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diff --git a/old/51644-0.txt b/old/51644-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index de52a5b..0000000 --- a/old/51644-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6438 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Vicissitudes of Evangeline, by Elinor Glyn - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Vicissitudes of Evangeline - -Author: Elinor Glyn - -Release Date: April 3, 2016 [EBook #51644] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VICISSITUDES OF EVANGELINE *** - - - - -Produced by Giovanni Fini, Clarity and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) - - - - - - - - TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: - -—Obvious print and punctuation errors were corrected. - -—Whereas adequate characters are not available, superscript text has - been rendered as a^b and a^{bc}. - - - - - THE - VICISSITUDES - OF - EVANGELINE - - - - - _All rights reserved._ - - _Copyright in America._ - -[Illustration: _Evangeline._] - - - - - THE - VICISSITUDES - OF - EVANGELINE - - BY ELINOR GLYN - - AUTHOR OF - “THE VISITS OF ELIZABETH” - AND “THE REFLECTIONS OF - AMBROSINE” - -[Illustration] - - LONDON - DUCKWORTH & CO. - 3, HENRIETTA STREET - COVENT GARDEN, W.C. - MDCCCCV - - - - - CHISWICK PRESS: CHARLES WHITTINGHAM AND CO. - TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE, LONDON. - - - - - TO - THE WOMEN WITH RED HAIR - - - - - THE BEGINNING OF - EVANGELINE’S JOURNAL - - - - - THE BEGINNING OF - EVANGELINE’S JOURNAL - - - BRANCHES PARK, - - _November 3rd, 1904_. - -I WONDER so much if it is amusing to be an adventuress, because that -is evidently what I shall become now. I read in a book all about it; -it is being nice-looking and having nothing to live on, and getting a -pleasant time out of life--and I intend to do that! I have certainly -nothing to live on, for one cannot count £300 a year--and I am -extremely pretty, and I know it quite well, and how to do my hair, and -put on my hats, and those things, so, of course, I am an adventuress! -I was not intended for this _rôle_--in fact Mrs. Carruthers adopted -me on purpose to leave me her fortune, as at that time she had -quarrelled with her heir, who was bound to get the place. Then she was -so inconsequent as not to make a proper will--thus it is that this -creature gets everything, and I nothing! - -I am twenty, and up to the week before last, when Mrs. Carruthers got -ill, and died in one day, I had had a fairly decent time at odd moments -when she was in a good temper. - -There is no use pretending even when people are dead, if one is writing -down one’s real thoughts. I detested Mrs. Carruthers most of the time. -A person whom it was impossible to please. She had no idea of justice, -or of anything but her own comfort, and what amount of pleasure other -people could contribute to her day! - -How she came to do anything for me at all was because she had been -in love with papa, and when he married poor mamma--a person of no -family--and then died, she offered to take me, and bring me up, just -to spite mamma, she has often told me. As I was only four I had no say -in the matter, and if mamma liked to give me up that was her affair. -Mamma’s father was a lord, and her mother I don’t know who, and they -had not worried to get married, so that is how it is poor mamma came to -have no relations. After papa was dead she married an Indian officer, -and went off to India, and died too, and I never saw her any more--so -there it is, there is not a soul in the world who matters to me, or I -to them, so I can’t help being an adventuress, and thinking only of -myself, can I? - -Mrs. Carruthers periodically quarrelled with all the neighbours, so -beyond frigid calls now and then in a friendly interval, we never saw -them much. Several old, worldly ladies used to come to stay, but I -liked none of them, and I have no young friends. When it is getting -dark, and I am up here alone, I often wonder what it would be like if -I had--but I believe I am the kind of cat that would not have got on -with them too nicely--so perhaps it is just as well; only to have had a -pretty--aunt, say, to love one, that might have been nice. - -Mrs. Carruthers had no feelings like this. “Stuff and -nonsense”--“sentimental rubbish” she would have called them. To get -a suitable husband is what she brought me up for, she said, and for -the last years had arranged that I should marry her detested heir, -Christopher Carruthers, as I should have the money, and he the place. - -He is a diplomat, and lives in Paris, and Russia, and amusing places -like that, so he does not often come to England. I have never seen him. -He is quite old--over thirty--and has hair turning gray. - -Now he is master here, and I must leave--unless he proposes to marry me -at our meeting this afternoon, which he probably won’t do. - -However, there can be no harm in my making myself look as attractive -as possible under the circumstances. As I am to be an adventuress, I -must do the best I can for myself. Nice feelings are for people who -have money to live as they please. If I had ten thousand a year, or -even five, I would snap my fingers at all men, and say, “No, I make my -life as I choose, and shall cultivate knowledge and books, and indulge -in beautiful ideas of honour and exalted sentiments, and perhaps one -day succumb to a noble passion.” (What grand words the thought even is -making me write!!) But as it is, if Mr. Carruthers asks me to marry -him, as he has been told to do by his aunt, I shall certainly say yes, -and so stay on here, and have a comfortable home. Until I have had this -interview it is hardly worth while packing anything. - -What a mercy black suits me! My skin is ridiculously white--I shall -stick a bunch of violets in my frock, that could not look heartless, I -suppose. But if he asks me if I am sad about Mrs. Carruthers’ death, I -shall not be able to tell a lie. - -I am sad, of course, because death is a terrible thing, and to die like -that, saying spiteful things to every one, must be horrid--but I can’t, -I can’t regret her! Not a day ever passed that she did not sting some -part of me--when I was little, it was not only with her tongue, she -used to pinch me, and box my ears until Doctor Garrison said it might -make me deaf, and then she stopped, because she said deaf people were -a bore, and she could not put up with them. - -I shall not go on looking back! There are numbers of things that even -now make me raging to remember. - -I have only been out for a year. Mrs. Carruthers got an attack of -bronchitis when I was eighteen, just as we were going up to town for -the season, and said she did not feel well enough for the fatigues, and -off we went to Switzerland. And in the autumn we travelled all over the -place, and in the winter she coughed and groaned, and the next season -would not go up until the last court, so I have only had a month of -London. The bronchitis got perfectly well, it was heart-failure that -killed her, brought on by an attack of temper because Thomas broke the -Carruthers vase. - -I shall not write of her death, or the finding of the will, or the -surprise that I was left nothing but a thousand pounds, and a diamond -ring. - -Now that I am an adventuress, instead of an heiress, of what good to -chronicle all that! Sufficient to say if Mr. Carruthers does not obey -his orders, and offer me his hand this afternoon, I shall have to pack -my trunks, and depart by Saturday--but where to is yet in the lap of -the gods! - -He is coming by the 3.20 train, and will be in the house before four, -an ugly, dull time; one can’t offer him tea, and it will be altogether -trying and exciting. - -He is coming ostensibly to take over his place, I suppose, but in -reality it is to look at me, and see if in any way he will be able to -persuade himself to carry out his aunt’s wishes. I wonder what it will -be like to be married to some one you don’t know, and don’t like? I am -not greatly acquainted yet with the ways of men. We have not had any -that you could call that here, much--only a lot of old wicked sort of -things, in the autumn, to shoot the pheasants, and play bridge with -Mrs. Carruthers. The marvel to me was how they ever killed anything, -such antiques they were! Some Politicians and ex-Ambassadors, and -creatures of that sort; and mostly as wicked as could be. They used -to come trotting down the passage to the schoolroom, and have tea with -Mademoiselle and me on the slightest provocation! and say such things! -I am sure lots of what they said meant something else, Mademoiselle -used to giggle so. She was rather a good-looking one I had the last -four years, but I hated her. There was never anyone young and human who -counted. - -I did look forward to coming out in London, but, being so late, every -one was preoccupied when we got there--and no one got in love with -me much. Indeed, we went out very little, a part of the time I had a -swollen nose from a tennis ball at Ranelagh--and people don’t look at -girls with swollen noses. - -I wonder where I shall go and live! Perhaps in Paris--unless, of -course, I marry Mr. Carruthers,--I don’t suppose it is dull being -married. In London all the married ones seemed to have a lovely time, -and had not to bother with their husbands much. - -Mrs. Carruthers always assured me love was a thing of absolutely no -consequence in marriage. You were bound to love some one, some time, -but the very fact of being chained to him would dispel the feeling. It -was a thing to be looked upon like measles, or any other disease, and -was better to get it over, and then turn to the solid affairs of life. -But how she expected me to get it over when she never arranged for me -to see anyone I don’t know. - -I asked her one day what I should do if I got to like some one after I -am married to Mr. Carruthers, and she laughed one of her horrid laughs, -and said I should probably do as the rest of the world. And what do -they do?--I wonder?--Well, I suppose I shall find out some day. - -Of course there is the possibility that Christopher (do I like the name -of Christopher, I wonder?)--well, that Christopher may not want to -follow her will. - -He has known about it for years, I suppose, just as I have, but I -believe men are queer creatures, and he may take a dislike to me. I am -not a type that would please every one. My hair is too red, brilliant -dark fiery red like a chestnut when it tumbles out of its shell, only -burnished like metal. If I had the usual white eyelashes I should be -downright ugly, but, thank goodness! by some freak of nature mine are -black and thick, and stick out when you look at me sideways, and I -often think when I catch sight of myself in the glass that I am really -very pretty--all put together--but, as I said before, not a type to -please every one. - -A combination I am that Mrs. Carruthers assured me would cause -anxieties. “With that mixture, Evangeline,” she often said, “you would -do well to settle yourself in life as soon as possible. Good girls -don’t have your colouring.” So you see, as I am branded as bad from -the beginning, it does not much matter what I do. My eyes are as green -as pale emeralds, and long, and not going down at the corners with the -Madonna expression of Cicely Parker, the Vicar’s daughter. I do not -know yet what is being good, or being bad, perhaps I shall find out -when I am an adventuress, or married to Mr. Carruthers. - -All I know is that I want to _live_, and feel the blood rushing through -my veins. I want to do as I please, and not have to be polite when I -am burning with rage. I want to be late in the morning if I happen -to fancy sleeping, and I want to sit up at night if I don’t want to -go to bed! So, as you can do what you like when you are married, I -really hope Mr. Carruthers will take a fancy to me, and then all will -be well! I shall stay upstairs until I hear the carriage-wheels, and -leave Mr. Barton--the lawyer--to receive him. Then I shall saunter -down nonchalantly while they are in the hall. It will be an effective -entrance. My trailing black garments, and the great broad stairs--this -is a splendid house--and if he has an eye in his head he must see my -foot on each step! Even Mrs. Carruthers said I have the best foot she -had ever seen. I am getting quite excited. I shall ring for Véronique -and begin to dress!... I shall write more presently. - - - _Thursday evening._ - -IT is evening, and the fire is burning brightly in my sitting-room -where I am writing. _My_ sitting-room!--did I say? Mr. Carruthers’ -sitting-room I meant--for it is mine no longer, and on Saturday, the -day after to-morrow, I shall have to bid good-bye to it forever. - -For yes--I may as well say it at once--the affair did not walk. Mr. -Carruthers quietly, but firmly, refused to obey his aunt’s will, and -thus I am left an old maid! - -I must go back to this afternoon to make it clear, and I must say my -ears tingle as I think of it. - -I rang for Véronique, and put on my new black afternoon frock, which -had just been unpacked. I tucked in the violets in a careless way. -Saw that my hair was curling as vigorously as usual, and not too -rebelliously for a demure appearance, and so, at exactly the right -moment, began to descend the stairs. - -There was Mr. Carruthers in the hall. A horribly nice-looking, tall -man, with a clean-shaven face, and features cut out of stone. A square -chin, with a nasty twinkle in the corner of his eye. He has a very -distinguished look, and that air of never having had to worry for his -things to fit, they appear as if they had grown on him. He has a cold, -reserved manner, and something commanding and arrogant in it, which -makes one want to contradict him at once, but his voice is charming. -One of that cultivated, refined kind, that sounds as if he spoke a -number of languages, and so does not slur his words. I believe this -is diplomatic, for some of the old ambassador people had this sort of -voice. - -He was standing with his back to the fire, and the light of the big -window with the sun getting low was full on his face, so I had a good -look at him. I said in the beginning that there was no use pretending -when one is writing one’s own thoughts for one’s own self to read when -one is old, and keeping them in a locked-up journal, so I shall always -tell the truth here--quite different things to what I should say if -I were talking to someone, and describing to them this scene. Then I -should say I found him utterly unattractive, and in fact, I hardly -noticed him! As it was, I noticed him very much, and I have a tiresome -inward conviction that he could be very attractive indeed, if he liked. - -He looked up, and I came forward with my best demure air, as Mr. Barton -nervously introduced us, and we shook hands. I left him to speak first. - -“Abominably cold day,” he said, carelessly. That was English and -promising! - -“Yes, indeed,” I said. “You have just arrived?” - -And so we continued in this banal way, with Mr. Barton twirling his -thumbs, and hoping, one could see, that we should soon come to the -business of the day; interposing a remark here and there, which added -to the _gêne_ of the situation. - -At last Mr. Carruthers said to Mr. Barton that he would go round and -see the house; and I said tea would be ready when they got back. And so -they started. - -My cheeks would burn, and my hands were so cold, it was awkward and -annoying, not half the simple affair I had thought it would be upstairs. - -When it was quite dark, and the lamps were brought, they came back to -the hall, and Mr. Barton, saying he did not want any tea, left us to -find papers in the library. - -I gave Mr. Carruthers some tea, and asked the usual things about sugar -and cream. His eye had almost a look of contempt as he glanced at me, -and I felt an angry throb in my throat. When he had finished he got up, -and stood before the fire again. Then, deliberately, as a man who has -determined to do his duty at any cost, he began to speak: - -“You know the wish--or rather, I should say, the command, my aunt left -me,” he said--“in fact she states that she had always brought you up -to the idea. It is rather a tiresome thing to discuss with a stranger, -but perhaps we had better get it over as soon as possible, as that -is what I came down here to-day for. The command was, I should marry -you.”--He paused a moment. I remained perfectly still, with my hands -idly clasped in my lap, and made myself keep my eyes on his face. - -He continued, finding I did not answer--just a faint tone of resentment -creeping into his voice--because I would not help him out, I suppose--I -should think not! I loved annoying him! - -“It is a preposterous idea in these days for any one to dispose of -people’s destinies in this way, and I am sure you will agree with me -that such a marriage would be impossible.” - -“Of course I agree,” I replied, lying with a tone of careless -sincerity. I had to control all my real feelings of either anger or -pleasure for so long in Mrs. Carruthers’ presence that I am now an -adept. - -“I am so glad you put it so plainly,” I went on sweetly. “I was -wondering how I should write it to you, but now you are here it -is quite easy for us to finish the matter at once. Whatever Mrs. -Carruthers may have intended me to do, I had no intention of obeying -her, but it would have been useless for me to say so to her, and so I -waited until the time for speech should come. Won’t you have some more -tea?” - -He looked at me very straightly, almost angrily, for an instant; -presently, with a sigh of relief, he said, half laughing-- - -“Then we are agreed, we need say no more about it!” - -“No more,” I answered, and I smiled too, although a rage of anger -was clutching my throat. I do not know who I was angry with--Mrs. -Carruthers for procuring this situation, Christopher for being -insensible to my charms, or myself for ever having contemplated for a -second the possibility of his doing otherwise. Why, when one thinks of -it calmly, should he want to marry me? A penniless adventuress with -green eyes, and red hair, that he had never seen before in his life. I -hoped he thought I was a person of naturally high colour, because my -cheeks from the moment I began to dress had been burning and burning. -It might have given him the idea the scene was causing me some emotion, -and that he should never know! - -He took some more tea, but he did not drink it, and by this I guessed -that he also was not as calm as he looked! - -“There is something else,” he said. And now there was almost an -awkwardness in his voice. “Something else which I want to say, though -perhaps Mr. Barton could say it for me--but which I would rather say -straight to you--and that is you must let me settle such a sum of -money on you as you had every right to expect from my aunt, after the -promises I understand she always made to you----” - -This time I did not wait for him to finish! I bounded up from my -seat--some uncontrollable sensation of wounded pride throbbing and -thrilling through me. - -“Money!--Money from you!” I exclaimed. “Not if I were starving!”--then -I sat down again, ashamed of this vehemence. How would he interpret -it! But it galled me so, and yet I had been ready an hour ago to have -accepted him as my husband! Why, then, this revolt at the idea of -receiving a fair substitute in gold? Really, one is a goose, and I had -time to realize, even in this tumult of emotion, that there can be -nothing so inconsistent as the feelings of a girl. - -“You must not be foolish!” he said, coldly. “I intend to settle the -money whether you will or no, so do not make any further trouble about -it!” - -There was something in his voice so commanding and arrogant, just as -I noticed at first, that every obstinate quality in my nature rose to -answer him. - -“I do not know anything about the law in the matter; you may settle -what you choose, but I shall never touch any of it,” I said, as calmly -as I could; “so it seems ridiculous to waste the money, does it not? -You may not, perhaps, be aware I have enough of my own, and do not in -any way require yours.” - -He became colder and more exasperated. - -“As you please, then,” he said, snappishly, and Mr. Barton, fortunately -entering at that moment, the conversation was cut short, and I left -them. - -They are not going back to London until to-morrow morning, and dinner -has yet to be got through. Oh! I do feel in a temper, and I can never -tell of the emotions that were throbbing through me as I came up the -great stairs just now. A sudden awakening to the humiliation of the -situation! How had I ever been able to contemplate marrying a man -I did not know, just to secure myself a comfortable home! It seems -preposterous now. I suppose it was because I have always been brought -up to the idea, and until I came face to face with the man, it did -not strike me as odd. Fortunately he can never guess that I had been -willing to accept him--my dissimulation has stood me in good stead. Now -I am animated by only one idea! To appear as agreeable and charming to -Mr. Carruthers as possible. The aim and object of my life shall be to -make him regret his decision. When I hear him imploring me to marry -him, I shall regain a little of my self-respect! And as for marriage, -I shall have nothing to do with the horrid affair! Oh dear no! I shall -go away free, and be a happy adventuress--I have read the “Trois -Mousquetaires,” and “Vingt Ans Après”--Mademoiselle had them--and I -remember milady had only three days to get round her jailer, starting -with his hating her, whereas Mr. Carruthers does not hate me, so that -counts against my only having one evening. I shall do my best--! - - - _Thursday night._ - -I WAS down in the library, innocently reading a book when Mr. -Carruthers came in. He looked even better in evening dress, but he -appeared ill-tempered, and no doubt found the situation unpleasant. - -“Is not this a beautiful house?” I said, in a velvet voice, to break -the awkward silence, and show him I did not share his unease. “You had -not seen it before, for ages, had you?” - -“Not since I was a boy,” he answered, trying to be polite. “My aunt -quarrelled with my father--she was the direct heiress of all this, -and married her cousin, my father’s younger brother--but you know the -family history, of course----” - -“Yes.” - -“They hated one another, she and my father.” - -“Mrs. Carruthers hated all her relations,” I said demurely. - -“Myself among them?” - -“Yes,” I said slowly, and bent forward, so that the lamplight should -fall upon my hair. “She said you were too much like herself in -character for you ever to be friends.” - -“Is that a compliment?” he asked, and there was a twinkle in his eye. - -“We must speak no ill of the dead,” I said, evasively. - -He looked slightly annoyed, as much as these diplomats ever let -themselves look anything. - -“You are right,” he said. “Let her rest in peace.” - -There was silence for a moment. - -“What are you going to do with your life now?” he asked, presently. It -was a bald question. - -“I shall become an adventuress,” I answered deliberately. - -“A _what_?” he exclaimed, his black eyebrows contracting. - -“An adventuress. Is not that what it is called? A person who sees life, -and has to do the best she can for herself.” - -He laughed. “You strange little lady?” he said, his irritation with me -melting. And when he laughs you can see how even his teeth are, but the -two side ones are sharp and pointed like a wolf’s. - -“Perhaps after all you had better have married me!” - -“No, that would clip my wings,” I said frankly, looking at him straight -in the face. - -“Mr. Barton tells me you propose leaving here on Saturday. I beg -you will not do so--please consider it your home for so long as you -wish--until you can make some arrangements for yourself. You look so -very young to be going about the world alone!” - -He bent down and gazed at me closer--there was an odd tone in his voice. - -“I am twenty, and I have been often snubbed,” I said, calmly; “that -prepares one for a good deal. I shall enjoy doing what I please.” - -“And what are you going to please?” - -“I shall go to Claridge’s until I can look about me.” - -He moved uneasily. - -“But have you no relations? No one who will take care of you?” - -“I believe none. My mother was nobody particular you know--a Miss -Tonkins by name.” - -“But your father?” He sat down now on the sofa beside me; there was a -puzzled, amused look in his face--perhaps I was amazing him. - -“Papa? Oh! Papa was the last of his family--they were decent people, -but there are no more of them.” - -He pushed one of the cushions aside. - -“It is an impossible position for a girl--completely alone. I cannot -allow it. I feel responsible for you. After all, it would do very well -if you married me--I am not particularly domestic by nature, and should -be very little at home--so you could live here, and have a certain -position, and I would come back now and then to see you were getting -on all right.” - -One could not say if he were mocking, or no. - -“It is too good of you,” I said, without any irony, “but I like -freedom, and when you were at home it might be such a bore----” - -He leant back, and laughed merrily. - -“You are candid, at any rate!” he said. - -Mr. Barton came into the room at that moment, full of apologies for -being late. Immediately after, with the usual ceremony, the butler -entered and pompously announced, “Dinner is served, sir.” How quickly -they recognize the new master! - -Mr. Carruthers gave me his arm, and we walked slowly down the picture -gallery to the banqueting hall, and there sat down at the small round -table in the middle, that always looks like an island in a lake. - -I talked nicely at dinner. I was dignified and grave, and quite frank. -Mr. Carruthers was not bored. The _chef_ had outdone himself, hoping to -be kept on. I never felt so excited in my life. - -I was apparently asleep under a big lamp, after dinner in the -library--a book of silly poetry in my lap--when the door opened and -he--Mr. Carruthers--came in alone, and walked up the room. I did not -open my eyes. He looked for just a minute--how accurate I am! Then he -said, “You are very pretty when asleep!” - -His voice was not caressing, or complimentary, merely as if the fact -had forced this utterance. - -I allowed myself to wake without a start. - -“Was the ’47 port as good as you hoped?” I asked, sympathetically. - -He sat down. I had arranged my chair so that there was none other -in its immediate neighbourhood. Thus he was some way off, and could -realize my whole silhouette. - -“The ’47 port--oh yes!--but I am not going to talk of port. I want you -to tell me a lot more about yourself, and your plans.” - -“I have no plans--except to see the world.” - -He picked up a book, and put it down again; he was not perfectly calm. - -“I don’t think I shall let you. I am more than ever convinced you ought -to have some one to take care of you; you are not of the type that -makes it altogether safe to roam about alone.” - -“Oh! as for my type,” I said, languidly, “I know all about that. Mrs. -Carruthers said no one with this combination of colour could be good, -so I am not going to try. It will be quite simple.” - -He rose quickly from his chair, and stood in front of the great log -fire, such a comical expression on his face. - -“You are the quaintest child I have ever met,” he said. - -“I am not a child--and I mean to know everything I can.” - -He went over towards the sofa again, and arranged the cushions--great, -splendid, fat pillows of old Italian brocade, stiff with gold and -silver. - -“Come!” he pleaded, “sit here beside me, and let us talk; you are miles -away there, and I want to--make you see reason.” - -I rose at once, and came slowly to where he pointed. I settled myself -deliberately, there was one cushion of purple and silver right under -the light, and there I rested my head. - -“Now talk!” I said, and half closed my eyes. - -Oh! I was enjoying myself! The first time I have ever been alone with -a real man! They--the old ambassadors, and politicians, and generals, -used always to tell me I should grow into an attractive woman--now I -meant to try what I could do. - -Mr. Carruthers remained silent--but he sat down beside me, and looked, -and looked right into my eyes. - -“Now talk then,” I said again. - -“Do you know, you are a very disturbing person,” he said at last, by -way of a beginning. - -“What is that?” I asked. - -“It is a woman who confuses one’s thought when one looks at her. I do -not now seem to have anything to say--or too much.” - -“You called me a child.” - -“I should have called you an enigma.” - -I assured him I was not the least complex, and that I only wanted -everything simple, and to be left in peace, without having to get -married, or worry to obey people. - -We had a nice talk. - -“You won’t leave here on Saturday,” he said, presently, apropos of -nothing. “I do not think I shall go myself, to-morrow. I want you to -show me all over the gardens, and your favourite haunts.” - -“To-morrow I shall be busy packing,” I said, gravely, “and I do not -think I want to show you the gardens--there are some corners I rather -loved--I believe it will hurt a little to say good-bye.” - -Just then Mr. Barton came into the room, fussy and ill at ease. Mr. -Carruthers’ face hardened again, and I rose to say good-night. - -As he opened the door for me: “Promise you will come down to give me my -coffee in the morning,” he said. - -“_Qui vivra verra_,” I answered, and sauntered out into the hall. He -followed me, and watched as I went up the staircase. - -“Good-night!” I called softly, as I got to the top, and laughed a -little--I don’t know why. - -He bounded up the stairs, three steps at a time, and before I could -turn the handle of my door, he stood beside me. - -“I do not know what there is about you,” he said, “but you drive me -mad--I shall insist upon carrying out my aunt’s wish after all! I shall -marry you, and never let you out of my sight--do you hear?” - -Oh! such a strange sense of exaltation crept over me--it is with me -still! Of course he probably will not mean all that to-morrow, but to -have made such a stiff block of stone rush upstairs, and say this much -now is perfectly delightful! - -I looked at him up from under my eyelashes. “No, you will not marry -me,” I said, calmly; “or do anything else I don’t like, and now really -good-night!” and I slipped into my room, and closed the door. I could -hear he did not stir for some seconds. Then he went off down the stairs -again, and I am alone with my thoughts. - -My thoughts! I wonder what they mean. What did I do that had this -effect upon him? I intended to do something, and I did it, but I am not -quite sure what it was. However, that is of no consequence. Sufficient -for me to know that my self-respect is restored, and I can now go out -and see the world with a clear conscience. - -_He_ has asked me to marry him! and _I_ have said I won’t! - - BRANCHES PARK, - - _Thursday night, Nov. 3rd, 1904_. - - DEAR BOB,--A quaint thing has happened to me! Came down here to take - over the place, and to say decidedly I would not marry Miss Travers, - and I find her with red hair and a skin like milk, and a pair of green - eyes that look at you from a forest of black eyelashes with a thousand - unsaid challenges. I should not wonder if I commit some folly. One - has read of women like this in the _cinque-cento_ time in Italy, but - up to now I had never met one. She is not in the room ten minutes - before one feels a sense of unrest, and desire for one hardly knows - what--principally to touch her, I fancy. Good Lord! what a skin! pure - milk and rare roses--and the reddest Cupid’s bow of a mouth! You had - better come down at once, (these things are probably in your line) to - save me from some sheer idiocy. The situation is exceptional; she and - I practically alone in the house, for old Barton does not count. She - has nowhere to go, and as far as I can make out has not a friend in - the world. I suppose I ought to leave--I will try to on Monday, but - come down to-morrow by the 4 train. - - Yours, - - CHRISTOPHER. - - P.S. ’47 port A1, and two or three brands of the old aunt’s champagne - exceptional, Barton says; we can sample them. Shall send this up by - express, you will get it in time for the 4 train. - -(The above letter from Mr. Carruthers came into Evangeline’s possession -later, and which she put into her journal at this place.--Editor’s -note.) - - - BRANCHES, - - _Friday night, November 4th._ - -THIS morning Mr. Carruthers had his coffee alone. Mr. Barton and I -breakfasted quite early, before 9 o’clock, and just as I was calling -the dogs in the hall for a run, with my outdoor things already on, Mr. -Carruthers came down the great stairs with a frown on his face. - -“Up so early!” he said. “Are you not going to pour out my tea for me, -then?” - -“I thought you said coffee! No, I am going out,” and I went on down the -corridor, the wolf-hounds following me. - -“You are not a kind hostess!” he called after me. - -“I am not a hostess at all,” I answered back, “only a guest.” - -He followed me. “Then you are a very casual guest, not consulting the -pleasure of your host.” - -I said nothing; I only looked at him over my shoulder, as I went down -the marble steps--looked at him, and laughed as on the night before. - -He turned back into the house without a word, and I did not see him -again until just before luncheon. - -There is something unpleasant about saying good-bye to a place, and -I found I had all sorts of sensations rising in my throat at various -points in my walk. However, all that is ridiculous, and must be -forgotten. As I was coming round the corner of the terrace, a great -gust of wind nearly blew me into Mr. Carruthers’ arms. Odious weather -we are having this autumn. - -“Where have you been all the morning?” he said, when we had recovered -ourselves a little. “I have searched for you all over the place.” - -“You do not know it all yet, or you would have found me,” I said, -pretending to walk on. - -“No, you shall not go now,” he exclaimed, pacing beside me. “Why won’t -you be amiable and make me feel at home.” - -“I do apologize if I have been unamiable,” I said, with great -frankness. “Mrs. Carruthers always brought me up to have such good -manners.” - -After that he talked to me for half an hour about the place. - -He seemed to have forgotten his vehemence of the night before. He asked -all sorts of questions, and showed a sentiment and a delicacy I should -not have expected from his hard face. I was quite sorry when the gong -sounded for luncheon and we went in. - -I have no settled plan in my head--I seem to be drifting,--tasting -for the first time some power over another human being. It gave me -delicious thrills to see his eagerness when contrasted with the dry -refusal of my hand only the day before. - -At lunch I addressed myself to Mr. Barton; he was too flattered at my -attention, and continued to chatter garrulously. - -The rain came on, and poured, and beat against the window-panes with -a sudden angry thud. No chance of further walks abroad. I escaped -upstairs while the butler was speaking to Mr. Carruthers, and began -helping Véronique to pack. Chaos and desolation it all seemed in my -cosy rooms. - -While I was on my knees in front of a great wooden box, hopelessly -trying to stow away books, a crisp tap came to the door, and without -more ado my host--yes, he is that now--entered the room. - -“Good Lord! what is all this,” he exclaimed, “what are you doing?” - -“Packing,” I said, not getting up. - -He made an impatient gesture. - -“Nonsense!” he said, “there is no need to pack. I tell you I will not -let you go. I am going to marry you and keep you here always.” - -I sat down on the floor and began to laugh. - -“You think so, do you?” - -“Yes.” - -“You can’t force me to marry you, you know--can you? I want to see the -world, I don’t want any tiresome man bothering after me. If I ever do -marry it will be because--oh, because----” and I stopped, and began -fiddling with the cover of a book. - -“What?” - -“Mrs. Carruthers said it was so foolish--but I believe I should prefer -to marry some one I liked. Oh! I know you think that silly,” and I -stopped him as he was about to speak, “but of course, as it does not -last any way, it might be good for a little to begin like that, don’t -you think so?” - -He looked round the room, and on through the wide open double doors -into my dainty bedroom where Véronique was still packing. - -“You are very cosy here, it is absurd of you to leave it,” he said. - -I got up off the floor and went to the window and back. I don’t know -why I felt moved, a sudden sense of the cosiness came over me. The -world looked wet and bleak outside. - -“Why do you say you want me to marry you, Mr. Carruthers?” I said. “You -are joking, of course.” - -“I am not joking. I am perfectly serious. I am ready to carry out my -aunt’s wishes. It can be no new idea to you, and you must have worldly -sense enough to realize it would be the best possible solution of your -future. I can show you the world, you know.” - -He appeared to be extraordinarily good-looking as he stood there, his -face to the dying light. Supposing I took him at his word, after all. - -“But what has suddenly changed your ideas since yesterday? You told me -you had come down to make it clear to me that you could not possibly -obey her orders.” - -“That was yesterday,” he said. “I had not really seen you; to-day I -think differently.” - -“It is just because you are sorry for me; I suppose I seem so lonely,” -I whispered demurely. - -“It is perfectly impossible--what you propose to do--to go and live by -yourself at a London hotel--the idea drives me mad!” - -“It will be delightful! no one to order me about from morning to night!” - -“Listen,” he said, and he flung himself into an armchair. “You can -marry me, and I will take you to Paris, or where you want, and I won’t -order you about,--only I shall keep the other beasts of men from -looking at you.” - -But I told him at once I thought that would be very dull. “I have never -had the chance of any one looking at me,” I said, “and I want to feel -what it is like. Mrs. Carruthers always assured me I was very pretty, -you know, only she said that I was certain to come to a bad end, -because of my type, unless I got married at once, and then if my head -was screwed on the right way it would not matter; but I don’t agree -with her.” - -He walked up and down the room impatiently. - -“That is just it,” he said.” I would rather be the first--I would -rather you began by me. I am strong enough to ward off the rest.” - -“What does ’beginning by you’ mean?” I asked with great candour. “Old -Lord Bentworth said I should begin by him, when he was here to shoot -pheasants last autumn; he said it could not matter, he was so old; but -I didn’t----” - -Mr. Carruthers bounded up from his chair. - -“You didn’t what! Good Lord, what did he want you to do!” he asked -aghast. - -“Well,” I said, and I looked down for a moment, I felt stupidly shy, -“he wanted me to kiss him.” - -Mr. Carruthers appeared almost relieved, it was strange! - -“The old wretch! Nice company my aunt seems to have kept!” he -exclaimed. “Could she not take better care of you than that--to let you -be insulted by her guests.” - -“I don’t think Lord Bentworth meant to insult me. He only said he had -never seen such a red, curly mouth as mine, and as I was bound to go to -the devil some day with that, and such hair, I might begin by kissing -him--he explained it all.” - -“And were you not very angry?” his voice wrathful. - -“No--not very, I could not be, I was shaking so with laughter. If you -could have seen the silly old thing, like a wizened monkey, with dyed -hair and an eyeglass, it was too comic!--I only told you because you -said the sentence ‘begin by you,’ and I wanted to know if it was the -same thing.” - -Mr. Carruthers’ eyes had such a strange expression, puzzle and -amusement, and something else. He came over close to me. - -“Because,” I went on, “if so, I believe if that is always the -beginning--I don’t want any beginnings--I haven’t the slightest desire -to kiss any one--I should simply hate it.” - -Mr. Carruthers laughed. “Oh! you are only a baby child after all!” he -said. - -This annoyed me. I got up with great dignity. “Tea will be ready in the -white drawing-room,” I said stiffly, and walked towards my bedroom door. - -He came after me. - -“Send your maid away, and let us have it up here,” he said. “I like -this room.” - -But I was not to be appeased thus easily, and deliberately called -Véronique and gave her fresh directions. - -“Poor old Mr. Barton will be feeling so lonely,” I said, as I went out -into the passage. “I am going to see that he has a nice tea,” and I -looked back at Mr. Carruthers over my shoulder. Of course he followed -me and we went together down the stairs. - -In the hall a footman with a telegram met us. Mr. Carruthers tore it -open impatiently. Then he looked quite annoyed. - -“I hope you won’t mind,” he said, “but a friend of mine, Lord Robert -Vavasour is arriving this afternoon--he is a--er--great judge of -pictures. I forgot I asked him to come down and look at them, it clean -went out of my head.” - -I told him he was host; and why should I object to what guests he had. - -“Besides, I am going myself to-morrow,” I said, “if Véronique can get -the packing done.” - -“Nonsense--how can I make you understand that I do not mean to let you -go at all.” - -I did not answer--only looked at him defiantly. - -Mr. Barton was waiting patiently for us in the white drawing-room, and -we had not been munching muffins for five minutes when the sound of -wheels crunching the gravel of the great sweep--the windows of this -room look out that way--interrupted our manufactured conversation. - -“This must be Bob arriving,” Mr. Carruthers said, and went reluctantly -into the hall to meet his guest. - -They came back together presently, and he introduced Lord Robert to me. - -I felt at once he was rather a pet! Such a shape! Just like the -Apollo of Belvidere! I do love that look, with a tiny waist and nice -shoulders, and looking as if he were as lithe as a snake, and yet could -break pokers in half like Mr. Rochester in “Jane Eyre”! - -He has great, big, sleepy eyes of blue, and rather a plaintive -expression, and a little fairish moustache turned up at the corners, -and the nicest mouth one ever saw, and when you see him moving, -and the back of his head, it makes you think all the time of a -beautifully groomed thoroughbred horse. I don’t know why. At once--in a -minute--when we looked at one another, I felt I should like “Bob”! He -has none of Mr. Carruthers’ cynical, hard, expression, and I am sure he -can’t be nearly as old, not more than twenty-seven, or so. - -He seemed perfectly at home, sat down and had tea, and talked in the -most casual, friendly way. Mr. Carruthers appeared to freeze up, Mr. -Barton got more banal--and the whole thing entertained me immensely. - -I often used to long for adventures in the old days with Mrs. -Carruthers, and here I am really having them! - -Such a situation! I am sure people would think it most improper! I -alone in the house with these three men! I felt I really would have to -go--but where! - -Meanwhile I have every intention of amusing myself! - -Lord Robert and I seemed to have a hundred things to say to one -another. I do like his voice--and he is so perfectly _sans gêne_, it -makes no difficulties. By the end of tea we were as old friends. Mr. -Carruthers got more and more polite, and stiff, and finally jumped up -and hurried his guest off to the smoking-room. - -I put on such a duck of a frock for dinner, one of the sweetest -chastened simplicity, in black, showing peeps of skin through the thin -part at the top. Nothing could be more demure or becoming, and my -hair would not behave, and stuck out in rebellious waves and curls -everywhere. - -I thought it would be advisable not to be in too good time, so -sauntered down after I knew dinner was announced. - -They were both standing on the hearth rug. I always forget to count Mr. -Barton, he was in some chair, I suppose, but I did not notice him. - -Mr. Carruthers is the taller--about one inch; he must be a good deal -over six feet, because the other one is very tall too, but now that -one saw them together Mr. Carruthers’ figure appeared stiff and set -beside Lord Robert’s, and he hasn’t got nearly such a little waist. I -wonder if any other nation can have that exquisitely _soigné_ look of -Englishmen in evening dress, I don’t believe so. They really are lovely -creatures, both of them, and I don’t yet know which I like best. - -We had such an engaging time at dinner! I was as provoking as I could -be in the time--sympathetically absorbingly interested in Mr. Barton’s -long stories, and only looking at the other two now and then from under -my eyelashes--while I talked in the best demure fashion that I am -sure even Lady Katherine Montgomerie--a neighbour of ours--would have -approved of. - -They should not be able to say I could not chaperone myself in any -situation. - -“Dam-- good port this, Christopher,” Lord Robert said, when the ’47 was -handed round. “Is this what you asked me down to sample?” - -“I thought it was to give your opinion about the pictures,” I -exclaimed, surprised. “Mr. Carruthers said you were a great judge.” - -They looked at one another. - -“Oh--ah--yes,” said Lord Robert, lying transparently. “Pictures are -awfully interesting. Will you show me them after dinner?” - -“The light is too dim for a connoisseur to investigate them properly,” -I said. - -“I shall have it all lit by electricity as soon as possible; I wrote -about it to-day,” Mr. Carruthers announced, sententiously. “But I will -show you the pictures myself, to-morrow, Bob.” - -This at once decided me to take Lord Robert round to-night, and I told -him so in a velvet voice while Mr. Barton was engaging Christopher’s -attention. - -They stayed such a long time in the dining-room after I left that I -was on my way to bed when they came out into the hall, and could with -difficulty be persuaded to remain for a few moments. - -“I am too awfully sorry!” Lord Robert said. “I could not get away, I do -not know what possessed Christopher, he would sample ports, and talked -the hind leg off a donkey, till at last I said to him straight out I -wanted to come to you. So here I am--now you won’t go to bed, will -you--please, please.” - -He has such pleading blue eyes--imploring pathetically like a baby in -distress--it is quite impossible to resist him! and we started down the -gallery. - -Of course he did not know the difference between a Canaletto and a -Turner, and hardly made a pretence of being interested, in fact when we -got to the end where the early Italians hang, and I was explaining the -wonderful texture of a Madonna, he said: - -“They all look sea-sick, and out of shape! don’t you think we might sit -in that comfy window seat and talk of something else!” Then he told me -he loved pictures, but not this sort. - -“I like people to look human you know, even on canvas,” he said. “All -these ladies appear as if they were getting enteric like people used in -Africa, and I don’t like their halos, and things, and all the men are -old and bald. But you must not think me a Goth--you will teach me their -points, won’t you, and then I shall love them.” - -I said I did not care a great deal for them myself, except the colour. - -“Oh! I am so glad,” he said. “I should like to find we admired the same -things; but no picture could interest me as much as your hair. It is -the loveliest thing I have ever seen, and you do it so beautifully.” - -That did please me! He has the most engaging ways, Lord Robert, and he -is very well informed, not stupid a bit, or thick, only absolutely -simple and direct. We talked softly together, quite happy for a while. - -Then Mr. Carruthers got rid of Mr. Barton, and came towards us. I -settled myself more comfortably on the velvet cushions. Purple velvet -cushions and curtains in this gallery, good old relics of early -Victorian taste. Lots of the house is awful, but these curtains always -please me. - -Mr. Carruthers’ face was as stern as a stone bust of Augustus Caesar. I -am sure the monks in the Inquisition looked like that. I do wonder what -he meant to say, but Lord Robert did not give him time. - -“Do go away, Christopher,” he said; “Miss Travers is going to teach me -things about Italian Madonnas, and I can’t keep my attention if there -is a third person about.” - -I suppose if Mr. Carruthers had not been a diplomat he would have -sworn, but I believe that kind of education makes you able to put your -face how you like, so he smiled sweetly, and took a chair near. - -“I shall not leave you, Bob,” he said. “I do not consider you are a -good companion for Miss Evangeline. I am responsible for her, and I am -going to take care of her.” - -“Then you should not have asked him here if he is not a respectable -person,” I said, innocently; “but Italian Madonnas ought to chasten and -elevate his thoughts. Anyway your responsibility towards me is self -constituted. I am the only person whom I mean to obey!” and I settled -myself deliberately in the velvet pillows. - -“Not a good companion!” exclaimed Lord Robert, “What dam-- cheek, -Christopher. I have not my equal in the whole Household Cavalry, as you -know.” - -They both laughed, and we continued to talk in a sparring way, Mr. -Carruthers sharp, subtle, and fine as a sword blade--Lord Robert -downright, simple, with an air of a puzzled baby. - -When I thought they were both wanting me very much to stay, I got up, -and said good-night. - -They both came down the gallery with me, and insisted upon each -lighting a candle from the row of burnished silver candlesticks in the -hall, which they presented to me with great mock homage. It annoyed -me, I don’t know why, and I suddenly froze up, and declined them both, -while I said good-night again stiffly, and walked in my most stately -manner up the stairs. - -I could see Lord Robert’s eyebrows puckered into a more plaintive -expression than ever, while he let the beautiful silver candlestick -hang, dropping the grease on to the polished oak floor. - -Mr. Carruthers stood quite still, and put his light back on the table. -His face was cynical and rather amused. I can’t say what irritation I -felt, and immediately decided to leave on the morrow--but where to, -Fate, or the Devil, could only know! - -When I got to my room a lump came in my throat. Véronique had gone to -bed, tired out with her day’s packing. - -I suddenly felt utterly alone, all the exaltation gone. For the moment -I hated the two downstairs. I felt the situation equivocal, and -untenable, and it had amused me so much an hour ago. - -It is stupid and silly, and makes one’s nose red, but I felt like -crying a little before I got into bed. - - BRANCHES, - - _Saturday afternoon, Nov. 5th._ - -THIS morning I woke with a headache, to see the rain beating against -my windows, and mist and fog--a fitting day for the fifth of November. -I would not go down to breakfast. Véronique brought me mine to my -sitting-room fire, and, with Spartan determination, I packed steadily -all the morning. - -About twelve a note came up from Lord Robert; I paste it in: - - “DEAR MISS TRAVERS,--Why are you hiding? Was I a bore last night? Do - forgive me and come down. Has Christopher locked you in your room? I - will murder the brute if he has! - - “Yours very sincerely, - “ROBERT VAVASOUR.” - -“Can’t, I am packing,” I scribbled in pencil on the envelope, and gave -it back to Charles, who was waiting in the hall for the answer. Two -minutes after Lord Robert walked into the room, the door of which the -footman had left open. - -“I have come to help you,” he said in that voice of his that sounds so -sure of a welcome you can’t snub him; “but where are you going?” - -“I don’t know,” I said, a little forlornly, and then bent down and -vigorously collected photographs. - -“Oh, but you can’t go to London by yourself!” he said, aghast. “Look -here, I will come up with you, and take you to my aunt, Lady Merrenden. -She is such a dear, and I am sure when I have told her all about you -she will be delighted to take care of you for some days until you can -hunt round.” - -He looked such a boy, and his face was so kind, I was touched. - -“Oh no, Lord Robert! I cannot do that, but I thank you. I don’t want -to be under an obligation to any one,” I said firmly. “Mr. Carruthers -suggests a way out of the difficulty--that I should marry him, and stay -here. I don’t think he means it really, but he pretends he does.” - -He sat down on the edge of a table already laden with books, most of -which overbalanced and fell crash on the floor. - -“So Christopher wants you to marry him, the old fox!” he said, -apparently oblivious of the wreck of literature he had caused. “But you -won’t do that, will you? And yet I have no business to say that. He is -a dam-- good friend, Christopher.” - -“I am sure you ought not to swear so often, Lord Robert, it shocks me, -brought up as I have been,” I said, with the air of a little angel. - -“Do I swear?” he asked, surprised. “Oh no, I don’t think so--at least -there is no ‘n’ to the end of the ‘dams,’ so they are only an innocent -ornament to conversation. But I won’t do it, if you don’t wish me to.” - -After that he helped me with the books, and was so merry and kind I -soon felt cheered up, and by lunch time all were finished, and in -the boxes ready to be tied up, and taken away. Véronique, too, had -made great progress in the adjoining room, and was standing stiff and -_maussade_ by my dressing-table when I came in. She spoke respectfully -in French, and asked me if I had made my plans yet, for, as she -explained to me, her own position seemed precarious, and yet having -been with me for five years, she did not feel she could leave me at -a juncture like this. At the same time she hoped Mademoiselle would -make some suitable decision, as she feared (respectfully) it was “_une -si drole de position pour une demoiselle du monde_,” alone with “_ces -messieurs_.” - -I could not be angry, it was quite true what she said. - -“I shall go up this evening to Claridge’s, Véronique,” I assured her, -“by about the 5.15 train. We will wire to them after luncheon.” - -She seemed comforted, but she added, in the abstract, that a rich -marriage was what was obviously Mademoiselle’s fate, and she felt -sure great happiness and many jewels would await Mademoiselle, if -Mademoiselle could be persuaded to make up her mind. Nothing is sacred -to one’s maid! She knew all about Mr. Carruthers, of course. Poor old -Véronique--I have a big, warm corner for her in my heart--sometimes she -treats me with the frigid respect one would pay to a queen, and at -others I am almost her _enfant_, so tender and motherly she is to me. -And she puts up with all my tempers and moods, and pets me like a baby -just when I am the worst of all. - -Lord Robert had left me reluctantly when the luncheon gong sounded. - -“Haven’t we been happy?” he said, taking it for granted I felt the same -as he did. This is a very engaging quality of his, and makes one feel -sympathetic, especially when he looks into one’s eyes with his sleepy -blue ones. He has lashes as long and curly as a gipsy’s baby. - -Mr. Carruthers was alone in the dining-room when I got in; he was -looking out of the window, and turned round sharply as I came up the -room. I am sure he would like to have been killing flies on the panes -if he had been a boy! His eyes were steel. - -“Where have you been all the time?” he asked, when he had shaken hands -and said good-morning. - -“Up in my room packing,” I said simply. “Lord Robert was so kind, he -helped me--we have got everything done, and may I order the carriage -for the 5.15 train, please?” - -“Certainly not--confound Lord Robert!” Mr. Carruthers said. “What -business is it of his? You are not to go. I won’t let you. Dear, silly, -little child--” his voice was quite moved. “You can’t possibly go out -into the world all alone. Evangeline, why won’t you marry me? I--do you -know, I believe--I shall love you----” - -“I should have to be _perfectly sure_ that the person I married loved -me, Mr. Carruthers,” I said, demurely, “before I consented to finish up -my life like that.” - -He had no time to answer, for Mr. Barton and Lord Robert came into the -room. - -There seemed a gloom over luncheon. There were pauses, and Lord -Robert had a more pathetic expression than ever. His hands are a nice -shape--but so are Mr. Carruthers’, they both look very much like -gentlemen. - -Before we had finished, a note was brought in to me. It was from Lady -Katherine Montgomerie. She was too sorry, she said, to hear of my -lonely position, and she was writing to ask if I would not come over -and spend a fortnight with them at Tryland Court. - -It was not well worded, and I had never cared much for Lady Katherine, -but it was fairly kind, and fitted in perfectly with my plans. - -She had probably heard of Mr. Carruthers’ arrival, and was scandalized -at my being alone in the house with him. - -Both men had their eyes fixed on my face when I looked up, as I -finished reading the note. - -“Lady Katherine Montgomerie writes to ask me to Tryland,” I said; -“so if you will excuse me I will answer it, and say I will come this -afternoon,”--and I got up. - -Mr. Carruthers rose too, and followed me into the library. He -deliberately shut the door and came over to the writing-table where I -sat down. - -“Well, if I let you go, will you tell her then that you are engaged to -me, and I am going to marry you as soon as possible.” - -“No, indeed I won’t!” I said, decidedly. - -“I am not going to marry you, or any one, Mr. Carruthers. What do -you think of me--! Fancy my consenting to come back here for ever, -and live with you--when I don’t know you a bit--and having to put up -with your--perhaps--kissing me, and, and--things of that sort! It is -perfectly dreadful to think of!” - -He laughed as if in spite of himself. “But supposing I promised not to -kiss you----?” - -“Even so,” I said, and I couldn’t help biting the end of my pen, “it -could happen that I might get a feeling I wanted to kiss some one -else--and there it is! Once you’re married, everything nice is wrong!” - -“Evangeline! I won’t let you go--out of my life--you strange little -witch, you have upset me, disturbed me, I can settle to nothing. I seem -to want you so very much.” - -“Pouff!” I said, and I pouted at him. - -“You have everything in your life to fill it--position, riches, -friends--you don’t want a green-eyed adventuress.” - -I bent down and wrote steadily to Lady Katherine. I would be there -about 6 o’clock, I said, and thanked her in my best style. - -“If I let you go, it is only for the time,” Mr. Carruthers said, as I -signed my name. “I _intend_ you to marry me--do you hear!” - -“Again I say _qui vivra verra_!” I laughed, and rose with the note in -my hand. - -Lord Robert looked almost ready to cry when I told him I was off in the -afternoon. - -“I shall see you again,” he said. “Lady Katherine is a relation of my -aunt’s husband, Lord Merrenden. I don’t know her myself, though.” - -I do not believe him--how can he see me again--young men do talk a lot -of nonsense. - -“I shall come over on Wednesday to see how you are getting on,” Mr. -Carruthers said. “Please do be in.” - -I promised I would, and then I came upstairs. - -And so it has come to an end, my life at Branches. I am going to start -a new phase of existence, my first beginning as an adventuress! - -How completely all one’s ideas can change in a few days. This day -three weeks ago Mrs. Carruthers was alive. This day two weeks ago I -found myself no longer a prospective heiress--and only three days -ago I was contemplating calmly the possibility of marrying Mr. -Carruthers--and now--for heaven--I would not marry any one! And so, for -fresh woods and pastures new. Oh! I want to see the world, and lots of -different human beings--I want to know what it is makes the clock go -round--that great, big, clock of life--I want to dance, and to sing, -and to laugh, and to _live_--and--and--yes--perhaps some day to kiss -some one I love----! - - TRYLAND COURT, HEADINGTON, - - _Wednesday, November 9th._ - -GOODNESS gracious! I have been here four whole days, and I continually -ask myself how I shall be able to stand it for the rest of the -fortnight. Before I left Branches I began to have a sinking at the -heart. There were horribly touching farewells with housekeepers and -people I have known since a child, and one hates to have that choky -feeling--especially as just at the end of it--while tears were still in -my eyes, Mr. Carruthers came out into the hall, and saw them--so did -Lord Robert! - -I blinked, and blinked, but one would trickle down my nose. It was a -horribly awkward moment. - -Mr. Carruthers made profuse inquiries as to my comforts for the drive, -in a tone colder than ever, and insisted upon my drinking some cherry -brandy. Such fussing is quite unlike his usual manner, so I suppose he -too felt it was a tiresome _quart d’heure_. Lord Robert did not hide -his concern, he came up to me and took my hand while Christopher was -speaking to the footman who was going with me. - -“You are a dear,” he said, “and a brick, and don’t you forget I shall -come and stay with Lady Katherine before you leave, so you won’t feel -you are all among strangers.” - -I thanked him, and he squeezed my hand so kindly--I do like Lord Robert. - -Very soon I was gay again, and _insouciante_, and the last they saw of -me was smiling out of the brougham window as I drove off in the dusk. -They both stood upon the steps and waved to me. - -Tea was over at Tryland when I arrived, such a long, damp drive! And -I explained to Lady Katherine how sorry I was to have had to come so -late, and that I could not think of troubling her to have up fresh for -me--but she insisted, and after a while a whole new lot came, made in -a hurry with the water not boiling, and I had to gulp down a nasty -cup--Ceylon tea, too--I hate Ceylon tea! Mr. Montgomerie warmed himself -before the fire, quite shielding it from us, who shivered on a row of -high-backed chairs beyond the radius of the hearth rug. - -He has a way of puffing out his cheeks and making a noise like -“Bur-r-r-r”--which sounds very bluff and hearty, until you find he has -said a mean thing about some one directly after. And while red hair -looks very well on me, I do think a man with it is the ugliest thing in -creation. His face is red, and his nose and cheeks almost purple, and -fiery whiskers, fierce enough to frighten a cat in a dark lane. - -He was a rich Scotch manufacturer, and poor Lady Katherine had to marry -him, I suppose, though, as she is Scotch herself, I daresay she does -not notice that he is rather coarse. - -There are two sons and six daughters, one married, four grown-up, and -one at school in Brussels, and all with red hair!--but straight and -coarse, and with freckles and white eyelashes. So really it is very -kind of Lady Katherine to have asked me here. - -They are all as good as gold on top, and one does poker work, and -another binds books and a third embroiders altar-cloths, and the fourth -knits ties--all for charities, and they ask everyone to subscribe to -them directly they come to the house. The tie and the altar-cloth one -were sitting working hard in the drawing-room--Kirstie and Jean are -their names--Jessie and Maggie, the poker worker and the bookbinder -have a sitting-room to themselves, their workshop they call it. They -were there still, I suppose, for I did not see them until dinner. We -used to meet once a year at Mrs. Carruthers’ Christmas parties ever -since ages and ages, and I remember I hated their tartan sashes, and -they generally had colds in their heads, and one year they gave every -one mumps, so they were not asked the next. The altar-cloth one, Jean, -is my age, the other three are older. - -It was really very difficult to find something to say, and I can -quite understand common people fidgeting when they feel worried like -this. I have never fidgeted since eight years ago, the last time -Mrs. Carruthers boxed my ears for it. Just before going up to dress -for dinner Mr. Montgomerie asked blank out if it was true that Mr. -Carruthers had arrived. Lady Katherine had been skirting round this -subject for a quarter of an hour. - -I only said yes, but that was not enough, and once started, he asked a -string of questions, with “Bur-r-r-r” several times in between. Was Mr. -Carruthers going to shoot the pheasants in November? Had he decided to -keep on the _chef_? Had he given up diplomacy? I said I really did not -know any of these things, I had seen so little of him. - -Lady Katherine nodded her head, while she measured a comforter she was -knitting to see if it was long enough. - -“I am sure it must have been most awkward for you, his arriving at all; -it was not very good taste on his part, I am afraid, but I suppose he -wished to see his inheritance as soon as possible,” she said. - -I nearly laughed, thinking what she would say if she knew which part of -his inheritance he had really come to see. I do wonder if she has ever -heard that Mrs. Carruthers left me to him, more or less, in her will! - -“I hope you had your old governess with you, at least,” she -continued, as we went up the stairs, “so that you could feel less -uncomfortable--really a most shocking situation for a girl alone in the -house with an unmarried man.” - -I told her Mr. Barton was there too, but I had not the courage to say -anything about Lord Robert; only that Mr. Carruthers had a friend of -his down, who was a great judge of pictures, to see them. - -“Oh! a valuer, I suppose. I hope he is not going to sell the -Correggios!” she exclaimed. - -“No, I don’t think so,” I said, leaving the part about the valuer -unanswered. - -Mr. Carruthers, being unmarried, seemed to worry her most; she went on -about it again before we got to my bedroom door. - -“I happened to hear a rumour at Miss Sheriton’s (the wool shop in -Headington, our town), this morning,” she said, “and so I wrote at once -to you. I felt how terrible it would be for one of my own dear girls -to be left alone with a bachelor like that--I almost wonder you did not -stay up in your own rooms.” - -I thanked her for her kind thought, and she left me at last! - -If she only knew! The unmarried ones who came down the passage to talk -to Mademoiselle were not half so saucy as the old fellows with wives -somewhere. Lord Bentworth was married, and he wanted me to kiss him, -whereas Colonel Grimston had no wife, and he never said bo! to a goose! -And I do wonder what she thought Mr. Carruthers was going to do to me, -that it would have been wiser for me to stay up in my rooms. Perhaps -she thinks diplomats, having lived in foreign places, are sort of wild -beasts. - -My room is frightful after my pretty rosy chintzes at Branches. Nasty -yellowish wood furniture, and nothing much matching; however there are -plenty of wardrobes, so Véronique is content. - -They were all in the drawing-room when I got down, and Malcolm, the -eldest son, who is in a Highland Militia regiment, had arrived by a -seven o’clock train. - -I had that dreadful feeling of being very late, and Mr. Montgomerie -wanting to swear at me, though it was only a minute past a quarter to -eight. - -He said “Bur-r-r-r” several times, and flew off to the dining-room with -me tucked under his arm, murmuring it gave no cook a chance to keep the -dinner waiting! So I expected something wonderful in the way of food, -but it is not half so good as our _chef_ gave us at Branches. And the -footmen are not all the same height, and their liveries don’t fit like -Mrs. Carruthers always insisted that ours should do. - -Malcolm _is_ a tittsy-pootsy man! Not as tall as I am, and thin as a -rail, with a look of his knees being too near together. He must be -awful in a kilt, and I am sure he shivers when the wind blows, he has -that air. I don’t like kilts, unless men are big, strong, bronzed -creatures who don’t seem ashamed of their bare bits. I saw some -splendid specimens marching once in Edinburgh, and they swung their -skirts just like the beautiful ladies in the Bois, when Mademoiselle -and I went out of the Allée Mrs. Carruthers told us to try always to -walk in. - -Lady Katherine talked a great deal at dinner about politics, and -her different charities, and the four girls were so respectful and -interested, but Mr. Montgomerie contradicted her whenever he could. I -was glad when we went into the drawing-room. - -That first evening was the worst of all, because we were all so -strange; one seems to get acclimatized to whatever it is after a while. - -Lady Katherine asked me if I had not some fancy work to do. Kirstie had -begun her ties, and Jean the altar-cloth again. - -“Do let Maggie run to your room and fetch it for you,” she said. - -I was obliged to tell her I never did any. “But I--I can trim hats,” -I said. It really seemed so awful not to be able to do anything like -them, I felt I must say this as a kind of defence for myself. - -However, she seemed to think that hardly a lady’s employment. - -“How clever of you!” Kirstie exclaimed. “I wish I could; but don’t you -find that intermittent? You can’t trim them all the time. Don’t you -feel the want of a constant employment?” - -I was obliged to say I had not felt like that yet, but I could not tell -them I particularly loved sitting perfectly still, doing nothing. - -Jessie and Maggie played Patience at two tables which folded up, and -which they brought out, and sat down to with a deliberate accustomed -look, which made me know at once they did this every night, and that I -should see those tables planted exactly on those two spots of carpet -each evening during my whole stay. I suppose it is because they cannot -bring the poker work and the bookbinding into the drawing-room. - -“Won’t you play us something?” Lady Katherine asked, plaintively. -Evidently it was not permitted to do nothing, so I got up and went to -the piano. - -Fortunately I know heaps of things by heart, and I love them, and would -have gone on, and on, so as to fill up the time, but they all said -“thank you” in a chorus after each bit, and it rather put me off. - -Mr. Montgomerie and Malcolm did not come in for ages, and I could see -Lady Katherine getting uneasy. One or two things at dinner suggested to -me that these two were not on the best terms, perhaps she feared they -had come to blows in the dining-room. The Scotch, Mrs. Carruthers said, -have all kinds of rough customs that other nations do not keep up any -longer. - -They did turn up at last, and Mr. Montgomerie was purple all over his -face, and Malcolm a pale green, but there were no bruises on him; only -one could see they had had a terrible quarrel. - -There is something in breeding after all, even if one is of a barbarous -country. Lady Katherine behaved so well, and talked charities -and politics faster than ever, and did not give them time for any -further outburst, though I fancy I heard a few “dams” mixed with the -“bur-r-r-rs,” and not without the “n” on just for ornament, like Lord -Robert’s. - -It was a frightful evening. - - - _Wednesday, Nov. 9th (continued)._ - -Malcolm walked beside me going to church the next day. He looked a -little less depressed and I tried to cheer him up. - -He did not tell me what his worries were, but Jean had said something -about it when she came into my room as I was getting ready. It appears -he has got into trouble over a horse called Angela Grey. Jean gathered -this from Lady Katherine, she said her father was very angry about it, -as he had spent so much money on it. - -To me it does not sound like a horse’s name, and I told Jean so, but -she was perfectly horrified, and said it must be a horse, because they -were not acquainted with any Angela Grey, and did not even know any -Greys at all: so it must be a horse! - -I think that a ridiculous reason, as Mrs. Carruthers said all young men -knew people one wouldn’t want to--and it was silly to make a fuss about -it--and that they couldn’t help it--and they would be very dull if they -were as good as gold like girls. - -But I expect Lady Katherine thinks differently about things to Mrs. -Carruthers, and the daughters are the same. - -I shall ask Lord Robert when I see him again if it is a horse or no. - -Malcolm is not attractive, and I was glad the church was not far off. - -No carriages are allowed out on Sunday, so we had to walk, and coming -back it began to rain, and we could not go round the stables, which I -understand is the custom here every Sunday. - -Everything is done because it is the custom--not because you want to -amuse yourself. - -“When it rains and we can’t go round the stables,” Kirstie said, “we -look at the old ‘Illustrated London News,’ and go there on our way -from afternoon church.” - -I did not particularly want to do that, so stayed in my room as long as -I could. The four girls were seated at a large table in the hall, each -with a volume in front of her when I got down at last. They must know -every picture by heart, if they do it every Sunday it rains--they stay -in England all the winter! - -Jean made room for me beside her. - -“I am at the ‘Sixties,’” she said. “I finished the ‘Fifties’ last -Easter.” So they evidently do even this with a method. - -I asked her if there were not any new books they wanted to read, but -she said Lady Katherine did not care for their looking at magazines or -novels unless she had been through them first, and she had not time for -many, so they kept the few they had to read between tea and dinner on -Sunday. - -By this time I felt I should do something wicked; and if the luncheon -gong had not sounded, I do not know what would have happened. - -Mr. Montgomerie said rather gallant things to me when the cheese and -port came along, while the girls looked shocked, and Lady Katherine -had a stony stare. I suppose he is like this because he is married. I -wonder, though, if young married men are the same, I have never met any -yet. - -By Monday night I was beginning to feel the end of the world would -come soon! It is ten times worse than even having had to conceal all -my feelings, and abjectly obey Mrs. Carruthers. Because she did say -cynical, entertaining things sometimes to me, and to her friends, -that made one laugh. And one felt it was only she who made the people -who were dependent upon her do her way, because she, herself, was so -selfish, and that the rest of the world were free if once one got -outside. - -But Lady Katherine, and the whole Montgomerie _milieu_, give you the -impression that everything and everybody must be ruled by rules; and -no one could have a right to an individual opinion in any sphere of -society. - -You simply can’t laugh, they asphyxiate you. I am looking forward to -this afternoon, and Mr. Carruthers coming over. I often think of the -days at Branches, and how exciting it was, with those two, and I wish I -were back again. - -I have tried to be polite and nice to them all here, and yet they don’t -seem absolutely pleased. - -Malcolm gazes at me with sheep’s eyes. They are a washy blue, with the -family white eyelashes (how different to Lord Robert’s!). He has the -most precise, regulated manner, and never says a word of slang, he -ought to have been a young curate, and I can’t imagine him spending his -money on any Angela Greys, even if she is a horse or not. - -He speaks to me when he can, and asks me to go for walks round the -golf course. The four girls play for an hour and three-quarters every -morning. They never seem to enjoy anything--the whole of life is a -solid duty. I am sitting up in my room, and Véronique has had the sense -to have my fire lighted early. I suppose Mr. Carruthers won’t come -until about four, an hour more to be got through. I have said I must -write letters, and so have escaped from them, and not had to go for the -usual drive. - -I suppose he will have the sense to ask for me, even if Lady Katherine -is not back when he comes. - -This morning it was so fine and frosty a kind of devil seemed to creep -into me. I have been _so_ good since Saturday, so when Malcolm said, in -his usual prim, priggish voice, “Miss Travers, may I have the pleasure -of taking you for a little exercise,” I jumped up without consulting -Lady Katherine, and went and put my things on, and we started. - -I had a feeling that they were all thinking I was doing something -wrong, and so, of course, it made me worse. I said every kind of simple -thing I could to Malcolm to make him jump, and looked at him now and -then from under my eyelashes. So when we got to a stile, he did want to -help me! and his eyes were quite wobblish! He has a giggle right up in -the treble, and it comes out at such unexpected moments, when there is -nothing to laugh at. I suppose it is being Scotch, he has just caught -the meaning of some former joke. There would never be any use in saying -things to him like to Lord Robert and Mr. Carruthers, because one would -have left the place before he understood, if even then. - -There was an old Sir Thomas Farquharson who came to Branches, and he -grasped the deepest jokes of Mrs. Carruthers, so deep that even I did -not understand them, and he was Scotch. It may be they are like that -only when they have red hair. - -When I was seated on top of a stile, Malcolm suddenly announced, “I -hear you are going to London when you go. I hope you will let me come -and see you, but I wish you lived here always.” - -“I don’t,” I said, and then I remembered that sounded rather rude, and -they had been kind to me. “At least--you know, I think the country is -dull--don’t you--for always?” - -“Yes,” he replied, primly, “for men, but it is where I should always -wish to see the woman I respected.” - -“Are towns so wicked?” I asked, in my little angel voice. “Tell me of -their pitfalls, so that I may avoid them.” - -“You must not believe everything people say to you, to begin with,” he -said, seriously. “For one so young as you, I am afraid you will find -your path beset with temptations.” - -“Oh! do tell me what!” I implored. “I have always wanted to know what -temptations were. Please tell me. If you come to see me--would you be -a temptation, or is temptation a thing, and not a person?” I looked at -him so beseechingly, he never for a second saw the twinkle in my eye! - -He coughed pompously. “I expect I should be,” he said, modestly. -“Temptations are--er--er--Oh! I say, you know, I say--I don’t know what -to say----” - -“Oh, what a pity!” I said, regretfully. “I was hoping to hear all about -it from you--specially if you are one yourself, you must know----” - -He looked gratified, but still confused. - -“You see when you are quite alone in London, some man may make love to -you.” - -“Oh! do you think so _really_?” I asked, aghast. “That, I suppose would -be frightful, if I were by myself in the room! Would it be all right, -do you think, if I left the sitting-room door open, and kept Véronique -on the other side?” - -He looked at me hard, but he only saw the face of an unprotected angel, -and, becoming reassured, he said gravely, - -“Yes, it might be just as well!” - -“You do surprise me about love,” I said. “I had no idea it was a -violent kind of thing like that. I thought it began with grave -reverence and respect--and after years of offering flowers and humble -compliments, and bread and butter at tea-parties, the gentleman went -down upon one knee and made a declaration--‘Clara, Maria, I adore -you, be mine,’ and then one put out a lily-white hand, and, blushing, -told him to rise--but that can’t be your sort, and you have not yet -explained what temptation means?” - -“It means more or less wanting to do what you ought not to.” - -“Oh, then!” I said, “I am having temptation all the time, aren’t you? -For instance, I want to tear up Jean’s altar-cloths, and rip Kirstie’s -ties, and tool bad words on Jessie’s bindings, and burn Maggie’s wood -boxes!” - -He looked horribly shocked--and hurt--so I added at once-- - -“Of course it must be lovely to be able to do these things, they are -perfect girls, and so clever--only it makes me feel like that because I -suppose I am--different.” - -He looked at me critically. “Yes, you are different, I wish you would -try to be more like my sisters--then I should not feel so nervous about -your going to London. - -“It is too good of you to worry,” I said, demurely; “but I don’t think -you need, you know! I have rather a strong suspicion I am acquainted -with the way to take care of myself!” and I bent down and laughed right -in his face, and jumped off the stile on to the other side. - -He did look such a teeny shrimp climbing after me! but it does not -matter what is their size, the vanity of men is just the same. I am -sure he thought he had only to begin making love to me himself, and I -would drop like a ripe peach into his mouth. - -I teased him all the way back, until when we got into lunch he did not -know whether he was on his head or his heels! Just as we came up to the -door, he said: - -“I thought your name was Evangeline--why did you say it was Clara -Maria?” - -“Because--it is not!!” I laughed over my shoulder, and ran into the -house. - -He stood on the steps, and if he had been one of the stable boys he -would have scratched his head. - -Now I must stop and dress. I shall put on a black tea frock I have. Mr. -Carruthers shall see I have not caught frumpdom from my hosts! - - - _Night._ - -I do think men are the most horrid creatures, you can’t believe what -they say, or rely upon them for five minutes! Mrs. Carruthers was -right, she said, “Evangeline, remember, it is quite difficult enough -to trust oneself, without trusting a man.” - -Such an afternoon I have had! That annoying feeling of waiting for -something all the time, and nothing happening. For Mr. Carruthers did -not turn up after all! How I wish I had not dressed and expected him. - -He is probably saying to himself he is well out of the business--now -I have gone. I don’t suppose he meant a word of his protestations to -me. Well, he need not worry! I had no intention of jumping down his -throat--only I would have been glad to see him because he is human, and -not like any one here. - -Of course Lord Robert will be the same, and I shall probably never see -either of them again. How can Lord Robert get here, when he does not -know Lady Katherine. No, it was just said to say something nice when I -was leaving, and he will be as horrid as Mr. Carruthers. - -I am thankful at least that I did not tell Lady Katherine, I should -have felt such a goose. Oh! I do wonder what I shall do next. I don’t -know at all how much things cost--perhaps three hundred a year is very -poor. I am sure my best frocks always were five or six hundred francs -each, and I daresay hotels run away with money. But, for the moment, I -am rich, as Mr. Barton kindly advanced some of my legacy to me, and oh! -I am going to see life! and it is absurd to be sad! I shall go to bed, -and forget how cross I feel! - -They are going to have a shoot here next week--Pheasants. I wonder if -they will have a lot of old men. I have not heard all who are coming. - -Lady Katherine said to me after dinner this evening that she was sorry -as she was afraid it would be most awkward for me their having a party, -on account of my deep mourning, and I, if I felt it dreadfully, I need -not consider they would find me the least rude if I preferred to have -dinner in my room! - -I don’t want to have dinner in my room! Think of the stuffiness of it! -and perhaps hearing laughter going on downstairs. - -I can always amuse myself watching faces, however dull they are. I -thanked her, and said it would not be at all necessary, as I must get -accustomed to seeing people, I could not count upon always meeting -hostesses with such kind thoughts as hers, and I might as well get used -to it. - -She said yes, but not cordially. - -To-morrow Mrs. Mackintosh, the eldest daughter, is arriving with her -four children. I remember her wedding five years ago. I have never seen -her since. - -She was very tall and thin, and stooped dreadfully, and Mrs. Carruthers -said Providence had been very kind in giving her a husband at all. But -when Mr. Mackintosh trotted down the aisle with her, I did not think so! - -A wee sandy fellow about up to her shoulder! - -Oh, I would hate to be tied to that! I think to be tied to anything -could not be very nice. I wonder how I ever thought of marrying Mr. -Carruthers off hand! - -I feel now I shall never marry--for years. Of course, one can’t be an -old maid! But for a long time I mean to see life first. - - TRYLAND, - _Thursday, Nov. 10th_. - - “BRANCHES, _Wednesday_. - - “DEAR MISS TRAVERS,--I regret exceedingly I was unable to come over to - Tryland to-day, but hope to do so before you leave. I trust you are - well, and did not catch cold on the drive. - - “Yours very truly, - “CHRISTOPHER CARRUTHERS.” - -_This_ is what I get this morning! Pig! - -Well, I sha’n’t be in if he does come--I can just see him pulling -himself together once temptation (it makes me think of Malcolm!), is -out of his way; he no doubt feels he has had an escape, as I am nobody -very grand. - -The letters come early here, as everywhere, but in a bag which only Mr. -Montgomerie can open, and one has to wait until everyone is seated at -breakfast before he produces the key, and deals them all out. - -Mr. Carruthers’ was the only one for me, and it had “Branches” on the -envelope, which attracted Mr. Montgomerie’s attention, and he began to -“Bur-r-r-r,” and hardly gave me time to read it before he commenced to -ask questions _à propos_ of the place, to get me to say what the letter -was about. He is a curious man. - -“Carruthers is a capital fellow, they tell me--er--You had better ask -him over quietly, Katherine, if he is all alone at Branches”--this with -one eye on me in a questioning way. - -I remained silent. - -“Perhaps he is off to London, though?” - -I pretended to be busy with my coffee. - -“Best pheasant shoot in the county, and a close borough under the old -_régime_; hope he will be more neighbourly--er--suppose he must shoot -’em before December?” - -I buttered my toast. - -Then the “Bur-r-r-rs” began!! I wonder he does not have a noise that -ends with d--n simply, it would save him time! - -“Couldn’t help seeing your letter was from Branches. Hope Carruthers -gives you some news?” - -As he addressed me deliberately I was obliged to answer: - -“I have no information. It is only a business letter,” and I ate toast -again. - -He “bur-r-r-r-d” more than ever, and opened some of his own -correspondence. - -“What am I to do, Katherine?” he said, presently; “that confounded -fellow Campion has thrown me over for next week, and he is my best gun: -at short notice like this, it’s impossible to replace him with the same -class of shot.” - -“Yes, dear,” said Lady Katherine, in that kind of voice that has not -heard the question--she was deep in her own letters. - -“Katherine!” roared Mr. Montgomerie. “Will you listen when I -speak--Bur-r-r-r!” and he thumped his fist on the table. - -Poor Lady Katherine almost jumped, and the china rattled. - -“Forgive me, Anderson,” she said, humbly, “you were saying?” - -“Campion has thrown me over,” glared Mr. Montgomerie. - -“Then I have perhaps the very thing for you,” Lady Katherine said, in -a relieved way, returning to her letters. “Sophia Merrenden writes -this morning, and among other things tells me of her nephew, Lord -Robert Vavasour--you know, Torquilstone’s half-brother. She says he is -the most charming young man, and a wonderful shot--she even suggests” -(looking back a page), “that he might be useful to us, if we are short -of a gun.” - -“Damned kind of her,” growled Mr. Montgomerie. - -I hope they did not notice, but I had suddenly such a thrill of -pleasure that I am sure my cheeks got red. I felt frightfully excited -to hear what was going to happen. - -“Merrenden, as you know, is the best judge of shooting in England,” -Lady Katherine went on, in an injured voice. “Sophia is hardly likely -to recommend his nephew so highly if he were not pretty good.” - -“But you don’t know the puppy, Katherine.” - -My heart fell. - -“That is not the least consequence--we are almost related. Merrenden is -my first cousin, you forget that, I suppose!” - -Fortunately I could detect that Lady Katherine was becoming obstinate -and offended. I drank some more coffee. Oh! how lovely if Lord Robert -comes! - -Mr. Montgomerie “Bur-r-r-ed” a lot first, but Lady Katherine got him -round, and before breakfast was over, it was decided she should write -to Lord Robert, and ask him to come to the shoot. As we were all -standing looking out of the window at the dripping rain, I heard her -say in a low voice, - -“Really, Anderson, we must think of the girls sometimes. Torquilstone -is a confirmed bachelor and a cripple--Lord Robert will certainly one -day be Duke.” - -“Well, catch him if you can,” said Mr. Montgomerie. He is coarse -sometimes! - -I am not going to let myself think much about Lord Robert--Mr. -Carruthers has been a lesson to me--but if he does come--I wonder if -Lady Katherine will think it funny of me not saying I knew him when she -first spoke of him. It is too late now, so it can’t be helped. - -The Mackintosh party arrived this afternoon. Marriage must have quite -different effects on some people. Numbers of the married women we saw -in London were lovely, prettier, I always heard, than they had been -before--but Mary Mackintosh is perfectly awful. She can’t be more than -twenty-seven, but she looks forty, at least; and stout, and sticking -out all in the wrong places, and flat where the stick-outs ought to -be. And the four children! The two eldest look much the same age, the -next a little smaller, and there is a baby, and they all squall, and -although they seem to have heaps of nurses, poor Mr. Mackintosh has to -be a kind of under one. He fetches and carries for them, and gives his -handkerchief when they slobber--but perhaps it is he feels proud that -a person of his size had these four enormous babies almost all at once -like that. - -The whole thing is simply dreadful. - -Tea was a pandemonium! The four aunts gushing over the infants, and -feeding them with cake, and gurgling with “Tootsie-wootsie-popsy-wopsy” -kind of noises. They will get to do “Bur-r-r-rs” I am sure, when they -grow older. I wonder if the infants will come down every afternoon when -the shoot happens. The guests will enjoy it! - -I said to Jean as we came upstairs that I thought it seemed terrible to -get married--did not she? But she was shocked, and said no, marriage -and motherhood were sacred duties, and she envied her sister! - -This kind of thing is not my idea of bliss. Two really well-behaved -children would be delicious, I think; but four squalling imps all about -the same age is _bourgeois_, and not the affair of a lady. - -I suppose Lord Robert’s answer cannot get here till about Saturday. I -wonder how he arranged it! It is clever of him. Lady Katherine said -this Mr. Campion who was coming is in the same regiment, the 3rd Life -Guards. Perhaps when--but there is no use my thinking about it--only -somehow I am feeling so much better to-night--gay, and as if I did not -mind being very poor--that I was obliged to tease Malcolm a little -after dinner. I _would_ play Patience, and never lifted my eyes from -the cards! - -He kept trying to say things to me to get me to go to the piano, -but I pretended I did not notice. A palm stands at the corner of a -high Chippendale writing bureau, and Jessie happened to have put the -Patience table behind that rather, so the rest of them could not see -everything that was happening. Malcolm at last sat very near beside me, -and wanted to help with the aces--but I can’t bear people being close -to me, so I upset the board, and he had to pick up all the cards on the -floor. Kirstie, for a wonder, played the piano then--a cake walk--and -there was something in it that made me feel I wanted to move--to -dance--to undulate--I don’t know what, and my shoulders swayed a little -in time to the music. Malcolm breathed quite as if he had a cold, and -said right in my ear, in a fat voice, - -“You know you are a devil--and I----” - -I stopped him at once--looked up for the first time, absolutely shocked -and surprised. - -“Really, Mr. Montgomerie, I do not know what you mean,” I said. - -He began to fidget. - -“Er--I mean--I mean--I awfully wish to kiss you.” - -“But I do not a bit wish to kiss you!” I said, and I opened my eyes -wide at him. - -He looked like a spiteful bantam, and fortunately at that moment Jessie -returned to the Patience, and he could not say any more. - -Lady Katherine and Mrs. Mackintosh came into my room on the way up to -bed. She--Lady Katherine--wanted to show Mary how beautifully they had -had it done up, it used to be hers before she married. They looked all -round at the dead-daffodil-coloured cretonne and things, and at last I -could see their eyes often straying to my night-gown and dressing-gown, -laid out on a chair beside the fire. - -“Oh, Lady Katherine, I am afraid you are wondering at my having pink -silk,” I said, apologetically, “as I am in mourning, but I have not had -time to get a white dressing-gown yet.” - -“It is not that, dear,” said Lady Katherine, in a grave duty voice. -“I--I--do not think such a night-gown is suitable for a girl.” - -“Oh! but I am very strong,” I said. “I never catch cold.” - -Mary Mackintosh held it up, with a face of stern disapproval. Of course -it has short sleeves ruffled with Valenciennes, and is fine linen -cambric nicely embroidered. Mrs. Carruthers was always very particular -about them, and chose them herself at Doucet’s. She said one never -could know when places might catch on fire. - -“Evangeline, dear, you are very young, so you probably cannot -understand,” Mary said, “but I consider this garment not in any way fit -for a girl--or for any good woman for that matter. Mother, I hope my -sisters have not seen it!!” - -I looked so puzzled. - -She examined the stuff, one could see the chair through it, beyond. - -“What _would_ Alexander say if I were to wear such a thing!” - -This thought seemed almost to suffocate them both, they looked -genuinely pained and shocked. - -“Of course it would be too tight for you,” I said, humbly, “but it is -otherwise a very good pattern, and does not tear when one puts up one’s -arms. Mrs. Carruthers made a fuss at Doucet’s because my last set tore -so soon, and they altered these.” - -At the mention of my late adopted mother, both of them pulled -themselves up. - -“Mrs. Carruthers we know had very odd notions,” Lady Katherine said -stiffly, “but I hope, Evangeline, you have sufficient sense to -understand now for yourself that such a--a--garment is not at all -seemly.” - -“Oh! why not, dear Lady Katherine?” I said. “You don’t know how -becoming it is.” - -“Becoming!” almost screamed Mary Mackintosh. “But no nice-minded woman -wants things to look becoming in bed!” - -The whole matter appeared so painful to them I covered up the offending -‘nighty’ with my dressing-gown, and coughed. It made a break, and they -went away, saying good-night frigidly. - -And now I am alone. But I do wonder why it is wrong to look pretty in -bed,--considering nobody sees one, too! - - - - - TRYLAND COURT, - _Monday, November 14th_. - - -I HAVE not felt like writing; these last days have been so -stodgy,--sticky I was going to say! Endless infant talk! The methods of -head nurses, teething, the knavish tricks of nursemaids, patent foods, -bottles, bibs--everything! Enough to put one off for ever from wishing -to get married! And Mary Mackintosh sitting there all out of shape, -expounding theories that can have no results in practice, as there -could not be worse behaved children than hers! - -They even try Lady Katherine, I can see, when the two eldest, who come -in while we are at breakfast each day, take the jam spoon, or something -equally horrid, and dab it all over the cloth. Yesterday they put their -hands in the honey dish which Mr. Montgomerie was helping himself to, -and then after smearing him (the “Bur-r-r-s” were awful) they went -round the table to escape being caught, and fingered the back of every -one’s chair, and the door handle, so that one could not touch a thing -without getting sticky. - -“Alexander, dearie,” Mary said, “Alec must have his mouth wiped.” - -Poor Mr. Mackintosh had to get up and leave his breakfast, catch these -imps, and employ his table-napkin in vain. - -“Take ’em upstairs, do, Bur-r-r-r,” roared their fond grandfather. - -“Oh, father, the poor darlings are not really naughty!” Mary said, -offended. “I like them to be with us all as much as possible. I thought -they would be such a pleasure to you.” - -Upon which, hearing the altercation, both infants set up a yell of -fear and rage, and Alec, the cherub of four and a half, lay on the -floor and kicked and screamed until he was black in the face. - -Mr. Mackintosh is too small to manage two, so one of the footmen had to -come and help him to carry them up to their nursery! Oh, I would not be -in his place for the world! - -Malcolm is becoming so funny! I suppose he is attracted by me. He makes -kind of love in a priggish way whenever he gets the chance, which is -not often, as Lady Katherine contrives to send one of the girls with -us on all our walks, or if we are in the drawing-room she comes and -sits down beside us herself. I am glad, as it would be a great bore to -listen to a quantity of it. - -How silly of her, though! She can’t know as much about men as even I -do--of course it only makes him all the more eager. - -It is quite an object lesson for me. I shall be impossibly difficult -myself if I meet Mr. Carruthers again, as he has no mother to play -these tricks for him. - -Lord Robert’s answer came on Saturday afternoon. It was all done -through Lady Merrenden. - -He will be delighted to come and shoot on Tuesday--to-morrow. Oh! I am -so glad--but I do wonder if I shall be able to make him understand not -to say anything about having been at Branches while I was there. Such a -simple thing, but Lady Katherine is so odd and particular. - -The party is to be a large one, nine guns--I hope some will be amusing, -though I rather fear! - - - - - _Tuesday night_ - - -IT is quite late, nearly twelve o’clock, but I feel so wide awake I -must write. - -I shall begin from the beginning, when every one arrived. - -They came by two trains early in the afternoon, and just at tea time, -and Lord Robert was among the last lot. - -They are mostly the same sort as Lady Katherine, looking as good -as gold; but one woman, Lady Verningham, Lady Katherine’s niece, is -different, and I liked her at once. - -She has lovely clothes, and an exquisite figure, and her hat on the -right way. She has charming manners too, but one can see she is on a -duty visit. - -Even all this company did not altogether stop Mary Mackintosh laying -down the law upon domestic--infant domestic--affairs. We all sat in the -big drawing-room, and I caught Lady Verningham’s eye, and we laughed -together! The first eye with a meaning in it I have seen since I left -Branches. - -Everybody talked so agreeably, with pauses, not enjoying themselves at -all, when Jean and Kirstie began about their work, and explained it, -and tried to get orders, and Jessie and Maggie too, and specimens of it -all had to be shown, and prices fixed. I should hate to have to beg, -even for a charity. - -I felt quite uncomfortable for them, but they did not mind a bit, and -their victims were noble over it. - -Our parson at Branches always got so red and nervous when he had to ask -for anything; one could see he was quite a gentleman--but women are -different, I suppose. - -I longed for tea! - -While they are all very kind here, there is that asphyxiating -atmosphere of stiffness and decorum which affects every one who comes -to Tryland. A sort of “The gold must be tried by fire, and the heart -must be wrung by pain” kind of suggestion about everything. - -They are extraordinarily cheerful, because it is a Christian virtue, -cheerfulness; not because they are brimming over with joy, or that -lovely feeling of being alive, and not minding much what happens, you -feel so splendid, like I get on fine days. - -Everything they do has a reason or a moral in it. This party is because -pheasants have to be killed in November--and certain people have to be -entertained, and their charities can be assisted through them. Oh! if I -had a big house, and were rich, I would have lovely parties, with all -sorts of nice people, because I wanted to give them a good time and -laugh myself. Lady Verningham was talking to me just before tea, when -the second train load arrived. - -I tried to be quite indifferent, but I did feel dreadfully excited when -Lord Robert walked in. Oh! he looked such a beautiful creature, so -smart, and straight, and lithe! - -Lady Katherine was frightfully stiff with him; it would have -discouraged most people, but that is the lovely part about Lord Robert, -he is always absolutely _sans gêne_! - -He saw me at once, of course, and came over as straight as a die the -moment he could. - -“How do, Robert!” said Lady Verningham, looking very surprised to see -him, and giving him her fingers in such an attractive way. _How_ are -you here? And why is our Campie not? Thereby hangs some tale, I feel -sure!” - -“Why, yes!” said Lord Robert, and he held her hand. Then he looked at -me with his eyebrows up. “But won’t you introduce me to Miss Travers? -to my great chagrin she seems to have forgotten me!” - -I laughed, and Lady Verningham introduced us, and he sat down beside -us, and every one began tea. - -Lady Verningham had such a look in her eye! - -“Robert, tell me about it!” she said. - -“I hear they have five thousand pheasants to slay,” Lord Robert -replied, looking at her with his innocent smile. - -“Robert, you are lying!” she said, and she laughed. She is so pretty -when she laughs, not very young, over thirty I should think, but such -a charm! As different as different can be from the whole Montgomerie -family! - -I hardly spoke, they continued to tease one another, and Lord Robert -ate most of a plate of bread and butter that was near. - -“I am dam’d hungry, Lady Ver!” he said. She smiled at him; she -evidently likes him very much. - -“Robert! you must not use such language here!” she said. - -“Oh, doesn’t he say them often! those dams!” I burst out, not thinking -for a moment--then I stopped, remembering. She did seem surprised. - -“So you have heard them before! I thought you had only just met -casually!” she said, with such a comic look of understanding, but not -absolutely pleased. I stupidly got crimson, it did annoy me, because -it shows so dreadfully on my skin. She leant back in her chair, and -laughed. - -“It is delightful to shoot five thousand pheasants, Robert,” she said. - -“Now, isn’t it?” replied Lord Robert. He had finished the bread and -butter. - -Then he told her she was a dear, and he was glad something had -suggested to Mr. Campion that he would have other views of living for -this week. - -“You are a joy, Robert!” she said, “but you will have to behave here. -None of the tricks you played at Fotherington in October, my child. -Aunt Katherine would put you in a corner. Miss Travers has been here a -week, and can tell you I am truthful about it.” - -“Indeed, _yes!_” I said. - -“But I _must_ know how you got here,” she commanded. - -Just then, fortunately, Malcolm, who had been hovering near, came up -and joined us, and would talk too; but if he had been a table, or a -chair, he could not have mattered less to Lord Robert! He is quite -wonderful! He is not the least rude, only perfectly simple and direct, -always getting just what he wants, with rather an appealing expression -in his blue eyes. In a minute or two he and I were talking together, -and Malcolm and Lady Verningham a few yards off. I felt so happy. He -makes one like that, I don’t know for what reason. - -“Why did you look so stonily indifferent when I came up,” he asked. “I -was afraid you were annoyed with me for coming.” - -Then I told him about Lady Katherine, and my stupidly not having -mentioned meeting him at Branches. - -“Oh! then I stayed with Christopher after you left--I see,” he said. -“Had I met you in London?” - -“We won’t tell any stories about it. They can think what they please.” - -“Very well!” he laughed. “I can see I shall have to manœuvre a good -deal to talk quietly to you here, but you will stand with me, won’t -you, out shooting to-morrow!” - -I told him I did not suppose we should be allowed to go out, except -perhaps for lunch--but he said he refused to believe in such cruelty. - -Then he asked me a lot of things about how I had been getting on, and -what I intended to do next. He has the most charming way of making one -feel that one knows him very well, he looks at one every now and then -straight in the eyes, with astonishing frankness. I have never seen any -person so quite without airs, I don’t suppose he is ever thinking a bit -the effect he is producing. Nothing has two meanings with him like with -Mr. Carruthers. If he had said I was to stay and marry him, I am sure -he would have meant it, and I really believe I should have stayed! - -“Do you remember our morning packing?” he said, presently, in such a -caressing voice. “I was so happy, weren’t you?” - -I said I was. - -“And Christopher was mad with us! He was like a bear with a sore head -after you left, and insisted upon going up to town on Monday just for -the day; he came over here on Tuesday, didn’t he?” - -“No, he did not,” I was obliged to say, and I felt cross about it -still, I don’t know why. - -“He is a queer creature,” said Lord Robert, “and I am glad you have not -seen him--I don’t want him in the way. I am a selfish brute, you know.” - -I said Mrs. Carruthers had always brought me up to know men were that, -so such a thing would not prejudice me against him. - -He laughed. “You must help me to come and sit and talk again, after -dinner,” he said. “I can see the red-haired son means you for himself, -but, of course, I shall not allow that!” - -I became uppish. - -“Malcolm and I are great friends,” I said, demurely. “He walks me -round the golf course in the park, and gives me advice.” - -“Confounded impertinence!” said Lord Robert. - -“He thinks I ought not to go to Claridge’s alone when I leave here, -in case some one made love to me. He feels if I looked more like his -sisters it would be safer. I have promised that Véronique shall stay at -the other side of the door if I have visitors.” - -“Oh, he is afraid of that, is he! Well, I think it is very probable his -fears will be realized, as I shall be in London,” said Lord Robert. - -“But how do you know,” I began, with a questioning, serious air; “how -do you know I should listen? You can’t go on to deaf people, can you?” - -“Are you deaf?” he asked. “I don’t think so, anyway I would try to cure -your deafness.” He bent close over to me, pretending to pick up a book. - -Oh, I was having such a nice time! - -All of a sudden I felt I was really living, the blood was jumping in my -veins, and a number of provoking, agreeable things came to the tip of -my tongue to say, and I said them. We were so happy! - -Lord Robert is such a beautiful shape, that pleased me too; the perfect -lines of things always give me a nice emotion. The other men look thick -and clumsy beside him, and he does have such lovely clothes and ties! - -We talked on and on. He began to show me he was deeply interested in -me. His eyes, so blue and expressive, said even more than his words. -I like to see him looking down; his eyelashes are absurdly long and -curly, not jet black like mine and Mr. Carruthers’, but dark brown and -soft, and shaded, and oh! I don’t know how to say quite why they are -so attractive. When one sees them half resting on his cheek it makes -one feel it would be nice to put out the tip of one’s finger, and touch -them. I never spent such a delightful afternoon. Only alas! it was all -too short. - -“We will arrange to sit together after dinner,” he whispered, as even -before the dressing gong had rung Lady Katherine came and fussed -about, and collected every one, and more or less drove them off to -dress, saying, on the way upstairs, to me, that I need not come down if -I had rather not! - -I thanked her again, but remained firm in my intention of accustoming -myself to company. - -Stay in my room, indeed, with Lord Robert at dinner--never! - -However, when I did come down, he was surrounded by Montgomeries, -and pranced into the dining-room with Lady Verningham. She must have -arranged that. - -I had such a bore! A young Mackintosh cousin of Mary’s husband, and -on the other side the parson. The one talked about botany in a hoarse -whisper, with a Scotch accent, and the other gobbled his food, and made -kind of pious jokes in between the mouthfuls! - -I said--when I had borne it bravely up to the ices--I hated knowing -what flowers were composed of, I only liked to pick them. The youth -stared, and did not speak much more. For the parson, “yes” now and then -did, and like that we got through dinner. - -Malcolm was opposite me, and he gaped most of the time. Even he might -have been better than the botanist, but I suppose Lady Katherine felt -these two would be a kind of half mourning for me. No one could have -felt gay with them. - -After dinner Lady Verningham took me over to a sofa with her, in -a corner. The sofas here don’t have pillows, as at Branches, but -fortunately this one is a little apart, though not comfortable, and we -could talk. - -“You poor child,” she said, “you had a dull time. I was watching you! -What did that M^cTavish creature find to say to you?” - -I told her, and that his name was Mackintosh, not M^cTavish. - -“Yes, I know,” she said, “but I call the whole clan M^cTavish--it is -near enough, and it does worry Mary so; she corrects me every time. -Now don’t you want to get married, and be just like Mary?” There was a -twinkle in her eye. - -I said I had not felt wild about it yet. I wanted to go and see life -first. - -But she told me one couldn’t see life unless one was married. - -“Not even if one is an adventuress, like me?” I asked. - -“A _what!!_” - -“An adventuress,” I said. “People do seem so astonished when I say -that! I have got to be one, you know, because Mrs. Carruthers never -left me the money after all, and in the book I read about it, it said -you were that if you had nice clothes, and--and--red hair--and things -and no home.” - -She rippled all over with laughter. - -“You duck!” she said. “Now you and I will be friends. Only you must not -play with Robert Vavasour. He belongs to me! He is one of my special -and particular own pets. Is it a bargain?” - -I do wish now I had had the pluck then to say straight out that I -rather liked Lord Robert, and would not make any bargain, but one is -foolish sometimes when taken suddenly. It is then when I suppose it -shows if one’s head is screwed on firmly, and mine wasn’t to-night. -But she looked so charming, and I felt a little proud, and perhaps -ashamed to show that I am very much interested in Lord Robert, -especially if he belongs to her, whatever that means, and so I said it -was a bargain, and of course I had never thought of playing with him, -but when I came to reflect afterwards, that is a promise, I suppose, -and I sha’n’t be able to look at him any more under my eyelashes. And I -don’t know why I feel very wide awake and tired, and rather silly, and -as if I wanted to cry to-night. - -However, she was awfully kind to me, and lovely, and has asked me to go -and stay with her, and lots of nice things, so it is all for the best, -no doubt. But when Lord Robert came in, and came over to us, it did -feel hard having to get up at once and go and pretend I wanted to talk -to Malcolm. - -I did not dare to look up often, but sometimes, and I found Lord -Robert’s eyes were fixed on me with an air of reproach and entreaty, -and the last time there was wrath as well? - -Lady Verningham kept him with her until every one started to go to bed. - -There had been music and bridge, and other boring diversions happening, -but I sat still. And I don’t know what Malcolm had been talking about, -I had not been listening, though I kept murmuring “Yes” and “No.” - -He got more and more _empressé_, until suddenly I realized he was -saying, as we rose: - -“You have promised! Now remember, and I shall ask you to keep -it--to-morrow!” - -And there was such a loving, mawkish, wobbly look in his eyes, it -made me feel quite sick. The horrible part is, I don’t know what I -have promised any more than the man in the moon! It may be something -perfectly dreadful, for all I know! Well, if it is a fearful thing, -like kissing him, I shall have to break my word,--which I never do for -any consideration whatever. - -Oh, dear! oh, dear! it is not always so easy to laugh at life as I -once thought! I almost wish I were settled down, and had not to be an -adventuress. Some situations are so difficult. I think now I shall go -to bed. - -I wonder if Lord Robert--no, what is the good of wondering; he is no -longer my affair. - -I shall blow out the light! - - - - - 300, PARK STREET, - _Saturday night, Nov. 19th_. - - -I DO not much care to look back to the rest of my stay at Tryland. It -is an unpleasant memory. - -That next day after I last wrote, it poured with rain, and every one -came down cross to breakfast. The whole party appeared except Lady -Verningham, and breakfast was just as stiff and boring as dinner. I -happened to be seated when Lord Robert came in, and Malcolm was in the -place beside me. Lord Robert hardly spoke, and looked at me once, or -twice, with his eyebrows right up. - -I did long to say it was because I had promised Lady Ver I would not -play with him that I was not talking to him now like the afternoon -before. I wonder if he ever guessed it. Oh! I wished then, and I have -wished a hundred times since, that I had never promised at all. It -seemed as if it would be wisest to avoid him, as how could I explain -the change in myself. I hated the food, and Malcolm had such an air of -proprietorship, it annoyed me as much as I could see it annoyed Lady -Katherine. I sniffed at him, and was as disagreeable as could be. - -The breakfasts there don’t shine, and porridge is pressed upon people -by Mr. Montgomerie. “Capital stuff to begin the day, Bur-r-r-r,” he -says. - -Lord Robert could not find anything he wanted, it seemed. Every one -was peevish. Lady Katherine has a way of marshalling people on every -occasion; she reminds me of a hen with chickens, putting her wings -down, and clucking, and chasing, till they are all in a corner. And -she is rather that shape, too, very much rounded in front. The female -brood soon found themselves in the morning-room, with the door shut, -and no doubt the male things fared the same with their host, anyway we -saw no more of them till we caught sight of them passing the windows in -’scutums and mackintoshes, a depressed company of sportsmen. - -The only fortunate part was that Malcolm had found no opportunity to -remind me of my promise, whatever it was, and I felt safer. - -Oh! that terrible morning! Much worse than when we were alone--nearly -all of them--about seven women beyond the family--began fancy work. - -One, a Lady Letitia Smith, was doing a crewel silk blotting-book that -made me quite bilious to look at, and she was very short-sighted, and -had such an irritating habit of asking every one to match her threads -for her. They knitted ties and stockings, and crocheted waistcoats and -comforters and hoods for the North Sea fishermen, and one even tatted. -Just like housemaids do in their spare hours to trim Heaven knows what -garment of unbleached calico. - -I asked her what it was for, and she said for the children’s pinafores -in her “Guild” work. If one doesn’t call that waste of time, I wonder -what is! - -Mrs. Carruthers said it was much more useful to learn to sit still and -not fidget than to fill the world with rubbish like this. - -Mary Mackintosh dominated the conversation. She and Lady Letitia Smith, -who have both small babies, revelled in nursery details, and then -whispered bits for us--the young girls--not to hear. We caught scraps -though, and it sounded gruesome, whatever it was about. Oh! I do wonder -when I get married if I shall grow like them. - -I hope not. - -It is no wonder married men are obliged to say gallant things to other -people, if, when they get home, their wives are like that. - -I tried to be agreeable to a lady who was next me. She was a Christian -Scientist, and wore glasses. She endeavoured to convert me, but I was -abnormally thick-headed that day, and had to have things explained over -and over, so she gave it up at last. - -Finally when I felt I should do something desperate, a footman came to -say Lady Verningham wished to see me in her room, and I bounded up--but -as I got to the door I saw them beginning to shake their heads over -her. - -“Sad that dear Ianthe has such irregular habits of breakfasting in her -room--so bad for her,” etc., etc., but thank heaven, I was soon outside -in the hall, where her maid was waiting for me. - -One would hardly have recognized that it was a Montgomerie apartment, -the big room overlooking the porch, where she was located. So changed -did its aspect seem! She had numbers of photographs about, and the -loveliest gold toilet things, and lots of frilled garments, and -flowers, and scent bottles, and her own pillows propping her up, all -blue silk, and lovely muslin embroideries, and she did look such a -sweet cosy thing among it all. Her dark hair in fluffs round her face, -and an angelic lace cap over it. She was smoking a cigarette, and -writing numbers of letters with a gold stylograph pen. The blue silk -quilt was strewn with correspondence, and newspapers, and telegraph -forms. And her garment was low-necked, of course, and thin like mine -are. I wondered what Alexander would have thought if he could have seen -her in contrast to Mary! I know which I would choose if I were a man! - -“Oh, there you are!” she exclaimed, looking up and puffing smoke -clouds. “Sit on the bye-bye, Snake-girl. I felt I must rescue you from -the horde of Holies below, and I wanted to look at you in the daylight. -Yes, you have extraordinary hair, and real eyelashes and complexion, -too. You are a witch thing, I can see, and we shall all have to beware -of you!” - -I smiled. She did not say it rudely, or I should have been uppish at -once. She has a wonderful charm. - -“You don’t speak much, either,” she continued. “I feel you are -dangerous! that is why I am being so civil to you; I think it wisest. I -can’t stand girls as a rule!” And she went into one of her ripples of -laughter. “Now say you will not hurt me!” - -“I should not hurt anyone,” I said, “unless they hurt me first--and I -like you--you are so pretty.” - -“That is all right,” she said, “then we are comrades. I was frightened -about Robert last evening, because I am so attached to him, but you -were a darling after dinner, and it will be all right now; I told -him you would probably marry Malcolm Montgomerie, and he was not to -interfere.” - -“I shall do nothing of the kind!” I exclaimed, moving off the bed. “I -would as soon die as spend the rest of my life here at Tryland.” - -“He will be fabulously rich one day, you know, and you could get round -Père Montgomerie in a trice, and revolutionize the whole place. You had -better think of it.” - -“I won’t,” I said, and I felt my eyes sparkle. She put up her hands as -if to ward off an evil spirit, and she laughed again. - -“Well, you sha’n’t then! Only don’t flash those emeralds at me, they -give me quivers all over!” - -“Would _you_ like to marry Malcolm?” I asked, and I sat down again. -“Fancy being owned by that! Fancy seeing it every day! Fancy living -with a person who never sees a joke from week’s end to week’s end. Oh!” - -“As for that”--and she puffed smoke--“husbands are a race apart--there -are men, women, and husbands, and if they pay bills, and shoot big game -in Africa, it is all one ought to ask of them; to be able to see jokes -is superfluous. Mine is most inconvenient, because he generally adores -me, and at best only leaves me for a three weeks’ cure at Homburg, and -now and then a week in Paris, but Malcolm could be sent to the Rocky -Mountains, and places like that, continuously; he is quite a sportsman.” - -“That is not my idea of a husband,” I said. - -“Well, what is your idea, Snake-girl?” - -“Why do you call me ‘Snake-girl?’” I asked. “I hate snakes.” - -She took her cigarette out of her mouth, and looked at me for some -seconds. - -“Because you are so sinuous, there is not a stiff line about your -movements--you are utterly wicked looking and attractive too, and -un-English, and what in the world Aunt Katherine asked you here for, -with those hideous girls, I can’t imagine. I would not have if my -three angels were grown up, and like them.” Then she showed me the -photographs of her three angels--they are pets. - -But my looks seemed to bother her, for she went back to the subject. - -“Where do you get them from? Was your mother some other nation?” - -I told her how poor mamma had been rather an accident, and was nobody -much. “One could not tell, you see, she might have had any quaint -creature beyond the grandparents--perhaps I am mixed with Red Indian, -or nigger.” - -She looked at me searchingly. - -“No, you are not, you are Venetian--that is it--some wicked, beautiful -friend of a Doge come to life again.” - -“I know I am wicked,” I said; “I am always told it, but I have not done -anything yet, or had any fun out of it, and I do want to.” - -She laughed again. - -“Well, you must come to London with me when I leave here on Saturday, -and we will see what we can do.” - -This sounded so nice, and yet I had a feeling that I wanted to refuse; -if there had been a tone of patronage in her voice, I would have in -a minute. We sat and talked a long time, and she did tell me some -interesting things. The world, she assured me, was a delightful place -if one could escape bores, and had a good cook and a few friends. After -a while I left her, as she suddenly thought she would come down to -luncheon. - -“I don’t think it would be safe, at the present stage, to leave you -alone with Robert,” she said. - -I was angry. - -“I have promised not to play with him, is that not enough!” I exclaimed. - -“Do you know, I believe it is, Snake-girl!” she said, and there was -something wistful in her eyes, “but you are twenty, and I am past -thirty, and--he is a man!--so one can’t be too careful!” Then she -laughed, and I left her putting a toe into a blue satin slipper, and -ringing for her maid. - -I don’t think age can matter much, she is far far more attractive than -any girl, and she need not pretend she is afraid of me. But the thing -that struck me then, and has always struck me since is that to have to -_hold_ a man by one’s own manœuvres could not be agreeable to one’s -self-respect. I would _never_ do that under any circumstances; if he -would not stay because it was the thing he wanted to do most in the -world, he might go. I should say, “_Je m’en fiche!_” - -At luncheon, for which the guns came in,--no nice picnic in a lodge -as at Branches--I purposely sat between two old gentlemen, and did my -best to be respectful and intelligent. One was quite a nice old thing, -and at the end began paying me compliments. He laughed, and laughed at -everything I said. Opposite me were Malcolm and Lord Robert, with Lady -Ver between them. They both looked sulky. It was quite a while before -she could get them gay and pleasant. I did not enjoy myself. - -After it was over, Lord Robert deliberately walked up to me. - -“Why are you so capricious?” he asked. “I won’t be treated like this, -you know very well I have only come here to see you. We are such -friends--or were. Why?” - -Oh! I did want to say I was friends still, and would love to talk to -him. He seemed so adorably good looking, and such a shape! and his blue -eyes had the nicest flash of anger in them. - -I could have kept my promise to the letter, and yet broken it in the -spirit, easily enough, by letting him understand by inference--but of -course one could not be so mean as that, when one was going to eat her -salt, so I looked out of the window, and answered coldly that I was -quite friendly, and did not understand him, and I immediately turned -to my old gentleman, and walked with him into the library. In fact I -was as cool as I could be without being actually rude, but all the time -there was a flat, heavy feeling round my heart. He looked so cross and -reproachful, and I did not like him to think me capricious. - -We did not see them again until tea; the sportsmen, I mean. But tea at -Tryland is not a friendly time. It is just as stiff as other meals. -Lady Ver never let Lord Robert leave her side, and immediately after -tea everybody who stayed in the drawing-room played bridge, where they -were planted until the dressing-bell rang. - -One would have thought Lady Katherine would have disapproved of cards, -but I suppose every one must have one contradiction about them, for she -loves bridge, and played for the lowest stakes with the air of a “needy -adventurer” as the books say. - -I can’t write the whole details of the rest of the visit. I was -miserable, and that is the truth. Fate seemed to be against Lord Robert -speaking to me--even when he tried--and I felt I must be extra cool and -nasty because I--Oh! well, I may as well say it--he attracts me very -much. I never once looked at him from under my eyelashes, and after the -next day, he did not even try to have an explanation. - -He glanced with wrath sometimes--especially when Malcolm hung over -me--and Lady Ver said his temper was dreadful. - -She was so sweet to me, it almost seemed as if she wanted to make up to -me for not letting me play with Lord Robert. - -(Of course I would not allow her to see I minded that.) - -And finally Friday came, and the last night. - -I sat in my room from tea until dinner. I could not stand Malcolm any -longer. I had fenced with him rather well up to that, but that promise -of mine hung over me. I nipped him every time he attempted to explain -what it was, and to this moment l don’t know, but it did not prevent -him from saying tiresome, loving things, mixed with priggish advice. I -don’t know what would have happened only when he got really horribly -affectionate just after tea I was so exasperated, I launched this bomb. - -“I don’t believe a word you are saying--your real interest is Angela -Grey.” - -He nearly had a fit, and shut up at once. So, of course, it is not a -horse. I felt sure of it. Probably one of those people Mrs. Carruthers -said all young men knew; their adolescent measles and chicken-pox she -called them. - -All the old men talked a great deal to me; and even the other two -young ones, but these last days I did not seem to have any of my usual -spirits. Just as we were going to bed on Friday night Lord Robert came -up to Lady Ver--she had her hand through my arm. - -“I can come to the play with you to-morrow night, after all,” he said. -“I have wired to Campion to make a fourth, and you will get some other -woman, won’t you?” - -“I will try,” said Lady Ver, and she looked right into his eyes, then -she turned to me. “I shall feel so cruel leaving you alone, Evangeline” -(at once almost she called me Evangeline, I should never do that with -strangers), “but I suppose you ought not to be seen at a play just yet.” - -“I like being alone,” I said. “I shall go to sleep early.” - -Then they settled to dine all together at her house, and go on; so, -knowing I should see him again, I did not even say good-bye to Lord -Robert, and he left by the early train. - -A number of the guests came up to London with us. - -My leavetaking with Lady Katherine had been coldly cordial. I thanked -her deeply for her kindness in asking me there. She did not renew the -invitation; I expect she felt a person like I am, who would have to -look after herself, was not a suitable companion to her altar-cloth and -poker workers. - -Up to now--she told Lady Ver--of course I had been most carefully -brought up and taken care of by Mrs. Carruthers, although she had -not approved of her views. And having done her best for me at this -juncture, saving me from staying alone with Mr. Carruthers, she felt -it was all she was called upon to do. She thought my position would -become too unconventional for their circle in future! Lady Ver told me -all this with great glee. She was sure it would amuse me, it so amused -her--but it made me a teeny bit remember the story of the boys and the -frogs! - -Lady Ver now and then puts out a claw which scratches, while she -ripples with laughter. Perhaps she does not mean it. - -This house is nice, and full of pretty things as far as I have seen. We -arrived just in time to fly into our clothes for dinner. I am in a wee -room four stories up, by the three angels. I was down first, and Lord -Robert and Mr. Campion were in the drawing-room. Sir Charles Verningham -is in Paris, by the way, so I have not seen him yet. - -Lord Robert was stroking the hair of the eldest angel, who had not gone -to bed. The loveliest thing she is, and so polite, and different from -Mary Mackintosh’s infants. - -He introduced Mr. Campion stiffly, and returned to Mildred--the angel. - -Suddenly mischief came into me, the reaction from the last dull days, -so I looked straight at Mr. Campion from under my eyelashes, and it -had the effect it always has on people, he became interested at once. -I don’t know why this does something funny to them. I remember I first -noticed it in the schoolroom at Branches. I was doing a horrible -exercise upon the _Participe Passé_, and feeling very _égarée_, when -one of the old Ambassadors came in to see Mademoiselle. I looked up -quickly, with my head a little down, and he said to Mademoiselle, in a -low voice, in German, that I had the strangest eyes he had ever seen, -and that up look under the eyelashes was the affair of the devil! - -Now I knew even then the affair of the devil is something attractive, -so I have never forgotten it, although I was only about fifteen at the -time. I always determined I would try it when I grew up, and wanted to -create emotions. Except Mr. Carruthers and Lord Robert I have never had -much chance though. - -Mr. Campion sat down beside me on a sofa, and began to say at once that -I ought to be going to the play with them; I spoke in my velvet voice, -and said I was in too deep mourning, and he apologized so nicely, -rather confused. - -He is quite a decent-looking person, smart and well-groomed, like -Lord Robert, but not that lovely shape. We talked on for about ten -minutes. I said very little, but he never took his eyes off my face. -All the time I was conscious that Lord Robert was fidgeting and playing -with a china cow that was on a table near, and just before the butler -announced Mrs. Fairfax, he dropped it on the floor, and broke its tail -off. - -Mrs. Fairfax is not pretty; she has reddish gold hair, with brown -roots, and a very dark skin, but it is nicely done--the hair, I mean, -and perhaps the skin too, as sideways you can see the pink sticking -up on it. It must be rather a nuisance to have to do all that, but it -is certainly better than looking like Mary Mackintosh. She doesn’t -balance nicely, bits of her are too long, or too short. I do like to -see everything in the right place--like Lord Robert’s figure. Lady Ver -came in just then, and we all went down to dinner. Mrs. Fairfax gushed -at her a good deal. Lady Ver does not like her much, she told me in the -train, but she was obliged to wire to her to come, as she could not -get any one else Mr. Campion liked, on so short a notice. - -“The kind of woman every one knows, and who has no sort of pride,” she -said. - -Well, even when I am really an adventuress I sha’n’t be like that. - -Dinner was very gay. - -Lady Ver, away from her decorous relations, is most amusing. She says -anything that comes into her head. Mrs. Fairfax got cross because Mr. -Campion would speak to me, but as I did not particularly take to her, -I did not mind, and just amused myself. As the party was so small Lord -Robert and I were obliged to talk a little, and once or twice I forgot, -and let myself be natural and smile at him. His eyebrows went up in -that questioning pathetic way he has, and he looked so attractive--that -made me remember again, and instantly turn away. When we were coming -into the hall, while Lady Ver and Mrs. Fairfax were up putting on their -cloaks, Lord Robert came up close to me, and whispered: - -“I _can’t_ understand you. There is some reason for your treating me -like this, and I will find it out! Why are you so cruel, little wicked -tiger cat!” and he pinched one of my fingers until I could have cried -out. - -That made me so angry. - -“How dare you touch me!” I said. “It is because you know I have no one -to take care of me that you presume like this!” - -I felt my eyes blaze at him, but there was a lump in my throat, I would -not have been hurt, if it had been anyone else--only angry--but he had -been so respectful and gentle with me at Branches--and I had liked him -so much. It seemed more cruel for him to be impertinent now. - -His face fell, indeed, all the fierceness went out of it, and he looked -intensely miserable. - -“Oh! don’t say that!” he said, in a choked voice. “I--oh! that is the -one thing, you know is not true.” - -Mr. Campion, with his fur coat fastened, came up at that moment, saying -gallant things, and insinuations that we must meet again, but I said -good-night quietly, and came up the stairs without a word more to Lord -Robert. - -“Good-night, Evangeline, pet,” Lady Ver said, when I met her on the -drawing-room landing, coming down. “I do feel a wretch leaving you, -but to-morrow I will really try and amuse you. You look very pale, -child--the journey has tried you probably.” - -“Yes, I am tired,” I tried to say in a natural voice, but the end word -shook a little, and Lord Robert was just behind, having run up the -stairs after me, so I fear he must have heard. - -“Miss Travers--please--” he implored, but I walked on up the next -flight, and Lady Ver put her hand on his arm, and drew him down with -her, and as I got up to the fourth floor I heard the front door shut. - -And now they are gone, and I am alone. My tiny room is comfortable, -and the fire is burning brightly. I have a big armchair and books, and -this, my journal, and all is cosy--only I feel so miserable. - -I won’t cry and be a silly coward. - -Why, of course it is amusing to be free. And I am _not_ grieving -over Mrs. Carruthers’ death--only perhaps I am lonely, and I wish -I were at the theatre. No, I don’t--I--oh, the thing I do wish is -that--that--_No_, I won’t write it even. - -Good-night, Journal! - - - - - 300, PARK STREET, - _Wednesday November 23rd._ - - -OH! how silly to want the moon! but that is evidently what is the -matter with me. Here I am in a comfortable house with a kind hostess, -and no immediate want of money, and yet I am restless, and sometimes -unhappy. - -For the four days since I arrived Lady Ver has been so kind to me, -taken the greatest pains to try and amuse me, and cheer me up. We -have driven about in her electric brougham and shopped, and agreeable -people have been to lunch each day, and I have had what I suppose is a -_succès_. At least she says so. - -I am beginning to understand things better, and it seems one must have -no real feelings, just as Mrs. Carruthers always told me, if one wants -to enjoy life. - -On two evenings Lady Ver has been out with numbers of regrets at -leaving me behind, and I have gathered she has seen Lord Robert, but he -has not been here--I am glad to say. - -I am real friends with the angels, who are delightful people, and very -well brought up. Lady Ver evidently knows much better about it than -Mary Mackintosh, although she does not talk in that way. - -I can’t think what I am going to do next. I suppose soon this kind of -drifting will seem quite natural, but at present the position galls -me for some reason. I _hate_ to think people are being kind out of -charity. How very foolish of me, though! - -Lady Merrenden is coming to lunch to-morrow. I am interested to see -her, because Lord Robert said she was such a dear. I wonder what has -become of him, that he has not been here--I wonder. No, I am _too_ -silly. - -Lady Ver does not get up to breakfast, and I go into her room, and have -mine on another little tray, and we talk, and she reads me bits out of -her letters. - -She seems to have a number of people in love with her--that must be -nice. - -“It keeps Charlie always devoted,” she said, “because he realizes he -owns what the other men want.” - -She says, too, that all male creatures are fighters by nature, they -don’t value things they obtain easily, and which are no trouble to -keep. You must always make them realize you will be off like a snipe if -they relax their efforts to please you for one moment. - -Of course there are heaps of humdrum ways of living, where the husband -is quite fond, but it does not make his heart beat, and Lady Ver says -she couldn’t stay on with a man whose heart she couldn’t make beat when -she wanted to. - -I am curious to see Sir Charles. - -They play bridge a good deal in the afternoon, and it amuses me a -little to talk nicely to the man who is out for the moment, and make -him not want to go back to the game. - -I am learning a number of things. - - - - - _Night._ - - -MR. CARRUTHERS came to call this afternoon. He was the last person I -expected to see when I went into the drawing-room after luncheon, to -wait for Lady Ver. I had my outdoor things on, and a big black hat, -which is rather becoming, I am glad to say. - -“You here!” he exclaimed, as we shook hands. - -“Yes, why not?” I said. - -He looked very self-contained, and reserved, I thought, as if he had -not the least intention of letting himself go to display any interest. -It instantly aroused in me an intention to change all that. - -“Lady Verningham kindly asked me to spend a few days with her when we -left Tryland,” I said, demurely. - -“Oh! you are staying here! Well, I was over at Tryland the day before -yesterday--an elaborate invitation from Lady Katherine to ‘dine and -sleep quietly,’ which I only accepted as I thought I should see you.” - -“How good of you,” I said, sweetly. “And did they not tell you I had -gone with Lady Verningham?” - -“Nothing of the kind. They merely announced that you had departed for -London, so I supposed it was your original design of Claridge’s, and I -intended going round there some time to find you.” - -Again I said it was so good of him, and I looked down. - -He did not speak for a second or two, and I remained perfectly still. - -“What are your plans?” he asked abruptly. - -“I have no plans----” - -“But you must have--that is ridiculous--you must have made some -decision as to where you are going to live!” - -“No, I assure you,” I said, calmly, “when I leave here on Saturday, I -shall just get into a cab, and think of some place for it to take me -to, I suppose, as we turn down Park Lane.” - -He moved uneasily, and I glanced at him up from under my hat. I don’t -know why he does not attract me now as much as he did at first. There -is something so cold and cynical about his face. - -“Listen, Evangeline,” he said at last. “Something must be settled for -you--I cannot allow you to drift about like this. I am more or less -your guardian--you know--you must feel that.” - -“I don’t a bit,” I said. - -“You impossible little--witch!” he came closer. - -“Yes, Lady Verningham says I am a witch, and a snake, and all sorts of -bad attractive things, and I want to go somewhere where I shall be able -to show these qualities! England is dull--what do you think of Paris?” - -Oh! it did amuse me, launching forth these remarks. They would never -come into my head for any one else! - -He walked across the room and back. His face was disturbed. - -“You shall not go to Paris--alone. How can you even suggest such a -thing,” he said. - -I did not speak. He grew exasperated. - -“Your father’s people are all dead, you tell me, and you know nothing -of your mother’s relations, but who was she? What was her name? Perhaps -we could discover some kith and kin for you.” - -“My mother was called Miss Tonkins,” I said. - -“_Called_ Miss Tonkins?” - -“Yes.” - -“Then it was not her name--what do you mean?” - -I hated these questions. - -“I suppose it was her name. I never heard she had another.” - -“Tonkins,” he said, “Tonkins?” and he looked searchingly at me, with -his monk of the Inquisition air. - -I can be so irritating not telling people things when I like, and it -was quite a while before he elicited the facts from me, which Mrs. -Carruthers had often hurled at my head in moments of anger, that poor -mamma’s father had been Lord de Brandreth, and her mother Heaven knows -who! - -“So you see”--I ended with--“I haven’t any relations, after all, have -I?” - -He sat down upon the sofa. - -“Evangeline, there is nothing for it, you must marry me,” he said. - -I sat down opposite him. - -“Oh! you are funny!” I said. “You, a clever diplomat, to know so little -of women. Who in the world would accept such an offer!” and I laughed, -and laughed. - -“What am I to do with you!” he exclaimed, angrily. - -“Nothing!” I laughed still, and I looked at him with my “affair of the -devil” look. He came over, and forcibly took my hand. - -“Yes, you are a witch,” he said. “A witch who casts spells, and -destroys resolutions and judgements. I determined to forget you, and -put you out of my life--you are most unsuitable to me, you know, but as -soon as I see you I am filled with only one desire. I _must_ have you -for myself--I want to kiss you--to touch you. I want to prevent any -other man from looking at you--do you hear me, Evangeline?” - -“Yes, I hear,” I said. “But it does not have any effect on me. You -would be awful as a husband. Oh! I know all about them!” and I looked -up. “I saw several sorts at Tryland, and Lady Verningham has told me of -the rest; and I know you would be no earthly good in that _rôle_!” - -He laughed, in spite of himself, but he still held my hand. - -“Describe their types to me, that I may see which I should be,” he -said, with great seriousness. - -“There is the Mackintosh kind--humble and ‘titsy-pootsy,’ and a sort of -under nurse,” I said. - -“That is not my size, I fear.” - -“Then there is the Montgomerie, selfish and bullying, and near about -money----” - -“But I am not Scotch.” - -“No--well, Lord Kestervin was English, and he fussed and worried, and -looked out trains all the time.” - -“I shall have a groom of the chambers.” - -“And they were all casual and indifferent to their poor wives! and -boresome, and bored!! And one told long stories, and one was stodgy, -and one opened his wife’s letters before she was down!” - -“Tell me the attributes of a perfect husband, then, that I may learn -them,” he said. - -“They have to pay all the bills.” - -“Well, I could do that.” - -“And they have not to interfere with one’s movements. And one must be -able to make their hearts beat.” - -“Well, you could do _that_!” and he bent nearer to me. I drew back. - -“And they have to take long journeys to the Rocky Mountains for months -together, with men friends.” - -“Certainly not!” he exclaimed. - -“There, you see!” I said, “the most important part you don’t agree to. -There is no use talking further.” - -“Yes, there is! You have not said half enough--have they to make your -heart beat, too?” - -“You are hurting my hand.” - -He dropped it. - -“Have they?” - -“Lady Ver said no husband could do that--the fact of there being one -kept your heart quite quiet, and often made you yawn--but she said it -was not necessary, as long as you could make theirs, so that they would -do all you asked.” - -“Then do women’s hearts never beat--did she tell you?” - -“Of course they beat! How simple you are for thirty years old. They -beat constantly for--oh--for people who are not husbands.” - -“That is the result of your observations, is it? You are probably -right, and I am a fool.” - -“Some one said at lunch yesterday that a beautiful lady in Paris had -her heart beating for you,” I said, looking at him again. - -He changed--so very little, it was not a start, or a wince even--just -enough for me to know he felt what I said. - -“People are too kind,” he said. “But we have got no nearer the point. -When will you marry me?” - -“I shall marry you--never, Mr. Carruthers,” I said, “unless I get into -an old maid soon, and no one else asks me. Then if you go on your knees -I may put out the tip of my finger, perhaps!” and I moved towards the -door, making him a sweeping and polite curtsey. - -He rushed after me. - -“Evangeline!” he exclaimed, “I am not a violent man as a rule, indeed -I am rather cool, but you would drive any one perfectly mad. Some day -some one will strangle you--Witch!” - -“Then I had better run away to save my neck,” I said, laughing over my -shoulder as I opened the door and ran up the stairs, and I peeped at -him from the landing above. He had come out into the hall. “Good-bye,” -I called, and without waiting to see Lady Ver he tramped down the -stairs and away. - -“Evangeline, what _have_ you been doing?” she asked, when I got into -her room, where her maid was settling her veil before the glass, and -trembling over it--Lady Ver is sometimes fractious with her, worse than -I am with Véronique, far. - -“Evangeline, you look naughtier than ever; confess at once.” - -“I have been as good as gold,” I said. - -“Then why are those two emeralds sparkling so, may one ask?” - -“They are sparkling with conscious virtue,” I said, demurely. - -“You have quarrelled with Mr. Carruthers. Go away, Welby! Stupid woman, -can’t you see it catches my nose?” - -Welby retired meekly (after she is cross Lady Ver sends Welby to the -theatre--Welby adores her). - -“Evangeline, how dare you! I see it all. I gathered bits from Robert. -You have quarrelled with the very man you must marry!” - -“What does Lord Robert know about me?” I said. That made me angry. - -“Nothing; he only said Mr. Carruthers admired you at Branches.” - -“Oh!” - -“He is too attractive, Christopher! he is one of the ‘married women’s -pets,’ as Ada Fairfax says, and has never spoken to a girl before. You -ought to be grateful we have let him look at you!--minx!--instead of -quarrelling, as I can see you have.” She rippled with laughter, while -she pretended to scold me. - -“Surely I may be allowed that chastened diversion,” I said, “I can’t go -to theatres!” - -“Tell me about it,” she commanded, tapping her foot. - -But early in Mrs. Carruthers’ days, I learnt that one is wiser when one -keeps one’s own affairs to oneself--so I fenced a little, and laughed, -and we went out to drive finally, without her being any the wiser. -Going into the Park, we came upon a troop of the 3rd Life Guards, who -had been escorting the King to open something, and there rode Lord -Robert in his beautiful clothes, and a floating plume--he did look so -lovely--and _my_ heart suddenly began to beat; I could feel it, and was -ashamed, and it did not console me greatly to reflect that the emotion -caused by a uniform is not confined to nursemaids. - -Of course, it must have been the uniform, and the black horse--Lord -Robert is nothing to me. But I hate to think that mamma’s mother having -been nobody, I should have inherited these common instincts. - - - - - 300, PARK STREET, - _Thursday, November 24th._ - _Evening_. - - -LADY MERRENDEN is so nice--one of those kind faces that even a tight -fringe in a net does not spoil. She is tall and graceful, past fifty -perhaps, and has an expression of Lord Robert about the eyes. At -luncheon she was sweet to me at once, and did not look as if she -thought I must be bad just because I have red hair, like elderly ladies -do generally. - -I felt I wanted to be good and nice directly. She did not allude to my -desolate position, or say anything without tact, but she asked me to -lunch, as if I had been a queen, and would honour her by accepting. For -some reason I could see Lady Ver did not wish me to go, she made all -sorts of excuses about wanting me herself, but also, for some reason, -Lady Merrenden was determined I should, and finally settled it should -be on Saturday, when Lady Ver is going down to Northumberland to her -father’s, and I am going--where? Alas, as yet I know not. - -When she had gone, Lady Ver said old people without dyed hair or bridge -proclivities were tiresome, and she smoked three cigarettes, one after -the other, as fast as she could. (Welby is going to the theatre again -to-night!) - -I said I thought Lady Merrenden was charming. She snapped my head off, -for the first time, and then there was silence--but presently she began -to talk, and fix herself in a most becoming way on the sofa--we were -in her own sitting-room, a lovely place, all blue silk and French -furniture, and attractive things. She said she had a cold, and must -stay indoors. She had changed immediately into a tea-gown--but I could -not hear any cough. - -“Charlie has just wired he comes back to-night,” she announced at -length. - -“How nice for you!” I sympathized. “You will be able to make his heart -beat!” - -“As a matter of fact it is extremely inconvenient, and I want you to -be nice to him and amuse him, and take his attention off me, like a -pet, Evangeline,” she cooed--and then, “What a lovely afternoon for -November! I wish I could go for a walk in the Park,” she said. - -I felt it would be cruel to tease her further, and so announced my -intention of taking exercise in that way with the angels. - -“Yes, it will do you good, dear child,” she said, brightly, “and I will -rest here, and take care of my cold.” - -“They have asked me to tea in the nursery,” I said, “and I have -accepted.” - -“Jewel of a Snake-girl!” she laughed--she is not thick. - -“Do you know the Torquilstone history?” she said, just as I was going -out of the door. - -I came back--why, I can’t imagine, but it interested me. - -“Robert’s brother--half-brother, I mean--the Duke, is a cripple, you -know, and he is _toqué_ on one point, too--their blue blood. He will -never marry, but he can cut Robert off with almost the bare title if he -displeases him.” - -“Yes,” I said. - -“Torquilstone’s mother was one of the housemaids, the old Duke married -her before he was twenty-one, and she fortunately joined her beery -ancestors a year or so afterwards, and then, much later, he married -Robert’s mother, Lady Ethelrida Fitz Walter--there is sixteen years -between them--Robert and Torquilstone, I mean.” - -“Then what is he _toqué_ about blue blood for, with a _tache_ like -that?” I asked. - -“That is just it. He thinks it is such a disgrace, that even if he were -not a humpback, he says he would never marry to transmit this stain to -the future Torquilstones--and if Robert ever marries anyone without a -pedigree enough to satisfy an Austrian prince, he will disown him, and -leave every _sou_ to charity.” - -“Poor Lord Robert!” I said, but I felt my cheeks burn. - -“Yes, is it not tiresome for him? So, of course, he cannot marry until -his brother’s death; there is almost no one in England suitable.” - -“It is not so sad after all,” I said, “there is always the delicious -_rôle_ of the ‘married woman’s pet’ open to him, isn’t there?” and I -laughed. - -“Little cat!” but she wasn’t angry. - -“I told you I only scratched when I was scratched first,” I said, as I -went out of the room. - -The angels had started for their walk, and Véronique had to come with -me at first to find them. We were walking fast down the path beyond -Stanhope Gate, seeing their blue velvet pelisses in the distance, when -we met Mr. Carruthers. - -He stopped, and turned with me. - -“Evangeline, I was so angry with you yesterday,” he said, “I very -nearly left London, and abandoned you to your fate, but now that I have -seen you again----” he paused. - -“You think Paris is a long way off!” I said innocently. - -“What have they been telling you?” he said, sternly, but he was not -quite comfortable. - -“They have been saying it is a fine November, and the Stock Exchange -is no place to play in, and if it were not for bridge, they would all -commit suicide! That is what we talk of at Park Street.” - -“You know very well what I mean. What have they been telling you about -me?” - -“Nothing, except that there is a charming French lady, who adores you, -and whom you are devoted to--and I am so sympathetic--I like French -women, they put on their hats so nicely.” - -“What ridiculous gossip--I don’t think Park Street is the place for you -to stay. I thought you had more mind than to chatter like this.” - -“I suit myself to my company!” I laughed, and waited for Véronique, -who had stopped respectfully behind--she came up reluctantly. She -disapproves of all English unconventionality, but she feels it her duty -to encourage Mr. Carruthers. - -Should she run on, and stop the young ladies? she suggested, pointing -to the angels in front. - -“Yes, do,” said Mr. Carruthers, and before I could prevent her, she was -off. - -Traitress! She was thinking of her own comfortable quarters at -Branches, I know! - -The sharp, fresh air, got into my head. I felt gay, and without care. -I said heaps of things to Mr. Carruthers, just as I had once before to -Malcolm, only this was much more fun, because Mr. Carruthers isn’t a -red-haired Scotchman, and can see things. - -It seemed a day of meetings, for when we got down to the end, we -encountered Lord Robert, walking leisurely in our direction. He looked -as black as night when he caught sight of us. - -“Hello, Bob!” said Mr. Carruthers, cheerfully. “Ages since I saw -you--will you come and dine to-night? I have a box for this winter -opera that is on, and I am trying to persuade Miss Travers to come. She -says Lady Verningham is not engaged to-night, she knows, and we might -dine quietly, and all go, don’t you think so?” - -Lord Robert said he would, but he added, “Miss Travers would never come -out before; she said she was in too deep mourning.” He seemed aggrieved. - -“I am going to sit in the back of the box, and no one will see me,” I -said, “and I do love music so.” - -“We had better let Lady Verningham know at once then,” said Mr. -Carruthers. - -Lord Robert announced he was going there now, and would tell her. - -I knew that! The blue tea-gown, with the pink roses, and the lace cap, -and the bad cold were not for nothing. (I wish I had not written this, -it is spiteful of me, and I am not spiteful as a rule. It must be the -east wind.) - - - - - _Thursday night, Nov. 24th._ - - -“Now that you have embarked upon this,” Lady Ver said, when I ventured -into her sitting-room, hearing no voices, about six o’clock (Mr. -Carruthers had left me at the door, at the end of our walk, and I had -been with the angels at tea ever since), “Now that you have embarked -upon this opera, I say, you will have to dine at Willis’s with us. I -won’t be in when Charlie arrives from Paris. A windy day, like to-day, -his temper is sure to be impossible.” - -“Very well,” I said. - -Of what use after all for an adventuress like me to have sensitive -feelings. - -“And I am leaving this house at a quarter to seven. I wish you to know, -Evangeline, pet!” she called after me, as I flew off to dress. - -As a rule Lady Ver takes a good hour to make herself into the -attractive darling she is in the evening--she has not to do much, -because she is lovely by nature; but she potters, and squabbles with -Welby, to divert herself, I suppose. - -However, to-night, with the terror upon her of a husband fresh from -a rough Channel passage, going to arrive at seven o’clock, she was -actually dressed and down in the hall when I got there, punctually at -6.45, and in the twinkle of an eye we were rolling in the electric to -Willis’s. I have only been there once before, and that to lunch in Mrs. -Carruthers’ days with some of the Ambassadors, and it does feel gay -going to a restaurant at night. I felt more excited than ever in my -life, and such a situation, too. - -Lord Robert--_fruit défendu!_ and Mr. Carruthers _empressé_, and to be -kept in bounds! - -More than enough to fill the hands of a maiden of sixteen, fresh from a -convent, as old Count Someroff used to say when he wanted to express a -really difficult piece of work. - -They were waiting for us just inside the door, and again I noticed that -they were both lovely creatures, and both exceptionally distinguished -looking. - -Lady Ver nodded to a lot of people before we took our seats in a nice -little corner. She must have an agreeable time with so many friends. -She said something which sounds so true in one of our talks, and I -thought of it then. - -“It is wiser to marry the life you like, because, after a little, the -man doesn’t matter.” She has evidently done that--but I wish it could -be possible to have both--the Man and the Life!--Well! Well! - -One has to sit rather close on those sofas, and as Lord Robert was not -the host, he was put by me. The other two at a right angle to us. - -I felt exquisitely gay--in spite of having an almost high black dress -on, and not even any violets! - -It was dreadfully difficult not to speak nicely to my neighbour, his -directness and simplicity are so engaging, but I did try hard to -concentrate myself on Christopher, and leave him alone--only I don’t -know why--the sense of his being so near me made me feel--I don’t -quite know what. However, I hardly spoke to him, Lady Ver shall never -say I did not play fair, though insensibly even she herself drew me -into a friendly conversation, and then Lord Robert looked like a happy -schoolboy. - -We had a delightful time. - -Mr. Carruthers is a perfect host. He has all the smooth and exquisite -manners of the old diplomats, without their false teeth and things. I -wish I were in love with him--or even I wish something inside me would -only let me feel it was my duty to marry him; but it jumps up at me -every time I want to talk to myself about it, and says “Absolutely -impossible.” - -When it came to starting for the opera, “Mr. Carruthers will take you -in his brougham, Evangeline,” Lady Ver said, “and I will be protected -by Robert. Come along, Robert!” as he hesitated. - -“Oh, I say, Lady Ver!” he said, “I would love to come with you--but -won’t it look rather odd for Miss Evangeline to arrive alone with -Christopher. Consider his character!” - -Lady Ver darted a glance of flame at him, and got into the electric; -while Christopher, without hesitation, handed me into his brougham. -Lord Robert and I were two puppets, a part I do not like playing. - -I was angry altogether. She would not have dared to have left me to -go like this, if I had been any one who mattered. Mr. Carruthers got -in, and tucked his sable rug round me. I never spoke a word for a long -time, and Covent Garden is not far off, I told myself. I I can’t say -why I had a sense of _malaise_. - -There was a strange look in his face, as a great lamp threw alight on -it. “Evangeline,” he said, in a voice I have not yet heard, “when are -you going to finish playing with me--I am growing to love you, you -know.” - -“I am very sorry to hear it,” I said, gently. “I don’t want you to--oh! -please _don’t_!” as he took my hand. “I--I--if you only knew how I -_hate_ being touched!” - -He leant back, and looked at me. There is something which goes to the -head a little about being in a brougham with nice fur rugs, alone with -some one at night. The lights flashing in at the windows, and that -faint scent of a very good cigar. I felt fearfully excited. If it had -been Lord Robert, I believe--well---- - -He leant over very close to me. It seemed in another moment he would -kiss me--and what could I do then--I couldn’t scream, or jump out in -Leicester Square, could I? - -“Why do you call me Evangeline?” I said, by way of putting him off. “I -never said you might.” - -“Foolish child--I shall call you what I please. You drive me mad--I -don’t know what you were born for. Do you always have this effect on -people?” - -“What effect?” I said, to gain time; we had got nearly into Long Acre. - -“An effect that causes one to lose all discretion. I feel I would give -my soul to hold you in my arms.” - -I told him I did not think it was at all nice or respectful of him to -talk so. That I found such love revolting. - -“You tell me in your sane moments I am most unsuitable to you--you try -to keep away from me, and then, when you get close, you begin to talk -this stuff! I think it is an insult!” I said, angry and disdainful. -“When I arouse devotion and tenderness in some one, then I shall -listen, but to you and to this--never!” - -“Go on!” he said. “Even in the dim light you look beautiful when cross.” - -“I am not cross,” I answered. “Only absolutely disgusted.” - -By that time, thank goodness, we had got into the stream of carriages -close to the Opera House. Mr. Carruthers, however, seemed hardly to -notice this. - -“Darling,” he said, “I will try not to annoy you, but you are so -fearfully provoking. I tell you truly, no man would find it easy to -keep cool with you.” - -“Oh! I don’t know what it is being cool or not cool!” I said, wearily. -“I am tired of every one, even as tiny a thing as Malcolm Montgomerie -gets odd like this!” - -He leant back and laughed, and then said angrily, “Impertinence! I will -wring his neck!” - -“Thank heaven we have arrived!” I exclaimed, as we drove under the -portico. I gave a great sigh of relief. - -Really, men are very trying and tiresome, and if I shall always have to -put up with these scenes through having red hair, I almost wish it were -mouse coloured, like Cicely Parker’s. Mrs. Carruthers often said, “You -need not suppose, Evangeline, that you are going to have a quiet life -with your colouring--the only thing one can hope for is that you will -screw on your head.” - -Lady Ver and Lord Robert were already in the hall waiting for us, but -the second I saw them I knew she had been saying something to Lord -Robert, his face so gay and _debonnaire_ all through dinner, now looked -set and stern, and he took not the slightest notice of me as we walked -to the box, the big one next the stage on the pit tier. - -Lady Ver appeared triumphant; her eyes were shining with big blacks in -the middle, and such bright spots of pink in her cheeks, she looked -lovely; and I can’t think why, but I suddenly felt I hated her. It -was horrid of me, for she was so kind, and settled me in the corner -behind the curtain, where I could see and not be seen, rather far back, -while she and Lord Robert were quite in the front. It was “Carmen”--the -opera. I have never seen it before. - -Music has such an effect--every note seems to touch some emotion in me. -I feel wicked, or good, or exalted, or--or---- Oh, some queer feeling -that I don’t know what it is--a kind of electric current down my back, -and as if, as if I would like to love some one, and have them to kiss -me. Oh! it sounds perfectly dreadful what I have written--but I can’t -help it--that is what some music does to me, and I said always I should -tell the truth here. - -From the very beginning note to the end I was feeling--feeling. Oh, -how I understand her--Carmen!--_fruit défendu_ attracted her so--the -beautiful, wicked, fascinating snake. I also wanted to dance, and to -move like that, and I unconsciously quivered perhaps. I was cold as -ice, and fearfully excited. The back of Lord Robert’s beautifully set -head impeded my view at times. How exquisitely groomed he is, and one -could see at a glance _his_ mother had not been a housemaid. I never -have seen anything look so well bred as he does. - -Lady Ver was talking to him in a cooing, low voice, after the first -act, and the second act, and indeed even when the third act had begun. -He seemed much more _empressé_ with her than he generally does. It--it -hurt me--that and the music and the dancing, and Mr. Carruthers -whispering passionate little words at intervals, even though I paid no -attention to them, but altogether I, too, felt a kind of madness. - -Suddenly Lord Robert turned round, and for five seconds looked at me. -His lovely expressive blue eyes, swimming with wrath and reproach, -and--oh, how it hurt me!--contempt! Christopher was leaning over the -back of my chair, quite close, in a devoted attitude. - -Lord Robert did not speak, but if a look could wither, I must have -turned into a dead oak leaf. It awoke some devil in me. What had _I_ -done to be annihilated so! _I_ was playing perfectly fair--keeping my -word to Lady Ver, and oh! I felt as if it were breaking my heart. - -But that look of Lord Robert’s! It drove me to distraction, and every -instinct to be wicked and attractive that I possess came up in me. I -leant over to Lady Ver, so that I must be close to him, and I said -little things to her, never one word to him, but I moved my seat, -making it certain the corner of his eye must catch sight of me, and -I allowed my shoulders to undulate the faintest bit to that Spanish -music. Oh, I can dance as Carmen too! Mrs. Carruthers had me taught -every time we went to Paris, she loved to see it herself. - -I could hear Christopher breathing very quickly. “My God!” he -whispered. “A man would go to hell for you.” - -Lord Robert got up abruptly and went out of the box. - -Then it was as if Don Jose’s dagger plunged into my heart, not -Carmen’s. That sounds high flown, but I mean it--a sudden sick, cold -sensation, as if everything was numb. Lady Ver turned round pettishly -to Christopher. “What on earth is the matter with Robert?” she said. - -“There is a Persian proverb which asserts a devil slips in between two -winds,” said Christopher; “perhaps that is what has happened in this -box to-night.” - -Lady Ver laughed harshly, and I sat there still as death. And all the -time the music and the movement on the stage went on. I am glad she is -murdered in the end, glad----! Only I would like to have seen the blood -gush out. I am fierce--fierce--sometimes. - - - - - 300, PARK STREET, - _Friday morning, Nov. 25th._ - - -I KNOW just the meaning of dust and ashes--for that is what I felt I -had had for breakfast this morning, the day after “Carmen.” - -Lady Ver had given orders she was not to be disturbed, so I did not -go near her, and crept down to the dining-room, quite forgetting the -master of the house had arrived. There he was--a strange, tall, lean -man with fair hair, and sad, cross, brown eyes, and a nose inclined to -pink at the tip--a look of indigestion about him, I feel sure. He was -sitting in front of a “Daily Telegraph” propped up on the tea-pot, and -some cold, untasted sole on his plate. - -I came forward. He looked very surprised. - -“I--I’m Evangeline Travers,” I announced. - -He said “How d’you do” awkwardly; one could see without a notion what -that meant. - -“I’m staying here,” I continued. “Did you not know?” - -“Then won’t you have some breakfast--beastly cold, I fear,” politeness -forced him to utter. “No--Ianthe never writes to me--I had not heard -any news for a fortnight, and I have not seen her yet.” - -Manners have been drummed into me from early youth, so I said politely, -“You only arrived from Paris late last night, did you not?” - -“I got in about seven o’clock, I think,” he replied. - -“We had to leave so early, we were going to the Opera,” I said. - -“A Wagner that begins at unearthly hours, I suppose,” he murmured -absently. - -“No, it was ‘Carmen’--but we dined first with my--my--guardian, Mr. -Carruthers.” - -“Oh.” - -We both ate for a little--the tea was greenish-black--and lukewarm--no -wonder he has dyspepsia. - -“Are the children in, I wonder,” he hazarded, presently. - -“Yes,” I said. “I went to the nursery and saw them as I came down.” - -At that moment the three angels burst into the room, but came forward -decorously, and embraced their parent. They did not seem to adore him -like they do Lady Ver. - -“Good morning, papa,” said the eldest, and the other two repeated it in -chorus. “We hope you have slept well, and had a nice passage across the -sea.” - -They evidently had been drilled outside! - -Then, nature getting uppermost, they patted him patronizingly. - -“Daddie, darling, have you brought us any new dolls from Paris?” - -“And I want one with red hair, like Evangeline,” said Yseult, the -youngest. - -Sir Charles seemed bored and uncomfortable; he kissed his three -exquisite bits of Dresden china, so like, and yet unlike himself--they -have Lady Ver’s complexion, but brown eyes and golden hair like him. - -“Yes, ask Harbottle for the packages,” he said. “I have no time to talk -to you--tell your mother I will be in for lunch,” and making excuse to -me for leaving so abruptly--an appointment in the City--he shuffled out -of the room. - -I wonder how Lady Ver makes his heart beat. I _don’t_ wonder she -prefers--Lord Robert. - -“Why is papa’s nose so red?” said Yseult. - -“Hush!” implored Mildred. “Poor papa has come off the sea.” - -“I don’t love papa,” said Corisande, the middle one. “He’s cross, and -sometimes he makes darling mummie cry.” - -“We must always love papa,” chanted Mildred, in a lesson voice. “We -must always love our parents, and grandmamma, and grandpapa, and aunts -and cousins--Amen.” The “Amen” slipped out unawares, and she looked -confused and corrected herself when she had said it. - -“Let’s find Harbottle. Harbottle is papa’s valet,” Corisande said, “and -he is much thoughtfuller than papa. Last time he brought me a Highland -boy doll, though papa had forgotten I asked for it.” - -They all three went out of the room, first kissing me, and curtseying -sweetly when they got to the door. They are never rude, or -boisterous--the three angels, I love them. - -Left alone, I did feel like a dead fish. The column “London Day by Day” -caught my eye in the “Daily Telegraph,” and I idly glanced down it--not -taking in the sense of the words, until “The Duke of Torquilstone has -arrived at Vavasour House, St. James’s from abroad,” I read. - -Well, what did it matter to me; what did anything matter to me? Lord -Robert had met us in the hall again, as we were coming out of the -Opera; he looked very pale, and he apologized to Lady Ver for his -abrupt departure. He had got a chill, he said, and had gone to have -a glass of brandy, and was all right now, and would we not come to -supper, and various other _empressé_ things, looking at her with the -greatest devotion--I might not have existed. - -She was capricious, as she sometimes is. “No, Robert, I am going home -to bed. I have got a chill too,” she said. - -And the footman announcing the electric at that moment, we flew off, -and left them. Christopher having fastened my sable collar with an air -of possession, which would have irritated me beyond words at another -time, but I felt cold and dead, and utterly numb. - -Lady Ver did not speak a word on the way back, and kissed me frigidly -as she went in to her room--then she called out: - -“I am tired, Snake-girl--don’t think I am cross--good-night!” and so I -crept up to bed. - -To-morrow is Saturday, and my visit ends. After my lunch with Lady -Merrenden I am a wanderer on the face of the earth. - -Where shall I wander to--I feel I want to go away by myself--away -where I shall not see a human being who is English. I want to forget -what they look like--I want to shut out of my sight their well-groomed -heads--I want, oh, I do not know what I do want. - -Shall I marry Mr. Carruthers? He would eat me up, and then go back to -Paris to the lady he loves--but I should have the life I like--and the -Carruthers’ emeralds are beautiful--and I love Branches--and--and---- - -“Her ladyship would like to see you, Miss,” said a footman. - -So I went up the stairs. - -Lady Ver was in a darkened room, soft pink blinds right down beyond the -half-drawn blue silk curtains. - -“I have a fearful head, Evangeline,” she said. - -“Then I will smooth your hair,” and I climbed up beside her, and began -to run over her forehead with the tips of my fingers. - -“You are really a pet, Snake-girl,” she said, “and you can’t help it.” - -“I can’t help what?” - -“Being a witch. I knew you would hurt me, when I first saw you, and I -tried to protect myself by being kind to you.” - -“Oh, dear Lady Ver!” I said, deeply moved. “I would not hurt you for -the world, and indeed, you misjudge me; I have kept the bargain to the -very letter and--spirit.” - -“Yes, I know you have to the letter, at least--but why did Robert go -out of the box last night?” she demanded, wearily. - -“He said he had got a chill, did not he?” I replied, lamely. She -clasped her hands passionately. - -“A chill!!! You don’t know Robert! he never had a chill in his life,” -she said. “Oh, he is the dearest, dearest being in the world. He makes -me believe in good and all things honest. He isn’t vicious, he isn’t a -prig, and he knows the world, and he lives in its ways like the rest of -us, and yet he doesn’t begin by thinking every woman is fair game, and -undermining what little self-respect she may have left to her.” - -“Yes.” I said. I found nothing else to say. - -“If I had had a husband like that I would never have yawned,” she went -on, “and, besides, Robert is too masterful, and would be too jealous to -let one divert oneself with another.” - -“Yes,” I said again, and continued to smooth her forehead. - -“He has sentiment, too--he is not matter-of-fact and brutal--and oh, -you should see him on a horse, he is too, too beautiful!” She stretched -out her arms in a movement of weariness that was pathetic, and touched -me. - -“You have known him a long, long time?” I said, gently. - -“Perhaps five years, but only casually until this season. I was busy -with some one else before. I have played with so many.” Then she -roused herself up. “But Robert is the only one who has never made -love to me. Always dear and sweet and treating me like a queen, as -if I were too high for that, and having his own way, and not caring -a pin for any one’s opinion. And I have wanted him to make love to -me often. But now I realize it is no use. Only you sha’n’t have him, -Snake-girl! I told him as we were going to the Opera you were as cold -as ice, and were playing with Christopher, and I am going to take him -down to Northumberland with me to-morrow out of your way. He shall be -my devoted friend at any rate. You would break his heart, and I shall -still hold you to your promise.” - -I said nothing. - -“Do you hear, I say _you_ would break his heart. He would be only -capable of loving straight to the end. The kind of love any other woman -would die for, but you--you are Carmen.” - -At all events not _she_, nor any other woman, shall ever see what I am, -or am not. My heart is not for them to peck at. So I said, calmly: - -“Carmen was stabbed.” - -“And serve her right! Fascinating, fiendish demon!” Then she laughed, -her mood changing. - -“Did you see Charlie?” she said. - -“We breakfasted together.” - -“Cheerful person, isn’t he?” - -“No,” I said. “He looked cross and ill.” - -“Ill!” she said, with a shade of anxiety. “Oh, you only mean dyspeptic.” - -“Perhaps.” - -“Well, he always does when he comes from Paris. If you could go into -his room, and see the row of photographs on his mantelpiece, you might -guess why.” - -“Pictures of ‘Sole Dieppoise’ and ‘Poulet Victoria aux truffes,’ no -doubt,” I hazarded. - -She doubled up with laughter. “Yes, just that!” she said. “Well, he -adores me in his way, and will bring me a new Cartier ring to make up -for it--you will see at luncheon.” - -“He is a perfect husband, then?” - -“About the same as you will find Christopher. Only Christopher will -start by being an exquisite lover, there is nothing he does not know, -and Charlie has not an idea of that part. Heavens! the dullness of my -honeymoon!” - -“Mrs. Carruthers said all honeymoons were only another parallel to -going to the dentist, or being photographed. Necessary evils to be got -through for the sake of the results.” - -“The results!” - -“Yes; the nice house, and the jewels, and the other things.” - -“Oh! Yes, I suppose she was right, but if one had married Robert one -would have had both.” She did not say both what, but oh! I knew. - -“You think Mr. Carruthers will make a fair husband, then?” I asked. - -“You will never really know Christopher. I have been acquainted with -him for years. You will never feel he would tell you the whole truth -about anything. He is an epicure and an analyst of sensations; I don’t -know if he has any gods, he does not believe in them if he has, he -believes in no one, and nothing, but perhaps himself. He is violently -in love with you for the moment, and he wants to marry you because he -cannot obtain you on any other terms.” - -“You are flattering,” I said, rather hurt. - -“I am truthful. You will probably have a delightful time with him, and -keep him devoted to you for years, because you are not in love with -him, and he will take good care you do not look at any one else. I -can imagine if one were in love with Christopher he would break one’s -heart, as he has broken poor Alicia Verney’s.” - -“Oh, but how silly! people don’t have broken hearts now; you are -talking like out of a book, dear Lady Ver.” - -“There are a few cases of broken hearts, but they are not for book -reasons--of death and tragedy, etc.; they are because we cannot have -what we want, or keep what we have,” and she sighed. - -We did not speak for a few minutes, then she said quite gaily, - -“You have made my head better, your touch is extraordinary; in spite -of all I like you, Snake-girl. You are not found on every gooseberry -bush.” - -We kissed lightly, and I left her and went to my room. - -Yes, the best thing I can do is to marry Christopher; I care for him so -little that the lady in Paris won’t matter to me, even if she is like -Sir Charles’s Poulet à la Victoria aux truffes. He is such a gentleman, -he will at least be kind to me and refined and considerate; and the -Carruthers’ emeralds are divine, and just my stones. I shall have them -reset by Cartier. The lace, too, will suit me, and the sables, and I -shall have the suite that Mrs. Carruthers used at Branches done up with -pale green, and burn all the Early Victorians. And no doubt existence -will be full of triumphs and pleasure. - -But oh! I wish, I wish it were possible to obtain “both.” - - - 300, PARK STREET, - - _Friday night_. - -LUNCHEON passed off very well. Sir Charles returned from the City -improved in temper, and, as Lady Ver had predicted, presented her with -a Cartier jewel. It was a brooch, not a ring, but she was delighted, -and purred to him. - -He was a little late and we were seated, a party of eight, when he -came in. They all chaffed him about Paris, and he took it quite -good-humouredly--he even seemed pleased. He has no wit, but he looks -like a gentleman, and I daresay as husbands go he is suitable. - -I am getting quite at home in the world, and can talk to any one. I -listen and I do not talk much, only when I want to say something that -makes them think. - -A very nice man sat next me to-day, he reminded me of the old generals -at Branches. We had quite a war of wits, and it stimulated me. - -He told me, among other things, when he discovered who I was, that he -had known papa--papa was in the same Guards with him--and that he was -the best-looking man of his day. Numbers of women were in love with -him, he said, but he was a faithless being and rode away. - -“He probably enjoyed himself, don’t you think so? and he had the good -luck to die in his zenith,” I said. - -“He was once engaged to Lady Merrenden, you know. She was Lady Sophia -Vavasour then, and absolutely devoted to him, but Mrs. Carruthers came -between them and carried him off; she was years older than he was, too, -and as clever as paint.” - -“Poor papa seems to have been a weak creature, I fear.” - -“All men are weak,” he said. - -“And then he married and left Mrs. Carruthers, I suppose?” I asked. I -wanted to hear as much as I could. - -“Yes--e--s,” said my old Colonel. “I was best man at the wedding----” - -“And what was she like, my mamma?” - -“She was the loveliest creature I ever saw,” he said; “as lovely as -you, only you are the image of your father, all but the hair, his was -fair.” - -“No one has ever said I was lovely before. Oh! I am so glad if you -think so,” I said. It did please me. I have often been told I am -attractive and extraordinary, and wonderful, and divine--but never just -lovely. He would not say any more about my parents, except they hadn’t -a _sou_ to live on, and were not very happy; Mrs. Carruthers took care -of that. - -Then, as every one was going, he said: “I am awfully glad to have met -you--we must be pals, for the sake of old times,” and he gave me his -card for me to keep his address, and told me if ever I wanted a friend -to send him a line, Colonel Tom Carden, The Albany. - -I promised I would. - -“You might give me away at my wedding,” I said, gaily. “I am thinking -of getting married, some day!” - -“That I will,” he promised, “and, by Jove, the man will be a fortunate -fellow.” - -Lady Ver and I drove after luncheon--we paid some calls, and went in to -tea with the Montgomeries, who had just arrived at Brown’s Hotel for a -week’s shopping. - -“Aunt Katherine brings those poor girls up always at this time, and -takes them to some impossible old dressmaker of her own, in the day, -and to Shakespeare, or a concert, at night, and returns with them -equipped in more hideous garments each year. It is positively cruel,” -said Lady Ver, as we went up the stairs to their _appartement_. - -There they were, sitting round the tea-table, just as at Tryland. -Kirstie and Jean embroidering and knitting, and the other two reading -new catalogues of books for their work!!! - -Lady Ver began to tease them. She asked them all sorts of questions -about their new frocks, and suggested they had better go to Paris, once -in a way. Lady Katherine was like ice. She strongly disapproved of my -being with her niece, one could see. - -The connection with the family, she hoped, would be ended with my visit -to Tryland. Malcolm was arriving in town, too, we gathered, and Lady -Ver left a message to ask him to dine to-night. - -Then we got away. - -“If one of those lumps of suet had a spark of spirit, it would go -straight to the devil,” Lady Ver said, as we went down the stairs. -“Think of it! ties and altar-cloths in London! Mercifully they could -not dine to-night. I had to ask them, and they generally come once -while they are up--the four girls and Aunt Katherine--and it is with -the greatest difficulty I can collect four young men for them if they -get the least hint who they are to meet. I generally secure a couple -of socially budding Jews, because I feel the subscriptions for their -charities, which they will pester whoever they do sit next for, are -better filched from the Hebrew, than from some pretty needy guardsman. -Oh, what a life!” - -She was so kind to me on the way back; she said she hated leaving me -alone on the morrow, and that I must settle now what I was going to -do, or she would not go. I said I would go to Claridge’s where Mrs. -Carruthers and I had always stayed, and remain perfectly quietly alone -with Véronique. I could afford it for a week. So we drove there, and -made the arrangement. - -“It is absolutely impossible for you to go on like this, dear child,” -she said. “You must have a chaperon; you are far too pretty to stay -alone in a hotel. What _can_ I do for you?” - -I felt so horribly uncomfortable, I was really at my wits’ end. Oh! it -is no fun being an adventuress, after all, if you want to keep your -friends of the world as well. - -“Perhaps it won’t matter if I don’t see any one for a few days,” I -said. “I will write to Paris; my old Mademoiselle is married there to -a flourishing poet, I believe; perhaps she would take me as a paying -guest for a little.” - -“That is very visionary--a French poet! horrible, long-haired, frowsy -creature. Impossible! Surely you see how necessary it is for you to -marry Christopher as soon as you can, Evangeline, don’t you?” she said, -and I was obliged to admit there were reasons. - -“The truth is, you can’t be the least eccentric, or unconventional, if -you are good-looking and unmarried,” she continued; “you may snap your -fingers at Society, but if you do, you won’t have a good time, and all -the men will either foolishly champion you, or be impertinent to you.” - -“Oh, I realize it,” I said, and there was a lump in my throat. - -“I shall write to Christopher to-morrow,” she went on, “and thank him -for our outing last night, and I shall say something nice about you, -and your loneliness, and that he, as a kind of relation, may go and -see you on Sunday, as long as he doesn’t make love to you, and he can -take you to the Zoo--don’t see him in your sitting-room. That will give -him just the extra fillip, and he will go, and you will be demure, and -then, by those stimulating lions’ and tigers’ cages, you can plight -your troth. It will be quite respectable. Wire to me at once on Monday, -to Sedgwick, and you must come back to Park Street directly I return on -Thursday, if it is all settled.” - -I thanked her as well as I could. She was quite ingenuous, and quite -sincere. I should be a welcome guest as Christopher’s _fiancée_, and -there was no use my feeling bitter about it--she was quite right. - -As I put my hand on Malcolm’s skinny arm going down to the dining-room, -the only consolation was my fate has not got to be him! I would rather -be anything in the world than married to that! - -I tried to be agreeable to Sir Charles. We were only a party of six. An -old Miss Harpenden, who goes everywhere to play bridge, and Malcolm, -and one of Lady Ver’s young men, and me. Sir Charles is absent, and -brings himself back; he fiddles with the knives and forks, and sprawls -on the table rather, too. He looks at Lady Ver with admiration in his -eyes. It is true then, in the intervals of Paris, I suppose, she can -make his heart beat. - -Malcolm made love to me after dinner. We were left to talk when the -others sat down to bridge in the little drawing-room. - -“I missed you so terribly, Miss Travers,” he said, priggishly, “when -you left us, that I realized I was extremely attracted by you.” - -“No, you don’t say so!” I said, innocently. “Could one believe a thing -like that.” - -“Yes,” he said, earnestly. “You may indeed believe it.” - -“Do not say it so suddenly, then,” I said, turning my head away, so -that he could not see how I was laughing. “You see, to a red-haired -person like me these compliments go to my head.” - -“Oh, I do not want to flurry you,” he said, affably. “I know I have -been a good deal sought after--perhaps on account of my possessions” -(this with arrogant modesty), “but I am willing to lay everything at -your feet if you will marry me.” - -“Everything!” I asked. - -“Yes, everything.” - -“You are too good, Mr. Montgomerie--but what would your mother say?” - -He looked uneasy, and slightly unnerved. - -“My mother, I fear, has old-fashioned notions--but I am sure if you -went to her dressmaker--you--you would look different.” - -“Should you like me to look different then--you wouldn’t recognize me, -you know, if I went to her dressmaker.” - -“I like you just as you are,” he said, with an air of great -condescension. - -“I am overcome,” I said, humbly; “but--but--what is this story I hear -about Miss Angela Grey? A lady, I see in the papers, who dances at--the -Gaiety, is it not? Are you sure she will permit you to make this -declaration without her knowledge?” - -He became petrified. - -“Who has told you about her?” he asked. - -“No one,” I said. “Jean said your father was angry with you on account -of a horse of that name, but I chanced to see it in the list of -attractions at the Gaiety--so I conclude it is not a horse, and if you -are engaged to her, I don’t think it is quite right of you to try and -break my heart.” - -“Oh, Evangeline--Miss Travers”--he spluttered. “I am greatly attached -to you--the other was only a pastime--a--oh! we men you know--young -and--and--run after--have our temptations you know. You must think -nothing about it. I will never see her again, except just finally to -say good-bye. I promise you.” - -“Oh! I could not do a mean thing like that, Mr. Montgomerie,” I said. -“You must not think of behaving so on my account--I am not altogether -heartbroken, you know--in fact I rather think of getting married -myself.” - -He bounded up. - -“Oh! you have deceived me then!” he said, in self-righteous wrath. -“After all I said to you that evening at Tryland, and what you promised -then! Yes, you have grossly deceived me.” - -I could not say I had not listened to a word he had said that -night, and was utterly unconscious of what I had promised. Even his -self-appreciation did not deserve such a blow as this! so I softened my -voice, and natural anger at his words, and said quite gently, - -“Do not be angry. If I have unconsciously given you a wrong -impression, I am sorry, but if one came to talking of deceiving, you -have deceived me about Miss Grey, so do not let us speak further upon -the matter. We are quits. Now, won’t you be friends, as you have always -been”--and I put out my hand, and smiled frankly in his face. The mean -little lines in it relaxed--he pulled himself together and took my -hand, and pressed it warmly. From which I knew there was more in the -affair of Angela Grey than met the eye. - -“Evangeline,” he said. “I shall always love you, but Miss Grey is an -estimable young woman, there is not a word to be said against her moral -character--and I have promised her my hand in marriage--so perhaps we -had better say good-bye.” - -“Good-bye,” I said, “but I consider I have every reason to feel -insulted by your offer, which was not, judging from your subsequent -remarks, worth a moment’s thought!” - -“Oh, but I love you!” he said, and by his face, for the time, this was -probably true. So I did not say any more, and we rose and joined the -bridge players. And I contrived that he should not speak to me again -alone before he said good-night. - -“Did Malcolm propose to you,” Lady Ver asked, as we came up to bed. “I -thought I saw a look in his eye at dinner.” - -I told her he had done it in a kind of way, with a reservation in -favour of Miss Angela Grey. - -“That is too dreadful!” she said. “There is a regular epidemic in some -of the Guards’ regiments just now to marry these poor common things -with high moral characters, and--indifferent feet! but I should have -thought the cuteness of the Scot would have protected Malcolm from -their designs. Poor Aunt Katherine!” - - - CLARIDGE’S, - - _Saturday, Nov. 26th_. - -LADY VER went off early to the station, to catch her train to -Northumberland this morning, and I hardly saw her to say good-bye. She -seemed out of temper too, on getting a note, she did not tell me whom -it was from, or what it was about--only she said immediately after, -that I was not to be stupid. “Do not play with Christopher further,” -she said, “or you will lose him. He will certainly go and see you -to-morrow--he wrote to me this morning in answer to mine of last -night--but he says he won’t go to the Zoo--so you will have to see him -in your sitting-room after all--he will come about four.” - -I did not speak. - -“Evangeline,” she said, “promise me you won’t be a fool----” - -“I--won’t be a fool,” I said. - -Then she kissed me, and was off, and a few moments after I also started -for Claridge’s. - -I have a very nice little suite right up at the top, and if only it -were respectable for me, and I could afford it, I could live here very -comfortably by myself for a long time. - -At a quarter to two I was ringing the bell at 200, Carlton House -Terrace, Lady Merrenden’s House--with a strange feeling of excitement -and interest. Of course it must have been because once she had been -engaged to papa. In the second thoughts take to flash I remembered Lord -Robert’s words when I talked of coming to London alone at Branches; how -he would bring me here, and how she would be kind to me until I could -“hunt round.” - -Oh! it came to me with a sudden stab. He was leaning over Lady Ver in -the northern train by now. - -Such a stately beautiful hall it is--when the doors open--with a fine -staircase going each way, and full of splendid pictures, and the whole -atmosphere pervaded with an air of refinement and calm. - -The footmen are tall, and not too young, and even at this time of the -year have powdered hair. - -Lady Merrenden was upstairs in the small drawing-room, and she rose to -meet me, a book in her hand, when I was announced. - -Her manners are so beautiful in her own home; gracious, and not the -least patronizing. - -“I am so glad to see you,” she said. “I hope you won’t be bored, but I -have not asked any one to meet you--only my nephew, Torquilstone, is -coming--he is a great sufferer, poor fellow, and numbers of faces worry -him, at times.” - -I said I was delighted to see her alone. No look more kind could be -expressed in a human countenance than is expressed in hers. She has -the same exceptional appearance of breeding that Lord Robert has, tiny -ears, and wrists, and head--even dressed as a charwoman, Lady Merrenden -would look like a great lady. - -Very soon we were talking without the least restraint; she did not -speak of people, or of very deep things, but it gave one the impression -of an elevated mind, and a knowledge of books, and wide thoughts. Oh! I -could love her so easily. - -We had been talking for nearly a quarter of an hour--she had -incidentally asked me where I was staying now, and had not seemed -surprised or shocked when I said Claridge’s, and by myself. - -All she said was: “What a lonely little girl! but I daresay it is very -restful sometimes to be by oneself, only you must let your friends come -and see you, won’t you.” - -“I don’t think I have any friends,” I said. “You see I have been out so -little--but if you would come and see me--oh! I should be so grateful.” - -“Then you must count me as one of your rare friends!” she said. - -Nothing could be so rare, or so sweet, as her smile. Fancy papa -throwing over this angel for Mrs. Carruthers!! Men are certainly -unaccountable creatures. - -I said I would be too honoured to have her for a friend--and she took -my hand. - -“You bring back the long ago,” she said. “My name is Evangeline, too. -Sophia Evangeline--and I sometimes think you may have been called so -in remembrance of me.” - -What a strange, powerful factor Love must be! Here these two women, -Mrs. Carruthers and Lady Merrenden--the very opposites of each -other--had evidently both adored papa, and both, according to their -natures, had taken an interest in me, in consequence, the child of -a third woman, who had superseded them both! Papa must have been -extraordinarily fascinating for, to the day of her death, Mrs. -Carruthers had his miniature on her table, with a fresh rose beside -it--his memory the only soft spot, it seemed, in her hard heart. - -And this sweet lady’s eyes melted in tenderness when she spoke of the -long ago--although she does not know me well enough yet to say anything -further. To me papa’s picture is nothing so very wonderful, just a -good-looking young guardsman, with eyes shaped like mine, only gray, -and light curly hair. He must have had “a way with him” as the servants -say. - -At that moment the Duke of Torquilstone came in. Oh, such a sad sight! - -A poor hump-backed man, with a strong face and head, and a soured, -suspicious, cynical expression. He would evidently have been very tall, -but for his deformity, a hump stands out on his back, almost like Mr. -Punch. He can’t be much over forty, but he looks far older, his hair is -quite gray. - -Not a line, or an expression in him reminded me of Lord Robert, I am -glad to say. - -Lady Merrenden introduced us, and Lord Merrenden came in then, too, and -we all went down to luncheon. - -It was a rather small table, so we were all near one another, and could -talk. - -The dining-room is immense. - -“I always have this little table when we are such a small party,” Lady -Merrenden said. “It is more cosy, and one does not feel so isolated.” - -How I agreed with her. - -The Duke looked at me searchingly often, with his shrewd little eyes. -One could not say if it was with approval, or disapproval. - -Lord Merrenden talked about politics, and the questions of the day, he -has a courteous manner, and all their voices are soft and refined. And -nothing could have been more smooth and silent than the service. - -The luncheon was very simple, and very good, but not half the numbers -of rich dishes like at Branches, or Lady Ver’s. - -There was only one bowl of violets on the table, but the bowl was -gold, and a beautiful shape, and the violets nearly as big as pansies. -My eyes wandered to the pictures--Gainsborough’s, and Reynolds’, and -Romney’s--of stately men and women. - -“You met my other nephew, Lord Robert, did you not?” Lady Merrenden -said, presently. “He told me he had gone to Branches, where I believe -you lived.” - -“Yes,” I said, and oh! it is too humiliating to write, I felt my cheeks -get crimson at the mention of Lord Robert’s name. What could she have -thought? Can anything be so young ladylike and ridiculous. - -“He came to the Opera with us the night before last,” I continued. “Mr. -Carruthers had a box, and Lady Verningham and I went with them.” Then -recollecting how odd this must sound in my deep mourning, I added, “I -am so fond of music.” - -“So is Robert,” she said. “I am sure he must have been pleased to meet -a kindred spirit there.” - -Sweet, charming, kind lady! If she only knew what emotions were really -agitating us in that box that night--I fear the actual love of music -was the least of them! - -The Duke, during this conversation, and from the beginning mention -of Lord Robert’s name, never took his eyes off my face--it was -very disconcerting; his look was clearer now, and it was certainly -disapproving. - -We had coffee upstairs, out of such exquisite Dresden cups, and then -Lord Merrenden showed me some miniatures. Finally it happened that the -Duke and I were left alone for a minute looking out of a window on to -the Mall. - -His eyes pierced me through and through--well at all events my nose and -my ears and my wrists are as fine as Lady Merrenden’s--poor mamma’s -odd mother does not show in me on the outside--thank goodness. He did -not say much, only commonplaces about the view. I felt afraid of him, -and rather depressed. I am sure he dislikes me. - -“May I not drive you somewhere?” my kind hostess asked. “Or, if you -have nowhere in particular to go, will you come with me?” - -I said I should be delighted. An ache of loneliness was creeping over -me. I wanted to put off as long as possible getting back to the hotel. -I wanted to distract my thoughts from dwelling upon to-morrow, and what -I was going to say to Christopher. To-morrow that seems the end of the -world. - -She has beautiful horses, Lady Merrenden, and the whole turn-out, -except she herself, is as smart as can be. She really looks a little -frumpish out of doors, and perhaps that is why papa went on to Mrs. -Carruthers. Goodness and dearness like this do not suit male creatures -as well as caprice, it seems. - -She was so good to me, and talked in the nicest way. I quite forgot I -was a homeless wanderer, and arrived at Claridge’s about half past -four in almost good spirits. - -“You won’t forget I am to be one of your friends,” Lady Merrenden said, -as I bid her good-bye. - -“Indeed I won’t,” I replied, and she drove off, smiling at me. - -I do wonder what she will think of my marriage with Christopher. - -Now it is night--I have had a miserable, lonely dinner in my -sitting-room, Véronique has been most gracious and coddling--she feels -Mr. Carruthers in the air, I suppose,--and so I must go to bed. - -Oh! why am I not happy, and why don’t I think this is a delightful and -unusual situation, as I once would have done. I only feel depressed -and miserable, and as if I wished Christopher at the bottom of the -sea. I have told myself how good-looking he is--and how he attracted -me at Branches--but that was before--yes, I may as well write what I -was going to--before Lord Robert arrived. Well, he and Lady Ver are -talking together on a nice sofa by now, I suppose, in a big, well-lit -drawing-room, and--oh!--I wish, I _wish_ I had never made any bargain -with her--perhaps now in that case--ah well---- - - - _Sunday afternoon._ - -No! I can’t bear it. All the morning I have been in a fever, first hot -and then cold. What will it be like. Oh! I shall faint when he kisses -me. And I know he will be dreadful like that, I have seen it in his -eye--he will eat me up. Oh! I am sure I shall hate it. No man has ever -kissed me in my life, and I can’t judge, but I am sure it is frightful, -unless----I feel as if I shall go crazy if I stay here any longer. I -can’t, I can’t stop and wait, and face it. I must have some air first. -There is a misty fog. I would like to go out and get lost in it, and I -_will_ too! Not get lost, perhaps, but go out in it, and alone. I won’t -have even Véronique. I shall go by myself into the Park. It is growing -nearly dark, though only three o’clock. I have got an hour. It looks -mysterious, and will soothe me, and suit my mood, and then, when I -come in again, I shall perhaps be able to bear it bravely, kisses and -all. - - - CLARIDGE’S, - - _Sunday evening, November 27th._ - -I have a great deal to write--and yet it is only a few hours since I -shut up this book, and replaced the key on my bracelet. - -By a quarter past three I was making my way through Grosvenor Square. -Everything was misty and blurred, but not actually a thick fog, or -any chance of being lost. By the time I got into the Park it had -lifted a little. It seemed close and warm, and as I went on I got more -depressed. I have never been out alone before; that in itself seemed -strange, and ought to have amused me. - -The image of Christopher kept floating in front of me, his face seemed -to have the expression of a satyr. Well, at all events, he would never -be able to break my heart like “Alicia Verney’s”--nothing could ever -make me care for him. I tried to think of all the good I was going to -get out of the affair, and how really fond I am of Branches. - -I walked very fast, people loomed at me, and then disappeared in the -mist. It was getting almost dusk, and suddenly I felt tired, and sat -down on a bench. - -I had wandered into a side path where there were no chairs. On the -bench before mine I I saw, as I passed, a tramp huddled up. I wondered -what his thoughts were, and if he felt any more miserable than I did. I -daresay I was crouching in a depressed position too. - -Not many people went by, and every moment it grew darker. In all my -life, even on the days when Mrs. Carruthers taunted me about mamma -being nobody, I have never felt so wretched. Tears kept rising in -my eyes, and I did not even worry to blink them away. Who would see -me--and who in the world would care if they did see. - -Suddenly I was conscious that a very perfect figure was coming out of -the mist towards me, but not until he was close to me, and stopping -with a start peered into my face, did I recognize it was Lord Robert. - -“Evangeline!” he exclaimed, in a voice of consternation. “I--what, oh, -what is the matter?” - -No wonder he was surprised. Why he had not taken me for some tramp too, -and passed on, I don’t know. - -“Nothing,” I said, as well as I could, and tried to tilt my hat over my -eyes. I had no veil on unfortunately. - -“I have just been for a walk. Why do you call me Evangeline, and why -are you not in Northumberland?” - -He looked so tall and beautiful, and his face had no expression of -contempt or anger now, only distress and sympathy. - -“I was suddenly put on guard yesterday, and could not get leave,” he -said, not answering the first part. “But, oh, I can’t bear to see you -sitting here alone, and looking so, so miserable. Mayn’t I take you -home? You will catch cold in the damp.” - -“Oh no, not yet. I won’t go back yet!” I said, hardly realizing what -I was saying. He sat down beside me, and slipped his hand into my -muff, pressing my clasped fingers--the gentlest, friendliest caress, -a child might have made in sympathy. It touched some foolish chord in -my nature, some want of self-control inherited from mamma’s ordinary -mother, I suppose, anyway the tears poured down my face--I could not -help it. Oh, the shame of it! to sit crying in the Park, in front of -Lord Robert, of all people in the world, too! - -“Dear, dear little girl,” he said. “Tell me about it,” and he held my -hand in my muff with his strong warm hand. - -“I--I have nothing to tell,” I said, choking down a sob. “I am ashamed -for you to see me like this, only--I am feeling so very miserable.” - -“Dear child,” he said. “Well, you are not to be--I won’t have it. Has -some one been unkind to you--tell me, tell me,” his voice was trembling -with distress. - -“It’s--it’s nothing,” I mumbled. - -I dared not look at him, I knew his eyebrows would be up in that way -that attracts me so dreadfully. - -“Listen,” he whispered almost, and bent over me. “I want you to be -friends with me so that I can help you. I want you to go back to the -time we packed your books together. God knows what has come between -us since--it is not of my doing--but I want to take care of you, dear -little girl to-day. It--oh, it hurts me so to see you crying here.” - -“I--would like to be friends,” I said. “I never wanted to be anything -else, but I could not help it--and I can’t now.” - -“Won’t you tell me the reason?” he pleaded. “You have made me so -dreadfully unhappy about it. I thought all sorts of things. You know I -am a jealous beast.” - -There can’t in the world be another voice as engaging as Lord Robert’s, -and he has a trick of pronouncing words that is too attractive, and -the way his mouth goes when he is speaking, showing his perfectly -chiselled lips under the little moustache! There is no use pretending! -I was sitting there on the bench going through thrills of emotion, and -longing for him to take me in his arms. It is too frightful to think -of! I must be bad after all. - -“Now you are going to tell me everything about it,” he commanded. “To -begin with, what made you suddenly change at Tryland after the first -afternoon, and then what is it that makes you so unhappy now?” - -“I can’t tell you either,” I said very low. I hoped the common -grandmother would not take me as far as doing mean tricks to Lady Ver! - -“Oh, you have made me wild!” he exclaimed, letting go my hand, and -leaning both elbows on his knees, while he pushed his hat to the back -of his head. “Perfectly mad with fury and jealousy. That brute Malcolm! -and then looking at Campion at dinner, and worst of all, Christopher in -the box at ‘Carmen!’ Wicked, naughty little thing! And yet underneath -I have a feeling it is for some absurd reason, and not for sheer -devilment. If I thought that, I would soon get not to care. I did think -it at ‘Carmen.’” - -“Yes, I know,” I said. - -“You know what?” he looked up, startled; then he took my hand again, -and sat close to me. - -“Oh, please, please don’t, Lord Robert!” I said. - -It really made me quiver so with the loveliest feeling I have ever -known, that I knew I should never be able to keep my head if he went on. - -“Please, please, don’t hold my hand,” I said. “It--it makes me not able -to behave nicely.” - -“Darling,” he whispered, “then it shows that you like me, and I sha’n’t -let go until you tell me every little bit.” - -“Oh, I can’t, I can’t!” I felt too tortured, and yet waves of joy were -rushing over me. That _is_ a word, “darling,” for giving feelings down -the back! - -“Evangeline,” he said, quite sternly, “will you answer this question -then--do you like me, or do you hate me? Because, as you must know very -well, I love you.” - -Oh, the wild joy of hearing him say that! What in the world did -anything else matter! For a moment there was a singing in my ears, and -I forgot everything but our two selves. Then the picture of Christopher -waiting for me, with his cold, cynic’s face and eyes blazing with -passion, rushed into my vision, and the Duke’s critical, suspicious, -disapproving scrutiny, and I felt as if a cry of pain, like a wounded -animal, escaped me. - -“Darling, darling, what is it? Did I hurt your dear little hand?” Lord -Robert exclaimed tenderly. - -“No,” I whispered, brokenly; “but I cannot listen to you. I am going -back to Claridge’s now, and I am going to marry Mr. Carruthers.” - -He dropped my hand as if it stung him. - -“Good God! Then it is true,” was all he said. - -In fear I glanced at him--his face looked gray in the quickly gathering -mist. - -“Oh, Robert!” I said in anguish, unable to help myself. “It isn’t -because I want to. I--I--oh! probably I love you--but I must, there is -nothing else to be done.” - -“Isn’t there!” he said, all the life and joy coming back to his face. -“Do you think I will let Christopher, or any other man in the world, -have you now you have confessed that!!” and fortunately there was no -one in sight--because he put his arms round my neck, and drew me close, -and kissed my lips. - -Oh, what nonsense people talk of heaven! sitting on clouds and singing -psalms and things like that! There can’t be any heaven half so lovely -as being kissed by Robert--I felt quite giddy with happiness for -several exquisite seconds, then I woke up. It was all absolutely -impossible, I knew, and I must keep my head. - -“Now you belong to me,” he said, letting his arm slip down to my waist; -“so you must begin at the beginning, and tell me everything.” - -“No, no,” I said, struggling feebly to free myself, and feeling so glad -he held me tight! “It is impossible all the same, and that only makes -it harder. Christopher is coming to see me at four, and I promised Lady -Ver I would not be a fool, and would marry him.” - -“A fig for Lady Ver,” he said, calmly, “if that is all; you leave her -to me--she never argues with me!” - -“It is not only that--I--I promised I would never play with you----” - -“And you certainly never shall,” he said, and I could see a look in his -eye as he purposely misconstrued my words, and then he deliberately -kissed me again. Oh! I like it better than anything else in the world! -How could any one keep their head with Robert quite close, making love -like that? - -“You certainly never--never--shall,” he said again, with a kiss between -each word. “I will take care of that! Your time of playing with people -is over, Mademoiselle! When you are married to me, I shall fight with -any one who dares to look at you!” - -“But I shall never be married to you, Robert,” I said, though, as -I could only be happy for such a few moments, I did not think it -necessary to move away out of his arms. How thankful I was to the fog! -and no one passing! I shall always adore fogs. - -“Yes, you will,” he announced, with perfect certainty; “in about -a fortnight, I should think. I can’t and won’t have you staying at -Claridge’s by yourself. I shall take you back this afternoon to Aunt -Sophia. Only all that we can settle presently. Now, for the moment, I -want you to tell me you love me, and that you are sorry for being such -a little brute all this time.” - -“I did not know it until just now--but I think--I probably do love -you--Robert!” I said. - -He was holding my hand in my muff again, the other arm round my waist. -Absolutely disgraceful behaviour in the Park; we might have been Susan -Jane and Thomas Augustus, and yet I was perfectly happy, and felt it -was the only natural way to sit. - -A figure appeared in the distance--we started apart. - -“Oh! really, really,” I gasped, “we--you--must be different.” - -He leant back and laughed. - -“You sweet darling! Well, come, we will go for a drive in a hansom--we -will choose one without a light inside. Albert Gate is quite close, -come!” and he rose, and taking my arm, not offering his to me, like in -books, he drew me on down the path. - -I am sure any one would be terribly shocked to read what I have -written, but not so much if they knew Robert, and how utterly adorable -he is. And how masterful, and simple, and direct! He does not split -straws, or bandy words. I had made the admission that I loved him, and -that was enough to go upon! - -As we walked alone I tried to tell him it was impossible, that I -must go back to Christopher, that Lady Ver would think I had broken -my word about it. I did not, of course, tell him of her bargain with -me over him, but he probably guessed that, because before we got -into the hansom even, he had begun to put me through a searching -cross-examination as to the reasons for my behaviour at Tryland, and -Park Street, and the Opera. I felt like a child with a strong man, and -every moment more idiotically happy, and in love with him. - -He told the cabman to drive to Hammersmith, and then put his arm round -my waist again, and held my hand, pulling my glove off backwards first. -It is a great big granny muff of sable I have, Mrs. Carruthers’ present -on my last birthday. I never thought then to what charming use it would -be put! - -“Now I think we have demolished all your silly little reasons for -making me miserable,” he said. “What others have you to bring forward -as to why you can’t marry me in a fortnight?” - -I was silent--I did not know how to say it--the principal reason of all. - -“Evangeline--darling,” he pleaded. “Oh, why will you make us both -unhappy--tell me at least.” - -“Your brother, the Duke,” I said, very low. “He will never consent to -your marrying a person like me with no relations.” - -He was silent for a second,--then, “My brother is an awfully good -fellow,” he said, “but his mind is warped by his infirmity. You must -not think hardly of him--he will love you directly he sees you, like -everyone else.” - -“I saw him yesterday,” I said. - -Robert was so astonished. - -“Where did you see him?” he asked. - -Then I told him about meeting Lady Merrenden, and her asking me to -luncheon, and about her having been in love with papa, and about the -Duke having looked me through and through with an expression of dislike. - -“Oh, I see it all!” said Robert, holding me closer. “Aunt Sophia and -I are great friends, you know, she has always been like my mother, -who died when I was a baby. I told her all about you when I came from -Branches, and how I had fallen deeply in love with you at first sight, -and that she must help me to see you at Tryland; and she did, and then -I thought you had grown to dislike me, so when I came back she guessed -I was unhappy about something, and this is her first step to find out -how she can do me a good turn--oh! she is a dear!” - -“Yes, indeed she is,” I said. - -“Of course she is extra interested in you if she was in love with your -father! So that is all right, darling, she must know all about your -family, and can tell Torquilstone. Why, we have nothing to fear!” - -“Oh yes we have!” I said. “I know all the story of what your brother -is _toqué_ about. Lady Ver told me. You see the awkward part is, mamma -was really nobody, her father and mother forgot to get married, and -although mamma was lovely, and had been beautifully brought up by two -old ladies at Brighton, it was a disgrace for papa marrying her--Mrs. -Carruthers has often taunted me with this!” - -“Darling!” he interrupted, and began to kiss me again, and that gave me -such feelings I could not collect my thoughts to go on with what I was -saying for a few minutes. We both were rather silly--if it is silly to -be madly, wildly happy,--and oblivious of every thing else. - -“I will go straight to Aunt Sophia now, when I take you back to -Claridge’s,” he said, presently, when we had got a little calmer. - -I wonder what kisses do that they make one have that perfectly lovely -sensation down the back, just like certain music does, only much, much -more so. I thought they would be dreadful things when it was a question -of Christopher, but Robert! Oh well, as I said before, I can’t think of -any other heaven. - -“What time is it?” I had sense enough to ask presently. - -He lit a match, and looked at his watch. - -“Ten minutes past five,” he exclaimed. - -“And Christopher was coming about four,” I said, “and if you had not -chanced to meet me in the Park, by now I should have been engaged to -him, and probably trying to bear his kissing me.” - -“My God!” said Robert, fiercely, “it makes me rave to think of it,” and -he held me so tight for a moment, I could hardly breathe. - -“You won’t have anyone else’s kisses ever again, in this world, and -that I tell you,” he said, through his teeth. - -“I--I don’t want them,” I whispered, creeping closer to him; “and I -never have had any, never any one but you, Robert.” - -“Darling,” he said, “how that pleases me!” - -Of course, if I wanted to, I could go on writing pages and pages of -all the lovely things we said to one another, but it would sound, -even to read to myself, such nonsense, that I can’t, and I couldn’t -make the tone of Robert’s voice, or the exquisite fascination of his -ways--tender, and adoring, and masterful. It must all stay in my heart; -but oh! it is as if a fairy with a wand had passed, and said “bloom” to -a winter tree. Numbers of emotions that I had never dreamed about were -surging through me--the flood-gates of everything in my soul seemed -opening in one rush of love and joy. While we were together, nothing -appeared to matter--all barriers melted away. - -Fate would be sure to be kind to lovers like us! - -We got back to Claridge’s about six, and Robert would not let me go up -to my sitting-room, until he had found out if Christopher had gone. - -Yes, he had come at four, we discovered, and had waited twenty minutes, -and then left, saying he would come again at half-past six. - -“Then you will write him a note, and give it to the porter for him, -saying you are engaged to me, and can’t see him,” Robert said. - -“No, I can’t do that--I am not engaged to you, and cannot be until your -family consent, and are nice to me,” I said. - -“Darling,” he faltered, and his voice trembled with emotion, “darling, -love is between you and me, it is our lives--however that can go, the -ways of my family, nothing shall ever separate you from me, or me from -you, I swear it. Write to Christopher.” - -I sat down at a table in the hall and wrote, - - “DEAR MR. CARRUTHERS,--I am sorry I was out,” then I bit the end of my - pen. “Don’t come and see me this evening. I will tell you why in a day - or two. - - “Yours sincerely, - “EVANGELINE TRAVERS.” - -“Will that do?” I said, and I handed it to Robert, while I addressed -the envelope. - -“Yes,” he said, and waited while I sealed it up, and gave it to the -porter. Then, with a surreptitious squeeze of the hand, he left me to -go to Lady Merrenden. - -I have come up to my little sitting-room a changed being. The whole -world revolves for me upon another axis, and all within the space of -three short hours. - - - CLARIDGE’S, - - _Sunday night, Nov. 27th._ - -LATE this evening, about eight o’clock, when I had re-locked my -journal, I got a note from Robert. I was just going to begin my dinner. - -I tore it open, inside was another, I did not wait to look from whom, I -was too eager to read his. I paste it in. - - “CARLTON HOUSE TERRACE. - - “MY DARLING,--I have had a long talk with Aunt Sophia, and she is - everything that is sweet and kind, but she fears Torquilstone will be - a little difficult (_I don’t care, nothing_ shall separate us now). - She asks me not to go and see you again to-night, as she thinks it - would be better for you that I should not go to the Hotel so late. - Darling, read her note, and you will she how nice she is. I shall come - round to-morrow, the moment the beastly stables are finished, about - 12 o’clock. Oh! take care of yourself! What a difference to-night - and last night! I was feeling horribly miserable and reckless--and - to-night! Well, you can guess! I am not half good enough for you, - darling, beautiful Queen--but I think I shall know how to make you - happy. I love you! - - “Good night my own, - - “ROBERT.” - -“Do please send me a tiny line by my servant--I have told him to wait.” - -I have never had a love letter before. What lovely things they are! I -felt thrills of delight over bits of it! Of course I see now that I -must have been dreadfully in love with Robert all along, only I did -not know it quite! I fell into a kind of blissful dream, and then I -roused myself up to read Lady Merrenden’s. I sha’n’t put hers in too, -it fills up too much, and I can’t shut the clasp of my journal--it is -a perfectly sweet little letter, just saying Robert had told her the -news, and that she was prepared to welcome me as her dearest niece, -and to do all she could for us. She hoped I would not think her very -tiresome and old fashioned suggesting Robert had better not see me -again to-night, and if it would not inconvenience me, she would herself -come round to-morrow morning, and discuss what was best to be done. - -Véronique said Lord Robert’s valet was waiting outside the door, so -I flew to my table, and began to write. My hand trembled so I made -a blot, and had to tear that sheet up, then I wrote another. Just -a little word. I was frightened, I couldn’t say loving things in a -letter, I had not even spoken many to him--yet. - -“I loved your note,” I began, “and I think Lady Merrenden is quite -right. I will be here at twelve, and very pleased to see you.” I wanted -to say I loved him, and thought twelve o’clock a long way off, but of -course one could not write such things as that--so I ended with just -“Love from EVANGELINE.” - -Then I read it over, and it did sound “missish” and silly--however, -with the man waiting there in the passage, and Véronique fussing in and -out of my bedroom, besides the waiters bringing up my dinner, I could -not go tearing up sheets, and writing others, it looked so flurried, so -it was put into an envelope. Then, in one of the seconds I was alone, -I nipped off a violet from a bunch on the table, and pushed it in too. -I wonder if he will think it sentimental of me! When I had written -the name, I had not an idea where to address it. His was written from -Carlton House Terrace, but he was evidently not there now, as his -servant had brought it. I felt so nervous and excited, it was too -ridiculous--I am very calm as a rule. I called the man, and asked him -where was his lordship now? I did not like to say I was ignorant of -where he lived. - -“His lordship is at Vavasour House, Madame,” he said, respectfully, -but with the faintest shade of surprise that I should not know. “His -lordship dines at home this evening with his grace.” - -I scribbled a note to Lady Merrenden--I would be delighted to see her -in the morning at whatever time suited her. I would not go out at all, -and I thanked her. It was much easier to write sweet things to her than -to Robert. - -When I was alone I could not eat. Véronique came in to try and persuade -me. I looked so very pale, she said, she feared I had taken cold. She -was in one of her “old mother” moods, when she drops the third person -sometimes, and calls me “_mon enfant_.” - -“Oh, Véronique, I have not got a cold, I am only wildly happy!” I said. - -“Mademoiselle is doubtless _fiancée_ to Mr. Carruthers. _Oh! mon enfant -adorée_,” she cried, “_que je suis contente!_” - -“Gracious no!” I exclaimed. This brought me back to Christopher with a -start. What would he say when he heard? - -“No, Véronique, to some one much nicer--Lord Robert Vavasour.” - -Véronique was frightfully interested--Mr. Carruthers she would -have preferred for me she admitted, as being more solid--more -_rangé_--_plus à la fin de ses bêtises_, but, no doubt, “Milor” was -charming too, and for certain one day Mademoiselle would be Duchesse. -In the meanwhile what kind of coronet would Mademoiselle have on her -trousseau? - -I was obliged to explain that I should not have any--or any trousseau -for an indefinite time, as nothing was settled yet. This damped her a -little. - -“_Un frère de Duc, et pas de couronne!_” After seven years in England -she was yet unable to understand these strange habitudes, she said. - -She insisted upon putting me to bed directly after dinner--“to be -prettier for Milor _demain_!” and then, when she had tucked me up, -and was turning out the light in the centre of the room she looked -back--“Mademoiselle is too beautiful like that,” she said, as if it -slipped from her--“_Mon Dieu! il ne s’embêterai pas, le Monsieur!_” - - CLARIDGE’S, - - _Monday morning_. - -I WONDER how I lived before I met Robert. I wonder what use were the -days. Oh! and I wonder, I wonder if the Duke continues to be obdurate -about me if I shall ever have the strength of mind to part from him so -as not to spoil his future. - -Such a short time ago--not yet four weeks--since I was still at -Branches, and wondering what made the clock go round--the great big -clock of life. - -Oh, now I know! It is being in love--frightfully in love like we are. -I must try to keep my head though, and remember all the remarks of -Lady Ver about things and men. Fighters all of them, and they must -never feel quite sure. It will be dreadfully difficult to tease Robert, -because he is so direct and simple; but I must try I suppose. Perhaps -being so very pretty as I am, and having all the male creatures looking -at me with interest will do, and be enough to keep him worried, and I -won’t have to be tiresome myself. I hope so, because I really do love -him so extremely, I would like to let myself go and be as sweet as I -want to. - -I am doing all the things I thought perfectly silly to hear of before. -I kissed his letter, and slept with it on the pillow beside me, and -this morning woke at six and turned on the electric light to read it -again! The part where the “Darling” comes is quite blurry I see in -daylight; that is where I kissed most I know! - -I seem to be numb to everything else. Whether Lady Ver is angry or not -does not bother me. I did play fair. She could not expect me to go on -pretending when Robert had said straight out he loved me. But I am sure -she will be angry, though, and probably rather spiteful about it. - -I will write her the simple truth in a day or two, when we see how -things go. She will guess by Robert not going to Sedgwick. - - - CLARIDGE’S, - - _Monday afternoon_. - -AT half past eleven this morning Lady Merrenden came, and the room -was all full of flowers that Robert had sent--bunches and bunches of -violets and gardenias. She kissed me, and held me tight for a moment, -and we did not speak. Then she said in a voice that trembled a little, - -“Robert is so very dear to me--almost my own child --that I want him to -be happy, and you, too, Evangeline--I may call you that, may not I?” - -I squeezed her hand. - -“You are the echo of my youth, when 1, too, knew the wild springtime -of love. So dear, I need not tell you that you may count upon my doing -what I can for you both.” - -Then we talked and talked. - -“I must admit,” she said at last, “I was prejudiced in your favour -for your dear father’s sake, but in any case my opinion of Robert’s -judgement is so high, I would have been prepared to find you charming -even without that. He has the rarest qualities, he is the truest, most -untarnished soul in this world.” - -“I don’t say,” she went on, “that he is not just as the other young men -of his age and class; he is no Galahad, as no one can be with truth who -is human and lives in the world. And I daresay kind friends will tell -you stories of actresses and other diversions, but I who know him, tell -you you have won the best and greatest darling in London.” - -“Oh, I am sure of it!” I said. “I don’t know why he loves me so much, -he has seen me so little; but it began from the very first minute I -think with both of us. He is such a nice shape!” - -She laughed. Then she asked me if she was right in supposing all these -_contretemps_ we had had were the doing of Lady Ver. “You need not -answer, dear,” she said. “I know Ianthe--she is in love with Robert -herself, she can’t help it; she means no harm, but she often gets these -attacks, and they pass off. I think she is devoted to Sir Charles -really.” - -“Y-e-s,” I said. - -“It is a queer world we live in, child,” she continued, “and true love -and suitability of character are such a rare combination, but, from -what I can judge, you and Robert possess them.” - -“Oh, how dear of you to say so!” I exclaimed. “You don’t think I _must_ -be bad, then, because of my colouring?” - -“What a ridiculous idea, you sweet child!” she laughed. “Who has told -you that?” - -“Oh! Mrs. Carruthers always said so--and--and--the old gentlemen, -and--even Mr. Carruthers hinted I probably had some odd qualities. But -you do think I shall be able to be fairly good, don’t you?” - -She was amused I could see, but I was serious. - -“I think you probably might have been a little wicked if you had -married a man like Mr. Carruthers,” she said, smiling; “but with Robert -I am sure you will be good. He will never leave you a moment, and he -will love you so much you won’t have time for anything else.” - -“Oh! that is what I shall like--being loved,” I said. - -“I think all women like that,” she sighed. “We could all of us be good -if the person we love went on being demonstrative. It is the cold -matter-of-fact devotion that kills love, and makes one want to look -elsewhere to find it again.” - -Then we talked of possibilities about the Duke. I told her I knew -his _toquade_, and she, of course, was fully acquainted with mamma’s -history. - -“I must tell you, dear, I fear he will be difficult,” she said. “He -is a strangely prejudiced person, and obstinate to a degree, and he -worships Robert, as we all do.” - -I would not ask her if the Duke had taken a dislike to me, because I -_knew_ he had. - -“I asked you to meet him on Saturday on purpose,” she continued. “I -felt sure your charm would impress him, as it had done me, and as it -did my husband--but I wonder now if it would have been better to wait. -He said, after you were gone, that you were much too beautiful for the -peace of any family, and he pitied Mr. Carruthers if he married you! -I don’t mean to hurt you, child. I am only telling you everything, so -that we may consult how best to act.” - -“Yes, I know,” I said, and I squeezed her hand again; she does not put -out claws like Lady Ver. - -“How did he know anything about Mr. Carruthers?” I asked, “or me--or -anything?” - -She looked ashamed. - -“One can never tell how he hears things. He was intensely interested to -meet you, and seemed to be acquainted with more of the affair than I -am. I almost fear he must obtain his information from the servants.” - -“Oh, does not that show the housemaid in him! Poor fellow!” I said, -“He can’t help it, then, any more than I could help crying yesterday -before Robert in the Park. Of course we would neither of us have done -these things if it were not for the _tache_ in our backgrounds, only, -fortunately for me, mine wasn’t a housemaid, and was one generation -further back, so I would not be likely to have any of those tricks.” - -She leant back in her chair and laughed. “You quaint, quaint child, -Evangeline,” she said. - -Just then it was twelve o’clock and Robert came in. - -Oh! talk of hearts beating. If mine is going to go on jumping like this -every time Robert enters a room, I shall get a disease in it in less -than a year. - -He looked too intensely attractive; he was not in London clothes, just -serge things and a Guard’s tie, and his face was beaming, and his eyes -shining like blue stars. - -We behaved nicely; he only kissed my hand, and Lady Merrenden looked -away at the clock even for that! She has tact! - -“Isn’t my Evangeline a darling, Aunt Sophia? he said. “And don’t you -love her red hair?” - -“It is beautiful,” said Lady Merrenden. - -“When you leave us alone I am going to pull it all down,” and he -whispered, “darling, I love you,” so close, that his lips touched my -ear, while he pretended he was not doing anything! I say again, Robert -has ways which would charm a stone image. - -“How was Torquilstone last night?” Lady Merrenden asked. “And did you -tell him anything?” - -“Not a word,” said Robert. “I wanted to wait and consult you both which -would be best. Shall I go to him at once, or shall he be made to meet -my Evangeline again and let her fascinate him, as she is bound to do, -and then tell him?” - -“Oh, tell him straight!” I exclaimed, remembering his proclivities -about the servants, and that Véronique knows. “Then he cannot ever say -we have deceived him.” - -“That is how I feel,” said Robert. - -“You take Evangeline to lunch, Aunt Sophia, and I will go back and feed -with him and tell him, and then come to you after.” - -“Yes, that will be best,” she said, and it was settled that she should -come in again and fetch me in an hour, when Robert should leave to go -to Vavasour House. He went with her to the lift, and then he came back. - -No--even in this locked book I am not going to write of that hour--it -was too divine. If I had thought just sitting in the Park was heaven, I -now know there are degrees of heaven, and that Robert is teaching me up -towards the seventh. - - _Monday afternoon (continued)._ - -I FORGOT to say a note came from Christopher by this morning’s -post--it made me laugh when I read it, then it went out of my head, -but when Lady Merrenden returned for me, and we were more or less sane -again--Robert and I--I thought of it; so apparently did he. - -“Did you by chance hear from Christopher whether he got your note last -night or no?” he said. - -I went and fetched it from my bedroom when I put on my hat. Robert read -it aloud: - - “TRAVELLERS’ CLUB, - - “_Sunday night_. - -“_Souvent femme varie, fol qui se fie!_” - -Hope you found your variation worth while. - - “C. C.” - -“What dam cheek!” he said in his old way; he hasn’t used any “ornaments -to conversation” since we have been--oh! I want to say it--engaged! - -Then his eyes flashed. “Christopher had better be careful of himself. -He will have to be answerable to me now!” - -“Do be prudent, Evangeline, dear!” Lady Merrenden said gaily, “or you -will have Robert breaking the head of every man in the street who even -glances at you! He is frantically jealous!” - -“Yes, I know I am,” said Robert, rearranging the tie on my blouse with -that air of _sans gêne_ and possession that pleases me so. - -I belong to him now, and if my tie isn’t as he likes, he has a perfect -right to re-tie it! No matter who is there! That is his attitude, not -the _least_ ceremony or stuff, everything perfectly simple and natural! - -It does make things agreeable. When I was “Miss Travers” and he “Lord -Robert,” he was always respectful and unfamiliar--except that one night -when rage made him pinch my finger! but now that I am _his_ Evangeline, -and he is _my_ Robert (thus he explained it to me in our Paradise hour) -I am his queen and his darling--but at the same time his possession and -belonging, just the same as his watch or his coat. I adore it, and it -does not make me the least “uppish,” as one might have thought. - -“Come, come, children!” Lady Merrenden said at last, “we shall all be -late!” - -So we started, dropping Robert at Vavasour House on our way. It is a -splendid place, down one of those side streets looking on the Green -Park, and has a small garden that side. I had never been down to the -little square where it is before, but, of course, every one can see its -splendid frontage from St. James’s Park, though I had never realized it -was Vavasour House. - -“Good luck!” whispered Lady Merrenden as Robert got out, and then we -drove on. - -Several people were lunching at Carlton House Terrace, Cabinet -Ministers, and a clever novelist, and the great portrait painter, -besides two or three charming women, one as pretty and smart as Lady -Ver, but the others more ordinary looking, only so well mannered. No -real frumps like the Montgomeries. We had a delightful lunch, and I -tried to talk nicely, and do my best to please my dear hostess. When -they had all left I think we both began to feel excited, and long -apprehensively for the arrival of Robert. So we talked of the late -guests. - -“It amuses my husband to see a number of different kinds of people,” -she said, “but we had nothing very exciting to-day, I must -confess--though sometimes the authors and authoresses bore me--and they -are often very disappointing, one does not any longer care to read -their books after seeing them.” - -I said I could quite believe that. - -“I do not go in for budding geniuses,” she continued, “I prefer to -wait until they have arrived--no matter their origin, then they have -acquired a certain outside behaviour on the way up, and it does not -_froissé_ one so. Merrenden is a great judge of human nature, and -variety entertains him. Left to myself I fear I should be quite -contented with less gifted people who were simply of one’s own world.” - -In all her talk one can see her thought and consideration for Lord -Merrenden and his wishes and tastes. - -“I always feel it is so cruel for him our having no children,” she -said; “the Earldom becomes extinct, so I must make him as happy as I -can.” - -What a dear and just woman! - -At last we spoke of Robert, and she told me stories of his boyhood, -amusing Eton scrapes, and later feats. And how brave and splendid he -had been in the war; and how the people all adored him at Torquilstone; -and of his popularity and influence with them. “You must make him go -into Parliament,” she said. - -Then Robert came into the room. Oh! his darling face spoke, there was -no need for words! The Duke, one could see, had been obdurate. - -“Well?” said Lady Merrenden. - -Robert came straight over to me, and took my face in his two hands: -“Darling,” he said, “before everything I want you to know I love you -better than anything else in the world, and nothing will make any -difference,” and he kissed me deliberately before his aunt. His voice -was so moved--and we all felt a slight lump in our throats, I know; -then he stood in front of us, but he held my hand. - -“Torquilstone was horrid, I can see,” said Lady Merrenden. “What did -he say, Robert--tell us everything? Evangeline would wish it too, I am -sure, as well as I.” - -Robert looked very pale and stern, one can see how firm his jaw is in -reality, and how steady his dear blue eyes. - -“I told him I loved Evangeline, whom I understood he had met yesterday, -and that I intended to marry her----” - -“And he said?” asked Lady Merrenden, breathless. - -I only held tighter Robert’s hand. - -“He swore like a trooper, he thumped his glass down on the table and -smashed it--a disgusting exhibition of temper--I was ashamed of him. -Then he said, ‘Never, as long as he lived and could prevent it--that he -had heard something of my infatuation, so as I am not given that way he -had made inquiries, and found the family was most unsatisfactory.’ Then -he had come here yesterday on purpose to see you--darling,” turning -to me--“and that he had judged for himself. The girl was a ‘devilish -beauty’ (his words not mine) with the naughtiest provoking eyes, and -a mouth--No! I can’t say the rest, it makes me too mad!” and Robert’s -eyes flashed. - -Lady Merrenden rose from her seat, and came and took my other hand. I -felt as if I could not stand too tall and straight. - -“The long and short of it is, he has absolutely refused to have -anything to do with the matter; says I need expect nothing further from -him, and we have parted for good and all!” - -“Oh, Robert!” it was almost a cry from Lady Merrenden. - -Robert put his arms round me, and his face changed to radiance. - -“Well, I don’t care--what does it matter! A few places and thousands -in the dim future--the loss of them is nothing to me if I have only my -Evangeline now.” - -“But, Robert, dearest,” Lady Merrenden said, “you can’t possibly live -without what he allows you, what have you of your own? About eighteen -hundred a year, I suppose, and you know, darling boy, you are often in -debt. Why he paid five thousand for you as lately as last Easter. Oh, -what is to be done!” and she clasped her hands. - -I felt as if turned to stone. Was all this divine happiness going to -slip from my grasp? Yes, it looked like it, for I could never drag -Robert into poverty, and spoil his great future. - -“He can’t leave away Torquilstone, and those thousands of profitless -acres,” Lady Merrenden went on, “but unfortunately the London property -is at his disposition. Oh! I must go and talk to him!” - -“No!” said Robert. “It would not be the least use, and would look as -if we were pleading. His face had fallen to intense sadness as Lady -Merrenden spoke of his money. - -“Darling,” he said, in a broken voice. “No, it is true it would not be -fair to make you a beggar. I should be a cad to ask you. We must think -of some way of softening my brother after all!” - -Then I spoke. - -“Robert,” I said, “if you were only John Smith I would say I would -willingly go and live with you in a cottage, or even in a slum--but you -are not, and I would not for _anything in the world_ drag you down out -of what is your position in life--that would be a poor sort of love. -Oh! my dear,” and I clasped tight his hand--“if everything fails, then -we must part, and you must forget me.” - -He folded me in his arms, and we heard the door shut. Lady Merrenden -had left us alone. Oh! it was anguish and divine bliss at the same time -the next half hour. - -“I will never forget you, and never in this world will I take another -woman, I swear to God,” he said at the end of it. “If we must part, -then life is finished for me of all joy.” - -“And for me, too, Robert!” - -We said the most passionate vows of love to one another, but I will not -write them here, there is another locked book where I keep them--the -book of my soul. - -“Would it be any good if Colonel Tom Carden went and spoke to him?” I -asked, presently. “He was best man at papa’s wedding, and knows all -that there is to be known of poor mamma, and do you think that as -mamma’s father was Lord de Brandreth, a very old barony, I believe, -it is--oh! can it make any difference to the children’s actual -breeding, their parents not having been through the marriage ceremony? -I--I--don’t know much of those sort of things!” - -“My sweet!” said Robert, and through all our sorrow he smiled and -kissed me, “my sweet, sweet Evangeline.” - -“But does the Duke know all the details of the history,” I asked, when -I could speak--one can’t when one is being kissed. - -“Every little bit, it seems. He says he will not discuss the matter of -that, I must know it is quite enough, as I have always known his views, -but if they were not sufficient, your wild, wicked beauty is. You would -not be faithful to me for a year, he said. I could hardly keep from -killing him when he hurled that at my head.” - -I felt my temper rising. How frightfully unjust--how cruel. I went -over and looked in the glass--a big mirror between the window--drawing -Robert with me. - -“Oh! tell me, tell me what is it. Am I so very bad looking? It is a -curse surely that is upon me!” - -“Of course you are not bad looking, my darling!” exclaimed -Robert. “You are perfectly beautiful--slender, stately, exquisite -tiger-lily--only--only--you don’t look cold--and it is just your red -hair, and those fascinating green eyes, and your white lovely skin and -black eyelashes that, that--oh! you know, you sweetheart! You don’t -look like bread and butter, you are utterly desirable, and you would -make any one’s heart beat!” - -I thought of the night at “Carmen.” - -“Yes, I am wicked,” I said, “but I never will be again--only just -enough to make you always love me, because Lady Ver says security makes -yawns. But even wicked people can love with a great, great love, and -that can keep them good. Oh! if he only knew how utterly I love you, -Robert, I am sure, sure, he would be kind to us!” - -“Well, how shall we tell him?” - -Then a thought came to me, and I felt all over a desperate thrill of -excitement. - -“Will you do nothing until to-morrow?” I said. “I have an idea which I -will tell to no one. Let us go back to Claridge’s now, and do not come -and see me again until to-morrow at twelve. Then if this has failed, we -will say good-bye. It is a desperate chance.” - -“And you won’t tell me what it is?” - -“No--please trust me--it is my life as well as yours, remember.” - -“My queen!” he said. “Yes, I will do that, or anything else you wish, -only _never, never_ good-bye. I am a man after all, and have numbers -of influential relations. I can do something else in life but just -be a Guardsman, and we shall get enough money to live quite happily -on--though we might not be very grand people. I will never say -good-bye--do you hear. Promise me you will never say it either.” - -I was silent. - -“Evangeline, darling!” he cried, in anguish, his eyebrows right up in -the old way, while two big tears welled up in his beautiful eyes. “My -God! won’t you answer me!” - -“Yes, I will!” I said, and I threw all my reserve to the winds, and -flung my arms round his neck passionately. - -“I love you with my heart and soul, and pray to God we shall never say -good-bye.” - -When I got back to Claridge’s, for the first time in my life I felt a -little faint. Lady Merrenden had driven me back herself, and left me, -with every assurance of her devotion and affection for us. I had said -good-bye to Robert for the day at Carlton House Terrace. - -They do not yet know me, either of them--quite--or what I can and will -do. - - CLARIDGE’S, - - _Monday night_. - -I FELT to carry out my plan I must steady my mind a little, so I wrote -my journal, and that calmed me. - -Of all the things I was sure of in the world I was most sure that I -loved Robert far too well to injure his prospects. On the other hand -to throw him away without a struggle was too cruel to both of us. If -mamma’s mother was nobody, all the rest of my family were fine old -fighters and gentlemen, and I really prayed to their shades to help me -now. - -Then I rang and ordered some iced water, and when I had thought deeply -for a few minutes, while I sipped it, I sat down to my writing-table. -My hand did not shake, though I felt at a deadly tension. I addressed -the envelope first, to steady myself: - - _To_ - _His Grace_, - THE DUKE OF TORQUILSTONE, - _Vavasour House,_ - _St. James’s, S.W._ - -Then I put that aside. - -“I am Evangeline Travers who writes,” I began, without any preface, -“and I ask if you will see me--either here in my sitting-room this -evening, or I will come to you at Vavasour House. I understand your -brother, Lord Robert, has told you that he loves me, and wishes to -marry me, and that you have refused your consent, partly because of -the history of my family, but chiefly because my type displeases you. -I believe, in days gone by, the prerogative of a great noble like you -was to dispense justice. In my case it is still your prerogative by -courtesy, and I ask it of you. When we have talked for a little, if you -then hold to your opinion of me, and convince me that it is for your -brother’s happiness, I swear to you on my word of honour I will never -see him again. - - “Believe me, - - “Yours faithfully, - - “EVANGELINE TRAVERS.” - -I put it hastily in the envelope, and fastened it up. Then I rang the -bell, and had it sent by a messenger in a cab, who was to wait for an -answer. Oh! I wonder in life if I shall ever have to go through another -twenty-five minutes like those that passed before the waiter brought a -note up to me in reply. - -Even if the journal won’t shut I must put it in. - - “VAVASOUR HOUSE, - - “_St. James’s_, - - “_Nov. 28th_. - -“DEAR MADAM,--I have received your letter, and request you to excuse -my calling upon you at your hotel this evening, as I am very unwell, -but if you will do me the honour to come to Vavasour House on receipt -of this, I will discuss the matter in question with you, and trust you -will believe that you may rely upon my _justice_. - - “I remain, Madam, - - “Yours truly, - - “TORQUILSTONE.” - -“His grace’s brougham is waiting below for you, Madam,” the waiter -said, and I flew to Véronique. - -I got her to dress me quickly. I wore the same things exactly as he had -seen me in before, deep mourning they are, and extremely becoming. - -In about ten minutes Véronique and I were seated in the brougham and -rolling on our way. I did not speak. - -I was evidently expected, for as the carriage stopped the great doors -flew open, and I could see into the dim and splendid hall. - -A silver-haired, stately old servant led me along, through a row of -powdered footmen, down a passage dimly lit with heavily shaded lights -(Véronique was left to their mercies). Then the old man opened a door, -and without announcing my name, merely, “The lady, your grace,” he held -the door, and then went out and closed it softly. - -It was a huge room splendidly panelled with dark carved _boiserie_ -Louis XV, the most beautiful of its kind I had ever seen, only it was -so dimly lit with the same sort of shaded lamps one could hardly see -into the corners. - -The Duke was crouching in a chair, he looked fearfully pale and -ill, and had an inscrutable expression on his face. Fancy a man so -old-looking, and crippled, being even Robert’s half-brother! - -I came forward; he rose with difficulty, and this is the conversation -we had. - -“Please don’t get up,” I said, “if I may sit down opposite you.” - -“Excuse my want of politeness,” he replied, pointing to a chair, “but -my back is causing me great pain to-day.” - -He looked such a poor miserable, soured, unhappy creature, I could not -help being touched. - -“Oh, I am so sorry!” I said. “If I had known you were ill, I would not -have troubled you now.” - -“Justice had better not wait,” he answered, with a whimsical, cynical, -sour smile. “State your case.” - -Then he suddenly turned on an electric lamp near me, which made a blaze -of light in my face. I did not jump. I am glad to say I have pretty -good nerves. - -“My case is this: to begin with, I love your brother better than -anything else in the world----” - -“Possibly: a number of women have done so,” he interrupted. “Well?” - -“And he loves me,” I continued, not noticing the interruption. - -“Agreed. It is a situation that happens every day among young fools. -You have known one another about a month, I believe?” - -“Under four weeks,” I corrected. - -He laughed bitterly. - -“It cannot be of such vital importance to you then in that short time!” - -“It is of vital importance to me, and you know your brother’s -character; you will be able to judge as well as I if, or not, it is a -matter of vital importance to him.” - -He frowned. “Well, your case.” - -“First, to demand on what grounds you condemned me as a ‘devilish -beauty?’ and why you assume that I should not be faithful to Robert for -a year?” - -“I am rather a good judge of character,” he said. - -“You cannot be--or you would see that whatever accident makes me have -this objectionable outside, the me that lives within is an honest -person who never breaks her word.” - -“I can only see red hair and green eyes, and a general look of the -devil.” - -“Would you wish people always to judge by appearances then?” I -said. “Because, if so, I see before me a prejudiced, narrow-minded, -cruel-tempered, cynical man, jealous of youth’s joys. But _I_ would not -be so unjust as to stamp you with these qualities because of that!” - -He looked straight at me, startled. “I may be all those things,” he -said. “You are probably right!” - -“Then, oh, please don’t be!” I went on quickly. “I want you to be kind -to us. We, oh, we do, do so wish to be happy, and we are both so young, -and life will be so utterly blank and worthless for all these years to -the end if you part us now.” - -“I did not say I would part you,” he said, coldly. “I merely said I -refused to give Robert any allowance, and I shall leave everything in -my power away from the title. If you like to get married on those terms -you are welcome to.” - -Then I told him I loved Robert far too much to like the thought of -spoiling his future. - -“We came into each others lives,” I said. “We did not ask it of Fate, -she pushed us there; and I tried not to speak to him because I had -promised a friend of mine I would not, as she said she liked him -herself, and it made us both dreadfully unhappy, and every day we -mattered more to one another; until yesterday--when I thought he had -gone away for good, and I was too miserable for words--we met in the -Park, and it was no use pretending any longer. Oh! you _can’t_ want to -crush out all joy and life for us, just because I have red hair! It is -so horribly unjust.” - -“You beautiful siren,” he said. “You are coaxing me. How you know how -to use your charms and your powers; and what _man_ could resist your -tempting face!” - -I rose in passionate scorn. - -“How dare you say such things to me!” I said. “I would not stoop -to coax you--I will not again ask you for any boon! I only wanted -you to do me the justice of realizing you had made a mistake in my -character--to do your brother the justice of conceding the point that -he has some right to love whom he chooses. But keep your low thoughts -to yourself! Evil, cruel man! Robert and I have got something that is -better than all your lands and money--a dear, great love, and I am -glad; glad that he will not in the future receive anything that is in -your gift. I shall give him the gift of myself, and we shall do very -well without you,” and I walked to the door, leaving him huddled in -the chair. - -Thus ended our talk on justice! - -Never has my head been so up in the air. I am sure had Cleopatra been -dragged to Rome in Augustus’s triumph she would not have walked with -more pride and contempt than I through the hall of Vavasour House. - -The old servant was waiting for me, and Véronique, and the brougham. - -“Call a hansom, if you please,” I said, and stood there like a statue -while one of the footmen had to run into St. James’s Street for it. - -Then we drove away, and I felt my teeth chatter, while my cheeks burnt. -Oh! what an end to my scheme, and my dreams of perhaps success! - -But what a beast of a man! What a cruel, warped, miserable creature. I -will not let him separate me from Robert, never, never! He is not worth -it. I will wait for him--my darling--and, if he really loves me, some -day we can be happy, and if he does not--but oh! I need not fear. - -I am still shaking with passion, and shall go to bed. I do not want any -dinner. - - * * * * * - - _Tuesday morning, Nov. 29th._ - -VÉRONIQUE would not let me go to bed, she insisted upon my eating, and -then after dinner I sat in an old, but lovely wrap of white crêpe, -and she brushed out my hair for more than an hour--there is such a -tremendous lot of it, it takes time. - -I sat in front of the sitting-room fire, and tried not to think. One -does feel a wreck after a scene like that. At about half past nine I -heard noises in the passage of people, and with only a preliminary -tap Robert and Lady Merrenden came into the room. I started up, and -Véronique dropped the brush, in her astonishment, and then left us -alone. - -Both their eyes were shining, and excited, and Robert looked crazy with -joy; he seized me in his arms and kissed me, and kissed me, while Lady -Merrenden said, “You darling, Evangeline, you plucky, clever girl, -tell us all about it!” - -“About what!” I said, as soon as I could speak. - -“How you managed it.” - -“Oh, I must kiss her first, Aunt Sophia!” said Robert. “Did you ever -see anything so divinely lovely as she looks with her hair all floating -like this--and it is all mine--every bit of it!!!” - -“Yes, it is,” I said sadly. “And that is about all of value you will -get!” - -“Come and sit down,” said Robert, “Evangeline, you darling--and look at -this!” - -Upon which he drew from his pocket a note. I saw at once it was the -Duke’s writing, and I shivered with excitement. He held it before my -eyes. - -“DEAR ROBERT,” it began, “I have seen her. I am conquered. She will -make a magnificent Duchess. Bring her to lunch to-morrow. Yours, -TORQUILSTONE.” - -I really felt so intensely moved I could not speak. - -“Oh, tell us, dear child, how did it happen--and what did you do--and -where did you meet?” said Lady Merrenden. - -Robert held my hand. - -Then I tried to tell them as well as I could, and they listened -breathlessly. “I was very rude, I fear,” I ended with, “but I was so -angry.” - -“It is glorious,” said Robert. “But the best part is that you intended -to give me yourself with no prospect of riches. Oh, darling, that is -the best gift of all.” - -“Was it disgustingly selfish of me?” I said. “But when I saw your -poor brother so unhappy looking, and soured, and unkind, with all his -grandeur, I felt that to us, who know what love means, to be together -was the thing that matters most in all the world.” - -Lady Merrenden then said she knew some people staying here who had an -_appartement_ on the first floor, and she would go down and see if they -were visible. She would wait for Robert in the hall, she said, and she -kissed us good-night, and gave us her blessing. - -What a dear she is! What a nice pet to leave us alone! - -Robert and I passed another hour of bliss, and I think we must have got -to the sixth heaven by now. Robert says the seventh is for the end, -when we are married--well, that will be soon. Oh! I am too happy to -write coherently. - -I did not wake till late this morning, and Véronique came and said my -sitting-room was again full of flowers. The darling Robert is! - -I wrote to Christopher and Lady Ver, in bed as I sipped my chocolate. I -just told Lady Ver the truth, that Robert and I had met by chance, and -discovered we loved one another, so I knew she would understand--and I -promised I would not break his heart. Then I thanked her for all her -kindness to me, but I felt sad when I read it over--poor, dear Lady -Ver--how I hope it won’t really hurt her, and that she will forgive me. - -To Christopher I said I had found my “variation” worth while, and I -hoped he would come to my wedding some day soon. - -Then I sent Véronique to post them both. - -To-day I am moving to Carlton House Terrace. What a delight that will -be--and in a fortnight, or at best three weeks, Robert says we shall -quietly go and get married, and Colonel Tom Carden can give me away -after all. - -Oh the joy of the dear, beautiful world, and this sweet, dirty, -enshrouding fog-bound London! I love it all--even the smuts! - - CARLTON HOUSE TERRACE, - _Thursday night_. - -ROBERT came to see me at twelve, and he brought me the loveliest, -splendid diamond and emerald ring, and I danced about like a child with -delight over it. He has the most exquisite sentiment, Robert, every -little trifle has some delicate meaning, and he makes me _feel_ and -_feel_. - -Each hour we spend together we seem to discover some new bit of us -which is just what the other wants. And he is so deliciously jealous -and masterful and--oh! I love him--so there it is! - -I am learning a number of things, and I am sure there are lots to learn -still. - -At half past one Lady Merrenden came, and fetched us in the _barouche_, -and off we went to Vavasour House, with what different feelings to last -evening. - -The pompous servants received us in state, and we all three walked on -to the Duke’s room. - -There he was, still huddled in his chair, but he got up--he is better -to-day. - -Lady Merrenden went over and kissed him. - -“Dear Torquilstone,” she said. - -“Morning, Robert,” he mumbled, after he had greeted his aunt. -“Introduce me to your _fiancée_.” - -And Robert did with great ceremony. - -“Now, I won’t call you names any more,” I said, and I laughed in his -face. He bent down, and kissed my forehead. - -“You are a beautiful tiger cat,” he said, “but even a year of you would -be well worth while.” - -Upon which Robert glared, and I laughed again, and we all went in to -lunch. - -He is not so bad, the Duke, after all! - - - CARLTON HOUSE TERRACE, - _Dec. 21st._ - -OH! it is three weeks since I wrote, but I have been too busy, and -too happy, for journals. I have been here ever since, getting my -trousseau, and Véronique is becoming used to the fact that I can have -no coronet on my _lingerie_! - -It is the loveliest thing in the world being engaged to Robert! - -He has ways!--Well, even if I really were as bad as I suppose I look, -I could never want any one else. He worships me, and lets me order -him about, and then he orders me about, and that makes me have the -loveliest thrills! And if any one even looks at me in the street, which -of course they always do--he flashes blue fire at them, and I feel--oh! -I feel, all the time! - -Lady Merrenden continues her sweet kindness to us, and her tact is -beyond words, and now I often do what I used to wish to--that is, touch -Robert’s eyelashes with the tips of my fingers! - -It is perfectly lovely. - -Oh, what in the world is the good of anything else in life, but being -frantically in love like we are. - -It all seems, to look back upon, as if it were like having porridge -for breakfast, and nothing else every day--before I met Robert! - -Perhaps it is because he is going to be very grand in the future, but -every one has discovered I am a beauty, and intelligent. It is much -nicer to be thought that than just to be a red-haired adventuress. - -Lady Katherine, even, has sent me a cairngorm brooch and a cordial -letter (should now adorn her circle!) - -But oh! what do they all matter--what does anything matter but Robert! -All day long I know I am learning the meaning of “to dance and to sing -and to laugh and _to live_.” - -The Duke and I are great friends, he has ferreted out about mamma’s -mother, and it appears she was a Venetian music mistress of the name -of Tonquini, or something like that, who taught Lord de Brandreth’s -sisters--so perhaps Lady Ver was right after all, and far, far back in -some other life, I was the friend of a Doge. - -Poor dear Lady Ver! she has taken it very well after the first spiteful -letter, and now I don’t think there is even a tear at the corner of -her eye! - -Lady Merrenden says it is just the time of the year when she usually -gets a new one, so perhaps she has now, and so that is all right. - -The diamond serpent she has given me has emerald eyes--and such a -pointed tongue. - -“It is like you, Snake-girl,” she said, “so wear it at your wedding.” - -The three angels are to be my only bridesmaids. - -Robert loads me with gifts, and the Duke is going to let me wear all -the Torquilstone jewels when I am married, besides the emeralds he has -given me himself. I really love him. - -Christopher sent me this characteristic note with the earrings which -are his gift, great big emeralds set with diamonds: - - “So sorry I shall not see you on the happy day, but Paris, I am - fortunate enough to discover, still has joys for me. - - “C. C. - -“Wear them, they will match your eyes!” - -And to-morrow is my wedding-day, and I am going away on a honeymoon -with Robert--away into the seventh heaven. And oh! and oh! I am certain -_sure_ neither of us will yawn! - - - END OF EVANGELINE’S JOURNAL - - - CHISWICK PRESS: PRINTED BY CHARLES WHITTINGHAM AND CO. - TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE, LONDON. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Vicissitudes of Evangeline, by Elinor Glyn - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VICISSITUDES OF EVANGELINE *** - -***** This file should be named 51644-0.txt or 51644-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/6/4/51644/ - -Produced by Giovanni Fini, Clarity and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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