diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/51946-8.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/51946-8.txt | 4940 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 4940 deletions
diff --git a/old/51946-8.txt b/old/51946-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index a3721d2..0000000 --- a/old/51946-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4940 +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 III - -Author: Frank Frankfort Moore - -Release Date: May 2, 2016 [EBook #51946] - -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 III - -SIXTH EDITION - -London - -HUTCHINSON & CO., 34 PATERNOSTER ROW - -1893 - -[Illustration: 0007] - - - - - -A GRAY EYE OR SO. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVIII.--ON A KNOWLEDGE OF THE WORLD. - -|SHORTLY after noon he was with her. He had left his rooms without -touching a morsel of breakfast, and it was plain that such sleep as -he had had could not have been of a soothing nature. He was pale and -haggard; and she seemed surprised--not frightened, however, for her -love was that which casteth out fear--at the way he came to her--with -outstretched hands which caught her own, as he said, "My beloved--my -beloved, I have a strange word for you--a strange proposal to make. -Dearest, can you trust me? Will you marry me--to-morrow--to-day?" - -She scarcely gave a start. He was only conscious of her hands tightening -upon his own. She kept her eyes fixed upon his. The silence was long. -It was made the more impressive by the distinctness with which the -jocularity of the fishmonger's hoy with the cook at the area railings, -was heard in the room. - -"Harold," she said, in a voice that had no trace of distrust, "Harold, -you are part of my life--all my life! When I said that I loved you, -I had given myself to you. I will marry you any time you -please--to-morrow--to-day--this moment!" - -She was in his arms, sobbing. - -His "God bless you, my darling!" sounded like a sob also. - -In a few moments she was laughing through her tears. - -He was not laughing. - -"Now, tell me what you mean, my beloved," said she, with a hand on each -of his shoulders. - -"Tell me what you mean by coming to frighten me like this. What has -happened?" - -"Nothing has happened, only I want to feel that you are my own--my own -beyond the possibility of being separated from me by any power on earth. -I do not want to take you away from your father's house--I cannot offer -you any home. It may be years before we can live together as those who -love one another as we love, may live with the good will of heaven. I -only want you to become my wife in name, dearest. Our marriage must be -kept a secret." - -"But my own love," said she, "why should you wish to go through this -ceremony? Are we not united by the true bond of love? Can we be more -closely united than we are now? The strength of the marriage bond -is only strong in proportion as the love which is the foundation of -marriage is strong. Now, why should you wish for the marriage rite -before we are prepared to live for ever under the same roof?" - -"Why, why?" he cried passionately, as he looked into the depths of her -eyes. - -He left her and went across the room to one of the windows and looked -out. (It was the greengrocer's boy who was now jocular with the cook at -the area railings.) - -"My Beatrice--" Harold had returned to her from his scrutiny of the -pavement. "My Beatrice, you have not seen all that I have seen in the -world. You do not know--you do not know me as I know myself. Why should -there come to me sometimes an unworthy thought--no, not a doubt--oh, I -have seen so much of the world, Beatrice, I feel that if anything should -come between us it would kill me. I must--I must feel that we are made -one--that there is a bond binding us together that nothing can sever." - -"But, my Harold--no, I will not interpose any buts. You would not ask -me to do this if you had not some good reason. You say that you know the -world. I admit that I do not know it. I only know you, and knowing -you and loving you with all my heart--with all my soul--I trust you -implicitly--without a question--without the shadow of a doubt." - -"God bless you, my love, my love! You will never have reason to regret -loving me--trusting me." - -"It is my life--it is my life, Harold." - -Once again he was standing at the window. This time he remained longer -with his eyes fixed upon the railings of the square enclosure. - -"It must be to-morrow," he said, returning to her. "I shall come here at -noon. A few words spoken in this room and nothing can part us. You will -still call yourself by your own name, dearest, God hasten the day when -you can come to me as my wife in the sight of all the world and call -yourself by my name." - -"I shall be here at noon to-morrow," said she. - -"Unless," said he, returning to her after he had kissed her forehead and -had gone to the door. "Unless"--he framed her face with his hands, -and looked down into the depths of her eyes.--"Unless, when you have -thought over the whole matter, you feel that you cannot trust me." - -She laughed. - -"Ah, my love, my love, you do not know the world," said he. - -He knew the world. - -Another man who knew the world was Pontius Pilate. - -This was why he asked "What is Truth?" - -Harold Wynne was in Archie Brown's room in Piccadilly within half an -hour. - -Archie was at the Legitimate Theatre, Mr. Playdell said--Mr. Playdell -was seated at the dining-room table surrounded by papers. A trifling -difference of opinion had arisen between Mrs. Mowbray and her manager, -he added, and (with a smile) Archie had hurried to the theatre to set -matters right. - -"It is kind of you to call, Mr. Wynne," continued Mr. Playdell. "But I -hope it is not to tell me that you regret the suggestion that you made -yesterday--that you do not see your way to write to your sister to -invite Archie to her place." - -"I wrote to her the moment you left me," said Harold. "Archie will -get his invitation this evening. It is not about him that I came here -to-day, Mr. Playdell. I came to see you. You asked me yesterday to -give you an opportunity of doing something for me. I can give you that -opportunity." - -"And I promise you that I shall embrace it with gladness, Mr. Wynne," -said Playdell, rising from the table. "Tell me how I can serve you and -you will find how ready I am." - -"You still hold to your original principles regarding marriage, Mr. -Playdell?" - -"How could I do otherwise than hold to them, Mr. Wynne? They are the -result of thought; they are not merely a fad to gain notoriety. Let me -prove the position that I take up on this matter." - -"You need not, Mr. Playdeil. I heard all your case when it was -published. I confess that I now think differently respecting you from -what I thought at that time. Will you perform the ceremony of marriage -between a lady who has promised to marry me and myself?" - -"There is only one condition that I make, Mr. Wynne. You must take an -oath that you consider the rite, as I perform it, to be binding upon -you, and that you will never recognize a divorce." - -"I will take that oath willingly, Mr. Playdeil. I have promised my -_fiancée_ that we shall be with her at noon to-morrow. She will be -prepared for us. By the way, do you require a ring for the ceremony as -performed by you?" - -Mr. Playdeil looked grave--almost scandalized. - -"Mr. Wynne," said he, "that question suggests to me a certain disbelief -on your part in the validity in the sight of heaven of the rite of -marriage as performed by a man with a full sense of his high office, -even though unfrocked by a Church that has always shown too great a -readiness to submit to secular guidance--secular restrictions in matters -that were originally, like marriage, purely spiritual. The Church -has not only submitted to civil restrictions in the matter of the -celebration of the holy rite of matrimony, but, while declaring at the -altar that God has joined them whom the Church has joined, and while -denying the authority of man to put them asunder, she recognizes the -validity of divorce. She will marry a man who has been divorced from -his wife, when he has duly paid the Archbishop a sum of money for -sanctioning what in the sight of God is adultery." - -"My dear Mr. Playdell," said Harold, "I recollect very clearly the able -manner in which you defended your--your--principles, when they were -called in question. I do not desire to call them in question now. I -believe in your sincerity in this matter and in other matters. I -shall drive here for you at half past eleven o'clock to-morrow. I need -scarcely say that I mean my marriage to be kept a secret." - -"You may depend upon my good faith in that respect," said Mr. Playdell. -"Mr. Wynne," he added, impressively, "this land of ours will never be -a moral one so long as the Church is content to accept a Parliamentary -definition of morality. The Church ought certainly to know her own -business." - -"There I quite agree with you," said Harold. - -He refrained from asking Mr. Playdell if the Church, in dispensing with -his services as one of her priests, had not made an honest attempt to -vindicate her claims to know her own business. He merely said, "Half -past eleven to-morrow," after shaking hands with Mr. Playdell, who -opened the door for him. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIX.--ON CONSCIENCE AND THE RING. - -|HAROLD WYNNE shut himself up in his rooms without even lunching. He -drew a chair in front of the fire and seated himself with the sigh of -relief that is given by a man who has taken a definite step in some -matter upon which he has been thinking deeply for some time. He sat -there all the day, gazing into the fire. - -Yes, he had taken the step that had suggested itself to him the previous -night. He had made up his mind to take advantage of the opportunity that -was afforded him of binding Beatrice to him by a bond which she at least -would believe incapable of rupture. The accident of his meeting with the -man whose views on the question of marriage had caused him to be thrust -out of the Church, and whose practices left him open to a criminal -prosecution, had suggested to him the means for binding to him the girl -whose truth he had no reason to doubt. - -He meant to perpetrate a fraud upon her. He had known of men entrapping -innocent girls by means of a mock marriage, and he had always regarded -such men as the most unscrupulous of scoundrels. He almost succeeded, -after a time, in quieting the whisperings by his conscience of the -word "fraud"--its irritating repetitions of this ugly word--by giving -prominence to the excellence of his intentions in the transaction which -he was contemplating. It was not a mock marriage--no, it was not, as -ordinary mock marriages, to be gone through in order to give a man -possession of the body of a woman, and to admit of his getting rid of -her when it would suit his convenience to do so. It was, he assured -his conscience, no mock marriage, since he was seeking it for no gross -purpose, but simply to banish the feeling of cold distrust which he had -now and again experienced. Had he not offered to free the girl from the -promise which she had given to him? Was that like the course which would -be adopted by a man endeavouring to take advantage of a girl by means -of a mock marriage? Was there anything on earth that he desired more -strongly than a real marriage with that same girl? There was nothing. -But it was, unfortunately, the case that a real marriage would mean ruin -to him; for he knew that his father would keep his word--when it suited -his own purpose--and refuse him his allowance upon the day that he -refused to sign a declaration to the effect that he was unmarried. - -The rite which Mr. Playdell had promised to perform between him and -Beatrice would enable him to sign the declaration with--well, with a -clear conscience. - -But in the meantime this same conscience continued gibing him upon his -defence of his conduct; asking him with an irritating sneer, if he would -mind explaining his position to the girl's father?--if he was not simply -taking advantage of the peculiar circumstances of the girl's life--of -the remarkable independence which she enjoyed, apparently with the -sanction of her father, to perpetrate a fraud upon her? - -For bad taste, for indelicacy, for vulgarity, for disregard of sound -argument--that is, argument that sounds well--and for general obstinacy, -there is nothing to compare with a conscience that remains in moderately -good working order. - -After all his straightforward reasoning during the space of two hours, -he sprang from his seat crying, "I'll not do it--I'll not do it!" - -He walked about his room for an hour, repeating every now and again the -words, "I'll not do it--I'll not do it!" - -In the course of another hour, he turned on his electric lamp, and wrote -a note of half a dozen lines to Mr Playdell, telling him that, on -second thoughts, he would not trouble him the next day. Then he wrote an -equally short note to Beatrice, telling her that he thought it would be -advisable to have a further talk with her before carrying out the plan -which he had suggested to her for the next day. He put each note into -its cover; but when about to affix stamps to them, he found that his -stamp-drawer was empty. This was not a serious matter; he was going -to his club to dine, and he knew that he could get stamps from the -hall-porter. - -He felt very much lighter at heart leaving his rooms than he had felt on -entering some hours before. He felt that he had been engaged in a severe -conflict, and that he had got the better of his adversary. - -At the door of the club he found Mr. Durdan standing somewhat vacantly. -He brightened up at the appearance of Harold. - -"I've just been trying to catch some companionable fellow to dine with -me," he cried. - -"I'm sorry that I can't congratulate you upon finding one," said Harold. - -"Then I congratulate myself," said Mr. Durdan, brightly. "You're the -most companionable man that I know in town at present." - -"Ah, then you're not aware of the fact that Edmund Airey is here just -now," said Harold with a shrewd laugh. - -"Edmund Airey? Edmund Airey?" said Mr. Durdan. "Let me tell you that -your friend Edmund Airey is----" - -"Don't say it in the open air," said Harold. - -"Come inside and make the revelation to me." - -"Then you will dine with me? Good! My dear fellow, my medical man has -warned me times without number of the evil of dining alone, or with a -newspaper--even the _Telegraph_. It's the beginning of dyspepsia, he -says; so I wait at the door any time I am dining here until I get hold -of the right man." - -"If I can play the part of a priest and exorcise the demon that you're -afraid of, you may reckon upon my services," said Harold. "But to tell -you the truth, I'm a bit down myself to-night." - -"What's the matter with you--nothing serious?" said Mr. Durdan. - -"I've been working out some matters," said Harold. - -"I know what's the matter with you," said the other. "That friend of -yours has been trying to secure you for the Government, and you were too -straightforward to be entrapped? Airey is a clever man--I don't deny his -cleverness for a moment. Oh, yes; Mr. Airey is a very clever man." It -seemed that he was now levelling an accusation against Mr. Airey that -his best friends would find difficulty in repudiating. "Yes, but you and -I, Wynne, are not to be caught by a phrase. The moment he fancied that I -was attracted to her--I say, fancied, mind--and that he fancied--it may -have been the merest fancy--that she was not altogether indifferent to -me, he forced himself forward, and I have good reason to believe that he -is now in town solely on her account. I give you my word, Wynne, I never -spoke a sentence to Miss Avon that all the world mightn't hear. Oh, -there's nothing so contemptible as a man like Airey--a fellow who is -attracted to a girl only when he sees that she is attracting other men. -Yes, I met a man yesterday who told me that Airey was in town. 'Why -should he be in town now?' I inquired. 'There's nothing going on in -town.' He winked and said, '_cherchez la femme_'--he did upon my word. -Oh, the days of the Government are numbered. Will you try Chablis or -Sauterne?" - -Harold said that he rather thought that he would try Chablis. - -For another hour-and-a-half he was forced to listen to Mr. Durdan's -prosing about the blunders of the Administration, and the designs of -Edmund Airey. He left the club without asking the hall-porter for any -stamps. - -He had made up his mind that he would not need any stamps that night. - -Before he reached his rooms he took out of the pocket of his overcoat -the two letters which he had written, and he tore them both into small -pieces. - -With the chatter of Mr. Durdan there had come back to him that feeling -of distrust. - -Yes, he would make sure of her. - -He unlocked one of the drawers in his writing-table and brought out -a small _boule_ case. When he had found--not without a good deal of -searching--the right key for the box, he opened it. It contained an -ivory miniature of his mother, in a Venetian mounting, a few jewels, and -two small rings. One of them was set with a fine chrysoprase cameo of -Eros, and surrounded by rubies. The other was an old _in memoriam_ ring. - -He picked up the cameo and scrutinized it attentively for some time, -slipping it down to the first joint of his little finger. He kept -turning it over for half an hour before he laid it on the desk and -relocked the box and the drawer. - -"It will be hers," he said. "Would I use my mother's ring for this -ceremony if I meant it to be a fraud--if I meant to take advantage of it -to do an injury to my beloved one? As I deal with her, so may God deal -with me when my hour comes." It was a ring that had been left to him -with a few other trinkets by his mother, and he had now chosen it for -the ceremony which was to be performed the next day. - -Curiously enough, the fact of his choosing this ring did more to silence -the whispering jeers of his conscience than all his phrases of argument -had done. - -The next day he called for Mr. Playdell in a hansom, and shortly after -noon, the words of the marriage service of the Church of England had -been repeated in the Bloomsbury drawing-room by the man who had once -been a priest and who still wore the garb of a priest. He, at any rate, -did not consider the rite a mockery. - -Harold could not shake off the feeling that he was acting a part in a -dream. When it was all over he dropped into a chair, and his head fell -forward until his face was buried in his hands. - -It was left for Beatrice to comfort this sufferer in his hour of trial. - -Her hand--his mother's ring was upon the third finger--was upon his -head, and he heard her low sympathetic voice saying, "My husband--my -husband--I shall be a true wife to you for ever and ever. We shall live -trusting one another for ever, my beloved!" - -They were alone in the room. He did not raise his face from his hands -for a long time. She knelt beside where he was sitting and put her head -against his. - -In an instant he had clasped her passionately. He held her close to him, -looking into her eyes. - -"Oh, my love, my love," he cried. "What am I that you should have given -to me that divine gift of your love? What am I that I should have asked -you to do this for my sake? Was there ever such love as yours, Beatrice? -Was there ever such baseness as mine? Will you forgive me, Beatrice?" - -"Only once," said she, "I felt that--I scarcely know what I felt, -dear--I think it was that your hurrying on our marriage showed--was it a -want of trust?" - -"I was a fool--a fool!" he said bitterly. "The temptation to bind you to -me was too great to be resisted. But now--oh, Beatrice, I will give up -my life to make you happy!" - - - - -CHAPTER XL.--ON SOCIETY AND THE SEAL. - -|THE next afternoon when Harold called upon Beatrice, he found her with -two letters in her hand. The first was a very brief one from her father, -letting her know that he would have to remain in Dublin for at least -a fortnight longer; the second was from Mrs. Lampson--she had paid -Beatrice a ten minutes' visit the previous day--inviting her to stay for -a week at Abbeylands, from the following Tuesday. - -"What am I to do in the matter, my husband--you see how quickly I have -come to recognize your authority?" she cried, while he glanced at his -sister's invitation. - -"My dearest, you had better recognize the duty of a wife in this and -other matters, by pleasing yourself," said he. - -"No," said she. "I will only do what you advise me. That, you should see -as a husband--I see it clearly as a wife--will give me a capital chance -of throwing the blame on you in case of any disappointment. Oh, yes, you -may be certain that if I go anywhere on your recommendation and fail to -enjoy myself, all the blame will be laid at your door. That's the way -with wives, is it not?" - -"I can't say," said he. "I've never had one from whom to get any hints -that would enable me to form an opinion." - -"Then what did you mean by suggesting to me that it was wife-like to -please myself?" said she, with an affectation of shrewdness that was -extremely charming. - -"I've seen other men's wives now and again," said he. "It was a great -privilege." - -"And they pleased themselves?" - -"They did not please me, at any rate. I don't see why you shouldn't go -down to my sister's place next week. You should enjoy yourself." - -"You will be there?" - -He shook his head. - -"I was to have been there," said he; "but when I promised to go I had -not met you. When I found that you were to be in town, I told Ella, my -sister, that it was impossible for me to join her party." - -"Of course that decides the matter," said she. "I must remain here, -unless you change your mind and go to Abbeylands." - -He remained thoughtful for a few moments, and then he turned to where -she was opening the old mahogany escritoire. - -"I particularly want you to go to my sister's," he said. "A reason has -just occurred to me--a very strong reason, why you should accept the -invitation, especially as I shall not be there." - -"Oh, no," said she, "I could not go without you." - -"My dear Beatrice, where is that wifely obedience of which you mean to -be so graceful an exponent?" said he, standing behind her with a hand on -each of her shoulders. "The fact is, dearest, that far more than you -can imagine depends on your taking this step. It is necessary to throw -people--my relations in particular--off the notion that something came -of our meeting at Castle Innisfail. Now, if you were to go to Abbeylands -while it was known that I had excused myself, you can understand what -the effect would be." - -"The effect, so far as I'm concerned, would be that I should be -miserable, all the time I was away from you." - -"The effect would be, that those people who may have been joining our -names together, would feel that they have been a little too precipitate -in their conclusions." - -"That seems a very small result for so much self-sacrifice on our part, -Harold." - -"It's not so small as it may seem to you. I see now how important -it would be to me--to both of us--if you were to go for a week to -Abbeylands while I remain in town." - -"Then of course I'll go. Yes, dear; I told you that I would trust you -for ever. I placed all my trust in you yesterday. How many people would -condemn me for marrying you in such indecent haste--that is what they -would call it--and without a word of consultation with my father either? -When I showed my trust in you at that time--the most important in -my life--you may, I think, have confidence that I will trust you in -everything. Yes, I'll go." - -He had turned away from her. How could he face her when she was talking -in this way about her trust in him? - -"There has never been trust like yours, my beloved," said he, after a -pause. "You will never regret it for a moment, my love--never, never!" - -"I know it--I know it," said she. - -"The fact is, Beatrice," said he, after another pause, "my relatives -think that if I were to marry Helen Craven I should be doing a -remarkably good stroke of business. They were right: it would be a good -stroke--of business." - -"How odd," cried Beatrice. She had become thoroughly interested. "I -never thought of such a possibility at Castle Innisfail. She is nice, I -think; only she does not know how to dress." - -In an instant there came to his memory Mrs. Mowbray's cynical words -regarding the extent of a woman's forgiveness. - -"The question of being nice or of dressing well does not make any -difference so far as my friends are concerned," said he. "All that is -certain is that Helen Craven has several thousands of pounds a year, and -they think that I should be satisfied with that." - -"And so you should," she cried, with the light of triumph in her eyes. -"I wonder if Mr. Airey knew what the wishes of your relatives were in -this matter. I should like to know that, because I now recollect that -he suggested something in that way when we talked together about you one -evening at the Castle." - -"Edmund Airey gave me the strongest possible advice on the subject," -said Harold. "Yes, he advised me to ask Helen Craven to be my wife. More -than that--I only learnt it a few days ago--so soon as you appeared at -the Castle, and he saw--he sees things very quickly--that I was in love -with you, he thought that if he were to interest you greatly, and -that if you found out that he was wealthy and distinguished, you might -possibly decline to fall in love with me, and so----" - -"And so fall in love with him?" she cried, starting up from her chair -at the desk. "I see now all that he meant. He meant that I should be -interested in him--I was, too, greatly interested in him--and that I -should be attracted to him, and away from you. But all the time he had -no intention of allowing himself to be attracted by me to the point -of ever asking me to marry him. In short, he was amusing himself at my -expense. Oh, I see it all now. I must confess that, now and again, I -wondered what Mr. Airey meant by placing himself so frequently by my -side. I felt flattered--I admit that I felt flattered. Can you imagine -anything so cruel as the purpose that he set himself to accomplish?" - -Her face had become pale. This only gave emphasis to the flashing of her -eyes. She was in a passion of indignation. - -"Edmund Airey and his tricks were defeated," said Harold in a low voice. -"Yes, we have got the better of him, Beatrice, so much is certain." - -"But the cruelty of it--the cruelty--oh, what does it matter now?" she -cried. Then her paleness vanished into a delicate roseate flush, as she -gave a laugh, and said, "After all, I believe that my indignation is due -only to my wounded vanity. Yes, all girls are alike, Harold. Our vanity -is our dominant quality." - -"It is not so with you, Beatrice," he said. "I know you truly, my dear. -I know that you would be as indignant if you heard of the same trickery -being carried on in respect of another girl." - -"I would--I know I would," she cried. "But what does it matter? As you -say, I--we--have defeated this Mr. Airey, so that my vanity at least can -find sweet consolation in reflecting that we have been cleverer than he -was. I don't suppose that he could imagine anyone existing cleverer than -himself." - -"Yes, I think that we have got the better of him," said Harold. He was -a little surprised to find that she felt so strongly on the subject of -Edmund's attitude in regard to herself. He did not think it wise to tell -her that that attitude was due to the timely suggestion of Helen. He -could not bring himself to do so. He felt that his doing so would be -to place himself on a level with the man who gives his wife during the -first year of their married life, a circumstantial account of the -many wealthy and beautiful young women who were anxious--to a point of -distraction--to marry him. - -He felt that there was no need for him to say anything about Helen--he -almost wished that he had said nothing about Edmund. - -"We got the better of him," he said a second time. "Never mind Edmund -Airey. You must go to Abbeylands and amuse yourself. You will most -likely meet with Archie Brown there. Archie is the plainest looking and -probably the richest man of his age in England. He is to be made the -subject of an experiment at Abbeylands." - -"Is he to be vivisected?" said she. She was now neither pale nor -roseate. She was herself once more. - -"There's no need to vivisect poor Archie," said he. "Everyone knows that -there's nothing particular about Archie. No; we are merely trying a new -cure for him. He has not been in a very healthy state lately." - -"If he is delicate, I suppose he will be thrown a good deal with us--the -females, the incapables--while the pheasant-shooting is going on." - -"You will see how matters are managed at Abbeylands," said Harold. "If -you find that Archie is attracted toward any girl who is distinctly -nice, you might--how does a girl assist her weaker sister to make up her -mind to look with friendly eyes upon such a one as Archie?" - -"Let me see," said she. "Wouldn't the best way be for girl number one to -look with friendly eyes on him herself?" - -Harold lay back on his chair and laughed at first; then he gazed at her -in wonder. - -"You are cleverer than Edmund Airey and Helen Craven when they combine -their wisdom," said he. "Your woman's instinct is worth more than their -experience." - -"I never knew what the instincts of a woman were before this morning," -said she. "I never felt that I had any need to exercise the instinct -of defence. I suppose the young seal, though it has never been in the -water, jumps in by instinct should it be attacked. Oh, yes, I dare say I -could swim as well as most girls of my age." - -It was only when he had returned to his rooms that he fully comprehended -the force of her parable of the young seal. - - - - -CHAPTER XLI.--ON DRY CHAMPAGNE AND A CRISIS. - -|THE next morning Archie drove one of his many machines round to -Harold's rooms and broke in upon him before he had finished his -breakfast. - -"Hallo, my tarty chip," cried Archie; "what's the meaning of this?" - -He threw on the table an envelope addressed to him in the handwriting of -Mrs. Lampson. - -"What's the meaning of what?" said Harold. "Have you got beyond the -restraint of Mr. Playdell alcoholically, that you ask me what's the -meaning of that envelope?" - -"I mean what does the inside mean?" said Archie. - -"I'm sure you know better than I do, if you've read what's inside it." - -"Oh, you're like one of the tarty chips in the courts that cross-examine -other tarty chips until their faces are blue," said Archie. "There's -no show for that sort of thing here. So just open the envelope and see -what's inside." - -"How can I do that and eat my kidneys?" said Harold. "I wish to heavens -you wouldn't come here bothering me when I'm trying to get through a -tough kidney and a tougher leading article. What's the matter with the -letter, Archie, my lad?" - -"It's all right," said Archie. "It's an invite from your sister for -a big shoot at Abbeylands. What does it mean--that's what I'd like to -know? Does it mean that decent people are going to make me the apple of -their eye, after all?" - -"I don't think it goes quite so far as that," said Harold. "I expect it -means that my sister has come to the end of her discoveries and she's -forced to fall back on you." - -"Oh, is that all?" Archie looked disappointed. "All? Isn't it enough?" -said Harold. "Why, you're in luck if you let her discover you. I knew -that her atheists couldn't hold out. She used them up too quickly. One -should he economical of one's genuine atheists nowadays." - -"Great Godfrey! does she take me for an atheist?" shouted Archie. - -"Did you ever hear of an atheist shooting pheasants?" said Harold. "Not -likely. An atheist is a man that does nothing except talk, and talks -about nothing except himself. Now, you're asked to the shoot, aren't -you?" - -"That's in the invite anyway." - -"Of course. And that shows that you're not taken for an atheist." - -"I'm glad of that. I draw the line at atheism," Archie replied with a -smile. - -"I hope you'll have a good time among the pheasants." - -"Do you suppose that I'll go?" - -"I'm sure you will. I may have thought you a bit of a fool before I came -to know you, Archie--" - -"And since you heard that I had taken the Legitimate." - -"Well, yes, even after that masterpiece of astuteness. But I would never -think that you'd be fool enough to throw away this chance." - -"Chance--chance of what?" - -"Of getting among decent people. I told you that my sister has nothing -but decent people when there's a shoot--there's no Coming Man in -anything among the house-party. Yes, it's sure to be comfortable. It's -the very thing for you." - -"Is it? I'm not so certain about it. The people there are pretty sure to -allude in a friendly spirit to my red hair." - -"Well, yes, I think you may depend upon that. That means that you'll get -on so well among them that they will take an interest in your -personality. If you get on particularly well with them they may even -allude to the simplicity of your mug. If they do that, you may be -certain that you are a great social success." - -Archie mused. - -It was in this musing spirit that he took in a contemplative way a lump -of sugar out of the sugar bowl, turned it over between his fingers as -though it was something altogether new to him. Then he threw the lump up -to the ceiling, his face became one mouth, and the sugar disappeared. - -"I think I'll go," he said, as he crunched the lump. "Yes, I'll be -hanged if I don't go." - -"That's more than probable," said Harold. - -"Yes, I'd like to clear off for a bit from this kennel." - -"What kennel?" - -"This kennel--London. Do you go the length of denying that London's a -kennel?" - -"I don't do anything of the sort." - -"You'd best not. I was thinking if a run to Australia, or California, or -Timbuctoo would not be healthy just now." - -"Oh." - -"Yes, I made up my mind yesterday, that if I don't have better hands -soon, I'll chuck up the whole game. That's the sort of new potatoes that -I am." - -"The Legitimate?" - -"The Legitimate be frizzled! Am I to continue paying for the suppers -that other tarty chips eat? That's what I want you to tell me. You know -what a square deal is, Wynne, as well as most people." - -"I believe I do." - -"Well, then, you can tell me if I'm to pay for dry champagne for her -guests." - -"Whose guests?" - -"Great Godfrey! haven't I been telling you? Mrs. Mowbray's guests. Who -else's would they be? Do you mean to tell me that, in addition to giving -people free boxes at the Legitimate every night to see W. S. late of -Stratford upon Avon, it's my business to supply dry champagne all round -after the performance?" - -"Well," said Harold, "to speak candidly to you, I've always been of -the opinion that the ideal proprietor of a theatre is one who supplies -really comfortable stalls free, and has really sound champagne handed -round at intervals during the performance. I also frankly admit that -I haven't yet met with any manager who quite realized my ideas in this -matter. Archie, my lad, the sooner you get down to Abbeylands the better -it will be for yourself." - -"I'll go. Mind you, I don't cry off when I know the chaps that she asks -to supper--I'll flutter the dimes for anyone I know; but I'm hanged if -I do it for the chaps that chip in on her invite. They'll not draw cards -from my pack, Wynne. No, I'll see them in the port of Hull first. That's -the sort of new potatoes that I am." - -"Give me your hand, Archie," cried Harold. "I always thought you nothing -better than a millionaire, but I find that you're a man after all." - -"I'll make things hum at the Legitimate yet," said Archie--his voice was -fast approaching the shouting stage. "I'll send them waltzing round. I -thought once upon a time that, when she laid her hand upon my head -and said, 'Poor old Archie,' I could go on for ever--that to see the -decimals fluttering about her would be the loveliest sight on earth -for the rest of my life. But I'm tired of that show now, Wynne. Great -Godfrey! I can get my hair smoothed down at a barber's for sixpence, and -yet I believe that she charged me a thousand pounds for every time she -patted my head. A decimal for a pat--a pat!" - -"You could buy the whole Irish nation for less money, according to some -people's ideas--but they're wrong," said Harold. - -"Wynne," said Archie, solemnly. "I've been going it blind for some time. -Shakespeare's a fraud. I'll shoot those pheasants." - -He had picked up his hat, and in another minute Harold saw him sending -his pair of chestnuts down the street at a pace that showed a creditable -amount of self-restraint on the part of Archie. - -Three days afterwards Harold got a letter from Mrs. Lampson, giving him -a number of commissions to execute for her--delicate matters that could -not be intrusted to any one except a confidential agent. The postscript -mentioned that Archie Brown had arrived a few days before and had -charmed every one with his shyness. On this account she could scarcely -believe, she said, that he was a millionaire. She added that Lady -Innisfail and her daughter had just arrived at Abbeylands, that the Miss -Avon about whom she had inquired, had accepted her invitation and was -coming to Abbeylands on the next day; and finally, Mrs. Lampson said -that her father was dull enough to make people believe that he was -really reformed. He was inquiring when Miss Avon was coming, and he -shared the fate of all men (and women) who were unfortunate enough to -be reformed: he had become deadly dull. Lady Innisfail had assured her, -however, that it was very rarely that a Hardened Reprobate permanently -reformed--even with the incentive of acute rheumatism--before he was -sixty-five, so that it would be unwise to be despondent about -Lord Fotheringay. If this was so--and Lady Innisfail was surely an -authority--Mrs. Lampson said that she looked forward to such a lapse on -the part of her father as would restore him to the position of interest -which he had always occupied in the eyes of the world. - -Harold lay back in his chair and laughed heartily at the reference made -by his sister to the shyness of Archie, and also to the fact of Norah -Innisfail's sitting at the table with the Young Reprobate as well as the -Old. He wondered if the conversation had yet turned upon the management -of the Legitimate Theatre. - -It was after he had lunched on the next Tuesday that Harold received -this letter--written by his sister the previous day. He had passed -an hour with Beatrice, who was to start by the four-twenty train for -Abbeylands station. He had said goodbye to her for a week, and already -he was feeling so lonely that he was soon pacing his room calling -himself a fool for having elected to remain in town while she was to go. - -He thought how they might have had countless strolls through the fine -park at Abbeylands--through the picturesque ruins of the old Abbey--on -the banks of the little trout stream. Instead of being by her side among -those interesting scenes, he would have to remain--he had been foolish -enough to make the choice--in the neighbourhood of nothing more joyous -than St. James's Palace. - -This was bad enough; but not merely would he be away from the landscapes -at Abbeylands, the elements of life in those landscapes would be -represented by Beatrice and Another. - -Yes; she would certainly appear with someone at her side--in the place -he might have occupied if he had not been such a fool. - -An hour had passed before he had got the better of his impulse to call -a hansom and drive to the railway terminus and take a seat beside her in -the train. When the clock had struck four, and it was therefore too late -for him to entertain the idea of going with her, he became more inclined -to take a reasonable view of the situation. - -"I was right." he said, as he seated himself in front of the fire, -and stared into the smouldering coals. "Yes, I was right. No one must -suspect that we are--bound to one another"--the words were susceptible -of a sufficiently liberal interpretation. "The penetration of Edmund -Airey will be at fault for the first time, and the others who had so -many suspicions at Castle Innisfail, will find themselves completely at -fault." - -He began to think how, though he had been cruelly dealt with by Fate in -some respects--in respect of his own father, for instance, and also in -respect of his own poverty--he had still much to be thankful for. - -He was beloved by the loveliest woman whom he had ever seen--the only -woman for whom he had ever felt a passion. And the peculiar position -which she occupied, had enabled him to see her every day and to kiss her -exquisite face--there was none to make him afraid. Such obstacles in the -way of a lover's freedom as the Average Father, the Vigilant Mother -and the Athletic Brother he had never encountered. And then a curious -circumstance--the thought of Beatrice as a part of the landscapes around -Abbeylands caused him to lay special emphasis upon this--had enabled him -to bind the girl to him with a bond which in her eyes at least--yes, in -his eyes too, by heaven, he felt--was not susceptible of being loosened. - -Yes, the ways of Providence were wonderful, he felt. If he had not met -Mr. Playdell.... and so forth. - -But now Beatrice was his own. She might stray through the autumn -woods by the side of Edmund Airey or any man whom she might meet at -Abbeylands; she would feel upon her finger the ring that he had placed -there--the ring that---- - -He sprang to his feet with a sudden cry. - -"Good God! the Ring! the Ring!" - -He looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. It pointed to four-seventeen. - -He pulled out his watch. It pointed to four-twenty-two. - -He rushed to the sofa where an overcoat was lying. He had it on him in a -moment. He snatched up a railway guide and stuffed it into his pocket. - -In another minute he was in a hansom, driving as fast as the hansomeer -thought consistent with public safety--a trifle over that which the -police authorities thought consistent with public safety--in the -direction of the Northern Railway terminus. - - - - -CHAPTER XLII.--ON THE RING AND THE LOOK. - -|HE tried, while in the hansom, to unravel the mysteries of the system -by which passengers were supposed to reach Brackenshire. He found the -four-twenty train from London indicated in its proper order. This was -the train by which he had invariably travelled to Abbeylands--it was the -last train in the day that carried passengers to Abbeylands Station, for -the station was on a short branch line, the junction being Mowern. - -On reaching the terminus he lost no time in finding a responsible -official--one whose chastely-braided uniform looked repressful of tips. - -"I want to get to Mowern Junction before the four-twenty train from here -goes on to Abbeylands. Can I do it?" said Harold. - -"Next train to the Junction five-thirty-two, sir," said the official. - -"That's too late for me," said Harold. "The train leaves the Junction -for Abbeylands a quarter of an hour after arriving at Mowern. Is there -no local train that I might manage to catch that would bring me to the -Junction?" - -"None that would serve your purpose, sir." - -Harold clearly saw how it was that this company could never get their -dividend over four per cent. - -"Why is there so long a wait at Mowern?" he asked. - -"Waits for Ditchford Mail, sir." - -"And at what time does a train start for Ditch-ford?" - -"Can't tell, sir. Ditchford is on the Nethershire system--they have -running powers over our line to Mowern." - -Harold whipped out his guide, and found Ditch-ford in the index. By an -inspiration he turned at once to the page devoted to the Nethershire -service of trains. He found that, by an exquisite system of timing the -trains, it was possible to reach a station a mile from Ditchford on the -one line, just six minutes after the departure of the last local train -to Ditchford on the other line. It took a little ingenuity, no doubt, -on the part of the Directors of both lines to accomplish this, but still -they managed to do it. - -"I beg pardon, sir," said an official wearing a uniform that suggested -tolerance of views in the matter of tips--the more important official -had moved away. "I beg pardon, sir. Why not take the four-fifty-five -to Mindon, and change into the Ditchford local train--that'll reach the -junction four minutes before the express? I know it, sir. I was -stationed at change into the Ditchford local train--that'll reach the -junction four minutes before the express? I know it, sir. I was -stationed at that part of the system." - -To glance at the clock, and to perceive that he had time enough to drive -to the Nethershire terminus, and to transfer a coin to the unconscious -but not reluctant hand of the official of the liberal views, occupied -Harold but a moment. At four-fifty-five he was in the Nethershire train -on his way to Mindon. - -He had not waited to verify the man's statement as to the trains, but -in the railway carriage he did so, and he found that the beautiful -complications of the two systems were at least susceptible of the -interpretation put on them. - -For the next two hours Harold felt that he could devote himself, if -he had the mind, to the problem of the ring that had been so suddenly -suggested to him. - -It did not require him to spend more than the merest fraction of this -time in order to convince him that the impulse upon which he had acted, -was one that he would have been a fool to repress. - -The ring which he had put on her finger, and which she had worn -since, and would most certainly wear--he had imagined her doing so--at -Abbeylands, could not fail to be recognized both by his father and his -sister. It had belonged to his mother, and it was unique. It had flashed -upon him suddenly that, unless he was content that his father and sister -should learn that he had given her that ring, it would be necessary for -him to prevent Beatrice from wearing it even for an hour at Abbeylands. - -Apart altogether from the question of the circumstances under which he -had put the ring upon her finger--circumstances which he had good reason -for desiring to conceal--the fact that he had given to her the object -which he valued most highly in the world, and which his father and -sister knew that he so valued, would suggest to both these persons as -much as would ruin him. - -His father would, he knew, be extremely glad to discover some pretext to -cut off the last penny of his allowance; and assuredly he would regard -this gift of the ring as an ample pretext for adopting such a course of -action. Indeed, Lord Fotheringay had never been at a loss for a pretext -for reducing his son's allowance; and now that he was posing--with -but indifferent success, as Harold had learned from Mrs. Lampson's -postscript--as a Reformed Sinner, he would, his son knew, think that, -in cutting off his son's allowance, he was only acting consistently with -the traditions of Reformed Sinners. - -The Reformed Sinner is usually a sinner whose capacity to enjoy the -pleasures of sin has become dulled, and thus he is intolerant of the -sins of others, and particularly intolerant of the capacity of others to -enjoy sin. This is why he reduces the allowances of his children. Like -the man who advances to the position of teetotal lecturer, after having -served for some time as the teetotal lecturer's Example, he knows all -about the evil which he means to combat--to be more exact, which he -means his children to combat. - -All this Harold knew perfectly well. He knew that the only difference -that the reform of his father would make to him, was that, while his -father had formerly cut down his allowance with a courteously worded -apology, he would now stop it altogether without an apology. - -How could he have failed to remember, when he put that ring upon her -finger, how great were the chances that it would be seen there by his -father or his sister? - -This was the question which occupied his thoughts for the first hour -of his journey. He lay back looking out on the gray October landscapes -through which the train rushed--the wood glowing in crimson and brown -like a mighty smouldering furnace--the groups of children picking -blackberries on the embankments--the canal boat moving slowly along the -gray waterway--and he asked himself how he had been such a fool as to -overlook the likelihood of the ring being seen on her hand by his father -or his sister. - -The truth was, that he had at that time not considered the possibility -of her going to Abbey-lands. He knew that Mrs. Lampson intended inviting -her; but he felt certain that, when she heard that he was not going, she -would not accept the invitation. She would not have accepted it, if it -had not suddenly occurred to him that the fact of her going while he -remained in town would be to his advantage. - -Would he be in time to prevent the disaster which he foresaw would occur -if she appeared in the drawing-room at Abbeylands wearing the ring? - -He looked at his watch. The train was three minutes late in reaching -several of the stations on its route, and it was delayed for another -three minutes when there was only a single line of rails. How would -it be possible for the train to make up so great a loss during the -remainder of the journey? - -He reminded the guard at one of many intolerable stoppages, that the -train was long behind its time. The guard could not agree with him, it -was only about seven minutes late, he assured Harold. - -On it went, and it seemed as if the engine-driver had a clearer sense of -his responsibilities than the guard, for during the next thirty miles, -he managed to save over two minutes. All this Harold noticed with more -interest than he had ever taken in the details of any railway journey. - -When at last Mindon was reached, and he left the train to change into -the one which was to carry him on to the Junction, he found that this -train had not yet come up. Here was another point to be considered. -Would the train come up in time? - -He was not left for long in suspense. The long row of lighted carriages -ran up to the platform before he had been waiting for two minutes, and -in another two minutes the train was steaming away with him. - -He looked at his watch once more, and then he was able to give himself -a rest, for he saw that unless some accident were to happen, he would be -at Mowern Junction before the train should leave for Abbeylands Station -on the branch line. - -In running into the Junction, the train went past the platform of the -branch line. A number of carriages were there, and at the side glass of -one compartment he saw the profile of Beatrice. - -The little cry that she gave, when he opened the door of the compartment -and spoke her name, had something of terror as well as delight in it. - -"Harold! How on earth--" she began. - -"I have a rather important message for you," he said. "Will you take a -turn with me on the platform? There is plenty of time. The train does -not start for six minutes." - -She was out of the carriage in a moment. "Mr. Wynne has a message for -me--it is probably from Mrs. Lampson," she said to her maid, who was in -the same compartment. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIII.--ON THE SON OF APHRODITE. - -|WHAT can be the matter? How did you manage to come here? You must have -travelled by the same train as we came by. Oh, Harold, my husband, I am -so glad to see you. You have changed your mind--you are coming on with -me? Oh, I see it all now. You meant all along to give me this delightful -surprise." - -The words came from her in a torrent as she put her hand on his arm--he -could feel the ring on her finger. - -"No, no," said he; "everything remains as it was this morning. I only -wish that I were going on with you. Providentially something occurred to -me when I was sitting alone after lunch. That is why I came. I managed -to catch a train that brought me here just now--the train I was in ran -past this platform and I saw your face." - -"What can have occurred to you that you could not tell me in a letter?" -she asked, her face still bearing the look of glad surprise that had -come to it when she had heard the sound of his voice. - -"We shall have to go into a waiting-room, or--better still--an empty -carriage," said he. "I see several men whom I know, and--worse luck! -women--they are on their way to Abbeylands, and if they saw us together -in this confidential way, they would never cease chattering when they -arrived. We shall get into a compartment--there is one that still -remains unlighted, it will be the best for our purpose; there will be no -chance of a prying face appearing at the window." - -"Shall we have time?" she asked. - -"Plenty of time. By getting into the carriage you will run no chance of -being left behind--the worst that can happen is that I may be carried on -with you." - -"The worst? Oh, that is the best--the best." They had strolled to the -end of the platform where it was dimly lighted, and in an instant, -apparently unobserved by anyone, they had got into an unlighted -compartment at the rear of the train, and Harold shut the door -quietly, so as not to attract the attention of the three or four men in -knickerbockers who were stretching their legs on the platform until the -train was ready to start. - -"We are fortunate," said he. "Those men outside will be your -fellow-guests for the week. None of them will think of glancing into -a dark carriage; but if one of them does so, he will be nothing the -wiser." - -"And now--and now," she cried. - -"And now, my dearest, you remember the ring that I put upon your -finger?" - -"This ring? Do you think it likely that I have forgotten it already?" -she whispered. - -"No, no, dearest; it was I who forgot it," he said. "It was I who forgot -that my father and my sister are perfectly certain to recognize that -ring if you wear it at Abbeylands: they will be certain to see it on -your linger, and they will question you as to how it came into your -possession." - -"Of course they will," she said, after a pause. "You told me that it was -a ring that belonged to your mother. There can only be one such ring in -the world. Oh, they could not fail to recognize it. The little chubby -wicked Eros surrounded by the rubies--I have looked at the design every -day--every night--sometimes the firelight gleaming upon the circle of -rubies has made them seem to me a band of blood. Was that the idea of -the artist who made the design, I wonder--a circle of blood with the god -Eros in the centre." - -She had taken off her glove, and had laid the hand with the ring in one -of his hands. - -He had never felt her hand so soft and warm before. His hand became -hot through holding hers. His heart was beating as it had never beaten -before. - -The force of his grasp pressed the sharply cut cameo into his flesh. The -image of that wicked little god, the son of Aphrodite, was stamped upon -him. It seemed as if some of his blood would mingle with the blood that -sparkled and beat within the heart of the rubies. - -He had forgotten the object of his mission to her. Still holding her -hand with the ring, he put his arm under the sealskin coat that reached -to her feet, and held her close to him while he kissed her as he had -never before kissed her. - -Suddenly he seemed to recollect why he was with her. He had not hastened -down from London for the sake of the kiss. - -"My beloved, my beloved!" he murmured--each word sounded like a sob--"I -should like to remain with you for ever." - -She did not say a word. She did not need to say a word. He could feel -the tumult of her heart, and she knew it. - -"For God's sake, Beatrice, let me speak to you," he said. - -It was a strange entreaty. His arm was about her, his hand was holding -one of hers, she was simply passive by his side; and yet he implored of -her to let him speak to her. - -It was some moments before she could laugh, however; which was also -strange, for the humour of the matter which called for that laugh, was -surely capable of being appreciated by her immediately. - -She gave a laugh and then a sigh. - -The carriage was dark, but a stray gleam of light from a side platform -now and again came upon her face, and her features were brought into -relief with the clearness and the whiteness of a lily in a jungle. - -As she gave that laugh--or was it a sigh?--he started, perceiving that -the expression of her features was precisely that which the artist in -the antique had imparted to the features of the little chrysoprase Eros -in the centre of that blood-red circle of the ring. - -"Why do you laugh, Beatrice?8 said he. - -"Did I laugh, Harold?" said she. "No--no--I think--yes, I think it was a -sigh--or was it you who sighed, my love?" - -"God knows," said he. "Oh, the ring--the ring!" - -"It feels like a band of burning metal," she said. - -"It is almost a pain for me to wear it. Have you not heard of the -curious charms possessed by rings, Harold--the strange spells which they -carry with them? The ring is a mystery--a mystic symbol. It means what -has neither beginning nor ending--it means perfection--completeness--it -means love--love's completeness." - -"That is what your ring must mean to us, my beloved," said he. "Whether -you take it from your finger or let it remain there, it will still mean -the completeness of such love as is ours." - -"And I am to take it off, Harold?" - -"Only so long as you stay at Abbeylands, Beatrice. What does it matter -for one week? You will see, dearest, how my plans--my hopes--must -certainly he destroyed if that ring is seen on your finger by my father -or my sister. It is not for the sake of my plans only that I wish you to -refrain from wearing it for a week; it is for your sake as well." - -"Would they fancy that I had stolen it, dear?" she asked, looking up to -his face with a smile. - -"They might fancy worse things than that, Beatrice," said he. "Do -not ask me. You may be sure that I am advising you aright--that the -consequences of that ring being recognized on your finger would be more -serious than you could understand." - -"Did I not say something to you a few days ago about the completeness of -my trust in you, Harold?" she whispered. "Well, the ring is the symbol -of this completeness also. I trust you implicitly in everything. I have -given myself up to you. I will do whatever you may tell me. I will not -take the ring off until I reach Abbeylands, but I shall take it off -then, and only replace it on my finger every night." - -"My darling, my darling! Such love as you have given to me is God's best -gift to the world." - -He had committed himself to an opinion practically to the same effect -upon more than one previous occasion. - -And now, as then, the expression of that opinion was followed by a long -silence, as their faces came together. - -"Beatrice," he said, in a tremulous voice. - -"Harold." - -"I shall go on with you to Abbeylands. Come what may, we shall not now -be separated." - -But they were separated that very instant. The carriage was flooded with -light--the chastened flood that comes from an oil lamp inserted in a -hollow in the roof--and they were no longer in each others arms. They -heard the sound of the porter's feet on the roof of the next carriage. - -"It is so good of you to come," said she. - -There was now perhaps three inches of a space separating them. - -"Good?" said he. "I'm afraid that's not the word. We shall be under one -roof." - -"Yes," she said slowly, "under one roof." - -"Tickets for Ashmead," intoned a voice at the carriage window. - -"We are for Abbeylands Station," said Harold. - -"Abb'l'ns," said the guard. "Why, sir, you know the Abb'l'ns train -started six minutes ago." - - - - -CHAPTER XLIV.--ON THE SHORTCOMINGS OF A SYSTEM. - -|HAROLD was out of the compartment in a moment. Did the guard mean that -the train had actually left for Abbeylands? It had left six minutes -before, the guard explained, and the station-master added his guarantee -to the statement. - -Harold looked around--from platform to platform--as if he fancied that -there was a conspiracy between the officials to conceal the train. - -How could the train leave without taking all its carriages with it? - -It did nothing of the kind, the station-master said, firmly but -respectfully. - -The guard went on with his business of cutting neat triangles out of -the tickets of the passengers in the carriages that were alongside the -platform--passengers bound for Ashmead. - -"But I--we--my--my wife and I got into one of the carriages of the -Abbeylands train," said Harold, becoming indignant, after the fashion -of his countrymen, when they have made a mistake either on a home or -foreign railway. "What sort of management is it that allows one -portion of a train to go in one direction and another part in another -direction?" - -"It's our system, sir," said the official. "You see, sir, there're never -many passengers for either the Abbeyl'n's"--being a station-master he -did not do an unreasonable amount of clipping in regard to the -names--"or the Ashm'd branch, so the Staplehurst train is divided--only -we don't light the lamps in the Ashm'd portion until we're ready to -start it. Did you get into a carriage that had a lamp, sir?" - -"I've seen some bungling at railway stations before now," said Harold, -"but bang me if I ever met the equal of this." - -"This isn't properly speaking a station, sir, it's a junction," said -the official, mildly, but with the force of a man who has said the last -word. - -"That simply means that greater bungling may be found at a junction than -at a station," said Harold. "Is it not customary to give some notice -of the departure of a train at a junction as well as a station, my good -man?" - -The official became reasonably irritated at being called a good man. - -"The train left for Abbeyl'n's according to reg'lation, sir," said he. -"If you got into a compartment that had no lamp----" - -"Oh, I've no time for trifling," said Harold. "When does the next train -leave for Abbey-lands?" - -"At eight-sixteen in the morning," said the official. - -"Great heavens! You mean to say that there's no train to-night?" - -"You see, if a carriage isn't lighted, sir, we----" - -The man perceived the weakness of Harold's case--from the standpoint -of a railway official--and seemed determined not to lose sight of it. -"Contributory negligence" he knew to be the most valuable phrase that a -railway official could have at hand upon any occasion. - -"And how do you expect us to go on to Abbeylands to-night?" asked -Harold. - -"There's a very respectable hotel a mile from the junction, sir," said -the man. "Ruins of the Priory, sir--dates back to King John, page 84 -_Tourist's Guide to Brackenshire_." - -"Oh," said Harold, "this is quite preposterous." He went to where -Beatrice was seated watching, with only a moderate amount of interest, -the departure of five passengers for Ashmead. - -"Well, dear?" said she, as Harold came up. - -"For straightforward, pig-headed stupidity I'll back a railway company -against any institution in the world," said he. "The last train has -left for Abbeylands. Did you ever know of such stupidity? And yet the -shareholders look for six per cent, out of such a system." - -"Perhaps," said she timidly--"perhaps we were in some degree to blame." - -He laughed. It was so like a woman to suggest the possibility of some -blame attaching to the passengers when a railway company could be -indicted. To the average man such an idea is as absurd as beginning to -argue with a person at whom one is at liberty to swear. - -"It seems that there is a sort of hotel a mile away," said he. "We -cannot be starved, at any rate." - -"And I--you--we shall have to stay there?" said she. - -He gave a sort of shrug--an Englishman's shrug--about as like the real -thing as an Englishman's bow, or a Chinaman's cheer. - -"What can we do?" said he. "When a railway company such as this--oh, -come along, Beatrice. I am hungry--hungry--hungry!" - -He caught her by the arm. - -"Yes, Harold--husband," said she. - -He started. - -"Husband! Husband!" he said. "I never thought of that. Oh, my -beloved--my beloved!" - -He stood irresolute for a moment. - -Then he gave a curious laugh, and she felt his hand tighten upon her arm -for a moment. - -"Yes," he whispered. "You heard the words that--that man said while our -hands were together? 'Whom God hath joined'--God--that is Love. Love -is the bond that binds us together. Every union founded on Love is -sacred--and none other is sacred--in the sight of heaven." - -"And you do not doubt my love," she said. - -"Doubt it? oh, my Beatrice, I never knew what it was before now." They -left the station together, after he had written and despatched in her -name a telegram to her maid, directing her to explain to Mrs. Lampson -that her mistress had unfortunately missed the train, but meant to go by -the first one in the morning. - -By chance a conveyance was found outside, and in it they drove to the -Priory Hotel which, they were amazed to find, promised comfort as well -as picturesqueness. - -It was a long ivy-covered house, and bore every token of being a portion -of the ancient Priory among the ruins of which it was standing. Great -elms were in front of the house, and on one side there were apple trees, -and at the other there was a garden reaching almost to where a ruined -arch was held together by its own ivy. - -As they were in the act of entering the porch, a ray of moonlight -gleamed upon the ruins, and showed the trimmed grass plots and neat -gravel walks among the cloisters. - -Harold pointed out the picturesque effect to Beatrice, and they stood -for some moments before entering the house. - -The old waiter, whose moderately white shirt front constituted a very -distinctive element of the hall with its polished panels of old oak, did -not bustle forward when he saw them admiring the ruins. - -"Upon my word," said Harold, entering, "this is a place worth seeing. -That touch of moonlight was very effective." - -"Yes, sir," said the waiter; "I'm glad you're pleased with it. We try to -do our best in this way for our patrons. Mrs. Mark will be glad to know -that you thought highly of our moonlight, sir." - -The man was only a waiter, but he was as solemn as a butler, as he -opened the door of a room that seemed ready to do duty as a coffee-room. -It had a low groined ceiling, and long narrow windows. - -An elderly maid was lighting candles in sconces round the walls. - -"Really," said Harold, "we may be glad that the bungling at the junction -brought us here." - -"Yes, sir," said the man with waiter-like acquiescence; "they do bungle -things sometimes at that junction." - -"We were on our way to Abbeylands," said Harold, "but those idiots on -the platform allowed us to get into the wrong carriages--the carriages -that were going to Ashmead. We shall stay here for the night. The -station-master recommended us to go here, and I'm much obliged to him. -It's the only sensible--" - -"Yes, sir: he's a brother to Mrs. Mark--Mrs. Mark is our proprietor," -said the waiter. - -"_Mrs_. Mark," said Harold. - -"Yes, sir: she's our proprietor." - -Harold thought that, perhaps, when the owner of an hotel was a woman, -she might reasonably be called the proprietor. - -"Oh, well, perhaps a maid might show my--my wife to a room, while I see -what we can get for dinner--supper, I suppose we should call it." - -The middle-aged woman who was lighting the candles came forward smiling, -as she adroitly extinguished the wax taper by the application of her -finger and thumb. With her Beatrice disappeared. - -Harold quite expected that he was about to come upon the weak element -in the management of this picturesque inn. But when he found that a cold -pheasant as well as some hot fish was available for supper, he admitted -that the place was perfect. There was no wine card, but the old waiter -promised a Champagne for which, he said, Mr. Lampson, of Abbeylands, had -once made an offer. - -"That will do for us very well," said Harold. "Mr. Lampson would -not make an offer for anything--wine least of all--of which he was -uncertain." - -The waiter went off in the leisurely style that was only consistent with -the management of an establishment that dated back to King John; and in -a few minutes Beatrice appeared, having laid aside her sealskin coat, -and her hat. - -How exquisite she seemed as she stood for an instant in the subdued -light at the door! - -And she was his. - - - - -CHAPTER XLV.--ON MOONLIGHT AND MORALS. - -|SHE was his. - -He felt the joy of it as she stood at the door in her beautifully -fitting travelling dress. - -The thought sent an exultant glow through his veins, as he looked at her -from where he was standing at the hearth. (There was no "cosy corner" -abomination.) - -She was his. - -He went forward to meet her, and put out both his hands to her. - -She placed a hand in each of his. - -"How delightfully warm you are," she said. "You were standing at the -fire." - -"Yes," he said. "I was at the fire; in addition, I was also thinking -that you are mine." - -"Altogether yours now," she said looking at him with that trustful smile -which should have sent him down on his knees before her, but which did -not do more than cause his eyes to look at her throat instead of gazing -straight into her eyes. - -They seated themselves on one of the old window-seats, and talked face -to face, listlessly watching the old waiter lay a white cloth on a -portion of the black oak table. - -When they had eaten their fish and pheasant--Harold wondered if the -latter had come from the Abbeylands' preserves, and if Archie Brown had -shot it--they returned to the window-seat, and there they remained for -an hour. - -He had thrown all reserve to the winds. He had thrown all forethought to -the winds. He had thrown all fear of God and man to the winds. - -She was his. - -The old waiter re-entered the room and laid on the table a flat bedroom -candlestick with a box of matches. - -"Can I get you anything before I go to bed, sir?" he inquired. - -"I require nothing, thank you," said Harold. - -"Very good, sir," said the waiter. "The candles in the sconces will burn -for another hour. If that will not be long enough--" - -"It will be quite long enough. You have made us extremely comfortable, -and I wish you goodnight," said Harold. - -"Good-night, sir. Good-night, madam." - -This model servitor disappeared. They heard the sound of his shoes upon -the stairs. - -"At last--at last!" whispered Harold, as he put an arm on the deep -embrasure of the window behind her. - -She let her shapely head fall back until it rested on his shoulder. Then -she looked up to his face. - -"Who could have thought it?" she cried. "Who could have predicted that -evening when I stood on the cliffs and sent my voice out in that wild -way across the lough, that we should be sitting here to-night?" - -"I knew it when I got down to the boat and drew your hands into mine by -that fishing-line," said he. "When the moon showed me your face, I knew -that I had seen the face for which I had been searching all my life. -I had caught glimpses of that face many times in my life. I remember -seeing it for a moment when a great musician was performing an -incomparable work--a work the pure beauty of which made all who listened -to it weep. I can hear that music now when I look upon your face. It -conveys to me all that was conveyed to me by the music. I saw it -again when, one exquisite dawn, I went into a garden while the dew was -glistening over everything. There came to me the faint scent of violets. -I thought that nothing could be lovelier; but in another moment, the -glorious perfume of roses came upon me like a torrent. The odour of the -roses and the scent of the violets mingled, and before my eyes floated -your face. When the moonlight showed me your face on that night beside -the Irish lough I felt myself wondering if it would vanish." - -"It has come to stay," she whispered, in a way that gave the sweetest -significance to the phrase that has become vulgarized. - -"It came to stay with me for ever," he said. "I knew it, and I felt -myself saying, 'Here by God's grace is the one maid for me.'" - -He did not falter as he looked down upon her face--he said the words -"God's grace" without the least hesitancy. - -The moonlight that had been glistening on the ivy of the broken arches -of the ancient Priory, was now shining through the diamond panes of -the window at which they were sitting. As her head lay back it was -illuminated by the moon. Her hair seemed delicate threads of spun glass -through which the light was shining. - -One of the candles flared up for a moment in its socket, then dwindled -away to a single spark and then expired. - -"You remember?" she whispered. - -"The seal-cave," he said. "I have often wondered how I dared to tell you -that I loved you." - -"But you told me the truth." - -"The truth. No, no; I did not love you then as I regard loving now. Oh, -my Beatrice, you have taught me what 'tis to love. There is nothing in -the world but love, it is life--it is life!" - -"And there are none in the world who love as you and I do." - -His face shut out the moonlight from hers. There was a long silence -before she said, "It was only when you had parted from me every day that -I knew what you were to me, Harold. Ah, those bitter moments! Those sad -Good-byes--sad Good-nights out of the moonlight from hers. There was a -long silence before she said, "It was only when you had parted from me -every day that I knew what you were to me, Harold. Ah, those bitter -moments! Those sad Good-byes--sad Good-nights!" - -"They are over, they are over!" he cried. The lover's triumph rang -through his words. "They are over. We have come to the night when no -more Good-nights shall be spoken. What do I say? No more Good-nights? -You know what a poet's heart sang--a poet over whose head the waters of -passion had closed? I know the song that came from his heart--beloved, -the pulses of his heart beat in every line:"= - - -```"'Good-night! ah, no, the hour is ill - -'```That severs those it should unite: - -'``Let us remain together still, - -````Then it will be good night.= - - -```"' How can I call the lone night good, - -`````Though thy sweet wishes wing its flight? - -```Be it not said--thought--understood; - -````Then it will be good night.= - - -```"'To hearts that near each other move - -'```From evening close to morning light, - -```The night is good because, oh, Love, - -````They never say Good-night.'"= - - -His whispering of the last lines was very tremulous. Her eyes were -closed and her lips were parted with the passing of a sigh--a sigh that -had something of a sob about it. Then both her arms were flung round his -neck, and he felt her face against his. Then.... he was alone. - -How had she gone? - -Whither had she gone? - -How long had he been alone? - -He got upon his feet, and looked in a dazed way around the room. - -Had it all been a dream? Was it only in fancy that she had been in his -arms? Had he been repeating Shelley's poem in the hearing of no one? - -He opened a glass door by which access was had to the grounds of the old -Priory, and stood, surpliced by the moonlight, beside the ruined arch -where an oriel window had once been. He turned and looked at the house. -It was black against the clear sky that overflowed with light, but one -window above the room where he had been sitting was illuminated. - -It had no drapery--he could see through it half way into the room -beyond. - -Just above where a silver sconce with three lighted candles hung from -the wall, he could see that the black panel bore in high relief a carved -Head of the Virgin, surrounded with lilies. - -He kept his eyes fixed upon that carving until--until.... - -There came before his eyes in that room the Temptation of Saint Anthony. - -His eyes became dim looking at her loveliness, shining with dazzling -whiteness beneath the light of the candles. - -He put his hands before his eyes and staggered to the door through which -he had passed. There he stood, his breath coming in sobs, with his hand -on the handle of the door. - -There was not a sound in the night. Heaven and earth were breathlessly -watching the struggle. - -It was the struggle between Heaven and Hell for a human soul. - -The man's fingers fell from the handle of the door. He clasped his hands -across the ivy of the wall and bowed his head upon them. - -Only for a few moments, however. Then, with a cry of agony, he started -up, and with his clasped hands over his eyes, fled--madly--blindly--away -from the house. - -Before he had gone far, he tripped and fell over a stone--he only fell -upon his knees, but his hands were clutching at the ground. - -When he recovered himself, he found that he was on his knees at the foot -of an ancient prostrate Cross. - -He stared at it, and some time had passed before there came from his -parched lips the cry, "Christ have mercy upon me!" - -He bowed his head to the Cross, and his lips touched the cold, damp -stone. - -This was not the kiss to which he had been looking forward. - -He sprang to his feet and fled into the distance. - -She was saved! - -And he--he had saved his soul alive! - - - - -CHAPTER XLVI.--ON A BED OF LOGS. - - -|ONWARD he fled, he knew not whither; he only knew that he was flying -for the safety of his soul. - -He passed far beyond the limits of the Priory grounds, but he did not -reach the high road. He crossed a meadow and came upon a trout stream. -He walked beside it for an hour. At the end of that time there was no -moonlight to glitter upon its surface. Clouds had come over the sky and -drops of rain were beginning to fall. - -He crossed the stream by a little bridge, and reached the border of a -wood. It was now long past midnight. He had been walking for two hours, -but he had no consciousness of weariness. It was not until the rain was -streaming off his hair that he recollected that he had no hat. But on -still he went through the darkness and the rain, as though he were being -pursued, and that every step he took was a step toward safety. - -He came upon a track that seemed to lead through the wood, and upon this -track he went for several miles. The ground was soft, and at some places -the rain had turned it into a morass. The autumn leaves lay in drifts, -sodden and rotting. Into more than one of these he stumbled, and when he -got upon his feet again, the damp leaves and the mire were clinging to -him. - -For three more hours he went on by the winding track through the wood. -In the darkness he strayed from it frequently, but invariably found it -again and struggled on, until he had passed right through the wood and -reached a high road that ran beside it. - -As though he had been all the night wandering in search for this road, -so soon as he saw it he cried, "Thank God, thank God!" - -But something else may have been in his mind beyond the satisfaction of -coming upon the road. - -At the border of the wood where the track broadened out, there was a -woodcutter's rough shed. It was piled up with logs of various sizes, and -with trimmed boughs awaiting the carts to come along the road to carry -them away. He entered the shed, and, overpowered with weariness, sank -down upon a heap of boughs; his head found a resting place in a forked -branch and in a moment he was sound asleep. - -His head was resting upon the damp bark of the trimmed branch, when it -might have been close to that whiteness which he had seen through the -window. - -True; but his soul was saved. - -He awoke, hearing the sound of voices around him. - -The cold light of a gray, damp day was struggling with the light that -came from a fire of faggots just outside, and the shed was filled with -the smoke of the burning wood. The sound of the crackling of the small -branches came to his ears with the sound of the voices. - -He raised his head, and looked around him in a dazed way. He did not -realize for some time the strange position in which he found himself. -Suddenly he seemed to recall all that had occurred, and once more he -said, "Thank God, thank God!" - -Three men were standing in the shed before him. Two of them held -bill-hooks in a responsible way; the third had the truncheon of a -constable. He also wore the helmet of a constable. - -The men with the bill-hooks seemed preparing to repel a charge. They -stood shoulder to shoulder with their implements breast high. - -The man with the truncheon seemed willing to trust a great deal to them, -whether in regard to attack or defence. - -"Well, you're awake, my gentleman," said the man with the truncheon. - -The speech seemed a poor enough accompaniment to such a show of -strength, aggressive or defensive, as was the result of the muster in -the shed. - -"Yes, I believe I'm awake," said Harold. "Is the morning far advanced?" - -"That's as may be," said the truncheon-holder, shrewdly, and after a -pause of considerable duration. - -"You're not the man to compromise yourself by a hasty statement," said -Harold. - -"No," said the man, after another pause. - -"May I ask what is the meaning of this rather imposing demonstration?" -said Harold. - -"Ay, you may, maybe," replied the man. "But it's my business to tell -you that--" here he paused and inflated his lungs and person -generally-- "that all you say now will be used as evidence against -you." - -"That's very official," said Harold. "Does it mean that you're a -constable?" - -"That it do; and that you're in my charge now. Close up, bill-hooks, and -stand firm," the man added to his companions. - -"Don't trumle for we," said one of the billhook-holders. - -"You see there's no use broadening vi'lent-like," said the -truncheon-holder. - -"That's clear enough," said Harold. "Would it be imprudent for me to -inquire what's the charge against me?" - -"You know," said the policeman. - -"Come, my man," said Harold; "I'm not disposed to stand this farce any -longer. Can't you see that I'm no vagrant--that I haven't any of your -logs concealed about me. What part of the country is this? Where's the -nearest telegraph office?" - -"No matter what's the part," said the constable; "I've arrested you -before witnesses of full age, and I've cautioned you according to the -Ack o' Parliament." - -"And the charge?" - -"The charge is the murder." - -"Murder--what murder?" - -"You know--the murder of the Right Honourable Lord Fotheringay." - -"What!" shouted Harold. "Lord--oh, you're mad! Lord Fotheringay is my -father, and he's staying at Abbeylands. What do you mean, you idiot, by -coming to me with such a story?" The policeman winked in by no means a -subtle way at the two men with the bill-hooks; he then looked at Harold -from head to foot, and gave a guffaw. - -"The son of his lordship--the murdered man--you heard that, friends, -after I gave the caution according to the Ack o' Parliament?" he said. - -"Ay, ay, we heard--leastways to that effeck," replied one of the men. - -"Then down it goes again him," said the constable. "He's a -gentleman-Jack tramp--and that's the worst sort--without hat or head -gear, and down it goes that he said he was his lordship's son." - -"For God's sake tell me what you mean by talking of the murder of Lord -Fotheringay," said Harold. "There can be no truth in what you said. Oh, -why do I wait here talking to this idiot?" He took a few steps toward one -end of the shed. The men raised their bill-hooks, and the constable made -an aggressive demonstration with his truncheon. - -Against Stupidity the gods fight in vain, but now and again a man with -good muscles can prevail against it. Harold simply dealt a kick upon -the heavy handle of the bill-hook nearest to him, and it swung round -and caught in the stomach the second man, who immediately dropped his -implement. He needed both hands to press against his injured person. - -The constable ran to the other end of the shed and blew his whistle. - -Harold went out in the opposite direction and got upon the high road; -but before he had quite made up his mind which way to go, he heard the -clatter of a horse galloping. He saw that a mounted constable was coming -up, and he also noticed with a certain amount of interest, that he was -drawing a revolver. - -Harold stood in the centre of the road and held up his hand. - -One of the few occasions when a man of well developed muscles, if he is -wise, thinks himself no better than the gods, is when Stupidity is in -the act of drawing a revolver. - -"Are you the sergeant of constabulary?" Harold inquired, when the man -had reined in. He still kept his revolver handy. - -"Yes, I'm the sergeant of constabulary. Who are you, and what are you -doing here?" said the man. - -"He's the gentleman-Jack tramp that the lads found asleep in the shed, -sergeant," said the constable, who had hurried forward with the naked -truncheon. "The lads came on him hiding here, when they were setting -about their day's work. They ran for me, and that's why I sent for you. -I've arrested him and cautioned him. He was nigh clearing off just now, -but I never took an eye off him. Is there a reward yet, sergeant?" - -"Officer," said Harold. "I am Lord Fotheringay's son. For God's -sake tell me if what this man says is true--is Lord Fotheringay -dead--murdered?" - -"He's dead. You seem to know a lot about it, my gentleman," said the -sergeant. "You're charged with his murder. If you make any attempt at -resistance, I'll shoot you down like a dog." - -The man had now his revolver is his right hand. Harold looked first at -him, and then at the foolish man with the truncheon. He was amazed. What -could the men mean? How was it that they did not touch their helmets to -him? He had never yet been addressed by a policeman or a railway porter -without such a token of respect. What was the meaning of the change? - -This was really his first thought. - -His mind was not in a condition to do more than speculate upon this -point. It was not capable of grasping the horrible thing suggested by -the men. - -He stood there in the middle of the road, dazed and speechless. It was -not until he had casually looked down and had seen the condition of his -feet and legs and clothes that, passing from the amazed thought of -the insolence of the constables, into the amazement produced by his -raggedness--he was apparently covered with mire from head to foot--the -reason of his treatment flashed upon him; and in another instant every -thought had left him except the thought that his father was dead. His -head fell forward on his chest. He felt his limbs give way under him. -He staggered to the low hank at the side of the road and managed to seat -himself. He supported his head on his hands, his elbows resting on his -knees. - -There he remained, the four men watching him; for the interest which -attaches to a distinguished criminal in the eyes of ignorant rustics, is -almost as great as that which he excites among the leaders of society, -who scrutinize him in the dock through opera glasses, and eat _pâté de -foie gras_ sandwiches beside the judge. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVII.--ON THE PLEASURES OF MEMORY. - -|SOME minutes had passed before Harold had sufficiently recovered to be -able to get upon his feet. He could now account for everything that -had happened. His father must have been found dead under suspicious -circumstances the previous day, and information had been conveyed to the -county constabulary. The instinct of the constabulary being to connect -all crime with tramps, and his own appearance, after his night of -wandering, as well as the conditions under which he had been found, -suggesting the tramp, he had naturally been arrested. - -He knew that he could only suffer some inconvenience for an hour or so. -But what would be the sufferings of Beatrice? - -"The circumstances under which I am found are suspicious enough to -justify my arrest," he said to the mounted man. "I am Lord Fotheringay's -son." - -"Gammon! but it'll be took down," said the constable with the truncheon. - -"Hold your tongue, you fool!" cried the sergeant to his subordinate. - -"I can, of course, account for every movement of mine, yesterday and the -day before," said Harold. "What hour is the crime supposed to have taken -place? It must have been after four o'clock, or I should have received a -telegram from my sister, Mrs. Lampson. I left London shortly before five -last evening." - -"If you can prove that, you're all right," said the sergeant. "But -you'll have to give us your right name." - -"You'll find it on the inside of my watch," said Harold. - -He slipped the watch from the swivel clasp and handed it to the -sergeant. - -"You're a fool!" said the sergeant, looking at the hack of the watch. -"This is a watch that belonged to the murdered man. It has a crown over -a crest, and arms with supporters." - -"Of course," said Harold. "I forgot that it was my father's watch -before he gave it to me." The sergeant smiled. The constable and the two -bill-hook men guffawed. - -"Give me the watch," said Harold. - -The sergeant slipped it into his own pocket. - -"You've put a rope round your neck this minute," said he. "Handcuffs, -Jonas." - -The constable opened the small leathern pouch on his belt. Harold's -hands instinctively clenched. The sergeant once more whipped his -revolver out of its case. - -"It has never occurred before this minute," said the constable. - -"What do you mean? Where's the handcuffs?" cried the sergeant. - -"Never before," said the constable, "I took them out to clean them -with sandpaper, sergeant--emery and oil's recommended, but give me -sandpaper--not too fine but just fine enough. Is there any man in the -county that can show as bright a pair of handcuffs as myself, sergeant? -You know." - -"Show them now," said the sergeant. - -"You'll have to come to the house with me, for there they be to be," -replied the constable. "Ay, but I've my truncheon." - -"Which way am I to go with you?" said Harold. "You don't think that I'm -such a fool as to make the attempt to resist you? I can't remain here -all day. Every moment is precious." - -"You'll be off soon enough, my good man," said the sergeant. "Keep -alongside my horse, and if you try any game on with me, I'll be equal to -you." He wheeled his horse and walked it in the direction whence he had -come. Harold kept up with it, thinking his thoughts. The man with the -truncheon and the two men who had wielded the billhooks marched in file -beside him. Marching in file had something official about it. - -It was a strange procession that appeared on the shining wet road, -with the dripping autumn trees on each side, and the gray sodden clouds -crawling up in the distance. - -How was he to communicate with her? How was he to let Beatrice know that -she was to return to London immediately? - -That was the question which occupied all his thoughts as he walked -with bowed head along the road. The thought of the position which he -occupied--the thought of the tragic incident which had aroused the -vigilance of the constable--the desire to learn the details of the -terrible thing that had occurred--every thought was lost in that -question: - -"How am I to prevent her from going on to Abbeylands?" - -Was it possible that she might learn at the hotel early in the morning, -that Lord Fotheringay had been murdered? When the news of the murder had -spread round the country--and it seemed to have done so from the course -that the woodcutters had adopted on coming upon him asleep--it would -certainly be known at the hotel. If so, what would Beatrice do? - -Surely she would take the earliest train back to London. - -But if she did not hear anything of the matter, would she then remain at -the hotel awaiting his return? - -What would she think of him? What would she think of his desertion of -her at that supreme moment? - -Can a woman ever forgive such an act of desertion? Could Beatrice ever -forgive his turning away from her love? - -Was he beginning to regret that he had fled away from the loveliest -vision that had ever come before his eyes? - -Did Saint Anthony ever wish that he had had another chance? - -If for a single moment Harold Wynne had an unworthy thought, assuredly -it did not last longer than a single moment. - -"Whatever may happen now--whether she forgives me or forsakes me--thank -God--thank God!" - -This was what his heart was crying out all the time that he walked along -the road with bowed head. He felt that he had been strong enough to save -her--to save himself. - -The procession had scarcely passed over more than a quarter of a mile of -the road, when a vehicle appeared some distance ahead. - -"Steady," said the sergeant. "It's the Major in his trap. I sent a -mounted man for him. You'll be in trouble about the handcuffs, Jonas, my -man." - -"Maybe the murderer would keep his hands together to oblige us," -suggested the constable. - -"I'll not be a party to deception," said his superior. "Halt!" - -Harold looked up and saw a dog-cart just at hand. It was driven by a -middle-aged gentleman, and a groom was seated behind. Harold had an -impression that he had seen the driver previously, though he could -not remember when or where he had done so. He rather thought he was an -officer whom he had met at some place abroad. - -The dog-cart was pulled up, and the officials saluted in their own way, -as the gentleman gave the reins to his groom and dismounted. - -"An arrest, sir," said the sergeant. "The two woodcutters came upon him -hiding in their shed at dawn, and sent for the constable. Jonas, -very properly, sent for me, and I despatched a man for you, sir. When -arrested, he made up a cock-and-bull story, and a watch, supposed to be -his murdered lordship's, was found concealed about his person. It's now -in my possession." - -"Good," said the stranger. Then he subjected Harold to a close scrutiny. - -"I know now where I met you," said Harold. "You are Major Wilson, the -Chief Constable of the County, and you lunched with us at Abbeylands two -years ago." - -"What! Mr. Wynne!" cried the man. "What on earth can be the meaning of -this? Your poor father--" - -"That is what I want to learn," said Harold eagerly. "Is it more than a -report--that terrible thing?" - -"A report? He was found at six o'clock last evening by a keeper on the -outskirts of one of the preserves." - -"A bullet--an accident? he may have been out shooting," said Harold. - -"A knife--a dagger." - -Harold turned away. - -"Remain where you are, sergeant," said Major Wilson. "Let me have a word -with you, Mr. Wynne," he added to Harold. - -"Certainly," said Harold. His voice was shaky. "I wonder if you chance -to have a flask of brandy in your cart. You can understand that I'm not -quite--" - -"I'm sorry that I have no brandy," said Major Wilson. "Perhaps you -wouldn't mind sitting on the bank with me while you explain--if you -wish--I do not suggest that you should--I suppose the constables -cautioned you." - -"Amply," said Harold. "I find that I can stand. I don't suppose that any -blame attaches to them for arresting me. I am, I fear, very disreputable -looking. The fact is that I was stupid enough to miss the train from -Mowern junction last night, and I went to the Priory Hotel. I came out -when the night was fine, without my hat, and I---- had reasons of my own -for not wishing to return to the hotel. I got into the wood and wandered -for several hours along a track I found. I got drenched, and taking -shelter in the woodcutters' shed, I fell asleep. That is all I have to -say. I have not the least idea what part of the country this is: I must -have walked at least twenty miles through the night." - -"You are not a mile from the Priory Hotel," said Major Wilson. - -"That is impossible," cried Harold. "I walked pretty hard for five -hours." - -"Through the wood?" - -"I practically never left the track." - -"You walked close upon twenty miles, but you walked round the wood -instead of through it. That track goes pretty nearly round Garstone -Woods. Mr. Wynne, this is the most unfortunate occurrence I ever heard -of or saw in my life." - -"Pray do not fancy for a moment that, so far as I am concerned, I shall -be inconvenienced for long," said Harold. "It is a shocking thing for a -son to be suspected even for a moment of the murder of his own father; -but sometimes a curious combination of circumstances----" - -"Of course--of course, that is just it. Do not blame me, I beg of you. -Did you leave London yesterday?" - -"Yes, by the four-fifty-five train." - -"Have you a portion of your ticket to Abbeylands?" - -"I took a return ticket to Mowern. I gave one portion of it to the -collector, the return portion is in my pocket." - -He produced the half of his ticket. Major Wilson examined the date, and -took a memorandum of the number stamped upon it. - -"Did you speak to anyone at the junction on your arrival?" he then -inquired. - -"I'm afraid that I abused the station-master for allowing the train to -go to Abbeylands without me," said Harold. "That was at ten minutes past -seven o'clock. Oh, you need not fear for me. I made elaborate inquiries -from the railway officials in London between half past four and the hour -of the train's starting. I also spoke to the station-master at Mindon, -asking him if he was certain that the train would arrive at the junction -in time." Major Wilson's face brightened. Before it had been somewhat -overcast. - -"A telegram, as a matter of form, will be sufficient to clear up -everything," said Major Wilson. "Yes, everything except--wasn't that -midnight walk of yours a very odd thing, Mr. Wynne?" - -"Yes," said Harold, after a pause. "It was extremely odd. So odd that -I know that you will pardon my attempting to explain it--at least just -now. You will, I think, be satisfied if you have evidence that I was in -London yesterday afternoon. I am anxious to go to my sister without -delay. Surely some clue must be forthcoming as to the ruffian who did -the deed." - -"The only clue--if it could be termed a clue--is the sheath of the -dagger," replied Major Wilson. "It is the sheath of an ordinary belt -dagger, such as is commonly worn by the peasantry in Southern Italy and -Sicily. Lord Fotheringay lived a good deal abroad. Do you happen to know -if he became involved in any quarrel in Italy--if there was any reason -to think that his life had been threatened?" - -Harold shook his head. - -"My poor father returned from abroad a couple of months ago, and joined -Lady Innisfail's party in Ireland. I have only seen him once in -London since then. He must have been followed by some one who fancied -that--that--" - -"That he had been injured by your father?" - -"That is what I fear. But my father never confided his suspicions--if he -had any on this matter--to me." - -They had walked some little way up the road. They now returned slowly -and silently. - -A one-horse-fly appeared in the distance. When it came near, Harold -recognized it as the one in which he had driven with Beatrice from the -station to the hotel. - -"If you will allow me," said Harold to Major Wilson, "I will send to the -hotel for my overcoat and hat." - -"Do so by all means," said Major Wilson. "There is a decent little -inn some distance on the road, where you will be able to get a brush -down--you certainly need one. I'll give my sergeant instructions to send -some telegrams at the junction." - -"Perhaps you will kindly ask him to return to me my watch," said Harold. -"I don't suppose that he will need it now." - -Harold stopped the fly, and wrote upon a card of his own the following -words, "_A shocking thing has happened that keeps me from you. My poor -father is dead. Return to town by first train._" - -He instructed the driver to go to the Priory Hotel and deliver the card -into the hand of the lady whom he had driven there the previous evening, -and then to pay Harold's bill, drive the lady to the junction, and -return with the overcoat and hat to the inn on the road. - -Harold gave the man a couple of sovereigns, and the driver said that he -would be able easily to convey the lady to the junction in time for the -first train. - -While the sergeant went away to send the Chief Constable's telegrams, -Major Wilson and Harold drove off together in the dog-cart--the man with -the truncheon and the men who had carried the bill-hooks respectfully -saluted as the vehicle passed. - -In the course of another half hour, Harold was in the centre of a cloud -of dust, produced by the vigorous action of an athlete at the little -inn, who had been engaged to brush him down. When he caught sight of -himself in a looking-glass on entering the inn, Harold was as much -amazed as he had been when he heard from the Chief Constable that he had -been wandering round the wood all night. He felt that he could not blame -the woodcutters for taking him for a tramp. - -He managed to eat some breakfast, and then he fly came up with his -overcoat and hat. He spoke only one sentence to the driver. - -"You brought her to the train?" - -"Yes, sir. She only waited to write a line. Here it is, sir." - -He handed Harold an envelope. - -Inside was a sheet of paper. - -"_Dearest--dearest--You have all my sympathy--all my love. Come to me -soon._" - -These were the words that he read in the handwriting of Beatrice. - -He was in a bedroom when he read them. He sat down on the side of the -bed and burst into tears. - -It was ten years since he had wept. - -Then he buried his face in his hands and said a prayer. - -It was ten years since he had prayed. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVIII--ON MURDER AS A SOCIAL INCIDENT. - -|THIS is not the story of a murder. However profitable as well as -entertaining it would be to trace through various mysteries, false -alarms, and intricacies the following up of a clue by the subtle -intelligence of a detective, until the rope is around the neck of the -criminal, such profit and entertainment must be absent from this story -of a man's conquest of the Devil within himself. Regarding the incident -of the murder of Lord Fotheringay much need not be said. - -The sergeant appeared at the inn with replies to the telegrams that -he had been instructed to send to the railway officials, and they were -found to corroborate all the statements made by Harold. A ticket of the -number of that upon the one which Harold still retained, had been issued -previous to the departure of the four-fifty-five train from London. - -"Of course, I knew what the replies would be," said Major Wilson. "But -you can understand my position." - -"Certainly I can," said Harold. "It needs no apology." - -They drove to the junction together to catch the train to Abbeylands -station. An astute officer from Scotland Yard had been telegraphed for, -to augment the intelligence of the County Constabulary Force in the -endeavour to follow up the only clue that was available, and Major -Wilson was to travel with the London officer to the scene of the crime. - -In a few minutes the London train came up, and the passengers for -the Abbeylands line crossed to the side platform. Among them Harold -perceived his own servant. The man was dressed in black, and carried a -portmanteau and hat-box. He did not see his master until he had reached -the platform. Then he walked up to Harold, laid down the portmanteau -and endeavoured--by no means unsuccessfully--to impart some -emotion--respectful emotion, and very respectful sympathy, into the act -of touching his hat. - -"I heard the sad news, my lord," said the man, "and I took the liberty -of packing your lordship's portmanteau and taking the first train to -Abbeylands. I took it for granted that you would be there, my lord." - -"You acted wisely, Martin," said Harold. "I will ask you not to make any -change in addressing me for some days, at least." - -"Very good, my lord--I mean, sir," said the man. - -He had not acquired for more than a minute the new mode of address, and -yet he had difficulty in relinquishing it. - -Abbeylands was empty of the guests who, up to the previous evening, had -been within its walls. From the mouth of the gamekeeper, who had found -the body of Lord Fotheringay, Harold learned a few more particulars -regarding his ghastly discovery, but they were of no importance, though -the astute Scotland Yard officer considered them--or pretended to -consider them--to be extremely valuable. - -For a week the detectives were very active, and the newspapers announced -daily that they had discovered a clue, and that an arrest might be -looked for almost immediately. - -No arrest took place, however; the detectives returned to their -head-quarters, and the mild sensation produced by the heading of a -newspaper column, "The Murder of Lord Fotheringay" was completely -obliterated by the toothsome scandal produced by the appearance of a -music-hall artist as the co-respondent in a Duchess's divorce case. It -was eminently a case for sandwiches and plovers' eggs; and the costumes -which the eaters of these portable comestibles wore, were described -in detail by those newspapers which everyone abuses and--reads. The -middle-aged rheumatic butterfly was dead and buried; and though many -theories were started--not by Scotland Yard, however--to account for -his death, no arrests were made. Whoever the murderer was, he remained -undetected. (A couple of years had passed before Harold heard a highly -circumstantial story about the appearance of a foreign gentleman with -extremely dark eyes and hair, in the neighbourhood of Castle Innisfail, -inquiring for Lord Fotheringay a few days after Lord Fotheringay had -left the Castle). - -Mrs. Lampson, the only daughter of the deceased peer, had received so -severe a shock through the tragic circumstances of her father's death, -that she found it necessary to take a long voyage. She started for Samoa -with her husband in his steam yacht. It may be mentioned incidentally, -however, that, as the surface of the Bay of Biscay was somewhat ruffled -when the yacht was going southward, it was thought advisable to change -the cruise to one in the Mediterranean. Mrs. Lampson turned up on the -Riviera in the spring, and, after entertaining freely there for some -time, an article appeared above her signature in a leading magazine -deploring the low tone of society at Monte Carlo and on the Riviera -generally. - -It was in the railway carriage on their way to London from -Abbeylands--the exact time was when Harold was in the act of repeating -the stanzas from Shelley--that Helen Craven and Edmund Airey conversed -together, sitting side by side for the purpose. - -"He is Lord Fotheringay now," remarked Miss Craven, thoughtfully. - -Edmund looked at her with something of admiration in his eyes. The young -woman who, an hour or two after being shocked at the news of a tragedy -enacted at the very door of the house where she had been a guest, could -begin to discuss its social bearing, was certainly a young woman to be -wondered at--that is, to be admired. - -"Yes," said Edmund, "he is now Lord Fotheringay, whatever that means." - -"It means a title and an income, does it not?" said she. - -"Yes, a sort of title and, yes, a sort of income," said he. - -"Either would be quite enough to marry and live on," said Helen. - -"He contrived to live without either up to the present." - -"Yes, poorly." - -"Not palatially, certainly, but still pleasantly." - -"Will he ask her to marry him now, do you think?" - -"Her?" - -"Yes, you know--Beatrice Avon." - -"Oh--I think that--that I should like to know what you think about it." - -"I think he will ask her." - -"And that she will accept him?" - -She did not know how much thought he had been giving to this question -during some hours--how eagerly he was waiting her reply. - -"No." she said; "I believe that she will not accept him, because she -means to accept you--if you give her a chance." - -The start that he gave was very well simulated. Scarcely so admirable -from a standpoint of art was the opening of his eyes accompanied by a -little exclamation of astonishment. - -"Why are you surprised?" she said, as if she was surprised at his -surprise--so subtly can a clever young woman flatter the cleverest of -men. - -He shook his head. - -"I am surprised because I have just heard the most surprising -sentence that ever came upon my ears. That is saying a good deal--yes, -considering how much we have talked together." - -"Why should it be surprising?" she said. "Did you not call upon her in -town?" - -"Yes, I called upon her," he replied, wondering how she had come to know -it. (She had merely guessed it.) - -"That would give her hope." - -"Hope?" - -"Hope. And it was this hope that induced her to accept Mrs. Lampson's -invitation, although she must have known that Mrs. Lampson's brother -was not to be of the party. I have often wondered if it was you or Lord -Fotheringay who asked Mrs. Lampson to invite her?" - -"It was I," said Edmund. - -Her eyes brightened--so far as it was possible for them to brighten. - -"I wonder if she came to know that," said Helen musingly. "It would be -something of a pity if she did not know it." - -"For that matter, nearly everything that happens is a pity," said he. - -"Not everything," said she. "But it is certainly a pity that the person -who had the bad taste to stab poor Lord Fotheringay did not postpone his -crime for at least one day. You would in that case have had a chance of -returning by the side of Beatrice Avon instead of by the side of some -one else." - -"Who is infinitely cleverer," said Edmund. - -At this point their conversation ended--at least so far as Harold and -Beatrice were concerned. - -Helen felt, however, that even that brief exchange of opinions had been -profitable. Her first thought on hearing of the ghastly discovery of -the gamekeeper, was that all her striving to win Harold had been in -vain--that all her contriving, by the help of Edmund Airey, had been to -no purpose. Harold would now be free to marry Beatrice Avon--or to ask -her to marry him; which she believed was much the same thing. - -But in the course of a short time she did not feel so hopeless. She -believed that Edmund Airey only needed a little further flattery to -induce him to resume his old attitude in regard to Beatrice; and the -result of her little chat with him in the train showed her not merely -that, in regard to flattery, he was pretty much as other men, only, of -course, he required it to be subtly administered--but also that he had -no intention of allowing his compact in regard to Beatrice to expire -with their departure from Castle Innisfail. He admitted having called -upon her in London, and this showed Helen very plainly that his attitude -in respect of Beatrice was the result of a rather stronger impulse -than the desire to be of service to her, Helen, in accordance with -the suggestions which she had ventured to make during her first frank -interview with him. - -She made up her mind that he would not require in future to be -frequently reminded of that frank interview. She knew that there exists -a more powerful motive for some men's actions than a desire to forward -the happiness of their fellow-men. - -This was her reflection at the precise moment that Harold's face was -bent down to the face of Beatrice, while he whispered the words that -thrilled her. - -As for Edmund Airey, he, too, had his thoughts, and, like Helen, he -considered himself quite capable of estimating the amount of importance -to be attached to such an incident as the murder of Lord Fotheringay, -as a factor in the solution of any problem that might suggest itself. -A murder is, of course, susceptible of being regarded from a social -standpoint. The murder of Lord Fotheringay, for instance, had broken up -what promised to be an exceedingly interesting party at Abbeylands. A -murder is very provoking sometimes; and when Edmund Airey heard Lady -Innisfail complain to Archie Brown--Archie had become a great friend -of hers--of the irritating features of that incident--when he heard -an uncharitable man declare that it was most thoughtless of Lord -Fotheringay to get a knife stuck into his ribs just when the pheasants -were at their best, he could not but feel that his own reflections were -very plainly expressed. - -He had not been certain of himself during the previous two months. For -the first time in his life he did not see his way clearly. It was -in order to improve his vision that he had begged Mrs. Lampson--with -infinite tact, she admitted to her brother--to invite Beatrice to -Abbeylands. He rather thought that, before the visit of Beatrice -should terminate, he would be able to see his way clearly in certain -directions. - -But now, owing to the annoying incident that had occurred, the -opportunity was denied him of improving his vision in accordance -with the prescription which he had prepared to effect this purpose; -therefore---- - -He had reached this point in his reflections when the special train, -which Mr. Lampson had chartered to take his guests back to town, ran -alongside the platform at the London terminus. - -This was just the moment when Harold looked up to the window from the -Priory grounds and saw that vision of white glowing beauty. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIX.--ON THE ADVANTAGES OF CONFESSION. - -|HE stood silent, without taking a step into the room, when the door had -been closed behind him. - -With a cry she sprang from her seat in front of the fire and put out her -hands to him. - -Still he did not move a step toward her. He remained at the door. - -Something of fear was upon her face as she stood looking at him. He was -pale and haggard and ghostlike. She could not but perceive how strongly -the likeness to his father, who had been buried the previous day, -appeared upon his face now that it was so worn and haggard--much more so -than she had ever seen his father's face. - -"Harold--Harold--my beloved!" she cried, and there was something of fear -in her voice. "Harold--husband--" - -"For God's sake, do not say that, Beatrice!" - -His voice was hoarse and quite unlike the voice that had whispered the -lines of Shelley, with his face within the halo of moonlight that had -clung about her hair. - -She was more frightened still. Her hands were clasped over her -heart--the lamplight gleamed upon the blood-red circle of rubies on the -one ring that she wore--it had never left her finger. - -He came into the room. She only retreated one step. - -"For God's sake, Beatrice, do not call me husband! I am not your -husband!" - -She came toward him; and now the look of fear that she had worn, became -one of sympathy. Her eyes were full of tears as she said, "My poor -Harold, you have all the sympathy--the compassion--the love of my heart. -You know it." - -"Yes," he said, "I know it. I know what is in your heart. I know its -purity--its truth--its sweetness--that is why I should never have come -here, knowing also that I am unworthy to stand in your presence." - -"You are worthy of all--all--that I can give you." - -"Worthy of contempt--contempt--worthy of that for which there is no -forgiveness. Beatrice, we have not been married. The form through which -we went in this room was a mockery. The man whom I brought here was not -a priest. He was guilty of a crime in coming here. I was guilty of a -crime in bringing him." - -She looked at him for a few moments, and then turned away from him. - -She went without faltering in the least toward the chair that still -remained in front of the fire. But before she had taken more than a -few steps toward it, she looked back at him--only for a second or two, -however; then she reached the chair and seated herself in it with her -back to him. She looked into the fire. - -There was a long silence before he spoke again. - -"I think I must have been mad," he said. "Mad to distrust you. It was -only when I was away from you that madness came upon me. The utter -hopelessness of ever being able to call you mine took possession of me, -body and soul, and I felt that I must bind you to me by some means. An -accident suggested the means to me. God knows, Beatrice, that I meant -never to take advantage of your belief that we were married. But when -I felt myself by your side in the train--when I felt your heart beating -against mine that night--I found myself powerless to resist. I was -overcome. I had cast honour, and truth, yes, and love--the love that -exists for ever without hope of reward--to the winds. Thank God--thank -God that I awoke from my madness. The sight which should have made me -even more powerless to resist, awoke me to a true sense of the life -which I had been living for some hours, and by God's grace I was strong -enough to fly." - -Again there was a long silence. He could see her finely-cut profile as -she sat upright, looking into the fire. He saw that her features had -undergone no change whatever while he was speaking. It seemed as if his -recital had in no respect interested her. - -The silence was appalling. - -She put out her hand and took from a small table beside her, the hook -which apparently she had been reading when he had entered. She turned -over the leaves as if searching for the place at which she had been -interrupted. - -He came beside her. - -"Have you no word for me--no word of pity--of forgiveness--of farewell?" -he said. - -She had apparently found her place. She seemed to be reading. - -"Beatrice, Beatrice, I implore of you--one word--one word--any word!" - -He had clutched her arm as he fell on his knees passionately beside her. -The book dropped to the floor. She was on her feet at the same instant. - -"Oh God--oh God, what have I done that I should be the victim of these -men?" she cried, not in a strident voice, but in a low tone, tremulous -with passion. "One man thinks it a good thing to amuse himself by -pretending that I interest him, and another whom I trusted as I would -have trusted my God, endeavours to ruin my life--and he has done it--he -has done it! My life is ruined!" - -She had never looked at him while he was speaking to her. She had not -been able for some time to comprehend the full force of the revelation -he had made to her; but so soon as she had felt his hand upon her arm, -she seemed in a moment to understand all. - -Now she looked at him as he knelt at her feet with his head bowed down -to the arm of the chair in which she had been sitting--she looked down -upon him; and then with a cry as of physical pain, she flung herself -wildly upon a sofa, sobbing hysterically. - -He was beside her in a moment. - -"Oh, Beatrice, my love, my love, tell me what reparation I can make," he -cried. "Beatrice, have pity upon me! Do not say that I have ruined your -life. It was only because I could not bear the thought that there was -a chance of losing you, that I did what I did. I could not face that, -Beatrice!" - -She still lay there, shaken with sobs. He dared not put his hand upon -her. He dared not touch one of her hands with his. He could only stand -there by her side. Every sob that she gave was like a dagger's thrust -to him. He suffered more during those moments than his father had done -while the hand of the assassin was upon him. - -The long silence was broken only by her sobs. - -"Beatrice--Beatrice, you will say one word to me--one word, Beatrice, -for God's sake!" - -Some moments had passed while she struggled hard to control herself. - -It was long before she was successful. - -"Go--go--go!" she cried, without raising her head from the satin cushion -of the sofa. "Oh, Harold, Harold, go!" - -"I will go," he said, after another long pause. "I will go. But I leave -here all that I love in the world--all that I shall ever love. I was -false to myself once--only once; I shall never be so again. I shall -never cease loving you while I live, Beatrice. I never loved you as I do -now." - -She made no sign. - -Even when she heard the door of the room open and close, she did not -rise. - -And the fire burnt itself out, and the lamp burnt itself out, but still -she lay there in her tears. - - - - -CHAPTER L.--ON CONSOLATION AS A FINE ART. - - -|HIS worst forebodings had come to pass. That was the one feeling which -Harold had on leaving her. - -He had scarcely ventured to entertain a hope that the result of his -interview with her and of his confession to her would be different. - -He knew her. - -That was why he had gone to her without hope. He knew that her nature -was such as made it impossible for her to understand how he could have -practised a fraud upon her; and he knew that understanding is the first -step toward forgiving. - -Still, there ever pervades the masculine mind an idea that there is no -limit to a woman's forgiveness. - -The masculine mind has the best of reasons for holding fast to this -idea. It is the result of many centuries of experience of woman--of many -centuries of testing the limits of woman's forgiveness. The belief that -there is nothing that a woman will not forgive in a man whom she loves, -is the heritage of man--just as the heritage of woman is to believe -that nothing that is done by a man whom she loves, stands in need of -forgiveness. - -Thus it is that men and women make (occasionally) excellent companions -for one another, and live together (frequently) in harmony. - -Thus it was that, in spite of the fact that his reason and his knowledge -of the nature of Beatrice assured him that his confession of the fraud -in which he had participated against her would not be forgiven by her, -there still remained in the mind of Harold Wynne a shadowy hope that she -might yet be as other women, who, understanding much, forgive much. - -He left her presence, feeling that she was no as other women are. - -That was the only grain of comfort that remained with him. He loved her -more than he had ever done before, because she was not as other women -are. - -She could not understand how that cold distrust had taken possession of -him. - -She knew nothing of that world in which he had lived all his life--a -world quite full of worldliness--and therefore she could not understand -how it was that he had sought to bind her to him beyond the possibility -(as he meant her to think) of ever being separated from him. She -had laid all her trust in him. She had not even claimed from him the -privilege of consulting with someone--her father or someone with whom -she might be on more confidential terms--regarding the proposition which -he had made to her. No, she had trusted him implicitly, and yet he had -persevered in regarding her as belonging to the worldly ones among whom -he had lived all his life. - -He had lost her. - -He had lost her, and he deserved to lose her. This was his thought as -he walked westward. He had not the satisfaction of feeling that he was -badly treated. - -The feeling on the part of a man that he has been badly treated by a -woman, usually gives him much greater satisfaction than would result -from his being extremely well treated by the same, or, indeed, by any -other woman. - -But this blessed consciousness of being badly treated was denied to -Harold Wynne. He had been the ill-treater, not the ill-treated. He -reflected how he had taken advantage of the peculiar circumstances of -the girl's life--upon the absence of her father--upon her own trustful -innocence--to carry out the fraud which he had perpetrated upon her. -Under ordinary circumstances and with a girl of an ordinary stamp, such -a fraud would have been impossible. He was well aware that a girl living -under the conditions to which most girls are subjected, would have -laughed in his face had he suggested the advisability of marrying him -privately. - -Yes, he had taken a cruel advantage of her and of the freedom which she -enjoyed, to betray her; and the feeling that he had lost her did not -cause him more bitterness than deserved to fall to his lot. - -One bitterness of reflection was, however, spared to him, and this was -why he cried again, as he threw himself into a chair, "Thank God--thank -God!" - -He had not been seated for long, before his servant entered with a card. - -"I told the lady that you were not seeing any one, my lord," said -Martin. - -"The lady?" - -Not for a single instant did it occur to his mind that Beatrice had come -to him. - -"Yes, my lord; Miss Craven," said Martin, handing him the card. "But she -said that perhaps you would see her." - -"_Only for a minute_," were the words written in pencil on Miss Craven's -card. - -"Yes, I will certainly see Miss Craven," said Harold. - -"Very good, my lord." - -She stood at the door. The light outside was very low; so was the light -in the room. - -Between two dim lights was where Helen looked her best. A fact of which -she was well aware. - -She seemed almost pretty as she stood there. - -She had made up pale, which she considered appropriately sympathetic on -her part. And, indeed, there can scarcely be a difference of opinion on -this point. - -In delicate matters of taste like this she rarely-made a mistake. - -"It was so good of you to come," said he, taking her hand. - -"I could not help it, Harold," said she. - -"Mamma is in the brougham; she desired me to convey to you her deepest -sympathy." - -"I am indeed touched by her thoughtfulness," said Harold. "You will tell -her so." - -"Mamma is not very strong," said Helen. "She would not come in with me. -She, too, has suffered deeply. But I felt that I must tell you face to -face how terribly shocked we were--how I feel for you with all my heart. -We have always been good friends--the best of friends, Harold--at least, -I do not know where I should look in the world for another such friend -as you." - -"Yes, we were always good friends, Helen," said he; "and I hope that we -shall always remain so." - -"We shall--I feel that we shall, Harold," said she. - -Her eyes were overflowing with tears, as she put out a hand to him--a -hand which he took and held between both his own, but without speaking a -word. "I felt that I must go to you if only for a moment--if only to say -to you as I do now, 'I feel for you with all my heart. You have all my -sympathy.' That is all I have to say. I knew you would allow me to see -you, and to give you my message. Good-bye." - -"You are so good--so kind--so thoughtful," said he. "I shall always feel -that you are my friend--my best friend, Helen." - -"And you may always trust in my friendship--my--my--friendship," said -she. "You will come and see us soon--mamma and me. We should be so glad. -Lady Innisfail wanted me to go with her to Netherford Hall--several of -your sister's party are going with Lady Innisfail; but of course I could -not think of going. I shall go nowhere for some time--a long time, I -think. We shall be at home whenever you call, Harold." - -"And you may be certain that I shall call soon," said he. "Pray tell -Mrs. Craven how deeply touched--how deeply grateful I am for -her kindness. And you--you know that I shall never forget your -thoughtfulness, Helen." - -Her eyes were still glistening as he took her hand and pressed it. She -looked at him through her tears; her lips moved, but no words came. She -turned and went down the stairs. He followed her for a few steps, and -then Martin met her, opened the hall-door, and saw her put into the -brougham by her footman. - -"Well," said her mother, when the brougham got upon the wood pavement. -"Well, did you find the poor orphan in tears and comfort him?" Mrs. -Craven was not devoid of an appreciation of humour of a certain form. -She had lived in Birmingham for several years of her life. - -"Dear mamma," said Helen, "I think you may always trust to me to know -what is right to do upon all occasions. My visit was a success. I knew -that it would be a success. I know Harold Wynne." - -"I know one thing," said Mrs. Craven, "and that is, that he will never -marry you. Whatever Harold Wynne might have done, Lord Fotheringay will -never marry you, my dear. Make up your mind to that." - -Her daughter laughed in the way that a daughter laughs at a prophetic -mother clad in sables, with a suspicion of black velvet and beads -underneath. - - - - -CHAPTER LI.--ON THE WAYS OF PROVIDENCE AND OTHERS. - -|DURING the next few days Harold had numerous visitors. A man cannot -have his father murdered without attracting a considerable amount of -attention to himself. Cards "_With deepest sympathy_" were left upon him -by the hundred, and the majority of those sympathizers drove away to -say to their friends at their clubs what a benefactor to society was the -person who had run that knife into the ribs of Lord Fotheringay. Some -suggested that a presentation should be got up for that man; and when -someone asked what the police meant by taking so much trouble to find -the man, another ventured to formulate the very plausible theory that -they were doing so in order to force him to give sittings to an eminent -sculptor for a statue of himself with the knife in his hand, to be -erected by public subscription outside the House of Lords. - -"Yes; _pour encourager les autres!_" said one of the sympathizers. - -Another of the sympathizers inquired where were the Atheists now? - -It was generally admitted that, as an incentive to orthodoxy, the tragic -end of Lord Fotheringay could scarcely be over-estimated. - -It threw a flood of light upon the Ways of Providence. - -The Scotland Yard people at first regarded the incident from such a -standpoint. - -They assumed that Providence had decreed a violent death to Lord -Fotheringay, in order to give the detective force an opportunity of -displaying their ingenuity. - -They had many interviews with Harold, and they asked him a number of -questions regarding the life of his father, his associates, and his -tastes. - -They wondered if he had an enemy. - -They feared that the deed was the work of an enemy; and they started the -daring theory that if they only had a clue to this supposititious enemy -they would be on the track of the assassin. - -After about a week of suchlike theorizing, they were not quite so sure -of Providence. - -Some newspapers interested in the Ways of Providence, declared through -the medium of leading articles, that Lord Fotheringay had been murdered -in order that the world might be made aware of the utter incapacity of -Scotland Yard, and the necessity for the reorganization of the detective -force. - -Other newspapers--they were mostly the organs of the Opposition--sneered -at the Home Secretary. - -Mr. Durdan was heard to affirm in the solitude of the smoking-room of -his club, that the days of the Government were numbered. - -Then Harold had also to receive daily visits from the family lawyers; -and as family lawyers take more interest in the affairs of the family -than any of its members, he found these visits very tiresome; only he -was determined to find out what was his exact position financially, and -to do so involved the examination of the contents of several tin boxes, -as well as the columns of some bank books. On the whole, however, the -result of his researches under the guidance of the lawyers was worth the -trouble that they entailed. - -He found that he would be compelled to live on an income of twelve -thousand pounds a year, if he really wished--as he said he did--to make -provision for the paying off of certain incumbrances, and of keeping in -repair a certain mansion on the borders of a Welsh county. - -Having lived for several years upon an allowance of something under -twelve hundred pounds a year, he felt that he could manage to subsist on -twelve thousand. This was the thought that came to him automatically, so -soon as he had discovered his financial position. His next thought was -that, by his own folly, he had rendered himself incapable of enjoying -this sudden increase in revenue. - -If he had only been patient--if he had only been trustful for one week -longer! - -He felt very bitterly on the subject of his folly--his cruelty--his -fraud; the fact being that he entertained some preposterous theory of -individual responsibility. - -He had never had inculcated on him the principles of heredity, otherwise -he would have understood fully that he could no more have avoided -carrying out a plan of deception upon a woman, than the pointer -puppy--where would the Evolutionists be without their pointer -puppy?--can avoid pointing. - -Whether the adoption of the scientific explanation of what he had done -would have alleviated his bitterness or not, is quite another question. -The philosophy that accounts for suffering does not go the length of -relieving suffering. The science that gives the gout a name that few -persons can pronounce, does not prevent an ordinary gouty subject from -swearing; which seems rather a pity. - -Among the visitors whom Harold saw in these days was Edmund Airey. Mr. -Airey did not think it necessary to go through the form of expressing -his sympathy for his friend's bereavement. His only allusion to the -bereavement was to be found in a sneer at Scotland Yard. - -Could he do anything for Harold, he wondered. If he could do anything, -Harold might depend on his doing it. - -Harold said, "Thank you, old chap, I don't think I can reasonably ask -you to work out for me, in tabulated form, the net value of leases that -have yet to run from ten to sixty years." - -"Therein the patient must minister to himself," said Edmund. "I suppose -it is, after all, only a question of administration. If you want any -advice--well, you have asked my advice before now. You have even gone -the length of taking my advice--yes, sometimes. That's more than the -majority of people do--unless my advice bears out their own views. -Advice, my dear Harold, is the opinion asked by one man of another when -he has made up his mind what course to adopt." - -"I have always found your counsel good," said Harold. "You know men and -their motives. I have often wondered if you knew anything about women." - -Mr. Airey smiled. It was rather ridiculous that anyone so well -acquainted with him as Harold was, should make use of a phrase that -suggested a doubt of his capacity. - -"Women--and their motives?" said he. - -"Quite so," said Harold. "Their motives. You once assured me that there -was no such thing as woman in the abstract. Perhaps, assuming that that -is your standpoint, you may say that it is ridiculous to talk of the -motives of woman; though it would be reasonable--at least as reasonable -as most talk of women--to speak of the motives of a woman." - -"What woman do you speak of?" said Edmund, quickly. - -"I speak as a fool--broadly," said Harold. "I feel myself to be a fool, -when I reflect upon the wisdom of those stories told to us by Brian -the boatman. The first was about a man who defrauded the revenue of the -country, the other was about a cow that got jammed in the doorway of an -Irish cabin. There was some practical philosophy in both those stories, -and they put all questions of women and their motives out of our heads -while Brian was telling them." - -"There's no doubt about that," said Edmund. - -"By the way, didn't you ask me for my advice on some point during one of -those days on the Irish lough?" - -"If I did, I'm certain that I received good counsel from you," said -Harold. - -"You did. But you didn't take it," said Edmund, with a laugh. - -"I told you once that you hadn't given me time. I tell you so again," -said Harold. - -"Has she been to see you within the past few days? asked Edmund. - -"You understand women--and their motives," said Harold. "Yes, Miss -Craven was here. By the way, talking of motives, I have often wondered -why you suggested to my sister that Miss Avon would make an agreeable -addition to the party at Abbeylands." - -Not for a second did Edmund Airey change colour--not for a second did -his eyes fall before the searching glance of his friend. - -"The fact was," said he--and he smiled as he spoke--"I was under the -impression that your father--ah, well, if he hadn't that mechanical -rectitude of movement which appertains chiefly to the walking doll -and other automata, he had still many good points. He told me upon one -occasion that it was his intention to marry Miss Avon. I was amused." - -"And you wanted to be amused again? I see. I think that I, too, am -beginning to understand something of men--and their motives," remarked -Harold. - -"If you make any progress in that direction, you might try and fathom -the object of the Opposition in getting up this agitation about Siberia. -They are going to arouse the country by descriptions of the horrors of -exile in Siberia. They want to make the Government responsible for what -goes on there. And the worst of it is that they'll do it, too. Do you -remember Bulgaria?" - -"Perfectly. The country is a fool. The Government will need a strong -programme to counteract the effects of the Siberian platform." - -"I'm trying to think out something at the present moment. Well, -good-bye. Don't fail to let me know if I can do anything for you." - -He had been gone some time before Harold smiled--not the smile of a man -who has been amused at something that has come under his notice, but the -sad smile of a man who has found that his sagacity has not been at fault -when he has thought the worst about one of his friends. - -There are times when a certain imperturbability of demeanour on the part -of a man who has been asked a sudden searching question, conveys as -much to the questioner as his complete collapse would do. The perfect -composure with which Edmund had replied to his sudden question regarding -his motive in suggesting to Mrs. Lampson--with infinite tact--that -Beatrice Avon might be invited to Abbeylands, told Harold all that he -had an interest to know. - -Edmund Airey's acquaintance with men--and women--had led him to feel -sure that Mrs. Lamp-son would tell her brother of the suggestion made -by him, Edmund; and also that her brother would ask him if he had any -particular reason for making that suggestion. This was perfectly plain -to Harold; and he knew that his friend had been walking about for some -time with that answer ready for the question which had just been put to -him. - -"He is on his way to Beatrice at the present moment," said Harold, while -that bitter smile was still upon his features. - -And he was right. - - - - -CHAPTER LII.--ON THE FLUSH, THE FOOL, AND FATE. - -|MR. AIREY had called on Beatrice since his return from that melancholy -entertainment at Abbeylands, but he had not been fortunate enough to -find her at home. Now, however, he was more lucky. She had already two -visitors with her in the big drawing-room, when Mr. Airey was announced. - -He could not fail to notice the little flush upon her face as he -entered. He noticed it, and it was extremely gratifying to him to do so; -only he hoped that her visitors were not such close observers as he -knew himself to be. He would not have liked them--whoever they were---to -leave the house with the impression that he was a lover. If they were -close observers and inclined to gossip, they might, he felt, consider -themselves justified in putting so liberal an interpretation upon her -quick flush as he entered. - -He did not blush: he had been a Member of Parliament for several years. - -Yes, she was clearly pleased to see him, and her manifestation of -pleasure made him assured that he had never seen a lovelier girl. It was -so good of him not to forget her, she declared. He feared that her flush -would increase, and suggest the peony rather than the peach. But he -quickly perceived that she had recovered from the excitement of his -sudden appearance, and that, as a matter of fact, she was becoming pale -rather than roseate. - -He noticed this when her visitors--they were feeble folk, the head of a -department in the Museum and his sister--had left the house. - -"It is delightful to be face to face with you once more," he said. "I -seem to hear the organ-music of the Atlantic now that I am beside you -again." - -She gave a little laugh--did he detect something of scorn in its -ring?--as she said, "Oh, no; it is the sound of the greater ocean that -we have about us here. It is the tide of the affairs of men that flows -around us." - -No, her laugh could have had nothing of scorn about it. - -"I cannot think of you as borne about on this full tide," said he. "I -see you with your feet among the purple heather--I wonder if there was a -sprig of white about it--along the shores of the Irish lough. I see you -in the midst of a flood of sunset-light flowing from the west, making -the green one red." - -She saw that sunset. He was describing the sunset that had been -witnessed from the deck of the yacht returning from the seal-hunt beyond -the headlands. Did he know why she got up suddenly from her seat and -pretended to snuff one of the candles on the mantelshelf? Did he know -how close the tears were to her eyes as she gave another little laugh? - -"So long as you do not associate me with Mr. Durdan's views on the Irish -question, I shall be quite satisfied," said she. "Poor Mr. Durdan! How -he saw a bearing upon the Irish question in all the phenomena of Nature! -The sunset--the sea--the clouds--all had more or less to do with the -Irish question." - -"And he was not altogether wrong," said Edmund. "Mr. Durdan is a man -of scrupulous inaccuracy, as a rule, but he sometimes stumbles across a -truth. The sea and sky are eternal, and the Irish question----" - -"Is the rock upon which the Government is to be wrecked, I believe," -said she. "Oh, yes; Mr. Durdan confided in me that the days of the -Government are numbered." - -"He became confidential on that topic to a considerable number of -persons," said Edmund. - -"And we are confidential on Mr. Durdan as a topic," said she. - -"We have talked confidentially on more profitable topics, have we not?" -said he. - -"We have talked confidently at least." - -"And confidingly, I hope. I told you all my aspirations, Miss Avon." - -"All?" - -"Well, perhaps, I made some reservations." - -"Oh." - -"Perhaps I shall tell you confidentially of some other aspirations of -mine--some day." - -He spoke slowly and with an emphasis and suggestiveness that could not -be overlooked. - -"And you will speak confidently on that subject, I am sure." - -She was lying back in her chair, with the firelight fluttering over her. -The firelight was flinging rose leaves about her face. - -That was what the effect suggested to him. - -He noticed also how beautiful was the effect of the light shining -through her hair. That was an effect which had been noticed before. - -She turned her eyes suddenly upon him, when he did not reply to her -word, "confidently." - -He repeated the word. - -"Confidently--confidently;" then he shook his head. "Alas! no. A man who -speaks confidently on the subject of his aspirations--on the subject of -a supreme aspiration--is a fool." - -"And yet I remember that you assured me upon one occasion that man was -master of his fate," said she. - -"Did I?" said he. "That must have been when you first appeared among us -at Castle Innisfail. I have learned a great deal since then." - -"For example?" said she. - -"Modesty in making broad statements where Fate is concerned," he -replied, with scarcely a pause. - -She withdrew her eyes from his face, and gave a third laugh, closely -resembling in its tone her first--that one which caused him to wonder if -there was a touch of scorn in its ripple. - -He looked at her very narrowly. She was certainly the loveliest thing -that he had ever seen. Could it be possible that she was leading him on? - -She had certainly never left herself open to the suspicion of leading -him on when at Castle Innis-fail--among the purple heather or the -crimson sunsets about which he had been talking--and yet he had been -led on. He had a suspicion now that he was in peril. He had so fine an -understanding of woman and her motives, that he became apprehensive of -the slightest change. He was, in respect of woman, what a thermometer is -when aboard a ship that is approaching an iceberg. He was appreciative -of every change--of every motive. - -"I was looking forward to another pleasant week near you," said he, and -his remark somehow seemed to have a connection with what he had been -saying--had he not been announcing an acquirement of modesty?--"Yes, if -you had been with us at Abbeylands you might have become associated in -my mind with the glory of the colour of an autumn woodland. But it was, -of course, fortunate for you that you got the terrible news in time to -prevent your leaving town." - -He felt that she had become suddenly excited. There was no ignoring the -rising and falling of the lace points that lay upon the bosom of her -gown. The question was: did her excitement proceed from what he had -said, or from what she fancied he was about to say? - -It was a nice question. - -But he bore out his statement regarding his gain in modesty, by assuming -that she had been deeply affected by the story of the tragic end of Lord -Fotheringay, so that she could not now hear a reference to it without -emotion. - -"I wonder if you care for German Opera," said he. There could scarcely -be even the most subtle connection between this and his last remark. -She looked at him with something like surprise in her eyes when he had -spoken. Only to some minds does a connection between criminality and -German Opera become apparent. - -"German Opera, Mr. Airey?" - -"Yes. The fact is that I have a box for the winter season at the Opera -House, and my cousin, Mrs. Carroll, means to go to every performance, -I believe; she is an enthusiast on the subject of German Opera--she has -even sat out a performance of 'Parsifal'--and I know that she is eager -to make converts. She would be delighted to call upon you when she -returns from Brighton." - -"It is so kind of you to think of me. I should love to go. You will be -there--I mean, you will be able to come also, occasionally?" - -He looked at her. He had risen from his seat, being about to take leave -of her. She had also risen, but her eyes drooped as she exclaimed, "You -will be there?" - -She did not fail to perceive the compromising sequence of her phrases, -"I should love to go. You will be there?" She was looking critically at -the toe of her shoe, turning it about so that she could make a thorough -examination of it from every standpoint. Her hands, too, were busy tying -knots on the girdle of her gown. - -He felt that it would be cruel to let her see too plainly that he was -conscious of that undue frankness of hers; so he broke the awkward -silence by saying--not quite casually, of course, but still in not too -pointed a way, "Yes, I shall be there, occasionally. Not that my -devotion will be for German Opera, however." The words were well chosen, -he felt. They were spoken as the legitimate sequence to those words that -she had uttered in that girlish enthusiasm, which was so charming. Only, -of course, being a man, he could choose his words. They were -artificial--the result of a choice; whereas it was plain that she could -not choose but utter the phrases that had come from her. She was a girl, -and so spoke impulsively and from her heart. - -"Meantime," said she--she had now herself almost under control again, -and was looking at him with a smile upon her face as she put out her -hand to meet his. "Meantime, you will come again to see me? My father is -greatly occupied with his history, otherwise he also would, I know, be -very pleased to see you." - -"I hope that you will be pleased," said he. "If so, I will -call--occasionally--frequently." - -"Frequently," said she, and once again--but only for a moment this -time--she scrutinized her foot. - -"Frequently," said he, in a low tone. Being a man he could choose his -tones as well as his words. - -He went away with a deep satisfaction dwelling within him--the -satisfaction of the clever man who feels that he has not only spoken -cleverly, but acted cleverly--which is quite a different thing. - -Later on he felt that he need not have been in such a hurry calling -upon her. He had gone to her directly after visiting Harold. He had -been under the impression that he would do well to see her and make his -proposal to her regarding the German Opera season without delay. The -moment that he had heard of Lord Fotheringay's death, it had occurred to -him that he would do well to lose no time in paying her a visit. After -due consideration, he had thought it advisable to call upon Harold in -the first instance. He had done so, and the result of his call was to -make him feel that he should not any longer delay his visit to Beatrice. - -Now, as has been said, he felt that he need not have been in such a -hurry. - -"_I should love to go--you will be there_." - -Yes, those were the words that had sprung from her heart. The sequence -of the phrases had not been the result of art or thought. - -He had clearly under-estimated the effect of his own personality upon -an impressionable girl who had a great historian for a father. The days -that he had passed by her side--carrying out the compact which he had -made with Helen Craven--had produced an impression upon her far more -powerful than he had believed it possible to produce within so short a -space of time. - -In short, she was his. - -That is what he felt within an hour of parting from her; and all his -resources of modesty and humility were unequal to the task of changing -his views on this point. - -Was he in love with her? - -He believed her to be the most beautiful woman whom he had ever seen. - - - - -CHAPTER LIII.--ON A SUPREME ASPIRATION. - -|IT was commonly reported that Mr. Durdan had stated with some degree of -publicity that the days of the Government were numbered. - -There were a good many persons who were ready to agree with him before -the month of December had passed; for the agitation on the subject of -Siberia was spreading through the length and breadth of the land. -The active and observant Leader of the Opposition knew the people of -England, Scotland, and perhaps--so far as they allowed themselves to -be understood--of Wales, thoroughly. Of course Ireland was out of the -question altogether. - -Knowing the people so well, he only waited for a sharp frost to open his -campaign. He was well aware that it would be ridiculous to commence an -agitation on the subject of Siberia unless in a sharp frost. To try -to move the constituencies while the water-pipes in their dwellings -remained intact, would be a waste of time. It is when his pipes are -burst that the British householder will join in any agitation that may -be started. The British farmer invariably turns out the Government after -a bad harvest; and there can be but little doubt that a succession of -wet summers would make England republican. - -It was because all the water-pipes in England were burst, that the -atrocities in Bulgaria stirred the great sympathetic heart of this -England of ours, and the strongest Government that had existed for years -became the most unpopular. A strong Government may survive a year of -great commercial depression; but the strongest totters after a wet -summer, and none has ever been known to survive a frost that bursts the -household water-pipes. - -The campaign commenced when the thermometer fell to thirty-two degrees -Fahrenheit. That was the time to be up and doing. In every quarter the -agitation made itself felt. - -"The sympathetic pulse of the nation was not yet stilled," we were -told. "Six years of inefficient Government had failed to crush down the -manhood of England," we were assured. "The Heart was still there--it was -beating still; and wherever the Heart of an Englishman beats there was -found a foe--a determined, resolute foe--nay, an irresistible foe, to -tyranny, and what tyranny had the world ever known that was equal -to that which sent thousands and tens of thousands of noble men and -women--women--women--to a living death among the snows of Siberia? -Could any one present form an idea of the horrors of a Siberian winter?" -(Cries of "Yes, yes," from householders whose water-pipes had burst.) -"Well, in the name of our common humanity--in the name of our common -sympathies--in the name of England (cheers)--England, mind you, with her -fleet, that in spite of six years of gross mismanagement on the part -of the Government, was still the mistress of the main--(loud cheers) -England, mind you, whose armies had survived the shocking incapacity -of a Government that had refused a seven-hours day to the artisans at -Woolwich and Aldershot--(tremendous cheers) in the name of this grand -old England of ours let those who were responsible for Siberia--that -blot upon the map of Europe"--(the agitator is superior to -geography)--"let them be told that their day is over. Let the Government -that can look with callous eyes upon such horrors as are enacted among -the frosts and snows of Siberia be told that its day is over (cheers). -Did anyone wish to know something of these horrors?" ('Yes, yes!') -"Well, here was a book written by a correspondent to a New York journal, -and which, consequently, was entitled to every respect".... and so -forth. - -That was the way the opponents of the Government talked at every -meeting. And in the course of a short time they had successfully mixed -up the labour question, the army and navy retrenchment question, the -agricultural question, and several other questions, with the stories of -Siberian horrors, and the aggregate of evil was laid to the charge of -the Government. - -The friends of the Government were at their wits' end to know how to -reply to this agitation. Some foolish ones endeavoured to make out -that England was not responsible for what was done in Siberia. But this -sophistry was too shallow for the people whose water-pipes were burst, -and those who were responsible for it were hooted on every platform. - -It was at this critical time that the Prime Minister announced at a -Dinner at which he was entertained, that, while the Government was fully -sensible of the claims of Siberia, he felt certain that he was only -carrying out the desire of the people of England, in postponing -consideration of this vast question until a still greater question -had been settled. After long and careful deliberation, Her Majesty's -Ministers had resolved to submit to the country a programme the first -item of which was the Conversion of the Jews. - -The building where this announcement was made rang with cheers. The -friends of the Government no longer looked gloomy. In a few days -they knew that the Nonconformist Conscience would be awake, and as a -political factor, the Nonconformist Conscience cannot be ignored. A -Government that had for its policy the Conversion of the Jews would be -supported by England--this great Christian England of ours. - -"My Lords and Gentlemen," said the Prime Minister, "the contest on which -we are about to enter is very limited in its range. It is a contest of -England and Religion against the Continent and Atheism. My Lords and -Gentlemen, come what may, Her Majesty's Ministers will be on the side of -Religion." - -It was felt that this timely utterance had saved the Government. - -It was not to be expected that, when these tremendous issues were -broadening out, Mr. Edmund Airey should have much time at his disposal -for making afternoon calls; still he managed to visit Beatrice Avon -pretty frequently--much more frequently than he had ever visited anyone -in all his life. The season of German Opera was a brilliant one, and -upon several occasions Beatrice appeared in Mr. Airey's box by the -side of the enthusiastic lady, who was pointed out in society as having -remained in her stall from the beginning to the end of "Parsifal." -Mr. Airey never missed a performance at which Beatrice was present. He -missed all the others. - -Only once did he venture to introduce Harold's name in her drawing-room. -He mentioned having seen him casually in the street, and then he watched -her narrowly as he said, "By the way, I have never come upon him here. -Does he not call upon you?" - -There was only a little brightening of her eyes--was it scorn?--as -she replied: "Is it not natural that Lord Fotheringay should be a very -different person from Mr. Harold Wynne? Oh, no, he never calls now." - -"I have heard several people say that they had found him greatly -changed, poor fellow!" said Edmund. - -"Greatly changed--not ill?" she said. - -He wondered if the tone in which she spoke suggested anxiety--or was it -merely womanly curiosity? - -"Oh, no; he seems all right; but it is clear that his father's death and -the circumstances attending it affected him deeply." - -"It gave him a title at any rate." - -The suspicion of scorn was once more about her voice. Its tone no longer -suggested anxiety for the health of Lord Fotheringay. - -"You are too hard on him, Beatrice," said Edmund. She had come to be -Beatrice to him for more than a week--a week in which he had been twice -in her drawing-room, and in which she had been twice in his opera box. - -"Too hard on him?" said she. "How is it possible for you to judge what -is hard or the opposite on such a point?" - -"I have always liked Harold," said he; "that is why I must stand up for -him." - -"Ah, that is your own kindness of heart," said she. "I remember how you -used to stand up for him at Castle Innisfail. I remember that when you -told me how wretchedly poor he was, you were very bitter against the -destiny that made so good a fellow poor, while so many others, not -nearly so good, were wealthy." - -"I believe I did say something like that. At any rate I felt that. Oh, -yes, I always felt that I must stand up for him; so even now I insist on -your not being too hard on him." - -He laughed, and so did she--yes, after a little pause. - -"Come again--soon," she said, as she gave him her hand, which he -retained for some moments while he looked into her eyes--they were more -than usually lustrous--and said, - -"Oh, yes, I will come again soon. Don't you remember what I said to you -in this room--it seems long ago, we have come to be such close friends -since--what I said about my aspirations--my supreme aspiration?" - -"I remember it," said she--her voice was very low. - -"I have still to reveal it to you, Beatrice," said he. - -Then he dropped her hand and was gone. - -He made another call the same afternoon. He drove westward to the -residence of Helen Craven and her mother, and in the drawing-room he -found about a dozen people drinking tea, for Mrs. Craven had a large -circle. - -It took him some time to get beside Helen; but a very small amount of -manoeuvring on her part was sufficient to secure comparative privacy for -him and herself in a dimly-lighted part of the great room--an alcove -that made a moderately valid excuse for a Moorish arch and hangings. - -"The advice that I gave to you was good," said he. - -"Your advice was that I should make no move whatever," said she. "That -could not be hard advice to take, if he were disposed to make any move -in my direction. But, as I told you, he only called once, and then we -were out. Have you learned anything?" - -"I have learned that whomsoever she marries, she will never marry Harold -Wynne," said Edmund. - -"Great heavens! You have found this out? Are you certain? Men are so apt -to rush at conclusions." - -"Yes; some men are. I have always preferred the crawling process, though -it is the slower." - -"That is a confession--crawling! But how have you found out that she -will not marry him?" - -"He has treated her very badly." - -"That has got nothing whatever to do with the question. Heavens! If -women declined to marry the men that treat them badly, the statistics of -spinsterhood would be far more alarming than they are at present." - -"She will not marry him." - -"Will she marry you?" - -Miss Craven had sprung to her feet. She was in a nervous condition, and -it was intensified by his irritating reiteration of the one statement. - -"Will she marry you?" she cried, in a voice that had a strident ring -about it. "Will she marry you?" - -"I think it highly probable," said he. - -She looked at him in silence for a long time. - -"Let us return to the room," said she. - -They went through the Moorish arch back to the drawing-room. - - - - -CHAPTER LIV.--ON THE DECAY OF THE PAT AS A POWER. - -|IT was a few days after Edmund Airey had made his revelation--if it -was a revelation--to Helen Craven, that Harold received a visitor in -the person of Archie Brown. The second week in January had now come. The -season of German Opera was over, and Parliament was about to assemble; -but neither of these matters was engrossing the attention of Archie. -That he was in a state of excitement anyone could see, and before he had -even asked after Harold's health, he cried, "I've fired out the lot of -them, Harry; that's the sort of new potatoes I am." - -"The lot of what?" asked Harold. - -"Don't you know? Why, the lot of Legitimists," said Archie. - -"The Legitimists? My dear Archie, you don't surely expect me to believe -that you possess sufficient political power to influence the fortunes of -a French dynasty." - -"French dynasty be grilled. I said the Legitimists--the actors, the -carpenters, the gasmen, the firemen, the check-takers, Shakespeare, and -Mrs. Mowbray of the Legitimate Theatre. I've fired out the lot of them, -and be hanged to them!" - -"Oh, I see; you've fired out Shakespeare?" - -"He's eternally fired out, so far as I'm concerned. Why should I end my -days in a workhouse because a chap wrote plays a couple of hundred years -ago--may be more?" - -"Why, indeed? And so you fired him out?" - -"I've made things hum at the Legitimate this morning"--Archie had once -spent three months in the United States--"and now I've made the lot of -them git. I've made W. S. git." - -"And Mrs. Mowbray?" - -"She gits too." - -"She'll do it gracefully. Archie, my man, you're not wanting in -courage." - -"What courage was there needed for that?"--Archie had picked up a quill -pen and was trying, but with indifferent success, to balance it on the -toe of his boot, as he leant back in a chair. "What courage is needed to -tell a chap that's got hold of your watch chain that the time has come -for him to drop it? Great Godfrey! wasn't I the master of the lot of -them? Do you fancy that the manager was my master? Do you fancy that -Mrs. Mowbray was my--I mean, do you think that I'm quite an ass?" - -"Well, no," said Harold--"not quite." - -"Do you suppose that my good old dad had any Scruples about firing out a -crowd of navvies when he found that they didn't pay? Not he. And do you -suppose that I haven't inherited some of his good qualities?" - -"And when does the Legitimate close its doors?" - -"This day week. Those doors have been open too long already. -Seventy-five pounds for the Widow's champagne for the Christmas -week--think of that, Harry. Mrs. Mowbray's friends drink nothing but -Clicquot. She expects me to pay for her entertainments, and calls it -Shakespeare. If you grabbed a chap picking your pocket, and he explained -to the tarty chips at Bow Street that his initials were W. S. would he -get off? Don't you believe it, Harry." - -"Nothing shall induce me." - -"The manager's only claim to have earned his salary is that he has been -at every theatre in London, and has so got the biggest list of people to -send orders to, so as to fill the house nightly. It seems that the most -valuable manager is the one who has the longest list of people who will -accept orders. That's theatrical enterprise nowadays. They say it's the -bicycle that has brought it about." - -"Anyhow you've quarrelled with Mrs. Mowbray? Give me your hand; Archie. -You're a man." - -"Quarrelled with Mrs. Mowbray? It was about time. She went to pat my -head again to-day, when there was a buzz in the manager's office. She -didn't pat my head, Harry--the day is past for pats, and so I told her. -The day is past when she could butter me with her pats. She gave me a -look when I said that--if she could give such looks on the stage she'd -crowd the house--and then she cried, 'Nothing on earth shall induce me -ever to speak to you again.' 'I ask nothing better,' said I. After that -she skipped. I promised Norah that I'd do it, and I have done it." - -"You promised whom?" - -"Norah. Great Godfrey! you don't mean to say that you haven't heard that -Norah Innisfail and I are to be married?" - -"Norah--Innisfail--and--you--you?" - -Harold lay back in his chair and laughed. The idea of the straightlaced -Miss Innisfail marrying Archie Brown seemed very comical to him. - -"What are you laughing about?" said Archie. "You shouldn't laugh, -considering that it was you that brought it about." - -"I? I wish that I had no more to reproach myself with; but I can't for -the life of me see how--" - -"Didn't you get Mrs. Lampson to invite me to Abbeylands, and didn't I -meet Norah there, bless her! At first, do you know, I fancied that I was -getting fond of her mother?" - -"Oh, yes; I can understand that," said Harold, who was fully acquainted -with the systems which Lady Innisfail worked with such success. - -"But, bless your heart! it was all motherly kindness on Lady Innisfail's -part--so she explained when--ah--later on. Then I went with her to Lord -Innisfail's place at Netherford and--well, there's no explaining these -things. Norah is the girl for me! I've felt a better man for knowing -her, Harry. It's not every girl that a chap can say that of--mostly the -other way. Lord Innisfail heard something about the Legitimate business, -and he said that it was about time I gave it up; I agreed with him, and -I've given it up." - -"Archie," said Harold, "you've done a good morning's work. I was going -to advise you never to see Mrs. Mowbray again--never to grant her an -interview--she's an edged tool--but after what you've done, I feel that -it would be a great piece of presumption on my part to offer you any -advice." - -"Do you know what it is?" said Archie, in a low and very confidential -voice: "I'm not quite so sure of her character as I used to be. I know -you always stood up for her." - -"I still believe that she never had more than one lover at a time," said -Harold. - -"Was that seventy-five pound's worth of the Widow swallowed by one lover -in a week?" asked Archie. "Oh, I'm sick of the whole concern. Don't you -mention Shakespeare to me again." - -"I won't," said Harold. "But it strikes me that Shakespeare is like -Madame Roland's Liberty." - -"Whose Liberty?" - -"Madame Roland's." - -"Oh, she's a dressmaker of Bond Street, I suppose. They're all Madames -there. I dare say I've got a bill from her to pay with the rest of them. -Mrs. Mowbray has dealt with them all. Now I'm off. I thought I'd drop -in and tell you all that happened, as you're accountable for my meeting -Norah." - -"You will give her my best regards and warmest congratulations," said -Harold. "Accept the same yourself." - -"You had a good time at their Irish place yourself, hadn't you?" said -Archie. "How was it that you didn't fall in love with Norah when you -were there? That's what has puzzled me. How is it that every tarty chip -didn't want to marry her? Oh, I forgot that you--well, wasn't there a -girl with lovely eyes in Ireland?" - -"You have heard of Irish girls and their eyes," said Harold. - -"She had wonderful gray eyes," said Archie. Harold became grave. "Oh, -yes, Norah has a pair of eyes too, and she keeps them wide open. She -told me a good deal about their party in Ireland. She took it for -granted that you--" - -"Archie," said Harold, "like a good chap don't you ever talk about that -to me again." - -"All right, I'll not," said Archie. "Only, you see, I thought that you -wouldn't mind now, as everyone says that she's going to marry Airey, the -M.P. for some place or other. I knew that you'd be glad to hear that I'd -fired out the Legitimate." - -"So I am--very glad." - -Archie was off, having abandoned as futile his well-meant attempts to -balance the quill on the toe first of one boot, then of the other. - -He was off, and Harold was standing at the window, watching him -gathering up his reins and sending his horses at a pretty fair pace into -the square. - -It had fallen--the blow had fallen. She was going to marry Edmund Airey. - -Could he blame her? - -He felt that he had treated her with a baseness that deserved the -severest punishment--such punishment as was now in her power to inflict. -She had trusted him with all her heart--all her soul. She had given -herself up to him freely, and he had made her the victim of a fraud. -That was how he had repaid her for her trustfulness. - -He did not stir from the window for hours. He thought of her without any -bitterness--all his bitterness was divided between the thoughts of his -own cruelty and the thoughts of Edmund Airey's cleverness. He did not -know which was the more contemptible; but the conclusion to which he -came, after devoting some time to the consideration of the question of -the relative contemptibility of the two, was that, on the whole, Edmund -Airey's cleverness was the more abhorrent. - -But Archie Brown, after leaving St. James's, drove with his customary -rapidity to Connaught Square, to tell of his achievement to Norah. - -Miss Innisfail, while fully recognizing the personal obligations of -Archie to the Shakesperian drama, had agreed with her father that this -devotion should not be an absorbing one. She had had a hint or two that -it absorbed a good deal of money, and though she had been assured by -Archie that no one could say a word against Mrs. Mowbray's character, -yet, like Harold--perhaps even better than Harold--she knew that Mrs. -Mowbray was an extremely well-dressed woman. She listened with interest -to Archie's account of how he had accomplished that process of "firing -out" in regard to the Legitimate artists; and when he had told her all, -she could not help wondering if Mrs. Mowbray would be quite as well -dressed in the future as she had been in the past. - -Archie then went on to tell her how he had called upon Harold, and how -Harold had congratulated him. - -"You didn't forget to tell him that people are saying that Mr. Airey is -going to marry Miss Avon?" said Norah. - -"Have I ever forgotten to carry out one of your commissions?" he asked. - -"Good gracious! You didn't suggest that you were commissioned by me to -tell him that?" - -"Not likely. That's not the sort of new potatoes I am. I was on the -cautious side, and I didn't even mention the name of the girl." He did -not think it necessary to say that the reason for his adoption of this -prudent course was that he had forgotten the name of the girl. "No, but -when I told him that Airey was going to marry her, he gave me a look." - -"A look? What sort of a look?" - -"I don't know. The sort of a look a chap would give to a surgeon who had -just snipped off his leg. Poor old Harry looked a bit cut up. Then he -turned to me and said as gravely as a parson--a bit graver than some -parsons--that he'd feel obliged to me if I'd never mention her name -again." - -"But you hadn't mentioned her name, you said." - -"Neither I had. He didn't mention it either. I can only give you an idea -of what he said, I won't take my oath about the exact words. But I'll -take my oath that he was more knocked down than any chap I ever came -across." - -"I knew it," said Norah. "He's in love with her still. Mamma says he's -not; but I know perfectly well that he is. She doesn't care a scrap for -Mr. Airey." - -"How do you know that?" - -"I know it." - -"Oh." - - - - -CHAPTER LV.--ON SHAKESPEARE AND ARCHIE BROWN. - -|IT was early on the same afternoon that Beatrice Avon received -intimation of a visitor--a lady, the butler said, who gave the name of -Mrs. Mowbray. - -"I do not know any Mrs. Mowbray, but, of course, I'll see her," was the -reply that Beatrice gave to the inquiry if she were at home. - -"Was it possible," she thought, "that her visitor was the Mrs. -Mowbray whose portraits in the character of Cymbeline were in all the -illustrated papers?" - -Before Beatrice, under the impulse of this thought, had glanced at -herself in a mirror--for a girl does not like to appear before a woman -of the highest reputation (for beauty) with hair more awry than is -consistent with tradition--her mind was set at rest. There may have been -many Mrs. Mowbrays in London, but there was only one woman with such a -figure, and such a face. - -She looked at Beatrice with undisguised interest, but without speaking -for some moments. Equally frank was the interest that was apparent -on the face of Beatrice, as she went forward to meet and to greet her -visitor. - -She had heard that Mrs. Mowbray's set of sables had cost -someone--perhaps even Mrs. Mowbray herself--seven hundred guineas. - -"Thank you, I will not sit down," said Mrs. Mowbray. "I feel that I must -apologize for this call." - -"Oh, no," said Beatrice. - -"Oh, yes; I should," said Mrs. Mowbray. "I will do better, however, for -I will make my visit a short one. The fact is, Miss Avon, I have heard -so much about you during the past few months from--from--several people, -I could not help being interested in you--greatly interested indeed." - -"That was very kind of you," said Beatrice, wondering what further -revelation was coming. - -"I was so interested in you that I felt I must call upon you. I used to -know Lady Innisfail long ago." - -"Was it Lady Innisfail who caused you to be interested in me?" asked -Beatrice. - -"Well, not exactly," said Mrs. Mowbray; "but it was some of Lady -Innisfail's guests--some who were entertained at the Irish Castle. -I used also to know Mrs. Lampson--Lord Fotheringay's daughter. How -terrible the blow of his death must have been to her and her brother." - -"I have not seen Mrs. Lampson since," said Beatrice, "but--" - -"You have seen the present Lord Fotheringay? Will you let me say that -I hope you have seen him--that you still see him? Do not think me -a gossiping, prying old woman--I suppose I am old enough to be your -mother--for expressing the hope that you will see him, Miss Avon. He is -the best man on earth." - -Beatrice had flushed the first moment that her visitor had alluded to -Harold. Her flush had not decreased. - -"I must decline to speak with you on the subject of Lord Fotheringay, -Mrs. Mowbray," said Beatrice, somewhat unequally. - -"Do not say that," said Mrs. Mowbray, in the most musical of pleading -tones. "Do not say that. You would make me feel how very gross has been -my effrontery in coming to you." - -"No, no; please do not think that," cried Beatrice, yielding, as every -human being could not but yield, to the lovely voice and the gracious -manner of Mrs. Mowbray. What would be resented as a gross piece of -insolence on the part of anyone else, seemed delicately gracious coming -from Mrs. Mowbray. Her insolence was more acceptable than another -woman's compliment. She knew to what extent she could draw upon her -resources, both as regards men and women. It was only in the case of a -young cub such as Archie that she now and again overrated her powers of -fascination. She knew that she would never pat Archie's red head again. - -"Yes, you will let me speak to you, or I shall feel that you regard my -visit as an insolent intrusion." - -Beatrice felt for the first time in her life that she could fully -appreciate the fable of the Sirens. She felt herself hypnotized by that -mellifluous voice--by the steady sympathetic gaze of the lovely eyes -that were resting upon her face. - -"He is so fond of you," Mrs. Mowbray went on. "There is no lover's -quarrel that will not vanish if looked at straight in the face. Let -me look at yours, my dear child, and I will show you how that demon -of distrust can be exorcised." Beatrice had become pale. The word -_distrust_ had broken the spell of the Siren. - -"Mrs. Mowbray," said she, "I must tell you again that on no -consideration--on no pretence whatever shall I discuss Lord Fotheringay -with you." - -"Why not with me, my child?" said Mrs. Mowbray. "Because I distrust -you--no I don't mean that. I only mean that--that you have given me no -reason to trust you. Why have you come to me in this way, may I ask -you? It is not possible that you came here on the suggestion of Lord -Fotheringay." - -"No; I only came to see what sort of girl it is that Mr. Airey is going -to marry," said Mrs. Mowbray, with a wicked little smile. - -Beatrice was no longer pale. She stood with clenched hands before Mrs. -Mowbray, with her eyes fixed upon her face. - -Then she took a step toward the bell rope. "One moment," said Mrs. -Mowbray. "Do you expect to marry Edmund Airey?" - -Beatrice turned, and looked again at her visitor. If the girl had been -less feminine she would have gone on to the bell rope, and have pulled -it gently. She did nothing of the sort. She gave a laugh, and said, "I -shall marry him if I please." - -She was feminine. - -So was Mrs. Mowbray. - -"Will you?" she said. "Do you fancy for a moment--are you so infatuated -that you can actually fancy that I--I--Gwendoline Mowbray, will allow -you--you--to take Edmund Airey away from me? Oh, the child is mad--mad!" - -"Do you mean to tell me," said Beatrice, coming close to her, "that -Edmund Airey is--is--a lover of yours?" - -"Ah," said Mrs. Mowbray, smiling, "you do not live in our world, my -child." - -"No, I do not," said Beatrice. "I now see why you have come to me -to-day." - -"I told you why." - -"Yes; you told me. Edmund Airey has been your lover." - -"_Has been?_ My child, it is only when I please that a lover of mine -becomes associated with a past tense. I have not yet allowed Edmund -Airey to associate with my 'have beens.' It was from him that I learned -all about you. He alluded to you in his letters to me from Ireland -merely as 'a gray eye or so.' You still mean to marry him?" - -"I still mean to do what I please," said Beatrice. She had now reached -the bell rope and she pulled it very gently. - -"You are an extremely beautiful young person," said Mrs. Mowbray. "But -you have not been able to keep close to you a man like Harold Wynne--a -man with a perfect genius for fidelity. And yet you expect--" - -Here the door was opened by the butler. Mrs. Mowbray allowed her -sentence to dwindle away into the conventionalities of leave-taking with -a stranger. - -Beatrice found herself standing with flushed cheeks and throbbing heart -at the door through which her visitor had passed. - -It was somewhat remarkable that the most vivid impression which she -retained of the rather exciting series of scenes in which she had -participated, was that Mrs. Mowbray's sables were incomparably the -finest that she had ever seen. - -Mrs. Mowbray could scarcely have driven round the great square before -the butler inquired if Miss Avon was at home to Miss Innisfail. In -another minute Norah Innisfail was embracing her with the warmth of a -true-hearted girl who comes to tell another of her engagement to marry -an eligible man, or a handsome man, let him be eligible or otherwise. - -"I want to be the first to give you the news, my dearest Beatrice," said -Norah. "That is why I came alone. I know you have not heard the news." - -"I hear no news, except about things that do not interest me in the -least," said Beatrice. - -"My news concerns myself," said Norah. - -"Then it's sure to interest me," cried Beatrice. - -"It's so funny! But yet it's very serious," said Norah. "The fact is -that I'm going to marry Archie Brown." - -"Archie Brown?" said Beatrice. "I hope he is the best man in the -world--he should be, to deserve you, my dear Norah." - -"I thought perhaps you might have known him," said Norah. "I find that -there are a good many people still who do not know Archie Brown, -in spite of the Legitimate Theatre and all that he has done for -Shakespeare." - -"The Legitimate Theatre. Is that where Mrs. Mowbray acts?" - -"Only for another week. Oh, yes, Archie takes a great interest in -Shakespeare. He meant the Legitimate Theatre to be a monument to the -interest he takes in Shakespeare, and so it would have been, if the -people had only attended properly, as they should have done. Archie is -very much disappointed, of course; but he says, very rightly, that the -Lord Chamberlain isn't nearly particular enough in the plays that he -allows to be represented, and so the public have lost confidence in the -theatres--they are never sure that something objectionable will not be -played--and go to the Music Halls, which can always be trusted. Archie -says he'll turn the Legitimate into a Music Hall--that is, if he can't -sell the lease." - -"Whether he does so or not, I congratulate you with all my heart, my -dearest Norah." - -"If you had come down to Abbeylands in time--before that awful thing -happened--you would have met Archie. We met him there. Mamma took a -great fancy to him at once, and I think that I must have done the same. -At any rate I did when he came to stay with us. He's such a good fellow, -with red hair--not the sort that the old Venetian painters liked, but -another sort. Strictly speaking some of his features--his mouth, for -instance--are too large, but if you look at him in one position, when -he has his face turned away from you, he's quite--quite--ah--quite -curious--almost nice. You'll like him, I know." - -"I'm sure of it," said Beatrice. - -"Yes; and he's such a friend of Harold Wynne's," continued the -artful Norah. "Why, what's the matter with you, Beatrice? You are as -pale--dearest Beatrice, you and I were always good friends. You know -that I always liked Harold." - -"Do not talk about him, Norah." - -"Why should I not talk about him? Tell me that." - -"He is gone--gone away." - -"Not he. He's too wretched to go away anywhere. Archie was with him -to-day, and when he heard that--well, the way some people are talking -about you and Mr. Airey, he had not a word to throw to a dog--Archie -told me so." - -"Oh, do not talk of him, Norah." - -"Why should I not?" - -"Because--ah, because he's the only one worth talking about, and now -he's gone from me, and I'll never see him again--never, never again!" -Before she had come to the end of her sentence, Beatrice was lying -sobbing on the unsympathetic cushion of the sofa--the same cushion that -had absorbed her tears when she had told Harold to leave her. - -"My dearest Beatrice," whispered Norah, kneeling beside her, with her -face also down a spare corner of the cushion, "I have known how you were -moping here alone. I've come to take you away. You'll come down with us -to our place at Netherford. There's a lake with ice on it, and there's -Archie, and many other pretty things. Oh, yes, you'll come, and we'll -all be happy." - -"Norah," cried Beatrice, starting up almost wildly, "Mr. Airey will be -here in half an hour to ask me to marry him. He wrote to say that he -would be here, and I know what he means." Mr. Airey did call in half an -hour, and he found Beatrice--as he felt certain she should--waiting to -receive him, wearing a frock that he admired, and lace that he approved -of. - -But in the meantime Beatrice and Norah had had a few words together -beyond those just recorded. - - - - -CHAPTER LVI.--ON THE BITTER CRY. - -|EDMUND AIREY drank his cup of tea which Beatrice poured out for him, -and while doing so, he told her of the progress that was being made -by the agitation of the Opposition and the counter agitation of the -Government. There was no disguising the fact that the country--like the -fool that it was--had been caught by the bitter cry from Siberia. There -was nothing like a bitter cry, Edmund said, for catching hold of -the country. If any cry was only bitter enough it would succeed. -Fortunately, however, the Government, in its appeal against the Atheism -of the Continent, had also struck a chord that vibrated through the -length and breadth of England and Scotland. The Government orators were -nightly explaining that no really sincere national effort had ever been -made to convert the Jews. To be sure, some endeavours had been made from -time to time to effect this great object--in the days of Isaac of York -the gridiron and forceps had been the auxiliaries of the Church to bring -about the conversion of the Hebrew race; and, more recently, the potent -agency of drawing-room meetings and a house-to-house collection had been -resorted to; but the results had been disappointing. Statistics were -forthcoming--nothing impresses the people of Great Britain more than a -long array of figures, Edmund Airey explained--to show that, whereas, on -any part of the West coast of Africa where rum was not prohibited, for -one pound sterling 348 negroes could be converted--the rate was 0.01 -where rum was prohibited--yet for a subscription of five pounds, one -could only depend on 0.31 of the Jewish race--something less than half -an adult Hebrew--being converted. The Government orators were asking how -long so scandalous a condition of affairs was to be allowed to continue, -and so forth. - -Oh, yes, he explained, things were going on merrily. In three days -Parliament would meet, and the Opposition had drafted their Amendment -to the Address, "That in the opinion of this House no programme of -legislation can be considered satisfactory that does not include a -protest against the horrors daily enacted in Siberia." - -If this Amendment were carried it would, of course, be equivalent to -a Vote of Censure upon the Government, and the Ministers would be -compelled to resign, Edmund explained to Beatrice. - -She was very attentive, and when he had completed a clever account of -the political machinery by which the operations of the Nonconformist -Conscience are controlled, she said quietly, "My sympathies are -certainly with Siberia. I hope you will vote for that Amendment." - -He laughed in his superior way. - -"That is so like a girl," said he. "You are carried away by your -sympathies of the moment. You do not wait to reason out any question." - -"I dare say you are right," said she, smiling. "Our conscience is not -susceptible of those political influences to which you referred just -now." - -"'They are dangerous guides--the feelings'," said he, "at least from a -standpoint of politics." - -"But there are, thank God, other standpoints in the world from which -humanity may be viewed," said she. - -"There are," said he. "And I also join with you in saying, 'thank God!' -Do you fancy that I am here to-day--that I have been here so frequently -during the past two months, from a political motive, Beatrice?" - -"I cannot tell," she replied. "Have you not just said that the feelings -are dangerous guides?" - -"They lead one into danger," said he. "There can be no doubt about -that." - -"Have you ever allowed them to lead you?" she asked, with another smile. - -"Only once, and that is now," said he. "With you I have thrown away -every guide but my feelings. A few months ago I could not have believed -it possible that I should do so. But with God and Woman all things -are possible. That is why I am here to-day to ask you if you think it -possible that you could marry me." - -She had risen to her feet, not by a sudden impulse, but slowly. She was -not looking at him. Her eyes were fixed upon some imaginary point beyond -him. She was plainly under the influence of some very strong feeling. A -full minute had passed before she said, "You should not have come to me -with that request, Mr. Airey. - -"Why should I not? Do you think that I am here through any other impulse -than that of my feelings?" - -"How can I tell?" she said, and now she was looking at him. "How can I -tell which you hold dearer--political advancement, or my love?" - -"How can you doubt me for a moment, Beatrice?" he said -reproachfully--almost mournfully. "Why am I waiting anxiously for your -acceptance of my offer, if I do not hold your love more precious than -all other considerations in the world?" - -"Do you so hold it?" - -"Indeed I do." - -"Then I have told you that my sympathies are altogether with Siberia. -Vote for the Amendment of the Opposition." - -"What can you mean, Beatrice?" - -"I mean that if you vote for the Amendment, you will have shown me that -you are capable of rising above mere party considerations. I don't make -this the price of my love, remember. I don't make any compact to marry -you if you adopt the course that I suggest. I only say that you will -have proved to me that your words are true--that you hold something -higher than political expediency." - -She looked at him. - -He looked at her. - -There was a long pause. - -"You are unreasonable. I cannot do it," he said. - -"Good-bye," said she. - -He looked at the hand which she had thrust out to him, but he did not -take it. - -"You really mean me to vote against my party?" said he. - -"What other way can you prove to me that you are superior to party -considerations?" said she. - -"It would mean self-effacement politically," said he. "Oh, you do not -appreciate the gravity of the thing." - -He turned abruptly away from her and strode across the room. - -She remained silent where he had left her. - -"I did not think you capable of so cruel a caprice as this," he -continued, from the fireplace. "You do not understand the consequences -of my voting against my party." - -"Perhaps I do not," said she. "But I have given you to understand the -consequences of not doing so." - -"Then we must part," said he, approaching her. "Good-bye," said she, -once more. - -He took her hand this time. He held it for a moment irresolutely, then -he dropped it. - -"Are you really in earnest, Beatrice?" said he. "Do you really mean to -put me to this test?" - -"I never was more in earnest in my life," said she. "Think over the -matter--let me entreat of you to think over it," he said, earnestly. - -"And you will think over it also?" - -"Yes, I will think over it. Oh, Beatrice, do not allow yourself to be -carried away by this caprice. It is unworthy of you." - -"Do not be too hard on me, I am only a woman," said she, very meekly. - -She was only a woman. He felt that very strongly as he walked away. - -And yet he had told Harold that he had great hope of Woman, by reason of -her femininity. - -And yet he had told Harold that he understood Woman and her motives. - -"Papa," said Beatrice, from the door of the historian's study. "Papa, -Mr. Edmund Airey has just been here to ask me to marry him." - -"That's right, my dear," said the great historian. "Marry him, or anyone -else you please, only run away and play with your dolls now. I'm very -busy." - -This was precisely the answer that Beatrice expected. It was precisely -the answer that anyone might have expected from a man who permitted such -a _ménage_ as that which prevailed under his roof. - - - - -CHAPTER LVII.--ON THE REJECTED ADDRESSES. - -|THE next day Beatrice went with Norah Innisfail and her mother to their -home in Nethershire. Two days afterwards the Legitimate Theatre closed -its doors, and Parliament opened its doors. The Queen's Speech was read, -and a member of the Opposition moved the Amendment relating to Siberia. -The Debate on the Address began. - -On the second night of the debate Edmund Airey called at the historian's -house and, on asking for Miss Avon, learned that she was visiting -Lady Innisfail in Nethershire. On the evening of the fourth day of the -debate--the Division on the Amendment was to be taken that night--he -drove in great haste to the same house, and learned that Miss Avon was -still in Nethershire, but that she was expected home on the following -day. - -He partook of a hasty dinner at his club, and, writing out a telegram, -gave it to a hall-porter to send to the nearest telegraph office. - -The form was addressed to Miss Avon, in care of Lord Innisfail, -Netherford Hall, Netherford, Nethershire, and it contained the following -words, "_I will do it. Edmund_." - -He did it. - -He made a brief speech amid the cheers of the Opposition and the howls -of the Government party, acknowledging his deep sympathy with the -unhappy wretches who were undergoing the unspeakable horrors of a -Siberian exile, and thus, he said he felt compelled, on conscientious -grounds (ironical cheers from the Government) to vote for the Amendment. - -He went into the lobby with the Opposition. - -It was an Irish member who yelled out "Judas!" - -The Government was defeated by a majority of one vote, and there was a -"scene" in the House. - -Some time ago an enterprising person took up his abode in the midst -of an African jungle, in order to study the methods by which baboons -express themselves. He might have spared himself that trouble, if he had -been present upon the occasion of a "scene" in the House of Commons. -He would, from a commanding position in the Strangers' Gallery, have -learned all that he had set his heart upon acquiring--and more. - -It was while the "scene" was being enacted that Edmund Airey had put -into his hand the telegraph form written out by himself in his club. - -"_Telegraph Office at Netherford closes at 6 p.m_.," were the words that -the hall-porter had written on the back of the form. - -The next day he drove to the historian's, and inquired if Miss Avon had -returned. - -She was in the drawing-room, the butler said. - -With triumph--a sort of triumph--in his heart, and on his face, he -ascended the staircase. - -He thought that he had never before seen her look so beautiful. Surely -there was triumph on her face as well! It was glowing, and her eyes were -more lustrous even than usual. She had plainly just returned, for she -had on a travelling dress. - -"Beatrice, you saw the newspapers? You saw that I have done it?" he -cried, exultantly. - -"Done what?" she inquired. "I have seen no newspaper to-day." - -"What? Is it possible that you have not heard that I voted last night -for the Amendment?" he cried. - -"I heard nothing," she replied. - -"I wrote a telegram last evening, telling you that I meant to do it, but -it appears that the office at Netherford closes at six, so it could -not be sent. I did not know how much you were to me until yesterday, -Beatrice." - -"Stop," she said. "I was married to Harold Wynne an hour ago." - -He looked at her for some moments, and then dropped into a chair. - -"You have made a fool of me," he said. - -"No," she said. "I could not do that. If I had got your telegram in time -last evening I would have replied to it, telling you that, whatever step -you took, it would not bring you any nearer to me. Harold Wynne, you -see, came to me again. I had promised to marry him when we were together -at that seal-hunt, but--well, something came between us." - -"And you revenged yourself upon me? You made a fool of me!" - -"If I had tried to do so, would it have been remarkable, Mr. Airey? -Supposing that I had been made a fool of by the compact into which you -entered with Miss Craven, who would have been to blame? Was there ever a -more shameful compact entered into by a clever man and a clever woman to -make a victim of a girl who believed that the world was overflowing -with sincerity? I was made acquainted with the nature of that compact of -yours, Mr. Airey, but I cannot say that I have yet learned what are the -terms of your compact--or is it a contract?--with Mrs. Mowbray. Still, I -know something. And yet you complain that I have made a fool of you." - -He had completely recovered himself before she had got to the end of her -little speech. He had wondered how on earth she had become acquainted -with the terms of his compact with Helen. When, however, she referred -to Mrs. Mowbray, he felt sure that it was Mrs. Mowbray who had betrayed -him. - -He was beginning to learn something of women and their motives. - -"Nothing is likely to be gained by this sort of recrimination," said he, -rising. "You have ruined my career." - -She laughed, not bitterly but merrily, he knew all along that she had -never fully appreciated the gravity of the step which she had compelled -him--that was how he put it--to take. She had not even had the interest -to glance at a newspaper to see how he had voted. But then she had -not read the leading articles in the Government organs which were -plentifully besprinkled with his name printed in small capitals. That -was his one comforting thought. - -She laughed. - -"Oh, no, Mr. Airey," said she. "Your career is not ruined. Clever men -are not so easily crushed, and you are a very clever man--so clever as -to be able to make me clever, if that were possible." - -"You have crushed me," he said. "Good-bye." - -"If I wished to crush you I should have married you," said she. "No -woman can crush a man unless she is married to him. Good-bye." - -The butler opened the door. "Is my husband in yet?" she asked of the -man. - -"His lordship has not yet returned, my lady," said the butler, who had -once lived in the best families--far removed from literature--and who -was, consequently, able to roll off the titles with proper effect. - -"Then you will not have an opportunity of seeing him, I'm afraid," she -said, turning to Mr. Airey. - -"I think I already said good-bye, Lady Fotheringay." - -"I do believe that you did. If I did not, however, I say it now. -Good-bye, Mr. Airey." - -He got into a hansom and drove straight to Helen Craven's house. It was -the most dismal drive he had ever had. He could almost fancy that the -message boys in the streets were, in their accustomed high spirits, -pointing to him with ridicule as the man who had turned his party out of -office. - -Helen Craven was in her boudoir. She liked receiving people in that -apartment. She understood its lights. - -He found that she had read the newspapers. - -She stared at him as he entered, and gave him a limp hand. - -"What on earth did you mean by voting--" she began. - -"You may well ask," said he. "I was a fool. I was made a fool of by that -girl. She made me vote against my party." - -"And she refuses to marry you now?" - -"She married Harold Wynne an hour ago." - -Helen Craven did not fling herself about when she heard this piece of -news. She only sat very rigid on her little sofa. - -"Yes," resumed Edmund. "She is ill-treated by one man, but she marries -him, and revenges herself upon another! Isn't that like a woman? She has -ruined my career." - -Then it was that Helen Craven burst into a long, loud, and very -unmusical laugh--a laugh that had a suspicion of a shrill shriek about -some of its tones. When she recovered, her eyes were full of the tears -which that paroxysm of laughter had caused. - -"You are a fool, indeed!" said she. "You are a fool if you cannot see -that your career is just beginning. People are talking of you to-day -as the Conscientious One--the One Man with a Conscience. Isn't the -reputation for a Conscience the beginning of success in England?" - -"Helen," he cried, "will you marry me? With our combined money we can -make ourselves necessary to any party. Will you marry me?" - -"I will," she said. "I will marry you with pleasure--now. I will marry -anyone--now." - -"Give me your hand, Helen," he cried. "We understand one another--that -is enough to start with. And as for that other--oh, she is nothing but a -woman after all!" - -He never spoke truer words. - -But sometimes when he is alone he thinks that she treated him badly. - -Did she? - -THE END. - - - - - - - - - -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 51946-8.txt or 51946-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/9/4/51946/ - -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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - 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. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - |