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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a5a05df --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #51945 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51945) diff --git a/old/51945-0.txt b/old/51945-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 8c9128d..0000000 --- a/old/51945-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4580 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Gray Eye or So, by Frank Frankfort Moore - -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: A Gray Eye or So - In Three Volumes--Volume II - -Author: Frank Frankfort Moore - -Release Date: May 2, 2016 [EBook #51945] -Last Updated: November 15, 2016 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GRAY EYE OR SO *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - - - - -A GRAY EYE OR SO - -By Frank Frankfort Moore - -In Three Volumes--Volume II - -Sixth Edition - -London, Hutchinson & Co., 34 Paternoster Row - -1893 - - - - -A GRAY EYE OR SO. - - - - -CHAPTER XX.--ON AN OAK SETTEE. - -HE was still pondering over the many aspects of the question which, to -his mind, needed solution, when he returned to the Castle, to find Lord -Fotheringay in a chair by the side of a gaunt old man who, at one -period of his life, had probably been tall, but who was now stooped in -a remarkable way. The stranger seemed very old, so that beside him -Lord Fotheringay looked comparatively youthful. Of this fact no one was -better aware than Lord Fotheringay. - -Edmund Airey had seen portraits of the new guest, and did not require to -be told that he was Julius Anthony Avon, the historian of certain periods. - -The first thought that occurred to him when he saw the two men side by -side, was that Lord Fotheringay would not appear ridiculous merely as -the son-in-law of Mr. Avon. To the casual observer at any rate he might -have posed as the son of Mr. Avon. - -He himself seemed to be under the impression that he might pass as -Mr. Avon’s grandson, for he was extremely sportive in his presence, -attitudinizing on his settee in a way that Edmund knew must have been -agonizing to his rheumatic joints. Edmund smiled. He felt that he was -watching the beginning of a comedy. - -He learned that Mr. Avon had yielded to the persuasion of Lady Innisfail -and had consented to join his daughter at the Castle for a few days. -He was not fond of going into society; but it so happened that Castle -Innisfail had been the centre of an Irish conspiracy at the early -part of the century, and this fact made the acceptance by him of Lady -Innisfail’s invitation a matter of business. - -Hearing the nature of the work at which he was engaged, Lord Fotheringay -had lost no time in expounding to him, in that airy style which he -had at his command, the various mistakes that had been made by several -generations of statesmen in dealing with the Irish question. The -fundamental error which they had all committed was taking the Irish and -their rebellions and conspiracies too seriously. - -This theory he expounded to the man who was writing a biographical -dictionary of Irish informers, and was about to publish his seventh -volume, concluding the letter B. - -Mr. Avon listened, gaunt and grim, while Lord Fotheringay gracefully -waved away statesman after statesman who had failed signally, by reason -of taking Ireland and the Irish seriously. - -There was something grim also in Edmund Airey’s smile as he glanced at -this beginning of the comedy. - -That night Miss Stafford added originality to the ordinary terrors of -her recital. She explained that hitherto she had merely interpreted -the verses of others: now, however, she would draw upon her store of -original poems. - -Of course, Edmund Airey was outside the drawingroom while this was going -on. So were many of his fellow-guests, including Helen Craven. Edmund -found her beside him in a secluded part of the hall. He was rather -startled by her sudden appearance. He forgot to greet her with one of -the clever things that he reserved for her and other appreciative young -women--for he still found a few, as any man with a large income may, if -he only keeps his eyes open. “What a fool you must think me,” were the -words with which Miss Craven greeted him, so soon as he became aware of -her presence. - -Strange to say, he had a definite idea that she had said something -clever--at any rate something that impressed him more strongly than ever -with the idea that she was a clever girl. - -And yet she had assumed that he must think her a fool. - -“A fool?” said he, “To think you so would be to write myself down one, -Miss Craven.” - -“Mr Airey,” said she, “I am a woman. Long ago I was a girl. You will -thus believe me when I tell you that I never was frank in all my life. I -want to begin now.” - -“Ah, now I know the drift of your remark,” said he. “A fool. Yes, you -made a good beginning: but supposing that I were to be frank, where -would you be then?” - -“I want you to begin also, Mr Airey,” said she. - -“To begin? Oh, I made my start years ago--when I entered Parliament,” - said he. “I was perfectly frank with the Opposition when I pointed out -their mistakes. I have never yet been frank with a friend, however. That -is why I still have a few left.” - -“You must be frank with me now; if you won’t it doesn’t matter: I’ll be -so to you. I admit that I behaved like an idiot; but you were -responsible for it--yes, largely.” - -“That is a capital beginning. Now tell me what you have done or left -undone--above all, tell me where my responsibility comes in.” - -“You like Harold Wynne?” - -“You suggest that a mere liking involves a certain responsibility?” - -“I love him.” - -“Great heavens!” - -“Why should you be startled at the confession when you have been aware -of the fact for some time?” - -“I never met a frank woman before. It is very terrible. Perhaps I shall -get used to it.” - -“Why will you not drop that tone?” she said, almost piteously. “Cannot -you see how serious the thing is to me?” - -“It is quite as serious to me,” he replied. “Men have confided in -me--mostly fools--a woman never. Pray do not continue in that strain.” - -“Then find words for me--be frank.” - -“I will. You mean to say, Miss Craven, that I think you a fool because, -acting on the hint which I somewhat vaguely, but really in good faith, -dropped, you tried to impersonate the figure of the legend at that -ridiculous cave. Is not that what you would say if you had the courage -to be thoroughly frank?” - -“Thank you,” said she, in a still weaker voice. “It is not so easy being -frank all in a moment.” - -“No, not if one has accustomed oneself to--let us say good manners,” he -added. - -“When I started for the boats after you had all left for that nonsense -at the village, I felt certain that you were my friend as well as Harold -Wynne’s, and that you had good reason for believing that he would be -about the cave shortly after our hour of dining. I’m not very romantic.” - -“Pardon me,” said he. “You are not quite frank. If you were you would -say that, while secretly romantic, you follow the example of most young -women nowadays in ridiculing romance.” - -“Quite right,” she said. “I admitted just now that I found it difficult -to be frank all in a moment. Anyhow I believed that if I were to play -the part of the Wraith of the Cave within sight of Harold Wynne, he -might--oh, how could I have been such a fool? But you--you, I say, were -largely responsible for it, Mr. Airey.” She was now speaking not merely -reproachfully but fiercely. “Why should you drop those hints--they -were much more than hints--about his being so deeply impressed with the -romance--about his having gone to the cave on the previous evening, if -you did not mean me to act upon them?” - -“I did mean you to act upon them,” said he. “I meant that you and -he should come together last night, and I know that if you had come -together, he would have asked you to marry him. I meant all that, -because I like him and I like you too--yes, in spite of your frankness.” - -“Thank you,” said she, giving him her hand. “You forgive me for being -angry just now?” - -“The woman who is angry with a man without cause pays him the greatest -compliment in her power,” he remarked. “Fate was against us.” - -“You think that she is so very--very pretty?” said Miss Craven. - -“She?--fate?--I’ll tell you what I think. I think that Harold Wynne has -met with the greatest misfortune of his life.” - -“If you believe that, I know that I have met with the greatest of my -life.” - -The corner of the hall was almost wholly in shadow. The settee upon -which Mr. Airey and Miss Craven were sitting, was cut off from the rest -of the place by the thigh hone of the great skeleton elk. Between the -ribs of the creature, however, some rays of light passed from one of -the lamps; and, as Mr. Airey looked sympathetically into the face of his -companion, he saw the gleam of a tear upon her cheek. - -He was deeply impressed--so deeply that some moments had passed before -he found himself wondering what she would say next. For a moment he -forgot to be on his guard, though if anyone had described the details -of a similar scene to him, he would probably have smiled while remarking -that when the lamplight gleams upon a tear upon the cheek of a young -woman of large experience, is just when a man needs most to be on his -guard, He felt in another moment, however, that something was coming. - -He waited for it in silence. - -It seemed to him in that pause that he was seated by the side of someone -whom he had never met before. The girl who was beside him seemed to -have nothing in common with Helen Craven. So greatly does a young woman -change when she becomes frank. - -This is why so many husbands declare--when they are also frank--that -the young women whom they marry are in every respect different from the -young women who promise to be their wives. - -“What is going to happen?” Helen asked him in a steady voice. - -“God knows,” said he. - -“I saw them together just after they left you this morning,” said she. -“I was at one of the windows of the Castle, they were far along the -terrace; but I’m sure that he said something to her about her eyes.” - -“I should not be surprised if he did,” said Edmund. “Her eyes invite -comment.” - -“I believe that in spite of her eyes she is much the same as any other -girl.” - -“Is that to the point?” he asked. He was a trifle disappointed in her -last sentence. It seemed to show him that, whatever Beatrice might be, -Helen was much the same as other girls. - -“It is very much to the point,” said she. “If she is like other girls -she will hesitate before marrying a penniless man.” - -“I agree with you,” said he. “But if she is like other girls she will -not hesitate to love a penniless man.” - -“Possibly--if, like me, she can afford to do so. But I happen to know -that she cannot afford it. This brings me up to what has been on my mind -all day. You are, I know, my friend; you are Harold Wynne’s also. Now, -if you want to enable him to gratify his reasonable ambition--if you -want to make him happy--to make me happy--you will prevent him from ever -asking Beatrice Avon to marry him.” - -“And I am prepared to do so much for him--for you--for her. But how can -I do it?” - -“You can take her away from him. You know how such things are done. You -know that if a distinguished man such as you are, with a large income -such as you possess, gives a girl to understand that he is, let us say, -greatly interested in her, she will soon cease to be interested in any -undistinguished and penniless son of a reprobate peer who may be before -her eyes.” - -“I have seen such a social phenomenon,” said he. “Does your proposition -suggest that I should marry the young woman with ‘a gray eye or so’?” - -“You may marry her if you please--that’s entirely a matter for yourself. -I don’t see any need for you to go that length. Have I not kept my -promise to be frank?” - -“You have,” said he. - -She had risen from the settee. She laid her hand on one of his that -rested on a projection of the old oak carving, and in another instant -she was laughing in front of Norah Innisfail, who was rendered even more -proper than usual through having become acquainted with Miss Stafford’s -notions of originality in verse-making. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI.--ON THE ELEMENTS OF PARTY POLITICS. - - -MR. AIREY was actually startled by the suggestion which Miss Craven -had made with, on the whole, considerable tact as well as inconceivable -frankness. - -He had been considering all the afternoon the possibility of carrying -out the idea which it seemed Helen Craven had on her mind as well; but -it had never occurred to him that his purpose might be achieved through -the means suggested by the young woman who had just gone from his side. - -His first impression was that the proposal made to him was the cruellest -that had ever come from one girl in respect of another girl. He had -never previously had an idea that a girl could be so heartless as to -make such a suggestion as that which had come from Helen Craven; but in -the course of a short space of time, he found it expedient to revise his -first judgment on this matter. Helen Craven meant to marry Harold--so -much could scarcely be doubted--and her marrying him would be the best -thing that could happen to him. She was anxious to prevent his marrying -Miss Avon; and surely this was a laudable aim, considering that marrying -Miss Avon would be the worst thing that could happen to him--and to Miss -Avon as well. - -It might possibly be regarded as cruel by some third censors for Miss -Craven to suggest that he, Edmund, after leading the other girl to -believe that he was desirous of marrying her--or at least to believe -that she might have a chance of marrying him--might stop short. To be -sure, Miss Craven had not, with all her frankness, said that her idea -was that he should refrain from asking the other girl to marry him, but -only that the question was one that concerned himself alone. - -He thought over this point for some time, and the conclusion he came -to was that, after all, whether or not the cynical indifference of the -suggestion amounted to absolute cruelty, the question concerned himself -alone. Even if he were not to ask her to marry him after leading her to -suppose that he intended doing so, he would at any rate have prevented -her from the misery of marrying Harold; and that was something for which -she might be thankful to him. He would also have saved her from the -degradation of receiving a proposal of marriage from Lord Fotheringay; -and that was also something for which she might be thankful to him. - -Being a strictly party politician, he regarded expediency as the -greatest of all considerations. He was not devoid of certain scruples -now and again; but he was capable of weighing the probable advantages of -yielding to these scruples against the certain advantages of--well, of -throwing them to the winds. - -For some minutes after Helen Craven had left him he subjected his -scruples to the balancing process, and the result was that he found they -were as nothing compared with the expediency of proceeding as Helen had -told him that it was advisable for him to proceed. - -He made up his mind that he would save the girl--that was how he put it -to himself--and he would take extremely good care that he saved himself -as well. Marriage would not suit him. Of this he was certain. People -around him were beginning to be certain of it also. The mothers -in Philistia had practically come to regard him as a _quantité -négligeable_. The young women did not trouble themselves about him, -after a while. It would not suit him to marry a young woman with -lustrous eyes, he said to himself as he left his settee; but it would -suit him to defeat the machinations of Lord Fotheringay, and to induce -his friend Harold Wynne to pursue a sensible course. - -He found himself by the side of Beatrice Avon before five minutes had -passed, and he kept her thoroughly amused for close upon an hour--he -kept her altogether to himself also, though many chances of leaving his -side were afforded the girl by considerate youths, and by one smiling -person who had passed the first bloom of youth and had reached that -which is applied by the cautious hare’s foot in the hand of a valet. - -Before the hour of brandy-and-sodas and resplendent smoking-jackets had -come, the fact of his having kept Beatrice Avon so long entertained had -attracted some attention. - -It had attracted the attention of Miss Craven, who commented upon it -with a confidential smile at Harold. It attracted the attention of -Harold’s father, who commented upon it with a leer and a sneer. It -attracted the attention of Lady Innisfail, who commented upon it with a -smile that caused the dainty dimple in her chin to assume the shape of -the dot in a well-made note of interrogation. - -It also attracted the attention of quite a number of other persons, but -they reserved their comments, which was a wise thing for them to do. - -As she said good-night to him, she seemed, Edmund Airey thought, to be -a trifle fascinated as well as fascinating. He felt that he had had a -delightful hour--it was far more delightful than the half hour which he -had passed on the settee at the rear of the skeleton elk. - -His feeling in this matter simply meant that it was far more agreeable -to him to see a young woman admiring his cleverness than it was to -admire the cleverness of another young woman. - -He enjoyed his smoke by the side of the judge; for when a man is -absorbed in the thoughts of his own cleverness he can still get a -considerable amount of passive enjoyment out of the story of How the -Odds fell from Thirteen to Five to Six to Four against Porcupine for -some prehistoric Grand National. - -Harold Wynne now and again glanced across the hall at the man who -professed to be his best friend. He could perceive without much trouble -that Edmund Airey was particularly well pleased with himself. - -This meant, he thought, that Edmund had been particularly well pleased -with Beatrice Avon. - -Lord Fotheringay was too deeply absorbed in giving point to a story, -founded upon personal experience, which he was telling to his host, -to give a moment’s attention to Edmund Airey, or to make an attempt to -interpret his aspect. - -It was only when his valet was putting him carefully to bed--he required -very careful handling--that he recollected the effective way in which -Airey had snubbed him, when he had made an honest attempt to reach Miss -Avon conversationally. - -He now found time to wonder what Airey meant by preventing the girl from -being entertained--Lord Fotheringay assumed, as a matter of course, -that the girl had not been entertained--all the evening. He had no head, -however, for considering such a question in all its aspects. He only -resolved that in future he would take precious good care that when there -was any snubbing in the air, he would be the dispenser of it, not the -recipient. - -Lord Fotheringay was not a man of genius, but upon occasions he could -be quite as disagreeable as if he were. He had studied the art of -administering snubs, and though he had never quite succeeded in snubbing -a member of Parliament of the same standing as Mr. Airey, yet he felt -quite equal to the duty, should he find it necessary to make an effort -in this direction. - -He was sleeping the sleep of the reprobate, long before his son had -succeeded in sleeping the sleep of the virtuous. Harold had more to -think about, as well as more capacity of thinking, than his father. He -was puzzled at the attitude of his friend and counsellor, Edmund Airey. -What on earth could he have meant by appropriating Beatrice Avon, Harold -wondered. He assumed that Airey had some object in doing what he had -done. He knew that his friend was not the man to do anything without -having an object in view. Previously he had been discreet to an -extraordinary degree in his attitude toward women. He had never even -made love to those matrons to whom it is discreet to make love. If he -had ever done so Harold knew that he would have heard of it; for there -is no fascination in making love to other men’s wives, unless it is well -known in the world that you are doing so. The school-boy does not -smoke his cigarette in private. The fascination of the sin lies in his -committing it so that it gets talked about. - -Yes, Airey had ever been discreet, Harold knew, and he quite failed to -account for his lapse--assuming that it was indiscreet to appropriate -Beatrice Avon for an hour, and to keep her amused all that time. - -Harold himself had his own ideas of what was discreet in regard to young -women, and he had acted up to them. He did not consider that, so far as -the majority of young women were concerned, he should be accredited with -much self-sacrifice for his discretion. - -Had a great temperance movement been set on foot in Italy in the days -of Cæsar Borgia, the total abstainers would not have earned commendation -for their self-sacrifice. Harold Wynne had been discreet in regard to -most women simply because he was afraid of them. He was afraid that he -might some day be led to ask one of them to marry him--one of them whom -he would regard as worse than a Borgia poison ever after. - -The caution that he had displayed in respect of Helen Craven showed how -discreet he had accustomed himself to be. - -He reflected, however, that in respect of Beatrice Avon he had thrown -discretion to the winds From the moment that he had drawn her hands to -his by the fishing line, he had given himself up to her. He had been -without the power to resist. - -Might it not, then, be the same with Edmund Airey? Might not Edmund, who -had invariably been so guarded as to be wholly free from reproach so -far as women were concerned, have found it impossible to maintain that -attitude in the presence of Beatrice? - -And if this was so, what would be the result? - -This was the thought which kept Harold Wynne awake and uncomfortable for -several hours during that night. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII.--ON THE WISDOM OP THE MATRONS. - -LADY INNISFAIL made a confession to one of her guests--a certain Mrs. -Burgoyne--who was always delighted to play the _rôle_ of receiver of -confessions. The date at which Lady Innisfail’s confession was made was -three days after the arrival of Beatrice Avon at the Castle, and its -subject was her own over-eagerness to secure a strange face for the -entertainment of her guests. - -“I thought that the romantic charm which would attach to that girl, who -seemed to float up to us out of the mist--leaving her wonderful eyes out -of the question altogether--would interest all my guests,” said she. - -“And so it did, if I may speak for the guests,” said Mrs. Burgoyne. -“Yes, we were all delighted for nearly an entire day.” - -“I am glad that my aims were not wholly frustrated,” said Lady -Innisfail. “But you see the condition we are all in at present.” - -“I cannot deny it,” replied Mrs. Burgoyne, with a sigh. “My dear, a new -face is almost as fascinating as a new religion.” - -“More so to some people--generally men,” said Lady Innisfail. “But who -could have imagined that a young thing like that--she has never been -presented, she tells me--should turn us all topsy turvy?” - -“She has a good deal in her favour,” remarked Mrs. Burgoyne. “She is -fresh, her face is strange, she neither plays, sings, nor recites, and -she is a marvellously patient listener.” - -“That last comes through being the daughter of a literary man,” said -Lady Innisfail. “The wives and daughters of poets and historians and -the like are compelled to be patient listeners. They are allowed to do -nothing else.” - -“I dare say. Anyhow that girl has made the most of her time since she -came among us.” - -“She has. The worst of it is that no one could call her a flirt.” - -“I suppose not. But what do you call a girl who is attractive to all -men, and who makes all the men grumpy, except the one she is talking -to?” - -“I call her a--a clever girl,” replied Lady Innisfail. “Don’t we all aim -at that sort of thing?” - -“Perhaps we did--once,” said Mrs. Burgoyne, who was a year or two -younger than her hostess. “I should hope that our aims are different -now. We are too old, are we not?--you and I--for any man to insult us by -making love to us.” - -“A woman is never too old to be insulted, thank God,” said Lady -Innisfail; and Mrs. Burgoyne’s laugh was not the laugh of a matron who -is shocked. - -“All the same,” added Lady Innisfail, “our pleasant party threatens to -become a fiasco, simply because I was over-anxious to annex a new face. -I had set my heart upon bringing Harold Wynne and Helen Craven together; -but now they have become hopelessly good friends.” - -“She is very kind to him.” - -“Yes, that’s the worst of it; she is kind and he is indifferent--he -treats her as if she were his favourite sister.” - -“Are matters so bad as that?” - -“Quite. But when the other girl is listening to what another man is -saying to her, Harold Wynne’s face is a study. He is as clearly in -love with the other girl as anything can be. That, old reprobate--his -father--has his aims too--horrid old creature! Mr. Durdan has ceased to -study the Irish question with a deep-sea cast of hooks in his hand: -he spends some hours every morning devising plans for spending as many -minutes by the side of Beatrice. I do believe that my dear husband would -have fallen a victim too, if I did not keep dinning into his ears that -Beatrice is the loveliest creature of our acquaintance. I lured him on -to deny it, and now we quarrel about it every night.” - -“I believe Lord Innisfail rather dislikes her,” said Mrs. Burgoyne. - -“I’m convinced of it,” said Lady Innisfail. “But what annoys me most is -the attitude of Mr. Airey. He professed to be Harold’s friend as well as -Helen’s, and yet he insists on being so much with Beatrice that Harold -will certainly be led on to the love-making point--” - -“If he has not passed it already,” suggested Mrs. Burgoyne. - -“If he has not passed it already; for I need scarcely tell you, my dear -Phil, that a man does not make love to a girl for herself alone, but -simply because other men make love to her.” - -“Of course.” - -“So that it is only natural that Harold should want to make love to -Beatrice when he is led to believe that Edmund Airey wants to marry -her.” - -“The young fool! Why could he not restrain his desire until Mr. Airey -has married her? But do you really think that Mr. Airey does want to -marry her?” - -“I believe that Harold Wynne believes so--that is enough for the -present. Oh, no. You’ll not find me quite so anxious to annex a strange -face another time.” - -From the report of this confidential duologue it may possibly be -perceived, first, that Lady Innisfail was a much better judge of the -motives and impulses of men than Miss Craven was; and, secondly, that -the presence of Beatrice at the Castle had produced a marked impression -upon the company beneath its roof. - -It was on the evening of the day after the confidential duologue just -reported that there was an entertainment in the hall of the Castle. -It took the form of _tableaux_ arranged after well-known pictures, and -there was certainly no lack of actors and actresses for the figures. - -Mary Queen of Scots was, of course, led to execution, and Marie -Antoinette, equally as a matter of course, appeared in her prison. Then -Miss Stafford did her best to realize the rapt young woman in Mr. Sant’s -“The Soul’s Awaking”--Miss Stafford was very wide awake indeed, some -scoffer suggested; and Miss Innisfail looked extremely pretty--a -hostess’s daughter invariably looks pretty--as “The Peacemaker” in Mr. -Marcus Stone’s picture. - -Beatrice Avon took no part in the _tableaux_--the other girls had not -absolutely insisted on her appearing beside them on the stage that had -been fitted up; they had an+ informal council together, Miss Craven -being stage-manager, and they had come to the conclusion that they could -get along very nicely without her assistance. - -Some of them said that Beatrice preferred flirting with the men. However -this may have been, the fact remained that Harold, when he had washed -the paint off his face--he had been the ill-tempered lover, Miss Craven -being the young woman with whom he was supposed to have quarrelled, -requiring the interposition of a sweet Peacemaker in the person of Miss -Innisfail--went round by a corridor to the back of the hall, and stood -for a few minutes behind a ‘portiere that took the place of a door at -one of the entrances. The hall was, of course, dimly lighted to make -the contrast with the stage the greater, so that he could not see the -features of the man who was sitting on the chair at the end of the row -nearest the _portiere_; but the applause that greeted a reproduction of -the picture of a monk shaving himself, having previously used no other -soap than was supplied by a particular maker, had scarcely died away -before Harold heard the voice of Edmund Airey say, in a low and earnest -tone, to someone who was seated beside him, “I do hope that before you -go away, you will let me know where you will next pitch your tent. I -don’t want to lose sight of you.” - -“If you wish I shall let you know when I learn it from my father,” was -the reply that Harold heard, clearly spoken in the voice of Beatrice -Avon. - -Harold went back into the billowy folds of the tapestry curtain, and -then into the corridor. The words that he had overheard had startled -him. Not merely were the words spoken by Edmund Airey the same as he -himself had employed a few days before to Beatrice, but her reply was -practically the same as the reply which she had made to him. - -When the last of the figurantes had disappeared from the stage, and when -the buzz of congratulations was sounding through the hall, now fully -lighted, Harold was nowhere to be seen. - -Only a few of the most earnest of the smokers were still in the hall -when, long past midnight, he appeared at the door leading to the outer -hall or porch. His shoes were muddy and his shirt front was pulpy, for -the night was a wet one. - -He explained to his astonished friends that it was invariably the case -that putting paint and other auxiliaries to “making up” on his face, -brought on a headache, which he had learned by experience could only be -banished by a long walk in the open air. - -Well, he had just had such a walk. - -He did not expect that his explanation would carry any weight with it; -and the way he was looked at by his friends made him aware of the fact -that, in giving them credit for more sense than to believe him, he was -doing them no more than the merest justice. - -No one who was present on his return placed the smallest amount -of credence in his story. What many of them did believe was of no -consequence. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII.--ON THE ATLANTIC. - -THE boats were scattered like milestones--as was stated by -Brian--through the sinuous length of Lough Suangorm. The cutter yacht -_Acushla_ was leading the fleet out to the Atlantic, with two reefs in -her mainsail, and although she towed a large punt, and was by no means -a fast boat, she had no difficulty in maintaining her place, the fact -being that the half-dozen boats that lumbered after her were mainly -fishing craft hailing from the village of Cairndhu, and, as all the -world knows, these are not built for speed but endurance. They are -half-decked and each carries a lug sail. One of the legends of the coast -is that when a lug sail is new its colour is brown, and as a new sail is -never seen at Cairndhu there are no means of finding out if the story -is true or false. The sails, as they exist, are kaleidoscopic in their -patchwork. It is understood that anything will serve as a patch for a -lug sail. Sometimes the centre-piece of an old coat has been used for -this purpose; but if so, it is only fair to state that it is on record -that the centre-piece of an old sail has been shaped into a jacket for -the ordinary wearing of a lad. - -The lug sail may yet find its way into a drawing room in Belgravia -and repose side by side with the workhouse sheeting which occupies an -honoured place in that apartment. - -On through the even waves that roll from between the headlands at the -entrance, to the little strand of pebbles at the end of the lough, the -boats lumbered. The sea and sky were equally gray, but now and again a -sudden gleam of sunshine would come from some unsuspected rift in the -motionless clouds, and fly along the crests of the waves, revealing a -green transparency for an instant, and then, flashing upon the sails, -make apparent every patch in their expanse, just as a flash of lightning -on a dark night reveals for a second every feature of a broad landscape. - -As the first vessel of the little fleet, pursuing an almost direct -course in spite of the curving of the shores of the Irish fjord, -approached one coast and then the other, the great rocks that appeared -snow-white, with only a dab of black here and there, became suddenly -all dark, and the air was filled with what seemed like snow flakes. The -cries of the innumerable sea birds, that whirled about the disturbing -boat before they settled and the rocks became gradually white once more, -had a remarkable effect when heard against that monotonous background, -so to speak, of rolling waves. - -The narrow lough was a gigantic organ pipe through which the mighty bass -of the Atlantic roared everlastingly. - -But when the headlands at the entrance were reached, the company who -sat on the weather side of the cutter _Acushla_ became aware of a -commingling of sounds. The organ voice of the lough only filled up the -intervals between the tremendous roar of the lion-throated waves that -sprang with an appalling force half way up the black faces of the sheer -cliffs, and broke in mid-air. All day long and all night long those -inexhaustible billows come rushing upon that coast; and watching them -and listening to them one feels how mean are contemporary politics as -well as other things. - -“That’s the Irish question,” remarked Lord Innisfail, who was steering -his own cutter. - -He nodded in the direction of the waves that were clambering up the -headlands. What he meant exactly he might have had difficulty in -explaining. - -“Very true, very true,” said Mr. Durdan, sagaciously, hoping to provoke -Mr. Airey to reply, and thinking it likely that he would learn from Mr. -Airey’s reply what was Lord Innisfail’s meaning. - -But Mr. Airey, who had long ago become acquainted with Mr. Durdan’s -political methods, did not feel it incumbent on him to make the attempt -to grapple with the question--if it was a question--suggested by Lord -Innisfail. - -The metaphor of a host should not, he knew, be considered too curiously. -Like the wit of a police-court magistrate, it should be accepted with -effusion. - -“Stand by that foresheet,” said Lord Innisfail to one of the yacht’s -hands. “We’ll heave to until the other craft come up.” - -In a few moments the cutter had all way off her, and was simply tumbling -about among the waves in a way that made some of the ship’s company hold -their breath and think longingly of pale brandy. - -The cruise of the _Acushla_ and the appearance of the fleet of boats -upon the lough were due to the untiring energy of Lady Innisfail and -to the fact that at last Brian, the boatman, had, by the help of Father -Conn, come to grasp something of the force of the phrase “local colour”. - -Lady Innisfail was anxious that her guests should carry away certain -definite impressions of their sojourn at the Connaught castle beyond -those that may be acquired at any country-house, which everyone knows -may be comprised in a very few words. A big shoot, and an incipient -scandal usually constitute the record of a country-house entertainment. -Now, it was not that Lady Innisfail objected to a big shoot or an -incipient scandal--she admitted that both were excellent in their own -way--but she hoped to do a great deal better for her guests. She hoped -to impart to their visit some local colour. - -She had hung on to the wake and the eviction, as has already been told, -with pertinacity. The _fête_ which she believed was known to the Irish -peasantry as the Cruiskeen, had certainly some distinctive features; -though just as she fancied that the Banshee was within her grasp, it had -vanished into something substantial--this was the way she described -the scene on the cliffs. Although her guests said they were very well -satisfied with what they had seen and heard, adding that they had come -to the conclusion that if the Irish had only a touch of humour they -would be true to the pictures that had been drawn of them, still Lady -Innisfail was not satisfied. - -Of course if Mr. Airey were to ask Miss Avon to marry him, her -house-party would be talked about during the winter. But she knew that -it is the marriages which do not come off that are talked about most; -and, after all, there is no local colour in marrying or giving in -marriage, and she yearned for local colour. Brian, after a time, came -to understand something of her ladyship’s yearnings. Like the priest and -the other inhabitants, he did not at first know what she wanted. - -It is difficult to impress upon Fuzzy-wuzzy that he would be regarded -as a person of distinction in the Strand and as an idol in Belgravia. -At his home in the Soudan he is a very commonplace sort of person. So -in the region of Lough Suangorm, but a casual interest attaches to the -caubeen, which in Piccadilly would be followed by admiring crowds, and -would possibly be dealt with in Evening Editions. - -But, as has just been said, Brian and his friends in due time came to -perceive the spectacular value to her ladyship’s guests of the most -commonplace things of the country; and it was this fact that induced -Brian to tell three stories of a very high colour to Mr. Airey and Mr. -Wynne. - -It was also his appreciation of her ladyship’s wants that caused him to -suggest to her the possibility of a seal-hunt constituting an element of -attraction--these were not the exact words employed by the boatman--to -some of her ladyship’s guests. - -It is scarcely necessary to say that Lady Innisfail was delighted -with the suggestion. Some of her guests pretended that they also were -delighted with it, though all that the majority wanted was to be -let alone. Still, upon the afternoon appointed for the seal-hunt a -considerable number of the Castle party went aboard the yacht. Beatrice -was one of the few girls who were of the party. Helen would have dearly -liked to go also; she would certainly have gone if she had not upon -one--only one--previous occasion allowed herself to be persuaded to sail -out to the headlands. She was wise enough not to imperil her prospects -for the sake of being drenched with sea water. - -She wondered--she did not exactly hope it--if it was possible for -Beatrice Avon to become seasick. - -This was how upon that gray afternoon, the fleet of boats sailed out to -where the yacht was thumping about among the tremendous waves beyond the -headlands that guard the entrance to Lough Suangorm. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV.--ON THE CHANCE. - -WHEN the fishing boats came within half a cable’s length of the cutter, -Lord Innisfail gave up the tiller to Brian, who was well qualified to be -the organizer of the expedition, having the reputation of being familiar -with the haunts and habits of the seals that may be found--by such as -know as much about them as Brian--among the great caves that pierce for -several miles the steep cliffs of the coast. - -The responsibility of steering a boat under the headlands, either North -or South, was not sought by Lord Innisfail. For perhaps three hundred -and fifty days in every year it would be impossible to approach the -cliffs in any craft; but as Brian took the tiller he gave a knowing -glance around the coast and assured his lordship that it was a jewel of -a day for a seal-hunt, and added that it was well that he had brought -only the largest of the fishing boats, for anything smaller would sink -with the weight of the catch of seals. - -He took in the slack of the main sheet and sent the cutter flying direct -to the Northern headland, the luggers following in her wake, though -scarcely preserving stations or distances with that rigorous naval -precision which occasionally sends an ironclad to the bottom. - -The man-of-war may run upon a reef, and the country may be called on -to pay half a million for the damage; but it can never be said that she -fails to maintain her station prescribed by the etiquette of the Royal -Navy in following the flagship, which shows that the British sailor, -wearing epaulettes, is as true as the steel that his ship is made of, -and a good deal truer than that of some of the guns which he is asked to -fire. - -In a short time the boats had cleared the headland, and it seemed to -some of the cutter’s company as if they were given an opportunity of -looking along the whole west coast of Ireland in a moment. Northward -and southward, like a study in perspective, the lines of indented cliffs -stretched until they dwindled away into the gray sky. The foam line that -was curved as it curled around the enormous rocks close at hand, was -straightened out in the distance and never quite disappeared. - -“Talk of the Great Wall of China,” said Lord Innisfail, pointing proudly -to the splendid chain of cliffs. “Talk of the Great Wall of China -indeed! What is it compared with that?” - -He spoke as proudly as if he owned everything within that line of -cliffs, though he thanked heaven every night that he only owned a few -thousand acres in Ireland. - -“What indeed--what indeed?” said Mr. Durdan. - -One of the men thought the moment opportune for airing a theory that -he had to the effect that the Great Wall of China was not built by the -Chinese to keep the surrounding nations out, but by the surrounding -nations to keep the Chinese in. - -It was a feasible theory, suggesting that the Chinese immigration -question existed among the Thibetans some thousands of years ago, to -quite as great an extent as it does in some other directions to-day. -But it requires to be a very strong theory to stand the strain of the -Atlantic waves and a practically unlimited view of the coast of Ireland. -So no discussion arose. - -Already upon some of the flat rocks at the entrance to the great caves -the black head of a seal might be seen. It did not remain long in -view, however. Brian had scarcely pointed it out with a whisper to such -persons as were near him, when it disappeared. - -“It’s the wary boys they are, to be sure!” he remarked confidentially. - -His boldness in steering among the rocks made some persons more than -usually thoughtful. Fortunately the majority of those aboard the cutter -knew nothing of his display of skill. They remained quite unaware of the -jagged rocks that the boat just cleared; and when he brought the craft -to the lee of a cliff, which formed a natural breakwater and a harbour -of ripples, none of these people seemed surprised. - -Lord Innisfail and a few yachtsmen who knew something of sailing, drew -long breaths. They knew what they had escaped. - -One of the hands got into the punt and took a line to the cliff to moor -the yacht when the sails had been lowered, and by the time that -the mooring was effected, the other boats had come into the natural -harbour--it would have given protection--that is, natural protection, -to a couple of ironclads--no power can protect them from their own -commanders. - -“Now, my lard,” said Brian, who seemed at last to realize his -responsibilities, “all we’ve got to do is to grab the craythurs; but -that same’s a caution. We’ll be at least an hour-and-a-half in the -caves, and as it will be cold work, and maybe wet work, maybe some of -their honours wouldn’t mind standing by the cutter.” - -The suggestion was heartily approved of by some of the yacht’s company. -Lady Innisfail said she was perfectly satisfied with such local colour -as was available without leaving the yacht, and it was understood that -Miss Avon would remain by her side. Mr. Airey said he thought he could -face with cheerfulness a scheme of existence that did not include -sitting with varying degrees of uneasiness in a small boat while other -men speared an inoffensive seal. - -“Such explanations are not for the Atlantic Ocean,” said Harold, -getting over the side of the yacht into the punt that Brian had hauled -close--Lord Innisfail was already in the bow. - -In a short time, by the skilful admiralship of Brian, the other boats, -which were brought up from the luggers, were manned, and their stations -were assigned to them, one being sent to explore a cave a short distance -off, while another was to remain at the entrance to pick up any seals -that might escape. The same plan was adopted in regard to the great -cave, the entrance to which was close to where the yacht was moored. -Brian arranged that his boat should enter the cave, while another, fully -manned, should stand by the rocks to capture the refugees. - -All the boats then started for their stations--all except the punt with -Brian at the yoke lines, Harold and Mr. Durdan in the stern sheets, one -of the hands at the paddles, and Lord Innisfail in the bows; for -when this craft was about to push off, Brian gave an exclamation of -discontent. - -“What’s the matter now?” asked Lord Innisfail. - -“Plenty’s the matter, my lard,” said Brian. “The sorra a bit of luck -we’ll have this day if we leave the ladies behind us.” - -“Then we must put up with bad luck,” said Lord Innisfail. “Go down on -your knees to her ladyship and ask her to come with us if you think that -will do any good.” - -“Oh, her ladyship would come without prayers if she meant to,” said -Brian. “But it’s Miss Avon that’s open to entreaty. For the love of -heaven and the encouragement of sport, step into the boat, Sheila, and -you’ll have something to talk about for the rest of your life.” - -Beatrice shook her head at the appeal, but that wouldn’t do for Brian. -“Look, my lady, look at her eyes, aren’t they just jumping out of her -head like young trout in a stream in May?” he cried to Lady Innisfail. -“Isn’t she waiting for you to say the word to let her come, an’ not a -word does any gentleman in the boat speak on her behalf.” - -The gentlemen remained dumb, but Lady Innisfail declared that if Miss -Avon was not afraid of a wetting and cared to go in the boat, there was -no reason why she should not do so. - -In another moment Beatrice had stepped into the punt and it had pushed -off with a cheer from Brian. The men in the other boats, now in the -distance, hearing the cheer, but without knowing why it arose, sent back -an answer that aroused the thousand echoes of the cliffs and the ten -thousand sea birds that arose in a cloud from every crevice of the -rocks. Thus it was that the approach of the boat to the great cave did -not take place in silence. - -Harold had not uttered a word. He had not even looked at Edmund Airey’s -face to see what expression it wore when Beatrice stepped into the boat. - -“Did you ever hear anything like Airey’s roundabout phrase about a -scheme of existence?” said Mr. Durdan. - -“It is his way of putting a simple matter,” said Harold. “You heard of -the man who, in order to soften down the fact that a girl had what are -colloquially known as beetle-crushers, wrote that her feet tended to -increase the mortality among coleoptera?” - -“I’m afraid that the days of the present government are numbered,” said -Mr. Durdan, who seemed to think that the remark was in logical sequence -with Harold’s story. - -Beatrice looked wonderingly at the speaker; it was some moments before -she found an echo in the expression on Harold’s face to what she felt. - -The man who could think of such things as the breaking up of a -government, when floating in thirty fathoms of green sea, beneath the -shadow of such cliffs as the boat was approaching, was a mystery to -the girl, though she was the daughter of one of the nineteenth century -historians, to whom nothing is a mystery. - -The boat entered the great cave without a word being spoken by any one -aboard, and in a few minutes it was being poled along in semi-darkness. -The lapping of the swell from the entrance against the sides of the -cave sounded on through the distance of the interior, and from those -mysterious depths came strange sounds of splashing water, of dropping -stalactites, and now and again a mighty sob of waves choked within a -narrow vent. - -Silently the boat was forced onward, and soon all light from the -entrance was obscured. Through total darkness the little craft crept for -nearly half a mile. - -Suddenly a blaze of light shot up with startling effect in the bows of -the boat. It only came from a candle that Brian had lit: but its -gleam was reflected in millions of stalactites into what seemed an -interminable distance--millions of stalactites on the roof and the -walls, and millions of ripples beneath gave back the gleam, until the -boat appeared to be the centre of a vast illumination. - -The dark shadows of the men who were using the oars as poles, danced -about the brilliant roof and floor of the cave, adding to the fantastic -charm of the scene. - -“Now,” said Brian, in a whisper, “these craythurs don’t understand -anything that’s said to them unless by a human being, so we’ll need -to be silent enough. We’ll be at the first ledge soon, and there maybe -you’ll wait with the lady, Mr. Wynne--you’re heavier than Mr. Durdan, -and every inch of water that the boat draws is worth thinking about. -I’ll leave a candle with you, but not a word must you speak.” - -“All right,” said Harold. “You’re the manager of the expedition; we must -obey you; but I don’t exactly see where my share in the sport comes in.” - -“I’d explain it all if I could trust myself to speak,” said Brian. -“The craythurs has ears.” The ledge referred to by him was reached in -silence. It was perhaps six inches above the water, and in an emergency -it might have afforded standing room for three persons. So much Harold -saw by the light of the candle that the boatman placed in a niche of -rock four feet above the water. - -At a sign from Brian, Harold got upon the ledge and helped Beatrice out -of the boat. - -The light of the candle that was in the bow of the boat gleamed upon the -figure of a man naked from the waist up, and wearing a hard round hat -with a candle fastened to the brim. - -Harold knew that this was the costume of the seal-hunter of the Western -caves, for he had had a talk with Brian on the subject, and had learned -that only by swimming with a lighted candle on his forehead for a -quarter of a mile, the hunter could reach the sealing ground at the -termination of the cave. - -Without a word being spoken, the boat went on, and its light soon -glimmered mysteriously in the distance. - -Harold and Beatrice stood side by side on the narrow ledge of rock and -watched the dwindling of the light. The candle that was on the niche of -rock almost beside them seemed dwindling also. It had become the merest -spark. Harold saw that Brian had inadvertently placed it so that the -dripping of the water from the roof sent flecks of damp upon the wick. - -He stretched out his hand to shift it to another place, but before -he could touch it, a large stalactite dropped upon it, and not only -extinguished it, but sent it into the water with a splash. - -The little cry that came from the girl as the blackness of darkness -closed upon them, sounded to his ears as a reproach. - -“I had not touched it,” said he. “Something dropped from the roof upon -it. You don’t mind the darkness?” - -“Oh, no--no,” said she, doubtfully. “But we were commanded to be dumb.” - -“That command was given on the assumption that the candle would continue -burning--now the conditions are changed,” said he, with a sophistry that -would have done credit to a cabinet minister. - -“Oh,” said she. - -There was a considerable pause before she asked him how long he thought -it would be before the boat would return. - -He declined to bind himself to any expression of opinion on the subject. - -Then there was another pause, filled up only by the splash of something -falling from the roof--by the wash of the water against the smooth rock. - -“I wonder how it has come about that I am given a chance of speaking to -you at last?” said he. - -“At last?” said she, repeating his words in the same tone of inquiry. - -“I say at last, because I have been waiting for such an opportunity for -some time, but it did not come. I don’t suppose I was clever enough to -make my opportunity, but now it has come, thank God.” - -Again there was silence. He seemed to think that he had said something -requiring a reply from her, but she did not speak. - -“I wonder if you would believe me when I say that I love you,” he -remarked. - -“Yes,” she replied, as naturally as though he had asked her what she -thought of the weather. “Yes, I think I would believe you. If you did -not love me--if I was not sure that you loved me, I should be the most -miserable girl in all the world.” - -“Great God!” he cried. “You do not mean to say that you love me, -Beatrice?” - -“If you could only see my face now, you would know it,” said she. “My -eyes would tell you all--no, not all--that is in my heart.” - -He caught her hands, after first grasping a few handfuls of clammy rock, -for the hands of the truest lovers do not meet mechanically. - -“I see them,” he whispered--“I see your eyes through the darkness. My -love, my love!” - -He did not kiss her. His soul revolted from the idea of the commonplace -kiss in the friendly secrecy of the darkness. - -There are opportunities and opportunities. He believed that if he had -kissed her then she would never have forgiven him, and he was right. -“What a fool I was!” he cried. “Two nights ago, when I overheard a man -tell you, as I had told you long ago--so long ago--more than a week -ago--that he did not want you to pass out of his sight--when I heard you -make the same promise to him as you had made to me, I felt as if there -was nothing left for me in the world. I went out into the darkness, and -as I stood at the place when I first saw you, I thought that I should be -doing well if I were to throw myself headlong down those rocks into the -sea that the rain was beating upon. Beatrice, God only knows if it would -be better or worse for you if I had thrown myself down--if I were to -leave you standing alone here now.” - -“Do not say those words--they are like the words I asked you before -not to say. Even then your words meant everything to me. They mean -everything to me still.” - -He gave a little laugh. Triumph rang through it. He did not seem to -think that his laughter might sound incongruous to her. - -“This is my hour,” he said. “Whatever fate may have in store for me it -cannot make me unlive this hour. And to think that I had got no idea -that such an hour should ever come to me--that you should ever come to -me, my beloved! But you came to me. You came to me when I had tried to -bring myself to feel that there was something worth living for in the -world apart from love.” - -“And now?” - -“And now--and now--now I know that there is nothing but love that is -worth living for. What is your thought, Beatrice--tell me all that is in -your heart?” - -“All--all?” She now gave the same little laugh that he had given. She -felt that her turn had come. - -She gave just the same laugh when his feeling of triumph had given -place to a very different feeling--when he had told her that he was a -pauper--that he had no position in the world--that he was dependent upon -his father for every penny that he had to spend, with the exception of -a few hundred pounds a year, which he inherited from his mother--that it -was an act of baseness on his part to tell her that he loved her. - -He had plenty of time for telling her all this, and for explaining his -position thoroughly, for nearly an hour had passed before a gleam of -light and a hail from the furthest recesses of the cave, made them aware -of the fact that other interests than theirs existed in the world. - -And yet when he had told her all that he had to tell to his -disadvantage, she gave that little laugh of triumph. He would have given -a good deal to be able to see the expression which he knew was in those -wonderful eyes of hers, as that laugh came from her. - -Not being able to do so, however, he could only crush her hands against -his lips and reply to the boat’s hail. - -Brian, on hearing of the mishap to the candle, delivered a torrent of -execration against himself. It took Harold some minutes to bring -himself up to the point of Lord Innisfail’s enthusiasm on the subject of -seal-fishing. Five excellent specimens were in the bottom of the boat, -and the men who had swum after them were there also. A strong odour of -whiskey was about them; and the general idea that prevailed was that -they would not suffer from a chill, though they had been in the water -for three quarters of an hour. - -As the other boats only succeeded in capturing three seals among them -all, Brian had statistics to bear out his contention that the presence -of Beatrice had brought luck to his boat. - -He pocketed two sovereigns which Harold handed him when the boats -returned to the mooring-place, and he was more profuse than ever in his -abuse of his own stupidity in placing the candle so as to be affected by -the damp from the roof. - -His eyes twinkled all the time in a way that made Harold’s cheeks red. - -The judge found Miss Avon somewhat _distraite_ after dinner that -night. He became pensive in consequence. He wondered if she thought him -elderly. - -He did not mind in the least growing old, but the idea of being thought -elderly was abhorrent to him. - -The next day Beatrice and her father returned to their cottage at the -other side of the lough. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV.--ON THE SOCIAL VALUE OF THE REPROBATE. - - -SOMETHING remarkable had occurred. Lord Fotheringay had been for a -fortnight under one roof without disgracing himself. - -The charitable people said he was reforming. - -The others said he was aging rapidly. - -The fact remained the same, however: he had been a fortnight at the -Castle and he had not yet disgraced himself. - -Mrs. Burgoyne congratulated Lady Innisfail upon this remarkable -occurrence, and Lady Innisfail began to hope that it might get talked -about. If her autumn party at Castle Innisfail were to be talked about -in connection with the reform of Lord Fotheringay, much more interest -would be attached to the party and the Castle than would be the result -of the publication of the statistics of a gigantic shoot. Gigantic -shoots did undoubtedly take place on the Innisfail Irish property, but -they invariably took place before the arrival of Lord Innisfail and his -guests, and the statistics were, for obvious reasons, not published. -They only leaked out now and again. - -The most commonplace people might enjoy the reputation attaching to the -careful preservation and the indiscriminate slaughter of game; but Lady -Innisfail knew that the distinction accruing from a connection with -a social scandal of a really high order, or with a great social -reform--either as regards a hardened reprobate or an afternoon -toilet--was something much greater. - -Of course, she understood perfectly well that in England the Divorce -Court is the natural and legitimate medium for attaining distinction in -the form of a Special Edition and a pen and ink portrait; but she had -seen great things accomplished by the rumour of an unfair game of cards, -as well as by a very daring skirt dance. - -Next to a high-class scandal, the discovery of a new religion was -a means of reaching eminence, she knew. With the exact social value -attaching to the Reform of a Hardened Reprobate, she was as yet -unacquainted, the fact being that she had never had any experience of -such an incident--it was certainly very rare in the society in which she -moved, so that it is not surprising that she was not prepared to say at -a moment how much it would count in the estimation of the world. - -But if the Reform of a Reprobate--especially a reprobate with a -title--was so rare as to be uncatalogued, so to speak, surely it should -be of exceptional value as a social incident. Should it not partake of -the prestige which attaches to a rare occurrence? - -This was the way that Mrs. Burgoyne put the matter to her friend and -hostess, and her friend and hostess was clever enough to appreciate -the force of her phrases. She began to perceive that although Lord -Fotheringay had come to the Castle on the slenderest of invitations, -and simply because it suited his purpose--although she had been greatly -annoyed at his sudden appearance at the Castle, still good might come of -it. - -She did not venture to estimate from the standpoint of the moralist, the -advantages accruing to the Reformed Reprobate himself from the incident -of his reform, she merely looked at the matter from the standpoint of -the woman of society--which is something quite different--desirous of -attaining a certain social distinction. - -Thus it was that Lady Innisfail took to herself the credit of the -Reform of the Reprobate, and petted the reprobate accordingly, giving no -attention whatever to the affairs of his son. These affairs, interesting -though they had been to her some time before, now became insignificant -compared with the Great Reform. - -She even went the length of submitting to be confided in by Lord -Fotheringay; and she heard, with genuine interest, from his own lips -that he considered the world in general to be hollow. He had found it -so. He had sounded the depths of its hollowness. He had found that in -all grades of society there was much evil. The working classes--he -had studied the question of the working man not as a parliamentary -candidate, consequently honestly--drank too much beer. They sought -happiness through the agency of beer; but all the beer produced by -all the brewers in the House of Lords would not bring happiness to the -working classes. As for the higher grades of society--the people who -were guilty of partaking of unearned increment--well, they were wrong -too. He thought it unnecessary to give the particulars of the avenues -through which they sought happiness. But they were all wrong. The -domestic life--there, and there only, might one find the elements -of true happiness. He knew this because he had endeavoured to reach -happiness by every other avenue and had failed in his endeavours. He -now meant to supply his omission, and he regretted that it had never -occurred to him to do so before. Yes, some poet or other had written -something or other on the subject of the great charm of a life of -domesticity, and Lord Fotheringay assured Lady Innisfail in confidence -that that poet was right. - -Lady Innisfail sighed and said that the Home--the English Home--with its -simple pleasures and innocent mirth, was where the Heart--the English -Heart--was born. What happiness was within the reach of all if they -would only be content with the Home! Society might be all very well in -its way. There were duties to be discharged--every rank in life carried -its duties with it; but how sweet it was, after one had discharged one’s -social obligations, to find a solace in the retirement of Home. - -Lord Fotheringay lifted up his hands and said “Ah--ah,” in different -cadences. - -Lady Innisfail folded her hands and shook her head with some degree of -solemnity. She felt confident that if Lord Fotheringay was in earnest, -her autumn party would be talked about with an enthusiasm surpassing -that which would attach to the comments on any of the big shoots in -Scotland, or in Yorkshire, or in Wales. - -But when Lord Fotheringay had an opportunity of conversing alone with -Mr. Airey, he did not think it necessary to dwell upon the delights -which he had begun to perceive might be found in a life of pure -domesticity. He took the liberty of reminding Mr. Airey of the -conversation they had on the morning after Miss Avon’s arrival at the -Castle. - -“Had we a conversation then, Lord Fotheringay?” said Mr. Airey, in a -tone that gave Lord Fotheringay to understand that if any contentious -point was about to be discussed, it would rest with him to prove -everything. - -“Yes, we had a conversation,” said Lord Fotheringay. “I was foolish -enough to make a confidant of you.” - -“If you did so, you certainly were foolish,” said Edmund, quietly. - -“I have been keeping my eyes open and my ears open as well, during the -past ten days,” said Lord Fotheringay, with a leer that was meant to be -significant. Edmund Airey, however, only took it to signify that Lord -Fotheringay could easily be put into a very bad temper. He said nothing, -but allowed Lord Fotheringay to continue. “Yes, let me tell you that -when I keep both eyes and ears open not much escapes me. I have seen and -heard a good deal. You are a clever sort of person, friend Airey; but -you don’t know the world as I know it.” - -“No, no--as you know it--ah, no,” remarked Mr. Airey. - -Lord Fotheringay was a trifle put out by the irritating way in which the -words were spoken. Still, the pause he made was not of long duration. - -“You have your game to play, like other people, I suppose,” he resumed, -after the little pause. - -“You are at liberty to suppose anything you please, my dear Lord -Fotheringay,” said Mr. Airey, with a smile. - -“Come,” said Lord Fotheringay, adopting quite another tone. “Come, -Airey, speaking as man to man, wasn’t it a confoundedly shabby trick for -you to play upon me--getting me to tell you that I meant to marry that -young thing--to save her from unhappiness, Airey?” - -“Well?” said Airey. - -“Well?” said Lord Fotheringay. - -“You didn’t complete your sentence. Was the shabby trick accepting your -confidence?” - -“The shabby trick was trying to win the affection of the young woman -after I had declared to you my intention.” - -“That was the shabby trick, was it?” - -“I have no hesitation in saying that it was.” - -“Very well. I hope that you have nothing more to confide in me beside -this--your confidences have so far been singularly uninteresting.” - -Lord Fotheringay got really angry. - -“Let me tell you--” he began, but he was stopped by Airey. - -“No, I decline to let you tell me anything,” said he. “You accused -me just now of being so foolish as to listen to your confidences. I, -perhaps, deserved the reproach. But I should be a fool if I were to give -you another chance of levelling the same accusation against me. You will -have to force your confidences on someone else in future, unless such as -concern your liver. You confided in me that your liver wasn’t quite the -thing. How is it to-day?” - -“I understand your tactics,” said Lord Fotheringay, with a snap. “And -I’ll take good care to make others acquainted with them also,” he added. -“Oh, no, Mr. Airey; I wasn’t born yesterday.” - -“To that fact every Peerage in the kingdom bears testimony,” said Mr. -Airey. - -Lord Fotheringay had neglected his cigar. It had gone out. He now took -three or four violent puffs at it; he snapped it from between his teeth, -looked at the end, and then dropped it on the ground and stamped on it. - -“It was your own fault,” said Airey. “Try one of mine, and don’t bother -yourself with other matters.” - -“I’ll bother myself with what I please,” said Lord Fotheringay with a -snarl. - -But he took Mr. Airey’s cigar, and smoked it to the end. He knew that -Mr. Airey smoked Carolinas. - -This little scene took place outside the Castle before lunch on the -second day after the departure of Mr. Avon and his daughter; and, after -lunch, Lord Fotheringay put on a yachting jacket and cap, and announced -his intention of having a stroll along the cliffs. His doctor had long -ago assured him, he said, that he did not take sufficient exercise nor -did he breathe enough fresh air. He meant in future to put himself on a -strict regimen in this respect, and would begin at once. - -He was allowed to carry out his intention alone--indeed he did not -hint that his medical adviser had suggested company as essential to the -success of any scheme of open air exercise. - -The day was a breezy one, and the full force of the wind was felt at the -summit of the cliff coast; but like many other gentlemen who dread being -thought elderly, he was glad to seize every opportunity of showing that -he was as athletic as the best of the young fellows; so he strode along, -gasping and blowing with quite as much fresh air in his face as the most -exacting physician could possibly have prescribed for a single dose. - -He made his way to the mooring-place of the boats, and he found Brian in -the boat-house engaged in making everything snug. - -He was very civil to Brian, and after a transfer of coin, inquired about -the weather. - -There was a bit of a draught of wind in the lough, Brian said, but it -was a fine day for a sail. Would his lardship have a mind for a bit of -a sail? The _Acushla_ was cruising, but the _Mavourneen_, a neat little -craft that sailed like a swallow, was at his lardship’s service. - -After some little consideration, Lord Fotheringay said that though -he had no idea of sailing when he left the Castle, yet he never could -resist the temptation of a fine breeze--it was nothing stronger than a -breeze that was blowing, was it? - -“A draught--just a bit of a draught,” said the man. - -“In that case,” said Lord Fotheringay, “I think I may venture. In fact, -now that I come to think of it, I should like to visit the opposite -shore. There is a Castle or something, is there not, on the opposite -shore?” - -“Is it a Castle?” said Brian. “Oh, there’s a power of Castles scattered -along the other shore, my lard. It’s thrippin’ over them your lardship -will be after doin.’” - -“Then we’ll not lose a moment in starting,” said Lord Fotheringay. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI.--ON FRANKNESS AND FRIENDSHIP. - -BRIAN took care that no moment was lost. In the course of a very few -minutes Lord Fotheringay was seated on the windward thwarts of the boat, -his hands grasping the gunwale to right and left, and his head bowed -to mitigate in some measure the force of the shower of sea-water that -flashed over the boat as her hows neatly clipped the crest off every -wave. - -Lord Fotheringay held on grimly. He hated the sea and all connected with -it; though he hated the House of Lords to almost as great an extent, yet -he had offered the promoter of the Channel Tunnel to attend in the House -and lend the moral weight of his name to the support of the scheme. It -was only the breadth and spontaneousness of Brian’s assurance that the -breeze was no more than a draught, that had induced him to carry out his -cherished idea of crossing the lough. - -“Didn’t I tell your lardship that the boat could sail with the best of -them?” said the man, as he hauled in the sheet a trifle, and brought -the boat closer to the wind--a manouvre that did not tend to lessen the -cascade that deluged his passenger. - -Lord Fotheringay said not a word. He kept his head bowed to every flap -of the waves beneath the bows. His attitude would have commended itself -to any painter anxious to produce a type of Submission to the Will of -Heaven. - -He was aging quickly--so much Brian perceived, and dwelt upon--with -excellent effect--in his subsequent narrative of the voyage to some -of the servants at the Castle. The cosmetic that will withstand the -constant application of sea-water has yet to be invented, so that in -half an hour Lord Fotheringay would not have been recognized except by -his valet. Brian had taken aboard a well-preserved gentleman with a rosy -complexion and a moustache almost too black for nature. The person who -disembarked at the opposite side of the lough was a stooped old man with -lank streaky cheeks and a wisp of gray hair on each side of his upper -lip. - -“And it’s a fine sailor your lardship is entirely,” remarked the -boatman, as he lent his tottering, dazed passenger a helping hand up the -beach of pebbles. “And it’s raal enjoyment your lardship will be after -having among the Castles of the ould quality, after your lardship’s -sail.” - -Not a word did Lord Fotheringay utter. He felt utterly broken down in -spirit, and it was not until he had got behind a rock and had taken out -a pocket-comb and a pocket-glass, and had by these auxiliaries, and the -application of a grain or two of roseate powder without which he never -ventured a mile from his base of supplies, repaired some of the ravages -of his voyage, that he ventured to make his way to the picturesque white -cottage, which Miss Avon had once pointed out to him as the temporary -residence of her father and herself. - -It was a five-roomed cottage that had been built and furnished by an -enthusiastic English fisherman for his accommodation during his annual -residence in Ireland. One, more glance did Lord Fotheringay give to his -pocket-mirror before knocking at the door. - -He would have had time to renew his youth, had he had his pigments -handy, before the door was opened by an old woman with a shawl over -her shoulders and a cap, that had possibly once been white, on her -straggling hairs. - -She made the stage courtesy of an old woman in front of Lord -Fotheringay, and explained that she was a little hard of hearing--she -was even obliging enough to give a circumstantial account of the -accident that was responsible for her infirmity. - -“Miss Avon?” said the old woman, when Lord Fotheringay had repeated -his original request in a louder tone. “Miss Avon? no, she’s not here -now--not even her father, who was a jewel of a gentleman, though a bit -queer. God bless them both now that they have gone back to England, -maybe never to return.” - -“Back to England. When?” shouted Lord Fotheringay. - -“Why, since early in the morning. The Blessed Virgin keep the young -lady from harm, for she’s swater than honey, and the Saints preserve her -father, for he was--” - -Lord Fotheringay did not wait to hear the position of the historian -defined by the old woman. He turned away from the door with such words -as caused her infirmity to be a blessing in disguise. - -When Brian greeted his return with a few well-chosen phrases bearing -upon the architecture of the early Celtic nobles, Lord Fotheringay swore -at him; but the boatman, who did a little in that way himself when under -extreme provocation, only smiled as Lord Fotheringay took his seat in -the boat once more, and prepared for the ordeal of his passage. - -There was a good deal in Brian’s smile. - -The wind had changed most unaccountably, he explained, so that it would, -he feared, be absolutely necessary to tack out almost to the entrance -of the lough in order to reach the mooring-place. For the next hour -he became the exponent of every system of sailing known to modern -navigators. After something over an hour of this manoeuvring, he had -compassion upon his victim, and ran the boat before the wind--he might -have done so at first if Lord Fotheringay had not shown such a poor -knowledge of men as to swear at him--to the mooring-place. - -“If it’s not making too free with your lardship, I’d offer your lardship -a hand up the track,” said Brian. “It’s myself that has to go up to the -Castle anyway, with a letter to her ladyship from Miss Avon. Didn’t -the young lady give it to me in the morning before she started with his -honour her father on the car?” - -“And you knew all this time that Miss Avon and her father had left the -neighbourhood?” said Lord Fotheringay, through his store teeth. - -“Tubbe sure I did,” said Brian. “But Miss Avon didn’t live in one of the -Castles of the ould quality that your lardship was so particular ready -to explore.” - -Lord Fotheringay felt that his knowledge of the world and the dwellers -therein had its limits. - -It was at Lord Fotheringay’s bedside that Harold said his farewell to -his father the next day. Lord Fotheringay’s incipient rheumatism had -been acutely developed by his drenching of the previous afternoon, and -he thought it prudent to remain in bed. - -“You’re going, are you?” snarled the Father. - -“Yes, I’m going,” replied the Son. “Lord and Lady Innisfail leave -to-morrow.” - -“Have you asked Miss Craven to marry you?” inquired the Father. - -“No,” said Harold. - -“Why not--tell me that?” - -“I haven’t made up my mind on the subject of marrying.” - -“Then the sooner you make it up the better it will be for yourself. I’ve -been watching you pretty closely for some days--I did not fail to notice -a certain jaunty indifference to what was going on around you on the -night of your return from that tomfoolery in the boats--seal-hunting, -I think they called it. I saw the way you looked at Helen Craven that -night. Contempt, or something akin to contempt, was in every glance. Now -you know that she is to be at Ella’s in October. You have thus six weeks -to make up your mind to marry her. If you make up your mind to marry -anyone else, you may make up your mind to live upon the three hundred a -year that your mother left you. Not a penny you will get from me. I’ve -stinted myself hitherto to secure you your allowance. By heavens, I’ll -not do so any longer. You will only receive your allowance from me for -another year, and then only by signing a declaration at my lawyer’s to -the effect that you are not married. I’ve heard of secret marriages -before now, but you needn’t think of that little game. That’s all I’ve -to say to you.” - -“And it is enough,” said Harold. “Good-bye.” He left the room and then -he left the Castle, Lady Innisfail only shaking her head and whispering, -“You have disappointed me,” as he made his adieux. - -The next day all the guests had departed--all, with the exception of -Lord Fotheringay, who was still too ill to move. In the course of some -days, however, the doctor thought that he might without risk--except, of -course, such as was incidental to the conveyance itself--face a drive on -an outside car, to the nearest railway-station. - -Before leaving him, as she was compelled to do owing to her own -engagements, Lady Innisfail had another interesting conversation--it -almost amounted to a consultation--with her friend Mrs. Burgoyne on the -subject of the Reform of the Hardened Reprobate. And the result of -their further consideration of the subject from every standpoint, was -to induce them to believe that, with such a powerful incentive to the -Higher Life as an acute rheumatic attack, Lord Fotheringay’s reform -might safely be counted on. It might, at any rate, be freely discussed -during the winter. If, subsequently, he should become a backslider, it -would not matter. His reform would have gone the way of all topics. - -Helen Craven and Edmund Airey had also a consultation together on the -subject upon which they had previously talked more than once. - -Each of them showed such an anxiety to give prominence to the -circumstance that they were actuated solely for Harold’s benefit in -putting into practice the plan which one of them had suggested, it was -pretty clear that they had an uneasy feeling that they required some -justification for the course which they had thought well to pursue. - -Yes, they agreed that Harold should be placed beyond the power of his -father. Mr. Airey said he had never met a more contemptible person than -Lord Fotheringay, and for the sake of making Harold independent of such -a father, he would, he declared, do again all that he had done during -the week of Miss Avon’s sojourn at the Castle. - -It was, indeed, sad, Miss Craven felt, that Harold should have such a -father. - -“Perhaps it was because I felt this so strongly that I--I--well, I began -to ask myself if there might not be some way of escape for him,” said -she, in a pensive tone that was quite different from the tone of the -frank communication that she had made to Mr. Airey some time before. - -“I can quite understand that,” said Edmund. “Well, though Harold hasn’t -shown himself to be wise--that is--” - -“We both know what that means,” said she, anticipating his definition of -wisdom so far as Harold was concerned. - -“We do,” said Edmund. “If he has not shown himself to be wise in this -way, he has not shown himself to be a fool in another way.” - -“I suppose he has not,” said she, thoughtfully. - -“Great heavens! you don’t mean to think that--” - -“That he has told Beatrice Avon that he loves her? No, I don’t fancy -that he has, still--” - -“Still?” - -“Well, I thought that, on their return from that awful seal-hunt, I saw -a change in both of them. It seemed to me that--that--well, I don’t -quite know how I should express it. Haven’t you seen a thirsty look on a -man’s face?” - -“A thirsty look? I believe I have seen it on a woman’s face.” - -“It may be the same. Well, Harold Wynne’s face wore such an expression -for days before the seal-hunt--I can’t say that I noticed it on Beatrice -Avon’s face at the same time; but so soon as they returned from the -boats on that evening, I noticed the change on Harold’s--perhaps it was -only fancy.” - -“I am inclined to believe that it was fancy. In my belief none of us was -quite the same after that wild cruise. I was beside Miss Avon all the -time that we were sailing out to the caves, and though she and Harold -were in the boat together, yet Lord Innisfail and Durdan were in the -same boat also. I can’t see how they could have had any time for an -understanding while they were engaged in looking after the seals.” - -Miss Craven shook her head doubtfully. It was clear that she was a -believer in the making of opportunities in such matters as those which -they were discussing. - -“Anyhow, we have done all that we could reasonably be expected to do,” - said she. - -“And perhaps a trifle over,” said he. “If it were not that I like Harold -so much--and you, too, my dear”--this seemed an afterthought--“I would -not have done all that I have done. It is quite unlikely that Miss Avon -and I shall be under the same roof again, but if we should be, I shall, -you may be certain, find out from her whether or not an understanding -exists between her and Harold. But what understanding could it be?” - -Miss Craven smiled. Was this the man who had made such a reputation -for cleverness, she asked herself--a man who placed a limit on the -opportunities of lovers, and then inquired what possible understanding -could be come to between a penniless man and a girl with “a gray eye or -so.” - -“What understanding?” said she. “Why, he may have unfolded to her a -scheme for becoming Lord High Chancellor after two year’s hard work at -the bar, with a garden-party now and again; or for being made a Bishop -in the same time; and their understanding may be to wait for one another -until the arrival of either event. Never mind. We have done our best for -him.” - -“For them,” said Edmund. - -Yes, he tried to bring himself to believe that all that he had done was -for the benefit of his friend Harold and for his friend Beatrice--to say -nothing of his friend Helen as well. After a time he did almost -force himself to believe that there was nothing that was not strictly -honourable in the endeavour that he had made, at Helen’s suggestion, -to induce Beatrice Avon to perceive the possibility of her obtaining a -proposal of marriage from a rich and distinguished man, if she were -only to decline to afford the impecunious son of a dissolute peer an -opportunity of telling her that he loved her. - -Now and again, however, he had an uneasy twinge, as the thought occurred -to him that if some man, understanding the exact circumstances of the -case, were to be as frank with him as Helen Craven had been (once), -that man might perhaps be led to say that he had been making a fool of -Beatrice for the sake of gratifying his own vanity. - -It was just possible, and he knew it, that that frank friend--assuming -that frankness and friendship may exist together--might be disposed -to give prominence in this matter to the impulses of vanity, to the -exclusion of the impulses of friendship, and a desire to set the crooked -straight. - -Even the fortnight which he spent in Norway with one of the heads of -the Government party--a gentleman who would probably have shortly at his -disposal an important Under-Secretaryship--failed quite to abate these -little twinges that he had when he reflected upon the direction that -might be taken by a frank friend, in considering the question of the -responsibility involved in his attitude toward Miss Avon. - -It was just a week after Lord Fotheringay had left Castle Innisfail that -a stranger appeared in the neighbourhood--a strange gentleman with the -darkest hair and the fiercest eyes ever seen, even in that region of -dark hair and eyes. He inquired who were the guests at the Castle, and -when he learned that the last of them--a distinguished peer named Lord -Fotheringay--had gone some time, and that it was extremely unlikely that -the Castle would be open for another ten months, his eyes became -fiercer than ever. He made use of words in a strange tongue, which Brian -declared, if not oaths, would do duty for oaths without anyone being the -wiser. - -The stranger departed as mysteriously as he had come. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII.--ON CIRCUMVENTING A STAG. - -IF Edmund Airey had a good deal to think about in Norway, Harold Wynne -was certainly not without a subject for thought in Scotland. - -It was with a feeling of exultation that he had sat in the bows of the -cutter _Acushla_ on her return to her moorings after that seal-hunt -which everyone agreed had been an extraordinary success. Had this -expression of exultation been noticed by Lady Innisfail, it would, -naturally, have been attributed by her to the fact that he had been -in the boat that had made the largest catch of seals. To be sure, Miss -Craven, who had observed at least a change in the expression upon his -face, did not attribute it to his gratification on having slaughtered -some seals, but then Miss Craven was more acute than an ordinary -observer. - -He felt that he did well to be exultant, as he looked at Beatrice Avon -standing by the side of Lord Innisfail at the tiller. The wind that -filled the mainsail came upon her face and held her garments against her -body, revealing every gracious curve of her shape, and suggesting to his -eyes a fine piece of sculpture with flying drapery. - -And she was his. - -It seemed to him when he had begun to speak to her in the solemn -darkness of the seal-cave, that it was impossible that he could receive -any answer from her that would satisfy him. How was it possible that she -could love him, he had asked himself at some agonizing moments during -the week. He thought that she might possibly have come to love him in -time, if she had not been with him in the boat during that night of -mist, when the voice of Helen Craven had wailed round the cliffs. Her -arrival at the Castle could not but have revealed to her the fact that -she might obtain an offer of marriage from someone who was socially far -above him; and thus he had almost lost all hope of her. - -And yet she was his. - -The course adopted by his friend Edmund Airey had astonished him. He -could not believe that Airey had fallen in love with her. It was not -consistent with Airey’s nature to fall in love with anyone, he believed. -But he knew that in the matter of falling in love, people do not always -act consistently with their character; so that, after all, Airey might -be only waiting an opportunity to tell her that he had fallen in love -with her. - -The words that he had overheard Airey speak to her upon the night of the -_tableaux_ in the hall--words that had driven him out into the night of -rain and storm to walk madly along the cliffs, and to wonder if he were -to throw himself into the waves beneath, would he be strong enough to -let himself sink into their depths or weak enough to make a struggle for -life--those words had cleared away whatever doubts he had entertained as -to Edmund’s intentions. - -And yet she was his. - -She had answered his question so simply and clearly--with such -earnestness and tenderness as startled him. It seemed that they had -come to love each other, as he had read of lovers doing, from the first -moment that they had met. It seemed that her love had, like his, only -increased through their being kept apart from each other--mainly by -the clever device of Miss Craven and the co-operation of Edmund Airey, -though, of course, Harold did not know this. - -His reflections upon this marvel--the increase of their love, though -they had few opportunities of being together and alone--would have been -instructive even to persons so astute and so ready to undertake the -general control of events as Mr. Airey and Miss Craven. Unfortunately, -however, they were as ignorant of what had taken place to induce these -reflections as he was of the conspiracy between them to keep him apart -from Beatrice to secure his happiness and the happiness of Beatrice. - -The fact that Beatrice loved him and had confessed her love for him, -though they had had so few opportunities of being together, seemed to -him the greatest of all the marvels that he had recently experienced. - -As he gave a farewell glance at the lough and recollected how, a -fortnight before, he had walked along the cliffs and had cast to the -winds all his cherished ideas of love, he could not help feeling that -he had been surrounded with marvels. He had had a narrow escape--he -actually regarded a goodlooking young woman with several thousands of -pounds of an income, as a narrow escape. - -This was the last of the reflections that came to him with the sound of -the green seas choked in the narrows of the lough. - -The necessity of preserving himself from sudden death--the Irish -outside car on which he was driving was the worst specimen he had yet -seen--absorbed all his thoughts when he had passed through the village -of Ballycruiskeen; and by the time he had got out of the train that -carried him to the East Coast--a matter of six hours travelling--and -aboard the steamer that bore him to Glasgow, the exultation that he -had felt on leaving Castle Innisfail, and on reflecting upon the great -happiness that had come to him, was considerably chastened. - -He was due at two houses in Scotland. At the first he meant to do -a little shooting. The place was not inaccessible. After a day’s -travelling he found himself at a railway station fifteen miles from his -destination. He eventually reached the place, however, and he had some -shooting, which, though indifferent, was far better than it was possible -to obtain on Lord Innisfail’s mountains--at least for Lord Innisfail’s -guests to obtain. - -The second place was still further north--it was now and again alluded -to as the North Pole by some visitors who had succeeded in finding -their way to it, in spite of the directions given to them by the various -authorities on the topography of the Highlands. Several theories -existed as to the best way of reaching this place, and Harold, who -knew sufficient Scotch to be able to take in the general meaning of the -inhabitants without the aid of an interpreter, was made aware while -at the shooting lodge, of these theories. Hearing, however, that some -persons had actually been known to find the place, he felt certain -that they had struck out an independent course for themselves. It was -incredible to him that any of them had reached it by following the -directions they had received on the subject. He determined to follow -their example; and he had reached the place--eventually. - -It was when he had been for three days following a stag, that he began -to think of his own matters in a dispassioned way. Crawling on one’s -stomach along a mile or two of boggy land and then wriggling through -narrow spaces among the rocks--sitting for five or six hours on -gigantic sponges (damp) of heather, with one’s chin on one’s knees for -strategical purposes, which the gillies pretend they understand, but -which they keep a dead secret--shivering as the Scotch mist clothes one -as with a wet blanket, then being told suddenly that there is a stag -thirty yards to windward--getting a glimpse of it, missing it, and -then hearing the gillies exchanging remarks in a perfectly intelligible -Gaelic regarding one’s capacity--these incidents constitute an -environment that tends to make one look dispassionately upon such -marvels as Harold had been considering in a very different spirit while -the Irish lough was yet within hearing. - -On the third day that he had been trying to circumvent the stag, Harold -felt despondent--not about the stag, for he had long ago ceased to take -any interest in the brute--but about his own future. - -It is to be regretted (sometimes) that an exchange of sentiments on -the subject of love between lovers does not bring with it a change of -circumstances, making possible the realization of a scheme of life in -which those sentiments shall play an active part--or at least as active -a part as sentiments can play. This was Harold’s great regret. Since he -had found that he loved Beatrice and that Beatrice loved him, the world -naturally appeared lovelier also. But it was with the loveliness of a -picture that hangs in a public gallery, not as an individual possession. - -His material circumstances, so far from having improved since he had -confessed to Edmund Airey that it was necessary for him to marry a woman -with money, had become worse; and yet he had given no thought to the -young woman with the money, but a great many thoughts to the young woman -who had, practically, none. He felt that no more unsatisfactory state of -matters could be imagined. And yet he felt that it would be impossible -to take any steps with a view of bringing about a change. - -He had received several letters from Beatrice, and he had written -several to her; but though in more than one he had told her in that -plain strain which one adopts when one does not desire to be in any way -convincing, that it was a most unfortunate day for her when she met him, -still he did not suggest that their correspondence should cease. - -What was to be the end of their love? - -It was the constant attempt to answer this question that gave the stag -his chance of life when, on the afternoon of the third day, Harold was -commanded by his masters the gillies to fire into that thickening in the -mist which he was given to understand by an unmistakable pantomime, was -the stag. - -While the gillies were exchanging their remarks in Gaelic, flavouring -them with very smoky whiskey, he was thinking, not of the escape of the -stag, but of what possible end there could be to the love that existed -between Beatrice and himself. - -It was the renewed thinking upon this question that brought about the -death of that particular stag and two others before the next evening, -for he had arrived at a point when he felt that he must shoot either -a stag or himself. He had arrived at a condition of despair that made -pretty severe demands upon him. - -The slaughter of the stags saved him. When he saw their bodies stretched -before him he felt exultant once more. He felt that he had overcome his -fate; and it was the next morning before he realized the fact that he -had done nothing of the sort--that the possibility of his ever being -able to marry Beatrice Avon was as remote as it had been when he had -fired blindly into the mist, and his masters, who had carried the guns, -exhausted (he believed) the resources, of Gaelic sarcasm in comment. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII.--ON ENJOYING A RESPITE. - -IT was the first week in October when Harold Wynne found himself in -London. He had got a letter from Beatrice in which she told him that she -and her father would return to London from Holland that week. Mr. Avon -had conscientiously followed the track of an Irish informer in whom he -was greatly interested, and who had, at the beginning of the century, -found his way to Holland, where he was looked upon as a poor exile from -Erin. He had betrayed about a dozen of his fellow-countrymen to their -enemies, and had then returned to Ireland to live to an honoured old age -on the proceeds of the bargain he had made for their heads. - -The result of Harold’s consideration of the position that he occupied in -regard to Beatrice, was this visit to London. He made up his mind that -he should see her and tell her that, like Mrs. Browning’s hero, he loved -her so well that he only could leave her. - -He could bring himself to do it, he felt. He believed that he was equal -to an act of heroic self-sacrifice for the sake of the girl--that -was how he put the matter to himself when being soaked on the Scotch -mountain. Yes, he would go to her and tell her that the conclusion -to which he had come was that they must forget one another--that only -unhappiness could result from the relationship that existed between -them. He knew that there is no more unsatisfactory relationship between -a man and a woman than that which has love for a basis, but with no -prospect of marriage; and he knew that so long as his father lived -and continued selfish--and only death could divide him from his -selfishness--marriage with Beatrice was out of the question. - -It was with this resolution upon him that he drove to the address in the -neighbourhood of the British Museum, where Beatrice said she was to be -found with her father. - -It was one of those mansions which at some period in the early part of -the century had been almost splendid; now it was simply large. It -was not the house that Harold would have cared to occupy, even rent -free--and this was a consideration to him. But for a scholar who had a -large library of his own, and who found it necessary to be frequently -in the neighbourhood of the larger Library at the Museum, the house must -undoubtedly have had its advantages. - -She was not at home. The elderly butler said that Mr. Avon had found it -necessary to visit Brussels for a few days, and he had thus been delayed -on the Continent beyond the date he had appointed for his return. -He would probably be in England by the end of the week--the day was -Wednesday. - -Harold left the gloom of Bloomsbury behind him, feeling a curious -satisfaction at having failed to see Beatrice--the satisfaction of a -respite. Some days must elapse before he could make known his resolution -to her. - -He strolled westward to a club of which he was a member--the Bedouin, -and was about to order dinner, when someone came behind him and laid a -hand, by no means gently, on his shoulder. Some of the Bedouins thought -it _de rigueur_ to play such pranks upon each other; and, to do them -justice, it was only rarely that they dislocated a friend’s shoulder or -gave a nervous friend a fit. People said one never knew what was -coming from the moment they entered the Bedouin Club, and the prominent -Bedouins accepted this statement as embodying one of the most agreeable -of its many distinctive features. - -Harold was always prepared for the worst in this place, so when -the force of the blow swung him round and he saw an extremely plain -arrangement of features, distorted by a smile of extraordinary breadth, -beneath a closely-cropped crown of bright red hair, he merely said, -“Hallo, Archie, you here? I thought you were in South Africa -lion-hunting or something.” - -The smile that had previously distorted the features of the young man, -was of such fulness that it might reasonably have been taken for granted -that it could not be increased; the possessor showed, however, that -that smile was not the result of a supreme effort. So soon as Harold had -spoken he gave a wink, and that wink seemed to release the mechanical -system by which his features were contorted, for in an instant his -face became one mouth. In plain words, this mouth of the young man had -swallowed up his other features. All that could be seen of his face was -that enormous mouth flanked by a pair of enormous ears, like plantain -leaves growing on each side of the crater of a volcano. - -Harold looked at him and laughed, then picked up a _menu_ card and -studied it until he calculated that the young man whom he had addressed -as Archie should have thrown off so much of his smile as would enable -him to speak. - -He gave him plenty of time, and when he looked round he saw that some of -the young man’s features had succeeded in struggling to the surface, as -it were, beneath the circular mat of red hair that lay between his ears. - -“No South Africa for me, tarty chip,” said Archie. (“Tarty chip” was -the popular term of address that year among young men about town. Its -philological significance was never discovered.) - -“No South Africa for me; I went one better than that,” continued the -young man. - -“I doubt it,” said Harold. “I’ve had my eye on you until lately. You -have usually gone one worse. Have you any money left--tell the truth?” - -“Money? I asked the tarty chips that look after that sort of thing for -me how I stood the other day,” said Archie, “and I’m ashamed to say that -I’ve been spending less than my income--that is until a couple of months -ago. I’ve still about three million. What does that mean?” - -“That you’ve got rid of about a million inside two years,” said Harold. - -“You’re going it blind,” said Archie. “It only means that I’ve spent -fifty decimals in eighteen months. I can spare that, tarty chip.” (It -may possibly be remembered that in the slang of the year a decimal -signified a thousand pounds.) “That means that you’ve squandered a -fortune, Archie,” said Harold, thinking what fifty thousand pounds would -mean to him. - -“There’s not much of a squander in the deal when I got value for it,” - said Archie. “I got plenty of value. I’ve got to know all about this -world.” - -“And you’ll soon get to know all about the next, if you go on at this -rate,” said Harold. - -“Not me; I’ve got my money in sound places. You heard about my show.” - -“Your show? I’ve heard about nothing for the past year but your shows. -What’s the latest? I want something to eat.” - -“Oh, come with me to my private trough,” cried the young man. “Don’t lay -down a mosaic pavement in your inside in this hole. Come along, tarty -chip; I’ve got a _chef_ named Achille--he knows what suits us--also some -‘84 Heidsieck. Come along with me, and I’ll tell you all about the show. -We’ll go there together later on. We’ll take supper with her.” - -“Oh! with her?” - -“To be sure. You don’t mean to say that you haven’t heard that I’ve -taken the Legitimate Theatre for Mrs. Mowbray? Where on God’s footstool -have you been for the past month?” - -“Not further than the extreme North of Scotland. It was far enough. I -saw a paragraph stating that Mrs. Mowbray, after being a failure in a -number of places, had taken the Legitimate. What has that got to say to -you?” - -“Not much, but I’ve got a good deal to say to it. Oh, come along, and -I’ll tell you all about it. I’m building a monument for myself. I’ve got -the Legitimate and I mean to make Irving and the rest of them sit up.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX.--ON THE ADVANTAGES OF READY MONEY. - -ARCHIE BROWN was the only son of Mr. John Brown, the eminent -contractor. Mr. John Brown had been a man of simple habits and no -tastes. When a working navvy he had acquired a liking for oatmeal -porridge, and up to the day of his death, when he had some twenty -thousand persons in his employment, each of them earning money for him, -he never rose above this comestible. He lived a thoroughly happy life, -taking no thought about money, and having no idea, beyond the building -of drinking fountains in his native town, how to spend the profits -realized on his enormous transactions. - -Now, as the building of even the most complete system of drinking -fountains, in a small town in Scotland, does not produce much impression -upon the financial position of a man with some millions of pounds in -cash, and making business profits to the extent of two hundred thousand -a year, it was inevitable that, when a brick one afternoon fell on Mr. -John Brown’s head and fractured his skull so severely as to cause his -death, his only son should be left very well provided for. - -Archie Brown was left provided with some millions in cash, and with -property that yielded him about one hundred pounds a day. - -Up to the day of his father’s death he had never had more than five -hundred a year to spend as pocket-money--he had saved even out of this -modest sum, for he had scarcely any more expensive tastes than his -father, though he had ever regarded _sole à la Normande_ as more -palatable than oatmeal porridge as a breakfast dish. - -He had never caused his father a moment’s uneasiness; but as soon as he -was given a bird’s eye view, so to speak, of his income, he began to ask -himself if there might not be something in the world more palatable even -than _sole à la Normande_. - -In the course of a year or two he had learned a good deal on the subject -of what was palatable and what was not; for from the earliest records it -is understood that the knowledge of good and the knowledge of evil may -be found on the one tree. - -He began to be talked about, and that is always worth paying money -for--some excellent judges say that it is the only thing worth paying -money for. Occasionally he paid a trifle over the market price for this -commodity. But then he knew that he generally paid more than the market -price for everything that he bought, from his collars, which were -unusually high, down to his boots, which were of glazed kid, so that he -did not complain. - -He found that, after a while, the tradespeople, seeing that he paid -them cash, treated him fairly, and that the person who supplied him with -cigars was actually generous when he bought them by the thousand. - -People who at first had fancied that Mr. Archibald Brown was a -plunger--that is, a swindler whom they could swindle out of his -thousands--had reason to modify their views on the subject after some -time. For six months he had been imposed upon in many directions. But -with all the other things which had to be paid for, the fruit of -the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil should, he knew, be included. -Imported in a fresh condition this was, he knew, expensive; but he had -a sufficient acquaintance with the elements of fruit-culture to be well -aware of the fact that in this condition it is worth very much more than -the canned article. - -He bought his knowledge of good and evil fresh. - -He was no fool, some people said, exultantly. - -These were the people whose friends had tried to impose on him but had -not succeeded. - -He was no fool, some people said regretfully. - -These were the people who had tried to impose on him but had not -succeeded. - -Harold had always liked Archie Brown, and he had offered him much -advice--vegetarian banquets of the canned fruit of the Tree of -Knowledge. The shrewd outbursts of confidence in which Archie indulged -now and again, showed Harold that he was fast coming to understand his -position in society--his friends and his enemies. - -Harold, after some further persuasion, got into the hansom which Archie -had hailed, and was soon driving down Piccadilly to the spacious rooms -of the latter--rooms furnished in a wonderful fashion. As a panorama -of styles the sitting-room, which was about thirty feet square, with a -greenhouse in the rear, would have been worth much to a lecturer on -the progress or decadence of art--any average lecturer could make the -furniture bear out his views, whether they took one direction or the -other. - -Two cabinets which had belonged to Louis XV were the finest specimens -known in the world. They contained Sèvres porcelain and briar-root -pipes. A third cabinet was in the purest style of boarding house art. -A small gilt sofa was covered with old French tapestry which would have -brought five pounds the square inch at an auction. Beside it was -the famous Four-guinea Tottenham Armchair in best Utrecht -velvet--three-nine-six in cretonne, carriage paid to any railway-station -in the United Kingdom. - -A chair, the frame of which was wholly of ivory, carved in Italy, in the -seventeenth century, by the greatest artist that ever lived, apparently -had its uses in Archie Brown’s _entourage_, for it sustained in an -upright position a half-empty soda-water bottle--the bottle would not -have stood upright but for the high relief in the carving of the flowing -hair of the figure of Atalanta at one part of the frame. Near it was an -interesting old oak chair that was for some time believed to have once -belonged to King Henry VIII. - -In achieving this striking contrast to the carved ivory, Mr. Brown -thought that he had proved his capacity to appreciate an important -element in artistic arrangement. He pointed it out to Harold without -delay. He had pointed it out to every other person who had visited his -rooms. - -He also pointed out a picture by one Rembrandt which he had picked up -at an auction for forty shillings. A dealer had subsequently assured him -that if he wanted a companion picture by the same painter he would -not guarantee to procure it for him at a lower figure than -twenty-five guineas--perhaps it might even cost him as high as thirty; -therefore--the logic was Archie’s--the Rembrandt had been a dead -bargain. - -Harold looked at this Burgomaster’s Daughter in eighteenth century -costume, and said that undoubtedly the painter knew what he was about. - -“And so does Archie, tarty chip,” said his host, leading him to one of -the bedrooms. - -“Now it’s half past seven,” said Archie, leaving him, “and dinner will -be served at a quarter to eight. I’ve never been late but once, and -Achille was so hurt that he gave me notice. I promised that it should -never occur again, and it hasn’t. He doesn’t insist on my dressing for -dinner, though he says he should like it.” - -“Make my apologies to Achille,” said Harold. - -“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” said Archie seriously--“at least I think -it won’t.” - -Harold had never been in these rooms before--he wondered how it had -chanced that he came to them at all. But before he had partaken of more -than one of the _hors d’ouvres_--there were four of them--he knew -that he had done well to come. Achille was an artist, the Sauterne was -Chateau Coutet of 1861, and the champagne was, as Archie had promised -it should be, Heidsieck of 1884. The electric light was artfully toned -down, and the middle-aged butler understood his business. - -“This is the family trough,” said Archie. “I say, Harry, isn’t it one -better than the oatmeal porridge of our dads--I mean of my dad; yours, I -know, was always one of us; my dad wasn’t, God bless him! If he had been -we shouldn’t be here now. He’d have died a pauper.” - -Harold so far forgot himself as to say, “Doesn’t Carlyle remark -somewhere that it’s the fathers who work that the sons--ah, never mind.” - -“Carlyle? What Carlyle was that? Do I know him?” asked Archie. - -“No,” said Harold, shaking his head. - -“He isn’t a tarty chip, eh?” - -“Tart, not tarty.” - -“Oh. Don’t neglect this jelly. It’s the best thing that Achille does. -It’s the only thing that he ever repeats himself in. He came to me -boasting that he could give me three hundred and sixty-five different -dinners in the year. ‘That’s all very well,’ said I, ‘but what about -Leap Year?’ I showed him there that his bluff wouldn’t do. ‘Pass’ said -I, and he passed. But we understand one another now. I will say that he -has never repeated himself except in this jelly. I make him give it to -me once a week.” - -“You’re right,” said Harold. “It is something to think about.” - -“Yes, while you’re in front of it, but never after,” said Archie. -“That’s what Achille says. ‘The true dinner,’ says he, ‘is the one that -makes you think while you’re at it, but that never causes you a thought -afterwards.’” - -“Achille is more than an artist, he is a philosopher,” said Harold. -“What does he call this?” he glanced at the menu card. “‘_Glace à la -chagrin d’Achille_’ What does he mean by that? ‘The chagrin of -Achilles’? Where does the chagrin come in?” - -“Oh, he has some story about a namesake of his,” said Archie. “He was -cut up about something, and he wouldn’t come out of the marquee.” - -“The tent,” cried Harold. “Achilles sulked in his tent. Of course, -that’s the ‘_chagrin d’Achille_.’” - -“Oh, you heard of it too? Then the story has managed to leak out -somehow. They always do. There’s nothing in it. Now I’ll tell you all -about the show. Try one of these figs.” - -Harold helped himself to a green fig, the elderly butler placed a -decanter of claret on the table, and disappeared with the noiselessness -of a shadow. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX.--ON THE LEGITIMATE IN ART. - -WHEN the history of the drama in England during the last twenty years -of the nineteenth century comes to be written, the episode of the -management of the Legitimate Theatre by Mrs. Mowbray will doubtless be -amply treated from the standpoint of art, and the historian will, it may -be confidently expected, lament the want of appreciation on the part -of the public for the Shakespearian drama, to which the closing of the -Legitimate Theatre was due. - -There were a considerable number of persons, however, who showed a -readiness to assert that the management of the Legitimate by Mrs. -Mowbray should be looked upon as a purely--only purely was not the word -they used--social incident, having no basis whatever in art. It -failed, they said, not because the people of England had ceased to -love Shakespeare, but because Mr. Archie Brown had ceased to love Mrs. -Mowbray. - -However this may be, there were also people who said that the Legitimate -Theatre under the management of Mrs. Mowbray could not have been so -great a financial failure, after all; for Mrs. Mowbray, when her -season came to an end, wore as expensive dresses as ever, and drove as -expensive horses as ever; and as everyone who had been associated with -the enterprise had been paid--some people said overpaid--the natural -assumption was that Shakespeare on the stage was not so abhorrent to the -people of England as was generally supposed. - -The people who took this view of the matter were people who had never -heard the name of Mr. Archie Brown--people who regarded Mrs. Mowbray -as a self-sacrificing lady who had so enthusiastic a desire to make the -public acquainted with the beauties of Shakespeare, that she was quite -content to spend her own fortune (wherever that came from) in producing -“Cymbeline” and other masterpieces at the Legitimate. - -There were other people who said that Archie Brown was a young ass. - -There were others who said that Mrs. Mowbray was a harpy. - -There were others still--they were mostly men--who said that Mrs. -Mowbray was the handsomest woman in England. - -The bitterest--they were mostly women--said that she was both handsome -and a harpy. - -The truth regarding the difficult question of the Legitimate Theatre was -gathered by Harold Wynne, as he swallowed his claret and ate his olives -at the dining table at Archie Birown’s rooms in Piccadilly. - -He perceived from what Archie told him, that Archie had a genuine -enthusiasm in the cause of Shakespeare. How he had acquired it, he might -have had considerable difficulty in explaining. He also gathered that -Mrs. Mowbray cared very little for Shakespeare except as a medium for -impressing upon the public the fact--she believed it to be a fact--that -Mrs. Mowbray was the most beautiful woman in England. - -“Cymbeline” had, she considered, been written in the prophetic instinct, -which the author so frequently manifested, that one day a woman with -such shapely limbs as Mrs. Mowbray undoubtedly possessed, might desire -to exhibit them to the public of this grand old England of Shakespeare’s -and ours. - -Mrs. Mowbray was probably the most expensive taste that any man in -England could entertain. - -All this Harold gathered from the account of the theatrical enterprise, -as communicated to him by Archie after dinner. - -And the best of it all was, Archie assured him, that no human being -could say a word against the character of Mrs. Mowbray. - -“I never heard a word against the character of her frocks,” said Harold. - -“It’s a big thing, the management of the Legitimate,” said Archie, -gravely. - -“No doubt; even when it’s managed, shall we say, legitimately?” said -Harold. - -“I feel the responsibility, I can tell you,” said Archie. “Shakespeare -has never been given a proper chance in England; and although she’s a -year or two older than me, yet on the box seat of my coach she doesn’t -look a day over twenty-two--just when a woman is at her best, Harry. -What I want to know is, shall it be said of us that Shakespeare--the -immortal Shakespeare, mind you--Stratford upon Avon, you know--” - -“I believe I have his late address,” said Harold. - -“That’s all right. But what I want to know is, shall it be said that -we are willing to throw our Shakespeare overboard? In the scene in the -front of the cave she is particularly fine.” - -In an instant Harold’s thoughts were carried back to a certain scene -in front of a cave on a moonlight night; and for him the roar of life -through Piccadilly was changed to the roar of the Atlantic. His thoughts -remained far away while Archie talked gravely of building himself a -monument by his revival of “Cymbeline”, with which the Legitimate had -been opened by Mrs. Mowbray. Of course, the thing hadn’t begun to pay -yet, he explained. Everyone knew that the Bicycle had ruined theatrical -business in London; but the Legitimate could fight even the Bicycle, and -when the public had the beauty of Mrs. Mowbray properly impressed upon -them, Shakespeare would certainly obtain that recognition which he -deserves from England. Were Englishmen proud of Shakespeare, or were -they not? that was what Archie wished very much to know. If the people -of your so-called British Islands wish to throw Shakespeare overboard, -just let them say so. But if they threw him over, the responsibility -would rest with them; Mrs. Mowbray would still be the handsomest woman -in England. At any rate, “Cymbeline” at the Legitimate would be a -monument. - -“As a lighthouse is a monument,” said Harold, coming back from the Irish -lough to Piccadilly. - -“I knew you’d agree with me,” said Archie. “You know that I’ve always -had a great respect for your opinion, Harry. I don’t object so much as -some tarty chips to your dad. I wish he’d see Mrs. Mowbray. There’s no -vet. whose opinion I’d sooner take on the subject than his. He’d find -her all right.” - -Harold looked at the young man whose plain features--visible when he did -not smile too broadly--displayed the enthusiasm that possessed him when -he was fancying that his devotion to the beauty of Mrs. Mowbray was a -true devotion to Shakespeare. Archie Brown, he was well aware, was very -imperfectly educated. - -He was not, however, much worse than the general run of people. Like -them he knew only enough of Shakespeare to be able to misquote him now -and again; and, like them, he believed that. Darwinism meant nothing -more than that men had once been monkeys. - -Harold looked at Archie, and felt that Mrs. Mowbray was a fortunate woman -in having met with him. The monument was being raised, Harold felt; and -he was right. The management of the Legitimate-Theatre was a memorial to -Vanity working heart, and soul with Ignorance to the praise and glory of -Shakespeare. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI.--ON A BLACK SHEEP. - -BEFORE Archie had completed his confidences, a visitor was announced. - -“Oh, it’s only old Playdell,” said Archie. “You know old Playdell, of -course.” - -“I’m not so certain that I do,” said Harold. - -“Oh, he’s a good old soul who was kicked out of the Church by the bishop -for doing something or other. He’s useful to me--keeps my correspondence -in order--spots the chaps that write the begging letters, and sees that -they don’t get anything out of me, while he takes care that all the -genuine ones get all that they deserve. He’s an Oxford man.” - -“Playdell--Playdell,” said Harold. “Surely he can’t be the fellow that -got run out for marrying people without a licence?” - -“That’s his speciality,” said Archie. “Come along, chippie Chaplain. -Chip in, and have a glass of something.” - -A middle-aged man, wearing the coat and the tie of a cleric, entered the -room with a smile and a bow to Harold. - -“You’ve heard of Mr. Wynne, Play?” said Archie. “The Honourable Harold -Wynne. He’s heard of you--yes, you bet your hoofs on that.” - -“I dare say you’ve heard of me, Mr. Wynne,” said the man. “It’s the -black sheep in a flock that obtain notoriety; the colourless ones escape -notice. I’m a black sheep.” - -“You’re about as black as they make them, old Play,” remarked Archie, -with a prompt and kindly acquiescence. “But your blackness doesn’t go -deeper than the wool.” - -“You say that because you are always disposed to be charitable, Archie,” - said Mr. Playdell. “Even with you I’m afraid that another notorious -character is not so black as he’s painted.” - -“Neither he is,” said Archie. “You know as well as I do that the devil -is not so black as he used to be--he’s turning gray in his old age.” - -“They treated me worse than they treated the Fiend himself, Mr. Wynne,” - said Playdell. “They turned me out of the Church, but the Church still -retains the Prince of Darkness. He is still the most powerful auxiliary -that the Church knows.” - -“If you expressed that sentiment when in orders,” said Harold, “I can -quite easily understand how you find yourself outside the Church.” - -“I was quite orthodox when in the Church, Mr. Wynne. I couldn’t afford -to be otherwise,” said Playdell. “I wasn’t even an Honest Doubter. I -felt that if I had begun to doubt I might become a Dissenter before -I knew what I was about. It is only since I left the Church that I’ve -indulged in the luxury of being unorthodox.” - -“Take a glass of wine for your stomach’s sake,” said Archie. - -“That lad is the son of a Scotch Nonconformist,” said Mr. Playdell -to Harold; “hence the text. Would it be unorthodox to say that an -inscrutable Providence did not see fit to preserve the reply of Timothy -to that advice? For my own part I cannot doubt for a moment that Timothy -inquired for what other reason his correspondent fancied he might take -the wine. I like my young patron’s La Rose. It must have been something -very different from this that the person alluded to when he said ‘my -love is better than wine.’ Yes, I’ve always thought that the truth of -the statement was largely dependent on the wine.” - -“I’ll take my oath that isn’t orthodox,” said Archie. “You’d better mind -what you’re about, chippie Chaplain, or I’ll treat you as the bishop -did. This is an orthodox household, let me tell you.” - -“I feel like Balaam’s ass sometimes, Mr. Wynne, in this situation,” said -Mr. Playdell. “In endeavouring to avoid the angel with the sword on one -hand--that is the threatening orthodoxy of the Church--I make myself -liable to a blow from the staff of the prophet--our young friend is the -prophet.” - -“I will say this for you, chippie Chaplain,” said Archie, “you’ve kept -me straight. Not that I ever did take kindly to the flowing bowl; but we -all know what temptations there are.” He looked into his glass and spoke -solemnly, shaking his head. “Yes, Harry, I’ve never drunk a thimbleful -more than I should since old Play here lectured me.” - -“If I could only persuade you--‘’commenced Mr. Playdell. - -“But I’m not such an ass,” cried Archie, interrupting him. Then he -turned to Harold, saying, “The chippie Chaplain wants to marry me -to some one whose name we never mention. That has always been his -weakness--marrying tarty chips that he had no right to marry.” - -“If I don’t mistake, Mr. Playdell, it was this little weakness that -brought you to grief,” said Harold. - -“It was the only point that the bishop could lay hold of, Mr. Wynne,” - said Playdell. “I held, and I still hold, that the ceremony of marriage -may be performed by any person who has been ordained--that the question -of a licence is not one that should come forward upon any occasion. -Those who hold other opinions are those who would degrade the ordinance -into a mere civil act.” - -“And you married without question every couple who came to you, I -believe?” said Harold. - -“I did, Mr. Wynne. And I will be happy to marry any other couples who -come to me for that purpose now.” - -“But, you are no longer in the Church, and such marriages would be no -marriages in the eyes of the law.” - -“Nothing can be more certain, Mr. Wynne. But I know that there are many -persons in this country who hold, with me, that the ordinance is not one -that should be made the subject of a licence bought from a bishop--who -hold that the very act of purchase is a gross degradation of the -ordinance of God.” - -“I say, chippie Chaplain, haven’t we had enough of that?” said Archie. -“You’ve pegged away at that marriage business with me for a good many -months. Now, I say, pass the marriage business. Let us have a fresh -deal.” - -“Mr. Wynne, I merely wished to explain my position to you,” said -Playdell. “I’m on the side of the angels in this question, as a great -statesman but a poor scientist said of another question.” - -“Pass the statesman as well,” cried Archie. - -“What do tarty chips like us care for politics or other fads? He told -me the other day, Harry, that instead of introducing a bill for the -admission of ladies as members of Parliament, it would soon be necessary -to introduce a bill for the admission of gentlemen as members--yes, you -said that. You can’t deny it.” - -“I don’t,” said Mr. Playdell. “The result of the last General -Election--” - -“Pass the General Election,” shouted Archie. “Mr. Wynne hates that sort -of thing. Now give an account of yourself. What have you done to earn -your screw since morning?” - -“This is what I have come to, Mr. Wynne,” said Playdell. “Think of it; a -clergyman and M.A. Oxon, forced to give an account of his stewardship to -a young cub like that!” He laughed after a moment of seriousness. - -“You don’t seem to feel deeply the degradation,” remarked Harold. - -“It’s nothing to the depths to which I have fallen,” said Mr. Playdell. -“I was never more than a curate, but in spite of the drawback of -being privileged to preach the Gospel twice a week, the curacy was a -comfortable one. I published two volumes of my sermons, Mr. Wynne. They -sold poorly in England, but I believe that in America they made the -fortune of the publishers that pirated them. It is perfectly well known -that my sermons achieved a great and good purpose in the States. They -were practical. I will say that for them. The leader of the corner in -hogs who ran the prices up last autumn, sold out of the business, I -understand, after reading my sermon on the text, ‘The husks that the -swine do eat.’ Several judges also resigned, admitting that they -were converted. It was freely stated that even a Congressman had been -reformed by one sermon of mine, while another was known to have brought -tears to the eyes of a reporter on the _New York Herald_. And yet, with -all these gratifying results, I never got a penny out of the American -edition. Just think what would happen on this side of the Atlantic if, -let us say, a Royal Academician were to find grace through a sermon, -or--to assume an extreme case--a member of the Stock Exchange? Why, -the writer would be a made man. I had thoughts of going to America, -Mr. Wynne. At any rate, I’m going to deal with the publishers there -directly. A firm in Boston is at present about to boom a Bowdlerized -edition of the Bible which I have prepared for family reading in the -States--not a word in it that the purest-minded young woman in all -Boston might not see. It should sell, Mr. Wynne. I’m also translating -into English a volume of American humour.” - -“I’ll give you a chance of going to America, before you sleep if you -don’t dry up about your sermons and suchlike skittles,” said Archie. -“The decanter’s beside you. Fill your glass. Mr. Wynne is coming to my -show to-night.” - -Mr. Playdell passed the decanter without filling his glass. “You know -that I never take more than one glass of La Rose,” said he. “I have -found out all about your house painter who fell off the ladder and broke -all his ribs--he is the same as your Clergyman’s Orphan, and he lives -in the same house as your Widow of a Naval Officer whose little all -was invested in a fraudulent building society--he is also ‘First -Thessalonians seven and ten. P.O.O. or stamps’.” - -“Great Godfrey!” cried Archie; “and I had already written out a cheque -for twenty pounds to send to that swindler! Do you mean to tell me, -Play, that all those you’ve mentioned are impostors?” - -“All? Why, there’s only one impostor among the lot,” said Mr. Playdell. -“He is ‘First Thessalonians,’ and he has at least a dozen branch -establishments.” - -“It’s enough to make a tarty chip disgusted with God’s footstool,” said -Archie. “Before old Play took me in hand I used to fling decimals about -right and left, without inquiry.” - -“He was the sole support of several of the most notorious swindlers -in the country,” said Mr. Playdell. “I’ve managed to whittle them down -considerably. Shakespeare is at present the only impostor that has -defied my efforts,” he added, in a whisper to Harold. - -Harold laughed. He was beginning to feel some remorse at having -previously looked on Archie Brown as a good-natured fool. He now felt -that, in spite of Mrs. Mowbray, he would not wreck his life. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII.--ON SHAKESPEARE AND SUPPER. - -CARRIAGES by the score were waiting at the fine Corinthian entrance -to the Legitimate, when Harold and Archie reached the theatre in their -hansom. The _façade_ of the Legitimate Theatre is so severely Corinthian -that foreign visitors invariably ask what church it is. - -It was probably the classical columns supporting the pediment of the -entrance that caused Archie to abate his frivolous conversation with his -friend in the hansom--Archie had been expressing the opinion that it was -exhilarating--only exhilarating was not the word he used--to swear at -a man who had once been a clergyman and who still wore the dress of a -cleric. “A chap feels that his turn has come,” he had said. “No matter -how wrong they are you can’t swear at them and tell them to come down -out of that, when they’re in their own pulpits--they’d have you up for -brawling. That’s why I like to take it out of old Playdell. He tells me, -however, that there’s no dean in the Church that gathers in the decimals -as he does in my shop. But, bless you! he saves me his screw three times -over.” - -But now that the classical front of the Legitimate came in view, Archie -became solemn. - -He possibly appreciated the feelings of a conscientious clergyman when -about to enter his Church. - -Shakespeare was a great responsibility. - -So was Mrs. Mowbray. - -The performance was not quite over; but before Archie had paid the -hansomeer, the audience was streaming out from every door. - -“Stand here and listen to what the people are saying.” whispered Archie. -“I often do it. It is only in this way that you can learn how much -appreciation for Shakespeare still remains in England.” - -He took up his position with Harold at the foot of the splendid -staircase of the theatre, where the people chatted together while -waiting for their carriages. - -With scarcely an exception, the remarks had a hearing upon the -performance of “Cymbeline.” Only two ladies confined their criticisms to -their respective medical advisers. - -Of the others, one man said that Mrs. Mowbray bore a striking -resemblance to her photographs. - -A second said that she was the most beautiful woman in England. - -A third said that she knocked sparks out of Polly Floss in the same line -of business. (Polly Floss was the leading exponent of burlesque). - -One woman said that Mrs. Mowbray was most picturesquely dressed. - -A second said that she was most picturesquely undressed. - -A third wondered if Liberty had got the exact tint of the robe that Mrs. -Mowbray had worn in the second act. - -“And yet some people say that there’s no appreciation of Shakespeare in -England!” said Archie, as he led Harold round the stalls, over which -the attendants were spreading covers, and on to Mrs. Mowbray’s private -rooms. - -“From the crowds that went out by every door, I judge that the theatre -is making money, at any rate; and I suppose that’s the most practical -test of appreciation,” said Harold. - -“Oh, they don’t all pay,” said Archie. “That’s a feature of theatrical -management that it takes an outsider some time to understand. Mrs. -Mowbray should understand it pretty well by this time, so should her -business manager. I’m just getting to understand it.” - -“You mean to say that the people are allowed to come in without paying?” - -“It amounts to that in the long run--literally the long run--of the -piece, I believe. Upon my soul, there are some people who fancy that -a chap runs a show as a sort of free entertainment for the public. The -dramatic critics seem to fancy that a chap produces a play, simply in -order to give them an opportunity of showing off their own cleverness -in slating it. It seems that a writer-chap can’t show his cleverness in -praising a piece, but only in slanging it.” - -“I think that I’d try and make people pay for their seats.” - -“I used always to pay for mine in the old days--but then, I was always -squandering my money.” - -“I have always paid for mine.” - -“The manager says that if you asked people to pay, they’d be mortally -offended and never enter the theatre again, and where would you be -then?” - -“Where, indeed?” said Harold. “I expect your manager must know his -business thoroughly.” - -“He does. It requires tact to get people to come to see Shakespeare,” - said Archie. “But a chap can’t build a monument for himself without -paying for it.” - -“It would be ridiculous to expect it,” said Harold. - -Pushing aside a magnificent piece of heavy drapery, Archie brought his -friend into a passage illuminated by the electric light; and knocking at -a door at the farther end, he was admitted by Mrs. Mowbray’s maid, into -a prettily-furnished sitting-room and into the presence of Mrs. Mowbray, -who was sitting robed in something very exquisite and cloud-like--not -exactly a peignoir but something that suggested a peignoir. - -She was like a picture by Romney. If one could imagine all the charm -of all the pictures of Emma Hamilton (_née_ Lyon) which Romney painted, -meeting harmoniously in another creature, one would come within -reasonable distance of seeing Mrs. Mowbray, as Harold saw her when he -entered the room. - -Even with the disadvantage of the exaggerated colour and the -over-emphasized eye-lashes necessary for the searching illumination of -the footlights, she was very lovely, Harold acknowledged. - -But all the loveliness of Mrs. Mowbray produced but a trifling effect -compared to that produced by her charm of manner. She was the most -natural woman ever known. - -The position of the natural man has been defined by an eminent -authority. But who shall define the position of the natural woman? - -It was Mrs. Mowbray’s perfect simplicity, especially when talking to -men--as a matter of fact she preferred talking to men rather than to -women--that made her seem so lovely--nay, that made a man feel that it -was good for him to be in her presence. She was devoid of the smallest -trace of affectation. She seemed the embodiment of truth. She never -smiled for the sake of conventionality. But when she did smile, just -as Harold entered the room, her head turning round so that her face -was looking over her shoulder, she had all the spiritual beauty of the -loveliest picture ever painted by Greuze, consequently the loveliest -picture ever painted by the hand of man. - -And yet she was so very human. - -An Algy and an Eddy were already in the room--the first was a Marquis, -the second was the eldest son of a duke. Both were handsome lads, of -quiet manners, and both were in the Household Cavalry. Mrs. Mowbray -liked to be surrounded by the youngest of men. - -Harold had been acquainted with her long before she had become an -actress. He had not had an opportunity of meeting her since; but he -found that she remembered him very well. - -She had heard of his father, she said, looking at him in a way that did -not in the least suggest a picture by Greuze. - -When people referred to his father they did not usually assume a look -of innocence. Most of them would have had difficulty in assuming such a -look under any circumstances. - -“My father is frequently heard of,” said Harold. - -“And your father’s son also,” said Mrs. Mowbray. “What a freak of Lady -Innisfail’s! She lured you all across to Ireland. I heard so much. And -what came of it, after all?” - -“Acute admiration for the allurements of Lady Innisfail in my case, and -a touch of acute rheumatism in my father’s case,” said Harold. - -“Neither will be fatal to the sufferers,” said Mrs. Mowbray--“or to Lady -Innisfail, for that matter,” she added. - -“I should say not,” remarked Algy. “We all admire Lady Innisfail.” - -“Few cases of acute admiration of Lady Innisfail have proved fatal, so -far as I can hear, Lord Brackenthorpe,” said Mrs. Mowbray. “Young mem -have suffered from it and have become exemplary husbands and parents.” - -“And if they don’t live happy, that we may,” said Archie. - -“That’s the end of the whole matter,” said. Harold. - -“That’s the end of the orthodox fairy tale,” said Mrs. Mowbray. “Was -your visit to Ireland a fairy story, Mr. Wynne?” - -Harold wondered how much this woman knew of the details of his visit -to Ireland. Before he-could think of an answer in the same strain, Mrs. -Mowbray had risen from the little gilt sofa, and had taken a step or two -toward her dressing-room. The look she tossed to Harold, when she turned -round with her fingers on the handle of the door, was a marvellous one. - -Had it been attempted by any other woman, it would have provoked -derision on the part of the average man--certainly on the part of Harold -Wynne. But, coming from Mrs. Mowbray, it conveyed--well, all that she -meant it to convey. It was not merely fascinating, it was fascination -itself. - -It was such a look as this, he felt--but nearly a year had passed before -he had thought of the parallel--that Venus had cast at Paris upon a -momentous occasion. It was the glance of Venus Victrix. It made a man -think--a year or so afterwards--of Ahola and Aholibah, of Ashtoreth, of -Cleopatra, of Faustina, of Iseult, of Rosamond. - -And yet the momentary expression of her features was as simple and as -natural as that worn by one of Greuze’s girls. - -“She’ll not be more than ten minutes,” said - -Archie. “I don’t know how she manages to dress herself in the time.” - -He did not exaggerate. Mrs. Mowbray returned in ten minutes, with no -trace of paint upon her face, wearing a robe that seemed to surround her -with fleecy clouds. The garment was not much more than an atmosphere--it -was a good deal less substantial than the atmosphere of London in -December or that of Sheffield in June. - -“We shall have the pleasantest of suppers,” she said, “and the -pleasantest of chats. I understand that Mr. Wynne has solved the Irish -problem.” - -“And what is the solution, Mrs. Mowbray?” said Lord Brackenthorpe. - -“The solution--ah--‘a gray eye or so’,” said Mrs. Mowbray. - -The little Mercutio swagger with which she gave point to the words, was -better than anything she had done on the stage. - -“And now, Mr. Wynne, you must lead the way with me to our little -supper-room,” said she, before the laugh, in which everyone joined, at -the pretty bit of comedy, had ceased. - -Harold gave her his arm. - -When at the point of entering the room--it was daintily furnished with -old English oak and old English silver--Mrs. Mowbray said, in the most -casual way possible, “I hope you will tell me all that may be told about -that charming White Lady of the Cave. How amusing it must have been to -watch the chagrin of Lord Fotheringay, when Mr. Airey gave him to -understand that he meant to make love to that young person with the -wonderful eyes.” - -“It was intensely amusing, indeed,” said Harold, who had become prepared -for anything that Mrs. Mowbray might say. - -“Yes, you must have been amused; for, of course, you knew that Mr. Airey -was not in earnest--that he had simply been told off by Miss Craven to -amuse himself with the young person, in order to induce her to take her -beautiful eyes off--off--someone else, and to turn them admiringly upon -Mr. Airey.” - -“That was the most amusing part of the comedy, of course,” said Harold. - -“What fools some girls are!” laughed Mrs. Mowbray. It was well known -that she disliked the society of women. - -“It’s a wise provision of nature that the fools should be the girls.” - -“Oh, I have known a fool or two among men,” said Mrs. Mowbray, with -another laugh. - -“Have known--did you say _have known?_” said Harold. - -“Any girl who has lived in this world of ours for a quarter of a -century, should have seen enough to make her aware of the fact that the -best way to set about increasing the passion of, let us say, the average -man--” - -“No, the average man is passionless.” - -“Well, the passion of whatever man you please--for a young woman whom he -loves, or fancies he loves--it’s all the same in the end--is to induce -him to believe that several other men are also in love with her.” - -“That is one of the rudiments of a science of which you are the leading -exponent,” said Harold. - -“And yet Miss Craven was foolish enough to fancy that the man of whom -she was thinking, would give himself up to think of her so soon as he -believed that Mr. Airey was in love with her rival! Ah, here are our -lentils and pulse. How good it is of you to imperil your digestions by -taking supper with me, when only a few hours can have passed since you -dined.” - -“Digestion is not an immortal soul,” said Harold, “and I believe that -immortal souls have been imperilled before now, for the sake of taking -supper with the most beautiful woman in the world.” - -“Have you ever heard a woman say that I am beautiful?” she asked. - -“Never,” said Harold. “That is the one sin which a woman never pardons -in another.” - -“You do not know women--” with a little pitying smile. “A woman will -forgive a woman for being more beautiful than herself--for being less -virtuous than herself, but never for being better-dressed than herself.” - -“For how many of the three sins do you ask forgiveness of woman--two or -three?” said Harold, gently. - -But instead of making an answer, Mrs. Mowbray said something about the -necessity of cherishing a digestion. It was disgraceful, she said, that -bread-and-butter and arithmetic should be forced upon a school boy--that -such magnificent powers of digestion as he possessed should not be -utilized ta the uttermost. - -Lord Brackenthorpe said he knew a clever artist chap, who had drawn -a sketch of about a thousand people crowding over one another, in an -American hotel, in order to see a boy, who had been overheard asking his -mother what was the meaning of the word dyspepsia. - -Mrs. Mowbray wondered if the melancholy of Hamlet was due to a weak -digestion. - -Harold said he thought it should rather be accepted as evidence that -there was a Schleswig-Holstein question even in Hamlet’s day. - -Meantime, the pheasants and sparkling red Burgundy were affording -compensation for the absence of any brilliant talk. - -Then the young men lit their cigarettes. Mrs. Mowbray had never been -known to risk her reputation (for femininity) by letting a cigarette -between her lips; but her femininity was in no way jeopardized--rather -was it accentuated--by her liking to be in the neighbourhood of where -cigarettes were being smoked--that is, when the cigarettes were good and -when the smokers were pleasant young men with titles, or even unpleasant -young men with thousands. - -After the lapse of an hour, a message came regarding Mrs. Mowbray’s -brougham. Her guests rose and she looked about for her wrap. - -While Harold Wynne was laying it on her lovely shoulders, she kept -her eyes fixed upon his. Hers were full of intelligence. When he -had carefully fastened the gold clasp just beneath the hollow of her -throat--it required very careful handling--she poised her head to the -extent of perhaps a quarter of an inch to one side, and laughed; then -she moved away from him, but turned her head so that her face was once -more over her shoulder, like the face of the Greuze girl from whom she -had learnt the trick. - -He knew that she wanted him to ask her from whom she had heard the -stories regarding Castle Innisfail and its guests. - -He also knew that the reason she wanted him to ask her this question, -was in order that she might have the delight of refusing to answer him, -while keeping him in the expectancy of receiving an answer. - -Such a delight would, of course, be a malicious one. But he knew that it -would be a thoroughly womanly one, and he knew that Mrs. Mowbray was a -thorough woman. - -Therefore he laughed back at her and did not ask her anything--not even -to take his arm out to her brougham. - -Archie Brown did, and she took his arm, still looking over her shoulder -at Harold. - -It only needed that the lovely, wicked look should vanish in a sentence. - -And it did. - -The full lips parted, and the poise of the head was increased by perhaps -the eighth part of an inch. - -“‘A gray eye or so,’” she murmured. - -Her laughter rang down the corridor. - -“And the best of it all is, that no one can say a word against her -character,” said Archie. - -This was the conclusion of his rhapsody in the hansom, in which he and -Harold were driving down Piccadilly--a rhapsody upon the beauty, the -genius, and the expensiveness of Mrs. Mowbray. - -Harold was silent. The truth was that he was thinking about something -far apart from Mrs. Mowbray, her beauty, her doubtful genius, and her -undoubted power of spending money. - -“What do you say?” said Archie. “Great Godfrey! you don’t mean to say -that you’ve heard a word breathed against her character?” - -“On the contrary,” said Harold, “I’ve always heard it asserted that Mrs. -Mowbray is the best dressed woman in London.” - -“Give me your hand, old chap; I knew that I could trust you to do her -justice,” cried Archie. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII.--ON BLESSING OR DOOM. - -EVEN before he slept, Harold Wynne found that he had a good many -matters to think about, in addition to the exquisitely natural poises of -Mrs. Mowbray’s shapely head. - -It was apparent to him that Mrs. Mowbray had somehow obtained a -circumstantial account of the appearance of Beatrice Avon at the Irish -Castle, and of the effect that had been produced, in more than one -direction, by her appearance. - -But the most important information that he had derived from Mrs. Mowbray -was that which had reference to the attitude of Edmund Airey toward -Beatrice. - -Undoubtedly, Mrs. Mowbray had, by some means, come to be possessed of -the truth regarding the apparent fascination which Beatrice had for -Edmund Airey. It was a trick--it was the result of a conspiracy between -Helen Craven and Edmund, in order that he, Harold, should be prevented -from even telling Beatrice that he loved her. Helen had felt certain -that Beatrice, when she fancied--poor girl!--that she had produced so -extraordinary an impression upon the wealthy and distinguished man, -would be likely to treat the poor and undistinguished man, whose name -was Harold Wynne, in such a way as would prevent him from ever telling -her that he loved her! - -And Edmund had not hesitated to play the part which Helen had assigned -to him! For more than a moment did Harold feel that his friend had -behaved in a grossly dishonourable way. But he knew that his friend, -if taxed with behaving dishonourably, would be ready to prove--if he -thought it necessary--that, so far from acting dishonourably, he had -shown himself to be Harold’s best friend, by doing his best to prevent -Harold from asking a penniless girl to be his wife. Oh, yes, Mr. -Edmund Airey would have no trouble in showing, to the satisfaction of -a considerable number of people--perhaps, even to his own -satisfaction--that he was acting the part of a truly conscientious; -and, perhaps, a self-sacrificing friend, by adopting Helen Craven’s -suggestion. - -Harold felt very bitter toward his friend Edmund Airey; though it was -unreasonable for him to do so; for had not he come to precisely the same -conclusion as his friend in respect of Beatrice, this conclusion being, -of course, that nothing but unhappiness could be the result of his -loving Beatrice, and of his asking Beatrice to love him? - -If Edmund Airey had succeeded in preventing him from carrying out his -designs, Harold would be saved from the necessity of having with -Beatrice that melancholy interview to which he was looking forward; -therefore it was unreasonable for him to entertain any feeling of -bitterness toward Edmund. - -But for all that, he felt very bitterly toward Edmund--a fact which -shows that, in some men as well as in all women, logic is subordinate to -feeling. - -It was also far from logical on his part to begin to think, only after -he had accused his friend of dishonourable conduct, of the source whence -the evidence upon which he had founded his accusation, was derived. - -How had Mrs. Mowbray come to hear how Edmund Airey had plotted with -Helen Craven, he asked himself. He began to wonder how she could have -heard about the gray eyes of Beatrice, to which she had alluded more -than once, with such excellent effect from the standpoint of art. From -whom could she have heard so much? - -She certainly did not hear it from Mr. Durdan, even if she was -acquainted with him, which was doubtful; for Mr. Durdan was discreet. -Besides, Mr. Durdan was rarely eloquent on any social subject. He was -the sort of man who makes a tour on the Continent and returns to tell -you of nothing except a flea at Bellaggio. - -Was it possible that some of the fishing men had been taking notes -unknown to any of their fellow guests, for the benefit of Mrs. Mowbray? - -Harold did not think so. - -After some time he ceased to trouble himself with these vain -speculations. The fact--he believed it to be a fact--remained the same: -someone who had been at Castle Innisfail had given Mrs. Mowbray a highly -circumstantial account of certain occurrences in the neighbourhood of -the Castle; and if Mrs. Mowbray had received such an account, why might -not anyone else be equally favoured? - -Thus it was that he strayed into new regions of speculation, where -he could not possibly find any profit. What did it matter to him if -everyone in London knew that Edmund Airey had plotted with Helen Craven, -to prevent an impecunious man from marrying a penniless girl? All that -remained for him to do was to go to the girl, and tell her that he -had made a mistake--that he would be asking her to make too great a -sacrifice, were he to hold her to her promise to love him and him only. - -It was somewhat curious that his resolution in this matter should be -strengthened by the fact of his having learned that Edmund Airey had not -been in earnest, in what was generally regarded at Castle Innisfail as -an attitude of serious, and not merely autumn, love-making, in respect -of Beatrice. - -He did not feel at all annoyed to learn that, if he were to withdraw -from the side of Beatrice, his place would not be taken by that wealthy -and distinguished man, Edmund Airey. When he had at first made up his -mind to go to Beatrice and ask her to forget that he had ever told her -that he loved her, he had had an uneasy feeling that his friend might -show even a greater interest than he had done on the evening of the -_tableaux_ at the Castle, in the future movements of Beatrice. - -At that time his resolution had not been overwhelming in its force. But -now that Mrs. Mowbray had made that strange communication--it almost -amounted to a revelation--to him, he felt almost impatient at the delay -that he knew there must be before he could see the girl and make his -confession to her. - -He had two more days to think over his resolution, in addition to his -sleepless night after receiving Mrs. Mowbray’s confidences; and the -result of keeping his thoughts in the one direction was, that at last he -had almost convinced himself that he was glad that the opportunity had -arrived for him to present himself to the girl, in order to tell her -that he would no longer stand in the way of her loving someone else. - -When he found himself in her presence, however, his convictions on this -particular point were scarcely so strong as they might have been. - -She was sitting in front of the fire in the great drawing-room that -retained all the original decorations of the Brothers Adam, and she was -wearing something beautifully simple--something creamy, with old lace. -The furniture of the room also belonged to the period of the Adams, and -on the walls were a number of coloured engravings by Bartolozzi after -Cipriani and Angelica Kauffmann. - -She was in his arms in a moment. She gave herself to him as naturally -and as artlessly as though she were a child; and he held her close to -him, looking down upon her face without uttering a word--kissing her -mouth conscientiously, her shell-pink cheeks earnestly, her forehead -scrupulously, and her chin playfully. - -This was how he opened the interview which he had arranged to part them -for ever. - -Then they both drew a long breath simultaneously, and both laughed in -unison. - -Then he held her away from him for a few seconds, looking upon her -exquisite face. Again he kissed her--but this time solemnly and with -something of the father about the action. - -“At last--at last,” he said. - -“At last,” she murmured in reply. - -“It seems to me that I have never seen you before,” said he. “You seem -to be a different person altogether. I do not remember anything of your -face, except your eyes--no, by heavens! your eyes are different also.” - -“It was dark as midnight in the depths of that seal-cave,” she -whispered. - -“You mean that--ah, yes, my beloved! If I could have seen your eyes at -that moment I know I should have found them full of the light that I -now see in their depths. You remember what I said to you on the morning -after your arrival at the Castle? Your eyes meant everything to me -then--I knew it--beatitude or doom.” - -“And you know now what they meant?” - -He looked at her earnestly and passionately for some moments. Then his -hands dropped suddenly as though they were the hands of a man who had -died in a moment--his hands dropped, he turned away his face. - -“God knows, God knows,” he said, with what seemed like a moan. - -“Yes,” she said; “God knows, and you know as well as God that in my -heart there is nothing that does not mean love for you. Does love mean -blessing or doom?” - -“God knows,” said he again. “Your love should mean to me the most -blessed thing on earth.” - -“And your love makes me most blessed among women,” said she. - -This exchange of thought could scarcely be said to make easier the task -which he had set himself to do before nightfall. - -He seemed to become aware of this, for he went to the high mantelpiece, -and stood with his hands upon it, earnestly examining the carved marble -frieze, cream-tinted with age, which was on a level with his face. - -She knew, however, that he was not examining the carving from the -standpoint of a critic; and she waited silently for whatever was coming. - -It came when he ceased his scrutiny of the classical figures in high -relief, that appeared upon the marble slab. - -“Beatrice, my beloved,” said he, and her face brightened. Nothing that -commenced with the assumption that she was his beloved could be very -bad. “I have been in great trouble--I am in great trouble still.” - -She was by his side in a moment, and had taken one of his hands in hers. -She held it, looking up to his face with her eyes full of sympathy and -concern. - -“My dearest,” he said, “you are all that is good and gracious. We must -part, and for ever.” - -She laughed, still looking at his face. There really was something -laughable in the sequence of his words. But her laugh did not make his -task any easier. - -“When I told you that I loved you, Beatrice, I told you the truth,” said -he. “If I were to tell you anything else now it would be a falsehood. -But I had no right ever to speak to you of love. I am absolutely -penniless.” - -“That is no confession,” said she. “I knew all along that you were -dependent upon your father for everything. I felt for you--so did Mr. -Airey.” - -“Mr. Airey?” said he. “Mr. Airey mentioned to you that I was a beggar?” - -“Oh, he didn’t say that. He only said--what did he say?--something about -the affairs of the world being very badly arranged, otherwise you should -have thousands--oh, he said he felt for you with all his heart.” - -“‘With all his appreciation of the value of an opportunity,’ he should -have said. Never mind Edmund Airey. You, yourself, can see, Beatrice, -how impossible it would be for any man with the least sense of honour, -situated as I am, to ask you to wait--to wait for something indefinite.” - -“You did not ask me to wait for anything. You did not ask me to wait -for your love--you gave it to me at once. There is nothing indefinite in -love.” - -“My Beatrice, you cannot think that I would ask you for your love -without hoping to marry you?” - -“Then let us be married to-morrow.” - -She did not laugh, speaking the words. He could see that she would not -hesitate to marry him at any moment. - -“Would to heaven that we could be, my dearest! But could there be -anything more cruel than for a penniless man, such as I am, to ask a -girl, such as you are, to marry him?” - -“I cannot see where the cruelty would be. People have been very happy -together before now, though they have had very little money between -them.” - -“My dear Beatrice, you were not meant to pass your life in squalid -lodgings, with none of the refinements of life around you; and I--well, -I have known what roughing it means; I would face the worst alone; but -I am not selfish enough to seek to drag you down to my level--to ask you -to face hardship for my sake.” - -“But I----” - -“Do not say anything, darling: anything that you may say will only make -it the harder to part. I can do it, Beatrice; I am strong enough to say -good-bye.” - -“Then say it, Harold.” - -She stood facing him, with her wonderful eyes looking steadily into his. -The message that they conveyed to him was such as he could not fail to -read aright. He knew that if he had said goodbye, he would never have a -chance of looking into those eyes again. - -And yet he made the attempt to speak--to say the word that she had -challenged him to utter. His lips were parted for more than a moment. -He suddenly dropped her hand--he had been holding it all the time--and -turned away from her with a passionate gesture. - -“I cannot say it--God help me! I cannot say good-bye,” he cried. - -He had flung himself into a sofa and had buried his face in his hands. - -For a short time he had actually felt that he was desirous to part from -her. For some minutes he had been quite sincere. The force of the words -he had made use of to show Beatrice how absolutely necessary it was that -they should part, had not been felt by her; those words had, however, -affected him. He had felt--for the first time, in spite of his previous -self-communing--that he must say good-bye to her, but he found that he -was too weak to say it. - -He felt a hand upon his shoulder. He could feel her gracious presence -near to him, before her voice came. - -“Harold,” she said, “if you had said it, I should never have had an -hour’s happiness in my life. I would never have seen you again. I felt -that all the happiness of my life was dependent upon your refraining -from speaking those words. Cannot you see, my love, that the matter -has passed out of our hands--that it is out of our power to part now? -Harold, cannot you see that, let it be for good or evil--for heaven or -doom--we must be together? Whatever is before us, we are not two but -one--our lives are joined beyond the power of separation. I am yours; -you are mine.” - -He sprang to his feet. He saw that tears were in her eyes. “Let it be -so,” he cried. “In God’s name let it be so. Whatever may happen, no -suggestion of parting shall come from me. We stand together, and for -ever, Beatrice.” - -“For ever and ever,” she said. - -That was how their interview came to a close. - -Did he know when he had set out for her home that this would be the -close of their interview--this clasping of the hands--this meeting of -the lips? - -Perhaps he did not. But one thing is certain: if it had not had this -ending, he would have been greatly mortified. - -His vanity would have received a great blow. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV.--ON THE MESSAGE OF THE LILY. - -WALKING Westward to his rooms, he enjoyed once again the same feeling -of exultation, which had been his on the evening of the return from the -seal-hunt. He felt that she was wholly his. - -He had done all that was in his power to show her how very much better -it would be for her to part from him and never to see him again--how -much better it would be for her to marry the wealthy and distinguished -man who had, out of the goodness of his heart, expressed to her a deep -sympathy for his, Harold’s, unfortunate condition of dependence upon a -wicked father. But he had not been able to convince her that it would be -to her advantage to adopt this course. - -Yet, instead of feeling deeply humiliated by reason of the failure of -his arguments, he felt exultant. - -“She is mine--she is mine!” he cried, when he found himself alone in his -room in St. James’s. “There is none like her, and she is mine!” - -He reflected for a long time upon her beauty. He thought of Mrs. -Mowbray, and he smiled, knowing that Beatrice was far lovelier, though -her loveliness was not of the same impressive type. One did not seem -to breathe near Beatrice that atmosphere heavy with the scent of roses, -which Mrs. Mowbray carried with her for the intoxication of the nations. -Still, the beauty of Beatrice was not a tame thing. It had stirred him, -and it had stirred other men. - -Yes, it had stirred Edmund Airey--he felt certain of it, although he did -not doubt the truth of Mrs. Mowbray’s communication on this subject. - -Even though Edmund Airey had been in a plot with Helen, still Harold -felt that he had been stirred by the beauty of Beatrice. - -He thought over this point for some time, and the conclusion that he -came to was, that he could easily find out if Edmund meant to play no -more important a _rôle_ than that of partner in Helen Craven’s plot. It -was perfectly clear, that if Edmund had merely acted as he had done at -the suggestion of Helen, he would cease to take any further interest in -Beatrice, unless it was his intention to devote his life to carrying out -the plot. - -In the course of some weeks, he would learn all that could be known on -this point; but meantime his condition was a peculiar one. - -He would have felt mortified had he been certain that Edmund Airey had -not really been stirred by the charm of Beatrice; but he would have been -somewhat uneasy had he felt certain that Edmund was deeply in love -with her. He trusted her implicitly--he felt certain of himself in this -respect. Had he not a right to trust her, after the way in which she -had spoken to him--the way in which she had given herself up to him? But -then he felt that he had made use of such definite arguments to her, in -pointing out the advisability of their parting, as caused it to be -quite possible that she might begin to perceive--after a year or two of -waiting--that there was some value in those arguments of his, after all. - -By the time that he had dined with some people, who had sent him a card -on his return to London, and had subjected himself to the mortifying -influence of some unfamiliar _entrées_, and a conversation with a woman -who was the survivor of the wreck of spiritualism in London, he was no -longer in the exultant mood of the afternoon. - -“A Fool’s Paradise--a Fool’s Paradise!” he murmured, as he sat in an -easy-chair, and gazed into his flickering fire. - -It had been very glorious to think that he was beloved by that exquisite -girl--to think of the kisses of her mouth; but whither was the love -leading him? - -His father’s words could not be forgotten--those words which he had -spoken from beneath the eiderdown of his bed at Castle Innisfail; and -Harold knew that, should he marry Beatrice, his father would certainly -carry out his threat of cutting off his allowance. - -Thus it was that he sat in his chair feeling that, even though Beatrice -had refused to be separated from him, still they were as completely -parted by circumstances as if she had immediately acknowledged the force -of his arguments, and had accepted, his invitation to say good-bye for -ever. - -Thus it was that he cried, “A Fool’s Paradise--a Fool’s Paradise!” as he -thought over the whole matter. - -What were the exact elements of the Paradise in which his exclamation -suggested that he was living, he might have had some difficulty in -defining. - -But then the site of the original Paradise is still a matter of -speculation. - -The next day he went to take lunch with her and her father--he had -promised to do so before he had left her, when they had had their -interview. - -It so happened, however, that he only partook of lunch with Beatrice; -for Mr. Avon had, he learned, been compelled to go to Dublin for some -days, to satisfy himself regarding a document which was in a library in -that city. - -Harold did not grumble at the prospect of a long afternoon by her side; -only he could not help feeling that the _ménage_ of the Avon family -was one of the most remarkable that he had ever known. The historical -investigations of Mr. Avon did not seem to induce him to take a -conventional view of his obligations, as the father of an extremely -handsome girl--assuming that he was aware of the fact of her beauty--or -a pessimistic view of modern society. He seemed to allow Beatrice to be -in every way her own mistress--to receive whatever visitors she pleased; -and to lay no narrow-minded prohibition upon such an incident as -lunching _tête-à-tête_ with a young man, or perhaps--but Harold had no -knowledge of such a case--an old man. - -He wondered if the historian had ever been remonstrated with on this -subject, by such persons as had not had the advantage of scrutinizing -humanity through the medium of state papers. - -Harold thought that, on the whole, he had no reason to take exception -to the liberality of Mr. Avon’s system. He reflected that it was to this -system he was indebted for what promised to be an extremely agreeable -afternoon. - -What he did not reflect upon, however, was, that he was indebted to Mr. -Avon’s peculiarities--some people would undoubtedly call the system a -peculiar one--for a charmingly irresponsible relationship toward the -historian’s daughter. He did not reflect upon the fact, that if the girl -had had the Average Father, or the Vigilant Mother, to say nothing -of the Athletic Brother, he would not have been able, without some -explanation, to visit her, and, on the strength of promising to love -her, to kiss her, as he had now repeatedly done, on the mouth--or even -on the forehead, which is somewhat less satisfying. Everyone knows that -the Vigilant Mother would, by the application of a maternal thumb-screw -which she always carries attached to her bunch of keys, have -extorted from Beatrice a full confession as to the incidents of the -seal-hunt--all except the hunting of the seals--and that this confession -would have led to a visit to the study of the Average Father, in one -corner of which reposes the rack, in working order, for the reception of -the suitor. Everyone knows so much, and also that the alternative of the -paternal rack, is the fist of the Athletic Brother. - -But Mr. Harold Wynne did not seem to reflect upon these points, when he -heard the lightly uttered excuses of Beatrice for her father’s absence, -as they seated themselves at the table in the large dining-room. - -His practised eye made him aware of the fact that Beatrice understood -what he considered to be the essentials of a _recherché_ lunch: a lunch -appeals to the eye; but wine appeals to other senses than the sense of -seeing; and the result of his judgment was to convince him that, if -Mr. Avon was as careless in the affairs of the cellar as he was in the -affairs of the drawing-room, he was to be congratulated upon having -about him someone who understood still hock at any rate. - -In the drawing-room, she busied herself in arranging, in Wedgwood bowls, -some flowers that he had brought her--trifles of sprawling orchids, -Eucharis lilies, and a fairy tropical fern or two, all of which are -quite easy to be procured in London in October for the expenditure of -a few sovereigns. The picture that she made bending over her bowls was -inexpressibly lovely. He sat silent, watching her, while she prattled -away with the artless high spirits of a child. She was surely the -loveliest thing yet made by God. He thought of what the pious old writer -had said about a particular fruit, and he paraphrased it in his own -mind, saying, that doubtless God could make a lovelier thing, but -certainly He had never made it. - -“I am delighted to have such sweet flowers now,” she cried, as she -observed, with critical eyes, the effect of a bit of flaming crimson--an -orchid suggesting a flamingo in flight--over the turquoise edge of -the bowl. “I am delighted, because I have a prospect of other visitors -beside yourself, my lord.” - -“Other visitors?” said he. He wondered if he might venture to suggest -to her the inadvisability of entertaining other visitors during her -father’s absence. - -“Other visitors indeed,” she replied. “I did not tell you yesterday all -that I had to tell. I forget now what we talked about yesterday. How did -we put in our time?” - -She looked up with laughing eyes across the bowl of flowers, that she -held up to her face. - -“I don’t forget--I shall never forget,” said he, in a low voice. - -“You must never forget,” said she. “But to my visitors--who are they, do -you fancy? Don’t try to guess, for if you should succeed I should be too -mortified to be able to tell you that you were right. I will tell you -now. Three days ago--while we were still on the Continent--Miss Craven -called. She promised faithfully to do so at Castle Innisfail--indeed, -she suggested doing so herself; and I found her card waiting for me on -my return with a few words scrawled on it, to tell me that she would -return in some days. I don’t think that anything should be in the same -bowl with a Eucharis lily--even the Venus-hair fern looks out of place -beside it.” - -She had strayed from her firebrand orchids to the white lilies. - -“You are quite right, indeed,” said he. “A lily and you stand alone--you -make everything else in the world seem tawdry.” - -“That is not the message of the lily,” said she. “But supposing that -Miss Craven should call upon me to-day--would you be glad of such a -third person to our party?” - -“I should kill her, if she were a thousand times Helen Craven,” said he, -with a laugh. “But she is only one visitor; who are the others?” - -“Oh, there is only one other, and he is interesting to me only,” she -cried. “Yes, I found Mr. Airey’s card also waiting for me, and on it -were scrawled almost the very words that were on Miss Craven’s card, so -that he may be here at any moment.” Harold did not say a word. He sat -watching her as her hands mingled with their sister-lilies on the table. -Something cold seemed to have clasped his heart--a cold doubt that made -him dumb. - -“Yes,” she continued; “Mr. Airey asked me one night at Castle Innisfail -to let him know where we should go after leaving Ireland.” - -“Yes,” said he, in a slow way; “I heard him make that request of you.” - -“You heard him? But you were taking part in the _tableaux_ in the hall.” - -“I had left the platform and had strayed round to one of the doors. You -told him where you were going?” - -“I told him that we should be in this house in October, and he said -that he would make it a point to be in town early in October, though -Parliament was not to sit until the middle of January. He has kept his -word.” - -“Yes, he has kept his word.” - -Harold felt that cold hand tightening upon his heart. “I think that he -was interested in me,” continued the girl. “I know that I was interested -in him. He knows so much about everything. He is a close friend of -yours, is he not?” - -“Yes,” said Harold, without much enthusiasm. “Yes, he was a close friend -of mine. You see, I had my heart set upon going into Parliament--upon so -humble an object may one’s aspirations be centred--and Edmund Airey was -my adviser.” - -“And what did he advise you to do?” she asked. - -“He advised me to--well, to go into Parliament.” He could not bring -himself to tell her what form exactly Edmund Airey’s advice had assumed. - -“I am sure that his advice was good,” said she. “I think that I would go -to him if I stood in need of advice.” - -“Would you, indeed, Beatrice?” said he. He was at the point of telling -her all that he had learned from Mrs. Mowbray; he only restrained -himself by an effort. - -“I believe that he is both clever and wise.” - -“The two do not always go together, certainly.” - -“They do not. But Mr. Airey is, I think, both.” - -“He has been better than either. To be successful is better than to be -either wise or clever. Mr. Airey has been successful. He will get an -Under-Secretaryship if the Government survives the want of confidence of -the Opposition.” - -“And you will go into Parliament, Harold?” - -He shook his head. - -“That aspiration is past,” said he; “I have chosen the more excellent -career. Now, tell me something of your aspirations, my beloved.” - -“To see you daily--to be near you--to--” - -But the enumeration of the terms of her aspirations is unnecessary. - -How was it that some hours after this, Harold Wynne left the house with -that cold feeling still at his heart? - -Was it a pang of doubt in regard to Beatrice, or a pang of jealousy in -regard to Edmund Airey? - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV.--ON THE HOME. - -HAROLD WYNNE remembered how he had made up his mind to judge whether -or not Edmund Airey had been simply playing, in respect of Beatrice, the -part which, according to Mrs. Mowbray’s story, had been assigned to him -by Helen Craven. He had made up his mind that unless Edmund Airey -meant to go much further than--according to Mrs. Mowbray’s -communication--Helen Craven could reasonably ask him to go, he would not -take the trouble to see Beatrice again. - -Helen could scarcely expect him to give up his life to the furtherance -of her interests with another man. - -Well, he had found that Edmund, so far from showing any intention of -abandoning the position--it has already been defined--which he had -assumed toward Beatrice, had shown, in the plainest possible way, that -he did not mean to lose sight of her. - -And for such a man as he was, to mean so much, meant a great deal, -Harold was forced to acknowledge. - -He spent the remainder of the day which had begun so auspiciously, -wondering if his friend, Edmund Airey, meant to tell Beatrice some day -that he loved her, and, what was very much more important, that he was -anxious to marry her. - -And then that unworthy doubt of which he had become conscious, returned -to him. - -If Edmund Airey, who, at first, had merely been attracted to Beatrice -with a view of furthering what Helen Craven believed to be her -interests, had come to regard her differently--as he, Harold, assumed -that he had--might it not be possible, he asked himself, that Beatrice, -who had just admitted that she had always had some sort of admiration -for Edmund Airey, would------- - -“Never, never, never!” he cried. “She is all that is good and true and -faithful. She is mine--altogether mine!” - -But his mind was in such a condition that the thought which he had tried -to crush down, remained with him to torture him. - -It should not have been a torturing thought, considering that, a few -days before, he had made up his mind that it was his duty to relinquish -Beatrice--to go to her and bid her good-bye for ever. To be sure, he -had failed to realize this honourable intention of his; but what was -honourable at one time was honourable at another, so that the thought -of something occurring to bring about the separation for which he had -professed to be so anxious, should not have been a great trouble to -him--it should have been just the contrary. - -The next day found him in the same condition. The thought occurred -to him, “What if, at this very moment, Edmund Airey is with her, -endeavouring to increase that admiration which he must know Beatrice -entertains for him?” The thought was not a consoling one. Its effect was -to make him think very severely of the laxity of Mr. Avon’s _ménage_, -which would make possible such an interview as he had just imagined. -It was a terrible thing, he thought, for a father to show so utter a -disregard for his responsibilities as to----- - -But here he reflected upon something that had occurred to him in -connection with _tête-à-tête_ interviews, and he thought it better not -to pursue his course of indignant denunciation of the eminent historian. - -He put on an overcoat and went to pay a visit to his sister, who, he had -heard the previous day, was in town for a short time. In another week -she would be entertaining a large party for the pheasant-shooting at her -country-house in Brackenshire, and Harold was to be her guest as well -as Edmund Airey and Helen Craven. It was to this visit that Lord -Fotheringay had alluded in the course of his chamber interview with his -son at Castle Innisfail. - -Harold had now made up his mind that he would not be able to join his -sister’s party, and he thought it better to tell her so than to write to -her to this effect. - -Mrs. Lampson was not at home, the servant said, when he had knocked at -the door of the house in Eaton Square. A party was expected for lunch, -however, so that she would probably return within half an hour. - -Harold said he would wait for his sister, and went upstairs. - -There was one person already in the drawingroom and that person was Lord -Fotheringay. - -Harold greeted him, and found that he was in an extremely good humour. -He had never been in better health, he declared. He felt, he said, -as young as the best of them--he prudently refrained from defining -them--and he was still of the opinion that the Home--the dear old -English Home--was where true and lasting happiness alone was to be -found; and he meant to try the Principality of Monaco later on; for -November was too awful in any part of Britain. Yes, he had seen the -influence of the Home upon exiles in various parts of the world. Had he -not seen strong men weep like children--like innocent children--at -the sight of an English post-mark--the post-mark of a simple English -village? Why had they wept, he asked his son, with the well-gloved -forefinger of the professional moralist outstretched? - -His son declined to hazard an answer. - -They had wept those tears--those bitter tears--Lord Fotheringay said, -with solemn emphasis, because their thoughts went back to that village -home of theirs--the father, the mother, perhaps a sister--who could -tell? - -“Ah, my boy,” he continued, “‘’Mid pleasures and palaces’--‘’mid -pleasures and’--by the way, I looked in at the Rivoli Palace last night. -I heard that there was a woman at that place who did a new dance. I saw -it. A new dance! My dear boy, it wasn’t new when I saw it first, and -that’s--ah, never mind--it’s some years ago. I was greatly disappointed -with it. There’s nothing indecent in it--I will say that for it--but -there’s nothing enlivening. Ah, the old home of burlesque--the old -home--that’s what I was talking about--the Home--the sentiment of the -Home--” - -“Of burlesque?” suggested Harold. - -“Of the devil, sir,” said his father. “Don’t try to be clever; it’s -nearly as bad as being insolent. What about that girl--Helen Craven, I -mean? Have you seen her since you came to town? She’s here. She’ll be at -Ella’s next week. Perhaps it will be your last chance. Heavens above! -To think that a pauper like you should need to be urged to marry such a -girl! A girl with two hundred thousand pounds in cash--a girl belonging -to one of the best families in all--in all Birmingham. Harold, don’t be -a fool! Such a chance doesn’t come every day.” - -Just then Mrs Lampson entered the room and with her, her latest -discovery, the Coming Dramatist. - -Mrs Lampson was invariably making discoveries. But they were mostly -discoveries of quartz; they contained a certain proportion of gold, to -be sure; but when it came to the crushing, they did not yield enough of -the precious metal to pay the incidental expenses of the plant for the -working. - -She had discovered poets and poetesses--the latter by the score. She -had discovered at least one Genius in black and white--his genius being -testified by his refusal to work; and she had discovered a pianoforte -Genius--his genius being proved by the dishevelment of his hair. The -man who had the reputation for being the Greatest Living Atheist was a -welcome guest at her house, and the most ridiculous of living socialists -boasted of having dined at her table. - -She was foremost in every philanthropic movement, and wrote articles to -the magazines, lamenting the low tone of modern society in London. - -She also sneered (in private) at Lady Innisfail. Her latest discovery, -the Coming Dramatist, had had, he proudly declared, his plays returned -to him by the best managers in London, and by the one conscientious -manager in the United States--the last mentioned had not prepaid the -postage, he lamented. - -He was a fearful joy to cherish; but Mrs. Lampson listened to his -egotism at lunch, and tried to prevent her other guests from listening -to him. - -They would not understand him, she thought, and she did not make a -mistake in this matter. - -She got rid of him as soon as possible, and once more breathed freely. -He had not disgraced her--that was so much in his favour. The same could -not always be said of her discoveries. - -The Christian Dynamitard was, people said, the only gentleman who had -ever been introduced ta society by Mrs. Lampson. - -When Harold found his sister alone, he explained to her that it would -be impossible for him to join her party at Abbeylands--Mr. Lampson’s -Bracken-shire place--and his sister laughed and said she supposed that -he had something better on his hands. He assured her that he had nothing -better, only-- - -“There, there,” said she, “I don’t want you to invent an excuse. You -would only have met people whom you know.” - -“Of course,” said Harold, “you’re not foolish enough to ask your -discoveries down to shoot pheasants. I should like to see some of -them in a _battue_ with my best enemies. Yes, I’d hire a window, with -pleasure.” - -“Didn’t he behave well--the Coming Dramatist?” said she, earnestly. “You -cannot say he didn’t behave well--at least for a Coming Person.” - -“He behaved--wonderfully,” said Harold. “Good-bye.” - -She followed him to the door of the room--nay, outside. - -“By the bye,” said she, in a whisper; “do you know anything of a Miss -Avon?” - -“Miss Avon?” said Harold. “Miss Avon. Why, if she is the daughter of -Julius Anthony Avon, the historian, we met her at Castle Innisfail. Why -do you ask me, Ella?” - -“It is so funny,” said she. “Yesterday Mr. Airey called upon me, and -before he left he begged of me to call upon her, and even hinted--he has -got infinite tact--that she would make a charming addition to our party -at Abbeylands.” - -“Ah,” said Harold. - -“And just now papa has been whispering to me about this same Miss Avon. -He commanded me--papa has no tact--to invite her to join us for a week. -I wonder what that means.” - -“What what means?” - -“That--Mr. Airey and papa.” - -“Great Heaven! Ella, what should it mean, except that two men, for whom -we have had a nominal respect, have gone over to the majority of fools?” - -“Oh, is that all? I was afraid that--ah, good-bye.” - -“Good-bye.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI.--ON THE INFLUENCE OF A MAN OF THE WORLD. - -It was true then--what he had surmised was true! Edmund Airey had shown -himself to be actuated by a stronger impulse than a desire to assist -Helen Craven to realize her hopes--so much appeared perfectly plain to -Harold Wynne, as he strolled back to his rooms. - -He was now convinced that Edmund Airey was serious in his attitude in -respect of Beatrice. At Castle Innisfail he had been ready enough to -play the game with counters, on his side at least, as stakes, but now he -meant to play a serious game. - -Harold recalled what proofs he had already received, to justify his -arriving at this conclusion, and he felt that they were ample--he felt -that this conclusion was the only one possible to be arrived at by -anyone acquainted with all that had come under his notice. - -He was quite astounded to hear from his sister that Edmund Airey had -taken so extreme a step as to beg of her to call upon Beatrice, -and invite her to join the Abbeylands party. Whether or not he had -approached Mrs. Lampson in confidence on this matter, the fact of his -having approached her was, in some degree, compromising to himself, and -no one was better aware of this fact than Edmund Airey. He was not an -eager boy to give way to a passion without counting the cost. There was -no more subtle calculator of costs than Edmund Airey, and Harold knew -it. - -What, then, was left for Harold to infer? - -Nothing, except what he had already inferred. - -What then was left for him to do to checkmate the man who was menacing -him? - -He had lived so long in that world, the centre of which is situated -somewhere about Park Lane, and he had come to believe so thoroughly that -the leading characteristic of this world is worldliness, that he had -lost the capacity to trust anyone implicitly. He was unable to bring -himself to risk everything upon the chance of Beatrice’s loving him, in -the face of the worst that might occur. - -Thus it was that the little feeling of distrust which he experienced the -previous day remained with him. It did not increase, but it was there. -Now and again he could feel its cold finger upon his heart, and he knew -that it was there. - -He could not love with that blind, unreasoning, uncalculating love--that -love which knows only heaven and hell, not earth. That perfect love, -which casteth out distrust, was not the love of his world. - -And thus it was that he walked to his rooms, thinking by what means -he could bind that girl to him, so that she should be bound beyond the -possibility of chance, or craft, or worldliness coming between them. - -He had not arrived at any satisfactory conclusion on this subject when -he reached his rooms. - -He was surprised to find waiting for him Mr. Playdell, but he greeted -the man cordially--he had acquired a liking for him, for he perceived -that, with all his eccentricities--all his crude theories that he tried -to vivify by calling them principles, he was still acting faithfully -toward Archie Brown, and was preventing him from squandering hundreds of -pounds where Archie might have squandered thousands. - -“You are naturally surprised to see me, Mr. Wynne,” said Playdell. “I -dare say that most men would think that I had taken a liberty in making -an uninvited call like this.” - -“I, at any rate, think nothing of the sort, Mr. Playdell,” said Harold. - -“I am certain that you do not,” said Mr. Play-dell. “I am certain that -you are capable of doing me justice--yes, on some points.” - -“I hope that I am, Mr. Playdell.” - -“I know that you are, Mr. Wynne. You are not one of those silly persons, -wise in their own conceit, who wink at one another when my name is -mentioned, and suggest that the unfrocked priest is making a very fair -thing out of his young patron.” - -“I believe that your influence over him is wholly for good, Mr. -Playdell. If he were to allow you the income of a Bishop instead of -that of a Dean I believe that he would still save money--a great deal of -money--by having you near him.” - -“And you are in no way astray, Mr. Wynne. I was prepared for what people -would say when I accepted the situation that Archie offered me, but the -only stipulation that I made was that my accounts were to be audited by -a professional man, and monthly. Thus it is that I protect myself. Every -penny that I receive is accounted for.” - -“That is a very wise plan, Mr. Playdell, but--” - -“But it has nothing to do with my coming here to-day? That is what you -are too polite to say. You are right, Mr. Wynne. I have not come here to -talk about myself and my systems, but about our friend Archie. You have -great influence over him.” - -“I’m afraid I haven’t much. If I had, I wouldn’t hesitate to tell him -that he is making an ass of himself.” - -“You have come to the point at once, Mr. Wynne.” - -Mr. Playdell had risen from his chair and was walking up and down the -room with his head bent. Now he stood opposite to Harold. - -“The point?” said Harold. - -“The point is that he is being robbed right and left through the medium -of the Legitimate Theatre, and a stop must be put to it,” said Playdell. - -“And you think that I should make the attempt to put a stop to this -foolishness of his? My dear Mr. Playdell, if I were to suggest to Archie -that he is making an ass of himself over this particular matter, I -should never have another chance of exercising my influence over him for -good or bad. I have always known that Mrs. Mowbray is one of the most -expensive tastes in England. But when the beauty of Mrs. Mowbray is -to be exploited with the beauty of the poetry of Shakespeare, and when -these gems are enclosed in so elaborate a setting as the Legitimate -Theatre--well, I suppose Archie’s millions will hold out. There’s a deal -of spending in three millions, Mr. Playdell.” - -“His millions will hold out,” said Mr. Playdell. “And so will he,” - laughed Harold. “I have known Mrs. Mowbray for several years, and she -has never ruined any man except her husband, and he is not worth talking -about. She has always liked young men with wealth so enormous that even -her powers of spending money can make no impression on it.” - -“Mr. Wynne, you can have no notion what that theatre has cost -Archie--what it is daily costing him. Eight hundred pounds a week -wouldn’t cover the net loss of that ridiculous business--that trailing -of Shakespeare in the mire, to gratify the vanity of a woman. I know -what men are when they are very young. If I were to talk to Archie -seriously on this subject, he would laugh at me; if he did not, he would -throw something at me. The result would be _nil_.” - -“Unless he was a good shot with a casual missile.” - -“Mr. Wynne, he would not listen to me; but he would listen to you--I -know that he would. You could talk to him with all the authority of a -man of the world--a man in Society.” - -“Mr. Playdell,” said Harold, shaking his head, “if there’s no fool like -the old fool, there’s no ass like the young ass. Now, I can assure you, -on the authority of a man of the world--you know what such an authority -is worth--that to try and detach Archie from his theatre nonsense just -now by means of a lecture, would be as impossible as to detach a limpet -from a rock by a sermon on--let us say--the flexibility of the marriage -bond.” - -“Alas! alas!” said Mr. Playdell. - -“The only way that Archie can be induced to throw over Mrs. Mowbray and -Shakespeare and suchlike follies, is by inducing him to form a stronger -attachment elsewhere.” - -“The last state of that man might be worse than the first, Mr. Wynne.” - -“Might--yes, it might be, but that is no reason why it should be. The -young ass takes to thistles, because it has never known the enjoyment of -a legitimate pasture.” - -“The legitimate pasture is some distance away from the Legitimate -Theatre, Mr. Wynne.” - -“I agree with you. Now, the thought has just occurred to me that I might -get Archie brought among decent people, for the first time in his life. -My sister, Mrs. Lampson, is having a party down at her husband’s place -in Brackenshire, for the pheasant-shooting. Why shouldn’t Archie be one -of the party? There are a number of decent men going, and decent women -also. None of the men will try to get the better of him.” - -“And the women will not try to make a fool of him?” - -“I won’t promise that--the world can’t cease to revolve on its axis -because Archie Brown has a tendency to giddiness.” - -Mr. Playdell was grave. Then he said, thoughtfully, “Whatever the women -may be, they can’t be of the stamp of Mrs. Mowbray.” - -“You may trust my sister for that. You may also trust her to see that -they are less beautiful than Mrs. Mowbray,” remarked Harold. - -Mr. Playdell pondered. - -“Pheasant-shooting is expensive in its way,” said he. “The preservation -of grouse runs away with a good deal of money also, I am told. Race -horses, it is generally understood, entail considerable outlay. Put -them all together, and you only come within measurable distance of -Mrs. Mowbray and Shakespeare as a pastime--with nothing to show for the -money--absolutely nothing to show for the money.” - -“Except Mrs. Mowbray and Shakespeare.” - -“Mr. Wynne, I believe that your kind suggestion may be the saving of -that lad,” said Playdell. - -“Oh, it’s the merest chance,” said Harold. “He may grow sick of the -whole business after the first _battue_.” - -“He won’t. I’ve known men saved from destruction by scoring a century in -a first-class cricket match: they gave themselves up to cricket, to the -exclusion of other games less healthy. If Archie takes kindly to the -pheasants, he may make up his mind to buy a place and preserve them. -That will be a healthy occupation for him. You will give him to -understand that it’s the proper thing to do, Mr. Wynne.” - -“You may depend upon me. I’ll write to my sister to invite him. It’s -only an experiment.” - -“It will succeed, Mr. Wynne--it will succeed, I feel that it will. If -you only knew, as I do, how he is being fooled, you would understand my -earnestness--you have long ago forgiven my intrusion. Give me a chance -of serving you in return, Mr. Wynne. That’s all I ask.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII.--ON THE DEFECTIVE LINK. - -HAROLD had a note written to Mrs. Lampson, begging her to invite his -friend, Mr. Archie Brown, to join her party at Abbeylands, almost before -Mr. Playdell had left the street. He knew that his sister would be very -glad to have Archie. All the world had a general notion of Archie’s -millions; and Abbeylands was one of those immense houses that can -accommodate a practically unlimited number of guests. The property -had been bought from a nobleman, who had been brought to the verge of -bankruptcy by trying to maintain it. Mr. Lampson, a patriotic American, -had come to his relief, and had taken the place off his hands. - -That is what all truly patriotic Americans do when they have an -opportunity. - -The new-world democracy comes to the rescue of the old-world -aristocracy, and thus a venerable institution is preserved from -annihilation. - -Harold posted his letter as he went out to dine with a man who was a -member of the Carlton Club, and zealous in heating up recruits for the -Conservative party. He thought that Harold might possibly be open to -conviction, not, of course, on the question of the righteousness of -certain principles, but on the question of the direction in which the -cat was about to jump. The jumping cat is the dominant power in modern -politics. - -Harold ate his dinner, and listened patiently to the man whose -acquaintance with the tendencies of every genus of the political _felis_ -was supposed to be extraordinary. He said little. Before he had gone to -Castle Innisfail the subject would have interested him greatly, but now -he thought that Archie Brown’s inanities were preferable to those of the -politician. - -He was just enough to acknowledge, however, that the cigar with which he -left the Carlton was as good a one as he had ever smoked. So that there -was some advantage in being a Conservative after all. - -He walked round St. James’s Square, for the night was warm and fine. His -mind was not conscious of having received anything during the previous -two hours upon which it would be profitable to ponder. He thought over -the question which he had put to himself previously--the question of how -he could bind Beatrice to him--how he could make her certainly his own, -and thus banish that cold distrust of which he now and again became -aware--no, it was not exactly distrust, it was only a slightly defective -link in the chain of complete trust. - -She loved him and she promised to love him. He reflected upon this, and -he asked himself what more could he want. What bond stronger than her -word could he desire to have? - -“Oh, I will trust her for ever--for ever,” he murmured. “If she is not -true, then there never was truth on earth.” - -He fancied that he had dismissed the matter from his mind with this -exorcism. - -And so he had. - -But it so happens that some persons are so constituted that there is but -the slenderest connection between their mind and their heart. Something -that appeals very forcibly to their mind will not touch their heart in -the least. They are Nature’s “sports.” - -Harold Wynne was one of these people. He had made up his mind that, on -the question of implicitly trusting Beatrice, nothing more remained to -be said. There was still, however, that cold finger upon his heart. - -But having made up his mind that nothing more remained to be said on the -question, he was logical enough--for logic is also a mental attribute, -though by no means universally distributed--to think of other matters. - -He began to think about Mr. Playdell, and his zeal for the reform of -Archie. Harold’s respect for Mr. Playdell had materially increased since -the morning. At first he had been inclined to look with suspicion upon -the man who had, by the machinery of the Church, been prohibited from -discharging the functions of a priest of that Church, though, of course, -he was free to exercise that unimportant function known as preaching. He -could not preach within a church, however. If he wished to try and save -souls by preaching, that was his own business. He would not do so with -the sanction of the Church. He was anxious to save the soul of Archie -Brown, at any rate. He assumed that Archie had a soul in embryo, ready -to be hatched, and it was clear to Harold that Mr. Playdell was anxious -to save it from being addled before it had pecked its way out of its -shell. Therefore Harold had a considerable respect for Mr. Playdell, -though he had been one of the unprofitable servants of the Church. - -He thought of the earnest words of the man--of the earnest way in which -he had begged to be given the chance of returning the service, which he -believed was about to be done to him by Harold. - -He had been greatly in earnest; but that fact only made his words the -more ridiculous. - -“What service could he possibly do me?” Harold thought, when he had -had his laugh, recalling the outstretched hand of Mr. Playdell, and his -eager eyes. “_What service could he possibly do me? What service?_” - -He was rooted to the pavement. The driver of a passing hansom pulled -up opposite him, taking the fact of his stopping so suddenly as an -indication that he wanted a hansom. - -He took no notice of the hansom, and it passed up the square. -He remained so long lost in thought, that his cigar, so strongly -impregnated with sound Conservative principles, went out like any -Radical weed, or the penny Pickwick of the Labour Processionist. - -He dropped the unsmoked end, and felt for his pocket-handkerchief. He -raised his hat and wiped his forehead. - -Then he took a stroll into Piccadilly and on to Knightsbridge. He went -down Sloane Street, and into Chelsea, returning by the Embankment to -Westminster--the clock was chiming the hour of 2 a.m. as he passed. - -But the same clock had struck three before he got into bed, and five -before he fell asleep. - - -END OF VOL. II. - - - - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg’s A Gray Eye or So, by Frank Frankfort Moore - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GRAY EYE OR SO *** - -***** This file should be named 51945-0.txt or 51945-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/9/4/51945/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -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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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: A Gray Eye or So - In Three Volumes--Volume II - -Author: Frank Frankfort Moore - -Release Date: May 2, 2016 [EBook #51945] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GRAY EYE OR SO *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - - - - -A GRAY EYE OR SO - -By Frank Frankfort Moore - -In Three Volumes--Volume II - -Sixth Edition - -London, Hutchinson & Co., 34 Paternoster Row - -1893 - - - - -A GRAY EYE OR SO. - - - - -CHAPTER XX.--ON AN OAK SETTEE. - -HE was still pondering over the many aspects of the question which, to -his mind, needed solution, when he returned to the Castle, to find Lord -Fotheringay in a chair by the side of a gaunt old man who, at one -period of his life, had probably been tall, but who was now stooped in -a remarkable way. The stranger seemed very old, so that beside him -Lord Fotheringay looked comparatively youthful. Of this fact no one was -better aware than Lord Fotheringay. - -Edmund Airey had seen portraits of the new guest, and did not require to -be told that he was Julius Anthony Avon, the historian of certain periods. - -The first thought that occurred to him when he saw the two men side by -side, was that Lord Fotheringay would not appear ridiculous merely as -the son-in-law of Mr. Avon. To the casual observer at any rate he might -have posed as the son of Mr. Avon. - -He himself seemed to be under the impression that he might pass as -Mr. Avon's grandson, for he was extremely sportive in his presence, -attitudinizing on his settee in a way that Edmund knew must have been -agonizing to his rheumatic joints. Edmund smiled. He felt that he was -watching the beginning of a comedy. - -He learned that Mr. Avon had yielded to the persuasion of Lady Innisfail -and had consented to join his daughter at the Castle for a few days. -He was not fond of going into society; but it so happened that Castle -Innisfail had been the centre of an Irish conspiracy at the early -part of the century, and this fact made the acceptance by him of Lady -Innisfail's invitation a matter of business. - -Hearing the nature of the work at which he was engaged, Lord Fotheringay -had lost no time in expounding to him, in that airy style which he -had at his command, the various mistakes that had been made by several -generations of statesmen in dealing with the Irish question. The -fundamental error which they had all committed was taking the Irish and -their rebellions and conspiracies too seriously. - -This theory he expounded to the man who was writing a biographical -dictionary of Irish informers, and was about to publish his seventh -volume, concluding the letter B. - -Mr. Avon listened, gaunt and grim, while Lord Fotheringay gracefully -waved away statesman after statesman who had failed signally, by reason -of taking Ireland and the Irish seriously. - -There was something grim also in Edmund Airey's smile as he glanced at -this beginning of the comedy. - -That night Miss Stafford added originality to the ordinary terrors of -her recital. She explained that hitherto she had merely interpreted -the verses of others: now, however, she would draw upon her store of -original poems. - -Of course, Edmund Airey was outside the drawingroom while this was going -on. So were many of his fellow-guests, including Helen Craven. Edmund -found her beside him in a secluded part of the hall. He was rather -startled by her sudden appearance. He forgot to greet her with one of -the clever things that he reserved for her and other appreciative young -women--for he still found a few, as any man with a large income may, if -he only keeps his eyes open. "What a fool you must think me," were the -words with which Miss Craven greeted him, so soon as he became aware of -her presence. - -Strange to say, he had a definite idea that she had said something -clever--at any rate something that impressed him more strongly than ever -with the idea that she was a clever girl. - -And yet she had assumed that he must think her a fool. - -"A fool?" said he, "To think you so would be to write myself down one, -Miss Craven." - -"Mr Airey," said she, "I am a woman. Long ago I was a girl. You will -thus believe me when I tell you that I never was frank in all my life. I -want to begin now." - -"Ah, now I know the drift of your remark," said he. "A fool. Yes, you -made a good beginning: but supposing that I were to be frank, where -would you be then?" - -"I want you to begin also, Mr Airey," said she. - -"To begin? Oh, I made my start years ago--when I entered Parliament," -said he. "I was perfectly frank with the Opposition when I pointed out -their mistakes. I have never yet been frank with a friend, however. That -is why I still have a few left." - -"You must be frank with me now; if you won't it doesn't matter: I'll be -so to you. I admit that I behaved like an idiot; but you were -responsible for it--yes, largely." - -"That is a capital beginning. Now tell me what you have done or left -undone--above all, tell me where my responsibility comes in." - -"You like Harold Wynne?" - -"You suggest that a mere liking involves a certain responsibility?" - -"I love him." - -"Great heavens!" - -"Why should you be startled at the confession when you have been aware -of the fact for some time?" - -"I never met a frank woman before. It is very terrible. Perhaps I shall -get used to it." - -"Why will you not drop that tone?" she said, almost piteously. "Cannot -you see how serious the thing is to me?" - -"It is quite as serious to me," he replied. "Men have confided in -me--mostly fools--a woman never. Pray do not continue in that strain." - -"Then find words for me--be frank." - -"I will. You mean to say, Miss Craven, that I think you a fool because, -acting on the hint which I somewhat vaguely, but really in good faith, -dropped, you tried to impersonate the figure of the legend at that -ridiculous cave. Is not that what you would say if you had the courage -to be thoroughly frank?" - -"Thank you," said she, in a still weaker voice. "It is not so easy being -frank all in a moment." - -"No, not if one has accustomed oneself to--let us say good manners," he -added. - -"When I started for the boats after you had all left for that nonsense -at the village, I felt certain that you were my friend as well as Harold -Wynne's, and that you had good reason for believing that he would be -about the cave shortly after our hour of dining. I'm not very romantic." - -"Pardon me," said he. "You are not quite frank. If you were you would -say that, while secretly romantic, you follow the example of most young -women nowadays in ridiculing romance." - -"Quite right," she said. "I admitted just now that I found it difficult -to be frank all in a moment. Anyhow I believed that if I were to play -the part of the Wraith of the Cave within sight of Harold Wynne, he -might--oh, how could I have been such a fool? But you--you, I say, were -largely responsible for it, Mr. Airey." She was now speaking not merely -reproachfully but fiercely. "Why should you drop those hints--they -were much more than hints--about his being so deeply impressed with the -romance--about his having gone to the cave on the previous evening, if -you did not mean me to act upon them?" - -"I did mean you to act upon them," said he. "I meant that you and -he should come together last night, and I know that if you had come -together, he would have asked you to marry him. I meant all that, -because I like him and I like you too--yes, in spite of your frankness." - -"Thank you," said she, giving him her hand. "You forgive me for being -angry just now?" - -"The woman who is angry with a man without cause pays him the greatest -compliment in her power," he remarked. "Fate was against us." - -"You think that she is so very--very pretty?" said Miss Craven. - -"She?--fate?--I'll tell you what I think. I think that Harold Wynne has -met with the greatest misfortune of his life." - -"If you believe that, I know that I have met with the greatest of my -life." - -The corner of the hall was almost wholly in shadow. The settee upon -which Mr. Airey and Miss Craven were sitting, was cut off from the rest -of the place by the thigh hone of the great skeleton elk. Between the -ribs of the creature, however, some rays of light passed from one of -the lamps; and, as Mr. Airey looked sympathetically into the face of his -companion, he saw the gleam of a tear upon her cheek. - -He was deeply impressed--so deeply that some moments had passed before -he found himself wondering what she would say next. For a moment he -forgot to be on his guard, though if anyone had described the details -of a similar scene to him, he would probably have smiled while remarking -that when the lamplight gleams upon a tear upon the cheek of a young -woman of large experience, is just when a man needs most to be on his -guard, He felt in another moment, however, that something was coming. - -He waited for it in silence. - -It seemed to him in that pause that he was seated by the side of someone -whom he had never met before. The girl who was beside him seemed to -have nothing in common with Helen Craven. So greatly does a young woman -change when she becomes frank. - -This is why so many husbands declare--when they are also frank--that -the young women whom they marry are in every respect different from the -young women who promise to be their wives. - -"What is going to happen?" Helen asked him in a steady voice. - -"God knows," said he. - -"I saw them together just after they left you this morning," said she. -"I was at one of the windows of the Castle, they were far along the -terrace; but I'm sure that he said something to her about her eyes." - -"I should not be surprised if he did," said Edmund. "Her eyes invite -comment." - -"I believe that in spite of her eyes she is much the same as any other -girl." - -"Is that to the point?" he asked. He was a trifle disappointed in her -last sentence. It seemed to show him that, whatever Beatrice might be, -Helen was much the same as other girls. - -"It is very much to the point," said she. "If she is like other girls -she will hesitate before marrying a penniless man." - -"I agree with you," said he. "But if she is like other girls she will -not hesitate to love a penniless man." - -"Possibly--if, like me, she can afford to do so. But I happen to know -that she cannot afford it. This brings me up to what has been on my mind -all day. You are, I know, my friend; you are Harold Wynne's also. Now, -if you want to enable him to gratify his reasonable ambition--if you -want to make him happy--to make me happy--you will prevent him from ever -asking Beatrice Avon to marry him." - -"And I am prepared to do so much for him--for you--for her. But how can -I do it?" - -"You can take her away from him. You know how such things are done. You -know that if a distinguished man such as you are, with a large income -such as you possess, gives a girl to understand that he is, let us say, -greatly interested in her, she will soon cease to be interested in any -undistinguished and penniless son of a reprobate peer who may be before -her eyes." - -"I have seen such a social phenomenon," said he. "Does your proposition -suggest that I should marry the young woman with 'a gray eye or so'?" - -"You may marry her if you please--that's entirely a matter for yourself. -I don't see any need for you to go that length. Have I not kept my -promise to be frank?" - -"You have," said he. - -She had risen from the settee. She laid her hand on one of his that -rested on a projection of the old oak carving, and in another instant -she was laughing in front of Norah Innisfail, who was rendered even more -proper than usual through having become acquainted with Miss Stafford's -notions of originality in verse-making. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI.--ON THE ELEMENTS OF PARTY POLITICS. - - -MR. AIREY was actually startled by the suggestion which Miss Craven -had made with, on the whole, considerable tact as well as inconceivable -frankness. - -He had been considering all the afternoon the possibility of carrying -out the idea which it seemed Helen Craven had on her mind as well; but -it had never occurred to him that his purpose might be achieved through -the means suggested by the young woman who had just gone from his side. - -His first impression was that the proposal made to him was the cruellest -that had ever come from one girl in respect of another girl. He had -never previously had an idea that a girl could be so heartless as to -make such a suggestion as that which had come from Helen Craven; but in -the course of a short space of time, he found it expedient to revise his -first judgment on this matter. Helen Craven meant to marry Harold--so -much could scarcely be doubted--and her marrying him would be the best -thing that could happen to him. She was anxious to prevent his marrying -Miss Avon; and surely this was a laudable aim, considering that marrying -Miss Avon would be the worst thing that could happen to him--and to Miss -Avon as well. - -It might possibly be regarded as cruel by some third censors for Miss -Craven to suggest that he, Edmund, after leading the other girl to -believe that he was desirous of marrying her--or at least to believe -that she might have a chance of marrying him--might stop short. To be -sure, Miss Craven had not, with all her frankness, said that her idea -was that he should refrain from asking the other girl to marry him, but -only that the question was one that concerned himself alone. - -He thought over this point for some time, and the conclusion he came -to was that, after all, whether or not the cynical indifference of the -suggestion amounted to absolute cruelty, the question concerned himself -alone. Even if he were not to ask her to marry him after leading her to -suppose that he intended doing so, he would at any rate have prevented -her from the misery of marrying Harold; and that was something for which -she might be thankful to him. He would also have saved her from the -degradation of receiving a proposal of marriage from Lord Fotheringay; -and that was also something for which she might be thankful to him. - -Being a strictly party politician, he regarded expediency as the -greatest of all considerations. He was not devoid of certain scruples -now and again; but he was capable of weighing the probable advantages of -yielding to these scruples against the certain advantages of--well, of -throwing them to the winds. - -For some minutes after Helen Craven had left him he subjected his -scruples to the balancing process, and the result was that he found they -were as nothing compared with the expediency of proceeding as Helen had -told him that it was advisable for him to proceed. - -He made up his mind that he would save the girl--that was how he put it -to himself--and he would take extremely good care that he saved himself -as well. Marriage would not suit him. Of this he was certain. People -around him were beginning to be certain of it also. The mothers -in Philistia had practically come to regard him as a _quantit -ngligeable_. The young women did not trouble themselves about him, -after a while. It would not suit him to marry a young woman with -lustrous eyes, he said to himself as he left his settee; but it would -suit him to defeat the machinations of Lord Fotheringay, and to induce -his friend Harold Wynne to pursue a sensible course. - -He found himself by the side of Beatrice Avon before five minutes had -passed, and he kept her thoroughly amused for close upon an hour--he -kept her altogether to himself also, though many chances of leaving his -side were afforded the girl by considerate youths, and by one smiling -person who had passed the first bloom of youth and had reached that -which is applied by the cautious hare's foot in the hand of a valet. - -Before the hour of brandy-and-sodas and resplendent smoking-jackets had -come, the fact of his having kept Beatrice Avon so long entertained had -attracted some attention. - -It had attracted the attention of Miss Craven, who commented upon it -with a confidential smile at Harold. It attracted the attention of -Harold's father, who commented upon it with a leer and a sneer. It -attracted the attention of Lady Innisfail, who commented upon it with a -smile that caused the dainty dimple in her chin to assume the shape of -the dot in a well-made note of interrogation. - -It also attracted the attention of quite a number of other persons, but -they reserved their comments, which was a wise thing for them to do. - -As she said good-night to him, she seemed, Edmund Airey thought, to be -a trifle fascinated as well as fascinating. He felt that he had had a -delightful hour--it was far more delightful than the half hour which he -had passed on the settee at the rear of the skeleton elk. - -His feeling in this matter simply meant that it was far more agreeable -to him to see a young woman admiring his cleverness than it was to -admire the cleverness of another young woman. - -He enjoyed his smoke by the side of the judge; for when a man is -absorbed in the thoughts of his own cleverness he can still get a -considerable amount of passive enjoyment out of the story of How the -Odds fell from Thirteen to Five to Six to Four against Porcupine for -some prehistoric Grand National. - -Harold Wynne now and again glanced across the hall at the man who -professed to be his best friend. He could perceive without much trouble -that Edmund Airey was particularly well pleased with himself. - -This meant, he thought, that Edmund had been particularly well pleased -with Beatrice Avon. - -Lord Fotheringay was too deeply absorbed in giving point to a story, -founded upon personal experience, which he was telling to his host, -to give a moment's attention to Edmund Airey, or to make an attempt to -interpret his aspect. - -It was only when his valet was putting him carefully to bed--he required -very careful handling--that he recollected the effective way in which -Airey had snubbed him, when he had made an honest attempt to reach Miss -Avon conversationally. - -He now found time to wonder what Airey meant by preventing the girl from -being entertained--Lord Fotheringay assumed, as a matter of course, -that the girl had not been entertained--all the evening. He had no head, -however, for considering such a question in all its aspects. He only -resolved that in future he would take precious good care that when there -was any snubbing in the air, he would be the dispenser of it, not the -recipient. - -Lord Fotheringay was not a man of genius, but upon occasions he could -be quite as disagreeable as if he were. He had studied the art of -administering snubs, and though he had never quite succeeded in snubbing -a member of Parliament of the same standing as Mr. Airey, yet he felt -quite equal to the duty, should he find it necessary to make an effort -in this direction. - -He was sleeping the sleep of the reprobate, long before his son had -succeeded in sleeping the sleep of the virtuous. Harold had more to -think about, as well as more capacity of thinking, than his father. He -was puzzled at the attitude of his friend and counsellor, Edmund Airey. -What on earth could he have meant by appropriating Beatrice Avon, Harold -wondered. He assumed that Airey had some object in doing what he had -done. He knew that his friend was not the man to do anything without -having an object in view. Previously he had been discreet to an -extraordinary degree in his attitude toward women. He had never even -made love to those matrons to whom it is discreet to make love. If he -had ever done so Harold knew that he would have heard of it; for there -is no fascination in making love to other men's wives, unless it is well -known in the world that you are doing so. The school-boy does not -smoke his cigarette in private. The fascination of the sin lies in his -committing it so that it gets talked about. - -Yes, Airey had ever been discreet, Harold knew, and he quite failed to -account for his lapse--assuming that it was indiscreet to appropriate -Beatrice Avon for an hour, and to keep her amused all that time. - -Harold himself had his own ideas of what was discreet in regard to young -women, and he had acted up to them. He did not consider that, so far as -the majority of young women were concerned, he should be accredited with -much self-sacrifice for his discretion. - -Had a great temperance movement been set on foot in Italy in the days -of Csar Borgia, the total abstainers would not have earned commendation -for their self-sacrifice. Harold Wynne had been discreet in regard to -most women simply because he was afraid of them. He was afraid that he -might some day be led to ask one of them to marry him--one of them whom -he would regard as worse than a Borgia poison ever after. - -The caution that he had displayed in respect of Helen Craven showed how -discreet he had accustomed himself to be. - -He reflected, however, that in respect of Beatrice Avon he had thrown -discretion to the winds From the moment that he had drawn her hands to -his by the fishing line, he had given himself up to her. He had been -without the power to resist. - -Might it not, then, be the same with Edmund Airey? Might not Edmund, who -had invariably been so guarded as to be wholly free from reproach so -far as women were concerned, have found it impossible to maintain that -attitude in the presence of Beatrice? - -And if this was so, what would be the result? - -This was the thought which kept Harold Wynne awake and uncomfortable for -several hours during that night. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII.--ON THE WISDOM OP THE MATRONS. - -LADY INNISFAIL made a confession to one of her guests--a certain Mrs. -Burgoyne--who was always delighted to play the _rle_ of receiver of -confessions. The date at which Lady Innisfail's confession was made was -three days after the arrival of Beatrice Avon at the Castle, and its -subject was her own over-eagerness to secure a strange face for the -entertainment of her guests. - -"I thought that the romantic charm which would attach to that girl, who -seemed to float up to us out of the mist--leaving her wonderful eyes out -of the question altogether--would interest all my guests," said she. - -"And so it did, if I may speak for the guests," said Mrs. Burgoyne. -"Yes, we were all delighted for nearly an entire day." - -"I am glad that my aims were not wholly frustrated," said Lady -Innisfail. "But you see the condition we are all in at present." - -"I cannot deny it," replied Mrs. Burgoyne, with a sigh. "My dear, a new -face is almost as fascinating as a new religion." - -"More so to some people--generally men," said Lady Innisfail. "But who -could have imagined that a young thing like that--she has never been -presented, she tells me--should turn us all topsy turvy?" - -"She has a good deal in her favour," remarked Mrs. Burgoyne. "She is -fresh, her face is strange, she neither plays, sings, nor recites, and -she is a marvellously patient listener." - -"That last comes through being the daughter of a literary man," said -Lady Innisfail. "The wives and daughters of poets and historians and -the like are compelled to be patient listeners. They are allowed to do -nothing else." - -"I dare say. Anyhow that girl has made the most of her time since she -came among us." - -"She has. The worst of it is that no one could call her a flirt." - -"I suppose not. But what do you call a girl who is attractive to all -men, and who makes all the men grumpy, except the one she is talking -to?" - -"I call her a--a clever girl," replied Lady Innisfail. "Don't we all aim -at that sort of thing?" - -"Perhaps we did--once," said Mrs. Burgoyne, who was a year or two -younger than her hostess. "I should hope that our aims are different -now. We are too old, are we not?--you and I--for any man to insult us by -making love to us." - -"A woman is never too old to be insulted, thank God," said Lady -Innisfail; and Mrs. Burgoyne's laugh was not the laugh of a matron who -is shocked. - -"All the same," added Lady Innisfail, "our pleasant party threatens to -become a fiasco, simply because I was over-anxious to annex a new face. -I had set my heart upon bringing Harold Wynne and Helen Craven together; -but now they have become hopelessly good friends." - -"She is very kind to him." - -"Yes, that's the worst of it; she is kind and he is indifferent--he -treats her as if she were his favourite sister." - -"Are matters so bad as that?" - -"Quite. But when the other girl is listening to what another man is -saying to her, Harold Wynne's face is a study. He is as clearly in -love with the other girl as anything can be. That, old reprobate--his -father--has his aims too--horrid old creature! Mr. Durdan has ceased to -study the Irish question with a deep-sea cast of hooks in his hand: -he spends some hours every morning devising plans for spending as many -minutes by the side of Beatrice. I do believe that my dear husband would -have fallen a victim too, if I did not keep dinning into his ears that -Beatrice is the loveliest creature of our acquaintance. I lured him on -to deny it, and now we quarrel about it every night." - -"I believe Lord Innisfail rather dislikes her," said Mrs. Burgoyne. - -"I'm convinced of it," said Lady Innisfail. "But what annoys me most is -the attitude of Mr. Airey. He professed to be Harold's friend as well as -Helen's, and yet he insists on being so much with Beatrice that Harold -will certainly be led on to the love-making point--" - -"If he has not passed it already," suggested Mrs. Burgoyne. - -"If he has not passed it already; for I need scarcely tell you, my dear -Phil, that a man does not make love to a girl for herself alone, but -simply because other men make love to her." - -"Of course." - -"So that it is only natural that Harold should want to make love to -Beatrice when he is led to believe that Edmund Airey wants to marry -her." - -"The young fool! Why could he not restrain his desire until Mr. Airey -has married her? But do you really think that Mr. Airey does want to -marry her?" - -"I believe that Harold Wynne believes so--that is enough for the -present. Oh, no. You'll not find me quite so anxious to annex a strange -face another time." - -From the report of this confidential duologue it may possibly be -perceived, first, that Lady Innisfail was a much better judge of the -motives and impulses of men than Miss Craven was; and, secondly, that -the presence of Beatrice at the Castle had produced a marked impression -upon the company beneath its roof. - -It was on the evening of the day after the confidential duologue just -reported that there was an entertainment in the hall of the Castle. -It took the form of _tableaux_ arranged after well-known pictures, and -there was certainly no lack of actors and actresses for the figures. - -Mary Queen of Scots was, of course, led to execution, and Marie -Antoinette, equally as a matter of course, appeared in her prison. Then -Miss Stafford did her best to realize the rapt young woman in Mr. Sant's -"The Soul's Awaking"--Miss Stafford was very wide awake indeed, some -scoffer suggested; and Miss Innisfail looked extremely pretty--a -hostess's daughter invariably looks pretty--as "The Peacemaker" in Mr. -Marcus Stone's picture. - -Beatrice Avon took no part in the _tableaux_--the other girls had not -absolutely insisted on her appearing beside them on the stage that had -been fitted up; they had an+ informal council together, Miss Craven -being stage-manager, and they had come to the conclusion that they could -get along very nicely without her assistance. - -Some of them said that Beatrice preferred flirting with the men. However -this may have been, the fact remained that Harold, when he had washed -the paint off his face--he had been the ill-tempered lover, Miss Craven -being the young woman with whom he was supposed to have quarrelled, -requiring the interposition of a sweet Peacemaker in the person of Miss -Innisfail--went round by a corridor to the back of the hall, and stood -for a few minutes behind a 'portiere that took the place of a door at -one of the entrances. The hall was, of course, dimly lighted to make -the contrast with the stage the greater, so that he could not see the -features of the man who was sitting on the chair at the end of the row -nearest the _portiere_; but the applause that greeted a reproduction of -the picture of a monk shaving himself, having previously used no other -soap than was supplied by a particular maker, had scarcely died away -before Harold heard the voice of Edmund Airey say, in a low and earnest -tone, to someone who was seated beside him, "I do hope that before you -go away, you will let me know where you will next pitch your tent. I -don't want to lose sight of you." - -"If you wish I shall let you know when I learn it from my father," was -the reply that Harold heard, clearly spoken in the voice of Beatrice -Avon. - -Harold went back into the billowy folds of the tapestry curtain, and -then into the corridor. The words that he had overheard had startled -him. Not merely were the words spoken by Edmund Airey the same as he -himself had employed a few days before to Beatrice, but her reply was -practically the same as the reply which she had made to him. - -When the last of the figurantes had disappeared from the stage, and when -the buzz of congratulations was sounding through the hall, now fully -lighted, Harold was nowhere to be seen. - -Only a few of the most earnest of the smokers were still in the hall -when, long past midnight, he appeared at the door leading to the outer -hall or porch. His shoes were muddy and his shirt front was pulpy, for -the night was a wet one. - -He explained to his astonished friends that it was invariably the case -that putting paint and other auxiliaries to "making up" on his face, -brought on a headache, which he had learned by experience could only be -banished by a long walk in the open air. - -Well, he had just had such a walk. - -He did not expect that his explanation would carry any weight with it; -and the way he was looked at by his friends made him aware of the fact -that, in giving them credit for more sense than to believe him, he was -doing them no more than the merest justice. - -No one who was present on his return placed the smallest amount -of credence in his story. What many of them did believe was of no -consequence. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII.--ON THE ATLANTIC. - -THE boats were scattered like milestones--as was stated by -Brian--through the sinuous length of Lough Suangorm. The cutter yacht -_Acushla_ was leading the fleet out to the Atlantic, with two reefs in -her mainsail, and although she towed a large punt, and was by no means -a fast boat, she had no difficulty in maintaining her place, the fact -being that the half-dozen boats that lumbered after her were mainly -fishing craft hailing from the village of Cairndhu, and, as all the -world knows, these are not built for speed but endurance. They are -half-decked and each carries a lug sail. One of the legends of the coast -is that when a lug sail is new its colour is brown, and as a new sail is -never seen at Cairndhu there are no means of finding out if the story -is true or false. The sails, as they exist, are kaleidoscopic in their -patchwork. It is understood that anything will serve as a patch for a -lug sail. Sometimes the centre-piece of an old coat has been used for -this purpose; but if so, it is only fair to state that it is on record -that the centre-piece of an old sail has been shaped into a jacket for -the ordinary wearing of a lad. - -The lug sail may yet find its way into a drawing room in Belgravia -and repose side by side with the workhouse sheeting which occupies an -honoured place in that apartment. - -On through the even waves that roll from between the headlands at the -entrance, to the little strand of pebbles at the end of the lough, the -boats lumbered. The sea and sky were equally gray, but now and again a -sudden gleam of sunshine would come from some unsuspected rift in the -motionless clouds, and fly along the crests of the waves, revealing a -green transparency for an instant, and then, flashing upon the sails, -make apparent every patch in their expanse, just as a flash of lightning -on a dark night reveals for a second every feature of a broad landscape. - -As the first vessel of the little fleet, pursuing an almost direct -course in spite of the curving of the shores of the Irish fjord, -approached one coast and then the other, the great rocks that appeared -snow-white, with only a dab of black here and there, became suddenly -all dark, and the air was filled with what seemed like snow flakes. The -cries of the innumerable sea birds, that whirled about the disturbing -boat before they settled and the rocks became gradually white once more, -had a remarkable effect when heard against that monotonous background, -so to speak, of rolling waves. - -The narrow lough was a gigantic organ pipe through which the mighty bass -of the Atlantic roared everlastingly. - -But when the headlands at the entrance were reached, the company who -sat on the weather side of the cutter _Acushla_ became aware of a -commingling of sounds. The organ voice of the lough only filled up the -intervals between the tremendous roar of the lion-throated waves that -sprang with an appalling force half way up the black faces of the sheer -cliffs, and broke in mid-air. All day long and all night long those -inexhaustible billows come rushing upon that coast; and watching them -and listening to them one feels how mean are contemporary politics as -well as other things. - -"That's the Irish question," remarked Lord Innisfail, who was steering -his own cutter. - -He nodded in the direction of the waves that were clambering up the -headlands. What he meant exactly he might have had difficulty in -explaining. - -"Very true, very true," said Mr. Durdan, sagaciously, hoping to provoke -Mr. Airey to reply, and thinking it likely that he would learn from Mr. -Airey's reply what was Lord Innisfail's meaning. - -But Mr. Airey, who had long ago become acquainted with Mr. Durdan's -political methods, did not feel it incumbent on him to make the attempt -to grapple with the question--if it was a question--suggested by Lord -Innisfail. - -The metaphor of a host should not, he knew, be considered too curiously. -Like the wit of a police-court magistrate, it should be accepted with -effusion. - -"Stand by that foresheet," said Lord Innisfail to one of the yacht's -hands. "We'll heave to until the other craft come up." - -In a few moments the cutter had all way off her, and was simply tumbling -about among the waves in a way that made some of the ship's company hold -their breath and think longingly of pale brandy. - -The cruise of the _Acushla_ and the appearance of the fleet of boats -upon the lough were due to the untiring energy of Lady Innisfail and -to the fact that at last Brian, the boatman, had, by the help of Father -Conn, come to grasp something of the force of the phrase "local colour". - -Lady Innisfail was anxious that her guests should carry away certain -definite impressions of their sojourn at the Connaught castle beyond -those that may be acquired at any country-house, which everyone knows -may be comprised in a very few words. A big shoot, and an incipient -scandal usually constitute the record of a country-house entertainment. -Now, it was not that Lady Innisfail objected to a big shoot or an -incipient scandal--she admitted that both were excellent in their own -way--but she hoped to do a great deal better for her guests. She hoped -to impart to their visit some local colour. - -She had hung on to the wake and the eviction, as has already been told, -with pertinacity. The _fte_ which she believed was known to the Irish -peasantry as the Cruiskeen, had certainly some distinctive features; -though just as she fancied that the Banshee was within her grasp, it had -vanished into something substantial--this was the way she described -the scene on the cliffs. Although her guests said they were very well -satisfied with what they had seen and heard, adding that they had come -to the conclusion that if the Irish had only a touch of humour they -would be true to the pictures that had been drawn of them, still Lady -Innisfail was not satisfied. - -Of course if Mr. Airey were to ask Miss Avon to marry him, her -house-party would be talked about during the winter. But she knew that -it is the marriages which do not come off that are talked about most; -and, after all, there is no local colour in marrying or giving in -marriage, and she yearned for local colour. Brian, after a time, came -to understand something of her ladyship's yearnings. Like the priest and -the other inhabitants, he did not at first know what she wanted. - -It is difficult to impress upon Fuzzy-wuzzy that he would be regarded -as a person of distinction in the Strand and as an idol in Belgravia. -At his home in the Soudan he is a very commonplace sort of person. So -in the region of Lough Suangorm, but a casual interest attaches to the -caubeen, which in Piccadilly would be followed by admiring crowds, and -would possibly be dealt with in Evening Editions. - -But, as has just been said, Brian and his friends in due time came to -perceive the spectacular value to her ladyship's guests of the most -commonplace things of the country; and it was this fact that induced -Brian to tell three stories of a very high colour to Mr. Airey and Mr. -Wynne. - -It was also his appreciation of her ladyship's wants that caused him to -suggest to her the possibility of a seal-hunt constituting an element of -attraction--these were not the exact words employed by the boatman--to -some of her ladyship's guests. - -It is scarcely necessary to say that Lady Innisfail was delighted -with the suggestion. Some of her guests pretended that they also were -delighted with it, though all that the majority wanted was to be -let alone. Still, upon the afternoon appointed for the seal-hunt a -considerable number of the Castle party went aboard the yacht. Beatrice -was one of the few girls who were of the party. Helen would have dearly -liked to go also; she would certainly have gone if she had not upon -one--only one--previous occasion allowed herself to be persuaded to sail -out to the headlands. She was wise enough not to imperil her prospects -for the sake of being drenched with sea water. - -She wondered--she did not exactly hope it--if it was possible for -Beatrice Avon to become seasick. - -This was how upon that gray afternoon, the fleet of boats sailed out to -where the yacht was thumping about among the tremendous waves beyond the -headlands that guard the entrance to Lough Suangorm. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV.--ON THE CHANCE. - -WHEN the fishing boats came within half a cable's length of the cutter, -Lord Innisfail gave up the tiller to Brian, who was well qualified to be -the organizer of the expedition, having the reputation of being familiar -with the haunts and habits of the seals that may be found--by such as -know as much about them as Brian--among the great caves that pierce for -several miles the steep cliffs of the coast. - -The responsibility of steering a boat under the headlands, either North -or South, was not sought by Lord Innisfail. For perhaps three hundred -and fifty days in every year it would be impossible to approach the -cliffs in any craft; but as Brian took the tiller he gave a knowing -glance around the coast and assured his lordship that it was a jewel of -a day for a seal-hunt, and added that it was well that he had brought -only the largest of the fishing boats, for anything smaller would sink -with the weight of the catch of seals. - -He took in the slack of the main sheet and sent the cutter flying direct -to the Northern headland, the luggers following in her wake, though -scarcely preserving stations or distances with that rigorous naval -precision which occasionally sends an ironclad to the bottom. - -The man-of-war may run upon a reef, and the country may be called on -to pay half a million for the damage; but it can never be said that she -fails to maintain her station prescribed by the etiquette of the Royal -Navy in following the flagship, which shows that the British sailor, -wearing epaulettes, is as true as the steel that his ship is made of, -and a good deal truer than that of some of the guns which he is asked to -fire. - -In a short time the boats had cleared the headland, and it seemed to -some of the cutter's company as if they were given an opportunity of -looking along the whole west coast of Ireland in a moment. Northward -and southward, like a study in perspective, the lines of indented cliffs -stretched until they dwindled away into the gray sky. The foam line that -was curved as it curled around the enormous rocks close at hand, was -straightened out in the distance and never quite disappeared. - -"Talk of the Great Wall of China," said Lord Innisfail, pointing proudly -to the splendid chain of cliffs. "Talk of the Great Wall of China -indeed! What is it compared with that?" - -He spoke as proudly as if he owned everything within that line of -cliffs, though he thanked heaven every night that he only owned a few -thousand acres in Ireland. - -"What indeed--what indeed?" said Mr. Durdan. - -One of the men thought the moment opportune for airing a theory that -he had to the effect that the Great Wall of China was not built by the -Chinese to keep the surrounding nations out, but by the surrounding -nations to keep the Chinese in. - -It was a feasible theory, suggesting that the Chinese immigration -question existed among the Thibetans some thousands of years ago, to -quite as great an extent as it does in some other directions to-day. -But it requires to be a very strong theory to stand the strain of the -Atlantic waves and a practically unlimited view of the coast of Ireland. -So no discussion arose. - -Already upon some of the flat rocks at the entrance to the great caves -the black head of a seal might be seen. It did not remain long in -view, however. Brian had scarcely pointed it out with a whisper to such -persons as were near him, when it disappeared. - -"It's the wary boys they are, to be sure!" he remarked confidentially. - -His boldness in steering among the rocks made some persons more than -usually thoughtful. Fortunately the majority of those aboard the cutter -knew nothing of his display of skill. They remained quite unaware of the -jagged rocks that the boat just cleared; and when he brought the craft -to the lee of a cliff, which formed a natural breakwater and a harbour -of ripples, none of these people seemed surprised. - -Lord Innisfail and a few yachtsmen who knew something of sailing, drew -long breaths. They knew what they had escaped. - -One of the hands got into the punt and took a line to the cliff to moor -the yacht when the sails had been lowered, and by the time that -the mooring was effected, the other boats had come into the natural -harbour--it would have given protection--that is, natural protection, -to a couple of ironclads--no power can protect them from their own -commanders. - -"Now, my lard," said Brian, who seemed at last to realize his -responsibilities, "all we've got to do is to grab the craythurs; but -that same's a caution. We'll be at least an hour-and-a-half in the -caves, and as it will be cold work, and maybe wet work, maybe some of -their honours wouldn't mind standing by the cutter." - -The suggestion was heartily approved of by some of the yacht's company. -Lady Innisfail said she was perfectly satisfied with such local colour -as was available without leaving the yacht, and it was understood that -Miss Avon would remain by her side. Mr. Airey said he thought he could -face with cheerfulness a scheme of existence that did not include -sitting with varying degrees of uneasiness in a small boat while other -men speared an inoffensive seal. - -"Such explanations are not for the Atlantic Ocean," said Harold, -getting over the side of the yacht into the punt that Brian had hauled -close--Lord Innisfail was already in the bow. - -In a short time, by the skilful admiralship of Brian, the other boats, -which were brought up from the luggers, were manned, and their stations -were assigned to them, one being sent to explore a cave a short distance -off, while another was to remain at the entrance to pick up any seals -that might escape. The same plan was adopted in regard to the great -cave, the entrance to which was close to where the yacht was moored. -Brian arranged that his boat should enter the cave, while another, fully -manned, should stand by the rocks to capture the refugees. - -All the boats then started for their stations--all except the punt with -Brian at the yoke lines, Harold and Mr. Durdan in the stern sheets, one -of the hands at the paddles, and Lord Innisfail in the bows; for -when this craft was about to push off, Brian gave an exclamation of -discontent. - -"What's the matter now?" asked Lord Innisfail. - -"Plenty's the matter, my lard," said Brian. "The sorra a bit of luck -we'll have this day if we leave the ladies behind us." - -"Then we must put up with bad luck," said Lord Innisfail. "Go down on -your knees to her ladyship and ask her to come with us if you think that -will do any good." - -"Oh, her ladyship would come without prayers if she meant to," said -Brian. "But it's Miss Avon that's open to entreaty. For the love of -heaven and the encouragement of sport, step into the boat, Sheila, and -you'll have something to talk about for the rest of your life." - -Beatrice shook her head at the appeal, but that wouldn't do for Brian. -"Look, my lady, look at her eyes, aren't they just jumping out of her -head like young trout in a stream in May?" he cried to Lady Innisfail. -"Isn't she waiting for you to say the word to let her come, an' not a -word does any gentleman in the boat speak on her behalf." - -The gentlemen remained dumb, but Lady Innisfail declared that if Miss -Avon was not afraid of a wetting and cared to go in the boat, there was -no reason why she should not do so. - -In another moment Beatrice had stepped into the punt and it had pushed -off with a cheer from Brian. The men in the other boats, now in the -distance, hearing the cheer, but without knowing why it arose, sent back -an answer that aroused the thousand echoes of the cliffs and the ten -thousand sea birds that arose in a cloud from every crevice of the -rocks. Thus it was that the approach of the boat to the great cave did -not take place in silence. - -Harold had not uttered a word. He had not even looked at Edmund Airey's -face to see what expression it wore when Beatrice stepped into the boat. - -"Did you ever hear anything like Airey's roundabout phrase about a -scheme of existence?" said Mr. Durdan. - -"It is his way of putting a simple matter," said Harold. "You heard of -the man who, in order to soften down the fact that a girl had what are -colloquially known as beetle-crushers, wrote that her feet tended to -increase the mortality among coleoptera?" - -"I'm afraid that the days of the present government are numbered," said -Mr. Durdan, who seemed to think that the remark was in logical sequence -with Harold's story. - -Beatrice looked wonderingly at the speaker; it was some moments before -she found an echo in the expression on Harold's face to what she felt. - -The man who could think of such things as the breaking up of a -government, when floating in thirty fathoms of green sea, beneath the -shadow of such cliffs as the boat was approaching, was a mystery to -the girl, though she was the daughter of one of the nineteenth century -historians, to whom nothing is a mystery. - -The boat entered the great cave without a word being spoken by any one -aboard, and in a few minutes it was being poled along in semi-darkness. -The lapping of the swell from the entrance against the sides of the -cave sounded on through the distance of the interior, and from those -mysterious depths came strange sounds of splashing water, of dropping -stalactites, and now and again a mighty sob of waves choked within a -narrow vent. - -Silently the boat was forced onward, and soon all light from the -entrance was obscured. Through total darkness the little craft crept for -nearly half a mile. - -Suddenly a blaze of light shot up with startling effect in the bows of -the boat. It only came from a candle that Brian had lit: but its -gleam was reflected in millions of stalactites into what seemed an -interminable distance--millions of stalactites on the roof and the -walls, and millions of ripples beneath gave back the gleam, until the -boat appeared to be the centre of a vast illumination. - -The dark shadows of the men who were using the oars as poles, danced -about the brilliant roof and floor of the cave, adding to the fantastic -charm of the scene. - -"Now," said Brian, in a whisper, "these craythurs don't understand -anything that's said to them unless by a human being, so we'll need -to be silent enough. We'll be at the first ledge soon, and there maybe -you'll wait with the lady, Mr. Wynne--you're heavier than Mr. Durdan, -and every inch of water that the boat draws is worth thinking about. -I'll leave a candle with you, but not a word must you speak." - -"All right," said Harold. "You're the manager of the expedition; we must -obey you; but I don't exactly see where my share in the sport comes in." - -"I'd explain it all if I could trust myself to speak," said Brian. -"The craythurs has ears." The ledge referred to by him was reached in -silence. It was perhaps six inches above the water, and in an emergency -it might have afforded standing room for three persons. So much Harold -saw by the light of the candle that the boatman placed in a niche of -rock four feet above the water. - -At a sign from Brian, Harold got upon the ledge and helped Beatrice out -of the boat. - -The light of the candle that was in the bow of the boat gleamed upon the -figure of a man naked from the waist up, and wearing a hard round hat -with a candle fastened to the brim. - -Harold knew that this was the costume of the seal-hunter of the Western -caves, for he had had a talk with Brian on the subject, and had learned -that only by swimming with a lighted candle on his forehead for a -quarter of a mile, the hunter could reach the sealing ground at the -termination of the cave. - -Without a word being spoken, the boat went on, and its light soon -glimmered mysteriously in the distance. - -Harold and Beatrice stood side by side on the narrow ledge of rock and -watched the dwindling of the light. The candle that was on the niche of -rock almost beside them seemed dwindling also. It had become the merest -spark. Harold saw that Brian had inadvertently placed it so that the -dripping of the water from the roof sent flecks of damp upon the wick. - -He stretched out his hand to shift it to another place, but before -he could touch it, a large stalactite dropped upon it, and not only -extinguished it, but sent it into the water with a splash. - -The little cry that came from the girl as the blackness of darkness -closed upon them, sounded to his ears as a reproach. - -"I had not touched it," said he. "Something dropped from the roof upon -it. You don't mind the darkness?" - -"Oh, no--no," said she, doubtfully. "But we were commanded to be dumb." - -"That command was given on the assumption that the candle would continue -burning--now the conditions are changed," said he, with a sophistry that -would have done credit to a cabinet minister. - -"Oh," said she. - -There was a considerable pause before she asked him how long he thought -it would be before the boat would return. - -He declined to bind himself to any expression of opinion on the subject. - -Then there was another pause, filled up only by the splash of something -falling from the roof--by the wash of the water against the smooth rock. - -"I wonder how it has come about that I am given a chance of speaking to -you at last?" said he. - -"At last?" said she, repeating his words in the same tone of inquiry. - -"I say at last, because I have been waiting for such an opportunity for -some time, but it did not come. I don't suppose I was clever enough to -make my opportunity, but now it has come, thank God." - -Again there was silence. He seemed to think that he had said something -requiring a reply from her, but she did not speak. - -"I wonder if you would believe me when I say that I love you," he -remarked. - -"Yes," she replied, as naturally as though he had asked her what she -thought of the weather. "Yes, I think I would believe you. If you did -not love me--if I was not sure that you loved me, I should be the most -miserable girl in all the world." - -"Great God!" he cried. "You do not mean to say that you love me, -Beatrice?" - -"If you could only see my face now, you would know it," said she. "My -eyes would tell you all--no, not all--that is in my heart." - -He caught her hands, after first grasping a few handfuls of clammy rock, -for the hands of the truest lovers do not meet mechanically. - -"I see them," he whispered--"I see your eyes through the darkness. My -love, my love!" - -He did not kiss her. His soul revolted from the idea of the commonplace -kiss in the friendly secrecy of the darkness. - -There are opportunities and opportunities. He believed that if he had -kissed her then she would never have forgiven him, and he was right. -"What a fool I was!" he cried. "Two nights ago, when I overheard a man -tell you, as I had told you long ago--so long ago--more than a week -ago--that he did not want you to pass out of his sight--when I heard you -make the same promise to him as you had made to me, I felt as if there -was nothing left for me in the world. I went out into the darkness, and -as I stood at the place when I first saw you, I thought that I should be -doing well if I were to throw myself headlong down those rocks into the -sea that the rain was beating upon. Beatrice, God only knows if it would -be better or worse for you if I had thrown myself down--if I were to -leave you standing alone here now." - -"Do not say those words--they are like the words I asked you before -not to say. Even then your words meant everything to me. They mean -everything to me still." - -He gave a little laugh. Triumph rang through it. He did not seem to -think that his laughter might sound incongruous to her. - -"This is my hour," he said. "Whatever fate may have in store for me it -cannot make me unlive this hour. And to think that I had got no idea -that such an hour should ever come to me--that you should ever come to -me, my beloved! But you came to me. You came to me when I had tried to -bring myself to feel that there was something worth living for in the -world apart from love." - -"And now?" - -"And now--and now--now I know that there is nothing but love that is -worth living for. What is your thought, Beatrice--tell me all that is in -your heart?" - -"All--all?" She now gave the same little laugh that he had given. She -felt that her turn had come. - -She gave just the same laugh when his feeling of triumph had given -place to a very different feeling--when he had told her that he was a -pauper--that he had no position in the world--that he was dependent upon -his father for every penny that he had to spend, with the exception of -a few hundred pounds a year, which he inherited from his mother--that it -was an act of baseness on his part to tell her that he loved her. - -He had plenty of time for telling her all this, and for explaining his -position thoroughly, for nearly an hour had passed before a gleam of -light and a hail from the furthest recesses of the cave, made them aware -of the fact that other interests than theirs existed in the world. - -And yet when he had told her all that he had to tell to his -disadvantage, she gave that little laugh of triumph. He would have given -a good deal to be able to see the expression which he knew was in those -wonderful eyes of hers, as that laugh came from her. - -Not being able to do so, however, he could only crush her hands against -his lips and reply to the boat's hail. - -Brian, on hearing of the mishap to the candle, delivered a torrent of -execration against himself. It took Harold some minutes to bring -himself up to the point of Lord Innisfail's enthusiasm on the subject of -seal-fishing. Five excellent specimens were in the bottom of the boat, -and the men who had swum after them were there also. A strong odour of -whiskey was about them; and the general idea that prevailed was that -they would not suffer from a chill, though they had been in the water -for three quarters of an hour. - -As the other boats only succeeded in capturing three seals among them -all, Brian had statistics to bear out his contention that the presence -of Beatrice had brought luck to his boat. - -He pocketed two sovereigns which Harold handed him when the boats -returned to the mooring-place, and he was more profuse than ever in his -abuse of his own stupidity in placing the candle so as to be affected by -the damp from the roof. - -His eyes twinkled all the time in a way that made Harold's cheeks red. - -The judge found Miss Avon somewhat _distraite_ after dinner that -night. He became pensive in consequence. He wondered if she thought him -elderly. - -He did not mind in the least growing old, but the idea of being thought -elderly was abhorrent to him. - -The next day Beatrice and her father returned to their cottage at the -other side of the lough. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV.--ON THE SOCIAL VALUE OF THE REPROBATE. - - -SOMETHING remarkable had occurred. Lord Fotheringay had been for a -fortnight under one roof without disgracing himself. - -The charitable people said he was reforming. - -The others said he was aging rapidly. - -The fact remained the same, however: he had been a fortnight at the -Castle and he had not yet disgraced himself. - -Mrs. Burgoyne congratulated Lady Innisfail upon this remarkable -occurrence, and Lady Innisfail began to hope that it might get talked -about. If her autumn party at Castle Innisfail were to be talked about -in connection with the reform of Lord Fotheringay, much more interest -would be attached to the party and the Castle than would be the result -of the publication of the statistics of a gigantic shoot. Gigantic -shoots did undoubtedly take place on the Innisfail Irish property, but -they invariably took place before the arrival of Lord Innisfail and his -guests, and the statistics were, for obvious reasons, not published. -They only leaked out now and again. - -The most commonplace people might enjoy the reputation attaching to the -careful preservation and the indiscriminate slaughter of game; but Lady -Innisfail knew that the distinction accruing from a connection with -a social scandal of a really high order, or with a great social -reform--either as regards a hardened reprobate or an afternoon -toilet--was something much greater. - -Of course, she understood perfectly well that in England the Divorce -Court is the natural and legitimate medium for attaining distinction in -the form of a Special Edition and a pen and ink portrait; but she had -seen great things accomplished by the rumour of an unfair game of cards, -as well as by a very daring skirt dance. - -Next to a high-class scandal, the discovery of a new religion was -a means of reaching eminence, she knew. With the exact social value -attaching to the Reform of a Hardened Reprobate, she was as yet -unacquainted, the fact being that she had never had any experience of -such an incident--it was certainly very rare in the society in which she -moved, so that it is not surprising that she was not prepared to say at -a moment how much it would count in the estimation of the world. - -But if the Reform of a Reprobate--especially a reprobate with a -title--was so rare as to be uncatalogued, so to speak, surely it should -be of exceptional value as a social incident. Should it not partake of -the prestige which attaches to a rare occurrence? - -This was the way that Mrs. Burgoyne put the matter to her friend and -hostess, and her friend and hostess was clever enough to appreciate -the force of her phrases. She began to perceive that although Lord -Fotheringay had come to the Castle on the slenderest of invitations, -and simply because it suited his purpose--although she had been greatly -annoyed at his sudden appearance at the Castle, still good might come of -it. - -She did not venture to estimate from the standpoint of the moralist, the -advantages accruing to the Reformed Reprobate himself from the incident -of his reform, she merely looked at the matter from the standpoint of -the woman of society--which is something quite different--desirous of -attaining a certain social distinction. - -Thus it was that Lady Innisfail took to herself the credit of the -Reform of the Reprobate, and petted the reprobate accordingly, giving no -attention whatever to the affairs of his son. These affairs, interesting -though they had been to her some time before, now became insignificant -compared with the Great Reform. - -She even went the length of submitting to be confided in by Lord -Fotheringay; and she heard, with genuine interest, from his own lips -that he considered the world in general to be hollow. He had found it -so. He had sounded the depths of its hollowness. He had found that in -all grades of society there was much evil. The working classes--he -had studied the question of the working man not as a parliamentary -candidate, consequently honestly--drank too much beer. They sought -happiness through the agency of beer; but all the beer produced by -all the brewers in the House of Lords would not bring happiness to the -working classes. As for the higher grades of society--the people who -were guilty of partaking of unearned increment--well, they were wrong -too. He thought it unnecessary to give the particulars of the avenues -through which they sought happiness. But they were all wrong. The -domestic life--there, and there only, might one find the elements -of true happiness. He knew this because he had endeavoured to reach -happiness by every other avenue and had failed in his endeavours. He -now meant to supply his omission, and he regretted that it had never -occurred to him to do so before. Yes, some poet or other had written -something or other on the subject of the great charm of a life of -domesticity, and Lord Fotheringay assured Lady Innisfail in confidence -that that poet was right. - -Lady Innisfail sighed and said that the Home--the English Home--with its -simple pleasures and innocent mirth, was where the Heart--the English -Heart--was born. What happiness was within the reach of all if they -would only be content with the Home! Society might be all very well in -its way. There were duties to be discharged--every rank in life carried -its duties with it; but how sweet it was, after one had discharged one's -social obligations, to find a solace in the retirement of Home. - -Lord Fotheringay lifted up his hands and said "Ah--ah," in different -cadences. - -Lady Innisfail folded her hands and shook her head with some degree of -solemnity. She felt confident that if Lord Fotheringay was in earnest, -her autumn party would be talked about with an enthusiasm surpassing -that which would attach to the comments on any of the big shoots in -Scotland, or in Yorkshire, or in Wales. - -But when Lord Fotheringay had an opportunity of conversing alone with -Mr. Airey, he did not think it necessary to dwell upon the delights -which he had begun to perceive might be found in a life of pure -domesticity. He took the liberty of reminding Mr. Airey of the -conversation they had on the morning after Miss Avon's arrival at the -Castle. - -"Had we a conversation then, Lord Fotheringay?" said Mr. Airey, in a -tone that gave Lord Fotheringay to understand that if any contentious -point was about to be discussed, it would rest with him to prove -everything. - -"Yes, we had a conversation," said Lord Fotheringay. "I was foolish -enough to make a confidant of you." - -"If you did so, you certainly were foolish," said Edmund, quietly. - -"I have been keeping my eyes open and my ears open as well, during the -past ten days," said Lord Fotheringay, with a leer that was meant to be -significant. Edmund Airey, however, only took it to signify that Lord -Fotheringay could easily be put into a very bad temper. He said nothing, -but allowed Lord Fotheringay to continue. "Yes, let me tell you that -when I keep both eyes and ears open not much escapes me. I have seen and -heard a good deal. You are a clever sort of person, friend Airey; but -you don't know the world as I know it." - -"No, no--as you know it--ah, no," remarked Mr. Airey. - -Lord Fotheringay was a trifle put out by the irritating way in which the -words were spoken. Still, the pause he made was not of long duration. - -"You have your game to play, like other people, I suppose," he resumed, -after the little pause. - -"You are at liberty to suppose anything you please, my dear Lord -Fotheringay," said Mr. Airey, with a smile. - -"Come," said Lord Fotheringay, adopting quite another tone. "Come, -Airey, speaking as man to man, wasn't it a confoundedly shabby trick for -you to play upon me--getting me to tell you that I meant to marry that -young thing--to save her from unhappiness, Airey?" - -"Well?" said Airey. - -"Well?" said Lord Fotheringay. - -"You didn't complete your sentence. Was the shabby trick accepting your -confidence?" - -"The shabby trick was trying to win the affection of the young woman -after I had declared to you my intention." - -"That was the shabby trick, was it?" - -"I have no hesitation in saying that it was." - -"Very well. I hope that you have nothing more to confide in me beside -this--your confidences have so far been singularly uninteresting." - -Lord Fotheringay got really angry. - -"Let me tell you--" he began, but he was stopped by Airey. - -"No, I decline to let you tell me anything," said he. "You accused -me just now of being so foolish as to listen to your confidences. I, -perhaps, deserved the reproach. But I should be a fool if I were to give -you another chance of levelling the same accusation against me. You will -have to force your confidences on someone else in future, unless such as -concern your liver. You confided in me that your liver wasn't quite the -thing. How is it to-day?" - -"I understand your tactics," said Lord Fotheringay, with a snap. "And -I'll take good care to make others acquainted with them also," he added. -"Oh, no, Mr. Airey; I wasn't born yesterday." - -"To that fact every Peerage in the kingdom bears testimony," said Mr. -Airey. - -Lord Fotheringay had neglected his cigar. It had gone out. He now took -three or four violent puffs at it; he snapped it from between his teeth, -looked at the end, and then dropped it on the ground and stamped on it. - -"It was your own fault," said Airey. "Try one of mine, and don't bother -yourself with other matters." - -"I'll bother myself with what I please," said Lord Fotheringay with a -snarl. - -But he took Mr. Airey's cigar, and smoked it to the end. He knew that -Mr. Airey smoked Carolinas. - -This little scene took place outside the Castle before lunch on the -second day after the departure of Mr. Avon and his daughter; and, after -lunch, Lord Fotheringay put on a yachting jacket and cap, and announced -his intention of having a stroll along the cliffs. His doctor had long -ago assured him, he said, that he did not take sufficient exercise nor -did he breathe enough fresh air. He meant in future to put himself on a -strict regimen in this respect, and would begin at once. - -He was allowed to carry out his intention alone--indeed he did not -hint that his medical adviser had suggested company as essential to the -success of any scheme of open air exercise. - -The day was a breezy one, and the full force of the wind was felt at the -summit of the cliff coast; but like many other gentlemen who dread being -thought elderly, he was glad to seize every opportunity of showing that -he was as athletic as the best of the young fellows; so he strode along, -gasping and blowing with quite as much fresh air in his face as the most -exacting physician could possibly have prescribed for a single dose. - -He made his way to the mooring-place of the boats, and he found Brian in -the boat-house engaged in making everything snug. - -He was very civil to Brian, and after a transfer of coin, inquired about -the weather. - -There was a bit of a draught of wind in the lough, Brian said, but it -was a fine day for a sail. Would his lardship have a mind for a bit of -a sail? The _Acushla_ was cruising, but the _Mavourneen_, a neat little -craft that sailed like a swallow, was at his lardship's service. - -After some little consideration, Lord Fotheringay said that though -he had no idea of sailing when he left the Castle, yet he never could -resist the temptation of a fine breeze--it was nothing stronger than a -breeze that was blowing, was it? - -"A draught--just a bit of a draught," said the man. - -"In that case," said Lord Fotheringay, "I think I may venture. In fact, -now that I come to think of it, I should like to visit the opposite -shore. There is a Castle or something, is there not, on the opposite -shore?" - -"Is it a Castle?" said Brian. "Oh, there's a power of Castles scattered -along the other shore, my lard. It's thrippin' over them your lardship -will be after doin.'" - -"Then we'll not lose a moment in starting," said Lord Fotheringay. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI.--ON FRANKNESS AND FRIENDSHIP. - -BRIAN took care that no moment was lost. In the course of a very few -minutes Lord Fotheringay was seated on the windward thwarts of the boat, -his hands grasping the gunwale to right and left, and his head bowed -to mitigate in some measure the force of the shower of sea-water that -flashed over the boat as her hows neatly clipped the crest off every -wave. - -Lord Fotheringay held on grimly. He hated the sea and all connected with -it; though he hated the House of Lords to almost as great an extent, yet -he had offered the promoter of the Channel Tunnel to attend in the House -and lend the moral weight of his name to the support of the scheme. It -was only the breadth and spontaneousness of Brian's assurance that the -breeze was no more than a draught, that had induced him to carry out his -cherished idea of crossing the lough. - -"Didn't I tell your lardship that the boat could sail with the best of -them?" said the man, as he hauled in the sheet a trifle, and brought -the boat closer to the wind--a manouvre that did not tend to lessen the -cascade that deluged his passenger. - -Lord Fotheringay said not a word. He kept his head bowed to every flap -of the waves beneath the bows. His attitude would have commended itself -to any painter anxious to produce a type of Submission to the Will of -Heaven. - -He was aging quickly--so much Brian perceived, and dwelt upon--with -excellent effect--in his subsequent narrative of the voyage to some -of the servants at the Castle. The cosmetic that will withstand the -constant application of sea-water has yet to be invented, so that in -half an hour Lord Fotheringay would not have been recognized except by -his valet. Brian had taken aboard a well-preserved gentleman with a rosy -complexion and a moustache almost too black for nature. The person who -disembarked at the opposite side of the lough was a stooped old man with -lank streaky cheeks and a wisp of gray hair on each side of his upper -lip. - -"And it's a fine sailor your lardship is entirely," remarked the -boatman, as he lent his tottering, dazed passenger a helping hand up the -beach of pebbles. "And it's raal enjoyment your lardship will be after -having among the Castles of the ould quality, after your lardship's -sail." - -Not a word did Lord Fotheringay utter. He felt utterly broken down in -spirit, and it was not until he had got behind a rock and had taken out -a pocket-comb and a pocket-glass, and had by these auxiliaries, and the -application of a grain or two of roseate powder without which he never -ventured a mile from his base of supplies, repaired some of the ravages -of his voyage, that he ventured to make his way to the picturesque white -cottage, which Miss Avon had once pointed out to him as the temporary -residence of her father and herself. - -It was a five-roomed cottage that had been built and furnished by an -enthusiastic English fisherman for his accommodation during his annual -residence in Ireland. One, more glance did Lord Fotheringay give to his -pocket-mirror before knocking at the door. - -He would have had time to renew his youth, had he had his pigments -handy, before the door was opened by an old woman with a shawl over -her shoulders and a cap, that had possibly once been white, on her -straggling hairs. - -She made the stage courtesy of an old woman in front of Lord -Fotheringay, and explained that she was a little hard of hearing--she -was even obliging enough to give a circumstantial account of the -accident that was responsible for her infirmity. - -"Miss Avon?" said the old woman, when Lord Fotheringay had repeated -his original request in a louder tone. "Miss Avon? no, she's not here -now--not even her father, who was a jewel of a gentleman, though a bit -queer. God bless them both now that they have gone back to England, -maybe never to return." - -"Back to England. When?" shouted Lord Fotheringay. - -"Why, since early in the morning. The Blessed Virgin keep the young -lady from harm, for she's swater than honey, and the Saints preserve her -father, for he was--" - -Lord Fotheringay did not wait to hear the position of the historian -defined by the old woman. He turned away from the door with such words -as caused her infirmity to be a blessing in disguise. - -When Brian greeted his return with a few well-chosen phrases bearing -upon the architecture of the early Celtic nobles, Lord Fotheringay swore -at him; but the boatman, who did a little in that way himself when under -extreme provocation, only smiled as Lord Fotheringay took his seat in -the boat once more, and prepared for the ordeal of his passage. - -There was a good deal in Brian's smile. - -The wind had changed most unaccountably, he explained, so that it would, -he feared, be absolutely necessary to tack out almost to the entrance -of the lough in order to reach the mooring-place. For the next hour -he became the exponent of every system of sailing known to modern -navigators. After something over an hour of this manoeuvring, he had -compassion upon his victim, and ran the boat before the wind--he might -have done so at first if Lord Fotheringay had not shown such a poor -knowledge of men as to swear at him--to the mooring-place. - -"If it's not making too free with your lardship, I'd offer your lardship -a hand up the track," said Brian. "It's myself that has to go up to the -Castle anyway, with a letter to her ladyship from Miss Avon. Didn't -the young lady give it to me in the morning before she started with his -honour her father on the car?" - -"And you knew all this time that Miss Avon and her father had left the -neighbourhood?" said Lord Fotheringay, through his store teeth. - -"Tubbe sure I did," said Brian. "But Miss Avon didn't live in one of the -Castles of the ould quality that your lardship was so particular ready -to explore." - -Lord Fotheringay felt that his knowledge of the world and the dwellers -therein had its limits. - -It was at Lord Fotheringay's bedside that Harold said his farewell to -his father the next day. Lord Fotheringay's incipient rheumatism had -been acutely developed by his drenching of the previous afternoon, and -he thought it prudent to remain in bed. - -"You're going, are you?" snarled the Father. - -"Yes, I'm going," replied the Son. "Lord and Lady Innisfail leave -to-morrow." - -"Have you asked Miss Craven to marry you?" inquired the Father. - -"No," said Harold. - -"Why not--tell me that?" - -"I haven't made up my mind on the subject of marrying." - -"Then the sooner you make it up the better it will be for yourself. I've -been watching you pretty closely for some days--I did not fail to notice -a certain jaunty indifference to what was going on around you on the -night of your return from that tomfoolery in the boats--seal-hunting, -I think they called it. I saw the way you looked at Helen Craven that -night. Contempt, or something akin to contempt, was in every glance. Now -you know that she is to be at Ella's in October. You have thus six weeks -to make up your mind to marry her. If you make up your mind to marry -anyone else, you may make up your mind to live upon the three hundred a -year that your mother left you. Not a penny you will get from me. I've -stinted myself hitherto to secure you your allowance. By heavens, I'll -not do so any longer. You will only receive your allowance from me for -another year, and then only by signing a declaration at my lawyer's to -the effect that you are not married. I've heard of secret marriages -before now, but you needn't think of that little game. That's all I've -to say to you." - -"And it is enough," said Harold. "Good-bye." He left the room and then -he left the Castle, Lady Innisfail only shaking her head and whispering, -"You have disappointed me," as he made his adieux. - -The next day all the guests had departed--all, with the exception of -Lord Fotheringay, who was still too ill to move. In the course of some -days, however, the doctor thought that he might without risk--except, of -course, such as was incidental to the conveyance itself--face a drive on -an outside car, to the nearest railway-station. - -Before leaving him, as she was compelled to do owing to her own -engagements, Lady Innisfail had another interesting conversation--it -almost amounted to a consultation--with her friend Mrs. Burgoyne on the -subject of the Reform of the Hardened Reprobate. And the result of -their further consideration of the subject from every standpoint, was -to induce them to believe that, with such a powerful incentive to the -Higher Life as an acute rheumatic attack, Lord Fotheringay's reform -might safely be counted on. It might, at any rate, be freely discussed -during the winter. If, subsequently, he should become a backslider, it -would not matter. His reform would have gone the way of all topics. - -Helen Craven and Edmund Airey had also a consultation together on the -subject upon which they had previously talked more than once. - -Each of them showed such an anxiety to give prominence to the -circumstance that they were actuated solely for Harold's benefit in -putting into practice the plan which one of them had suggested, it was -pretty clear that they had an uneasy feeling that they required some -justification for the course which they had thought well to pursue. - -Yes, they agreed that Harold should be placed beyond the power of his -father. Mr. Airey said he had never met a more contemptible person than -Lord Fotheringay, and for the sake of making Harold independent of such -a father, he would, he declared, do again all that he had done during -the week of Miss Avon's sojourn at the Castle. - -It was, indeed, sad, Miss Craven felt, that Harold should have such a -father. - -"Perhaps it was because I felt this so strongly that I--I--well, I began -to ask myself if there might not be some way of escape for him," said -she, in a pensive tone that was quite different from the tone of the -frank communication that she had made to Mr. Airey some time before. - -"I can quite understand that," said Edmund. "Well, though Harold hasn't -shown himself to be wise--that is--" - -"We both know what that means," said she, anticipating his definition of -wisdom so far as Harold was concerned. - -"We do," said Edmund. "If he has not shown himself to be wise in this -way, he has not shown himself to be a fool in another way." - -"I suppose he has not," said she, thoughtfully. - -"Great heavens! you don't mean to think that--" - -"That he has told Beatrice Avon that he loves her? No, I don't fancy -that he has, still--" - -"Still?" - -"Well, I thought that, on their return from that awful seal-hunt, I saw -a change in both of them. It seemed to me that--that--well, I don't -quite know how I should express it. Haven't you seen a thirsty look on a -man's face?" - -"A thirsty look? I believe I have seen it on a woman's face." - -"It may be the same. Well, Harold Wynne's face wore such an expression -for days before the seal-hunt--I can't say that I noticed it on Beatrice -Avon's face at the same time; but so soon as they returned from the -boats on that evening, I noticed the change on Harold's--perhaps it was -only fancy." - -"I am inclined to believe that it was fancy. In my belief none of us was -quite the same after that wild cruise. I was beside Miss Avon all the -time that we were sailing out to the caves, and though she and Harold -were in the boat together, yet Lord Innisfail and Durdan were in the -same boat also. I can't see how they could have had any time for an -understanding while they were engaged in looking after the seals." - -Miss Craven shook her head doubtfully. It was clear that she was a -believer in the making of opportunities in such matters as those which -they were discussing. - -"Anyhow, we have done all that we could reasonably be expected to do," -said she. - -"And perhaps a trifle over," said he. "If it were not that I like Harold -so much--and you, too, my dear"--this seemed an afterthought--"I would -not have done all that I have done. It is quite unlikely that Miss Avon -and I shall be under the same roof again, but if we should be, I shall, -you may be certain, find out from her whether or not an understanding -exists between her and Harold. But what understanding could it be?" - -Miss Craven smiled. Was this the man who had made such a reputation -for cleverness, she asked herself--a man who placed a limit on the -opportunities of lovers, and then inquired what possible understanding -could be come to between a penniless man and a girl with "a gray eye or -so." - -"What understanding?" said she. "Why, he may have unfolded to her a -scheme for becoming Lord High Chancellor after two year's hard work at -the bar, with a garden-party now and again; or for being made a Bishop -in the same time; and their understanding may be to wait for one another -until the arrival of either event. Never mind. We have done our best for -him." - -"For them," said Edmund. - -Yes, he tried to bring himself to believe that all that he had done was -for the benefit of his friend Harold and for his friend Beatrice--to say -nothing of his friend Helen as well. After a time he did almost -force himself to believe that there was nothing that was not strictly -honourable in the endeavour that he had made, at Helen's suggestion, -to induce Beatrice Avon to perceive the possibility of her obtaining a -proposal of marriage from a rich and distinguished man, if she were -only to decline to afford the impecunious son of a dissolute peer an -opportunity of telling her that he loved her. - -Now and again, however, he had an uneasy twinge, as the thought occurred -to him that if some man, understanding the exact circumstances of the -case, were to be as frank with him as Helen Craven had been (once), -that man might perhaps be led to say that he had been making a fool of -Beatrice for the sake of gratifying his own vanity. - -It was just possible, and he knew it, that that frank friend--assuming -that frankness and friendship may exist together--might be disposed -to give prominence in this matter to the impulses of vanity, to the -exclusion of the impulses of friendship, and a desire to set the crooked -straight. - -Even the fortnight which he spent in Norway with one of the heads of -the Government party--a gentleman who would probably have shortly at his -disposal an important Under-Secretaryship--failed quite to abate these -little twinges that he had when he reflected upon the direction that -might be taken by a frank friend, in considering the question of the -responsibility involved in his attitude toward Miss Avon. - -It was just a week after Lord Fotheringay had left Castle Innisfail that -a stranger appeared in the neighbourhood--a strange gentleman with the -darkest hair and the fiercest eyes ever seen, even in that region of -dark hair and eyes. He inquired who were the guests at the Castle, and -when he learned that the last of them--a distinguished peer named Lord -Fotheringay--had gone some time, and that it was extremely unlikely that -the Castle would be open for another ten months, his eyes became -fiercer than ever. He made use of words in a strange tongue, which Brian -declared, if not oaths, would do duty for oaths without anyone being the -wiser. - -The stranger departed as mysteriously as he had come. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII.--ON CIRCUMVENTING A STAG. - -IF Edmund Airey had a good deal to think about in Norway, Harold Wynne -was certainly not without a subject for thought in Scotland. - -It was with a feeling of exultation that he had sat in the bows of the -cutter _Acushla_ on her return to her moorings after that seal-hunt -which everyone agreed had been an extraordinary success. Had this -expression of exultation been noticed by Lady Innisfail, it would, -naturally, have been attributed by her to the fact that he had been -in the boat that had made the largest catch of seals. To be sure, Miss -Craven, who had observed at least a change in the expression upon his -face, did not attribute it to his gratification on having slaughtered -some seals, but then Miss Craven was more acute than an ordinary -observer. - -He felt that he did well to be exultant, as he looked at Beatrice Avon -standing by the side of Lord Innisfail at the tiller. The wind that -filled the mainsail came upon her face and held her garments against her -body, revealing every gracious curve of her shape, and suggesting to his -eyes a fine piece of sculpture with flying drapery. - -And she was his. - -It seemed to him when he had begun to speak to her in the solemn -darkness of the seal-cave, that it was impossible that he could receive -any answer from her that would satisfy him. How was it possible that she -could love him, he had asked himself at some agonizing moments during -the week. He thought that she might possibly have come to love him in -time, if she had not been with him in the boat during that night of -mist, when the voice of Helen Craven had wailed round the cliffs. Her -arrival at the Castle could not but have revealed to her the fact that -she might obtain an offer of marriage from someone who was socially far -above him; and thus he had almost lost all hope of her. - -And yet she was his. - -The course adopted by his friend Edmund Airey had astonished him. He -could not believe that Airey had fallen in love with her. It was not -consistent with Airey's nature to fall in love with anyone, he believed. -But he knew that in the matter of falling in love, people do not always -act consistently with their character; so that, after all, Airey might -be only waiting an opportunity to tell her that he had fallen in love -with her. - -The words that he had overheard Airey speak to her upon the night of the -_tableaux_ in the hall--words that had driven him out into the night of -rain and storm to walk madly along the cliffs, and to wonder if he were -to throw himself into the waves beneath, would he be strong enough to -let himself sink into their depths or weak enough to make a struggle for -life--those words had cleared away whatever doubts he had entertained as -to Edmund's intentions. - -And yet she was his. - -She had answered his question so simply and clearly--with such -earnestness and tenderness as startled him. It seemed that they had -come to love each other, as he had read of lovers doing, from the first -moment that they had met. It seemed that her love had, like his, only -increased through their being kept apart from each other--mainly by -the clever device of Miss Craven and the co-operation of Edmund Airey, -though, of course, Harold did not know this. - -His reflections upon this marvel--the increase of their love, though -they had few opportunities of being together and alone--would have been -instructive even to persons so astute and so ready to undertake the -general control of events as Mr. Airey and Miss Craven. Unfortunately, -however, they were as ignorant of what had taken place to induce these -reflections as he was of the conspiracy between them to keep him apart -from Beatrice to secure his happiness and the happiness of Beatrice. - -The fact that Beatrice loved him and had confessed her love for him, -though they had had so few opportunities of being together, seemed to -him the greatest of all the marvels that he had recently experienced. - -As he gave a farewell glance at the lough and recollected how, a -fortnight before, he had walked along the cliffs and had cast to the -winds all his cherished ideas of love, he could not help feeling that -he had been surrounded with marvels. He had had a narrow escape--he -actually regarded a goodlooking young woman with several thousands of -pounds of an income, as a narrow escape. - -This was the last of the reflections that came to him with the sound of -the green seas choked in the narrows of the lough. - -The necessity of preserving himself from sudden death--the Irish -outside car on which he was driving was the worst specimen he had yet -seen--absorbed all his thoughts when he had passed through the village -of Ballycruiskeen; and by the time he had got out of the train that -carried him to the East Coast--a matter of six hours travelling--and -aboard the steamer that bore him to Glasgow, the exultation that he -had felt on leaving Castle Innisfail, and on reflecting upon the great -happiness that had come to him, was considerably chastened. - -He was due at two houses in Scotland. At the first he meant to do -a little shooting. The place was not inaccessible. After a day's -travelling he found himself at a railway station fifteen miles from his -destination. He eventually reached the place, however, and he had some -shooting, which, though indifferent, was far better than it was possible -to obtain on Lord Innisfail's mountains--at least for Lord Innisfail's -guests to obtain. - -The second place was still further north--it was now and again alluded -to as the North Pole by some visitors who had succeeded in finding -their way to it, in spite of the directions given to them by the various -authorities on the topography of the Highlands. Several theories -existed as to the best way of reaching this place, and Harold, who -knew sufficient Scotch to be able to take in the general meaning of the -inhabitants without the aid of an interpreter, was made aware while -at the shooting lodge, of these theories. Hearing, however, that some -persons had actually been known to find the place, he felt certain -that they had struck out an independent course for themselves. It was -incredible to him that any of them had reached it by following the -directions they had received on the subject. He determined to follow -their example; and he had reached the place--eventually. - -It was when he had been for three days following a stag, that he began -to think of his own matters in a dispassioned way. Crawling on one's -stomach along a mile or two of boggy land and then wriggling through -narrow spaces among the rocks--sitting for five or six hours on -gigantic sponges (damp) of heather, with one's chin on one's knees for -strategical purposes, which the gillies pretend they understand, but -which they keep a dead secret--shivering as the Scotch mist clothes one -as with a wet blanket, then being told suddenly that there is a stag -thirty yards to windward--getting a glimpse of it, missing it, and -then hearing the gillies exchanging remarks in a perfectly intelligible -Gaelic regarding one's capacity--these incidents constitute an -environment that tends to make one look dispassionately upon such -marvels as Harold had been considering in a very different spirit while -the Irish lough was yet within hearing. - -On the third day that he had been trying to circumvent the stag, Harold -felt despondent--not about the stag, for he had long ago ceased to take -any interest in the brute--but about his own future. - -It is to be regretted (sometimes) that an exchange of sentiments on -the subject of love between lovers does not bring with it a change of -circumstances, making possible the realization of a scheme of life in -which those sentiments shall play an active part--or at least as active -a part as sentiments can play. This was Harold's great regret. Since he -had found that he loved Beatrice and that Beatrice loved him, the world -naturally appeared lovelier also. But it was with the loveliness of a -picture that hangs in a public gallery, not as an individual possession. - -His material circumstances, so far from having improved since he had -confessed to Edmund Airey that it was necessary for him to marry a woman -with money, had become worse; and yet he had given no thought to the -young woman with the money, but a great many thoughts to the young woman -who had, practically, none. He felt that no more unsatisfactory state of -matters could be imagined. And yet he felt that it would be impossible -to take any steps with a view of bringing about a change. - -He had received several letters from Beatrice, and he had written -several to her; but though in more than one he had told her in that -plain strain which one adopts when one does not desire to be in any way -convincing, that it was a most unfortunate day for her when she met him, -still he did not suggest that their correspondence should cease. - -What was to be the end of their love? - -It was the constant attempt to answer this question that gave the stag -his chance of life when, on the afternoon of the third day, Harold was -commanded by his masters the gillies to fire into that thickening in the -mist which he was given to understand by an unmistakable pantomime, was -the stag. - -While the gillies were exchanging their remarks in Gaelic, flavouring -them with very smoky whiskey, he was thinking, not of the escape of the -stag, but of what possible end there could be to the love that existed -between Beatrice and himself. - -It was the renewed thinking upon this question that brought about the -death of that particular stag and two others before the next evening, -for he had arrived at a point when he felt that he must shoot either -a stag or himself. He had arrived at a condition of despair that made -pretty severe demands upon him. - -The slaughter of the stags saved him. When he saw their bodies stretched -before him he felt exultant once more. He felt that he had overcome his -fate; and it was the next morning before he realized the fact that he -had done nothing of the sort--that the possibility of his ever being -able to marry Beatrice Avon was as remote as it had been when he had -fired blindly into the mist, and his masters, who had carried the guns, -exhausted (he believed) the resources, of Gaelic sarcasm in comment. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII.--ON ENJOYING A RESPITE. - -IT was the first week in October when Harold Wynne found himself in -London. He had got a letter from Beatrice in which she told him that she -and her father would return to London from Holland that week. Mr. Avon -had conscientiously followed the track of an Irish informer in whom he -was greatly interested, and who had, at the beginning of the century, -found his way to Holland, where he was looked upon as a poor exile from -Erin. He had betrayed about a dozen of his fellow-countrymen to their -enemies, and had then returned to Ireland to live to an honoured old age -on the proceeds of the bargain he had made for their heads. - -The result of Harold's consideration of the position that he occupied in -regard to Beatrice, was this visit to London. He made up his mind that -he should see her and tell her that, like Mrs. Browning's hero, he loved -her so well that he only could leave her. - -He could bring himself to do it, he felt. He believed that he was equal -to an act of heroic self-sacrifice for the sake of the girl--that -was how he put the matter to himself when being soaked on the Scotch -mountain. Yes, he would go to her and tell her that the conclusion -to which he had come was that they must forget one another--that only -unhappiness could result from the relationship that existed between -them. He knew that there is no more unsatisfactory relationship between -a man and a woman than that which has love for a basis, but with no -prospect of marriage; and he knew that so long as his father lived -and continued selfish--and only death could divide him from his -selfishness--marriage with Beatrice was out of the question. - -It was with this resolution upon him that he drove to the address in the -neighbourhood of the British Museum, where Beatrice said she was to be -found with her father. - -It was one of those mansions which at some period in the early part of -the century had been almost splendid; now it was simply large. It -was not the house that Harold would have cared to occupy, even rent -free--and this was a consideration to him. But for a scholar who had a -large library of his own, and who found it necessary to be frequently -in the neighbourhood of the larger Library at the Museum, the house must -undoubtedly have had its advantages. - -She was not at home. The elderly butler said that Mr. Avon had found it -necessary to visit Brussels for a few days, and he had thus been delayed -on the Continent beyond the date he had appointed for his return. -He would probably be in England by the end of the week--the day was -Wednesday. - -Harold left the gloom of Bloomsbury behind him, feeling a curious -satisfaction at having failed to see Beatrice--the satisfaction of a -respite. Some days must elapse before he could make known his resolution -to her. - -He strolled westward to a club of which he was a member--the Bedouin, -and was about to order dinner, when someone came behind him and laid a -hand, by no means gently, on his shoulder. Some of the Bedouins thought -it _de rigueur_ to play such pranks upon each other; and, to do them -justice, it was only rarely that they dislocated a friend's shoulder or -gave a nervous friend a fit. People said one never knew what was -coming from the moment they entered the Bedouin Club, and the prominent -Bedouins accepted this statement as embodying one of the most agreeable -of its many distinctive features. - -Harold was always prepared for the worst in this place, so when -the force of the blow swung him round and he saw an extremely plain -arrangement of features, distorted by a smile of extraordinary breadth, -beneath a closely-cropped crown of bright red hair, he merely said, -"Hallo, Archie, you here? I thought you were in South Africa -lion-hunting or something." - -The smile that had previously distorted the features of the young man, -was of such fulness that it might reasonably have been taken for granted -that it could not be increased; the possessor showed, however, that -that smile was not the result of a supreme effort. So soon as Harold had -spoken he gave a wink, and that wink seemed to release the mechanical -system by which his features were contorted, for in an instant his -face became one mouth. In plain words, this mouth of the young man had -swallowed up his other features. All that could be seen of his face was -that enormous mouth flanked by a pair of enormous ears, like plantain -leaves growing on each side of the crater of a volcano. - -Harold looked at him and laughed, then picked up a _menu_ card and -studied it until he calculated that the young man whom he had addressed -as Archie should have thrown off so much of his smile as would enable -him to speak. - -He gave him plenty of time, and when he looked round he saw that some of -the young man's features had succeeded in struggling to the surface, as -it were, beneath the circular mat of red hair that lay between his ears. - -"No South Africa for me, tarty chip," said Archie. ("Tarty chip" was -the popular term of address that year among young men about town. Its -philological significance was never discovered.) - -"No South Africa for me; I went one better than that," continued the -young man. - -"I doubt it," said Harold. "I've had my eye on you until lately. You -have usually gone one worse. Have you any money left--tell the truth?" - -"Money? I asked the tarty chips that look after that sort of thing for -me how I stood the other day," said Archie, "and I'm ashamed to say that -I've been spending less than my income--that is until a couple of months -ago. I've still about three million. What does that mean?" - -"That you've got rid of about a million inside two years," said Harold. - -"You're going it blind," said Archie. "It only means that I've spent -fifty decimals in eighteen months. I can spare that, tarty chip." (It -may possibly be remembered that in the slang of the year a decimal -signified a thousand pounds.) "That means that you've squandered a -fortune, Archie," said Harold, thinking what fifty thousand pounds would -mean to him. - -"There's not much of a squander in the deal when I got value for it," -said Archie. "I got plenty of value. I've got to know all about this -world." - -"And you'll soon get to know all about the next, if you go on at this -rate," said Harold. - -"Not me; I've got my money in sound places. You heard about my show." - -"Your show? I've heard about nothing for the past year but your shows. -What's the latest? I want something to eat." - -"Oh, come with me to my private trough," cried the young man. "Don't lay -down a mosaic pavement in your inside in this hole. Come along, tarty -chip; I've got a _chef_ named Achille--he knows what suits us--also some -'84 Heidsieck. Come along with me, and I'll tell you all about the show. -We'll go there together later on. We'll take supper with her." - -"Oh! with her?" - -"To be sure. You don't mean to say that you haven't heard that I've -taken the Legitimate Theatre for Mrs. Mowbray? Where on God's footstool -have you been for the past month?" - -"Not further than the extreme North of Scotland. It was far enough. I -saw a paragraph stating that Mrs. Mowbray, after being a failure in a -number of places, had taken the Legitimate. What has that got to say to -you?" - -"Not much, but I've got a good deal to say to it. Oh, come along, and -I'll tell you all about it. I'm building a monument for myself. I've got -the Legitimate and I mean to make Irving and the rest of them sit up." - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX.--ON THE ADVANTAGES OF READY MONEY. - -ARCHIE BROWN was the only son of Mr. John Brown, the eminent -contractor. Mr. John Brown had been a man of simple habits and no -tastes. When a working navvy he had acquired a liking for oatmeal -porridge, and up to the day of his death, when he had some twenty -thousand persons in his employment, each of them earning money for him, -he never rose above this comestible. He lived a thoroughly happy life, -taking no thought about money, and having no idea, beyond the building -of drinking fountains in his native town, how to spend the profits -realized on his enormous transactions. - -Now, as the building of even the most complete system of drinking -fountains, in a small town in Scotland, does not produce much impression -upon the financial position of a man with some millions of pounds in -cash, and making business profits to the extent of two hundred thousand -a year, it was inevitable that, when a brick one afternoon fell on Mr. -John Brown's head and fractured his skull so severely as to cause his -death, his only son should be left very well provided for. - -Archie Brown was left provided with some millions in cash, and with -property that yielded him about one hundred pounds a day. - -Up to the day of his father's death he had never had more than five -hundred a year to spend as pocket-money--he had saved even out of this -modest sum, for he had scarcely any more expensive tastes than his -father, though he had ever regarded _sole la Normande_ as more -palatable than oatmeal porridge as a breakfast dish. - -He had never caused his father a moment's uneasiness; but as soon as he -was given a bird's eye view, so to speak, of his income, he began to ask -himself if there might not be something in the world more palatable even -than _sole la Normande_. - -In the course of a year or two he had learned a good deal on the subject -of what was palatable and what was not; for from the earliest records it -is understood that the knowledge of good and the knowledge of evil may -be found on the one tree. - -He began to be talked about, and that is always worth paying money -for--some excellent judges say that it is the only thing worth paying -money for. Occasionally he paid a trifle over the market price for this -commodity. But then he knew that he generally paid more than the market -price for everything that he bought, from his collars, which were -unusually high, down to his boots, which were of glazed kid, so that he -did not complain. - -He found that, after a while, the tradespeople, seeing that he paid -them cash, treated him fairly, and that the person who supplied him with -cigars was actually generous when he bought them by the thousand. - -People who at first had fancied that Mr. Archibald Brown was a -plunger--that is, a swindler whom they could swindle out of his -thousands--had reason to modify their views on the subject after some -time. For six months he had been imposed upon in many directions. But -with all the other things which had to be paid for, the fruit of -the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil should, he knew, be included. -Imported in a fresh condition this was, he knew, expensive; but he had -a sufficient acquaintance with the elements of fruit-culture to be well -aware of the fact that in this condition it is worth very much more than -the canned article. - -He bought his knowledge of good and evil fresh. - -He was no fool, some people said, exultantly. - -These were the people whose friends had tried to impose on him but had -not succeeded. - -He was no fool, some people said regretfully. - -These were the people who had tried to impose on him but had not -succeeded. - -Harold had always liked Archie Brown, and he had offered him much -advice--vegetarian banquets of the canned fruit of the Tree of -Knowledge. The shrewd outbursts of confidence in which Archie indulged -now and again, showed Harold that he was fast coming to understand his -position in society--his friends and his enemies. - -Harold, after some further persuasion, got into the hansom which Archie -had hailed, and was soon driving down Piccadilly to the spacious rooms -of the latter--rooms furnished in a wonderful fashion. As a panorama -of styles the sitting-room, which was about thirty feet square, with a -greenhouse in the rear, would have been worth much to a lecturer on -the progress or decadence of art--any average lecturer could make the -furniture bear out his views, whether they took one direction or the -other. - -Two cabinets which had belonged to Louis XV were the finest specimens -known in the world. They contained Svres porcelain and briar-root -pipes. A third cabinet was in the purest style of boarding house art. -A small gilt sofa was covered with old French tapestry which would have -brought five pounds the square inch at an auction. Beside it was -the famous Four-guinea Tottenham Armchair in best Utrecht -velvet--three-nine-six in cretonne, carriage paid to any railway-station -in the United Kingdom. - -A chair, the frame of which was wholly of ivory, carved in Italy, in the -seventeenth century, by the greatest artist that ever lived, apparently -had its uses in Archie Brown's _entourage_, for it sustained in an -upright position a half-empty soda-water bottle--the bottle would not -have stood upright but for the high relief in the carving of the flowing -hair of the figure of Atalanta at one part of the frame. Near it was an -interesting old oak chair that was for some time believed to have once -belonged to King Henry VIII. - -In achieving this striking contrast to the carved ivory, Mr. Brown -thought that he had proved his capacity to appreciate an important -element in artistic arrangement. He pointed it out to Harold without -delay. He had pointed it out to every other person who had visited his -rooms. - -He also pointed out a picture by one Rembrandt which he had picked up -at an auction for forty shillings. A dealer had subsequently assured him -that if he wanted a companion picture by the same painter he would -not guarantee to procure it for him at a lower figure than -twenty-five guineas--perhaps it might even cost him as high as thirty; -therefore--the logic was Archie's--the Rembrandt had been a dead -bargain. - -Harold looked at this Burgomaster's Daughter in eighteenth century -costume, and said that undoubtedly the painter knew what he was about. - -"And so does Archie, tarty chip," said his host, leading him to one of -the bedrooms. - -"Now it's half past seven," said Archie, leaving him, "and dinner will -be served at a quarter to eight. I've never been late but once, and -Achille was so hurt that he gave me notice. I promised that it should -never occur again, and it hasn't. He doesn't insist on my dressing for -dinner, though he says he should like it." - -"Make my apologies to Achille," said Harold. - -"Oh, that won't be necessary," said Archie seriously--"at least I think -it won't." - -Harold had never been in these rooms before--he wondered how it had -chanced that he came to them at all. But before he had partaken of more -than one of the _hors d'ouvres_--there were four of them--he knew -that he had done well to come. Achille was an artist, the Sauterne was -Chateau Coutet of 1861, and the champagne was, as Archie had promised -it should be, Heidsieck of 1884. The electric light was artfully toned -down, and the middle-aged butler understood his business. - -"This is the family trough," said Archie. "I say, Harry, isn't it one -better than the oatmeal porridge of our dads--I mean of my dad; yours, I -know, was always one of us; my dad wasn't, God bless him! If he had been -we shouldn't be here now. He'd have died a pauper." - -Harold so far forgot himself as to say, "Doesn't Carlyle remark -somewhere that it's the fathers who work that the sons--ah, never mind." - -"Carlyle? What Carlyle was that? Do I know him?" asked Archie. - -"No," said Harold, shaking his head. - -"He isn't a tarty chip, eh?" - -"Tart, not tarty." - -"Oh. Don't neglect this jelly. It's the best thing that Achille does. -It's the only thing that he ever repeats himself in. He came to me -boasting that he could give me three hundred and sixty-five different -dinners in the year. 'That's all very well,' said I, 'but what about -Leap Year?' I showed him there that his bluff wouldn't do. 'Pass' said -I, and he passed. But we understand one another now. I will say that he -has never repeated himself except in this jelly. I make him give it to -me once a week." - -"You're right," said Harold. "It is something to think about." - -"Yes, while you're in front of it, but never after," said Archie. -"That's what Achille says. 'The true dinner,' says he, 'is the one that -makes you think while you're at it, but that never causes you a thought -afterwards.'" - -"Achille is more than an artist, he is a philosopher," said Harold. -"What does he call this?" he glanced at the menu card. "'_Glace la -chagrin d'Achille_' What does he mean by that? 'The chagrin of -Achilles'? Where does the chagrin come in?" - -"Oh, he has some story about a namesake of his," said Archie. "He was -cut up about something, and he wouldn't come out of the marquee." - -"The tent," cried Harold. "Achilles sulked in his tent. Of course, -that's the '_chagrin d'Achille_.'" - -"Oh, you heard of it too? Then the story has managed to leak out -somehow. They always do. There's nothing in it. Now I'll tell you all -about the show. Try one of these figs." - -Harold helped himself to a green fig, the elderly butler placed a -decanter of claret on the table, and disappeared with the noiselessness -of a shadow. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX.--ON THE LEGITIMATE IN ART. - -WHEN the history of the drama in England during the last twenty years -of the nineteenth century comes to be written, the episode of the -management of the Legitimate Theatre by Mrs. Mowbray will doubtless be -amply treated from the standpoint of art, and the historian will, it may -be confidently expected, lament the want of appreciation on the part -of the public for the Shakespearian drama, to which the closing of the -Legitimate Theatre was due. - -There were a considerable number of persons, however, who showed a -readiness to assert that the management of the Legitimate by Mrs. -Mowbray should be looked upon as a purely--only purely was not the word -they used--social incident, having no basis whatever in art. It -failed, they said, not because the people of England had ceased to -love Shakespeare, but because Mr. Archie Brown had ceased to love Mrs. -Mowbray. - -However this may be, there were also people who said that the Legitimate -Theatre under the management of Mrs. Mowbray could not have been so -great a financial failure, after all; for Mrs. Mowbray, when her -season came to an end, wore as expensive dresses as ever, and drove as -expensive horses as ever; and as everyone who had been associated with -the enterprise had been paid--some people said overpaid--the natural -assumption was that Shakespeare on the stage was not so abhorrent to the -people of England as was generally supposed. - -The people who took this view of the matter were people who had never -heard the name of Mr. Archie Brown--people who regarded Mrs. Mowbray -as a self-sacrificing lady who had so enthusiastic a desire to make the -public acquainted with the beauties of Shakespeare, that she was quite -content to spend her own fortune (wherever that came from) in producing -"Cymbeline" and other masterpieces at the Legitimate. - -There were other people who said that Archie Brown was a young ass. - -There were others who said that Mrs. Mowbray was a harpy. - -There were others still--they were mostly men--who said that Mrs. -Mowbray was the handsomest woman in England. - -The bitterest--they were mostly women--said that she was both handsome -and a harpy. - -The truth regarding the difficult question of the Legitimate Theatre was -gathered by Harold Wynne, as he swallowed his claret and ate his olives -at the dining table at Archie Birown's rooms in Piccadilly. - -He perceived from what Archie told him, that Archie had a genuine -enthusiasm in the cause of Shakespeare. How he had acquired it, he might -have had considerable difficulty in explaining. He also gathered that -Mrs. Mowbray cared very little for Shakespeare except as a medium for -impressing upon the public the fact--she believed it to be a fact--that -Mrs. Mowbray was the most beautiful woman in England. - -"Cymbeline" had, she considered, been written in the prophetic instinct, -which the author so frequently manifested, that one day a woman with -such shapely limbs as Mrs. Mowbray undoubtedly possessed, might desire -to exhibit them to the public of this grand old England of Shakespeare's -and ours. - -Mrs. Mowbray was probably the most expensive taste that any man in -England could entertain. - -All this Harold gathered from the account of the theatrical enterprise, -as communicated to him by Archie after dinner. - -And the best of it all was, Archie assured him, that no human being -could say a word against the character of Mrs. Mowbray. - -"I never heard a word against the character of her frocks," said Harold. - -"It's a big thing, the management of the Legitimate," said Archie, -gravely. - -"No doubt; even when it's managed, shall we say, legitimately?" said -Harold. - -"I feel the responsibility, I can tell you," said Archie. "Shakespeare -has never been given a proper chance in England; and although she's a -year or two older than me, yet on the box seat of my coach she doesn't -look a day over twenty-two--just when a woman is at her best, Harry. -What I want to know is, shall it be said of us that Shakespeare--the -immortal Shakespeare, mind you--Stratford upon Avon, you know--" - -"I believe I have his late address," said Harold. - -"That's all right. But what I want to know is, shall it be said that -we are willing to throw our Shakespeare overboard? In the scene in the -front of the cave she is particularly fine." - -In an instant Harold's thoughts were carried back to a certain scene -in front of a cave on a moonlight night; and for him the roar of life -through Piccadilly was changed to the roar of the Atlantic. His thoughts -remained far away while Archie talked gravely of building himself a -monument by his revival of "Cymbeline", with which the Legitimate had -been opened by Mrs. Mowbray. Of course, the thing hadn't begun to pay -yet, he explained. Everyone knew that the Bicycle had ruined theatrical -business in London; but the Legitimate could fight even the Bicycle, and -when the public had the beauty of Mrs. Mowbray properly impressed upon -them, Shakespeare would certainly obtain that recognition which he -deserves from England. Were Englishmen proud of Shakespeare, or were -they not? that was what Archie wished very much to know. If the people -of your so-called British Islands wish to throw Shakespeare overboard, -just let them say so. But if they threw him over, the responsibility -would rest with them; Mrs. Mowbray would still be the handsomest woman -in England. At any rate, "Cymbeline" at the Legitimate would be a -monument. - -"As a lighthouse is a monument," said Harold, coming back from the Irish -lough to Piccadilly. - -"I knew you'd agree with me," said Archie. "You know that I've always -had a great respect for your opinion, Harry. I don't object so much as -some tarty chips to your dad. I wish he'd see Mrs. Mowbray. There's no -vet. whose opinion I'd sooner take on the subject than his. He'd find -her all right." - -Harold looked at the young man whose plain features--visible when he did -not smile too broadly--displayed the enthusiasm that possessed him when -he was fancying that his devotion to the beauty of Mrs. Mowbray was a -true devotion to Shakespeare. Archie Brown, he was well aware, was very -imperfectly educated. - -He was not, however, much worse than the general run of people. Like -them he knew only enough of Shakespeare to be able to misquote him now -and again; and, like them, he believed that. Darwinism meant nothing -more than that men had once been monkeys. - -Harold looked at Archie, and felt that Mrs. Mowbray was a fortunate woman -in having met with him. The monument was being raised, Harold felt; and -he was right. The management of the Legitimate-Theatre was a memorial to -Vanity working heart, and soul with Ignorance to the praise and glory of -Shakespeare. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI.--ON A BLACK SHEEP. - -BEFORE Archie had completed his confidences, a visitor was announced. - -"Oh, it's only old Playdell," said Archie. "You know old Playdell, of -course." - -"I'm not so certain that I do," said Harold. - -"Oh, he's a good old soul who was kicked out of the Church by the bishop -for doing something or other. He's useful to me--keeps my correspondence -in order--spots the chaps that write the begging letters, and sees that -they don't get anything out of me, while he takes care that all the -genuine ones get all that they deserve. He's an Oxford man." - -"Playdell--Playdell," said Harold. "Surely he can't be the fellow that -got run out for marrying people without a licence?" - -"That's his speciality," said Archie. "Come along, chippie Chaplain. -Chip in, and have a glass of something." - -A middle-aged man, wearing the coat and the tie of a cleric, entered the -room with a smile and a bow to Harold. - -"You've heard of Mr. Wynne, Play?" said Archie. "The Honourable Harold -Wynne. He's heard of you--yes, you bet your hoofs on that." - -"I dare say you've heard of me, Mr. Wynne," said the man. "It's the -black sheep in a flock that obtain notoriety; the colourless ones escape -notice. I'm a black sheep." - -"You're about as black as they make them, old Play," remarked Archie, -with a prompt and kindly acquiescence. "But your blackness doesn't go -deeper than the wool." - -"You say that because you are always disposed to be charitable, Archie," -said Mr. Playdell. "Even with you I'm afraid that another notorious -character is not so black as he's painted." - -"Neither he is," said Archie. "You know as well as I do that the devil -is not so black as he used to be--he's turning gray in his old age." - -"They treated me worse than they treated the Fiend himself, Mr. Wynne," -said Playdell. "They turned me out of the Church, but the Church still -retains the Prince of Darkness. He is still the most powerful auxiliary -that the Church knows." - -"If you expressed that sentiment when in orders," said Harold, "I can -quite easily understand how you find yourself outside the Church." - -"I was quite orthodox when in the Church, Mr. Wynne. I couldn't afford -to be otherwise," said Playdell. "I wasn't even an Honest Doubter. I -felt that if I had begun to doubt I might become a Dissenter before -I knew what I was about. It is only since I left the Church that I've -indulged in the luxury of being unorthodox." - -"Take a glass of wine for your stomach's sake," said Archie. - -"That lad is the son of a Scotch Nonconformist," said Mr. Playdell -to Harold; "hence the text. Would it be unorthodox to say that an -inscrutable Providence did not see fit to preserve the reply of Timothy -to that advice? For my own part I cannot doubt for a moment that Timothy -inquired for what other reason his correspondent fancied he might take -the wine. I like my young patron's La Rose. It must have been something -very different from this that the person alluded to when he said 'my -love is better than wine.' Yes, I've always thought that the truth of -the statement was largely dependent on the wine." - -"I'll take my oath that isn't orthodox," said Archie. "You'd better mind -what you're about, chippie Chaplain, or I'll treat you as the bishop -did. This is an orthodox household, let me tell you." - -"I feel like Balaam's ass sometimes, Mr. Wynne, in this situation," said -Mr. Playdell. "In endeavouring to avoid the angel with the sword on one -hand--that is the threatening orthodoxy of the Church--I make myself -liable to a blow from the staff of the prophet--our young friend is the -prophet." - -"I will say this for you, chippie Chaplain," said Archie, "you've kept -me straight. Not that I ever did take kindly to the flowing bowl; but we -all know what temptations there are." He looked into his glass and spoke -solemnly, shaking his head. "Yes, Harry, I've never drunk a thimbleful -more than I should since old Play here lectured me." - -"If I could only persuade you--''commenced Mr. Playdell. - -"But I'm not such an ass," cried Archie, interrupting him. Then he -turned to Harold, saying, "The chippie Chaplain wants to marry me -to some one whose name we never mention. That has always been his -weakness--marrying tarty chips that he had no right to marry." - -"If I don't mistake, Mr. Playdell, it was this little weakness that -brought you to grief," said Harold. - -"It was the only point that the bishop could lay hold of, Mr. Wynne," -said Playdell. "I held, and I still hold, that the ceremony of marriage -may be performed by any person who has been ordained--that the question -of a licence is not one that should come forward upon any occasion. -Those who hold other opinions are those who would degrade the ordinance -into a mere civil act." - -"And you married without question every couple who came to you, I -believe?" said Harold. - -"I did, Mr. Wynne. And I will be happy to marry any other couples who -come to me for that purpose now." - -"But, you are no longer in the Church, and such marriages would be no -marriages in the eyes of the law." - -"Nothing can be more certain, Mr. Wynne. But I know that there are many -persons in this country who hold, with me, that the ordinance is not one -that should be made the subject of a licence bought from a bishop--who -hold that the very act of purchase is a gross degradation of the -ordinance of God." - -"I say, chippie Chaplain, haven't we had enough of that?" said Archie. -"You've pegged away at that marriage business with me for a good many -months. Now, I say, pass the marriage business. Let us have a fresh -deal." - -"Mr. Wynne, I merely wished to explain my position to you," said -Playdell. "I'm on the side of the angels in this question, as a great -statesman but a poor scientist said of another question." - -"Pass the statesman as well," cried Archie. - -"What do tarty chips like us care for politics or other fads? He told -me the other day, Harry, that instead of introducing a bill for the -admission of ladies as members of Parliament, it would soon be necessary -to introduce a bill for the admission of gentlemen as members--yes, you -said that. You can't deny it." - -"I don't," said Mr. Playdell. "The result of the last General -Election--" - -"Pass the General Election," shouted Archie. "Mr. Wynne hates that sort -of thing. Now give an account of yourself. What have you done to earn -your screw since morning?" - -"This is what I have come to, Mr. Wynne," said Playdell. "Think of it; a -clergyman and M.A. Oxon, forced to give an account of his stewardship to -a young cub like that!" He laughed after a moment of seriousness. - -"You don't seem to feel deeply the degradation," remarked Harold. - -"It's nothing to the depths to which I have fallen," said Mr. Playdell. -"I was never more than a curate, but in spite of the drawback of -being privileged to preach the Gospel twice a week, the curacy was a -comfortable one. I published two volumes of my sermons, Mr. Wynne. They -sold poorly in England, but I believe that in America they made the -fortune of the publishers that pirated them. It is perfectly well known -that my sermons achieved a great and good purpose in the States. They -were practical. I will say that for them. The leader of the corner in -hogs who ran the prices up last autumn, sold out of the business, I -understand, after reading my sermon on the text, 'The husks that the -swine do eat.' Several judges also resigned, admitting that they -were converted. It was freely stated that even a Congressman had been -reformed by one sermon of mine, while another was known to have brought -tears to the eyes of a reporter on the _New York Herald_. And yet, with -all these gratifying results, I never got a penny out of the American -edition. Just think what would happen on this side of the Atlantic if, -let us say, a Royal Academician were to find grace through a sermon, -or--to assume an extreme case--a member of the Stock Exchange? Why, -the writer would be a made man. I had thoughts of going to America, -Mr. Wynne. At any rate, I'm going to deal with the publishers there -directly. A firm in Boston is at present about to boom a Bowdlerized -edition of the Bible which I have prepared for family reading in the -States--not a word in it that the purest-minded young woman in all -Boston might not see. It should sell, Mr. Wynne. I'm also translating -into English a volume of American humour." - -"I'll give you a chance of going to America, before you sleep if you -don't dry up about your sermons and suchlike skittles," said Archie. -"The decanter's beside you. Fill your glass. Mr. Wynne is coming to my -show to-night." - -Mr. Playdell passed the decanter without filling his glass. "You know -that I never take more than one glass of La Rose," said he. "I have -found out all about your house painter who fell off the ladder and broke -all his ribs--he is the same as your Clergyman's Orphan, and he lives -in the same house as your Widow of a Naval Officer whose little all -was invested in a fraudulent building society--he is also 'First -Thessalonians seven and ten. P.O.O. or stamps'." - -"Great Godfrey!" cried Archie; "and I had already written out a cheque -for twenty pounds to send to that swindler! Do you mean to tell me, -Play, that all those you've mentioned are impostors?" - -"All? Why, there's only one impostor among the lot," said Mr. Playdell. -"He is 'First Thessalonians,' and he has at least a dozen branch -establishments." - -"It's enough to make a tarty chip disgusted with God's footstool," said -Archie. "Before old Play took me in hand I used to fling decimals about -right and left, without inquiry." - -"He was the sole support of several of the most notorious swindlers -in the country," said Mr. Playdell. "I've managed to whittle them down -considerably. Shakespeare is at present the only impostor that has -defied my efforts," he added, in a whisper to Harold. - -Harold laughed. He was beginning to feel some remorse at having -previously looked on Archie Brown as a good-natured fool. He now felt -that, in spite of Mrs. Mowbray, he would not wreck his life. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII.--ON SHAKESPEARE AND SUPPER. - -CARRIAGES by the score were waiting at the fine Corinthian entrance -to the Legitimate, when Harold and Archie reached the theatre in their -hansom. The _faade_ of the Legitimate Theatre is so severely Corinthian -that foreign visitors invariably ask what church it is. - -It was probably the classical columns supporting the pediment of the -entrance that caused Archie to abate his frivolous conversation with his -friend in the hansom--Archie had been expressing the opinion that it was -exhilarating--only exhilarating was not the word he used--to swear at -a man who had once been a clergyman and who still wore the dress of a -cleric. "A chap feels that his turn has come," he had said. "No matter -how wrong they are you can't swear at them and tell them to come down -out of that, when they're in their own pulpits--they'd have you up for -brawling. That's why I like to take it out of old Playdell. He tells me, -however, that there's no dean in the Church that gathers in the decimals -as he does in my shop. But, bless you! he saves me his screw three times -over." - -But now that the classical front of the Legitimate came in view, Archie -became solemn. - -He possibly appreciated the feelings of a conscientious clergyman when -about to enter his Church. - -Shakespeare was a great responsibility. - -So was Mrs. Mowbray. - -The performance was not quite over; but before Archie had paid the -hansomeer, the audience was streaming out from every door. - -"Stand here and listen to what the people are saying." whispered Archie. -"I often do it. It is only in this way that you can learn how much -appreciation for Shakespeare still remains in England." - -He took up his position with Harold at the foot of the splendid -staircase of the theatre, where the people chatted together while -waiting for their carriages. - -With scarcely an exception, the remarks had a hearing upon the -performance of "Cymbeline." Only two ladies confined their criticisms to -their respective medical advisers. - -Of the others, one man said that Mrs. Mowbray bore a striking -resemblance to her photographs. - -A second said that she was the most beautiful woman in England. - -A third said that she knocked sparks out of Polly Floss in the same line -of business. (Polly Floss was the leading exponent of burlesque). - -One woman said that Mrs. Mowbray was most picturesquely dressed. - -A second said that she was most picturesquely undressed. - -A third wondered if Liberty had got the exact tint of the robe that Mrs. -Mowbray had worn in the second act. - -"And yet some people say that there's no appreciation of Shakespeare in -England!" said Archie, as he led Harold round the stalls, over which -the attendants were spreading covers, and on to Mrs. Mowbray's private -rooms. - -"From the crowds that went out by every door, I judge that the theatre -is making money, at any rate; and I suppose that's the most practical -test of appreciation," said Harold. - -"Oh, they don't all pay," said Archie. "That's a feature of theatrical -management that it takes an outsider some time to understand. Mrs. -Mowbray should understand it pretty well by this time, so should her -business manager. I'm just getting to understand it." - -"You mean to say that the people are allowed to come in without paying?" - -"It amounts to that in the long run--literally the long run--of the -piece, I believe. Upon my soul, there are some people who fancy that -a chap runs a show as a sort of free entertainment for the public. The -dramatic critics seem to fancy that a chap produces a play, simply in -order to give them an opportunity of showing off their own cleverness -in slating it. It seems that a writer-chap can't show his cleverness in -praising a piece, but only in slanging it." - -"I think that I'd try and make people pay for their seats." - -"I used always to pay for mine in the old days--but then, I was always -squandering my money." - -"I have always paid for mine." - -"The manager says that if you asked people to pay, they'd be mortally -offended and never enter the theatre again, and where would you be -then?" - -"Where, indeed?" said Harold. "I expect your manager must know his -business thoroughly." - -"He does. It requires tact to get people to come to see Shakespeare," -said Archie. "But a chap can't build a monument for himself without -paying for it." - -"It would be ridiculous to expect it," said Harold. - -Pushing aside a magnificent piece of heavy drapery, Archie brought his -friend into a passage illuminated by the electric light; and knocking at -a door at the farther end, he was admitted by Mrs. Mowbray's maid, into -a prettily-furnished sitting-room and into the presence of Mrs. Mowbray, -who was sitting robed in something very exquisite and cloud-like--not -exactly a peignoir but something that suggested a peignoir. - -She was like a picture by Romney. If one could imagine all the charm -of all the pictures of Emma Hamilton (_ne_ Lyon) which Romney painted, -meeting harmoniously in another creature, one would come within -reasonable distance of seeing Mrs. Mowbray, as Harold saw her when he -entered the room. - -Even with the disadvantage of the exaggerated colour and the -over-emphasized eye-lashes necessary for the searching illumination of -the footlights, she was very lovely, Harold acknowledged. - -But all the loveliness of Mrs. Mowbray produced but a trifling effect -compared to that produced by her charm of manner. She was the most -natural woman ever known. - -The position of the natural man has been defined by an eminent -authority. But who shall define the position of the natural woman? - -It was Mrs. Mowbray's perfect simplicity, especially when talking to -men--as a matter of fact she preferred talking to men rather than to -women--that made her seem so lovely--nay, that made a man feel that it -was good for him to be in her presence. She was devoid of the smallest -trace of affectation. She seemed the embodiment of truth. She never -smiled for the sake of conventionality. But when she did smile, just -as Harold entered the room, her head turning round so that her face -was looking over her shoulder, she had all the spiritual beauty of the -loveliest picture ever painted by Greuze, consequently the loveliest -picture ever painted by the hand of man. - -And yet she was so very human. - -An Algy and an Eddy were already in the room--the first was a Marquis, -the second was the eldest son of a duke. Both were handsome lads, of -quiet manners, and both were in the Household Cavalry. Mrs. Mowbray -liked to be surrounded by the youngest of men. - -Harold had been acquainted with her long before she had become an -actress. He had not had an opportunity of meeting her since; but he -found that she remembered him very well. - -She had heard of his father, she said, looking at him in a way that did -not in the least suggest a picture by Greuze. - -When people referred to his father they did not usually assume a look -of innocence. Most of them would have had difficulty in assuming such a -look under any circumstances. - -"My father is frequently heard of," said Harold. - -"And your father's son also," said Mrs. Mowbray. "What a freak of Lady -Innisfail's! She lured you all across to Ireland. I heard so much. And -what came of it, after all?" - -"Acute admiration for the allurements of Lady Innisfail in my case, and -a touch of acute rheumatism in my father's case," said Harold. - -"Neither will be fatal to the sufferers," said Mrs. Mowbray--"or to Lady -Innisfail, for that matter," she added. - -"I should say not," remarked Algy. "We all admire Lady Innisfail." - -"Few cases of acute admiration of Lady Innisfail have proved fatal, so -far as I can hear, Lord Brackenthorpe," said Mrs. Mowbray. "Young mem -have suffered from it and have become exemplary husbands and parents." - -"And if they don't live happy, that we may," said Archie. - -"That's the end of the whole matter," said. Harold. - -"That's the end of the orthodox fairy tale," said Mrs. Mowbray. "Was -your visit to Ireland a fairy story, Mr. Wynne?" - -Harold wondered how much this woman knew of the details of his visit -to Ireland. Before he-could think of an answer in the same strain, Mrs. -Mowbray had risen from the little gilt sofa, and had taken a step or two -toward her dressing-room. The look she tossed to Harold, when she turned -round with her fingers on the handle of the door, was a marvellous one. - -Had it been attempted by any other woman, it would have provoked -derision on the part of the average man--certainly on the part of Harold -Wynne. But, coming from Mrs. Mowbray, it conveyed--well, all that she -meant it to convey. It was not merely fascinating, it was fascination -itself. - -It was such a look as this, he felt--but nearly a year had passed before -he had thought of the parallel--that Venus had cast at Paris upon a -momentous occasion. It was the glance of Venus Victrix. It made a man -think--a year or so afterwards--of Ahola and Aholibah, of Ashtoreth, of -Cleopatra, of Faustina, of Iseult, of Rosamond. - -And yet the momentary expression of her features was as simple and as -natural as that worn by one of Greuze's girls. - -"She'll not be more than ten minutes," said - -Archie. "I don't know how she manages to dress herself in the time." - -He did not exaggerate. Mrs. Mowbray returned in ten minutes, with no -trace of paint upon her face, wearing a robe that seemed to surround her -with fleecy clouds. The garment was not much more than an atmosphere--it -was a good deal less substantial than the atmosphere of London in -December or that of Sheffield in June. - -"We shall have the pleasantest of suppers," she said, "and the -pleasantest of chats. I understand that Mr. Wynne has solved the Irish -problem." - -"And what is the solution, Mrs. Mowbray?" said Lord Brackenthorpe. - -"The solution--ah--'a gray eye or so'," said Mrs. Mowbray. - -The little Mercutio swagger with which she gave point to the words, was -better than anything she had done on the stage. - -"And now, Mr. Wynne, you must lead the way with me to our little -supper-room," said she, before the laugh, in which everyone joined, at -the pretty bit of comedy, had ceased. - -Harold gave her his arm. - -When at the point of entering the room--it was daintily furnished with -old English oak and old English silver--Mrs. Mowbray said, in the most -casual way possible, "I hope you will tell me all that may be told about -that charming White Lady of the Cave. How amusing it must have been to -watch the chagrin of Lord Fotheringay, when Mr. Airey gave him to -understand that he meant to make love to that young person with the -wonderful eyes." - -"It was intensely amusing, indeed," said Harold, who had become prepared -for anything that Mrs. Mowbray might say. - -"Yes, you must have been amused; for, of course, you knew that Mr. Airey -was not in earnest--that he had simply been told off by Miss Craven to -amuse himself with the young person, in order to induce her to take her -beautiful eyes off--off--someone else, and to turn them admiringly upon -Mr. Airey." - -"That was the most amusing part of the comedy, of course," said Harold. - -"What fools some girls are!" laughed Mrs. Mowbray. It was well known -that she disliked the society of women. - -"It's a wise provision of nature that the fools should be the girls." - -"Oh, I have known a fool or two among men," said Mrs. Mowbray, with -another laugh. - -"Have known--did you say _have known?_" said Harold. - -"Any girl who has lived in this world of ours for a quarter of a -century, should have seen enough to make her aware of the fact that the -best way to set about increasing the passion of, let us say, the average -man--" - -"No, the average man is passionless." - -"Well, the passion of whatever man you please--for a young woman whom he -loves, or fancies he loves--it's all the same in the end--is to induce -him to believe that several other men are also in love with her." - -"That is one of the rudiments of a science of which you are the leading -exponent," said Harold. - -"And yet Miss Craven was foolish enough to fancy that the man of whom -she was thinking, would give himself up to think of her so soon as he -believed that Mr. Airey was in love with her rival! Ah, here are our -lentils and pulse. How good it is of you to imperil your digestions by -taking supper with me, when only a few hours can have passed since you -dined." - -"Digestion is not an immortal soul," said Harold, "and I believe that -immortal souls have been imperilled before now, for the sake of taking -supper with the most beautiful woman in the world." - -"Have you ever heard a woman say that I am beautiful?" she asked. - -"Never," said Harold. "That is the one sin which a woman never pardons -in another." - -"You do not know women--" with a little pitying smile. "A woman will -forgive a woman for being more beautiful than herself--for being less -virtuous than herself, but never for being better-dressed than herself." - -"For how many of the three sins do you ask forgiveness of woman--two or -three?" said Harold, gently. - -But instead of making an answer, Mrs. Mowbray said something about the -necessity of cherishing a digestion. It was disgraceful, she said, that -bread-and-butter and arithmetic should be forced upon a school boy--that -such magnificent powers of digestion as he possessed should not be -utilized ta the uttermost. - -Lord Brackenthorpe said he knew a clever artist chap, who had drawn -a sketch of about a thousand people crowding over one another, in an -American hotel, in order to see a boy, who had been overheard asking his -mother what was the meaning of the word dyspepsia. - -Mrs. Mowbray wondered if the melancholy of Hamlet was due to a weak -digestion. - -Harold said he thought it should rather be accepted as evidence that -there was a Schleswig-Holstein question even in Hamlet's day. - -Meantime, the pheasants and sparkling red Burgundy were affording -compensation for the absence of any brilliant talk. - -Then the young men lit their cigarettes. Mrs. Mowbray had never been -known to risk her reputation (for femininity) by letting a cigarette -between her lips; but her femininity was in no way jeopardized--rather -was it accentuated--by her liking to be in the neighbourhood of where -cigarettes were being smoked--that is, when the cigarettes were good and -when the smokers were pleasant young men with titles, or even unpleasant -young men with thousands. - -After the lapse of an hour, a message came regarding Mrs. Mowbray's -brougham. Her guests rose and she looked about for her wrap. - -While Harold Wynne was laying it on her lovely shoulders, she kept -her eyes fixed upon his. Hers were full of intelligence. When he -had carefully fastened the gold clasp just beneath the hollow of her -throat--it required very careful handling--she poised her head to the -extent of perhaps a quarter of an inch to one side, and laughed; then -she moved away from him, but turned her head so that her face was once -more over her shoulder, like the face of the Greuze girl from whom she -had learnt the trick. - -He knew that she wanted him to ask her from whom she had heard the -stories regarding Castle Innisfail and its guests. - -He also knew that the reason she wanted him to ask her this question, -was in order that she might have the delight of refusing to answer him, -while keeping him in the expectancy of receiving an answer. - -Such a delight would, of course, be a malicious one. But he knew that it -would be a thoroughly womanly one, and he knew that Mrs. Mowbray was a -thorough woman. - -Therefore he laughed back at her and did not ask her anything--not even -to take his arm out to her brougham. - -Archie Brown did, and she took his arm, still looking over her shoulder -at Harold. - -It only needed that the lovely, wicked look should vanish in a sentence. - -And it did. - -The full lips parted, and the poise of the head was increased by perhaps -the eighth part of an inch. - -"'A gray eye or so,'" she murmured. - -Her laughter rang down the corridor. - -"And the best of it all is, that no one can say a word against her -character," said Archie. - -This was the conclusion of his rhapsody in the hansom, in which he and -Harold were driving down Piccadilly--a rhapsody upon the beauty, the -genius, and the expensiveness of Mrs. Mowbray. - -Harold was silent. The truth was that he was thinking about something -far apart from Mrs. Mowbray, her beauty, her doubtful genius, and her -undoubted power of spending money. - -"What do you say?" said Archie. "Great Godfrey! you don't mean to say -that you've heard a word breathed against her character?" - -"On the contrary," said Harold, "I've always heard it asserted that Mrs. -Mowbray is the best dressed woman in London." - -"Give me your hand, old chap; I knew that I could trust you to do her -justice," cried Archie. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII.--ON BLESSING OR DOOM. - -EVEN before he slept, Harold Wynne found that he had a good many -matters to think about, in addition to the exquisitely natural poises of -Mrs. Mowbray's shapely head. - -It was apparent to him that Mrs. Mowbray had somehow obtained a -circumstantial account of the appearance of Beatrice Avon at the Irish -Castle, and of the effect that had been produced, in more than one -direction, by her appearance. - -But the most important information that he had derived from Mrs. Mowbray -was that which had reference to the attitude of Edmund Airey toward -Beatrice. - -Undoubtedly, Mrs. Mowbray had, by some means, come to be possessed of -the truth regarding the apparent fascination which Beatrice had for -Edmund Airey. It was a trick--it was the result of a conspiracy between -Helen Craven and Edmund, in order that he, Harold, should be prevented -from even telling Beatrice that he loved her. Helen had felt certain -that Beatrice, when she fancied--poor girl!--that she had produced so -extraordinary an impression upon the wealthy and distinguished man, -would be likely to treat the poor and undistinguished man, whose name -was Harold Wynne, in such a way as would prevent him from ever telling -her that he loved her! - -And Edmund had not hesitated to play the part which Helen had assigned -to him! For more than a moment did Harold feel that his friend had -behaved in a grossly dishonourable way. But he knew that his friend, -if taxed with behaving dishonourably, would be ready to prove--if he -thought it necessary--that, so far from acting dishonourably, he had -shown himself to be Harold's best friend, by doing his best to prevent -Harold from asking a penniless girl to be his wife. Oh, yes, Mr. -Edmund Airey would have no trouble in showing, to the satisfaction of -a considerable number of people--perhaps, even to his own -satisfaction--that he was acting the part of a truly conscientious; -and, perhaps, a self-sacrificing friend, by adopting Helen Craven's -suggestion. - -Harold felt very bitter toward his friend Edmund Airey; though it was -unreasonable for him to do so; for had not he come to precisely the same -conclusion as his friend in respect of Beatrice, this conclusion being, -of course, that nothing but unhappiness could be the result of his -loving Beatrice, and of his asking Beatrice to love him? - -If Edmund Airey had succeeded in preventing him from carrying out his -designs, Harold would be saved from the necessity of having with -Beatrice that melancholy interview to which he was looking forward; -therefore it was unreasonable for him to entertain any feeling of -bitterness toward Edmund. - -But for all that, he felt very bitterly toward Edmund--a fact which -shows that, in some men as well as in all women, logic is subordinate to -feeling. - -It was also far from logical on his part to begin to think, only after -he had accused his friend of dishonourable conduct, of the source whence -the evidence upon which he had founded his accusation, was derived. - -How had Mrs. Mowbray come to hear how Edmund Airey had plotted with -Helen Craven, he asked himself. He began to wonder how she could have -heard about the gray eyes of Beatrice, to which she had alluded more -than once, with such excellent effect from the standpoint of art. From -whom could she have heard so much? - -She certainly did not hear it from Mr. Durdan, even if she was -acquainted with him, which was doubtful; for Mr. Durdan was discreet. -Besides, Mr. Durdan was rarely eloquent on any social subject. He was -the sort of man who makes a tour on the Continent and returns to tell -you of nothing except a flea at Bellaggio. - -Was it possible that some of the fishing men had been taking notes -unknown to any of their fellow guests, for the benefit of Mrs. Mowbray? - -Harold did not think so. - -After some time he ceased to trouble himself with these vain -speculations. The fact--he believed it to be a fact--remained the same: -someone who had been at Castle Innisfail had given Mrs. Mowbray a highly -circumstantial account of certain occurrences in the neighbourhood of -the Castle; and if Mrs. Mowbray had received such an account, why might -not anyone else be equally favoured? - -Thus it was that he strayed into new regions of speculation, where -he could not possibly find any profit. What did it matter to him if -everyone in London knew that Edmund Airey had plotted with Helen Craven, -to prevent an impecunious man from marrying a penniless girl? All that -remained for him to do was to go to the girl, and tell her that he -had made a mistake--that he would be asking her to make too great a -sacrifice, were he to hold her to her promise to love him and him only. - -It was somewhat curious that his resolution in this matter should be -strengthened by the fact of his having learned that Edmund Airey had not -been in earnest, in what was generally regarded at Castle Innisfail as -an attitude of serious, and not merely autumn, love-making, in respect -of Beatrice. - -He did not feel at all annoyed to learn that, if he were to withdraw -from the side of Beatrice, his place would not be taken by that wealthy -and distinguished man, Edmund Airey. When he had at first made up his -mind to go to Beatrice and ask her to forget that he had ever told her -that he loved her, he had had an uneasy feeling that his friend might -show even a greater interest than he had done on the evening of the -_tableaux_ at the Castle, in the future movements of Beatrice. - -At that time his resolution had not been overwhelming in its force. But -now that Mrs. Mowbray had made that strange communication--it almost -amounted to a revelation--to him, he felt almost impatient at the delay -that he knew there must be before he could see the girl and make his -confession to her. - -He had two more days to think over his resolution, in addition to his -sleepless night after receiving Mrs. Mowbray's confidences; and the -result of keeping his thoughts in the one direction was, that at last he -had almost convinced himself that he was glad that the opportunity had -arrived for him to present himself to the girl, in order to tell her -that he would no longer stand in the way of her loving someone else. - -When he found himself in her presence, however, his convictions on this -particular point were scarcely so strong as they might have been. - -She was sitting in front of the fire in the great drawing-room that -retained all the original decorations of the Brothers Adam, and she was -wearing something beautifully simple--something creamy, with old lace. -The furniture of the room also belonged to the period of the Adams, and -on the walls were a number of coloured engravings by Bartolozzi after -Cipriani and Angelica Kauffmann. - -She was in his arms in a moment. She gave herself to him as naturally -and as artlessly as though she were a child; and he held her close to -him, looking down upon her face without uttering a word--kissing her -mouth conscientiously, her shell-pink cheeks earnestly, her forehead -scrupulously, and her chin playfully. - -This was how he opened the interview which he had arranged to part them -for ever. - -Then they both drew a long breath simultaneously, and both laughed in -unison. - -Then he held her away from him for a few seconds, looking upon her -exquisite face. Again he kissed her--but this time solemnly and with -something of the father about the action. - -"At last--at last," he said. - -"At last," she murmured in reply. - -"It seems to me that I have never seen you before," said he. "You seem -to be a different person altogether. I do not remember anything of your -face, except your eyes--no, by heavens! your eyes are different also." - -"It was dark as midnight in the depths of that seal-cave," she -whispered. - -"You mean that--ah, yes, my beloved! If I could have seen your eyes at -that moment I know I should have found them full of the light that I -now see in their depths. You remember what I said to you on the morning -after your arrival at the Castle? Your eyes meant everything to me -then--I knew it--beatitude or doom." - -"And you know now what they meant?" - -He looked at her earnestly and passionately for some moments. Then his -hands dropped suddenly as though they were the hands of a man who had -died in a moment--his hands dropped, he turned away his face. - -"God knows, God knows," he said, with what seemed like a moan. - -"Yes," she said; "God knows, and you know as well as God that in my -heart there is nothing that does not mean love for you. Does love mean -blessing or doom?" - -"God knows," said he again. "Your love should mean to me the most -blessed thing on earth." - -"And your love makes me most blessed among women," said she. - -This exchange of thought could scarcely be said to make easier the task -which he had set himself to do before nightfall. - -He seemed to become aware of this, for he went to the high mantelpiece, -and stood with his hands upon it, earnestly examining the carved marble -frieze, cream-tinted with age, which was on a level with his face. - -She knew, however, that he was not examining the carving from the -standpoint of a critic; and she waited silently for whatever was coming. - -It came when he ceased his scrutiny of the classical figures in high -relief, that appeared upon the marble slab. - -"Beatrice, my beloved," said he, and her face brightened. Nothing that -commenced with the assumption that she was his beloved could be very -bad. "I have been in great trouble--I am in great trouble still." - -She was by his side in a moment, and had taken one of his hands in hers. -She held it, looking up to his face with her eyes full of sympathy and -concern. - -"My dearest," he said, "you are all that is good and gracious. We must -part, and for ever." - -She laughed, still looking at his face. There really was something -laughable in the sequence of his words. But her laugh did not make his -task any easier. - -"When I told you that I loved you, Beatrice, I told you the truth," said -he. "If I were to tell you anything else now it would be a falsehood. -But I had no right ever to speak to you of love. I am absolutely -penniless." - -"That is no confession," said she. "I knew all along that you were -dependent upon your father for everything. I felt for you--so did Mr. -Airey." - -"Mr. Airey?" said he. "Mr. Airey mentioned to you that I was a beggar?" - -"Oh, he didn't say that. He only said--what did he say?--something about -the affairs of the world being very badly arranged, otherwise you should -have thousands--oh, he said he felt for you with all his heart." - -"'With all his appreciation of the value of an opportunity,' he should -have said. Never mind Edmund Airey. You, yourself, can see, Beatrice, -how impossible it would be for any man with the least sense of honour, -situated as I am, to ask you to wait--to wait for something indefinite." - -"You did not ask me to wait for anything. You did not ask me to wait -for your love--you gave it to me at once. There is nothing indefinite in -love." - -"My Beatrice, you cannot think that I would ask you for your love -without hoping to marry you?" - -"Then let us be married to-morrow." - -She did not laugh, speaking the words. He could see that she would not -hesitate to marry him at any moment. - -"Would to heaven that we could be, my dearest! But could there be -anything more cruel than for a penniless man, such as I am, to ask a -girl, such as you are, to marry him?" - -"I cannot see where the cruelty would be. People have been very happy -together before now, though they have had very little money between -them." - -"My dear Beatrice, you were not meant to pass your life in squalid -lodgings, with none of the refinements of life around you; and I--well, -I have known what roughing it means; I would face the worst alone; but -I am not selfish enough to seek to drag you down to my level--to ask you -to face hardship for my sake." - -"But I----" - -"Do not say anything, darling: anything that you may say will only make -it the harder to part. I can do it, Beatrice; I am strong enough to say -good-bye." - -"Then say it, Harold." - -She stood facing him, with her wonderful eyes looking steadily into his. -The message that they conveyed to him was such as he could not fail to -read aright. He knew that if he had said goodbye, he would never have a -chance of looking into those eyes again. - -And yet he made the attempt to speak--to say the word that she had -challenged him to utter. His lips were parted for more than a moment. -He suddenly dropped her hand--he had been holding it all the time--and -turned away from her with a passionate gesture. - -"I cannot say it--God help me! I cannot say good-bye," he cried. - -He had flung himself into a sofa and had buried his face in his hands. - -For a short time he had actually felt that he was desirous to part from -her. For some minutes he had been quite sincere. The force of the words -he had made use of to show Beatrice how absolutely necessary it was that -they should part, had not been felt by her; those words had, however, -affected him. He had felt--for the first time, in spite of his previous -self-communing--that he must say good-bye to her, but he found that he -was too weak to say it. - -He felt a hand upon his shoulder. He could feel her gracious presence -near to him, before her voice came. - -"Harold," she said, "if you had said it, I should never have had an -hour's happiness in my life. I would never have seen you again. I felt -that all the happiness of my life was dependent upon your refraining -from speaking those words. Cannot you see, my love, that the matter -has passed out of our hands--that it is out of our power to part now? -Harold, cannot you see that, let it be for good or evil--for heaven or -doom--we must be together? Whatever is before us, we are not two but -one--our lives are joined beyond the power of separation. I am yours; -you are mine." - -He sprang to his feet. He saw that tears were in her eyes. "Let it be -so," he cried. "In God's name let it be so. Whatever may happen, no -suggestion of parting shall come from me. We stand together, and for -ever, Beatrice." - -"For ever and ever," she said. - -That was how their interview came to a close. - -Did he know when he had set out for her home that this would be the -close of their interview--this clasping of the hands--this meeting of -the lips? - -Perhaps he did not. But one thing is certain: if it had not had this -ending, he would have been greatly mortified. - -His vanity would have received a great blow. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV.--ON THE MESSAGE OF THE LILY. - -WALKING Westward to his rooms, he enjoyed once again the same feeling -of exultation, which had been his on the evening of the return from the -seal-hunt. He felt that she was wholly his. - -He had done all that was in his power to show her how very much better -it would be for her to part from him and never to see him again--how -much better it would be for her to marry the wealthy and distinguished -man who had, out of the goodness of his heart, expressed to her a deep -sympathy for his, Harold's, unfortunate condition of dependence upon a -wicked father. But he had not been able to convince her that it would be -to her advantage to adopt this course. - -Yet, instead of feeling deeply humiliated by reason of the failure of -his arguments, he felt exultant. - -"She is mine--she is mine!" he cried, when he found himself alone in his -room in St. James's. "There is none like her, and she is mine!" - -He reflected for a long time upon her beauty. He thought of Mrs. -Mowbray, and he smiled, knowing that Beatrice was far lovelier, though -her loveliness was not of the same impressive type. One did not seem -to breathe near Beatrice that atmosphere heavy with the scent of roses, -which Mrs. Mowbray carried with her for the intoxication of the nations. -Still, the beauty of Beatrice was not a tame thing. It had stirred him, -and it had stirred other men. - -Yes, it had stirred Edmund Airey--he felt certain of it, although he did -not doubt the truth of Mrs. Mowbray's communication on this subject. - -Even though Edmund Airey had been in a plot with Helen, still Harold -felt that he had been stirred by the beauty of Beatrice. - -He thought over this point for some time, and the conclusion that he -came to was, that he could easily find out if Edmund meant to play no -more important a _rle_ than that of partner in Helen Craven's plot. It -was perfectly clear, that if Edmund had merely acted as he had done at -the suggestion of Helen, he would cease to take any further interest in -Beatrice, unless it was his intention to devote his life to carrying out -the plot. - -In the course of some weeks, he would learn all that could be known on -this point; but meantime his condition was a peculiar one. - -He would have felt mortified had he been certain that Edmund Airey had -not really been stirred by the charm of Beatrice; but he would have been -somewhat uneasy had he felt certain that Edmund was deeply in love -with her. He trusted her implicitly--he felt certain of himself in this -respect. Had he not a right to trust her, after the way in which she -had spoken to him--the way in which she had given herself up to him? But -then he felt that he had made use of such definite arguments to her, in -pointing out the advisability of their parting, as caused it to be -quite possible that she might begin to perceive--after a year or two of -waiting--that there was some value in those arguments of his, after all. - -By the time that he had dined with some people, who had sent him a card -on his return to London, and had subjected himself to the mortifying -influence of some unfamiliar _entres_, and a conversation with a woman -who was the survivor of the wreck of spiritualism in London, he was no -longer in the exultant mood of the afternoon. - -"A Fool's Paradise--a Fool's Paradise!" he murmured, as he sat in an -easy-chair, and gazed into his flickering fire. - -It had been very glorious to think that he was beloved by that exquisite -girl--to think of the kisses of her mouth; but whither was the love -leading him? - -His father's words could not be forgotten--those words which he had -spoken from beneath the eiderdown of his bed at Castle Innisfail; and -Harold knew that, should he marry Beatrice, his father would certainly -carry out his threat of cutting off his allowance. - -Thus it was that he sat in his chair feeling that, even though Beatrice -had refused to be separated from him, still they were as completely -parted by circumstances as if she had immediately acknowledged the force -of his arguments, and had accepted, his invitation to say good-bye for -ever. - -Thus it was that he cried, "A Fool's Paradise--a Fool's Paradise!" as he -thought over the whole matter. - -What were the exact elements of the Paradise in which his exclamation -suggested that he was living, he might have had some difficulty in -defining. - -But then the site of the original Paradise is still a matter of -speculation. - -The next day he went to take lunch with her and her father--he had -promised to do so before he had left her, when they had had their -interview. - -It so happened, however, that he only partook of lunch with Beatrice; -for Mr. Avon had, he learned, been compelled to go to Dublin for some -days, to satisfy himself regarding a document which was in a library in -that city. - -Harold did not grumble at the prospect of a long afternoon by her side; -only he could not help feeling that the _mnage_ of the Avon family -was one of the most remarkable that he had ever known. The historical -investigations of Mr. Avon did not seem to induce him to take a -conventional view of his obligations, as the father of an extremely -handsome girl--assuming that he was aware of the fact of her beauty--or -a pessimistic view of modern society. He seemed to allow Beatrice to be -in every way her own mistress--to receive whatever visitors she pleased; -and to lay no narrow-minded prohibition upon such an incident as -lunching _tte--tte_ with a young man, or perhaps--but Harold had no -knowledge of such a case--an old man. - -He wondered if the historian had ever been remonstrated with on this -subject, by such persons as had not had the advantage of scrutinizing -humanity through the medium of state papers. - -Harold thought that, on the whole, he had no reason to take exception -to the liberality of Mr. Avon's system. He reflected that it was to this -system he was indebted for what promised to be an extremely agreeable -afternoon. - -What he did not reflect upon, however, was, that he was indebted to Mr. -Avon's peculiarities--some people would undoubtedly call the system a -peculiar one--for a charmingly irresponsible relationship toward the -historian's daughter. He did not reflect upon the fact, that if the girl -had had the Average Father, or the Vigilant Mother, to say nothing -of the Athletic Brother, he would not have been able, without some -explanation, to visit her, and, on the strength of promising to love -her, to kiss her, as he had now repeatedly done, on the mouth--or even -on the forehead, which is somewhat less satisfying. Everyone knows that -the Vigilant Mother would, by the application of a maternal thumb-screw -which she always carries attached to her bunch of keys, have -extorted from Beatrice a full confession as to the incidents of the -seal-hunt--all except the hunting of the seals--and that this confession -would have led to a visit to the study of the Average Father, in one -corner of which reposes the rack, in working order, for the reception of -the suitor. Everyone knows so much, and also that the alternative of the -paternal rack, is the fist of the Athletic Brother. - -But Mr. Harold Wynne did not seem to reflect upon these points, when he -heard the lightly uttered excuses of Beatrice for her father's absence, -as they seated themselves at the table in the large dining-room. - -His practised eye made him aware of the fact that Beatrice understood -what he considered to be the essentials of a _recherch_ lunch: a lunch -appeals to the eye; but wine appeals to other senses than the sense of -seeing; and the result of his judgment was to convince him that, if -Mr. Avon was as careless in the affairs of the cellar as he was in the -affairs of the drawing-room, he was to be congratulated upon having -about him someone who understood still hock at any rate. - -In the drawing-room, she busied herself in arranging, in Wedgwood bowls, -some flowers that he had brought her--trifles of sprawling orchids, -Eucharis lilies, and a fairy tropical fern or two, all of which are -quite easy to be procured in London in October for the expenditure of -a few sovereigns. The picture that she made bending over her bowls was -inexpressibly lovely. He sat silent, watching her, while she prattled -away with the artless high spirits of a child. She was surely the -loveliest thing yet made by God. He thought of what the pious old writer -had said about a particular fruit, and he paraphrased it in his own -mind, saying, that doubtless God could make a lovelier thing, but -certainly He had never made it. - -"I am delighted to have such sweet flowers now," she cried, as she -observed, with critical eyes, the effect of a bit of flaming crimson--an -orchid suggesting a flamingo in flight--over the turquoise edge of -the bowl. "I am delighted, because I have a prospect of other visitors -beside yourself, my lord." - -"Other visitors?" said he. He wondered if he might venture to suggest -to her the inadvisability of entertaining other visitors during her -father's absence. - -"Other visitors indeed," she replied. "I did not tell you yesterday all -that I had to tell. I forget now what we talked about yesterday. How did -we put in our time?" - -She looked up with laughing eyes across the bowl of flowers, that she -held up to her face. - -"I don't forget--I shall never forget," said he, in a low voice. - -"You must never forget," said she. "But to my visitors--who are they, do -you fancy? Don't try to guess, for if you should succeed I should be too -mortified to be able to tell you that you were right. I will tell you -now. Three days ago--while we were still on the Continent--Miss Craven -called. She promised faithfully to do so at Castle Innisfail--indeed, -she suggested doing so herself; and I found her card waiting for me on -my return with a few words scrawled on it, to tell me that she would -return in some days. I don't think that anything should be in the same -bowl with a Eucharis lily--even the Venus-hair fern looks out of place -beside it." - -She had strayed from her firebrand orchids to the white lilies. - -"You are quite right, indeed," said he. "A lily and you stand alone--you -make everything else in the world seem tawdry." - -"That is not the message of the lily," said she. "But supposing that -Miss Craven should call upon me to-day--would you be glad of such a -third person to our party?" - -"I should kill her, if she were a thousand times Helen Craven," said he, -with a laugh. "But she is only one visitor; who are the others?" - -"Oh, there is only one other, and he is interesting to me only," she -cried. "Yes, I found Mr. Airey's card also waiting for me, and on it -were scrawled almost the very words that were on Miss Craven's card, so -that he may be here at any moment." Harold did not say a word. He sat -watching her as her hands mingled with their sister-lilies on the table. -Something cold seemed to have clasped his heart--a cold doubt that made -him dumb. - -"Yes," she continued; "Mr. Airey asked me one night at Castle Innisfail -to let him know where we should go after leaving Ireland." - -"Yes," said he, in a slow way; "I heard him make that request of you." - -"You heard him? But you were taking part in the _tableaux_ in the hall." - -"I had left the platform and had strayed round to one of the doors. You -told him where you were going?" - -"I told him that we should be in this house in October, and he said -that he would make it a point to be in town early in October, though -Parliament was not to sit until the middle of January. He has kept his -word." - -"Yes, he has kept his word." - -Harold felt that cold hand tightening upon his heart. "I think that he -was interested in me," continued the girl. "I know that I was interested -in him. He knows so much about everything. He is a close friend of -yours, is he not?" - -"Yes," said Harold, without much enthusiasm. "Yes, he was a close friend -of mine. You see, I had my heart set upon going into Parliament--upon so -humble an object may one's aspirations be centred--and Edmund Airey was -my adviser." - -"And what did he advise you to do?" she asked. - -"He advised me to--well, to go into Parliament." He could not bring -himself to tell her what form exactly Edmund Airey's advice had assumed. - -"I am sure that his advice was good," said she. "I think that I would go -to him if I stood in need of advice." - -"Would you, indeed, Beatrice?" said he. He was at the point of telling -her all that he had learned from Mrs. Mowbray; he only restrained -himself by an effort. - -"I believe that he is both clever and wise." - -"The two do not always go together, certainly." - -"They do not. But Mr. Airey is, I think, both." - -"He has been better than either. To be successful is better than to be -either wise or clever. Mr. Airey has been successful. He will get an -Under-Secretaryship if the Government survives the want of confidence of -the Opposition." - -"And you will go into Parliament, Harold?" - -He shook his head. - -"That aspiration is past," said he; "I have chosen the more excellent -career. Now, tell me something of your aspirations, my beloved." - -"To see you daily--to be near you--to--" - -But the enumeration of the terms of her aspirations is unnecessary. - -How was it that some hours after this, Harold Wynne left the house with -that cold feeling still at his heart? - -Was it a pang of doubt in regard to Beatrice, or a pang of jealousy in -regard to Edmund Airey? - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV.--ON THE HOME. - -HAROLD WYNNE remembered how he had made up his mind to judge whether -or not Edmund Airey had been simply playing, in respect of Beatrice, the -part which, according to Mrs. Mowbray's story, had been assigned to him -by Helen Craven. He had made up his mind that unless Edmund Airey -meant to go much further than--according to Mrs. Mowbray's -communication--Helen Craven could reasonably ask him to go, he would not -take the trouble to see Beatrice again. - -Helen could scarcely expect him to give up his life to the furtherance -of her interests with another man. - -Well, he had found that Edmund, so far from showing any intention of -abandoning the position--it has already been defined--which he had -assumed toward Beatrice, had shown, in the plainest possible way, that -he did not mean to lose sight of her. - -And for such a man as he was, to mean so much, meant a great deal, -Harold was forced to acknowledge. - -He spent the remainder of the day which had begun so auspiciously, -wondering if his friend, Edmund Airey, meant to tell Beatrice some day -that he loved her, and, what was very much more important, that he was -anxious to marry her. - -And then that unworthy doubt of which he had become conscious, returned -to him. - -If Edmund Airey, who, at first, had merely been attracted to Beatrice -with a view of furthering what Helen Craven believed to be her -interests, had come to regard her differently--as he, Harold, assumed -that he had--might it not be possible, he asked himself, that Beatrice, -who had just admitted that she had always had some sort of admiration -for Edmund Airey, would------- - -"Never, never, never!" he cried. "She is all that is good and true and -faithful. She is mine--altogether mine!" - -But his mind was in such a condition that the thought which he had tried -to crush down, remained with him to torture him. - -It should not have been a torturing thought, considering that, a few -days before, he had made up his mind that it was his duty to relinquish -Beatrice--to go to her and bid her good-bye for ever. To be sure, he -had failed to realize this honourable intention of his; but what was -honourable at one time was honourable at another, so that the thought -of something occurring to bring about the separation for which he had -professed to be so anxious, should not have been a great trouble to -him--it should have been just the contrary. - -The next day found him in the same condition. The thought occurred -to him, "What if, at this very moment, Edmund Airey is with her, -endeavouring to increase that admiration which he must know Beatrice -entertains for him?" The thought was not a consoling one. Its effect was -to make him think very severely of the laxity of Mr. Avon's _mnage_, -which would make possible such an interview as he had just imagined. -It was a terrible thing, he thought, for a father to show so utter a -disregard for his responsibilities as to----- - -But here he reflected upon something that had occurred to him in -connection with _tte--tte_ interviews, and he thought it better not -to pursue his course of indignant denunciation of the eminent historian. - -He put on an overcoat and went to pay a visit to his sister, who, he had -heard the previous day, was in town for a short time. In another week -she would be entertaining a large party for the pheasant-shooting at her -country-house in Brackenshire, and Harold was to be her guest as well -as Edmund Airey and Helen Craven. It was to this visit that Lord -Fotheringay had alluded in the course of his chamber interview with his -son at Castle Innisfail. - -Harold had now made up his mind that he would not be able to join his -sister's party, and he thought it better to tell her so than to write to -her to this effect. - -Mrs. Lampson was not at home, the servant said, when he had knocked at -the door of the house in Eaton Square. A party was expected for lunch, -however, so that she would probably return within half an hour. - -Harold said he would wait for his sister, and went upstairs. - -There was one person already in the drawingroom and that person was Lord -Fotheringay. - -Harold greeted him, and found that he was in an extremely good humour. -He had never been in better health, he declared. He felt, he said, -as young as the best of them--he prudently refrained from defining -them--and he was still of the opinion that the Home--the dear old -English Home--was where true and lasting happiness alone was to be -found; and he meant to try the Principality of Monaco later on; for -November was too awful in any part of Britain. Yes, he had seen the -influence of the Home upon exiles in various parts of the world. Had he -not seen strong men weep like children--like innocent children--at -the sight of an English post-mark--the post-mark of a simple English -village? Why had they wept, he asked his son, with the well-gloved -forefinger of the professional moralist outstretched? - -His son declined to hazard an answer. - -They had wept those tears--those bitter tears--Lord Fotheringay said, -with solemn emphasis, because their thoughts went back to that village -home of theirs--the father, the mother, perhaps a sister--who could -tell? - -"Ah, my boy," he continued, "''Mid pleasures and palaces'--''mid -pleasures and'--by the way, I looked in at the Rivoli Palace last night. -I heard that there was a woman at that place who did a new dance. I saw -it. A new dance! My dear boy, it wasn't new when I saw it first, and -that's--ah, never mind--it's some years ago. I was greatly disappointed -with it. There's nothing indecent in it--I will say that for it--but -there's nothing enlivening. Ah, the old home of burlesque--the old -home--that's what I was talking about--the Home--the sentiment of the -Home--" - -"Of burlesque?" suggested Harold. - -"Of the devil, sir," said his father. "Don't try to be clever; it's -nearly as bad as being insolent. What about that girl--Helen Craven, I -mean? Have you seen her since you came to town? She's here. She'll be at -Ella's next week. Perhaps it will be your last chance. Heavens above! -To think that a pauper like you should need to be urged to marry such a -girl! A girl with two hundred thousand pounds in cash--a girl belonging -to one of the best families in all--in all Birmingham. Harold, don't be -a fool! Such a chance doesn't come every day." - -Just then Mrs Lampson entered the room and with her, her latest -discovery, the Coming Dramatist. - -Mrs Lampson was invariably making discoveries. But they were mostly -discoveries of quartz; they contained a certain proportion of gold, to -be sure; but when it came to the crushing, they did not yield enough of -the precious metal to pay the incidental expenses of the plant for the -working. - -She had discovered poets and poetesses--the latter by the score. She -had discovered at least one Genius in black and white--his genius being -testified by his refusal to work; and she had discovered a pianoforte -Genius--his genius being proved by the dishevelment of his hair. The -man who had the reputation for being the Greatest Living Atheist was a -welcome guest at her house, and the most ridiculous of living socialists -boasted of having dined at her table. - -She was foremost in every philanthropic movement, and wrote articles to -the magazines, lamenting the low tone of modern society in London. - -She also sneered (in private) at Lady Innisfail. Her latest discovery, -the Coming Dramatist, had had, he proudly declared, his plays returned -to him by the best managers in London, and by the one conscientious -manager in the United States--the last mentioned had not prepaid the -postage, he lamented. - -He was a fearful joy to cherish; but Mrs. Lampson listened to his -egotism at lunch, and tried to prevent her other guests from listening -to him. - -They would not understand him, she thought, and she did not make a -mistake in this matter. - -She got rid of him as soon as possible, and once more breathed freely. -He had not disgraced her--that was so much in his favour. The same could -not always be said of her discoveries. - -The Christian Dynamitard was, people said, the only gentleman who had -ever been introduced ta society by Mrs. Lampson. - -When Harold found his sister alone, he explained to her that it would -be impossible for him to join her party at Abbeylands--Mr. Lampson's -Bracken-shire place--and his sister laughed and said she supposed that -he had something better on his hands. He assured her that he had nothing -better, only-- - -"There, there," said she, "I don't want you to invent an excuse. You -would only have met people whom you know." - -"Of course," said Harold, "you're not foolish enough to ask your -discoveries down to shoot pheasants. I should like to see some of -them in a _battue_ with my best enemies. Yes, I'd hire a window, with -pleasure." - -"Didn't he behave well--the Coming Dramatist?" said she, earnestly. "You -cannot say he didn't behave well--at least for a Coming Person." - -"He behaved--wonderfully," said Harold. "Good-bye." - -She followed him to the door of the room--nay, outside. - -"By the bye," said she, in a whisper; "do you know anything of a Miss -Avon?" - -"Miss Avon?" said Harold. "Miss Avon. Why, if she is the daughter of -Julius Anthony Avon, the historian, we met her at Castle Innisfail. Why -do you ask me, Ella?" - -"It is so funny," said she. "Yesterday Mr. Airey called upon me, and -before he left he begged of me to call upon her, and even hinted--he has -got infinite tact--that she would make a charming addition to our party -at Abbeylands." - -"Ah," said Harold. - -"And just now papa has been whispering to me about this same Miss Avon. -He commanded me--papa has no tact--to invite her to join us for a week. -I wonder what that means." - -"What what means?" - -"That--Mr. Airey and papa." - -"Great Heaven! Ella, what should it mean, except that two men, for whom -we have had a nominal respect, have gone over to the majority of fools?" - -"Oh, is that all? I was afraid that--ah, good-bye." - -"Good-bye." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI.--ON THE INFLUENCE OF A MAN OF THE WORLD. - -It was true then--what he had surmised was true! Edmund Airey had shown -himself to be actuated by a stronger impulse than a desire to assist -Helen Craven to realize her hopes--so much appeared perfectly plain to -Harold Wynne, as he strolled back to his rooms. - -He was now convinced that Edmund Airey was serious in his attitude in -respect of Beatrice. At Castle Innisfail he had been ready enough to -play the game with counters, on his side at least, as stakes, but now he -meant to play a serious game. - -Harold recalled what proofs he had already received, to justify his -arriving at this conclusion, and he felt that they were ample--he felt -that this conclusion was the only one possible to be arrived at by -anyone acquainted with all that had come under his notice. - -He was quite astounded to hear from his sister that Edmund Airey had -taken so extreme a step as to beg of her to call upon Beatrice, -and invite her to join the Abbeylands party. Whether or not he had -approached Mrs. Lampson in confidence on this matter, the fact of his -having approached her was, in some degree, compromising to himself, and -no one was better aware of this fact than Edmund Airey. He was not an -eager boy to give way to a passion without counting the cost. There was -no more subtle calculator of costs than Edmund Airey, and Harold knew -it. - -What, then, was left for Harold to infer? - -Nothing, except what he had already inferred. - -What then was left for him to do to checkmate the man who was menacing -him? - -He had lived so long in that world, the centre of which is situated -somewhere about Park Lane, and he had come to believe so thoroughly that -the leading characteristic of this world is worldliness, that he had -lost the capacity to trust anyone implicitly. He was unable to bring -himself to risk everything upon the chance of Beatrice's loving him, in -the face of the worst that might occur. - -Thus it was that the little feeling of distrust which he experienced the -previous day remained with him. It did not increase, but it was there. -Now and again he could feel its cold finger upon his heart, and he knew -that it was there. - -He could not love with that blind, unreasoning, uncalculating love--that -love which knows only heaven and hell, not earth. That perfect love, -which casteth out distrust, was not the love of his world. - -And thus it was that he walked to his rooms, thinking by what means -he could bind that girl to him, so that she should be bound beyond the -possibility of chance, or craft, or worldliness coming between them. - -He had not arrived at any satisfactory conclusion on this subject when -he reached his rooms. - -He was surprised to find waiting for him Mr. Playdell, but he greeted -the man cordially--he had acquired a liking for him, for he perceived -that, with all his eccentricities--all his crude theories that he tried -to vivify by calling them principles, he was still acting faithfully -toward Archie Brown, and was preventing him from squandering hundreds of -pounds where Archie might have squandered thousands. - -"You are naturally surprised to see me, Mr. Wynne," said Playdell. "I -dare say that most men would think that I had taken a liberty in making -an uninvited call like this." - -"I, at any rate, think nothing of the sort, Mr. Playdell," said Harold. - -"I am certain that you do not," said Mr. Play-dell. "I am certain that -you are capable of doing me justice--yes, on some points." - -"I hope that I am, Mr. Playdell." - -"I know that you are, Mr. Wynne. You are not one of those silly persons, -wise in their own conceit, who wink at one another when my name is -mentioned, and suggest that the unfrocked priest is making a very fair -thing out of his young patron." - -"I believe that your influence over him is wholly for good, Mr. -Playdell. If he were to allow you the income of a Bishop instead of -that of a Dean I believe that he would still save money--a great deal of -money--by having you near him." - -"And you are in no way astray, Mr. Wynne. I was prepared for what people -would say when I accepted the situation that Archie offered me, but the -only stipulation that I made was that my accounts were to be audited by -a professional man, and monthly. Thus it is that I protect myself. Every -penny that I receive is accounted for." - -"That is a very wise plan, Mr. Playdell, but--" - -"But it has nothing to do with my coming here to-day? That is what you -are too polite to say. You are right, Mr. Wynne. I have not come here to -talk about myself and my systems, but about our friend Archie. You have -great influence over him." - -"I'm afraid I haven't much. If I had, I wouldn't hesitate to tell him -that he is making an ass of himself." - -"You have come to the point at once, Mr. Wynne." - -Mr. Playdell had risen from his chair and was walking up and down the -room with his head bent. Now he stood opposite to Harold. - -"The point?" said Harold. - -"The point is that he is being robbed right and left through the medium -of the Legitimate Theatre, and a stop must be put to it," said Playdell. - -"And you think that I should make the attempt to put a stop to this -foolishness of his? My dear Mr. Playdell, if I were to suggest to Archie -that he is making an ass of himself over this particular matter, I -should never have another chance of exercising my influence over him for -good or bad. I have always known that Mrs. Mowbray is one of the most -expensive tastes in England. But when the beauty of Mrs. Mowbray is -to be exploited with the beauty of the poetry of Shakespeare, and when -these gems are enclosed in so elaborate a setting as the Legitimate -Theatre--well, I suppose Archie's millions will hold out. There's a deal -of spending in three millions, Mr. Playdell." - -"His millions will hold out," said Mr. Playdell. "And so will he," -laughed Harold. "I have known Mrs. Mowbray for several years, and she -has never ruined any man except her husband, and he is not worth talking -about. She has always liked young men with wealth so enormous that even -her powers of spending money can make no impression on it." - -"Mr. Wynne, you can have no notion what that theatre has cost -Archie--what it is daily costing him. Eight hundred pounds a week -wouldn't cover the net loss of that ridiculous business--that trailing -of Shakespeare in the mire, to gratify the vanity of a woman. I know -what men are when they are very young. If I were to talk to Archie -seriously on this subject, he would laugh at me; if he did not, he would -throw something at me. The result would be _nil_." - -"Unless he was a good shot with a casual missile." - -"Mr. Wynne, he would not listen to me; but he would listen to you--I -know that he would. You could talk to him with all the authority of a -man of the world--a man in Society." - -"Mr. Playdell," said Harold, shaking his head, "if there's no fool like -the old fool, there's no ass like the young ass. Now, I can assure you, -on the authority of a man of the world--you know what such an authority -is worth--that to try and detach Archie from his theatre nonsense just -now by means of a lecture, would be as impossible as to detach a limpet -from a rock by a sermon on--let us say--the flexibility of the marriage -bond." - -"Alas! alas!" said Mr. Playdell. - -"The only way that Archie can be induced to throw over Mrs. Mowbray and -Shakespeare and suchlike follies, is by inducing him to form a stronger -attachment elsewhere." - -"The last state of that man might be worse than the first, Mr. Wynne." - -"Might--yes, it might be, but that is no reason why it should be. The -young ass takes to thistles, because it has never known the enjoyment of -a legitimate pasture." - -"The legitimate pasture is some distance away from the Legitimate -Theatre, Mr. Wynne." - -"I agree with you. Now, the thought has just occurred to me that I might -get Archie brought among decent people, for the first time in his life. -My sister, Mrs. Lampson, is having a party down at her husband's place -in Brackenshire, for the pheasant-shooting. Why shouldn't Archie be one -of the party? There are a number of decent men going, and decent women -also. None of the men will try to get the better of him." - -"And the women will not try to make a fool of him?" - -"I won't promise that--the world can't cease to revolve on its axis -because Archie Brown has a tendency to giddiness." - -Mr. Playdell was grave. Then he said, thoughtfully, "Whatever the women -may be, they can't be of the stamp of Mrs. Mowbray." - -"You may trust my sister for that. You may also trust her to see that -they are less beautiful than Mrs. Mowbray," remarked Harold. - -Mr. Playdell pondered. - -"Pheasant-shooting is expensive in its way," said he. "The preservation -of grouse runs away with a good deal of money also, I am told. Race -horses, it is generally understood, entail considerable outlay. Put -them all together, and you only come within measurable distance of -Mrs. Mowbray and Shakespeare as a pastime--with nothing to show for the -money--absolutely nothing to show for the money." - -"Except Mrs. Mowbray and Shakespeare." - -"Mr. Wynne, I believe that your kind suggestion may be the saving of -that lad," said Playdell. - -"Oh, it's the merest chance," said Harold. "He may grow sick of the -whole business after the first _battue_." - -"He won't. I've known men saved from destruction by scoring a century in -a first-class cricket match: they gave themselves up to cricket, to the -exclusion of other games less healthy. If Archie takes kindly to the -pheasants, he may make up his mind to buy a place and preserve them. -That will be a healthy occupation for him. You will give him to -understand that it's the proper thing to do, Mr. Wynne." - -"You may depend upon me. I'll write to my sister to invite him. It's -only an experiment." - -"It will succeed, Mr. Wynne--it will succeed, I feel that it will. If -you only knew, as I do, how he is being fooled, you would understand my -earnestness--you have long ago forgiven my intrusion. Give me a chance -of serving you in return, Mr. Wynne. That's all I ask." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII.--ON THE DEFECTIVE LINK. - -HAROLD had a note written to Mrs. Lampson, begging her to invite his -friend, Mr. Archie Brown, to join her party at Abbeylands, almost before -Mr. Playdell had left the street. He knew that his sister would be very -glad to have Archie. All the world had a general notion of Archie's -millions; and Abbeylands was one of those immense houses that can -accommodate a practically unlimited number of guests. The property -had been bought from a nobleman, who had been brought to the verge of -bankruptcy by trying to maintain it. Mr. Lampson, a patriotic American, -had come to his relief, and had taken the place off his hands. - -That is what all truly patriotic Americans do when they have an -opportunity. - -The new-world democracy comes to the rescue of the old-world -aristocracy, and thus a venerable institution is preserved from -annihilation. - -Harold posted his letter as he went out to dine with a man who was a -member of the Carlton Club, and zealous in heating up recruits for the -Conservative party. He thought that Harold might possibly be open to -conviction, not, of course, on the question of the righteousness of -certain principles, but on the question of the direction in which the -cat was about to jump. The jumping cat is the dominant power in modern -politics. - -Harold ate his dinner, and listened patiently to the man whose -acquaintance with the tendencies of every genus of the political _felis_ -was supposed to be extraordinary. He said little. Before he had gone to -Castle Innisfail the subject would have interested him greatly, but now -he thought that Archie Brown's inanities were preferable to those of the -politician. - -He was just enough to acknowledge, however, that the cigar with which he -left the Carlton was as good a one as he had ever smoked. So that there -was some advantage in being a Conservative after all. - -He walked round St. James's Square, for the night was warm and fine. His -mind was not conscious of having received anything during the previous -two hours upon which it would be profitable to ponder. He thought over -the question which he had put to himself previously--the question of how -he could bind Beatrice to him--how he could make her certainly his own, -and thus banish that cold distrust of which he now and again became -aware--no, it was not exactly distrust, it was only a slightly defective -link in the chain of complete trust. - -She loved him and she promised to love him. He reflected upon this, and -he asked himself what more could he want. What bond stronger than her -word could he desire to have? - -"Oh, I will trust her for ever--for ever," he murmured. "If she is not -true, then there never was truth on earth." - -He fancied that he had dismissed the matter from his mind with this -exorcism. - -And so he had. - -But it so happens that some persons are so constituted that there is but -the slenderest connection between their mind and their heart. Something -that appeals very forcibly to their mind will not touch their heart in -the least. They are Nature's "sports." - -Harold Wynne was one of these people. He had made up his mind that, on -the question of implicitly trusting Beatrice, nothing more remained to -be said. There was still, however, that cold finger upon his heart. - -But having made up his mind that nothing more remained to be said on the -question, he was logical enough--for logic is also a mental attribute, -though by no means universally distributed--to think of other matters. - -He began to think about Mr. Playdell, and his zeal for the reform of -Archie. Harold's respect for Mr. Playdell had materially increased since -the morning. At first he had been inclined to look with suspicion upon -the man who had, by the machinery of the Church, been prohibited from -discharging the functions of a priest of that Church, though, of course, -he was free to exercise that unimportant function known as preaching. He -could not preach within a church, however. If he wished to try and save -souls by preaching, that was his own business. He would not do so with -the sanction of the Church. He was anxious to save the soul of Archie -Brown, at any rate. He assumed that Archie had a soul in embryo, ready -to be hatched, and it was clear to Harold that Mr. Playdell was anxious -to save it from being addled before it had pecked its way out of its -shell. Therefore Harold had a considerable respect for Mr. Playdell, -though he had been one of the unprofitable servants of the Church. - -He thought of the earnest words of the man--of the earnest way in which -he had begged to be given the chance of returning the service, which he -believed was about to be done to him by Harold. - -He had been greatly in earnest; but that fact only made his words the -more ridiculous. - -"What service could he possibly do me?" Harold thought, when he had -had his laugh, recalling the outstretched hand of Mr. Playdell, and his -eager eyes. "_What service could he possibly do me? What service?_" - -He was rooted to the pavement. The driver of a passing hansom pulled -up opposite him, taking the fact of his stopping so suddenly as an -indication that he wanted a hansom. - -He took no notice of the hansom, and it passed up the square. -He remained so long lost in thought, that his cigar, so strongly -impregnated with sound Conservative principles, went out like any -Radical weed, or the penny Pickwick of the Labour Processionist. - -He dropped the unsmoked end, and felt for his pocket-handkerchief. He -raised his hat and wiped his forehead. - -Then he took a stroll into Piccadilly and on to Knightsbridge. He went -down Sloane Street, and into Chelsea, returning by the Embankment to -Westminster--the clock was chiming the hour of 2 a.m. as he passed. - -But the same clock had struck three before he got into bed, and five -before he fell asleep. - - -END OF VOL. II. - - - - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's A Gray Eye or So, by Frank Frankfort Moore - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GRAY EYE OR SO *** - -***** This file should be named 51945-8.txt or 51945-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/9/4/51945/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -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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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: A Gray Eye or So - In Three Volumes--Volume II - -Author: Frank Frankfort Moore - -Release Date: May 2, 2016 [EBook #51945] -Last Updated: November 15, 2016 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GRAY EYE OR SO *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - -</pre> - - <div style="height: 8em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - A GRAY EYE OR SO - </h1> - <h2> - By Frank Frankfort Moore - </h2> - <h3> - In Three Volumes—Volume II - </h3> - <h4> - Sixth Edition - </h4> - <h4> - London, Hutchinson & Co., 34 Paternoster Row - </h4> - <h3> - 1893 - </h3> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0007.jpg" alt="0007 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0007.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p> - <b>CONTENTS</b> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>A GRAY EYE OR SO.</b> </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER XX.—ON AN OAK SETTEE. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER XXI.—ON THE ELEMENTS OF PARTY - POLITICS. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER XXII.—ON THE WISDOM OP THE MATRONS. - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER XXIII.—ON THE ATLANTIC. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER XXIV.—ON THE CHANCE. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER XXV.—ON THE SOCIAL VALUE OF THE - REPROBATE. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER XXVI.—ON FRANKNESS AND FRIENDSHIP. - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER XXVII.—ON CIRCUMVENTING A STAG. - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER XXVIII.—ON ENJOYING A RESPITE. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER XXIX.—ON THE ADVANTAGES OF READY - MONEY. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XXX.—ON THE LEGITIMATE IN ART. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XXXI.—ON A BLACK SHEEP. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XXXII.—ON SHAKESPEARE AND SUPPER. - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XXXIII.—ON BLESSING OR DOOM. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XXXIV.—ON THE MESSAGE OF THE LILY. - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XXXV.—ON THE HOME. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XXXVI.—ON THE INFLUENCE OF A MAN OF - THE WORLD. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XXXVII.—ON THE DEFECTIVE LINK. </a> - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - A GRAY EYE OR SO. - </h1> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XX.—ON AN OAK SETTEE. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>E was still - pondering over the many aspects of the question which, to his mind, needed - solution, when he returned to the Castle, to find Lord Fotheringay in a - chair by the side of a gaunt old man who, at one period of his life, had - probably been tall, but who was now stooped in a remarkable way. The - stranger seemed very old, so that beside him Lord Fotheringay looked - comparatively youthful. Of this fact no one was better aware than Lord - Fotheringay. - </p> - <p> - Edmund Airey had seen portraits of the new guest, and did not require to - be told that he was Julius Anthony Avon, the historian of certain periods. - </p> - <p> - The first thought that occurred to him when he saw the two men side by - side, was that Lord Fotheringay would not appear ridiculous merely as the - son-in-law of Mr. Avon. To the casual observer at any rate he might have - posed as the son of Mr. Avon. - </p> - <p> - He himself seemed to be under the impression that he might pass as Mr. - Avon’s grandson, for he was extremely sportive in his presence, - attitudinizing on his settee in a way that Edmund knew must have been - agonizing to his rheumatic joints. Edmund smiled. He felt that he was - watching the beginning of a comedy. - </p> - <p> - He learned that Mr. Avon had yielded to the persuasion of Lady Innisfail - and had consented to join his daughter at the Castle for a few days. He - was not fond of going into society; but it so happened that Castle - Innisfail had been the centre of an Irish conspiracy at the early part of - the century, and this fact made the acceptance by him of Lady Innisfail’s - invitation a matter of business. - </p> - <p> - Hearing the nature of the work at which he was engaged, Lord Fotheringay - had lost no time in expounding to him, in that airy style which he had at - his command, the various mistakes that had been made by several - generations of statesmen in dealing with the Irish question. The - fundamental error which they had all committed was taking the Irish and - their rebellions and conspiracies too seriously. - </p> - <p> - This theory he expounded to the man who was writing a biographical - dictionary of Irish informers, and was about to publish his seventh - volume, concluding the letter B. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Avon listened, gaunt and grim, while Lord Fotheringay gracefully waved - away statesman after statesman who had failed signally, by reason of - taking Ireland and the Irish seriously. - </p> - <p> - There was something grim also in Edmund Airey’s smile as he glanced at - this beginning of the comedy. - </p> - <p> - That night Miss Stafford added originality to the ordinary terrors of her - recital. She explained that hitherto she had merely interpreted the verses - of others: now, however, she would draw upon her store of original poems. - </p> - <p> - Of course, Edmund Airey was outside the drawingroom while this was going - on. So were many of his fellow-guests, including Helen Craven. Edmund - found her beside him in a secluded part of the hall. He was rather - startled by her sudden appearance. He forgot to greet her with one of the - clever things that he reserved for her and other appreciative young women—for - he still found a few, as any man with a large income may, if he only keeps - his eyes open. “What a fool you must think me,” were the words with which - Miss Craven greeted him, so soon as he became aware of her presence. - </p> - <p> - Strange to say, he had a definite idea that she had said something clever—at - any rate something that impressed him more strongly than ever with the - idea that she was a clever girl. - </p> - <p> - And yet she had assumed that he must think her a fool. - </p> - <p> - “A fool?” said he, “To think you so would be to write myself down one, - Miss Craven.” - </p> - <p> - “Mr Airey,” said she, “I am a woman. Long ago I was a girl. You will thus - believe me when I tell you that I never was frank in all my life. I want - to begin now.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, now I know the drift of your remark,” said he. “A fool. Yes, you made - a good beginning: but supposing that I were to be frank, where would you - be then?” - </p> - <p> - “I want you to begin also, Mr Airey,” said she. - </p> - <p> - “To begin? Oh, I made my start years ago—when I entered Parliament,” - said he. “I was perfectly frank with the Opposition when I pointed out - their mistakes. I have never yet been frank with a friend, however. That - is why I still have a few left.” - </p> - <p> - “You must be frank with me now; if you won’t it doesn’t matter: I’ll be so - to you. I admit that I behaved like an idiot; but you were responsible for - it—yes, largely.” - </p> - <p> - “That is a capital beginning. Now tell me what you have done or left - undone—above all, tell me where my responsibility comes in.” - </p> - <p> - “You like Harold Wynne?” - </p> - <p> - “You suggest that a mere liking involves a certain responsibility?” - </p> - <p> - “I love him.” - </p> - <p> - “Great heavens!” - </p> - <p> - “Why should you be startled at the confession when you have been aware of - the fact for some time?” - </p> - <p> - “I never met a frank woman before. It is very terrible. Perhaps I shall - get used to it.” - </p> - <p> - “Why will you not drop that tone?” she said, almost piteously. “Cannot you - see how serious the thing is to me?” - </p> - <p> - “It is quite as serious to me,” he replied. “Men have confided in me—mostly - fools—a woman never. Pray do not continue in that strain.” - </p> - <p> - “Then find words for me—be frank.” - </p> - <p> - “I will. You mean to say, Miss Craven, that I think you a fool because, - acting on the hint which I somewhat vaguely, but really in good faith, - dropped, you tried to impersonate the figure of the legend at that - ridiculous cave. Is not that what you would say if you had the courage to - be thoroughly frank?” - </p> - <p> - “Thank you,” said she, in a still weaker voice. “It is not so easy being - frank all in a moment.” - </p> - <p> - “No, not if one has accustomed oneself to—let us say good manners,” - he added. - </p> - <p> - “When I started for the boats after you had all left for that nonsense at - the village, I felt certain that you were my friend as well as Harold - Wynne’s, and that you had good reason for believing that he would be about - the cave shortly after our hour of dining. I’m not very romantic.” - </p> - <p> - “Pardon me,” said he. “You are not quite frank. If you were you would say - that, while secretly romantic, you follow the example of most young women - nowadays in ridiculing romance.” - </p> - <p> - “Quite right,” she said. “I admitted just now that I found it difficult to - be frank all in a moment. Anyhow I believed that if I were to play the - part of the Wraith of the Cave within sight of Harold Wynne, he might—oh, - how could I have been such a fool? But you—you, I say, were largely - responsible for it, Mr. Airey.” She was now speaking not merely - reproachfully but fiercely. “Why should you drop those hints—they - were much more than hints—about his being so deeply impressed with - the romance—about his having gone to the cave on the previous - evening, if you did not mean me to act upon them?” - </p> - <p> - “I did mean you to act upon them,” said he. “I meant that you and he - should come together last night, and I know that if you had come together, - he would have asked you to marry him. I meant all that, because I like him - and I like you too—yes, in spite of your frankness.” - </p> - <p> - “Thank you,” said she, giving him her hand. “You forgive me for being - angry just now?” - </p> - <p> - “The woman who is angry with a man without cause pays him the greatest - compliment in her power,” he remarked. “Fate was against us.” - </p> - <p> - “You think that she is so very—very pretty?” said Miss Craven. - </p> - <p> - “She?—fate?—I’ll tell you what I think. I think that Harold - Wynne has met with the greatest misfortune of his life.” - </p> - <p> - “If you believe that, I know that I have met with the greatest of my - life.” - </p> - <p> - The corner of the hall was almost wholly in shadow. The settee upon which - Mr. Airey and Miss Craven were sitting, was cut off from the rest of the - place by the thigh hone of the great skeleton elk. Between the ribs of the - creature, however, some rays of light passed from one of the lamps; and, - as Mr. Airey looked sympathetically into the face of his companion, he saw - the gleam of a tear upon her cheek. - </p> - <p> - He was deeply impressed—so deeply that some moments had passed - before he found himself wondering what she would say next. For a moment he - forgot to be on his guard, though if anyone had described the details of a - similar scene to him, he would probably have smiled while remarking that - when the lamplight gleams upon a tear upon the cheek of a young woman of - large experience, is just when a man needs most to be on his guard, He - felt in another moment, however, that something was coming. - </p> - <p> - He waited for it in silence. - </p> - <p> - It seemed to him in that pause that he was seated by the side of someone - whom he had never met before. The girl who was beside him seemed to have - nothing in common with Helen Craven. So greatly does a young woman change - when she becomes frank. - </p> - <p> - This is why so many husbands declare—when they are also frank—that - the young women whom they marry are in every respect different from the - young women who promise to be their wives. - </p> - <p> - “What is going to happen?” Helen asked him in a steady voice. - </p> - <p> - “God knows,” said he. - </p> - <p> - “I saw them together just after they left you this morning,” said she. “I - was at one of the windows of the Castle, they were far along the terrace; - but I’m sure that he said something to her about her eyes.” - </p> - <p> - “I should not be surprised if he did,” said Edmund. “Her eyes invite - comment.” - </p> - <p> - “I believe that in spite of her eyes she is much the same as any other - girl.” - </p> - <p> - “Is that to the point?” he asked. He was a trifle disappointed in her last - sentence. It seemed to show him that, whatever Beatrice might be, Helen - was much the same as other girls. - </p> - <p> - “It is very much to the point,” said she. “If she is like other girls she - will hesitate before marrying a penniless man.” - </p> - <p> - “I agree with you,” said he. “But if she is like other girls she will not - hesitate to love a penniless man.” - </p> - <p> - “Possibly—if, like me, she can afford to do so. But I happen to know - that she cannot afford it. This brings me up to what has been on my mind - all day. You are, I know, my friend; you are Harold Wynne’s also. Now, if - you want to enable him to gratify his reasonable ambition—if you - want to make him happy—to make me happy—you will prevent him - from ever asking Beatrice Avon to marry him.” - </p> - <p> - “And I am prepared to do so much for him—for you—for her. But - how can I do it?” - </p> - <p> - “You can take her away from him. You know how such things are done. You - know that if a distinguished man such as you are, with a large income such - as you possess, gives a girl to understand that he is, let us say, greatly - interested in her, she will soon cease to be interested in any - undistinguished and penniless son of a reprobate peer who may be before - her eyes.” - </p> - <p> - “I have seen such a social phenomenon,” said he. “Does your proposition - suggest that I should marry the young woman with ‘a gray eye or so’?” - </p> - <p> - “You may marry her if you please—that’s entirely a matter for - yourself. I don’t see any need for you to go that length. Have I not kept - my promise to be frank?” - </p> - <p> - “You have,” said he. - </p> - <p> - She had risen from the settee. She laid her hand on one of his that rested - on a projection of the old oak carving, and in another instant she was - laughing in front of Norah Innisfail, who was rendered even more proper - than usual through having become acquainted with Miss Stafford’s notions - of originality in verse-making. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXI.—ON THE ELEMENTS OF PARTY POLITICS. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>R. AIREY was - actually startled by the suggestion which Miss Craven had made with, on - the whole, considerable tact as well as inconceivable frankness. - </p> - <p> - He had been considering all the afternoon the possibility of carrying out - the idea which it seemed Helen Craven had on her mind as well; but it had - never occurred to him that his purpose might be achieved through the means - suggested by the young woman who had just gone from his side. - </p> - <p> - His first impression was that the proposal made to him was the cruellest - that had ever come from one girl in respect of another girl. He had never - previously had an idea that a girl could be so heartless as to make such a - suggestion as that which had come from Helen Craven; but in the course of - a short space of time, he found it expedient to revise his first judgment - on this matter. Helen Craven meant to marry Harold—so much could - scarcely be doubted—and her marrying him would be the best thing - that could happen to him. She was anxious to prevent his marrying Miss - Avon; and surely this was a laudable aim, considering that marrying Miss - Avon would be the worst thing that could happen to him—and to Miss - Avon as well. - </p> - <p> - It might possibly be regarded as cruel by some third censors for Miss - Craven to suggest that he, Edmund, after leading the other girl to believe - that he was desirous of marrying her—or at least to believe that she - might have a chance of marrying him—might stop short. To be sure, - Miss Craven had not, with all her frankness, said that her idea was that - he should refrain from asking the other girl to marry him, but only that - the question was one that concerned himself alone. - </p> - <p> - He thought over this point for some time, and the conclusion he came to - was that, after all, whether or not the cynical indifference of the - suggestion amounted to absolute cruelty, the question concerned himself - alone. Even if he were not to ask her to marry him after leading her to - suppose that he intended doing so, he would at any rate have prevented her - from the misery of marrying Harold; and that was something for which she - might be thankful to him. He would also have saved her from the - degradation of receiving a proposal of marriage from Lord Fotheringay; and - that was also something for which she might be thankful to him. - </p> - <p> - Being a strictly party politician, he regarded expediency as the greatest - of all considerations. He was not devoid of certain scruples now and - again; but he was capable of weighing the probable advantages of yielding - to these scruples against the certain advantages of—well, of - throwing them to the winds. - </p> - <p> - For some minutes after Helen Craven had left him he subjected his scruples - to the balancing process, and the result was that he found they were as - nothing compared with the expediency of proceeding as Helen had told him - that it was advisable for him to proceed. - </p> - <p> - He made up his mind that he would save the girl—that was how he put - it to himself—and he would take extremely good care that he saved - himself as well. Marriage would not suit him. Of this he was certain. - People around him were beginning to be certain of it also. The mothers in - Philistia had practically come to regard him as a <i>quantité négligeable</i>. - The young women did not trouble themselves about him, after a while. It - would not suit him to marry a young woman with lustrous eyes, he said to - himself as he left his settee; but it would suit him to defeat the - machinations of Lord Fotheringay, and to induce his friend Harold Wynne to - pursue a sensible course. - </p> - <p> - He found himself by the side of Beatrice Avon before five minutes had - passed, and he kept her thoroughly amused for close upon an hour—he - kept her altogether to himself also, though many chances of leaving his - side were afforded the girl by considerate youths, and by one smiling - person who had passed the first bloom of youth and had reached that which - is applied by the cautious hare’s foot in the hand of a valet. - </p> - <p> - Before the hour of brandy-and-sodas and resplendent smoking-jackets had - come, the fact of his having kept Beatrice Avon so long entertained had - attracted some attention. - </p> - <p> - It had attracted the attention of Miss Craven, who commented upon it with - a confidential smile at Harold. It attracted the attention of Harold’s - father, who commented upon it with a leer and a sneer. It attracted the - attention of Lady Innisfail, who commented upon it with a smile that - caused the dainty dimple in her chin to assume the shape of the dot in a - well-made note of interrogation. - </p> - <p> - It also attracted the attention of quite a number of other persons, but - they reserved their comments, which was a wise thing for them to do. - </p> - <p> - As she said good-night to him, she seemed, Edmund Airey thought, to be a - trifle fascinated as well as fascinating. He felt that he had had a - delightful hour—it was far more delightful than the half hour which - he had passed on the settee at the rear of the skeleton elk. - </p> - <p> - His feeling in this matter simply meant that it was far more agreeable to - him to see a young woman admiring his cleverness than it was to admire the - cleverness of another young woman. - </p> - <p> - He enjoyed his smoke by the side of the judge; for when a man is absorbed - in the thoughts of his own cleverness he can still get a considerable - amount of passive enjoyment out of the story of How the Odds fell from - Thirteen to Five to Six to Four against Porcupine for some prehistoric - Grand National. - </p> - <p> - Harold Wynne now and again glanced across the hall at the man who - professed to be his best friend. He could perceive without much trouble - that Edmund Airey was particularly well pleased with himself. - </p> - <p> - This meant, he thought, that Edmund had been particularly well pleased - with Beatrice Avon. - </p> - <p> - Lord Fotheringay was too deeply absorbed in giving point to a story, - founded upon personal experience, which he was telling to his host, to - give a moment’s attention to Edmund Airey, or to make an attempt to - interpret his aspect. - </p> - <p> - It was only when his valet was putting him carefully to bed—he - required very careful handling—that he recollected the effective way - in which Airey had snubbed him, when he had made an honest attempt to - reach Miss Avon conversationally. - </p> - <p> - He now found time to wonder what Airey meant by preventing the girl from - being entertained—Lord Fotheringay assumed, as a matter of course, - that the girl had not been entertained—all the evening. He had no - head, however, for considering such a question in all its aspects. He only - resolved that in future he would take precious good care that when there - was any snubbing in the air, he would be the dispenser of it, not the - recipient. - </p> - <p> - Lord Fotheringay was not a man of genius, but upon occasions he could be - quite as disagreeable as if he were. He had studied the art of - administering snubs, and though he had never quite succeeded in snubbing a - member of Parliament of the same standing as Mr. Airey, yet he felt quite - equal to the duty, should he find it necessary to make an effort in this - direction. - </p> - <p> - He was sleeping the sleep of the reprobate, long before his son had - succeeded in sleeping the sleep of the virtuous. Harold had more to think - about, as well as more capacity of thinking, than his father. He was - puzzled at the attitude of his friend and counsellor, Edmund Airey. What - on earth could he have meant by appropriating Beatrice Avon, Harold - wondered. He assumed that Airey had some object in doing what he had done. - He knew that his friend was not the man to do anything without having an - object in view. Previously he had been discreet to an extraordinary degree - in his attitude toward women. He had never even made love to those matrons - to whom it is discreet to make love. If he had ever done so Harold knew - that he would have heard of it; for there is no fascination in making love - to other men’s wives, unless it is well known in the world that you are - doing so. The school-boy does not smoke his cigarette in private. The - fascination of the sin lies in his committing it so that it gets talked - about. - </p> - <p> - Yes, Airey had ever been discreet, Harold knew, and he quite failed to - account for his lapse—assuming that it was indiscreet to appropriate - Beatrice Avon for an hour, and to keep her amused all that time. - </p> - <p> - Harold himself had his own ideas of what was discreet in regard to young - women, and he had acted up to them. He did not consider that, so far as - the majority of young women were concerned, he should be accredited with - much self-sacrifice for his discretion. - </p> - <p> - Had a great temperance movement been set on foot in Italy in the days of - Cæsar Borgia, the total abstainers would not have earned commendation for - their self-sacrifice. Harold Wynne had been discreet in regard to most - women simply because he was afraid of them. He was afraid that he might - some day be led to ask one of them to marry him—one of them whom he - would regard as worse than a Borgia poison ever after. - </p> - <p> - The caution that he had displayed in respect of Helen Craven showed how - discreet he had accustomed himself to be. - </p> - <p> - He reflected, however, that in respect of Beatrice Avon he had thrown - discretion to the winds From the moment that he had drawn her hands to his - by the fishing line, he had given himself up to her. He had been without - the power to resist. - </p> - <p> - Might it not, then, be the same with Edmund Airey? Might not Edmund, who - had invariably been so guarded as to be wholly free from reproach so far - as women were concerned, have found it impossible to maintain that - attitude in the presence of Beatrice? - </p> - <p> - And if this was so, what would be the result? - </p> - <p> - This was the thought which kept Harold Wynne awake and uncomfortable for - several hours during that night. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXII.—ON THE WISDOM OP THE MATRONS. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">L</span>ADY INNISFAIL made - a confession to one of her guests—a certain Mrs. Burgoyne—who - was always delighted to play the <i>rôle</i> of receiver of confessions. - The date at which Lady Innisfail’s confession was made was three days - after the arrival of Beatrice Avon at the Castle, and its subject was her - own over-eagerness to secure a strange face for the entertainment of her - guests. - </p> - <p> - “I thought that the romantic charm which would attach to that girl, who - seemed to float up to us out of the mist—leaving her wonderful eyes - out of the question altogether—would interest all my guests,” said - she. - </p> - <p> - “And so it did, if I may speak for the guests,” said Mrs. Burgoyne. “Yes, - we were all delighted for nearly an entire day.” - </p> - <p> - “I am glad that my aims were not wholly frustrated,” said Lady Innisfail. - “But you see the condition we are all in at present.” - </p> - <p> - “I cannot deny it,” replied Mrs. Burgoyne, with a sigh. “My dear, a new - face is almost as fascinating as a new religion.” - </p> - <p> - “More so to some people—generally men,” said Lady Innisfail. “But - who could have imagined that a young thing like that—she has never - been presented, she tells me—should turn us all topsy turvy?” - </p> - <p> - “She has a good deal in her favour,” remarked Mrs. Burgoyne. “She is - fresh, her face is strange, she neither plays, sings, nor recites, and she - is a marvellously patient listener.” - </p> - <p> - “That last comes through being the daughter of a literary man,” said Lady - Innisfail. “The wives and daughters of poets and historians and the like - are compelled to be patient listeners. They are allowed to do nothing - else.” - </p> - <p> - “I dare say. Anyhow that girl has made the most of her time since she came - among us.” - </p> - <p> - “She has. The worst of it is that no one could call her a flirt.” - </p> - <p> - “I suppose not. But what do you call a girl who is attractive to all men, - and who makes all the men grumpy, except the one she is talking to?” - </p> - <p> - “I call her a—a clever girl,” replied Lady Innisfail. “Don’t we all - aim at that sort of thing?” - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps we did—once,” said Mrs. Burgoyne, who was a year or two - younger than her hostess. “I should hope that our aims are different now. - We are too old, are we not?—you and I—for any man to insult us - by making love to us.” - </p> - <p> - “A woman is never too old to be insulted, thank God,” said Lady Innisfail; - and Mrs. Burgoyne’s laugh was not the laugh of a matron who is shocked. - </p> - <p> - “All the same,” added Lady Innisfail, “our pleasant party threatens to - become a fiasco, simply because I was over-anxious to annex a new face. I - had set my heart upon bringing Harold Wynne and Helen Craven together; but - now they have become hopelessly good friends.” - </p> - <p> - “She is very kind to him.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, that’s the worst of it; she is kind and he is indifferent—he - treats her as if she were his favourite sister.” - </p> - <p> - “Are matters so bad as that?” - </p> - <p> - “Quite. But when the other girl is listening to what another man is saying - to her, Harold Wynne’s face is a study. He is as clearly in love with the - other girl as anything can be. That, old reprobate—his father—has - his aims too—horrid old creature! Mr. Durdan has ceased to study the - Irish question with a deep-sea cast of hooks in his hand: he spends some - hours every morning devising plans for spending as many minutes by the - side of Beatrice. I do believe that my dear husband would have fallen a - victim too, if I did not keep dinning into his ears that Beatrice is the - loveliest creature of our acquaintance. I lured him on to deny it, and now - we quarrel about it every night.” - </p> - <p> - “I believe Lord Innisfail rather dislikes her,” said Mrs. Burgoyne. - </p> - <p> - “I’m convinced of it,” said Lady Innisfail. “But what annoys me most is - the attitude of Mr. Airey. He professed to be Harold’s friend as well as - Helen’s, and yet he insists on being so much with Beatrice that Harold - will certainly be led on to the love-making point—” - </p> - <p> - “If he has not passed it already,” suggested Mrs. Burgoyne. - </p> - <p> - “If he has not passed it already; for I need scarcely tell you, my dear - Phil, that a man does not make love to a girl for herself alone, but - simply because other men make love to her.” - </p> - <p> - “Of course.” - </p> - <p> - “So that it is only natural that Harold should want to make love to - Beatrice when he is led to believe that Edmund Airey wants to marry her.” - </p> - <p> - “The young fool! Why could he not restrain his desire until Mr. Airey has - married her? But do you really think that Mr. Airey does want to marry - her?” - </p> - <p> - “I believe that Harold Wynne believes so—that is enough for the - present. Oh, no. You’ll not find me quite so anxious to annex a strange - face another time.” - </p> - <p> - From the report of this confidential duologue it may possibly be - perceived, first, that Lady Innisfail was a much better judge of the - motives and impulses of men than Miss Craven was; and, secondly, that the - presence of Beatrice at the Castle had produced a marked impression upon - the company beneath its roof. - </p> - <p> - It was on the evening of the day after the confidential duologue just - reported that there was an entertainment in the hall of the Castle. It - took the form of <i>tableaux</i> arranged after well-known pictures, and - there was certainly no lack of actors and actresses for the figures. - </p> - <p> - Mary Queen of Scots was, of course, led to execution, and Marie - Antoinette, equally as a matter of course, appeared in her prison. Then - Miss Stafford did her best to realize the rapt young woman in Mr. Sant’s - “The Soul’s Awaking”—Miss Stafford was very wide awake indeed, some - scoffer suggested; and Miss Innisfail looked extremely pretty—a - hostess’s daughter invariably looks pretty—as “The Peacemaker” in - Mr. Marcus Stone’s picture. - </p> - <p> - Beatrice Avon took no part in the <i>tableaux</i>—the other girls - had not absolutely insisted on her appearing beside them on the stage that - had been fitted up; they had an+ informal council together, Miss Craven - being stage-manager, and they had come to the conclusion that they could - get along very nicely without her assistance. - </p> - <p> - Some of them said that Beatrice preferred flirting with the men. However - this may have been, the fact remained that Harold, when he had washed the - paint off his face—he had been the ill-tempered lover, Miss Craven - being the young woman with whom he was supposed to have quarrelled, - requiring the interposition of a sweet Peacemaker in the person of Miss - Innisfail—went round by a corridor to the back of the hall, and - stood for a few minutes behind a ‘portiere that took the place of a door - at one of the entrances. The hall was, of course, dimly lighted to make - the contrast with the stage the greater, so that he could not see the - features of the man who was sitting on the chair at the end of the row - nearest the <i>portiere</i>; but the applause that greeted a reproduction - of the picture of a monk shaving himself, having previously used no other - soap than was supplied by a particular maker, had scarcely died away - before Harold heard the voice of Edmund Airey say, in a low and earnest - tone, to someone who was seated beside him, “I do hope that before you go - away, you will let me know where you will next pitch your tent. I don’t - want to lose sight of you.” - </p> - <p> - “If you wish I shall let you know when I learn it from my father,” was the - reply that Harold heard, clearly spoken in the voice of Beatrice Avon. - </p> - <p> - Harold went back into the billowy folds of the tapestry curtain, and then - into the corridor. The words that he had overheard had startled him. Not - merely were the words spoken by Edmund Airey the same as he himself had - employed a few days before to Beatrice, but her reply was practically the - same as the reply which she had made to him. - </p> - <p> - When the last of the figurantes had disappeared from the stage, and when - the buzz of congratulations was sounding through the hall, now fully - lighted, Harold was nowhere to be seen. - </p> - <p> - Only a few of the most earnest of the smokers were still in the hall when, - long past midnight, he appeared at the door leading to the outer hall or - porch. His shoes were muddy and his shirt front was pulpy, for the night - was a wet one. - </p> - <p> - He explained to his astonished friends that it was invariably the case - that putting paint and other auxiliaries to “making up” on his face, - brought on a headache, which he had learned by experience could only be - banished by a long walk in the open air. - </p> - <p> - Well, he had just had such a walk. - </p> - <p> - He did not expect that his explanation would carry any weight with it; and - the way he was looked at by his friends made him aware of the fact that, - in giving them credit for more sense than to believe him, he was doing - them no more than the merest justice. - </p> - <p> - No one who was present on his return placed the smallest amount of - credence in his story. What many of them did believe was of no - consequence. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXIII.—ON THE ATLANTIC. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE boats were - scattered like milestones—as was stated by Brian—through the - sinuous length of Lough Suangorm. The cutter yacht <i>Acushla</i> was - leading the fleet out to the Atlantic, with two reefs in her mainsail, and - although she towed a large punt, and was by no means a fast boat, she had - no difficulty in maintaining her place, the fact being that the half-dozen - boats that lumbered after her were mainly fishing craft hailing from the - village of Cairndhu, and, as all the world knows, these are not built for - speed but endurance. They are half-decked and each carries a lug sail. One - of the legends of the coast is that when a lug sail is new its colour is - brown, and as a new sail is never seen at Cairndhu there are no means of - finding out if the story is true or false. The sails, as they exist, are - kaleidoscopic in their patchwork. It is understood that anything will - serve as a patch for a lug sail. Sometimes the centre-piece of an old coat - has been used for this purpose; but if so, it is only fair to state that - it is on record that the centre-piece of an old sail has been shaped into - a jacket for the ordinary wearing of a lad. - </p> - <p> - The lug sail may yet find its way into a drawing room in Belgravia and - repose side by side with the workhouse sheeting which occupies an honoured - place in that apartment. - </p> - <p> - On through the even waves that roll from between the headlands at the - entrance, to the little strand of pebbles at the end of the lough, the - boats lumbered. The sea and sky were equally gray, but now and again a - sudden gleam of sunshine would come from some unsuspected rift in the - motionless clouds, and fly along the crests of the waves, revealing a - green transparency for an instant, and then, flashing upon the sails, make - apparent every patch in their expanse, just as a flash of lightning on a - dark night reveals for a second every feature of a broad landscape. - </p> - <p> - As the first vessel of the little fleet, pursuing an almost direct course - in spite of the curving of the shores of the Irish fjord, approached one - coast and then the other, the great rocks that appeared snow-white, with - only a dab of black here and there, became suddenly all dark, and the air - was filled with what seemed like snow flakes. The cries of the innumerable - sea birds, that whirled about the disturbing boat before they settled and - the rocks became gradually white once more, had a remarkable effect when - heard against that monotonous background, so to speak, of rolling waves. - </p> - <p> - The narrow lough was a gigantic organ pipe through which the mighty bass - of the Atlantic roared everlastingly. - </p> - <p> - But when the headlands at the entrance were reached, the company who sat - on the weather side of the cutter <i>Acushla</i> became aware of a - commingling of sounds. The organ voice of the lough only filled up the - intervals between the tremendous roar of the lion-throated waves that - sprang with an appalling force half way up the black faces of the sheer - cliffs, and broke in mid-air. All day long and all night long those - inexhaustible billows come rushing upon that coast; and watching them and - listening to them one feels how mean are contemporary politics as well as - other things. - </p> - <p> - “That’s the Irish question,” remarked Lord Innisfail, who was steering his - own cutter. - </p> - <p> - He nodded in the direction of the waves that were clambering up the - headlands. What he meant exactly he might have had difficulty in - explaining. - </p> - <p> - “Very true, very true,” said Mr. Durdan, sagaciously, hoping to provoke - Mr. Airey to reply, and thinking it likely that he would learn from Mr. - Airey’s reply what was Lord Innisfail’s meaning. - </p> - <p> - But Mr. Airey, who had long ago become acquainted with Mr. Durdan’s - political methods, did not feel it incumbent on him to make the attempt to - grapple with the question—if it was a question—suggested by - Lord Innisfail. - </p> - <p> - The metaphor of a host should not, he knew, be considered too curiously. - Like the wit of a police-court magistrate, it should be accepted with - effusion. - </p> - <p> - “Stand by that foresheet,” said Lord Innisfail to one of the yacht’s - hands. “We’ll heave to until the other craft come up.” - </p> - <p> - In a few moments the cutter had all way off her, and was simply tumbling - about among the waves in a way that made some of the ship’s company hold - their breath and think longingly of pale brandy. - </p> - <p> - The cruise of the <i>Acushla</i> and the appearance of the fleet of boats - upon the lough were due to the untiring energy of Lady Innisfail and to - the fact that at last Brian, the boatman, had, by the help of Father Conn, - come to grasp something of the force of the phrase “local colour”. - </p> - <p> - Lady Innisfail was anxious that her guests should carry away certain - definite impressions of their sojourn at the Connaught castle beyond those - that may be acquired at any country-house, which everyone knows may be - comprised in a very few words. A big shoot, and an incipient scandal - usually constitute the record of a country-house entertainment. Now, it - was not that Lady Innisfail objected to a big shoot or an incipient - scandal—she admitted that both were excellent in their own way—but - she hoped to do a great deal better for her guests. She hoped to impart to - their visit some local colour. - </p> - <p> - She had hung on to the wake and the eviction, as has already been told, - with pertinacity. The <i>fête</i> which she believed was known to the - Irish peasantry as the Cruiskeen, had certainly some distinctive features; - though just as she fancied that the Banshee was within her grasp, it had - vanished into something substantial—this was the way she described - the scene on the cliffs. Although her guests said they were very well - satisfied with what they had seen and heard, adding that they had come to - the conclusion that if the Irish had only a touch of humour they would be - true to the pictures that had been drawn of them, still Lady Innisfail was - not satisfied. - </p> - <p> - Of course if Mr. Airey were to ask Miss Avon to marry him, her house-party - would be talked about during the winter. But she knew that it is the - marriages which do not come off that are talked about most; and, after - all, there is no local colour in marrying or giving in marriage, and she - yearned for local colour. Brian, after a time, came to understand - something of her ladyship’s yearnings. Like the priest and the other - inhabitants, he did not at first know what she wanted. - </p> - <p> - It is difficult to impress upon Fuzzy-wuzzy that he would be regarded as a - person of distinction in the Strand and as an idol in Belgravia. At his - home in the Soudan he is a very commonplace sort of person. So in the - region of Lough Suangorm, but a casual interest attaches to the caubeen, - which in Piccadilly would be followed by admiring crowds, and would - possibly be dealt with in Evening Editions. - </p> - <p> - But, as has just been said, Brian and his friends in due time came to - perceive the spectacular value to her ladyship’s guests of the most - commonplace things of the country; and it was this fact that induced Brian - to tell three stories of a very high colour to Mr. Airey and Mr. Wynne. - </p> - <p> - It was also his appreciation of her ladyship’s wants that caused him to - suggest to her the possibility of a seal-hunt constituting an element of - attraction—these were not the exact words employed by the boatman—to - some of her ladyship’s guests. - </p> - <p> - It is scarcely necessary to say that Lady Innisfail was delighted with the - suggestion. Some of her guests pretended that they also were delighted - with it, though all that the majority wanted was to be let alone. Still, - upon the afternoon appointed for the seal-hunt a considerable number of - the Castle party went aboard the yacht. Beatrice was one of the few girls - who were of the party. Helen would have dearly liked to go also; she would - certainly have gone if she had not upon one—only one—previous - occasion allowed herself to be persuaded to sail out to the headlands. She - was wise enough not to imperil her prospects for the sake of being - drenched with sea water. - </p> - <p> - She wondered—she did not exactly hope it—if it was possible - for Beatrice Avon to become seasick. - </p> - <p> - This was how upon that gray afternoon, the fleet of boats sailed out to - where the yacht was thumping about among the tremendous waves beyond the - headlands that guard the entrance to Lough Suangorm. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXIV.—ON THE CHANCE. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HEN the fishing - boats came within half a cable’s length of the cutter, Lord Innisfail gave - up the tiller to Brian, who was well qualified to be the organizer of the - expedition, having the reputation of being familiar with the haunts and - habits of the seals that may be found—by such as know as much about - them as Brian—among the great caves that pierce for several miles - the steep cliffs of the coast. - </p> - <p> - The responsibility of steering a boat under the headlands, either North or - South, was not sought by Lord Innisfail. For perhaps three hundred and - fifty days in every year it would be impossible to approach the cliffs in - any craft; but as Brian took the tiller he gave a knowing glance around - the coast and assured his lordship that it was a jewel of a day for a - seal-hunt, and added that it was well that he had brought only the largest - of the fishing boats, for anything smaller would sink with the weight of - the catch of seals. - </p> - <p> - He took in the slack of the main sheet and sent the cutter flying direct - to the Northern headland, the luggers following in her wake, though - scarcely preserving stations or distances with that rigorous naval - precision which occasionally sends an ironclad to the bottom. - </p> - <p> - The man-of-war may run upon a reef, and the country may be called on to - pay half a million for the damage; but it can never be said that she fails - to maintain her station prescribed by the etiquette of the Royal Navy in - following the flagship, which shows that the British sailor, wearing - epaulettes, is as true as the steel that his ship is made of, and a good - deal truer than that of some of the guns which he is asked to fire. - </p> - <p> - In a short time the boats had cleared the headland, and it seemed to some - of the cutter’s company as if they were given an opportunity of looking - along the whole west coast of Ireland in a moment. Northward and - southward, like a study in perspective, the lines of indented cliffs - stretched until they dwindled away into the gray sky. The foam line that - was curved as it curled around the enormous rocks close at hand, was - straightened out in the distance and never quite disappeared. - </p> - <p> - “Talk of the Great Wall of China,” said Lord Innisfail, pointing proudly - to the splendid chain of cliffs. “Talk of the Great Wall of China indeed! - What is it compared with that?” - </p> - <p> - He spoke as proudly as if he owned everything within that line of cliffs, - though he thanked heaven every night that he only owned a few thousand - acres in Ireland. - </p> - <p> - “What indeed—what indeed?” said Mr. Durdan. - </p> - <p> - One of the men thought the moment opportune for airing a theory that he - had to the effect that the Great Wall of China was not built by the - Chinese to keep the surrounding nations out, but by the surrounding - nations to keep the Chinese in. - </p> - <p> - It was a feasible theory, suggesting that the Chinese immigration question - existed among the Thibetans some thousands of years ago, to quite as great - an extent as it does in some other directions to-day. But it requires to - be a very strong theory to stand the strain of the Atlantic waves and a - practically unlimited view of the coast of Ireland. So no discussion - arose. - </p> - <p> - Already upon some of the flat rocks at the entrance to the great caves the - black head of a seal might be seen. It did not remain long in view, - however. Brian had scarcely pointed it out with a whisper to such persons - as were near him, when it disappeared. - </p> - <p> - “It’s the wary boys they are, to be sure!” he remarked confidentially. - </p> - <p> - His boldness in steering among the rocks made some persons more than - usually thoughtful. Fortunately the majority of those aboard the cutter - knew nothing of his display of skill. They remained quite unaware of the - jagged rocks that the boat just cleared; and when he brought the craft to - the lee of a cliff, which formed a natural breakwater and a harbour of - ripples, none of these people seemed surprised. - </p> - <p> - Lord Innisfail and a few yachtsmen who knew something of sailing, drew - long breaths. They knew what they had escaped. - </p> - <p> - One of the hands got into the punt and took a line to the cliff to moor - the yacht when the sails had been lowered, and by the time that the - mooring was effected, the other boats had come into the natural harbour—it - would have given protection—that is, natural protection, to a couple - of ironclads—no power can protect them from their own commanders. - </p> - <p> - “Now, my lard,” said Brian, who seemed at last to realize his - responsibilities, “all we’ve got to do is to grab the craythurs; but that - same’s a caution. We’ll be at least an hour-and-a-half in the caves, and - as it will be cold work, and maybe wet work, maybe some of their honours - wouldn’t mind standing by the cutter.” - </p> - <p> - The suggestion was heartily approved of by some of the yacht’s company. - Lady Innisfail said she was perfectly satisfied with such local colour as - was available without leaving the yacht, and it was understood that Miss - Avon would remain by her side. Mr. Airey said he thought he could face - with cheerfulness a scheme of existence that did not include sitting with - varying degrees of uneasiness in a small boat while other men speared an - inoffensive seal. - </p> - <p> - “Such explanations are not for the Atlantic Ocean,” said Harold, getting - over the side of the yacht into the punt that Brian had hauled close—Lord - Innisfail was already in the bow. - </p> - <p> - In a short time, by the skilful admiralship of Brian, the other boats, - which were brought up from the luggers, were manned, and their stations - were assigned to them, one being sent to explore a cave a short distance - off, while another was to remain at the entrance to pick up any seals that - might escape. The same plan was adopted in regard to the great cave, the - entrance to which was close to where the yacht was moored. Brian arranged - that his boat should enter the cave, while another, fully manned, should - stand by the rocks to capture the refugees. - </p> - <p> - All the boats then started for their stations—all except the punt - with Brian at the yoke lines, Harold and Mr. Durdan in the stern sheets, - one of the hands at the paddles, and Lord Innisfail in the bows; for when - this craft was about to push off, Brian gave an exclamation of discontent. - </p> - <p> - “What’s the matter now?” asked Lord Innisfail. - </p> - <p> - “Plenty’s the matter, my lard,” said Brian. “The sorra a bit of luck we’ll - have this day if we leave the ladies behind us.” - </p> - <p> - “Then we must put up with bad luck,” said Lord Innisfail. “Go down on your - knees to her ladyship and ask her to come with us if you think that will - do any good.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, her ladyship would come without prayers if she meant to,” said Brian. - “But it’s Miss Avon that’s open to entreaty. For the love of heaven and - the encouragement of sport, step into the boat, Sheila, and you’ll have - something to talk about for the rest of your life.” - </p> - <p> - Beatrice shook her head at the appeal, but that wouldn’t do for Brian. - “Look, my lady, look at her eyes, aren’t they just jumping out of her head - like young trout in a stream in May?” he cried to Lady Innisfail. “Isn’t - she waiting for you to say the word to let her come, an’ not a word does - any gentleman in the boat speak on her behalf.” - </p> - <p> - The gentlemen remained dumb, but Lady Innisfail declared that if Miss Avon - was not afraid of a wetting and cared to go in the boat, there was no - reason why she should not do so. - </p> - <p> - In another moment Beatrice had stepped into the punt and it had pushed off - with a cheer from Brian. The men in the other boats, now in the distance, - hearing the cheer, but without knowing why it arose, sent back an answer - that aroused the thousand echoes of the cliffs and the ten thousand sea - birds that arose in a cloud from every crevice of the rocks. Thus it was - that the approach of the boat to the great cave did not take place in - silence. - </p> - <p> - Harold had not uttered a word. He had not even looked at Edmund Airey’s - face to see what expression it wore when Beatrice stepped into the boat. - </p> - <p> - “Did you ever hear anything like Airey’s roundabout phrase about a scheme - of existence?” said Mr. Durdan. - </p> - <p> - “It is his way of putting a simple matter,” said Harold. “You heard of the - man who, in order to soften down the fact that a girl had what are - colloquially known as beetle-crushers, wrote that her feet tended to - increase the mortality among coleoptera?” - </p> - <p> - “I’m afraid that the days of the present government are numbered,” said - Mr. Durdan, who seemed to think that the remark was in logical sequence - with Harold’s story. - </p> - <p> - Beatrice looked wonderingly at the speaker; it was some moments before she - found an echo in the expression on Harold’s face to what she felt. - </p> - <p> - The man who could think of such things as the breaking up of a government, - when floating in thirty fathoms of green sea, beneath the shadow of such - cliffs as the boat was approaching, was a mystery to the girl, though she - was the daughter of one of the nineteenth century historians, to whom - nothing is a mystery. - </p> - <p> - The boat entered the great cave without a word being spoken by any one - aboard, and in a few minutes it was being poled along in semi-darkness. - The lapping of the swell from the entrance against the sides of the cave - sounded on through the distance of the interior, and from those mysterious - depths came strange sounds of splashing water, of dropping stalactites, - and now and again a mighty sob of waves choked within a narrow vent. - </p> - <p> - Silently the boat was forced onward, and soon all light from the entrance - was obscured. Through total darkness the little craft crept for nearly - half a mile. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly a blaze of light shot up with startling effect in the bows of the - boat. It only came from a candle that Brian had lit: but its gleam was - reflected in millions of stalactites into what seemed an interminable - distance—millions of stalactites on the roof and the walls, and - millions of ripples beneath gave back the gleam, until the boat appeared - to be the centre of a vast illumination. - </p> - <p> - The dark shadows of the men who were using the oars as poles, danced about - the brilliant roof and floor of the cave, adding to the fantastic charm of - the scene. - </p> - <p> - “Now,” said Brian, in a whisper, “these craythurs don’t understand - anything that’s said to them unless by a human being, so we’ll need to be - silent enough. We’ll be at the first ledge soon, and there maybe you’ll - wait with the lady, Mr. Wynne—you’re heavier than Mr. Durdan, and - every inch of water that the boat draws is worth thinking about. I’ll - leave a candle with you, but not a word must you speak.” - </p> - <p> - “All right,” said Harold. “You’re the manager of the expedition; we must - obey you; but I don’t exactly see where my share in the sport comes in.” - </p> - <p> - “I’d explain it all if I could trust myself to speak,” said Brian. “The - craythurs has ears.” The ledge referred to by him was reached in silence. - It was perhaps six inches above the water, and in an emergency it might - have afforded standing room for three persons. So much Harold saw by the - light of the candle that the boatman placed in a niche of rock four feet - above the water. - </p> - <p> - At a sign from Brian, Harold got upon the ledge and helped Beatrice out of - the boat. - </p> - <p> - The light of the candle that was in the bow of the boat gleamed upon the - figure of a man naked from the waist up, and wearing a hard round hat with - a candle fastened to the brim. - </p> - <p> - Harold knew that this was the costume of the seal-hunter of the Western - caves, for he had had a talk with Brian on the subject, and had learned - that only by swimming with a lighted candle on his forehead for a quarter - of a mile, the hunter could reach the sealing ground at the termination of - the cave. - </p> - <p> - Without a word being spoken, the boat went on, and its light soon - glimmered mysteriously in the distance. - </p> - <p> - Harold and Beatrice stood side by side on the narrow ledge of rock and - watched the dwindling of the light. The candle that was on the niche of - rock almost beside them seemed dwindling also. It had become the merest - spark. Harold saw that Brian had inadvertently placed it so that the - dripping of the water from the roof sent flecks of damp upon the wick. - </p> - <p> - He stretched out his hand to shift it to another place, but before he - could touch it, a large stalactite dropped upon it, and not only - extinguished it, but sent it into the water with a splash. - </p> - <p> - The little cry that came from the girl as the blackness of darkness closed - upon them, sounded to his ears as a reproach. - </p> - <p> - “I had not touched it,” said he. “Something dropped from the roof upon it. - You don’t mind the darkness?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no—no,” said she, doubtfully. “But we were commanded to be - dumb.” - </p> - <p> - “That command was given on the assumption that the candle would continue - burning—now the conditions are changed,” said he, with a sophistry - that would have done credit to a cabinet minister. - </p> - <p> - “Oh,” said she. - </p> - <p> - There was a considerable pause before she asked him how long he thought it - would be before the boat would return. - </p> - <p> - He declined to bind himself to any expression of opinion on the subject. - </p> - <p> - Then there was another pause, filled up only by the splash of something - falling from the roof—by the wash of the water against the smooth - rock. - </p> - <p> - “I wonder how it has come about that I am given a chance of speaking to - you at last?” said he. - </p> - <p> - “At last?” said she, repeating his words in the same tone of inquiry. - </p> - <p> - “I say at last, because I have been waiting for such an opportunity for - some time, but it did not come. I don’t suppose I was clever enough to - make my opportunity, but now it has come, thank God.” - </p> - <p> - Again there was silence. He seemed to think that he had said something - requiring a reply from her, but she did not speak. - </p> - <p> - “I wonder if you would believe me when I say that I love you,” he - remarked. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” she replied, as naturally as though he had asked her what she - thought of the weather. “Yes, I think I would believe you. If you did not - love me—if I was not sure that you loved me, I should be the most - miserable girl in all the world.” - </p> - <p> - “Great God!” he cried. “You do not mean to say that you love me, - Beatrice?” - </p> - <p> - “If you could only see my face now, you would know it,” said she. “My eyes - would tell you all—no, not all—that is in my heart.” - </p> - <p> - He caught her hands, after first grasping a few handfuls of clammy rock, - for the hands of the truest lovers do not meet mechanically. - </p> - <p> - “I see them,” he whispered—“I see your eyes through the darkness. My - love, my love!” - </p> - <p> - He did not kiss her. His soul revolted from the idea of the commonplace - kiss in the friendly secrecy of the darkness. - </p> - <p> - There are opportunities and opportunities. He believed that if he had - kissed her then she would never have forgiven him, and he was right. “What - a fool I was!” he cried. “Two nights ago, when I overheard a man tell you, - as I had told you long ago—so long ago—more than a week ago—that - he did not want you to pass out of his sight—when I heard you make - the same promise to him as you had made to me, I felt as if there was - nothing left for me in the world. I went out into the darkness, and as I - stood at the place when I first saw you, I thought that I should be doing - well if I were to throw myself headlong down those rocks into the sea that - the rain was beating upon. Beatrice, God only knows if it would be better - or worse for you if I had thrown myself down—if I were to leave you - standing alone here now.” - </p> - <p> - “Do not say those words—they are like the words I asked you before - not to say. Even then your words meant everything to me. They mean - everything to me still.” - </p> - <p> - He gave a little laugh. Triumph rang through it. He did not seem to think - that his laughter might sound incongruous to her. - </p> - <p> - “This is my hour,” he said. “Whatever fate may have in store for me it - cannot make me unlive this hour. And to think that I had got no idea that - such an hour should ever come to me—that you should ever come to me, - my beloved! But you came to me. You came to me when I had tried to bring - myself to feel that there was something worth living for in the world - apart from love.” - </p> - <p> - “And now?” - </p> - <p> - “And now—and now—now I know that there is nothing but love - that is worth living for. What is your thought, Beatrice—tell me all - that is in your heart?” - </p> - <p> - “All—all?” She now gave the same little laugh that he had given. She - felt that her turn had come. - </p> - <p> - She gave just the same laugh when his feeling of triumph had given place - to a very different feeling—when he had told her that he was a - pauper—that he had no position in the world—that he was - dependent upon his father for every penny that he had to spend, with the - exception of a few hundred pounds a year, which he inherited from his - mother—that it was an act of baseness on his part to tell her that - he loved her. - </p> - <p> - He had plenty of time for telling her all this, and for explaining his - position thoroughly, for nearly an hour had passed before a gleam of light - and a hail from the furthest recesses of the cave, made them aware of the - fact that other interests than theirs existed in the world. - </p> - <p> - And yet when he had told her all that he had to tell to his disadvantage, - she gave that little laugh of triumph. He would have given a good deal to - be able to see the expression which he knew was in those wonderful eyes of - hers, as that laugh came from her. - </p> - <p> - Not being able to do so, however, he could only crush her hands against - his lips and reply to the boat’s hail. - </p> - <p> - Brian, on hearing of the mishap to the candle, delivered a torrent of - execration against himself. It took Harold some minutes to bring himself - up to the point of Lord Innisfail’s enthusiasm on the subject of - seal-fishing. Five excellent specimens were in the bottom of the boat, and - the men who had swum after them were there also. A strong odour of whiskey - was about them; and the general idea that prevailed was that they would - not suffer from a chill, though they had been in the water for three - quarters of an hour. - </p> - <p> - As the other boats only succeeded in capturing three seals among them all, - Brian had statistics to bear out his contention that the presence of - Beatrice had brought luck to his boat. - </p> - <p> - He pocketed two sovereigns which Harold handed him when the boats returned - to the mooring-place, and he was more profuse than ever in his abuse of - his own stupidity in placing the candle so as to be affected by the damp - from the roof. - </p> - <p> - His eyes twinkled all the time in a way that made Harold’s cheeks red. - </p> - <p> - The judge found Miss Avon somewhat <i>distraite</i> after dinner that - night. He became pensive in consequence. He wondered if she thought him - elderly. - </p> - <p> - He did not mind in the least growing old, but the idea of being thought - elderly was abhorrent to him. - </p> - <p> - The next day Beatrice and her father returned to their cottage at the - other side of the lough. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXV.—ON THE SOCIAL VALUE OF THE REPROBATE. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>OMETHING - remarkable had occurred. Lord Fotheringay had been for a fortnight under - one roof without disgracing himself. - </p> - <p> - The charitable people said he was reforming. - </p> - <p> - The others said he was aging rapidly. - </p> - <p> - The fact remained the same, however: he had been a fortnight at the Castle - and he had not yet disgraced himself. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Burgoyne congratulated Lady Innisfail upon this remarkable - occurrence, and Lady Innisfail began to hope that it might get talked - about. If her autumn party at Castle Innisfail were to be talked about in - connection with the reform of Lord Fotheringay, much more interest would - be attached to the party and the Castle than would be the result of the - publication of the statistics of a gigantic shoot. Gigantic shoots did - undoubtedly take place on the Innisfail Irish property, but they - invariably took place before the arrival of Lord Innisfail and his guests, - and the statistics were, for obvious reasons, not published. They only - leaked out now and again. - </p> - <p> - The most commonplace people might enjoy the reputation attaching to the - careful preservation and the indiscriminate slaughter of game; but Lady - Innisfail knew that the distinction accruing from a connection with a - social scandal of a really high order, or with a great social reform—either - as regards a hardened reprobate or an afternoon toilet—was something - much greater. - </p> - <p> - Of course, she understood perfectly well that in England the Divorce Court - is the natural and legitimate medium for attaining distinction in the form - of a Special Edition and a pen and ink portrait; but she had seen great - things accomplished by the rumour of an unfair game of cards, as well as - by a very daring skirt dance. - </p> - <p> - Next to a high-class scandal, the discovery of a new religion was a means - of reaching eminence, she knew. With the exact social value attaching to - the Reform of a Hardened Reprobate, she was as yet unacquainted, the fact - being that she had never had any experience of such an incident—it - was certainly very rare in the society in which she moved, so that it is - not surprising that she was not prepared to say at a moment how much it - would count in the estimation of the world. - </p> - <p> - But if the Reform of a Reprobate—especially a reprobate with a title—was - so rare as to be uncatalogued, so to speak, surely it should be of - exceptional value as a social incident. Should it not partake of the - prestige which attaches to a rare occurrence? - </p> - <p> - This was the way that Mrs. Burgoyne put the matter to her friend and - hostess, and her friend and hostess was clever enough to appreciate the - force of her phrases. She began to perceive that although Lord Fotheringay - had come to the Castle on the slenderest of invitations, and simply - because it suited his purpose—although she had been greatly annoyed - at his sudden appearance at the Castle, still good might come of it. - </p> - <p> - She did not venture to estimate from the standpoint of the moralist, the - advantages accruing to the Reformed Reprobate himself from the incident of - his reform, she merely looked at the matter from the standpoint of the - woman of society—which is something quite different—desirous - of attaining a certain social distinction. - </p> - <p> - Thus it was that Lady Innisfail took to herself the credit of the Reform - of the Reprobate, and petted the reprobate accordingly, giving no - attention whatever to the affairs of his son. These affairs, interesting - though they had been to her some time before, now became insignificant - compared with the Great Reform. - </p> - <p> - She even went the length of submitting to be confided in by Lord - Fotheringay; and she heard, with genuine interest, from his own lips that - he considered the world in general to be hollow. He had found it so. He - had sounded the depths of its hollowness. He had found that in all grades - of society there was much evil. The working classes—he had studied - the question of the working man not as a parliamentary candidate, - consequently honestly—drank too much beer. They sought happiness - through the agency of beer; but all the beer produced by all the brewers - in the House of Lords would not bring happiness to the working classes. As - for the higher grades of society—the people who were guilty of - partaking of unearned increment—well, they were wrong too. He - thought it unnecessary to give the particulars of the avenues through - which they sought happiness. But they were all wrong. The domestic life—there, - and there only, might one find the elements of true happiness. He knew - this because he had endeavoured to reach happiness by every other avenue - and had failed in his endeavours. He now meant to supply his omission, and - he regretted that it had never occurred to him to do so before. Yes, some - poet or other had written something or other on the subject of the great - charm of a life of domesticity, and Lord Fotheringay assured Lady - Innisfail in confidence that that poet was right. - </p> - <p> - Lady Innisfail sighed and said that the Home—the English Home—with - its simple pleasures and innocent mirth, was where the Heart—the - English Heart—was born. What happiness was within the reach of all - if they would only be content with the Home! Society might be all very - well in its way. There were duties to be discharged—every rank in - life carried its duties with it; but how sweet it was, after one had - discharged one’s social obligations, to find a solace in the retirement of - Home. - </p> - <p> - Lord Fotheringay lifted up his hands and said “Ah—ah,” in different - cadences. - </p> - <p> - Lady Innisfail folded her hands and shook her head with some degree of - solemnity. She felt confident that if Lord Fotheringay was in earnest, her - autumn party would be talked about with an enthusiasm surpassing that - which would attach to the comments on any of the big shoots in Scotland, - or in Yorkshire, or in Wales. - </p> - <p> - But when Lord Fotheringay had an opportunity of conversing alone with Mr. - Airey, he did not think it necessary to dwell upon the delights which he - had begun to perceive might be found in a life of pure domesticity. He - took the liberty of reminding Mr. Airey of the conversation they had on - the morning after Miss Avon’s arrival at the Castle. - </p> - <p> - “Had we a conversation then, Lord Fotheringay?” said Mr. Airey, in a tone - that gave Lord Fotheringay to understand that if any contentious point was - about to be discussed, it would rest with him to prove everything. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, we had a conversation,” said Lord Fotheringay. “I was foolish enough - to make a confidant of you.” - </p> - <p> - “If you did so, you certainly were foolish,” said Edmund, quietly. - </p> - <p> - “I have been keeping my eyes open and my ears open as well, during the - past ten days,” said Lord Fotheringay, with a leer that was meant to be - significant. Edmund Airey, however, only took it to signify that Lord - Fotheringay could easily be put into a very bad temper. He said nothing, - but allowed Lord Fotheringay to continue. “Yes, let me tell you that when - I keep both eyes and ears open not much escapes me. I have seen and heard - a good deal. You are a clever sort of person, friend Airey; but you don’t - know the world as I know it.” - </p> - <p> - “No, no—as you know it—ah, no,” remarked Mr. Airey. - </p> - <p> - Lord Fotheringay was a trifle put out by the irritating way in which the - words were spoken. Still, the pause he made was not of long duration. - </p> - <p> - “You have your game to play, like other people, I suppose,” he resumed, - after the little pause. - </p> - <p> - “You are at liberty to suppose anything you please, my dear Lord - Fotheringay,” said Mr. Airey, with a smile. - </p> - <p> - “Come,” said Lord Fotheringay, adopting quite another tone. “Come, Airey, - speaking as man to man, wasn’t it a confoundedly shabby trick for you to - play upon me—getting me to tell you that I meant to marry that young - thing—to save her from unhappiness, Airey?” - </p> - <p> - “Well?” said Airey. - </p> - <p> - “Well?” said Lord Fotheringay. - </p> - <p> - “You didn’t complete your sentence. Was the shabby trick accepting your - confidence?” - </p> - <p> - “The shabby trick was trying to win the affection of the young woman after - I had declared to you my intention.” - </p> - <p> - “That was the shabby trick, was it?” - </p> - <p> - “I have no hesitation in saying that it was.” - </p> - <p> - “Very well. I hope that you have nothing more to confide in me beside this—your - confidences have so far been singularly uninteresting.” - </p> - <p> - Lord Fotheringay got really angry. - </p> - <p> - “Let me tell you—” he began, but he was stopped by Airey. - </p> - <p> - “No, I decline to let you tell me anything,” said he. “You accused me just - now of being so foolish as to listen to your confidences. I, perhaps, - deserved the reproach. But I should be a fool if I were to give you - another chance of levelling the same accusation against me. You will have - to force your confidences on someone else in future, unless such as - concern your liver. You confided in me that your liver wasn’t quite the - thing. How is it to-day?” - </p> - <p> - “I understand your tactics,” said Lord Fotheringay, with a snap. “And I’ll - take good care to make others acquainted with them also,” he added. “Oh, - no, Mr. Airey; I wasn’t born yesterday.” - </p> - <p> - “To that fact every Peerage in the kingdom bears testimony,” said Mr. - Airey. - </p> - <p> - Lord Fotheringay had neglected his cigar. It had gone out. He now took - three or four violent puffs at it; he snapped it from between his teeth, - looked at the end, and then dropped it on the ground and stamped on it. - </p> - <p> - “It was your own fault,” said Airey. “Try one of mine, and don’t bother - yourself with other matters.” - </p> - <p> - “I’ll bother myself with what I please,” said Lord Fotheringay with a - snarl. - </p> - <p> - But he took Mr. Airey’s cigar, and smoked it to the end. He knew that Mr. - Airey smoked Carolinas. - </p> - <p> - This little scene took place outside the Castle before lunch on the second - day after the departure of Mr. Avon and his daughter; and, after lunch, - Lord Fotheringay put on a yachting jacket and cap, and announced his - intention of having a stroll along the cliffs. His doctor had long ago - assured him, he said, that he did not take sufficient exercise nor did he - breathe enough fresh air. He meant in future to put himself on a strict - regimen in this respect, and would begin at once. - </p> - <p> - He was allowed to carry out his intention alone—indeed he did not - hint that his medical adviser had suggested company as essential to the - success of any scheme of open air exercise. - </p> - <p> - The day was a breezy one, and the full force of the wind was felt at the - summit of the cliff coast; but like many other gentlemen who dread being - thought elderly, he was glad to seize every opportunity of showing that he - was as athletic as the best of the young fellows; so he strode along, - gasping and blowing with quite as much fresh air in his face as the most - exacting physician could possibly have prescribed for a single dose. - </p> - <p> - He made his way to the mooring-place of the boats, and he found Brian in - the boat-house engaged in making everything snug. - </p> - <p> - He was very civil to Brian, and after a transfer of coin, inquired about - the weather. - </p> - <p> - There was a bit of a draught of wind in the lough, Brian said, but it was - a fine day for a sail. Would his lardship have a mind for a bit of a sail? - The <i>Acushla</i> was cruising, but the <i>Mavourneen</i>, a neat little - craft that sailed like a swallow, was at his lardship’s service. - </p> - <p> - After some little consideration, Lord Fotheringay said that though he had - no idea of sailing when he left the Castle, yet he never could resist the - temptation of a fine breeze—it was nothing stronger than a breeze - that was blowing, was it? - </p> - <p> - “A draught—just a bit of a draught,” said the man. - </p> - <p> - “In that case,” said Lord Fotheringay, “I think I may venture. In fact, - now that I come to think of it, I should like to visit the opposite shore. - There is a Castle or something, is there not, on the opposite shore?” - </p> - <p> - “Is it a Castle?” said Brian. “Oh, there’s a power of Castles scattered - along the other shore, my lard. It’s thrippin’ over them your lardship - will be after doin.’” - </p> - <p> - “Then we’ll not lose a moment in starting,” said Lord Fotheringay. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXVI.—ON FRANKNESS AND FRIENDSHIP. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>RIAN took care - that no moment was lost. In the course of a very few minutes Lord - Fotheringay was seated on the windward thwarts of the boat, his hands - grasping the gunwale to right and left, and his head bowed to mitigate in - some measure the force of the shower of sea-water that flashed over the - boat as her hows neatly clipped the crest off every wave. - </p> - <p> - Lord Fotheringay held on grimly. He hated the sea and all connected with - it; though he hated the House of Lords to almost as great an extent, yet - he had offered the promoter of the Channel Tunnel to attend in the House - and lend the moral weight of his name to the support of the scheme. It was - only the breadth and spontaneousness of Brian’s assurance that the breeze - was no more than a draught, that had induced him to carry out his - cherished idea of crossing the lough. - </p> - <p> - “Didn’t I tell your lardship that the boat could sail with the best of - them?” said the man, as he hauled in the sheet a trifle, and brought the - boat closer to the wind—a manouvre that did not tend to lessen the - cascade that deluged his passenger. - </p> - <p> - Lord Fotheringay said not a word. He kept his head bowed to every flap of - the waves beneath the bows. His attitude would have commended itself to - any painter anxious to produce a type of Submission to the Will of Heaven. - </p> - <p> - He was aging quickly—so much Brian perceived, and dwelt upon—with - excellent effect—in his subsequent narrative of the voyage to some - of the servants at the Castle. The cosmetic that will withstand the - constant application of sea-water has yet to be invented, so that in half - an hour Lord Fotheringay would not have been recognized except by his - valet. Brian had taken aboard a well-preserved gentleman with a rosy - complexion and a moustache almost too black for nature. The person who - disembarked at the opposite side of the lough was a stooped old man with - lank streaky cheeks and a wisp of gray hair on each side of his upper lip. - </p> - <p> - “And it’s a fine sailor your lardship is entirely,” remarked the boatman, - as he lent his tottering, dazed passenger a helping hand up the beach of - pebbles. “And it’s raal enjoyment your lardship will be after having among - the Castles of the ould quality, after your lardship’s sail.” - </p> - <p> - Not a word did Lord Fotheringay utter. He felt utterly broken down in - spirit, and it was not until he had got behind a rock and had taken out a - pocket-comb and a pocket-glass, and had by these auxiliaries, and the - application of a grain or two of roseate powder without which he never - ventured a mile from his base of supplies, repaired some of the ravages of - his voyage, that he ventured to make his way to the picturesque white - cottage, which Miss Avon had once pointed out to him as the temporary - residence of her father and herself. - </p> - <p> - It was a five-roomed cottage that had been built and furnished by an - enthusiastic English fisherman for his accommodation during his annual - residence in Ireland. One, more glance did Lord Fotheringay give to his - pocket-mirror before knocking at the door. - </p> - <p> - He would have had time to renew his youth, had he had his pigments handy, - before the door was opened by an old woman with a shawl over her shoulders - and a cap, that had possibly once been white, on her straggling hairs. - </p> - <p> - She made the stage courtesy of an old woman in front of Lord Fotheringay, - and explained that she was a little hard of hearing—she was even - obliging enough to give a circumstantial account of the accident that was - responsible for her infirmity. - </p> - <p> - “Miss Avon?” said the old woman, when Lord Fotheringay had repeated his - original request in a louder tone. “Miss Avon? no, she’s not here now—not - even her father, who was a jewel of a gentleman, though a bit queer. God - bless them both now that they have gone back to England, maybe never to - return.” - </p> - <p> - “Back to England. When?” shouted Lord Fotheringay. - </p> - <p> - “Why, since early in the morning. The Blessed Virgin keep the young lady - from harm, for she’s swater than honey, and the Saints preserve her - father, for he was—” - </p> - <p> - Lord Fotheringay did not wait to hear the position of the historian - defined by the old woman. He turned away from the door with such words as - caused her infirmity to be a blessing in disguise. - </p> - <p> - When Brian greeted his return with a few well-chosen phrases bearing upon - the architecture of the early Celtic nobles, Lord Fotheringay swore at - him; but the boatman, who did a little in that way himself when under - extreme provocation, only smiled as Lord Fotheringay took his seat in the - boat once more, and prepared for the ordeal of his passage. - </p> - <p> - There was a good deal in Brian’s smile. - </p> - <p> - The wind had changed most unaccountably, he explained, so that it would, - he feared, be absolutely necessary to tack out almost to the entrance of - the lough in order to reach the mooring-place. For the next hour he became - the exponent of every system of sailing known to modern navigators. After - something over an hour of this manoeuvring, he had compassion upon his - victim, and ran the boat before the wind—he might have done so at - first if Lord Fotheringay had not shown such a poor knowledge of men as to - swear at him—to the mooring-place. - </p> - <p> - “If it’s not making too free with your lardship, I’d offer your lardship a - hand up the track,” said Brian. “It’s myself that has to go up to the - Castle anyway, with a letter to her ladyship from Miss Avon. Didn’t the - young lady give it to me in the morning before she started with his honour - her father on the car?” - </p> - <p> - “And you knew all this time that Miss Avon and her father had left the - neighbourhood?” said Lord Fotheringay, through his store teeth. - </p> - <p> - “Tubbe sure I did,” said Brian. “But Miss Avon didn’t live in one of the - Castles of the ould quality that your lardship was so particular ready to - explore.” - </p> - <p> - Lord Fotheringay felt that his knowledge of the world and the dwellers - therein had its limits. - </p> - <p> - It was at Lord Fotheringay’s bedside that Harold said his farewell to his - father the next day. Lord Fotheringay’s incipient rheumatism had been - acutely developed by his drenching of the previous afternoon, and he - thought it prudent to remain in bed. - </p> - <p> - “You’re going, are you?” snarled the Father. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I’m going,” replied the Son. “Lord and Lady Innisfail leave - to-morrow.” - </p> - <p> - “Have you asked Miss Craven to marry you?” inquired the Father. - </p> - <p> - “No,” said Harold. - </p> - <p> - “Why not—tell me that?” - </p> - <p> - “I haven’t made up my mind on the subject of marrying.” - </p> - <p> - “Then the sooner you make it up the better it will be for yourself. I’ve - been watching you pretty closely for some days—I did not fail to - notice a certain jaunty indifference to what was going on around you on - the night of your return from that tomfoolery in the boats—seal-hunting, - I think they called it. I saw the way you looked at Helen Craven that - night. Contempt, or something akin to contempt, was in every glance. Now - you know that she is to be at Ella’s in October. You have thus six weeks - to make up your mind to marry her. If you make up your mind to marry - anyone else, you may make up your mind to live upon the three hundred a - year that your mother left you. Not a penny you will get from me. I’ve - stinted myself hitherto to secure you your allowance. By heavens, I’ll not - do so any longer. You will only receive your allowance from me for another - year, and then only by signing a declaration at my lawyer’s to the effect - that you are not married. I’ve heard of secret marriages before now, but - you needn’t think of that little game. That’s all I’ve to say to you.” - </p> - <p> - “And it is enough,” said Harold. “Good-bye.” He left the room and then he - left the Castle, Lady Innisfail only shaking her head and whispering, “You - have disappointed me,” as he made his adieux. - </p> - <p> - The next day all the guests had departed—all, with the exception of - Lord Fotheringay, who was still too ill to move. In the course of some - days, however, the doctor thought that he might without risk—except, - of course, such as was incidental to the conveyance itself—face a - drive on an outside car, to the nearest railway-station. - </p> - <p> - Before leaving him, as she was compelled to do owing to her own - engagements, Lady Innisfail had another interesting conversation—it - almost amounted to a consultation—with her friend Mrs. Burgoyne on - the subject of the Reform of the Hardened Reprobate. And the result of - their further consideration of the subject from every standpoint, was to - induce them to believe that, with such a powerful incentive to the Higher - Life as an acute rheumatic attack, Lord Fotheringay’s reform might safely - be counted on. It might, at any rate, be freely discussed during the - winter. If, subsequently, he should become a backslider, it would not - matter. His reform would have gone the way of all topics. - </p> - <p> - Helen Craven and Edmund Airey had also a consultation together on the - subject upon which they had previously talked more than once. - </p> - <p> - Each of them showed such an anxiety to give prominence to the circumstance - that they were actuated solely for Harold’s benefit in putting into - practice the plan which one of them had suggested, it was pretty clear - that they had an uneasy feeling that they required some justification for - the course which they had thought well to pursue. - </p> - <p> - Yes, they agreed that Harold should be placed beyond the power of his - father. Mr. Airey said he had never met a more contemptible person than - Lord Fotheringay, and for the sake of making Harold independent of such a - father, he would, he declared, do again all that he had done during the - week of Miss Avon’s sojourn at the Castle. - </p> - <p> - It was, indeed, sad, Miss Craven felt, that Harold should have such a - father. - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps it was because I felt this so strongly that I—I—well, - I began to ask myself if there might not be some way of escape for him,” - said she, in a pensive tone that was quite different from the tone of the - frank communication that she had made to Mr. Airey some time before. - </p> - <p> - “I can quite understand that,” said Edmund. “Well, though Harold hasn’t - shown himself to be wise—that is—” - </p> - <p> - “We both know what that means,” said she, anticipating his definition of - wisdom so far as Harold was concerned. - </p> - <p> - “We do,” said Edmund. “If he has not shown himself to be wise in this way, - he has not shown himself to be a fool in another way.” - </p> - <p> - “I suppose he has not,” said she, thoughtfully. - </p> - <p> - “Great heavens! you don’t mean to think that—” - </p> - <p> - “That he has told Beatrice Avon that he loves her? No, I don’t fancy that - he has, still—” - </p> - <p> - “Still?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I thought that, on their return from that awful seal-hunt, I saw a - change in both of them. It seemed to me that—that—well, I - don’t quite know how I should express it. Haven’t you seen a thirsty look - on a man’s face?” - </p> - <p> - “A thirsty look? I believe I have seen it on a woman’s face.” - </p> - <p> - “It may be the same. Well, Harold Wynne’s face wore such an expression for - days before the seal-hunt—I can’t say that I noticed it on Beatrice - Avon’s face at the same time; but so soon as they returned from the boats - on that evening, I noticed the change on Harold’s—perhaps it was - only fancy.” - </p> - <p> - “I am inclined to believe that it was fancy. In my belief none of us was - quite the same after that wild cruise. I was beside Miss Avon all the time - that we were sailing out to the caves, and though she and Harold were in - the boat together, yet Lord Innisfail and Durdan were in the same boat - also. I can’t see how they could have had any time for an understanding - while they were engaged in looking after the seals.” - </p> - <p> - Miss Craven shook her head doubtfully. It was clear that she was a - believer in the making of opportunities in such matters as those which - they were discussing. - </p> - <p> - “Anyhow, we have done all that we could reasonably be expected to do,” - said she. - </p> - <p> - “And perhaps a trifle over,” said he. “If it were not that I like Harold - so much—and you, too, my dear”—this seemed an afterthought—“I - would not have done all that I have done. It is quite unlikely that Miss - Avon and I shall be under the same roof again, but if we should be, I - shall, you may be certain, find out from her whether or not an - understanding exists between her and Harold. But what understanding could - it be?” - </p> - <p> - Miss Craven smiled. Was this the man who had made such a reputation for - cleverness, she asked herself—a man who placed a limit on the - opportunities of lovers, and then inquired what possible understanding - could be come to between a penniless man and a girl with “a gray eye or - so.” - </p> - <p> - “What understanding?” said she. “Why, he may have unfolded to her a scheme - for becoming Lord High Chancellor after two year’s hard work at the bar, - with a garden-party now and again; or for being made a Bishop in the same - time; and their understanding may be to wait for one another until the - arrival of either event. Never mind. We have done our best for him.” - </p> - <p> - “For them,” said Edmund. - </p> - <p> - Yes, he tried to bring himself to believe that all that he had done was - for the benefit of his friend Harold and for his friend Beatrice—to - say nothing of his friend Helen as well. After a time he did almost force - himself to believe that there was nothing that was not strictly honourable - in the endeavour that he had made, at Helen’s suggestion, to induce - Beatrice Avon to perceive the possibility of her obtaining a proposal of - marriage from a rich and distinguished man, if she were only to decline to - afford the impecunious son of a dissolute peer an opportunity of telling - her that he loved her. - </p> - <p> - Now and again, however, he had an uneasy twinge, as the thought occurred - to him that if some man, understanding the exact circumstances of the - case, were to be as frank with him as Helen Craven had been (once), that - man might perhaps be led to say that he had been making a fool of Beatrice - for the sake of gratifying his own vanity. - </p> - <p> - It was just possible, and he knew it, that that frank friend—assuming - that frankness and friendship may exist together—might be disposed - to give prominence in this matter to the impulses of vanity, to the - exclusion of the impulses of friendship, and a desire to set the crooked - straight. - </p> - <p> - Even the fortnight which he spent in Norway with one of the heads of the - Government party—a gentleman who would probably have shortly at his - disposal an important Under-Secretaryship—failed quite to abate - these little twinges that he had when he reflected upon the direction that - might be taken by a frank friend, in considering the question of the - responsibility involved in his attitude toward Miss Avon. - </p> - <p> - It was just a week after Lord Fotheringay had left Castle Innisfail that a - stranger appeared in the neighbourhood—a strange gentleman with the - darkest hair and the fiercest eyes ever seen, even in that region of dark - hair and eyes. He inquired who were the guests at the Castle, and when he - learned that the last of them—a distinguished peer named Lord - Fotheringay—had gone some time, and that it was extremely unlikely - that the Castle would be open for another ten months, his eyes became - fiercer than ever. He made use of words in a strange tongue, which Brian - declared, if not oaths, would do duty for oaths without anyone being the - wiser. - </p> - <p> - The stranger departed as mysteriously as he had come. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXVII.—ON CIRCUMVENTING A STAG. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>F Edmund Airey had - a good deal to think about in Norway, Harold Wynne was certainly not - without a subject for thought in Scotland. - </p> - <p> - It was with a feeling of exultation that he had sat in the bows of the - cutter <i>Acushla</i> on her return to her moorings after that seal-hunt - which everyone agreed had been an extraordinary success. Had this - expression of exultation been noticed by Lady Innisfail, it would, - naturally, have been attributed by her to the fact that he had been in the - boat that had made the largest catch of seals. To be sure, Miss Craven, - who had observed at least a change in the expression upon his face, did - not attribute it to his gratification on having slaughtered some seals, - but then Miss Craven was more acute than an ordinary observer. - </p> - <p> - He felt that he did well to be exultant, as he looked at Beatrice Avon - standing by the side of Lord Innisfail at the tiller. The wind that filled - the mainsail came upon her face and held her garments against her body, - revealing every gracious curve of her shape, and suggesting to his eyes a - fine piece of sculpture with flying drapery. - </p> - <p> - And she was his. - </p> - <p> - It seemed to him when he had begun to speak to her in the solemn darkness - of the seal-cave, that it was impossible that he could receive any answer - from her that would satisfy him. How was it possible that she could love - him, he had asked himself at some agonizing moments during the week. He - thought that she might possibly have come to love him in time, if she had - not been with him in the boat during that night of mist, when the voice of - Helen Craven had wailed round the cliffs. Her arrival at the Castle could - not but have revealed to her the fact that she might obtain an offer of - marriage from someone who was socially far above him; and thus he had - almost lost all hope of her. - </p> - <p> - And yet she was his. - </p> - <p> - The course adopted by his friend Edmund Airey had astonished him. He could - not believe that Airey had fallen in love with her. It was not consistent - with Airey’s nature to fall in love with anyone, he believed. But he knew - that in the matter of falling in love, people do not always act - consistently with their character; so that, after all, Airey might be only - waiting an opportunity to tell her that he had fallen in love with her. - </p> - <p> - The words that he had overheard Airey speak to her upon the night of the - <i>tableaux</i> in the hall—words that had driven him out into the - night of rain and storm to walk madly along the cliffs, and to wonder if - he were to throw himself into the waves beneath, would he be strong enough - to let himself sink into their depths or weak enough to make a struggle - for life—those words had cleared away whatever doubts he had - entertained as to Edmund’s intentions. - </p> - <p> - And yet she was his. - </p> - <p> - She had answered his question so simply and clearly—with such - earnestness and tenderness as startled him. It seemed that they had come - to love each other, as he had read of lovers doing, from the first moment - that they had met. It seemed that her love had, like his, only increased - through their being kept apart from each other—mainly by the clever - device of Miss Craven and the co-operation of Edmund Airey, though, of - course, Harold did not know this. - </p> - <p> - His reflections upon this marvel—the increase of their love, though - they had few opportunities of being together and alone—would have - been instructive even to persons so astute and so ready to undertake the - general control of events as Mr. Airey and Miss Craven. Unfortunately, - however, they were as ignorant of what had taken place to induce these - reflections as he was of the conspiracy between them to keep him apart - from Beatrice to secure his happiness and the happiness of Beatrice. - </p> - <p> - The fact that Beatrice loved him and had confessed her love for him, - though they had had so few opportunities of being together, seemed to him - the greatest of all the marvels that he had recently experienced. - </p> - <p> - As he gave a farewell glance at the lough and recollected how, a fortnight - before, he had walked along the cliffs and had cast to the winds all his - cherished ideas of love, he could not help feeling that he had been - surrounded with marvels. He had had a narrow escape—he actually - regarded a goodlooking young woman with several thousands of pounds of an - income, as a narrow escape. - </p> - <p> - This was the last of the reflections that came to him with the sound of - the green seas choked in the narrows of the lough. - </p> - <p> - The necessity of preserving himself from sudden death—the Irish - outside car on which he was driving was the worst specimen he had yet seen—absorbed - all his thoughts when he had passed through the village of Ballycruiskeen; - and by the time he had got out of the train that carried him to the East - Coast—a matter of six hours travelling—and aboard the steamer - that bore him to Glasgow, the exultation that he had felt on leaving - Castle Innisfail, and on reflecting upon the great happiness that had come - to him, was considerably chastened. - </p> - <p> - He was due at two houses in Scotland. At the first he meant to do a little - shooting. The place was not inaccessible. After a day’s travelling he - found himself at a railway station fifteen miles from his destination. He - eventually reached the place, however, and he had some shooting, which, - though indifferent, was far better than it was possible to obtain on Lord - Innisfail’s mountains—at least for Lord Innisfail’s guests to - obtain. - </p> - <p> - The second place was still further north—it was now and again - alluded to as the North Pole by some visitors who had succeeded in finding - their way to it, in spite of the directions given to them by the various - authorities on the topography of the Highlands. Several theories existed - as to the best way of reaching this place, and Harold, who knew sufficient - Scotch to be able to take in the general meaning of the inhabitants - without the aid of an interpreter, was made aware while at the shooting - lodge, of these theories. Hearing, however, that some persons had actually - been known to find the place, he felt certain that they had struck out an - independent course for themselves. It was incredible to him that any of - them had reached it by following the directions they had received on the - subject. He determined to follow their example; and he had reached the - place—eventually. - </p> - <p> - It was when he had been for three days following a stag, that he began to - think of his own matters in a dispassioned way. Crawling on one’s stomach - along a mile or two of boggy land and then wriggling through narrow spaces - among the rocks—sitting for five or six hours on gigantic sponges - (damp) of heather, with one’s chin on one’s knees for strategical - purposes, which the gillies pretend they understand, but which they keep a - dead secret—shivering as the Scotch mist clothes one as with a wet - blanket, then being told suddenly that there is a stag thirty yards to - windward—getting a glimpse of it, missing it, and then hearing the - gillies exchanging remarks in a perfectly intelligible Gaelic regarding - one’s capacity—these incidents constitute an environment that tends - to make one look dispassionately upon such marvels as Harold had been - considering in a very different spirit while the Irish lough was yet - within hearing. - </p> - <p> - On the third day that he had been trying to circumvent the stag, Harold - felt despondent—not about the stag, for he had long ago ceased to - take any interest in the brute—but about his own future. - </p> - <p> - It is to be regretted (sometimes) that an exchange of sentiments on the - subject of love between lovers does not bring with it a change of - circumstances, making possible the realization of a scheme of life in - which those sentiments shall play an active part—or at least as - active a part as sentiments can play. This was Harold’s great regret. - Since he had found that he loved Beatrice and that Beatrice loved him, the - world naturally appeared lovelier also. But it was with the loveliness of - a picture that hangs in a public gallery, not as an individual possession. - </p> - <p> - His material circumstances, so far from having improved since he had - confessed to Edmund Airey that it was necessary for him to marry a woman - with money, had become worse; and yet he had given no thought to the young - woman with the money, but a great many thoughts to the young woman who - had, practically, none. He felt that no more unsatisfactory state of - matters could be imagined. And yet he felt that it would be impossible to - take any steps with a view of bringing about a change. - </p> - <p> - He had received several letters from Beatrice, and he had written several - to her; but though in more than one he had told her in that plain strain - which one adopts when one does not desire to be in any way convincing, - that it was a most unfortunate day for her when she met him, still he did - not suggest that their correspondence should cease. - </p> - <p> - What was to be the end of their love? - </p> - <p> - It was the constant attempt to answer this question that gave the stag his - chance of life when, on the afternoon of the third day, Harold was - commanded by his masters the gillies to fire into that thickening in the - mist which he was given to understand by an unmistakable pantomime, was - the stag. - </p> - <p> - While the gillies were exchanging their remarks in Gaelic, flavouring them - with very smoky whiskey, he was thinking, not of the escape of the stag, - but of what possible end there could be to the love that existed between - Beatrice and himself. - </p> - <p> - It was the renewed thinking upon this question that brought about the - death of that particular stag and two others before the next evening, for - he had arrived at a point when he felt that he must shoot either a stag or - himself. He had arrived at a condition of despair that made pretty severe - demands upon him. - </p> - <p> - The slaughter of the stags saved him. When he saw their bodies stretched - before him he felt exultant once more. He felt that he had overcome his - fate; and it was the next morning before he realized the fact that he had - done nothing of the sort—that the possibility of his ever being able - to marry Beatrice Avon was as remote as it had been when he had fired - blindly into the mist, and his masters, who had carried the guns, - exhausted (he believed) the resources, of Gaelic sarcasm in comment. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXVIII.—ON ENJOYING A RESPITE. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was the first - week in October when Harold Wynne found himself in London. He had got a - letter from Beatrice in which she told him that she and her father would - return to London from Holland that week. Mr. Avon had conscientiously - followed the track of an Irish informer in whom he was greatly interested, - and who had, at the beginning of the century, found his way to Holland, - where he was looked upon as a poor exile from Erin. He had betrayed about - a dozen of his fellow-countrymen to their enemies, and had then returned - to Ireland to live to an honoured old age on the proceeds of the bargain - he had made for their heads. - </p> - <p> - The result of Harold’s consideration of the position that he occupied in - regard to Beatrice, was this visit to London. He made up his mind that he - should see her and tell her that, like Mrs. Browning’s hero, he loved her - so well that he only could leave her. - </p> - <p> - He could bring himself to do it, he felt. He believed that he was equal to - an act of heroic self-sacrifice for the sake of the girl—that was - how he put the matter to himself when being soaked on the Scotch mountain. - Yes, he would go to her and tell her that the conclusion to which he had - come was that they must forget one another—that only unhappiness - could result from the relationship that existed between them. He knew that - there is no more unsatisfactory relationship between a man and a woman - than that which has love for a basis, but with no prospect of marriage; - and he knew that so long as his father lived and continued selfish—and - only death could divide him from his selfishness—marriage with - Beatrice was out of the question. - </p> - <p> - It was with this resolution upon him that he drove to the address in the - neighbourhood of the British Museum, where Beatrice said she was to be - found with her father. - </p> - <p> - It was one of those mansions which at some period in the early part of the - century had been almost splendid; now it was simply large. It was not the - house that Harold would have cared to occupy, even rent free—and - this was a consideration to him. But for a scholar who had a large library - of his own, and who found it necessary to be frequently in the - neighbourhood of the larger Library at the Museum, the house must - undoubtedly have had its advantages. - </p> - <p> - She was not at home. The elderly butler said that Mr. Avon had found it - necessary to visit Brussels for a few days, and he had thus been delayed - on the Continent beyond the date he had appointed for his return. He would - probably be in England by the end of the week—the day was Wednesday. - </p> - <p> - Harold left the gloom of Bloomsbury behind him, feeling a curious - satisfaction at having failed to see Beatrice—the satisfaction of a - respite. Some days must elapse before he could make known his resolution - to her. - </p> - <p> - He strolled westward to a club of which he was a member—the Bedouin, - and was about to order dinner, when someone came behind him and laid a - hand, by no means gently, on his shoulder. Some of the Bedouins thought it - <i>de rigueur</i> to play such pranks upon each other; and, to do them - justice, it was only rarely that they dislocated a friend’s shoulder or - gave a nervous friend a fit. People said one never knew what was coming - from the moment they entered the Bedouin Club, and the prominent Bedouins - accepted this statement as embodying one of the most agreeable of its many - distinctive features. - </p> - <p> - Harold was always prepared for the worst in this place, so when the force - of the blow swung him round and he saw an extremely plain arrangement of - features, distorted by a smile of extraordinary breadth, beneath a - closely-cropped crown of bright red hair, he merely said, “Hallo, Archie, - you here? I thought you were in South Africa lion-hunting or something.” - </p> - <p> - The smile that had previously distorted the features of the young man, was - of such fulness that it might reasonably have been taken for granted that - it could not be increased; the possessor showed, however, that that smile - was not the result of a supreme effort. So soon as Harold had spoken he - gave a wink, and that wink seemed to release the mechanical system by - which his features were contorted, for in an instant his face became one - mouth. In plain words, this mouth of the young man had swallowed up his - other features. All that could be seen of his face was that enormous mouth - flanked by a pair of enormous ears, like plantain leaves growing on each - side of the crater of a volcano. - </p> - <p> - Harold looked at him and laughed, then picked up a <i>menu</i> card and - studied it until he calculated that the young man whom he had addressed as - Archie should have thrown off so much of his smile as would enable him to - speak. - </p> - <p> - He gave him plenty of time, and when he looked round he saw that some of - the young man’s features had succeeded in struggling to the surface, as it - were, beneath the circular mat of red hair that lay between his ears. - </p> - <p> - “No South Africa for me, tarty chip,” said Archie. (“Tarty chip” was the - popular term of address that year among young men about town. Its - philological significance was never discovered.) - </p> - <p> - “No South Africa for me; I went one better than that,” continued the young - man. - </p> - <p> - “I doubt it,” said Harold. “I’ve had my eye on you until lately. You have - usually gone one worse. Have you any money left—tell the truth?” - </p> - <p> - “Money? I asked the tarty chips that look after that sort of thing for me - how I stood the other day,” said Archie, “and I’m ashamed to say that I’ve - been spending less than my income—that is until a couple of months - ago. I’ve still about three million. What does that mean?” - </p> - <p> - “That you’ve got rid of about a million inside two years,” said Harold. - </p> - <p> - “You’re going it blind,” said Archie. “It only means that I’ve spent fifty - decimals in eighteen months. I can spare that, tarty chip.” (It may - possibly be remembered that in the slang of the year a decimal signified a - thousand pounds.) “That means that you’ve squandered a fortune, Archie,” - said Harold, thinking what fifty thousand pounds would mean to him. - </p> - <p> - “There’s not much of a squander in the deal when I got value for it,” said - Archie. “I got plenty of value. I’ve got to know all about this world.” - </p> - <p> - “And you’ll soon get to know all about the next, if you go on at this - rate,” said Harold. - </p> - <p> - “Not me; I’ve got my money in sound places. You heard about my show.” - </p> - <p> - “Your show? I’ve heard about nothing for the past year but your shows. - What’s the latest? I want something to eat.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, come with me to my private trough,” cried the young man. “Don’t lay - down a mosaic pavement in your inside in this hole. Come along, tarty - chip; I’ve got a <i>chef</i> named Achille—he knows what suits us—also - some ‘84 Heidsieck. Come along with me, and I’ll tell you all about the - show. We’ll go there together later on. We’ll take supper with her.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh! with her?” - </p> - <p> - “To be sure. You don’t mean to say that you haven’t heard that I’ve taken - the Legitimate Theatre for Mrs. Mowbray? Where on God’s footstool have you - been for the past month?” - </p> - <p> - “Not further than the extreme North of Scotland. It was far enough. I saw - a paragraph stating that Mrs. Mowbray, after being a failure in a number - of places, had taken the Legitimate. What has that got to say to you?” - </p> - <p> - “Not much, but I’ve got a good deal to say to it. Oh, come along, and I’ll - tell you all about it. I’m building a monument for myself. I’ve got the - Legitimate and I mean to make Irving and the rest of them sit up.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXIX.—ON THE ADVANTAGES OF READY MONEY. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>RCHIE BROWN was - the only son of Mr. John Brown, the eminent contractor. Mr. John Brown had - been a man of simple habits and no tastes. When a working navvy he had - acquired a liking for oatmeal porridge, and up to the day of his death, - when he had some twenty thousand persons in his employment, each of them - earning money for him, he never rose above this comestible. He lived a - thoroughly happy life, taking no thought about money, and having no idea, - beyond the building of drinking fountains in his native town, how to spend - the profits realized on his enormous transactions. - </p> - <p> - Now, as the building of even the most complete system of drinking - fountains, in a small town in Scotland, does not produce much impression - upon the financial position of a man with some millions of pounds in cash, - and making business profits to the extent of two hundred thousand a year, - it was inevitable that, when a brick one afternoon fell on Mr. John - Brown’s head and fractured his skull so severely as to cause his death, - his only son should be left very well provided for. - </p> - <p> - Archie Brown was left provided with some millions in cash, and with - property that yielded him about one hundred pounds a day. - </p> - <p> - Up to the day of his father’s death he had never had more than five - hundred a year to spend as pocket-money—he had saved even out of - this modest sum, for he had scarcely any more expensive tastes than his - father, though he had ever regarded <i>sole à la Normande</i> as more - palatable than oatmeal porridge as a breakfast dish. - </p> - <p> - He had never caused his father a moment’s uneasiness; but as soon as he - was given a bird’s eye view, so to speak, of his income, he began to ask - himself if there might not be something in the world more palatable even - than <i>sole à la Normande</i>. - </p> - <p> - In the course of a year or two he had learned a good deal on the subject - of what was palatable and what was not; for from the earliest records it - is understood that the knowledge of good and the knowledge of evil may be - found on the one tree. - </p> - <p> - He began to be talked about, and that is always worth paying money for—some - excellent judges say that it is the only thing worth paying money for. - Occasionally he paid a trifle over the market price for this commodity. - But then he knew that he generally paid more than the market price for - everything that he bought, from his collars, which were unusually high, - down to his boots, which were of glazed kid, so that he did not complain. - </p> - <p> - He found that, after a while, the tradespeople, seeing that he paid them - cash, treated him fairly, and that the person who supplied him with cigars - was actually generous when he bought them by the thousand. - </p> - <p> - People who at first had fancied that Mr. Archibald Brown was a plunger—that - is, a swindler whom they could swindle out of his thousands—had - reason to modify their views on the subject after some time. For six - months he had been imposed upon in many directions. But with all the other - things which had to be paid for, the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of - Good and Evil should, he knew, be included. Imported in a fresh condition - this was, he knew, expensive; but he had a sufficient acquaintance with - the elements of fruit-culture to be well aware of the fact that in this - condition it is worth very much more than the canned article. - </p> - <p> - He bought his knowledge of good and evil fresh. - </p> - <p> - He was no fool, some people said, exultantly. - </p> - <p> - These were the people whose friends had tried to impose on him but had not - succeeded. - </p> - <p> - He was no fool, some people said regretfully. - </p> - <p> - These were the people who had tried to impose on him but had not - succeeded. - </p> - <p> - Harold had always liked Archie Brown, and he had offered him much advice—vegetarian - banquets of the canned fruit of the Tree of Knowledge. The shrewd - outbursts of confidence in which Archie indulged now and again, showed - Harold that he was fast coming to understand his position in society—his - friends and his enemies. - </p> - <p> - Harold, after some further persuasion, got into the hansom which Archie - had hailed, and was soon driving down Piccadilly to the spacious rooms of - the latter—rooms furnished in a wonderful fashion. As a panorama of - styles the sitting-room, which was about thirty feet square, with a - greenhouse in the rear, would have been worth much to a lecturer on the - progress or decadence of art—any average lecturer could make the - furniture bear out his views, whether they took one direction or the - other. - </p> - <p> - Two cabinets which had belonged to Louis XV were the finest specimens - known in the world. They contained Sèvres porcelain and briar-root pipes. - A third cabinet was in the purest style of boarding house art. A small - gilt sofa was covered with old French tapestry which would have brought - five pounds the square inch at an auction. Beside it was the famous - Four-guinea Tottenham Armchair in best Utrecht velvet—three-nine-six - in cretonne, carriage paid to any railway-station in the United Kingdom. - </p> - <p> - A chair, the frame of which was wholly of ivory, carved in Italy, in the - seventeenth century, by the greatest artist that ever lived, apparently - had its uses in Archie Brown’s <i>entourage</i>, for it sustained in an - upright position a half-empty soda-water bottle—the bottle would not - have stood upright but for the high relief in the carving of the flowing - hair of the figure of Atalanta at one part of the frame. Near it was an - interesting old oak chair that was for some time believed to have once - belonged to King Henry VIII. - </p> - <p> - In achieving this striking contrast to the carved ivory, Mr. Brown thought - that he had proved his capacity to appreciate an important element in - artistic arrangement. He pointed it out to Harold without delay. He had - pointed it out to every other person who had visited his rooms. - </p> - <p> - He also pointed out a picture by one Rembrandt which he had picked up at - an auction for forty shillings. A dealer had subsequently assured him that - if he wanted a companion picture by the same painter he would not - guarantee to procure it for him at a lower figure than twenty-five guineas—perhaps - it might even cost him as high as thirty; therefore—the logic was - Archie’s—the Rembrandt had been a dead bargain. - </p> - <p> - Harold looked at this Burgomaster’s Daughter in eighteenth century - costume, and said that undoubtedly the painter knew what he was about. - </p> - <p> - “And so does Archie, tarty chip,” said his host, leading him to one of the - bedrooms. - </p> - <p> - “Now it’s half past seven,” said Archie, leaving him, “and dinner will be - served at a quarter to eight. I’ve never been late but once, and Achille - was so hurt that he gave me notice. I promised that it should never occur - again, and it hasn’t. He doesn’t insist on my dressing for dinner, though - he says he should like it.” - </p> - <p> - “Make my apologies to Achille,” said Harold. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, that won’t be necessary,” said Archie seriously—“at least I - think it won’t.” - </p> - <p> - Harold had never been in these rooms before—he wondered how it had - chanced that he came to them at all. But before he had partaken of more - than one of the <i>hors d’ouvres</i>—there were four of them—he - knew that he had done well to come. Achille was an artist, the Sauterne - was Chateau Coutet of 1861, and the champagne was, as Archie had promised - it should be, Heidsieck of 1884. The electric light was artfully toned - down, and the middle-aged butler understood his business. - </p> - <p> - “This is the family trough,” said Archie. “I say, Harry, isn’t it one - better than the oatmeal porridge of our dads—I mean of my dad; - yours, I know, was always one of us; my dad wasn’t, God bless him! If he - had been we shouldn’t be here now. He’d have died a pauper.” - </p> - <p> - Harold so far forgot himself as to say, “Doesn’t Carlyle remark somewhere - that it’s the fathers who work that the sons—ah, never mind.” - </p> - <p> - “Carlyle? What Carlyle was that? Do I know him?” asked Archie. - </p> - <p> - “No,” said Harold, shaking his head. - </p> - <p> - “He isn’t a tarty chip, eh?” - </p> - <p> - “Tart, not tarty.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh. Don’t neglect this jelly. It’s the best thing that Achille does. It’s - the only thing that he ever repeats himself in. He came to me boasting - that he could give me three hundred and sixty-five different dinners in - the year. ‘That’s all very well,’ said I, ‘but what about Leap Year?’ I - showed him there that his bluff wouldn’t do. ‘Pass’ said I, and he passed. - But we understand one another now. I will say that he has never repeated - himself except in this jelly. I make him give it to me once a week.” - </p> - <p> - “You’re right,” said Harold. “It is something to think about.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, while you’re in front of it, but never after,” said Archie. “That’s - what Achille says. ‘The true dinner,’ says he, ‘is the one that makes you - think while you’re at it, but that never causes you a thought - afterwards.’” - </p> - <p> - “Achille is more than an artist, he is a philosopher,” said Harold. “What - does he call this?” he glanced at the menu card. “‘<i>Glace à la chagrin - d’Achille</i>’ What does he mean by that? ‘The chagrin of Achilles’? Where - does the chagrin come in?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, he has some story about a namesake of his,” said Archie. “He was cut - up about something, and he wouldn’t come out of the marquee.” - </p> - <p> - “The tent,” cried Harold. “Achilles sulked in his tent. Of course, that’s - the ‘<i>chagrin d’Achille</i>.’” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, you heard of it too? Then the story has managed to leak out somehow. - They always do. There’s nothing in it. Now I’ll tell you all about the - show. Try one of these figs.” - </p> - <p> - Harold helped himself to a green fig, the elderly butler placed a decanter - of claret on the table, and disappeared with the noiselessness of a - shadow. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXX.—ON THE LEGITIMATE IN ART. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HEN the history of - the drama in England during the last twenty years of the nineteenth - century comes to be written, the episode of the management of the - Legitimate Theatre by Mrs. Mowbray will doubtless be amply treated from - the standpoint of art, and the historian will, it may be confidently - expected, lament the want of appreciation on the part of the public for - the Shakespearian drama, to which the closing of the Legitimate Theatre - was due. - </p> - <p> - There were a considerable number of persons, however, who showed a - readiness to assert that the management of the Legitimate by Mrs. Mowbray - should be looked upon as a purely—only purely was not the word they - used—social incident, having no basis whatever in art. It failed, - they said, not because the people of England had ceased to love - Shakespeare, but because Mr. Archie Brown had ceased to love Mrs. Mowbray. - </p> - <p> - However this may be, there were also people who said that the Legitimate - Theatre under the management of Mrs. Mowbray could not have been so great - a financial failure, after all; for Mrs. Mowbray, when her season came to - an end, wore as expensive dresses as ever, and drove as expensive horses - as ever; and as everyone who had been associated with the enterprise had - been paid—some people said overpaid—the natural assumption was - that Shakespeare on the stage was not so abhorrent to the people of - England as was generally supposed. - </p> - <p> - The people who took this view of the matter were people who had never - heard the name of Mr. Archie Brown—people who regarded Mrs. Mowbray - as a self-sacrificing lady who had so enthusiastic a desire to make the - public acquainted with the beauties of Shakespeare, that she was quite - content to spend her own fortune (wherever that came from) in producing - “Cymbeline” and other masterpieces at the Legitimate. - </p> - <p> - There were other people who said that Archie Brown was a young ass. - </p> - <p> - There were others who said that Mrs. Mowbray was a harpy. - </p> - <p> - There were others still—they were mostly men—who said that - Mrs. Mowbray was the handsomest woman in England. - </p> - <p> - The bitterest—they were mostly women—said that she was both - handsome and a harpy. - </p> - <p> - The truth regarding the difficult question of the Legitimate Theatre was - gathered by Harold Wynne, as he swallowed his claret and ate his olives at - the dining table at Archie Birown’s rooms in Piccadilly. - </p> - <p> - He perceived from what Archie told him, that Archie had a genuine - enthusiasm in the cause of Shakespeare. How he had acquired it, he might - have had considerable difficulty in explaining. He also gathered that Mrs. - Mowbray cared very little for Shakespeare except as a medium for - impressing upon the public the fact—she believed it to be a fact—that - Mrs. Mowbray was the most beautiful woman in England. - </p> - <p> - “Cymbeline” had, she considered, been written in the prophetic instinct, - which the author so frequently manifested, that one day a woman with such - shapely limbs as Mrs. Mowbray undoubtedly possessed, might desire to - exhibit them to the public of this grand old England of Shakespeare’s and - ours. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Mowbray was probably the most expensive taste that any man in England - could entertain. - </p> - <p> - All this Harold gathered from the account of the theatrical enterprise, as - communicated to him by Archie after dinner. - </p> - <p> - And the best of it all was, Archie assured him, that no human being could - say a word against the character of Mrs. Mowbray. - </p> - <p> - “I never heard a word against the character of her frocks,” said Harold. - </p> - <p> - “It’s a big thing, the management of the Legitimate,” said Archie, - gravely. - </p> - <p> - “No doubt; even when it’s managed, shall we say, legitimately?” said - Harold. - </p> - <p> - “I feel the responsibility, I can tell you,” said Archie. “Shakespeare has - never been given a proper chance in England; and although she’s a year or - two older than me, yet on the box seat of my coach she doesn’t look a day - over twenty-two—just when a woman is at her best, Harry. What I want - to know is, shall it be said of us that Shakespeare—the immortal - Shakespeare, mind you—Stratford upon Avon, you know—” - </p> - <p> - “I believe I have his late address,” said Harold. - </p> - <p> - “That’s all right. But what I want to know is, shall it be said that we - are willing to throw our Shakespeare overboard? In the scene in the front - of the cave she is particularly fine.” - </p> - <p> - In an instant Harold’s thoughts were carried back to a certain scene in - front of a cave on a moonlight night; and for him the roar of life through - Piccadilly was changed to the roar of the Atlantic. His thoughts remained - far away while Archie talked gravely of building himself a monument by his - revival of “Cymbeline”, with which the Legitimate had been opened by Mrs. - Mowbray. Of course, the thing hadn’t begun to pay yet, he explained. - Everyone knew that the Bicycle had ruined theatrical business in London; - but the Legitimate could fight even the Bicycle, and when the public had - the beauty of Mrs. Mowbray properly impressed upon them, Shakespeare would - certainly obtain that recognition which he deserves from England. Were - Englishmen proud of Shakespeare, or were they not? that was what Archie - wished very much to know. If the people of your so-called British Islands - wish to throw Shakespeare overboard, just let them say so. But if they - threw him over, the responsibility would rest with them; Mrs. Mowbray - would still be the handsomest woman in England. At any rate, “Cymbeline” - at the Legitimate would be a monument. - </p> - <p> - “As a lighthouse is a monument,” said Harold, coming back from the Irish - lough to Piccadilly. - </p> - <p> - “I knew you’d agree with me,” said Archie. “You know that I’ve always had - a great respect for your opinion, Harry. I don’t object so much as some - tarty chips to your dad. I wish he’d see Mrs. Mowbray. There’s no vet. - whose opinion I’d sooner take on the subject than his. He’d find her all - right.” - </p> - <p> - Harold looked at the young man whose plain features—visible when he - did not smile too broadly—displayed the enthusiasm that possessed - him when he was fancying that his devotion to the beauty of Mrs. Mowbray - was a true devotion to Shakespeare. Archie Brown, he was well aware, was - very imperfectly educated. - </p> - <p> - He was not, however, much worse than the general run of people. Like them - he knew only enough of Shakespeare to be able to misquote him now and - again; and, like them, he believed that. Darwinism meant nothing more than - that men had once been monkeys. - </p> - <p> - Harold looked at Archie, and felt that Mrs. Mowbray was a fortunate woman - in having met with him. The monument was being raised, Harold felt; and he - was right. The management of the Legitimate-Theatre was a memorial to - Vanity working heart, and soul with Ignorance to the praise and glory of - Shakespeare. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXI.—ON A BLACK SHEEP. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span> EFORE Archie had - completed his confidences, a visitor was announced. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, it’s only old Playdell,” said Archie. “You know old Playdell, of - course.” - </p> - <p> - “I’m not so certain that I do,” said Harold. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, he’s a good old soul who was kicked out of the Church by the bishop - for doing something or other. He’s useful to me—keeps my - correspondence in order—spots the chaps that write the begging - letters, and sees that they don’t get anything out of me, while he takes - care that all the genuine ones get all that they deserve. He’s an Oxford - man.” - </p> - <p> - “Playdell—Playdell,” said Harold. “Surely he can’t be the fellow - that got run out for marrying people without a licence?” - </p> - <p> - “That’s his speciality,” said Archie. “Come along, chippie Chaplain. Chip - in, and have a glass of something.” - </p> - <p> - A middle-aged man, wearing the coat and the tie of a cleric, entered the - room with a smile and a bow to Harold. - </p> - <p> - “You’ve heard of Mr. Wynne, Play?” said Archie. “The Honourable Harold - Wynne. He’s heard of you—yes, you bet your hoofs on that.” - </p> - <p> - “I dare say you’ve heard of me, Mr. Wynne,” said the man. “It’s the black - sheep in a flock that obtain notoriety; the colourless ones escape notice. - I’m a black sheep.” - </p> - <p> - “You’re about as black as they make them, old Play,” remarked Archie, with - a prompt and kindly acquiescence. “But your blackness doesn’t go deeper - than the wool.” - </p> - <p> - “You say that because you are always disposed to be charitable, Archie,” - said Mr. Playdell. “Even with you I’m afraid that another notorious - character is not so black as he’s painted.” - </p> - <p> - “Neither he is,” said Archie. “You know as well as I do that the devil is - not so black as he used to be—he’s turning gray in his old age.” - </p> - <p> - “They treated me worse than they treated the Fiend himself, Mr. Wynne,” - said Playdell. “They turned me out of the Church, but the Church still - retains the Prince of Darkness. He is still the most powerful auxiliary - that the Church knows.” - </p> - <p> - “If you expressed that sentiment when in orders,” said Harold, “I can - quite easily understand how you find yourself outside the Church.” - </p> - <p> - “I was quite orthodox when in the Church, Mr. Wynne. I couldn’t afford to - be otherwise,” said Playdell. “I wasn’t even an Honest Doubter. I felt - that if I had begun to doubt I might become a Dissenter before I knew what - I was about. It is only since I left the Church that I’ve indulged in the - luxury of being unorthodox.” - </p> - <p> - “Take a glass of wine for your stomach’s sake,” said Archie. - </p> - <p> - “That lad is the son of a Scotch Nonconformist,” said Mr. Playdell to - Harold; “hence the text. Would it be unorthodox to say that an inscrutable - Providence did not see fit to preserve the reply of Timothy to that - advice? For my own part I cannot doubt for a moment that Timothy inquired - for what other reason his correspondent fancied he might take the wine. I - like my young patron’s La Rose. It must have been something very different - from this that the person alluded to when he said ‘my love is better than - wine.’ Yes, I’ve always thought that the truth of the statement was - largely dependent on the wine.” - </p> - <p> - “I’ll take my oath that isn’t orthodox,” said Archie. “You’d better mind - what you’re about, chippie Chaplain, or I’ll treat you as the bishop did. - This is an orthodox household, let me tell you.” - </p> - <p> - “I feel like Balaam’s ass sometimes, Mr. Wynne, in this situation,” said - Mr. Playdell. “In endeavouring to avoid the angel with the sword on one - hand—that is the threatening orthodoxy of the Church—I make - myself liable to a blow from the staff of the prophet—our young - friend is the prophet.” - </p> - <p> - “I will say this for you, chippie Chaplain,” said Archie, “you’ve kept me - straight. Not that I ever did take kindly to the flowing bowl; but we all - know what temptations there are.” He looked into his glass and spoke - solemnly, shaking his head. “Yes, Harry, I’ve never drunk a thimbleful - more than I should since old Play here lectured me.” - </p> - <p> - “If I could only persuade you—‘’commenced Mr. Playdell. - </p> - <p> - “But I’m not such an ass,” cried Archie, interrupting him. Then he turned - to Harold, saying, “The chippie Chaplain wants to marry me to some one - whose name we never mention. That has always been his weakness—marrying - tarty chips that he had no right to marry.” - </p> - <p> - “If I don’t mistake, Mr. Playdell, it was this little weakness that - brought you to grief,” said Harold. - </p> - <p> - “It was the only point that the bishop could lay hold of, Mr. Wynne,” said - Playdell. “I held, and I still hold, that the ceremony of marriage may be - performed by any person who has been ordained—that the question of a - licence is not one that should come forward upon any occasion. Those who - hold other opinions are those who would degrade the ordinance into a mere - civil act.” - </p> - <p> - “And you married without question every couple who came to you, I - believe?” said Harold. - </p> - <p> - “I did, Mr. Wynne. And I will be happy to marry any other couples who come - to me for that purpose now.” - </p> - <p> - “But, you are no longer in the Church, and such marriages would be no - marriages in the eyes of the law.” - </p> - <p> - “Nothing can be more certain, Mr. Wynne. But I know that there are many - persons in this country who hold, with me, that the ordinance is not one - that should be made the subject of a licence bought from a bishop—who - hold that the very act of purchase is a gross degradation of the ordinance - of God.” - </p> - <p> - “I say, chippie Chaplain, haven’t we had enough of that?” said Archie. - “You’ve pegged away at that marriage business with me for a good many - months. Now, I say, pass the marriage business. Let us have a fresh deal.” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Wynne, I merely wished to explain my position to you,” said Playdell. - “I’m on the side of the angels in this question, as a great statesman but - a poor scientist said of another question.” - </p> - <p> - “Pass the statesman as well,” cried Archie. - </p> - <p> - “What do tarty chips like us care for politics or other fads? He told me - the other day, Harry, that instead of introducing a bill for the admission - of ladies as members of Parliament, it would soon be necessary to - introduce a bill for the admission of gentlemen as members—yes, you - said that. You can’t deny it.” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t,” said Mr. Playdell. “The result of the last General Election—” - </p> - <p> - “Pass the General Election,” shouted Archie. “Mr. Wynne hates that sort of - thing. Now give an account of yourself. What have you done to earn your - screw since morning?” - </p> - <p> - “This is what I have come to, Mr. Wynne,” said Playdell. “Think of it; a - clergyman and M.A. Oxon, forced to give an account of his stewardship to a - young cub like that!” He laughed after a moment of seriousness. - </p> - <p> - “You don’t seem to feel deeply the degradation,” remarked Harold. - </p> - <p> - “It’s nothing to the depths to which I have fallen,” said Mr. Playdell. “I - was never more than a curate, but in spite of the drawback of being - privileged to preach the Gospel twice a week, the curacy was a comfortable - one. I published two volumes of my sermons, Mr. Wynne. They sold poorly in - England, but I believe that in America they made the fortune of the - publishers that pirated them. It is perfectly well known that my sermons - achieved a great and good purpose in the States. They were practical. I - will say that for them. The leader of the corner in hogs who ran the - prices up last autumn, sold out of the business, I understand, after - reading my sermon on the text, ‘The husks that the swine do eat.’ Several - judges also resigned, admitting that they were converted. It was freely - stated that even a Congressman had been reformed by one sermon of mine, - while another was known to have brought tears to the eyes of a reporter on - the <i>New York Herald</i>. And yet, with all these gratifying results, I - never got a penny out of the American edition. Just think what would - happen on this side of the Atlantic if, let us say, a Royal Academician - were to find grace through a sermon, or—to assume an extreme case—a - member of the Stock Exchange? Why, the writer would be a made man. I had - thoughts of going to America, Mr. Wynne. At any rate, I’m going to deal - with the publishers there directly. A firm in Boston is at present about - to boom a Bowdlerized edition of the Bible which I have prepared for - family reading in the States—not a word in it that the purest-minded - young woman in all Boston might not see. It should sell, Mr. Wynne. I’m - also translating into English a volume of American humour.” - </p> - <p> - “I’ll give you a chance of going to America, before you sleep if you don’t - dry up about your sermons and suchlike skittles,” said Archie. “The - decanter’s beside you. Fill your glass. Mr. Wynne is coming to my show - to-night.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Playdell passed the decanter without filling his glass. “You know that - I never take more than one glass of La Rose,” said he. “I have found out - all about your house painter who fell off the ladder and broke all his - ribs—he is the same as your Clergyman’s Orphan, and he lives in the - same house as your Widow of a Naval Officer whose little all was invested - in a fraudulent building society—he is also ‘First Thessalonians - seven and ten. P.O.O. or stamps’.” - </p> - <p> - “Great Godfrey!” cried Archie; “and I had already written out a cheque for - twenty pounds to send to that swindler! Do you mean to tell me, Play, that - all those you’ve mentioned are impostors?” - </p> - <p> - “All? Why, there’s only one impostor among the lot,” said Mr. Playdell. - “He is ‘First Thessalonians,’ and he has at least a dozen branch - establishments.” - </p> - <p> - “It’s enough to make a tarty chip disgusted with God’s footstool,” said - Archie. “Before old Play took me in hand I used to fling decimals about - right and left, without inquiry.” - </p> - <p> - “He was the sole support of several of the most notorious swindlers in the - country,” said Mr. Playdell. “I’ve managed to whittle them down - considerably. Shakespeare is at present the only impostor that has defied - my efforts,” he added, in a whisper to Harold. - </p> - <p> - Harold laughed. He was beginning to feel some remorse at having previously - looked on Archie Brown as a good-natured fool. He now felt that, in spite - of Mrs. Mowbray, he would not wreck his life. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXII.—ON SHAKESPEARE AND SUPPER. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">C</span>ARRIAGES by the - score were waiting at the fine Corinthian entrance to the Legitimate, when - Harold and Archie reached the theatre in their hansom. The <i>façade</i> - of the Legitimate Theatre is so severely Corinthian that foreign visitors - invariably ask what church it is. - </p> - <p> - It was probably the classical columns supporting the pediment of the - entrance that caused Archie to abate his frivolous conversation with his - friend in the hansom—Archie had been expressing the opinion that it - was exhilarating—only exhilarating was not the word he used—to - swear at a man who had once been a clergyman and who still wore the dress - of a cleric. “A chap feels that his turn has come,” he had said. “No - matter how wrong they are you can’t swear at them and tell them to come - down out of that, when they’re in their own pulpits—they’d have you - up for brawling. That’s why I like to take it out of old Playdell. He - tells me, however, that there’s no dean in the Church that gathers in the - decimals as he does in my shop. But, bless you! he saves me his screw - three times over.” - </p> - <p> - But now that the classical front of the Legitimate came in view, Archie - became solemn. - </p> - <p> - He possibly appreciated the feelings of a conscientious clergyman when - about to enter his Church. - </p> - <p> - Shakespeare was a great responsibility. - </p> - <p> - So was Mrs. Mowbray. - </p> - <p> - The performance was not quite over; but before Archie had paid the - hansomeer, the audience was streaming out from every door. - </p> - <p> - “Stand here and listen to what the people are saying.” whispered Archie. - “I often do it. It is only in this way that you can learn how much - appreciation for Shakespeare still remains in England.” - </p> - <p> - He took up his position with Harold at the foot of the splendid staircase - of the theatre, where the people chatted together while waiting for their - carriages. - </p> - <p> - With scarcely an exception, the remarks had a hearing upon the performance - of “Cymbeline.” Only two ladies confined their criticisms to their - respective medical advisers. - </p> - <p> - Of the others, one man said that Mrs. Mowbray bore a striking resemblance - to her photographs. - </p> - <p> - A second said that she was the most beautiful woman in England. - </p> - <p> - A third said that she knocked sparks out of Polly Floss in the same line - of business. (Polly Floss was the leading exponent of burlesque). - </p> - <p> - One woman said that Mrs. Mowbray was most picturesquely dressed. - </p> - <p> - A second said that she was most picturesquely undressed. - </p> - <p> - A third wondered if Liberty had got the exact tint of the robe that Mrs. - Mowbray had worn in the second act. - </p> - <p> - “And yet some people say that there’s no appreciation of Shakespeare in - England!” said Archie, as he led Harold round the stalls, over which the - attendants were spreading covers, and on to Mrs. Mowbray’s private rooms. - </p> - <p> - “From the crowds that went out by every door, I judge that the theatre is - making money, at any rate; and I suppose that’s the most practical test of - appreciation,” said Harold. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, they don’t all pay,” said Archie. “That’s a feature of theatrical - management that it takes an outsider some time to understand. Mrs. Mowbray - should understand it pretty well by this time, so should her business - manager. I’m just getting to understand it.” - </p> - <p> - “You mean to say that the people are allowed to come in without paying?” - </p> - <p> - “It amounts to that in the long run—literally the long run—of - the piece, I believe. Upon my soul, there are some people who fancy that a - chap runs a show as a sort of free entertainment for the public. The - dramatic critics seem to fancy that a chap produces a play, simply in - order to give them an opportunity of showing off their own cleverness in - slating it. It seems that a writer-chap can’t show his cleverness in - praising a piece, but only in slanging it.” - </p> - <p> - “I think that I’d try and make people pay for their seats.” - </p> - <p> - “I used always to pay for mine in the old days—but then, I was - always squandering my money.” - </p> - <p> - “I have always paid for mine.” - </p> - <p> - “The manager says that if you asked people to pay, they’d be mortally - offended and never enter the theatre again, and where would you be then?” - </p> - <p> - “Where, indeed?” said Harold. “I expect your manager must know his - business thoroughly.” - </p> - <p> - “He does. It requires tact to get people to come to see Shakespeare,” said - Archie. “But a chap can’t build a monument for himself without paying for - it.” - </p> - <p> - “It would be ridiculous to expect it,” said Harold. - </p> - <p> - Pushing aside a magnificent piece of heavy drapery, Archie brought his - friend into a passage illuminated by the electric light; and knocking at a - door at the farther end, he was admitted by Mrs. Mowbray’s maid, into a - prettily-furnished sitting-room and into the presence of Mrs. Mowbray, who - was sitting robed in something very exquisite and cloud-like—not - exactly a peignoir but something that suggested a peignoir. - </p> - <p> - She was like a picture by Romney. If one could imagine all the charm of - all the pictures of Emma Hamilton (<i>née</i> Lyon) which Romney painted, - meeting harmoniously in another creature, one would come within reasonable - distance of seeing Mrs. Mowbray, as Harold saw her when he entered the - room. - </p> - <p> - Even with the disadvantage of the exaggerated colour and the - over-emphasized eye-lashes necessary for the searching illumination of the - footlights, she was very lovely, Harold acknowledged. - </p> - <p> - But all the loveliness of Mrs. Mowbray produced but a trifling effect - compared to that produced by her charm of manner. She was the most natural - woman ever known. - </p> - <p> - The position of the natural man has been defined by an eminent authority. - But who shall define the position of the natural woman? - </p> - <p> - It was Mrs. Mowbray’s perfect simplicity, especially when talking to men—as - a matter of fact she preferred talking to men rather than to women—that - made her seem so lovely—nay, that made a man feel that it was good - for him to be in her presence. She was devoid of the smallest trace of - affectation. She seemed the embodiment of truth. She never smiled for the - sake of conventionality. But when she did smile, just as Harold entered - the room, her head turning round so that her face was looking over her - shoulder, she had all the spiritual beauty of the loveliest picture ever - painted by Greuze, consequently the loveliest picture ever painted by the - hand of man. - </p> - <p> - And yet she was so very human. - </p> - <p> - An Algy and an Eddy were already in the room—the first was a - Marquis, the second was the eldest son of a duke. Both were handsome lads, - of quiet manners, and both were in the Household Cavalry. Mrs. Mowbray - liked to be surrounded by the youngest of men. - </p> - <p> - Harold had been acquainted with her long before she had become an actress. - He had not had an opportunity of meeting her since; but he found that she - remembered him very well. - </p> - <p> - She had heard of his father, she said, looking at him in a way that did - not in the least suggest a picture by Greuze. - </p> - <p> - When people referred to his father they did not usually assume a look of - innocence. Most of them would have had difficulty in assuming such a look - under any circumstances. - </p> - <p> - “My father is frequently heard of,” said Harold. - </p> - <p> - “And your father’s son also,” said Mrs. Mowbray. “What a freak of Lady - Innisfail’s! She lured you all across to Ireland. I heard so much. And - what came of it, after all?” - </p> - <p> - “Acute admiration for the allurements of Lady Innisfail in my case, and a - touch of acute rheumatism in my father’s case,” said Harold. - </p> - <p> - “Neither will be fatal to the sufferers,” said Mrs. Mowbray—“or to - Lady Innisfail, for that matter,” she added. - </p> - <p> - “I should say not,” remarked Algy. “We all admire Lady Innisfail.” - </p> - <p> - “Few cases of acute admiration of Lady Innisfail have proved fatal, so far - as I can hear, Lord Brackenthorpe,” said Mrs. Mowbray. “Young mem have - suffered from it and have become exemplary husbands and parents.” - </p> - <p> - “And if they don’t live happy, that we may,” said Archie. - </p> - <p> - “That’s the end of the whole matter,” said. Harold. - </p> - <p> - “That’s the end of the orthodox fairy tale,” said Mrs. Mowbray. “Was your - visit to Ireland a fairy story, Mr. Wynne?” - </p> - <p> - Harold wondered how much this woman knew of the details of his visit to - Ireland. Before he-could think of an answer in the same strain, Mrs. - Mowbray had risen from the little gilt sofa, and had taken a step or two - toward her dressing-room. The look she tossed to Harold, when she turned - round with her fingers on the handle of the door, was a marvellous one. - </p> - <p> - Had it been attempted by any other woman, it would have provoked derision - on the part of the average man—certainly on the part of Harold - Wynne. But, coming from Mrs. Mowbray, it conveyed—well, all that she - meant it to convey. It was not merely fascinating, it was fascination - itself. - </p> - <p> - It was such a look as this, he felt—but nearly a year had passed - before he had thought of the parallel—that Venus had cast at Paris - upon a momentous occasion. It was the glance of Venus Victrix. It made a - man think—a year or so afterwards—of Ahola and Aholibah, of - Ashtoreth, of Cleopatra, of Faustina, of Iseult, of Rosamond. - </p> - <p> - And yet the momentary expression of her features was as simple and as - natural as that worn by one of Greuze’s girls. - </p> - <p> - “She’ll not be more than ten minutes,” said - </p> - <p> - Archie. “I don’t know how she manages to dress herself in the time.” - </p> - <p> - He did not exaggerate. Mrs. Mowbray returned in ten minutes, with no trace - of paint upon her face, wearing a robe that seemed to surround her with - fleecy clouds. The garment was not much more than an atmosphere—it - was a good deal less substantial than the atmosphere of London in December - or that of Sheffield in June. - </p> - <p> - “We shall have the pleasantest of suppers,” she said, “and the pleasantest - of chats. I understand that Mr. Wynne has solved the Irish problem.” - </p> - <p> - “And what is the solution, Mrs. Mowbray?” said Lord Brackenthorpe. - </p> - <p> - “The solution—ah—‘a gray eye or so’,” said Mrs. Mowbray. - </p> - <p> - The little Mercutio swagger with which she gave point to the words, was - better than anything she had done on the stage. - </p> - <p> - “And now, Mr. Wynne, you must lead the way with me to our little - supper-room,” said she, before the laugh, in which everyone joined, at the - pretty bit of comedy, had ceased. - </p> - <p> - Harold gave her his arm. - </p> - <p> - When at the point of entering the room—it was daintily furnished - with old English oak and old English silver—Mrs. Mowbray said, in - the most casual way possible, “I hope you will tell me all that may be - told about that charming White Lady of the Cave. How amusing it must have - been to watch the chagrin of Lord Fotheringay, when Mr. Airey gave him to - understand that he meant to make love to that young person with the - wonderful eyes.” - </p> - <p> - “It was intensely amusing, indeed,” said Harold, who had become prepared - for anything that Mrs. Mowbray might say. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, you must have been amused; for, of course, you knew that Mr. Airey - was not in earnest—that he had simply been told off by Miss Craven - to amuse himself with the young person, in order to induce her to take her - beautiful eyes off—off—someone else, and to turn them - admiringly upon Mr. Airey.” - </p> - <p> - “That was the most amusing part of the comedy, of course,” said Harold. - </p> - <p> - “What fools some girls are!” laughed Mrs. Mowbray. It was well known that - she disliked the society of women. - </p> - <p> - “It’s a wise provision of nature that the fools should be the girls.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I have known a fool or two among men,” said Mrs. Mowbray, with - another laugh. - </p> - <p> - “Have known—did you say <i>have known?</i>” said Harold. - </p> - <p> - “Any girl who has lived in this world of ours for a quarter of a century, - should have seen enough to make her aware of the fact that the best way to - set about increasing the passion of, let us say, the average man—” - </p> - <p> - “No, the average man is passionless.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, the passion of whatever man you please—for a young woman whom - he loves, or fancies he loves—it’s all the same in the end—is - to induce him to believe that several other men are also in love with - her.” - </p> - <p> - “That is one of the rudiments of a science of which you are the leading - exponent,” said Harold. - </p> - <p> - “And yet Miss Craven was foolish enough to fancy that the man of whom she - was thinking, would give himself up to think of her so soon as he believed - that Mr. Airey was in love with her rival! Ah, here are our lentils and - pulse. How good it is of you to imperil your digestions by taking supper - with me, when only a few hours can have passed since you dined.” - </p> - <p> - “Digestion is not an immortal soul,” said Harold, “and I believe that - immortal souls have been imperilled before now, for the sake of taking - supper with the most beautiful woman in the world.” - </p> - <p> - “Have you ever heard a woman say that I am beautiful?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - “Never,” said Harold. “That is the one sin which a woman never pardons in - another.” - </p> - <p> - “You do not know women—” with a little pitying smile. “A woman will - forgive a woman for being more beautiful than herself—for being less - virtuous than herself, but never for being better-dressed than herself.” - </p> - <p> - “For how many of the three sins do you ask forgiveness of woman—two - or three?” said Harold, gently. - </p> - <p> - But instead of making an answer, Mrs. Mowbray said something about the - necessity of cherishing a digestion. It was disgraceful, she said, that - bread-and-butter and arithmetic should be forced upon a school boy—that - such magnificent powers of digestion as he possessed should not be - utilized ta the uttermost. - </p> - <p> - Lord Brackenthorpe said he knew a clever artist chap, who had drawn a - sketch of about a thousand people crowding over one another, in an - American hotel, in order to see a boy, who had been overheard asking his - mother what was the meaning of the word dyspepsia. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Mowbray wondered if the melancholy of Hamlet was due to a weak - digestion. - </p> - <p> - Harold said he thought it should rather be accepted as evidence that there - was a Schleswig-Holstein question even in Hamlet’s day. - </p> - <p> - Meantime, the pheasants and sparkling red Burgundy were affording - compensation for the absence of any brilliant talk. - </p> - <p> - Then the young men lit their cigarettes. Mrs. Mowbray had never been known - to risk her reputation (for femininity) by letting a cigarette between her - lips; but her femininity was in no way jeopardized—rather was it - accentuated—by her liking to be in the neighbourhood of where - cigarettes were being smoked—that is, when the cigarettes were good - and when the smokers were pleasant young men with titles, or even - unpleasant young men with thousands. - </p> - <p> - After the lapse of an hour, a message came regarding Mrs. Mowbray’s - brougham. Her guests rose and she looked about for her wrap. - </p> - <p> - While Harold Wynne was laying it on her lovely shoulders, she kept her - eyes fixed upon his. Hers were full of intelligence. When he had carefully - fastened the gold clasp just beneath the hollow of her throat—it - required very careful handling—she poised her head to the extent of - perhaps a quarter of an inch to one side, and laughed; then she moved away - from him, but turned her head so that her face was once more over her - shoulder, like the face of the Greuze girl from whom she had learnt the - trick. - </p> - <p> - He knew that she wanted him to ask her from whom she had heard the stories - regarding Castle Innisfail and its guests. - </p> - <p> - He also knew that the reason she wanted him to ask her this question, was - in order that she might have the delight of refusing to answer him, while - keeping him in the expectancy of receiving an answer. - </p> - <p> - Such a delight would, of course, be a malicious one. But he knew that it - would be a thoroughly womanly one, and he knew that Mrs. Mowbray was a - thorough woman. - </p> - <p> - Therefore he laughed back at her and did not ask her anything—not - even to take his arm out to her brougham. - </p> - <p> - Archie Brown did, and she took his arm, still looking over her shoulder at - Harold. - </p> - <p> - It only needed that the lovely, wicked look should vanish in a sentence. - </p> - <p> - And it did. - </p> - <p> - The full lips parted, and the poise of the head was increased by perhaps - the eighth part of an inch. - </p> - <p> - “‘A gray eye or so,’” she murmured. - </p> - <p> - Her laughter rang down the corridor. - </p> - <p> - “And the best of it all is, that no one can say a word against her - character,” said Archie. - </p> - <p> - This was the conclusion of his rhapsody in the hansom, in which he and - Harold were driving down Piccadilly—a rhapsody upon the beauty, the - genius, and the expensiveness of Mrs. Mowbray. - </p> - <p> - Harold was silent. The truth was that he was thinking about something far - apart from Mrs. Mowbray, her beauty, her doubtful genius, and her - undoubted power of spending money. - </p> - <p> - “What do you say?” said Archie. “Great Godfrey! you don’t mean to say that - you’ve heard a word breathed against her character?” - </p> - <p> - “On the contrary,” said Harold, “I’ve always heard it asserted that Mrs. - Mowbray is the best dressed woman in London.” - </p> - <p> - “Give me your hand, old chap; I knew that I could trust you to do her - justice,” cried Archie. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXIII.—ON BLESSING OR DOOM. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">E</span>VEN before he - slept, Harold Wynne found that he had a good many matters to think about, - in addition to the exquisitely natural poises of Mrs. Mowbray’s shapely - head. - </p> - <p> - It was apparent to him that Mrs. Mowbray had somehow obtained a - circumstantial account of the appearance of Beatrice Avon at the Irish - Castle, and of the effect that had been produced, in more than one - direction, by her appearance. - </p> - <p> - But the most important information that he had derived from Mrs. Mowbray - was that which had reference to the attitude of Edmund Airey toward - Beatrice. - </p> - <p> - Undoubtedly, Mrs. Mowbray had, by some means, come to be possessed of the - truth regarding the apparent fascination which Beatrice had for Edmund - Airey. It was a trick—it was the result of a conspiracy between - Helen Craven and Edmund, in order that he, Harold, should be prevented - from even telling Beatrice that he loved her. Helen had felt certain that - Beatrice, when she fancied—poor girl!—that she had produced so - extraordinary an impression upon the wealthy and distinguished man, would - be likely to treat the poor and undistinguished man, whose name was Harold - Wynne, in such a way as would prevent him from ever telling her that he - loved her! - </p> - <p> - And Edmund had not hesitated to play the part which Helen had assigned to - him! For more than a moment did Harold feel that his friend had behaved in - a grossly dishonourable way. But he knew that his friend, if taxed with - behaving dishonourably, would be ready to prove—if he thought it - necessary—that, so far from acting dishonourably, he had shown - himself to be Harold’s best friend, by doing his best to prevent Harold - from asking a penniless girl to be his wife. Oh, yes, Mr. Edmund Airey - would have no trouble in showing, to the satisfaction of a considerable - number of people—perhaps, even to his own satisfaction—that he - was acting the part of a truly conscientious; and, perhaps, a - self-sacrificing friend, by adopting Helen Craven’s suggestion. - </p> - <p> - Harold felt very bitter toward his friend Edmund Airey; though it was - unreasonable for him to do so; for had not he come to precisely the same - conclusion as his friend in respect of Beatrice, this conclusion being, of - course, that nothing but unhappiness could be the result of his loving - Beatrice, and of his asking Beatrice to love him? - </p> - <p> - If Edmund Airey had succeeded in preventing him from carrying out his - designs, Harold would be saved from the necessity of having with Beatrice - that melancholy interview to which he was looking forward; therefore it - was unreasonable for him to entertain any feeling of bitterness toward - Edmund. - </p> - <p> - But for all that, he felt very bitterly toward Edmund—a fact which - shows that, in some men as well as in all women, logic is subordinate to - feeling. - </p> - <p> - It was also far from logical on his part to begin to think, only after he - had accused his friend of dishonourable conduct, of the source whence the - evidence upon which he had founded his accusation, was derived. - </p> - <p> - How had Mrs. Mowbray come to hear how Edmund Airey had plotted with Helen - Craven, he asked himself. He began to wonder how she could have heard - about the gray eyes of Beatrice, to which she had alluded more than once, - with such excellent effect from the standpoint of art. From whom could she - have heard so much? - </p> - <p> - She certainly did not hear it from Mr. Durdan, even if she was acquainted - with him, which was doubtful; for Mr. Durdan was discreet. Besides, Mr. - Durdan was rarely eloquent on any social subject. He was the sort of man - who makes a tour on the Continent and returns to tell you of nothing - except a flea at Bellaggio. - </p> - <p> - Was it possible that some of the fishing men had been taking notes unknown - to any of their fellow guests, for the benefit of Mrs. Mowbray? - </p> - <p> - Harold did not think so. - </p> - <p> - After some time he ceased to trouble himself with these vain speculations. - The fact—he believed it to be a fact—remained the same: - someone who had been at Castle Innisfail had given Mrs. Mowbray a highly - circumstantial account of certain occurrences in the neighbourhood of the - Castle; and if Mrs. Mowbray had received such an account, why might not - anyone else be equally favoured? - </p> - <p> - Thus it was that he strayed into new regions of speculation, where he - could not possibly find any profit. What did it matter to him if everyone - in London knew that Edmund Airey had plotted with Helen Craven, to prevent - an impecunious man from marrying a penniless girl? All that remained for - him to do was to go to the girl, and tell her that he had made a mistake—that - he would be asking her to make too great a sacrifice, were he to hold her - to her promise to love him and him only. - </p> - <p> - It was somewhat curious that his resolution in this matter should be - strengthened by the fact of his having learned that Edmund Airey had not - been in earnest, in what was generally regarded at Castle Innisfail as an - attitude of serious, and not merely autumn, love-making, in respect of - Beatrice. - </p> - <p> - He did not feel at all annoyed to learn that, if he were to withdraw from - the side of Beatrice, his place would not be taken by that wealthy and - distinguished man, Edmund Airey. When he had at first made up his mind to - go to Beatrice and ask her to forget that he had ever told her that he - loved her, he had had an uneasy feeling that his friend might show even a - greater interest than he had done on the evening of the <i>tableaux</i> at - the Castle, in the future movements of Beatrice. - </p> - <p> - At that time his resolution had not been overwhelming in its force. But - now that Mrs. Mowbray had made that strange communication—it almost - amounted to a revelation—to him, he felt almost impatient at the - delay that he knew there must be before he could see the girl and make his - confession to her. - </p> - <p> - He had two more days to think over his resolution, in addition to his - sleepless night after receiving Mrs. Mowbray’s confidences; and the result - of keeping his thoughts in the one direction was, that at last he had - almost convinced himself that he was glad that the opportunity had arrived - for him to present himself to the girl, in order to tell her that he would - no longer stand in the way of her loving someone else. - </p> - <p> - When he found himself in her presence, however, his convictions on this - particular point were scarcely so strong as they might have been. - </p> - <p> - She was sitting in front of the fire in the great drawing-room that - retained all the original decorations of the Brothers Adam, and she was - wearing something beautifully simple—something creamy, with old - lace. The furniture of the room also belonged to the period of the Adams, - and on the walls were a number of coloured engravings by Bartolozzi after - Cipriani and Angelica Kauffmann. - </p> - <p> - She was in his arms in a moment. She gave herself to him as naturally and - as artlessly as though she were a child; and he held her close to him, - looking down upon her face without uttering a word—kissing her mouth - conscientiously, her shell-pink cheeks earnestly, her forehead - scrupulously, and her chin playfully. - </p> - <p> - This was how he opened the interview which he had arranged to part them - for ever. - </p> - <p> - Then they both drew a long breath simultaneously, and both laughed in - unison. - </p> - <p> - Then he held her away from him for a few seconds, looking upon her - exquisite face. Again he kissed her—but this time solemnly and with - something of the father about the action. - </p> - <p> - “At last—at last,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “At last,” she murmured in reply. - </p> - <p> - “It seems to me that I have never seen you before,” said he. “You seem to - be a different person altogether. I do not remember anything of your face, - except your eyes—no, by heavens! your eyes are different also.” - </p> - <p> - “It was dark as midnight in the depths of that seal-cave,” she whispered. - </p> - <p> - “You mean that—ah, yes, my beloved! If I could have seen your eyes - at that moment I know I should have found them full of the light that I - now see in their depths. You remember what I said to you on the morning - after your arrival at the Castle? Your eyes meant everything to me then—I - knew it—beatitude or doom.” - </p> - <p> - “And you know now what they meant?” - </p> - <p> - He looked at her earnestly and passionately for some moments. Then his - hands dropped suddenly as though they were the hands of a man who had died - in a moment—his hands dropped, he turned away his face. - </p> - <p> - “God knows, God knows,” he said, with what seemed like a moan. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” she said; “God knows, and you know as well as God that in my heart - there is nothing that does not mean love for you. Does love mean blessing - or doom?” - </p> - <p> - “God knows,” said he again. “Your love should mean to me the most blessed - thing on earth.” - </p> - <p> - “And your love makes me most blessed among women,” said she. - </p> - <p> - This exchange of thought could scarcely be said to make easier the task - which he had set himself to do before nightfall. - </p> - <p> - He seemed to become aware of this, for he went to the high mantelpiece, - and stood with his hands upon it, earnestly examining the carved marble - frieze, cream-tinted with age, which was on a level with his face. - </p> - <p> - She knew, however, that he was not examining the carving from the - standpoint of a critic; and she waited silently for whatever was coming. - </p> - <p> - It came when he ceased his scrutiny of the classical figures in high - relief, that appeared upon the marble slab. - </p> - <p> - “Beatrice, my beloved,” said he, and her face brightened. Nothing that - commenced with the assumption that she was his beloved could be very bad. - “I have been in great trouble—I am in great trouble still.” - </p> - <p> - She was by his side in a moment, and had taken one of his hands in hers. - She held it, looking up to his face with her eyes full of sympathy and - concern. - </p> - <p> - “My dearest,” he said, “you are all that is good and gracious. We must - part, and for ever.” - </p> - <p> - She laughed, still looking at his face. There really was something - laughable in the sequence of his words. But her laugh did not make his - task any easier. - </p> - <p> - “When I told you that I loved you, Beatrice, I told you the truth,” said - he. “If I were to tell you anything else now it would be a falsehood. But - I had no right ever to speak to you of love. I am absolutely penniless.” - </p> - <p> - “That is no confession,” said she. “I knew all along that you were - dependent upon your father for everything. I felt for you—so did Mr. - Airey.” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Airey?” said he. “Mr. Airey mentioned to you that I was a beggar?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, he didn’t say that. He only said—what did he say?—something - about the affairs of the world being very badly arranged, otherwise you - should have thousands—oh, he said he felt for you with all his - heart.” - </p> - <p> - “‘With all his appreciation of the value of an opportunity,’ he should - have said. Never mind Edmund Airey. You, yourself, can see, Beatrice, how - impossible it would be for any man with the least sense of honour, - situated as I am, to ask you to wait—to wait for something - indefinite.” - </p> - <p> - “You did not ask me to wait for anything. You did not ask me to wait for - your love—you gave it to me at once. There is nothing indefinite in - love.” - </p> - <p> - “My Beatrice, you cannot think that I would ask you for your love without - hoping to marry you?” - </p> - <p> - “Then let us be married to-morrow.” - </p> - <p> - She did not laugh, speaking the words. He could see that she would not - hesitate to marry him at any moment. - </p> - <p> - “Would to heaven that we could be, my dearest! But could there be anything - more cruel than for a penniless man, such as I am, to ask a girl, such as - you are, to marry him?” - </p> - <p> - “I cannot see where the cruelty would be. People have been very happy - together before now, though they have had very little money between them.” - </p> - <p> - “My dear Beatrice, you were not meant to pass your life in squalid - lodgings, with none of the refinements of life around you; and I—well, - I have known what roughing it means; I would face the worst alone; but I - am not selfish enough to seek to drag you down to my level—to ask - you to face hardship for my sake.” - </p> - <p> - “But I——” - </p> - <p> - “Do not say anything, darling: anything that you may say will only make it - the harder to part. I can do it, Beatrice; I am strong enough to say - good-bye.” - </p> - <p> - “Then say it, Harold.” - </p> - <p> - She stood facing him, with her wonderful eyes looking steadily into his. - The message that they conveyed to him was such as he could not fail to - read aright. He knew that if he had said goodbye, he would never have a - chance of looking into those eyes again. - </p> - <p> - And yet he made the attempt to speak—to say the word that she had - challenged him to utter. His lips were parted for more than a moment. He - suddenly dropped her hand—he had been holding it all the time—and - turned away from her with a passionate gesture. - </p> - <p> - “I cannot say it—God help me! I cannot say good-bye,” he cried. - </p> - <p> - He had flung himself into a sofa and had buried his face in his hands. - </p> - <p> - For a short time he had actually felt that he was desirous to part from - her. For some minutes he had been quite sincere. The force of the words he - had made use of to show Beatrice how absolutely necessary it was that they - should part, had not been felt by her; those words had, however, affected - him. He had felt—for the first time, in spite of his previous - self-communing—that he must say good-bye to her, but he found that - he was too weak to say it. - </p> - <p> - He felt a hand upon his shoulder. He could feel her gracious presence near - to him, before her voice came. - </p> - <p> - “Harold,” she said, “if you had said it, I should never have had an hour’s - happiness in my life. I would never have seen you again. I felt that all - the happiness of my life was dependent upon your refraining from speaking - those words. Cannot you see, my love, that the matter has passed out of - our hands—that it is out of our power to part now? Harold, cannot - you see that, let it be for good or evil—for heaven or doom—we - must be together? Whatever is before us, we are not two but one—our - lives are joined beyond the power of separation. I am yours; you are - mine.” - </p> - <p> - He sprang to his feet. He saw that tears were in her eyes. “Let it be so,” - he cried. “In God’s name let it be so. Whatever may happen, no suggestion - of parting shall come from me. We stand together, and for ever, Beatrice.” - </p> - <p> - “For ever and ever,” she said. - </p> - <p> - That was how their interview came to a close. - </p> - <p> - Did he know when he had set out for her home that this would be the close - of their interview—this clasping of the hands—this meeting of - the lips? - </p> - <p> - Perhaps he did not. But one thing is certain: if it had not had this - ending, he would have been greatly mortified. - </p> - <p> - His vanity would have received a great blow. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXIV.—ON THE MESSAGE OF THE LILY. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>ALKING Westward to - his rooms, he enjoyed once again the same feeling of exultation, which had - been his on the evening of the return from the seal-hunt. He felt that she - was wholly his. - </p> - <p> - He had done all that was in his power to show her how very much better it - would be for her to part from him and never to see him again—how - much better it would be for her to marry the wealthy and distinguished man - who had, out of the goodness of his heart, expressed to her a deep - sympathy for his, Harold’s, unfortunate condition of dependence upon a - wicked father. But he had not been able to convince her that it would be - to her advantage to adopt this course. - </p> - <p> - Yet, instead of feeling deeply humiliated by reason of the failure of his - arguments, he felt exultant. - </p> - <p> - “She is mine—she is mine!” he cried, when he found himself alone in - his room in St. James’s. “There is none like her, and she is mine!” - </p> - <p> - He reflected for a long time upon her beauty. He thought of Mrs. Mowbray, - and he smiled, knowing that Beatrice was far lovelier, though her - loveliness was not of the same impressive type. One did not seem to - breathe near Beatrice that atmosphere heavy with the scent of roses, which - Mrs. Mowbray carried with her for the intoxication of the nations. Still, - the beauty of Beatrice was not a tame thing. It had stirred him, and it - had stirred other men. - </p> - <p> - Yes, it had stirred Edmund Airey—he felt certain of it, although he - did not doubt the truth of Mrs. Mowbray’s communication on this subject. - </p> - <p> - Even though Edmund Airey had been in a plot with Helen, still Harold felt - that he had been stirred by the beauty of Beatrice. - </p> - <p> - He thought over this point for some time, and the conclusion that he came - to was, that he could easily find out if Edmund meant to play no more - important a <i>rôle</i> than that of partner in Helen Craven’s plot. It - was perfectly clear, that if Edmund had merely acted as he had done at the - suggestion of Helen, he would cease to take any further interest in - Beatrice, unless it was his intention to devote his life to carrying out - the plot. - </p> - <p> - In the course of some weeks, he would learn all that could be known on - this point; but meantime his condition was a peculiar one. - </p> - <p> - He would have felt mortified had he been certain that Edmund Airey had not - really been stirred by the charm of Beatrice; but he would have been - somewhat uneasy had he felt certain that Edmund was deeply in love with - her. He trusted her implicitly—he felt certain of himself in this - respect. Had he not a right to trust her, after the way in which she had - spoken to him—the way in which she had given herself up to him? But - then he felt that he had made use of such definite arguments to her, in - pointing out the advisability of their parting, as caused it to be quite - possible that she might begin to perceive—after a year or two of - waiting—that there was some value in those arguments of his, after - all. - </p> - <p> - By the time that he had dined with some people, who had sent him a card on - his return to London, and had subjected himself to the mortifying - influence of some unfamiliar <i>entrées</i>, and a conversation with a - woman who was the survivor of the wreck of spiritualism in London, he was - no longer in the exultant mood of the afternoon. - </p> - <p> - “A Fool’s Paradise—a Fool’s Paradise!” he murmured, as he sat in an - easy-chair, and gazed into his flickering fire. - </p> - <p> - It had been very glorious to think that he was beloved by that exquisite - girl—to think of the kisses of her mouth; but whither was the love - leading him? - </p> - <p> - His father’s words could not be forgotten—those words which he had - spoken from beneath the eiderdown of his bed at Castle Innisfail; and - Harold knew that, should he marry Beatrice, his father would certainly - carry out his threat of cutting off his allowance. - </p> - <p> - Thus it was that he sat in his chair feeling that, even though Beatrice - had refused to be separated from him, still they were as completely parted - by circumstances as if she had immediately acknowledged the force of his - arguments, and had accepted, his invitation to say good-bye for ever. - </p> - <p> - Thus it was that he cried, “A Fool’s Paradise—a Fool’s Paradise!” as - he thought over the whole matter. - </p> - <p> - What were the exact elements of the Paradise in which his exclamation - suggested that he was living, he might have had some difficulty in - defining. - </p> - <p> - But then the site of the original Paradise is still a matter of - speculation. - </p> - <p> - The next day he went to take lunch with her and her father—he had - promised to do so before he had left her, when they had had their - interview. - </p> - <p> - It so happened, however, that he only partook of lunch with Beatrice; for - Mr. Avon had, he learned, been compelled to go to Dublin for some days, to - satisfy himself regarding a document which was in a library in that city. - </p> - <p> - Harold did not grumble at the prospect of a long afternoon by her side; - only he could not help feeling that the <i>ménage</i> of the Avon family - was one of the most remarkable that he had ever known. The historical - investigations of Mr. Avon did not seem to induce him to take a - conventional view of his obligations, as the father of an extremely - handsome girl—assuming that he was aware of the fact of her beauty—or - a pessimistic view of modern society. He seemed to allow Beatrice to be in - every way her own mistress—to receive whatever visitors she pleased; - and to lay no narrow-minded prohibition upon such an incident as lunching - <i>tête-à-tête</i> with a young man, or perhaps—but Harold had no - knowledge of such a case—an old man. - </p> - <p> - He wondered if the historian had ever been remonstrated with on this - subject, by such persons as had not had the advantage of scrutinizing - humanity through the medium of state papers. - </p> - <p> - Harold thought that, on the whole, he had no reason to take exception to - the liberality of Mr. Avon’s system. He reflected that it was to this - system he was indebted for what promised to be an extremely agreeable - afternoon. - </p> - <p> - What he did not reflect upon, however, was, that he was indebted to Mr. - Avon’s peculiarities—some people would undoubtedly call the system a - peculiar one—for a charmingly irresponsible relationship toward the - historian’s daughter. He did not reflect upon the fact, that if the girl - had had the Average Father, or the Vigilant Mother, to say nothing of the - Athletic Brother, he would not have been able, without some explanation, - to visit her, and, on the strength of promising to love her, to kiss her, - as he had now repeatedly done, on the mouth—or even on the forehead, - which is somewhat less satisfying. Everyone knows that the Vigilant Mother - would, by the application of a maternal thumb-screw which she always - carries attached to her bunch of keys, have extorted from Beatrice a full - confession as to the incidents of the seal-hunt—all except the - hunting of the seals—and that this confession would have led to a - visit to the study of the Average Father, in one corner of which reposes - the rack, in working order, for the reception of the suitor. Everyone - knows so much, and also that the alternative of the paternal rack, is the - fist of the Athletic Brother. - </p> - <p> - But Mr. Harold Wynne did not seem to reflect upon these points, when he - heard the lightly uttered excuses of Beatrice for her father’s absence, as - they seated themselves at the table in the large dining-room. - </p> - <p> - His practised eye made him aware of the fact that Beatrice understood what - he considered to be the essentials of a <i>recherché</i> lunch: a lunch - appeals to the eye; but wine appeals to other senses than the sense of - seeing; and the result of his judgment was to convince him that, if Mr. - Avon was as careless in the affairs of the cellar as he was in the affairs - of the drawing-room, he was to be congratulated upon having about him - someone who understood still hock at any rate. - </p> - <p> - In the drawing-room, she busied herself in arranging, in Wedgwood bowls, - some flowers that he had brought her—trifles of sprawling orchids, - Eucharis lilies, and a fairy tropical fern or two, all of which are quite - easy to be procured in London in October for the expenditure of a few - sovereigns. The picture that she made bending over her bowls was - inexpressibly lovely. He sat silent, watching her, while she prattled away - with the artless high spirits of a child. She was surely the loveliest - thing yet made by God. He thought of what the pious old writer had said - about a particular fruit, and he paraphrased it in his own mind, saying, - that doubtless God could make a lovelier thing, but certainly He had never - made it. - </p> - <p> - “I am delighted to have such sweet flowers now,” she cried, as she - observed, with critical eyes, the effect of a bit of flaming crimson—an - orchid suggesting a flamingo in flight—over the turquoise edge of - the bowl. “I am delighted, because I have a prospect of other visitors - beside yourself, my lord.” - </p> - <p> - “Other visitors?” said he. He wondered if he might venture to suggest to - her the inadvisability of entertaining other visitors during her father’s - absence. - </p> - <p> - “Other visitors indeed,” she replied. “I did not tell you yesterday all - that I had to tell. I forget now what we talked about yesterday. How did - we put in our time?” - </p> - <p> - She looked up with laughing eyes across the bowl of flowers, that she held - up to her face. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t forget—I shall never forget,” said he, in a low voice. - </p> - <p> - “You must never forget,” said she. “But to my visitors—who are they, - do you fancy? Don’t try to guess, for if you should succeed I should be - too mortified to be able to tell you that you were right. I will tell you - now. Three days ago—while we were still on the Continent—Miss - Craven called. She promised faithfully to do so at Castle Innisfail—indeed, - she suggested doing so herself; and I found her card waiting for me on my - return with a few words scrawled on it, to tell me that she would return - in some days. I don’t think that anything should be in the same bowl with - a Eucharis lily—even the Venus-hair fern looks out of place beside - it.” - </p> - <p> - She had strayed from her firebrand orchids to the white lilies. - </p> - <p> - “You are quite right, indeed,” said he. “A lily and you stand alone—you - make everything else in the world seem tawdry.” - </p> - <p> - “That is not the message of the lily,” said she. “But supposing that Miss - Craven should call upon me to-day—would you be glad of such a third - person to our party?” - </p> - <p> - “I should kill her, if she were a thousand times Helen Craven,” said he, - with a laugh. “But she is only one visitor; who are the others?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, there is only one other, and he is interesting to me only,” she - cried. “Yes, I found Mr. Airey’s card also waiting for me, and on it were - scrawled almost the very words that were on Miss Craven’s card, so that he - may be here at any moment.” Harold did not say a word. He sat watching her - as her hands mingled with their sister-lilies on the table. Something cold - seemed to have clasped his heart—a cold doubt that made him dumb. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” she continued; “Mr. Airey asked me one night at Castle Innisfail to - let him know where we should go after leaving Ireland.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said he, in a slow way; “I heard him make that request of you.” - </p> - <p> - “You heard him? But you were taking part in the <i>tableaux</i> in the - hall.” - </p> - <p> - “I had left the platform and had strayed round to one of the doors. You - told him where you were going?” - </p> - <p> - “I told him that we should be in this house in October, and he said that - he would make it a point to be in town early in October, though Parliament - was not to sit until the middle of January. He has kept his word.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, he has kept his word.” - </p> - <p> - Harold felt that cold hand tightening upon his heart. “I think that he was - interested in me,” continued the girl. “I know that I was interested in - him. He knows so much about everything. He is a close friend of yours, is - he not?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Harold, without much enthusiasm. “Yes, he was a close friend - of mine. You see, I had my heart set upon going into Parliament—upon - so humble an object may one’s aspirations be centred—and Edmund - Airey was my adviser.” - </p> - <p> - “And what did he advise you to do?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - “He advised me to—well, to go into Parliament.” He could not bring - himself to tell her what form exactly Edmund Airey’s advice had assumed. - </p> - <p> - “I am sure that his advice was good,” said she. “I think that I would go - to him if I stood in need of advice.” - </p> - <p> - “Would you, indeed, Beatrice?” said he. He was at the point of telling her - all that he had learned from Mrs. Mowbray; he only restrained himself by - an effort. - </p> - <p> - “I believe that he is both clever and wise.” - </p> - <p> - “The two do not always go together, certainly.” - </p> - <p> - “They do not. But Mr. Airey is, I think, both.” - </p> - <p> - “He has been better than either. To be successful is better than to be - either wise or clever. Mr. Airey has been successful. He will get an - Under-Secretaryship if the Government survives the want of confidence of - the Opposition.” - </p> - <p> - “And you will go into Parliament, Harold?” - </p> - <p> - He shook his head. - </p> - <p> - “That aspiration is past,” said he; “I have chosen the more excellent - career. Now, tell me something of your aspirations, my beloved.” - </p> - <p> - “To see you daily—to be near you—to—” - </p> - <p> - But the enumeration of the terms of her aspirations is unnecessary. - </p> - <p> - How was it that some hours after this, Harold Wynne left the house with - that cold feeling still at his heart? - </p> - <p> - Was it a pang of doubt in regard to Beatrice, or a pang of jealousy in - regard to Edmund Airey? - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXV.—ON THE HOME. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>AROLD WYNNE - remembered how he had made up his mind to judge whether or not Edmund - Airey had been simply playing, in respect of Beatrice, the part which, - according to Mrs. Mowbray’s story, had been assigned to him by Helen - Craven. He had made up his mind that unless Edmund Airey meant to go much - further than—according to Mrs. Mowbray’s communication—Helen - Craven could reasonably ask him to go, he would not take the trouble to - see Beatrice again. - </p> - <p> - Helen could scarcely expect him to give up his life to the furtherance of - her interests with another man. - </p> - <p> - Well, he had found that Edmund, so far from showing any intention of - abandoning the position—it has already been defined—which he - had assumed toward Beatrice, had shown, in the plainest possible way, that - he did not mean to lose sight of her. - </p> - <p> - And for such a man as he was, to mean so much, meant a great deal, Harold - was forced to acknowledge. - </p> - <p> - He spent the remainder of the day which had begun so auspiciously, - wondering if his friend, Edmund Airey, meant to tell Beatrice some day - that he loved her, and, what was very much more important, that he was - anxious to marry her. - </p> - <p> - And then that unworthy doubt of which he had become conscious, returned to - him. - </p> - <p> - If Edmund Airey, who, at first, had merely been attracted to Beatrice with - a view of furthering what Helen Craven believed to be her interests, had - come to regard her differently—as he, Harold, assumed that he had—might - it not be possible, he asked himself, that Beatrice, who had just admitted - that she had always had some sort of admiration for Edmund Airey, would———- - </p> - <p> - “Never, never, never!” he cried. “She is all that is good and true and - faithful. She is mine—altogether mine!” - </p> - <p> - But his mind was in such a condition that the thought which he had tried - to crush down, remained with him to torture him. - </p> - <p> - It should not have been a torturing thought, considering that, a few days - before, he had made up his mind that it was his duty to relinquish - Beatrice—to go to her and bid her good-bye for ever. To be sure, he - had failed to realize this honourable intention of his; but what was - honourable at one time was honourable at another, so that the thought of - something occurring to bring about the separation for which he had - professed to be so anxious, should not have been a great trouble to him—it - should have been just the contrary. - </p> - <p> - The next day found him in the same condition. The thought occurred to him, - “What if, at this very moment, Edmund Airey is with her, endeavouring to - increase that admiration which he must know Beatrice entertains for him?” - The thought was not a consoling one. Its effect was to make him think very - severely of the laxity of Mr. Avon’s <i>ménage</i>, which would make - possible such an interview as he had just imagined. It was a terrible - thing, he thought, for a father to show so utter a disregard for his - responsibilities as to——- - </p> - <p> - But here he reflected upon something that had occurred to him in - connection with <i>tête-à-tête</i> interviews, and he thought it better - not to pursue his course of indignant denunciation of the eminent - historian. - </p> - <p> - He put on an overcoat and went to pay a visit to his sister, who, he had - heard the previous day, was in town for a short time. In another week she - would be entertaining a large party for the pheasant-shooting at her - country-house in Brackenshire, and Harold was to be her guest as well as - Edmund Airey and Helen Craven. It was to this visit that Lord Fotheringay - had alluded in the course of his chamber interview with his son at Castle - Innisfail. - </p> - <p> - Harold had now made up his mind that he would not be able to join his - sister’s party, and he thought it better to tell her so than to write to - her to this effect. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Lampson was not at home, the servant said, when he had knocked at the - door of the house in Eaton Square. A party was expected for lunch, - however, so that she would probably return within half an hour. - </p> - <p> - Harold said he would wait for his sister, and went upstairs. - </p> - <p> - There was one person already in the drawingroom and that person was Lord - Fotheringay. - </p> - <p> - Harold greeted him, and found that he was in an extremely good humour. He - had never been in better health, he declared. He felt, he said, as young - as the best of them—he prudently refrained from defining them—and - he was still of the opinion that the Home—the dear old English Home—was - where true and lasting happiness alone was to be found; and he meant to - try the Principality of Monaco later on; for November was too awful in any - part of Britain. Yes, he had seen the influence of the Home upon exiles in - various parts of the world. Had he not seen strong men weep like children—like - innocent children—at the sight of an English post-mark—the - post-mark of a simple English village? Why had they wept, he asked his - son, with the well-gloved forefinger of the professional moralist - outstretched? - </p> - <p> - His son declined to hazard an answer. - </p> - <p> - They had wept those tears—those bitter tears—Lord Fotheringay - said, with solemn emphasis, because their thoughts went back to that - village home of theirs—the father, the mother, perhaps a sister—who - could tell? - </p> - <p> - “Ah, my boy,” he continued, “‘’Mid pleasures and palaces’—‘’mid - pleasures and’—by the way, I looked in at the Rivoli Palace last - night. I heard that there was a woman at that place who did a new dance. I - saw it. A new dance! My dear boy, it wasn’t new when I saw it first, and - that’s—ah, never mind—it’s some years ago. I was greatly - disappointed with it. There’s nothing indecent in it—I will say that - for it—but there’s nothing enlivening. Ah, the old home of burlesque—the - old home—that’s what I was talking about—the Home—the - sentiment of the Home—” - </p> - <p> - “Of burlesque?” suggested Harold. - </p> - <p> - “Of the devil, sir,” said his father. “Don’t try to be clever; it’s nearly - as bad as being insolent. What about that girl—Helen Craven, I mean? - Have you seen her since you came to town? She’s here. She’ll be at Ella’s - next week. Perhaps it will be your last chance. Heavens above! To think - that a pauper like you should need to be urged to marry such a girl! A - girl with two hundred thousand pounds in cash—a girl belonging to - one of the best families in all—in all Birmingham. Harold, don’t be - a fool! Such a chance doesn’t come every day.” - </p> - <p> - Just then Mrs Lampson entered the room and with her, her latest discovery, - the Coming Dramatist. - </p> - <p> - Mrs Lampson was invariably making discoveries. But they were mostly - discoveries of quartz; they contained a certain proportion of gold, to be - sure; but when it came to the crushing, they did not yield enough of the - precious metal to pay the incidental expenses of the plant for the - working. - </p> - <p> - She had discovered poets and poetesses—the latter by the score. She - had discovered at least one Genius in black and white—his genius - being testified by his refusal to work; and she had discovered a - pianoforte Genius—his genius being proved by the dishevelment of his - hair. The man who had the reputation for being the Greatest Living Atheist - was a welcome guest at her house, and the most ridiculous of living - socialists boasted of having dined at her table. - </p> - <p> - She was foremost in every philanthropic movement, and wrote articles to - the magazines, lamenting the low tone of modern society in London. - </p> - <p> - She also sneered (in private) at Lady Innisfail. Her latest discovery, the - Coming Dramatist, had had, he proudly declared, his plays returned to him - by the best managers in London, and by the one conscientious manager in - the United States—the last mentioned had not prepaid the postage, he - lamented. - </p> - <p> - He was a fearful joy to cherish; but Mrs. Lampson listened to his egotism - at lunch, and tried to prevent her other guests from listening to him. - </p> - <p> - They would not understand him, she thought, and she did not make a mistake - in this matter. - </p> - <p> - She got rid of him as soon as possible, and once more breathed freely. He - had not disgraced her—that was so much in his favour. The same could - not always be said of her discoveries. - </p> - <p> - The Christian Dynamitard was, people said, the only gentleman who had ever - been introduced ta society by Mrs. Lampson. - </p> - <p> - When Harold found his sister alone, he explained to her that it would be - impossible for him to join her party at Abbeylands—Mr. Lampson’s - Bracken-shire place—and his sister laughed and said she supposed - that he had something better on his hands. He assured her that he had - nothing better, only— - </p> - <p> - “There, there,” said she, “I don’t want you to invent an excuse. You would - only have met people whom you know.” - </p> - <p> - “Of course,” said Harold, “you’re not foolish enough to ask your - discoveries down to shoot pheasants. I should like to see some of them in - a <i>battue</i> with my best enemies. Yes, I’d hire a window, with - pleasure.” - </p> - <p> - “Didn’t he behave well—the Coming Dramatist?” said she, earnestly. - “You cannot say he didn’t behave well—at least for a Coming Person.” - </p> - <p> - “He behaved—wonderfully,” said Harold. “Good-bye.” - </p> - <p> - She followed him to the door of the room—nay, outside. - </p> - <p> - “By the bye,” said she, in a whisper; “do you know anything of a Miss - Avon?” - </p> - <p> - “Miss Avon?” said Harold. “Miss Avon. Why, if she is the daughter of - Julius Anthony Avon, the historian, we met her at Castle Innisfail. Why do - you ask me, Ella?” - </p> - <p> - “It is so funny,” said she. “Yesterday Mr. Airey called upon me, and - before he left he begged of me to call upon her, and even hinted—he - has got infinite tact—that she would make a charming addition to our - party at Abbeylands.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah,” said Harold. - </p> - <p> - “And just now papa has been whispering to me about this same Miss Avon. He - commanded me—papa has no tact—to invite her to join us for a - week. I wonder what that means.” - </p> - <p> - “What what means?” - </p> - <p> - “That—Mr. Airey and papa.” - </p> - <p> - “Great Heaven! Ella, what should it mean, except that two men, for whom we - have had a nominal respect, have gone over to the majority of fools?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, is that all? I was afraid that—ah, good-bye.” - </p> - <p> - “Good-bye.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXVI.—ON THE INFLUENCE OF A MAN OF THE WORLD. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t was true then—what - he had surmised was true! Edmund Airey had shown himself to be actuated by - a stronger impulse than a desire to assist Helen Craven to realize her - hopes—so much appeared perfectly plain to Harold Wynne, as he - strolled back to his rooms. - </p> - <p> - He was now convinced that Edmund Airey was serious in his attitude in - respect of Beatrice. At Castle Innisfail he had been ready enough to play - the game with counters, on his side at least, as stakes, but now he meant - to play a serious game. - </p> - <p> - Harold recalled what proofs he had already received, to justify his - arriving at this conclusion, and he felt that they were ample—he - felt that this conclusion was the only one possible to be arrived at by - anyone acquainted with all that had come under his notice. - </p> - <p> - He was quite astounded to hear from his sister that Edmund Airey had taken - so extreme a step as to beg of her to call upon Beatrice, and invite her - to join the Abbeylands party. Whether or not he had approached Mrs. - Lampson in confidence on this matter, the fact of his having approached - her was, in some degree, compromising to himself, and no one was better - aware of this fact than Edmund Airey. He was not an eager boy to give way - to a passion without counting the cost. There was no more subtle - calculator of costs than Edmund Airey, and Harold knew it. - </p> - <p> - What, then, was left for Harold to infer? - </p> - <p> - Nothing, except what he had already inferred. - </p> - <p> - What then was left for him to do to checkmate the man who was menacing - him? - </p> - <p> - He had lived so long in that world, the centre of which is situated - somewhere about Park Lane, and he had come to believe so thoroughly that - the leading characteristic of this world is worldliness, that he had lost - the capacity to trust anyone implicitly. He was unable to bring himself to - risk everything upon the chance of Beatrice’s loving him, in the face of - the worst that might occur. - </p> - <p> - Thus it was that the little feeling of distrust which he experienced the - previous day remained with him. It did not increase, but it was there. Now - and again he could feel its cold finger upon his heart, and he knew that - it was there. - </p> - <p> - He could not love with that blind, unreasoning, uncalculating love—that - love which knows only heaven and hell, not earth. That perfect love, which - casteth out distrust, was not the love of his world. - </p> - <p> - And thus it was that he walked to his rooms, thinking by what means he - could bind that girl to him, so that she should be bound beyond the - possibility of chance, or craft, or worldliness coming between them. - </p> - <p> - He had not arrived at any satisfactory conclusion on this subject when he - reached his rooms. - </p> - <p> - He was surprised to find waiting for him Mr. Playdell, but he greeted the - man cordially—he had acquired a liking for him, for he perceived - that, with all his eccentricities—all his crude theories that he - tried to vivify by calling them principles, he was still acting faithfully - toward Archie Brown, and was preventing him from squandering hundreds of - pounds where Archie might have squandered thousands. - </p> - <p> - “You are naturally surprised to see me, Mr. Wynne,” said Playdell. “I dare - say that most men would think that I had taken a liberty in making an - uninvited call like this.” - </p> - <p> - “I, at any rate, think nothing of the sort, Mr. Playdell,” said Harold. - </p> - <p> - “I am certain that you do not,” said Mr. Play-dell. “I am certain that you - are capable of doing me justice—yes, on some points.” - </p> - <p> - “I hope that I am, Mr. Playdell.” - </p> - <p> - “I know that you are, Mr. Wynne. You are not one of those silly persons, - wise in their own conceit, who wink at one another when my name is - mentioned, and suggest that the unfrocked priest is making a very fair - thing out of his young patron.” - </p> - <p> - “I believe that your influence over him is wholly for good, Mr. Playdell. - If he were to allow you the income of a Bishop instead of that of a Dean I - believe that he would still save money—a great deal of money—by - having you near him.” - </p> - <p> - “And you are in no way astray, Mr. Wynne. I was prepared for what people - would say when I accepted the situation that Archie offered me, but the - only stipulation that I made was that my accounts were to be audited by a - professional man, and monthly. Thus it is that I protect myself. Every - penny that I receive is accounted for.” - </p> - <p> - “That is a very wise plan, Mr. Playdell, but—” - </p> - <p> - “But it has nothing to do with my coming here to-day? That is what you are - too polite to say. You are right, Mr. Wynne. I have not come here to talk - about myself and my systems, but about our friend Archie. You have great - influence over him.” - </p> - <p> - “I’m afraid I haven’t much. If I had, I wouldn’t hesitate to tell him that - he is making an ass of himself.” - </p> - <p> - “You have come to the point at once, Mr. Wynne.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Playdell had risen from his chair and was walking up and down the room - with his head bent. Now he stood opposite to Harold. - </p> - <p> - “The point?” said Harold. - </p> - <p> - “The point is that he is being robbed right and left through the medium of - the Legitimate Theatre, and a stop must be put to it,” said Playdell. - </p> - <p> - “And you think that I should make the attempt to put a stop to this - foolishness of his? My dear Mr. Playdell, if I were to suggest to Archie - that he is making an ass of himself over this particular matter, I should - never have another chance of exercising my influence over him for good or - bad. I have always known that Mrs. Mowbray is one of the most expensive - tastes in England. But when the beauty of Mrs. Mowbray is to be exploited - with the beauty of the poetry of Shakespeare, and when these gems are - enclosed in so elaborate a setting as the Legitimate Theatre—well, I - suppose Archie’s millions will hold out. There’s a deal of spending in - three millions, Mr. Playdell.” - </p> - <p> - “His millions will hold out,” said Mr. Playdell. “And so will he,” laughed - Harold. “I have known Mrs. Mowbray for several years, and she has never - ruined any man except her husband, and he is not worth talking about. She - has always liked young men with wealth so enormous that even her powers of - spending money can make no impression on it.” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Wynne, you can have no notion what that theatre has cost Archie—what - it is daily costing him. Eight hundred pounds a week wouldn’t cover the - net loss of that ridiculous business—that trailing of Shakespeare in - the mire, to gratify the vanity of a woman. I know what men are when they - are very young. If I were to talk to Archie seriously on this subject, he - would laugh at me; if he did not, he would throw something at me. The - result would be <i>nil</i>.” - </p> - <p> - “Unless he was a good shot with a casual missile.” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Wynne, he would not listen to me; but he would listen to you—I - know that he would. You could talk to him with all the authority of a man - of the world—a man in Society.” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Playdell,” said Harold, shaking his head, “if there’s no fool like - the old fool, there’s no ass like the young ass. Now, I can assure you, on - the authority of a man of the world—you know what such an authority - is worth—that to try and detach Archie from his theatre nonsense - just now by means of a lecture, would be as impossible as to detach a - limpet from a rock by a sermon on—let us say—the flexibility - of the marriage bond.” - </p> - <p> - “Alas! alas!” said Mr. Playdell. - </p> - <p> - “The only way that Archie can be induced to throw over Mrs. Mowbray and - Shakespeare and suchlike follies, is by inducing him to form a stronger - attachment elsewhere.” - </p> - <p> - “The last state of that man might be worse than the first, Mr. Wynne.” - </p> - <p> - “Might—yes, it might be, but that is no reason why it should be. The - young ass takes to thistles, because it has never known the enjoyment of a - legitimate pasture.” - </p> - <p> - “The legitimate pasture is some distance away from the Legitimate Theatre, - Mr. Wynne.” - </p> - <p> - “I agree with you. Now, the thought has just occurred to me that I might - get Archie brought among decent people, for the first time in his life. My - sister, Mrs. Lampson, is having a party down at her husband’s place in - Brackenshire, for the pheasant-shooting. Why shouldn’t Archie be one of - the party? There are a number of decent men going, and decent women also. - None of the men will try to get the better of him.” - </p> - <p> - “And the women will not try to make a fool of him?” - </p> - <p> - “I won’t promise that—the world can’t cease to revolve on its axis - because Archie Brown has a tendency to giddiness.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Playdell was grave. Then he said, thoughtfully, “Whatever the women - may be, they can’t be of the stamp of Mrs. Mowbray.” - </p> - <p> - “You may trust my sister for that. You may also trust her to see that they - are less beautiful than Mrs. Mowbray,” remarked Harold. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Playdell pondered. - </p> - <p> - “Pheasant-shooting is expensive in its way,” said he. “The preservation of - grouse runs away with a good deal of money also, I am told. Race horses, - it is generally understood, entail considerable outlay. Put them all - together, and you only come within measurable distance of Mrs. Mowbray and - Shakespeare as a pastime—with nothing to show for the money—absolutely - nothing to show for the money.” - </p> - <p> - “Except Mrs. Mowbray and Shakespeare.” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Wynne, I believe that your kind suggestion may be the saving of that - lad,” said Playdell. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, it’s the merest chance,” said Harold. “He may grow sick of the whole - business after the first <i>battue</i>.” - </p> - <p> - “He won’t. I’ve known men saved from destruction by scoring a century in a - first-class cricket match: they gave themselves up to cricket, to the - exclusion of other games less healthy. If Archie takes kindly to the - pheasants, he may make up his mind to buy a place and preserve them. That - will be a healthy occupation for him. You will give him to understand that - it’s the proper thing to do, Mr. Wynne.” - </p> - <p> - “You may depend upon me. I’ll write to my sister to invite him. It’s only - an experiment.” - </p> - <p> - “It will succeed, Mr. Wynne—it will succeed, I feel that it will. If - you only knew, as I do, how he is being fooled, you would understand my - earnestness—you have long ago forgiven my intrusion. Give me a - chance of serving you in return, Mr. Wynne. That’s all I ask.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXVII.—ON THE DEFECTIVE LINK. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>AROLD had a note - written to Mrs. Lampson, begging her to invite his friend, Mr. Archie - Brown, to join her party at Abbeylands, almost before Mr. Playdell had - left the street. He knew that his sister would be very glad to have - Archie. All the world had a general notion of Archie’s millions; and - Abbeylands was one of those immense houses that can accommodate a - practically unlimited number of guests. The property had been bought from - a nobleman, who had been brought to the verge of bankruptcy by trying to - maintain it. Mr. Lampson, a patriotic American, had come to his relief, - and had taken the place off his hands. - </p> - <p> - That is what all truly patriotic Americans do when they have an - opportunity. - </p> - <p> - The new-world democracy comes to the rescue of the old-world aristocracy, - and thus a venerable institution is preserved from annihilation. - </p> - <p> - Harold posted his letter as he went out to dine with a man who was a - member of the Carlton Club, and zealous in heating up recruits for the - Conservative party. He thought that Harold might possibly be open to - conviction, not, of course, on the question of the righteousness of - certain principles, but on the question of the direction in which the cat - was about to jump. The jumping cat is the dominant power in modern - politics. - </p> - <p> - Harold ate his dinner, and listened patiently to the man whose - acquaintance with the tendencies of every genus of the political <i>felis</i> - was supposed to be extraordinary. He said little. Before he had gone to - Castle Innisfail the subject would have interested him greatly, but now he - thought that Archie Brown’s inanities were preferable to those of the - politician. - </p> - <p> - He was just enough to acknowledge, however, that the cigar with which he - left the Carlton was as good a one as he had ever smoked. So that there - was some advantage in being a Conservative after all. - </p> - <p> - He walked round St. James’s Square, for the night was warm and fine. His - mind was not conscious of having received anything during the previous two - hours upon which it would be profitable to ponder. He thought over the - question which he had put to himself previously—the question of how - he could bind Beatrice to him—how he could make her certainly his - own, and thus banish that cold distrust of which he now and again became - aware—no, it was not exactly distrust, it was only a slightly - defective link in the chain of complete trust. - </p> - <p> - She loved him and she promised to love him. He reflected upon this, and he - asked himself what more could he want. What bond stronger than her word - could he desire to have? - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I will trust her for ever—for ever,” he murmured. “If she is - not true, then there never was truth on earth.” - </p> - <p> - He fancied that he had dismissed the matter from his mind with this - exorcism. - </p> - <p> - And so he had. - </p> - <p> - But it so happens that some persons are so constituted that there is but - the slenderest connection between their mind and their heart. Something - that appeals very forcibly to their mind will not touch their heart in the - least. They are Nature’s “sports.” - </p> - <p> - Harold Wynne was one of these people. He had made up his mind that, on the - question of implicitly trusting Beatrice, nothing more remained to be - said. There was still, however, that cold finger upon his heart. - </p> - <p> - But having made up his mind that nothing more remained to be said on the - question, he was logical enough—for logic is also a mental - attribute, though by no means universally distributed—to think of - other matters. - </p> - <p> - He began to think about Mr. Playdell, and his zeal for the reform of - Archie. Harold’s respect for Mr. Playdell had materially increased since - the morning. At first he had been inclined to look with suspicion upon the - man who had, by the machinery of the Church, been prohibited from - discharging the functions of a priest of that Church, though, of course, - he was free to exercise that unimportant function known as preaching. He - could not preach within a church, however. If he wished to try and save - souls by preaching, that was his own business. He would not do so with the - sanction of the Church. He was anxious to save the soul of Archie Brown, - at any rate. He assumed that Archie had a soul in embryo, ready to be - hatched, and it was clear to Harold that Mr. Playdell was anxious to save - it from being addled before it had pecked its way out of its shell. - Therefore Harold had a considerable respect for Mr. Playdell, though he - had been one of the unprofitable servants of the Church. - </p> - <p> - He thought of the earnest words of the man—of the earnest way in - which he had begged to be given the chance of returning the service, which - he believed was about to be done to him by Harold. - </p> - <p> - He had been greatly in earnest; but that fact only made his words the more - ridiculous. - </p> - <p> - “What service could he possibly do me?” Harold thought, when he had had - his laugh, recalling the outstretched hand of Mr. Playdell, and his eager - eyes. “<i>What service could he possibly do me? What service?</i>” - </p> - <p> - He was rooted to the pavement. The driver of a passing hansom pulled up - opposite him, taking the fact of his stopping so suddenly as an indication - that he wanted a hansom. - </p> - <p> - He took no notice of the hansom, and it passed up the square. He remained - so long lost in thought, that his cigar, so strongly impregnated with - sound Conservative principles, went out like any Radical weed, or the - penny Pickwick of the Labour Processionist. - </p> - <p> - He dropped the unsmoked end, and felt for his pocket-handkerchief. He - raised his hat and wiped his forehead. - </p> - <p> - Then he took a stroll into Piccadilly and on to Knightsbridge. He went - down Sloane Street, and into Chelsea, returning by the Embankment to - Westminster—the clock was chiming the hour of 2 a.m. as he passed. - </p> - <p> - But the same clock had struck three before he got into bed, and five - before he fell asleep. - </p> - <h3> - END OF VOL. II. - </h3> - <div style="height: 6em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg’s A Gray Eye or So, by Frank Frankfort Moore - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GRAY EYE OR SO *** - -***** This file should be named 51945-h.htm or 51945-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/9/4/51945/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -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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- A Gray Eye Or So, by Frank Frankfort Moore
- </title>
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-
-The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Gray Eye or So, by Frank Frankfort Moore
-
-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: A Gray Eye or So
- In Three Volumes--Volume II
-
-Author: Frank Frankfort Moore
-
-Release Date: May 2, 2016 [EBook #51945]
-Last Updated: November 15, 2016
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GRAY EYE OR SO ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by David Widger from page images generously
-provided by the Internet Archive
-
-
-
-
-
-
-</pre>
-
- <div style="height: 8em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h1>
- A GRAY EYE OR SO
- </h1>
- <h2>
- By Frank Frankfort Moore
- </h2>
- <h3>
- In Three Volumes—Volume II
- </h3>
- <h4>
- Sixth Edition
- </h4>
- <h4>
- London, Hutchinson & Co., 34 Paternoster Row
- </h4>
- <h3>
- 1893
- </h3>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0007.jpg" alt="0007 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0007.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p>
- <b>CONTENTS</b>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>A GRAY EYE OR SO.</b> </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER XX.—ON AN OAK SETTEE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER XXI.—ON THE ELEMENTS OF PARTY
- POLITICS. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER XXII.—ON THE WISDOM OP THE MATRONS.
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER XXIII.—ON THE ATLANTIC. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER XXIV.—ON THE CHANCE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER XXV.—ON THE SOCIAL VALUE OF THE
- REPROBATE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER XXVI.—ON FRANKNESS AND FRIENDSHIP.
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER XXVII.—ON CIRCUMVENTING A STAG.
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER XXVIII.—ON ENJOYING A RESPITE. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER XXIX.—ON THE ADVANTAGES OF READY
- MONEY. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XXX.—ON THE LEGITIMATE IN ART. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XXXI.—ON A BLACK SHEEP. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XXXII.—ON SHAKESPEARE AND SUPPER.
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XXXIII.—ON BLESSING OR DOOM. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XXXIV.—ON THE MESSAGE OF THE LILY.
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XXXV.—ON THE HOME. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XXXVI.—ON THE INFLUENCE OF A MAN OF
- THE WORLD. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XXXVII.—ON THE DEFECTIVE LINK. </a>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h1>
- A GRAY EYE OR SO.
- </h1>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XX.—ON AN OAK SETTEE.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>E was still
- pondering over the many aspects of the question which, to his mind, needed
- solution, when he returned to the Castle, to find Lord Fotheringay in a
- chair by the side of a gaunt old man who, at one period of his life, had
- probably been tall, but who was now stooped in a remarkable way. The
- stranger seemed very old, so that beside him Lord Fotheringay looked
- comparatively youthful. Of this fact no one was better aware than Lord
- Fotheringay.
- </p>
- <p>
- Edmund Airey had seen portraits of the new guest, and did not require to
- be told that he was Julius Anthony Avon, the historian of certain periods.
- </p>
- <p>
- The first thought that occurred to him when he saw the two men side by
- side, was that Lord Fotheringay would not appear ridiculous merely as the
- son-in-law of Mr. Avon. To the casual observer at any rate he might have
- posed as the son of Mr. Avon.
- </p>
- <p>
- He himself seemed to be under the impression that he might pass as Mr.
- Avon’s grandson, for he was extremely sportive in his presence,
- attitudinizing on his settee in a way that Edmund knew must have been
- agonizing to his rheumatic joints. Edmund smiled. He felt that he was
- watching the beginning of a comedy.
- </p>
- <p>
- He learned that Mr. Avon had yielded to the persuasion of Lady Innisfail
- and had consented to join his daughter at the Castle for a few days. He
- was not fond of going into society; but it so happened that Castle
- Innisfail had been the centre of an Irish conspiracy at the early part of
- the century, and this fact made the acceptance by him of Lady Innisfail’s
- invitation a matter of business.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hearing the nature of the work at which he was engaged, Lord Fotheringay
- had lost no time in expounding to him, in that airy style which he had at
- his command, the various mistakes that had been made by several
- generations of statesmen in dealing with the Irish question. The
- fundamental error which they had all committed was taking the Irish and
- their rebellions and conspiracies too seriously.
- </p>
- <p>
- This theory he expounded to the man who was writing a biographical
- dictionary of Irish informers, and was about to publish his seventh
- volume, concluding the letter B.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Avon listened, gaunt and grim, while Lord Fotheringay gracefully waved
- away statesman after statesman who had failed signally, by reason of
- taking Ireland and the Irish seriously.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was something grim also in Edmund Airey’s smile as he glanced at
- this beginning of the comedy.
- </p>
- <p>
- That night Miss Stafford added originality to the ordinary terrors of her
- recital. She explained that hitherto she had merely interpreted the verses
- of others: now, however, she would draw upon her store of original poems.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of course, Edmund Airey was outside the drawingroom while this was going
- on. So were many of his fellow-guests, including Helen Craven. Edmund
- found her beside him in a secluded part of the hall. He was rather
- startled by her sudden appearance. He forgot to greet her with one of the
- clever things that he reserved for her and other appreciative young women—for
- he still found a few, as any man with a large income may, if he only keeps
- his eyes open. “What a fool you must think me,” were the words with which
- Miss Craven greeted him, so soon as he became aware of her presence.
- </p>
- <p>
- Strange to say, he had a definite idea that she had said something clever—at
- any rate something that impressed him more strongly than ever with the
- idea that she was a clever girl.
- </p>
- <p>
- And yet she had assumed that he must think her a fool.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A fool?” said he, “To think you so would be to write myself down one,
- Miss Craven.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr Airey,” said she, “I am a woman. Long ago I was a girl. You will thus
- believe me when I tell you that I never was frank in all my life. I want
- to begin now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, now I know the drift of your remark,” said he. “A fool. Yes, you made
- a good beginning: but supposing that I were to be frank, where would you
- be then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I want you to begin also, Mr Airey,” said she.
- </p>
- <p>
- “To begin? Oh, I made my start years ago—when I entered Parliament,”
- said he. “I was perfectly frank with the Opposition when I pointed out
- their mistakes. I have never yet been frank with a friend, however. That
- is why I still have a few left.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You must be frank with me now; if you won’t it doesn’t matter: I’ll be so
- to you. I admit that I behaved like an idiot; but you were responsible for
- it—yes, largely.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is a capital beginning. Now tell me what you have done or left
- undone—above all, tell me where my responsibility comes in.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You like Harold Wynne?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You suggest that a mere liking involves a certain responsibility?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I love him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Great heavens!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why should you be startled at the confession when you have been aware of
- the fact for some time?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I never met a frank woman before. It is very terrible. Perhaps I shall
- get used to it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why will you not drop that tone?” she said, almost piteously. “Cannot you
- see how serious the thing is to me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is quite as serious to me,” he replied. “Men have confided in me—mostly
- fools—a woman never. Pray do not continue in that strain.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then find words for me—be frank.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will. You mean to say, Miss Craven, that I think you a fool because,
- acting on the hint which I somewhat vaguely, but really in good faith,
- dropped, you tried to impersonate the figure of the legend at that
- ridiculous cave. Is not that what you would say if you had the courage to
- be thoroughly frank?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you,” said she, in a still weaker voice. “It is not so easy being
- frank all in a moment.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, not if one has accustomed oneself to—let us say good manners,”
- he added.
- </p>
- <p>
- “When I started for the boats after you had all left for that nonsense at
- the village, I felt certain that you were my friend as well as Harold
- Wynne’s, and that you had good reason for believing that he would be about
- the cave shortly after our hour of dining. I’m not very romantic.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pardon me,” said he. “You are not quite frank. If you were you would say
- that, while secretly romantic, you follow the example of most young women
- nowadays in ridiculing romance.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Quite right,” she said. “I admitted just now that I found it difficult to
- be frank all in a moment. Anyhow I believed that if I were to play the
- part of the Wraith of the Cave within sight of Harold Wynne, he might—oh,
- how could I have been such a fool? But you—you, I say, were largely
- responsible for it, Mr. Airey.” She was now speaking not merely
- reproachfully but fiercely. “Why should you drop those hints—they
- were much more than hints—about his being so deeply impressed with
- the romance—about his having gone to the cave on the previous
- evening, if you did not mean me to act upon them?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I did mean you to act upon them,” said he. “I meant that you and he
- should come together last night, and I know that if you had come together,
- he would have asked you to marry him. I meant all that, because I like him
- and I like you too—yes, in spite of your frankness.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thank you,” said she, giving him her hand. “You forgive me for being
- angry just now?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The woman who is angry with a man without cause pays him the greatest
- compliment in her power,” he remarked. “Fate was against us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You think that she is so very—very pretty?” said Miss Craven.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She?—fate?—I’ll tell you what I think. I think that Harold
- Wynne has met with the greatest misfortune of his life.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you believe that, I know that I have met with the greatest of my
- life.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The corner of the hall was almost wholly in shadow. The settee upon which
- Mr. Airey and Miss Craven were sitting, was cut off from the rest of the
- place by the thigh hone of the great skeleton elk. Between the ribs of the
- creature, however, some rays of light passed from one of the lamps; and,
- as Mr. Airey looked sympathetically into the face of his companion, he saw
- the gleam of a tear upon her cheek.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was deeply impressed—so deeply that some moments had passed
- before he found himself wondering what she would say next. For a moment he
- forgot to be on his guard, though if anyone had described the details of a
- similar scene to him, he would probably have smiled while remarking that
- when the lamplight gleams upon a tear upon the cheek of a young woman of
- large experience, is just when a man needs most to be on his guard, He
- felt in another moment, however, that something was coming.
- </p>
- <p>
- He waited for it in silence.
- </p>
- <p>
- It seemed to him in that pause that he was seated by the side of someone
- whom he had never met before. The girl who was beside him seemed to have
- nothing in common with Helen Craven. So greatly does a young woman change
- when she becomes frank.
- </p>
- <p>
- This is why so many husbands declare—when they are also frank—that
- the young women whom they marry are in every respect different from the
- young women who promise to be their wives.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What is going to happen?” Helen asked him in a steady voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “God knows,” said he.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I saw them together just after they left you this morning,” said she. “I
- was at one of the windows of the Castle, they were far along the terrace;
- but I’m sure that he said something to her about her eyes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I should not be surprised if he did,” said Edmund. “Her eyes invite
- comment.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I believe that in spite of her eyes she is much the same as any other
- girl.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is that to the point?” he asked. He was a trifle disappointed in her last
- sentence. It seemed to show him that, whatever Beatrice might be, Helen
- was much the same as other girls.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is very much to the point,” said she. “If she is like other girls she
- will hesitate before marrying a penniless man.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I agree with you,” said he. “But if she is like other girls she will not
- hesitate to love a penniless man.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Possibly—if, like me, she can afford to do so. But I happen to know
- that she cannot afford it. This brings me up to what has been on my mind
- all day. You are, I know, my friend; you are Harold Wynne’s also. Now, if
- you want to enable him to gratify his reasonable ambition—if you
- want to make him happy—to make me happy—you will prevent him
- from ever asking Beatrice Avon to marry him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I am prepared to do so much for him—for you—for her. But
- how can I do it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You can take her away from him. You know how such things are done. You
- know that if a distinguished man such as you are, with a large income such
- as you possess, gives a girl to understand that he is, let us say, greatly
- interested in her, she will soon cease to be interested in any
- undistinguished and penniless son of a reprobate peer who may be before
- her eyes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have seen such a social phenomenon,” said he. “Does your proposition
- suggest that I should marry the young woman with ‘a gray eye or so’?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You may marry her if you please—that’s entirely a matter for
- yourself. I don’t see any need for you to go that length. Have I not kept
- my promise to be frank?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have,” said he.
- </p>
- <p>
- She had risen from the settee. She laid her hand on one of his that rested
- on a projection of the old oak carving, and in another instant she was
- laughing in front of Norah Innisfail, who was rendered even more proper
- than usual through having become acquainted with Miss Stafford’s notions
- of originality in verse-making.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXI.—ON THE ELEMENTS OF PARTY POLITICS.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>R. AIREY was
- actually startled by the suggestion which Miss Craven had made with, on
- the whole, considerable tact as well as inconceivable frankness.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had been considering all the afternoon the possibility of carrying out
- the idea which it seemed Helen Craven had on her mind as well; but it had
- never occurred to him that his purpose might be achieved through the means
- suggested by the young woman who had just gone from his side.
- </p>
- <p>
- His first impression was that the proposal made to him was the cruellest
- that had ever come from one girl in respect of another girl. He had never
- previously had an idea that a girl could be so heartless as to make such a
- suggestion as that which had come from Helen Craven; but in the course of
- a short space of time, he found it expedient to revise his first judgment
- on this matter. Helen Craven meant to marry Harold—so much could
- scarcely be doubted—and her marrying him would be the best thing
- that could happen to him. She was anxious to prevent his marrying Miss
- Avon; and surely this was a laudable aim, considering that marrying Miss
- Avon would be the worst thing that could happen to him—and to Miss
- Avon as well.
- </p>
- <p>
- It might possibly be regarded as cruel by some third censors for Miss
- Craven to suggest that he, Edmund, after leading the other girl to believe
- that he was desirous of marrying her—or at least to believe that she
- might have a chance of marrying him—might stop short. To be sure,
- Miss Craven had not, with all her frankness, said that her idea was that
- he should refrain from asking the other girl to marry him, but only that
- the question was one that concerned himself alone.
- </p>
- <p>
- He thought over this point for some time, and the conclusion he came to
- was that, after all, whether or not the cynical indifference of the
- suggestion amounted to absolute cruelty, the question concerned himself
- alone. Even if he were not to ask her to marry him after leading her to
- suppose that he intended doing so, he would at any rate have prevented her
- from the misery of marrying Harold; and that was something for which she
- might be thankful to him. He would also have saved her from the
- degradation of receiving a proposal of marriage from Lord Fotheringay; and
- that was also something for which she might be thankful to him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Being a strictly party politician, he regarded expediency as the greatest
- of all considerations. He was not devoid of certain scruples now and
- again; but he was capable of weighing the probable advantages of yielding
- to these scruples against the certain advantages of—well, of
- throwing them to the winds.
- </p>
- <p>
- For some minutes after Helen Craven had left him he subjected his scruples
- to the balancing process, and the result was that he found they were as
- nothing compared with the expediency of proceeding as Helen had told him
- that it was advisable for him to proceed.
- </p>
- <p>
- He made up his mind that he would save the girl—that was how he put
- it to himself—and he would take extremely good care that he saved
- himself as well. Marriage would not suit him. Of this he was certain.
- People around him were beginning to be certain of it also. The mothers in
- Philistia had practically come to regard him as a <i>quantité négligeable</i>.
- The young women did not trouble themselves about him, after a while. It
- would not suit him to marry a young woman with lustrous eyes, he said to
- himself as he left his settee; but it would suit him to defeat the
- machinations of Lord Fotheringay, and to induce his friend Harold Wynne to
- pursue a sensible course.
- </p>
- <p>
- He found himself by the side of Beatrice Avon before five minutes had
- passed, and he kept her thoroughly amused for close upon an hour—he
- kept her altogether to himself also, though many chances of leaving his
- side were afforded the girl by considerate youths, and by one smiling
- person who had passed the first bloom of youth and had reached that which
- is applied by the cautious hare’s foot in the hand of a valet.
- </p>
- <p>
- Before the hour of brandy-and-sodas and resplendent smoking-jackets had
- come, the fact of his having kept Beatrice Avon so long entertained had
- attracted some attention.
- </p>
- <p>
- It had attracted the attention of Miss Craven, who commented upon it with
- a confidential smile at Harold. It attracted the attention of Harold’s
- father, who commented upon it with a leer and a sneer. It attracted the
- attention of Lady Innisfail, who commented upon it with a smile that
- caused the dainty dimple in her chin to assume the shape of the dot in a
- well-made note of interrogation.
- </p>
- <p>
- It also attracted the attention of quite a number of other persons, but
- they reserved their comments, which was a wise thing for them to do.
- </p>
- <p>
- As she said good-night to him, she seemed, Edmund Airey thought, to be a
- trifle fascinated as well as fascinating. He felt that he had had a
- delightful hour—it was far more delightful than the half hour which
- he had passed on the settee at the rear of the skeleton elk.
- </p>
- <p>
- His feeling in this matter simply meant that it was far more agreeable to
- him to see a young woman admiring his cleverness than it was to admire the
- cleverness of another young woman.
- </p>
- <p>
- He enjoyed his smoke by the side of the judge; for when a man is absorbed
- in the thoughts of his own cleverness he can still get a considerable
- amount of passive enjoyment out of the story of How the Odds fell from
- Thirteen to Five to Six to Four against Porcupine for some prehistoric
- Grand National.
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold Wynne now and again glanced across the hall at the man who
- professed to be his best friend. He could perceive without much trouble
- that Edmund Airey was particularly well pleased with himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- This meant, he thought, that Edmund had been particularly well pleased
- with Beatrice Avon.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lord Fotheringay was too deeply absorbed in giving point to a story,
- founded upon personal experience, which he was telling to his host, to
- give a moment’s attention to Edmund Airey, or to make an attempt to
- interpret his aspect.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was only when his valet was putting him carefully to bed—he
- required very careful handling—that he recollected the effective way
- in which Airey had snubbed him, when he had made an honest attempt to
- reach Miss Avon conversationally.
- </p>
- <p>
- He now found time to wonder what Airey meant by preventing the girl from
- being entertained—Lord Fotheringay assumed, as a matter of course,
- that the girl had not been entertained—all the evening. He had no
- head, however, for considering such a question in all its aspects. He only
- resolved that in future he would take precious good care that when there
- was any snubbing in the air, he would be the dispenser of it, not the
- recipient.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lord Fotheringay was not a man of genius, but upon occasions he could be
- quite as disagreeable as if he were. He had studied the art of
- administering snubs, and though he had never quite succeeded in snubbing a
- member of Parliament of the same standing as Mr. Airey, yet he felt quite
- equal to the duty, should he find it necessary to make an effort in this
- direction.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was sleeping the sleep of the reprobate, long before his son had
- succeeded in sleeping the sleep of the virtuous. Harold had more to think
- about, as well as more capacity of thinking, than his father. He was
- puzzled at the attitude of his friend and counsellor, Edmund Airey. What
- on earth could he have meant by appropriating Beatrice Avon, Harold
- wondered. He assumed that Airey had some object in doing what he had done.
- He knew that his friend was not the man to do anything without having an
- object in view. Previously he had been discreet to an extraordinary degree
- in his attitude toward women. He had never even made love to those matrons
- to whom it is discreet to make love. If he had ever done so Harold knew
- that he would have heard of it; for there is no fascination in making love
- to other men’s wives, unless it is well known in the world that you are
- doing so. The school-boy does not smoke his cigarette in private. The
- fascination of the sin lies in his committing it so that it gets talked
- about.
- </p>
- <p>
- Yes, Airey had ever been discreet, Harold knew, and he quite failed to
- account for his lapse—assuming that it was indiscreet to appropriate
- Beatrice Avon for an hour, and to keep her amused all that time.
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold himself had his own ideas of what was discreet in regard to young
- women, and he had acted up to them. He did not consider that, so far as
- the majority of young women were concerned, he should be accredited with
- much self-sacrifice for his discretion.
- </p>
- <p>
- Had a great temperance movement been set on foot in Italy in the days of
- Cæsar Borgia, the total abstainers would not have earned commendation for
- their self-sacrifice. Harold Wynne had been discreet in regard to most
- women simply because he was afraid of them. He was afraid that he might
- some day be led to ask one of them to marry him—one of them whom he
- would regard as worse than a Borgia poison ever after.
- </p>
- <p>
- The caution that he had displayed in respect of Helen Craven showed how
- discreet he had accustomed himself to be.
- </p>
- <p>
- He reflected, however, that in respect of Beatrice Avon he had thrown
- discretion to the winds From the moment that he had drawn her hands to his
- by the fishing line, he had given himself up to her. He had been without
- the power to resist.
- </p>
- <p>
- Might it not, then, be the same with Edmund Airey? Might not Edmund, who
- had invariably been so guarded as to be wholly free from reproach so far
- as women were concerned, have found it impossible to maintain that
- attitude in the presence of Beatrice?
- </p>
- <p>
- And if this was so, what would be the result?
- </p>
- <p>
- This was the thought which kept Harold Wynne awake and uncomfortable for
- several hours during that night.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXII.—ON THE WISDOM OP THE MATRONS.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">L</span>ADY INNISFAIL made
- a confession to one of her guests—a certain Mrs. Burgoyne—who
- was always delighted to play the <i>rôle</i> of receiver of confessions.
- The date at which Lady Innisfail’s confession was made was three days
- after the arrival of Beatrice Avon at the Castle, and its subject was her
- own over-eagerness to secure a strange face for the entertainment of her
- guests.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought that the romantic charm which would attach to that girl, who
- seemed to float up to us out of the mist—leaving her wonderful eyes
- out of the question altogether—would interest all my guests,” said
- she.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And so it did, if I may speak for the guests,” said Mrs. Burgoyne. “Yes,
- we were all delighted for nearly an entire day.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am glad that my aims were not wholly frustrated,” said Lady Innisfail.
- “But you see the condition we are all in at present.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I cannot deny it,” replied Mrs. Burgoyne, with a sigh. “My dear, a new
- face is almost as fascinating as a new religion.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “More so to some people—generally men,” said Lady Innisfail. “But
- who could have imagined that a young thing like that—she has never
- been presented, she tells me—should turn us all topsy turvy?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She has a good deal in her favour,” remarked Mrs. Burgoyne. “She is
- fresh, her face is strange, she neither plays, sings, nor recites, and she
- is a marvellously patient listener.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That last comes through being the daughter of a literary man,” said Lady
- Innisfail. “The wives and daughters of poets and historians and the like
- are compelled to be patient listeners. They are allowed to do nothing
- else.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I dare say. Anyhow that girl has made the most of her time since she came
- among us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She has. The worst of it is that no one could call her a flirt.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I suppose not. But what do you call a girl who is attractive to all men,
- and who makes all the men grumpy, except the one she is talking to?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I call her a—a clever girl,” replied Lady Innisfail. “Don’t we all
- aim at that sort of thing?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perhaps we did—once,” said Mrs. Burgoyne, who was a year or two
- younger than her hostess. “I should hope that our aims are different now.
- We are too old, are we not?—you and I—for any man to insult us
- by making love to us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A woman is never too old to be insulted, thank God,” said Lady Innisfail;
- and Mrs. Burgoyne’s laugh was not the laugh of a matron who is shocked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “All the same,” added Lady Innisfail, “our pleasant party threatens to
- become a fiasco, simply because I was over-anxious to annex a new face. I
- had set my heart upon bringing Harold Wynne and Helen Craven together; but
- now they have become hopelessly good friends.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She is very kind to him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, that’s the worst of it; she is kind and he is indifferent—he
- treats her as if she were his favourite sister.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are matters so bad as that?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Quite. But when the other girl is listening to what another man is saying
- to her, Harold Wynne’s face is a study. He is as clearly in love with the
- other girl as anything can be. That, old reprobate—his father—has
- his aims too—horrid old creature! Mr. Durdan has ceased to study the
- Irish question with a deep-sea cast of hooks in his hand: he spends some
- hours every morning devising plans for spending as many minutes by the
- side of Beatrice. I do believe that my dear husband would have fallen a
- victim too, if I did not keep dinning into his ears that Beatrice is the
- loveliest creature of our acquaintance. I lured him on to deny it, and now
- we quarrel about it every night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I believe Lord Innisfail rather dislikes her,” said Mrs. Burgoyne.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’m convinced of it,” said Lady Innisfail. “But what annoys me most is
- the attitude of Mr. Airey. He professed to be Harold’s friend as well as
- Helen’s, and yet he insists on being so much with Beatrice that Harold
- will certainly be led on to the love-making point—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If he has not passed it already,” suggested Mrs. Burgoyne.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If he has not passed it already; for I need scarcely tell you, my dear
- Phil, that a man does not make love to a girl for herself alone, but
- simply because other men make love to her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of course.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So that it is only natural that Harold should want to make love to
- Beatrice when he is led to believe that Edmund Airey wants to marry her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The young fool! Why could he not restrain his desire until Mr. Airey has
- married her? But do you really think that Mr. Airey does want to marry
- her?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I believe that Harold Wynne believes so—that is enough for the
- present. Oh, no. You’ll not find me quite so anxious to annex a strange
- face another time.”
- </p>
- <p>
- From the report of this confidential duologue it may possibly be
- perceived, first, that Lady Innisfail was a much better judge of the
- motives and impulses of men than Miss Craven was; and, secondly, that the
- presence of Beatrice at the Castle had produced a marked impression upon
- the company beneath its roof.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was on the evening of the day after the confidential duologue just
- reported that there was an entertainment in the hall of the Castle. It
- took the form of <i>tableaux</i> arranged after well-known pictures, and
- there was certainly no lack of actors and actresses for the figures.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mary Queen of Scots was, of course, led to execution, and Marie
- Antoinette, equally as a matter of course, appeared in her prison. Then
- Miss Stafford did her best to realize the rapt young woman in Mr. Sant’s
- “The Soul’s Awaking”—Miss Stafford was very wide awake indeed, some
- scoffer suggested; and Miss Innisfail looked extremely pretty—a
- hostess’s daughter invariably looks pretty—as “The Peacemaker” in
- Mr. Marcus Stone’s picture.
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice Avon took no part in the <i>tableaux</i>—the other girls
- had not absolutely insisted on her appearing beside them on the stage that
- had been fitted up; they had an+ informal council together, Miss Craven
- being stage-manager, and they had come to the conclusion that they could
- get along very nicely without her assistance.
- </p>
- <p>
- Some of them said that Beatrice preferred flirting with the men. However
- this may have been, the fact remained that Harold, when he had washed the
- paint off his face—he had been the ill-tempered lover, Miss Craven
- being the young woman with whom he was supposed to have quarrelled,
- requiring the interposition of a sweet Peacemaker in the person of Miss
- Innisfail—went round by a corridor to the back of the hall, and
- stood for a few minutes behind a ‘portiere that took the place of a door
- at one of the entrances. The hall was, of course, dimly lighted to make
- the contrast with the stage the greater, so that he could not see the
- features of the man who was sitting on the chair at the end of the row
- nearest the <i>portiere</i>; but the applause that greeted a reproduction
- of the picture of a monk shaving himself, having previously used no other
- soap than was supplied by a particular maker, had scarcely died away
- before Harold heard the voice of Edmund Airey say, in a low and earnest
- tone, to someone who was seated beside him, “I do hope that before you go
- away, you will let me know where you will next pitch your tent. I don’t
- want to lose sight of you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you wish I shall let you know when I learn it from my father,” was the
- reply that Harold heard, clearly spoken in the voice of Beatrice Avon.
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold went back into the billowy folds of the tapestry curtain, and then
- into the corridor. The words that he had overheard had startled him. Not
- merely were the words spoken by Edmund Airey the same as he himself had
- employed a few days before to Beatrice, but her reply was practically the
- same as the reply which she had made to him.
- </p>
- <p>
- When the last of the figurantes had disappeared from the stage, and when
- the buzz of congratulations was sounding through the hall, now fully
- lighted, Harold was nowhere to be seen.
- </p>
- <p>
- Only a few of the most earnest of the smokers were still in the hall when,
- long past midnight, he appeared at the door leading to the outer hall or
- porch. His shoes were muddy and his shirt front was pulpy, for the night
- was a wet one.
- </p>
- <p>
- He explained to his astonished friends that it was invariably the case
- that putting paint and other auxiliaries to “making up” on his face,
- brought on a headache, which he had learned by experience could only be
- banished by a long walk in the open air.
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, he had just had such a walk.
- </p>
- <p>
- He did not expect that his explanation would carry any weight with it; and
- the way he was looked at by his friends made him aware of the fact that,
- in giving them credit for more sense than to believe him, he was doing
- them no more than the merest justice.
- </p>
- <p>
- No one who was present on his return placed the smallest amount of
- credence in his story. What many of them did believe was of no
- consequence.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXIII.—ON THE ATLANTIC.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>HE boats were
- scattered like milestones—as was stated by Brian—through the
- sinuous length of Lough Suangorm. The cutter yacht <i>Acushla</i> was
- leading the fleet out to the Atlantic, with two reefs in her mainsail, and
- although she towed a large punt, and was by no means a fast boat, she had
- no difficulty in maintaining her place, the fact being that the half-dozen
- boats that lumbered after her were mainly fishing craft hailing from the
- village of Cairndhu, and, as all the world knows, these are not built for
- speed but endurance. They are half-decked and each carries a lug sail. One
- of the legends of the coast is that when a lug sail is new its colour is
- brown, and as a new sail is never seen at Cairndhu there are no means of
- finding out if the story is true or false. The sails, as they exist, are
- kaleidoscopic in their patchwork. It is understood that anything will
- serve as a patch for a lug sail. Sometimes the centre-piece of an old coat
- has been used for this purpose; but if so, it is only fair to state that
- it is on record that the centre-piece of an old sail has been shaped into
- a jacket for the ordinary wearing of a lad.
- </p>
- <p>
- The lug sail may yet find its way into a drawing room in Belgravia and
- repose side by side with the workhouse sheeting which occupies an honoured
- place in that apartment.
- </p>
- <p>
- On through the even waves that roll from between the headlands at the
- entrance, to the little strand of pebbles at the end of the lough, the
- boats lumbered. The sea and sky were equally gray, but now and again a
- sudden gleam of sunshine would come from some unsuspected rift in the
- motionless clouds, and fly along the crests of the waves, revealing a
- green transparency for an instant, and then, flashing upon the sails, make
- apparent every patch in their expanse, just as a flash of lightning on a
- dark night reveals for a second every feature of a broad landscape.
- </p>
- <p>
- As the first vessel of the little fleet, pursuing an almost direct course
- in spite of the curving of the shores of the Irish fjord, approached one
- coast and then the other, the great rocks that appeared snow-white, with
- only a dab of black here and there, became suddenly all dark, and the air
- was filled with what seemed like snow flakes. The cries of the innumerable
- sea birds, that whirled about the disturbing boat before they settled and
- the rocks became gradually white once more, had a remarkable effect when
- heard against that monotonous background, so to speak, of rolling waves.
- </p>
- <p>
- The narrow lough was a gigantic organ pipe through which the mighty bass
- of the Atlantic roared everlastingly.
- </p>
- <p>
- But when the headlands at the entrance were reached, the company who sat
- on the weather side of the cutter <i>Acushla</i> became aware of a
- commingling of sounds. The organ voice of the lough only filled up the
- intervals between the tremendous roar of the lion-throated waves that
- sprang with an appalling force half way up the black faces of the sheer
- cliffs, and broke in mid-air. All day long and all night long those
- inexhaustible billows come rushing upon that coast; and watching them and
- listening to them one feels how mean are contemporary politics as well as
- other things.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s the Irish question,” remarked Lord Innisfail, who was steering his
- own cutter.
- </p>
- <p>
- He nodded in the direction of the waves that were clambering up the
- headlands. What he meant exactly he might have had difficulty in
- explaining.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very true, very true,” said Mr. Durdan, sagaciously, hoping to provoke
- Mr. Airey to reply, and thinking it likely that he would learn from Mr.
- Airey’s reply what was Lord Innisfail’s meaning.
- </p>
- <p>
- But Mr. Airey, who had long ago become acquainted with Mr. Durdan’s
- political methods, did not feel it incumbent on him to make the attempt to
- grapple with the question—if it was a question—suggested by
- Lord Innisfail.
- </p>
- <p>
- The metaphor of a host should not, he knew, be considered too curiously.
- Like the wit of a police-court magistrate, it should be accepted with
- effusion.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Stand by that foresheet,” said Lord Innisfail to one of the yacht’s
- hands. “We’ll heave to until the other craft come up.”
- </p>
- <p>
- In a few moments the cutter had all way off her, and was simply tumbling
- about among the waves in a way that made some of the ship’s company hold
- their breath and think longingly of pale brandy.
- </p>
- <p>
- The cruise of the <i>Acushla</i> and the appearance of the fleet of boats
- upon the lough were due to the untiring energy of Lady Innisfail and to
- the fact that at last Brian, the boatman, had, by the help of Father Conn,
- come to grasp something of the force of the phrase “local colour”.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lady Innisfail was anxious that her guests should carry away certain
- definite impressions of their sojourn at the Connaught castle beyond those
- that may be acquired at any country-house, which everyone knows may be
- comprised in a very few words. A big shoot, and an incipient scandal
- usually constitute the record of a country-house entertainment. Now, it
- was not that Lady Innisfail objected to a big shoot or an incipient
- scandal—she admitted that both were excellent in their own way—but
- she hoped to do a great deal better for her guests. She hoped to impart to
- their visit some local colour.
- </p>
- <p>
- She had hung on to the wake and the eviction, as has already been told,
- with pertinacity. The <i>fête</i> which she believed was known to the
- Irish peasantry as the Cruiskeen, had certainly some distinctive features;
- though just as she fancied that the Banshee was within her grasp, it had
- vanished into something substantial—this was the way she described
- the scene on the cliffs. Although her guests said they were very well
- satisfied with what they had seen and heard, adding that they had come to
- the conclusion that if the Irish had only a touch of humour they would be
- true to the pictures that had been drawn of them, still Lady Innisfail was
- not satisfied.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of course if Mr. Airey were to ask Miss Avon to marry him, her house-party
- would be talked about during the winter. But she knew that it is the
- marriages which do not come off that are talked about most; and, after
- all, there is no local colour in marrying or giving in marriage, and she
- yearned for local colour. Brian, after a time, came to understand
- something of her ladyship’s yearnings. Like the priest and the other
- inhabitants, he did not at first know what she wanted.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is difficult to impress upon Fuzzy-wuzzy that he would be regarded as a
- person of distinction in the Strand and as an idol in Belgravia. At his
- home in the Soudan he is a very commonplace sort of person. So in the
- region of Lough Suangorm, but a casual interest attaches to the caubeen,
- which in Piccadilly would be followed by admiring crowds, and would
- possibly be dealt with in Evening Editions.
- </p>
- <p>
- But, as has just been said, Brian and his friends in due time came to
- perceive the spectacular value to her ladyship’s guests of the most
- commonplace things of the country; and it was this fact that induced Brian
- to tell three stories of a very high colour to Mr. Airey and Mr. Wynne.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was also his appreciation of her ladyship’s wants that caused him to
- suggest to her the possibility of a seal-hunt constituting an element of
- attraction—these were not the exact words employed by the boatman—to
- some of her ladyship’s guests.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is scarcely necessary to say that Lady Innisfail was delighted with the
- suggestion. Some of her guests pretended that they also were delighted
- with it, though all that the majority wanted was to be let alone. Still,
- upon the afternoon appointed for the seal-hunt a considerable number of
- the Castle party went aboard the yacht. Beatrice was one of the few girls
- who were of the party. Helen would have dearly liked to go also; she would
- certainly have gone if she had not upon one—only one—previous
- occasion allowed herself to be persuaded to sail out to the headlands. She
- was wise enough not to imperil her prospects for the sake of being
- drenched with sea water.
- </p>
- <p>
- She wondered—she did not exactly hope it—if it was possible
- for Beatrice Avon to become seasick.
- </p>
- <p>
- This was how upon that gray afternoon, the fleet of boats sailed out to
- where the yacht was thumping about among the tremendous waves beyond the
- headlands that guard the entrance to Lough Suangorm.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXIV.—ON THE CHANCE.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HEN the fishing
- boats came within half a cable’s length of the cutter, Lord Innisfail gave
- up the tiller to Brian, who was well qualified to be the organizer of the
- expedition, having the reputation of being familiar with the haunts and
- habits of the seals that may be found—by such as know as much about
- them as Brian—among the great caves that pierce for several miles
- the steep cliffs of the coast.
- </p>
- <p>
- The responsibility of steering a boat under the headlands, either North or
- South, was not sought by Lord Innisfail. For perhaps three hundred and
- fifty days in every year it would be impossible to approach the cliffs in
- any craft; but as Brian took the tiller he gave a knowing glance around
- the coast and assured his lordship that it was a jewel of a day for a
- seal-hunt, and added that it was well that he had brought only the largest
- of the fishing boats, for anything smaller would sink with the weight of
- the catch of seals.
- </p>
- <p>
- He took in the slack of the main sheet and sent the cutter flying direct
- to the Northern headland, the luggers following in her wake, though
- scarcely preserving stations or distances with that rigorous naval
- precision which occasionally sends an ironclad to the bottom.
- </p>
- <p>
- The man-of-war may run upon a reef, and the country may be called on to
- pay half a million for the damage; but it can never be said that she fails
- to maintain her station prescribed by the etiquette of the Royal Navy in
- following the flagship, which shows that the British sailor, wearing
- epaulettes, is as true as the steel that his ship is made of, and a good
- deal truer than that of some of the guns which he is asked to fire.
- </p>
- <p>
- In a short time the boats had cleared the headland, and it seemed to some
- of the cutter’s company as if they were given an opportunity of looking
- along the whole west coast of Ireland in a moment. Northward and
- southward, like a study in perspective, the lines of indented cliffs
- stretched until they dwindled away into the gray sky. The foam line that
- was curved as it curled around the enormous rocks close at hand, was
- straightened out in the distance and never quite disappeared.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Talk of the Great Wall of China,” said Lord Innisfail, pointing proudly
- to the splendid chain of cliffs. “Talk of the Great Wall of China indeed!
- What is it compared with that?”
- </p>
- <p>
- He spoke as proudly as if he owned everything within that line of cliffs,
- though he thanked heaven every night that he only owned a few thousand
- acres in Ireland.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What indeed—what indeed?” said Mr. Durdan.
- </p>
- <p>
- One of the men thought the moment opportune for airing a theory that he
- had to the effect that the Great Wall of China was not built by the
- Chinese to keep the surrounding nations out, but by the surrounding
- nations to keep the Chinese in.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a feasible theory, suggesting that the Chinese immigration question
- existed among the Thibetans some thousands of years ago, to quite as great
- an extent as it does in some other directions to-day. But it requires to
- be a very strong theory to stand the strain of the Atlantic waves and a
- practically unlimited view of the coast of Ireland. So no discussion
- arose.
- </p>
- <p>
- Already upon some of the flat rocks at the entrance to the great caves the
- black head of a seal might be seen. It did not remain long in view,
- however. Brian had scarcely pointed it out with a whisper to such persons
- as were near him, when it disappeared.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s the wary boys they are, to be sure!” he remarked confidentially.
- </p>
- <p>
- His boldness in steering among the rocks made some persons more than
- usually thoughtful. Fortunately the majority of those aboard the cutter
- knew nothing of his display of skill. They remained quite unaware of the
- jagged rocks that the boat just cleared; and when he brought the craft to
- the lee of a cliff, which formed a natural breakwater and a harbour of
- ripples, none of these people seemed surprised.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lord Innisfail and a few yachtsmen who knew something of sailing, drew
- long breaths. They knew what they had escaped.
- </p>
- <p>
- One of the hands got into the punt and took a line to the cliff to moor
- the yacht when the sails had been lowered, and by the time that the
- mooring was effected, the other boats had come into the natural harbour—it
- would have given protection—that is, natural protection, to a couple
- of ironclads—no power can protect them from their own commanders.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, my lard,” said Brian, who seemed at last to realize his
- responsibilities, “all we’ve got to do is to grab the craythurs; but that
- same’s a caution. We’ll be at least an hour-and-a-half in the caves, and
- as it will be cold work, and maybe wet work, maybe some of their honours
- wouldn’t mind standing by the cutter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The suggestion was heartily approved of by some of the yacht’s company.
- Lady Innisfail said she was perfectly satisfied with such local colour as
- was available without leaving the yacht, and it was understood that Miss
- Avon would remain by her side. Mr. Airey said he thought he could face
- with cheerfulness a scheme of existence that did not include sitting with
- varying degrees of uneasiness in a small boat while other men speared an
- inoffensive seal.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Such explanations are not for the Atlantic Ocean,” said Harold, getting
- over the side of the yacht into the punt that Brian had hauled close—Lord
- Innisfail was already in the bow.
- </p>
- <p>
- In a short time, by the skilful admiralship of Brian, the other boats,
- which were brought up from the luggers, were manned, and their stations
- were assigned to them, one being sent to explore a cave a short distance
- off, while another was to remain at the entrance to pick up any seals that
- might escape. The same plan was adopted in regard to the great cave, the
- entrance to which was close to where the yacht was moored. Brian arranged
- that his boat should enter the cave, while another, fully manned, should
- stand by the rocks to capture the refugees.
- </p>
- <p>
- All the boats then started for their stations—all except the punt
- with Brian at the yoke lines, Harold and Mr. Durdan in the stern sheets,
- one of the hands at the paddles, and Lord Innisfail in the bows; for when
- this craft was about to push off, Brian gave an exclamation of discontent.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What’s the matter now?” asked Lord Innisfail.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Plenty’s the matter, my lard,” said Brian. “The sorra a bit of luck we’ll
- have this day if we leave the ladies behind us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then we must put up with bad luck,” said Lord Innisfail. “Go down on your
- knees to her ladyship and ask her to come with us if you think that will
- do any good.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, her ladyship would come without prayers if she meant to,” said Brian.
- “But it’s Miss Avon that’s open to entreaty. For the love of heaven and
- the encouragement of sport, step into the boat, Sheila, and you’ll have
- something to talk about for the rest of your life.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice shook her head at the appeal, but that wouldn’t do for Brian.
- “Look, my lady, look at her eyes, aren’t they just jumping out of her head
- like young trout in a stream in May?” he cried to Lady Innisfail. “Isn’t
- she waiting for you to say the word to let her come, an’ not a word does
- any gentleman in the boat speak on her behalf.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The gentlemen remained dumb, but Lady Innisfail declared that if Miss Avon
- was not afraid of a wetting and cared to go in the boat, there was no
- reason why she should not do so.
- </p>
- <p>
- In another moment Beatrice had stepped into the punt and it had pushed off
- with a cheer from Brian. The men in the other boats, now in the distance,
- hearing the cheer, but without knowing why it arose, sent back an answer
- that aroused the thousand echoes of the cliffs and the ten thousand sea
- birds that arose in a cloud from every crevice of the rocks. Thus it was
- that the approach of the boat to the great cave did not take place in
- silence.
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold had not uttered a word. He had not even looked at Edmund Airey’s
- face to see what expression it wore when Beatrice stepped into the boat.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did you ever hear anything like Airey’s roundabout phrase about a scheme
- of existence?” said Mr. Durdan.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is his way of putting a simple matter,” said Harold. “You heard of the
- man who, in order to soften down the fact that a girl had what are
- colloquially known as beetle-crushers, wrote that her feet tended to
- increase the mortality among coleoptera?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’m afraid that the days of the present government are numbered,” said
- Mr. Durdan, who seemed to think that the remark was in logical sequence
- with Harold’s story.
- </p>
- <p>
- Beatrice looked wonderingly at the speaker; it was some moments before she
- found an echo in the expression on Harold’s face to what she felt.
- </p>
- <p>
- The man who could think of such things as the breaking up of a government,
- when floating in thirty fathoms of green sea, beneath the shadow of such
- cliffs as the boat was approaching, was a mystery to the girl, though she
- was the daughter of one of the nineteenth century historians, to whom
- nothing is a mystery.
- </p>
- <p>
- The boat entered the great cave without a word being spoken by any one
- aboard, and in a few minutes it was being poled along in semi-darkness.
- The lapping of the swell from the entrance against the sides of the cave
- sounded on through the distance of the interior, and from those mysterious
- depths came strange sounds of splashing water, of dropping stalactites,
- and now and again a mighty sob of waves choked within a narrow vent.
- </p>
- <p>
- Silently the boat was forced onward, and soon all light from the entrance
- was obscured. Through total darkness the little craft crept for nearly
- half a mile.
- </p>
- <p>
- Suddenly a blaze of light shot up with startling effect in the bows of the
- boat. It only came from a candle that Brian had lit: but its gleam was
- reflected in millions of stalactites into what seemed an interminable
- distance—millions of stalactites on the roof and the walls, and
- millions of ripples beneath gave back the gleam, until the boat appeared
- to be the centre of a vast illumination.
- </p>
- <p>
- The dark shadows of the men who were using the oars as poles, danced about
- the brilliant roof and floor of the cave, adding to the fantastic charm of
- the scene.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now,” said Brian, in a whisper, “these craythurs don’t understand
- anything that’s said to them unless by a human being, so we’ll need to be
- silent enough. We’ll be at the first ledge soon, and there maybe you’ll
- wait with the lady, Mr. Wynne—you’re heavier than Mr. Durdan, and
- every inch of water that the boat draws is worth thinking about. I’ll
- leave a candle with you, but not a word must you speak.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All right,” said Harold. “You’re the manager of the expedition; we must
- obey you; but I don’t exactly see where my share in the sport comes in.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’d explain it all if I could trust myself to speak,” said Brian. “The
- craythurs has ears.” The ledge referred to by him was reached in silence.
- It was perhaps six inches above the water, and in an emergency it might
- have afforded standing room for three persons. So much Harold saw by the
- light of the candle that the boatman placed in a niche of rock four feet
- above the water.
- </p>
- <p>
- At a sign from Brian, Harold got upon the ledge and helped Beatrice out of
- the boat.
- </p>
- <p>
- The light of the candle that was in the bow of the boat gleamed upon the
- figure of a man naked from the waist up, and wearing a hard round hat with
- a candle fastened to the brim.
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold knew that this was the costume of the seal-hunter of the Western
- caves, for he had had a talk with Brian on the subject, and had learned
- that only by swimming with a lighted candle on his forehead for a quarter
- of a mile, the hunter could reach the sealing ground at the termination of
- the cave.
- </p>
- <p>
- Without a word being spoken, the boat went on, and its light soon
- glimmered mysteriously in the distance.
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold and Beatrice stood side by side on the narrow ledge of rock and
- watched the dwindling of the light. The candle that was on the niche of
- rock almost beside them seemed dwindling also. It had become the merest
- spark. Harold saw that Brian had inadvertently placed it so that the
- dripping of the water from the roof sent flecks of damp upon the wick.
- </p>
- <p>
- He stretched out his hand to shift it to another place, but before he
- could touch it, a large stalactite dropped upon it, and not only
- extinguished it, but sent it into the water with a splash.
- </p>
- <p>
- The little cry that came from the girl as the blackness of darkness closed
- upon them, sounded to his ears as a reproach.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I had not touched it,” said he. “Something dropped from the roof upon it.
- You don’t mind the darkness?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, no—no,” said she, doubtfully. “But we were commanded to be
- dumb.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That command was given on the assumption that the candle would continue
- burning—now the conditions are changed,” said he, with a sophistry
- that would have done credit to a cabinet minister.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh,” said she.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a considerable pause before she asked him how long he thought it
- would be before the boat would return.
- </p>
- <p>
- He declined to bind himself to any expression of opinion on the subject.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then there was another pause, filled up only by the splash of something
- falling from the roof—by the wash of the water against the smooth
- rock.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wonder how it has come about that I am given a chance of speaking to
- you at last?” said he.
- </p>
- <p>
- “At last?” said she, repeating his words in the same tone of inquiry.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I say at last, because I have been waiting for such an opportunity for
- some time, but it did not come. I don’t suppose I was clever enough to
- make my opportunity, but now it has come, thank God.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Again there was silence. He seemed to think that he had said something
- requiring a reply from her, but she did not speak.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wonder if you would believe me when I say that I love you,” he
- remarked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” she replied, as naturally as though he had asked her what she
- thought of the weather. “Yes, I think I would believe you. If you did not
- love me—if I was not sure that you loved me, I should be the most
- miserable girl in all the world.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Great God!” he cried. “You do not mean to say that you love me,
- Beatrice?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you could only see my face now, you would know it,” said she. “My eyes
- would tell you all—no, not all—that is in my heart.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He caught her hands, after first grasping a few handfuls of clammy rock,
- for the hands of the truest lovers do not meet mechanically.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I see them,” he whispered—“I see your eyes through the darkness. My
- love, my love!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He did not kiss her. His soul revolted from the idea of the commonplace
- kiss in the friendly secrecy of the darkness.
- </p>
- <p>
- There are opportunities and opportunities. He believed that if he had
- kissed her then she would never have forgiven him, and he was right. “What
- a fool I was!” he cried. “Two nights ago, when I overheard a man tell you,
- as I had told you long ago—so long ago—more than a week ago—that
- he did not want you to pass out of his sight—when I heard you make
- the same promise to him as you had made to me, I felt as if there was
- nothing left for me in the world. I went out into the darkness, and as I
- stood at the place when I first saw you, I thought that I should be doing
- well if I were to throw myself headlong down those rocks into the sea that
- the rain was beating upon. Beatrice, God only knows if it would be better
- or worse for you if I had thrown myself down—if I were to leave you
- standing alone here now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do not say those words—they are like the words I asked you before
- not to say. Even then your words meant everything to me. They mean
- everything to me still.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He gave a little laugh. Triumph rang through it. He did not seem to think
- that his laughter might sound incongruous to her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This is my hour,” he said. “Whatever fate may have in store for me it
- cannot make me unlive this hour. And to think that I had got no idea that
- such an hour should ever come to me—that you should ever come to me,
- my beloved! But you came to me. You came to me when I had tried to bring
- myself to feel that there was something worth living for in the world
- apart from love.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now—and now—now I know that there is nothing but love
- that is worth living for. What is your thought, Beatrice—tell me all
- that is in your heart?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All—all?” She now gave the same little laugh that he had given. She
- felt that her turn had come.
- </p>
- <p>
- She gave just the same laugh when his feeling of triumph had given place
- to a very different feeling—when he had told her that he was a
- pauper—that he had no position in the world—that he was
- dependent upon his father for every penny that he had to spend, with the
- exception of a few hundred pounds a year, which he inherited from his
- mother—that it was an act of baseness on his part to tell her that
- he loved her.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had plenty of time for telling her all this, and for explaining his
- position thoroughly, for nearly an hour had passed before a gleam of light
- and a hail from the furthest recesses of the cave, made them aware of the
- fact that other interests than theirs existed in the world.
- </p>
- <p>
- And yet when he had told her all that he had to tell to his disadvantage,
- she gave that little laugh of triumph. He would have given a good deal to
- be able to see the expression which he knew was in those wonderful eyes of
- hers, as that laugh came from her.
- </p>
- <p>
- Not being able to do so, however, he could only crush her hands against
- his lips and reply to the boat’s hail.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brian, on hearing of the mishap to the candle, delivered a torrent of
- execration against himself. It took Harold some minutes to bring himself
- up to the point of Lord Innisfail’s enthusiasm on the subject of
- seal-fishing. Five excellent specimens were in the bottom of the boat, and
- the men who had swum after them were there also. A strong odour of whiskey
- was about them; and the general idea that prevailed was that they would
- not suffer from a chill, though they had been in the water for three
- quarters of an hour.
- </p>
- <p>
- As the other boats only succeeded in capturing three seals among them all,
- Brian had statistics to bear out his contention that the presence of
- Beatrice had brought luck to his boat.
- </p>
- <p>
- He pocketed two sovereigns which Harold handed him when the boats returned
- to the mooring-place, and he was more profuse than ever in his abuse of
- his own stupidity in placing the candle so as to be affected by the damp
- from the roof.
- </p>
- <p>
- His eyes twinkled all the time in a way that made Harold’s cheeks red.
- </p>
- <p>
- The judge found Miss Avon somewhat <i>distraite</i> after dinner that
- night. He became pensive in consequence. He wondered if she thought him
- elderly.
- </p>
- <p>
- He did not mind in the least growing old, but the idea of being thought
- elderly was abhorrent to him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next day Beatrice and her father returned to their cottage at the
- other side of the lough.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXV.—ON THE SOCIAL VALUE OF THE REPROBATE.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>OMETHING
- remarkable had occurred. Lord Fotheringay had been for a fortnight under
- one roof without disgracing himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- The charitable people said he was reforming.
- </p>
- <p>
- The others said he was aging rapidly.
- </p>
- <p>
- The fact remained the same, however: he had been a fortnight at the Castle
- and he had not yet disgraced himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Burgoyne congratulated Lady Innisfail upon this remarkable
- occurrence, and Lady Innisfail began to hope that it might get talked
- about. If her autumn party at Castle Innisfail were to be talked about in
- connection with the reform of Lord Fotheringay, much more interest would
- be attached to the party and the Castle than would be the result of the
- publication of the statistics of a gigantic shoot. Gigantic shoots did
- undoubtedly take place on the Innisfail Irish property, but they
- invariably took place before the arrival of Lord Innisfail and his guests,
- and the statistics were, for obvious reasons, not published. They only
- leaked out now and again.
- </p>
- <p>
- The most commonplace people might enjoy the reputation attaching to the
- careful preservation and the indiscriminate slaughter of game; but Lady
- Innisfail knew that the distinction accruing from a connection with a
- social scandal of a really high order, or with a great social reform—either
- as regards a hardened reprobate or an afternoon toilet—was something
- much greater.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of course, she understood perfectly well that in England the Divorce Court
- is the natural and legitimate medium for attaining distinction in the form
- of a Special Edition and a pen and ink portrait; but she had seen great
- things accomplished by the rumour of an unfair game of cards, as well as
- by a very daring skirt dance.
- </p>
- <p>
- Next to a high-class scandal, the discovery of a new religion was a means
- of reaching eminence, she knew. With the exact social value attaching to
- the Reform of a Hardened Reprobate, she was as yet unacquainted, the fact
- being that she had never had any experience of such an incident—it
- was certainly very rare in the society in which she moved, so that it is
- not surprising that she was not prepared to say at a moment how much it
- would count in the estimation of the world.
- </p>
- <p>
- But if the Reform of a Reprobate—especially a reprobate with a title—was
- so rare as to be uncatalogued, so to speak, surely it should be of
- exceptional value as a social incident. Should it not partake of the
- prestige which attaches to a rare occurrence?
- </p>
- <p>
- This was the way that Mrs. Burgoyne put the matter to her friend and
- hostess, and her friend and hostess was clever enough to appreciate the
- force of her phrases. She began to perceive that although Lord Fotheringay
- had come to the Castle on the slenderest of invitations, and simply
- because it suited his purpose—although she had been greatly annoyed
- at his sudden appearance at the Castle, still good might come of it.
- </p>
- <p>
- She did not venture to estimate from the standpoint of the moralist, the
- advantages accruing to the Reformed Reprobate himself from the incident of
- his reform, she merely looked at the matter from the standpoint of the
- woman of society—which is something quite different—desirous
- of attaining a certain social distinction.
- </p>
- <p>
- Thus it was that Lady Innisfail took to herself the credit of the Reform
- of the Reprobate, and petted the reprobate accordingly, giving no
- attention whatever to the affairs of his son. These affairs, interesting
- though they had been to her some time before, now became insignificant
- compared with the Great Reform.
- </p>
- <p>
- She even went the length of submitting to be confided in by Lord
- Fotheringay; and she heard, with genuine interest, from his own lips that
- he considered the world in general to be hollow. He had found it so. He
- had sounded the depths of its hollowness. He had found that in all grades
- of society there was much evil. The working classes—he had studied
- the question of the working man not as a parliamentary candidate,
- consequently honestly—drank too much beer. They sought happiness
- through the agency of beer; but all the beer produced by all the brewers
- in the House of Lords would not bring happiness to the working classes. As
- for the higher grades of society—the people who were guilty of
- partaking of unearned increment—well, they were wrong too. He
- thought it unnecessary to give the particulars of the avenues through
- which they sought happiness. But they were all wrong. The domestic life—there,
- and there only, might one find the elements of true happiness. He knew
- this because he had endeavoured to reach happiness by every other avenue
- and had failed in his endeavours. He now meant to supply his omission, and
- he regretted that it had never occurred to him to do so before. Yes, some
- poet or other had written something or other on the subject of the great
- charm of a life of domesticity, and Lord Fotheringay assured Lady
- Innisfail in confidence that that poet was right.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lady Innisfail sighed and said that the Home—the English Home—with
- its simple pleasures and innocent mirth, was where the Heart—the
- English Heart—was born. What happiness was within the reach of all
- if they would only be content with the Home! Society might be all very
- well in its way. There were duties to be discharged—every rank in
- life carried its duties with it; but how sweet it was, after one had
- discharged one’s social obligations, to find a solace in the retirement of
- Home.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lord Fotheringay lifted up his hands and said “Ah—ah,” in different
- cadences.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lady Innisfail folded her hands and shook her head with some degree of
- solemnity. She felt confident that if Lord Fotheringay was in earnest, her
- autumn party would be talked about with an enthusiasm surpassing that
- which would attach to the comments on any of the big shoots in Scotland,
- or in Yorkshire, or in Wales.
- </p>
- <p>
- But when Lord Fotheringay had an opportunity of conversing alone with Mr.
- Airey, he did not think it necessary to dwell upon the delights which he
- had begun to perceive might be found in a life of pure domesticity. He
- took the liberty of reminding Mr. Airey of the conversation they had on
- the morning after Miss Avon’s arrival at the Castle.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Had we a conversation then, Lord Fotheringay?” said Mr. Airey, in a tone
- that gave Lord Fotheringay to understand that if any contentious point was
- about to be discussed, it would rest with him to prove everything.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, we had a conversation,” said Lord Fotheringay. “I was foolish enough
- to make a confidant of you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you did so, you certainly were foolish,” said Edmund, quietly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have been keeping my eyes open and my ears open as well, during the
- past ten days,” said Lord Fotheringay, with a leer that was meant to be
- significant. Edmund Airey, however, only took it to signify that Lord
- Fotheringay could easily be put into a very bad temper. He said nothing,
- but allowed Lord Fotheringay to continue. “Yes, let me tell you that when
- I keep both eyes and ears open not much escapes me. I have seen and heard
- a good deal. You are a clever sort of person, friend Airey; but you don’t
- know the world as I know it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, no—as you know it—ah, no,” remarked Mr. Airey.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lord Fotheringay was a trifle put out by the irritating way in which the
- words were spoken. Still, the pause he made was not of long duration.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have your game to play, like other people, I suppose,” he resumed,
- after the little pause.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are at liberty to suppose anything you please, my dear Lord
- Fotheringay,” said Mr. Airey, with a smile.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come,” said Lord Fotheringay, adopting quite another tone. “Come, Airey,
- speaking as man to man, wasn’t it a confoundedly shabby trick for you to
- play upon me—getting me to tell you that I meant to marry that young
- thing—to save her from unhappiness, Airey?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well?” said Airey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well?” said Lord Fotheringay.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You didn’t complete your sentence. Was the shabby trick accepting your
- confidence?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The shabby trick was trying to win the affection of the young woman after
- I had declared to you my intention.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That was the shabby trick, was it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have no hesitation in saying that it was.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Very well. I hope that you have nothing more to confide in me beside this—your
- confidences have so far been singularly uninteresting.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Lord Fotheringay got really angry.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let me tell you—” he began, but he was stopped by Airey.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, I decline to let you tell me anything,” said he. “You accused me just
- now of being so foolish as to listen to your confidences. I, perhaps,
- deserved the reproach. But I should be a fool if I were to give you
- another chance of levelling the same accusation against me. You will have
- to force your confidences on someone else in future, unless such as
- concern your liver. You confided in me that your liver wasn’t quite the
- thing. How is it to-day?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I understand your tactics,” said Lord Fotheringay, with a snap. “And I’ll
- take good care to make others acquainted with them also,” he added. “Oh,
- no, Mr. Airey; I wasn’t born yesterday.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To that fact every Peerage in the kingdom bears testimony,” said Mr.
- Airey.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lord Fotheringay had neglected his cigar. It had gone out. He now took
- three or four violent puffs at it; he snapped it from between his teeth,
- looked at the end, and then dropped it on the ground and stamped on it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was your own fault,” said Airey. “Try one of mine, and don’t bother
- yourself with other matters.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll bother myself with what I please,” said Lord Fotheringay with a
- snarl.
- </p>
- <p>
- But he took Mr. Airey’s cigar, and smoked it to the end. He knew that Mr.
- Airey smoked Carolinas.
- </p>
- <p>
- This little scene took place outside the Castle before lunch on the second
- day after the departure of Mr. Avon and his daughter; and, after lunch,
- Lord Fotheringay put on a yachting jacket and cap, and announced his
- intention of having a stroll along the cliffs. His doctor had long ago
- assured him, he said, that he did not take sufficient exercise nor did he
- breathe enough fresh air. He meant in future to put himself on a strict
- regimen in this respect, and would begin at once.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was allowed to carry out his intention alone—indeed he did not
- hint that his medical adviser had suggested company as essential to the
- success of any scheme of open air exercise.
- </p>
- <p>
- The day was a breezy one, and the full force of the wind was felt at the
- summit of the cliff coast; but like many other gentlemen who dread being
- thought elderly, he was glad to seize every opportunity of showing that he
- was as athletic as the best of the young fellows; so he strode along,
- gasping and blowing with quite as much fresh air in his face as the most
- exacting physician could possibly have prescribed for a single dose.
- </p>
- <p>
- He made his way to the mooring-place of the boats, and he found Brian in
- the boat-house engaged in making everything snug.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was very civil to Brian, and after a transfer of coin, inquired about
- the weather.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a bit of a draught of wind in the lough, Brian said, but it was
- a fine day for a sail. Would his lardship have a mind for a bit of a sail?
- The <i>Acushla</i> was cruising, but the <i>Mavourneen</i>, a neat little
- craft that sailed like a swallow, was at his lardship’s service.
- </p>
- <p>
- After some little consideration, Lord Fotheringay said that though he had
- no idea of sailing when he left the Castle, yet he never could resist the
- temptation of a fine breeze—it was nothing stronger than a breeze
- that was blowing, was it?
- </p>
- <p>
- “A draught—just a bit of a draught,” said the man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “In that case,” said Lord Fotheringay, “I think I may venture. In fact,
- now that I come to think of it, I should like to visit the opposite shore.
- There is a Castle or something, is there not, on the opposite shore?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is it a Castle?” said Brian. “Oh, there’s a power of Castles scattered
- along the other shore, my lard. It’s thrippin’ over them your lardship
- will be after doin.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then we’ll not lose a moment in starting,” said Lord Fotheringay.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXVI.—ON FRANKNESS AND FRIENDSHIP.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>RIAN took care
- that no moment was lost. In the course of a very few minutes Lord
- Fotheringay was seated on the windward thwarts of the boat, his hands
- grasping the gunwale to right and left, and his head bowed to mitigate in
- some measure the force of the shower of sea-water that flashed over the
- boat as her hows neatly clipped the crest off every wave.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lord Fotheringay held on grimly. He hated the sea and all connected with
- it; though he hated the House of Lords to almost as great an extent, yet
- he had offered the promoter of the Channel Tunnel to attend in the House
- and lend the moral weight of his name to the support of the scheme. It was
- only the breadth and spontaneousness of Brian’s assurance that the breeze
- was no more than a draught, that had induced him to carry out his
- cherished idea of crossing the lough.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Didn’t I tell your lardship that the boat could sail with the best of
- them?” said the man, as he hauled in the sheet a trifle, and brought the
- boat closer to the wind—a manouvre that did not tend to lessen the
- cascade that deluged his passenger.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lord Fotheringay said not a word. He kept his head bowed to every flap of
- the waves beneath the bows. His attitude would have commended itself to
- any painter anxious to produce a type of Submission to the Will of Heaven.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was aging quickly—so much Brian perceived, and dwelt upon—with
- excellent effect—in his subsequent narrative of the voyage to some
- of the servants at the Castle. The cosmetic that will withstand the
- constant application of sea-water has yet to be invented, so that in half
- an hour Lord Fotheringay would not have been recognized except by his
- valet. Brian had taken aboard a well-preserved gentleman with a rosy
- complexion and a moustache almost too black for nature. The person who
- disembarked at the opposite side of the lough was a stooped old man with
- lank streaky cheeks and a wisp of gray hair on each side of his upper lip.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And it’s a fine sailor your lardship is entirely,” remarked the boatman,
- as he lent his tottering, dazed passenger a helping hand up the beach of
- pebbles. “And it’s raal enjoyment your lardship will be after having among
- the Castles of the ould quality, after your lardship’s sail.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Not a word did Lord Fotheringay utter. He felt utterly broken down in
- spirit, and it was not until he had got behind a rock and had taken out a
- pocket-comb and a pocket-glass, and had by these auxiliaries, and the
- application of a grain or two of roseate powder without which he never
- ventured a mile from his base of supplies, repaired some of the ravages of
- his voyage, that he ventured to make his way to the picturesque white
- cottage, which Miss Avon had once pointed out to him as the temporary
- residence of her father and herself.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a five-roomed cottage that had been built and furnished by an
- enthusiastic English fisherman for his accommodation during his annual
- residence in Ireland. One, more glance did Lord Fotheringay give to his
- pocket-mirror before knocking at the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- He would have had time to renew his youth, had he had his pigments handy,
- before the door was opened by an old woman with a shawl over her shoulders
- and a cap, that had possibly once been white, on her straggling hairs.
- </p>
- <p>
- She made the stage courtesy of an old woman in front of Lord Fotheringay,
- and explained that she was a little hard of hearing—she was even
- obliging enough to give a circumstantial account of the accident that was
- responsible for her infirmity.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Miss Avon?” said the old woman, when Lord Fotheringay had repeated his
- original request in a louder tone. “Miss Avon? no, she’s not here now—not
- even her father, who was a jewel of a gentleman, though a bit queer. God
- bless them both now that they have gone back to England, maybe never to
- return.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Back to England. When?” shouted Lord Fotheringay.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, since early in the morning. The Blessed Virgin keep the young lady
- from harm, for she’s swater than honey, and the Saints preserve her
- father, for he was—”
- </p>
- <p>
- Lord Fotheringay did not wait to hear the position of the historian
- defined by the old woman. He turned away from the door with such words as
- caused her infirmity to be a blessing in disguise.
- </p>
- <p>
- When Brian greeted his return with a few well-chosen phrases bearing upon
- the architecture of the early Celtic nobles, Lord Fotheringay swore at
- him; but the boatman, who did a little in that way himself when under
- extreme provocation, only smiled as Lord Fotheringay took his seat in the
- boat once more, and prepared for the ordeal of his passage.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a good deal in Brian’s smile.
- </p>
- <p>
- The wind had changed most unaccountably, he explained, so that it would,
- he feared, be absolutely necessary to tack out almost to the entrance of
- the lough in order to reach the mooring-place. For the next hour he became
- the exponent of every system of sailing known to modern navigators. After
- something over an hour of this manoeuvring, he had compassion upon his
- victim, and ran the boat before the wind—he might have done so at
- first if Lord Fotheringay had not shown such a poor knowledge of men as to
- swear at him—to the mooring-place.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If it’s not making too free with your lardship, I’d offer your lardship a
- hand up the track,” said Brian. “It’s myself that has to go up to the
- Castle anyway, with a letter to her ladyship from Miss Avon. Didn’t the
- young lady give it to me in the morning before she started with his honour
- her father on the car?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you knew all this time that Miss Avon and her father had left the
- neighbourhood?” said Lord Fotheringay, through his store teeth.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tubbe sure I did,” said Brian. “But Miss Avon didn’t live in one of the
- Castles of the ould quality that your lardship was so particular ready to
- explore.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Lord Fotheringay felt that his knowledge of the world and the dwellers
- therein had its limits.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was at Lord Fotheringay’s bedside that Harold said his farewell to his
- father the next day. Lord Fotheringay’s incipient rheumatism had been
- acutely developed by his drenching of the previous afternoon, and he
- thought it prudent to remain in bed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’re going, are you?” snarled the Father.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I’m going,” replied the Son. “Lord and Lady Innisfail leave
- to-morrow.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you asked Miss Craven to marry you?” inquired the Father.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” said Harold.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why not—tell me that?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I haven’t made up my mind on the subject of marrying.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then the sooner you make it up the better it will be for yourself. I’ve
- been watching you pretty closely for some days—I did not fail to
- notice a certain jaunty indifference to what was going on around you on
- the night of your return from that tomfoolery in the boats—seal-hunting,
- I think they called it. I saw the way you looked at Helen Craven that
- night. Contempt, or something akin to contempt, was in every glance. Now
- you know that she is to be at Ella’s in October. You have thus six weeks
- to make up your mind to marry her. If you make up your mind to marry
- anyone else, you may make up your mind to live upon the three hundred a
- year that your mother left you. Not a penny you will get from me. I’ve
- stinted myself hitherto to secure you your allowance. By heavens, I’ll not
- do so any longer. You will only receive your allowance from me for another
- year, and then only by signing a declaration at my lawyer’s to the effect
- that you are not married. I’ve heard of secret marriages before now, but
- you needn’t think of that little game. That’s all I’ve to say to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And it is enough,” said Harold. “Good-bye.” He left the room and then he
- left the Castle, Lady Innisfail only shaking her head and whispering, “You
- have disappointed me,” as he made his adieux.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next day all the guests had departed—all, with the exception of
- Lord Fotheringay, who was still too ill to move. In the course of some
- days, however, the doctor thought that he might without risk—except,
- of course, such as was incidental to the conveyance itself—face a
- drive on an outside car, to the nearest railway-station.
- </p>
- <p>
- Before leaving him, as she was compelled to do owing to her own
- engagements, Lady Innisfail had another interesting conversation—it
- almost amounted to a consultation—with her friend Mrs. Burgoyne on
- the subject of the Reform of the Hardened Reprobate. And the result of
- their further consideration of the subject from every standpoint, was to
- induce them to believe that, with such a powerful incentive to the Higher
- Life as an acute rheumatic attack, Lord Fotheringay’s reform might safely
- be counted on. It might, at any rate, be freely discussed during the
- winter. If, subsequently, he should become a backslider, it would not
- matter. His reform would have gone the way of all topics.
- </p>
- <p>
- Helen Craven and Edmund Airey had also a consultation together on the
- subject upon which they had previously talked more than once.
- </p>
- <p>
- Each of them showed such an anxiety to give prominence to the circumstance
- that they were actuated solely for Harold’s benefit in putting into
- practice the plan which one of them had suggested, it was pretty clear
- that they had an uneasy feeling that they required some justification for
- the course which they had thought well to pursue.
- </p>
- <p>
- Yes, they agreed that Harold should be placed beyond the power of his
- father. Mr. Airey said he had never met a more contemptible person than
- Lord Fotheringay, and for the sake of making Harold independent of such a
- father, he would, he declared, do again all that he had done during the
- week of Miss Avon’s sojourn at the Castle.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was, indeed, sad, Miss Craven felt, that Harold should have such a
- father.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perhaps it was because I felt this so strongly that I—I—well,
- I began to ask myself if there might not be some way of escape for him,”
- said she, in a pensive tone that was quite different from the tone of the
- frank communication that she had made to Mr. Airey some time before.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I can quite understand that,” said Edmund. “Well, though Harold hasn’t
- shown himself to be wise—that is—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We both know what that means,” said she, anticipating his definition of
- wisdom so far as Harold was concerned.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We do,” said Edmund. “If he has not shown himself to be wise in this way,
- he has not shown himself to be a fool in another way.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I suppose he has not,” said she, thoughtfully.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Great heavens! you don’t mean to think that—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That he has told Beatrice Avon that he loves her? No, I don’t fancy that
- he has, still—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Still?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, I thought that, on their return from that awful seal-hunt, I saw a
- change in both of them. It seemed to me that—that—well, I
- don’t quite know how I should express it. Haven’t you seen a thirsty look
- on a man’s face?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “A thirsty look? I believe I have seen it on a woman’s face.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It may be the same. Well, Harold Wynne’s face wore such an expression for
- days before the seal-hunt—I can’t say that I noticed it on Beatrice
- Avon’s face at the same time; but so soon as they returned from the boats
- on that evening, I noticed the change on Harold’s—perhaps it was
- only fancy.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am inclined to believe that it was fancy. In my belief none of us was
- quite the same after that wild cruise. I was beside Miss Avon all the time
- that we were sailing out to the caves, and though she and Harold were in
- the boat together, yet Lord Innisfail and Durdan were in the same boat
- also. I can’t see how they could have had any time for an understanding
- while they were engaged in looking after the seals.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Miss Craven shook her head doubtfully. It was clear that she was a
- believer in the making of opportunities in such matters as those which
- they were discussing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Anyhow, we have done all that we could reasonably be expected to do,”
- said she.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And perhaps a trifle over,” said he. “If it were not that I like Harold
- so much—and you, too, my dear”—this seemed an afterthought—“I
- would not have done all that I have done. It is quite unlikely that Miss
- Avon and I shall be under the same roof again, but if we should be, I
- shall, you may be certain, find out from her whether or not an
- understanding exists between her and Harold. But what understanding could
- it be?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Miss Craven smiled. Was this the man who had made such a reputation for
- cleverness, she asked herself—a man who placed a limit on the
- opportunities of lovers, and then inquired what possible understanding
- could be come to between a penniless man and a girl with “a gray eye or
- so.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What understanding?” said she. “Why, he may have unfolded to her a scheme
- for becoming Lord High Chancellor after two year’s hard work at the bar,
- with a garden-party now and again; or for being made a Bishop in the same
- time; and their understanding may be to wait for one another until the
- arrival of either event. Never mind. We have done our best for him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “For them,” said Edmund.
- </p>
- <p>
- Yes, he tried to bring himself to believe that all that he had done was
- for the benefit of his friend Harold and for his friend Beatrice—to
- say nothing of his friend Helen as well. After a time he did almost force
- himself to believe that there was nothing that was not strictly honourable
- in the endeavour that he had made, at Helen’s suggestion, to induce
- Beatrice Avon to perceive the possibility of her obtaining a proposal of
- marriage from a rich and distinguished man, if she were only to decline to
- afford the impecunious son of a dissolute peer an opportunity of telling
- her that he loved her.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now and again, however, he had an uneasy twinge, as the thought occurred
- to him that if some man, understanding the exact circumstances of the
- case, were to be as frank with him as Helen Craven had been (once), that
- man might perhaps be led to say that he had been making a fool of Beatrice
- for the sake of gratifying his own vanity.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was just possible, and he knew it, that that frank friend—assuming
- that frankness and friendship may exist together—might be disposed
- to give prominence in this matter to the impulses of vanity, to the
- exclusion of the impulses of friendship, and a desire to set the crooked
- straight.
- </p>
- <p>
- Even the fortnight which he spent in Norway with one of the heads of the
- Government party—a gentleman who would probably have shortly at his
- disposal an important Under-Secretaryship—failed quite to abate
- these little twinges that he had when he reflected upon the direction that
- might be taken by a frank friend, in considering the question of the
- responsibility involved in his attitude toward Miss Avon.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was just a week after Lord Fotheringay had left Castle Innisfail that a
- stranger appeared in the neighbourhood—a strange gentleman with the
- darkest hair and the fiercest eyes ever seen, even in that region of dark
- hair and eyes. He inquired who were the guests at the Castle, and when he
- learned that the last of them—a distinguished peer named Lord
- Fotheringay—had gone some time, and that it was extremely unlikely
- that the Castle would be open for another ten months, his eyes became
- fiercer than ever. He made use of words in a strange tongue, which Brian
- declared, if not oaths, would do duty for oaths without anyone being the
- wiser.
- </p>
- <p>
- The stranger departed as mysteriously as he had come.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXVII.—ON CIRCUMVENTING A STAG.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>F Edmund Airey had
- a good deal to think about in Norway, Harold Wynne was certainly not
- without a subject for thought in Scotland.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was with a feeling of exultation that he had sat in the bows of the
- cutter <i>Acushla</i> on her return to her moorings after that seal-hunt
- which everyone agreed had been an extraordinary success. Had this
- expression of exultation been noticed by Lady Innisfail, it would,
- naturally, have been attributed by her to the fact that he had been in the
- boat that had made the largest catch of seals. To be sure, Miss Craven,
- who had observed at least a change in the expression upon his face, did
- not attribute it to his gratification on having slaughtered some seals,
- but then Miss Craven was more acute than an ordinary observer.
- </p>
- <p>
- He felt that he did well to be exultant, as he looked at Beatrice Avon
- standing by the side of Lord Innisfail at the tiller. The wind that filled
- the mainsail came upon her face and held her garments against her body,
- revealing every gracious curve of her shape, and suggesting to his eyes a
- fine piece of sculpture with flying drapery.
- </p>
- <p>
- And she was his.
- </p>
- <p>
- It seemed to him when he had begun to speak to her in the solemn darkness
- of the seal-cave, that it was impossible that he could receive any answer
- from her that would satisfy him. How was it possible that she could love
- him, he had asked himself at some agonizing moments during the week. He
- thought that she might possibly have come to love him in time, if she had
- not been with him in the boat during that night of mist, when the voice of
- Helen Craven had wailed round the cliffs. Her arrival at the Castle could
- not but have revealed to her the fact that she might obtain an offer of
- marriage from someone who was socially far above him; and thus he had
- almost lost all hope of her.
- </p>
- <p>
- And yet she was his.
- </p>
- <p>
- The course adopted by his friend Edmund Airey had astonished him. He could
- not believe that Airey had fallen in love with her. It was not consistent
- with Airey’s nature to fall in love with anyone, he believed. But he knew
- that in the matter of falling in love, people do not always act
- consistently with their character; so that, after all, Airey might be only
- waiting an opportunity to tell her that he had fallen in love with her.
- </p>
- <p>
- The words that he had overheard Airey speak to her upon the night of the
- <i>tableaux</i> in the hall—words that had driven him out into the
- night of rain and storm to walk madly along the cliffs, and to wonder if
- he were to throw himself into the waves beneath, would he be strong enough
- to let himself sink into their depths or weak enough to make a struggle
- for life—those words had cleared away whatever doubts he had
- entertained as to Edmund’s intentions.
- </p>
- <p>
- And yet she was his.
- </p>
- <p>
- She had answered his question so simply and clearly—with such
- earnestness and tenderness as startled him. It seemed that they had come
- to love each other, as he had read of lovers doing, from the first moment
- that they had met. It seemed that her love had, like his, only increased
- through their being kept apart from each other—mainly by the clever
- device of Miss Craven and the co-operation of Edmund Airey, though, of
- course, Harold did not know this.
- </p>
- <p>
- His reflections upon this marvel—the increase of their love, though
- they had few opportunities of being together and alone—would have
- been instructive even to persons so astute and so ready to undertake the
- general control of events as Mr. Airey and Miss Craven. Unfortunately,
- however, they were as ignorant of what had taken place to induce these
- reflections as he was of the conspiracy between them to keep him apart
- from Beatrice to secure his happiness and the happiness of Beatrice.
- </p>
- <p>
- The fact that Beatrice loved him and had confessed her love for him,
- though they had had so few opportunities of being together, seemed to him
- the greatest of all the marvels that he had recently experienced.
- </p>
- <p>
- As he gave a farewell glance at the lough and recollected how, a fortnight
- before, he had walked along the cliffs and had cast to the winds all his
- cherished ideas of love, he could not help feeling that he had been
- surrounded with marvels. He had had a narrow escape—he actually
- regarded a goodlooking young woman with several thousands of pounds of an
- income, as a narrow escape.
- </p>
- <p>
- This was the last of the reflections that came to him with the sound of
- the green seas choked in the narrows of the lough.
- </p>
- <p>
- The necessity of preserving himself from sudden death—the Irish
- outside car on which he was driving was the worst specimen he had yet seen—absorbed
- all his thoughts when he had passed through the village of Ballycruiskeen;
- and by the time he had got out of the train that carried him to the East
- Coast—a matter of six hours travelling—and aboard the steamer
- that bore him to Glasgow, the exultation that he had felt on leaving
- Castle Innisfail, and on reflecting upon the great happiness that had come
- to him, was considerably chastened.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was due at two houses in Scotland. At the first he meant to do a little
- shooting. The place was not inaccessible. After a day’s travelling he
- found himself at a railway station fifteen miles from his destination. He
- eventually reached the place, however, and he had some shooting, which,
- though indifferent, was far better than it was possible to obtain on Lord
- Innisfail’s mountains—at least for Lord Innisfail’s guests to
- obtain.
- </p>
- <p>
- The second place was still further north—it was now and again
- alluded to as the North Pole by some visitors who had succeeded in finding
- their way to it, in spite of the directions given to them by the various
- authorities on the topography of the Highlands. Several theories existed
- as to the best way of reaching this place, and Harold, who knew sufficient
- Scotch to be able to take in the general meaning of the inhabitants
- without the aid of an interpreter, was made aware while at the shooting
- lodge, of these theories. Hearing, however, that some persons had actually
- been known to find the place, he felt certain that they had struck out an
- independent course for themselves. It was incredible to him that any of
- them had reached it by following the directions they had received on the
- subject. He determined to follow their example; and he had reached the
- place—eventually.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was when he had been for three days following a stag, that he began to
- think of his own matters in a dispassioned way. Crawling on one’s stomach
- along a mile or two of boggy land and then wriggling through narrow spaces
- among the rocks—sitting for five or six hours on gigantic sponges
- (damp) of heather, with one’s chin on one’s knees for strategical
- purposes, which the gillies pretend they understand, but which they keep a
- dead secret—shivering as the Scotch mist clothes one as with a wet
- blanket, then being told suddenly that there is a stag thirty yards to
- windward—getting a glimpse of it, missing it, and then hearing the
- gillies exchanging remarks in a perfectly intelligible Gaelic regarding
- one’s capacity—these incidents constitute an environment that tends
- to make one look dispassionately upon such marvels as Harold had been
- considering in a very different spirit while the Irish lough was yet
- within hearing.
- </p>
- <p>
- On the third day that he had been trying to circumvent the stag, Harold
- felt despondent—not about the stag, for he had long ago ceased to
- take any interest in the brute—but about his own future.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is to be regretted (sometimes) that an exchange of sentiments on the
- subject of love between lovers does not bring with it a change of
- circumstances, making possible the realization of a scheme of life in
- which those sentiments shall play an active part—or at least as
- active a part as sentiments can play. This was Harold’s great regret.
- Since he had found that he loved Beatrice and that Beatrice loved him, the
- world naturally appeared lovelier also. But it was with the loveliness of
- a picture that hangs in a public gallery, not as an individual possession.
- </p>
- <p>
- His material circumstances, so far from having improved since he had
- confessed to Edmund Airey that it was necessary for him to marry a woman
- with money, had become worse; and yet he had given no thought to the young
- woman with the money, but a great many thoughts to the young woman who
- had, practically, none. He felt that no more unsatisfactory state of
- matters could be imagined. And yet he felt that it would be impossible to
- take any steps with a view of bringing about a change.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had received several letters from Beatrice, and he had written several
- to her; but though in more than one he had told her in that plain strain
- which one adopts when one does not desire to be in any way convincing,
- that it was a most unfortunate day for her when she met him, still he did
- not suggest that their correspondence should cease.
- </p>
- <p>
- What was to be the end of their love?
- </p>
- <p>
- It was the constant attempt to answer this question that gave the stag his
- chance of life when, on the afternoon of the third day, Harold was
- commanded by his masters the gillies to fire into that thickening in the
- mist which he was given to understand by an unmistakable pantomime, was
- the stag.
- </p>
- <p>
- While the gillies were exchanging their remarks in Gaelic, flavouring them
- with very smoky whiskey, he was thinking, not of the escape of the stag,
- but of what possible end there could be to the love that existed between
- Beatrice and himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was the renewed thinking upon this question that brought about the
- death of that particular stag and two others before the next evening, for
- he had arrived at a point when he felt that he must shoot either a stag or
- himself. He had arrived at a condition of despair that made pretty severe
- demands upon him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The slaughter of the stags saved him. When he saw their bodies stretched
- before him he felt exultant once more. He felt that he had overcome his
- fate; and it was the next morning before he realized the fact that he had
- done nothing of the sort—that the possibility of his ever being able
- to marry Beatrice Avon was as remote as it had been when he had fired
- blindly into the mist, and his masters, who had carried the guns,
- exhausted (he believed) the resources, of Gaelic sarcasm in comment.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXVIII.—ON ENJOYING A RESPITE.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>T was the first
- week in October when Harold Wynne found himself in London. He had got a
- letter from Beatrice in which she told him that she and her father would
- return to London from Holland that week. Mr. Avon had conscientiously
- followed the track of an Irish informer in whom he was greatly interested,
- and who had, at the beginning of the century, found his way to Holland,
- where he was looked upon as a poor exile from Erin. He had betrayed about
- a dozen of his fellow-countrymen to their enemies, and had then returned
- to Ireland to live to an honoured old age on the proceeds of the bargain
- he had made for their heads.
- </p>
- <p>
- The result of Harold’s consideration of the position that he occupied in
- regard to Beatrice, was this visit to London. He made up his mind that he
- should see her and tell her that, like Mrs. Browning’s hero, he loved her
- so well that he only could leave her.
- </p>
- <p>
- He could bring himself to do it, he felt. He believed that he was equal to
- an act of heroic self-sacrifice for the sake of the girl—that was
- how he put the matter to himself when being soaked on the Scotch mountain.
- Yes, he would go to her and tell her that the conclusion to which he had
- come was that they must forget one another—that only unhappiness
- could result from the relationship that existed between them. He knew that
- there is no more unsatisfactory relationship between a man and a woman
- than that which has love for a basis, but with no prospect of marriage;
- and he knew that so long as his father lived and continued selfish—and
- only death could divide him from his selfishness—marriage with
- Beatrice was out of the question.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was with this resolution upon him that he drove to the address in the
- neighbourhood of the British Museum, where Beatrice said she was to be
- found with her father.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was one of those mansions which at some period in the early part of the
- century had been almost splendid; now it was simply large. It was not the
- house that Harold would have cared to occupy, even rent free—and
- this was a consideration to him. But for a scholar who had a large library
- of his own, and who found it necessary to be frequently in the
- neighbourhood of the larger Library at the Museum, the house must
- undoubtedly have had its advantages.
- </p>
- <p>
- She was not at home. The elderly butler said that Mr. Avon had found it
- necessary to visit Brussels for a few days, and he had thus been delayed
- on the Continent beyond the date he had appointed for his return. He would
- probably be in England by the end of the week—the day was Wednesday.
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold left the gloom of Bloomsbury behind him, feeling a curious
- satisfaction at having failed to see Beatrice—the satisfaction of a
- respite. Some days must elapse before he could make known his resolution
- to her.
- </p>
- <p>
- He strolled westward to a club of which he was a member—the Bedouin,
- and was about to order dinner, when someone came behind him and laid a
- hand, by no means gently, on his shoulder. Some of the Bedouins thought it
- <i>de rigueur</i> to play such pranks upon each other; and, to do them
- justice, it was only rarely that they dislocated a friend’s shoulder or
- gave a nervous friend a fit. People said one never knew what was coming
- from the moment they entered the Bedouin Club, and the prominent Bedouins
- accepted this statement as embodying one of the most agreeable of its many
- distinctive features.
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold was always prepared for the worst in this place, so when the force
- of the blow swung him round and he saw an extremely plain arrangement of
- features, distorted by a smile of extraordinary breadth, beneath a
- closely-cropped crown of bright red hair, he merely said, “Hallo, Archie,
- you here? I thought you were in South Africa lion-hunting or something.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The smile that had previously distorted the features of the young man, was
- of such fulness that it might reasonably have been taken for granted that
- it could not be increased; the possessor showed, however, that that smile
- was not the result of a supreme effort. So soon as Harold had spoken he
- gave a wink, and that wink seemed to release the mechanical system by
- which his features were contorted, for in an instant his face became one
- mouth. In plain words, this mouth of the young man had swallowed up his
- other features. All that could be seen of his face was that enormous mouth
- flanked by a pair of enormous ears, like plantain leaves growing on each
- side of the crater of a volcano.
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold looked at him and laughed, then picked up a <i>menu</i> card and
- studied it until he calculated that the young man whom he had addressed as
- Archie should have thrown off so much of his smile as would enable him to
- speak.
- </p>
- <p>
- He gave him plenty of time, and when he looked round he saw that some of
- the young man’s features had succeeded in struggling to the surface, as it
- were, beneath the circular mat of red hair that lay between his ears.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No South Africa for me, tarty chip,” said Archie. (“Tarty chip” was the
- popular term of address that year among young men about town. Its
- philological significance was never discovered.)
- </p>
- <p>
- “No South Africa for me; I went one better than that,” continued the young
- man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I doubt it,” said Harold. “I’ve had my eye on you until lately. You have
- usually gone one worse. Have you any money left—tell the truth?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Money? I asked the tarty chips that look after that sort of thing for me
- how I stood the other day,” said Archie, “and I’m ashamed to say that I’ve
- been spending less than my income—that is until a couple of months
- ago. I’ve still about three million. What does that mean?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That you’ve got rid of about a million inside two years,” said Harold.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’re going it blind,” said Archie. “It only means that I’ve spent fifty
- decimals in eighteen months. I can spare that, tarty chip.” (It may
- possibly be remembered that in the slang of the year a decimal signified a
- thousand pounds.) “That means that you’ve squandered a fortune, Archie,”
- said Harold, thinking what fifty thousand pounds would mean to him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There’s not much of a squander in the deal when I got value for it,” said
- Archie. “I got plenty of value. I’ve got to know all about this world.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you’ll soon get to know all about the next, if you go on at this
- rate,” said Harold.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not me; I’ve got my money in sound places. You heard about my show.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your show? I’ve heard about nothing for the past year but your shows.
- What’s the latest? I want something to eat.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, come with me to my private trough,” cried the young man. “Don’t lay
- down a mosaic pavement in your inside in this hole. Come along, tarty
- chip; I’ve got a <i>chef</i> named Achille—he knows what suits us—also
- some ‘84 Heidsieck. Come along with me, and I’ll tell you all about the
- show. We’ll go there together later on. We’ll take supper with her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh! with her?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To be sure. You don’t mean to say that you haven’t heard that I’ve taken
- the Legitimate Theatre for Mrs. Mowbray? Where on God’s footstool have you
- been for the past month?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not further than the extreme North of Scotland. It was far enough. I saw
- a paragraph stating that Mrs. Mowbray, after being a failure in a number
- of places, had taken the Legitimate. What has that got to say to you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not much, but I’ve got a good deal to say to it. Oh, come along, and I’ll
- tell you all about it. I’m building a monument for myself. I’ve got the
- Legitimate and I mean to make Irving and the rest of them sit up.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXIX.—ON THE ADVANTAGES OF READY MONEY.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>RCHIE BROWN was
- the only son of Mr. John Brown, the eminent contractor. Mr. John Brown had
- been a man of simple habits and no tastes. When a working navvy he had
- acquired a liking for oatmeal porridge, and up to the day of his death,
- when he had some twenty thousand persons in his employment, each of them
- earning money for him, he never rose above this comestible. He lived a
- thoroughly happy life, taking no thought about money, and having no idea,
- beyond the building of drinking fountains in his native town, how to spend
- the profits realized on his enormous transactions.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now, as the building of even the most complete system of drinking
- fountains, in a small town in Scotland, does not produce much impression
- upon the financial position of a man with some millions of pounds in cash,
- and making business profits to the extent of two hundred thousand a year,
- it was inevitable that, when a brick one afternoon fell on Mr. John
- Brown’s head and fractured his skull so severely as to cause his death,
- his only son should be left very well provided for.
- </p>
- <p>
- Archie Brown was left provided with some millions in cash, and with
- property that yielded him about one hundred pounds a day.
- </p>
- <p>
- Up to the day of his father’s death he had never had more than five
- hundred a year to spend as pocket-money—he had saved even out of
- this modest sum, for he had scarcely any more expensive tastes than his
- father, though he had ever regarded <i>sole à la Normande</i> as more
- palatable than oatmeal porridge as a breakfast dish.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had never caused his father a moment’s uneasiness; but as soon as he
- was given a bird’s eye view, so to speak, of his income, he began to ask
- himself if there might not be something in the world more palatable even
- than <i>sole à la Normande</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the course of a year or two he had learned a good deal on the subject
- of what was palatable and what was not; for from the earliest records it
- is understood that the knowledge of good and the knowledge of evil may be
- found on the one tree.
- </p>
- <p>
- He began to be talked about, and that is always worth paying money for—some
- excellent judges say that it is the only thing worth paying money for.
- Occasionally he paid a trifle over the market price for this commodity.
- But then he knew that he generally paid more than the market price for
- everything that he bought, from his collars, which were unusually high,
- down to his boots, which were of glazed kid, so that he did not complain.
- </p>
- <p>
- He found that, after a while, the tradespeople, seeing that he paid them
- cash, treated him fairly, and that the person who supplied him with cigars
- was actually generous when he bought them by the thousand.
- </p>
- <p>
- People who at first had fancied that Mr. Archibald Brown was a plunger—that
- is, a swindler whom they could swindle out of his thousands—had
- reason to modify their views on the subject after some time. For six
- months he had been imposed upon in many directions. But with all the other
- things which had to be paid for, the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of
- Good and Evil should, he knew, be included. Imported in a fresh condition
- this was, he knew, expensive; but he had a sufficient acquaintance with
- the elements of fruit-culture to be well aware of the fact that in this
- condition it is worth very much more than the canned article.
- </p>
- <p>
- He bought his knowledge of good and evil fresh.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was no fool, some people said, exultantly.
- </p>
- <p>
- These were the people whose friends had tried to impose on him but had not
- succeeded.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was no fool, some people said regretfully.
- </p>
- <p>
- These were the people who had tried to impose on him but had not
- succeeded.
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold had always liked Archie Brown, and he had offered him much advice—vegetarian
- banquets of the canned fruit of the Tree of Knowledge. The shrewd
- outbursts of confidence in which Archie indulged now and again, showed
- Harold that he was fast coming to understand his position in society—his
- friends and his enemies.
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold, after some further persuasion, got into the hansom which Archie
- had hailed, and was soon driving down Piccadilly to the spacious rooms of
- the latter—rooms furnished in a wonderful fashion. As a panorama of
- styles the sitting-room, which was about thirty feet square, with a
- greenhouse in the rear, would have been worth much to a lecturer on the
- progress or decadence of art—any average lecturer could make the
- furniture bear out his views, whether they took one direction or the
- other.
- </p>
- <p>
- Two cabinets which had belonged to Louis XV were the finest specimens
- known in the world. They contained Sèvres porcelain and briar-root pipes.
- A third cabinet was in the purest style of boarding house art. A small
- gilt sofa was covered with old French tapestry which would have brought
- five pounds the square inch at an auction. Beside it was the famous
- Four-guinea Tottenham Armchair in best Utrecht velvet—three-nine-six
- in cretonne, carriage paid to any railway-station in the United Kingdom.
- </p>
- <p>
- A chair, the frame of which was wholly of ivory, carved in Italy, in the
- seventeenth century, by the greatest artist that ever lived, apparently
- had its uses in Archie Brown’s <i>entourage</i>, for it sustained in an
- upright position a half-empty soda-water bottle—the bottle would not
- have stood upright but for the high relief in the carving of the flowing
- hair of the figure of Atalanta at one part of the frame. Near it was an
- interesting old oak chair that was for some time believed to have once
- belonged to King Henry VIII.
- </p>
- <p>
- In achieving this striking contrast to the carved ivory, Mr. Brown thought
- that he had proved his capacity to appreciate an important element in
- artistic arrangement. He pointed it out to Harold without delay. He had
- pointed it out to every other person who had visited his rooms.
- </p>
- <p>
- He also pointed out a picture by one Rembrandt which he had picked up at
- an auction for forty shillings. A dealer had subsequently assured him that
- if he wanted a companion picture by the same painter he would not
- guarantee to procure it for him at a lower figure than twenty-five guineas—perhaps
- it might even cost him as high as thirty; therefore—the logic was
- Archie’s—the Rembrandt had been a dead bargain.
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold looked at this Burgomaster’s Daughter in eighteenth century
- costume, and said that undoubtedly the painter knew what he was about.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And so does Archie, tarty chip,” said his host, leading him to one of the
- bedrooms.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now it’s half past seven,” said Archie, leaving him, “and dinner will be
- served at a quarter to eight. I’ve never been late but once, and Achille
- was so hurt that he gave me notice. I promised that it should never occur
- again, and it hasn’t. He doesn’t insist on my dressing for dinner, though
- he says he should like it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Make my apologies to Achille,” said Harold.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, that won’t be necessary,” said Archie seriously—“at least I
- think it won’t.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold had never been in these rooms before—he wondered how it had
- chanced that he came to them at all. But before he had partaken of more
- than one of the <i>hors d’ouvres</i>—there were four of them—he
- knew that he had done well to come. Achille was an artist, the Sauterne
- was Chateau Coutet of 1861, and the champagne was, as Archie had promised
- it should be, Heidsieck of 1884. The electric light was artfully toned
- down, and the middle-aged butler understood his business.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This is the family trough,” said Archie. “I say, Harry, isn’t it one
- better than the oatmeal porridge of our dads—I mean of my dad;
- yours, I know, was always one of us; my dad wasn’t, God bless him! If he
- had been we shouldn’t be here now. He’d have died a pauper.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold so far forgot himself as to say, “Doesn’t Carlyle remark somewhere
- that it’s the fathers who work that the sons—ah, never mind.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Carlyle? What Carlyle was that? Do I know him?” asked Archie.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” said Harold, shaking his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He isn’t a tarty chip, eh?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tart, not tarty.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh. Don’t neglect this jelly. It’s the best thing that Achille does. It’s
- the only thing that he ever repeats himself in. He came to me boasting
- that he could give me three hundred and sixty-five different dinners in
- the year. ‘That’s all very well,’ said I, ‘but what about Leap Year?’ I
- showed him there that his bluff wouldn’t do. ‘Pass’ said I, and he passed.
- But we understand one another now. I will say that he has never repeated
- himself except in this jelly. I make him give it to me once a week.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’re right,” said Harold. “It is something to think about.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, while you’re in front of it, but never after,” said Archie. “That’s
- what Achille says. ‘The true dinner,’ says he, ‘is the one that makes you
- think while you’re at it, but that never causes you a thought
- afterwards.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Achille is more than an artist, he is a philosopher,” said Harold. “What
- does he call this?” he glanced at the menu card. “‘<i>Glace à la chagrin
- d’Achille</i>’ What does he mean by that? ‘The chagrin of Achilles’? Where
- does the chagrin come in?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, he has some story about a namesake of his,” said Archie. “He was cut
- up about something, and he wouldn’t come out of the marquee.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The tent,” cried Harold. “Achilles sulked in his tent. Of course, that’s
- the ‘<i>chagrin d’Achille</i>.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, you heard of it too? Then the story has managed to leak out somehow.
- They always do. There’s nothing in it. Now I’ll tell you all about the
- show. Try one of these figs.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold helped himself to a green fig, the elderly butler placed a decanter
- of claret on the table, and disappeared with the noiselessness of a
- shadow.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXX.—ON THE LEGITIMATE IN ART.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>HEN the history of
- the drama in England during the last twenty years of the nineteenth
- century comes to be written, the episode of the management of the
- Legitimate Theatre by Mrs. Mowbray will doubtless be amply treated from
- the standpoint of art, and the historian will, it may be confidently
- expected, lament the want of appreciation on the part of the public for
- the Shakespearian drama, to which the closing of the Legitimate Theatre
- was due.
- </p>
- <p>
- There were a considerable number of persons, however, who showed a
- readiness to assert that the management of the Legitimate by Mrs. Mowbray
- should be looked upon as a purely—only purely was not the word they
- used—social incident, having no basis whatever in art. It failed,
- they said, not because the people of England had ceased to love
- Shakespeare, but because Mr. Archie Brown had ceased to love Mrs. Mowbray.
- </p>
- <p>
- However this may be, there were also people who said that the Legitimate
- Theatre under the management of Mrs. Mowbray could not have been so great
- a financial failure, after all; for Mrs. Mowbray, when her season came to
- an end, wore as expensive dresses as ever, and drove as expensive horses
- as ever; and as everyone who had been associated with the enterprise had
- been paid—some people said overpaid—the natural assumption was
- that Shakespeare on the stage was not so abhorrent to the people of
- England as was generally supposed.
- </p>
- <p>
- The people who took this view of the matter were people who had never
- heard the name of Mr. Archie Brown—people who regarded Mrs. Mowbray
- as a self-sacrificing lady who had so enthusiastic a desire to make the
- public acquainted with the beauties of Shakespeare, that she was quite
- content to spend her own fortune (wherever that came from) in producing
- “Cymbeline” and other masterpieces at the Legitimate.
- </p>
- <p>
- There were other people who said that Archie Brown was a young ass.
- </p>
- <p>
- There were others who said that Mrs. Mowbray was a harpy.
- </p>
- <p>
- There were others still—they were mostly men—who said that
- Mrs. Mowbray was the handsomest woman in England.
- </p>
- <p>
- The bitterest—they were mostly women—said that she was both
- handsome and a harpy.
- </p>
- <p>
- The truth regarding the difficult question of the Legitimate Theatre was
- gathered by Harold Wynne, as he swallowed his claret and ate his olives at
- the dining table at Archie Birown’s rooms in Piccadilly.
- </p>
- <p>
- He perceived from what Archie told him, that Archie had a genuine
- enthusiasm in the cause of Shakespeare. How he had acquired it, he might
- have had considerable difficulty in explaining. He also gathered that Mrs.
- Mowbray cared very little for Shakespeare except as a medium for
- impressing upon the public the fact—she believed it to be a fact—that
- Mrs. Mowbray was the most beautiful woman in England.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Cymbeline” had, she considered, been written in the prophetic instinct,
- which the author so frequently manifested, that one day a woman with such
- shapely limbs as Mrs. Mowbray undoubtedly possessed, might desire to
- exhibit them to the public of this grand old England of Shakespeare’s and
- ours.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Mowbray was probably the most expensive taste that any man in England
- could entertain.
- </p>
- <p>
- All this Harold gathered from the account of the theatrical enterprise, as
- communicated to him by Archie after dinner.
- </p>
- <p>
- And the best of it all was, Archie assured him, that no human being could
- say a word against the character of Mrs. Mowbray.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I never heard a word against the character of her frocks,” said Harold.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s a big thing, the management of the Legitimate,” said Archie,
- gravely.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No doubt; even when it’s managed, shall we say, legitimately?” said
- Harold.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I feel the responsibility, I can tell you,” said Archie. “Shakespeare has
- never been given a proper chance in England; and although she’s a year or
- two older than me, yet on the box seat of my coach she doesn’t look a day
- over twenty-two—just when a woman is at her best, Harry. What I want
- to know is, shall it be said of us that Shakespeare—the immortal
- Shakespeare, mind you—Stratford upon Avon, you know—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I believe I have his late address,” said Harold.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s all right. But what I want to know is, shall it be said that we
- are willing to throw our Shakespeare overboard? In the scene in the front
- of the cave she is particularly fine.”
- </p>
- <p>
- In an instant Harold’s thoughts were carried back to a certain scene in
- front of a cave on a moonlight night; and for him the roar of life through
- Piccadilly was changed to the roar of the Atlantic. His thoughts remained
- far away while Archie talked gravely of building himself a monument by his
- revival of “Cymbeline”, with which the Legitimate had been opened by Mrs.
- Mowbray. Of course, the thing hadn’t begun to pay yet, he explained.
- Everyone knew that the Bicycle had ruined theatrical business in London;
- but the Legitimate could fight even the Bicycle, and when the public had
- the beauty of Mrs. Mowbray properly impressed upon them, Shakespeare would
- certainly obtain that recognition which he deserves from England. Were
- Englishmen proud of Shakespeare, or were they not? that was what Archie
- wished very much to know. If the people of your so-called British Islands
- wish to throw Shakespeare overboard, just let them say so. But if they
- threw him over, the responsibility would rest with them; Mrs. Mowbray
- would still be the handsomest woman in England. At any rate, “Cymbeline”
- at the Legitimate would be a monument.
- </p>
- <p>
- “As a lighthouse is a monument,” said Harold, coming back from the Irish
- lough to Piccadilly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I knew you’d agree with me,” said Archie. “You know that I’ve always had
- a great respect for your opinion, Harry. I don’t object so much as some
- tarty chips to your dad. I wish he’d see Mrs. Mowbray. There’s no vet.
- whose opinion I’d sooner take on the subject than his. He’d find her all
- right.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold looked at the young man whose plain features—visible when he
- did not smile too broadly—displayed the enthusiasm that possessed
- him when he was fancying that his devotion to the beauty of Mrs. Mowbray
- was a true devotion to Shakespeare. Archie Brown, he was well aware, was
- very imperfectly educated.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was not, however, much worse than the general run of people. Like them
- he knew only enough of Shakespeare to be able to misquote him now and
- again; and, like them, he believed that. Darwinism meant nothing more than
- that men had once been monkeys.
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold looked at Archie, and felt that Mrs. Mowbray was a fortunate woman
- in having met with him. The monument was being raised, Harold felt; and he
- was right. The management of the Legitimate-Theatre was a memorial to
- Vanity working heart, and soul with Ignorance to the praise and glory of
- Shakespeare.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXXI.—ON A BLACK SHEEP.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span> EFORE Archie had
- completed his confidences, a visitor was announced.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, it’s only old Playdell,” said Archie. “You know old Playdell, of
- course.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’m not so certain that I do,” said Harold.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, he’s a good old soul who was kicked out of the Church by the bishop
- for doing something or other. He’s useful to me—keeps my
- correspondence in order—spots the chaps that write the begging
- letters, and sees that they don’t get anything out of me, while he takes
- care that all the genuine ones get all that they deserve. He’s an Oxford
- man.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Playdell—Playdell,” said Harold. “Surely he can’t be the fellow
- that got run out for marrying people without a licence?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s his speciality,” said Archie. “Come along, chippie Chaplain. Chip
- in, and have a glass of something.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A middle-aged man, wearing the coat and the tie of a cleric, entered the
- room with a smile and a bow to Harold.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’ve heard of Mr. Wynne, Play?” said Archie. “The Honourable Harold
- Wynne. He’s heard of you—yes, you bet your hoofs on that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I dare say you’ve heard of me, Mr. Wynne,” said the man. “It’s the black
- sheep in a flock that obtain notoriety; the colourless ones escape notice.
- I’m a black sheep.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’re about as black as they make them, old Play,” remarked Archie, with
- a prompt and kindly acquiescence. “But your blackness doesn’t go deeper
- than the wool.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You say that because you are always disposed to be charitable, Archie,”
- said Mr. Playdell. “Even with you I’m afraid that another notorious
- character is not so black as he’s painted.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Neither he is,” said Archie. “You know as well as I do that the devil is
- not so black as he used to be—he’s turning gray in his old age.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They treated me worse than they treated the Fiend himself, Mr. Wynne,”
- said Playdell. “They turned me out of the Church, but the Church still
- retains the Prince of Darkness. He is still the most powerful auxiliary
- that the Church knows.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you expressed that sentiment when in orders,” said Harold, “I can
- quite easily understand how you find yourself outside the Church.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was quite orthodox when in the Church, Mr. Wynne. I couldn’t afford to
- be otherwise,” said Playdell. “I wasn’t even an Honest Doubter. I felt
- that if I had begun to doubt I might become a Dissenter before I knew what
- I was about. It is only since I left the Church that I’ve indulged in the
- luxury of being unorthodox.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Take a glass of wine for your stomach’s sake,” said Archie.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That lad is the son of a Scotch Nonconformist,” said Mr. Playdell to
- Harold; “hence the text. Would it be unorthodox to say that an inscrutable
- Providence did not see fit to preserve the reply of Timothy to that
- advice? For my own part I cannot doubt for a moment that Timothy inquired
- for what other reason his correspondent fancied he might take the wine. I
- like my young patron’s La Rose. It must have been something very different
- from this that the person alluded to when he said ‘my love is better than
- wine.’ Yes, I’ve always thought that the truth of the statement was
- largely dependent on the wine.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll take my oath that isn’t orthodox,” said Archie. “You’d better mind
- what you’re about, chippie Chaplain, or I’ll treat you as the bishop did.
- This is an orthodox household, let me tell you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I feel like Balaam’s ass sometimes, Mr. Wynne, in this situation,” said
- Mr. Playdell. “In endeavouring to avoid the angel with the sword on one
- hand—that is the threatening orthodoxy of the Church—I make
- myself liable to a blow from the staff of the prophet—our young
- friend is the prophet.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will say this for you, chippie Chaplain,” said Archie, “you’ve kept me
- straight. Not that I ever did take kindly to the flowing bowl; but we all
- know what temptations there are.” He looked into his glass and spoke
- solemnly, shaking his head. “Yes, Harry, I’ve never drunk a thimbleful
- more than I should since old Play here lectured me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I could only persuade you—‘’commenced Mr. Playdell.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I’m not such an ass,” cried Archie, interrupting him. Then he turned
- to Harold, saying, “The chippie Chaplain wants to marry me to some one
- whose name we never mention. That has always been his weakness—marrying
- tarty chips that he had no right to marry.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I don’t mistake, Mr. Playdell, it was this little weakness that
- brought you to grief,” said Harold.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was the only point that the bishop could lay hold of, Mr. Wynne,” said
- Playdell. “I held, and I still hold, that the ceremony of marriage may be
- performed by any person who has been ordained—that the question of a
- licence is not one that should come forward upon any occasion. Those who
- hold other opinions are those who would degrade the ordinance into a mere
- civil act.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you married without question every couple who came to you, I
- believe?” said Harold.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I did, Mr. Wynne. And I will be happy to marry any other couples who come
- to me for that purpose now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But, you are no longer in the Church, and such marriages would be no
- marriages in the eyes of the law.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing can be more certain, Mr. Wynne. But I know that there are many
- persons in this country who hold, with me, that the ordinance is not one
- that should be made the subject of a licence bought from a bishop—who
- hold that the very act of purchase is a gross degradation of the ordinance
- of God.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I say, chippie Chaplain, haven’t we had enough of that?” said Archie.
- “You’ve pegged away at that marriage business with me for a good many
- months. Now, I say, pass the marriage business. Let us have a fresh deal.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. Wynne, I merely wished to explain my position to you,” said Playdell.
- “I’m on the side of the angels in this question, as a great statesman but
- a poor scientist said of another question.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pass the statesman as well,” cried Archie.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do tarty chips like us care for politics or other fads? He told me
- the other day, Harry, that instead of introducing a bill for the admission
- of ladies as members of Parliament, it would soon be necessary to
- introduce a bill for the admission of gentlemen as members—yes, you
- said that. You can’t deny it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t,” said Mr. Playdell. “The result of the last General Election—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pass the General Election,” shouted Archie. “Mr. Wynne hates that sort of
- thing. Now give an account of yourself. What have you done to earn your
- screw since morning?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “This is what I have come to, Mr. Wynne,” said Playdell. “Think of it; a
- clergyman and M.A. Oxon, forced to give an account of his stewardship to a
- young cub like that!” He laughed after a moment of seriousness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You don’t seem to feel deeply the degradation,” remarked Harold.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s nothing to the depths to which I have fallen,” said Mr. Playdell. “I
- was never more than a curate, but in spite of the drawback of being
- privileged to preach the Gospel twice a week, the curacy was a comfortable
- one. I published two volumes of my sermons, Mr. Wynne. They sold poorly in
- England, but I believe that in America they made the fortune of the
- publishers that pirated them. It is perfectly well known that my sermons
- achieved a great and good purpose in the States. They were practical. I
- will say that for them. The leader of the corner in hogs who ran the
- prices up last autumn, sold out of the business, I understand, after
- reading my sermon on the text, ‘The husks that the swine do eat.’ Several
- judges also resigned, admitting that they were converted. It was freely
- stated that even a Congressman had been reformed by one sermon of mine,
- while another was known to have brought tears to the eyes of a reporter on
- the <i>New York Herald</i>. And yet, with all these gratifying results, I
- never got a penny out of the American edition. Just think what would
- happen on this side of the Atlantic if, let us say, a Royal Academician
- were to find grace through a sermon, or—to assume an extreme case—a
- member of the Stock Exchange? Why, the writer would be a made man. I had
- thoughts of going to America, Mr. Wynne. At any rate, I’m going to deal
- with the publishers there directly. A firm in Boston is at present about
- to boom a Bowdlerized edition of the Bible which I have prepared for
- family reading in the States—not a word in it that the purest-minded
- young woman in all Boston might not see. It should sell, Mr. Wynne. I’m
- also translating into English a volume of American humour.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll give you a chance of going to America, before you sleep if you don’t
- dry up about your sermons and suchlike skittles,” said Archie. “The
- decanter’s beside you. Fill your glass. Mr. Wynne is coming to my show
- to-night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Playdell passed the decanter without filling his glass. “You know that
- I never take more than one glass of La Rose,” said he. “I have found out
- all about your house painter who fell off the ladder and broke all his
- ribs—he is the same as your Clergyman’s Orphan, and he lives in the
- same house as your Widow of a Naval Officer whose little all was invested
- in a fraudulent building society—he is also ‘First Thessalonians
- seven and ten. P.O.O. or stamps’.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Great Godfrey!” cried Archie; “and I had already written out a cheque for
- twenty pounds to send to that swindler! Do you mean to tell me, Play, that
- all those you’ve mentioned are impostors?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All? Why, there’s only one impostor among the lot,” said Mr. Playdell.
- “He is ‘First Thessalonians,’ and he has at least a dozen branch
- establishments.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s enough to make a tarty chip disgusted with God’s footstool,” said
- Archie. “Before old Play took me in hand I used to fling decimals about
- right and left, without inquiry.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He was the sole support of several of the most notorious swindlers in the
- country,” said Mr. Playdell. “I’ve managed to whittle them down
- considerably. Shakespeare is at present the only impostor that has defied
- my efforts,” he added, in a whisper to Harold.
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold laughed. He was beginning to feel some remorse at having previously
- looked on Archie Brown as a good-natured fool. He now felt that, in spite
- of Mrs. Mowbray, he would not wreck his life.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXXII.—ON SHAKESPEARE AND SUPPER.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">C</span>ARRIAGES by the
- score were waiting at the fine Corinthian entrance to the Legitimate, when
- Harold and Archie reached the theatre in their hansom. The <i>façade</i>
- of the Legitimate Theatre is so severely Corinthian that foreign visitors
- invariably ask what church it is.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was probably the classical columns supporting the pediment of the
- entrance that caused Archie to abate his frivolous conversation with his
- friend in the hansom—Archie had been expressing the opinion that it
- was exhilarating—only exhilarating was not the word he used—to
- swear at a man who had once been a clergyman and who still wore the dress
- of a cleric. “A chap feels that his turn has come,” he had said. “No
- matter how wrong they are you can’t swear at them and tell them to come
- down out of that, when they’re in their own pulpits—they’d have you
- up for brawling. That’s why I like to take it out of old Playdell. He
- tells me, however, that there’s no dean in the Church that gathers in the
- decimals as he does in my shop. But, bless you! he saves me his screw
- three times over.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But now that the classical front of the Legitimate came in view, Archie
- became solemn.
- </p>
- <p>
- He possibly appreciated the feelings of a conscientious clergyman when
- about to enter his Church.
- </p>
- <p>
- Shakespeare was a great responsibility.
- </p>
- <p>
- So was Mrs. Mowbray.
- </p>
- <p>
- The performance was not quite over; but before Archie had paid the
- hansomeer, the audience was streaming out from every door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Stand here and listen to what the people are saying.” whispered Archie.
- “I often do it. It is only in this way that you can learn how much
- appreciation for Shakespeare still remains in England.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He took up his position with Harold at the foot of the splendid staircase
- of the theatre, where the people chatted together while waiting for their
- carriages.
- </p>
- <p>
- With scarcely an exception, the remarks had a hearing upon the performance
- of “Cymbeline.” Only two ladies confined their criticisms to their
- respective medical advisers.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of the others, one man said that Mrs. Mowbray bore a striking resemblance
- to her photographs.
- </p>
- <p>
- A second said that she was the most beautiful woman in England.
- </p>
- <p>
- A third said that she knocked sparks out of Polly Floss in the same line
- of business. (Polly Floss was the leading exponent of burlesque).
- </p>
- <p>
- One woman said that Mrs. Mowbray was most picturesquely dressed.
- </p>
- <p>
- A second said that she was most picturesquely undressed.
- </p>
- <p>
- A third wondered if Liberty had got the exact tint of the robe that Mrs.
- Mowbray had worn in the second act.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And yet some people say that there’s no appreciation of Shakespeare in
- England!” said Archie, as he led Harold round the stalls, over which the
- attendants were spreading covers, and on to Mrs. Mowbray’s private rooms.
- </p>
- <p>
- “From the crowds that went out by every door, I judge that the theatre is
- making money, at any rate; and I suppose that’s the most practical test of
- appreciation,” said Harold.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, they don’t all pay,” said Archie. “That’s a feature of theatrical
- management that it takes an outsider some time to understand. Mrs. Mowbray
- should understand it pretty well by this time, so should her business
- manager. I’m just getting to understand it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You mean to say that the people are allowed to come in without paying?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It amounts to that in the long run—literally the long run—of
- the piece, I believe. Upon my soul, there are some people who fancy that a
- chap runs a show as a sort of free entertainment for the public. The
- dramatic critics seem to fancy that a chap produces a play, simply in
- order to give them an opportunity of showing off their own cleverness in
- slating it. It seems that a writer-chap can’t show his cleverness in
- praising a piece, but only in slanging it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think that I’d try and make people pay for their seats.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I used always to pay for mine in the old days—but then, I was
- always squandering my money.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have always paid for mine.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The manager says that if you asked people to pay, they’d be mortally
- offended and never enter the theatre again, and where would you be then?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where, indeed?” said Harold. “I expect your manager must know his
- business thoroughly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He does. It requires tact to get people to come to see Shakespeare,” said
- Archie. “But a chap can’t build a monument for himself without paying for
- it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It would be ridiculous to expect it,” said Harold.
- </p>
- <p>
- Pushing aside a magnificent piece of heavy drapery, Archie brought his
- friend into a passage illuminated by the electric light; and knocking at a
- door at the farther end, he was admitted by Mrs. Mowbray’s maid, into a
- prettily-furnished sitting-room and into the presence of Mrs. Mowbray, who
- was sitting robed in something very exquisite and cloud-like—not
- exactly a peignoir but something that suggested a peignoir.
- </p>
- <p>
- She was like a picture by Romney. If one could imagine all the charm of
- all the pictures of Emma Hamilton (<i>née</i> Lyon) which Romney painted,
- meeting harmoniously in another creature, one would come within reasonable
- distance of seeing Mrs. Mowbray, as Harold saw her when he entered the
- room.
- </p>
- <p>
- Even with the disadvantage of the exaggerated colour and the
- over-emphasized eye-lashes necessary for the searching illumination of the
- footlights, she was very lovely, Harold acknowledged.
- </p>
- <p>
- But all the loveliness of Mrs. Mowbray produced but a trifling effect
- compared to that produced by her charm of manner. She was the most natural
- woman ever known.
- </p>
- <p>
- The position of the natural man has been defined by an eminent authority.
- But who shall define the position of the natural woman?
- </p>
- <p>
- It was Mrs. Mowbray’s perfect simplicity, especially when talking to men—as
- a matter of fact she preferred talking to men rather than to women—that
- made her seem so lovely—nay, that made a man feel that it was good
- for him to be in her presence. She was devoid of the smallest trace of
- affectation. She seemed the embodiment of truth. She never smiled for the
- sake of conventionality. But when she did smile, just as Harold entered
- the room, her head turning round so that her face was looking over her
- shoulder, she had all the spiritual beauty of the loveliest picture ever
- painted by Greuze, consequently the loveliest picture ever painted by the
- hand of man.
- </p>
- <p>
- And yet she was so very human.
- </p>
- <p>
- An Algy and an Eddy were already in the room—the first was a
- Marquis, the second was the eldest son of a duke. Both were handsome lads,
- of quiet manners, and both were in the Household Cavalry. Mrs. Mowbray
- liked to be surrounded by the youngest of men.
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold had been acquainted with her long before she had become an actress.
- He had not had an opportunity of meeting her since; but he found that she
- remembered him very well.
- </p>
- <p>
- She had heard of his father, she said, looking at him in a way that did
- not in the least suggest a picture by Greuze.
- </p>
- <p>
- When people referred to his father they did not usually assume a look of
- innocence. Most of them would have had difficulty in assuming such a look
- under any circumstances.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My father is frequently heard of,” said Harold.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And your father’s son also,” said Mrs. Mowbray. “What a freak of Lady
- Innisfail’s! She lured you all across to Ireland. I heard so much. And
- what came of it, after all?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Acute admiration for the allurements of Lady Innisfail in my case, and a
- touch of acute rheumatism in my father’s case,” said Harold.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Neither will be fatal to the sufferers,” said Mrs. Mowbray—“or to
- Lady Innisfail, for that matter,” she added.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I should say not,” remarked Algy. “We all admire Lady Innisfail.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Few cases of acute admiration of Lady Innisfail have proved fatal, so far
- as I can hear, Lord Brackenthorpe,” said Mrs. Mowbray. “Young mem have
- suffered from it and have become exemplary husbands and parents.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And if they don’t live happy, that we may,” said Archie.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s the end of the whole matter,” said. Harold.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s the end of the orthodox fairy tale,” said Mrs. Mowbray. “Was your
- visit to Ireland a fairy story, Mr. Wynne?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold wondered how much this woman knew of the details of his visit to
- Ireland. Before he-could think of an answer in the same strain, Mrs.
- Mowbray had risen from the little gilt sofa, and had taken a step or two
- toward her dressing-room. The look she tossed to Harold, when she turned
- round with her fingers on the handle of the door, was a marvellous one.
- </p>
- <p>
- Had it been attempted by any other woman, it would have provoked derision
- on the part of the average man—certainly on the part of Harold
- Wynne. But, coming from Mrs. Mowbray, it conveyed—well, all that she
- meant it to convey. It was not merely fascinating, it was fascination
- itself.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was such a look as this, he felt—but nearly a year had passed
- before he had thought of the parallel—that Venus had cast at Paris
- upon a momentous occasion. It was the glance of Venus Victrix. It made a
- man think—a year or so afterwards—of Ahola and Aholibah, of
- Ashtoreth, of Cleopatra, of Faustina, of Iseult, of Rosamond.
- </p>
- <p>
- And yet the momentary expression of her features was as simple and as
- natural as that worn by one of Greuze’s girls.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She’ll not be more than ten minutes,” said
- </p>
- <p>
- Archie. “I don’t know how she manages to dress herself in the time.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He did not exaggerate. Mrs. Mowbray returned in ten minutes, with no trace
- of paint upon her face, wearing a robe that seemed to surround her with
- fleecy clouds. The garment was not much more than an atmosphere—it
- was a good deal less substantial than the atmosphere of London in December
- or that of Sheffield in June.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We shall have the pleasantest of suppers,” she said, “and the pleasantest
- of chats. I understand that Mr. Wynne has solved the Irish problem.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And what is the solution, Mrs. Mowbray?” said Lord Brackenthorpe.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The solution—ah—‘a gray eye or so’,” said Mrs. Mowbray.
- </p>
- <p>
- The little Mercutio swagger with which she gave point to the words, was
- better than anything she had done on the stage.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And now, Mr. Wynne, you must lead the way with me to our little
- supper-room,” said she, before the laugh, in which everyone joined, at the
- pretty bit of comedy, had ceased.
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold gave her his arm.
- </p>
- <p>
- When at the point of entering the room—it was daintily furnished
- with old English oak and old English silver—Mrs. Mowbray said, in
- the most casual way possible, “I hope you will tell me all that may be
- told about that charming White Lady of the Cave. How amusing it must have
- been to watch the chagrin of Lord Fotheringay, when Mr. Airey gave him to
- understand that he meant to make love to that young person with the
- wonderful eyes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was intensely amusing, indeed,” said Harold, who had become prepared
- for anything that Mrs. Mowbray might say.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, you must have been amused; for, of course, you knew that Mr. Airey
- was not in earnest—that he had simply been told off by Miss Craven
- to amuse himself with the young person, in order to induce her to take her
- beautiful eyes off—off—someone else, and to turn them
- admiringly upon Mr. Airey.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That was the most amusing part of the comedy, of course,” said Harold.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What fools some girls are!” laughed Mrs. Mowbray. It was well known that
- she disliked the society of women.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s a wise provision of nature that the fools should be the girls.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, I have known a fool or two among men,” said Mrs. Mowbray, with
- another laugh.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have known—did you say <i>have known?</i>” said Harold.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Any girl who has lived in this world of ours for a quarter of a century,
- should have seen enough to make her aware of the fact that the best way to
- set about increasing the passion of, let us say, the average man—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, the average man is passionless.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, the passion of whatever man you please—for a young woman whom
- he loves, or fancies he loves—it’s all the same in the end—is
- to induce him to believe that several other men are also in love with
- her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is one of the rudiments of a science of which you are the leading
- exponent,” said Harold.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And yet Miss Craven was foolish enough to fancy that the man of whom she
- was thinking, would give himself up to think of her so soon as he believed
- that Mr. Airey was in love with her rival! Ah, here are our lentils and
- pulse. How good it is of you to imperil your digestions by taking supper
- with me, when only a few hours can have passed since you dined.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Digestion is not an immortal soul,” said Harold, “and I believe that
- immortal souls have been imperilled before now, for the sake of taking
- supper with the most beautiful woman in the world.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you ever heard a woman say that I am beautiful?” she asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never,” said Harold. “That is the one sin which a woman never pardons in
- another.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You do not know women—” with a little pitying smile. “A woman will
- forgive a woman for being more beautiful than herself—for being less
- virtuous than herself, but never for being better-dressed than herself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “For how many of the three sins do you ask forgiveness of woman—two
- or three?” said Harold, gently.
- </p>
- <p>
- But instead of making an answer, Mrs. Mowbray said something about the
- necessity of cherishing a digestion. It was disgraceful, she said, that
- bread-and-butter and arithmetic should be forced upon a school boy—that
- such magnificent powers of digestion as he possessed should not be
- utilized ta the uttermost.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lord Brackenthorpe said he knew a clever artist chap, who had drawn a
- sketch of about a thousand people crowding over one another, in an
- American hotel, in order to see a boy, who had been overheard asking his
- mother what was the meaning of the word dyspepsia.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Mowbray wondered if the melancholy of Hamlet was due to a weak
- digestion.
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold said he thought it should rather be accepted as evidence that there
- was a Schleswig-Holstein question even in Hamlet’s day.
- </p>
- <p>
- Meantime, the pheasants and sparkling red Burgundy were affording
- compensation for the absence of any brilliant talk.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then the young men lit their cigarettes. Mrs. Mowbray had never been known
- to risk her reputation (for femininity) by letting a cigarette between her
- lips; but her femininity was in no way jeopardized—rather was it
- accentuated—by her liking to be in the neighbourhood of where
- cigarettes were being smoked—that is, when the cigarettes were good
- and when the smokers were pleasant young men with titles, or even
- unpleasant young men with thousands.
- </p>
- <p>
- After the lapse of an hour, a message came regarding Mrs. Mowbray’s
- brougham. Her guests rose and she looked about for her wrap.
- </p>
- <p>
- While Harold Wynne was laying it on her lovely shoulders, she kept her
- eyes fixed upon his. Hers were full of intelligence. When he had carefully
- fastened the gold clasp just beneath the hollow of her throat—it
- required very careful handling—she poised her head to the extent of
- perhaps a quarter of an inch to one side, and laughed; then she moved away
- from him, but turned her head so that her face was once more over her
- shoulder, like the face of the Greuze girl from whom she had learnt the
- trick.
- </p>
- <p>
- He knew that she wanted him to ask her from whom she had heard the stories
- regarding Castle Innisfail and its guests.
- </p>
- <p>
- He also knew that the reason she wanted him to ask her this question, was
- in order that she might have the delight of refusing to answer him, while
- keeping him in the expectancy of receiving an answer.
- </p>
- <p>
- Such a delight would, of course, be a malicious one. But he knew that it
- would be a thoroughly womanly one, and he knew that Mrs. Mowbray was a
- thorough woman.
- </p>
- <p>
- Therefore he laughed back at her and did not ask her anything—not
- even to take his arm out to her brougham.
- </p>
- <p>
- Archie Brown did, and she took his arm, still looking over her shoulder at
- Harold.
- </p>
- <p>
- It only needed that the lovely, wicked look should vanish in a sentence.
- </p>
- <p>
- And it did.
- </p>
- <p>
- The full lips parted, and the poise of the head was increased by perhaps
- the eighth part of an inch.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘A gray eye or so,’” she murmured.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her laughter rang down the corridor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And the best of it all is, that no one can say a word against her
- character,” said Archie.
- </p>
- <p>
- This was the conclusion of his rhapsody in the hansom, in which he and
- Harold were driving down Piccadilly—a rhapsody upon the beauty, the
- genius, and the expensiveness of Mrs. Mowbray.
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold was silent. The truth was that he was thinking about something far
- apart from Mrs. Mowbray, her beauty, her doubtful genius, and her
- undoubted power of spending money.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do you say?” said Archie. “Great Godfrey! you don’t mean to say that
- you’ve heard a word breathed against her character?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “On the contrary,” said Harold, “I’ve always heard it asserted that Mrs.
- Mowbray is the best dressed woman in London.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Give me your hand, old chap; I knew that I could trust you to do her
- justice,” cried Archie.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXXIII.—ON BLESSING OR DOOM.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">E</span>VEN before he
- slept, Harold Wynne found that he had a good many matters to think about,
- in addition to the exquisitely natural poises of Mrs. Mowbray’s shapely
- head.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was apparent to him that Mrs. Mowbray had somehow obtained a
- circumstantial account of the appearance of Beatrice Avon at the Irish
- Castle, and of the effect that had been produced, in more than one
- direction, by her appearance.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the most important information that he had derived from Mrs. Mowbray
- was that which had reference to the attitude of Edmund Airey toward
- Beatrice.
- </p>
- <p>
- Undoubtedly, Mrs. Mowbray had, by some means, come to be possessed of the
- truth regarding the apparent fascination which Beatrice had for Edmund
- Airey. It was a trick—it was the result of a conspiracy between
- Helen Craven and Edmund, in order that he, Harold, should be prevented
- from even telling Beatrice that he loved her. Helen had felt certain that
- Beatrice, when she fancied—poor girl!—that she had produced so
- extraordinary an impression upon the wealthy and distinguished man, would
- be likely to treat the poor and undistinguished man, whose name was Harold
- Wynne, in such a way as would prevent him from ever telling her that he
- loved her!
- </p>
- <p>
- And Edmund had not hesitated to play the part which Helen had assigned to
- him! For more than a moment did Harold feel that his friend had behaved in
- a grossly dishonourable way. But he knew that his friend, if taxed with
- behaving dishonourably, would be ready to prove—if he thought it
- necessary—that, so far from acting dishonourably, he had shown
- himself to be Harold’s best friend, by doing his best to prevent Harold
- from asking a penniless girl to be his wife. Oh, yes, Mr. Edmund Airey
- would have no trouble in showing, to the satisfaction of a considerable
- number of people—perhaps, even to his own satisfaction—that he
- was acting the part of a truly conscientious; and, perhaps, a
- self-sacrificing friend, by adopting Helen Craven’s suggestion.
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold felt very bitter toward his friend Edmund Airey; though it was
- unreasonable for him to do so; for had not he come to precisely the same
- conclusion as his friend in respect of Beatrice, this conclusion being, of
- course, that nothing but unhappiness could be the result of his loving
- Beatrice, and of his asking Beatrice to love him?
- </p>
- <p>
- If Edmund Airey had succeeded in preventing him from carrying out his
- designs, Harold would be saved from the necessity of having with Beatrice
- that melancholy interview to which he was looking forward; therefore it
- was unreasonable for him to entertain any feeling of bitterness toward
- Edmund.
- </p>
- <p>
- But for all that, he felt very bitterly toward Edmund—a fact which
- shows that, in some men as well as in all women, logic is subordinate to
- feeling.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was also far from logical on his part to begin to think, only after he
- had accused his friend of dishonourable conduct, of the source whence the
- evidence upon which he had founded his accusation, was derived.
- </p>
- <p>
- How had Mrs. Mowbray come to hear how Edmund Airey had plotted with Helen
- Craven, he asked himself. He began to wonder how she could have heard
- about the gray eyes of Beatrice, to which she had alluded more than once,
- with such excellent effect from the standpoint of art. From whom could she
- have heard so much?
- </p>
- <p>
- She certainly did not hear it from Mr. Durdan, even if she was acquainted
- with him, which was doubtful; for Mr. Durdan was discreet. Besides, Mr.
- Durdan was rarely eloquent on any social subject. He was the sort of man
- who makes a tour on the Continent and returns to tell you of nothing
- except a flea at Bellaggio.
- </p>
- <p>
- Was it possible that some of the fishing men had been taking notes unknown
- to any of their fellow guests, for the benefit of Mrs. Mowbray?
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold did not think so.
- </p>
- <p>
- After some time he ceased to trouble himself with these vain speculations.
- The fact—he believed it to be a fact—remained the same:
- someone who had been at Castle Innisfail had given Mrs. Mowbray a highly
- circumstantial account of certain occurrences in the neighbourhood of the
- Castle; and if Mrs. Mowbray had received such an account, why might not
- anyone else be equally favoured?
- </p>
- <p>
- Thus it was that he strayed into new regions of speculation, where he
- could not possibly find any profit. What did it matter to him if everyone
- in London knew that Edmund Airey had plotted with Helen Craven, to prevent
- an impecunious man from marrying a penniless girl? All that remained for
- him to do was to go to the girl, and tell her that he had made a mistake—that
- he would be asking her to make too great a sacrifice, were he to hold her
- to her promise to love him and him only.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was somewhat curious that his resolution in this matter should be
- strengthened by the fact of his having learned that Edmund Airey had not
- been in earnest, in what was generally regarded at Castle Innisfail as an
- attitude of serious, and not merely autumn, love-making, in respect of
- Beatrice.
- </p>
- <p>
- He did not feel at all annoyed to learn that, if he were to withdraw from
- the side of Beatrice, his place would not be taken by that wealthy and
- distinguished man, Edmund Airey. When he had at first made up his mind to
- go to Beatrice and ask her to forget that he had ever told her that he
- loved her, he had had an uneasy feeling that his friend might show even a
- greater interest than he had done on the evening of the <i>tableaux</i> at
- the Castle, in the future movements of Beatrice.
- </p>
- <p>
- At that time his resolution had not been overwhelming in its force. But
- now that Mrs. Mowbray had made that strange communication—it almost
- amounted to a revelation—to him, he felt almost impatient at the
- delay that he knew there must be before he could see the girl and make his
- confession to her.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had two more days to think over his resolution, in addition to his
- sleepless night after receiving Mrs. Mowbray’s confidences; and the result
- of keeping his thoughts in the one direction was, that at last he had
- almost convinced himself that he was glad that the opportunity had arrived
- for him to present himself to the girl, in order to tell her that he would
- no longer stand in the way of her loving someone else.
- </p>
- <p>
- When he found himself in her presence, however, his convictions on this
- particular point were scarcely so strong as they might have been.
- </p>
- <p>
- She was sitting in front of the fire in the great drawing-room that
- retained all the original decorations of the Brothers Adam, and she was
- wearing something beautifully simple—something creamy, with old
- lace. The furniture of the room also belonged to the period of the Adams,
- and on the walls were a number of coloured engravings by Bartolozzi after
- Cipriani and Angelica Kauffmann.
- </p>
- <p>
- She was in his arms in a moment. She gave herself to him as naturally and
- as artlessly as though she were a child; and he held her close to him,
- looking down upon her face without uttering a word—kissing her mouth
- conscientiously, her shell-pink cheeks earnestly, her forehead
- scrupulously, and her chin playfully.
- </p>
- <p>
- This was how he opened the interview which he had arranged to part them
- for ever.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then they both drew a long breath simultaneously, and both laughed in
- unison.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then he held her away from him for a few seconds, looking upon her
- exquisite face. Again he kissed her—but this time solemnly and with
- something of the father about the action.
- </p>
- <p>
- “At last—at last,” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “At last,” she murmured in reply.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It seems to me that I have never seen you before,” said he. “You seem to
- be a different person altogether. I do not remember anything of your face,
- except your eyes—no, by heavens! your eyes are different also.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was dark as midnight in the depths of that seal-cave,” she whispered.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You mean that—ah, yes, my beloved! If I could have seen your eyes
- at that moment I know I should have found them full of the light that I
- now see in their depths. You remember what I said to you on the morning
- after your arrival at the Castle? Your eyes meant everything to me then—I
- knew it—beatitude or doom.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you know now what they meant?”
- </p>
- <p>
- He looked at her earnestly and passionately for some moments. Then his
- hands dropped suddenly as though they were the hands of a man who had died
- in a moment—his hands dropped, he turned away his face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “God knows, God knows,” he said, with what seemed like a moan.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” she said; “God knows, and you know as well as God that in my heart
- there is nothing that does not mean love for you. Does love mean blessing
- or doom?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “God knows,” said he again. “Your love should mean to me the most blessed
- thing on earth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And your love makes me most blessed among women,” said she.
- </p>
- <p>
- This exchange of thought could scarcely be said to make easier the task
- which he had set himself to do before nightfall.
- </p>
- <p>
- He seemed to become aware of this, for he went to the high mantelpiece,
- and stood with his hands upon it, earnestly examining the carved marble
- frieze, cream-tinted with age, which was on a level with his face.
- </p>
- <p>
- She knew, however, that he was not examining the carving from the
- standpoint of a critic; and she waited silently for whatever was coming.
- </p>
- <p>
- It came when he ceased his scrutiny of the classical figures in high
- relief, that appeared upon the marble slab.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Beatrice, my beloved,” said he, and her face brightened. Nothing that
- commenced with the assumption that she was his beloved could be very bad.
- “I have been in great trouble—I am in great trouble still.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She was by his side in a moment, and had taken one of his hands in hers.
- She held it, looking up to his face with her eyes full of sympathy and
- concern.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dearest,” he said, “you are all that is good and gracious. We must
- part, and for ever.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She laughed, still looking at his face. There really was something
- laughable in the sequence of his words. But her laugh did not make his
- task any easier.
- </p>
- <p>
- “When I told you that I loved you, Beatrice, I told you the truth,” said
- he. “If I were to tell you anything else now it would be a falsehood. But
- I had no right ever to speak to you of love. I am absolutely penniless.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is no confession,” said she. “I knew all along that you were
- dependent upon your father for everything. I felt for you—so did Mr.
- Airey.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. Airey?” said he. “Mr. Airey mentioned to you that I was a beggar?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, he didn’t say that. He only said—what did he say?—something
- about the affairs of the world being very badly arranged, otherwise you
- should have thousands—oh, he said he felt for you with all his
- heart.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘With all his appreciation of the value of an opportunity,’ he should
- have said. Never mind Edmund Airey. You, yourself, can see, Beatrice, how
- impossible it would be for any man with the least sense of honour,
- situated as I am, to ask you to wait—to wait for something
- indefinite.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You did not ask me to wait for anything. You did not ask me to wait for
- your love—you gave it to me at once. There is nothing indefinite in
- love.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My Beatrice, you cannot think that I would ask you for your love without
- hoping to marry you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then let us be married to-morrow.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She did not laugh, speaking the words. He could see that she would not
- hesitate to marry him at any moment.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Would to heaven that we could be, my dearest! But could there be anything
- more cruel than for a penniless man, such as I am, to ask a girl, such as
- you are, to marry him?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I cannot see where the cruelty would be. People have been very happy
- together before now, though they have had very little money between them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My dear Beatrice, you were not meant to pass your life in squalid
- lodgings, with none of the refinements of life around you; and I—well,
- I have known what roughing it means; I would face the worst alone; but I
- am not selfish enough to seek to drag you down to my level—to ask
- you to face hardship for my sake.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do not say anything, darling: anything that you may say will only make it
- the harder to part. I can do it, Beatrice; I am strong enough to say
- good-bye.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then say it, Harold.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She stood facing him, with her wonderful eyes looking steadily into his.
- The message that they conveyed to him was such as he could not fail to
- read aright. He knew that if he had said goodbye, he would never have a
- chance of looking into those eyes again.
- </p>
- <p>
- And yet he made the attempt to speak—to say the word that she had
- challenged him to utter. His lips were parted for more than a moment. He
- suddenly dropped her hand—he had been holding it all the time—and
- turned away from her with a passionate gesture.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I cannot say it—God help me! I cannot say good-bye,” he cried.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had flung himself into a sofa and had buried his face in his hands.
- </p>
- <p>
- For a short time he had actually felt that he was desirous to part from
- her. For some minutes he had been quite sincere. The force of the words he
- had made use of to show Beatrice how absolutely necessary it was that they
- should part, had not been felt by her; those words had, however, affected
- him. He had felt—for the first time, in spite of his previous
- self-communing—that he must say good-bye to her, but he found that
- he was too weak to say it.
- </p>
- <p>
- He felt a hand upon his shoulder. He could feel her gracious presence near
- to him, before her voice came.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Harold,” she said, “if you had said it, I should never have had an hour’s
- happiness in my life. I would never have seen you again. I felt that all
- the happiness of my life was dependent upon your refraining from speaking
- those words. Cannot you see, my love, that the matter has passed out of
- our hands—that it is out of our power to part now? Harold, cannot
- you see that, let it be for good or evil—for heaven or doom—we
- must be together? Whatever is before us, we are not two but one—our
- lives are joined beyond the power of separation. I am yours; you are
- mine.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He sprang to his feet. He saw that tears were in her eyes. “Let it be so,”
- he cried. “In God’s name let it be so. Whatever may happen, no suggestion
- of parting shall come from me. We stand together, and for ever, Beatrice.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “For ever and ever,” she said.
- </p>
- <p>
- That was how their interview came to a close.
- </p>
- <p>
- Did he know when he had set out for her home that this would be the close
- of their interview—this clasping of the hands—this meeting of
- the lips?
- </p>
- <p>
- Perhaps he did not. But one thing is certain: if it had not had this
- ending, he would have been greatly mortified.
- </p>
- <p>
- His vanity would have received a great blow.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXXIV.—ON THE MESSAGE OF THE LILY.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>ALKING Westward to
- his rooms, he enjoyed once again the same feeling of exultation, which had
- been his on the evening of the return from the seal-hunt. He felt that she
- was wholly his.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had done all that was in his power to show her how very much better it
- would be for her to part from him and never to see him again—how
- much better it would be for her to marry the wealthy and distinguished man
- who had, out of the goodness of his heart, expressed to her a deep
- sympathy for his, Harold’s, unfortunate condition of dependence upon a
- wicked father. But he had not been able to convince her that it would be
- to her advantage to adopt this course.
- </p>
- <p>
- Yet, instead of feeling deeply humiliated by reason of the failure of his
- arguments, he felt exultant.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She is mine—she is mine!” he cried, when he found himself alone in
- his room in St. James’s. “There is none like her, and she is mine!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He reflected for a long time upon her beauty. He thought of Mrs. Mowbray,
- and he smiled, knowing that Beatrice was far lovelier, though her
- loveliness was not of the same impressive type. One did not seem to
- breathe near Beatrice that atmosphere heavy with the scent of roses, which
- Mrs. Mowbray carried with her for the intoxication of the nations. Still,
- the beauty of Beatrice was not a tame thing. It had stirred him, and it
- had stirred other men.
- </p>
- <p>
- Yes, it had stirred Edmund Airey—he felt certain of it, although he
- did not doubt the truth of Mrs. Mowbray’s communication on this subject.
- </p>
- <p>
- Even though Edmund Airey had been in a plot with Helen, still Harold felt
- that he had been stirred by the beauty of Beatrice.
- </p>
- <p>
- He thought over this point for some time, and the conclusion that he came
- to was, that he could easily find out if Edmund meant to play no more
- important a <i>rôle</i> than that of partner in Helen Craven’s plot. It
- was perfectly clear, that if Edmund had merely acted as he had done at the
- suggestion of Helen, he would cease to take any further interest in
- Beatrice, unless it was his intention to devote his life to carrying out
- the plot.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the course of some weeks, he would learn all that could be known on
- this point; but meantime his condition was a peculiar one.
- </p>
- <p>
- He would have felt mortified had he been certain that Edmund Airey had not
- really been stirred by the charm of Beatrice; but he would have been
- somewhat uneasy had he felt certain that Edmund was deeply in love with
- her. He trusted her implicitly—he felt certain of himself in this
- respect. Had he not a right to trust her, after the way in which she had
- spoken to him—the way in which she had given herself up to him? But
- then he felt that he had made use of such definite arguments to her, in
- pointing out the advisability of their parting, as caused it to be quite
- possible that she might begin to perceive—after a year or two of
- waiting—that there was some value in those arguments of his, after
- all.
- </p>
- <p>
- By the time that he had dined with some people, who had sent him a card on
- his return to London, and had subjected himself to the mortifying
- influence of some unfamiliar <i>entrées</i>, and a conversation with a
- woman who was the survivor of the wreck of spiritualism in London, he was
- no longer in the exultant mood of the afternoon.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A Fool’s Paradise—a Fool’s Paradise!” he murmured, as he sat in an
- easy-chair, and gazed into his flickering fire.
- </p>
- <p>
- It had been very glorious to think that he was beloved by that exquisite
- girl—to think of the kisses of her mouth; but whither was the love
- leading him?
- </p>
- <p>
- His father’s words could not be forgotten—those words which he had
- spoken from beneath the eiderdown of his bed at Castle Innisfail; and
- Harold knew that, should he marry Beatrice, his father would certainly
- carry out his threat of cutting off his allowance.
- </p>
- <p>
- Thus it was that he sat in his chair feeling that, even though Beatrice
- had refused to be separated from him, still they were as completely parted
- by circumstances as if she had immediately acknowledged the force of his
- arguments, and had accepted, his invitation to say good-bye for ever.
- </p>
- <p>
- Thus it was that he cried, “A Fool’s Paradise—a Fool’s Paradise!” as
- he thought over the whole matter.
- </p>
- <p>
- What were the exact elements of the Paradise in which his exclamation
- suggested that he was living, he might have had some difficulty in
- defining.
- </p>
- <p>
- But then the site of the original Paradise is still a matter of
- speculation.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next day he went to take lunch with her and her father—he had
- promised to do so before he had left her, when they had had their
- interview.
- </p>
- <p>
- It so happened, however, that he only partook of lunch with Beatrice; for
- Mr. Avon had, he learned, been compelled to go to Dublin for some days, to
- satisfy himself regarding a document which was in a library in that city.
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold did not grumble at the prospect of a long afternoon by her side;
- only he could not help feeling that the <i>ménage</i> of the Avon family
- was one of the most remarkable that he had ever known. The historical
- investigations of Mr. Avon did not seem to induce him to take a
- conventional view of his obligations, as the father of an extremely
- handsome girl—assuming that he was aware of the fact of her beauty—or
- a pessimistic view of modern society. He seemed to allow Beatrice to be in
- every way her own mistress—to receive whatever visitors she pleased;
- and to lay no narrow-minded prohibition upon such an incident as lunching
- <i>tête-à-tête</i> with a young man, or perhaps—but Harold had no
- knowledge of such a case—an old man.
- </p>
- <p>
- He wondered if the historian had ever been remonstrated with on this
- subject, by such persons as had not had the advantage of scrutinizing
- humanity through the medium of state papers.
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold thought that, on the whole, he had no reason to take exception to
- the liberality of Mr. Avon’s system. He reflected that it was to this
- system he was indebted for what promised to be an extremely agreeable
- afternoon.
- </p>
- <p>
- What he did not reflect upon, however, was, that he was indebted to Mr.
- Avon’s peculiarities—some people would undoubtedly call the system a
- peculiar one—for a charmingly irresponsible relationship toward the
- historian’s daughter. He did not reflect upon the fact, that if the girl
- had had the Average Father, or the Vigilant Mother, to say nothing of the
- Athletic Brother, he would not have been able, without some explanation,
- to visit her, and, on the strength of promising to love her, to kiss her,
- as he had now repeatedly done, on the mouth—or even on the forehead,
- which is somewhat less satisfying. Everyone knows that the Vigilant Mother
- would, by the application of a maternal thumb-screw which she always
- carries attached to her bunch of keys, have extorted from Beatrice a full
- confession as to the incidents of the seal-hunt—all except the
- hunting of the seals—and that this confession would have led to a
- visit to the study of the Average Father, in one corner of which reposes
- the rack, in working order, for the reception of the suitor. Everyone
- knows so much, and also that the alternative of the paternal rack, is the
- fist of the Athletic Brother.
- </p>
- <p>
- But Mr. Harold Wynne did not seem to reflect upon these points, when he
- heard the lightly uttered excuses of Beatrice for her father’s absence, as
- they seated themselves at the table in the large dining-room.
- </p>
- <p>
- His practised eye made him aware of the fact that Beatrice understood what
- he considered to be the essentials of a <i>recherché</i> lunch: a lunch
- appeals to the eye; but wine appeals to other senses than the sense of
- seeing; and the result of his judgment was to convince him that, if Mr.
- Avon was as careless in the affairs of the cellar as he was in the affairs
- of the drawing-room, he was to be congratulated upon having about him
- someone who understood still hock at any rate.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the drawing-room, she busied herself in arranging, in Wedgwood bowls,
- some flowers that he had brought her—trifles of sprawling orchids,
- Eucharis lilies, and a fairy tropical fern or two, all of which are quite
- easy to be procured in London in October for the expenditure of a few
- sovereigns. The picture that she made bending over her bowls was
- inexpressibly lovely. He sat silent, watching her, while she prattled away
- with the artless high spirits of a child. She was surely the loveliest
- thing yet made by God. He thought of what the pious old writer had said
- about a particular fruit, and he paraphrased it in his own mind, saying,
- that doubtless God could make a lovelier thing, but certainly He had never
- made it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am delighted to have such sweet flowers now,” she cried, as she
- observed, with critical eyes, the effect of a bit of flaming crimson—an
- orchid suggesting a flamingo in flight—over the turquoise edge of
- the bowl. “I am delighted, because I have a prospect of other visitors
- beside yourself, my lord.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Other visitors?” said he. He wondered if he might venture to suggest to
- her the inadvisability of entertaining other visitors during her father’s
- absence.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Other visitors indeed,” she replied. “I did not tell you yesterday all
- that I had to tell. I forget now what we talked about yesterday. How did
- we put in our time?”
- </p>
- <p>
- She looked up with laughing eyes across the bowl of flowers, that she held
- up to her face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t forget—I shall never forget,” said he, in a low voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You must never forget,” said she. “But to my visitors—who are they,
- do you fancy? Don’t try to guess, for if you should succeed I should be
- too mortified to be able to tell you that you were right. I will tell you
- now. Three days ago—while we were still on the Continent—Miss
- Craven called. She promised faithfully to do so at Castle Innisfail—indeed,
- she suggested doing so herself; and I found her card waiting for me on my
- return with a few words scrawled on it, to tell me that she would return
- in some days. I don’t think that anything should be in the same bowl with
- a Eucharis lily—even the Venus-hair fern looks out of place beside
- it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She had strayed from her firebrand orchids to the white lilies.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are quite right, indeed,” said he. “A lily and you stand alone—you
- make everything else in the world seem tawdry.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is not the message of the lily,” said she. “But supposing that Miss
- Craven should call upon me to-day—would you be glad of such a third
- person to our party?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I should kill her, if she were a thousand times Helen Craven,” said he,
- with a laugh. “But she is only one visitor; who are the others?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, there is only one other, and he is interesting to me only,” she
- cried. “Yes, I found Mr. Airey’s card also waiting for me, and on it were
- scrawled almost the very words that were on Miss Craven’s card, so that he
- may be here at any moment.” Harold did not say a word. He sat watching her
- as her hands mingled with their sister-lilies on the table. Something cold
- seemed to have clasped his heart—a cold doubt that made him dumb.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” she continued; “Mr. Airey asked me one night at Castle Innisfail to
- let him know where we should go after leaving Ireland.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said he, in a slow way; “I heard him make that request of you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You heard him? But you were taking part in the <i>tableaux</i> in the
- hall.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I had left the platform and had strayed round to one of the doors. You
- told him where you were going?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I told him that we should be in this house in October, and he said that
- he would make it a point to be in town early in October, though Parliament
- was not to sit until the middle of January. He has kept his word.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, he has kept his word.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold felt that cold hand tightening upon his heart. “I think that he was
- interested in me,” continued the girl. “I know that I was interested in
- him. He knows so much about everything. He is a close friend of yours, is
- he not?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” said Harold, without much enthusiasm. “Yes, he was a close friend
- of mine. You see, I had my heart set upon going into Parliament—upon
- so humble an object may one’s aspirations be centred—and Edmund
- Airey was my adviser.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And what did he advise you to do?” she asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He advised me to—well, to go into Parliament.” He could not bring
- himself to tell her what form exactly Edmund Airey’s advice had assumed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am sure that his advice was good,” said she. “I think that I would go
- to him if I stood in need of advice.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Would you, indeed, Beatrice?” said he. He was at the point of telling her
- all that he had learned from Mrs. Mowbray; he only restrained himself by
- an effort.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I believe that he is both clever and wise.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The two do not always go together, certainly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They do not. But Mr. Airey is, I think, both.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He has been better than either. To be successful is better than to be
- either wise or clever. Mr. Airey has been successful. He will get an
- Under-Secretaryship if the Government survives the want of confidence of
- the Opposition.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you will go into Parliament, Harold?”
- </p>
- <p>
- He shook his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That aspiration is past,” said he; “I have chosen the more excellent
- career. Now, tell me something of your aspirations, my beloved.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To see you daily—to be near you—to—”
- </p>
- <p>
- But the enumeration of the terms of her aspirations is unnecessary.
- </p>
- <p>
- How was it that some hours after this, Harold Wynne left the house with
- that cold feeling still at his heart?
- </p>
- <p>
- Was it a pang of doubt in regard to Beatrice, or a pang of jealousy in
- regard to Edmund Airey?
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXXV.—ON THE HOME.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>AROLD WYNNE
- remembered how he had made up his mind to judge whether or not Edmund
- Airey had been simply playing, in respect of Beatrice, the part which,
- according to Mrs. Mowbray’s story, had been assigned to him by Helen
- Craven. He had made up his mind that unless Edmund Airey meant to go much
- further than—according to Mrs. Mowbray’s communication—Helen
- Craven could reasonably ask him to go, he would not take the trouble to
- see Beatrice again.
- </p>
- <p>
- Helen could scarcely expect him to give up his life to the furtherance of
- her interests with another man.
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, he had found that Edmund, so far from showing any intention of
- abandoning the position—it has already been defined—which he
- had assumed toward Beatrice, had shown, in the plainest possible way, that
- he did not mean to lose sight of her.
- </p>
- <p>
- And for such a man as he was, to mean so much, meant a great deal, Harold
- was forced to acknowledge.
- </p>
- <p>
- He spent the remainder of the day which had begun so auspiciously,
- wondering if his friend, Edmund Airey, meant to tell Beatrice some day
- that he loved her, and, what was very much more important, that he was
- anxious to marry her.
- </p>
- <p>
- And then that unworthy doubt of which he had become conscious, returned to
- him.
- </p>
- <p>
- If Edmund Airey, who, at first, had merely been attracted to Beatrice with
- a view of furthering what Helen Craven believed to be her interests, had
- come to regard her differently—as he, Harold, assumed that he had—might
- it not be possible, he asked himself, that Beatrice, who had just admitted
- that she had always had some sort of admiration for Edmund Airey, would———-
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never, never, never!” he cried. “She is all that is good and true and
- faithful. She is mine—altogether mine!”
- </p>
- <p>
- But his mind was in such a condition that the thought which he had tried
- to crush down, remained with him to torture him.
- </p>
- <p>
- It should not have been a torturing thought, considering that, a few days
- before, he had made up his mind that it was his duty to relinquish
- Beatrice—to go to her and bid her good-bye for ever. To be sure, he
- had failed to realize this honourable intention of his; but what was
- honourable at one time was honourable at another, so that the thought of
- something occurring to bring about the separation for which he had
- professed to be so anxious, should not have been a great trouble to him—it
- should have been just the contrary.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next day found him in the same condition. The thought occurred to him,
- “What if, at this very moment, Edmund Airey is with her, endeavouring to
- increase that admiration which he must know Beatrice entertains for him?”
- The thought was not a consoling one. Its effect was to make him think very
- severely of the laxity of Mr. Avon’s <i>ménage</i>, which would make
- possible such an interview as he had just imagined. It was a terrible
- thing, he thought, for a father to show so utter a disregard for his
- responsibilities as to——-
- </p>
- <p>
- But here he reflected upon something that had occurred to him in
- connection with <i>tête-à-tête</i> interviews, and he thought it better
- not to pursue his course of indignant denunciation of the eminent
- historian.
- </p>
- <p>
- He put on an overcoat and went to pay a visit to his sister, who, he had
- heard the previous day, was in town for a short time. In another week she
- would be entertaining a large party for the pheasant-shooting at her
- country-house in Brackenshire, and Harold was to be her guest as well as
- Edmund Airey and Helen Craven. It was to this visit that Lord Fotheringay
- had alluded in the course of his chamber interview with his son at Castle
- Innisfail.
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold had now made up his mind that he would not be able to join his
- sister’s party, and he thought it better to tell her so than to write to
- her to this effect.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Lampson was not at home, the servant said, when he had knocked at the
- door of the house in Eaton Square. A party was expected for lunch,
- however, so that she would probably return within half an hour.
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold said he would wait for his sister, and went upstairs.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was one person already in the drawingroom and that person was Lord
- Fotheringay.
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold greeted him, and found that he was in an extremely good humour. He
- had never been in better health, he declared. He felt, he said, as young
- as the best of them—he prudently refrained from defining them—and
- he was still of the opinion that the Home—the dear old English Home—was
- where true and lasting happiness alone was to be found; and he meant to
- try the Principality of Monaco later on; for November was too awful in any
- part of Britain. Yes, he had seen the influence of the Home upon exiles in
- various parts of the world. Had he not seen strong men weep like children—like
- innocent children—at the sight of an English post-mark—the
- post-mark of a simple English village? Why had they wept, he asked his
- son, with the well-gloved forefinger of the professional moralist
- outstretched?
- </p>
- <p>
- His son declined to hazard an answer.
- </p>
- <p>
- They had wept those tears—those bitter tears—Lord Fotheringay
- said, with solemn emphasis, because their thoughts went back to that
- village home of theirs—the father, the mother, perhaps a sister—who
- could tell?
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah, my boy,” he continued, “‘’Mid pleasures and palaces’—‘’mid
- pleasures and’—by the way, I looked in at the Rivoli Palace last
- night. I heard that there was a woman at that place who did a new dance. I
- saw it. A new dance! My dear boy, it wasn’t new when I saw it first, and
- that’s—ah, never mind—it’s some years ago. I was greatly
- disappointed with it. There’s nothing indecent in it—I will say that
- for it—but there’s nothing enlivening. Ah, the old home of burlesque—the
- old home—that’s what I was talking about—the Home—the
- sentiment of the Home—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of burlesque?” suggested Harold.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of the devil, sir,” said his father. “Don’t try to be clever; it’s nearly
- as bad as being insolent. What about that girl—Helen Craven, I mean?
- Have you seen her since you came to town? She’s here. She’ll be at Ella’s
- next week. Perhaps it will be your last chance. Heavens above! To think
- that a pauper like you should need to be urged to marry such a girl! A
- girl with two hundred thousand pounds in cash—a girl belonging to
- one of the best families in all—in all Birmingham. Harold, don’t be
- a fool! Such a chance doesn’t come every day.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Just then Mrs Lampson entered the room and with her, her latest discovery,
- the Coming Dramatist.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs Lampson was invariably making discoveries. But they were mostly
- discoveries of quartz; they contained a certain proportion of gold, to be
- sure; but when it came to the crushing, they did not yield enough of the
- precious metal to pay the incidental expenses of the plant for the
- working.
- </p>
- <p>
- She had discovered poets and poetesses—the latter by the score. She
- had discovered at least one Genius in black and white—his genius
- being testified by his refusal to work; and she had discovered a
- pianoforte Genius—his genius being proved by the dishevelment of his
- hair. The man who had the reputation for being the Greatest Living Atheist
- was a welcome guest at her house, and the most ridiculous of living
- socialists boasted of having dined at her table.
- </p>
- <p>
- She was foremost in every philanthropic movement, and wrote articles to
- the magazines, lamenting the low tone of modern society in London.
- </p>
- <p>
- She also sneered (in private) at Lady Innisfail. Her latest discovery, the
- Coming Dramatist, had had, he proudly declared, his plays returned to him
- by the best managers in London, and by the one conscientious manager in
- the United States—the last mentioned had not prepaid the postage, he
- lamented.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was a fearful joy to cherish; but Mrs. Lampson listened to his egotism
- at lunch, and tried to prevent her other guests from listening to him.
- </p>
- <p>
- They would not understand him, she thought, and she did not make a mistake
- in this matter.
- </p>
- <p>
- She got rid of him as soon as possible, and once more breathed freely. He
- had not disgraced her—that was so much in his favour. The same could
- not always be said of her discoveries.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Christian Dynamitard was, people said, the only gentleman who had ever
- been introduced ta society by Mrs. Lampson.
- </p>
- <p>
- When Harold found his sister alone, he explained to her that it would be
- impossible for him to join her party at Abbeylands—Mr. Lampson’s
- Bracken-shire place—and his sister laughed and said she supposed
- that he had something better on his hands. He assured her that he had
- nothing better, only—
- </p>
- <p>
- “There, there,” said she, “I don’t want you to invent an excuse. You would
- only have met people whom you know.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of course,” said Harold, “you’re not foolish enough to ask your
- discoveries down to shoot pheasants. I should like to see some of them in
- a <i>battue</i> with my best enemies. Yes, I’d hire a window, with
- pleasure.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Didn’t he behave well—the Coming Dramatist?” said she, earnestly.
- “You cannot say he didn’t behave well—at least for a Coming Person.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He behaved—wonderfully,” said Harold. “Good-bye.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She followed him to the door of the room—nay, outside.
- </p>
- <p>
- “By the bye,” said she, in a whisper; “do you know anything of a Miss
- Avon?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Miss Avon?” said Harold. “Miss Avon. Why, if she is the daughter of
- Julius Anthony Avon, the historian, we met her at Castle Innisfail. Why do
- you ask me, Ella?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is so funny,” said she. “Yesterday Mr. Airey called upon me, and
- before he left he begged of me to call upon her, and even hinted—he
- has got infinite tact—that she would make a charming addition to our
- party at Abbeylands.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah,” said Harold.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And just now papa has been whispering to me about this same Miss Avon. He
- commanded me—papa has no tact—to invite her to join us for a
- week. I wonder what that means.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What what means?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That—Mr. Airey and papa.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Great Heaven! Ella, what should it mean, except that two men, for whom we
- have had a nominal respect, have gone over to the majority of fools?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, is that all? I was afraid that—ah, good-bye.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good-bye.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXXVI.—ON THE INFLUENCE OF A MAN OF THE WORLD.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t was true then—what
- he had surmised was true! Edmund Airey had shown himself to be actuated by
- a stronger impulse than a desire to assist Helen Craven to realize her
- hopes—so much appeared perfectly plain to Harold Wynne, as he
- strolled back to his rooms.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was now convinced that Edmund Airey was serious in his attitude in
- respect of Beatrice. At Castle Innisfail he had been ready enough to play
- the game with counters, on his side at least, as stakes, but now he meant
- to play a serious game.
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold recalled what proofs he had already received, to justify his
- arriving at this conclusion, and he felt that they were ample—he
- felt that this conclusion was the only one possible to be arrived at by
- anyone acquainted with all that had come under his notice.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was quite astounded to hear from his sister that Edmund Airey had taken
- so extreme a step as to beg of her to call upon Beatrice, and invite her
- to join the Abbeylands party. Whether or not he had approached Mrs.
- Lampson in confidence on this matter, the fact of his having approached
- her was, in some degree, compromising to himself, and no one was better
- aware of this fact than Edmund Airey. He was not an eager boy to give way
- to a passion without counting the cost. There was no more subtle
- calculator of costs than Edmund Airey, and Harold knew it.
- </p>
- <p>
- What, then, was left for Harold to infer?
- </p>
- <p>
- Nothing, except what he had already inferred.
- </p>
- <p>
- What then was left for him to do to checkmate the man who was menacing
- him?
- </p>
- <p>
- He had lived so long in that world, the centre of which is situated
- somewhere about Park Lane, and he had come to believe so thoroughly that
- the leading characteristic of this world is worldliness, that he had lost
- the capacity to trust anyone implicitly. He was unable to bring himself to
- risk everything upon the chance of Beatrice’s loving him, in the face of
- the worst that might occur.
- </p>
- <p>
- Thus it was that the little feeling of distrust which he experienced the
- previous day remained with him. It did not increase, but it was there. Now
- and again he could feel its cold finger upon his heart, and he knew that
- it was there.
- </p>
- <p>
- He could not love with that blind, unreasoning, uncalculating love—that
- love which knows only heaven and hell, not earth. That perfect love, which
- casteth out distrust, was not the love of his world.
- </p>
- <p>
- And thus it was that he walked to his rooms, thinking by what means he
- could bind that girl to him, so that she should be bound beyond the
- possibility of chance, or craft, or worldliness coming between them.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had not arrived at any satisfactory conclusion on this subject when he
- reached his rooms.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was surprised to find waiting for him Mr. Playdell, but he greeted the
- man cordially—he had acquired a liking for him, for he perceived
- that, with all his eccentricities—all his crude theories that he
- tried to vivify by calling them principles, he was still acting faithfully
- toward Archie Brown, and was preventing him from squandering hundreds of
- pounds where Archie might have squandered thousands.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are naturally surprised to see me, Mr. Wynne,” said Playdell. “I dare
- say that most men would think that I had taken a liberty in making an
- uninvited call like this.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I, at any rate, think nothing of the sort, Mr. Playdell,” said Harold.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am certain that you do not,” said Mr. Play-dell. “I am certain that you
- are capable of doing me justice—yes, on some points.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hope that I am, Mr. Playdell.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know that you are, Mr. Wynne. You are not one of those silly persons,
- wise in their own conceit, who wink at one another when my name is
- mentioned, and suggest that the unfrocked priest is making a very fair
- thing out of his young patron.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I believe that your influence over him is wholly for good, Mr. Playdell.
- If he were to allow you the income of a Bishop instead of that of a Dean I
- believe that he would still save money—a great deal of money—by
- having you near him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you are in no way astray, Mr. Wynne. I was prepared for what people
- would say when I accepted the situation that Archie offered me, but the
- only stipulation that I made was that my accounts were to be audited by a
- professional man, and monthly. Thus it is that I protect myself. Every
- penny that I receive is accounted for.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is a very wise plan, Mr. Playdell, but—”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But it has nothing to do with my coming here to-day? That is what you are
- too polite to say. You are right, Mr. Wynne. I have not come here to talk
- about myself and my systems, but about our friend Archie. You have great
- influence over him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’m afraid I haven’t much. If I had, I wouldn’t hesitate to tell him that
- he is making an ass of himself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have come to the point at once, Mr. Wynne.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Playdell had risen from his chair and was walking up and down the room
- with his head bent. Now he stood opposite to Harold.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The point?” said Harold.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The point is that he is being robbed right and left through the medium of
- the Legitimate Theatre, and a stop must be put to it,” said Playdell.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you think that I should make the attempt to put a stop to this
- foolishness of his? My dear Mr. Playdell, if I were to suggest to Archie
- that he is making an ass of himself over this particular matter, I should
- never have another chance of exercising my influence over him for good or
- bad. I have always known that Mrs. Mowbray is one of the most expensive
- tastes in England. But when the beauty of Mrs. Mowbray is to be exploited
- with the beauty of the poetry of Shakespeare, and when these gems are
- enclosed in so elaborate a setting as the Legitimate Theatre—well, I
- suppose Archie’s millions will hold out. There’s a deal of spending in
- three millions, Mr. Playdell.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “His millions will hold out,” said Mr. Playdell. “And so will he,” laughed
- Harold. “I have known Mrs. Mowbray for several years, and she has never
- ruined any man except her husband, and he is not worth talking about. She
- has always liked young men with wealth so enormous that even her powers of
- spending money can make no impression on it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. Wynne, you can have no notion what that theatre has cost Archie—what
- it is daily costing him. Eight hundred pounds a week wouldn’t cover the
- net loss of that ridiculous business—that trailing of Shakespeare in
- the mire, to gratify the vanity of a woman. I know what men are when they
- are very young. If I were to talk to Archie seriously on this subject, he
- would laugh at me; if he did not, he would throw something at me. The
- result would be <i>nil</i>.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Unless he was a good shot with a casual missile.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. Wynne, he would not listen to me; but he would listen to you—I
- know that he would. You could talk to him with all the authority of a man
- of the world—a man in Society.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. Playdell,” said Harold, shaking his head, “if there’s no fool like
- the old fool, there’s no ass like the young ass. Now, I can assure you, on
- the authority of a man of the world—you know what such an authority
- is worth—that to try and detach Archie from his theatre nonsense
- just now by means of a lecture, would be as impossible as to detach a
- limpet from a rock by a sermon on—let us say—the flexibility
- of the marriage bond.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Alas! alas!” said Mr. Playdell.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The only way that Archie can be induced to throw over Mrs. Mowbray and
- Shakespeare and suchlike follies, is by inducing him to form a stronger
- attachment elsewhere.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The last state of that man might be worse than the first, Mr. Wynne.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Might—yes, it might be, but that is no reason why it should be. The
- young ass takes to thistles, because it has never known the enjoyment of a
- legitimate pasture.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The legitimate pasture is some distance away from the Legitimate Theatre,
- Mr. Wynne.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I agree with you. Now, the thought has just occurred to me that I might
- get Archie brought among decent people, for the first time in his life. My
- sister, Mrs. Lampson, is having a party down at her husband’s place in
- Brackenshire, for the pheasant-shooting. Why shouldn’t Archie be one of
- the party? There are a number of decent men going, and decent women also.
- None of the men will try to get the better of him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And the women will not try to make a fool of him?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I won’t promise that—the world can’t cease to revolve on its axis
- because Archie Brown has a tendency to giddiness.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Playdell was grave. Then he said, thoughtfully, “Whatever the women
- may be, they can’t be of the stamp of Mrs. Mowbray.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You may trust my sister for that. You may also trust her to see that they
- are less beautiful than Mrs. Mowbray,” remarked Harold.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Playdell pondered.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Pheasant-shooting is expensive in its way,” said he. “The preservation of
- grouse runs away with a good deal of money also, I am told. Race horses,
- it is generally understood, entail considerable outlay. Put them all
- together, and you only come within measurable distance of Mrs. Mowbray and
- Shakespeare as a pastime—with nothing to show for the money—absolutely
- nothing to show for the money.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Except Mrs. Mowbray and Shakespeare.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. Wynne, I believe that your kind suggestion may be the saving of that
- lad,” said Playdell.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, it’s the merest chance,” said Harold. “He may grow sick of the whole
- business after the first <i>battue</i>.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He won’t. I’ve known men saved from destruction by scoring a century in a
- first-class cricket match: they gave themselves up to cricket, to the
- exclusion of other games less healthy. If Archie takes kindly to the
- pheasants, he may make up his mind to buy a place and preserve them. That
- will be a healthy occupation for him. You will give him to understand that
- it’s the proper thing to do, Mr. Wynne.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You may depend upon me. I’ll write to my sister to invite him. It’s only
- an experiment.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It will succeed, Mr. Wynne—it will succeed, I feel that it will. If
- you only knew, as I do, how he is being fooled, you would understand my
- earnestness—you have long ago forgiven my intrusion. Give me a
- chance of serving you in return, Mr. Wynne. That’s all I ask.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXXVII.—ON THE DEFECTIVE LINK.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>AROLD had a note
- written to Mrs. Lampson, begging her to invite his friend, Mr. Archie
- Brown, to join her party at Abbeylands, almost before Mr. Playdell had
- left the street. He knew that his sister would be very glad to have
- Archie. All the world had a general notion of Archie’s millions; and
- Abbeylands was one of those immense houses that can accommodate a
- practically unlimited number of guests. The property had been bought from
- a nobleman, who had been brought to the verge of bankruptcy by trying to
- maintain it. Mr. Lampson, a patriotic American, had come to his relief,
- and had taken the place off his hands.
- </p>
- <p>
- That is what all truly patriotic Americans do when they have an
- opportunity.
- </p>
- <p>
- The new-world democracy comes to the rescue of the old-world aristocracy,
- and thus a venerable institution is preserved from annihilation.
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold posted his letter as he went out to dine with a man who was a
- member of the Carlton Club, and zealous in heating up recruits for the
- Conservative party. He thought that Harold might possibly be open to
- conviction, not, of course, on the question of the righteousness of
- certain principles, but on the question of the direction in which the cat
- was about to jump. The jumping cat is the dominant power in modern
- politics.
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold ate his dinner, and listened patiently to the man whose
- acquaintance with the tendencies of every genus of the political <i>felis</i>
- was supposed to be extraordinary. He said little. Before he had gone to
- Castle Innisfail the subject would have interested him greatly, but now he
- thought that Archie Brown’s inanities were preferable to those of the
- politician.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was just enough to acknowledge, however, that the cigar with which he
- left the Carlton was as good a one as he had ever smoked. So that there
- was some advantage in being a Conservative after all.
- </p>
- <p>
- He walked round St. James’s Square, for the night was warm and fine. His
- mind was not conscious of having received anything during the previous two
- hours upon which it would be profitable to ponder. He thought over the
- question which he had put to himself previously—the question of how
- he could bind Beatrice to him—how he could make her certainly his
- own, and thus banish that cold distrust of which he now and again became
- aware—no, it was not exactly distrust, it was only a slightly
- defective link in the chain of complete trust.
- </p>
- <p>
- She loved him and she promised to love him. He reflected upon this, and he
- asked himself what more could he want. What bond stronger than her word
- could he desire to have?
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, I will trust her for ever—for ever,” he murmured. “If she is
- not true, then there never was truth on earth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He fancied that he had dismissed the matter from his mind with this
- exorcism.
- </p>
- <p>
- And so he had.
- </p>
- <p>
- But it so happens that some persons are so constituted that there is but
- the slenderest connection between their mind and their heart. Something
- that appeals very forcibly to their mind will not touch their heart in the
- least. They are Nature’s “sports.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Harold Wynne was one of these people. He had made up his mind that, on the
- question of implicitly trusting Beatrice, nothing more remained to be
- said. There was still, however, that cold finger upon his heart.
- </p>
- <p>
- But having made up his mind that nothing more remained to be said on the
- question, he was logical enough—for logic is also a mental
- attribute, though by no means universally distributed—to think of
- other matters.
- </p>
- <p>
- He began to think about Mr. Playdell, and his zeal for the reform of
- Archie. Harold’s respect for Mr. Playdell had materially increased since
- the morning. At first he had been inclined to look with suspicion upon the
- man who had, by the machinery of the Church, been prohibited from
- discharging the functions of a priest of that Church, though, of course,
- he was free to exercise that unimportant function known as preaching. He
- could not preach within a church, however. If he wished to try and save
- souls by preaching, that was his own business. He would not do so with the
- sanction of the Church. He was anxious to save the soul of Archie Brown,
- at any rate. He assumed that Archie had a soul in embryo, ready to be
- hatched, and it was clear to Harold that Mr. Playdell was anxious to save
- it from being addled before it had pecked its way out of its shell.
- Therefore Harold had a considerable respect for Mr. Playdell, though he
- had been one of the unprofitable servants of the Church.
- </p>
- <p>
- He thought of the earnest words of the man—of the earnest way in
- which he had begged to be given the chance of returning the service, which
- he believed was about to be done to him by Harold.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had been greatly in earnest; but that fact only made his words the more
- ridiculous.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What service could he possibly do me?” Harold thought, when he had had
- his laugh, recalling the outstretched hand of Mr. Playdell, and his eager
- eyes. “<i>What service could he possibly do me? What service?</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- He was rooted to the pavement. The driver of a passing hansom pulled up
- opposite him, taking the fact of his stopping so suddenly as an indication
- that he wanted a hansom.
- </p>
- <p>
- He took no notice of the hansom, and it passed up the square. He remained
- so long lost in thought, that his cigar, so strongly impregnated with
- sound Conservative principles, went out like any Radical weed, or the
- penny Pickwick of the Labour Processionist.
- </p>
- <p>
- He dropped the unsmoked end, and felt for his pocket-handkerchief. He
- raised his hat and wiped his forehead.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then he took a stroll into Piccadilly and on to Knightsbridge. He went
- down Sloane Street, and into Chelsea, returning by the Embankment to
- Westminster—the clock was chiming the hour of 2 a.m. as he passed.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the same clock had struck three before he got into bed, and five
- before he fell asleep.
- </p>
- <h3>
- END OF VOL. II.
- </h3>
- <div style="height: 6em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
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