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diff --git a/old/51947-8.txt b/old/51947-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index b95ee50..0000000 --- a/old/51947-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13327 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's A Gray Eye or So, Complete, 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, Complete - In Three Volumes--Volume I, II and III: Complete - -Author: Frank Frankfort Moore - -Release Date: May 2, 2016 [EBook #51947] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GRAY EYE OR SO, COMPLETE *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - - - - -A GRAY EYE OR SO - -By Frank Frankfort Moore - -Author of "I Forbid The Banns," "Dalreen," "Sojourners Together," -"Highways And High Seas," Etc. - -In Three Volumes Complete: Volumes I, II and III - -Sixth Edition - -London: Hutchinson & Co., 34 Paternoster Row - - -1893 - - -[Illustration: 0007] - - - - - -A GRAY EYE OR SO, Volume I - - - - -CHAPTER I.--ON CERTAIN ABSTRACTIONS. - - -I WAS talking about woman in the abstract," said Harold. - -The other, whose name was Edmund--his worst enemies had never -abbreviated it--smiled, lifted his eyes unto the hills as if in search -of something, frowned as if he failed to find it, smiled a cat's-paw of -a smile--a momentary crinkle in the region of the eyes--twice his lips -parted as if he were about to speak; then he gave a laugh--the laugh of -a man who finds that for which he has been searching. - -"Woman in the abstract?" said he. "Woman in the abstract? My dear -Harold, there is no such thing as woman in the abstract. When you talk -about Woman enthusiastically, you are talking about the woman you love; -when you talk about Woman cynically, you are talking about the woman who -won't love you." - -"Maybe your honours never heard tell of Larry O'Leary?" said the -Third--for there was a Third, and his name was Brian; his duty was to -row the boat, and this duty he interpreted by making now and again an -elaborate pretence of rowing, which deceived no one. - -"That sounds well," said Harold; "but do you want it to be applied? -Do you want a test case of the operation of your epigram--if it is an -epigram?" - -"A test case?" - -"Yes; I have heard you talk cynically about woman upon occasions. Does -that mean that you have been unloved by many?" - -Again the man called Edmund looked inquiringly up the purple slope of -the hill. - -"You're a wonderful clever gentleman," said Brian, as if communing with -himself, "a wonderful gentleman entirely! Isn't he after casting his -eyes at the very spot where old Larry kept his still?" - -"No," said Edmund; "I have never spoken cynically of women. To do so -would be to speak against my convictions. I have great hope of Woman." - -"Yes; our mothers and sisters are women," said Harold. "That makes -us hopeful of women. Now we are back in the wholesome regions of the -abstract once more, so that we have talked in a circle and are precisely -where we started, only that I have heard for the first time that you are -hopeful of Woman." - -"That's enough for one day," said Edmund. - -"Quite," said Harold. - -"You must know that in the old days the Excise police looked after the -potheen--the Royal Irish does it now," said the Third. "Well, as I say, -in the old days there was a reward of five pounds given by the Excisemen -for the discovery of a private still. Now Larry had been a regular hero -at transforming the innocent smiling pratie into the drink that's the -curse of the country, God bless it! But he was too wary a lad for the -police, and he rolled keg after keg down the side of Slieve Gorm. At -last the worm of his still got worn out--they do wear out after a dozen -years or so of stiff work--and people noticed that Larry was wearing out -too, just through thinking of where he'd get the three pound ten to buy -the new machinery. They tried to cheer him up, and the decent boys was -so anxious to give him heart that there wasn't such a thing as a sober -man to be found in all the country side. But though the brave fellows -did what they could for him, it was no use. He never got within three -pound five of the three pound ten that he needed. But just as things was -at their worst, they mended. Larry was his old self again, and the word -went round that the boys might get sober by degrees. - -"Now what did our friend Larry do, if you please, but take his old -worn-out still and hide it among the heather of the hill fornenst -us--Slieve Glas is its name--and then he goes the same night to the -Excise officer, in the queer secret way. - -"'I'm in a bad way for money, or it's not me that would be after turning -informer,' says he, when he had told the officer that he knew where the -still was concealed. - -"'That's the worst of you all,' says the officer. 'You'll not inform on -principle, but only because you're in need of money.' - -"'More's the pity, sir,' says Larry. - -"'Where's the still?' says the officer. - -"'If I bring you to it,' says Larry, 'it must be kept a dead secret, for -the owner is the best friend I have in the world.' - -"'You're a nice chap to inform on your best friend,' says the officer. - -"'I'll never be able to look at him straight in the face after, and -that's the truth,' says Larry. - -"Well, your honours, didn't Larry lead the officer and a couple of the -Excisemen up the hill in the dark of the early morning, and sure enough -they came upon the old still, hid among the heather. It was captured, -and Larry got the five pound reward, and was able to buy a brand-new -still with the money, besides having thirty shillings to the good in his -pocket. After that, was it any wonder that he became one of the greatest -informers in the country? By the Powers, he made a neat thing out of -the business of leading the officers to his own stills and pocketing the -reward. He was thirty shillings to the good every time. Ah, Larry was a -boy!" - -"So I judge," said the man called Edmund, with an unaffected laugh--he -had studied the art of being unaffected. "But you see, it was not of the -Man but of the Woman we were talking." - -"That's why I thought that the change would be good for your honours," -remarked Brian. "When gentlemen that I've out in this boat with me, -begin to talk together in a way that has got no sense in it at all, I -know that they're talking about a woman, and I tell them the story of -Larry O'Leary." - -Neither the man called Edmund, nor the man called Harold, talked any -more that day upon Woman as a topic. - - - - -CHAPTER II.--ON A GREAT HOPE. - -I THINK you remarked that you had great hope of Woman," said Harold, -the next day. The boat had drifted once again into the centre of the -same scene, and there seemed to be a likelihood of at least two of the -boat's company drifting back to the topic of the previous afternoon. - -"Yes, you certainly admitted that you had great hope of Woman." - -"And so I have. Woman felt, long ago; she is beginning to feel again." - -"You don't think that feeling is being educated out of her? I certainly -have occasional suspicions that this process is going on. Why, just -think of the Stafford girl. She can tell you at a moment's notice -the exact difference between an atheist, an infidel, an agnostic, a -freethinker, and the Honest Doubter." - -"She has been reading modern fiction--that's all. No, I don't think that -what is called education makes much difference to a woman. After all, -what does this thing called education mean? It simply means that a girl -can read all the objectionable passages of the ancient poets without the -need of a translation. I have hope of Woman because she is frequently so -intensely feminine." - -"Maybe you never heard tell of how the Widdy MacDermott's cabin came to -be a ruin," said the Third. - -"Feeling and femininity will, shall I say, transform woman into our -ideal?" said Harold. - -"Transform is too strong a word," said Edmund. "And as for our ideal, -well, every woman is the ideal of some man for a time." - -"And that truth shows not only how lowly is the ideal of some men, but -also how unwise it is to attempt to speak of woman in the abstract. I -begin to think that what you said yesterday had a grain of truth in it, -though it was an epigram." - -"The Widdy MacDermott--oh, the Widdy Mac-Dermott," said the Third, as -though repeating the burden of a ballad. "They made a pome about her -in Irish, that was near as full of nonsense as if it had been in the -English. You see when Tim, her husband, went to glory he left the cow -behind him, taking thought for the need of his widdy, though she hadn't -been a widdy when he was acquainted with her. Well, your honours, the -byre was a trifle too near the edge of the bog hole, so that when one -end fell out, there wasn't much of the mud walls that stood. Then one -blessed morning the childer came running into the cabin to tell their -mother that the cow was sitting among the ruins of its home." - -"A Marius of the farmyard," remarked Edmund. - -"Likely enough, sir. Anyhow, there she sat as melancholy as if she was -a Christian. Of course, as the winter was well for'ard it wouldn't do to -risk her life by leaving her to wander about the bogs, so they drove -her into the cabin--it was a tight fit for her, passing through the -door--she could just get in and nothing to spare; but when she was -inside it was warm and comfortable that the same cow made the cabin, -and the childer were wondering at the end of a month how they could -have been such fools as to shiver through the winter while the cow was -outside. - -"In another month some fine spring days came, and the cabin was a bit -close and stuffy with the cow inside, and the widdy herself turned the -animal's head to the door and went to drive her out for exercise and -ventilation. But the way the beast had been fed and petted told upon -her, and by the Powers, if she didn't stick fast in the doorway. - -"They leathered her in the cabin and they coaxed her from outside, but -it was all of no use. The craythur stood jammed in the door, while the -childer crawled in and out of the cabin among her hind legs--the fore -legs was half a cow's length outside. That was the situation in the -middle of the day, and all the neighbours was standing round giving -advice, and calling in to the widdy herself--who, of course, was a -prisoner in the cabin--not to lose heart. - -"'It's not heart I'm afeard of losing--it's the cow,' says she. - -"Well, your honours, the evening was coming on, but no change in the -situation of affairs took place, and the people of the country-side was -getting used to the appearance of the half cow projecting beyond the -door of the cabin, and to think that maybe, after all, it was nothing -outside the ordinary course of events, when Barney M'Bratney, who does -the carpentering at the Castle, came up the road. - -"He took in the situation with the glance of the perfessional man, and -says he, 'By the Powers, its a case of the cow or the cabin. Which would -ye rather be after losing, Widdy?' - -"'The cabin by all means,' says she. - -"'You're right, my good woman,' says he. 'Come outside with you.' - -"Well, your honours, the kindly neighbours hauled the widdy outside over -the back of the cow, and then with a crowbar Barney attacked the walls -on both sides of the door. In ten minutes the cow was free, but the -cabin was a wreck. - -"Of course his lardship built it up again stronger than it ever was, -but as he wouldn't make the door wide enough to accommodate the cow--he -offered to build a byre for her, but that wasn't the same--he has never -been so respected as he was before in the neighbourhood of Ballyboreen." - -"That's all very well as a story," said Edmund; "but you see we were -talking on the subject of the advantages of the higher education of -woman." - -"True for you, sir," said Brian. "And if the Widdy MacDermott had been -born with eddication would she have let her childer to sleep with the -cow?" - -"Harold," said Edmund, "there are many side lights upon the general -question of the advantages of culture in women." - -"And the story of the Widdy MacDermott is one of them?" said Harold. - -"When I notice that gentlemen that come out in the boat with me begin -to talk on contentious topics, I tell them the story of how the Widdy -MacDermott's cabin was wrecked," said Brian. - - - - -CHAPTER III.--ON HONESTY AND THE WORKING MAN. - -DON'T you think," remarked Edmund, the next day, as the boat drifted -under the great cliffs, and Brian was discharging with great ability -his normal duty of resting on his oars. "Don't you think that you should -come to business without further delay?" - -"Come to business?" said Harold. - -"Yes. Two days ago you lured me out in this coracle to make a -communication to me that I judged would have some bearing upon your -future course of life. You began talking of Woman with a touch of -fervour in your voice. You assured me that you were referring only to -woman in the abstract, and when I convinced you--I trust I convinced -you--that woman in the abstract has no existence, you got frightened--as -frightened as a child would be, if the thing that it has always -regarded as a doll were to wink suddenly, suggesting that it had an -individuality, if not a distinction of its own--that it should no longer -be included among the vague generalities of rags and bran. Yesterday you -began rather more boldly. The effects of education upon the development -of woman, the probability that feeling would survive an intimate -acquaintance with Plato in the original. Why not take another onward -step today? In short, who is she?" - -Harold laughed--perhaps uneasily. - -"I'm not without ambition," said he. - -"I know that. What form does your ambition take? A colonial judgeship, -after ten years of idleness at the bar? A success in literature that -shall compensate you for the favourable criticisms of double that -period? The ownership of the Derby winner? An American heiress, moving -in the best society in Monte Carlo? A co-respondency in brackets with a -Countess? All these are the legitimate aspirations of the modern man." - -"Co-respondency as a career has, no doubt, much to recommend it to some -tastes," said Harold. "It appears to me, however, that it would be easy -for an indiscreet advocate to over-estimate its practical value." - -"You haven't been thinking about it?" - -"You see, I haven't yet met the countess." - -"What, then, in heaven's name do you hope for?" - -"Well, I would say Parliament, if I could be sure that that came within -the rather narrow restrictions which you assigned to my reply. You said -'in heaven's name.'" - -"Parliament! Parliament! Great Powers! is it so bad as that with you?" - -"I don't say that it is. I may be able to get over this ambition as I've -got over others--the stroke oar in the Eight, for instance, the soul of -Sarasate, the heart of Miss Polly Floss of the Music Halls. Up to the -present, however, I have shown no sign of parting with the surviving -ambition of many ambitions." - -"I don't say that you're a fool," said the man called Edmund. He did not -speak until the long pause, filled up by the great moan of the Atlantic -in the distance and the hollow fitful plunge of the waters upon the -rocks of the Irish shore, had become awkwardly long. "I can't say that -you're a fool." - -"That's very good of you, old chap." - -"No; I can't conscientiously say that you're a fool." - -"Again? This is becoming cloying. If I don't mistake, you yourself do a -little in the line I suggest." - -"What would be wisdom--comparative wisdom--on my part, might be -idiotcy--" - -"Comparative idiotcy?" - -"Sheer idiotcy, on yours. I have several thousands a year, and I can -almost--not quite--but I affirm, almost, afford to talk honestly to the -Working man. No candidate for Parliament can quite afford to be honest -to the Working man." - -"And the Working man returns the compliment, only he works it off on the -general public," said Harold. - -The other man smiled pityingly upon him--the smile of the professor of -anatomy upon the student who identifies a thigh bone--the smile which -the _savant_ allows himself when brought in contact with a discerner of -the obvious. - -"No woman is quite frank in her prayers--no politician is quite honest -with the Working man." - -"Well. I am prepared to be not quite honest with him too." - -"You may believe yourself equal even to that; but it's not so easy as -it sounds. There is an art in not being quite honest. However, that's a -detail." - -"I humbly venture so to judge it." - -"The main thing is to get returned." - -"The main thing is, as you say, to get the money." - -"The money?" - -"Perhaps I should have said the woman." - -"The woman? the money? Ah, that brings us round again in the same circle -that we traversed yesterday, and the day before. I begin to perceive." - -"I had hope that you would--in time." - -"I shouldn't wonder if we heard the Banshee after dark," said the Third. - -"You are facing things boldly, my dear Harold," said Edmund. - -"What's the use of doing anything else?" inquired Harold. "You know how -I am situated." - -"I know your father." - -"That is enough. He writes to me that he finds it impossible to continue -my allowance on its present scale. His expenses are daily increasing, he -says. I believe him." - -"Too many people believe in him," said Edmund. "I have never been among -them." - -"But you can easily believe that his expenses are daily increasing." - -"Oh, yes, I am easily credulous on that point. Does he go the length of -assigning any reason for the increase?" - -"It's perfectly preposterous--he has no notion of the responsibilities -of fatherhood--of the propriety of its limitations so far as an exchange -of confidences is concerned. Why, if it were the other way--if I were to -write to tell him that I was in love, I would feel a trifle awkward--I -would think it almost indecent to quote poetry--Swinburne--something -about crimson mouths." - -"I dare say; but your father--" - -"He writes to tell me that he is in love." - -"In love?" - -"Yes, with some--well, some woman." - -"Some woman? I wonder if I know her husband." There was a considerable -pause. - -Brian pointed a ridiculous, hooked forefinger toward a hollow that from -beneath resembled a cave, half-way up the precipitous wall of cliffs. - -"That's where she comes on certain nights of the year. She stands at the -entrance to that cave, and cries for her lover as she cried that night -when she came only to find his dead body," said Brian, neutralizing the -suggested tragedy in his narrative by keeping exhibited that comical -crook in his index finger. "Ay, your honours, it's a quare story of -pity." Both his auditors looked first at his face, then at the crook in -his finger, and laughed. They declined to believe in the pity of it. - -"It is preposterous," said Harold. "He writes to me that he never quite -knew before what it was to love. He knows it now, he says, and as it's -more expensive than he ever imagined it could be, he's reluctantly -compelled to cut down my allowance. Then it is that he begins to talk of -the crimson mouth--I fancy it's followed by something about the passion -of the fervid South--so like my father, but like no other man in the -world. He adds that perhaps one day I may also know 'what'tis to love.'" - -"At present, however, he insists on your looking at that form of -happiness through another man's eyes? Your father loves, and you are to -learn--approximately--what it costs, and pay the expenses." - -"That's the situation of the present hour. What am I to do?" - -"Marry Helen Craven." - -"That's brutally frank, at any rate." - -"You see, you're not a working man with a vote. I can afford to be frank -with you. Of course, that question which you have asked me is the one -that was on your mind two days ago, when you began to talk about what -you called 'woman in the abstract.'" - -"I dare say it was. We have had two stories from Brian in the meantime." - -"My dear Harold, your case is far from being unique. Some of its -elements may present new features, but, taken as a whole, it is -commonplace. You have ambition, but you have also a father." - -"So far I am in line with the commonplace." - -"You cannot hope to realize your aims without money, and the only way by -which a man can acquire a large amount of money suddenly, is by a deal -on the Stock Exchange or at Monte Carlo, or by matrimony. The last is -the safest." - -"There's no doubt about that. But--" - -"Yes, I know what's in your mind. I've read the scene between Captain -Absolute and his father in 'The Rivals'--I read countless fictions up to -the point where the writers artlessly introduce the same scene, then I -throw away the books. With the examples we have all had of the -success of the _mariage de convenance_ and of the failure of the -_mariage d'amour_ it is absurd to find fault with the Johnsonian -dictum about marriages made by the Lord Chancellor." - -"I suppose not," said Harold. "Only I don't quite see why, if Dr. -Johnson didn't believe that marriages were made in heaven, there was any -necessity for him to run off to the other extreme." - -"He merely said, I fancy, that a marriage arranged by the Lord -Chancellor was as likely to turn out happily as one that was--well, made -in heaven, if you insist on the phrase. Heaven, as a match-maker, has -much to learn." - -"Then it's settled," said Harold, with an affectation of cynicism -that amused his friend and puzzled Brian, who had ears. "I'll have to -sacrifice one ambition in order to secure the other." - -"I think that you're right," said Edmund. "You're not in love just -now--so much is certain." - -"Nothing could be more certain," acquiesced Harold, with a laugh. "And -now I suppose it is equally certain that I never shall be." - -"Nothing of the sort. That cynicism which delights to suggest that -marriage is fatal to love, is as false as it is pointless. Let any man -keep his eyes open and he will see that marriage is the surest guarantee -that exists of the permanence of love." - -"Just as an I O U is a guarantee--it's a legal form. The money can be -legally demanded." - -"You are a trifle obscure in your parallel," remarked Edmund. - -"I merely suggested that the marriage ceremony is an I O U for the debt -which is love. Oh, this sort of beating about a question and making it -the subject of phrases can lead nowhere. Never mind. I believe that, on -the whole, the grain of advice which I have acquired out of your bushel -of talk, is good, and is destined to bear good fruit. I'll have my -career in the world, that my father may learn 'what'tis to love.' My -mind is made up. Come, Brian, to the shore!" - -"Not till I tell your honour the story of the lovely young Princess -Fither," said the boatman, assuming a sentimental expression that was -extremely comical. - -"Brian, Prince of Storytellers, let it be brief," said Edmund. - -"It's to his honour I'm telling this story, not to your honour, Mr. -Airey," said Brian. "You've a way of wrinkling up your eyes, I notice, -when you speak that word 'love,' and if you don't put your tongue in -your cheek when anyone else comes across that word accidental-like, you -put your tongue in your cheek when you're alone, and when you think over -what has been said." - -"Why, you're a student of men as well as an observer of nature, O -Prince," laughed Edmund. - -"No, I've only eyes and ears," said Brian, in a deprecating tone. - -"And a certain skill in narrative," said Harold. "What about the -beauteous Princess Fither? What dynasty did she belong to?" - -"She belonged to Cashelderg," replied Brian. "A few stones of the ruin -may still be seen, if you've any imagination, on the brink of the cliff -that's called Carrigorm--you can just perceive its shape above the cove -where his lordship's boathouse is built." - -"Yes; I see the cliff--just where a castle might at one time have been -built. And that's the dynasty that she belonged to?" said Harold. - -"The same, sir. And on our side you may still see--always supposing that -you have the imagination--" - -"Of course, nothing imaginary can be seen without the aid of the -imagination." - -"You may see the ruins of what might have been Cashel-na-Mara, where the -Macnamara held his court--Mac na Mara means Son of the Waves, you must -know." - -"It's a matter of notoriety," said Edmund. - -"The Macnamaras and the Casheldergs were the deadliest of enemies, and -hardly a day passed for years--maybe centuries--without some one of the -clan getting the better of the other. Maybe that was how the surplus -population was kept down in these parts. Anyhow there was no talk, so -far as I've heard, of congested districts in them days. Well, sir, it -so happened that the Prince of the Macnamaras was a fine, handsome, and -brave young fellow, and the Princess Fither of Cashelderg was the most -beautiful of Irish women, and that's saying a good deal. As luck would -have it, the young people came together. Her boat was lost in a fog one -night and drifting upon the sharp rocks beyond the headland. The cries -of the poor girl were heard on both sides of the Lough--the blessed -Lough where we're now floating--but no one was brave enough to put out -to the rescue of the Princess--no one, did I say? Who is it that makes a -quick leap off the cliffs into the rolling waters beneath? He fights his -way, strong swimmer that he is! through the surge, and, unseen by any -eye by reason of the fog, he reaches the Princess's boat. Her cries -cease. And a keen arises along the cliffs of Carrigorm, for her friends -think that she has been swallowed up in the cruel waves. The keen goes -on, but it's sudden changed into a shout of joy; for a noble young -figure appears as if by magic on the cliff head, and places the precious -burden of her lovely daughter in the arms of her weeping mother, and -then vanishes." - -"And so the feud was healed, and if they didn't live happy, we may," -said Edmund. - -"That's all you know about the spirit of an ancient Irish family -quarrel," said Brian pityingly. "No, sir. The brave deed of the young -Prince only made the quarrel the bitterer. But the young people had -fallen in love with each other, and they met in secret in that cave that -you see there just above us--the Banshee's Cave, it's called to this -day. The lovely Princess put off in her boat night after night, and -climbed the cliff face--there was no path in them days--to where her -lover was waiting for her in the cave. But at last some wretch unworthy -of the name of a man got to learn the secret and told it to the -Princess's father. With half-a-dozen of the clan he lay in wait for the -young Prince in the cave, and they stabbed him in twelve places with -their daggers. And even while they were doing the murder, the song -of the Princess was heard, telling her lover that she was coming. -She climbed the face of the cliff and with a laugh ran into the -trysting-place. She stumbled over the body of her lover. Her father -stole out of the darkness of the cave and grasped her by the wrist. -Then there rang out over the waters the cry, which still sounds on some -nights from a cave--the cry of the girl when she learned the truth--the -cry of the girl as, with a superhuman effort, she released herself from -her father's iron grasp, and sprang from the head of the cliff you see -there above, into the depths of the waters where we're now floating." - -There was a pause before Edmund remarked, "Your story of the -Montague-Macnamaras and the Capulet-Casheldergs is a sad one, Brian. And -you have heard the cry of the young Princess with your own ears, I dare -say?" - -"That I have, your honour. And it's the story of the young Princess -Fither and her lover that I tell to gentlemen that put their tongues -in their cheeks when they're alone, and thinking of the way the less -knowing ones talk of love and the heart of a woman." - -Both Edmund and Harold began to think that perhaps the Irish boatman was -a shrewder and a more careful listener than they had given him. - - - - -CHAPTER IV.--ON FABLES. - -VERY amusing indeed was Edmund's parody of the boatman's -wildly-romantic story. The travesty was composed for the benefit of Miss -Craven, and the time of its communication was between the courses of the -very excellent dinner which Lord Innisfail had provided for his numerous -guests at his picturesque Castle overlooking Lough Suangorm--that -magnificent fjord on the West Coast of Ireland. Lord Innisfail was a -true Irishman. When he was away from Ireland he was ever longing to be -back in it, and when he was in Ireland he was ever trying to get away -from it. The result of his patriotism was a residence of a month in -Connaught in the autumn, and the rest of the year in Connaught Square or -Monte Carlo. He was accustomed to declare--in England--that Ireland -and the Irish were magnificent. If this was his conviction, his -self-abnegation, displayed by carefully avoiding both, except during a -month every year, was all the greater. - -And yet no one ever gave him credit for possessing the virtue of -self-abnegation. - -He declared--in England--that the Irish race was the finest on the face -of the earth, and he invariably filled his Castle with Englishmen. - -He was idolized by his Irish tenantry, and they occasionally left a few -birds for his guests to shoot on his moors during the latter days of -August. - -Lord Innisfail was a man of about fifty years of age. His wife was -forty and looked twenty-five: their daughter was eighteen and looked -twenty-four. - -Edmund Airey, who was trying to amuse Miss Craven by burlesquing the -romance of the Princess Fither, was the representative in Parlament of -an English constituency. His father had been in business--some people -said on the Stock Exchange, which would be just the opposite. He had, -however, died leaving his son a considerable fortune extremely well -invested--a fact which tended strongly against the Stock Exchange -theory. His son showed no desire to go on the turf or to live within -reach to the European gaming-table. If there was any truth in the Stock -Exchange theory, this fact tended to weaken the doctrine of heredity. - -He had never blustered on the subject of his independence of thought or -action. He had attached himself unobtrusively to the Government party -on entering Parlament, and he had never occasioned the Whips a moment's -anxiety during the three years that had elapsed since the date of his -return. He was always found in the Government Lobby in a division, and -he was thus regarded by the Ministers as an extremely conscientious -man. This is only another way of saying that he was regarded by the -Opposition as an extremely unscrupulous man. - -His speeches were brief, but each of them contained a phrase which told -against the Opposition. He was wise enough to refrain from introducing -into any speech so doubtful an auxiliary as argument, in his attempts -to convince the Opposition that they were in the wrong. He had the good -sense to perceive early in his career that argument goes for nothing in -the House of Commons, but that trusted Governments have been turned out -of office by a phrase. This power of perception induced him to cultivate -the art of phrase-making. His dexterity in this direction had now -and again made the Opposition feel uncomfortable; and as making the -Opposition feel uncomfortable embodies the whole science of successful -party-government in England, it was generally assumed that, if the -Opposition could only be kept out of power after the General Election, -Edmund Airey would be rewarded by an Under-Secretaryship. - -He was a year or two under forty, tall, slender, and so -distinguished-looking that some people--they were not his friends--were -accustomed to say that it was impossible that he could ever attain to -political distinction. - -He assured Miss Craven that, sitting in the stern sheets of the boat, -idly rocking on the smooth swell that rolled through the Lough from the -Atlantic, was by far the most profitable way of spending two hours of -the afternoon. Miss Craven doubted if this was a fact. "Where did the -profit come in except to the boatman?" she inquired. - -Mr. Airey, who knew that Miss Craven was anxious to know if Harold had -been of the profitable boating-party, had no idea of allowing his powers -of travesty to be concealed by the account, for which the young woman -was longing, of Harold and the topics upon which he had conversed. He -assured her that it was eminently profitable for anyone interested in -comparative mythology, to be made acquainted with the Irish equivalent -to the Mantuan fable. - -"Fable!" almost shrieked Miss Craven. "Mantuan fable! Do you mean to -suggest that there never was a Romeo and Juliet?" - -"On the contrary, I mean to say that there have been several," said Mr. -Airey. "They exist in all languages. I have come unexpectedly upon them -in India, then in Japan, afterwards they turned up, with some delicate -Maori variations, in New Zealand when I was there. I might have been -prepared for them at such a place as this You know how the modern -melodramas are made, Miss Craven?" - -"I have read somewhere, but I forget. And you sat alone in the boat -smoking, while the boatman droned out his stories?" remarked the young -woman, refusing a cold _entrée_. - -"I will tell you how the melodramas are made," said Mr. Airey, refusing -to be led up to Harold as a topic. "The artist paints several effective -pictures of scenery and then one of the collaborateurs--the man who -can't write, for want of the grammar, but who knows how far to go with -the public--invents the situation to work in with the scenery. Last of -all, the man who has grammar--some grammar--fills in the details of the -story." - -"Really! How interesting! And that's how Shakespeare wrote 'Romeo and -Juliet'? What a fund of knowledge you have, Mr. Airey!" - -Mr. Airey, by the method of his disclaimer, laid claim to a much larger -fund than any that Miss Craven had attributed to him. - -"I only meant to suggest that traditional romance is evolved on the same -lines," said he, when his deprecatory head-shakes had ceased. "Given the -scenic effects of 'Romeo and Juliet,' the romance on the lines of 'Romeo -and Juliet' will be forthcoming, if you only wait long enough. When you -pay a visit to any romantic glen with a torrent--an amateurish copy of -an unknown Salvator Rosa--ask for the 'Lover's Leap' and it will be -shown to you." - -"I'll try to remember." - -"Given, as scenic details, the ruin of a Castle on one side of -the Lough, the ruin of a Castle on the other, and the names of the -hereditary enemies, the story comes naturally--quite as naturally--not -to say overmuch about it--as the story of the melodrama follows the -sketch of the scenic effects in the theatre. The transition from -Montague to Macnamara--from Capulet to Cashelderg is easy, and there -you are." - -"And here we are," laughed Miss Craven. "How delightful it is to be able -to work out a legend in that way, is it not, Mr. Durdan?" and she turned -to a man sitting at her left. - -"It's quite delightful, I'm sure," said Mr. Durdan. "But Airey is only -adapting the creed of his party to matters of everyday life. What people -say about his party is that they make a phrase first and then look out -for a policy to hang upon it. Government by phrase is what the country -is compelled to submit to." - -Mr. Durdan was a prominent member of the Opposition. - - - - -CHAPTER V.--ON A PERILOUS CAUSEWAY. - -MISS CRAVEN laughed and watched Mr. Airey searching for a reply beneath -the frill of a Neapolitan ice. She did not mean that he should find -one. Her aim was that he should talk about Harold Wynne. The dinner had -reached its pianissimo passages, so to speak. It was dwindling away into -the _marrons glacés_ and _fondants_ stage, so she had not much time left -to her to find out if it was indeed with his friend Edmund Airey that -Harold had disappeared every afternoon. - -Edmund Airey knew what her aim was. He was a clever man, and he -endeavoured to frustrate it. Ten minutes afterwards he was amazed to -find that he had told her all that she wanted to know, and something -over, for he had told her that Harold was at present greatly interested -in the question of the advisability of a man's entering public life by -the perilous causeway--the phrase was Edmund Airey's--of matrimony. - -As he chose a cigar for himself--for there was a choice even among -Lord Innisfail's cigars--he was actually amazed to find that the girl's -purpose had been too strong for his resolution. He actually felt as if -he had betrayed his friend to the enemy--he actually put the matter in -this way in his moment of self-reproach. - -Before his cigar was well alight, however, he had become more reasonable -in his censorship of his own weakness. An enemy? Why, the young woman -was the best friend that Harold Wynne could possibly have. She was -young--that is, young enough--she was clever--had she not got the better -of Edmund Airey?--and, best of all, she was an heiress. - -"The perilous causeway of matrimony"--that was the phrase which had come -suddenly into his mind, and, in order to introduce it, he had sent the -girl away feeling that she was cleverer than he was. - -"The perilous causeway of matrimony," he repeated. "With a handrail of -ten thousand a year--there is safety in that." - -He looked down the long dining-hall, glistening with silver, to where -Harold stood facing the great window, the square of which framed a dim -picture of a mountain slope, purple with heather, that had snared the -last light of the sunken sun. The sea horizon cut upon the slope not far -from its summit, and in that infinity of Western distance there was a -dash of drifting crimson. - -Harold Wynne stood watching that picture of the mountain with the -Atlantic beyond, and Edmund watched him. - -There was a good deal of conversation flying about the room. The smokers -of cigarettes talked on a topic which they would probably have called -Art. The smokers of pipes explained in a circumstantial way, that -carried suspicion with it to the ears of all listeners, their splendid -failures to secure certain big fish during the day. The smokers of -cigars talked of the Horse and the House--mostly of the Horse. There -was a rather florid judge present--he had talked himself crimson to the -appreciative woman who had sat beside him at dinner, on the subject of -the previous racing-season, and now he was talking himself purple on the -subject of the future season. He had been at Castle Innisfail for three -days, and he had steadily refused to entertain the idea of talking -on any other subject than the Horse from the standpoint of a possible -backer. - -This was the judge, who, during the hearing of a celebrated case a few -months before--a case that had involved a reference to an event known -as the City and Suburban, inquired if that was the name of a Railway -Company. Hearing that it was a race, he asked if it was a horse race or -a dog race. - -Harold remained on his feet in front of the window, and Edmund remained -watching him until the streak of crimson had dwindled to a flaming Rahab -thread. The servants entered the room with coffee, and brought out many -subtle gleams from the old oak by lighting the candles in the silver -sconces. - -Every time that the door was opened, the sound of a human voice (female) -trying, but with indifferent success, to scale the heights of a -song that had been saleable by reason of its suggestions of -passion--drawing-room passion--saleable passion--fought its way through -the tobacco smoke of the dining-hall. Hearing it fitfully, such men as -might have felt inclined to leave half-smoked cigars for the sake of the -purer atmosphere of the drawingroom, became resigned to their immediate -surroundings. - -A whisper had gone round the table while dinner was in progress, that -Miss Stafford had promised--some people said threatened--to -recite something in the course of the evening. Miss Stafford was a -highly-educated young woman. She spoke French, German, Italian -and Spanish. This is only another way of saying that she could -be uninteresting in four languages. In addition to the ordinary -disqualifications of such young women, she recited a little--mostly -poems about early childhood, involving a lisp and a pinafore. She wished -to do duty as an object lesson of the possibility of combining with an -exhaustive knowledge of mathematical formulæ, the strongest instincts of -femininity. Mathematics and motherhood were not necessarily opposed to -one another, her teachers had assured the world, through the medium -of magazine articles. Formulæ and femininity went hand in hand, they -endeavoured to prove, through the medium of Miss Stafford's recitations; -so she acquired the imaginary lisp of early childhood, and tore a -pinafore to shreds in the course of fifteen stanzas. - -It was generally understood among men that one of these recitations -amply repaid a listener for a careful avoidance of the apartment where -it took place. - -The threat that had been whispered round the dinner-table formed an -excuse for long tarrying in front of the coffee cups and Bénédictine. - -"Boys," at length said Lord Innisfail, endeavouring to put on an -effective Irish brogue--he thought it was only due to Ireland to put on -a month's brogue. "Boys, we'll face it like men. Shall it be said in the -days to come that we ran away from a lisp and a pinafore?" Then suddenly -remembering that Miss Stafford was his guest, he became grave. "Her -father was my friend," he said. "He rode straight. What's the matter -with the girl? If she does know all about the binomial-theorem and -German philosophy, has she not some redeeming qualities? You needn't -tell me that there's not some good in a young woman who commits to -memory such stuff as that--that what's its name--the little boy that's -run over by a 'bus or something or other and that lisps in consequence -about his pap-pa. No, you needn't argue with me. It's extremely kind of -her to offer to recite, and I will stand up for her, confound her! And -if anyone wants to come round with the Judge and me to the stables while -she's reciting, now's the time. Will you take another glass of claret, -Wynne?" - -"No, thank you," said Harold. "I'm off to the drawing-room." - -He followed the men who were straggling into the great square hall where -a billiard table occupied an insignificant space. The skeleton of an -ancient Irish elk formed a rather more conspicuous object in the hall, -and was occasionally found handy for the disposal of hats, rugs, and -overcoats. - -"She is greatly interested in the Romeo and Juliet story," remarked -Edmund, strolling up to him. - -"She--who?" asked Harold. - -"The girl--the necessary girl. The--let us say, alternative. The--the -handrail." - -"The handrail?" - -"Yes. Oh, I forgot: you were not within hearing. There was something -said about the perilous causeway of matrimony." - -"And that suggested the handrail idea to you? No better idea ever -occurred even to you, O man of many ideas, and of still more numerous -phrases." - -"She is responsive--she is also clever--she is uncommonly clever--she -got the better of me." - -"Say no more about her cleverness." - -"I will say no more about it. A man cannot go a better way about -checking an incipient passion for a young woman than by insisting on -her cleverness. We do not take to the clever ones. Our ideal does not -include a power of repartee." - -"Incipient passion!" - -There was a suspicion of bitterness in Harold's voice, as he repeated -the words of his friend. - -"Incipient passion! I think we had better go into the drawing-room." - -They went into the drawing-room. - - - - -CHAPTER VI.--ON THE INFLUENCE OF AN OCEAN. - -MISS CRAVEN was sitting on a distant sofa listening, or pretending to -listen, which is precisely the same thing, with great earnestness to the -discourse of Mr. Durdan, who, besides being an active politician, had a -theory upon the question of what Ibsen meant by his "Master Builder." - -Harold said a few words to Miss Innisfail, who was trying to damp her -mother's hope of getting up a dance in the hall, but Lady Innisfail -declined to be suppressed even by her daughter, and had received -promises of support for her enterprise in influential quarters. Finding -that her mother was likely to succeed, the girl hastened away to entreat -one of her friends to play a "piece" on the pianoforte. - -She knew that she might safely depend upon the person to whom she -applied for this favour, to put a stop to her mother's negotiations. -The lady performed in the old style. Under her hands the one instrument -discharged the office of several. The volume of sound suggested that -produced by the steam orchestra of a switchback railway. - -Harold glanced across the room and perceived that, while the performer -was tearing notes by the handful and flinging them about the place--up -in the air, against the walls--while her hands were worrying the bass -notes one moment like rival terrier puppies over a bone, and at other -times tickling the treble rather too roughly to be good fun--Miss -Craven's companion had not abandoned the hope of making himself audible -if not intelligible. He had clearly accepted the challenge thrown down -by the performer. - -Harold perceived that a man behind him had furtively unlatched one of -the windows leading to the terrace, and was escaping by that means, and -not alone. From outside came the hearty laughter of the judge telling an -open-air story to his host. People looked anxiously toward the -window. Harold shook his head as though suggesting that that sort of -interruption must be put a stop to at once, and that he was the man to -do it. - -He went resolutely out through the window. - -"'Which was immediately suppressed by the officers of the court,'" said -Edmund, in the ear of Lady Innisfail. - -He spoke too soon. The judge's laugh rolled along like the breaking of -a tidal wave. It was plain that Harold had not gone to remonstrate with -the judge. - -He had not. He had merely strolled round the terrace to the entrance -hall. Here he picked up one of the many caps which were hanging there, -and putting it on his head, walked idly away from the castle, hearing -only the floating eulogy uttered by the judge of a certain well-known -jockey who was, he said, the kindliest and most honourable soul that had -ever pulled the favourite. - -A longing had come to him to hurry as far as he could from the Castle -and its company--they were hateful to him just at that instant. The -shocking performance of the woman at the pianoforte, the chatter of his -fellow-guests, the delicate way in which his friend Edmund Airey made -the most indelicate allusions, the _nisi prius_ jocularity of the -judge--he turned away from all with a feeling of repulsion. - -And yet Lord Innisfail's cook was beyond reproach as an artist. - -Harold Wynne had accepted the invitation of Lady Innisfail in cold -blood. She had asked him to go to Castle Innisfail for a few weeks in -August, adding, "Helen Craven has promised to be among our party. You -like her, don't you?" - -"Immensely," he had replied. - -"I knew it," she had cried, with an enthusiasm that would have shocked -her daughter. "I don't want a discordant note at our gathering. If you -look coldly on Helen Craven I shall wish that I hadn't asked you; but if -you look on her in--well, in the other way, we shall all be happy." - -He knew exactly what Lady Innisfail meant to convey. It had been hinted -to him before that, as he was presumably desirous of marrying a girl -with a considerable amount of money, he could not do better than -ask Miss Craven to be his wife. He had then laughed and assured Lady -Innisfail that if their happiness depended upon the way he looked upon -Miss Craven, it would be his aim to look upon her in any way that Lady -Innisfail might suggest. - -Well, he had come to Castle Innisfail, and for a week he had given -himself up to the vastness of the Western Cliffs--of the Atlantic -waves--of the billowy mountains--of the mysterious sunsets. It was -impossible to escape from the overwhelming influence of the Atlantic in -the region of Castle Innisfail. Its sound seemed to go out to all the -ends of the earth. At the Castle there was no speech or language where -its voice was not heard. It was a sort of background of sound that -had to be arranged for by anyone desirous of expressing any thought or -emotion in that region. Even the judge had to take it into consideration -upon occasions. He never took into consideration anything less important -than an ocean. - -For a week the influence of the Atlantic had overwhelmed Harold. He had -given himself up to it. He had looked at Miss Craven neither coldly nor -in the other way--whatever it was--to which Lady Innisfail had referred -as desirable to be adopted by him. Miss Craven had simply not been in -his thoughts. Face to face with the Infinite one hesitates to give up -one's attention to a question of an income that may be indicated by five -figures only. - -But at the end of a week, he received a letter from his father, who -was Lord Fotheringay, and this letter rang many changes upon the -five-figure-income question. The question was more than all the -Infinities to Lord Fotheringay, and he suggested as much in writing to -his son. - -"Miss Craven is all that is desirable," the letter had said. "Of -course she is not an American; but one cannot expect everything in this -imperfect world. Her money is, I understand, well invested--not in land, -thank heaven! She is, in fact, a CERTAINTY, and certainties are becoming -rarer every day." - -Here the letter went on to refer to some abstract questions of the opera -in Italy--it was to the opera in Italy that Lord Fotheringay w as, -for the time being, attached. The progress made by one of its -ornaments--gifted with a singularly flexible soprano--interested him -greatly, and Harold had invariably found that in proportion to the -interest taken by his father in the exponents of certain arts--singing, -dancing, and the drama--his own allowance was reduced. He knew that his -father was not a rich man, for a peer. His income was only a trifle -over twelve thousand a year; but he also knew that only for his father's -weaknesses, this sum should be sufficient for him to live on with some -degree of comfort. The weaknesses, however, were there, and they had to -be calculated on. Harold calculated on them; and after doing the sum in -simple subtraction with the sound of the infinite ocean around him, he -had asked his friend Edmund Airey to pass a few hours in the boat with -him. Edmund had complied for three consecutive afternoons, with the -result that, with three ridiculous stories from the Irish boatman, -Harold had acquired a certain amount of sound advice from the friend who -was in his confidence. - -He had made up his mind that, if Miss Craven would marry him, he would -endeavour to make her the wife of a distinguished man. - -That included everything, did it not? - -He felt that he might realize the brilliant future predicted for him by -his friends when he was the leader of the party of the hour at -Oxford. The theory of the party was--like everything that comes from -Oxford--eminently practical. The Regeneration of Humanity by means of -Natural Scenery was its foundation. Its advocates proved to their own -satisfaction that, in every question of morality and the still more -important question of artistic feeling, heredity was not the dominant -influence, but natural scenery. - -By the party Harold was regarded as the long-looked-for Man--what the -world wanted was a Man, they declared, and he was destined to be the -Man. - -He had travelled a good deal on leaving the University, and in a year -he had forgotten that he had ever pretended that he held any theory. A -theory he had come to believe to be the paper fortress of the Immature. -But the Man--that was a different thing. He hoped that he might yet -prove himself to be a man, so that, after all, his friends--they had -also ceased to theorize--might not have predicted in vain. - -Like many young men without experience, he believed that Parliament was -a great power. If anyone had told him that the art of gerrymandering -is greater than the art of governing, he would not have known what his -informant meant. - -His aspirations took the direction of a seat in the House of Commons. In -spite of the fact of his being the son of Lord Fotheringay, he believed -that he might make his mark in that Assembly. The well-known love of the -Voter for social purity--not necessarily in Beer--and his intolerance of -idleness--excepting, of course, when it is paid for by an employer--had, -he knew, to be counted on. Lord Fotheringay was not, he felt, the -ideal of the Working man, but he hoped he might be able to convince -the Working man--the Voter--that Lord Fotheringay's most noted -characteristics had not descended to his son. - -From his concern on this point it will be readily understood how -striking a figure was the Voter, in his estimation. - -It is not so easy to understand how, with that ideal Voter--that stern -unbending moralist--before his eyes, he should feel that there was a -great need for him to be possessed of money before offering himself to -any constituency. The fact remained, however, that everyone to whom -he had confided his Parliamentary aspirations, had assured him at the -outset that money had to be secured before a constituency could be -reckoned on. His friend Edmund Airey had still further impressed upon -him this fact; and now he had made up his mind that his aspirations -should not be discouraged through the lack of money. - -He would ask Helen Craven that very night if she would have the goodness -to marry him. - - - - -CHAPTER VII.--ON THE ADVANTAGES OF A FULL MOON. - -WHY the fact of his having made up his mind to ask Miss Craven who, -without being an American, still possessed many qualities which are -generally accepted as tending to married happiness, should cause him to -feel a great longing to leave Castle Innisfail, its occupants, and its -occupations behind him for evermore, it is difficult to explain on any -rational grounds. That feeling was, however, upon him, and he strode -away across the billowy moorland in the direction of the cliffs of the -fjord known as Lough Suangorm. - -The moon was at its full. It had arisen some little way up the sky -and was showering its red gold down the slopes of the two cone-shaped -mountains that guard the pass of Lamdhu; the deep glen was flooded with -moonlight--Harold could perceive in its hollows such objects as were -scarcely visible on the ordinary gray days of the West of Ireland. Then -he walked until he was on the brink of the great cliffs overhanging the -lough. From the high point on which he stood he could follow all the -curves of the lough out to the headlands at its entrance seven miles -away. Beyond those headlands the great expanse of sea was glittering -splendidly in the moonlight, though the moon had not risen high enough -to touch the restless waters at the base of the cl iffs on which he -stood. The waters were black as they struggled within their narrow -limits and were strangled in the channel. Only a white thread of surf -marked the breaking place of the waves upon the cliffs. - -He went down the little track, made among the rocks of the steep slope, -until he reached the natural cavern that bore the name of the Banshee's -Cave. - -It was scarcely half-way up the face of the cliff. From that hollow in -the rocks the descent to the waters of the lough was sheer; but the cave -was easily accessible by a zig-zag path leading up from a small ledge of -rocks which, being protected by a reef that started up abruptly half a -dozen yards out in the narrow channel, served as a landing place for the -fishing boats, of which there were several owned in the tiny village of -Carrigorm. - -He stood at the entrance to the cavern, thinking, not upon the scene -which, according to the boatman's story, had been enacted at the place -several hundreds--perhaps thousands (the chronology of Irish legends is -vague)--of years before, but upon his own prospects. - -"It is done," he said, looking the opposite cliffs straight in the -face, as though they were Voters--(candidates usually look at the Voters -straight in the face the first time they address them). "It is done; -I cast it to the winds--to the seas, that are as indifferent to -man's affairs as the winds. I must be content to live without it. The -career--that is enough!" - -What it was that he meant to cast to the indifference of the seas and -the winds was nothing more than a sentiment--a vague feeling that he -could not previously get rid of--a feeling that man's life without -woman's love was something incomplete and unsatisfactory. - -He had had his theory on this subject as well as on others long ago--he -had gone the length of embodying it in sonnets. - -Was it now to go the way of the other impracticable theories? - -He had cherished it for long. If it had not been dear to him he would -not have subjected himself to the restriction of the sonnet in writing -about it. He would have adopted the commonplace and facile stanza. But a -sonnet is a shrine. - -He had felt that whatever might happen to him, however disappointed he -might become with the world and the things of the world, that great and -splendid love was before him, and he felt that to realize it would be to -forget all disappointments--to forget all the pangs which the heart of -man knows when its hour of disillusion comes. - -Love was the reward of the struggle--the deep, sweet draught that -refreshes the heart of the toiler, he felt. In whatever direction -illusion may lie, love was not in that direction. - -That had been his firm belief all his life, and now he was standing at -the entrance to the cavern--the cavern that was associated with a story -of love stronger than death--and he had just assured himself that he -had flung to the seas and the winds all his hopes of that love which had -been in his dreams. - -"It is gone--it is gone!" he cried, looking down at that narrow part of -the lough where the boat had been tumbling during the afternoon. - -What had that adviser of his said? He remembered something of his -words--something about marriage being a guarantee of love. - -Harold laughed grimly as he recalled the words. He knew better. The love -that he had looked for was not such as was referred to by his friend Mr. -Airey. It was---- - -But what on earth was the good of trying to recall what it was? The -diamonds that Queen Guinevere flung into the river, made just the same -splash as common stones would have done under the same circumstances: -and the love which he had cherished was, when cast to the winds, no more -worthy of being thought precious than the many other ideas which he had -happily rid himself of in the course of his walk through the world. - -This was how he repressed the thought of his conversation with his -friend; and after a while the recollections that he wished to suppress -yielded to his methods. - -Once more the influences of the place--the spectacle of the infinite -mountains, the voice of the infinite sea--asserted themselves as they -had done during the first week of his arrival at the Castle. The story -of the legendary Prince and Princess came back to him as though it were -the embodiment of the influences of the region of romance in the midst -of which he was standing. - -What had Brian the boatman said? The beautiful girl had crossed the -narrow channel of the lough night after night and had climbed the face -of the cliffs to her lover at their dizzy trysting-place--the place -where he was now standing. - -Even while he thought upon the details, as carefully narrated by the -boatman, the moon rose high enough to send her rays sweeping over the -full length of the lough. For a quarter of an hour a single thin crag of -the Slieve Gorm mountains had stood between the moon and the narrowing -of the lough. The orb rose over the last thin peak of the crag. The -lough through all its sinuous length flashed beneath his eyes like a -Malayan crease, and in the waters just below the cliffs which a moment -before had been black, he saw a small boat being rowed by a white -figure. - -"That is the lovely Princess of the story," said he. "She is in -white--of course they are all in white, these princesses. It's -marvellous what a glint of moonlight can do. It throws a glamour over -the essentially commonplace, the same way that--well, that that fancy -known as love does upon occasions, otherwise the plain features of a -woman would perish from the earth and not be perpetuated. The lumpy -daughter of the village who exists simply to show what an artist was -Jean François Millet, appears down there to float through the moonlight -like the restless spirit of a princess. Is she coming to meet the spirit -of her lover at their old trysting-place? Ah, no, she is probably about -to convey a pannikin of worms for bait to one of the fishing boats." - - - - -CHAPTER VIII.--ON THE ZIG-ZAG TRACK. - -HAROLD WYNNE was in one of those moods which struggle for expression -through the medium of bitter phrases. He felt that he did well to be -cynical. Had he not outlived his belief in love as a necessity of life? - -He watched with some degree of interest the progress of the tiny boat -rowed by the white figure. He had tried to bring himself to believe that -the figure was that of a rough fisher-girl--the fisher-girls are not -rough, however, on that part of the coast, and he knew it, only his mood -tended to roughness. He tried to make himself believe that a coarse jest -shrieked through the moonlight to reach the ears of an appreciatively -coarse fisherman, would not be inconsistent with the appearance of that -white figure. He felt quite equal to the act of looking beneath the -glory and the glamour of the moonlight and of seeing there only the -commonplace. He was, he believed, in a mood to revel in the disillusion -of a man. - -And yet he watched the progress of the boat through the glittering -waters, without removing his eyes from it. - -The white figure in the boat was so white as to seem the centre of -the light that flashed along the ripples and silvered the faces of the -cliffs--so much was apparent to him in spite of his mood. As the boat -approached the landing-place at the ledge of rock a hundred feet below -him, he also perceived that the rower handled her oars in a scientific -way unknown to the fisher-girls; and the next thing that he noticed -was that she wore a straw hat and a blouse of a pattern that the -fisher-girls were powerless to imitate, though the skill was -easily available to the Mary Anns and the Matilda Janes who steer -(indifferently) perambulators through the London parks. He was so -interested in what he saw, that he had not sufficient presence of mind -to resume his cynical mutterings, or to inquire if it was possible -that the fashion of the year as regards sailor hats and blouses, was a -repetition of that of the period of the Princess Fither. - -He was more than interested--he was puzzled--as the boat was skilfully -run alongside the narrow landing ledge at the foot of the cliffs, and -when the girl--the figure was clearly that of a girl--landed---she wore -yachting shoes--carrying with her the boat's painter, which she made -fast in a business-like way to one of the iron rings that had been sunk -in the face of the cliff for the mooring of the fishing boats, he was -more puzzled still. In another moment the girl was toiling up the little -zig-zag track that led to the summit of the cliffs. - -The track passed within a yard or two of the entrance to the cavern. He -thought it advisable to step hack out of the moonlight, so that the girl -should not see him. She was doubtless, he thought, on her way to the -summit of the cliffs, and she would probably be startled if he were to -appear suddenly before her eyes. He took a step or two back into the -friendly shadow of the cavern, and waited to hear her footsteps on the -track above him. - -He waited in vain. She did not take that zigzag track that led to the -cliffs above the cave. He heard her jump--it was almost a feat--from the -track by which she had ascended, on to a flat rock not a yard from the -entrance to the cavern. He shrunk still further back into the darkness, -and then there came before the entrance the most entrancing figure of a -girl that he had ever seen. - -She stood there delightfully out of breath, with the moonlight bringing -out every gracious curve in her shape. So he had seen the limelight -reveal the graces of a breathless _danseuse_, when taking her "call." - -"My dear Prince," said the girl, with many a gasp. "You have treated me -very badly. It's a pull--undeniably a pull--up those rocks, and for the -third time I have kept my tryst with you, only to be disappointed." - -She laughed, and putting a shapely foot--she was by no means careful to -conceal her stocking above the ankle--upon a stone, she quietly and in a -matter-of-fact way, tied the lace of her yachting shoe. - -The stooping was not good for her--he felt that, together with a few -other matters incidental to her situation. He waited for the long breath -he knew she would draw on straightening herself. - -It came. He hoped that her other shoe needed tying; but it did not. - -He watched her as she stood there with her back to him. She was sending -her eyes out to the Western headlands. - -"No, my Prince; on the whole I'm not disappointed," she said. "That -picture repays me for my toil by sea and land. What a picture! But what -would it be to be here with--with--love!" - -That was all she said. - -He thought it was quite enough. - -She stood there like a statue of white marble set among the black rocks. -She was absolutely motionless for some minutes; and then the sigh that -fluttered from her lips was, he knew, a different expression altogether -from that which had come from her when she had straightened herself on -fastening her shoe. - -His father was a connoisseur in sighs; Harold did not profess to -have the same amount of knowledge on the subject, but still he knew -something. He could distinguish roughly on some points incidental to the -sigh as a medium of expression. - -After that little gasp which was not quite a gasp, she was again silent; -then she whispered, but by no means gently, the one word "Idiot!" and -in another second she had sent her voice into the still night in a wild -musical cry--such a cry as anyone gifted with that imaginative power -which Brian had declared to be so necessary for archæological research, -might attribute to the Banshee--the White Lady of Irish legends. - -She repeated the cry an octave higher and then she executed what is -technically known as a "scale" but ended with that same weird cry of the -Banshee. - -Once again she was breathless. Her blouse was turbulent just below her -throat. - -"If Brian does not cross himself until he feels more fatigue than he -would after a pretence at rowing, I'll never play Banshee again," said -the girl. "_Ta, ta, mon Prince; a rivederci_." - -He watched her poise herself for the leap from the rock where she was -standing, to the track--her grace was exquisite--it suggested that of -the lithe antelope. The leap took her beyond his sight, and he did not -venture immediately to a point whence he could regain possession of her -with his eyes. But when he heard the sound of her voice singing a snatch -of song--it was actually "_L'amour est un oiseau rebelle_"--the Habanera -from "Carmen"--he judged that she had reached the second angle of the -zig-zag downward, and he took a step into the moonlight. - -There she went, lilting the song and keeping time with her feet, until -she reached the ledge where the boat was moored. She unfastened the -painter, hauled the boat close, and he heard the sound of the plunge -of the bows as she jumped on one of the beams, the force of her jump -sending the boat far from shore. - -She sat for some minutes on the beam amidship, listlessly allowing the -boat to drift away from the rocks, then she put out her hands for the -oars. Her right hand grasped one, but there was none for the left to -grasp. Harold perceived that one of the oars had disappeared. - -There was the boat twenty yards from the rock drifting away beyond the -control of the girl. - - - - -CHAPTER IX.--ON THE HELPLESSNESS OF WOMAN. - -THE girl had shown so much adroitness in the management of the little -craft previously, he felt--with deep regret--that she would be quite -equal to her present emergency. He was mistaken. She had reached the end -of her resources in navigation when she had run the boat alongside the -landing place. He saw--with great satisfaction--that with only one oar -she was helpless. - -What should he do? - -That was what he asked himself when he saw her dip her remaining oar -into the water and paddle a few strokes, making the boat describe an -awkward circle and bringing it perilously close to a jagged point of the -reef that did duty as a natural breakwater for the mooring place of the -boats. He came to the conclusion that if he allowed her to continue that -sort of paddling, she would run the boat on the reef, and he would be -morally responsible for the disaster and its consequences, whatever they -might be. He had never felt more conscientious than at that moment. - -He ran down the track to the landing ledge, but before he had reached -the latter, the girl had ceased her efforts and was staring at him, her -hands still resting on the oar. - -He had an uneasy feeling that he was scarcely so picturesquely -breathless as she had been, and this consciousness did not tend to make -him fluent as he stood upon the rocky shelf not a foot above the ridges -of the silver ripples. - -He found himself staring at her, just as she was staring at him. - -Quite a minute had passed before he found words to ask her if he could -be of any help to her. - -"I don't know," she replied, in a tone very different from that in which -she had spoken at the entrance to the cavern. "I don't really know. -One of the oars must have gone overboard while the boat was moored. I -scarcely know what I am to do." - -"I'm afraid you're in a bad way!" said he, shaking his head. The change -in the girl's tone was very amusing to him. She had become quite demure; -but previously, demureness had been in the background. "Yes, I'm afraid -your case is a very bad one." - -"So bad as that?" she asked. - -"Well, perhaps not quite, but still bad enough," said he. "What do you -want to do?" - -"To get home as soon as possible," she replied, without the pause of a -second. - -Her tone was expressive. It conveyed to him the notion that she had just -asked if he thought that she was an idiot. What could she want to do if -not to go home? - -"In that case," said he, "I should advise you to take the oar to the -sculling place in the centre of the stern. The boat is a stout one and -will scull well." - -"But I don't know how to scull," said she, in a tone of real distress; -"and I don't think I can begin to learn just now." - -"There's something in that," said he. "If I were only aboard I could -teach you in a short time." - -"But--" - -She had begun her reply without the delay of a second, but she did not -get beyond the one word. He felt that she did not need to do so: it was -a sentence by itself. - -"Yes," said he, "as you say, I'm not aboard. Shall I get aboard?" - -"How could you?" she inquired, brightening up. - -"I can swim," he replied. - -She laughed. - -"The situation is not so desperate as that," she cried. - -He also laughed. - -They both laughed together. - -She stopped suddenly and looked up the cliffs to the Banshee's Cave. - -Was she wondering if he had been within hearing when she had been--and -not in silence--at the entrance to the cave? - -He felt that he had never seen so beautiful a girl. Even making a -liberal allowance for that glamour of the moonlight, which he had tried -to assure himself was as deceptive as the glamour of love, she was, he -felt, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. - -He crushed down every suggestion that came to him as to the best way of -helping her out of her difficulty. It was his opportunity. - -Then she turned her eyes from the cliff and looked at him again. - -There was something imploring in her look. - -"Keep up your heart," said he. "Whose boat is that, may I ask?" - -"It belongs to a man named Brian--Brian something or other--perhaps -O'Donal." - -"In that case I think it almost certain that you will find a fishing -line in the locker astern--a fishing line and a tin bailer--the line -will help you out of the difficulty." - -Before he had quite done speaking she was in the stern sheets, groping -with one hand in the little locker. - -She brought out, first, a small jar of whiskey, secondly, a small -pannikin that served a man's purpose when he wished to drink the whiskey -in unusually small quantities, and was also handy in bailing out the -boat, and, thirdly, a fishing line-wound about a square frame. - -She held up the last-named so that Harold might see it. - -"I thought it would be there," said he. "Now if you can only cast one -end of that line ashore, I will catch it and the boat will be alongside -the landing-place in a few minutes. Can you throw?" - -She was silent. She examined the hooks on the whale-bone cross-cast. - -He laughed again, for he perceived that she was reluctant to boast of -the possession of a skill which was denied to all womankind. - -"I'll explain to you what you must do," he said. "Cut away the cast of -hooks." - -"But I have no knife." - -"Then I'll throw mine into the bottom of your boat. Look out." - -Being a man, he was able to make the knife alight within reasonable -distance of the spot at which he aimed. He saw her face brighten as she -picked up the implement and, opening it, quickly cut away the cast of -hooks. - -"Now make fast the leaden sinker to the end of the fishing line, unwind -it all from the frame, and then whirl the weight round and sling it -ashore--anywhere ashore." - -She followed his instructions implicitly, and the leaden weight fled -through the air, with the sound of a shell from a mortar. - -"Well thrown!" he cried, as it soared above his head; and it was well -thrown--so well that it carried overboard every inch of the line and the -frame to which it was attached. - -"How stupid of me!" she said. - -"Of me, you mean," said he. "I should have told you to make it fast. -However, no harm is done. I'll recover the weight and send it back to -you." - -He had no trouble in effecting his purpose. He threw the weight as -gently as possible into the bow of the boat, she picked it up, and -the line was in her hands as he took in the slack and hauled the boat -alongside the shelf of rock. - -It cannot have escaped notice that the system of hauling which he -adopted had the result of bringing their hands together. They scarcely -touched, however. - -"Thank you," said she, with profound coldness, when the boat was -alongside. - -"Your case was not so desperate, after all," he remarked, with just a -trifle less frigidity in his tone, though he now knew that she was the -most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He had talked of the glamour of -moonlight. How could he have been so ridiculous? - -"No, my case was not so very desperate," she said. "Thank you so much." - -Did she mean to suggest that he should now walk away? - -"I can't go, you know, until I am satisfied that your _contretemps_ is -at an end," said he. "My name is Wynne--Harold Wynne. I am a guest of -Lord Innisfail's. I dare say you know him." - -"No," she replied. "I know nobody." - -"Nobody?" - -"Nobody here. Of course I daily hear something about Lord Innisfail and -his guests." - -"You know Brian--he is somebody--the historian of the region. Did you -ever hear the story of the Banshee?" - -She looked at him, but he flattered himself that his face told her -nothing of what she seemed anxious to know. - -"Yes," she said, after a pause. "I do believe that I heard the story -of the Banshee--a princess, was she not--a sort of princess--an Irish -princess?" - -"Strictly Irish. It is said that the cry of the White Lady is sometimes -heard even on these nights among the cliffs down which the Princess -flung herself." - -"Really?" said she, turning her eyes to the sea. "How strange!" - -"Strange? well--perhaps. But Brian declares that he has heard the cry -with his own ears. I have a friend who says, very coarsely, that if lies -were landed property Brian would be the largest holder of real estate in -the world." - -"Your friend does not understand Brian." There was more than a trace of -indignation in her voice. "Brian has imagination--so have all the people -about here. I must get home as soon as possible. I thank you very much -for your trouble. Goodnight." - -"I have had no trouble. Good-night." - -He took off his cap, and moved away--to the extent of a single step. She -was still standing in the boat. - -"By the way," he said, as if the thought had just occurred to him; "do -you intend going overland?" - -The glamour of the moonlight failed to conceal the troubled look that -came to her eyes. He regained the step that he had taken away from her, -and remarked, "If you will be good enough to allow me, I will scull you -with the one oar to any part of the coast that you may wish to reach. It -would be a pleasure to me. I have nothing whatever to do. As a matter of -fact, I don't see that you have any choice in the matter." - -"I have not," she said gravely. "I was a fool--such a fool! But--the -story of the Princess--" - -"Pray don't make any confession to me," said he. "If I had not heard the -story of the Princess, should I be here either?" - -"My name," said she, "is Beatrice Avon. My father's name you may have -heard--most people have heard his name, though I'm afraid that not so -many have read his books." - -"But I have met your father," said he. "If he is Julius Anthony Avon, I -met him some years ago. He breakfasted with my tutor at Oxford. I have -read all his hooks." - -"Oh, come into the boat," she cried with a laugh. "I feel that we have -been introduced." - -"And so we have," said he, stepping upon the gunwale so as to push off -the boat. "Now, where is your best landing place?" - -She pointed out to him a white cottage at the entrance to a glen on the -opposite coast of the lough, just below the ruins--they could be seen -by the imaginative eye--of the Castle of Carrigorm. The cottage was -glistening in the moonlight. - -"That is where we have been living--my father and I--for the past -month," said she. "He is engaged on a new work--a History of Irish -Patriotism, and he has begun by compiling a biographical dictionary of -Irish Informers. He is making capital progress with it. He has already -got to the end of the seventh volume and he has very nearly reached the -letter C--oh, yes, he is making rapid progress." - -"But why is he at this place? Is he working up the Irish legends as -well?" - -"It seems that the French landed here some time or other, and that was -the beginning of a new era of rebellions. My father is dealing with the -period, and means to have his topography strictly accurate." - -"Yes," said Harold, "if he carefully avoids everything that he is told -in Ireland his book may tend to accuracy." - - - - -CHAPTER X.--ON SCIENCE AND ART. - -A BOAT being urged onwards--not very rapidly--by a single oar resting -in a hollow in the centre of the stern, and worked from side to side -by a man in evening dress, is not a sight of daily occurrence. This may -have suggested itself to the girl who was seated on the midship beam; -but if she was inclined to laugh, she succeeded in controlling her -impulses. - -He found that he was more adroit at the science of marine propulsion -than he had fancied he was. The boat was making quite too rapid progress -for his desires, across the lough. - -He asked the girl if she did not think it well that she should become -acquainted with at least the scientific principle which formed the -basis of the marine propeller. It was extremely unlikely that such -an emergency as that which had lately arisen should ever again make a -demand upon her resources, but if such were ever to present itself, it -might be well for her to be armed to overcome it. - -Yes, she said, it was extremely unlikely that she should ever again be -so foolish, and she hoped that her father would not be uneasy at her -failure to return at the hour at which she had told him to expect her. - -He stopped rocking the oar from side to side in order to assure her that -she could not possibly be delayed more than a quarter of an hour through -the loss of the oar. - -She said that she was very glad, and that she really thought that the -boat was making more rapid progress with his one oar than it had done in -the opposite direction with her two oars. - -He began to perceive that his opportunities of making her acquainted -with the science of the screw propeller were dwindling. He faced the oar -boldly, however, and he felt that he had at least succeeded in showing -her how effective was the application of a scientific law to the -achievement of his end--assuming that that end was the driving of the -boat through the waters. - -He was not a fool. He knew very well that there is nothing which so -appeals to the interest of a woman as seeing a man do something that she -cannot do. - -When, after five minutes' work, he turned his head to steer the boat, he -found that she was watching him. - -She had previously been watching the white glistening cottage, with the -light in one window only. - -The result of his observation was extremely satisfactory to him. He -resumed his toil without a word. - -And this was how it happened that the boat made so excellent a passage -across the lough. - -It was not until the keel grated upon the sand that the girl spoke. She -made a splendid leap from the bows, and, turning, asked him if he would -care to pay a visit to her father. - -He replied that he feared that he might jeopardize the biography of some -interesting informer whose name might occur at the close of the letter -B. He hoped that he would be allowed to borrow the boat for his return -to the cliffs, and to row it back the next day to where it was at the -moment he was speaking. - -His earnest sculling of the boat had not made all thought for the morrow -impracticable. He had been reflecting through the silence, how he might -make the chance of meeting once more this girl whose face he had seen -for the first time half an hour before. - -She had already given him an absurd amount of trouble, she said. The -boat was one that she had borrowed from Brian, and Brian could easily -row it across next morning. - -But he happened to know that Brian was to be in attendance on Mr. Durdan -all the next day. Mr. Durdan had come to the West solely for the purpose -of studying the Irish question on the spot. He had, consequently, spent -all his time, deep-sea fishing. - -"So you perceive that there's nothing for it but for me to bring back -the boat, Miss Avon," said he. - -"You do it so well," she said, with a tone of enthusiasm in her voice. -"I never admired anything so much--your sculling, I mean. And perhaps I -may learn something about--was it the scientific principle that you were -kind enough to offer to teach me?" - -"The scientific principle," said he, with an uneasy feeling that the -girl had seen through his artifice to prolong the crossing of the lough. -"Yes, you certainly should know all about the scientific principle." - -"I feel so, indeed. Good-night." - -"Good-night," said he, preparing to push the boat off the sand where it -had grounded. "Goodnight. By the way, it was only when we were out with -Brian in the afternoon that he told us the story of the Princess and her -lover. He added that the cry of the White Lady would probably be heard -when night came." - -"Perhaps you may hear it yet," said she. "Goodnight." - -She had run up the sandy beach, before he had pushed off the boat, and -she never looked round. - -He stood with one foot on the gunwale of the boat in act to push into -deep water, thinking that perhaps she might at the last moment look -round. - -She did not. - -He caught another glimpse of her beyond the furze that crowned a ridge -of rocks. But she had her face steadfastly set toward the white cottage. - -He threw all his weight upon the oar which he was using as a pole, and -out the boat shot into the deep water. - -"Great heavens!" said Edmund Airey. "Where have you been for the past -couple of hours?" - -"Where?" repeated Miss Craven in a tone of voice that should only be -assumed when the eyes, of the speaker are sparkling. But Miss Craven's -eyes were not sparkling. Their strong point was not in that direction. -"I'm afraid you must give an account of yourself, Mr. Wynne," she -continued. She was standing by the side of Edmund Airey, within the -embrace of the mighty antlers of the ancient elk in the hall. The sound -of dance music was in the air, and Miss Craven's face was flushed. - -"To give an account of myself would be to place myself on a level of -dulness with the autobiographers whose reminiscences we yawn over." - -"Then give us a chance of yawning," cried Miss Craven. - -"You do not need one," said he. "Have you not been for some time by the -side of a Member of Parliament?" - -"He has been over the cliffs," suggested the Member of Parliament. -He was looking at Harold's shoes, which bore tokens of having been -ill-treated beyond the usual ill-treatment of shoes with bows of ribbon -above the toes. - -"Yes," said Harold. "Over the cliffs." - -"At the Banshee's Cave, I'm certain," said Miss Craven. - -"Yes, at the Banshee's Cave." - -"How lovely! And you saw the White Lady?" she continued. - -"Yes, I saw the White Lady." - -"And you heard her cry at the entrance to the cave?" - -"Yes, I heard her cry at the entrance to the cave." - -"Nonsense!" said she. - -"Utter nonsense!" said he. "I must ask Lady Innisfail to dance." - -He crossed the hall to where Lady Innisfail was seated. She was fanning -herself and making sparkling replies to the inanities of Mr. Durdan, who -stood beside her. She had been engaged in every dance, Harold knew, from -the extra gravity of her daughter. - -"What does he mean?" Miss Craven asked of Edmund Airey in a low--almost -an anxious, tone. - -"Mean? Why, to dance with Lady Innisfail. He is a man of determination." - -"What does he mean by that nonsense about the Banshee's Cave?" - -"Is it nonsense?" - -"Of course it is. Does anyone suppose that the legend of the White Lady -is anything but nonsense? Didn't you ridicule it at dinner?" - -"At dinner; oh, yes: but then you must remember that no one is -altogether discreet at dinner. That cold _entrée_--the Russian salad--" - -"A good many people are discreet neither at dinner nor after it." - -"Our friend Harold, for instance? Oh, I have every confidence in him. -I know his mood. I have experienced it myself. I, too, have stood in a -sculpturesque attitude and attire, on a rock overhanging a deep sea, -and I have been at the point of dressing again without taking the plunge -that I meant to take." - -"You mean that he--that he--oh, I don't know what you mean." - -"I mean that if he had been so fortunate as to come upon you suddenly at -the Banshee's Cave or wherever he was to-night, he would have--well, he -would have taken the plunge." - -He saw the girl's face become slightly roseate in spite of the fact -of her being the most self-controlled person whom he had ever met. He -perceived that she appreciated his meaning to a shade. - -He liked that. A man who is gifted with the power of expressing his -ideas in various shades, likes to feel that his power is appreciated. -He knew that there are some people who fancy that every question is -susceptible of being answered by yea or nay. He hated such people. - -"The plunge?" said Miss Craven, with an ingenuousness that confirmed -his high estimate of her powers of appreciation. "The plunge? But the -Banshee's Cave is a hundred feet above the water." - -"But men have taken headers--" - -"They have," said she, "and therefore we should finish our waltz." - -They did finish their waltz. - - - - -CHAPTER XI.--ON HEAVEN AND THE LORD CHANCELLOR. - -MR. DURDAN was explaining something--he usually was explaining -something. When he had been a member of the late Government his process -of explaining something was generally regarded as a fine effort at -mystification. In private his explanations were sometimes intelligible. -As Harold entered the room where a straggling breakfast was -proceeding--everything except dinner had a tendency to be straggling -at Castle Innisfail--Mr. Dur dan was explaining how Brian had been -bewildered. - -It was a profitable theme, especially for a man who fondly believed that -he had the power of reproducing what he imagined to be the Irish brogue -of the boatman. - -Harold gathered that Mr. Durdan had already had a couple of hours of -deep-sea fishing in the boat with Brian--the servants were all the -morning carrying into the dining-room plates of fish of his catching -(audibly sneered at by the fly-fishers, who considered their supreme -failures superior to the hugest successes of the deep-sea fishers). - -But the fishing was not to the point. What Mr. Durdan believed to be -very much to the point were the "begorras," the "acushlas," the "arrahs" -which he tried to make his auditors believe the boatman had uttered in -telling him how he had been awakened early in the night by hearing the -cry of the Banshee. - -Every phrase supposed to have been employed by the boatman was -reproduced by the narrator; and his auditors glanced meaningly at one -another. It would have required a great deal of convincing to make them -fancy for a moment that the language of Brian consisted of an -imaginary Irish exclamation preceding a purely Cockney--occasionally -Yorkshire--idiom. But the narrator continued his story, and seemed -convinced that his voice was an exact reproduction of Brian's brogue. - -Harold thought that he would try a little of something that was not -fish--he scarcely minded what he had, provided it was not fish, he -told the servant. And as there was apparently some little-difficulty in -procuring such a comestible, Harold drank some coffee and listened -to Mr. Durdan's story--he recommenced it for everyone who entered the -breakfast-room. - -Yes, Brian had distinctly heard the cry of the Banshee, he said; but a -greater marvel had happened, for he found one of his boats that had been -made fast on the opposite shore of the lough in the early part of the -night, moored at the landing-ledge at the base of the cliffs beneath the -Banshee's Cave. By the aid of many a gratuitous "begorra," Mr. Durdan -indicated the condition of perplexity in which the boatman had been -all the time he was baiting the lines. He explained that the man had -attributed to "herself"--meaning, of course, the White Lady--the removal -of the boat from the one side of the lough to the other. It was plain -that the ghost of the Princess was a good oarswoman, too, for a single -paddle only was found in the boat. It was so like a ghost, he had -confided to Mr. Durdan, to make a cruise in a way that was contrary--the -accent on the second syllable--to nature. - -"He has put another oar aboard and is now rowing the boat back to its -original quarters," said Mr. Durdan, in conclusion. "But he declares -that, be the Powers!"--here the narrator assumed once more the hybrid -brogue--"if the boat was meddled with by 'herself' again he would call -the priest to bless the craft, and where would 'herself' be then?" - -"Where indeed?" said Lord Innisfail. - -Harold said nothing. He was aware that Edmund was looking at him -intently. Did he suspect anything, Harold wondered. - -He gave no indication of being more interested in the story than anyone -present, and no one present seemed struck with it--no one, except -perhaps, Miss Craven, who had entered the room late, and was thus -fortunate enough to obtain the general drift of what Mr. Durdan was -talking about, without having her attention diverted by his loving -repetition of the phrases of local colour. - -Miss Craven heard the story, laughed, glanced at her plate, and remarked -with some slyness that Mr. Durdan was clearly making strides -in his acquaintance with the Irish question. She then -glanced--confidentially--at Edmund Airey, and finally--rather -less confidentially--at Harold. - -He was eating of that which was not fish, and giving a good deal of -attention to it. - -Miss Craven thought he was giving quite too much attention to it. She -suspected that he knew more about the boat incident than he cared to -express, or why should he be giving so much attention to his plate? - -As for Harold himself, he was feeling that it would be something of a -gratification to him if a fatal accident were to happen to Brian. - -He inwardly called him a meddlesome fool. Why should he take it upon -him to row the boat across the lough, when he, Harold, had been looking -forward during the sleepless hours of the night, to that exercise? When -he had awakened from an early morning slumber, it was with the joyous -feeling that nothing could deprive him of that row across the lough. - -And yet he had been deprived of it, therefore he felt some regret that, -the morning being a calm one, Brian's chances of disaster when crossing -the lough were insignificant. - -All the time that the judge was explaining in that lucid style which was -the envy of his brethren on the Bench, how impossible it would be for -the Son of Porcupine to purge himself of the contempt which was heaped -upon him owing to his unseemly behaviour at a recent race meeting--the -case of the son of so excellent a father as Porcupine turning out badly -was jeopardizing the future of Evolution as a doctrine--Harold was -trying to devise some plan that should make him independent of the -interference of the boatman. He did not insist on the plan being -legitimate or even reasonable; all that he felt was that he must cross -the lough. - -He thought of the girl whom he had seen in that atmosphere of moonlight; -and somehow he came to think of her as responsible for her exquisite -surroundings. There was nothing commonplace about her--that was what he -felt most strongly as he noticed the excellent appetites of the young -women around him. Even Miss Stafford, who hoped to be accepted as an -Intellect embodied in a mere film of flesh--she went to the extreme -length of cultivating a Brow--tickled her trout with the point of her -fork much less tenderly than the fisherman who told her the story--with -an impromptu bravura passage or two--of its capture, had done. - -But the girl whom he had seen in the moonlight--whom he was yearning to -see in the sunlight--was as refined as a star. "As refined as a star," -he actually murmured, when he found himself with an unlighted cigar -between his fingers on that part of the terrace which afforded a fine -view of the lough--the narrow part as well--his eyes were directed to -the narrow part. "As refined as a star--a--" - -He turned himself round with a jerk. "A star?" - -His father's letter was still in his pocket. It contained in the course -of its operatic clauses some references to a Star--a Star, who, alas! -was not refined--who, on the contrary, was expensive. - -He struck a match very viciously and lit his cigar. - -Miss Craven had just appeared on the terrace. - -He dropped his still flaming match on the hard gravel walk and put his -foot upon it. - -"A star!" - -He was very vicious. - -"She is not a particularly good talker, but she is a most fascinating -listener," said Edmund Airey, who strolled up. - -"I have noticed so much--when you have been the talker," said Harold. -"It is only to the brilliant talker that the fascinating listener -appeals. By the way, how does 'fascinated listener' sound as a phrase? -Haven't I read somewhere that the speeches of an eminent politician were -modelled on the principle of catching birds by night? You flash a lamp -upon them and they may be captured by the score. The speeches were -compared to the lantern and the public to the birds." - -"Gulls," said Edmund. "My dear Harold, I did not come out here to -exchange opinions with you on the vexed question of vote-catching -or gulls--it will be time enough to do so when you have found a -constituency." - -"Quite. And meantime I am to think of Miss Craven as a fascinating -listener? That's what you have come to impress upon me." - -"I mean that you should give yourself a fair chance of becoming -acquainted with her powers as a listener--I mean that you should talk to -her on an interesting topic." - -"Would to heaven that I had your capacity of being interesting on all -topics." - -"The dullest man on earth when talking to a woman on love as a topic, -is infinitely more interesting to her than the most brilliant man when -talking to her on any other topic." - -"You suggest a perilous way to the dull man of becoming momentarily -interesting." - -"Of course I know the phrase which, in spite of being the composition -of a French philosopher, is not altogether devoid of truth--yes, '_Qui -parle d'amour fait l'amour'_." - -"Only that love is born, not made." - -"Great heavens! have you learned that--that, with your father's letter -next your heart?" - -Harold laughed. - -"Do you fancy that I have forgotten your conversation in the boat -yesterday?" said he. "Heaven on one side and the Lord Chancellor on the -other." - -"And you have come to the conclusion that you are on the side of heaven? -You are in a perilous way." - -"Your logic is a trifle shaky, friend. Besides, you have no right to -assume that I am on the side of heaven." - -"There is a suggestion of indignation in your voice that gives me hope -that you are not in so evil a case as I may have suspected. Do you think -that another afternoon in the boat--" - -"Would make me on the side of the Lord Chancellor? I doubt it. But that -is not equivalent to saying that I doubt the excellence of your advice." - -"Yesterday afternoon I flattered myself that I had given you such advice -as commended itself to you, and yet now you tell me that love is born, -not made. The man who believes that is past being advised. It is, I say, -the end of wisdom. What has happened since yesterday afternoon?" - -"Nothing has happened to shake my confidence in the soundness of your -advice," said Harold, but not until a pause had occurred--a pause of -sufficient duration to tell his observant friend that something had -happened. - -"If nothing has happened--Miss Craven is going to sketch the Round Tower -at noon," said Edmund--the Round Tower was some distance through the -romantic Pass of Lamdhu. - -"The Round Tower will not suffer; Miss Craven is not one of the -landscape libellers," remarked Harold. - -Just then Miss Innisfail hurried up with a face lined with anxiety. - -Miss Innisfail was the sort of girl who always, says, "It is I." - -"Oh, Mr. Airey," she cried, "I have come to entreat of you to do your -best to dissuade mamma from her wild notion--the wildest she has ever -had. You may have some restraining influence upon her. She is trying to -get up an Irish jig in the hall after dinner--she has set her heart on -it." - -"I can promise you that if Lady Innisfail asks me to be one of the -performers I shall decline," said Edmund. - -"Oh, she has set her heart on bringing native dancers for the purpose," -cried the girl. - -"That sounds serious," said Edmund. "Native dances are usually very -terrible visitations. I saw one at Samoa." - -"I knew it--yes, I suspected as much," murmured the girl, shaking her -head. "Oh, we must put a stop to it. You will help me, Mr. Airey?" - -"I am always on the side of law and order," said Mr. Airey. "A mother is -a great responsibility, Miss Innisfail." - -Miss Innisfail smiled sadly, shook her head again, and fled to find -another supporter against the latest frivolity of her mother. - -When Edmund turned about from watching her, he saw that his friend -Harold Wynne had gone off with some of the yachtsmen--for every day -a yachting party as well as deep-sea-fishing, and salmon-fishing -parties--shooting parties and even archæological parties were in the -habit of setting-out from Castle Innisfail. - -Was it possible that Harold intended spending the day aboard the cutter, -Edmund asked himself. - -Harold's mood of the previous evening had been quite intelligible -to him--he had confessed to Miss Craven that he understood and even -sympathized with him. He was the man who was putting off the plunge as -long as possible, he felt. - -But he knew that that attitude, if prolonged, not only becomes -ridiculous, but positively verges on the indecent. It is one thing to -pause for a minute on the brink of the deep water, and quite another to -remain shivering on the rock for half a day. - -Harold Wynne wanted money in order to realize a legitimate ambition. But -it so happened that he could not obtain that money unless by marrying -Miss Craven--that was the situation of the moment. But instead of -asking Miss Craven if she would have the goodness to marry him, he was -wandering about the coast in an aimless way. - -Lady Innisfail was the most finished artist in matchmaking that Edmund -had ever met. So finished an artist was she that no one had ever -ventured to suggest that she was a match-maker. As a matter of fact, her -reputation lay in just the opposite direction. She was generally looked -upon as a marrer of matches. This was how she had achieved some of -her most brilliant successes. She was herself so fascinating that she -attracted the nicest men to her side; but, somehow, instead of making -love to her as they meant to do, they found themselves making love to -the nice girls with whom she surrounded herself. When running upon the -love-making track with her, she switched them on, so to speak, to the -nice eligible girls, and they became engaged before they quite knew what -had happened. - -This was her art, Edmund knew, and he appreciated it as it deserved. - -She appreciated him as he deserved, he also acknowledged; for she had -never tried to switch him on to any of her girls. By never making love -to her he had proved himself to be no fit subject for the exercise of -her art. - -If a man truly loves a woman he will marry anyone whom she asks him to -marry. - -This, he knew, was the precept that Lady Innisfail inculcated upon the -young men--they were mostly very young men--who assured her that they -adored her. It rarely failed to bring them to their senses, she had -admitted to Edmund in the course of a confidential lapse. - -By bringing them to their senses she meant inducing them to ask the -right girls to marry them. - -Edmund felt that it was rather a pity that his friend Harold had never -adored Lady Innisfail. Harold had always liked her too well to make love -to her. This was rather a pity, Edmund felt. It practically disarmed -Lady Innisfail, otherwise she would have taken care that he made -straightforward love to Miss Craven. - -As for Harold, he strolled off with the yachtsmen, giving them to -understand that he intended sailing with them. The cutter was at her -moorings in the lough about a mile from the Castle, and there was a -narrow natural dock between the cliffs into which the dingey ran to -carry the party out to the yacht. - -It was at this point that Harold separated himself from the -yachtsmen--not without some mutterings on their part and the delivery of -a few reproaches with a fresh maritime flavour about them. - -"What was he up to at all?" they asked of one another. - -He could scarcely have told these earnest inquirers what he was up to. -But his mood would have been quite intelligible to them had they known -that he had, within the past half hour made up his mind to let nothing -interfere with his asking Helen Craven if she would be good enough to -marry him. - - - - -CHAPTER XII.--ON THE MYSTERY OF MAN. - -HE meant to ask her at night. He had felt convinced, on returning after -his adventure in his dinner dress, that nothing could induce him to -think of Miss Craven as a possible wife. While sitting at breakfast, -he had felt even more confident on this point; and yet now his mind was -made up to ask her to marry him. - -It must be admitted that his mood was a singular one, especially as, -with his mind full of his resolution to ask Miss Craven to marry him, -he was wandering around the rugged coastway, wondering by what means he -could bring himself by the side of the girl with whom he had crossed the -lough on the previous night. - -His mood will be intelligible to such persons as have had friends who -occasionally have found it necessary to their well-being to become -teetotallers. It is well known that the fascination of the prospect of -teetotalism is so great for such persons that the very thought of it -compels them to rush off in the opposite direction. They indulge in an -outburst of imbibing that makes even their best friends stand aghast, -and then they 'take the pledge' with the cheerfulness of a child. - -Harold Wynne felt inclined to allow his feelings an outburst, previous -to entering upon a condition in which he meant his feelings to be kept -in subjection. - -To engage himself to marry Miss Craven was, he believed, equivalent -to taking the pledge of the teetotaller so far as his feelings were -concerned. - -Meantime, however, he remained unpledged and with an unbounded sense of -freedom. - -And this was why he laughed loud and long when he saw in the course of -his stroll around the cliffs, a small oar jammed in a crevice of the -rocks a hundred feet below where he was walking. - -He laughed again when he had gone--not so cautiously as he might have -done--down to the crevice and released the oar. - -It was, he knew, the one that had gone adrift from the boat the previous -night. - -He climbed the cliff to the Banshee's Cave and deposited the piece of -timber in the recesses of that place. Then he lay down on the coarse -herbage at the summit of the cliff until it was time to drift to the -Castle for lunch. Life at the Castle involved a good deal of drifting. -The guests drifted out in many directions after breakfast and -occasionally drifted back to lunch, after which they drifted about until -the dinner hour. - -While taking lunch he was in such good spirits as made Lady Innisfail -almost hopeless of him. - -Edmund Airey had told her the previous night that Harold intended asking -Miss Craven to marry him. Now, however, perceiving how excellent were -his spirits, she looked reproachfully across the table at Edmund. - -She was mutely asking him--and he knew it--how it was possible to -reconcile Harold's good spirits with his resolution to ask Helen Craven -to marry him? She knew--and so did Edmund--that high spirits and the -Resolution are rarely found in association. - -An hour after lunch the girl with the Brow entreated Harold's critical -opinion on the subject of a gesture in the delivery of a certain poem, -and the discussion of the whole question occupied another hour. The -afternoon was thus pretty far advanced before he found himself seated -alone in the boat which had been at the disposal of himself and Edmund -during the two previous afternoons. The oar that he had picked up was -lying at his feet along the timbers of the boat. - -The sun was within an hour of setting when Brian appeared at the Castle -bearing a letter for Lady Innisfail. It had been entrusted to him for -delivery to her ladyship by Mr. Wynne, he said. Where was Mr. Wynne? -That Brian would not take upon him to say; only he was at the opposite -side of the lough. Maybe he was with Father Conn, who was the best -of good company, or it wasn't a bit unlikely that it was the District -Inspector of the Constabulary he was with. Anyhow it was sure that the -gentleman had took a great fancy to the queer places along the coast, -for hadn't he been to the thrubble to give a look in at the Banshee's -Cave, the previous night, just because he was sthruck with admiration of -the story of the Princess that he, Brian, had told him and Mr. Airey in -the boat? - -The letter that Lady Innisfail received and glanced at while drinking -tea on one of the garden seats outside the Castle, begged her ladyship -to pardon the writer's not appearing at dinner that night, the fact -being that he had unexpectedly found an old friend who had taken -possession of him. - -"It was very nice of him to write, wasn't it, my dear?" Lady Innisfail -remarked to her friend Miss Craven, who was filtering a novel by a -popular French author for the benefit of Lady Innisfail. "It was very -nice of him to write. Of course that about the friend is rubbish. The -charm of this neighbourhood is that no old friend ever turns up." - -"You don't think that--that--perhaps--" suggested Miss Craven with the -infinite delicacy of one who has been employed in the filtration of Paul -Bourget. - -"Not at all--not at all," said Lady Innisfail, shaking her head. "If it -was his father it would be quite another matter." - -"Oh!" - -"Lord Fotheringay is too great a responsibility even for me, and I don't -as a rule shirk such things," said Lady Innisfail. "But Harold is--well, -I'll let you into a secret, though it is against myself: he has never -made love even to me." - -"That is inexcusable," remarked Miss Craven, with a little movement -of the eyebrows. She did not altogether appreciate Lady Innisfail's -systems. She had not a sufficient knowledge of dynamics and the -transference of energy to be able to understand the beauty of the -"switch" principle. "But if he is not with a friend--or--or--the -other--" - -"The enemy--our enemy?" - -"Where can he be--where can he have been?" - -"Heaven knows! There are some things that are too wonderful for me. I -fancied long ago that I knew Man. My dear Helen, I was a fool. Man is -a mystery. What could that boy mean by going to the Banshee's Cave last -night, when he might have been dancing with me--or you?" - -"Romance?" - -"Romance and rubbish mean the same thing to such men as Harold Wynne, -Helen--you should know so much," said Lady Innisfail. "That is, of -course, romance in the abstract. The flutter of a human white frock -would produce more impression on a man than a whole army of Banshees." - -"And yet the boatman said that Mr. Wynne had spent some time last -night at the Cave," said Miss Craven. "Was there a white dress in the -question, do you fancy?" - -Lady Innisfail turned her large and luminous eyes upon her companion. -So she was accustomed to turn those orbs upon such young men as declared -that they adored her. The movement was supposed to be indicative of -infinite surprise, with abundant sympathy, and a trace of pity. - -Helen Craven met the luminous gaze with a smile, that broadened as she -murmured, "Dearest Lilian, we are quite alone. It is extremely unlikely -that your expression can be noticed by any of the men. It is practically -wasted." - -"It is the natural and reasonable expression of the surprise I feel at -the wisdom of the--the--" - -"Serpent?" - -"Not quite. Let us say, the young matron, lurking beneath the -harmlessness of the--the--let us say the _ingenue_. A white dress! Pray -go on with '_Un Cour de Femme'._" - -Miss Craven picked up the novel which had been on the ground, flattened -out in a position of oriental prostration and humility before the wisdom -of the women. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII.--ON THE ART OF COLOURING. - -THE people of the village of Ballycruiskeen showed themselves quite -ready to enter into the plans of their pastor in the profitable -enterprise of making entertainment for Lady Innisfail and her guests. -The good pastor had both enterprise and imagination. Lady Innisfail had -told him confidentially that day that she wished to impress her English -visitors with the local colour of the region round about. Local colour -was a phrase that she was as fond of as if she had been an art critic; -but it so happened that the pastor had never heard the phrase before; -he promptly assured her, however, that he sympathized most heartily with -her ladyship's aspirations in this direction. Yes, it was absolutely -necessary that they should be impressed with the local colour, and if, -with this impression, there came an appreciation of the requirements of -the chapel in the way of a new roof, it would please him greatly. - -The roof would certainly be put on before the winter, even if the work -had to be carried out at the expense of his Lordship, Lady Innisfail -said with enthusiasm; and if Father Constantine could only get up a wake -or a dance or some other festivity for the visitors, just to show them -how picturesque and sincere were the Irish race in the West, she would -take care that the work on the roof was begun without delay. - -Father Constantine--he hardly knew himself by that name, having -invariably been called Father Conn by his flock--began to have a -comprehensive knowledge of what was meant by the phrase "local colour." -Did her ladyship insist on a wake, he inquired. - -Her ladyship said she had no foolish prejudices in the matter. She was -quite willing to leave the whole question of the entertainment in the -hands of his reverence. He knew the people best and he would be able to -say in what direction their abilities could be exhibited to the greatest -advantage. She had always had an idea, she confessed, that it was at -a wake they shone; but, of course, if Father Constantine thought -differently she would make no objection, but she would dearly like a -wake. - -The priest did not even smile for more than a minute; but he could not -keep that twinkle out of his eyes even if the chapel walls in addition -to the roof depended on his self-control. - -He assured her ladyship that she was perfectly right in her ideas. He -agreed with her that the wake was the one festivity that was calculated -to bring into prominence the varied talents of his flock. But the -unfortunate thing about it was its variableness. A wake was something -that could not be arranged for beforehand--at least not without -involving a certain liability to criminal prosecution. The elements of -a wake were simple enough, to be sure, but simple and all as they were, -they were not always forthcoming. - -Lady Innisfail thought this very provoking. Of course, expense was no -consideration--she hoped that the pastor understood so much. She hoped -he understood that if he could arrange for a wake that night she would -bear the expense. - -The priest shook his head. - -Well, then, if a wake was absolutely out of the question--she didn't see -why it should be, but, of course, he knew best--why should he not get up -an eviction? She thought that on the whole the guests had latterly heard -more about Irish evictions than Irish wakes. There was plenty of local -colour in an eviction, and so far as she could gather from the -pictures she had seen in the illustrated papers, it was extremely -picturesque--yes, when the girls were barefooted, and when there was -active resistance. Hadn't she heard something about boiling water? - -The twinkle had left the priest's eyes as she prattled away. He had an -impulse to tell her that it was the class to which her ladyship belonged -and not that to which he belonged, who had most practice in that form of -entertainment known as the eviction. But thinking of the chapel roof, he -restrained himself. After all, Lord Innisfail had never evicted a family -on his Irish estate. He had evicted several families on his English -property, however; but no one ever makes a fuss about English evictions. -If people fail to pay their rent in England they know that they must go. -They have not the imagination of the Irish. - -"I'll tell your ladyship what it is," said Father Conn, before she had -quite come to the end of her prattle: "if the ladies and gentlemen who -have the honour to be your ladyship's guests will take the trouble to -walk or drive round the coast to the Curragh of Lamdhu after supper--I -mean dinner--to-night, I'll get up a celebration of the Cruiskeen for -you all." - -"How delightful!" exclaimed her ladyship. "And what might a celebration -of the Cruiskeen be?" - -It was at this point that the imagination of the good father came to his -assistance. He explained, with a volubility that comes to the Celt -only when he is romancing, that the celebration of the Cruiskeen was -a prehistoric rite associated with the village of Ballycruiskeen. -Cruiskeen was, as perhaps her ladyship had heard, the Irish for a vessel -known to common people as a jug--it was, he explained, a useful vessel -for drinking out of--when it held a sufficient quantity. - -Of course Lady Innisfail had heard of a jug--she had even heard of a -song called "The Cruiskeen Lawn"--did that mean some sort of jug? - -It meant the little full jug, his reverence assured her. Anyhow, the -celebration of the Cruiskeen of Ballycruiskeen had taken place -for hundreds--most likely thousands--of years at the Curragh of -Lamdhu--Lamdhu meaning the Black Hand--and it was perhaps the most -interesting of Irish customs. Was it more interesting than a wake? Why, -a wake couldn't hold a candle to a Cruiskeen, and the display of candles -was, as probably her ladyship knew, a distinctive feature of a wake. - -Father Conn, finding how much imaginary archæology Lady Innisfail would -stand without a protest, then allowed his imagination to revel in -the details of harpers--who were much more genteel than fiddlers, he -thought, though his flock preferred the fiddle--of native dances and -of the recitals of genuine Irish poems--probably prehistoric. All these -were associated with a Cruiskeen, he declared, and a Cruiskeen her -ladyship and her ladyship's guests should have that night, if there was -any public spirit left in Ballycruiskeen, and he rather thought that -there was a good deal still left, thank God! - -Lady Innisfail was delighted. Local colour! Why, this entertainment was -a regular Winsor and Newton Cabinet. - -It included everything that people in England were accustomed to -associate with the Irish, and this was just what the guests would -relish. It was infinitely more promising than the simple national dance -for which she had been trying to arrange. - -She shook Father Conn heartily by the hand, but stared at him when he -made some remark about the chapel roof--she had already forgotten all -about the roof. - -The priest had not. - -"God forgive me for my romancing!" he murmured, when her ladyship had -departed and he stood wiping his forehead. "God forgive me! If it wasn't -for the sake of the slate or two, the ne'er a word but the blessed truth -would have been forced from me. A Cruiskeen! How was it that the notion -seized me at all?" - -He hurried off to an ingenious friend and confidential adviser of his, -whose name was O'Flaherty, and who did a little in the horse-dealing -line--a profession that tends to develop the ingenuity of those -associated with it either as buyers or sellers--and Mr. O'Flaherty, -after hearing Father Conn's story, sat down on the side of one of the -ditches, which are such a distinctive feature of Ballycruiskeen and the -neighbourhood, and roared with laughter. - -"Ye've done it this time, and no mistake, Father Conn," he cried, when -he had partially recovered from his hilarity. "I always said you'd do it -some day, and ye've done it now. A Cruiskeen! Mother of Moses! A -Cruiskeen! Oh, but it's yourself has the quare head, Father Conn!" - -"Give over your fun, and tell us what's to be done--that's what you're -to do if there's any good in you at all," said the priest. - -"Oh, by my soul, ye'll have to carry out the enterprise in your own way, -my brave Father Conn," said Mr. O'Flaherty. "A Cruiskeen! A----" - -"Phinny O'Flaherty," said the priest solemnly, "if ye don't want to have -the curse of the Holy Church flung at that red head of yours, ye'll rise -and put me on the way of getting up at least a jig or two on the Curragh -this night." - -After due consideration Mr. O'Flaherty came to the conclusion that it -would be unwise on his part to put in motion the terrible machinery -of the Papal Interdict--if the forces of the Vatican were to be -concentrated upon him he might never again be able to dispose of a -"roarer" as merely a "whistler" to someone whose suspicions were -susceptible of being lulled by a brogue. Mr. Phineas O'Flaherty -consequently assured Father Conn that he would help his reverence, even -if the act should jeopardize his prospects of future happiness in -another world. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV.--ON AN IRISH DANCE. - -LADY INNISFAIL'S guests--especially those who had been wandering over -the mountains with guns all day--found her rather too indefatigable -in her search for new methods of entertaining them. The notion of an -after-dinner stroll of a few miles to the village of Ballycruiskeen -for the sake of witnessing an entertainment, the details of which Lady -Innisfail was unable to do more than suggest, and the attractions of -which were rather more than doubtful, was not largely relished at the -Castle. - -Lord Innisfail announced his intention of remaining where he had dined; -but he was one of the few men who could afford to brave Lady Innisfail's -disdain and to decline to be chilled by her cold glances. The other men -who did not want to be entertained on the principles formulated by Lady -Innisfail, meanly kept out of her way after dinner. They hoped that they -might have a chance of declaring solemnly afterwards, that they had been -anxious to go, but had waited in vain for information as to the hour of -departure, the costume to be worn, and the password--if a password were -needed--to admit them to the historic rites of the Cruiskeen. - -One of the women declined to go, on the ground that, so far as she could -gather, the rite was not evangelical. Her views were evangelical. - -One of the men--he was an Orangeman from Ulster--boldly refused to -attend what was so plainly a device planned by the Jesuits for the -capture of the souls--he assumed that they had souls--of the Innisfail -family and their guests. - -Miss Craven professed so ardently to be looking forward to the -entertainment, that Mr. Airey, with his accustomed observance of the -distribution of high lights in demeanour as well as in conversation. -felt certain that she meant to stay at the Castle. - -His accuracy of observation was proved when the party were ready to -set out for Ballycruiskeen. MIss Craven's maid earned that lady's -affectionate regards to her hostess; she had been foolish enough to sit -in the sun during the afternoon with that fascinating novel, and as she -feared it would, her indiscretion had given her a headache accompanied -by dizziness. She would thus be unable to go with the general party -to the village, but if she possibly could, she would follow them in an -hour--perhaps less. - -Edmund Airey smiled the smile of the prophet who lives to see his -prediction realized--most of the prophets died violent deaths before -they could have that gratification. - -"Yes, it was undoubtedly an indiscretion," he murmured. - -"Sitting in the sun?" said Lady Innisfail. - -"Reading Paul Bourget," said he. - -"Of course," said Lady Innisfail. "Talking of indiscretions, has anyone -seen--ah, never mind." - -"It is quite possible that the old friend whom you say he wrote about, -may be a person of primitive habits--he may be inclined to retire -early," said Mr. Airey. - -Lady Innisfail gave a little puzzled glance at him--the puzzled -expression vanished in a moment, however, before the ingenuousness of -his smile. - -"What a fool I am becoming!" she whispered. "I really never thought of -that." - -"That was because you never turned your attention properly to the -mystery of the headache," said he. - -Then they set off in the early moonlight for their walk along the cliff -path that, in the course of a mile or so, trended downward and through -the Pass of Lamdhu, with its dark pines growing half-way up the slope on -one side. The lower branches of the trees stretched fantastic arms over -the heads of the party walking on the road through the Pass. In -the moonlight these fantastic arms seemed draped. The trees seemed -attitudinizing to one another in a strange pantomime of their own. - -The village of Ballycruiskeen lay just beyond the romantic defile, -so that occasionally the inhabitants failed to hear the sound of the -Atlantic hoarsely roaring as it was being strangled in the narrow part -of the lough. They were therefore sometimes merry with a merriment -impossible to dwellers nearer the coast. - -It did not appear to their visitors that this was one of their merry -nights. The natives were commanded by their good priest to be merry for -"the quality," under penalties with which they were well acquainted. But -merriment under a penalty is no more successful than the smile which is -manufactured in a photographer's studio. - -Father Conn made the mistake of insisting on all the members of his -flock washing their faces. They had washed all the picturesqueness out -of them, Mr. Airey suggested. - -The Curragh of Ballycruiskeen was a somewhat wild moorland that -became demoralized into a bog at one extremity. There was, however, a -sufficiently settled portion to form a dancing green, and at one side -of this patch the shocking incongruity of chairs--of a certain sort--and -even a sofa--it was somewhat less certain--met the eyes of the visitors. - -"Mind this, ye divils," the priest was saying in an affectionate way to -the members of his flock, as the party from the Castle approached. "Mind -this, it's dancing a new roof on the chapel that ye are. Every step ye -take means a slate, so it does." - -This was clearly the peroration of the pastor's speech. - -The speech of Mr. Phineas O'Flaherty, who was a sort of unceremonious -master of the ceremonies, had been previously delivered, fortunately -when the guests were out of hearing. - -At first the entertainment seemed to be a very mournful one. It was -too like examination day at a village school to convey an idea of -spontaneous mirth. The "quality" sat severely on the incongruous -chairs--no one was brave enough to try the sofa--and some of the -"quality" used double eye-glasses with handles, for the better inspection -of the performers. This was chilling to the performers. - -In spite of the efforts of Father Conn and his stage manager, Mr. -O'Flaherty, the members of the cast for the entertainment assumed a -huddled appearance that did themselves great injustice. They declined to -group themselves effectively, but suggested to Mr. Durdan--who was -not silent on the subject--one of the illustrations to Foxe's Book of -Martyrs--a scene in which about a score of persons about to be martyred -are shown to be awaiting, with an aspect of cheerful resignation that -deceived no one, their "turn" at the hands of the executioner. - -The merry Irish jig had a depressing effect at first. The priest was -well-meaning, but he had not the soul of an artist. When a man has -devoted all his spare moments for several years to the repression of -unseemly mirth, he is unwise to undertake, at a moment's notice, the -duties of stimulating such mirth. Under the priest's eye the jig was -robbed of its jiguity, so to speak. It was the jig of the dancing class. - -Mr. O'Flaherty threatened to scandalize Father Conn by a few -exclamations about the display of fetlocks--the priest had so little -experience of the "quality" that he fancied a suggestion of slang -would be offensive to their ears. He did not know that the hero of the -"quality" in England is the costermonger, and that a few years ago the -hero was the cowboy. But Edmund Airey, perceiving with his accustomed -shrewdness, how matters stood, managed to draw the priest away from -the halfhearted exponents of the dance, and so questioned him on the -statistics of the parish--for Father Conn was as hospitable with his -statistics as he was with his whiskey punch upon occasions--that half an -hour had passed before they returned together to the scene of the dance, -the priest with a five-pound note of Mr. Airey's pressed against his -heart. - -"Murder alive! what's this at all at all?" cried Father Conn, becoming -aware of the utterance of whoop after whoop by the dancers. - -"It's the jig they're dancin' at last, an' more power to thim!" cried -Phineas O'Flaherty, clapping his hands and giving an encouraging whoop -or two. - -He was right. The half dozen couples artistically dishevelled, and -rapidly losing the baleful recollections of having been recently tidied -up to meet the "quality"--rapidly losing every recollection of the -critical gaze of the "quality"--of the power of speech possessed by -the priest--of everything, clerical and lay, except the strains of the -fiddle which occupied an intermediate position between things lay and -clerical, being wholly demoniac--these half dozen couples were dancing -the jig with a breadth and feeling that suggested the youth of the world -and the reign of Bacchus. - -Black hair flowing in heavy flakes over shoulders unevenly bare--shapely -arms flung over heads in an attitude of supreme self-abandonment--a -passionate advance, a fervent retreat, then an exchange of musical cries -like wild gasps for breath, and ever, ever, ever the demoniac music of -the fiddle, and ever, ever, ever the flashing and flying from the ground -like the feet of the winged Hermes--flashing and flashing with the -moonlight over all, and the fantastic arms of the hill-side pines -stretched out like the fringed arms of a grotesque Pierrot--this was the -scene to which the priest returned with Edmund Airey. - -He threw up his hands and was about to rush upon the half-frenzied -dancers, when Edmund grasped him by the arm, and pointed mutely to the -attitude of the "quality." - -Lady Innisfail and her friends were no longer sitting frigidly on their -chairs--the double eye-glasses were dropped, and those who had held them -were actually joining in the whoops of the dancers. Her ladyship was -actually clapping her hands in the style of encouragement adopted by Mr. -O'Flaherty. - -The priest stood in the attitude in which he had been arrested by the -artful Edmund Airey. His eyes and his mouth were open, and his right -hand was pressed against the five-pound note that he had just received. -There was a good deal of slate-purchasing potentialities in a five-pound -note. If her ladyship and her guests were shocked--as the priest, -never having heard of the skirt dance and its popularity in the -drawing-room--believed they should be, they were not displaying -their indignation in a usual way. They were almost as excited as the -performers. - -Father Conn seated himself without a word of protest, in one of the -chairs vacated by the Castle party. He felt that if her ladyship liked -that form of entertainment, the chapel roof was safe. The amount of -injury that would be done to the Foul Fiend by the complete re-roofing -of the chapel should certainly be sufficient to counteract whatever sin -might be involved in the wild orgy that was being carried on beneath the -light of the moon. This was the consolation that the priest had as he -heard whoop after whoop coming from the dancers. - -Six couples remained on the green dancing-space. The fiddler was a -wizened, deformed man with small gleaming eyes. He stood on a stool and -kept time with one foot. He increased the time of the dance so gradually -as to lead the dancers imperceptibly on until, without being aware of -it, they had reached a frenzied pitch that could not be maintained for -many minutes. But still the six couples continued wildly dancing, the -moonlight striking them aslant and sending six black quivering shadows -far over the ground. Suddenly a man dropped out of the line and lay -gasping on the grass. Then a girl flung herself with a cry into the arms -of a woman who was standing among the onlookers. Faster still and faster -went the grotesquely long arms of the dwarf fiddler--his shadow cast by -the moonlight was full of horrible suggestions--and every now and again -a falsetto whoop came from him, his teeth suddenly gleaming as his lips -parted in uttering the cry. - -The two couples, who now remained facing one another, changing feet with -a rapidity that caused them to appear constantly off the ground, were -encouraged by the shouts and applause of their friends. The air was full -of cries, in which the spectators from the Castle joined. Faster still -the demoniac music went, every strident note being clearly heard above -the shouts. But when one of the two couples staggered wildly and fell -with outstretched arms upon the grass, the shriek of the fiddle sounded -but faintly above the cries. - -The priest could restrain himself no longer. He sprang to his feet -and kicked the stool from under the fiddler, sending the misshapen man -sprawling in one direction and his instrument with an unearthly shriek -in another. - -Silence followed that shriek. It lasted but a few seconds, however. -The figure of a man--a stranger--appeared running across the open space -between the village and the Curragh, where the dance was being held. - -He held up his right hand in so significant a way, that the priest's -foot was arrested in the act of implanting another kick upon the -stool, and the fiddler sat up on the ground and forgot to look for his -instrument through surprise at the apparition. - -"It's dancin' at the brink of the grave, ye are," gasped the man, as he -approached the group that had become suddenly congested in anticipation -of the priest's wrath. - -"Why, it's only Brian the boatman, after all," said Lady Innisfail. -"Great heavens! I had such a curious thought as he appeared. Oh, that -dancing! He did not seem to be a man." - -"This is no doubt part of the prehistoric rite," said Mr. Airey. - -"How simply lovely!" cried Miss Stafford. - -"In God's name, man, tell us what you mean," said the priest. - -"It's herself," gasped Brian. "It's the one that's nameless. Her wail is -heard over all the lough--I heard it with my ears and hurried here for -your reverence. Don't we know that she never cries except for a death?" - -"He means the Banshee," said Lady Innisfail. - -"The people, I've heard, think it unlucky to utter her name." - -"So lovely! Just like savages!" said Miss Stafford. - -"I dare say the whole thing is only part of the ceremony of the -Cruiskeen," said Mr. Durdan. - -"Brian O'Donal," said the priest; "have you come here to try and terrify -the country side with your romancin'?" - -"By the sacred Powers, your reverence, I heard the cry of her myself, -as I came by the bend of the lough. If it's not the truth that I'm after -speaking, may I be the one that she's come for." - -"Doesn't he play the part splendidly?" said Lady Innisfail. "I'd -almost think that he was in earnest. Look how the people are crossing -themselves." - -Miss Stafford looked at them through her double eye-glasses with the -long handle. - -"How lovely!" she murmured. "The Cruiskeen is the Oberammergau of -Connaught." - -Edmund Airey laughed. - -"God forgive us all for this night!" said the priest. "Sure, didn't I -think that the good that would come of getting on the chapel roof would -cover the shame of this night! Go to your cabins, my children. You -were not to blame. It was me and me only. My Lady"--he turned to the -Innisfail party--"this entertainment is over. God knows I meant it for -the best." - -"But we haven't yet heard the harper," cried Lady Innisfail. - -"And the native bards," said Miss Stafford. "I should so much like to -hear a bard. I might even recite a native poem under his tuition." - -Miss Stafford saw a great future for native Irish poetry in English -drawing-rooms. It might be the success of a season. - -"The entertainment's over," said the priest. - -"It's that romancer Brian, that's done it all," cried Phineas -O'Flaherty. - -"Mr. O'Flaherty, if it's not the truth may I--oh, didn't I hear her -voice, like the wail of a girl in distress?" cried Brian. - -"Like what?" said Mr. Airey. - -"Oh, you don't believe anything--we all know that, sir," said Brian. - -"A girl in distress--I believe in that, at any rate," said Edmund. - -"Now!" said Miss Stafford, "don't you think that I might recite -something to these poor people?" She turned to Lady Innisfail. "Poor -people! They may never have heard a real recitation--'The Dove Cote,' -'Peter's Blue Bell'--something simple." - -There was a movement among her group. - -"The sooner we get back to the Castle the better it will be for all of -us," said Lady Innisfail. "Yes, Father Constantine, we distinctly looked -for a native bard, and we are greatly disappointed. Who ever heard of a -genuine Cruiskeen without a native bard? Why, the thing's absurd!" - -"A Connaught Oberammergau without a native bard! _Oh, Padre mio--Padre -mio!_" said Miss Stafford, daintily shaking her double eye-glasses at -the priest. - -"My lady," said he, "you heard what the man said. How would it be -possible for us to continue this scene while that warning voice is in -the air?" - -"If you give us a chance of hearing the warning voice, we'll forgive you -everything, and say that the Cruiskeen is a great success," cried Lady -Innisfail. - -"If your ladyship takes the short way to the bend of the lough you may -still hear her," said Brian. - -"God forbid," said the priest. - -"Take us there, and if we hear her, I'll give you half a sovereign," -cried her ladyship, enthusiastically. - -"If harm comes of it don't blame me," said Brian. "Step out this way, my -lady." - -"We may still be repaid for our trouble in coming so far," said one of -the party. "If we do actually hear the Banshee, I, for one, will feel -more than satisfied." - -Miss Stafford, as she hurried away with the party led by Brian, wondered -if it might not be possible to find a market for a Banshee's cry in a -London drawing-room. A new emotion was, she understood, eagerly awaited. -The serpentine dance and the costermonger's lyre had waned. It was -extremely unlikely that they should survive another season. If she were -to be first in the field with the Banshee's cry, introduced with a few -dainty steps of the jig incidental to a poem with a refrain of "Asthore" -or "Mavourneen," she might yet make a name for herself. - - - - -CHAPTER XV.--ON THE SHRIEK. - -IN a space of time that was very brief, owing to the resolution with -which Lady Innisfail declined to accept the suggestion of short cuts -by Brian, the whole party found themselves standing breathless at the -beginning of the line of cliffs. A mist saturated with moonlight had -drifted into the lough from the Atlantic. It billowed below their eyes -along the surface of the water, and crawled along the seared faces of -the cliffs, but no cold fingers of the many-fingered mist clasped the -higher ridges. The sound of the crashing of the unseen waves about the -bases of the cliffs filled the air, but there was no other sound. - -"Impostor!" said Edmund Airy, turning upon Brian. "You heard no White -Lady to-night. You have jeopardized our physical and your spiritual -health by your falsehood." - -"You shall get no half sovereign from me," said Lady Innisfail. - -"Is it me that's accountable for her coming and going?" cried Brian, -with as much indignation as he could afford. Even an Irishman cannot -afford the luxury of being indignant with people who are in the habit -of paying him well, and an Irishman is ready to sacrifice much to -sentiment. "It's glad we should all be this night not to hear the voice -of herself." - -Lady Innisfail looked at him. She could afford to be indignant, and -she meant to express her indignation; but when it came to the point she -found that it was too profound to be susceptible of expression. - -"Oh, come away," she said, after looking severely at Brian for nearly a -minute. - -"Dear Lady Innisfail," said Mr. Durdan, "I know that you feel indignant, -fancying that we have been disappointed. Pray do not let such an idea -have weight with you for a moment." - -"Oh, no, no," said Miss Stafford, who liked speaking in public quite -as well as Mr. Durdan. "Oh, no, no; you have done your best, dear Lady -Innisfail. The dance was lovely; and though, of course, we should have -liked to hear a native bard or two, as well as the Banshee--" - -"Yet bards and Banshees we know to be beyond human control," said Mr. -Airey. - -"We know that if it rested with you, we should hear the Banshee every -night," said Mr. Durdan. - -"Yes, we all know your kindness of heart, dear Lady Innisfail," resumed -Miss Stafford. - -"Indeed you should hear it, and the bard as well," cried Lady Innisfail. -"But as Mr. Airey says--and he knows all about bard and Banshees and -such like things Great heaven! We are not disappointed after all, thank -heaven!" - -Lady Innisfail's exclamation was uttered after there floated to the -cliffs where she and her friends were standing, from the rolling white -mist that lay below, the sound of a long wail. It was repeated, only -fainter, when she had uttered her thanksgiving, and it was followed by a -more robust shout. - -"Isn't it lovely?" whispered Lady Innisfail. - -"I don't like it," said Miss Stafford, with a shudder. "Let us go -away--oh, let us go away at once." - -Miss Stafford liked simulated horrors only. The uncanny in verse was -dear to her; but when, for the first time, she was brought face to face -with what would have formed the subject of a thrilling romance with a -suggestion of the supernatural, she shuddered. - -"Hush," said Lady Innisfail; "if we remain quiet we may hear it again." - -"I don't want to hear it again," cried Miss Stafford. "Look at the man. -He knows all about it. He is one of the natives." - -She pointed to Brian, who was on his knees on the rock muttering -petitions for the protection of all the party. - -He knew, however, that his half sovereign was safe, whatever might -happen. Miss Stafford's remark was reasonable. Brian should know all -about the Banshee and its potentialities of mischief. - -"Get up, you fool!" said Edmund Airey, catching the native by the -shoulder. "Don't you know as well as I do that a boat with someone -aboard is adrift in the mist?" - -"Oh, I know that you don't believe in anything." said Brian. - -"I believe in your unlimited laziness and superstition," said Edmund. -"I'm very sorry, my dear Lady Innisfail, to interfere with your -entertainment, but it's perfectly clear to me that someone is in -distress at the foot of the cliffs." - -"How can you be so horrid--so commonplace?" said Lady Innisfail. - -"He is one of the modern iconoclasts," said another of the group. -"He would fling down our most cherished beliefs. He told me that he -considered Madame Blavatsky a swindler." - -"Dear Mr. Airey," said Miss Stafford, who was becoming less timid as the -wail from the sea had not been repeated. "Dear Mr. Airey, let us entreat -of you to leave us our Banshee whatever you may take from us." - -"There are some things in heaven and earth that refuse to be governed by -a phrase," sneered Mr. Durdan. - -"Mules and the members of the Opposition are among them," said Edmund, -preparing to descend the cliffs by the zig-zag track. - -He had scarcely disappeared in the mist when there was a shriek from -Miss Stafford, and pointing down the track with a gesture, which for -expressiveness, she had never surpassed in the most powerful of her -recitations, she flung herself into Lady Innisfail's arms. - -"Great heavens!" cried Lady Innisfail. "It is the White Lady herself'!" - -"We're all lost, and the half sovereign's nothing here or there," said -Brian, in a tone of complete resignation. - -Out of the mist there seemed to float a white figure of a girl. She -stood for some moments with the faint mist around her, and while the -group on the cliff watched her--some of them found it necessary to cling -together--another white figure floated through the mist to the side of -the first, and then came another figure--that of a man--only he did not -float. - -"I wish you would not cling quite so close to me, my dear; I can't see -anything of what's going on," said Lady Innisfail to Miss Stafford, -whose head was certainly an inconvenience to Lady Innisfail. - -With a sudden, determined movement she shifted the head from her bosom -to her shoulder, and the instant that this feat was accomplished she -cried out, "Helen Craven!" - -"Helen Craven?" said Miss Stafford, recovering the use of her head in a -moment. - -"Yes, it's Helen Craven or her ghost that's standing there," said Lady -Innisfail. - -"And Harold Wynne is with her. Are you there, Wynne?" sang out Mr. -Durdan. - -"Hallo?" came the voice of Harold from below. "Who is there?" - -"Why, we're all here," cried Edmund, emerging from the mist at his side. -"How on earth did you get here?--and Miss Craven--and--he looked at the -third figure--he had never seen the third figure before. - -"Oh, it's a long story," laughed Harold. "Will you give a hand to Miss -Craven?" - -Mr. Airey said it would please him greatly to do so, and by his kindly -aid Miss Craven was, in the course of a few minutes, placed by the side -of Lady Innisfail. - -She took the place just vacated by Miss Stafford on Lady Innisfail's -bosom, and was even more embarrassing to Lady Innisfail than the other -had been. Helen Craven was heavier, to start with. - -But it was rather by reason of her earnest desire to see the strange -face, that Lady Innisfail found Helen's head greatly in her way. - -"Lady Innisfail, when Miss Craven is quite finished with you, I shall -present to you Miss Avon," said Harold. - -"I should be delighted," said Lady Innisfail. "Dearest Helen, can you -not spare me for a moment?" - -Helen raised her head. - -It was then that everyone perceived how great was the devastation done -by the mist to the graceful little curled fringes of her forehead. -Her hair was lank, showing that she had as massive a brow as Miss -Stafford's, if she wished to display it. - -"It is a great pleasure to me to meet you, Miss Avon; I'm sure that I -have often heard of you from Mr. Wynne and--oh, yes, many other people," -said Lady Innisfail. "But just now--well, you can understand that we are -all bewildered." - -"Yes, we are all bewildered," said Miss Avon. "You see, we heard the cry -of the White Lady--" - -"Of course," said Harold; "we heard it too. The White Lady was Miss -Craven. She was in one of the boats, and the mist coming on so suddenly, -she could not find her way back to the landing place. Luckily we were -able to take her boat in tow before it got knocked to pieces. I hope -Miss Craven did not over-exert herself." - -"I hope not," said Lady Innisfail. "What on earth induced you to go out -in a boat alone, Helen--and suffering from so severe a headache into the -bargain?" - -"I felt confident that the cool air would do me good," said Miss Craven. -somewhat dolefully. - -Lady Innisfail looked at her in silence for some moments, then she -laughed. - -No one else seemed to perceive any reason for laughter. - -Lady Innisfail then turned her eyes upon Miss Avon. The result of her -observation was precisely the same as the result of Harold's first sight -of that face had been. Lady Innisfail felt that she had never seen so -beautiful a girl. - -Then Lady Innisfail laughed again. - -Finally she looked at Harold and laughed for the third time. The space -of a minute nearly was occupied by her observations and her laughter. - -"I think that on the whole we should hasten on to the Castle," said she -at length. "Miss Craven is pretty certain to be fatigued--we are, at -any rate. Of course you will come with us, Miss Avon." - -The group on the cliff ceased to be a group when she had spoken; but -Miss Avon did not move with the others. Harold also remained by her -side. - -"I don't know what I should do," said Miss Avon. "The boat is at the -foot of the cliff." - -"It would be impossible for you to find your course so long as the mist -continues," said Harold. "Miss Avon and her father--he is an old friend -of mine--we breakfasted together at my college--are living in the White -House--you may have heard its name--on the opposite shore--only a mile -by sea, but six by land," he added, turning to Lady Innisfail. - -"Returning to-night is out of the question," said Lady Innisfail. "You -must come with us to the Castle for to-night. I shall explain all to -your father to-morrow, if any explanation is needed." Miss Avon shook -her head, and murmured a recognition of Lady Innisfail's kindness. - -"There is Brian," said Harold. "He will confront your father in the -morning with the whole story." - -"Yes, with the whole story," said Lady Innisfail, with an amusing -emphasis on the words. "I already owe Brian half a sovereign." - -"Oh, Brian will carry the message all for love," cried the girl. - -Lady Innisfail did her best to imitate the captivating freshness of the -girl's words. - -"All for love--all for love!" she cried. - -Harold smiled. He remembered having had brought under his notice a toy -nightingale that imitated the song of the nightingale so closely that -the Jew dealer, who wanted to sell the thing, declared that no one on -earth could tell the difference between the two. - -The volubility of Brian in declaring that he would do anything out of -love for Miss Avon was amazing. He went down the cliff face to bring the -boats round to the regular moorings, promising to be at the Castle in -half an hour to receive Miss Avon's letter to be put into her father's -hand at his hour of rising. - -By the time Miss Avon and Harold had walked to the Castle with Lady -Innisfail, they had acquainted her with a few of the incidents of the -evening--how they also had been caught by the mist while in their boat, -and had with considerable trouble succeeded in reaching the craft in -which Miss Craven was helplessly drifting. They had heard Miss Craven's -cry for help, they said, and Harold had replied to it. But still they -had some trouble picking up her boat. - -Lady Innisfail heard all the story, and ventured to assert that all was -well that ended well. - -"And this is the end," she cried, as she pointed to the shining hall -seen through the open doors. - -"Yes, this is the end of all--a pleasant end to the story," said the -girl. - -Harold followed them as they entered. - -He wondered if this was the end of the story, or only the beginning. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI.--ON THE VALUE OF A BAD CHARACTER. - -IT was said by some people that the judge, during his vacation, had -solved the problem set by the philosopher to his horse. He had learned -to live on a straw a day, only there was something perpetually at the -end of his straw--something with a preposterous American name in a -tumbler to match. - -He had the tumbler and the straw on a small table by his side while he -watched, with great unsteadiness, the strokes of the billiard players. - -From an hour after dinner he was in a condition of perpetual dozing. -This was his condition also from an hour after the opening of a case in -court, which required the closest attention to enable even the most -delicately appreciative mind to grasp even its simplest elements. - -He had, he said, been the most widely awake of counsel for thirty years, -so that he rather thought he was entitled to a few years dozing as a -judge. - -Other people--they were his admirers--said that his dozing represented -an alertness far beyond that of the most conscientiously wakeful and -watchful of the judicial establishment in England. - -It is easy to resemble Homer--in nodding--and in this special Homeric -quality the judge excelled; but it was generally understood that it -would not be wise to count upon his nodding himself into a condition of -unobservance. He had already delivered judgment on the character of the -fine cannons of one of the players in the hall, and upon the hazards of -the other. He had declined to mark the game, however, and he had -thereby shown his knowledge of human nature. There had already been -four disputes as to the accuracy of the marking. (It was being done by a -younger man). - -"How can a man expect to make his favourite break after some hours on -a diabolical Irish jaunting car?" one of the players was asking, as he -bent over the table. - -The words were uttered at the moment of Harold's entrance, close behind -Lady Innisfail and Miss Avon. - -Hearing the words he stood motionless before he had taken half-a-dozen -steps into the hall. - -Lady Innisfail also stopped at the same instant, and looked over her -shoulder at Harold. - -Through the silence there came the little click of the billiard balls. - -The speaker gave the instinctive twist of the practised billiard player -toward the pocket that he wished the ball to approach. Then he took a -breath and straightened himself in a way that would have made any close -observer aware of the fact that he was no longer a young man. - -There was, however, more than a suggestion of juvenility in his manner -of greeting Lady Innisfail. He was as effusive as is consistent with the -modern spirit of indifference to the claims of hostesses and all other -persons. - -He was not so effusive when he turned to Harold; but that was only to be -expected, because Harold was his son. - -"No, my boy," said Lord Fotheringay, "I didn't fancy that you would -expect to see me here to-night--I feel surprised to find myself here. It -seems like a dream to me--a charming dream-vista with Lady Innisfail at -the end of the vista. Innisfail always ruins his chances of winning a -game by attempting a screw back into the pocket. He leaves everything -on. You'll see what my game is now." - -He chalked his cue and bent over the table once more. - -Harold watched him make the stroke. "You'll see what my game is," said -Lord Fotheringay, as he settled himself down to a long break. - -Harold questioned it greatly. His father's games were rarely -transparent. - -"What on earth can have brought him?--oh, he takes one's breath away," -whispered Lady Innisfail to Harold, with a pretty fair imitation of a -smile lingering about some parts of her face. - -Harold shook his head. There was not even the imitation of a smile about -his face. - -Lady Innisfail gave a laugh, and turned quickly to Miss Avon. - -"My husband will be delighted to meet you, my dear," said she. "He is -certain to know your father." - -Harold watched Lord Innisfail shaking hands with Miss Avon at the -side of the billiard table, while his father bent down to make another -stroke. When the stroke was played he saw his father straighten himself -and look toward Miss Avon. - -The look was a long one and an interested one. Then the girl disappeared -with Lady Innisfail, and the look that Lord Fotheringay cast at his son -was a short one, but it was quite as intelligible to that soft as the -long look at Miss Avon had been to him. - -Harold went slowly and in a singularly contemplative mood to his -bedroom, whence he emerged in a space, wearing a smoking-jacket and -carrying a pipe and tobacco pouch. - -The smoking-jackets that glowed through the hall towards the last hour -of the day at Castle Innisfail were a dream of beauty. - -Lady Innisfail had given orders to have a variety of sandwiches and -other delicacies brought to the hall for those of her guests who had -attended the festivities at Ballycruiskeen; and when Harold found his -way downstairs, he perceived in a moment that only a few of the feeble -ones of the house-party--the fishermen who had touches of rheumatism and -the young women who cherished their complexions--were absent from the -hall. - -He also noticed that his father was seated by the side of Beatrice Avon -and that he was succeeding in making himself interesting to her. - -He knew that his father generally succeeded in making himself -interesting to women. - -In another part of the hall Lady Innisfail was succeeding in making -herself interesting to some of the men. She also was accustomed to -meet with success in this direction. She was describing to such as -had contrived to escape the walk to Ballycruiskeen, the inexhaustibly -romantic charm of the scene on the Curragh while the natives were -dancing, and the descriptions certainly were not deficient in colour. - -The men listened to her with such an aspect of being enthralled, she -felt certain that they were full of regret that they had failed to -witness the dance. It so happened, however, that the result of her -account of the scene was to lead those of her audience who had remained -at the Castle, to congratulate themselves upon a lucky escape. - -And all this time, Harold noticed that his father was making himself -interesting to Beatrice Avon. - -The best way for any man to make himself interesting to a woman is to -show himself interested in her. He knew that his father was well aware -of this fact, and that he was getting Beatrice Avon to tell him all -about herself. - -But when Lady Innisfail reached the final situation in her dramatic -account of the dance, and hurried her listeners to the brink of the -cliff--when she reproduced in a soprano that was still vibratory, the -cry that had sounded through the mist--when she pointed to Miss Avon -in telling of the white figure that had emerged from the mist--(Lady -Innisfail did not think it necessary to allude to Helen Craven, who had -gone to bed)--the auditors' interest was real and not simulated. They -looked at the white figure as Lady Innisfail pointed to her, and their -interest was genuine. - -They could at least appreciate this element of the evening's -entertainment, and as they glanced at Harold, who was eating a number of -sandwiches in a self-satisfied way, they thought that they might -safely assume that he was the luckiest of the _dramatis personae_ of the -comedy--or was it a tragedy?--described by Lady Innisfail. - -And all this time Harold was noticing that his father, by increasing -his interest in Beatrice, was making himself additionally interesting to -her. - -But the judge had also--at the intervals between his Homeric nods--been -noticing the living things around him. He put aside his glass and its -straw--he had been toying with it all the evening, though the liquid -that mounted by capillary attraction up the tube was something noisome, -without a trace of alcohol--and seated himself on the other side of the -girl. - -He assured her that he had known her father. Lord Fotheringay did not -believe him; but this was not to the point, and he knew it. What was to -the point was the fact that the judge understood the elements of the art -of interesting a girl almost as fully as Lord Fotheringay did, without -having quite made it the serious business of his life. The result was -that Miss Avon was soon telling the judge all about herself--this -was what the judge professed to be the most anxious to hear--and Lord -Fotheringay lit a cigar. - -He felt somewhat bitterly on the subject of the judge's intrusion. But -the feeling did not last for long. He reflected upon the circumstance -that Miss Avon could never have heard that he himself was a very wicked -man. - -He knew that the interest that attaches to a man with a reputation for -being very wicked is such as need fear no rival. He felt that should his -power to interest a young woman ever be jeopardized, he could still fall -back upon his bad character and be certain to attract her. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII.--ON PROVIDENCE AS A MATCH-MAKER. - -OF course," said Lady Innisfail to Edmund Airey the next day. "Of -course, if Harold alone had rescued Helen from her danger last night, -all would have been well. You know as well as I do that when a man -rescues a young woman from a position of great danger, he can scarcely -do less than ask her to marry him." - -"Of course," replied Edmund. "I really can't see how, if he has any -dramatic appreciation whatever, he could avoid asking her to marry him." - -"It is beyond a question," said Lady Innisfail. "So that if Harold had -been alone in the boat all would have been well. The fact of Miss Avon's -being also in the boat must, however, be faced. It complicates matters -exceedingly." - -Edmund shook his head gravely. - -"I knew that you would see the force of it," resumed Lady Innisfail. -"And then there is his father--his father must be taken into account." - -"It might be as well, though I know that Lord Fotheringay's views are -the same as yours." - -"I am sure that they are; but why, then, does he come here to sit by the -side of the other girl and interest her as he did last evening?" - -"Lord Fotheringay can never be otherwise than interesting, even to -people who do not know how entirely devoid of scruple he is." - -"Of course I know all that; but why should he come here and sit beside -so very pretty a girl as this Miss Avon?" - -"There is no accounting for tastes, Lady Innisfail. - -"You are very stupid, Mr. Airey. What I mean is, why should Lord -Fotheringay behave in such a way as must force his son's attention to be -turned in a direction that--that--in short, it should not be turned in? -Heaven knows that I want to do the best for Harold--I like him so well -that I could almost wish him to remain unmarried. But you know as well -as I do, that it is absolutely necessary for him to marry a girl with a -considerable amount of money." - -"That is as certain as anything can be. I gave him the best advice in -my power on this subject, and he announced his intention of asking Miss -Craven to marry him." - -"But instead of asking her he strolled round the coast to that wretched -cave, and there met, by accident, the other girl--oh, these other girls -are always appearing on the scene at the wrong moment." - -"The world would go on beautifully if it were not for the Other Girl." -said Edmund. "If you think of it, there is not an event in history that -has not turned upon the opportune or inopportune appearance of the Other -Girl. Nothing worth speaking of has taken place, unless by the agency of -the Other Girl." - -"And yet Lord Fotheringay comes here and sits by the side of this -charming girl, and his son watches him making himself interesting to her -as, alas! he can do but too easily. Mr. Airey, I should not be surprised -if Harold were to ask Miss Avon to-day to marry him--I should not, -indeed." - -"Oh, I think you take too pessimistic a view of the matter altogether, -Lady Innisfail. Anyhow, I don't see that we can do more than we have -already done. I think I should feel greatly inclined to let Providence -and Lord Fotheringay fight out the matter between them." - -"Like the archangel and the Other over the body of Moses?" - -"Well, something like that." - -"No, Mr. Airey; I don't believe in Providence as a match-maker." - -Mr. Airey gave a laugh. He wondered if it was possible that Harold -had mentioned to her that he, Edmund, had expressed the belief that -Providence as a match-maker had much to learn. - -"I don't see how we can interfere," said he. "I like Harold Wynne -greatly. He means to do something in the world, and I believe he will -do it. He affords a convincing example of the collapse of heredity as a -principle. I like him if only for that." - -Lady Innisfail looked at him in silence for a few moments. - -"Yes," she said, slowly. "Harold does seem to differ greatly from his -father. I wonder if it is the decree of Providence that has kept him -without money." - -"Do you suggest that the absence of money--?" - -"No, no; I suggest nothing. If a man must be wicked he'll be wicked -without money almost as readily as with it. Only I wonder, if Harold had -come in for the title and the property--such as it was--at the same age -as his father was when he inherited all, would he be so ready as you say -he is to do useful work on the side of the government of his country?" - -"That is a question for the philosophers," said Edmund. - -In this unsatisfactory way the conversation between Lady Innisfail and -Mr. Airey on the morning after Lord Fotheringay's arrival at the Castle, -came to an end. No conversation that ends in referring the question -under consideration to the philosophers, can by any possibility be -thought satisfactory. But the conversation could not well be continued -when Miss Craven, by the side of Miss Avon, was seen to be approaching. - -Edmund Airey turned his eyes upon the two girls, then they rested upon -the face of Beatrice. - -As she came closer his glance rested upon the eyes of Beatrice. The -result of his observation was to convince him that he had never before -seen such beautiful eyes. - -They were certainly gray; and they were as full of expression as gray -eyes can be. They were large, and to look into them seemed like looking -into the transparent depths of an unfathomed sea--into the transparent -heights of an inexhaustible heaven. - -A glimpse of heaven suggests the bliss of the beatified. A glimpse of -the ocean suggests shipwreck. - -He knew this perfectly well as he looked at her eyes; but only for an -instant did it occur to him that they conveyed some message to him. - -Before he had time to think whether the message promised the bliss of -the dwellers in the highest heaven, or the disaster of those who go down -into the depths of the deepest sea, he was inquiring from Helen Craven -if the chill of which she had complained on the previous night, had -developed into a cold. - -Miss Craven assured him that, so far from experiencing any ill effects -from her adventure, she had never felt better in all her life. - -"But had it not been for Miss Avon's hearing my cries of despair, -goodness knows where I should have been in another ten minutes," she -added, putting her arm round Miss Avon's waist, and looking, as Edmund -had done, into the mysterious depths of Miss Avon's gray eyes. - -"Nonsense!" said Miss Avon. "To tell you the plain truth, I did not hear -your cries. It was Mr. Wynne who said he heard the White Lady wailing -for her lover." - -"How could he translate the cry so accurately?" said Edmund. "Do you -suppose that he had heard the Banshee's cry at the same place?" - -He kept his eyes upon Miss Avon's face, and he saw in a moment that she -was wondering how much he knew of the movements of Harold Wynne during -the previous two nights. - -Helen Craven looked at him also pretty narrowly. She was wondering if he -had told anyone that he had suggested to her the possibility of Harold's -being in the neighbourhood of the Banshee's Cave during the previous -evening. - -Both girls laughed in another moment, and then Edmund Airey laughed -also--in a sort of way. Lady Innisfail was the last to join in the -laugh. But what she laughed at was the way in which Edmund had laughed. - -And while this group of four were upon the northern terrace, Harold was -seated the side of his father on one of the chairs that faced the south. -Lord Fotheringay was partial to a southern aspect. His life might be -said to be a life of southern aspects. He meant that it should never be -out of the sun, not because some of the incidents that seemed to him to -make life worth preserving were such as could best stand the searching -light of the sun, but simply because his was the nature of the -butterfly. He was a butterfly of fifty-seven--a butterfly that found it -necessary to touch up with artificial powders the ravages of years upon -the delicate, downy bloom of youth--a butterfly whose wings had now and -again been singed by contact with a harmful flame--whose still shapely -body was now and again bent with rheumatism. Surely the rheumatic -butterfly is the most wretched of insects! - -He had fluttered away from a fresh singeing, he was assuring his son. -Yes, he had scarcely strength left in his wings to carry him out of the -sphere of influence of the flame. He had, he said in a mournful tone, -been very badly treated. She had treated him very badly. The Italian -nature was essentially false--he might have known it--and when an -Italian nature is developed with a high soprano, very shrill in its -upper register, the result was--well, the result was that the flame had -singed the wings of the elderly insect who was Harold's father. - -"Talk of money!" he cried, with so sudden an expression of emotion that -a few caked scraps of sickly, roseate powder fluttered from the -crinkled lines of his forehead--Talk of money! It was not a matter of -hundreds--he was quite prepared for that--but when the bill ran up to -thousands--thousands--thousands--oh, the whole affair was sickening. -(Harold cordially agreed with him, though he did not express himself to -this effect). Was it not enough to shake one's confidence in woman--in -human nature--in human art (operatic)--in the world? - -Yes, it was the Husband. - -The Husband, Lord Fotheringay was disposed to regard in pretty much -the same light as Mr. Airey regarded the Other Girl. The Husband was not -exactly the obstacle, but the inconvenience. He had a habit of turning -up, and it appeared that in the latest of Lord Fotheringay's experiences -his turning up had been more than usually inopportune. - -"That is why I followed so close upon the heels of my letter to you," -said the father. "The crash came in a moment--it was literally a -crash too, now that I think upon it, for that hot-blooded ruffian, her -husband, caught one corner of the table cloth--we were at supper--and -swept everything that was on the table into a corner of the room. Yes, -the bill is in my portmanteau. And she took his part. Heavens above! -She actually took his part. I was the scoundrel--_briccone!_--the coarse -Italian is still ringing in my ears. It was anything but a charming -duetto. He sang a basso--her upper register was terribly shrill--I had -never heard it more so. Artistically the scene was a failure; but I had -to run for all that. Humiliating, is it not, to be overcome by something -that would, if subjected to the recognized canons of criticism, be -pronounced a failure? And he swore that he would follow me and have my -life. Enough. You got my letter. Fortune is on your side, my boy. You -saved her life last night." - -"Whose life did I save?" asked the son. "Whose life? Heavens above! Have -you been saving more than one life?" - -"Not more than one--a good deal less than one. Don't let us get into -a sentimental strain, pater. You are the chartered--ah, the chartered -sentimentalist of the family. Don't try and drag me into your strain. -I'm not old enough. A man cannot pose as a sentimentalist nowadays until -he is approaching sixty." - -"Really? Then I shall have to pause for a year or two still. Let us put -that question aside for a moment. Should I be exceeding my privileges -if I were to tell you that I am ruined?--Financially ruined, I mean, -of course; thank heaven, I am physically as strong as I was--ah, three -years ago." - -"You said something about my allowance, I think." - -"If I did not I failed in my duty as a father, and I don't often do -that, my boy--thank God, I don't often do that." - -"No," said Harold. "If the whole duty of a father is comprised in -acquainting his son with the various reductions that he says he finds -it necessary to make in his allowance, you are the most exemplary of -fathers, pater." - -"There is a suspicion of sarcasm--or what is worse, epigram in that -phrase," said the father. "Never mind, you cannot epigram away the stern -fact that I have now barely a sufficient income to keep body and soul -together. I wish you could." - -"So do I," said Harold. "But yours is a _ménage à trois_. It is not -merely body and soul with your but body, soul, and sentiment--it is the -third element that is the expensive one." - -"I dare say you are right. Anyhow, I grieve for your position, my boy. -If it had pleased Heaven to make me a rich man, I would see that your -allowance was a handsome one." - -"But since it has pleased the other Power to make you a poor one--" - -"You must marry Miss Craven--that's the end of the whole matter, and an -end that most people would be disposed to regard as a very happy one, -too. She is a virtuous young woman, and what is better, she dresses -extremely well. What is best of all, she has several thousands a year." - -There was a suggestion of the eighteenth century phraseology in Lord -Fotheringay's speech, that made him seem at least a hundred years old. -Surely people did not turn up their eyes and talk of virtue since the -eighteenth century, Harold thought. The word had gone out. There was -no more need for it. The quality is taken for granted in the nineteenth -century. - -"You are a trifle over-vehement," said he. - -"Have I ever refused to ask Miss Craven to marry me?" - -"Have you ever asked her--that's the matter before us?" - -"Never. But what does that mean? Why, simply that I have before me -instead of behind me a most interesting quarter of an hour--I suppose -a penniless man can ask a wealthy woman inside a quarter of an hour, to -marry him. The proposition doesn't take longer in such a case than an -honourable one would." - -"You are speaking in a way that is not becoming in a son addressing his -father," said Lord Fotheringay. "You almost make me ashamed of you." - -"You have had no reason to be ashamed of me yet," said Harold. "So long -as I refrain from doing what you command me to do, I give you no cause -to be ashamed of me." - -"That is a pretty thing for a son to say," cried the father, -indignantly. - -"For heaven's sake don't let us begin a family broil under the windows -of a house where we are guests," said the son, rising quickly from the -chair. "We are on the border of a genuine family bickering. For God's -sake let us stop in time." - -"I did not come here to bicker," said the father. "Heavens above! Am -I not entitled to some show of gratitude at least for having come more -than a thousand miles--a hundred of them in an Irish train and ten of -them on an Irish jolting car--simply to see that you are comfortably -settled for life?" - -"Yes," said the son, "I suppose I should feel grateful to you for coming -so far to tell me that you are ruined and that I am a partner in your -ruin." He had not seated himself, and now he turned his back upon his -father and walked round to the west side of the Castle where some of -the girls were strolling. They were waiting to see how the day would -develop--if they should put on oilskins and sou'westers or gauzes -and gossamer--the weather on the confines of the ocean knows only the -extremes of winter or summer. - -The furthest of the watchers were, he perceived, Edmund Airey and Miss -Avon. He walked toward them, and pronounced in a somewhat irresponsible -way an opinion upon the weather. - -Before the topic had been adequately discussed, Mr. Durdan and another -man came up to remind Mr. Airey that he had given them his word to be of -their party in the fishing boat, where they were accustomed to study the -Irish question for some hours daily. - -Mr. Airey protested that his promise had been wholly a conditional one. -It had not been made on the assumption that the lough should be moaning -like a Wagnerian trombone, and it could not be denied that such notes -were being produced by the great rollers beneath the influence of a -westerly wind. - -Harold gave a little shrug to suggest to Beatrice that the matter was -not one that concerned her or himself in the least, and that it might -be as well if Mr. Airey and his friends were left to discuss it by -themselves. - -The shrug scarcely suggested all that he meant it to suggest, but in -the course of a minute he was by the side of the girl a dozen yards away -from the three men. - -"I wonder if you chanced to tell Mr. Airey of the queer way you and I -met," she said in a moment. - -"How could I have told any human being of that incident?" he cried. "Why -do you ask me such a question?" - -"He knows all about it--so much is certain," said she. "Oh, yes, he gave -me to understand so much--not with brutal directness, of course." - -"No, I should say not--brutal directness is not in his line," said -Harold. - -"But the result is just the same as if he had been as direct as--as a -girl." - -"As a girl?" - -"Yes. He said something about Miss Craven's voice having suggested -something supernatural to Brian, and then he asked me all at once if -there had been any mist on the previous evening when I had rowed across -the lough. Now I should like to know how he guessed that I had crossed -the lough on the previous night." - -"He is clever--diabolically clever," said Harold after a pause. "He was -with Miss Craven in the hall--they had been dancing--when I returned--I -noticed the way he looked at me. Was there anything in my face to tell -him that--that I had met you?" - -She looked at his face and laughed. - -"Your face," she said. "Your face--what could there have been apparent -on your face for Mr. Airey to read?" - -"What--what?" his voice was low. He was now looking into her gray eyes. -"What was there upon my face? I cannot tell. Was it a sense of doom? God -knows. Now that I look upon your face--even now I cannot tell whether I -feel the peace of God which passes understanding, or the doom of those -who go down to the sea and are lost." - -"I do not like to hear you speak in that way," said she. "It would be -better for me to die than to mean anything except what is peaceful and -comforting to all of God's creatures." - -"It would be better for you to die," said he. He took his eyes away from -hers. They stood side by side in silence for some moments, before he -turned suddenly to her and said in quite a different strain. "I shall -row you across the lough when you are ready. Will you go after lunch?" - -"I don't think that I shall be going quite so soon," said she. "The fact -is that Lady Innisfail was good enough to send Brian with another letter -to my father--a letter from herself, asking my father to come to the -Castle for a day or two, but, whether he comes or not, to allow me to -remain for some days." - -Again some moments passed before Harold spoke. - -"I want you to promise to let me know where you go when you leave -Ireland," said he. "I don't want to lose sight of you. The world is -large. I wandered about in it for nearly thirty years before meeting -you." - -She was silent. It seemed as if she was considering whether or not his -last sentence should be regarded as a positive proof of the magnitude of -the world. - -She appeared to come to the conclusion that it would be unwise to -discuss the question--after all, it was only a question of statistics. - -"If you wish it," said she, "I shall let you know our next -halting-place. I fancy that my poor father is less enthusiastic than he -was some years ago on the subject of Irish patriotism. At any rate, I -think that he has worked out all the battles fought in this region." - -"Only let me know where you go," said he. "I do not want to lose sight -of you. What did you say just now--peace and comfort to God's creatures? -No, I do not want to lose sight of you." - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII.--ON THE PROFESSIONAL MORALIST. - -THE people--Edmund Airey was one of them--who were accustomed to point -to Harold Wynne as an example of the insecurity of formulating any -definite theory of heredity, had no chance of being made aware of the -nature of the conversations in which he had taken part, or they might -not have been quite so ready to question the truth of that theory. - -His father had made it plain to him, both by letter and word of mouth, -that the proper course for him to pursue was one that involved asking -Helen Craven to marry him--the adoption of any other course, even a -prosaic one, would practically mean ruin to him; and yet he had gone -straight from the side of his father, not to the side of Miss Craven, -but to the side of Miss Avon. And not only had he done this, but he had -looked into the gray eyes of Beatrice when he should have been gazing -with ardour--or simulated ardour--into the rather lustreless orbs of -Helen. - -To do precisely the thing which he ought not to have done was certainly -a trait which he had inherited from his father. - -But he had not merely looked into the eyes of the one girl when he -should have been looking into those of the other girl, he had spoken -into her ears such words as would, if spoken into the ears of the other -girl, have made her happy. The chances were that the words which he -had spoken would lead to unhappiness. To speak such words had been -his father's weakness all his life, so that it seemed that Harold had -inherited this weakness also. - -Perhaps for a moment or two, after Edmund Airey had sauntered up, having -got the better of the argument with Mr. Durdan--he flattered -himself that he had invariably got the better of him in the House of -Commons--Harold felt that he was as rebellious against the excellent -counsels of his father as his father had ever been against the excellent -precepts which society has laid down for its own protection. He knew -that the circumstance of his father's having never accepted the good -advice which had been offered to him as freely as advice, good and bad, -is usually offered to people who are almost certain not to follow it, -did not diminish from the wisdom of the course which his father had -urged upon him to pursue. He had acknowledged to Edmund Airey some days -before, that the substance of the advice was good, and had expressed his -intention of following it--nay, he felt even when he had walked straight -from his father's side to indulge in that earnest look into the eyes of -Beatrice, that it was almost inevitable that he should take the advice -of his father; for however distasteful it may be, the advice of a father -is sometimes acted on by a son. But still the act of rebellion had been -pleasant to him--as pleasant to him as his father's acts of the same -character had been to his father. - -And all this time Helen Craven was making her usual elaborate -preparations for finishing her sketch of some local scene, and everyone -knew that she could not seek that scene unless accompanied by someone to -carry her umbrella and stool. - -Lord Fotheringay perceived this in a moment from his seat facing -the south. He saw that Providence was on the side of art, so to -speak--assuming that a water-colour sketch of a natural landscape by an -amateur is art, and assuming that Providence meant simply an opportunity -for his son to ask Miss Craven to marry him. - -Lord Fotheringay saw how Miss Craven lingered with her colour-box in one -hand and her stool in the other. What was she waiting for? He did not -venture to think that she was waiting for Harold to saunter up and take -possession of her apparatus, but he felt certain that if Harold were to -saunter up, Miss Craven's eyes would brighten--so far as such eyes as -hers could brighten. His teeth met with a snap that threatened the gold -springs when he saw some other man stroll up and express the hope that -Miss Craven would permit him to carry her stool and umbrella, for her -sketching umbrella was brought from the hall by a servant. - -Lord Fotheringay's indignation against his son was great afterwards. He -made an excellent attempt to express to Edmund Airey what he felt on -the subject of Harold's conduct, and Edmund shook his head most -sympathetically. - -What was to be done, Lord Fotheringay inquired. What was to be done in -order to make Harold act in accordance with the dictates not merely of -prudence but of necessity as well? - -Mr. Airey could not see that any positive action could be taken in order -to compel Harold to adopt the course which every sensible person would -admit was the right course--in fact the only course open to him under -the circumstances. He added that only two days ago Harold had admitted -that he meant to ask Miss Craven to marry him. - -"Heavens above!" cried Lord Fotheringay. "He never admitted so much to -me. Then what has occurred to change him within a few days?" - -"In such a case as this it is as well not to ask _what_ but _who_," -remarked Edmund. - -Lord Fotheringay looked at him eagerly. "Who--who--you don't mean -another girl?" - -"Why should I not mean another girl?" said Edmund. "You may have some -elementary acquaintance with woman, Lord Fotheringay." - -"I have--yes, elementary," admitted Lord Fotheringay. - -"Then surely you must have perceived that a man's attention is turned -away from one woman only by the appearance of another woman," said -Edmund. - -"You mean that--by heavens, that notion occurred to me the moment that I -saw her. She is a lovely creature, Airey." - -"'A gray eye or so!' said Airey." - -"A gray eye or so!" cried Lord Fotheringay, who had not given sufficient -attention to the works of Shakespeare to recognize a quotation. "A -gray--Oh, you were always a cold-blooded fellow. Such eyes, Airey, are -so uncommon as--ah, the eyes are not to the point. They only lend colour -to your belief that she is the other girl. Yes, that notion occurred to -me the moment she entered the hall." - -"I believe that but for her inopportune appearance Harold would now be -engaged to Miss Craven," said Edmund. - -"There's not the shadow of a doubt about the matter," cried Lord -Fotheringay--both men seemed to regard Miss Craven's acquiescence in -the scheme which they had in their minds, as outside the discussion -altogether. "Now what on earth did Lady Innisfail mean by asking a -girl with such eyes to stay here? A girl with such eyes has no business -appearing among people like us who have to settle our mundane affairs to -the best advantage. Those eyes are a disturbing influence, Airey. They -should never be seen while matters are in an unsettled condition. And -Lady Innisfail professes to be Harold's friend." - -"And so she is," said Edmund. "But the delight that Lady Innisfail -finds in capturing a strange face--especially when that face is -beautiful--overcomes all other considerations with her. That is why, -although anxious--she was anxious yesterday, though that is not saying -she is anxious today--to hear of Harold's proposing to Miss Craven, yet -she is much more anxious to see the effect produced by the appearance of -Miss Avon among her guests." - -"And this is a Christian country!" said Lord Fotheringay solemnly, after -a pause of considerable duration. - -"Nominally," said Mr. Airey, - -"What is society coming to, Airey, when a woman occupying the position -of Lady Innisfail, does not hesitate to throw all considerations of -friendship to the winds solely for the sake of a momentary sensation?" - -Lord Fotheringay was now so solemn that his words and his method of -delivering them suggested the earnestness of an evangelist--zeal is -always expected from an evangelist, though unbecoming in an ordained -clergyman. He held one finger out and raised it and lowered it with the -inflections of his voice with the skill of a professional moralist. - -He had scarcely spoken before Miss Avon, by the side of the judge and -Miss Innisfail, appeared on the terrace. - -The judge--he said he had known her father--was beaming on her. -Professing to know her father he probably considered sufficient -justification for beaming on her. - -Lord Fotheringay and his companion watched the girl in silence until she -and her companions had descended to the path leading to the cliffs. - -"Airey," said Lord Fotheringay at length. "Airey, that boy of mine must -be prevented from making a fool of himself--he must be prevented from -making a fool of that girl. I would not like to see such a girl as -that--I think you said you noticed her eyes--made a fool of." - -"It would be very sad," said Edmund. "But what means do you propose to -adopt to prevent the increase by two of the many fools already in the -world?" - -"I mean to marry the girl myself," cried Lord Fotheringay, rising to his -feet--not without some little difficulty, for rheumatism had for years -been his greatest enemy. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX.--ON MODERN SOCIETY. - -EDMUND AIREY had the most perfect command of his features under all -circumstances. While the members of the Front Opposition Benches were -endeavouring to sneer him into their lobby, upon the occasion of a -division on some question on which it was rumoured he differed from -the Government, he never moved a muscle. The flaunts and gibes may -have stung him, but he had never yet given an indication of feeling -the sting; so that if Lord Fotheringay looked for any of those twitches -about the corners of Mr. Airey's mouth, which the sudden announcement -of his determination would possibly have brought around the mouth of -an ordinary man, he must have had little experience of his companion's -powers. - -But that Lord Fotheringay felt on the whole greatly flattered by the -impassiveness of Edmund Airey's face after his announcement, Edmund -Airey did not for a moment doubt. When a man of fifty-seven gravely -announces his intention to another man of marrying a girl of, perhaps, -twenty, and with eyes of remarkable lustre, and when the man takes such -an announcement as the merest matter of course, the man who makes it has -some reason for feeling flattered. - -The chances are, however, that he succeeds in proving to his own -satisfaction that he has no reason for feeling flattered; for the man -of fifty-seven who is fool enough to entertain the notion of marrying a -girl of twenty with lustrous eyes, is certainly fool enough to believe -that the announcement of his intention in this respect is in no way out -of the common. - -Thus, when, after a glance concentrated upon the corners of Edmund -Airey's mouth, Lord Fotheringay resumed his seat and began to give -serious reasons for taking the step that he had declared himself ready -to take--reasons beyond the mere natural desire to prevent Miss Avon -from being made a fool of--he gave no indication of feeling in the least -flattered by the impassiveness of the face of his companion. - -Yes, he explained to Mr. Airey, he had been so badly treated by the -world that he had almost made up his mind to retire from the world--the -exact words in which he expressed that resolution were "to let the world -go to the devil in its own way." - -Now, as the belief was general that Lord Fotheringay's presence in the -world had materially accelerated its speed in the direction which he -had indicated, the announcement of his intention to allow it to proceed -without his assistance was not absurd. - -Yes, he had been badly treated by the world, he said. The world was very -wicked. He felt sad when he thought of the vast amount of wickedness -there was in the world, and the small amount of it that he had already -enjoyed. To be sure, it could not be said that he had quite lived the -life of the ideal anchorite: he admitted--and smacked his lips as he did -so--that he had now and again had a good time (Mr. Airey did not assume -that the word "good" was to be accepted in its Sunday-school sense) -but on the whole the result was disappointing. - -"As saith the Preacher," remarked Mr. Airey, when Lord Fotheringay -paused and shook his head so that another little scrap of caked powder -escaped from the depths of one of the wrinkles of his forehead. - -"The Preacher--what Preacher?" he asked. - -"The Preacher who cried _Vanitas Vanitatum_," said Edmund. - -"He had gone on a tour with an Italian opera company," said Lord -Fotheringay, "and he had fallen foul of the basso. Airey, my boy, -whatever you do, steer clear of a prima donna with a high soprano. It -means thousands--thousands, and a precipitate flight at the last. You -needn't try a gift of paste--the finest productions of the Ormuz -Gem Company--'a Tiara for Thirty Shillings'--you know their -advertisement--no, I've tried that. It was no use. The real thing -she would have--Heavens above! Two thousand pounds for a trinket, and -nothing to show for it, but a smashing of supper plates and a hurried -flight. Ah, Airey, is it any wonder that I should make up my mind -to live a quiet life with--I quite forget who was in my mind when I -commenced this interesting conversation?" - -"It makes no difference," said Mr. Airey. "The principle is precisely -the same. There is Miss Innisfail looking for someone, I must go to -her." - -"A desperately proper girl," said Lord Fotheringay. "As desperately -proper as if she had once been desperately naughty. These proper girls -know a vast deal. She scarcely speaks to me. Yes, she must know a lot." - -His remarks were lost upon Mr. Airey, for he had politely hurried to -Miss Innisfail and was asking her if he could be of any assistance to -her. But when Miss Innisfail replied that she was merely waiting for -Brian, the boatman, who should have returned long ago from the other -side of the lough, Mr. Airey did not return to Lord Fotheringay. - -He had had enough of Lord Fotheringay for one afternoon, and he hoped -that Lord Fotheringay would understand so much. He had long ago ceased -to be amusing. As an addition to the house-party at the Castle he was -unprofitable. He knew that Lady Innisfail was of this opinion, and he -was well aware also that Lady Innisfail had not given him more than a -general and very vague invitation to the Castle. He had simply come to -the Castle in order to avoid the possibly disagreeable consequences of -buying some thousands of pounds' worth of diamonds--perhaps it would be -more correct to say, diamonds costing some thousands of pounds, leaving -worth out of the question--for a woman with a husband. - -Airey knew that the philosophy of Lord Fotheringay was the philosophy of -the maker of omelettes. No one has yet solved the problem of how to make -omelettes without breaking eggs. Lord Fotheringay had broken a good many -eggs in his day, and occasionally the result was that his share of the -transaction was not the omelette but the broken shells. Occasionally, -too, Edmund Airey was well aware, Lord Fotheringay had suffered more -inconvenience than was involved in the mere fact of his being deprived -of the comestible. His latest adventure. Airey thought, might be -included among such experiences. He had fled to the brink of the ocean -in order to avoid the vengeance of the Husband. "Here the pursuer can -pursue no more," was the line that was in Edmund Airey's mind as he -listened to the fragmentary account of the latest _contretemps_ of the -rheumatic butterfly. - -Yes, he had had quite enough of Lord Fotheringay's company. The -announcement of his intention to marry Miss Avon had not made him more -interesting in the eyes of Edmund Airey, though it might have done so -in other people's eyes--for a man who makes himself supremely ridiculous -makes himself supremely interesting as well, in certain circles. - -The announcement made by Lord Fotheringay had caused him to seem -ridiculous, though of course Edmund had made no sign to this effect: -had he made any sign he would not have heard the particulars of Lord -Fotheringay's latest fiasco, and he was desirous of learning those -particulars. Having become acquainted with them, however, he found that -he had had quite enough of his company. - -But in the course of the afternoon Mr. Airey perceived that, though -in his eyes there was something ridiculous in the notion of Lord -Fotheringay's expression of a determination to marry Beatrice Avon, the -idea might not seem quite so ridiculous to other people--Miss Avon's -father, for instance. - -In another moment he had come to the conclusion that the idea might not -seem altogether absurd to Miss Avon herself. - -Young women of twenty--even when they have been endowed by heaven with -lustrous eyes (assuming that the lustre of a young woman's eyes is -a gift from heaven, and not acquired to work the purposes of a very -different power)--have been known to entertain without repugnance -the idea of marrying impecunious peers of fifty-seven; and upon this -circumstance Edmund pondered. - -Standing on the brink of a cliff at the base of which the great rollers -were crouching like huge white-maned lions, Mr. Airey reflected as he -had never previously done, upon the debased condition of modern society, -in which such incidents are of constant occurrence. But, however -deplorable such incidents are, he knew perfectly well that there never -had existed a society in the world where they had not been quite as -frequent as they are in modern society in England. - -Yes, it was quite as likely as not that Lord Fotheringay would be able -to carry out the intention which he had announced to his confidant of -the moment. - -But when Mr. Airey thought of the lustrous eyes of Beatrice Avon, -recalling the next moment the rheumatic movements of Lord Fotheringay -and the falling of the scrap of caked powder from his forehead, he felt -quixotic enough to be equal to the attempt to prevent the realization of -Lord Fotheringay's intention. - -It was then that the thought occurred to him--Why should not Harold, who -was clearly ready to fall in love with the liquid eyes of Beatrice Avon, -ask her to marry him instead of his father? - -The result of his consideration of this question was to convince -him that such an occurrence as it suggested should be averted at all -hazards. - -Only the worst enemy that Harold Wynne could have--the worst enemy that -the girl could have--would like to see them married. - -It would be different if the hot-blooded Italian husband were to pursue -the enemy of his household to the brink of the Atlantic cliffs and then -push him over the cliffs into the depths of the Atlantic Ocean. But the -hot-blooded Italian was not yet in sight, and Edmund knew very well that -so long as Lord Fotheringay lived, Harold was dependent on him for his -daily bread. - -If Harold were to marry Miss Avon, it would lie in his father's power -to make him a pauper, or, worse, the professional director with the -honorary prefix of "Honourable" to his name, dear to the company -promoter. - -On the death of Lord Fotheringay Harold would inherit whatever property -still remained out of the hands of the mortgagees; but Edmund was well -aware of the longevity of that species of butterfly which is susceptible -of rheumatic attacks; so that for, perhaps, fifteen years Harold might -remain dependent upon the good-will of his father for his daily bread. - -It thus appeared to Mr. Airey that the problem of how to frustrate the -intentions of Lord Fotheringay, was not an easy one to solve. - -He knew the world too well to entertain for a moment the possibility of -defeating Lord Fotheringay's avowed purpose by informing either the girl -or her father of the evil reputation of Lord Fotheringay. The evil deeds -of a duke have occasionally permitted his wife to obtain a divorce; but -they have never prevented him from obtaining another wife. - -All this Mr. Edmund Airey knew, having lived in the world and observed -the ways of its inhabitants for several years. - - -END OF VOLUME I. - - - - - -A GRAY EYE OR SO - -By Frank Frankfort Moore - -In Three Volumes--Volume II - -Sixth Edition - -London, Hutchinson & Co., 34 Paternoster Row - -1893 - - - - -A GRAY EYE OR SO. - - - - -CHAPTER XX.--ON AN OAK SETTEE. - -HE was still pondering over the many aspects of the question which, to -his mind, needed solution, when he returned to the Castle, to find Lord -Fotheringay in a chair by the side of a gaunt old man who, at one -period of his life, had probably been tall, but who was now stooped in -a remarkable way. The stranger seemed very old, so that beside him -Lord Fotheringay looked comparatively youthful. Of this fact no one was -better aware than Lord Fotheringay. - -Edmund Airey had seen portraits of the new guest, and did not require to -be told that he was Julius Anthony Avon, the historian of certain periods. - -The first thought that occurred to him when he saw the two men side by -side, was that Lord Fotheringay would not appear ridiculous merely as -the son-in-law of Mr. Avon. To the casual observer at any rate he might -have posed as the son of Mr. Avon. - -He himself seemed to be under the impression that he might pass as -Mr. Avon's grandson, for he was extremely sportive in his presence, -attitudinizing on his settee in a way that Edmund knew must have been -agonizing to his rheumatic joints. Edmund smiled. He felt that he was -watching the beginning of a comedy. - -He learned that Mr. Avon had yielded to the persuasion of Lady Innisfail -and had consented to join his daughter at the Castle for a few days. -He was not fond of going into society; but it so happened that Castle -Innisfail had been the centre of an Irish conspiracy at the early -part of the century, and this fact made the acceptance by him of Lady -Innisfail's invitation a matter of business. - -Hearing the nature of the work at which he was engaged, Lord Fotheringay -had lost no time in expounding to him, in that airy style which he -had at his command, the various mistakes that had been made by several -generations of statesmen in dealing with the Irish question. The -fundamental error which they had all committed was taking the Irish and -their rebellions and conspiracies too seriously. - -This theory he expounded to the man who was writing a biographical -dictionary of Irish informers, and was about to publish his seventh -volume, concluding the letter B. - -Mr. Avon listened, gaunt and grim, while Lord Fotheringay gracefully -waved away statesman after statesman who had failed signally, by reason -of taking Ireland and the Irish seriously. - -There was something grim also in Edmund Airey's smile as he glanced at -this beginning of the comedy. - -That night Miss Stafford added originality to the ordinary terrors of -her recital. She explained that hitherto she had merely interpreted -the verses of others: now, however, she would draw upon her store of -original poems. - -Of course, Edmund Airey was outside the drawingroom while this was going -on. So were many of his fellow-guests, including Helen Craven. Edmund -found her beside him in a secluded part of the hall. He was rather -startled by her sudden appearance. He forgot to greet her with one of -the clever things that he reserved for her and other appreciative young -women--for he still found a few, as any man with a large income may, if -he only keeps his eyes open. "What a fool you must think me," were the -words with which Miss Craven greeted him, so soon as he became aware of -her presence. - -Strange to say, he had a definite idea that she had said something -clever--at any rate something that impressed him more strongly than ever -with the idea that she was a clever girl. - -And yet she had assumed that he must think her a fool. - -"A fool?" said he, "To think you so would be to write myself down one, -Miss Craven." - -"Mr Airey," said she, "I am a woman. Long ago I was a girl. You will -thus believe me when I tell you that I never was frank in all my life. I -want to begin now." - -"Ah, now I know the drift of your remark," said he. "A fool. Yes, you -made a good beginning: but supposing that I were to be frank, where -would you be then?" - -"I want you to begin also, Mr Airey," said she. - -"To begin? Oh, I made my start years ago--when I entered Parliament," -said he. "I was perfectly frank with the Opposition when I pointed out -their mistakes. I have never yet been frank with a friend, however. That -is why I still have a few left." - -"You must be frank with me now; if you won't it doesn't matter: I'll be -so to you. I admit that I behaved like an idiot; but you were -responsible for it--yes, largely." - -"That is a capital beginning. Now tell me what you have done or left -undone--above all, tell me where my responsibility comes in." - -"You like Harold Wynne?" - -"You suggest that a mere liking involves a certain responsibility?" - -"I love him." - -"Great heavens!" - -"Why should you be startled at the confession when you have been aware -of the fact for some time?" - -"I never met a frank woman before. It is very terrible. Perhaps I shall -get used to it." - -"Why will you not drop that tone?" she said, almost piteously. "Cannot -you see how serious the thing is to me?" - -"It is quite as serious to me," he replied. "Men have confided in -me--mostly fools--a woman never. Pray do not continue in that strain." - -"Then find words for me--be frank." - -"I will. You mean to say, Miss Craven, that I think you a fool because, -acting on the hint which I somewhat vaguely, but really in good faith, -dropped, you tried to impersonate the figure of the legend at that -ridiculous cave. Is not that what you would say if you had the courage -to be thoroughly frank?" - -"Thank you," said she, in a still weaker voice. "It is not so easy being -frank all in a moment." - -"No, not if one has accustomed oneself to--let us say good manners," he -added. - -"When I started for the boats after you had all left for that nonsense -at the village, I felt certain that you were my friend as well as Harold -Wynne's, and that you had good reason for believing that he would be -about the cave shortly after our hour of dining. I'm not very romantic." - -"Pardon me," said he. "You are not quite frank. If you were you would -say that, while secretly romantic, you follow the example of most young -women nowadays in ridiculing romance." - -"Quite right," she said. "I admitted just now that I found it difficult -to be frank all in a moment. Anyhow I believed that if I were to play -the part of the Wraith of the Cave within sight of Harold Wynne, he -might--oh, how could I have been such a fool? But you--you, I say, were -largely responsible for it, Mr. Airey." She was now speaking not merely -reproachfully but fiercely. "Why should you drop those hints--they -were much more than hints--about his being so deeply impressed with the -romance--about his having gone to the cave on the previous evening, if -you did not mean me to act upon them?" - -"I did mean you to act upon them," said he. "I meant that you and -he should come together last night, and I know that if you had come -together, he would have asked you to marry him. I meant all that, -because I like him and I like you too--yes, in spite of your frankness." - -"Thank you," said she, giving him her hand. "You forgive me for being -angry just now?" - -"The woman who is angry with a man without cause pays him the greatest -compliment in her power," he remarked. "Fate was against us." - -"You think that she is so very--very pretty?" said Miss Craven. - -"She?--fate?--I'll tell you what I think. I think that Harold Wynne has -met with the greatest misfortune of his life." - -"If you believe that, I know that I have met with the greatest of my -life." - -The corner of the hall was almost wholly in shadow. The settee upon -which Mr. Airey and Miss Craven were sitting, was cut off from the rest -of the place by the thigh hone of the great skeleton elk. Between the -ribs of the creature, however, some rays of light passed from one of -the lamps; and, as Mr. Airey looked sympathetically into the face of his -companion, he saw the gleam of a tear upon her cheek. - -He was deeply impressed--so deeply that some moments had passed before -he found himself wondering what she would say next. For a moment he -forgot to be on his guard, though if anyone had described the details -of a similar scene to him, he would probably have smiled while remarking -that when the lamplight gleams upon a tear upon the cheek of a young -woman of large experience, is just when a man needs most to be on his -guard, He felt in another moment, however, that something was coming. - -He waited for it in silence. - -It seemed to him in that pause that he was seated by the side of someone -whom he had never met before. The girl who was beside him seemed to -have nothing in common with Helen Craven. So greatly does a young woman -change when she becomes frank. - -This is why so many husbands declare--when they are also frank--that -the young women whom they marry are in every respect different from the -young women who promise to be their wives. - -"What is going to happen?" Helen asked him in a steady voice. - -"God knows," said he. - -"I saw them together just after they left you this morning," said she. -"I was at one of the windows of the Castle, they were far along the -terrace; but I'm sure that he said something to her about her eyes." - -"I should not be surprised if he did," said Edmund. "Her eyes invite -comment." - -"I believe that in spite of her eyes she is much the same as any other -girl." - -"Is that to the point?" he asked. He was a trifle disappointed in her -last sentence. It seemed to show him that, whatever Beatrice might be, -Helen was much the same as other girls. - -"It is very much to the point," said she. "If she is like other girls -she will hesitate before marrying a penniless man." - -"I agree with you," said he. "But if she is like other girls she will -not hesitate to love a penniless man." - -"Possibly--if, like me, she can afford to do so. But I happen to know -that she cannot afford it. This brings me up to what has been on my mind -all day. You are, I know, my friend; you are Harold Wynne's also. Now, -if you want to enable him to gratify his reasonable ambition--if you -want to make him happy--to make me happy--you will prevent him from ever -asking Beatrice Avon to marry him." - -"And I am prepared to do so much for him--for you--for her. But how can -I do it?" - -"You can take her away from him. You know how such things are done. You -know that if a distinguished man such as you are, with a large income -such as you possess, gives a girl to understand that he is, let us say, -greatly interested in her, she will soon cease to be interested in any -undistinguished and penniless son of a reprobate peer who may be before -her eyes." - -"I have seen such a social phenomenon," said he. "Does your proposition -suggest that I should marry the young woman with 'a gray eye or so'?" - -"You may marry her if you please--that's entirely a matter for yourself. -I don't see any need for you to go that length. Have I not kept my -promise to be frank?" - -"You have," said he. - -She had risen from the settee. She laid her hand on one of his that -rested on a projection of the old oak carving, and in another instant -she was laughing in front of Norah Innisfail, who was rendered even more -proper than usual through having become acquainted with Miss Stafford's -notions of originality in verse-making. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI.--ON THE ELEMENTS OF PARTY POLITICS. - - -MR. AIREY was actually startled by the suggestion which Miss Craven -had made with, on the whole, considerable tact as well as inconceivable -frankness. - -He had been considering all the afternoon the possibility of carrying -out the idea which it seemed Helen Craven had on her mind as well; but -it had never occurred to him that his purpose might be achieved through -the means suggested by the young woman who had just gone from his side. - -His first impression was that the proposal made to him was the cruellest -that had ever come from one girl in respect of another girl. He had -never previously had an idea that a girl could be so heartless as to -make such a suggestion as that which had come from Helen Craven; but in -the course of a short space of time, he found it expedient to revise his -first judgment on this matter. Helen Craven meant to marry Harold--so -much could scarcely be doubted--and her marrying him would be the best -thing that could happen to him. She was anxious to prevent his marrying -Miss Avon; and surely this was a laudable aim, considering that marrying -Miss Avon would be the worst thing that could happen to him--and to Miss -Avon as well. - -It might possibly be regarded as cruel by some third censors for Miss -Craven to suggest that he, Edmund, after leading the other girl to -believe that he was desirous of marrying her--or at least to believe -that she might have a chance of marrying him--might stop short. To be -sure, Miss Craven had not, with all her frankness, said that her idea -was that he should refrain from asking the other girl to marry him, but -only that the question was one that concerned himself alone. - -He thought over this point for some time, and the conclusion he came -to was that, after all, whether or not the cynical indifference of the -suggestion amounted to absolute cruelty, the question concerned himself -alone. Even if he were not to ask her to marry him after leading her to -suppose that he intended doing so, he would at any rate have prevented -her from the misery of marrying Harold; and that was something for which -she might be thankful to him. He would also have saved her from the -degradation of receiving a proposal of marriage from Lord Fotheringay; -and that was also something for which she might be thankful to him. - -Being a strictly party politician, he regarded expediency as the -greatest of all considerations. He was not devoid of certain scruples -now and again; but he was capable of weighing the probable advantages of -yielding to these scruples against the certain advantages of--well, of -throwing them to the winds. - -For some minutes after Helen Craven had left him he subjected his -scruples to the balancing process, and the result was that he found they -were as nothing compared with the expediency of proceeding as Helen had -told him that it was advisable for him to proceed. - -He made up his mind that he would save the girl--that was how he put it -to himself--and he would take extremely good care that he saved himself -as well. Marriage would not suit him. Of this he was certain. People -around him were beginning to be certain of it also. The mothers -in Philistia had practically come to regard him as a _quantité -négligeable_. The young women did not trouble themselves about him, -after a while. It would not suit him to marry a young woman with -lustrous eyes, he said to himself as he left his settee; but it would -suit him to defeat the machinations of Lord Fotheringay, and to induce -his friend Harold Wynne to pursue a sensible course. - -He found himself by the side of Beatrice Avon before five minutes had -passed, and he kept her thoroughly amused for close upon an hour--he -kept her altogether to himself also, though many chances of leaving his -side were afforded the girl by considerate youths, and by one smiling -person who had passed the first bloom of youth and had reached that -which is applied by the cautious hare's foot in the hand of a valet. - -Before the hour of brandy-and-sodas and resplendent smoking-jackets had -come, the fact of his having kept Beatrice Avon so long entertained had -attracted some attention. - -It had attracted the attention of Miss Craven, who commented upon it -with a confidential smile at Harold. It attracted the attention of -Harold's father, who commented upon it with a leer and a sneer. It -attracted the attention of Lady Innisfail, who commented upon it with a -smile that caused the dainty dimple in her chin to assume the shape of -the dot in a well-made note of interrogation. - -It also attracted the attention of quite a number of other persons, but -they reserved their comments, which was a wise thing for them to do. - -As she said good-night to him, she seemed, Edmund Airey thought, to be -a trifle fascinated as well as fascinating. He felt that he had had a -delightful hour--it was far more delightful than the half hour which he -had passed on the settee at the rear of the skeleton elk. - -His feeling in this matter simply meant that it was far more agreeable -to him to see a young woman admiring his cleverness than it was to -admire the cleverness of another young woman. - -He enjoyed his smoke by the side of the judge; for when a man is -absorbed in the thoughts of his own cleverness he can still get a -considerable amount of passive enjoyment out of the story of How the -Odds fell from Thirteen to Five to Six to Four against Porcupine for -some prehistoric Grand National. - -Harold Wynne now and again glanced across the hall at the man who -professed to be his best friend. He could perceive without much trouble -that Edmund Airey was particularly well pleased with himself. - -This meant, he thought, that Edmund had been particularly well pleased -with Beatrice Avon. - -Lord Fotheringay was too deeply absorbed in giving point to a story, -founded upon personal experience, which he was telling to his host, -to give a moment's attention to Edmund Airey, or to make an attempt to -interpret his aspect. - -It was only when his valet was putting him carefully to bed--he required -very careful handling--that he recollected the effective way in which -Airey had snubbed him, when he had made an honest attempt to reach Miss -Avon conversationally. - -He now found time to wonder what Airey meant by preventing the girl from -being entertained--Lord Fotheringay assumed, as a matter of course, -that the girl had not been entertained--all the evening. He had no head, -however, for considering such a question in all its aspects. He only -resolved that in future he would take precious good care that when there -was any snubbing in the air, he would be the dispenser of it, not the -recipient. - -Lord Fotheringay was not a man of genius, but upon occasions he could -be quite as disagreeable as if he were. He had studied the art of -administering snubs, and though he had never quite succeeded in snubbing -a member of Parliament of the same standing as Mr. Airey, yet he felt -quite equal to the duty, should he find it necessary to make an effort -in this direction. - -He was sleeping the sleep of the reprobate, long before his son had -succeeded in sleeping the sleep of the virtuous. Harold had more to -think about, as well as more capacity of thinking, than his father. He -was puzzled at the attitude of his friend and counsellor, Edmund Airey. -What on earth could he have meant by appropriating Beatrice Avon, Harold -wondered. He assumed that Airey had some object in doing what he had -done. He knew that his friend was not the man to do anything without -having an object in view. Previously he had been discreet to an -extraordinary degree in his attitude toward women. He had never even -made love to those matrons to whom it is discreet to make love. If he -had ever done so Harold knew that he would have heard of it; for there -is no fascination in making love to other men's wives, unless it is well -known in the world that you are doing so. The school-boy does not -smoke his cigarette in private. The fascination of the sin lies in his -committing it so that it gets talked about. - -Yes, Airey had ever been discreet, Harold knew, and he quite failed to -account for his lapse--assuming that it was indiscreet to appropriate -Beatrice Avon for an hour, and to keep her amused all that time. - -Harold himself had his own ideas of what was discreet in regard to young -women, and he had acted up to them. He did not consider that, so far as -the majority of young women were concerned, he should be accredited with -much self-sacrifice for his discretion. - -Had a great temperance movement been set on foot in Italy in the days -of Cæsar Borgia, the total abstainers would not have earned commendation -for their self-sacrifice. Harold Wynne had been discreet in regard to -most women simply because he was afraid of them. He was afraid that he -might some day be led to ask one of them to marry him--one of them whom -he would regard as worse than a Borgia poison ever after. - -The caution that he had displayed in respect of Helen Craven showed how -discreet he had accustomed himself to be. - -He reflected, however, that in respect of Beatrice Avon he had thrown -discretion to the winds From the moment that he had drawn her hands to -his by the fishing line, he had given himself up to her. He had been -without the power to resist. - -Might it not, then, be the same with Edmund Airey? Might not Edmund, who -had invariably been so guarded as to be wholly free from reproach so -far as women were concerned, have found it impossible to maintain that -attitude in the presence of Beatrice? - -And if this was so, what would be the result? - -This was the thought which kept Harold Wynne awake and uncomfortable for -several hours during that night. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII.--ON THE WISDOM OP THE MATRONS. - -LADY INNISFAIL made a confession to one of her guests--a certain Mrs. -Burgoyne--who was always delighted to play the _rôle_ of receiver of -confessions. The date at which Lady Innisfail's confession was made was -three days after the arrival of Beatrice Avon at the Castle, and its -subject was her own over-eagerness to secure a strange face for the -entertainment of her guests. - -"I thought that the romantic charm which would attach to that girl, who -seemed to float up to us out of the mist--leaving her wonderful eyes out -of the question altogether--would interest all my guests," said she. - -"And so it did, if I may speak for the guests," said Mrs. Burgoyne. -"Yes, we were all delighted for nearly an entire day." - -"I am glad that my aims were not wholly frustrated," said Lady -Innisfail. "But you see the condition we are all in at present." - -"I cannot deny it," replied Mrs. Burgoyne, with a sigh. "My dear, a new -face is almost as fascinating as a new religion." - -"More so to some people--generally men," said Lady Innisfail. "But who -could have imagined that a young thing like that--she has never been -presented, she tells me--should turn us all topsy turvy?" - -"She has a good deal in her favour," remarked Mrs. Burgoyne. "She is -fresh, her face is strange, she neither plays, sings, nor recites, and -she is a marvellously patient listener." - -"That last comes through being the daughter of a literary man," said -Lady Innisfail. "The wives and daughters of poets and historians and -the like are compelled to be patient listeners. They are allowed to do -nothing else." - -"I dare say. Anyhow that girl has made the most of her time since she -came among us." - -"She has. The worst of it is that no one could call her a flirt." - -"I suppose not. But what do you call a girl who is attractive to all -men, and who makes all the men grumpy, except the one she is talking -to?" - -"I call her a--a clever girl," replied Lady Innisfail. "Don't we all aim -at that sort of thing?" - -"Perhaps we did--once," said Mrs. Burgoyne, who was a year or two -younger than her hostess. "I should hope that our aims are different -now. We are too old, are we not?--you and I--for any man to insult us by -making love to us." - -"A woman is never too old to be insulted, thank God," said Lady -Innisfail; and Mrs. Burgoyne's laugh was not the laugh of a matron who -is shocked. - -"All the same," added Lady Innisfail, "our pleasant party threatens to -become a fiasco, simply because I was over-anxious to annex a new face. -I had set my heart upon bringing Harold Wynne and Helen Craven together; -but now they have become hopelessly good friends." - -"She is very kind to him." - -"Yes, that's the worst of it; she is kind and he is indifferent--he -treats her as if she were his favourite sister." - -"Are matters so bad as that?" - -"Quite. But when the other girl is listening to what another man is -saying to her, Harold Wynne's face is a study. He is as clearly in -love with the other girl as anything can be. That, old reprobate--his -father--has his aims too--horrid old creature! Mr. Durdan has ceased to -study the Irish question with a deep-sea cast of hooks in his hand: -he spends some hours every morning devising plans for spending as many -minutes by the side of Beatrice. I do believe that my dear husband would -have fallen a victim too, if I did not keep dinning into his ears that -Beatrice is the loveliest creature of our acquaintance. I lured him on -to deny it, and now we quarrel about it every night." - -"I believe Lord Innisfail rather dislikes her," said Mrs. Burgoyne. - -"I'm convinced of it," said Lady Innisfail. "But what annoys me most is -the attitude of Mr. Airey. He professed to be Harold's friend as well as -Helen's, and yet he insists on being so much with Beatrice that Harold -will certainly be led on to the love-making point--" - -"If he has not passed it already," suggested Mrs. Burgoyne. - -"If he has not passed it already; for I need scarcely tell you, my dear -Phil, that a man does not make love to a girl for herself alone, but -simply because other men make love to her." - -"Of course." - -"So that it is only natural that Harold should want to make love to -Beatrice when he is led to believe that Edmund Airey wants to marry -her." - -"The young fool! Why could he not restrain his desire until Mr. Airey -has married her? But do you really think that Mr. Airey does want to -marry her?" - -"I believe that Harold Wynne believes so--that is enough for the -present. Oh, no. You'll not find me quite so anxious to annex a strange -face another time." - -From the report of this confidential duologue it may possibly be -perceived, first, that Lady Innisfail was a much better judge of the -motives and impulses of men than Miss Craven was; and, secondly, that -the presence of Beatrice at the Castle had produced a marked impression -upon the company beneath its roof. - -It was on the evening of the day after the confidential duologue just -reported that there was an entertainment in the hall of the Castle. -It took the form of _tableaux_ arranged after well-known pictures, and -there was certainly no lack of actors and actresses for the figures. - -Mary Queen of Scots was, of course, led to execution, and Marie -Antoinette, equally as a matter of course, appeared in her prison. Then -Miss Stafford did her best to realize the rapt young woman in Mr. Sant's -"The Soul's Awaking"--Miss Stafford was very wide awake indeed, some -scoffer suggested; and Miss Innisfail looked extremely pretty--a -hostess's daughter invariably looks pretty--as "The Peacemaker" in Mr. -Marcus Stone's picture. - -Beatrice Avon took no part in the _tableaux_--the other girls had not -absolutely insisted on her appearing beside them on the stage that had -been fitted up; they had an+ informal council together, Miss Craven -being stage-manager, and they had come to the conclusion that they could -get along very nicely without her assistance. - -Some of them said that Beatrice preferred flirting with the men. However -this may have been, the fact remained that Harold, when he had washed -the paint off his face--he had been the ill-tempered lover, Miss Craven -being the young woman with whom he was supposed to have quarrelled, -requiring the interposition of a sweet Peacemaker in the person of Miss -Innisfail--went round by a corridor to the back of the hall, and stood -for a few minutes behind a 'portiere that took the place of a door at -one of the entrances. The hall was, of course, dimly lighted to make -the contrast with the stage the greater, so that he could not see the -features of the man who was sitting on the chair at the end of the row -nearest the _portiere_; but the applause that greeted a reproduction of -the picture of a monk shaving himself, having previously used no other -soap than was supplied by a particular maker, had scarcely died away -before Harold heard the voice of Edmund Airey say, in a low and earnest -tone, to someone who was seated beside him, "I do hope that before you -go away, you will let me know where you will next pitch your tent. I -don't want to lose sight of you." - -"If you wish I shall let you know when I learn it from my father," was -the reply that Harold heard, clearly spoken in the voice of Beatrice -Avon. - -Harold went back into the billowy folds of the tapestry curtain, and -then into the corridor. The words that he had overheard had startled -him. Not merely were the words spoken by Edmund Airey the same as he -himself had employed a few days before to Beatrice, but her reply was -practically the same as the reply which she had made to him. - -When the last of the figurantes had disappeared from the stage, and when -the buzz of congratulations was sounding through the hall, now fully -lighted, Harold was nowhere to be seen. - -Only a few of the most earnest of the smokers were still in the hall -when, long past midnight, he appeared at the door leading to the outer -hall or porch. His shoes were muddy and his shirt front was pulpy, for -the night was a wet one. - -He explained to his astonished friends that it was invariably the case -that putting paint and other auxiliaries to "making up" on his face, -brought on a headache, which he had learned by experience could only be -banished by a long walk in the open air. - -Well, he had just had such a walk. - -He did not expect that his explanation would carry any weight with it; -and the way he was looked at by his friends made him aware of the fact -that, in giving them credit for more sense than to believe him, he was -doing them no more than the merest justice. - -No one who was present on his return placed the smallest amount -of credence in his story. What many of them did believe was of no -consequence. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII.--ON THE ATLANTIC. - -THE boats were scattered like milestones--as was stated by -Brian--through the sinuous length of Lough Suangorm. The cutter yacht -_Acushla_ was leading the fleet out to the Atlantic, with two reefs in -her mainsail, and although she towed a large punt, and was by no means -a fast boat, she had no difficulty in maintaining her place, the fact -being that the half-dozen boats that lumbered after her were mainly -fishing craft hailing from the village of Cairndhu, and, as all the -world knows, these are not built for speed but endurance. They are -half-decked and each carries a lug sail. One of the legends of the coast -is that when a lug sail is new its colour is brown, and as a new sail is -never seen at Cairndhu there are no means of finding out if the story -is true or false. The sails, as they exist, are kaleidoscopic in their -patchwork. It is understood that anything will serve as a patch for a -lug sail. Sometimes the centre-piece of an old coat has been used for -this purpose; but if so, it is only fair to state that it is on record -that the centre-piece of an old sail has been shaped into a jacket for -the ordinary wearing of a lad. - -The lug sail may yet find its way into a drawing room in Belgravia -and repose side by side with the workhouse sheeting which occupies an -honoured place in that apartment. - -On through the even waves that roll from between the headlands at the -entrance, to the little strand of pebbles at the end of the lough, the -boats lumbered. The sea and sky were equally gray, but now and again a -sudden gleam of sunshine would come from some unsuspected rift in the -motionless clouds, and fly along the crests of the waves, revealing a -green transparency for an instant, and then, flashing upon the sails, -make apparent every patch in their expanse, just as a flash of lightning -on a dark night reveals for a second every feature of a broad landscape. - -As the first vessel of the little fleet, pursuing an almost direct -course in spite of the curving of the shores of the Irish fjord, -approached one coast and then the other, the great rocks that appeared -snow-white, with only a dab of black here and there, became suddenly -all dark, and the air was filled with what seemed like snow flakes. The -cries of the innumerable sea birds, that whirled about the disturbing -boat before they settled and the rocks became gradually white once more, -had a remarkable effect when heard against that monotonous background, -so to speak, of rolling waves. - -The narrow lough was a gigantic organ pipe through which the mighty bass -of the Atlantic roared everlastingly. - -But when the headlands at the entrance were reached, the company who -sat on the weather side of the cutter _Acushla_ became aware of a -commingling of sounds. The organ voice of the lough only filled up the -intervals between the tremendous roar of the lion-throated waves that -sprang with an appalling force half way up the black faces of the sheer -cliffs, and broke in mid-air. All day long and all night long those -inexhaustible billows come rushing upon that coast; and watching them -and listening to them one feels how mean are contemporary politics as -well as other things. - -"That's the Irish question," remarked Lord Innisfail, who was steering -his own cutter. - -He nodded in the direction of the waves that were clambering up the -headlands. What he meant exactly he might have had difficulty in -explaining. - -"Very true, very true," said Mr. Durdan, sagaciously, hoping to provoke -Mr. Airey to reply, and thinking it likely that he would learn from Mr. -Airey's reply what was Lord Innisfail's meaning. - -But Mr. Airey, who had long ago become acquainted with Mr. Durdan's -political methods, did not feel it incumbent on him to make the attempt -to grapple with the question--if it was a question--suggested by Lord -Innisfail. - -The metaphor of a host should not, he knew, be considered too curiously. -Like the wit of a police-court magistrate, it should be accepted with -effusion. - -"Stand by that foresheet," said Lord Innisfail to one of the yacht's -hands. "We'll heave to until the other craft come up." - -In a few moments the cutter had all way off her, and was simply tumbling -about among the waves in a way that made some of the ship's company hold -their breath and think longingly of pale brandy. - -The cruise of the _Acushla_ and the appearance of the fleet of boats -upon the lough were due to the untiring energy of Lady Innisfail and -to the fact that at last Brian, the boatman, had, by the help of Father -Conn, come to grasp something of the force of the phrase "local colour". - -Lady Innisfail was anxious that her guests should carry away certain -definite impressions of their sojourn at the Connaught castle beyond -those that may be acquired at any country-house, which everyone knows -may be comprised in a very few words. A big shoot, and an incipient -scandal usually constitute the record of a country-house entertainment. -Now, it was not that Lady Innisfail objected to a big shoot or an -incipient scandal--she admitted that both were excellent in their own -way--but she hoped to do a great deal better for her guests. She hoped -to impart to their visit some local colour. - -She had hung on to the wake and the eviction, as has already been told, -with pertinacity. The _fête_ which she believed was known to the Irish -peasantry as the Cruiskeen, had certainly some distinctive features; -though just as she fancied that the Banshee was within her grasp, it had -vanished into something substantial--this was the way she described -the scene on the cliffs. Although her guests said they were very well -satisfied with what they had seen and heard, adding that they had come -to the conclusion that if the Irish had only a touch of humour they -would be true to the pictures that had been drawn of them, still Lady -Innisfail was not satisfied. - -Of course if Mr. Airey were to ask Miss Avon to marry him, her -house-party would be talked about during the winter. But she knew that -it is the marriages which do not come off that are talked about most; -and, after all, there is no local colour in marrying or giving in -marriage, and she yearned for local colour. Brian, after a time, came -to understand something of her ladyship's yearnings. Like the priest and -the other inhabitants, he did not at first know what she wanted. - -It is difficult to impress upon Fuzzy-wuzzy that he would be regarded -as a person of distinction in the Strand and as an idol in Belgravia. -At his home in the Soudan he is a very commonplace sort of person. So -in the region of Lough Suangorm, but a casual interest attaches to the -caubeen, which in Piccadilly would be followed by admiring crowds, and -would possibly be dealt with in Evening Editions. - -But, as has just been said, Brian and his friends in due time came to -perceive the spectacular value to her ladyship's guests of the most -commonplace things of the country; and it was this fact that induced -Brian to tell three stories of a very high colour to Mr. Airey and Mr. -Wynne. - -It was also his appreciation of her ladyship's wants that caused him to -suggest to her the possibility of a seal-hunt constituting an element of -attraction--these were not the exact words employed by the boatman--to -some of her ladyship's guests. - -It is scarcely necessary to say that Lady Innisfail was delighted -with the suggestion. Some of her guests pretended that they also were -delighted with it, though all that the majority wanted was to be -let alone. Still, upon the afternoon appointed for the seal-hunt a -considerable number of the Castle party went aboard the yacht. Beatrice -was one of the few girls who were of the party. Helen would have dearly -liked to go also; she would certainly have gone if she had not upon -one--only one--previous occasion allowed herself to be persuaded to sail -out to the headlands. She was wise enough not to imperil her prospects -for the sake of being drenched with sea water. - -She wondered--she did not exactly hope it--if it was possible for -Beatrice Avon to become seasick. - -This was how upon that gray afternoon, the fleet of boats sailed out to -where the yacht was thumping about among the tremendous waves beyond the -headlands that guard the entrance to Lough Suangorm. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV.--ON THE CHANCE. - -WHEN the fishing boats came within half a cable's length of the cutter, -Lord Innisfail gave up the tiller to Brian, who was well qualified to be -the organizer of the expedition, having the reputation of being familiar -with the haunts and habits of the seals that may be found--by such as -know as much about them as Brian--among the great caves that pierce for -several miles the steep cliffs of the coast. - -The responsibility of steering a boat under the headlands, either North -or South, was not sought by Lord Innisfail. For perhaps three hundred -and fifty days in every year it would be impossible to approach the -cliffs in any craft; but as Brian took the tiller he gave a knowing -glance around the coast and assured his lordship that it was a jewel of -a day for a seal-hunt, and added that it was well that he had brought -only the largest of the fishing boats, for anything smaller would sink -with the weight of the catch of seals. - -He took in the slack of the main sheet and sent the cutter flying direct -to the Northern headland, the luggers following in her wake, though -scarcely preserving stations or distances with that rigorous naval -precision which occasionally sends an ironclad to the bottom. - -The man-of-war may run upon a reef, and the country may be called on -to pay half a million for the damage; but it can never be said that she -fails to maintain her station prescribed by the etiquette of the Royal -Navy in following the flagship, which shows that the British sailor, -wearing epaulettes, is as true as the steel that his ship is made of, -and a good deal truer than that of some of the guns which he is asked to -fire. - -In a short time the boats had cleared the headland, and it seemed to -some of the cutter's company as if they were given an opportunity of -looking along the whole west coast of Ireland in a moment. Northward -and southward, like a study in perspective, the lines of indented cliffs -stretched until they dwindled away into the gray sky. The foam line that -was curved as it curled around the enormous rocks close at hand, was -straightened out in the distance and never quite disappeared. - -"Talk of the Great Wall of China," said Lord Innisfail, pointing proudly -to the splendid chain of cliffs. "Talk of the Great Wall of China -indeed! What is it compared with that?" - -He spoke as proudly as if he owned everything within that line of -cliffs, though he thanked heaven every night that he only owned a few -thousand acres in Ireland. - -"What indeed--what indeed?" said Mr. Durdan. - -One of the men thought the moment opportune for airing a theory that -he had to the effect that the Great Wall of China was not built by the -Chinese to keep the surrounding nations out, but by the surrounding -nations to keep the Chinese in. - -It was a feasible theory, suggesting that the Chinese immigration -question existed among the Thibetans some thousands of years ago, to -quite as great an extent as it does in some other directions to-day. -But it requires to be a very strong theory to stand the strain of the -Atlantic waves and a practically unlimited view of the coast of Ireland. -So no discussion arose. - -Already upon some of the flat rocks at the entrance to the great caves -the black head of a seal might be seen. It did not remain long in -view, however. Brian had scarcely pointed it out with a whisper to such -persons as were near him, when it disappeared. - -"It's the wary boys they are, to be sure!" he remarked confidentially. - -His boldness in steering among the rocks made some persons more than -usually thoughtful. Fortunately the majority of those aboard the cutter -knew nothing of his display of skill. They remained quite unaware of the -jagged rocks that the boat just cleared; and when he brought the craft -to the lee of a cliff, which formed a natural breakwater and a harbour -of ripples, none of these people seemed surprised. - -Lord Innisfail and a few yachtsmen who knew something of sailing, drew -long breaths. They knew what they had escaped. - -One of the hands got into the punt and took a line to the cliff to moor -the yacht when the sails had been lowered, and by the time that -the mooring was effected, the other boats had come into the natural -harbour--it would have given protection--that is, natural protection, -to a couple of ironclads--no power can protect them from their own -commanders. - -"Now, my lard," said Brian, who seemed at last to realize his -responsibilities, "all we've got to do is to grab the craythurs; but -that same's a caution. We'll be at least an hour-and-a-half in the -caves, and as it will be cold work, and maybe wet work, maybe some of -their honours wouldn't mind standing by the cutter." - -The suggestion was heartily approved of by some of the yacht's company. -Lady Innisfail said she was perfectly satisfied with such local colour -as was available without leaving the yacht, and it was understood that -Miss Avon would remain by her side. Mr. Airey said he thought he could -face with cheerfulness a scheme of existence that did not include -sitting with varying degrees of uneasiness in a small boat while other -men speared an inoffensive seal. - -"Such explanations are not for the Atlantic Ocean," said Harold, -getting over the side of the yacht into the punt that Brian had hauled -close--Lord Innisfail was already in the bow. - -In a short time, by the skilful admiralship of Brian, the other boats, -which were brought up from the luggers, were manned, and their stations -were assigned to them, one being sent to explore a cave a short distance -off, while another was to remain at the entrance to pick up any seals -that might escape. The same plan was adopted in regard to the great -cave, the entrance to which was close to where the yacht was moored. -Brian arranged that his boat should enter the cave, while another, fully -manned, should stand by the rocks to capture the refugees. - -All the boats then started for their stations--all except the punt with -Brian at the yoke lines, Harold and Mr. Durdan in the stern sheets, one -of the hands at the paddles, and Lord Innisfail in the bows; for -when this craft was about to push off, Brian gave an exclamation of -discontent. - -"What's the matter now?" asked Lord Innisfail. - -"Plenty's the matter, my lard," said Brian. "The sorra a bit of luck -we'll have this day if we leave the ladies behind us." - -"Then we must put up with bad luck," said Lord Innisfail. "Go down on -your knees to her ladyship and ask her to come with us if you think that -will do any good." - -"Oh, her ladyship would come without prayers if she meant to," said -Brian. "But it's Miss Avon that's open to entreaty. For the love of -heaven and the encouragement of sport, step into the boat, Sheila, and -you'll have something to talk about for the rest of your life." - -Beatrice shook her head at the appeal, but that wouldn't do for Brian. -"Look, my lady, look at her eyes, aren't they just jumping out of her -head like young trout in a stream in May?" he cried to Lady Innisfail. -"Isn't she waiting for you to say the word to let her come, an' not a -word does any gentleman in the boat speak on her behalf." - -The gentlemen remained dumb, but Lady Innisfail declared that if Miss -Avon was not afraid of a wetting and cared to go in the boat, there was -no reason why she should not do so. - -In another moment Beatrice had stepped into the punt and it had pushed -off with a cheer from Brian. The men in the other boats, now in the -distance, hearing the cheer, but without knowing why it arose, sent back -an answer that aroused the thousand echoes of the cliffs and the ten -thousand sea birds that arose in a cloud from every crevice of the -rocks. Thus it was that the approach of the boat to the great cave did -not take place in silence. - -Harold had not uttered a word. He had not even looked at Edmund Airey's -face to see what expression it wore when Beatrice stepped into the boat. - -"Did you ever hear anything like Airey's roundabout phrase about a -scheme of existence?" said Mr. Durdan. - -"It is his way of putting a simple matter," said Harold. "You heard of -the man who, in order to soften down the fact that a girl had what are -colloquially known as beetle-crushers, wrote that her feet tended to -increase the mortality among coleoptera?" - -"I'm afraid that the days of the present government are numbered," said -Mr. Durdan, who seemed to think that the remark was in logical sequence -with Harold's story. - -Beatrice looked wonderingly at the speaker; it was some moments before -she found an echo in the expression on Harold's face to what she felt. - -The man who could think of such things as the breaking up of a -government, when floating in thirty fathoms of green sea, beneath the -shadow of such cliffs as the boat was approaching, was a mystery to -the girl, though she was the daughter of one of the nineteenth century -historians, to whom nothing is a mystery. - -The boat entered the great cave without a word being spoken by any one -aboard, and in a few minutes it was being poled along in semi-darkness. -The lapping of the swell from the entrance against the sides of the -cave sounded on through the distance of the interior, and from those -mysterious depths came strange sounds of splashing water, of dropping -stalactites, and now and again a mighty sob of waves choked within a -narrow vent. - -Silently the boat was forced onward, and soon all light from the -entrance was obscured. Through total darkness the little craft crept for -nearly half a mile. - -Suddenly a blaze of light shot up with startling effect in the bows of -the boat. It only came from a candle that Brian had lit: but its -gleam was reflected in millions of stalactites into what seemed an -interminable distance--millions of stalactites on the roof and the -walls, and millions of ripples beneath gave back the gleam, until the -boat appeared to be the centre of a vast illumination. - -The dark shadows of the men who were using the oars as poles, danced -about the brilliant roof and floor of the cave, adding to the fantastic -charm of the scene. - -"Now," said Brian, in a whisper, "these craythurs don't understand -anything that's said to them unless by a human being, so we'll need -to be silent enough. We'll be at the first ledge soon, and there maybe -you'll wait with the lady, Mr. Wynne--you're heavier than Mr. Durdan, -and every inch of water that the boat draws is worth thinking about. -I'll leave a candle with you, but not a word must you speak." - -"All right," said Harold. "You're the manager of the expedition; we must -obey you; but I don't exactly see where my share in the sport comes in." - -"I'd explain it all if I could trust myself to speak," said Brian. -"The craythurs has ears." The ledge referred to by him was reached in -silence. It was perhaps six inches above the water, and in an emergency -it might have afforded standing room for three persons. So much Harold -saw by the light of the candle that the boatman placed in a niche of -rock four feet above the water. - -At a sign from Brian, Harold got upon the ledge and helped Beatrice out -of the boat. - -The light of the candle that was in the bow of the boat gleamed upon the -figure of a man naked from the waist up, and wearing a hard round hat -with a candle fastened to the brim. - -Harold knew that this was the costume of the seal-hunter of the Western -caves, for he had had a talk with Brian on the subject, and had learned -that only by swimming with a lighted candle on his forehead for a -quarter of a mile, the hunter could reach the sealing ground at the -termination of the cave. - -Without a word being spoken, the boat went on, and its light soon -glimmered mysteriously in the distance. - -Harold and Beatrice stood side by side on the narrow ledge of rock and -watched the dwindling of the light. The candle that was on the niche of -rock almost beside them seemed dwindling also. It had become the merest -spark. Harold saw that Brian had inadvertently placed it so that the -dripping of the water from the roof sent flecks of damp upon the wick. - -He stretched out his hand to shift it to another place, but before -he could touch it, a large stalactite dropped upon it, and not only -extinguished it, but sent it into the water with a splash. - -The little cry that came from the girl as the blackness of darkness -closed upon them, sounded to his ears as a reproach. - -"I had not touched it," said he. "Something dropped from the roof upon -it. You don't mind the darkness?" - -"Oh, no--no," said she, doubtfully. "But we were commanded to be dumb." - -"That command was given on the assumption that the candle would continue -burning--now the conditions are changed," said he, with a sophistry that -would have done credit to a cabinet minister. - -"Oh," said she. - -There was a considerable pause before she asked him how long he thought -it would be before the boat would return. - -He declined to bind himself to any expression of opinion on the subject. - -Then there was another pause, filled up only by the splash of something -falling from the roof--by the wash of the water against the smooth rock. - -"I wonder how it has come about that I am given a chance of speaking to -you at last?" said he. - -"At last?" said she, repeating his words in the same tone of inquiry. - -"I say at last, because I have been waiting for such an opportunity for -some time, but it did not come. I don't suppose I was clever enough to -make my opportunity, but now it has come, thank God." - -Again there was silence. He seemed to think that he had said something -requiring a reply from her, but she did not speak. - -"I wonder if you would believe me when I say that I love you," he -remarked. - -"Yes," she replied, as naturally as though he had asked her what she -thought of the weather. "Yes, I think I would believe you. If you did -not love me--if I was not sure that you loved me, I should be the most -miserable girl in all the world." - -"Great God!" he cried. "You do not mean to say that you love me, -Beatrice?" - -"If you could only see my face now, you would know it," said she. "My -eyes would tell you all--no, not all--that is in my heart." - -He caught her hands, after first grasping a few handfuls of clammy rock, -for the hands of the truest lovers do not meet mechanically. - -"I see them," he whispered--"I see your eyes through the darkness. My -love, my love!" - -He did not kiss her. His soul revolted from the idea of the commonplace -kiss in the friendly secrecy of the darkness. - -There are opportunities and opportunities. He believed that if he had -kissed her then she would never have forgiven him, and he was right. -"What a fool I was!" he cried. "Two nights ago, when I overheard a man -tell you, as I had told you long ago--so long ago--more than a week -ago--that he did not want you to pass out of his sight--when I heard you -make the same promise to him as you had made to me, I felt as if there -was nothing left for me in the world. I went out into the darkness, and -as I stood at the place when I first saw you, I thought that I should be -doing well if I were to throw myself headlong down those rocks into the -sea that the rain was beating upon. Beatrice, God only knows if it would -be better or worse for you if I had thrown myself down--if I were to -leave you standing alone here now." - -"Do not say those words--they are like the words I asked you before -not to say. Even then your words meant everything to me. They mean -everything to me still." - -He gave a little laugh. Triumph rang through it. He did not seem to -think that his laughter might sound incongruous to her. - -"This is my hour," he said. "Whatever fate may have in store for me it -cannot make me unlive this hour. And to think that I had got no idea -that such an hour should ever come to me--that you should ever come to -me, my beloved! But you came to me. You came to me when I had tried to -bring myself to feel that there was something worth living for in the -world apart from love." - -"And now?" - -"And now--and now--now I know that there is nothing but love that is -worth living for. What is your thought, Beatrice--tell me all that is in -your heart?" - -"All--all?" She now gave the same little laugh that he had given. She -felt that her turn had come. - -She gave just the same laugh when his feeling of triumph had given -place to a very different feeling--when he had told her that he was a -pauper--that he had no position in the world--that he was dependent upon -his father for every penny that he had to spend, with the exception of -a few hundred pounds a year, which he inherited from his mother--that it -was an act of baseness on his part to tell her that he loved her. - -He had plenty of time for telling her all this, and for explaining his -position thoroughly, for nearly an hour had passed before a gleam of -light and a hail from the furthest recesses of the cave, made them aware -of the fact that other interests than theirs existed in the world. - -And yet when he had told her all that he had to tell to his -disadvantage, she gave that little laugh of triumph. He would have given -a good deal to be able to see the expression which he knew was in those -wonderful eyes of hers, as that laugh came from her. - -Not being able to do so, however, he could only crush her hands against -his lips and reply to the boat's hail. - -Brian, on hearing of the mishap to the candle, delivered a torrent of -execration against himself. It took Harold some minutes to bring -himself up to the point of Lord Innisfail's enthusiasm on the subject of -seal-fishing. Five excellent specimens were in the bottom of the boat, -and the men who had swum after them were there also. A strong odour of -whiskey was about them; and the general idea that prevailed was that -they would not suffer from a chill, though they had been in the water -for three quarters of an hour. - -As the other boats only succeeded in capturing three seals among them -all, Brian had statistics to bear out his contention that the presence -of Beatrice had brought luck to his boat. - -He pocketed two sovereigns which Harold handed him when the boats -returned to the mooring-place, and he was more profuse than ever in his -abuse of his own stupidity in placing the candle so as to be affected by -the damp from the roof. - -His eyes twinkled all the time in a way that made Harold's cheeks red. - -The judge found Miss Avon somewhat _distraite_ after dinner that -night. He became pensive in consequence. He wondered if she thought him -elderly. - -He did not mind in the least growing old, but the idea of being thought -elderly was abhorrent to him. - -The next day Beatrice and her father returned to their cottage at the -other side of the lough. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV.--ON THE SOCIAL VALUE OF THE REPROBATE. - - -SOMETHING remarkable had occurred. Lord Fotheringay had been for a -fortnight under one roof without disgracing himself. - -The charitable people said he was reforming. - -The others said he was aging rapidly. - -The fact remained the same, however: he had been a fortnight at the -Castle and he had not yet disgraced himself. - -Mrs. Burgoyne congratulated Lady Innisfail upon this remarkable -occurrence, and Lady Innisfail began to hope that it might get talked -about. If her autumn party at Castle Innisfail were to be talked about -in connection with the reform of Lord Fotheringay, much more interest -would be attached to the party and the Castle than would be the result -of the publication of the statistics of a gigantic shoot. Gigantic -shoots did undoubtedly take place on the Innisfail Irish property, but -they invariably took place before the arrival of Lord Innisfail and his -guests, and the statistics were, for obvious reasons, not published. -They only leaked out now and again. - -The most commonplace people might enjoy the reputation attaching to the -careful preservation and the indiscriminate slaughter of game; but Lady -Innisfail knew that the distinction accruing from a connection with -a social scandal of a really high order, or with a great social -reform--either as regards a hardened reprobate or an afternoon -toilet--was something much greater. - -Of course, she understood perfectly well that in England the Divorce -Court is the natural and legitimate medium for attaining distinction in -the form of a Special Edition and a pen and ink portrait; but she had -seen great things accomplished by the rumour of an unfair game of cards, -as well as by a very daring skirt dance. - -Next to a high-class scandal, the discovery of a new religion was -a means of reaching eminence, she knew. With the exact social value -attaching to the Reform of a Hardened Reprobate, she was as yet -unacquainted, the fact being that she had never had any experience of -such an incident--it was certainly very rare in the society in which she -moved, so that it is not surprising that she was not prepared to say at -a moment how much it would count in the estimation of the world. - -But if the Reform of a Reprobate--especially a reprobate with a -title--was so rare as to be uncatalogued, so to speak, surely it should -be of exceptional value as a social incident. Should it not partake of -the prestige which attaches to a rare occurrence? - -This was the way that Mrs. Burgoyne put the matter to her friend and -hostess, and her friend and hostess was clever enough to appreciate -the force of her phrases. She began to perceive that although Lord -Fotheringay had come to the Castle on the slenderest of invitations, -and simply because it suited his purpose--although she had been greatly -annoyed at his sudden appearance at the Castle, still good might come of -it. - -She did not venture to estimate from the standpoint of the moralist, the -advantages accruing to the Reformed Reprobate himself from the incident -of his reform, she merely looked at the matter from the standpoint of -the woman of society--which is something quite different--desirous of -attaining a certain social distinction. - -Thus it was that Lady Innisfail took to herself the credit of the -Reform of the Reprobate, and petted the reprobate accordingly, giving no -attention whatever to the affairs of his son. These affairs, interesting -though they had been to her some time before, now became insignificant -compared with the Great Reform. - -She even went the length of submitting to be confided in by Lord -Fotheringay; and she heard, with genuine interest, from his own lips -that he considered the world in general to be hollow. He had found it -so. He had sounded the depths of its hollowness. He had found that in -all grades of society there was much evil. The working classes--he -had studied the question of the working man not as a parliamentary -candidate, consequently honestly--drank too much beer. They sought -happiness through the agency of beer; but all the beer produced by -all the brewers in the House of Lords would not bring happiness to the -working classes. As for the higher grades of society--the people who -were guilty of partaking of unearned increment--well, they were wrong -too. He thought it unnecessary to give the particulars of the avenues -through which they sought happiness. But they were all wrong. The -domestic life--there, and there only, might one find the elements -of true happiness. He knew this because he had endeavoured to reach -happiness by every other avenue and had failed in his endeavours. He -now meant to supply his omission, and he regretted that it had never -occurred to him to do so before. Yes, some poet or other had written -something or other on the subject of the great charm of a life of -domesticity, and Lord Fotheringay assured Lady Innisfail in confidence -that that poet was right. - -Lady Innisfail sighed and said that the Home--the English Home--with its -simple pleasures and innocent mirth, was where the Heart--the English -Heart--was born. What happiness was within the reach of all if they -would only be content with the Home! Society might be all very well in -its way. There were duties to be discharged--every rank in life carried -its duties with it; but how sweet it was, after one had discharged one's -social obligations, to find a solace in the retirement of Home. - -Lord Fotheringay lifted up his hands and said "Ah--ah," in different -cadences. - -Lady Innisfail folded her hands and shook her head with some degree of -solemnity. She felt confident that if Lord Fotheringay was in earnest, -her autumn party would be talked about with an enthusiasm surpassing -that which would attach to the comments on any of the big shoots in -Scotland, or in Yorkshire, or in Wales. - -But when Lord Fotheringay had an opportunity of conversing alone with -Mr. Airey, he did not think it necessary to dwell upon the delights -which he had begun to perceive might be found in a life of pure -domesticity. He took the liberty of reminding Mr. Airey of the -conversation they had on the morning after Miss Avon's arrival at the -Castle. - -"Had we a conversation then, Lord Fotheringay?" said Mr. Airey, in a -tone that gave Lord Fotheringay to understand that if any contentious -point was about to be discussed, it would rest with him to prove -everything. - -"Yes, we had a conversation," said Lord Fotheringay. "I was foolish -enough to make a confidant of you." - -"If you did so, you certainly were foolish," said Edmund, quietly. - -"I have been keeping my eyes open and my ears open as well, during the -past ten days," said Lord Fotheringay, with a leer that was meant to be -significant. Edmund Airey, however, only took it to signify that Lord -Fotheringay could easily be put into a very bad temper. He said nothing, -but allowed Lord Fotheringay to continue. "Yes, let me tell you that -when I keep both eyes and ears open not much escapes me. I have seen and -heard a good deal. You are a clever sort of person, friend Airey; but -you don't know the world as I know it." - -"No, no--as you know it--ah, no," remarked Mr. Airey. - -Lord Fotheringay was a trifle put out by the irritating way in which the -words were spoken. Still, the pause he made was not of long duration. - -"You have your game to play, like other people, I suppose," he resumed, -after the little pause. - -"You are at liberty to suppose anything you please, my dear Lord -Fotheringay," said Mr. Airey, with a smile. - -"Come," said Lord Fotheringay, adopting quite another tone. "Come, -Airey, speaking as man to man, wasn't it a confoundedly shabby trick for -you to play upon me--getting me to tell you that I meant to marry that -young thing--to save her from unhappiness, Airey?" - -"Well?" said Airey. - -"Well?" said Lord Fotheringay. - -"You didn't complete your sentence. Was the shabby trick accepting your -confidence?" - -"The shabby trick was trying to win the affection of the young woman -after I had declared to you my intention." - -"That was the shabby trick, was it?" - -"I have no hesitation in saying that it was." - -"Very well. I hope that you have nothing more to confide in me beside -this--your confidences have so far been singularly uninteresting." - -Lord Fotheringay got really angry. - -"Let me tell you--" he began, but he was stopped by Airey. - -"No, I decline to let you tell me anything," said he. "You accused -me just now of being so foolish as to listen to your confidences. I, -perhaps, deserved the reproach. But I should be a fool if I were to give -you another chance of levelling the same accusation against me. You will -have to force your confidences on someone else in future, unless such as -concern your liver. You confided in me that your liver wasn't quite the -thing. How is it to-day?" - -"I understand your tactics," said Lord Fotheringay, with a snap. "And -I'll take good care to make others acquainted with them also," he added. -"Oh, no, Mr. Airey; I wasn't born yesterday." - -"To that fact every Peerage in the kingdom bears testimony," said Mr. -Airey. - -Lord Fotheringay had neglected his cigar. It had gone out. He now took -three or four violent puffs at it; he snapped it from between his teeth, -looked at the end, and then dropped it on the ground and stamped on it. - -"It was your own fault," said Airey. "Try one of mine, and don't bother -yourself with other matters." - -"I'll bother myself with what I please," said Lord Fotheringay with a -snarl. - -But he took Mr. Airey's cigar, and smoked it to the end. He knew that -Mr. Airey smoked Carolinas. - -This little scene took place outside the Castle before lunch on the -second day after the departure of Mr. Avon and his daughter; and, after -lunch, Lord Fotheringay put on a yachting jacket and cap, and announced -his intention of having a stroll along the cliffs. His doctor had long -ago assured him, he said, that he did not take sufficient exercise nor -did he breathe enough fresh air. He meant in future to put himself on a -strict regimen in this respect, and would begin at once. - -He was allowed to carry out his intention alone--indeed he did not -hint that his medical adviser had suggested company as essential to the -success of any scheme of open air exercise. - -The day was a breezy one, and the full force of the wind was felt at the -summit of the cliff coast; but like many other gentlemen who dread being -thought elderly, he was glad to seize every opportunity of showing that -he was as athletic as the best of the young fellows; so he strode along, -gasping and blowing with quite as much fresh air in his face as the most -exacting physician could possibly have prescribed for a single dose. - -He made his way to the mooring-place of the boats, and he found Brian in -the boat-house engaged in making everything snug. - -He was very civil to Brian, and after a transfer of coin, inquired about -the weather. - -There was a bit of a draught of wind in the lough, Brian said, but it -was a fine day for a sail. Would his lardship have a mind for a bit of -a sail? The _Acushla_ was cruising, but the _Mavourneen_, a neat little -craft that sailed like a swallow, was at his lardship's service. - -After some little consideration, Lord Fotheringay said that though -he had no idea of sailing when he left the Castle, yet he never could -resist the temptation of a fine breeze--it was nothing stronger than a -breeze that was blowing, was it? - -"A draught--just a bit of a draught," said the man. - -"In that case," said Lord Fotheringay, "I think I may venture. In fact, -now that I come to think of it, I should like to visit the opposite -shore. There is a Castle or something, is there not, on the opposite -shore?" - -"Is it a Castle?" said Brian. "Oh, there's a power of Castles scattered -along the other shore, my lard. It's thrippin' over them your lardship -will be after doin.'" - -"Then we'll not lose a moment in starting," said Lord Fotheringay. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI.--ON FRANKNESS AND FRIENDSHIP. - -BRIAN took care that no moment was lost. In the course of a very few -minutes Lord Fotheringay was seated on the windward thwarts of the boat, -his hands grasping the gunwale to right and left, and his head bowed -to mitigate in some measure the force of the shower of sea-water that -flashed over the boat as her hows neatly clipped the crest off every -wave. - -Lord Fotheringay held on grimly. He hated the sea and all connected with -it; though he hated the House of Lords to almost as great an extent, yet -he had offered the promoter of the Channel Tunnel to attend in the House -and lend the moral weight of his name to the support of the scheme. It -was only the breadth and spontaneousness of Brian's assurance that the -breeze was no more than a draught, that had induced him to carry out his -cherished idea of crossing the lough. - -"Didn't I tell your lardship that the boat could sail with the best of -them?" said the man, as he hauled in the sheet a trifle, and brought -the boat closer to the wind--a manouvre that did not tend to lessen the -cascade that deluged his passenger. - -Lord Fotheringay said not a word. He kept his head bowed to every flap -of the waves beneath the bows. His attitude would have commended itself -to any painter anxious to produce a type of Submission to the Will of -Heaven. - -He was aging quickly--so much Brian perceived, and dwelt upon--with -excellent effect--in his subsequent narrative of the voyage to some -of the servants at the Castle. The cosmetic that will withstand the -constant application of sea-water has yet to be invented, so that in -half an hour Lord Fotheringay would not have been recognized except by -his valet. Brian had taken aboard a well-preserved gentleman with a rosy -complexion and a moustache almost too black for nature. The person who -disembarked at the opposite side of the lough was a stooped old man with -lank streaky cheeks and a wisp of gray hair on each side of his upper -lip. - -"And it's a fine sailor your lardship is entirely," remarked the -boatman, as he lent his tottering, dazed passenger a helping hand up the -beach of pebbles. "And it's raal enjoyment your lardship will be after -having among the Castles of the ould quality, after your lardship's -sail." - -Not a word did Lord Fotheringay utter. He felt utterly broken down in -spirit, and it was not until he had got behind a rock and had taken out -a pocket-comb and a pocket-glass, and had by these auxiliaries, and the -application of a grain or two of roseate powder without which he never -ventured a mile from his base of supplies, repaired some of the ravages -of his voyage, that he ventured to make his way to the picturesque white -cottage, which Miss Avon had once pointed out to him as the temporary -residence of her father and herself. - -It was a five-roomed cottage that had been built and furnished by an -enthusiastic English fisherman for his accommodation during his annual -residence in Ireland. One, more glance did Lord Fotheringay give to his -pocket-mirror before knocking at the door. - -He would have had time to renew his youth, had he had his pigments -handy, before the door was opened by an old woman with a shawl over -her shoulders and a cap, that had possibly once been white, on her -straggling hairs. - -She made the stage courtesy of an old woman in front of Lord -Fotheringay, and explained that she was a little hard of hearing--she -was even obliging enough to give a circumstantial account of the -accident that was responsible for her infirmity. - -"Miss Avon?" said the old woman, when Lord Fotheringay had repeated -his original request in a louder tone. "Miss Avon? no, she's not here -now--not even her father, who was a jewel of a gentleman, though a bit -queer. God bless them both now that they have gone back to England, -maybe never to return." - -"Back to England. When?" shouted Lord Fotheringay. - -"Why, since early in the morning. The Blessed Virgin keep the young -lady from harm, for she's swater than honey, and the Saints preserve her -father, for he was--" - -Lord Fotheringay did not wait to hear the position of the historian -defined by the old woman. He turned away from the door with such words -as caused her infirmity to be a blessing in disguise. - -When Brian greeted his return with a few well-chosen phrases bearing -upon the architecture of the early Celtic nobles, Lord Fotheringay swore -at him; but the boatman, who did a little in that way himself when under -extreme provocation, only smiled as Lord Fotheringay took his seat in -the boat once more, and prepared for the ordeal of his passage. - -There was a good deal in Brian's smile. - -The wind had changed most unaccountably, he explained, so that it would, -he feared, be absolutely necessary to tack out almost to the entrance -of the lough in order to reach the mooring-place. For the next hour -he became the exponent of every system of sailing known to modern -navigators. After something over an hour of this manoeuvring, he had -compassion upon his victim, and ran the boat before the wind--he might -have done so at first if Lord Fotheringay had not shown such a poor -knowledge of men as to swear at him--to the mooring-place. - -"If it's not making too free with your lardship, I'd offer your lardship -a hand up the track," said Brian. "It's myself that has to go up to the -Castle anyway, with a letter to her ladyship from Miss Avon. Didn't -the young lady give it to me in the morning before she started with his -honour her father on the car?" - -"And you knew all this time that Miss Avon and her father had left the -neighbourhood?" said Lord Fotheringay, through his store teeth. - -"Tubbe sure I did," said Brian. "But Miss Avon didn't live in one of the -Castles of the ould quality that your lardship was so particular ready -to explore." - -Lord Fotheringay felt that his knowledge of the world and the dwellers -therein had its limits. - -It was at Lord Fotheringay's bedside that Harold said his farewell to -his father the next day. Lord Fotheringay's incipient rheumatism had -been acutely developed by his drenching of the previous afternoon, and -he thought it prudent to remain in bed. - -"You're going, are you?" snarled the Father. - -"Yes, I'm going," replied the Son. "Lord and Lady Innisfail leave -to-morrow." - -"Have you asked Miss Craven to marry you?" inquired the Father. - -"No," said Harold. - -"Why not--tell me that?" - -"I haven't made up my mind on the subject of marrying." - -"Then the sooner you make it up the better it will be for yourself. I've -been watching you pretty closely for some days--I did not fail to notice -a certain jaunty indifference to what was going on around you on the -night of your return from that tomfoolery in the boats--seal-hunting, -I think they called it. I saw the way you looked at Helen Craven that -night. Contempt, or something akin to contempt, was in every glance. Now -you know that she is to be at Ella's in October. You have thus six weeks -to make up your mind to marry her. If you make up your mind to marry -anyone else, you may make up your mind to live upon the three hundred a -year that your mother left you. Not a penny you will get from me. I've -stinted myself hitherto to secure you your allowance. By heavens, I'll -not do so any longer. You will only receive your allowance from me for -another year, and then only by signing a declaration at my lawyer's to -the effect that you are not married. I've heard of secret marriages -before now, but you needn't think of that little game. That's all I've -to say to you." - -"And it is enough," said Harold. "Good-bye." He left the room and then -he left the Castle, Lady Innisfail only shaking her head and whispering, -"You have disappointed me," as he made his adieux. - -The next day all the guests had departed--all, with the exception of -Lord Fotheringay, who was still too ill to move. In the course of some -days, however, the doctor thought that he might without risk--except, of -course, such as was incidental to the conveyance itself--face a drive on -an outside car, to the nearest railway-station. - -Before leaving him, as she was compelled to do owing to her own -engagements, Lady Innisfail had another interesting conversation--it -almost amounted to a consultation--with her friend Mrs. Burgoyne on the -subject of the Reform of the Hardened Reprobate. And the result of -their further consideration of the subject from every standpoint, was -to induce them to believe that, with such a powerful incentive to the -Higher Life as an acute rheumatic attack, Lord Fotheringay's reform -might safely be counted on. It might, at any rate, be freely discussed -during the winter. If, subsequently, he should become a backslider, it -would not matter. His reform would have gone the way of all topics. - -Helen Craven and Edmund Airey had also a consultation together on the -subject upon which they had previously talked more than once. - -Each of them showed such an anxiety to give prominence to the -circumstance that they were actuated solely for Harold's benefit in -putting into practice the plan which one of them had suggested, it was -pretty clear that they had an uneasy feeling that they required some -justification for the course which they had thought well to pursue. - -Yes, they agreed that Harold should be placed beyond the power of his -father. Mr. Airey said he had never met a more contemptible person than -Lord Fotheringay, and for the sake of making Harold independent of such -a father, he would, he declared, do again all that he had done during -the week of Miss Avon's sojourn at the Castle. - -It was, indeed, sad, Miss Craven felt, that Harold should have such a -father. - -"Perhaps it was because I felt this so strongly that I--I--well, I began -to ask myself if there might not be some way of escape for him," said -she, in a pensive tone that was quite different from the tone of the -frank communication that she had made to Mr. Airey some time before. - -"I can quite understand that," said Edmund. "Well, though Harold hasn't -shown himself to be wise--that is--" - -"We both know what that means," said she, anticipating his definition of -wisdom so far as Harold was concerned. - -"We do," said Edmund. "If he has not shown himself to be wise in this -way, he has not shown himself to be a fool in another way." - -"I suppose he has not," said she, thoughtfully. - -"Great heavens! you don't mean to think that--" - -"That he has told Beatrice Avon that he loves her? No, I don't fancy -that he has, still--" - -"Still?" - -"Well, I thought that, on their return from that awful seal-hunt, I saw -a change in both of them. It seemed to me that--that--well, I don't -quite know how I should express it. Haven't you seen a thirsty look on a -man's face?" - -"A thirsty look? I believe I have seen it on a woman's face." - -"It may be the same. Well, Harold Wynne's face wore such an expression -for days before the seal-hunt--I can't say that I noticed it on Beatrice -Avon's face at the same time; but so soon as they returned from the -boats on that evening, I noticed the change on Harold's--perhaps it was -only fancy." - -"I am inclined to believe that it was fancy. In my belief none of us was -quite the same after that wild cruise. I was beside Miss Avon all the -time that we were sailing out to the caves, and though she and Harold -were in the boat together, yet Lord Innisfail and Durdan were in the -same boat also. I can't see how they could have had any time for an -understanding while they were engaged in looking after the seals." - -Miss Craven shook her head doubtfully. It was clear that she was a -believer in the making of opportunities in such matters as those which -they were discussing. - -"Anyhow, we have done all that we could reasonably be expected to do," -said she. - -"And perhaps a trifle over," said he. "If it were not that I like Harold -so much--and you, too, my dear"--this seemed an afterthought--"I would -not have done all that I have done. It is quite unlikely that Miss Avon -and I shall be under the same roof again, but if we should be, I shall, -you may be certain, find out from her whether or not an understanding -exists between her and Harold. But what understanding could it be?" - -Miss Craven smiled. Was this the man who had made such a reputation -for cleverness, she asked herself--a man who placed a limit on the -opportunities of lovers, and then inquired what possible understanding -could be come to between a penniless man and a girl with "a gray eye or -so." - -"What understanding?" said she. "Why, he may have unfolded to her a -scheme for becoming Lord High Chancellor after two year's hard work at -the bar, with a garden-party now and again; or for being made a Bishop -in the same time; and their understanding may be to wait for one another -until the arrival of either event. Never mind. We have done our best for -him." - -"For them," said Edmund. - -Yes, he tried to bring himself to believe that all that he had done was -for the benefit of his friend Harold and for his friend Beatrice--to say -nothing of his friend Helen as well. After a time he did almost -force himself to believe that there was nothing that was not strictly -honourable in the endeavour that he had made, at Helen's suggestion, -to induce Beatrice Avon to perceive the possibility of her obtaining a -proposal of marriage from a rich and distinguished man, if she were -only to decline to afford the impecunious son of a dissolute peer an -opportunity of telling her that he loved her. - -Now and again, however, he had an uneasy twinge, as the thought occurred -to him that if some man, understanding the exact circumstances of the -case, were to be as frank with him as Helen Craven had been (once), -that man might perhaps be led to say that he had been making a fool of -Beatrice for the sake of gratifying his own vanity. - -It was just possible, and he knew it, that that frank friend--assuming -that frankness and friendship may exist together--might be disposed -to give prominence in this matter to the impulses of vanity, to the -exclusion of the impulses of friendship, and a desire to set the crooked -straight. - -Even the fortnight which he spent in Norway with one of the heads of -the Government party--a gentleman who would probably have shortly at his -disposal an important Under-Secretaryship--failed quite to abate these -little twinges that he had when he reflected upon the direction that -might be taken by a frank friend, in considering the question of the -responsibility involved in his attitude toward Miss Avon. - -It was just a week after Lord Fotheringay had left Castle Innisfail that -a stranger appeared in the neighbourhood--a strange gentleman with the -darkest hair and the fiercest eyes ever seen, even in that region of -dark hair and eyes. He inquired who were the guests at the Castle, and -when he learned that the last of them--a distinguished peer named Lord -Fotheringay--had gone some time, and that it was extremely unlikely that -the Castle would be open for another ten months, his eyes became -fiercer than ever. He made use of words in a strange tongue, which Brian -declared, if not oaths, would do duty for oaths without anyone being the -wiser. - -The stranger departed as mysteriously as he had come. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII.--ON CIRCUMVENTING A STAG. - -IF Edmund Airey had a good deal to think about in Norway, Harold Wynne -was certainly not without a subject for thought in Scotland. - -It was with a feeling of exultation that he had sat in the bows of the -cutter _Acushla_ on her return to her moorings after that seal-hunt -which everyone agreed had been an extraordinary success. Had this -expression of exultation been noticed by Lady Innisfail, it would, -naturally, have been attributed by her to the fact that he had been -in the boat that had made the largest catch of seals. To be sure, Miss -Craven, who had observed at least a change in the expression upon his -face, did not attribute it to his gratification on having slaughtered -some seals, but then Miss Craven was more acute than an ordinary -observer. - -He felt that he did well to be exultant, as he looked at Beatrice Avon -standing by the side of Lord Innisfail at the tiller. The wind that -filled the mainsail came upon her face and held her garments against her -body, revealing every gracious curve of her shape, and suggesting to his -eyes a fine piece of sculpture with flying drapery. - -And she was his. - -It seemed to him when he had begun to speak to her in the solemn -darkness of the seal-cave, that it was impossible that he could receive -any answer from her that would satisfy him. How was it possible that she -could love him, he had asked himself at some agonizing moments during -the week. He thought that she might possibly have come to love him in -time, if she had not been with him in the boat during that night of -mist, when the voice of Helen Craven had wailed round the cliffs. Her -arrival at the Castle could not but have revealed to her the fact that -she might obtain an offer of marriage from someone who was socially far -above him; and thus he had almost lost all hope of her. - -And yet she was his. - -The course adopted by his friend Edmund Airey had astonished him. He -could not believe that Airey had fallen in love with her. It was not -consistent with Airey's nature to fall in love with anyone, he believed. -But he knew that in the matter of falling in love, people do not always -act consistently with their character; so that, after all, Airey might -be only waiting an opportunity to tell her that he had fallen in love -with her. - -The words that he had overheard Airey speak to her upon the night of the -_tableaux_ in the hall--words that had driven him out into the night of -rain and storm to walk madly along the cliffs, and to wonder if he were -to throw himself into the waves beneath, would he be strong enough to -let himself sink into their depths or weak enough to make a struggle for -life--those words had cleared away whatever doubts he had entertained as -to Edmund's intentions. - -And yet she was his. - -She had answered his question so simply and clearly--with such -earnestness and tenderness as startled him. It seemed that they had -come to love each other, as he had read of lovers doing, from the first -moment that they had met. It seemed that her love had, like his, only -increased through their being kept apart from each other--mainly by -the clever device of Miss Craven and the co-operation of Edmund Airey, -though, of course, Harold did not know this. - -His reflections upon this marvel--the increase of their love, though -they had few opportunities of being together and alone--would have been -instructive even to persons so astute and so ready to undertake the -general control of events as Mr. Airey and Miss Craven. Unfortunately, -however, they were as ignorant of what had taken place to induce these -reflections as he was of the conspiracy between them to keep him apart -from Beatrice to secure his happiness and the happiness of Beatrice. - -The fact that Beatrice loved him and had confessed her love for him, -though they had had so few opportunities of being together, seemed to -him the greatest of all the marvels that he had recently experienced. - -As he gave a farewell glance at the lough and recollected how, a -fortnight before, he had walked along the cliffs and had cast to the -winds all his cherished ideas of love, he could not help feeling that -he had been surrounded with marvels. He had had a narrow escape--he -actually regarded a goodlooking young woman with several thousands of -pounds of an income, as a narrow escape. - -This was the last of the reflections that came to him with the sound of -the green seas choked in the narrows of the lough. - -The necessity of preserving himself from sudden death--the Irish -outside car on which he was driving was the worst specimen he had yet -seen--absorbed all his thoughts when he had passed through the village -of Ballycruiskeen; and by the time he had got out of the train that -carried him to the East Coast--a matter of six hours travelling--and -aboard the steamer that bore him to Glasgow, the exultation that he -had felt on leaving Castle Innisfail, and on reflecting upon the great -happiness that had come to him, was considerably chastened. - -He was due at two houses in Scotland. At the first he meant to do -a little shooting. The place was not inaccessible. After a day's -travelling he found himself at a railway station fifteen miles from his -destination. He eventually reached the place, however, and he had some -shooting, which, though indifferent, was far better than it was possible -to obtain on Lord Innisfail's mountains--at least for Lord Innisfail's -guests to obtain. - -The second place was still further north--it was now and again alluded -to as the North Pole by some visitors who had succeeded in finding -their way to it, in spite of the directions given to them by the various -authorities on the topography of the Highlands. Several theories -existed as to the best way of reaching this place, and Harold, who -knew sufficient Scotch to be able to take in the general meaning of the -inhabitants without the aid of an interpreter, was made aware while -at the shooting lodge, of these theories. Hearing, however, that some -persons had actually been known to find the place, he felt certain -that they had struck out an independent course for themselves. It was -incredible to him that any of them had reached it by following the -directions they had received on the subject. He determined to follow -their example; and he had reached the place--eventually. - -It was when he had been for three days following a stag, that he began -to think of his own matters in a dispassioned way. Crawling on one's -stomach along a mile or two of boggy land and then wriggling through -narrow spaces among the rocks--sitting for five or six hours on -gigantic sponges (damp) of heather, with one's chin on one's knees for -strategical purposes, which the gillies pretend they understand, but -which they keep a dead secret--shivering as the Scotch mist clothes one -as with a wet blanket, then being told suddenly that there is a stag -thirty yards to windward--getting a glimpse of it, missing it, and -then hearing the gillies exchanging remarks in a perfectly intelligible -Gaelic regarding one's capacity--these incidents constitute an -environment that tends to make one look dispassionately upon such -marvels as Harold had been considering in a very different spirit while -the Irish lough was yet within hearing. - -On the third day that he had been trying to circumvent the stag, Harold -felt despondent--not about the stag, for he had long ago ceased to take -any interest in the brute--but about his own future. - -It is to be regretted (sometimes) that an exchange of sentiments on -the subject of love between lovers does not bring with it a change of -circumstances, making possible the realization of a scheme of life in -which those sentiments shall play an active part--or at least as active -a part as sentiments can play. This was Harold's great regret. Since he -had found that he loved Beatrice and that Beatrice loved him, the world -naturally appeared lovelier also. But it was with the loveliness of a -picture that hangs in a public gallery, not as an individual possession. - -His material circumstances, so far from having improved since he had -confessed to Edmund Airey that it was necessary for him to marry a woman -with money, had become worse; and yet he had given no thought to the -young woman with the money, but a great many thoughts to the young woman -who had, practically, none. He felt that no more unsatisfactory state of -matters could be imagined. And yet he felt that it would be impossible -to take any steps with a view of bringing about a change. - -He had received several letters from Beatrice, and he had written -several to her; but though in more than one he had told her in that -plain strain which one adopts when one does not desire to be in any way -convincing, that it was a most unfortunate day for her when she met him, -still he did not suggest that their correspondence should cease. - -What was to be the end of their love? - -It was the constant attempt to answer this question that gave the stag -his chance of life when, on the afternoon of the third day, Harold was -commanded by his masters the gillies to fire into that thickening in the -mist which he was given to understand by an unmistakable pantomime, was -the stag. - -While the gillies were exchanging their remarks in Gaelic, flavouring -them with very smoky whiskey, he was thinking, not of the escape of the -stag, but of what possible end there could be to the love that existed -between Beatrice and himself. - -It was the renewed thinking upon this question that brought about the -death of that particular stag and two others before the next evening, -for he had arrived at a point when he felt that he must shoot either -a stag or himself. He had arrived at a condition of despair that made -pretty severe demands upon him. - -The slaughter of the stags saved him. When he saw their bodies stretched -before him he felt exultant once more. He felt that he had overcome his -fate; and it was the next morning before he realized the fact that he -had done nothing of the sort--that the possibility of his ever being -able to marry Beatrice Avon was as remote as it had been when he had -fired blindly into the mist, and his masters, who had carried the guns, -exhausted (he believed) the resources, of Gaelic sarcasm in comment. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII.--ON ENJOYING A RESPITE. - -IT was the first week in October when Harold Wynne found himself in -London. He had got a letter from Beatrice in which she told him that she -and her father would return to London from Holland that week. Mr. Avon -had conscientiously followed the track of an Irish informer in whom he -was greatly interested, and who had, at the beginning of the century, -found his way to Holland, where he was looked upon as a poor exile from -Erin. He had betrayed about a dozen of his fellow-countrymen to their -enemies, and had then returned to Ireland to live to an honoured old age -on the proceeds of the bargain he had made for their heads. - -The result of Harold's consideration of the position that he occupied in -regard to Beatrice, was this visit to London. He made up his mind that -he should see her and tell her that, like Mrs. Browning's hero, he loved -her so well that he only could leave her. - -He could bring himself to do it, he felt. He believed that he was equal -to an act of heroic self-sacrifice for the sake of the girl--that -was how he put the matter to himself when being soaked on the Scotch -mountain. Yes, he would go to her and tell her that the conclusion -to which he had come was that they must forget one another--that only -unhappiness could result from the relationship that existed between -them. He knew that there is no more unsatisfactory relationship between -a man and a woman than that which has love for a basis, but with no -prospect of marriage; and he knew that so long as his father lived -and continued selfish--and only death could divide him from his -selfishness--marriage with Beatrice was out of the question. - -It was with this resolution upon him that he drove to the address in the -neighbourhood of the British Museum, where Beatrice said she was to be -found with her father. - -It was one of those mansions which at some period in the early part of -the century had been almost splendid; now it was simply large. It -was not the house that Harold would have cared to occupy, even rent -free--and this was a consideration to him. But for a scholar who had a -large library of his own, and who found it necessary to be frequently -in the neighbourhood of the larger Library at the Museum, the house must -undoubtedly have had its advantages. - -She was not at home. The elderly butler said that Mr. Avon had found it -necessary to visit Brussels for a few days, and he had thus been delayed -on the Continent beyond the date he had appointed for his return. -He would probably be in England by the end of the week--the day was -Wednesday. - -Harold left the gloom of Bloomsbury behind him, feeling a curious -satisfaction at having failed to see Beatrice--the satisfaction of a -respite. Some days must elapse before he could make known his resolution -to her. - -He strolled westward to a club of which he was a member--the Bedouin, -and was about to order dinner, when someone came behind him and laid a -hand, by no means gently, on his shoulder. Some of the Bedouins thought -it _de rigueur_ to play such pranks upon each other; and, to do them -justice, it was only rarely that they dislocated a friend's shoulder or -gave a nervous friend a fit. People said one never knew what was -coming from the moment they entered the Bedouin Club, and the prominent -Bedouins accepted this statement as embodying one of the most agreeable -of its many distinctive features. - -Harold was always prepared for the worst in this place, so when -the force of the blow swung him round and he saw an extremely plain -arrangement of features, distorted by a smile of extraordinary breadth, -beneath a closely-cropped crown of bright red hair, he merely said, -"Hallo, Archie, you here? I thought you were in South Africa -lion-hunting or something." - -The smile that had previously distorted the features of the young man, -was of such fulness that it might reasonably have been taken for granted -that it could not be increased; the possessor showed, however, that -that smile was not the result of a supreme effort. So soon as Harold had -spoken he gave a wink, and that wink seemed to release the mechanical -system by which his features were contorted, for in an instant his -face became one mouth. In plain words, this mouth of the young man had -swallowed up his other features. All that could be seen of his face was -that enormous mouth flanked by a pair of enormous ears, like plantain -leaves growing on each side of the crater of a volcano. - -Harold looked at him and laughed, then picked up a _menu_ card and -studied it until he calculated that the young man whom he had addressed -as Archie should have thrown off so much of his smile as would enable -him to speak. - -He gave him plenty of time, and when he looked round he saw that some of -the young man's features had succeeded in struggling to the surface, as -it were, beneath the circular mat of red hair that lay between his ears. - -"No South Africa for me, tarty chip," said Archie. ("Tarty chip" was -the popular term of address that year among young men about town. Its -philological significance was never discovered.) - -"No South Africa for me; I went one better than that," continued the -young man. - -"I doubt it," said Harold. "I've had my eye on you until lately. You -have usually gone one worse. Have you any money left--tell the truth?" - -"Money? I asked the tarty chips that look after that sort of thing for -me how I stood the other day," said Archie, "and I'm ashamed to say that -I've been spending less than my income--that is until a couple of months -ago. I've still about three million. What does that mean?" - -"That you've got rid of about a million inside two years," said Harold. - -"You're going it blind," said Archie. "It only means that I've spent -fifty decimals in eighteen months. I can spare that, tarty chip." (It -may possibly be remembered that in the slang of the year a decimal -signified a thousand pounds.) "That means that you've squandered a -fortune, Archie," said Harold, thinking what fifty thousand pounds would -mean to him. - -"There's not much of a squander in the deal when I got value for it," -said Archie. "I got plenty of value. I've got to know all about this -world." - -"And you'll soon get to know all about the next, if you go on at this -rate," said Harold. - -"Not me; I've got my money in sound places. You heard about my show." - -"Your show? I've heard about nothing for the past year but your shows. -What's the latest? I want something to eat." - -"Oh, come with me to my private trough," cried the young man. "Don't lay -down a mosaic pavement in your inside in this hole. Come along, tarty -chip; I've got a _chef_ named Achille--he knows what suits us--also some -'84 Heidsieck. Come along with me, and I'll tell you all about the show. -We'll go there together later on. We'll take supper with her." - -"Oh! with her?" - -"To be sure. You don't mean to say that you haven't heard that I've -taken the Legitimate Theatre for Mrs. Mowbray? Where on God's footstool -have you been for the past month?" - -"Not further than the extreme North of Scotland. It was far enough. I -saw a paragraph stating that Mrs. Mowbray, after being a failure in a -number of places, had taken the Legitimate. What has that got to say to -you?" - -"Not much, but I've got a good deal to say to it. Oh, come along, and -I'll tell you all about it. I'm building a monument for myself. I've got -the Legitimate and I mean to make Irving and the rest of them sit up." - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX.--ON THE ADVANTAGES OF READY MONEY. - -ARCHIE BROWN was the only son of Mr. John Brown, the eminent -contractor. Mr. John Brown had been a man of simple habits and no -tastes. When a working navvy he had acquired a liking for oatmeal -porridge, and up to the day of his death, when he had some twenty -thousand persons in his employment, each of them earning money for him, -he never rose above this comestible. He lived a thoroughly happy life, -taking no thought about money, and having no idea, beyond the building -of drinking fountains in his native town, how to spend the profits -realized on his enormous transactions. - -Now, as the building of even the most complete system of drinking -fountains, in a small town in Scotland, does not produce much impression -upon the financial position of a man with some millions of pounds in -cash, and making business profits to the extent of two hundred thousand -a year, it was inevitable that, when a brick one afternoon fell on Mr. -John Brown's head and fractured his skull so severely as to cause his -death, his only son should be left very well provided for. - -Archie Brown was left provided with some millions in cash, and with -property that yielded him about one hundred pounds a day. - -Up to the day of his father's death he had never had more than five -hundred a year to spend as pocket-money--he had saved even out of this -modest sum, for he had scarcely any more expensive tastes than his -father, though he had ever regarded _sole à la Normande_ as more -palatable than oatmeal porridge as a breakfast dish. - -He had never caused his father a moment's uneasiness; but as soon as he -was given a bird's eye view, so to speak, of his income, he began to ask -himself if there might not be something in the world more palatable even -than _sole à la Normande_. - -In the course of a year or two he had learned a good deal on the subject -of what was palatable and what was not; for from the earliest records it -is understood that the knowledge of good and the knowledge of evil may -be found on the one tree. - -He began to be talked about, and that is always worth paying money -for--some excellent judges say that it is the only thing worth paying -money for. Occasionally he paid a trifle over the market price for this -commodity. But then he knew that he generally paid more than the market -price for everything that he bought, from his collars, which were -unusually high, down to his boots, which were of glazed kid, so that he -did not complain. - -He found that, after a while, the tradespeople, seeing that he paid -them cash, treated him fairly, and that the person who supplied him with -cigars was actually generous when he bought them by the thousand. - -People who at first had fancied that Mr. Archibald Brown was a -plunger--that is, a swindler whom they could swindle out of his -thousands--had reason to modify their views on the subject after some -time. For six months he had been imposed upon in many directions. But -with all the other things which had to be paid for, the fruit of -the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil should, he knew, be included. -Imported in a fresh condition this was, he knew, expensive; but he had -a sufficient acquaintance with the elements of fruit-culture to be well -aware of the fact that in this condition it is worth very much more than -the canned article. - -He bought his knowledge of good and evil fresh. - -He was no fool, some people said, exultantly. - -These were the people whose friends had tried to impose on him but had -not succeeded. - -He was no fool, some people said regretfully. - -These were the people who had tried to impose on him but had not -succeeded. - -Harold had always liked Archie Brown, and he had offered him much -advice--vegetarian banquets of the canned fruit of the Tree of -Knowledge. The shrewd outbursts of confidence in which Archie indulged -now and again, showed Harold that he was fast coming to understand his -position in society--his friends and his enemies. - -Harold, after some further persuasion, got into the hansom which Archie -had hailed, and was soon driving down Piccadilly to the spacious rooms -of the latter--rooms furnished in a wonderful fashion. As a panorama -of styles the sitting-room, which was about thirty feet square, with a -greenhouse in the rear, would have been worth much to a lecturer on -the progress or decadence of art--any average lecturer could make the -furniture bear out his views, whether they took one direction or the -other. - -Two cabinets which had belonged to Louis XV were the finest specimens -known in the world. They contained Sèvres porcelain and briar-root -pipes. A third cabinet was in the purest style of boarding house art. -A small gilt sofa was covered with old French tapestry which would have -brought five pounds the square inch at an auction. Beside it was -the famous Four-guinea Tottenham Armchair in best Utrecht -velvet--three-nine-six in cretonne, carriage paid to any railway-station -in the United Kingdom. - -A chair, the frame of which was wholly of ivory, carved in Italy, in the -seventeenth century, by the greatest artist that ever lived, apparently -had its uses in Archie Brown's _entourage_, for it sustained in an -upright position a half-empty soda-water bottle--the bottle would not -have stood upright but for the high relief in the carving of the flowing -hair of the figure of Atalanta at one part of the frame. Near it was an -interesting old oak chair that was for some time believed to have once -belonged to King Henry VIII. - -In achieving this striking contrast to the carved ivory, Mr. Brown -thought that he had proved his capacity to appreciate an important -element in artistic arrangement. He pointed it out to Harold without -delay. He had pointed it out to every other person who had visited his -rooms. - -He also pointed out a picture by one Rembrandt which he had picked up -at an auction for forty shillings. A dealer had subsequently assured him -that if he wanted a companion picture by the same painter he would -not guarantee to procure it for him at a lower figure than -twenty-five guineas--perhaps it might even cost him as high as thirty; -therefore--the logic was Archie's--the Rembrandt had been a dead -bargain. - -Harold looked at this Burgomaster's Daughter in eighteenth century -costume, and said that undoubtedly the painter knew what he was about. - -"And so does Archie, tarty chip," said his host, leading him to one of -the bedrooms. - -"Now it's half past seven," said Archie, leaving him, "and dinner will -be served at a quarter to eight. I've never been late but once, and -Achille was so hurt that he gave me notice. I promised that it should -never occur again, and it hasn't. He doesn't insist on my dressing for -dinner, though he says he should like it." - -"Make my apologies to Achille," said Harold. - -"Oh, that won't be necessary," said Archie seriously--"at least I think -it won't." - -Harold had never been in these rooms before--he wondered how it had -chanced that he came to them at all. But before he had partaken of more -than one of the _hors d'ouvres_--there were four of them--he knew -that he had done well to come. Achille was an artist, the Sauterne was -Chateau Coutet of 1861, and the champagne was, as Archie had promised -it should be, Heidsieck of 1884. The electric light was artfully toned -down, and the middle-aged butler understood his business. - -"This is the family trough," said Archie. "I say, Harry, isn't it one -better than the oatmeal porridge of our dads--I mean of my dad; yours, I -know, was always one of us; my dad wasn't, God bless him! If he had been -we shouldn't be here now. He'd have died a pauper." - -Harold so far forgot himself as to say, "Doesn't Carlyle remark -somewhere that it's the fathers who work that the sons--ah, never mind." - -"Carlyle? What Carlyle was that? Do I know him?" asked Archie. - -"No," said Harold, shaking his head. - -"He isn't a tarty chip, eh?" - -"Tart, not tarty." - -"Oh. Don't neglect this jelly. It's the best thing that Achille does. -It's the only thing that he ever repeats himself in. He came to me -boasting that he could give me three hundred and sixty-five different -dinners in the year. 'That's all very well,' said I, 'but what about -Leap Year?' I showed him there that his bluff wouldn't do. 'Pass' said -I, and he passed. But we understand one another now. I will say that he -has never repeated himself except in this jelly. I make him give it to -me once a week." - -"You're right," said Harold. "It is something to think about." - -"Yes, while you're in front of it, but never after," said Archie. -"That's what Achille says. 'The true dinner,' says he, 'is the one that -makes you think while you're at it, but that never causes you a thought -afterwards.'" - -"Achille is more than an artist, he is a philosopher," said Harold. -"What does he call this?" he glanced at the menu card. "'_Glace à la -chagrin d'Achille_' What does he mean by that? 'The chagrin of -Achilles'? Where does the chagrin come in?" - -"Oh, he has some story about a namesake of his," said Archie. "He was -cut up about something, and he wouldn't come out of the marquee." - -"The tent," cried Harold. "Achilles sulked in his tent. Of course, -that's the '_chagrin d'Achille_.'" - -"Oh, you heard of it too? Then the story has managed to leak out -somehow. They always do. There's nothing in it. Now I'll tell you all -about the show. Try one of these figs." - -Harold helped himself to a green fig, the elderly butler placed a -decanter of claret on the table, and disappeared with the noiselessness -of a shadow. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX.--ON THE LEGITIMATE IN ART. - -WHEN the history of the drama in England during the last twenty years -of the nineteenth century comes to be written, the episode of the -management of the Legitimate Theatre by Mrs. Mowbray will doubtless be -amply treated from the standpoint of art, and the historian will, it may -be confidently expected, lament the want of appreciation on the part -of the public for the Shakespearian drama, to which the closing of the -Legitimate Theatre was due. - -There were a considerable number of persons, however, who showed a -readiness to assert that the management of the Legitimate by Mrs. -Mowbray should be looked upon as a purely--only purely was not the word -they used--social incident, having no basis whatever in art. It -failed, they said, not because the people of England had ceased to -love Shakespeare, but because Mr. Archie Brown had ceased to love Mrs. -Mowbray. - -However this may be, there were also people who said that the Legitimate -Theatre under the management of Mrs. Mowbray could not have been so -great a financial failure, after all; for Mrs. Mowbray, when her -season came to an end, wore as expensive dresses as ever, and drove as -expensive horses as ever; and as everyone who had been associated with -the enterprise had been paid--some people said overpaid--the natural -assumption was that Shakespeare on the stage was not so abhorrent to the -people of England as was generally supposed. - -The people who took this view of the matter were people who had never -heard the name of Mr. Archie Brown--people who regarded Mrs. Mowbray -as a self-sacrificing lady who had so enthusiastic a desire to make the -public acquainted with the beauties of Shakespeare, that she was quite -content to spend her own fortune (wherever that came from) in producing -"Cymbeline" and other masterpieces at the Legitimate. - -There were other people who said that Archie Brown was a young ass. - -There were others who said that Mrs. Mowbray was a harpy. - -There were others still--they were mostly men--who said that Mrs. -Mowbray was the handsomest woman in England. - -The bitterest--they were mostly women--said that she was both handsome -and a harpy. - -The truth regarding the difficult question of the Legitimate Theatre was -gathered by Harold Wynne, as he swallowed his claret and ate his olives -at the dining table at Archie Birown's rooms in Piccadilly. - -He perceived from what Archie told him, that Archie had a genuine -enthusiasm in the cause of Shakespeare. How he had acquired it, he might -have had considerable difficulty in explaining. He also gathered that -Mrs. Mowbray cared very little for Shakespeare except as a medium for -impressing upon the public the fact--she believed it to be a fact--that -Mrs. Mowbray was the most beautiful woman in England. - -"Cymbeline" had, she considered, been written in the prophetic instinct, -which the author so frequently manifested, that one day a woman with -such shapely limbs as Mrs. Mowbray undoubtedly possessed, might desire -to exhibit them to the public of this grand old England of Shakespeare's -and ours. - -Mrs. Mowbray was probably the most expensive taste that any man in -England could entertain. - -All this Harold gathered from the account of the theatrical enterprise, -as communicated to him by Archie after dinner. - -And the best of it all was, Archie assured him, that no human being -could say a word against the character of Mrs. Mowbray. - -"I never heard a word against the character of her frocks," said Harold. - -"It's a big thing, the management of the Legitimate," said Archie, -gravely. - -"No doubt; even when it's managed, shall we say, legitimately?" said -Harold. - -"I feel the responsibility, I can tell you," said Archie. "Shakespeare -has never been given a proper chance in England; and although she's a -year or two older than me, yet on the box seat of my coach she doesn't -look a day over twenty-two--just when a woman is at her best, Harry. -What I want to know is, shall it be said of us that Shakespeare--the -immortal Shakespeare, mind you--Stratford upon Avon, you know--" - -"I believe I have his late address," said Harold. - -"That's all right. But what I want to know is, shall it be said that -we are willing to throw our Shakespeare overboard? In the scene in the -front of the cave she is particularly fine." - -In an instant Harold's thoughts were carried back to a certain scene -in front of a cave on a moonlight night; and for him the roar of life -through Piccadilly was changed to the roar of the Atlantic. His thoughts -remained far away while Archie talked gravely of building himself a -monument by his revival of "Cymbeline", with which the Legitimate had -been opened by Mrs. Mowbray. Of course, the thing hadn't begun to pay -yet, he explained. Everyone knew that the Bicycle had ruined theatrical -business in London; but the Legitimate could fight even the Bicycle, and -when the public had the beauty of Mrs. Mowbray properly impressed upon -them, Shakespeare would certainly obtain that recognition which he -deserves from England. Were Englishmen proud of Shakespeare, or were -they not? that was what Archie wished very much to know. If the people -of your so-called British Islands wish to throw Shakespeare overboard, -just let them say so. But if they threw him over, the responsibility -would rest with them; Mrs. Mowbray would still be the handsomest woman -in England. At any rate, "Cymbeline" at the Legitimate would be a -monument. - -"As a lighthouse is a monument," said Harold, coming back from the Irish -lough to Piccadilly. - -"I knew you'd agree with me," said Archie. "You know that I've always -had a great respect for your opinion, Harry. I don't object so much as -some tarty chips to your dad. I wish he'd see Mrs. Mowbray. There's no -vet. whose opinion I'd sooner take on the subject than his. He'd find -her all right." - -Harold looked at the young man whose plain features--visible when he did -not smile too broadly--displayed the enthusiasm that possessed him when -he was fancying that his devotion to the beauty of Mrs. Mowbray was a -true devotion to Shakespeare. Archie Brown, he was well aware, was very -imperfectly educated. - -He was not, however, much worse than the general run of people. Like -them he knew only enough of Shakespeare to be able to misquote him now -and again; and, like them, he believed that. Darwinism meant nothing -more than that men had once been monkeys. - -Harold looked at Archie, and felt that Mrs. Mowbray was a fortunate woman -in having met with him. The monument was being raised, Harold felt; and -he was right. The management of the Legitimate-Theatre was a memorial to -Vanity working heart, and soul with Ignorance to the praise and glory of -Shakespeare. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI.--ON A BLACK SHEEP. - -BEFORE Archie had completed his confidences, a visitor was announced. - -"Oh, it's only old Playdell," said Archie. "You know old Playdell, of -course." - -"I'm not so certain that I do," said Harold. - -"Oh, he's a good old soul who was kicked out of the Church by the bishop -for doing something or other. He's useful to me--keeps my correspondence -in order--spots the chaps that write the begging letters, and sees that -they don't get anything out of me, while he takes care that all the -genuine ones get all that they deserve. He's an Oxford man." - -"Playdell--Playdell," said Harold. "Surely he can't be the fellow that -got run out for marrying people without a licence?" - -"That's his speciality," said Archie. "Come along, chippie Chaplain. -Chip in, and have a glass of something." - -A middle-aged man, wearing the coat and the tie of a cleric, entered the -room with a smile and a bow to Harold. - -"You've heard of Mr. Wynne, Play?" said Archie. "The Honourable Harold -Wynne. He's heard of you--yes, you bet your hoofs on that." - -"I dare say you've heard of me, Mr. Wynne," said the man. "It's the -black sheep in a flock that obtain notoriety; the colourless ones escape -notice. I'm a black sheep." - -"You're about as black as they make them, old Play," remarked Archie, -with a prompt and kindly acquiescence. "But your blackness doesn't go -deeper than the wool." - -"You say that because you are always disposed to be charitable, Archie," -said Mr. Playdell. "Even with you I'm afraid that another notorious -character is not so black as he's painted." - -"Neither he is," said Archie. "You know as well as I do that the devil -is not so black as he used to be--he's turning gray in his old age." - -"They treated me worse than they treated the Fiend himself, Mr. Wynne," -said Playdell. "They turned me out of the Church, but the Church still -retains the Prince of Darkness. He is still the most powerful auxiliary -that the Church knows." - -"If you expressed that sentiment when in orders," said Harold, "I can -quite easily understand how you find yourself outside the Church." - -"I was quite orthodox when in the Church, Mr. Wynne. I couldn't afford -to be otherwise," said Playdell. "I wasn't even an Honest Doubter. I -felt that if I had begun to doubt I might become a Dissenter before -I knew what I was about. It is only since I left the Church that I've -indulged in the luxury of being unorthodox." - -"Take a glass of wine for your stomach's sake," said Archie. - -"That lad is the son of a Scotch Nonconformist," said Mr. Playdell -to Harold; "hence the text. Would it be unorthodox to say that an -inscrutable Providence did not see fit to preserve the reply of Timothy -to that advice? For my own part I cannot doubt for a moment that Timothy -inquired for what other reason his correspondent fancied he might take -the wine. I like my young patron's La Rose. It must have been something -very different from this that the person alluded to when he said 'my -love is better than wine.' Yes, I've always thought that the truth of -the statement was largely dependent on the wine." - -"I'll take my oath that isn't orthodox," said Archie. "You'd better mind -what you're about, chippie Chaplain, or I'll treat you as the bishop -did. This is an orthodox household, let me tell you." - -"I feel like Balaam's ass sometimes, Mr. Wynne, in this situation," said -Mr. Playdell. "In endeavouring to avoid the angel with the sword on one -hand--that is the threatening orthodoxy of the Church--I make myself -liable to a blow from the staff of the prophet--our young friend is the -prophet." - -"I will say this for you, chippie Chaplain," said Archie, "you've kept -me straight. Not that I ever did take kindly to the flowing bowl; but we -all know what temptations there are." He looked into his glass and spoke -solemnly, shaking his head. "Yes, Harry, I've never drunk a thimbleful -more than I should since old Play here lectured me." - -"If I could only persuade you--''commenced Mr. Playdell. - -"But I'm not such an ass," cried Archie, interrupting him. Then he -turned to Harold, saying, "The chippie Chaplain wants to marry me -to some one whose name we never mention. That has always been his -weakness--marrying tarty chips that he had no right to marry." - -"If I don't mistake, Mr. Playdell, it was this little weakness that -brought you to grief," said Harold. - -"It was the only point that the bishop could lay hold of, Mr. Wynne," -said Playdell. "I held, and I still hold, that the ceremony of marriage -may be performed by any person who has been ordained--that the question -of a licence is not one that should come forward upon any occasion. -Those who hold other opinions are those who would degrade the ordinance -into a mere civil act." - -"And you married without question every couple who came to you, I -believe?" said Harold. - -"I did, Mr. Wynne. And I will be happy to marry any other couples who -come to me for that purpose now." - -"But, you are no longer in the Church, and such marriages would be no -marriages in the eyes of the law." - -"Nothing can be more certain, Mr. Wynne. But I know that there are many -persons in this country who hold, with me, that the ordinance is not one -that should be made the subject of a licence bought from a bishop--who -hold that the very act of purchase is a gross degradation of the -ordinance of God." - -"I say, chippie Chaplain, haven't we had enough of that?" said Archie. -"You've pegged away at that marriage business with me for a good many -months. Now, I say, pass the marriage business. Let us have a fresh -deal." - -"Mr. Wynne, I merely wished to explain my position to you," said -Playdell. "I'm on the side of the angels in this question, as a great -statesman but a poor scientist said of another question." - -"Pass the statesman as well," cried Archie. - -"What do tarty chips like us care for politics or other fads? He told -me the other day, Harry, that instead of introducing a bill for the -admission of ladies as members of Parliament, it would soon be necessary -to introduce a bill for the admission of gentlemen as members--yes, you -said that. You can't deny it." - -"I don't," said Mr. Playdell. "The result of the last General -Election--" - -"Pass the General Election," shouted Archie. "Mr. Wynne hates that sort -of thing. Now give an account of yourself. What have you done to earn -your screw since morning?" - -"This is what I have come to, Mr. Wynne," said Playdell. "Think of it; a -clergyman and M.A. Oxon, forced to give an account of his stewardship to -a young cub like that!" He laughed after a moment of seriousness. - -"You don't seem to feel deeply the degradation," remarked Harold. - -"It's nothing to the depths to which I have fallen," said Mr. Playdell. -"I was never more than a curate, but in spite of the drawback of -being privileged to preach the Gospel twice a week, the curacy was a -comfortable one. I published two volumes of my sermons, Mr. Wynne. They -sold poorly in England, but I believe that in America they made the -fortune of the publishers that pirated them. It is perfectly well known -that my sermons achieved a great and good purpose in the States. They -were practical. I will say that for them. The leader of the corner in -hogs who ran the prices up last autumn, sold out of the business, I -understand, after reading my sermon on the text, 'The husks that the -swine do eat.' Several judges also resigned, admitting that they -were converted. It was freely stated that even a Congressman had been -reformed by one sermon of mine, while another was known to have brought -tears to the eyes of a reporter on the _New York Herald_. And yet, with -all these gratifying results, I never got a penny out of the American -edition. Just think what would happen on this side of the Atlantic if, -let us say, a Royal Academician were to find grace through a sermon, -or--to assume an extreme case--a member of the Stock Exchange? Why, -the writer would be a made man. I had thoughts of going to America, -Mr. Wynne. At any rate, I'm going to deal with the publishers there -directly. A firm in Boston is at present about to boom a Bowdlerized -edition of the Bible which I have prepared for family reading in the -States--not a word in it that the purest-minded young woman in all -Boston might not see. It should sell, Mr. Wynne. I'm also translating -into English a volume of American humour." - -"I'll give you a chance of going to America, before you sleep if you -don't dry up about your sermons and suchlike skittles," said Archie. -"The decanter's beside you. Fill your glass. Mr. Wynne is coming to my -show to-night." - -Mr. Playdell passed the decanter without filling his glass. "You know -that I never take more than one glass of La Rose," said he. "I have -found out all about your house painter who fell off the ladder and broke -all his ribs--he is the same as your Clergyman's Orphan, and he lives -in the same house as your Widow of a Naval Officer whose little all -was invested in a fraudulent building society--he is also 'First -Thessalonians seven and ten. P.O.O. or stamps'." - -"Great Godfrey!" cried Archie; "and I had already written out a cheque -for twenty pounds to send to that swindler! Do you mean to tell me, -Play, that all those you've mentioned are impostors?" - -"All? Why, there's only one impostor among the lot," said Mr. Playdell. -"He is 'First Thessalonians,' and he has at least a dozen branch -establishments." - -"It's enough to make a tarty chip disgusted with God's footstool," said -Archie. "Before old Play took me in hand I used to fling decimals about -right and left, without inquiry." - -"He was the sole support of several of the most notorious swindlers -in the country," said Mr. Playdell. "I've managed to whittle them down -considerably. Shakespeare is at present the only impostor that has -defied my efforts," he added, in a whisper to Harold. - -Harold laughed. He was beginning to feel some remorse at having -previously looked on Archie Brown as a good-natured fool. He now felt -that, in spite of Mrs. Mowbray, he would not wreck his life. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII.--ON SHAKESPEARE AND SUPPER. - -CARRIAGES by the score were waiting at the fine Corinthian entrance -to the Legitimate, when Harold and Archie reached the theatre in their -hansom. The _façade_ of the Legitimate Theatre is so severely Corinthian -that foreign visitors invariably ask what church it is. - -It was probably the classical columns supporting the pediment of the -entrance that caused Archie to abate his frivolous conversation with his -friend in the hansom--Archie had been expressing the opinion that it was -exhilarating--only exhilarating was not the word he used--to swear at -a man who had once been a clergyman and who still wore the dress of a -cleric. "A chap feels that his turn has come," he had said. "No matter -how wrong they are you can't swear at them and tell them to come down -out of that, when they're in their own pulpits--they'd have you up for -brawling. That's why I like to take it out of old Playdell. He tells me, -however, that there's no dean in the Church that gathers in the decimals -as he does in my shop. But, bless you! he saves me his screw three times -over." - -But now that the classical front of the Legitimate came in view, Archie -became solemn. - -He possibly appreciated the feelings of a conscientious clergyman when -about to enter his Church. - -Shakespeare was a great responsibility. - -So was Mrs. Mowbray. - -The performance was not quite over; but before Archie had paid the -hansomeer, the audience was streaming out from every door. - -"Stand here and listen to what the people are saying." whispered Archie. -"I often do it. It is only in this way that you can learn how much -appreciation for Shakespeare still remains in England." - -He took up his position with Harold at the foot of the splendid -staircase of the theatre, where the people chatted together while -waiting for their carriages. - -With scarcely an exception, the remarks had a hearing upon the -performance of "Cymbeline." Only two ladies confined their criticisms to -their respective medical advisers. - -Of the others, one man said that Mrs. Mowbray bore a striking -resemblance to her photographs. - -A second said that she was the most beautiful woman in England. - -A third said that she knocked sparks out of Polly Floss in the same line -of business. (Polly Floss was the leading exponent of burlesque). - -One woman said that Mrs. Mowbray was most picturesquely dressed. - -A second said that she was most picturesquely undressed. - -A third wondered if Liberty had got the exact tint of the robe that Mrs. -Mowbray had worn in the second act. - -"And yet some people say that there's no appreciation of Shakespeare in -England!" said Archie, as he led Harold round the stalls, over which -the attendants were spreading covers, and on to Mrs. Mowbray's private -rooms. - -"From the crowds that went out by every door, I judge that the theatre -is making money, at any rate; and I suppose that's the most practical -test of appreciation," said Harold. - -"Oh, they don't all pay," said Archie. "That's a feature of theatrical -management that it takes an outsider some time to understand. Mrs. -Mowbray should understand it pretty well by this time, so should her -business manager. I'm just getting to understand it." - -"You mean to say that the people are allowed to come in without paying?" - -"It amounts to that in the long run--literally the long run--of the -piece, I believe. Upon my soul, there are some people who fancy that -a chap runs a show as a sort of free entertainment for the public. The -dramatic critics seem to fancy that a chap produces a play, simply in -order to give them an opportunity of showing off their own cleverness -in slating it. It seems that a writer-chap can't show his cleverness in -praising a piece, but only in slanging it." - -"I think that I'd try and make people pay for their seats." - -"I used always to pay for mine in the old days--but then, I was always -squandering my money." - -"I have always paid for mine." - -"The manager says that if you asked people to pay, they'd be mortally -offended and never enter the theatre again, and where would you be -then?" - -"Where, indeed?" said Harold. "I expect your manager must know his -business thoroughly." - -"He does. It requires tact to get people to come to see Shakespeare," -said Archie. "But a chap can't build a monument for himself without -paying for it." - -"It would be ridiculous to expect it," said Harold. - -Pushing aside a magnificent piece of heavy drapery, Archie brought his -friend into a passage illuminated by the electric light; and knocking at -a door at the farther end, he was admitted by Mrs. Mowbray's maid, into -a prettily-furnished sitting-room and into the presence of Mrs. Mowbray, -who was sitting robed in something very exquisite and cloud-like--not -exactly a peignoir but something that suggested a peignoir. - -She was like a picture by Romney. If one could imagine all the charm -of all the pictures of Emma Hamilton (_née_ Lyon) which Romney painted, -meeting harmoniously in another creature, one would come within -reasonable distance of seeing Mrs. Mowbray, as Harold saw her when he -entered the room. - -Even with the disadvantage of the exaggerated colour and the -over-emphasized eye-lashes necessary for the searching illumination of -the footlights, she was very lovely, Harold acknowledged. - -But all the loveliness of Mrs. Mowbray produced but a trifling effect -compared to that produced by her charm of manner. She was the most -natural woman ever known. - -The position of the natural man has been defined by an eminent -authority. But who shall define the position of the natural woman? - -It was Mrs. Mowbray's perfect simplicity, especially when talking to -men--as a matter of fact she preferred talking to men rather than to -women--that made her seem so lovely--nay, that made a man feel that it -was good for him to be in her presence. She was devoid of the smallest -trace of affectation. She seemed the embodiment of truth. She never -smiled for the sake of conventionality. But when she did smile, just -as Harold entered the room, her head turning round so that her face -was looking over her shoulder, she had all the spiritual beauty of the -loveliest picture ever painted by Greuze, consequently the loveliest -picture ever painted by the hand of man. - -And yet she was so very human. - -An Algy and an Eddy were already in the room--the first was a Marquis, -the second was the eldest son of a duke. Both were handsome lads, of -quiet manners, and both were in the Household Cavalry. Mrs. Mowbray -liked to be surrounded by the youngest of men. - -Harold had been acquainted with her long before she had become an -actress. He had not had an opportunity of meeting her since; but he -found that she remembered him very well. - -She had heard of his father, she said, looking at him in a way that did -not in the least suggest a picture by Greuze. - -When people referred to his father they did not usually assume a look -of innocence. Most of them would have had difficulty in assuming such a -look under any circumstances. - -"My father is frequently heard of," said Harold. - -"And your father's son also," said Mrs. Mowbray. "What a freak of Lady -Innisfail's! She lured you all across to Ireland. I heard so much. And -what came of it, after all?" - -"Acute admiration for the allurements of Lady Innisfail in my case, and -a touch of acute rheumatism in my father's case," said Harold. - -"Neither will be fatal to the sufferers," said Mrs. Mowbray--"or to Lady -Innisfail, for that matter," she added. - -"I should say not," remarked Algy. "We all admire Lady Innisfail." - -"Few cases of acute admiration of Lady Innisfail have proved fatal, so -far as I can hear, Lord Brackenthorpe," said Mrs. Mowbray. "Young mem -have suffered from it and have become exemplary husbands and parents." - -"And if they don't live happy, that we may," said Archie. - -"That's the end of the whole matter," said. Harold. - -"That's the end of the orthodox fairy tale," said Mrs. Mowbray. "Was -your visit to Ireland a fairy story, Mr. Wynne?" - -Harold wondered how much this woman knew of the details of his visit -to Ireland. Before he-could think of an answer in the same strain, Mrs. -Mowbray had risen from the little gilt sofa, and had taken a step or two -toward her dressing-room. The look she tossed to Harold, when she turned -round with her fingers on the handle of the door, was a marvellous one. - -Had it been attempted by any other woman, it would have provoked -derision on the part of the average man--certainly on the part of Harold -Wynne. But, coming from Mrs. Mowbray, it conveyed--well, all that she -meant it to convey. It was not merely fascinating, it was fascination -itself. - -It was such a look as this, he felt--but nearly a year had passed before -he had thought of the parallel--that Venus had cast at Paris upon a -momentous occasion. It was the glance of Venus Victrix. It made a man -think--a year or so afterwards--of Ahola and Aholibah, of Ashtoreth, of -Cleopatra, of Faustina, of Iseult, of Rosamond. - -And yet the momentary expression of her features was as simple and as -natural as that worn by one of Greuze's girls. - -"She'll not be more than ten minutes," said - -Archie. "I don't know how she manages to dress herself in the time." - -He did not exaggerate. Mrs. Mowbray returned in ten minutes, with no -trace of paint upon her face, wearing a robe that seemed to surround her -with fleecy clouds. The garment was not much more than an atmosphere--it -was a good deal less substantial than the atmosphere of London in -December or that of Sheffield in June. - -"We shall have the pleasantest of suppers," she said, "and the -pleasantest of chats. I understand that Mr. Wynne has solved the Irish -problem." - -"And what is the solution, Mrs. Mowbray?" said Lord Brackenthorpe. - -"The solution--ah--'a gray eye or so'," said Mrs. Mowbray. - -The little Mercutio swagger with which she gave point to the words, was -better than anything she had done on the stage. - -"And now, Mr. Wynne, you must lead the way with me to our little -supper-room," said she, before the laugh, in which everyone joined, at -the pretty bit of comedy, had ceased. - -Harold gave her his arm. - -When at the point of entering the room--it was daintily furnished with -old English oak and old English silver--Mrs. Mowbray said, in the most -casual way possible, "I hope you will tell me all that may be told about -that charming White Lady of the Cave. How amusing it must have been to -watch the chagrin of Lord Fotheringay, when Mr. Airey gave him to -understand that he meant to make love to that young person with the -wonderful eyes." - -"It was intensely amusing, indeed," said Harold, who had become prepared -for anything that Mrs. Mowbray might say. - -"Yes, you must have been amused; for, of course, you knew that Mr. Airey -was not in earnest--that he had simply been told off by Miss Craven to -amuse himself with the young person, in order to induce her to take her -beautiful eyes off--off--someone else, and to turn them admiringly upon -Mr. Airey." - -"That was the most amusing part of the comedy, of course," said Harold. - -"What fools some girls are!" laughed Mrs. Mowbray. It was well known -that she disliked the society of women. - -"It's a wise provision of nature that the fools should be the girls." - -"Oh, I have known a fool or two among men," said Mrs. Mowbray, with -another laugh. - -"Have known--did you say _have known?_" said Harold. - -"Any girl who has lived in this world of ours for a quarter of a -century, should have seen enough to make her aware of the fact that the -best way to set about increasing the passion of, let us say, the average -man--" - -"No, the average man is passionless." - -"Well, the passion of whatever man you please--for a young woman whom he -loves, or fancies he loves--it's all the same in the end--is to induce -him to believe that several other men are also in love with her." - -"That is one of the rudiments of a science of which you are the leading -exponent," said Harold. - -"And yet Miss Craven was foolish enough to fancy that the man of whom -she was thinking, would give himself up to think of her so soon as he -believed that Mr. Airey was in love with her rival! Ah, here are our -lentils and pulse. How good it is of you to imperil your digestions by -taking supper with me, when only a few hours can have passed since you -dined." - -"Digestion is not an immortal soul," said Harold, "and I believe that -immortal souls have been imperilled before now, for the sake of taking -supper with the most beautiful woman in the world." - -"Have you ever heard a woman say that I am beautiful?" she asked. - -"Never," said Harold. "That is the one sin which a woman never pardons -in another." - -"You do not know women--" with a little pitying smile. "A woman will -forgive a woman for being more beautiful than herself--for being less -virtuous than herself, but never for being better-dressed than herself." - -"For how many of the three sins do you ask forgiveness of woman--two or -three?" said Harold, gently. - -But instead of making an answer, Mrs. Mowbray said something about the -necessity of cherishing a digestion. It was disgraceful, she said, that -bread-and-butter and arithmetic should be forced upon a school boy--that -such magnificent powers of digestion as he possessed should not be -utilized ta the uttermost. - -Lord Brackenthorpe said he knew a clever artist chap, who had drawn -a sketch of about a thousand people crowding over one another, in an -American hotel, in order to see a boy, who had been overheard asking his -mother what was the meaning of the word dyspepsia. - -Mrs. Mowbray wondered if the melancholy of Hamlet was due to a weak -digestion. - -Harold said he thought it should rather be accepted as evidence that -there was a Schleswig-Holstein question even in Hamlet's day. - -Meantime, the pheasants and sparkling red Burgundy were affording -compensation for the absence of any brilliant talk. - -Then the young men lit their cigarettes. Mrs. Mowbray had never been -known to risk her reputation (for femininity) by letting a cigarette -between her lips; but her femininity was in no way jeopardized--rather -was it accentuated--by her liking to be in the neighbourhood of where -cigarettes were being smoked--that is, when the cigarettes were good and -when the smokers were pleasant young men with titles, or even unpleasant -young men with thousands. - -After the lapse of an hour, a message came regarding Mrs. Mowbray's -brougham. Her guests rose and she looked about for her wrap. - -While Harold Wynne was laying it on her lovely shoulders, she kept -her eyes fixed upon his. Hers were full of intelligence. When he -had carefully fastened the gold clasp just beneath the hollow of her -throat--it required very careful handling--she poised her head to the -extent of perhaps a quarter of an inch to one side, and laughed; then -she moved away from him, but turned her head so that her face was once -more over her shoulder, like the face of the Greuze girl from whom she -had learnt the trick. - -He knew that she wanted him to ask her from whom she had heard the -stories regarding Castle Innisfail and its guests. - -He also knew that the reason she wanted him to ask her this question, -was in order that she might have the delight of refusing to answer him, -while keeping him in the expectancy of receiving an answer. - -Such a delight would, of course, be a malicious one. But he knew that it -would be a thoroughly womanly one, and he knew that Mrs. Mowbray was a -thorough woman. - -Therefore he laughed back at her and did not ask her anything--not even -to take his arm out to her brougham. - -Archie Brown did, and she took his arm, still looking over her shoulder -at Harold. - -It only needed that the lovely, wicked look should vanish in a sentence. - -And it did. - -The full lips parted, and the poise of the head was increased by perhaps -the eighth part of an inch. - -"'A gray eye or so,'" she murmured. - -Her laughter rang down the corridor. - -"And the best of it all is, that no one can say a word against her -character," said Archie. - -This was the conclusion of his rhapsody in the hansom, in which he and -Harold were driving down Piccadilly--a rhapsody upon the beauty, the -genius, and the expensiveness of Mrs. Mowbray. - -Harold was silent. The truth was that he was thinking about something -far apart from Mrs. Mowbray, her beauty, her doubtful genius, and her -undoubted power of spending money. - -"What do you say?" said Archie. "Great Godfrey! you don't mean to say -that you've heard a word breathed against her character?" - -"On the contrary," said Harold, "I've always heard it asserted that Mrs. -Mowbray is the best dressed woman in London." - -"Give me your hand, old chap; I knew that I could trust you to do her -justice," cried Archie. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII.--ON BLESSING OR DOOM. - -EVEN before he slept, Harold Wynne found that he had a good many -matters to think about, in addition to the exquisitely natural poises of -Mrs. Mowbray's shapely head. - -It was apparent to him that Mrs. Mowbray had somehow obtained a -circumstantial account of the appearance of Beatrice Avon at the Irish -Castle, and of the effect that had been produced, in more than one -direction, by her appearance. - -But the most important information that he had derived from Mrs. Mowbray -was that which had reference to the attitude of Edmund Airey toward -Beatrice. - -Undoubtedly, Mrs. Mowbray had, by some means, come to be possessed of -the truth regarding the apparent fascination which Beatrice had for -Edmund Airey. It was a trick--it was the result of a conspiracy between -Helen Craven and Edmund, in order that he, Harold, should be prevented -from even telling Beatrice that he loved her. Helen had felt certain -that Beatrice, when she fancied--poor girl!--that she had produced so -extraordinary an impression upon the wealthy and distinguished man, -would be likely to treat the poor and undistinguished man, whose name -was Harold Wynne, in such a way as would prevent him from ever telling -her that he loved her! - -And Edmund had not hesitated to play the part which Helen had assigned -to him! For more than a moment did Harold feel that his friend had -behaved in a grossly dishonourable way. But he knew that his friend, -if taxed with behaving dishonourably, would be ready to prove--if he -thought it necessary--that, so far from acting dishonourably, he had -shown himself to be Harold's best friend, by doing his best to prevent -Harold from asking a penniless girl to be his wife. Oh, yes, Mr. -Edmund Airey would have no trouble in showing, to the satisfaction of -a considerable number of people--perhaps, even to his own -satisfaction--that he was acting the part of a truly conscientious; -and, perhaps, a self-sacrificing friend, by adopting Helen Craven's -suggestion. - -Harold felt very bitter toward his friend Edmund Airey; though it was -unreasonable for him to do so; for had not he come to precisely the same -conclusion as his friend in respect of Beatrice, this conclusion being, -of course, that nothing but unhappiness could be the result of his -loving Beatrice, and of his asking Beatrice to love him? - -If Edmund Airey had succeeded in preventing him from carrying out his -designs, Harold would be saved from the necessity of having with -Beatrice that melancholy interview to which he was looking forward; -therefore it was unreasonable for him to entertain any feeling of -bitterness toward Edmund. - -But for all that, he felt very bitterly toward Edmund--a fact which -shows that, in some men as well as in all women, logic is subordinate to -feeling. - -It was also far from logical on his part to begin to think, only after -he had accused his friend of dishonourable conduct, of the source whence -the evidence upon which he had founded his accusation, was derived. - -How had Mrs. Mowbray come to hear how Edmund Airey had plotted with -Helen Craven, he asked himself. He began to wonder how she could have -heard about the gray eyes of Beatrice, to which she had alluded more -than once, with such excellent effect from the standpoint of art. From -whom could she have heard so much? - -She certainly did not hear it from Mr. Durdan, even if she was -acquainted with him, which was doubtful; for Mr. Durdan was discreet. -Besides, Mr. Durdan was rarely eloquent on any social subject. He was -the sort of man who makes a tour on the Continent and returns to tell -you of nothing except a flea at Bellaggio. - -Was it possible that some of the fishing men had been taking notes -unknown to any of their fellow guests, for the benefit of Mrs. Mowbray? - -Harold did not think so. - -After some time he ceased to trouble himself with these vain -speculations. The fact--he believed it to be a fact--remained the same: -someone who had been at Castle Innisfail had given Mrs. Mowbray a highly -circumstantial account of certain occurrences in the neighbourhood of -the Castle; and if Mrs. Mowbray had received such an account, why might -not anyone else be equally favoured? - -Thus it was that he strayed into new regions of speculation, where -he could not possibly find any profit. What did it matter to him if -everyone in London knew that Edmund Airey had plotted with Helen Craven, -to prevent an impecunious man from marrying a penniless girl? All that -remained for him to do was to go to the girl, and tell her that he -had made a mistake--that he would be asking her to make too great a -sacrifice, were he to hold her to her promise to love him and him only. - -It was somewhat curious that his resolution in this matter should be -strengthened by the fact of his having learned that Edmund Airey had not -been in earnest, in what was generally regarded at Castle Innisfail as -an attitude of serious, and not merely autumn, love-making, in respect -of Beatrice. - -He did not feel at all annoyed to learn that, if he were to withdraw -from the side of Beatrice, his place would not be taken by that wealthy -and distinguished man, Edmund Airey. When he had at first made up his -mind to go to Beatrice and ask her to forget that he had ever told her -that he loved her, he had had an uneasy feeling that his friend might -show even a greater interest than he had done on the evening of the -_tableaux_ at the Castle, in the future movements of Beatrice. - -At that time his resolution had not been overwhelming in its force. But -now that Mrs. Mowbray had made that strange communication--it almost -amounted to a revelation--to him, he felt almost impatient at the delay -that he knew there must be before he could see the girl and make his -confession to her. - -He had two more days to think over his resolution, in addition to his -sleepless night after receiving Mrs. Mowbray's confidences; and the -result of keeping his thoughts in the one direction was, that at last he -had almost convinced himself that he was glad that the opportunity had -arrived for him to present himself to the girl, in order to tell her -that he would no longer stand in the way of her loving someone else. - -When he found himself in her presence, however, his convictions on this -particular point were scarcely so strong as they might have been. - -She was sitting in front of the fire in the great drawing-room that -retained all the original decorations of the Brothers Adam, and she was -wearing something beautifully simple--something creamy, with old lace. -The furniture of the room also belonged to the period of the Adams, and -on the walls were a number of coloured engravings by Bartolozzi after -Cipriani and Angelica Kauffmann. - -She was in his arms in a moment. She gave herself to him as naturally -and as artlessly as though she were a child; and he held her close to -him, looking down upon her face without uttering a word--kissing her -mouth conscientiously, her shell-pink cheeks earnestly, her forehead -scrupulously, and her chin playfully. - -This was how he opened the interview which he had arranged to part them -for ever. - -Then they both drew a long breath simultaneously, and both laughed in -unison. - -Then he held her away from him for a few seconds, looking upon her -exquisite face. Again he kissed her--but this time solemnly and with -something of the father about the action. - -"At last--at last," he said. - -"At last," she murmured in reply. - -"It seems to me that I have never seen you before," said he. "You seem -to be a different person altogether. I do not remember anything of your -face, except your eyes--no, by heavens! your eyes are different also." - -"It was dark as midnight in the depths of that seal-cave," she -whispered. - -"You mean that--ah, yes, my beloved! If I could have seen your eyes at -that moment I know I should have found them full of the light that I -now see in their depths. You remember what I said to you on the morning -after your arrival at the Castle? Your eyes meant everything to me -then--I knew it--beatitude or doom." - -"And you know now what they meant?" - -He looked at her earnestly and passionately for some moments. Then his -hands dropped suddenly as though they were the hands of a man who had -died in a moment--his hands dropped, he turned away his face. - -"God knows, God knows," he said, with what seemed like a moan. - -"Yes," she said; "God knows, and you know as well as God that in my -heart there is nothing that does not mean love for you. Does love mean -blessing or doom?" - -"God knows," said he again. "Your love should mean to me the most -blessed thing on earth." - -"And your love makes me most blessed among women," said she. - -This exchange of thought could scarcely be said to make easier the task -which he had set himself to do before nightfall. - -He seemed to become aware of this, for he went to the high mantelpiece, -and stood with his hands upon it, earnestly examining the carved marble -frieze, cream-tinted with age, which was on a level with his face. - -She knew, however, that he was not examining the carving from the -standpoint of a critic; and she waited silently for whatever was coming. - -It came when he ceased his scrutiny of the classical figures in high -relief, that appeared upon the marble slab. - -"Beatrice, my beloved," said he, and her face brightened. Nothing that -commenced with the assumption that she was his beloved could be very -bad. "I have been in great trouble--I am in great trouble still." - -She was by his side in a moment, and had taken one of his hands in hers. -She held it, looking up to his face with her eyes full of sympathy and -concern. - -"My dearest," he said, "you are all that is good and gracious. We must -part, and for ever." - -She laughed, still looking at his face. There really was something -laughable in the sequence of his words. But her laugh did not make his -task any easier. - -"When I told you that I loved you, Beatrice, I told you the truth," said -he. "If I were to tell you anything else now it would be a falsehood. -But I had no right ever to speak to you of love. I am absolutely -penniless." - -"That is no confession," said she. "I knew all along that you were -dependent upon your father for everything. I felt for you--so did Mr. -Airey." - -"Mr. Airey?" said he. "Mr. Airey mentioned to you that I was a beggar?" - -"Oh, he didn't say that. He only said--what did he say?--something about -the affairs of the world being very badly arranged, otherwise you should -have thousands--oh, he said he felt for you with all his heart." - -"'With all his appreciation of the value of an opportunity,' he should -have said. Never mind Edmund Airey. You, yourself, can see, Beatrice, -how impossible it would be for any man with the least sense of honour, -situated as I am, to ask you to wait--to wait for something indefinite." - -"You did not ask me to wait for anything. You did not ask me to wait -for your love--you gave it to me at once. There is nothing indefinite in -love." - -"My Beatrice, you cannot think that I would ask you for your love -without hoping to marry you?" - -"Then let us be married to-morrow." - -She did not laugh, speaking the words. He could see that she would not -hesitate to marry him at any moment. - -"Would to heaven that we could be, my dearest! But could there be -anything more cruel than for a penniless man, such as I am, to ask a -girl, such as you are, to marry him?" - -"I cannot see where the cruelty would be. People have been very happy -together before now, though they have had very little money between -them." - -"My dear Beatrice, you were not meant to pass your life in squalid -lodgings, with none of the refinements of life around you; and I--well, -I have known what roughing it means; I would face the worst alone; but -I am not selfish enough to seek to drag you down to my level--to ask you -to face hardship for my sake." - -"But I----" - -"Do not say anything, darling: anything that you may say will only make -it the harder to part. I can do it, Beatrice; I am strong enough to say -good-bye." - -"Then say it, Harold." - -She stood facing him, with her wonderful eyes looking steadily into his. -The message that they conveyed to him was such as he could not fail to -read aright. He knew that if he had said goodbye, he would never have a -chance of looking into those eyes again. - -And yet he made the attempt to speak--to say the word that she had -challenged him to utter. His lips were parted for more than a moment. -He suddenly dropped her hand--he had been holding it all the time--and -turned away from her with a passionate gesture. - -"I cannot say it--God help me! I cannot say good-bye," he cried. - -He had flung himself into a sofa and had buried his face in his hands. - -For a short time he had actually felt that he was desirous to part from -her. For some minutes he had been quite sincere. The force of the words -he had made use of to show Beatrice how absolutely necessary it was that -they should part, had not been felt by her; those words had, however, -affected him. He had felt--for the first time, in spite of his previous -self-communing--that he must say good-bye to her, but he found that he -was too weak to say it. - -He felt a hand upon his shoulder. He could feel her gracious presence -near to him, before her voice came. - -"Harold," she said, "if you had said it, I should never have had an -hour's happiness in my life. I would never have seen you again. I felt -that all the happiness of my life was dependent upon your refraining -from speaking those words. Cannot you see, my love, that the matter -has passed out of our hands--that it is out of our power to part now? -Harold, cannot you see that, let it be for good or evil--for heaven or -doom--we must be together? Whatever is before us, we are not two but -one--our lives are joined beyond the power of separation. I am yours; -you are mine." - -He sprang to his feet. He saw that tears were in her eyes. "Let it be -so," he cried. "In God's name let it be so. Whatever may happen, no -suggestion of parting shall come from me. We stand together, and for -ever, Beatrice." - -"For ever and ever," she said. - -That was how their interview came to a close. - -Did he know when he had set out for her home that this would be the -close of their interview--this clasping of the hands--this meeting of -the lips? - -Perhaps he did not. But one thing is certain: if it had not had this -ending, he would have been greatly mortified. - -His vanity would have received a great blow. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV.--ON THE MESSAGE OF THE LILY. - -WALKING Westward to his rooms, he enjoyed once again the same feeling -of exultation, which had been his on the evening of the return from the -seal-hunt. He felt that she was wholly his. - -He had done all that was in his power to show her how very much better -it would be for her to part from him and never to see him again--how -much better it would be for her to marry the wealthy and distinguished -man who had, out of the goodness of his heart, expressed to her a deep -sympathy for his, Harold's, unfortunate condition of dependence upon a -wicked father. But he had not been able to convince her that it would be -to her advantage to adopt this course. - -Yet, instead of feeling deeply humiliated by reason of the failure of -his arguments, he felt exultant. - -"She is mine--she is mine!" he cried, when he found himself alone in his -room in St. James's. "There is none like her, and she is mine!" - -He reflected for a long time upon her beauty. He thought of Mrs. -Mowbray, and he smiled, knowing that Beatrice was far lovelier, though -her loveliness was not of the same impressive type. One did not seem -to breathe near Beatrice that atmosphere heavy with the scent of roses, -which Mrs. Mowbray carried with her for the intoxication of the nations. -Still, the beauty of Beatrice was not a tame thing. It had stirred him, -and it had stirred other men. - -Yes, it had stirred Edmund Airey--he felt certain of it, although he did -not doubt the truth of Mrs. Mowbray's communication on this subject. - -Even though Edmund Airey had been in a plot with Helen, still Harold -felt that he had been stirred by the beauty of Beatrice. - -He thought over this point for some time, and the conclusion that he -came to was, that he could easily find out if Edmund meant to play no -more important a _rôle_ than that of partner in Helen Craven's plot. It -was perfectly clear, that if Edmund had merely acted as he had done at -the suggestion of Helen, he would cease to take any further interest in -Beatrice, unless it was his intention to devote his life to carrying out -the plot. - -In the course of some weeks, he would learn all that could be known on -this point; but meantime his condition was a peculiar one. - -He would have felt mortified had he been certain that Edmund Airey had -not really been stirred by the charm of Beatrice; but he would have been -somewhat uneasy had he felt certain that Edmund was deeply in love -with her. He trusted her implicitly--he felt certain of himself in this -respect. Had he not a right to trust her, after the way in which she -had spoken to him--the way in which she had given herself up to him? But -then he felt that he had made use of such definite arguments to her, in -pointing out the advisability of their parting, as caused it to be -quite possible that she might begin to perceive--after a year or two of -waiting--that there was some value in those arguments of his, after all. - -By the time that he had dined with some people, who had sent him a card -on his return to London, and had subjected himself to the mortifying -influence of some unfamiliar _entrées_, and a conversation with a woman -who was the survivor of the wreck of spiritualism in London, he was no -longer in the exultant mood of the afternoon. - -"A Fool's Paradise--a Fool's Paradise!" he murmured, as he sat in an -easy-chair, and gazed into his flickering fire. - -It had been very glorious to think that he was beloved by that exquisite -girl--to think of the kisses of her mouth; but whither was the love -leading him? - -His father's words could not be forgotten--those words which he had -spoken from beneath the eiderdown of his bed at Castle Innisfail; and -Harold knew that, should he marry Beatrice, his father would certainly -carry out his threat of cutting off his allowance. - -Thus it was that he sat in his chair feeling that, even though Beatrice -had refused to be separated from him, still they were as completely -parted by circumstances as if she had immediately acknowledged the force -of his arguments, and had accepted, his invitation to say good-bye for -ever. - -Thus it was that he cried, "A Fool's Paradise--a Fool's Paradise!" as he -thought over the whole matter. - -What were the exact elements of the Paradise in which his exclamation -suggested that he was living, he might have had some difficulty in -defining. - -But then the site of the original Paradise is still a matter of -speculation. - -The next day he went to take lunch with her and her father--he had -promised to do so before he had left her, when they had had their -interview. - -It so happened, however, that he only partook of lunch with Beatrice; -for Mr. Avon had, he learned, been compelled to go to Dublin for some -days, to satisfy himself regarding a document which was in a library in -that city. - -Harold did not grumble at the prospect of a long afternoon by her side; -only he could not help feeling that the _ménage_ of the Avon family -was one of the most remarkable that he had ever known. The historical -investigations of Mr. Avon did not seem to induce him to take a -conventional view of his obligations, as the father of an extremely -handsome girl--assuming that he was aware of the fact of her beauty--or -a pessimistic view of modern society. He seemed to allow Beatrice to be -in every way her own mistress--to receive whatever visitors she pleased; -and to lay no narrow-minded prohibition upon such an incident as -lunching _tête-à-tête_ with a young man, or perhaps--but Harold had no -knowledge of such a case--an old man. - -He wondered if the historian had ever been remonstrated with on this -subject, by such persons as had not had the advantage of scrutinizing -humanity through the medium of state papers. - -Harold thought that, on the whole, he had no reason to take exception -to the liberality of Mr. Avon's system. He reflected that it was to this -system he was indebted for what promised to be an extremely agreeable -afternoon. - -What he did not reflect upon, however, was, that he was indebted to Mr. -Avon's peculiarities--some people would undoubtedly call the system a -peculiar one--for a charmingly irresponsible relationship toward the -historian's daughter. He did not reflect upon the fact, that if the girl -had had the Average Father, or the Vigilant Mother, to say nothing -of the Athletic Brother, he would not have been able, without some -explanation, to visit her, and, on the strength of promising to love -her, to kiss her, as he had now repeatedly done, on the mouth--or even -on the forehead, which is somewhat less satisfying. Everyone knows that -the Vigilant Mother would, by the application of a maternal thumb-screw -which she always carries attached to her bunch of keys, have -extorted from Beatrice a full confession as to the incidents of the -seal-hunt--all except the hunting of the seals--and that this confession -would have led to a visit to the study of the Average Father, in one -corner of which reposes the rack, in working order, for the reception of -the suitor. Everyone knows so much, and also that the alternative of the -paternal rack, is the fist of the Athletic Brother. - -But Mr. Harold Wynne did not seem to reflect upon these points, when he -heard the lightly uttered excuses of Beatrice for her father's absence, -as they seated themselves at the table in the large dining-room. - -His practised eye made him aware of the fact that Beatrice understood -what he considered to be the essentials of a _recherché_ lunch: a lunch -appeals to the eye; but wine appeals to other senses than the sense of -seeing; and the result of his judgment was to convince him that, if -Mr. Avon was as careless in the affairs of the cellar as he was in the -affairs of the drawing-room, he was to be congratulated upon having -about him someone who understood still hock at any rate. - -In the drawing-room, she busied herself in arranging, in Wedgwood bowls, -some flowers that he had brought her--trifles of sprawling orchids, -Eucharis lilies, and a fairy tropical fern or two, all of which are -quite easy to be procured in London in October for the expenditure of -a few sovereigns. The picture that she made bending over her bowls was -inexpressibly lovely. He sat silent, watching her, while she prattled -away with the artless high spirits of a child. She was surely the -loveliest thing yet made by God. He thought of what the pious old writer -had said about a particular fruit, and he paraphrased it in his own -mind, saying, that doubtless God could make a lovelier thing, but -certainly He had never made it. - -"I am delighted to have such sweet flowers now," she cried, as she -observed, with critical eyes, the effect of a bit of flaming crimson--an -orchid suggesting a flamingo in flight--over the turquoise edge of -the bowl. "I am delighted, because I have a prospect of other visitors -beside yourself, my lord." - -"Other visitors?" said he. He wondered if he might venture to suggest -to her the inadvisability of entertaining other visitors during her -father's absence. - -"Other visitors indeed," she replied. "I did not tell you yesterday all -that I had to tell. I forget now what we talked about yesterday. How did -we put in our time?" - -She looked up with laughing eyes across the bowl of flowers, that she -held up to her face. - -"I don't forget--I shall never forget," said he, in a low voice. - -"You must never forget," said she. "But to my visitors--who are they, do -you fancy? Don't try to guess, for if you should succeed I should be too -mortified to be able to tell you that you were right. I will tell you -now. Three days ago--while we were still on the Continent--Miss Craven -called. She promised faithfully to do so at Castle Innisfail--indeed, -she suggested doing so herself; and I found her card waiting for me on -my return with a few words scrawled on it, to tell me that she would -return in some days. I don't think that anything should be in the same -bowl with a Eucharis lily--even the Venus-hair fern looks out of place -beside it." - -She had strayed from her firebrand orchids to the white lilies. - -"You are quite right, indeed," said he. "A lily and you stand alone--you -make everything else in the world seem tawdry." - -"That is not the message of the lily," said she. "But supposing that -Miss Craven should call upon me to-day--would you be glad of such a -third person to our party?" - -"I should kill her, if she were a thousand times Helen Craven," said he, -with a laugh. "But she is only one visitor; who are the others?" - -"Oh, there is only one other, and he is interesting to me only," she -cried. "Yes, I found Mr. Airey's card also waiting for me, and on it -were scrawled almost the very words that were on Miss Craven's card, so -that he may be here at any moment." Harold did not say a word. He sat -watching her as her hands mingled with their sister-lilies on the table. -Something cold seemed to have clasped his heart--a cold doubt that made -him dumb. - -"Yes," she continued; "Mr. Airey asked me one night at Castle Innisfail -to let him know where we should go after leaving Ireland." - -"Yes," said he, in a slow way; "I heard him make that request of you." - -"You heard him? But you were taking part in the _tableaux_ in the hall." - -"I had left the platform and had strayed round to one of the doors. You -told him where you were going?" - -"I told him that we should be in this house in October, and he said -that he would make it a point to be in town early in October, though -Parliament was not to sit until the middle of January. He has kept his -word." - -"Yes, he has kept his word." - -Harold felt that cold hand tightening upon his heart. "I think that he -was interested in me," continued the girl. "I know that I was interested -in him. He knows so much about everything. He is a close friend of -yours, is he not?" - -"Yes," said Harold, without much enthusiasm. "Yes, he was a close friend -of mine. You see, I had my heart set upon going into Parliament--upon so -humble an object may one's aspirations be centred--and Edmund Airey was -my adviser." - -"And what did he advise you to do?" she asked. - -"He advised me to--well, to go into Parliament." He could not bring -himself to tell her what form exactly Edmund Airey's advice had assumed. - -"I am sure that his advice was good," said she. "I think that I would go -to him if I stood in need of advice." - -"Would you, indeed, Beatrice?" said he. He was at the point of telling -her all that he had learned from Mrs. Mowbray; he only restrained -himself by an effort. - -"I believe that he is both clever and wise." - -"The two do not always go together, certainly." - -"They do not. But Mr. Airey is, I think, both." - -"He has been better than either. To be successful is better than to be -either wise or clever. Mr. Airey has been successful. He will get an -Under-Secretaryship if the Government survives the want of confidence of -the Opposition." - -"And you will go into Parliament, Harold?" - -He shook his head. - -"That aspiration is past," said he; "I have chosen the more excellent -career. Now, tell me something of your aspirations, my beloved." - -"To see you daily--to be near you--to--" - -But the enumeration of the terms of her aspirations is unnecessary. - -How was it that some hours after this, Harold Wynne left the house with -that cold feeling still at his heart? - -Was it a pang of doubt in regard to Beatrice, or a pang of jealousy in -regard to Edmund Airey? - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV.--ON THE HOME. - -HAROLD WYNNE remembered how he had made up his mind to judge whether -or not Edmund Airey had been simply playing, in respect of Beatrice, the -part which, according to Mrs. Mowbray's story, had been assigned to him -by Helen Craven. He had made up his mind that unless Edmund Airey -meant to go much further than--according to Mrs. Mowbray's -communication--Helen Craven could reasonably ask him to go, he would not -take the trouble to see Beatrice again. - -Helen could scarcely expect him to give up his life to the furtherance -of her interests with another man. - -Well, he had found that Edmund, so far from showing any intention of -abandoning the position--it has already been defined--which he had -assumed toward Beatrice, had shown, in the plainest possible way, that -he did not mean to lose sight of her. - -And for such a man as he was, to mean so much, meant a great deal, -Harold was forced to acknowledge. - -He spent the remainder of the day which had begun so auspiciously, -wondering if his friend, Edmund Airey, meant to tell Beatrice some day -that he loved her, and, what was very much more important, that he was -anxious to marry her. - -And then that unworthy doubt of which he had become conscious, returned -to him. - -If Edmund Airey, who, at first, had merely been attracted to Beatrice -with a view of furthering what Helen Craven believed to be her -interests, had come to regard her differently--as he, Harold, assumed -that he had--might it not be possible, he asked himself, that Beatrice, -who had just admitted that she had always had some sort of admiration -for Edmund Airey, would------- - -"Never, never, never!" he cried. "She is all that is good and true and -faithful. She is mine--altogether mine!" - -But his mind was in such a condition that the thought which he had tried -to crush down, remained with him to torture him. - -It should not have been a torturing thought, considering that, a few -days before, he had made up his mind that it was his duty to relinquish -Beatrice--to go to her and bid her good-bye for ever. To be sure, he -had failed to realize this honourable intention of his; but what was -honourable at one time was honourable at another, so that the thought -of something occurring to bring about the separation for which he had -professed to be so anxious, should not have been a great trouble to -him--it should have been just the contrary. - -The next day found him in the same condition. The thought occurred -to him, "What if, at this very moment, Edmund Airey is with her, -endeavouring to increase that admiration which he must know Beatrice -entertains for him?" The thought was not a consoling one. Its effect was -to make him think very severely of the laxity of Mr. Avon's _ménage_, -which would make possible such an interview as he had just imagined. -It was a terrible thing, he thought, for a father to show so utter a -disregard for his responsibilities as to----- - -But here he reflected upon something that had occurred to him in -connection with _tête-à-tête_ interviews, and he thought it better not -to pursue his course of indignant denunciation of the eminent historian. - -He put on an overcoat and went to pay a visit to his sister, who, he had -heard the previous day, was in town for a short time. In another week -she would be entertaining a large party for the pheasant-shooting at her -country-house in Brackenshire, and Harold was to be her guest as well -as Edmund Airey and Helen Craven. It was to this visit that Lord -Fotheringay had alluded in the course of his chamber interview with his -son at Castle Innisfail. - -Harold had now made up his mind that he would not be able to join his -sister's party, and he thought it better to tell her so than to write to -her to this effect. - -Mrs. Lampson was not at home, the servant said, when he had knocked at -the door of the house in Eaton Square. A party was expected for lunch, -however, so that she would probably return within half an hour. - -Harold said he would wait for his sister, and went upstairs. - -There was one person already in the drawingroom and that person was Lord -Fotheringay. - -Harold greeted him, and found that he was in an extremely good humour. -He had never been in better health, he declared. He felt, he said, -as young as the best of them--he prudently refrained from defining -them--and he was still of the opinion that the Home--the dear old -English Home--was where true and lasting happiness alone was to be -found; and he meant to try the Principality of Monaco later on; for -November was too awful in any part of Britain. Yes, he had seen the -influence of the Home upon exiles in various parts of the world. Had he -not seen strong men weep like children--like innocent children--at -the sight of an English post-mark--the post-mark of a simple English -village? Why had they wept, he asked his son, with the well-gloved -forefinger of the professional moralist outstretched? - -His son declined to hazard an answer. - -They had wept those tears--those bitter tears--Lord Fotheringay said, -with solemn emphasis, because their thoughts went back to that village -home of theirs--the father, the mother, perhaps a sister--who could -tell? - -"Ah, my boy," he continued, "''Mid pleasures and palaces'--''mid -pleasures and'--by the way, I looked in at the Rivoli Palace last night. -I heard that there was a woman at that place who did a new dance. I saw -it. A new dance! My dear boy, it wasn't new when I saw it first, and -that's--ah, never mind--it's some years ago. I was greatly disappointed -with it. There's nothing indecent in it--I will say that for it--but -there's nothing enlivening. Ah, the old home of burlesque--the old -home--that's what I was talking about--the Home--the sentiment of the -Home--" - -"Of burlesque?" suggested Harold. - -"Of the devil, sir," said his father. "Don't try to be clever; it's -nearly as bad as being insolent. What about that girl--Helen Craven, I -mean? Have you seen her since you came to town? She's here. She'll be at -Ella's next week. Perhaps it will be your last chance. Heavens above! -To think that a pauper like you should need to be urged to marry such a -girl! A girl with two hundred thousand pounds in cash--a girl belonging -to one of the best families in all--in all Birmingham. Harold, don't be -a fool! Such a chance doesn't come every day." - -Just then Mrs Lampson entered the room and with her, her latest -discovery, the Coming Dramatist. - -Mrs Lampson was invariably making discoveries. But they were mostly -discoveries of quartz; they contained a certain proportion of gold, to -be sure; but when it came to the crushing, they did not yield enough of -the precious metal to pay the incidental expenses of the plant for the -working. - -She had discovered poets and poetesses--the latter by the score. She -had discovered at least one Genius in black and white--his genius being -testified by his refusal to work; and she had discovered a pianoforte -Genius--his genius being proved by the dishevelment of his hair. The -man who had the reputation for being the Greatest Living Atheist was a -welcome guest at her house, and the most ridiculous of living socialists -boasted of having dined at her table. - -She was foremost in every philanthropic movement, and wrote articles to -the magazines, lamenting the low tone of modern society in London. - -She also sneered (in private) at Lady Innisfail. Her latest discovery, -the Coming Dramatist, had had, he proudly declared, his plays returned -to him by the best managers in London, and by the one conscientious -manager in the United States--the last mentioned had not prepaid the -postage, he lamented. - -He was a fearful joy to cherish; but Mrs. Lampson listened to his -egotism at lunch, and tried to prevent her other guests from listening -to him. - -They would not understand him, she thought, and she did not make a -mistake in this matter. - -She got rid of him as soon as possible, and once more breathed freely. -He had not disgraced her--that was so much in his favour. The same could -not always be said of her discoveries. - -The Christian Dynamitard was, people said, the only gentleman who had -ever been introduced ta society by Mrs. Lampson. - -When Harold found his sister alone, he explained to her that it would -be impossible for him to join her party at Abbeylands--Mr. Lampson's -Bracken-shire place--and his sister laughed and said she supposed that -he had something better on his hands. He assured her that he had nothing -better, only-- - -"There, there," said she, "I don't want you to invent an excuse. You -would only have met people whom you know." - -"Of course," said Harold, "you're not foolish enough to ask your -discoveries down to shoot pheasants. I should like to see some of -them in a _battue_ with my best enemies. Yes, I'd hire a window, with -pleasure." - -"Didn't he behave well--the Coming Dramatist?" said she, earnestly. "You -cannot say he didn't behave well--at least for a Coming Person." - -"He behaved--wonderfully," said Harold. "Good-bye." - -She followed him to the door of the room--nay, outside. - -"By the bye," said she, in a whisper; "do you know anything of a Miss -Avon?" - -"Miss Avon?" said Harold. "Miss Avon. Why, if she is the daughter of -Julius Anthony Avon, the historian, we met her at Castle Innisfail. Why -do you ask me, Ella?" - -"It is so funny," said she. "Yesterday Mr. Airey called upon me, and -before he left he begged of me to call upon her, and even hinted--he has -got infinite tact--that she would make a charming addition to our party -at Abbeylands." - -"Ah," said Harold. - -"And just now papa has been whispering to me about this same Miss Avon. -He commanded me--papa has no tact--to invite her to join us for a week. -I wonder what that means." - -"What what means?" - -"That--Mr. Airey and papa." - -"Great Heaven! Ella, what should it mean, except that two men, for whom -we have had a nominal respect, have gone over to the majority of fools?" - -"Oh, is that all? I was afraid that--ah, good-bye." - -"Good-bye." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI.--ON THE INFLUENCE OF A MAN OF THE WORLD. - -It was true then--what he had surmised was true! Edmund Airey had shown -himself to be actuated by a stronger impulse than a desire to assist -Helen Craven to realize her hopes--so much appeared perfectly plain to -Harold Wynne, as he strolled back to his rooms. - -He was now convinced that Edmund Airey was serious in his attitude in -respect of Beatrice. At Castle Innisfail he had been ready enough to -play the game with counters, on his side at least, as stakes, but now he -meant to play a serious game. - -Harold recalled what proofs he had already received, to justify his -arriving at this conclusion, and he felt that they were ample--he felt -that this conclusion was the only one possible to be arrived at by -anyone acquainted with all that had come under his notice. - -He was quite astounded to hear from his sister that Edmund Airey had -taken so extreme a step as to beg of her to call upon Beatrice, -and invite her to join the Abbeylands party. Whether or not he had -approached Mrs. Lampson in confidence on this matter, the fact of his -having approached her was, in some degree, compromising to himself, and -no one was better aware of this fact than Edmund Airey. He was not an -eager boy to give way to a passion without counting the cost. There was -no more subtle calculator of costs than Edmund Airey, and Harold knew -it. - -What, then, was left for Harold to infer? - -Nothing, except what he had already inferred. - -What then was left for him to do to checkmate the man who was menacing -him? - -He had lived so long in that world, the centre of which is situated -somewhere about Park Lane, and he had come to believe so thoroughly that -the leading characteristic of this world is worldliness, that he had -lost the capacity to trust anyone implicitly. He was unable to bring -himself to risk everything upon the chance of Beatrice's loving him, in -the face of the worst that might occur. - -Thus it was that the little feeling of distrust which he experienced the -previous day remained with him. It did not increase, but it was there. -Now and again he could feel its cold finger upon his heart, and he knew -that it was there. - -He could not love with that blind, unreasoning, uncalculating love--that -love which knows only heaven and hell, not earth. That perfect love, -which casteth out distrust, was not the love of his world. - -And thus it was that he walked to his rooms, thinking by what means -he could bind that girl to him, so that she should be bound beyond the -possibility of chance, or craft, or worldliness coming between them. - -He had not arrived at any satisfactory conclusion on this subject when -he reached his rooms. - -He was surprised to find waiting for him Mr. Playdell, but he greeted -the man cordially--he had acquired a liking for him, for he perceived -that, with all his eccentricities--all his crude theories that he tried -to vivify by calling them principles, he was still acting faithfully -toward Archie Brown, and was preventing him from squandering hundreds of -pounds where Archie might have squandered thousands. - -"You are naturally surprised to see me, Mr. Wynne," said Playdell. "I -dare say that most men would think that I had taken a liberty in making -an uninvited call like this." - -"I, at any rate, think nothing of the sort, Mr. Playdell," said Harold. - -"I am certain that you do not," said Mr. Play-dell. "I am certain that -you are capable of doing me justice--yes, on some points." - -"I hope that I am, Mr. Playdell." - -"I know that you are, Mr. Wynne. You are not one of those silly persons, -wise in their own conceit, who wink at one another when my name is -mentioned, and suggest that the unfrocked priest is making a very fair -thing out of his young patron." - -"I believe that your influence over him is wholly for good, Mr. -Playdell. If he were to allow you the income of a Bishop instead of -that of a Dean I believe that he would still save money--a great deal of -money--by having you near him." - -"And you are in no way astray, Mr. Wynne. I was prepared for what people -would say when I accepted the situation that Archie offered me, but the -only stipulation that I made was that my accounts were to be audited by -a professional man, and monthly. Thus it is that I protect myself. Every -penny that I receive is accounted for." - -"That is a very wise plan, Mr. Playdell, but--" - -"But it has nothing to do with my coming here to-day? That is what you -are too polite to say. You are right, Mr. Wynne. I have not come here to -talk about myself and my systems, but about our friend Archie. You have -great influence over him." - -"I'm afraid I haven't much. If I had, I wouldn't hesitate to tell him -that he is making an ass of himself." - -"You have come to the point at once, Mr. Wynne." - -Mr. Playdell had risen from his chair and was walking up and down the -room with his head bent. Now he stood opposite to Harold. - -"The point?" said Harold. - -"The point is that he is being robbed right and left through the medium -of the Legitimate Theatre, and a stop must be put to it," said Playdell. - -"And you think that I should make the attempt to put a stop to this -foolishness of his? My dear Mr. Playdell, if I were to suggest to Archie -that he is making an ass of himself over this particular matter, I -should never have another chance of exercising my influence over him for -good or bad. I have always known that Mrs. Mowbray is one of the most -expensive tastes in England. But when the beauty of Mrs. Mowbray is -to be exploited with the beauty of the poetry of Shakespeare, and when -these gems are enclosed in so elaborate a setting as the Legitimate -Theatre--well, I suppose Archie's millions will hold out. There's a deal -of spending in three millions, Mr. Playdell." - -"His millions will hold out," said Mr. Playdell. "And so will he," -laughed Harold. "I have known Mrs. Mowbray for several years, and she -has never ruined any man except her husband, and he is not worth talking -about. She has always liked young men with wealth so enormous that even -her powers of spending money can make no impression on it." - -"Mr. Wynne, you can have no notion what that theatre has cost -Archie--what it is daily costing him. Eight hundred pounds a week -wouldn't cover the net loss of that ridiculous business--that trailing -of Shakespeare in the mire, to gratify the vanity of a woman. I know -what men are when they are very young. If I were to talk to Archie -seriously on this subject, he would laugh at me; if he did not, he would -throw something at me. The result would be _nil_." - -"Unless he was a good shot with a casual missile." - -"Mr. Wynne, he would not listen to me; but he would listen to you--I -know that he would. You could talk to him with all the authority of a -man of the world--a man in Society." - -"Mr. Playdell," said Harold, shaking his head, "if there's no fool like -the old fool, there's no ass like the young ass. Now, I can assure you, -on the authority of a man of the world--you know what such an authority -is worth--that to try and detach Archie from his theatre nonsense just -now by means of a lecture, would be as impossible as to detach a limpet -from a rock by a sermon on--let us say--the flexibility of the marriage -bond." - -"Alas! alas!" said Mr. Playdell. - -"The only way that Archie can be induced to throw over Mrs. Mowbray and -Shakespeare and suchlike follies, is by inducing him to form a stronger -attachment elsewhere." - -"The last state of that man might be worse than the first, Mr. Wynne." - -"Might--yes, it might be, but that is no reason why it should be. The -young ass takes to thistles, because it has never known the enjoyment of -a legitimate pasture." - -"The legitimate pasture is some distance away from the Legitimate -Theatre, Mr. Wynne." - -"I agree with you. Now, the thought has just occurred to me that I might -get Archie brought among decent people, for the first time in his life. -My sister, Mrs. Lampson, is having a party down at her husband's place -in Brackenshire, for the pheasant-shooting. Why shouldn't Archie be one -of the party? There are a number of decent men going, and decent women -also. None of the men will try to get the better of him." - -"And the women will not try to make a fool of him?" - -"I won't promise that--the world can't cease to revolve on its axis -because Archie Brown has a tendency to giddiness." - -Mr. Playdell was grave. Then he said, thoughtfully, "Whatever the women -may be, they can't be of the stamp of Mrs. Mowbray." - -"You may trust my sister for that. You may also trust her to see that -they are less beautiful than Mrs. Mowbray," remarked Harold. - -Mr. Playdell pondered. - -"Pheasant-shooting is expensive in its way," said he. "The preservation -of grouse runs away with a good deal of money also, I am told. Race -horses, it is generally understood, entail considerable outlay. Put -them all together, and you only come within measurable distance of -Mrs. Mowbray and Shakespeare as a pastime--with nothing to show for the -money--absolutely nothing to show for the money." - -"Except Mrs. Mowbray and Shakespeare." - -"Mr. Wynne, I believe that your kind suggestion may be the saving of -that lad," said Playdell. - -"Oh, it's the merest chance," said Harold. "He may grow sick of the -whole business after the first _battue_." - -"He won't. I've known men saved from destruction by scoring a century in -a first-class cricket match: they gave themselves up to cricket, to the -exclusion of other games less healthy. If Archie takes kindly to the -pheasants, he may make up his mind to buy a place and preserve them. -That will be a healthy occupation for him. You will give him to -understand that it's the proper thing to do, Mr. Wynne." - -"You may depend upon me. I'll write to my sister to invite him. It's -only an experiment." - -"It will succeed, Mr. Wynne--it will succeed, I feel that it will. If -you only knew, as I do, how he is being fooled, you would understand my -earnestness--you have long ago forgiven my intrusion. Give me a chance -of serving you in return, Mr. Wynne. That's all I ask." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII.--ON THE DEFECTIVE LINK. - -HAROLD had a note written to Mrs. Lampson, begging her to invite his -friend, Mr. Archie Brown, to join her party at Abbeylands, almost before -Mr. Playdell had left the street. He knew that his sister would be very -glad to have Archie. All the world had a general notion of Archie's -millions; and Abbeylands was one of those immense houses that can -accommodate a practically unlimited number of guests. The property -had been bought from a nobleman, who had been brought to the verge of -bankruptcy by trying to maintain it. Mr. Lampson, a patriotic American, -had come to his relief, and had taken the place off his hands. - -That is what all truly patriotic Americans do when they have an -opportunity. - -The new-world democracy comes to the rescue of the old-world -aristocracy, and thus a venerable institution is preserved from -annihilation. - -Harold posted his letter as he went out to dine with a man who was a -member of the Carlton Club, and zealous in heating up recruits for the -Conservative party. He thought that Harold might possibly be open to -conviction, not, of course, on the question of the righteousness of -certain principles, but on the question of the direction in which the -cat was about to jump. The jumping cat is the dominant power in modern -politics. - -Harold ate his dinner, and listened patiently to the man whose -acquaintance with the tendencies of every genus of the political _felis_ -was supposed to be extraordinary. He said little. Before he had gone to -Castle Innisfail the subject would have interested him greatly, but now -he thought that Archie Brown's inanities were preferable to those of the -politician. - -He was just enough to acknowledge, however, that the cigar with which he -left the Carlton was as good a one as he had ever smoked. So that there -was some advantage in being a Conservative after all. - -He walked round St. James's Square, for the night was warm and fine. His -mind was not conscious of having received anything during the previous -two hours upon which it would be profitable to ponder. He thought over -the question which he had put to himself previously--the question of how -he could bind Beatrice to him--how he could make her certainly his own, -and thus banish that cold distrust of which he now and again became -aware--no, it was not exactly distrust, it was only a slightly defective -link in the chain of complete trust. - -She loved him and she promised to love him. He reflected upon this, and -he asked himself what more could he want. What bond stronger than her -word could he desire to have? - -"Oh, I will trust her for ever--for ever," he murmured. "If she is not -true, then there never was truth on earth." - -He fancied that he had dismissed the matter from his mind with this -exorcism. - -And so he had. - -But it so happens that some persons are so constituted that there is but -the slenderest connection between their mind and their heart. Something -that appeals very forcibly to their mind will not touch their heart in -the least. They are Nature's "sports." - -Harold Wynne was one of these people. He had made up his mind that, on -the question of implicitly trusting Beatrice, nothing more remained to -be said. There was still, however, that cold finger upon his heart. - -But having made up his mind that nothing more remained to be said on the -question, he was logical enough--for logic is also a mental attribute, -though by no means universally distributed--to think of other matters. - -He began to think about Mr. Playdell, and his zeal for the reform of -Archie. Harold's respect for Mr. Playdell had materially increased since -the morning. At first he had been inclined to look with suspicion upon -the man who had, by the machinery of the Church, been prohibited from -discharging the functions of a priest of that Church, though, of course, -he was free to exercise that unimportant function known as preaching. He -could not preach within a church, however. If he wished to try and save -souls by preaching, that was his own business. He would not do so with -the sanction of the Church. He was anxious to save the soul of Archie -Brown, at any rate. He assumed that Archie had a soul in embryo, ready -to be hatched, and it was clear to Harold that Mr. Playdell was anxious -to save it from being addled before it had pecked its way out of its -shell. Therefore Harold had a considerable respect for Mr. Playdell, -though he had been one of the unprofitable servants of the Church. - -He thought of the earnest words of the man--of the earnest way in which -he had begged to be given the chance of returning the service, which he -believed was about to be done to him by Harold. - -He had been greatly in earnest; but that fact only made his words the -more ridiculous. - -"What service could he possibly do me?" Harold thought, when he had -had his laugh, recalling the outstretched hand of Mr. Playdell, and his -eager eyes. "_What service could he possibly do me? What service?_" - -He was rooted to the pavement. The driver of a passing hansom pulled -up opposite him, taking the fact of his stopping so suddenly as an -indication that he wanted a hansom. - -He took no notice of the hansom, and it passed up the square. -He remained so long lost in thought, that his cigar, so strongly -impregnated with sound Conservative principles, went out like any -Radical weed, or the penny Pickwick of the Labour Processionist. - -He dropped the unsmoked end, and felt for his pocket-handkerchief. He -raised his hat and wiped his forehead. - -Then he took a stroll into Piccadilly and on to Knightsbridge. He went -down Sloane Street, and into Chelsea, returning by the Embankment to -Westminster--the clock was chiming the hour of 2 a.m. as he passed. - -But the same clock had struck three before he got into bed, and five -before he fell asleep. - - -END OF VOL. II. - - - - - - -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 the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Gray Eye or So, Complete, by -Frank Frankfort Moore - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GRAY EYE OR SO, COMPLETE *** - -***** This file should be named 51947-8.txt or 51947-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/9/4/51947/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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