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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2a017ab --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #67798 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/67798) diff --git a/old/67798-0.txt b/old/67798-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index e259671..0000000 --- a/old/67798-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,20396 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Mona Maclean, by Graham Travers - -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 -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Mona Maclean - Medical Student--A Novel - -Author: Graham Travers - -Release Date: April 11, 2022 [eBook #67798] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Al Haines - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MONA MACLEAN *** - - - - - - - - MONA MACLEAN - - MEDICAL STUDENT - - _A NOVEL_ - - - - BY - - GRAHAM TRAVERS - - (MARGARET TODD, M.D.) - - - - FIFTEENTH AND CHEAPER EDITION - - - - WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS - EDINBURGH AND LONDON - MDCCCC - - - _All Rights reserved_ - - - - -_BY THE SAME AUTHOR._ - -WINDYHAUGH. Fourth Edition. Crown 8vo, 6s. - -FELLOW TRAVELLERS. Fourth Edition. Crown 8vo, 6s. - -WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS, - -EDINBURGH AND LONDON. - - - - - CONTENTS. - - CHAP. - - I. IN THE GARDEN - II. THE LISTS - III. "ADOLESCENT INSANITY" - IV. SIR DOUGLAS - V. "AN AGATE KNIFE-EDGE" - VI. THE NÆRODAL - VII. A SON OF ANAK - VIII. BONS CAMARADES - IX. DORIS - X. BORROWNESS - XI. THE SHOP - XII. CASTLE MACLEAN - XIII. THE CHAPEL - XIV. REACTION - XV. THE BOTANISTS - XVI. "JOHN HOGG'S MACHINE" - XVII. AUNTIE BELL - XVIII. A SILHOUETTE - XIX. "LEAVES OF GRASS" - XX. ST RULES - XXI. THE FLYING SCOTCHMAN - XXII. DR ALICE BATESON - XXIII. A RENCONTRE - XXIV. A CLINICAL REPORT - XXV. A VOICE IN THE FOG - XXVI. A CHAT BY THE FIRE - XXVII. A NEOPHYTE - XXVIII. THE COLONEL'S YARN - XXIX. "YONDER SHINING LIGHT" - XXX. MR STUART'S TROUBLES - XXXI. STRADIVARIUS - XXXII. CHUMS - XXXIII. CARBOLIC! - XXXIV. PALM-TREES AND PINES - XXXV. WEEPING AND LAUGHTER - XXXVI. NORTHERN MISTS - XXXVII. THE ALGÆ AND FUNGI - XXXVIII. THE BAZAAR - XXXIX. THE BALL - XL. A LOCUM TENENS - XLI. A SINGED BUTTERFLY - XLII. QUESTIONINGS - XLIII. "MITHER!" - XLIV. A CRIMSON STREAK - XLV. AN UNBELIEVER - XLVI. FAREWELL TO BORROWNESS - XLVII. THE DISSECTING-ROOM - XLVIII. CONFIDENCES - XLIX. THE INTERMEDIATE - L. SUCCESS OR FAILURE? - LI. ANOTHER CHAT BY THE FIRE - LII. OLD FRIENDS - LIII. WAITING - LIV. PRESENTATION DAY - LV. LUCY TO THE RESCUE - LVI. A LOST CHANCE - LVII. HAVING IT OUT - LVIII. "LOVE MAY GO HANG!" - LIX. AT LAST! - LX. ON THE RIVER - LXI. A FIN-DE-SIECLE COURTSHIP - LXII. IN ARCADIA - LXIII. "VARIUM ET MUTABILE" - LXIV. PARTNERS - - - - -MONA MACLEAN, - -MEDICAL STUDENT. - - - -CHAPTER I. - -IN THE GARDEN. - -"I wish I were dead!" - -"H'm. You look like it." - -There was no reply for a second or two. The first speaker was -carefully extricating herself from the hammock in which she had been -idly swinging under the shade of a smoke-begrimed lime-tree. - -"No," she said at last, shaking out the folds of her dainty blue -gown, "I flatter myself that I do not look like it. I have often -told you, my dear Mona, that from the point of view of success in -practice, the art of dressing one's hair is at least as important as -the art of dissecting." - -She gave an adjusting touch to her dark-red curls and drew herself to -her full height, as though she were defying the severest critic to -say that she did not live up to her principles. Presently her whole -bearing collapsed, so to speak, into abject despair, half real, half -assumed. "But I do wish I were dead, all the same," she said. - -"Well, I don't see why you should make me wish it too. Why don't you -go on with your book?" - -"Go on with it! I like that! I never began. I have not turned a -page for the last half-hour. That's all the credit I get for my -self-repression! What time is it?" - -"A quarter past twelve." - -"Is that all? And the lists won't be up till two. When shall we -start?" - -"About three, if we are wise--when the crush is over." - -"Thank you! I mean to be there when the clock strikes two. There -won't be any crush. It's not like the Matric; and besides, every one -has gone down. I am sure I wish I had! A telegram 'strikes home,' -but the slow torture of wading through those lists----!" - -She broke off abruptly, and Mona returned to her book, but before she -had read half-a-dozen lines a parasol was inserted between her eyes -and the page. - -"It will be a treat, won't it?--wiring to the other students that -everybody has passed but me!" - -"Lucy, you are intolerable. Have you finished packing?" - -"Practically." - -"Do you mean to travel half the night in that gown?" - -"Not being a millionaire like you, I do not. You little know the -havoc this frock has to work yet. But I presume you would not have -me walk down to Burlington House in my old serge?" - -"Why not? You say everybody is out of town." - -"Precisely. Therefore we, the exceptions, will be all the more _en -évidence_. _I_ don't mean to be taken for an 'advanced woman.' Some -of the Barts. men will be there, and----" - -But Mona was not listening. She had risen from the cushions on which -she had been lounging, and was pacing up and down the grass. - -"You know, Mona, you may say what you please, but you are rather -white about the gills yourself, and you have no cause to be." - -Mona stopped and shot a level glance at her companion. - -"Why not?" she said. "Because I have been ploughed once already, and -so should be used to skinning like the eels?" - -"Nonsense! How you contrived to fail once neither I nor any one else -can pretend to explain, but certain it is that, with the best of -will, you won't achieve the feat a second time. You will be in the -Honours list, of course." - -Mona shrugged her shoulders. "Possibly," she said quietly, "if I -pass. But the question is, shall I pass? - - 'Oh the little more, and how much it is! - And the little less, and what worlds away!'" - -They were walking up and down together now. - -"And even if you don't--it will be a disgrace to the examiners, of -course, and a frightful fag, but beyond that I don't see that it -matters. There is no one to care." - -Mona's cheek flushed. She raised her eyebrows, and turned her head -very slowly towards her companion, with a glance of enquiry. - -"I mean," Lucy said hastily, "you are--that is to say, you are not a -country clergyman's daughter like me. If I fail, it will be the talk -of the parish. The grocer will condole with me over the counter, the -postman will carry the news on his rounds, and the farmers will hear -all about it when they come in to market next Wednesday. It will be -awfully hard on the Pater; he----" - -"From what I know of him, I think he will be able to hold up his head -in spite of it." - -They both laughed. - -"By the way, that reminds me"--and Lucy produced a letter from her -pocket--"he is awfully anxious that you should come to us for a few -weeks this vacation. You have no idea what a conquest you have made -in that quarter. In fact I have been shining with reflected lustre -ever since he met you. He thinks there must be something in me after -all, since I have had the sense to appreciate you." - -"I wonder wherein the attraction between us lies," Mona said -reflectively. "I suppose I am really less grave than I appear, and -you on the whole are less of a flibbertigibbet than the world takes -you to be. So we meet on something of a common ground. I see in you -a side of my nature which in the ordinary course of events I don't -find it easy to express, and possibly you see something of the same -sort in me. Each of us relieves the other of the necessity----" - -"Don't prose, please!" interrupted Lucy. "I never yet found the -smallest difficulty in expressing myself, and--the saints be -praised!--you are not always quite so dull as you are to-day. I -suppose you won't come? What are tennis-parties and picnics to a -Wandering Jew like you?" - -"It is awfully kind of your father. I can't tell you how much I -appreciate his goodness; but I am afraid I can't come." - -"I thought so. Is it the North Pole or the wilds of Arabia this -time?" - -Mona laughed. "To tell the truth," she said, "I must have a day with -my accounts and my bank-book before I stir from Grower Street." - -"What! _you_, Crœsus?" - -"The reproach is deserved, whether you meant it for one or not. I -have been spending too much. What with extra laboratory work in -winter, and coaching last term----" - -"And all those pretty dresses." - -"And all those pretty dresses," repeated Mona, with the air of one -who is making a deliberate confession. - -"And nice damp uncut volumes." - -"Not too many of those," with a defiant little nod of self-defence. - -"And divers charities." - -"Nay, alas! My bank-book has not suffered much from them." - -"And concert tickets, and gloves for impecunious friends, not to say -a couple of excellent stalls from time to time----" - -"Nonsense, Lucy! Considering how hard we have worked, I don't think -you and I have been at all extravagant in our amusements. No, no, I -ought to be able to afford all that. My father left me four hundred -a year, more or less." - -"Good heavens!" If Mona had added a cipher, the sum could scarcely -have impressed her companion more. - -"There! that is so like you schoolgirls----" - -"Schoolgirls, indeed!" - -"You have your allowance of thirty or forty pounds, and you flatter -yourselves that you dress on it, travel on it, amuse yourselves on -it, and surreptitiously feed on it. You never notice the countless -things that come to you from your parents, as naturally as the air -you breathe. You go with your mother to her cupboards and store -closets, or with your father to town, and all the time you are -absorbing money or money's worth. Then you get into debt; there is a -scene, a few tears, and your father's hand goes into his pocket, and -you find yourself with your debts paid, and a pound or two to the -good. I know all about it. Your allowance is the sheerest farce. -Cut off all those chances and possibilities, banish the very -conception of elasticity from your mind, before you judge of my -income." - -Lucy's eyes had been fixed on the ground. She raised them now, and -said very slowly, with a trick of manner she had caught from her -friend,-- - -"I don't think I ever heard such a one-sided statement in my life." - -Mona laughed. "Every revolution and reformation the world has seen -has been the fruit of a one-sided statement." - -"I have already asked you not to prose. Besides, your good seed has -fallen on stony ground for once. Please don't attempt to -revolutionise or reform me!" - -"My dear, if you indulge in the pedantry of quotation from ancient -Jewish literature, pray show some familiarity with the matter of it. -Although, as you remind me, I am not a country clergyman's daughter, -you will allow me to remind you that the seed on the stony ground did -spring up." - -"Bother the seed on stony ground! You said your income was four -hundred a year." - -"More or less. This year it happens to be less, and I have a strong -suspicion that I am in shallow water. If, as I fervently hope, my -suspicion is incorrect, I mean to have a fortnight's walking in Skye. -In any case, I have promised to spend a month on the east coast of -Scotland with a cousin of my father's." - -"I thought you had no cousins?" - -"No more I have--to call cousins. I never saw this one, and I don't -suppose I should ever have heard of her if she had not written to -borrow twenty pounds from me a few years ago. She is quite -comfortably off now, but she cannot get over her gratitude. I don't -suppose she is exactly what you would call a lady. My grandfather -was the successful man of the family in his generation, and my father -was the same in the next; so it is my fault if cousin Rachel and I -have not 'gone off on different lines.'" - -"But why do you go to her?" - -"I don't know. It is an old promise--in fact, she wants me to live -with her altogether--and I am curious to see my 'ancestral towers.'" - -"And have you no other relatives?" - -Mona laughed. "My mother's sister has just come home from India with -her husband, but we are just as far apart as when continents and -oceans divided us. I don't think my mother and she quite hit it off. -Besides, I can imagine her opinion of medical women, and I don't -suppose she ever heard of blessed Bloomsbury." - -"Wait a little," said Lucy. "When you are a famous physician----" - -"I know--bowling along on C springs----" - -"Drawn by a pair of prancing, high-stepping greys----" - -"Leaning back on the luxurious cushions----" - -"Wrapt to the ears in priceless sables----" - -"My waiting-room crowded with patient Duchesses. Yes, of course, she -will be sorry then. I suppose she will have an illness, some -'obscure internal lesion' which will puzzle all the London doctors. -As a last resource she will apply to me. I wave my wand. Hey, -presto! she is cured! But you can't expect her to foresee all that. -It would argue more than average intelligence, and besides, it would -spoil the story." - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -THE LISTS. - -There was no doubt about it. The lists were up. - -As the girls passed through the bar from Vigo Street, they could see -a little knot of men, silent and eager, gathered on the steps in -front of the notice-case. Those who had secured a good position were -leisurely entering sundry jottings in their note-books; those behind -were straining their eyes, straining every muscle in their bodies, in -the endeavour to ascertain the one all-important fact. - -"I told you we should have waited," Mona said quietly, striving to -make the most of a somewhat limited stock of breath. - -"If you tell me the name of the person you are interested in, perhaps -I can help you," said a tall man who was standing beside them. - -"Oh, thank you," Mona smiled pleasantly. "We can wait. We--are -interested in--in several people." - -He stood aside to let them pass in front of him, and in a few minutes -their turn came. - -"Second Division!" ejaculated Lucy, in mingled relief and disgust, as -she came to her own name. "Thank heaven even for that! Just let me -take a note of the others. Now for the Honours list, and Mona -Maclean!" - -The Honours list was all too short, and a few seconds were sufficient -to convince them---- - -"Oh!" burst involuntarily from Lucy's lips, as the truth forced -itself upon her. - -"Hush!" said Mona hastily, in a low voice. "It is all right. Come -along." - -She hurried Lucy down the steps, past the postoffice, and into Regent -Street. - -"You know, dear, there are those confounded telegrams to be sent -off," said Lucy deprecatingly. - -"Yes, yes, I know. There is no hurry. Let me think." - -They strolled along in the bright sunshine, but Mona felt as cold as -lead. She did not believe that she had failed. There must be some -mistake. They had misspelt her name, perhaps, or possibly omitted it -by accident. They would correct the mistake to-morrow. It could not -be that she had really failed again. After all, was she sure that -her name was not there? - -"Lucy," she said at last, "do you mind going back with me to the -University, and glancing over the lists again?" - -"Yes, do. We must have made a mistake. It is simply ridiculous." - -But in her heart of hearts she knew that they had not made a mistake. - -The little crowd had almost dispersed when they returned, and there -was nothing to prevent a quiet and thorough study of the lists. - -"It is infamous," said Lucy, "simply infamous! Small credit it is to -me to have passed when that is all the examiners know of their work!" - -"Nonsense! It's all right. You know I had my weak subject. Come." - -"Will you wait here while I send off the telegrams?" - -"No, I will come with you." - -They passed out of the heat and glare into the dusty little shop, and -Mona leaned her elbow wearily on the counter. She had begun to -believe it now, but not to realise it in the least. "How horribly I -shall be suffering to-morrow!" she thought, with a shiver of dread. - -"Weal and woe!" she said, smiling, as she read the telegrams Lucy had -scribbled. "Two women shall be grinding at the mill; the one shall -be taken and the other left." - -"_Don't_," said Lucy, with a little stamp of her foot. For the -moment she was suffering more than Mona. - -They walked home in silence to the house in Gower Street. - -"Come in to tea? No? Well, good-bye, dear. Take care of yourself. -My love and duty to your father and mother. Write to me here." - -She nodded brightly, opened the door with her latch-key, and entered -the cool dark house. - -Very slowly she dragged herself up to her pretty sitting-room, and -shut the door. She winced as her eye fell on the old familiar -sights--Quain, and Foster, and Mitchell Bruce, the Leitz under its -glass shade, and the box of what she was pleased to dub 'ivory toys.' -Then her eye fell on her own reflection in the draped mirror, and she -walked straight up to the white, strong, sensitive face. - -"Who cares?" she said defiantly. "Not you nor I! What does it -matter? _Ay de mi_! What does anything mean? What is success or -failure after all?" - -From which soliloquy you will be able to form a pretty definite idea -of my heroine's age. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -"ADOLESCENT INSANITY." - -"Rather than go through all that strain again," said Mona the next -morning, "I would throw up the whole thing and emigrate." - -She was leaning back on the pillows, her hair all tumbled into curls -after a restless night, her hands playing absently with the lace on -her morning wrapper. "Why doesn't the coffee come?" - -As she spoke, the maid came in with a tempting little tray. Mona was -a lodger worth having. - -"You look ill, miss," said the girl. - -"No. Only a headache. I am not going out this morning. Bring the -hot water in half an hour." - -"What do people do when they emigrate?" she went on. when the maid -had gone. "They start off with tin pots and pans, but what do they -do when they arrive? I wonder what sort of farmer I should make? -There must be plenty of good old yeoman blood in my veins. 'Two men -I honour and no third'--but the feminine of digging and delving, I -suppose, is baking and mending. Heigh-ho! this can scarcely be -checkmate at my time of life, but it looks uncommonly like it." - -An hour later she was deep in her accounts; the table before her -littered with manuscript books and disjointed scraps of addition and -subtraction. The furrow on her brow gradually deepened. - -"Shallow water!" she said at last, very slowly, raising her head and -folding her arms as she spoke; "shallow water was a euphemism. It -seems to me, my dear Lucy, that your friend is on the rocks." - -She sat for a long time in silence, and then ran her eye quickly over -a pile of unanswered letters. She extracted one, leaned back in her -chair, and looked at the envelope critically. - -"Not strictly what one would call a gentlewoman's letter," she said; -"in fact, a sneering outsider might be tempted to use the word -illiterate. Well, what then?" - -She took out the enclosure and read it through very carefully. She -had tossed it aside thoughtlessly enough when it had found her, a -fortnight before, in all the excitement of the examination; but now -the utterances of the Delphic oracle could not have been studied with -closer attention. - - -"MY DEAR COUSIN,--Yours safely to hand this morning, and very glad I -was to get it. I am afraid you will find us dull company here after -London, but we will do our best." - -("H'm," said Mona. "That means tea-parties--cookies and -shortbread--a flower-show or two in the grounds of the Towers, no -doubt,--possibly even a _soirée_ in the chapel. Wild excitement!") - -"Nobody here knows anything about your meaning to be a doctor, and -what we don't know does us no harm. They would think it a queer kind -of notion in these parts, as you know I do myself, and keep hoping -you will find some nice gentleman----" - -("_Gentleman!_" groaned Mona.) - -"----who will put the idea out of your head. My niece, who has been -living with me for years, has just sailed for America to be married. -You are almost the only friend I have now in the country, and I wish -you could see your way to staying with me till you get married -yourself. It would do no harm to save your own money a bit; your -company would be gain enough to me. I must look out for some one at -once, and it would make a great difference in my life to have you. -Blood's thicker than water, you know." - -("That I don't," said Mona. "My dear woman, any chance advertiser in -to-day's paper would probably suit you better than I. It is as bad -as adopting a foundling.") - -"Write me a line when to expect you. - - "Your affectionate cousin, - "RACHEL SIMPSON." - - -Mona folded the letter thoughtfully, and returned it to its envelope. -Then she rose from her writing-table, threw herself into a -rocking-chair, and clasped her hands behind her head. - -Many a perplexing problem had been solved to the rhythm of that -pleasant motion, but to-day the physical exercise was insufficient. -She got up impatiently and paced the room. From time to time she -stopped at the window, and gazed half absently at the luggage-laden -hansoms hurrying to and from the stations. - -"Shooting, and fishing, and sketching, and climbing," she thought to -herself. "Why am I so out of it all? If there was a corner of the -earth to which I really cared to go, I would undertake to raise the -money, but there is not a wish in my heart. I scarcely even wish I -had passed my examination." - -She returned at last to the writing-table, took pen and paper, and -wrote hastily without stopping to think. She was in the mood in -which people rush at decisions which may make or mar a life. - - -"MY DEAR COUSIN RACHEL,--I was very busy and preoccupied when your -letter reached me, or it would have been answered before now. - -"I don't wonder that you see no need for women doctors--living as you -do in a healthy country village, where I suppose no one is ever ill -unless from old age, a fever, or a broken leg. Perhaps if you saw -something of hospital work here, you would think differently; but we -can discuss that question when we meet. Whether I personally am -qualified for the life I have chosen, is a quite separate question. -About that, no doubt, there might be two unprejudiced opinions. I -have not been very successful of late, although I am convinced that I -have done good work; and I have been spending more money than I ought -to have done. For these reasons, and for others which it is not so -easy to put into words, I am anxious to escape for a time from the -noise and bustle and excitement of London. I should like to be in -some country place where I could think, and read, and live quietly, -and if possible be of some little use to somebody. You are kind -enough--not knowing what an unamiable, self-centred person I am--to -offer me a home with you for an indefinite period; so, if you really -care to purchase 'a pig in a poke,' I will come to you for six -months. By the end of that time you will have discovered most of my -faults, and will have found some one who would suit you a great deal -better. I will pay you whatever you consider the equivalent of my -board, and if I can be of use to you in any way I shall be only too -glad. - - "Believe me always - "Your affectionate cousin, - "MONA MACLEAN." - - -Lunch was on the table before she had finished writing. She lifted -the cover and looked at the nicely cooked dish with irrepressible -disgust, then helped herself, and--fell a-dreaming. - -"Mona, my dear, this will never do," she said, rousing herself with -an effort. "Checkmate or no checkmate, I can't have you fading away -like a lovely flower. What is the use of this _Niersteiner_ if it -does not make you eat? _Hörst du wohl_?" She made a heroic attempt -if not a very successful one, and then proceeded to read over -critically the letter she had just written. - -She shrugged her shoulders as she closed the envelope. - -"Adolescent insanity!" she exclaimed cynically. "Well, why not? -Some of us are adolescent, I suppose, and most of us are insane." - -She put on her hat and strolled down towards Oxford Street to post -the letter. It suited her mood to drop it into the letter-box with -her own hands, and besides, she was rarely so depressed as not to be -amused by the shop-windows. To-day, however, as she wandered -aimlessly on, the gay shows in Regent Street fell upon eyes that saw -not. "If I had only passed," she said, "how happy I should be!" - -She turned wearily homewards, and was met in the hall by the maid. - -"If you please, miss, two ladies called while you were out. They -were in a carriage, and they left this card." - -Mona went up-stairs as she read it. - -"Lady Munro" was the name on the card; an address in Gloucester -Place, Portman Square, was scrawled in the corner; and on the back in -pencil-- - -"So sorry to miss you. You must dine with us without fail on Friday -at eight. No refusal." - -A pleased smile crossed Mona's face. - -"She is spoiling the story," she said. Then the smile was chased -away by a frown. - -"If only the story had not spoiled itself!" - -And then she bethought herself of the letter she had posted. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -SIR DOUGLAS. - -When Friday evening came, Mona took a curious pleasure in making the -very most of herself. - -She knew, as well as any outsider could have told her, that her -present depression and apathy were but the measure of the passionate -enthusiasm with which she had lived the life of her choice; and yet -it was inevitable that for the time she should look at life wholly on -the shadowed side. Past and future seemed alike gloomy and -forbidding--"_Grau, grau, gleichgültig grau_"--and the eager, -unconscious protest of youth against such a destiny, took the form of -a resolution to enjoy to the utmost this glimpse of brightness and -colour. She would forget all but the present; new surroundings -should find her for the moment a new being. - -When she reached Gloucester Place, Lady Munro and her daughter were -alone in the drawing-room. - -Lady Munro was one of those people who make a marked impress on their -material surroundings. The rooms in which she lived quickly became, -as it were, a part of herself, which her friends could not fail to -recognise as such. - -Eastern rugs and draperies clothed the conventional London -sitting-room; luxuriant, tropical-looking plants were grouped in -corners, great sensuous roses lolled in Indian bowls, and a few rich -quaint lamps cast a mellow glow across the twilight of the room. - -"Why, Mona, can it really be you?" Lady Munro rose from her lounge, -and kissed her niece affectionately on both cheeks. For a moment -Mona could scarcely find words. She was keenly susceptible at all -times to the beauty of luxury, and the very atmosphere of this room -called up with irresistible force forgotten memories of childhood. -The touch of this gracious woman's lips, the sound of her voice, the -soft _frou-frou_ of her gown, all gave Mona a sense of exquisite -physical pleasure. Lady Munro was not, strictly speaking, a -beautiful woman; but a subtle grace, a subtle fascination, a subtle -perfume were part of her very being. She was worshipped by all the -men who knew her, but the most cynical of her husband's friends could -not deny that she was no whit less charming in her intercourse with -her own sex than she was with them. She was not brilliant; she was -not fast; she was simply herself. - -"This is my daughter Evelyn," she said; and she laid her hand on a -sweet, quiet, overgrown English schoolgirl--one of those curious -chrysalis beings whom a few months of Anglo-Indian society transform -from a child into a finished woman of the world. - -"I expect my husband every moment. He is longing to meet you." - -Evelyn slowly raised her blue eyes, looked quietly at her mother for -a moment, and let them fall again without the smallest change of -expression. In fact, Lady Munro's remark was a graceful modification -of the truth. Sir Douglas Munro was nothing if not a man of the -world. He knew the points of a wine, and he knew the points of a -horse; but above all he flattered himself that he knew the points of -a woman. He had made a study of them all his life, and he believed, -perhaps rightly, that he could read them like an open book. "Sweet -seventeen" was at a cruel disadvantage in his hands, if indeed he -exerted himself to speak to her at all. The genus _Medical Woman_ -was not as yet included in his collection, but he had heard of it, -and had classified it in his own mind as a useful but uninteresting -hybrid, which could not strictly be called a woman at all. In the -sense, therefore, in which a lukewarm entomologist "longs to meet" -the rare but ugly beetle which he believes will complete his cabinet, -Sir Douglas Munro was "longing" to make the acquaintance of Mona -Maclean. - -The new beetle certainly took him by surprise when he came in a -minute later. - -"Mona!" he replied to his wife's introduction; "Mona Maclean--the -doctor?" - -Mona laughed as she rose, and took his proffered hand. - -"Far from it," she said. "In the vacation I try to forget that I am -even the makings of one." - -She looked almost handsome as she stood there in the soft light of -the room. Lady Munro forgot that her niece was a medical student, -and experienced a distinct sense of pride and proprietorship. No -ordinary _modiste_, she felt sure, had arranged those folds of soft -grey crape, and the dash of glowing crimson geraniums on the shoulder -was the touch of an artist. - -"Mona is the image of her mother," she said. - -"Ye-e-s," said Sir Douglas, availing himself of his wife's -relationship to look at Mona very frankly. "She reminds me a good -deal of what you were at her age." - -"Nonsense!" said Mona hastily. "Remember I am not used to flattery." - -"To receiving or to paying it?" - -"To neither;" and she turned a look of very honest and almost -childlike admiration on her aunt. - -Sir Douglas looked pleased, although he himself had long ceased to -pay his wife compliments. - -"There's a great deal of your father in your face, too," he said. -"You have got his mouth. Ah, he was a good fellow! I could tell you -many a story of our Indian life--a man in a thousand!" - -"You could tell me nothing I should more dearly like to hear," said -Mona, with eager interest. - -"Ah, well--some day, some day." - -A native servant announced dinner, and Sir Douglas gave Mona his arm. - -"What! another scene from the 'Arabian Nights'?" she said as they -entered the dining-room. "It is clear that a very wonderful genius -presides over your household." - -"You are going to have an Indian dinner, too," said Lady Munro. -"Nubboo makes all the _entrées_ and soups and sauces. He is worth -half-a-dozen English servants." - -Mona looked up at the dark bearded face under the voluminous white -turban, but she could not tell whether Nubboo had heard the remark. -All the philosophy of Buddh might lie behind those sad impenetrable -eyes, or he might be thinking merely of the _entrées_; it was -impossible to say. If the whole occasion had not seemed to her, as -she said, a bit out of the 'Arabian Nights,' she would have thought -it sacrilege that a man with such a face should be employed in so -trivial an occupation as waiting at table. - -"When I look at Nubboo I can almost believe myself a baby again," she -said. "He seems like a bit of my dream-world." - -The feeblest ghost of a smile flitted across the man's face, as he -moved noiselessly from place to place. - -"It must be a dream-world," laughed her aunt. "You cannot remember -much of that!" - -"I don't;" and Mona sighed. - -Lady Munro and Mona kept the ball going between them during dinner. -Evelyn only spoke now and then, to tone down one of her mother's most -piquant and highly coloured remarks; and she did this with a hidden -sense of humour which never rose to the surface in her face. Sir -Douglas spoke as much as courtesy absolutely demanded, but no more. -The new beetle was evidently perplexing him profoundly. - -Lady Munro's feeling for her niece was one of mingled pride, -affection, disgust, and fear--disgust for the life-work she had -chosen, fear of her supposed "cleverness." Lady Munro despised -learned women, but she was not at all willing that they should -despise her. She exerted herself to talk well, but even Mona's -evident admiration could not put her quite at her ease. - -"How is it we have seen so little of you, Mona?" she said, when they -had left Sir Douglas to his wine. "Where were you when we were last -at home?" - -"In Germany, I suppose. I went there for three years after I left -school." - -"To study music?" - -"Both music and painting in a small way." - -"You wonderful girl! Then you are a musician?" - -"_Gott bewahre!_" burst from Mona involuntarily. "My musical friends -thought me a Turner, and my artistic friends thought me a Rubinstein; -from which you may gather the truth, that I had no real gift for -either." - -"So you say! I expect you are an 'Admirable Crichton.'" - -"If that be a euphemism for 'Jack-of-all-trades and master of none,' -I suppose I am--alas!" - -"And does Homer never nod? Do you never amuse yourself like other -girls?" - -"I am afraid I must not allow you to call me a girl I believe you -have my grandmother's Family Bible. Yes, indeed, Homer nods a great -deal more than is consistent with his lofty calling. I am an epicure -in frivolling." - -"In what?" - -"Forgive my school slang! It means that I indulge quite freely -enough in concerts, theatres, and in picture-galleries--not to say -shop-windows." - -"You don't mean to say that _you_ care for shop-windows?" and again -Lady Munro's glance rested with satisfaction on Mona's pretty gown, -although she was half afraid her niece was laughing at her. - -"Oh, don't I? You little know!" - -"Pictures, I suppose, and old china and furniture and that sort of -thing," said Lady Munro, treading cautiously. - -"Yes, I like all those, but I like pretty bonnets too, and tea-gowns -and laces and note-paper and--every kind of arrant frivolity and -bagatelle. But they must be pretty, you know. I am not caught with -absolute chaff." - -"You don't care about fashion, you mean." - -Mona drew down her brows in deep thought. Clearly she was talking -honestly. Then she shook her head with a light laugh. - -"I am getting into deep water," she said. "I am afraid I do care -about fashion, fashion _quâ_ fashion, fashion pure and simple." - -"Not if it is ugly?" questioned Evelyn gravely. - -"Not if it is ugly, surely; but I question if it often is ugly in the -hands of the artists among dressmakers. It is just as unfair to -judge of a fashion as it issues from the hands of a mere seamstress, -as it is to judge of an air from its rendering on a barrel-organ or a -penny trumpet." - -Lady Munro laughed. "I shall tell my husband that," she said. -"Douglas"--as he entered the room--"you have no idea of the heresies -Mona has been confessing. She cares as much about new gowns and -bonnets as anybody." - -Sir Douglas looked at Mona very gravely. Either he had not heard the -remark, or he was striving to adapt it to his mental sketch of her -character. - -He seated himself on the sofa beside her, and turned towards her as -though he meant to exclude his wife and daughter from the -conversation. - -"Have you seriously taken up the study of medicine?" he asked. - -"Now for it!" thought Mona. - -She took for granted that he was a decided enemy of the "movement," -and although at the moment she was in little humour for the old -battle, she was bound to be true to her colours. So she donned her -armour wearily. - -"I certainly have," she said quietly. - -"And you mean to practise?" - -"Assuredly." - -The examination and its concomitant sorrows were forgotten. She -answered the question as she would have answered it at any time in -the last three or four years. - -"Are you much interested in the work?" - -"Very much," she said warmly. - -"I am sure you need scarcely ask that," said Lady Munro, with a kind -smile. "One does not undertake that sort of thing _pour s'amuser_!" - -"There are other motives," he said, looking severely at his wife. -"There is ambition." This was shrewdly said, and Mona's respect for -her opponent rose. A fit of coughing had interrupted him. - -His wife looked at him anxiously. "I wish you would prescribe for my -husband," she said, smiling. - -"_Don't!_" ejaculated Sir Douglas fiercely, before the cough gave him -breath to speak. - -At this moment Nubboo announced a visitor, a cousin of Sir Douglas', -and the latter seemed glad of an interruption which allowed him to -have Mona entirely to himself. - -He shook hands with the new-comer, and then, returning to Mona's -side, sat in silence for a few moments as if trying to collect his -thoughts. - -"The fact is," he broke out impulsively at last, "I am torn asunder -on this subject of women doctors--torn asunder. There is a terrible -necessity for them--terrible--and yet, what a sacrifice!" - -Mona could scarcely believe her ears. This was very different from -the direct, brutal attack she had anticipated. Instinctively she -laid down her armour, and left herself at his mercy. - -"I think you are unusually liberal to admit the necessity," she said, -but her sweet earnest face said much more for her than her words. - -"_Liberal!_" he said. "What man can live and not admit it? It makes -me mad to think how a woman can allow herself to be pulled about by a -_man_. Fifty years hence no woman will have the courage to own that -it ever happened to her. But the sacrifice is a fearful one. -Picture my allowing Evelyn to go through what you are going through!" -And his glance rested fondly on his daughter's fair head. - -"I agree with you so far," said Mona, "that no woman should undertake -such work under the age of twenty-three." - -"_Twenty-three!_" he repeated. "It is bad for a _man_, but a man has -some virtues which remain untouched by it. A woman loses everything -that makes womanhood fair and attractive. You _must_ be becoming -hard and blunted?" - -He looked at her as if demanding an answer. - -"I hope not," said Mona quietly, and her eyes met his. - -"You _hope_ not!" He dashed back her words with all the vehemence of -an evangelical preacher who receives them in answer to his -all-important question. "You _hope_ not! Is that all you can say? -You are not sure?" - -"It is difficult to judge of one's self," said Mona thoughtfully, -turning her face full to his piercing gaze; "and one's own opinion -would not be worth having. I believe I am not becoming hardened. I -am sure my friends would say I am not." - -She felt as if he were reading her inmost soul, and for the moment -she was willing that he should. No other argument would be of any -weight in such a discussion as this. - -He dropped his eyes, half ashamed of his vehemence. "No need to tell -me that," he said hurriedly. "I am used to reading women's faces. I -have been searching yours all evening for the hard lines that must be -there, but there is not a trace that is not perfectly womanly. And -yet I cannot understand it! From the very nature of your work you -must revel in scenes of horror." - -"_That_ I am sure we don't!" said Mona warmly. She would have -laughed if they had both been less in earnest. "You don't say that -of all the noble nurses who have had to face scenes of horror." - -"But you must become blunted, if you are to be of any use." - -"I don't think blunted is the word. It is extremely true, as some -one says, that pity becomes transformed from an emotion into a -motive." - -He seemed to be weighing this. - -"You dissect?" he said presently. - -"Yes." - -"Think of that alone! It is human butchery." - -"Of course you must know that I do not look upon it in that light." - -But a sense of hopelessness came upon her, as she realised how she -was handicapped in this discussion. She must either be silent or -speak in an unknown tongue. How could she explain to this man the -wonder and the beauty of the work that he dismissed in a brutal -phrase? How could she talk of that ever-new field for observation, -corroboration, and discovery; that unlimited scope for the keen eye, -the skilful hand, the thinking brain, the mature judgment? How could -she describe those exquisite mechanisms and traceries, those -variations of a common type, developing in accordance with fixed law, -and yet with a perfectness of adaptation that _a priori_ would have -seemed like an impossible fairy tale? How cruelly she would be -misunderstood if she talked here of the passionate delight of -discovery, of the enthusiasm that had often made her forgetful of -time and of all other claims? "To be a true anatomist," she thought -with glowing face, "one would need to be a mechanician and a -scientist, an artist and a philosopher. He who is not something of -all these must be content to learn his work as a trade." - -Sir Douglas was looking at her intently. As a medical student she -had got beyond his range. As a woman, for the moment, she was -beautiful. Such a light is only seen in the eyes of those who can -see the ideal in the actual. - -But he had not finished his study. He must bring her down to earth -again. - -"Do you remember your first day in the dissecting-room?" - -"Yes," said Mona. She sighed deeply, and the light died out of her -eyes. - -"A ghastly experience!" - -"Yes." - -"And yet you say you have not become blunted?" - -"I do not think," said Mona, trying hard with a woman's instinct to -avoid the least suspicion of dogmatism--"I do not think that one -becomes blunted when one ceases to look at the garbage side of a -subject. Every subject, I suppose, _has_ its garbage side, if one is -on the look-out for it; and in anatomy, unfortunately, that is the -side that strikes one first, and consequently the only one outsiders -ever see. It is difficult to discuss the question with one who is -not a doctor" ("nor a scientist," she added inwardly); "but if you -had pursued the study, I think you would see that one must, in time, -lose sight of all but the wonder and the beauty of it." - -There was a long pause. - -"When you are qualified," he said at last, "you only mean to attend -your own sex?" - -"Oh, of course," said Mona earnestly. - -He seemed relieved. - -"That was why my wife made me angry by suggesting, even in play, that -you should prescribe for me. You women are--with or without -conscious sacrifice--wading through seas of blood to right a terrible -evil that has hitherto been an inevitable one. If you deliberately -and gratuitously repeat that evil by extending your services to men, -the sacrifice has all been for nothing, and less than nothing." - -He spoke with his old vehemence, and then relapsed into silence. - -His next remark sounded curiously irrelevant. - -"How long do you remain here?" - -"In London? I don't quite know. I am going to visit a cousin in ten -days or so." - -Sir Douglas took advantage of a pause in the conversation between his -wife and their visitor. - -"Bruce," he said, "let me introduce you to my niece, Miss Maclean." - -"That," he continued to his wife, with a movement of his head in -Mona's direction, "is a great medical light." - -Mona laughed. - -"I am sure of it," said Lady Munro, with her irresistible smile. "As -for me, I would as soon have a woman doctor as a man." - -Sir Douglas threw back his head and clapped his hands, with a harsh -laugh. - -"Well," he said, "when you come to say that--the skies will fall." - -"Douglas, what _do_ you mean?" She looked annoyed. At the moment -she really believed that she had been an advocate of women doctors -all her life. Sir Douglas seated himself on a low chair beside her, -and began to play with her embroidery silks. - -When Mona rose to go, a little later, Lady Munro took her hand -affectionately. - -"Mona," she said, "I told you we were starting on Monday morning for -a short tour in Norway. My husband and I should be so pleased if you -would go with us." - -Mona's cheek flushed. "How _very_ kind!" she said. "I am so sorry -it is impossible." - -"Why?" said Sir Douglas quickly. "You don't need to go to your -cousin till the end of the month." - -Mona's colour deepened. "There is no use in beating about the bush," -she said. "The fact is, I am engaged in the interesting occupation -of retrenching just now. You know"--as Sir Douglas looked -daggers--"I have not the smallest claim on you." - -He laughed, and laid his hand on her shoulder. - -"Don't be afraid, Mona," he said. "We are not trying to establish a -claim on you. The great medical light shall continue her way as -heretofore, without let or hindrance. Give us your society for a -fortnight, and we shall be only too much your debtors." - -"It will make the greatest difference to all of us!" said Lady Munro -cordially. - -And Evelyn, with the facile friendship of a schoolgirl, slipped her -arm caressingly round her cousin's waist. - -And so it was arranged. - -"Shall Nubboo call you a hansom," said Lady Munro. - -"She doesn't want a hansom," said Sir Douglas. "Throw your gown over -your arm, and put on a cloak, and I will see you home." - -It was a beautiful summer night; the air was soft and pleasant after -the burning heat of the day. - -It was natural that Sir Douglas should be curious to see the habitat -of his new beetle, and after all, he was practically her uncle; but -when they reached her door she held out her hand with a frank smile. - -"You have been very kind to me," she said. "Good night." - -"I am afraid Lucy would say I had not 'stood up' to him enough," she -thought. "But all he wanted was to dissect me, and I hope he has -done it satisfactorily. What a curious man he is! I wonder if any -one ever took quite that view of the subject before? Not at all the -view of a Sir Galahad, I fancy"--and she thought of a passage that -had puzzled her in _Rhoda Fleming_--"but he was kind to me, and -honest with me, and I like him. I must try very hard not to become -unconsciously 'blunted' as he calls it." - -Her eye fell on a letter from her cousin, and she sat down in her -rocking-chair, cast a regretful glance at the withered maidenhairs on -her shoulder, and tore open the envelope. - - -"MY DEAR COUSIN,--Your letter has just come in, and very good news it -is. All the world looks brighter since I read it. I will do my best -to make you happy, and although you will have plenty of time to -yourself, you will be of the greatest use to me. Both in the house -and in the shop----" - - -"Good God!" said Mona; and letting the letter fall, she buried her -face in her hands. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -"AN AGATE KNIFE-EDGE." - -It is doubtful whether Mona had ever received such a shock in the -whole course of her life. - -She had always been told, and she had gloried in the knowledge, that -her father's father was a self-made man; but the very fact that she -did thus glory was a proof, perhaps in more ways than one, that the -process of "making" had been a very complete one. She vaguely knew, -but she did not in the least realise, what people may be before they -are "made." She had taken for granted, as she told Lucy, that her -cousin Rachel was "not exactly what one would call a lady;" but she -had unconsciously pictured to herself a pretty cottage embowered in -roses, a simple primitive life, early dinners, occasional afternoon -calls, rare tea-parties, and abundant leisure for walking, reading, -thinking, and dreaming on the rocks. Her love for the sea, and -especially for the wild east coast, amounted almost to a passion, -which hitherto she had had but little opportunity of gratifying; and -this love, perhaps, had weighed with her as much as anything else, in -the decision she had made. - -She had talked with pride of the "good old yeoman blood" in her -veins, but principle and dainty nurture shrank alike from the idea of -the middleman--the shop. - -She did not dream of withdrawing from the rashly concluded bargain. -That simple way out of the difficulty never suggested itself to her -mind. "After all, could I have done any better?" she said. "Even if -Sir Douglas and my aunt took more than a passing interest in me, -should I be content to devote my life to them? Nay, verily!" But -all her philosophy could not save her from a _mauvais quart -d'heure_--nor from a restless wakeful night--after she had read the -letter. - -And yet the situation appealed irresistibly to her sense of humour. - -"If only Lucy were here to enjoy it!" she said. And she found the -necessary relief to her feelings in a long letter to her friend. - - -"I can see you turn pale at the word _shop_," she wrote, "as I -confess I did myself; but I suppose your youthful and untrammelled -imagination has taken flight at once to Parkins & Gotto or Marshall & -Snelgrove. My dear, let me inform you at once that the town contains -less than two thousand inhabitants; and now, will you kindly reflect -on the number of cubic feet which the Parkins & Gotto and Marshall & -Snelgrove of such a place would find ample for the bestowal of their -wares. My own impression is, that my sitting-room would afford -sufficient accommodation for both, and I am not sure that there would -not be room for Fortnum & Mason to boot. - -"If I only knew what I am to sell, it would be some relief. Tobacco -was my first thought, but the place is not big enough to support a -tobacconist. At whisky I draw the line--and yet, on second thoughts, -I don't. If it is tobacco or whisky--behold my life-work! But if it -is toffee and ginger-bread horses, and those ghastly blue balls--what -are they for, by the way?--may the Lord have mercy upon my soul!" - -She mentioned her meeting with the Munros, and the projected trip to -Norway, and then-- - -"I hope the grocer duly congratulated you over the counter," she -concluded. "I take a fraternal interest in his behaviour now, and -with characteristic catholicity I have gone further afield, and have -imagined the very words in which the postman delivered his tit-bit of -information, I have even pictured the farmers forgetting the price of -hay, and the state of the crops, in the all-absorbing topic of the -hour. - - "Your affectionate friend, - "MONA MACLEAN." - - -"And now," she said to herself, as she surveyed the alarming array of -trunks and packing-cases which the servants had placed in the -room,--"now I am in the position commonly described as having my work -cut out for me! The valise must do for Norway, that trunk and -hat-box for Borrowness, and all the rest must be warehoused at -Tilbury's." - -The consideration of her wardrobe provided food for some reflection -and a good deal of amusement. - -"Pity there is no time to write to the _Queen_ for information as to -outfit desirable for six months in a small shop at Borrowness!" she -thought. - -Finally, she decided on a plain tailor-made tweed, a dark-coloured -silk, a couple of pretty cotton morning-gowns, and a simple -evening-dress, "in case of emergency," she said, but she knew in her -heart that no such emergency would arise. - -"The good folks will think those sweetly simple, and befitting the -state of life to which it has pleased Providence to call me," she -said. "They would stare a little if they knew what I had paid for -them, I fancy. Borrowness '_versteht so was nicht_,' as my dear old -Frau used to say of Pauline and the asparagus." - -In the midst of her work Sir Douglas and Evelyn came in on some -mythical errand. Lady Munro would have come herself, but she was so -busy. Sir Douglas was in high spirits. It really was true of him, -what Lady Munro had graciously said of all of them, that Mona's going -made the greatest difference in the pleasure of the tour. From the -point of view of personal companionship he had long since exhausted -his wife, and Evelyn was still too crude and insipid to be thought of -in that capacity. To his peculiar, and possibly morbid, taste, -Mona's society had all the piquancy which was as desirable to his -mind as were Nubboo's curries to his jaded Anglo-Indian palate. - -It was sad work that packing. Many a bright hope and lofty ambition -was buried with the books and instruments in the great wooden cases; -and who could tell whether there would be any resurrection? Mona -felt that another fortnight of life would bring her to the end of all -things. "A world of failure and blighted enthusiasm behind," she -said, "a wild waste of vulgarity and mediocrity in front; and here I -stand for an instant poised on an 'agate knife-edge' of fashion and -luxury and popularity. _Carpe diem_!" - - -"And I'm sure, miss, if you'll give me what notice you can, I'll do -my very best to have the rooms vacant again," said the good-hearted -Irish landlady, who kept dropping in at the most inconvenient moments -to offer assistance and shed a few tears. "It's little trouble -you've given, and many's the time it's done me good to meet your -bright face on the stair." - -"You may be quite sure that if I am ever in London for any length of -time, I shall try very hard to secure my old quarters," said Mona -cordially; "but it is impossible to tell what the future may bring;" -and she sighed. - -If lodgers could be made to order, Mrs O'Connor would fain have had -hers a little more communicative. She was thirsting for an -explanation of the fine carriage that had driven up to the door on -Wednesday afternoon, and of the beautiful lady who had seemed so -disappointed to find Miss Maclean out. - -When the same equipage disappeared with Mona on Monday morning, and -Mrs O'Connor had leisure to reflect on the apparent finality of this -departure, in the light of the alternate high spirits and profound -depression which had not altogether escaped her observation, she came -to the conclusion that Miss Maclean was meditating a good match, but -that she did not quite know her own mind. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -THE NÆRODAL. - -"Don't talk to me of 'kariols' and 'stolkjaerres,'" said Sir Douglas -hotly. "I never got such an infernal shaking in my life." - -Mona laughed. "Do you know," she said, "I imagine that 'kariols' and -'stolkjaerres' have done more to make or mar Norway than all its -mountains and fjords. They are so picturesque and characteristic, -and they make up so neatly into wooden toys and silver ornaments. -Scenery and sunsets are all very well, but it is amazing how grown-up -children love to carry home a piece of cake from the party, and in -this case the piece of cake serves as an excellent advertisement." - -"Fill your pockets with cake by all means, but let us have more -substantial diet while we are here. You girls may do as you like; -for the future, Maud and I travel in a calesch." - -They were all sitting on the grassy mounds and hillocks near the edge -of the precipice, above the Nærodal at Stalheim. - -The air was full of the fragrance of spicy herbs and shrubs, and the -ceaseless buzz of insects in the mellow sunshine could be heard above -the distant unvarying roar of the waterfalls. - -In front lay the "narrow valley," bounded on either side by a range -of barren, precipitous hills, half lost in shadow, half glowing in -purple and gold. Some thousand feet below, like a white scar, lay -the river, spanned by tiny bridges, over which horses and vehicles -crawled like flies. Behind, the pretty, gimcrack hotel raised its -insolent little gables in the midst of the great solitude; and beyond -that, hills and mountains rose and fell like an endless series of -mighty billows. - -Lady Munro was leaning back in a hammock-chair, half asleep over her -novel; Sir Douglas puffed at his fragrant cigar, and protested -intermittently against all the hardships he had been called upon to -endure; Evelyn, with the conscientiousness of an intelligent -schoolgirl, was sketching the Nærodal; and Mona leaned idly against a -hillock, her hands clasped behind her head, her face for the moment a -picture of absolute rest and satisfaction. - -"Why don't they bring the coffee?" said Lady Munro, stifling a yawn. -"Evelyn, do go and enquire about it, do!" - -"It has not been served on the verandah yet," said Evelyn, without -looking up from her work, "and you know they are not likely to -neglect us." - -"No, indeed," said Mona. "I can assure you it is a great privilege -to poor little insignificant me to travel in such company. I have -long known that the god of hotel-keepers all over the world is the -hot-tempered, exacting, free-handed Englishman. I used to think it a -base superstition, but now that I have all the privileges of a -satellite, I see that it is a wise and beneficent worship." - -"You pert little minx!" said Sir Douglas, trying to control the -twitching at the corners of his mouth. - -"And I have also learned," continued Mona unabashed, looking at her -aunt, "that a fascinating manner of languid dignity, mingled with a -subtle Anglo-Indian imperiousness, is worth a whole fortune in -'tips.' I mean to cultivate a far-off imitation of it." - -"Mona, you are too bad!" Lady Munro had become much attached to her -niece, but she never felt quite sure of her even now. - -"My own belief is," said Evelyn dreamily, "that the respect with -which we are treated is due entirely to Nubboo." - -"Well, he does give an air of distinction to the party, I confess," -Mona answered. "When he is on the box of the calesch I shall feel -that nothing more is required of me." - -At this moment a stolid, fair-haired girl, in picturesque Norwegian -dress, appeared with a tray of cups and saucers, and Nubboo followed -with the coffee. There was a perpetual dispute between them as to -who should perform this office. Each considered the other a most -officious meddler, and they ended, not very amicably, by sharing the -duty between them. - -"What a jumble you are making of the world!" laughed Mona, as she -watched the retreating figures. "How do you reconcile it with your -sense of the fitting to bring together types like those? A century -hence there will be no black, no white; humanity will all be -uniformly, hideously, commonplacely yellow!" - -"God forbid!" ejaculated Sir Douglas, with orthodox social horror of -the half-caste. "Who the deuce taught these people to make coffee?" - -"I am sure we have reason to know," sighed his wife, "that it is -impossible to _teach_ people to make coffee." - -"_Nascitur non fit_? I suppose so, but it is curious--in a savage -nation;" and he drank the coffee slowly and appreciatively, with the -air of a professional wine-taster. - -Mona rose, put her cup on the rustic table, and looked at Evelyn's -painting. "How are you getting on?" she said, laying her hand -caressingly on the girl's shoulder. - -"If only the shadows would stand still! Mona, you are very lazy. Do -come and draw. See, I've two sketch-blocks, and no end of brushes." - -"Ah!" said Mona. "Let me really succeed with a _Dies Iræ_, or a -Transfiguration, and then I shall think of attacking the Nærodal." - -Evelyn raised her blue eyes. "Don't be cutting, please," she said -quietly. - -"And why not, pray, if it amuses me and does you no harm? In the -insolent superiority of youth, must you needs dock one of the few -privileges of crabbed age? My dear," she went on, seating herself -again, "when I had reached the mature age of twelve I planned a great -historic painting, The Death of William II. I took a pillow, tied a -string some inches from one end, and round the kingly neck, thus -roughly indicated, I fastened my own babyish merino cape, which was -to do duty for the regal mantle. I threw my model violently on the -floor to make the folds of the cape fall haphazard, and then with -infinite pains I proceeded to make them a great deal more haphazard -than the fall had done. To tell the truth, the size and cut of the -garment were such that I might almost as well have tried to get folds -in a collar." - -"No great feat," said Sir Douglas ruefully, "if it came from a -Norwegian laundry! Well?" - -Mona laughed sympathetically. "On the same principle I studiously -arranged my head and arms on the dressing-table before the glass to -look as if I had fallen from my horse, and I studied the attitude -till I flattered myself that I could draw it from memory. But the -legs and the nether garments--there lay the rub! Heigh-ho, Evelyn! -you need not grudge me my cheap cynicism as a solatium for the loss -of the excitement that kept me awake making plans for hours at night, -and the passionate eagerness with which I prosecuted my researches by -day--between the boards of Collier's 'British History'!" - -"But the picture," asked Sir Douglas; "does it survive!" - -"Alas, no! Not even as an unfinished fragment. A laburnum-tree and -two rose-bushes in the garden represented the New Forest, and I never -watched any one leave the room without making a mental study of -Walter Tyrrell disappearing among the trees. But the royal legs were -too great a responsibility." - -"Why on earth didn't you get some one to lie on the floor as a model?" - -Mona's face assumed an expression of horror. - -"You don't suppose I spoke to any one of my picture! I was worlds -too shy. Is that all you know of the diffidence of genius?" - -"I expect it was a very clever picture," said Lady Munro admiringly. - -"My dear aunt, I can see it clearly in my mind's eye now, and -although 'the past will always win a glory from its being far,' I -cannot flatter myself that there is an atom of talent in that -picture. There is not a strong line in it. I had plenty of -resource, but no facility." - -"It must have been a great disappointment to you to leave it -unfinished at last." - -"Oh dear, no! I believe the difficulty of the legs would have been -surmounted in the long-run somehow, but I suddenly discovered that -the true secret of happiness lay in novel-writing. I spent the one -penny I possessed at the moment on a note-book, and set to work." - -"What was the title?" asked Evelyn, who had some thoughts of writing -a novel herself. - -"'Jack's First Sixpence,'" said Mona solemnly. - -"And the plot----?" asked Sir Douglas. - -"----narrows itself naturally, as you will see, to what he did with -the sixpence. I believe"--Mona's lips quivered, and her eyes brimmed -over with laughter, but she still spoke with great solemnity--"that -after much reflection he deposited it in the missionary-box. I -clearly see, on looking back, that my budding originality found more -congenial scope in art than in literature." - -"And did that get finished?" asked Evelyn. - -"It did--in the long-run; but it had a narrow escape. I had written -some twelve pages, when I suddenly thought of a title for a new -story. My next penny went on another note-book, and I wrote on the -first page-- - - '_The Bantam Cock and the Speckled Hen: - - A Story. - - By - - Mona Maclean._' - -It looked very well, but for the life of me I could get no further. -To this day I have never had one idea in my head on the subject of -that bantam cock and speckled hen. So I was forced to return to -commonplace Jack; and a year later, when I went to school, the second -note-book was filled up with four hundred dates, which I duly -committed to memory. What a glorious thing education is!" - -She sprang to her feet, ashamed of having talked so much, and was -glad that the tardy arrival of the post from Vossevangen formed a -natural interruption to her reminiscences. The _portier_ brought out -a bundle of Indian letters and papers for Sir Douglas, and a letter -for Mona in Lucy's handwriting. It "brought her down to earth with a -run," as she candidly informed the writer a fortnight later, and she -put it in her pocket with a frown. It was not pleasant to be -reminded of a commonplace, sneering, work-a-day world beyond the -hills and the sunshine. - -"Nothing for me!" exclaimed Evelyn. "Maria and Annette promised -faithfully to answer my letters by return." - -"I don't think they've had time even for that," said Mona. "The -Norwegians pride themselves on their facilities for posting letters, -but you must not expect a reply!" - -Sir Douglas went indoors to read and answer his letters in comfort, -Evelyn proceeded diligently with her painting, and Mona announced her -intention of going for a walk. - -"I cannot rest," she said, "till I have explored that path that runs -like a belt round the hills to the Jördalsnut. I shall be back in -plenty of time for supper." - -"My dear Mona!" exclaimed her aunt, "it looks dreadfully dangerous. -You must not think of it. A footpath half-way down a precipice!" - -"It must be a horse-track," said Mona, "or we should not see it so -distinctly from here. Certainly the least I owe you is not to run -into any unnecessary danger; and I assure you, you may trust me. Do -you see that cottage at the end of the path close to the Jördalsnut? -When I get there, I will wave my large silk handkerchief. Perhaps -you will see it if you are still here. _Au revoir!_" She kissed her -aunt's dainty ringed hand, and set off at a good walking pace. - -She had already made enquiry respecting the shortest way to the -Jördalsnut, and she found it now without much difficulty. For half a -mile or so it lay along the beaten road, and then turned off into the -fields. From these, she passed into a straggling copse of stunted -trees and tangled undergrowth, and emerged suddenly and unexpectedly -on the brink of a deep gorge. Away down below, brawled and tumbled a -foaming swollen tributary of the river, and Mona saw, with some -uneasiness, that a plank without any kind of handrail did duty for a -bridge. - -"Now's your chance, my dear girl," she said; "if you mean to keep -your head in a case of life and death, or in a big operation--keep it -_now_!" - -She gave herself a second to make up her mind--not another in which -to think better of it--and then walked steadily across. - -"After all, there was no danger for anybody one degree removed from -an idiot," she said, with characteristic contempt for an achievement -the moment it had passed from the region of _posse_ into that of -_esse_. - -But it was with renewed energy that she climbed the opposite side of -the gorge and mounted the steep stony path that brought her out on -the open hillside. Now that she was actually among them, the -mountains towered about her in awful silence. The sky above and the -river below seemed alike distant. The sun had gone down, and she -stood there all alone in the midst of barren immensity. She took off -her hat, tossed back the hair from her heated forehead, and laughed -softly. - -But she was only now at the beginning of the walk she had planned, -and there was no time to lose. The path was, as she had thought, a -horse-track, and the walk involved no danger, so long as one did not -too entirely lose sight of one's footing in the grandeur of the -surroundings. Once she was almost startled by the sudden appearance -of a man a few yards in front of her, a visitor at the hotel, -probably, for he lifted his hat as he passed. - -"Of all the hundreds who are passing through Stalheim to-day," she -thought, "only one takes the trouble to come along here, out of the -eternal rush of kariols. What do they come to Norway for?" - -Every step of the walk was keen enjoyment. She had never allowed -herself to get out of touch with nature. "The 'man' shall not -'perceive it die away,'" she had said in the confidence of youth. -"Nature is jealous, I know, but she shall receive no cause of offence -from me. She was my first friend, and she shall be my last." - -She reached the tiny homestead she had seen from Stalheim, and she -waved her handkerchief for some minutes, looking in vain for an -answering signal. She was very near the Jördalsnut now, but to her -great disappointment she found herself separated from it by a yawning -valley which it was quite impossible to cross. The path by which she -had come was continued along the hillside into this valley, turning -upon itself almost at right angles. - -"It's clear I shall get nowhere near the dear old roundhead -to-night," she said, "but I may be able to see at least how the path -reaches it ultimately." - -She walked on for some time, however, without coming to any turning, -and her spirits began to flag. The whole scene had changed within -the last half-hour. The air was damp; poor-looking, half-grown trees -concealed the view; and the ground was covered with long, dank grass. - -"I suppose I must turn," she said regretfully. "I take five minutes' -rest, and then be off home." - -She seated herself on a great mossy boulder, and suddenly bethought -herself of Lucy's letter. The familiar handwriting and words looked -strangely out of place in this dreary solitude. - - -"MY DEAR MONA,--Perhaps you would like to know what I did when I read -your letter. I sat on the floor and _howled_! Not with -laughter,--don't flatter yourself that your witticisms had anything -to do with it. They only added insult to injury. Don't imagine -either that I mean to argue with you. It is impossible to influence -you when your decision is _right_; and when it is _wrong_, one might -as well reason with a mule. The idea! I told father you would walk -through the examination in January and take your final M.B., when I -did. It once or twice crossed my mind with horror that you might -content yourself with a Scotch 'Triple,' or even a beggarly L.S.A.; -but that you would be insane enough to chuck the whole thing, never -so much as entered my head. It is too absurd. Because, as you are -pleased to say, you have thrown three or four years of your life to -the pigs and whistles, is that any reason why you should throw a -fifth? - -"And have you really the conceit to suppose that you would make a -good barmaid--a profession that requires inborn talent and careful -cultivation? Can you flirt a little bit, may I ask? Could you flirt -if your life depended on it? Would anything ever teach you to flirt? -Personally I take the liberty of doubting it. I suppose you think -improving conversation and scientific witticisms will do equally -well, or better?--will amuse the men, and improve them at the same -time? _Gott bewahre!_ - -"Do you consider yourself even qualified to be a linen-draper's -shop-girl? Are you in the habit of submitting to the whims and -caprices of every Tom, Dick, and Harry who confers on you the favour -of bargaining with you for a good penny's-worth? Is it possible you -do not realise the extent to which you have always been--to use a -metaphor of your own--the positively electrified object in the -field?--how we have all meekly turned a negative side to you, and -have revenged ourselves by being positive to the rest of the world? -Can you hope to be a comfort even to your cousin? Do you think she -will enjoy being snubbed if she calls things 'stylish' or 'genteel'? -Do you imagine that 'Evenings with the Microscope' will fill the -place of a comfortable gossip about village nothings and nonentities? - -"Oh Mona, my friend, my wonderful, beautiful Mona, don't be an abject -idiot! Write to your cousin that you have been a fool, and let us -see your dear face in October. How is the School to get along -without you? - -"In any case, darling, write to me, and that right soon. Why did you -not tell me more about the Munros. The idea of dangling such a -delicious morsel as Sir Douglas before my eyes for a moment, only to -withdraw him again? How could you tantalise me so? You know -hot-tempered, military old Anglo-Indians are my _Schwärmerei_, &c., -&c., &c." - - -Mona laughed, but her eyes were full of tears. She was not seriously -moved by Lucy's letter but it depressed her sadly, and suggested food -for much reflection. She sat for a long time, her head resting on -her hand, her eyes fixed absently on the page before her. Suddenly -the sharp rap of a raindrop on the paper brought her to a -recollection of her surroundings, and she started to her feet in -alarm. It had grown strangely dark. She could see the mist -gathering even through the trees, and the rain was evidently coming -on in earnest. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -A SON OF ANAK. - -When she emerged into the comparative light and openness of the -Nærodal, she found, as she had feared, that the mist was creeping -rapidly down the hillsides. It was raining heavily, and she must -soon be enveloped in a thick, wet cloud. - -"I am an abject idiot, as you say, Lucy," she said, "but it was -mainly your fault this time." - -She hurried along in breathless haste, but she was soon obliged to -slacken her pace. Although the path was safe enough, it was broken -away in some places, and already she could scarcely see a yard in -front of her. - -"I don't mind the open hillside," she gasped, "but how I am to get -across an invisible plank, with an invisible torrent roaring down -below, heaven alone knows!" - -And indeed she did mind the open hillside very much. In the clear -daylight she had fancied herself half-way between earth and sky; now -she was standing on a single square yard of stony ground in a -universe of nothingness. - -"It is simply impossible that I can find my way through that wood," -she went on, becoming almost calm from very despair. "It was a pure -chance that I took the right path when the sun was shining." - -She had serious thoughts of deliberately spending the night on the -hillside, and even sat down for a few minutes on a dripping stone; -but her clothes were soaked through, and her teeth chattered with -cold, so she was forced to go on. - -"Shall I shout?" she thought. "No, I never shouted or screamed in my -life, and I don't mean to begin now." But she knew well that she -would have shouted eagerly enough, if there had been the faintest -chance of her being heard. It was useless to shout to the mists and -the barren hills. - -Then for the first time it occurred to her that her uncle would send -out a search-party; but, after the first rush of relief, this seemed -the worst fate of all. Anything would be better than all that fuss -and disturbance. It would be too humiliating to provide food for -days of exaggerated gossip in the hotel, to be constrained with much -penitence to curtail or forego her solitary walks. And it might all -have been so easily avoided if she had had her wits about her. "Oh -Lucy, I am an abject idiot!" she groaned. - -At this moment she fancied she heard a step on the stones some -distance behind her. Yes, there was no doubt of it. Some one was -coming. Uncertain whether to be relieved or more alarmed than -before, she stood still, her heart beating fast. The steps drew -nearer and nearer. It was horrible to feel a presence so close at -hand, and to strain her eyes in vain. In another moment a broad, -ruddy, reassuring face looked down at her like the sun through the -mist, and she drew a long breath of relief. - -"Bless my soul!" the owner of the face exclaimed, aghast at finding a -young girl in such a dangerous situation, "you don't mean to say you -are alone?" - -"Yes," laughed Mona. But the laugh was a very uncertain one, and -revealed much that she would rather have kept to herself. - -"Well, I am glad I have found you," he went on, shaking a shower of -water from his dripping straw hat. "I shouldn't like to think my -sister was out here alone on a night like this. Won't you take my -arm? I'm afraid you are very tired, and it can't be easy to walk -with your dress clinging to you so." - -Mona's cheek flushed, but she was glad to take his arm. His tall, -sturdy, tweeded figure belied the boyish, beardless face, and seemed -like a tower of strength. - -"You _have_ had a soaking," he went on, with a sort of brotherly -frankness which it was impossible to resent. "So have I, but -knickerbockers adapt themselves better to untoward circumstances than -your things. Am I walking too fast?" - -"Not a bit. I need not tell you that I shall be glad to get home." - -They both laughed at the equivocal compliment. - -"Were you afraid?" he asked presently. - -"Dreadfully," said Mona simply. "In fact," she added after a pause, -"I am ashamed now to think how unnerved I allowed myself to get." - -"Why--you had some cause. Few men would have strictly enjoyed the -situation. How far had you gone?" - -"I don't quite know. About a mile round the corner, I think. I was -among the trees and did not notice the mist. By the way--did you get -to the Jördalsnut?" - -"No: I left my portmanteau at the inn, and started with that -intention; but I went in for a bit of scrambling on this side of the -valley, and then the mist drove me home. I am very glad it drove me -to your assistance--not but what you would have got on all right -without me." - -"I can't tell you how glad _I_ am. I really don't know what I should -have done," and she raised her eyes to his with a frank look of -gratitude. - -He started, almost imperceptibly. There was a curious charm in that -honest un-selfconscious glance, but there was something more than -that. - -"You are not travelling alone, are you?" he asked, after a minute's -silence. - -"No, I am with my uncle and aunt. Sir Doug--my uncle usually walks -with me,--not that I think a chance accident like this is any -argument against my going about alone if I choose." - -There was no answer. He was looking at her in an interested way, as -if meditating the question profoundly. - -"Please don't tell any one you found me _in extremis_," she went on; -"it would be too great a disappointment to be obliged to give up my -solitary walks." - -"How can I tell any one what is not true?" he said, recovering -himself. "I did not find you in extremis at all. I did not even -know you were frightened till you laughed. You looked at me with -such dignified self-assurance when I hove in sight that I was more -than half inclined to lift my hat and pass on." - -Mona laughed incredulously. - -They trudged on for a time in silence. Once she looked up and found -his eyes fixed on her face with an expression of amusement. "It is -very odd," he said, finding himself caught. - -"What is?" - -"Oh, I don't know--the whole thing." - -He broke into a quiet laugh, and Mona joined in it from sympathy. He -was a curious creature this son of Anak, whose broad, glistening face -gleamed at her so benevolently through the mist. - -"Have you been long at Stalheim?" he asked. - -"Only a few days." - -"Is the hotel good?" - -"Ye-e-s. This part of Norway is in an awkward transition stage -between the primitive inn and the cosmopolitan hotel." - -"Are there many tourists?" - -"Oh yes! They go rushing through by hundreds every day. They stop -to smoke a cigar, eat a dinner, or sleep for a night, and then join -the mad chase of kariols again. They are noisy, too; my uncle gets -quite indignant at the way they clatter about the wooden floors in -their heavy boots, and shout their private affairs up-stairs and -down-stairs, or from the verandah to the road." - -"I suppose he does," and the son of Anak laughed again. - -The mist was beginning to clear by slow degrees when they came to the -crest of the abrupt descent that led to the torrent. - -"I can't tell you how I was dreading this part of the way," said Mona. - -"Were you? Well, I must say it is a case where two are better than -one. See, I will go first and hold out my hands behind me." - -They got across in safety, and in a wonderfully short time found -themselves on the road. - -"Don't you find it very dull here in the evening?" he asked. - -"No. But I can imagine any one would who was accustomed to being -amused." - -"You sit on the verandah, I suppose?" - -"Not on the one overlooking the Nærodal. There is such a crowd -there. We get one of the others to ourselves, and enjoy a cup of -coffee, and a chat, or a quiet rubber." - -"Now do get off those wet things instantly," he said as they drew -near the house, "and promise me that you will have a glass of hot -toddy or something equivalent. That's right!"--interrupting her -thanks--"don't stand there for a moment. I shall take the liberty of -presenting myself on the verandah after supper." - -Mona ran up-stairs with a smile, but his last words had caused her -some alarm. What sort of reception might he look for on the -verandah? Lady Munro was considered extremely "exclusive"; and as -for Sir Douglas, he classified the male tourists broadly as -"counter-jumpers," and was indignant if they so much as looked at his -niece and daughter. If her friend got a chance to speak for himself, -nobody could fail to see that he was a gentleman, and in that case -all would be well; but Sir Douglas was hasty, and not likely to -welcome advances from a complete stranger. - -"The fact is, I ought not to have hob-a-nobbed with him so," she -said. "I need not have let my gratitude and relief run away with me. -It is all my own fault. Yes, Lucy, I am an abject idiot!" - -"Oh, I am so glad to see you!" cried Evelyn as Mona entered the room -the cousins shared; "in another minute I should have told Mother." - -"Where is aunt Maud?" - -"She came in not long after you left, and has been asleep all the -afternoon, so there was no one to tell Father. I should have gone to -him in another minute. I have been so miserable." - -"Plucky little soul! And she has actually had the stove lighted! I -shall be dry in no time. Luckily, the mist is clearing every minute." - -"My Etna will be boiling directly, and I have got wine to make you -some negus. Oh, Mona, do make haste! What a state you are in!" - -Mona hastily exchanged her dripping clothes for a comfortable -dressing-gown, and after wringing out her long hair, she seated -herself by the stove, sipping her negus. - -"You must have been in fearful danger, I have imagined such things!" - -"Not a bit. A son of Anak came to my rescue; but more of that anon. -Get me out some clean things, like a darling." - -"What dress will you wear?" - -"Which of my evening gowns has my maid laid out?" laughed Mona. "Ah, -the delaine. Curious the partiality she shows for that delaine! Now -tell me exactly how much time I have. I don't want to lose a moment -of this _dolce far niente_, but I must not be late for supper, -whatever happens." - -She was not late. The bell rang just as she was fastening her brooch. - -"Got back, Mona?" said Lady Munro, emerging fresh and fragrant from -her room. - -"Yes, thank you." But before Mona had time to say more, Lady Munro -turned to speak to Sir Douglas. It was impossible to begin a long -story then. - -The sudden change in the weather had induced many of the tourists to -stay on, so the large dining-room was crowded. Mona just caught a -glimpse of the son of Anak at the opposite end of another table, and -she attempted once more to give a modified account of her afternoon's -adventure. But the Fates were against her. A well-known Edinburgh -professor was sitting opposite Sir Douglas, and the conversation -became general. - -"Let us hope he will give me five minutes' grace on the verandah," -she said resignedly; but she had just remarked, by way of -introduction, that the mist had almost entirely cleared, and Sir -Douglas was in the act of lighting his first cigar, when the door -opened, and her friend strode in with an air of infinite assurance. - -"Aunt Maud," she began, but her voice was drowned in a general -exclamation. - -"Why, Sahib!" "Dickinson Sahib! Where on earth did you drop from?" -"What a delightful surprise!" "Who would have thought of seeing you -here? Sit down and tell us all about it. Oh, I forgot--Mr -Dickinson, my niece, Miss Maclean." - -"I was sure of it," exclaimed the new-comer, shaking hands cordially -with the astonished Mona. "If I had met her in the wilds of Arabia, -I could have sworn that she was a relative of Lady Munro's." And -then the whole story came out, with modifications. - -"Well, I must say," said Mona, when the questioning and explanations -were over, "that you have treated me extremely badly." - -He laughed like a schoolboy. "I am sure you don't grudge me my very -small joke." - -"No--especially as it makes us quits. Now we can begin a new page." - -"I hope it may prove as pleasant as the first." - -"Prettily said, Sahib," said Lady Munro. "Now, be sensible and give -us an account of your eccentric movements." - -"Eccentric!" he said, meditating a far-fetched compliment, but he was -a sensible man and he thought better of it. "That's easily done. -One of my Scotch visits fell through--a death in the house--so I ran -over here for a few days. I thought I should probably run against -you,--they say people always do meet in Norway. Of course, I knew -you had sailed to Bergen." - -"And what is your route now?" - -"Is it for you to ask me that, as the filing said to the magnet?" - -Sir Douglas went in search of maps and guide-books, and Mr Dickinson -took a low chair beside Lady Munro. - -"I need not ask if you are enjoying your tour," he said. "You are -looking famously." - -"Oh yes, I think this primitive world quite charming, and the air is -so bracing! You have no idea what a pedestrian I have become. When -Mona and my husband go off on breakneck excursions, Evelyn and I walk -for hours--the whole day long nearly." - -Mona looked up hastily. She had never heard of these wonderful -walks; but her eyes met Evelyn's, and her question died on her lips. - -"And Sir Douglas?" asked Mr Dickinson. - -Lady Munro laughed, a low sweet laugh. "Oh, of course, he always -grumbles; he says he has lived on roast leather and boiled flannel -ever since we came. But he is enjoying himself immensely. It is a -great thing for him to have Mona's company, as indeed it is for all -of us. I am afraid she finds us dreadfully stupid. You have no idea -what books she reads." - -"At the present moment," said Mona gravely, "I am reading _Moths_." - -Everybody laughed. - -"Then you are meditating a cutting critique," said her aunt. - -"I am reading the book simply and entirely for amusement," said Mona. -"I am getting a little tired of ormolu and marqueterie, but one can't -have everything one wants." - -"But you don't really care for Ouida?" said the Sahib seriously. - -Mona sighed. "If you force me to be critical," she said, "I do -prefer sunlight, moonlight, or even glaring gaslight. Ouida takes -one into a dark room, and, through a hole in the shutter, she flashes -a brilliant gleam of light that never was on sea or land. But what -then? She is a very clever woman, and she knows how to set about -telling a story. One admires her power and _esprit_, one skips her -vulgar descriptions, and one lets her morality alone." - -Lady Munro laughed rather uneasily. She would not have owned to any -man that she read Ouida, and Mona puzzled her. "After all, the child -has been so buried in her studies," she thought, "that she knows -nothing of the world. She will learn not to say _risqué_ things to -men, and, fortunately, it is only the Sahib." - -Sir Douglas returned, and the conversation resolved itself into a -discussion of routes and steamers. - -"I will not sleep again at that horrid noisy Voss," he said. "We -must lunch and change horses there, and get on to Eide the same -night." - -"Can you be ready to start at eight?" said the Sahib to Lady Munro. - -"Oh dear, yes! I am up every morning hours before that." - -Sir Douglas laughed cynically. - -"Who is Mr Dickinson?" said Mona, when she and Evelyn had retired to -their room. - -"Deputy-Commissioner of--I always forget the name of the place." - -"Never mind. Boggley Wallah will do equally well for me. And why do -they call him Sahib? I thought everybody was a Sahib?" - -"His family call him that for a joke, and it has stuck somehow. It -was because he was very young when he got some appointment or other." - -"He looks a mere boy now." - -"I think he is thirty-three." - -"I wish you would not tell him that I am a medical student; I don't -feel that I have done credit to my cloth. I should not like him to -think medical women were muffs." - -"Oh, Mona, I do wish you would not be a medical woman, as you call -it. Why don't you marry?" - -"'Nobody axed me, sir, she said.' At least nobody that I call -anybody." - -"If you would go out to India, somebody would ask you every week of -your life." - -"Thanks. Even that is not absolutely my ideal of blessedness." - -"But you don't want to be an old maid?" - -"That expression is never heard now outside the walls of a ladies' -boarding-school," said Mona severely. "Oh, my dear, at the romantic -age of seventeen you cannot even imagine how much I prize my liberty; -how many plans I have in my head that no married woman could carry -out. It seems to me that the unmarried woman is distinctly having -her innings just now. She has all the advantages of being a woman, -and most of the advantages of being a man. I don't see how it can -last. Let her make hay while the sun shines. - - 'Ergreife die Gelegenheit! Sie kehret niemals wieder.'" - - -"Well, I know I should be very disappointed, if I thought I should -never have little children of my own." - -"O Maternity, what crimes are perpetrated in thy name! Mothering is -woman's work without a doubt, but she does not need to have children -of her own in order to do it. You dear little soul! Never mind me. -I wish you as many as you will wish for yourself when the time comes, -and a sweet little mother they will have!" - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -BONS CAMARADES. - -"Nonsense!" - -"Fact, my dear fellow! I knew it before I knew her, or I simply -should never have believed it It's an awful shock to one's theories, -don't you know?--one's views of womanliness and all that sort of -thing. I have thought about it till I am tired, and I can't make it -out; but upon my soul, Dickinson, you may say what you like, the -girl's a brick." - -"I'm quite sure of that already, and I'm sure she's clever enough for -anything." - -"Oh--clever, yes! But clever women don't need to--but there! I -can't go into all that again. I simply give the subject up. Don't -mention it to me again." - -"But you know I am a staunch believer in women doctors. When my -sister was so ill, the doctor at the station said she would be an -invalid for life, and a staff surgeon who was passing through said -the same. As a last resource I got a woman doctor to come a hundred -miles to see her, and she brought Lena round in a few weeks. She -knew her business, but--she was very different from Miss Maclean." - -"Wasn't she? That's just it! Oh, I know they're a necessary evil. -I should like to see a man doctor look at my Evelyn, except for a -sore throat or a cut finger! I have always upheld the principle, in -spite of the sacrifice involved; but how could I tell that any of my -own womankind would take it up? You see, she was left so much to her -own resources, poor child! There was no one to warn her of what it -all meant. I reproach myself now for not having looked after her -more; but how on earth could I know that she was going to turn out -anything in particular? Gad! Dickinson, when I think of all that -girl must know, it makes me sick--sick; but when I am speaking to -her--upon my soul, I don't believe it has done her a bit of harm!" - -The entrance of Mona and Evelyn into the sunny breakfast-room -interrupted the conversation for a moment, and it was presently -resumed in a lighter and more frivolous vein over the trout and the -coffee. - -"Oh, trout, yes!" said Sir Douglas. "I never said anything against -the trout. If it were not for that, we should all be reduced to skin -and bone. Evelyn, where _is_ your mother?" - -It was eight o'clock, and the calesch stood at the door, when Lady -Munro appeared, serene and smiling; and then Evelyn and Mona had to -hurry away and pack her valise for her. - -"You know I've been up for hours," she said, with a charming nod to -the Sahib, as she seated herself at the table, "but I began to write -some letters----" - -"Humph!" said Sir Douglas, and shrugging his shoulders, he abruptly -left the room. - -When the tardy valise was at last roped on to the calesch, and the -_portier_ was opening the door, the young Norwegian landlady came up -shyly to Lady Munro. - -"Will you haf?" she said in her pretty broken English, holding out a -large photograph of the hotel, with its staff on the doorstep. - -Never had Lady Munro smiled more sweetly. - -"Is that really for me? How very kind! I cannot tell you how much I -shall prize it as a memento of a charming visit. Why, I can -recognise all of you!" and she looked round at the worshipping -servants. - -A minute later they drove off in state, with Nubboo enthroned on the -box in front, and Dickinson Sahib following on in a kariol behind. - -It was a glorious summer morning. Not a trace of mist or cloud -lingered about the hillsides; the Nærodal was once more asleep in -sunshine and shadow. - -"Well, I am sure we shall not soon forget Stalheim," said Lady Munro. -"It has been quite a new experience." - -"Quite," agreed Sir Douglas. "It has been an absolutely new -experience to me to see a hard-worked horse go up a hen's ladder to -bed, with only a bundle of hay for supper, and never a touch from his -groom. It is astonishing what plucky little beasts they are in spite -of it." - -"Now don't enjoy the scenery too much," said the Sahib, driving up -alongside. "You have been over this ground before, and human nature -cannot go on enjoying keenly all day long. Save yourselves for the -afternoon. The drive from Voss to Eide is one of the finest things -in Norway." - -And so it proved. For the first few miles after they left -Vossevangen, they drove through pine-woods and dripping cliffs, where -every tiny ledge had its own tuft of luxuriant mosses; and then -suddenly, at full speed, they began the descent to the sea-level. - -"How _dreadfully_ dangerous!" exclaimed Lady Munro. - -"As good as a switchback," laughed Evelyn. - -"What engineers those fellows must be!" said Sir Douglas admiringly, -as every turn brought them in sight of the two great waterfalls, and -their faces were drenched with spray. - -"It is like going round and round the inside of a mighty chalice," -said Mona. - -And so it was; but the sides of the chalice were one living mass of -the most glorious green, almost every square yard of which would have -made a picture by itself. - -When they reached the bottom, the driver suddenly dismounted, and -proceeded to occupy himself with a piece of string and the -weather-beaten straps that did duty for traces. - -"Harness--broke!" he said calmly. - -"The deuce it has!" exclaimed Sir Douglas. "I think you might have -found that out at the top of the hill. Do you suppose our necks are -of no more value than your own? Nubboo, just see that it is all -right now." - -"How horrible!" and Lady Munro shuddered. - -Nubboo delivered a lengthy report in his native language, and Sir -Douglas shrugged his shoulders resignedly. - -"We must just chance it," he said. "I daresay it will be all right." - -"How _horrible_!" repeated Lady Munro. - -But they reached Eide without further accident, although rain fell -steadily during the last hour of the drive. - -It is the pleasant and primitive practice at Eide, especially in -rainy weather, for the visitors to assemble in the large -entrance-hall and verandah to watch the arrival of new-comers. - -"If the show had been got up expressly for their benefit, and they -had duly paid for their seats, they could not stare more frankly, -could they?" laughed the Sahib, as he helped the ladies out of the -calesch. "There is not an atom of concealment about it." - -"Great privilege for us, upon my soul, to afford so much -entertainment!" growled Sir Douglas. - -"Won't you come for a turn in the garden before you go up-stairs?" -the Sahib asked Mona, when the question of rooms had been settled. -"We have five minutes to spare before supper, and there is a fine -view of the fjord." - -"But alack! what a change after dear, rugged old Stalheim!" she said, -as they strolled down to the water's edge. "This might almost be an -Interlaken garden." - -"Quite tropical, isn't it? But look at the fjord!" - -It spread out before them in a soft, hazy golden light, and the tiny -waves broke gently on the steps at their feet. - -Mona's face kindled. She did not think it necessary to speak. - -"And yet," she said a minute later, "it is a cruel fjord. It is -going to take us back to civilisation again." And then she could -scarcely repress a laugh. Civilisation, indeed! Civilisation in a -small shop at Borrowness! - -He looked at her quickly. Did she repent of the life-work she had -chosen? - -"In the stores of your knowledge," he asked presently, his eyes on -the hills, "do you include geology?" - -"Among the rags and tags of my information," she replied, "I do not." -"Oh, Sir Douglas, Sir Douglas," she thought, "you faithless knight!" - -"I seem to have put my foot in it," he thought vaguely, "but I cannot -imagine how." And so he proceeded to do it again. - -"They have a lot of quaint old silver rings at the hotel," he said, -as they turned back, "and other ancient Norwegian curios. I should -like your opinion of them. Are you an authority on the subject?" - -"Far from it," she said. "But I should like very much to see them, -and to compare the things I like with the things I ought to like. -Pray," she added, with an expression of almost childlike entreaty, -"don't let any one persuade you that I am a learned woman. I wish -with all my heart that I were, but I'm not, and I can't bear to feel -like a hypocrite." - -"I don't think any one will ever take you for _that_," he said, -smiling. - -"I suppose it must be my own fault," she went on, with curious -impulsiveness, not heeding his remark. "I suppose my manner is -dogmatic and priggish. But what can I do? When I am interested in a -subject, I can't stop to think about my manner." - -"If I might venture to advise," he said, "I should certainly say, -'Don't attempt it.'" - - -The next day they sailed for Odde. The fjord was smooth as glass, -and every hamlet and tree on the peaceful hillsides was reflected in -the water. It was a day for dreaming rather than for talking, and -they scarcely spoke, save when each bay and gorge brought into view a -fresh spur of the mighty glacier. - -Early in the afternoon they reached Odde, beautiful Odde!--lying -close to the edge of the fjord, embraced by the wooded hills, with -pretty yachts and steamers at anchor in its bay, and the glacier -looking coldly down from the great ice-sea above. - -"We might almost be in England again," said Lady Munro, as they sat -at lunch in the dining-room of the Hardanger. - -"Yes, indeed," said Sir Douglas. "Civilised notions, half-a-dozen -people in the place that one knows, two--actually two--shops, and -_dinners_? Evelyn, you had better take a kariol and a tiger, and go -shopping on the Boulevard!" - -"I was just going to ask for your purse," said Evelyn calmly; "there -are no end of things that I want to buy." - -Finally, they betook themselves to the shops _en famille_, and a -scene of reckless expenditure ensued. Sir Douglas heaped presents on -"the girls," as he called Mona and Evelyn, and Lady Munro seemed to -be in a fair way to buy up the whole shop. - -"These old silver things are so pretty," she said childishly. - -"And, at worst, they will do for bazaars," added Evelyn. - -The saleswoman became more and more gracious. She had considerable -experience in serving tourists who, with reminiscences of a previous -summer in Switzerland or Italy, offered her "a pound for the lot," -and her manner had acquired some asperity in consequence; but she -quickly adapted herself to the people with whom she had to deal. - -Mona watched her with a curious interest and fellow-feeling. "I -ought to be picking up hints," she thought, with a smile. "I -certainly might have a much worse teacher." - -"Let me see. That's eleven and a half kroner," said a showy-looking -man, taking a handful of gold and silver from his pocket. "I'll give -you ten shillings." - -No answer. - -"Will you take ten shillings?" - -"No, sir," very quietly. - -He frowned. "Eleven shillings?" - -"No, sir." - -"What do you throw off?" - -"Not--anything, sir," in slow but very unmistakable English. - -He flounced out of the shop, leaving the things lying on the counter. - -Not a muscle of the young woman's face changed, as she quietly -returned the pretty toys to their place on the shelves. - -"_Brava!_" said Mona to herself. - -"A penny for your thoughts, Mona dear," said Evelyn's quiet voice a -minute later. "Mr Dickinson has asked you twice how you like this -old chatelaine. He wants to buy it for his sister." - -Mona laughed and blushed. - -"My thoughts are worth more than a penny," she said,--"to me at -least." In point of fact, she was wondering whether it would be a -part of her duty to say "Sir" and "Madam" to her customers at -Borrowness. - -In the course of the afternoon the Munros met a number of friends and -acquaintances, and the next few days passed gaily away in excursions -of all kinds. Night after night the party came home, sunburnt and -stiff, but not too tired to enjoy a bright discussion across the -pleasant dinner-table. There was nothing very profound about these -conversations. Everybody had toiled and climbed enough during the -day. Now they were content to fly lightly from crag to crag over a -towering difficulty, or to cross a yawning problem on a rainbow -bridge. - -But after all, they were happy, and the world was not waiting in -suspense for their conclusions. - -Sunday morning came round all too soon, and on Monday the Munros were -to sail for Bergen. Mona was sitting alone on the verandah, watching -the people coming to church. The fjord lay sparkling in the -sunshine, and from every hamlet and homestead along the coast, as far -as the eye could reach, boats were setting out for Odde. As they -drew in to the pier, the voluminous white sleeves, stiff halo-like -caps, and brilliant scarlet bodices, made a pretty foreground of -light and colour in the landscape. - -But in the midst of her enjoyment Mona drew a long, deep, heartfelt -sigh. - -A little later Evelyn joined her. "I have been looking for you -everywhere, Mona," she said. "Mr Dickinson has set his heart on -going to the Buarbrae glacier to-day. The others all went before we -came, and I think it would be insane to tire ourselves the last day. -Father says he has not got over that 'Skedaddle' waterfall yet. You -don't care to go, do you?" - -Mona's eyes were still fixed on the fjord. - -"Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die," she said half absently. -"I will go with all the pleasure in life." - -"Don't be profane, Mona. You are the queerest, cleverest girl that -ever lived." - -Mona laughed. "I don't consider that I am queer," she said; "I have -good reason to know that I'm not clever; and all the world can see -that I am not a girl. Otherwise, your description is correct. My -compliments to the Sahib, and, if it please his Majesty to take me, I -shall be only too glad to go." - -"No doubt it will please his Majesty. You should hear how he speaks -to Mother about you. You will soon be on a par with that wonderful -sister of his. I think he talks too much about his sister, don't -you?" - -"No. He is among friends. I don't suppose he would do it in a -scoffing world. Evelyn, dear, there is no use telling you not to -grow cynical. We all do in this used-up age. Cheap, shallow, -cynical talk is the shibboleth of the moment, and if we are at all -sensitive, it is a necessary armour. But don't carry it into your -immediate circle. In heaven's name, let us live frankly and simply -at home, or life will indeed be apples of Sodom." - -Evelyn looked rather blank. She did not know very well what all this -meant, and still less could she see what it had to do with Mr -Dickinson's sister. But she felt rebuked, and the words lingered in -her memory. - -In five minutes more the Sahib and Mona set off. - -"What magnificent training you are in!" he said admiringly, as he -watched her lithe young figure mount the hill at his side. "Your -walking has improved immensely in the last week." - -"Yes; one does get rather flabby towards the end of term, in spite of -such specifics as tennis. But I don't think the circumstances of our -first meeting were very conducive to a just estimate of my powers." - -They both laughed at the recollection. - -"What an age ago that seems!" he said. - -"I am sorry the time has dragged so heavily." - -"Nay. The difficulty is to believe that ten days ago I did not know -you. Now turn and look behind." - -The village had sunk picturesquely into the perspective of the -landscape. Beside them the river surged down over the rocks and -boulders to the fjord, and the sound of church bells came through the -still summer air. - -"This is better than being in church," he said. - -"Much;--especially when one understands nothing of what is going on. -But I am glad I have seen a Norwegian service. It is so simple and -primitive, and besides"--she laughed--"I have a mental picture now of -Kjelland's Morten Kruse." - -"I do go to church as a rule," he said. "In India I consider it a -duty." - -Mona raised her eyebrows. "I go to church as a rule, too," she said. -"But it never occurred to me to look upon it in the light of a duty." - -"Don't you think that in that, as in other things, one has to think -of one's neighbours?" - -"I can't bear the word 'duty' in such a connection. It seems to me, -too, that the Spirit of Praise and Prayer bloweth where it listeth. -One cannot command it with mathematical precision at eleven o'clock -on Sunday morning. The Spirit of Praise comes when one is alone in a -world like this. I think we lose our individuality when there is -nothing human near to remind us of it, and become as much a part of -this great throbbing glorying Nature as the trees and the grass are." - -"And the Spirit of Prayer?" - -Mona smiled. - -"The story of that," she said, "is written on each man's white stone." - -"And yet, if most people act on that principle," he said, "they are a -little apt to lose the Spirit of Praise and Prayer altogether. Don't -you think so?" - -Mona did not answer the question for a moment. Then she met the eyes -that were fixed on her face. "Yes," she said frankly, "I do." - -They walked on for a few minutes in silence. - -"And may I ask what you do go to church for?" he said at last. -"Don't answer if I take a liberty in asking." - -"You don't at all; but it is a little difficult to say. I believe I -go to church in order to get some one to think beautiful thoughts for -me. When one's life is busy with work that takes all one's -brain-power, there is little energy left with which to think -beautiful thoughts. One loses sight of the ideal in the actual. I -go to church in order to keep hold of it. If I were a seamstress I -should probably go out among the hills on Sunday morning and think my -beautiful thoughts for myself." - -"You make it, in fact, a question of the division of labour. We are -to buy our beautiful thoughts ready-made as we buy our boots, because -a complicated state of society leaves us no time to make them." - -"Precisely; and yet we are not exactly to buy them ready-made. I -think it is Robertson who says that a thought is of no use to us, -however beautiful, unless it is in a sense our own,--unless it makes -us feel that we have been groping round it unconsciously, and all but -grasping it. We cry 'Eureka!' when a beautiful thought strikes home, -and we become aware for the first time that we have been in search of -something. The moral of all this is, that our priest or preacher -must be a man with a mind akin to our own, moving on the same plane, -but if possible with a wider radius. This granted, his sect and -creed are matters of infinitely little moment." - -"But it seems to me that books would serve your purpose as well as -sermons?" - -"They serve the same purpose," she said; "but I am a strong believer -in mesmeric influence, in the force of personality. Other things -being equal, a voice impresses me much more than a printed page. Oh, -I don't place sermons in a unique position by any means, or even -sermons and books. It is very much a question of keeping 'a border -of pinks round the potato-patch.' All the endless things that open -up our horizon might be classed together; they would differ only as -to the direction in which they open up the horizon. It is quite true -in one sense that I go to church for the same reason that I go to the -theatre--to keep myself from getting worldly; but a good sermon--I -say a _good_ sermon--has a more direct bearing on the ordinary -affairs of life. In fact, it helps us to see not only the ideal, -but, as I said before, the ideal in the actual." - -"I think I see what you mean, although theatres are not commonly -supposed to serve the purpose of keeping one unspotted from the -world." - -"It seems to me that one can get worldly over anything, from -ballet-dancing to sweeping a room, if one does not see beyond it. -There is another side to the 'trivial round, the common task' -question, true and beautiful as Keble's poem is. Worldliness seems -to me to be entirely a question of getting into a rut." - -"All you say is very fine," he said; "but, with the curious -provincialism of a Londoner--seen from the Anglo-Indian point of -view--you are assuming that one has an unlimited number of preachers -from whom to choose. What would you do if you were thrown back on -one poor specimen of the 'fag end of the clergy'?" - -Mona raised her eyes in surprise. - -"I should never dream of going to church at all," she said, "unless -there was something to be gained from the service." - -"And suppose you were in India, where the lives of the English do not -exactly tend to bear out the teaching of the missionaries?" - -"I should remember that it must be very poor teaching which would be -borne out by hypocrisy on my part." - -"You would not go for the sake of example?" - -"Most assuredly not. I don't believe in conscious influence." - -They had come in sight of the Sandven-vand, and the little steamer -stood at the pier. There were several other passengers on deck, so -further conversation was impossible till they reached the other side. -Then they made their way through the quaint old village, and up the -bank of the river towards the glacier. Already it was in full view. -Wooded hills closed in the valley on either side, and right in front -of them the outlet was blocked, as it were, by a glowing, dazzling -mountain of ice, snow-white under the cloudless blue sky. - -"Oh, I am so glad we came!" And all the light from sky and glacier -seemed reflected in Mona's face. - -"I thought so," he said, well pleased. "I was sure it would be worth -while." - -Presently the view was hidden, as they passed under the trees that -overarched the river. - -"In fact," he said suddenly, as if the conversation had never been -interrupted, "you don't believe in letting your light shine before -men?" - -"_That_ I do!" she answered warmly. "I believe in letting a clear, -steady, unvarying light fall alike on the evil and the good. I do -not believe in running hysterically round with a farthing dip into -every nook and cranny where we think some one may be guided by it." - -"You are severe," he said quietly. - -"Forgive me!" said Mona. "In truth, it is the metaphor that is too -heavy for me: Fools and firearms--'the proverb is something musty.' -Let me choose a weapon that I can use, and you will see what I mean. - -"Let us say that each man's life is a garden, which he is called upon -to cultivate to the best of his ability. Which do you think will do -it best,--the man who, regardless of how his garden looks from the -road, works honestly and systematically, taking each bed in its turn; -or the man who constantly says, 'A. will be coming down the highroad -to-day; I must see that the rose-bed is in good condition: or, B. -will be looking over the hedge, I must get that turnip-patch -weeded,'--and so on?" - -It was some time before he answered. - -"I think you are a little one-sided, if you will excuse my saying so." - -"Please don't talk like that. How could I help being grateful for an -honest opinion?--the more unlike my own, the better for me. Was I -dogmatic again? Please remember that, whatever I say, I am feeling -after the truth all the time." - -He looked at her, smiling. - -"But such as your metaphor is, let us carry it a little bit farther. -Let us suppose that your garden is laid out in a land where the soil -is poor and the people are starving. You know of a vegetable which -would abundantly repay the trouble of cultivation, and would make all -the difference between starvation and comparative comfort; but no one -will believe in it. We will suppose that you yourself have ample -means of livelihood, and are not dependent on any such thing. Would -you not, nevertheless, sacrifice the symmetry of your flower-beds and -grow my imaginary vegetable, if only to convince 'A. who comes down -the highroad, and B. who looks over the hedge,' that starvation is -needless?" - -Mona smiled and held out her hand. - -"Well said!" she cried cordially. "A good answer, and given with my -own clumsy weapon. I admit that I would try to exercise 'conscious -influence' in the very rare cases in which I felt called upon to be a -reformer. But I am glad that is not required of me in the matter of -church-going." - -"And the whole, wide, puzzling subject of Compromise?" he said. "Is -there nothing in that?" - -Mona's face became very grave. "Yes," she said, "there is a great -deal in that--though I believe, as some one says, that we studiously -refrain from hurting people in the first instance, only to hurt them -doubly and trebly when the time comes--there is a great deal in the -puzzling subject of Compromise; but it has not come much into my -life. There has been no one to care----" - -Suddenly she laughed again and changed the subject abruptly. - -"It is so odd," she said, "so natural, so like our humanity, that we -should argue like this--you in favour of conscious influence, I -against it--and I make not the smallest doubt that your life is -incomparably simpler, franker, more straightforward than mine." - -"That I do not believe," he said emphatically. - -She looked at him with interest. - -"I suppose you really don't. I suppose you are quite unconscious of -being a moral Antiseptic?" - -"A _what_?" he asked with pretended horror. "It doesn't sound very -nice." - -"Doesn't it? I should think it must be rather nice to make the world -sweeter, sounder, wholesomer, simply by being one's self." - -"Miss Maclean--you are very kind!" - -"I wish I could say the same of you! I call it most unkind to make -that conventional remark in response to a simple and candid statement -of a fact." - -"It was not conventional. I meant it. It is most kind of a man's -friends to give expression now and then to the good things they think -about him. One almost wonders why they do it so seldom. The world -is ready enough to give him the other side of the question. The -truth is--I was thinking how very difficult it would be to formulate -a definition of you." - -Mona put her fingers in her ears with unaffected alarm. - -"Oh, please don't," she said. "That would be a mean revenge indeed. -It is one thing to say frankly the thought that is in our mind, and -quite another to go afield in search of our opinion of a friend. -There is a crude brutality about the latter process." - -"True," he said. "And I did not mean to attempt it. In fact, I -should not dream of pigeon-holing you." - -"You _are_ unkind to-day. Did I deny that you were fifty other -things besides an Antiseptic? and may not an Antiseptic have fifty -other chemical properties even more important than that one? Who -talks of _pigeon-holing_?" - -"You must have the last word, I see." - -"Womanlike!" she said, pretending to sneer. - -"Womanlike!" he repeated mischievously. - -"And now, pray note that _I_ have presented you with the last word. -Any woman could answer that taunt. Instead, I inquire what that -shanty on the hill is?" - -"That shanty, as you are pleased to call it, is the hotel and -restaurant of the place. Shall we have lunch now, or after we have -been on the glacier?" - -"Oh, after! I cannot rest until I have felt the solid ice under my -feet." - -This proved to be no very easy achievement; but after a good deal of -climbing, Mona's ambition was realised. Then they scrambled down to -watch the water surging out from under the deep blue arches; and at -last, tired and dishevelled, they betook themselves to the inn. - -"I hope you are as hungry as I am," he said, with the old boyish -manner, "and I hope we shall find something we can eat." - -The "shanty" was clean and airy, with well-scoured floors, but the -remains of lunch on the table certainly did not look very -inviting,--a few transparent slices of Gruyère cheese, which seemed -to have been all holes, some uninteresting-looking biscuits, and -doubtful sausage. - -"Have you coffee and eggs?" asked the Sahib. "Ah--that will do, -won't it?" - -"Coffee and eggs are food for the gods," said Mona. - -"Or would be, if they did not spoil their appetites with nectar and -ambrosia," he corrected; and they laughed and talked over the -impromptu meal like a couple of children. - -"How many ladies are there studying medicine just now?" asked the -Sahib as they walked slowly homewards. - -"Women? I don't quite know. About a hundred in the country, I -should think." - -"And what do the--I am afraid I had almost said the stronger sex--say -to this infringement of their imagined rights?" - -Mona looked at his stalwart, athletic figure. - -"Pray don't apologise for calling them the stronger sex to me," she -said, laughing. "I am not at all disposed to try my strength against -yours. Oh, of course there was immense opposition at first. That is -matter of history now. But it would be difficult to exaggerate the -kindness and helpfulness of most of the younger men; and a few of the -older ones have been heroes all along." - -"That is a 'good hearing.' Then do you think it could all have been -managed without opposition, by dint of a little waiting?" - -"_That_ I don't!" she answered warmly. "The first women, who were -determined not merely to creep in themselves but to open up the way -for others, must have suffered obloquy and persecution from all but -the very few, at any time. If the lives of a little band of women--I -had almost said if the life of _one_ woman--could be blotted out, I -wonder how many of us would have the courage to stand where we now -do? It is a pretty and a wonderful sight, perhaps, to see a band of -young girls treading the uphill path and singing as they go. 'How -easy it is,' they say, 'and how sweet we make it with our flowers!' -No doubt they do, and heaven bless them for it! But it has always -seemed to me that the bit of eternal work was the making of the road." - -She spoke with so much earnestness that the Sahib was almost uneasy. - -"That is more than true," he said warmly. "It is the working of a -universal principle. You know," he added shyly, "if you were, going -to take to a public life, I wonder you did not think of the platform." - -"The _platform_!" Mona laughed merrily. "If you put me on the -platform with an audience in front of me, I should do what a -fellow-student tells me she did on receipt of my last letter--'sit on -the floor and howl'!" - -They both laughed. This anti-climax brought them comfortably down to -everyday life again, and they talked about pleasant nothings for the -rest of the way. - -"Look here, Dickinson," said Sir Douglas, when they entered the -hotel; "I won't have you walking off with Mona for a whole day -together. She is my property. Do you hear?" - -"I am sure it was I who discovered her on the hillside," - -Mona held up her finger protestingly. - -"Oh, I am Sir Douglas's invention, without a doubt," she said, -putting her hand affectionately within her uncle's arm; "you only -rediscovered me accidentally. What a pity it is that every great -invention cannot speak for itself and give honest men their due!" - -The Sahib was very silent as he sat in the smoking-room that evening. -He held a newspaper before him, for he did not wish to be disturbed; -but he was not reading. - -In India he was looked upon almost as a woman-hater, so little did he -care for the society of the young girls who came out there; and -Mona's "cleverness" and culture, her earnest views of life, and the -indefinable charm of manner which reminded him of Lady Munro, had all -combined to make his short friendship with her a very genuine -pleasure. Already he found himself thinking half-a-dozen times a -day, "I wonder what Miss Maclean would say about this," or "I shall -ask Miss Maclean her opinion of that;" and yet what a curious girl -she was! It was a new experience to him to be told by an attractive -young woman that he was a "moral Antiseptic"; and, in short, she -puzzled him. Women always are a _terra incognita_ to men, as men are -to women, as indeed every individual soul is to every other; but it -might have been well for both of them if the Sahib could have read -Mona at that moment even as well as she read him. He would have seen -that she looked upon him precisely as she looked upon the women who -were her friends; that it never occurred to her that he was man, and -she woman, and that nothing more was required for the enaction of the -time-worn drama; that, although she had taken no school-girl vow -against matrimony, the idea of it had never seriously occupied her -mind, so full was that mind of other thoughts and plans. He would -have seen that the excitement and enthusiasm of adolescence had taken -with her the form of an earnest determination to live to some good -purpose; and that the thousand tastes and fancies, which had grouped -themselves around this central determination, were not allowed -seriously to usurp its place for a moment. - -But he did not see. He could only infer, and guess, and wonder. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -DORIS. - -The steamer was fast approaching Newcastle. - -They had had some very rough weather, but now the sea was like a -mill-pond, and the whole party was sitting on deck under an awning. - -"Well, Mona dear," said Lady Munro, "I am sure I don't know how we -are to say good-bye to you." - -"_Don't!_" entreated Mona. "You make me feel that I must find words -in which to thank you, and indeed I can't!" - -Her sensitive lips quivered, and Sir Douglas uttered a sympathetic -grunt. - -"You really must spend a month with us on the Riviera at Christmas," -went on her aunt. "We will take no refusal." - -"_Do!_" said Evelyn, putting her arm round her cousin's waist. - -"Thank you very much," and Mona's eyes looked eloquent thanks; "but -it is quite out of the question." - -"I have put my hand to the plough," she thought, "and I don't mean to -look back. Six months it shall be, at the very least." - -"And what is a month," growled Sir Douglas, "when we want her -altogether! I am afraid I promised that her incomings and outgoings -should be without let or hindrance as heretofore--old fool that I -was!--but how could I tell how indispensable she was going to make -herself?" - -"I wish you would not talk so," said Mona. "I have never in all my -life been so disgracefully spoilt as during the last fortnight. I -should get simply unbearable if I lived with you much longer." - -"The fact is," continued Sir Douglas, looking at his wife, "the -greatest mistake of our married life has been that Mona did not come -to us ten years ago, when your mother died." - -"I don't fancy Mona thinks so," said Lady Munro, smiling at her niece. - -"No," said Mona, and the slight flush on her cheek showed that her -frankness cost her an effort. "It is good for a man to bear the yoke -in his youth. If I had not known hardship sometimes, and loneliness -often, I could not have appreciated as I have done the infinite -enjoyment of the last fortnight." - -"The fact is, you bear the yoke a deal too much," said her uncle. -"Bless my soul! you're only a girl yet, and you can only be young -once. And now you are going to mope, mope, mope, over your books." - -"You know I am going to my cousin in the first instance." - -"Yes--for a few weeks, I suppose! By the way, can't you get out of -that? I am sure we want you a great deal more than she does." - -"Oh no," said Mona hastily. "I can't get out of that even if I -wished to." - -"If you were cut out for a common drudge, I should not mind," he went -on; "but with your gifts---- Do you know, there is nothing to hinder -your being a great social success?" - -"Oh, indeed there is!" exclaimed Mona. "You have made me very happy, -and I have shown my gratitude by forgetting my own existence, and -talking a great deal too much. But when my friends want to show me -off, and beg me to talk--with the best will in the world, I seem -unable to utter a word." - -"No wonder, when you live the life of a hermit. But if you gave your -mind to it----" - -Mona opened her lips to speak, and then thought better of it. There -was no need to say that, at the best, social success seemed a poor -thing to give one's mind to; attractive enough, no doubt, so long as -it was unattained; but when attained, as the sole result of years of -effort, nothing but Dead Sea fruit. - -Sir Douglas got up and offered her his arm without speaking. They -walked up and down the deck together. - -"Where are your cigars?" she said. "I am sure you want one." - -"I don't," he said irritably. "I want you." But he allowed her to -get one out of his case for him nevertheless. - -"And now, Mona," he said more amiably, "I want you to tell me all -about your money affairs--what you have got, how it is invested, and -who looks after it for you." - -"You are very kind," she said gratefully; "but please don't suppose I -was thinking of money when I talked of hardship. I am quite a -Croesus now. I had to be very careful for a year or two, while -things were unsettled." - -"And why the deuce did not you write to me? What did you suppose you -had an uncle for? What is the use of your coming to us now, when you -are quite independent and we can do nothing for you?" - -Mona pressed his hand affectionately in both of here. - -"The use is problematical from your point of view, I confess, but -from mine it is infinite. You have made me fancy myself a girl -again." - -"And what are you but a girl! But come along, I am to hear all about -your money." - -And they entered into a long and involved discussion. - -The Sahib meanwhile was looking on in a mood as nearly approaching -ill-humour as was possible to him. If Lady Munro and Mona had both -been available, he might have been in some doubt as to which he -should converse with; but Sir Douglas had settled the question by -monopolising Mona, and she had become proportionately desirable in -his eyes. He persuaded himself that he had fifty things to say to -her on this the last day of their companionship, and he considered -himself much aggrieved. Moreover, Mona seemed to be submitting to a -lecture, and the docile, affectionate smile on her face seemed -strangely attractive to the neglected man. - -Every moment his irritation increased, and when at last--with -Newcastle well in sight--Mona left Sir Douglas and began to talk -caressingly to her aunt and Evelyn, the Sahib rose abruptly from his -chair and strode away. - -Mona did not notice that he had gone. She liked him cordially, but, -now that the moment of parting had come, her thoughts were fully -occupied with her "own people." - -"You will let us know of your safe arrival, won't you?" said Lady -Munro. "I suppose you will be too busy to write often during the -winter, and I am afraid none of us are very great correspondents; but -remember, we tryst you for next summer, if not before." - -"You can't possibly get beyond Edinburgh to-night," said Sir Douglas, -stopping in front of them and looking at his watch. - -"I am afraid not," said Mona. "But I am very anxious to go straight -through, if possible." - -"I do not know why we should not all have gone north together," he -continued, turning to his wife. "Cannot we do it still? Your maid -can bring your boxes." - -"My _dear_ Douglas! Evelyn and I need no end of things before we can -start on a round of visits." - -He shrugged his shoulders, and threw up his eyes resignedly. - -"Mona cannot possibly spend a night in a hotel alone," he said. - -"You dear old uncle! You must remember I have not had you to take -care of me all my life. But I am all right to-night. If I sleep in -Edinburgh, it shall be with a friend." - -"What friend? Who is she?" - -"She is a grade or two below the rank of a duchess, but I think she -will satisfy even you. Doris Colquhoun." - -He smiled and nodded. On the whole, he was well satisfied to have a -few days at his club, even if everybody was out of town. - -"Well, I will at least see you safe into the train," he said. - -The Sahib had expected that this duty would fall to him, and it was -with the least possible shade of injured dignity that he took Mona's -proffered hand. - -"I shall often think of our pleasant walks," she said, looking up -with the frank, bright smile that made her face beautiful. But he -tried in vain to find a suitable answer, and merely bowed over her -hand in silence. - -"Now remember, my dear girl," said Sir Douglas, as he passed the last -of a series of periodicals through the window of the railway -carriage, "if you want anything whatever, write to me, or, better -still, come. You do not need even to wire unless you want me to meet -you at the station. Just get into the first train and walk into our -quarters as if they belonged to you. We are rolling stones, but, -wherever we are, you will always find a home." - -Mona did not answer. Her eyes were brimming over with tears. - -The train glided out of the station, and Sir Douglas watched it till -it was out of sight. Then he swore roundly at a small newsboy who -was somewhat persistent in the offer of his wares, and walked back to -the hotel in an execrable temper towards the world in general, and -towards his wife and daughter in particular. - -Mona was alone in the carriage, but she did not allow herself for one -moment the luxury of dwelling on the life she had left behind. She -dashed away her tears, and brought all her power of concentration to -bear on the heap of magazines at her side. But it was hard work. -Visions of sunlight dancing on the rippling fjord, of waterfalls -plunging from crag to crag, of mountains looming in solemn stillness, -of deep blue columns supporting a sea of ice,--all these lingered on -the retina of her mind, as the physical image persists after the eye -is shut. - -And with them came the faces--of which she must not allow herself to -think. - -Never, since she was a mere girl, had Mona known any lack of -friends,--friends true and devoted; but, in spite of moments of -curious impulsiveness, a proud reserve, which was half sensitiveness, -had always kept even the irrepressible Lucy more or less at a -distance. None of her friends had ever presumed to lay claim to any -proprietorship in her, as Sir Douglas now did; and perhaps because it -was something so new and strange, his blunt kindness was more welcome -than the refinement of tact to her sensitive nature. - -It was growing dark when the train drew in to the Waverley Station. - -"I want to go to Borrowness," said Mona hastily. "Am I in time for -the train?" - -"Borrowness," repeated the porter meditatively, for the place was not -one of European celebrity. "Well, ma'am, it's touch and go. If you -have no luggage you might manage it." - -"You will do nothing of the kind," said a quiet voice, and a neatly -gloved hand was slipped into Mona's arm. "I never heard anything -more absurd." - -"Oh, Doris!" exclaimed Mona. "Why did you come? I told you I could -only come to you if I missed the last train." - -"Was not that the more reason why I should come here for a glimpse of -you? I don't get the chance so often. But if you think you are -going on with that tired face, and without any dinner, you are much -mistaken. Mona, I am surprised--_you_ of all people!" - -"If you only knew it," said Mona resignedly, "you are very unkind." - -"No, I am not. I will observe your own conditions, and argue about -nothing. Your will shall be law; I shall not even refer to your last -letter unless you do. If you tell me that you are going to fly to -the moon from the top of the Scott Monument, I shall merely wish you -a pleasant journey. And indeed, dear, I am quite sure your train had -gone." - -"Well, let me telegraph to my cousin," said Mona, with a sigh. - -Doris Colquhoun was not a little surprised at her easy victory, but -in truth her friend was too worn out to argue. - -"My own ponies shall take you out," said Doris. "They are something -new since you were here, and they are such beauties. Do not laugh -when you see my groom. Father hunted him out for me. He is about -the size of a pepper-pot." - -With a light practised hand she took the reins, the "pepper-pot" -touched his hat with infinite solemnity, and they bowled away through -the town and out into the suburbs. - -"Your pepper-pot is a work of art, without doubt," said Mona, "but I -fear he would not be of much use in case of an accident." - -"So Father said. But the ponies are very safe, and I don't know what -fear is when I am driving. Father is well content to gratify all my -whims, so long as I hold my peace about the one that is more than a -whim." - -Mona did not answer. Just then they entered the avenue of a brightly -lighted house; and, with a magnificent sweep, Doris brought the -ponies to a standstill in front of the steps. - -Mona knew that here she was a very welcome guest, and when she found -herself in the familiar dining-room, with the wood-fire crackling in -the grate, and father and daughter quietly and unaffectedly enjoying -her society, she felt cheered and comforted in spite of herself. - -Mr Colquhoun was a shrewd, kind-hearted Scotch solicitor, or, to be -more exact, a Writer to the Signet. He was a man of much weight in -his own profession, and, in addition to that, he dabbled in art, and -firmly believed himself to be a brilliant scientist _manqué_. He was -a man of a hundred little vanities, but his genuine goodness of heart -would have atoned for many more grievous sins. His gentle, -strong-willed daughter was the pride of his life. Only once, as she -told Mona, had she made a request that he refused to grant, and in -her devotion to him she well-nigh forgave him even that. - -"Miss Maclean looks as if she would be the better of some sparkling -wine," said Mr Colquhoun, and he gave an order to the footman. - -Mona smiled and drew a long breath. - -"What a relief it is to be with people who know one's little -weaknesses!" she said. - -"What a relief it is to be with people who know one wine from -another!" he replied. "Now Doris drinks my Rœderer dutifully, but -in her heart she prefers ginger-pop!" - -Doris protested indignantly. - -"Now don't pretend that you are a wholesome animal," said her father, -looking at her with infinite pride. "You like horses and dogs, that -is the one human thing about you. By the way, did you make any -sketches in Norway, Miss Maclean?" - -"Very few. Norway was too big for me. I did some pretentious -_genrebilder_ of women in their native dress, and a hut with a goat -browsing at the foot of a tree that grew on the roof." - -"Both goat and tree being on the roof?" - -"Both goat and tree being on the roof. The tree is a very common -feature in that situation; the goat was somewhat exceptional." - -"So I should think," said Doris. "I should like to see that sketch." - -"Oh, when you want to turn an honest penny," said Mr Colquhoun, "I -will give you fifty pounds for your sketch-book any day." - -"Indeed I am sorely in want of fifty pounds at the present moment," -laughed Mona, "and, regarded as a work of art, you might have the -book for sixpence. But there is a sort of indecency in selling one's -diary." - -"It is not as a work of art that I want it," he said candidly, -"though there is something of that in it too. It is like your -father's college note-books." He laughed at the recollection. "You -have a knack of knowing the right thing to sketch, which is rare -among men, and unique among women." - -"Thank you very much, but I am afraid I never appreciate a compliment -at the expense of my sex." - -"Then you may accept this one with an easy mind," said Doris. "The -hit is not at the sex, but at my pine-forests and waterfalls." - -"Oh, pray do not let us get on the subject of Doris's sex," said Mr -Colquhoun. "That is our one bone of contention." - -"One of a very few," corrected Doris. - -"I think they all reduce themselves to that." - -"Perhaps," she answered gravely. - -"And now I want to know how long you can stay with us, Miss Maclean. -You must stay for lunch to-morrow, whatever happens. Some cronies of -mine--scientific cronies, you know--are coming to look at a wonderful -microscope I have been buying. It cost a pretty penny, I assure you. -Professor Murray calls it the hundred-ton gun. We should be glad of -the opinion of a lady fresh from one of the greatest physiological -laboratories in the world." - -A courteous refusal was on Mona's lips, but the description of the -microscope sounded suspicious. She had had some experience of Mr -Colquhoun's method of purchasing scientific articles, and guessed -that he had probably given fifty pounds for a cumbrous antiquated -instrument, when he might have got a simpler, more efficient one for -ten. She was determined that the "cronies" should not laugh at the -simple-hearted old man if she could help it; and if the opinion of a -"lady fresh from one of the greatest physiological laboratories in -the world" carried any weight, surely even a little perjury would be -excusable in such a case. - -"I will stay with a great deal of pleasure," she said; "but, whatever -happens, I must catch the afternoon train." - -When the evening was at an end, the two girls went together to Mona's -room, and for a time they gossiped about all sorts of trifles. - -"Well, I see you are very tired," said Doris at length. "Goodnight." - -Mona did not answer. - -"Are you sure you have got everything you want? Let me put that -arm-chair under the gas. That's right. Good night." - -Still there was no answer. - -"Have you fallen asleep already, Mona, or do you not mean to say good -night?" - -"Oh, you old humbug!" said Mona suddenly, pushing an arm-chair to the -other side of the hearth, and putting her friend unceremoniously into -it. "Fire away, in heaven's name! Let me hear all you have to say. -Now that I have come, I suppose we must thrash the whole thing out. -I withdraw all my conditions. Let us have it out and get it over!" - -Doris was almost startled at her friend's vehemence. - -"Well, of course, you know, Mona," she said hesitatingly, "it was a -great disappointment to me." - -"My failure? Naturally. I did not find it exactly amusing myself." - -"I don't mean that. I do not care a straw about the failure, except -in so far as it delays the moment when you can begin to practise. -That was the fortune of war. But I do think you are doing a very -wrong thing now." - -"In what way?" - -"Burying your wonderful powers in the petty life of a village." - -"Look here, Doris. I mean to give you a fair hearing, though it is -too late to change my plans, even if I wished to, which I don't; but -suppose we drop my 'wonderful powers'? I fancy that theory is played -out." - -"All the examiners in the world could not change my opinion on that -score. But we will not discuss the point. Taking you as you -stand----" - -"Five feet five in my stockings----" - -"Please do not be frivolous. Taking you as you stand--a woman of -education, culture, and refinement----" - -"Youth, beauty, and boundless wealth--go on! Word-painting is cheap." - -"I thought you were going to give me a fair hearing?" - -"So I will, dear. Forgive me!" - -"It used to be a favourite theory of yours that 'every man truly -lives so long as he acts himself, or in any way makes good the -faculties of himself.'" - -"So it is still, now that you remind me of it. _Après?_" - -"Oh, Mona, you know all I would say. Are you making good the -faculties of yourself? With the most glorious life-work in the world -opening before you--work that I would give all I possess to be -allowed to share--you deliberately turn aside and waste six precious -months among people who do not understand you, and who won't -appreciate you one bit." - -"I admire the expression 'opening before me,' when the examiners have -twice slammed the door in my face. But, as you say, we won't discuss -that. You talk as if I were going on a mission to the Hottentots. I -am only going to my own people. I do not suppose I am any more -superior to my cousin Rachel than the Munros are superior to me." - -"Nonsense!" - -"At least you will admit that she is my blood-relation. You can't -deny that claim." - -"I can't deny the relationship, distant though it is, but I do -distinctly deny the claim. You know, Mona, we all have what are -called 'poor relations.'" - -"I suppose many of us have," said Mona meditatively, after a pause. -"You will scarcely believe it, but for the last three weeks I have -been fancying that my position is unique." - -"Of course it is not. We are all in the same boat, more or less. My -brother Frank says that, after mature consideration on the subject of -so-called poor relations, he has come to the conclusion that, in -ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, it is better to cut the -connection at once and altogether." - -Mona raised her eyebrows. "Doris Colquhoun quotes that?" - -The colour rose to Doris's face, but she went on-- - -"Not because of their poverty. I do not need to tell you that. -There are people who earn thirty pounds a year by the sweat of their -brow whom one is proud to have at one's table. It is because they -have different ideas, speak a different language, live in a different -world. What can one do at the best? Frank says,--Spend a week in -the country with them once a year or so, and invite them to spend a -fortnight in town. What is the result? They feel the difference -between themselves and you, they don't like it, and they call you -'snob.' Suppose you ignore them altogether? The net result is the -same. They call you 'snob.' The question is, Is it worth all the -trouble and friction?" - -"Doris, Doris," said Mona, "that is the sheerest casuistry. You know -no power on earth would tempt you to cut your own poor relations." - -"I don't know. The women all happen to be particularly nice. I -should not break my heart if I thought I should never see some of the -men again." - -"All women are particularly nice, according to you; no doubt my -cousin Rachel would be included in the number. No, no; tell all that -to the marines! I know you too well. And pray don't preach such -dangerous doctrine. It would be precisely the people who have risen -above their relatives only in the vulgar externals of life who would -be most ready to take advantage of it." - -"Well, I confess that I always argue the matter with Frank. -Personally, I don't see why one cannot be happy and cordial when one -meets one's relations, without sacrificing one's self to them as you -are doing." - -"I don't know that I am sacrificing myself. Perhaps," she added -suddenly with a curious smile, "I shall acquire at Borrowness some -personal experience in the 'wide, puzzling subject of compromise.'" - -"Compromise!" repeated Doris. "Please don't go out of your way for -that. The magnificent thing about your life is that there is no -occasion for compromise in it. That duty is reserved for people with -benighted old fathers. Borrowness is somewhere near St Rules, is it -not?" - -"Yes," said Mona. "There is only the breadth of the county between -them." - -"I know some very nice people there. I shall be proud to give you an -introduction if you like." - -"No, no, no, dear," said Mona quickly. "My friends must be my -cousin's friends. Thank you very much all the same." - -"But, Mona, at the end of this miserable six months you will go on, -won't you?" - -Mona frowned. "I have not the vaguest idea what I shall do at the -end of the six months," she said. - -"You are taking your books with you?" - -"Some old classics and German books, nothing more." - -"No medical books?" - -"Not one." - -Doris sighed deeply. - -"Don't be so unhappy, dear. I wish with all my heart you could be a -doctor yourself." - -"Oh, don't talk of that. It is no use. My father never will give -his consent. But you know, dear, I am studying by proxy. I am -living in your life. You must not fail me." - -"You talk as if suffering humanity could scarcely make shift to get -along without me." - -"And that is what I think, in a sense. Oh, Mona"--she drew a long -breath, and her face crimsoned--"it is so difficult to talk of it -even to you. A young girl in my Bible-class went into the Infirmary -a few weeks ago--only one case among many--and you should have heard -what she told me! Of course I know it was only routine treatment. -It would have been the same in any hospital; but that does not make -it any better. She said she would rather die than go there again. -No fate could have been worse." - -"Dear Doris! don't you think I know it all? But you must not say no -fate could have been worse. The worst fate is moral wrong, and there -is no moral wrong where our will is not concerned." - -"Wrong!" repeated Doris scornfully. "Moral wrong! Is it nothing -then for a girl to lose her _bloom_?" Her face was burning, and her -breath came fast. "Young men," she said, scarcely above a whisper, -"and all those students--mere boys! It drives me mad!" - -Mona rose and kissed her. - -"Dearest," she said, "you are the _preux chevalier_ of your sex, and -I love you for it with all my heart. I feel the force of what you -say, though one learns in time to be silent, and not even to think of -it more than need be. But indeed, you make yourself more unhappy -than you should. Some of the young men of whom you speak so -scornfully are truly scientific, and many of them have infinite -kindness of heart." - -"Don't let us talk of it. I cannot bear it. But oh, Mona, go on -with your work--_go on_!" She kissed her friend almost passionately -and left the room. - -"There goes," thought Mona, "a woman with a pure passion for an -abstract cause--a woman whose shoe-latchets I am not worthy to -unloose." - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -BORROWNESS. - -The next afternoon the grey ponies trotted Mona down to Granton. - -It was strange to find herself on the deck of a steamer once more; -the same experience as that of yesterday, and yet how different! -Yesterday she had been the centre of her little circle--admired, -flattered, indulged by every one; to-day she was nothing and -nobody--a young woman travelling alone. And yesterday, she kept -assuring herself, was the anomaly, the exception; to-day was in the -ordinary course of things--a fair average sample of life. - -It would have been strange if her thoughts had been very bright ones, -and a heavy ground-swell on the Forth did not tend to make them any -brighter. - -"It's a cross-water, ye ken," an old countryman was explaining to a -friend. "They say ye might cross the Atlantic, an' no' get onything -waur." - -The wind was chill and cutting, and it carried with it an easterly -haar, that seemed to penetrate to Mona's very marrow. She was -thankful when they reached Burntisland, and she found herself -ensconced in a dirty, uncomfortable third-class carriage. - -"If Borrowness is your destination," Mr Colquhoun had said, "it is -not a question of getting there sooner or later; it is a question of -never getting there at all;" and so Mona began to think, as the train -drew up for an indefinite period at every little station. And yet -she was not anxious to hasten her arrival. The journey from -Edinburgh to Borrowness was short and simple, compared with that -which her mind had to make from the life behind to the life before. - -"I have no right to enter upon it in the spirit of a martyr," she -said to herself, "even if that would make it any easier. For better -or worse it is all my own doing. And I will not dream the time away -in prospects and memories. I will take up each day with both hands, -and live it with all my might." - -The twilight was beginning to gather when at length the guard shouted -"Borrowness!" and Mona sprang to her feet and looked out. - -It was a quiet, dreary, insignificant wayside station. A few men -were lounging about--fisher-folk chiefly--and one woman. - -No, that could not be her cousin Rachel. - -During her life in London, Mona had often met an elderly lady whose -dress was sufficiently eccentric to attract attention even in -"blessed Bloomsbury." A short wincey skirt, a severely -uncompromising cloth jacket, and a black mushroom hat, had formed a -startling contrast to the frivolities in vogue; and, by some curious -freak of fancy, a mental picture of this quaint old lady had always -flashed into Mona's mind when she thought of her cousin. - -But the woman on the platform was not like that. Her face was ruddy -and good-natured, and her dress was a hideous caricature of the -fashion of the year before. Every picturesque puff and -characteristic excrescence was burlesqued to the last point -compatible with recognition. Mona might have met fifty such women in -the street, and never have noticed their attire; but the hang of that -skirt, the showiness of that bonnet, the general want of cut about -every garment, as seen in that first momentary glance, were burnt -into her recollection for a lifetime. - -"No doubt, the woman I used to meet in London was a duchess," she -thought a little bitterly, "but this cannot be my cousin Rachel." - -She gave an order to the porter, alighted from the carriage, and -waited--she scarcely knew for what. She was the only young woman who -got out of the train there; so if Rachel Simpson were anywhere in -sight, she must soon identify her cousin by a process of exclusion. - -And so she did. - -But she did it very slowly and deliberately, for Mona was looking -rather impressive and alarming in her neat travelling dress, not at -all unlike some of the young ladies who came to stay at the Towers. - -The train puffed away out of the station, and then the little woman -came up with a curious, coy smile on her ruddy face, her head a -little on one side, and an ill-gloved hand extended. Mona learned -afterwards that this was her cousin's best company manner. - -"Miss Maclean?" she said half shyly, half familiarly. - -"Yes: I am Mona Maclean. I suppose you are my cousin Rachel?" - -They kissed each other, and then there was an awkward silence. - -Rachel Simpson was thinking involuntarily, with some satisfaction, -that she had seen Mona in a third-class carriage. She herself -usually travelled second, and the knowledge of this gave her a -grateful and much-needed sense of superiority, as regarded that one -particular. She wondered vaguely whether Mona would object to having -been seen under such disadvantageous circumstances. - -"I suppose my luggage arrived about a fortnight ago?" said Mona, -forcing herself to speak heartily. "You were kind enough to say you -would give it house-room. What shall I do about this little valise?" - -"Oh, the man will bring it to-night. Bill," she said familiarly to -the rough-looking porter, "mind and bring that little trunk when ye -gang hame." - -"Ay," said the man, without touching his cap. - -Rachel Simpson was one of the many lower middle-class people in -Scotland who talk fairly good English to their equals and superiors, -but who, in addressing their inferiors, relapse at once into the -vernacular. Mona greatly admired the pure native Scotch, and had -looked forward to hearing it spoken; but her cousin's tone and -accent, as she addressed this man, jarred on her almost unbearably. -Mona was striving hard, too, to blot out a mental picture of Lady -Munro, as she stood on the platform at Newcastle, giving an order -with queenly graciousness to the obsequious porter. - -The two cousins walked home together. The road was very wet with -recent rain, and they had to pick their steps in a way that was not -conducive to conversation; but they talked eagerly about the weather, -the crops, the crossing to Burntisland, and everything else that was -most uninteresting. Mona had never mentioned the Munros nor her -visit to Norway. - -In about five minutes they reached the house, and indeed it was not -such a bad little house after all, opening, as it did, on a tiny, -well-kept garden. The two windows on the ground-floor had of course -been sacrificed to the exigencies of the "shop"; and as they went in, -Mona caught a glimpse of some extraordinary hats and bonnets in one -window, and of dusty stationery and sundry small wares in the other. - -"Marshall & Snelgrove and Parkins & Gotto," she said to herself -judicially, "and I suppose Fortnum & Mason, are represented by those -two wooden boxes of sweetmeats beside the blotting-books." - -As they opened the glass door, the automatic shop-bell rang sharply, -and an untidy girl looked out from the kitchen. - -"It's you," she said briefly, and disappeared again. - -Rachel Simpson would never have dreamt of giving a domestic order in -the hearing of a visitor, so she went into the kitchen, and a -whispered conversation took place while Mona waited in the passage. -The old-fashioned clock ticked loudly, and the air was close and -redolent of rose-leaves and mustiness. Evidently open windows were -the exception here, not the rule. The house seemed curiously far -away from the beach, too, considering how small the town was. - -"If I can only catch a glimpse of the sea from my bedroom window," -thought Mona, "I shall be happy in a garret." - -But it was no garret to which her cousin presently conducted her, -nor, alas! did it command a view of the sea. It was a fair-sized -room above the kitchen--a room filled up with ugly, old-fashioned -furniture--and its window overlooked a wide prospect of cabbage-beds. - -"Just come into the front parlour when you get off your things," said -Rachel, "and we'll have a cup of tea." - -"Thank you," said Mona pleasantly, and she was left alone. - -She seated herself absently on a chair, and then sprang suddenly to -her feet again. - -"Well, you don't suppose you are going to take stock now," she said -to herself savagely. "Wash your hands, and be quick about it!" - -She took the liberty of opening the window first, however. The upper -sash declined to move at all, and the lower one slipped down again as -often as she raised it. In vain she looked about the room for -something to support it. - -"Stay open you shall," she said, "if I put my own head underneath! -but I will resort to the Family Bible first," and her eye rested on -the substantial volume that surmounted the chest of drawers. - -Finally, she rolled her travelling cloak into a tight bundle, and -propped up the sash with that. - -"A little rain will do you no harm," she said, "and a little air will -do this musty hole a vast deal of good." - -She looked about for hot water, but there was none, so with a shiver -she washed in cold. Then after a glance at the distorting -looking-glass, to make sure that her hair was smooth and her -expression tolerably amiable, she betook herself to the front parlour. - -There was no fire in the grate. There never was a fire in that grate -while the white curtains were up, from May to October. Rachel often -indulged in the luxury of sitting by the kitchen fire when she was -alone on a chilly evening, and had Mona known this she would -thankfully have done the same; but Rachel's "manners" were her strong -point, and she would have been horrified at the idea of suggesting -such a thing to a comparative stranger. When Mona had really settled -down, she could afford to be comfortable again, to use the old brown -teapot, put away the plated spoons, and keep her Sunday bonnet for -Sunday. - -In truth the teapot on the table was a wonderful thing, and Rachel -glowed with pride as Mona's eye returned to it incessantly; but Mona -was only thinking vaguely that she had never before seen one single -object--and that not a very big one--which so absolutely succeeded in -setting at defiance every canon of common decency in art. - -But all at once she thought of Rachel's affectionate letters, and her -heart smote her. This woman, with her shop and all her ugly -surroundings, her kind heart and her vulgar formalities, seemed to -Mona so infinitely pathetic that, tired and overstrained as she was, -she bit her lip to keep back a rush of tears. - -"Do you know, dear," she said warmly, "it is very kind of you to have -me here." - -"Oh, I'm only too glad to have you, if you can make yourself happy." - -"No fear of that. Give me a day or two to settle down, and I shall -be as happy as a king." - -"Yes, it does just take a while to get used to new ways and new -people; but blood is thicker than water, I say. My niece, now, had -settled down wonderfully. She knew all my ways, and we were so -suited to each other. She was a great hand at the millinery, too; I -suppose that's not much in your line?" - -Mona laughed. "I was going to say, like the Irishman, that I did not -know, because I had never tried," she said; "but I do trim my own -summer hats. I should enjoy it immensely." "And it will go hard -with me," she added to herself, "but I shall eclipse those -productions in the window." - -"I am afraid," said Rachel uneasily, "we could not sell plain things -like you had on. It was very nice and useful and that, of course, -but they are all for the feathers and flowers here." - -"Oh, I should not attempt a hat like mine. It takes genius to do a -really simple thing, don't you think so?" - -Rachel laughed, uncertain whether to take the remark in jest or -earnest. "Well, you know," she said doubtfully, "it is easier to -cover a hat up like." - -"Very much," agreed Mona. - -"And now you must make a good tea, for I am sure you are hungry after -the journey. That's ham and eggs in front of you, and this is hot -buttered toast,--only plain food, you see. I have made your tea nice -and strong; it will do you more good." - -"Farewell, sleep!" thought Mona, as she surveyed the prospect before -her; and it occurred to her that the sound of champagne, creaming -into a shallow glass, was one of the most delightful things on earth. -She blushed violently when her cousin said a moment later-- - -"I suppose you are blue-ribbon? Everybody nearly is now-a-days. It -is wonderful how many of the gentry have stopped having wine on their -tables. Nobody needs to have it now. The one thing is as genteel as -the other, and it makes a great difference to the purse." - -"Doesn't it?" said Mona sympathetically, thankful that no answer had -been required to the original question. "And after all," she -thought, "when I am living a life like that of the cabbages at the -back, what do I want with the 'care-breaking luxury'?" - -"I hope you don't object to the shop," Rachel went on presently, _à -propos_ apparently of the idea of gentility. "I don't really need it -now, and it never did very much in the way of business at the best; -but I have got used to the people dropping in, and I would miss it. -And you knew the ladies, the minister's wife and the doctor's wife -like, they come in sometimes and have a cup of tea with me: they -don't think me any the less genteel for keeping a shop. But I always -tell everybody that it is not that I require to do it. Everybody in -Borrowness knows that, and of course it makes a difference." - -"The question of 'gentility,'" said Mona, with a comical and saving -recollection of Lucy's letter, "seems to me to depend entirely on who -does a thing, and the spirit in which it is done, not on the thing -itself." - -"That is just it. They all know me, you see, and they know I am not -really caring about the shop at all. Why, they can see that whiles I -lock the door behind me and go away for a whole day together." - -Mona bit her lip and did not attempt an answer this time. - -It was still early when she excused herself and went to her room. -She paced up and down for a time, and then stopped suddenly in front -of the looking-glass. It had become a habit with her, in the course -of her lonely life, to address her own image as if it were another -person. - -"It is not that it is terrible," she said gravely; "I almost wish it -were; it is just that it is all so deadly commonplace. Oh, Lucy, I -_am_ an abject idiot!" And like the heroines of the good old days, -when advanced women were unknown, she threw herself on the great -four-post bed and burst into a passion of tears. - -The torrent was violent but not prolonged. In a few minutes she -threw away her handkerchief and looked scornfully at her swollen face. - -"After all," she said philosophically, "I suppose a good howl was the -cheapest way of managing the thing in the long-run. That will be the -beginning and the end of it. _Hörst du wohl?_--And if it so please -you, Mistress Lucy, I don't regret what I have done one bit, and I -would do the same thing to-morrow." - -She curtseyed low to the imaginary Lucy, betook herself to bed, and -in spite of grief, excitement, and anxiety, in spite of ham and egg, -strong tea and hot buttered toast, she slept like a healthy animal -till sunrise. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -THE SHOP. - -No; it was clear that nothing could be done with her bedroom. That -was a case for pure and unmitigated endurance. Mona felt thankful, -as she looked round in the morning sunshine, that she had not brought -with her any of the pictures and pots and artistic draperies without -which young people find it almost impossible to travel nowadays. The -heavy cumbrous furniture might possibly have been subdued into -insignificance; but any moderately æsthetic colour would have been -drowned in the harsh dominant note shrieked out by the old-world -wall-paper. - -She adhered rigidly to her resolution that last night's "howl" was to -be the "beginning and the end of it"; but as she leaned back on the -stiff, hard pillows, her hands clasped behind her head, she looked -the whole situation fairly in the face. It was not an inviting -prospect by any means, but she was still young and enthusiastic, and -resolution was strong within her. - -"Good workmen do good work in any sphere," she thought, "and bad -workmen do bad work in any sphere. It lies with myself. The game is -all in my own hands. Heaven help me!" - -"I hope you slept well," said her cousin, as she entered the parlour -for breakfast. - -"I never slept better in my life," said Mona cordially. - -"That's right!" and Rachel, who had suffered sundry qualms of doubt -in the small hours of the morning, who had even drifted within a -measurable distance of the appalling heresy that blood might not -always and under all circumstances be thicker than water, was not a -little comforted and strengthened in her old belief. It did still -require an effort of faith to conceive that she would ever feel as -much at her ease with Mona as she had done with her niece: but then, -on the other hand, Mona was so very stylish--"quite the lady"; and if -she did not prove much of a hand at trimming bonnets, her manner was -certainly cut out for "standing behind the counter." - -"Were you meaning to go out this forenoon?" asked Rachel. - -"I will do whatever you like. I have not made any plans." - -"I was thinking it's such a fine day I might go over to -Kirkstoun--it's only a mile and a quarter from here. Mrs Smith, a -friend of mine there, lost her mother a few weeks ago, and I've never -got to see her since. Her husband's cousin was married on my sister -Jane, so she won't think it very neighbourly my never going near her." - -"How very unpleasant for Jane!" was Mona's first thought. "I hope -her husband's cousin was not very heavy;" but aloud she said-- - -"And you would like me to sit in the shop while you are away? I -will, with pleasure. It will be quite amusing." - -"No, you don't need to sit in the shop. As like as not nobody will -be in; but you never can tell. You can sit at the window in the -front parlour, and watch the people passing, and if the bell rings -you'll be sure to hear it. If there does anybody come, Sally can -tell you the price of anything you don't know." - -"Thank you." - -"Of course, I might take you with me and lock the door, or leave -Sally to mind the shop. I'm sure Mrs Smith would be delighted to see -you at any other time, but she being in affliction like----" - -"Oh, of course. She would much rather have you to herself. Anybody -would under the circumstances." - -"That's just it. If the weather keeps up so that we can wear our -best things, I'll take you round to call on all my friends next week. -There's really no pleasure in it when you've to tuck up your dress -and take off your waterproof at every door." - -"That is very true," said Mona cordially. "There is no pleasure in -wearing pretty things unless one can do it in comfort; and when I don -my best bib and tucker, I like to show them to advantage. I am -afraid, though," she added, with real regret, "I have not got a dress -you will care for much." - -"Oh, I daresay you'll do very well. The great thing is to look the -lady." - -They went on with breakfast in silence, but presently Rachel resumed-- - -"I daresay you'd like to go out on the braes, or down on the beach -this afternoon. Now I wonder if there is any one could go with you? -There's Mary Jane Anderson across the way; she's always ready to -oblige me, but they've a dressmaker in the house just now." - -"Oh, I think we won't trouble Miss Anderson this afternoon, thank -you, dear. I love to explore new places for myself, and I will give -you all my original impressions when I come in. I can't tell you -what a treat it is to me to live by the sea. I am sure I should find -it company enough at any time." - -"Well, it's a great thing to be easily pleased. My dear"--Rachel -hesitated--"if anybody should come in, you won't say anything about -your meaning to be a doctor?" - -Mona was much amused. "I should never even think of such a thing," -she said. "You may depend upon me, cousin Rachel, not to mention the -fact to any one so long as I am with you." - -They rose from the table, and after a great deal of preparation -Rachel set out in her "best things," without fear of rain. - -"Mind you make yourself comfortable," she said, reopening the door -after she had closed it behind her. "I daresay you'll like the -rocking-chair, and you'll find some bound volumes of the _Sunday at -Home_ in the parlour." - -"Thank you," said Mona; "I do like a rocking-chair immensely." - -The first thing she did, however, when her cousin was gone, was to -get half-a-dozen strong pieces of firewood from Sally, and prop open -all the windows in the house. Then she proceeded to make a prolonged -and leisurely survey of the shop. - -Accustomed as she was to shopping in London, where the large and -constant turnover, the regular "clearing sales," and the unremitting -competition, combine to keep the goods fresh and modern, where the -smallest crease or dust-mark on any article is a sufficient reason -for a substantial reduction in its price, she was simply appalled at -the crushed, dusty, expensive, old-fashioned goods that formed the -greater part of her cousin's stock-in-trade. - -"I shudder to think what these things may have cost to begin with," -she said, straightening herself up at last with a heavy sigh; "but I -should like to see the person who would take the whole thing, lock, -stock, and barrel, in exchange for a five-pound note!" - -She had just come to this conclusion when the shop-bell rang, and an -elderly woman came in. - -"Good morning," said Mona pleasantly. - -The woman stared. She did not wish to be rude, but on the other hand -she did not wish to be ridiculous, and such gratuitous civility from -a stranger, in the discharge of an everyday matter of business, -seemed to her nothing short of that; so she was silent. - -"A yard o' penny elastic," she said, when she had sufficiently -recovered from her surprise to speak. - -Mona bowed, and took down the box from its place on the shelf. - -"If ye've no' got onything better than ye had the last time," -continued the woman, looking suspiciously at the battered pasteboard -box, "I'll no trouble ye. It lookit weel eneuch, but it a' gaed -intae bits the meenit it was touched." - -Mona examined the contents of the box critically. - -"I certainly cannot recommend this," she said. "It's too old. -We"--she suppressed a laugh that nearly choked her, as she found the -familiar expression on her lips--"we shall be getting some in next -week." - -"It's twa month sin' I got the last," said the woman severely. "It -doesna seem vera business-like tae be sellin' the same stuff yet." - -"That is true," said Mona frankly. "It must have been overlooked. I -suppose there are other shops in the town where you can get what you -want. If not, you can depend on getting it here this day week. Can -I show you anything else?" "Not that there is a single thing in the -shop I can show with much satisfaction to myself," she added mentally. - -The woman frowned. - -"I want some knittin'-needles the size o' that," she said, laying a -half-finished stocking on the counter. - -Mona drew a long breath of relief. Knitting-needles could not go bad -like elastic; and if they were rusty, she could rub them up with -emery-paper. - -She opened the box with considerable satisfaction, but to her dismay -she found needles of all sizes mixed up in inextricable confusion, -and the bit of notched metal with which she had seen shopkeepers -determine the size was missing. She knew this exacting old woman -would never allow her to depend on her eye, and she hunted here, -there, and everywhere, in vain. She preserved her calmness -outwardly, but her forehead was moist with anxiety, when at length, -mere by good luck than good guidance, she opened the cash-drawer and -found in it the missing gauge. Poor Mona! She experienced the same -sense of relief that she had sometimes felt in the anatomy-room, when -a nerve, of which she had given up all hope, appeared sound and -entire in her dissection. - -With some difficulty she found four needles of the same size, and -wrapping them neatly in paper, she gave them to her customer. She -was proceeding to open the door, but the old woman seemed to have -something more to say. - -"I aye like to gie my custom to Miss Simpson," she said, "But what -like way is this tae manage? And ye seem tae be new tae the business -yersel'." - -"I am," said Mona, "but I am very willing to learn. If you will have -a little patience, you will find that in time I shall improve." - -She spoke with absolute sincerity. She had forgotten that her life -stretched out beyond the limits of this narrow shop; she felt herself -neither more nor less than what she was at the moment--a very -inefficient young shopkeeper. - -"Weel, there's nae sayin'. I'll be back this day week for that -elastic;" and Mona bowed her first customer out. - -She stood for a minute or two, with her eyes fixed on the floor, in a -brown study. - -"Well," she said at last, "if any lady or gentleman thinks that -shopkeeping is child's-play, I am prepared to show that lady or -gentleman a thing or two!" - -She had scarcely seated herself behind the counter, when the bell -rang again, and this time the customer appeared to be a servant-girl. -In spite of her tawdry dress, Mona took a fancy to her face at once, -the more so as it did not seem to bespeak a very critical mind. In -fact, it was the customer who was ill at ease on this occasion, and -who waited shyly to be spoken to. - -"What can I do for you?" asked Mona. - -"I want a new haat." - -Only for one moment had Mona thoughts of referring her to the nearest -clergyman. Then she realised the situation. - -"Oh!" she said. This was still a heavy responsibility. "Do you know -exactly what you want, or would you like to see what we can suggest?" - -"I'd like tae see what ye've got." - -"Is the hat for week-days or for Sundays?" - -"For the Sabbath. Miss Simpson had some big red roses in the window -a while back. I thocht ane or twa o' them wad gang vera weel wi' -this feather." - -Mona took the small paper parcel in her hand, and gave her attention -as completely to its contents as she had ever done to a microscopic -section. It had been an ostrich-feather at some period of its -existence, but it bore more resemblance to a herring-bone now. - -"Yes," she said tentatively. "The feather would have to be done up. -But don't you think it is rather a pity to have both flowers and -feathers in one hat?" - -The girl looked aghast. This was heresy indeed. - -"The feather's gey thin by itsel'," she said, "but if it was half -covered up wi' the flowers, it'd look more dressed like." - -Mona looked at the feather, then at the girl, and then she relapsed -into profound meditation. - -"Are you a servant?" she asked presently. - -"Ay." - -"Here in Borrowness?" - -"Na; I've come in for the day tae see my mither. I'm scullery-maid -at the Towers." - -"What a pass things must have come to," thought Mona, "that even a -scullery-maid should be allowed to dress like this in a good house!" - -"The Towers!" she said aloud. "You have been very lucky to get into -such a place. Why, if you do your best to learn all you can, you -will be a first-rate cook some day." - -The girl beamed. - -"You know," Mona went on reflectively, "a really first-class London -servant would think it beneath her to wear either feathers or -flowers. She would have a neat little bonnet like this"--she picked -out one of the few desirable articles in the shop--"and she would -have it plainly trimmed with a bit of good ribbon or velvet--so!" - -She twisted a piece of velvet round the front of the bonnet and put -it on her own head. Surmounting her trim gown, with its spotless -collar and cuffs, the bonnet looked very well, and to Mona's great -surprise it appealed even to the crude taste of her customer. - -"It's gey stylish," said the girl, "an' I suppose it'd come a deal -cheaper?" - -"No," said Mona. "It would not come any cheaper at the moment, if -you get a good straw; but it would last as long as half-a-dozen hats -with flowers and feathers. You see, it's like this," she went on, -leaning forward on the counter in her earnestness, "you want to look -like the ladies at the Towers. Well, it is very natural that you -should; we all want to look like the people we admire. The ladies -have good things, and plenty of them; but that requires money, and -those of us who have not got much money must be content to be like -them in one way or the other,--we must either have good things or -plenty of things. A _common_ servant buys cheap satins, and flowers -and laces that look shabby in a week. No one mistakes her for a -lady, and she does not look like a good servant. A really -first-class maid, as I said before, gets a few good simple things, -that wear a long time, and she looks--well--a great deal more like a -lady than the other does!" - -The girl hesitated. "I daursay I'd get mair guid o' the bannet," she -said. - -"I am sure you would. But I don't want you to decide in a hurry. -Take time to think it over." - -"Na, I'll tak' the bannet." - -Then ensued a discussion of details, and at last the girl prepared to -go. - -"And when you are getting a new dress," said Mona, "get one that will -go well with the bonnet--a plain dark-blue or black serge. You will -never tire of that, and you have no idea how nice you will look in -it." - -The girl looked admiringly at Mona's own simple gown, and went away -smiling. - -"If all my customers were like that," thought Mona, "I should be -strongly inclined to pitch my tent in Borrowness for the rest of my -natural life." - -Truly, it never rains but it pours. Scarcely had Mona closed the -door on customer Number Two, when customer Number Three appeared, and -customer Number Three was a man. - -"Good morning," he said courteously. - -"Good morning, sir." - -"I wonder if you have got such a thing as a really good piece of -india-rubber." - -Mona took some in from the window, but it was hard and brittle. - -"That is of no use," she said, "but I have some more upstairs." - -A few months before, in Tottenham Court Road, she had, as Lucy -expressed it, "struck a rich vein of india-rubber," pliable, elastic, -and neatly bevelled into dainty pieces. Mona had been busy with some -fine histological drawings at the time, and had laid in a small -stock, a sample of which she now produced. - -"I think you will find that quite satisfactory," she said, quietly -putting pencil and paper before him. - -He tried it. - -"Why, I never had such a piece of india-rubber in my life before," he -said, looking up in surprise, and their eyes met with one of those -rare sympathetic smiles which are sometimes called forth by a common -appreciation of even the most trivial things. - -"I am taking advantage of a holiday to make some diagrams," he went -on, "and, when one is in a hurry, bread is a very poor makeshift for -india-rubber." - -_Diagrams!_ The word sounded like an old friend. Mona quite longed -to know what they were--botanical? anatomical? physiological? She -merely assented in a word, however, and with another courteous "Good -morning" he went away. - -"A nice shopkeeper I make," she said scornfully. "Firstly, I promise -to get in new goods without knowing that the proceeding is -practicable. Secondly, I undertake to make a bonnet, which will -doubtless prove to be entirely beyond my powers. Thirdly, I give an -estimate for said bonnet, which won't allow sixpence for the trouble -of trimming. Fourthly, I sell a piece of my own india-rubber without -so much as a farthing of profit. No, my dear girl, it must be -frankly admitted that, on to-day's examination, you have made -something like minus fifty per cent!" - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -CASTLE MACLEAN. - -The sunlight broke and sparkled on the sea, and all the flowering -grasses on the braes were dancing in the wind. Numberless rugged -spurs of rock, crossing the strip of sand and shingle, stretched out -into the water, and the long trails of _Fucus_ fell and rose with the -ebb and flow of every wave. - -Mona was half intoxicated with delight. The mid-day dinner had been -rather a trial to her. The "silver" was far from bright, and the -crystal was far from clear; and although the table-cloth was clean, -it might to all intents and purposes have been a sheet, so little -pretension did it make to its proper gloss and sheen. It seemed -incredible that, within little more than a stone's-throw of the dusty -shop and the musty parlour, there should be such a world of -freshness, and openness, and beauty. No need for any one to grow -petty and narrow-minded here, when a mere "Open Sesame" was -sufficient to bring into view this great, glowing, bountiful Nature. - -"It is mine, mine, mine," she said to herself. "Nobody in all the -world can take it from me." And she sang softly to music of her own-- - - "'Tis heaven alone that is given away, - 'Tis only God may be had for the asking." - -This stretch of breezy coast meant for her all that the secret -passage to the _abbé's_ cell meant for Monte Christo--knowledge, and -wisdom, and companionship, and untold treasures. - -A little distance off, a great column of rock rose abruptly from the -beach, and Mona found to her delight that, with a little easy -scrambling, she could reach the summit by means of a rude natural -staircase at one side. On the top the rocks were moulded by rain and -wave into nooks and hollows, and there was a fairy carpet of small -shells and shingle, sea-campions and thrift. In front of her, for -leagues and leagues, stretched the rippling, dazzling sea; behind -rose the breezy braes; and away to the left the afternoon sun shone -on the red roofs, and was flashed back from the museum windows and -weather-cocks of Kirkstoun. Mona selected a luxurious arm-chair, and -ensconced herself comfortably for the afternoon. - - -The old clock was striking five when she entered the house. - -"I do hope I am not late for tea," she said. "I have had such a -lovely time!" - -"I see that," said Rachel, smiling involuntarily as her eyes fell on -the bright glowing face. "Get off your things, and come away." - -"And look, I found a treasure," said Mona re-entering, "some Bloody -Cranesbill." - -"Eh? Is that what you call it? It's a queer-like name. It's gey -common about here. You'll find plenty of it by the roadside among -the fields." - -"Really? Or do you mean the Meadow Cranesbill? It is very like -this, but purpler, and it has two flowers on each stalk instead of -one." - -As Rachel belonged to that large section of the community which would -be wholly at a loss for a reply if asked whether a primrose and a -buttercup had four petals or six, she remained discreetly silent. - -But, curiously enough, Mona's childlike and unaffected delight in the -sea and the flowers set her cousin more nearly at ease than anything -had done yet. - -"After all," she thought, "it's a great thing for a town-bred girl to -stay in the country for a change, and with her own flesh and blood -too. She must have been dull enough, poor thing, alone in London." - -"When you want to get rid of me for a whole day," said Mona -presently, "I mean to go off on a botanising excursion round the -coast. I am sure there must be lots of treasures blushing unseen." - -"We'll do something better than that," said Rachel, after a moment's -hesitation as to whether the occasion were worthy of a trump-card. -"Some fine day, if we are spared, we'll take the coach to St Rules, -and see all the sights. There's a shop in South Street where we can -get pies and lemonade, and we'll have an egg to our tea when we come -back." - -"I should dearly like to see St Rules," said Mona. "I have heard of -the sea-girt castle all my life; and the prospect of an 'egg to my -tea' is a great additional attraction. I cannot tell you all the -gala memories of childhood that the idea calls up--picnics in -pine-woods, and break-neck scrambles, and all sorts of adventures." - -She did not add that "pies and lemonade" were not a part of those -gala memories; but in truth the idea of lunching "genteelly" with -Rachel, on that squalid fare in a shop, depressed her as few -hardships could have done. - -"What are you in the way of taking to your supper in London?" asked -Rachel. "I usually have porridge myself, but it's not everybody that -can take them." - -"Oh, let us have porridge by all means! I believe the two -characteristics by which you can always diagnose a Scotchman are a -taste for porridge and a keen appreciation of the bagpipes. I mean -to prove worthy of my nationality." - -"And do you like them thick or thin?" - -"The bagpipes? Oh, the porridge! The question seems to be a -momentous one, and unless I leave it to you, I must decide in the -dark. I imagine--it would be safer to say thin." - -"Well, I always take them thin myself," said Rachel, in a tone of -relief; "but some people--you'd wonder!--they like them that thick -that a spoon will stand up in the middle! It's curious how tastes -differ, but it takes all sorts to make a world, they say." - -"Verily," said Mona earnestly. "But now I must tell you about my -customers. You have not even asked whether I had any, and I assure -you I had a most exciting time." - -"Well, I never! Was there anybody in? I was that taken up with Mrs -Smith, you see, poor body!" - -"Of course. But now you must know in the first place that I had -three, whole, live customers," and Mona proceeded to give a pretty -full account of the experiences of the morning. - -"That would be Mistress Dickson--I ken fine," said Rachel, relapsing -in her excitement into the Doric, "a fractious, fault-finding body. -I'm sure she may take her custom elsewhere, and welcome, for me. I -never heard the like. She aye has an eye to a good bargain, and if I -say I make sixpence profit out of her in a twelvemonth, it's more -likely above the mark than below it." - -"That I can quite believe," said Mona; "but you know, dear, the -elastic had perished, and she was quite right to complain of that. -We must get some fresh in the course of the week." - -"Hoot awa! We'll do nothing of the sort. If the traveller comes -round between this and then, we'll take some off him, but I'll not -stir a foot to oblige old Betsy Dickson. She knows quite well that I -don't need to keep the shop." - -"But, dear,"--Mona seated herself on a stool at her cousin's feet, -and laid her white hand on the wrinkled red one,--"I don't see that -requiring to keep the shop has anything to do with it. If we keep it -at all, surely we ought to keep it really well." - -"And who says I don't keep it well? Nobody heeds old Betsy and her -grumbling. Everything I buy is the best of its kind; not the tawdry -stuff you get in the London shops, that's only got up to sell. You -don't know a good tape and stay-lace when you see them, or I wouldn't -need to tell you that." - -"I am quite sure of it. But you know, dear, you can get good things -as well as bad in the London shops, and you can get them fresh and -wonderfully cheap. The next time you want a good many things, I wish -you would let me go to London for them. I am sure at the Stores and -some other places I know, I could make better bargains than you can -with your traveller; and I would bring a lot of those dainty -novelties that people expect to pay dear for in the provinces. We -would make our little shop the talk of the country-side." - -"Hoot, havers, lassie!" laughed Rachel, no more entertaining the idea -than if Mona had suggested a voyage to the North Pole. "Why, I -declare," she added, with a renewal of that agreeable sense of -superiority, "you're not like me; you're a born shopkeeper after all! -But who else was in?" - -Mona drew a long face. "There was a _man_," she said, with mock -solemnity. - -"Oh! I wonder who it would be? What like was he?" - -"Tall," said Mona, ticking off his various attributes on the fingers -of her left hand, "thin, ugly, lanky. In fact,"--she broke off with -a laugh,--"in spite of his height, he conveyed a general impression -to my mind of what one of our lecturers describes as 'failure to -attain the anatomical and physiological ideal.' He was loosely hung -together like a cheap clothes-horse, and he wore his garments in much -the same fashion that a clothes-horse does." (This, as her -customer's tailor could have certified, was most unjust. A vivid -recollection of the Sahib was making Mona hypercritical.) "The down -of manhood had not settled on his upper lip with what you could call -luxuriance; he wore spectacles----" - -"Spectacles!" repeated Rachel, alighting with relief on a bit of firm -foothold in a stretch of quicksand. "You don't mean--was he a -_gentleman_?" - -"I suppose so. Yes." - -"Oh! I might have gone on guessing for an hour. You said he was a -_man_." - -"God made him, and so I was prepared to let him pass for one, as -Portia says. Did you think the term was too complimentary?" - -Rachel laughed. "Had he on a suit of dark-blue serge?" - -"Now you suggest it, I believe he had." - -"And had he a pleasant frank-like way with him?" - -"Yes." - -"It would be Dr Dudley. What was he wanting here?" - -"India-rubber." - -"Well, I am sure there was plenty of that. I got a boxful years and -years ago, and nobody has been asking for it at all lately." - -"I should imagine not," thought Mona. "Once bit, twice shy." - -"Is he the resident doctor?" she asked. - -"Oh no! He does not belong to these parts. He comes from London. -When you were going down to the braes, did you notice a big white -house with a large garden and a lodge, just at the beginning of the -Kirkstoun road?" - -"Yes--a fine house." - -"His old aunt lives there--Mistress Hamilton. She used to come here -just for the summer, and bring a number of visitors with her; but -latterly she has stayed here most of the time, unless when she is -ordered to some Spa or other. She says no air agrees with her like -this. He is her heir. She makes a tremendous work with him; I -believe he is the only living thing she cares for in the world. He -mostly spends his holidays with her, and whiles, when she's more -ailing than usual, he comes down from London on the Friday night, and -goes up again on the Sunday night." - -"He can't have a very large practice in London, surely, if he can do -that." - -"He's not rightly practising at all, yet. He has been a doctor for -some years, but he is studying for something else. I don't -understand it myself. But he is very clever; he gave me some powders -that cured my rheumatism in a few days, when Dr Burns had been -working away half the winter with lotions and fomentations, and -lime-juice, and----" - -"----alkalies," thought Mona. "Much more scientific treatment than -the empirical use of salicin." - -For Mona was young and had never suffered from rheumatism. - -"----and bandages and that," concluded Rachel. "It's some time now -since I've seen him. His aunt has been away at Strathpeffer all the -summer, and the house has been shut up." - -"But I have still another customer to account for;" and in some fear -and trembling, Mona told the story of the scullery-maid and her -bonnet. - -"My word!" said Rachel, "you gave yourself a deal of trouble. I -don't see that it matters what they wear, and the hats pay better. -Young folks will be young, you know, and for my part I don't see why -May should go like December." - -Mona sighed. "Perhaps I was wrong," she said; "I don't think it is a -common fault of mine to be too ready to interfere with other people; -but the girl looked so quiet and sensible, in spite of her trumpery -clothes. Servants never used to dress like that; but perhaps, like a -child, I have been building a little sand-dyke to prevent the tide -from coming in." - -"What I can't see is, why you should trouble yourself about what they -wear. One would think, to hear you talk, that it was a question of -honesty or religion like." - -Mona sighed again, and then laughed a little bitterly. "No doubt the -folks here could instruct me in matters of honesty and religion," she -said; "but I did fancy this morning that I could teach that child a -thing or two about her bonnet." - -"Oh, well, I daresay she'll be in on Monday morning to say she's -thought better of it." - -There was a long silence, and then Rachel went on, "My dear, how ever -did you come by that extraordinary name? I never heard the like of -it. They called your mother Margaret, didn't they?" - -"Yes, Margaret is my own second name, but I never use it. So long as -a name is distinctive, the shorter it is, the better." - -"H'm. It would have been a deal wiser-like if you'd left out the -Mona. I can't bring it over my tongue at all." - -And in fact, as long as Mona lived with her cousin, she was -constrained to answer to the appellation of "my dear." - -"My dear," said Rachel now, "I don't think I ever heard what church -you belong to." - -Mona started. "I was brought up in the Church of England," she said. - -"Surely your father never belonged to the Church of England?" - -"He usually attended the church service out in India with my mother. -I don't think he considered himself, strictly speaking, a member of -any individual church, although he was a very religious man." - -"Ay. I've heard that he wasn't exactly sound." - -"I fancy he would be considered absolutely sound now-a-days,-- - - 'For in this windy world, - What's up is faith, what's down is heresy.'" - - -Rachel looked puzzled. "Oh!" she said with sudden comprehension. -"No, no, you mustn't say that. Truth is always the same." - -"From the point of view of Deity, no doubt; but to us poor 'minnows -in the creek' every wave is practically a fresh creation." - -"I wish you'd been brought up a Baptist," said Rachel uneasily. -"It's all so simple and definite, and there's Scripture for -everything we believe. You must have a talk with the minister. He's -a grand Gospel preacher, and great at discussions on Baptist -principles." - -"Dear cousin," said Mona, "five years ago I should have enjoyed -nothing better than such a discussion, but it seems to me now that -silence is best. The faith we argue about is rarely the faith we -live by; and if it is--so much the worse for our lives." - -"But how are we to learn any better if we don't talk?" - -"Surely it is by silence that we learn the best things. It was from -the loneliness of the Mount that Moses brought down the tables of -stone." - -"I don't see what that has to do with it. There's many a one in the -town has been brought round to sound Baptist principles by a sermon, -or an argument on the subject. I believe you've no notion, my dear, -how the whole Bible, looked at in the right way, points to the fact -that the Baptists hold the true doctrine and practice. There's -Philip and the Eunuch, and the Paschal Lamb--no, that's the plan of -salvation,--and the passage of the Red Sea, and the true meaning of -the Greek word translated 'baptise.' We'd a missionary preaching -here last Sabbath, and he said he had not the smallest doubt that -China, in common with the whole world, would eventually become -Baptist. That was how he put it--'eventually become Baptist.'" - -'"A consummation devoutly to be wished,' no doubt," said Mona, "but -did the missionary point out in what respect the world would be the -'forrader'?" - -A moment later she would have given anything to recall the words. -They had slipped out almost involuntarily, and besides, she had never -lived in a Dissenting circle, and she had no conception how very real -Rachel's Baptist principles were to her, nor how she longed to -witness the surprise of the "many mighty and many wise," when, -contrary to their expectations, they beheld the whole world -"eventually become Baptist." - -"Forgive me, dear," said Mona. "I did not mean to hurt you, I am -only stupid; I don't understand these things." - -"To my mind," said Rachel severely, "obedience to the revealed will -of God is none the less a duty because our salvation does not -actually depend upon it,--though I doubt not some difference will be -made, at the last day, between those who saw His will and those who -shut their eyes and hardened their hearts. I have a very low opinion -of the Church of England myself, and Mr Stuart says the same." - -"Have you a Baptist Church here in Borrowness?" asked Mona, thinking -it well to change the subject. - -"No; though there are a good few Baptists. We walk over to -Kirkstoun. I suppose you will be going to sit under Mr Ewing?" - -"Who is he?" - -"The English Church minister. His chapel is near Mrs Hamilton's -house. He has not got the root of the matter in him at all. He's a -good deal taken up by the gentry at the Towers; and he raises prize -poultry,--queer-like occupation for a minister." - -"If it will give you any pleasure," said Mona, with rash catholicity, -"I will go to church with you every Sunday morning." - -Rachel's rubicund face beamed. - -"You will find it very quiet, after the fashionable service you're -used to," she said; "but you'll hear the true Word of God there." - -"That is saying much," said Mona rather drearily; "but I don't go to -a fashionable church in London;" and a pang of genuine home-sickness -shot through her heart, as she thought of the dear, barn-like old -chapel in Bloomsbury, whither she had gone Sunday after Sunday in -search of "beautiful thoughts." - -"You tactless brute," she said to herself as she set her candlestick -on the dressing-table that evening, "if you have only come here to -tread on that good soul's corns, the sooner you tramp back to London -the better." - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -THE CHAPEL. - -The next morning the sun rose into a cloudless blue sky, and Mona -found herself looking forward with pleasure to the walk into -Kirkstoun. The road lay along the coast, and was separated from the -sea by a stretch of yellow corn-fields. The inland scenery was flat -and tame, but, after the massive grandeur of Norway, Mona's eye -rested with quiet satisfaction on the smiling acres, cut into -squares, like a giant's chess-board, by scraggy hedges and -lichen-grown dykes. - -They had gone about half-way, when a pleasant voice behind them said, -"Good morning, Miss Simpson." - -"Oh, good morning, doctor! My dear, this is Dr Dudley." - -He lifted his hat and accommodated his long ramshackle stride to -Rachel's podgy steps. - -"How goes the rheumatism?" he asked. - -"It's wonderful, doctor. Whenever I feel a twinge, I get the chemist -to make me up some of those powders of yours, and they work like -magic." - -"That's right. You will give me a testimonial, won't you?" - -"That I will, with all my heart. But you are surely forsaking Mr -Ewing this morning? What will he say to that?" - -"Even so, Miss Simpson. Fortunately, Mr Ewing is not touchy on that -score. Your Mr Stuart asked me with charming frankness to come and -hear him, so I am taking the first opportunity of accepting his -invitation." - -"I'm glad to hear it. You will hear a very different sermon to one -of Mr Ewing's." - -He laughed. "Mr Ewing is not a Chrysostom," he said, "but he is a -good fellow and a gentleman, and in that capacity I think he has a -distinctly refining influence on his people." - -"No doubt, doctor; but don't you think it is better to have the water -of life in an earthen vessel----?" - -"Ah, yes," he said, with sudden seriousness. "If you give us the -water of life, we won't stop to criticise the bowl." - -"Well, you wait till you hear Mr Stuart." - -An almost imperceptible smile played about his mouth. He glanced at -Mona, and found her eyes fixed on his face; but she looked away -instantly. She would not be guilty of the disloyalty to Rachel -involved in the subtlest voluntary glance of comprehension; but her -face was a very eloquent one, and his short-sighted eyes were quick. - -"_Que diable allait-elle faire dans cette galère?_" he thought. - -"My dear," said Rachel to Mona, in that mysterious tone invariably -assumed by some people when they speak of things sacred, "we always -have the Communion after the morning service. Were you meaning to -stay?" - -"You would not have me, would you?" - -"You'd wonder." Rachel raised her voice. "We're very wide. Mr -Stuart has got into trouble with several other ministers in the Union -for his liberality. He says he will turn away no man who is a -converted Christian." - -Dr Dudley's eyes sparkled. "I should have thought a converted pagan -would be even dearer to Stuart's heart." - -"So he would, so he would, doctor. You know what I mean. Mr Stuart -says the simple name Christian is not sufficient nowadays, because so -many folks who call themselves by that name fight shy of the word -'converted.'" - -Again Dr Dudley glanced at Mona, but this time she was on her guard. - -"I think it is one of the grandest words I know," she said proudly, -looking straight in front of her. "But I think I won't stay to-day, -dear, thank you. Shall I wait for you?" - -"Please yourself, my dear, please yourself. There's always quite a -party of us walks home together." - -They had entered the quaint old town, and were greeted by a strong -smell of fish and of sea-weed, as they descended a steep angular -street to the shore. Here a single row of uneven shops and tenements -faced the harbour, alive to-day with the rich tints and picturesque -outlines of well-patched canvas sails; and brown-faced, flaxen-haired -babies basked on the flags at the mouths of the closes. A solitary -gig was rattling over the stones, with a noise and stir quite -disproportionate to its size and importance; and the natives, Bible -in hand, were quietly discussing the last haul of herring on their -way to the kirk. - -Rachel led the way up another steep little hill, away from the sea; -and they entered the dark, narrow, sunless street, where the chapel -stood in well-to-do simplicity, opposite a large and odoriferous -tannery. - -The interior of the chapel opened up another new corner of the world -for Mona. Fresh paint and varnish and crimson cushions gave a -general impression of smug respectability, and half the congregation -had duly assembled in Sunday attire; the women in well-preserved -Paisley shawls and purple bonnet-strings, the little girls in blue -ribbons and pink roses, and the boys severely superior in -uncompromising, ill-fitting Sabbath suits, with an extra supply of -"grease" on their home-cropped hair. Already there was a distinct -suspicion of peppermint in the atmosphere, and the hymn-books and -Bibles on the book-boards were interspersed with stray marigolds and -half-withered sprigs of southernwood. - -There was nothing remarkable about either service or sermon. The -latter was a fair average specimen of thousands that were being -delivered throughout the country at the same moment. Those in -sympathy with the preacher would have found something to -admire--those out of sympathy, something to smile at; probably there -was not a single word that would have surprised or startled any one. - -The sun became very hot about noon. The air in the chapel grew -closer and closer, the varnish on the pews more and more sticky, and -the smell of peppermint stronger every minute. A small boy beside -Mona fell asleep immediately after the first hymn; and, but for the -constant intervention of Dr Dudley, who sat behind, a well-oiled -little head would have fallen on her arm a dozen times in the course -of the service. She was thankful that she had not promised to wait -for Rachel, and as soon as the benediction had been pronounced, she -escaped into the fresh air like an uncaged bird. - -She had not walked far before she was overtaken by Dr Dudley. - -"Well," he said, "you will be glad to hear that the india-rubber has -been doing yeoman service." - -Mona bowed without replying. She was annoyed with him for entering -into conversation with her in this matter-of-course way. No doubt he -thought that a shop-girl would be only too much flattered by his -condescension. - -But Dudley was thinking more of her face than of her silence. One -did not often see a face like that. He had been watching it all -through the sermon, and it tempted him to go on. - -"Pathetic soul, that," he said. - -"Mr Stuart?" asked Mona indifferently. - -"Yes. He is quite a study to me when I come down here. He is -struggling out of the mire of mediocrity, and he might as well save -himself the trouble." - -Mona smiled in spite of herself--a quick, appreciative smile--and -Dudley hesitated no longer. - -"After undergoing agonies of doubt, and profound study--of Joseph -Cook--he has decided 'to accept evolution within limits,' as he -phrases it. I believe he never enters the pulpit now without an -agreeable and galling sense of how he might electrify his -congregation if he only chose, and of how his scientific culture is -thrown away on a handful of fisher-folk." - -Dr Dudley was amused with himself for talking in this strain; but in -his present mood he would have discussed the minister with his horse -or his dog, had either of them been his sole companion; and besides, -he was interested to see how Mona would take his character-sketch. -Would she understand his nineteenth-century jargon? - -Her answer was intelligent if non-committal. - -"He must be a man of sense and of self-repression," she said quietly. - -"Well, he does not preach the survival of the fittest and the action -of environment, certainly; but that is just where the pathos of it -comes in. If he were the man he thinks he is, he would preach those -things in spite of himself, and without his people finding it out. -The fact is, that in the course of his life he has assimilated two -doctrines, and only two,--Justification by Faith--or his own version -of the same,--and Baptism by Immersion as a profession of Faith. -Anything else that he has acquired, or will acquire, is the merest -accretion, and not a part of himself at all." - -"In other words, he resembles ninety-nine-hundredths of the human -race." - -Dudley laughed. "Perhaps," he said. "Poor Stuart! I believe that -in every new hearer he sees a possible interesting young sceptic, on -whom he longs to try the force of concession. Such a tussle is the -Ultima Thule of his ambition." - -"It seems a pity that it should not be realised. The interesting -young sceptic is a common species enough nowadays, and he rarely has -any objection to posing in that capacity." - -Dr Dudley had not been studying her for nothing all morning. Her -tone jarred on him now, and he looked at her with his quick, keen -glance. - -"I wonder how long it is----" he said, and then he decided that the -remark was quite unwarrantable. - -Mona's stiffness thawed in a quiet laugh. - -"Since I was an interesting young sceptic myself?" she said. "I -suppose I did lay myself open to that. Oh, it is a long, long time! -I don't find it easy to build a new Rome on the ashes of one that has -been destroyed." - -"Don't you!" he said, with quick comprehension. "I think I do, -rather. It is such a ghastly sensation to have no Rome. - - 'Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul--'" - - -"Go on," said Mona. - - - "'Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, - As the swift seasons roll! - Leave thy low-vaulted past. - Let each new temple, nobler than the last, - Shut thee from heaven by a dome more vast; - Till thou at length art free, - Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea!'" - - -Then suddenly it flashed on Mona wherein his great charm lay. He had -one of the most beautiful voices she had ever heard. - -"We might strike down to the beach here," he said, "and go home by -the braes. It is ever so much pleasanter." - -"Not to-day, I think," said Mona; but what she meant was, "Not with -you." - -They were deep in conversation when they reached Mrs Hamilton's gate, -and he was almost in the act of walking on with her to her own door; -but he suddenly remembered who she was, and thought better of it. -Not a very noble consideration, perhaps, when looked at from the -standpoint of eternity; but even the best of us do not at all times -look at life from the standpoint of eternity. - - -"Who is that young--person, who lives with Miss Simpson?" he asked -his aunt as they sat at lunch. He would have said "young lady" but -for Mrs Hamilton's well-known prejudices on the subject. "She seems -remarkably intelligent." - -"She's a niece, I believe. Yes, she's sensible enough. I have not -seen them since I came back." - -"But you don't mean to say her mother was Miss Simpson's sister?" - -"I suppose so. Why not?" - -"Why not? Talk of freaks of Nature! This girl seems to be a sort of -hidden genius." - -"Oh, Ralph, come!" said the old lady, with a twinkle in her eye. -"There's plenty of backbiting in Borrowness, and Miss Simpson's niece -must expect to come in for her share of it, but I never heard _that_ -said of her yet!" - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -REACTION. - -The first fortnight of Mona's stay at Borrowness was drawing to a -close, and she was wellnigh prostrated with sheer physical reaction. - -"It is certainly my due, after all the pleasant excitement of -Norway," she thought; for she would not admit, even to herself, that -the strain of settling down to these new conditions of life had taxed -her nerves more than medical study and examinations had ever been -able to do. - -She tried hard to be brave and bright, but even Rachel's unobservant -eye could not always fail to notice the contrast between her gaiety -of manner and the almost woe-begone expression which her face -sometimes wore in repose. Even the welcome arrival of the traveller, -with samples of elastic, _inter alia_, only roused her for a few -minutes from the lethargy into which she had fallen. If she could -have spent a good deal of her time at Castle Maclean, as she had -dubbed the column of rock on the beach, things would have been more -bearable; but the weather continued fine, and Rachel insisted on -making an interminable round of dreary afternoon calls. - -Day after day they put on their "best things," and sallied forth, to -sit by the hour in rose-scented parlours and exert themselves to talk -about nothing. Even in this, under ordinary circumstances, Mona -would have found abundant amusement, but it was not the most -appropriate treatment for a profound fit of depression. - -"I suppose, if I had eyes to see it, these people are all intensely -interesting," she said to herself; "but, heaven help me, I find them -as dull as ditch-water!" - -This opinion was probably mutual, for Mona's sprightliness of manner -had entirely deserted her for the moment. It was all she could do to -be tolerably amiable, and to speak when she was spoken to. Some of -the people they called upon remembered vaguely that her father had -been a great man, and treated her with exaggerated respect in -consequence; but to the majority she was simply Rachel Simpson's -cousin, a person of very small account in the Borrowness world. - -"We have still to go and see Auntie Bell," said Rachel at last; "but -we'll wait till Mr Hogg can drive us out in his machine. He is -always ready to oblige me." - -"Who is Auntie Bell?" - -"She's the same relation to me that I am to you; in fact, she's a -far-away connection of your own. She's a plain body, taken up with -her hens and her dairy,--indeed, for the matter of that, she manages -the whole farm." - -"A sort of Mrs Poyser?" - -"I don't know _her_." - -"Not know Mrs Poyser? Oh, you must let me read you about her. We -shall finish that story in the _Sunday at Home_ this evening, and -to-morrow we will begin Mrs Poyser. It's a capital story, and I -should dearly like your opinion of it." - -Rachel had not much faith in the attractions of any story recommended -by Mona; but, if it was about a farmer's wife, it must surely be at -least comprehensible, and probably more or less interesting. - -The next morning Mona was alone in the shop. Her fairy fingers had -wrought a wonderful change in her surroundings, but it seemed to her -now in her depression that she might better have let things alone. -"Oh, reform it altogether!" she said bitterly. "What's the use of -patching--_what's the use?_" - -The shop-bell rang sharply, and Dr Dudley came in. It was a relief -to see some one quite different from the people with whom her social -intercourse had lain of late. - -"Good morning," he said. "How are you?" - -"Good morning," said Mona. - -She ignored his offered hand, but she was surprised to hear herself -answering unconventionally. - -"I am bored," she said, "to the last limit of endurance." - -He drew down his brows with a frown of sympathy. - -"Are you?" he said. "What do you do for it?" - -"I do believe he is going to recommend Easton's Syrup!" thought Mona. - -"Ah, that's the trouble," she said. "I am not young enough to write -a tragedy, so there is nothing for it but to grin and bear it." - -"You ought to go out for a regular spin," he said kindly. "There's -nothing like that for blowing away the cobwebs." - -"I can't to-day, but to-morrow I am going for a twenty-mile walk -along the coast"--"botanising," she was about to add, but she thought -better of it. - -"Don't overdo it," he said. "If you are not in training, twenty -miles is too much," and his eye rested admiringly on her figure, as -the Sahib's had done only a fortnight before. He was thinking that -if his aunt's horse were less fat, and her carriage less heavy, and -the world constructed on different principles generally, he would -like nothing better than to take this bright young girl for a good -rattle across the county. - -"I think I am in pretty fair training, thank you. Can I show you -anything this morning?" For Mona wished it to be understood that no -young man was at liberty to drop into the shop for the sole purpose -of gossip. - -He sighed. "What have you got that is in the least likely to be of -the smallest use to me at any future period of my life?" he felt half -inclined to say; but instead, he bought some pens--which he certainly -did not want--and showed no sign of going. - -"My dear," called Rachel's anxious voice, "come here quick, will you? -Sally has cut her finger to the bone!" - -"Allow me," said Dr Dudley, taking a neat little surgical case from -his pocket. "That is more in my line than yours, I think," and he -hastily left the room. - -"_Is_ it indeed!" said Mona saucily to herself, drawing the -counterpart of his case from her own pocket. "Set you up!" - -She was about to follow him, "to hold the forceps," as she said, when -the bell rang again, and two red-haired, showily-dressed girls -entered the shop. They seemed surprised to see Mona there, and -looked at her critically. - -"Some blue ribbon," said one of them languidly, with a comical -affectation of _hauteur_. - -Mona laid the box on the counter, and they ran their eyes over the -poor little store. - -"No, there is nothing there that will do." - -Mona bowed, and replaced the box on the shelf. - -"You don't mean to say that is all you've got! Why, it is not even -fresh. Some of it is half faded." - -"Truly," said Mona quietly. "I suppose you will be able to get what -you want elsewhere." - -"I told you it was no use, Matilda, in a place like this," said the -elder of the two, looking contemptuously round the shop. "Pa will be -driving us in to St Rules in a day or two. There are some decent -shops there." - -"What is the use of that when I want it to-night? Just let me see -the box again." - -She took up the least impossible roll of ribbon and regarded it -critically. - -"You can't possibly take that, Matilda. Every shop-girl wears that -shade." - -Matilda nudged her sister violently, and they both strove to prevent -a giggle from getting the better of their dignity. Fortunately, when -they looked at Mona, she seemed to be quite unconscious of this -little by-play. The younger was the first to recover herself. - -"I will take two yards of that," she said, trying to make up for her -momentary lapse by increased formality, and she threw -half-a-sovereign on the counter, without inquiring the price. - -Mona had just given her the parcel and the change, when Rachel came -in full of obsequious interest, and inquiries about "your pa" and -"your ma"; so Mona withdrew to the other side of the shop. - -"I see you have got a new assistant, Miss Simpson," said Matilda -patronisingly. - -"I'm happy to say I have,--a relation of my own, too,--Miss Maclean." - -Rachel meant it for an informal introduction, but Mona did not raise -her eyes from the wools she was arranging. - -"You will be glad to hear that the wound is a very trifling one," -said Dr Dudley's pleasant voice a moment later, as he re-entered the -shop and walked straight up to Mona. "Good morning." In spite of -his previous rebuff, he held out his hand cordially, and, although -Mona was somewhat amused, she appreciated the kindness of his motive -too warmly to refuse his hand again. - -And indeed it was a pleasant hand to take--firm, "live," brotherly, -non-aggressive. - -But she responded to his salutation with a very audible, "Good -morning, sir." - -"Damnation!" he said to himself, "the girl is as proud as Lucifer. -She might have left the 'sir' alone for once." - -From which you will perceive that Dr Dudley had heard something of -the conversation which had just taken place, had guessed a little -more, and had resolved in a very friendly spirit to play the part of -a _deus ex machinâ_. - -He went out of the shop in company with the red-haired girls. - -"Do you know that young woman is a relation of Miss Simpson's?" asked -one of them. - -"I do." - -"She might be a duchess from the airs she gives herself," said the -other. - -Dr Dudley was silent. It would be a gratuitous exaggeration to say -that Mona would grace that or any other position, although the -contrast she presented to these two girls made him feel strongly -inclined to do so; and in any case it was always a mistake to show -one's hand. - -"Well, you needn't have said that about shop-girls all the same," -said Matilda. - -"I don't care! It would do her good to be taken down a peg." - -"Ah, Miss Cookson," said Dr Dudley, thankfully seizing his -opportunity, "don't you think it is dangerous work trying to take -people down a peg? It requires such a delicate hand, that I never -attempt it myself. One is so very apt to take one's self down -instead." - -He lifted his hat with a short "Good morning," and strode away in the -opposite direction. - -"Where were your eyes?" said Rachel, when the customers had left the -shop. "Miss Cookson was going to shake hands with you, I believe; -and they're the richest people in Borrowness." - -"Thank you very much, dear," replied Mona quietly, "but one must draw -the line somewhere. If our customers have less manners than Mrs -Sanderson's pig, I will serve them to the best of my ability, but I -must decline the honour of their personal acquaintance." - -This explanation was intended mainly as a quiet snub to Rachel. In -the life at Borrowness, nothing tried Mona more sorely than the way -in which her cousin truckled to every one whom she considered her -social superior; and it was almost unavoidable that Mona herself -should be driven to the opposite extreme in her morbid resolution -that no one should consider her guilty of the same meanness. "I -don't suppose for a moment that those girls would bow to Rachel in -the streets of St Rules," she thought. "Why can she not be content -to look upon them as customers and nothing more?" - -Poor Mona! She was certainly learning something of the seamiest side -of the "wide, puzzling subject of compromise." Hitherto she had been -responsible for herself alone, and so had lived simply and frankly; -but now a thousand petty considerations were forced upon her in spite -of herself, because she felt responsible for her cousin too. - -"Well, they do say the Cooksons are conceited and stiff," said -Rachel, "but they're always pleasant enough to me." - -She found considerable satisfaction afterwards, however, in detailing -to one of her friends how Mona had taken the bull by the horns, and -had attributed the stiffness on which the Cooksons so prided -themselves to simple want of manners. She felt as the people did in -Hans Andersen's story when the first voice had found courage to say, -"But he has got nothing on!" and she never again absolutely grovelled -before the Cooksons. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - -THE BOTANISTS. - -Immediately after breakfast the next morning, Mona slung her vasculum -over her shoulder, strapped a business-like spud round her waist, -tucked a well-worn _Hooker_ under her arm, and set off at a good -brisk pace. Contrary to all expectations, the rain still held off; -and, as physical exercise brought the blood to her face, the clouds -of her depression rolled away like mountain mists in the sunshine. - -She kept to the highroad for the first few miles, and then, when she -was well past the haunts of men, struck on to the glorious, -undulating, sandy dunes. - -Botanising was not very easy work now, for most of the plants were in -fruit, and sometimes not even the youngest member of an inflorescence -persisted, as a pale stray floret, to proclaim the pedigree of its -family. But Mona was no tyro in the work, and her vasculum filled up -steadily. Moreover, she was not disposed to quarrel with anything -to-day, and when she reached the extreme easterly point of the -county, and stood all alone at the water's edge, she felt the same -sense of exultation and proprietorship that she had experienced on -the wild pack-horse track above the Nærodal. - -All at once her eye caught sight of some showy purple blossoms. -"Eldorado yo he trovado!" she cried. "I verily believe it is a -sea-rocket." She transferred it to her vasculum, and seated herself -on a rock for a few minutes' rest. She proceeded to undo her packet -of sandwiches, singing to herself all the time, as was her habit when -light-hearted and quite alone; but the words that came into her head -were not always so appropriate as on the occasion of her first visit -to the beach; and at the present moment she was proclaiming with all -the emphasis befitting a second encore-- - - "Fo--r he's going to marry Yum-Yum"-- - -when a sudden intuition made her look round, and, to her horror, she -saw two men regarding her with an amused smile. - -One was elderly, ruddy, and commonplace; the other was young, sallow, -mournful, and interesting. Both carried vasculums a good deal more -battered and weather-beaten than Mona's own. - -She coloured up to the roots of her hair, and then made the best of -the situation, laughing quietly, and proceeding with her sandwiches -the while. - -The ruddy man lifted his hat with a friendly bow. "But for the -nineteenth-century character of your song," he said, "I should have -taken you for the nymph of the coast." - -"In a go-ahead county like this," said Mona gravely, returning his -bow, "even the nymph of the coast is expected to keep pace with the -times." - -"True," he said. "I had forgotten where I was. Has the nymph of the -coast got anything interesting in her vasculum?" - -"Nothing really rare, I fear, though I have found a good deal that is -new to me. Oh, by the way, I found a plant of penny-cress in some -waste ground near Kilwinnie. Is that common here?" - -"_Thlaspi arvense?_" he said sceptically, looking at his sallow -companion. - -The younger man shook his head. "I never saw it in the -neighbourhood," he said. - -"I am quite open to conviction, of course," said Mona. and, -rummaging in her vasculum, she produced a bunch of large, flat, green -"pennies." - -"Right," chuckled the elder man triumphantly--"see that?" - -"Y-e-s. It's curious I never saw it before--and near Kilwinnie, too. -But it seems all right; it is not likely to be a garden escape." - -And they proceeded to compare specimens with much interest and -enthusiasm. - -"We intended to go on a little farther," said the elderly gentleman -at last. "As you are botanising also, perhaps you will join us?" - -Mona assented gladly, and they walked together a few miles along the -coast, before turning back towards Kilwinnie. - -"I suppose you have done no microscopic botany?" said her friend -suddenly. - -This, from Rachel's point of view, was approaching dangerous ground; -but she was never likely to see these men again. They did not look -like natives. - -"Yes, I have done a little," said Mona. "I have attended a botany -class." - -"Indeed! May I ask where?" - -"In London"--and as he still looked at her enquiringly, "at -University College," she added. - -"_Oh_! Then you _have_ studied botany! But they did not teach you -there to spot _Thlaspi arvense_?" - -"No; I taught myself that before I began to study botany. I think it -is a pity that that part of the subject is so much ignored." - -"But botany, as taught at present, is much more scientific. -Old-fashioned botany--especially as taught to ladies--was a happy -combination of pedestrianism and glorified stamp-collecting." - -"True," said Mona, "and if one had to choose between the old and the -new, one would choose the new without a moment's hesitation; but, on -the other hand, it does give the enemy occasion to blaspheme, when a -man can tell them that a flower is composite, proterandrous, -syngenesious, &c., but when he is quite unable to designate it by its -simple name of dandelion." - -Both the men laughed. - -When they reached Kilwinnie, the elder of the two stopped and held -out his hand. - -"I am sorry we cannot offer to see you home," he said; "but the fact -is, dinner is waiting for me now at the inn, and I start for London -to-night. If you are ever in town again, my wife and I will be only -too pleased to see you," and he handed her his card. - -He did not ask her name, for the simple reason that he had already -seen it in the beginning of her _Flora_. - -When Mona looked at the card, she found that she had been spending -the afternoon with a scientist of European celebrity. - -"If redbeard be that," she said, "what must blackbeard be, and why -did he not give me his card too?" - -She walked on at a good pace, realising only when she saw the lights -of Kirkstoun, how dark it had grown. As she passed the post-office, -she saw a knot of men assembled at the counter; for, in an -unobtrusive way, the Kirkstoun post-office--which was also a -flourishing grocer's shop--served many of the purposes of a club. -This it did the more effectually as the only female assistant was a -wrinkled and spiteful old woman, whose virgin ears could not be -injured by any ordinary masculine gossip. - -Scarcely had Mona left this rendezvous behind her when she was -overtaken by Dr Dudley. - -"You are very late," he said simply. - -"Yes, but I have had a glorious time." - -"You are tired?" - -"Healthily tired." - -"Cobwebs all gone?" - -"Oh yes! In fact, they had begun to go when I saw you yesterday, or -I could not have spoken of them." - -"Poor little soul!" he thought to himself, wondering how she escaped -melancholia in the narrow limits of her life. - -"You did not really mind those vulgar girls yesterday," he went on -awkwardly, after a pause. - -For a moment she could not think what he was referring to. - -"Oh no!" she said at last, with wide-open eyes of wonder. "How could -I? They don't come into my world at all. Neither their opinion of -me, nor their want of manners, can possibly affect me." - -"That is certainly the sensible way to look at it." - -"I don't know, after all, whether it is the right way. Probably -their vulgarity is all on the surface. I believe there are thousands -of girls like that who only want some large-souled woman to take them -by the hand, and draw out their own womanhood. How can they help it -if their life has been barren of ideals?" - -He made a mental survey of the women in the neighbourhood, in search -of some one capable of performing such a function. - -"What a pity it is that they cannot see _you_ as you are," he said, -looking at the dim outline of her face. "Large-souled women do not -grow on every hedge." - -"Perhaps it would be more to the purpose if I could see myself as -they see me," she answered thoughtfully. "After all, with the -honestest intentions, we scan our lives as we do our own poetry, -laying stress on the right syllables, and passing lightly over a -halting foot. You force me to confess that I said some very -ill-natured things about those girls after they were gone; and I had -not their excuse of being still in the chrysalis stage. They may -make better butterflies than I yet. Even a woman can never tell how -a girl is going to turn out." - -He laughed. "What is bred in the bone--" he said, "Their mother is -my ideal of all that is vulgar and pretentious." - -"Poor children!" said Mona. - -"And the best of it is," he said, "that she began life as a small----" - -He stopped short and the blood rushed over his face. - -"Well," said Mona quietly, "as a what?" - -"_Milliner_," he said, kicking a stone violently out of his way, in a -tempest of anger at his own stupidity. - -"You don't mean to say," said Mona, "that you were afraid of hurting -my feelings? Oh, please give me credit for having the soul of a -human being!" - -He walked with her to her own door that night. It was after dark, to -be sure, but I am inclined to think that he might have done the same -had it been noonday; and when he got home he asked his aunt no more -questions about "Miss Simpson's niece." - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -"JOHN HOGG'S MACHINE." - -"He is curiously _simpatico_," said Mona to herself the next morning. -"I don't know that I ever knew any one with whom I felt less -necessity for clearing up my fog-beswathed utterances, or for -breaking down my brilliant metaphors in milk; it is pleasant to be -able to walk straight off into the eternals with somebody; but I like -a man to be more of a healthy animal." And a sunshiny memory passed -through her mind of the "moral Antiseptic," the dear brotherly Sahib. - -"I wonder who the other botanist was?" she went on presently, -tumbling her pillows into a more comfortable position. "The -Professor's assistant perhaps, or possibly a professor himself. He -certainly was a scientist, every inch of him, from his silent tongue -to the tips of his ill-groomed fingers." - -It would have surprised her not a little if she could have seen the -subject of her speculations an hour or so later. He was sitting -behind the counter of a draper's shop in Kilwinnie, his head resting -on his hand in an attitude of the deepest dejection. Mona was -perfectly right when she declared him to be every inch a scientist; -he was more so perhaps than even the great Professor himself: but the -lines had fallen unto him in a narrow little world, where his studies -were looked upon as mere vagaries, on a par with kite-making and -bullet-casting; where his college classes at St Rules had to be paid -for out of his own carefully saved pocket-money; where his -experiments and researches had to be conducted in a tumble-down -summer-house at the foot of the old garden; and where, at the age of -twenty, he was left an orphan with four grown-up sisters to support. - -Had they all lived thirty years later, or in a less secluded part of -the world, the sisters would probably have looked out for themselves, -and have left their brother to make a great name, or to starve in a -garret over his weeds and his beetles, according as the Fates might -decree; but such an idea never occurred to any one of the five, -although the sisters had all received sufficient instruction in -music, painting, and French, to make them rather hard to please in -the matter of husbands. - -The lad was cut out for patient, laborious, scientific research, and -he knew it; but with four sisters on one's hands, and a balance at -the bank scarcely large enough to meet doctor's bills and funeral -expenses, scientific research seems sadly vague and indefinite, while -a well-established drapery business is at least "something to lippen -to." - -So he laid aside his plans, and took up the yardstick as a mere -matter of course, without any posing and protestations even to -himself. - -He so far asserted himself, that the microscope, the _hortus siccus_, -and the neat pine-wood cabinets, took up a place of honour in the -house, instead of skulking in out-of-the-way corners; but now that -fifteen years had passed away, although he was known to all the -initiated as the greatest living authority on the fauna and flora of -the eastern part of the county, he was beginning to pursue his hobby -at rarer intervals and in a more dilettante spirit. Now and then -when some great scientist came into the neighbourhood, and appealed -to him as to the habitat of this and as to the probable extinction of -that, when his personal convoy on an expedition was looked upon as an -honour and a great piece of luck, when in the course of walks round -the coast he drank in the new theories of which the scientific world -was talking, he felt some return of the old fire; but in the main, to -the great relief of his sisters, he was settling down into a good and -useful burgher, with a place on the town council and on sundry local -boards, with an excellent prospect of the provostship, and with no -time for such frivolities as butterfly-hunting and botanising. - -When his acquaintances questioned him, he always stated his -conviction that he had chosen, on the whole, the better part; but he -never gave any account of hours like the present, in which he loathed -the very thought of civic honours and dignity, and in which he -painted to himself in glowing colours the life that might have been. - -He was thinking much just now of the burly old professor whose visit -he had keenly enjoyed; and more even than of the professor he was -thinking of Mona Maclean. All things are relative in life. Scores -of men had met Mona who had scarcely looked at her a second time. -She might be nothing and nobody in the great bright world of London; -but into this man's dark and lonely life she had come like a meteor. -He could scarcely have told what it was that had fascinated him. It -was partly her bright young face, though he dreaded good-looking -women; partly her light-hearted song, though he scorned frivolous -women; partly her botany, though he laughed at learned women; and -partly her frank outspoken manner, though he hated forward women. -She bore no smallest resemblance to the mental picture that had -sometimes floated vaguely before him of a possible helpmeet for him; -and yet, and yet--look where he would, he could see her sitting on -that rock, with all the light of the dancing waves in her eyes,--the -veritable spirit of the coast as the professor had said. He even -found himself trying to hum in a very uncertain bass, - - "For he's going to marry Yum-Yum;" - -but this was a _reductio ad absurdum_, and with a heavy frown he -proceeded to make out some bills. - -It never occurred to him to question that she was far out of his -reach. Anybody, he thought, could see at a glance that she was a -lady, in a different sense from that in which his sisters bore the -name. It was right and fitting that the great professor should give -her his card, but who was he--the draper of Kilwinnie--that he should -suggest another meeting? - -But the second meeting was nearer than either he or Mona anticipated. - -"We're going to take tea with Auntie Bell this afternoon," said -Rachel next day. "Mr Hogg is going in to Kilwinnie on business, and -he says if we don't mind waiting half an hour in the town, he will -drive us on to Balbirnie. I want to buy a couple of mats at Mr -Brown's; you can depend on the quality there better than anywhere -here or in Kirkstoun; and we'll just wait in the shop till Mr Hogg is -ready." - -"But can he spare the time?" asked Mona uneasily. She knew that -Rachel could quite well afford to hire a trap now and then. - -"Oh, he's always glad to have a crack with Auntie Bell, not to say a -taste of her scones and cream. She is a great hand at scones." - -This was magnanimous on Rachel's part, for her own scones were tough -and heavy, and--though that, of course, she did not know--constituted -one of the minor trials of Mona's life. - -"But, dear," said Mona, "we are neglecting the shop dreadfully -between us." - -"Oh, Sally can mind it all right when she's cleaned herself in the -afternoon. She is only too glad of a gossip with anybody. It is not -as if it was for a constancy like; this is our last call in the -meantime. Now the folks will begin to call on us, and some of them -will ask us to tea." - -Mona tried to smile cordially, but the prospect was not entrancing. - -About half-past two, Mr Hogg came round in his "machine." Now -"machine," as we all know, is a radical and levelling word, and in -this case it was a question of levelling up, not of levelling down, -for Mr Hogg's machine was simply a tradesman's cart. It was small, -to be sure, and fairly new and fresh, and nicely varnished, but no -one could look at it and doubt that it was what Lucy would have -called a "common or garden" cart. Rachel and Mona got in with some -difficulty, and they started off along the Kirkstoun road. Here they -met Dr Dudley. His short-sighted eyes would never have recognised -them had not Rachel leaned forward and bowed effusively; then he -lifted his hat and passed on. - -They rattled through the streets of Kirkstoun, past the post-office, -the tannery, the Baptist chapel, and other buildings of importance; -and then drove out to Kilwinnie, where Mr Hogg politely deposited -them at Mr Brown's door. - -Here, then, Mona saw her "professor" measuring out a dress length of -lilac print for a waiting servant-girl, and here the draper saw his -fairy princess, his spirit of the coast, alighting with as much grace -as possible from John Hogg's cart. - -Mr Brown knew Rachel Simpson. She stopped occasionally to purchase -something from him on her way to Auntie Bell's; his sisters often -amused themselves by laughing at her dress, and the traveller told -him comical stories about the way in which she kept shop. - -For it must be clearly understood that Mr Brown's shop was a very -different thing from Rachel Simpson's. It was well stocked with -substantial goods, and was patronised by all the people round about -who really respected themselves. It was no place for "bargains" in -the modern sense of the word. It was a commercial eddy left behind -by the tide in days when things were expected to wash and to wear. -There was no question here of "locking the door, and letting folks -see that you did not require to keep the shop." A place like this -must, on the face of it, be the chief aim and end of somebody's -existence. - -Rachel's descent from the cart was a somewhat tedious process, but at -length it was accomplished successfully, and Mr Hogg drove away, -promising to return for them in half an hour. - -Poor Rachel was not a little flattered by the draper's cordial -greeting. Leaving the "young man" to do up the print, he came -forward, with stammering, uncertain words indeed, but with a beaming -smile and outstretched hand. And he might be Provost next year! - -"This is my cousin, Miss Maclean," she said. - -Mr Brown looked absolutely petrified. - -"I think we have met before," said Mona, not a little surprised -herself, taking his offered hand. "This is one of the gentlemen, -dear, who helped me with my plants." - -"Oh," said Rachel rather blankly. - -It had required all her "manners" to keep her from giving Mona a -candid opinion of the common weeds which were the sole fruit of a -long day's ramble, and Rachel had a very poor opinion of any man who -could occupy himself with such trash. But, to be sure, he was a good -draper--and he might be Provost next year! - -And then he was so very cordial and friendly--that in itself would -have covered a multitude of sins. As soon as Rachel had made up her -mind about the mats, he hastened up-stairs, and returned with a -stammering invitation from his sisters. Would Miss Simpson and her -cousin come up to the drawing-room and wait there? When Mona came to -know a little more of the Brown _ménage_, she wondered how in the -world he had ever succeeded in getting that invitation. - -But up-stairs they went, and were graciously received by the sisters. -Mr Brown was wildly happy, and utterly unable to show himself to any -advantage. He wandered aimlessly about, showing Mona this and that, -and striving vainly to utter a single sentence consecutively. - -"Can't you have tea?" he said in a stage-whisper to his sister. - -"Oh, thank you," interposed Rachel with a somewhat oleaginous smile, -"it's very kind, I'm sure, but we're on our way to Mrs Easson's, and -we won't spoil our appetites." - -"Are you going to be here long?" said the draper to Mona. - -"At Borrowness? A few months, I expect." - -"Then you'll be doing some more botanising?" - -"Oh yes." - -"There's some very nice things a little bit farther round the coast -than we went the other day. Would you come some time with my sister -and me?" - -"I should be very glad indeed," said Mona warmly. "It is an immense -advantage to go with some one who knows the neighbourhood." - -"Well, we will arrange the day--later on," and he sighed; "but it -won't do to wait too long now." - -At this moment Mr Hogg rattled up to the door, and the draper went -down and helped his visitors into the cart. - -"Why, I declare he's getting to be quite a lady's man," said Rachel -when they were well out of hearing. "I wonder what his sisters would -say if he was to get married after all." - -Meanwhile the Browns discussed their visitors, - -"It's last year's mantle," said Number one, "but the bonnet's new." - -"And what a bonnet!" said Number two. - -"And she still shows two or three good inches of red wrist between -her glove and her sleeve," said Number three, "Nobody would think -that girl was her cousin." - -"She's not at all pretty," said Number four, "but she's quite -ladylike. Do you know what she is, Philip?" - -"I don't," he said nervously, "but I fancy she must be a teacher or -something of that kind. She has been very well educated." - -"Ah, that would account for it," said Number two. "It must be a nice -change for her to come and stay with Miss Simpson." - -The draper stood at the window counting up his happiness. There was -not a snobbish line in his nature, and Mona was not any the less a -fairy princess in his eyes because she seemed suddenly to have come -within his reach. He knew his sisters did not want him to marry, and -he was grateful to them now for having crushed in the bud certain -little fancies in the past; but if he once made up his mind,--he -laughed to himself as he thought how little their remonstrances would -weigh with him. Of course there was a great chance that so bright -and so clever a girl might refuse him; but fifteen years of his -sisters' influence had not taught him to exaggerate this probability, -and in that part of the country there is a strong superstition to the -effect that a woman teacher is not likely to refuse what is commonly -known as "an honest man's love." - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - -AUNTIE BELL. - -The slanting rays of the afternoon sun were throwing the old -farmhouse, with its goodly barns and well-built stacks, into mellow -lights and warm brown shadows, when Mr Hogg's pony drew up at the -garden-gate. Before they had time to get down, Auntie Bell came out -to greet them,--such a queer little woman, bent half double, and -peering up at her visitors through her gold spectacles with keen -expressive eyes. There was force of character in every line of her -face and figure, even in the dowdy cap, the grey wincey gown, and -snow-white apron. - -"Why, it's Rachel Simpson," she said. "Come awa' ben. Dick'll tak' -the powny." - -"This is my cousin, Miss Maclean," said Rachel. - -"Mona Maclean," corrected the owner of the name. - -Auntie Bell gripped her hand and studied her face with as little -regard to her feelings as if she had been a horse or a cow, the -furrow on her own brow deepening the while. - -"Eh, but she's like her faither," she said. "The mooth an' the -chin----" - -"Yes," said Rachel shortly. The subject of Mona's father was not a -congenial one. - -"What w'y are ye no' mairrit yet?" continued Auntie Bell severely, -still maintaining her grasp of Mona's hand. - -"'Advanced women don't marry, sir, she said,'" were the first words -that passed through Mona's mind, but she paraphrased them. "We don't -marry now," she said. "It's gone out of fashion." - -The muscles of Auntie Bell's face relaxed. - -"Hoot awa'," she said. "Wait ye till a braw young man comes -alang----" - -"You will dance at my wedding then, won't you?" - -"That will I!" and Auntie Bell executed a momentary _pas seul_ on the -spot. - -She stopped abruptly and drew down her brows with all her former -gravity. - -"I hope ye're cliver," she said. - -"Thank you. As folks go nowadays, I think I am pretty fair." - -"Ye had need be, wi' a faither like yon." - -"Ah," said Mona with sudden gravity, "I was not thinking of him. I -am not clever as he was." - -"Na, na, I was thinkin' that. He was"--this with great emphasis--"as -fine a mon as iver I saw." - -"But did you know him? I did not know that he was ever in this part -of the country." - -"Ay was he! He cam' ae day, it may be five-an'-twinty year -syne--afore there was ony word o' you, maybe. He was keen to see the -hoose whaur his faither was born, and we'd a crack aboot the auld -folks, him and me. Rachel Simpson was at Dundee than. My word! ye'd -hae thocht I'd been the finest leddy at the Towers. But come awa' -ben, an' I'll mask the tea." - -"Ye'll find the place in an awfu' disorder," she went on to Rachel as -they entered the spotless parlour. "I'm that hadden doon o' the -hairvest, I've no' got my back strauchten'd up sin' it commenced;" -and she bustled in and out of the kitchen getting the tea. - -"You don't let the girls do enough," said Rachel. - -"The lassies! Hoot awa'. I canna bide their slatternly w'ys i' the -hoose. I'm best pleased when they're oot-bye." - -"You havena been to see me for many a long day." - -"Me! I've no' been onywhere; I've no' seen onybody. I've no' been -to the kirk sin' I canna tell ye whan. What w'y would I? The folk -wad a' be lauchin' at daft auld Auntie Bell wi' her bent back. The -meenister was here seein' me. He cam' that day o' the awfu' rain, -his umberella wrang side oot, an' his face blue wi' the cauld--ye ken -what a thin, feckless body he is. 'Come awa', ye puir cratur,' says -I, 'come awa' ben tae the fire.' An' he draws himsel' up, an' says -he, 'Why say, poor creature?'--like that, ye ken--'why say, poor -creature?'" And Auntie Bell clapped her hand on her knee, and -laughed at the recollection. - -At this moment Mr Hogg and Auntie Bell's husband--a person of no -great account--passed the window on their way into the house. - -"Come awa' tae yer tea, Mr Hogg. Hoot, Dauvid, awa' an' pit on -anither coat. Ye're no' fit tae speak tae the leddies." - -David meekly withdrew. - -"We were in seeing the Browns," said Rachel complacently. "They were -wanting us to stay to tea." - -"Ay! I've no' seen them this mony a day." - -"How is he getting on, do you know, in the way of business?" asked Mr -Hogg. - -Auntie Bell brought the palm of her hand emphatically down on the -table. - -"A' thing i' that shop is guid," she said. "I'm perfectly convinced -o' that; but ye can get things a deal cheaper i' the toon nor ye can -wi' Maister Brown, an' folks think o' naething but that. I aye deal -wi' him mysel'. He haena just a gift for the shop-keepin', but he's -been mair wise-like lately, less taen up wi' his butterflies an' -things." - -Before her visitors had finished tea, Auntie Bell was hard at work, -in spite of a mild remonstrance from Rachel, packing a fat duck and -some new-laid eggs for them to take home with them. Something of the -kind was the invariable termination of Rachel's visits, but she would -not have thought it "manners" to accept the basket without a good -deal of pressing. - -Mr Hogg was beginning to get impatient before the "ladies" rose to go. - -"I'll see ye intae the cairt," said Auntie Bell to Mona, when the -first farewells had been said, "Rachel'll come whan she gits on her -bannet." - -As soon as they were in the garden, the old woman laid her hand -impressively on Mona's arm. - -"Are ye onything weel pit up wi' Rachel?" she whispered. - -"Oh yes, indeed." - -Auntie Bell shook her head. "It's no' the place for the like o' -you," she said, and then further conversation was prevented by Miss -Simpson's appearance. - -"Well, you'll be in to see us soon," she said. - -"Eh, I daursay you'll be here again first." - -"_I_ will, certainly," said Mona. "I mean to walk out and see you -some day." - -"Hoot awa', lassie. It's ower far. Ye canna walk frae Borrowness. -Tak' the train----" - -"Can't I?" laughed Mona, as Mr Hogg drove off. - -"Why, why, _why_," she thought as they trotted down to Kilwinnie, -"did not the Fates give me Auntie Bell for my hostess instead of -Rachel Simpson?" - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - -A SILHOUETTE. - -About a week after Mona's visit to Auntie Bell, Dr Dudley was sitting -alone in the dining-room at Carlton Lodge. It was nearly midnight, -and a terrific storm was raging outside. One of the great trees at -the foot of the garden had been blown down into the road, carrying -with it a piece of the wall; and the wind roared round the lonely -house like a volley of artillery. - -Within, a bright wood-fire was reflected dimly on the oak wainscot, -and a shaded lamp threw a brilliant light on scattered books and -papers, shrouding the rest of the room in suggestive shadows. - -Dr Dudley rose to his feet, and kicked a footstool across the room. -You would scarcely have recognised his face as the one that had -smiled at Mona across the counter. The wind played on his nerves as -if they had been an instrument, but he was not thinking of the storm. - -"Three years more before I can begin to do a man's work in the -world," he said, "and nearly thirty lie behind me! It is enough to -make one make tracks for the gold-fields to-morrow. What surety have -I that all my life won't drift, drift, drift away, as the last thirty -years have done? Upon my soul"--he drew up the blind and looked out -on the darkness, which only threw back his image and that of the -room--"I envy the poor devils who are called out to their patients in -this tempest, for shilling or half-crown fees!" - -He was young, you see, but not very young; for, instead of indulging -in further heroics, he bit his lip and returned to his books and -papers. "_Hier oder nirgends ist Amerika!_" He drew down his brows, -and read aloud from the mighty tome at his side, stopping now and -then to add a few lines to the diagram before him. - -He held very strongly that, in addition to practical work, which was -wellnigh everything, there was only one way of mastering anything -approaching an exact science. Firstly, get the best handbook extant; -secondly, read the diagrams only; thirdly, read the diagrams, -letterpress and all; fourthly, read letterpress alone, constructing -your own diagrams as you go. "For after all," he said, "another -man's diagrams are but crutches at the best. It is only when you -have assimilated a subject, and projected it again through the medium -of your own temperament, that it is of any practical use to you, or -indeed has any actual existence for you personally." - -His opinion ought to have been of some value, for the study of an -exact science was by no means the work for which his mind was best -fitted; and it is not those whom Nature has endowed with a "royal -road" to the attainment of any subject who are best able to direct -their fellows. - -The clock was striking two when he closed his books and extinguished -the lamp. It was not his custom to work so late; he was oddly -rational in such ways; but he had learned by experience that to act -on the principle that "_Hier oder nirgends ist Amerika_" was the only -cure--sometimes, alas! not a very effectual one--for moods of -depression and bitter self-reproach. - -The hurricane had raged for several days, but next morning the sun -shone down on a smiling innocent world, with a pleasant suggestion of -eternal renewal. - -"I am going for a long drive past Kilwinnie," said Mrs Hamilton at -lunch. "I am perishing for lack of fresh air; and I want you to go -with me, Ralph." - -"I am sorry I can't," he said shortly. It must be confessed that Dr -Dudley was a man of moods. - -"Oh, nonsense, Ralph! You have poked over those horrid books for -days. You refused to come the last time I asked you, and that was -centuries ago, before the storm began. I can't have you always -saying 'No.'" - -"It is a pity I did not learn to say 'No' a little earlier in life," -he said gloomily; and then, with a dismal sense that the old lady was -mainly dependent on him for moral sunshine, he got up and laid his -hand on her shoulder-- - - "'I have been the sluggard, and must ride apace, - For now there is a lion in the way,'" - -he said, striving to speak cheerfully. - -"I declare, Ralph, any one would think, to hear you talk, that you -were a worn-out _roué_. What would have become of me for the last -two years if you had been in busy practice? You know quite well that -one might walk from Land's End to John o' Groat's in search of your -equal in general culture. Professor Anderson was saying to me only -the other day that it was impossible to find you tripping. Whether -the conversation turned on some unheard-of lake in Central Africa, or -the philosophy of Hegel, or Coptic hymnology, or Cistercian hill -architecture of the Transition Period, you were as much at home as if -it was the weather that was under discussion. I told him he might -have included the last new thing in bonnets." - -"No, no," said Ralph, laughing in spite of himself. "That was too -bad. You know I draw the line there. These things are too wonderful -for me." - -"But you will come with me, won't you?" - -"You coaxing old humbug!" he said affectionately, "I suppose I must. -It will only mean burning a little more of the midnight oil. What -havoc you must have wrought when you were young, if you understood a -man's weakness for flattery as well as you do now!" - -"Ah, but I did not," she responded quietly, having gained her point. -"It takes a lifetime to fathom it." - -He laughed again, kissed her on the forehead, and consented to have -some tart after all. People were rather at fault who thought the old -aunt poor company for the clever young doctor. - -In due time the sleek old coachman brought round the sleek old horse, -and they set off at a quiet trot along the level highroad. - -"We must stop at Kirkstoun and speak to Hutchison about getting the -wall put up," said Mrs Hamilton. "Well, it is like losing an old -friend to see that tree! But we shall be at no loss for firewood -during the winter. We shall have some royal Yule-logs, well -seasoned, to welcome you back." - -"Do," he said. "There is nothing like them after meagre London -fires; and you know we must make the most of my Christmas visit. If -you keep pretty strong, I must not come back till midsummer, when my -examination is over. It won't do to come a cropper at my time of -life. Just look at that wheat!" - -The harvest had promised well before the storm began, but the corn -which was still uncut had been beaten down level with the ground, and -the "stocks" were sodden with rain. - -"Most of the corn will have to be cut with the sickle now," said the -old lady. "Next Sunday won't be 'stooky Sunday' after all." - -They drove on past Kilwinnie, discussing Dr Dudley's approaching -departure, and the date of his return. - -"Why, that surely is a strange steamer," said Mrs Hamilton suddenly. -"I wonder if she has been disabled. Can you see?" - -"There is no use asking me about anything that is more than a yard -off," he said. "I have left my eyes at home." - -She handed him a field-glass, and he studied the vessel carefully. - -"I don't know her from the Ark," he said, "but that is not -surprising." - -Before returning the glass, he swept it half absently along the -coast, and he vaguely noticed two figures--a man's figure and a -woman's--stooping towards the ground. - -He would have thought nothing of it, but the man's hat was off, -and--standing alone as they were on the sandy dunes--they suggested -to Dudley's mind the figures in Millet's "Angelus." He laughed at -the fancy, focussed the glass correctly, and looked at them again. - -Just then the woman straightened herself up, and stood in silhouette -against sea and sky. He would have known that lithe young form -anywhere; but--all-important question--who was the man? Dudley -subjected the unconscious figure to a searching examination, but in -vain. To his knowledge he had never seen "the fellow" before. - -Mrs Hamilton unwittingly came to his assistance. She took the glass -from him, and examined the vessel herself. - -"No," she said, "I don't know her at all. I expect she is coming in -for repairs. Why, I believe that is Mr Brown, the draper at -Kilwinnie. You know he is quite a remarkable botanist, a burning and -shining light--under a bushel. I suppose that is one of his sisters -with him. They say he is never seen with any other woman." - -"Confound his impudence!" muttered Dudley involuntarily. - -"Why, Ralph, what do you mean? You talk to me about 'the effete -superstitions of an ancient gentry'; but even I have no objection to -a well-conducted tradesman amusing himself with a scientific hobby in -his spare time. It is a pity all young men of that class don't do -the same. It would keep them out of a lot of mischief." - -"Yes," said Dudley, rather vaguely. - -He did not enter into any explanation of his strangely inconsistent -utterance; but such silence on his part was too common an occurrence -in his intercourse with his aunt to call for any remark. - - -Dr Dudley was not in love with Mona. It was his own firm conviction -that he never would be really in love at all. All women attracted -him who in any respect or in any degree approached his ideal; the -devoted wife and mother, the artist, the beautiful dancer, the severe -student, the capable housewife, the eloquent platform speaker,--in -all of these he saw different manifestations of the eternal idea of -womanhood, and he never thought of demanding that one woman should in -herself combine the characteristics of all. He was content to take -each one for what she was, and to enjoy her in that capacity. He -keenly appreciated the society of women; but the moment he was out of -their presence--sometimes even before he was out of it--he found -himself analysing them as calmly as if they were men. Yet "analyse" -is scarcely the right word to use, for Dr Dudley read character less -by deliberate study than by a curious power of intuition, which few -would have predicated from a general knowledge of his mind and -character. - -Mona would have been surprised at that time had she known how much -truer was his estimate of her than was that of the Sahib. Almost at -the first glance, he had understood something of both her simplicity -and her complexity, her reserve and her unconventionally; almost at -the first interview, he had realised that, whatever might be the case -in the future, at present the idea of sex simply did not exist for -her. She might well call him _simpatico_. He was appreciative -almost to the point of genius. - -Certainly no woman had ever attracted him precisely as Mona did. She -attracted him so much that he had been fain to hold his peace about -her, and to wish that she were not "Miss Simpson's niece." And yet -there was a pathos and a piquancy about her, in her dingy -surroundings, which were not without their charm, and which appealed -to a latent sense of the fatherly in him, the very existence of which -he had scarcely suspected, for Dr Dudley was essentially a college -man. - -"Surely, surely," he thought as he enjoyed his after-dinner cigar in -his tiny smoking-room, "she would never look at that fellow. She -could not be such a fool. If she had lived fifty years ago it would -have been all _en règle_, She would have married him as a matter of -course, and an excellent match for her too. She would in due course -have 'suckled fools and chronicled small-beer,' and at the present -moment her granddaughters would be holding entrance scholarships for -Newnham or Girton. - -"But it's not too late for her yet. If only that dear old aunt of -mine were not such a confounded Conservative, I would get her to pay -for Miss Maclean's education. By Jove! it would be education in her -case, and not mere instruction, as it is with most of the learned -women one meets; but even if my old lady had the money to spare, she -would infinitely rather give Miss Maclean her linen and her best -bedroom furniture, and bestow her with a blessing on the draper!" - -It did not occur to him to doubt that Mona was practically a fixture -at Borrowness. His aunt had certainly spoken as if she were, on the -one occasion when Mona had been mentioned between them. In truth, -the old lady had taken for granted that he was referring to the real -original niece, of whose departure for America she had never even -heard; and Ralph knew no one else in the neighbourhood who was at all -likely to give him incidental information about Miss Simpson's -assistant. She must of course have been brought up elsewhere--so -much at least he could tell from her accent; and, for the rest, he -had always maintained that, in these latter days, the daughters of -lower middle-class people stand a better chance of a good education -than any other girls in the community: it was not altogether -marvellous if one in a thousand made a good use of it. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - -"LEAVES OF GRASS." - -The next day, while Mrs Hamilton was enjoying her afternoon nap, -Dudley seated himself as usual with his books; but his head ached, -and he soon gave up the attempt to study. - -"For every hour I work to-day, I shall waste two to-morrow," he said; -and taking a volume of poetry from the shelf, he strode down to the -beach. - -Other people besides Mona knew of "Castle Maclean"; perhaps some -people had even discovered her predilection for it. Dudley reached -the spot in about half the time that she would have taken, and -scrambled up the huge uneven steps. There, comfortably ensconced at -the top, sat the subject of his thoughts; a sketch-book open on her -lap, and a well-used, battered paint-box at her side. Dudley was too -much of an artist to dabble in colours himself, but he knew one -paint-box from another, and he was duly impressed. - -"I beg your pardon!" he said. "So you know this place?" - -"It is my private property," she said with serene dignity, very -different from her bright, alert manner in the shop,--"Castle -Maclean." - -He bowed low. "Shall I disturb you if I stay?" - -"Not in the least." She put her head on one side, and critically -examined her sky. "Not unless your hat absolutely comes between me -and my subject." - -"Change in the weather, is not it?" - -"Has it not been glorious!" she said enthusiastically, laying down -her brush. "This rocky old coast was in its element. It was -something to live for, to see those great waves dashing themselves -into gigantic fountains of spray." - -"You don't mean to say you were down here?" - -"Every minute that I could spare. Why not? A wetting does one no -harm in a primitive world like this." - -She glanced at his book and went on with her painting. Neither of -them had come there to talk, and why should they feel called upon to -do it? - -"This is scarcely a lady's book," he said,--though he would not have -thought this remark necessary to a "Girton girl,"--"but, if I may, I -think I could find one or two things that you might like to hear." - -She smiled, well pleased. She had not forgotten how - - "Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul," - -had rolled out in his musical bass. - -He read on for half an hour or so. Mona soon forgot her sketch and -sat listening, her head resting on her hand. - -He closed the book abruptly; he wanted no verbal thanks. - -"And now," he said, "for my reward. May I look at your sketches?" - -She coloured awkwardly. How could she show them? The scraps from -Norway, and Italy, and Saxon Switzerland, might be explained; but -what of the memory sketches of "the potent, grave, and reverend -signiors" who had examined her at Burlington House? What of the -caricature, which had amused the whole School, of Mademoiselle Lucy -undergoing a Viva? What of her _chef-d'œuvre_, the study of the -dissecting-room? - -"I promised Rachel that I would keep the dreadful secret," she said -ironically to herself, "and I am not going to break my word." But it -cost her an effort to refuse. Some of the sketches were, in their -way, undeniably clever, and she would have enjoyed showing them to -him; and, moreover, she intensely disliked laying herself open to a -charge of false modesty. - -"I am sorry to seem so churlish," she said, "but I would rather not -show you the book." - -He was surprised, but her tone was absolutely final. There was -nothing more to be said. - -"If you like," she said shyly, "I will pay you back in a poor -counterfeit of your own coin. I will read to you, and you shall -close your eyes and listen to the plash of the waves. That is one of -my ideals of happiness." - -She took the book from the rock and began to read; but he did not -close his eyes. Her voice was not a remarkable one like his own; but -it was sympathetic, and her reading suggested much more than it -expressed. He enjoyed listening to her, and he was interested in her -choice of a poem; but he liked best to watch her mobile, sensitive -face. - - "One effort more, my altar this bleak sand; - That Thou, O God, my life hast lighted, - With ray of light, steady, ineffable, vouchsafed of Thee, - Light rare, untellable, lighting the very light, - Beyond all signs, descriptions, languages,"-- - -She seemed to be repeating the words from memory, not reading them; -for her eyes were fixed on the hills beyond the sea, and her face was -kindled for the moment into absolute beauty. Then, for the first -time, a distinct thought passed through Dudley's mind that he would -like the mother of his children to have a face like that. - -"She would make a man noble in spite of himself," he thought; but -aloud he said-- - -"You knew that poem?" - -"Yes." - -"Did you know those I read?" - -"Not all of them. I knew _Vigil Strange_ and _My Captain_." - -There was silence between them for a few moments. - -"Have you the smallest idea," he asked suddenly, "how you are -throwing yourself away?" - -She coloured, and was about to answer, but just then a gust of wind -caught a page of her sketch-book, and blew it over. - -She laughed, glad of an excuse for changing the subject. - -"The Fates have apparently decreed," she said, "that you are to see -_this_ sketch," and she held it out to him. - -It represented a red-cheeked, sonsy-faced girl, standing before a -mirror, trying on a plain little bonnet. On all sides were -suggestions of flowers and feathers, and brilliant millinery; and in -the girl's round eyes was an expression of positive horror. - -Beneath the picture Mona had written, "Is life worth living?" - -Dudley laughed. - -"That looks as if there ought to be a story connected with it," he -said. - -"Only a bit of one," and she gave him a somewhat cynical account of -her little scullery-maid. - -"I withdraw my remark," he said gravely. "You are not throwing -yourself away. Would that we were all using ourselves to as much -purpose!" - -"Don't make me feel myself more of a fool than I do already." - -"Fool! I was wishing there were a few more fools in the place to -appreciate you--Ruskin for one!" - -"I did try to comfort myself with recollections of Ruskin," she said, -with a suspicion of tears in her laughter; "but I could only think of -the bit about the crossing-sweeper and the hat with the feather." - -He smiled. "You do Ruskin too much honour when you judge him by an -isolated quotation," he said. "I thought that distinction was -reserved for the Bible." - -"But that is only the beginning of the story," said Mona. "I have -had several orders since for similar bonnets--more from the mothers -than from the girls themselves, I am sorry to say,--and among them -the one that suggested the sketch. Have you ever seen Colonel -Lawrence's quaint old housekeeper up at the wood?" - -"Oh yes. Everybody knows the Colonel's Jenny." - -"Her daughter went away to service some time ago, and came home to -visit her mother the other day, with all her wages on her back, as -Jenny expressed it,--such a poor, little, rosy-cheeked, tawdry bit of -humanity! The mother marched her off to me in high dudgeon, and -ordered a bonnet 'like Polly's at the Towers'; and that is exactly -how the poor child looked when she tried it on. I could have found -it in my heart to beg her off myself. Talk of breaking in a -butterfly!" - -"Yes," he said. "One is inclined to think that human butterflies -should be allowed to be butterflies--till one sees them too near the -candle!" - -"If we knew whether it were really worth while trying to save them," -said Mona, "I suppose we should indeed 'know what God and man is'; as -it is, we can only act on impulse. But this little Maggie does not -belong to the most puzzling class. She is a good little thing, after -all. I should not wonder if she had the germ of a soul stowed away -somewhere." - -"She is a Maggie, is she?" he said, returning with a smile to the -baby-face in the picture. "They are all Maggies here. One gets -perfectly sick of the name." - -"Does one?" said Mona. "Queen Margaret is a heroine of mine, and my -very own saint to boot." - -"Are you a Margaret?" he said. "You look like one. It is partly -because the name is so beautiful that one resents that senseless -'Maggie.'" - -Mona was just going to say that with her it was only an unused second -name; but his face had grown very grave again, and she did not wish -to jar on his mood. How little we can tell in life what actions or -omissions will throw their light or shadow over our whole future! - -"What right have we," he said musingly at last, "to say what is -normal and what is not? How can we presume to make one ideal of -virtue the standard for all? Look round the world boldly--not -through the medium of tinted glass--and choose at random a dozen -types. If there be a God at all, it is awful to think of His -catholicity!" - -Mona looked up with a smile. - -"Forgive me, Miss Maclean," he said. "I have no right to talk like -that." - -"Why not? Is life never to be relieved by a strong picturesque -statement? It takes a lot of conflicting utterances to make up a -man's _Credo_. When I want neat, little, compatible sentences, I -resort to my cookery-book. Did you think," she added mischievously, -"that I would place you on a pedestal with Ruskin and my Bible, and -judge you by an isolated quotation?" - -He laughed, and then grew suddenly grave. - -"Talking," he said, "is _mein Verderben_. That is why I have chosen -a profession that will give me no scope for it--not that I seem -likely to make much of the profession, now that it is chosen! You -see--my circumstances have been peculiar, and my education has been -different in some respects from that of most men." He hesitated, and -then, without a word of introduction, urged by some irresistible -impulse, he plunged into the story of his life. Perhaps he was -anxious to see how it looked in the eyes of a capable woman; -certainly he regarded Mona as a wholly exceptional being, in his -intercourse with whom he was bound by no ordinary rules. - -"I left school when I was sixteen," he said, "laden with prizes and -medals and all that sort of thing. It was my misfortune, not my -fault, that I had a good deal of money to spend on my education, and -a free hand as to the spending of it. I am inclined sometimes to -envy fellows whose parents leave them no voice in the matter at all. - -"I went first to Edinburgh University for three years, and took my -M.A. There are worse degrees in the world than an Edinburgh M.A. It -means no culture, no University life, no rubbing up against one's -fellow-men; but it does mean a solid foundation of all-round, useful -information, which no man need despise, and which is not heavy enough -to extinguish the slumbering fires of genius should they chance to -lie beneath. Of course, it is impossible to tell _a priori_ what -will prove an _education_ to any man. - -"When I left Edinburgh, I announced my intention of going to -Cambridge. The classical professor wanted me to go in for the -classical tripos, and the mathematical professor urged me to stick to -the 'eternal,' of which he believes mathematics to be the sole -manifestation granted to erring humanity. But I was determined to -have a go at Natural Science. There was a great deal of loose -scientific talk in the air, and people seemed to make so much of a -minimum of knowledge that I fancied three years of conscientious work -would take a man straight in behind the veil. I went to work -enthusiastically at first, while hope was strong, more quietly later -when I realised that at most I might move back the veil an inch or -two, while infinity lay behind; that humanity might possibly in three -hundred years accomplish what I had hoped to do in three. Of course, -I might have added my infinitesimal might of labour and research, but -I was not specially fitted for it. The difficulty all my life has -been to find out what I was specially fitted for. However, I took my -degree." - -"Tripos?" said Mona. - -"Third Class," he said contemptuously. "But I was not reading for a -place. And, indeed, I grew more in those three years than in any -other three of my life. Possibly it was the life at Cambridge. -Possibly I might have accomplished more on the plains of Thibet." - -He drew a long breath. He had wellnigh forgotten who his companion -was, and talked on to give vent to his feelings. After all, it -mattered little if she missed a point here and there. She would -grasp as much of the spirit of the story as most confessors do. - -"Well, then, I travelled for a couple of years. I studied at -Heidelberg, and Göttingen, and Jena. I heard good music nearly every -night, and I saw all the cathedrals and picture-galleries. Then I -came home, determined to choose a profession. I chose medicine, -mainly for the reason I gave you, and I studied in London for the -examinations of the colleges. Why did I not choose the University? -Would that I had! But you see I was past the age when boys 'get up' -a subject with ease, and walk through brilliant examinations; and, -moreover, in spite of a popular superstition to the contrary effect, -two years of travel and art, and music and philosophy, do not tend to -furbish up a man's mathematics and classics and natural science. - -"Six months after I began to study I loathed medicine. To use a -favourite expression here, it was neither fish, flesh, fowl, nor guid -red herrin'. It was neither art, science, literature, nor -philosophy. It was a hideous pot-pourri of all four, with a -preponderating, overwhelming admixture of arrant humbug. Hitherto I -had worked fairly well, but there had never been any moral value in -my work. It was done _con amore_. Now that the _amor_ failed, I -scarcely worked at all. I suppose it was one of Nature's revenges -that, as I had gone into a profession because it demanded silent -work, I talked more in those years than at any other period of my -life. I read all things rather than medicine, I moved in any society -rather than the medical world, but I rubbed along somehow. I passed -my first examination by a fluke, and I passed the second likewise. I -never was at a loss for a brilliant theory to account for erroneous -facts, and with some examiners that goes a long way. When it came to -preparing for my Final, I hated surgery because I had scamped my -anatomy. Medicine might have shared the same fate, but I had done a -good deal of physiology in Gaskell's laboratory at Cambridge--more -than was necessary, in fact--for the supposed connection between -physiology and medicine is a purely fictitious one. The student has -to take a header blindfold from the one to the other. It is almost -incredible, but when I went up for my Final in due course, I did -scrape through by the skin of my teeth. If ever any man got through -those three examinations without a spill on the strength of less -knowledge than I did, I should like to shake that man's hand. He -deserves to be congratulated. - -"The next thing was to look out for a practice, or a _locum tenency_; -but, before doing so, I went down to Cambridge to visit some friends. -While there I saw a good deal of M'Diarmid, the Professor of Anatomy. -I don't know if you ever heard of him, but if ever a man made literal -dry bones live, he does. Thoroughgoing to the soles of his boots--a -monument of erudition--and yet with a mind open to fresh light as -regards the minutest detail." - -Mona flushed crimson, but fortunately he was not looking. This was -indeed approaching dangerous ground. She was strongly inclined to -think that the professor in question was one of "the potent, grave, -and reverend signiors" in her sketch-book. - -"It was so odd," continued Dudley. "All my life, while other men -walked in shadow, I had seemed to see the light of the eternal, but -in medicine I had missed it absolutely. Ah, well! one word will do -for a thousand. I am afraid I wrote my 'Sorrows of Werther' once -more, for the last time in this world let us hope, and then I began -all over again to work for a London degree." - -He stopped with an unpleasant sensation of self-consciousness. "And -I wonder why I have inflicted all this on you," he said, a little -coldly. - -"I think it was a grand thing to do--to begin over again." said Mona. -"You will make a magnificent doctor when you do take your degree, and -none of those past years will be lost. You will be a famous -professor yourself some day. How far have you got?" - -"I passed the Matriculation almost immediately, and the Preliminary -Scientific six months after. In July, I go in for my Intermediate, -and two years later comes my Final. Once the Intermediate is over, a -load will be taken off my mind. It is all grist that comes to one's -mill after that, but it requires a little resolution to plod along -side by side with mere schoolboys, as most of the students are." - -"It must be an excellent thing for the schoolboys." - -She was wishing with all her heart that she could tell him her story -in return for his. Why had she made that absurd promise to Rachel? -And what would Rachel think if she claimed permission to make an -exception in Dr Dudley's favour? It was all too ridiculous, and when -she began to think of it, she was inclined to wonder whether she -really was the Mona Maclean who had studied medicine in London. - -"Why, it is after five," said Dudley suddenly, looking at his watch. - -Mona sprang to her feet, and then remembered with relief that, as -Rachel was going out to tea, she need not be punctual. - -"But I ought to have been in time to prevent her wearing the scarlet -cap," she thought with a pang of self-reproach. - -"Shall you go on with your sketch to-morrow?" asked Dudley, as they -walked up to the road. - -"To-morrow? No; my cousin is going to take me to St Rules." - -"I thought Miss Simpson was your aunt?" - -"No, she is my father's cousin--one of the very few relatives I have." - -Dudley was relieved, he scarcely knew why. - -"I might have known my old lady was not likely to know much about any -one in the village," he thought. - -"Have you never been to St Rules?" he said aloud. "That is a treat -in store. Almost every stone in it has a history. But I have an -appointment now with my aunt in Kirkstoun--I hate saying good-bye, -don't you?" - -"I do." - -"I mean quite apart from the parting involved." - -"Oh, quite!" - -He looked at her with curious eagerness, and then held out his hand. -Apparently he had no objection to that. - -"Well, so long!" - -"_Sans adieu!_" - - -Mona sighed as she re-entered the dreary little sitting-room. -However freely she might let the breezes of heaven blow through the -house in Rachel's absence, the rooms seemed to be as musty as ever -five minutes after the windows had been shut. - -The autumn evenings were growing chilly, but the white curtains, by -the laws of the Medes and Persians, had to remain on duty a little -longer; and great as was Mona's partiality for a good fire, the -thermometer must have registered a very low figure indeed before she -could have taken refuge in Sally's kitchen--at any other time than on -Saturday afternoon, immediately after the weekly cleaning. - -Tea was on the table. It had stood there since five o'clock. - -Mona sighed again. - -"If one divides servants," she said, "into three classes--those, who -can be taught to obey orders in the spirit, those who can be taught -to obey orders in the letter, and those who cannot be taught to obey -orders at all--Sally is a bad second, with an occasional strong -tendency to lapse into the third. I wish she had seen fit to lapse -into the third to-night." - -She pushed aside the cold buttered toast, helped herself to overdrawn -tea, and glanced with a shiver at the shavings in the grate. In -another moment her sorrows were forgotten. Leaning against the glass -shade of the gilt clock on the mantelpiece, smiling at her across the -room, stood a fair, fat, friendly budget in Lady Munro's handwriting. - -"_Gaudeamus igitur!_" Mona seized the tea-cosy, tossed it up to the -ceiling, and caught it again with an affectionate squeeze. - -How delightful that the letter should come when she was alone! Now -she could get the very maximum of enjoyment out of it. She stalked -it stealthily, lest it should "vanish into thin air" before her eyes, -took hold of it gingerly, examined the post-mark, smelt the faint -perfume which, more than anything else, reminded her of the beautiful -gracious woman in the rooms at Gloucester Place, and then opened the -envelope carefully with her penknife. - -She took out the contents, and arranged her three treasures on the -table. Yes, there were three. They had all written. There was Sir -Douglas's "My dear girl"; Lady Munro's "My darling Mona"; and -Evelyn's "My very own dearest friend." - -They were not clever letters at all, but they were affectionate and -characteristic; and Mona laughed and cried over them, as she sat -curled up in the corner of the stiff unyielding sofa. Sir Douglas -was bluff and fatherly, and to the point. Lady Munro underlined -every word that she would have emphasised in speaking. "Douglas was -so dull and so cross after we parted from you. In fact even now he -is constantly talking of you--_constantly_." Evelyn gave a detailed -circumstantial account of all they had done since Mona had left -them,--an account interspersed with many protestations of affection. -"Mother and I start for Cannes almost immediately," she wrote. "Of -course Father cannot be induced to leave Scotland as long as there is -a bird on the moors. Write me long letters as often as ever you can. -You do write such lovely letters." All three reminded Mona -repeatedly of her promise to spend the whole of next summer with them -somewhere. - -"How good they are!" Mona kept repeating. "How good they are!" - -When Mona was young, like every well-conducted school-girl, she had -formed passionate attachments, and had nearly broken her heart when -"eternal friendships" failed. "I will expect no friendship, no -constancy in life," she had said. "I will remember that here I have -no continuing city--even in the hearts of the people I love. I will -hold life and love with a loose grasp." - -And even now, when increasing years were making her more healthily -human, true friendship and constancy had invariably called out a -feeling of glad surprise. At every turn the world was proving kinder -to her than she had dared to hope. - -She was still deep in the letters when her cousin came home. - -"Well," said Rachel, "I've just heard a queer thing. You know the -work I had last week, teaching Mrs Robertson the stitch for that -tidy? Well, she had some friends in to tea last night, and she never -asked me! Did you ever hear the like of that? She thinks she's just -going to get her use out of me!" - -"I expect, dear," said Mona, "that the stitch proved more than she -could manage after all, and she was afraid to confess it." - -"Well, I never did know any one so slow at the crochet," said Rachel -resentfully, releasing the wonderful red cap from its basket. "She -may look for some other body to help her the next time. But we'd -better take our porridge and be off to our beds, if we're going to St -Rules to-morrow." - -Mona read her letters once more in her own room, and then another -thought asserted itself unexpectedly. - -"I wish with all my heart that I could have shown him the -sketch-book, and made a clean breast of it," she said to her trusty -friend in the glass; "and yet"--her attitude changed--"why should he -stand on a different footing from everybody else?" - -The face in the glass looked back defiantly, and did not seem -prepared with any answer. - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - -ST RULES. - -When Mona appeared at the breakfast-table next morning, Rachel -regarded her with critical dissatisfaction. - -"I wonder you don't get tired of that dress," she said, as she poured -out the tea--from the brown teapot. "It's very nice of course, and -as good as new, but changes are lightsome, and one would think you -would sometimes prefer to wear something more youthful-like. Pity -your print's at the wash." - -Mona looked out of the window. - -"I have another," she said, "if you think it won't rain." - -"Oh no. And besides, you can take your waterproof." - -"It's not so much that I mind getting anything spoiled, as that I -hate to be dressed unsuitably; but I do think it is going to be a -beautiful day." - -She left the room as soon as she had finished breakfast, and returned -in about ten minutes. - -"A gavotte in cream and gold," she said, making a low curtsey. "I -hope it meets with your approval." - -"My word!" said Rachel, "you do look the lady! and it's cheap stuff -too. Why, I declare you would pass for a beauty if you took the -trouble to dress well. It's wonderful how you become that hat!" - -"Took a little trouble to dress well!" ejaculated Mona mentally. "A -nice thing to say to a woman who makes dress her first aim in life!" - -They walked in to Kirkstoun, and there took the coach. Mona would -fain have gone outside, but Rachel wanted to point out the lions they -passed on the way, and she considered that they got their "penny's -worth" better inside. Fortunately there were not many passengers, -and Mona succeeded in placing herself on the windward side of two -fishwives. - -About noon they reached St Rules, and wandered rather aimlessly -through the streets, paying incidental visits to the various places -of note. Rachel had about as much idea of acting the part of -cicerone as she had of trimming hats, or making scones, or keeping -shop, or indeed of doing anything useful; and she was in a constant -state of nervous perturbation, lest some officious guide should force -his services upon them, and then expect a gratuity. - -The season was over and the visitors were few, so Mona's pretty gown -attracted not a little attention. Simple as it was, she regretted -fifty times that she had put it on; Rachel's dress would have escaped -notice but for the contrast between them. - -It was positively a welcome interlude when they arrived at the -pastry-cook's; but at the door Rachel stood aside obsequiously, to -give place to a lady who came up behind them "in her carriage;" and -then gave her own order in a shamefaced undertone, as if she had no -right to make use of the shop at the same moment as so distinguished -a personage. Poor Mona! She thought once more of Lady Munro, and -she sighed. - -"The only other thing that we really need to see," said Rachel, -wiping her hands on a crumpled paper bag that happened to lie beside -her, "is the Castle. I'll be glad to rest my legs a bit, while you -run round and look about you." - -She had at least shown her good sense in reserving the Castle as a -_bonne bouche_. Mona's irritation vanished as she stood in the -enclosure and saw the velvety green turf under foot, the broad blue -sky overhead, the bold outline of ruined masonry round about, and the -"white horses" rifling in on the rugged coast below. She was -wandering hither and thither, examining every nook and cranny, when -suddenly, in an out-of-the-way corner she came upon a young man and a -girl in earnest conversation. The girl started and turned her back, -and Mona left them in peace. - -"Surely I have seen that face before," she thought, "and not very -long ago. I know! It is that silly little minx, Matilda Cookson. I -hope the young man is up to no mischief." - -In another moment the "silly little minx" was swept out of her mind; -for, standing on a grassy knoll, laughing and talking with Rachel, -she saw Dr Dudley. - -An instinctive rush of surprise and pleasure, a feeling of uneasiness -at the thought of what Rachel might be saying, a sense of -satisfaction in her own fresh girlish gown,--all these passed through -Mona's mind, as she crossed the open space in the sunshine. - -"Well," said Dudley, as she joined them, "this can give a point or -two even to Castle Maclean." - -"Do you think so?" she responded gravely. "That is high praise." - -He laughed. "Have you seen that gruesome dungeon?" - -"Not properly. I am on my way to it now." - -He turned to walk with her, and they leant over the railing looking -down on the blackness below. A few feet from the top of the dungeon -a magnificent hart's-tongue fern sprang from a crevice, and curled -its delicate, pale-green fronds over the dank, dark stone. - -"How lovely!" said Mona. - -"Yes," he said. "And it is not only the force of contrast. Its -gloomy surroundings really do make it more beautiful." - -"Yes," said Mona relentlessly; "but it is not what Nature meant it to -be." - -"True," he replied. "Yet who would wish it transplanted!" - -Presently he turned away, and looked over the rough blue sea. - -"This place depresses me unspeakably," he said. "It reminds me of a -book of 'martyr stories' I had when I was a child. I have a mental -picture now of a family sitting round a blazing fire, and saying in -awestruck whispers, 'It's no' sae cheery as this the nicht i' the sea -tower by St Rules.' What appalling ideas of history they give us -when we are children!" And he added half absently-- - - "'Sitzt das kleine Menschenkind - An dem Ocean der Zeit, - Schöpft mit seiner kleinen Hand - Tropfen aus der Ewigkeit.'" - - -Mona looked up with sparkling eyes and made answer-- - - "'Schöpfte nicht das kleine Menschenkind - Tropfen aus dem Ocean der Zeit, - Was geschieht verwehte wie der Wind - In den Abgrund öder Ewigkeit.'" - - -"Go on, go on," she said, regardless of his unconcealed surprise, -"the best thought comes last." So he took up the strain again:-- - - "'Tropfen aus dem Ocean der Zeit - Schöpft das Mennchenkind mit kleiner Hand. - Spiegelt doch, dem Lichte zugewandt, - Sich darin die ganze Ewigkeit.'" - - -"I don't know," he said moodily. "There was precious little of -Eternity in the drops that were doled out to me." - -"Not then," said Mona; "but when you were old enough to turn them to -the light, you could see the eternal even there." - -His face relaxed into a smile. This girl was like an outlying part -of his own mind. - -They strolled slowly back to Rachel. - -"Do you enjoy sight-seeing?" he asked. - -"The question is too big. Cut it down." - -"Nay, I will judge for myself,--if you are not too tired to turn back -to the town." - -"Not a bit." - -When Rachel heard of the proposal, she rose to her feet, with -considerable help from Mona and from a stout umbrella. She would -fain have "rested her legs" a little longer, and the necessity of -acting the part of chaperon never so much as crossed her mind; but -the honour of Dr Dudley's escort through the streets of St Rules was -not to be lightly foregone. - -The first half-hour brought considerably more pain than pleasure to -Mona. She was straining every nerve to draw out the best side of -Rachel; and this, under the circumstances, was no easy task. - -Rachel's manner was often simple, natural, and even admirable, when -she was speaking to her inferiors; but the society of any one whom -she chose to consider her superior was sure to draw out her innate -vulgarity. Mona understood Dr Dudley well enough to know that he had -no regal disregard for what are known as "appearances," and she -suffered more for him than for herself. - -It did not occur to her that Rachel was acting very effectively the -part of the damp, black wall, which was throwing the dainty fern into -more brilliant relief. - -"It is all his own doing," sho thought indignantly. "Why has he -brought this upon himself and me? And it will fall upon me to keep -Rachel from talking about it for the next week." - -Fortunately, though Rachel trudged about gallantly to the last, she -soon became too tired to talk, and then Mona gave herself up to the -enjoyment of the hour. Either Dr Dudley knew St Rules by heart, or -he possessed a magnetic power of alighting on the things that were -worth seeing. Curious manuscripts and half-effaced inscriptions; -stained-glass windows and fine bits of carving; forgotten paintings, -and quaint old vergers and janitors who had become a part of the -buildings in which they had grown old;--all served in turn as the -text for his brilliant talk. He might well say that talking was his -Verderben. - -Finally they wandered again through the ruins of the cathedral. - -"'Pull down the nests and the rooks will fly away!'" quoted Dudley -rather bitterly. "Here at least we have the other side of the -'martyr stories.'" - -"I think sight-seeing is simply delightful," said Mona, as he stowed -them into the coach; "but one wants special eyes to do it with." - -"Everything becomes more interesting when seen 'through a -temperament,'" he said. "I am glad if mine has served as a -makeshift." - -"She won't spot _that_ reference," he thought to himself. - -That evening all three made reflections about the day's outing. - -"It came off wonderfully well, considering that I went in search of -it," thought Dudley. "I fully expected it to be a dead failure. She -must have met the draper accidentally." - -"He is very gentlemanly and amazingly clever," thought Rachel; "and -he seemed as pleased at the meeting as any of us. But how my legs -_do_ ache!" - -"I'll no more of this masquerading!" thought Mona. "I will take the -first opportunity of asking Rachel's permission to tell him the whole -truth. Perhaps he will take it all as a matter of course." - -But when she went up to dinner the next day, Rachel calmly informed -her that Dr Dudley had gone. "He has just walked up to the station -with a bag in his hand," she said, "and Bill had a lot of luggage on -a hurley. I think it's a queer sort of thing that he didn't look in -and say good-bye, after we were all so friendly-like yesterday." - -Mona smiled a little drearily. - -"He might well say 'so long,'" she said to herself, an hour later, as -she sat on the battlements of Castle Maclean. "Looked at in the -abstract, as a period of time, three months is a pretty fair sample -of the commodity!" - -Thus does, the feminine mind, while striving to grasp the abstract, -fall back inevitably into the concrete! - -"As a man," said Mona, "he is not a patch upon the Sahib; but I never -had such a playfellow in my life!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - -THE FLYING SCOTCHMAN. - -"What do you think, my dear?" said Rachel, a few days later, with -beaming face. "I have just had a letter from my niece. Would you -like to hear it?" - -"Very much," said Mona, "'First Impressions of a New Continent.' Is -it the first you have had?" - -"No, it's the second. She's no great hand at the letter-writing. -But there's more 'impressions' in this. She says the difficulty of -getting servants is beyond everything." - -Rachel proceeded to read the epistle: and for once Mona found herself -in absolute accord with her cousin. Rachel's niece was certainly "no -great hand at the letter-writing." - -It was evening, and Mona had just come in from a stroll in the -twilight. She did not often go out after tea, but there was no -denying the fact that the last few days had not been very lively -ones, and that physical exercise had become more desirable than ever. -She had not realised, till he was gone, that Dr Dudley's occasional -companionship made any appreciable difference in the world at -Borrowness; but she did not now hesitate for a moment to acknowledge -the truth to herself. - -"It is almost as if I had lost Doris or Lucy," she said; "and of -course, in a place like this, sympathetic companionship is at a -premium. One might go into a melancholia here over the loss of an -intelligent dog or a favourite canary. The fact that so many women -have fallen in love throws a lurid light on the lives they must have -led. Poor souls! I will write to Tilbury to-morrow to send me my -little box of books. Two hours' hard reading a day is a panacea for -most things." - -With this wholesome resolution she returned from her walk, to find -Rachel in a state of beatification over her niece's letter. - -"I declare I quite forgot," she said; "there's a parcel and letter -for you too. I think you'll find them on the chair by the door." - -"Nothing of much interest," said Mona; "at least I don't know the -handwriting on either. A begging-letter, I expect." - -She proceeded to open the parcel first, untying the knot very -deliberately, and speculating vaguely as to the cause of the curious -damp smell about the wrappings. "Fancy Ruching" in gilt letters on -one end of the box was apparently a misleading title; for, when the -cover was removed, a mass of damp vegetation came to view. - -Rachel lifted her hands in horror. The idea of bringing caterpillars -and earwigs and the like of that into the house! - -On the top of the box lay a sheet of moist writing-paper folded -lengthwise. Mona took it up. - -"Why," she said, "how very kind! It is from Mr Brown. He has been -out botanising, and has sent me the fruits of an afternoon's ramble." - -"The man must be daft!" thought Rachel, "to pay the postage on stuff -that anybody else would put on the ash-heap. The very box isn't fit -to use after having that rubbish inside it." - -Fortunately, before she could give utterance to her thoughts, a -brilliant idea flashed into her mind. Regarded absolutely, the box -might be rubbish; but relatively, it might prove to be of enormous -value. - -Everybody knew that the draper was "daft"; but nobody considered him -any the less eligible in consequence, either as a provost or as a -husband. For the matter of that, Mona was "daft" too. She cared as -much about these bits of weed and stick as the draper did. There -would be a pair of them in that respect. And then--how wonderfully -things do come about in life!--Mona would find a field for her -undeniable gifts in the shopkeeping line. At Mr Brown's things were -done on as large a scale as even she could desire; and if she were -called upon some day to fill the proud position of "provost's lady," -what other girl in the place would look the part so well? - -Of course the house at Borrowness would be sadly dull without her. -But she might want to go away some time in any case, and at Kilwinnie -she would always be within reach. Rachel would not admit even to -herself that it might almost be a relief in some ways to be delivered -from the quiet thoughtful look of those bright young eyes. - -She beamed, and glowed, and would have winked, if there had been any -one but Mona to wink to. With her of course she must dissemble, till -things had got on a little farther. In the meantime, Mr Brown, quiet -as he looked, seemed quite capable of fighting his own battles; -though if any one had sent her such a box in her young days, she -would have regarded it in the light of a mock valentine. - -She longed to know what Mr Brown had said; but, when Mona handed her -the letter, she found it sadly disappointing. In so far as it was -not written in an unknown tongue, it seemed to be all about the -plants; and who in the world had ever taken the trouble to give such -grand names to things that grew in every potato-bed that was not -properly looked after? But of course tastes did differ, and no doubt -daft people understood each other. - -Poor Rachel! This disappointment was nothing to the one in store for -her. Mona had opened the "begging-letter," and had turned white to -the lips. - -"I must start by the early train to-morrow," she said, "and try to -catch the Flying Scotchman. A little friend of mine in London is -very ill." - -It had proved to be a begging-letter indeed, but not of the kind she -had supposed. It came from Lucy's father, Mr Reynolds. - -"The doctor says that Lucy is in no actual danger," he wrote, "but -she adds that her temperature must not go any higher. The child is -fretting so for you that I am afraid this alone is enough to increase -the fever. She was not very well when she left us to return to -London a week ago; but our country doctor assured me there was no -reason to keep her at home. Of course, Lucy had sent for a woman -doctor before I arrived; and cordially as I approve her choice, a -moment like this seems to call one's old prejudices, with other -morbid growths, to life. Dr Alice Bateson seems very capable and is -most attentive, but I need not deny that it would be a great relief -to me to have you here. Lucy's mother is too much of an invalid to -travel so far, and you have been like an elder sister to her for -years. - -"I know well that I need not apologise for the trouble to which I am -putting you. I fully expect my little girl to improve from the -moment she hears that I have written." - -Mona read this aloud, adding, "I will go out and telegraph to him at -once." - -"Well, I'm sure," said Rachel, "it's a deal of trouble to take for a -mere acquaintance--not even a blood relation." - -"Lucy is more than a mere acquaintance," said Mona, with a quiver in -her voice. "She has been, as he says, a little sister." - -"What does he say is the matter?" - -"Rheumatic fever." - -"Then," said Rachel bitterly, "I suppose I may send your boxes after -you?" - -"No, no," said Mona, forcing herself to speak playfully; "a bargain -is a bargain, and I mean to keep you to yours. Six months is in the -bond. I will come back as soon as Lucy is well on the way to -recovery--within a week, I hope. You know rheumatic fever is not the -lengthy affair that it used to be. I assure you, dear, a visit to -London is the very last thing I want at present. So far as I -personally am concerned, I would infinitely rather stay with you. -But I am not of so much use here that I should refuse to go to people -who really need me." - -If she wanted a crumb of encouragement, she was not disappointed, -although Rachel was one of the people who do not find it easy to -grant such crumbs. - -"Well, I'm sure that's just what you are," she said. "I don't know -what I am to do without you, and everybody says the shop has been a -different place since you came." With a great effort she refrained -from referring to stronger reasons still against Mona's departure. - -Mona kissed her on the forehead. - -"Then expect me back this day week or sooner," she said. "You don't -want me more than I want to come." - -This was the literal truth. When she had laid her plans, she was not -grateful to the unfriendly Fates who interfered with their execution; -she was honestly interested in her life at Borrowness; and it was a -positive trial to return to London, a deserter at least for the time, -just when all the scholastic world, with bustle and stir, was -preparing for a new campaign. - -She went to the post-office and sent off her telegram to Mr Reynolds, -and another to Doris announcing the fact that she was going to London -for a few days, and would be at the Waverley Station before ten the -next morning. This done, she returned to the house, wrote a friendly -note to Mr Brown, packed her valise, and spent the rest of the -evening with Rachel and "Mrs Poyser." - -She did not pass a very peaceful night. It was all very well to say -that Lucy's temperature "must not go any higher"; but what if it did? -If it had continued to rise ever since the letter was written, what -might be the result even now? Mona had seen several such cases in -hospital, and she remembered one especially, in which cold baths, -ice-packs, and all other remedies had not been sufficient to prevent -a lad's life from being burnt out in a few days. She tossed -restlessly from side to side, and what sleep she got was little -better than a succession of nightmares. She was thankful to rise -even earlier than was necessary, and to busy herself with some of Mr -Brown's specimens. - -But, early as she was, Rachel was up before her, cutting bulky, -untempting sandwiches; and when the train carried Mona away, an -unexpected tear coursed down the flabby old cheek. - -On the platform at Edinburgh stood Doris, fresh as a lily. - -"It's very good of you to come," said Mona. "I did not half expect -to see you." - -"My dear," was the calm announcement, "I am going all the way." - -"Nonsense!" - -"Father remarked most opportunely that I seemed to be in need of a -little change, and I gave him no peace till he allowed me to come -with you. He admitted that such an opportunity might not occur -again. He would have been here to see us off, but he had a big -consultation at ten. You will show me the school and the hospital -and everything, won't you?" - -"That I will," said Mona. - -That she would at all have preferred to keep away from her old haunts -and companions, just at present, never crossed the mind of -large-souled Doris. "Mona capable of such pettiness!" she would have -said in reply to the suggestion. "You little know her!" - -"One has not much space for _minutiæ_ in a telegram," said Mona, "or -I would have explained that I am going to see a friend who is very -ill. You have heard me speak of Lucy Reynolds?" - -"Oh, I am sorry! But I shall not be in your way, you know. If you -can spare a few hours some day, that is all I want." - -"It is a matter of no moment of course, but do you happen to have any -notion where you mean to put up?" - -"I shall go to my aunt in Park Street of course, the one whose 'At -Homes' you so loftily refused to attend. Father telegraphed to her -last night, and I got a very cordial reply before I started. In -point of fact, she is always glad to have me without notice. We -don't stand on ceremony on either side." - -"Well, you are a delightful person! I know no one who can do such -sensible, satisfactory things without preliminary fuss. Shall we -take our seats?" - -"I took the seats long ago--two nice window seats in a third-class -carriage. Your friend the 'pepper-pot' has duly deposited my wraps -in one, and my dressing-bag in the other, and is now mounting guard -in case of accident. You have plenty of time to have a cup of coffee -at Spiers & Pond's." - -In a few minutes they seated themselves in the carriage, dismissed -the "pepper-pot," and launched into earnest conversation. Not till -the train was starting did Mona raise her eyes, and then they -alighted on a friendly, familiar figure, At the extreme end of the -platform stood the Sahib. All unaware that she was in the train, he -was waving his hat to some one else, his fine muscular figure -reducing all the other men on the platform, by force of contrast, to -mere pigmies. - -When Mona saw him it was too late even to bow, and she turned away -from the window, her face flushed with disappointment. - -"Oh, Doris," she said, "that was the Sahib!" - -"And who," asked Doris, "may the Sahib be?" - -"A Mr Dickinson. I saw a good deal of him in Norway this summer. He -is a great friend of the Munros, you know. Such a good fellow! The -sort of man whom all women instinctively look upon as a brother." - -"The type is a rare one," said Doris coldly, "but I suppose it does -exist." - -The conversation had struck the vein of her cynicism now, though the -men who knew "the lily maid" would have been much surprised to hear -that such a vein existed, and, most of all, to hear that it lay just -there. - -"I don't think any of us can doubt that there is such a type," said -Mona. "Certainly no one doubts it who has the privilege of knowing -the Sahib." - -Doris did not answer, and they sat for some time in silence, the line -on Mona's brow gradually deepening. - -"Dearest," said Doris at last, "I don't bore you, do I? You would -not rather be alone?" - -Mona laughed. "What will you do if I say 'Yes'?" she said. "Pull -the cord and pay the fine? or jump out of the window? My dear, I -could count on the fingers of one hand the times when you have bored -me, and I am particularly glad to have you to-day. I should fret -myself to death if I were alone, between anxiety about Lucy, and -vexation at having missed the Sahib." - -Doris's face clouded. "Mona dear, I do wish the Munros had stayed in -India till you had got on the Register. I don't approve of men whom -all women instinctively look upon as brothers. Marriage is perfectly -fatal to students of either sex." - -"Marriage!" said Mona, aghast. "Marry the Sahib! My dear Doris, I -would as soon think of marrying you!" - -"I wish you would," said Doris calmly; "but I would not have a word -to say to you till you had got on the Register. Oh how lovely!" - -The train had emerged on the open coast, and every line and curve on -creek and cliff stood out sharp and clear in the crisp light of the -October morning. - -"Isn't it?" The line on Mona's brow vanished. "You know, Doris, I -believe I am a bit of the east coast, I love it so. Heigh-ho! I do -think Lucy must be better." - -"Judging from what you have told me of her. I should think the -chances were in favour of her meeting you at the station." - -Mona laughed. "She is an india-rubber ball--up one moment, down the -next; but it has been no laughing matter this time. I told you she -got through her examination all right." - -"Thanks to your coaching, no doubt." - -"No, no, no! I begin to think Lucy has a better head all round than -mine. The fact is, Doris, I have to readjust my views of life -somehow, and the only satisfactory basis on which I can build is the -conviction that we have all been under a complete misapprehension as -to my powers. There is something gloriously restful in the belief -that one is nothing great, and is not called upon to do anything -particular." - -Doris smiled with serene liberality. Mona had been in her mind -constantly during the last month. - -"Very well," she said. "As long as you feel like that, go your own -way. I am not afraid that the mood will last. In a few months you -will be neither to hold nor to bind." - -"Prophet of evil!" - -"Nay; prophet of good." - -"It is all very well for you, in your lovely leisure, realising the -ideal of perfect womanhood." - -"Don't be sarcastic, please. You know how gladly I would exchange my -'lovely leisure' for your freedom to work. But we need not talk of -it. My mind is perfectly at rest about you. This is only a -reaction--a passing phase." - -"A great improvement on the restless, hounding desire to inflict -one's powers, talents, and virtues--save the mark!--on poor, patient, -long-suffering mankind. Oh, Doris, let us take life simply, and work -our reformations unconsciously by the way. We don't increase our -moral energy by pumping our resolutions up to a giddy height." - -"I am not to remind you, I suppose, of the old gospel which some of -your friends associate with you, that women ought always to have a -purpose in life, and not be content to drift." - -Mona turned a pair of laughing eyes full on her friend. - -"Remind me of it by all means. Go a stage farther back, if you like, -and remind me of my dolls. I am not sensitive on either point. I -was saying to some one only the other clay that it takes a great many -incompatible utterances to make up a man's _Credo_, even at one -moment. Perhaps," she added more slowly, "each of us is, in -potentiality, as catholic as God Himself on a small scale; but owing -to the restrictions and mutual pressure of human life, most of us can -only develop one side at a time--some of us only one in a single -'Karma.'" - -"You seem," said Doris quietly, "to have found the intellectual life -at Borrowness at a surprisingly high level." - -Mona raised her eyebrows with a quick, unconscious gesture. - -"There are a few intelligent people," she said rather coldly, "even -there." - -"But, Mona, your life has been so free from restriction and pressure. -You have been able to develop on the lines you chose." - -"Don't argue that my responsibility is the greater! How do we know -that it is not the less? Besides, there may be very real pressure -and restriction, which is invisible even to the most sympathetic eye." - -"I don't want to argue at all. I don't profess to follow all your -flights; but I am perfectly satisfied that you will come back to the -point you started from." - -Mona rose and took down a plaid from the rack. "Make it a spiral, -Doris, if you conscientiously can," she said gravely. "I don't like -moving in a circle. 'Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul!'" - -Doris looked admiringly at her friend. She could very -conscientiously have "made it a spiral," but she was not in the habit -of talking in metaphors as Mona was. - -The conversation dropped, and they sat for a long time listening to -the rattle and roar of the train. Mona did not like it. Somehow it -forced her to remember that there was no necessary connection between -Lucy's condition and the bright October weather.' - -"A penny for your thoughts, Doris," she cried. - -Doris's large grey eyes were sparkling. - -"I was wondering," she said, "whether that delicious seal is still at -the Zoo. Do you know?" - -"I don't; you might as well ask me whether Carolus Rex is still -brandishing his own death-warrant at Madame Tussaud's." - -"Picture mentioning the two places on the same day!" - -"I do it because they lie side by side in the fairy memory palace of -childhood. Neither has any existence for me apart from that." - -"And you a student of natural history! I should have thought that -most of your spare time would have been spent at the Zoological -Gardens." - -"_Ars longa!_--but you are perfectly right. The Huxley of the next -generation, instead of directing us to scalpel and dissecting-board, -will tell us to forego the use of those, till we have studied the -build and movements and habits of the animals in life. I quite agree -with you that it is far better to know and love the creatures as you -do, than to investigate personally the principal variations of the -ground-plan of the vascular system, as I do." - -"I don't see why we should not combine the two." - -"Truly; but something else would have to go to the wall; Turner, -perhaps, or Browning, or Wagner. - - 'We have not wings, we cannot soar; - But we have feet to scale and climb.'" - - -"I don't know. Some of us appear to have discovered a pretty fair -substitute for wings. But you know I am looking forward to your -dissecting-room far more even than to the Zoological Gardens." - -"You don't really mean to see the dissecting-room?" - -"Of course I do. Why not?" - -"Chiefly, I suppose, because you never can see it. No outsider can -form any conception of what the dissecting-room really is. You would -only be horrified at the ghastliness of it,--shocked that young girls -can laugh over such work." - -"Do they laugh?" said Doris, in an awestruck tone. She had pictured -to herself heroic self-abnegation; but laughter! - -"Of course they do, if there is anything to laugh at. We laughed a -great deal at an Irish girl who could only remember the nerves of the -arm by ligaturing them with different-coloured threads. When girls -are doing crewel-work, or painting milking-stools, they are not -incessantly thinking of the source of their materials. No more are -we." - -"But it is so different." - -"Is it? I don't know. If it is, a merciful Providence shuts our -eyes to the difference. It simply becomes our work, sacred or -commonplace, according to our character and way of looking at things. -There are minor disagreeables, of course; but what pursuit is without -them? And if they are greater in practical anatomy than in other -things, there is increased interest to make up for them." - -"Oh yes, I am sure of that. I think nothing of disagreeables in such -a cause. And I suppose what you say is very natural; but I always -fancied that lofty enthusiasm would be necessary to carry one -through." - -"I think lofty enthusiasm is necessary to carry us nobly through -anything. But lofty enthusiasm is not an appendage to wear at one's -finger-ends; it is the heart, the central pump of the whole system, -about which we never think till we grow physically or morally morbid. -You know, dear, I don't mean to say that the dissecting-room is -pleasant from the beginning. Before one really gets into the work it -is worse than ghastly, it is _awful_. That is why I say that -outsiders should never see it. For the first few days, I used to -clench my teeth, and repeat to myself over and over again, 'After -life's fitful fever, he sleeps well.' It sounds ironical, does not -it? But it comforted me. On any theory of life, _this_ struggle was -over for one poor soul; and, judging by the net result in this world, -it must have been a sore and bitter struggle. But you know I could -not have gone on like that; it would have killed me. I had to cease -thinking about it at all in that way, and look upon it simply as my -daily work--sometimes commonplace, sometimes enthralling. Sir -Douglas would say I grew hardened, but I don't think I did." - -"Hardened!" said Doris, her own eyes softening in sympathy as she -watched Mona's lips quiver at the bare recollection of those days. -"How like a man!" - -"I never spoke of this before, except once when my uncle made me; but -if you are determined to go in----" - -"Oh yes, I mean to see all I can. You don't object very much, do -you?" - -"Object?" Mona's earnestness had all gone. "Did you ever know me -object to anything? I did not even presume to advise; I only stated -an opinion in the abstract. But here is York, and luncheon. We can -continue the conversation afterwards." - -But the conversation was over for that day. Just as the train was -about to start, Doris leaned out of the window. - -"Oh, Mona," she said, "here is a poor woman with four little -children, looking for a carriage that will hold them all. Poor soul! -She does look hot and tired. I do wish she would look in our -direction. Here she comes!" - -Doris threw open the door, and lifted the children and bundles in, -one by one. - -"You did not mind, did you?" she said suddenly to Mona, as the train -moved on. - -"Oh no!" Mona laughed, and shrugged her shoulders. - -"One must pay the penalty of travelling with a _schöne Seele_!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - -DR ALICE BATESON. - -Glaring lights in the murky darkness, hurrying porters pursuing the -train, eager eyes on the platform strained in the direction of the -windows, announced the arrival of the Flying Scotchman at King's -Cross. - -"Are you sure your husband will be here to meet you?" said Doris to -her _protégée_. "I will stay with the children till you find him. -Mona, dear, I had better say good night. I will call to-morrow -morning to see you and enquire for your friend." - -"Is there any one here to meet you?" - -"I saw my aunt's footman a minute ago. He will find me presently." - -A moment later a beautiful, white-haired old clergyman came up, -removing his glove before shaking hands with Mona. - -"I scarcely know how to thank you," he said, in a low voice. "You -are a friend in need." - -"And Lucy?" - -"Lucy's temperature, as I expected, has gone down with a run since -she heard you were coming. The doctor says all will be well now." - -Mona drew a long breath of relief, and looked up in his face with a -smile. - -He laid his hand on her shoulder. "Where is your luggage?" - -"This porter has my valise. That is all." - -They got into a hansom, while the tall footman conducted Doris to a -neat brougham, and a moment later they rattled away. - -If Sir Douglas made Mona "a girl again," Mr Reynolds made her feel -herself a child. With him her superficial crust of cynicism vanished -like hoar-frost before the sun, and gave place to a gentle deference -which had completely won the old man's heart. "The type of woman I -admire," he had said with dignity to Lucy, "is the woman of clear -intellect;" but it is probable that the woman of clear intellect -would have appealed to him less, if she had not looked at him with -pathetic revering eyes that seemed to say, "They call me clever and -strong, but I am only a fatherless girl after all." - -"Will Lucy be settled for the night when we get home?" Mona asked, -when she had exhausted her other questions. - -"No; she gets a hypodermic injection of morphia when the pain comes -on, and that was to be postponed, if possible, till our arrival." - -In a few minutes the cab drew up at a dimly lighted door in -Bloomsbury. The house was old-fashioned and substantial; but a -certain air of squalor is inseparably associated with most London -lodgings, and it was not altogether absent here. - -"Will you show this lady to her room?" said the clergyman courteously -to the maid who opened the door. - -"Not yet, thank you," said Mona. "Show me to Miss Reynolds's room, -please. I will go there first." - -The room was brightly lighted with a pretty lamp, for Lucy could not -bear to have anything gloomy about her. She was lying in bed, -propped up with pillows, her eyes curiously large and bright, her -cheeks thin, her face worn with recent suffering. - -Mona bit her lip hard. She had not realised that a few days of fever -and pain could work such a change. - -Lucy tried to stretch out her arms, and then let them fall with a -pitiful little laugh. "I can't hug you yet, Mona," she said, "but -oh! it is good to see you," and tears of sheer physical weakness -filled her eyes. - -"You poor little thing! What a scolding you shall have when you are -better! You are not to be trusted out of my sight for a moment." - -"I know," said Lucy feebly. "I never should have got ill if you had -been here; and now I shall just have one illness after another, till -you come back and go on with your work." - -She looked so infinitely pathetic and unlike herself that Mona could -scarcely find words. Instinctively she took Lucy's wrist in one cool -hand, and laid the other on the child's flushed cheek. - -"Oh, I am all right now. Of course my heart bounded off when I heard -the hansom stop. But here comes my doctor. I scarcely need you to -send me to Paradise to-night, doctor; my friend Miss Maclean has -come." - -Mona held out her hand. "Your name is almost as familiar to me as my -own," she said. "It is a great pleasure to meet you." - -Dr Alice Bateson took the proffered hand without replying, and the -two women exchanged a frank critical survey. Both seemed to be -satisfied with the result. Dr Bateson had come in without gloves, -and with a shawl thrown carelessly about her girlish figure. Her hat -had seen palmier days, but its bent brim shaded a pair of earnest -brown eyes and a resolute mouth. - -"She means work," thought Mona. "There is no humbug about her." - -"The girl has some _nous_," thought the doctor. "She would keep her -head in an emergency." - -"Well, and how are you?" she said, turning with brusque kindness to -Lucy. - -"Oh, I am all right--not beyond the need of your stiletto yet, -though," and she held out a pretty white arm. - -The medical visit did not last more than three minutes. Dr Bateson -took no fees from medical students, and she had too many patients on -her books to waste much time over them, unless there seemed to be a -chance that she could be of definite use, physical or moral. She had -spent hours with Lucy when things were at their worst, but minutes -were ample now. - -"Oh yes. Miss Reynolds will do famously," she said to Mona, who had -left the room with her. "Fortunately I was close at hand, and she -sent for me in time. With a temperament like hers, the temperature -runs up and down very readily, and it went up so quickly that I was -rather uneasy, but it never reached a really alarming height. Good -night, Miss Maclean. I hope we shall see you at 'The New' before -long." - -"Thank you; there is nothing I should like better than to work under -you at the Women's Hospital," and Mona ran back to Lucy's room. - -"Now, my baby," she said caressingly, "I will arrange your pillows, -and you shall go to sleep like a good child." - -"Sleep," said Lucy dreamily. "I don't _sleep_. I go through the -looking-glass into the queerest, most fantastic world you can -imagine. _C'est magnifique--mais--ce n'est pas--le--sommeil._" She -roused herself with a slight effort. "About three I go to sleep, and -don't wake till ten. How good it will be to see you beside me in the -morning!" - -Mr Reynolds came into the room, kissed the little white hand that lay -on the counterpane, and then gave Mona his arm. - -"You poor child," he said, as they left the room together, "you must -be worn out and faint. That is your room, and the sitting-room is -just at the foot of the stair. I will leave the door open. Supper -is waiting." - -A very pleasant hour the two spent together. Mona was at her best -with Mr Reynolds,--simple, earnest, off her guard; and as for the -clergyman, he was almost always at his best now. - -"I felt quite sure you would come," he said, "but I am ashamed to -think of the trouble to which you have been put. I hope you have not -had a very tiresome journey?" - -"I have had a most pleasant journey from Edinburgh. My friend Doris -Colquhoun came with me." - -"Was that the fair young lady with the children? I was going to ask -if you knew her. She had a very pleasing face." - -"Yes; the children don't belong to her, but she has been mothering -their weary mother. Doris is such a good woman. She does not care a -straw for the petty personal things that most of us are occupied -with. Even home comforts are a matter of indifference to her. But -for animals, and poor women, and the cause of the oppressed -generally, she has the enthusiasm of a martyr." - -"She looks a mere girl." - -"She is about my age; but she is so much less self-centred than I am, -that she has always seemed to me a good deal older. She is my -mother-confessor, and far too indulgent for the post." - -"'A heart at leisure from itself'?" - -"Yes, that is Doris all over. I don't believe she ever passed a -sleepless night for sorrows of her own. By the way, Lucy says the -morphia does not make her sleep." - -"So she says, but it seems difficult to draw the line between -sleeping and waking when one is under opium. I shall be thankful -when Lucy can dispense with the drug, though I shall never forget my -gratitude when I first saw the doctor administer it. It seemed to -wipe out the pain as a wet sponge wipes out the marks on a slate." - -"I know. There is nothing like it. We had a case in hospital of a -man who was stabbed in the body. Modern surgery might have saved -him, but he came into hospital too late, and they kept him more or -less under morphia till the end. Whenever he began to come out of -it, he wailed, 'Give me morphia, give me morphia!' and, oh, how -unspeakably thankful one was that there was morphia to give him!" - -The old man sighed. "It is a difficult subject, the 'mystery of -pain.' We believe in its divine mission, and yet our theories vanish -in the actual presence of it. When pain has been brought on by sin -and folly, and seems morally to have a distinct remedial value, we -should surely be very slow to relieve it; and yet how can we, seeing -as we do only one little span of existence, judge of remedial value, -except on a very small scale?" - -"And therefore," said Mona deprecatingly, "we should surely err on -the safe side, and be merciful, except in a case that is absolutely -clear even to our finite eyes. At the best, the wear and tear of -pain lowers our stamina--makes us less fit for the battle of life, -more open to temptation." - -He sighed again. - - "'So runs my dream, but what am I? - An infant crying in the night!' - -Ah, well! if we can say at the last day, 'I was not wise, but I tried -to be merciful,' I think we shall find forgiveness: and, if we are to -find peace and acceptance, so surely must all those whom we have -wittingly or unwittingly wronged." - -Pleasant as the evening was, Mr Reynolds insisted on making it a very -short one. - -"No, no. Indeed you shall not sit up with Lucy to-night. You want -rest as much as she does. If she still needs any one to-morrow, we -will talk about it, but she is progressing by strides." He kissed -Mona on the forehead, and she went to her own room, to sleep a long -dreamless sleep, broken only by the entrance of the hot water next -morning. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. - -A RENCONTRE. - -True to her promise, Doris called before eleven. - -"Well, this is a surprise," said Mona. "I did not in the least -expect to see you." - -"Why? I said I would come." - -"Yes; but I thought you would go off to visit that woman, and forget -all about me. What is old friendship when weighed against the -misfortune of being 'hadden doon' of a husband and four children!" - -"The man was a selfish brute," said Doris, ignoring an imputation she -would have resented if her mind had been less full of other things. -"Did you notice? He let his wife carry more than half the bundles. -I sent John to take them from her, and fortunately that put him to -shame." - -"And how did John like it?" - -Doris laughed. "Oh, I don't know; I never thought of him. I think -John is rather attached to me." - -"I have yet to meet the man in any rank of life who knows you and is -not attached to you. I think that has taught me more of the nature -of men than any other one thing. They little dream of the contempt -and scorn that lie behind that daisy face, and yet they seem to know -by a sort of instinct that their charms are thrown away on you,--that -the fruit is out of reach; and instead of sensibly saying 'sour -grapes,' they knock themselves to pieces against the wall." - -"Mona, you do talk nonsense! I have scarcely had an offer of -marriage in my life." - -"I imagine that few women who really respect themselves have more -than one, unless the men of their acquaintance--like the population -of the British Isles--are 'mostly fools.'" - -"Oh, they are all that. But I think what you say is very true. The -first offer comes like a slap in the face, 'out of the everywhere.' -Who could have foreseen it? But after that one gets to know when -there is electricity in the air, don't you think so?" - -"I suppose so. But the experience is not much in my line. Sensible -men are rather apt to think me a _guter Kamerad_, and one weak-minded -young curate asked me to share two hundred a year with him--his -'revenue' he called it, by the way. Behold the extent of my dominion -over the other sex! I sometimes think," she added gloomily, "it is -commensurate with the extent to which I have attained the ideal of -womanhood!" - -"Mona! If the sons of God were to take unto themselves wives of the -daughters of men, we should hear a different tale. As things are, I -am glad you are not a man's woman. You are a woman's woman, which is -infinitely better. If you could be turned into a man to-morrow, half -the girls of your acquaintance would marry you. I know I would, for -one." - -"You are my oldest friend, Doris," said Mona gratefully. "The others -like me because I am moody and mysterious, and occasionally motherly. -Women always fall in love with the Unknown." - -"How could they marry men if it were otherwise?" said Doris, but she -did not in the least mean it for wit. - -"You miserable old cynic! I am going to introduce you to-day--I say -advisedly introduce _you_--to a man who will convert even Doris -Colquhoun to a love of his sex. He met me at the station last night, -but I suppose you were too much taken up with your _protégées_ to -notice him." - -"I caught a glimpse of white hair and an old-world bow. One can't -judge of faces in the glaring light and black shadows of a railway -station at night." - -"That's true. Everybody looks like an amateur photograph taken -indoors. But you shall see Mr Reynolds to-day. He promised to come -in. Present company excepted, I don't know that I love any one in -the world as I do him--unless it be Sir Douglas Munro." - -"Sir Douglas Munro! Oh Mona! I heard my father say once that Sir -Douglas was a good fellow, but that no one could look at him and -doubt that he had sown his wild oats very thoroughly." - -"_Don't!_" said Mona, with a little stamp of her foot. "Why need we -think of it? I cannot even tell you how kind he has been to me." - -Doris was about to reply, but Mr Reynolds came in at the moment, and -they chatted on general topics for a few minutes. "Dr Alice Bateson -has just come in," he said, in answer to Doris's inquiry after Lucy. - -Doris's face flushed. "Oh," she said eagerly, "I should so like to -meet Dr Alice Bateson." - -"Should you?" he said, with a fatherly smile. "That is easily -managed. We will open the door and waylay her as she comes down. -Ah, doctor! here is a young lady from Scotland who is all anxiety to -make your acquaintance. May I introduce her?" - -Miss Bateson came in. She did not at all like to be made a lion of, -but Doris's fair, eager face was irresistible. - -"I am very glad," Doris said shyly, "to express my personal thanks to -any woman who is helping on what I consider one of the noblest causes -in the world." - -"It is a grand work," said Dr Bateson rather shortly. "Miss----" she -looked at Mona. - -"Maclean," said Mona, with a smile. - -"Miss Maclean will be able to show you our School and Hospital. -Perhaps we may meet some day at the Hospital. Good morning." - -"Well?" said Mona, when she was gone. - -"I think she is splendid--so energetic and sensible. But, you know, -I do wish she wore gloves; and she would look so nice in a bonnet." - -"Come, don't be narrow-minded." - -"I am not narrow-minded. Personally I like her all the better for -her unconventionality. It is the Cause I am thinking of." - -"Oh, the Cause! It seems to me, dear, that the prophets of great -causes always have a thorn in the flesh that they themselves are -conscious of, and half-a-dozen other thorns that other people are -conscious of; but the cause survives notwithstanding." - -"I have no doubt that it will survive; but it seems to me that a -little care on the part of the prophets would make it grow so much -faster. Well, dear, I must go. I will come again on Friday. You -will come to my aunt's 'At Home,' won't you?" - -"If Lucy is better, and your aunt gives me another chance, I shall be -only too glad. I shall have to unearth a gown from my boxes at -Tilbury's. Heigh-ho, Doris! I might as well have gone all along, -for all the good my abstinence did me. A deal of wasted pluck and -moral courage goes to failing in one's Intermediate M.B.!" - -"You have been gone a quarter of an hour," said Lucy fretfully, when -Mona re-entered the sick-room, "and Miss Colquhoun had you all day -yesterday." - -"You are getting better, little woman," said Mona, kissing her. - -"We have so much to talk about----" - -"So we have, dear, but not to-day, nor yet to-morrow. I won't have -my coming throw you back. You are to eat all the milk and eggs and -nursery pudding that you possibly can, and I will read you the last -new thing in three-volume novels." - -Lucy resigned herself to this _régime_ the more readily as she was -too weak to talk; and she certainly did make remarkable progress in -the next day or two. She was very soon able--rather to her own -disappointment--to do without morphine at night; and when, a few days -later, Mona read the last page of the novel, Lucy was lying in a -healthy natural sleep. - -Mona stole out of the room, listened outside the door for a minute or -two, and then ran down-stairs. - -"I hope you are going out?" said Mr Reynolds, looking up from his -_Guardian_. "You have been shut up for three or four days now." - -"Yes; I told Lucy that if she went to sleep I would go for a run. -She is to ring as soon as she wakes." - -"Well, don't hurry back. I expect the child will sleep all the -afternoon; and if she does not, she may content herself with the old -man's company for an hour or two." - -"Lucky girl!" said Mona, looking at him affectionately. "I should -think 'the old man's company' would more than make up to most people -for being ill." - -Lucy's fellow-students had called regularly to enquire for her, and -this Friday morning a bright young girl had come in on her way to the -Medical School, at the same moment as Doris Colquhoun. - -"I only wish I were going with you," Doris had said to her; and Mona -had thankfully availed herself of the opportunity so to arrange -matters. - -"I will go and have tea with Doris now," she thought, "and hear all -her impressions before their edge has worn off." - -She set off in high spirits. After all, it was very pleasant to be -in London again, especially in this bright cold weather. The -shop-windows still had all their old attraction, and she stopped -every few minutes to look at the new winter fads and fashions, -wondering what pretty things it would be well to take back to -Borrowness; for Rachel had reluctantly consented to the investment of -a few pounds in fresh stock-in-trade. - -"Whatever I buy will be hideously out of keeping with everything -else," thought Mona; "but a shop ought to be a shop before it -professes to be a work of art. At present it is what Dr Dudley would -call 'neither fish, flesh, fowl, nor guid red herrin'.'" - -She had taken the measure of her _clientèle_ at Borrowness pretty -correctly, and she had a very good idea what things would appeal to -their fancy, without offending her own somewhat fastidious taste; but -she took as much pride in making the most of those pounds as if her -own bread and cheese had depended on it. "We will do nothing -hastily, my dear," she said to herself. "We will exhaust all the -possibilities before we commit ourselves to the extent of one -shilling. Oh dear, I am glad I have not to go to the School after -all! I am in no mood for fencing." - -Rash thought! It had scarcely passed through her mind before a voice -behind her said-- - -"How do you do, Miss Maclean?" and looking round she saw two of her -fellow-students, bag in hand. - -As ill-luck would have it, one of them was the only student of her -own year with whom Mona had always found herself absolutely out of -sympathy. This one it was who spoke. - -"It is a surprise to see you! Miss Reynolds said you were not coming -back this winter." - -"Nor am I. I am only in town for a day or two." - -"Are you reading at home?" - -"At present I am not reading at all." - -"It seems a great pity." - -"Do you think so? I think it does us no harm to climb up -occasionally on the ridge that separates our little furrow from all -the others, and see what is going on in the rest of the field." - -"But you always did that, did you not? I thought you were a great -authority on the uses of frivolling." - -"And you thought it a pity that the results of my examinations did -not do more to bear out my teaching? Never mind. It is only one of -the many cases in which a worthy cause has suffered temporarily in -the hands of an unworthy exponent." - -The girl coloured. Mona's hypersensitive perception had read her -thought very correctly. - -"We miss you dreadfully," put in the other student hastily. "I do -wish you would come back." - -"I suppose," continued the first, glancing at the window before which -they had met, "you are busy with your winter shopping. Regent Street -has not lost its old attractions, though the Medical School has." - -"What would they say," thought Mona, "if I calmly told them the whole -truth?--that I am, with the utmost care and economy, buying goods for -a very small shop in Borrowness, behind the counter of which I have -the honour of standing, and serving a limited, and not very -enlightened, public." - -For a moment the temptation to "make their hair stand on end" was -almost irresistible; but fortunately old habits of reserve are not -broken through in a moment, and she merely said, "Oh no. It will be -a serious symptom when Regent Street loses its attractions. That -would indeed be a strong indication for quinine and cod-liver oil, or -any other treatment you can suggest for melancholia. Good-bye, and -success to you both!" - -She shook hands--rather cavalierly with the first, cordially with the -second. "_You_ all right?" she asked quietly, as they parted. - -"Yes, thank you." - -"She _is_ queer," said the student who had spoken first, when Mona -was out of hearing. "My private opinion is that she is going to be -married. My brother saw her on board one of the Fjord steamers in -Norway a month or two ago, with a very correct party; and he said a -tall fellow 'with tremendous calves' was paying her a lot of -attention." - -"Did your brother speak to her?" - -"No. He was much smitten with her at the last prize-giving, and -wanted me to introduce him, but I did not get a chance. She knows a -lot of people. I think she gives herself too many airs, don't you?" - -"I used to, but I began to think last term that that was a mistake. -You know, Miss Burnet, I like her." - -"I don't." - -"The fact is,"--the girl coloured and drew a long breath,--"I know -you won't repeat it, but I have much need to like her. I was in -frightful straits for money last term. I actually had a summons -served upon me. I could not tell my people at home, and one night, -when I was simply in despair, I went to Miss Maclean. I did not like -her, but borrowers can afford even less than beggars to be choosers, -and she always seemed to have plenty of money. She was by no means -the first person I had applied to, and I had ceased to expect -anything but refusals. Well, I shall never forget how her face -lighted up as she said, 'How good of you to come to me! I know what -it is to be short of money myself.' I did not think she gave herself -airs then; I would have worked my fingers to the bone, if it had been -necessary, to pay her back before the end of term." - -"I don't see anything so wonderful in that. She had the money, and -you had not." - -"That's all very well. Wait till you have been refused by -half-a-dozen people who could quite afford to help you. Wait till -you have been treated to delightful theories on the evils of -borrowing, when you are half frantic for the want of a few pounds." - -"I am sure Miss Maclean wastes money enough. I was in the pit at the -Lyceum one night, and I saw her and Miss Reynolds in the stalls. I -am quite sure none of the money came out of Miss Reynolds' pocket." - -"Miss Reynolds is a highly favoured person. I quite admit that there -is nothing wonderful about _her_. But I like Miss Maclean, and if -she gives up medicine she will be a terrible loss." - -"She has been twice ploughed." - -"The more shame to the examiners!" - - -"Doris," said Mona a few minutes later, as she entered the æsthetic -drawing-room where her friend was sitting alone at tea, "stay me with -Mazawattee and comfort me with crumpets, for I have just met my _bête -noire_." - -Doris looked up with a bright smile of welcome. "Come," she said, -"'don't be narrow-minded'!" - -Mona took up a down cushion and threw it at her friend. - -"Pick that up, please," said Doris quietly. "If my aunt comes in and -sees her new Liberty cushion on the floor, it will be the end of you, -so far as her good graces are concerned." - -Mona picked it up, half absently, and replaced it on the sofa. - -"Well, go on. Tell me all about your _bête noire_. Who is he?" - -"_He_, of course! How is one to break it to you, dear Doris, that -every member of our charming sex is not at once a Hebe and a Minerva?" - -"I will try to bear up--remembering that 'God Almighty made them to -match the men.' Proceed." - -But Mona did not proceed at once. She drank her tea and looked -fierce. - -"I am narrow-minded," she said at last. "I wish that any power, -human or divine, would prevent all women from studying medicine till -they are twenty-three, and any woman from studying it at all, unless -she has some one qualification, physical, mental, moral, or social, -for the work. These remarks do not come very aptly from one who has -been twice ploughed, but we are among friends." - -"Well, dear," said Doris thoughtfully, "there were a few students at -the School to-day whom one could have wished to see--elsewhere; but -on the whole, they struck me as a party of happy, healthy, sensible, -hard-working girls." - -"Did they?" said Mona eagerly; "I am very glad." - -"Yes, assuredly they did, and a few of them seemed to be really -remarkable women." - -"Oh yes! the exceptions are all right; but tell me about your visit. -I wish you could have gone in summer, when they are sitting about in -the garden with books and bones, and materia medica specimens." - -"Two of them were playing tennis when I went in--playing uncommonly -well too. We watched them for a while, and then we went to the -dissecting-room." - -"Well?" - -"I am very glad you told me what you did about it--very. I think if -I had gone quite unprepared I might have found it very ghastly and -very awful. It is painful, of course, but it is intensely -interesting. The demonstrator is such a nice girl. She took me -round and showed me the best dissections; I had no idea the things -looked like that. Do you know"--Doris waxed triumphant--"I know what -fascia is, and I know a tendon from a nerve, and both from a vein." - -"You have done well. Some of us who have worked for years cannot say -as much--in a difficult case." - -"Don't mock me; you know what I mean. Oh, Mona, how you can be in -London and not go back to your work is more than I can imagine." - -"Yes? That is interesting, but not strictly to the point. What did -you do when you left the dissecting-room?" - -"Attended a physiology lecture, delivered by a young man who kept his -eyes on the ceiling, and never moved a muscle of his face, unless it -was absolutely necessary." - -"I know," said Mona, laughing; "but he knew exactly what was going on -in the room all the time, and was doubtless wondering who the new and -intelligent student was. He is delightful." - -"He seemed nice," said Doris judicially, "and he certainly was very -clever; but it would be much better to have women lecturers." - -"That's true. But not unless they did the work every whit as well as -men. You must not forget, dear, that a good laundress helps on the -'cause' of women better than a bad doctor or lecturer." - -"Oh, I know that. But there must be plenty of women capable of -lecturing on physiology." - -Mona shrugged her shoulders. - -"More things go to making a good physiology lecturer than you -imagine,--a great many more," she added impressively. - -Doris's face flushed. - -"Not vivisection!" she exclaimed. - -"Yes, vivisection. It may be that our modern science has gone off on -an entirely wrong tack; it may be, as a young doctor said to me at -Borrowness the other day, that we cannot logically stop short now of -vivisecting human beings; but, as things are at present, I do not see -how any man can conscientiously take an important lectureship on -physiology, unless he does original work. I don't mean to say that -he must be at that part of it all the time. Far from it. He may -make chemical physiology or histology his specialty. But you see -physiology is such a floating, growing, mobile science. It exists in -no text-book. Photograph it one day, and the picture is -unrecognisable the next. What the physiologist has to do is to -plunge his mind like a thermometer, into the world of physiological -investigation, and register one thing one moment, and another thing -the next. He need never carry on experiments on living animals -before his students, but he must live in the midst of the growing -science--or be a humbug. I thought once that I should like nothing -better than to be a lecturer on physiology, but I see now that it is -impossible," she shivered,--"although, you know, dear, vivisection, -as it exists in the popular mind, is a figment of the imaginations of -the anti-vivisectionists." - -Doris did not reply. She could not bear to think that Mona did not -judge wisely and truly; she tried to agree with her in most things; -but this was a hard saying. - -"What does the young doctor at Borrowness say to a woman doctor?" she -asked suddenly. - -Mona winced. "He does not know that I am a medical student. Why -should he?" - -"Oh, Mona, you don't mean to say you have not told him! What an -opportunity lost!" - -"It is not my custom to go about ticketed, dear; but, if you wish, -you shall tie a label round my neck." - -"However, you will see him again. There is no hurry." - -"It is to be hoped not," said Mona a little bitterly; "and now, dear, -I must go." - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. - -A CLINICAL REPORT. - -Lucy was up--actually standing by the fire in her own room--and Lucy -was as saucy as ever. - -"I believe you have grown," said Mona, regarding her critically. - -"I should think I had! I must be two inches taller at least. What -do you think, Mona? I have had two offers of marriage this summer." - -"That is not surprising. I never had much opinion of the -intelligence of the other sex. I hope you refused them." - -"I did; but I will accept the next man who asks me, even if he is a -chimney-sweep, just to spite you." - -"Poor chimney-sweep! But look here, Pussy, you should not stand so -long. Sit down in the arm-chair, and let me wrap you up in the -eider-down. And put your feet on the stool--so! Comfy?" - -"Very comfy, thanks." - -"When you are strong enough, I want you to give me a full, -particular, and scientific account of your illness. How came you by -acute rheumatism? You are not a beef and beer man." - -"Well, when I went home I was in the most tearing spirits for the -first week, and then I gradually began to feel fit for nothing. No -appetite, short breath, and all the rest of it. I knew all I wanted -was a tonic, and I determined to prescribe one for myself, on the -strength of an intimate acquaintance with Mitchell Bruce. As a -preparatory step, in the watches of the night, I tried to run over -the ingredients and doses of the preparations of iron; but for the -life of me I could not remember them. Think of it! A month after -the examination! I could not even remember that _pièce de -resistance_--you know!--the 'cinchona bark, calumba root, cloves' -thing." - -"Compound tincture of cardamoms and tincture of orange-peel," -completed Mona mechanically. - -"Of course. That's it. 'Macerated in peppermint-water,' wasn't it? -or something of that sort. However, it does not matter now that I -have passed." - -"Not in the least!" - -"Well, while I meditated, mother sent for the doctor, a mere -boy--ugh! If I had been seriously ill, I should have said, 'Welcome -death!' and declined to see him; but it was only a question of a -tonic, so I resigned myself. He prescribed hypophosphites, and said -I was to have a slice off the roast, or a chop or something, and a -glass of porter twice a day." - -"_Ah!_" said Mona. - -"It was no use telling mother that the infant knew less than I did. -He was 'the doctor,' and that was enough. His word was law. I will -say this for him, that I did get stronger; but just before I came -back to town, I began to feel ill in quite a different way; -indescribably queer, and fidgety and wretched. Mother made me stick -to the beef and porter, as if my soul's weal had depended on it, and -we all hoped the change to London might do me good. Just at first, I -did feel a little better, and one afternoon Marion Proctor asked me -to go down the river with her, and I went. My white dress was newly -washed, and I had just done up my hat for the sixth time this summer. -You may say what you like, Mona, but I did look awfully nice." - -"I don't doubt it." - -"I did not take my waterproof, because it completely spoilt the -general effect, and I was sure it would not rain; but, as I told you, -a tremendous thunderstorm came on, and we were drenched." - -"Oh, Lucy!" - -"When we got back here, there was not a fire in the house, and, do -what I would, I got thoroughly chilled. I was shivering so, and I -felt so feverish, that Marion insisted on spending the night with me. -She slept in the room you have, and I was to knock on the wall if I -wanted her." - -Lucy stopped and shivered. - -"There, dear," said Mona, "you will tell me the rest another time. -You are tiring yourself." - -"No, I am not; I like to tell you. Mona, I woke at two in the -morning with these words in my mind, 'The sufferings of the damned.' -Don't call me irreverent. You don't know what it is. It took me -_three-quarters of an hour_ to get out of bed to knock for Marion, -and the tears were running down my face like rain." - -"My poor baby!" Mona got up and knelt down beside her; but Lucy was -already laughing at the next recollection. - -"Oh, Mona, I did not see the comedy of it then, but I shall never -forget that sight. The glimmering candle--Marion shivering in her -night-dress, her sleepy eyes blinking as she read from a medical -book, 'Rheumatism is probably due to excess of sarcolactic acid in -the blood'! as if I was not far past caring what it was due to! Good -old Marion! she dressed herself at once, and at six she went for Dr -Bateson. Of course with the dawn the pain just came within the -limits of endurance; but when the doctor gave me morphia, I could -have fallen down and worshipped her." - -"You poor little girl! How I wish I had been here! Let me go, dear, -a minute. It is time for your medicine.' - -"Nasty bitter-sweet stuff--I wish I could stop _that_!" - -"Why? I am sure it has worked wonders. How I wish we knew exactly -how it acts!" - -Lucy laughed. "You are as bad as Marion," she said. "If you were on -the rack, you would not trouble yourself to understand the mechanism -that stopped the wheels, so long as they were stopped. I leave it to -you, dear, to cultivate the infant bacillus on a nice little nutrient -jelly, and then polish him off with a dilute solution of salicin." - -"What we want now," said Mona meditatively, stroking the curly red -hair, "is to get back our baby face. How do we mean to set about it?" - -Lucy made a little _moue_. "Dr Bateson said something about the -south of France--such a waste of time! And Father says when I come -back to London I am to live at the College Hall again." - -"I am very glad to hear it. I always thought your leaving was a -great mistake." - -"Why, you lived in rooms yourself!" - -"Oh, _I_! I am an old granny full of fads, and quite able to take -care of myself." - -"Your best friend could not deny that you are full of fads; and that -reminds me, Mona, it is your innings now. I am 'clagging' to hear -all about Borrowness, and the shop and your cousin. Your last letter -fell very flat on expectant spirits." - -Mona went leisurely back to her chair. "You see, dear," she said, "I -am in rather a difficult position. It would be very amusing to give -you a piquant account of my doings; but I went to Borrowness of my -own free will, and even an unvarnished story of my life there would -be disloyal to my cousin. Borrowness is not a pretty place. The -country is flat, but the coast is simply glorious. The rocks----" - -"Thanks--I don't mind taking the rocks for granted. I want to hear -about your cousin and the shop." - -"I will give you a rough outline of my cousin, and leave the details -to your vivid imagination. She is very kind, very pious, very -narrow, and very dull." - -"_Good Lord deliver us!_" murmured Lucy gravely. "And the shop?" - -"The shop is awful. You can imagine nothing worse than the truth." - -"A nice sphere for Mona Maclean!" - -"Oh, my dear, there is sphere enough in all conscience--only too much -sphere! I never saw so clearly in my life before that nothing -depends on what a man does, but that everything depends on how he -does it. Even that twopenny-halfpenny shop might be made a centre of -culture and taste and refinement for the whole neighbourhood." - -"You would have to get rid of your cousin first." - -"I don't know. One would rather have quite a free hand. But she is -wonderfully liberal about things that must seem sheer nonsense to -her." - -"She well may be!" - -"That is absurd. Why should she pay in appreciation for qualities -that she does not in the least want, and would rather be without? -You must not judge of my suitability to her by my suitability -to--you, for instance." - -"Then she does not even appreciate you?" - -Mona meditated before replying. "She likes me," she said, "but she -thinks me absurdly 'superior' one minute, and gratuitously frivolous -the next. She has not got hold of the main thread of my character, -so of course she thinks me a bundle of inconsistencies." - -"Why do you stay?" - -Mona sighed. "We won't go into that, dear. I have committed myself. -Besides, my cousin likes me; she was very unwilling to part with me, -even for a week." - -"Selfish brute!" said Lucy inconsistently. "Is there any society?" - -"No; but if there were, it would consider itself a cut above me." - -"Any men?" - -There was a momentary pause. "My dear, do I ever know anything about -the men in a place?" - -"I was hoping you had started a few of your Platonic friendships. -They would at least save you from moping to death." - -"Moping to death!" said Mona, springing to her feet "My dear child, I -never was farther from that in my life. I botanise, and once in a -way I meet some of the greatest living scientists. I do the best -sketches I ever did in my life, and I have developed a greater talent -for millinery than you can even conceive!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. - -A VOICE IN THE FOG. - -A dense fog hung over the city. - -Doris and Mona had spent half the day among the shops and stores, and -Mona was in a glow of satisfaction. She was convinced that no human -being had ever made a ten-pound note go so far before, and it was -with difficulty that she could be induced to talk of anything else. - -Doris was much amused. She believed in letting people "gang their -ain gait," and a day with Mona was worth having under most -conditions; but how any intelligent human being could elect to spend -it so, was more than she could divine. - -"It would have come to all the same in the end," she said, laughing, -"if you had sent a general order to the Stores, and left the details -to them; and it would have saved a vast amount of energy." - -"Ah!" said Mona. When the two girls were together, Mona felt about -petty things what Doris felt about great ones, that one must not -expect absolute sympathy even from one's dearest friends. - -By common consent, however, they dropped into St James's Hall for an -hour, when their work was over, to refresh themselves with a little -music. The overture to Tannhäuser was the last item on the -programme, and Mona would have walked twenty miles any day to hear -that. It was dark when they left the building, and the fog had -reduced the sphere of each street lamp to a radius of two or three -yards; but Mona could easily have found her way home to "blessed -Bloomsbury" with her eyes shut. Doris was going to the Reynolds' to -supper, to meet Lucy for the first time, and her aunt's brougham was -to fetch her at night. - -"Listen, Mona," she said suddenly, as they made their way along -Piccadilly, "there are two men behind us discussing your beloved -Tannhäuser." - -This was interesting. Mona mentally relinquished her knick-knacks, -and pricked up her ears. - -At first she could only hear something about "sheer noise," "hideous -crash of chords," "gospel of din"; but a moment later the hand that -rested on Doris's arm twitched involuntarily, for the mellow, -cultured voice that took up the discussion was strangely familiar. - -"My dear fellow, to my mind that is precisely the point of the whole -thing. The Pilgrims' Chorus is beautiful and suggestive when one -hears it simply and alone, in its own special sphere, so to speak; -but when it rises clear, steady, and unvarying, without apparent -exertion, above all the reiterated noise and crash and distraction of -the world, the flesh, and the devil,--why, then, it is an -inspiration. It becomes triumphant by sheer force of continuing to -be itself." - -The first voice said something about "want of melody." and then the -deep bass went on,-- - -"I am not at all learned in the discussion from a technical point of -view. To my mind it is simply a question of making the opera an -organic whole,--not a collection of works of art, but one work of -art. Take _Don Juan_ for instance----" - -The men turned down a side street, and the voices died away in the -distance. - -"What a beautiful voice!" said Doris. - -"Yes." - -"Do you know, Mona, I think that must have been a nice man." - -"Because of the voice?" - -"Because of the voice, and because of what the voice said. Young men -don't talk like that as a rule." - -"How do you know he was young?" - -"I am sure that 'my dear fellow' was not more than twenty-five." - -"Twenty-seven, I should think," said Mona reflectively. - -Doris laughed. "You are very exact. Or is it that you have gone -back to the inkstands?" - -Mona sighed. "Yes," she said gravely, "I have gone back to the -inkstands." - -There was silence for a few minutes. - -"I should like to know who that young man was," said Doris presently. - -"Why, Doris, you are coming out in a new _rôle_. It is not like you -to be interested in a young man." - -"The more reason why I should be interested in an exceptional one." - -"You dear old Doris!" said Mona affectionately. "He talks well, -certainly; but what if talking be, like Gretchen's beauty, his -_Yerderben_?" - -"I don't think it likely--not that kind of talking." - -"Assuredly that kind--if any." - -But she thought, "Not any. He has chosen the right corrective. If -he possesses the gift of utterance, he will at least have something -to utter." - -"It has been such a delightful week," said Doris, "and now another -nice long railway journey with you to-morrow will bring it all to an -end. You are a highly privileged mortal, Mona, to be able to order -your life as you choose." - -Mona smiled without replying. This was a well-worn subject of debate. - -"I know what you are going to say," continued Doris. "But it is no -use asking me. I don't know _which_ of those little inkstands was -the best, and I think you did very wisely in ordering an equal number -of both." - -"Yes," said Mona; "and the hinges were so strong, weren't they? That -is the point to look to in a cheap inkstand." - - -"What an age you have been!" said Lucy, as they entered the -dining-room, where she was seated by the fire, arrayed in her -comfortable dressing-gown. "I was just going to send the bellman -after you. So glad to meet you, Miss Colquhoun." - -"She is not so pretty as I am," Lucy thought, "but Mona will never -see that." - -Certainly Lucy's interest in the afternoon's shopping abundantly -atoned for Doris's lofty indifference. "Of course, you had to have -the things sent straight to the station," she said, "but I do wish I -could have gone with you. Tell me all about it. Where did you go -first?" - -Fortunately Mr Reynolds came in at this moment, so Doris was not -forced to go over all the ribbons and flowers and note-paper and -what-nots again. - -"Keep a thing seven years, and its use will come," said Mona. "My -childish passion for shop-windows and pretty things has stood me in -good stead, you see. You have no idea how crisp and fresh all the -things looked. The shop will simply be another place. I need not -blush now whenever a new customer comes in." - -"How I wish I could come and see it!" said Lucy. "I am sure I could -'dress a window' beautifully. Do you think Borrowness would do me as -much good as the Riviera? It would come a great deal cheaper, would -not it?" - -"Much," said Mona, smiling; "but the cutting east wind has a knack of -finding out one's weak places, and you must not forget that you have -a traitor in the garrison now." - -"It is so awfully unfortunate! My fees are paid, and of course there -have been a lot of new books this term. Father simply cannot afford -to send me away." - -"Don't fret. I think you will find that it can be done very cheaply." - -"Cheapness is a relative thing. You must remember that our whole -income does not come to much more than yours." - -"Well, at least your board here would be saved." - -In point of fact, Mona had already written to Lady Munro about her -friend's illness, and she hoped the answer would be an invitation to -Lucy to spend a month or two at Cannes. Mona knew that the Munros -were not at all the kind of people who are on the outlook for -opportunities to benefit their fellow-men, but for that very reason -they might be the more likely to do a graceful action that actually -came in their way. The arrangement was extremely awkward, so far as -she herself was concerned, for she did not mean the Munros to know -that she was spending the winter at Borrowness. However, that was a -minor and selfish consideration, and no doubt it could be arranged -somehow. - -In the midst of the conversation supper was announced. It was a -homely meal, but the simplest proceedings always acquired a charm and -dignity when Mr Reynolds took part in them. As soon as it was over -he took Mona aside. - -"Dr Bateson tells me it is very desirable that Lucy should get into a -warmer climate for a month or two," he said, "before a rheumatic -habit has any chance to assert itself. I am anxious to send her to -the south of France, and I want you to tell me how it can be cheaply -and satisfactorily done. I need not tell you, after what you saw of -our life when you were with us, that Lucy's education is a heavy -strain upon my purse. In fact, I give it to her because a profession -is almost the only provision I can make for her future. I never -allow myself to be absolutely unprepared for an unexpected drain; but -Lucy's hospital fees have just been paid, and altogether this has -come at a most unfortunate time." - -"I know very little about the matter at present," said Mona, "but I -can easily make enquiries, as I have friends in the Riviera now. My -impression is, that you can do it satisfactorily, and at the same -time cheaply; but I will let you know before the end of the week." - -"If my aunt declines to rise to the occasion," she thought, "I will -manage by hook or by crook to make them take the money from me." - -Meanwhile Doris and Lucy were getting on together pretty well. Doris -was shy, but she was prejudiced in Lucy's favour by the fact that she -was a woman and a medical student. Lucy was not at all shy, but she -was somewhat prejudiced against Doris by the fact that she was Mona's -oldest friend. - -"Did not Mona look lovely at Mrs Percival's 'At Home'?" asked Lucy. -"She always looks nice; but in that blue velvet, with her old lace -and pearls, I think she is like an empress." - -"She has a very noble face, and a very lovable face. I suppose she -is not beautiful, though it is not always easy to believe it." - -"Was she a great success?" - -"I don't think I quite know what you mean by a success. Mona never -commands a room. Perhaps she might if she laid herself out to do it. -Every one who spoke to her seemed much interested in her -conversation." - -This was scarcely to the point. What Lucy wanted to know was whether -Mona had proved "fetching"; but Doris's serene face was not -encouraging, and she dared not ask. - -"Mona is a fortunate being," she said. - -"Oh, very!" - -"It must be delightful to have plenty of new gowns and all sorts of -pretty things." - -Doris looked aghast. Mona sometimes talked in this way, but then -Mona was--Mona. No one could look at her face and suspect her of -real frivolity; but this child ought to be careful. - -"It must be a great deal more delightful to be able to study -medicine," she said, with a little more warmth than she intended. - -Lucy shrugged her shoulders. "Oh yes," she said, uncertain whether -she was speaking in jest or in earnest. Then she laughed,-- - - "So ist es in der Welt; - Der Eine hat den Beutel, - Der Andere das Geld." - - -"The fact is, our circles did not overlap much." she confided to -Mona afterwards. "Our circumferences just touched somewhere about -the middle of your circle." - -"You see, Doris is a great soul." - -"Ample reason, truly, why her circle should not coincide with mine. -But you know, Mona, she would be a deal more satisfactory if she were -a little less great, or a little small as well." - -"She told me you were a dear little thing, and so pretty." - -"_She's_ not pretty!" - -"Perhaps not, but she is fascinating, just because she never tries to -fascinate. A man of the world said to me at that 'At Home,' that -Miss Colquhoun was just the woman to drive a man over head and ears -in love." - -"Did he really? Miss Colquhoun? How queer! What did you say?" - -"I cordially agreed with him." - -"But has she had many offers?" - -"She would not talk of them if she had; but you may take it as -broadly true, that every man of her acquaintance is either living in -hope, or has practically--I say _practically_--been rejected." - -"Oh, Mona, that is a large order! You see, the fact is, I am jealous -of Miss Colquhoun." - -"My dear Pussy! Doris and I were chums before you were born." - -"_Raison de plus_! Look here, dear! you say things to me that you -would not say to her?" - -"Oh yes!" - -"And you don't say things to her that you would not say to me?" - -"Oh yes!" - -Lucy laughed, discomfited. "I choose not to believe it," she said. - -Mona kissed her affectionately. "Come, that is right! With that -comfortable creed for a pillow, you ought to have an excellent night." - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. - -A CHAT BY THE FIRE. - -Mona hesitated at the door of her own room, and then decided to run -down for ten minutes to the sitting-room fire. She was too depressed -to go to bed, and she wanted something to change the current of her -thoughts. To her surprise, she found Mr Reynolds still in his large -arm-chair, apparently lost in thought. - -Prompted by a sudden impulse, she seated herself on a stool close to -him, and laid her hand on his knee. - -"Mr Reynolds," she said, "life looks very grey sometimes." - -He smiled. "We all have to make up our minds to that, dear;" and -after a pause he added, "This is a strange duty that you have imposed -upon yourself." - -"Yes." - -"For six months, is it not?" - -"Yes." - -"How much of the time is over?" - -"Little more than one month." - -"And the life is very uncongenial?" - -"At the present moment--desperately. Not always," she added, -laughing bravely. "Sometimes I feel as if the sphere were only too -great a responsibility; but now--I don't know how to face it -to-morrow." - -"Poor child! I can only guess at all your motives for choosing it; -but you know that - - 'Tasks in hours of insight willed, - Can be through hours of gloom fulfilled.'" - - -"Mr Reynolds, it was not insight, it was impulse. You see, I really -had worked intelligently and conscientiously for years; I had never -indulged in amusement purely for amusement's sake; and when I failed -a second time in my examination, I felt as if the stars in their -courses were fighting against me. It seemed no use to try again. -Things had come to a deadlock. From the time when I was little more -than a child, I had had the ordering of my own life, and perhaps you -will understand how I longed for some one to take the reins for a -bit. On every side I saw girls making light of, and ignoring, home -duties; and, just I suppose because I had never had any, such duties -had always seemed to me the most sacred and precious bit of moral -training possible. I considered at that time that my cousin was -practically my only living relative, and she was very anxious that I -should go to her. I had promised to spend a fortnight with her in -the autumn; but the day after I knew that I had failed, I wrote -offering to stay six months. - -"Of course I ought to have waited till I saw her and the place; but -her niece had just been married, and she really wanted a companion. -If I did not go, she must look out for some one else. I don't mean -to pretend that that was my only reason for acting impulsively. The -real reason was, that I wanted to commit myself to something -definite, to burn my boats on some coast or other. I seemed to have -muddled my own life, and here was a human being who really wanted me, -a human being who had some sort of natural right to me." - -"Dear child, why did you not come and be my elder daughter for a -time? It would have been a grand thing for me." - -Mona laughed through her tears, and, taking his delicate white hand -in both her own, she raised it to her lips. "Sir Douglas said nearly -the same thing, though he does not know what I am doing; but either -of you would have spoilt me a great deal more than I had ever spoilt -myself. You were kind enough to ask me to come to you at the time; -but I thought then that I had passed my examination, and I did not -know you as I do now. I was restless, and wanted to shake off the -cobwebs on a walking tour: but when I heard that I had failed all the -energy seemed to go out of me." - -It was some minutes before he spoke. - -"Tell me about your life at Borrowness. There is a shop, is there -not?" - -"I don't quarrel with the shop," said Mona warmly: "the shop is the -redeeming feature. You don't know how it brings me in contact with -all sorts of little joys and sorrows. I sometimes think I see the -very selves of the women and girls, as neither priest nor -Sunday-school teacher does. I have countless opportunities of -sympathising, and helping, and planning, and economising--even of -educating the tastes of the people the least little bit--and of -suggesting other ways of looking at things. And there is another -side to the question too. Some of those women teach me a great deal -more than I could ever teach them." - -"And what about your cousin?" - -Mona hesitated. "I told Lucy that to give even a plain, unvarnished -account of my life at Borrowness would be a disloyalty to my cousin, -but one can say anything to you. Mr Reynolds, I knew before I went -that my cousin was not a gentlewoman, that ours had for two -generations been the successful, hers the unsuccessful, branch of my -father's family. I knew she lived a simple and narrow life: but how -could I tell that my cousin would be vulgar?--that if under any -circumstances it was possible to take a mean and sordid view of a -person, or an action, or a thing, she would be sure to take that mean -and sordid view? I have almost made a vow never to lose my temper, -but it is hard--it is all the harder because she is so good! - -"Now you know the whole story. Pitch into me well. You are the only -person who is in a position to do it, so your responsibility is -great." - -He had never taken his eyes from her mobile face while she was -speaking. "I have no wish to pitch into you well," he said; "you -disarm one at every turn. I need not tell you that your action in -the first instance was hasty and childish--perhaps redeemed by just a -dash of heroism." - -Mona lifted her face with quivering lips. - -"Never mind the heroism," she said, with a rather pathetic smile. -"It was hasty and childish." - -"But I do mind the heroism very much," he said, passing his hand over -her wavy brown hair. "I believe that some of the deeds which we all -look upon as instances of sublime renunciation have been done in just -such a spirit. It is one of the cases in which it is very difficult -to tell where the noble stops and the ignoble begins. But of one -thing I am quite sure--the hasty and childish spirit speedily died a -natural death, and the spirit of heroism has survived to bear the -burden imposed by the two." - -"Don't talk of heroism in connection with me." Mona bit her lip. "I -see there is one thing more that I ought to tell you, since I have -told you so much. When I went to Borrowness there was some one there -a great deal more cultured than myself, whose occasional society just -made all the difference in my life, though I did not recognise it at -the time. It is partly because I have not that to look forward to -when I go back that life seems so unbearable." - -"Man or woman?" - -"Man, but he was nice enough to be a woman." - -The words were spoken with absolute simplicity. Clearly, the idea of -love and marriage had not crossed her mind. - -"Did he know your circumstances?" - -"No; he took for granted that Borrowness was my home. I might have -told him; but my cousin had made me promise not to mention the fact -that I was a medical student." - -"And he has gone?" - -"Yes; he may be back for a week or so at Christmas, but I don't know -even that." Mona looked up into the old man's face. "Now," she -said, "you know the whole truth as thoroughly as I know it myself." - -He repaid her look with interest. - -"Honest is not the word for her," he thought. "She is simply -crystalline." - -"If I had the right," he said, "I should ask you to promise me one -thing." - -"Don't say '_If_ had the right,'" said Mona. "Claim it." - -"Promise that you will not again give away your life, or any -appreciable part of it, on mere impulse, without abundant -consideration." - -"I will promise more than that if you like. I will promise not to -commit myself to anything new without first consulting you." - -He could scarcely repress a smile. Evidently she did not foresee the -contingency that had prompted his words. What a simple-hearted child -she was, after all! - -"I decline to accept that promise," he said; "I have abundant faith -in your own judgment, if you only give it a hearing. But when your -mind is made up, you know where to find a sympathetic ear; or if you -should be in doubt or difficulty, and care to have an old man's -advice, you know where to come for it. Make me the promise I asked -for at first; that is all I want." - -Mona looked up again with a smile, and clasped her hands on his knee. -"I promise," she said slowly, "never again to give away my life, or -any appreciable part of it, on mere impulse, without abundant -consideration." - -He smiled down at the bright face, and then stooped to kiss her -forehead. "And now," he said, "let us take the present as we find -it. I suppose no one but yourself can decide whether this duty is -the more or the less binding because it is self-imposed." - -Mona's face expressed much surprise. "Oh," she said, "I have not the -smallest doubt on that score. I must go through with it now that I -have put my hand to the plough." - -"I am glad you think so, though there is something to be said on the -other side as well. Your mind is made up, and that being so, you -don't need me to tell you that you are doubly bound to take the life -bravely and brightly, because you have chosen it yourself. -Fortunately, yours is a nature that will develop in any surroundings. -But I do want to say a word or two about your examination, and the -life you have thrown aside for the time. I know you don't talk about -it, but I think you will allow me to say what I feel. Preaching, you -know, is an old man's privilege." - -"Go on," said Mona, "talk to me. Nobody helps me but you. It does -me good even to hear your voice." - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. - -A NEOPHYTE. - -Once more Mona arrived at Borrowness, and once more Rachel was -awaiting her at the station. - -There was no illusion now about the life before her, no uncertainty, -no vague visions of self-renunciation and of a vocation. All was -flat, plain, shadowless prose. - -"I must e'en dree my weird," she said to herself as the train drew -into the station; but a bright face smiled at Rachel from the -carriage-window, a light step sprang on to the platform, and a -cheerful voice said-- - -"Well, you see I am all but true to my word; and you have no idea -what a lot of pretty things I have brought with me." - -"Mona," said Rachel mysteriously, as they walked down the road to the -house, "I have a piece of news for you. Who do you think called?" - -"I am afraid I can't guess." - -"Mr Brown!" - -"Did he?" said Mona rather absently. - -"Yes. At first I was that put out at you being away, and I had the -awfullest hurry getting on my best dress; but just as I was showing -him out, who should pass but Mrs Robertson. My word, didn't she -stare! The Browns would never think of calling on her. I told him -you were away visiting friends. I didn't say in London, for fear he -might find out about your meaning to be a doctor." - -"That would be dreadful, would not it?" - -"Yes, but you needn't be afraid. He said something about its being a -nice change for you to come here after teaching, and I never let on -you weren't a teacher, though it was on the tip of my tongue to tell -him what a nice bit of a tocher you had of your own." - -"Pray don't say that to any one," said Mona rather sharply. "I have -no wish to be buzzed round by a lot of raw Lubins in search of -Phyllis with a tocher." - -"Well, my dear, you know you're getting on. It's best to make hay -while the sun shines." - -"True," said Mona cynically; "but when a woman has even four hundred -a year of her own, she has a good long day before her." - -Early in the evening Bill arrived with Mona's boxes, and the two -cousins entered with equal zest upon the work of unpacking them. "My -word!" and "Well, I never!" fell alternately from Rachel's lips as -treasure after treasure came to view. Ten pounds was a great sum of -money, to be sure; but who would have thought that even ten pounds -could buy all this? "You _are_ a born shopkeeper, Mona!" she said, -with genuine admiration. - -Mona laughed. "Shall we advertise in the _Gazette_ that 'Our Miss -Maclean has just returned from a visit to London, and has brought -with her a choice selection of all the novelties of the season'?" she -said; but she withdrew the suggestion hastily, when she saw that -Rachel was disposed to take it seriously. - -"And now," she went on, "there is one thing more, not for the shop -but for you;" and from shrouding sheets of tissue-paper, she unfolded -a quiet, handsome fur-lined cloak. - -"Oh, my goodness!" Rachel had never seen anything so magnificent in -her life, and the tears stood in her eyes as she tried it on. - -"It's your kindness I'm thinking of, my dear, not of the cloak," she -said; "but there isn't the like of it between this and St Rules. -It'll last me all my life." - -Mona kissed her on the forehead, well pleased. - -"And I brought a plain muff and tippet for Sally. She says she -always has a cold in the winter. This is a reward to her for -spending some of her wages on winter flannels, sorely against her -will." - -"Dear me! She will be set up. There will be no keeping her away -from Bible Class and Prayer Meeting now! It is nice having you back, -Mona. I can't tell you how many folk have been asking for you in the -shop; there's twice as much custom since you came. Miss Moir -wouldn't buy a hat till you came back to help her to choose it; and -Polly Baines from the Towers brought in some patterns of cloth to ask -your advice about a dress." - -"Did she? How sweet of her! I hope you told her to call again. Has -the Colonel's Jenny been in?" - -"Oh no, it's very seldom she gets this length. Kirkstoun's nearer, -and there's better shops." - -"She told me there's no one to write her letters for her, since -Maggie went away, and I promised to go out there before long and act -the part of scribe. It was quite a weight on my mind while I was in -London, but I will go as soon as I get these things arranged in the -shop. Has the Colonel gone yet?" - -"No; I understand he goes to his sister's to-morrow." - -Most of Jenny's acquaintances gladly seized the opportunity to call -on her when her master was away from home. The Colonel had the -reputation of being the most outrageously eccentric man in the whole -country-side, and it required courage of no common order to risk an -accidental encounter with him. He might chance, of course, to be in -an extremely affable humour, but it was impossible to make sure of -this beforehand; and one thing was quite certain, that the natural -frankness of his intercourse with his fellow-men was not likely to be -modified by any sense of tact, or even of common decency. What he -thought he said, and he often delighted in saying something worse -than his deliberate thought. Not many years before, his family had -owned the whole of the estate on which he was now content to rent a -pretty cottage, standing some miles from the sea, in a few acres of -pine-wood. Here he lived for a great part of the year, alone with -his quaint old housekeeper Jenny, taking no part in the social life -of the neighbourhood, but calling on whom he chose, when he chose, -regardless of all etiquette in the matter. Strange tales were told -of him--tales to which Jenny listened in sphinx-like silence, never -giving wing to a bit of gossip by so much as an "Ay" or "Nay." She -had grown thoroughly accustomed to the old man's ways, and it seemed -to be nothing to her if his language was as strong as his potions. - -"Have a glass of whisky and water, Colonel?" Mrs Hamilton had asked -one cold morning, when he dropped into her house soon after breakfast. - -"Thank you, madam," he had replied, "I won't trouble you for the -water." - -The clever old lady was a prime favourite with him, the more so as -she considered it the prescriptive right of a soldier of good family -to be as outrageous as he chose. - -He was a kind-hearted man, too, and fond of children, though they -rarely lost their fear of him. He was reported to be "unco near," -but if he met a bright-faced child whom he knew, in his favourite -resort, the post-office, he would say-- - -"Sixpenn'orth of sweets for this young lady, Mr Dalgleish. You may -put in as many more as you like from yourself, but sixpenn'orth will -be from me." - -Mona was somewhat curious to see the old man, as she fancied that in -her childhood she had heard her father speak of him; but her time was -fully occupied in the shop for some days after her return. Rachel -had actually consented to have the old place re-papered and painted, -and when Mona put the finishing touch to her arrangements one -afternoon, no one would have recognised "Miss Simpson's shop." - -Mona clapped her hands in triumph, and feasted her eyes on the work -of reformation. Then she looked at her watch, but it was already -late, and as the Colonel's wood lay three or four miles off, her -visit had to be postponed once more. She was too tired to sketch, so -she took a book and strolled down to Castle Maclean. - -It was a quiet, grey afternoon. The distant hills were blotted out, -but the rocky coast was as grand as ever, and the plash of the waves, -as they broke on the beach beneath her, was sweeter in her ears than -music. - -She was disturbed in her reverie by a step on the rocks, and for a -moment her heart beat quicker. Then she almost laughed at her own -stupidity. And well she might, for the step only heralded the -approach of Matilda Cookson, with her smart hat and luxuriant red -hair. - -"Where ever have you been, Miss Maclean?" she began rather -breathlessly, seating herself on a ledge of rock. "I have been -looking out for a chance of speaking to you for nearly a fortnight." - -Mona's face expressed the surprise she felt. - -"I have been away from home," she said. "What did you want with me?" - -"Away from home! Then you haven't told anybody yet?" - -Mona began to think that one or other of them must be the victim of -delusional insanity. - -"Told anybody--_what?_" - -Matilda frowned. If Miss Maclean had really noticed nothing, it was -a pity she had gone out of her way to broach the subject, but she -could not withdraw from it now. - -"I thought you saw me--that day at St Rules." - -"_Oh!_" said Mona, as the recollection came slowly back to her. "So -I did,--but why do you wish me not to tell any one?" - -Matilda blushed violently at the direct question, and proceeded to -draw designs on the carpet of Castle Maclean with the end of her -umbrella. She had intended to dispose of the matter in a few airy -words; and she felt convinced still that she could have done so in -her own house, or in Miss Simpson's shop, if she had chanced to see -Miss Maclean alone in either place. But Mona looked so serenely and -provokingly at home out here on the rocks, with the half-cut German -book in her delicate white hands, that the whole affair began to -assume a much more serious aspect. - -Mona studied the crimson face attentively. - -It had been her strong instinctive impulse to say, "My dear child, if -you had not reminded me of it I should never have thought of the -matter again," and so to dismiss the subject. But she was restrained -from doing so by a vague recollection of her conversation with Dr -Dudley about these girls. She forgot that she was supposed to be -their social inferior, and remembered only that she was a woman, -responsible in a greater or a less degree for every girl with whom -she came in contact. - -She laid her hand on her visitor's shoulder. - -"You may be quite sure," she said, "that I don't want to get you into -trouble, but I think you had better tell me why you wish me not to -speak of this." - -Mona's touch was mesmeric,--at least Matilda Cookson found it so. In -all her vapid little life she had never experienced anything like the -thrill that passed through her now. She would have confessed -anything at that moment, and perhaps have regretted her frankness -bitterly an hour later; for, after all, confession is only -occasionally of moral value in itself, however priceless it may be in -its results. - -The story was not a particularly novel one, even to Mona's -inexperienced ears. Two years before, all the girls in Miss -Barnett's private school at Kirkstoun had been "in love" with the -drawing-master, who came twice a week from St Rules. His languid -manner and large dark eyes had wrought havoc within the "narrowing -nunnery walls," and when his work at St Rules had increased so much -that he no longer required Miss Barnett's support, he had taken his -departure amid much wailing and lamentation. - -Matilda had gone soon after to a London boarding-school, where she -had forgotten all about him; but a chance meeting at a dance, on her -return, had renewed the old attraction. This first chance meeting -had been followed by a number of others; and when, only a short time -before, Mrs Cookson had suddenly decreed that Matilda was to go to St -Rules once a week for music lessons, the temptation to create a few -more "chance meetings" had proved irresistible. - -Mona was rather at a loss to know what to do with the confession, now -that she had got it. She knew so little of this girl. What were her -gods? Had she any heroes?--any heroines?--any ideals? Was there -anything in her to which one might appeal? Mona was too young -herself to attack the situation with weapons less cumbrous than heavy -artillery. - -"How old are you?" she asked suddenly. - -"Eighteen." - -"And don't you mean to be a fine woman--morally a fine woman, I mean?" - -"Morally a fine woman"--the words, spoken half shyly, half wistfully, -were almost an unknown tongue to Matilda Cookson. Almost, but not -quite. They called up vague visions of evening services, and of -undefined longings for better things,--visions, more distinct, of a -certain "revival," when she had become "hysterical," had stayed to -the "enquiry meeting," and had professed to be "converted." She had -been very happy then for a few weeks, but the happiness had not -lasted long. Those things never did last; they were all pure -excitement, as her father had said at the time. What was the use of -raking up that old story now? - -"I don't see that there was any great harm in my meeting him," she -said doggedly. - -"I am quite sure you did not mean any great harm; but do you know how -men talk about girls who 'give themselves away,' as they call it?" - -Matilda coloured. "I am sure he would not say anything horrid about -me. He is awfully in love." - -"Is he? I don't know much about love; but if he loves you, you -surely want him to respect you. You would not like him to be a worse -man for loving you,--and he must become a worse man, if he has a low -opinion of women." - -"You mean that I am not to meet him any more?" - -"I mean that he cannot possibly respect you, while he knows you meet -him without your mother's knowledge." - -"And suppose I won't promise not to meet him again, what will you do?" - -"I don't consider that I have the smallest right to exact a promise -from you." - -"Then you won't speak of this to any one, whatever happens?" - -Mona smiled. "I am not quite clear that you have any right to exact -a promise from me." - -Matilda could not help joining in the smile. This was good fencing. - -"At any rate, you have not told any one yet?" - -"I have not." - -"Not Miss Simpson?" - -"Not any one; and therefore not Miss Simpson." - -"Well, I must say it was very kind of you." - -"I am afraid I ought not to accept your praise; it never occurred to -me to speak of it." - -"And yet you recognised me?" - -Mona laughed outright--a very friendly laugh. - -"And yet I recognised you." - -Matilda drew the sole of her high-heeled shoe over the ground in -front of her, and began an entirely new design. - -"What do you mean by 'respect,' Miss Maclean? It is such a chilly -word. There is no warmth or colour in it." - -"There is no warmth nor colour in the air, yet air is even more -essential than sunshine." - -There was silence for some minutes. Matilda obliterated the new -design with a little stamp of her foot. - -"Long ago, when I was a girl, I began to believe in self-denial, and -high ideals, and all that sort of thing. But you can't work it in -with your everyday life. It is all a dream." - -"A dream!" said Mona softly,-- - - "'No, no, by all the martyrs and the dear dead Christ!' - -Everything else is a dream. That is real. That was your chance in -life. You should have clung to it with both hands. Your soul is -drowning now for want of it, in a sea of nothingness." - -The revival preacher himself could scarcely have spoken more -strongly, and Matilda felt a slight pleasurable return of the old -excitement. She did not show it, however. - -"It is easy to talk," she said, "but you don't know what it is to be -the richest people in a place like this. Pa and Ma won't let anybody -speak to us. I believe it will end in our never getting married at -all. We shall be out of the wood before they find their straight -stick." - -"My dear child, is marriage the end of life? And even if it is, -surely the girls who make good wives are those who are content to be -the life and brightness of their home circle, and who are not -constantly straining their eyes in search of the knight-errant who is -to deliver them from Giant Irksome." - -In the course of her life in London, Mona had met many girls who -chafed at home duties, and longed for a 'sphere,' but a girl who -longed for a husband, _quâ_ husband, was so surprising an instance of -atavism as to be practically a new type. - -Matilda sighed. "You don't know what our home life is," she said. -"We pay calls, and people call on us; we go for proper walks along -the highroad; we play on the piano and we do crewel-work; we get -novels from the library,--and that is all. Just the same thing over -and over again." - -"And don't you care enough for books and music to find scope in them?" - -Matilda shook her head. "Can you read German!" she asked abruptly, -looking at Mona's book. - -"Yes; do you?" - -"No; and I never in my life met any one who could, unless perhaps my -German teachers. I took it for three years at school, but I should -not know one word in ten now. I wish I did! We had a nice row, I -can tell you, when I first came home from school, and Father brought -in a German letter from the office one day. He actually expected me -to be able to read it!" - -"You could easily learn. It only wants a little dogged -resolution,--enough to worry steadily through one German story-book -with a dictionary. After that the neck of the difficulty is broken." - -Matilda made a grimace. "I have only got _Bilderbuch_," she said, -"and I know the English of that by heart, from hearing the girls go -over and over it in class. Start me off, and I can go on; but I can -scarcely tell you which word stands for moon." - -She was almost startled at her own frankness. She had never talked -like this to any one before. - -"You know I am not going to take you at your own valuation. Let me -judge for myself," and Mona opened her book at the first page and -held it out. - -Matilda put her hands up to her face. "_Don't!_" she said. "I -couldn't bear to let you see how little I know. But I will try to -learn. I will begin _Bilderbuch_ this very night, though I hate it -as much as I do _Lycidas_ and _Hamlet_, and everything else I read at -school." - -Mona shivered involuntarily. "Don't read anything you are sick of," -she said. "If you like, I will lend you an interesting story that -will tempt you on in spite of yourself." - -"Thanks awfully. You are very kind." - -"I shall be very glad to help you if you get into a real difficulty." -Mona paused. "As I said before, I have no right to exact a promise -from you--but I can't tell you how much more highly I should think of -you if you did worry on to the end." - -The conclusion of this sentence took Matilda by surprise. She had -imagined that Mona was going back to the subject of the -drawing-master, but Mona seemed to have forgotten the existence of -everything but German books. - -"And may I come here sometimes in the afternoon, and talk to you? I -often see you go down to the beach." - -"I never know beforehand when I shall be able to come; but, if you -care to take the chance, I shall always be glad to see you." - -"The new Adam will," she said to herself, with a half-amused, -half-rueful smile, when her visitor had gone, "but the old Adam will -have a tussle for his rights." - -A moment later Matilda reappeared, shy and awkward. - -"Would you mind telling me again that thing you said about the -martyrs?" - -Mona smiled. "If you wait a moment, I will write it down for you;" -and, tearing a leaf from her note-book, she wrote out the whole -verse-- - - "No, no, by all the martyrs and the dear dead Christ; - By the long bright roll of those whom joy enticed - With her myriad blandishments, but could not win, - Who would fight for victory, but would not sin." - - -Matilda read it through, and then carefully folded the paper. In -doing so she noticed some writing on the back, and read aloud-- - -"Lady Munro, Poste Restante, Cannes." "Who is Lady Munro?" she -asked, with unintentional rudeness. - -"She is my aunt. I did not know her address was written there." -Mona tore off the name, and handed back the slip of paper. - -"Lady Munro your aunt, and you live with Miss Simpson?" - -"Why not? Miss Simpson is my cousin." - -"Miss Maclean, if I had a 'Lady' for my aunt, everybody should know -it. I don't believe I should even travel in a railway carriage, -without the other passengers finding it out." - -Mona laughed. "I have already told you that I don't mean to take you -at your own valuation. In point of fact, I had much rather the -people here knew nothing about Lady Munro. I should not like others -to draw comparisons between her and Miss Simpson." - -"I beg your pardon. I did not mean----" - -"Oh, I know you did not mean any harm. It was my own stupidity; but, -as I say, I should not like others to talk of it. _Auf Wiedersehen!_" - -Alone once more, Mona clasped her hands behind her head, and looked -out over the sea. - -"Well, playfellow," she said, "have I done good or harm? At the -present moment, as she walks home, she does not know whether to -venerate or to detest me. It is an even chance which way the scale -will turn. And is it all an affair of infinite importance, or does -it not matter one whit?" - -This estimate of Matilda's state of mind was a shrewd one, except for -one neglected item. Now that the moment of impulse was over, the -balance might have been even: but Lady Munro's name had turned the -scale, and Matilda 'venerated' her new friend. Mona's strong and -vivid personality would have made any one forget in her presence that -she was 'only a shop-girl'; but no power on earth could prevent the -recollection from returning--perhaps with renewed force--when her -immediate influence was withdrawn. If a man of culture like Dr -Dudley could not wholly ignore the fact of her social inferiority, -how much less was it possible to an empty little soul like Matilda -Cookson? for she was one of those people to whose moral and spiritual -progress an earthly crutch is absolutely essential. She never forgot -that conversation at Castle Maclean; but the two things that in after -years stood out most clearly in her memory were the quotation about -the martyrs, and Mona's relationship to Lady Munro. And surely this -is not so strange? Do not even the best of us stand with one foot on -the eternal rock, and the other on the shifting sands of time? - -"How odd that she should be struck by that quotation!" mused Mona. -"I wonder what Dr Dudley would say if he knew that the notes of the -Pilgrims' Chorus, rising clear, steady, and unvarying above all the -noises of the world, appealed even to the stupid little ears of -Matilda Cookson. If the mother is no more than he says, there must -be some good stuff in the father. _Ex nihilo, nihil fit_." - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. - -THE COLONEL'S YARN. - -The next morning brought Mona a budget of letters on the subject of -Lucy's visit to the Riviera. Lady Munro had risen to the occasion -magnificently. "If your friend is in the least like you," she wrote, -"I shall be only too glad to have her as a companion for Evelyn. I -have written to ask her to be my guest for a month, and the sooner -she comes the better." - -"I have only known you for a few years," wrote Lucy, "and I seem to -have grown tired of saying that I don't know how to thank you. It -will be nuts for me to go to Cannes, without feeling that my father -is living on hasty-pudding at home; and it will be a great thing to -be with people like the Munros; but if they expect that I am going to -live up to your level, I shall simply give up the ghost at once. I -have written to assure them that I am an utter and unmitigated fraud; -but do you tell them the same, in case there should be bloodshed on -my arrival. - -"As for your dear letter and enclosure, I handed them straight over -to Father, and asked him what I was to do. He read the letter twice -through carefully, and then gave me back--the bank-note only! 'Keep -it,' he said briefly; and I fancied--I say I _fancied_--that there -was a suspicious dimness about his eyes. You have indeed made -straight tracks for the Pater's heart, Mistress Mona, if he allows -his daughter to accept twenty pounds from you. - -"Allowing for all the expenses of the journey, I find I can afford -two gowns and a hat, and much anxious thought the selection has given -me, I assure you. One thing I have absolutely settled on,--a pale -sea-green Liberty silk, with suggestions of foam; and when I decided -on that, I came simultaneously to another decision, that life is -worth living after all. - -"I only wish I felt perfectly sure that you could afford it, darling. -You told me you were getting nothing new for yourself this winter, -&c., &c." - -Finally, there was a little note from Mr Reynolds to his "elder -daughter,"--a note in no way remarkable for originality, yet full of -that personal, life-giving influence which is worth a thousand -brilliant aphorisms. - -Mona was very busy in the shop that morning, but in her spare minutes -she contrived to write a letter to Lucy. - -"I do not wish to put you in an awkward position," she wrote, "but I -think you have sufficient ingenuity and resource to keep me out of -difficulties also. You know that when I promised to go to my cousin, -I had not even seen the Munros. I met them immediately afterwards: -and our intimacy has ripened so rapidly that I should not now think -it right to take an important step in life without at least letting -them know. I mean to tell them ultimately about my winter in -Borrowness; but nothing they could say would alter my opinion of my -obligation to remain here, and I think I am justified in wishing to -avoid useless friction in the meantime. You can imagine what the -situation would be, if Sir Douglas were to appear in the shop some -fine morning, and demand my instant return to civilised life. He is -quite capable of doing it, and I am very anxious if possible to avoid -such a clumsy _dénouement_. You will see at a glance how inartistic -it would be. - -"You will tell me that it is absolutely impossible to conceal the -truth, but I do not think you will find it so when you get to Cannes. -It is very doubtful whether you will see Sir Douglas at all,--he is -looking forward so much to the pheasant-shooting; and Lady Munro is -not the person to ask questions except in a general sort of way. She -exists far too gracefully for that. You can honestly say, if -needful, that I am very busy, but that I have not yet returned to -town; I don't think you will find it necessary to say even that. - -"But show me up a thousand times over rather than sail nearer the -wind than your conscience approves. I merely state the position, and -I know you will appreciate my difficulty quite as fully as I do -myself. - -"Please don't have the smallest scruple about accepting the money. -When I told you I was 'on the rocks,' I did not mean it in the sense -in which a young man about town would use the expression. My debts -did not amount to more than twenty or thirty pounds. All things in -life are relative, you see. I spent nothing in Norway, and my cousin -will not hear of my paying for my board here. She is kind enough to -say that, even pecuniarily, she is richer since I came. Of course I -do not want any more gowns; I go nowhere, and see no one. Doris -tells me she is studying medicine--by proxy. I am glad to think that -I shall be shining in society this winter--also by proxy. I hope I -may have the good fortune to see you in your new _rôle_ of mermaid -before the run is over. I am sure it will be a very successful one. - -"Please give your father my most dutiful love, and tell him that I -will answer his kind note in a day or two." - -The writing of this letter, together with a few grateful lines to -Lady Munro, occupied all Mona's spare time before dinner; and as soon -as the unbeautiful meal was over, she set off at last to the -Colonel's wood. - -"If the scale has turned against me, Matilda Cookson will not go to -Castle Maclean," she reflected. "If it has turned in my favour, it -will do her no harm to look for me in vain." - -She had to walk in to Kirkstoun, and then strike up country for two -or three miles; but before she had proceeded far on her way, she met -Mr Brown. - -"So you have got back," he said, looking very shy and uncomfortable. - -"Yes, I have been back for some days." - -"How is Miss Simpson?" - -"She is very well, thank you." - -"Were you going anywhere in particular?" - -"I am going to Barntoun Wood, but don't let me take you out of your -way," she said. - -He did not answer, but walked by her side into town. - -"Do you take ill with the smell of tobacco?" he asked, taking his -pipe from his pocket. - -"Not in the least." - -"Have you been doing any more botanising?" - -"I have not had time. Thank you so much for sending me that box of -treasures. Some of them interested me greatly." - -"I thought you would like them. Will you be able to come again some -day, and hunt for yourself?" - -"Is not it getting too late in the year?" - -"Not for the mosses and lichens and sea-weeds. Have you gone into -them at all?" - -"Not a bit. They must be extremely interesting, but very difficult." - -"Oh, you get hold of the thread in time, especially with the mosses. -The Algæ and Fungi are a tremendous subject of course. One can only -work a bit on the borders of it. But if you care to come for a few -more rambles, I could soon show you the commonest things we have, and -a few of the rarer ones." - -"I should like it immensely. Could your sister come with us?" - -"Oh yes; she was not really tired that day. It was just that her -boot was too tight. I had a laugh at her when we got home." - -"Well, I suppose we part company here. I am going out to Colonel -Lawrence's." - -"I am not doing anything particular this afternoon. I could walk out -with you." - -The words were commonplace, but something in his manner startled Mona. - -As regarded the gift of utterance, Mr Brown was not many degrees -removed from the dumb creation. He could discuss a cashmere with the -traveller, a right-of-way with a fellow-townsman, or a bit of local -gossip with his sisters. He could talk botany to a clever young -woman, and he could blurt out in honest English the fact that he -wanted her to be his wife; but of love-making as an art, of the -delicate crescendo by which women are won in spite of themselves, he -was as ignorant as a child. It was natural and easy to his mind to -make one giant stride from botany to marriage; and it never occurred -to him that the woman might require a few of those stepping-stones -which developing passion usually creates for the lover, and which -_savoir vivre_ teaches the man of the world to place deliberately. - -"Thank you very much," said Mona; "but I could not think of troubling -you. I am well used to going about alone." She held out her hand, -but, as he did not immediately take it, she bowed cordially, and left -him helplessly watching her retreating figure. - -She passed the museum, and, leaving the town behind her, walked out -among the fields. Most of the corn had been gathered in, but a few -stooks still remained here and there to break the monotony of the -stubble-grown acres. Trees in that district were so rare that one -scraggy sycamore by the roadside had been christened Balmarnie Tree, -and served as an important landmark; while, for many miles around, -the Colonel's tiny wood stood out as a feature of the landscape, the -little freestone cottage peeping from beneath the dark shade of the -pines like a rabbit from its burrow. - -"It seems to me, my dear," she said to herself, "that you are rather -a goose. Are you only seventeen, may I ask, that you should be -alarmed by a conversation from Ollendorf? But all the same, if Miss -Brown's shoe pinches her next time, my shoe shall pinch me too." - -She passed Wester and Easter Barntoun, the two large farms that -constituted the greater part of the estate: and then a quarter of an -hour's walk brought her to Barntoun Wood. A few small cottar-houses -stood within a stone's-throw of the gate, but the place seemed -curiously lonely to be the chosen home of an old man of the world. -Yet there could be no doubt that it was a gentleman's residence. A -well-trained beech hedge surmounted the low stone dyke, from whose -moss-grown crannies sprang a forest of polypody, and a few graceful -fronds of wild maidenhair. The carriage-drive was smooth and well -kept, but, on leaving it, one plunged at once into the shade of the -trees, with generations of pine-needles under foot, and the weird -cooing of wood-pigeons above one's head. Mona longed to explore -those mysterious recesses, but there was no time for that to-day. -She walked straight up to the house and knocked. - -She was met in the doorway by the quaintest old man she had ever -beheld. His clean-shaven face was a network of wrinkles, and he wore -a nut-brown wig surmounted by a red night-cap. - -"Who are you?" he asked abruptly. - -"I am Mona Maclean." Some curious impulse prompted her to add, for -the first time during her stay at Borrowness, not "Miss Simpson's -cousin," but, "Gordon Maclean's daughter." - -He seized her almost roughly by the shoulder, and turned her face to -the light. - -"By Gad, so you are!" he exclaimed, "though you are not so bonny as -your mother was before you. But come in, come in; and tell me all -about it." - -He opened the door of an old-fashioned, smoke-seasoned parlour, and -Mona went in. - -"But I did not mean to disturb you," she said. "I came to see Jenny." - -"Tut, tut, sit down, sit down! Jenny, damn ye, come and put a spunk -to this fire. There's a young lady here." - -The old woman came in, bobbing to Mona as she passed. She was not at -all surprised to see Miss Simpson's assistant in her master's -parlour. One of Jenny's chief qualifications for her post of -housekeeper was the fact that she had long ceased to speculate about -the Colonel's vagaries. - -"I wonder what I have got that I can offer you?" said the old man -meditatively. He unlocked a small sideboard, produced from it some -rather mouldy sweet biscuits, and poured out a glass of wine. - -"That's lady's wine," he said, "so you need not be afraid of it. -It's not what I drink myself." He laughed, and, helping himself to a -small glass of whisky, he looked across at his visitor. - -"Here's to old times and Gordon Maclean!" he said, "the finest fellow -that ever kept open house at Rangoon," and he tossed off the whisky -at a gulp. - -Mona drank the toast, and smiled through a sudden and blinding mist -of tears. It was meat and drink to her to hear her father's praise -even on lips like these. - -"Come, come, don't fret," said the Colonel kindly. "He was a fine -fellow, as I say, but I think he knew the way to heaven all the same." - -"I am quite sure of that." - -"That's right, that's right. Where are you stopping--the -Towers?--Balnamora?" - -"No, no; I am staying at Borrowness, with my cousin Miss Simpson." - -He stared at her blankly. - -"Miss Simpson?" he said, "Rachel Simpson!" His jaw dropped, and, -throwing back his head on the top of his chair, he burst into an -unpleasant laugh. - -"Your father was a rich man, though he died young," he said, -recovering himself suddenly. "He must have left you a tidy little -portion." - -"So he did," said Mona. "Things were sadly mismanaged after his -death; but in the end I got what was quite sufficient for me." - -"You have had a good education?--learned to sing, and parley-voo, -and"--he ran his fingers awkwardly up and down the table--"this sort -of thing?" - -Mona laughed. "Yes," she said, "I have learned all that." - -He puffed away at his pipe for a time in silence. - -"Why are you not with the Munros?" he said abruptly. "With Munro's -eye for a pretty young woman, too!" - -"The Munros took me to Norway this summer. Sir Douglas is kindness -itself, and so is Lady Munro; but Miss Simpson is my cousin." - -He laughed again, the same discordant laugh. - -"Drink your wine, Miss Maclean," he said, "and I will spin you a bit -of a yarn. Maybe some of it will be news to you. - -"A great many years before you were bora, my grandfather was the -laird of all this property. Your father's people, the Macleans, were -tenants on the estate--respectable, well-to-do tenants, in a small -way. Your grandfather was a remarkable man, cut out for success from -his cradle,--always at the top of his class at school, don't you -know? always keen to know what made the wheels go round, always ready -to touch his hat to the ladies. His only brother, Sandy, was a -ne'er-do-weel who never came to anything, but your grandfather soon -became a rich man. There were two sisters, and each took after one -of the brothers, so to say. Margaret was a fine, strapping, -fair-spoken wench; Ann was a poor fusionless thing, who married the -first man that asked her. Margaret never married. The best grain -often stands. - -"Your grandfather had, let me see, three children--two boys and a -girl. A boy and girl died. It was a sad story--you'll know all -about it?--fine healthy children, too! But your father was a chip of -the old block. He had a first-rate education, and then he went to -India and made a great name for himself. I never knew a man like -him. People opened their hearts and homes to him wherever he went. -Not a door that was closed to him, and yet he never forgot an old -friend. Well, the first time he came home, like the gentleman he -was, he must needs look up his people here. Most of them were dead. -Sandy had gone to Australia; there were only Ann's children, Rachel -Simpson and her sister Jane. Jane had married a small shopkeeper, -and had a boy and girl of her own. They were very poor, so he made -each of them a yearly allowance. - -"Well, he was visiting with his young wife at a house not a hundred -miles from here, and the two of them were the life of the party. I -know all about it, because I came to stay at the house myself a day -or two before they left. After they had gone--_after they had gone_, -mark ye!--who should come to call at the house in all their war-paint -but Rachel Simpson and her sister! And, by Jove! they were a -queerish couple. Rachel had notions of her own about dress in those -days, I can tell you." - -Mona blushed crimson. No one who knew Rachel could have much doubt -that the story was true. - -"They announced themselves as 'Gordon Maclean's cousins,' and of -course they were civilly received; but the footman got orders that if -they called again his mistress was not at home. I had a pretty good -inkling that Maclean was providing them with funds, so I thought it -only right to tip him a wink. He took it amazingly well--he was a -good fellow!--but I believe he gave his fair cousins pretty plainly -to understand that, though he was willing to share his money, his -friends were his own till he chose to introduce them. I never heard -of their playing that little game again, for, after all, the funds -were of even more importance than the high connections. But they -never forgave your father. They always thought that he might have -pulled them up the ladder with him--ha, ha, ha! a pretty fair weight -they would have been!" - -Mona did not laugh. Nothing could make the least difference now, but -she did wish she had heard this story before. - -"You did not know old Simpy in your father's time?" - -Mona hesitated. She was half inclined to resent the insulting -diminutive, but what was the use? The Colonel took liberties with -every one, and perhaps he could tell her more. - -"No," she said. "I vaguely knew that I had a cousin, but I never -thought much about it till she wrote to me a few years ago." - -"The deuce she did! To borrow money, I'll be bound. That nephew of -hers was a regular sink for money, till he and his mother died. But -Simpy should be quite a millionaire now. She has the income your -father settled on her. and a little money besides--let alone the -shop! She is not sponging on you now, I hope?" - -"Oh no," said Mona warmly. "On the contrary, I am staying here as -her guest." - -He burst out laughing again. - -"Rather you than me!" he said. "But well you may; it is all your -father's money, first or last." - -Mona rose to go. - -"I am glad you have told me all this," she said, "though it is rather -depressing." - -"Depressing? Hoot, havers! It will teach you how to treat Rachel -Simpson for the future. I have a likeness of your father and mother -here. Would you like to see it?" - -"Very much indeed. It may be one I have never seen." - -He took up a shabby old album, and turned his back while he found the -place; but a page must have slipped over by accident in his shaky old -hands, for when Mona looked she beheld only a vision of long white -legs and flying gauzy petticoats. - -"Damnation!" shouted the old man, and snatching the book away, he -hastily corrected his mistake. - -It was all right this time. No living faces were so familiar to Mona -as were those of the earnest, capable man, and the beautiful, queenly -woman in the photograph. - -"I have never seen this before," she said. "It is very good." - -"I'll leave it to you in my will, eh? It will be worth as much as -most of my legacies." - -"If everything you leave is as much valued as that will be, your -legatees will have much to be grateful for." - -The old face furrowed up into a broad smile. "Well," he said, "I -start for London to-night, but I hope we may meet again. I'll send -Jenny in to see you. We are good comrades, she and I--we never -enquire into each other's affairs." - -Mona found it rather difficult to give her full attention to Jenny's -letters, interesting and characteristic as these were. One was -addressed to a sailor brother; another to Maggie, and the latter was -not at all unlike a quaint paraphrase of Polonius's advice to his -son. The poor woman's mind was apparently ill at ease about the -child of her old age. - -"I suld hae keepit her by me," she said. "She's ower young tae fend -for hersel'; but it was a guid place, an' she was that keen tae gang, -puir bit thing!" - -"I do think it would be well if you could get her a good place -somewhere in the neighbourhood," said Mona; "and I should not think -it would be difficult." - -"Ay, but she maun bide her year. It's an ill beginning tae shift ere -the twel'month's oot. We maun e'en thole." - -But Jenny forgot her forebodings in her admiration of Mona's -handwriting. - -"I can maist read it mysel'," she said. "Ye write lood oot, like the -print i' the big Bible." - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. - -"YONDER SHINING LIGHT." - -Miss Simpson's shop had undeniably become one of the lions of -Borrowness. An advertisement in the _Kirkstoun Gazette_ would have -been absolutely useless, compared with the rumour which ran from -mouth to mouth, and which brought women of all classes to see the -novelties for themselves. Rachel had to double and treble her orders -when the traveller came round, and it soon became quite impossible -for her and Mona to leave the shop at the same time. - -"I find it a little difficult to do as you asked me about reading," -Mona wrote to Mr Reynolds, "for the shop-keeping really has become -hard work, calling for all one's resources; and my cousin naturally -expects me to be sociable for a couple of hours in the evening. I -keenly appreciate, however, what you said about beginning the work -leisurely, and leaving a minimum of strain to the end; so I make it a -positive duty to read for one hour a-day, and, as a general rule, the -hour runs on to two. When my six months here are over, I will take a -short holiday, and then put myself into a regular tread-mill till -July; and I will do my very best to pass. What you said to me that -night is perfectly true. I have read too much _con amore_, going as -far afield as my fancy led me, and neglecting the old principle of -'line upon line; precept upon precept.' It certainly has been my -experience, that _wisdom_ comes, but _knowledge_ lingers; and I mean -this time, as a Glasgow professor says, to stick to a policy of -limited liability, and learn nothing that will not pay. That is what -the examiners want, and they shall not have to tell me so a third -time! - -"Forgive this bit of pique. It is an expiring flame. I don't really -cherish one atom of resentment in my heart. I admit that I was -honestly beaten by the rules of the game; and, from the point of view -of the vanquished, there is nothing more to be said. I will try to -leave no more loose ends in my life, if I can help it, and I assure -you my resolution in this respect is being subjected to a somewhat -stern test here. - -"It was very wise and very kind of you to make me talk the whole -subject out. I should not be so hard and priggish as I am, if, like -Lucy, I had had a father." - - -One morning when Rachel was out, three elderly ladies entered the -shop. They were short, thick-set, sedate, unobtrusively dignified, -and at a first glance they all looked exactly alike. At a second -glance, however, certain minor points of difference became apparent. -One had black cannon-curls on each side of her face; one wore an -eyeglass; and the third was easily differentiated by the total -absence of all means of differentiation. - -"I hear Miss Simpson has got a remarkable collection of new things," -said the one with the curls. - -"Not at all remarkable, I fear," said Mona, smiling. "But she has -got a number of fresh things from London. If you will sit down, I -will show you anything you care to see." - -If Mona was brusque and cavalier in her treatment of her -fellow-students, nothing could exceed the gentle respect with which -she instinctively treated women older than herself. She had that -inborn sense of the privileges and rights of age which is perhaps the -rarest and most lovable attribute of youth. - -The ladies remained for half an hour, and they spent -three-and-sixpence. - -"I think I have seen you sometimes at the Baptist Chapel," said the -one with the eyeglass, as they rose to go. - -"Yes, I have been there sometimes with my cousin." - -"Have you been baptised?" asked the one who had no distinguishing -feature. - -"Oh yes!" said Mona, rather taken aback by the question. - -"I notice you don't stay to the Communion," said the one with the -curls. - -"I was baptised in the Church of England." - -"Oh!" said all three at once, in a tone that made Mona feel herself -an utter fraud. - -"You must have a talk with Mr Stuart," said the one with the -eyeglass, recovering herself first. Every one agreed that she was -the "cliverest" of the sisters. - -"Yes," said the others, catching eagerly at a method of reconciling -Christian charity and fidelity to principle; and, with enquiries -after Miss Simpson, they left the shop. - -"It would be the Miss Bonthrons," said Rachel, when she heard Mona's -description of the new customers. "They are a great deal looked up -to in Kirkstoun. Their father was senior deacon in the Baptist -Chapel for years, and the pulpit was all draped with black when he -died. He has left them very well provided for, too." - - -Meanwhile Matilda Cookson had found an object in life, and was happy. -It was well for her that her enthusiastic devotion to Mona was -weighted by the ballast of conscientious work, or her last state -might have been worse than her first. As it was, she laboured hard, -and when her family enquired the cause of her sudden fit of -diligence, she took a pride in looking severely mysterious. Miss -Maclean was a princess in disguise, and she was the sole custodian of -the great secret. The constant effort to refrain from confiding it, -even to her sister, was, in its way, as valuable a bit of moral -discipline as was the laborious translation of the _Geier-Wally_. - -"I would have come sooner," she said one day to Mona at Castle -Maclean, "but my people can't see why I want to walk on the beach at -this time of year, and it is so difficult to get rid of Clarinda. Of -course if they knew you were Lady Munro's niece they would be only -too glad that I should meet you anywhere, but I have not breathed a -syllable of that." - -She spoke with pardonable pride. She had not yet learned to spare -Mona's feelings, and the latter sighed involuntarily. - -"Thank you," she said; "but I don't want you to meet me 'on the sly.'" - -"I thought of that. Mother would not be at all pleased at my getting -to know you as things are, or as she thinks they are; but if there -was a row, and she found out that you were Lady Munro's niece, she -would more than forgive me. You will tell people who you are some -time, won't you?" - -For, after all, in what respect is a princess in disguise better than -other people, if the story has no _dénouement_? - -"I wish very much," said Mona patiently, "that you would try to see -the matter from my point of view. I have taken no pains to prevent -people from finding out who my other relatives are; but, as a matter -of personal taste, I prefer that they should not talk of it. -Besides, it is just as unpleasant to me to be labelled Lady Munro's -niece, as to be labelled Miss Simpson's cousin. People who really -care for me, care for myself." - -Matilda had been straining her eyes in the direction of "yonder -shining light," and she certainly thought she saw it. The difficulty -was to keep it in view when she was talking to her mother or Clarinda. - -"You know I care for you yourself," she said. "I don't think I ever -cared for anybody so much in my life." - -"Hush-sh! It is not wise to talk like that when you know me so -little. If the scale turns, you will hate me all the more because -you speak so strongly now." - -"_Hate you!_" laughed Matilda, with the sublime confidence of -eighteen. - -"How goes _Geier-Wally_?" - -Mona had a decided gift for teaching, and the next half-hour passed -pleasantly for both of them. Then, in a very shamefaced way, Matilda -drew a letter from her pocket. "I wanted to tell you," she said, "I -have been writing to--to--my friend." - -Her face turned crimson as she spoke. She had met Mona several -times, but this was the first reference either of them had made to -the original subject of debate. - -"Have you?" said Mona quietly. - -"Yes. Would you mind reading the letter? I should like to know if -there is anything I ought to alter." - -Mona read the letter. It was headed by a showy crest and -address-stamp, and it was without exception the most pathetic and the -most ridiculous production she had ever seen. It was very long, and -very sentimental: it made repeated reference to "your passionate -love"; and, to Mona's horror, it wound up with the line about the -martyrs. - -However, it had one saving feature. Between the beginning and the -end, Matilda did contrive to give expression to the conviction that -she had done wrong in meeting her correspondent, and to the -determination that she never would do it again. Compared with this -everything else mattered little. - -"Is that what you would have said?" she asked eagerly, as Mona -finished reading it. - -"It would be valueless if it were," said Mona, smiling. "He wants -your views, not mine. But in quoting that line you are creating for -yourself a lofty tradition that will not always be easy to live up -to. I speak to myself as much as to you, for it was I who set you -the example--for evil or good. You and I burn our boats when we -allow ourselves to repeat a line like that." - -"I want to burn them," said Matilda eagerly, only half understanding -what was in Mona's mind. "I am quite sure you have burned yours. -Then you don't want me to write it over again?" - -"No," said Mona reflectively. "You have said definitely what you -intended to say, and few girls could have done as much under the -circumstances. Moreover, you have said it in your own way, and that -is better than saying it in some one else's way. No, I would not -write it over again." - -"Thanks awfully. I am very glad you think it will do. It is a great -weight off my mind to have it done. I owe a great deal to you, Miss -Maclean." - -"I owe you a great deal," said Mona, colouring. "You have taught me -a lesson against hasty judgment. When you came into the shop to buy -blue ribbon, I certainly did not think you capable of that amount of -moral pluck," and she glanced at the letter on Matilda's lap. - -"What you must have thought of us!" exclaimed Matilda, blushing in -her turn. "Two stuck-up, provincial--cats! Tell me, Miss Maclean, -did Dr Dudley know then--what I know about you?" - -Matilda was progressing. She saw that Mona winced at the unceasing -reference to Lady Munro, so she attempted a periphrasis. - -"He does not know now." - -"Then I shall like Dr Dudley as long as I live. He is sarcastic and -horrid, but he must be one of the people you were talking of the -other day who see the invisible." - -For Mona had got into the way of giving utterance to her thoughts -almost without reserve when Matilda Cookson was with her. It was -pleasant to see the look of rapt attention on the girl's face, and -Mona did not realise--or realising, she did not care--how little her -companion understood. Mona's talk ought to have been worth listening -to in those days when her life was so destitute of companionship; but -the harvest of her thought was carried away by the winds and the -waves, and only a few stray gleanings fell into the eager -outstretched hands of Matilda Cookson. Yet the girl was developing, -as plants develop on a warm damp day in spring, and Mona was -unspeakably grateful to her. The Colonel's story had not interfered -with Mona's determination to "take up each day with both hands, and -live it with all her might;" but it certainly had not made it any -easier to see the ideal in the actual. Here, however, was one little -human soul who clung to her, depended on her, learnt from her; and it -would have been difficult to determine on which side the balance of -benefit really lay. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. - -MR STUART'S TROUBLES. - -Very slowly the days and weeks went by, but at last the end of -November drew near. The coast was bleak and cold now, and it was -only on exceptionally fine days that Mona could spend a quiet hour at -Castle Maclean. When she escaped from the shop she went for a -scramble along the coast; and when physical exercise was insufficient -to drive away the cobwebs, she walked out to the Colonel's wood to -see old Jenny, or, farther still, beyond Kilwinnie to have a chat -with Auntie Bell. - -With the latter she struck up quite a cordial friendship, and she had -the doubtful satisfaction of hearing the Colonel's yarn corroborated -in Auntie Bell's quaint language. - -"Rachel's queer, ye ken," said Auntie Bell, as Mona took her farewell -in the exquisitely kept, old-fashioned garden. "She's a' for the -kirk and the prayer-meetin'; an' yet she's aye that keen tae -forgather wi' her betters." - -"She wants to make the best of both worlds, I suppose," said Mona. -"Poor soul! I am afraid she has not succeeded very well as regards -this one." - -"Na," said Auntie Bell tersely. "An' between wersels, I hae ma doots -o' the ither." - -Mona laughed. It was curious how she and Auntie Bell touched hands -across all the oceans that lay between them. - -"Are ye muckle ta'en up wi' this 'gran' bazaar,' as they ca' it!" - -"Not a bit," said Mona; "I hate bazaars." - -"Eh, but we're o' ae mind there!" and Auntie Bell clapped her hands -with sufficient emphasis to start an upward rush of crows from the -field beyond the hedge. - -Nearly half the county at this time was talking of one thing and of -only one--the approaching bazaar at Kirkstoun. It was almost -incredible to Mona that so trifling an event should cause so much -excitement; but bazaars, like earthquakes, vary in importance -according to the part of the world in which they occur. - -And this was no sale for church or chapel, at which the men could -pretend to sneer, and which a good burgher might consistently refuse -to attend; it was essentially the bazaar of the stronger sex--except -in so far as the weaker sex did all the work in connection with; it -was for no less an object than the new town hall. - -For many years the inhabitants of Kirkstoun had felt that their town -hall was a petty, insignificant building, out of all proportion to -the size and importance of the burgh; and after much deliberation -they had decided on the bold step of erecting a new building, and of -looking mainly to Providence--spelt with a capital, of course--for -the funds. - -All this, however, was now rapidly becoming a matter of ancient -history; the edifice had been complete for some time; about one-third -of the expense had been defrayed; and, in order that the debt might -be cleared off with a clean sweep, the ladies of the town had "kindly -consented" to hold a bazaar. - -"Man's extremity is woman's opportunity" had been the graceful, if -not original, remark of one of the local bailies; but men are -proverbially ungrateful, and this view of the matter had not been the -only one mooted. - -"Kindly consented, indeed!" one carping spirit had growled. "Pretty -consent any of you would have given if it had not been an opportunity -for dressing yourselves up and having a ploy. Whose pockets is all -the money to come out of first or last? That's what I would like to -know!" - -It is quite needless to remark that the first of these speeches had -been made on the platform, the second in domestic privacy. - -Like wildfire the enthusiasm had spread. All through the summer, -needles had flown in and out; paint-brushes had been flourished -somewhat wildly; cupboards had been ransacked; begging-letters had -been written to friends all over the country, and to every man who, -in the memory of the inhabitants, had left Kirkstoun to make his -fortune "abroad." - -It was very characteristic of "Kirkstoun folk" that not many of these -letters had been written in vain. Kirkstoun men are clannish. -Scatter as they may over the whole known world, they stand together -shoulder to shoulder like a well-trained regiment. - -The bazaar was to be held for three days before Christmas, and was to -be followed by a grand ball. Was not this excitement enough to fill -the imagination of every girl for many miles around? The matrons had -a harder time of it, as they usually have, poor souls! With them lay -the solid responsibility of getting together a sufficiency of -work--and alas for all the jealousies and heart-burnings this -involved!--with them lay the planning of ball-dresses that were to -cost less, and look better, than any one else's; with them lay the -necessity of coaxing and conciliating "your papa." - -Rachel Simpson was not a person of sufficient social importance to be -a stall-holder, or a receiver of goods; and she certainly was not one -of those women who are content to work that others may shine, so Mona -had taken little or no interest in the projected bazaar. - -One morning, however, she received a letter from Doris which roused -her not a little. - -"Kirkstoun is somewhere near Borrowness, is it not?" wrote her -friend. "If so, I shall see you before Christmas. Those friends of -mine at St Rules, to whom you declined an introduction, have a stall -at the Town Hall bazaar, and I am going over to assist them. It is a -kind of debt, for they helped me with my last enterprise of the kind, -but I should contrive to get out of it except for the prospect of -seeing you. - -"You will come to the bazaar, of course: I should think you would be -ready for a little dissipation by that time; and I will promise to be -merciful if you will visit my stall." - -"How delightful!" was Mona's first thought; "how disgusting!" was her -second; "how utterly out of keeping Doris will be with me and my -surroundings!" was her conclusion. "Ponies and pepper-pots do not -harmonise very well with shops and poor relations. But, fortunately, -the situation is not of my making." - -She was still meditating over the letter when Rachel came in looking -flushed and excited. - -"Mona," she said, "I have made a nice little engagement for you. You -know you say you like singing?" - -"Yes," said Mona, with an awful premonition of what might be coming. - -"I met Mr Stuart on the Kirkstoun road just now. He was that put -about! Two of his best speakers for the _soirée_ to-night have -fallen through, he says. Mr Roberts has got the jaundice, and Mr -Dowie has had to go to the funeral of a friend. Mr Stuart said the -whole thing would be a failure, and he was fairly at his wits' end. -You see there's no time to do anything now. He said if he could get -a song or a recitation, or anything, it would do; so of course I told -him you were a fine singer, and I was sure you would give us a song. -You should have seen how his face brightened up. 'Capital!' said he; -'I have noticed her singing in church. Perhaps she would give us "I -know that my Redeemer liveth," or something of that kind?'" - -"My dear cousin," said Mona, at last finding breath to speak, "you -might just as well ask me to give a performance on the trapeze. I -have never sung since I was in Germany. It is one thing to chirp to -you in the firelight, and quite another to stand up on a public -platform and perform. The thing is utterly absurd." - -"Hoots," said Rachel, "they are not so particular. Many's the time I -have seen them pleased with worse singing than yours." - -Then ensued the first 'stand-up fight' between the two. As her -cousin waxed hotter Mona waxed cooler, and finally she ended the -discussion by setting out to speak to Mr Stuart herself. - -She found him in his comfortable study, his slippered feet on the -fender, and a polemico-religious novel in his hand. - -"I am sorry to find my cousin has made an engagement for me this -evening," she said. "It is quite impossible for me to fulfil it." - -"Oh, nonsense!" he said kindly. "It is too late to withdraw now. -Your name is in the programme," and he glanced at the neatly written -paper on his writing-table, as if it had been a legal document at the -least. "My wife is making copies of that for all the speakers. You -can't draw back now." - -"It might be too late to withdraw," said Mona, "if I had ever put -myself forward; but, although my cousin meant to act kindly to every -one concerned, she and I are two distinct people." - -"Come, come! Of course I quite understand your feeling a little shy, -if you are not used to singing in public; but you will be all right -as soon as you begin. I remember my first sermon--what a state I was -in, to be sure! And yet they told me it was a great success." - -"I am very sorry," said Mona. "It is not mere nervousness and -shyness--though there is that too, of course--it is simply that I am -not qualified to do it." - -"We are not very critical. There won't be more than three persons -present who know good singing from bad." - -"Unfortunately I should wish to sing for those three." - -"Ah," he said, with a curl of his lip, "you must have appreciation. -The lesson some of us have got to learn in life, Miss Maclean, is to -do without appreciation." He paused, but her look of sudden interest -was inviting. "One is tempted sometimes to think that one could -speak to so much more purpose in a world where there is some -intellectual life, where people are not wholly blind to the problems -of the day; but to preach Sunday after Sunday to those who have no -eyes to see, no ears to hear, to suppress one's best thoughts----" - -He stopped short. - -"It is a pity surely to do that, unless one is a prophet indeed." - -"Ah," he said, "you cannot understand my position. It is a singular -one, unique perhaps.--You will sing for us to-night?" - -"Mr Stuart," said Mona, struggling against the temptation to speak -sharply, "I should not have left my work to come here in the busiest -time of the day, if I had been prepared to yield in the end. And -indeed why should I? There are plenty of people in the neighbourhood -who sing as well as I; and people who are well known have a right to -claim a little indulgence. I have none. It is not even as if I were -a member of the Chapel." - -"I hope you will be soon." - -"Well," said Mona, rising with a smile, "you have more pressing -claims on your attention at present than my conversion to Baptist -principles. Good morning." - -"Yes," he said reproachfully, "I must go out in this rain, and try to -beat up a substitute for you. A country minister's life is no -sinecure, Miss Maclean; and his work is doubled when he feels the -necessity of keeping pace with the times." He glanced at the book he -had laid down. - -"I suppose so," said Mona, somewhat hypocritically. She longed to -make a very different reply, but she was glad to escape on any terms. -"I wish you all success in your search. You will not go far before -you find a fitter makeshift than I." - -"I doubt it," he said, going with her to the door. "Did any young -lady's education ever yet fit her to do a thing frankly and -gracefully, when she was asked to do it?" - -Mona sighed. "Education is a long word, Mr Stuart," she said. "It -savours more of eternity than of time. 'So many worlds, so much to -do.' If we should meet in another life, perhaps I shall be able to -sing for you then." - -He was absolutely taken aback. What did she mean? Was she really -poaching in his preserves? It was his privilege surely to give the -conversation a religious turn, and he did not see exactly how she had -contrived to do it. However, it was his duty to rise to the -occasion, even although the effort might involve a severe mental -dislocation. - -"I hope we shall sing together there," he said, "with crowns on our -heads, and palms in our hands." - -It was Mona's turn to be taken aback. She had not realised the -effect of her unconventional remarks, when tried by a conventional -standard. - -"_Behüte Gott!_" she said as she made her way home in the driving -rain. "There are worse fates conceivable than annihilation." - -Rachel was severely dignified all day, but she was anxious that Mona -should go with her to the _soirée_, so she was constrained to bury -the hatchet before evening. Mona was much relieved when things had -slipped back into their wonted course. Her life was a fiasco indeed -if she failed to please Rachel Simpson. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI. - -STRADIVARIUS. - -The chapel doors were open, and a bright light streamed across the -gravelled enclosure on to the dreary street beyond. People were -flocking in, talking and laughing, in eager anticipation of pleasures -to come; and a number of hungry-eyed children clung to the railing, -and gazed at the promise of good things within. - -And indeed the promise was a very palpable one. Mona had scarcely -entered the outer door when she was presented with a large -earthenware cup and saucer, a pewter spoon, and a well-filled baker's -bag. - -"What am I to do with these?" she asked, aghast. - -"Take them in with you, of course," said Rachel. "You can look -inside the bag, but you mustn't eat anything till the interval." - -Mona thought she could so far control her curiosity as to await the -appointed time, but her strength of mind was not subjected to this -test. A considerable proportion of the assembled congregation were -children, and most of them were engaged in laying out cakes, sweet -biscuits, apples, pears, figs, almonds, and raisins, in a tempting -row on the book-board, somewhat to the detriment of the subjacent -hymn-books. - -"They ordered three hundred bags at threepence each," said Rachel, in -a loud whisper. "It's wonderful how much you get for the money; and -they say Mr Philip makes a pretty profit out of it too. I suppose -it's the number makes it pay. The cake's plain, to be sure; I always -think it would be better if it were richer, and less of it. But -there's the children to think of, of course." - -At this moment a loud report echoed through the church. Mona -started, and had vague thoughts of gunpowder plots, but the explosion -was only the work of an adventurous boy, who had tied up his sweets -in a handkerchief of doubtful antecedents, that he might have the -satisfaction of blowing up and bursting his bag. This feat was -pretty frequently repeated in the course of the evening, in spite of -all the moral and physical influence brought to bear on the offenders -by Mr Stuart and the parents respectively. - -The chapel was intensely warm when the speakers took their places on -the platform, and Mona fervently hoped that Mr Stuart had failed to -find a stopgap, as the programme was already of portentous length. -It seemed impossible that she could sit out the evening in such an -atmosphere, and still more impossible that the bloodless, neurotic -girl in front of her should do so. - -The first speaker was introduced by the chairman. - -"Now for the moral windbags!" thought Mona resignedly. - -She felt herself decidedly snubbed, however, when the speeches were -in full swing. The gift of speaking successfully at a _soirée_ is -soon recognised in the world where _soirées_ prevail, and the man who -possesses it acquires a celebrity often extending beyond his own -county. One or two of the speakers were men possessing both wit and -humour, of a good Scotch brand; and the others made up for their -deficiencies in this respect by a clever and laborious patchwork of -anecdotes and repartees, which, in the excitement of the moment, -could scarcely be distinguished from the genuine mantle of happy -inspiration. - -In the midst of one of the speeches a disturbance arose. The girl in -front of Mona had fainted. Several men carried her out, shyly and -clumsily, in the midst of a great commotion; and, after a moment's -hesitation, Mona followed them. She was glad she had done so, for -fainting-fits were rare on that breezy coast, and no one else seemed -to know what to do. Meanwhile the unfortunate girl was being held -upright in the midst of a small crowd of spectators. - -"Lay her down on the matting," said Mona quietly, "and stand back, -please, all of you. No, she wants nothing under her head. One of -you might fetch some water--and a little whisky, if it is at hand. -It is nothing serious, Mrs Brander and I can do all that is required." - -All the men started off for water at once, much to Mona's relief. -She loosened the girl's dress, while the matron produced -smelling-salts, and in a few minutes the patient opened her eyes, -with a deep sigh. - -"Surely Kirkstoun is not her home," said Mona, looking at the girl's -face. "Sea-breezes have not had much to do with the making of her." - -"Na," said the matron. "She's a puir weed. She's visiting her -gran'faither across the street. I'll tak' her hame." - -"No, no," said Mona. "Go back to the _soirée_, I'll look after her." - -"Ye'll miss your tea! They're takin' roun' the teapits the noo." - -"I have had tea, thank you," and, putting a strong arm round the -girl's waist, Mona walked home with her, and saw her safely into bed. - -She hurried back to the chapel, for she knew Rachel would be fretting -about her; but the night breeze was cold and fresh, and she dreaded -returning to that heated, impure air. When she entered the door, -however, she scarcely noticed the atmosphere, for the laughing and -fidgeting had given place to an intense stillness, broken only by one -rich musical voice. - - "So my eye and hand, - And inward sense that works along with both, - Have hunger that can never feed on coin." - -Mr Stuart's stopgap was filling his part of the programme. - -Mona hesitated at the door, and then quietly resumed her place at the -end of the pew beside Rachel. The reader paused for a moment till -she was seated, a scarcely perceptible shade of expression passed -over his face, as her silk gown rustled softly up the aisle, and then -he went on. - -It was a curious poem to read to such an audience, but even the boys -and girls forgot their almonds and raisins as they listened to the -beautiful voice. For Mona, the low ceiling, the moist walls, and the -general air of smug squalor vanished like a dissolving view. In -their place the infinite blue of an Italian sky rose above her head, -the soft warm breeze of the south was on her cheek; and she stood in -the narrow picturesque street listening to the "plain white-aproned -man," with the light of the eternal in his eyes. - - "'Tis God gives skill, - But not without men's hands: He could not make - Antonio Stradivari's violins - Without Antonio. Get thee to thy easel." - - -It was over. There was a long breath, and a general movement in the -chapel. Dudley took an obscure seat at the back of the platform, -shaded his eyes with his hand, and looked at Mona. - -Again and again in London he had told himself that it was all -illusion, that he had exaggerated the nobility of her face, the -sensitiveness of her mouth, the subtle air of distinction about her -whole appearance; and now he knew that he had exaggerated nothing. -His eye wandered round the congregation, and came back to her with a -sensation of infinite rest. Then his pulse began to beat more -quickly. He was excited, perhaps, by the way in which that -uncultured audience had sat spellbound by his voice, for at that -moment it seemed to him that he would give a great deal to call up -the love-light in those eloquent eyes. - -"She is a girl," he thought, with quick intuition. "She has never -loved, and no doubt she believes she never will. I envy the man who -forces her to own her mistake. She is no sweet white daisy to whom -any man's touch is sunshine. There are depths of expression in that -face that have never yet been stirred. Happy man who is the -first--perhaps the only one--to see them! He will have a long -account to settle with Fortune." - -And then Dudley pulled himself up short. Thoughts like these would -not lead to success in his examination. And even if they would, what -right had he to think them? Till his Intermediate was over in July, -he must speak to no woman of love; and not until his Final lay behind -him had he any right to think of marriage. And any day while he was -far away in London the man might come--the man with the golden key---- - -Dudley turned and bowed to the speaker in considerable confusion. -Some graceful reference had evidently been made to his reading, for -there was a momentary pause in the vague droning that had accompanied -his day-dreams, and every one was looking at him with a cordial smile. - -"Who would have thought of Dr Dudley being here?" said Rachel, as the -cousins walked home. "It is a great pity his being so short-sighted; -he looks so much nicer without his spectacles. I wonder if he -remembers what good friends we were that day at St Rules?--I declare -I believe that's him behind us now." - -She was right, and he was accompanied by no less a person than the -Baptist minister. - -"I would ask you to walk out and have a bachelor's supper with me, -Stuart, by way of getting a little pure air into your lungs," Dudley -had said, as he threw on his heavy Inverness cape; "but it is a far -cry, and I suppose you have a guest at your house to-night." - -The minister had accepted with alacrity. He was tired, to be sure, -but he would gladly have walked ten miles for the sake of a -conversation with one of his "intellectual peers." - -"I have no guest," he had said eagerly; "it was my man who failed me. -I would ask you to come home with me, but there are things we cannot -talk of before my wife. 'Leave thou thy sister,'--you know." - -A faint smile had flitted over Dudley's face at the thought of Mr -Stuart's "purer air." - -So they set out, and in due course they overtook Rachel and Mona. - -Mr Stuart could scarcely believe his eyes when he saw Dr Dudley -actually slackening his pace to walk with them. It was right and -Christian to be courteous, no doubt, but this was so utterly uncalled -for. - -Dudley did not seem to think so, however. He exchanged a few -pleasant words with Rachel, and then, regardless alike of her delight -and of the minister's irritation, he very simply and naturally walked -on with Mona in advance of the other two. - -Many a time, when hundreds of miles had separated them, Mona and -Dudley had in imagination talked to each other frankly and simply; -but, now that they were together, they both became suddenly shy and -timid. What were their mutual relations? Were they old friends, or -mere acquaintances? Neither knew. - -The silence became awkward. - -"Your reading was a great treat," said Mona, somewhat formally at -last. - -Anybody could have told him that. He wanted something more from her. - -"I am glad if it did not bore you," he said coldly. - -She looked up. They were just leaving the last of the Kirkstoun -street-lamps behind them, but in the uncertain light they exchanged a -smile. That did more for them than many words. - -"It is not poetry of course," he said. "It is only a magnificent -instance of what my shaggy old Edinburgh professor would call -'metrical intellection.'" - -"And yet, surely, in a broader sense, it is poetry. It seems to me -that that magnificent 'genius of morality' produces art of a kind -peculiarly its own. It is not cleverness; it is inspiration--though -it is not 'poesie.' In any case, you made it poetry for me. I saw -the sunny, glowing street, and the blue sky overhead." - -"Did you?" he said eagerly. "Truly? I am so glad. I had such a -vivid mental picture of it myself, that I thought the brain-waves -must carry it to some one. It is very dark here. Won't you take my -arm?" - -"No, thank you; I am well used to this road in the dark. By the way, -I must apologise for disturbing your reading. I would have remained -at the door, but I was afraid some man would offer me his seat, and -that we should between us kick the foot-board and knock down a few -hymn-books before we settled the matter." - -"I was so relieved when you came forward and took your own place," he -said slowly, as though he were determined that she should not take -the words for an idle compliment "I had been watching that vacant -corner beside Miss Simpson. How is Castle Maclean?" - -"It is pretty well delivered over to the sea-gulls at present. I am -afraid it must be admitted that Castle Maclean is more suited to a -summer than to a winter residence. I often run down there, but these -east winds are not suggestive of lounging." - -"Not much," he said. "When I picture you there, it is always summer." - -"Oh," said Mona suddenly, "there is one thing that I must tell you. -You remember a conversation we had about the Cooksons?" - -"Yes." - -"Matilda and I are great friends now, and I have had good reason to -be ashamed of my original attitude towards her. I think it was you -who put me right." - -"Indeed it was not," he said warmly. "I, forsooth! You put yourself -right--if you were ever wrong." - -"I was wrong. And you--well, you took too high an estimate of me, -and that is the surest way of putting people right. You have no idea -how much good stuff there is in that child. She is becoming quite a -German scholar; and she has read _Sesame and Lilies_, has been much -struck by that quotation from Coventry Patmore, and at the present -moment is deep in _Heroes_. What do you say to that?" - -"Score!" he said quietly. "How did she come to know you?" - -"Oh, by one of the strange little accidents of life. She has done me -a lot of good, too. She is very warm-hearted and impressionable." - -There was a lull in the conversation. Across the bare fields came -the distant roar of the sea. They were still nearly half a mile from -home, and a great longing came upon Mona to tell him about her -medical studies. Why had she been such an idiot as to make that -promise; and, having made it, why had she never asked her cousin to -release her from it? She drew a long breath. - -"My dear," said Rachel's voice behind them, "Mr Stuart wants to have -a little conversation with you. Well, doctor, I hope Mistress -Hamilton is not worse, that you are here just now?" - -Mr Stuart's wrongs were avenged. - -For one moment Dudley thought of protesting, but the exchange of -partners was already effected, and he was forced to submit. - -"Our conversation was left unfinished this morning, Miss Maclean," -said the minister. - -"Was it? I thought we had discussed the subject in all its bearings. -You are to be congratulated on the substitute you found." - -"Am I not?" he answered warmly. "It was all by accident, too, that I -met the doctor, and he was very unwilling to come. He had just run -down for one day to settle a little business matter for his aunt; but -I put him near the end of the programme, so that he might not have to -leave the house till near Mrs Hamilton's bedtime." - -For one day! For one day! - -The minister sighed. Miss Simpson had left him no choice about -"speaking to" her cousin; but he did not feel equal to an encounter -to-night; and certainly he could scarcely have found Mona in a less -approachable mood. - -"You are not a Baptist, Miss Maclean?" - -"No." - -"Have you studied the subject at all?" - -"The Gospels are not altogether unfamiliar ground to me;" but her -tone was much less aggressive than her words. - -"And to what conclusion do they bring you?" - -"I think there is a great deal to be said in favour of the Baptist -view; but, Mr Stuart, it all seems to me a matter of so little -importance. Surely it is the existence, not the profession, of faith -that redeems the world; and the precise mode of profession is of less -importance still." - -"Do you realise what you are saying?" Mr Stuart began to forget his -fatigue. "God has declared that one 'mode of profession,' as you -call it, is in accordance with His will, but you pay no heed, because -your finite reason tells you that it is of so little importance." - -"It is God who is responsible for my finite reason, not I," said -Mona; and then the thought of where this conversation must lead, and -the uselessness of it, overwhelmed her. - -Her voice softened. "Mr Stuart," she said, "it is very kind of you -to care what I think and believe--to-night, too, of all times, when -you must be so tired after that 'function.' I believe it is a help -to some people to talk, but I don't think it is even right for me--at -least at present. When I begin to formulate things, I seem to lose -the substance in the shadow; I get interested in the argument for the -argument's sake. Believe me, I am not living a thoughtless life." - -Mr Stuart was impressed by her earnestness in spite of himself. -"But, my dear young lady, is it wise, is it safe, to leave things so -vague, to have nothing definite to lean upon?" - -"I think so; if one tries to do right." - -"It is all very well while you are young, and life seems long; but -trouble will come, and sickness, and death----" - -Rachel and Dudley had reached the gate of Carlton Lodge, and were -waiting for the other two. But Mr Stuart did not think it necessary -to break off, or even to lower his voice. - -"----and when the hour of your need comes, and you can no longer -grapple with great thoughts, will you not long for a definite word, a -text----?" - -Dudley's face was a picture. Mona underwent a quick revulsion of -feeling. How dared any one speak to her publicly like that! She -answered lightly, however, too lightly-- - - "'Denn, was man schwarz auf weiss besitzt, - Kann man getrost nach Hause tragen'"! - - -Of course she knew that Dr Dudley alone would understand, and of -course Dudley keenly appreciated the apt quotation. - -"Holloa, Stuart!" he said, "you seem to be figuring in a new and -alarming _rôle_. I am half afraid to go in with you. I wish you -could come and join in our discussion, Miss Maclean. 'Nineteenth -Century Heretics' is our topic. Stuart takes the liberal side, I the -conservative." - -"Do you think it expedient," said the minister reproachfully, as the -two men crunched the gravel of the carriage-drive beneath their feet, -"to talk in that flippant way to women on deep subjects?" - -"Oh, Miss Maclean is all right! She could knock you and me into a -cocked-hat any day." - -And he believed what he said--at least so far as the minister was -concerned. - -"She really is very intelligent," admitted Mr Stuart. "I quite miss -her face when she is not at church on Sunday morning; but you know -she does put herself forward a little. What made her go out after -that fainting girl, when so many older women were present? Oh, I -forgot, you had not arrived----" - -"It was well for the fainting girl that she did," interrupted Dudley -calmly. "When I was going to the vestry some one rushed frantically -against me, and told me a woman had fainted. I arrived on the scene -a moment after Miss Maclean, but fortunately she did not see me. By -Jingo, Stuart, that girl can rise to an occasion! If ever your -chapel is crowded, and takes fire, you may pray that Miss Maclean may -be one of the congregation." - -It gave him a curious pleasure to talk like this, but he would not -have trusted himself to say so much, had it not been for the friendly -darkness, and the noise of the gravel beneath their feet. - -Mr Stuart suspected nothing. Dr Dudley and Rachel Simpson's cousin! -People would have been very slow to link their names. - -"Yes, she is very intelligent," he repeated. "I must try to find -time to have some more talks with her." - -"I wish you joy of them!" thought Dudley. "I should like to know how -you tackle a case like that, Stuart," he said. "Tell me what you -said to her, and what she said to you." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII. - -CHUMS. - -Action and reaction are equal and opposite. - -Dudley was back in his den in London. For the first day after his -return, he had thought of nothing but Mona; her face had come between -him and everything he did. Now it was bending, grave and motherly, -over the fainting girl, now it was sparkling with mischief at the -quotation from _Faust_, now it vibrated to the words of -_Stradivarius_, and now--oftenest of all--it looked up at him in the -dim lamplight, with that enquiring, inexplicable smile, half -friendly, half defiant. - -And the evening and the morning were the first day. - -But now the second day had come, and Dudley was thinking--of Rachel -Simpson. - -He pushed aside his books, and tramped up and down the room. How -came she there, his exquisite fern, in that hideous dungeon? And was -she indeed so fair? Removed from those surroundings, would she begin -for the first time to show the taint she had acquired? In the -drawing-room, at the dinner-table, in a _solitude à deux_, what if -one should see in her a suggestion of--Rachel Simpson? - -And then Mona's face came back once more, pure, high-souled, virgin; -without desire or thought for love and marriage. There was not the -faintest ruby streak on the bud, and yet, and yet--what if he were -the man to call it forth? Why had she refused his arm? It would -have been pleasant to feel the touch of that strong, self-reliant -little hand. It would be pleasant to feel it now---- - -There was a knock at the door, and a fair-haired, merry-eyed young -man came in. - -"Holloa, Melville!" said Dudley. "Off duty?" - -"Ay; Johnston and I have swopped nights this week." - -"Anything special on at the hospital?" - -"No, nothing since I saw you. That Viking is not going to pull -through, after all." - -"You don't mean it!" - -"Fact. I believe that bed is unlucky. This is the third case that -has died in it. All pneumonia, too." - -"I believe pneumonia cases ought to be isolated," - -"I know you have a strong theory to that effect. I did an external -strabismus to-day." - -"Successful?" - -"I think so. I kept my hair on. By the way, you remember that -duffer Lawson?" - -"Yes." - -"He has hooked an heiress--older than himself, but not so -bad-looking. He will have a practice in no time now. I met him -bowling along in his carriage, and there was I trudging through the -mud! It's the irony of fate, upon my soul!" - -"True," said Dudley; "but you know, when we have all the intellect, -and all the heart, and all the culture, we don't need to grudge him -his carriage." - -"I'll shy something at you, Ralph! And now I want your news. How is -the way?" - -"Thorny." - -"And the prospect of the anatomy medal?" - -"Dim. But what are medals to an 'aged, aged man' like me?" - -"You are hipped to-night. What's up?" - -Dudley did not reply at once. He was intensely reserved, as a rule, -about his private affairs, but a curious impulse was upon him now to -contradict his own character. - -"You and I have been chums for twenty years, more or less, Jack," he -said irrelevantly. - -"True, O king! Well?" - -"I want to ask your advice on an abstract case." - -"Do you? Fire away! I am a dab at medical etiquette." Dudley had -been paying a few professional visits for a friend. - -"It is not a question of medical etiquette," he said testily. -"Suppose," he drew a long breath--"suppose you knew a young girl----" - -"Ah! My dear fellow, I never do know a young girl! It is the -greatest mistake in the world." - -"Suppose," went on Dudley, unheeding, "that physically, mentally, and -morally, she was about as near perfection as a human being can be." - -"Oh, _of course_!" - -"I don't ask your opinion as to the probability of it. I don't say I -know such a person. Man alive! can't you suppose an abstract case?" - -"It is a large order, but I am doing my level best." - -"Suppose that, so far as she was concerned, it was simply all over -with you." - -"Oh, that is easy enough. Well?" - -"Would you marry her, if----" - -"Alack, it had to come! Yes. If----?" - -"If she was a--a tremendous contrast to her people?" - -"Oh, _that_ is it, is it?" Melville sprang to his feet, and spoke -very emphatically. "No, my dear fellow, upon my soul, I would not! -They grow into their heredity with all the certainty of fate. I -would rather marry a _gauche_ and unattractive girl because her -mother was charming." - -This was rather beside the point, but it depressed Dudley, and he -sighed. - -"But suppose--one has either to rave or make use of conventional -expressions--suppose she was infinitely bright, and attractive, and -womanly?" - -"Oh, they are all that, you know." - -"If you knew her----" - -"Oh, of course. That goes without saying. Now we come back to the -point we started from. As I told you before, I never do know them, -and it keeps me out of a world of mischief." - -Melville seated himself by the fire, and buried his hands in his -curly hair. - -"Ralph, while we are at it," he said, "I want to give you a word of -advice. _Verb. sap._, you know. If any man knows you, I am that -man. As you were remarking, you have lain on my dissecting-board for -twenty years." - -"I wish you had done me under water. You would have made a neater -thing of it." - -"So I would, old fellow, but you were too big. The difficulty was to -get you into my mental laboratory at all." - -Dudley bowed. - -"Don't bow. It was well earned. You fished for it uncommon neatly. -But you know, Ralph, I am serious now. Let me say it for once--you -are awfully fastidious, awfully sensitive, awfully over-cultured. -Few women could please you. It matters little whether you marry a -good woman or a bad,--I don't know that there is much difference -between them myself; the saints and the sinners get jumbled -somehow,--but you must marry a woman of the world. Gretchen would be -awfully irresistible, I know--for a month; she would not wear. Marry -a woman full of surprises, a woman who does not take all her colour -from you, a woman who can keep you dangling, as it were." - -"It sounds restful." - -Melville laughed. "Restful or not, that's the woman for you, Ralph. -You are not equal to an hour at the Pavilion, I suppose? Well, -ta-ta." - -Dudley sat in silence till the echo of his friend's steps on the -pavement had died away. Then he rose and tramped up and down the -room again. - -"After all, Miss Simpson is only her cousin," he said. "If I routed -about I might find some rather shady cousins myself. But then I -don't live with them. If her parents were a decided cut above that, -how comes she there? And being there, how can she have escaped -contamination? I wonder what Miss Simpson's dinner-table is like? -Ugh! Is it as squalid as the shop? And why is the shop so squalid? -Does Miss Simpson allow no interference in her domain? And yet I -cannot conceive of Miss Maclean being out of place at a duchess's -table." - -He dropped into a chair, clasped his hands behind his head, and spoke -aloud almost indignantly in his perplexity. - -"How can a provincial shop-girl be a woman of the world? And yet, -upon my soul! Miss Maclean seems to me to come nearer Melville's -description than any woman I ever knew. Alack-a-day! I must be -besotted indeed. Oh, damn that examination!" - -Ralph returned to his books, however, and tried hard to shut out all -farther thoughts of Mona that night. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII. - -CARBOLIC! - -"Holloa, Jones! going home?" - -"I am going to lunch; I may be back in the afternoon." - -"Please yourself, my dear fellow, but if you don't finish that axilla -to-day, I shall be under the painful necessity of reflecting the -pectorals, and proceeding with the thorax, at 9 A.M. to-morrow." - -"Oh, I say, Dudley, that is too bad." - -"I fail to see it. You have had one day too long as it is." - -"But you know I did cut my finger." - -"H'm. I have not just the profoundest faith in that cut finger. You -know it _did_ happen on the day of the football-match." - -The boy laughed. "And Collett will never manage that sole of the -foot without you," he said. - -"Collett must." Dudley smiled up at the eager face that was bending -over his dissection. "I only undertook to find the cutaneous branch -of the internal plantar," and he lifted the nerve affectionately on -the handle of his scalpel. "Come, Jones, fire away. _Ce n'est pas -la mer à boire_. Half an hour will do it." - -"Oh, I say! It would take me four hours. You know, Dudley, there is -such a lot of reading on the axilla. I am all in a muddle as it is. -I'll sit up half the night reading it, if you will give me another -day." - -"Very sorry, old man. _Ars longa_. I must get on with my thorax. -It will do you far more good to read in the dissecting-room. -Preconceived ideas are a mistake. Get a good lunch, and come back. -That's your scalpel, I think, Collett." - -"Oh, bother! I only wish I had ideas of any kind! I wish to -goodness somebody would demonstrate the whole thing to me, and finish -the dissection as he goes along!" - -"I will do that with pleasure, if you like, to-morrow. The gain will -be mine--and perhaps it will be the best thing you can do now. But -don't play that little game too often, if you mean to be an -anatomist." - -"I don't," cried the boy vehemently. "I wish to heaven I need never -see this filthy old hole again!" - -Dudley glanced round the fine airy room, as he stood with his hands -under the tap. - -"I know that feeling well," he said. - -"You, Dudley! Why, somebody said the other day that the very dust of -the dissecting-room was dear to you." - -"So it is, I think," said Ralph, smiling. "But it was very different -in the days when I stroked the nettle in the gingerly fashion you are -doing now." - -"You mean that you think I should like it better if I really tucked -into it," said the boy ruefully. - -"I don't think at all; I know. 9 A.M. to-morrow sharp, then." - -Dudley stepped out briskly into the raw damp air. The mud was thick -under foot, and the whole aspect of the world was depressing to the -hard-worked student. One by one the familiar furrows took possession -of his brow, and his step slackened gradually, till it kept pace with -the dead march of his thoughts. He was within a stone's-throw of his -rooms, when a dashing mail-phaeton came up behind him. A good horse -was always a source of pleasure to him, and he noted, point by point, -the beauties of the two fine bays, which, bespattered with foam, were -chafing angrily at the delay caused by some block in the street. -Suddenly Ralph bethought himself of Melville's story about the "irony -of fate," and he glanced with amused curiosity at the occupant of the -carriage. - -There was no irony here. The reins lay firmly but easily in the -hands of a man who was well in keeping with the -horses,--fine-looking, of military bearing, with ruddy face, and -curly white hair. He, too, seemed annoyed at the block, for there -was a heavy frown on his brow. - -At last the offending cart turned down a side-street, and the bays -dashed on. Immediately in front of them was a swift heavy dray, and -behind it, as is the fashion among gamins, sublimely regardless of -all the dangers of his position, hung a very small boy. The dray -stopped for a moment, then suddenly lumbered on, and before either -Dudley or the driver of the phaeton had noticed the child, he had -fallen from his precarious perch, and lay under the hoofs of the bays. - -With one tremendous pull the phaeton was brought to a standstill, -while Dudley and the groom rushed forward to extricate the child. - -"I think he is more frightened than hurt," said Ralph, "but my rooms -are close at hand. If you like, I will take him in and examine him -carefully. I am a doctor." - -"Upon my soul, I am very much obliged to you! I am leaving town for -the Riviera to-night, and it would be confoundedly awkward to be -detained by a business of this kind. Step up, will you? Charles -will hand up the child after you are in." - -The boy lay half stunned, drawing little sobbing breaths. When they -reached the house, Dudley handed the latch-key to his companion, and, -raising the boy in his strong arms, he carried him up the steps. - -"Bless me, you are as good as a woman!" said the man of the world, in -amused admiration, as he opened the door. "It was uncommonly lucky -for me that you happened to be passing." - -Dudley showed his new acquaintance into his snuggery, while he -examined the boy. The snuggery was a room worth seeing. There was -nothing showy or striking about it, but every picture, every book, -every bit of pottery, had been lovingly and carefully chosen, and the -_tout ensemble_ spoke well for the owner of the room. - -"A man of culture clearly," said the visitor, after making a -leisurely survey; "and what a life for him, by Gad!--examining dirty -little _gamins_! He can't be poor. What the deuce does he do it -for?" - -"He is all right," said Dudley emphatically, re-entering the room. -"He has been much interested in my manikin, and at the present moment -is tucking vigorously into bread-and-marmalade. I have assured him -that ninety-nine drivers out of a hundred would have gone right over -him. You certainly are to be congratulated on the way you pulled -those horses up." - -"Do you think so? I am very glad to hear it. Gad! I thought myself -it was all over with the little chap. The fact is--it is a fine -state of affairs if I can't manage a horse at my time of life; but I -confess my thoughts were pretty far afield at the moment. It is most -annoying. I have taken my berth on the Club Train for this -afternoon, and I find I shall have to go without seeing my niece. I -wrote to make an appointment, but it seems she has left her former -rooms. By the way, you are a doctor. Do you happen to know any of -the lady medical students?" - -Dudley shook his head. "I am sorry I have not that honour," he said. - -His visitor laughed harshly. - -"You don't believe in all that, eh?" - -"Oh, I don't say that. I am very far from being conservative on the -subject of women's work. I am inclined on the whole to think that -women have souls, and, that being so, and the age of brute force -being past, it is to my mind a natural corollary that they should -choose their own work." - -"I don't see that at all, sir. I don't see that at all," said the -elderly gentleman, throwing himself into a chair, and talking very -warmly. "Souls! What have souls got to do with it, I should like to -know? Can they do it without becoming blunted? That is the -question." - -"I confess I think it is a strange life for a woman to choose, but I -know one or two women--one certainly--who would make far better -doctors than I ever shall." - -"Oh, they are a necessity! Mind, sir, I believe women-doctors are a -necessity; so it is a mercy they want to do it; but why the devil -should my niece take it up? She is not the sort of woman you mean at -all. To think that a fine-looking, gentle, gifted girl, who might -marry any man she liked, and move in any society she chose, should -spend her days in an atmosphere of--what is the smell in this room, -sir?" - -Dudley laughed. "Carbolic, I suppose," he said. "I use a good deal -of it." - -"Carbolic! Well, think of a beautiful woman finding it necessary to -live in an atmosphere of--_carbolic_!" - -Dudley laughed again, his visitor's voice was so expressive. - -"There are minor drawbacks, of course," he said. "But I strongly -agree with you, that there is a part of our work which ought to be in -the hands of women; and I, for one, will gladly hand it over to them." - -"I believe you! Oh, when all is said, it's grimy work, -doctoring--grimy work!" - -"You know, of course, that I join issue with you there." - -"You don't find it so?" - -"God forbid!" - -"Tell me," said the stranger eagerly, running his eye from Dudley's -cultured face to his long nervous hands, "you ought to know--given a -woman, pure, and good, and strong, could she go through it all -unharmed?" - -"Pure, and good, and strong," repeated Dudley reflectively. "Given a -woman like that, you may safely send her through hell itself. I -think the fundamental mistake of our civilisation has been educating -women as if they were all run in one mould. She will get her eyes -opened, of course, if she studies medicine, but some women never -attain the possibilities of their nature in the shadow of convent -walls. Frankly, I have no great fancy for artificially reared -purity." - -"Artificially reared!" exclaimed the other. "My dear sir, there are -a few intermediate stages between the hothouse and the dunghill! If -it were only art, or literature, or politics, or even science, but -anatomy--the dissecting-room!" - -"Well," said Dudley rather indignantly, his views developing as he -spoke, "even anatomy, like most things, is as you make it. Many men -take possession of a 'little city of sewers,' but I should think a -pure and good woman might chance to find herself in the 'temple of -the Holy Ghost.'" - -His visitor was somewhat startled by this forcible language, and he -did not answer for a moment. He seemed to be attentively studying -the pattern of the carpet. Presently he looked full at Dudley, and -spoke somewhat sharply. - -"Knowing all you do, you think that possible?" - -"Knowing all I do, I think that more than possible." - -The man of the world sat for some time in silence, tapping his boot -with a ruler he had taken from the writing-table. - -"I'll tell you what I can do for you," said Dudley suddenly. "I can -give you the address of the Women's Medical School. Your niece is -probably there." - -"Oh Lord, no! I am a brave man, but I am not equal to that. I would -rather face a tiger in the jungle any day. Well, sir, I am sure I am -infinitely obliged to you. I wish I could ask you to dine at my -club, but I hope I shall see you when I am next in London. That is -my card. Where's the little chap? Look here, my man! There is a -Christmas-box for you, but if you ever get under my horses' feet -again, I will drive right on; do you hear?" - -He shook hands cordially with Dudley, slipped a couple of guineas -into his hand, and in another minute the impatient bays were dashing -down the street. - -"Sir Douglas Munro," said Dudley, examining the card. "A magnificent -specimen of the fine old Anglo-Indian type. I should like to see -this wonderful niece of his!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV. - -PALM-TREES AND PINES. - -A world of palm-trees and pines, of aloes and eucalyptus, of -luxuriant hedges all nodding and laughing with gay red roses, of -white villas gleaming out from a misty background of olives, of -cloudless sky looking down on the deep blue sea--a vivid sunshiny -world, and in the midst of it all, Miss Lucy, to all appearance as -gay and as light-hearted as if she had never dissected the -pterygo-maxillary region, nor pored over the pages of Quain. - -The band was playing waltzes in the garden below, and Lucy, as she -dressed, was dancing and swaying to and fro, like the roses in the -wind. - -"_Entrez!_" she cried, without moderating her steps, as she heard a -knock at the door. - -It was Evelyn, fair, tall, and somewhat severe. - -"You are not very like a medical student," she said gravely. - -"I should take that for an unmixed compliment, if I did not know what -it meant." - -"What does it mean?" - -"That I am not in the least like Mona." - -"Well, you are not, you know." - -"True, _ma belle_. It was you who fitted on the lion's skin, not I. -But did you come into my room just to tell me that?" - -"I came to say that if you can be ready in ten minutes, Father will -take us all to Monte Carlo." - -"Ten minutes! Oh, Evelyn, and you have wasted one! What are you -going to wear?" - -"This, of course. What should I wear?" - -Lucy selected a gown from her wardrobe. "But is not Sir Douglas -still awfully tired with the journey?" she asked, looking over her -shoulder to get a back view of her pretty skirt in the pier-glass. - -"He has rested more or less for two days, and he is anxious to see -the Monteiths before they go on to Florence." - -She did not add, "I told him you were pining to see Monte Carlo -before you go home." - -"The Monteiths," repeated Lucy involuntarily. And as she heard the -name on her own lips, the healthy flush on her cheek deepened almost -imperceptibly. - -Evelyn seated herself on a hat-box. - -"I don't believe you will ever be a doctor," she remarked calmly. - -"What do you bet?" Lucy did not look up from the arduous task of -fastening her bodice. - -"I don't bet; but if you ever are, I'll--_consult_ you!" - -And having solemnly discharged this Parthian dart, she left the room. - -In truth, the two girls were excellent friends, although they were -continually sparring. Evelyn considered Lucy an absolute fraud in -the capacity of "learned women," but she did not on that account find -the light-hearted medical student any the less desirable as a -companion. As to comparing her with Mona, Evelyn would have laughed -at the bare idea; and loyal little Lucy would have been the first to -join in the laugh: she had never allowed any one even to suspect that -she had passed an examination in which Mona had failed. Mona was the -centre of the system in which she was a satellite; she was bitterly -jealous of all the other satellites in their relation to the centre, -but who would be jealous of the sun? - -Lady Munro had taken a great fancy to her visitor. She would not -have owned to the heresy for the world, but she certainly was much -more at her ease in Lucy's society than she ever had been in Mona's, -and how Sir Douglas could find his niece more _piquante_ than Lucy -Reynolds, she could not even imagine. She knew exactly where she had -Lucy, but even when Mona agreed with her most warmly, she had an -uncomfortable feeling that a glance into her niece's mind might prove -a little startling. She met Lucy on common ground, but Mona seemed -to be on a different plane, and Lady Munro found it extremely -difficult to tell when that plane was above, and when below, her own. - -She would have been not a little surprised, and her opinion of the -relative attractions of the two friends might have been somewhat -altered, had any one told her that Mona admired and idealised her -much more even than Lucy did. If any one of us were unfortunate -enough to receive the "giftie" of which the poet has sung, it is -probable that the principal result of such insight would be a -complete readjustment of our friendships. - -But now Sir Douglas had appeared upon the scene, and of course Lucy -was much more anxious to "succeed" with him than with either of the -others. She had seen very little of him as yet, and she had done her -best, but so far the result had been somewhat disappointing. It was -almost a principle with Sir Douglas never to pay much attention to a -pretty young girl. He had seen so many of them in his day, and they -were all so much alike. Even this saucy little _Æsculapia militans_ -was no exception. As the scientist traces an organism through "an -alternation of generations," and learns by close observation that two -or three names have been given to one and the same being, so Sir -Douglas fancied he saw in Lucy Reynolds only an old and familiar type -in a new stage of its life-history. - -He had gone through much trouble and perplexity on the subject of -Mona's life-work; and Dudley's somewhat fanciful words had for the -first time given expression to a vague idea that had floated formless -in his own mind ever since he first met his niece at Gloucester -Place. It would be ridiculous to apply such an explanation to Lucy's -choice, but Sir Douglas had no intention of opening up the problem -afresh. He took for granted that Lucy had undertaken the work "for -the fun of the thing," because it was novel, startling, _outré_; and -he confided to his wife that "that old Reynolds must be a -chuckle-headed noodle in his dotage to allow such a piece of -nonsense." - -In a very short time after Evelyn's summons to Lucy, the whole party -were rattling down the hill to the station, in the crisp, cold, dewy -morning air. Evelyn was calm and dignified as usual, but Lucy was -wild with excitement. Everything was a luxury to her--to be with a -man of the world like Sir Douglas, to travel in a luxurious -first-class carriage, to see a little bit more of this wonderful -world. - -They left Nice behind them, and then the scenery became gradually -grander and more severe, till the train had to tunnel its way through -the mighty battlements of rock that towered above the sea, and -afforded a scanty nourishment to the scattered pines, all tossed and -bent and twisted by the wind in the enervating climate of the south. -At last, jutting out above the water, at the foot of the rugged -heights, as though it too, forsooth, had the rights of eternal -nature, Monte Carlo came in view,--gay, vulgar, beautiful, tawdry, -irresistible Monte Carlo! - -"Is that really the Casino?" said Lucy, in an eager hushed voice. - -Sir Douglas laughed. Lucy's enthusiasm pleased him in spite of -himself. - -"It is," he said; "but, if you have no objection, we'll have -something to eat before we visit it." - -To him the Casino was a commonplace toy of yesterday; to Evelyn it -was a shocking and beautiful place, that one ought to see for once; -to Lucy it was a temple of romance. No need to bid her speak softly -as she entered the gorgeous, gloomy halls, with their silent eager -groups. - -"Shall we see Gwendolen Harleth?" she whispered to Evelyn. - -On this occasion, however, Gwendolen Harleth was conspicuous by her -absence. There were a number of women at the roulette-tables who -looked like commonplace, hard-working governesses; there were -be-rouged and be-jewelled ladies of the demi-monde; there were -wicked, wrinkled old harpies who always seemed to win; and there were -one or two ordinary blooming young girls; but there was no Gwendolen -Harleth. For a moment Lucy was almost disappointed. It all looked -so like a game with counters, and no one seemed to care so very much -where the wheel stopped: surely the tragedy of this place had been a -little overdrawn. - -At that instant her eyes fell on an English boy, whose fresh honest -face was thrown into deep anxious furrows, and who kept glancing -furtively round, as if to make sure that no one noticed his misery. -His eye met Lucy's, and with a great effort he tried to smooth his -face into a look of easy assurance. He was not playing, but he went -on half unconsciously, jotting down the winning numbers on a slip of -paper. - -"_Messieurs, faites vos jeux._" - -The boy opened a large lean pocket-book, and drew out his last -five-franc piece. - -"_Le jeu est fait._" - -With sudden resolution he laid it on the table, and pushed it into -place. - -"_Rien ne, va plus._" - -"_Vingt-sept._" - -And the poor little five-franc piece was swept into the bank. - -The boy smiled airily, and returned the empty book to his pocket. - -Lucy looked at her companions, but none of them had noticed the -little tragedy. Sir Douglas led the way to another table, and -finally he handed a five-franc piece to each of the girls. To his -mind it was a part of the programme that they should be able to say -they had tried their luck. - -Lucy hesitated, strongly tempted. Dim visions floated before her -mind of making "pounds and pounds," and handing them over to that -poor boy. Then she shook her head. - -"My father would not like it," she whispered. - -Sir Douglas shrugged his shoulders. Verily, there was no accounting -for taste. How a man could allow his daughter to spend years in the -dissecting-room, and in the surgical wards of a hospital,--subject -her, in fact, to the necessity of spending her life in an atmosphere -of carbolic,--and object to her laying a big silver counter on a -green cloth, just for once, was more than he could divine. - -Evelyn hesitated also. But it would be such fun to say she had done -it. She took the coin and laid it on the table. "Where would you -put it?" she whispered rather helplessly to Lucy. - -Lucy knew nothing of the game, but she had been watching its progress -attentively, and her eye had been trained to quick and close -observation. Annoyed at Evelyn's slowness, and without stopping to -think, she took the cue and pushed the coin into place. It was just -in time. In another instant Evelyn's stake was doubled. - -"There, that will do," said Sir Douglas, as Evelyn seemed inclined to -repeat the performance. "I don't want to see your cheeks like those -of that lady opposite." - -A gentleman stood aside to let them leave the table, and as they -passed he held out his hand to Lucy. She did not take it at once, -but looked up at Sir Douglas in pretty consternation. - -"_There!_" she said. "I knew it! This is one of my father's -churchwardens." - -Sir Douglas was much amused. "Well," he said, "you have at least met -on common ground!" - -Lucy attempted a feeble explanation of the situation in which she had -been caught, and then hastily followed the others to the inner -temples sacred to _Rouge et Noir_. Here, at least, there was tragedy -enough even at the first glance. Lucy almost forgot the poor lad at -the roulette-table, as she watched the piles of gold being raked -hither and thither with such terrific speed. One consumptive-looking -man, whose face scarcely promised a year of life, was staking wildly, -and losing, losing, losing. At lust the piles in front of him were -all gone. After a moment's hesitation they were followed by note -after note from his pocket-book. Then these too came to an end, but -still the relentless wheel went on with that swiftness that is like -nothing else on earth. The man made no movement to leave the table. -With yellow-white shaking hands he continued to note the results, and -while all the rest were staking and winning and losing, he went on -aimlessly, feverishly pricking some meaningless design on the ruled -sheet before him. And all the time two young girls were gaining, -gaining, gaining, and smiling to the men behind them as they raked in -the piles of gold. - -"Let us go," said Lucy quickly. "I cannot bear this." - -"I do think we have had enough of it," Lady Munro agreed. "I am -thirsty, Douglas; let us have some coffee." - -They strolled out into the bright sunshine. - -"Well," said Sir Douglas, "a little disappointing, _n'est ce pas_?" - -"Oh no," said Lucy; "not at all. It is far more real than I thought. -The only disappointing thing is that----" - -"What?" - -She lifted her eyes with an expression of profound gravity. - -"All the women trim their own hats." - -"Why, Lucy," put in Evelyn, "I saw some very nice hats." - -"I did not say none of them trimmed their hats _well_," said Lucy -severely. "I only said they all trimmed their own." - -"We are rather too early in the day for _toilettes_," said Sir -Douglas. "I confess one does not see many attractive women here; but -there was a highly respectable British matron just opposite us at -that last table." - -"Yes," said Lucy indignantly. "She was the worst of all; sailing -about in her comfortable British plumage, with that air of -self-satisfied horror at the depth of Continental wickedness, and of -fond pride in the bouncing flapper at her heels. She made me feel -that it was worse to look on than to play." - -"Don't distress yourself," said Sir Douglas quietly; "you did play, -you know. Ask the churchwarden." - -"I owe you five francs," said Evelyn, "or ten. Which is it?" - -"_Don't!_" said Lucy. "It is no laughing matter for me, I can assure -you. Many is the trick I have played on that man. Heigh-ho! He has -his revenge." - -"Don't be down-hearted. You had at least the satisfaction of -winning." - -But Lucy was in no humour for being teased, and, to change the -subject, she began to tell the story of the different tragedies she -had witnessed. - -"It is all nonsense, you know," said Sir Douglas good-humouredly. -"That is the sort of stuff they put in the good books. People who -are really being bitten don't attract attention to themselves by -overdone by-play." - -Lucy did not reply, but she retained her own opinion. Overdone -by-play, indeed! As if she had eyes for nothing more subtle than -overdone by-play! - -"In the meantime we will have our coffee," said Sir Douglas, "and -then I will leave you at the concert, while I look up Monteith. I -will come and fetch you at the end of the first part. Here, Maud, -this table is disengaged." - -The head-waiter came up immediately. Sir Douglas was one of those -people who rarely have occasion to call a waiter. He gave the order, -lighted a cigar very deliberately, and then turned abruptly to Lucy. - -"Where is Mona?" he asked quietly. - -Lucy almost gasped for breath. - -"She was in London when I saw her last," she said, trying to gain -time. - -"At her old rooms?" - -"No-o," faltered Lucy. "She was sharing my rooms then." - -Then she gathered herself together. This would never do. Anything -would be better than to suggest that there was a mystery in the -matter. - -"You see," she said, "I have been away ever since the beginning of -term, and I have not heard from Mona for some time. I know she has -taken all the classes she requires for her next examination, and -reading can be done in one place as well as in another." - -"Then why the--why could not she come to us and do it?" - -Lucy laughed. She began to hope that the storm was passing over. - -"I suppose Mona would reply," she said, "that Cannes, like Cambridge, -is an excellent place to play in." - -"Then you don't know her address?" - -"I don't know it positively. I think it is quite likely that she is -with that cousin of hers in the north. She said once that she could -do far more work in that bracing air." - -"So she has gone there to prepare for this examination?" - -"I believe she is working very hard." - -"And when does the examination take place?" - -"I have not heard her say when she means to go up. You see, Sir -Douglas, my plans are Mona's, but Mona's plans are her own. She is -not one to rush through her course anyhow for the sake of getting on -the register, like--me for instance." - -"I can believe that. It seems Mona told her aunt that she was -leaving her old rooms, and that it would be well to address letters -for the present to the care of her man of business. Is that what you -do?" - -"I have not written for a long time. I shall send my next to her man -of business." - -"And won't I just give Mona a vivid account of how I came to do it!" -she added mentally. - -"Have you seen this lady--Mona's cousin? I don't know anything about -her." - -"No, I have not. I believe she is very quiet, and elderly, and -respectable,--and dull; the sort of person in whose house one can get -through a lot of work." - -"Humph," growled Sir Douglas. "A nice life for a girl like Mona!" - -"I am sure I wish she were here!" - -Sir Douglas looked at her. "Some of us," he said quietly, "wish that -every day of our lives. I called the other day to take her for a -drive in the Park, but found she had left her old rooms." And then -he told the story of his little misadventure of a few days before. - -"Oh," said Lucy, "what a terrible pity! Mona loves driving in the -Park. Do go for her again some day when she is working in London. -You have no idea what a treat a drive in the Park is to people who -have been poring over their bones, and their books, and their -test-tubes." - -"Well, what in the name of all that is incomprehensible does she do -it for? She might drive in the Park every day if she chose." - -"But then," said Lucy, "she would not be Mona." - -The muscles of his face relaxed, and then contracted again. - -"Even admitting," he said, "that all is well just now, how will it be -ten years hence?" - -"Ten years hence," said Evelyn, "Mona will have married a clever -young doctor. Lucy says the students have several times married the -lecturers." - -Sir Douglas frowned. "I should just like to see," he flashed out -angrily, "the young doctor who would presume to come and ask me for -Mona! I hate the whole trade. Why, that young fellow I told you -about, who came to my rescue, was infinitely superior to most of -them--cultured, and travelled, and that sort of thing--but, bless my -soul! he was not a man of the world. I would sooner see Mona in a -convent than give her to a whipper-snapper like that!" - -"Evelyn is wrong," said Lucy. "Mona will not marry. She never -thinks of that sort of thing. Ten years hence she will be a little -bit matronly, by reason of all the girls and women she will have -mothered. Her face will be rather worn perhaps, but in my eyes at -least she will be beautiful." - -"And in yours, Douglas," said Lady Munro, "she will still be the -bright young girl that she is to-day." - -She laughed softly as she spoke, but the laugh was a rather -half-hearted one. She had learnt the difference between the fruit -that is in a man's hand, and the fruit that is just out of reach. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV. - -WEEPING AND LAUGHTER. - -Sir Douglas had gone to see his friend, but it was still too early -for the concert, so Lady Munro and the girls strolled round to the -terrace overlooking the sea. - -"How lovely, how lovely!" said Lucy. "I wonder if there is any view -in all the world like this?" - -"We must find those two statues by Sara Bernhardt and Gustave Doré," -said Evelyn, looking up from her Baedeker. "One of them -represents----" - -"Oh, bother the statues!" cried Lucy. "I want to feel things to-day, -not to look at them." Her voice changed suddenly. "Lady Munro," she -said very softly, "that is my boy leaning on the stone balustrade. -Now, did I exaggerate? Look at him!" - -Lady Munro walked on for a moment or two, and then glanced at the lad -incidentally; but the glance extended itself with impunity into a -very deliberate study. The boy's face was flushed, and he was -muttering to himself incoherently as he gazed in front of him with -unseeing eyes. - -"He looks as if he was going mad," remarked Evelyn frankly. - -"He looks a great deal more like an acute maniac than most acute -maniacs do," said Lucy, with a proud recollection of a few visits to -an asylum. "Oh, Lady Munro, do, do go and speak to him! You would -do it so beautifully." - -Lady Munro hesitated. She never went out of her way to do good, but -this boy seemed to have come into her way; and her action was none -the less beautiful, because it was dictated, not by principle at all, -but by sheer motherly impulse. - -She left the girls some distance off, and rustled softly up to where -he stood. - -"_Pardon, monsieur,_" she said lightly, "can you tell me where the -statue by Gustavo Doré is?" - -He started and looked up. One did not often see a gracious woman -like this at Monte Carlo. - -"I beg your pardon," he said, making a desperate effort to collect -his thoughts. Distraught as was his air, his accent and manner were -cultured and refined. Lady Munro's interest in him increased. - -"Do you know where there is a statue by Gustave Doré?" - -He shook his head. "I am sorry I don't," he said, and he turned away -his face. - -But Lady Munro did not mean the conversation to end thus. "This is a -charming view, is it not?" she said. - -"Ye-e-s," he said; "oh, very charming." - -"I think I saw you at one of the tables in the Casino. I hope you -were successful?" - -He turned towards her like a stag at bay. There was anger and -resentment in his face, but far more deeply written than either of -these was despair. It was such a boyish face, too, so open and -honest. "Don't you see I can't talk about nothings?" it seemed to -say. "You are very kind and very beautiful; I am at your mercy; but -why do you torture me?" - -"You are in trouble," Lady Munro said, in her soft, irresistible -voice. "Perhaps it is not so bad after all. Tell me about it." - -A woman more accustomed to missions of mercy would have calculated -better the effect of her words. In another moment the tears were -raining down the lad's cheeks, and his voice was choked with sobs. -Fortunately, the great terrace was almost entirely deserted. Lucy -and Evelyn sat at some distance, apparently deep in the study of -Baedeker, and in a far-off corner an old gentleman was reading his -newspaper. - -The story came rather incoherently at last, but the thread was simple -enough. - -The boy had an only sister, a very delicate girl, who had been -ordered to spend the winter at San Remo. He had taken her there, had -seen her safely installed, and--had met an acquaintance who had -persuaded him to spend a night at Monte Carlo on the way home. From -that point on, of course, the story needed no telling. But the -practical upshot of it was that the boy had in his purse, at that -moment, precisely sixty-five centimes in money, and a -twenty-five-centime stamp; he had nothing wherewith to pay the -journey home, and he was some pounds in debt to his friend. - -Truly, all things are relative in life. While some men were -forfeiting their thousands at the tables with comparative equanimity, -this lad was wellnigh losing his reason for the sake of some fifteen -pounds. - -"What friends had he at home?" was of course Lady Munro's first -question. "Had he a father--a mother?" - -His mother was dead, and his father--his father was very stern, and -not at all rich. It had not been an easy matter for him to send his -daughter to the Riviera. - -"That is what makes it so dreadful," said the lad. "I wish to heaven -I had taken a return ticket! but I wanted to go home by steamer from -Marseilles. The fatal moment was when I encroached on my -journey-money. After I had done that, of course I had to go on to -replace it: but the luck was dead against me. Oh, if I could only -recall that first five francs! If I could have foreseen this--but I -meant----" - -"You meant to win, of course," said Lady Munro kindly. - -The boy laughed shamefacedly, in the midst of his misery. - -"Well, I think my punishment equals my sin," he said. "I would -gladly live on bread and water for months, if I could undo two days -of my life. I keep thinking round and round in a circle, till I am -nearly mad. I cannot write to my father, and yet what else can I do?" - -Lady Munro was silent for a few minutes when the lad had finished -speaking. She was wondering what Sir Douglas would say. When a -married woman is called upon to help her fellows, she has much to -think of besides her own generous impulses; and in Lady Munro's case -it was well perhaps that this was so. She would empty her purse for -the needy as readily as she would empty it for some jewel that took -her fancy, sublimely regardless in the one case as in the other of -the wants of the morrow. Ah, well! it is a good thing for mankind -that a perfect woman is not always essential to the _rôle_ of -ministering angel! - -"I will try to help you," she said at last, "though I cannot -absolutely promise. In the meantime here is a napoleon. That will -take you to Cannes, and pay for a night's lodging. Call on me -to-morrow between ten and eleven." She handed him her card. "I -think," she added as an afterthought, "you will promise not to enter -the Casino again?" - -It was very characteristic of her to ask as a favour what she might -have demanded as a condition. The boy blushed crimson as he took the -napoleon. "You are very kind," he said nervously. "Thank you. I -won't so much as look at the Casino again." - -"Well, Miss Lucy, a pretty scrape you have got me into!" said Lady -Munro, as she joined the girls. "It will take fifteen pounds to set -that boy on his feet again." - -"Tell us all about it," said Lucy eagerly. "Who is he?" - -"His name is Edgar Davidson, and he is a medical student." - -"I knew it! No wonder I was interested in a brother of the cloth! -What hospital?" - -"I don't know." - -"Is he going in for the colleges or for the university?" - -"My dear child, how should I think of asking?" - -"I suppose mother did not even enquire who his tailor was," said -Evelyn quietly. - -"I don't mind about his tailor, but it would interest me to know -where he gets his scalpels sharpened. What brings him here during -term?" - -Lady Munro had just time to give a sketch of the lad's story, when -they arrived at the door of the concert-hall--wonderful alike for its -magnificence and its vulgarity--to find the orchestra already -carrying away the whole room with a brilliant, piquant, irresistible -_pizzicato_. - -"Do take a back seat, mother," whispered Evelyn; "we can't have Lucy -dancing right up the hall." - -Lucy shot a glance of lofty scorn at her friend. - -"I am glad at least that Providence did not make me a lamp-post," she -said severely. - -The last note of the piece had not died away, when a young man came -forward and held out his hand to Lady Munro. - -"Why, Mr Monteith, my husband has just gone to your hotel." - -"Yes; he told me you were here, so I left him and my father together." - -He shook hands with the two girls, and seated himself beside Lucy. - -"You here?" she said with an air of calm indifference, which was very -unlike her usual impulsive manner. - -"Nay, it is I who should say that. You here? And you leave me to -find it out by chance from Sir Douglas?" - -"It did not occur to me that you would be interested," and she fanned -herself very gracefully, but very unnecessarily, with her programme. - -"Little coquette!" thought Lady Munro. But Lucy looked so charming -at the moment, that not even a woman could blame her. - -"How is Cannes looking?" - -"Oh, lovely--lovelier than ever. Some awfully nice people have come." - -"So you don't miss any of those who have gone?" - -"Not in the least." - -"And you would not care to see any old friend back again for a day or -two?" - -There was a moment's pause. - -"I don't think there would be room; the hotel seems full----" - -With a sudden burst of harmony the music began, and there was no more -conversation till the next pause. - -"Have you ever walked up to the chapel on the hill again?" - -"Oh, lots of times!" - -"You have been energetic. Have you chanced to see the Maritime Alps -in the strange mystical light we saw that day?" - -"Yes. They always look like that." - -"Curious! Then I suppose the walk has no longer any associations----" - -"Oh, but it has--bitter associations! We left the path to get some -asparagus, and my gown caught in a bramble-bush, and a dog barked----" - -The first soft notes of the violins checked the tragic sequel of her -tale, and the music swelled into a pathetic wailing waltz, which -brought the first part of the programme to an end. - -Sir Douglas came during the interval to take them away, and Mr -Monteith walked down with them to the station. - -"I am sorry there is no room for me at the hotel," he said, as he -stood with Lucy on the platform. - -"Pray, don't take my word for it. I don't 'run the shanty.' Perhaps -you could get a bed." - -"What is the use, if people would be sorry to see an old -acquaintance?" - -"How can you say such things?" said Lucy, looking up at him -cordially. "I am sure there are some old ladies in the hotel who -would be delighted to see you." - -"But no young ones?" - -"I can't answer for them." - -"You can for yourself." - -"Oh yes." - -"And you don't care one way or the other?" - -"No;" she shook her head slowly and regretfully. - -"Not at all?" - -"Not at all." - -"Not the least bit in the world?" - -Lucy lifted her eyes again demurely. "When one comes to deal with -such very small quantities, Mr Monteith," she said, "it is difficult -to speak with scientific accuracy. If you really care to know----" - -"Yes?" - -"Where are the Munros?" - -"In the next carriage. Do finish your sentence." - -"I don't remember what I was going to say," said Lucy calmly. "A -sure proof, my old nurse used to tell me, that it was better unsaid." - -She sprang lightly up the high step of the carriage, and then turned -to say good-bye. The colour in her cheeks was very bright. - -Ten minutes later she seemed to have forgotten everything except the -wonderful afterglow, which reddened the rocks and trees, and -converted the whole surface of the sea into one blazing ruby shield. - -Sir Douglas was nodding over his newspaper. Lucy laid her hand on -Lady Munro's soft fur. - -"You have been very good to me," she said. "I don't know how to -thank you. I really think you have opened the gates of Paradise to -me." - -The words suggested a meaning that Lady Munro did not altogether -like, but she answered lightly,-- - -"It has been a great pleasure to all of us to have you, dear; but you -know we don't mean to let you go on Thursday." - -Lucy smiled. "I must," she said sadly. "A week hence it will all -seem like a beautiful dream--a dream that will last me all my life." - -"Well, I am glad to think the roses in your cheeks are no dream, and -I hope they will last you all your life, too." - -And then the careless words re-echoed through her mind with a deeper -significance, and she wished Sir Douglas would wake up and talk, even -if it were only to grumble. - - -That night there were two private conversations. - -Evelyn had gone into Lucy's room to brush her hair in company. - -"What a touching sight!" said Lucy, laughing suddenly, as, by the -dancing firelight, she caught sight of the two fair young figures in -the mirror--their loosened hair falling all about their shoulders. -"Come on with your confidences! Now is the time. At least so they -say in books." - -"Unfortunately I have not got any confidences." - -"Nor have I--thank heaven!" She bent low over the glowing wood-fire. -"What slavery love must be!" - -Evelyn watched her with interest, but Lucy's next words were somewhat -disappointing. - -"Evelyn," she said, "how is it Mona has contrived to charm your -father so? I need not tell you what I think about her, but, broadly -speaking, she is not a man's woman, and I should not have fancied she -was the sort of girl to fetch Sir Douglas at all." - -"I don't think it strange," said Evelyn languidly. "I have often -thought about it. You see, she is very like what my mother must have -been at her age, though not nearly so charming to mere acquaintances; -and then just where the dear old Mater stops short, the real Mona -begins. It must be such a surprise to Father!" - -"That is ingenious, certainly. How Mr Monteith admires your mother!" - -"Does he?" - -"I wonder what he would think of Mona!" - -"I can't guess." - -"Have you known him long?" - -"Father and Mother have known his father long." - -"Do you think he is honest?" - -"Which?" - -"The son, of course." - -"He never stole anything from me." - -"Don't be a goose! Do you think he means what he says?" - -Evelyn paused before replying. - -"You don't?" said Lucy quickly. - -"I was trying to remember anything he did say," Evelyn answered very -deliberately. "The only remark I can remember addressed to myself -was, 'Brute of a day, isn't it?' I think he meant that. He -certainly looked as if he did." - - -"Douglas," said Lady Munro, "would Colonel Monteith allow his son to -marry Lucy Reynolds?" - -"Nonsense! what ideas you do take into your head!" - -"Because, if he would not, things have gone quite far enough. George -said something to me about coming back to Cannes for a day or two. -Of course that child is the attraction. If you think it will end in -nothing, he must not come." - -"So that is what her vocation amounts to!" - -"My dear Douglas! what does she know of life? She is a child----" - -"Precisely, and her father is another. God bless my soul! -Monteith's son must marry an heiress." - -Lady Munro did not pursue the subject; she had something else to talk -of. She rose presently, and walked across the room. - -"Douglas," she said, stopping idly before the glass, "I wish you -would give me your recipe for looking youthful. You will soon look -younger than your wife." - -"Nonsense," he said gruffly, but he smiled. His wife did not often -make pretty speeches now-a-days. As it happened she was looking -particularly young that night, too. Perhaps that fact had struck -her, and had suggested the remark. - -For half an hour they chatted together, as they might have done in -the old, old days, and then---- - -And then Lady Munro broached the subject of the boy at Monte Carlo. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI. - -NORTHERN MISTS. - -It seems gratuitously cruel to take my readers back to bleak old -Borrowness in this dreary month of December: away from the roses and -the sunshine, and the wonderful matchless blue, to the mud, and the -mist, and the barren fields, and the cold, grey sea. - -Princely, luxurious Cannes! Home of the wealth of nations! stretched -out at ease like a beautiful woman, along the miles of wooded hill -that embrace the bay. Homely, work-a-day Borrowness! stooping down -all unseen, shrouded in northern mists, to gather its daily bread. -Do you indeed belong to the same world? feel the same needs? share -the same curse? Do the children play on the graves in the one as in -the other? in both do man and maid touch hands and blush and wonder? -Is there canker at the core of the luscious glowing fruit? is there -living sap in the heart of the gnarled and stunted tree? Beautiful -Cannes! resting, expanding, enjoying, smiling! Brave little -Borrowness! frowning and panting and sighing, and wiping with weary -hand the sweat from a workworn brow! - -Christmas was drawing near, but it had been heralded by no fairy -frost, only by rain and fog and dull grey skies. Mona's life had -been unmarked by any event that had distinguished one day from -another. The last entry in the unwritten diary of her life was some -three weeks old, and consisted of one word in red -letters--_Stradivarius_. And yet the days had been so full, that, in -order to redeem her promise to Mr Reynolds, she had often found -herself constrained, when bedtime came, to rake together the embers -of the fire, and spend an hour over the mechanics of the circulation, -or the phenomena of isomerism. "Don't talk to me of the terpenes or -the recent work on the sugars," she wrote to a friend in London, who -had offered to send her some papers. "I have little time to read at -all; and when I do, I have sworn to keep to the beaten track. -Well-thumbed, jog-trot text-books for me; no nice damp Transactions! -Wae is me! wae is me! You must send your entrancing fairy tales to -some one else!" - -Trade had continued very brisk in the little shop; indeed its -character and reputation had completely changed. A few interesting -boxes had arrived from the Stores, and the local traveller no longer -had amusing tales to relate of the way in which Miss Simpson kept -shop. In fact, had it not been for his prospects in life, and for -his desire to spare the feelings of his family, he would have been -strongly tempted to offer his heart and hand to Miss Simpson's bright -and capable assistant. It would be an advantage in many ways to have -a wife who understood the business; and, poor thing, she would not -readily find a husband in Borrowness. She was thrown away at -present--there was no doubt of that. Why, with her quick head at -figures, and her fine lady manners, she could get a situation -anywhere. - -Mona, fortunately, was all unaware of the tempting fruit that dangled -just above her head. She had, it is true, some difficulty in keeping -the traveller to the point, when she had dealings with him; but her -limited intercourse with the other sex had not taught her to regard -this as peculiarly surprising. - -What rejoiced her heart, far more even than the success of the shop, -was the number of women and girls who had got into the way of -consulting her about all sorts of things. "I exist here now," she -wrote to Doris, "in the dual capacity of assistant to Miss Simpson, -and of general referee on the choice of new goods and the -modification of old ones. 'Goods' is a vague term, and is to be -interpreted very liberally. It includes not only dresses and bonnets -and furniture, but also husbands." - -Rachel did not at all approve of this large and unremunerative -_clientèle_. If there had been any question of "honesty and religion -like," it would have been different; but she considered that the -"hussies wasted a deal of Mona's time, when she might have been -better employed." - -To Matilda Cookson, of course, she objected less; but she never could -sufficiently express her wonder at Mona's inconsistency in this -respect. - -"As soon as the Cooksons begin to notice you, you just bow down like -all the rest, for all your fine talk," she said one day, in a moment -of irritation. - -Mona strove to find a gentle reply in vain, so, contrary to all her -principles, she was constrained to receive the remark in irritating -silence. - -Matilda Cookson had remained very true to her allegiance, and would -at this time have proved an interesting study to any psychologist -whose path she had chanced to cross. Almost at a glance he could -have divided all the opinions she uttered into two classes--those -that were her own, and those that were Mona's. The former were -expressed with timid deference; the latter were flung in the face of -her acquaintances, with a dogmatic air of finality that was none the -less irritating because the opinions themselves were occasionally -novel and striking. Matilda glowed with pride when she repeated a -bold and original remark; she stammered and blushed when one of her -own poor fledgelings stole into the light. It was on the former that -a rapidly developing reputation for "cleverness" was insecurely -based; it was the latter that delighted Mona's heart, and made her -intercourse with the girl a source of never-ceasing interest. It is -so easy to heap fuel on another mind; but to apply the first spark, -to watch it flicker, and glow, and catch hold--that is one of the -things that is worth living for. - -To one of Mona's _protégées_ Rachel never even referred, and that was -the girl who had fainted at the _soirée_. Mona had taken an interest -in her patient, had prescribed a course of arsenic and green -vegetables; and the improvement in the girl's appearance had seemed -almost miraculous. - -"She usedna tae be able tae gang up the stair wi'oot sittin' doon tae -get her breath," said her grandmother to Miss Simpson one day; "an' -noo, my word! she's awa' like a cat up a tree." - -Rachel carefully refrained from repeating this remark to Mona. She -was afraid that so surprising a result might encourage her cousin to -persevere in a work which Rachel fondly hoped had been relinquished -for ever. The good soul had been much depressed on chancing to see -the prescription which Mona had written for the girl. Why, it was a -real prescription--like one of Dr Burns'! When a woman had got the -length of writing _that_, what was the use of telling her she would -never make a doctor? What more, when you came to think of it, did -doctors do? There was nothing for it but to encourage Mr Brown, and -Rachel forthwith determined to invite him and his sisters to tea. - -The study of the _Musci_, _Algæ_, and _Fungi_ had not proved a -striking success hitherto. There had been one delightful ramble -among the rocks and pools, but since then the pursuit had somewhat -flagged. Several excursions had been arranged, but all had fallen -through. On one occasion Miss Brown had been confined to the house; -on another she had been obliged to visit an aunt who was ill; and on -a third the weather had been unpropitious. - -"My dear," said Rachel one day, after the formation of the bold -resolution above recorded, "if you are going in to Kirkstoun, you -might stop at Donald's on the Shore, and order some cookies and -shortbread. To-morrow's the day the cart comes round, and I'm -expecting Mr Brown and his sisters to tea." - -Mona nearly dropped the box of tape she was holding. - -"Dear cousin," she said, "the sisters have never called on you, have -they?" - -"No," replied Rachel frankly, "but one must make a beginning. They -offered us tea the day we were there." - -"I promised Mrs Ewing that I would play the organ for the choir -practice to-morrow evening." - -"Well, I'm sure I never heard the like! She just takes her use of -you." - -"You must not forget that she allows me to practise on the organ -whenever I like. It is an infinite treat to me." - -"And what's the use of it, I wonder? You can't take an organ about -with you when you go out to tea." - -"That's perfectly true," said Mona, laughing; "it is a selfish -pleasure, no doubt." - -"It all comes of your going to the English chapel in the evening. If -you'd taken my advice, you'd never have darkened its doors. They say -so much about Mr Ewing being a gentleman, but I do think it was a -queer-like thing their asking you to lunch, and never saying a word -about me. Mr Stuart doesn't set himself up for anything great, but -he did ask you to tea along with me." - -"The Ewings have not been introduced to you, dear." - -"And whose doing is that, I'd like to know? We've met them often -enough in the town." - -Mona sighed. She considered that lunch at the Ewings' the great -mistake of her life at Borrowness. She had resolved so heroically -that Rachel's friends were to be her friends; but the invitation had -been given suddenly, and she had accepted it. She had not stopped to -think of infant baptism, or the relations of Church and State; or the -propriety of a clergyman eking out his scanty stipend by raising -prize poultry, or of allowing himself to be "taken up" by the people -at the Towers; she had had a momentary mental vision of silky damask -and of sparkling crystal, of intelligent conversation and of cultured -voices, and the temptation had proved irresistible. The meek man -lives in history by his hasty word, the truthful man's lie echoes on -throughout the ages; the sin that is in opposition to our character, -and to the resolutions of a lifetime, stands out before all the world -with hideous distinctness. So in the very nature of things, if Mona -had gone to Borrowness, as she might have done, armed with -introductions to all the county families in the neighbourhood, Rachel -would have felt herself less injured than by that single lunch at the -Ewings'. - -"Well, I will order the things at Donald's," said Mona, after an -awkward silence. - -"Yes; tell him I'll take the shortbread in any case, but I'll only -take the cookies if my visitors come." - -"Oh, then they have not accepted yet?" - -"No." - -"Then I need not have distressed myself," thought Mona, "for they -certainly won't come." But she was annoyed all the same that Rachel -should have subjected herself to the unnecessary snub of a refusal. - -The refusal arrived that evening. It was worded with bare civility. -They "regretted that they were unable," but they did not think it -necessary to explain why they were unable. - -Rachel was very cross about the slight to herself, but she was not at -all disheartened about her plan. One trump-card was thrown away, but -she still held the king and the ace; the king was Mona's "tocher," -and the ace was Mr Brown himself. The original damp box of plants -had been followed by a number of others, and these had latterly been -hailed by Rachel with much keener delight than they had afforded to -Mona. Mr Brown was all right; there could be no shadow of doubt -about that; and Rachel would not allow herself to fancy for a moment -that Mona might be so blind to a sense of her own interests as to -side with the Misses Brown. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII. - -THE ALGÆ AND FUNGI. - -The bazaar as an institution is played out. There can certainly be -no two opinions about that. It has lived through a youth of humble -usefulness, a middle life of gorgeous magnificence, and it is now far -gone in an old age of decrepitude and shams. It has attained the -elaboration and complexity which are incompatible with farther -existence, and it must die. The cup of its abuses and iniquities is -full. It has had its day; let it follow many things better than -itself--great kingdoms, mighty systems--into the region of the things -that have been and are not. - -Yet even where the bazaar is already dead, we all seem to combine, -sorely against our will, to keep the old mummy on its feet. Nor is -the reason for our inconsistency far to seek. The bazaar _knows its -world_; there is scarcely a human weakness--a weakness either for -good or for evil--to which it does not appeal; so it dies hard, and, -in spite of ourselves, we cherish it to the last. - -How we hate it! How the very appearance of its name in print fills -our minds with reminiscences of nerve-strain, and boredom, and -shameless persecution! - -This being so, it is a matter of profound regret to me that a bazaar -should appear at all in the pages of my story; but it is bound up -inextricably with the course of events, so I must beg my readers to -bear up as best they may. - -"My dear," said Rachel, coming into the shop one day, eager and -breathless, "I have got a piece of news for you to-day. The Miss -Bonthrons want you to help them with their stall at the bazaar! It -seems they have been quite taken with your manner in the shop, and -they think you'll be far more use than one of those dressed-up -fusionless things that only want to amuse themselves, and don't know -what's left if you take three-and-sixpence from the pound. Of course -they are very glad, too, that you should have the ploy. I told them -I was sure you would be only too delighted. They were asking if -there was no word of your being baptised and joining the church yet." - -Mona bent low over her account-book, and it was a full minute before -she replied. Her first impulse was to refuse the engagement -altogether; her second was to accept with an indignant protest; her -third and last was to accept without a word. If she had been doomed -to spend a lifetime with Rachel, things would have been different; as -it was, there were not three more months of the appointed time to -run. For those months she must do her very utmost to avoid all cause -of offence. - -"I think a bazaar is the very last thing I am fitted for," she said -quietly; "but, if you have settled it with the Bonthrons, I suppose -there is nothing more to be said." - -"Oh, you'll manage fine, I'm sure. There's no doubt you've a gift -for that kind of thing. I can tell you there's many a one would be -glad to stand in your shoes. You'll see you'll get all your meals in -the refreshment-room for nothing, and a ticket for the ball as well." - -"I don't mean to go to the ball." - -"Hoots, lassie, you'll never stay away when the ticket costs you -nothing! I am thinking I might go myself, perhaps, to take care of -you, like. It'll be a grand sight, they say, and it's not often I -get the chance of wearing my green silk." - -Again the infinite pathos of this woman, with all her vulgar, -disappointed little ambitions, took Mona's heart by storm, as it had -done on the night of her arrival at Borrowness; and a gentle answer -came unbidden to her lips. - -That afternoon, however, she considered herself fully entitled to set -off and drink tea with Auntie Bell, and Rachel raised no objection -when she suggested the idea. - -"I would be glad if you would do a little business for me, as you -pass through Kilwinnie," she said. - -"I will, with pleasure." - -"Just go into Mr Brown's," she said, "and ask him if he still has -green ribbon like what he sold me for my bonnet last year. The -strings are quite worn out. I think a yard and a half should do. -I'll give you a pattern." - -Mona fervently wished that the bit of business could have been -transacted in any other shop, but it would not do to draw back from -her promise now. - -As she passed along the high street of Kilwinnie, she saw Miss -Brown's face at the window above the shop, and she bowed as she -crossed the street. Mr Brown was engaged with another customer, so -Mona went up to the young man at the opposite counter, thankful to -escape so easily. But it was no use. In the most barefaced way Mr -Brown effected an exchange of customers, and came up to her, his -solemn face all radiant with sudden pleasure. His eyes, like those -of a faithful dog, more than atoned at times for his inability to -speak. - -"How is Miss Simpson?" he asked. This was his one idea of making a -beginning. - -"She is very well, thank you," and Mona proceeded at once with the -business in hand. - -They had just settled the question, when, to Mona's infinite relief, -Miss Brown tripped down the stair leading into the shop. - -"Won't you come up-stairs and rest for ten minutes, Miss Maclean?" -she said. "We are having an early cup of tea. No, no, Philip, we -don't want you. Gentlemen have no business with afternoon tea." - -Mona could not have told what induced her to accept the invitation. -She certainly did not wish to do it. Perhaps she was glad to escape -on any terms from those pathetic brown eyes. - -Mr Brown's face fell, then brightened again. - -"Perhaps while you are talking, you will arrange for another walk," -he said. - -Mona followed Miss Brown up the dark little stair into the house, and -they entered the pleasant sitting-room. The ladies of the house -received their visitor cordially, and proceeded to entertain her with -conversation, which seemed to be friendly, if it was neither -_spirituel_ nor very profound. Presently it turned on the subject of -husband-hunting. - -"Now, Miss Maclean," said one, "would you call my brother an -attractive man?" - -Mona was somewhat taken aback by the directness of the question. - -"I never thought of him in that connection," she answered honestly. - -"Well, you know, he is not a marrying man at all. Anybody can see -that; and yet you would not believe me if I were to tell you the -number of women who have set their caps at him. Any other man would -have his head turned completely; but he never seems to see it. We -get the laugh all to ourselves." - -"Clever as he is," put in another sister, "he is a regular simpleton -where women are concerned. He treats them just as if they were men, -and of course they take advantage of it, and get him talked about and -laughed at." - -"We tell him it really is too silly," said the third, "that, after -all his experience, he should not know how to take care of himself." - -Mona turned very pale, but she answered thoughtfully. - -"When you asked me whether I considered if Mr Brown an attractive -man, I was inclined at first to say no; but what you say of him -crystallises my ideas somewhat. I think his great attraction lies in -the fact that he can meet women on common ground, without regard to -sex. He realises, perhaps, that a woman may care for knowledge, and -even for friendship, as well as for a husband. I should not try to -change him, if I were you. His views may be peculiar here, but they -are not altogether uncommon among cultured people." - -She said the last words gently, with a pleasant smile, and then -proceeded to put on her furs with an air of quiet dignity that would -not have discredited Lady Munro herself, and that seemed to throw the -Browns to an infinite distance. - -It was some moments before any of them found voice. - -"Must you go?" said the eldest at last, somewhat feebly. "Won't you -take another cup of tea?" - -"Thank you very much, but I am on my way to drink tea with Mrs -Easson." - -"Queer homely body, isn't she?" said the second sister, recovering -herself. "She is your cousin, is she not?" - -"I am proud to say she is." - -"Oh, we've never arranged about the walk," said the youngest. "Any -day next week that will suit you, will suit me." - -"Oh, thank you; I am afraid this wonderful bazaar is going to absorb -all our energies for some time to come. I fear the walk will have to -be postponed indefinitely." - -She shook hands graciously with her hostesses, and went slowly down -by the stair that opened on the street. - -"If I were five years younger," she said to her herself, "I should be -tempted to encourage Mr Brown, just the least little bit in the -world, and then----" - -But not even when Mona was a girl could she have been tempted, for -more than a moment, to avenge a petty wrong at the expense of those -great, sad eyes. - -Mr Brown had been looking out, and he came forward to meet her, -nervous, eager. - -"Have you arranged a day?" he asked. - -"No; I fear I am going to be very busy for the next few weeks. It is -very kind of you to suggest another walk. Good-bye." - -She was unconscious that her whole manner and bearing had changed in -the last quarter of an hour, but he felt it keenly, and guessed -something of what had happened. - -"Miss Maclean," he said hoarsely, grasping the hand she tried to -withdraw, "what do we want with one of them in our walks? Come with -me. Come up-stairs with me now, and we'll tell them----" - -"I have stayed too long already," said Mona hastily; "good-bye." And -without trusting herself to look at him again, she hurried away. - -Her cheeks were very bright, and her eyes suffused with tears, as she -continued her walk. - -"How disgraceful!" she kept repeating; "how disgraceful! I must have -been horribly to blame, or it never would have come to this." - -But, as usual, before long her sense of the comic came to her rescue. - -"Verily, my dear," she said, with a heavy sigh, "the study of the -_Algæ_ and _Fungi_ is a large one, and leads us further than we -anticipated." - - -Auntie Bell would not have been the shrewd woman she was, if she had -not seen at a glance that something was wrong with her darling; but -she showed her sympathy by hastily "masking the tea," and cutting -great slices from a home-made cake. - -"Eh, but ye're a sicht for sair een!" she said, as she bustled in and -out of the sitting-room. "I declare ye're bonnier than iver i' that -fur thing. Weel, hoo's a' wi' ye?" - -"Oh, I am blooming, as you see. Rachel is well, too." - -"An' what w'y suld she no' be weel? She's no' i' the w'y o' daein' -onything that's like to mak' her ill, I fancy, eh? Hae ye been efter -the butterflies again wi' Maister Broon?" - -The unexpected question brought the tell-tale colour to Mona's cheek. - -"No," she said, "I am not going any more. It is not the weather for -that sort of thing." - -"Na," said Auntie Bell tersely; "nor he isna the mon for that sort o' -thing. He's a guid mon, nae doot, an' a cliver, they say, for a' -he's sae quite an' sae canny, an' sae ta'en up wi's beasts and -things; but he's no' the mon for the like o' you. Ye wadna tak' him, -Mona?" - -"Dear Auntie Bell," said Mona abashed, "such a thing never even -occurred to me----" - -She did not add "until," but her honest face said it for her. - -"He's no' been askin' ye?" - -"No, no," said Mona warmly, "and he never will. Can a man and woman -not go 'after the butterflies,' as you call it, without thinking of -love and marriage?" - -Auntie Bell's face was worth looking at. - -"I nae ken," she said grimly; "I hae ma doots." - -"Well, I assure you Mr Brown has not even mentioned such a thing to -me." - -Auntie Bell eyed her keenly through the gold spectacles, but Mona did -not flinch. - -"Then his sisters have," thought the old woman shrewdly. "I'll gie -them a piece o' ma mind the neist time I'm doun the toun." - -Mona's visits were necessarily very short on these winter afternoons, -and as soon as tea was over she rose to go. - -"Are ye aye minded tae gang hame come Mairch?" said Auntie Bell. - -"Oh yes, I cannot possibly stay longer." - -"What's to come o' the shop?" - -"I will look out for an intelligent young person to fill my place." - -"Ay, ye may luik! Weel, I'll no' lift a finger tae gar ye bide. -Yon's no' the place for ye. But I nae ken hoo I'm tae thole wi'oot -the sicht o' yer bonny bricht een." - -"Dear Auntie Bell," said Mona affectionately, "you are coming to see -me, you know." - -"Me! hoot awa', lassie! It's a far cry tae Lunnon, an' I'm ower auld -tae traivel ma lane." - -They were standing by the open door, and the moonlight fell full on -the worn, eager face. - -"Then come with me when I go. I can't tell you how pleased and proud -I should be to have you." - -The old woman's face beamed. "Ay? My word! an' ye'd tak' me in a -first-cless cairriage, and treat me like a queen, I'll be boun'. Mrs -Dodds o' the neist fairm is aye speirin' at me if I'll no' gang wi' -the cheap trip tae Edinbury for the New Year. I'll tell her I could -gang a' the w'y tae Lunnon, like a leddy, an' no' be the puirer for -the ootin' by ae bawbee." - -She executed a characteristic war-dance in the moonlight. "Aweel," -she resumed, with sudden gravity, "ye'll mind me tae Rachel, and tell -her auld Auntie Bell's as daft as iver!" - -"Well, you promised to dance at my wedding, you know," and, waving -her hand, Mona set off with a light, quick step. - -Her thoughts were very busy as she hastened along, but her decision -was made before she reached home. "I will write a short note to Mr -Brown to-night," she said, "and tell him I find life too short for -the study of the _Algæ_ and _Fungi_." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVIII. - -THE BAZAAR. - -It was the first day of the bazaar. - -The weather was mild and bright, and the whole town wore an aspect of -excitement. The interior of the hall was not perhaps a vision of -artistic harmony; the carping critic might have seen in it a striking -resemblance to the brilliant, old-fashioned patchwork quilt which -some good woman had sent as her contribution, and which was now being -subjected to a fire of small wit and adverse criticism, in the -process of being raffled; but, to the inhabitants of the place, such -a sight was worth crossing the county to behold, and indeed, at the -worst, it was a bright and festive scene with its brave bunting and -festoons of evergreens. - -"Let Kirkstoun flourish!" was inscribed in letters of holly along the -front of the gallery, in which a very fair brass band, accustomed -apparently to performing in the open air, was pouring forth jaunty -and dashing national music, which fell with much acceptance on -well-balanced nerves. - -The bazaar had formally been declared open by the great local patron, -Sir Roderick Allison of Balnamora, and already the crowd was so great -that movement was becoming difficult. Whatever Mona's feelings had -been before the "function" came on, she was throwing herself into it -now with heart and soul. All the day before she had been hard at -work, draping, arranging, vainly attempting to classify; and the -Bonthrons had many times found occasion to congratulate themselves on -their choice of an assistant. The good ladies had very shyly offered -to provide her with a dress for the occasion,--"something a little -brighter, you know, than that you have on; not but what that's very -nice and useful." - -"Thank you very much," Mona had replied frankly. "I should be very -glad to accept your kind offer, but I have something in London which -I think will be suitable. I will ask a friend to send it." - -So now she was looking radiant, in a gown that was quiet enough too -in its way, but which was so obviously a creation that it excited the -attention of every one who knew her. - -"She _does_ look a lady!" said the Miss Bonthron with the eyeglass. - -"Well, my dear," replied the one with the curls, "she might have -_been_ a lady, if her father had lived. They say he was quite a -remarkable man, like his father before him. Where would we be -ourselves if Father had not laid by a little property? I suppose it -is all ordained for the best." - -"I call it simply ridiculous for a shop-girl to dress like that," -said Clarinda Cookson to her sister. "It is frightfully bad taste. -Anybody can see that she never had on a dress like that in her life -before. She means to make the most of this bazaar. It is a great -chance for her." - -Matilda bit her lip, and did not answer. By dint of long effort, -silence was becoming easier to her. - -And now none of the stall-holders had any leisure to think of dress, -for this was the time of day when the people come who are really -prepared to buy, independently of the chance of a bargain; and money -was pouring in. Mona was hard at work, making calculations for her -patronesses, hunting for "something that would do for a gentleman," -sympathising with the people who were strongly attracted by a few, -and a few things only, on her stall, and those the articles that were -ticketed "sold,"--striving, in short, for the moment, to be all -things to all men. - -She felt that day as if she had received a fresh lease of youth. -Nothing came amiss to her. She was the life and soul of her corner -of the hall, much to the delight of Doris, who, fair, serene, and -sweet, was watching her friend in every spare moment from the -adjoining stall. Perhaps the main cause conducing to Mona's good -spirits was the fact that Rachel was confined to the house with a -cold. Mona was honestly and truly sorry for her cousin's -disappointment; she would gladly have borne the cold and confinement -vicariously; but as that was impossible--well, it was pleasant for a -day or two to be responsible only for her bright young self. - -In a surprisingly short time the ante-prandial rush was over, and -there was a comparative lull, during which stall-holders could -compare triumphant notes, or even steal away to the refreshment-room. -But now there was a sudden stir and bustle at the door. - -"Well, I declare," exclaimed Miss Bonthron eagerly, "if this is not -the party from the Towers!" - -The two great local magnates of the neighbourhood were Sir Roderick -Allison of Balnamora and Lord Kirkhope of the Towers. Sir Roderick, -in his capacity of member for the eastern part of the county, took an -interest in all that went on in the place; and although his presence -at public gatherings was always considered a great honour, it was -treated very much as a matter of course. The Kirkhopes, on the other -hand, lived a frivolous, fashionable, irresponsible life; -acknowledged no duties to their social inferiors, and were content to -show their public spirit by permitting an occasional flower-show in -their grounds; so, if on any occasion they did go out of their way to -grace a local festivity, their presence was considered an infinitely -greater triumph than was that of good bluff Sir Roderick. The -parable of the prodigal son is of very wide application; and, where -humanity only is concerned, its interpretation is sometimes a very -sinister one. - -Lady Kirkhope had filled her house with a large party of people for -the Christmas holidays; and some sudden freak had induced her to -bring a number of them in to the Kirkstoun Bazaar, just as a few -months earlier she had taken her guests to the fair at St Rules, to -see the fat woman and the girl with two heads. "Anything for a -lark!" she used to say, and it might have been well if all the -amusements with which she sought to while away her sojourn in the -country had been as rational as these. As it was, good, staid -country-people found it a little difficult sometimes to see exactly -wherein the "lark" consisted. Even this fact, however, tended rather -to increase than to diminish the excitement with which the great -lady's arrival was greeted at the bazaar. - -Mona, not being a native, was but little interested in the -new-comers, save from a money-making point of view; and she was -leaning idly against the wall, half-smiling at the commotion the -event had caused, when all at once her heart gave a leap, and the -blood rushed madly over her face. Within twenty yards of her, in -Lady Kirkhope's party, chatting and laughing, as he used to do in the -good old days, stood the Sahib. There was no doubt about it. A -correct morning dress had taken the place of the easy tweeds and the -old straw hat, but the round, brotherly, boyish face was the same as -ever. The very sight of it called up in Mona's mind a flood of happy -reminiscences, as did the friendly face of the moon above the -chimney-pots to the home-sick author of _Bilderbuch_. - -Oh, it was good to see him again! For one moment Mona revelled in -the thought of all they would have to say to each other, and then---- - -"My dear," said Miss Bonthron, "I think you have some little -haberdashery-cases like this in your shop. How much do you think we -might ask for it?" - -Like the "knocking at the door in _Macbeth_," the words brought Mona -back to a world of prose realities. With swift relentless force the -recollection rushed upon her mind that the Sahib had come with the -"county people" to honour the bazaar with his presence; while she was -a poor little shop-girl, who had been asked to assist, partly as a -great treat, and partly because of her skill in subtracting -three-and-sixpence from the pound. - -"Half-a-crown we price them. I think you might say three shillings -here," she said, smiling; but deep down in her mind she was thinking, -"Oh, I hope, I hope he won't notice me! Doris is bad enough, but -picture the Sahib in the shop!" She broke into a little laugh that -was half a sob, and her eyes looked suspiciously bright. - -"Mona," said Doris, coming up to her suddenly, "somebody is looking -very charming to-day, do you know?" - -"Yes," said Mona boldly, flashing back the compliment in an admiring -glance; "I have been thinking so all morning, whenever intervening -crowds allowed me to catch a glimpse of her." - -"I have been longing so to say to all the room, 'Do you see that -bright young thing? She is a medical student!'" - -"Pray don't!" said Mona, horrified. "My cousin would never forgive -you--nor, indeed, for the matter of that, should I. How are you -getting on?" - -"My dear," was the reply, "I have sold more rubbish this morning than -I ever even saw before. After all, the secret of success at bazaars -lies solely in the fact that there is no accounting for taste!" - -At this moment a customer claimed Mona's attention, and, when she -looked up again, Doris was in earnest conversation with an elderly -gentleman. Mona overheard something about "women's power." - -"Women," was the reply, delivered with a courteous bow, "have no -power, they have only influence." - -Doris flushed, then said serenely, "We won't dispute it. Influence -is the soul, of which power is the outward form." - -How sweet she looked as she stood there, her flower-like face -uplifted, her dimpled chin in air, shy yet defiant! Mona thought she -had never seen her friend look so charming, so utterly unlike -everybody else. A moment later she perceived that she was not alone -in her admiration. Unconscious that he was observed, a man stood a -few yards off, listening to the conversation with a comical -expression of amused, admiring interest; and that man was the Sahib. - -Take your eyes off him, Mona, Mona, if you do not wish to be -recognised! Too late! A wave of sunlight rushed across his face, -kindling his homely features into a glow that gladdened Mona's heart, -and swept away all her hesitation. Verily she could trust this man, -whom all women looked upon as a brother. - -He resolutely dismissed the sunshine from his face, however, as he -came up and shook hands. He could not deny that he was glad to see -her, but nothing could alter the fact that she had treated him very -badly. - -"I called on you in London," he said in an injured tone, after their -first greetings had been exchanged, "but it was a case of 'Gone; no -address.'" - -"Oh, I am sorry," said Mona. "It never occurred to me that you would -call." - -He looked at her sharply. Her regret was so manifest that he could -not doubt her sincerity; and yet it was difficult sometimes to -believe that she was not playing fast and loose. It was not as if -she were an ordinary girl, ready to flirt with any man she met. Was -it likely, after all they had said to each other in Norway, that he -would let her slip out of his life without a protest? Was it -possible that the idea of his calling upon her in London had never -crossed her mind? - -Mona was very far from guessing his thoughts. Strong in the -conviction that she was not a "man's woman," she expected little from -men, and counted little on what they appeared to give. She had a -feeling of warm personal friendship for the Sahib, but it had never -occurred to her to wonder what his feeling might be for her. Had -they met after a separation of ten years, she would have welcomed -with pleasure the cordial grasp of his hand; but that in the meantime -he should go out of his way to see her, simply, as she said, never -crossed her mind. - -"Who would have thought of meeting you at a bazaar?" he said. - -"It is I who should have said that. But, in truth, I am not here by -any wish of my own. The arrangement was made for me. I should have -looked forward to it with more pleasure if I had known I was to meet -you." - -His face brightened. "It is my turn now to protest that it is I who -should have said that! My hostess brought a party of us. I am -helping to spend Christmas in the old style at the Towers. Where are -you staying, or have you just come over for the function?" - -Mona's heart sank. "No; I am visiting a cousin in the neighbourhood." - -"Then I hope I may give myself the pleasure of calling. Have you had -lunch?" - -"Not yet." - -"That is right. I am sure you can be spared for the next quarter of -an hour." - -Mona introduced him to Miss Bonthron as a "family friend," and then -took his arm. Now that they had met, no ridiculous notions of -propriety should prevent their seeing something of each other. - -"Do you know Lady Kirkhope?" he asked, as he piloted the way through -the hall. - -"No. I had better tell you at once that I am not in the least likely -to know her; I----" - -"Lady Kirkhope," said the Sahib suddenly, stopping in front of a -vivacious dame, "I am sure you will be glad to make the acquaintance -of Miss Maclean. She is the daughter of Gordon Maclean, of whom we -were talking last evening." - -"Then I am proud to shake hands with her," said the lady graciously. -"There are very few men, Miss Maclean, whom I admire as I did your -father." - -A few friendly words followed, and then the Sahib and Mona continued -their way. - -"Oh, Mr Dickinson," said Mona, when they had reached the large -refreshment-room, and were seated in a deserted corner, "what _have_ -you done?" - -"Well, what have I done!" said the Sahib, in good-humoured -mystification. "I ought to have asked your permission before -introducing you in a place like this; but Lady Kirkhope is not at all -particular in that sort of way, and we met her so _à propos_. I am -sure you would not mind if you knew how she spoke of your father." - -"It is not that." Mona drew a long breath. "It is not your fault in -the least, but I don't think any human being was ever placed in such -a false position as I am." She hesitated. When she had first seen -the glad friendly smile on the Sahib's face, she had fancied it would -be so easy to tell him the whole story; but now the situation seemed -so absurd, so grotesque, so impossible, that she could not find words. - -"Mr Dickinson," she said at last, "Lady Munro really is my aunt." - -"She appears to be under a strong impression to that effect." - -"And Gordon Maclean was my father." - -"So I have heard." - -"And my mother, Miss Lennox, was a lady whom any one would have been -glad to know." - -"That I can answer for!" - -"But I never told you all that? I never traded on my relatives or -even spoke of them?" - -"I scarcely need to answer that question. Your exordium is striking, -but don't keep me in suspense longer than you can help." - -Mona did not join in his smile. - -"All that," she said with a great effort, "is true; and it is equally -true that at the present moment I am living with a cousin who keeps a -small shop at Borrowness. I have been asked to sell at this bazaar -simply because--_c'est mon mètier, à moi_. I ought to do it well. -Now you know why I did not wish to be introduced to Lady Kirkhope." - -It was a full minute before the Sahib spoke, and then his answer was -characteristic. - -"What on earth," he asked, "do you do it for?" - -Mona was herself again in a moment. - -"Why do I do it?" she said proudly. "Why should I not do it? My -cousin has as much claim on me as the Munros have, and she needs me a -great deal more. If I must stand or fall by my relatives, I choose -to fall with Rachel Simpson rather than to stand with Lady Munro." - -She rose to go, but he caught her hand. - -"You said once that you had no wish to measure your strength against -mine," he said, in a low voice. "I don't mean to let you go, so -perhaps you had better sit down. It would be a pity to have a scene." - -"Let my hand go in any case." - -"Honest Injun?" - -She yielded unwillingly with a laugh. - -"Honest Injun," she said. "As we are here, I will stay for ten -minutes," and she laid her watch on the table. - -"That is right. I never knew any difficulty that was made easier by -refusing to eat one's lunch." - -"I don't admit that I am in any difficulty, and your way, too, is -clear." She made a movement of her head in the direction of the -door. "I am only sorry that you did not give me a chance to tell you -all this before you introduced me to Lady Kirkhope. If I had known -you were coming, I should have given you a hint to avoid me." - -"Miss Maclean," he said, "will you allow me to say that you are a -little bit morbid?" - -She met his eyes with a frank full glance from her own. - -"That is true," she said, with sudden conviction. - -"And for a woman like you to see that you are morbid is to cease to -be morbid." - -"I am sure I don't want to be; but indeed it is so difficult to see -what is simple and right. I have often smiled to think how I told -you in summer, that the 'great, puzzling subject of compromise' had -never come into my life." - -"You said on the same occasion, if I remember rightly, that my life -was infinitely franker and more straightforward than yours. I -presume you don't say so still?" - -"I do, with all my heart." - -"H'm. Do you think it likely that I would go routing up poor -relations for the pleasure of devoting myself exclusively to their -society?" - -Mona's face flushed. "Mr Dickinson," she said, "I ought to tell you -that I arranged to come to my cousin before I met the Munros. I -don't say that I should not have done it in any case, but I made the -arrangement at a time when, with many friends, I was practically -alone in the world. And also,"--she thought of Colonel Lawrence's -story,--"even apart from the Munros, if I had known all that I know -now, about circumstances in the past, I am not sure that I should -have come at all. That is all my heroics are worth." - -"You are a magnificently honest woman." - -"I am not quite sure that I am not the greatest humbug that ever -lived. Two minutes more. Do you bear in mind that Lady Kirkhope -said she would call on me?" - -"I will see to that. Am I forgiven for introducing you to her?" - -Mona smiled. "I shall take my revenge by introducing you to a much -greater woman, my friend Doris Colquhoun." - -"When am I to meet you again? May I call?" - -"No." - -"How do you get home to-night?" - -"Miss Bonthron sends me in a cab." - -"Shall you be at the ball?" - -"No." - -"You can easily get a good chaperon?" - -"Oh yes." - -"Will you go to the ball if I ask it as a personal favour to me?" - -Mona reflected. "I don't see why I should not," she said simply. - -"Thank you. And in the meantime, Miss Maclean, don't be in too great -a hurry to stand or fall with anybody. You have not only yourself to -think of, you know; we are all members one of another. And now -behold your prey! Take me to your stall, and I will buy whatever you -like." - -The Sahib was not the only victim who yielded himself up unreservedly -to Mona's tender mercies that day. Mr Brown came to the bazaar in -the afternoon with a five-pound note in his pocket, and something -more than four pound ten was spent at Miss Bonthron's stall. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIX. - -THE BALL. - -A spacious hall with a well-waxed floor; a profusion of coloured -lights and hothouse plants; a small string-band capable of posing any -healthy, human thing under twenty-three with the reiterated query, -"Where are the joys like dancing?"--all these things may be had on -occasion, even in an old-world fishing town on the bleak east coast. - -For youth is youth, thank heaven! over all the great wide world; and -the sturdy, sonsy northern girl, in her spreading gauzy folds of -white or blue, is as desirable in the eyes of the shy young clerk, in -unaccustomed swallow-tails, as is the languid, dark-eyed daughter of -the South to her picturesque impassioned lover. Nay, the awkward -sheepish youth himself, he too is young, and, for some blue-eyed -girl, his voice may have the irresistible cadence, his touch the -magnetic thrill, that Romeo's had for Juliet. - -So do not, I pray you, despise my provincial ball, because the -dancing falls short alike in the grace of constant habit and in the -charm of absolute _naïveté_. The room is all aglow with youth and -life and excitement. One must be a cynic indeed not to take pleasure -in that. There is something beautiful too, surely, even in the proud -self-consciousness with which the "Provost's lady" steps out to head -the first quadrille with good Sir Roderick, and in the shy delight -with which portly dames, at the bidding of grey-haired sires, forget -the burden of years, and renew the days of their youth. - -At Doris's earnest request, Mona had come to the ball with her party, -for of course the Bonthrons disapproved of the whole proceeding. -Rachel had insisted on going to the bazaar on the last day, to see -the show and pick up a few bargains; and, as the hall was overheated, -and nothing would induce her to remove her magnificent fur-lined -cloak, she had caught more cold on returning to the open air. Mona -had offered very cordially to stay at home with her on the night of -the ball; but Rachel had been sufficiently ill to read two sermons in -the course of the day; and, in the fit of magnanimity naturally -consequent on such occupation, she had stoutly and kindly refused to -listen to a proposal which seemed to her more generous than it really -was. - -It was after ten when the party from the Towers entered the -brilliant, resounding, whirling room. The Sahib had half expected -that Lady Kirkhope, in her pursuit of a "lark," would accompany them; -but she "drew the line," she said, "at dancing with the grocer," so a -few of the gentlemen went alone. There was a good deal of amusement -among them as they drove down in the waggonette, on the subject of -the partners they might reasonably expect; and it was with no small -pride that the Sahib introduced them to Doris and Mona. - -Mona wore the gown in which Lucy had said she looked like an empress. -It was not suitable for dancing, but she did not mean to dance; and -certainly she in her rich velvet, and Doris in her shimmering silk, -were a wondrous contrast to most of the showily dressed matrons and -gauzy girls. - -Doris as usual was very soon the quiet little centre of an admiring -group; and even Mona, who had come solely to look on, and to enjoy a -short chat with the Sahib, received an amount of attention that -positively startled her when she thought of her "false position." - -Of course she was pleased. It seemed like a fairy tale, that almost -within a mile of the shop she should be received so naturally as a -lady and a woman of the world; but, in point of fact, the Cooksons -and Mrs Ewing were the only people who knew that she was Miss -Simpson's assistant. Her regular _clientèle_ was of too humble a -class socially to be represented at the ball; her acquaintances in -the neighbourhood were limited almost entirely to Rachel's friends -and the members of the Baptist Chapel,--two sections of the community -which were not at all likely to give support to such a festivity; and -even people who had seen her repeatedly in her everyday surroundings, -failed to recognise her in this handsome woman who had come to the -ball with a very select party from St Rules. - -Matilda glowed with triumph as she watched her friend move in a -sphere altogether above her own; she longed to proclaim to every one -how she had known all the time that Miss Maclean was a princess in -disguise. How aghast Clarinda would be at her own stupidity, and -with what shame she would recall her pointless sarcasms--Clarinda, -who that very evening had said, she at least gave the shop-girl the -credit of believing that the lace was imitation and the pearls false. - -The night was wearing on, and Mona was sitting out a galop with -Captain Steele, a handsome middle-aged man, whom the Sahib had -introduced to her. They were conversing in a gay, frivolous strain, -and Mona was reflecting how much easier it is to be entertaining in -the evening if one has not been studying hard all day. - -"Are you expecting any one?" asked the Captain suddenly. - -"No; why do you ask?" - -"You look up so eagerly whenever a new arrival is ushered in." - -"Do I? It must be automatic. I scarcely know any one here." - -But she coloured slightly as she spoke. His question made her -conscious for the first time of a wish away down in the depths of her -heart--a wish that Dr Dudley would come and see her small success. -He had seen her under such very different conditions; he might arrive -now any day in Borrowness for the Christmas holidays; why should he -not be here to-night? It was surely an innocent little wish as -wishes go; but on discovery it was treated ignominiously with speedy -and relentless eviction; and Mona gave all the attention she could -spare from the Captain's discourse to watching Doris and the Sahib. - -Poor little wish! Take a regret along with you. You were futile and -vain, for Dudley had a sufficiently just estimate of his capabilities -to abstain at all times from dancing; and at that moment, with fur -cap over his eyes, he was sleeping fitfully in the night express; and -yet perhaps you were a wise little wish, and how different things -might have been if you could have been realised! - -The wish was gone, however, and Mona was watching her friends. A -woman must be plain indeed if she is not to look pretty in becoming -evening dress; and Doris, in her soft grey silk, looked like a -Christmas rose in the mists of winter. She was talking brightly and -eagerly, and the Sahib was listening with a smile that made his -homely face altogether delightful. Mona wondered whether in all his -honest life he had ever looked at any other woman with just that -light in his eyes. "What a lucky man he will be who wins my Doris!" -she said to herself; and close upon that thought came another. "They -say matchmakers are apt to defeat their own ends, but if one praises -the woman to the man, and abuses the man to the woman, one must at -least be working in the right direction." - -With a burst of harmony the band began a new waltz. - -"Our dance, Miss Maclean," said the Sahib, coming up to her. "We are -going to wander off to some far-away committee-room and swop -confidences." - -"It sounds nice, but my confidences are depressing." - -"So are mine rather. Do you like this part of the world?" - -"Do I like myself, in other words? Not much." - -"Don't be philosophical. When all is said, there is nothing like -gossip. I don't like this part of the world; in fact, I don't know -myself in it; it is a fast, frivolous, imbecile world!" - -"Socially speaking, I presume, not geographically. At least, those -are not strictly the adjectives I should apply to my surroundings. -How come you to be in such a world?" - -"Oh, I met Kirkhope a few years ago. He was indulging in a -fashionable run across India, and he ran up against me. I was able -to put him up to a thing or two, and last month when I met him in -Edinburgh, he invited me down. In a weak moment I accepted his -invitation, and now you see Fortune has been kinder to me than I -deserve." - -"I saw you in Edinburgh as I went through one day," said Mona, and -she told him she had been disappointed not to be able to speak to him -at the station. - -"How very disgusting!" he said. "Yes, Edinburgh is my home--my -father's, at least." - -"And had you never met Doris before I introduced you to her?" - -The Sahib did not answer for a moment. - -"I had not been introduced. I had seen her. Hers is not a face that -one forgets." - -"And yet it only gives a hint of all that lies behind it. You might -travel from Dan to Beersheba without finding such a gloriously -unselfish woman, and such a perfect child of Nature." - -"She is delightfully natural and unaffected. I think that is her -great charm. What sort of man is Colquhoun? Of course every one -knows him by name." - -"Yes; he is very near the top of the tree in his profession. He is a -scientist, too, but in that capacity he is a trifle--pathetic. Shall -you call when you go back?" - -"I have obtained permission to do so." - -"You would do me a personal favour if you would enter into his -scientific fads a little. Dear lovable old man! You will have to -laugh in your sleeve pretty audibly before he suspects that you are -doing it." - -"I don't think I shall feel at all inclined to. Is Miss Colquhoun a -scientist too?" - -"She is something better. She loves a dog because it is a dog, a -worm because it is a worm. Science must stand cap in hand before -such genuine inborn love of Nature as hers." - -Again there was a pause before the Sahib answered. Then he roused -himself suddenly. - -"It seems to me, Miss Maclean, that you are shirking your part of the -bargain. I have confided to you how it is I come to be here. It is -your innings now." - -Mona sighed. - -"When I last saw you, you were a burning and shining medical light. -Wherefore the bushel?" - -"That is right. Strike hard at the root of my _amour propre_. It is -good for me, though I wince. I am here, Sahib, mainly because I -failed twice in my Intermediate Medicine examination." - -Another of the Sahib's characteristic pauses. - -"How on earth did you contrive to do it?" he asked at last. "When -one sees the duffers of men that pass----" - -The colour on Mona's cheek deepened. "I don't think a very large -proportion of duffers pass the London University medical -examinations," she said. "Of course one makes excuses for one's -self. One began hospital work too soon; one's knowledge was on a -plane altogether above the level of the examination papers, &c. It -is only in moments of rare and exceptional honesty that one says, as -I say to you now, 'I failed because I was a duffer, and did not know -my work.'" - -"Nay, you don't catch me with chaff. That is not the truth, and you -don't think it is. I don't call that honesty!" - -But although the Sahib spoke harshly, his heart was beating very -warmly towards her just then. He had always considered Mona a clever -and charming girl--a little too independent, perhaps, but her -habitual independence made it the more delightful to see her -submitting like a child to his questions, holding herself bound -apparently for the moment to answer honestly without fencing, however -much the effort might cost her. - -"It is the truth, and nothing but the truth." she said. "I venture -sometimes to think it is not the whole truth." - -"Shall you go in again?" - -"Yes." - -"When?" - -"July." - -"Do you think you will pass?" - -"No." - -"Then why do you do it?" - -"I have promised." - -Another long pause, and then it came unpremeditatedly with a rush. - -"Look here, Miss Maclean,--chuck the whole thing, and come back to -India with me!" - -It was so absolutely unexpected, that for a moment Mona thought it -was a joke. "That would be a delightfully simple way of cutting the -knot of the difficulty," she said gaily, but before her sentence was -finished she saw what he meant. She tried not to see it, not to show -that she saw it, but the blood rushed over her face and betrayed her. - -"Do come," he said. "Will you? I never cared for any woman as I -care for you." - -"Oh, Sahib," said Mona, "we cared for each other, but not in that -way. You have taught me all I have missed in not having a brother." - -She was not sorry for him; she was intensely annoyed at his -stupidity. Not for a moment did it occur to her that he might really -love her. He liked her, of course, admired her, sympathised with -her, at the present moment pitied her; but did he really suppose that -a woman might not gladly accept his friendship, admiration, sympathy, -even his pity, without wishing to have it all translated into the -vulgar tangible coin of an offer of marriage? Was marriage for a -woman, like money for a beggar, the sole standard by which all good -feeling was to be tried? - -She was not altogether at fault in her reading of his mind. The -Sahib's sister Lena was engaged to be married, and he had started on -his furlough with a vague general idea that if he could fall in love -and take a wife back with him to India, it would be a very desirable -thing. Such an idea is as good a preventive to falling in love as -any that could be devised. - -Among the girls he had met, Miss Maclean was undoubtedly _facile -princeps_. In many respects she was cut out for the position; she -was one of those women who acquire a lighter hand in conversation as -they grow older, and who go on mellowing to a rich matronly maturity. -In Anglo-Indian society she would be something entirely new, and -three months in her own drawing-room would make a brilliant woman of -her. - -During all the autumn months, while he was shooting in Scotland, the -Sahib had delighted in the thought that he was deliberately keeping -away from her, and had delighted still more in the prospect of going -"all by himself" to call upon her in London, to see whether the old -impressions would be renewed in their full force. He had been -bitterly angry and disappointed when he failed to find her at Gower -Street, but the failure had gone very far to convince him that he -really did love her. - -And now had come this curious unexpected meeting at Kirkstoun. "Do -you see that--person in the fur cloak?" Mona had said to him when he -had dropped in for half an hour on the third day of the bazaar. -"Don't be alarmed; I don't mean to introduce you; but that is my -cousin. Now you know all that I can tell you." His momentary start -and look of incredulity had not been lost upon her; but he had -recovered himself in an instant, and had shown sufficient sense not -to attempt any remark. And in truth, although he had been surprised -and shocked, he had not been greatly distressed. "After all," he had -said, "anybody could rake up a disreputable forty-second cousin from -some ash-heap or other;" and the existence of such a person, together -with Mona's breakdown in her medical career, gave him a pleasant, -though unacknowledged, sense of being the knight in the fairy tale -who is to deliver the captive princess from all her woes. Moreover, -Mona's peculiar circumstances had brought about an intimacy between -them that might otherwise have been impossible. He had been admitted -into one of the less frequented chambers of her nature, and he said -to himself that it was a goodly chamber. It was pleasant to see the -colour rise into her cheeks, to hear her breath come quick while she -talked to him; and to-night--to-night she looked very beautiful, and -no shade of doubt was left on his mind that he loved her. - -"I suppose you are the best judge of your feelings towards me," he -said coldly; "but you will allow me to answer for mine." - -The Sahib was a good man, and a simple-hearted, but he knew his own -value, and it would have been strange if Mona's reply had not -surprised him. In fact he could only account for it on one -supposition, and that supposition made him very angry and indignant. -His next words were natural, if unpardonable. Perhaps Mona's -frankness was spoiling him. - -"Tell me," he said sharply, "in the old Norway days, when we saw so -much of each other, was there some one else then?" - -Mona drew herself up. "I do call that an insult," she said quietly. -"Do you suppose that every unmarried woman is standing in the -market-place waiting for a husband? Is it impossible that a woman -may prefer to remain unmarried for the sake of all the work in the -world that only an unmarried woman can do?" - -The Sahib's face brightened visibly for a moment. Perhaps it was -true, after all, that this clever woman was more of a child in some -respects than half the flimsy damsels in the ball-room. - -"Miss Maclean," he said, "bear with my dulness, and say to me these -five words, 'There is no one else.'" - -Mona lifted her honest eyes. - -"There is no one else," she said simply. - -"Thank you. Then if my sole rival is the work that only an unmarried -woman can do, I decline to accept your answer." - -"Don't be foolish, Mr Dickinson," said Mona gently. "You call me -honest, and in this respect I am absolutely honest. If there were -the faintest shadow of a doubt in my mind I would tell you. There -are very few people in the world whom I like and trust as I do you, -but I would as soon think of marrying Sir Douglas Munro. And -you--you are sacrificing yourself to your own chivalry. You want to -marry me because you are sorry for me, because I have muddled my own -life." - -"That is not true. My one objection to you is that you are twice the -man that I am." - -Mona laughed. "_Eh bien! L'un n'empêche pas l'autre_. No, no; you -are much too good a man to be thrown away on a woman who only likes -and trusts you." - -"When do you leave this place?" he asked doggedly. - -"In March." - -"And do you stop in Edinburgh on the way?" - -"Yes; I have promised to spend a week with the Colquhouns." - -"Good. I will ask you then again." - -"Dear Sahib," said Mona earnestly, "I have not spoilt your life yet. -Don't let me begin to spoil it now. You cannot afford to waste even -three months over a chivalrous fancy. Put me out of your mind -altogether, till you have married a bright young thing full of -enthusiasms, not a worn-out old cynic like me. Then by-and-by, if -she will let me be her sister, you and I can be brother and sister -again." - -"May I write to you during the next two months?" - -"I think it would be a great mistake." - -"Your will shall be law. But remember, I shall be thinking of you -constantly, and when you are in Edinburgh I will come. Shall we go -back to the ball-room?" He rose and offered her his arm. - -"Mr Dickinson, I absolutely refuse to leave the question open. What -is the use?" - -"You will not do even that for me?" - -"It would be returning evil for good." - -"No matter. The results be on my own head!" - -They were back in the noise and glare of the ball-room, and further -conversation was impossible. - -"Who would have thought of meeting two charming _émancipées_ down -here?" said Captain Steele, as the men drove back to the Towers. - -"If all _émancipées_ are like Miss Colquhoun," said a young man with -red hair and a retreating chin, "I will get a book and go round -canvassing for women's rights to-morrow!" - - - - -CHAPTER XL. - -A LOCUM TENENS. - -The excitement was over, and every one was suffering from a profound -reaction. Rachel's cold was no better, and her temper was decidedly -worse; for although the sermons still lay on her table, both they and -the illness that had brought them into requisition had lost the charm -of novelty. However--like the ravages of drink in relation to the -efforts of temperance reformers--it was of course impossible to say -how much worse she might have been without them. - -Mona had by no means escaped the general depression consequent on the -bazaar and the ball, and her cousin's querulousness was a heavy -strain upon her endurance. Fortunately, it had the effect of putting -her on her mettle. "I am certainly not fit to be a doctor," she -thought, "if I cannot bear and forbear in a simple little case like -this." So she went from shop to parlour, and from parlour to shop, -with a light step and a cheerful face, striving hard to keep Rachel -supplied with scraps of gossip that would amuse her without tempting -her to talk. - -"Mrs Smith has come to inquire for you," she said, as she entered the -close little sitting-room. "Do you think you ought to see her? You -know you made your chest worse by talking to Mrs Anderson the other -day." - -"And how am I to get well, I should like to know, mope, mope, moping -all by myself from morning till night? All these blessed days I've -sat here, while other folks were gallivanting about taking their -pleasure. It's easy for you to say, 'Don't see her,' after all the -ploy you've been having, and all the folk you are seeing in the shop -to-day." - -"Very well, I will bring her up; but do you let her talk, and save -your voice as much as you can." - -The interview was a long one, but it did not appear to have the -desired effect of improving Rachel's spirits. - -"Upon my word," she said, when the visitor had gone, "I never knew -anybody so close as you are. One would think, after all the pleasure -you've been having, while I've been cooped up in the house, that -you'd be glad to tell me any bit of news." - -"Why, cousin," laughed Mona, "what else have I been doing? I have -even told you what everybody wore!" - -"The like of that!" said Rachel scornfully; "and you never told me -you got the word of her ladyship? I wonder what Mrs Smith would -think of me knowing nothing about it?" - -Mona was puzzled for a moment. "Oh," she said suddenly, "Lady -Kirkhope! She only said a few words to me." - -"And how many would she say--the like of her to the like of you! I -suppose you think because your mother's sister is married on a Sir, -that their ladyships are as common as gooseberries. Much your -mother's sister has done for you--leaving you to take all sorts of -maggots into your head! But I've no doubt you think a sight more of -her than you do of me, for all the time you've been with me." - -This was the first time the Munros had been mentioned between the -cousins, and Mona was not anxious to pursue the subject. "Your -mother's sister married on a Sir." Oh, the sordidness of it! - -Mona had refused to see the Sahib again during his stay at the -Towers, and although she could not for a moment regret her refusal, -she was conscious of a distinct sense of emptiness in her life. -There was no doubt that for the moment she had lost her friend; and -perhaps things might never again be as they had been before his -clumsy and lamentable mistake. But although he was lost to her -directly, she was only now beginning to possess him through Doris. - -"He will see her constantly for the next two months," she thought, -"and he cannot but love her. He loves her now, if he only knew it. -It is absurd to suppose that he ever looked at me with that light in -his eyes. He analyses me, and admires me deliberately, but Doris -bowls him over. Whether she will care for him, is another question; -but I am sure he at least possesses the prime merit in her eyes of -being a Sir Galahad; and by the doctrine of averages, a magnificent -son of Anak like that cannot be refused by two sensible women within -the space of two months. He will consider himself bound to me of -course, but he will fall in love with her all the faster for that; -and at the appointed time he will duly present himself in much fear -and trembling lest I should take him at his word. How amusing it -will be!" And a cold little ray of sunshine stole across the chill -grey mists of her life. - -That day Rachel's appetite failed for the first time. Her face was -more flushed than usual, and her moist, flabby hands became dry and -hot. In some uneasiness Mona produced her clinical thermometer, and -found that her cousin's temperature had run up to 102°. - -"You are a little feverish, dear," she said lightly. "I don't think -it is going to be anything serious, but it will be wise to go to bed -and let me fetch the doctor. Shall I send Sally or go myself?" - -"Send Sally," was the prompt reply, "and let him find out for himself -that I am feverish. Don't tell him anything about that machine of -yours. He'd think it wasn't canny for the like of you." - -"I will do as you please, of course; but lots of people have -thermometers now, who know no more of medicine--than that spoon. Not -but what the spoon's experience of the subject has been both varied -and profound!" she added, smiling, as she remembered Rachel's love -for domestic therapeutica. - -Rachel smiled too at the feeble little joke. The knowledge that she -was really ill had improved her spirits wonderfully, partly by -gratifying her sense of self-importance, and partly by making the -occasion seem worthy of the manifestation of a little practical -Christianity. - -It was evening when the doctor arrived, and then, of course, he could -say but little. Milk diet, a cooling draught, no visitors, and -patience. He would call about noon the next day. - -"I fear you are as much in need of rest and care as my cousin is," -said Mona, when a fit of coughing interrupted his final directions to -her at the door. - -"I am fairly run off my feet," he said. "I have had a lot of -night-work, and now this bout of frivolity has given me a crop of -bronchial attacks and nervous headaches. I have got a friend to take -my work for a fortnight, but he can't come for a week or ten days -yet. I must just rub along somehow in the meantime. A good sharp -frost would do us all good; this damp weather is perfectly killing." - -As if in answer to his wish, the frost came that night with a will. -In the morning Mona found a tropical forest on her window-panes; and -in a moment up ran the curtains of the invisible. The shop and the -dingy house fell into their true perspective, and she felt herself a -sentient human being--dowered with the glorious privilege of living. - -Rachel was no better, and as soon as Mona had made her patient and -the room as neat and fresh as circumstances would allow, she set out -to do the marketing. "Send Sally," Rachel said; but customers never -came before ten, and Mona considered it the very acme of squalor to -leave that part of the housekeeping to chance, in the shape of a -thriftless, fusionless maid-of-all-work. She walked quickly through -the sharp frosty air, and came in with a sprinkle of snow on her dark -fluffy fur, and a face like a half-blown rose. - -"The doctor has just gone up-stairs," whispered Sally, and Mona -hastened up to find, not Dr Burns, but Dr Dudley. She was too much -taken by surprise to conceal the pleasure she felt, and, much as -Dudley had counted on this meeting, his brain well-nigh reeled under -the exquisite unconscious flattery of her smile. It was a minute -before he could control himself sufficiently to speak. - -"I am afraid Dr Burns is ill," said Mona, as she took his hand. - -"Yes, poor fellow! He is very much below par altogether, and he has -taken a serious chill, which has settled on his lungs. I fear it -will be some time before he is about again. A substitute will be -here in a week, I hope; and in the meantime, _nolens volens_, I am -thrust into the service. Thank you, Miss Simpson, that will do, I -think." He took the thermometer to the light, and then gave Mona a -few directions. "You have not got one of these things, I suppose?" -he said. - -"I never even had one in my hand," put in Rachel hastily. - -"You know you can easily get one," added Mona severely. - -"Oh, it's of no consequence. I think there is no doubt that this is -only a feverish cold. I wish I had no more serious case. Go on with -the mixture, but I should like Miss Simpson to take some quinine as -well. I have no doubt she will be about again in a few days." - -He wrote a prescription--very unnecessarily, Mona thought,--and then -she followed him down-stairs. When they reached the shop he -deliberately stopped, and turned to face her. He did not speak; his -mind was in a whirl. He was thinking no longer of the beauty of her -mind, and character, and face; he had ceased even to admire. He only -knew that he wanted her, that he had found her out, that she was his -by right; every other thought and feeling was merged in the -consciousness that he was alone with the woman he loved. Oh, how -good it was to lose one's self at last in a longing like this! - -His back was turned to the light, and Mona wondered why her -"playfellow" was so silent. - -"This is an unfortunate holiday for you," she said. - -He shook himself out of his dream, and answered gaily, "Oh, I don't -know. This sort of thing is a rest in one way at least,--it does not -call the same brain-cells into requisition, and it gives me a little -anticipation of the manhood my cursed folly has postponed." - -Of course the humble words were spoken very proudly; and he looked -every inch a man even to eyes that still retained a vivid picture of -the Sahib. His shoulders seemed more broad and strong in the heavy -becoming Inverness cape, he held himself more upright than formerly, -and his face had gained an expression of quiet self-confidence. - -"Work suits you," said Mona, smiling. - -"That it does!" He brought his closed fist vehemently down upon the -counter. "When my examination is over, Miss Maclean, I shall be a -different being,--in a position to do and say things that I dare not -do and say now." - -He spoke with emphasis, half hoping she would understand him, and -then broke off with sudden bitterness-- - -"Unless I fail!" - -"_You_ fail!" laughed Mona. - -"Ah! so outsiders always say. I can assure you, you have no idea how -chancy those London examinations are." - -The colour rushed into her face. A dozen times she had tried to ask -Rachel's permission to tell him all; a dozen times the question, "Why -him rather than any one else?" had sealed her lips. What if she were -to make a clean breast of it now, and risk her cousin's anger -afterwards! She could never hope for such another opportunity. - -She was determined to use it, to tell him she knew the chances of -those examinations only too well; but to her surprise she found the -confession far more difficult than the one she had made to the Sahib. -At the very thought of it, her heart beat hard and her breath came -fast. - -"This is too absurd!" she thought, in fierce indignation at her own -weakness. "What do I care what he thinks? But if I cannot speak -without panting as if I were trying to turn a mill, I must hold my -peace. It is of little consequence, after all, whether he knows or -not." - -"Do you know," said Dudley deliberately, "I thought for a moment that -I had come into the wrong house this morning? I never should have -recognised your--quarters." - -"Did you notice the difference? You must have a quick eye and a good -memory." - -Notice the difference! He had noticed few things in the last six -months that had given him half the pleasure of that sweeping -reformation. Dudley was no giant among men; but, if he cared for -name and outward appearance, at least he cared more for reality; and, -I think, the sight of that fresh, business-like, creditable shop was -a greater comfort to his mind than it would have been to see his -Cinderella at the ball. He had ceased to regret that Mona was a -shopkeeper, but he was not too much in love to be glad that she was a -good shopkeeper. - -"I knew your influence was bound to tell in the long-run," he said. -"I suppose Miss Simpson did not greatly encourage you to interfere?" - -"No, but she has been very good. I don't believe I should have left -an assistant as free a hand as she left me. I hope you admire my -window. I call it a work of art." - -"I call it something a great deal better than that," he said rather -huskily, as he held out his hand. "Good morning." - -"Bless her!" he said to himself as he jumped into his gig. "She -never apologises for the shop--never speaks as if it were something -beneath her. My God, what a snob I am!" - -As soon as he was gone, Mona raised the hand he had shaken, and -looked at it deliberately. Then she took a few turns up and down the -shop. "I never mean to marry," she said very slowly to herself, "and -I don't suppose I shall ever know what it is to be in love; but it -would be a fine test of a man's sincerity to see whether he would be -willing to take me simply and solely as I am now--as Rachel Simpson's -assistant." - -The next day was Sunday, and Rachel was so much better that she -insisted on Mona's going to church. - -"Folk will be thinking it is something catching," she said, "and by -the time I'm down-stairs again, there'll be nobody in the shop to -talk to." - -It was a bright, crisp morning, but Mona found the service rather a -barren one. - -"I suppose the doctor has been here," she said with marked -indifference, when she re-entered Rachel's room. - -"Yes; and very pleased he was to find me so well. He says I'm to get -up to tea to-day, and go out for ten minutes to-morrow, if all's -well. He is very busy, and he's not to come back unless we send for -him. He's not one of them that tries how many visits they can put -in." - -"No," said Mona drearily, and then she roused herself with an effort. -"I am so glad you are better, dear," she said. "Mr Stuart is coming -to see you to-morrow afternoon." - - - - -CHAPTER XLI. - -A SINGED BUTTERFLY. - -When New Year's Day came round, the little household had fallen back -into its ordinary routine. Mona had decorated the parlour with -evergreens before Rachel left her sick-room; had superintended divers -important proceedings in the kitchen; and had done her best to feel, -and to make others feel, the festive influence of the season. The -attempt had not been a very successful one, however; Rachel was at no -time susceptible to the poetry of domestic life; and when dim visions -rose in Mona's mind of giving a treat to her _protégées_, or to the -Sunday-school children, she forced herself to remember that she was -only a humble shopkeeper, bound to keep within the limits of her -_rôle_. For one night she had played a more important part, but that -was over now. She was back in her humble sphere, and, for very art's -sake, she must keep her true proportion till the end. Fortunately, -she was asked to assist in the management of one or two "treats," -and, by means of these and a few anonymous contributions to local -charities, she--to use an expression of her own--"saved her soul -alive." She looked for no selfish enjoyment, she told herself. -Auntie Bell was the only human thing in the neighbourhood whom, for -her own sake, she really cared to see; Auntie Bell--and perhaps one -other; but, although Mona often saw the doctor's gig in those days, -she never chanced to meet the doctor. - -A New Year dinner is not a very cheerful festivity in a somewhat -uncongenial _solitude à deux_, and Mona was not sorry when an -invitation came for Rachel to drink tea with a crony in the evening. -She herself was included in the invitation, but had no difficulty in -getting out of it. She was popular on the whole, among Rachel's -friends, but there was a general consensus of opinion among them -that, when it came to a regular gossip over the fire, Miss Maclean, -with all her cleverness, was a sad wet-blanket. Sally had been -promised a half-holiday, and Rachel had some compunction about -leaving her cousin alone, but Mona laughed at the idea. - -"The arrangement suits me quite as well as it does you," she said; "I -am going to take some of my mince-pies to old Jenny, and I have no -doubt she will give me a cup of tea. She has been on my mind all -day. It is glorious weather for a walk, and I shall have a full moon -to light me home." - -And in truth it was a glorious day for a walk. The thermometer had -fallen abruptly after a heavy mist, and the great stretch of fields -was perfectly white with the deepest hoar-frost Mona had ever seen. -From every stone in the dyke, every blade of grass by the wayside, -every hardy scrap of moss and lichen, the most exquisite ice-needles -stood out in wonderful coruscations, sparkling and blazing in the -slanting rays of the afternoon sun; a huge spider's web in the window -of an old barn looked like some marvellous piece of fairy lacework; -the cart-ruts in the more deserted roads were spanned by tiny rafters -of ice; and above all, the moon, modest and retiring as yet, looked -down from an infinitely distant expanse of pale, cloudless sky. - -Very slowly the sun sank below the horizon, and the moon asserted -herself more and more; till, when Mona reached the pine-wood, the -mystic, unearthly beauty of the scene brought the actual tears into -her eyes. The silence was broken only by sounds that served to gauge -its depth; the recesses of the wood were as gloomy and mysterious as -ever; but the moonlight streamed down on graceful tops and spreading -branches, not burdened with massive whiteness, but transformed into -crystal. A pine-wood in snow is a sight to be seen, but the work of -the snow is only a daub, after all, when compared with the artist -touch of a frost like this. - -Mona scarcely knew how long she stood there, unwilling even to lean -against the gate and so destroy its perfect bloom; but she was -disturbed at last by the sound of wheels on the carriage-drive. Had -the Colonel come back? Was Jenny ill? And then with a quick flash -of conviction she knew whom she was going to see. - -It was Dudley, leading his horse by the bridle, and looking worn and -anxious. He brightened up and quickened his step when he saw a -woman's figure at the gate; then recognised who it was, and stopped -short, with something like a groan. Poor Dudley! A moment before he -would have given almost anything he possessed for the presence of a -female human creature, and now that his prayer was granted, how he -wished that it had been any other woman in the world than just this -one whom the Fates had sent! - -He had no choice, however, and he plunged into the matter at once, -with white lips, but with a quick, resolute voice. - -"I am in a sore dilemma, Miss Maclean," he said. "I was sent for -suddenly up country to a case of arsenical poisoning; and, as I went -past, they stopped me at those cottar-houses to tell me that there -was a poor soul in extremity here. It's your little Maggie, by the -way. Poor child! She may well ask herself whether life is worth -living now! Of course I had to go on to my man, but I left him -before I really ought to have done so, and now I must hurry back. -The baby is just born." - -"Is Jenny here?" Mona found it difficult to speak at all in the -deafening rush of sorrow and bitterness that came over her. - -"Jenny is away to Leith. Her brother's ship has just come in. The -girl came home unexpectedly, and had to get the key of the house at -the cottage. Everybody is down in the town celebrating the New Year, -except a few infants, and an infirm old man, who noticed that she was -ill and hailed me. Will you go in? There is no fire, nor comfort of -any sort for the poor child. It is no work for you----" - -Mona looked up with a curious light in her eyes. - -"You don't really mean that," she said quietly. "If there were only -a duchess on the road to-night, it would be her work. I suppose I -may run to the cottage for some milk? I expect Maggie has eaten -nothing all day." - -His lips quivered slightly, in the relief of finding how simply she -took it. - -"God bless you," he said, as he took the reins. "I believe the girl -will do well. I will be back as soon as I possibly can, and I will -send the first woman I meet to your relief." - -"No, you won't," she said gently. "I would rather stay all night -than have a woman here of whom I know nothing. Go on. Good speed to -your case!" - -She fetched the milk, and then ran like the wind to the house. It -was a lonely place at the best of times, and now it seemed bleak and -damp and dreary,--a fitting home for the poor little singed human -butterfly, who, in the hour of her agony, had taken refuge within its -walls. - -Mona was thankful there was so much to do, for her indignation burned -like fire at the sight of that altered, chubby face. All honour to -the stern and noble women who, by the severity of their views, have -done so much to preserve the purity of their sex; but let us be -thankful, too, for those who, like Mona, in time of need lose sight -of the sinning woman in the injured suffering child. - -In a very short time a bright fire was blazing in the grate; the bed -had been arranged as comfortably as might be, and Mona was holding a -cup of hot milk to the lips of the half-starved girl. Only an -invalid knows the relief of having some one in the sick-room who, -without fuss or questioning, quietly takes the helm of affairs; and -poor little Maggie looked up at her comforter with the eyes of a -hunted animal, which, bruised and bleeding, finds that it has run by -chance into a haven of rest. - -For some time Mona doubted whether the baby would live till Dr -Dudley's return. It was such a puny little thing--a poor morsel of -humanity, thrust prematurely into a cold and busy world that had no -need of him. "He had better have died!" thought Mona, as she did all -that in her lay to keep him in life; and, in truth, I know not -whether the woman or the doctor in her rejoiced more truly when she -saw that all immediate danger was past. - -All was peaceful, and Maggie, with the tears undried on her long -eyelashes, had fallen asleep when Dudley came back. - -"I don't know how to apologise for being so long away," he said, in a -low voice. "Talk of Scylla and Charybdis!" He asked a few simple -questions, and then, leading the way into the kitchen, he pushed -forward the shabby old armchair for her, and seated himself on the -corner of the table. - -"I am afraid you are very tired," he said, - -"Oh no!" - -"You are reserving that for to-morrow?" - -He would have liked to feel her pulse, both as a matter of personal -and of scientific interest, but he did not dare. - -"I wonder what poor little Maggie and I would have done without you -to-night," he said. "As it is, I have had a close shave with my man. -I found him a good deal collapsed when I went back,--cold and clammy, -with blue lines round his eyes." - -"What did you do?" said Mona eagerly, with a student's interest. - -"You may well ask. One's textbooks always fail one just at the point -that offers a real difficulty in practice. They tell you how to get -rid of and to neutralise the poison; they overwhelm you with Marsh's -and Reinsch's tests; but how to keep the patient alive--that is a -mere detail. Hot bottles were safe, of course, and 'in the right -direction.' I was afraid to give stimulants, in case I should -promote the absorption of any eddies of the poison, but finally I had -to chance a little whisky-and-water, and that brought him round. I -was very ill at ease about leaving you so long, but I thought some -married woman from the cottar-houses would have been here before -this." - -"They won't come," said Mona, "I gave the old man a sovereign to hold -his peace." And then she bit her lip, remembering that Miss -Simpson's shop-girl could scarcely be supposed to have sovereigns to -spare. - -Dudley smiled,--a half-amused but very kindly smile, that reflected -itself in a moment in Mona's face. - -"Do you think it was foolish?" she asked simply. - -"God forbid that I should criticise a woman's instinct in such a -matter! With my powers of persuasion, I might as well have tried to -hush up the death of a prince. I have long since decided that if I -don't want people to talk about a thing, the best plan is to -advertise it at once, then turn up the collar of my coat, fold my -arms, and--thole." - -"That is all very well when only one's self is concerned, but, by the -time Jenny came back, no choice would have been left her." - -"True. I might have known all along that you were right. It will be -worth more than a sovereign to be able to tell Jenny that no one -knows. And if she comes soon, the statement will do for the truth. -Heigh-ho! do you know, I could throw my cap in the air, and hurrah -like a schoolboy, when I think that my man has pulled through. A -poisoning case is no joke, I can tell you; all hurry and confusion -and uncertainty, with the prospect of a legal inquiry at the end of -it. 'Do you mean to say, sir,'--Dudley adjusted an imaginary wig and -weighed an imaginary eyeglass,--'that with a man's life at stake, you -did so-and-so?' Ugh! who says a doctor's fees are easily earned? It -would take many a jog-trot dyspepsia or liver complaint to restore -the balance after that!" - -"I am quite sure of it; and now I advise you to go home and get a -night's rest if you can." - -"But what am I to do about you? You don't suppose I am going to -sleep the sleep of the unjust and leave you here?" - -"That is precisely what you are going to do. An hour's forced march -will do me no harm; you have had no lack of them lately. I will ask -you to leave this note for my cousin, and if you have no objection, I -think you might ask Jenny's friend, Mrs Arnot--you know who I -mean--to come up to-morrow morning. She is absolutely safe. Tell -her to wait till the shops are open, and bring me the things I have -jotted down here." - -Maggie was awake by this time, and Dudley paid her a short visit -before he left. The poor girl thought the gentleman very kind, but -she was thankful when he was gone, and she was alone once more with -Mona. - -"I will tell you all how it was," she sobbed out convulsively. - -"Not to-night, dear," Mona said quietly, stroking the thick brown -hair. "When you are a little stronger, you shall tell me the whole -story. To-night you must lie quite still and rest. I will take care -of you." - -It was a strange experience to sit there through the long hours, -listening to the regular breathing of the young mother, the steady -tick of the clock, and the occasional fall of a cinder from the -grate. It seemed so incredible that this girl--this butterfly--had -passed already, all frivolous and unprepared, through that tract of -country which, to each fresh traveller, is only less new and -mysterious than the river of death. A few months before, Mona had -felt so old and wise, compared to that ignorant child; and now a -great gulf of experience and of sorrow lay between them, and the -child was on the farther side. - -More and more heavily the burden of the sorrows of her sex pressed on -Mona's heart as the night went on; more and more she longed to carry -all suffering women in her arms; more and more she felt her -unworthiness for the life-work she had chosen, till at last, half -unconsciously, she fell on her knees and her thoughts took the form -of a prayer. - - - - -CHAPTER XLII. - -QUESTIONINGS. - -When Mona first began her medical career, she was actuated partly by -intense love of study and scientific work, partly by a firm and -enthusiastic conviction that, while the fitness of women for certain -spheres of usefulness is an open question, medical work is the -natural right and duty of the sex, apart from all shifting standards -and conventional views. Her repeated failure "took the starch out of -her," as she expressed it, but I do not think that she ever for more -than a moment seriously thought of giving up the work, when she laid -it aside for a time; and her promise to Mr Reynolds was made, less -out of gratitude to him than from a stern sense of duty. But now the -cold hard lines of duty were broken through by the growing developing -force of a living inspiration. We need many fresh initiations into a -life-work that is really to move mankind, and Mona underwent one that -night at Barntoun Wood, hundreds of miles away from the scene of her -studies, with the silvered pines for a temple, the lonely house for a -holy place, and a shrine of sin and sorrow. "Inasmuch as ye have -done it unto one of the least of these--" Who shall tell beforehand -what events will form the epochs, or the turning-points, in the life -of any one of us? Verily the wind bloweth where it listeth. - -The night was over, and the morning sun was once more kindling all -the ice-crystals into sparkles of light, when Mrs Arnot arrived--kind -and motherly, but of course inexpressibly shocked. Mona conjured her -not to have any conversation about the past that might agitate the -patient; and then set out for home, promising to return before night. -The ready tears welled up in Maggie's eyes as she watched her -benefactress go; and then she turned her face to the wall and -pretended to sleep. If she could only be with Miss Maclean always, -how easy it would be to be good; and perhaps in time she would even -begin to forget--about him. - -Since her illness Rachel had been very affectionate to her cousin, -and Mona was quite unprepared for the torrent of indignation that -assailed her when she entered the sitting-room. She had found Maggie -ill at the Wood alone, she said, and almost in a moment Rachel -guessed what had happened. - -For some time Mona tried to discuss the question calmly, but the -cutting, merciless words wounded her more than she could bear; so she -rose and took her gloves from the table. - -"That will do, cousin," she said coldly; "but for the accident of -circumstances it might have been you or I." - -This of course was a truism, but Rachel could not be expected to see -it in that light, and the flames of her wrath leaped higher. - -"Jenny can pay for a nurse from Kirkstoun," she said; "I'll not have -you waiting hand and foot on a creature no decent woman would speak -to. You'll not enter that house again." - -"I've promised to go back this afternoon. Of course you have a -perfect right, if you like, to forbid me to return here. But I am -very tired, and I think it would be a pity, after all your kindness -to me, to send me away with such an interpretation as this of the -parable of the Good Samaritan. Unless you mention the incident, -people will never find out that I had anything to do with it." - -She left the room without giving her cousin time to reply. Before -long Sally knocked at her door with a tolerably inviting -breakfast-tray. Poor Rachel! She had never made any attempt to -reduce her opinions and convictions to common principles, and it was -very easy to defeat her with a weapon out of her own miscellaneous -armoury. She was perfectly satisfied that the parable of the Good -Samaritan had nothing to do with the case, but the mention of it -reminded her of other incidents in the Gospel narrative which seemed -to lend some support to Mona's position. But then things were so -different now-a-days. Was that wicked little minx to be encouraged -to hold up her head again as if nothing her happened? - -Not even for Jenny's sake could Mona stoop to beg her cousin to hold -her peace, but Rachel had already resolved to do this for reasons of -her own. She was shrewd enough to see that if the incident came out -at all at present, it would come out in its entirety, and, rather -than sacrifice "her own flesh and blood," she would spare even -Maggie--for the present. - -About mid-day Dudley arrived at the shop on foot. - -"I thought the friendly Fates would let me find you alone," he said. -"Your patients are thriving famously. I came to tell you that Jenny -is to arrive at Kirkstoun to-night. I know it is asking a hard -thing; but it would soften matters so for everybody else if you could -meet her." - -"Thank you so much for coming to tell me. I have been very unhappy -about her home-coming. I am afraid I cannot do much, but I need not -say I will do my best. I meant to go out this afternoon, but I will -wait now, and go with Jenny. Poor soul! it will be an awful blow to -her." - -Dudley was looking at her fixedly. "Having expressed my delight at -finding you," he said, "I am going to proceed, with true masculine -inconsistency, to scold you for not taking a few hour's sleep. You -look very tired." - -"Appearances are deceptive." - -"I am afraid Miss Simpson is not pleased with last night's work." - -She hesitated, then smiled. "Miss Simpson is not the keeper of my -conscience." - -"Thank God for that at least! You will not stay for more than half -an hour to-night?" - -"I don't know." - -"No, Miss Maclean, you will not," he said firmly; "I will not have -it." - -Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Bear with my dulness," she said, -"and explain to me your precise right to interfere. Is it the -doctor's place to arrange how long the nurses are to remain on duty? -I only ask for information, you know." - -"Yes," he said boldly, "it is." - -"Ah! so it becomes a simple matter of official duty. Thank you for -explaining it to me." - -Then suddenly the blood rushed up into her face. "Oh, Dr Dudley," -she said impulsively, "what a brute I am to laugh and jest the moment -I have turned my back on a tragedy like that!" - -"And why?" he asked. "Do not the laughter and jesting, like the -flowers and the sunshine, show that the heart of things is not all -tragedy? If you and I could not laugh a little, in sheer healthy -human reaction from too near a view of the seamy side of life, I -think we should go mad; don't you?" - -"Yes," she said earnestly. - -"I think it is a great mistake to encourage mere feeling beyond the -point where it serves as a motive. As we say in physiology that the -optimum stimulus is the one that produces the maximum contraction; so -the optimum feeling is not the maximum feeling, but the one that -produces the maximum of action. Maggie is as safe with you as if she -had fallen into the hands of her guardian angel. There is but little -I can do, as the law does not permit us, even under strong -provocation, to wring the necks of our fellow-men; but I will see -Jenny to-morrow, and arrange about making the fellow contribute to -the support of the child. Do you think you and I need to be afraid -of an innocent laugh if it chances to come in our way?" - -Dudley spoke simply and naturally, without realising how his -sympathetic chivalrous words would appeal to a woman who loved her -own sex. Mona tried to thank him, but the words would not come, so -with an instinct that was half that of a woman, half that of a child, -she looked up and paid him the compliment of the tears for which she -blushed. - -It was then that Dudley understood for the first time all the -possibilities of Mona's beauty, and realised that the face of the -woman he loved was as potter's clay in the grasp of a beautiful soul. - -He held out his hand without a word, and left the shop. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIII. - -"MITHER!" - -The clear sky was obscured by driving clouds, and the night was -darkening fast, as Mona walked up and down the draughty little -station, waiting for the arrival of Jenny's train. The prospect of a -long walk across the bleak open country, with a heartrending tale to -tell on the way, was not an inviting one, and Mona had serious -thoughts of hiring a conveyance; but that would have been the surest -method of attracting attention to herself and Jenny, so she -reluctantly relinquished the idea. The train was very late, and the -wind seemed to rise higher every minute; but at last the whistle was -heard, and in a few moments more Jenny's quaint old figure alighted -from a grimy third-class carriage, and proceeded with difficulty to -"rax doun" the basket and bundle from the high seat. - -Mona's heart bled afresh at the sight of the weather-worn old face, -and her whole nature recoiled from the task she had accepted. After -all, why should she interfere? Might she not do more harm than good? -Would it not be wiser to leave the whole development of events to -Mother Nature and the friendly Fates? - -"Is that you, Jenny?" she said; "I am going out your way, so we can -walk together. Give me your basket." - -"Hoot awa', Miss Maclean! You leddies dinna tak' weel wi' the like -o' that. Feel the weicht o' it." - -"That is nothing," said Mona, bracing her muscles to treat it like a -feather. "I will take the bundle, too, if you like. And now, Jenny, -I want to hear about your travels." - -Her great fear was lest the old woman's suspicions should be aroused -before they got out of the town, and she talked rather excitedly -about anything that suggested itself. At last they passed the -outskirts, and Mona drew a long breath of mingled relief and -apprehension. - -"It's an awfu' nicht," gasped Jenny, taking Mona's proffered arm, as -a fierce gust of wind swept across the bare fields. "I nae ken hoo -I'd win hame my lane. But what taks ye sae far on siccan a nicht?" - -"I went out to see you last night," Mona answered irrelevantly, "but -found you away." - -"Eh, lassie, but I'm sair fashed! An' ye'd no' ken that the key was -at the cottar-hoose? Ye micht hae gaed in, and rested yersel' a bit. -I'd ask ye in the nicht, but the house is cauld, and nae doubt ye're -gaun tae some ither body." - -"Yes," said Mona, and then she rushed into the subject that occupied -all her thoughts. "When did you last hear from Maggie?" she asked. - -The old woman's face darkened. "I wadna wonner but there'll be a -letter frae her at the cottar-hoose. I'm that ill pleased wi' her -for no' writin'. It'll be sax weeks, come Monday, sin' I'd ony word. -I'll no' ken a meenit's peace till her twel'month's oot in Feb'ry, -and she's back at hame." - -"Perhaps she is ill," said Mona deliberately. - -Jenny peered up at her companion's face in the darkness. - -"What gars ye say that?" she asked quickly. - -"Jenny," said Mona, in a voice that shook with sympathy, "when I went -out last night, I found Maggie at the house. She has come home." - -She never could remember afterwards whether she added anything more, -or whether Jenny guessed at once what had befallen. There were a few -quick imperious questions, and then the old woman dropped her bundle -and burst into a torrent of wrath that made Mona's blood run cold. -For some minutes she could scarcely understand a word of the -incoherent outcry, but it was an awful experience to see the dim -figure of the mother, standing there with upraised hands on the -deserted road, calling down curses upon her child. - -Presently she picked up her bundle, and walked on so swiftly that -Mona could scarcely keep pace with her. - -"Hoo daured she come hame?" she muttered. "Hoo daured she, hoo -daured she? Could she no' bide whaur naebody kent her, and no' shame -her auld mither afore a' the folk? The barefaced hussy! I'd ha' -slammed the door i' her face. An' she'll oot o' the hoose this vera -nicht, she an' the bairn o' her shame. There's no' room yonder for -baith her an' me. I nae care what comes o' them. She suld ha' -thocht o' that i' time. We maun e'en reap what we saw. Frae this -day forrit she's nae bairn o' mine, and I'll no' lie doon ae nicht -wi' a shameless strumpet unner my roof." - -"If you turn her out of the house," Mona said quietly, "you will tell -all the world what has happened. At present it is a secret." - -Jenny's face brightened, but only for a moment. - -"Ye needna pit yersel' aboot tae tell me the like o' that," she said -bitterly. "Or maybe ye're but a lassie yet, and dinna ken hoo lang -thae secrets is like tae be keepit. I niver keepit ane mysel', and -it's no' likely ither folk are gaun to begin noo." Then she burst -into a wailing cry, "Eh, Miss Maclean, I'm sair stricken! I can turn -her oot o' my hoose, but I'll niver haud up my held again. What's -dune canna be undune." - -"What is done cannot be undone," Mona answered very slowly; "but it -can be made a great deal worse. The child did not know her trouble -was so near, when she came to ask your advice and help. Where else, -indeed, should she have gone? Would you have had her drift on to the -streets? Because she has lost what you call her good name, do you -care nothing for her soul? I think, in all my life, I never knew -anything so beautiful as the trustful way in which that poor little -thing came home to her mother. I'm sure I should not have had the -courage to do it. She knew you better than you do yourself. She had -not sat on your knee and heard all your loving words for nothing; and -when the world treated her cruelly, and she fell into temptation, she -knew where to turn. Fifty vows and promises of reformation would not -mean so much. If I were a mother, I should turn my back on a storm -of gossip and slander, and thank God on my bended knees for that." - -Mona paused, and in the darkness she heard a suppressed sob. - -"I am not a child, Jenny," she went on. "I know as well as you do -what the world would say, but we are away from the world just now, -you and I; we are alone in the darkness with God. Let us try for a -little to see things as He sees them. Don't you think He knows as -well as we do that if Maggie is kindly and lovingly dealt with now, -she may live to be a better woman and not a worse, because of this -fall? He puts it into her mother's power to turn this evil into -good. And you must not think that her life is spoilt. She is such a -child. She must not stay here, of course, but if you will let me, I -will find a home for her where she will be carefully trained; and you -will live yet to see her with a husband of her own to take care of -her, and little children, of whom you will be proud." - -Jenny sobbed aloud. "Na, na, Miss Maclean," she said; "ye may pit -the pieces thegither, sae that naebody kens the pitcher was broke, -but the crack's aye there!" - -"That's true, dear Jenny; but are we not all cracked pitchers in the -sight of God? We may not have committed just that sin, but may not -our pride and selfishness be even more wicked in His eyes? I am sure -Jesus Christ would have said some burning words to the man whose -selfishness has caused all this misery; but to poor little Maggie, -who has suffered so much, He would surely say, 'Neither do I condemn -thee: go, and sin no more.' It seems to me that the only peace we -can get in this world is by trying to see things as God sees them." - -So they talked on till they reached the Wood. From time to time -Jenny spoke softly, with infinite pathos, of her child; and then, -again and again, her indignation broke forth uncontrollably--now -against Maggie, now against the man who had betrayed her. Mona's -influence was strong, but it was exerted against a mighty rock of -opposition; and just when all seemed gained, the stone rolled heavily -back into its place. She was almost exhausted with the long struggle -when they reached the door, and she did not feel perfectly sure even -then that Jenny would not end by fulfilling her original threat. - -Mrs Arnot had gone home half an hour before, and Maggie was lying -alone, with pale face and large pathetic eyes. She recognised her -mother's step, and turned towards the opening door with quivering -lips. - -"Mither!" she sobbed, like a lost lamb. - -There was a moment of agonising uncertainty, and then a very bitter -cry. - -"Eh, my dawtie, my dawtie! my bonnie bit bairn! I suld ha' keepit ye -by me." - -Mona slipped into the kitchen. The blazing fire and the -well-polished tins swam mistily before her eyes, as she took the -tea-canister from the shelf, and her whole heart was singing a pæan -of thanksgiving. - -"It was the 'Mither!' that did it," she thought. "Where was all my -wordy talk compared to the pathos of that? But I am very glad I came -all the same." - -She left the mother and daughter alone for ten minutes or so, and -then carried in the tea-tray. - -"I don't know how you feel, Jenny," she said, "but I am very cold and -very hungry, so I took the liberty of making some tea. I even think -Maggie might be allowed to have some, very weak, if she promises -faithfully not to talk any more to-night." - -Jenny drank her hot tea, and her heart was cheered and comforted, in -spite of all her burden of sorrow. Miss Maclean's friendship was at -least something to set over against the talk of the folk; -and--and--she thought she would read a chapter of her Bible that -night; she would try to find the bit about Jesus and the woman. Had -any one told Jenny beforehand that, so soon after hearing such -dreadful news, her heart would have been comparatively at rest, she -would have laughed the idea to scorn. Yet so it was. Poor old -Jenny! The morrow was yet to come, with reflections of its own, with -the return swing of the pendulum, weighted with principle and -prejudice and old tradition; but in her simplicity she never thought -of that, and for a few short hours she had peace. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIV. - -A CRIMSON STREAK. - -As soon as tea was over, Mona rose to go. Jenny begged her to stay -all night, for the wind was howling most dismally through the -pine-trees; but Mona laughed at the idea of danger or difficulty, and -set out with a light heart. She had scarcely found herself alone, -however, in the wild and gusty night, when she began to regret her -own rashness. She was groping her way slowly along the -carriage-drive, with the guidance of the hedge, when, with a sudden -sense of protection, she caught sight of lamps at the gate. - -Dudley came forward as soon as he heard her step. - -"That is right," he said, with a chime of gladness in his beautiful -voice; "I thought you would obey orders." - -"I am naturally glad to receive the commendation of my superior -officer." - -"Is Jenny back?" - -"Yes. All is well,--for to-night at least. I must go out as early -as possible to-morrow. It was one of the most beautiful sights I -ever saw in my life;" and Mona described what had taken place. - -"You have done a good day's work," Dudley said, after a pause. - -"Oh, I did nothing. I laughed at my own heroics when I heard -Maggie's 'Mither!'" - -"No doubt; but Maggie's part would have fallen rather flat, if you -had not borne all the brunt of the disclosure." - -"Are you going to visit your patient?" - -"Is there any necessity?" - -"None whatever, I imagine." - -"Then I shall have the pleasure of driving you home." - -"Oh no, thank you! I would rather walk." - -They were standing now in the full light of the lamps. Dudley waxed -bold. - -"Look me in the face, Miss Maclean, and tell me that that is true." - -Mona raised her eyes with a curious sensation, as if the ground were -slipping from under her feet. - -"No," she said, "it is not true. I rather dread the walk; but--you -know I cannot come with you." - -"Why not?" - -She frowned at his persistence; then met his eyes again. - -"Because I should not do it by daylight," she said proudly. - -There was a minute's silence. - -"Burns' substitute comes to-morrow," he said carelessly. - -Her face changed very slightly, but sufficiently to catch his quick -eye. - -"And as soon as I have discussed things with him, I have promised to -carry my old aunt off to warmer climes. I shan't be back here till -August." - -No answer. A sudden blast of wind swept along the road, and she -instinctively laid hold of the shaft of the gig for support. - -Dudley held out his hand. - -"It is a high step," he said, "but I think you can manage it." - -Mona took his hand almost unconsciously, tried to say something -flippant, failed utterly, and took her seat in the gig without a word. - -"Am I drugged?" she thought, "or am I going mad?" - -Never in all her life had she so utterly failed in _savoir-faire_. -She felt vaguely how indignant she would be next day at her own -weakness and want of pride; but at the moment she only knew that it -was good to be there with Dr Dudley. - -He arranged the rug over her knees, and took the reins. - -"Is this better than walking?" he asked in a low voice, stooping down -to catch her answer. - -Only for a moment she tried to resist the influence that was creeping -over her. - -"Yes," she said simply. - -"Are you glad you came?" - -And this time she did not try at all. - -"Yes." - -"That's good!" The reins fell loosely on the mare's back. "Peggy's -tired," he said. "Don't hurry, old girl. Take your time." - -Mona shivered nervously. - -"You are cold," he said, taking a plaid from the back of the seat. -"Will you put this round you?" - -"No, thank you; I am not really cold, and I have no hands. I should -be blown away altogether if I did not hold on to this iron bar." - -"Should you?" he said, with a curious intonation in his voice. "Take -the reins." - -He put them in her hand, unfolded the plaid, and stooped to put it -round her shoulders. In a momentary lull of the storm, he fancied he -felt her warm breath on his chilled cheek; a little curl of her hair, -dancing in the wind, brushed his hand lightly like a cobweb; and she -sat there, unguarded as a child, one hand holding the reins, the -other grasping the rail of the gig. - -Then Dudley forgot himself. His good resolutions were blotted out, -and he felt only a gambler's passionate desire to stake all in one -mad throw. If it failed, he was a ruined man; but, if it succeeded, -what treasure-house could contain his riches? He could not wait,--he -could not, he could not! One moment would tell him all, and he must -know it. The future might have pleasures of its own in store, but -would it ever bring back this very hour, of night, and storm, and -solitude, and passionate desire? - -So the arm, that passed round Mona to arrange the plaid, was not -withdrawn. "Give me the reins," he said firmly, with that calmness -which in hours of intense excitement is Nature's most precious gift -to her sons; "give me the reins and let go the rail--I will take care -of you." - -And with a touch that was tender, but fearless with passion, his -strong arm drew her close. - -And Mona? why did she not repulse him? Never, since she was a little -child, had any man, save Sir Douglas and old Mr Reynolds, done more -than touch her hand; and now she obeyed without a word, and sat there -silent and unresisting. Why? Because she knew not what had befallen -her; because, with a last instinct of self-preservation, she held her -peace, lest a word should betray the frantic beating of her heart. - -"This is death," she thought; but it was life, not death. Dudley's -eye had gauged well the promise of that folded bud; and now, in the -sunshine of his touch, on that wild and wintry night, behold a -glowing crimson streak! - -And so Ralph knew that this woman would be his wife. - -Not a word passed between them as Peggy trotted slowly homewards. -Mona could not speak, and Ralph rejoiced to think that he need not. -When they reached Miss Simpson's door, he sprang down, lifted Mona to -the ground, raised her hands to his lips, and stood there waiting, -till the door had shut in the light. - - - - -CHAPTER XLV. - -AN UNBELIEVER. - -Mona did not see Dudley again before he left Borrowness. Strange as -it may seem, she did not even wish to do so. Nothing could have -added just then to the intensity of her life. For days she walked in -a golden dream, performing her daily duties perhaps even better than -usual, but with a constant sense of their unreality; and when at last -outward things began to reassert their importance, she had much ado -to bring her life into unison again. - -Hitherto her experience had ebbed and flowed between fairly fixed -limits; and now, all at once, a strong spring-tide had rushed up upon -the beach, carrying cherished landmarks before it, and invading every -sheltered nook and cranny of her being. She had fancied that she -knew life, and she had reduced many shrewd observations to broad -general principles; and now, behold, the relation of all things was -changed, and for the moment she scarcely knew what was eternal rock -and what mere floating driftwood. - -"I feel," she said, "like a man who has lived half his life in a -house that amply satisfies all his requirements, till one day by -chance he touches a secret spring, and discovers a staircase in the -wall, leading to a suite of enchanted rooms. He goes back to his -study and laboratory and dining-room, and finds them the same, yet -not the same: he can never forget that the enchanted rooms are there. -He must annex them, and bring them into relation with the rest of the -house, and make them a part of his domicile; and to do that he must -readjust and expand his views of things, and live on a larger scale." - -She looked for no letter, and none came. "When the examination is -over in July, I shall be able to say and do things which I dare not -say and do now." The words had conveyed no definite meaning to her -mind when they were spoken; but she knew now that when August came, -and not till then, she would hear from her friend again. - -That his behaviour the night before had been inconsistent and -unconventional in the highest degree, did not even occur to her. -When one experiences an earthquake for the first time, one does not -stop to inquire which of its features are peculiar to itself, and -which are common to all earthquakes alike. Moreover, it was weeks -and months before Mona realised that what had passed between Dr -Dudley and herself was as old as the history of man. I am almost -ashamed to confess it of a woman whose girlhood was past, and who -made some pretension to wisdom, but it is the simple fact that her -relation to Dudley seemed to her something unique and unparalleled. -While most girls dream of Love, Mona had dreamt of Duty, and now Love -came to her as a stranger--a stranger armed with a mysterious, divine -right to open up the secret chambers of her heart. She did not -analyse and ask herself what it all meant. She lived a day at a -time, and was happy. - -More than a week elapsed before there appeared in her sky a cloud no -bigger than a man's hand, and the cloud took the form of the old -inquiry, "What would Dr Dudley say when he learned that she was a -medical student, that her life was entirely different from what he -had supposed?" She shut her eyes at first when the question asserted -itself, and turned her face the other way; but the cloud was there, -and it grew. For one moment she thought of writing to him; but the -thought was banished almost before it took definite form. To write -to him at all, to make any explanation whatever now, would be to -assume--what he must be the first to put into words. - -As soon as February came in, Mona began to look out for a successor -in the shop, and to prepare her cousin for her approaching departure. -It was days before Rachel would even bear to have the subject -broached. Then came a period of passionate protestation and -indignant complaint; but when at length the good soul understood that -Mona had never really belonged to her at all, she began to lavish -upon her young cousin a wealth of tearful affection that touched -Mona's heart to the quick. - -"It has been such a quiet, restful winter," Mona said one day, when -the time of complaint was giving place to the time of affection; "and -in some respects the happiest of my life." - -"Then why should you go? I am sure, Mona, I am not one to speak of -these things; but anybody can see how it is with Mr Brown. Every day -I am expecting him to pop the question. You surely won't refuse a -chance like that. You are getting on, you know, and he is so steady -and so clever, and so fond of all the things you like yourself." - -Mona's cheeks had regained their wonted colour before she answered, -"In the first place, dear, I shall not 'get the chance,' as you call -it; in the second place, I should never think of accepting it, if I -did." - -"Well, I'm sure, there's no getting to the bottom of you. I could -understand your not thinking the shop genteel--some folks have such -high and mighty notions--but it is not that with you. You know I've -always said you were a born shopkeeper. I never kept any kind of -accounts before you came, but I don't really think I made anything by -the shop at all to speak of--I don't indeed! So many things got -mislaid, and, when they cast up again, they were soiled and faded, -and one thing and another. I showed Mr Brown your books, and told -him what we had made last quarter, and he was perfectly astonished. -I am sure he thinks you would be a treasure in a shop like his. My -niece, Mary Ann, was capital company, and all her ways were the same -as mine like, but she wasn't a shopkeeper like you. She was aye -forgetting to put things back in their places, and there would be -such a to-do when they were wanted again. Poor thing! I wonder if -she's got quit of that lady-help, as she calls her--lady-hindrance is -liker it, by my way of thinking! And then, Mona, I did hope you -would see your way to being baptised. That was a great thing about -Mary Ann. She was a member of the church, and that gave us so many -more things to talk about like. She was as fond of the -prayer-meeting as I was myself." - -"You will come and see me sometimes," Rachel said, a few days later. - -"That I will," Mona answered cordially. "I have promised to spend -the summer holidays with some friends, but I will come to you for a -week, in the first instance, if you will be kind enough to take me -in,--the second week of August." - -And the reader will be glad to know that, if ever human being had a -guilty conscience, Mona had one at that moment. - -The second week of August! How her heart beat at the thought of it! -The examination would be over. With his short-sighted eyes, Dr -Dudley would probably never have seen her at Burlington House; and -down at Castle Maclean, with the sunshine dancing on the water, and -the waves plashing softly on the beach below, she would tell him the -whole story, before the lists came out and betrayed her. In the -exultation of that moment, the very possibility of another failure -did not occur to her. The lists would appear in the course of the -week, and they two would con the results together. She would humble -herself, if need were, and ask his pardon for having in a sense -deceived him; but surely there would be no need. Everything would be -easy and natural and beautiful--in the second week of August! - -There was much surprise, considerable regret, and not a little -genuine sorrow, when the news of Miss Maclean's departure became -known; but perhaps no one felt it so keenly as Auntie Bell. The old -woman expected little of men, and, as a rule, found in them as much -as she expected. Of women she had constantly before her so lofty a -type, in her hard-working, high-souled, keen-witted self, that her -female neighbours were a constant source of disappointment to her. -She had been prejudiced in Mona's favour for her father's sake, and -the young girl had more than answered to her expectations. Miss -Maclean had some stuff in her, the old woman used to say, and that -was more than one could say of most of the lassies one met. - -One day towards the end of February, Auntie Bell packed a basket with -the beautiful new-laid eggs that were beginning to be plentiful, and -set out, for the first time in many months, to pay a visit to Rachel -Simpson. To her inward delight she met two of Mr Brown's sisters as -she passed through the streets of Kilwinnie. - -"Where are you going, Mrs Easson?" asked one. "It's not often we see -you here now-a-days." - -Auntie Bell looked keenly up through the gold-rimmed spectacles. - -"Whaur wad I be gaun?" she asked grimly, "but tae see Miss Maclean? -She's for leavin' us." - -"Why is she going? I understood she was making herself quite useful -to Miss Simpson in the shop." - -"Quite usefu'!" Auntie Bell could scarcely keep her indignation -within bounds. "I fancy she is quite usefu'--mair's the peety that -the same canna be maintained o' some o' the lave o' us. Miss Simpson -wad gie her een tae gar her bide, I'm thinkin'. But what is there -here tae keep a leddy like yon? Hae ye no' mind what kin' o' mon her -faither was? Div ye no' ken that she has siller eneuch an' tae -spare? Ma certy! she's no' like tae say as muckle tae common -country-folk like you an' me, an' Rachel Simpson yonder; but onybody -can see, frae the bit w'ys she has wi' her, that she's no' used tae -the like o' us!" - -Having thus delivered her soul, Auntie Bell set her basket on a low -stone dyke; wiped, first her face, and then her spectacles, with a -large and spotless handkerchief, and proceeded on her way to the -station with an easy mind. - -Rachel was out paying calls when she arrived. But Mona received her -friend with an enthusiastic welcome that amply repaid the old woman -for her trouble. Half of the eccentricity for which Auntie Bell had -so wide a reputation was enthusiasm blighted in the bud; and she -keenly appreciated the quality in another,--when it was accompanied -by a sufficiency of ballast. - -"You look tired," Mona said, as she poured out the tea she had -prepared herself. - -"Ay, I'm sair owerwraucht. Ane o' the lassies is ill--that's the -first guid cup o' tea I hae tasted i' this hoose! Ane o' the lassies -is ill--she's no' a lassie aither, she'll be forty come Martinmas; -but she's been wi' me sin' she was saxteen, an' the silly thing'll -no' see a doctor, an' I nae ken what's tae be dune." - -"What's the matter with her?" asked Mona. - -"Hoot, lassie! it's nae hearin' for the like o' you." - -"It is just the hearing that is for me. I am not a child, and, now -that I am going away, Rachel has no objection to my telling you in -confidence that I am studying to be a doctor." - -Amusement--incredulity--dismay--appeared, one after the other, on the -weather-beaten, expressive old face, and then it grew very grave. - -"Na, na, lassie," said the old woman severely. "Ye dinna mean that. -A canny, wiselike thing like you wad niver pit hersel' forrit like -some o' thae hussies we hear aboot in Ameriky. Think o' yer faither! -Ye'll no' dae onything that wad bring discredit on him?" - -"Tell me about your servant," Mona said, waiving the question with a -gentleness that was more convincing than any protestations. "What -does she complain of?" - -Auntie Bell hesitated, but the subject weighed heavily on her mind, -and the prospect of sympathy was sweet. - -"It's no' that she complains," she said, "but----" her voice sank -into an expressive whisper. - -Mona listened attentively, and then asked a few questions. - -"I wish I could come out with you and see her to-night," she said; -"but a young woman has an appointment with me about the situation. I -will walk out to-morrow and see your maid. It is very unlikely that -I shall be able to do anything,--I know so little yet,--but her -symptoms may be due to many things. If I cannot, you must either -persuade her to see the doctor here; or, if she was able to be moved, -I could take her with me when I go to Edinburgh, to the Women's -Cottage Hospital." - -"And what w'y suld ye pit yersel' aboot?" - -Mona laughed. "It's my _business_," she said. "We all live for -something." - -"Na, na; if she doesna mend, she maun e'en see Dr Robertson. Maybe -I've no' been sae firm wi' her as I suld ha' been; but I've nae -opeenion o' doctors ava'. I'm ready tae dee when my time comes, but -it'll no' be their pheesic that kills me." - -Rachel came in at this moment, and the subject was dropped till -Auntie Bell rose to go. - -"To-morrow afternoon then," Mona said, as they stood at the -garden-gate. - -"Eh, lassie, I couldna hae been fonder o' ma ain bairn! Who'd iver -ha' thocht it?--a wiselike, canny young crittur like you! Pit a' -that nonsense oot o' yer heid!" - -Mona laid her hands on the old woman's shoulders, and stooped to kiss -the wrinkled brow. - -"I would not vex you for the world, dear Auntie Bell," she said. "If -you like, we will discuss it to-morrow afternoon." - -"Na, na, there's naething tae discuss. Ye maun ken fine that the -thing's no' _fut_ for yer faither's bairn!" And with a heavy heart -the old woman betook herself to the station. - -"More by good luck than good guidance," Mona said, the medicine she -prescribed for the farm-servant proved effectual, at least for the -moment; and a simple tonic, aided by abundant good things from Auntie -Bell's larder and dairy, soon brought back the glow of health to the -pale cheeks. Auntie Bell looked very grave, and said not one word on -the subject either to Mona or any one else; but the patient was less -reticent, and, before Mona left Borrowness, she was infinitely -touched by an appeal that came to her from a sick woman in Kilwinnie. - -"I've niver been able tae bring mysel' tae speak o't," she said, as -Mona sat by her bedside, "an' noo, I doot it's ower late; but they do -say ye're no' canny, an' I thocht maybe ye culd help me." - -Poor Mona! Very few minutes were sufficient to convince her that she -could do nothing, that the case was far beyond her powers, if, -indeed, not beyond the possibility of surgical interference. - -"I am so sorry," she said, with a quiver in her voice; "but I know so -little, it is no wonder I cannot help you. You must let me speak to -the doctor. He is a good man, and he knows so much more than I do. -I will tell him all about it, so he won't have to worry you or ask -you questions. He will be able to lessen the pain very much, and--to -do you good." - -Her conscience reproached her for the last words, but they were -received only with a sigh of infinite resignation. - -"I made sure it was ower late," said the woman wearily; "but when I -heard about Mrs Easson's Christie, I just thocht I wad speir at ye -mysel'. It was awfu' guid o' ye tae come sae far." - -Mona could find no words. Even the tragedy of Maggie's story faded -into insignificance before the pathos of this; for Mona was young and -strong, and life seemed to her very sweet. - -"Thank God, I am going back to work!" she thought as she hastened -home. "I want to learn all that one human being can. It is awful to -be buried alive in the coffin of one's own ignorance and -helplessness." - -Alas for the dreams of youth! We may work and strive, but do the -coffin-walls ever recede so very far? - - - - -CHAPTER XLVI. - -FAREWELL TO BORROWNESS. - -Two great honours were in store for Mona before she left Borrowness. - -In the first place, the Misses Brown paid her a formal call. They -were arrayed in Sabbath attire, and were civil even to effusiveness; -but they did not invite Mona to their house, nor suggest another -excursion. Auntie Bell's remarks had had the intended effect of -making them feel very small; but, on reflection, they did not see -that they could have acted otherwise. It was a matter of comparative -indifference to them whether their brother married a rich woman or a -poor one; it was no part of their programme that he should marry at -all. They found it difficult to predict exactly how he would be -influenced by this fresh light on the situation; and, for the -present, they did not think it necessary to tell him anything about -it. - -Some mysterious and exaggerated report, however, of "high -connections" must certainly have got wind, or I cannot think that the -second and greater honour would have fallen to Mona's share. It came -in the form of a note on thick hand-made paper, embossed with a -gorgeous crest - -"Mr and Mrs Cookson request the pleasure of Miss Maclean's company to -dinner, etc." - -Dinner! Mona had not "dined" for months. She tossed the note aside -with a laugh. - -"If my friend Matilda has not played me false," she said--"and I -don't believe she has--this is indeed success!" - -Her first impulse was to refuse, but she thought of Matilda's -disappointment; and she thought, too, that Dr Dudley, knowing what he -did of her relations with the girl, would think a refusal unworthy of -her; so she showed the note to Rachel. - -"Of course you'll go," was Rachel's immediate reply to the unspoken -question. "But I do think, seeing how short a time we're to be -together, they might have asked me too!" - -Mona did not answer. She was strongly tempted at that moment to -write and say she went nowhere without her cousin, but she could not -honestly agree that the Cooksons might have invited Rachel too. - -She ended by going, dressed with the utmost care, that she might not -disappoint Matilda's expectations; and, on the whole, she was -pleasantly surprised. There was less vulgar display than she had -expected. Mrs Cookson was aggressively patronising, and Clarinda -almost rude, but for that Mona had been prepared. Mr Cookson cared -nearly as much for appearances as his wife did; but, as Mona had -guessed, there was good wood under all the veneer. He was much -pleased with Mona's appearance; his pleasure grew to positive liking -when she expressed a preference for _dry_ champagne; and when she -played some of Mendelssohn's _Lieder_, from Matilda's well-thumbed -copy, he became quite enthusiastic. - -"I am afraid dear old Kullak's hair would stand on end, if he heard -me," Mona said to the eager girl at her elbow, "and he would throw my -music out of the window, as he did one day, when I thought I had -surpassed myself." But there were many stages of musical criticism -between Kullak and Mr Cookson. - -"The girls have been playing those things to me for years," he said, -"but I never saw any sense in them before. It was all diddle-diddle, -twang-twang. Now, when you play them, bless me! I feel as I did -when Cook's man began to speak English to me, the first time I was at -a French railway station." - -With Matilda's handsome brother, Mona did not get on so well. - -"Getting tired of your hobby, Miss Maclean?" he said, standing in -front of her, and twirling his moustache. - -Mona looked up with innocent eyes. - -"Which hobby?" she said. - -He laughed and changed the subject. He was not shy, but he had not -the courage to specify shopkeeping. - -All evening Matilda followed Mona like a shadow; taking her hand -whenever she dared, and gazing up into her face with worshipping -eyes. "It is too lovely having you here," she said, "but I can't -forget it's the end of all things." - -"Oh no, it is not," Mona answered. "You will be coming up to London -one of these days, and perhaps your mother will let you spend a few -days with me. In the meantime, I want you to spend a long afternoon -with me to-morrow." - -The long afternoon was in some respects a trying one, but that and -most of the other farewells were over at length, and Mona was hard at -work packing up. - -"What a lifetime it seemed, six months ago!" she said, "and now that -it is past---- And how little I ever dreamed that I should be so -sorry to go!" - -She had to find room for quite a number of keepsakes, and she almost -wept over the heterogeneous collection. There were home-made -needle-books and pin-cushions from the girls who had come to her for -advice about bonnets, and situations, and husbands; there was a pair -of gaudy beaded footstools, which Rachel had got as a bargain at the -bazaar; there was a really beautiful Bible from the Bonthrons (how -Mona longed to show it to Dr Dudley!); and from Matilda Cookson there -was a wreath of shells and sea-weed picked up near Castle Maclean, -and mounted on cardboard, with these lines in the centre of the -wreath-- - - "FROM - M. C. - IN GRATEFUL MEMORY - OF - THE HAPPIEST HOURS OF HER LIFE." - - -The inspiration was a happy one, and it had been carried out with -much care, and a dash of art. Tradition and early education had of -course to put in their say; and they did it in the form of a massive -gold frame, utterly out of keeping with the simple wreath. - -"Oh dear! why will people be so pathetic?" said Mona; but, if the -gifts had been priceless jewels, she could not have packed them with -tenderer care. - -Then came the hardest thing of all, the parting with Rachel. A -bright and competent young woman had been engaged in Mona's place, -but Rachel could not be induced to hear a word in her favour. - -"What's all that to me?" she sobbed; "it's not like one's own flesh -and blood. You'd better never have come!" - -Mona felt sure that the edge of this poignant grief would very soon -wear off, but when the first bend in the railway had shut the limp, -flapping handkerchief out of sight, she sank back in the comfortless -carriage, feeling as if she had come to the end of a severe and -protracted campaign. - -She was too exhausted to read, and was thankful that by some happy -chance she had no fellow-passengers. No mountains and fjords haunted -her memory now; but instead--changing incessantly like a -kaleidoscope--came a distorted phantasmagoria of perished elastic and -ill-assorted knitting-needles; red-cushioned pews and purple -bonnet-strings; suffering women in poor little homes; crowded bazaar -and whirling ball-room; rocky coast and frosted pines; and--steady, -unchanging, like the light behind the rattling bits of glass--the -wonderful, mystic glow of the suite of enchanted rooms. - -Dusk was gathering when the train drew into the station. Yes; there -stood Doris and the Sahib. Doris was looking eagerly in the -direction of the coming train, and the Sahib was looking at Doris. -But what a welcome they gave the traveller! A welcome that drove all -the phantasmagoria out of her head, and made her forget that she was -anything other than Doris's sister, the friend of the Sahib, -and--something to somebody else. - -"Ponies and pepper-pot still to the fore?" she said, as they crossed -the platform. - -"Oh yes; but a horrible fear has seized me lately that the pepper-pot -is beginning to grow." - -"Are you not coming with us?" Mona asked, as the Sahib arranged the -carriage-rug. - -He looked down at his great athletic figure with a good-humoured -smile. - -"How is it to be done?" he asked, "unless I put the whole toy in my -pocket--dolls and all. Miss Colquhoun has been kind enough to ask me -to dinner. I am looking forward to meeting you then." - -Scarcely a word passed between the friends as they drove home, and -Mona was glad to lie down and rest until dinner-time. - -"Welcome, Miss Maclean!" cried Mr Colquhoun as she entered the -drawing-room. "You've come in the very nick of time to give me your -opinion of a new microtome I want to buy. I could not have held out -another day. Why, I declare you are looking bonnier than ever!" - -"She is looking five years younger," said Doris. - -"Since we _are_ making personal remarks," said the Sahib, "I should -have said older, but that does not prevent my agreeing cordially with -Mr Colquhoun." - -Mona's laugh only half concealed her rising colour. - -"Older has it," she said, nodding to the Sahib. "Score!" - -As they went in to dinner, she looked round at the unpretentious -perfection of the room and the table, with a long sigh of -satisfaction. - -"There is no house in the world," she said, "where I have precisely -the sense of restfulness that I have here. Nothing jars; I don't -need to talk unless I like; and I can afford to be my very own self." - -"That's a good hearing," said Mr Colquhoun heartily. "Have some -soup!" - -The two gentlemen kept the ball going between them most of the time, -for Doris never talked much except in a _solitude à deux_. And yet -how intensely she made her presence felt, as she sat at the head of -the table,--sweet, gracious, almost childlike, her fair young face -scarcely giving a hint of the strength and enthusiasm that lay behind -it! - -"I can hardly believe that I am to have you for a whole week," she -said, following Mona into her bedroom, and rousing the fire; "it is -too good to be true. And I am so glad you are going back to your -work!" - -"So am I, dear," said Mona simply. - -"Of course! I knew you would come back to the point you started -from." - -Mona smiled. "You are determined not to make it a spiral, I see. -Ah, well! taking it as a circle, it is a bigger one than I imagined." - -Her words would not have struck Doris but for the tone in which they -were unconsciously spoken. - -"What has biggened it?" she said, looking up from the fire. - -Mona's hands were clasped beneath her head on the low back of her -arm-chair, and her eyes were fixed on the ceiling. - -"I don't know," she said. "Many things. How is Maggie getting on?" - -"Famously. Laurie says she will make a first-rate cook. You should -have seen the child's face when I told her you were coming! I am so -grateful to you, Mona, for giving me a chance to help her. There is -so little that one can do!--that I can do at least! She is a sweet -little thing, and so pretty. When I think of that man----" her face -crimsoned, and she stopped short. - -"Don't think of him, dear," said Mona. "It us no use; and, you know, -you must not spoil Maggie." - -Doris bent low over the fire, and the tears glistened on her long -eyelashes. She tried to wink them away, but it was no use; and, -after all, there was only Mona there to see, and Mona was almost a -second self. She pressed her handkerchief hard against her eyes for -a moment, and then turned to her friend with a smile. - -"What a time you must have had of it that night at the Wood! I _was_ -proud of you!" - -"I wish you had more cause, dear. My duties were simple in the -extreme." - -"And the country doctor--what did he say when he found how you had -risen to the occasion?" - -Mona's eyes were fixed on the ceiling again. - -"I don't think he said anything that is likely to live in history. I -believe he ventured to suggest that Maggie might have some beef-tea." - -This, as Dudley could have testified, was a pure fabrication. - -"I don't suppose he would be man enough to admit it, but he must have -seen that you were in your proper place there--not he." - -Mona opened her lips to reply, and then closed them again. - -"Maggie has not been my only patient by any means," she said finally. -"I have had no end of practice. I assure you I might have set up my -carriage, if I had been paid for it all. Oh, Doris, it is sad work -sometimes!" and she told the story of the last patient she had had. - -"Poor soul! Glad as I am that you have left that place, I don't know -how you could bring yourself to leave her." - -"No more do I, quite." - -"You could not have brought her into Edinburgh?" - -Mona shook her head. "Too late!" she said. - -"It must have been dreadful to give her over, after all, to a man. I -don't know how you could do it." - -"That's because you don't know how kind he is, how he met me -half-way, and made my task easy. It was the Kilwinnie doctor, you -know, an elderly man." Mona sprang to her feet, and leaned against -the mantelpiece. "At the risk of forfeiting your esteem for ever, -Doris, I must record my formal testimony that the kindness I have met -with at the hands of men-doctors is almost incredible. When I think -how nice some of them are, I almost wonder that we women have any -patients at all!" - -"_Nice!_" said Doris quietly, but with concentrated scorn. "It's -their _trade_ to be _nice_. I never consulted a man-doctor in my -life, and I never will; but if by any inconceivable chance I were -compelled to, I would infinitely prefer a boor to a man who was nice!" - -Mona laughed. "Dear old niceness," she said, "I won't have him -abused. When all is said, he is so much more attractive than most of -the virtues. And before we banish him from the conversation,--how do -you like the Sahib?" - -Doris's face brightened. - -"_He_ believes in women-doctors," she said. - -"Ay, and in all things lovely and of good report." Mona was -forgetting her resolution. - -"He has very wholesome views on lots of subjects," Doris went on -reflectively. - -"Have you seen much of him?" - -"A good deal. He is very much interested in the things my father -cares about. I quite understand now what you meant when you said he -was the sort of man one would like to have for a brother." - -This was disappointing, and Mona brought the conversation to a close. - -Every day during her visit the Sahib came in for an hour or two, -sometimes to lunch or dinner, sometimes to escort "the girls" to a -lecture or concert. He was uniformly kind and brotherly to both, but -Mona fancied that at times he was sorely ill at ease. - -"If only he would show a little common-sense," she thought, "and let -the matter drop altogether, what a relief it would be for both of us!" - -But this was not to be. - -On Sunday afternoon Doris had gone out to teach her Bible-class, Mr -Colquhoun was enjoying his weekly afternoon nap, and Mona was sitting -alone by the fire in the library, half lost in a mighty arm-chair, -with a book on her knee. - -Suddenly the door opened, and the Sahib entered unannounced. - -"You are alone?" he said, as though he had not counted on finding her -alone. - -"Yes," said Mona, and she tried in vain to say anything more. It was -Sunday afternoon. - -Somewhat nervously he lifted the book from her lap and glanced at the -title-page. - -"Your choice of literature is exemplary," he said, seating himself -beside her. - -"I am afraid the example begins and ends with the choice, then," said -Mona, colouring. "I have not read a line; I was dreaming." - -He looked at her quickly. - -"Miss Maclean," he said, making a bold plunge, "I have come for my -answer." - -Mona raised her eyes. - -"What answer do you want, Mr Dickinson?" she said quietly. - -If the Sahib had been absolutely honest he would have replied, "Upon -my soul, I don't know!" but there are moments when the best of men -think it necessary to adapt the truth to circumstances. Before Mona -came to Edinburgh he had certainly regretted those hasty words of his -at the ball; but, now that he was in her presence again, now -especially that he was alone in her presence, the old charm returned -with all its force. Doris was a pearl, but Mona was a diamond; Doris -was spotless, but Mona was crystalline. If only he had met either of -these women three years ago, what a happy man he would have been! -The Sahib had lived a pure, straightforward life, and he was almost -indignant with Nature and the Fates for placing a man like him on the -horns of such a dilemma; but Nature has her freaks--and her revenges. -When he was alone with the pearl, the diamond seemed hard, and its -play of colours dazzling; when he was alone with the diamond--but no, -he could not admit that even the clearness and brilliancy of the -diamond suggested a want in the pearl. - -"I am not a boy," he said hastily, almost indignantly, "not to know -my own mind." - -True man as she knew him to be, his words rang false on Mona's -sensitive ear. She rose slowly from her chair and stood before the -fire. - -"Nor am I a girl," she said, "not to know mine. It is no fault of -mine, Mr Dickinson, that you did not take my answer two months ago. -I can only repeat it now," and she turned to leave the room. - -He felt keenly the injustice and justice of her anger; but he was too -honest to complain of the first without pleading guilty to the second. - -"Considering all that has passed between us," he said simply, "I -think you might have said it less unkindly." - -He was conscious of the weakness of the answer, but to her it was the -strongest he could have made. It brought back the brotherly Sahib of -former days, and her conscience smote her. - -"Was I unkind?" she said, turning back. "Indeed, I did not mean to -be; but I thought you were honest enough, and knew me well enough, to -come and say you had made a mistake. I was hurt that you should -think me so small." She hesitated. "Sahib," she said, "Doris and I -have been friends ever since we were children, and no man has ever -known both of us without preferring her. I can scarcely believe that -any man will have the luck to win her, but I could not be jealous of -Doris----" - -She stopped short. At Christmas she could have said the words with -perfect truth, but were they true now? The question flashed like -lightning through her mind, and the Sahib watched her with intense -interest while she answered it. Her face grew very pale, and her -lips trembled. She leaned her arm against the mantelpiece. - -"Sahib," she said, "life gets so complicated, and it is so difficult -to tell what one is bound to say. You asked me if--if--there was -somebody else. There is somebody else; there was then. I did not -lie to you. I did not know. And even now--he--has not said----" - -She broke off abruptly, and left the room. - -The Sahib lifted up the book she had laid down, and carefully read -the title-page again, without really seeing one word. The question -had indeed been settled for him, and at that moment he would have -given wellnigh everything he possessed, if he could have been the man -to win and marry Mona Maclean. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVII. - -THE DISSECTING-ROOM. - -It was the luncheon-hour, and the winter term was drawing to a close. -The dissecting-room was deserted by all save a few enthusiastic -students who had not yet wholly exhausted the mysteries of Meckel's -ganglion, the branches of the internal iliac, or the plantar arch. -For a long time a hush of profound activity had hung over the room, -and the silence had been broken only by the screams of a parrot and -the cry of the cats'-meat-man in the street below; but by degrees the -demoralising influence of approaching holidays had begun to make -itself felt; in fact, to be quite frank, the girls were gossiping. - -It was the dissector of Meckel's ganglion who began it. - -"If you juniors want a piece of advice," she said, laying down her -forceps,--"a thing, by the way, which you never do want, till an -examination is imminent, and even then you don't take it,--you may -have it for nothing. Form a clear mental picture of the -spheno-maxillary fossa. When you have that, the neck of anatomy is -broken. Miss Warden, suppose, just to refresh all our memories, you -run over the foramina opening into the spheno-maxillary fossa, and -the structures passing through them." - -The dissector of the plantar arch groaned. - -"_Don't!_" she entreated in assumed desperation. "With the -examination so near, it makes me quite ill to be asked a question. I -should not dare to go up, if Miss Clark were not going." - -"I should not have thought she was much stand-by." - -"Oh, but she is! If she passes, I may hope to. I was dissecting the -popliteal space the other day, and she asked me if it was Scarpa's -triangle!" - -A murmur of incredulity greeted this statement. - -"She has not had an inferior extremity," said a young girl, turning -away from the cupboard in which the skeleton hung. "You can only -learn your anatomy by dissecting yourself." - -"It is a heavy price to pay," said she of the spheno-maxillary fossa: -"and a difficult job at the best, I should fancy." - -There was a general laugh, in which the girl at the cupboard joined. - -"Where it is completed by the communicating branch of the dorsalis -pedis," said Miss Warden irrelevantly. "I am no believer in _Ellis -and Ford_ myself," she went on, looking up, "but I do think one might -learn from it the general whereabouts of Scarpa's triangle." - -"Come now, Miss Warden, you know we don't believe that story. Have -you decided whether to go to Edinburgh or Glasgow for your second -professional, Miss Philips?" - -"Oh, Glasgow," said the investigator of the internal iliac, almost -impatiently. "I need all the time I can get. I have not begun to -read the brain and special sense. Where can one get a bullock's eye?" - -"At Dickson's, I fancy." - -"And where can one see a dissection of the ear? It is so -unsatisfactory getting it up from books." - -"There is a model of it in the museum." - -"_Model!_" The word was spoken with infinite contempt. - -"Do you know what it is, Miss Philips? You are thrown away on those -Scotch examinations. Why did you not go in for the London degree?" - -"Matric.," was the laconic response. - -"Oh, the Matric. is nothing!" - -"Besides, I could not afford the time. Six years, even if one was -lucky enough not to get ploughed." - -"Talking of being ploughed," said a student who had just entered the -room, "you won't guess whom I have just met?--Miss Maclean." - -"Miss Maclean?--in London?" - -"In the chemical laboratory at the present moment. She is going up -for her Intermediate again, in July." - -"Who is Miss Maclean?" asked the girl who had been studying the -skeleton. - -There was a general exclamation. - -"Not to know her, my dear," said the new-comer, "argues -yourself--quite beneath notice. Miss Maclean is one of the -Intermediate Chronics." - -"Miss Maclean is an extremely clever girl," said Miss Warden. - -"When I first came to this school," said Miss Philips, "I wrote to my -people that women medical students were very much like other folks, -but that one or two were really splendid women; and I instanced Miss -Maclean." - -"The proof of the student is the examination." - -"That is not true--except very broadly. You passed your Intermediate -at the first go-off, but none of us would think of comparing you to -Miss Maclean." - -"Thank you," was the calm reply. "I always did appreciate plain -speaking. It is quite true that I never went in for very wide -reading, nor for the last sweet thing in theories; but I have a good -working knowledge of my subjects all the same--at least I had at the -time I passed." - -"Miss Maclean is too good a student; that is what is the matter with -her." - -The dissector of Meckel's ganglion laughed. "Miss Maclean is awfully -kind and helpful," she said; "but I shall never forget the day when I -asked her to show me the nerve to the vastus externus on her own -dissection. She drew aside a muscle with hooks, and opened up a -complicated system of telephone wires that made my hair stand on end." - -"I know. For one honest nerve with a name, she shows you a dozen -that are nameless; and the number of abnormalities that she contrives -to find is simply appalling." - -"In other words, she has a spirit of genuine scientific research," -said Miss Philips. "It does not say much for the examiners that such -a woman should fail." - -A student who had been studying a brain in the corner of the room, -looked up at this moment, tossing back a mass of short dark hair from -her refined and intellectual face. - -"Poor examiners," she said. "Who would wish to stand in their shoes? -Miss Maclean may be a good student, and she may have a spirit of -genuine scientific research; but nobody fails for either of those -reasons. Miss Maclean sees things very quickly, and she sees them in -a sense exactly. She puts the nails in their right places, so to -speak, and gives them a rap with the hammer; she fits in a great many -more than there is any necessity for, but she does not drive them -home. Then, when the examination comes, some of the most essential -ones have dropped out, and have to be looked for all over again. It -was a fatal mistake, too, to begin her Final work before she had -passed her Intermediate. I don't know what subject Miss Maclean -failed in, but I am not in the least surprised that she failed." - -Her audience heard the last sentence in a kind of nightmare; for Mona -had entered the room, and was standing listening, a few yards behind -the speaker. The girl turned round quickly, when she saw the -conscious glances. - -"I did not know you were there, Miss Maclean," she said proudly, -indignant with herself for blushing. - -Mona drew a stool up to the same table, and sat down. - -"It is I who ought to apologise, Miss Lascelles," she said, "for -listening to remarks that were not intended for me; but I was so much -interested that I did not stop to think. One so seldom gets the -benefit of a perfectly frank diagnosis." - -"I don't know that it was perfectly frank. Some one was abusing the -examiners, and I spoke in hot blood----" - -"It seems to me that statements made in hot blood are the only ones -worth listening to--if we have a germ of poetry in us. Statements -made in cold blood always prove to be truisms when you come to -analyse them." - -"And one thing I said was not even true--I _was_ surprised when you -failed." - -Mona was not listening. "What you said was extremely sensible," she -said, "but so neatly put that one is instinctively on one's guard -against it. It is a dreary metaphor--driving in nails; and, if it be -a just one, it describes exactly my quarrel with medicine, from an -examination point of view. Why does not one big nail involve a lot -of little ones? Or rather, why may we not develop like trees, taking -what conduces to our growth, and rejecting the rest? Why are we -doomed to make pigeon-holes, and drive in nails?" - -"But the knowledge a doctor requires is in a sense unlike any other. -He wants it, not for himself, but for other people." - -"And so we come back to the eternal question, whether a man benefits -humanity more by self-development or self-sacrifice? Does knowledge -that is fastened on as an appendage ever do any good? Have not the -great specialists, the men of genius, who are looked upon as towers -of strength, worked mainly at the thing they enjoyed working at?" - -"Yes," said Miss Lascelles, "but they passed their examinations -first." - -Mona laughed. "True," she said, "I own the soft impeachment; and -there you have the one and only argument in favour of girls beginning -to study medicine when they are quite young. It is so easy for them -to get up facts and tables." - -"I think one requires to get up less, in the way of facts and tables, -for the London than for any other examination. It is more honest, -more searching, than any other." - -Mona smiled--a very sad little smile. "Perhaps," she said. - -"I don't know what you mean by knowledge that is fastened on as an -appendage never doing any good," said the girl who held that the -proof of the student was the examination; "I don't profess to have -found any mysterious food for my intellectual growth in the action -and uses of rhubarb, but I don't find rhubarb any the less -efficacious on that account when I prescribe it." - -"But you open up a pretty wide field for thought when you ask -yourself, Why rhubarb rather than anything else?" - -"It is cheap," said the girl frivolously, "and it is always at hand." - -No one vouchsafed any reply to this. - -"You have surely done enough to those brain sections for one day, -Miss Lascelles," said Mona; "won't you come and lunch with me? It is -only a few minutes' walk to my rooms." - -The girl hesitated. "Thank you," she said suddenly--"I will. I -shall be ready in five minutes." - -She slipped from her high stool, and stood putting away her things--a -tiny figure scarcely bigger than a child, yet full of character and -dignity. - -"In the meantime come and demonstrate this tiresome old artery, Miss -Maclean," said Miss Philips. "I am getting hopelessly muddled." - -"If you knew the surroundings in which I have spent the last six -months," said Mona, smiling, "you would not expect me to know more -than the name of the internal iliac artery. I shall be very glad to -come and look at your dissection though, if I may." - -"You see I have not forgotten the kindness you showed me when I first -began." - -"I don't remember any kindness on my part. You were kind enough to -let me refresh my memory on your dissection, I know." - -"That's one way of putting it. Do you remember my asking you how -closed tubes running through the body could do it any good?" - -"Yes; and I remember how delighted I was with the intelligence of the -question. Heigh-ho! what a child you seemed to me then!" - -She took the forceps in her hand, and in a moment the old enthusiasm -came back. - -"How very interesting!" she said. "Look at this deep epigastric." - -And a quarter of an hour had passed before she remembered her guest -and her luncheon. - -"I am so sorry," she said, pulling off the sleeves she had donned for -the moment. "Is anybody going to dissect during the summer term? -Shall I be able to get a part?" - -The two girls walked home together to Mona's rooms, Miss Lascelles's -diminutive figure, in its half-æsthetic, half-babyish gown and cape, -forming a curious contrast to that of her companion. - -"I really do apologise most humbly for my thoughtlessness," said Mona. - -"Don't," replied the other, swinging her ungloved hand and raising -her slow pleasant voice more than was necessary in the quiet street; -"one does not see too much enthusiasm in the world. It is good to -have you back." - -"I feel rather like a Rip Van Winkle, as you may suppose." - -"Yes. The students seem to get younger every year. It is a terrible -pity. One does not see how they are ever to take the place of some -of the present seniors. What can they know of life?" - -"And, as a natural consequence, the supply of medical women will -exceed the demand in the next ten years--in this country. After -that, things will level themselves, I suppose; but at present, if a -woman is to succeed, she must be better than the average man." - -"Whereas at present we are getting mainly average women, and of -course the average woman is inferior to the average man." - -"Heretic!" - -"Oh, but wait till women have had their chance! When they are really -educated, things will be very different." - -"Do you think so? If I did not believe in women as they are now, -apart from a mythical posse, I should be miserable indeed. I have a -great respect for higher education, but there is such a thing as -Mother Nature as well." - -"Even Mother Nature has only had her say for half the race." - -They entered the house, and presently sat down to the luncheon-table. - -"Explanations are always a mistake," said Miss Lascelles suddenly. - -"Always," said Mona, "and especially when there is no occasion for -them." - -"----but I should like to tell you that I thought out that nail -metaphor (God forgive the term!) in relation to myself originally. -It is because I am so familiar with that weakness in myself, that I -recognised, or fancied I recognised, it in you. I think our minds -are somewhat alike, though, of course, you have a much fresher and -brighter way of looking at things than I." - -"----and I am the profounder student," she added mentally. - -"Explanations are not always a mistake," said Mona. "It was very -kind of you to make that one. I should be glad to think my cost of -mind was like yours, but I am afraid it is only the superficial -resemblance which Giuseppe's violins bore to those of the master." - -"It is pleasant, is it not, to leave dusty museums now and then, and -feel Science growing all around one? And what I love about London -University is, that it allows for that kind of thing in its Honours -papers. It is a case of 'This ought ye to have done, and not have -left the other undone.' But it is difficult to find time for both." - -"Ay, especially when one has to find time for so many other things as -well." - -"Yes. I feel that intensely. I hate to be insulated. I must touch -at more points than one. But I do try to work conscientiously, or -rather I don't try. It is my nature. Study is a pure delight to me." - -"I expect you will be taking honours in all four subjects." - -"I find it a great help in any case to do the honours work: it is so -much more practical and useful; but it does take a lot of time. I -find it impossible to work more than ten hours a day----" - -Mona laid down the fish-slice in horror. - -"Ten hours a day!" she exclaimed. - -"Yes; I tried twelve, but I could not keep it up." - -"I should hope not. I call eight hours spurting. I only read for -six, as a rule, and for the last fortnight before an examination, -only two." - -"Why?" - -"I can't read at the end. That is the ruin of me. Up to the last -fortnight, I seem to know more than most of my fellow-students; but -then I collapse, while they--they withdraw into private life. What -mystic rites and incantations go on there I can't even divine; but -they emerge all armed _cap-à-pie_, conquering and to conquer, while I -crawl out from my lethargy to fail." - -"You have the consolation of knowing that you really know your work -better than they." - -"Do you know, I have had nearly enough of that kind of consolation? -I could make shift now to do with an inferior, more tangible kind." - -"You will get that too this time." - -Mona sighed. "_How_ I hope so!" she said. "Have some more Chablis, -and let us drink to our joint success." - -"I confess I was rather surprised that Miss Reynolds passed. I am -not given to meddling in other people's affairs; but if Miss Reynolds -is ever to take her degree at all, it was quite time you came back. -Have you seen her yet?" - -"Only for a few minutes. She is coming to spend the evening with me." - -"You know she used to hide a capacity for very earnest work behind an -aggravatingly frivolous exterior. Now it is just the other way. She -professes to be in earnest, but I am sure she is doing nothing. You -will wonder how I know, when I am not at hospital; but quite a number -of the students have spoken of it. She never read widely. The -secret of her success was that she took good notes of the lectures, -and then got them up. But now they say she is taking no notes at -all, scarcely. It was very much against her, of course, coming in in -the middle of term; but one would have predicted that that would only -have made her work the harder." - -"I don't think so. That is not what I should have predicted. She -really worked too hard last summer, and a thorough reaction is a good -sign. I think that is quite sufficient to account for what you say. -Miss Reynolds is a healthy animal, and one may depend upon her -instincts to be pretty correct. She will accomplish all the more in -the end, for letting her mind lie fallow this year." - -But though Mona spoke with apparent certainty, she felt rather -uneasy. Lucy's letters had been few and unsatisfactory of late; and -her manner, when she met her old friend at the station, had been more -unsatisfactory still. - -"I can't force her confidence," Mona thought, when Miss Lascelles was -gone; "but I hope she will tell me what is the matter. Poor little -soul!" - - -It was pretty late in the evening when Lucy arrived, pale and tired. -"I have kept you waiting for dinner," she said; "I am so sorry. A -fractured skull came in just as I was leaving, and I waited to see -them trephine. They don't think it will be successful, and--it made -me rather faint. But it's an awfully neat operation." - -Mona went to the table and poured out a glass of wine. "Drink that," -she said, "and then come to my bedroom and have a good splash. I -will do all the talking during dinner; and when you are quite rested, -you shall tell me the news." - -"Life will be a different thing, now you are back," Lucy said, as -they seated themselves at the table. "What lovely flowers!" - -"You ought to admire them. Aunt Maud sent them from your beloved -Cannes. I do so admire that Frisia. It is white and virginal, like -Doris." - -The last remark was added hastily, for at the mention of Cannes, Lucy -had blushed violently and incomprehensibly. - -"I was at the School to-day," Mona went on. - -"Were you really? It must have been horrid going back." - -"It was very horrid to find the organic solutions in the chemical -laboratory at such a low ebb. But I suppose they will be filled up -again for the summer term." - -"Oh, you know all those stupid old tests!" - -"It is precisely the part of the examination that I am most afraid -of. I have not your luck--or power of divination. Why don't they -ask us to find whether a hydroxyl group is present in a solution, or -something of that kind?" - -"Thank heaven, they don't!" - -"I wonder what a scientific chemist would say, if he were asked to -identify two organic mixtures in an hour and a half!" - -"I did it in half an hour." - -"Yes, but how? By tasting, and guessing, and adding I in KI, or -perchloride of iron." - -Lucy helped herself to more potato. - -"I seem to have heard these sentiments before," she said. - -Mona laughed. "Yes; and you are in a fair way to hear them pretty -frequently again, unless you keep out of my way for the next four -months." - -"Did you go into the dissecting-room?" - -"Yes; and what do you think I found them dissecting?" - -"Anything new?" - -"Quite, I hope, in that connection--my unworthy self," and Mona told -the story of her little adventure. - -"Well, really," said Lucy indignantly, "those juniors want a good -setting down. I never heard such a piece of bare-faced impudence in -my life. What on earth do they know about you, except that you are -one of the best students in the School?" - -"There, there, firebrand!" said Mona, much relieved to see the old -Lucy again, "I think you and I have been known to say as much as that -of our betters. In truth, it did me a world of good. I was very -morbid about going back to the anatomy-room--partly because I had got -out of tune with the work, partly because I knew nobody would know -what to say to me, and there would be an awkward choice between -constrained remarks and more constrained silences. It was a great -relief to find myself and my failures taken frankly for granted. How -I wish people could learn that, unless they can be superlatively -tactful, it is better not to be tactful at all; for of tact it is -more true than of anything else, that _ars est celare artem_. But, -to return to the point we started from, there is a great deal of -truth in what Miss Lascelles said. For the next four months I am -going to spend my life _driving in nails_." - -Lucy shivered. "Couldn't you screw them in?" she suggested. "It -would make so much less noise." - -Mona reflected for a moment. "No," she said, "there is something in -the idea of a good sharp rap with the hammer that gives relief to my -injured feelings." And she brought her closed fist on the table with -a force that sent a ruddy glow across her white knuckles. - -"And now," she said, "it is your innings. I want to know so many -things. How do you like hospital?" - -"Oh, it is awfully interesting;" but Lucy's manner was not -enthusiastic. "I spotted a presystolic murmur yesterday." - -"H'm. Who said it was a presystolic? Did not you find it very cold -coming back to London from the sunny South?" - -Lucy shivered again. "It was horrid," she said. - -"And you really had a good, gay, light-hearted time?" - -It was a full minute before the girl answered, "Oh yes," she said -hurriedly and emphatically. "It was delightful. I--I was not -thinking." - -"That is just what you were doing. A penny for your thoughts." - -Again there was a silence. Evidently Lucy was strongly tempted to -make a clean breast of it. - -"I am in my father's black books," she said at last. - -Mona looked at her searchingly. That the statement was true, she did -not doubt; but that this was the sole cause of Lucy's evident -depression, she did not believe for a moment. - -"How have you contrived to get there?" she asked. - -"It is not such a remarkable feat as you think. I went to Monte -Carlo with the Munros." - -"Did he object?" - -"Awfully! You see, when I came to write about it, I thought I would -wait and tell them when I got home: but Mr Wilson, one of the -churchwardens, saw me there, and the story leaked out." - -"But you did not play?" - -"No--not to call playing. Evelyn was so slow--I pushed her money -into place with the cue. But my father does not think so much of -that. It is my being there at all that he objects to." - -"Just for once?" - -"Just for once. He said you would not have gone." - -"That is a profound mistake. I want very much to see a -gambling-saloon, and I certainly should have gone. I will tell him -so the first time I see him." - -"Oh, Mona, don't! What is the use? Two blacks don't make a white." - -"Truly; but, on the other hand, you can't make a black white by -painting it. Your father thinks me so much better than I am, that he -binds me over to be honest with him. Besides, I want to defend my -point. Of course, I should not go if I thought it wrong. But, Lucy, -that is not a thing to worry about. It can't be undone now, even if -you wished it; and your father would be the last man in the world to -want you to distress yourself fruitlessly. Of all the men I know, he -is the most godlike, in his readiness to say, 'Come now, and let us -reason together.'" - -"I am not distressing myself," Lucy said, brightening up with an -evident effort. "Did I ever tell you, Mona, about the boy we met at -Monte Carlo? He had got into a fix and was nearly frantic. We -begged Lady Munro to speak to him, and she invited him to Cannes, and -ultimately she and Sir Douglas sent him home. But it was such fun! -He proved to be a medical student, a St Kunigonde's man. I was alone -in the sitting-room when he called,--such a pretty sunny room it was, -with a sort of general creamy-yellow tone that made my peacock dress -simply lovely! Of course we fell to comparing notes. He goes in for -his second examination at the Colleges in July, and you should have -seen his face when I told him I had passed my Intermediate M.B. -Lond.! I really believe it had never occurred to him that any woman -under thirty, and devoid of spectacles, could go in for her -Intermediate. He is coming to see me at the Hall." - -A poorer counterfeit of Lucy's racy way of telling a story could -scarcely have been imagined. Mona wondered much, but she knew now -that nothing more was to be got out of her friend that night. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVIII. - -CONFIDENCES. - -It was a hot day in June, and "blessed Bloomsbury" was converted into -one great bakehouse. The flags in Gower Street radiated out a -burning glow; the flower-sellers had much ado to preserve the -semblance of freshness in their dainty wares; and those of the -inhabitants who were the proud possessors of outside blinds were an -object of envy to all their neighbours. - -Mona was sitting at her writing-table, pen in hand, and with a -formidable blue schedule before her. She was looking out of the -window, but in her mind's eye the dusty, glaring street had given -place to the breezy ramparts of Castle Maclean; and, instead of the -noise of the traffic, she heard the soft plash of the waves. -Presently she laid down her pen, and leaned against the scorching -window-sill, with a smile, not on her lips, but in her eyes. - - "My spirit and my God shall be - My seaward hill, my boundless sea," - -she quoted softly. - -"What, Mona, caught poetising!" said Lucy unceremoniously entering -the room. - -"Far from it," said Mona drily. "I was engaged on the most prosaic -work it is possible to conceive, filling in the schedule for my -Intermediate. It seems to me that I have spent the greater part of -my life filling in the schedule for my Intermediate. If I fail again -I shall employ an amanuensis for the sole purpose. Come and help me. -Full Christian name and surname?" - -"Mona Margaret Maclean." - -"Oh, drop the Margaret! I am prepared to take the chance of there -being another Mona Maclean. Age, last birthday?" - -"Ninety-nine." - -"No doubt I shall fill that into an Intermediate schedule some day, -but not yet awhile. I wonder if they will have reformed the -Practical Chemistry by that time? Or will the dear old M.B. Lond. -have lost its _cachet_ altogether? It is warm to-day, is it not?" - -"Frightfully! I met Miss Lascelles just now, and she informed me, in -her bell-like voice, that if we were quite civilised we should go -about without any clothes at all just now. I told her I hoped the -relics of barbarism would last out my time." - -"Then I presume Miss Lascelles will not throw her pearls before swine -again. Are you going to hospital?" - -"Not to-day. Hospital is unbearable in this weather. The air is -thick with microbes." - -Mona looked at her friend reflectively. "Suppose you come down to -Richmond with me," she said, "and blow away a few of the microbes on -the river?" - -"Oh, Mona, how lovely! But can you spare the time?" - -"Yes, I began early to-day. But we will have some lunch first. In -the meantime I will sing you my last song, and you shall criticise." - -"Are you still going on with your singing lessons? I can't think how -you find time for it." - -"I think it saves time in the end. It is a grand safety-valve; and -besides--a woman is robbed of half her armour if she cannot use her -voice." - -Her hands ran lightly up and down the keys of the piano, and she -began to sing Schubert's _Ave Maria_. - -"Miss Dalrymple says that is my _chef-d'œuvre_," she said, when -she had finished. "What think you?" - -But Lucy made no answer. - -"Mona," she said a minute later, "do you think it is worth while to -go on the river, after all? It is rather a fag, and why should we?" - -Her voice was husky, and suggestive of infinite weariness. Mona rose -from the piano, and deliberately, almost brutally, took the girl's -face between her hands, and turned it to the light. She was not -mistaken. The pretty eyes were dim with tears. - -"Lucy," she said, "you and I have pretended long enough. What is the -use of friendship, if we never fall back upon it in time of need? I -want you to tell me what it was that spoilt your visit to Cannes." - -"Nothing," said Lucy, with burning face, "unless, perhaps, my own -idiocy. Oh, Mona, you dear old bully, there is not anything to tell! -I thought I was always going to get the best of it with men, and now -a man has got the best of it with me. It's only fair. Now you know -the whole story. Despise me as much as you like." - -"When I take to despising people, I imagine I shall have to begin -even nearer home than with my plucky little Lucy. Will it be any use -to tell me about it, do you think? Or is the whole story better -buried?" - -"I can't bury it. And yet there is positively nothing to tell. When -I look back upon it all, I cannot honestly say that the flirtation -went any farther than half-a-dozen others have gone; but this time, -somehow, everything was different." - -"Is he a friend of the Munros?" - -Lucy nodded. "Yes--you know--Mr Monteith. He arrived at the hotel -the night of our first dance. I was wearing my mermaid costume for -the first time, and--I saw him looking at me again and again. He was -not particularly handsome, but there was a sort of bloom about him, -don't you know? He made me feel so common and work-a-day. And then -when I danced with him I felt as if I had never danced with a man in -my life before. I did not see very much of him;--Lady Munro was so -particular:--but one afternoon a party of us walked up to the chapel -on the hill, and he and I got apart from the others somehow. It was -the first time I had seen the Maritime Alps, and I never again saw -them as they were that day in the sunset light. It was like looking -into a golden future. Well, he went away. I was awfully -low-spirited for a day or two; but somehow, whenever I thought of -that evening on the hill, I felt as if the future was full of -beautiful possibilities. One day we went to Monte Carlo, and there I -met him again. He asked if I would like him to come back for a day -or two to Cannes, and I said I did not care. He never came. -Sometimes I wish I had begged him to,--yes, Mona, I have sunk as low -as that--and sometimes I think he must have read my poor little -secret all along, and I could kill myself for very shame. Oh, Mona, -I wish you could take me out of myself!" - -"You poor little soul! Lucy, dear, it sounds very trite and -commonplace; but, by hook or by crook, you must get an interest in -your hospital work, and go at it as hard as ever you can." - -"It is no use. I hate hospital. I wonder now how I ever could care -so much about prizes and marks and examinations. It is all such -child's-play." - -"Yes; but sorrow is not child's-play, and pain and death are not -child's-play. It is only a question of working at it hard enough, -old woman. You are bound to become interested in it in time, and -that is the only way to get rid of yourself;--though it is strange -teaching, perhaps, to come from self-centred me. They say we women -of this generation have sacrificed a good deal of our birthright; -don't let us throw away the grand compensation, the power to light -our candles when the sun goes down. Do you remember Werther's -description of the country lass whose sweetheart forsakes her, taking -with him all the interest in her life? We at least have other -interests, Lucy, and we can, if we try hard enough, turn the key on -the suite of enchanted rooms, and live in the rest of the house." - -"The rest of my house is a poky hole!" - -Mona sighed sympathetically. "No matter," she said resolutely; "we -must just set to work, and make it something better than a poky hole." - -Further conversation was prevented for the time by the entrance of -the luncheon-tray. - -"Well, is it to be Richmond?" said Mona, when the meal was over. - -Lucy blushed. "I have a great mind to go to hospital, after all," -she said. "I don't think it is quite so hot as it was." - -"No, I think there is a suspicion of a breeze. _Au revoir_! Come -back soon." - -I wish I could honestly say that Mona profited as much by Lucy's -example as Lucy had by Mona's preaching; but I am forced to record -that she did not open a book, nor return to her little laboratory, -for the rest of the day. For a long time she sat in her -rocking-chair with a frown on her brow. "I wonder if he has only -been playing with her," she said--"the cad!" Then another thought -crossed the outskirts of her mind. At first it scarcely entered the -limits of her consciousness; but, like the black dog in _Faust_, it -went on and on, in ominous, ever-narrowing circles, and she was -forced to recognise that she must grapple with it sooner or later. -Then she put up her hands to cover her face, although there was no -one there to see, and the question sounded in her very ears--"What if -_he_ has only been playing with _me_?" - -What then, Mona? Lock the door on the suite of enchanted rooms, and -live in the rest of the house! But she never thought of her advice -to Lucy. She threw herself on the couch, and lay there for a little -while in an agony of shame. After all her lofty utterances, had she -given herself away to a man who had not even asked for her? Why had -he not spoken just one word, to save her from this torture? - -By some curious chain of associations the words flashed into her -mind-- - - "Denn, was man schwarz auf weiss besitzt, - Kann man getrost nach Hause tragen." - - -She laughed a little breathlessly, and drew her hand across her damp -forehead. - -"I am a fool and a coward," she said; "I will ask Dr Alice Bateson to -give me a tonic. What do mere words matter, after all, between -people like him and me?" - -She walked up to a calendar that hung on the wall, and carefully -counted the days till the second week in August. Then she sighed -regretfully. - -"Poor little Lucy," she said, "what an unsympathetic brute she must -have thought me!" - - - - -CHAPTER XLIX. - -THE INTERMEDIATE. - -The classic precincts of Burlington House were once more invaded by a -motley crowd of nervous, excited young men, who hung about the steps -and entrance-hall, poring over their note-books, exchanging "tips," -or coolly discussing the points of the women. - -"None of them are so good-looking as the little girl with the red -hair, who was up last year," Mona overheard one of them say, and she -made a mental note to inform Lucy of her conquest. - -About half-a-dozen girls were already assembled in the cloak-room -when she entered. - -"Well, Miss Maclean, how are you feeling?" - -"Hardened," said Mona, taking off her hat, but she did not look -particularly hardened. - - "'In my heart if calm at all - If any calm, a calm despair,'" - -quoted Miss Lascelles. - -"Do tell me about the cardiac branches of the pneumo-gastric," said -some one. - -Miss Lascelles proceeded to give the desired information, while the -others discussed the never-settled question of the number of marks -required for a pass. - -"It seems to me that _x_ equals the most you can make plus one," and -Mona sighed resignedly. - -"Now, ladies, please," said an imposing individual in broadcloth, and -the little party was marshalled through the hall to the -examination-room. - -"Why has Miss Maclean done her hair like that?" said a student with a -mind at leisure from itself. "It is not half so becoming as the old -way." - -Nor was it. Mona had made the alteration in order to change the -outline of her head as much as possible, for she was most anxious -that Dr Dudley should not recognise her, in surroundings that did not -admit of an explanation on her part. She did not venture to raise -her eyes as she entered the room, and as soon as she was seated, she -bent low over the pink and green cahiers that lay on her desk. A -minute later the examination papers were distributed, and for three -hours neither Dudley nor any other human being had any existence for -her. She wrote on till the last moment--wrote on, in fact, till the -examiner, Dudley's "monument of erudition," came up and claimed her -paper. - -"I think I have seen you before," he said kindly. - -"Twice," said Mona smiling, "and I am afraid you are in a fair way to -see me again." - -He looked at her with some amusement and interest in his shrewd -Scotch face. - -"I don't think you are much afraid of that," he said. - -Mona followed him with her eye, as he turned away, and in another -moment saw him at the other end of the room, shaking hands very -cordially with Dr Dudley. She turned her back, and, hastily -gathering together her pens and coloured chalks, she left the room. -Her heart beat fast with apprehension till she reached the open air; -and, as she walked up to Regent Street for lunch, she fancied every -moment that she heard his step behind her. - -But she need not have feared. For the three days that the written -examination lasted, Dudley was aware of a patch of colour at the -opposite side of the hall, where the women sat; but he was too -indifferent and preoccupied to investigate its details. He felt so -old among those boys and girls; his one wish was to get the -examination over, and be done with it. - -Now that she knew where he sat, Mona had no difficulty in avoiding -his short-sighted eyes. In fact, as time went on, she grew bolder, -and loved to look on from a distance, while Dudley's fellow-students -gathered round and assailed him with a torrent of questions, the -moment each paper was over. It was pleasant to see his relations -with those lads,--the friendly raillery which they took in such good -part. Clearly they looked upon him as a very good fellow, and a mine -of wisdom. - -"You are mere boys to him," thought Mona proudly. "He is willing to -play with you; but I am his friend!" - -Wednesday evening came at last, and with a mingled sense of -excitement, and of weariness that amounted to physical pain, Mona -went down the steps. - -Lucy was awaiting her in the street, and they betook themselves to -the nearest shop where they could get afternoon tea. - -"Well," said Lucy, "what is your final judgment?" - -Mona sighed. "Anatomy, very fair," she said--"morning paper -especially; Physiology--between you and me and the lamp-post--the -best paper I ever did in my life; Chemistry, safe, I think; Materia -Medica--better at least than last time." - -"_Brava!_" cried Lucy. - -"Oh, don't! I ought not to have said so much. It is tempting the -Fates." - -"No matter. With a record like that you can afford to tempt the -Fates. Oh, Mona, I do hope you have got the Physiology medal!" She -raised her teacup. "Here's to Mona Maclean, Gold Medallist in -Physiology!" - -"No, no, no," said Mona. "My paper is not on those lines at all, and -the Practical is still to come." - -"And who is better prepared for that than you, with your private -laboratory, and all the rest of it?" - -"I have often told you that the best work of the world is rarely done -with the best instruments." - -Lucy groaned. "If three days' examination won't keep her from -moralising," she said, "it may safely be predicted that nothing will. -What a prospect?" - -Mona wrote to Rachel that night, fixing the day and hour of her -arrival at Borrowness some three weeks later; and the next day she -went down to Bournemouth to visit some friends. Only a very unlikely -chance could have taken Dudley to Bournemouth too, but Mona never saw -a tall and lanky figure on the cliffs, without a sudden wild fancy -that it might be he. There was a good deal of gladness in her -agitation at these times, but she did not really want to see him -there. No, no; let things take their course! Let it all come about -quietly and naturally, at dear old Castle Maclean, in the second week -of August! - -She returned to town a few days before the Practical Examination, and -found a letter from Rachel awaiting her. - - -"MY DEAR COUSIN,--I was very pleased to get your letter, telling me -when you were coming to pay me a visit; but there has been a great -change in my life since last I wrote you. You know I have never been -the same being since you went away. That Miss Jenkins, that you -thought so much of, did very well in the shop, and was good at -figures, but she was not like one of my own folk. Then she was a -U.P., and she had friends of her own that she always wanted to go to -in the evening; and many's the time I've been so dull that if it -hadn't been for Sally I believe I'd have gone clean daft. I wrote -and told Mary Ann about it, and she wrote back saying, wouldn't I go -and join her in America? Of course I never thought of such a thing, -but I spoke to my friends about her writing, and a few days after I -got a very good offer for the goodwill of the business. It really -was like a leading, but I never thought of that at the time. Then, -without waiting to hear from me, Mary Ann wrote again, begging me to -come. There was word of a baby coming, and naturally at such a time -she took a longing for her own flesh and blood. She never was one of -your independent ones. Then I began to think I would like to go, but -I'd an awful dread of the sea and the strangeness. Well, would you -believe it? four days ago, Mrs Anderson came in and told me her -brother was sailing to America in about ten days, with all his family -from Glasgow, and he would be very glad to look after me if I would -take my passage by the same steamer. So that settled it somehow. -It's a queer-like thing, after sitting still all one's life, to make -such a move all in a minute; but there seems to be the hand of -Providence in it all, and Mary Ann says some of their acquaintances -are most genteel, and the minister of the Baptist Chapel preaches the -word with power. - -"So you see, my dear, I shall be sailing from Glasgow the very day -you were meaning to come to me. I am all in an upturn, as you may -think, with a sale in the house and what not; but if you would come a -week sooner, I'd be very pleased to see you. If you could have been -happy to stay with me, I never would have thought of all this; but I -never could have gone on as I was doing, though it is a terrible -trial to break off all the old ties. - -"You must write to me often and tell me what you are doing, and -whether there is any word of your settling down in life. - - "Your affectionate Cousin, - "RACHEL SIMPSON. - -"_P.S._--Do you know of anything that is good for the seasickness?" - - -It was some time before Mona grasped the full consequences of this -letter. She even allowed herself to wonder for a moment whether Mary -Ann's difficulty in finding a lady-help had anything to do with this -cordial invitation. But that fancy was soon crowded out of her mind -by the formidable situation that had to be faced. No Rachel, no -shop,--nothing more outside of herself to blush for; but, on the -other hand, no wind-swept coast, no Castle Maclean, no long-postponed -explanation, no Dr Dudley! The truth came upon her with a force that -was absolutely crushing. - -"I might have known it," she said, looking out of the window, with -white lips and unseeing eyes. "I was counting on it too much. It -has been the pivot on which my whole life has turned." - -Then a bright idea occurred to her. Auntie Bell had plenty of spare -room in the farmhouse, and she was sure the dear old woman would be -glad to have a visit from her at any time. - -But, when she timidly suggested it, Auntie Bell wrote back in great -distress to say that, after much persuasion, she had let her -up-stairs rooms to an artist for August. She would be so proud and -pleased if Mona would come to her in September. - -But Mona had promised to join the Munros on the 15th of August. - -There still remained the chance of the Practical Examination; but -Mona knew by experience that the initials D. and M. came sufficiently -far apart in the alphabet to make it very unlikely that the owners of -them would be called up at the same time. - -Nor were they. Neither at Burlington House, nor at the Embankment, -did Mona see a trace of her friend. At the Practical Physiology -examination, all the students were called up together, but Mona did -not take the pass paper; she went in for honours the following day, -and her first glance round the handful of enthusiasts assembled for -six hours' unbroken work was sufficient to convince her that Dr -Dudley was not there. In this subject at least he had evidently -contented himself with a pass. In the bitterness of her -disappointment, she cared little for the results of the examination, -and so worked coolly with a steady hand. When she was called up for -her Viva she vaguely felt that she was doing better than her best, -but she did not care. - -At last it was over--the examination which had once seemed to be -wellnigh the aim and end of existence; and now, though conscious of -having done well, she threw herself on the hearth-rug, in a fit of -depression that was almost maddening. - -"Oh God," she groaned, "help me! I cannot bear it!" - - - - -CHAPTER L. - -SUCCESS OR FAILURE? - -Once more the lists were posted at the door of the university, and -once more a group of eager faces had gathered round to read them. -Presently a tall figure came swinging down the street, and, ignoring -the Pass-list altogether, made straight for the Honours. - -It was all right,--better than he had dared to hope. - - ANATOMY. - _First Class._ - - DUDLEY, RALPH, St Kunigonde's Hospital. - Exhibition and Gold Medal. - - -Ralph's heart gave a great leap of thanksgiving. - -"Now," he said almost audibly, "I can go down to Borrowness, and ask -Miss Maclean in so many words to be my wife." - -As if the paper in front of him had heard the words, his eye caught -the name Maclean below his own. He looked again. Yes, there was no -imagination about it. - - PHYSIOLOGY. - _First Class._ - - MACLEAN, MONA, Lond. Sch. of Med. for Women. - Exhibition and Gold Medal. - - -Mona Maclean--_her_ name was Margaret. She had told him so that day -at Castle Maclean, and he had seen it in a well-worn prayer-book in -Mr Ewing's church. But the coincidence was a curious one. He turned -sharply round and touched a fellow-student on the arm. - -"Who," he said hastily, "is Miss Mona Maclean?" - -"Miss Maclean? Oh, she is one of their great dons at the Women's -School. She took a First Class in Botany the year I passed my Prel. -Sci." - -Certainly it was only a coincidence. No doubt this woman was an -out-and-out blue-stocking, in spite of her pretty name; and even in -the matter of brains he did not believe she was a patch upon his -princess. - -He knew his old aunt would be delighted to hear of his success, but -he would not telegraph, lest by any chance the news should leak round -to Mona. He wanted to tell her himself. She had been so interested -the day he had told her the story of his life. He had not concealed -its failures, and he wanted to tell her with his own lips of this -first little bit of success. For, after all, it was a success to be -M'Diarmid's medallist. No man who had scamped his work could -possibly hold such a position as that; and Miss Maclean was so quick, -so sympathetic, she would see in a moment how much it meant. It -seemed almost too good to be true, that this time to-morrow he would -be sitting with her, alone on her storm-tossed battlements, free to -talk of his love, and to draw her secret from half-willing lips--free -to build all sorts of castles in the air, and to sketch the bold -outline of a perfect future. - -He looked at his watch, and wondered how he was to exist till eight -o'clock, when the night express left for Edinburgh. He scarcely -heard the congratulations that were heaped upon him by one and -another of his friends, so eager was he to hear what she would say. - -The examination was over now--well over. He was free for the first -time to give the reins to his thoughts, and to follow whithersoever -they beckoned; and a wild dance they led him, over giddy heights that -made his brain reel and his pulse leap high with infinite longing. -The dusty streets might have been Elysian fields for all he knew; in -so far as he saw outward things at all, he saw them through a -rose-hued medium of love. Introspection was almost dead within -him--almost, but not quite--enough remained to fill him with -intensest gratitude that this complete abandonment should have come -to him. - - "Oh let the solid ground not fail beneath my feet, - Before my life has found what some have found so sweet!" - -How often he had uttered those words, scarcely daring to hope that -his prayer would be granted; and now he had found what he longed for, -and surely no man before had ever found it so sweet. - -"Holloa! cutting old friends already?" said a merry voice in his ear. -"Some people are very quickly blinded by success." - -"Why, Melville, what brings you here?" - -"I was on my way to the university to find out how many medals you -have got. Your face proclaims four at least." - -"I am sorry it is so deceptive. I have only got one." - -"Anatomy?" - -"Anatomy." - -"Played! Anything else?" - -"No. A second class in chemistry." - -"And that's nothing? We have grown very high and mighty all of a -sudden. Who's got the medal in physiology?" - -"A woman!" - -"Name?" - -"Miss--Maclean, I think;" and Dudley was amazed to find himself -blushing. - -"When do you go down?" - -"To-night." - -"That's right! But look here, dear boy. Take a word of advice with -you. Keep out of the way of the _siren_!" - -"You go to----!" Dudley stopped short, but his eyes flashed fire. - -"It's a curious thing," he observed cynically, "how a man can go -through half his life without learning to hold his tongue about his -private affairs." - -Melville raised his eyebrows, and whistled a few notes of a popular -music-hall ditty. - -For about a hundred yards the two walked on in silence. Then Ralph -put his hand in his friend's arm. - -"Don't talk to me about it, Jack," he said, "there's a good fellow, -but I have been the most confounded snob that ever lived." - -Nothing more was said till they parted at the street corner, and then -Melville stood and watched his friend out of sight. - -"Another good man gone wrong!" he observed philosophically; and, -shrugging his shoulders, he made his way back to the hospital. - - -The long day and the interminable night were over. - - "Even an Eastern Counties train - Must needs come in at last." - - -And Dudley did actually find himself alighting at the familiar little -station on a bright August morning. Never before had his home seemed -so attractive to him. The strong east wind was like wine, fleecy -clouds chased each other across a brilliant blue sky, and the first -mellow glow was just beginning to tinge the billowy acres of corn. -The tall trees at the foot of his aunt's garden threw broken shadows -across the quiet lawn. The beds were bright with old-fashioned -flowers, and the house, with its pillared portico, rose, white and -stately, beyond the sweep of the carriage-drive. - -"Welcome home, doctor!" said the gatekeeper's wife, curtseying low as -Ralph passed the lodge. "You're gey late this year. Jeames cam' -through frae Edinbury a fortnight syne." - -"I suppose so," said Ralph, smiling pleasantly; "how is he getting -on?" - -"Vera weel, I thank ye, sir! He's brocht a prize buik wi' him this -time;" and the good woman's face beamed with triumph. To the great -pride of his family, the gatekeeper's son was studying "to be a -meenister." - -Mrs Hamilton came out to the door to meet her nephew, and a pang shot -through Ralph's heart as he saw how frail she looked. - -"Why, I declare," he said, putting his arm round her affectionately, -"my old lady has been missing her scapegrace." - -"Conceited as ever," she said, returning his caress, but the rare -tears stole into her eyes as she spoke. - -"You dear old thing! why didn't you send for me? And Burns, too, -promised to let me know." - -"Nonsense, laddie! There's nothing wrong. I have never been ill. I -am getting to be an old woman, that's all; and I'm not so fond of -east winds as I once was. Run up-stairs while Dobson infuses the -tea, and then come and tell me all about the examination." - -The breakfast parlour was bright with flowers, and the table was -laden with good things. The window stood open, and the bees hummed -in and out in a flood of sunshine. - -"Grouse already!" exclaimed Ralph. - -"Yes; Lord Kirkhope and Sir Roderick have each sent a brace." - -"What it is to live with the belle of the country-side, as they say -in the story-books!" - -"What it is to live with a spoilt and impertinent nephew! Very well -done, Ralph! I have no patience with a man who does not know how to -carve." - -"Carving ought to come easy to the Gold Medallist in Anatomy, -oughtn't it?" he said mischievously. - -"Are you really that?" - -"At your service." - -"And you have not shown it to me yet!" - -"Bless the old darling! I shall not see it myself till May. The -object of the medal is to remind a man of the mountain of learning he -has contrived to--forget!" - -Mrs Hamilton laughed. - -"How long a holiday can you take, Ralph?" she asked presently. - -"A month. I ought to get back to hospital then, if you are--sick of -my company." - -"Oh, I'll be that, never fear! and I suppose you would have no -objection to spending a few weeks with me up in the Highlands, when -you get a little rested. It's not like me, but I've a great longing -for a change." - -"I daresay it would be a good plan," he answered very gravely; and, -quick as she was, she did not guess the throb of dismay that shot -through his heart. - -"You do look tired, Ralph, in spite of yourself," she said a moment -later. "Your room is all ready. Go and lie down for a few hours." - -"No, no," he said restlessly. "I can't sleep during the day. Let us -have a drive; and this afternoon, while you have your nap, I will go -and smool on the beach. That rests me more than anything." - -Smool! Oh Ralph! - - -He never doubted that he would find Mona at Castle Maclean. She went -there so often, and now she must know well that any day might bring -him, and that he would seek her there. He had rehearsed the meeting -so often in his mind; and unconsciously he rehearsed it again this -afternoon, as he strode down the little footpath that led through the -fields to the sea. The tide was out. That was disappointing. -Sun-lit waves, rocking festoons of Fucus on their bosom, had always -formed part of his mental picture; but now the great brown trails -hung dry and motionless, from the burning rocks, in the strong -afternoon sun. - -Never mind! It was of no consequence after all. Two minutes hence, -he and she would have little thought to spare for the tide and the -Fucus. Ralph quickened his steps and leapt up the side of the rock. - -But Castle Maclean was empty. - -"I need not have been in such a confounded hurry," he muttered -irritably, as he looked at his watch. "Miss Simpson's mid-day dinner -won't be over yet." - -But two hours passed away, and no one came. - -Miss Simpson's mid-day dinner must certainly be over now. Ralph was -bitterly disappointed. Miss Maclean had always shown herself so much -quicker, more perceptive, than he had dared to hope. Why did she -fail him now, just when he had depended on her most? It took half -the poetry out of their relationship, to think that she had not -understood, that she had not counted on this meeting as he had. - -He made up his mind to go home; but he overrated his own resolution; -and in an incredibly short space of time, the bell of Miss Simpson's -shop rang as he opened the door. - -The shop was disappointing too. Everything was disappointing to-day! -There was no lack of new goods, but they were displayed with a want -of design and harmony that jarred on his over-strained nerves; and, -to crown all, an "air with variations" was being very indifferently -played on a cracked piano up-stairs. The music stopped at the sound -of the bell, and a young woman came down-stairs. - -"Genus _minx_, species _vulgaris_." A moment was sufficient to -settle that question. Ralph was so taken aback that it did not even -occur to him to ask for india-rubber. - -"Is Miss Simpson in?" he said at last. - -"Oh lor'! no, sir. Miss Simpson sailed for America nearly a week -ago. My pa bought the business, and he means to conduct it on quite -a different scale. What is the first thing I can show you to-day, -air?" - -He tried to ask for Miss Maclean, but he could not bring her name -over his lips; so, lifting his hat, he hastily left the shop. - -He emptied his first glass of wine at dinner, before he ventured to -broach the subject to his aunt. - -"You did not tell me Miss Simpson had emigrated," he said suddenly. - -"Miss Simpson! What Miss Simpson? Bless the boy! he's developing -quite a taste for local gossip. I only heard it myself three or four -days ago. It seems that niece--whom you thought such a genius, by -the way--went to America some time ago, and now her aunt has gone to -join her." - -"_Nonsense!_ I mean"--Ralph laughed rather nervously--"I can't -conceive of any one sending across the Atlantic for old Simpson. -And, besides--that--young lady--wasn't her niece at all, auntie mine. -She was a distant cousin." - -"I think you are mistaken, dear. The _young woman_ told me herself -she was Miss Simpson's niece, and I suppose she ought to know." - -Dimly it occurred to Ralph that he and his aunt must be talking of -two different people; but his mind was in such a whirl of -bewilderment that reflection was impossible, and as soon as dinner -was over, he escaped to his own room, on the true plea of a racking -headache. - -What had happened? Was it all a hideous nightmare, from which he -would awake with infinite relief; or was some evil genius really -turning his life upside down? What an infernal idiot he had been not -to speak out plainly six months ago! And to think that he had waited -only for this examination,--this trumpery bit of child's-play! -Perhaps she had expected him to write, perhaps she had gone to -America in despair; at all events, she had vanished out of his life -like the heroine of a fairy tale, and he had not the vaguest notion -where to look for her. - -Then saner thoughts began to take form in his mind. He was living, -after all, in the latter part of the nineteenth century. People -could not vanish now-a-days and leave no trace. There must be many -in Borrowness who could tell him where she was. - -Yes; but who were they? He knew few people in the place, and he -could not go round from door to door making enquiries. - -At last, with a rush of thankfulness, he bethought himself of Mr -Stuart and Matilda Cookson. Both of them were sure to know where -Miss Maclean had gone. He looked at his watch--yes, it was past his -aunt's bedtime, and not too late to drop in on Stuart. He told the -servants not to sit up if he should be late, and then he walked along -the highroad to Kirkstoun, at a pace few men could have equalled. - -Once more disappointment awaited him. Mr Stuart was away for a -month's holiday, and the manse was occupied by his "supply." Dudley -was certainly not intimate enough with the Cooksons to pay them a -visit at this hour; so he was forced, sorely against his will, to -postpone his enquiries until the next day. - -"I suppose the Cooksons will be away for August too," he said to -himself many times during that restless night; but Fortune favoured -him at last. When he opened the garden-gate next day, he found -Matilda and her father on the lawn. - -"Come away, doctor!" cried Mr Cookson heartily. "I have got some -cigars here that you won't get a chance to smoke every day of your -life. Come and tell us your news!" - -Fully half an hour passed before Dudley contrived to bring the -conversation round to Rachel Simpson's departure. - -"And has Miss Maclean gone to America too?" he said indifferently, -with his eyes fixed on the curling wreaths of tobacco-smoke. - -"Oh, bless my soul, no!" cried Mr Cookson, slapping his visitor on -the knee. "Did you never hear that story? It was -excellent,--excellent! Where do you think I saw Miss Maclean last? -Driving in Hyde Park in as elegant a carriage as ever I wish to see. -There was another lady with her--leaning back, you know, with their -lace and their parasols,"--Mr Cookson attempted somewhat -unsuccessfully to demonstrate the attitude of the ladies in -question,--"and a young man riding alongside. A tip-top turn-out -altogether, I warrant you." - -Dudley's face darkened, but he waited for his host to go on. - -"I had got wind of it before she left us," Mr Cookson continued -complacently, "from something Colonel Lawrence let drop, and we had -her here to dinner; a fine girl, a fine girl! I remember when I was -a boy hearing what a successful man her grandfather was; but her -people had been out of the place so long, one never thought of one of -them coming back. Matilda knew about it all along, it seems; and she -and Miss Maclean were fast friends, but she kept it very close." - -"I found it out by accident," Matilda said with dignity; "but no one -with any perception could see Miss Maclean and question that she was -a lady." - -"I quite agree with you," Dudley said gravely; "but did Miss Maclean -confide to you what induced her to come masquerading down here?" - -He regretted the words the moment they were spoken, but it was too -late to recall them. - -Matilda's face flushed. - -"If you knew Miss Maclean at all," she said, "you would be ashamed to -say that. She was not always wondering what people would think of -somebody's cousin, or somebody else's niece; she was her very own -self. The fact that she had grand relations did not make Miss -Simpson any the less her cousin. It was as easy to Miss Maclean to -claim kindred with a vulgar woman in a shop as with a fine lady in a -ballroom." - -This was hyperbolical, no doubt; but as Dudley listened to it, he -wondered whether Mona could safely be judged by the influence she had -had on Matilda Cookson. - -One question more he had to ask. "Is she a medical student?" - -"Bless my soul, no!" laughed Mr Cookson. "She has no need to do -anything for herself. In a small way she is an heiress." - -This was rash; but, after acting the part of the one who knows, Mr -Cookson was unwilling to own his ignorance; and, his idea of medical -women being vague and alarming in the extreme, it never crossed his -mind that an attractive, well-to-do young lady like Miss Maclean -could possibly belong to their ranks. - -Ralph turned to Matilda. - -"Do you know where Miss Maclean is now?" he said. "In London?" - -"I had a letter from her yesterday," Matilda answered proudly, -drawing an oft-perused document from her pocket. "She is just -starting with a party of friends to travel in Switzerland." - -"What a magnificent araucaria that is!" Dudley said suddenly. - -"It would need be," replied Mr Cookson. "It cost me a pretty penny, -I can tell you." - -Then Dudley rose to go. His manner was playful, but his heart was -welling over with bitterness. He did not realise the position in -which he had placed the woman he loved; it did not occur to him to -think how much worse it would have been if she had run after him, -instead of appearing to run away. He could not believe that she was -false, and yet--how she had deceived him! What madness it was ever -to trust to the honesty of a woman's eyes! - -"Well, old boy!" he said to himself cynically, as he walked back to -Carlton Lodge, "are we going to write our 'Sorrows of Werther' _once -again_?" - - - - -CHAPTER LI. - -ANOTHER CHAT BY THE FIRE. - -The last sodden leaves had fallen from the London trees, and autumn -was fast merging into winter. Mona sat alone in her study, deep in a -copy of _Balfour On the Heart_, which she had picked up second-hand, -on her way from hospital, and had carried home in triumph. It was -the height of her ambition at this time to be "strong on the heart -and lungs"; and as she read she mechanically percussed the arm of her -big chair, with a lightness of touch which many doctors might have -envied. - -There was a knock at the door, and Miss Lascelles entered the room. - -"That's right," said Mona, holding out her hand, "sit down." - -"Thanks," was the reply, in Miss Lascelles's cultured, musical drawl. -"I am not going to stay. I came to ask if you would lend me your -notes of that leucocythæmia case. I am working up the spleen just -now." - -"I will, with pleasure. But don't be in such a hurry, now that you -have come so far. I never get a chance to speak to you in hospital. -Sit down and tell me what the scientist thinks of it all." - -Miss Lascelles pulled off her hat unceremoniously, and passed her -hand through her dark hair. - -"Oh, reform it altogether!" she cried. "There is a deal of humbug in -the profession, and I don't know that the women have lessened it." - -Mona laughed. - -"What a born reformer you are!" she said admiringly. - -"I suppose I am. In other words, I shall never be a successful -doctor. _Kismet!_ I don't see how any honest man can live in this -world and not be a reformer." - -"Don't you? Oh, I do." - -Miss Lascelles glanced round the pretty room. - -"I almost envy you," she said. "It must be very pleasant to be able -to shut one's eyes to abuses, and eat one's pudding in comfort." - -"Ay, or to shut one's eyes to one's father's shortcomings, and make -the best of them." - -"It is not the shortcomings I object to, it is the false pretensions. -Give me honesty at all costs. Let everything be open and -above-board." - -"Honesty--honesty--honesty!" said Mona. "I sometimes think I hate -honesty; it is so often another name for ingratitude and brutality. -I care more for loyalty than for all the other virtues put together. -It is the loyal souls who prepare the way for the reformer. His -actual work is often nothing more than the magnificent thrust with -which a child knocks down a castle of cards." - -"I believe in loyalty, too; but let us be loyal to the right, not -loyal to the wrong." - -"With all my heart, if you can contrive to separate the right from -the wrong. I never could. I am always brought back to that grand -bold line-- - - 'Mit ihm zu irren ist dir Gewinn.' - -You don't believe that?" - -Miss Lascelles laughed, and shook her head. "I don't mean to go -astray with anybody, if I can help it. I had no idea, Miss Maclean, -that you were so desperately--_mediæval_." - -Mona smiled. - -"I think it is rather Greek than mediæval to shut one's eyes to -abuses, and eat one's pudding in comfort. The mediæval spirit -renounces the pudding, and looks beyond the abuses." - -Miss Lascelles sprang to her feet, and carelessly threw on her broad -picturesque hat. - -"I am neither Greek nor mediæval, then," she said, involuntarily -drawing up the sleeves from her plump pretty wrists as she spoke; -"for I choose to share my pudding, and wage war to the death against -the abuses." - -"_Brava!_" said Mona. "You are one of the sort that live in history." - -"For knocking down a castle of cards?" - -"Nay, nay; I did not say that of all reformers." - -"Well, Miss Maclean, whatever your theories may be, you have worked a -grand reformation in Miss Reynolds." - -"Now that is precisely a case of the wrong man getting the credit. -That, at least, was the work of her own loyal self." - -"If only she would be quite natural, and not treat the doctors with -that half-coquettish air!" - -"But that is natural to her, and I can't say I altogether object to -it. Perhaps I am partial. Here are the notes in the meantime." - -"Many thanks. Good-bye." - -"_Au revoir!_ Come back again--when you want another chapter out of -the _Middle Ages_." - -Mona returned to her books, but she had not read a page before -another visitor was announced. - -"I really shall have to sport my oak," she said; but when she took -the card from the salver, her whole face beamed. - -"Show him in," she said, wheeling an arm-chair up to the fire. "Mr -Reynolds, there are not three people in the world whom I should be so -glad to see. What lucky wind blows you here now?" - -"I have come partly to look after my two daughters," said the old -man, smiling. "Let me have a good look at this one. Lucy tells me -you are working yourself to death." - -"One of Lucy's effective statements." But Mona flushed rather -nervously under his steady gaze. "I suppose you have just come from -her now." - -"Yes." - -"She is working splendidly if you will." - -"So I gather." He smiled. "She is very indignant to-night about the -rudeness of the doctor under whom she is working at hospital." - -"I don't think it is very serious. They are excellent friends in the -main, and you cannot expect all men to be gentlemen. The fact -is"--Mona drew down her brows in earnest consideration--"we women are -excellent, really excellent, at taking a good hard blow when we are -convinced that we deserve it. That is where our metal comes in. But -if we really mean to share men's work, we have got to learn within -the next generation to take a little miscellaneous knocking about -from our superiors, without enquiring too closely whether we have -deserved it or not. That is where our ignorance of the world comes -in." - -"I should think that was extremely true," Mr Reynolds said -reflectively, "especially in a busy life like a doctor's, where there -is so little time for explanations. There must be a good deal of -give and take. But, my dear girl, don't let your common-sense run -away with one atom of your womanliness. One would not think it -necessary to say so, if one had not been disappointed in that -respect, once and again." - -"I know," Mona answered hurriedly. "It is a case of Scylla and -Charybdis. We don't want to be mawkish and sentimental, and in the -first swing of reaction we are apt to go to the other extreme and -treat the patients in hospital as mere material. But you know, Mr -Reynolds, if one realises that the occupant of each bed is a human -soul, with its own rights and its own reserves--if one takes the -trouble to knock at the door, in fact, and ask admission instead of -leaping over the wall--life becomes pretty intense; a good deal gets -crowded into a very few hours." - -"I know. That is quite true. But all things become easier by -practice. It may be the view of a half-informed outsider, but I -cannot help thinking that, if you take the trouble, when you first -begin ward-work, as Lucy calls it, to gain admission with the will of -the patient, you will in time become the possessor of a magic -_passe-partout_, which will make entrance not only infinitely more -satisfactory and complete, but also even easier than by leaping over -the wall." - -"You should preach a sermon to women-doctors," Mona said, smiling; -"and have it printed. I would lay it to heart for one." - -"You will do far more good by preaching it yourself in your daily -life, as indeed I believe you are doing now. But in any case, I did -not come here to preach to you." - -"You don't know how much I stand in need of it." - -"I want you to talk to me. Do you know it is more than a year since -I saw you?" - -Mona sighed. "It seems five to me sometimes." - -"I suppose it has been very full of events?" - -Mr Reynolds had not forgotten the man whose presence at Borrowness -made "all the difference" in Mona's life there. - -"Yes. There was first my life with my cousin; and then the -examination; and then Switzerland with the Munros; and then hospital. -Four different Mona Macleans,--each living as hard as ever she could." - -"And enjoying life?" - -"I don't know. I have been so restless, so unsettled." - -"I fancied I could read that in your face, but it is passing over -now." - -"I hope so. I don't know. Don't let us talk of it." - -"You enjoy your hospital work?" - -Mona was sitting opposite him on the corner of the tiled fender. She -looked into the fire now, with an amount of expression in her face -that was almost painful. - -"Hospital," she said, "is--_salvation_! All one's work apart from -that tends to make one self-centred. It is a duty to think much of -_my_ knowledge, _my_ marks, _my_ success, _my_ failure. Hospital -work gives one a chance to 'die to live.'" - -She laughed softly. - -"It must seem incredible to you, but I actually thought once that I -had died to live,--I, with my books and my pictures, and my pretty -gowns, and my countless toys! I thought I held them with so light a -hand, that I valued them only for the eternal that was in them." - -She paused and went on without much logical sequence. "It is so easy -to die to live, when the life one dies to is something vague and -shadowy and unknown; but let one brilliant ray of promised happiness -cross one's path, and then it becomes a very different thing to die -to that--to nothing abstract, nothing vague, but just to _that_! One -realises what one's professions are worth. - -"All the time I was at Borrowness I hardly once said a cross word to -my cousin, and I suppose I took great credit to myself for that; but -I see now that there was no true selflessness in it at all. It was -simply because she was so unlike me that she never came into my real -life. I conquered my hardships in a sense, by escaping them. I -thought I had attained, and I have only learned now that I have -attained nothing. The whole lesson of self-renunciation has still -got to be learned." - -"You are thinking much of the duty of self-renunciation; what of the -duty of self-realisation?" - -"Is there such a duty?" - -"You have acted instinctively up till now on the theory that there -is. Have you any reason to distrust your instincts?" - -"I don't know. I seem to have got into a muddle about everything. -How can they both be duties when they are so absolutely incompatible?" - -"One can only unite them certainly by seeking for a higher truth that -combines them both. It may seem a strange thing for a Christian -minister to say, but it has always seemed to me that those words, -'die to live,' were an admirable expression of a philosophy, but a -very poor maxim for daily life; partly because they ignore that duty -of self-realisation, in which I for one believe, and partly because, -so long as a man says, 'Am I dying to live?' he cannot possibly do -it. The maxim accentuates the very element we want to get rid of. -If we are indeed to die to live, we must cease to think about it; we -must cease to know whether we live or die." - -"But the higher truth, Mr Reynolds, what is that?" - -"Nay, I should be doing you a poor service by telling you." - -"There is only one higher truth conceivable," Mona said boldly, "and -that is--God in all." - -"And is not that enough? God in me. God to have His way in me, and -to find the fullest possible expression there. God in all men--in -the church, the ball-room, the Blum. If we see all things through -the medium of God, what becomes of the strife between -self-renunciation and self-realisation?" - -Mona pressed his hand in silence. "You knew all that before, dear -child," he said; "you had only got confused for the moment." - -Mona shook her head. "I knew it vaguely," she said, "but you must -not think I am living up to that level. I thought, in my infinite -conceit, that I had risen above happiness and attained to -blessedness; and now--and now--I want the happiness too." - -He laid his hand on her shoulder. "And so you are wearing yourself -out at hospital," he said quietly, as though that were the natural -outcome of what she had said; "but don't forget the friends who love -you, and who are depending on you." - -Mona looked up gratefully into his face. The advice was almost the -same as that which she herself had given to Lucy some months before; -but the value of advice is rarely intrinsic--we think far less of its -substance than we do of the personality of the giver. The words that -are empty platitudes on the lips of one man, become living -inspiration on those of another. - -To-night, however, even Mr Reynolds had not the power to raise Mona -above the longing for happiness. As the months went on, the strain -of uncertainty was becoming almost unendurable. Never, since that -night when he drove her home in his gig from Colonel Lawrence's Wood, -had she heard anything from Dr Dudley; never, since the chance -glimpses at Burlington House, had she even seen him. It seemed -incredible that he could have failed to find her, if he had really -tried; and yet--and yet---- - -"Oh, my friend, my friend!" she said wearily, "I have waited so long. -_Where are you?_" - - - - -CHAPTER LII. - -OLD FRIENDS. - -"You are late," said Lady Munro. "Had you forgotten that you were -going to take us to the theatre?" - -She was sitting alone in the firelight, one dainty slippered foot on -the burnished fender. - -Sir Douglas looked sharply round the room without replying. "Is Mona -here?" he said. - -"No; she could not spare enough time to come to dinner. We are to -call for her." - -Sir Douglas frowned. - -"That's always the way. Upon my soul, for all we see of her, she -might as well be at--Borrowness!" - -"Where in the world is that?" asked Lady Munro languidly. Then, with -a sudden change of tone, "I have got such a piece of news for you," -she said. "Another of our friends is engaged to be married." - -"Not Dickinson?" he said, glancing at the foreign letter in her hand. - -"Yes; the Indian mail came in to-day. Guess who the lady is?" - -"You know I hate guessing. Go on!" - -"Miss Colquhoun!" - -"What an extraordinary thing!" - -"Isn't it? It seems he wanted the thing settled before he sailed, -but it took the exchange of a few letters to decide the question. I -must say it is a great disappointment to me. I am quite sure the -Sahib cared for Mona, and I did think she would take pity on him in -the long-run." - -"How ridiculous!" said Sir Douglas testily. - -He wanted Mona to marry, because that was the natural and fitting -destiny for a young and attractive woman; but it was quite another -thing to think of her as the wife of any given man. - -"Of course we all know that Mona ought to marry a duke," said Evelyn -quietly. She had entered the room a moment before, looking very fair -and sweet in her white evening dress. "But even if the duke could be -brought to see it, which is not absolutely certain,--I suppose even -dukes are sometimes blind to their best interests--oh, father, -_don't_!" - -For Sir Douglas was pinching her ear unmercifully. - -"You little sauce-box!" he said indignantly, but he did not look -displeased. Evelyn had learned that approaching womanhood gave her -the right to take liberties with her father which his wife would -scarcely have ventured upon. - -"Well, whatever may be the cause of it," said Lady Munro, "Mona is -not half so bright as she was a year ago." - -Evelyn laughed. - -"Do you remember what Sydney Smith said? 'Macaulay has improved of -late,--flashes of silence!' Lucy told her yesterday that, to our -great surprise, we find we may open our lips now-a-days, without -having our heads snapped off with an epigram." - -"It's all nonsense," said Sir Douglas loftily. "Mona is not changed -a bit. You did not understand her, that is all." - -But in truth no one had wondered over the change in Mona so much as -he. He was perfectly certain that she did not care for the Sahib, -and he had come at last to the conclusion that, with a girl like -Mona, incessant hospital work was quite sufficient to account for the -alteration. To his partial mind Mona's increased womanliness more -than made up for her loss of sparkle. When friendship and affection -are removed alike from all danger of starvation and of satiety, they -are very hard to kill. - -At this moment Nubboo announced dinner, and an hour or so later the -carriage stopped at the door of Mona's rooms in Gower Street. - -Much as Sir Douglas spoiled his niece, she "knew her place," as Lucy -expressed it, better than to keep him waiting; and the reverberations -of the knocker had not died away when she appeared. - -Sir Douglas ran his eye with satisfaction over the details of her -toilet. It was an excellent thing for her, in this time of hard work -and heart-hunger, that she felt the bounden necessity of living up to -the level of Sir Douglas's expectations. She cared intensely for his -approbation; partly for her own sake, partly because to him she -represented the whole race of "learned women"; and she could not well -have had a more friendly, frank, and fastidious critic. - -The theatre was crowded when they entered their box. Like many -habitual theatre-goers Sir Douglas hated boxes, but he had applied -for seats too late to get anything else. It was the first night of a -new melodrama,--new in actual date, but in all essentials old as the -history of man. A noble magnificent hero; a sweet loyal wife; a long -period of persecution, separation, and mutual devotion; a happy and -triumphant reunion. - -Judged by every canon of modern realistic art, it was stagey and -conventional to the point of being ridiculous; but the acting was -brilliant, and even Sir Douglas and Mona found it difficult to escape -the enthusiasm of that crowded house. Evelyn and her mother were -moved almost to tears before the end. The one saw in the play the -ideal that lay in the shadows before her, the other the ideal that -her own life had missed. - -"Have you heard the news about the Sahib?" Lady Munro enquired in the -pause that followed the first act. - -"Yes," said Mona, flushing slightly; "I had a few lines from him by -to-day's mail." - -"Do you think the match a desirable one?" - -"Ideal, so far as one can foresee. They won't water down each -other's enthusiasms, as most married people do." - -"Douglas remembers Miss Colquhoun as a quaint, old-fashioned -child--not at all pretty. I suppose she has improved?" - -"I suppose she has," Mona answered reflectively: "she is certainly -immensely admired now." - -"It was such an odd coincidence; we heard this morning of the -engagement of another of our friends--Colonel Monteith's son; I -forget whether you have met him?" - -"No; I have met the Colonel. Who is the son engaged to?" - -"Nobody very great. A Miss Nash, a girl with plenty of money. -George inherits a nice little estate from his uncle, and he had to -marry something to keep it up on. By the way, Lucy Reynolds must -have mentioned him to you. She saw a good deal of him at Cannes." -And Lady Munro looked somewhat anxiously at her niece. - -"I rather think she did," Mona answered, pretending to stifle a yawn. -"But Lucy met so many people while she was with you----" - -The rise of the curtain for the second act obviated the necessity of -finishing the sentence, and Lady Munro did not resume the subject. - -As soon as Sir Douglas had left the box for the second time, it was -entered by a stout man, with a vast expanse of shirt front, and a -bunch of showy seals. - -"I thought I could not be mistaken," he said with a marked Scotch -accent, holding out his hand to Mona. "I have been watching you from -the dress circle ever since the beginning of the play, Miss Maclean; -and I thought I must just come and pay my respects." - -Lady Munro looked utterly aghast, and the ease of Mona's manner -rather belied her feelings, as she took his outstretched hand. - -"That was very kind of you," she said simply. "Mr Cookson, my aunt, -Lady Munro,--Miss Munro." - -Mr Cookson gasped, and there was an awkward pause. Rachel Simpson -had not taken with her, across the Atlantic, all the complications in -her cousin's life. - -Fortunately, at this moment two young men came in, and Mona was able -to keep Mr Cookson pretty much to herself. - -"I hope you are all well at Borrowness," she said cordially. - -"Thanks, we are wonderful, considering. It'll be great news for -Matilda that I came across you." - -"Please give her my love." - -There was another pause. Mona was longing to ask about Mrs Hamilton -and Dr Dudley, but she did not dare. - -"It was a great thing for Matilda getting to know you," Mr Cookson -went on. "We often wish you were back among us. If ever you care to -renew the homely old associations a bit, our spare room is always at -your disposal, you know." - -Care to renew the old associations! What else in life did she care -so much about? In her eagerness she forgot even the presence of her -aunt. - -"I should like very much to see the old place again," she said. "You -are very kind." - -Mr Cookson's good-natured face beamed with delighted surprise. - -"It isn't looking its best now," he said; "but any time you care to -come, we shall be only too delighted." - -"Thank you. If it would not be too much trouble to Mrs Cookson, I -could come for a day or two at the beginning of January. I shall -never forget the fairy frost we had at that time last winter." - -Mr Cookson laughed. - -"We will be proud to see you at any time," he said; "but I am afraid -we have not enough interest with the clerk of the weather to get up a -frost like that again. I never remember to have seen the like of it." - -He turned to Lady Munro with a vague idea that he ought to be making -himself agreeable to her. - -"My girls were wishing they could carry the leaves and things home," -he said; "it seemed such a waste like." - -Mona inwardly blessed her aunt for the gracious smile with which she -listened to these words; but, whatever Lady Munro's feelings might -be, it was extremely difficult for her to be ungracious to any one. - -The Fates, after all, were kind. Mr Cookson left the box before Sir -Douglas returned. - -"My _dear_ Mona!" was all Lady Munro could say the first moment they -were left alone. - -"Poor dear Aunt Maud!" Mona said caressingly; "it is a shame that she -should be subjected to such a thing. But never mind, dear; he lives -hundreds of miles away from here, and you are never likely to see him -again." - -Lady Munro groaned. Fortunately, she had heard nothing of the -invitation, and in another minute she was once more absorbed in the -interest of the play. - -The party drove back to Gower Street in silence. Sir Douglas -alighted at once, and held out his hand to help Mona. - -"Many thanks," she said warmly; "good night." - -"No; I am coming in for ten minutes. I want to speak to you. Home, -Charles!" - -Mona opened the door, and led the way up the dimly lighted staircase -to her cheerful sitting-room. - -"Now, Mona," he said, as soon as the door was closed, "I want the -whole truth of this Borrowness business." - -Mona started visibly. Had he met Mr Cookson in the corridor, seized -him by the throat, and demanded an account of his actions? No, that -was clearly impossible. - -"Who has been talking to you?" she said resignedly. - -"I met Colonel Lawrence at the club to-day." - -Mona threw herself into the rocking-chair with a sigh of capitulation. - -"If you have heard _his_ story," she said, "you need not come to me -for farther details. He knows more than I do myself. They say down -at Borrowness that he is 'as guid as an auld almanac.'" - -But Sir Douglas declined to be amused. - -"How long were you there?" he said severely. - -"Six months." - -"And you have kept me in the dark about it all this time? I think I -deserved greater confidence from you." - -"I think you did," she said frankly; "but you see, Uncle Douglas, I -promised to go at a time when I only knew you by name, and I had not -the least idea then that you would be so kind to me. I felt bound to -keep my word, and I did not feel quite sure that you would approve of -it." - -"_Approve of it!_" he exclaimed indignantly. - -"But I always meant to tell you about it sooner or later." - -Mona sighed. She had expected the whole story to come out in -connection with her engagement to Dr Dudley. And now that engagement -seemed to be becoming more and more problematical. - -"Particularly later," said Sir Douglas sarcastically. "It is nearly -a year now since you left." - -"Yes; but that isn't exactly due to intentional secrecy on my part. -The fact is, my visit has some painful associations for me now." - -"So I should think," he said. "Is it really true, Mona, that you -stood behind a counter?--that you _kept a shop_?" - -"Perfectly true," said Mona, meeting his gaze without flinching. "I -confess I had no special training for the work, but I did not do it -so badly, after all." - -The least suspicion of a smile played about the corners of his mouth, -but he suppressed it instantly. - -"And when," he asked, "may we expect your next attack of shopkeeping?" - -"Oh, did Colonel Lawrence not tell you? My cousin sailed for America -months ago." - -He looked relieved. - -"To your infinite regret, no doubt." - -"I am afraid it is a great weight off my mind." - -"And is that the end of the affair, or have you any more cousins down -there?" - -"I have one or two friends; no relatives." - -"Then there is nothing to take you back again?" - -Poor Mona! - -"I met a Borrowness acquaintance in the theatre to-night," she said, -"and promised to go down for a day or two at Christmas. Uncle -Douglas, you did not ask to see my genealogical tree before you took -me to Norway. I am proud of the fact that my grandfather rose from -the ranks; and, even if I were not, I could not consent to draw all -my acquaintances from one set. There are four links in the -chain--your world, you, me, my world. Your world won't let you go, -and I can't let my world go. If you must break the chain, you can -only do it in one place." - -"I don't believe you would care a straw if I did." - -"I should care intensely," said Mona, her eyes filling with tears. -"It seems like a fairy tale that a brilliant man of the world like -you should be so good to commonplace me; and, besides--you know I -love you almost as if you were my father. But, indeed, now that I -know you and Aunt Maud, you may trust me in future always to think of -what is due to you." - -She had risen from her chair as she spoke, and he strode across the -hearth-rug and kissed her affectionately. - -"There, there," he said, "she shall dictate her own terms! Thank -heaven at least that that old frump is well across the Atlantic!" - -He went away, and Mona was left alone, to think over the events of -the day. Doris and the Sahib, Monteith and Lucy,--it was the old -tale over again,--"The one shall be taken, and the other left." How -strange it seemed that life should run smoothly for Doris, with all -her grand power of self-surrender; and that poor little Lucy, with -her innocent, childlike expectation of happiness, should be called -upon to suffer! - -"----so horribly," Mona added; but in her heart she was beginning to -hope that Lucy had not been so hard hit after all. - -And for herself, how did the equation run? As the Sahib is to Doris, -so is somebody to me? or, as Monteith is to Lucy, so is somebody to -me? No, no, no! That was impossible. Monteith had never treated -Lucy as Dr Dudley had treated her. - -During all these months what had caused Mona the acutest suffering -was an anguish of shame. It never remained with her long, but it -recurred whenever she was worn out and depressed. She had long since -realised that, from an outsider's point of view, her experience that -winter night was in no way so exceptional as she had supposed,--that -there were thousands of men who would give such expression to a -moment's transient passion. But surely, surely Dr Dudley was not one -of these, and surely any man must see that with a woman like her it -must be everything or nothing! If he had indeed torn her soul out -and given her nothing in return, why then--then---- But she never -could finish the sentence, for the recollection of a hundred words -and actions and looks came back, and turned the gall into sweetness. -And she always ended with the same old cry--"If only I had told him -about my life, if only I had given him no shadow of a reason to think -that I had deceived him!" - -But to-night it seemed as if the long uncertainty must be coming to -an end at last. If she went to Borrowness at Christmas, as she had -promised, she could not fail to hear something of her friend, and she -might even see him. - - - - -CHAPTER LIII. - -WAITING. - -The weeks passed very slowly till the Christmas holidays came round; -but, on the whole, life had become more bearable for Mona. The -future was as uncertain as ever, but she had at least one definite -event to look forward to. There was a light of some kind before her, -though it might be only a Will-o'-the-wisp. - -And a Will-o'-the-wisp it was destined to prove. - -She arrived at Borrowness late in the evening, and immediately after -breakfast next morning, Matilda begged her to come to Castle Maclean. -Mona assented the more readily, as the walk led them past the gates -of Carlton Lodge; but at the first glance she saw that the house was -shut up. - -It was some minutes before she could measure the full force of the -blow. - -"What has become of Mrs Hamilton?" she said at last, with averted -face. - -"Oh, didn't you know? She was awfully ill last autumn. Dr Dudley -had some great gun down from London to see her,--as if Edinburgh -doctors were not a great deal better!--and she was ordered abroad for -the winter. Dr Dudley took her away at once, to Cairo, or Algiers, -or some such place. We don't hear anything about them now. By the -way, Miss Maclean, the very last time that I saw Dr Dudley he was -asking about you." - -Mona could not trust herself to speak. - -"He wanted to know if you had gone to America with Miss Simpson, and -Pa gave him a glowing account of how he had seen you in London." - -"At the theatre?" - -"No, no. Pa saw you once, long before that, one day in Hyde Park, -with a lady--and a young gentleman. I thought it would be Lady -Munro, but I never said so to Pa." - -It was contrary to all Mona's instincts to ask what any one had said -of her, but the opportunity was too precious to be lost. Her dignity -must go. - -"And what did Dr Dudley say to that?" she asked, as carelessly as she -could. - -Matilda hesitated; but she felt a pardonable longing to repeat her -own brave words. - -"I don't know whether I ought to tell you," she said. "You see--Dr -Dudley doesn't know you as well as I do. He said in that horrid -sneering way of his, 'And do you know what induced her to come -masquerading down here?' I gave him a piece of my mind, I can tell -you." And Matilda repeated the retort which she had so often gone -over with keen satisfaction in her own mind. - -"You loyal little soul!" said Mona; but her face had turned very -white. - -"Dr Dudley asked such an extraordinary thing," Matilda went on. "He -wanted to know whether you were--a _medical student_!" - -Ah! so he had noticed her name in the lists. Then why had he not -written to her at the School? - -"Fancy his imagining such a thing! Pa told him you had no need to do -anything for yourself." - -Mona was too preoccupied to think of it at the time; but, before she -left Borrowness, she broke to the Cooksons the astounding fact that, -although she had no need to do anything for herself, she was a -medical student. - -When she came to think calmly over the incident which Matilda had -narrated to her, she did not know whether to draw from it comfort or -despair. She was not sorry that Dudley should have been -angry,--angry enough to forget himself before little Matilda Cookson; -but had he been content to condemn her unheard? Surely he could in -some way have got a letter to her. Algiers and Cairo were far off, -but they were not on the astral plane. - -No, certainly Mona did not despair of her friend. It might have been -better for her physically if she had. If she had been sure that he -had forgotten her, she would have turned the key with a will on the -suite of enchanted rooms; but the suspense, the excitement of -uncertainty, was wearing out her strength. - -When spring came round she was thoroughly ill. She went about her -work as usual, but even her lecturers and fellow-students saw that -something was wrong; and Sir Douglas implored her to give up medicine -altogether. - -"I ought to have trusted my own instincts," he said. "The very first -day I saw your face, I felt sure that you were not the sort to make a -doctor. That kind of work wants women of coarser fibre. There us no -use trying to chop wood with a razor." - -In vain Mona protested that medical work had nothing to do with it; -that she could not live without her hospital. She was not prepared -to suggest any other explanation, and Sir Douglas stuck to his point. - -"Don't fret, dear," she said at last. "If you like, I will go and -see Dr Alice Bateson to-morrow." - -"_Do!_" he said emphatically. "I have a great mind to go and see her -myself." - -So next evening Mona found herself in a pleasant, airy -consulting-room. Dr Bateson rose as her patient entered, and looked -at her steadily, with the penetrating brown eyes. - -"I am not ill," Mona said apologetically. "But I can't sleep much, -and things get on my nerves; so I thought I would allow myself the -luxury of consulting you." - -"You do look seedy," was the frank reply, and the brown eyes kept -firm hold of the white, sensitive face. "Over-working?" - -"No." - -"When is your next examination?" - -"Not for eighteen months." - -"So it isn't that?" - -"No, it isn't that." - -Dr Bateson put her fingers on the girl's pulse. Her manner could not -be called strictly sympathetic--certainly not effusive--but there was -something very irresistible in her profound and unassumed interest in -her patients. - -"Is something particular worrying you?" she said shortly. - -Mona smiled drearily. - -"There you have me," she said. "Something is worrying me. It lies -entirely out of my power, so I cannot control it; and it is still -uncertain, so I cannot make up my mind to it." - -"And you can't shake it off, and wait?" - -"I am afraid it is because I have failed in that, that I have come to -you. I suppose I am demanding the impossible--asking you to -'minister to a mind diseased.'" - -"I don't mind ministering to a mind diseased at all--if it is not too -diseased to carry out my instructions. In this age of worry and -strain one laughs at the stories of the old doctors, who declined to -undertake a case if the patient had anything on his mind. They would -not have a very flourishing practice now-a-days. Thousands of -worries and not a few suicides might be prevented by the timely use -of a simple tonic. Prosaic, isn't it?" - -"Prove it true in my case, and I shall be grateful to you all my -life. I don't play the part of invalid _con amore_." - -"That I believe. What are you going to do with your Easter holiday?" - -"I am not going to leave town,--at least not for more than a few -days." - -"Why not?" - -Mona's appearance did not suggest the lack of means, to which Dr -Alice Bateson was pretty well accustomed in her practice. - -"I want to get on with my hospital work; and besides, it is work that -keeps one sane." - -"That is quite true up to a certain point. I suppose you have -friends that you can go to?" - -"Yes. My aunt wants me to go to Bournemouth with her," Mona admitted -unwillingly. - -"And is she a congenial companion?" - -"Thoroughly; but I should mope myself to death." - -"Not if you follow my advice. Live on the cliffs the whole day long, -read what will rest you, and take a tonic that will make you eat in -spite of yourself." - -She asked a few more questions, and then consulted Mona very frankly -about the ingredients of her prescription. Dr Bateson did not at all -believe in making a mystery of her art, nor in drawing a -hard-and-fast line between students and doctors. - -"Thank you very much indeed," Mona said, rising and tendering her fee. - -"Nonsense! we are none of us cannibals, as your great Scotch -Æsculapius says. I don't take fees from students and nurses." - -"But I am not studying in order to support myself." - -"I can't help that. Now I wonder if you mean to take my advice as -well as my tonic?" She asked the question quite dispassionately, as -if it only interested her in an abstract way. - -"If you don't accept a fee," Mona said, in an injured tone, "you bind -me over to take your advice." - -"Ah! if that's the case, I wish I could afford to refuse fees from -all my patients. Good-bye. Send me a line from Bournemouth to tell -me how you get on. I wish I could be of more use to you!" And for -the first time a look of very genuine sympathy shot from the honest -brown eyes. - - -"Well?" said Sir Douglas, when he saw Mona next day. - -"Dr Bateson says I am to go to Bournemouth with Aunt Maud." - -"Nonsense! Did she really?" - -Warmly as Sir Douglas approved of women-doctors, it was a source of -great surprise to him that they should recommend anything sensible. - -And so it came to pass that Mona began by degrees to pick up fresh -health and strength in spite of everything. She could not shake off -her worry; but day by day, to her own surprise, it weighed on her -more bearably. - -One morning near the end of April she took up a copy of the _Times_, -and her eye fell on the following notice--"On the 23d inst., at -Carlton Lodge, Borrowness, Eleanor Jane, relict of the late George -Hamilton, Esq., J.P. and D.L. of the County, in her 79th year." - -"So she came home to die," Mona thought; "and now--now I suppose he -will come up to London and go on with his work. I wonder if he will -present himself at Burlington House for his medal next month? For, -if he does, I shall see him." - -And it was well that Presentation Day was so near, or Dr Bateson -might have been disappointed, after all, in the results of her -prescription. - - - - -CHAPTER LIV. - -PRESENTATION DAY. - -The eventful day dawned at last, clear and bright, with a summer sky -and a fresh spring breeze. - -"One would think I was a bride at the very least," Mona said, -laughing, when Lucy and Evelyn came in to help her to dress. - -"If you think we would take this amount of trouble for a common or -garden bride," said Lucy loftily, "you are profoundly mistaken. -Bride, indeed!" - -Sir Douglas had insisted on giving Mona an undergraduate's gown, -heavy and handsome as it could be made; and the sight of her in that, -and in a most becoming trencher, did more to reconcile him to her -study of medicine than any amount of argument could have done. - -"Distinctly striking!" was Mona's comment, when Lucy and Evelyn -stopped dancing round her, and allowed her to see herself in the -pier-glass. And she was perfectly right. Never in all her bright -young life had she looked so charming as she did that Presentation -Day. - - -"You will go to the function to day, Ralph?" said Melville to his -friend the same morning. - -"Not I! God bless my soul! when a man has graduated at Edinburgh and -Cambridge, he can afford to dispense with a twopenny-halfpenny -function at Burlington House." - -"I thought you admitted that, even in comparison with Cambridge and -Edinburgh, London had its points?" - -"So I do. But the graduation ceremony is not one of them. -Ceremonial does not sprout kindly on nineteenth-century soil. One -misses the tradition, the aroma of faith, the grand roll of the _In -nomine Patrix_. Call it superstition, humbug, what you will, but -materialism is confoundedly inartistic." - -"Spoken like a book with pictures. But without entering fully into -the question of Atheism versus Christianity, the point at issue is -briefly this: I have got a ticket for the affair, for the first time -in my life, and I want to applaud somebody I know. Sweet -girl-graduates are all very well, but I decline to waste all my -adolescent enthusiasm on a physiologist in petticoats." - -"By the way, a woman did get the Physiology Medal, did not she?" And -Dudley felt a faint, awakening curiosity to see that other Miss -Maclean. - -"Oh, if it is going to make you sigh like that," said Melville, "I -withdraw all I have said. I have no wish to sacrifice you on the -altar of friendship." - -"Did I sigh?" said Ralph very wearily. "It was not for that. Oh -yes, dear boy, I'll go. It won't be the first time I have made a -fool of myself for your sake." - -And he did feel himself very much of a fool when, a few hours later, -he went up on the platform of the crowded theatre to receive the -pretty golden toy. The experience reminded him of his brilliant -schoolboy days, and he half expected some kindly old gentleman to -clap Him on the shoulder as he went back to his seat. He was -thankful to escape into insignificance again; and then, adjusting his -gold-rimmed spectacles, he proceeded to watch for Miss Mona Maclean. - -It was well that he had ceased to be the centre of attraction in the -theatre. Ralph was not a blushing man, but a moment later his face -became as red as the cushioned seats of the hall, and when the wave -of colour passed away, it left him ashy pale. At the first sight of -that dear familiar face, beautiful to-day with excitement, as he had -seen it at Castle Maclean, his hard, aggrieved feeling against her -vanished, and he thought only how good it would be to speak to her -again. He was proud of her beauty, proud of the ovation she -received, proud of his love for her. - -But while the tedious ceremony went on, the facts of the case came -back to him one by one, like common objects that have been blotted -for the moment out of view by some dazzling light. His face settled -into a heavy frown. - -"I will walk along Regent Street with her," he thought, "and ask her -what it all meant." - -At last the "function" was over. Mona seemed to be surrounded by -congratulating friends, and so indeed was he; but before many minutes -had passed he found himself following her out of the hall,--gaining -on her. She was very pale. Was it reaction after the excitement of -the ceremony? or did she know that he was behind her? - -In another moment he would have spoken, but during that moment a -bluff, elderly professor, who had been looking at Mona with much -interest and perplexity, suddenly seized her hand. - -"Why, I declare it is Yum-Yum!" he exclaimed enthusiastically. "No -wonder she took us by surprise on a deserted coast, when she wins an -ovation like this at Burlington House!" - -Mona stopped to speak, and Dudley passed on. - -No wonder, indeed! What a blind bat, what an utter imbecile, he had -been! and how he had babbled to her of his past, present, and future, -while she had sat looking at him, with infinite simplicity and -frankness in her honest eyes! - -His lip curled with a cynical smile. - -"Bravo, old chap!" said Melville's friendly voice. "It was a genuine -consolation to my misanthropic mind to reflect that one of those -medals was well earned." - -Ralph stopped for a minute or two to speak to his friend, and then -went down the steps. Most of the carriages had gone, but, a few -yards from the door, a pair of fine bays were pawing the ground. -Ralph looked up and recognised his Anglo-Indian friend, Sir Douglas -Munro; but Sir Douglas was waiting for a lady, and had no eyes for -the clever young doctor. Ralph's glance wandered on to the next -carriage, and when it came idly back to the bays, he saw that the -lady had arrived. Nay, more, the lady was looking at him with a very -eloquent face. - -"Dr Dudley," she said, almost below her breath. - -For an instant Dudley hesitated,--then gravely lifted his hat and -walked on. He could not speak to her now; he must have time to -think. It seemed to him that his very soul was torn in two. One -half loved Mona, clamoured for her, stretched out blind hands that -longed to take her on any terms, unquestioning; but the other half -refused to be carried away by glamour and mere blind impulse, the -other half was outraged by this trivial motiveless deception, the -other half had dreamed of an ideal marriage and would not be put off -with anything short of its ideal. How little he knew of her, after -all! He had not met her a dozen times--what wonder if he had been -mistaken! - -While he wrestled thus with himself, the mail-phaeton bowled rapidly -past him. Dudley laughed gloomily. And he had meant her to trudge -along Regent Street with him, and "tell him what it all meant"! What -a hopeless imbecile he had been! - -How could he guess that Mona would cheerfully have given three years' -income to leave her uncle at that moment, and "trudge along Regent -Street" with him? - -"Who is that young fellow?" Sir Douglas was saying. "I seem to know -his face." - -"He is a Dr Dudley," Mona answered, stooping low to arrange the -carriage-rug over her feet. - -"Oh, to be sure. I remember--a clever fellow." Sir Douglas fell -a-musing for a few minutes. "How did you pick him up, Mona? He told -me when I last saw him that he did not know any of the -women-students." - - - - -CHAPTER LV. - -LUCY TO THE RESCUE. - -"I have an idea, Mona," said Lucy. - -"Have you, dear? I wish I had!" - -The two girls were in the Gower Street garden again, and Lucy was -swinging lazily in the hammock, just as she had done that summer day -nearly two years before. - -"You know I told you the Pater had had a little money left him?" - -"Yes, and very glad I was to hear it." - -"Well, the more I see of what is being done in a medical way in the -hub of the profession here, the more I am inclined to think it might -be worth while for the Mater to come in to town." - -Mona did not answer for a minute or two. She was trying to intensify -her recollections of Mrs Reynolds's somewhat mysterious illness. - -"I think it is extremely likely," she said at last. - -"I would take her to Dr Bateson, get her to go into the case -thoroughly, and then choose any specialist she liked--man or -woman--to consult with. Don't you think that would be wise?" - -"Very." - -"It is perfectly awful to think how helpless people are who are quite -outside the profession. I think it is worth while studying medicine, -if only to be able to tell your friends whom, to consult,--or rather, -whom not to consult." - -"I know. When I am low-spirited I brood over all the people whose -deaths I might have prevented, if I had known what I know now. If I -were a reformer, like Miss Lascelles, there is one change I would try -to work in the profession. Every family able to pay for a doctor at -all should give a yearly amount to some sharp-eyed, keen-witted, -common-sense man or woman, who would keep an eye on the children, and -detect the first trace of struma, or lateral curvature, or any of the -neuroses. He need not be a great don at all. He must understand the -dynamics of a vital organism in relation to its surroundings----" - -"The _what_?" said Lucy. - -"----know the value of iron and cod-liver oil; and, above all, see -when the moment has arrived to send for a specialist. It seems to me -that half the mistakes that are made would be prevented, if that plan -were carried out." - -"Or you might adopt the Chinese system,--salary the doctor, and stop -his pay when you get ill." - -Mona laughed. "The fact is, the public have not begun to realise yet -how medicine is specialised, and most doctors are afraid to tell -them." - -There was a few minutes' silence. - -"Edgar Davidson took me over St Kunigonde's yesterday," said Lucy -presently. - -"Who is Edgar Davidson?" - -"I wish somebody would prescribe for your memory, Mona. Believe me, -the moment has come, when your jog-trot, common-sense adviser"--she -bowed--"suggests a specialist. Don't you remember the boy we met at -Monte Carlo?" - -"Oh yes, to be sure." - -"He is developing a very wholesome admiration for me." - -"I thought boy-worshippers were the special appanage of middle-aged -women, like myself!" - -"He is not such a boy, after all," said Lucy, colouring slightly. -"And all his worship is reserved for a wonderful fellow-student of -his, whom he introduced to me yesterday--Dr Dudley." - -Mona rearranged her cushions. - -"Do you still believe in nice men, Mona?" - -"I always did." - -"Ah, that's a pity. You will never know the joys of conversion." - -"Who has been converting the pessimist in the hammock?" - -"Oh, I am a hopeless sceptic. But I like Dr Dudley all the same. He -seems to have an awfully good influence on the students. He is a -good deal older than they are, and he lives his life according to his -own tastes, without posing as a saint or being mistaken for a muff. -What I liked was his manner with those horrid dirty 'casuals.' And -then he is just enough of a cynic to give an edge to it all." - -"I am afraid I am too old to appreciate cynics." - -"Poor soul!" said Lucy, in a tone of profound commiseration. "Life -is indeed a thing of the past for you. Cynics are the spice of the -world. However, it seems to me the Mater should come up at once. It -would not do for her to be here during the hottest of the summer. I -will write to her this very day." - -She proceeded to alight from the hammock as she spoke. - -"By the way, Mona," she said suddenly, "you must have seen Dr Dudley. -He was Anatomy medallist." - -"Yes," said Mona, and she said no more. She hoped the broad brim of -her garden-hat would conceal the whiteness of her face. - -This was almost the first time that any outsider had spoken to her of -Dr Dudley, and she was amazed to find how strong was her sense of -possession in him. It was very characteristic of her that, after the -first moment of indignation, she scarcely blamed Dudley at all for -his frigid greeting in Burlington Gardens. She realised vividly how -things must look from his point of view--so vividly that, with that -quick power of seeing both sides of a question which was her -compensation for "not being a reformer," she saw also her own danger, -and cried out in her heart, "Whatever happens, let me not lose my -pride!" - - -"I want you to come and have tea with me at the Hall on Saturday," -Lucy said, when the friends met at hospital a few days later. -"Knowing your love for what you are pleased to call 'sensuous -beauty,' I have asked Edgar Davidson's sister to meet you. She has -just come home from San Remo, and she really is the prettiest girl I -ever saw in my life." - -"I would go a long way to see a really beautiful woman," said Mona -laughing; "but I have a young friend whose swans show an awkward -tendency to turn out ugly ducklings." - -"Ah, well! wait till you see Miss Davidson." - -And when Saturday afternoon came, Mona confessed that Lucy was right. -There could be no doubt that Angela Davidson was a beauty. A winter -in the South had banished every apparent trace of delicacy, while -leaving behind a bloom that was really flower-like. - -"Miss Reynolds tells me that Lady Munro is your aunt," she said to -Mona. "Do you think she would mind my calling to thank her for her -wonderful kindness to Edgar at Monte Carlo?" - -"I am sure she would be delighted to see you," Mona answered warmly; -"but I expect she has entirely forgotten the incident." - -"I shall not forget it as long as I live. Edgar never knew what it -was to have a mother; and it seems as if people understood by a kind -of instinct how terribly unwilling I was to leave him without a -sister." - -"_A propos_ of that," said Lucy, "Miss Maclean is a co-medallist with -Dr Dudley." - -Miss Davidson raised wondering eyes. "You must be awfully clever," -she said simply. - -"Oh no; I failed twice before I carried home the medal. Do you know -Dr Dudley?" - -She scarcely even blushed as she asked the question. She was -delighted at her own assurance and self-possession. - -The girl's beautiful face lighted up. "I should think I did," she -said. "He has been the turning-point in my brother's life. There is -no one in the world to whom I owe so much as to Ralph Dudley." - -A curious pain shot through Mona's heart. She had never experienced -anything like it before, and it was gone before she could ask herself -what it meant. - -A few minutes later she rose to go. - -"I am afraid it is taking a great liberty, with any one so busy and -so clever," Miss Davidson said, in her pretty childlike fashion, "but -I should be so proud if you would come and see me next Thursday. -Miss Reynolds has promised to come, and I am expecting some of my -very best friends." - -"I will come with pleasure," said Mona quickly; and this time a more -perceptible colour rose into her white forehead. She wanted to see -this beautiful girl again, and--it would be interesting to know -whether "Ralph Dudley" was one of her "very best friends." - -That night as she sat by the open window in the twilight, looking out -on the lime-trees in the garden, the same unaccountable pain came -over her, and she proceeded to analyse it mercilessly. For a long -time she remained there with a deep furrow on her brow. - -"I thought I had attained," she said at last. "Were they all for -nothing, those years of striving after the highest, with strong -crying and tears? I thought I had attained, and here I am, at the -end of it, only a commonplace, jealous woman after all!" - -"Well," said Lucy the next day, "did I exaggerate? or is she as sweet -and as pretty as they make 'em now-a-days?" - -"I think she is," Mona said reflectively. "But don't introduce her -to other people as a 'sensuous beauty.' The word is misleading in -that connection." - -"So I suppose. I used it in strict accordance with your own -definition." - -"No doubt; but you will find that, on hearing it, the popular -imagination flies at once to a Rubens' model." - -"I am so glad you promised to go and see her on Thursday. I was -afraid you would not. When you were gone, I made her promise to ask -Dr Dudley to meet us." - -"_Lucy!_" - -"Why not? I like him, and it must be most refreshing to him, after -all the learned women he meets, to have this ignorant, beautiful -creature look at him with great worshipping eyes." - -"And you don't mind her telling him that we wished to meet him?" - -"Oh, she won't do that. I told her not to breathe the words 'medical -student.' It would be enough to keep him away. A man does not go -out to afternoon tea with the prospect of being waylaid on the -threshold of the drawing-room by an advanced woman who invites him to -'forget sex.'" - -But Mona was not listening. - -"It is so schoolgirl, so undignified! I would not stoop to ask a -mere acquaintance not to repeat something I had said." - -But now it was Lucy's turn to fire up. - -"And suppose she does repeat it?" she said. "Is it a crime to say -one wants to meet a good and clever man, who is years and years older -than one's self? If it is a crime, I can only say your influence -over me for the last three years has been less elevating than I -supposed. You have a perfect right to be inconsistent, Mona; but if -you expect me to be inconsistent at the same moment, and on precisely -the same lines, you might give me a little warning!" - - - - -CHAPTER LVI. - -A LOST CHANCE. - -"Dr Dudley, let me introduce you to Miss Maclean." - -Almost any hostess would have effected that introduction under the -circumstances. Ralph and Mona were the two people in the crowded -little drawing-room who made their presence felt; who, unconsciously -to themselves, suggested grave reponsibilities on the part of their -hostess; therefore by all means let them entertain each other. - -Mona bowed, as she would have done to a stranger, and Dudley seated -himself by her side. Without a moment's hesitation he began to -discuss a book that lay on the table, and never had Mona admired his -gift of utterance more. It was not that he said anything peculiarly -brilliant, but he talked so easily and fluently that even she could -not tell whether his self-possession was real or assumed. She would -have been in less doubt on the subject, perhaps, if she had trusted -herself to meet his eye when he entered the drawing-room. As it was, -she was determined not to be outdone, so for nearly half an hour the -stream of conversation ran lightly on. - -At length several people rose to go, and, in the slight stir this -involved, Ralph and Mona were left alone and unnoticed for a moment, -in the oriel window. - -In an instant the conversation ceased and their eyes met. - -"Dr Dudley," Mona said impulsively, in a very low voice, "what have I -done?" - -The same honest eyes as of old--the eyes that had smiled and deceived -him. - -"Done?" he said coldly, with an accent of surprise. "Nothing -whatsoever. I was under a stupid misapprehension as to the terms on -which we stood; but I have long since seen my mistake. That is all." - -He was annoyed with her for opening the subject there and -then,--forgetting that women cannot always choose their -opportunities,--but even as he spoke, his lips quivered; a terrible -struggle was concealed beneath the calmness of his manner. One word -more from her might have dragged aside the flimsy veil; but she, too, -had her pride. - -"Well, I am afraid I must go," she said, as Miss Davidson returned to -her remaining guests. "Don't let me hurry you, Lucy; I must get that -book you mentioned out of the library, Dr Dudley." - -She bowed to him with a frank cordiality that was far more cutting -than his coldness, shook hands with her hostess, and went away. -Lucy, of course, accompanied her, and Dudley was left to reap what he -had sown. - -But Mona could not bear even Lucy's society to-day, and she made an -excuse for parting from her before they had gone many hundred yards. -Then her lithe figure straightened itself defiantly. - -"Two chances I have given him," she said to herself; "and now, come -what come may, he shall make the third himself!" - - -When Mona came in from hospital a few days later, she was met by the -announcement that a gentleman had called to see her, and had said he -would return in the evening. - -"Did he leave no name?" she asked in some surprise. - -"No, ma'am, he said it was of no consequence." - -Mona bethought herself of Mr Reynolds. - -"Was he an old gentleman?" she said. - -"Oh no, ma'am; a youngish gentleman, tall and thin." - -Mona's heart leaped. "Show him up to my sitting-room when he comes," -she said quietly. - -She went to her lecture as usual that afternoon, but found it -difficult to give her full attention to the varieties, causes, and -treatment of aneurism. The moment the class was over she hurried -home, dressed with more than usual care, rearranged her flowers, -dined without knowing what was on the table, and then seated herself -in her rocking-chair with a book. - -But she did not read. She proceeded to make a leisurely, critical -survey of the room. It looked very pretty just then in the soft -evening light, and at worst it was a picturesque, suggestive place. - -She rose to her feet and redraped a curtain; then she glanced with -satisfaction at the soft folds of her gown, and seated herself again -with a sigh. How sensible of him it was to come to her quietly, here -in her own territory, where they could talk over everything -thoroughly, and explain all misunderstandings! - -A loud rat-tat-tat resounded through the house. Alas! she knew that -imperious knock only too well! A minute later Sir Douglas and her -aunt entered the room. - -"You do look well," he said, holding her at arm's-length before he -kissed her. "I never saw you with such a colour." - -"And your rooms are so charming," said Lady Munro. "I like them a -great deal better than ours in Gloucester Place." - -Mona laughed. She was well used by this time to her aunt's figures -of speech. - -"We are on our way to dinner at the Lacys', and as we had ten minutes -to spare----" - -"For a wonder!" growled Sir Douglas. - -"----Douglas was determined to look in upon you." - -Mona smiled across brightly at her uncle, but she fervently hoped the -ten minutes would be over before Dr Dudley arrived. It was at least -fortunate that the engagement was dinner. - -The ten minutes, however, still had half their course to run when -Mona heard a timid knock at the street-door. - -"That can't be his," she said to herself. But she did not find it -easy to preserve her self-control when she heard footsteps coming -up-stairs. - -A moment later the door was thrown open, and the parlour-maid -announced-- - -"Mr Brown from Kilwinnie." - -Mona's heart stood still, but the situation had to be faced. - -"How kind of you to come and see me!" she said, going forward to meet -him. "Aunt Maud, Uncle Douglas, this is my friend Mr Brown." - -She laid the least possible deliberate emphasis on the words "my -friend," and she turned to her uncle right proudly as she said them. - -Sir Douglas had risen from his chair when she did, and now he bowed -somewhat formally. The lines of his mouth were a little hard. -Possibly he found it difficult to suppress a smile. - -Mona made a motion of her hand towards an easy-chair, and Mr Brown -seated himself on the edge of it, wiping his brow with a large silk -handkerchief. - -"I was coming up to town on business," he said shyly, "so I got your -address from Mrs Easson." - -"Oh yes. How is Mrs Easson?" - -"She wasn't very well a week or two back, but she seems pretty much -in her usual again." - -Mona turned to her aunt. "Mr Brown is a fellow-enthusiast of mine on -the subject of botany," she said. "He is the greatest living -authority on the fauna and flora of the district in which he lives. -I want him to write a book on the subject." - -"Indeed!" said Lady Munro, with a pretty assumption of interest. - -Mr Brown shook his head. "No, no," he said, "Professor Bristowe was -saying that; but you would need to be familiar with the whole county -before you could write a book it would be worth while reading, and I -never have time to get very far. It's only once a-week that I can -get an afternoon away from the shop, and now I shall have less time -than ever." He looked rather sheepishly at Mona, and added, "They've -just over-persuaded me to take the Provost-ship." - -"I am glad to hear they have shown so much sense," she answered -cordially. "I don't know whether you are to be congratulated or not, -but I am quite sure they are." - -"Oh, I don't know that. They could easily have got somebody who was -more of a hand at speeches, but they would take no refusal, so to -say." - -There was a pause. - -"I suppose you have just come up to town?" Sir Douglas remarked -affably; and Mona looked at him with infinite gratitude. - -"I came up last night." He looked again at Mona. "I was here once -before, to-day." - -She smiled. "I heard that somebody had called, but I did not know it -was you. I am sorry you had the trouble of coming twice. I suppose -you find London a great deal warmer than Kilwinnie?" - -"It's warm everywhere just now." He turned to Sir Douglas, with an -idea that his next remark was peculiarly suited to masculine ears. -"It's very poor weather for the turnips." - -"Ah! I suppose it is," Sir Douglas said, so genially that Mr Brown -took courage, and looked at Mona's aunt. - -Lady Munro's Indian shawl had fallen back, and the draper made a -mental valuation of her heavy silk dress. It would be no use keeping -a thing like that in his shop. Then his eye fell on Sir Douglas, and -for the first time in his life he realised that a man could wear -evening-dress without making a fool of himself. From the easily -fitting swallow-tail his eye passed to the spotless, dazzling -shirt-front, and, with something of a blush, he pulled the sleeves of -his tweed coat over the cuffs which his sister had so carefully -trimmed before he left home. - -"I am afraid we shall have to go," Lady Munro said, glancing at -Mona's carriage clock; and, as she rose, she looked somewhat -pointedly at Mr Brown. - -The hint was lost on him, however. He bowed awkwardly to Lady Munro, -and waited till Mona returned to the sitting-room. - -"Miss Maclean," he blurted out hastily, "you will be disposed to -laugh at me when I tell you I came here to ask you to be my wife. I -knew you were far above me, but I had no notion of the like of this. -You've no need to tell me that it can never be, but if ever you stand -in need of a plain man's friendship, you know who to come to." - -He held out his hand, forgetful of the frayed cuff, and Mona's eyes -filled with tears as she took it. - -"It is true it can never be, Mr Brown," she said--"not because I am -above you, but because I don't love you as a good woman will some -day. But I shall be proud and grateful, as long as I live, to think -that so good a man has honoured me with his love." - -She went with him to the door, and with a few common-place words they -parted. - -For the first time in her life Mona felt something of a contempt for -Dr Dudley. - -"What a fool I am," she thought, "to break my heart for you, when at -least two greater men have wanted to make me their wife!" - -But, even as she spoke, she knew that her words were not perfectly -just. - - - - -CHAPTER LVII. - -HAVING IT OUT. - -Lucy had taken rooms for her mother in an unpretentious square in -Bloomsbury, and Mr Reynolds had gladly agreed to spend his short -summer holiday with his wife and daughter in London. Dr Alice -Bateson had called the day after their arrival, and had gone into the -case very thoroughly. - -"There is no doubt that your mother must have an operation," she had -said to Lucy, in her brusque fashion, "but it is nothing that need -make you unhappy. So far as one can see, the chances are all in her -favour, and she will be a different being when it is over. I would -like her to rest, and take a tonic for a week or so, in order to get -up her strength as much as possible; but I should not advise her to -postpone it any longer than that." - -Lucy was in great spirits. "What say you to that, Daddy," she cried, -"as the first-fruits of your investment in me? We shall see Mother -on the top of Snowdon before the summer is over." - -"I think we shall be glad to rest content with something short of -that," he said, smiling, and stroking his wife's soft hair. - -The operation was successfully accomplished in due course, and as -soon as Mrs Reynolds was well on the way to recovery, Lucy insisted -on taking her father about "to see something of life," as she -expressed it. - -"I thought I knew the full extent of your aunt's fascination," she -said to Mona, when the latter came in one day with a basket of -hothouse fruit for the invalid, "but I do wish you had seen her with -Father when we called. She was a perfect woman, and a perfect child. -He was awfully impressed--thinks in his heart that she is thrown away -on Sir Douglas, which, in the immortal words of Euclid, is absurd. -Lady Munro told me afterwards that Father made her wish she could go -back and live her life all over again. 'It is so strange,' she said, -with exquisite frankness, 'that he should be your father!' -'"Degeneration, a Chapter on Darwinism,'"--in fact?' I suggested; but -she only smiled sweetly and said, 'What _do_ you mean, child?'" - -"Was Sir Douglas at home?" - -"He came in for a few minutes at the end. He and my father got on -all right. Of course they only met as----" she paused. - -"Of course--as two men of the world." - -"Do you call my father a man of the world?" Lucy asked, surprised and -pleased. - -"Assuredly." - -"Of this world, or the other?" - -Mona raised her eyes slowly. "Looked at from your father's point of -view, it is a little difficult to say where this world ends and the -other begins. He would tell you that this is the other world, and -the other world w this." - -"No, indeed, he would not. Father never gets on to the eternals with -me." - -This was rather a sore point with Lucy, so she hastened on, "Do you -know, your aunt's 'At Home' is going to be no end of an affair?" - -"Is it?" - -"Yes; I am in a state of wild excitement. Father is giving me a new -gown." - -"I am frivolling shamefully this week," Mona said. "I have promised -to go to the Bernards' at Surbiton from Saturday to Monday. I don't -think I ought to go to my aunt's as well." - -"Tell Sir Douglas that! By the way, while you are here, you might -cast your eagle eye through that microscope, and tell me what the -slide is. I forgot to label it at the time, and now I can't spot it." - -Mona bent over Lucy's writing-table in the window. "I suppose you -are not used to picrocarmine," she said. "It is only a 'venous -congestion,' but it is cut far too thick. I can give you a much -better one." - -"Just scribble 'venous congestion' on the label, will you t before I -forget again. Now I think of it, Miss Clark told me it must be -'venous congestion,' because that was the only red one we had mounted -on a large slide! You will be shocked to hear, Mona, that I made -Father take me to hear Dr Dudley lecture last night. That man's -voice is worth a fortune!" - -"Far too thick," repeated Mona, with unnecessary emphasis. "You can -make out nothing with the high power at all. Where was he lecturing?" - -"To his Literary Society. Angela Davidson sent a note to tell me. -It really was magnificent--on The Rose in Tennyson.[1] I thought I -knew my Tennyson, but Dr Dudley's insight seemed to me perfectly -wonderful. He was showing how, all through Tennyson's poems, the red -rose means love, and he showed it in a thousand things I had never -thought of before. He began with _The Gardener's Daughter_, and with -simple idyllic quotations, like-- - - 'Her feet have touched the meadows, - And left the daisies rosy.' - - -[1] The following sketch was suggested by a very beautiful but as yet -unpublished paper, by a friend of the author. - - -And he showed us how the whole world becomes a rose to the lover. -You know the passage, beginning, 'Go not, happy day.' Then he worked -us gradually on to the tragedy of love,-- - - 'I almost fear they are not roses, but blood.' - -It made one's flesh creep to hear him say that. And again -triumphantly,-- - - 'The blood-red blossom of war with a heart of fire.' - -Then he took us by surprise, passed beyond human love altogether, and -ended up with God's rose:-- - - 'At last I heard a voice upon the slope - Cry to the summit, "Is there any hope?" - To which an answer pealed from that high land, - But in a tongue no man could understand; - And on the glittering limit far withdrawn - God made Himself an awful rose of dawn.' - -I did not understand it all; but, when he stopped, I found my eyes -were full of tears, and Father was so struck that he went up to speak -to Dr Dudley before we came away." - -Mona said nothing. What would she not have given to have heard that -paper! - -"But here comes Dad," Lucy went on. "Father, I want you to tell Mona -about that lecture last night." - -"Your mother wants you, dear," he said, laying his hand on her -shoulder, and then he seated himself by the open window. - -"Yes, I confess I was very much struck," he said. "One rarely meets -with such fine--_appreciation_. It seems to me that young man will -make his mark. I should greatly like his help with a little bit of -work I am doing on Wordsworth just now, so I asked him to come and -see me some evening. He promised very cordially to do so to-morrow, -and now I want him to meet my elder daughter. If you can spare the -time, I am sure you would enjoy hearing him talk. Will you come?" - -Mona retained sufficient presence of mind to wonder whether it was -worth while trying to conceal how far she had lost it, and then she -turned her white face to Mr Reynolds. - -"I think I had better not come," she said, rather breathlessly. -"I--know Dr Dudley." - -Nay, verily! If ever they met again, it should be by no doing of -hers. - -"Just as you please, dear, of course." - -She was a little surprised that Mr Reynolds asked no questions. She -did not know that she had already given him the remaining links of -her story, and that the chain in his mind was now practically -complete. - - -All through the lecture on the previous evening, Dudley had wondered -vaguely to whom the grand white head belonged, and when the owner of -it came up at the close, and told him how much he had enjoyed the -evening, Dudley felt the compliment much more keenly than most clever -young men would have done. He was drawing sufficiently near the -farther boundary of youth to dread the advance of age; and his love -and admiration for Mrs Hamilton made a warm corner in his heart for -all old people. - -He arrived early on the evening of his appointment, and knocked at -the door with a good deal of pleasant anticipation. The Reynolds -seemed to have brought with them to London the atmosphere of their -country home. The room was sweet with old-fashioned flowers, tea and -fruit and home-made cake were laid out on the spotless cloth, and the -windows were opened wide on a world of green. Moreover, the very -sight of Mr Reynolds's refined and beautiful face seemed to throw the -dust and turmoil of the world outside into the far distance. Petty -aims lost half their attraction, the ideal became more real, when one -entered that plain little room. "Is this really London?" Dudley -said, as he shook hands with the invalid on the sofa. - -"I am happy to say it is," she answered, smiling. "London has done -great things for me." - -"That is right. We hear so much of its misdeeds now-a-days that it -is refreshing to be brought in contact with the other side of the -question." - -In a few minutes Lucy came in, bright and smiling. Dudley had not -noticed her with her father at the lecture, and her relationship to -the saintly old clergyman was as great a surprise to him as it had -been to Lady Munro. - -"How I wish I had asked Mona to come in!" she exclaimed, as she -seated herself in front of the tea-tray. - -No one answered, but Mr Reynolds glanced at his visitor's face. - -"You know who I mean," Lucy went on, turning to Dudley, "my friend -Miss Maclean. You were talking to her for a long time at the -Davidsons' the other day. Is not she awfully clever?" - -"Particularly, I should think." - -There was no sneer in the words, but the frank, almost boyish -simplicity, which had come so naturally to Dudley a few minutes -before, was gone. - -"'Her price is far above rubies,'" quoted Mr Reynolds quietly. - -It was Dudley's turn now to raise his eyes, and glance quickly at his -host. - -Whenever there was a pause in the conversation, Lucy had some fresh -tale to tell about Mona. This was nothing new with her, and Mr -Reynolds made no effort to prevent it. He thought it a fortunate -chance that, without a hint from him, she should thus unconsciously -play so effectually into his hands. He could scarcely tell whether -Dr Dudley found the conversation trying or not, but there could be no -doubt that the young man was profoundly interested. - -"Do you know Sir Douglas Munro?" he said suddenly to Lucy. - -"Oh yes, very well indeed. Do you?" - -"I met him accidentally, a year or two ago, and the other day I -called to ask him to give me his votes for a case I am trying to get -into the Incurable Hospital. He was very cordial, and asked me to a -musical evening at his house to-morrow." - -"Oh, do go! It is going to be splendid, and I expect you will hear -Miss Maclean sing. She has such a sympathetic voice." - -Wordsworth received but scant justice when the two men retired to Mr -Reynolds's study. Each felt strongly the spiritual kinship of the -other, and they talked as men rarely do talk at a first or second -meeting. - -"I have stayed an unconscionable time," Ralph said at last, "and I -hope you will let me come again. I can scarcely tell you what you -have done for me. You have made me feel that 'the best is yet to -be.'" - -Mr Reynolds did not answer immediately. When he did, it was to say -somewhat dreamily-- - - "'But I need now as then, - Thee, God, who mouldest men.' - -I wish I had your voice, Dr Dudley. With such an organ, and with -such a faith, you ought to be able to move mankind." - -"Faith?" repeated Dudley; "I am not overburdened with that." - -"By faith I did not mean creed. I was thinking of your paper the -other evening." - -Dudley winced. "That paper was not written yesterday," he said. "I -had neither the heart nor the energy to write another, so I - - 'Gored mine own thought, sold cheap what is most dear." - -Greater men than I have preached to-day the faith of yesterday, in -the hope that it might return to-morrow. But I am afraid that sort -of faith never does return." - -"Had you built your house upon the sand?" - -Ralph coloured. He could not honestly say that. - -"Dr Dudley," said the old man quietly, "you and I have been disposed -to trust each other to-night. Before you go, there is one thing I -want to tell you. You know that Miss Maclean is my daughter's -friend. I don't know whether you are aware that she is as dear to me -as my own child; that outside my own small family circle there is no -woman living in whom I am so deeply interested. I invited her to -meet you this evening, and she refused. If you had not made me -respect you, I should not ask you, as I do now, to tell me why she -refused?" - -Dudley's face was a battle-field of conflicting emotions. - -"What has she told you about me?" he said at last. - -"She has never mentioned your name." Mr Reynolds hesitated; and then -made up his mind to risk all, and go on. "One day I was praising her -steadfastness of purpose in remaining in her uncongenial surroundings -at Borrowness, and she told me, with an honesty of which I am not -sure that you and I would have been capable, that--the people she met -were not all uncongenial. She spoke as a girl speaks who has never -thought of love or marriage; but her words conveyed more to my mind -than they meant to her." - -Vague as Mr Reynolds's words were, he could have chosen no surer key -to unlock Ralph's heart. A vivid picture of the old idyllic days at -Castle Maclean flashed across his mind, and with it came an almost -unbearable sense of regret. Oh, the pity of it! the pity of it! - -"I will tell you!" he burst out suddenly. "God knows it will be a -relief to speak to any man, and I believe you will understand. -Besides, I _owe_ an explanation to somebody who cares for her. -Ninety-nine men out of a hundred would have thought nothing of it, -but to me it was _just everything_. If she failed me there, she -failed me everywhere. One could reason about a crime, but you can't -reason about a subtle thing like that. It is in the grain of a man's -mind. If it strikes you, it strikes you; and if it doesn't strike -you, it doesn't strike you; and that's final. It is everything or -nothing. And the worst of it is, that as things stand, I have -wronged her horribly, and I can't put it right. If she were an -ordinary woman it would be a matter of honour to ignore it all, and -ask her to be one's wife; but she is Miss Maclean. If one has any -_arrière pensée_, one must at least have the decency to let things -alone, and not insult her farther." - -In the course of Mr Reynolds's experience as a clergyman he had heard -many incoherent confessions, but he had rarely listened to one which -left him so completely in the dark as this. His face betrayed no -perplexity, however, as he said, "Tell me how you met her, and where." - -Then by degrees the truth began to dawn upon him. With bitter -self-mockery, Dudley told the story of his doubt as to whether he -could marry a "shop-girl"; told how his passion grew till it swept -away all obstacles; and then he just hinted at what took place that -stormy night when he brought her home from the wood. - -"And you told her you loved her?" The words were spoken very quietly -and as a matter of course. - -Dudley's face flushed more deeply. - -"I think we had both risen pretty well above the need of words that -night," he said, with a nervous laugh. "When an electric spark -passes between two spheres---- You see, I was weighed down by the -feeling that I had wasted my life; this London course was a sort of -atonement; and I would not ask a woman to be my wife till I had at -least left all schoolboy work behind me. But that night I forgot -myself." - -"And when you met her next----?" - -"I left Borrowness the next day." Dudley's lip curled. "Our next -meeting was a fine dramatic tableau at Burlington House, a modern -version of the sudden transformation of Cinderella." - -"But you had written to her?" - -Dudley shook his head. "I had told her--before that night--that I -should not be a free man till my examination was over in July. She -was so quick; she always seemed to understand. But when I went down -to Borrowness, half mad with longing for her--her cousin had gone to -America, and Miss Maclean, I was told, was starting for Switzerland -with a party of friends!" - -"Did you write to her then?" - -"I did not know her address. And it was no use _writing_ about a -thing like that. Then came my aunt's long illness. She was the best -friend I had in the world, and she died." - -He paused, and resumed with a sudden change of tone, "Miss Maclean -told me her name was Margaret." - -"Margaret is her second name." - -"Of course I know," Dudley broke out again vehemently, "that -thousands of men would treat the whole affair as a joke; would be -glad to find that the woman they loved had money and position, after -all; but I cared for Miss Maclean on a plane above that. It drives -me mad to think how she sat looking at me with those honest eyes, -listening to my confessions, and playing her pretty little comedy all -the time." - -Mr Reynolds waited in vain for Dudley to go on before he spoke. - -"I cannot imagine," he said at last, "why you did not ask her to -explain herself." - -Dudley bit his lip. "If Miss Maclean had forged a cheque," he said, -"I should have asked her to explain herself. It seems to me that the -one thing in life of which no explanation is possible, in a -difference of opinion as to what is due to friendship--or love." - -"Did it never occur to you that Miss Maclean's cousin might have -bound her over not to tell any one that she was a medical student?" - -There was a pause. - -"Why should she?" Dudley asked harshly. - -"_Why_ she did it I presume was best known to herself--though, -considering the kind of person she seems to have been, it does not -strike me as particularly surprising; but one thing I am in a -position to say unhesitatingly, and that is, that she did do it." - -Another long pause. - -"Even if she did," Dudley said, "what was a trumpery promise like -that between her and me, if she loved me?" - -"Perhaps you did not give her much opportunity to speak of herself; -but when I saw her in October, she certainly did not love any man. -Whether you taught her to love you afterwards, you are of course the -best judge. I do not think she was bound to tell you before she knew -that you loved her; and, judging from your own account of what took -place, you do not seem to have made it very easy for a -self-respecting woman to tell you afterwards." - -Little by little the truth of this came home to Ralph, as he sat with -his eyes fixed on the glowing embers of the fire. - -Mr Reynolds gave his words time to take full effect and then went on. - -"When I think how you have made that sensitive girl suffer, Dr -Dudley, I am tempted to forget that I owe my knowledge of the -circumstances entirely to your courtesy." - -Ralph looked up with a rather wintry smile. - -"Don't spare me," he said. "Hit hard!" And then there was another -long silence. - -"The one thing I cannot explain," said Mr Reynolds, "is her telling -you that her name was Margaret." - -"Oh, that's simple enough. It was in early days. I was talking of -the name in the abstract, and she said it was hers; I daresay she -never thought of the incident again; and then I saw it in her -prayer-book--her mother's, no doubt. Mr Reynolds, I have been a -blind fool; but I do think still that she ought to have told me." - -"Since the old man has your permission to hit hard, you will allow me -to say, that I think you do not realise how far injured pride has a -share in your righteous indignation; but I have no wish to convince -you. I would fain see my 'elder daughter' the wife of a nobler man." - -Ralph smiled in spite of himself. - -"That certainly is delivered straight out from the shoulder!" he -said; "but do you think it is quite just? Every man is exacting on -certain points. That was mine. But I am not a savage. No woman on -earth should be so free and so honoured as my wife." - -Mr Reynolds rose and held out his hand. - -"It is midnight," he said, "and I have no more to say. Go home and -think about it." - -But when Ralph left the house, it was not to go home, but to pace up -and down the squares, in such a tumult of excitement and thanksgiving -as he had never known before. - - - - -CHAPTER LVIII. - -"LOVE MAY GO HANG!" - -Lady Munro's "At Home" proved, as Lucy had predicted, "no end of an -affair." Sir Douglas considered it snobbish to entertain on a scale -beyond the resources of his own _ménage_; but, if the thing was to be -done, he would at least have it done without any visible straining on -the part of host and hostess. So the rooms at Gloucester Place were -given over to the tender mercies of Liberty and Gunter for a day or -two, and during that time most people found it advisable to keep out -of Sir Douglas's way. - -When Mona alighted from her cab on the expanse of crimson drugget -before the door, she would not have recognised her aunt's rooms. The -half lights, the subtle Eastern aroma, and the picturesque figure of -Nubboo had disappeared, giving place to a blaze of pretty lamps, -festoons of æsthetic drapery, profuse vegetation, and groups of -magnificent footmen. - -"Come along, Mona!" Evelyn cried impatiently. "Lucy has been here -for half an hour. I was so afraid you would be too late to see the -rooms before the bloom is knocked off them. The supper-table is -simply a dream." - -"_Bless my soul!_" said Lucy, in an awestruck whisper, as Mona threw -off her cloak. "You do look imposing! Mary Stuart going to the -scaffold is not in it. I don't think I ever saw you in black before. -If only you would show a little more of that swan-white neck and -arms, I honestly believe this would be the achievement by which you -would live in history." - -"The fact is," Mona said, laughing, "it has been borne in upon me -lately that the youthfulness of my appearance now-a-days is dependent -on the absence from the stage of sweet seventeen; so I resolved, like -Sir Walter Scott, to strike out in a new line. I aim at dignity now. -This"--she glanced over her shoulder at the stately figure in the -pier-glass--"is my _Waverley_. I flatter myself that you young -Byrons can't compete with me here." - -"No, indeed! Schoolgirl is the word," Lucy said, ruefully stepping -in front of Mona to survey her own pretty gown in the pier-glass; but -this was so palpably untrue that they all laughed. - -"I am sure you looked dignified enough in the blue velvet. I wonder -you did not wear your diamonds, Mona, while you were about it?" - -"I wanted to, but I did not dare to do it without asking Uncle -Douglas, and he would not hear of such a thing. The old darling! He -sent me these white orchids to make up. I must go and let him see -how they look, before people begin to arrive." - -But Sir Douglas was only half pleased with Mona's gown. - -"It is all very well in a crowd like this, perhaps," he said, "but -don't wear that dowager plumage when we are by ourselves." - -An hour later the rooms were full, and a crowd had gathered in the -street below to listen to the music, and to catch an occasional -glimpse of fair faces and dainty gowns. - -Several professional singers had been engaged, but when most of the -people had gone down to supper, and the music-room was half empty, -Sir Douglas begged Mona to sing. - -"We want something to rest our nerves," he said, "after all that. -Sing that little thing of Beethoven's." - -He had heard her singing it in her own room one day, when she did not -know he was within hearing, and the pathetic song had been a -favourite with him ever since. - -It was a fine exercise in self-control, and Mona accepted it. The -excitement of the evening raised her somewhat above the level of her -own personality, and she thought she could do justice to the pathos -of the song without spoiling it by feeling too much. - - "But if thy vow weary thee now, - Though I should weep for thee, come not to me." - - -The door of the music-room stood open, and it was fortunate for the -success of her song that the last wailing notes had died away before -she caught sight of a figure on the landing, reflected in the mirror -opposite. - -In an instant the sympathetic pleading look went out of her face; she -struck a few defiant chords, and launched into Moore's quaint, -piquant little melody:-- - - "When Love is kind, cheerful, and free, - Love's sure to find welcome from me; - But when Love brings heartache and pang, - Tears and such things, Love may go hang! - - If Love can sigh for one alone, - Well-pleased am I to be that one; - But if I see Love giv'n to rove - To two or three,--then good-bye, Love! - - Love must, in short, keep fond and true, - Through good report and evil too; - Else here I swear young Love may go, - For aught I care, to Jericho!" - - -She sang with great _verve_, and of course there was a storm of -applause as she finished. - -Ralph, looking on, could scarcely believe his eyes and ears. Was she -thinking of him? Had his love brought her heartache and pang? He -would fain have persuaded himself at that moment that it had; but the -very idea of such a thing seemed ridiculous as he looked at her now. - -What a chameleon she was! Ever since his conversation with Mr -Reynolds the night before, he had pictured her looking up in his face -with that sweet half-childlike expression, "Dr Dudley, what have I -done?" and here she was, cold, brilliant, self-possessed, surrounded -by a group of men of the world, and apparently very much at her ease -with them. - -"Why, Mona!" Sir Douglas said, laying his hand on her arm. - -It was a pretty sight to see how her face changed. - -"Don't be angry," she said coaxingly, turning away from the others. -"We have had nothing but sentiment all evening, and it proved -nauseous at last." - -"We will discuss that another time. Come now and have some supper." - -Dudley escaped into the adjoining room. He felt positively jealous -of Sir Douglas. - -"What the deuce did I come here for?" he said, looking round the sea -of unknown faces. He would not own, even to himself, that he had -come in the hope of having a long talk with Mona. But just then he -caught sight of Lucy Reynolds, and went up to speak to her. - -"Oh, Dr Dudley, I am so glad to see you," she said eagerly. - -This was very soothing, and Ralph seated himself on a vacant chair -beside her. - -"I hope your father may be able to say the same when I meet him next. -I am afraid I proved a heavy strain on his endurance last night." - -"Oh no! I will spare your blushes, and not tell you what father said -of you at breakfast this morning." - -But this remark had not the desired effect of sparing Ralph's blushes. - -"Do you know many people here?" he asked. - -"No, I am rather out of it." - -"So am I. It was quite refreshing to see a face I knew." - -"Have you seen Miss Maclean?" - -"I have heard her sing. She seems to be greatly in requisition." - -"Well, of course she is practically a daughter of the house, and Miss -Munro is so young." - -"May I have the pleasure of taking you down to supper?" - -"Thank you, I have promised to go with Mr Lacy. Here he comes." - -And Ralph was left alone once more. He could not tear himself away -from the house till he had seen Mona again; and, while he waited, he -suddenly espied his friend Jack Melville. - -"How in the world do you come to be here?" he asked, surprised. - -"If I had not been well brought up, dear boy, I should repeat the -question. As it is, with characteristic complaisance I answer it. I -am here, firstly, because I cherish a hopeless passion for Lady -Munro; secondly, because my cousins were kind enough to bring me." - -"I did not know you knew the Munros." - -"My acquaintance with them is not profound. It is enough to see Lady -Munro, and hear her speak. She is simply perfect; at least I thought -so until I was introduced to her niece. Jove! Ralph, that is a -stunning girl!" - -Ralph did not answer. - -"Did you see her sing?" - -"I heard her." - -"Ah, but you should have seen her. She changed completely when she -sang that first thing. She has a face like your _Nydia_." - -At this moment Mona entered the room on her uncle's arm. She was, as -Ralph had said, very much in requisition, and it was almost -impossible to get a chance to speak to her. Ralph was very pale with -excitement. Convinced as he now was that he had inflicted a great -deal of unnecessary suffering, possibly on her, and certainly on -himself, he would not have found it easy to face even Miss Simpson's -assistant. How, then, was he to address this woman of the world, who -sat there so thoroughly at ease in her own circle, so utterly -regardless of him? - -Ralph watched his opportunity, however, and when Mona rose, he took -his courage in both hands. - -"Miss Maclean," he said, in a low voice, "will you allow me to see -you to your carriage?" - -"Thank you very much," she said simply, "but I have promised to stay -here all night." - -Ralph bit his lip. No, certainly she had not been thinking of him -when she sang that song. - -He made a few commonplace remarks, to which Mona replied quietly, but -it was maddening work trying to talk to her in that crowd, and he -soon gave up the attempt in despair. To-morrow, thank heaven! he -could see her alone. - -"Have not you had enough of this, Jack?" he said to his friend. "I -vote we go home." - -"Done! Let's go and have a smoke." - -When the two men entered Dudley's sitting-room, Jack walked straight -up to the _Nydia_ on the wall. - -"There!" he said triumphantly. "Miss Maclean might have stood for -that." - -"Or you might!" said Ralph scornfully. - -But when his friend was gone, he owned to himself that there was a -superficial resemblance to Mona in the contour of the face, and in -the breadth of movement suggested by the artist. Ralph laid down his -meerschaum and walked across the room to look at it. - -The blind girl was carrying roses--white roses--all white. One red -rose had been among them, but it had fallen unheeded to the ground, -and would soon be trodden under foot on the tesselated pavement. Why -had she dropped the red rose? She could ill spare that. - -And then a curious fancy came upon him, and he asked himself whether -Mona too had dropped her red rose. She had seemed so cold, so -self-possessed, so passionless. Did the red rose lie quite, quite -behind her? Was it already withered and trampled under foot, or -could he still help her to pick it up again? - -"Oh, my love, my love," he said, "you don't really care for all those -men! You do belong to me, don't you? don't you?" - -But at this point Ralph's thoughts became incoherent, if indeed they -had not been so before. - -To-morrow, at least, thank God! she would be out of the din and -crowd; to-morrow he could see her alone, and say whatever he would. - - - - -CHAPTER LIX. - -AT LAST! - -Neither Ralph nor Mona slept much that night. - -Mr Reynolds had said nothing to his "elder daughter" about his -conversation with Dr Dudley. He had sufficient confidence in her -absolute honesty to believe that she would do herself more justice if -she were taken unprepared; but Ralph's manner at the Munros' had been -a revelation in itself, and Mona felt sure that night that, for -better or worse, some great change had taken place in his feelings -towards her. - -"Let me not lose my pride!" she cried. "Nothing can alter the fact -that he has treated me cruelly--cruelly." - -She had promised to go down to Surbiton to spend a day or two with a -fellow-student, and, unwilling as she was to leave London at this -juncture, she determined to keep her promise to the letter. - -So when Ralph knocked at her door in the early afternoon, he was met -by the news that she had gone to the country till Monday. She had -started only a few minutes before, and had left no address; but the -maid had heard her tell the cabman to drive to Waterloo. - -Two minutes later Ralph was tearing through the streets in a hansom. -He had wasted time enough, fool that he was! Nothing should induce -him now to wait another hour. - -Just outside the station he met Lucy. - -"Mona is starting for Surbiton," she said. "I am hurrying to catch a -train at Cannon Street." - -"Alone?" - -Lucy did not ask to whom he referred. "Yes," she said. - -"Thank you." He lifted his hat, and turned away without another -word. With the reckless speed of a schoolboy he tore through the -station, and overtook the object of his search as she passed inside -the rail of the booking office. - -"Two first-class tickets for Surbiton," he said, before she had time -to speak. - -"One third-class return for Surbiton," said Mona, with a dignity that -strangely belied the beating of her heart. - -"No hurry, sir," said the man, stamping Mona's ticket first. "You -have three minutes yet." - -"I have got your ticket," Dudley said, joining Mona on the platform. -"You will come with me." - -The words were spoken almost more as a command than as a request. - -("Let me not lose my pride!") - -"Thank you very much." she said; "I never travel first-class." - -"You will to-day." - -Her only answer was to open the door of a third-class carriage. - -Dudley bit his lip--then smiled. "Do you _prefer_ a -smoking-carriage?" he said. - -She laughed nervously, and, moving on to the next, entered it without -a word. Ralph longed to follow her, but he prudently thought better -of it. - -With punctilious courtesy he saw her into the carriage; and then, -closing the door, he lifted his hat and walked away. - -Mona turned very pale. - -"I cannot help it," she said. "He has treated me cruelly, and he -cannot expect me to forget it all in a moment." But I think it would -have done Ralph's heart good if he could have seen the expression of -her face. - -Very slowly the train moved off, but Ralph's lucky star must have -been in the ascendant, for at the last moment a party of rough men -burst open the door, and projected themselves into the carriage where -Mona was sitting alone. They did not mean to be offensive, but they -laughed and talked loudly, and spat on the floor, and fondled their -pipes in a way that was not suggestive of prolonged abstinence from -the not very fragrant weed. - -At the first station Ralph opened the door. - -"You seem rather crowded here," he said, in a voice of cold courtesy. -"There is more room in a carriage further along. Do you think it -worth while to move?" - -"Thank you," said Mona, and she rose and took his hand. - -"Let me not lose my pride!" she prayed again, but she felt, as she -had done that night long ago in the shadow of the frosted pines, as -if the earth was slipping away from under her feet. - -He followed her into the carriage and closed the door. It was big -with meaning for both of them, the sound of that closing door. - -Neither spoke until the train had moved off. - -"You need not have been so afraid to grant me an interview, Miss -Maclean," he said at length. "I only wished to ask your forgiveness." - -In one great wave the blood rushed over her face, and she held out -her hand. - -"Oh, Dr Dudley, forgive _me_!" she said. - -"I want to," he said quite simply. "I have been far more to blame -than you, but that is nothing. Tell me about it. Did our friendship -mean nothing to you?--had I no claim upon your candour? Don't look -out of the window; look me in the face." - -"Dr Dudley," she said, "you are so quick, so clever, did you not see? -My cousin had asked me not to say that I was a medical student, and I -had promised faithfully to do as she wished. It never entered my -mind at that time that I might want to tell any one down there, -and--and--I did not know till that night at the fir-wood---- But I -can't bear to have mysteries, even from my friends, and a dozen times -I was going to ask her permission to tell you, but somehow I had not -the courage. One morning, in the shop, after your first visit to -Rachel, I wanted to tell you then, and risk her anger afterwards; but -my heart beat so fast that I was ashamed to speak. Don't you see? -It was one of those trifles that one thinks about, and thinks about, -till one can't say or do them--like stopping to consider before -jumping across an easy crevasse. And yet, let me say this one thing -in my own defence. You can scarcely conceive how little opening you -gave me, how absolutely you took me for granted." - -An expression of infinite relief had come over his face while she was -speaking; but now he winced and drew down his brows. "Don't!" he -ejaculated gloomily. Then he shook himself. "I retract that -'Don't,'" he said. "You shall say what you please. Your touch is a -great deal gentler than my boundless egotism deserves." - -"It was not egotism," Mona said, recovering her self-possession in a -moment, with a pretty toss of her head. "I will not be cheated out -of the gracefullest compliment that ever was paid to me. I should -have been dreadfully hurt if you had told me I was out of -perspective." - -"Your reading is the correct one," said Dudley gravely. "You are -perfectly right." - -But his own confession was still to make, and he was determined not -to make it by halves. - -"In the course of our acquaintance, Miss Maclean," he began somewhat -stiltedly, "you have known me in the three-fold capacity of snob, -fool, and child." - -"In the course of our acquaintance," Mona interrupted hastily, "I -have known you in the threefold capacity of teacher, friend, and----" - -"And what?" - -She laughed. "Memory fails me. I don't know." - -His eyes glowed like fire. - -"Don't you?" he said, with a tremor in his beautiful voice. "_Come -and learn!_" - -He rose and held out his arms. - -Mona tried to laugh, but the laugh died away on her lips; she looked -out of the window, but the landscape swam before her eyes; even the -noisy racketing of the train sank away into the background of her -perception, and she was conscious of nothing save the magnetism of -his presence, and then of the passionate pressure of his arms. Her -head fell back, and her beautiful lips--all ignorant and -undefended--lay just beneath his own. - -Oh human love! what are you?--the fairest thing that God has made, or -a Will-o'-the-wisp sent to brighten a brief space of life's journey -with delusive light? I know not. This I know, that when Ralph sent -a kiss vibrating through Mona's being, waking up a thousand echoes -that had scarcely been stirred before, the happiness of those two -human souls was almost greater than they could bear. - - - - -CHAPTER LX. - -ON THE RIVER. - -Mona did not go to Surbiton, after all, that day. She telegraphed to -her friend from Clapham Junction, and then she and Ralph took the -train to Richmond. - -"Let me take you for a pull on the river," he had said. "I have -never done anything for you in my life, and my arms just ache to be -used in your service. Oh Mona, Mona, Mona! it seems too good to be -possible that you are still the same simple, true-hearted girl that I -knew at Castle Maclean. By the way, do you know that Castle Maclean -is yours for life now? At least Carlton Lodge is, and only the -sea-gulls are likely to dispute my princess's claim to her -battlements." - -He handed her into a boat, and rowed out into the middle of the river. - -"Now," he said, "you shall see what your slave's muscles are worth." - -Like an arrow the little boat shot through the water in the sunshine, -and Mona laughed with delight at the exhilaration of the swift -rushing movement. - -"That will do, Dr Dudley," she said at last. "Don't kill yourself." - -"I don't answer to the name," he said shortly, pulling harder than -ever. - -"Oh, do please stop!" she cried. - -"Who is to stop?" he panted, determined not to give in. - -There was a moment's pause. A deep rosy colour settled on her eager -face. - -"Ralph," she said, scarcely above a whisper. - -The oars came to a standstill with a splash in the middle of a -stroke, and Ralph leaned forward with a low delighted laugh. Then he -sighed. - -"You had no eyes for me last night, Mona," he said. - -"Had not I?" - -"_Had you?_" very eagerly. - -But when the language of looks and smiles begins, the historian does -well to lay aside his pen. Are not these things written in the -memory of every man and woman who has lived and loved? - -Not that there was any lack of words between them that day. They had -such endless arrears of talk to make up; and a strange medley it -would have sounded to a third pair of ears. Now they were laughing -over incidents in their life at Borrowness, now exchanging memories -of childhood, and now consulting each other about puzzling cases they -had seen in hospital. - -It was a long cloudless summer day, and for these two it was one of -those rare days when the cup of pure earthly happiness brims over, -and merges into something greater. Every simple act of life took on -a fresh significance now that it was seen through the medium of a -double personality; every trifling experience was full of flavour and -of promise, like the first-fruits of an infinite harvest. - -What is so hard to kill as the illusions of young love? Crushed -to-day under the cynicism and the grim experience of the ages, they -raise their buoyant heads again to-morrow, fresher and more fragrant -than ever. - -"I am going in to see Mr Reynolds for a few minutes," Ralph said, as -they walked home in the twilight. "Do you know when I can see your -uncle?" - -"On Monday morning, I should think--not too early. I want to tell -you about Sir Douglas. He never was my guardian, and two years ago I -had not even seen him; but his kindness to me since then has been -beyond all words. Whatever he says--and I am afraid he will say a -great deal--you must not quarrel with him. He won't in the end -refuse me anything I have set my heart on. You see, he scarcely -knows you at all, and that whole Borrowness episode is hateful to him -beyond expression." - -And indeed, when Ralph called at Gloucester Place on Monday, Sir -Douglas forgot himself to an extent which is scarcely possible to a -gentleman, unless he happen to be an Anglo-Indian. - -Ralph stated his case well and clearly, but for a long time Sir -Douglas could scarcely believe his ears. When at last doubt was no -longer possible, he sat for some minutes in absolute silence, the -muscles of his face twitching ominously. - -"By Jove! sir, you have the coolness of Satan!" he burst forth at -last, in a voice of concentrated passion; and every word that Ralph -added to better his cause was torn to pieces and held up to derision -with merciless cruelty. - -The moment his visitor was out of the house, Sir Douglas put on his -hat and went in search of Mona. - -"It is not true, is it," he said, "that you want to marry that -fellow?" - -So Mona told the story of how the clever young doctor fell in love -with the village shop-girl. - -"King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid, in fact," he sneered. "If that -young whipper-snapper had had the impertinence to tell me that he -thought you were really a shop-girl, I should have knocked him down -on my own doorstep. Who is Dr Dudley? I never heard of him before." - -"I am afraid I am no authority on pedigrees," Mona said, smiling. -"But I have no doubt you could get the required information from -Colonel Lawrence." - -To the last Sir Douglas maintained that he could not imagine what -Mona saw in the fellow; but he came by degrees to admit to himself -that things might have been worse. If Mona was determined to -practise medicine, as was certainly the case, it was as well that she -should have a man to relieve her of those parts of the work in which -her womanhood was not an essential factor; and it was a great matter -to think that he could have his niece in London under his own eye. - -Jack Melville's opinion was characteristic. - -"Well played, Ralph!" he exclaimed. "It just shows that one never -ought to despair of a man. When you went down to Borrowness after -your Intermediate, I could have sworn that the siren was going to -have an easy walk over." - -"I am glad you both had sense enough to settle it so quickly," Lucy -said phlegmatically, when Mona told her the news. - -"Do you mean to say you suspected anything?" - -"Suspected! I call that gratitude! The first time I saw Dr Dudley -at St Kunigonde's, he said the surgery was as close as a Borrowness -town-council room; and as soon as I mentioned him to you, I saw it -all. I have been trying to bring you together ever since. -_Suspect_, indeed! I can tell you, Mona, it was as well for my peace -of mind that I did suspect." - -"What a she-Lothario it is!" - -"Don't be alarmed," said Lucy loftily. "When I was a child I thought -as a child, but--I have outgrown all such frivolities. I--_I_ am to -be the advanced woman, after all! When you and Doris are lost in -your nurseries, I shall be posing as a martyr, or leading a forlorn -hope!" - - - - -CHAPTER LXI. - -A _FIN-DE-SIÈCLE_ COURTSHIP. - -It was arranged that the wedding should take place as soon as Ralph -and Mona had passed their M.B. examination in the October of the -following year; and during the fifteen months that intervened, they -resolved to devote themselves with a whole heart to their studies, -and if possible to forget that they were lovers. - -"It would never do to fail at this juncture," Mona said, when the -first week of their engagement came to an end, "and I certainly shall -fail if we go on living at this rate. I have a great mind to go to -the Colquhouns', and study at the Edinburgh School." - -This arrangement was rendered needless, however, by Dudley's election -as house-surgeon at St Kunigonde's,--an appointment which left him -little time for reading, and less for any kind of recreation. - -So they rarely saw each other more than once a week, and on these -occasions Mona decreed that they should meet simply as good friends -and comrades. - -"For you must see, Ralph," she said, "how easy it is to crowd the -life and energy of seven days into that one weekly meeting." - -"Your will shall be law," he said. "What a spending we shall have -some day, after all this saving!" - -But I doubt whether any man ever got more pleasure from his courtship -than Ralph did. There was a very subtle delight about the pretty -pretence that the touch of Mona's hand meant no more than the touch -of a friend's; and, in proportion as she gave him little, he valued -that little much. - -So the winter passed away, and summer came round once more. - -Doris's marriage was to take place in August, and, a few weeks before -the Sahib came to England to claim her, she went to London to visit -Mona, and to order her outfit. - -"I am just choosing my own things in my few spare hours," Mona said, -the day after her friend's arrival, "so we can go shopping together." - -They were sitting at afternoon tea, and Lucy had run in to borrow a -book. - -"You don't mean to say," Doris said, in great surprise, "that you are -having a trousseau? When one is going to India, of course one -requires things; but at home--it is a barbarous idea." - -"Dear Doris," Mona said, "what do you suppose I am marrying for?" - -"Miss Colquhoun does not understand," said Lucy. "A _Trousseau_ is a -thing no medical practitioner can be without. See, there it stands -in five goodly volumes on the second shelf,--particularly valuable on -the subject of epilepsy." - -"Lucy, do talk sense," said Mona, laughing. - -"I appeal to any unbiassed listener to say whether I am not the only -person present who is talking sense. But seriously, Miss Colquhoun, -I wish I had a rich and adoring uncle. To have a trousseau like -Mona's I would marry the devil!" - -She set down her cup and ran away, before either of them could enter -a protest. - -"Will she ever really be a doctor?" Doris asked doubtfully. - -"Oh yes, indeed. Your presence seems to rouse a spirit of mischief -within her, but you have no idea how she has developed. She will -make a much better doctor than I shall. She would have been on the -Register now but for her illness; as it is, she goes in with Ralph -and me in October." - -"Are you going to get another medal?" - -"No, no," Mona said gravely. "I only aim at a pass, and I think I am -pretty sure of that. There are fewer pitfalls than there were in the -Intermediate for my mighty scientific mind. But we can talk of that -another time. I want to hear about some one else now. Does your -father really consent to your going to India?" - -"Dear old Dad!" said Doris, smiling. "He is coming with us. He has -not had a long holiday for years, and everybody goes to India -now-a-days. When he comes back, I expect one of my aunts will keep -house for him." - -"He will miss you sadly; but I am very glad the Fates are smiling so -brightly on the dear old Sahib." - -Doris's face flushed. "Do you know, Mona," she said, "it is a dream -of mine that I may be of some use in India. Knowing you so well, I -shall be a sort of link between the cause here and the cause there; -and I may be able in a small way to bring the supply into relation -with the demand. If only I were going out as a qualified -practitioner!" - -"Oh, Doris, Doris! don't you see that an enthusiast who has no -connection with the movement, and who happens to be the wife of the -Deputy-Commissioner, will be able to do far more than an average -doctor?" - -"Especially when the Deputy-Commissioner is as much of an enthusiast -as his wife," Doris answered with a very pretty blush. - -"And I think it is worth living for to be able to show that a woman -can be an enthusiast and a reformer, and at the same time a help meet -for her husband." - -Mona watched her friend rather anxiously as she said this, but Doris -answered quite simply, "How often I shall long for you to talk to! -The Sahib, as you call him, says that most of the women he meets out -there have gone off on a wrong line, and want a little judicious -backing before one can safely preach advancement to them; but it -seems to me that the great majority of women only need to have things -put before them in their true light. Don't you think so?" - -"I don't know, dear," Mona said thoughtfully. "I am afraid I never -try to influence my sex. I live a frightfully irresponsible life. -Let me give you another cup of tea?" - -"No, thank you. I shall have to drink a cup with my aunt, if I go to -pay my respects to her. In fact, I ought to be there now." - -She hurried away, and Mona was left alone. She did not rise from her -chair, and half an hour later she was roused from a deep reverie by a -well-known knock at the door. - -"Come in!" she cried. "Oh Ralph, how delightful! Let me make you -some fresh tea." - -"No, thank you, my queen. It was my day out, and I could not settle -to work till I had had a glimpse of you." - -"I don't need to confess that I have been doing nothing," she said, -holding out her empty hands. "The fact is, I am horribly depressed." - -"Having a reaction?" - -"I should think I was--a prussian-blue reaction, as Lucy would say." - -"Examination fever?" - -"Far worse than that. You see, dear, it's a great responsibility to -become a registered practitioner, and it's a great responsibility to -be married; and the thought of undertaking the two responsibilities -at once is simply appalling." - -"But we are going away for a good holiday in the first instance; and -even when we come back, brilliant as we both are, I don't suppose we -shall burst into busy practice all at once." - -"I am not afraid of feeling pulses and taking temperatures," said -Mona gravely, "nor even of putting your slippers to the fire. The -thought that appals me is, that one must hold one's self up and look -wise, and have an opinion about everything. No more glorious -Bohemian irresponsibility: no more airy--'Bother women's rights!' -One must have a hand to show, and show it. Ralph, do sit down!--No, -on the other side of the fire--and let us discuss the Franchise." - -"With all my heart. Shall we toss for sides?" - -"If you like. I went once to a Women's Suffrage conversazione, -and--well, I left without signing a petition. But the next day I -heard two young women discussing it, chin in air. - -"'I am interested in no cause,' said one, 'that excludes the half of -humanity.' - -"'As long as I live,' said the other, 'I prefer that men should open -the door for me when I leave a room, or shut the window when I feel a -draught.' - -"I said nothing, but I put on my hat and set out to sign the -petition." - -"And did you do it?" - -"Sagely asked! No, I did not. I reflected that I had a student's -inherent right to be undecided; but that suit is played out now. -Seriously, dear, it seems to me sometimes in my ignorance as if we -women had gone half-way across a yawning chasm on a slender bridge. -The farther shore, as we see it now, is not all that our fancy -pictured; but it still seems on the whole more attractive than the -one we have left behind. _Que faire?_ We know that in life there is -no going back; nor can we stand on the bridge for ever. I could not -even advise, if I were asked. My attitude of mind on the subject -would be best represented by one great point of interrogation. Only -the future can show how the woman question is going to turn out, and -in the meantime the making of the future lies in our own hands. -There is a situation for you!" - -She had opened the subject half in jest, but now her face wore the -expression of intense earnestness, which in Dudley's eyes was one of -her greatest charms. It interested him profoundly to watch the -workings of her mind, and to see her opinions in the making. Perhaps -it interested him the more, because it was the only form of intimacy -she allowed. - -"You must bear in mind," he said, "that every cause has to go through -its hobbledehoy stage. The vocal cords give out dissonant sounds -enough, when they are in the act of lengthening out to make broader -vibrations; but we would not on that account have men speak all their -lives in the shrill treble of boyhood." - -"True," said Mona, "true;" and she smiled across at him. - -Presently she sighed, and clasped her hands behind her head. "It -must be a grand thing to lead a forlorn hope, Ralph," she said. "It -must be so easy to say, 'Here I stand,' if one feels indeed that one -cannot do otherwise. It would be a terrible thing for the leaders of -any movement to lose faith in the middle of the bridge, and, if we -cannot strengthen their hands, we are bound at least not to weaken -them. A negative office, no doubt, and more liable than any -partisanship to persecution; but, fortunately, here as everywhere, -there is the duty next to hand. If we try to make the girls over -whom we have any influence stronger and sweeter and sounder, we -cannot at least be retarding the cause of women." - -"Scarcely," said Ralph with a peculiar smile. "So, to return to the -point we started from, we are not called upon to show our hand, after -all." - -Mona laughed. "In other words, don't let us take stock of our -conclusions, Ralph," she said, "for that is intellectual death." - - - - -CHAPTER LXII. - -IN ARCADIA. - -It was a December afternoon. The sun shone down from a cloudless sky -on the olive-woods of Bordighera, and Ralph lay stretched on a mossy -terrace, looking up at the foliage overhead. It filled him with keen -delight, that wonderful green canopy, shading here, as it did, into -softest grey, glowing there into gold, or sparkling into diamonds. -The air was soft and fragrant, and, away beyond the little town, he -felt, though he could not see, the blue stretch of the Mediterranean. -It seemed to him as though the stormy river of his life had merged -into an ocean of infinite content. For the moment, ambition and -struggle were dead within him, and he looked neither behind nor -before. - -The crackling of a dry twig made him turn round. - -"Come along, sweetheart," he said; "I have been lazily listening for -your step for the last half-hour." - -"Then you began to listen far too soon," she said, seating herself -beside him, and putting her hand in his. "But I am a few minutes -late. The post came in just as I was starting." - -"No letters, I hope?" - -"Two for me--from Doris and Auntie Bell. I suppose you don't care to -read them?" - -He shook his head. "Not if you will boil them down for me." - -"They had a delightful passage, and seem to be as happy as two human -beings can be." - -"Nay, that we know is impossible." - -"Well, _nearly_ as happy, let us say. Doris found my letter awaiting -her at Bombay,--not the one that told of your 'Double First'; but she -was delighted to hear that we had all passed. She did not in the -least believe that Lucy would." - -"Trust Miss Reynolds not to fail! One would as soon expect her to do -brilliantly." - -"Doris says I am not to forget to tell her whether Maggie's soups and -sauces satisfy my lord and master." - -He laughed. "I seem to recognise Miss Colquhoun in that last -expression. What does Auntie Bell say?" - -"She would dearly like to come and visit us in London; but her -husband seems to be breaking up, and she has everything to -superintend on the farm; so she 'maun e'en pit her mind past it, in -the meantime.' You will be interested to hear that Matilda Cookson -has carried her point. She goes up for her Preliminary Examination -in July; and, if she passes, she is to join the Edinburgh School in -October." - -"You are a wonderful woman." - -"Oh, by the way, Ralph, they are having an impromptu dance at the -hotel to-night." - -His face clouded. "Do you like dancing?" he asked. - -"Very much indeed. Why don't you claim me for the first waltz?" - -"Because I can't dance a little bit. You would lose every atom of -respect you have for the creature, if you saw him being 'led through -a quadrille,' as they call it." - -"Would I? _Try me!_" - -What a wonderful face it was, when she let it say all that it would! -Ralph took it very tenderly between his hands, and greedily drank in -its love and loyalty. Then he turned away. How he loathed the -thought of this dance! There were one or two men in the house whom -Mona had met repeatedly in London, and the thought of her dancing -with them gave him positive torture. - -"Come, friend!" he said to himself roughly. "We are not going to -enact the part of the jealous husband at this time of day;" but when -he entered the salon that evening, some time after the dance had -begun, and morbidly noted the impression made by Mona's appearance -there, he would gladly have given two years of his life to be able to -waltz. - -Of course he must look as if he enjoyed it, so he moved away, and -spoke to an acquaintance; but above all the chatter, above the noise -of the music, he could hear the words-- - -"May I have the honour of this waltz, Mrs Dudley?" - -Very clearly, too, came Mona's reply. - -"Thank you very much, but I only waltz with my husband. May I -introduce you to Miss Rogers?" - -A few minutes later Dudley turned to where his wife was sitting near -the door,--his eyes dim with the expression a man's face wears when -he is absolutely at the mercy of a woman. He could not bear the -publicity of the ball-room, and he held out his arm to her without a -word. Mona took it in silence. He wrapped a fleecy white shawl -about her, and they walked out into the cool, quiet starlight. - -"You do like this better than that heat and glare and noise?" he -asked eagerly. - -"That depends on my company. I would rather be there with you than -here alone." - -"Mona, is it really true,--what you said to that man?" - -"That I only waltz with my husband? Oh, you silly old boy! Do you -really think any other man has put his arm round me since you put -yours that night in the dog-cart? Did not you know that you were -teaching me what it all meant?" - -He put it round her now, roughly, passionately. His next words were -laughable, as words spoken in the intensity of feeling so often are. - -"Sweetheart," he said, "I am so sorry I cannot dance. I will try to -learn when we go back to town." - -Mona laughed softly, and raised his hand to her lips. - -"That is as you please," she said. "Personally I think your wife is -getting too old for that kind of frivolity. Of course she is glad of -any excuse for having your arm round her." - -"It is a taste that is likely to be abundantly gratified," he said -quietly. "Are you cold? Shall we go back to the hotel?" - -"Yes, let us go to our own quiet sitting-room. And, please, be quite -sure, Ralph, that I don't care for dancing one bit. I used to, when -I was a girl, and I did think I should love to have a waltz with you: -but, as you say, this is a thousand times better." - -They walked back to the house in silence. - -"Oh, Mona, my very own love," he said, throwing a great knot of -olive-wood on to the blazing fire, "what muddlers those women are who -_obey_ their husbands!" - -Mona did not answer immediately. She seated herself on the white rug -at his feet, and took his hands in hers. - -"Obedience comes very easy when one loves," she said at -last,--"dangerously easy. I never realised it before. But passion -dies, they tell us, and the tradition of obedience lives and chafes; -and then the flood-gates of all the miseries are opened. Don't ever -let me obey you, Ralph!" - -"My queen!" he said. "Do you think I would blot out all the -exquisite nuances of your tact and intuition with a flat, level wash -of brute obedience? God help me! I am not such a blind bungler as -that. Don't talk of passion dying, Mona. I don't know what it is I -feel for you. I think it is every beautiful feeling of which my soul -is capable. It cannot die." - -"Ralph," said Mona, "man of the world, do I need to tell you that we -must not treat our love in spendthrift fashion, like a mere boy and -girl? Love is a weed. It springs up in our gardens of its own -accord. We trample on it; but it flourishes all the more. We cut it -down, mangle it, root it up; but it seems to be immortal. Nothing -can kill it. Then at last we say, 'You are no weed; you are -beautiful. Grow there, and my soul shall delight in you.' But from -that hour the plant must be left to grow at random no more. If it -is, it will slowly and gradually droop and wither. We must tend it, -water it, guard with the utmost care its exquisite bloom; and -then----" - -"And then?" - -"And then it will attain the perfectness and the proportions that -were only suggested in the weed, and it will live for ever and ever." - -"Amen!" said Ralph fervently. "Mona, how is it you know so much? -Who taught you all this about love?" - -She smiled. "I had some time to think about it after that night at -Barntoun Wood. And I think my friends have very often made me their -confidante. It is so easy to see where other people fail!" - - - - -CHAPTER LXIII. - -"VARIUM ET MUTABILE." - -"You escaped us last night, Mrs Dudley," said one of her -acquaintances next morning. - -"Yes. I wanted to watch the dancing; but the salon gets so warm in -the evening, I could not stand it. We went for a stroll instead." - -"Neither of you gives us too much of your company, certainly. I am -anxious to hear your husband's opinion of a leader in this morning's -_Times_." - -"Here he comes, then," said Mona, as Ralph appeared with a rug over -his arm. "Captain Bruce wants to speak to you, dear. You will know -where to find me by-and-bye." - -She strolled on into the woods, and ensconced herself comfortably on -a gnarled old trunk, to wait for her husband. It was not many -minutes before he joined her. - -"That's right!" he said, throwing himself on the grass at her feet, -with a long sigh of content. "How you spoil one, dear, for other -people's conversation!" - -"I have not had a very alarming competitor this morning," she said, -smiling. - -"No; but if he had been an archangel, it would have made little -difference. Go on, lady mine, talk to me--talk to me 'at lairge.' I -want to hear your views about everything. Is not it delightful that -we know each other so little?" - -Mona laughed softly and then grew very grave. - -"I hope you will say twenty years hence, 'How delightful it is that -we know each other so well!'" - -"I will say it now with all my heart! But it is very interesting to -live when every little event of life, every picture one sees, every -book one reads, has all the excitement of a lottery, till I hear your -opinion of it." - -Mona passed her hand through his hair. "Then I hope you will still -say twenty years hence, 'How delightful it is that we know each other -so little!'" - -"I think there is little doubt of that. My conception of you is like -a Gothic cathedral: its very beauty lies in the fact that one is -always adding to it, but it is never finished. Or, shall I say of -you what Kuenen says of Christianity?--'She is the most mutable of -all things; that is her special glory.'" - -"_Varium et mutabile_ in fact! It is a pretty compliment, but I seem -to have heard it before." - -"_Varium et mutabile semper femina,_" he repeated, smiling. - -"A higher compliment was never paid to your sex. _Varium et -mutabile_--like the sea! I never know whom I shall find when I meet -you,--the high-souled philosopher, the earnest student, the brilliant -woman of the world, the tender mother-soul, the frivolous girl, or -the lovable child. I don't know which of them charms me most. And -when I want something more than any of those, before I have time to -call her, there she is,--my wife, 'strong and tender and true as -steel.'" - -Mona did not answer. Her turn would come another time. They knew -each other too well to barter compliments like goods and coin across -a counter. - -"I thought you were going to talk to me," he said presently. "Let us -talk about the things that can never be put into words. Imagine I am -Gretchen, sitting at your feet. '_Glaubat du an Gott?_'" - -Mona smiled down on the upturned face. - -"If Gretchen asked me, I hope the Good Spirit would give me words. -If my husband asked me----" - -"He does. '_Glaubst du an Gott?_'" - -Mona did not answer at once. She looked round at the silent eloquent -world of olive-trees, with their grand writhing Laocoon-like stems, -and their constant, ever-varying crown of leaves--those trees that -seem to have watched the whole history of man, and that sum up in -themselves all the mystery of his life, from the love of pleasure in -the midst of pain, to the worship of sorrow in a world of beauty---- - -"Ralph," she said, "when you ask me I cannot tell; but I worship Him -every moment of my life!" - -She smiled. "You have surprised me out of my creed, and you see it -is not a creed at all." - -"Be thankful for that! It seems to me that the intensest moment in -the life of a belief is when it is just on the eve of crystallising -into a creed. Don't hurry it." - -"No, I am content to wait. When I go to church, I always feel -inclined to invert the words of the prayer, and say, 'Granting us in -this world life everlasting, and, in the world to come, knowledge of -Thy truth.'" - - - - -CHAPTER LXIV. - -PARTNERS. - -December still, but what a change! Without--bitter cold and driving -rain; within--bright fires and welcoming faces and a home. - -They had returned from the Continent a few hours before, had tested -Maggie's "soups and sauces," had discussed ways and means by the fire -in Mona's consulting-room; and now Ralph had gone through the -curtained door into his own room adjoining, to look at his letters. - -"I shall only be gone ten minutes," he had said, "if you invite me -back. Nobody is likely to call on a night like this, even in -'blessed Bloomsbury.'" - -Sir Douglas had begged them to settle in Harley Street, but both -Ralph and Mona were far too enthusiastic to forego the early days of -night-work, and of practice among the poor. - -Ralph had scarcely finished reading his first letter when a patient -was announced, and a moment later a young girl entered the room with -a shrinking, uncertain step. Her hair was wet with the rain, and her -white face expressionless, save for its misery. - -"Do you wish to consult me?" he said. "Sit down. What can I do for -you?" - -She looked at him for a moment, and tried to speak, but her full lips -quivered, and she burst into hysterical tears. - -His practised eye ran over her figure half unconsciously. - -"I think," he said kindly, "you would rather see the doctor who -shares my practice," and he rose, and opened the door. - -Mona looked up smiling. - -She was sitting alone in the firelight, and his heart glowed within -him as he contrasted her bright, strong, womanly face with--that -other. - -"Mona, dear," he said quietly, "here is a case for _you_." - - - -PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS. - - - - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MONA MACLEAN *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Mona Maclean</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em;'>Medical Student--A Novel</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Graham Travers</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: April 11, 2022 [eBook #67798]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Al Haines</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MONA MACLEAN ***</div> - -<h1> -<br /><br /> - MONA MACLEAN<br /> -</h1> - -<p class="t2"> - MEDICAL STUDENT<br /> -</p> - -<p class="t3b"> - <i>A NOVEL</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> - BY<br /> -</p> - -<p class="t2"> - GRAHAM TRAVERS<br /> -</p> - -<p class="t3"> - (MARGARET TODD, M.D.)<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t4"> - FIFTEENTH AND CHEAPER EDITION<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> - WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS<br /> - EDINBURGH AND LONDON<br /> - MDCCCC<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="t4"> - <i>All Rights reserved</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> -<i>BY THE SAME AUTHOR.</i> -</p> - -<p class="t3"> -WINDYHAUGH. Fourth Edition. Crown 8vo, 6s. -</p> - -<p class="t3"> -FELLOW TRAVELLERS. Fourth Edition. Crown 8vo, 6s. -</p> - -<p class="t3"> -WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS, -<br /> -EDINBURGH AND LONDON. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> - CONTENTS.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> - CHAP.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> - I. <a href="#chap01">IN THE GARDEN</a><br /> - II. <a href="#chap02">THE LISTS</a><br /> - III. <a href="#chap03">"ADOLESCENT INSANITY"</a><br /> - IV. <a href="#chap04">SIR DOUGLAS</a><br /> - V. <a href="#chap05">"AN AGATE KNIFE-EDGE"</a><br /> - VI. <a href="#chap06">THE NÆRODAL</a><br /> - VII. <a href="#chap07">A SON OF ANAK</a><br /> - VIII. <a href="#chap08">BONS CAMARADES</a><br /> - IX. <a href="#chap09">DORIS</a><br /> - X. <a href="#chap10">BORROWNESS</a><br /> - XI. <a href="#chap11">THE SHOP</a><br /> - XII. <a href="#chap12">CASTLE MACLEAN</a><br /> - XIII. <a href="#chap13">THE CHAPEL</a><br /> - XIV. <a href="#chap14">REACTION</a><br /> - XV. <a href="#chap15">THE BOTANISTS</a><br /> - XVI. <a href="#chap16">"JOHN HOGG'S MACHINE"</a><br /> - XVII. <a href="#chap17">AUNTIE BELL</a><br /> - XVIII. <a href="#chap18">A SILHOUETTE</a><br /> - XIX. <a href="#chap19">"LEAVES OF GRASS"</a><br /> - XX. <a href="#chap20">ST RULES</a><br /> - XXI. <a href="#chap21">THE FLYING SCOTCHMAN</a><br /> - XXII. <a href="#chap22">DR ALICE BATESON</a><br /> - XXIII. <a href="#chap23">A RENCONTRE</a><br /> - XXIV. <a href="#chap24">A CLINICAL REPORT</a><br /> - XXV. <a href="#chap25">A VOICE IN THE FOG</a><br /> - XXVI. <a href="#chap26">A CHAT BY THE FIRE</a><br /> - XXVII. <a href="#chap27">A NEOPHYTE</a><br /> - XXVIII. <a href="#chap28">THE COLONEL'S YARN</a><br /> - XXIX. <a href="#chap29">"YONDER SHINING LIGHT"</a><br /> - XXX. <a href="#chap30">MR STUART'S TROUBLES</a><br /> - XXXI. <a href="#chap31">STRADIVARIUS</a><br /> - XXXII. <a href="#chap32">CHUMS</a><br /> - XXXIII. <a href="#chap33">CARBOLIC!</a><br /> - XXXIV. <a href="#chap34">PALM-TREES AND PINES</a><br /> - XXXV. <a href="#chap35">WEEPING AND LAUGHTER</a><br /> - XXXVI. <a href="#chap36">NORTHERN MISTS</a><br /> - XXXVII. <a href="#chap37">THE ALGÆ AND FUNGI</a><br /> - XXXVIII. <a href="#chap38">THE BAZAAR</a><br /> - XXXIX. <a href="#chap39">THE BALL</a><br /> - XL. <a href="#chap40">A LOCUM TENENS</a><br /> - XLI. <a href="#chap41">A SINGED BUTTERFLY</a><br /> - XLII. <a href="#chap42">QUESTIONINGS</a><br /> - XLIII. <a href="#chap43">"MITHER!"</a><br /> - XLIV. <a href="#chap44">A CRIMSON STREAK</a><br /> - XLV. <a href="#chap45">AN UNBELIEVER</a><br /> - XLVI. <a href="#chap46">FAREWELL TO BORROWNESS</a><br /> - XLVII. <a href="#chap47">THE DISSECTING-ROOM</a><br /> - XLVIII. <a href="#chap48">CONFIDENCES</a><br /> - XLIX. <a href="#chap49">THE INTERMEDIATE</a><br /> - L. <a href="#chap50">SUCCESS OR FAILURE?</a><br /> - LI. <a href="#chap51">ANOTHER CHAT BY THE FIRE</a><br /> - LII. <a href="#chap52">OLD FRIENDS</a><br /> - LIII. <a href="#chap53">WAITING</a><br /> - LIV. <a href="#chap54">PRESENTATION DAY</a><br /> - LV. <a href="#chap55">LUCY TO THE RESCUE</a><br /> - LVI. <a href="#chap56">A LOST CHANCE</a><br /> - LVII. <a href="#chap57">HAVING IT OUT</a><br /> - LVIII. <a href="#chap58">"LOVE MAY GO HANG!"</a><br /> - LIX. <a href="#chap59">AT LAST!</a><br /> - LX. <a href="#chap60">ON THE RIVER</a><br /> - LXI. <a href="#chap61">A FIN-DE-SIECLE COURTSHIP</a><br /> - LXII. <a href="#chap62">IN ARCADIA</a><br /> - LXIII. <a href="#chap63">"VARIUM ET MUTABILE"</a><br /> - LXIV. <a href="#chap64">PARTNERS</a><br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap01"></a></p> - -<p class="t2b"> -MONA MACLEAN, -</p> - -<p class="t3b"> -MEDICAL STUDENT. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER I. -<br /><br /> -IN THE GARDEN. -</h3> - -<p> -"I wish I were dead!" -</p> - -<p> -"H'm. You look like it." -</p> - -<p> -There was no reply for a second or two. The first speaker -was carefully extricating herself from the hammock in which -she had been idly swinging under the shade of a -smoke-begrimed lime-tree. -</p> - -<p> -"No," she said at last, shaking out the folds of her dainty -blue gown, "I flatter myself that I do not look like it. I -have often told you, my dear Mona, that from the point of -view of success in practice, the art of dressing one's hair is -at least as important as the art of dissecting." -</p> - -<p> -She gave an adjusting touch to her dark-red curls and -drew herself to her full height, as though she were defying -the severest critic to say that she did not live up to her -principles. Presently her whole bearing collapsed, so to -speak, into abject despair, half real, half assumed. "But I -do wish I were dead, all the same," she said. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, I don't see why you should make me wish it too. -Why don't you go on with your book?" -</p> - -<p> -"Go on with it! I like that! I never began. I have -not turned a page for the last half-hour. That's all the -credit I get for my self-repression! What time is it?" -</p> - -<p> -"A quarter past twelve." -</p> - -<p> -"Is that all? And the lists won't be up till two. When -shall we start?" -</p> - -<p> -"About three, if we are wise—when the crush is over." -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you! I mean to be there when the clock strikes -two. There won't be any crush. It's not like the Matric; and -besides, every one has gone down. I am sure I wish I had! -A telegram 'strikes home,' but the slow torture of wading -through those lists——!" -</p> - -<p> -She broke off abruptly, and Mona returned to her book, -but before she had read half-a-dozen lines a parasol was -inserted between her eyes and the page. -</p> - -<p> -"It will be a treat, won't it?—wiring to the other students -that everybody has passed but me!" -</p> - -<p> -"Lucy, you are intolerable. Have you finished packing?" -</p> - -<p> -"Practically." -</p> - -<p> -"Do you mean to travel half the night in that gown?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not being a millionaire like you, I do not. You little -know the havoc this frock has to work yet. But I presume -you would not have me walk down to Burlington House in -my old serge?" -</p> - -<p> -"Why not? You say everybody is out of town." -</p> - -<p> -"Precisely. Therefore we, the exceptions, will be all the -more <i>en évidence</i>. <i>I</i> don't mean to be taken for an 'advanced -woman.' Some of the Barts. men will be there, and——" -</p> - -<p> -But Mona was not listening. She had risen from the -cushions on which she had been lounging, and was pacing -up and down the grass. -</p> - -<p> -"You know, Mona, you may say what you please, but you -are rather white about the gills yourself, and you have no -cause to be." -</p> - -<p> -Mona stopped and shot a level glance at her companion. -</p> - -<p> -"Why not?" she said. "Because I have been ploughed -once already, and so should be used to skinning like the -eels?" -</p> - -<p> -"Nonsense! How you contrived to fail once neither I -nor any one else can pretend to explain, but certain it is -that, with the best of will, you won't achieve the feat a -second time. You will be in the Honours list, of course." -</p> - -<p> -Mona shrugged her shoulders. "Possibly," she said -quietly, "if I pass. But the question is, shall I pass? -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'Oh the little more, and how much it is!<br /> - And the little less, and what worlds away!'"<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -They were walking up and down together now. -</p> - -<p> -"And even if you don't—it will be a disgrace to the -examiners, of course, and a frightful fag, but beyond that I -don't see that it matters. There is no one to care." -</p> - -<p> -Mona's cheek flushed. She raised her eyebrows, and -turned her head very slowly towards her companion, with -a glance of enquiry. -</p> - -<p> -"I mean," Lucy said hastily, "you are—that is to say, -you are not a country clergyman's daughter like me. If I -fail, it will be the talk of the parish. The grocer will -condole with me over the counter, the postman will carry the -news on his rounds, and the farmers will hear all about it -when they come in to market next Wednesday. It will be -awfully hard on the Pater; he——" -</p> - -<p> -"From what I know of him, I think he will be able to -hold up his head in spite of it." -</p> - -<p> -They both laughed. -</p> - -<p> -"By the way, that reminds me"—and Lucy produced a -letter from her pocket—"he is awfully anxious that you -should come to us for a few weeks this vacation. You have -no idea what a conquest you have made in that quarter. -In fact I have been shining with reflected lustre ever since he -met you. He thinks there must be something in me after -all, since I have had the sense to appreciate you." -</p> - -<p> -"I wonder wherein the attraction between us lies," Mona -said reflectively. "I suppose I am really less grave than I -appear, and you on the whole are less of a flibbertigibbet -than the world takes you to be. So we meet on something -of a common ground. I see in you a side of my nature -which in the ordinary course of events I don't find it easy to -express, and possibly you see something of the same sort in -me. Each of us relieves the other of the necessity——" -</p> - -<p> -"Don't prose, please!" interrupted Lucy. "I never yet -found the smallest difficulty in expressing myself, and—the -saints be praised!—you are not always quite so dull as you -are to-day. I suppose you won't come? What are -tennis-parties and picnics to a Wandering Jew like you?" -</p> - -<p> -"It is awfully kind of your father. I can't tell you how -much I appreciate his goodness; but I am afraid I can't -come." -</p> - -<p> -"I thought so. Is it the North Pole or the wilds of -Arabia this time?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona laughed. "To tell the truth," she said, "I must -have a day with my accounts and my bank-book before I stir -from Grower Street." -</p> - -<p> -"What! <i>you</i>, Crœsus?" -</p> - -<p> -"The reproach is deserved, whether you meant it for one -or not. I have been spending too much. What with extra -laboratory work in winter, and coaching last term——" -</p> - -<p> -"And all those pretty dresses." -</p> - -<p> -"And all those pretty dresses," repeated Mona, with the -air of one who is making a deliberate confession. -</p> - -<p> -"And nice damp uncut volumes." -</p> - -<p> -"Not too many of those," with a defiant little nod of -self-defence. -</p> - -<p> -"And divers charities." -</p> - -<p> -"Nay, alas! My bank-book has not suffered much from them." -</p> - -<p> -"And concert tickets, and gloves for impecunious friends, -not to say a couple of excellent stalls from time to time——" -</p> - -<p> -"Nonsense, Lucy! Considering how hard we have worked, -I don't think you and I have been at all extravagant in our -amusements. No, no, I ought to be able to afford all that. -My father left me four hundred a year, more or less." -</p> - -<p> -"Good heavens!" If Mona had added a cipher, the sum -could scarcely have impressed her companion more. -</p> - -<p> -"There! that is so like you schoolgirls——" -</p> - -<p> -"Schoolgirls, indeed!" -</p> - -<p> -"You have your allowance of thirty or forty pounds, and -you flatter yourselves that you dress on it, travel on it, -amuse yourselves on it, and surreptitiously feed on it. You -never notice the countless things that come to you from your -parents, as naturally as the air you breathe. You go with -your mother to her cupboards and store closets, or with your -father to town, and all the time you are absorbing money or -money's worth. Then you get into debt; there is a scene, -a few tears, and your father's hand goes into his pocket, and -you find yourself with your debts paid, and a pound or -two to the good. I know all about it. Your allowance is -the sheerest farce. Cut off all those chances and possibilities, -banish the very conception of elasticity from your mind, -before you judge of my income." -</p> - -<p> -Lucy's eyes had been fixed on the ground. She raised -them now, and said very slowly, with a trick of manner she -had caught from her friend,— -</p> - -<p> -"I don't think I ever heard such a one-sided statement in -my life." -</p> - -<p> -Mona laughed. "Every revolution and reformation the -world has seen has been the fruit of a one-sided statement." -</p> - -<p> -"I have already asked you not to prose. Besides, your -good seed has fallen on stony ground for once. Please don't -attempt to revolutionise or reform me!" -</p> - -<p> -"My dear, if you indulge in the pedantry of quotation -from ancient Jewish literature, pray show some familiarity -with the matter of it. Although, as you remind me, I am -not a country clergyman's daughter, you will allow me to -remind you that the seed on the stony ground did spring up." -</p> - -<p> -"Bother the seed on stony ground! You said your income -was four hundred a year." -</p> - -<p> -"More or less. This year it happens to be less, and I -have a strong suspicion that I am in shallow water. If, as -I fervently hope, my suspicion is incorrect, I mean to have -a fortnight's walking in Skye. In any case, I have promised -to spend a month on the east coast of Scotland with -a cousin of my father's." -</p> - -<p> -"I thought you had no cousins?" -</p> - -<p> -"No more I have—to call cousins. I never saw this one, -and I don't suppose I should ever have heard of her if she -had not written to borrow twenty pounds from me a few -years ago. She is quite comfortably off now, but she -cannot get over her gratitude. I don't suppose she is exactly -what you would call a lady. My grandfather was the -successful man of the family in his generation, and my father -was the same in the next; so it is my fault if cousin Rachel -and I have not 'gone off on different lines.'" -</p> - -<p> -"But why do you go to her?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know. It is an old promise—in fact, she wants -me to live with her altogether—and I am curious to see my -'ancestral towers.'" -</p> - -<p> -"And have you no other relatives?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona laughed. "My mother's sister has just come home -from India with her husband, but we are just as far apart -as when continents and oceans divided us. I don't think -my mother and she quite hit it off. Besides, I can imagine -her opinion of medical women, and I don't suppose she ever -heard of blessed Bloomsbury." -</p> - -<p> -"Wait a little," said Lucy. "When you are a famous -physician——" -</p> - -<p> -"I know—bowling along on C springs——" -</p> - -<p> -"Drawn by a pair of prancing, high-stepping greys——" -</p> - -<p> -"Leaning back on the luxurious cushions——" -</p> - -<p> -"Wrapt to the ears in priceless sables——" -</p> - -<p> -"My waiting-room crowded with patient Duchesses. Yes, -of course, she will be sorry then. I suppose she will have -an illness, some 'obscure internal lesion' which will puzzle -all the London doctors. As a last resource she will apply -to me. I wave my wand. Hey, presto! she is cured! But -you can't expect her to foresee all that. It would argue more -than average intelligence, and besides, it would spoil the -story." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap02"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER II. -<br /><br /> -THE LISTS. -</h3> - -<p> -There was no doubt about it. The lists were up. -</p> - -<p> -As the girls passed through the bar from Vigo Street, they -could see a little knot of men, silent and eager, gathered on -the steps in front of the notice-case. Those who had secured -a good position were leisurely entering sundry jottings in -their note-books; those behind were straining their eyes, -straining every muscle in their bodies, in the endeavour to -ascertain the one all-important fact. -</p> - -<p> -"I told you we should have waited," Mona said quietly, -striving to make the most of a somewhat limited stock of -breath. -</p> - -<p> -"If you tell me the name of the person you are interested -in, perhaps I can help you," said a tall man who was -standing beside them. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, thank you," Mona smiled pleasantly. "We can -wait. We—are interested in—in several people." -</p> - -<p> -He stood aside to let them pass in front of him, and in a -few minutes their turn came. -</p> - -<p> -"Second Division!" ejaculated Lucy, in mingled relief -and disgust, as she came to her own name. "Thank heaven -even for that! Just let me take a note of the others. Now -for the Honours list, and Mona Maclean!" -</p> - -<p> -The Honours list was all too short, and a few seconds were -sufficient to convince them—— -</p> - -<p> -"Oh!" burst involuntarily from Lucy's lips, as the truth -forced itself upon her. -</p> - -<p> -"Hush!" said Mona hastily, in a low voice. "It is all -right. Come along." -</p> - -<p> -She hurried Lucy down the steps, past the postoffice, and -into Regent Street. -</p> - -<p> -"You know, dear, there are those confounded telegrams to -be sent off," said Lucy deprecatingly. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, yes, I know. There is no hurry. Let me think." -</p> - -<p> -They strolled along in the bright sunshine, but Mona felt -as cold as lead. She did not believe that she had failed. -There must be some mistake. They had misspelt her name, -perhaps, or possibly omitted it by accident. They would -correct the mistake to-morrow. It could not be that she had -really failed again. After all, was she sure that her name -was not there? -</p> - -<p> -"Lucy," she said at last, "do you mind going back with -me to the University, and glancing over the lists again?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, do. We must have made a mistake. It is simply -ridiculous." -</p> - -<p> -But in her heart of hearts she knew that they had not -made a mistake. -</p> - -<p> -The little crowd had almost dispersed when they returned, -and there was nothing to prevent a quiet and thorough study -of the lists. -</p> - -<p> -"It is infamous," said Lucy, "simply infamous! Small -credit it is to me to have passed when that is all the -examiners know of their work!" -</p> - -<p> -"Nonsense! It's all right. You know I had my weak -subject. Come." -</p> - -<p> -"Will you wait here while I send off the telegrams?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, I will come with you." -</p> - -<p> -They passed out of the heat and glare into the dusty little -shop, and Mona leaned her elbow wearily on the counter. -She had begun to believe it now, but not to realise it in the -least. "How horribly I shall be suffering to-morrow!" she -thought, with a shiver of dread. -</p> - -<p> -"Weal and woe!" she said, smiling, as she read the -telegrams Lucy had scribbled. "Two women shall be grinding -at the mill; the one shall be taken and the other left." -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Don't</i>," said Lucy, with a little stamp of her foot. For -the moment she was suffering more than Mona. -</p> - -<p> -They walked home in silence to the house in Gower Street. -</p> - -<p> -"Come in to tea? No? Well, good-bye, dear. Take -care of yourself. My love and duty to your father and -mother. Write to me here." -</p> - -<p> -She nodded brightly, opened the door with her latch-key, -and entered the cool dark house. -</p> - -<p> -Very slowly she dragged herself up to her pretty sitting-room, -and shut the door. She winced as her eye fell on the -old familiar sights—Quain, and Foster, and Mitchell Bruce, -the Leitz under its glass shade, and the box of what she was -pleased to dub 'ivory toys.' Then her eye fell on her own -reflection in the draped mirror, and she walked straight up -to the white, strong, sensitive face. -</p> - -<p> -"Who cares?" she said defiantly. "Not you nor I! -What does it matter? <i>Ay de mi</i>! What does anything -mean? What is success or failure after all?" -</p> - -<p> -From which soliloquy you will be able to form a pretty -definite idea of my heroine's age. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap03"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER III. -<br /><br /> -"ADOLESCENT INSANITY." -</h3> - -<p> -"Rather than go through all that strain again," said Mona -the next morning, "I would throw up the whole thing and -emigrate." -</p> - -<p> -She was leaning back on the pillows, her hair all tumbled -into curls after a restless night, her hands playing absently -with the lace on her morning wrapper. "Why doesn't the -coffee come?" -</p> - -<p> -As she spoke, the maid came in with a tempting little tray. -Mona was a lodger worth having. -</p> - -<p> -"You look ill, miss," said the girl. -</p> - -<p> -"No. Only a headache. I am not going out this -morning. Bring the hot water in half an hour." -</p> - -<p> -"What do people do when they emigrate?" she went on. -when the maid had gone. "They start off with tin pots and -pans, but what do they do when they arrive? I wonder -what sort of farmer I should make? There must be plenty -of good old yeoman blood in my veins. 'Two men I honour -and no third'—but the feminine of digging and delving, I -suppose, is baking and mending. Heigh-ho! this can -scarcely be checkmate at my time of life, but it looks -uncommonly like it." -</p> - -<p> -An hour later she was deep in her accounts; the table -before her littered with manuscript books and disjointed -scraps of addition and subtraction. The furrow on her brow -gradually deepened. -</p> - -<p> -"Shallow water!" she said at last, very slowly, raising -her head and folding her arms as she spoke; "shallow water -was a euphemism. It seems to me, my dear Lucy, that your -friend is on the rocks." -</p> - -<p> -She sat for a long time in silence, and then ran her eye -quickly over a pile of unanswered letters. She extracted -one, leaned back in her chair, and looked at the envelope -critically. -</p> - -<p> -"Not strictly what one would call a gentlewoman's letter," -she said; "in fact, a sneering outsider might be tempted to -use the word illiterate. Well, what then?" -</p> - -<p> -She took out the enclosure and read it through very -carefully. She had tossed it aside thoughtlessly enough -when it had found her, a fortnight before, in all the -excitement of the examination; but now the utterances of -the Delphic oracle could not have been studied with closer -attention. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -"MY DEAR COUSIN,—Yours safely to hand this morning, -and very glad I was to get it. I am afraid you will find -us dull company here after London, but we will do our -best." -</p> - -<p> -("H'm," said Mona. "That means tea-parties—cookies -and shortbread—a flower-show or two in the grounds of -the Towers, no doubt,—possibly even a <i>soirée</i> in the chapel. -Wild excitement!") -</p> - -<p> -"Nobody here knows anything about your meaning to -be a doctor, and what we don't know does us no harm. -They would think it a queer kind of notion in these parts, -as you know I do myself, and keep hoping you will find -some nice gentleman——" -</p> - -<p> -("<i>Gentleman!</i>" groaned Mona.) -</p> - -<p> -"——who will put the idea out of your head. My niece, -who has been living with me for years, has just sailed for -America to be married. You are almost the only friend -I have now in the country, and I wish you could see your -way to staying with me till you get married yourself. It -would do no harm to save your own money a bit; your -company would be gain enough to me. I must look out -for some one at once, and it would make a great difference -in my life to have you. Blood's thicker than water, you -know." -</p> - -<p> -("That I don't," said Mona. "My dear woman, any -chance advertiser in to-day's paper would probably suit -you better than I. It is as bad as adopting a foundling.") -</p> - -<p> -"Write me a line when to expect you. -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> - "Your affectionate cousin,<br /> - "RACHEL SIMPSON."<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Mona folded the letter thoughtfully, and returned it to -its envelope. Then she rose from her writing-table, threw -herself into a rocking-chair, and clasped her hands behind -her head. -</p> - -<p> -Many a perplexing problem had been solved to the -rhythm of that pleasant motion, but to-day the physical -exercise was insufficient. She got up impatiently and -paced the room. From time to time she stopped at the -window, and gazed half absently at the luggage-laden -hansoms hurrying to and from the stations. -</p> - -<p> -"Shooting, and fishing, and sketching, and climbing," -she thought to herself. "Why am I so out of it all? If -there was a corner of the earth to which I really cared -to go, I would undertake to raise the money, but there -is not a wish in my heart. I scarcely even wish I had -passed my examination." -</p> - -<p> -She returned at last to the writing-table, took pen and -paper, and wrote hastily without stopping to think. She -was in the mood in which people rush at decisions which -may make or mar a life. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -"MY DEAR COUSIN RACHEL,—I was very busy and preoccupied -when your letter reached me, or it would have -been answered before now. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't wonder that you see no need for women doctors—living -as you do in a healthy country village, where I -suppose no one is ever ill unless from old age, a fever, or -a broken leg. Perhaps if you saw something of hospital -work here, you would think differently; but we can -discuss that question when we meet. Whether I personally -am qualified for the life I have chosen, is a quite separate -question. About that, no doubt, there might be two -unprejudiced opinions. I have not been very successful of -late, although I am convinced that I have done good work; -and I have been spending more money than I ought to have -done. For these reasons, and for others which it is not -so easy to put into words, I am anxious to escape for a -time from the noise and bustle and excitement of London. -I should like to be in some country place where I could -think, and read, and live quietly, and if possible be of -some little use to somebody. You are kind enough—not -knowing what an unamiable, self-centred person I am—to -offer me a home with you for an indefinite period; so, -if you really care to purchase 'a pig in a poke,' I will -come to you for six months. By the end of that time -you will have discovered most of my faults, and will have -found some one who would suit you a great deal better. -I will pay you whatever you consider the equivalent of -my board, and if I can be of use to you in any way I -shall be only too glad. -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> - "Believe me always<br /> - "Your affectionate cousin,<br /> - "MONA MACLEAN."<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Lunch was on the table before she had finished writing. -She lifted the cover and looked at the nicely cooked dish -with irrepressible disgust, then helped herself, and—fell -a-dreaming. -</p> - -<p> -"Mona, my dear, this will never do," she said, rousing -herself with an effort. "Checkmate or no checkmate, I can't -have you fading away like a lovely flower. What is the use -of this <i>Niersteiner</i> if it does not make you eat? <i>Hörst du -wohl</i>?" She made a heroic attempt if not a very successful -one, and then proceeded to read over critically the letter she -had just written. -</p> - -<p> -She shrugged her shoulders as she closed the envelope. -</p> - -<p> -"Adolescent insanity!" she exclaimed cynically. "Well, -why not? Some of us are adolescent, I suppose, and most -of us are insane." -</p> - -<p> -She put on her hat and strolled down towards Oxford -Street to post the letter. It suited her mood to drop it into -the letter-box with her own hands, and besides, she was -rarely so depressed as not to be amused by the shop-windows. -To-day, however, as she wandered aimlessly on, the gay shows -in Regent Street fell upon eyes that saw not. "If I had only -passed," she said, "how happy I should be!" -</p> - -<p> -She turned wearily homewards, and was met in the hall -by the maid. -</p> - -<p> -"If you please, miss, two ladies called while you were out. -They were in a carriage, and they left this card." -</p> - -<p> -Mona went up-stairs as she read it. -</p> - -<p> -"Lady Munro" was the name on the card; an address -in Gloucester Place, Portman Square, was scrawled in the -corner; and on the back in pencil— -</p> - -<p> -"So sorry to miss you. You must dine with us without -fail on Friday at eight. No refusal." -</p> - -<p> -A pleased smile crossed Mona's face. -</p> - -<p> -"She is spoiling the story," she said. Then the smile was -chased away by a frown. -</p> - -<p> -"If only the story had not spoiled itself!" -</p> - -<p> -And then she bethought herself of the letter she had posted. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap04"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER IV. -<br /><br /> -SIR DOUGLAS. -</h3> - -<p> -When Friday evening came, Mona took a curious pleasure -in making the very most of herself. -</p> - -<p> -She knew, as well as any outsider could have told her, that -her present depression and apathy were but the measure of -the passionate enthusiasm with which she had lived the life -of her choice; and yet it was inevitable that for the time she -should look at life wholly on the shadowed side. Past and -future seemed alike gloomy and forbidding—"<i>Grau, grau, -gleichgültig grau</i>"—and the eager, unconscious protest of -youth against such a destiny, took the form of a resolution to -enjoy to the utmost this glimpse of brightness and colour. -She would forget all but the present; new surroundings -should find her for the moment a new being. -</p> - -<p> -When she reached Gloucester Place, Lady Munro and her -daughter were alone in the drawing-room. -</p> - -<p> -Lady Munro was one of those people who make a marked -impress on their material surroundings. The rooms in which -she lived quickly became, as it were, a part of herself, which -her friends could not fail to recognise as such. -</p> - -<p> -Eastern rugs and draperies clothed the conventional -London sitting-room; luxuriant, tropical-looking plants were -grouped in corners, great sensuous roses lolled in Indian -bowls, and a few rich quaint lamps cast a mellow glow across -the twilight of the room. -</p> - -<p> -"Why, Mona, can it really be you?" Lady Munro rose -from her lounge, and kissed her niece affectionately on both -cheeks. For a moment Mona could scarcely find words. -She was keenly susceptible at all times to the beauty of -luxury, and the very atmosphere of this room called up with -irresistible force forgotten memories of childhood. The touch -of this gracious woman's lips, the sound of her voice, the soft -<i>frou-frou</i> of her gown, all gave Mona a sense of exquisite -physical pleasure. Lady Munro was not, strictly speaking, -a beautiful woman; but a subtle grace, a subtle fascination, -a subtle perfume were part of her very being. She was -worshipped by all the men who knew her, but the most cynical -of her husband's friends could not deny that she was no whit -less charming in her intercourse with her own sex than she -was with them. She was not brilliant; she was not fast; she -was simply herself. -</p> - -<p> -"This is my daughter Evelyn," she said; and she laid her -hand on a sweet, quiet, overgrown English schoolgirl—one -of those curious chrysalis beings whom a few months of -Anglo-Indian society transform from a child into a finished -woman of the world. -</p> - -<p> -"I expect my husband every moment. He is longing to -meet you." -</p> - -<p> -Evelyn slowly raised her blue eyes, looked quietly at her -mother for a moment, and let them fall again without the -smallest change of expression. In fact, Lady Munro's -remark was a graceful modification of the truth. Sir Douglas -Munro was nothing if not a man of the world. He knew the -points of a wine, and he knew the points of a horse; but -above all he flattered himself that he knew the points of a -woman. He had made a study of them all his life, and he -believed, perhaps rightly, that he could read them like an -open book. "Sweet seventeen" was at a cruel disadvantage -in his hands, if indeed he exerted himself to speak to her at -all. The genus <i>Medical Woman</i> was not as yet included in -his collection, but he had heard of it, and had classified it in -his own mind as a useful but uninteresting hybrid, which could -not strictly be called a woman at all. In the sense, therefore, -in which a lukewarm entomologist "longs to meet" -the rare but ugly beetle which he believes will complete his -cabinet, Sir Douglas Munro was "longing" to make the -acquaintance of Mona Maclean. -</p> - -<p> -The new beetle certainly took him by surprise when he -came in a minute later. -</p> - -<p> -"Mona!" he replied to his wife's introduction; "Mona -Maclean—the doctor?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona laughed as she rose, and took his proffered hand. -</p> - -<p> -"Far from it," she said. "In the vacation I try to forget -that I am even the makings of one." -</p> - -<p> -She looked almost handsome as she stood there in the -soft light of the room. Lady Munro forgot that her niece -was a medical student, and experienced a distinct sense of -pride and proprietorship. No ordinary <i>modiste</i>, she felt -sure, had arranged those folds of soft grey crape, and the -dash of glowing crimson geraniums on the shoulder was the -touch of an artist. -</p> - -<p> -"Mona is the image of her mother," she said. -</p> - -<p> -"Ye-e-s," said Sir Douglas, availing himself of his wife's -relationship to look at Mona very frankly. "She reminds -me a good deal of what you were at her age." -</p> - -<p> -"Nonsense!" said Mona hastily. "Remember I am not -used to flattery." -</p> - -<p> -"To receiving or to paying it?" -</p> - -<p> -"To neither;" and she turned a look of very honest and -almost childlike admiration on her aunt. -</p> - -<p> -Sir Douglas looked pleased, although he himself had long -ceased to pay his wife compliments. -</p> - -<p> -"There's a great deal of your father in your face, too," he -said. "You have got his mouth. Ah, he was a good fellow! -I could tell you many a story of our Indian life—a man in a -thousand!" -</p> - -<p> -"You could tell me nothing I should more dearly like to -hear," said Mona, with eager interest. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, well—some day, some day." -</p> - -<p> -A native servant announced dinner, and Sir Douglas gave -Mona his arm. -</p> - -<p> -"What! another scene from the 'Arabian Nights'?" she -said as they entered the dining-room. "It is clear that a -very wonderful genius presides over your household." -</p> - -<p> -"You are going to have an Indian dinner, too," said Lady -Munro. "Nubboo makes all the <i>entrées</i> and soups and -sauces. He is worth half-a-dozen English servants." -</p> - -<p> -Mona looked up at the dark bearded face under the -voluminous white turban, but she could not tell whether -Nubboo had heard the remark. All the philosophy of -Buddh might lie behind those sad impenetrable eyes, or he -might be thinking merely of the <i>entrées</i>; it was impossible -to say. If the whole occasion had not seemed to her, as she -said, a bit out of the 'Arabian Nights,' she would have -thought it sacrilege that a man with such a face should -be employed in so trivial an occupation as waiting at -table. -</p> - -<p> -"When I look at Nubboo I can almost believe myself a -baby again," she said. "He seems like a bit of my -dream-world." -</p> - -<p> -The feeblest ghost of a smile flitted across the man's face, -as he moved noiselessly from place to place. -</p> - -<p> -"It must be a dream-world," laughed her aunt. "You -cannot remember much of that!" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't;" and Mona sighed. -</p> - -<p> -Lady Munro and Mona kept the ball going between them -during dinner. Evelyn only spoke now and then, to tone -down one of her mother's most piquant and highly coloured -remarks; and she did this with a hidden sense of humour -which never rose to the surface in her face. Sir Douglas -spoke as much as courtesy absolutely demanded, but no -more. The new beetle was evidently perplexing him -profoundly. -</p> - -<p> -Lady Munro's feeling for her niece was one of mingled -pride, affection, disgust, and fear—disgust for the life-work -she had chosen, fear of her supposed "cleverness." Lady -Munro despised learned women, but she was not at all -willing that they should despise her. She exerted herself -to talk well, but even Mona's evident admiration could not -put her quite at her ease. -</p> - -<p> -"How is it we have seen so little of you, Mona?" she -said, when they had left Sir Douglas to his wine. "Where -were you when we were last at home?" -</p> - -<p> -"In Germany, I suppose. I went there for three years -after I left school." -</p> - -<p> -"To study music?" -</p> - -<p> -"Both music and painting in a small way." -</p> - -<p> -"You wonderful girl! Then you are a musician?" -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Gott bewahre!</i>" burst from Mona involuntarily. "My -musical friends thought me a Turner, and my artistic friends -thought me a Rubinstein; from which you may gather the -truth, that I had no real gift for either." -</p> - -<p> -"So you say! I expect you are an 'Admirable Crichton.'" -</p> - -<p> -"If that be a euphemism for 'Jack-of-all-trades and master -of none,' I suppose I am—alas!" -</p> - -<p> -"And does Homer never nod? Do you never amuse -yourself like other girls?" -</p> - -<p> -"I am afraid I must not allow you to call me a girl -I believe you have my grandmother's Family Bible. Yes, -indeed, Homer nods a great deal more than is consistent -with his lofty calling. I am an epicure in frivolling." -</p> - -<p> -"In what?" -</p> - -<p> -"Forgive my school slang! It means that I indulge quite -freely enough in concerts, theatres, and in -picture-galleries—not to say shop-windows." -</p> - -<p> -"You don't mean to say that <i>you</i> care for shop-windows?" -and again Lady Munro's glance rested with satisfaction on -Mona's pretty gown, although she was half afraid her niece -was laughing at her. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, don't I? You little know!" -</p> - -<p> -"Pictures, I suppose, and old china and furniture and that -sort of thing," said Lady Munro, treading cautiously. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I like all those, but I like pretty bonnets too, and -tea-gowns and laces and note-paper and—every kind of -arrant frivolity and bagatelle. But they must be pretty, -you know. I am not caught with absolute chaff." -</p> - -<p> -"You don't care about fashion, you mean." -</p> - -<p> -Mona drew down her brows in deep thought. Clearly she -was talking honestly. Then she shook her head with a light -laugh. -</p> - -<p> -"I am getting into deep water," she said. "I am afraid -I do care about fashion, fashion <i>quâ</i> fashion, fashion pure -and simple." -</p> - -<p> -"Not if it is ugly?" questioned Evelyn gravely. -</p> - -<p> -"Not if it is ugly, surely; but I question if it often is -ugly in the hands of the artists among dressmakers. It is -just as unfair to judge of a fashion as it issues from the -hands of a mere seamstress, as it is to judge of an air from -its rendering on a barrel-organ or a penny trumpet." -</p> - -<p> -Lady Munro laughed. "I shall tell my husband that," -she said. "Douglas"—as he entered the room—"you have -no idea of the heresies Mona has been confessing. She cares -as much about new gowns and bonnets as anybody." -</p> - -<p> -Sir Douglas looked at Mona very gravely. Either he had -not heard the remark, or he was striving to adapt it to his -mental sketch of her character. -</p> - -<p> -He seated himself on the sofa beside her, and turned -towards her as though he meant to exclude his wife and -daughter from the conversation. -</p> - -<p> -"Have you seriously taken up the study of medicine?" -he asked. -</p> - -<p> -"Now for it!" thought Mona. -</p> - -<p> -She took for granted that he was a decided enemy of the -"movement," and although at the moment she was in little -humour for the old battle, she was bound to be true to her -colours. So she donned her armour wearily. -</p> - -<p> -"I certainly have," she said quietly. -</p> - -<p> -"And you mean to practise?" -</p> - -<p> -"Assuredly." -</p> - -<p> -The examination and its concomitant sorrows were -forgotten. She answered the question as she would have -answered it at any time in the last three or four years. -</p> - -<p> -"Are you much interested in the work?" -</p> - -<p> -"Very much," she said warmly. -</p> - -<p> -"I am sure you need scarcely ask that," said Lady Munro, -with a kind smile. "One does not undertake that sort of -thing <i>pour s'amuser</i>!" -</p> - -<p> -"There are other motives," he said, looking severely at -his wife. "There is ambition." This was shrewdly said, -and Mona's respect for her opponent rose. A fit of -coughing had interrupted him. -</p> - -<p> -His wife looked at him anxiously. "I wish you would -prescribe for my husband," she said, smiling. -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Don't!</i>" ejaculated Sir Douglas fiercely, before the -cough gave him breath to speak. -</p> - -<p> -At this moment Nubboo announced a visitor, a cousin -of Sir Douglas', and the latter seemed glad of an -interruption which allowed him to have Mona entirely to -himself. -</p> - -<p> -He shook hands with the new-comer, and then, returning -to Mona's side, sat in silence for a few moments as if trying -to collect his thoughts. -</p> - -<p> -"The fact is," he broke out impulsively at last, "I am -torn asunder on this subject of women doctors—torn asunder. -There is a terrible necessity for them—terrible—and yet, -what a sacrifice!" -</p> - -<p> -Mona could scarcely believe her ears. This was very -different from the direct, brutal attack she had anticipated. -Instinctively she laid down her armour, and left herself at -his mercy. -</p> - -<p> -"I think you are unusually liberal to admit the necessity," -she said, but her sweet earnest face said much more for her -than her words. -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Liberal!</i>" he said. "What man can live and not -admit it? It makes me mad to think how a woman can -allow herself to be pulled about by a <i>man</i>. Fifty years -hence no woman will have the courage to own that it ever -happened to her. But the sacrifice is a fearful one. Picture -my allowing Evelyn to go through what you are going -through!" And his glance rested fondly on his daughter's -fair head. -</p> - -<p> -"I agree with you so far," said Mona, "that no woman -should undertake such work under the age of twenty-three." -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Twenty-three!</i>" he repeated. "It is bad for a <i>man</i>, but -a man has some virtues which remain untouched by it. A -woman loses everything that makes womanhood fair and -attractive. You <i>must</i> be becoming hard and blunted?" -</p> - -<p> -He looked at her as if demanding an answer. -</p> - -<p> -"I hope not," said Mona quietly, and her eyes met his. -</p> - -<p> -"You <i>hope</i> not!" He dashed back her words with all -the vehemence of an evangelical preacher who receives them -in answer to his all-important question. "You <i>hope</i> not! -Is that all you can say? You are not sure?" -</p> - -<p> -"It is difficult to judge of one's self," said Mona thoughtfully, -turning her face full to his piercing gaze; "and one's -own opinion would not be worth having. I believe I am not -becoming hardened. I am sure my friends would say I am -not." -</p> - -<p> -She felt as if he were reading her inmost soul, and for -the moment she was willing that he should. No other -argument would be of any weight in such a discussion as -this. -</p> - -<p> -He dropped his eyes, half ashamed of his vehemence. -"No need to tell me that," he said hurriedly. "I am used -to reading women's faces. I have been searching yours all -evening for the hard lines that must be there, but there -is not a trace that is not perfectly womanly. And yet I -cannot understand it! From the very nature of your work -you must revel in scenes of horror." -</p> - -<p> -"<i>That</i> I am sure we don't!" said Mona warmly. She -would have laughed if they had both been less in earnest. -"You don't say that of all the noble nurses who have had -to face scenes of horror." -</p> - -<p> -"But you must become blunted, if you are to be of any use." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't think blunted is the word. It is extremely true, -as some one says, that pity becomes transformed from an -emotion into a motive." -</p> - -<p> -He seemed to be weighing this. -</p> - -<p> -"You dissect?" he said presently. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"Think of that alone! It is human butchery." -</p> - -<p> -"Of course you must know that I do not look upon it in -that light." -</p> - -<p> -But a sense of hopelessness came upon her, as she realised -how she was handicapped in this discussion. She must -either be silent or speak in an unknown tongue. How -could she explain to this man the wonder and the beauty of -the work that he dismissed in a brutal phrase? How could -she talk of that ever-new field for observation, corroboration, -and discovery; that unlimited scope for the keen eye, the -skilful hand, the thinking brain, the mature judgment? -How could she describe those exquisite mechanisms and -traceries, those variations of a common type, developing -in accordance with fixed law, and yet with a perfectness of -adaptation that <i>a priori</i> would have seemed like an -impossible fairy tale? How cruelly she would be misunderstood -if she talked here of the passionate delight of discovery, -of the enthusiasm that had often made her forgetful -of time and of all other claims? "To be a true anatomist," -she thought with glowing face, "one would need to be a -mechanician and a scientist, an artist and a philosopher. -He who is not something of all these must be content to -learn his work as a trade." -</p> - -<p> -Sir Douglas was looking at her intently. As a medical -student she had got beyond his range. As a woman, for the -moment, she was beautiful. Such a light is only seen in -the eyes of those who can see the ideal in the actual. -</p> - -<p> -But he had not finished his study. He must bring her -down to earth again. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you remember your first day in the dissecting-room?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," said Mona. She sighed deeply, and the light -died out of her eyes. -</p> - -<p> -"A ghastly experience!" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"And yet you say you have not become blunted?" -</p> - -<p> -"I do not think," said Mona, trying hard with a woman's -instinct to avoid the least suspicion of dogmatism—"I do -not think that one becomes blunted when one ceases to look -at the garbage side of a subject. Every subject, I suppose, -<i>has</i> its garbage side, if one is on the look-out for it; and in -anatomy, unfortunately, that is the side that strikes one -first, and consequently the only one outsiders ever see. It -is difficult to discuss the question with one who is not a -doctor" ("nor a scientist," she added inwardly); "but -if you had pursued the study, I think you would see that -one must, in time, lose sight of all but the wonder and the -beauty of it." -</p> - -<p> -There was a long pause. -</p> - -<p> -"When you are qualified," he said at last, "you only -mean to attend your own sex?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, of course," said Mona earnestly. -</p> - -<p> -He seemed relieved. -</p> - -<p> -"That was why my wife made me angry by suggesting, -even in play, that you should prescribe for me. You women -are—with or without conscious sacrifice—wading through -seas of blood to right a terrible evil that has hitherto been -an inevitable one. If you deliberately and gratuitously -repeat that evil by extending your services to men, the -sacrifice has all been for nothing, and less than nothing." -</p> - -<p> -He spoke with his old vehemence, and then relapsed into -silence. -</p> - -<p> -His next remark sounded curiously irrelevant. -</p> - -<p> -"How long do you remain here?" -</p> - -<p> -"In London? I don't quite know. I am going to visit -a cousin in ten days or so." -</p> - -<p> -Sir Douglas took advantage of a pause in the -conversation between his wife and their visitor. -</p> - -<p> -"Bruce," he said, "let me introduce you to my niece, -Miss Maclean." -</p> - -<p> -"That," he continued to his wife, with a movement of his -head in Mona's direction, "is a great medical light." -</p> - -<p> -Mona laughed. -</p> - -<p> -"I am sure of it," said Lady Munro, with her irresistible -smile. "As for me, I would as soon have a woman doctor -as a man." -</p> - -<p> -Sir Douglas threw back his head and clapped his hands, -with a harsh laugh. -</p> - -<p> -"Well," he said, "when you come to say that—the skies -will fall." -</p> - -<p> -"Douglas, what <i>do</i> you mean?" She looked annoyed. -At the moment she really believed that she had been an -advocate of women doctors all her life. Sir Douglas seated -himself on a low chair beside her, and began to play with -her embroidery silks. -</p> - -<p> -When Mona rose to go, a little later, Lady Munro took -her hand affectionately. -</p> - -<p> -"Mona," she said, "I told you we were starting on Monday -morning for a short tour in Norway. My husband and -I should be so pleased if you would go with us." -</p> - -<p> -Mona's cheek flushed. "How <i>very</i> kind!" she said. -"I am so sorry it is impossible." -</p> - -<p> -"Why?" said Sir Douglas quickly. "You don't need -to go to your cousin till the end of the month." -</p> - -<p> -Mona's colour deepened. "There is no use in beating -about the bush," she said. "The fact is, I am engaged in -the interesting occupation of retrenching just now. You -know"—as Sir Douglas looked daggers—"I have not the -smallest claim on you." -</p> - -<p> -He laughed, and laid his hand on her shoulder. -</p> - -<p> -"Don't be afraid, Mona," he said. "We are not trying -to establish a claim on you. The great medical light shall -continue her way as heretofore, without let or hindrance. -Give us your society for a fortnight, and we shall be only -too much your debtors." -</p> - -<p> -"It will make the greatest difference to all of us!" said -Lady Munro cordially. -</p> - -<p> -And Evelyn, with the facile friendship of a schoolgirl, -slipped her arm caressingly round her cousin's waist. -</p> - -<p> -And so it was arranged. -</p> - -<p> -"Shall Nubboo call you a hansom," said Lady Munro. -</p> - -<p> -"She doesn't want a hansom," said Sir Douglas. "Throw -your gown over your arm, and put on a cloak, and I will -see you home." -</p> - -<p> -It was a beautiful summer night; the air was soft and -pleasant after the burning heat of the day. -</p> - -<p> -It was natural that Sir Douglas should be curious to see -the habitat of his new beetle, and after all, he was -practically her uncle; but when they reached her door she held -out her hand with a frank smile. -</p> - -<p> -"You have been very kind to me," she said. "Good -night." -</p> - -<p> -"I am afraid Lucy would say I had not 'stood up' to -him enough," she thought. "But all he wanted was to -dissect me, and I hope he has done it satisfactorily. What -a curious man he is! I wonder if any one ever took quite -that view of the subject before? Not at all the view of a -Sir Galahad, I fancy"—and she thought of a passage that -had puzzled her in <i>Rhoda Fleming</i>—"but he was kind to -me, and honest with me, and I like him. I must try very -hard not to become unconsciously 'blunted' as he calls it." -</p> - -<p> -Her eye fell on a letter from her cousin, and she sat down -in her rocking-chair, cast a regretful glance at the withered -maidenhairs on her shoulder, and tore open the envelope. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -"MY DEAR COUSIN,—Your letter has just come in, and -very good news it is. All the world looks brighter since -I read it. I will do my best to make you happy, and -although you will have plenty of time to yourself, you will -be of the greatest use to me. Both in the house and in the -shop——" -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -"Good God!" said Mona; and letting the letter fall, she -buried her face in her hands. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap05"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER V. -<br /><br /> -"AN AGATE KNIFE-EDGE." -</h3> - -<p> -It is doubtful whether Mona had ever received such a -shock in the whole course of her life. -</p> - -<p> -She had always been told, and she had gloried in the -knowledge, that her father's father was a self-made man; -but the very fact that she did thus glory was a proof, -perhaps in more ways than one, that the process of "making" -had been a very complete one. She vaguely knew, but she -did not in the least realise, what people may be before they -are "made." She had taken for granted, as she told Lucy, -that her cousin Rachel was "not exactly what one would -call a lady;" but she had unconsciously pictured to herself -a pretty cottage embowered in roses, a simple primitive life, -early dinners, occasional afternoon calls, rare tea-parties, and -abundant leisure for walking, reading, thinking, and dreaming -on the rocks. Her love for the sea, and especially for -the wild east coast, amounted almost to a passion, which -hitherto she had had but little opportunity of gratifying; -and this love, perhaps, had weighed with her as much as -anything else, in the decision she had made. -</p> - -<p> -She had talked with pride of the "good old yeoman -blood" in her veins, but principle and dainty nurture shrank -alike from the idea of the middleman—the shop. -</p> - -<p> -She did not dream of withdrawing from the rashly concluded -bargain. That simple way out of the difficulty never -suggested itself to her mind. "After all, could I have done -any better?" she said. "Even if Sir Douglas and my aunt -took more than a passing interest in me, should I be content -to devote my life to them? Nay, verily!" But all her -philosophy could not save her from a <i>mauvais quart d'heure</i>—nor -from a restless wakeful night—after she had read the -letter. -</p> - -<p> -And yet the situation appealed irresistibly to her sense of -humour. -</p> - -<p> -"If only Lucy were here to enjoy it!" she said. And -she found the necessary relief to her feelings in a long letter -to her friend. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -"I can see you turn pale at the word <i>shop</i>," she wrote, -"as I confess I did myself; but I suppose your youthful -and untrammelled imagination has taken flight at once to -Parkins & Gotto or Marshall & Snelgrove. My dear, let me -inform you at once that the town contains less than two -thousand inhabitants; and now, will you kindly reflect on -the number of cubic feet which the Parkins & Gotto and -Marshall & Snelgrove of such a place would find ample for -the bestowal of their wares. My own impression is, that my -sitting-room would afford sufficient accommodation for both, -and I am not sure that there would not be room for Fortnum -& Mason to boot. -</p> - -<p> -"If I only knew what I am to sell, it would be some -relief. Tobacco was my first thought, but the place is not -big enough to support a tobacconist. At whisky I draw the -line—and yet, on second thoughts, I don't. If it is tobacco -or whisky—behold my life-work! But if it is toffee and -ginger-bread horses, and those ghastly blue balls—what are -they for, by the way?—may the Lord have mercy upon my -soul!" -</p> - -<p> -She mentioned her meeting with the Munros, and the -projected trip to Norway, and then— -</p> - -<p> -"I hope the grocer duly congratulated you over the -counter," she concluded. "I take a fraternal interest in his -behaviour now, and with characteristic catholicity I have -gone further afield, and have imagined the very words in -which the postman delivered his tit-bit of information, I -have even pictured the farmers forgetting the price of hay, -and the state of the crops, in the all-absorbing topic of the -hour. -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> - "Your affectionate friend,<br /> - "MONA MACLEAN."<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -"And now," she said to herself, as she surveyed the -alarming array of trunks and packing-cases which the -servants had placed in the room,—"now I am in the position -commonly described as having my work cut out for me! -The valise must do for Norway, that trunk and hat-box -for Borrowness, and all the rest must be warehoused at -Tilbury's." -</p> - -<p> -The consideration of her wardrobe provided food for some -reflection and a good deal of amusement. -</p> - -<p> -"Pity there is no time to write to the <i>Queen</i> for -information as to outfit desirable for six months in a small -shop at Borrowness!" she thought. -</p> - -<p> -Finally, she decided on a plain tailor-made tweed, a -dark-coloured silk, a couple of pretty cotton morning-gowns, and -a simple evening-dress, "in case of emergency," she said, but -she knew in her heart that no such emergency would arise. -</p> - -<p> -"The good folks will think those sweetly simple, and -befitting the state of life to which it has pleased Providence -to call me," she said. "They would stare a little if they -knew what I had paid for them, I fancy. Borrowness '<i>versteht -so was nicht</i>,' as my dear old Frau used to say of Pauline -and the asparagus." -</p> - -<p> -In the midst of her work Sir Douglas and Evelyn came in -on some mythical errand. Lady Munro would have come -herself, but she was so busy. Sir Douglas was in high -spirits. It really was true of him, what Lady Munro had -graciously said of all of them, that Mona's going made the -greatest difference in the pleasure of the tour. From the -point of view of personal companionship he had long since -exhausted his wife, and Evelyn was still too crude and insipid -to be thought of in that capacity. To his peculiar, and -possibly morbid, taste, Mona's society had all the piquancy -which was as desirable to his mind as were Nubboo's curries -to his jaded Anglo-Indian palate. -</p> - -<p> -It was sad work that packing. Many a bright hope and -lofty ambition was buried with the books and instruments -in the great wooden cases; and who could tell whether there -would be any resurrection? Mona felt that another fortnight -of life would bring her to the end of all things. "A -world of failure and blighted enthusiasm behind," she said, -"a wild waste of vulgarity and mediocrity in front; and -here I stand for an instant poised on an 'agate knife-edge' -of fashion and luxury and popularity. <i>Carpe diem</i>!" -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -"And I'm sure, miss, if you'll give me what notice -you can, I'll do my very best to have the rooms vacant -again," said the good-hearted Irish landlady, who kept -dropping in at the most inconvenient moments to offer -assistance and shed a few tears. "It's little trouble you've -given, and many's the time it's done me good to meet your -bright face on the stair." -</p> - -<p> -"You may be quite sure that if I am ever in London for -any length of time, I shall try very hard to secure my old -quarters," said Mona cordially; "but it is impossible to tell -what the future may bring;" and she sighed. -</p> - -<p> -If lodgers could be made to order, Mrs O'Connor would -fain have had hers a little more communicative. She was -thirsting for an explanation of the fine carriage that had -driven up to the door on Wednesday afternoon, and of the -beautiful lady who had seemed so disappointed to find Miss -Maclean out. -</p> - -<p> -When the same equipage disappeared with Mona on Monday -morning, and Mrs O'Connor had leisure to reflect on -the apparent finality of this departure, in the light of the -alternate high spirits and profound depression which had -not altogether escaped her observation, she came to the -conclusion that Miss Maclean was meditating a good match, but -that she did not quite know her own mind. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap06"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER VI. -<br /><br /> -THE NÆRODAL. -</h3> - -<p> -"Don't talk to me of 'kariols' and 'stolkjaerres,'" said -Sir Douglas hotly. "I never got such an infernal shaking -in my life." -</p> - -<p> -Mona laughed. "Do you know," she said, "I imagine -that 'kariols' and 'stolkjaerres' have done more to make -or mar Norway than all its mountains and fjords. They -are so picturesque and characteristic, and they make up so -neatly into wooden toys and silver ornaments. Scenery and -sunsets are all very well, but it is amazing how grown-up -children love to carry home a piece of cake from the party, -and in this case the piece of cake serves as an excellent -advertisement." -</p> - -<p> -"Fill your pockets with cake by all means, but let us -have more substantial diet while we are here. You girls -may do as you like; for the future, Maud and I travel in a -calesch." -</p> - -<p> -They were all sitting on the grassy mounds and hillocks -near the edge of the precipice, above the Nærodal at -Stalheim. -</p> - -<p> -The air was full of the fragrance of spicy herbs and shrubs, -and the ceaseless buzz of insects in the mellow sunshine -could be heard above the distant unvarying roar of the -waterfalls. -</p> - -<p> -In front lay the "narrow valley," bounded on either side -by a range of barren, precipitous hills, half lost in shadow, -half glowing in purple and gold. Some thousand feet below, -like a white scar, lay the river, spanned by tiny bridges, -over which horses and vehicles crawled like flies. Behind, -the pretty, gimcrack hotel raised its insolent little gables in -the midst of the great solitude; and beyond that, hills and -mountains rose and fell like an endless series of mighty -billows. -</p> - -<p> -Lady Munro was leaning back in a hammock-chair, half -asleep over her novel; Sir Douglas puffed at his fragrant -cigar, and protested intermittently against all the hardships -he had been called upon to endure; Evelyn, with the -conscientiousness of an intelligent schoolgirl, was sketching the -Nærodal; and Mona leaned idly against a hillock, her hands -clasped behind her head, her face for the moment a picture -of absolute rest and satisfaction. -</p> - -<p> -"Why don't they bring the coffee?" said Lady Munro, -stifling a yawn. "Evelyn, do go and enquire about it, -do!" -</p> - -<p> -"It has not been served on the verandah yet," said -Evelyn, without looking up from her work, "and you know -they are not likely to neglect us." -</p> - -<p> -"No, indeed," said Mona. "I can assure you it is a great -privilege to poor little insignificant me to travel in such -company. I have long known that the god of hotel-keepers all -over the world is the hot-tempered, exacting, free-handed -Englishman. I used to think it a base superstition, but -now that I have all the privileges of a satellite, I see that it -is a wise and beneficent worship." -</p> - -<p> -"You pert little minx!" said Sir Douglas, trying to -control the twitching at the corners of his mouth. -</p> - -<p> -"And I have also learned," continued Mona unabashed, -looking at her aunt, "that a fascinating manner of languid -dignity, mingled with a subtle Anglo-Indian imperiousness, -is worth a whole fortune in 'tips.' I mean to cultivate a -far-off imitation of it." -</p> - -<p> -"Mona, you are too bad!" Lady Munro had become -much attached to her niece, but she never felt quite sure of -her even now. -</p> - -<p> -"My own belief is," said Evelyn dreamily, "that the -respect with which we are treated is due entirely to Nubboo." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, he does give an air of distinction to the party, I -confess," Mona answered. "When he is on the box of the -calesch I shall feel that nothing more is required of me." -</p> - -<p> -At this moment a stolid, fair-haired girl, in picturesque -Norwegian dress, appeared with a tray of cups and saucers, -and Nubboo followed with the coffee. There was a perpetual -dispute between them as to who should perform this -office. Each considered the other a most officious meddler, -and they ended, not very amicably, by sharing the duty -between them. -</p> - -<p> -"What a jumble you are making of the world!" laughed -Mona, as she watched the retreating figures. "How do you -reconcile it with your sense of the fitting to bring together -types like those? A century hence there will be no black, -no white; humanity will all be uniformly, hideously, -commonplacely yellow!" -</p> - -<p> -"God forbid!" ejaculated Sir Douglas, with orthodox -social horror of the half-caste. "Who the deuce taught -these people to make coffee?" -</p> - -<p> -"I am sure we have reason to know," sighed his wife, -"that it is impossible to <i>teach</i> people to make coffee." -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Nascitur non fit</i>? I suppose so, but it is curious—in a -savage nation;" and he drank the coffee slowly and -appreciatively, with the air of a professional wine-taster. -</p> - -<p> -Mona rose, put her cup on the rustic table, and looked at -Evelyn's painting. "How are you getting on?" she said, -laying her hand caressingly on the girl's shoulder. -</p> - -<p> -"If only the shadows would stand still! Mona, you are -very lazy. Do come and draw. See, I've two sketch-blocks, -and no end of brushes." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah!" said Mona. "Let me really succeed with a <i>Dies -Iræ</i>, or a Transfiguration, and then I shall think of attacking -the Nærodal." -</p> - -<p> -Evelyn raised her blue eyes. "Don't be cutting, please," -she said quietly. -</p> - -<p> -"And why not, pray, if it amuses me and does you no -harm? In the insolent superiority of youth, must you needs -dock one of the few privileges of crabbed age? My dear," -she went on, seating herself again, "when I had reached the -mature age of twelve I planned a great historic painting, -The Death of William II. I took a pillow, tied a string -some inches from one end, and round the kingly neck, thus -roughly indicated, I fastened my own babyish merino cape, -which was to do duty for the regal mantle. I threw my -model violently on the floor to make the folds of the cape -fall haphazard, and then with infinite pains I proceeded to -make them a great deal more haphazard than the fall had -done. To tell the truth, the size and cut of the garment -were such that I might almost as well have tried to get -folds in a collar." -</p> - -<p> -"No great feat," said Sir Douglas ruefully, "if it came -from a Norwegian laundry! Well?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona laughed sympathetically. "On the same principle -I studiously arranged my head and arms on the dressing-table -before the glass to look as if I had fallen from my -horse, and I studied the attitude till I flattered myself that -I could draw it from memory. But the legs and the nether -garments—there lay the rub! Heigh-ho, Evelyn! you need -not grudge me my cheap cynicism as a solatium for the loss -of the excitement that kept me awake making plans for -hours at night, and the passionate eagerness with which I -prosecuted my researches by day—between the boards of -Collier's 'British History'!" -</p> - -<p> -"But the picture," asked Sir Douglas; "does it survive!" -</p> - -<p> -"Alas, no! Not even as an unfinished fragment. A -laburnum-tree and two rose-bushes in the garden represented -the New Forest, and I never watched any one leave -the room without making a mental study of Walter Tyrrell -disappearing among the trees. But the royal legs were too -great a responsibility." -</p> - -<p> -"Why on earth didn't you get some one to lie on the floor -as a model?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona's face assumed an expression of horror. -</p> - -<p> -"You don't suppose I spoke to any one of my picture! I -was worlds too shy. Is that all you know of the diffidence -of genius?" -</p> - -<p> -"I expect it was a very clever picture," said Lady Munro -admiringly. -</p> - -<p> -"My dear aunt, I can see it clearly in my mind's eye -now, and although 'the past will always win a glory from -its being far,' I cannot flatter myself that there is an atom -of talent in that picture. There is not a strong line in it. -I had plenty of resource, but no facility." -</p> - -<p> -"It must have been a great disappointment to you to -leave it unfinished at last." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh dear, no! I believe the difficulty of the legs would -have been surmounted in the long-run somehow, but I -suddenly discovered that the true secret of happiness lay in -novel-writing. I spent the one penny I possessed at the -moment on a note-book, and set to work." -</p> - -<p> -"What was the title?" asked Evelyn, who had some -thoughts of writing a novel herself. -</p> - -<p> -"'Jack's First Sixpence,'" said Mona solemnly. -</p> - -<p> -"And the plot——?" asked Sir Douglas. -</p> - -<p> -"——narrows itself naturally, as you will see, to what he -did with the sixpence. I believe"—Mona's lips quivered, -and her eyes brimmed over with laughter, but she still spoke -with great solemnity—"that after much reflection he -deposited it in the missionary-box. I clearly see, on looking -back, that my budding originality found more congenial -scope in art than in literature." -</p> - -<p> -"And did that get finished?" asked Evelyn. -</p> - -<p> -"It did—in the long-run; but it had a narrow escape. I -had written some twelve pages, when I suddenly thought of -a title for a new story. My next penny went on another -note-book, and I wrote on the first page— -</p> - -<p class="t3"> - '<i>The Bantam Cock and the Speckled Hen:<br /> -<br /> - A Story.<br /> -<br /> - By<br /> -<br /> - Mona Maclean.</i>'<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -It looked very well, but for the life of me I could get no -further. To this day I have never had one idea in my head -on the subject of that bantam cock and speckled hen. So I -was forced to return to commonplace Jack; and a year later, -when I went to school, the second note-book was filled up -with four hundred dates, which I duly committed to memory. -What a glorious thing education is!" -</p> - -<p> -She sprang to her feet, ashamed of having talked so much, -and was glad that the tardy arrival of the post from Vossevangen -formed a natural interruption to her reminiscences. -The <i>portier</i> brought out a bundle of Indian letters and papers -for Sir Douglas, and a letter for Mona in Lucy's handwriting. -It "brought her down to earth with a run," as she -candidly informed the writer a fortnight later, and she put -it in her pocket with a frown. It was not pleasant to be -reminded of a commonplace, sneering, work-a-day world beyond -the hills and the sunshine. -</p> - -<p> -"Nothing for me!" exclaimed Evelyn. "Maria and Annette -promised faithfully to answer my letters by return." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't think they've had time even for that," said Mona. -"The Norwegians pride themselves on their facilities for -posting letters, but you must not expect a reply!" -</p> - -<p> -Sir Douglas went indoors to read and answer his letters in -comfort, Evelyn proceeded diligently with her painting, and -Mona announced her intention of going for a walk. -</p> - -<p> -"I cannot rest," she said, "till I have explored that path -that runs like a belt round the hills to the Jördalsnut. I -shall be back in plenty of time for supper." -</p> - -<p> -"My dear Mona!" exclaimed her aunt, "it looks dreadfully -dangerous. You must not think of it. A footpath -half-way down a precipice!" -</p> - -<p> -"It must be a horse-track," said Mona, "or we should not -see it so distinctly from here. Certainly the least I owe you -is not to run into any unnecessary danger; and I assure you, -you may trust me. Do you see that cottage at the end of -the path close to the Jördalsnut? When I get there, I will -wave my large silk handkerchief. Perhaps you will see it -if you are still here. <i>Au revoir!</i>" She kissed her aunt's -dainty ringed hand, and set off at a good walking pace. -</p> - -<p> -She had already made enquiry respecting the shortest way -to the Jördalsnut, and she found it now without much -difficulty. For half a mile or so it lay along the beaten road, -and then turned off into the fields. From these, she passed -into a straggling copse of stunted trees and tangled -undergrowth, and emerged suddenly and unexpectedly on the -brink of a deep gorge. Away down below, brawled and -tumbled a foaming swollen tributary of the river, and Mona -saw, with some uneasiness, that a plank without any kind of -handrail did duty for a bridge. -</p> - -<p> -"Now's your chance, my dear girl," she said; "if you -mean to keep your head in a case of life and death, or in a big -operation—keep it <i>now</i>!" -</p> - -<p> -She gave herself a second to make up her mind—not -another in which to think better of it—and then walked -steadily across. -</p> - -<p> -"After all, there was no danger for anybody one degree -removed from an idiot," she said, with characteristic -contempt for an achievement the moment it had passed from -the region of <i>posse</i> into that of <i>esse</i>. -</p> - -<p> -But it was with renewed energy that she climbed the opposite -side of the gorge and mounted the steep stony path that -brought her out on the open hillside. Now that she was -actually among them, the mountains towered about her in -awful silence. The sky above and the river below seemed -alike distant. The sun had gone down, and she stood there -all alone in the midst of barren immensity. She took off -her hat, tossed back the hair from her heated forehead, and -laughed softly. -</p> - -<p> -But she was only now at the beginning of the walk she -had planned, and there was no time to lose. The path was, -as she had thought, a horse-track, and the walk involved no -danger, so long as one did not too entirely lose sight of one's -footing in the grandeur of the surroundings. Once she was -almost startled by the sudden appearance of a man a few -yards in front of her, a visitor at the hotel, probably, for he -lifted his hat as he passed. -</p> - -<p> -"Of all the hundreds who are passing through Stalheim -to-day," she thought, "only one takes the trouble to come -along here, out of the eternal rush of kariols. What do they -come to Norway for?" -</p> - -<p> -Every step of the walk was keen enjoyment. She had -never allowed herself to get out of touch with nature. "The -'man' shall not 'perceive it die away,'" she had said in the -confidence of youth. "Nature is jealous, I know, but she -shall receive no cause of offence from me. She was my first -friend, and she shall be my last." -</p> - -<p> -She reached the tiny homestead she had seen from -Stalheim, and she waved her handkerchief for some minutes, -looking in vain for an answering signal. She was very near -the Jördalsnut now, but to her great disappointment she -found herself separated from it by a yawning valley which -it was quite impossible to cross. The path by which she had -come was continued along the hillside into this valley, -turning upon itself almost at right angles. -</p> - -<p> -"It's clear I shall get nowhere near the dear old roundhead -to-night," she said, "but I may be able to see at least -how the path reaches it ultimately." -</p> - -<p> -She walked on for some time, however, without coming to -any turning, and her spirits began to flag. The whole scene -had changed within the last half-hour. The air was damp; -poor-looking, half-grown trees concealed the view; and the -ground was covered with long, dank grass. -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose I must turn," she said regretfully. "I -take five minutes' rest, and then be off home." -</p> - -<p> -She seated herself on a great mossy boulder, and suddenly -bethought herself of Lucy's letter. The familiar handwriting -and words looked strangely out of place in this dreary -solitude. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -"MY DEAR MONA,—Perhaps you would like to know what -I did when I read your letter. I sat on the floor and <i>howled</i>! -Not with laughter,—don't flatter yourself that your -witticisms had anything to do with it. They only added insult -to injury. Don't imagine either that I mean to argue with -you. It is impossible to influence you when your decision is -<i>right</i>; and when it is <i>wrong</i>, one might as well reason with -a mule. The idea! I told father you would walk through -the examination in January and take your final M.B., when -I did. It once or twice crossed my mind with horror that -you might content yourself with a Scotch 'Triple,' or even a -beggarly L.S.A.; but that you would be insane enough to -chuck the whole thing, never so much as entered my head. -It is too absurd. Because, as you are pleased to say, you -have thrown three or four years of your life to the pigs and -whistles, is that any reason why you should throw a fifth? -</p> - -<p> -"And have you really the conceit to suppose that you -would make a good barmaid—a profession that requires -inborn talent and careful cultivation? Can you flirt a little -bit, may I ask? Could you flirt if your life depended on it? -Would anything ever teach you to flirt? Personally I take -the liberty of doubting it. I suppose you think improving -conversation and scientific witticisms will do equally well, or -better?—will amuse the men, and improve them at the same -time? <i>Gott bewahre!</i> -</p> - -<p> -"Do you consider yourself even qualified to be a -linen-draper's shop-girl? Are you in the habit of submitting -to the whims and caprices of every Tom, Dick, and Harry -who confers on you the favour of bargaining with you -for a good penny's-worth? Is it possible you do not -realise the extent to which you have always been—to -use a metaphor of your own—the positively electrified -object in the field?—how we have all meekly turned a -negative side to you, and have revenged ourselves by being -positive to the rest of the world? Can you hope to be a -comfort even to your cousin? Do you think she will enjoy -being snubbed if she calls things 'stylish' or 'genteel'? -Do you imagine that 'Evenings with the Microscope' will -fill the place of a comfortable gossip about village nothings -and nonentities? -</p> - -<p> -"Oh Mona, my friend, my wonderful, beautiful Mona, -don't be an abject idiot! Write to your cousin that you -have been a fool, and let us see your dear face in October. -How is the School to get along without you? -</p> - -<p> -"In any case, darling, write to me, and that right soon. -Why did you not tell me more about the Munros. The -idea of dangling such a delicious morsel as Sir Douglas -before my eyes for a moment, only to withdraw him again? -How could you tantalise me so? You know hot-tempered, -military old Anglo-Indians are my <i>Schwärmerei</i>, &c., &c., &c." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Mona laughed, but her eyes were full of tears. She -was not seriously moved by Lucy's letter but it depressed -her sadly, and suggested food for much reflection. She -sat for a long time, her head resting on her hand, her -eyes fixed absently on the page before her. Suddenly the -sharp rap of a raindrop on the paper brought her to a -recollection of her surroundings, and she started to her -feet in alarm. It had grown strangely dark. She could -see the mist gathering even through the trees, and the -rain was evidently coming on in earnest. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap07"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER VII. -<br /><br /> -A SON OF ANAK. -</h3> - -<p> -When she emerged into the comparative light and openness -of the Nærodal, she found, as she had feared, that -the mist was creeping rapidly down the hillsides. It was -raining heavily, and she must soon be enveloped in a -thick, wet cloud. -</p> - -<p> -"I am an abject idiot, as you say, Lucy," she said, "but -it was mainly your fault this time." -</p> - -<p> -She hurried along in breathless haste, but she was soon -obliged to slacken her pace. Although the path was safe -enough, it was broken away in some places, and already -she could scarcely see a yard in front of her. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't mind the open hillside," she gasped, "but how -I am to get across an invisible plank, with an invisible -torrent roaring down below, heaven alone knows!" -</p> - -<p> -And indeed she did mind the open hillside very much. -In the clear daylight she had fancied herself half-way -between earth and sky; now she was standing on a single -square yard of stony ground in a universe of nothingness. -</p> - -<p> -"It is simply impossible that I can find my way through -that wood," she went on, becoming almost calm from very -despair. "It was a pure chance that I took the right path -when the sun was shining." -</p> - -<p> -She had serious thoughts of deliberately spending the -night on the hillside, and even sat down for a few minutes -on a dripping stone; but her clothes were soaked through, -and her teeth chattered with cold, so she was forced to go on. -</p> - -<p> -"Shall I shout?" she thought. "No, I never shouted or -screamed in my life, and I don't mean to begin now." But -she knew well that she would have shouted eagerly enough, -if there had been the faintest chance of her being heard. -It was useless to shout to the mists and the barren hills. -</p> - -<p> -Then for the first time it occurred to her that her uncle -would send out a search-party; but, after the first rush of -relief, this seemed the worst fate of all. Anything would -be better than all that fuss and disturbance. It would -be too humiliating to provide food for days of exaggerated -gossip in the hotel, to be constrained with much penitence -to curtail or forego her solitary walks. And it -might all have been so easily avoided if she had had her -wits about her. "Oh Lucy, I am an abject idiot!" she -groaned. -</p> - -<p> -At this moment she fancied she heard a step on the -stones some distance behind her. Yes, there was no doubt -of it. Some one was coming. Uncertain whether to be -relieved or more alarmed than before, she stood still, her -heart beating fast. The steps drew nearer and nearer. -It was horrible to feel a presence so close at hand, and -to strain her eyes in vain. In another moment a broad, -ruddy, reassuring face looked down at her like the sun -through the mist, and she drew a long breath of relief. -</p> - -<p> -"Bless my soul!" the owner of the face exclaimed, -aghast at finding a young girl in such a dangerous situation, -"you don't mean to say you are alone?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," laughed Mona. But the laugh was a very uncertain -one, and revealed much that she would rather have -kept to herself. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, I am glad I have found you," he went on, shaking -a shower of water from his dripping straw hat. "I shouldn't -like to think my sister was out here alone on a night like -this. Won't you take my arm? I'm afraid you are very -tired, and it can't be easy to walk with your dress clinging -to you so." -</p> - -<p> -Mona's cheek flushed, but she was glad to take his arm. -His tall, sturdy, tweeded figure belied the boyish, beardless -face, and seemed like a tower of strength. -</p> - -<p> -"You <i>have</i> had a soaking," he went on, with a sort of -brotherly frankness which it was impossible to resent. "So -have I, but knickerbockers adapt themselves better to -untoward circumstances than your things. Am I walking too -fast?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not a bit. I need not tell you that I shall be glad to -get home." -</p> - -<p> -They both laughed at the equivocal compliment. -</p> - -<p> -"Were you afraid?" he asked presently. -</p> - -<p> -"Dreadfully," said Mona simply. "In fact," she added -after a pause, "I am ashamed now to think how unnerved I -allowed myself to get." -</p> - -<p> -"Why—you had some cause. Few men would have -strictly enjoyed the situation. How far had you gone?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't quite know. About a mile round the corner, I -think. I was among the trees and did not notice the mist. -By the way—did you get to the Jördalsnut?" -</p> - -<p> -"No: I left my portmanteau at the inn, and started with -that intention; but I went in for a bit of scrambling on this -side of the valley, and then the mist drove me home. I am -very glad it drove me to your assistance—not but what you -would have got on all right without me." -</p> - -<p> -"I can't tell you how glad <i>I</i> am. I really don't know -what I should have done," and she raised her eyes to his -with a frank look of gratitude. -</p> - -<p> -He started, almost imperceptibly. There was a curious -charm in that honest un-selfconscious glance, but there was -something more than that. -</p> - -<p> -"You are not travelling alone, are you?" he asked, after -a minute's silence. -</p> - -<p> -"No, I am with my uncle and aunt. Sir Doug—my -uncle usually walks with me,—not that I think a chance -accident like this is any argument against my going about -alone if I choose." -</p> - -<p> -There was no answer. He was looking at her in an -interested way, as if meditating the question profoundly. -</p> - -<p> -"Please don't tell any one you found me <i>in extremis</i>," -she went on; "it would be too great a disappointment to -be obliged to give up my solitary walks." -</p> - -<p> -"How can I tell any one what is not true?" he said, -recovering himself. "I did not find you in extremis at all. -I did not even know you were frightened till you laughed. -You looked at me with such dignified self-assurance when I -hove in sight that I was more than half inclined to lift my -hat and pass on." -</p> - -<p> -Mona laughed incredulously. -</p> - -<p> -They trudged on for a time in silence. Once she looked -up and found his eyes fixed on her face with an expression -of amusement. "It is very odd," he said, finding himself -caught. -</p> - -<p> -"What is?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I don't know—the whole thing." -</p> - -<p> -He broke into a quiet laugh, and Mona joined in it from -sympathy. He was a curious creature this son of Anak, -whose broad, glistening face gleamed at her so benevolently -through the mist. -</p> - -<p> -"Have you been long at Stalheim?" he asked. -</p> - -<p> -"Only a few days." -</p> - -<p> -"Is the hotel good?" -</p> - -<p> -"Ye-e-s. This part of Norway is in an awkward transition -stage between the primitive inn and the cosmopolitan -hotel." -</p> - -<p> -"Are there many tourists?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh yes! They go rushing through by hundreds every -day. They stop to smoke a cigar, eat a dinner, or sleep for a -night, and then join the mad chase of kariols again. They -are noisy, too; my uncle gets quite indignant at the way -they clatter about the wooden floors in their heavy boots, -and shout their private affairs up-stairs and down-stairs, or -from the verandah to the road." -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose he does," and the son of Anak laughed again. -</p> - -<p> -The mist was beginning to clear by slow degrees when -they came to the crest of the abrupt descent that led to the -torrent. -</p> - -<p> -"I can't tell you how I was dreading this part of the -way," said Mona. -</p> - -<p> -"Were you? Well, I must say it is a case where two are -better than one. See, I will go first and hold out my hands -behind me." -</p> - -<p> -They got across in safety, and in a wonderfully short time -found themselves on the road. -</p> - -<p> -"Don't you find it very dull here in the evening?" he asked. -</p> - -<p> -"No. But I can imagine any one would who was -accustomed to being amused." -</p> - -<p> -"You sit on the verandah, I suppose?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not on the one overlooking the Nærodal. There is -such a crowd there. We get one of the others to ourselves, -and enjoy a cup of coffee, and a chat, or a quiet rubber." -</p> - -<p> -"Now do get off those wet things instantly," he said as -they drew near the house, "and promise me that you will -have a glass of hot toddy or something equivalent. That's -right!"—interrupting her thanks—"don't stand there for a -moment. I shall take the liberty of presenting myself on -the verandah after supper." -</p> - -<p> -Mona ran up-stairs with a smile, but his last words had -caused her some alarm. What sort of reception might he -look for on the verandah? Lady Munro was considered -extremely "exclusive"; and as for Sir Douglas, he classified -the male tourists broadly as "counter-jumpers," and was -indignant if they so much as looked at his niece and daughter. -If her friend got a chance to speak for himself, nobody could -fail to see that he was a gentleman, and in that case all -would be well; but Sir Douglas was hasty, and not likely -to welcome advances from a complete stranger. -</p> - -<p> -"The fact is, I ought not to have hob-a-nobbed with him -so," she said. "I need not have let my gratitude and -relief run away with me. It is all my own fault. Yes, -Lucy, I am an abject idiot!" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I am so glad to see you!" cried Evelyn as Mona -entered the room the cousins shared; "in another minute I -should have told Mother." -</p> - -<p> -"Where is aunt Maud?" -</p> - -<p> -"She came in not long after you left, and has been asleep -all the afternoon, so there was no one to tell Father. I -should have gone to him in another minute. I have been -so miserable." -</p> - -<p> -"Plucky little soul! And she has actually had the stove -lighted! I shall be dry in no time. Luckily, the mist is -clearing every minute." -</p> - -<p> -"My Etna will be boiling directly, and I have got wine to -make you some negus. Oh, Mona, do make haste! What -a state you are in!" -</p> - -<p> -Mona hastily exchanged her dripping clothes for a comfortable -dressing-gown, and after wringing out her long hair, she -seated herself by the stove, sipping her negus. -</p> - -<p> -"You must have been in fearful danger, I have imagined -such things!" -</p> - -<p> -"Not a bit. A son of Anak came to my rescue; but more -of that anon. Get me out some clean things, like a darling." -</p> - -<p> -"What dress will you wear?" -</p> - -<p> -"Which of my evening gowns has my maid laid out?" -laughed Mona. "Ah, the delaine. Curious the partiality -she shows for that delaine! Now tell me exactly how -much time I have. I don't want to lose a moment of this -<i>dolce far niente</i>, but I must not be late for supper, whatever -happens." -</p> - -<p> -She was not late. The bell rang just as she was -fastening her brooch. -</p> - -<p> -"Got back, Mona?" said Lady Munro, emerging fresh -and fragrant from her room. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, thank you." But before Mona had time to say -more, Lady Munro turned to speak to Sir Douglas. It was -impossible to begin a long story then. -</p> - -<p> -The sudden change in the weather had induced many of -the tourists to stay on, so the large dining-room was crowded. -Mona just caught a glimpse of the son of Anak at the opposite -end of another table, and she attempted once more to -give a modified account of her afternoon's adventure. But -the Fates were against her. A well-known Edinburgh professor -was sitting opposite Sir Douglas, and the conversation -became general. -</p> - -<p> -"Let us hope he will give me five minutes' grace on the -verandah," she said resignedly; but she had just remarked, -by way of introduction, that the mist had almost entirely -cleared, and Sir Douglas was in the act of lighting his first -cigar, when the door opened, and her friend strode in with -an air of infinite assurance. -</p> - -<p> -"Aunt Maud," she began, but her voice was drowned in a -general exclamation. -</p> - -<p> -"Why, Sahib!" "Dickinson Sahib! Where on earth did -you drop from?" "What a delightful surprise!" "Who -would have thought of seeing you here? Sit down and tell -us all about it. Oh, I forgot—Mr Dickinson, my niece, Miss -Maclean." -</p> - -<p> -"I was sure of it," exclaimed the new-comer, shaking -hands cordially with the astonished Mona. "If I had met -her in the wilds of Arabia, I could have sworn that she was a -relative of Lady Munro's." And then the whole story came -out, with modifications. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, I must say," said Mona, when the questioning and -explanations were over, "that you have treated me extremely -badly." -</p> - -<p> -He laughed like a schoolboy. "I am sure you don't -grudge me my very small joke." -</p> - -<p> -"No—especially as it makes us quits. Now we can begin -a new page." -</p> - -<p> -"I hope it may prove as pleasant as the first." -</p> - -<p> -"Prettily said, Sahib," said Lady Munro. "Now, be -sensible and give us an account of your eccentric movements." -</p> - -<p> -"Eccentric!" he said, meditating a far-fetched compliment, -but he was a sensible man and he thought better of -it. "That's easily done. One of my Scotch visits fell -through—a death in the house—so I ran over here for a few -days. I thought I should probably run against you,—they -say people always do meet in Norway. Of course, I knew -you had sailed to Bergen." -</p> - -<p> -"And what is your route now?" -</p> - -<p> -"Is it for you to ask me that, as the filing said to the -magnet?" -</p> - -<p> -Sir Douglas went in search of maps and guide-books, and -Mr Dickinson took a low chair beside Lady Munro. -</p> - -<p> -"I need not ask if you are enjoying your tour," he said. -"You are looking famously." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh yes, I think this primitive world quite charming, -and the air is so bracing! You have no idea what a -pedestrian I have become. When Mona and my husband go off on -breakneck excursions, Evelyn and I walk for hours—the -whole day long nearly." -</p> - -<p> -Mona looked up hastily. She had never heard of these -wonderful walks; but her eyes met Evelyn's, and her -question died on her lips. -</p> - -<p> -"And Sir Douglas?" asked Mr Dickinson. -</p> - -<p> -Lady Munro laughed, a low sweet laugh. "Oh, of course, -he always grumbles; he says he has lived on roast leather -and boiled flannel ever since we came. But he is enjoying -himself immensely. It is a great thing for him to have -Mona's company, as indeed it is for all of us. I am afraid -she finds us dreadfully stupid. You have no idea what -books she reads." -</p> - -<p> -"At the present moment," said Mona gravely, "I am -reading <i>Moths</i>." -</p> - -<p> -Everybody laughed. -</p> - -<p> -"Then you are meditating a cutting critique," said her -aunt. -</p> - -<p> -"I am reading the book simply and entirely for amusement," -said Mona. "I am getting a little tired of ormolu -and marqueterie, but one can't have everything one wants." -</p> - -<p> -"But you don't really care for Ouida?" said the Sahib -seriously. -</p> - -<p> -Mona sighed. "If you force me to be critical," she said, -"I do prefer sunlight, moonlight, or even glaring gaslight. -Ouida takes one into a dark room, and, through a hole in -the shutter, she flashes a brilliant gleam of light that -never was on sea or land. But what then? She is a -very clever woman, and she knows how to set about -telling a story. One admires her power and <i>esprit</i>, one -skips her vulgar descriptions, and one lets her morality -alone." -</p> - -<p> -Lady Munro laughed rather uneasily. She would not -have owned to any man that she read Ouida, and Mona -puzzled her. "After all, the child has been so buried in her -studies," she thought, "that she knows nothing of the -world. She will learn not to say <i>risqué</i> things to men, and, -fortunately, it is only the Sahib." -</p> - -<p> -Sir Douglas returned, and the conversation resolved itself -into a discussion of routes and steamers. -</p> - -<p> -"I will not sleep again at that horrid noisy Voss," he -said. "We must lunch and change horses there, and get on -to Eide the same night." -</p> - -<p> -"Can you be ready to start at eight?" said the Sahib to -Lady Munro. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh dear, yes! I am up every morning hours before that." -</p> - -<p> -Sir Douglas laughed cynically. -</p> - -<p> -"Who is Mr Dickinson?" said Mona, when she and -Evelyn had retired to their room. -</p> - -<p> -"Deputy-Commissioner of—I always forget the name of -the place." -</p> - -<p> -"Never mind. Boggley Wallah will do equally well for -me. And why do they call him Sahib? I thought -everybody was a Sahib?" -</p> - -<p> -"His family call him that for a joke, and it has stuck -somehow. It was because he was very young when he got -some appointment or other." -</p> - -<p> -"He looks a mere boy now." -</p> - -<p> -"I think he is thirty-three." -</p> - -<p> -"I wish you would not tell him that I am a medical -student; I don't feel that I have done credit to my cloth. -I should not like him to think medical women were muffs." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, Mona, I do wish you would not be a medical -woman, as you call it. Why don't you marry?" -</p> - -<p> -"'Nobody axed me, sir, she said.' At least nobody that -I call anybody." -</p> - -<p> -"If you would go out to India, somebody would ask you -every week of your life." -</p> - -<p> -"Thanks. Even that is not absolutely my ideal of -blessedness." -</p> - -<p> -"But you don't want to be an old maid?" -</p> - -<p> -"That expression is never heard now outside the walls of -a ladies' boarding-school," said Mona severely. "Oh, my -dear, at the romantic age of seventeen you cannot even -imagine how much I prize my liberty; how many plans I -have in my head that no married woman could carry out. -It seems to me that the unmarried woman is distinctly -having her innings just now. She has all the advantages of -being a woman, and most of the advantages of being a man. -I don't see how it can last. Let her make hay while the -sun shines. -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'Ergreife die Gelegenheit! Sie kehret niemals wieder.'"<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -"Well, I know I should be very disappointed, if I thought -I should never have little children of my own." -</p> - -<p> -"O Maternity, what crimes are perpetrated in thy name! -Mothering is woman's work without a doubt, but she does -not need to have children of her own in order to do it. You -dear little soul! Never mind me. I wish you as many as -you will wish for yourself when the time comes, and a sweet -little mother they will have!" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap08"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER VIII. -<br /><br /> -BONS CAMARADES. -</h3> - -<p> -"Nonsense!" -</p> - -<p> -"Fact, my dear fellow! I knew it before I knew her, or -I simply should never have believed it It's an awful shock -to one's theories, don't you know?—one's views of womanliness -and all that sort of thing. I have thought about it till -I am tired, and I can't make it out; but upon my soul, -Dickinson, you may say what you like, the girl's a brick." -</p> - -<p> -"I'm quite sure of that already, and I'm sure she's clever -enough for anything." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh—clever, yes! But clever women don't need to—but -there! I can't go into all that again. I simply give -the subject up. Don't mention it to me again." -</p> - -<p> -"But you know I am a staunch believer in women doctors. -When my sister was so ill, the doctor at the station -said she would be an invalid for life, and a staff surgeon -who was passing through said the same. As a last resource -I got a woman doctor to come a hundred miles to see her, -and she brought Lena round in a few weeks. She knew her -business, but—she was very different from Miss Maclean." -</p> - -<p> -"Wasn't she? That's just it! Oh, I know they're a -necessary evil. I should like to see a man doctor look at -my Evelyn, except for a sore throat or a cut finger! I have -always upheld the principle, in spite of the sacrifice -involved; but how could I tell that any of my own womankind -would take it up? You see, she was left so much to -her own resources, poor child! There was no one to warn -her of what it all meant. I reproach myself now for not -having looked after her more; but how on earth could I -know that she was going to turn out anything in particular? -Gad! Dickinson, when I think of all that girl must know, -it makes me sick—sick; but when I am speaking to -her—upon my soul, I don't believe it has done her a bit of -harm!" -</p> - -<p> -The entrance of Mona and Evelyn into the sunny breakfast-room -interrupted the conversation for a moment, and it -was presently resumed in a lighter and more frivolous vein -over the trout and the coffee. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, trout, yes!" said Sir Douglas. "I never said anything -against the trout. If it were not for that, we should all -be reduced to skin and bone. Evelyn, where <i>is</i> your mother?" -</p> - -<p> -It was eight o'clock, and the calesch stood at the door, -when Lady Munro appeared, serene and smiling; and then -Evelyn and Mona had to hurry away and pack her valise for -her. -</p> - -<p> -"You know I've been up for hours," she said, with a -charming nod to the Sahib, as she seated herself at the -table, "but I began to write some letters——" -</p> - -<p> -"Humph!" said Sir Douglas, and shrugging his shoulders, -he abruptly left the room. -</p> - -<p> -When the tardy valise was at last roped on to the calesch, -and the <i>portier</i> was opening the door, the young Norwegian -landlady came up shyly to Lady Munro. -</p> - -<p> -"Will you haf?" she said in her pretty broken English, -holding out a large photograph of the hotel, with its staff on -the doorstep. -</p> - -<p> -Never had Lady Munro smiled more sweetly. -</p> - -<p> -"Is that really for me? How very kind! I cannot tell -you how much I shall prize it as a memento of a charming -visit. Why, I can recognise all of you!" and she looked -round at the worshipping servants. -</p> - -<p> -A minute later they drove off in state, with Nubboo -enthroned on the box in front, and Dickinson Sahib -following on in a kariol behind. -</p> - -<p> -It was a glorious summer morning. Not a trace of mist -or cloud lingered about the hillsides; the Nærodal was once -more asleep in sunshine and shadow. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, I am sure we shall not soon forget Stalheim," said -Lady Munro. "It has been quite a new experience." -</p> - -<p> -"Quite," agreed Sir Douglas. "It has been an absolutely -new experience to me to see a hard-worked horse go up a hen's -ladder to bed, with only a bundle of hay for supper, and -never a touch from his groom. It is astonishing what -plucky little beasts they are in spite of it." -</p> - -<p> -"Now don't enjoy the scenery too much," said the Sahib, -driving up alongside. "You have been over this ground -before, and human nature cannot go on enjoying keenly all -day long. Save yourselves for the afternoon. The drive -from Voss to Eide is one of the finest things in Norway." -</p> - -<p> -And so it proved. For the first few miles after they left -Vossevangen, they drove through pine-woods and dripping -cliffs, where every tiny ledge had its own tuft of luxuriant -mosses; and then suddenly, at full speed, they began the -descent to the sea-level. -</p> - -<p> -"How <i>dreadfully</i> dangerous!" exclaimed Lady Munro. -</p> - -<p> -"As good as a switchback," laughed Evelyn. -</p> - -<p> -"What engineers those fellows must be!" said Sir Douglas -admiringly, as every turn brought them in sight of the two -great waterfalls, and their faces were drenched with spray. -</p> - -<p> -"It is like going round and round the inside of a mighty -chalice," said Mona. -</p> - -<p> -And so it was; but the sides of the chalice were one living -mass of the most glorious green, almost every square yard of -which would have made a picture by itself. -</p> - -<p> -When they reached the bottom, the driver suddenly -dismounted, and proceeded to occupy himself with a piece of -string and the weather-beaten straps that did duty for -traces. -</p> - -<p> -"Harness—broke!" he said calmly. -</p> - -<p> -"The deuce it has!" exclaimed Sir Douglas. "I think -you might have found that out at the top of the hill. Do -you suppose our necks are of no more value than your own? -Nubboo, just see that it is all right now." -</p> - -<p> -"How horrible!" and Lady Munro shuddered. -</p> - -<p> -Nubboo delivered a lengthy report in his native language, -and Sir Douglas shrugged his shoulders resignedly. -</p> - -<p> -"We must just chance it," he said. "I daresay it will be -all right." -</p> - -<p> -"How <i>horrible</i>!" repeated Lady Munro. -</p> - -<p> -But they reached Eide without further accident, although -rain fell steadily during the last hour of the drive. -</p> - -<p> -It is the pleasant and primitive practice at Eide, especially -in rainy weather, for the visitors to assemble in the -large entrance-hall and verandah to watch the arrival of -new-comers. -</p> - -<p> -"If the show had been got up expressly for their benefit, -and they had duly paid for their seats, they could not stare -more frankly, could they?" laughed the Sahib, as he helped -the ladies out of the calesch. "There is not an atom of -concealment about it." -</p> - -<p> -"Great privilege for us, upon my soul, to afford so much -entertainment!" growled Sir Douglas. -</p> - -<p> -"Won't you come for a turn in the garden before you go -up-stairs?" the Sahib asked Mona, when the question of -rooms had been settled. "We have five minutes to spare -before supper, and there is a fine view of the fjord." -</p> - -<p> -"But alack! what a change after dear, rugged old -Stalheim!" she said, as they strolled down to the water's -edge. "This might almost be an Interlaken garden." -</p> - -<p> -"Quite tropical, isn't it? But look at the fjord!" -</p> - -<p> -It spread out before them in a soft, hazy golden light, and -the tiny waves broke gently on the steps at their feet. -</p> - -<p> -Mona's face kindled. She did not think it necessary to -speak. -</p> - -<p> -"And yet," she said a minute later, "it is a cruel fjord. -It is going to take us back to civilisation again." And then -she could scarcely repress a laugh. Civilisation, indeed! -Civilisation in a small shop at Borrowness! -</p> - -<p> -He looked at her quickly. Did she repent of the life-work -she had chosen? -</p> - -<p> -"In the stores of your knowledge," he asked presently, his -eyes on the hills, "do you include geology?" -</p> - -<p> -"Among the rags and tags of my information," she -replied, "I do not." "Oh, Sir Douglas, Sir Douglas," she -thought, "you faithless knight!" -</p> - -<p> -"I seem to have put my foot in it," he thought vaguely, -"but I cannot imagine how." And so he proceeded to do it -again. -</p> - -<p> -"They have a lot of quaint old silver rings at the hotel," -he said, as they turned back, "and other ancient Norwegian -curios. I should like your opinion of them. Are you an -authority on the subject?" -</p> - -<p> -"Far from it," she said. "But I should like very much -to see them, and to compare the things I like with the -things I ought to like. Pray," she added, with an expression -of almost childlike entreaty, "don't let any one persuade -you that I am a learned woman. I wish with all my heart -that I were, but I'm not, and I can't bear to feel like a -hypocrite." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't think any one will ever take you for <i>that</i>," he -said, smiling. -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose it must be my own fault," she went on, with -curious impulsiveness, not heeding his remark. "I suppose -my manner is dogmatic and priggish. But what can I do? -When I am interested in a subject, I can't stop to think -about my manner." -</p> - -<p> -"If I might venture to advise," he said, "I should -certainly say, 'Don't attempt it.'" -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -The next day they sailed for Odde. The fjord was smooth -as glass, and every hamlet and tree on the peaceful hillsides -was reflected in the water. It was a day for dreaming -rather than for talking, and they scarcely spoke, save when -each bay and gorge brought into view a fresh spur of the -mighty glacier. -</p> - -<p> -Early in the afternoon they reached Odde, beautiful -Odde!—lying close to the edge of the fjord, embraced by the -wooded hills, with pretty yachts and steamers at anchor in -its bay, and the glacier looking coldly down from the great -ice-sea above. -</p> - -<p> -"We might almost be in England again," said Lady -Munro, as they sat at lunch in the dining-room of the -Hardanger. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, indeed," said Sir Douglas. "Civilised notions, -half-a-dozen people in the place that one knows, -two—actually two—shops, and <i>dinners</i>? Evelyn, you had -better take a kariol and a tiger, and go shopping on the -Boulevard!" -</p> - -<p> -"I was just going to ask for your purse," said Evelyn -calmly; "there are no end of things that I want to buy." -</p> - -<p> -Finally, they betook themselves to the shops <i>en famille</i>, -and a scene of reckless expenditure ensued. Sir Douglas -heaped presents on "the girls," as he called Mona and -Evelyn, and Lady Munro seemed to be in a fair way to buy -up the whole shop. -</p> - -<p> -"These old silver things are so pretty," she said childishly. -</p> - -<p> -"And, at worst, they will do for bazaars," added Evelyn. -</p> - -<p> -The saleswoman became more and more gracious. She -had considerable experience in serving tourists who, with -reminiscences of a previous summer in Switzerland or Italy, -offered her "a pound for the lot," and her manner had -acquired some asperity in consequence; but she quickly adapted -herself to the people with whom she had to deal. -</p> - -<p> -Mona watched her with a curious interest and fellow-feeling. -"I ought to be picking up hints," she thought, with -a smile. "I certainly might have a much worse teacher." -</p> - -<p> -"Let me see. That's eleven and a half kroner," said a -showy-looking man, taking a handful of gold and silver -from his pocket. "I'll give you ten shillings." -</p> - -<p> -No answer. -</p> - -<p> -"Will you take ten shillings?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, sir," very quietly. -</p> - -<p> -He frowned. "Eleven shillings?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, sir." -</p> - -<p> -"What do you throw off?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not—anything, sir," in slow but very unmistakable -English. -</p> - -<p> -He flounced out of the shop, leaving the things lying on -the counter. -</p> - -<p> -Not a muscle of the young woman's face changed, as she -quietly returned the pretty toys to their place on the -shelves. -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Brava!</i>" said Mona to herself. -</p> - -<p> -"A penny for your thoughts, Mona dear," said Evelyn's -quiet voice a minute later. "Mr Dickinson has asked you -twice how you like this old chatelaine. He wants to buy it -for his sister." -</p> - -<p> -Mona laughed and blushed. -</p> - -<p> -"My thoughts are worth more than a penny," she said,—"to -me at least." In point of fact, she was wondering -whether it would be a part of her duty to say "Sir" and -"Madam" to her customers at Borrowness. -</p> - -<p> -In the course of the afternoon the Munros met a number -of friends and acquaintances, and the next few days passed -gaily away in excursions of all kinds. Night after night -the party came home, sunburnt and stiff, but not too tired -to enjoy a bright discussion across the pleasant dinner-table. -There was nothing very profound about these conversations. -Everybody had toiled and climbed enough during the day. -Now they were content to fly lightly from crag to crag over -a towering difficulty, or to cross a yawning problem on a -rainbow bridge. -</p> - -<p> -But after all, they were happy, and the world was not -waiting in suspense for their conclusions. -</p> - -<p> -Sunday morning came round all too soon, and on Monday -the Munros were to sail for Bergen. Mona was sitting alone -on the verandah, watching the people coming to church. -The fjord lay sparkling in the sunshine, and from every -hamlet and homestead along the coast, as far as the eye -could reach, boats were setting out for Odde. As they drew -in to the pier, the voluminous white sleeves, stiff halo-like -caps, and brilliant scarlet bodices, made a pretty foreground -of light and colour in the landscape. -</p> - -<p> -But in the midst of her enjoyment Mona drew a long, -deep, heartfelt sigh. -</p> - -<p> -A little later Evelyn joined her. "I have been looking -for you everywhere, Mona," she said. "Mr Dickinson has -set his heart on going to the Buarbrae glacier to-day. The -others all went before we came, and I think it would be -insane to tire ourselves the last day. Father says he has -not got over that 'Skedaddle' waterfall yet. You don't -care to go, do you?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona's eyes were still fixed on the fjord. -</p> - -<p> -"Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die," she said -half absently. "I will go with all the pleasure in life." -</p> - -<p> -"Don't be profane, Mona. You are the queerest, cleverest -girl that ever lived." -</p> - -<p> -Mona laughed. "I don't consider that I am queer," she -said; "I have good reason to know that I'm not clever; and -all the world can see that I am not a girl. Otherwise, your -description is correct. My compliments to the Sahib, and, -if it please his Majesty to take me, I shall be only too glad -to go." -</p> - -<p> -"No doubt it will please his Majesty. You should hear -how he speaks to Mother about you. You will soon be on a -par with that wonderful sister of his. I think he talks too -much about his sister, don't you?" -</p> - -<p> -"No. He is among friends. I don't suppose he would -do it in a scoffing world. Evelyn, dear, there is no use -telling you not to grow cynical. We all do in this used-up -age. Cheap, shallow, cynical talk is the shibboleth of the -moment, and if we are at all sensitive, it is a necessary -armour. But don't carry it into your immediate circle. In -heaven's name, let us live frankly and simply at home, or -life will indeed be apples of Sodom." -</p> - -<p> -Evelyn looked rather blank. She did not know very well -what all this meant, and still less could she see what it had -to do with Mr Dickinson's sister. But she felt rebuked, and -the words lingered in her memory. -</p> - -<p> -In five minutes more the Sahib and Mona set off. -</p> - -<p> -"What magnificent training you are in!" he said admiringly, -as he watched her lithe young figure mount the hill -at his side. "Your walking has improved immensely in the -last week." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes; one does get rather flabby towards the end of -term, in spite of such specifics as tennis. But I don't think -the circumstances of our first meeting were very conducive -to a just estimate of my powers." -</p> - -<p> -They both laughed at the recollection. -</p> - -<p> -"What an age ago that seems!" he said. -</p> - -<p> -"I am sorry the time has dragged so heavily." -</p> - -<p> -"Nay. The difficulty is to believe that ten days ago I -did not know you. Now turn and look behind." -</p> - -<p> -The village had sunk picturesquely into the perspective of -the landscape. Beside them the river surged down over the -rocks and boulders to the fjord, and the sound of church -bells came through the still summer air. -</p> - -<p> -"This is better than being in church," he said. -</p> - -<p> -"Much;—especially when one understands nothing of -what is going on. But I am glad I have seen a Norwegian -service. It is so simple and primitive, and besides"—she -laughed—"I have a mental picture now of Kjelland's Morten -Kruse." -</p> - -<p> -"I do go to church as a rule," he said. "In India I -consider it a duty." -</p> - -<p> -Mona raised her eyebrows. "I go to church as a rule, -too," she said. "But it never occurred to me to look upon -it in the light of a duty." -</p> - -<p> -"Don't you think that in that, as in other things, one has -to think of one's neighbours?" -</p> - -<p> -"I can't bear the word 'duty' in such a connection. It -seems to me, too, that the Spirit of Praise and Prayer bloweth -where it listeth. One cannot command it with mathematical -precision at eleven o'clock on Sunday morning. The Spirit -of Praise comes when one is alone in a world like this. I -think we lose our individuality when there is nothing human -near to remind us of it, and become as much a part of this -great throbbing glorying Nature as the trees and the grass -are." -</p> - -<p> -"And the Spirit of Prayer?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona smiled. -</p> - -<p> -"The story of that," she said, "is written on each man's -white stone." -</p> - -<p> -"And yet, if most people act on that principle," he said, -"they are a little apt to lose the Spirit of Praise and Prayer -altogether. Don't you think so?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona did not answer the question for a moment. Then -she met the eyes that were fixed on her face. "Yes," she -said frankly, "I do." -</p> - -<p> -They walked on for a few minutes in silence. -</p> - -<p> -"And may I ask what you do go to church for?" he said -at last. "Don't answer if I take a liberty in asking." -</p> - -<p> -"You don't at all; but it is a little difficult to say. I -believe I go to church in order to get some one to think -beautiful thoughts for me. When one's life is busy with work -that takes all one's brain-power, there is little energy left -with which to think beautiful thoughts. One loses sight -of the ideal in the actual. I go to church in order to keep -hold of it. If I were a seamstress I should probably go out -among the hills on Sunday morning and think my beautiful -thoughts for myself." -</p> - -<p> -"You make it, in fact, a question of the division of -labour. We are to buy our beautiful thoughts ready-made as -we buy our boots, because a complicated state of society -leaves us no time to make them." -</p> - -<p> -"Precisely; and yet we are not exactly to buy them ready-made. -I think it is Robertson who says that a thought is of -no use to us, however beautiful, unless it is in a sense our -own,—unless it makes us feel that we have been groping -round it unconsciously, and all but grasping it. We cry -'Eureka!' when a beautiful thought strikes home, and we -become aware for the first time that we have been in search -of something. The moral of all this is, that our priest or -preacher must be a man with a mind akin to our own, moving -on the same plane, but if possible with a wider radius. -This granted, his sect and creed are matters of infinitely -little moment." -</p> - -<p> -"But it seems to me that books would serve your purpose -as well as sermons?" -</p> - -<p> -"They serve the same purpose," she said; "but I am a -strong believer in mesmeric influence, in the force of -personality. Other things being equal, a voice impresses me much -more than a printed page. Oh, I don't place sermons in a -unique position by any means, or even sermons and books. It -is very much a question of keeping 'a border of pinks round -the potato-patch.' All the endless things that open up our -horizon might be classed together; they would differ only as -to the direction in which they open up the horizon. It is -quite true in one sense that I go to church for the same -reason that I go to the theatre—to keep myself from getting -worldly; but a good sermon—I say a <i>good</i> sermon—has a -more direct bearing on the ordinary affairs of life. In fact, -it helps us to see not only the ideal, but, as I said before, -the ideal in the actual." -</p> - -<p> -"I think I see what you mean, although theatres are not -commonly supposed to serve the purpose of keeping one -unspotted from the world." -</p> - -<p> -"It seems to me that one can get worldly over anything, -from ballet-dancing to sweeping a room, if one does not see -beyond it. There is another side to the 'trivial round, the -common task' question, true and beautiful as Keble's poem -is. Worldliness seems to me to be entirely a question of -getting into a rut." -</p> - -<p> -"All you say is very fine," he said; "but, with the -curious provincialism of a Londoner—seen from the -Anglo-Indian point of view—you are assuming that one has an -unlimited number of preachers from whom to choose. What -would you do if you were thrown back on one poor specimen -of the 'fag end of the clergy'?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona raised her eyes in surprise. -</p> - -<p> -"I should never dream of going to church at all," she -said, "unless there was something to be gained from the -service." -</p> - -<p> -"And suppose you were in India, where the lives of the -English do not exactly tend to bear out the teaching of the -missionaries?" -</p> - -<p> -"I should remember that it must be very poor teaching -which would be borne out by hypocrisy on my part." -</p> - -<p> -"You would not go for the sake of example?" -</p> - -<p> -"Most assuredly not. I don't believe in conscious influence." -</p> - -<p> -They had come in sight of the Sandven-vand, and the -little steamer stood at the pier. There were several other -passengers on deck, so further conversation was impossible -till they reached the other side. Then they made their way -through the quaint old village, and up the bank of the -river towards the glacier. Already it was in full view. -Wooded hills closed in the valley on either side, and right -in front of them the outlet was blocked, as it were, by a -glowing, dazzling mountain of ice, snow-white under the -cloudless blue sky. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I am so glad we came!" And all the light from -sky and glacier seemed reflected in Mona's face. -</p> - -<p> -"I thought so," he said, well pleased. "I was sure it -would be worth while." -</p> - -<p> -Presently the view was hidden, as they passed under the -trees that overarched the river. -</p> - -<p> -"In fact," he said suddenly, as if the conversation had -never been interrupted, "you don't believe in letting your -light shine before men?" -</p> - -<p> -"<i>That</i> I do!" she answered warmly. "I believe in -letting a clear, steady, unvarying light fall alike on the evil -and the good. I do not believe in running hysterically -round with a farthing dip into every nook and cranny where -we think some one may be guided by it." -</p> - -<p> -"You are severe," he said quietly. -</p> - -<p> -"Forgive me!" said Mona. "In truth, it is the -metaphor that is too heavy for me: Fools and firearms—'the -proverb is something musty.' Let me choose a weapon that -I can use, and you will see what I mean. -</p> - -<p> -"Let us say that each man's life is a garden, which he is -called upon to cultivate to the best of his ability. Which -do you think will do it best,—the man who, regardless of -how his garden looks from the road, works honestly and -systematically, taking each bed in its turn; or the man who -constantly says, 'A. will be coming down the highroad -to-day; I must see that the rose-bed is in good condition: or, -B. will be looking over the hedge, I must get that -turnip-patch weeded,'—and so on?" -</p> - -<p> -It was some time before he answered. -</p> - -<p> -"I think you are a little one-sided, if you will excuse my -saying so." -</p> - -<p> -"Please don't talk like that. How could I help being -grateful for an honest opinion?—the more unlike my own, -the better for me. Was I dogmatic again? Please remember -that, whatever I say, I am feeling after the truth all the -time." -</p> - -<p> -He looked at her, smiling. -</p> - -<p> -"But such as your metaphor is, let us carry it a little bit -farther. Let us suppose that your garden is laid out in a -land where the soil is poor and the people are starving. -You know of a vegetable which would abundantly repay the -trouble of cultivation, and would make all the difference -between starvation and comparative comfort; but no one -will believe in it. We will suppose that you yourself have -ample means of livelihood, and are not dependent on any -such thing. Would you not, nevertheless, sacrifice the -symmetry of your flower-beds and grow my imaginary vegetable, -if only to convince 'A. who comes down the highroad, -and B. who looks over the hedge,' that starvation is needless?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona smiled and held out her hand. -</p> - -<p> -"Well said!" she cried cordially. "A good answer, and -given with my own clumsy weapon. I admit that I would -try to exercise 'conscious influence' in the very rare cases -in which I felt called upon to be a reformer. But I am -glad that is not required of me in the matter of church-going." -</p> - -<p> -"And the whole, wide, puzzling subject of Compromise?" -he said. "Is there nothing in that?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona's face became very grave. "Yes," she said, "there -is a great deal in that—though I believe, as some one says, -that we studiously refrain from hurting people in the first -instance, only to hurt them doubly and trebly when the time -comes—there is a great deal in the puzzling subject of -Compromise; but it has not come much into my life. There has -been no one to care——" -</p> - -<p> -Suddenly she laughed again and changed the subject -abruptly. -</p> - -<p> -"It is so odd," she said, "so natural, so like our humanity, -that we should argue like this—you in favour of conscious -influence, I against it—and I make not the smallest -doubt that your life is incomparably simpler, franker, more -straightforward than mine." -</p> - -<p> -"That I do not believe," he said emphatically. -</p> - -<p> -She looked at him with interest. -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose you really don't. I suppose you are quite -unconscious of being a moral Antiseptic?" -</p> - -<p> -"A <i>what</i>?" he asked with pretended horror. "It doesn't -sound very nice." -</p> - -<p> -"Doesn't it? I should think it must be rather nice to -make the world sweeter, sounder, wholesomer, simply by -being one's self." -</p> - -<p> -"Miss Maclean—you are very kind!" -</p> - -<p> -"I wish I could say the same of you! I call it most -unkind to make that conventional remark in response to a -simple and candid statement of a fact." -</p> - -<p> -"It was not conventional. I meant it. It is most kind -of a man's friends to give expression now and then to the -good things they think about him. One almost wonders -why they do it so seldom. The world is ready enough to -give him the other side of the question. The truth is—I -was thinking how very difficult it would be to formulate a -definition of you." -</p> - -<p> -Mona put her fingers in her ears with unaffected alarm. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, please don't," she said. "That would be a mean -revenge indeed. It is one thing to say frankly the thought -that is in our mind, and quite another to go afield in search -of our opinion of a friend. There is a crude brutality about -the latter process." -</p> - -<p> -"True," he said. "And I did not mean to attempt it. -In fact, I should not dream of pigeon-holing you." -</p> - -<p> -"You <i>are</i> unkind to-day. Did I deny that you were fifty -other things besides an Antiseptic? and may not an Antiseptic -have fifty other chemical properties even more important -than that one? Who talks of <i>pigeon-holing</i>?" -</p> - -<p> -"You must have the last word, I see." -</p> - -<p> -"Womanlike!" she said, pretending to sneer. -</p> - -<p> -"Womanlike!" he repeated mischievously. -</p> - -<p> -"And now, pray note that <i>I</i> have presented you with the -last word. Any woman could answer that taunt. Instead, -I inquire what that shanty on the hill is?" -</p> - -<p> -"That shanty, as you are pleased to call it, is the hotel -and restaurant of the place. Shall we have lunch now, or -after we have been on the glacier?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, after! I cannot rest until I have felt the solid ice -under my feet." -</p> - -<p> -This proved to be no very easy achievement; but after a -good deal of climbing, Mona's ambition was realised. Then -they scrambled down to watch the water surging out from -under the deep blue arches; and at last, tired and dishevelled, -they betook themselves to the inn. -</p> - -<p> -"I hope you are as hungry as I am," he said, with the old -boyish manner, "and I hope we shall find something we can -eat." -</p> - -<p> -The "shanty" was clean and airy, with well-scoured floors, -but the remains of lunch on the table certainly did not look -very inviting,—a few transparent slices of Gruyère cheese, -which seemed to have been all holes, some uninteresting-looking -biscuits, and doubtful sausage. -</p> - -<p> -"Have you coffee and eggs?" asked the Sahib. "Ah—that -will do, won't it?" -</p> - -<p> -"Coffee and eggs are food for the gods," said Mona. -</p> - -<p> -"Or would be, if they did not spoil their appetites with -nectar and ambrosia," he corrected; and they laughed and -talked over the impromptu meal like a couple of children. -</p> - -<p> -"How many ladies are there studying medicine just now?" -asked the Sahib as they walked slowly homewards. -</p> - -<p> -"Women? I don't quite know. About a hundred in the -country, I should think." -</p> - -<p> -"And what do the—I am afraid I had almost said the -stronger sex—say to this infringement of their imagined -rights?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona looked at his stalwart, athletic figure. -</p> - -<p> -"Pray don't apologise for calling them the stronger sex to -me," she said, laughing. "I am not at all disposed to try -my strength against yours. Oh, of course there was -immense opposition at first. That is matter of history now. -But it would be difficult to exaggerate the kindness and -helpfulness of most of the younger men; and a few of the older -ones have been heroes all along." -</p> - -<p> -"That is a 'good hearing.' Then do you think it could -all have been managed without opposition, by dint of a little -waiting?" -</p> - -<p> -"<i>That</i> I don't!" she answered warmly. "The first -women, who were determined not merely to creep in themselves -but to open up the way for others, must have suffered -obloquy and persecution from all but the very few, at any -time. If the lives of a little band of women—I had almost -said if the life of <i>one</i> woman—could be blotted out, I -wonder how many of us would have the courage to stand where -we now do? It is a pretty and a wonderful sight, perhaps, -to see a band of young girls treading the uphill path and -singing as they go. 'How easy it is,' they say, 'and how -sweet we make it with our flowers!' No doubt they do, -and heaven bless them for it! But it has always seemed to -me that the bit of eternal work was the making of the road." -</p> - -<p> -She spoke with so much earnestness that the Sahib was -almost uneasy. -</p> - -<p> -"That is more than true," he said warmly. "It is the -working of a universal principle. You know," he added -shyly, "if you were, going to take to a public life, I wonder -you did not think of the platform." -</p> - -<p> -"The <i>platform</i>!" Mona laughed merrily. "If you put -me on the platform with an audience in front of me, I should -do what a fellow-student tells me she did on receipt of -my last letter—'sit on the floor and howl'!" -</p> - -<p> -They both laughed. This anti-climax brought them comfortably -down to everyday life again, and they talked about -pleasant nothings for the rest of the way. -</p> - -<p> -"Look here, Dickinson," said Sir Douglas, when they -entered the hotel; "I won't have you walking off with -Mona for a whole day together. She is my property. Do -you hear?" -</p> - -<p> -"I am sure it was I who discovered her on the hillside," -</p> - -<p> -Mona held up her finger protestingly. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I am Sir Douglas's invention, without a doubt," -she said, putting her hand affectionately within her uncle's -arm; "you only rediscovered me accidentally. What a pity -it is that every great invention cannot speak for itself and -give honest men their due!" -</p> - -<p> -The Sahib was very silent as he sat in the smoking-room -that evening. He held a newspaper before him, for he did -not wish to be disturbed; but he was not reading. -</p> - -<p> -In India he was looked upon almost as a woman-hater, -so little did he care for the society of the young girls who -came out there; and Mona's "cleverness" and culture, her -earnest views of life, and the indefinable charm of manner -which reminded him of Lady Munro, had all combined to -make his short friendship with her a very genuine pleasure. -Already he found himself thinking half-a-dozen times a day, -"I wonder what Miss Maclean would say about this," or -"I shall ask Miss Maclean her opinion of that;" and yet -what a curious girl she was! It was a new experience to -him to be told by an attractive young woman that he -was a "moral Antiseptic"; and, in short, she puzzled him. -Women always are a <i>terra incognita</i> to men, as men are to -women, as indeed every individual soul is to every other; -but it might have been well for both of them if the Sahib -could have read Mona at that moment even as well as she -read him. He would have seen that she looked upon him -precisely as she looked upon the women who were her friends; -that it never occurred to her that he was man, and she -woman, and that nothing more was required for the enaction -of the time-worn drama; that, although she had taken no -school-girl vow against matrimony, the idea of it had never -seriously occupied her mind, so full was that mind of other -thoughts and plans. He would have seen that the excitement -and enthusiasm of adolescence had taken with her the -form of an earnest determination to live to some good -purpose; and that the thousand tastes and fancies, which had -grouped themselves around this central determination, were -not allowed seriously to usurp its place for a moment. -</p> - -<p> -But he did not see. He could only infer, and guess, and -wonder. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap09"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER IX. -<br /><br /> -DORIS. -</h3> - -<p> -The steamer was fast approaching Newcastle. -</p> - -<p> -They had had some very rough weather, but now the sea -was like a mill-pond, and the whole party was sitting on -deck under an awning. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, Mona dear," said Lady Munro, "I am sure I -don't know how we are to say good-bye to you." -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Don't!</i>" entreated Mona. "You make me feel that -I must find words in which to thank you, and indeed I -can't!" -</p> - -<p> -Her sensitive lips quivered, and Sir Douglas uttered a -sympathetic grunt. -</p> - -<p> -"You really must spend a month with us on the Riviera -at Christmas," went on her aunt. "We will take no -refusal." -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Do!</i>" said Evelyn, putting her arm round her cousin's -waist. -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you very much," and Mona's eyes looked eloquent -thanks; "but it is quite out of the question." -</p> - -<p> -"I have put my hand to the plough," she thought, "and -I don't mean to look back. Six months it shall be, at the -very least." -</p> - -<p> -"And what is a month," growled Sir Douglas, "when we -want her altogether! I am afraid I promised that her -incomings and outgoings should be without let or hindrance -as heretofore—old fool that I was!—but how could I tell -how indispensable she was going to make herself?" -</p> - -<p> -"I wish you would not talk so," said Mona. "I have -never in all my life been so disgracefully spoilt as during -the last fortnight. I should get simply unbearable if I -lived with you much longer." -</p> - -<p> -"The fact is," continued Sir Douglas, looking at his wife, -"the greatest mistake of our married life has been that Mona -did not come to us ten years ago, when your mother died." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't fancy Mona thinks so," said Lady Munro, smiling -at her niece. -</p> - -<p> -"No," said Mona, and the slight flush on her cheek -showed that her frankness cost her an effort. "It is good -for a man to bear the yoke in his youth. If I had not -known hardship sometimes, and loneliness often, I could not -have appreciated as I have done the infinite enjoyment of -the last fortnight." -</p> - -<p> -"The fact is, you bear the yoke a deal too much," said -her uncle. "Bless my soul! you're only a girl yet, and you -can only be young once. And now you are going to mope, -mope, mope, over your books." -</p> - -<p> -"You know I am going to my cousin in the first instance." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes—for a few weeks, I suppose! By the way, can't -you get out of that? I am sure we want you a great deal -more than she does." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh no," said Mona hastily. "I can't get out of that -even if I wished to." -</p> - -<p> -"If you were cut out for a common drudge, I should not -mind," he went on; "but with your gifts—— Do you -know, there is nothing to hinder your being a great social -success?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, indeed there is!" exclaimed Mona. "You have -made me very happy, and I have shown my gratitude by -forgetting my own existence, and talking a great deal too -much. But when my friends want to show me off, and beg -me to talk—with the best will in the world, I seem unable -to utter a word." -</p> - -<p> -"No wonder, when you live the life of a hermit. But if -you gave your mind to it——" -</p> - -<p> -Mona opened her lips to speak, and then thought better -of it. There was no need to say that, at the best, social -success seemed a poor thing to give one's mind to; -attractive enough, no doubt, so long as it was unattained; -but when attained, as the sole result of years of effort, -nothing but Dead Sea fruit. -</p> - -<p> -Sir Douglas got up and offered her his arm without -speaking. They walked up and down the deck together. -</p> - -<p> -"Where are your cigars?" she said. "I am sure you -want one." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't," he said irritably. "I want you." But he -allowed her to get one out of his case for him nevertheless. -</p> - -<p> -"And now, Mona," he said more amiably, "I want you -to tell me all about your money affairs—what you have got, -how it is invested, and who looks after it for you." -</p> - -<p> -"You are very kind," she said gratefully; "but please -don't suppose I was thinking of money when I talked of -hardship. I am quite a Croesus now. I had to be very -careful for a year or two, while things were unsettled." -</p> - -<p> -"And why the deuce did not you write to me? What -did you suppose you had an uncle for? What is the use of -your coming to us now, when you are quite independent and -we can do nothing for you?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona pressed his hand affectionately in both of here. -</p> - -<p> -"The use is problematical from your point of view, I -confess, but from mine it is infinite. You have made me -fancy myself a girl again." -</p> - -<p> -"And what are you but a girl! But come along, I am -to hear all about your money." -</p> - -<p> -And they entered into a long and involved discussion. -</p> - -<p> -The Sahib meanwhile was looking on in a mood as nearly -approaching ill-humour as was possible to him. If Lady -Munro and Mona had both been available, he might have -been in some doubt as to which he should converse with; -but Sir Douglas had settled the question by monopolising -Mona, and she had become proportionately desirable in his -eyes. He persuaded himself that he had fifty things to -say to her on this the last day of their companionship, and -he considered himself much aggrieved. Moreover, Mona -seemed to be submitting to a lecture, and the docile, -affectionate smile on her face seemed strangely attractive to the -neglected man. -</p> - -<p> -Every moment his irritation increased, and when at last—with -Newcastle well in sight—Mona left Sir Douglas and -began to talk caressingly to her aunt and Evelyn, the Sahib -rose abruptly from his chair and strode away. -</p> - -<p> -Mona did not notice that he had gone. She liked him -cordially, but, now that the moment of parting had come, -her thoughts were fully occupied with her "own people." -</p> - -<p> -"You will let us know of your safe arrival, won't you?" -said Lady Munro. "I suppose you will be too busy to -write often during the winter, and I am afraid none of -us are very great correspondents; but remember, we tryst -you for next summer, if not before." -</p> - -<p> -"You can't possibly get beyond Edinburgh to-night," -said Sir Douglas, stopping in front of them and looking -at his watch. -</p> - -<p> -"I am afraid not," said Mona. "But I am very anxious -to go straight through, if possible." -</p> - -<p> -"I do not know why we should not all have gone north -together," he continued, turning to his wife. "Cannot -we do it still? Your maid can bring your boxes." -</p> - -<p> -"My <i>dear</i> Douglas! Evelyn and I need no end of things -before we can start on a round of visits." -</p> - -<p> -He shrugged his shoulders, and threw up his eyes resignedly. -</p> - -<p> -"Mona cannot possibly spend a night in a hotel alone," -he said. -</p> - -<p> -"You dear old uncle! You must remember I have not -had you to take care of me all my life. But I am all right -to-night. If I sleep in Edinburgh, it shall be with a friend." -</p> - -<p> -"What friend? Who is she?" -</p> - -<p> -"She is a grade or two below the rank of a duchess, but -I think she will satisfy even you. Doris Colquhoun." -</p> - -<p> -He smiled and nodded. On the whole, he was well -satisfied to have a few days at his club, even if everybody -was out of town. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, I will at least see you safe into the train," he said. -</p> - -<p> -The Sahib had expected that this duty would fall to him, -and it was with the least possible shade of injured dignity -that he took Mona's proffered hand. -</p> - -<p> -"I shall often think of our pleasant walks," she said, -looking up with the frank, bright smile that made her face -beautiful. But he tried in vain to find a suitable answer, -and merely bowed over her hand in silence. -</p> - -<p> -"Now remember, my dear girl," said Sir Douglas, as he -passed the last of a series of periodicals through the window -of the railway carriage, "if you want anything whatever, -write to me, or, better still, come. You do not need even -to wire unless you want me to meet you at the station. -Just get into the first train and walk into our quarters as -if they belonged to you. We are rolling stones, but, -wherever we are, you will always find a home." -</p> - -<p> -Mona did not answer. Her eyes were brimming over -with tears. -</p> - -<p> -The train glided out of the station, and Sir Douglas -watched it till it was out of sight. Then he swore roundly -at a small newsboy who was somewhat persistent in the -offer of his wares, and walked back to the hotel in an -execrable temper towards the world in general, and towards -his wife and daughter in particular. -</p> - -<p> -Mona was alone in the carriage, but she did not allow -herself for one moment the luxury of dwelling on the -life she had left behind. She dashed away her tears, and -brought all her power of concentration to bear on the -heap of magazines at her side. But it was hard work. -Visions of sunlight dancing on the rippling fjord, of -waterfalls plunging from crag to crag, of mountains looming in -solemn stillness, of deep blue columns supporting a sea -of ice,—all these lingered on the retina of her mind, as -the physical image persists after the eye is shut. -</p> - -<p> -And with them came the faces—of which she must not -allow herself to think. -</p> - -<p> -Never, since she was a mere girl, had Mona known any -lack of friends,—friends true and devoted; but, in spite -of moments of curious impulsiveness, a proud reserve, which -was half sensitiveness, had always kept even the irrepressible -Lucy more or less at a distance. None of her friends -had ever presumed to lay claim to any proprietorship in -her, as Sir Douglas now did; and perhaps because it was -something so new and strange, his blunt kindness was -more welcome than the refinement of tact to her sensitive -nature. -</p> - -<p> -It was growing dark when the train drew in to the -Waverley Station. -</p> - -<p> -"I want to go to Borrowness," said Mona hastily. "Am -I in time for the train?" -</p> - -<p> -"Borrowness," repeated the porter meditatively, for the -place was not one of European celebrity. "Well, ma'am, -it's touch and go. If you have no luggage you might -manage it." -</p> - -<p> -"You will do nothing of the kind," said a quiet voice, -and a neatly gloved hand was slipped into Mona's arm. -"I never heard anything more absurd." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, Doris!" exclaimed Mona. "Why did you come? -I told you I could only come to you if I missed the last -train." -</p> - -<p> -"Was not that the more reason why I should come here -for a glimpse of you? I don't get the chance so often. -But if you think you are going on with that tired face, and -without any dinner, you are much mistaken. Mona, I am -surprised—<i>you</i> of all people!" -</p> - -<p> -"If you only knew it," said Mona resignedly, "you are -very unkind." -</p> - -<p> -"No, I am not. I will observe your own conditions, and -argue about nothing. Your will shall be law; I shall not -even refer to your last letter unless you do. If you tell me -that you are going to fly to the moon from the top of -the Scott Monument, I shall merely wish you a pleasant -journey. And indeed, dear, I am quite sure your train had -gone." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, let me telegraph to my cousin," said Mona, with -a sigh. -</p> - -<p> -Doris Colquhoun was not a little surprised at her easy -victory, but in truth her friend was too worn out to argue. -</p> - -<p> -"My own ponies shall take you out," said Doris. "They -are something new since you were here, and they are such -beauties. Do not laugh when you see my groom. Father -hunted him out for me. He is about the size of a pepper-pot." -</p> - -<p> -With a light practised hand she took the reins, the -"pepper-pot" touched his hat with infinite solemnity, and -they bowled away through the town and out into the -suburbs. -</p> - -<p> -"Your pepper-pot is a work of art, without doubt," said -Mona, "but I fear he would not be of much use in case of -an accident." -</p> - -<p> -"So Father said. But the ponies are very safe, and -I don't know what fear is when I am driving. Father -is well content to gratify all my whims, so long as I hold -my peace about the one that is more than a whim." -</p> - -<p> -Mona did not answer. Just then they entered the avenue -of a brightly lighted house; and, with a magnificent sweep, -Doris brought the ponies to a standstill in front of the -steps. -</p> - -<p> -Mona knew that here she was a very welcome guest, and -when she found herself in the familiar dining-room, with -the wood-fire crackling in the grate, and father and daughter -quietly and unaffectedly enjoying her society, she felt cheered -and comforted in spite of herself. -</p> - -<p> -Mr Colquhoun was a shrewd, kind-hearted Scotch solicitor, -or, to be more exact, a Writer to the Signet. He was a -man of much weight in his own profession, and, in addition -to that, he dabbled in art, and firmly believed himself to be -a brilliant scientist <i>manqué</i>. He was a man of a hundred -little vanities, but his genuine goodness of heart would have -atoned for many more grievous sins. His gentle, strong-willed -daughter was the pride of his life. Only once, as she -told Mona, had she made a request that he refused to grant, -and in her devotion to him she well-nigh forgave him even -that. -</p> - -<p> -"Miss Maclean looks as if she would be the better of -some sparkling wine," said Mr Colquhoun, and he gave an -order to the footman. -</p> - -<p> -Mona smiled and drew a long breath. -</p> - -<p> -"What a relief it is to be with people who know one's -little weaknesses!" she said. -</p> - -<p> -"What a relief it is to be with people who know one -wine from another!" he replied. "Now Doris drinks -my Rœderer dutifully, but in her heart she prefers -ginger-pop!" -</p> - -<p> -Doris protested indignantly. -</p> - -<p> -"Now don't pretend that you are a wholesome animal," -said her father, looking at her with infinite pride. "You -like horses and dogs, that is the one human thing about -you. By the way, did you make any sketches in Norway, -Miss Maclean?" -</p> - -<p> -"Very few. Norway was too big for me. I did some -pretentious <i>genrebilder</i> of women in their native dress, and -a hut with a goat browsing at the foot of a tree that grew -on the roof." -</p> - -<p> -"Both goat and tree being on the roof?" -</p> - -<p> -"Both goat and tree being on the roof. The tree is -a very common feature in that situation; the goat was -somewhat exceptional." -</p> - -<p> -"So I should think," said Doris. "I should like to -see that sketch." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, when you want to turn an honest penny," said -Mr Colquhoun, "I will give you fifty pounds for your -sketch-book any day." -</p> - -<p> -"Indeed I am sorely in want of fifty pounds at the -present moment," laughed Mona, "and, regarded as a work -of art, you might have the book for sixpence. But there -is a sort of indecency in selling one's diary." -</p> - -<p> -"It is not as a work of art that I want it," he said -candidly, "though there is something of that in it too. -It is like your father's college note-books." He laughed -at the recollection. "You have a knack of knowing the -right thing to sketch, which is rare among men, and unique -among women." -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you very much, but I am afraid I never -appreciate a compliment at the expense of my sex." -</p> - -<p> -"Then you may accept this one with an easy mind," -said Doris. "The hit is not at the sex, but at my -pine-forests and waterfalls." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, pray do not let us get on the subject of Doris's -sex," said Mr Colquhoun. "That is our one bone of -contention." -</p> - -<p> -"One of a very few," corrected Doris. -</p> - -<p> -"I think they all reduce themselves to that." -</p> - -<p> -"Perhaps," she answered gravely. -</p> - -<p> -"And now I want to know how long you can stay with -us, Miss Maclean. You must stay for lunch to-morrow, -whatever happens. Some cronies of mine—scientific cronies, -you know—are coming to look at a wonderful microscope -I have been buying. It cost a pretty penny, I assure you. -Professor Murray calls it the hundred-ton gun. We should -be glad of the opinion of a lady fresh from one of the -greatest physiological laboratories in the world." -</p> - -<p> -A courteous refusal was on Mona's lips, but the -description of the microscope sounded suspicious. She had -had some experience of Mr Colquhoun's method of purchasing -scientific articles, and guessed that he had probably -given fifty pounds for a cumbrous antiquated instrument, -when he might have got a simpler, more efficient one -for ten. She was determined that the "cronies" should -not laugh at the simple-hearted old man if she could help -it; and if the opinion of a "lady fresh from one of the -greatest physiological laboratories in the world" carried -any weight, surely even a little perjury would be excusable -in such a case. -</p> - -<p> -"I will stay with a great deal of pleasure," she said; "but, -whatever happens, I must catch the afternoon train." -</p> - -<p> -When the evening was at an end, the two girls went -together to Mona's room, and for a time they gossiped about -all sorts of trifles. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, I see you are very tired," said Doris at length. -"Goodnight." -</p> - -<p> -Mona did not answer. -</p> - -<p> -"Are you sure you have got everything you want? Let -me put that arm-chair under the gas. That's right. Good -night." -</p> - -<p> -Still there was no answer. -</p> - -<p> -"Have you fallen asleep already, Mona, or do you not -mean to say good night?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, you old humbug!" said Mona suddenly, pushing an -arm-chair to the other side of the hearth, and putting her -friend unceremoniously into it. "Fire away, in heaven's -name! Let me hear all you have to say. Now that I have -come, I suppose we must thrash the whole thing out. I -withdraw all my conditions. Let us have it out and get it -over!" -</p> - -<p> -Doris was almost startled at her friend's vehemence. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, of course, you know, Mona," she said hesitatingly, -"it was a great disappointment to me." -</p> - -<p> -"My failure? Naturally. I did not find it exactly -amusing myself." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't mean that. I do not care a straw about the -failure, except in so far as it delays the moment when you -can begin to practise. That was the fortune of war. But I -do think you are doing a very wrong thing now." -</p> - -<p> -"In what way?" -</p> - -<p> -"Burying your wonderful powers in the petty life of a -village." -</p> - -<p> -"Look here, Doris. I mean to give you a fair hearing, -though it is too late to change my plans, even if I wished to, -which I don't; but suppose we drop my 'wonderful powers'? -I fancy that theory is played out." -</p> - -<p> -"All the examiners in the world could not change my -opinion on that score. But we will not discuss the point. -Taking you as you stand——" -</p> - -<p> -"Five feet five in my stockings——" -</p> - -<p> -"Please do not be frivolous. Taking you as you stand—a -woman of education, culture, and refinement——" -</p> - -<p> -"Youth, beauty, and boundless wealth—go on! Word-painting -is cheap." -</p> - -<p> -"I thought you were going to give me a fair hearing?" -</p> - -<p> -"So I will, dear. Forgive me!" -</p> - -<p> -"It used to be a favourite theory of yours that 'every man -truly lives so long as he acts himself, or in any way makes -good the faculties of himself.'" -</p> - -<p> -"So it is still, now that you remind me of it. <i>Après?</i>" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, Mona, you know all I would say. Are you making -good the faculties of yourself? With the most glorious -life-work in the world opening before you—work that I would -give all I possess to be allowed to share—you deliberately -turn aside and waste six precious months among people who -do not understand you, and who won't appreciate you one -bit." -</p> - -<p> -"I admire the expression 'opening before me,' when the -examiners have twice slammed the door in my face. But, as -you say, we won't discuss that. You talk as if I were going -on a mission to the Hottentots. I am only going to my own -people. I do not suppose I am any more superior to my -cousin Rachel than the Munros are superior to me." -</p> - -<p> -"Nonsense!" -</p> - -<p> -"At least you will admit that she is my blood-relation. -You can't deny that claim." -</p> - -<p> -"I can't deny the relationship, distant though it is, but I -do distinctly deny the claim. You know, Mona, we all have -what are called 'poor relations.'" -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose many of us have," said Mona meditatively, -after a pause. "You will scarcely believe it, but for the last -three weeks I have been fancying that my position is unique." -</p> - -<p> -"Of course it is not. We are all in the same boat, more -or less. My brother Frank says that, after mature consideration -on the subject of so-called poor relations, he has come -to the conclusion that, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, -it is better to cut the connection at once and altogether." -</p> - -<p> -Mona raised her eyebrows. "Doris Colquhoun quotes -that?" -</p> - -<p> -The colour rose to Doris's face, but she went on— -</p> - -<p> -"Not because of their poverty. I do not need to tell you -that. There are people who earn thirty pounds a year by -the sweat of their brow whom one is proud to have at one's -table. It is because they have different ideas, speak a -different language, live in a different world. What can one -do at the best? Frank says,—Spend a week in the country -with them once a year or so, and invite them to spend a -fortnight in town. What is the result? They feel the difference -between themselves and you, they don't like it, and they call -you 'snob.' Suppose you ignore them altogether? The net -result is the same. They call you 'snob.' The question is, -Is it worth all the trouble and friction?" -</p> - -<p> -"Doris, Doris," said Mona, "that is the sheerest casuistry. -You know no power on earth would tempt you to cut your -own poor relations." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know. The women all happen to be particularly -nice. I should not break my heart if I thought I should -never see some of the men again." -</p> - -<p> -"All women are particularly nice, according to you; no -doubt my cousin Rachel would be included in the number. -No, no; tell all that to the marines! I know you too well. -And pray don't preach such dangerous doctrine. It would -be precisely the people who have risen above their relatives -only in the vulgar externals of life who would be most ready -to take advantage of it." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, I confess that I always argue the matter with -Frank. Personally, I don't see why one cannot be happy -and cordial when one meets one's relations, without -sacrificing one's self to them as you are doing." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know that I am sacrificing myself. Perhaps," -she added suddenly with a curious smile, "I shall acquire at -Borrowness some personal experience in the 'wide, puzzling -subject of compromise.'" -</p> - -<p> -"Compromise!" repeated Doris. "Please don't go out -of your way for that. The magnificent thing about your life -is that there is no occasion for compromise in it. That duty -is reserved for people with benighted old fathers. -Borrowness is somewhere near St Rules, is it not?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," said Mona. "There is only the breadth of the -county between them." -</p> - -<p> -"I know some very nice people there. I shall be proud -to give you an introduction if you like." -</p> - -<p> -"No, no, no, dear," said Mona quickly. "My friends -must be my cousin's friends. Thank you very much all the -same." -</p> - -<p> -"But, Mona, at the end of this miserable six months you -will go on, won't you?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona frowned. "I have not the vaguest idea what I -shall do at the end of the six months," she said. -</p> - -<p> -"You are taking your books with you?" -</p> - -<p> -"Some old classics and German books, nothing more." -</p> - -<p> -"No medical books?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not one." -</p> - -<p> -Doris sighed deeply. -</p> - -<p> -"Don't be so unhappy, dear. I wish with all my heart -you could be a doctor yourself." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, don't talk of that. It is no use. My father never -will give his consent. But you know, dear, I am studying -by proxy. I am living in your life. You must not -fail me." -</p> - -<p> -"You talk as if suffering humanity could scarcely make -shift to get along without me." -</p> - -<p> -"And that is what I think, in a sense. Oh, Mona"—she -drew a long breath, and her face crimsoned—"it is so difficult -to talk of it even to you. A young girl in my Bible-class -went into the Infirmary a few weeks ago—only one -case among many—and you should have heard what she -told me! Of course I know it was only routine treatment. -It would have been the same in any hospital; but that does -not make it any better. She said she would rather die than -go there again. No fate could have been worse." -</p> - -<p> -"Dear Doris! don't you think I know it all? But you -must not say no fate could have been worse. The worst -fate is moral wrong, and there is no moral wrong where our -will is not concerned." -</p> - -<p> -"Wrong!" repeated Doris scornfully. "Moral wrong! Is -it nothing then for a girl to lose her <i>bloom</i>?" Her face was -burning, and her breath came fast. "Young men," she -said, scarcely above a whisper, "and all those -students—mere boys! It drives me mad!" -</p> - -<p> -Mona rose and kissed her. -</p> - -<p> -"Dearest," she said, "you are the <i>preux chevalier</i> of your -sex, and I love you for it with all my heart. I feel the -force of what you say, though one learns in time to be -silent, and not even to think of it more than need be. But -indeed, you make yourself more unhappy than you should. -Some of the young men of whom you speak so scornfully -are truly scientific, and many of them have infinite kindness -of heart." -</p> - -<p> -"Don't let us talk of it. I cannot bear it. But oh, -Mona, go on with your work—<i>go on</i>!" She kissed her -friend almost passionately and left the room. -</p> - -<p> -"There goes," thought Mona, "a woman with a pure -passion for an abstract cause—a woman whose shoe-latchets -I am not worthy to unloose." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap10"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER X. -<br /><br /> -BORROWNESS. -</h3> - -<p> -The next afternoon the grey ponies trotted Mona down -to Granton. -</p> - -<p> -It was strange to find herself on the deck of a steamer -once more; the same experience as that of yesterday, and -yet how different! Yesterday she had been the centre of -her little circle—admired, flattered, indulged by every one; -to-day she was nothing and nobody—a young woman travelling -alone. And yesterday, she kept assuring herself, was -the anomaly, the exception; to-day was in the ordinary -course of things—a fair average sample of life. -</p> - -<p> -It would have been strange if her thoughts had been very -bright ones, and a heavy ground-swell on the Forth did not -tend to make them any brighter. -</p> - -<p> -"It's a cross-water, ye ken," an old countryman was -explaining to a friend. "They say ye might cross the Atlantic, -an' no' get onything waur." -</p> - -<p> -The wind was chill and cutting, and it carried with it an -easterly haar, that seemed to penetrate to Mona's very -marrow. She was thankful when they reached Burntisland, -and she found herself ensconced in a dirty, uncomfortable -third-class carriage. -</p> - -<p> -"If Borrowness is your destination," Mr Colquhoun had -said, "it is not a question of getting there sooner or later; -it is a question of never getting there at all;" and so Mona -began to think, as the train drew up for an indefinite period -at every little station. And yet she was not anxious to -hasten her arrival. The journey from Edinburgh to -Borrowness was short and simple, compared with that which -her mind had to make from the life behind to the life -before. -</p> - -<p> -"I have no right to enter upon it in the spirit of a martyr," -she said to herself, "even if that would make it any easier. -For better or worse it is all my own doing. And I will not -dream the time away in prospects and memories. I will -take up each day with both hands, and live it with all my -might." -</p> - -<p> -The twilight was beginning to gather when at length the -guard shouted "Borrowness!" and Mona sprang to her feet -and looked out. -</p> - -<p> -It was a quiet, dreary, insignificant wayside station. A -few men were lounging about—fisher-folk chiefly—and one -woman. -</p> - -<p> -No, that could not be her cousin Rachel. -</p> - -<p> -During her life in London, Mona had often met an elderly -lady whose dress was sufficiently eccentric to attract -attention even in "blessed Bloomsbury." A short wincey skirt, -a severely uncompromising cloth jacket, and a black mushroom -hat, had formed a startling contrast to the frivolities -in vogue; and, by some curious freak of fancy, a mental -picture of this quaint old lady had always flashed into -Mona's mind when she thought of her cousin. -</p> - -<p> -But the woman on the platform was not like that. Her -face was ruddy and good-natured, and her dress was a -hideous caricature of the fashion of the year before. Every -picturesque puff and characteristic excrescence was burlesqued -to the last point compatible with recognition. Mona might -have met fifty such women in the street, and never have -noticed their attire; but the hang of that skirt, the -showiness of that bonnet, the general want of cut about every -garment, as seen in that first momentary glance, were burnt -into her recollection for a lifetime. -</p> - -<p> -"No doubt, the woman I used to meet in London was a -duchess," she thought a little bitterly, "but this cannot be -my cousin Rachel." -</p> - -<p> -She gave an order to the porter, alighted from the carriage, -and waited—she scarcely knew for what. She was the only -young woman who got out of the train there; so if Rachel -Simpson were anywhere in sight, she must soon identify her -cousin by a process of exclusion. -</p> - -<p> -And so she did. -</p> - -<p> -But she did it very slowly and deliberately, for Mona was -looking rather impressive and alarming in her neat travelling -dress, not at all unlike some of the young ladies who came -to stay at the Towers. -</p> - -<p> -The train puffed away out of the station, and then the -little woman came up with a curious, coy smile on her ruddy -face, her head a little on one side, and an ill-gloved hand -extended. Mona learned afterwards that this was her cousin's -best company manner. -</p> - -<p> -"Miss Maclean?" she said half shyly, half familiarly. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes: I am Mona Maclean. I suppose you are my cousin -Rachel?" -</p> - -<p> -They kissed each other, and then there was an awkward -silence. -</p> - -<p> -Rachel Simpson was thinking involuntarily, with some -satisfaction, that she had seen Mona in a third-class carriage. -She herself usually travelled second, and the knowledge of -this gave her a grateful and much-needed sense of -superiority, as regarded that one particular. She wondered vaguely -whether Mona would object to having been seen under such -disadvantageous circumstances. -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose my luggage arrived about a fortnight ago?" -said Mona, forcing herself to speak heartily. "You were -kind enough to say you would give it house-room. What -shall I do about this little valise?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, the man will bring it to-night. Bill," she said -familiarly to the rough-looking porter, "mind and bring that -little trunk when ye gang hame." -</p> - -<p> -"Ay," said the man, without touching his cap. -</p> - -<p> -Rachel Simpson was one of the many lower middle-class -people in Scotland who talk fairly good English to their -equals and superiors, but who, in addressing their inferiors, -relapse at once into the vernacular. Mona greatly admired -the pure native Scotch, and had looked forward to hearing it -spoken; but her cousin's tone and accent, as she addressed -this man, jarred on her almost unbearably. Mona was striving -hard, too, to blot out a mental picture of Lady Munro, -as she stood on the platform at Newcastle, giving an order -with queenly graciousness to the obsequious porter. -</p> - -<p> -The two cousins walked home together. The road was -very wet with recent rain, and they had to pick their steps -in a way that was not conducive to conversation; but they -talked eagerly about the weather, the crops, the crossing to -Burntisland, and everything else that was most uninteresting. -Mona had never mentioned the Munros nor her visit -to Norway. -</p> - -<p> -In about five minutes they reached the house, and indeed -it was not such a bad little house after all, opening, as it -did, on a tiny, well-kept garden. The two windows on the -ground-floor had of course been sacrificed to the exigencies -of the "shop"; and as they went in, Mona caught a glimpse -of some extraordinary hats and bonnets in one window, and -of dusty stationery and sundry small wares in the other. -</p> - -<p> -"Marshall & Snelgrove and Parkins & Gotto," she said to -herself judicially, "and I suppose Fortnum & Mason, are -represented by those two wooden boxes of sweetmeats beside -the blotting-books." -</p> - -<p> -As they opened the glass door, the automatic shop-bell -rang sharply, and an untidy girl looked out from the -kitchen. -</p> - -<p> -"It's you," she said briefly, and disappeared again. -</p> - -<p> -Rachel Simpson would never have dreamt of giving a -domestic order in the hearing of a visitor, so she went into -the kitchen, and a whispered conversation took place while -Mona waited in the passage. The old-fashioned clock ticked -loudly, and the air was close and redolent of rose-leaves -and mustiness. Evidently open windows were the exception -here, not the rule. The house seemed curiously far -away from the beach, too, considering how small the town -was. -</p> - -<p> -"If I can only catch a glimpse of the sea from my -bedroom window," thought Mona, "I shall be happy in a -garret." -</p> - -<p> -But it was no garret to which her cousin presently conducted -her, nor, alas! did it command a view of the sea. It -was a fair-sized room above the kitchen—a room filled up -with ugly, old-fashioned furniture—and its window -overlooked a wide prospect of cabbage-beds. -</p> - -<p> -"Just come into the front parlour when you get off your -things," said Rachel, "and we'll have a cup of tea." -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you," said Mona pleasantly, and she was left -alone. -</p> - -<p> -She seated herself absently on a chair, and then sprang -suddenly to her feet again. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, you don't suppose you are going to take stock -now," she said to herself savagely. "Wash your hands, and -be quick about it!" -</p> - -<p> -She took the liberty of opening the window first, however. -The upper sash declined to move at all, and the lower one -slipped down again as often as she raised it. In vain she -looked about the room for something to support it. -</p> - -<p> -"Stay open you shall," she said, "if I put my own head -underneath! but I will resort to the Family Bible first," and -her eye rested on the substantial volume that surmounted -the chest of drawers. -</p> - -<p> -Finally, she rolled her travelling cloak into a tight bundle, -and propped up the sash with that. -</p> - -<p> -"A little rain will do you no harm," she said, "and a -little air will do this musty hole a vast deal of good." -</p> - -<p> -She looked about for hot water, but there was none, so -with a shiver she washed in cold. Then after a glance at -the distorting looking-glass, to make sure that her hair was -smooth and her expression tolerably amiable, she betook -herself to the front parlour. -</p> - -<p> -There was no fire in the grate. There never was a fire in -that grate while the white curtains were up, from May to -October. Rachel often indulged in the luxury of sitting by -the kitchen fire when she was alone on a chilly evening, and -had Mona known this she would thankfully have done the -same; but Rachel's "manners" were her strong point, and -she would have been horrified at the idea of suggesting such -a thing to a comparative stranger. When Mona had really -settled down, she could afford to be comfortable again, to use -the old brown teapot, put away the plated spoons, and keep -her Sunday bonnet for Sunday. -</p> - -<p> -In truth the teapot on the table was a wonderful thing, -and Rachel glowed with pride as Mona's eye returned to it -incessantly; but Mona was only thinking vaguely that she -had never before seen one single object—and that not a very -big one—which so absolutely succeeded in setting at defiance -every canon of common decency in art. -</p> - -<p> -But all at once she thought of Rachel's affectionate letters, -and her heart smote her. This woman, with her shop and -all her ugly surroundings, her kind heart and her vulgar -formalities, seemed to Mona so infinitely pathetic that, tired -and overstrained as she was, she bit her lip to keep back a -rush of tears. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you know, dear," she said warmly, "it is very kind -of you to have me here." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I'm only too glad to have you, if you can make -yourself happy." -</p> - -<p> -"No fear of that. Give me a day or two to settle down, -and I shall be as happy as a king." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, it does just take a while to get used to new ways -and new people; but blood is thicker than water, I say. -My niece, now, had settled down wonderfully. She knew all -my ways, and we were so suited to each other. She was a -great hand at the millinery, too; I suppose that's not much -in your line?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona laughed. "I was going to say, like the Irishman, -that I did not know, because I had never tried," she said; -"but I do trim my own summer hats. I should enjoy it -immensely." "And it will go hard with me," she added -to herself, "but I shall eclipse those productions in the -window." -</p> - -<p> -"I am afraid," said Rachel uneasily, "we could not sell -plain things like you had on. It was very nice and useful -and that, of course, but they are all for the feathers and -flowers here." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I should not attempt a hat like mine. It takes -genius to do a really simple thing, don't you think so?" -</p> - -<p> -Rachel laughed, uncertain whether to take the remark in -jest or earnest. "Well, you know," she said doubtfully, "it -is easier to cover a hat up like." -</p> - -<p> -"Very much," agreed Mona. -</p> - -<p> -"And now you must make a good tea, for I am sure you -are hungry after the journey. That's ham and eggs in front -of you, and this is hot buttered toast,—only plain food, you -see. I have made your tea nice and strong; it will do you -more good." -</p> - -<p> -"Farewell, sleep!" thought Mona, as she surveyed the -prospect before her; and it occurred to her that the sound -of champagne, creaming into a shallow glass, was one of the -most delightful things on earth. She blushed violently when -her cousin said a moment later— -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose you are blue-ribbon? Everybody nearly is -now-a-days. It is wonderful how many of the gentry have -stopped having wine on their tables. Nobody needs to have -it now. The one thing is as genteel as the other, and it -makes a great difference to the purse." -</p> - -<p> -"Doesn't it?" said Mona sympathetically, thankful that -no answer had been required to the original question. -"And after all," she thought, "when I am living a life like -that of the cabbages at the back, what do I want with the -'care-breaking luxury'?" -</p> - -<p> -"I hope you don't object to the shop," Rachel went on -presently, <i>à propos</i> apparently of the idea of gentility. "I -don't really need it now, and it never did very much in -the way of business at the best; but I have got used to the -people dropping in, and I would miss it. And you knew -the ladies, the minister's wife and the doctor's wife like, they -come in sometimes and have a cup of tea with me: they -don't think me any the less genteel for keeping a shop. -But I always tell everybody that it is not that I require to -do it. Everybody in Borrowness knows that, and of course -it makes a difference." -</p> - -<p> -"The question of 'gentility,'" said Mona, with a comical -and saving recollection of Lucy's letter, "seems to me to -depend entirely on who does a thing, and the spirit in which -it is done, not on the thing itself." -</p> - -<p> -"That is just it. They all know me, you see, and they -know I am not really caring about the shop at all. Why, -they can see that whiles I lock the door behind me and go -away for a whole day together." -</p> - -<p> -Mona bit her lip and did not attempt an answer this time. -</p> - -<p> -It was still early when she excused herself and went to -her room. She paced up and down for a time, and then -stopped suddenly in front of the looking-glass. It had -become a habit with her, in the course of her lonely life, to -address her own image as if it were another person. -</p> - -<p> -"It is not that it is terrible," she said gravely; "I almost -wish it were; it is just that it is all so deadly commonplace. -Oh, Lucy, I <i>am</i> an abject idiot!" And like the heroines of -the good old days, when advanced women were unknown, -she threw herself on the great four-post bed and burst into a -passion of tears. -</p> - -<p> -The torrent was violent but not prolonged. In a few -minutes she threw away her handkerchief and looked -scornfully at her swollen face. -</p> - -<p> -"After all," she said philosophically, "I suppose a good -howl was the cheapest way of managing the thing in the -long-run. That will be the beginning and the end of it. -<i>Hörst du wohl?</i>—And if it so please you, Mistress Lucy, I -don't regret what I have done one bit, and I would do the -same thing to-morrow." -</p> - -<p> -She curtseyed low to the imaginary Lucy, betook herself -to bed, and in spite of grief, excitement, and anxiety, in spite -of ham and egg, strong tea and hot buttered toast, she slept -like a healthy animal till sunrise. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap11"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XI. -<br /><br /> -THE SHOP. -</h3> - -<p> -No; it was clear that nothing could be done with her -bedroom. That was a case for pure and unmitigated -endurance. Mona felt thankful, as she looked round in the -morning sunshine, that she had not brought with her any of the -pictures and pots and artistic draperies without which young -people find it almost impossible to travel nowadays. The -heavy cumbrous furniture might possibly have been subdued -into insignificance; but any moderately æsthetic colour -would have been drowned in the harsh dominant note shrieked -out by the old-world wall-paper. -</p> - -<p> -She adhered rigidly to her resolution that last night's -"howl" was to be the "beginning and the end of it"; but as -she leaned back on the stiff, hard pillows, her hands clasped -behind her head, she looked the whole situation fairly in the -face. It was not an inviting prospect by any means, but -she was still young and enthusiastic, and resolution was -strong within her. -</p> - -<p> -"Good workmen do good work in any sphere," she -thought, "and bad workmen do bad work in any sphere. It -lies with myself. The game is all in my own hands. Heaven -help me!" -</p> - -<p> -"I hope you slept well," said her cousin, as she entered -the parlour for breakfast. -</p> - -<p> -"I never slept better in my life," said Mona cordially. -</p> - -<p> -"That's right!" and Rachel, who had suffered sundry -qualms of doubt in the small hours of the morning, who had -even drifted within a measurable distance of the appalling -heresy that blood might not always and under all circumstances -be thicker than water, was not a little comforted and -strengthened in her old belief. It did still require an effort -of faith to conceive that she would ever feel as much at her -ease with Mona as she had done with her niece: but then, -on the other hand, Mona was so very stylish—"quite the -lady"; and if she did not prove much of a hand at trimming -bonnets, her manner was certainly cut out for "standing -behind the counter." -</p> - -<p> -"Were you meaning to go out this forenoon?" asked -Rachel. -</p> - -<p> -"I will do whatever you like. I have not made any -plans." -</p> - -<p> -"I was thinking it's such a fine day I might go over to -Kirkstoun—it's only a mile and a quarter from here. Mrs -Smith, a friend of mine there, lost her mother a few weeks -ago, and I've never got to see her since. Her husband's -cousin was married on my sister Jane, so she won't think it -very neighbourly my never going near her." -</p> - -<p> -"How very unpleasant for Jane!" was Mona's first -thought. "I hope her husband's cousin was not very -heavy;" but aloud she said— -</p> - -<p> -"And you would like me to sit in the shop while you are -away? I will, with pleasure. It will be quite amusing." -</p> - -<p> -"No, you don't need to sit in the shop. As like as not -nobody will be in; but you never can tell. You can sit at -the window in the front parlour, and watch the people -passing, and if the bell rings you'll be sure to hear it. If -there does anybody come, Sally can tell you the price of -anything you don't know." -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you." -</p> - -<p> -"Of course, I might take you with me and lock the door, -or leave Sally to mind the shop. I'm sure Mrs Smith would -be delighted to see you at any other time, but she being in -affliction like——" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, of course. She would much rather have you to -herself. Anybody would under the circumstances." -</p> - -<p> -"That's just it. If the weather keeps up so that we can -wear our best things, I'll take you round to call on all my -friends next week. There's really no pleasure in it when -you've to tuck up your dress and take off your waterproof at -every door." -</p> - -<p> -"That is very true," said Mona cordially. "There is no -pleasure in wearing pretty things unless one can do it in -comfort; and when I don my best bib and tucker, I like to -show them to advantage. I am afraid, though," she added, -with real regret, "I have not got a dress you will care for -much." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I daresay you'll do very well. The great thing is -to look the lady." -</p> - -<p> -They went on with breakfast in silence, but presently -Rachel resumed— -</p> - -<p> -"I daresay you'd like to go out on the braes, or down on -the beach this afternoon. Now I wonder if there is any one -could go with you? There's Mary Jane Anderson across -the way; she's always ready to oblige me, but they've a -dressmaker in the house just now." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I think we won't trouble Miss Anderson this afternoon, -thank you, dear. I love to explore new places for -myself, and I will give you all my original impressions when -I come in. I can't tell you what a treat it is to me to live -by the sea. I am sure I should find it company enough at -any time." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, it's a great thing to be easily pleased. My -dear"—Rachel hesitated—"if anybody should come in, you won't -say anything about your meaning to be a doctor?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona was much amused. "I should never even think of -such a thing," she said. "You may depend upon me, cousin -Rachel, not to mention the fact to any one so long as I am -with you." -</p> - -<p> -They rose from the table, and after a great deal of preparation -Rachel set out in her "best things," without fear of rain. -</p> - -<p> -"Mind you make yourself comfortable," she said, reopening -the door after she had closed it behind her. "I daresay -you'll like the rocking-chair, and you'll find some bound -volumes of the <i>Sunday at Home</i> in the parlour." -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you," said Mona; "I do like a rocking-chair -immensely." -</p> - -<p> -The first thing she did, however, when her cousin was -gone, was to get half-a-dozen strong pieces of firewood from -Sally, and prop open all the windows in the house. Then -she proceeded to make a prolonged and leisurely survey of -the shop. -</p> - -<p> -Accustomed as she was to shopping in London, where the -large and constant turnover, the regular "clearing sales," -and the unremitting competition, combine to keep the goods -fresh and modern, where the smallest crease or dust-mark on -any article is a sufficient reason for a substantial reduction -in its price, she was simply appalled at the crushed, dusty, -expensive, old-fashioned goods that formed the greater part -of her cousin's stock-in-trade. -</p> - -<p> -"I shudder to think what these things may have cost to -begin with," she said, straightening herself up at last with a -heavy sigh; "but I should like to see the person who would -take the whole thing, lock, stock, and barrel, in exchange for -a five-pound note!" -</p> - -<p> -She had just come to this conclusion when the shop-bell -rang, and an elderly woman came in. -</p> - -<p> -"Good morning," said Mona pleasantly. -</p> - -<p> -The woman stared. She did not wish to be rude, but on -the other hand she did not wish to be ridiculous, and such -gratuitous civility from a stranger, in the discharge of an -everyday matter of business, seemed to her nothing short of -that; so she was silent. -</p> - -<p> -"A yard o' penny elastic," she said, when she had sufficiently -recovered from her surprise to speak. -</p> - -<p> -Mona bowed, and took down the box from its place on the -shelf. -</p> - -<p> -"If ye've no' got onything better than ye had the last -time," continued the woman, looking suspiciously at the -battered pasteboard box, "I'll no trouble ye. It lookit weel -eneuch, but it a' gaed intae bits the meenit it was touched." -</p> - -<p> -Mona examined the contents of the box critically. -</p> - -<p> -"I certainly cannot recommend this," she said. "It's too -old. We"—she suppressed a laugh that nearly choked -her, as she found the familiar expression on her lips—"we -shall be getting some in next week." -</p> - -<p> -"It's twa month sin' I got the last," said the woman -severely. "It doesna seem vera business-like tae be sellin' -the same stuff yet." -</p> - -<p> -"That is true," said Mona frankly. "It must have been -overlooked. I suppose there are other shops in the town -where you can get what you want. If not, you can depend -on getting it here this day week. Can I show you anything -else?" "Not that there is a single thing in the shop I can -show with much satisfaction to myself," she added mentally. -</p> - -<p> -The woman frowned. -</p> - -<p> -"I want some knittin'-needles the size o' that," she said, -laying a half-finished stocking on the counter. -</p> - -<p> -Mona drew a long breath of relief. Knitting-needles -could not go bad like elastic; and if they were rusty, she -could rub them up with emery-paper. -</p> - -<p> -She opened the box with considerable satisfaction, but to her -dismay she found needles of all sizes mixed up in inextricable -confusion, and the bit of notched metal with which she -had seen shopkeepers determine the size was missing. She -knew this exacting old woman would never allow her to -depend on her eye, and she hunted here, there, and everywhere, -in vain. She preserved her calmness outwardly, but her -forehead was moist with anxiety, when at length, mere by -good luck than good guidance, she opened the cash-drawer -and found in it the missing gauge. Poor Mona! She -experienced the same sense of relief that she had sometimes -felt in the anatomy-room, when a nerve, of which she had -given up all hope, appeared sound and entire in her dissection. -</p> - -<p> -With some difficulty she found four needles of the same -size, and wrapping them neatly in paper, she gave them to -her customer. She was proceeding to open the door, but the -old woman seemed to have something more to say. -</p> - -<p> -"I aye like to gie my custom to Miss Simpson," she said, -"But what like way is this tae manage? And ye seem tae -be new tae the business yersel'." -</p> - -<p> -"I am," said Mona, "but I am very willing to learn. If -you will have a little patience, you will find that in time I -shall improve." -</p> - -<p> -She spoke with absolute sincerity. She had forgotten -that her life stretched out beyond the limits of this narrow -shop; she felt herself neither more nor less than what she -was at the moment—a very inefficient young shopkeeper. -</p> - -<p> -"Weel, there's nae sayin'. I'll be back this day week for -that elastic;" and Mona bowed her first customer out. -</p> - -<p> -She stood for a minute or two, with her eyes fixed on the -floor, in a brown study. -</p> - -<p> -"Well," she said at last, "if any lady or gentleman thinks -that shopkeeping is child's-play, I am prepared to show that -lady or gentleman a thing or two!" -</p> - -<p> -She had scarcely seated herself behind the counter, when -the bell rang again, and this time the customer appeared to -be a servant-girl. In spite of her tawdry dress, Mona took -a fancy to her face at once, the more so as it did not seem to -bespeak a very critical mind. In fact, it was the customer -who was ill at ease on this occasion, and who waited shyly -to be spoken to. -</p> - -<p> -"What can I do for you?" asked Mona. -</p> - -<p> -"I want a new haat." -</p> - -<p> -Only for one moment had Mona thoughts of referring her -to the nearest clergyman. Then she realised the situation. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh!" she said. This was still a heavy responsibility. -"Do you know exactly what you want, or would you like to -see what we can suggest?" -</p> - -<p> -"I'd like tae see what ye've got." -</p> - -<p> -"Is the hat for week-days or for Sundays?" -</p> - -<p> -"For the Sabbath. Miss Simpson had some big red roses -in the window a while back. I thocht ane or twa o' them -wad gang vera weel wi' this feather." -</p> - -<p> -Mona took the small paper parcel in her hand, and gave -her attention as completely to its contents as she had ever -done to a microscopic section. It had been an ostrich-feather -at some period of its existence, but it bore more -resemblance to a herring-bone now. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," she said tentatively. "The feather would have to -be done up. But don't you think it is rather a pity to have -both flowers and feathers in one hat?" -</p> - -<p> -The girl looked aghast. This was heresy indeed. -</p> - -<p> -"The feather's gey thin by itsel'," she said, "but if it was -half covered up wi' the flowers, it'd look more dressed like." -</p> - -<p> -Mona looked at the feather, then at the girl, and then she -relapsed into profound meditation. -</p> - -<p> -"Are you a servant?" she asked presently. -</p> - -<p> -"Ay." -</p> - -<p> -"Here in Borrowness?" -</p> - -<p> -"Na; I've come in for the day tae see my mither. I'm -scullery-maid at the Towers." -</p> - -<p> -"What a pass things must have come to," thought Mona, -"that even a scullery-maid should be allowed to dress like -this in a good house!" -</p> - -<p> -"The Towers!" she said aloud. "You have been very -lucky to get into such a place. Why, if you do your best to -learn all you can, you will be a first-rate cook some day." -</p> - -<p> -The girl beamed. -</p> - -<p> -"You know," Mona went on reflectively, "a really first-class -London servant would think it beneath her to wear -either feathers or flowers. She would have a neat little -bonnet like this"—she picked out one of the few desirable -articles in the shop—"and she would have it plainly -trimmed with a bit of good ribbon or velvet—so!" -</p> - -<p> -She twisted a piece of velvet round the front of the -bonnet and put it on her own head. Surmounting her trim -gown, with its spotless collar and cuffs, the bonnet looked -very well, and to Mona's great surprise it appealed even to -the crude taste of her customer. -</p> - -<p> -"It's gey stylish," said the girl, "an' I suppose it'd come -a deal cheaper?" -</p> - -<p> -"No," said Mona. "It would not come any cheaper at -the moment, if you get a good straw; but it would last as -long as half-a-dozen hats with flowers and feathers. You -see, it's like this," she went on, leaning forward on the -counter in her earnestness, "you want to look like the ladies at -the Towers. Well, it is very natural that you should; we -all want to look like the people we admire. The ladies have -good things, and plenty of them; but that requires money, -and those of us who have not got much money must be -content to be like them in one way or the other,—we must -either have good things or plenty of things. A <i>common</i> -servant buys cheap satins, and flowers and laces that look -shabby in a week. No one mistakes her for a lady, and she -does not look like a good servant. A really first-class maid, -as I said before, gets a few good simple things, that wear a -long time, and she looks—well—a great deal more like a -lady than the other does!" -</p> - -<p> -The girl hesitated. "I daursay I'd get mair guid o' the -bannet," she said. -</p> - -<p> -"I am sure you would. But I don't want you to decide -in a hurry. Take time to think it over." -</p> - -<p> -"Na, I'll tak' the bannet." -</p> - -<p> -Then ensued a discussion of details, and at last the girl -prepared to go. -</p> - -<p> -"And when you are getting a new dress," said Mona, -"get one that will go well with the bonnet—a plain dark-blue -or black serge. You will never tire of that, and you -have no idea how nice you will look in it." -</p> - -<p> -The girl looked admiringly at Mona's own simple gown, -and went away smiling. -</p> - -<p> -"If all my customers were like that," thought Mona, "I -should be strongly inclined to pitch my tent in Borrowness -for the rest of my natural life." -</p> - -<p> -Truly, it never rains but it pours. Scarcely had Mona closed -the door on customer Number Two, when customer Number -Three appeared, and customer Number Three was a man. -</p> - -<p> -"Good morning," he said courteously. -</p> - -<p> -"Good morning, sir." -</p> - -<p> -"I wonder if you have got such a thing as a really good -piece of india-rubber." -</p> - -<p> -Mona took some in from the window, but it was hard and -brittle. -</p> - -<p> -"That is of no use," she said, "but I have some more -upstairs." -</p> - -<p> -A few months before, in Tottenham Court Road, she had, -as Lucy expressed it, "struck a rich vein of india-rubber," -pliable, elastic, and neatly bevelled into dainty pieces. Mona -had been busy with some fine histological drawings at the -time, and had laid in a small stock, a sample of which she -now produced. -</p> - -<p> -"I think you will find that quite satisfactory," she said, -quietly putting pencil and paper before him. -</p> - -<p> -He tried it. -</p> - -<p> -"Why, I never had such a piece of india-rubber in my life -before," he said, looking up in surprise, and their eyes met -with one of those rare sympathetic smiles which are sometimes -called forth by a common appreciation of even the -most trivial things. -</p> - -<p> -"I am taking advantage of a holiday to make some diagrams," -he went on, "and, when one is in a hurry, bread is -a very poor makeshift for india-rubber." -</p> - -<p> -<i>Diagrams!</i> The word sounded like an old friend. Mona -quite longed to know what they were—botanical? anatomical? -physiological? She merely assented in a word, however, -and with another courteous "Good morning" he went -away. -</p> - -<p> -"A nice shopkeeper I make," she said scornfully. "Firstly, -I promise to get in new goods without knowing that the -proceeding is practicable. Secondly, I undertake to make a -bonnet, which will doubtless prove to be entirely beyond my -powers. Thirdly, I give an estimate for said bonnet, which -won't allow sixpence for the trouble of trimming. Fourthly, -I sell a piece of my own india-rubber without so much as a -farthing of profit. No, my dear girl, it must be frankly -admitted that, on to-day's examination, you have made -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap12"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XII. -<br /><br /> -CASTLE MACLEAN. -</h3> - -<p> -The sunlight broke and sparkled on the sea, and all the -flowering grasses on the braes were dancing in the wind. -Numberless rugged spurs of rock, crossing the strip of sand -and shingle, stretched out into the water, and the long trails -of <i>Fucus</i> fell and rose with the ebb and flow of every wave. -</p> - -<p> -Mona was half intoxicated with delight. The mid-day -dinner had been rather a trial to her. The "silver" was far -from bright, and the crystal was far from clear; and although -the table-cloth was clean, it might to all intents and purposes -have been a sheet, so little pretension did it make to its -proper gloss and sheen. It seemed incredible that, within -little more than a stone's-throw of the dusty shop and the -musty parlour, there should be such a world of freshness, -and openness, and beauty. No need for any one to grow -petty and narrow-minded here, when a mere "Open Sesame" -was sufficient to bring into view this great, glowing, -bountiful Nature. -</p> - -<p> -"It is mine, mine, mine," she said to herself. "Nobody -in all the world can take it from me." And she sang softly -to music of her own— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "'Tis heaven alone that is given away,<br /> - 'Tis only God may be had for the asking."<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -This stretch of breezy coast meant for her all that the secret -passage to the <i>abbé's</i> cell meant for Monte Christo—knowledge, -and wisdom, and companionship, and untold treasures. -</p> - -<p> -A little distance off, a great column of rock rose abruptly -from the beach, and Mona found to her delight that, with a -little easy scrambling, she could reach the summit by means -of a rude natural staircase at one side. On the top the -rocks were moulded by rain and wave into nooks and hollows, -and there was a fairy carpet of small shells and shingle, -sea-campions and thrift. In front of her, for leagues and -leagues, stretched the rippling, dazzling sea; behind rose the -breezy braes; and away to the left the afternoon sun shone -on the red roofs, and was flashed back from the museum -windows and weather-cocks of Kirkstoun. Mona selected a -luxurious arm-chair, and ensconced herself comfortably for -the afternoon. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -The old clock was striking five when she entered the -house. -</p> - -<p> -"I do hope I am not late for tea," she said. "I have had -such a lovely time!" -</p> - -<p> -"I see that," said Rachel, smiling involuntarily as her -eyes fell on the bright glowing face. "Get off your things, -and come away." -</p> - -<p> -"And look, I found a treasure," said Mona re-entering, -"some Bloody Cranesbill." -</p> - -<p> -"Eh? Is that what you call it? It's a queer-like name. -It's gey common about here. You'll find plenty of it by the -roadside among the fields." -</p> - -<p> -"Really? Or do you mean the Meadow Cranesbill? It -is very like this, but purpler, and it has two flowers on each -stalk instead of one." -</p> - -<p> -As Rachel belonged to that large section of the community -which would be wholly at a loss for a reply if asked whether -a primrose and a buttercup had four petals or six, she -remained discreetly silent. -</p> - -<p> -But, curiously enough, Mona's childlike and unaffected -delight in the sea and the flowers set her cousin more nearly -at ease than anything had done yet. -</p> - -<p> -"After all," she thought, "it's a great thing for a town-bred -girl to stay in the country for a change, and with her -own flesh and blood too. She must have been dull enough, -poor thing, alone in London." -</p> - -<p> -"When you want to get rid of me for a whole day," said -Mona presently, "I mean to go off on a botanising excursion -round the coast. I am sure there must be lots of treasures -blushing unseen." -</p> - -<p> -"We'll do something better than that," said Rachel, after -a moment's hesitation as to whether the occasion were worthy -of a trump-card. "Some fine day, if we are spared, we'll -take the coach to St Rules, and see all the sights. There's -a shop in South Street where we can get pies and lemonade, -and we'll have an egg to our tea when we come back." -</p> - -<p> -"I should dearly like to see St Rules," said Mona. "I -have heard of the sea-girt castle all my life; and the -prospect of an 'egg to my tea' is a great additional attraction. -I cannot tell you all the gala memories of childhood that -the idea calls up—picnics in pine-woods, and break-neck -scrambles, and all sorts of adventures." -</p> - -<p> -She did not add that "pies and lemonade" were not a -part of those gala memories; but in truth the idea of -lunching "genteelly" with Rachel, on that squalid fare in a shop, -depressed her as few hardships could have done. -</p> - -<p> -"What are you in the way of taking to your supper in -London?" asked Rachel. "I usually have porridge myself, -but it's not everybody that can take them." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, let us have porridge by all means! I believe the -two characteristics by which you can always diagnose a -Scotchman are a taste for porridge and a keen appreciation -of the bagpipes. I mean to prove worthy of my nationality." -</p> - -<p> -"And do you like them thick or thin?" -</p> - -<p> -"The bagpipes? Oh, the porridge! The question seems -to be a momentous one, and unless I leave it to you, I must -decide in the dark. I imagine—it would be safer to say -thin." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, I always take them thin myself," said Rachel, in -a tone of relief; "but some people—you'd wonder!—they -like them that thick that a spoon will stand up in the -middle! It's curious how tastes differ, but it takes all sorts -to make a world, they say." -</p> - -<p> -"Verily," said Mona earnestly. "But now I must tell -you about my customers. You have not even asked whether -I had any, and I assure you I had a most exciting time." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, I never! Was there anybody in? I was that -taken up with Mrs Smith, you see, poor body!" -</p> - -<p> -"Of course. But now you must know in the first place -that I had three, whole, live customers," and Mona -proceeded to give a pretty full account of the experiences of -the morning. -</p> - -<p> -"That would be Mistress Dickson—I ken fine," said -Rachel, relapsing in her excitement into the Doric, "a -fractious, fault-finding body. I'm sure she may take her -custom elsewhere, and welcome, for me. I never heard the -like. She aye has an eye to a good bargain, and if I say I -make sixpence profit out of her in a twelvemonth, it's more -likely above the mark than below it." -</p> - -<p> -"That I can quite believe," said Mona; "but you know, -dear, the elastic had perished, and she was quite right to -complain of that. We must get some fresh in the course of -the week." -</p> - -<p> -"Hoot awa! We'll do nothing of the sort. If the -traveller comes round between this and then, we'll take -some off him, but I'll not stir a foot to oblige old Betsy -Dickson. She knows quite well that I don't need to keep -the shop." -</p> - -<p> -"But, dear,"—Mona seated herself on a stool at her -cousin's feet, and laid her white hand on the wrinkled red -one,—"I don't see that requiring to keep the shop has -anything to do with it. If we keep it at all, surely we ought -to keep it really well." -</p> - -<p> -"And who says I don't keep it well? Nobody heeds old -Betsy and her grumbling. Everything I buy is the best of -its kind; not the tawdry stuff you get in the London shops, -that's only got up to sell. You don't know a good tape and -stay-lace when you see them, or I wouldn't need to tell you -that." -</p> - -<p> -"I am quite sure of it. But you know, dear, you can get -good things as well as bad in the London shops, and you can -get them fresh and wonderfully cheap. The next time you -want a good many things, I wish you would let me go to -London for them. I am sure at the Stores and some other places -I know, I could make better bargains than you can with your -traveller; and I would bring a lot of those dainty novelties -that people expect to pay dear for in the provinces. We -would make our little shop the talk of the country-side." -</p> - -<p> -"Hoot, havers, lassie!" laughed Rachel, no more entertaining -the idea than if Mona had suggested a voyage to the -North Pole. "Why, I declare," she added, with a renewal -of that agreeable sense of superiority, "you're not like me; -you're a born shopkeeper after all! But who else was in?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona drew a long face. "There was a <i>man</i>," she said, -with mock solemnity. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh! I wonder who it would be? What like was he?" -</p> - -<p> -"Tall," said Mona, ticking off his various attributes on -the fingers of her left hand, "thin, ugly, lanky. In -fact,"—she broke off with a laugh,—"in spite of his height, he -conveyed a general impression to my mind of what one of -our lecturers describes as 'failure to attain the anatomical -and physiological ideal.' He was loosely hung together like -a cheap clothes-horse, and he wore his garments in much -the same fashion that a clothes-horse does." (This, as her -customer's tailor could have certified, was most unjust. A -vivid recollection of the Sahib was making Mona -hypercritical.) "The down of manhood had not settled on his -upper lip with what you could call luxuriance; he wore -spectacles——" -</p> - -<p> -"Spectacles!" repeated Rachel, alighting with relief on -a bit of firm foothold in a stretch of quicksand. "You -don't mean—was he a <i>gentleman</i>?" -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose so. Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh! I might have gone on guessing for an hour. You -said he was a <i>man</i>." -</p> - -<p> -"God made him, and so I was prepared to let him pass -for one, as Portia says. Did you think the term was too -complimentary?" -</p> - -<p> -Rachel laughed. "Had he on a suit of dark-blue serge?" -</p> - -<p> -"Now you suggest it, I believe he had." -</p> - -<p> -"And had he a pleasant frank-like way with him?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"It would be Dr Dudley. What was he wanting here?" -</p> - -<p> -"India-rubber." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, I am sure there was plenty of that. I got a -boxful years and years ago, and nobody has been asking -for it at all lately." -</p> - -<p> -"I should imagine not," thought Mona. "Once bit, -twice shy." -</p> - -<p> -"Is he the resident doctor?" she asked. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh no! He does not belong to these parts. He comes -from London. When you were going down to the braes, -did you notice a big white house with a large garden and -a lodge, just at the beginning of the Kirkstoun road?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes—a fine house." -</p> - -<p> -"His old aunt lives there—Mistress Hamilton. She -used to come here just for the summer, and bring a number -of visitors with her; but latterly she has stayed here most -of the time, unless when she is ordered to some Spa or -other. She says no air agrees with her like this. He is -her heir. She makes a tremendous work with him; I -believe he is the only living thing she cares for in the -world. He mostly spends his holidays with her, and whiles, -when she's more ailing than usual, he comes down from -London on the Friday night, and goes up again on the -Sunday night." -</p> - -<p> -"He can't have a very large practice in London, surely, -if he can do that." -</p> - -<p> -"He's not rightly practising at all, yet. He has been -a doctor for some years, but he is studying for something -else. I don't understand it myself. But he is very clever; -he gave me some powders that cured my rheumatism in a few -days, when Dr Burns had been working away half the winter -with lotions and fomentations, and lime-juice, and——" -</p> - -<p> -"——alkalies," thought Mona. "Much more scientific -treatment than the empirical use of salicin." -</p> - -<p> -For Mona was young and had never suffered from -rheumatism. -</p> - -<p> -"——and bandages and that," concluded Rachel. "It's -some time now since I've seen him. His aunt has been -away at Strathpeffer all the summer, and the house has -been shut up." -</p> - -<p> -"But I have still another customer to account for;" -and in some fear and trembling, Mona told the story of -the scullery-maid and her bonnet. -</p> - -<p> -"My word!" said Rachel, "you gave yourself a deal of -trouble. I don't see that it matters what they wear, and -the hats pay better. Young folks will be young, you know, -and for my part I don't see why May should go like -December." -</p> - -<p> -Mona sighed. "Perhaps I was wrong," she said; "I -don't think it is a common fault of mine to be too ready -to interfere with other people; but the girl looked so quiet -and sensible, in spite of her trumpery clothes. Servants -never used to dress like that; but perhaps, like a child, -I have been building a little sand-dyke to prevent the -tide from coming in." -</p> - -<p> -"What I can't see is, why you should trouble yourself -about what they wear. One would think, to hear you -talk, that it was a question of honesty or religion like." -</p> - -<p> -Mona sighed again, and then laughed a little bitterly. -"No doubt the folks here could instruct me in matters -of honesty and religion," she said; "but I did fancy -this morning that I could teach that child a thing or -two about her bonnet." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, well, I daresay she'll be in on Monday morning -to say she's thought better of it." -</p> - -<p> -There was a long silence, and then Rachel went on, "My -dear, how ever did you come by that extraordinary name? -I never heard the like of it. They called your mother -Margaret, didn't they?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, Margaret is my own second name, but I never -use it. So long as a name is distinctive, the shorter it -is, the better." -</p> - -<p> -"H'm. It would have been a deal wiser-like if you'd -left out the Mona. I can't bring it over my tongue at all." -</p> - -<p> -And in fact, as long as Mona lived with her cousin, she -was constrained to answer to the appellation of "my dear." -</p> - -<p> -"My dear," said Rachel now, "I don't think I ever heard -what church you belong to." -</p> - -<p> -Mona started. "I was brought up in the Church of -England," she said. -</p> - -<p> -"Surely your father never belonged to the Church of -England?" -</p> - -<p> -"He usually attended the church service out in India -with my mother. I don't think he considered himself, -strictly speaking, a member of any individual church, -although he was a very religious man." -</p> - -<p> -"Ay. I've heard that he wasn't exactly sound." -</p> - -<p> -"I fancy he would be considered absolutely sound -now-a-days,— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'For in this windy world,<br /> - What's up is faith, what's down is heresy.'"<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Rachel looked puzzled. "Oh!" she said with sudden -comprehension. "No, no, you mustn't say that. Truth -is always the same." -</p> - -<p> -"From the point of view of Deity, no doubt; but to -us poor 'minnows in the creek' every wave is practically a -fresh creation." -</p> - -<p> -"I wish you'd been brought up a Baptist," said Rachel -uneasily. "It's all so simple and definite, and there's -Scripture for everything we believe. You must have a -talk with the minister. He's a grand Gospel preacher, -and great at discussions on Baptist principles." -</p> - -<p> -"Dear cousin," said Mona, "five years ago I should have -enjoyed nothing better than such a discussion, but it seems -to me now that silence is best. The faith we argue about is -rarely the faith we live by; and if it is—so much the worse -for our lives." -</p> - -<p> -"But how are we to learn any better if we don't talk?" -</p> - -<p> -"Surely it is by silence that we learn the best things. It -was from the loneliness of the Mount that Moses brought -down the tables of stone." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't see what that has to do with it. There's many -a one in the town has been brought round to sound Baptist -principles by a sermon, or an argument on the subject. I -believe you've no notion, my dear, how the whole Bible, -looked at in the right way, points to the fact that the -Baptists hold the true doctrine and practice. There's Philip -and the Eunuch, and the Paschal Lamb—no, that's the plan -of salvation,—and the passage of the Red Sea, and the true -meaning of the Greek word translated 'baptise.' We'd a -missionary preaching here last Sabbath, and he said he had -not the smallest doubt that China, in common with the -whole world, would eventually become Baptist. That was -how he put it—'eventually become Baptist.'" -</p> - -<p> -'"A consummation devoutly to be wished,' no doubt," -said Mona, "but did the missionary point out in what -respect the world would be the 'forrader'?" -</p> - -<p> -A moment later she would have given anything to recall -the words. They had slipped out almost involuntarily, and -besides, she had never lived in a Dissenting circle, and she -had no conception how very real Rachel's Baptist principles -were to her, nor how she longed to witness the surprise of -the "many mighty and many wise," when, contrary to their -expectations, they beheld the whole world "eventually -become Baptist." -</p> - -<p> -"Forgive me, dear," said Mona. "I did not mean to -hurt you, I am only stupid; I don't understand these -things." -</p> - -<p> -"To my mind," said Rachel severely, "obedience to the -revealed will of God is none the less a duty because our -salvation does not actually depend upon it,—though I doubt -not some difference will be made, at the last day, between -those who saw His will and those who shut their eyes and -hardened their hearts. I have a very low opinion of the -Church of England myself, and Mr Stuart says the same." -</p> - -<p> -"Have you a Baptist Church here in Borrowness?" asked -Mona, thinking it well to change the subject. -</p> - -<p> -"No; though there are a good few Baptists. We walk -over to Kirkstoun. I suppose you will be going to sit under -Mr Ewing?" -</p> - -<p> -"Who is he?" -</p> - -<p> -"The English Church minister. His chapel is near Mrs -Hamilton's house. He has not got the root of the matter -in him at all. He's a good deal taken up by the gentry at -the Towers; and he raises prize poultry,—queer-like -occupation for a minister." -</p> - -<p> -"If it will give you any pleasure," said Mona, with rash -catholicity, "I will go to church with you every Sunday -morning." -</p> - -<p> -Rachel's rubicund face beamed. -</p> - -<p> -"You will find it very quiet, after the fashionable service -you're used to," she said; "but you'll hear the true Word -of God there." -</p> - -<p> -"That is saying much," said Mona rather drearily; "but -I don't go to a fashionable church in London;" and a -pang of genuine home-sickness shot through her heart, as -she thought of the dear, barn-like old chapel in Bloomsbury, -whither she had gone Sunday after Sunday in search -of "beautiful thoughts." -</p> - -<p> -"You tactless brute," she said to herself as she set her -candlestick on the dressing-table that evening, "if you have -only come here to tread on that good soul's corns, the sooner -you tramp back to London the better." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap13"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XIII. -<br /><br /> -THE CHAPEL. -</h3> - -<p> -The next morning the sun rose into a cloudless blue sky, -and Mona found herself looking forward with pleasure to -the walk into Kirkstoun. The road lay along the coast, and -was separated from the sea by a stretch of yellow corn-fields. -The inland scenery was flat and tame, but, after the massive -grandeur of Norway, Mona's eye rested with quiet satisfaction -on the smiling acres, cut into squares, like a giant's -chess-board, by scraggy hedges and lichen-grown dykes. -</p> - -<p> -They had gone about half-way, when a pleasant voice -behind them said, "Good morning, Miss Simpson." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, good morning, doctor! My dear, this is Dr Dudley." -</p> - -<p> -He lifted his hat and accommodated his long ramshackle -stride to Rachel's podgy steps. -</p> - -<p> -"How goes the rheumatism?" he asked. -</p> - -<p> -"It's wonderful, doctor. Whenever I feel a twinge, I -get the chemist to make me up some of those powders of -yours, and they work like magic." -</p> - -<p> -"That's right. You will give me a testimonial, won't -you?" -</p> - -<p> -"That I will, with all my heart. But you are surely -forsaking Mr Ewing this morning? What will he say to -that?" -</p> - -<p> -"Even so, Miss Simpson. Fortunately, Mr Ewing is not -touchy on that score. Your Mr Stuart asked me with -charming frankness to come and hear him, so I am taking -the first opportunity of accepting his invitation." -</p> - -<p> -"I'm glad to hear it. You will hear a very different -sermon to one of Mr Ewing's." -</p> - -<p> -He laughed. "Mr Ewing is not a Chrysostom," he said, -"but he is a good fellow and a gentleman, and in that -capacity I think he has a distinctly refining influence on -his people." -</p> - -<p> -"No doubt, doctor; but don't you think it is better to -have the water of life in an earthen vessel——?" -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, yes," he said, with sudden seriousness. "If you -give us the water of life, we won't stop to criticise the bowl." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, you wait till you hear Mr Stuart." -</p> - -<p> -An almost imperceptible smile played about his mouth. -He glanced at Mona, and found her eyes fixed on his face; -but she looked away instantly. She would not be guilty of -the disloyalty to Rachel involved in the subtlest voluntary -glance of comprehension; but her face was a very eloquent -one, and his short-sighted eyes were quick. -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Que diable allait-elle faire dans cette galère?</i>" he thought. -</p> - -<p> -"My dear," said Rachel to Mona, in that mysterious tone -invariably assumed by some people when they speak of things -sacred, "we always have the Communion after the morning -service. Were you meaning to stay?" -</p> - -<p> -"You would not have me, would you?" -</p> - -<p> -"You'd wonder." Rachel raised her voice. "We're very -wide. Mr Stuart has got into trouble with several other -ministers in the Union for his liberality. He says he will -turn away no man who is a converted Christian." -</p> - -<p> -Dr Dudley's eyes sparkled. "I should have thought a -converted pagan would be even dearer to Stuart's heart." -</p> - -<p> -"So he would, so he would, doctor. You know what I -mean. Mr Stuart says the simple name Christian is not -sufficient nowadays, because so many folks who call -themselves by that name fight shy of the word 'converted.'" -</p> - -<p> -Again Dr Dudley glanced at Mona, but this time she was -on her guard. -</p> - -<p> -"I think it is one of the grandest words I know," she said -proudly, looking straight in front of her. "But I think I -won't stay to-day, dear, thank you. Shall I wait for you?" -</p> - -<p> -"Please yourself, my dear, please yourself. There's always -quite a party of us walks home together." -</p> - -<p> -They had entered the quaint old town, and were greeted -by a strong smell of fish and of sea-weed, as they descended -a steep angular street to the shore. Here a single row of -uneven shops and tenements faced the harbour, alive to-day -with the rich tints and picturesque outlines of well-patched -canvas sails; and brown-faced, flaxen-haired babies basked -on the flags at the mouths of the closes. A solitary gig was -rattling over the stones, with a noise and stir quite -disproportionate to its size and importance; and the natives, Bible -in hand, were quietly discussing the last haul of herring on -their way to the kirk. -</p> - -<p> -Rachel led the way up another steep little hill, away from -the sea; and they entered the dark, narrow, sunless street, -where the chapel stood in well-to-do simplicity, opposite a -large and odoriferous tannery. -</p> - -<p> -The interior of the chapel opened up another new corner -of the world for Mona. Fresh paint and varnish and crimson -cushions gave a general impression of smug respectability, -and half the congregation had duly assembled in Sunday -attire; the women in well-preserved Paisley shawls and -purple bonnet-strings, the little girls in blue ribbons and -pink roses, and the boys severely superior in uncompromising, -ill-fitting Sabbath suits, with an extra supply of "grease" -on their home-cropped hair. Already there was a distinct -suspicion of peppermint in the atmosphere, and the hymn-books -and Bibles on the book-boards were interspersed with -stray marigolds and half-withered sprigs of southernwood. -</p> - -<p> -There was nothing remarkable about either service or -sermon. The latter was a fair average specimen of thousands -that were being delivered throughout the country at the same -moment. Those in sympathy with the preacher would have -found something to admire—those out of sympathy, something -to smile at; probably there was not a single word that -would have surprised or startled any one. -</p> - -<p> -The sun became very hot about noon. The air in the -chapel grew closer and closer, the varnish on the pews more -and more sticky, and the smell of peppermint stronger every -minute. A small boy beside Mona fell asleep immediately -after the first hymn; and, but for the constant intervention -of Dr Dudley, who sat behind, a well-oiled little head would -have fallen on her arm a dozen times in the course of the -service. She was thankful that she had not promised to -wait for Rachel, and as soon as the benediction had been -pronounced, she escaped into the fresh air like an uncaged -bird. -</p> - -<p> -She had not walked far before she was overtaken by Dr -Dudley. -</p> - -<p> -"Well," he said, "you will be glad to hear that the -india-rubber has been doing yeoman service." -</p> - -<p> -Mona bowed without replying. She was annoyed with -him for entering into conversation with her in this -matter-of-course way. No doubt he thought that a shop-girl would -be only too much flattered by his condescension. -</p> - -<p> -But Dudley was thinking more of her face than of her -silence. One did not often see a face like that. He had -been watching it all through the sermon, and it tempted him -to go on. -</p> - -<p> -"Pathetic soul, that," he said. -</p> - -<p> -"Mr Stuart?" asked Mona indifferently. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes. He is quite a study to me when I come down here. -He is struggling out of the mire of mediocrity, and he might -as well save himself the trouble." -</p> - -<p> -Mona smiled in spite of herself—a quick, appreciative -smile—and Dudley hesitated no longer. -</p> - -<p> -"After undergoing agonies of doubt, and profound study—of -Joseph Cook—he has decided 'to accept evolution -within limits,' as he phrases it. I believe he never enters -the pulpit now without an agreeable and galling sense of how -he might electrify his congregation if he only chose, and of -how his scientific culture is thrown away on a handful of -fisher-folk." -</p> - -<p> -Dr Dudley was amused with himself for talking in this -strain; but in his present mood he would have discussed the -minister with his horse or his dog, had either of them been -his sole companion; and besides, he was interested to see -how Mona would take his character-sketch. Would she -understand his nineteenth-century jargon? -</p> - -<p> -Her answer was intelligent if non-committal. -</p> - -<p> -"He must be a man of sense and of self-repression," she -said quietly. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, he does not preach the survival of the fittest and -the action of environment, certainly; but that is just where -the pathos of it comes in. If he were the man he thinks he -is, he would preach those things in spite of himself, and without -his people finding it out. The fact is, that in the course -of his life he has assimilated two doctrines, and only -two,—Justification by Faith—or his own version of the -same,—and Baptism by Immersion as a profession of Faith. -Anything else that he has acquired, or will acquire, is the merest -accretion, and not a part of himself at all." -</p> - -<p> -"In other words, he resembles ninety-nine-hundredths of -the human race." -</p> - -<p> -Dudley laughed. "Perhaps," he said. "Poor Stuart! -I believe that in every new hearer he sees a possible interesting -young sceptic, on whom he longs to try the force of concession. -Such a tussle is the Ultima Thule of his ambition." -</p> - -<p> -"It seems a pity that it should not be realised. The -interesting young sceptic is a common species enough -nowadays, and he rarely has any objection to posing in -that capacity." -</p> - -<p> -Dr Dudley had not been studying her for nothing all -morning. Her tone jarred on him now, and he looked at -her with his quick, keen glance. -</p> - -<p> -"I wonder how long it is——" he said, and then he -decided that the remark was quite unwarrantable. -</p> - -<p> -Mona's stiffness thawed in a quiet laugh. -</p> - -<p> -"Since I was an interesting young sceptic myself?" she -said. "I suppose I did lay myself open to that. Oh, it is -a long, long time! I don't find it easy to build a new Rome -on the ashes of one that has been destroyed." -</p> - -<p> -"Don't you!" he said, with quick comprehension. "I -think I do, rather. It is such a ghastly sensation to have -no Rome. -</p> - -<p class="oem"> - 'Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul—'"<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -"Go on," said Mona. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="poem"> - "'Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul,<br /> - As the swift seasons roll!<br /> - Leave thy low-vaulted past.<br /> - Let each new temple, nobler than the last,<br /> - Shut thee from heaven by a dome more vast;<br /> - Till thou at length art free,<br /> - Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea!'"<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Then suddenly it flashed on Mona wherein his great charm -lay. He had one of the most beautiful voices she had ever -heard. -</p> - -<p> -"We might strike down to the beach here," he said, "and -go home by the braes. It is ever so much pleasanter." -</p> - -<p> -"Not to-day, I think," said Mona; but what she meant -was, "Not with you." -</p> - -<p> -They were deep in conversation when they reached Mrs -Hamilton's gate, and he was almost in the act of walking on -with her to her own door; but he suddenly remembered who -she was, and thought better of it. Not a very noble -consideration, perhaps, when looked at from the standpoint of -eternity; but even the best of us do not at all times look at -life from the standpoint of eternity. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -"Who is that young—person, who lives with Miss Simpson?" -he asked his aunt as they sat at lunch. He would -have said "young lady" but for Mrs Hamilton's well-known -prejudices on the subject. "She seems remarkably -intelligent." -</p> - -<p> -"She's a niece, I believe. Yes, she's sensible enough. I -have not seen them since I came back." -</p> - -<p> -"But you don't mean to say her mother was Miss Simpson's -sister?" -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose so. Why not?" -</p> - -<p> -"Why not? Talk of freaks of Nature! This girl seems -to be a sort of hidden genius." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, Ralph, come!" said the old lady, with a twinkle in -her eye. "There's plenty of backbiting in Borrowness, and -Miss Simpson's niece must expect to come in for her share of -it, but I never heard <i>that</i> said of her yet!" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap14"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XIV. -<br /><br /> -REACTION. -</h3> - -<p> -The first fortnight of Mona's stay at Borrowness was -drawing to a close, and she was wellnigh prostrated with -sheer physical reaction. -</p> - -<p> -"It is certainly my due, after all the pleasant excitement -of Norway," she thought; for she would not admit, even to -herself, that the strain of settling down to these new -conditions of life had taxed her nerves more than medical study -and examinations had ever been able to do. -</p> - -<p> -She tried hard to be brave and bright, but even Rachel's -unobservant eye could not always fail to notice the contrast -between her gaiety of manner and the almost woe-begone -expression which her face sometimes wore in repose. Even -the welcome arrival of the traveller, with samples of elastic, -<i>inter alia</i>, only roused her for a few minutes from the -lethargy into which she had fallen. If she could have spent -a good deal of her time at Castle Maclean, as she had -dubbed the column of rock on the beach, things would have -been more bearable; but the weather continued fine, and -Rachel insisted on making an interminable round of dreary -afternoon calls. -</p> - -<p> -Day after day they put on their "best things," and sallied -forth, to sit by the hour in rose-scented parlours and exert -themselves to talk about nothing. Even in this, under -ordinary circumstances, Mona would have found abundant -amusement, but it was not the most appropriate treatment -for a profound fit of depression. -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose, if I had eyes to see it, these people are all -intensely interesting," she said to herself; "but, heaven help -me, I find them as dull as ditch-water!" -</p> - -<p> -This opinion was probably mutual, for Mona's sprightliness -of manner had entirely deserted her for the moment. -It was all she could do to be tolerably amiable, and to speak -when she was spoken to. Some of the people they called -upon remembered vaguely that her father had been a great -man, and treated her with exaggerated respect in -consequence; but to the majority she was simply Rachel -Simpson's cousin, a person of very small account in the -Borrowness world. -</p> - -<p> -"We have still to go and see Auntie Bell," said Rachel at -last; "but we'll wait till Mr Hogg can drive us out in his -machine. He is always ready to oblige me." -</p> - -<p> -"Who is Auntie Bell?" -</p> - -<p> -"She's the same relation to me that I am to you; in fact, -she's a far-away connection of your own. She's a plain -body, taken up with her hens and her dairy,—indeed, for -the matter of that, she manages the whole farm." -</p> - -<p> -"A sort of Mrs Poyser?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know <i>her</i>." -</p> - -<p> -"Not know Mrs Poyser? Oh, you must let me read you -about her. We shall finish that story in the <i>Sunday at -Home</i> this evening, and to-morrow we will begin Mrs -Poyser. It's a capital story, and I should dearly like your -opinion of it." -</p> - -<p> -Rachel had not much faith in the attractions of any story -recommended by Mona; but, if it was about a farmer's wife, -it must surely be at least comprehensible, and probably more -or less interesting. -</p> - -<p> -The next morning Mona was alone in the shop. Her fairy -fingers had wrought a wonderful change in her surroundings, -but it seemed to her now in her depression that she might -better have let things alone. "Oh, reform it altogether!" -she said bitterly. "What's the use of patching—<i>what's the -use?</i>" -</p> - -<p> -The shop-bell rang sharply, and Dr Dudley came in. It -was a relief to see some one quite different from the people -with whom her social intercourse had lain of late. -</p> - -<p> -"Good morning," he said. "How are you?" -</p> - -<p> -"Good morning," said Mona. -</p> - -<p> -She ignored his offered hand, but she was surprised to hear -herself answering unconventionally. -</p> - -<p> -"I am bored," she said, "to the last limit of endurance." -</p> - -<p> -He drew down his brows with a frown of sympathy. -</p> - -<p> -"Are you?" he said. "What do you do for it?" -</p> - -<p> -"I do believe he is going to recommend Easton's Syrup!" -thought Mona. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, that's the trouble," she said. "I am not young -enough to write a tragedy, so there is nothing for it but to -grin and bear it." -</p> - -<p> -"You ought to go out for a regular spin," he said kindly. -"There's nothing like that for blowing away the cobwebs." -</p> - -<p> -"I can't to-day, but to-morrow I am going for a twenty-mile -walk along the coast"—"botanising," she was about to -add, but she thought better of it. -</p> - -<p> -"Don't overdo it," he said. "If you are not in training, -twenty miles is too much," and his eye rested admiringly -on her figure, as the Sahib's had done only a fortnight -before. He was thinking that if his aunt's horse were less fat, -and her carriage less heavy, and the world constructed on -different principles generally, he would like nothing better -than to take this bright young girl for a good rattle across -the county. -</p> - -<p> -"I think I am in pretty fair training, thank you. Can I -show you anything this morning?" For Mona wished it to -be understood that no young man was at liberty to drop into -the shop for the sole purpose of gossip. -</p> - -<p> -He sighed. "What have you got that is in the least -likely to be of the smallest use to me at any future period -of my life?" he felt half inclined to say; but instead, he -bought some pens—which he certainly did not want—and -showed no sign of going. -</p> - -<p> -"My dear," called Rachel's anxious voice, "come here -quick, will you? Sally has cut her finger to the bone!" -</p> - -<p> -"Allow me," said Dr Dudley, taking a neat little surgical -case from his pocket. "That is more in my line than yours, -I think," and he hastily left the room. -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Is</i> it indeed!" said Mona saucily to herself, drawing -the counterpart of his case from her own pocket. "Set -you up!" -</p> - -<p> -She was about to follow him, "to hold the forceps," as -she said, when the bell rang again, and two red-haired, -showily-dressed girls entered the shop. They seemed -surprised to see Mona there, and looked at her critically. -</p> - -<p> -"Some blue ribbon," said one of them languidly, with a -comical affectation of <i>hauteur</i>. -</p> - -<p> -Mona laid the box on the counter, and they ran their eyes -over the poor little store. -</p> - -<p> -"No, there is nothing there that will do." -</p> - -<p> -Mona bowed, and replaced the box on the shelf. -</p> - -<p> -"You don't mean to say that is all you've got! Why, it -is not even fresh. Some of it is half faded." -</p> - -<p> -"Truly," said Mona quietly. "I suppose you will be able -to get what you want elsewhere." -</p> - -<p> -"I told you it was no use, Matilda, in a place like this," -said the elder of the two, looking contemptuously round the -shop. "Pa will be driving us in to St Rules in a day or -two. There are some decent shops there." -</p> - -<p> -"What is the use of that when I want it to-night? Just -let me see the box again." -</p> - -<p> -She took up the least impossible roll of ribbon and regarded -it critically. -</p> - -<p> -"You can't possibly take that, Matilda. Every shop-girl -wears that shade." -</p> - -<p> -Matilda nudged her sister violently, and they both strove -to prevent a giggle from getting the better of their dignity. -Fortunately, when they looked at Mona, she seemed to be -quite unconscious of this little by-play. The younger was -the first to recover herself. -</p> - -<p> -"I will take two yards of that," she said, trying to make -up for her momentary lapse by increased formality, and she -threw half-a-sovereign on the counter, without inquiring the -price. -</p> - -<p> -Mona had just given her the parcel and the change, when -Rachel came in full of obsequious interest, and inquiries -about "your pa" and "your ma"; so Mona withdrew to the -other side of the shop. -</p> - -<p> -"I see you have got a new assistant, Miss Simpson," said -Matilda patronisingly. -</p> - -<p> -"I'm happy to say I have,—a relation of my own, -too,—Miss Maclean." -</p> - -<p> -Rachel meant it for an informal introduction, but Mona -did not raise her eyes from the wools she was arranging. -</p> - -<p> -"You will be glad to hear that the wound is a very trifling -one," said Dr Dudley's pleasant voice a moment later, as he -re-entered the shop and walked straight up to Mona. "Good -morning." In spite of his previous rebuff, he held out his -hand cordially, and, although Mona was somewhat amused, -she appreciated the kindness of his motive too warmly to -refuse his hand again. -</p> - -<p> -And indeed it was a pleasant hand to take—firm, "live," -brotherly, non-aggressive. -</p> - -<p> -But she responded to his salutation with a very audible, -"Good morning, sir." -</p> - -<p> -"Damnation!" he said to himself, "the girl is as proud -as Lucifer. She might have left the 'sir' alone for once." -</p> - -<p> -From which you will perceive that Dr Dudley had heard -something of the conversation which had just taken place, -had guessed a little more, and had resolved in a very friendly -spirit to play the part of a <i>deus ex machinâ</i>. -</p> - -<p> -He went out of the shop in company with the red-haired -girls. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you know that young woman is a relation of Miss -Simpson's?" asked one of them. -</p> - -<p> -"I do." -</p> - -<p> -"She might be a duchess from the airs she gives herself," -said the other. -</p> - -<p> -Dr Dudley was silent. It would be a gratuitous exaggeration -to say that Mona would grace that or any other position, -although the contrast she presented to these two girls made -him feel strongly inclined to do so; and in any case it was -always a mistake to show one's hand. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, you needn't have said that about shop-girls all the -same," said Matilda. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't care! It would do her good to be taken down a -peg." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, Miss Cookson," said Dr Dudley, thankfully seizing -his opportunity, "don't you think it is dangerous work trying -to take people down a peg? It requires such a delicate -hand, that I never attempt it myself. One is so very apt to -take one's self down instead." -</p> - -<p> -He lifted his hat with a short "Good morning," and -strode away in the opposite direction. -</p> - -<p> -"Where were your eyes?" said Rachel, when the -customers had left the shop. "Miss Cookson was going to -shake hands with you, I believe; and they're the richest -people in Borrowness." -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you very much, dear," replied Mona quietly, -"but one must draw the line somewhere. If our customers -have less manners than Mrs Sanderson's pig, I will serve -them to the best of my ability, but I must decline the -honour of their personal acquaintance." -</p> - -<p> -This explanation was intended mainly as a quiet snub to -Rachel. In the life at Borrowness, nothing tried Mona -more sorely than the way in which her cousin truckled to -every one whom she considered her social superior; and it -was almost unavoidable that Mona herself should be driven -to the opposite extreme in her morbid resolution that no one -should consider her guilty of the same meanness. "I don't -suppose for a moment that those girls would bow to Rachel -in the streets of St Rules," she thought. "Why can she -not be content to look upon them as customers and nothing -more?" -</p> - -<p> -Poor Mona! She was certainly learning something of the -seamiest side of the "wide, puzzling subject of compromise." Hitherto -she had been responsible for herself alone, and so -had lived simply and frankly; but now a thousand petty -considerations were forced upon her in spite of herself, -because she felt responsible for her cousin too. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, they do say the Cooksons are conceited and stiff," -said Rachel, "but they're always pleasant enough to me." -</p> - -<p> -She found considerable satisfaction afterwards, however, -in detailing to one of her friends how Mona had taken the -bull by the horns, and had attributed the stiffness on which -the Cooksons so prided themselves to simple want of manners. -She felt as the people did in Hans Andersen's story -when the first voice had found courage to say, "But he has -got nothing on!" and she never again absolutely grovelled -before the Cooksons. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap15"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XV. -<br /><br /> -THE BOTANISTS. -</h3> - -<p> -Immediately after breakfast the next morning, Mona -slung her vasculum over her shoulder, strapped a business-like -spud round her waist, tucked a well-worn <i>Hooker</i> -under her arm, and set off at a good brisk pace. Contrary -to all expectations, the rain still held off; and, as physical -exercise brought the blood to her face, the clouds of her -depression rolled away like mountain mists in the sunshine. -</p> - -<p> -She kept to the highroad for the first few miles, and then, -when she was well past the haunts of men, struck on to the -glorious, undulating, sandy dunes. -</p> - -<p> -Botanising was not very easy work now, for most of the -plants were in fruit, and sometimes not even the youngest -member of an inflorescence persisted, as a pale stray floret, -to proclaim the pedigree of its family. But Mona was -no tyro in the work, and her vasculum filled up steadily. -Moreover, she was not disposed to quarrel with anything -to-day, and when she reached the extreme easterly point of -the county, and stood all alone at the water's edge, she felt -the same sense of exultation and proprietorship that she had -experienced on the wild pack-horse track above the Nærodal. -</p> - -<p> -All at once her eye caught sight of some showy purple -blossoms. "Eldorado yo he trovado!" she cried. "I verily -believe it is a sea-rocket." She transferred it to her -vasculum, and seated herself on a rock for a few minutes' -rest. She proceeded to undo her packet of sandwiches, -singing to herself all the time, as was her habit when -light-hearted and quite alone; but the words that came into her -head were not always so appropriate as on the occasion of -her first visit to the beach; and at the present moment she -was proclaiming with all the emphasis befitting a second -encore— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "Fo—r he's going to marry Yum-Yum"—<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -when a sudden intuition made her look round, and, to her -horror, she saw two men regarding her with an amused -smile. -</p> - -<p> -One was elderly, ruddy, and commonplace; the other was -young, sallow, mournful, and interesting. Both carried -vasculums a good deal more battered and weather-beaten than -Mona's own. -</p> - -<p> -She coloured up to the roots of her hair, and then made -the best of the situation, laughing quietly, and proceeding -with her sandwiches the while. -</p> - -<p> -The ruddy man lifted his hat with a friendly bow. "But -for the nineteenth-century character of your song," he said, -"I should have taken you for the nymph of the coast." -</p> - -<p> -"In a go-ahead county like this," said Mona gravely, -returning his bow, "even the nymph of the coast is expected -to keep pace with the times." -</p> - -<p> -"True," he said. "I had forgotten where I was. Has -the nymph of the coast got anything interesting in her -vasculum?" -</p> - -<p> -"Nothing really rare, I fear, though I have found a good -deal that is new to me. Oh, by the way, I found a plant -of penny-cress in some waste ground near Kilwinnie. Is -that common here?" -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Thlaspi arvense?</i>" he said sceptically, looking at his -sallow companion. -</p> - -<p> -The younger man shook his head. "I never saw it in the -neighbourhood," he said. -</p> - -<p> -"I am quite open to conviction, of course," said Mona. -and, rummaging in her vasculum, she produced a bunch of -large, flat, green "pennies." -</p> - -<p> -"Right," chuckled the elder man triumphantly—"see -that?" -</p> - -<p> -"Y-e-s. It's curious I never saw it before—and near -Kilwinnie, too. But it seems all right; it is not likely to be a -garden escape." -</p> - -<p> -And they proceeded to compare specimens with much -interest and enthusiasm. -</p> - -<p> -"We intended to go on a little farther," said the elderly -gentleman at last. "As you are botanising also, perhaps -you will join us?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona assented gladly, and they walked together a -few miles along the coast, before turning back towards -Kilwinnie. -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose you have done no microscopic botany?" said -her friend suddenly. -</p> - -<p> -This, from Rachel's point of view, was approaching -dangerous ground; but she was never likely to see these men -again. They did not look like natives. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I have done a little," said Mona. "I have -attended a botany class." -</p> - -<p> -"Indeed! May I ask where?" -</p> - -<p> -"In London"—and as he still looked at her enquiringly, -"at University College," she added. -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Oh</i>! Then you <i>have</i> studied botany! But they did -not teach you there to spot <i>Thlaspi arvense</i>?" -</p> - -<p> -"No; I taught myself that before I began to study -botany. I think it is a pity that that part of the subject -is so much ignored." -</p> - -<p> -"But botany, as taught at present, is much more scientific. -Old-fashioned botany—especially as taught to ladies—was -a happy combination of pedestrianism and glorified -stamp-collecting." -</p> - -<p> -"True," said Mona, "and if one had to choose between -the old and the new, one would choose the new without -a moment's hesitation; but, on the other hand, it does give -the enemy occasion to blaspheme, when a man can tell them -that a flower is composite, proterandrous, syngenesious, &c., -but when he is quite unable to designate it by its simple -name of dandelion." -</p> - -<p> -Both the men laughed. -</p> - -<p> -When they reached Kilwinnie, the elder of the two -stopped and held out his hand. -</p> - -<p> -"I am sorry we cannot offer to see you home," he said; -"but the fact is, dinner is waiting for me now at the inn, -and I start for London to-night. If you are ever in town -again, my wife and I will be only too pleased to see you," -and he handed her his card. -</p> - -<p> -He did not ask her name, for the simple reason that -he had already seen it in the beginning of her <i>Flora</i>. -</p> - -<p> -When Mona looked at the card, she found that she had -been spending the afternoon with a scientist of European -celebrity. -</p> - -<p> -"If redbeard be that," she said, "what must blackbeard -be, and why did he not give me his card too?" -</p> - -<p> -She walked on at a good pace, realising only when she -saw the lights of Kirkstoun, how dark it had grown. As -she passed the post-office, she saw a knot of men assembled -at the counter; for, in an unobtrusive way, the Kirkstoun -post-office—which was also a flourishing grocer's -shop—served many of the purposes of a club. This it did the -more effectually as the only female assistant was a wrinkled -and spiteful old woman, whose virgin ears could not be -injured by any ordinary masculine gossip. -</p> - -<p> -Scarcely had Mona left this rendezvous behind her when -she was overtaken by Dr Dudley. -</p> - -<p> -"You are very late," he said simply. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, but I have had a glorious time." -</p> - -<p> -"You are tired?" -</p> - -<p> -"Healthily tired." -</p> - -<p> -"Cobwebs all gone?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh yes! In fact, they had begun to go when I saw -you yesterday, or I could not have spoken of them." -</p> - -<p> -"Poor little soul!" he thought to himself, wondering -how she escaped melancholia in the narrow limits of her -life. -</p> - -<p> -"You did not really mind those vulgar girls yesterday," -he went on awkwardly, after a pause. -</p> - -<p> -For a moment she could not think what he was referring to. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh no!" she said at last, with wide-open eyes of -wonder. "How could I? They don't come into my world -at all. Neither their opinion of me, nor their want of -manners, can possibly affect me." -</p> - -<p> -"That is certainly the sensible way to look at it." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know, after all, whether it is the right way. -Probably their vulgarity is all on the surface. I believe -there are thousands of girls like that who only want some -large-souled woman to take them by the hand, and draw -out their own womanhood. How can they help it if their -life has been barren of ideals?" -</p> - -<p> -He made a mental survey of the women in the neighbourhood, -in search of some one capable of performing such -a function. -</p> - -<p> -"What a pity it is that they cannot see <i>you</i> as you are," -he said, looking at the dim outline of her face. -"Large-souled women do not grow on every hedge." -</p> - -<p> -"Perhaps it would be more to the purpose if I could -see myself as they see me," she answered thoughtfully. -"After all, with the honestest intentions, we scan our lives -as we do our own poetry, laying stress on the right syllables, -and passing lightly over a halting foot. You force me to -confess that I said some very ill-natured things about those -girls after they were gone; and I had not their excuse -of being still in the chrysalis stage. They may make better -butterflies than I yet. Even a woman can never tell -how a girl is going to turn out." -</p> - -<p> -He laughed. "What is bred in the bone—" he said, "Their -mother is my ideal of all that is vulgar and pretentious." -</p> - -<p> -"Poor children!" said Mona. -</p> - -<p> -"And the best of it is," he said, "that she began life as a -small——" -</p> - -<p> -He stopped short and the blood rushed over his face. -</p> - -<p> -"Well," said Mona quietly, "as a what?" -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Milliner</i>," he said, kicking a stone violently out of -his way, in a tempest of anger at his own stupidity. -</p> - -<p> -"You don't mean to say," said Mona, "that you were -afraid of hurting my feelings? Oh, please give me credit -for having the soul of a human being!" -</p> - -<p> -He walked with her to her own door that night. It -was after dark, to be sure, but I am inclined to think -that he might have done the same had it been noonday; -and when he got home he asked his aunt no more questions -about "Miss Simpson's niece." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap16"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XVI. -<br /><br /> -"JOHN HOGG'S MACHINE." -</h3> - -<p> -"He is curiously <i>simpatico</i>," said Mona to herself the -next morning. "I don't know that I ever knew any one -with whom I felt less necessity for clearing up my -fog-beswathed utterances, or for breaking down my brilliant -metaphors in milk; it is pleasant to be able to walk straight -off into the eternals with somebody; but I like a man to be -more of a healthy animal." And a sunshiny memory passed -through her mind of the "moral Antiseptic," the dear -brotherly Sahib. -</p> - -<p> -"I wonder who the other botanist was?" she went on presently, -tumbling her pillows into a more comfortable position. -"The Professor's assistant perhaps, or possibly a professor -himself. He certainly was a scientist, every inch of him, -from his silent tongue to the tips of his ill-groomed fingers." -</p> - -<p> -It would have surprised her not a little if she could have -seen the subject of her speculations an hour or so later. He -was sitting behind the counter of a draper's shop in -Kilwinnie, his head resting on his hand in an attitude of the -deepest dejection. Mona was perfectly right when she -declared him to be every inch a scientist; he was more so -perhaps than even the great Professor himself: but the lines -had fallen unto him in a narrow little world, where his -studies were looked upon as mere vagaries, on a par with -kite-making and bullet-casting; where his college classes at St -Rules had to be paid for out of his own carefully saved -pocket-money; where his experiments and researches had to -be conducted in a tumble-down summer-house at the foot of -the old garden; and where, at the age of twenty, he was left -an orphan with four grown-up sisters to support. -</p> - -<p> -Had they all lived thirty years later, or in a less secluded -part of the world, the sisters would probably have looked -out for themselves, and have left their brother to make a -great name, or to starve in a garret over his weeds and his -beetles, according as the Fates might decree; but such an -idea never occurred to any one of the five, although the sisters -had all received sufficient instruction in music, painting, and -French, to make them rather hard to please in the matter of -husbands. -</p> - -<p> -The lad was cut out for patient, laborious, scientific -research, and he knew it; but with four sisters on one's -hands, and a balance at the bank scarcely large enough to -meet doctor's bills and funeral expenses, scientific research -seems sadly vague and indefinite, while a well-established -drapery business is at least "something to lippen to." -</p> - -<p> -So he laid aside his plans, and took up the yardstick as a -mere matter of course, without any posing and protestations -even to himself. -</p> - -<p> -He so far asserted himself, that the microscope, the <i>hortus -siccus</i>, and the neat pine-wood cabinets, took up a place of -honour in the house, instead of skulking in out-of-the-way -corners; but now that fifteen years had passed away, although -he was known to all the initiated as the greatest living -authority on the fauna and flora of the eastern part of the -county, he was beginning to pursue his hobby at rarer -intervals and in a more dilettante spirit. Now and then when -some great scientist came into the neighbourhood, and -appealed to him as to the habitat of this and as to the -probable extinction of that, when his personal convoy on an -expedition was looked upon as an honour and a great piece -of luck, when in the course of walks round the coast he -drank in the new theories of which the scientific world was -talking, he felt some return of the old fire; but in the main, -to the great relief of his sisters, he was settling down into a -good and useful burgher, with a place on the town council -and on sundry local boards, with an excellent prospect of the -provostship, and with no time for such frivolities as -butterfly-hunting and botanising. -</p> - -<p> -When his acquaintances questioned him, he always stated -his conviction that he had chosen, on the whole, the better -part; but he never gave any account of hours like the -present, in which he loathed the very thought of civic honours -and dignity, and in which he painted to himself in glowing -colours the life that might have been. -</p> - -<p> -He was thinking much just now of the burly old professor -whose visit he had keenly enjoyed; and more even than of -the professor he was thinking of Mona Maclean. All things -are relative in life. Scores of men had met Mona who had -scarcely looked at her a second time. She might be nothing -and nobody in the great bright world of London; but into -this man's dark and lonely life she had come like a meteor. -He could scarcely have told what it was that had fascinated -him. It was partly her bright young face, though he dreaded -good-looking women; partly her light-hearted song, though -he scorned frivolous women; partly her botany, though he -laughed at learned women; and partly her frank outspoken -manner, though he hated forward women. She bore no -smallest resemblance to the mental picture that had -sometimes floated vaguely before him of a possible helpmeet for -him; and yet, and yet—look where he would, he could see -her sitting on that rock, with all the light of the dancing -waves in her eyes,—the veritable spirit of the coast as the -professor had said. He even found himself trying to hum -in a very uncertain bass, -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "For he's going to marry Yum-Yum;"<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -but this was a <i>reductio ad absurdum</i>, and with a heavy frown -he proceeded to make out some bills. -</p> - -<p> -It never occurred to him to question that she was far out -of his reach. Anybody, he thought, could see at a glance -that she was a lady, in a different sense from that in which -his sisters bore the name. It was right and fitting that the -great professor should give her his card, but who was he—the -draper of Kilwinnie—that he should suggest another -meeting? -</p> - -<p> -But the second meeting was nearer than either he or Mona -anticipated. -</p> - -<p> -"We're going to take tea with Auntie Bell this afternoon," -said Rachel next day. "Mr Hogg is going in to Kilwinnie -on business, and he says if we don't mind waiting half an -hour in the town, he will drive us on to Balbirnie. I want -to buy a couple of mats at Mr Brown's; you can depend on -the quality there better than anywhere here or in Kirkstoun; -and we'll just wait in the shop till Mr Hogg is ready." -</p> - -<p> -"But can he spare the time?" asked Mona uneasily. She -knew that Rachel could quite well afford to hire a trap now -and then. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, he's always glad to have a crack with Auntie Bell, -not to say a taste of her scones and cream. She is a great -hand at scones." -</p> - -<p> -This was magnanimous on Rachel's part, for her own -scones were tough and heavy, and—though that, of course, -she did not know—constituted one of the minor trials of -Mona's life. -</p> - -<p> -"But, dear," said Mona, "we are neglecting the shop -dreadfully between us." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, Sally can mind it all right when she's cleaned herself -in the afternoon. She is only too glad of a gossip with -anybody. It is not as if it was for a constancy like; this is our -last call in the meantime. Now the folks will begin to call -on us, and some of them will ask us to tea." -</p> - -<p> -Mona tried to smile cordially, but the prospect was not -entrancing. -</p> - -<p> -About half-past two, Mr Hogg came round in his -"machine." Now "machine," as we all know, is a radical -and levelling word, and in this case it was a question -of levelling up, not of levelling down, for Mr Hogg's -machine was simply a tradesman's cart. It was small, to -be sure, and fairly new and fresh, and nicely varnished, -but no one could look at it and doubt that it was what -Lucy would have called a "common or garden" cart. -Rachel and Mona got in with some difficulty, and they -started off along the Kirkstoun road. Here they met Dr -Dudley. His short-sighted eyes would never have recognised -them had not Rachel leaned forward and bowed effusively; -then he lifted his hat and passed on. -</p> - -<p> -They rattled through the streets of Kirkstoun, past the -post-office, the tannery, the Baptist chapel, and other -buildings of importance; and then drove out to Kilwinnie, where -Mr Hogg politely deposited them at Mr Brown's door. -</p> - -<p> -Here, then, Mona saw her "professor" measuring out a -dress length of lilac print for a waiting servant-girl, and here -the draper saw his fairy princess, his spirit of the coast, -alighting with as much grace as possible from John Hogg's -cart. -</p> - -<p> -Mr Brown knew Rachel Simpson. She stopped occasionally -to purchase something from him on her way to Auntie -Bell's; his sisters often amused themselves by laughing at -her dress, and the traveller told him comical stories about -the way in which she kept shop. -</p> - -<p> -For it must be clearly understood that Mr Brown's shop -was a very different thing from Rachel Simpson's. It was -well stocked with substantial goods, and was patronised by -all the people round about who really respected themselves. -It was no place for "bargains" in the modern sense of the -word. It was a commercial eddy left behind by the tide in -days when things were expected to wash and to wear. There -was no question here of "locking the door, and letting folks -see that you did not require to keep the shop." A place -like this must, on the face of it, be the chief aim and end of -somebody's existence. -</p> - -<p> -Rachel's descent from the cart was a somewhat tedious -process, but at length it was accomplished successfully, and -Mr Hogg drove away, promising to return for them in half -an hour. -</p> - -<p> -Poor Rachel was not a little flattered by the draper's -cordial greeting. Leaving the "young man" to do up the -print, he came forward, with stammering, uncertain words -indeed, but with a beaming smile and outstretched hand. -And he might be Provost next year! -</p> - -<p> -"This is my cousin, Miss Maclean," she said. -</p> - -<p> -Mr Brown looked absolutely petrified. -</p> - -<p> -"I think we have met before," said Mona, not a little -surprised herself, taking his offered hand. "This is one of -the gentlemen, dear, who helped me with my plants." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh," said Rachel rather blankly. -</p> - -<p> -It had required all her "manners" to keep her from -giving Mona a candid opinion of the common weeds which -were the sole fruit of a long day's ramble, and Rachel had a -very poor opinion of any man who could occupy himself -with such trash. But, to be sure, he was a good -draper—and he might be Provost next year! -</p> - -<p> -And then he was so very cordial and friendly—that in -itself would have covered a multitude of sins. As soon as -Rachel had made up her mind about the mats, he hastened -up-stairs, and returned with a stammering invitation from -his sisters. Would Miss Simpson and her cousin come up -to the drawing-room and wait there? When Mona came to -know a little more of the Brown <i>ménage</i>, she wondered how -in the world he had ever succeeded in getting that invitation. -</p> - -<p> -But up-stairs they went, and were graciously received by -the sisters. Mr Brown was wildly happy, and utterly -unable to show himself to any advantage. He wandered -aimlessly about, showing Mona this and that, and striving -vainly to utter a single sentence consecutively. -</p> - -<p> -"Can't you have tea?" he said in a stage-whisper to -his sister. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, thank you," interposed Rachel with a somewhat -oleaginous smile, "it's very kind, I'm sure, but we're on -our way to Mrs Easson's, and we won't spoil our appetites." -</p> - -<p> -"Are you going to be here long?" said the draper to -Mona. -</p> - -<p> -"At Borrowness? A few months, I expect." -</p> - -<p> -"Then you'll be doing some more botanising?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh yes." -</p> - -<p> -"There's some very nice things a little bit farther round -the coast than we went the other day. Would you come -some time with my sister and me?" -</p> - -<p> -"I should be very glad indeed," said Mona warmly. -"It is an immense advantage to go with some one who -knows the neighbourhood." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, we will arrange the day—later on," and he -sighed; "but it won't do to wait too long now." -</p> - -<p> -At this moment Mr Hogg rattled up to the door, and the -draper went down and helped his visitors into the cart. -</p> - -<p> -"Why, I declare he's getting to be quite a lady's man," -said Rachel when they were well out of hearing. "I wonder -what his sisters would say if he was to get married after all." -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile the Browns discussed their visitors, -</p> - -<p> -"It's last year's mantle," said Number one, "but the -bonnet's new." -</p> - -<p> -"And what a bonnet!" said Number two. -</p> - -<p> -"And she still shows two or three good inches of red -wrist between her glove and her sleeve," said Number three, -"Nobody would think that girl was her cousin." -</p> - -<p> -"She's not at all pretty," said Number four, "but she's -quite ladylike. Do you know what she is, Philip?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't," he said nervously, "but I fancy she must be a -teacher or something of that kind. She has been very well -educated." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, that would account for it," said Number two. "It -must be a nice change for her to come and stay with Miss -Simpson." -</p> - -<p> -The draper stood at the window counting up his happiness. -There was not a snobbish line in his nature, and Mona was -not any the less a fairy princess in his eyes because she -seemed suddenly to have come within his reach. He knew -his sisters did not want him to marry, and he was grateful -to them now for having crushed in the bud certain little -fancies in the past; but if he once made up his mind,—he -laughed to himself as he thought how little their -remonstrances would weigh with him. Of course there was a -great chance that so bright and so clever a girl might refuse -him; but fifteen years of his sisters' influence had not -taught him to exaggerate this probability, and in that part -of the country there is a strong superstition to the effect -that a woman teacher is not likely to refuse what is -commonly known as "an honest man's love." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap17"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XVII. -<br /><br /> -AUNTIE BELL. -</h3> - -<p> -The slanting rays of the afternoon sun were throwing the -old farmhouse, with its goodly barns and well-built stacks, -into mellow lights and warm brown shadows, when Mr -Hogg's pony drew up at the garden-gate. Before they had -time to get down, Auntie Bell came out to greet them,—such -a queer little woman, bent half double, and peering up -at her visitors through her gold spectacles with keen expressive -eyes. There was force of character in every line of her -face and figure, even in the dowdy cap, the grey wincey -gown, and snow-white apron. -</p> - -<p> -"Why, it's Rachel Simpson," she said. "Come awa' ben. -Dick'll tak' the powny." -</p> - -<p> -"This is my cousin, Miss Maclean," said Rachel. -</p> - -<p> -"Mona Maclean," corrected the owner of the name. -</p> - -<p> -Auntie Bell gripped her hand and studied her face with as -little regard to her feelings as if she had been a horse or a -cow, the furrow on her own brow deepening the while. -</p> - -<p> -"Eh, but she's like her faither," she said. "The mooth -an' the chin——" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," said Rachel shortly. The subject of Mona's -father was not a congenial one. -</p> - -<p> -"What w'y are ye no' mairrit yet?" continued Auntie -Bell severely, still maintaining her grasp of Mona's hand. -</p> - -<p> -"'Advanced women don't marry, sir, she said,'" were the -first words that passed through Mona's mind, but she -paraphrased them. "We don't marry now," she said. "It's -gone out of fashion." -</p> - -<p> -The muscles of Auntie Bell's face relaxed. -</p> - -<p> -"Hoot awa'," she said. "Wait ye till a braw young -man comes alang——" -</p> - -<p> -"You will dance at my wedding then, won't you?" -</p> - -<p> -"That will I!" and Auntie Bell executed a momentary -<i>pas seul</i> on the spot. -</p> - -<p> -She stopped abruptly and drew down her brows with all -her former gravity. -</p> - -<p> -"I hope ye're cliver," she said. -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you. As folks go nowadays, I think I am pretty -fair." -</p> - -<p> -"Ye had need be, wi' a faither like yon." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah," said Mona with sudden gravity, "I was not -thinking of him. I am not clever as he was." -</p> - -<p> -"Na, na, I was thinkin' that. He was"—this with great -emphasis—"as fine a mon as iver I saw." -</p> - -<p> -"But did you know him? I did not know that he was -ever in this part of the country." -</p> - -<p> -"Ay was he! He cam' ae day, it may be five-an'-twinty -year syne—afore there was ony word o' you, maybe. He -was keen to see the hoose whaur his faither was born, and -we'd a crack aboot the auld folks, him and me. Rachel -Simpson was at Dundee than. My word! ye'd hae thocht -I'd been the finest leddy at the Towers. But come awa' -ben, an' I'll mask the tea." -</p> - -<p> -"Ye'll find the place in an awfu' disorder," she went on -to Rachel as they entered the spotless parlour. "I'm -that hadden doon o' the hairvest, I've no' got my back -strauchten'd up sin' it commenced;" and she bustled in and -out of the kitchen getting the tea. -</p> - -<p> -"You don't let the girls do enough," said Rachel. -</p> - -<p> -"The lassies! Hoot awa'. I canna bide their slatternly -w'ys i' the hoose. I'm best pleased when they're oot-bye." -</p> - -<p> -"You havena been to see me for many a long day." -</p> - -<p> -"Me! I've no' been onywhere; I've no' seen onybody. -I've no' been to the kirk sin' I canna tell ye whan. What -w'y would I? The folk wad a' be lauchin' at daft auld -Auntie Bell wi' her bent back. The meenister was here -seein' me. He cam' that day o' the awfu' rain, his umberella -wrang side oot, an' his face blue wi' the cauld—ye ken -what a thin, feckless body he is. 'Come awa', ye puir -cratur,' says I, 'come awa' ben tae the fire.' An' he draws -himsel' up, an' says he, 'Why say, poor creature?'—like -that, ye ken—'why say, poor creature?'" And Auntie Bell -clapped her hand on her knee, and laughed at the recollection. -</p> - -<p> -At this moment Mr Hogg and Auntie Bell's husband—a -person of no great account—passed the window on their -way into the house. -</p> - -<p> -"Come awa' tae yer tea, Mr Hogg. Hoot, Dauvid, awa' -an' pit on anither coat. Ye're no' fit tae speak tae the -leddies." -</p> - -<p> -David meekly withdrew. -</p> - -<p> -"We were in seeing the Browns," said Rachel complacently. -"They were wanting us to stay to tea." -</p> - -<p> -"Ay! I've no' seen them this mony a day." -</p> - -<p> -"How is he getting on, do you know, in the way of -business?" asked Mr Hogg. -</p> - -<p> -Auntie Bell brought the palm of her hand emphatically -down on the table. -</p> - -<p> -"A' thing i' that shop is guid," she said. "I'm perfectly -convinced o' that; but ye can get things a deal cheaper i' -the toon nor ye can wi' Maister Brown, an' folks think o' -naething but that. I aye deal wi' him mysel'. He haena -just a gift for the shop-keepin', but he's been mair wise-like -lately, less taen up wi' his butterflies an' things." -</p> - -<p> -Before her visitors had finished tea, Auntie Bell was hard -at work, in spite of a mild remonstrance from Rachel, -packing a fat duck and some new-laid eggs for them to take -home with them. Something of the kind was the invariable -termination of Rachel's visits, but she would not have -thought it "manners" to accept the basket without a good -deal of pressing. -</p> - -<p> -Mr Hogg was beginning to get impatient before the -"ladies" rose to go. -</p> - -<p> -"I'll see ye intae the cairt," said Auntie Bell to Mona, -when the first farewells had been said, "Rachel'll come -whan she gits on her bannet." -</p> - -<p> -As soon as they were in the garden, the old woman laid -her hand impressively on Mona's arm. -</p> - -<p> -"Are ye onything weel pit up wi' Rachel?" she whispered. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh yes, indeed." -</p> - -<p> -Auntie Bell shook her head. "It's no' the place for the -like o' you," she said, and then further conversation was -prevented by Miss Simpson's appearance. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, you'll be in to see us soon," she said. -</p> - -<p> -"Eh, I daursay you'll be here again first." -</p> - -<p> -"<i>I</i> will, certainly," said Mona. "I mean to walk out -and see you some day." -</p> - -<p> -"Hoot awa', lassie. It's ower far. Ye canna walk frae -Borrowness. Tak' the train——" -</p> - -<p> -"Can't I?" laughed Mona, as Mr Hogg drove off. -</p> - -<p> -"Why, why, <i>why</i>," she thought as they trotted down to -Kilwinnie, "did not the Fates give me Auntie Bell for my -hostess instead of Rachel Simpson?" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap18"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XVIII. -<br /><br /> -A SILHOUETTE. -</h3> - -<p> -About a week after Mona's visit to Auntie Bell, Dr Dudley -was sitting alone in the dining-room at Carlton Lodge. It -was nearly midnight, and a terrific storm was raging outside. -One of the great trees at the foot of the garden had been -blown down into the road, carrying with it a piece of the -wall; and the wind roared round the lonely house like a -volley of artillery. -</p> - -<p> -Within, a bright wood-fire was reflected dimly on the oak -wainscot, and a shaded lamp threw a brilliant light on -scattered books and papers, shrouding the rest of the room -in suggestive shadows. -</p> - -<p> -Dr Dudley rose to his feet, and kicked a footstool across -the room. You would scarcely have recognised his face as -the one that had smiled at Mona across the counter. The -wind played on his nerves as if they had been an instrument, -but he was not thinking of the storm. -</p> - -<p> -"Three years more before I can begin to do a man's work -in the world," he said, "and nearly thirty lie behind me! -It is enough to make one make tracks for the gold-fields -to-morrow. What surety have I that all my life won't drift, -drift, drift away, as the last thirty years have done? Upon -my soul"—he drew up the blind and looked out on the -darkness, which only threw back his image and that of the -room—"I envy the poor devils who are called out to their -patients in this tempest, for shilling or half-crown fees!" -</p> - -<p> -He was young, you see, but not very young; for, instead -of indulging in further heroics, he bit his lip and returned -to his books and papers. "<i>Hier oder nirgends ist Amerika!</i>" He -drew down his brows, and read aloud from the mighty -tome at his side, stopping now and then to add a few lines -to the diagram before him. -</p> - -<p> -He held very strongly that, in addition to practical work, -which was wellnigh everything, there was only one way -of mastering anything approaching an exact science. -Firstly, get the best handbook extant; secondly, read the -diagrams only; thirdly, read the diagrams, letterpress and -all; fourthly, read letterpress alone, constructing your own -diagrams as you go. "For after all," he said, "another -man's diagrams are but crutches at the best. It is only -when you have assimilated a subject, and projected it again -through the medium of your own temperament, that it is of -any practical use to you, or indeed has any actual existence -for you personally." -</p> - -<p> -His opinion ought to have been of some value, for the -study of an exact science was by no means the work for -which his mind was best fitted; and it is not those whom -Nature has endowed with a "royal road" to the attainment -of any subject who are best able to direct their fellows. -</p> - -<p> -The clock was striking two when he closed his books and -extinguished the lamp. It was not his custom to work so -late; he was oddly rational in such ways; but he had learned -by experience that to act on the principle that "<i>Hier oder -nirgends ist Amerika</i>" was the only cure—sometimes, alas! not -a very effectual one—for moods of depression and bitter -self-reproach. -</p> - -<p> -The hurricane had raged for several days, but next morning -the sun shone down on a smiling innocent world, with a -pleasant suggestion of eternal renewal. -</p> - -<p> -"I am going for a long drive past Kilwinnie," said Mrs -Hamilton at lunch. "I am perishing for lack of fresh air; -and I want you to go with me, Ralph." -</p> - -<p> -"I am sorry I can't," he said shortly. It must be -confessed that Dr Dudley was a man of moods. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, nonsense, Ralph! You have poked over those horrid -books for days. You refused to come the last time I asked -you, and that was centuries ago, before the storm began. I -can't have you always saying 'No.'" -</p> - -<p> -"It is a pity I did not learn to say 'No' a little earlier in -life," he said gloomily; and then, with a dismal sense that -the old lady was mainly dependent on him for moral -sunshine, he got up and laid his hand on her shoulder— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "'I have been the sluggard, and must ride apace,<br /> - For now there is a lion in the way,'"<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -he said, striving to speak cheerfully. -</p> - -<p> -"I declare, Ralph, any one would think, to hear you talk, -that you were a worn-out <i>roué</i>. What would have become -of me for the last two years if you had been in busy practice? -You know quite well that one might walk from Land's End -to John o' Groat's in search of your equal in general culture. -Professor Anderson was saying to me only the other day that -it was impossible to find you tripping. Whether the conversation -turned on some unheard-of lake in Central Africa, or -the philosophy of Hegel, or Coptic hymnology, or Cistercian -hill architecture of the Transition Period, you were as much -at home as if it was the weather that was under discussion. -I told him he might have included the last new thing in -bonnets." -</p> - -<p> -"No, no," said Ralph, laughing in spite of himself. -"That was too bad. You know I draw the line there. -These things are too wonderful for me." -</p> - -<p> -"But you will come with me, won't you?" -</p> - -<p> -"You coaxing old humbug!" he said affectionately, "I -suppose I must. It will only mean burning a little more of -the midnight oil. What havoc you must have wrought -when you were young, if you understood a man's weakness -for flattery as well as you do now!" -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, but I did not," she responded quietly, having gained -her point. "It takes a lifetime to fathom it." -</p> - -<p> -He laughed again, kissed her on the forehead, and consented -to have some tart after all. People were rather at -fault who thought the old aunt poor company for the clever -young doctor. -</p> - -<p> -In due time the sleek old coachman brought round the -sleek old horse, and they set off at a quiet trot along the -level highroad. -</p> - -<p> -"We must stop at Kirkstoun and speak to Hutchison about -getting the wall put up," said Mrs Hamilton. "Well, it is -like losing an old friend to see that tree! But we shall -be at no loss for firewood during the winter. We shall -have some royal Yule-logs, well seasoned, to welcome you -back." -</p> - -<p> -"Do," he said. "There is nothing like them after meagre -London fires; and you know we must make the most of my -Christmas visit. If you keep pretty strong, I must not come -back till midsummer, when my examination is over. It -won't do to come a cropper at my time of life. Just look at -that wheat!" -</p> - -<p> -The harvest had promised well before the storm began, -but the corn which was still uncut had been beaten down -level with the ground, and the "stocks" were sodden with -rain. -</p> - -<p> -"Most of the corn will have to be cut with the sickle -now," said the old lady. "Next Sunday won't be 'stooky -Sunday' after all." -</p> - -<p> -They drove on past Kilwinnie, discussing Dr Dudley's -approaching departure, and the date of his return. -</p> - -<p> -"Why, that surely is a strange steamer," said Mrs -Hamilton suddenly. "I wonder if she has been disabled. -Can you see?" -</p> - -<p> -"There is no use asking me about anything that is more -than a yard off," he said. "I have left my eyes at home." -</p> - -<p> -She handed him a field-glass, and he studied the vessel -carefully. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know her from the Ark," he said, "but that is -not surprising." -</p> - -<p> -Before returning the glass, he swept it half absently along -the coast, and he vaguely noticed two figures—a man's -figure and a woman's—stooping towards the ground. -</p> - -<p> -He would have thought nothing of it, but the man's hat -was off, and—standing alone as they were on the sandy -dunes—they suggested to Dudley's mind the figures in -Millet's "Angelus." He laughed at the fancy, focussed the -glass correctly, and looked at them again. -</p> - -<p> -Just then the woman straightened herself up, and stood -in silhouette against sea and sky. He would have known -that lithe young form anywhere; but—all-important -question—who was the man? Dudley subjected the unconscious -figure to a searching examination, but in vain. To his -knowledge he had never seen "the fellow" before. -</p> - -<p> -Mrs Hamilton unwittingly came to his assistance. She -took the glass from him, and examined the vessel herself. -</p> - -<p> -"No," she said, "I don't know her at all. I expect she -is coming in for repairs. Why, I believe that is Mr Brown, -the draper at Kilwinnie. You know he is quite a remarkable -botanist, a burning and shining light—under a bushel. -I suppose that is one of his sisters with him. They say he -is never seen with any other woman." -</p> - -<p> -"Confound his impudence!" muttered Dudley involuntarily. -</p> - -<p> -"Why, Ralph, what do you mean? You talk to me -about 'the effete superstitions of an ancient gentry'; but -even I have no objection to a well-conducted tradesman -amusing himself with a scientific hobby in his spare time. -It is a pity all young men of that class don't do the same. -It would keep them out of a lot of mischief." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," said Dudley, rather vaguely. -</p> - -<p> -He did not enter into any explanation of his strangely -inconsistent utterance; but such silence on his part was too -common an occurrence in his intercourse with his aunt to -call for any remark. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Dr Dudley was not in love with Mona. It was his own -firm conviction that he never would be really in love at all. -All women attracted him who in any respect or in any -degree approached his ideal; the devoted wife and mother, -the artist, the beautiful dancer, the severe student, the -capable housewife, the eloquent platform speaker,—in all of -these he saw different manifestations of the eternal idea of -womanhood, and he never thought of demanding that one -woman should in herself combine the characteristics of all. -He was content to take each one for what she was, and to -enjoy her in that capacity. He keenly appreciated the -society of women; but the moment he was out of their -presence—sometimes even before he was out of it—he found -himself analysing them as calmly as if they were men. Yet -"analyse" is scarcely the right word to use, for Dr Dudley -read character less by deliberate study than by a curious -power of intuition, which few would have predicated from a -general knowledge of his mind and character. -</p> - -<p> -Mona would have been surprised at that time had she -known how much truer was his estimate of her than was -that of the Sahib. Almost at the first glance, he had -understood something of both her simplicity and her complexity, -her reserve and her unconventionally; almost at the first -interview, he had realised that, whatever might be the case -in the future, at present the idea of sex simply did not exist -for her. She might well call him <i>simpatico</i>. He was -appreciative almost to the point of genius. -</p> - -<p> -Certainly no woman had ever attracted him precisely as -Mona did. She attracted him so much that he had been -fain to hold his peace about her, and to wish that she were -not "Miss Simpson's niece." And yet there was a pathos -and a piquancy about her, in her dingy surroundings, which -were not without their charm, and which appealed to a -latent sense of the fatherly in him, the very existence of -which he had scarcely suspected, for Dr Dudley was -essentially a college man. -</p> - -<p> -"Surely, surely," he thought as he enjoyed his after-dinner -cigar in his tiny smoking-room, "she would never -look at that fellow. She could not be such a fool. If she -had lived fifty years ago it would have been all <i>en règle</i>, -She would have married him as a matter of course, and an -excellent match for her too. She would in due course have -'suckled fools and chronicled small-beer,' and at the present -moment her granddaughters would be holding entrance -scholarships for Newnham or Girton. -</p> - -<p> -"But it's not too late for her yet. If only that dear old -aunt of mine were not such a confounded Conservative, I -would get her to pay for Miss Maclean's education. By -Jove! it would be education in her case, and not mere -instruction, as it is with most of the learned women one -meets; but even if my old lady had the money to spare, she -would infinitely rather give Miss Maclean her linen and her -best bedroom furniture, and bestow her with a blessing on -the draper!" -</p> - -<p> -It did not occur to him to doubt that Mona was practically -a fixture at Borrowness. His aunt had certainly spoken -as if she were, on the one occasion when Mona had been -mentioned between them. In truth, the old lady had taken -for granted that he was referring to the real original niece, -of whose departure for America she had never even heard; -and Ralph knew no one else in the neighbourhood who was -at all likely to give him incidental information about Miss -Simpson's assistant. She must of course have been brought -up elsewhere—so much at least he could tell from her accent; -and, for the rest, he had always maintained that, in these -latter days, the daughters of lower middle-class people stand -a better chance of a good education than any other girls in -the community: it was not altogether marvellous if one in a -thousand made a good use of it. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap19"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XIX. -<br /><br /> -"LEAVES OF GRASS." -</h3> - -<p> -The next day, while Mrs Hamilton was enjoying her afternoon -nap, Dudley seated himself as usual with his books; -but his head ached, and he soon gave up the attempt to -study. -</p> - -<p> -"For every hour I work to-day, I shall waste two to-morrow," -he said; and taking a volume of poetry from the shelf, -he strode down to the beach. -</p> - -<p> -Other people besides Mona knew of "Castle Maclean"; -perhaps some people had even discovered her predilection for -it. Dudley reached the spot in about half the time that she -would have taken, and scrambled up the huge uneven steps. -There, comfortably ensconced at the top, sat the subject of -his thoughts; a sketch-book open on her lap, and a well-used, -battered paint-box at her side. Dudley was too much -of an artist to dabble in colours himself, but he knew one -paint-box from another, and he was duly impressed. -</p> - -<p> -"I beg your pardon!" he said. "So you know this -place?" -</p> - -<p> -"It is my private property," she said with serene dignity, -very different from her bright, alert manner in the -shop,—"Castle Maclean." -</p> - -<p> -He bowed low. "Shall I disturb you if I stay?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not in the least." She put her head on one side, and -critically examined her sky. "Not unless your hat -absolutely comes between me and my subject." -</p> - -<p> -"Change in the weather, is not it?" -</p> - -<p> -"Has it not been glorious!" she said enthusiastically, -laying down her brush. "This rocky old coast was in -its element. It was something to live for, to see those -great waves dashing themselves into gigantic fountains of -spray." -</p> - -<p> -"You don't mean to say you were down here?" -</p> - -<p> -"Every minute that I could spare. Why not? A wetting -does one no harm in a primitive world like this." -</p> - -<p> -She glanced at his book and went on with her painting. -Neither of them had come there to talk, and why should -they feel called upon to do it? -</p> - -<p> -"This is scarcely a lady's book," he said,—though he -would not have thought this remark necessary to a "Girton -girl,"—"but, if I may, I think I could find one or two things -that you might like to hear." -</p> - -<p> -She smiled, well pleased. She had not forgotten how -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul,"<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -had rolled out in his musical bass. -</p> - -<p> -He read on for half an hour or so. Mona soon forgot her -sketch and sat listening, her head resting on her hand. -</p> - -<p> -He closed the book abruptly; he wanted no verbal thanks. -</p> - -<p> -"And now," he said, "for my reward. May I look at -your sketches?" -</p> - -<p> -She coloured awkwardly. How could she show them? -The scraps from Norway, and Italy, and Saxon Switzerland, -might be explained; but what of the memory sketches of -"the potent, grave, and reverend signiors" who had -examined her at Burlington House? What of the caricature, -which had amused the whole School, of Mademoiselle Lucy -undergoing a Viva? What of her <i>chef-d'œuvre</i>, the study of -the dissecting-room? -</p> - -<p> -"I promised Rachel that I would keep the dreadful -secret," she said ironically to herself, "and I am not going -to break my word." But it cost her an effort to refuse. -Some of the sketches were, in their way, undeniably clever, -and she would have enjoyed showing them to him; and, -moreover, she intensely disliked laying herself open to a -charge of false modesty. -</p> - -<p> -"I am sorry to seem so churlish," she said, "but I would -rather not show you the book." -</p> - -<p> -He was surprised, but her tone was absolutely final. There -was nothing more to be said. -</p> - -<p> -"If you like," she said shyly, "I will pay you back in a -poor counterfeit of your own coin. I will read to you, and -you shall close your eyes and listen to the plash of the waves. -That is one of my ideals of happiness." -</p> - -<p> -She took the book from the rock and began to read; but -he did not close his eyes. Her voice was not a remarkable -one like his own; but it was sympathetic, and her reading -suggested much more than it expressed. He enjoyed listening -to her, and he was interested in her choice of a poem; -but he liked best to watch her mobile, sensitive face. -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "One effort more, my altar this bleak sand;<br /> - That Thou, O God, my life hast lighted,<br /> - With ray of light, steady, ineffable, vouchsafed of Thee,<br /> - Light rare, untellable, lighting the very light,<br /> - Beyond all signs, descriptions, languages,"—<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -She seemed to be repeating the words from memory, not -reading them; for her eyes were fixed on the hills beyond -the sea, and her face was kindled for the moment into -absolute beauty. Then, for the first time, a distinct thought -passed through Dudley's mind that he would like the mother -of his children to have a face like that. -</p> - -<p> -"She would make a man noble in spite of himself," he -thought; but aloud he said— -</p> - -<p> -"You knew that poem?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"Did you know those I read?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not all of them. I knew <i>Vigil Strange</i> and <i>My Captain</i>." -</p> - -<p> -There was silence between them for a few moments. -</p> - -<p> -"Have you the smallest idea," he asked suddenly, "how -you are throwing yourself away?" -</p> - -<p> -She coloured, and was about to answer, but just then a -gust of wind caught a page of her sketch-book, and blew it -over. -</p> - -<p> -She laughed, glad of an excuse for changing the subject. -</p> - -<p> -"The Fates have apparently decreed," she said, "that you -are to see <i>this</i> sketch," and she held it out to him. -</p> - -<p> -It represented a red-cheeked, sonsy-faced girl, standing -before a mirror, trying on a plain little bonnet. On all -sides were suggestions of flowers and feathers, and brilliant -millinery; and in the girl's round eyes was an expression of -positive horror. -</p> - -<p> -Beneath the picture Mona had written, "Is life worth -living?" -</p> - -<p> -Dudley laughed. -</p> - -<p> -"That looks as if there ought to be a story connected with -it," he said. -</p> - -<p> -"Only a bit of one," and she gave him a somewhat cynical -account of her little scullery-maid. -</p> - -<p> -"I withdraw my remark," he said gravely. "You are not -throwing yourself away. Would that we were all using -ourselves to as much purpose!" -</p> - -<p> -"Don't make me feel myself more of a fool than I do -already." -</p> - -<p> -"Fool! I was wishing there were a few more fools in the -place to appreciate you—Ruskin for one!" -</p> - -<p> -"I did try to comfort myself with recollections of Ruskin," -she said, with a suspicion of tears in her laughter; "but I -could only think of the bit about the crossing-sweeper and -the hat with the feather." -</p> - -<p> -He smiled. "You do Ruskin too much honour when you -judge him by an isolated quotation," he said. "I thought -that distinction was reserved for the Bible." -</p> - -<p> -"But that is only the beginning of the story," said Mona. -"I have had several orders since for similar bonnets—more -from the mothers than from the girls themselves, I am sorry -to say,—and among them the one that suggested the sketch. -Have you ever seen Colonel Lawrence's quaint old -housekeeper up at the wood?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh yes. Everybody knows the Colonel's Jenny." -</p> - -<p> -"Her daughter went away to service some time ago, and -came home to visit her mother the other day, with all her -wages on her back, as Jenny expressed it,—such a poor, -little, rosy-cheeked, tawdry bit of humanity! The mother -marched her off to me in high dudgeon, and ordered a -bonnet 'like Polly's at the Towers'; and that is exactly how -the poor child looked when she tried it on. I could have -found it in my heart to beg her off myself. Talk of breaking -in a butterfly!" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," he said. "One is inclined to think that human -butterflies should be allowed to be butterflies—till one sees -them too near the candle!" -</p> - -<p> -"If we knew whether it were really worth while trying -to save them," said Mona, "I suppose we should indeed -'know what God and man is'; as it is, we can only act on -impulse. But this little Maggie does not belong to the -most puzzling class. She is a good little thing, after all. -I should not wonder if she had the germ of a soul stowed -away somewhere." -</p> - -<p> -"She is a Maggie, is she?" he said, returning with a smile -to the baby-face in the picture. "They are all Maggies here. -One gets perfectly sick of the name." -</p> - -<p> -"Does one?" said Mona. "Queen Margaret is a heroine -of mine, and my very own saint to boot." -</p> - -<p> -"Are you a Margaret?" he said. "You look like one. It -is partly because the name is so beautiful that one resents -that senseless 'Maggie.'" -</p> - -<p> -Mona was just going to say that with her it was only an -unused second name; but his face had grown very grave -again, and she did not wish to jar on his mood. How little -we can tell in life what actions or omissions will throw their -light or shadow over our whole future! -</p> - -<p> -"What right have we," he said musingly at last, "to say -what is normal and what is not? How can we presume to -make one ideal of virtue the standard for all? Look round -the world boldly—not through the medium of tinted glass—and -choose at random a dozen types. If there be a God -at all, it is awful to think of His catholicity!" -</p> - -<p> -Mona looked up with a smile. -</p> - -<p> -"Forgive me, Miss Maclean," he said. "I have no right -to talk like that." -</p> - -<p> -"Why not? Is life never to be relieved by a strong -picturesque statement? It takes a lot of conflicting -utterances to make up a man's <i>Credo</i>. When I want neat, little, -compatible sentences, I resort to my cookery-book. Did you -think," she added mischievously, "that I would place you -on a pedestal with Ruskin and my Bible, and judge you by -an isolated quotation?" -</p> - -<p> -He laughed, and then grew suddenly grave. -</p> - -<p> -"Talking," he said, "is <i>mein Verderben</i>. That is why I -have chosen a profession that will give me no scope for -it—not that I seem likely to make much of the profession, now -that it is chosen! You see—my circumstances have been -peculiar, and my education has been different in some respects -from that of most men." He hesitated, and then, without a -word of introduction, urged by some irresistible impulse, he -plunged into the story of his life. Perhaps he was anxious -to see how it looked in the eyes of a capable woman; -certainly he regarded Mona as a wholly exceptional being, -in his intercourse with whom he was bound by no ordinary -rules. -</p> - -<p> -"I left school when I was sixteen," he said, "laden with -prizes and medals and all that sort of thing. It was my -misfortune, not my fault, that I had a good deal of money to -spend on my education, and a free hand as to the spending -of it. I am inclined sometimes to envy fellows whose parents -leave them no voice in the matter at all. -</p> - -<p> -"I went first to Edinburgh University for three years, and -took my M.A. There are worse degrees in the world than an -Edinburgh M.A. It means no culture, no University life, -no rubbing up against one's fellow-men; but it does mean a -solid foundation of all-round, useful information, which no -man need despise, and which is not heavy enough to -extinguish the slumbering fires of genius should they chance to -lie beneath. Of course, it is impossible to tell <i>a priori</i> -what will prove an <i>education</i> to any man. -</p> - -<p> -"When I left Edinburgh, I announced my intention of -going to Cambridge. The classical professor wanted me to -go in for the classical tripos, and the mathematical professor -urged me to stick to the 'eternal,' of which he believes -mathematics to be the sole manifestation granted to erring -humanity. But I was determined to have a go at Natural -Science. There was a great deal of loose scientific talk in -the air, and people seemed to make so much of a minimum -of knowledge that I fancied three years of conscientious -work would take a man straight in behind the veil. I went -to work enthusiastically at first, while hope was strong, -more quietly later when I realised that at most I might -move back the veil an inch or two, while infinity lay behind; -that humanity might possibly in three hundred years accomplish -what I had hoped to do in three. Of course, I might -have added my infinitesimal might of labour and research, -but I was not specially fitted for it. The difficulty all my -life has been to find out what I was specially fitted for. -However, I took my degree." -</p> - -<p> -"Tripos?" said Mona. -</p> - -<p> -"Third Class," he said contemptuously. "But I was not -reading for a place. And, indeed, I grew more in those three -years than in any other three of my life. Possibly it was -the life at Cambridge. Possibly I might have accomplished -more on the plains of Thibet." -</p> - -<p> -He drew a long breath. He had wellnigh forgotten who -his companion was, and talked on to give vent to his feelings. -After all, it mattered little if she missed a point here and -there. She would grasp as much of the spirit of the story -as most confessors do. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, then, I travelled for a couple of years. I studied -at Heidelberg, and Göttingen, and Jena. I heard good -music nearly every night, and I saw all the cathedrals and -picture-galleries. Then I came home, determined to choose -a profession. I chose medicine, mainly for the reason I gave -you, and I studied in London for the examinations of the -colleges. Why did I not choose the University? Would -that I had! But you see I was past the age when boys 'get -up' a subject with ease, and walk through brilliant examinations; -and, moreover, in spite of a popular superstition to -the contrary effect, two years of travel and art, and music -and philosophy, do not tend to furbish up a man's -mathematics and classics and natural science. -</p> - -<p> -"Six months after I began to study I loathed medicine. -To use a favourite expression here, it was neither fish, flesh, -fowl, nor guid red herrin'. It was neither art, science, -literature, nor philosophy. It was a hideous pot-pourri of all -four, with a preponderating, overwhelming admixture of -arrant humbug. Hitherto I had worked fairly well, but -there had never been any moral value in my work. It was -done <i>con amore</i>. Now that the <i>amor</i> failed, I scarcely -worked at all. I suppose it was one of Nature's revenges -that, as I had gone into a profession because it demanded -silent work, I talked more in those years than at any other -period of my life. I read all things rather than medicine, -I moved in any society rather than the medical world, but I -rubbed along somehow. I passed my first examination by -a fluke, and I passed the second likewise. I never was at a -loss for a brilliant theory to account for erroneous facts, and -with some examiners that goes a long way. When it came -to preparing for my Final, I hated surgery because I had -scamped my anatomy. Medicine might have shared the -same fate, but I had done a good deal of physiology in -Gaskell's laboratory at Cambridge—more than was necessary, in -fact—for the supposed connection between physiology and -medicine is a purely fictitious one. The student has to take -a header blindfold from the one to the other. It is almost -incredible, but when I went up for my Final in due course, I -did scrape through by the skin of my teeth. If ever any -man got through those three examinations without a spill on -the strength of less knowledge than I did, I should like to -shake that man's hand. He deserves to be congratulated. -</p> - -<p> -"The next thing was to look out for a practice, or a <i>locum -tenency</i>; but, before doing so, I went down to Cambridge -to visit some friends. While there I saw a good deal of -M'Diarmid, the Professor of Anatomy. I don't know if you -ever heard of him, but if ever a man made literal dry bones -live, he does. Thoroughgoing to the soles of his boots—a -monument of erudition—and yet with a mind open to fresh -light as regards the minutest detail." -</p> - -<p> -Mona flushed crimson, but fortunately he was not looking. -This was indeed approaching dangerous ground. She was -strongly inclined to think that the professor in question was -one of "the potent, grave, and reverend signiors" in her -sketch-book. -</p> - -<p> -"It was so odd," continued Dudley. "All my life, while -other men walked in shadow, I had seemed to see the light -of the eternal, but in medicine I had missed it absolutely. -Ah, well! one word will do for a thousand. I am afraid I -wrote my 'Sorrows of Werther' once more, for the last time -in this world let us hope, and then I began all over again -to work for a London degree." -</p> - -<p> -He stopped with an unpleasant sensation of self-consciousness. -"And I wonder why I have inflicted all this on you," -he said, a little coldly. -</p> - -<p> -"I think it was a grand thing to do—to begin over again." -said Mona. "You will make a magnificent doctor when you -do take your degree, and none of those past years will be -lost. You will be a famous professor yourself some day. -How far have you got?" -</p> - -<p> -"I passed the Matriculation almost immediately, and the -Preliminary Scientific six months after. In July, I go in for -my Intermediate, and two years later comes my Final. Once -the Intermediate is over, a load will be taken off my mind. -It is all grist that comes to one's mill after that, but it -requires a little resolution to plod along side by side with mere -schoolboys, as most of the students are." -</p> - -<p> -"It must be an excellent thing for the schoolboys." -</p> - -<p> -She was wishing with all her heart that she could tell him -her story in return for his. Why had she made that absurd -promise to Rachel? And what would Rachel think if she -claimed permission to make an exception in Dr Dudley's -favour? It was all too ridiculous, and when she began to -think of it, she was inclined to wonder whether she really -was the Mona Maclean who had studied medicine in -London. -</p> - -<p> -"Why, it is after five," said Dudley suddenly, looking at -his watch. -</p> - -<p> -Mona sprang to her feet, and then remembered with relief -that, as Rachel was going out to tea, she need not be -punctual. -</p> - -<p> -"But I ought to have been in time to prevent her wearing -the scarlet cap," she thought with a pang of self-reproach. -</p> - -<p> -"Shall you go on with your sketch to-morrow?" asked -Dudley, as they walked up to the road. -</p> - -<p> -"To-morrow? No; my cousin is going to take me to -St Rules." -</p> - -<p> -"I thought Miss Simpson was your aunt?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, she is my father's cousin—one of the very few -relatives I have." -</p> - -<p> -Dudley was relieved, he scarcely knew why. -</p> - -<p> -"I might have known my old lady was not likely to know -much about any one in the village," he thought. -</p> - -<p> -"Have you never been to St Rules?" he said aloud. -"That is a treat in store. Almost every stone in it has a -history. But I have an appointment now with my aunt in -Kirkstoun—I hate saying good-bye, don't you?" -</p> - -<p> -"I do." -</p> - -<p> -"I mean quite apart from the parting involved." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, quite!" -</p> - -<p> -He looked at her with curious eagerness, and then held -out his hand. Apparently he had no objection to that. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, so long!" -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Sans adieu!</i>" -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Mona sighed as she re-entered the dreary little sitting-room. -However freely she might let the breezes of heaven blow -through the house in Rachel's absence, the rooms seemed to -be as musty as ever five minutes after the windows had been -shut. -</p> - -<p> -The autumn evenings were growing chilly, but the white -curtains, by the laws of the Medes and Persians, had to -remain on duty a little longer; and great as was Mona's -partiality for a good fire, the thermometer must have -registered a very low figure indeed before she could have -taken refuge in Sally's kitchen—at any other time than on -Saturday afternoon, immediately after the weekly cleaning. -</p> - -<p> -Tea was on the table. It had stood there since five -o'clock. -</p> - -<p> -Mona sighed again. -</p> - -<p> -"If one divides servants," she said, "into three classes—those, -who can be taught to obey orders in the spirit, those -who can be taught to obey orders in the letter, and those -who cannot be taught to obey orders at all—Sally is a bad -second, with an occasional strong tendency to lapse into the -third. I wish she had seen fit to lapse into the third -to-night." -</p> - -<p> -She pushed aside the cold buttered toast, helped herself to -overdrawn tea, and glanced with a shiver at the shavings in -the grate. In another moment her sorrows were forgotten. -Leaning against the glass shade of the gilt clock on the -mantelpiece, smiling at her across the room, stood a fair, fat, -friendly budget in Lady Munro's handwriting. -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Gaudeamus igitur!</i>" Mona seized the tea-cosy, tossed it -up to the ceiling, and caught it again with an affectionate -squeeze. -</p> - -<p> -How delightful that the letter should come when she was -alone! Now she could get the very maximum of enjoyment -out of it. She stalked it stealthily, lest it should "vanish -into thin air" before her eyes, took hold of it gingerly, -examined the post-mark, smelt the faint perfume which, more -than anything else, reminded her of the beautiful gracious -woman in the rooms at Gloucester Place, and then opened -the envelope carefully with her penknife. -</p> - -<p> -She took out the contents, and arranged her three treasures -on the table. Yes, there were three. They had all -written. There was Sir Douglas's "My dear girl"; Lady -Munro's "My darling Mona"; and Evelyn's "My very own -dearest friend." -</p> - -<p> -They were not clever letters at all, but they were affectionate -and characteristic; and Mona laughed and cried over -them, as she sat curled up in the corner of the stiff -unyielding sofa. Sir Douglas was bluff and fatherly, and to the -point. Lady Munro underlined every word that she would -have emphasised in speaking. "Douglas was so dull and so -cross after we parted from you. In fact even now he is -constantly talking of you—<i>constantly</i>." Evelyn gave a detailed -circumstantial account of all they had done since Mona had -left them,—an account interspersed with many protestations -of affection. "Mother and I start for Cannes almost -immediately," she wrote. "Of course Father cannot be induced -to leave Scotland as long as there is a bird on the moors. -Write me long letters as often as ever you can. You do -write such lovely letters." All three reminded Mona repeatedly -of her promise to spend the whole of next summer with -them somewhere. -</p> - -<p> -"How good they are!" Mona kept repeating. "How -good they are!" -</p> - -<p> -When Mona was young, like every well-conducted school-girl, -she had formed passionate attachments, and had nearly -broken her heart when "eternal friendships" failed. "I -will expect no friendship, no constancy in life," she had -said. "I will remember that here I have no continuing -city—even in the hearts of the people I love. I will hold -life and love with a loose grasp." -</p> - -<p> -And even now, when increasing years were making her -more healthily human, true friendship and constancy had -invariably called out a feeling of glad surprise. At every -turn the world was proving kinder to her than she had dared -to hope. -</p> - -<p> -She was still deep in the letters when her cousin came -home. -</p> - -<p> -"Well," said Rachel, "I've just heard a queer thing. -You know the work I had last week, teaching Mrs Robertson -the stitch for that tidy? Well, she had some friends in -to tea last night, and she never asked me! Did you ever -hear the like of that? She thinks she's just going to get -her use out of me!" -</p> - -<p> -"I expect, dear," said Mona, "that the stitch proved -more than she could manage after all, and she was afraid to -confess it." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, I never did know any one so slow at the crochet," -said Rachel resentfully, releasing the wonderful red cap from -its basket. "She may look for some other body to help her -the next time. But we'd better take our porridge and be off -to our beds, if we're going to St Rules to-morrow." -</p> - -<p> -Mona read her letters once more in her own room, and -then another thought asserted itself unexpectedly. -</p> - -<p> -"I wish with all my heart that I could have shown him -the sketch-book, and made a clean breast of it," she said to -her trusty friend in the glass; "and yet"—her attitude -changed—"why should he stand on a different footing from -everybody else?" -</p> - -<p> -The face in the glass looked back defiantly, and did not -seem prepared with any answer. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap20"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XX. -<br /><br /> -ST RULES. -</h3> - -<p> -When Mona appeared at the breakfast-table next morning, -Rachel regarded her with critical dissatisfaction. -</p> - -<p> -"I wonder you don't get tired of that dress," she said, as -she poured out the tea—from the brown teapot. "It's -very nice of course, and as good as new, but changes are -lightsome, and one would think you would sometimes prefer -to wear something more youthful-like. Pity your print's -at the wash." -</p> - -<p> -Mona looked out of the window. -</p> - -<p> -"I have another," she said, "if you think it won't rain." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh no. And besides, you can take your waterproof." -</p> - -<p> -"It's not so much that I mind getting anything spoiled, -as that I hate to be dressed unsuitably; but I do think it is -going to be a beautiful day." -</p> - -<p> -She left the room as soon as she had finished breakfast, -and returned in about ten minutes. -</p> - -<p> -"A gavotte in cream and gold," she said, making a low -curtsey. "I hope it meets with your approval." -</p> - -<p> -"My word!" said Rachel, "you do look the lady! and -it's cheap stuff too. Why, I declare you would pass for a -beauty if you took the trouble to dress well. It's wonderful -how you become that hat!" -</p> - -<p> -"Took a little trouble to dress well!" ejaculated Mona -mentally. "A nice thing to say to a woman who makes -dress her first aim in life!" -</p> - -<p> -They walked in to Kirkstoun, and there took the coach. -Mona would fain have gone outside, but Rachel wanted to -point out the lions they passed on the way, and she -considered that they got their "penny's worth" better inside. -Fortunately there were not many passengers, and Mona -succeeded in placing herself on the windward side of two -fishwives. -</p> - -<p> -About noon they reached St Rules, and wandered rather -aimlessly through the streets, paying incidental visits to the -various places of note. Rachel had about as much idea -of acting the part of cicerone as she had of trimming hats, -or making scones, or keeping shop, or indeed of doing -anything useful; and she was in a constant state of nervous -perturbation, lest some officious guide should force his -services upon them, and then expect a gratuity. -</p> - -<p> -The season was over and the visitors were few, so Mona's -pretty gown attracted not a little attention. Simple as it -was, she regretted fifty times that she had put it on; -Rachel's dress would have escaped notice but for the -contrast between them. -</p> - -<p> -It was positively a welcome interlude when they arrived -at the pastry-cook's; but at the door Rachel stood aside -obsequiously, to give place to a lady who came up behind -them "in her carriage;" and then gave her own order in a -shamefaced undertone, as if she had no right to make use of -the shop at the same moment as so distinguished a personage. -Poor Mona! She thought once more of Lady Munro, -and she sighed. -</p> - -<p> -"The only other thing that we really need to see," said -Rachel, wiping her hands on a crumpled paper bag that -happened to lie beside her, "is the Castle. I'll be glad to -rest my legs a bit, while you run round and look about -you." -</p> - -<p> -She had at least shown her good sense in reserving the -Castle as a <i>bonne bouche</i>. Mona's irritation vanished as she -stood in the enclosure and saw the velvety green turf under -foot, the broad blue sky overhead, the bold outline of ruined -masonry round about, and the "white horses" rifling in on -the rugged coast below. She was wandering hither and -thither, examining every nook and cranny, when suddenly, -in an out-of-the-way corner she came upon a young man and -a girl in earnest conversation. The girl started and turned -her back, and Mona left them in peace. -</p> - -<p> -"Surely I have seen that face before," she thought, "and -not very long ago. I know! It is that silly little minx, -Matilda Cookson. I hope the young man is up to no -mischief." -</p> - -<p> -In another moment the "silly little minx" was swept out -of her mind; for, standing on a grassy knoll, laughing and -talking with Rachel, she saw Dr Dudley. -</p> - -<p> -An instinctive rush of surprise and pleasure, a feeling of -uneasiness at the thought of what Rachel might be saying, -a sense of satisfaction in her own fresh girlish gown,—all -these passed through Mona's mind, as she crossed the open -space in the sunshine. -</p> - -<p> -"Well," said Dudley, as she joined them, "this can give -a point or two even to Castle Maclean." -</p> - -<p> -"Do you think so?" she responded gravely. "That is -high praise." -</p> - -<p> -He laughed. "Have you seen that gruesome dungeon?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not properly. I am on my way to it now." -</p> - -<p> -He turned to walk with her, and they leant over the -railing looking down on the blackness below. A few feet -from the top of the dungeon a magnificent hart's-tongue -fern sprang from a crevice, and curled its delicate, -pale-green fronds over the dank, dark stone. -</p> - -<p> -"How lovely!" said Mona. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," he said. "And it is not only the force of -contrast. Its gloomy surroundings really do make it more -beautiful." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," said Mona relentlessly; "but it is not what -Nature meant it to be." -</p> - -<p> -"True," he replied. "Yet who would wish it transplanted!" -</p> - -<p> -Presently he turned away, and looked over the rough -blue sea. -</p> - -<p> -"This place depresses me unspeakably," he said. "It -reminds me of a book of 'martyr stories' I had when I was -a child. I have a mental picture now of a family sitting -round a blazing fire, and saying in awestruck whispers, 'It's -no' sae cheery as this the nicht i' the sea tower by St -Rules.' What appalling ideas of history they give us when -we are children!" And he added half absently— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "'Sitzt das kleine Menschenkind<br /> - An dem Ocean der Zeit,<br /> - Schöpft mit seiner kleinen Hand<br /> - Tropfen aus der Ewigkeit.'"<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Mona looked up with sparkling eyes and made answer— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "'Schöpfte nicht das kleine Menschenkind<br /> - Tropfen aus dem Ocean der Zeit,<br /> - Was geschieht verwehte wie der Wind<br /> - In den Abgrund öder Ewigkeit.'"<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -"Go on, go on," she said, regardless of his unconcealed -surprise, "the best thought comes last." So he took up the -strain again:— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "'Tropfen aus dem Ocean der Zeit<br /> - Schöpft das Mennchenkind mit kleiner Hand.<br /> - Spiegelt doch, dem Lichte zugewandt,<br /> - Sich darin die ganze Ewigkeit.'"<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -"I don't know," he said moodily. "There was precious -little of Eternity in the drops that were doled out to me." -</p> - -<p> -"Not then," said Mona; "but when you were old enough to -turn them to the light, you could see the eternal even there." -</p> - -<p> -His face relaxed into a smile. This girl was like an -outlying part of his own mind. -</p> - -<p> -They strolled slowly back to Rachel. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you enjoy sight-seeing?" he asked. -</p> - -<p> -"The question is too big. Cut it down." -</p> - -<p> -"Nay, I will judge for myself,—if you are not too tired -to turn back to the town." -</p> - -<p> -"Not a bit." -</p> - -<p> -When Rachel heard of the proposal, she rose to her feet, -with considerable help from Mona and from a stout umbrella. -She would fain have "rested her legs" a little longer, and -the necessity of acting the part of chaperon never so much -as crossed her mind; but the honour of Dr Dudley's escort -through the streets of St Rules was not to be lightly -foregone. -</p> - -<p> -The first half-hour brought considerably more pain than -pleasure to Mona. She was straining every nerve to draw -out the best side of Rachel; and this, under the -circumstances, was no easy task. -</p> - -<p> -Rachel's manner was often simple, natural, and even -admirable, when she was speaking to her inferiors; but the -society of any one whom she chose to consider her superior -was sure to draw out her innate vulgarity. Mona understood -Dr Dudley well enough to know that he had no regal -disregard for what are known as "appearances," and she -suffered more for him than for herself. -</p> - -<p> -It did not occur to her that Rachel was acting very -effectively the part of the damp, black wall, which was -throwing the dainty fern into more brilliant relief. -</p> - -<p> -"It is all his own doing," sho thought indignantly. -"Why has he brought this upon himself and me? And it -will fall upon me to keep Rachel from talking about it for -the next week." -</p> - -<p> -Fortunately, though Rachel trudged about gallantly to -the last, she soon became too tired to talk, and then Mona -gave herself up to the enjoyment of the hour. Either Dr -Dudley knew St Rules by heart, or he possessed a magnetic -power of alighting on the things that were worth seeing. -Curious manuscripts and half-effaced inscriptions; stained-glass -windows and fine bits of carving; forgotten paintings, -and quaint old vergers and janitors who had become a part -of the buildings in which they had grown old;—all served -in turn as the text for his brilliant talk. He might well -say that talking was his Verderben. -</p> - -<p> -Finally they wandered again through the ruins of the -cathedral. -</p> - -<p> -"'Pull down the nests and the rooks will fly away!'" -quoted Dudley rather bitterly. "Here at least we have the -other side of the 'martyr stories.'" -</p> - -<p> -"I think sight-seeing is simply delightful," said Mona, as -he stowed them into the coach; "but one wants special -eyes to do it with." -</p> - -<p> -"Everything becomes more interesting when seen 'through -a temperament,'" he said. "I am glad if mine has served -as a makeshift." -</p> - -<p> -"She won't spot <i>that</i> reference," he thought to himself. -</p> - -<p> -That evening all three made reflections about the day's -outing. -</p> - -<p> -"It came off wonderfully well, considering that I went in -search of it," thought Dudley. "I fully expected it to be a -dead failure. She must have met the draper accidentally." -</p> - -<p> -"He is very gentlemanly and amazingly clever," thought -Rachel; "and he seemed as pleased at the meeting as any -of us. But how my legs <i>do</i> ache!" -</p> - -<p> -"I'll no more of this masquerading!" thought Mona. -"I will take the first opportunity of asking Rachel's -permission to tell him the whole truth. Perhaps he will take -it all as a matter of course." -</p> - -<p> -But when she went up to dinner the next day, Rachel -calmly informed her that Dr Dudley had gone. "He has -just walked up to the station with a bag in his hand," she -said, "and Bill had a lot of luggage on a hurley. I think -it's a queer sort of thing that he didn't look in and say -good-bye, after we were all so friendly-like yesterday." -</p> - -<p> -Mona smiled a little drearily. -</p> - -<p> -"He might well say 'so long,'" she said to herself, an -hour later, as she sat on the battlements of Castle Maclean. -"Looked at in the abstract, as a period of time, three months -is a pretty fair sample of the commodity!" -</p> - -<p> -Thus does, the feminine mind, while striving to grasp the -abstract, fall back inevitably into the concrete! -</p> - -<p> -"As a man," said Mona, "he is not a patch upon the -Sahib; but I never had such a playfellow in my life!" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap21"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXI. -<br /><br /> -THE FLYING SCOTCHMAN. -</h3> - -<p> -"What do you think, my dear?" said Rachel, a few days -later, with beaming face. "I have just had a letter from -my niece. Would you like to hear it?" -</p> - -<p> -"Very much," said Mona, "'First Impressions of a -New Continent.' Is it the first you have had?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, it's the second. She's no great hand at the letter-writing. -But there's more 'impressions' in this. She says -the difficulty of getting servants is beyond everything." -</p> - -<p> -Rachel proceeded to read the epistle: and for once Mona -found herself in absolute accord with her cousin. Rachel's -niece was certainly "no great hand at the letter-writing." -</p> - -<p> -It was evening, and Mona had just come in from a stroll -in the twilight. She did not often go out after tea, but -there was no denying the fact that the last few days had -not been very lively ones, and that physical exercise had -become more desirable than ever. She had not realised, till -he was gone, that Dr Dudley's occasional companionship -made any appreciable difference in the world at Borrowness; -but she did not now hesitate for a moment to acknowledge -the truth to herself. -</p> - -<p> -"It is almost as if I had lost Doris or Lucy," she said; -"and of course, in a place like this, sympathetic companionship -is at a premium. One might go into a melancholia here -over the loss of an intelligent dog or a favourite canary. -The fact that so many women have fallen in love throws -a lurid light on the lives they must have led. Poor souls! -I will write to Tilbury to-morrow to send me my little box -of books. Two hours' hard reading a day is a panacea for -most things." -</p> - -<p> -With this wholesome resolution she returned from her -walk, to find Rachel in a state of beatification over her -niece's letter. -</p> - -<p> -"I declare I quite forgot," she said; "there's a parcel -and letter for you too. I think you'll find them on the -chair by the door." -</p> - -<p> -"Nothing of much interest," said Mona; "at least I -don't know the handwriting on either. A begging-letter, -I expect." -</p> - -<p> -She proceeded to open the parcel first, untying the knot -very deliberately, and speculating vaguely as to the cause -of the curious damp smell about the wrappings. "Fancy -Ruching" in gilt letters on one end of the box was -apparently a misleading title; for, when the cover was -removed, a mass of damp vegetation came to view. -</p> - -<p> -Rachel lifted her hands in horror. The idea of bringing -caterpillars and earwigs and the like of that into the house! -</p> - -<p> -On the top of the box lay a sheet of moist writing-paper -folded lengthwise. Mona took it up. -</p> - -<p> -"Why," she said, "how very kind! It is from Mr -Brown. He has been out botanising, and has sent me -the fruits of an afternoon's ramble." -</p> - -<p> -"The man must be daft!" thought Rachel, "to pay -the postage on stuff that anybody else would put on the -ash-heap. The very box isn't fit to use after having that -rubbish inside it." -</p> - -<p> -Fortunately, before she could give utterance to her -thoughts, a brilliant idea flashed into her mind. Regarded -absolutely, the box might be rubbish; but relatively, it -might prove to be of enormous value. -</p> - -<p> -Everybody knew that the draper was "daft"; but nobody -considered him any the less eligible in consequence, -either as a provost or as a husband. For the matter of -that, Mona was "daft" too. She cared as much about -these bits of weed and stick as the draper did. There would -be a pair of them in that respect. And then—how wonderfully -things do come about in life!—Mona would find a -field for her undeniable gifts in the shopkeeping line. At Mr -Brown's things were done on as large a scale as even she -could desire; and if she were called upon some day to fill -the proud position of "provost's lady," what other girl in -the place would look the part so well? -</p> - -<p> -Of course the house at Borrowness would be sadly dull -without her. But she might want to go away some time in -any case, and at Kilwinnie she would always be within -reach. Rachel would not admit even to herself that it -might almost be a relief in some ways to be delivered from -the quiet thoughtful look of those bright young eyes. -</p> - -<p> -She beamed, and glowed, and would have winked, if there -had been any one but Mona to wink to. With her of course -she must dissemble, till things had got on a little farther. -In the meantime, Mr Brown, quiet as he looked, seemed -quite capable of fighting his own battles; though if any one -had sent her such a box in her young days, she would have -regarded it in the light of a mock valentine. -</p> - -<p> -She longed to know what Mr Brown had said; but, when -Mona handed her the letter, she found it sadly disappointing. -In so far as it was not written in an unknown tongue, -it seemed to be all about the plants; and who in the world -had ever taken the trouble to give such grand names to -things that grew in every potato-bed that was not properly -looked after? But of course tastes did differ, and no doubt -daft people understood each other. -</p> - -<p> -Poor Rachel! This disappointment was nothing to the -one in store for her. Mona had opened the -"begging-letter," and had turned white to the lips. -</p> - -<p> -"I must start by the early train to-morrow," she said, -"and try to catch the Flying Scotchman. A little friend -of mine in London is very ill." -</p> - -<p> -It had proved to be a begging-letter indeed, but not of -the kind she had supposed. It came from Lucy's father, -Mr Reynolds. -</p> - -<p> -"The doctor says that Lucy is in no actual danger," he -wrote, "but she adds that her temperature must not go any -higher. The child is fretting so for you that I am afraid -this alone is enough to increase the fever. She was not -very well when she left us to return to London a week ago; -but our country doctor assured me there was no reason -to keep her at home. Of course, Lucy had sent for a -woman doctor before I arrived; and cordially as I approve -her choice, a moment like this seems to call one's old -prejudices, with other morbid growths, to life. Dr Alice -Bateson seems very capable and is most attentive, but I need -not deny that it would be a great relief to me to have you -here. Lucy's mother is too much of an invalid to travel so -far, and you have been like an elder sister to her for years. -</p> - -<p> -"I know well that I need not apologise for the trouble to -which I am putting you. I fully expect my little girl to -improve from the moment she hears that I have written." -</p> - -<p> -Mona read this aloud, adding, "I will go out and -telegraph to him at once." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, I'm sure," said Rachel, "it's a deal of trouble to -take for a mere acquaintance—not even a blood relation." -</p> - -<p> -"Lucy is more than a mere acquaintance," said Mona, -with a quiver in her voice. "She has been, as he says, -a little sister." -</p> - -<p> -"What does he say is the matter?" -</p> - -<p> -"Rheumatic fever." -</p> - -<p> -"Then," said Rachel bitterly, "I suppose I may send -your boxes after you?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, no," said Mona, forcing herself to speak playfully; -"a bargain is a bargain, and I mean to keep you to yours. -Six months is in the bond. I will come back as soon -as Lucy is well on the way to recovery—within a week, -I hope. You know rheumatic fever is not the lengthy -affair that it used to be. I assure you, dear, a visit to -London is the very last thing I want at present. So -far as I personally am concerned, I would infinitely rather -stay with you. But I am not of so much use here that I -should refuse to go to people who really need me." -</p> - -<p> -If she wanted a crumb of encouragement, she was not -disappointed, although Rachel was one of the people who do -not find it easy to grant such crumbs. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, I'm sure that's just what you are," she said. "I -don't know what I am to do without you, and everybody -says the shop has been a different place since you came." With -a great effort she refrained from referring to stronger -reasons still against Mona's departure. -</p> - -<p> -Mona kissed her on the forehead. -</p> - -<p> -"Then expect me back this day week or sooner," she -said. "You don't want me more than I want to come." -</p> - -<p> -This was the literal truth. When she had laid her plans, -she was not grateful to the unfriendly Fates who interfered -with their execution; she was honestly interested in her -life at Borrowness; and it was a positive trial to return to -London, a deserter at least for the time, just when all the -scholastic world, with bustle and stir, was preparing for a -new campaign. -</p> - -<p> -She went to the post-office and sent off her telegram to -Mr Reynolds, and another to Doris announcing the fact that -she was going to London for a few days, and would be at -the Waverley Station before ten the next morning. This -done, she returned to the house, wrote a friendly note to Mr -Brown, packed her valise, and spent the rest of the evening -with Rachel and "Mrs Poyser." -</p> - -<p> -She did not pass a very peaceful night. It was all very -well to say that Lucy's temperature "must not go any -higher"; but what if it did? If it had continued to rise -ever since the letter was written, what might be the result -even now? Mona had seen several such cases in hospital, -and she remembered one especially, in which cold baths, -ice-packs, and all other remedies had not been sufficient -to prevent a lad's life from being burnt out in a few -days. She tossed restlessly from side to side, and what -sleep she got was little better than a succession of -nightmares. She was thankful to rise even earlier than was -necessary, and to busy herself with some of Mr Brown's -specimens. -</p> - -<p> -But, early as she was, Rachel was up before her, cutting -bulky, untempting sandwiches; and when the train carried -Mona away, an unexpected tear coursed down the flabby old -cheek. -</p> - -<p> -On the platform at Edinburgh stood Doris, fresh as a lily. -</p> - -<p> -"It's very good of you to come," said Mona. "I did not -half expect to see you." -</p> - -<p> -"My dear," was the calm announcement, "I am going all -the way." -</p> - -<p> -"Nonsense!" -</p> - -<p> -"Father remarked most opportunely that I seemed to be -in need of a little change, and I gave him no peace till he -allowed me to come with you. He admitted that such an -opportunity might not occur again. He would have been -here to see us off, but he had a big consultation at ten. -You will show me the school and the hospital and -everything, won't you?" -</p> - -<p> -"That I will," said Mona. -</p> - -<p> -That she would at all have preferred to keep away from -her old haunts and companions, just at present, never crossed -the mind of large-souled Doris. "Mona capable of such -pettiness!" she would have said in reply to the suggestion. -"You little know her!" -</p> - -<p> -"One has not much space for <i>minutiæ</i> in a telegram," -said Mona, "or I would have explained that I am going to -see a friend who is very ill. You have heard me speak of -Lucy Reynolds?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I am sorry! But I shall not be in your way, you -know. If you can spare a few hours some day, that is all I -want." -</p> - -<p> -"It is a matter of no moment of course, but do you -happen to have any notion where you mean to put up?" -</p> - -<p> -"I shall go to my aunt in Park Street of course, the one -whose 'At Homes' you so loftily refused to attend. Father -telegraphed to her last night, and I got a very cordial reply -before I started. In point of fact, she is always glad to -have me without notice. We don't stand on ceremony on -either side." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, you are a delightful person! I know no one who -can do such sensible, satisfactory things without preliminary -fuss. Shall we take our seats?" -</p> - -<p> -"I took the seats long ago—two nice window seats in a -third-class carriage. Your friend the 'pepper-pot' has duly -deposited my wraps in one, and my dressing-bag in the -other, and is now mounting guard in case of accident. You -have plenty of time to have a cup of coffee at Spiers & -Pond's." -</p> - -<p> -In a few minutes they seated themselves in the carriage, -dismissed the "pepper-pot," and launched into earnest -conversation. Not till the train was starting did Mona raise -her eyes, and then they alighted on a friendly, familiar figure, -At the extreme end of the platform stood the Sahib. All -unaware that she was in the train, he was waving his hat to -some one else, his fine muscular figure reducing all the other -men on the platform, by force of contrast, to mere pigmies. -</p> - -<p> -When Mona saw him it was too late even to bow, and -she turned away from the window, her face flushed with -disappointment. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, Doris," she said, "that was the Sahib!" -</p> - -<p> -"And who," asked Doris, "may the Sahib be?" -</p> - -<p> -"A Mr Dickinson. I saw a good deal of him in Norway -this summer. He is a great friend of the Munros, you -know. Such a good fellow! The sort of man whom all -women instinctively look upon as a brother." -</p> - -<p> -"The type is a rare one," said Doris coldly, "but I -suppose it does exist." -</p> - -<p> -The conversation had struck the vein of her cynicism now, -though the men who knew "the lily maid" would have -been much surprised to hear that such a vein existed, and, -most of all, to hear that it lay just there. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't think any of us can doubt that there is such a -type," said Mona. "Certainly no one doubts it who has -the privilege of knowing the Sahib." -</p> - -<p> -Doris did not answer, and they sat for some time in -silence, the line on Mona's brow gradually deepening. -</p> - -<p> -"Dearest," said Doris at last, "I don't bore you, do I? -You would not rather be alone?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona laughed. "What will you do if I say 'Yes'?" she -said. "Pull the cord and pay the fine? or jump out of the -window? My dear, I could count on the fingers of one -hand the times when you have bored me, and I am particularly -glad to have you to-day. I should fret myself to death -if I were alone, between anxiety about Lucy, and vexation -at having missed the Sahib." -</p> - -<p> -Doris's face clouded. "Mona dear, I do wish the Munros -had stayed in India till you had got on the Register. I don't -approve of men whom all women instinctively look upon as -brothers. Marriage is perfectly fatal to students of either sex." -</p> - -<p> -"Marriage!" said Mona, aghast. "Marry the Sahib! -My dear Doris, I would as soon think of marrying you!" -</p> - -<p> -"I wish you would," said Doris calmly; "but I would -not have a word to say to you till you had got on the -Register. Oh how lovely!" -</p> - -<p> -The train had emerged on the open coast, and every line -and curve on creek and cliff stood out sharp and clear in the -crisp light of the October morning. -</p> - -<p> -"Isn't it?" The line on Mona's brow vanished. "You -know, Doris, I believe I am a bit of the east coast, I love it -so. Heigh-ho! I do think Lucy must be better." -</p> - -<p> -"Judging from what you have told me of her. I should -think the chances were in favour of her meeting you at the -station." -</p> - -<p> -Mona laughed. "She is an india-rubber ball—up one -moment, down the next; but it has been no laughing matter -this time. I told you she got through her examination all -right." -</p> - -<p> -"Thanks to your coaching, no doubt." -</p> - -<p> -"No, no, no! I begin to think Lucy has a better head -all round than mine. The fact is, Doris, I have to readjust -my views of life somehow, and the only satisfactory basis on -which I can build is the conviction that we have all been -under a complete misapprehension as to my powers. There -is something gloriously restful in the belief that one is -nothing great, and is not called upon to do anything -particular." -</p> - -<p> -Doris smiled with serene liberality. Mona had been in -her mind constantly during the last month. -</p> - -<p> -"Very well," she said. "As long as you feel like that, -go your own way. I am not afraid that the mood will last. -In a few months you will be neither to hold nor to bind." -</p> - -<p> -"Prophet of evil!" -</p> - -<p> -"Nay; prophet of good." -</p> - -<p> -"It is all very well for you, in your lovely leisure, -realising the ideal of perfect womanhood." -</p> - -<p> -"Don't be sarcastic, please. You know how gladly I -would exchange my 'lovely leisure' for your freedom to -work. But we need not talk of it. My mind is perfectly at -rest about you. This is only a reaction—a passing phase." -</p> - -<p> -"A great improvement on the restless, hounding desire to -inflict one's powers, talents, and virtues—save the -mark!—on poor, patient, long-suffering mankind. Oh, Doris, let us -take life simply, and work our reformations unconsciously -by the way. We don't increase our moral energy by -pumping our resolutions up to a giddy height." -</p> - -<p> -"I am not to remind you, I suppose, of the old gospel -which some of your friends associate with you, that women -ought always to have a purpose in life, and not be content to -drift." -</p> - -<p> -Mona turned a pair of laughing eyes full on her friend. -</p> - -<p> -"Remind me of it by all means. Go a stage farther back, -if you like, and remind me of my dolls. I am not sensitive -on either point. I was saying to some one only the other -clay that it takes a great many incompatible utterances to -make up a man's <i>Credo</i>, even at one moment. Perhaps," -she added more slowly, "each of us is, in potentiality, as -catholic as God Himself on a small scale; but owing to the -restrictions and mutual pressure of human life, most of us -can only develop one side at a time—some of us only one in -a single 'Karma.'" -</p> - -<p> -"You seem," said Doris quietly, "to have found the -intellectual life at Borrowness at a surprisingly high level." -</p> - -<p> -Mona raised her eyebrows with a quick, unconscious -gesture. -</p> - -<p> -"There are a few intelligent people," she said rather -coldly, "even there." -</p> - -<p> -"But, Mona, your life has been so free from restriction -and pressure. You have been able to develop on the lines -you chose." -</p> - -<p> -"Don't argue that my responsibility is the greater! How -do we know that it is not the less? Besides, there may be -very real pressure and restriction, which is invisible even to -the most sympathetic eye." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't want to argue at all. I don't profess to follow -all your flights; but I am perfectly satisfied that you will -come back to the point you started from." -</p> - -<p> -Mona rose and took down a plaid from the rack. "Make -it a spiral, Doris, if you conscientiously can," she said -gravely. "I don't like moving in a circle. 'Build thee -more stately mansions, O my soul!'" -</p> - -<p> -Doris looked admiringly at her friend. She could very -conscientiously have "made it a spiral," but she was not in -the habit of talking in metaphors as Mona was. -</p> - -<p> -The conversation dropped, and they sat for a long time -listening to the rattle and roar of the train. Mona did not -like it. Somehow it forced her to remember that there was -no necessary connection between Lucy's condition and the -bright October weather.' -</p> - -<p> -"A penny for your thoughts, Doris," she cried. -</p> - -<p> -Doris's large grey eyes were sparkling. -</p> - -<p> -"I was wondering," she said, "whether that delicious seal -is still at the Zoo. Do you know?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't; you might as well ask me whether Carolus Rex -is still brandishing his own death-warrant at Madame -Tussaud's." -</p> - -<p> -"Picture mentioning the two places on the same day!" -</p> - -<p> -"I do it because they lie side by side in the fairy memory -palace of childhood. Neither has any existence for me apart -from that." -</p> - -<p> -"And you a student of natural history! I should have -thought that most of your spare time would have been spent -at the Zoological Gardens." -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Ars longa!</i>—but you are perfectly right. The Huxley -of the next generation, instead of directing us to scalpel and -dissecting-board, will tell us to forego the use of those, till -we have studied the build and movements and habits of the -animals in life. I quite agree with you that it is far better -to know and love the creatures as you do, than to investigate -personally the principal variations of the ground-plan of the -vascular system, as I do." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't see why we should not combine the two." -</p> - -<p> -"Truly; but something else would have to go to the -wall; Turner, perhaps, or Browning, or Wagner. -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'We have not wings, we cannot soar;<br /> - But we have feet to scale and climb.'"<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -"I don't know. Some of us appear to have discovered a -pretty fair substitute for wings. But you know I am -looking forward to your dissecting-room far more even than to -the Zoological Gardens." -</p> - -<p> -"You don't really mean to see the dissecting-room?" -</p> - -<p> -"Of course I do. Why not?" -</p> - -<p> -"Chiefly, I suppose, because you never can see it. No -outsider can form any conception of what the dissecting-room -really is. You would only be horrified at the ghastliness -of it,—shocked that young girls can laugh over such -work." -</p> - -<p> -"Do they laugh?" said Doris, in an awestruck tone. She -had pictured to herself heroic self-abnegation; but laughter! -</p> - -<p> -"Of course they do, if there is anything to laugh at. We -laughed a great deal at an Irish girl who could only remember -the nerves of the arm by ligaturing them with different-coloured -threads. When girls are doing crewel-work, or -painting milking-stools, they are not incessantly thinking of -the source of their materials. No more are we." -</p> - -<p> -"But it is so different." -</p> - -<p> -"Is it? I don't know. If it is, a merciful Providence -shuts our eyes to the difference. It simply becomes our -work, sacred or commonplace, according to our character and -way of looking at things. There are minor disagreeables, of -course; but what pursuit is without them? And if they are -greater in practical anatomy than in other things, there is -increased interest to make up for them." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh yes, I am sure of that. I think nothing of disagreeables -in such a cause. And I suppose what you say is very -natural; but I always fancied that lofty enthusiasm would -be necessary to carry one through." -</p> - -<p> -"I think lofty enthusiasm is necessary to carry us nobly -through anything. But lofty enthusiasm is not an appendage -to wear at one's finger-ends; it is the heart, the central -pump of the whole system, about which we never think till -we grow physically or morally morbid. You know, dear, I -don't mean to say that the dissecting-room is pleasant from -the beginning. Before one really gets into the work it is -worse than ghastly, it is <i>awful</i>. That is why I say that -outsiders should never see it. For the first few days, I used to -clench my teeth, and repeat to myself over and over again, -'After life's fitful fever, he sleeps well.' It sounds ironical, -does not it? But it comforted me. On any theory of life, -<i>this</i> struggle was over for one poor soul; and, judging by -the net result in this world, it must have been a sore and -bitter struggle. But you know I could not have gone on like -that; it would have killed me. I had to cease thinking about -it at all in that way, and look upon it simply as my daily -work—sometimes commonplace, sometimes enthralling. Sir -Douglas would say I grew hardened, but I don't think I -did." -</p> - -<p> -"Hardened!" said Doris, her own eyes softening in sympathy -as she watched Mona's lips quiver at the bare recollection -of those days. "How like a man!" -</p> - -<p> -"I never spoke of this before, except once when my uncle -made me; but if you are determined to go in——" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh yes, I mean to see all I can. You don't object very -much, do you?" -</p> - -<p> -"Object?" Mona's earnestness had all gone. "Did you -ever know me object to anything? I did not even presume -to advise; I only stated an opinion in the abstract. But here -is York, and luncheon. We can continue the conversation -afterwards." -</p> - -<p> -But the conversation was over for that day. Just as -the train was about to start, Doris leaned out of the -window. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, Mona," she said, "here is a poor woman with four -little children, looking for a carriage that will hold them all. -Poor soul! She does look hot and tired. I do wish she -would look in our direction. Here she comes!" -</p> - -<p> -Doris threw open the door, and lifted the children and -bundles in, one by one. -</p> - -<p> -"You did not mind, did you?" she said suddenly to Mona, -as the train moved on. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh no!" Mona laughed, and shrugged her shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -"One must pay the penalty of travelling with a <i>schöne -Seele</i>!" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap22"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXII. -<br /><br /> -DR ALICE BATESON. -</h3> - -<p> -Glaring lights in the murky darkness, hurrying porters -pursuing the train, eager eyes on the platform strained in -the direction of the windows, announced the arrival of the -Flying Scotchman at King's Cross. -</p> - -<p> -"Are you sure your husband will be here to meet you?" -said Doris to her <i>protégée</i>. "I will stay with the children -till you find him. Mona, dear, I had better say good night. -I will call to-morrow morning to see you and enquire for your -friend." -</p> - -<p> -"Is there any one here to meet you?" -</p> - -<p> -"I saw my aunt's footman a minute ago. He will find -me presently." -</p> - -<p> -A moment later a beautiful, white-haired old clergyman -came up, removing his glove before shaking hands with -Mona. -</p> - -<p> -"I scarcely know how to thank you," he said, in a low -voice. "You are a friend in need." -</p> - -<p> -"And Lucy?" -</p> - -<p> -"Lucy's temperature, as I expected, has gone down with -a run since she heard you were coming. The doctor says all -will be well now." -</p> - -<p> -Mona drew a long breath of relief, and looked up in his -face with a smile. -</p> - -<p> -He laid his hand on her shoulder. "Where is your luggage?" -</p> - -<p> -"This porter has my valise. That is all." -</p> - -<p> -They got into a hansom, while the tall footman conducted -Doris to a neat brougham, and a moment later they rattled -away. -</p> - -<p> -If Sir Douglas made Mona "a girl again," Mr Reynolds -made her feel herself a child. With him her superficial crust -of cynicism vanished like hoar-frost before the sun, and gave -place to a gentle deference which had completely won the -old man's heart. "The type of woman I admire," he had -said with dignity to Lucy, "is the woman of clear intellect;" -but it is probable that the woman of clear intellect would -have appealed to him less, if she had not looked at him with -pathetic revering eyes that seemed to say, "They call me -clever and strong, but I am only a fatherless girl after -all." -</p> - -<p> -"Will Lucy be settled for the night when we get home?" -Mona asked, when she had exhausted her other questions. -</p> - -<p> -"No; she gets a hypodermic injection of morphia when -the pain comes on, and that was to be postponed, if possible, -till our arrival." -</p> - -<p> -In a few minutes the cab drew up at a dimly lighted door -in Bloomsbury. The house was old-fashioned and substantial; -but a certain air of squalor is inseparably associated -with most London lodgings, and it was not altogether absent -here. -</p> - -<p> -"Will you show this lady to her room?" said the clergyman -courteously to the maid who opened the door. -</p> - -<p> -"Not yet, thank you," said Mona. "Show me to Miss -Reynolds's room, please. I will go there first." -</p> - -<p> -The room was brightly lighted with a pretty lamp, for -Lucy could not bear to have anything gloomy about her. -She was lying in bed, propped up with pillows, her eyes -curiously large and bright, her cheeks thin, her face worn -with recent suffering. -</p> - -<p> -Mona bit her lip hard. She had not realised that a few -days of fever and pain could work such a change. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy tried to stretch out her arms, and then let them fall -with a pitiful little laugh. "I can't hug you yet, Mona," -she said, "but oh! it is good to see you," and tears of sheer -physical weakness filled her eyes. -</p> - -<p> -"You poor little thing! What a scolding you shall have -when you are better! You are not to be trusted out of my -sight for a moment." -</p> - -<p> -"I know," said Lucy feebly. "I never should have got -ill if you had been here; and now I shall just have one -illness after another, till you come back and go on with your -work." -</p> - -<p> -She looked so infinitely pathetic and unlike herself that -Mona could scarcely find words. Instinctively she took -Lucy's wrist in one cool hand, and laid the other on the -child's flushed cheek. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I am all right now. Of course my heart bounded -off when I heard the hansom stop. But here comes my -doctor. I scarcely need you to send me to Paradise to-night, -doctor; my friend Miss Maclean has come." -</p> - -<p> -Mona held out her hand. "Your name is almost as -familiar to me as my own," she said. "It is a great -pleasure to meet you." -</p> - -<p> -Dr Alice Bateson took the proffered hand without replying, -and the two women exchanged a frank critical survey. -Both seemed to be satisfied with the result. Dr Bateson -had come in without gloves, and with a shawl thrown -carelessly about her girlish figure. Her hat had seen palmier -days, but its bent brim shaded a pair of earnest brown eyes -and a resolute mouth. -</p> - -<p> -"She means work," thought Mona. "There is no humbug -about her." -</p> - -<p> -"The girl has some <i>nous</i>," thought the doctor. "She -would keep her head in an emergency." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, and how are you?" she said, turning with brusque -kindness to Lucy. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I am all right—not beyond the need of your stiletto -yet, though," and she held out a pretty white arm. -</p> - -<p> -The medical visit did not last more than three minutes. -Dr Bateson took no fees from medical students, and she had -too many patients on her books to waste much time over -them, unless there seemed to be a chance that she could be -of definite use, physical or moral. She had spent hours with -Lucy when things were at their worst, but minutes were -ample now. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh yes. Miss Reynolds will do famously," she said to -Mona, who had left the room with her. "Fortunately I was -close at hand, and she sent for me in time. With a -temperament like hers, the temperature runs up and down very -readily, and it went up so quickly that I was rather uneasy, -but it never reached a really alarming height. Good night, -Miss Maclean. I hope we shall see you at 'The New' before -long." -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you; there is nothing I should like better than -to work under you at the Women's Hospital," and Mona ran -back to Lucy's room. -</p> - -<p> -"Now, my baby," she said caressingly, "I will arrange -your pillows, and you shall go to sleep like a good child." -</p> - -<p> -"Sleep," said Lucy dreamily. "I don't <i>sleep</i>. I go -through the looking-glass into the queerest, most fantastic -world you can imagine. <i>C'est magnifique—mais—ce -n'est pas—le—sommeil.</i>" She roused herself with a slight -effort. "About three I go to sleep, and don't wake till -ten. How good it will be to see you beside me in the -morning!" -</p> - -<p> -Mr Reynolds came into the room, kissed the little white -hand that lay on the counterpane, and then gave Mona his -arm. -</p> - -<p> -"You poor child," he said, as they left the room together, -"you must be worn out and faint. That is your room, and -the sitting-room is just at the foot of the stair. I will leave -the door open. Supper is waiting." -</p> - -<p> -A very pleasant hour the two spent together. Mona was -at her best with Mr Reynolds,—simple, earnest, off her -guard; and as for the clergyman, he was almost always at -his best now. -</p> - -<p> -"I felt quite sure you would come," he said, "but I am -ashamed to think of the trouble to which you have been put. -I hope you have not had a very tiresome journey?" -</p> - -<p> -"I have had a most pleasant journey from Edinburgh. -My friend Doris Colquhoun came with me." -</p> - -<p> -"Was that the fair young lady with the children? I was -going to ask if you knew her. She had a very pleasing -face." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes; the children don't belong to her, but she has been -mothering their weary mother. Doris is such a good woman. -She does not care a straw for the petty personal things that -most of us are occupied with. Even home comforts are a -matter of indifference to her. But for animals, and poor -women, and the cause of the oppressed generally, she has -the enthusiasm of a martyr." -</p> - -<p> -"She looks a mere girl." -</p> - -<p> -"She is about my age; but she is so much less self-centred -than I am, that she has always seemed to me a good deal -older. She is my mother-confessor, and far too indulgent -for the post." -</p> - -<p> -"'A heart at leisure from itself'?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, that is Doris all over. I don't believe she ever -passed a sleepless night for sorrows of her own. By the -way, Lucy says the morphia does not make her sleep." -</p> - -<p> -"So she says, but it seems difficult to draw the line -between sleeping and waking when one is under opium. I -shall be thankful when Lucy can dispense with the drug, -though I shall never forget my gratitude when I first saw -the doctor administer it. It seemed to wipe out the pain as -a wet sponge wipes out the marks on a slate." -</p> - -<p> -"I know. There is nothing like it. We had a case in -hospital of a man who was stabbed in the body. Modern -surgery might have saved him, but he came into hospital too -late, and they kept him more or less under morphia till the -end. Whenever he began to come out of it, he wailed, -'Give me morphia, give me morphia!' and, oh, how -unspeakably thankful one was that there was morphia to give -him!" -</p> - -<p> -The old man sighed. "It is a difficult subject, the -'mystery of pain.' We believe in its divine mission, and yet our -theories vanish in the actual presence of it. When pain has -been brought on by sin and folly, and seems morally to have -a distinct remedial value, we should surely be very slow to -relieve it; and yet how can we, seeing as we do only one -little span of existence, judge of remedial value, except on a -very small scale?" -</p> - -<p> -"And therefore," said Mona deprecatingly, "we should -surely err on the safe side, and be merciful, except in a case -that is absolutely clear even to our finite eyes. At the best, -the wear and tear of pain lowers our stamina—makes us less -fit for the battle of life, more open to temptation." -</p> - -<p> -He sighed again. -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "'So runs my dream, but what am I?<br /> - An infant crying in the night!'<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -Ah, well! if we can say at the last day, 'I was not wise, but -I tried to be merciful,' I think we shall find forgiveness: -and, if we are to find peace and acceptance, so surely must -all those whom we have wittingly or unwittingly wronged." -</p> - -<p> -Pleasant as the evening was, Mr Reynolds insisted on -making it a very short one. -</p> - -<p> -"No, no. Indeed you shall not sit up with Lucy to-night. -You want rest as much as she does. If she still needs any -one to-morrow, we will talk about it, but she is progressing -by strides." He kissed Mona on the forehead, and she went -to her own room, to sleep a long dreamless sleep, broken only -by the entrance of the hot water next morning. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap23"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXIII. -<br /><br /> -A RENCONTRE. -</h3> - -<p> -True to her promise, Doris called before eleven. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, this is a surprise," said Mona. "I did not in the -least expect to see you." -</p> - -<p> -"Why? I said I would come." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes; but I thought you would go off to visit that woman, -and forget all about me. What is old friendship when -weighed against the misfortune of being 'hadden doon' of a -husband and four children!" -</p> - -<p> -"The man was a selfish brute," said Doris, ignoring an -imputation she would have resented if her mind had been -less full of other things. "Did you notice? He let his wife -carry more than half the bundles. I sent John to take them -from her, and fortunately that put him to shame." -</p> - -<p> -"And how did John like it?" -</p> - -<p> -Doris laughed. "Oh, I don't know; I never thought of -him. I think John is rather attached to me." -</p> - -<p> -"I have yet to meet the man in any rank of life who -knows you and is not attached to you. I think that has -taught me more of the nature of men than any other one -thing. They little dream of the contempt and scorn that lie -behind that daisy face, and yet they seem to know by a sort -of instinct that their charms are thrown away on you,—that -the fruit is out of reach; and instead of sensibly saying -'sour grapes,' they knock themselves to pieces against the -wall." -</p> - -<p> -"Mona, you do talk nonsense! I have scarcely had an -offer of marriage in my life." -</p> - -<p> -"I imagine that few women who really respect themselves -have more than one, unless the men of their acquaintance—like -the population of the British Isles—are 'mostly -fools.'" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, they are all that. But I think what you say is very -true. The first offer comes like a slap in the face, 'out of -the everywhere.' Who could have foreseen it? But after -that one gets to know when there is electricity in the air, -don't you think so?" -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose so. But the experience is not much in my -line. Sensible men are rather apt to think me a <i>guter -Kamerad</i>, and one weak-minded young curate asked me to share -two hundred a year with him—his 'revenue' he called it, by -the way. Behold the extent of my dominion over the other -sex! I sometimes think," she added gloomily, "it is -commensurate with the extent to which I have attained the ideal -of womanhood!" -</p> - -<p> -"Mona! If the sons of God were to take unto themselves -wives of the daughters of men, we should hear a different -tale. As things are, I am glad you are not a man's woman. -You are a woman's woman, which is infinitely better. If -you could be turned into a man to-morrow, half the girls of -your acquaintance would marry you. I know I would, for -one." -</p> - -<p> -"You are my oldest friend, Doris," said Mona gratefully. -"The others like me because I am moody and mysterious, -and occasionally motherly. Women always fall in love with -the Unknown." -</p> - -<p> -"How could they marry men if it were otherwise?" said -Doris, but she did not in the least mean it for wit. -</p> - -<p> -"You miserable old cynic! I am going to introduce you -to-day—I say advisedly introduce <i>you</i>—to a man who will -convert even Doris Colquhoun to a love of his sex. He met -me at the station last night, but I suppose you were too -much taken up with your <i>protégées</i> to notice him." -</p> - -<p> -"I caught a glimpse of white hair and an old-world bow. -One can't judge of faces in the glaring light and black -shadows of a railway station at night." -</p> - -<p> -"That's true. Everybody looks like an amateur photograph -taken indoors. But you shall see Mr Reynolds to-day. -He promised to come in. Present company excepted, I don't -know that I love any one in the world as I do him—unless -it be Sir Douglas Munro." -</p> - -<p> -"Sir Douglas Munro! Oh Mona! I heard my father say -once that Sir Douglas was a good fellow, but that no one -could look at him and doubt that he had sown his wild oats -very thoroughly." -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Don't!</i>" said Mona, with a little stamp of her foot. -"Why need we think of it? I cannot even tell you how -kind he has been to me." -</p> - -<p> -Doris was about to reply, but Mr Reynolds came in at -the moment, and they chatted on general topics for a few -minutes. "Dr Alice Bateson has just come in," he said, in -answer to Doris's inquiry after Lucy. -</p> - -<p> -Doris's face flushed. "Oh," she said eagerly, "I should -so like to meet Dr Alice Bateson." -</p> - -<p> -"Should you?" he said, with a fatherly smile. "That is -easily managed. We will open the door and waylay her as -she comes down. Ah, doctor! here is a young lady from -Scotland who is all anxiety to make your acquaintance. -May I introduce her?" -</p> - -<p> -Miss Bateson came in. She did not at all like to be made -a lion of, but Doris's fair, eager face was irresistible. -</p> - -<p> -"I am very glad," Doris said shyly, "to express my personal -thanks to any woman who is helping on what I consider -one of the noblest causes in the world." -</p> - -<p> -"It is a grand work," said Dr Bateson rather shortly. -"Miss——" she looked at Mona. -</p> - -<p> -"Maclean," said Mona, with a smile. -</p> - -<p> -"Miss Maclean will be able to show you our School and -Hospital. Perhaps we may meet some day at the Hospital. -Good morning." -</p> - -<p> -"Well?" said Mona, when she was gone. -</p> - -<p> -"I think she is splendid—so energetic and sensible. But, -you know, I do wish she wore gloves; and she would look so -nice in a bonnet." -</p> - -<p> -"Come, don't be narrow-minded." -</p> - -<p> -"I am not narrow-minded. Personally I like her all the -better for her unconventionality. It is the Cause I am -thinking of." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, the Cause! It seems to me, dear, that the prophets -of great causes always have a thorn in the flesh that they -themselves are conscious of, and half-a-dozen other thorns -that other people are conscious of; but the cause survives -notwithstanding." -</p> - -<p> -"I have no doubt that it will survive; but it seems to me -that a little care on the part of the prophets would make it -grow so much faster. Well, dear, I must go. I will come -again on Friday. You will come to my aunt's 'At Home,' -won't you?" -</p> - -<p> -"If Lucy is better, and your aunt gives me another -chance, I shall be only too glad. I shall have to unearth -a gown from my boxes at Tilbury's. Heigh-ho, Doris! I -might as well have gone all along, for all the good my -abstinence did me. A deal of wasted pluck and moral -courage goes to failing in one's Intermediate M.B.!" -</p> - -<p> -"You have been gone a quarter of an hour," said Lucy -fretfully, when Mona re-entered the sick-room, "and Miss -Colquhoun had you all day yesterday." -</p> - -<p> -"You are getting better, little woman," said Mona, kissing -her. -</p> - -<p> -"We have so much to talk about——" -</p> - -<p> -"So we have, dear, but not to-day, nor yet to-morrow. I -won't have my coming throw you back. You are to eat all -the milk and eggs and nursery pudding that you possibly can, -and I will read you the last new thing in three-volume novels." -</p> - -<p> -Lucy resigned herself to this <i>régime</i> the more readily as -she was too weak to talk; and she certainly did make -remarkable progress in the next day or two. She was very -soon able—rather to her own disappointment—to do without -morphine at night; and when, a few days later, Mona read -the last page of the novel, Lucy was lying in a healthy -natural sleep. -</p> - -<p> -Mona stole out of the room, listened outside the door for -a minute or two, and then ran down-stairs. -</p> - -<p> -"I hope you are going out?" said Mr Reynolds, looking -up from his <i>Guardian</i>. "You have been shut up for three -or four days now." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes; I told Lucy that if she went to sleep I would go -for a run. She is to ring as soon as she wakes." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, don't hurry back. I expect the child will sleep all -the afternoon; and if she does not, she may content herself -with the old man's company for an hour or two." -</p> - -<p> -"Lucky girl!" said Mona, looking at him affectionately. -"I should think 'the old man's company' would more than -make up to most people for being ill." -</p> - -<p> -Lucy's fellow-students had called regularly to enquire -for her, and this Friday morning a bright young girl had -come in on her way to the Medical School, at the same -moment as Doris Colquhoun. -</p> - -<p> -"I only wish I were going with you," Doris had said to -her; and Mona had thankfully availed herself of the -opportunity so to arrange matters. -</p> - -<p> -"I will go and have tea with Doris now," she thought, -"and hear all her impressions before their edge has worn -off." -</p> - -<p> -She set off in high spirits. After all, it was very pleasant -to be in London again, especially in this bright cold weather. -The shop-windows still had all their old attraction, and she -stopped every few minutes to look at the new winter fads -and fashions, wondering what pretty things it would be well -to take back to Borrowness; for Rachel had reluctantly -consented to the investment of a few pounds in fresh -stock-in-trade. -</p> - -<p> -"Whatever I buy will be hideously out of keeping with -everything else," thought Mona; "but a shop ought to be a -shop before it professes to be a work of art. At present it -is what Dr Dudley would call 'neither fish, flesh, fowl, nor -guid red herrin'.'" -</p> - -<p> -She had taken the measure of her <i>clientèle</i> at Borrowness -pretty correctly, and she had a very good idea what things -would appeal to their fancy, without offending her own -somewhat fastidious taste; but she took as much pride in -making the most of those pounds as if her own bread and -cheese had depended on it. "We will do nothing hastily, -my dear," she said to herself. "We will exhaust all the -possibilities before we commit ourselves to the extent of one -shilling. Oh dear, I am glad I have not to go to the School -after all! I am in no mood for fencing." -</p> - -<p> -Rash thought! It had scarcely passed through her mind -before a voice behind her said— -</p> - -<p> -"How do you do, Miss Maclean?" and looking round she -saw two of her fellow-students, bag in hand. -</p> - -<p> -As ill-luck would have it, one of them was the only -student of her own year with whom Mona had always -found herself absolutely out of sympathy. This one it -was who spoke. -</p> - -<p> -"It is a surprise to see you! Miss Reynolds said you -were not coming back this winter." -</p> - -<p> -"Nor am I. I am only in town for a day or two." -</p> - -<p> -"Are you reading at home?" -</p> - -<p> -"At present I am not reading at all." -</p> - -<p> -"It seems a great pity." -</p> - -<p> -"Do you think so? I think it does us no harm to climb -up occasionally on the ridge that separates our little furrow -from all the others, and see what is going on in the rest of -the field." -</p> - -<p> -"But you always did that, did you not? I thought you -were a great authority on the uses of frivolling." -</p> - -<p> -"And you thought it a pity that the results of my -examinations did not do more to bear out my teaching? Never -mind. It is only one of the many cases in which a worthy -cause has suffered temporarily in the hands of an unworthy -exponent." -</p> - -<p> -The girl coloured. Mona's hypersensitive perception had -read her thought very correctly. -</p> - -<p> -"We miss you dreadfully," put in the other student -hastily. "I do wish you would come back." -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose," continued the first, glancing at the -window before which they had met, "you are busy with -your winter shopping. Regent Street has not lost its old -attractions, though the Medical School has." -</p> - -<p> -"What would they say," thought Mona, "if I calmly -told them the whole truth?—that I am, with the utmost -care and economy, buying goods for a very small shop in -Borrowness, behind the counter of which I have the honour -of standing, and serving a limited, and not very enlightened, -public." -</p> - -<p> -For a moment the temptation to "make their hair stand -on end" was almost irresistible; but fortunately old habits -of reserve are not broken through in a moment, and she -merely said, "Oh no. It will be a serious symptom when -Regent Street loses its attractions. That would indeed be a -strong indication for quinine and cod-liver oil, or any other -treatment you can suggest for melancholia. Good-bye, and -success to you both!" -</p> - -<p> -She shook hands—rather cavalierly with the first, cordially -with the second. "<i>You</i> all right?" she asked quietly, as -they parted. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, thank you." -</p> - -<p> -"She <i>is</i> queer," said the student who had spoken first, -when Mona was out of hearing. "My private opinion is -that she is going to be married. My brother saw her on -board one of the Fjord steamers in Norway a month or two -ago, with a very correct party; and he said a tall fellow -'with tremendous calves' was paying her a lot of attention." -</p> - -<p> -"Did your brother speak to her?" -</p> - -<p> -"No. He was much smitten with her at the last prize-giving, -and wanted me to introduce him, but I did not get a -chance. She knows a lot of people. I think she gives -herself too many airs, don't you?" -</p> - -<p> -"I used to, but I began to think last term that that was a -mistake. You know, Miss Burnet, I like her." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't." -</p> - -<p> -"The fact is,"—the girl coloured and drew a long breath,—"I -know you won't repeat it, but I have much need to -like her. I was in frightful straits for money last term. I -actually had a summons served upon me. I could not tell -my people at home, and one night, when I was simply in -despair, I went to Miss Maclean. I did not like her, but -borrowers can afford even less than beggars to be choosers, -and she always seemed to have plenty of money. She was -by no means the first person I had applied to, and I had -ceased to expect anything but refusals. Well, I shall never -forget how her face lighted up as she said, 'How good of -you to come to me! I know what it is to be short of money -myself.' I did not think she gave herself airs then; I would -have worked my fingers to the bone, if it had been necessary, -to pay her back before the end of term." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't see anything so wonderful in that. She had the -money, and you had not." -</p> - -<p> -"That's all very well. Wait till you have been refused by -half-a-dozen people who could quite afford to help you. Wait -till you have been treated to delightful theories on the evils -of borrowing, when you are half frantic for the want of a few -pounds." -</p> - -<p> -"I am sure Miss Maclean wastes money enough. I was -in the pit at the Lyceum one night, and I saw her and Miss -Reynolds in the stalls. I am quite sure none of the money -came out of Miss Reynolds' pocket." -</p> - -<p> -"Miss Reynolds is a highly favoured person. I quite -admit that there is nothing wonderful about <i>her</i>. But I -like Miss Maclean, and if she gives up medicine she will be -a terrible loss." -</p> - -<p> -"She has been twice ploughed." -</p> - -<p> -"The more shame to the examiners!" -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -"Doris," said Mona a few minutes later, as she entered -the æsthetic drawing-room where her friend was sitting -alone at tea, "stay me with Mazawattee and comfort me -with crumpets, for I have just met my <i>bête noire</i>." -</p> - -<p> -Doris looked up with a bright smile of welcome. "Come," -she said, "'don't be narrow-minded'!" -</p> - -<p> -Mona took up a down cushion and threw it at her friend. -</p> - -<p> -"Pick that up, please," said Doris quietly. "If my aunt -comes in and sees her new Liberty cushion on the floor, it -will be the end of you, so far as her good graces are -concerned." -</p> - -<p> -Mona picked it up, half absently, and replaced it on the -sofa. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, go on. Tell me all about your <i>bête noire</i>. Who -is he?" -</p> - -<p> -"<i>He</i>, of course! How is one to break it to you, dear -Doris, that every member of our charming sex is not at once -a Hebe and a Minerva?" -</p> - -<p> -"I will try to bear up—remembering that 'God Almighty -made them to match the men.' Proceed." -</p> - -<p> -But Mona did not proceed at once. She drank her tea -and looked fierce. -</p> - -<p> -"I am narrow-minded," she said at last. "I wish that -any power, human or divine, would prevent all women from -studying medicine till they are twenty-three, and any woman -from studying it at all, unless she has some one qualification, -physical, mental, moral, or social, for the work. These -remarks do not come very aptly from one who has been -twice ploughed, but we are among friends." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, dear," said Doris thoughtfully, "there were a few -students at the School to-day whom one could have wished -to see—elsewhere; but on the whole, they struck me as a -party of happy, healthy, sensible, hard-working girls." -</p> - -<p> -"Did they?" said Mona eagerly; "I am very glad." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, assuredly they did, and a few of them seemed to be -really remarkable women." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh yes! the exceptions are all right; but tell me about -your visit. I wish you could have gone in summer, when -they are sitting about in the garden with books and bones, -and materia medica specimens." -</p> - -<p> -"Two of them were playing tennis when I went in—playing -uncommonly well too. We watched them for a while, -and then we went to the dissecting-room." -</p> - -<p> -"Well?" -</p> - -<p> -"I am very glad you told me what you did about it—very. -I think if I had gone quite unprepared I might have -found it very ghastly and very awful. It is painful, of -course, but it is intensely interesting. The demonstrator is -such a nice girl. She took me round and showed me the -best dissections; I had no idea the things looked like that. -Do you know"—Doris waxed triumphant—"I know what -fascia is, and I know a tendon from a nerve, and both from -a vein." -</p> - -<p> -"You have done well. Some of us who have worked for -years cannot say as much—in a difficult case." -</p> - -<p> -"Don't mock me; you know what I mean. Oh, Mona, -how you can be in London and not go back to your work is -more than I can imagine." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes? That is interesting, but not strictly to the point. -What did you do when you left the dissecting-room?" -</p> - -<p> -"Attended a physiology lecture, delivered by a young -man who kept his eyes on the ceiling, and never moved -a muscle of his face, unless it was absolutely necessary." -</p> - -<p> -"I know," said Mona, laughing; "but he knew exactly -what was going on in the room all the time, and was -doubtless wondering who the new and intelligent student was. -He is delightful." -</p> - -<p> -"He seemed nice," said Doris judicially, "and he -certainly was very clever; but it would be much better to -have women lecturers." -</p> - -<p> -"That's true. But not unless they did the work every -whit as well as men. You must not forget, dear, that a -good laundress helps on the 'cause' of women better than -a bad doctor or lecturer." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I know that. But there must be plenty of women -capable of lecturing on physiology." -</p> - -<p> -Mona shrugged her shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -"More things go to making a good physiology lecturer -than you imagine,—a great many more," she added -impressively. -</p> - -<p> -Doris's face flushed. -</p> - -<p> -"Not vivisection!" she exclaimed. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, vivisection. It may be that our modern science -has gone off on an entirely wrong tack; it may be, as a -young doctor said to me at Borrowness the other day, that we -cannot logically stop short now of vivisecting human beings; -but, as things are at present, I do not see how any man can -conscientiously take an important lectureship on physiology, -unless he does original work. I don't mean to say that he -must be at that part of it all the time. Far from it. He -may make chemical physiology or histology his specialty. -But you see physiology is such a floating, growing, mobile -science. It exists in no text-book. Photograph it one day, -and the picture is unrecognisable the next. What the -physiologist has to do is to plunge his mind like a -thermometer, into the world of physiological investigation, and -register one thing one moment, and another thing the next. -He need never carry on experiments on living animals -before his students, but he must live in the midst of the -growing science—or be a humbug. I thought once that I -should like nothing better than to be a lecturer on physiology, -but I see now that it is impossible," she shivered,—"although, -you know, dear, vivisection, as it exists in the -popular mind, is a figment of the imaginations of the -anti-vivisectionists." -</p> - -<p> -Doris did not reply. She could not bear to think that -Mona did not judge wisely and truly; she tried to agree -with her in most things; but this was a hard saying. -</p> - -<p> -"What does the young doctor at Borrowness say to a -woman doctor?" she asked suddenly. -</p> - -<p> -Mona winced. "He does not know that I am a medical -student. Why should he?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, Mona, you don't mean to say you have not told -him! What an opportunity lost!" -</p> - -<p> -"It is not my custom to go about ticketed, dear; but, if -you wish, you shall tie a label round my neck." -</p> - -<p> -"However, you will see him again. There is no hurry." -</p> - -<p> -"It is to be hoped not," said Mona a little bitterly; -"and now, dear, I must go." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap24"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXIV. -<br /><br /> -A CLINICAL REPORT. -</h3> - -<p> -Lucy was up—actually standing by the fire in her own -room—and Lucy was as saucy as ever. -</p> - -<p> -"I believe you have grown," said Mona, regarding her -critically. -</p> - -<p> -"I should think I had! I must be two inches taller at -least. What do you think, Mona? I have had two offers -of marriage this summer." -</p> - -<p> -"That is not surprising. I never had much opinion -of the intelligence of the other sex. I hope you refused -them." -</p> - -<p> -"I did; but I will accept the next man who asks me, -even if he is a chimney-sweep, just to spite you." -</p> - -<p> -"Poor chimney-sweep! But look here, Pussy, you should -not stand so long. Sit down in the arm-chair, and let me -wrap you up in the eider-down. And put your feet on the -stool—so! Comfy?" -</p> - -<p> -"Very comfy, thanks." -</p> - -<p> -"When you are strong enough, I want you to give me a -full, particular, and scientific account of your illness. How -came you by acute rheumatism? You are not a beef and -beer man." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, when I went home I was in the most tearing -spirits for the first week, and then I gradually began to feel -fit for nothing. No appetite, short breath, and all the rest -of it. I knew all I wanted was a tonic, and I determined -to prescribe one for myself, on the strength of an intimate -acquaintance with Mitchell Bruce. As a preparatory step, -in the watches of the night, I tried to run over the ingredients -and doses of the preparations of iron; but for the life -of me I could not remember them. Think of it! A month -after the examination! I could not even remember that -<i>pièce de resistance</i>—you know!—the 'cinchona bark, -calumba root, cloves' thing." -</p> - -<p> -"Compound tincture of cardamoms and tincture of -orange-peel," completed Mona mechanically. -</p> - -<p> -"Of course. That's it. 'Macerated in peppermint-water,' -wasn't it? or something of that sort. However, it -does not matter now that I have passed." -</p> - -<p> -"Not in the least!" -</p> - -<p> -"Well, while I meditated, mother sent for the doctor, a -mere boy—ugh! If I had been seriously ill, I should have -said, 'Welcome death!' and declined to see him; but it was -only a question of a tonic, so I resigned myself. He -prescribed hypophosphites, and said I was to have a slice off the -roast, or a chop or something, and a glass of porter twice a -day." -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Ah!</i>" said Mona. -</p> - -<p> -"It was no use telling mother that the infant knew less -than I did. He was 'the doctor,' and that was enough. -His word was law. I will say this for him, that I did get -stronger; but just before I came back to town, I began to -feel ill in quite a different way; indescribably queer, and -fidgety and wretched. Mother made me stick to the beef -and porter, as if my soul's weal had depended on it, and we -all hoped the change to London might do me good. Just at -first, I did feel a little better, and one afternoon Marion -Proctor asked me to go down the river with her, and I went. -My white dress was newly washed, and I had just done up -my hat for the sixth time this summer. You may say what -you like, Mona, but I did look awfully nice." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't doubt it." -</p> - -<p> -"I did not take my waterproof, because it completely -spoilt the general effect, and I was sure it would not rain; -but, as I told you, a tremendous thunderstorm came on, and -we were drenched." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, Lucy!" -</p> - -<p> -"When we got back here, there was not a fire in the -house, and, do what I would, I got thoroughly chilled. I -was shivering so, and I felt so feverish, that Marion insisted -on spending the night with me. She slept in the room you -have, and I was to knock on the wall if I wanted her." -</p> - -<p> -Lucy stopped and shivered. -</p> - -<p> -"There, dear," said Mona, "you will tell me the rest -another time. You are tiring yourself." -</p> - -<p> -"No, I am not; I like to tell you. Mona, I woke at two -in the morning with these words in my mind, 'The sufferings -of the damned.' Don't call me irreverent. You don't -know what it is. It took me <i>three-quarters of an hour</i> to -get out of bed to knock for Marion, and the tears were -running down my face like rain." -</p> - -<p> -"My poor baby!" Mona got up and knelt down beside -her; but Lucy was already laughing at the next recollection. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, Mona, I did not see the comedy of it then, but I -shall never forget that sight. The glimmering candle—Marion -shivering in her night-dress, her sleepy eyes blinking -as she read from a medical book, 'Rheumatism is probably -due to excess of sarcolactic acid in the blood'! as if I was -not far past caring what it was due to! Good old Marion! she -dressed herself at once, and at six she went for Dr -Bateson. Of course with the dawn the pain just came within the -limits of endurance; but when the doctor gave me morphia, -I could have fallen down and worshipped her." -</p> - -<p> -"You poor little girl! How I wish I had been here! -Let me go, dear, a minute. It is time for your medicine.' -</p> - -<p> -"Nasty bitter-sweet stuff—I wish I could stop <i>that</i>!" -</p> - -<p> -"Why? I am sure it has worked wonders. How I wish -we knew exactly how it acts!" -</p> - -<p> -Lucy laughed. "You are as bad as Marion," she said. -"If you were on the rack, you would not trouble yourself to -understand the mechanism that stopped the wheels, so long -as they were stopped. I leave it to you, dear, to cultivate -the infant bacillus on a nice little nutrient jelly, and then -polish him off with a dilute solution of salicin." -</p> - -<p> -"What we want now," said Mona meditatively, stroking -the curly red hair, "is to get back our baby face. How do -we mean to set about it?" -</p> - -<p> -Lucy made a little <i>moue</i>. "Dr Bateson said something -about the south of France—such a waste of time! And -Father says when I come back to London I am to live at -the College Hall again." -</p> - -<p> -"I am very glad to hear it. I always thought your -leaving was a great mistake." -</p> - -<p> -"Why, you lived in rooms yourself!" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, <i>I</i>! I am an old granny full of fads, and quite able -to take care of myself." -</p> - -<p> -"Your best friend could not deny that you are full of -fads; and that reminds me, Mona, it is your innings now. -I am 'clagging' to hear all about Borrowness, and the shop -and your cousin. Your last letter fell very flat on expectant -spirits." -</p> - -<p> -Mona went leisurely back to her chair. "You see, dear," -she said, "I am in rather a difficult position. It would be -very amusing to give you a piquant account of my doings; -but I went to Borrowness of my own free will, and even an -unvarnished story of my life there would be disloyal to my -cousin. Borrowness is not a pretty place. The country is -flat, but the coast is simply glorious. The rocks——" -</p> - -<p> -"Thanks—I don't mind taking the rocks for granted. I -want to hear about your cousin and the shop." -</p> - -<p> -"I will give you a rough outline of my cousin, and leave -the details to your vivid imagination. She is very kind, -very pious, very narrow, and very dull." -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Good Lord deliver us!</i>" murmured Lucy gravely. "And -the shop?" -</p> - -<p> -"The shop is awful. You can imagine nothing worse than -the truth." -</p> - -<p> -"A nice sphere for Mona Maclean!" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, my dear, there is sphere enough in all conscience—only -too much sphere! I never saw so clearly in my life -before that nothing depends on what a man does, but that -everything depends on how he does it. Even that -twopenny-halfpenny shop might be made a centre of culture and taste -and refinement for the whole neighbourhood." -</p> - -<p> -"You would have to get rid of your cousin first." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know. One would rather have quite a free -hand. But she is wonderfully liberal about things that must -seem sheer nonsense to her." -</p> - -<p> -"She well may be!" -</p> - -<p> -"That is absurd. Why should she pay in appreciation -for qualities that she does not in the least want, and would -rather be without? You must not judge of my suitability -to her by my suitability to—you, for instance." -</p> - -<p> -"Then she does not even appreciate you?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona meditated before replying. "She likes me," she -said, "but she thinks me absurdly 'superior' one minute, -and gratuitously frivolous the next. She has not got hold -of the main thread of my character, so of course she thinks -me a bundle of inconsistencies." -</p> - -<p> -"Why do you stay?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona sighed. "We won't go into that, dear. I have -committed myself. Besides, my cousin likes me; she was -very unwilling to part with me, even for a week." -</p> - -<p> -"Selfish brute!" said Lucy inconsistently. "Is there -any society?" -</p> - -<p> -"No; but if there were, it would consider itself a cut -above me." -</p> - -<p> -"Any men?" -</p> - -<p> -There was a momentary pause. "My dear, do I ever -know anything about the men in a place?" -</p> - -<p> -"I was hoping you had started a few of your Platonic -friendships. They would at least save you from moping to -death." -</p> - -<p> -"Moping to death!" said Mona, springing to her feet -"My dear child, I never was farther from that in my life. -I botanise, and once in a way I meet some of the greatest -living scientists. I do the best sketches I ever did in my -life, and I have developed a greater talent for millinery than -you can even conceive!" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap25"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXV. -<br /><br /> -A VOICE IN THE FOG. -</h3> - -<p> -A dense fog hung over the city. -</p> - -<p> -Doris and Mona had spent half the day among the shops -and stores, and Mona was in a glow of satisfaction. She -was convinced that no human being had ever made a ten-pound -note go so far before, and it was with difficulty that -she could be induced to talk of anything else. -</p> - -<p> -Doris was much amused. She believed in letting people -"gang their ain gait," and a day with Mona was worth -having under most conditions; but how any intelligent -human being could elect to spend it so, was more than she -could divine. -</p> - -<p> -"It would have come to all the same in the end," she -said, laughing, "if you had sent a general order to the -Stores, and left the details to them; and it would have -saved a vast amount of energy." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah!" said Mona. When the two girls were together, -Mona felt about petty things what Doris felt about great -ones, that one must not expect absolute sympathy even from -one's dearest friends. -</p> - -<p> -By common consent, however, they dropped into St -James's Hall for an hour, when their work was over, to -refresh themselves with a little music. The overture to -Tannhäuser was the last item on the programme, and Mona -would have walked twenty miles any day to hear that. It -was dark when they left the building, and the fog had -reduced the sphere of each street lamp to a radius of two or -three yards; but Mona could easily have found her way -home to "blessed Bloomsbury" with her eyes shut. Doris -was going to the Reynolds' to supper, to meet Lucy for the -first time, and her aunt's brougham was to fetch her at -night. -</p> - -<p> -"Listen, Mona," she said suddenly, as they made their -way along Piccadilly, "there are two men behind us -discussing your beloved Tannhäuser." -</p> - -<p> -This was interesting. Mona mentally relinquished her -knick-knacks, and pricked up her ears. -</p> - -<p> -At first she could only hear something about "sheer noise," -"hideous crash of chords," "gospel of din"; but a moment -later the hand that rested on Doris's arm twitched involuntarily, -for the mellow, cultured voice that took up the -discussion was strangely familiar. -</p> - -<p> -"My dear fellow, to my mind that is precisely the point -of the whole thing. The Pilgrims' Chorus is beautiful and -suggestive when one hears it simply and alone, in its own -special sphere, so to speak; but when it rises clear, steady, -and unvarying, without apparent exertion, above all the -reiterated noise and crash and distraction of the world, the -flesh, and the devil,—why, then, it is an inspiration. It -becomes triumphant by sheer force of continuing to be -itself." -</p> - -<p> -The first voice said something about "want of melody." -and then the deep bass went on,— -</p> - -<p> -"I am not at all learned in the discussion from a technical -point of view. To my mind it is simply a question of making -the opera an organic whole,—not a collection of works of -art, but one work of art. Take <i>Don Juan</i> for instance——" -</p> - -<p> -The men turned down a side street, and the voices died -away in the distance. -</p> - -<p> -"What a beautiful voice!" said Doris. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"Do you know, Mona, I think that must have been a -nice man." -</p> - -<p> -"Because of the voice?" -</p> - -<p> -"Because of the voice, and because of what the voice -said. Young men don't talk like that as a rule." -</p> - -<p> -"How do you know he was young?" -</p> - -<p> -"I am sure that 'my dear fellow' was not more than -twenty-five." -</p> - -<p> -"Twenty-seven, I should think," said Mona reflectively. -</p> - -<p> -Doris laughed. "You are very exact. Or is it that you -have gone back to the inkstands?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona sighed. "Yes," she said gravely, "I have gone -back to the inkstands." -</p> - -<p> -There was silence for a few minutes. -</p> - -<p> -"I should like to know who that young man was," said -Doris presently. -</p> - -<p> -"Why, Doris, you are coming out in a new <i>rôle</i>. It is -not like you to be interested in a young man." -</p> - -<p> -"The more reason why I should be interested in an -exceptional one." -</p> - -<p> -"You dear old Doris!" said Mona affectionately. "He -talks well, certainly; but what if talking be, like Gretchen's -beauty, his <i>Yerderben</i>?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't think it likely—not that kind of talking." -</p> - -<p> -"Assuredly that kind—if any." -</p> - -<p> -But she thought, "Not any. He has chosen the right -corrective. If he possesses the gift of utterance, he will at -least have something to utter." -</p> - -<p> -"It has been such a delightful week," said Doris, "and -now another nice long railway journey with you to-morrow -will bring it all to an end. You are a highly privileged -mortal, Mona, to be able to order your life as you choose." -</p> - -<p> -Mona smiled without replying. This was a well-worn -subject of debate. -</p> - -<p> -"I know what you are going to say," continued Doris. -"But it is no use asking me. I don't know <i>which</i> of those -little inkstands was the best, and I think you did very -wisely in ordering an equal number of both." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," said Mona; "and the hinges were so strong, -weren't they? That is the point to look to in a cheap -inkstand." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -"What an age you have been!" said Lucy, as they entered -the dining-room, where she was seated by the fire, arrayed in -her comfortable dressing-gown. "I was just going to send -the bellman after you. So glad to meet you, Miss -Colquhoun." -</p> - -<p> -"She is not so pretty as I am," Lucy thought, "but Mona -will never see that." -</p> - -<p> -Certainly Lucy's interest in the afternoon's shopping -abundantly atoned for Doris's lofty indifference. "Of course, -you had to have the things sent straight to the station," she -said, "but I do wish I could have gone with you. Tell me -all about it. Where did you go first?" -</p> - -<p> -Fortunately Mr Reynolds came in at this moment, so Doris -was not forced to go over all the ribbons and flowers and -note-paper and what-nots again. -</p> - -<p> -"Keep a thing seven years, and its use will come," said -Mona. "My childish passion for shop-windows and pretty -things has stood me in good stead, you see. You have no -idea how crisp and fresh all the things looked. The shop -will simply be another place. I need not blush now -whenever a new customer comes in." -</p> - -<p> -"How I wish I could come and see it!" said Lucy. "I -am sure I could 'dress a window' beautifully. Do you think -Borrowness would do me as much good as the Riviera? It -would come a great deal cheaper, would not it?" -</p> - -<p> -"Much," said Mona, smiling; "but the cutting east wind -has a knack of finding out one's weak places, and you must -not forget that you have a traitor in the garrison now." -</p> - -<p> -"It is so awfully unfortunate! My fees are paid, and of -course there have been a lot of new books this term. Father -simply cannot afford to send me away." -</p> - -<p> -"Don't fret. I think you will find that it can be done -very cheaply." -</p> - -<p> -"Cheapness is a relative thing. You must remember that -our whole income does not come to much more than yours." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, at least your board here would be saved." -</p> - -<p> -In point of fact, Mona had already written to Lady Munro -about her friend's illness, and she hoped the answer would -be an invitation to Lucy to spend a month or two at Cannes. -Mona knew that the Munros were not at all the kind of -people who are on the outlook for opportunities to benefit -their fellow-men, but for that very reason they might be the -more likely to do a graceful action that actually came in -their way. The arrangement was extremely awkward, so far -as she herself was concerned, for she did not mean the Munros -to know that she was spending the winter at Borrowness. -However, that was a minor and selfish consideration, and no -doubt it could be arranged somehow. -</p> - -<p> -In the midst of the conversation supper was announced. -It was a homely meal, but the simplest proceedings always -acquired a charm and dignity when Mr Reynolds took part -in them. As soon as it was over he took Mona aside. -</p> - -<p> -"Dr Bateson tells me it is very desirable that Lucy should -get into a warmer climate for a month or two," he said, -"before a rheumatic habit has any chance to assert itself. I -am anxious to send her to the south of France, and I want -you to tell me how it can be cheaply and satisfactorily done. -I need not tell you, after what you saw of our life when you -were with us, that Lucy's education is a heavy strain upon -my purse. In fact, I give it to her because a profession is -almost the only provision I can make for her future. I -never allow myself to be absolutely unprepared for an -unexpected drain; but Lucy's hospital fees have just been paid, -and altogether this has come at a most unfortunate time." -</p> - -<p> -"I know very little about the matter at present," said -Mona, "but I can easily make enquiries, as I have friends in -the Riviera now. My impression is, that you can do it -satisfactorily, and at the same time cheaply; but I will let -you know before the end of the week." -</p> - -<p> -"If my aunt declines to rise to the occasion," she thought, -"I will manage by hook or by crook to make them take the -money from me." -</p> - -<p> -Meanwhile Doris and Lucy were getting on together pretty -well. Doris was shy, but she was prejudiced in Lucy's favour -by the fact that she was a woman and a medical student. -Lucy was not at all shy, but she was somewhat prejudiced -against Doris by the fact that she was Mona's oldest friend. -</p> - -<p> -"Did not Mona look lovely at Mrs Percival's 'At Home'?" -asked Lucy. "She always looks nice; but in that blue -velvet, with her old lace and pearls, I think she is like an -empress." -</p> - -<p> -"She has a very noble face, and a very lovable face. I -suppose she is not beautiful, though it is not always easy -to believe it." -</p> - -<p> -"Was she a great success?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't think I quite know what you mean by a success. -Mona never commands a room. Perhaps she might if she -laid herself out to do it. Every one who spoke to her seemed -much interested in her conversation." -</p> - -<p> -This was scarcely to the point. What Lucy wanted to -know was whether Mona had proved "fetching"; but -Doris's serene face was not encouraging, and she dared not -ask. -</p> - -<p> -"Mona is a fortunate being," she said. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, very!" -</p> - -<p> -"It must be delightful to have plenty of new gowns and -all sorts of pretty things." -</p> - -<p> -Doris looked aghast. Mona sometimes talked in this way, -but then Mona was—Mona. No one could look at her face -and suspect her of real frivolity; but this child ought to be -careful. -</p> - -<p> -"It must be a great deal more delightful to be able to study -medicine," she said, with a little more warmth than she -intended. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy shrugged her shoulders. "Oh yes," she said, -uncertain whether she was speaking in jest or in earnest. -Then she laughed,— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "So ist es in der Welt;<br /> - Der Eine hat den Beutel,<br /> - Der Andere das Geld."<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -"The fact is, our circles did not overlap much." she -confided to Mona afterwards. "Our circumferences just touched -somewhere about the middle of your circle." -</p> - -<p> -"You see, Doris is a great soul." -</p> - -<p> -"Ample reason, truly, why her circle should not coincide -with mine. But you know, Mona, she would be a deal more -satisfactory if she were a little less great, or a little small as -well." -</p> - -<p> -"She told me you were a dear little thing, and so pretty." -</p> - -<p> -"<i>She's</i> not pretty!" -</p> - -<p> -"Perhaps not, but she is fascinating, just because she never -tries to fascinate. A man of the world said to me at that -'At Home,' that Miss Colquhoun was just the woman to -drive a man over head and ears in love." -</p> - -<p> -"Did he really? Miss Colquhoun? How queer! What -did you say?" -</p> - -<p> -"I cordially agreed with him." -</p> - -<p> -"But has she had many offers?" -</p> - -<p> -"She would not talk of them if she had; but you may -take it as broadly true, that every man of her acquaintance -is either living in hope, or has practically—I say -<i>practically</i>—been rejected." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, Mona, that is a large order! You see, the fact is, I -am jealous of Miss Colquhoun." -</p> - -<p> -"My dear Pussy! Doris and I were chums before you -were born." -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Raison de plus</i>! Look here, dear! you say things to -me that you would not say to her?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh yes!" -</p> - -<p> -"And you don't say things to her that you would not -say to me?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh yes!" -</p> - -<p> -Lucy laughed, discomfited. "I choose not to believe it," -she said. -</p> - -<p> -Mona kissed her affectionately. "Come, that is right! -With that comfortable creed for a pillow, you ought to have -an excellent night." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap26"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXVI. -<br /><br /> -A CHAT BY THE FIRE. -</h3> - -<p> -Mona hesitated at the door of her own room, and then -decided to run down for ten minutes to the sitting-room fire. -She was too depressed to go to bed, and she wanted something -to change the current of her thoughts. To her surprise, -she found Mr Reynolds still in his large arm-chair, -apparently lost in thought. -</p> - -<p> -Prompted by a sudden impulse, she seated herself on a -stool close to him, and laid her hand on his knee. -</p> - -<p> -"Mr Reynolds," she said, "life looks very grey sometimes." -</p> - -<p> -He smiled. "We all have to make up our minds to that, -dear;" and after a pause he added, "This is a strange duty -that you have imposed upon yourself." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"For six months, is it not?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"How much of the time is over?" -</p> - -<p> -"Little more than one month." -</p> - -<p> -"And the life is very uncongenial?" -</p> - -<p> -"At the present moment—desperately. Not always," she -added, laughing bravely. "Sometimes I feel as if the sphere -were only too great a responsibility; but now—I don't know -how to face it to-morrow." -</p> - -<p> -"Poor child! I can only guess at all your motives for -choosing it; but you know that -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'Tasks in hours of insight willed,<br /> - Can be through hours of gloom fulfilled.'"<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -"Mr Reynolds, it was not insight, it was impulse. You -see, I really had worked intelligently and conscientiously -for years; I had never indulged in amusement purely for -amusement's sake; and when I failed a second time in my -examination, I felt as if the stars in their courses were -fighting against me. It seemed no use to try again. -Things had come to a deadlock. From the time when I -was little more than a child, I had had the ordering of my -own life, and perhaps you will understand how I longed for -some one to take the reins for a bit. On every side I saw -girls making light of, and ignoring, home duties; and, just I -suppose because I had never had any, such duties had always -seemed to me the most sacred and precious bit of moral -training possible. I considered at that time that my cousin -was practically my only living relative, and she was very -anxious that I should go to her. I had promised to -spend a fortnight with her in the autumn; but the day -after I knew that I had failed, I wrote offering to stay six -months. -</p> - -<p> -"Of course I ought to have waited till I saw her and the -place; but her niece had just been married, and she really -wanted a companion. If I did not go, she must look out -for some one else. I don't mean to pretend that that was -my only reason for acting impulsively. The real reason was, -that I wanted to commit myself to something definite, to -burn my boats on some coast or other. I seemed to have -muddled my own life, and here was a human being who -really wanted me, a human being who had some sort of -natural right to me." -</p> - -<p> -"Dear child, why did you not come and be my elder -daughter for a time? It would have been a grand thing -for me." -</p> - -<p> -Mona laughed through her tears, and, taking his delicate -white hand in both her own, she raised it to her lips. "Sir -Douglas said nearly the same thing, though he does not -know what I am doing; but either of you would have spoilt -me a great deal more than I had ever spoilt myself. You -were kind enough to ask me to come to you at the time; but -I thought then that I had passed my examination, and I did -not know you as I do now. I was restless, and wanted -to shake off the cobwebs on a walking tour: but when I -heard that I had failed all the energy seemed to go out -of me." -</p> - -<p> -It was some minutes before he spoke. -</p> - -<p> -"Tell me about your life at Borrowness. There is a shop, -is there not?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't quarrel with the shop," said Mona warmly: "the -shop is the redeeming feature. You don't know how it -brings me in contact with all sorts of little joys and sorrows. -I sometimes think I see the very selves of the women and -girls, as neither priest nor Sunday-school teacher does. I -have countless opportunities of sympathising, and helping, -and planning, and economising—even of educating the -tastes of the people the least little bit—and of suggesting -other ways of looking at things. And there is another side -to the question too. Some of those women teach me a great -deal more than I could ever teach them." -</p> - -<p> -"And what about your cousin?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona hesitated. "I told Lucy that to give even a plain, -unvarnished account of my life at Borrowness would be a -disloyalty to my cousin, but one can say anything to you. -Mr Reynolds, I knew before I went that my cousin was not -a gentlewoman, that ours had for two generations been the -successful, hers the unsuccessful, branch of my father's -family. I knew she lived a simple and narrow life: but -how could I tell that my cousin would be vulgar?—that if -under any circumstances it was possible to take a mean and -sordid view of a person, or an action, or a thing, she would -be sure to take that mean and sordid view? I have almost -made a vow never to lose my temper, but it is hard—it is -all the harder because she is so good! -</p> - -<p> -"Now you know the whole story. Pitch into me well. -You are the only person who is in a position to do it, so -your responsibility is great." -</p> - -<p> -He had never taken his eyes from her mobile face while -she was speaking. "I have no wish to pitch into you -well," he said; "you disarm one at every turn. I need -not tell you that your action in the first instance was -hasty and childish—perhaps redeemed by just a dash of -heroism." -</p> - -<p> -Mona lifted her face with quivering lips. -</p> - -<p> -"Never mind the heroism," she said, with a rather -pathetic smile. "It was hasty and childish." -</p> - -<p> -"But I do mind the heroism very much," he said, passing -his hand over her wavy brown hair. "I believe that some -of the deeds which we all look upon as instances of sublime -renunciation have been done in just such a spirit. It is one -of the cases in which it is very difficult to tell where the noble -stops and the ignoble begins. But of one thing I am quite -sure—the hasty and childish spirit speedily died a natural -death, and the spirit of heroism has survived to bear the -burden imposed by the two." -</p> - -<p> -"Don't talk of heroism in connection with me." Mona -bit her lip. "I see there is one thing more that I ought -to tell you, since I have told you so much. When I went -to Borrowness there was some one there a great deal more -cultured than myself, whose occasional society just made all -the difference in my life, though I did not recognise it at the -time. It is partly because I have not that to look forward -to when I go back that life seems so unbearable." -</p> - -<p> -"Man or woman?" -</p> - -<p> -"Man, but he was nice enough to be a woman." -</p> - -<p> -The words were spoken with absolute simplicity. Clearly, -the idea of love and marriage had not crossed her mind. -</p> - -<p> -"Did he know your circumstances?" -</p> - -<p> -"No; he took for granted that Borrowness was my home. -I might have told him; but my cousin had made me promise -not to mention the fact that I was a medical student." -</p> - -<p> -"And he has gone?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes; he may be back for a week or so at Christmas, but -I don't know even that." Mona looked up into the old -man's face. "Now," she said, "you know the whole truth -as thoroughly as I know it myself." -</p> - -<p> -He repaid her look with interest. -</p> - -<p> -"Honest is not the word for her," he thought. "She is -simply crystalline." -</p> - -<p> -"If I had the right," he said, "I should ask you to -promise me one thing." -</p> - -<p> -"Don't say '<i>If</i> had the right,'" said Mona. "Claim it." -</p> - -<p> -"Promise that you will not again give away your life, or -any appreciable part of it, on mere impulse, without -abundant consideration." -</p> - -<p> -"I will promise more than that if you like. I will -promise not to commit myself to anything new without first -consulting you." -</p> - -<p> -He could scarcely repress a smile. Evidently she did not -foresee the contingency that had prompted his words. What -a simple-hearted child she was, after all! -</p> - -<p> -"I decline to accept that promise," he said; "I have -abundant faith in your own judgment, if you only give it a -hearing. But when your mind is made up, you know where -to find a sympathetic ear; or if you should be in doubt or -difficulty, and care to have an old man's advice, you know -where to come for it. Make me the promise I asked for at -first; that is all I want." -</p> - -<p> -Mona looked up again with a smile, and clasped her hands -on his knee. "I promise," she said slowly, "never again to -give away my life, or any appreciable part of it, on mere -impulse, without abundant consideration." -</p> - -<p> -He smiled down at the bright face, and then stooped to -kiss her forehead. "And now," he said, "let us take the -present as we find it. I suppose no one but yourself can -decide whether this duty is the more or the less binding -because it is self-imposed." -</p> - -<p> -Mona's face expressed much surprise. "Oh," she said, -"I have not the smallest doubt on that score. I must go -through with it now that I have put my hand to the plough." -</p> - -<p> -"I am glad you think so, though there is something to be -said on the other side as well. Your mind is made up, and -that being so, you don't need me to tell you that you are -doubly bound to take the life bravely and brightly, because -you have chosen it yourself. Fortunately, yours is a nature -that will develop in any surroundings. But I do want to -say a word or two about your examination, and the life you -have thrown aside for the time. I know you don't talk -about it, but I think you will allow me to say what I feel. -Preaching, you know, is an old man's privilege." -</p> - -<p> -"Go on," said Mona, "talk to me. Nobody helps me but -you. It does me good even to hear your voice." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap27"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXVII. -<br /><br /> -A NEOPHYTE. -</h3> - -<p> -Once more Mona arrived at Borrowness, and once more -Rachel was awaiting her at the station. -</p> - -<p> -There was no illusion now about the life before her, no -uncertainty, no vague visions of self-renunciation and of a -vocation. All was flat, plain, shadowless prose. -</p> - -<p> -"I must e'en dree my weird," she said to herself as the -train drew into the station; but a bright face smiled at -Rachel from the carriage-window, a light step sprang on to -the platform, and a cheerful voice said— -</p> - -<p> -"Well, you see I am all but true to my word; and you -have no idea what a lot of pretty things I have brought -with me." -</p> - -<p> -"Mona," said Rachel mysteriously, as they walked down -the road to the house, "I have a piece of news for you. -Who do you think called?" -</p> - -<p> -"I am afraid I can't guess." -</p> - -<p> -"Mr Brown!" -</p> - -<p> -"Did he?" said Mona rather absently. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes. At first I was that put out at you being away, and -I had the awfullest hurry getting on my best dress; but just -as I was showing him out, who should pass but Mrs Robertson. -My word, didn't she stare! The Browns would never -think of calling on her. I told him you were away visiting -friends. I didn't say in London, for fear he might find out -about your meaning to be a doctor." -</p> - -<p> -"That would be dreadful, would not it?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, but you needn't be afraid. He said something -about its being a nice change for you to come here after -teaching, and I never let on you weren't a teacher, though it -was on the tip of my tongue to tell him what a nice bit of a -tocher you had of your own." -</p> - -<p> -"Pray don't say that to any one," said Mona rather -sharply. "I have no wish to be buzzed round by a lot of -raw Lubins in search of Phyllis with a tocher." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, my dear, you know you're getting on. It's best -to make hay while the sun shines." -</p> - -<p> -"True," said Mona cynically; "but when a woman has -even four hundred a year of her own, she has a good long -day before her." -</p> - -<p> -Early in the evening Bill arrived with Mona's boxes, and -the two cousins entered with equal zest upon the work of -unpacking them. "My word!" and "Well, I never!" fell -alternately from Rachel's lips as treasure after treasure came -to view. Ten pounds was a great sum of money, to be -sure; but who would have thought that even ten pounds -could buy all this? "You <i>are</i> a born shopkeeper, Mona!" -she said, with genuine admiration. -</p> - -<p> -Mona laughed. "Shall we advertise in the <i>Gazette</i> that -'Our Miss Maclean has just returned from a visit to London, -and has brought with her a choice selection of all the -novelties of the season'?" she said; but she withdrew the -suggestion hastily, when she saw that Rachel was disposed -to take it seriously. -</p> - -<p> -"And now," she went on, "there is one thing more, not -for the shop but for you;" and from shrouding sheets -of tissue-paper, she unfolded a quiet, handsome fur-lined -cloak. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, my goodness!" Rachel had never seen anything -so magnificent in her life, and the tears stood in her eyes as -she tried it on. -</p> - -<p> -"It's your kindness I'm thinking of, my dear, not of the -cloak," she said; "but there isn't the like of it between this -and St Rules. It'll last me all my life." -</p> - -<p> -Mona kissed her on the forehead, well pleased. -</p> - -<p> -"And I brought a plain muff and tippet for Sally. She -says she always has a cold in the winter. This is a reward -to her for spending some of her wages on winter flannels, -sorely against her will." -</p> - -<p> -"Dear me! She will be set up. There will be no keeping -her away from Bible Class and Prayer Meeting now! -It is nice having you back, Mona. I can't tell you how -many folk have been asking for you in the shop; there's -twice as much custom since you came. Miss Moir wouldn't -buy a hat till you came back to help her to choose it; and -Polly Baines from the Towers brought in some patterns -of cloth to ask your advice about a dress." -</p> - -<p> -"Did she? How sweet of her! I hope you told her to -call again. Has the Colonel's Jenny been in?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh no, it's very seldom she gets this length. -Kirkstoun's nearer, and there's better shops." -</p> - -<p> -"She told me there's no one to write her letters for -her, since Maggie went away, and I promised to go out -there before long and act the part of scribe. It was quite a -weight on my mind while I was in London, but I will go as -soon as I get these things arranged in the shop. Has the -Colonel gone yet?" -</p> - -<p> -"No; I understand he goes to his sister's to-morrow." -</p> - -<p> -Most of Jenny's acquaintances gladly seized the opportunity -to call on her when her master was away from home. -The Colonel had the reputation of being the most -outrageously eccentric man in the whole country-side, and it -required courage of no common order to risk an accidental -encounter with him. He might chance, of course, to be in -an extremely affable humour, but it was impossible to make -sure of this beforehand; and one thing was quite certain, -that the natural frankness of his intercourse with his -fellow-men was not likely to be modified by any sense of tact, -or even of common decency. What he thought he said, -and he often delighted in saying something worse than -his deliberate thought. Not many years before, his family -had owned the whole of the estate on which he was now -content to rent a pretty cottage, standing some miles from -the sea, in a few acres of pine-wood. Here he lived for a -great part of the year, alone with his quaint old housekeeper -Jenny, taking no part in the social life of the neighbourhood, -but calling on whom he chose, when he chose, regardless -of all etiquette in the matter. Strange tales were told -of him—tales to which Jenny listened in sphinx-like silence, -never giving wing to a bit of gossip by so much as an "Ay" -or "Nay." She had grown thoroughly accustomed to the -old man's ways, and it seemed to be nothing to her if -his language was as strong as his potions. -</p> - -<p> -"Have a glass of whisky and water, Colonel?" Mrs -Hamilton had asked one cold morning, when he dropped -into her house soon after breakfast. -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you, madam," he had replied, "I won't trouble -you for the water." -</p> - -<p> -The clever old lady was a prime favourite with him, -the more so as she considered it the prescriptive right -of a soldier of good family to be as outrageous as he chose. -</p> - -<p> -He was a kind-hearted man, too, and fond of children, -though they rarely lost their fear of him. He was reported -to be "unco near," but if he met a bright-faced child whom -he knew, in his favourite resort, the post-office, he would -say— -</p> - -<p> -"Sixpenn'orth of sweets for this young lady, Mr Dalgleish. -You may put in as many more as you like from -yourself, but sixpenn'orth will be from me." -</p> - -<p> -Mona was somewhat curious to see the old man, as -she fancied that in her childhood she had heard her father -speak of him; but her time was fully occupied in the -shop for some days after her return. Rachel had actually -consented to have the old place re-papered and painted, and -when Mona put the finishing touch to her arrangements one -afternoon, no one would have recognised "Miss Simpson's -shop." -</p> - -<p> -Mona clapped her hands in triumph, and feasted her -eyes on the work of reformation. Then she looked at -her watch, but it was already late, and as the Colonel's wood -lay three or four miles off, her visit had to be postponed once -more. She was too tired to sketch, so she took a book and -strolled down to Castle Maclean. -</p> - -<p> -It was a quiet, grey afternoon. The distant hills were -blotted out, but the rocky coast was as grand as ever, -and the plash of the waves, as they broke on the beach -beneath her, was sweeter in her ears than music. -</p> - -<p> -She was disturbed in her reverie by a step on the rocks, -and for a moment her heart beat quicker. Then she almost -laughed at her own stupidity. And well she might, for -the step only heralded the approach of Matilda Cookson, -with her smart hat and luxuriant red hair. -</p> - -<p> -"Where ever have you been, Miss Maclean?" she began -rather breathlessly, seating herself on a ledge of rock. -"I have been looking out for a chance of speaking to -you for nearly a fortnight." -</p> - -<p> -Mona's face expressed the surprise she felt. -</p> - -<p> -"I have been away from home," she said. "What -did you want with me?" -</p> - -<p> -"Away from home! Then you haven't told anybody yet?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona began to think that one or other of them must -be the victim of delusional insanity. -</p> - -<p> -"Told anybody—<i>what?</i>" -</p> - -<p> -Matilda frowned. If Miss Maclean had really noticed -nothing, it was a pity she had gone out of her way to broach -the subject, but she could not withdraw from it now. -</p> - -<p> -"I thought you saw me—that day at St Rules." -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Oh!</i>" said Mona, as the recollection came slowly back to -her. "So I did,—but why do you wish me not to tell any -one?" -</p> - -<p> -Matilda blushed violently at the direct question, and -proceeded to draw designs on the carpet of Castle Maclean with -the end of her umbrella. She had intended to dispose of -the matter in a few airy words; and she felt convinced still -that she could have done so in her own house, or in Miss -Simpson's shop, if she had chanced to see Miss Maclean -alone in either place. But Mona looked so serenely and -provokingly at home out here on the rocks, with the half-cut -German book in her delicate white hands, that the whole -affair began to assume a much more serious aspect. -</p> - -<p> -Mona studied the crimson face attentively. -</p> - -<p> -It had been her strong instinctive impulse to say, "My -dear child, if you had not reminded me of it I should never -have thought of the matter again," and so to dismiss the -subject. But she was restrained from doing so by a vague -recollection of her conversation with Dr Dudley about these -girls. She forgot that she was supposed to be their social -inferior, and remembered only that she was a woman, responsible -in a greater or a less degree for every girl with whom -she came in contact. -</p> - -<p> -She laid her hand on her visitor's shoulder. -</p> - -<p> -"You may be quite sure," she said, "that I don't want to -get you into trouble, but I think you had better tell me why -you wish me not to speak of this." -</p> - -<p> -Mona's touch was mesmeric,—at least Matilda Cookson -found it so. In all her vapid little life she had never -experienced anything like the thrill that passed through her -now. She would have confessed anything at that moment, -and perhaps have regretted her frankness bitterly an -hour later; for, after all, confession is only occasionally of -moral value in itself, however priceless it may be in its -results. -</p> - -<p> -The story was not a particularly novel one, even to Mona's -inexperienced ears. Two years before, all the girls in Miss -Barnett's private school at Kirkstoun had been "in love" -with the drawing-master, who came twice a week from St -Rules. His languid manner and large dark eyes had -wrought havoc within the "narrowing nunnery walls," and -when his work at St Rules had increased so much that he -no longer required Miss Barnett's support, he had taken his -departure amid much wailing and lamentation. -</p> - -<p> -Matilda had gone soon after to a London boarding-school, -where she had forgotten all about him; but a chance meeting -at a dance, on her return, had renewed the old attraction. -This first chance meeting had been followed by a -number of others; and when, only a short time before, Mrs -Cookson had suddenly decreed that Matilda was to go to St -Rules once a week for music lessons, the temptation to create -a few more "chance meetings" had proved irresistible. -</p> - -<p> -Mona was rather at a loss to know what to do with the -confession, now that she had got it. She knew so little of -this girl. What were her gods? Had she any heroes?—any -heroines?—any ideals? Was there anything in her to -which one might appeal? Mona was too young herself to -attack the situation with weapons less cumbrous than heavy -artillery. -</p> - -<p> -"How old are you?" she asked suddenly. -</p> - -<p> -"Eighteen." -</p> - -<p> -"And don't you mean to be a fine woman—morally a fine -woman, I mean?" -</p> - -<p> -"Morally a fine woman"—the words, spoken half shyly, -half wistfully, were almost an unknown tongue to Matilda -Cookson. Almost, but not quite. They called up vague -visions of evening services, and of undefined longings for -better things,—visions, more distinct, of a certain "revival," -when she had become "hysterical," had stayed to the -"enquiry meeting," and had professed to be "converted." She -had been very happy then for a few weeks, but the -happiness had not lasted long. Those things never did -last; they were all pure excitement, as her father had said -at the time. What was the use of raking up that old story -now? -</p> - -<p> -"I don't see that there was any great harm in my meeting -him," she said doggedly. -</p> - -<p> -"I am quite sure you did not mean any great harm; but -do you know how men talk about girls who 'give -themselves away,' as they call it?" -</p> - -<p> -Matilda coloured. "I am sure he would not say anything -horrid about me. He is awfully in love." -</p> - -<p> -"Is he? I don't know much about love; but if he loves -you, you surely want him to respect you. You would not -like him to be a worse man for loving you,—and he must -become a worse man, if he has a low opinion of women." -</p> - -<p> -"You mean that I am not to meet him any more?" -</p> - -<p> -"I mean that he cannot possibly respect you, while he -knows you meet him without your mother's knowledge." -</p> - -<p> -"And suppose I won't promise not to meet him again, -what will you do?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't consider that I have the smallest right to exact a -promise from you." -</p> - -<p> -"Then you won't speak of this to any one, whatever -happens?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona smiled. "I am not quite clear that you have any -right to exact a promise from me." -</p> - -<p> -Matilda could not help joining in the smile. This was -good fencing. -</p> - -<p> -"At any rate, you have not told any one yet?" -</p> - -<p> -"I have not." -</p> - -<p> -"Not Miss Simpson?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not any one; and therefore not Miss Simpson." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, I must say it was very kind of you." -</p> - -<p> -"I am afraid I ought not to accept your praise; it never -occurred to me to speak of it." -</p> - -<p> -"And yet you recognised me?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona laughed outright—a very friendly laugh. -</p> - -<p> -"And yet I recognised you." -</p> - -<p> -Matilda drew the sole of her high-heeled shoe over -the ground in front of her, and began an entirely new -design. -</p> - -<p> -"What do you mean by 'respect,' Miss Maclean? It is -such a chilly word. There is no warmth or colour in it." -</p> - -<p> -"There is no warmth nor colour in the air, yet air is even -more essential than sunshine." -</p> - -<p> -There was silence for some minutes. Matilda obliterated -the new design with a little stamp of her foot. -</p> - -<p> -"Long ago, when I was a girl, I began to believe in self-denial, -and high ideals, and all that sort of thing. But you -can't work it in with your everyday life. It is all a dream." -</p> - -<p> -"A dream!" said Mona softly,— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "'No, no, by all the martyrs and the dear dead Christ!'<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -Everything else is a dream. That is real. That was your -chance in life. You should have clung to it with both -hands. Your soul is drowning now for want of it, in a sea -of nothingness." -</p> - -<p> -The revival preacher himself could scarcely have spoken -more strongly, and Matilda felt a slight pleasurable return of -the old excitement. She did not show it, however. -</p> - -<p> -"It is easy to talk," she said, "but you don't know what -it is to be the richest people in a place like this. Pa and -Ma won't let anybody speak to us. I believe it will end in -our never getting married at all. We shall be out of the -wood before they find their straight stick." -</p> - -<p> -"My dear child, is marriage the end of life? And even -if it is, surely the girls who make good wives are those who -are content to be the life and brightness of their home circle, -and who are not constantly straining their eyes in search of -the knight-errant who is to deliver them from Giant Irksome." -</p> - -<p> -In the course of her life in London, Mona had met many -girls who chafed at home duties, and longed for a 'sphere,' -but a girl who longed for a husband, <i>quâ</i> husband, was so -surprising an instance of atavism as to be practically a new -type. -</p> - -<p> -Matilda sighed. "You don't know what our home life -is," she said. "We pay calls, and people call on us; we go -for proper walks along the highroad; we play on the piano -and we do crewel-work; we get novels from the library,—and -that is all. Just the same thing over and over again." -</p> - -<p> -"And don't you care enough for books and music to find -scope in them?" -</p> - -<p> -Matilda shook her head. "Can you read German!" she -asked abruptly, looking at Mona's book. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes; do you?" -</p> - -<p> -"No; and I never in my life met any one who could, unless -perhaps my German teachers. I took it for three years -at school, but I should not know one word in ten now. I -wish I did! We had a nice row, I can tell you, when I first -came home from school, and Father brought in a German -letter from the office one day. He actually expected me to -be able to read it!" -</p> - -<p> -"You could easily learn. It only wants a little dogged -resolution,—enough to worry steadily through one German -story-book with a dictionary. After that the neck of the -difficulty is broken." -</p> - -<p> -Matilda made a grimace. "I have only got <i>Bilderbuch</i>," -she said, "and I know the English of that by heart, from -hearing the girls go over and over it in class. Start me off, -and I can go on; but I can scarcely tell you which word -stands for moon." -</p> - -<p> -She was almost startled at her own frankness. She had -never talked like this to any one before. -</p> - -<p> -"You know I am not going to take you at your own valuation. -Let me judge for myself," and Mona opened her book -at the first page and held it out. -</p> - -<p> -Matilda put her hands up to her face. "<i>Don't!</i>" she said. -"I couldn't bear to let you see how little I know. But I -will try to learn. I will begin <i>Bilderbuch</i> this very night, -though I hate it as much as I do <i>Lycidas</i> and <i>Hamlet</i>, and -everything else I read at school." -</p> - -<p> -Mona shivered involuntarily. "Don't read anything you -are sick of," she said. "If you like, I will lend you an -interesting story that will tempt you on in spite of yourself." -</p> - -<p> -"Thanks awfully. You are very kind." -</p> - -<p> -"I shall be very glad to help you if you get into a real -difficulty." Mona paused. "As I said before, I have no -right to exact a promise from you—but I can't tell you how -much more highly I should think of you if you did worry on -to the end." -</p> - -<p> -The conclusion of this sentence took Matilda by surprise. -She had imagined that Mona was going back to the subject -of the drawing-master, but Mona seemed to have forgotten -the existence of everything but German books. -</p> - -<p> -"And may I come here sometimes in the afternoon, and -talk to you? I often see you go down to the beach." -</p> - -<p> -"I never know beforehand when I shall be able to come; -but, if you care to take the chance, I shall always be glad to -see you." -</p> - -<p> -"The new Adam will," she said to herself, with a half-amused, -half-rueful smile, when her visitor had gone, "but -the old Adam will have a tussle for his rights." -</p> - -<p> -A moment later Matilda reappeared, shy and awkward. -</p> - -<p> -"Would you mind telling me again that thing you said -about the martyrs?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona smiled. "If you wait a moment, I will write it -down for you;" and, tearing a leaf from her note-book, she -wrote out the whole verse— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "No, no, by all the martyrs and the dear dead Christ;<br /> - By the long bright roll of those whom joy enticed<br /> - With her myriad blandishments, but could not win,<br /> - Who would fight for victory, but would not sin."<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Matilda read it through, and then carefully folded the -paper. In doing so she noticed some writing on the back, -and read aloud— -</p> - -<p> -"Lady Munro, Poste Restante, Cannes." "Who is Lady -Munro?" she asked, with unintentional rudeness. -</p> - -<p> -"She is my aunt. I did not know her address was written -there." Mona tore off the name, and handed back the -slip of paper. -</p> - -<p> -"Lady Munro your aunt, and you live with Miss Simpson?" -</p> - -<p> -"Why not? Miss Simpson is my cousin." -</p> - -<p> -"Miss Maclean, if I had a 'Lady' for my aunt, everybody -should know it. I don't believe I should even travel in -a railway carriage, without the other passengers finding it -out." -</p> - -<p> -Mona laughed. "I have already told you that I don't -mean to take you at your own valuation. In point of fact, -I had much rather the people here knew nothing about Lady -Munro. I should not like others to draw comparisons -between her and Miss Simpson." -</p> - -<p> -"I beg your pardon. I did not mean——" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I know you did not mean any harm. It was my -own stupidity; but, as I say, I should not like others to talk -of it. <i>Auf Wiedersehen!</i>" -</p> - -<p> -Alone once more, Mona clasped her hands behind her head, -and looked out over the sea. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, playfellow," she said, "have I done good or harm? -At the present moment, as she walks home, she does not -know whether to venerate or to detest me. It is an even -chance which way the scale will turn. And is it all an -affair of infinite importance, or does it not matter one -whit?" -</p> - -<p> -This estimate of Matilda's state of mind was a shrewd one, -except for one neglected item. Now that the moment of -impulse was over, the balance might have been even: but -Lady Munro's name had turned the scale, and Matilda -'venerated' her new friend. Mona's strong and vivid -personality would have made any one forget in her presence -that she was 'only a shop-girl'; but no power on earth -could prevent the recollection from returning—perhaps with -renewed force—when her immediate influence was withdrawn. -If a man of culture like Dr Dudley could not wholly -ignore the fact of her social inferiority, how much less was -it possible to an empty little soul like Matilda Cookson? for -she was one of those people to whose moral and spiritual -progress an earthly crutch is absolutely essential. She never -forgot that conversation at Castle Maclean; but the two -things that in after years stood out most clearly in her -memory were the quotation about the martyrs, and Mona's -relationship to Lady Munro. And surely this is not so -strange? Do not even the best of us stand with one foot on -the eternal rock, and the other on the shifting sands of time? -</p> - -<p> -"How odd that she should be struck by that quotation!" -mused Mona. "I wonder what Dr Dudley would say if he -knew that the notes of the Pilgrims' Chorus, rising clear, -steady, and unvarying above all the noises of the world, -appealed even to the stupid little ears of Matilda Cookson. -If the mother is no more than he says, there must be some -good stuff in the father. <i>Ex nihilo, nihil fit</i>." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap28"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXVIII. -<br /><br /> -THE COLONEL'S YARN. -</h3> - -<p> -The next morning brought Mona a budget of letters on -the subject of Lucy's visit to the Riviera. Lady Munro had -risen to the occasion magnificently. "If your friend is in -the least like you," she wrote, "I shall be only too glad to -have her as a companion for Evelyn. I have written to ask -her to be my guest for a month, and the sooner she comes -the better." -</p> - -<p> -"I have only known you for a few years," wrote Lucy, -"and I seem to have grown tired of saying that I don't know -how to thank you. It will be nuts for me to go to Cannes, -without feeling that my father is living on hasty-pudding at -home; and it will be a great thing to be with people like the -Munros; but if they expect that I am going to live up to -your level, I shall simply give up the ghost at once. I have -written to assure them that I am an utter and unmitigated -fraud; but do you tell them the same, in case there should -be bloodshed on my arrival. -</p> - -<p> -"As for your dear letter and enclosure, I handed them -straight over to Father, and asked him what I was to do. -He read the letter twice through carefully, and then gave -me back—the bank-note only! 'Keep it,' he said briefly; -and I fancied—I say I <i>fancied</i>—that there was a suspicious -dimness about his eyes. You have indeed made straight -tracks for the Pater's heart, Mistress Mona, if he allows his -daughter to accept twenty pounds from you. -</p> - -<p> -"Allowing for all the expenses of the journey, I find I can -afford two gowns and a hat, and much anxious thought the -selection has given me, I assure you. One thing I have -absolutely settled on,—a pale sea-green Liberty silk, with -suggestions of foam; and when I decided on that, I came -simultaneously to another decision, that life is worth living -after all. -</p> - -<p> -"I only wish I felt perfectly sure that you could afford it, -darling. You told me you were getting nothing new for -yourself this winter, &c., &c." -</p> - -<p> -Finally, there was a little note from Mr Reynolds to his -"elder daughter,"—a note in no way remarkable for originality, -yet full of that personal, life-giving influence which is -worth a thousand brilliant aphorisms. -</p> - -<p> -Mona was very busy in the shop that morning, but in her -spare minutes she contrived to write a letter to Lucy. -</p> - -<p> -"I do not wish to put you in an awkward position," she -wrote, "but I think you have sufficient ingenuity and -resource to keep me out of difficulties also. You know that -when I promised to go to my cousin, I had not even seen -the Munros. I met them immediately afterwards: and our -intimacy has ripened so rapidly that I should not now -think it right to take an important step in life without at -least letting them know. I mean to tell them ultimately -about my winter in Borrowness; but nothing they could say -would alter my opinion of my obligation to remain here, and -I think I am justified in wishing to avoid useless friction in -the meantime. You can imagine what the situation would -be, if Sir Douglas were to appear in the shop some fine -morning, and demand my instant return to civilised life. He -is quite capable of doing it, and I am very anxious if -possible to avoid such a clumsy <i>dénouement</i>. You will see at a -glance how inartistic it would be. -</p> - -<p> -"You will tell me that it is absolutely impossible to -conceal the truth, but I do not think you will find it so when -you get to Cannes. It is very doubtful whether you will see -Sir Douglas at all,—he is looking forward so much to the -pheasant-shooting; and Lady Munro is not the person to ask -questions except in a general sort of way. She exists far too -gracefully for that. You can honestly say, if needful, that I -am very busy, but that I have not yet returned to town; I -don't think you will find it necessary to say even that. -</p> - -<p> -"But show me up a thousand times over rather than sail -nearer the wind than your conscience approves. I merely -state the position, and I know you will appreciate my -difficulty quite as fully as I do myself. -</p> - -<p> -"Please don't have the smallest scruple about accepting -the money. When I told you I was 'on the rocks,' I did -not mean it in the sense in which a young man about town -would use the expression. My debts did not amount to more -than twenty or thirty pounds. All things in life are -relative, you see. I spent nothing in Norway, and my cousin -will not hear of my paying for my board here. She is kind -enough to say that, even pecuniarily, she is richer since I -came. Of course I do not want any more gowns; I go -nowhere, and see no one. Doris tells me she is studying -medicine—by proxy. I am glad to think that I shall be -shining in society this winter—also by proxy. I hope I may -have the good fortune to see you in your new <i>rôle</i> of mermaid -before the run is over. I am sure it will be a very -successful one. -</p> - -<p> -"Please give your father my most dutiful love, and tell -him that I will answer his kind note in a day or two." -</p> - -<p> -The writing of this letter, together with a few grateful -lines to Lady Munro, occupied all Mona's spare time before -dinner; and as soon as the unbeautiful meal was over, she -set off at last to the Colonel's wood. -</p> - -<p> -"If the scale has turned against me, Matilda Cookson -will not go to Castle Maclean," she reflected. "If it has -turned in my favour, it will do her no harm to look for -me in vain." -</p> - -<p> -She had to walk in to Kirkstoun, and then strike up -country for two or three miles; but before she had -proceeded far on her way, she met Mr Brown. -</p> - -<p> -"So you have got back," he said, looking very shy and -uncomfortable. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I have been back for some days." -</p> - -<p> -"How is Miss Simpson?" -</p> - -<p> -"She is very well, thank you." -</p> - -<p> -"Were you going anywhere in particular?" -</p> - -<p> -"I am going to Barntoun Wood, but don't let me take -you out of your way," she said. -</p> - -<p> -He did not answer, but walked by her side into town. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you take ill with the smell of tobacco?" he asked, -taking his pipe from his pocket. -</p> - -<p> -"Not in the least." -</p> - -<p> -"Have you been doing any more botanising?" -</p> - -<p> -"I have not had time. Thank you so much for sending -me that box of treasures. Some of them interested me -greatly." -</p> - -<p> -"I thought you would like them. Will you be able to -come again some day, and hunt for yourself?" -</p> - -<p> -"Is not it getting too late in the year?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not for the mosses and lichens and sea-weeds. Have -you gone into them at all?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not a bit. They must be extremely interesting, but -very difficult." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, you get hold of the thread in time, especially with -the mosses. The Algæ and Fungi are a tremendous subject -of course. One can only work a bit on the borders of it. -But if you care to come for a few more rambles, I could -soon show you the commonest things we have, and a few -of the rarer ones." -</p> - -<p> -"I should like it immensely. Could your sister come -with us?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh yes; she was not really tired that day. It was just -that her boot was too tight. I had a laugh at her when we -got home." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, I suppose we part company here. I am going out -to Colonel Lawrence's." -</p> - -<p> -"I am not doing anything particular this afternoon. I -could walk out with you." -</p> - -<p> -The words were commonplace, but something in his -manner startled Mona. -</p> - -<p> -As regarded the gift of utterance, Mr Brown was not -many degrees removed from the dumb creation. He could -discuss a cashmere with the traveller, a right-of-way with a -fellow-townsman, or a bit of local gossip with his sisters. -He could talk botany to a clever young woman, and he -could blurt out in honest English the fact that he wanted -her to be his wife; but of love-making as an art, of the -delicate crescendo by which women are won in spite of -themselves, he was as ignorant as a child. It was natural -and easy to his mind to make one giant stride from botany -to marriage; and it never occurred to him that the woman -might require a few of those stepping-stones which developing -passion usually creates for the lover, and which <i>savoir -vivre</i> teaches the man of the world to place deliberately. -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you very much," said Mona; "but I could not -think of troubling you. I am well used to going about -alone." She held out her hand, but, as he did not -immediately take it, she bowed cordially, and left him -helplessly watching her retreating figure. -</p> - -<p> -She passed the museum, and, leaving the town behind her, -walked out among the fields. Most of the corn had been -gathered in, but a few stooks still remained here and there -to break the monotony of the stubble-grown acres. Trees -in that district were so rare that one scraggy sycamore -by the roadside had been christened Balmarnie Tree, and -served as an important landmark; while, for many miles -around, the Colonel's tiny wood stood out as a feature of -the landscape, the little freestone cottage peeping from -beneath the dark shade of the pines like a rabbit from its -burrow. -</p> - -<p> -"It seems to me, my dear," she said to herself, "that you -are rather a goose. Are you only seventeen, may I ask, -that you should be alarmed by a conversation from Ollendorf? -But all the same, if Miss Brown's shoe pinches her -next time, my shoe shall pinch me too." -</p> - -<p> -She passed Wester and Easter Barntoun, the two large -farms that constituted the greater part of the estate: and -then a quarter of an hour's walk brought her to Barntoun -Wood. A few small cottar-houses stood within a stone's-throw -of the gate, but the place seemed curiously lonely to -be the chosen home of an old man of the world. Yet there -could be no doubt that it was a gentleman's residence. A -well-trained beech hedge surmounted the low stone dyke, -from whose moss-grown crannies sprang a forest of polypody, -and a few graceful fronds of wild maidenhair. The -carriage-drive was smooth and well kept, but, on leaving it, one -plunged at once into the shade of the trees, with generations -of pine-needles under foot, and the weird cooing of -wood-pigeons above one's head. Mona longed to explore those -mysterious recesses, but there was no time for that to-day. -She walked straight up to the house and knocked. -</p> - -<p> -She was met in the doorway by the quaintest old man she -had ever beheld. His clean-shaven face was a network of -wrinkles, and he wore a nut-brown wig surmounted by a -red night-cap. -</p> - -<p> -"Who are you?" he asked abruptly. -</p> - -<p> -"I am Mona Maclean." Some curious impulse prompted -her to add, for the first time during her stay at Borrowness, -not "Miss Simpson's cousin," but, "Gordon Maclean's -daughter." -</p> - -<p> -He seized her almost roughly by the shoulder, and turned -her face to the light. -</p> - -<p> -"By Gad, so you are!" he exclaimed, "though you are -not so bonny as your mother was before you. But come in, -come in; and tell me all about it." -</p> - -<p> -He opened the door of an old-fashioned, smoke-seasoned -parlour, and Mona went in. -</p> - -<p> -"But I did not mean to disturb you," she said. "I came -to see Jenny." -</p> - -<p> -"Tut, tut, sit down, sit down! Jenny, damn ye, come -and put a spunk to this fire. There's a young lady -here." -</p> - -<p> -The old woman came in, bobbing to Mona as she passed. -She was not at all surprised to see Miss Simpson's assistant -in her master's parlour. One of Jenny's chief qualifications -for her post of housekeeper was the fact that she had long -ceased to speculate about the Colonel's vagaries. -</p> - -<p> -"I wonder what I have got that I can offer you?" said -the old man meditatively. He unlocked a small sideboard, -produced from it some rather mouldy sweet biscuits, and -poured out a glass of wine. -</p> - -<p> -"That's lady's wine," he said, "so you need not be afraid -of it. It's not what I drink myself." He laughed, and, -helping himself to a small glass of whisky, he looked across -at his visitor. -</p> - -<p> -"Here's to old times and Gordon Maclean!" he said, -"the finest fellow that ever kept open house at Rangoon," -and he tossed off the whisky at a gulp. -</p> - -<p> -Mona drank the toast, and smiled through a sudden and -blinding mist of tears. It was meat and drink to her to -hear her father's praise even on lips like these. -</p> - -<p> -"Come, come, don't fret," said the Colonel kindly. "He -was a fine fellow, as I say, but I think he knew the way to -heaven all the same." -</p> - -<p> -"I am quite sure of that." -</p> - -<p> -"That's right, that's right. Where are you stopping—the -Towers?—Balnamora?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, no; I am staying at Borrowness, with my cousin -Miss Simpson." -</p> - -<p> -He stared at her blankly. -</p> - -<p> -"Miss Simpson?" he said, "Rachel Simpson!" His jaw -dropped, and, throwing back his head on the top of his chair, -he burst into an unpleasant laugh. -</p> - -<p> -"Your father was a rich man, though he died young," he -said, recovering himself suddenly. "He must have left you -a tidy little portion." -</p> - -<p> -"So he did," said Mona. "Things were sadly mismanaged -after his death; but in the end I got what was quite -sufficient for me." -</p> - -<p> -"You have had a good education?—learned to sing, and -parley-voo, and"—he ran his fingers awkwardly up and -down the table—"this sort of thing?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona laughed. "Yes," she said, "I have learned all -that." -</p> - -<p> -He puffed away at his pipe for a time in silence. -</p> - -<p> -"Why are you not with the Munros?" he said abruptly. -"With Munro's eye for a pretty young woman, too!" -</p> - -<p> -"The Munros took me to Norway this summer. Sir -Douglas is kindness itself, and so is Lady Munro; but Miss -Simpson is my cousin." -</p> - -<p> -He laughed again, the same discordant laugh. -</p> - -<p> -"Drink your wine, Miss Maclean," he said, "and I will -spin you a bit of a yarn. Maybe some of it will be news to -you. -</p> - -<p> -"A great many years before you were bora, my grandfather -was the laird of all this property. Your father's -people, the Macleans, were tenants on the estate—respectable, -well-to-do tenants, in a small way. Your grandfather -was a remarkable man, cut out for success from his -cradle,—always at the top of his class at school, don't you -know? always keen to know what made the wheels go round, always -ready to touch his hat to the ladies. His only brother, -Sandy, was a ne'er-do-weel who never came to anything, but -your grandfather soon became a rich man. There were two -sisters, and each took after one of the brothers, so to say. -Margaret was a fine, strapping, fair-spoken wench; Ann was -a poor fusionless thing, who married the first man that asked -her. Margaret never married. The best grain often stands. -</p> - -<p> -"Your grandfather had, let me see, three children—two -boys and a girl. A boy and girl died. It was a sad story—you'll -know all about it?—fine healthy children, too! But -your father was a chip of the old block. He had a first-rate -education, and then he went to India and made a great -name for himself. I never knew a man like him. People -opened their hearts and homes to him wherever he went. -Not a door that was closed to him, and yet he never forgot -an old friend. Well, the first time he came home, like the -gentleman he was, he must needs look up his people here. -Most of them were dead. Sandy had gone to Australia; -there were only Ann's children, Rachel Simpson and her -sister Jane. Jane had married a small shopkeeper, and had -a boy and girl of her own. They were very poor, so he made -each of them a yearly allowance. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, he was visiting with his young wife at a house not -a hundred miles from here, and the two of them were the -life of the party. I know all about it, because I came to -stay at the house myself a day or two before they left. -After they had gone—<i>after they had gone</i>, mark ye!—who -should come to call at the house in all their war-paint but -Rachel Simpson and her sister! And, by Jove! they were -a queerish couple. Rachel had notions of her own about -dress in those days, I can tell you." -</p> - -<p> -Mona blushed crimson. No one who knew Rachel could -have much doubt that the story was true. -</p> - -<p> -"They announced themselves as 'Gordon Maclean's -cousins,' and of course they were civilly received; but the -footman got orders that if they called again his mistress was -not at home. I had a pretty good inkling that Maclean -was providing them with funds, so I thought it only right -to tip him a wink. He took it amazingly well—he was a -good fellow!—but I believe he gave his fair cousins pretty -plainly to understand that, though he was willing to share his -money, his friends were his own till he chose to introduce -them. I never heard of their playing that little game again, -for, after all, the funds were of even more importance than -the high connections. But they never forgave your father. -They always thought that he might have pulled them up -the ladder with him—ha, ha, ha! a pretty fair weight they -would have been!" -</p> - -<p> -Mona did not laugh. Nothing could make the least -difference now, but she did wish she had heard this story -before. -</p> - -<p> -"You did not know old Simpy in your father's time?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona hesitated. She was half inclined to resent the -insulting diminutive, but what was the use? The Colonel -took liberties with every one, and perhaps he could tell her -more. -</p> - -<p> -"No," she said. "I vaguely knew that I had a cousin, but -I never thought much about it till she wrote to me a few -years ago." -</p> - -<p> -"The deuce she did! To borrow money, I'll be bound. -That nephew of hers was a regular sink for money, till he -and his mother died. But Simpy should be quite a millionaire -now. She has the income your father settled on her. -and a little money besides—let alone the shop! She is not -sponging on you now, I hope?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh no," said Mona warmly. "On the contrary, I am -staying here as her guest." -</p> - -<p> -He burst out laughing again. -</p> - -<p> -"Rather you than me!" he said. "But well you may; -it is all your father's money, first or last." -</p> - -<p> -Mona rose to go. -</p> - -<p> -"I am glad you have told me all this," she said, "though -it is rather depressing." -</p> - -<p> -"Depressing? Hoot, havers! It will teach you how to -treat Rachel Simpson for the future. I have a likeness of -your father and mother here. Would you like to see it?" -</p> - -<p> -"Very much indeed. It may be one I have never seen." -</p> - -<p> -He took up a shabby old album, and turned his back -while he found the place; but a page must have slipped -over by accident in his shaky old hands, for when Mona -looked she beheld only a vision of long white legs and flying -gauzy petticoats. -</p> - -<p> -"Damnation!" shouted the old man, and snatching the -book away, he hastily corrected his mistake. -</p> - -<p> -It was all right this time. No living faces were so familiar -to Mona as were those of the earnest, capable man, and -the beautiful, queenly woman in the photograph. -</p> - -<p> -"I have never seen this before," she said. "It is very good." -</p> - -<p> -"I'll leave it to you in my will, eh? It will be worth as -much as most of my legacies." -</p> - -<p> -"If everything you leave is as much valued as that will -be, your legatees will have much to be grateful for." -</p> - -<p> -The old face furrowed up into a broad smile. "Well," he -said, "I start for London to-night, but I hope we may meet -again. I'll send Jenny in to see you. We are good comrades, -she and I—we never enquire into each other's affairs." -</p> - -<p> -Mona found it rather difficult to give her full attention to -Jenny's letters, interesting and characteristic as these were. -One was addressed to a sailor brother; another to Maggie, -and the latter was not at all unlike a quaint paraphrase of -Polonius's advice to his son. The poor woman's mind was -apparently ill at ease about the child of her old age. -</p> - -<p> -"I suld hae keepit her by me," she said. "She's ower -young tae fend for hersel'; but it was a guid place, an' she -was that keen tae gang, puir bit thing!" -</p> - -<p> -"I do think it would be well if you could get her a good -place somewhere in the neighbourhood," said Mona; "and I -should not think it would be difficult." -</p> - -<p> -"Ay, but she maun bide her year. It's an ill beginning -tae shift ere the twel'month's oot. We maun e'en thole." -</p> - -<p> -But Jenny forgot her forebodings in her admiration of -Mona's handwriting. -</p> - -<p> -"I can maist read it mysel'," she said. "Ye write lood -oot, like the print i' the big Bible." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap29"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXIX. -<br /><br /> -"YONDER SHINING LIGHT." -</h3> - -<p> -Miss Simpson's shop had undeniably become one of the -lions of Borrowness. An advertisement in the <i>Kirkstoun -Gazette</i> would have been absolutely useless, compared with -the rumour which ran from mouth to mouth, and which -brought women of all classes to see the novelties for -themselves. Rachel had to double and treble her orders when -the traveller came round, and it soon became quite -impossible for her and Mona to leave the shop at the same -time. -</p> - -<p> -"I find it a little difficult to do as you asked me about -reading," Mona wrote to Mr Reynolds, "for the shop-keeping -really has become hard work, calling for all one's resources; -and my cousin naturally expects me to be sociable for a couple -of hours in the evening. I keenly appreciate, however, what -you said about beginning the work leisurely, and leaving a -minimum of strain to the end; so I make it a positive duty -to read for one hour a-day, and, as a general rule, the hour -runs on to two. When my six months here are over, I will -take a short holiday, and then put myself into a regular -tread-mill till July; and I will do my very best to pass. -What you said to me that night is perfectly true. I have -read too much <i>con amore</i>, going as far afield as my fancy led -me, and neglecting the old principle of 'line upon line; -precept upon precept.' It certainly has been my experience, -that <i>wisdom</i> comes, but <i>knowledge</i> lingers; and I mean this -time, as a Glasgow professor says, to stick to a policy of -limited liability, and learn nothing that will not pay. That -is what the examiners want, and they shall not have to tell -me so a third time! -</p> - -<p> -"Forgive this bit of pique. It is an expiring flame. I -don't really cherish one atom of resentment in my heart. I -admit that I was honestly beaten by the rules of the game; -and, from the point of view of the vanquished, there is -nothing more to be said. I will try to leave no more loose ends -in my life, if I can help it, and I assure you my resolution in -this respect is being subjected to a somewhat stern test here. -</p> - -<p> -"It was very wise and very kind of you to make me talk -the whole subject out. I should not be so hard and priggish -as I am, if, like Lucy, I had had a father." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -One morning when Rachel was out, three elderly ladies -entered the shop. They were short, thick-set, sedate, -unobtrusively dignified, and at a first glance they all looked -exactly alike. At a second glance, however, certain minor -points of difference became apparent. One had black -cannon-curls on each side of her face; one wore an eyeglass; -and the third was easily differentiated by the total -absence of all means of differentiation. -</p> - -<p> -"I hear Miss Simpson has got a remarkable collection of -new things," said the one with the curls. -</p> - -<p> -"Not at all remarkable, I fear," said Mona, smiling. -"But she has got a number of fresh things from London. If -you will sit down, I will show you anything you care to -see." -</p> - -<p> -If Mona was brusque and cavalier in her treatment of her -fellow-students, nothing could exceed the gentle respect -with which she instinctively treated women older than herself. -She had that inborn sense of the privileges and rights -of age which is perhaps the rarest and most lovable attribute -of youth. -</p> - -<p> -The ladies remained for half an hour, and they spent -three-and-sixpence. -</p> - -<p> -"I think I have seen you sometimes at the Baptist Chapel," -said the one with the eyeglass, as they rose to go. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I have been there sometimes with my cousin." -</p> - -<p> -"Have you been baptised?" asked the one who had no -distinguishing feature. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh yes!" said Mona, rather taken aback by the question. -</p> - -<p> -"I notice you don't stay to the Communion," said the one -with the curls. -</p> - -<p> -"I was baptised in the Church of England." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh!" said all three at once, in a tone that made Mona -feel herself an utter fraud. -</p> - -<p> -"You must have a talk with Mr Stuart," said the one -with the eyeglass, recovering herself first. Every one agreed -that she was the "cliverest" of the sisters. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," said the others, catching eagerly at a method of -reconciling Christian charity and fidelity to principle; and, -with enquiries after Miss Simpson, they left the shop. -</p> - -<p> -"It would be the Miss Bonthrons," said Rachel, when she -heard Mona's description of the new customers. "They are -a great deal looked up to in Kirkstoun. Their father was -senior deacon in the Baptist Chapel for years, and the pulpit -was all draped with black when he died. He has left them -very well provided for, too." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Meanwhile Matilda Cookson had found an object in life, -and was happy. It was well for her that her enthusiastic -devotion to Mona was weighted by the ballast of conscientious -work, or her last state might have been worse than her -first. As it was, she laboured hard, and when her family -enquired the cause of her sudden fit of diligence, she took a -pride in looking severely mysterious. Miss Maclean was a -princess in disguise, and she was the sole custodian of the -great secret. The constant effort to refrain from confiding -it, even to her sister, was, in its way, as valuable a bit of -moral discipline as was the laborious translation of the -<i>Geier-Wally</i>. -</p> - -<p> -"I would have come sooner," she said one day to Mona -at Castle Maclean, "but my people can't see why I want to -walk on the beach at this time of year, and it is so -difficult to get rid of Clarinda. Of course if they knew you -were Lady Munro's niece they would be only too glad that -I should meet you anywhere, but I have not breathed a -syllable of that." -</p> - -<p> -She spoke with pardonable pride. She had not yet learned -to spare Mona's feelings, and the latter sighed involuntarily. -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you," she said; "but I don't want you to meet -me 'on the sly.'" -</p> - -<p> -"I thought of that. Mother would not be at all pleased -at my getting to know you as things are, or as she thinks -they are; but if there was a row, and she found out that -you were Lady Munro's niece, she would more than forgive -me. You will tell people who you are some time, won't you?" -</p> - -<p> -For, after all, in what respect is a princess in disguise -better than other people, if the story has no <i>dénouement</i>? -</p> - -<p> -"I wish very much," said Mona patiently, "that you -would try to see the matter from my point of view. I have -taken no pains to prevent people from finding out who my -other relatives are; but, as a matter of personal taste, I -prefer that they should not talk of it. Besides, it is just as -unpleasant to me to be labelled Lady Munro's niece, as to -be labelled Miss Simpson's cousin. People who really care -for me, care for myself." -</p> - -<p> -Matilda had been straining her eyes in the direction of -"yonder shining light," and she certainly thought she saw -it. The difficulty was to keep it in view when she was -talking to her mother or Clarinda. -</p> - -<p> -"You know I care for you yourself," she said. "I don't -think I ever cared for anybody so much in my life." -</p> - -<p> -"Hush-sh! It is not wise to talk like that when you -know me so little. If the scale turns, you will hate me all -the more because you speak so strongly now." -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Hate you!</i>" laughed Matilda, with the sublime -confidence of eighteen. -</p> - -<p> -"How goes <i>Geier-Wally</i>?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona had a decided gift for teaching, and the next half-hour -passed pleasantly for both of them. Then, in a very -shamefaced way, Matilda drew a letter from her pocket. -"I wanted to tell you," she said, "I have been writing -to—to—my friend." -</p> - -<p> -Her face turned crimson as she spoke. She had met -Mona several times, but this was the first reference either -of them had made to the original subject of debate. -</p> - -<p> -"Have you?" said Mona quietly. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes. Would you mind reading the letter? I should -like to know if there is anything I ought to alter." -</p> - -<p> -Mona read the letter. It was headed by a showy -crest and address-stamp, and it was without exception -the most pathetic and the most ridiculous production she -had ever seen. It was very long, and very sentimental: -it made repeated reference to "your passionate love"; -and, to Mona's horror, it wound up with the line about the -martyrs. -</p> - -<p> -However, it had one saving feature. Between the beginning -and the end, Matilda did contrive to give expression -to the conviction that she had done wrong in meeting her -correspondent, and to the determination that she never -would do it again. Compared with this everything else -mattered little. -</p> - -<p> -"Is that what you would have said?" she asked eagerly, -as Mona finished reading it. -</p> - -<p> -"It would be valueless if it were," said Mona, smiling. -"He wants your views, not mine. But in quoting that line -you are creating for yourself a lofty tradition that will not -always be easy to live up to. I speak to myself as much as -to you, for it was I who set you the example—for evil or -good. You and I burn our boats when we allow ourselves -to repeat a line like that." -</p> - -<p> -"I want to burn them," said Matilda eagerly, only half -understanding what was in Mona's mind. "I am quite sure -you have burned yours. Then you don't want me to write -it over again?" -</p> - -<p> -"No," said Mona reflectively. "You have said definitely -what you intended to say, and few girls could have done as -much under the circumstances. Moreover, you have said it -in your own way, and that is better than saying it in some -one else's way. No, I would not write it over again." -</p> - -<p> -"Thanks awfully. I am very glad you think it will do. -It is a great weight off my mind to have it done. I owe a -great deal to you, Miss Maclean." -</p> - -<p> -"I owe you a great deal," said Mona, colouring. "You -have taught me a lesson against hasty judgment. When you -came into the shop to buy blue ribbon, I certainly did not -think you capable of that amount of moral pluck," and she -glanced at the letter on Matilda's lap. -</p> - -<p> -"What you must have thought of us!" exclaimed Matilda, -blushing in her turn. "Two stuck-up, provincial—cats! -Tell me, Miss Maclean, did Dr Dudley know then—what I -know about you?" -</p> - -<p> -Matilda was progressing. She saw that Mona winced at -the unceasing reference to Lady Munro, so she attempted a -periphrasis. -</p> - -<p> -"He does not know now." -</p> - -<p> -"Then I shall like Dr Dudley as long as I live. He is -sarcastic and horrid, but he must be one of the people you -were talking of the other day who see the invisible." -</p> - -<p> -For Mona had got into the way of giving utterance to her -thoughts almost without reserve when Matilda Cookson was -with her. It was pleasant to see the look of rapt attention -on the girl's face, and Mona did not realise—or realising, -she did not care—how little her companion understood. -Mona's talk ought to have been worth listening to in those -days when her life was so destitute of companionship; but -the harvest of her thought was carried away by the winds -and the waves, and only a few stray gleanings fell into the -eager outstretched hands of Matilda Cookson. Yet the girl -was developing, as plants develop on a warm damp day in -spring, and Mona was unspeakably grateful to her. The -Colonel's story had not interfered with Mona's determination -to "take up each day with both hands, and live it with all -her might;" but it certainly had not made it any easier to -see the ideal in the actual. Here, however, was one little -human soul who clung to her, depended on her, learnt from -her; and it would have been difficult to determine on which -side the balance of benefit really lay. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap30"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXX. -<br /><br /> -MR STUART'S TROUBLES. -</h3> - -<p> -Very slowly the days and weeks went by, but at last the -end of November drew near. The coast was bleak and cold -now, and it was only on exceptionally fine days that Mona -could spend a quiet hour at Castle Maclean. When she -escaped from the shop she went for a scramble along the -coast; and when physical exercise was insufficient to drive -away the cobwebs, she walked out to the Colonel's wood -to see old Jenny, or, farther still, beyond Kilwinnie to have -a chat with Auntie Bell. -</p> - -<p> -With the latter she struck up quite a cordial friendship, -and she had the doubtful satisfaction of hearing the Colonel's -yarn corroborated in Auntie Bell's quaint language. -</p> - -<p> -"Rachel's queer, ye ken," said Auntie Bell, as Mona took -her farewell in the exquisitely kept, old-fashioned garden. -"She's a' for the kirk and the prayer-meetin'; an' yet she's -aye that keen tae forgather wi' her betters." -</p> - -<p> -"She wants to make the best of both worlds, I suppose," -said Mona. "Poor soul! I am afraid she has not succeeded -very well as regards this one." -</p> - -<p> -"Na," said Auntie Bell tersely. "An' between wersels, -I hae ma doots o' the ither." -</p> - -<p> -Mona laughed. It was curious how she and Auntie Bell -touched hands across all the oceans that lay between them. -</p> - -<p> -"Are ye muckle ta'en up wi' this 'gran' bazaar,' as they -ca' it!" -</p> - -<p> -"Not a bit," said Mona; "I hate bazaars." -</p> - -<p> -"Eh, but we're o' ae mind there!" and Auntie Bell -clapped her hands with sufficient emphasis to start an -upward rush of crows from the field beyond the hedge. -</p> - -<p> -Nearly half the county at this time was talking of one -thing and of only one—the approaching bazaar at Kirkstoun. -It was almost incredible to Mona that so trifling an event -should cause so much excitement; but bazaars, like -earthquakes, vary in importance according to the part of the -world in which they occur. -</p> - -<p> -And this was no sale for church or chapel, at which the -men could pretend to sneer, and which a good burgher might -consistently refuse to attend; it was essentially the bazaar -of the stronger sex—except in so far as the weaker sex did -all the work in connection with; it was for no less an object -than the new town hall. -</p> - -<p> -For many years the inhabitants of Kirkstoun had felt -that their town hall was a petty, insignificant building, out -of all proportion to the size and importance of the burgh; -and after much deliberation they had decided on the bold -step of erecting a new building, and of looking mainly to -Providence—spelt with a capital, of course—for the funds. -</p> - -<p> -All this, however, was now rapidly becoming a matter of -ancient history; the edifice had been complete for some -time; about one-third of the expense had been defrayed; -and, in order that the debt might be cleared off with a clean -sweep, the ladies of the town had "kindly consented" to -hold a bazaar. -</p> - -<p> -"Man's extremity is woman's opportunity" had been the -graceful, if not original, remark of one of the local bailies; -but men are proverbially ungrateful, and this view of the -matter had not been the only one mooted. -</p> - -<p> -"Kindly consented, indeed!" one carping spirit had -growled. "Pretty consent any of you would have given if -it had not been an opportunity for dressing yourselves up -and having a ploy. Whose pockets is all the money to come -out of first or last? That's what I would like to know!" -</p> - -<p> -It is quite needless to remark that the first of these -speeches had been made on the platform, the second in -domestic privacy. -</p> - -<p> -Like wildfire the enthusiasm had spread. All through -the summer, needles had flown in and out; paint-brushes -had been flourished somewhat wildly; cupboards had been -ransacked; begging-letters had been written to friends all -over the country, and to every man who, in the memory of -the inhabitants, had left Kirkstoun to make his fortune -"abroad." -</p> - -<p> -It was very characteristic of "Kirkstoun folk" that not -many of these letters had been written in vain. Kirkstoun -men are clannish. Scatter as they may over the whole -known world, they stand together shoulder to shoulder like -a well-trained regiment. -</p> - -<p> -The bazaar was to be held for three days before Christmas, -and was to be followed by a grand ball. Was not this -excitement enough to fill the imagination of every girl for -many miles around? The matrons had a harder time of it, -as they usually have, poor souls! With them lay the solid -responsibility of getting together a sufficiency of work—and -alas for all the jealousies and heart-burnings this involved!—with -them lay the planning of ball-dresses that were to cost -less, and look better, than any one else's; with them lay the -necessity of coaxing and conciliating "your papa." -</p> - -<p> -Rachel Simpson was not a person of sufficient social -importance to be a stall-holder, or a receiver of goods; and she -certainly was not one of those women who are content to -work that others may shine, so Mona had taken little or no -interest in the projected bazaar. -</p> - -<p> -One morning, however, she received a letter from Doris -which roused her not a little. -</p> - -<p> -"Kirkstoun is somewhere near Borrowness, is it not?" -wrote her friend. "If so, I shall see you before Christmas. -Those friends of mine at St Rules, to whom you declined an -introduction, have a stall at the Town Hall bazaar, and I am -going over to assist them. It is a kind of debt, for they -helped me with my last enterprise of the kind, but I should -contrive to get out of it except for the prospect of seeing you. -</p> - -<p> -"You will come to the bazaar, of course: I should think -you would be ready for a little dissipation by that time; -and I will promise to be merciful if you will visit my stall." -</p> - -<p> -"How delightful!" was Mona's first thought; "how -disgusting!" was her second; "how utterly out of keeping -Doris will be with me and my surroundings!" was her -conclusion. "Ponies and pepper-pots do not harmonise -very well with shops and poor relations. But, fortunately, -the situation is not of my making." -</p> - -<p> -She was still meditating over the letter when Rachel came -in looking flushed and excited. -</p> - -<p> -"Mona," she said, "I have made a nice little engagement -for you. You know you say you like singing?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," said Mona, with an awful premonition of what -might be coming. -</p> - -<p> -"I met Mr Stuart on the Kirkstoun road just now. He -was that put about! Two of his best speakers for the <i>soirée</i> -to-night have fallen through, he says. Mr Roberts has got -the jaundice, and Mr Dowie has had to go to the funeral of -a friend. Mr Stuart said the whole thing would be a failure, -and he was fairly at his wits' end. You see there's no time -to do anything now. He said if he could get a song or a -recitation, or anything, it would do; so of course I told him -you were a fine singer, and I was sure you would give us a -song. You should have seen how his face brightened up. -'Capital!' said he; 'I have noticed her singing in church. -Perhaps she would give us "I know that my Redeemer -liveth," or something of that kind?'" -</p> - -<p> -"My dear cousin," said Mona, at last finding breath to -speak, "you might just as well ask me to give a performance -on the trapeze. I have never sung since I was in Germany. -It is one thing to chirp to you in the firelight, and quite -another to stand up on a public platform and perform. The -thing is utterly absurd." -</p> - -<p> -"Hoots," said Rachel, "they are not so particular. Many's -the time I have seen them pleased with worse singing than -yours." -</p> - -<p> -Then ensued the first 'stand-up fight' between the two. -As her cousin waxed hotter Mona waxed cooler, and finally -she ended the discussion by setting out to speak to Mr -Stuart herself. -</p> - -<p> -She found him in his comfortable study, his slippered -feet on the fender, and a polemico-religious novel in his -hand. -</p> - -<p> -"I am sorry to find my cousin has made an engagement -for me this evening," she said. "It is quite impossible for -me to fulfil it." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, nonsense!" he said kindly. "It is too late to -withdraw now. Your name is in the programme," and he -glanced at the neatly written paper on his writing-table, as -if it had been a legal document at the least. "My wife is -making copies of that for all the speakers. You can't draw -back now." -</p> - -<p> -"It might be too late to withdraw," said Mona, "if I had -ever put myself forward; but, although my cousin meant to -act kindly to every one concerned, she and I are two distinct -people." -</p> - -<p> -"Come, come! Of course I quite understand your feeling -a little shy, if you are not used to singing in public; but you -will be all right as soon as you begin. I remember my first -sermon—what a state I was in, to be sure! And yet they -told me it was a great success." -</p> - -<p> -"I am very sorry," said Mona. "It is not mere nervousness -and shyness—though there is that too, of course—it is -simply that I am not qualified to do it." -</p> - -<p> -"We are not very critical. There won't be more than -three persons present who know good singing from bad." -</p> - -<p> -"Unfortunately I should wish to sing for those three." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah," he said, with a curl of his lip, "you must have -appreciation. The lesson some of us have got to learn in -life, Miss Maclean, is to do without appreciation." He -paused, but her look of sudden interest was inviting. "One -is tempted sometimes to think that one could speak to so -much more purpose in a world where there is some intellectual -life, where people are not wholly blind to the problems -of the day; but to preach Sunday after Sunday to those who -have no eyes to see, no ears to hear, to suppress one's best -thoughts——" -</p> - -<p> -He stopped short. -</p> - -<p> -"It is a pity surely to do that, unless one is a prophet -indeed." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah," he said, "you cannot understand my position. It -is a singular one, unique perhaps.—You will sing for us -to-night?" -</p> - -<p> -"Mr Stuart," said Mona, struggling against the temptation -to speak sharply, "I should not have left my work to -come here in the busiest time of the day, if I had been -prepared to yield in the end. And indeed why should I? There -are plenty of people in the neighbourhood who sing as well -as I; and people who are well known have a right to claim a -little indulgence. I have none. It is not even as if I were -a member of the Chapel." -</p> - -<p> -"I hope you will be soon." -</p> - -<p> -"Well," said Mona, rising with a smile, "you have more -pressing claims on your attention at present than my -conversion to Baptist principles. Good morning." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," he said reproachfully, "I must go out in this rain, -and try to beat up a substitute for you. A country minister's -life is no sinecure, Miss Maclean; and his work is doubled -when he feels the necessity of keeping pace with the -times." He glanced at the book he had laid down. -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose so," said Mona, somewhat hypocritically. She -longed to make a very different reply, but she was glad to -escape on any terms. "I wish you all success in your -search. You will not go far before you find a fitter -makeshift than I." -</p> - -<p> -"I doubt it," he said, going with her to the door. "Did -any young lady's education ever yet fit her to do a thing -frankly and gracefully, when she was asked to do it?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona sighed. "Education is a long word, Mr Stuart," -she said. "It savours more of eternity than of time. 'So -many worlds, so much to do.' If we should meet in another -life, perhaps I shall be able to sing for you then." -</p> - -<p> -He was absolutely taken aback. What did she mean? -Was she really poaching in his preserves? It was his -privilege surely to give the conversation a religious turn, -and he did not see exactly how she had contrived to do it. -However, it was his duty to rise to the occasion, even -although the effort might involve a severe mental dislocation. -</p> - -<p> -"I hope we shall sing together there," he said, "with -crowns on our heads, and palms in our hands." -</p> - -<p> -It was Mona's turn to be taken aback. She had not -realised the effect of her unconventional remarks, when tried -by a conventional standard. -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Behüte Gott!</i>" she said as she made her way home -in the driving rain. "There are worse fates conceivable -than annihilation." -</p> - -<p> -Rachel was severely dignified all day, but she was anxious -that Mona should go with her to the <i>soirée</i>, so she was -constrained to bury the hatchet before evening. Mona -was much relieved when things had slipped back into their -wonted course. Her life was a fiasco indeed if she failed -to please Rachel Simpson. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap31"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXXI. -<br /><br /> -STRADIVARIUS. -</h3> - -<p> -The chapel doors were open, and a bright light streamed -across the gravelled enclosure on to the dreary street beyond. -People were flocking in, talking and laughing, in eager -anticipation of pleasures to come; and a number of hungry-eyed -children clung to the railing, and gazed at the promise of -good things within. -</p> - -<p> -And indeed the promise was a very palpable one. Mona -had scarcely entered the outer door when she was presented -with a large earthenware cup and saucer, a pewter spoon, -and a well-filled baker's bag. -</p> - -<p> -"What am I to do with these?" she asked, aghast. -</p> - -<p> -"Take them in with you, of course," said Rachel. "You -can look inside the bag, but you mustn't eat anything till -the interval." -</p> - -<p> -Mona thought she could so far control her curiosity as to -await the appointed time, but her strength of mind was not -subjected to this test. A considerable proportion of the -assembled congregation were children, and most of them -were engaged in laying out cakes, sweet biscuits, apples, -pears, figs, almonds, and raisins, in a tempting row on the -book-board, somewhat to the detriment of the subjacent -hymn-books. -</p> - -<p> -"They ordered three hundred bags at threepence each," -said Rachel, in a loud whisper. "It's wonderful how much -you get for the money; and they say Mr Philip makes a -pretty profit out of it too. I suppose it's the number makes -it pay. The cake's plain, to be sure; I always think it -would be better if it were richer, and less of it. But there's -the children to think of, of course." -</p> - -<p> -At this moment a loud report echoed through the church. -Mona started, and had vague thoughts of gunpowder plots, -but the explosion was only the work of an adventurous boy, -who had tied up his sweets in a handkerchief of doubtful -antecedents, that he might have the satisfaction of blowing -up and bursting his bag. This feat was pretty frequently -repeated in the course of the evening, in spite of all the -moral and physical influence brought to bear on the offenders -by Mr Stuart and the parents respectively. -</p> - -<p> -The chapel was intensely warm when the speakers took -their places on the platform, and Mona fervently hoped that -Mr Stuart had failed to find a stopgap, as the programme -was already of portentous length. It seemed impossible -that she could sit out the evening in such an atmosphere, -and still more impossible that the bloodless, neurotic girl in -front of her should do so. -</p> - -<p> -The first speaker was introduced by the chairman. -</p> - -<p> -"Now for the moral windbags!" thought Mona resignedly. -</p> - -<p> -She felt herself decidedly snubbed, however, when the -speeches were in full swing. The gift of speaking successfully -at a <i>soirée</i> is soon recognised in the world where <i>soirées</i> -prevail, and the man who possesses it acquires a celebrity -often extending beyond his own county. One or two of the -speakers were men possessing both wit and humour, of a -good Scotch brand; and the others made up for their deficiencies -in this respect by a clever and laborious patchwork of -anecdotes and repartees, which, in the excitement of the -moment, could scarcely be distinguished from the genuine -mantle of happy inspiration. -</p> - -<p> -In the midst of one of the speeches a disturbance arose. -The girl in front of Mona had fainted. Several men -carried her out, shyly and clumsily, in the midst of a great -commotion; and, after a moment's hesitation, Mona followed -them. She was glad she had done so, for fainting-fits -were rare on that breezy coast, and no one else seemed -to know what to do. Meanwhile the unfortunate girl was -being held upright in the midst of a small crowd of -spectators. -</p> - -<p> -"Lay her down on the matting," said Mona quietly, -"and stand back, please, all of you. No, she wants nothing -under her head. One of you might fetch some water—and -a little whisky, if it is at hand. It is nothing serious, Mrs -Brander and I can do all that is required." -</p> - -<p> -All the men started off for water at once, much to Mona's -relief. She loosened the girl's dress, while the matron -produced smelling-salts, and in a few minutes the patient opened -her eyes, with a deep sigh. -</p> - -<p> -"Surely Kirkstoun is not her home," said Mona, looking -at the girl's face. "Sea-breezes have not had much to do -with the making of her." -</p> - -<p> -"Na," said the matron. "She's a puir weed. She's -visiting her gran'faither across the street. I'll tak' her -hame." -</p> - -<p> -"No, no," said Mona. "Go back to the <i>soirée</i>, I'll look -after her." -</p> - -<p> -"Ye'll miss your tea! They're takin' roun' the teapits -the noo." -</p> - -<p> -"I have had tea, thank you," and, putting a strong arm -round the girl's waist, Mona walked home with her, and saw -her safely into bed. -</p> - -<p> -She hurried back to the chapel, for she knew Rachel -would be fretting about her; but the night breeze was cold -and fresh, and she dreaded returning to that heated, impure -air. When she entered the door, however, she scarcely -noticed the atmosphere, for the laughing and fidgeting had -given place to an intense stillness, broken only by one rich -musical voice. -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "So my eye and hand,<br /> - And inward sense that works along with both,<br /> - Have hunger that can never feed on coin."<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -Mr Stuart's stopgap was filling his part of the programme. -</p> - -<p> -Mona hesitated at the door, and then quietly resumed her -place at the end of the pew beside Rachel. The reader -paused for a moment till she was seated, a scarcely perceptible -shade of expression passed over his face, as her silk -gown rustled softly up the aisle, and then he went on. -</p> - -<p> -It was a curious poem to read to such an audience, but -even the boys and girls forgot their almonds and raisins as -they listened to the beautiful voice. For Mona, the low -ceiling, the moist walls, and the general air of smug squalor -vanished like a dissolving view. In their place the infinite -blue of an Italian sky rose above her head, the soft warm -breeze of the south was on her cheek; and she stood in -the narrow picturesque street listening to the "plain -white-aproned man," with the light of the eternal in his eyes. -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "'Tis God gives skill,<br /> - But not without men's hands: He could not make<br /> - Antonio Stradivari's violins<br /> - Without Antonio. Get thee to thy easel."<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -It was over. There was a long breath, and a general -movement in the chapel. Dudley took an obscure seat at -the back of the platform, shaded his eyes with his hand, and -looked at Mona. -</p> - -<p> -Again and again in London he had told himself that it -was all illusion, that he had exaggerated the nobility of her -face, the sensitiveness of her mouth, the subtle air of -distinction about her whole appearance; and now he knew that he -had exaggerated nothing. His eye wandered round the -congregation, and came back to her with a sensation of infinite -rest. Then his pulse began to beat more quickly. He was -excited, perhaps, by the way in which that uncultured -audience had sat spellbound by his voice, for at that moment it -seemed to him that he would give a great deal to call up the -love-light in those eloquent eyes. -</p> - -<p> -"She is a girl," he thought, with quick intuition. "She -has never loved, and no doubt she believes she never will. I -envy the man who forces her to own her mistake. She is -no sweet white daisy to whom any man's touch is sunshine. -There are depths of expression in that face that have never -yet been stirred. Happy man who is the first—perhaps the -only one—to see them! He will have a long account to -settle with Fortune." -</p> - -<p> -And then Dudley pulled himself up short. Thoughts like -these would not lead to success in his examination. And -even if they would, what right had he to think them? Till -his Intermediate was over in July, he must speak to no -woman of love; and not until his Final lay behind him -had he any right to think of marriage. And any day while -he was far away in London the man might come—the man -with the golden key—— -</p> - -<p> -Dudley turned and bowed to the speaker in considerable -confusion. Some graceful reference had evidently been -made to his reading, for there was a momentary pause in -the vague droning that had accompanied his day-dreams, -and every one was looking at him with a cordial smile. -</p> - -<p> -"Who would have thought of Dr Dudley being here?" -said Rachel, as the cousins walked home. "It is a great -pity his being so short-sighted; he looks so much nicer -without his spectacles. I wonder if he remembers what -good friends we were that day at St Rules?—I declare I -believe that's him behind us now." -</p> - -<p> -She was right, and he was accompanied by no less a -person than the Baptist minister. -</p> - -<p> -"I would ask you to walk out and have a bachelor's -supper with me, Stuart, by way of getting a little pure air -into your lungs," Dudley had said, as he threw on his heavy -Inverness cape; "but it is a far cry, and I suppose you -have a guest at your house to-night." -</p> - -<p> -The minister had accepted with alacrity. He was tired, -to be sure, but he would gladly have walked ten miles for -the sake of a conversation with one of his "intellectual -peers." -</p> - -<p> -"I have no guest," he had said eagerly; "it was my -man who failed me. I would ask you to come home -with me, but there are things we cannot talk of before -my wife. 'Leave thou thy sister,'—you know." -</p> - -<p> -A faint smile had flitted over Dudley's face at the -thought of Mr Stuart's "purer air." -</p> - -<p> -So they set out, and in due course they overtook Rachel -and Mona. -</p> - -<p> -Mr Stuart could scarcely believe his eyes when he saw -Dr Dudley actually slackening his pace to walk with them. -It was right and Christian to be courteous, no doubt, -but this was so utterly uncalled for. -</p> - -<p> -Dudley did not seem to think so, however. He -exchanged a few pleasant words with Rachel, and then, -regardless alike of her delight and of the minister's -irritation, he very simply and naturally walked on with Mona -in advance of the other two. -</p> - -<p> -Many a time, when hundreds of miles had separated -them, Mona and Dudley had in imagination talked to -each other frankly and simply; but, now that they were -together, they both became suddenly shy and timid. What -were their mutual relations? Were they old friends, or -mere acquaintances? Neither knew. -</p> - -<p> -The silence became awkward. -</p> - -<p> -"Your reading was a great treat," said Mona, somewhat -formally at last. -</p> - -<p> -Anybody could have told him that. He wanted something -more from her. -</p> - -<p> -"I am glad if it did not bore you," he said coldly. -</p> - -<p> -She looked up. They were just leaving the last of the -Kirkstoun street-lamps behind them, but in the uncertain -light they exchanged a smile. That did more for them -than many words. -</p> - -<p> -"It is not poetry of course," he said. "It is only a -magnificent instance of what my shaggy old Edinburgh -professor would call 'metrical intellection.'" -</p> - -<p> -"And yet, surely, in a broader sense, it is poetry. It -seems to me that that magnificent 'genius of morality' -produces art of a kind peculiarly its own. It is not -cleverness; it is inspiration—though it is not 'poesie.' In any -case, you made it poetry for me. I saw the sunny, glowing -street, and the blue sky overhead." -</p> - -<p> -"Did you?" he said eagerly. "Truly? I am so glad. -I had such a vivid mental picture of it myself, that I -thought the brain-waves must carry it to some one. It is -very dark here. Won't you take my arm?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, thank you; I am well used to this road in the dark. -By the way, I must apologise for disturbing your reading. -I would have remained at the door, but I was afraid some -man would offer me his seat, and that we should between -us kick the foot-board and knock down a few hymn-books -before we settled the matter." -</p> - -<p> -"I was so relieved when you came forward and took your -own place," he said slowly, as though he were determined -that she should not take the words for an idle compliment -"I had been watching that vacant corner beside Miss -Simpson. How is Castle Maclean?" -</p> - -<p> -"It is pretty well delivered over to the sea-gulls at -present. I am afraid it must be admitted that Castle -Maclean is more suited to a summer than to a winter -residence. I often run down there, but these east winds -are not suggestive of lounging." -</p> - -<p> -"Not much," he said. "When I picture you there, it is -always summer." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh," said Mona suddenly, "there is one thing that -I must tell you. You remember a conversation we had -about the Cooksons?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"Matilda and I are great friends now, and I have had -good reason to be ashamed of my original attitude towards -her. I think it was you who put me right." -</p> - -<p> -"Indeed it was not," he said warmly. "I, forsooth! -You put yourself right—if you were ever wrong." -</p> - -<p> -"I was wrong. And you—well, you took too high an -estimate of me, and that is the surest way of putting people -right. You have no idea how much good stuff there -is in that child. She is becoming quite a German scholar; -and she has read <i>Sesame and Lilies</i>, has been much struck -by that quotation from Coventry Patmore, and at the -present moment is deep in <i>Heroes</i>. What do you say to -that?" -</p> - -<p> -"Score!" he said quietly. "How did she come to know -you?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, by one of the strange little accidents of life. She -has done me a lot of good, too. She is very warm-hearted -and impressionable." -</p> - -<p> -There was a lull in the conversation. Across the bare -fields came the distant roar of the sea. They were still -nearly half a mile from home, and a great longing came -upon Mona to tell him about her medical studies. Why had -she been such an idiot as to make that promise; and, having -made it, why had she never asked her cousin to release her -from it? She drew a long breath. -</p> - -<p> -"My dear," said Rachel's voice behind them, "Mr Stuart -wants to have a little conversation with you. Well, doctor, -I hope Mistress Hamilton is not worse, that you are here -just now?" -</p> - -<p> -Mr Stuart's wrongs were avenged. -</p> - -<p> -For one moment Dudley thought of protesting, but the -exchange of partners was already effected, and he was forced -to submit. -</p> - -<p> -"Our conversation was left unfinished this morning, Miss -Maclean," said the minister. -</p> - -<p> -"Was it? I thought we had discussed the subject in all -its bearings. You are to be congratulated on the substitute -you found." -</p> - -<p> -"Am I not?" he answered warmly. "It was all by -accident, too, that I met the doctor, and he was very -unwilling to come. He had just run down for one day -to settle a little business matter for his aunt; but I put him -near the end of the programme, so that he might not have -to leave the house till near Mrs Hamilton's bedtime." -</p> - -<p> -For one day! For one day! -</p> - -<p> -The minister sighed. Miss Simpson had left him no -choice about "speaking to" her cousin; but he did not feel -equal to an encounter to-night; and certainly he could -scarcely have found Mona in a less approachable mood. -</p> - -<p> -"You are not a Baptist, Miss Maclean?" -</p> - -<p> -"No." -</p> - -<p> -"Have you studied the subject at all?" -</p> - -<p> -"The Gospels are not altogether unfamiliar ground to -me;" but her tone was much less aggressive than her -words. -</p> - -<p> -"And to what conclusion do they bring you?" -</p> - -<p> -"I think there is a great deal to be said in favour of the -Baptist view; but, Mr Stuart, it all seems to me a matter of -so little importance. Surely it is the existence, not the -profession, of faith that redeems the world; and the precise -mode of profession is of less importance still." -</p> - -<p> -"Do you realise what you are saying?" Mr Stuart began -to forget his fatigue. "God has declared that one 'mode of -profession,' as you call it, is in accordance with His will, but -you pay no heed, because your finite reason tells you that it -is of so little importance." -</p> - -<p> -"It is God who is responsible for my finite reason, not I," -said Mona; and then the thought of where this conversation -must lead, and the uselessness of it, overwhelmed her. -</p> - -<p> -Her voice softened. "Mr Stuart," she said, "it is very -kind of you to care what I think and believe—to-night, too, -of all times, when you must be so tired after that 'function.' I -believe it is a help to some people to talk, but I don't think -it is even right for me—at least at present. When I begin -to formulate things, I seem to lose the substance in the -shadow; I get interested in the argument for the argument's -sake. Believe me, I am not living a thoughtless life." -</p> - -<p> -Mr Stuart was impressed by her earnestness in spite of -himself. "But, my dear young lady, is it wise, is it safe, -to leave things so vague, to have nothing definite to lean -upon?" -</p> - -<p> -"I think so; if one tries to do right." -</p> - -<p> -"It is all very well while you are young, and life seems -long; but trouble will come, and sickness, and death——" -</p> - -<p> -Rachel and Dudley had reached the gate of Carlton Lodge, -and were waiting for the other two. But Mr Stuart did not -think it necessary to break off, or even to lower his voice. -</p> - -<p> -"——and when the hour of your need comes, and you can -no longer grapple with great thoughts, will you not long for -a definite word, a text——?" -</p> - -<p> -Dudley's face was a picture. Mona underwent a quick -revulsion of feeling. How dared any one speak to her -publicly like that! She answered lightly, however, too -lightly— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "'Denn, was man schwarz auf weiss besitzt,<br /> - Kann man getrost nach Hause tragen'"!<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Of course she knew that Dr Dudley alone would understand, -and of course Dudley keenly appreciated the apt -quotation. -</p> - -<p> -"Holloa, Stuart!" he said, "you seem to be figuring in a -new and alarming <i>rôle</i>. I am half afraid to go in with you. -I wish you could come and join in our discussion, Miss -Maclean. 'Nineteenth Century Heretics' is our topic. -Stuart takes the liberal side, I the conservative." -</p> - -<p> -"Do you think it expedient," said the minister reproachfully, -as the two men crunched the gravel of the carriage-drive -beneath their feet, "to talk in that flippant way to -women on deep subjects?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, Miss Maclean is all right! She could knock you -and me into a cocked-hat any day." -</p> - -<p> -And he believed what he said—at least so far as the -minister was concerned. -</p> - -<p> -"She really is very intelligent," admitted Mr Stuart. "I -quite miss her face when she is not at church on Sunday -morning; but you know she does put herself forward a little. -What made her go out after that fainting girl, when so many -older women were present? Oh, I forgot, you had not -arrived——" -</p> - -<p> -"It was well for the fainting girl that she did," interrupted -Dudley calmly. "When I was going to the vestry some one -rushed frantically against me, and told me a woman had -fainted. I arrived on the scene a moment after Miss Maclean, -but fortunately she did not see me. By Jingo, Stuart, that -girl can rise to an occasion! If ever your chapel is crowded, -and takes fire, you may pray that Miss Maclean may be one -of the congregation." -</p> - -<p> -It gave him a curious pleasure to talk like this, but he -would not have trusted himself to say so much, had it not -been for the friendly darkness, and the noise of the gravel -beneath their feet. -</p> - -<p> -Mr Stuart suspected nothing. Dr Dudley and Rachel -Simpson's cousin! People would have been very slow to -link their names. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, she is very intelligent," he repeated. "I must try -to find time to have some more talks with her." -</p> - -<p> -"I wish you joy of them!" thought Dudley. "I should -like to know how you tackle a case like that, Stuart," he -said. "Tell me what you said to her, and what she said to -you." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap32"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXXII. -<br /><br /> -CHUMS. -</h3> - -<p> -Action and reaction are equal and opposite. -</p> - -<p> -Dudley was back in his den in London. For the first day -after his return, he had thought of nothing but Mona; her -face had come between him and everything he did. Now it -was bending, grave and motherly, over the fainting girl, now -it was sparkling with mischief at the quotation from <i>Faust</i>, -now it vibrated to the words of <i>Stradivarius</i>, and now—oftenest -of all—it looked up at him in the dim lamplight, with -that enquiring, inexplicable smile, half friendly, half defiant. -</p> - -<p> -And the evening and the morning were the first day. -</p> - -<p> -But now the second day had come, and Dudley was -thinking—of Rachel Simpson. -</p> - -<p> -He pushed aside his books, and tramped up and down the -room. How came she there, his exquisite fern, in that -hideous dungeon? And was she indeed so fair? Removed -from those surroundings, would she begin for the first time -to show the taint she had acquired? In the drawing-room, -at the dinner-table, in a <i>solitude à deux</i>, what if one should see -in her a suggestion of—Rachel Simpson? -</p> - -<p> -And then Mona's face came back once more, pure, -high-souled, virgin; without desire or thought for love and -marriage. There was not the faintest ruby streak on the -bud, and yet, and yet—what if he were the man to call it -forth? Why had she refused his arm? It would have been -pleasant to feel the touch of that strong, self-reliant little -hand. It would be pleasant to feel it now—— -</p> - -<p> -There was a knock at the door, and a fair-haired, -merry-eyed young man came in. -</p> - -<p> -"Holloa, Melville!" said Dudley. "Off duty?" -</p> - -<p> -"Ay; Johnston and I have swopped nights this week." -</p> - -<p> -"Anything special on at the hospital?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, nothing since I saw you. That Viking is not going -to pull through, after all." -</p> - -<p> -"You don't mean it!" -</p> - -<p> -"Fact. I believe that bed is unlucky. This is the third -case that has died in it. All pneumonia, too." -</p> - -<p> -"I believe pneumonia cases ought to be isolated," -</p> - -<p> -"I know you have a strong theory to that effect. I did -an external strabismus to-day." -</p> - -<p> -"Successful?" -</p> - -<p> -"I think so. I kept my hair on. By the way, you -remember that duffer Lawson?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"He has hooked an heiress—older than himself, but not -so bad-looking. He will have a practice in no time now. -I met him bowling along in his carriage, and there was I -trudging through the mud! It's the irony of fate, upon my -soul!" -</p> - -<p> -"True," said Dudley; "but you know, when we have all -the intellect, and all the heart, and all the culture, we don't -need to grudge him his carriage." -</p> - -<p> -"I'll shy something at you, Ralph! And now I want -your news. How is the way?" -</p> - -<p> -"Thorny." -</p> - -<p> -"And the prospect of the anatomy medal?" -</p> - -<p> -"Dim. But what are medals to an 'aged, aged man' -like me?" -</p> - -<p> -"You are hipped to-night. What's up?" -</p> - -<p> -Dudley did not reply at once. He was intensely reserved, -as a rule, about his private affairs, but a curious impulse -was upon him now to contradict his own character. -</p> - -<p> -"You and I have been chums for twenty years, more or -less, Jack," he said irrelevantly. -</p> - -<p> -"True, O king! Well?" -</p> - -<p> -"I want to ask your advice on an abstract case." -</p> - -<p> -"Do you? Fire away! I am a dab at medical etiquette." Dudley -had been paying a few professional visits for a -friend. -</p> - -<p> -"It is not a question of medical etiquette," he said testily. -"Suppose," he drew a long breath—"suppose you knew a -young girl——" -</p> - -<p> -"Ah! My dear fellow, I never do know a young girl! -It is the greatest mistake in the world." -</p> - -<p> -"Suppose," went on Dudley, unheeding, "that physically, -mentally, and morally, she was about as near perfection as -a human being can be." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, <i>of course</i>!" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't ask your opinion as to the probability of it. I -don't say I know such a person. Man alive! can't you -suppose an abstract case?" -</p> - -<p> -"It is a large order, but I am doing my level best." -</p> - -<p> -"Suppose that, so far as she was concerned, it was simply -all over with you." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, that is easy enough. Well?" -</p> - -<p> -"Would you marry her, if——" -</p> - -<p> -"Alack, it had to come! Yes. If——?" -</p> - -<p> -"If she was a—a tremendous contrast to her people?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, <i>that</i> is it, is it?" Melville sprang to his feet, and -spoke very emphatically. "No, my dear fellow, upon my -soul, I would not! They grow into their heredity with all -the certainty of fate. I would rather marry a <i>gauche</i> and -unattractive girl because her mother was charming." -</p> - -<p> -This was rather beside the point, but it depressed Dudley, -and he sighed. -</p> - -<p> -"But suppose—one has either to rave or make use of -conventional expressions—suppose she was infinitely bright, and -attractive, and womanly?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, they are all that, you know." -</p> - -<p> -"If you knew her——" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, of course. That goes without saying. Now we -come back to the point we started from. As I told you -before, I never do know them, and it keeps me out of a world -of mischief." -</p> - -<p> -Melville seated himself by the fire, and buried his hands -in his curly hair. -</p> - -<p> -"Ralph, while we are at it," he said, "I want to give you -a word of advice. <i>Verb. sap.</i>, you know. If any man knows -you, I am that man. As you were remarking, you have -lain on my dissecting-board for twenty years." -</p> - -<p> -"I wish you had done me under water. You would have -made a neater thing of it." -</p> - -<p> -"So I would, old fellow, but you were too big. The -difficulty was to get you into my mental laboratory at -all." -</p> - -<p> -Dudley bowed. -</p> - -<p> -"Don't bow. It was well earned. You fished for it -uncommon neatly. But you know, Ralph, I am serious now. -Let me say it for once—you are awfully fastidious, awfully -sensitive, awfully over-cultured. Few women could please -you. It matters little whether you marry a good woman or -a bad,—I don't know that there is much difference between -them myself; the saints and the sinners get jumbled -somehow,—but you must marry a woman of the world. Gretchen -would be awfully irresistible, I know—for a month; she -would not wear. Marry a woman full of surprises, a woman -who does not take all her colour from you, a woman who -can keep you dangling, as it were." -</p> - -<p> -"It sounds restful." -</p> - -<p> -Melville laughed. "Restful or not, that's the woman for -you, Ralph. You are not equal to an hour at the Pavilion, -I suppose? Well, ta-ta." -</p> - -<p> -Dudley sat in silence till the echo of his friend's steps on -the pavement had died away. Then he rose and tramped -up and down the room again. -</p> - -<p> -"After all, Miss Simpson is only her cousin," he said. -"If I routed about I might find some rather shady cousins -myself. But then I don't live with them. If her parents -were a decided cut above that, how comes she there? And -being there, how can she have escaped contamination? I -wonder what Miss Simpson's dinner-table is like? Ugh! -Is it as squalid as the shop? And why is the shop so -squalid? Does Miss Simpson allow no interference in her -domain? And yet I cannot conceive of Miss Maclean being -out of place at a duchess's table." -</p> - -<p> -He dropped into a chair, clasped his hands behind his -head, and spoke aloud almost indignantly in his perplexity. -</p> - -<p> -"How can a provincial shop-girl be a woman of the world? -And yet, upon my soul! Miss Maclean seems to me to come -nearer Melville's description than any woman I ever knew. -Alack-a-day! I must be besotted indeed. Oh, damn that -examination!" -</p> - -<p> -Ralph returned to his books, however, and tried hard to -shut out all farther thoughts of Mona that night. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap33"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXXIII. -<br /><br /> -CARBOLIC! -</h3> - -<p> -"Holloa, Jones! going home?" -</p> - -<p> -"I am going to lunch; I may be back in the afternoon." -</p> - -<p> -"Please yourself, my dear fellow, but if you don't finish -that axilla to-day, I shall be under the painful necessity of -reflecting the pectorals, and proceeding with the thorax, at -9 A.M. to-morrow." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I say, Dudley, that is too bad." -</p> - -<p> -"I fail to see it. You have had one day too long as -it is." -</p> - -<p> -"But you know I did cut my finger." -</p> - -<p> -"H'm. I have not just the profoundest faith in that cut -finger. You know it <i>did</i> happen on the day of the -football-match." -</p> - -<p> -The boy laughed. "And Collett will never manage that -sole of the foot without you," he said. -</p> - -<p> -"Collett must." Dudley smiled up at the eager face that -was bending over his dissection. "I only undertook to find -the cutaneous branch of the internal plantar," and he lifted -the nerve affectionately on the handle of his scalpel. "Come, -Jones, fire away. <i>Ce n'est pas la mer à boire</i>. Half an hour -will do it." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I say! It would take me four hours. You know, -Dudley, there is such a lot of reading on the axilla. I am -all in a muddle as it is. I'll sit up half the night reading -it, if you will give me another day." -</p> - -<p> -"Very sorry, old man. <i>Ars longa</i>. I must get on with -my thorax. It will do you far more good to read in the -dissecting-room. Preconceived ideas are a mistake. Get a -good lunch, and come back. That's your scalpel, I think, -Collett." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, bother! I only wish I had ideas of any kind! I -wish to goodness somebody would demonstrate the whole -thing to me, and finish the dissection as he goes along!" -</p> - -<p> -"I will do that with pleasure, if you like, to-morrow. -The gain will be mine—and perhaps it will be the best -thing you can do now. But don't play that little game too -often, if you mean to be an anatomist." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't," cried the boy vehemently. "I wish to heaven -I need never see this filthy old hole again!" -</p> - -<p> -Dudley glanced round the fine airy room, as he stood with -his hands under the tap. -</p> - -<p> -"I know that feeling well," he said. -</p> - -<p> -"You, Dudley! Why, somebody said the other day that -the very dust of the dissecting-room was dear to you." -</p> - -<p> -"So it is, I think," said Ralph, smiling. "But it was -very different in the days when I stroked the nettle in the -gingerly fashion you are doing now." -</p> - -<p> -"You mean that you think I should like it better if I -really tucked into it," said the boy ruefully. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't think at all; I know. 9 A.M. to-morrow sharp, -then." -</p> - -<p> -Dudley stepped out briskly into the raw damp air. The -mud was thick under foot, and the whole aspect of the world -was depressing to the hard-worked student. One by one -the familiar furrows took possession of his brow, and his -step slackened gradually, till it kept pace with the dead -march of his thoughts. He was within a stone's-throw of -his rooms, when a dashing mail-phaeton came up behind -him. A good horse was always a source of pleasure to him, -and he noted, point by point, the beauties of the two fine -bays, which, bespattered with foam, were chafing angrily at -the delay caused by some block in the street. Suddenly -Ralph bethought himself of Melville's story about the "irony -of fate," and he glanced with amused curiosity at the -occupant of the carriage. -</p> - -<p> -There was no irony here. The reins lay firmly but easily -in the hands of a man who was well in keeping with the -horses,—fine-looking, of military bearing, with ruddy face, -and curly white hair. He, too, seemed annoyed at the -block, for there was a heavy frown on his brow. -</p> - -<p> -At last the offending cart turned down a side-street, and -the bays dashed on. Immediately in front of them was a -swift heavy dray, and behind it, as is the fashion among -gamins, sublimely regardless of all the dangers of his -position, hung a very small boy. The dray stopped for a -moment, then suddenly lumbered on, and before either -Dudley or the driver of the phaeton had noticed the child, -he had fallen from his precarious perch, and lay under the -hoofs of the bays. -</p> - -<p> -With one tremendous pull the phaeton was brought to a -standstill, while Dudley and the groom rushed forward to -extricate the child. -</p> - -<p> -"I think he is more frightened than hurt," said Ralph, -"but my rooms are close at hand. If you like, I will take -him in and examine him carefully. I am a doctor." -</p> - -<p> -"Upon my soul, I am very much obliged to you! I am -leaving town for the Riviera to-night, and it would be -confoundedly awkward to be detained by a business of this -kind. Step up, will you? Charles will hand up the child -after you are in." -</p> - -<p> -The boy lay half stunned, drawing little sobbing breaths. -When they reached the house, Dudley handed the latch-key -to his companion, and, raising the boy in his strong arms, he -carried him up the steps. -</p> - -<p> -"Bless me, you are as good as a woman!" said the man -of the world, in amused admiration, as he opened the door. -"It was uncommonly lucky for me that you happened to be -passing." -</p> - -<p> -Dudley showed his new acquaintance into his snuggery, -while he examined the boy. The snuggery was a room -worth seeing. There was nothing showy or striking about -it, but every picture, every book, every bit of pottery, had -been lovingly and carefully chosen, and the <i>tout ensemble</i> -spoke well for the owner of the room. -</p> - -<p> -"A man of culture clearly," said the visitor, after making -a leisurely survey; "and what a life for him, by -Gad!—examining dirty little <i>gamins</i>! He can't be poor. What -the deuce does he do it for?" -</p> - -<p> -"He is all right," said Dudley emphatically, re-entering -the room. "He has been much interested in my manikin, -and at the present moment is tucking vigorously into -bread-and-marmalade. I have assured him that ninety-nine drivers -out of a hundred would have gone right over him. You -certainly are to be congratulated on the way you pulled -those horses up." -</p> - -<p> -"Do you think so? I am very glad to hear it. Gad! I -thought myself it was all over with the little chap. The -fact is—it is a fine state of affairs if I can't manage a horse -at my time of life; but I confess my thoughts were pretty -far afield at the moment. It is most annoying. I have -taken my berth on the Club Train for this afternoon, and I -find I shall have to go without seeing my niece. I wrote to -make an appointment, but it seems she has left her former -rooms. By the way, you are a doctor. Do you happen to -know any of the lady medical students?" -</p> - -<p> -Dudley shook his head. "I am sorry I have not that -honour," he said. -</p> - -<p> -His visitor laughed harshly. -</p> - -<p> -"You don't believe in all that, eh?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I don't say that. I am very far from being conservative -on the subject of women's work. I am inclined on -the whole to think that women have souls, and, that being -so, and the age of brute force being past, it is to my mind a -natural corollary that they should choose their own work." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't see that at all, sir. I don't see that at all," said -the elderly gentleman, throwing himself into a chair, and -talking very warmly. "Souls! What have souls got to do -with it, I should like to know? Can they do it without -becoming blunted? That is the question." -</p> - -<p> -"I confess I think it is a strange life for a woman to -choose, but I know one or two women—one certainly—who -would make far better doctors than I ever shall." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, they are a necessity! Mind, sir, I believe women-doctors -are a necessity; so it is a mercy they want to do it; -but why the devil should my niece take it up? She is not -the sort of woman you mean at all. To think that a -fine-looking, gentle, gifted girl, who might marry any man she -liked, and move in any society she chose, should spend her -days in an atmosphere of—what is the smell in this room, -sir?" -</p> - -<p> -Dudley laughed. "Carbolic, I suppose," he said. "I -use a good deal of it." -</p> - -<p> -"Carbolic! Well, think of a beautiful woman finding it -necessary to live in an atmosphere of—<i>carbolic</i>!" -</p> - -<p> -Dudley laughed again, his visitor's voice was so expressive. -</p> - -<p> -"There are minor drawbacks, of course," he said. "But -I strongly agree with you, that there is a part of our work -which ought to be in the hands of women; and I, for one, -will gladly hand it over to them." -</p> - -<p> -"I believe you! Oh, when all is said, it's grimy work, -doctoring—grimy work!" -</p> - -<p> -"You know, of course, that I join issue with you there." -</p> - -<p> -"You don't find it so?" -</p> - -<p> -"God forbid!" -</p> - -<p> -"Tell me," said the stranger eagerly, running his eye -from Dudley's cultured face to his long nervous hands, "you -ought to know—given a woman, pure, and good, and strong, -could she go through it all unharmed?" -</p> - -<p> -"Pure, and good, and strong," repeated Dudley reflectively. -"Given a woman like that, you may safely send -her through hell itself. I think the fundamental mistake -of our civilisation has been educating women as if they -were all run in one mould. She will get her eyes opened, -of course, if she studies medicine, but some women never -attain the possibilities of their nature in the shadow of -convent walls. Frankly, I have no great fancy for -artificially reared purity." -</p> - -<p> -"Artificially reared!" exclaimed the other. "My dear -sir, there are a few intermediate stages between the hothouse -and the dunghill! If it were only art, or literature, -or politics, or even science, but anatomy—the -dissecting-room!" -</p> - -<p> -"Well," said Dudley rather indignantly, his views -developing as he spoke, "even anatomy, like most things, is -as you make it. Many men take possession of a 'little city -of sewers,' but I should think a pure and good woman -might chance to find herself in the 'temple of the Holy -Ghost.'" -</p> - -<p> -His visitor was somewhat startled by this forcible -language, and he did not answer for a moment. He seemed to -be attentively studying the pattern of the carpet. Presently -he looked full at Dudley, and spoke somewhat sharply. -</p> - -<p> -"Knowing all you do, you think that possible?" -</p> - -<p> -"Knowing all I do, I think that more than possible." -</p> - -<p> -The man of the world sat for some time in silence, tapping -his boot with a ruler he had taken from the writing-table. -</p> - -<p> -"I'll tell you what I can do for you," said Dudley -suddenly. "I can give you the address of the Women's -Medical School. Your niece is probably there." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh Lord, no! I am a brave man, but I am not equal -to that. I would rather face a tiger in the jungle any day. -Well, sir, I am sure I am infinitely obliged to you. I wish -I could ask you to dine at my club, but I hope I shall see -you when I am next in London. That is my card. Where's -the little chap? Look here, my man! There is a Christmas-box -for you, but if you ever get under my horses' feet again, -I will drive right on; do you hear?" -</p> - -<p> -He shook hands cordially with Dudley, slipped a couple -of guineas into his hand, and in another minute the -impatient bays were dashing down the street. -</p> - -<p> -"Sir Douglas Munro," said Dudley, examining the card. -"A magnificent specimen of the fine old Anglo-Indian type. -I should like to see this wonderful niece of his!" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap34"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXXIV. -<br /><br /> -PALM-TREES AND PINES. -</h3> - -<p> -A world of palm-trees and pines, of aloes and eucalyptus, -of luxuriant hedges all nodding and laughing with gay red -roses, of white villas gleaming out from a misty background -of olives, of cloudless sky looking down on the deep blue -sea—a vivid sunshiny world, and in the midst of it all, Miss -Lucy, to all appearance as gay and as light-hearted as if she -had never dissected the pterygo-maxillary region, nor pored -over the pages of Quain. -</p> - -<p> -The band was playing waltzes in the garden below, and -Lucy, as she dressed, was dancing and swaying to and fro, -like the roses in the wind. -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Entrez!</i>" she cried, without moderating her steps, as -she heard a knock at the door. -</p> - -<p> -It was Evelyn, fair, tall, and somewhat severe. -</p> - -<p> -"You are not very like a medical student," she said -gravely. -</p> - -<p> -"I should take that for an unmixed compliment, if I did -not know what it meant." -</p> - -<p> -"What does it mean?" -</p> - -<p> -"That I am not in the least like Mona." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, you are not, you know." -</p> - -<p> -"True, <i>ma belle</i>. It was you who fitted on the lion's -skin, not I. But did you come into my room just to tell -me that?" -</p> - -<p> -"I came to say that if you can be ready in ten minutes, -Father will take us all to Monte Carlo." -</p> - -<p> -"Ten minutes! Oh, Evelyn, and you have wasted one! -What are you going to wear?" -</p> - -<p> -"This, of course. What should I wear?" -</p> - -<p> -Lucy selected a gown from her wardrobe. "But is not -Sir Douglas still awfully tired with the journey?" she asked, -looking over her shoulder to get a back view of her pretty -skirt in the pier-glass. -</p> - -<p> -"He has rested more or less for two days, and he is -anxious to see the Monteiths before they go on to Florence." -</p> - -<p> -She did not add, "I told him you were pining to see -Monte Carlo before you go home." -</p> - -<p> -"The Monteiths," repeated Lucy involuntarily. And as -she heard the name on her own lips, the healthy flush on her -cheek deepened almost imperceptibly. -</p> - -<p> -Evelyn seated herself on a hat-box. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't believe you will ever be a doctor," she remarked -calmly. -</p> - -<p> -"What do you bet?" Lucy did not look up from the -arduous task of fastening her bodice. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't bet; but if you ever are, I'll—<i>consult</i> you!" -</p> - -<p> -And having solemnly discharged this Parthian dart, she -left the room. -</p> - -<p> -In truth, the two girls were excellent friends, although -they were continually sparring. Evelyn considered Lucy an -absolute fraud in the capacity of "learned women," but she -did not on that account find the light-hearted medical -student any the less desirable as a companion. As to -comparing her with Mona, Evelyn would have laughed at the -bare idea; and loyal little Lucy would have been the first to -join in the laugh: she had never allowed any one even to -suspect that she had passed an examination in which Mona -had failed. Mona was the centre of the system in which -she was a satellite; she was bitterly jealous of all the other -satellites in their relation to the centre, but who would be -jealous of the sun? -</p> - -<p> -Lady Munro had taken a great fancy to her visitor. She -would not have owned to the heresy for the world, but she -certainly was much more at her ease in Lucy's society than -she ever had been in Mona's, and how Sir Douglas could -find his niece more <i>piquante</i> than Lucy Reynolds, she could -not even imagine. She knew exactly where she had Lucy, -but even when Mona agreed with her most warmly, she had -an uncomfortable feeling that a glance into her niece's mind -might prove a little startling. She met Lucy on common -ground, but Mona seemed to be on a different plane, and -Lady Munro found it extremely difficult to tell when that -plane was above, and when below, her own. -</p> - -<p> -She would have been not a little surprised, and her -opinion of the relative attractions of the two friends might -have been somewhat altered, had any one told her that -Mona admired and idealised her much more even than Lucy -did. If any one of us were unfortunate enough to receive -the "giftie" of which the poet has sung, it is probable that -the principal result of such insight would be a complete -readjustment of our friendships. -</p> - -<p> -But now Sir Douglas had appeared upon the scene, and of -course Lucy was much more anxious to "succeed" with him -than with either of the others. She had seen very little of -him as yet, and she had done her best, but so far the result -had been somewhat disappointing. It was almost a -principle with Sir Douglas never to pay much attention to a -pretty young girl. He had seen so many of them in his -day, and they were all so much alike. Even this saucy -little <i>Æsculapia militans</i> was no exception. As the -scientist traces an organism through "an alternation of -generations," and learns by close observation that two or three -names have been given to one and the same being, so Sir -Douglas fancied he saw in Lucy Reynolds only an old and -familiar type in a new stage of its life-history. -</p> - -<p> -He had gone through much trouble and perplexity on the -subject of Mona's life-work; and Dudley's somewhat fanciful -words had for the first time given expression to a vague idea -that had floated formless in his own mind ever since he first -met his niece at Gloucester Place. It would be ridiculous -to apply such an explanation to Lucy's choice, but Sir -Douglas had no intention of opening up the problem afresh. -He took for granted that Lucy had undertaken the work -"for the fun of the thing," because it was novel, startling, -<i>outré</i>; and he confided to his wife that "that old Reynolds -must be a chuckle-headed noodle in his dotage to allow such -a piece of nonsense." -</p> - -<p> -In a very short time after Evelyn's summons to Lucy, the -whole party were rattling down the hill to the station, in -the crisp, cold, dewy morning air. Evelyn was calm and -dignified as usual, but Lucy was wild with excitement. -Everything was a luxury to her—to be with a man of -the world like Sir Douglas, to travel in a luxurious -first-class carriage, to see a little bit more of this wonderful -world. -</p> - -<p> -They left Nice behind them, and then the scenery became -gradually grander and more severe, till the train had to -tunnel its way through the mighty battlements of rock that -towered above the sea, and afforded a scanty nourishment -to the scattered pines, all tossed and bent and twisted by -the wind in the enervating climate of the south. At last, -jutting out above the water, at the foot of the rugged -heights, as though it too, forsooth, had the rights of eternal -nature, Monte Carlo came in view,—gay, vulgar, beautiful, -tawdry, irresistible Monte Carlo! -</p> - -<p> -"Is that really the Casino?" said Lucy, in an eager -hushed voice. -</p> - -<p> -Sir Douglas laughed. Lucy's enthusiasm pleased him in -spite of himself. -</p> - -<p> -"It is," he said; "but, if you have no objection, we'll -have something to eat before we visit it." -</p> - -<p> -To him the Casino was a commonplace toy of yesterday; -to Evelyn it was a shocking and beautiful place, that one -ought to see for once; to Lucy it was a temple of romance. -No need to bid her speak softly as she entered the gorgeous, -gloomy halls, with their silent eager groups. -</p> - -<p> -"Shall we see Gwendolen Harleth?" she whispered to -Evelyn. -</p> - -<p> -On this occasion, however, Gwendolen Harleth was -conspicuous by her absence. There were a number of women -at the roulette-tables who looked like commonplace, -hard-working governesses; there were be-rouged and be-jewelled -ladies of the demi-monde; there were wicked, wrinkled old -harpies who always seemed to win; and there were one or two -ordinary blooming young girls; but there was no Gwendolen -Harleth. For a moment Lucy was almost disappointed. It -all looked so like a game with counters, and no one seemed -to care so very much where the wheel stopped: surely the -tragedy of this place had been a little overdrawn. -</p> - -<p> -At that instant her eyes fell on an English boy, whose -fresh honest face was thrown into deep anxious furrows, and -who kept glancing furtively round, as if to make sure that -no one noticed his misery. His eye met Lucy's, and with a -great effort he tried to smooth his face into a look of easy -assurance. He was not playing, but he went on half -unconsciously, jotting down the winning numbers on a slip of -paper. -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Messieurs, faites vos jeux.</i>" -</p> - -<p> -The boy opened a large lean pocket-book, and drew out -his last five-franc piece. -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Le jeu est fait.</i>" -</p> - -<p> -With sudden resolution he laid it on the table, and pushed -it into place. -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Rien ne, va plus.</i>" -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Vingt-sept.</i>" -</p> - -<p> -And the poor little five-franc piece was swept into the -bank. -</p> - -<p> -The boy smiled airily, and returned the empty book to his -pocket. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy looked at her companions, but none of them had -noticed the little tragedy. Sir Douglas led the way to -another table, and finally he handed a five-franc piece to -each of the girls. To his mind it was a part of the -programme that they should be able to say they had tried their -luck. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy hesitated, strongly tempted. Dim visions floated -before her mind of making "pounds and pounds," and handing -them over to that poor boy. Then she shook her head. -</p> - -<p> -"My father would not like it," she whispered. -</p> - -<p> -Sir Douglas shrugged his shoulders. Verily, there was no -accounting for taste. How a man could allow his daughter -to spend years in the dissecting-room, and in the surgical -wards of a hospital,—subject her, in fact, to the necessity of -spending her life in an atmosphere of carbolic,—and object -to her laying a big silver counter on a green cloth, just for -once, was more than he could divine. -</p> - -<p> -Evelyn hesitated also. But it would be such fun to say -she had done it. She took the coin and laid it on the table. -"Where would you put it?" she whispered rather helplessly -to Lucy. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy knew nothing of the game, but she had been watching -its progress attentively, and her eye had been trained to -quick and close observation. Annoyed at Evelyn's slowness, -and without stopping to think, she took the cue and pushed -the coin into place. It was just in time. In another instant -Evelyn's stake was doubled. -</p> - -<p> -"There, that will do," said Sir Douglas, as Evelyn seemed -inclined to repeat the performance. "I don't want to see -your cheeks like those of that lady opposite." -</p> - -<p> -A gentleman stood aside to let them leave the table, and -as they passed he held out his hand to Lucy. She did not -take it at once, but looked up at Sir Douglas in pretty -consternation. -</p> - -<p> -"<i>There!</i>" she said. "I knew it! This is one of my -father's churchwardens." -</p> - -<p> -Sir Douglas was much amused. "Well," he said, "you -have at least met on common ground!" -</p> - -<p> -Lucy attempted a feeble explanation of the situation in -which she had been caught, and then hastily followed the -others to the inner temples sacred to <i>Rouge et Noir</i>. Here, -at least, there was tragedy enough even at the first glance. -Lucy almost forgot the poor lad at the roulette-table, as she -watched the piles of gold being raked hither and thither with -such terrific speed. One consumptive-looking man, whose -face scarcely promised a year of life, was staking wildly, and -losing, losing, losing. At lust the piles in front of him were -all gone. After a moment's hesitation they were followed -by note after note from his pocket-book. Then these too -came to an end, but still the relentless wheel went on with -that swiftness that is like nothing else on earth. The man -made no movement to leave the table. With yellow-white -shaking hands he continued to note the results, and while -all the rest were staking and winning and losing, he went -on aimlessly, feverishly pricking some meaningless design on -the ruled sheet before him. And all the time two young -girls were gaining, gaining, gaining, and smiling to the men -behind them as they raked in the piles of gold. -</p> - -<p> -"Let us go," said Lucy quickly. "I cannot bear this." -</p> - -<p> -"I do think we have had enough of it," Lady Munro -agreed. "I am thirsty, Douglas; let us have some coffee." -</p> - -<p> -They strolled out into the bright sunshine. -</p> - -<p> -"Well," said Sir Douglas, "a little disappointing, <i>n'est ce -pas</i>?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh no," said Lucy; "not at all. It is far more real -than I thought. The only disappointing thing is that——" -</p> - -<p> -"What?" -</p> - -<p> -She lifted her eyes with an expression of profound gravity. -</p> - -<p> -"All the women trim their own hats." -</p> - -<p> -"Why, Lucy," put in Evelyn, "I saw some very nice hats." -</p> - -<p> -"I did not say none of them trimmed their hats <i>well</i>," said -Lucy severely. "I only said they all trimmed their own." -</p> - -<p> -"We are rather too early in the day for <i>toilettes</i>," said Sir -Douglas. "I confess one does not see many attractive -women here; but there was a highly respectable British -matron just opposite us at that last table." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," said Lucy indignantly. "She was the worst of -all; sailing about in her comfortable British plumage, with -that air of self-satisfied horror at the depth of Continental -wickedness, and of fond pride in the bouncing flapper at her -heels. She made me feel that it was worse to look on than -to play." -</p> - -<p> -"Don't distress yourself," said Sir Douglas quietly; "you -did play, you know. Ask the churchwarden." -</p> - -<p> -"I owe you five francs," said Evelyn, "or ten. Which -is it?" -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Don't!</i>" said Lucy. "It is no laughing matter for me, -I can assure you. Many is the trick I have played on that -man. Heigh-ho! He has his revenge." -</p> - -<p> -"Don't be down-hearted. You had at least the satisfaction -of winning." -</p> - -<p> -But Lucy was in no humour for being teased, and, to -change the subject, she began to tell the story of the -different tragedies she had witnessed. -</p> - -<p> -"It is all nonsense, you know," said Sir Douglas -good-humouredly. "That is the sort of stuff they put in the good -books. People who are really being bitten don't attract -attention to themselves by overdone by-play." -</p> - -<p> -Lucy did not reply, but she retained her own opinion. -Overdone by-play, indeed! As if she had eyes for nothing -more subtle than overdone by-play! -</p> - -<p> -"In the meantime we will have our coffee," said Sir -Douglas, "and then I will leave you at the concert, while I -look up Monteith. I will come and fetch you at the end of -the first part. Here, Maud, this table is disengaged." -</p> - -<p> -The head-waiter came up immediately. Sir Douglas was -one of those people who rarely have occasion to call a waiter. -He gave the order, lighted a cigar very deliberately, and -then turned abruptly to Lucy. -</p> - -<p> -"Where is Mona?" he asked quietly. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy almost gasped for breath. -</p> - -<p> -"She was in London when I saw her last," she said, -trying to gain time. -</p> - -<p> -"At her old rooms?" -</p> - -<p> -"No-o," faltered Lucy. "She was sharing my rooms -then." -</p> - -<p> -Then she gathered herself together. This would never do. -Anything would be better than to suggest that there was a -mystery in the matter. -</p> - -<p> -"You see," she said, "I have been away ever since the -beginning of term, and I have not heard from Mona for -some time. I know she has taken all the classes she requires -for her next examination, and reading can be done in one -place as well as in another." -</p> - -<p> -"Then why the—why could not she come to us and -do it?" -</p> - -<p> -Lucy laughed. She began to hope that the storm was -passing over. -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose Mona would reply," she said, "that Cannes, -like Cambridge, is an excellent place to play in." -</p> - -<p> -"Then you don't know her address?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know it positively. I think it is quite likely that -she is with that cousin of hers in the north. She said once -that she could do far more work in that bracing air." -</p> - -<p> -"So she has gone there to prepare for this examination?" -</p> - -<p> -"I believe she is working very hard." -</p> - -<p> -"And when does the examination take place?" -</p> - -<p> -"I have not heard her say when she means to go up. -You see, Sir Douglas, my plans are Mona's, but Mona's -plans are her own. She is not one to rush through her -course anyhow for the sake of getting on the register, -like—me for instance." -</p> - -<p> -"I can believe that. It seems Mona told her aunt that -she was leaving her old rooms, and that it would be well to -address letters for the present to the care of her man of -business. Is that what you do?" -</p> - -<p> -"I have not written for a long time. I shall send my -next to her man of business." -</p> - -<p> -"And won't I just give Mona a vivid account of how I -came to do it!" she added mentally. -</p> - -<p> -"Have you seen this lady—Mona's cousin? I don't know -anything about her." -</p> - -<p> -"No, I have not. I believe she is very quiet, and elderly, -and respectable,—and dull; the sort of person in whose -house one can get through a lot of work." -</p> - -<p> -"Humph," growled Sir Douglas. "A nice life for a girl -like Mona!" -</p> - -<p> -"I am sure I wish she were here!" -</p> - -<p> -Sir Douglas looked at her. "Some of us," he said quietly, -"wish that every day of our lives. I called the other day -to take her for a drive in the Park, but found she had left -her old rooms." And then he told the story of his little -misadventure of a few days before. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh," said Lucy, "what a terrible pity! Mona loves -driving in the Park. Do go for her again some day when -she is working in London. You have no idea what a treat -a drive in the Park is to people who have been poring over -their bones, and their books, and their test-tubes." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, what in the name of all that is incomprehensible -does she do it for? She might drive in the Park every day -if she chose." -</p> - -<p> -"But then," said Lucy, "she would not be Mona." -</p> - -<p> -The muscles of his face relaxed, and then contracted -again. -</p> - -<p> -"Even admitting," he said, "that all is well just now, -how will it be ten years hence?" -</p> - -<p> -"Ten years hence," said Evelyn, "Mona will have married -a clever young doctor. Lucy says the students have several -times married the lecturers." -</p> - -<p> -Sir Douglas frowned. "I should just like to see," he flashed -out angrily, "the young doctor who would presume to come -and ask me for Mona! I hate the whole trade. Why, that -young fellow I told you about, who came to my rescue, was -infinitely superior to most of them—cultured, and travelled, -and that sort of thing—but, bless my soul! he was not a -man of the world. I would sooner see Mona in a convent -than give her to a whipper-snapper like that!" -</p> - -<p> -"Evelyn is wrong," said Lucy. "Mona will not marry. -She never thinks of that sort of thing. Ten years hence -she will be a little bit matronly, by reason of all the girls -and women she will have mothered. Her face will be -rather worn perhaps, but in my eyes at least she will be -beautiful." -</p> - -<p> -"And in yours, Douglas," said Lady Munro, "she will -still be the bright young girl that she is to-day." -</p> - -<p> -She laughed softly as she spoke, but the laugh was a -rather half-hearted one. She had learnt the difference -between the fruit that is in a man's hand, and the fruit that -is just out of reach. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap35"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXXV. -<br /><br /> -WEEPING AND LAUGHTER. -</h3> - -<p> -Sir Douglas had gone to see his friend, but it was still -too early for the concert, so Lady Munro and the girls -strolled round to the terrace overlooking the sea. -</p> - -<p> -"How lovely, how lovely!" said Lucy. "I wonder -if there is any view in all the world like this?" -</p> - -<p> -"We must find those two statues by Sara Bernhardt and -Gustave Doré," said Evelyn, looking up from her Baedeker. -"One of them represents——" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, bother the statues!" cried Lucy. "I want to feel -things to-day, not to look at them." Her voice changed -suddenly. "Lady Munro," she said very softly, "that -is my boy leaning on the stone balustrade. Now, did I -exaggerate? Look at him!" -</p> - -<p> -Lady Munro walked on for a moment or two, and then -glanced at the lad incidentally; but the glance extended -itself with impunity into a very deliberate study. The -boy's face was flushed, and he was muttering to himself -incoherently as he gazed in front of him with unseeing eyes. -</p> - -<p> -"He looks as if he was going mad," remarked Evelyn -frankly. -</p> - -<p> -"He looks a great deal more like an acute maniac than -most acute maniacs do," said Lucy, with a proud recollection -of a few visits to an asylum. "Oh, Lady Munro, do, do go -and speak to him! You would do it so beautifully." -</p> - -<p> -Lady Munro hesitated. She never went out of her way -to do good, but this boy seemed to have come into her way; -and her action was none the less beautiful, because it was -dictated, not by principle at all, but by sheer motherly -impulse. -</p> - -<p> -She left the girls some distance off, and rustled softly up -to where he stood. -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Pardon, monsieur,</i>" she said lightly, "can you tell me -where the statue by Gustavo Doré is?" -</p> - -<p> -He started and looked up. One did not often see a -gracious woman like this at Monte Carlo. -</p> - -<p> -"I beg your pardon," he said, making a desperate effort -to collect his thoughts. Distraught as was his air, his -accent and manner were cultured and refined. Lady -Munro's interest in him increased. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you know where there is a statue by Gustave Doré?" -</p> - -<p> -He shook his head. "I am sorry I don't," he said, and -he turned away his face. -</p> - -<p> -But Lady Munro did not mean the conversation to end -thus. "This is a charming view, is it not?" she said. -</p> - -<p> -"Ye-e-s," he said; "oh, very charming." -</p> - -<p> -"I think I saw you at one of the tables in the Casino. I -hope you were successful?" -</p> - -<p> -He turned towards her like a stag at bay. There was -anger and resentment in his face, but far more deeply -written than either of these was despair. It was such -a boyish face, too, so open and honest. "Don't you see -I can't talk about nothings?" it seemed to say. "You are -very kind and very beautiful; I am at your mercy; but -why do you torture me?" -</p> - -<p> -"You are in trouble," Lady Munro said, in her soft, -irresistible voice. "Perhaps it is not so bad after all. Tell -me about it." -</p> - -<p> -A woman more accustomed to missions of mercy would -have calculated better the effect of her words. In another -moment the tears were raining down the lad's cheeks, and -his voice was choked with sobs. Fortunately, the great -terrace was almost entirely deserted. Lucy and Evelyn sat -at some distance, apparently deep in the study of Baedeker, -and in a far-off corner an old gentleman was reading his -newspaper. -</p> - -<p> -The story came rather incoherently at last, but the thread -was simple enough. -</p> - -<p> -The boy had an only sister, a very delicate girl, who had -been ordered to spend the winter at San Remo. He had -taken her there, had seen her safely installed, and—had met -an acquaintance who had persuaded him to spend a night at -Monte Carlo on the way home. From that point on, of -course, the story needed no telling. But the practical -upshot of it was that the boy had in his purse, at that moment, -precisely sixty-five centimes in money, and a -twenty-five-centime stamp; he had nothing wherewith to pay the -journey home, and he was some pounds in debt to his -friend. -</p> - -<p> -Truly, all things are relative in life. While some men -were forfeiting their thousands at the tables with comparative -equanimity, this lad was wellnigh losing his reason -for the sake of some fifteen pounds. -</p> - -<p> -"What friends had he at home?" was of course Lady -Munro's first question. "Had he a father—a mother?" -</p> - -<p> -His mother was dead, and his father—his father was very -stern, and not at all rich. It had not been an easy matter -for him to send his daughter to the Riviera. -</p> - -<p> -"That is what makes it so dreadful," said the lad. "I -wish to heaven I had taken a return ticket! but I wanted -to go home by steamer from Marseilles. The fatal moment -was when I encroached on my journey-money. After I had -done that, of course I had to go on to replace it: but the -luck was dead against me. Oh, if I could only recall -that first five francs! If I could have foreseen this—but I -meant——" -</p> - -<p> -"You meant to win, of course," said Lady Munro kindly. -</p> - -<p> -The boy laughed shamefacedly, in the midst of his misery. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, I think my punishment equals my sin," he said. -"I would gladly live on bread and water for months, if I -could undo two days of my life. I keep thinking round and -round in a circle, till I am nearly mad. I cannot write to -my father, and yet what else can I do?" -</p> - -<p> -Lady Munro was silent for a few minutes when the lad -had finished speaking. She was wondering what Sir Douglas -would say. When a married woman is called upon to help -her fellows, she has much to think of besides her own -generous impulses; and in Lady Munro's case it was well -perhaps that this was so. She would empty her purse for the -needy as readily as she would empty it for some jewel that -took her fancy, sublimely regardless in the one case as in the -other of the wants of the morrow. Ah, well! it is a good -thing for mankind that a perfect woman is not always -essential to the <i>rôle</i> of ministering angel! -</p> - -<p> -"I will try to help you," she said at last, "though I -cannot absolutely promise. In the meantime here is a -napoleon. That will take you to Cannes, and pay for a -night's lodging. Call on me to-morrow between ten and -eleven." She handed him her card. "I think," she added -as an afterthought, "you will promise not to enter the -Casino again?" -</p> - -<p> -It was very characteristic of her to ask as a favour what -she might have demanded as a condition. The boy blushed -crimson as he took the napoleon. "You are very kind," he -said nervously. "Thank you. I won't so much as look at -the Casino again." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, Miss Lucy, a pretty scrape you have got me into!" -said Lady Munro, as she joined the girls. "It will take -fifteen pounds to set that boy on his feet again." -</p> - -<p> -"Tell us all about it," said Lucy eagerly. "Who is he?" -</p> - -<p> -"His name is Edgar Davidson, and he is a medical -student." -</p> - -<p> -"I knew it! No wonder I was interested in a brother of -the cloth! What hospital?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know." -</p> - -<p> -"Is he going in for the colleges or for the university?" -</p> - -<p> -"My dear child, how should I think of asking?" -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose mother did not even enquire who his tailor -was," said Evelyn quietly. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't mind about his tailor, but it would interest me -to know where he gets his scalpels sharpened. What brings -him here during term?" -</p> - -<p> -Lady Munro had just time to give a sketch of the lad's -story, when they arrived at the door of the concert-hall—wonderful -alike for its magnificence and its vulgarity—to -find the orchestra already carrying away the whole room -with a brilliant, piquant, irresistible <i>pizzicato</i>. -</p> - -<p> -"Do take a back seat, mother," whispered Evelyn; "we -can't have Lucy dancing right up the hall." -</p> - -<p> -Lucy shot a glance of lofty scorn at her friend. -</p> - -<p> -"I am glad at least that Providence did not make me a -lamp-post," she said severely. -</p> - -<p> -The last note of the piece had not died away, when a -young man came forward and held out his hand to Lady -Munro. -</p> - -<p> -"Why, Mr Monteith, my husband has just gone to your -hotel." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes; he told me you were here, so I left him and my -father together." -</p> - -<p> -He shook hands with the two girls, and seated himself -beside Lucy. -</p> - -<p> -"You here?" she said with an air of calm indifference, -which was very unlike her usual impulsive manner. -</p> - -<p> -"Nay, it is I who should say that. You here? And you -leave me to find it out by chance from Sir Douglas?" -</p> - -<p> -"It did not occur to me that you would be interested," -and she fanned herself very gracefully, but very -unnecessarily, with her programme. -</p> - -<p> -"Little coquette!" thought Lady Munro. But Lucy -looked so charming at the moment, that not even a woman -could blame her. -</p> - -<p> -"How is Cannes looking?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, lovely—lovelier than ever. Some awfully nice -people have come." -</p> - -<p> -"So you don't miss any of those who have gone?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not in the least." -</p> - -<p> -"And you would not care to see any old friend back again -for a day or two?" -</p> - -<p> -There was a moment's pause. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't think there would be room; the hotel seems -full——" -</p> - -<p> -With a sudden burst of harmony the music began, and -there was no more conversation till the next pause. -</p> - -<p> -"Have you ever walked up to the chapel on the hill -again?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, lots of times!" -</p> - -<p> -"You have been energetic. Have you chanced to see the -Maritime Alps in the strange mystical light we saw that -day?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes. They always look like that." -</p> - -<p> -"Curious! Then I suppose the walk has no longer any -associations——" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, but it has—bitter associations! We left the path -to get some asparagus, and my gown caught in a -bramble-bush, and a dog barked——" -</p> - -<p> -The first soft notes of the violins checked the tragic sequel -of her tale, and the music swelled into a pathetic wailing -waltz, which brought the first part of the programme to an -end. -</p> - -<p> -Sir Douglas came during the interval to take them away, -and Mr Monteith walked down with them to the station. -</p> - -<p> -"I am sorry there is no room for me at the hotel," he -said, as he stood with Lucy on the platform. -</p> - -<p> -"Pray, don't take my word for it. I don't 'run the -shanty.' Perhaps you could get a bed." -</p> - -<p> -"What is the use, if people would be sorry to see an old -acquaintance?" -</p> - -<p> -"How can you say such things?" said Lucy, looking up -at him cordially. "I am sure there are some old ladies in -the hotel who would be delighted to see you." -</p> - -<p> -"But no young ones?" -</p> - -<p> -"I can't answer for them." -</p> - -<p> -"You can for yourself." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh yes." -</p> - -<p> -"And you don't care one way or the other?" -</p> - -<p> -"No;" she shook her head slowly and regretfully. -</p> - -<p> -"Not at all?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not at all." -</p> - -<p> -"Not the least bit in the world?" -</p> - -<p> -Lucy lifted her eyes again demurely. "When one comes -to deal with such very small quantities, Mr Monteith," she -said, "it is difficult to speak with scientific accuracy. If -you really care to know——" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes?" -</p> - -<p> -"Where are the Munros?" -</p> - -<p> -"In the next carriage. Do finish your sentence." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't remember what I was going to say," said Lucy -calmly. "A sure proof, my old nurse used to tell me, that it -was better unsaid." -</p> - -<p> -She sprang lightly up the high step of the carriage, and -then turned to say good-bye. The colour in her cheeks was -very bright. -</p> - -<p> -Ten minutes later she seemed to have forgotten everything -except the wonderful afterglow, which reddened the rocks -and trees, and converted the whole surface of the sea into -one blazing ruby shield. -</p> - -<p> -Sir Douglas was nodding over his newspaper. Lucy laid -her hand on Lady Munro's soft fur. -</p> - -<p> -"You have been very good to me," she said. "I don't -know how to thank you. I really think you have opened -the gates of Paradise to me." -</p> - -<p> -The words suggested a meaning that Lady Munro did -not altogether like, but she answered lightly,— -</p> - -<p> -"It has been a great pleasure to all of us to have you, -dear; but you know we don't mean to let you go on -Thursday." -</p> - -<p> -Lucy smiled. "I must," she said sadly. "A week hence -it will all seem like a beautiful dream—a dream that will -last me all my life." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, I am glad to think the roses in your cheeks are no -dream, and I hope they will last you all your life, too." -</p> - -<p> -And then the careless words re-echoed through her mind -with a deeper significance, and she wished Sir Douglas would -wake up and talk, even if it were only to grumble. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -That night there were two private conversations. -</p> - -<p> -Evelyn had gone into Lucy's room to brush her hair in -company. -</p> - -<p> -"What a touching sight!" said Lucy, laughing suddenly, -as, by the dancing firelight, she caught sight of the two fair -young figures in the mirror—their loosened hair falling all -about their shoulders. "Come on with your confidences! -Now is the time. At least so they say in books." -</p> - -<p> -"Unfortunately I have not got any confidences." -</p> - -<p> -"Nor have I—thank heaven!" She bent low over the -glowing wood-fire. "What slavery love must be!" -</p> - -<p> -Evelyn watched her with interest, but Lucy's next words -were somewhat disappointing. -</p> - -<p> -"Evelyn," she said, "how is it Mona has contrived to -charm your father so? I need not tell you what I think -about her, but, broadly speaking, she is not a man's woman, -and I should not have fancied she was the sort of girl to -fetch Sir Douglas at all." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't think it strange," said Evelyn languidly. "I -have often thought about it. You see, she is very like what -my mother must have been at her age, though not nearly so -charming to mere acquaintances; and then just where the -dear old Mater stops short, the real Mona begins. It must -be such a surprise to Father!" -</p> - -<p> -"That is ingenious, certainly. How Mr Monteith admires -your mother!" -</p> - -<p> -"Does he?" -</p> - -<p> -"I wonder what he would think of Mona!" -</p> - -<p> -"I can't guess." -</p> - -<p> -"Have you known him long?" -</p> - -<p> -"Father and Mother have known his father long." -</p> - -<p> -"Do you think he is honest?" -</p> - -<p> -"Which?" -</p> - -<p> -"The son, of course." -</p> - -<p> -"He never stole anything from me." -</p> - -<p> -"Don't be a goose! Do you think he means what he says?" -</p> - -<p> -Evelyn paused before replying. -</p> - -<p> -"You don't?" said Lucy quickly. -</p> - -<p> -"I was trying to remember anything he did say," Evelyn -answered very deliberately. "The only remark I can remember -addressed to myself was, 'Brute of a day, isn't it?' I -think he meant that. He certainly looked as if he did." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -"Douglas," said Lady Munro, "would Colonel Monteith -allow his son to marry Lucy Reynolds?" -</p> - -<p> -"Nonsense! what ideas you do take into your head!" -</p> - -<p> -"Because, if he would not, things have gone quite far -enough. George said something to me about coming back -to Cannes for a day or two. Of course that child is the -attraction. If you think it will end in nothing, he must not -come." -</p> - -<p> -"So that is what her vocation amounts to!" -</p> - -<p> -"My dear Douglas! what does she know of life? She is -a child——" -</p> - -<p> -"Precisely, and her father is another. God bless my soul! -Monteith's son must marry an heiress." -</p> - -<p> -Lady Munro did not pursue the subject; she had something -else to talk of. She rose presently, and walked across -the room. -</p> - -<p> -"Douglas," she said, stopping idly before the glass, "I -wish you would give me your recipe for looking youthful. -You will soon look younger than your wife." -</p> - -<p> -"Nonsense," he said gruffly, but he smiled. His wife did -not often make pretty speeches now-a-days. As it happened -she was looking particularly young that night, too. Perhaps -that fact had struck her, and had suggested the remark. -</p> - -<p> -For half an hour they chatted together, as they might -have done in the old, old days, and then—— -</p> - -<p> -And then Lady Munro broached the subject of the boy at -Monte Carlo. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap36"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXXVI. -<br /><br /> -NORTHERN MISTS. -</h3> - -<p> -It seems gratuitously cruel to take my readers back to -bleak old Borrowness in this dreary month of December: -away from the roses and the sunshine, and the wonderful -matchless blue, to the mud, and the mist, and the barren -fields, and the cold, grey sea. -</p> - -<p> -Princely, luxurious Cannes! Home of the wealth of -nations! stretched out at ease like a beautiful woman, along -the miles of wooded hill that embrace the bay. Homely, -work-a-day Borrowness! stooping down all unseen, shrouded -in northern mists, to gather its daily bread. Do you indeed -belong to the same world? feel the same needs? share the -same curse? Do the children play on the graves in the one -as in the other? in both do man and maid touch hands and -blush and wonder? Is there canker at the core of the -luscious glowing fruit? is there living sap in the heart of the -gnarled and stunted tree? Beautiful Cannes! resting, -expanding, enjoying, smiling! Brave little Borrowness! frowning -and panting and sighing, and wiping with weary hand -the sweat from a workworn brow! -</p> - -<p> -Christmas was drawing near, but it had been heralded by -no fairy frost, only by rain and fog and dull grey skies. -Mona's life had been unmarked by any event that had -distinguished one day from another. The last entry in the -unwritten diary of her life was some three weeks old, and -consisted of one word in red letters—<i>Stradivarius</i>. And -yet the days had been so full, that, in order to redeem her -promise to Mr Reynolds, she had often found herself -constrained, when bedtime came, to rake together the embers of -the fire, and spend an hour over the mechanics of the -circulation, or the phenomena of isomerism. "Don't talk to me -of the terpenes or the recent work on the sugars," she wrote to -a friend in London, who had offered to send her some papers. -"I have little time to read at all; and when I do, I have -sworn to keep to the beaten track. Well-thumbed, jog-trot -text-books for me; no nice damp Transactions! Wae is me! wae -is me! You must send your entrancing fairy tales to -some one else!" -</p> - -<p> -Trade had continued very brisk in the little shop; indeed -its character and reputation had completely changed. A few -interesting boxes had arrived from the Stores, and the local -traveller no longer had amusing tales to relate of the way in -which Miss Simpson kept shop. In fact, had it not been -for his prospects in life, and for his desire to spare the -feelings of his family, he would have been strongly tempted to -offer his heart and hand to Miss Simpson's bright and -capable assistant. It would be an advantage in many ways to -have a wife who understood the business; and, poor thing, -she would not readily find a husband in Borrowness. She -was thrown away at present—there was no doubt of that. -Why, with her quick head at figures, and her fine lady -manners, she could get a situation anywhere. -</p> - -<p> -Mona, fortunately, was all unaware of the tempting fruit -that dangled just above her head. She had, it is true, some -difficulty in keeping the traveller to the point, when she had -dealings with him; but her limited intercourse with the -other sex had not taught her to regard this as peculiarly -surprising. -</p> - -<p> -What rejoiced her heart, far more even than the success -of the shop, was the number of women and girls who had -got into the way of consulting her about all sorts of things. -"I exist here now," she wrote to Doris, "in the dual capacity -of assistant to Miss Simpson, and of general referee on -the choice of new goods and the modification of old ones. -'Goods' is a vague term, and is to be interpreted very liberally. -It includes not only dresses and bonnets and furniture, -but also husbands." -</p> - -<p> -Rachel did not at all approve of this large and unremunerative -<i>clientèle</i>. If there had been any question of "honesty -and religion like," it would have been different; but she -considered that the "hussies wasted a deal of Mona's time, -when she might have been better employed." -</p> - -<p> -To Matilda Cookson, of course, she objected less; but she -never could sufficiently express her wonder at Mona's -inconsistency in this respect. -</p> - -<p> -"As soon as the Cooksons begin to notice you, you just -bow down like all the rest, for all your fine talk," she said -one day, in a moment of irritation. -</p> - -<p> -Mona strove to find a gentle reply in vain, so, contrary to -all her principles, she was constrained to receive the remark -in irritating silence. -</p> - -<p> -Matilda Cookson had remained very true to her allegiance, -and would at this time have proved an interesting study to -any psychologist whose path she had chanced to cross. -Almost at a glance he could have divided all the opinions she -uttered into two classes—those that were her own, and -those that were Mona's. The former were expressed with -timid deference; the latter were flung in the face of her -acquaintances, with a dogmatic air of finality that was none -the less irritating because the opinions themselves were -occasionally novel and striking. Matilda glowed with pride -when she repeated a bold and original remark; she -stammered and blushed when one of her own poor fledgelings -stole into the light. It was on the former that a rapidly -developing reputation for "cleverness" was insecurely based; -it was the latter that delighted Mona's heart, and made her -intercourse with the girl a source of never-ceasing interest. -It is so easy to heap fuel on another mind; but to apply the -first spark, to watch it flicker, and glow, and catch -hold—that is one of the things that is worth living for. -</p> - -<p> -To one of Mona's <i>protégées</i> Rachel never even referred, -and that was the girl who had fainted at the <i>soirée</i>. Mona -had taken an interest in her patient, had prescribed a course -of arsenic and green vegetables; and the improvement in -the girl's appearance had seemed almost miraculous. -</p> - -<p> -"She usedna tae be able tae gang up the stair wi'oot -sittin' doon tae get her breath," said her grandmother to -Miss Simpson one day; "an' noo, my word! she's awa' like -a cat up a tree." -</p> - -<p> -Rachel carefully refrained from repeating this remark to -Mona. She was afraid that so surprising a result might -encourage her cousin to persevere in a work which Rachel -fondly hoped had been relinquished for ever. The good soul -had been much depressed on chancing to see the prescription -which Mona had written for the girl. Why, it was a real -prescription—like one of Dr Burns'! When a woman had -got the length of writing <i>that</i>, what was the use of telling -her she would never make a doctor? What more, when -you came to think of it, did doctors do? There was nothing -for it but to encourage Mr Brown, and Rachel forthwith -determined to invite him and his sisters to tea. -</p> - -<p> -The study of the <i>Musci</i>, <i>Algæ</i>, and <i>Fungi</i> had not proved -a striking success hitherto. There had been one delightful -ramble among the rocks and pools, but since then the -pursuit had somewhat flagged. Several excursions had been -arranged, but all had fallen through. On one occasion Miss -Brown had been confined to the house; on another she had -been obliged to visit an aunt who was ill; and on a third -the weather had been unpropitious. -</p> - -<p> -"My dear," said Rachel one day, after the formation of -the bold resolution above recorded, "if you are going in to -Kirkstoun, you might stop at Donald's on the Shore, and -order some cookies and shortbread. To-morrow's the day -the cart comes round, and I'm expecting Mr Brown and his -sisters to tea." -</p> - -<p> -Mona nearly dropped the box of tape she was holding. -</p> - -<p> -"Dear cousin," she said, "the sisters have never called on -you, have they?" -</p> - -<p> -"No," replied Rachel frankly, "but one must make a -beginning. They offered us tea the day we were there." -</p> - -<p> -"I promised Mrs Ewing that I would play the organ for -the choir practice to-morrow evening." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, I'm sure I never heard the like! She just takes -her use of you." -</p> - -<p> -"You must not forget that she allows me to practise on -the organ whenever I like. It is an infinite treat to me." -</p> - -<p> -"And what's the use of it, I wonder? You can't take an -organ about with you when you go out to tea." -</p> - -<p> -"That's perfectly true," said Mona, laughing; "it is a -selfish pleasure, no doubt." -</p> - -<p> -"It all comes of your going to the English chapel in the -evening. If you'd taken my advice, you'd never have -darkened its doors. They say so much about Mr Ewing being a -gentleman, but I do think it was a queer-like thing their -asking you to lunch, and never saying a word about me. -Mr Stuart doesn't set himself up for anything great, but he -did ask you to tea along with me." -</p> - -<p> -"The Ewings have not been introduced to you, dear." -</p> - -<p> -"And whose doing is that, I'd like to know? We've met -them often enough in the town." -</p> - -<p> -Mona sighed. She considered that lunch at the Ewings' -the great mistake of her life at Borrowness. She had -resolved so heroically that Rachel's friends were to be her -friends; but the invitation had been given suddenly, and -she had accepted it. She had not stopped to think of infant -baptism, or the relations of Church and State; or the -propriety of a clergyman eking out his scanty stipend by raising -prize poultry, or of allowing himself to be "taken up" by -the people at the Towers; she had had a momentary mental -vision of silky damask and of sparkling crystal, of intelligent -conversation and of cultured voices, and the temptation had -proved irresistible. The meek man lives in history by his -hasty word, the truthful man's lie echoes on throughout the -ages; the sin that is in opposition to our character, and to -the resolutions of a lifetime, stands out before all the world -with hideous distinctness. So in the very nature of things, -if Mona had gone to Borrowness, as she might have done, -armed with introductions to all the county families in the -neighbourhood, Rachel would have felt herself less injured -than by that single lunch at the Ewings'. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, I will order the things at Donald's," said Mona, -after an awkward silence. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes; tell him I'll take the shortbread in any case, but -I'll only take the cookies if my visitors come." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, then they have not accepted yet?" -</p> - -<p> -"No." -</p> - -<p> -"Then I need not have distressed myself," thought Mona, -"for they certainly won't come." But she was annoyed all -the same that Rachel should have subjected herself to the -unnecessary snub of a refusal. -</p> - -<p> -The refusal arrived that evening. It was worded with -bare civility. They "regretted that they were unable," but -they did not think it necessary to explain why they were -unable. -</p> - -<p> -Rachel was very cross about the slight to herself, but she -was not at all disheartened about her plan. One trump-card -was thrown away, but she still held the king and the ace; -the king was Mona's "tocher," and the ace was Mr Brown -himself. The original damp box of plants had been followed -by a number of others, and these had latterly been hailed by -Rachel with much keener delight than they had afforded to -Mona. Mr Brown was all right; there could be no shadow -of doubt about that; and Rachel would not allow herself to -fancy for a moment that Mona might be so blind to a sense -of her own interests as to side with the Misses Brown. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap37"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXXVII. -<br /><br /> -THE ALGÆ AND FUNGI. -</h3> - -<p> -The bazaar as an institution is played out. There can -certainly be no two opinions about that. It has lived through -a youth of humble usefulness, a middle life of gorgeous -magnificence, and it is now far gone in an old age of decrepitude -and shams. It has attained the elaboration and complexity -which are incompatible with farther existence, and it must -die. The cup of its abuses and iniquities is full. It has -had its day; let it follow many things better than -itself—great kingdoms, mighty systems—into the region of the -things that have been and are not. -</p> - -<p> -Yet even where the bazaar is already dead, we all seem to -combine, sorely against our will, to keep the old mummy on -its feet. Nor is the reason for our inconsistency far to seek. -The bazaar <i>knows its world</i>; there is scarcely a human -weakness—a weakness either for good or for evil—to which it -does not appeal; so it dies hard, and, in spite of ourselves, -we cherish it to the last. -</p> - -<p> -How we hate it! How the very appearance of its name -in print fills our minds with reminiscences of nerve-strain, -and boredom, and shameless persecution! -</p> - -<p> -This being so, it is a matter of profound regret to me that -a bazaar should appear at all in the pages of my story; but -it is bound up inextricably with the course of events, so I -must beg my readers to bear up as best they may. -</p> - -<p> -"My dear," said Rachel, coming into the shop one day, -eager and breathless, "I have got a piece of news for you -to-day. The Miss Bonthrons want you to help them with -their stall at the bazaar! It seems they have been quite -taken with your manner in the shop, and they think you'll -be far more use than one of those dressed-up fusionless things -that only want to amuse themselves, and don't know what's -left if you take three-and-sixpence from the pound. Of -course they are very glad, too, that you should have the -ploy. I told them I was sure you would be only too -delighted. They were asking if there was no word of your -being baptised and joining the church yet." -</p> - -<p> -Mona bent low over her account-book, and it was a full -minute before she replied. Her first impulse was to refuse -the engagement altogether; her second was to accept with -an indignant protest; her third and last was to accept -without a word. If she had been doomed to spend a lifetime -with Rachel, things would have been different; as it was, -there were not three more months of the appointed time to -run. For those months she must do her very utmost to -avoid all cause of offence. -</p> - -<p> -"I think a bazaar is the very last thing I am fitted -for," she said quietly; "but, if you have settled it with -the Bonthrons, I suppose there is nothing more to be -said." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, you'll manage fine, I'm sure. There's no doubt -you've a gift for that kind of thing. I can tell you there's -many a one would be glad to stand in your shoes. You'll -see you'll get all your meals in the refreshment-room for -nothing, and a ticket for the ball as well." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't mean to go to the ball." -</p> - -<p> -"Hoots, lassie, you'll never stay away when the ticket -costs you nothing! I am thinking I might go myself, -perhaps, to take care of you, like. It'll be a grand sight, -they say, and it's not often I get the chance of wearing my -green silk." -</p> - -<p> -Again the infinite pathos of this woman, with all her -vulgar, disappointed little ambitions, took Mona's heart by -storm, as it had done on the night of her arrival at -Borrowness; and a gentle answer came unbidden to her lips. -</p> - -<p> -That afternoon, however, she considered herself fully -entitled to set off and drink tea with Auntie Bell, and -Rachel raised no objection when she suggested the idea. -</p> - -<p> -"I would be glad if you would do a little business for me, -as you pass through Kilwinnie," she said. -</p> - -<p> -"I will, with pleasure." -</p> - -<p> -"Just go into Mr Brown's," she said, "and ask him if he -still has green ribbon like what he sold me for my bonnet -last year. The strings are quite worn out. I think a yard -and a half should do. I'll give you a pattern." -</p> - -<p> -Mona fervently wished that the bit of business could have -been transacted in any other shop, but it would not do to -draw back from her promise now. -</p> - -<p> -As she passed along the high street of Kilwinnie, she saw -Miss Brown's face at the window above the shop, and she -bowed as she crossed the street. Mr Brown was engaged -with another customer, so Mona went up to the young man -at the opposite counter, thankful to escape so easily. But -it was no use. In the most barefaced way Mr Brown -effected an exchange of customers, and came up to her, his -solemn face all radiant with sudden pleasure. His eyes, -like those of a faithful dog, more than atoned at times for -his inability to speak. -</p> - -<p> -"How is Miss Simpson?" he asked. This was his one -idea of making a beginning. -</p> - -<p> -"She is very well, thank you," and Mona proceeded at -once with the business in hand. -</p> - -<p> -They had just settled the question, when, to Mona's -infinite relief, Miss Brown tripped down the stair leading -into the shop. -</p> - -<p> -"Won't you come up-stairs and rest for ten minutes, Miss -Maclean?" she said. "We are having an early cup of tea. -No, no, Philip, we don't want you. Gentlemen have no -business with afternoon tea." -</p> - -<p> -Mona could not have told what induced her to accept the -invitation. She certainly did not wish to do it. Perhaps -she was glad to escape on any terms from those pathetic -brown eyes. -</p> - -<p> -Mr Brown's face fell, then brightened again. -</p> - -<p> -"Perhaps while you are talking, you will arrange for -another walk," he said. -</p> - -<p> -Mona followed Miss Brown up the dark little stair into -the house, and they entered the pleasant sitting-room. The -ladies of the house received their visitor cordially, and -proceeded to entertain her with conversation, which seemed -to be friendly, if it was neither <i>spirituel</i> nor very -profound. Presently it turned on the subject of -husband-hunting. -</p> - -<p> -"Now, Miss Maclean," said one, "would you call my -brother an attractive man?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona was somewhat taken aback by the directness of the -question. -</p> - -<p> -"I never thought of him in that connection," she answered -honestly. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, you know, he is not a marrying man at all. Anybody -can see that; and yet you would not believe me if I -were to tell you the number of women who have set their -caps at him. Any other man would have his head turned -completely; but he never seems to see it. We get the laugh -all to ourselves." -</p> - -<p> -"Clever as he is," put in another sister, "he is a regular -simpleton where women are concerned. He treats them -just as if they were men, and of course they take advantage -of it, and get him talked about and laughed at." -</p> - -<p> -"We tell him it really is too silly," said the third, "that, -after all his experience, he should not know how to take care -of himself." -</p> - -<p> -Mona turned very pale, but she answered thoughtfully. -</p> - -<p> -"When you asked me whether I considered if Mr Brown an -attractive man, I was inclined at first to say no; but what -you say of him crystallises my ideas somewhat. I think his -great attraction lies in the fact that he can meet women on -common ground, without regard to sex. He realises, -perhaps, that a woman may care for knowledge, and even for -friendship, as well as for a husband. I should not try to -change him, if I were you. His views may be peculiar here, -but they are not altogether uncommon among cultured -people." -</p> - -<p> -She said the last words gently, with a pleasant smile, and -then proceeded to put on her furs with an air of quiet -dignity that would not have discredited Lady Munro herself, -and that seemed to throw the Browns to an infinite -distance. -</p> - -<p> -It was some moments before any of them found voice. -</p> - -<p> -"Must you go?" said the eldest at last, somewhat feebly. -"Won't you take another cup of tea?" -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you very much, but I am on my way to drink -tea with Mrs Easson." -</p> - -<p> -"Queer homely body, isn't she?" said the second sister, -recovering herself. "She is your cousin, is she not?" -</p> - -<p> -"I am proud to say she is." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, we've never arranged about the walk," said the -youngest. "Any day next week that will suit you, will -suit me." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, thank you; I am afraid this wonderful bazaar is -going to absorb all our energies for some time to come. I -fear the walk will have to be postponed indefinitely." -</p> - -<p> -She shook hands graciously with her hostesses, and went -slowly down by the stair that opened on the street. -</p> - -<p> -"If I were five years younger," she said to her herself, -"I should be tempted to encourage Mr Brown, just the least -little bit in the world, and then——" -</p> - -<p> -But not even when Mona was a girl could she have been -tempted, for more than a moment, to avenge a petty wrong -at the expense of those great, sad eyes. -</p> - -<p> -Mr Brown had been looking out, and he came forward to -meet her, nervous, eager. -</p> - -<p> -"Have you arranged a day?" he asked. -</p> - -<p> -"No; I fear I am going to be very busy for the next few -weeks. It is very kind of you to suggest another walk. -Good-bye." -</p> - -<p> -She was unconscious that her whole manner and bearing -had changed in the last quarter of an hour, but he -felt it keenly, and guessed something of what had -happened. -</p> - -<p> -"Miss Maclean," he said hoarsely, grasping the hand she -tried to withdraw, "what do we want with one of them in -our walks? Come with me. Come up-stairs with me now, -and we'll tell them——" -</p> - -<p> -"I have stayed too long already," said Mona hastily; -"good-bye." And without trusting herself to look at him -again, she hurried away. -</p> - -<p> -Her cheeks were very bright, and her eyes suffused with -tears, as she continued her walk. -</p> - -<p> -"How disgraceful!" she kept repeating; "how disgraceful! -I must have been horribly to blame, or it never would -have come to this." -</p> - -<p> -But, as usual, before long her sense of the comic came to -her rescue. -</p> - -<p> -"Verily, my dear," she said, with a heavy sigh, "the -study of the <i>Algæ</i> and <i>Fungi</i> is a large one, and leads us -further than we anticipated." -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Auntie Bell would not have been the shrewd woman she -was, if she had not seen at a glance that something was -wrong with her darling; but she showed her sympathy by -hastily "masking the tea," and cutting great slices from a -home-made cake. -</p> - -<p> -"Eh, but ye're a sicht for sair een!" she said, as she -bustled in and out of the sitting-room. "I declare ye're -bonnier than iver i' that fur thing. Weel, hoo's a' wi' ye?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I am blooming, as you see. Rachel is well, too." -</p> - -<p> -"An' what w'y suld she no' be weel? She's no' i' the w'y -o' daein' onything that's like to mak' her ill, I fancy, eh? -Hae ye been efter the butterflies again wi' Maister Broon?" -</p> - -<p> -The unexpected question brought the tell-tale colour to -Mona's cheek. -</p> - -<p> -"No," she said, "I am not going any more. It is not the -weather for that sort of thing." -</p> - -<p> -"Na," said Auntie Bell tersely; "nor he isna the mon for -that sort o' thing. He's a guid mon, nae doot, an' a cliver, -they say, for a' he's sae quite an' sae canny, an' sae ta'en up -wi's beasts and things; but he's no' the mon for the like o' -you. Ye wadna tak' him, Mona?" -</p> - -<p> -"Dear Auntie Bell," said Mona abashed, "such a thing -never even occurred to me——" -</p> - -<p> -She did not add "until," but her honest face said it for -her. -</p> - -<p> -"He's no' been askin' ye?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, no," said Mona warmly, "and he never will. Can -a man and woman not go 'after the butterflies,' as you call -it, without thinking of love and marriage?" -</p> - -<p> -Auntie Bell's face was worth looking at. -</p> - -<p> -"I nae ken," she said grimly; "I hae ma doots." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, I assure you Mr Brown has not even mentioned -such a thing to me." -</p> - -<p> -Auntie Bell eyed her keenly through the gold spectacles, -but Mona did not flinch. -</p> - -<p> -"Then his sisters have," thought the old woman shrewdly. -"I'll gie them a piece o' ma mind the neist time I'm doun -the toun." -</p> - -<p> -Mona's visits were necessarily very short on these winter -afternoons, and as soon as tea was over she rose to go. -</p> - -<p> -"Are ye aye minded tae gang hame come Mairch?" said -Auntie Bell. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh yes, I cannot possibly stay longer." -</p> - -<p> -"What's to come o' the shop?" -</p> - -<p> -"I will look out for an intelligent young person to fill my -place." -</p> - -<p> -"Ay, ye may luik! Weel, I'll no' lift a finger tae gar ye -bide. Yon's no' the place for ye. But I nae ken hoo I'm -tae thole wi'oot the sicht o' yer bonny bricht een." -</p> - -<p> -"Dear Auntie Bell," said Mona affectionately, "you are -coming to see me, you know." -</p> - -<p> -"Me! hoot awa', lassie! It's a far cry tae Lunnon, an' -I'm ower auld tae traivel ma lane." -</p> - -<p> -They were standing by the open door, and the moonlight -fell full on the worn, eager face. -</p> - -<p> -"Then come with me when I go. I can't tell you how -pleased and proud I should be to have you." -</p> - -<p> -The old woman's face beamed. "Ay? My word! an' -ye'd tak' me in a first-cless cairriage, and treat me like a -queen, I'll be boun'. Mrs Dodds o' the neist fairm is aye -speirin' at me if I'll no' gang wi' the cheap trip tae Edinbury -for the New Year. I'll tell her I could gang a' the w'y tae -Lunnon, like a leddy, an' no' be the puirer for the ootin' by -ae bawbee." -</p> - -<p> -She executed a characteristic war-dance in the moonlight. -"Aweel," she resumed, with sudden gravity, "ye'll mind me -tae Rachel, and tell her auld Auntie Bell's as daft as iver!" -</p> - -<p> -"Well, you promised to dance at my wedding, you know," -and, waving her hand, Mona set off with a light, quick step. -</p> - -<p> -Her thoughts were very busy as she hastened along, but -her decision was made before she reached home. "I will -write a short note to Mr Brown to-night," she said, "and -tell him I find life too short for the study of the <i>Algæ</i> and -<i>Fungi</i>." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap38"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXXVIII. -<br /><br /> -THE BAZAAR. -</h3> - -<p> -It was the first day of the bazaar. -</p> - -<p> -The weather was mild and bright, and the whole town -wore an aspect of excitement. The interior of the hall was -not perhaps a vision of artistic harmony; the carping critic -might have seen in it a striking resemblance to the brilliant, -old-fashioned patchwork quilt which some good woman had -sent as her contribution, and which was now being subjected -to a fire of small wit and adverse criticism, in the process of -being raffled; but, to the inhabitants of the place, such a -sight was worth crossing the county to behold, and indeed, -at the worst, it was a bright and festive scene with its brave -bunting and festoons of evergreens. -</p> - -<p> -"Let Kirkstoun flourish!" was inscribed in letters of -holly along the front of the gallery, in which a very fair -brass band, accustomed apparently to performing in the open -air, was pouring forth jaunty and dashing national music, -which fell with much acceptance on well-balanced nerves. -</p> - -<p> -The bazaar had formally been declared open by the great -local patron, Sir Roderick Allison of Balnamora, and already -the crowd was so great that movement was becoming difficult. -Whatever Mona's feelings had been before the "function" -came on, she was throwing herself into it now with -heart and soul. All the day before she had been hard at -work, draping, arranging, vainly attempting to classify; and -the Bonthrons had many times found occasion to congratulate -themselves on their choice of an assistant. The good -ladies had very shyly offered to provide her with a dress -for the occasion,—"something a little brighter, you know, -than that you have on; not but what that's very nice and -useful." -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you very much," Mona had replied frankly. "I -should be very glad to accept your kind offer, but I have -something in London which I think will be suitable. I will -ask a friend to send it." -</p> - -<p> -So now she was looking radiant, in a gown that was quiet -enough too in its way, but which was so obviously a creation -that it excited the attention of every one who knew her. -</p> - -<p> -"She <i>does</i> look a lady!" said the Miss Bonthron with the -eyeglass. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, my dear," replied the one with the curls, "she -might have <i>been</i> a lady, if her father had lived. They say -he was quite a remarkable man, like his father before him. -Where would we be ourselves if Father had not laid by a -little property? I suppose it is all ordained for the best." -</p> - -<p> -"I call it simply ridiculous for a shop-girl to dress like -that," said Clarinda Cookson to her sister. "It is -frightfully bad taste. Anybody can see that she never had on a -dress like that in her life before. She means to make the -most of this bazaar. It is a great chance for her." -</p> - -<p> -Matilda bit her lip, and did not answer. By dint of long -effort, silence was becoming easier to her. -</p> - -<p> -And now none of the stall-holders had any leisure to -think of dress, for this was the time of day when the people -come who are really prepared to buy, independently of the -chance of a bargain; and money was pouring in. Mona -was hard at work, making calculations for her patronesses, -hunting for "something that would do for a gentleman," -sympathising with the people who were strongly attracted -by a few, and a few things only, on her stall, and those the -articles that were ticketed "sold,"—striving, in short, for -the moment, to be all things to all men. -</p> - -<p> -She felt that day as if she had received a fresh lease of -youth. Nothing came amiss to her. She was the life and -soul of her corner of the hall, much to the delight of Doris, -who, fair, serene, and sweet, was watching her friend in -every spare moment from the adjoining stall. Perhaps the -main cause conducing to Mona's good spirits was the fact -that Rachel was confined to the house with a cold. Mona -was honestly and truly sorry for her cousin's disappointment; -she would gladly have borne the cold and confinement -vicariously; but as that was impossible—well, it was -pleasant for a day or two to be responsible only for her -bright young self. -</p> - -<p> -In a surprisingly short time the ante-prandial rush was -over, and there was a comparative lull, during which -stall-holders could compare triumphant notes, or even steal away -to the refreshment-room. But now there was a sudden stir -and bustle at the door. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, I declare," exclaimed Miss Bonthron eagerly, "if -this is not the party from the Towers!" -</p> - -<p> -The two great local magnates of the neighbourhood were -Sir Roderick Allison of Balnamora and Lord Kirkhope of -the Towers. Sir Roderick, in his capacity of member for -the eastern part of the county, took an interest in all that -went on in the place; and although his presence at public -gatherings was always considered a great honour, it was -treated very much as a matter of course. The Kirkhopes, on -the other hand, lived a frivolous, fashionable, irresponsible -life; acknowledged no duties to their social inferiors, and were -content to show their public spirit by permitting an occasional -flower-show in their grounds; so, if on any occasion -they did go out of their way to grace a local festivity, their -presence was considered an infinitely greater triumph than -was that of good bluff Sir Roderick. The parable of the -prodigal son is of very wide application; and, where humanity -only is concerned, its interpretation is sometimes a very -sinister one. -</p> - -<p> -Lady Kirkhope had filled her house with a large party of -people for the Christmas holidays; and some sudden freak -had induced her to bring a number of them in to the -Kirkstoun Bazaar, just as a few months earlier she had taken -her guests to the fair at St Rules, to see the fat woman and -the girl with two heads. "Anything for a lark!" she used -to say, and it might have been well if all the amusements -with which she sought to while away her sojourn in the -country had been as rational as these. As it was, good, -staid country-people found it a little difficult sometimes to -see exactly wherein the "lark" consisted. Even this fact, -however, tended rather to increase than to diminish the -excitement with which the great lady's arrival was greeted -at the bazaar. -</p> - -<p> -Mona, not being a native, was but little interested in the -new-comers, save from a money-making point of view; and -she was leaning idly against the wall, half-smiling at the -commotion the event had caused, when all at once her heart -gave a leap, and the blood rushed madly over her face. -Within twenty yards of her, in Lady Kirkhope's party, -chatting and laughing, as he used to do in the good old days, -stood the Sahib. There was no doubt about it. A correct -morning dress had taken the place of the easy tweeds and -the old straw hat, but the round, brotherly, boyish face was -the same as ever. The very sight of it called up in Mona's -mind a flood of happy reminiscences, as did the friendly -face of the moon above the chimney-pots to the home-sick -author of <i>Bilderbuch</i>. -</p> - -<p> -Oh, it was good to see him again! For one moment -Mona revelled in the thought of all they would have to say -to each other, and then—— -</p> - -<p> -"My dear," said Miss Bonthron, "I think you have some -little haberdashery-cases like this in your shop. How much -do you think we might ask for it?" -</p> - -<p> -Like the "knocking at the door in <i>Macbeth</i>," the words -brought Mona back to a world of prose realities. With -swift relentless force the recollection rushed upon her mind -that the Sahib had come with the "county people" to -honour the bazaar with his presence; while she was a poor -little shop-girl, who had been asked to assist, partly as a -great treat, and partly because of her skill in subtracting -three-and-sixpence from the pound. -</p> - -<p> -"Half-a-crown we price them. I think you might say three -shillings here," she said, smiling; but deep down in her mind -she was thinking, "Oh, I hope, I hope he won't notice me! -Doris is bad enough, but picture the Sahib in the shop!" She -broke into a little laugh that was half a sob, and her -eyes looked suspiciously bright. -</p> - -<p> -"Mona," said Doris, coming up to her suddenly, "somebody -is looking very charming to-day, do you know?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," said Mona boldly, flashing back the compliment in -an admiring glance; "I have been thinking so all morning, -whenever intervening crowds allowed me to catch a glimpse -of her." -</p> - -<p> -"I have been longing so to say to all the room, 'Do you -see that bright young thing? She is a medical student!'" -</p> - -<p> -"Pray don't!" said Mona, horrified. "My cousin would -never forgive you—nor, indeed, for the matter of that, should -I. How are you getting on?" -</p> - -<p> -"My dear," was the reply, "I have sold more rubbish this -morning than I ever even saw before. After all, the secret -of success at bazaars lies solely in the fact that there is no -accounting for taste!" -</p> - -<p> -At this moment a customer claimed Mona's attention, and, -when she looked up again, Doris was in earnest conversation -with an elderly gentleman. Mona overheard something about -"women's power." -</p> - -<p> -"Women," was the reply, delivered with a courteous bow, -"have no power, they have only influence." -</p> - -<p> -Doris flushed, then said serenely, "We won't dispute it. -Influence is the soul, of which power is the outward form." -</p> - -<p> -How sweet she looked as she stood there, her flower-like -face uplifted, her dimpled chin in air, shy yet defiant! Mona -thought she had never seen her friend look so charming, so -utterly unlike everybody else. A moment later she perceived -that she was not alone in her admiration. Unconscious that -he was observed, a man stood a few yards off, listening to the -conversation with a comical expression of amused, admiring -interest; and that man was the Sahib. -</p> - -<p> -Take your eyes off him, Mona, Mona, if you do not wish to -be recognised! Too late! A wave of sunlight rushed across -his face, kindling his homely features into a glow that -gladdened Mona's heart, and swept away all her hesitation. -Verily she could trust this man, whom all women looked -upon as a brother. -</p> - -<p> -He resolutely dismissed the sunshine from his face, -however, as he came up and shook hands. He could not deny -that he was glad to see her, but nothing could alter the fact -that she had treated him very badly. -</p> - -<p> -"I called on you in London," he said in an injured tone, -after their first greetings had been exchanged, "but it was a -case of 'Gone; no address.'" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I am sorry," said Mona. "It never occurred to me -that you would call." -</p> - -<p> -He looked at her sharply. Her regret was so manifest -that he could not doubt her sincerity; and yet it was difficult -sometimes to believe that she was not playing fast and -loose. It was not as if she were an ordinary girl, ready to -flirt with any man she met. Was it likely, after all they had -said to each other in Norway, that he would let her slip out -of his life without a protest? Was it possible that the -idea of his calling upon her in London had never crossed -her mind? -</p> - -<p> -Mona was very far from guessing his thoughts. Strong -in the conviction that she was not a "man's woman," she -expected little from men, and counted little on what they -appeared to give. She had a feeling of warm personal -friendship for the Sahib, but it had never occurred to her to -wonder what his feeling might be for her. Had they met -after a separation of ten years, she would have welcomed -with pleasure the cordial grasp of his hand; but that in the -meantime he should go out of his way to see her, simply, as -she said, never crossed her mind. -</p> - -<p> -"Who would have thought of meeting you at a bazaar?" -he said. -</p> - -<p> -"It is I who should have said that. But, in truth, I am -not here by any wish of my own. The arrangement was -made for me. I should have looked forward to it with more -pleasure if I had known I was to meet you." -</p> - -<p> -His face brightened. "It is my turn now to protest that -it is I who should have said that! My hostess brought a -party of us. I am helping to spend Christmas in the old -style at the Towers. Where are you staying, or have you -just come over for the function?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona's heart sank. "No; I am visiting a cousin in the -neighbourhood." -</p> - -<p> -"Then I hope I may give myself the pleasure of calling. -Have you had lunch?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not yet." -</p> - -<p> -"That is right. I am sure you can be spared for the next -quarter of an hour." -</p> - -<p> -Mona introduced him to Miss Bonthron as a "family -friend," and then took his arm. Now that they had met, no -ridiculous notions of propriety should prevent their seeing -something of each other. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you know Lady Kirkhope?" he asked, as he piloted -the way through the hall. -</p> - -<p> -"No. I had better tell you at once that I am not in the -least likely to know her; I——" -</p> - -<p> -"Lady Kirkhope," said the Sahib suddenly, stopping in -front of a vivacious dame, "I am sure you will be glad -to make the acquaintance of Miss Maclean. She is the -daughter of Gordon Maclean, of whom we were talking last -evening." -</p> - -<p> -"Then I am proud to shake hands with her," said the -lady graciously. "There are very few men, Miss Maclean, -whom I admire as I did your father." -</p> - -<p> -A few friendly words followed, and then the Sahib and -Mona continued their way. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, Mr Dickinson," said Mona, when they had reached -the large refreshment-room, and were seated in a deserted -corner, "what <i>have</i> you done?" -</p> - -<p> -"Well, what have I done!" said the Sahib, in good-humoured -mystification. "I ought to have asked your permission -before introducing you in a place like this; but Lady -Kirkhope is not at all particular in that sort of way, and we -met her so <i>à propos</i>. I am sure you would not mind if you -knew how she spoke of your father." -</p> - -<p> -"It is not that." Mona drew a long breath. "It is not -your fault in the least, but I don't think any human being -was ever placed in such a false position as I am." She -hesitated. When she had first seen the glad friendly smile -on the Sahib's face, she had fancied it would be so easy to -tell him the whole story; but now the situation seemed so -absurd, so grotesque, so impossible, that she could not find -words. -</p> - -<p> -"Mr Dickinson," she said at last, "Lady Munro really is -my aunt." -</p> - -<p> -"She appears to be under a strong impression to that effect." -</p> - -<p> -"And Gordon Maclean was my father." -</p> - -<p> -"So I have heard." -</p> - -<p> -"And my mother, Miss Lennox, was a lady whom any -one would have been glad to know." -</p> - -<p> -"That I can answer for!" -</p> - -<p> -"But I never told you all that? I never traded on my -relatives or even spoke of them?" -</p> - -<p> -"I scarcely need to answer that question. Your exordium -is striking, but don't keep me in suspense longer than -you can help." -</p> - -<p> -Mona did not join in his smile. -</p> - -<p> -"All that," she said with a great effort, "is true; and it -is equally true that at the present moment I am living with -a cousin who keeps a small shop at Borrowness. I have -been asked to sell at this bazaar simply because—<i>c'est mon -mètier, à moi</i>. I ought to do it well. Now you know why -I did not wish to be introduced to Lady Kirkhope." -</p> - -<p> -It was a full minute before the Sahib spoke, and then his -answer was characteristic. -</p> - -<p> -"What on earth," he asked, "do you do it for?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona was herself again in a moment. -</p> - -<p> -"Why do I do it?" she said proudly. "Why should I -not do it? My cousin has as much claim on me as the -Munros have, and she needs me a great deal more. If I -must stand or fall by my relatives, I choose to fall with -Rachel Simpson rather than to stand with Lady Munro." -</p> - -<p> -She rose to go, but he caught her hand. -</p> - -<p> -"You said once that you had no wish to measure your -strength against mine," he said, in a low voice. "I don't -mean to let you go, so perhaps you had better sit down. It -would be a pity to have a scene." -</p> - -<p> -"Let my hand go in any case." -</p> - -<p> -"Honest Injun?" -</p> - -<p> -She yielded unwillingly with a laugh. -</p> - -<p> -"Honest Injun," she said. "As we are here, I will stay -for ten minutes," and she laid her watch on the table. -</p> - -<p> -"That is right. I never knew any difficulty that was -made easier by refusing to eat one's lunch." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't admit that I am in any difficulty, and your way, -too, is clear." She made a movement of her head in the -direction of the door. "I am only sorry that you did not -give me a chance to tell you all this before you introduced -me to Lady Kirkhope. If I had known you were coming, I -should have given you a hint to avoid me." -</p> - -<p> -"Miss Maclean," he said, "will you allow me to say that -you are a little bit morbid?" -</p> - -<p> -She met his eyes with a frank full glance from her own. -</p> - -<p> -"That is true," she said, with sudden conviction. -</p> - -<p> -"And for a woman like you to see that you are morbid is -to cease to be morbid." -</p> - -<p> -"I am sure I don't want to be; but indeed it is so difficult -to see what is simple and right. I have often smiled to -think how I told you in summer, that the 'great, puzzling -subject of compromise' had never come into my life." -</p> - -<p> -"You said on the same occasion, if I remember rightly, -that my life was infinitely franker and more straightforward -than yours. I presume you don't say so still?" -</p> - -<p> -"I do, with all my heart." -</p> - -<p> -"H'm. Do you think it likely that I would go routing -up poor relations for the pleasure of devoting myself -exclusively to their society?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona's face flushed. "Mr Dickinson," she said, "I ought -to tell you that I arranged to come to my cousin before I -met the Munros. I don't say that I should not have done -it in any case, but I made the arrangement at a time when, -with many friends, I was practically alone in the world. -And also,"—she thought of Colonel Lawrence's story,—"even -apart from the Munros, if I had known all that I -know now, about circumstances in the past, I am not sure -that I should have come at all. That is all my heroics are -worth." -</p> - -<p> -"You are a magnificently honest woman." -</p> - -<p> -"I am not quite sure that I am not the greatest humbug -that ever lived. Two minutes more. Do you bear in mind -that Lady Kirkhope said she would call on me?" -</p> - -<p> -"I will see to that. Am I forgiven for introducing you -to her?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona smiled. "I shall take my revenge by introducing -you to a much greater woman, my friend Doris Colquhoun." -</p> - -<p> -"When am I to meet you again? May I call?" -</p> - -<p> -"No." -</p> - -<p> -"How do you get home to-night?" -</p> - -<p> -"Miss Bonthron sends me in a cab." -</p> - -<p> -"Shall you be at the ball?" -</p> - -<p> -"No." -</p> - -<p> -"You can easily get a good chaperon?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh yes." -</p> - -<p> -"Will you go to the ball if I ask it as a personal favour -to me?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona reflected. "I don't see why I should not," she -said simply. -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you. And in the meantime, Miss Maclean, don't -be in too great a hurry to stand or fall with anybody. You -have not only yourself to think of, you know; we are all -members one of another. And now behold your prey! -Take me to your stall, and I will buy whatever you like." -</p> - -<p> -The Sahib was not the only victim who yielded himself -up unreservedly to Mona's tender mercies that day. Mr -Brown came to the bazaar in the afternoon with a five-pound -note in his pocket, and something more than four pound ten -was spent at Miss Bonthron's stall. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap39"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXXIX. -<br /><br /> -THE BALL. -</h3> - -<p> -A spacious hall with a well-waxed floor; a profusion of -coloured lights and hothouse plants; a small string-band -capable of posing any healthy, human thing under twenty-three -with the reiterated query, "Where are the joys like -dancing?"—all these things may be had on occasion, even -in an old-world fishing town on the bleak east coast. -</p> - -<p> -For youth is youth, thank heaven! over all the great -wide world; and the sturdy, sonsy northern girl, in her -spreading gauzy folds of white or blue, is as desirable in the -eyes of the shy young clerk, in unaccustomed swallow-tails, -as is the languid, dark-eyed daughter of the South to her -picturesque impassioned lover. Nay, the awkward sheepish -youth himself, he too is young, and, for some blue-eyed girl, -his voice may have the irresistible cadence, his touch the -magnetic thrill, that Romeo's had for Juliet. -</p> - -<p> -So do not, I pray you, despise my provincial ball, because -the dancing falls short alike in the grace of constant habit -and in the charm of absolute <i>naïveté</i>. The room is all aglow -with youth and life and excitement. One must be a cynic -indeed not to take pleasure in that. There is something -beautiful too, surely, even in the proud self-consciousness -with which the "Provost's lady" steps out to head the first -quadrille with good Sir Roderick, and in the shy delight -with which portly dames, at the bidding of grey-haired sires, -forget the burden of years, and renew the days of their -youth. -</p> - -<p> -At Doris's earnest request, Mona had come to the ball -with her party, for of course the Bonthrons disapproved of -the whole proceeding. Rachel had insisted on going to the -bazaar on the last day, to see the show and pick up a few -bargains; and, as the hall was overheated, and nothing would -induce her to remove her magnificent fur-lined cloak, she had -caught more cold on returning to the open air. Mona had -offered very cordially to stay at home with her on the night -of the ball; but Rachel had been sufficiently ill to read two -sermons in the course of the day; and, in the fit of -magnanimity naturally consequent on such occupation, she had -stoutly and kindly refused to listen to a proposal which -seemed to her more generous than it really was. -</p> - -<p> -It was after ten when the party from the Towers entered -the brilliant, resounding, whirling room. The Sahib had -half expected that Lady Kirkhope, in her pursuit of a "lark," -would accompany them; but she "drew the line," she said, -"at dancing with the grocer," so a few of the gentlemen -went alone. There was a good deal of amusement among -them as they drove down in the waggonette, on the subject -of the partners they might reasonably expect; and it was -with no small pride that the Sahib introduced them to Doris -and Mona. -</p> - -<p> -Mona wore the gown in which Lucy had said she looked -like an empress. It was not suitable for dancing, but she -did not mean to dance; and certainly she in her rich velvet, -and Doris in her shimmering silk, were a wondrous contrast -to most of the showily dressed matrons and gauzy girls. -</p> - -<p> -Doris as usual was very soon the quiet little centre of an -admiring group; and even Mona, who had come solely to -look on, and to enjoy a short chat with the Sahib, received -an amount of attention that positively startled her when she -thought of her "false position." -</p> - -<p> -Of course she was pleased. It seemed like a fairy tale, -that almost within a mile of the shop she should be received -so naturally as a lady and a woman of the world; but, in -point of fact, the Cooksons and Mrs Ewing were the only -people who knew that she was Miss Simpson's assistant. -Her regular <i>clientèle</i> was of too humble a class socially to be -represented at the ball; her acquaintances in the neighbourhood -were limited almost entirely to Rachel's friends and the -members of the Baptist Chapel,—two sections of the -community which were not at all likely to give support to such -a festivity; and even people who had seen her repeatedly in -her everyday surroundings, failed to recognise her in this -handsome woman who had come to the ball with a very -select party from St Rules. -</p> - -<p> -Matilda glowed with triumph as she watched her friend -move in a sphere altogether above her own; she longed to -proclaim to every one how she had known all the time that -Miss Maclean was a princess in disguise. How aghast -Clarinda would be at her own stupidity, and with what -shame she would recall her pointless sarcasms—Clarinda, -who that very evening had said, she at least gave the shop-girl -the credit of believing that the lace was imitation and -the pearls false. -</p> - -<p> -The night was wearing on, and Mona was sitting out a -galop with Captain Steele, a handsome middle-aged man, -whom the Sahib had introduced to her. They were conversing -in a gay, frivolous strain, and Mona was reflecting -how much easier it is to be entertaining in the evening if -one has not been studying hard all day. -</p> - -<p> -"Are you expecting any one?" asked the Captain -suddenly. -</p> - -<p> -"No; why do you ask?" -</p> - -<p> -"You look up so eagerly whenever a new arrival is -ushered in." -</p> - -<p> -"Do I? It must be automatic. I scarcely know any one -here." -</p> - -<p> -But she coloured slightly as she spoke. His question -made her conscious for the first time of a wish away down -in the depths of her heart—a wish that Dr Dudley would -come and see her small success. He had seen her under -such very different conditions; he might arrive now any day -in Borrowness for the Christmas holidays; why should he -not be here to-night? It was surely an innocent little wish -as wishes go; but on discovery it was treated ignominiously -with speedy and relentless eviction; and Mona gave all the -attention she could spare from the Captain's discourse to -watching Doris and the Sahib. -</p> - -<p> -Poor little wish! Take a regret along with you. You -were futile and vain, for Dudley had a sufficiently just -estimate of his capabilities to abstain at all times from dancing; -and at that moment, with fur cap over his eyes, he was sleeping -fitfully in the night express; and yet perhaps you were -a wise little wish, and how different things might have been -if you could have been realised! -</p> - -<p> -The wish was gone, however, and Mona was watching her -friends. A woman must be plain indeed if she is not to look -pretty in becoming evening dress; and Doris, in her soft -grey silk, looked like a Christmas rose in the mists of winter. -She was talking brightly and eagerly, and the Sahib was -listening with a smile that made his homely face altogether -delightful. Mona wondered whether in all his honest life he -had ever looked at any other woman with just that light in -his eyes. "What a lucky man he will be who wins my -Doris!" she said to herself; and close upon that thought -came another. "They say matchmakers are apt to defeat -their own ends, but if one praises the woman to the man, -and abuses the man to the woman, one must at least be -working in the right direction." -</p> - -<p> -With a burst of harmony the band began a new waltz. -</p> - -<p> -"Our dance, Miss Maclean," said the Sahib, coming up to -her. "We are going to wander off to some far-away -committee-room and swop confidences." -</p> - -<p> -"It sounds nice, but my confidences are depressing." -</p> - -<p> -"So are mine rather. Do you like this part of the world?" -</p> - -<p> -"Do I like myself, in other words? Not much." -</p> - -<p> -"Don't be philosophical. When all is said, there is nothing -like gossip. I don't like this part of the world; in -fact, I don't know myself in it; it is a fast, frivolous, -imbecile world!" -</p> - -<p> -"Socially speaking, I presume, not geographically. At -least, those are not strictly the adjectives I should apply to -my surroundings. How come you to be in such a world?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I met Kirkhope a few years ago. He was indulging -in a fashionable run across India, and he ran up against -me. I was able to put him up to a thing or two, and last -month when I met him in Edinburgh, he invited me down. -In a weak moment I accepted his invitation, and now you -see Fortune has been kinder to me than I deserve." -</p> - -<p> -"I saw you in Edinburgh as I went through one day," -said Mona, and she told him she had been disappointed not -to be able to speak to him at the station. -</p> - -<p> -"How very disgusting!" he said. "Yes, Edinburgh is -my home—my father's, at least." -</p> - -<p> -"And had you never met Doris before I introduced you -to her?" -</p> - -<p> -The Sahib did not answer for a moment. -</p> - -<p> -"I had not been introduced. I had seen her. Hers is -not a face that one forgets." -</p> - -<p> -"And yet it only gives a hint of all that lies behind it. -You might travel from Dan to Beersheba without finding -such a gloriously unselfish woman, and such a perfect child -of Nature." -</p> - -<p> -"She is delightfully natural and unaffected. I think that -is her great charm. What sort of man is Colquhoun? Of -course every one knows him by name." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes; he is very near the top of the tree in his profession. -He is a scientist, too, but in that capacity he is a -trifle—pathetic. Shall you call when you go back?" -</p> - -<p> -"I have obtained permission to do so." -</p> - -<p> -"You would do me a personal favour if you would enter -into his scientific fads a little. Dear lovable old man! You -will have to laugh in your sleeve pretty audibly before he -suspects that you are doing it." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't think I shall feel at all inclined to. Is Miss -Colquhoun a scientist too?" -</p> - -<p> -"She is something better. She loves a dog because it is a -dog, a worm because it is a worm. Science must stand cap -in hand before such genuine inborn love of Nature as hers." -</p> - -<p> -Again there was a pause before the Sahib answered. Then -he roused himself suddenly. -</p> - -<p> -"It seems to me, Miss Maclean, that you are shirking your -part of the bargain. I have confided to you how it is I come -to be here. It is your innings now." -</p> - -<p> -Mona sighed. -</p> - -<p> -"When I last saw you, you were a burning and shining -medical light. Wherefore the bushel?" -</p> - -<p> -"That is right. Strike hard at the root of my <i>amour -propre</i>. It is good for me, though I wince. I am here, -Sahib, mainly because I failed twice in my Intermediate -Medicine examination." -</p> - -<p> -Another of the Sahib's characteristic pauses. -</p> - -<p> -"How on earth did you contrive to do it?" he asked at -last. "When one sees the duffers of men that pass——" -</p> - -<p> -The colour on Mona's cheek deepened. "I don't think a -very large proportion of duffers pass the London University -medical examinations," she said. "Of course one makes -excuses for one's self. One began hospital work too soon; -one's knowledge was on a plane altogether above the level of -the examination papers, &c. It is only in moments of rare -and exceptional honesty that one says, as I say to you now, -'I failed because I was a duffer, and did not know my -work.'" -</p> - -<p> -"Nay, you don't catch me with chaff. That is not the -truth, and you don't think it is. I don't call that honesty!" -</p> - -<p> -But although the Sahib spoke harshly, his heart was beating -very warmly towards her just then. He had always -considered Mona a clever and charming girl—a little too -independent, perhaps, but her habitual independence made it the -more delightful to see her submitting like a child to his -questions, holding herself bound apparently for the moment -to answer honestly without fencing, however much the effort -might cost her. -</p> - -<p> -"It is the truth, and nothing but the truth." she said. -"I venture sometimes to think it is not the whole truth." -</p> - -<p> -"Shall you go in again?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"When?" -</p> - -<p> -"July." -</p> - -<p> -"Do you think you will pass?" -</p> - -<p> -"No." -</p> - -<p> -"Then why do you do it?" -</p> - -<p> -"I have promised." -</p> - -<p> -Another long pause, and then it came unpremeditatedly -with a rush. -</p> - -<p> -"Look here, Miss Maclean,—chuck the whole thing, and -come back to India with me!" -</p> - -<p> -It was so absolutely unexpected, that for a moment Mona -thought it was a joke. "That would be a delightfully -simple way of cutting the knot of the difficulty," she said -gaily, but before her sentence was finished she saw what he -meant. She tried not to see it, not to show that she saw it, -but the blood rushed over her face and betrayed her. -</p> - -<p> -"Do come," he said. "Will you? I never cared for any -woman as I care for you." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, Sahib," said Mona, "we cared for each other, but -not in that way. You have taught me all I have missed in -not having a brother." -</p> - -<p> -She was not sorry for him; she was intensely annoyed at -his stupidity. Not for a moment did it occur to her that -he might really love her. He liked her, of course, admired -her, sympathised with her, at the present moment pitied -her; but did he really suppose that a woman might not -gladly accept his friendship, admiration, sympathy, even his -pity, without wishing to have it all translated into the -vulgar tangible coin of an offer of marriage? Was marriage -for a woman, like money for a beggar, the sole standard by -which all good feeling was to be tried? -</p> - -<p> -She was not altogether at fault in her reading of his -mind. The Sahib's sister Lena was engaged to be married, -and he had started on his furlough with a vague general -idea that if he could fall in love and take a wife back with -him to India, it would be a very desirable thing. Such an -idea is as good a preventive to falling in love as any that -could be devised. -</p> - -<p> -Among the girls he had met, Miss Maclean was undoubtedly -<i>facile princeps</i>. In many respects she was cut out for -the position; she was one of those women who acquire a -lighter hand in conversation as they grow older, and who go -on mellowing to a rich matronly maturity. In Anglo-Indian -society she would be something entirely new, and three -months in her own drawing-room would make a brilliant -woman of her. -</p> - -<p> -During all the autumn months, while he was shooting in -Scotland, the Sahib had delighted in the thought that he -was deliberately keeping away from her, and had delighted -still more in the prospect of going "all by himself" to call -upon her in London, to see whether the old impressions -would be renewed in their full force. He had been bitterly -angry and disappointed when he failed to find her at Gower -Street, but the failure had gone very far to convince him -that he really did love her. -</p> - -<p> -And now had come this curious unexpected meeting at -Kirkstoun. "Do you see that—person in the fur cloak?" -Mona had said to him when he had dropped in for half an -hour on the third day of the bazaar. "Don't be alarmed; -I don't mean to introduce you; but that is my cousin. -Now you know all that I can tell you." His momentary -start and look of incredulity had not been lost upon her; -but he had recovered himself in an instant, and had shown -sufficient sense not to attempt any remark. And in truth, -although he had been surprised and shocked, he had not -been greatly distressed. "After all," he had said, "anybody -could rake up a disreputable forty-second cousin from some -ash-heap or other;" and the existence of such a person, -together with Mona's breakdown in her medical career, -gave him a pleasant, though unacknowledged, sense of being -the knight in the fairy tale who is to deliver the captive -princess from all her woes. Moreover, Mona's peculiar -circumstances had brought about an intimacy between them -that might otherwise have been impossible. He had been -admitted into one of the less frequented chambers of her -nature, and he said to himself that it was a goodly chamber. -It was pleasant to see the colour rise into her cheeks, to -hear her breath come quick while she talked to him; and -to-night—to-night she looked very beautiful, and no shade -of doubt was left on his mind that he loved her. -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose you are the best judge of your feelings -towards me," he said coldly; "but you will allow me to -answer for mine." -</p> - -<p> -The Sahib was a good man, and a simple-hearted, but he -knew his own value, and it would have been strange if -Mona's reply had not surprised him. In fact he could only -account for it on one supposition, and that supposition made -him very angry and indignant. His next words were -natural, if unpardonable. Perhaps Mona's frankness was -spoiling him. -</p> - -<p> -"Tell me," he said sharply, "in the old Norway days, -when we saw so much of each other, was there some one -else then?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona drew herself up. "I do call that an insult," she -said quietly. "Do you suppose that every unmarried -woman is standing in the market-place waiting for a -husband? Is it impossible that a woman may prefer to remain -unmarried for the sake of all the work in the world that -only an unmarried woman can do?" -</p> - -<p> -The Sahib's face brightened visibly for a moment. Perhaps -it was true, after all, that this clever woman was more -of a child in some respects than half the flimsy damsels in -the ball-room. -</p> - -<p> -"Miss Maclean," he said, "bear with my dulness, and say -to me these five words, 'There is no one else.'" -</p> - -<p> -Mona lifted her honest eyes. -</p> - -<p> -"There is no one else," she said simply. -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you. Then if my sole rival is the work that only -an unmarried woman can do, I decline to accept your -answer." -</p> - -<p> -"Don't be foolish, Mr Dickinson," said Mona gently. -"You call me honest, and in this respect I am absolutely -honest. If there were the faintest shadow of a doubt in my -mind I would tell you. There are very few people in the -world whom I like and trust as I do you, but I would as -soon think of marrying Sir Douglas Munro. And you—you -are sacrificing yourself to your own chivalry. You want to -marry me because you are sorry for me, because I have -muddled my own life." -</p> - -<p> -"That is not true. My one objection to you is that you -are twice the man that I am." -</p> - -<p> -Mona laughed. "<i>Eh bien! L'un n'empêche pas l'autre</i>. -No, no; you are much too good a man to be thrown away -on a woman who only likes and trusts you." -</p> - -<p> -"When do you leave this place?" he asked doggedly. -</p> - -<p> -"In March." -</p> - -<p> -"And do you stop in Edinburgh on the way?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes; I have promised to spend a week with the -Colquhouns." -</p> - -<p> -"Good. I will ask you then again." -</p> - -<p> -"Dear Sahib," said Mona earnestly, "I have not spoilt -your life yet. Don't let me begin to spoil it now. You -cannot afford to waste even three months over a chivalrous -fancy. Put me out of your mind altogether, till you have -married a bright young thing full of enthusiasms, not a worn-out -old cynic like me. Then by-and-by, if she will let me be -her sister, you and I can be brother and sister again." -</p> - -<p> -"May I write to you during the next two months?" -</p> - -<p> -"I think it would be a great mistake." -</p> - -<p> -"Your will shall be law. But remember, I shall be -thinking of you constantly, and when you are in Edinburgh I will -come. Shall we go back to the ball-room?" He rose and -offered her his arm. -</p> - -<p> -"Mr Dickinson, I absolutely refuse to leave the question -open. What is the use?" -</p> - -<p> -"You will not do even that for me?" -</p> - -<p> -"It would be returning evil for good." -</p> - -<p> -"No matter. The results be on my own head!" -</p> - -<p> -They were back in the noise and glare of the ball-room, -and further conversation was impossible. -</p> - -<p> -"Who would have thought of meeting two charming <i>émancipées</i> -down here?" said Captain Steele, as the men drove -back to the Towers. -</p> - -<p> -"If all <i>émancipées</i> are like Miss Colquhoun," said a young -man with red hair and a retreating chin, "I will get a book -and go round canvassing for women's rights to-morrow!" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap40"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XL. -<br /><br /> -A LOCUM TENENS. -</h3> - -<p> -The excitement was over, and every one was suffering from -a profound reaction. Rachel's cold was no better, and her -temper was decidedly worse; for although the sermons still -lay on her table, both they and the illness that had brought -them into requisition had lost the charm of novelty. -However—like the ravages of drink in relation to the efforts of -temperance reformers—it was of course impossible to say -how much worse she might have been without them. -</p> - -<p> -Mona had by no means escaped the general depression -consequent on the bazaar and the ball, and her cousin's -querulousness was a heavy strain upon her endurance. -Fortunately, it had the effect of putting her on her mettle. "I -am certainly not fit to be a doctor," she thought, "if I -cannot bear and forbear in a simple little case like this." So -she went from shop to parlour, and from parlour to shop, -with a light step and a cheerful face, striving hard to keep -Rachel supplied with scraps of gossip that would amuse her -without tempting her to talk. -</p> - -<p> -"Mrs Smith has come to inquire for you," she said, as she -entered the close little sitting-room. "Do you think you -ought to see her? You know you made your chest worse -by talking to Mrs Anderson the other day." -</p> - -<p> -"And how am I to get well, I should like to know, mope, -mope, moping all by myself from morning till night? All -these blessed days I've sat here, while other folks were -gallivanting about taking their pleasure. It's easy for you to -say, 'Don't see her,' after all the ploy you've been having, -and all the folk you are seeing in the shop to-day." -</p> - -<p> -"Very well, I will bring her up; but do you let her talk, -and save your voice as much as you can." -</p> - -<p> -The interview was a long one, but it did not appear to -have the desired effect of improving Rachel's spirits. -</p> - -<p> -"Upon my word," she said, when the visitor had gone, -"I never knew anybody so close as you are. One would -think, after all the pleasure you've been having, while I've -been cooped up in the house, that you'd be glad to tell me -any bit of news." -</p> - -<p> -"Why, cousin," laughed Mona, "what else have I been -doing? I have even told you what everybody wore!" -</p> - -<p> -"The like of that!" said Rachel scornfully; "and you -never told me you got the word of her ladyship? I wonder -what Mrs Smith would think of me knowing nothing about -it?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona was puzzled for a moment. "Oh," she said suddenly, -"Lady Kirkhope! She only said a few words to me." -</p> - -<p> -"And how many would she say—the like of her to the -like of you! I suppose you think because your mother's -sister is married on a Sir, that their ladyships are as common -as gooseberries. Much your mother's sister has done for -you—leaving you to take all sorts of maggots into your head! -But I've no doubt you think a sight more of her than you -do of me, for all the time you've been with me." -</p> - -<p> -This was the first time the Munros had been mentioned -between the cousins, and Mona was not anxious to pursue -the subject. "Your mother's sister married on a Sir." Oh, -the sordidness of it! -</p> - -<p> -Mona had refused to see the Sahib again during his stay -at the Towers, and although she could not for a moment -regret her refusal, she was conscious of a distinct sense of -emptiness in her life. There was no doubt that for the -moment she had lost her friend; and perhaps things might -never again be as they had been before his clumsy and -lamentable mistake. But although he was lost to her -directly, she was only now beginning to possess him through -Doris. -</p> - -<p> -"He will see her constantly for the next two months," she -thought, "and he cannot but love her. He loves her now, -if he only knew it. It is absurd to suppose that he ever -looked at me with that light in his eyes. He analyses me, -and admires me deliberately, but Doris bowls him over. -Whether she will care for him, is another question; but I -am sure he at least possesses the prime merit in her eyes of -being a Sir Galahad; and by the doctrine of averages, a -magnificent son of Anak like that cannot be refused by two -sensible women within the space of two months. He will -consider himself bound to me of course, but he will fall in -love with her all the faster for that; and at the appointed -time he will duly present himself in much fear and trembling -lest I should take him at his word. How amusing it will -be!" And a cold little ray of sunshine stole across the chill -grey mists of her life. -</p> - -<p> -That day Rachel's appetite failed for the first time. Her -face was more flushed than usual, and her moist, flabby -hands became dry and hot. In some uneasiness Mona produced -her clinical thermometer, and found that her cousin's -temperature had run up to 102°. -</p> - -<p> -"You are a little feverish, dear," she said lightly. "I -don't think it is going to be anything serious, but it will be -wise to go to bed and let me fetch the doctor. Shall I send -Sally or go myself?" -</p> - -<p> -"Send Sally," was the prompt reply, "and let him find -out for himself that I am feverish. Don't tell him anything -about that machine of yours. He'd think it wasn't canny -for the like of you." -</p> - -<p> -"I will do as you please, of course; but lots of people -have thermometers now, who know no more of medicine—than -that spoon. Not but what the spoon's experience of -the subject has been both varied and profound!" she added, -smiling, as she remembered Rachel's love for domestic -therapeutica. -</p> - -<p> -Rachel smiled too at the feeble little joke. The knowledge -that she was really ill had improved her spirits wonderfully, -partly by gratifying her sense of self-importance, and -partly by making the occasion seem worthy of the -manifestation of a little practical Christianity. -</p> - -<p> -It was evening when the doctor arrived, and then, of -course, he could say but little. Milk diet, a cooling draught, -no visitors, and patience. He would call about noon the -next day. -</p> - -<p> -"I fear you are as much in need of rest and care as my -cousin is," said Mona, when a fit of coughing interrupted -his final directions to her at the door. -</p> - -<p> -"I am fairly run off my feet," he said. "I have had a -lot of night-work, and now this bout of frivolity has given -me a crop of bronchial attacks and nervous headaches. I -have got a friend to take my work for a fortnight, but he -can't come for a week or ten days yet. I must just rub -along somehow in the meantime. A good sharp frost would -do us all good; this damp weather is perfectly killing." -</p> - -<p> -As if in answer to his wish, the frost came that night with -a will. In the morning Mona found a tropical forest on her -window-panes; and in a moment up ran the curtains of the -invisible. The shop and the dingy house fell into their true -perspective, and she felt herself a sentient human -being—dowered with the glorious privilege of living. -</p> - -<p> -Rachel was no better, and as soon as Mona had made her -patient and the room as neat and fresh as circumstances -would allow, she set out to do the marketing. "Send -Sally," Rachel said; but customers never came before ten, -and Mona considered it the very acme of squalor to leave -that part of the housekeeping to chance, in the shape of a -thriftless, fusionless maid-of-all-work. She walked quickly -through the sharp frosty air, and came in with a sprinkle of -snow on her dark fluffy fur, and a face like a half-blown rose. -</p> - -<p> -"The doctor has just gone up-stairs," whispered Sally, -and Mona hastened up to find, not Dr Burns, but Dr Dudley. -She was too much taken by surprise to conceal the pleasure -she felt, and, much as Dudley had counted on this meeting, -his brain well-nigh reeled under the exquisite unconscious -flattery of her smile. It was a minute before he could -control himself sufficiently to speak. -</p> - -<p> -"I am afraid Dr Burns is ill," said Mona, as she took his -hand. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, poor fellow! He is very much below par altogether, -and he has taken a serious chill, which has settled -on his lungs. I fear it will be some time before he is about -again. A substitute will be here in a week, I hope; and in -the meantime, <i>nolens volens</i>, I am thrust into the service. -Thank you, Miss Simpson, that will do, I think." He took -the thermometer to the light, and then gave Mona a few -directions. "You have not got one of these things, I -suppose?" he said. -</p> - -<p> -"I never even had one in my hand," put in Rachel hastily. -</p> - -<p> -"You know you can easily get one," added Mona severely. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, it's of no consequence. I think there is no doubt -that this is only a feverish cold. I wish I had no more -serious case. Go on with the mixture, but I should like -Miss Simpson to take some quinine as well. I have no -doubt she will be about again in a few days." -</p> - -<p> -He wrote a prescription—very unnecessarily, Mona -thought,—and then she followed him down-stairs. When -they reached the shop he deliberately stopped, and turned to -face her. He did not speak; his mind was in a whirl. He -was thinking no longer of the beauty of her mind, and -character, and face; he had ceased even to admire. He -only knew that he wanted her, that he had found her out, -that she was his by right; every other thought and feeling -was merged in the consciousness that he was alone with the -woman he loved. Oh, how good it was to lose one's self at -last in a longing like this! -</p> - -<p> -His back was turned to the light, and Mona wondered -why her "playfellow" was so silent. -</p> - -<p> -"This is an unfortunate holiday for you," she said. -</p> - -<p> -He shook himself out of his dream, and answered gaily, -"Oh, I don't know. This sort of thing is a rest in one way -at least,—it does not call the same brain-cells into requisition, -and it gives me a little anticipation of the manhood my -cursed folly has postponed." -</p> - -<p> -Of course the humble words were spoken very proudly; -and he looked every inch a man even to eyes that still -retained a vivid picture of the Sahib. His shoulders seemed -more broad and strong in the heavy becoming Inverness -cape, he held himself more upright than formerly, and his -face had gained an expression of quiet self-confidence. -</p> - -<p> -"Work suits you," said Mona, smiling. -</p> - -<p> -"That it does!" He brought his closed fist vehemently -down upon the counter. "When my examination is over, -Miss Maclean, I shall be a different being,—in a position to -do and say things that I dare not do and say now." -</p> - -<p> -He spoke with emphasis, half hoping she would understand -him, and then broke off with sudden bitterness— -</p> - -<p> -"Unless I fail!" -</p> - -<p> -"<i>You</i> fail!" laughed Mona. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah! so outsiders always say. I can assure you, you -have no idea how chancy those London examinations are." -</p> - -<p> -The colour rushed into her face. A dozen times she -had tried to ask Rachel's permission to tell him all; a dozen -times the question, "Why him rather than any one else?" -had sealed her lips. What if she were to make a clean -breast of it now, and risk her cousin's anger afterwards! -She could never hope for such another opportunity. -</p> - -<p> -She was determined to use it, to tell him she knew the -chances of those examinations only too well; but to her -surprise she found the confession far more difficult than the -one she had made to the Sahib. At the very thought of it, -her heart beat hard and her breath came fast. -</p> - -<p> -"This is too absurd!" she thought, in fierce indignation -at her own weakness. "What do I care what he thinks? -But if I cannot speak without panting as if I were trying to -turn a mill, I must hold my peace. It is of little -consequence, after all, whether he knows or not." -</p> - -<p> -"Do you know," said Dudley deliberately, "I thought -for a moment that I had come into the wrong house this -morning? I never should have recognised your—quarters." -</p> - -<p> -"Did you notice the difference? You must have a quick -eye and a good memory." -</p> - -<p> -Notice the difference! He had noticed few things in the -last six months that had given him half the pleasure of that -sweeping reformation. Dudley was no giant among men; -but, if he cared for name and outward appearance, at least -he cared more for reality; and, I think, the sight of that -fresh, business-like, creditable shop was a greater comfort to -his mind than it would have been to see his Cinderella at the -ball. He had ceased to regret that Mona was a shopkeeper, -but he was not too much in love to be glad that she was a -good shopkeeper. -</p> - -<p> -"I knew your influence was bound to tell in the long-run," -he said. "I suppose Miss Simpson did not greatly -encourage you to interfere?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, but she has been very good. I don't believe I -should have left an assistant as free a hand as she left me. -I hope you admire my window. I call it a work of art." -</p> - -<p> -"I call it something a great deal better than that," he -said rather huskily, as he held out his hand. "Good -morning." -</p> - -<p> -"Bless her!" he said to himself as he jumped into his -gig. "She never apologises for the shop—never speaks as -if it were something beneath her. My God, what a snob -I am!" -</p> - -<p> -As soon as he was gone, Mona raised the hand he had -shaken, and looked at it deliberately. Then she took a few -turns up and down the shop. "I never mean to marry," -she said very slowly to herself, "and I don't suppose I shall -ever know what it is to be in love; but it would be a fine -test of a man's sincerity to see whether he would be willing -to take me simply and solely as I am now—as Rachel -Simpson's assistant." -</p> - -<p> -The next day was Sunday, and Rachel was so much -better that she insisted on Mona's going to church. -</p> - -<p> -"Folk will be thinking it is something catching," she -said, "and by the time I'm down-stairs again, there'll be -nobody in the shop to talk to." -</p> - -<p> -It was a bright, crisp morning, but Mona found the -service rather a barren one. -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose the doctor has been here," she said with -marked indifference, when she re-entered Rachel's room. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes; and very pleased he was to find me so well. He -says I'm to get up to tea to-day, and go out for ten minutes -to-morrow, if all's well. He is very busy, and he's not to -come back unless we send for him. He's not one of them -that tries how many visits they can put in." -</p> - -<p> -"No," said Mona drearily, and then she roused herself -with an effort. "I am so glad you are better, dear," she -said. "Mr Stuart is coming to see you to-morrow afternoon." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap41"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XLI. -<br /><br /> -A SINGED BUTTERFLY. -</h3> - -<p> -When New Year's Day came round, the little household -had fallen back into its ordinary routine. Mona had decorated -the parlour with evergreens before Rachel left her sick-room; -had superintended divers important proceedings in the -kitchen; and had done her best to feel, and to make others -feel, the festive influence of the season. The attempt had -not been a very successful one, however; Rachel was at no -time susceptible to the poetry of domestic life; and when -dim visions rose in Mona's mind of giving a treat to her -<i>protégées</i>, or to the Sunday-school children, she forced -herself to remember that she was only a humble shopkeeper, -bound to keep within the limits of her <i>rôle</i>. For one night -she had played a more important part, but that was over -now. She was back in her humble sphere, and, for very -art's sake, she must keep her true proportion till the end. -Fortunately, she was asked to assist in the management of -one or two "treats," and, by means of these and a few -anonymous contributions to local charities, she—to use an -expression of her own—"saved her soul alive." She looked -for no selfish enjoyment, she told herself. Auntie Bell was -the only human thing in the neighbourhood whom, for her -own sake, she really cared to see; Auntie Bell—and perhaps -one other; but, although Mona often saw the doctor's gig -in those days, she never chanced to meet the doctor. -</p> - -<p> -A New Year dinner is not a very cheerful festivity in a -somewhat uncongenial <i>solitude à deux</i>, and Mona was not -sorry when an invitation came for Rachel to drink tea with -a crony in the evening. She herself was included in the -invitation, but had no difficulty in getting out of it. She -was popular on the whole, among Rachel's friends, but there -was a general consensus of opinion among them that, when -it came to a regular gossip over the fire, Miss Maclean, with -all her cleverness, was a sad wet-blanket. Sally had been -promised a half-holiday, and Rachel had some compunction -about leaving her cousin alone, but Mona laughed at the -idea. -</p> - -<p> -"The arrangement suits me quite as well as it does you," -she said; "I am going to take some of my mince-pies to old -Jenny, and I have no doubt she will give me a cup of tea. -She has been on my mind all day. It is glorious weather -for a walk, and I shall have a full moon to light me home." -</p> - -<p> -And in truth it was a glorious day for a walk. The -thermometer had fallen abruptly after a heavy mist, and the -great stretch of fields was perfectly white with the deepest -hoar-frost Mona had ever seen. From every stone in the -dyke, every blade of grass by the wayside, every hardy scrap -of moss and lichen, the most exquisite ice-needles stood out -in wonderful coruscations, sparkling and blazing in the -slanting rays of the afternoon sun; a huge spider's web in the -window of an old barn looked like some marvellous piece of -fairy lacework; the cart-ruts in the more deserted roads were -spanned by tiny rafters of ice; and above all, the moon, -modest and retiring as yet, looked down from an infinitely -distant expanse of pale, cloudless sky. -</p> - -<p> -Very slowly the sun sank below the horizon, and the moon -asserted herself more and more; till, when Mona reached -the pine-wood, the mystic, unearthly beauty of the scene -brought the actual tears into her eyes. The silence was -broken only by sounds that served to gauge its depth; the -recesses of the wood were as gloomy and mysterious as ever; -but the moonlight streamed down on graceful tops and -spreading branches, not burdened with massive whiteness, -but transformed into crystal. A pine-wood in snow is a -sight to be seen, but the work of the snow is only a daub, -after all, when compared with the artist touch of a frost like -this. -</p> - -<p> -Mona scarcely knew how long she stood there, unwilling -even to lean against the gate and so destroy its perfect -bloom; but she was disturbed at last by the sound of wheels -on the carriage-drive. Had the Colonel come back? Was -Jenny ill? And then with a quick flash of conviction she -knew whom she was going to see. -</p> - -<p> -It was Dudley, leading his horse by the bridle, and -looking worn and anxious. He brightened up and quickened his -step when he saw a woman's figure at the gate; then -recognised who it was, and stopped short, with something like a -groan. Poor Dudley! A moment before he would have -given almost anything he possessed for the presence of a -female human creature, and now that his prayer was granted, -how he wished that it had been any other woman in the -world than just this one whom the Fates had sent! -</p> - -<p> -He had no choice, however, and he plunged into the matter -at once, with white lips, but with a quick, resolute voice. -</p> - -<p> -"I am in a sore dilemma, Miss Maclean," he said. "I -was sent for suddenly up country to a case of arsenical -poisoning; and, as I went past, they stopped me at those -cottar-houses to tell me that there was a poor soul in -extremity here. It's your little Maggie, by the way. Poor -child! She may well ask herself whether life is worth living -now! Of course I had to go on to my man, but I left him -before I really ought to have done so, and now I must hurry -back. The baby is just born." -</p> - -<p> -"Is Jenny here?" Mona found it difficult to speak at all -in the deafening rush of sorrow and bitterness that came -over her. -</p> - -<p> -"Jenny is away to Leith. Her brother's ship has just -come in. The girl came home unexpectedly, and had to get -the key of the house at the cottage. Everybody is down in -the town celebrating the New Year, except a few infants, -and an infirm old man, who noticed that she was ill and -hailed me. Will you go in? There is no fire, nor comfort -of any sort for the poor child. It is no work for you——" -</p> - -<p> -Mona looked up with a curious light in her eyes. -</p> - -<p> -"You don't really mean that," she said quietly. "If -there were only a duchess on the road to-night, it would be -her work. I suppose I may run to the cottage for some -milk? I expect Maggie has eaten nothing all day." -</p> - -<p> -His lips quivered slightly, in the relief of finding how -simply she took it. -</p> - -<p> -"God bless you," he said, as he took the reins. "I -believe the girl will do well. I will be back as soon as I -possibly can, and I will send the first woman I meet to your -relief." -</p> - -<p> -"No, you won't," she said gently. "I would rather stay -all night than have a woman here of whom I know nothing. -Go on. Good speed to your case!" -</p> - -<p> -She fetched the milk, and then ran like the wind to the -house. It was a lonely place at the best of times, and now -it seemed bleak and damp and dreary,—a fitting home for -the poor little singed human butterfly, who, in the hour of -her agony, had taken refuge within its walls. -</p> - -<p> -Mona was thankful there was so much to do, for her indignation -burned like fire at the sight of that altered, chubby -face. All honour to the stern and noble women who, by the -severity of their views, have done so much to preserve the -purity of their sex; but let us be thankful, too, for those -who, like Mona, in time of need lose sight of the sinning -woman in the injured suffering child. -</p> - -<p> -In a very short time a bright fire was blazing in the grate; -the bed had been arranged as comfortably as might be, and -Mona was holding a cup of hot milk to the lips of the -half-starved girl. Only an invalid knows the relief of having -some one in the sick-room who, without fuss or questioning, -quietly takes the helm of affairs; and poor little Maggie -looked up at her comforter with the eyes of a hunted animal, -which, bruised and bleeding, finds that it has run by chance -into a haven of rest. -</p> - -<p> -For some time Mona doubted whether the baby would live -till Dr Dudley's return. It was such a puny little thing—a -poor morsel of humanity, thrust prematurely into a cold -and busy world that had no need of him. "He had better -have died!" thought Mona, as she did all that in her lay to -keep him in life; and, in truth, I know not whether the -woman or the doctor in her rejoiced more truly when she -saw that all immediate danger was past. -</p> - -<p> -All was peaceful, and Maggie, with the tears undried on -her long eyelashes, had fallen asleep when Dudley came -back. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know how to apologise for being so long away," -he said, in a low voice. "Talk of Scylla and Charybdis!" He -asked a few simple questions, and then, leading the way -into the kitchen, he pushed forward the shabby old armchair -for her, and seated himself on the corner of the table. -</p> - -<p> -"I am afraid you are very tired," he said, -</p> - -<p> -"Oh no!" -</p> - -<p> -"You are reserving that for to-morrow?" -</p> - -<p> -He would have liked to feel her pulse, both as a matter of -personal and of scientific interest, but he did not dare. -</p> - -<p> -"I wonder what poor little Maggie and I would have done -without you to-night," he said. "As it is, I have had a -close shave with my man. I found him a good deal collapsed -when I went back,—cold and clammy, with blue lines -round his eyes." -</p> - -<p> -"What did you do?" said Mona eagerly, with a student's -interest. -</p> - -<p> -"You may well ask. One's textbooks always fail one -just at the point that offers a real difficulty in practice. -They tell you how to get rid of and to neutralise the poison; -they overwhelm you with Marsh's and Reinsch's tests; but -how to keep the patient alive—that is a mere detail. Hot -bottles were safe, of course, and 'in the right direction.' I -was afraid to give stimulants, in case I should promote the -absorption of any eddies of the poison, but finally I had to -chance a little whisky-and-water, and that brought him -round. I was very ill at ease about leaving you so long, -but I thought some married woman from the cottar-houses -would have been here before this." -</p> - -<p> -"They won't come," said Mona, "I gave the old man a -sovereign to hold his peace." And then she bit her lip, -remembering that Miss Simpson's shop-girl could scarcely be -supposed to have sovereigns to spare. -</p> - -<p> -Dudley smiled,—a half-amused but very kindly smile, -that reflected itself in a moment in Mona's face. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you think it was foolish?" she asked simply. -</p> - -<p> -"God forbid that I should criticise a woman's instinct in -such a matter! With my powers of persuasion, I might as -well have tried to hush up the death of a prince. I have -long since decided that if I don't want people to talk about -a thing, the best plan is to advertise it at once, then turn up -the collar of my coat, fold my arms, and—thole." -</p> - -<p> -"That is all very well when only one's self is concerned, -but, by the time Jenny came back, no choice would have -been left her." -</p> - -<p> -"True. I might have known all along that you were right. -It will be worth more than a sovereign to be able to tell Jenny -that no one knows. And if she comes soon, the statement -will do for the truth. Heigh-ho! do you know, I could -throw my cap in the air, and hurrah like a schoolboy, when -I think that my man has pulled through. A poisoning case -is no joke, I can tell you; all hurry and confusion and -uncertainty, with the prospect of a legal inquiry at the end of -it. 'Do you mean to say, sir,'—Dudley adjusted an imaginary -wig and weighed an imaginary eyeglass,—'that with a -man's life at stake, you did so-and-so?' Ugh! who says a -doctor's fees are easily earned? It would take many a jog-trot -dyspepsia or liver complaint to restore the balance after -that!" -</p> - -<p> -"I am quite sure of it; and now I advise you to go home -and get a night's rest if you can." -</p> - -<p> -"But what am I to do about you? You don't suppose -I am going to sleep the sleep of the unjust and leave you -here?" -</p> - -<p> -"That is precisely what you are going to do. An hour's -forced march will do me no harm; you have had no lack of -them lately. I will ask you to leave this note for my cousin, -and if you have no objection, I think you might ask Jenny's -friend, Mrs Arnot—you know who I mean—to come up -to-morrow morning. She is absolutely safe. Tell her to wait -till the shops are open, and bring me the things I have -jotted down here." -</p> - -<p> -Maggie was awake by this time, and Dudley paid her a -short visit before he left. The poor girl thought the -gentleman very kind, but she was thankful when he was gone, and -she was alone once more with Mona. -</p> - -<p> -"I will tell you all how it was," she sobbed out convulsively. -</p> - -<p> -"Not to-night, dear," Mona said quietly, stroking the -thick brown hair. "When you are a little stronger, you -shall tell me the whole story. To-night you must lie quite -still and rest. I will take care of you." -</p> - -<p> -It was a strange experience to sit there through the long -hours, listening to the regular breathing of the young mother, -the steady tick of the clock, and the occasional fall of a cinder -from the grate. It seemed so incredible that this girl—this -butterfly—had passed already, all frivolous and unprepared, -through that tract of country which, to each fresh traveller, -is only less new and mysterious than the river of death. A -few months before, Mona had felt so old and wise, compared -to that ignorant child; and now a great gulf of experience -and of sorrow lay between them, and the child was on the -farther side. -</p> - -<p> -More and more heavily the burden of the sorrows of her -sex pressed on Mona's heart as the night went on; more and -more she longed to carry all suffering women in her arms; -more and more she felt her unworthiness for the life-work -she had chosen, till at last, half unconsciously, she fell on -her knees and her thoughts took the form of a prayer. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap42"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XLII. -<br /><br /> -QUESTIONINGS. -</h3> - -<p> -When Mona first began her medical career, she was actuated -partly by intense love of study and scientific work, -partly by a firm and enthusiastic conviction that, while the -fitness of women for certain spheres of usefulness is an open -question, medical work is the natural right and duty of the -sex, apart from all shifting standards and conventional views. -Her repeated failure "took the starch out of her," as she -expressed it, but I do not think that she ever for more than -a moment seriously thought of giving up the work, when she -laid it aside for a time; and her promise to Mr Reynolds was -made, less out of gratitude to him than from a stern sense of -duty. But now the cold hard lines of duty were broken -through by the growing developing force of a living inspiration. -We need many fresh initiations into a life-work that -is really to move mankind, and Mona underwent one that -night at Barntoun Wood, hundreds of miles away from the -scene of her studies, with the silvered pines for a temple, the -lonely house for a holy place, and a shrine of sin and sorrow. -"Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of -these—" Who shall tell beforehand what events will form -the epochs, or the turning-points, in the life of any one of -us? Verily the wind bloweth where it listeth. -</p> - -<p> -The night was over, and the morning sun was once more -kindling all the ice-crystals into sparkles of light, when Mrs -Arnot arrived—kind and motherly, but of course inexpressibly -shocked. Mona conjured her not to have any conversation -about the past that might agitate the patient; and -then set out for home, promising to return before night. -The ready tears welled up in Maggie's eyes as she watched -her benefactress go; and then she turned her face to the -wall and pretended to sleep. If she could only be with -Miss Maclean always, how easy it would be to be good; and -perhaps in time she would even begin to forget—about him. -</p> - -<p> -Since her illness Rachel had been very affectionate to her -cousin, and Mona was quite unprepared for the torrent of -indignation that assailed her when she entered the -sitting-room. She had found Maggie ill at the Wood alone, she -said, and almost in a moment Rachel guessed what had -happened. -</p> - -<p> -For some time Mona tried to discuss the question calmly, -but the cutting, merciless words wounded her more than -she could bear; so she rose and took her gloves from the -table. -</p> - -<p> -"That will do, cousin," she said coldly; "but for the -accident of circumstances it might have been you or I." -</p> - -<p> -This of course was a truism, but Rachel could not be -expected to see it in that light, and the flames of her wrath -leaped higher. -</p> - -<p> -"Jenny can pay for a nurse from Kirkstoun," she said; -"I'll not have you waiting hand and foot on a creature no -decent woman would speak to. You'll not enter that house -again." -</p> - -<p> -"I've promised to go back this afternoon. Of course you -have a perfect right, if you like, to forbid me to return -here. But I am very tired, and I think it would be a pity, -after all your kindness to me, to send me away with such an -interpretation as this of the parable of the Good Samaritan. -Unless you mention the incident, people will never find out -that I had anything to do with it." -</p> - -<p> -She left the room without giving her cousin time to reply. -Before long Sally knocked at her door with a tolerably -inviting breakfast-tray. Poor Rachel! She had never made -any attempt to reduce her opinions and convictions to -common principles, and it was very easy to defeat her with -a weapon out of her own miscellaneous armoury. She was -perfectly satisfied that the parable of the Good Samaritan -had nothing to do with the case, but the mention of it -reminded her of other incidents in the Gospel narrative which -seemed to lend some support to Mona's position. But then -things were so different now-a-days. Was that wicked little -minx to be encouraged to hold up her head again as if -nothing her happened? -</p> - -<p> -Not even for Jenny's sake could Mona stoop to beg her -cousin to hold her peace, but Rachel had already resolved to -do this for reasons of her own. She was shrewd enough to -see that if the incident came out at all at present, it would -come out in its entirety, and, rather than sacrifice "her own -flesh and blood," she would spare even Maggie—for the -present. -</p> - -<p> -About mid-day Dudley arrived at the shop on foot. -</p> - -<p> -"I thought the friendly Fates would let me find you -alone," he said. "Your patients are thriving famously. I -came to tell you that Jenny is to arrive at Kirkstoun -to-night. I know it is asking a hard thing; but it would -soften matters so for everybody else if you could meet her." -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you so much for coming to tell me. I have been -very unhappy about her home-coming. I am afraid I cannot -do much, but I need not say I will do my best. I meant to -go out this afternoon, but I will wait now, and go with -Jenny. Poor soul! it will be an awful blow to her." -</p> - -<p> -Dudley was looking at her fixedly. "Having expressed -my delight at finding you," he said, "I am going to proceed, -with true masculine inconsistency, to scold you for not -taking a few hour's sleep. You look very tired." -</p> - -<p> -"Appearances are deceptive." -</p> - -<p> -"I am afraid Miss Simpson is not pleased with last night's -work." -</p> - -<p> -She hesitated, then smiled. "Miss Simpson is not the -keeper of my conscience." -</p> - -<p> -"Thank God for that at least! You will not stay for -more than half an hour to-night?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know." -</p> - -<p> -"No, Miss Maclean, you will not," he said firmly; "I will -not have it." -</p> - -<p> -Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Bear with my dulness," -she said, "and explain to me your precise right to interfere. -Is it the doctor's place to arrange how long the nurses are -to remain on duty? I only ask for information, you know." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," he said boldly, "it is." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah! so it becomes a simple matter of official duty. -Thank you for explaining it to me." -</p> - -<p> -Then suddenly the blood rushed up into her face. "Oh, -Dr Dudley," she said impulsively, "what a brute I am to -laugh and jest the moment I have turned my back on a -tragedy like that!" -</p> - -<p> -"And why?" he asked. "Do not the laughter and jesting, -like the flowers and the sunshine, show that the heart -of things is not all tragedy? If you and I could not laugh -a little, in sheer healthy human reaction from too near a -view of the seamy side of life, I think we should go mad; -don't you?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," she said earnestly. -</p> - -<p> -"I think it is a great mistake to encourage mere feeling -beyond the point where it serves as a motive. As we say in -physiology that the optimum stimulus is the one that -produces the maximum contraction; so the optimum feeling is -not the maximum feeling, but the one that produces the -maximum of action. Maggie is as safe with you as if she -had fallen into the hands of her guardian angel. There is -but little I can do, as the law does not permit us, even -under strong provocation, to wring the necks of our -fellow-men; but I will see Jenny to-morrow, and arrange about -making the fellow contribute to the support of the child. -Do you think you and I need to be afraid of an innocent -laugh if it chances to come in our way?" -</p> - -<p> -Dudley spoke simply and naturally, without realising -how his sympathetic chivalrous words would appeal to a -woman who loved her own sex. Mona tried to thank him, -but the words would not come, so with an instinct that was -half that of a woman, half that of a child, she looked up -and paid him the compliment of the tears for which she -blushed. -</p> - -<p> -It was then that Dudley understood for the first time all -the possibilities of Mona's beauty, and realised that the face -of the woman he loved was as potter's clay in the grasp of a -beautiful soul. -</p> - -<p> -He held out his hand without a word, and left the shop. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap43"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XLIII. -<br /><br /> -"MITHER!" -</h3> - -<p> -The clear sky was obscured by driving clouds, and the -night was darkening fast, as Mona walked up and down the -draughty little station, waiting for the arrival of Jenny's -train. The prospect of a long walk across the bleak open -country, with a heartrending tale to tell on the way, was -not an inviting one, and Mona had serious thoughts of -hiring a conveyance; but that would have been the surest -method of attracting attention to herself and Jenny, so she -reluctantly relinquished the idea. The train was very late, -and the wind seemed to rise higher every minute; but at -last the whistle was heard, and in a few moments more -Jenny's quaint old figure alighted from a grimy third-class -carriage, and proceeded with difficulty to "rax doun" the -basket and bundle from the high seat. -</p> - -<p> -Mona's heart bled afresh at the sight of the weather-worn -old face, and her whole nature recoiled from the task she -had accepted. After all, why should she interfere? Might -she not do more harm than good? Would it not be wiser -to leave the whole development of events to Mother Nature -and the friendly Fates? -</p> - -<p> -"Is that you, Jenny?" she said; "I am going out your -way, so we can walk together. Give me your basket." -</p> - -<p> -"Hoot awa', Miss Maclean! You leddies dinna tak' weel -wi' the like o' that. Feel the weicht o' it." -</p> - -<p> -"That is nothing," said Mona, bracing her muscles to -treat it like a feather. "I will take the bundle, too, if you -like. And now, Jenny, I want to hear about your travels." -</p> - -<p> -Her great fear was lest the old woman's suspicions should -be aroused before they got out of the town, and she talked -rather excitedly about anything that suggested itself. At -last they passed the outskirts, and Mona drew a long breath -of mingled relief and apprehension. -</p> - -<p> -"It's an awfu' nicht," gasped Jenny, taking Mona's -proffered arm, as a fierce gust of wind swept across the bare -fields. "I nae ken hoo I'd win hame my lane. But what -taks ye sae far on siccan a nicht?" -</p> - -<p> -"I went out to see you last night," Mona answered -irrelevantly, "but found you away." -</p> - -<p> -"Eh, lassie, but I'm sair fashed! An' ye'd no' ken that -the key was at the cottar-hoose? Ye micht hae gaed in, -and rested yersel' a bit. I'd ask ye in the nicht, but the -house is cauld, and nae doubt ye're gaun tae some ither -body." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," said Mona, and then she rushed into the subject -that occupied all her thoughts. "When did you last hear -from Maggie?" she asked. -</p> - -<p> -The old woman's face darkened. "I wadna wonner but -there'll be a letter frae her at the cottar-hoose. I'm that ill -pleased wi' her for no' writin'. It'll be sax weeks, come -Monday, sin' I'd ony word. I'll no' ken a meenit's peace -till her twel'month's oot in Feb'ry, and she's back at -hame." -</p> - -<p> -"Perhaps she is ill," said Mona deliberately. -</p> - -<p> -Jenny peered up at her companion's face in the darkness. -</p> - -<p> -"What gars ye say that?" she asked quickly. -</p> - -<p> -"Jenny," said Mona, in a voice that shook with sympathy, -"when I went out last night, I found Maggie at the house. -She has come home." -</p> - -<p> -She never could remember afterwards whether she added -anything more, or whether Jenny guessed at once what had -befallen. There were a few quick imperious questions, and -then the old woman dropped her bundle and burst into -a torrent of wrath that made Mona's blood run cold. For -some minutes she could scarcely understand a word of the -incoherent outcry, but it was an awful experience to see the -dim figure of the mother, standing there with upraised -hands on the deserted road, calling down curses upon her -child. -</p> - -<p> -Presently she picked up her bundle, and walked on so -swiftly that Mona could scarcely keep pace with her. -</p> - -<p> -"Hoo daured she come hame?" she muttered. "Hoo -daured she, hoo daured she? Could she no' bide whaur -naebody kent her, and no' shame her auld mither afore a' -the folk? The barefaced hussy! I'd ha' slammed the -door i' her face. An' she'll oot o' the hoose this vera nicht, -she an' the bairn o' her shame. There's no' room yonder -for baith her an' me. I nae care what comes o' them. She -suld ha' thocht o' that i' time. We maun e'en reap what -we saw. Frae this day forrit she's nae bairn o' mine, and -I'll no' lie doon ae nicht wi' a shameless strumpet unner my -roof." -</p> - -<p> -"If you turn her out of the house," Mona said quietly, -"you will tell all the world what has happened. At present -it is a secret." -</p> - -<p> -Jenny's face brightened, but only for a moment. -</p> - -<p> -"Ye needna pit yersel' aboot tae tell me the like o' that," -she said bitterly. "Or maybe ye're but a lassie yet, and -dinna ken hoo lang thae secrets is like tae be keepit. I -niver keepit ane mysel', and it's no' likely ither folk are -gaun to begin noo." Then she burst into a wailing cry, -"Eh, Miss Maclean, I'm sair stricken! I can turn her oot -o' my hoose, but I'll niver haud up my held again. What's -dune canna be undune." -</p> - -<p> -"What is done cannot be undone," Mona answered very -slowly; "but it can be made a great deal worse. The -child did not know her trouble was so near, when she came -to ask your advice and help. Where else, indeed, should -she have gone? Would you have had her drift on to the -streets? Because she has lost what you call her good name, -do you care nothing for her soul? I think, in all my life, -I never knew anything so beautiful as the trustful way -in which that poor little thing came home to her mother. -I'm sure I should not have had the courage to do it. She -knew you better than you do yourself. She had not sat -on your knee and heard all your loving words for nothing; -and when the world treated her cruelly, and she fell into -temptation, she knew where to turn. Fifty vows and -promises of reformation would not mean so much. If -I were a mother, I should turn my back on a storm of -gossip and slander, and thank God on my bended knees -for that." -</p> - -<p> -Mona paused, and in the darkness she heard a suppressed -sob. -</p> - -<p> -"I am not a child, Jenny," she went on. "I know as -well as you do what the world would say, but we are away -from the world just now, you and I; we are alone in the -darkness with God. Let us try for a little to see things as -He sees them. Don't you think He knows as well as we do -that if Maggie is kindly and lovingly dealt with now, she -may live to be a better woman and not a worse, because of -this fall? He puts it into her mother's power to turn this -evil into good. And you must not think that her life is -spoilt. She is such a child. She must not stay here, of -course, but if you will let me, I will find a home for her -where she will be carefully trained; and you will live yet to -see her with a husband of her own to take care of her, and -little children, of whom you will be proud." -</p> - -<p> -Jenny sobbed aloud. "Na, na, Miss Maclean," she said; -"ye may pit the pieces thegither, sae that naebody kens the -pitcher was broke, but the crack's aye there!" -</p> - -<p> -"That's true, dear Jenny; but are we not all cracked -pitchers in the sight of God? We may not have committed -just that sin, but may not our pride and selfishness be even -more wicked in His eyes? I am sure Jesus Christ would -have said some burning words to the man whose selfishness -has caused all this misery; but to poor little Maggie, who -has suffered so much, He would surely say, 'Neither do I -condemn thee: go, and sin no more.' It seems to me that -the only peace we can get in this world is by trying to see -things as God sees them." -</p> - -<p> -So they talked on till they reached the Wood. From -time to time Jenny spoke softly, with infinite pathos, of her -child; and then, again and again, her indignation broke -forth uncontrollably—now against Maggie, now against the -man who had betrayed her. Mona's influence was strong, -but it was exerted against a mighty rock of opposition; and -just when all seemed gained, the stone rolled heavily back -into its place. She was almost exhausted with the long -struggle when they reached the door, and she did not feel -perfectly sure even then that Jenny would not end by -fulfilling her original threat. -</p> - -<p> -Mrs Arnot had gone home half an hour before, and -Maggie was lying alone, with pale face and large pathetic -eyes. She recognised her mother's step, and turned towards -the opening door with quivering lips. -</p> - -<p> -"Mither!" she sobbed, like a lost lamb. -</p> - -<p> -There was a moment of agonising uncertainty, and then a -very bitter cry. -</p> - -<p> -"Eh, my dawtie, my dawtie! my bonnie bit bairn! I suld -ha' keepit ye by me." -</p> - -<p> -Mona slipped into the kitchen. The blazing fire and the -well-polished tins swam mistily before her eyes, as she took -the tea-canister from the shelf, and her whole heart was -singing a pæan of thanksgiving. -</p> - -<p> -"It was the 'Mither!' that did it," she thought. -"Where was all my wordy talk compared to the pathos of -that? But I am very glad I came all the same." -</p> - -<p> -She left the mother and daughter alone for ten minutes -or so, and then carried in the tea-tray. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know how you feel, Jenny," she said, "but I am -very cold and very hungry, so I took the liberty of making -some tea. I even think Maggie might be allowed to have -some, very weak, if she promises faithfully not to talk any -more to-night." -</p> - -<p> -Jenny drank her hot tea, and her heart was cheered and -comforted, in spite of all her burden of sorrow. Miss -Maclean's friendship was at least something to set over -against the talk of the folk; and—and—she thought she -would read a chapter of her Bible that night; she would try -to find the bit about Jesus and the woman. Had any one -told Jenny beforehand that, so soon after hearing such -dreadful news, her heart would have been comparatively -at rest, she would have laughed the idea to scorn. Yet -so it was. Poor old Jenny! The morrow was yet to come, -with reflections of its own, with the return swing of the -pendulum, weighted with principle and prejudice and old -tradition; but in her simplicity she never thought of that, -and for a few short hours she had peace. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap44"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XLIV. -<br /><br /> -A CRIMSON STREAK. -</h3> - -<p> -As soon as tea was over, Mona rose to go. Jenny begged -her to stay all night, for the wind was howling most -dismally through the pine-trees; but Mona laughed at the -idea of danger or difficulty, and set out with a light heart. -She had scarcely found herself alone, however, in the wild -and gusty night, when she began to regret her own rashness. -She was groping her way slowly along the carriage-drive, -with the guidance of the hedge, when, with a sudden sense -of protection, she caught sight of lamps at the gate. -</p> - -<p> -Dudley came forward as soon as he heard her step. -</p> - -<p> -"That is right," he said, with a chime of gladness in his -beautiful voice; "I thought you would obey orders." -</p> - -<p> -"I am naturally glad to receive the commendation of my -superior officer." -</p> - -<p> -"Is Jenny back?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes. All is well,—for to-night at least. I must go -out as early as possible to-morrow. It was one of the most -beautiful sights I ever saw in my life;" and Mona described -what had taken place. -</p> - -<p> -"You have done a good day's work," Dudley said, after a -pause. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I did nothing. I laughed at my own heroics when -I heard Maggie's 'Mither!'" -</p> - -<p> -"No doubt; but Maggie's part would have fallen rather -flat, if you had not borne all the brunt of the disclosure." -</p> - -<p> -"Are you going to visit your patient?" -</p> - -<p> -"Is there any necessity?" -</p> - -<p> -"None whatever, I imagine." -</p> - -<p> -"Then I shall have the pleasure of driving you home." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh no, thank you! I would rather walk." -</p> - -<p> -They were standing now in the full light of the lamps. -Dudley waxed bold. -</p> - -<p> -"Look me in the face, Miss Maclean, and tell me that -that is true." -</p> - -<p> -Mona raised her eyes with a curious sensation, as if the -ground were slipping from under her feet. -</p> - -<p> -"No," she said, "it is not true. I rather dread the walk; -but—you know I cannot come with you." -</p> - -<p> -"Why not?" -</p> - -<p> -She frowned at his persistence; then met his eyes again. -</p> - -<p> -"Because I should not do it by daylight," she said -proudly. -</p> - -<p> -There was a minute's silence. -</p> - -<p> -"Burns' substitute comes to-morrow," he said carelessly. -</p> - -<p> -Her face changed very slightly, but sufficiently to catch -his quick eye. -</p> - -<p> -"And as soon as I have discussed things with him, I have -promised to carry my old aunt off to warmer climes. I -shan't be back here till August." -</p> - -<p> -No answer. A sudden blast of wind swept along the -road, and she instinctively laid hold of the shaft of the gig -for support. -</p> - -<p> -Dudley held out his hand. -</p> - -<p> -"It is a high step," he said, "but I think you can -manage it." -</p> - -<p> -Mona took his hand almost unconsciously, tried to say -something flippant, failed utterly, and took her seat in the -gig without a word. -</p> - -<p> -"Am I drugged?" she thought, "or am I going mad?" -</p> - -<p> -Never in all her life had she so utterly failed in -<i>savoir-faire</i>. She felt vaguely how indignant she would be next -day at her own weakness and want of pride; but at the -moment she only knew that it was good to be there with -Dr Dudley. -</p> - -<p> -He arranged the rug over her knees, and took the reins. -</p> - -<p> -"Is this better than walking?" he asked in a low voice, -stooping down to catch her answer. -</p> - -<p> -Only for a moment she tried to resist the influence that -was creeping over her. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," she said simply. -</p> - -<p> -"Are you glad you came?" -</p> - -<p> -And this time she did not try at all. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"That's good!" The reins fell loosely on the mare's back. -"Peggy's tired," he said. "Don't hurry, old girl. Take -your time." -</p> - -<p> -Mona shivered nervously. -</p> - -<p> -"You are cold," he said, taking a plaid from the back of -the seat. "Will you put this round you?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, thank you; I am not really cold, and I have no -hands. I should be blown away altogether if I did not hold -on to this iron bar." -</p> - -<p> -"Should you?" he said, with a curious intonation in his -voice. "Take the reins." -</p> - -<p> -He put them in her hand, unfolded the plaid, and stooped -to put it round her shoulders. In a momentary lull of the -storm, he fancied he felt her warm breath on his chilled -cheek; a little curl of her hair, dancing in the wind, brushed -his hand lightly like a cobweb; and she sat there, unguarded -as a child, one hand holding the reins, the other grasping -the rail of the gig. -</p> - -<p> -Then Dudley forgot himself. His good resolutions were -blotted out, and he felt only a gambler's passionate desire to -stake all in one mad throw. If it failed, he was a ruined -man; but, if it succeeded, what treasure-house could contain -his riches? He could not wait,—he could not, he could -not! One moment would tell him all, and he must know -it. The future might have pleasures of its own in store, -but would it ever bring back this very hour, of night, and -storm, and solitude, and passionate desire? -</p> - -<p> -So the arm, that passed round Mona to arrange the plaid, -was not withdrawn. "Give me the reins," he said firmly, -with that calmness which in hours of intense excitement is -Nature's most precious gift to her sons; "give me the reins -and let go the rail—I will take care of you." -</p> - -<p> -And with a touch that was tender, but fearless with -passion, his strong arm drew her close. -</p> - -<p> -And Mona? why did she not repulse him? Never, since -she was a little child, had any man, save Sir Douglas and -old Mr Reynolds, done more than touch her hand; and now -she obeyed without a word, and sat there silent and -unresisting. Why? Because she knew not what had befallen -her; because, with a last instinct of self-preservation, she -held her peace, lest a word should betray the frantic beating -of her heart. -</p> - -<p> -"This is death," she thought; but it was life, not death. -Dudley's eye had gauged well the promise of that folded -bud; and now, in the sunshine of his touch, on that wild -and wintry night, behold a glowing crimson streak! -</p> - -<p> -And so Ralph knew that this woman would be his wife. -</p> - -<p> -Not a word passed between them as Peggy trotted slowly -homewards. Mona could not speak, and Ralph rejoiced to -think that he need not. When they reached Miss Simpson's -door, he sprang down, lifted Mona to the ground, raised her -hands to his lips, and stood there waiting, till the door had -shut in the light. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap45"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XLV. -<br /><br /> -AN UNBELIEVER. -</h3> - -<p> -Mona did not see Dudley again before he left Borrowness. -Strange as it may seem, she did not even wish to do so. -Nothing could have added just then to the intensity of her -life. For days she walked in a golden dream, performing -her daily duties perhaps even better than usual, but with a -constant sense of their unreality; and when at last outward -things began to reassert their importance, she had much ado -to bring her life into unison again. -</p> - -<p> -Hitherto her experience had ebbed and flowed between -fairly fixed limits; and now, all at once, a strong spring-tide -had rushed up upon the beach, carrying cherished landmarks -before it, and invading every sheltered nook and cranny of -her being. She had fancied that she knew life, and she had -reduced many shrewd observations to broad general -principles; and now, behold, the relation of all things was -changed, and for the moment she scarcely knew what was -eternal rock and what mere floating driftwood. -</p> - -<p> -"I feel," she said, "like a man who has lived half his life -in a house that amply satisfies all his requirements, till one -day by chance he touches a secret spring, and discovers a -staircase in the wall, leading to a suite of enchanted rooms. -He goes back to his study and laboratory and dining-room, -and finds them the same, yet not the same: he can never -forget that the enchanted rooms are there. He must annex -them, and bring them into relation with the rest of the -house, and make them a part of his domicile; and to do that -he must readjust and expand his views of things, and live -on a larger scale." -</p> - -<p> -She looked for no letter, and none came. "When the -examination is over in July, I shall be able to say and do -things which I dare not say and do now." The words had -conveyed no definite meaning to her mind when they were -spoken; but she knew now that when August came, and not -till then, she would hear from her friend again. -</p> - -<p> -That his behaviour the night before had been inconsistent -and unconventional in the highest degree, did not even occur -to her. When one experiences an earthquake for the first -time, one does not stop to inquire which of its features are -peculiar to itself, and which are common to all earthquakes -alike. Moreover, it was weeks and months before Mona -realised that what had passed between Dr Dudley and herself -was as old as the history of man. I am almost ashamed -to confess it of a woman whose girlhood was past, and who -made some pretension to wisdom, but it is the simple fact -that her relation to Dudley seemed to her something unique -and unparalleled. While most girls dream of Love, Mona -had dreamt of Duty, and now Love came to her as a stranger—a -stranger armed with a mysterious, divine right to open -up the secret chambers of her heart. She did not analyse -and ask herself what it all meant. She lived a day at a -time, and was happy. -</p> - -<p> -More than a week elapsed before there appeared in her -sky a cloud no bigger than a man's hand, and the cloud took -the form of the old inquiry, "What would Dr Dudley say -when he learned that she was a medical student, that her -life was entirely different from what he had supposed?" She -shut her eyes at first when the question asserted itself, -and turned her face the other way; but the cloud was there, -and it grew. For one moment she thought of writing to -him; but the thought was banished almost before it took -definite form. To write to him at all, to make any -explanation whatever now, would be to assume—what he must be -the first to put into words. -</p> - -<p> -As soon as February came in, Mona began to look out for -a successor in the shop, and to prepare her cousin for her -approaching departure. It was days before Rachel would -even bear to have the subject broached. Then came a period -of passionate protestation and indignant complaint; but -when at length the good soul understood that Mona had -never really belonged to her at all, she began to lavish upon -her young cousin a wealth of tearful affection that touched -Mona's heart to the quick. -</p> - -<p> -"It has been such a quiet, restful winter," Mona said one -day, when the time of complaint was giving place to the -time of affection; "and in some respects the happiest of my -life." -</p> - -<p> -"Then why should you go? I am sure, Mona, I am not -one to speak of these things; but anybody can see how it is -with Mr Brown. Every day I am expecting him to pop the -question. You surely won't refuse a chance like that. You -are getting on, you know, and he is so steady and so clever, -and so fond of all the things you like yourself." -</p> - -<p> -Mona's cheeks had regained their wonted colour before -she answered, "In the first place, dear, I shall not 'get the -chance,' as you call it; in the second place, I should never -think of accepting it, if I did." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, I'm sure, there's no getting to the bottom of you. -I could understand your not thinking the shop genteel—some -folks have such high and mighty notions—but it is not -that with you. You know I've always said you were a born -shopkeeper. I never kept any kind of accounts before you -came, but I don't really think I made anything by the shop -at all to speak of—I don't indeed! So many things got -mislaid, and, when they cast up again, they were soiled and -faded, and one thing and another. I showed Mr Brown your -books, and told him what we had made last quarter, and he -was perfectly astonished. I am sure he thinks you would -be a treasure in a shop like his. My niece, Mary Ann, was -capital company, and all her ways were the same as mine -like, but she wasn't a shopkeeper like you. She was aye -forgetting to put things back in their places, and there would -be such a to-do when they were wanted again. Poor thing! -I wonder if she's got quit of that lady-help, as she calls -her—lady-hindrance is liker it, by my way of thinking! And -then, Mona, I did hope you would see your way to being -baptised. That was a great thing about Mary Ann. She -was a member of the church, and that gave us so many more -things to talk about like. She was as fond of the -prayer-meeting as I was myself." -</p> - -<p> -"You will come and see me sometimes," Rachel said, a -few days later. -</p> - -<p> -"That I will," Mona answered cordially. "I have promised -to spend the summer holidays with some friends, but -I will come to you for a week, in the first instance, if you -will be kind enough to take me in,—the second week of -August." -</p> - -<p> -And the reader will be glad to know that, if ever human -being had a guilty conscience, Mona had one at that -moment. -</p> - -<p> -The second week of August! How her heart beat at the -thought of it! The examination would be over. With his -short-sighted eyes, Dr Dudley would probably never have -seen her at Burlington House; and down at Castle Maclean, -with the sunshine dancing on the water, and the waves -plashing softly on the beach below, she would tell him the -whole story, before the lists came out and betrayed her. In -the exultation of that moment, the very possibility of another -failure did not occur to her. The lists would appear in the -course of the week, and they two would con the results -together. She would humble herself, if need were, and ask -his pardon for having in a sense deceived him; but surely -there would be no need. Everything would be easy and -natural and beautiful—in the second week of August! -</p> - -<p> -There was much surprise, considerable regret, and not a -little genuine sorrow, when the news of Miss Maclean's -departure became known; but perhaps no one felt it so keenly -as Auntie Bell. The old woman expected little of men, and, -as a rule, found in them as much as she expected. Of -women she had constantly before her so lofty a type, in her -hard-working, high-souled, keen-witted self, that her female -neighbours were a constant source of disappointment to her. -She had been prejudiced in Mona's favour for her father's -sake, and the young girl had more than answered to her -expectations. Miss Maclean had some stuff in her, the old -woman used to say, and that was more than one could say -of most of the lassies one met. -</p> - -<p> -One day towards the end of February, Auntie Bell packed -a basket with the beautiful new-laid eggs that were beginning -to be plentiful, and set out, for the first time in many months, -to pay a visit to Rachel Simpson. To her inward delight -she met two of Mr Brown's sisters as she passed through the -streets of Kilwinnie. -</p> - -<p> -"Where are you going, Mrs Easson?" asked one. "It's -not often we see you here now-a-days." -</p> - -<p> -Auntie Bell looked keenly up through the gold-rimmed -spectacles. -</p> - -<p> -"Whaur wad I be gaun?" she asked grimly, "but tae see -Miss Maclean? She's for leavin' us." -</p> - -<p> -"Why is she going? I understood she was making -herself quite useful to Miss Simpson in the shop." -</p> - -<p> -"Quite usefu'!" Auntie Bell could scarcely keep her -indignation within bounds. "I fancy she is quite usefu'—mair's -the peety that the same canna be maintained o' some -o' the lave o' us. Miss Simpson wad gie her een tae gar her -bide, I'm thinkin'. But what is there here tae keep a leddy -like yon? Hae ye no' mind what kin' o' mon her faither -was? Div ye no' ken that she has siller eneuch an' tae -spare? Ma certy! she's no' like tae say as muckle tae -common country-folk like you an' me, an' Rachel Simpson -yonder; but onybody can see, frae the bit w'ys she has wi' -her, that she's no' used tae the like o' us!" -</p> - -<p> -Having thus delivered her soul, Auntie Bell set her basket -on a low stone dyke; wiped, first her face, and then her -spectacles, with a large and spotless handkerchief, and -proceeded on her way to the station with an easy mind. -</p> - -<p> -Rachel was out paying calls when she arrived. But Mona -received her friend with an enthusiastic welcome that amply -repaid the old woman for her trouble. Half of the -eccentricity for which Auntie Bell had so wide a reputation was -enthusiasm blighted in the bud; and she keenly appreciated -the quality in another,—when it was accompanied by a -sufficiency of ballast. -</p> - -<p> -"You look tired," Mona said, as she poured out the tea -she had prepared herself. -</p> - -<p> -"Ay, I'm sair owerwraucht. Ane o' the lassies is ill—that's -the first guid cup o' tea I hae tasted i' this hoose! -Ane o' the lassies is ill—she's no' a lassie aither, she'll be -forty come Martinmas; but she's been wi' me sin' she was -saxteen, an' the silly thing'll no' see a doctor, an' I nae ken -what's tae be dune." -</p> - -<p> -"What's the matter with her?" asked Mona. -</p> - -<p> -"Hoot, lassie! it's nae hearin' for the like o' you." -</p> - -<p> -"It is just the hearing that is for me. I am not a child, -and, now that I am going away, Rachel has no objection to -my telling you in confidence that I am studying to be a -doctor." -</p> - -<p> -Amusement—incredulity—dismay—appeared, one after -the other, on the weather-beaten, expressive old face, and -then it grew very grave. -</p> - -<p> -"Na, na, lassie," said the old woman severely. "Ye -dinna mean that. A canny, wiselike thing like you wad -niver pit hersel' forrit like some o' thae hussies we hear -aboot in Ameriky. Think o' yer faither! Ye'll no' dae -onything that wad bring discredit on him?" -</p> - -<p> -"Tell me about your servant," Mona said, waiving the -question with a gentleness that was more convincing than -any protestations. "What does she complain of?" -</p> - -<p> -Auntie Bell hesitated, but the subject weighed heavily on -her mind, and the prospect of sympathy was sweet. -</p> - -<p> -"It's no' that she complains," she said, "but——" her -voice sank into an expressive whisper. -</p> - -<p> -Mona listened attentively, and then asked a few questions. -</p> - -<p> -"I wish I could come out with you and see her to-night," -she said; "but a young woman has an appointment with me -about the situation. I will walk out to-morrow and see your -maid. It is very unlikely that I shall be able to do -anything,—I know so little yet,—but her symptoms may be due to -many things. If I cannot, you must either persuade her to -see the doctor here; or, if she was able to be moved, I could -take her with me when I go to Edinburgh, to the Women's -Cottage Hospital." -</p> - -<p> -"And what w'y suld ye pit yersel' aboot?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona laughed. "It's my <i>business</i>," she said. "We all -live for something." -</p> - -<p> -"Na, na; if she doesna mend, she maun e'en see Dr Robertson. -Maybe I've no' been sae firm wi' her as I suld ha' been; -but I've nae opeenion o' doctors ava'. I'm ready tae dee -when my time comes, but it'll no' be their pheesic that kills -me." -</p> - -<p> -Rachel came in at this moment, and the subject was -dropped till Auntie Bell rose to go. -</p> - -<p> -"To-morrow afternoon then," Mona said, as they stood at -the garden-gate. -</p> - -<p> -"Eh, lassie, I couldna hae been fonder o' ma ain bairn! -Who'd iver ha' thocht it?—a wiselike, canny young crittur -like you! Pit a' that nonsense oot o' yer heid!" -</p> - -<p> -Mona laid her hands on the old woman's shoulders, and -stooped to kiss the wrinkled brow. -</p> - -<p> -"I would not vex you for the world, dear Auntie Bell," -she said. "If you like, we will discuss it to-morrow -afternoon." -</p> - -<p> -"Na, na, there's naething tae discuss. Ye maun ken -fine that the thing's no' <i>fut</i> for yer faither's bairn!" And -with a heavy heart the old woman betook herself to the -station. -</p> - -<p> -"More by good luck than good guidance," Mona said, the -medicine she prescribed for the farm-servant proved effectual, -at least for the moment; and a simple tonic, aided by -abundant good things from Auntie Bell's larder and dairy, soon -brought back the glow of health to the pale cheeks. Auntie -Bell looked very grave, and said not one word on the subject -either to Mona or any one else; but the patient was less -reticent, and, before Mona left Borrowness, she was infinitely -touched by an appeal that came to her from a sick woman -in Kilwinnie. -</p> - -<p> -"I've niver been able tae bring mysel' tae speak o't," she -said, as Mona sat by her bedside, "an' noo, I doot it's ower -late; but they do say ye're no' canny, an' I thocht maybe -ye culd help me." -</p> - -<p> -Poor Mona! Very few minutes were sufficient to convince -her that she could do nothing, that the case was far beyond -her powers, if, indeed, not beyond the possibility of surgical -interference. -</p> - -<p> -"I am so sorry," she said, with a quiver in her voice; -"but I know so little, it is no wonder I cannot help you. -You must let me speak to the doctor. He is a good man, -and he knows so much more than I do. I will tell him all -about it, so he won't have to worry you or ask you questions. -He will be able to lessen the pain very much, and—to do -you good." -</p> - -<p> -Her conscience reproached her for the last words, but they -were received only with a sigh of infinite resignation. -</p> - -<p> -"I made sure it was ower late," said the woman wearily; -"but when I heard about Mrs Easson's Christie, I just -thocht I wad speir at ye mysel'. It was awfu' guid o' ye tae -come sae far." -</p> - -<p> -Mona could find no words. Even the tragedy of Maggie's -story faded into insignificance before the pathos of this; for -Mona was young and strong, and life seemed to her very -sweet. -</p> - -<p> -"Thank God, I am going back to work!" she thought as -she hastened home. "I want to learn all that one human -being can. It is awful to be buried alive in the coffin of -one's own ignorance and helplessness." -</p> - -<p> -Alas for the dreams of youth! We may work and strive, -but do the coffin-walls ever recede so very far? -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap46"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XLVI. -<br /><br /> -FAREWELL TO BORROWNESS. -</h3> - -<p> -Two great honours were in store for Mona before she left -Borrowness. -</p> - -<p> -In the first place, the Misses Brown paid her a formal call. -They were arrayed in Sabbath attire, and were civil even to -effusiveness; but they did not invite Mona to their house, -nor suggest another excursion. Auntie Bell's remarks had -had the intended effect of making them feel very small; but, -on reflection, they did not see that they could have acted -otherwise. It was a matter of comparative indifference to -them whether their brother married a rich woman or a poor -one; it was no part of their programme that he should -marry at all. They found it difficult to predict exactly how -he would be influenced by this fresh light on the situation; -and, for the present, they did not think it necessary to tell -him anything about it. -</p> - -<p> -Some mysterious and exaggerated report, however, of -"high connections" must certainly have got wind, or I -cannot think that the second and greater honour would have -fallen to Mona's share. It came in the form of a note on -thick hand-made paper, embossed with a gorgeous crest -</p> - -<p> -"Mr and Mrs Cookson request the pleasure of Miss -Maclean's company to dinner, etc." -</p> - -<p> -Dinner! Mona had not "dined" for months. She tossed -the note aside with a laugh. -</p> - -<p> -"If my friend Matilda has not played me false," she -said—"and I don't believe she has—this is indeed -success!" -</p> - -<p> -Her first impulse was to refuse, but she thought of -Matilda's disappointment; and she thought, too, that Dr -Dudley, knowing what he did of her relations with the girl, -would think a refusal unworthy of her; so she showed the -note to Rachel. -</p> - -<p> -"Of course you'll go," was Rachel's immediate reply -to the unspoken question. "But I do think, seeing how -short a time we're to be together, they might have asked -me too!" -</p> - -<p> -Mona did not answer. She was strongly tempted at that -moment to write and say she went nowhere without her -cousin, but she could not honestly agree that the Cooksons -might have invited Rachel too. -</p> - -<p> -She ended by going, dressed with the utmost care, that -she might not disappoint Matilda's expectations; and, on -the whole, she was pleasantly surprised. There was less -vulgar display than she had expected. Mrs Cookson was -aggressively patronising, and Clarinda almost rude, but for -that Mona had been prepared. Mr Cookson cared nearly as -much for appearances as his wife did; but, as Mona had -guessed, there was good wood under all the veneer. He -was much pleased with Mona's appearance; his pleasure -grew to positive liking when she expressed a preference -for <i>dry</i> champagne; and when she played some of -Mendelssohn's <i>Lieder</i>, from Matilda's well-thumbed copy, he -became quite enthusiastic. -</p> - -<p> -"I am afraid dear old Kullak's hair would stand on end, -if he heard me," Mona said to the eager girl at her elbow, -"and he would throw my music out of the window, as he -did one day, when I thought I had surpassed myself." But -there were many stages of musical criticism between Kullak -and Mr Cookson. -</p> - -<p> -"The girls have been playing those things to me for -years," he said, "but I never saw any sense in them before. -It was all diddle-diddle, twang-twang. Now, when you -play them, bless me! I feel as I did when Cook's man began -to speak English to me, the first time I was at a French -railway station." -</p> - -<p> -With Matilda's handsome brother, Mona did not get -on so well. -</p> - -<p> -"Getting tired of your hobby, Miss Maclean?" he said, -standing in front of her, and twirling his moustache. -</p> - -<p> -Mona looked up with innocent eyes. -</p> - -<p> -"Which hobby?" she said. -</p> - -<p> -He laughed and changed the subject. He was not shy, -but he had not the courage to specify shopkeeping. -</p> - -<p> -All evening Matilda followed Mona like a shadow; taking -her hand whenever she dared, and gazing up into her -face with worshipping eyes. "It is too lovely having you -here," she said, "but I can't forget it's the end of all -things." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh no, it is not," Mona answered. "You will be -coming up to London one of these days, and perhaps your -mother will let you spend a few days with me. In the -meantime, I want you to spend a long afternoon with me -to-morrow." -</p> - -<p> -The long afternoon was in some respects a trying one, -but that and most of the other farewells were over at -length, and Mona was hard at work packing up. -</p> - -<p> -"What a lifetime it seemed, six months ago!" she said, -"and now that it is past—— And how little I ever -dreamed that I should be so sorry to go!" -</p> - -<p> -She had to find room for quite a number of keepsakes, -and she almost wept over the heterogeneous collection. -There were home-made needle-books and pin-cushions from -the girls who had come to her for advice about bonnets, and -situations, and husbands; there was a pair of gaudy beaded -footstools, which Rachel had got as a bargain at the bazaar; -there was a really beautiful Bible from the Bonthrons (how -Mona longed to show it to Dr Dudley!); and from Matilda -Cookson there was a wreath of shells and sea-weed picked -up near Castle Maclean, and mounted on cardboard, with -these lines in the centre of the wreath— -</p> - -<p class="t3"> - "FROM<br /> - M. C.<br /> - IN GRATEFUL MEMORY<br /> - OF<br /> - THE HAPPIEST HOURS OF HER LIFE."<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -The inspiration was a happy one, and it had been carried -out with much care, and a dash of art. Tradition and early -education had of course to put in their say; and they did it -in the form of a massive gold frame, utterly out of keeping -with the simple wreath. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh dear! why will people be so pathetic?" said Mona; -but, if the gifts had been priceless jewels, she could not -have packed them with tenderer care. -</p> - -<p> -Then came the hardest thing of all, the parting with -Rachel. A bright and competent young woman had been -engaged in Mona's place, but Rachel could not be induced -to hear a word in her favour. -</p> - -<p> -"What's all that to me?" she sobbed; "it's not like -one's own flesh and blood. You'd better never have come!" -</p> - -<p> -Mona felt sure that the edge of this poignant grief would -very soon wear off, but when the first bend in the railway -had shut the limp, flapping handkerchief out of sight, she -sank back in the comfortless carriage, feeling as if she had -come to the end of a severe and protracted campaign. -</p> - -<p> -She was too exhausted to read, and was thankful that by -some happy chance she had no fellow-passengers. No -mountains and fjords haunted her memory now; but -instead—changing incessantly like a kaleidoscope—came a -distorted phantasmagoria of perished elastic and ill-assorted -knitting-needles; red-cushioned pews and purple -bonnet-strings; suffering women in poor little homes; crowded -bazaar and whirling ball-room; rocky coast and frosted -pines; and—steady, unchanging, like the light behind the -rattling bits of glass—the wonderful, mystic glow of the -suite of enchanted rooms. -</p> - -<p> -Dusk was gathering when the train drew into the station. -Yes; there stood Doris and the Sahib. Doris was looking -eagerly in the direction of the coming train, and the Sahib -was looking at Doris. But what a welcome they gave the -traveller! A welcome that drove all the phantasmagoria -out of her head, and made her forget that she was anything -other than Doris's sister, the friend of the Sahib, -and—something to somebody else. -</p> - -<p> -"Ponies and pepper-pot still to the fore?" she said, as -they crossed the platform. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh yes; but a horrible fear has seized me lately that -the pepper-pot is beginning to grow." -</p> - -<p> -"Are you not coming with us?" Mona asked, as the -Sahib arranged the carriage-rug. -</p> - -<p> -He looked down at his great athletic figure with a -good-humoured smile. -</p> - -<p> -"How is it to be done?" he asked, "unless I put the -whole toy in my pocket—dolls and all. Miss Colquhoun -has been kind enough to ask me to dinner. I am looking -forward to meeting you then." -</p> - -<p> -Scarcely a word passed between the friends as they drove -home, and Mona was glad to lie down and rest until -dinner-time. -</p> - -<p> -"Welcome, Miss Maclean!" cried Mr Colquhoun as she -entered the drawing-room. "You've come in the very nick -of time to give me your opinion of a new microtome I want -to buy. I could not have held out another day. Why, I -declare you are looking bonnier than ever!" -</p> - -<p> -"She is looking five years younger," said Doris. -</p> - -<p> -"Since we <i>are</i> making personal remarks," said the Sahib, -"I should have said older, but that does not prevent my -agreeing cordially with Mr Colquhoun." -</p> - -<p> -Mona's laugh only half concealed her rising colour. -</p> - -<p> -"Older has it," she said, nodding to the Sahib. "Score!" -</p> - -<p> -As they went in to dinner, she looked round at the -unpretentious perfection of the room and the table, with a -long sigh of satisfaction. -</p> - -<p> -"There is no house in the world," she said, "where I -have precisely the sense of restfulness that I have here. -Nothing jars; I don't need to talk unless I like; and I can -afford to be my very own self." -</p> - -<p> -"That's a good hearing," said Mr Colquhoun heartily. -"Have some soup!" -</p> - -<p> -The two gentlemen kept the ball going between them -most of the time, for Doris never talked much except in a -<i>solitude à deux</i>. And yet how intensely she made her -presence felt, as she sat at the head of the table,—sweet, -gracious, almost childlike, her fair young face scarcely giving -a hint of the strength and enthusiasm that lay behind it! -</p> - -<p> -"I can hardly believe that I am to have you for a whole -week," she said, following Mona into her bedroom, and rousing -the fire; "it is too good to be true. And I am so glad -you are going back to your work!" -</p> - -<p> -"So am I, dear," said Mona simply. -</p> - -<p> -"Of course! I knew you would come back to the point -you started from." -</p> - -<p> -Mona smiled. "You are determined not to make it a -spiral, I see. Ah, well! taking it as a circle, it is a bigger -one than I imagined." -</p> - -<p> -Her words would not have struck Doris but for the tone -in which they were unconsciously spoken. -</p> - -<p> -"What has biggened it?" she said, looking up from the fire. -</p> - -<p> -Mona's hands were clasped beneath her head on the low -back of her arm-chair, and her eyes were fixed on the ceiling. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know," she said. "Many things. How is -Maggie getting on?" -</p> - -<p> -"Famously. Laurie says she will make a first-rate cook. -You should have seen the child's face when I told her you -were coming! I am so grateful to you, Mona, for giving -me a chance to help her. There is so little that one can -do!—that I can do at least! She is a sweet little thing, and so -pretty. When I think of that man——" her face crimsoned, -and she stopped short. -</p> - -<p> -"Don't think of him, dear," said Mona. "It us no use; -and, you know, you must not spoil Maggie." -</p> - -<p> -Doris bent low over the fire, and the tears glistened on -her long eyelashes. She tried to wink them away, but it -was no use; and, after all, there was only Mona there to see, -and Mona was almost a second self. She pressed her -handkerchief hard against her eyes for a moment, and then -turned to her friend with a smile. -</p> - -<p> -"What a time you must have had of it that night at the -Wood! I <i>was</i> proud of you!" -</p> - -<p> -"I wish you had more cause, dear. My duties were -simple in the extreme." -</p> - -<p> -"And the country doctor—what did he say when he -found how you had risen to the occasion?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona's eyes were fixed on the ceiling again. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't think he said anything that is likely to live in -history. I believe he ventured to suggest that Maggie might -have some beef-tea." -</p> - -<p> -This, as Dudley could have testified, was a pure fabrication. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't suppose he would be man enough to admit it, -but he must have seen that you were in your proper place -there—not he." -</p> - -<p> -Mona opened her lips to reply, and then closed them -again. -</p> - -<p> -"Maggie has not been my only patient by any means," -she said finally. "I have had no end of practice. I assure -you I might have set up my carriage, if I had been paid for -it all. Oh, Doris, it is sad work sometimes!" and she told -the story of the last patient she had had. -</p> - -<p> -"Poor soul! Glad as I am that you have left that -place, I don't know how you could bring yourself to leave -her." -</p> - -<p> -"No more do I, quite." -</p> - -<p> -"You could not have brought her into Edinburgh?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona shook her head. "Too late!" she said. -</p> - -<p> -"It must have been dreadful to give her over, after all, to -a man. I don't know how you could do it." -</p> - -<p> -"That's because you don't know how kind he is, how he -met me half-way, and made my task easy. It was the -Kilwinnie doctor, you know, an elderly man." Mona sprang to -her feet, and leaned against the mantelpiece. "At the risk -of forfeiting your esteem for ever, Doris, I must record my -formal testimony that the kindness I have met with at the -hands of men-doctors is almost incredible. When I think -how nice some of them are, I almost wonder that we women -have any patients at all!" -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Nice!</i>" said Doris quietly, but with concentrated scorn. -"It's their <i>trade</i> to be <i>nice</i>. I never consulted a man-doctor -in my life, and I never will; but if by any inconceivable -chance I were compelled to, I would infinitely prefer a boor -to a man who was nice!" -</p> - -<p> -Mona laughed. "Dear old niceness," she said, "I won't -have him abused. When all is said, he is so much more -attractive than most of the virtues. And before we banish -him from the conversation,—how do you like the Sahib?" -</p> - -<p> -Doris's face brightened. -</p> - -<p> -"<i>He</i> believes in women-doctors," she said. -</p> - -<p> -"Ay, and in all things lovely and of good report." Mona -was forgetting her resolution. -</p> - -<p> -"He has very wholesome views on lots of subjects," Doris -went on reflectively. -</p> - -<p> -"Have you seen much of him?" -</p> - -<p> -"A good deal. He is very much interested in the things -my father cares about. I quite understand now what you -meant when you said he was the sort of man one would like -to have for a brother." -</p> - -<p> -This was disappointing, and Mona brought the conversation -to a close. -</p> - -<p> -Every day during her visit the Sahib came in for an hour -or two, sometimes to lunch or dinner, sometimes to escort -"the girls" to a lecture or concert. He was uniformly kind -and brotherly to both, but Mona fancied that at times he was -sorely ill at ease. -</p> - -<p> -"If only he would show a little common-sense," she -thought, "and let the matter drop altogether, what a relief -it would be for both of us!" -</p> - -<p> -But this was not to be. -</p> - -<p> -On Sunday afternoon Doris had gone out to teach her -Bible-class, Mr Colquhoun was enjoying his weekly afternoon -nap, and Mona was sitting alone by the fire in the library, -half lost in a mighty arm-chair, with a book on her knee. -</p> - -<p> -Suddenly the door opened, and the Sahib entered unannounced. -</p> - -<p> -"You are alone?" he said, as though he had not counted -on finding her alone. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," said Mona, and she tried in vain to say anything -more. It was Sunday afternoon. -</p> - -<p> -Somewhat nervously he lifted the book from her lap and -glanced at the title-page. -</p> - -<p> -"Your choice of literature is exemplary," he said, seating -himself beside her. -</p> - -<p> -"I am afraid the example begins and ends with the -choice, then," said Mona, colouring. "I have not read a -line; I was dreaming." -</p> - -<p> -He looked at her quickly. -</p> - -<p> -"Miss Maclean," he said, making a bold plunge, "I have -come for my answer." -</p> - -<p> -Mona raised her eyes. -</p> - -<p> -"What answer do you want, Mr Dickinson?" she said -quietly. -</p> - -<p> -If the Sahib had been absolutely honest he would have -replied, "Upon my soul, I don't know!" but there are -moments when the best of men think it necessary to adapt the -truth to circumstances. Before Mona came to Edinburgh he -had certainly regretted those hasty words of his at the ball; -but, now that he was in her presence again, now especially -that he was alone in her presence, the old charm returned -with all its force. Doris was a pearl, but Mona was a -diamond; Doris was spotless, but Mona was crystalline. If -only he had met either of these women three years ago, -what a happy man he would have been! The Sahib had -lived a pure, straightforward life, and he was almost -indignant with Nature and the Fates for placing a man like him -on the horns of such a dilemma; but Nature has her -freaks—and her revenges. When he was alone with the pearl, -the diamond seemed hard, and its play of colours dazzling; -when he was alone with the diamond—but no, he could not -admit that even the clearness and brilliancy of the diamond -suggested a want in the pearl. -</p> - -<p> -"I am not a boy," he said hastily, almost indignantly, -"not to know my own mind." -</p> - -<p> -True man as she knew him to be, his words rang false on -Mona's sensitive ear. She rose slowly from her chair and -stood before the fire. -</p> - -<p> -"Nor am I a girl," she said, "not to know mine. It is -no fault of mine, Mr Dickinson, that you did not take -my answer two months ago. I can only repeat it now," -and she turned to leave the room. -</p> - -<p> -He felt keenly the injustice and justice of her anger; but -he was too honest to complain of the first without pleading -guilty to the second. -</p> - -<p> -"Considering all that has passed between us," he said -simply, "I think you might have said it less unkindly." -</p> - -<p> -He was conscious of the weakness of the answer, but -to her it was the strongest he could have made. It brought -back the brotherly Sahib of former days, and her conscience -smote her. -</p> - -<p> -"Was I unkind?" she said, turning back. "Indeed, I -did not mean to be; but I thought you were honest enough, -and knew me well enough, to come and say you had made -a mistake. I was hurt that you should think me so small." She -hesitated. "Sahib," she said, "Doris and I have been -friends ever since we were children, and no man has ever -known both of us without preferring her. I can scarcely -believe that any man will have the luck to win her, but -I could not be jealous of Doris——" -</p> - -<p> -She stopped short. At Christmas she could have said -the words with perfect truth, but were they true now? The -question flashed like lightning through her mind, and the -Sahib watched her with intense interest while she answered -it. Her face grew very pale, and her lips trembled. She -leaned her arm against the mantelpiece. -</p> - -<p> -"Sahib," she said, "life gets so complicated, and it is so -difficult to tell what one is bound to say. You asked me -if—if—there was somebody else. There is somebody else; -there was then. I did not lie to you. I did not know. -And even now—he—has not said——" -</p> - -<p> -She broke off abruptly, and left the room. -</p> - -<p> -The Sahib lifted up the book she had laid down, and -carefully read the title-page again, without really seeing one -word. The question had indeed been settled for him, and -at that moment he would have given wellnigh everything -he possessed, if he could have been the man to win and -marry Mona Maclean. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap47"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XLVII. -<br /><br /> -THE DISSECTING-ROOM. -</h3> - -<p> -It was the luncheon-hour, and the winter term was -drawing to a close. The dissecting-room was deserted by -all save a few enthusiastic students who had not yet wholly -exhausted the mysteries of Meckel's ganglion, the branches -of the internal iliac, or the plantar arch. For a long time a -hush of profound activity had hung over the room, and the -silence had been broken only by the screams of a parrot and -the cry of the cats'-meat-man in the street below; but by -degrees the demoralising influence of approaching holidays -had begun to make itself felt; in fact, to be quite frank, -the girls were gossiping. -</p> - -<p> -It was the dissector of Meckel's ganglion who began it. -</p> - -<p> -"If you juniors want a piece of advice," she said, laying -down her forceps,—"a thing, by the way, which you never -do want, till an examination is imminent, and even then -you don't take it,—you may have it for nothing. Form -a clear mental picture of the spheno-maxillary fossa. When -you have that, the neck of anatomy is broken. Miss -Warden, suppose, just to refresh all our memories, you run -over the foramina opening into the spheno-maxillary fossa, -and the structures passing through them." -</p> - -<p> -The dissector of the plantar arch groaned. -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Don't!</i>" she entreated in assumed desperation. "With -the examination so near, it makes me quite ill to be asked a -question. I should not dare to go up, if Miss Clark were -not going." -</p> - -<p> -"I should not have thought she was much stand-by." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, but she is! If she passes, I may hope to. I was -dissecting the popliteal space the other day, and she asked -me if it was Scarpa's triangle!" -</p> - -<p> -A murmur of incredulity greeted this statement. -</p> - -<p> -"She has not had an inferior extremity," said a young -girl, turning away from the cupboard in which the skeleton -hung. "You can only learn your anatomy by dissecting -yourself." -</p> - -<p> -"It is a heavy price to pay," said she of the spheno-maxillary -fossa: "and a difficult job at the best, I should -fancy." -</p> - -<p> -There was a general laugh, in which the girl at the -cupboard joined. -</p> - -<p> -"Where it is completed by the communicating branch of -the dorsalis pedis," said Miss Warden irrelevantly. "I am -no believer in <i>Ellis and Ford</i> myself," she went on, looking -up, "but I do think one might learn from it the general -whereabouts of Scarpa's triangle." -</p> - -<p> -"Come now, Miss Warden, you know we don't believe -that story. Have you decided whether to go to Edinburgh -or Glasgow for your second professional, Miss Philips?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, Glasgow," said the investigator of the internal iliac, -almost impatiently. "I need all the time I can get. I -have not begun to read the brain and special sense. Where -can one get a bullock's eye?" -</p> - -<p> -"At Dickson's, I fancy." -</p> - -<p> -"And where can one see a dissection of the ear? It is -so unsatisfactory getting it up from books." -</p> - -<p> -"There is a model of it in the museum." -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Model!</i>" The word was spoken with infinite contempt. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you know what it is, Miss Philips? You are thrown -away on those Scotch examinations. Why did you not go -in for the London degree?" -</p> - -<p> -"Matric.," was the laconic response. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, the Matric. is nothing!" -</p> - -<p> -"Besides, I could not afford the time. Six years, even if -one was lucky enough not to get ploughed." -</p> - -<p> -"Talking of being ploughed," said a student who had just -entered the room, "you won't guess whom I have just -met?—Miss Maclean." -</p> - -<p> -"Miss Maclean?—in London?" -</p> - -<p> -"In the chemical laboratory at the present moment. She -is going up for her Intermediate again, in July." -</p> - -<p> -"Who is Miss Maclean?" asked the girl who had been -studying the skeleton. -</p> - -<p> -There was a general exclamation. -</p> - -<p> -"Not to know her, my dear," said the new-comer, "argues -yourself—quite beneath notice. Miss Maclean is one of the -Intermediate Chronics." -</p> - -<p> -"Miss Maclean is an extremely clever girl," said Miss -Warden. -</p> - -<p> -"When I first came to this school," said Miss Philips, "I -wrote to my people that women medical students were very -much like other folks, but that one or two were really -splendid women; and I instanced Miss Maclean." -</p> - -<p> -"The proof of the student is the examination." -</p> - -<p> -"That is not true—except very broadly. You passed your -Intermediate at the first go-off, but none of us would think -of comparing you to Miss Maclean." -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you," was the calm reply. "I always did appreciate -plain speaking. It is quite true that I never went -in for very wide reading, nor for the last sweet thing in -theories; but I have a good working knowledge of my subjects -all the same—at least I had at the time I passed." -</p> - -<p> -"Miss Maclean is too good a student; that is what is the -matter with her." -</p> - -<p> -The dissector of Meckel's ganglion laughed. "Miss -Maclean is awfully kind and helpful," she said; "but I -shall never forget the day when I asked her to show me the -nerve to the vastus externus on her own dissection. She -drew aside a muscle with hooks, and opened up a complicated -system of telephone wires that made my hair stand -on end." -</p> - -<p> -"I know. For one honest nerve with a name, she shows -you a dozen that are nameless; and the number of -abnormalities that she contrives to find is simply appalling." -</p> - -<p> -"In other words, she has a spirit of genuine scientific -research," said Miss Philips. "It does not say much for the -examiners that such a woman should fail." -</p> - -<p> -A student who had been studying a brain in the corner of -the room, looked up at this moment, tossing back a mass of -short dark hair from her refined and intellectual face. -</p> - -<p> -"Poor examiners," she said. "Who would wish to stand -in their shoes? Miss Maclean may be a good student, and -she may have a spirit of genuine scientific research; but -nobody fails for either of those reasons. Miss Maclean sees -things very quickly, and she sees them in a sense exactly. -She puts the nails in their right places, so to speak, and -gives them a rap with the hammer; she fits in a great -many more than there is any necessity for, but she does not -drive them home. Then, when the examination comes, some -of the most essential ones have dropped out, and have to be -looked for all over again. It was a fatal mistake, too, to -begin her Final work before she had passed her -Intermediate. I don't know what subject Miss Maclean failed in, -but I am not in the least surprised that she failed." -</p> - -<p> -Her audience heard the last sentence in a kind of -nightmare; for Mona had entered the room, and was standing -listening, a few yards behind the speaker. The girl turned -round quickly, when she saw the conscious glances. -</p> - -<p> -"I did not know you were there, Miss Maclean," she said -proudly, indignant with herself for blushing. -</p> - -<p> -Mona drew a stool up to the same table, and sat down. -</p> - -<p> -"It is I who ought to apologise, Miss Lascelles," she said, -"for listening to remarks that were not intended for me; but -I was so much interested that I did not stop to think. One -so seldom gets the benefit of a perfectly frank diagnosis." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know that it was perfectly frank. Some one was -abusing the examiners, and I spoke in hot blood——" -</p> - -<p> -"It seems to me that statements made in hot blood are -the only ones worth listening to—if we have a germ of -poetry in us. Statements made in cold blood always prove -to be truisms when you come to analyse them." -</p> - -<p> -"And one thing I said was not even true—I <i>was</i> surprised -when you failed." -</p> - -<p> -Mona was not listening. "What you said was extremely -sensible," she said, "but so neatly put that one is instinctively -on one's guard against it. It is a dreary metaphor—driving -in nails; and, if it be a just one, it describes exactly my -quarrel with medicine, from an examination point of view. -Why does not one big nail involve a lot of little ones? Or -rather, why may we not develop like trees, taking what -conduces to our growth, and rejecting the rest? Why are we -doomed to make pigeon-holes, and drive in nails?" -</p> - -<p> -"But the knowledge a doctor requires is in a sense unlike -any other. He wants it, not for himself, but for other -people." -</p> - -<p> -"And so we come back to the eternal question, whether a -man benefits humanity more by self-development or -self-sacrifice? Does knowledge that is fastened on as an -appendage ever do any good? Have not the great specialists, the -men of genius, who are looked upon as towers of strength, -worked mainly at the thing they enjoyed working at?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," said Miss Lascelles, "but they passed their -examinations first." -</p> - -<p> -Mona laughed. "True," she said, "I own the soft -impeachment; and there you have the one and only argument -in favour of girls beginning to study medicine when they are -quite young. It is so easy for them to get up facts and -tables." -</p> - -<p> -"I think one requires to get up less, in the way of facts -and tables, for the London than for any other examination. -It is more honest, more searching, than any other." -</p> - -<p> -Mona smiled—a very sad little smile. "Perhaps," she said. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know what you mean by knowledge that is -fastened on as an appendage never doing any good," said -the girl who held that the proof of the student was the -examination; "I don't profess to have found any mysterious -food for my intellectual growth in the action and uses of -rhubarb, but I don't find rhubarb any the less efficacious on -that account when I prescribe it." -</p> - -<p> -"But you open up a pretty wide field for thought when -you ask yourself, Why rhubarb rather than anything else?" -</p> - -<p> -"It is cheap," said the girl frivolously, "and it is always -at hand." -</p> - -<p> -No one vouchsafed any reply to this. -</p> - -<p> -"You have surely done enough to those brain sections for -one day, Miss Lascelles," said Mona; "won't you come and -lunch with me? It is only a few minutes' walk to my -rooms." -</p> - -<p> -The girl hesitated. "Thank you," she said suddenly—"I -will. I shall be ready in five minutes." -</p> - -<p> -She slipped from her high stool, and stood putting away -her things—a tiny figure scarcely bigger than a child, yet -full of character and dignity. -</p> - -<p> -"In the meantime come and demonstrate this tiresome -old artery, Miss Maclean," said Miss Philips. "I am getting -hopelessly muddled." -</p> - -<p> -"If you knew the surroundings in which I have spent -the last six months," said Mona, smiling, "you would not -expect me to know more than the name of the internal iliac -artery. I shall be very glad to come and look at your -dissection though, if I may." -</p> - -<p> -"You see I have not forgotten the kindness you showed -me when I first began." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't remember any kindness on my part. You were -kind enough to let me refresh my memory on your -dissection, I know." -</p> - -<p> -"That's one way of putting it. Do you remember my -asking you how closed tubes running through the body -could do it any good?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes; and I remember how delighted I was with the -intelligence of the question. Heigh-ho! what a child you -seemed to me then!" -</p> - -<p> -She took the forceps in her hand, and in a moment the -old enthusiasm came back. -</p> - -<p> -"How very interesting!" she said. "Look at this deep -epigastric." -</p> - -<p> -And a quarter of an hour had passed before she -remembered her guest and her luncheon. -</p> - -<p> -"I am so sorry," she said, pulling off the sleeves she had -donned for the moment. "Is anybody going to dissect -during the summer term? Shall I be able to get a part?" -</p> - -<p> -The two girls walked home together to Mona's rooms, -Miss Lascelles's diminutive figure, in its half-æsthetic, -half-babyish gown and cape, forming a curious contrast to that -of her companion. -</p> - -<p> -"I really do apologise most humbly for my thoughtlessness," -said Mona. -</p> - -<p> -"Don't," replied the other, swinging her ungloved hand -and raising her slow pleasant voice more than was necessary -in the quiet street; "one does not see too much enthusiasm -in the world. It is good to have you back." -</p> - -<p> -"I feel rather like a Rip Van Winkle, as you may suppose." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes. The students seem to get younger every year. -It is a terrible pity. One does not see how they are ever -to take the place of some of the present seniors. What can -they know of life?" -</p> - -<p> -"And, as a natural consequence, the supply of medical -women will exceed the demand in the next ten years—in -this country. After that, things will level themselves, I -suppose; but at present, if a woman is to succeed, she must -be better than the average man." -</p> - -<p> -"Whereas at present we are getting mainly average -women, and of course the average woman is inferior to the -average man." -</p> - -<p> -"Heretic!" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, but wait till women have had their chance! When -they are really educated, things will be very different." -</p> - -<p> -"Do you think so? If I did not believe in women as -they are now, apart from a mythical posse, I should be -miserable indeed. I have a great respect for higher -education, but there is such a thing as Mother Nature as well." -</p> - -<p> -"Even Mother Nature has only had her say for half the -race." -</p> - -<p> -They entered the house, and presently sat down to the -luncheon-table. -</p> - -<p> -"Explanations are always a mistake," said Miss Lascelles -suddenly. -</p> - -<p> -"Always," said Mona, "and especially when there is no -occasion for them." -</p> - -<p> -"——but I should like to tell you that I thought out -that nail metaphor (God forgive the term!) in relation to -myself originally. It is because I am so familiar with that -weakness in myself, that I recognised, or fancied I -recognised, it in you. I think our minds are somewhat alike, -though, of course, you have a much fresher and brighter -way of looking at things than I." -</p> - -<p> -"——and I am the profounder student," she added -mentally. -</p> - -<p> -"Explanations are not always a mistake," said Mona. -"It was very kind of you to make that one. I should be -glad to think my cost of mind was like yours, but I am -afraid it is only the superficial resemblance which Giuseppe's -violins bore to those of the master." -</p> - -<p> -"It is pleasant, is it not, to leave dusty museums now -and then, and feel Science growing all around one? And -what I love about London University is, that it allows for -that kind of thing in its Honours papers. It is a case of -'This ought ye to have done, and not have left the other -undone.' But it is difficult to find time for both." -</p> - -<p> -"Ay, especially when one has to find time for so many -other things as well." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes. I feel that intensely. I hate to be insulated. -I must touch at more points than one. But I do try to -work conscientiously, or rather I don't try. It is my -nature. Study is a pure delight to me." -</p> - -<p> -"I expect you will be taking honours in all four subjects." -</p> - -<p> -"I find it a great help in any case to do the honours -work: it is so much more practical and useful; but it does -take a lot of time. I find it impossible to work more than -ten hours a day——" -</p> - -<p> -Mona laid down the fish-slice in horror. -</p> - -<p> -"Ten hours a day!" she exclaimed. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes; I tried twelve, but I could not keep it up." -</p> - -<p> -"I should hope not. I call eight hours spurting. I only -read for six, as a rule, and for the last fortnight before an -examination, only two." -</p> - -<p> -"Why?" -</p> - -<p> -"I can't read at the end. That is the ruin of me. Up -to the last fortnight, I seem to know more than most of my -fellow-students; but then I collapse, while they—they -withdraw into private life. What mystic rites and incantations -go on there I can't even divine; but they emerge all armed -<i>cap-à-pie</i>, conquering and to conquer, while I crawl out from -my lethargy to fail." -</p> - -<p> -"You have the consolation of knowing that you really -know your work better than they." -</p> - -<p> -"Do you know, I have had nearly enough of that kind of -consolation? I could make shift now to do with an inferior, -more tangible kind." -</p> - -<p> -"You will get that too this time." -</p> - -<p> -Mona sighed. "<i>How</i> I hope so!" she said. "Have some -more Chablis, and let us drink to our joint success." -</p> - -<p> -"I confess I was rather surprised that Miss Reynolds -passed. I am not given to meddling in other people's -affairs; but if Miss Reynolds is ever to take her degree at -all, it was quite time you came back. Have you seen her -yet?" -</p> - -<p> -"Only for a few minutes. She is coming to spend the -evening with me." -</p> - -<p> -"You know she used to hide a capacity for very earnest -work behind an aggravatingly frivolous exterior. Now it is -just the other way. She professes to be in earnest, but I -am sure she is doing nothing. You will wonder how I know, -when I am not at hospital; but quite a number of the students -have spoken of it. She never read widely. The secret -of her success was that she took good notes of the lectures, -and then got them up. But now they say she is taking no -notes at all, scarcely. It was very much against her, of -course, coming in in the middle of term; but one would have -predicted that that would only have made her work the -harder." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't think so. That is not what I should have -predicted. She really worked too hard last summer, and a -thorough reaction is a good sign. I think that is quite -sufficient to account for what you say. Miss Reynolds is a -healthy animal, and one may depend upon her instincts to -be pretty correct. She will accomplish all the more in the -end, for letting her mind lie fallow this year." -</p> - -<p> -But though Mona spoke with apparent certainty, she felt -rather uneasy. Lucy's letters had been few and unsatisfactory -of late; and her manner, when she met her old friend -at the station, had been more unsatisfactory still. -</p> - -<p> -"I can't force her confidence," Mona thought, when Miss -Lascelles was gone; "but I hope she will tell me what is -the matter. Poor little soul!" -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -It was pretty late in the evening when Lucy arrived, pale -and tired. "I have kept you waiting for dinner," she said; -"I am so sorry. A fractured skull came in just as I was -leaving, and I waited to see them trephine. They don't think it -will be successful, and—it made me rather faint. But it's -an awfully neat operation." -</p> - -<p> -Mona went to the table and poured out a glass of wine. -"Drink that," she said, "and then come to my bedroom and -have a good splash. I will do all the talking during dinner; -and when you are quite rested, you shall tell me the news." -</p> - -<p> -"Life will be a different thing, now you are back," Lucy -said, as they seated themselves at the table. "What lovely -flowers!" -</p> - -<p> -"You ought to admire them. Aunt Maud sent them from -your beloved Cannes. I do so admire that Frisia. It is -white and virginal, like Doris." -</p> - -<p> -The last remark was added hastily, for at the mention of -Cannes, Lucy had blushed violently and incomprehensibly. -</p> - -<p> -"I was at the School to-day," Mona went on. -</p> - -<p> -"Were you really? It must have been horrid going back." -</p> - -<p> -"It was very horrid to find the organic solutions in the -chemical laboratory at such a low ebb. But I suppose they -will be filled up again for the summer term." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, you know all those stupid old tests!" -</p> - -<p> -"It is precisely the part of the examination that I am -most afraid of. I have not your luck—or power of -divination. Why don't they ask us to find whether a hydroxyl -group is present in a solution, or something of that kind?" -</p> - -<p> -"Thank heaven, they don't!" -</p> - -<p> -"I wonder what a scientific chemist would say, if he were -asked to identify two organic mixtures in an hour and a -half!" -</p> - -<p> -"I did it in half an hour." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, but how? By tasting, and guessing, and adding I -in KI, or perchloride of iron." -</p> - -<p> -Lucy helped herself to more potato. -</p> - -<p> -"I seem to have heard these sentiments before," she said. -</p> - -<p> -Mona laughed. "Yes; and you are in a fair way to hear -them pretty frequently again, unless you keep out of my way -for the next four months." -</p> - -<p> -"Did you go into the dissecting-room?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes; and what do you think I found them dissecting?" -</p> - -<p> -"Anything new?" -</p> - -<p> -"Quite, I hope, in that connection—my unworthy self," -and Mona told the story of her little adventure. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, really," said Lucy indignantly, "those juniors want -a good setting down. I never heard such a piece of -bare-faced impudence in my life. What on earth do they know -about you, except that you are one of the best students in -the School?" -</p> - -<p> -"There, there, firebrand!" said Mona, much relieved to -see the old Lucy again, "I think you and I have been known -to say as much as that of our betters. In truth, it did me a -world of good. I was very morbid about going back to the -anatomy-room—partly because I had got out of tune with -the work, partly because I knew nobody would know what -to say to me, and there would be an awkward choice between -constrained remarks and more constrained silences. It was -a great relief to find myself and my failures taken frankly -for granted. How I wish people could learn that, unless -they can be superlatively tactful, it is better not to be -tactful at all; for of tact it is more true than of anything else, -that <i>ars est celare artem</i>. But, to return to the point we -started from, there is a great deal of truth in what Miss -Lascelles said. For the next four months I am going to spend -my life <i>driving in nails</i>." -</p> - -<p> -Lucy shivered. "Couldn't you screw them in?" she -suggested. "It would make so much less noise." -</p> - -<p> -Mona reflected for a moment. "No," she said, "there is -something in the idea of a good sharp rap with the hammer -that gives relief to my injured feelings." And she brought -her closed fist on the table with a force that sent a ruddy -glow across her white knuckles. -</p> - -<p> -"And now," she said, "it is your innings. I want to -know so many things. How do you like hospital?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, it is awfully interesting;" but Lucy's manner was -not enthusiastic. "I spotted a presystolic murmur yesterday." -</p> - -<p> -"H'm. Who said it was a presystolic? Did not you -find it very cold coming back to London from the sunny -South?" -</p> - -<p> -Lucy shivered again. "It was horrid," she said. -</p> - -<p> -"And you really had a good, gay, light-hearted time?" -</p> - -<p> -It was a full minute before the girl answered, "Oh yes," -she said hurriedly and emphatically. "It was delightful. -I—I was not thinking." -</p> - -<p> -"That is just what you were doing. A penny for your -thoughts." -</p> - -<p> -Again there was a silence. Evidently Lucy was strongly -tempted to make a clean breast of it. -</p> - -<p> -"I am in my father's black books," she said at last. -</p> - -<p> -Mona looked at her searchingly. That the statement was -true, she did not doubt; but that this was the sole cause of -Lucy's evident depression, she did not believe for a moment. -</p> - -<p> -"How have you contrived to get there?" she asked. -</p> - -<p> -"It is not such a remarkable feat as you think. I went -to Monte Carlo with the Munros." -</p> - -<p> -"Did he object?" -</p> - -<p> -"Awfully! You see, when I came to write about it, I -thought I would wait and tell them when I got home: but -Mr Wilson, one of the churchwardens, saw me there, and the -story leaked out." -</p> - -<p> -"But you did not play?" -</p> - -<p> -"No—not to call playing. Evelyn was so slow—I pushed -her money into place with the cue. But my father does not -think so much of that. It is my being there at all that he -objects to." -</p> - -<p> -"Just for once?" -</p> - -<p> -"Just for once. He said you would not have gone." -</p> - -<p> -"That is a profound mistake. I want very much to see a -gambling-saloon, and I certainly should have gone. I will -tell him so the first time I see him." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, Mona, don't! What is the use? Two blacks don't -make a white." -</p> - -<p> -"Truly; but, on the other hand, you can't make a black -white by painting it. Your father thinks me so much better -than I am, that he binds me over to be honest with him. -Besides, I want to defend my point. Of course, I should not -go if I thought it wrong. But, Lucy, that is not a thing -to worry about. It can't be undone now, even if you wished -it; and your father would be the last man in the world to -want you to distress yourself fruitlessly. Of all the men I -know, he is the most godlike, in his readiness to say, 'Come -now, and let us reason together.'" -</p> - -<p> -"I am not distressing myself," Lucy said, brightening up -with an evident effort. "Did I ever tell you, Mona, about -the boy we met at Monte Carlo? He had got into a fix and -was nearly frantic. We begged Lady Munro to speak to -him, and she invited him to Cannes, and ultimately she and -Sir Douglas sent him home. But it was such fun! He -proved to be a medical student, a St Kunigonde's man. I -was alone in the sitting-room when he called,—such a pretty -sunny room it was, with a sort of general creamy-yellow tone -that made my peacock dress simply lovely! Of course we fell -to comparing notes. He goes in for his second examination at -the Colleges in July, and you should have seen his face when -I told him I had passed my Intermediate M.B. Lond.! I -really believe it had never occurred to him that any woman -under thirty, and devoid of spectacles, could go in for her -Intermediate. He is coming to see me at the Hall." -</p> - -<p> -A poorer counterfeit of Lucy's racy way of telling a story -could scarcely have been imagined. Mona wondered much, -but she knew now that nothing more was to be got out of -her friend that night. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap48"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XLVIII. -<br /><br /> -CONFIDENCES. -</h3> - -<p> -It was a hot day in June, and "blessed Bloomsbury" was -converted into one great bakehouse. The flags in Gower -Street radiated out a burning glow; the flower-sellers had -much ado to preserve the semblance of freshness in their -dainty wares; and those of the inhabitants who were the -proud possessors of outside blinds were an object of envy to -all their neighbours. -</p> - -<p> -Mona was sitting at her writing-table, pen in hand, and -with a formidable blue schedule before her. She was looking -out of the window, but in her mind's eye the dusty, glaring -street had given place to the breezy ramparts of Castle -Maclean; and, instead of the noise of the traffic, she heard -the soft plash of the waves. Presently she laid down her -pen, and leaned against the scorching window-sill, with a -smile, not on her lips, but in her eyes. -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "My spirit and my God shall be<br /> - My seaward hill, my boundless sea,"<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -she quoted softly. -</p> - -<p> -"What, Mona, caught poetising!" said Lucy unceremoniously -entering the room. -</p> - -<p> -"Far from it," said Mona drily. "I was engaged on the -most prosaic work it is possible to conceive, filling in the -schedule for my Intermediate. It seems to me that I -have spent the greater part of my life filling in the schedule -for my Intermediate. If I fail again I shall employ an -amanuensis for the sole purpose. Come and help me. Full -Christian name and surname?" -</p> - -<p> -"Mona Margaret Maclean." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, drop the Margaret! I am prepared to take the chance -of there being another Mona Maclean. Age, last birthday?" -</p> - -<p> -"Ninety-nine." -</p> - -<p> -"No doubt I shall fill that into an Intermediate schedule -some day, but not yet awhile. I wonder if they will have -reformed the Practical Chemistry by that time? Or will the -dear old M.B. Lond. have lost its <i>cachet</i> altogether? It is -warm to-day, is it not?" -</p> - -<p> -"Frightfully! I met Miss Lascelles just now, and she -informed me, in her bell-like voice, that if we were quite -civilised we should go about without any clothes at all just -now. I told her I hoped the relics of barbarism would last -out my time." -</p> - -<p> -"Then I presume Miss Lascelles will not throw her pearls -before swine again. Are you going to hospital?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not to-day. Hospital is unbearable in this weather. -The air is thick with microbes." -</p> - -<p> -Mona looked at her friend reflectively. "Suppose you -come down to Richmond with me," she said, "and blow -away a few of the microbes on the river?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, Mona, how lovely! But can you spare the time?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I began early to-day. But we will have some lunch -first. In the meantime I will sing you my last song, and -you shall criticise." -</p> - -<p> -"Are you still going on with your singing lessons? I -can't think how you find time for it." -</p> - -<p> -"I think it saves time in the end. It is a grand safety-valve; -and besides—a woman is robbed of half her armour -if she cannot use her voice." -</p> - -<p> -Her hands ran lightly up and down the keys of the -piano, and she began to sing Schubert's <i>Ave Maria</i>. -</p> - -<p> -"Miss Dalrymple says that is my <i>chef-d'[oe]uvre</i>," she said, -when she had finished. "What think you?" -</p> - -<p> -But Lucy made no answer. -</p> - -<p> -"Mona," she said a minute later, "do you think it is -worth while to go on the river, after all? It is rather a fag, -and why should we?" -</p> - -<p> -Her voice was husky, and suggestive of infinite weariness. -Mona rose from the piano, and deliberately, almost brutally, -took the girl's face between her hands, and turned it to the -light. She was not mistaken. The pretty eyes were dim -with tears. -</p> - -<p> -"Lucy," she said, "you and I have pretended long enough. -What is the use of friendship, if we never fall back upon it -in time of need? I want you to tell me what it was that -spoilt your visit to Cannes." -</p> - -<p> -"Nothing," said Lucy, with burning face, "unless, perhaps, -my own idiocy. Oh, Mona, you dear old bully, there -is not anything to tell! I thought I was always going to -get the best of it with men, and now a man has got the best -of it with me. It's only fair. Now you know the whole -story. Despise me as much as you like." -</p> - -<p> -"When I take to despising people, I imagine I shall have -to begin even nearer home than with my plucky little Lucy. -Will it be any use to tell me about it, do you think? Or is -the whole story better buried?" -</p> - -<p> -"I can't bury it. And yet there is positively nothing to tell. -When I look back upon it all, I cannot honestly say that -the flirtation went any farther than half-a-dozen others have -gone; but this time, somehow, everything was different." -</p> - -<p> -"Is he a friend of the Munros?" -</p> - -<p> -Lucy nodded. "Yes—you know—Mr Monteith. He -arrived at the hotel the night of our first dance. I was -wearing my mermaid costume for the first time, and—I saw -him looking at me again and again. He was not particularly -handsome, but there was a sort of bloom about him, -don't you know? He made me feel so common and work-a-day. -And then when I danced with him I felt as if I had -never danced with a man in my life before. I did not see -very much of him;—Lady Munro was so particular:—but -one afternoon a party of us walked up to the chapel on the -hill, and he and I got apart from the others somehow. It -was the first time I had seen the Maritime Alps, and I never -again saw them as they were that day in the sunset light. -It was like looking into a golden future. Well, he went -away. I was awfully low-spirited for a day or two; but -somehow, whenever I thought of that evening on the hill, -I felt as if the future was full of beautiful possibilities. -One day we went to Monte Carlo, and there I met him -again. He asked if I would like him to come back for -a day or two to Cannes, and I said I did not care. He -never came. Sometimes I wish I had begged him to,—yes, -Mona, I have sunk as low as that—and sometimes I think -he must have read my poor little secret all along, and I -could kill myself for very shame. Oh, Mona, I wish you -could take me out of myself!" -</p> - -<p> -"You poor little soul! Lucy, dear, it sounds very trite -and commonplace; but, by hook or by crook, you must get -an interest in your hospital work, and go at it as hard as -ever you can." -</p> - -<p> -"It is no use. I hate hospital. I wonder now how I -ever could care so much about prizes and marks and -examinations. It is all such child's-play." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes; but sorrow is not child's-play, and pain and death -are not child's-play. It is only a question of working at it -hard enough, old woman. You are bound to become interested -in it in time, and that is the only way to get rid of -yourself;—though it is strange teaching, perhaps, to come -from self-centred me. They say we women of this generation -have sacrificed a good deal of our birthright; don't let -us throw away the grand compensation, the power to light -our candles when the sun goes down. Do you remember -Werther's description of the country lass whose sweetheart -forsakes her, taking with him all the interest in her life? -We at least have other interests, Lucy, and we can, if we -try hard enough, turn the key on the suite of enchanted -rooms, and live in the rest of the house." -</p> - -<p> -"The rest of my house is a poky hole!" -</p> - -<p> -Mona sighed sympathetically. "No matter," she said -resolutely; "we must just set to work, and make it -something better than a poky hole." -</p> - -<p> -Further conversation was prevented for the time by the -entrance of the luncheon-tray. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, is it to be Richmond?" said Mona, when the meal -was over. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy blushed. "I have a great mind to go to hospital, -after all," she said. "I don't think it is quite so hot as -it was." -</p> - -<p> -"No, I think there is a suspicion of a breeze. <i>Au revoir</i>! -Come back soon." -</p> - -<p> -I wish I could honestly say that Mona profited as much -by Lucy's example as Lucy had by Mona's preaching; but I -am forced to record that she did not open a book, nor return -to her little laboratory, for the rest of the day. For a long -time she sat in her rocking-chair with a frown on her brow. -"I wonder if he has only been playing with her," she -said—"the cad!" Then another thought crossed the outskirts -of her mind. At first it scarcely entered the limits of her -consciousness; but, like the black dog in <i>Faust</i>, it went -on and on, in ominous, ever-narrowing circles, and she was -forced to recognise that she must grapple with it sooner or -later. Then she put up her hands to cover her face, although -there was no one there to see, and the question sounded -in her very ears—"What if <i>he</i> has only been playing -with <i>me</i>?" -</p> - -<p> -What then, Mona? Lock the door on the suite of enchanted -rooms, and live in the rest of the house! But she -never thought of her advice to Lucy. She threw herself on -the couch, and lay there for a little while in an agony of -shame. After all her lofty utterances, had she given herself -away to a man who had not even asked for her? Why had -he not spoken just one word, to save her from this torture? -</p> - -<p> -By some curious chain of associations the words flashed -into her mind— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "Denn, was man schwarz auf weiss besitzt,<br /> - Kann man getrost nach Hause tragen."<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -She laughed a little breathlessly, and drew her hand across -her damp forehead. -</p> - -<p> -"I am a fool and a coward," she said; "I will ask Dr -Alice Bateson to give me a tonic. What do mere words -matter, after all, between people like him and me?" -</p> - -<p> -She walked up to a calendar that hung on the wall, and -carefully counted the days till the second week in August. -Then she sighed regretfully. -</p> - -<p> -"Poor little Lucy," she said, "what an unsympathetic -brute she must have thought me!" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap49"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XLIX. -<br /><br /> -THE INTERMEDIATE. -</h3> - -<p> -The classic precincts of Burlington House were once more -invaded by a motley crowd of nervous, excited young men, -who hung about the steps and entrance-hall, poring over -their note-books, exchanging "tips," or coolly discussing the -points of the women. -</p> - -<p> -"None of them are so good-looking as the little girl with -the red hair, who was up last year," Mona overheard one of -them say, and she made a mental note to inform Lucy of -her conquest. -</p> - -<p> -About half-a-dozen girls were already assembled in the -cloak-room when she entered. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, Miss Maclean, how are you feeling?" -</p> - -<p> -"Hardened," said Mona, taking off her hat, but she did -not look particularly hardened. -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "'In my heart if calm at all<br /> - If any calm, a calm despair,'"<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -quoted Miss Lascelles. -</p> - -<p> -"Do tell me about the cardiac branches of the pneumo-gastric," -said some one. -</p> - -<p> -Miss Lascelles proceeded to give the desired information, -while the others discussed the never-settled question of the -number of marks required for a pass. -</p> - -<p> -"It seems to me that <i>x</i> equals the most you can make -plus one," and Mona sighed resignedly. -</p> - -<p> -"Now, ladies, please," said an imposing individual in -broadcloth, and the little party was marshalled through the -hall to the examination-room. -</p> - -<p> -"Why has Miss Maclean done her hair like that?" said a -student with a mind at leisure from itself. "It is not half -so becoming as the old way." -</p> - -<p> -Nor was it. Mona had made the alteration in order to -change the outline of her head as much as possible, for she -was most anxious that Dr Dudley should not recognise her, -in surroundings that did not admit of an explanation on her -part. She did not venture to raise her eyes as she entered -the room, and as soon as she was seated, she bent low over -the pink and green cahiers that lay on her desk. A minute -later the examination papers were distributed, and for three -hours neither Dudley nor any other human being had any -existence for her. She wrote on till the last moment—wrote -on, in fact, till the examiner, Dudley's "monument of -erudition," came up and claimed her paper. -</p> - -<p> -"I think I have seen you before," he said kindly. -</p> - -<p> -"Twice," said Mona smiling, "and I am afraid you are -in a fair way to see me again." -</p> - -<p> -He looked at her with some amusement and interest in -his shrewd Scotch face. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't think you are much afraid of that," he said. -</p> - -<p> -Mona followed him with her eye, as he turned away, and -in another moment saw him at the other end of the room, -shaking hands very cordially with Dr Dudley. She turned -her back, and, hastily gathering together her pens and -coloured chalks, she left the room. Her heart beat fast -with apprehension till she reached the open air; and, as she -walked up to Regent Street for lunch, she fancied every -moment that she heard his step behind her. -</p> - -<p> -But she need not have feared. For the three days that -the written examination lasted, Dudley was aware of a -patch of colour at the opposite side of the hall, where the -women sat; but he was too indifferent and preoccupied -to investigate its details. He felt so old among those boys -and girls; his one wish was to get the examination over, -and be done with it. -</p> - -<p> -Now that she knew where he sat, Mona had no difficulty -in avoiding his short-sighted eyes. In fact, as time went -on, she grew bolder, and loved to look on from a distance, -while Dudley's fellow-students gathered round and assailed -him with a torrent of questions, the moment each paper was -over. It was pleasant to see his relations with those -lads,—the friendly raillery which they took in such good part. -Clearly they looked upon him as a very good fellow, and a -mine of wisdom. -</p> - -<p> -"You are mere boys to him," thought Mona proudly. -"He is willing to play with you; but I am his friend!" -</p> - -<p> -Wednesday evening came at last, and with a mingled -sense of excitement, and of weariness that amounted to -physical pain, Mona went down the steps. -</p> - -<p> -Lucy was awaiting her in the street, and they betook -themselves to the nearest shop where they could get -afternoon tea. -</p> - -<p> -"Well," said Lucy, "what is your final judgment?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona sighed. "Anatomy, very fair," she said—"morning -paper especially; Physiology—between you and me and the -lamp-post—the best paper I ever did in my life; Chemistry, -safe, I think; Materia Medica—better at least than last time." -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Brava!</i>" cried Lucy. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, don't! I ought not to have said so much. It is -tempting the Fates." -</p> - -<p> -"No matter. With a record like that you can afford to -tempt the Fates. Oh, Mona, I do hope you have got -the Physiology medal!" She raised her teacup. "Here's -to Mona Maclean, Gold Medallist in Physiology!" -</p> - -<p> -"No, no, no," said Mona. "My paper is not on those -lines at all, and the Practical is still to come." -</p> - -<p> -"And who is better prepared for that than you, with your -private laboratory, and all the rest of it?" -</p> - -<p> -"I have often told you that the best work of the world is -rarely done with the best instruments." -</p> - -<p> -Lucy groaned. "If three days' examination won't keep -her from moralising," she said, "it may safely be predicted -that nothing will. What a prospect?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona wrote to Rachel that night, fixing the day and hour -of her arrival at Borrowness some three weeks later; and the -next day she went down to Bournemouth to visit some -friends. Only a very unlikely chance could have taken -Dudley to Bournemouth too, but Mona never saw a tall and -lanky figure on the cliffs, without a sudden wild fancy that -it might be he. There was a good deal of gladness in her -agitation at these times, but she did not really want to see -him there. No, no; let things take their course! Let it -all come about quietly and naturally, at dear old Castle -Maclean, in the second week of August! -</p> - -<p> -She returned to town a few days before the Practical -Examination, and found a letter from Rachel awaiting her. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -"MY DEAR COUSIN,—I was very pleased to get your letter, -telling me when you were coming to pay me a visit; but -there has been a great change in my life since last I wrote -you. You know I have never been the same being since you -went away. That Miss Jenkins, that you thought so much -of, did very well in the shop, and was good at figures, but -she was not like one of my own folk. Then she was a U.P., -and she had friends of her own that she always wanted to go -to in the evening; and many's the time I've been so dull -that if it hadn't been for Sally I believe I'd have gone clean -daft. I wrote and told Mary Ann about it, and she wrote -back saying, wouldn't I go and join her in America? Of -course I never thought of such a thing, but I spoke to my -friends about her writing, and a few days after I got a very -good offer for the goodwill of the business. It really was -like a leading, but I never thought of that at the time. -Then, without waiting to hear from me, Mary Ann wrote -again, begging me to come. There was word of a baby -coming, and naturally at such a time she took a longing for -her own flesh and blood. She never was one of your -independent ones. Then I began to think I would like to go, -but I'd an awful dread of the sea and the strangeness. -Well, would you believe it? four days ago, Mrs Anderson -came in and told me her brother was sailing to America in -about ten days, with all his family from Glasgow, and he -would be very glad to look after me if I would take my -passage by the same steamer. So that settled it somehow. -It's a queer-like thing, after sitting still all one's life, to make -such a move all in a minute; but there seems to be the hand -of Providence in it all, and Mary Ann says some of their -acquaintances are most genteel, and the minister of the -Baptist Chapel preaches the word with power. -</p> - -<p> -"So you see, my dear, I shall be sailing from Glasgow -the very day you were meaning to come to me. I am all in -an upturn, as you may think, with a sale in the house and -what not; but if you would come a week sooner, I'd be very -pleased to see you. If you could have been happy to stay -with me, I never would have thought of all this; but I never -could have gone on as I was doing, though it is a terrible -trial to break off all the old ties. -</p> - -<p> -"You must write to me often and tell me what you are -doing, and whether there is any word of your settling down -in life. -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> - "Your affectionate Cousin,<br /> - "RACHEL SIMPSON.<br /> -</p> - -<p> -"<i>P.S.</i>—Do you know of anything that is good for the -seasickness?" -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -It was some time before Mona grasped the full consequences -of this letter. She even allowed herself to wonder for a -moment whether Mary Ann's difficulty in finding a lady-help -had anything to do with this cordial invitation. But that -fancy was soon crowded out of her mind by the formidable -situation that had to be faced. No Rachel, no shop,—nothing -more outside of herself to blush for; but, on the other -hand, no wind-swept coast, no Castle Maclean, no long-postponed -explanation, no Dr Dudley! The truth came upon -her with a force that was absolutely crushing. -</p> - -<p> -"I might have known it," she said, looking out of the -window, with white lips and unseeing eyes. "I was -counting on it too much. It has been the pivot on which my -whole life has turned." -</p> - -<p> -Then a bright idea occurred to her. Auntie Bell had -plenty of spare room in the farmhouse, and she was sure the -dear old woman would be glad to have a visit from her at -any time. -</p> - -<p> -But, when she timidly suggested it, Auntie Bell wrote back -in great distress to say that, after much persuasion, she had -let her up-stairs rooms to an artist for August. She would -be so proud and pleased if Mona would come to her in -September. -</p> - -<p> -But Mona had promised to join the Munros on the 15th -of August. -</p> - -<p> -There still remained the chance of the Practical Examination; -but Mona knew by experience that the initials D. and -M. came sufficiently far apart in the alphabet to make it very -unlikely that the owners of them would be called up at the -same time. -</p> - -<p> -Nor were they. Neither at Burlington House, nor at the -Embankment, did Mona see a trace of her friend. At the -Practical Physiology examination, all the students were -called up together, but Mona did not take the pass paper; -she went in for honours the following day, and her first -glance round the handful of enthusiasts assembled for six -hours' unbroken work was sufficient to convince her that Dr -Dudley was not there. In this subject at least he had -evidently contented himself with a pass. In the bitterness of -her disappointment, she cared little for the results of the -examination, and so worked coolly with a steady hand. -When she was called up for her Viva she vaguely felt that -she was doing better than her best, but she did not care. -</p> - -<p> -At last it was over—the examination which had once -seemed to be wellnigh the aim and end of existence; and -now, though conscious of having done well, she threw herself -on the hearth-rug, in a fit of depression that was almost -maddening. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh God," she groaned, "help me! I cannot bear it!" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap50"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER L. -<br /><br /> -SUCCESS OR FAILURE? -</h3> - -<p> -Once more the lists were posted at the door of the -university, and once more a group of eager faces had gathered -round to read them. Presently a tall figure came swinging -down the street, and, ignoring the Pass-list altogether, made -straight for the Honours. -</p> - -<p> -It was all right,—better than he had dared to hope. -</p> - -<p class="t3"> - ANATOMY.<br /> - <i>First Class.</i><br /> -<br /> - DUDLEY, RALPH, St Kunigonde's Hospital.<br /> - Exhibition and Gold Medal.<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Ralph's heart gave a great leap of thanksgiving. -</p> - -<p> -"Now," he said almost audibly, "I can go down to -Borrowness, and ask Miss Maclean in so many words to be -my wife." -</p> - -<p> -As if the paper in front of him had heard the words, his -eye caught the name Maclean below his own. He looked -again. Yes, there was no imagination about it. -</p> - -<p class="t3"> - PHYSIOLOGY.<br /> - <i>First Class.</i><br /> -<br /> - MACLEAN, MONA, Lond. Sch. of Med. for Women.<br /> - Exhibition and Gold Medal.<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Mona Maclean—<i>her</i> name was Margaret. She had told -him so that day at Castle Maclean, and he had seen it in -a well-worn prayer-book in Mr Ewing's church. But the -coincidence was a curious one. He turned sharply round -and touched a fellow-student on the arm. -</p> - -<p> -"Who," he said hastily, "is Miss Mona Maclean?" -</p> - -<p> -"Miss Maclean? Oh, she is one of their great dons at the -Women's School. She took a First Class in Botany the year -I passed my Prel. Sci." -</p> - -<p> -Certainly it was only a coincidence. No doubt this -woman was an out-and-out blue-stocking, in spite of her -pretty name; and even in the matter of brains he did not -believe she was a patch upon his princess. -</p> - -<p> -He knew his old aunt would be delighted to hear of his -success, but he would not telegraph, lest by any chance the -news should leak round to Mona. He wanted to tell her -himself. She had been so interested the day he had told -her the story of his life. He had not concealed its failures, -and he wanted to tell her with his own lips of this first -little bit of success. For, after all, it was a success to be -M'Diarmid's medallist. No man who had scamped his work -could possibly hold such a position as that; and Miss -Maclean was so quick, so sympathetic, she would see in a -moment how much it meant. It seemed almost too good to -be true, that this time to-morrow he would be sitting with -her, alone on her storm-tossed battlements, free to talk of his -love, and to draw her secret from half-willing lips—free to -build all sorts of castles in the air, and to sketch the bold -outline of a perfect future. -</p> - -<p> -He looked at his watch, and wondered how he was to -exist till eight o'clock, when the night express left for -Edinburgh. He scarcely heard the congratulations that were -heaped upon him by one and another of his friends, so eager -was he to hear what she would say. -</p> - -<p> -The examination was over now—well over. He was free -for the first time to give the reins to his thoughts, and to -follow whithersoever they beckoned; and a wild dance they -led him, over giddy heights that made his brain reel and his -pulse leap high with infinite longing. The dusty streets -might have been Elysian fields for all he knew; in so far as -he saw outward things at all, he saw them through a rose-hued -medium of love. Introspection was almost dead within -him—almost, but not quite—enough remained to fill him -with intensest gratitude that this complete abandonment -should have come to him. -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "Oh let the solid ground not fail beneath my feet,<br /> - Before my life has found what some have found so sweet!"<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -How often he had uttered those words, scarcely daring to -hope that his prayer would be granted; and now he had -found what he longed for, and surely no man before had -ever found it so sweet. -</p> - -<p> -"Holloa! cutting old friends already?" said a merry -voice in his ear. "Some people are very quickly blinded by -success." -</p> - -<p> -"Why, Melville, what brings you here?" -</p> - -<p> -"I was on my way to the university to find out how many -medals you have got. Your face proclaims four at least." -</p> - -<p> -"I am sorry it is so deceptive. I have only got one." -</p> - -<p> -"Anatomy?" -</p> - -<p> -"Anatomy." -</p> - -<p> -"Played! Anything else?" -</p> - -<p> -"No. A second class in chemistry." -</p> - -<p> -"And that's nothing? We have grown very high and -mighty all of a sudden. Who's got the medal in -physiology?" -</p> - -<p> -"A woman!" -</p> - -<p> -"Name?" -</p> - -<p> -"Miss—Maclean, I think;" and Dudley was amazed to -find himself blushing. -</p> - -<p> -"When do you go down?" -</p> - -<p> -"To-night." -</p> - -<p> -"That's right! But look here, dear boy. Take a word -of advice with you. Keep out of the way of the <i>siren</i>!" -</p> - -<p> -"You go to——!" Dudley stopped short, but his eyes -flashed fire. -</p> - -<p> -"It's a curious thing," he observed cynically, "how a man -can go through half his life without learning to hold his -tongue about his private affairs." -</p> - -<p> -Melville raised his eyebrows, and whistled a few notes of -a popular music-hall ditty. -</p> - -<p> -For about a hundred yards the two walked on in silence. -Then Ralph put his hand in his friend's arm. -</p> - -<p> -"Don't talk to me about it, Jack," he said, "there's a -good fellow, but I have been the most confounded snob that -ever lived." -</p> - -<p> -Nothing more was said till they parted at the street -corner, and then Melville stood and watched his friend out -of sight. -</p> - -<p> -"Another good man gone wrong!" he observed philosophically; -and, shrugging his shoulders, he made his way -back to the hospital. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -The long day and the interminable night were over. -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "Even an Eastern Counties train<br /> - Must needs come in at last."<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -And Dudley did actually find himself alighting at the -familiar little station on a bright August morning. Never -before had his home seemed so attractive to him. The strong -east wind was like wine, fleecy clouds chased each other -across a brilliant blue sky, and the first mellow glow was -just beginning to tinge the billowy acres of corn. The tall -trees at the foot of his aunt's garden threw broken shadows -across the quiet lawn. The beds were bright with old-fashioned -flowers, and the house, with its pillared portico, rose, -white and stately, beyond the sweep of the carriage-drive. -</p> - -<p> -"Welcome home, doctor!" said the gatekeeper's wife, -curtseying low as Ralph passed the lodge. "You're gey late -this year. Jeames cam' through frae Edinbury a fortnight -syne." -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose so," said Ralph, smiling pleasantly; "how is -he getting on?" -</p> - -<p> -"Vera weel, I thank ye, sir! He's brocht a prize buik -wi' him this time;" and the good woman's face beamed -with triumph. To the great pride of his family, the -gatekeeper's son was studying "to be a meenister." -</p> - -<p> -Mrs Hamilton came out to the door to meet her nephew, -and a pang shot through Ralph's heart as he saw how frail -she looked. -</p> - -<p> -"Why, I declare," he said, putting his arm round her -affectionately, "my old lady has been missing her -scapegrace." -</p> - -<p> -"Conceited as ever," she said, returning his caress, but the -rare tears stole into her eyes as she spoke. -</p> - -<p> -"You dear old thing! why didn't you send for me? And -Burns, too, promised to let me know." -</p> - -<p> -"Nonsense, laddie! There's nothing wrong. I have never -been ill. I am getting to be an old woman, that's all; and -I'm not so fond of east winds as I once was. Run up-stairs -while Dobson infuses the tea, and then come and tell me all -about the examination." -</p> - -<p> -The breakfast parlour was bright with flowers, and the -table was laden with good things. The window stood open, -and the bees hummed in and out in a flood of sunshine. -</p> - -<p> -"Grouse already!" exclaimed Ralph. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes; Lord Kirkhope and Sir Roderick have each sent a -brace." -</p> - -<p> -"What it is to live with the belle of the country-side, as -they say in the story-books!" -</p> - -<p> -"What it is to live with a spoilt and impertinent nephew! -Very well done, Ralph! I have no patience with a man who -does not know how to carve." -</p> - -<p> -"Carving ought to come easy to the Gold Medallist in -Anatomy, oughtn't it?" he said mischievously. -</p> - -<p> -"Are you really that?" -</p> - -<p> -"At your service." -</p> - -<p> -"And you have not shown it to me yet!" -</p> - -<p> -"Bless the old darling! I shall not see it myself till May. -The object of the medal is to remind a man of the mountain -of learning he has contrived to—forget!" -</p> - -<p> -Mrs Hamilton laughed. -</p> - -<p> -"How long a holiday can you take, Ralph?" she asked -presently. -</p> - -<p> -"A month. I ought to get back to hospital then, if you -are—sick of my company." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I'll be that, never fear! and I suppose you would -have no objection to spending a few weeks with me up in -the Highlands, when you get a little rested. It's not like -me, but I've a great longing for a change." -</p> - -<p> -"I daresay it would be a good plan," he answered very -gravely; and, quick as she was, she did not guess the throb -of dismay that shot through his heart. -</p> - -<p> -"You do look tired, Ralph, in spite of yourself," she said -a moment later. "Your room is all ready. Go and lie -down for a few hours." -</p> - -<p> -"No, no," he said restlessly. "I can't sleep during the -day. Let us have a drive; and this afternoon, while you -have your nap, I will go and smool on the beach. That rests -me more than anything." -</p> - -<p> -Smool! Oh Ralph! -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -He never doubted that he would find Mona at Castle Maclean. -She went there so often, and now she must know well -that any day might bring him, and that he would seek her -there. He had rehearsed the meeting so often in his mind; -and unconsciously he rehearsed it again this afternoon, as he -strode down the little footpath that led through the fields to -the sea. The tide was out. That was disappointing. -Sun-lit waves, rocking festoons of Fucus on their bosom, had -always formed part of his mental picture; but now the great -brown trails hung dry and motionless, from the burning rocks, -in the strong afternoon sun. -</p> - -<p> -Never mind! It was of no consequence after all. Two -minutes hence, he and she would have little thought to spare -for the tide and the Fucus. Ralph quickened his steps and -leapt up the side of the rock. -</p> - -<p> -But Castle Maclean was empty. -</p> - -<p> -"I need not have been in such a confounded hurry," he -muttered irritably, as he looked at his watch. "Miss -Simpson's mid-day dinner won't be over yet." -</p> - -<p> -But two hours passed away, and no one came. -</p> - -<p> -Miss Simpson's mid-day dinner must certainly be over -now. Ralph was bitterly disappointed. Miss Maclean had -always shown herself so much quicker, more perceptive, than -he had dared to hope. Why did she fail him now, just when -he had depended on her most? It took half the poetry out -of their relationship, to think that she had not understood, -that she had not counted on this meeting as he had. -</p> - -<p> -He made up his mind to go home; but he overrated his -own resolution; and in an incredibly short space of time, the -bell of Miss Simpson's shop rang as he opened the door. -</p> - -<p> -The shop was disappointing too. Everything was disappointing -to-day! There was no lack of new goods, but they -were displayed with a want of design and harmony that -jarred on his over-strained nerves; and, to crown all, an "air -with variations" was being very indifferently played on a -cracked piano up-stairs. The music stopped at the sound of -the bell, and a young woman came down-stairs. -</p> - -<p> -"Genus <i>minx</i>, species <i>vulgaris</i>." A moment was sufficient -to settle that question. Ralph was so taken aback that it -did not even occur to him to ask for india-rubber. -</p> - -<p> -"Is Miss Simpson in?" he said at last. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh lor'! no, sir. Miss Simpson sailed for America nearly -a week ago. My pa bought the business, and he means to -conduct it on quite a different scale. What is the first thing -I can show you to-day, air?" -</p> - -<p> -He tried to ask for Miss Maclean, but he could not bring -her name over his lips; so, lifting his hat, he hastily left the -shop. -</p> - -<p> -He emptied his first glass of wine at dinner, before he -ventured to broach the subject to his aunt. -</p> - -<p> -"You did not tell me Miss Simpson had emigrated," he -said suddenly. -</p> - -<p> -"Miss Simpson! What Miss Simpson? Bless the boy! he's -developing quite a taste for local gossip. I only heard -it myself three or four days ago. It seems that niece—whom -you thought such a genius, by the way—went to America -some time ago, and now her aunt has gone to join her." -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Nonsense!</i> I mean"—Ralph laughed rather nervously—"I -can't conceive of any one sending across the Atlantic -for old Simpson. And, besides—that—young lady—wasn't -her niece at all, auntie mine. She was a distant cousin." -</p> - -<p> -"I think you are mistaken, dear. The <i>young woman</i> -told me herself she was Miss Simpson's niece, and I suppose -she ought to know." -</p> - -<p> -Dimly it occurred to Ralph that he and his aunt must be -talking of two different people; but his mind was in such a -whirl of bewilderment that reflection was impossible, and as -soon as dinner was over, he escaped to his own room, on the -true plea of a racking headache. -</p> - -<p> -What had happened? Was it all a hideous nightmare, -from which he would awake with infinite relief; or was -some evil genius really turning his life upside down? What -an infernal idiot he had been not to speak out plainly six -months ago! And to think that he had waited only for -this examination,—this trumpery bit of child's-play! -Perhaps she had expected him to write, perhaps she had gone -to America in despair; at all events, she had vanished out -of his life like the heroine of a fairy tale, and he had not -the vaguest notion where to look for her. -</p> - -<p> -Then saner thoughts began to take form in his mind. He -was living, after all, in the latter part of the nineteenth -century. People could not vanish now-a-days and leave no -trace. There must be many in Borrowness who could tell -him where she was. -</p> - -<p> -Yes; but who were they? He knew few people in the -place, and he could not go round from door to door making -enquiries. -</p> - -<p> -At last, with a rush of thankfulness, he bethought himself -of Mr Stuart and Matilda Cookson. Both of them were sure -to know where Miss Maclean had gone. He looked at his -watch—yes, it was past his aunt's bedtime, and not too late -to drop in on Stuart. He told the servants not to sit up if -he should be late, and then he walked along the highroad -to Kirkstoun, at a pace few men could have equalled. -</p> - -<p> -Once more disappointment awaited him. Mr Stuart was -away for a month's holiday, and the manse was occupied by -his "supply." Dudley was certainly not intimate enough -with the Cooksons to pay them a visit at this hour; so he -was forced, sorely against his will, to postpone his enquiries -until the next day. -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose the Cooksons will be away for August too," -he said to himself many times during that restless night; -but Fortune favoured him at last. When he opened the -garden-gate next day, he found Matilda and her father on -the lawn. -</p> - -<p> -"Come away, doctor!" cried Mr Cookson heartily. "I -have got some cigars here that you won't get a chance to -smoke every day of your life. Come and tell us your news!" -</p> - -<p> -Fully half an hour passed before Dudley contrived to -bring the conversation round to Rachel Simpson's departure. -</p> - -<p> -"And has Miss Maclean gone to America too?" he said -indifferently, with his eyes fixed on the curling wreaths of -tobacco-smoke. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, bless my soul, no!" cried Mr Cookson, slapping his -visitor on the knee. "Did you never hear that story? It -was excellent,—excellent! Where do you think I saw Miss -Maclean last? Driving in Hyde Park in as elegant a -carriage as ever I wish to see. There was another lady with -her—leaning back, you know, with their lace and their -parasols,"—Mr Cookson attempted somewhat unsuccessfully -to demonstrate the attitude of the ladies in question,—"and -a young man riding alongside. A tip-top turn-out -altogether, I warrant you." -</p> - -<p> -Dudley's face darkened, but he waited for his host to -go on. -</p> - -<p> -"I had got wind of it before she left us," Mr Cookson -continued complacently, "from something Colonel Lawrence let -drop, and we had her here to dinner; a fine girl, a fine girl! -I remember when I was a boy hearing what a successful -man her grandfather was; but her people had been out of -the place so long, one never thought of one of them coming -back. Matilda knew about it all along, it seems; and she and -Miss Maclean were fast friends, but she kept it very close." -</p> - -<p> -"I found it out by accident," Matilda said with dignity; -"but no one with any perception could see Miss Maclean -and question that she was a lady." -</p> - -<p> -"I quite agree with you," Dudley said gravely; "but -did Miss Maclean confide to you what induced her to come -masquerading down here?" -</p> - -<p> -He regretted the words the moment they were spoken, -but it was too late to recall them. -</p> - -<p> -Matilda's face flushed. -</p> - -<p> -"If you knew Miss Maclean at all," she said, "you would -be ashamed to say that. She was not always wondering -what people would think of somebody's cousin, or somebody -else's niece; she was her very own self. The fact that she -had grand relations did not make Miss Simpson any the less -her cousin. It was as easy to Miss Maclean to claim kindred -with a vulgar woman in a shop as with a fine lady in a -ballroom." -</p> - -<p> -This was hyperbolical, no doubt; but as Dudley listened -to it, he wondered whether Mona could safely be judged by -the influence she had had on Matilda Cookson. -</p> - -<p> -One question more he had to ask. "Is she a medical -student?" -</p> - -<p> -"Bless my soul, no!" laughed Mr Cookson. "She has -no need to do anything for herself. In a small way she is -an heiress." -</p> - -<p> -This was rash; but, after acting the part of the one who -knows, Mr Cookson was unwilling to own his ignorance; -and, his idea of medical women being vague and alarming -in the extreme, it never crossed his mind that an attractive, -well-to-do young lady like Miss Maclean could possibly -belong to their ranks. -</p> - -<p> -Ralph turned to Matilda. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you know where Miss Maclean is now?" he said. -"In London?" -</p> - -<p> -"I had a letter from her yesterday," Matilda answered -proudly, drawing an oft-perused document from her pocket. -"She is just starting with a party of friends to travel in -Switzerland." -</p> - -<p> -"What a magnificent araucaria that is!" Dudley said -suddenly. -</p> - -<p> -"It would need be," replied Mr Cookson. "It cost me -a pretty penny, I can tell you." -</p> - -<p> -Then Dudley rose to go. His manner was playful, but -his heart was welling over with bitterness. He did not -realise the position in which he had placed the woman he -loved; it did not occur to him to think how much worse it -would have been if she had run after him, instead of -appearing to run away. He could not believe that she was -false, and yet—how she had deceived him! What madness -it was ever to trust to the honesty of a woman's eyes! -</p> - -<p> -"Well, old boy!" he said to himself cynically, as he -walked back to Carlton Lodge, "are we going to write our -'Sorrows of Werther' <i>once again</i>?" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap51"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER LI. -<br /><br /> -ANOTHER CHAT BY THE FIRE. -</h3> - -<p> -The last sodden leaves had fallen from the London trees, -and autumn was fast merging into winter. Mona sat alone -in her study, deep in a copy of <i>Balfour On the Heart</i>, which -she had picked up second-hand, on her way from hospital, -and had carried home in triumph. It was the height of -her ambition at this time to be "strong on the heart and -lungs"; and as she read she mechanically percussed the -arm of her big chair, with a lightness of touch which many -doctors might have envied. -</p> - -<p> -There was a knock at the door, and Miss Lascelles -entered the room. -</p> - -<p> -"That's right," said Mona, holding out her hand, "sit -down." -</p> - -<p> -"Thanks," was the reply, in Miss Lascelles's cultured, -musical drawl. "I am not going to stay. I came to ask -if you would lend me your notes of that leucocythæmia case. -I am working up the spleen just now." -</p> - -<p> -"I will, with pleasure. But don't be in such a hurry, -now that you have come so far. I never get a chance to -speak to you in hospital. Sit down and tell me what the -scientist thinks of it all." -</p> - -<p> -Miss Lascelles pulled off her hat unceremoniously, and -passed her hand through her dark hair. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, reform it altogether!" she cried. "There is a deal -of humbug in the profession, and I don't know that the -women have lessened it." -</p> - -<p> -Mona laughed. -</p> - -<p> -"What a born reformer you are!" she said admiringly. -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose I am. In other words, I shall never be a -successful doctor. <i>Kismet!</i> I don't see how any honest man -can live in this world and not be a reformer." -</p> - -<p> -"Don't you? Oh, I do." -</p> - -<p> -Miss Lascelles glanced round the pretty room. -</p> - -<p> -"I almost envy you," she said. "It must be very pleasant -to be able to shut one's eyes to abuses, and eat one's -pudding in comfort." -</p> - -<p> -"Ay, or to shut one's eyes to one's father's shortcomings, -and make the best of them." -</p> - -<p> -"It is not the shortcomings I object to, it is the false -pretensions. Give me honesty at all costs. Let everything be -open and above-board." -</p> - -<p> -"Honesty—honesty—honesty!" said Mona. "I sometimes -think I hate honesty; it is so often another name for -ingratitude and brutality. I care more for loyalty than for -all the other virtues put together. It is the loyal souls who -prepare the way for the reformer. His actual work is often -nothing more than the magnificent thrust with which a child -knocks down a castle of cards." -</p> - -<p> -"I believe in loyalty, too; but let us be loyal to the right, -not loyal to the wrong." -</p> - -<p> -"With all my heart, if you can contrive to separate the -right from the wrong. I never could. I am always brought -back to that grand bold line— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'Mit ihm zu irren ist dir Gewinn.'<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -You don't believe that?" -</p> - -<p> -Miss Lascelles laughed, and shook her head. "I don't -mean to go astray with anybody, if I can help it. I had no -idea, Miss Maclean, that you were so desperately—<i>mediæval</i>." -</p> - -<p> -Mona smiled. -</p> - -<p> -"I think it is rather Greek than mediæval to shut one's -eyes to abuses, and eat one's pudding in comfort. The -mediæval spirit renounces the pudding, and looks beyond -the abuses." -</p> - -<p> -Miss Lascelles sprang to her feet, and carelessly threw on -her broad picturesque hat. -</p> - -<p> -"I am neither Greek nor mediæval, then," she said, -involuntarily drawing up the sleeves from her plump pretty wrists -as she spoke; "for I choose to share my pudding, and wage -war to the death against the abuses." -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Brava!</i>" said Mona. "You are one of the sort that live -in history." -</p> - -<p> -"For knocking down a castle of cards?" -</p> - -<p> -"Nay, nay; I did not say that of all reformers." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, Miss Maclean, whatever your theories may be, you -have worked a grand reformation in Miss Reynolds." -</p> - -<p> -"Now that is precisely a case of the wrong man getting -the credit. That, at least, was the work of her own loyal -self." -</p> - -<p> -"If only she would be quite natural, and not treat the -doctors with that half-coquettish air!" -</p> - -<p> -"But that is natural to her, and I can't say I altogether -object to it. Perhaps I am partial. Here are the notes in -the meantime." -</p> - -<p> -"Many thanks. Good-bye." -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Au revoir!</i> Come back again—when you want another -chapter out of the <i>Middle Ages</i>." -</p> - -<p> -Mona returned to her books, but she had not read a page -before another visitor was announced. -</p> - -<p> -"I really shall have to sport my oak," she said; but when -she took the card from the salver, her whole face beamed. -</p> - -<p> -"Show him in," she said, wheeling an arm-chair up to the -fire. "Mr Reynolds, there are not three people in the world -whom I should be so glad to see. What lucky wind blows -you here now?" -</p> - -<p> -"I have come partly to look after my two daughters," -said the old man, smiling. "Let me have a good look at -this one. Lucy tells me you are working yourself to death." -</p> - -<p> -"One of Lucy's effective statements." But Mona flushed -rather nervously under his steady gaze. "I suppose you -have just come from her now." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"She is working splendidly if you will." -</p> - -<p> -"So I gather." He smiled. "She is very indignant -to-night about the rudeness of the doctor under whom she is -working at hospital." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't think it is very serious. They are excellent -friends in the main, and you cannot expect all men to be -gentlemen. The fact is"—Mona drew down her brows in -earnest consideration—"we women are excellent, really -excellent, at taking a good hard blow when we are convinced -that we deserve it. That is where our metal comes in. -But if we really mean to share men's work, we have got to -learn within the next generation to take a little miscellaneous -knocking about from our superiors, without enquiring -too closely whether we have deserved it or not. That is -where our ignorance of the world comes in." -</p> - -<p> -"I should think that was extremely true," Mr Reynolds -said reflectively, "especially in a busy life like a doctor's, -where there is so little time for explanations. There must -be a good deal of give and take. But, my dear girl, don't -let your common-sense run away with one atom of your -womanliness. One would not think it necessary to say so, -if one had not been disappointed in that respect, once and -again." -</p> - -<p> -"I know," Mona answered hurriedly. "It is a case of -Scylla and Charybdis. We don't want to be mawkish and -sentimental, and in the first swing of reaction we are apt to -go to the other extreme and treat the patients in hospital as -mere material. But you know, Mr Reynolds, if one realises -that the occupant of each bed is a human soul, with its own -rights and its own reserves—if one takes the trouble to -knock at the door, in fact, and ask admission instead of -leaping over the wall—life becomes pretty intense; a good -deal gets crowded into a very few hours." -</p> - -<p> -"I know. That is quite true. But all things become -easier by practice. It may be the view of a half-informed -outsider, but I cannot help thinking that, if you take the -trouble, when you first begin ward-work, as Lucy calls it, to -gain admission with the will of the patient, you will in time -become the possessor of a magic <i>passe-partout</i>, which will -make entrance not only infinitely more satisfactory and -complete, but also even easier than by leaping over the wall." -</p> - -<p> -"You should preach a sermon to women-doctors," Mona -said, smiling; "and have it printed. I would lay it to -heart for one." -</p> - -<p> -"You will do far more good by preaching it yourself in -your daily life, as indeed I believe you are doing now. But -in any case, I did not come here to preach to you." -</p> - -<p> -"You don't know how much I stand in need of it." -</p> - -<p> -"I want you to talk to me. Do you know it is more than -a year since I saw you?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona sighed. "It seems five to me sometimes." -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose it has been very full of events?" -</p> - -<p> -Mr Reynolds had not forgotten the man whose presence at -Borrowness made "all the difference" in Mona's life there. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes. There was first my life with my cousin; and then -the examination; and then Switzerland with the Munros; -and then hospital. Four different Mona Macleans,—each -living as hard as ever she could." -</p> - -<p> -"And enjoying life?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know. I have been so restless, so unsettled." -</p> - -<p> -"I fancied I could read that in your face, but it is passing -over now." -</p> - -<p> -"I hope so. I don't know. Don't let us talk of it." -</p> - -<p> -"You enjoy your hospital work?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona was sitting opposite him on the corner of the tiled -fender. She looked into the fire now, with an amount of -expression in her face that was almost painful. -</p> - -<p> -"Hospital," she said, "is—<i>salvation</i>! All one's work -apart from that tends to make one self-centred. It is a -duty to think much of <i>my</i> knowledge, <i>my</i> marks, <i>my</i> -success, <i>my</i> failure. Hospital work gives one a chance to -'die to live.'" -</p> - -<p> -She laughed softly. -</p> - -<p> -"It must seem incredible to you, but I actually thought -once that I had died to live,—I, with my books and my -pictures, and my pretty gowns, and my countless toys! I -thought I held them with so light a hand, that I valued -them only for the eternal that was in them." -</p> - -<p> -She paused and went on without much logical sequence. -"It is so easy to die to live, when the life one dies to is -something vague and shadowy and unknown; but let one -brilliant ray of promised happiness cross one's path, and -then it becomes a very different thing to die to that—to -nothing abstract, nothing vague, but just to <i>that</i>! One -realises what one's professions are worth. -</p> - -<p> -"All the time I was at Borrowness I hardly once said a -cross word to my cousin, and I suppose I took great credit -to myself for that; but I see now that there was no true -selflessness in it at all. It was simply because she was so -unlike me that she never came into my real life. I -conquered my hardships in a sense, by escaping them. I -thought I had attained, and I have only learned now that I -have attained nothing. The whole lesson of self-renunciation -has still got to be learned." -</p> - -<p> -"You are thinking much of the duty of self-renunciation; -what of the duty of self-realisation?" -</p> - -<p> -"Is there such a duty?" -</p> - -<p> -"You have acted instinctively up till now on the theory -that there is. Have you any reason to distrust your -instincts?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know. I seem to have got into a muddle about -everything. How can they both be duties when they are so -absolutely incompatible?" -</p> - -<p> -"One can only unite them certainly by seeking for a -higher truth that combines them both. It may seem a -strange thing for a Christian minister to say, but it has -always seemed to me that those words, 'die to live,' were -an admirable expression of a philosophy, but a very poor -maxim for daily life; partly because they ignore that duty -of self-realisation, in which I for one believe, and partly -because, so long as a man says, 'Am I dying to live?' he -cannot possibly do it. The maxim accentuates the very -element we want to get rid of. If we are indeed to die to -live, we must cease to think about it; we must cease to -know whether we live or die." -</p> - -<p> -"But the higher truth, Mr Reynolds, what is that?" -</p> - -<p> -"Nay, I should be doing you a poor service by telling -you." -</p> - -<p> -"There is only one higher truth conceivable," Mona said -boldly, "and that is—God in all." -</p> - -<p> -"And is not that enough? God in me. God to have -His way in me, and to find the fullest possible expression -there. God in all men—in the church, the ball-room, the -Blum. If we see all things through the medium of God, -what becomes of the strife between self-renunciation and -self-realisation?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona pressed his hand in silence. "You knew all that -before, dear child," he said; "you had only got confused for -the moment." -</p> - -<p> -Mona shook her head. "I knew it vaguely," she said, -"but you must not think I am living up to that level. I -thought, in my infinite conceit, that I had risen above -happiness and attained to blessedness; and now—and now—I -want the happiness too." -</p> - -<p> -He laid his hand on her shoulder. "And so you are wearing -yourself out at hospital," he said quietly, as though that -were the natural outcome of what she had said; "but don't -forget the friends who love you, and who are depending on -you." -</p> - -<p> -Mona looked up gratefully into his face. The advice was -almost the same as that which she herself had given to Lucy -some months before; but the value of advice is rarely -intrinsic—we think far less of its substance than we do of the -personality of the giver. The words that are empty platitudes -on the lips of one man, become living inspiration on -those of another. -</p> - -<p> -To-night, however, even Mr Reynolds had not the power -to raise Mona above the longing for happiness. As the -months went on, the strain of uncertainty was becoming -almost unendurable. Never, since that night when he drove -her home in his gig from Colonel Lawrence's Wood, had she -heard anything from Dr Dudley; never, since the chance -glimpses at Burlington House, had she even seen him. It -seemed incredible that he could have failed to find her, if he -had really tried; and yet—and yet—— -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, my friend, my friend!" she said wearily, "I have -waited so long. <i>Where are you?</i>" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap52"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER LII. -<br /><br /> -OLD FRIENDS. -</h3> - -<p> -"You are late," said Lady Munro. "Had you forgotten -that you were going to take us to the theatre?" -</p> - -<p> -She was sitting alone in the firelight, one dainty slippered -foot on the burnished fender. -</p> - -<p> -Sir Douglas looked sharply round the room without -replying. "Is Mona here?" he said. -</p> - -<p> -"No; she could not spare enough time to come to dinner. -We are to call for her." -</p> - -<p> -Sir Douglas frowned. -</p> - -<p> -"That's always the way. Upon my soul, for all we see of -her, she might as well be at—Borrowness!" -</p> - -<p> -"Where in the world is that?" asked Lady Munro -languidly. Then, with a sudden change of tone, "I have -got such a piece of news for you," she said. "Another of -our friends is engaged to be married." -</p> - -<p> -"Not Dickinson?" he said, glancing at the foreign letter -in her hand. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes; the Indian mail came in to-day. Guess who the -lady is?" -</p> - -<p> -"You know I hate guessing. Go on!" -</p> - -<p> -"Miss Colquhoun!" -</p> - -<p> -"What an extraordinary thing!" -</p> - -<p> -"Isn't it? It seems he wanted the thing settled before -he sailed, but it took the exchange of a few letters to -decide the question. I must say it is a great disappointment -to me. I am quite sure the Sahib cared for Mona, and I did -think she would take pity on him in the long-run." -</p> - -<p> -"How ridiculous!" said Sir Douglas testily. -</p> - -<p> -He wanted Mona to marry, because that was the natural -and fitting destiny for a young and attractive woman; but it -was quite another thing to think of her as the wife of any -given man. -</p> - -<p> -"Of course we all know that Mona ought to marry a -duke," said Evelyn quietly. She had entered the room a -moment before, looking very fair and sweet in her white -evening dress. "But even if the duke could be brought to -see it, which is not absolutely certain,—I suppose even -dukes are sometimes blind to their best interests—oh, -father, <i>don't</i>!" -</p> - -<p> -For Sir Douglas was pinching her ear unmercifully. -</p> - -<p> -"You little sauce-box!" he said indignantly, but he did -not look displeased. Evelyn had learned that approaching -womanhood gave her the right to take liberties with her -father which his wife would scarcely have ventured upon. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, whatever may be the cause of it," said Lady -Munro, "Mona is not half so bright as she was a year -ago." -</p> - -<p> -Evelyn laughed. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you remember what Sydney Smith said? 'Macaulay -has improved of late,—flashes of silence!' Lucy told her -yesterday that, to our great surprise, we find we may open -our lips now-a-days, without having our heads snapped off -with an epigram." -</p> - -<p> -"It's all nonsense," said Sir Douglas loftily. "Mona is -not changed a bit. You did not understand her, that is all." -</p> - -<p> -But in truth no one had wondered over the change in Mona -so much as he. He was perfectly certain that she did not -care for the Sahib, and he had come at last to the conclusion -that, with a girl like Mona, incessant hospital work was quite -sufficient to account for the alteration. To his partial mind -Mona's increased womanliness more than made up for her -loss of sparkle. When friendship and affection are removed -alike from all danger of starvation and of satiety, they are -very hard to kill. -</p> - -<p> -At this moment Nubboo announced dinner, and an hour -or so later the carriage stopped at the door of Mona's rooms -in Gower Street. -</p> - -<p> -Much as Sir Douglas spoiled his niece, she "knew her -place," as Lucy expressed it, better than to keep him -waiting; and the reverberations of the knocker had not died -away when she appeared. -</p> - -<p> -Sir Douglas ran his eye with satisfaction over the details -of her toilet. It was an excellent thing for her, in this time -of hard work and heart-hunger, that she felt the bounden -necessity of living up to the level of Sir Douglas's -expectations. She cared intensely for his approbation; partly -for her own sake, partly because to him she represented -the whole race of "learned women"; and she could not -well have had a more friendly, frank, and fastidious -critic. -</p> - -<p> -The theatre was crowded when they entered their box. -Like many habitual theatre-goers Sir Douglas hated boxes, -but he had applied for seats too late to get anything else. -It was the first night of a new melodrama,—new in actual -date, but in all essentials old as the history of man. A noble -magnificent hero; a sweet loyal wife; a long period of -persecution, separation, and mutual devotion; a happy and -triumphant reunion. -</p> - -<p> -Judged by every canon of modern realistic art, it was -stagey and conventional to the point of being ridiculous; -but the acting was brilliant, and even Sir Douglas and Mona -found it difficult to escape the enthusiasm of that crowded -house. Evelyn and her mother were moved almost to tears -before the end. The one saw in the play the ideal that lay -in the shadows before her, the other the ideal that her own -life had missed. -</p> - -<p> -"Have you heard the news about the Sahib?" Lady -Munro enquired in the pause that followed the first act. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," said Mona, flushing slightly; "I had a few lines -from him by to-day's mail." -</p> - -<p> -"Do you think the match a desirable one?" -</p> - -<p> -"Ideal, so far as one can foresee. They won't water down -each other's enthusiasms, as most married people do." -</p> - -<p> -"Douglas remembers Miss Colquhoun as a quaint, -old-fashioned child—not at all pretty. I suppose she has -improved?" -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose she has," Mona answered reflectively: "she -is certainly immensely admired now." -</p> - -<p> -"It was such an odd coincidence; we heard this morning -of the engagement of another of our friends—Colonel -Monteith's son; I forget whether you have met him?" -</p> - -<p> -"No; I have met the Colonel. Who is the son engaged -to?" -</p> - -<p> -"Nobody very great. A Miss Nash, a girl with plenty of -money. George inherits a nice little estate from his uncle, -and he had to marry something to keep it up on. By the -way, Lucy Reynolds must have mentioned him to you. She -saw a good deal of him at Cannes." And Lady Munro -looked somewhat anxiously at her niece. -</p> - -<p> -"I rather think she did," Mona answered, pretending to -stifle a yawn. "But Lucy met so many people while she -was with you——" -</p> - -<p> -The rise of the curtain for the second act obviated the -necessity of finishing the sentence, and Lady Munro did not -resume the subject. -</p> - -<p> -As soon as Sir Douglas had left the box for the second -time, it was entered by a stout man, with a vast expanse of -shirt front, and a bunch of showy seals. -</p> - -<p> -"I thought I could not be mistaken," he said with a -marked Scotch accent, holding out his hand to Mona. "I -have been watching you from the dress circle ever since -the beginning of the play, Miss Maclean; and I thought I -must just come and pay my respects." -</p> - -<p> -Lady Munro looked utterly aghast, and the ease of Mona's -manner rather belied her feelings, as she took his outstretched -hand. -</p> - -<p> -"That was very kind of you," she said simply. "Mr -Cookson, my aunt, Lady Munro,—Miss Munro." -</p> - -<p> -Mr Cookson gasped, and there was an awkward pause. -Rachel Simpson had not taken with her, across the Atlantic, -all the complications in her cousin's life. -</p> - -<p> -Fortunately, at this moment two young men came in, and -Mona was able to keep Mr Cookson pretty much to herself. -</p> - -<p> -"I hope you are all well at Borrowness," she said cordially. -</p> - -<p> -"Thanks, we are wonderful, considering. It'll be great -news for Matilda that I came across you." -</p> - -<p> -"Please give her my love." -</p> - -<p> -There was another pause. Mona was longing to ask about -Mrs Hamilton and Dr Dudley, but she did not dare. -</p> - -<p> -"It was a great thing for Matilda getting to know you," -Mr Cookson went on. "We often wish you were back among -us. If ever you care to renew the homely old associations a -bit, our spare room is always at your disposal, you know." -</p> - -<p> -Care to renew the old associations! What else in life did -she care so much about? In her eagerness she forgot even -the presence of her aunt. -</p> - -<p> -"I should like very much to see the old place again," she -said. "You are very kind." -</p> - -<p> -Mr Cookson's good-natured face beamed with delighted -surprise. -</p> - -<p> -"It isn't looking its best now," he said; "but any time -you care to come, we shall be only too delighted." -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you. If it would not be too much trouble to Mrs -Cookson, I could come for a day or two at the beginning of -January. I shall never forget the fairy frost we had at that -time last winter." -</p> - -<p> -Mr Cookson laughed. -</p> - -<p> -"We will be proud to see you at any time," he said; "but -I am afraid we have not enough interest with the clerk of -the weather to get up a frost like that again. I never -remember to have seen the like of it." -</p> - -<p> -He turned to Lady Munro with a vague idea that he ought -to be making himself agreeable to her. -</p> - -<p> -"My girls were wishing they could carry the leaves and -things home," he said; "it seemed such a waste like." -</p> - -<p> -Mona inwardly blessed her aunt for the gracious smile -with which she listened to these words; but, whatever Lady -Munro's feelings might be, it was extremely difficult for her -to be ungracious to any one. -</p> - -<p> -The Fates, after all, were kind. Mr Cookson left the box -before Sir Douglas returned. -</p> - -<p> -"My <i>dear</i> Mona!" was all Lady Munro could say the first -moment they were left alone. -</p> - -<p> -"Poor dear Aunt Maud!" Mona said caressingly; "it is -a shame that she should be subjected to such a thing. But -never mind, dear; he lives hundreds of miles away from here, -and you are never likely to see him again." -</p> - -<p> -Lady Munro groaned. Fortunately, she had heard nothing -of the invitation, and in another minute she was once more -absorbed in the interest of the play. -</p> - -<p> -The party drove back to Gower Street in silence. Sir -Douglas alighted at once, and held out his hand to help -Mona. -</p> - -<p> -"Many thanks," she said warmly; "good night." -</p> - -<p> -"No; I am coming in for ten minutes. I want to speak -to you. Home, Charles!" -</p> - -<p> -Mona opened the door, and led the way up the dimly -lighted staircase to her cheerful sitting-room. -</p> - -<p> -"Now, Mona," he said, as soon as the door was closed, "I -want the whole truth of this Borrowness business." -</p> - -<p> -Mona started visibly. Had he met Mr Cookson in the -corridor, seized him by the throat, and demanded an account -of his actions? No, that was clearly impossible. -</p> - -<p> -"Who has been talking to you?" she said resignedly. -</p> - -<p> -"I met Colonel Lawrence at the club to-day." -</p> - -<p> -Mona threw herself into the rocking-chair with a sigh of -capitulation. -</p> - -<p> -"If you have heard <i>his</i> story," she said, "you need not -come to me for farther details. He knows more than I do -myself. They say down at Borrowness that he is 'as guid -as an auld almanac.'" -</p> - -<p> -But Sir Douglas declined to be amused. -</p> - -<p> -"How long were you there?" he said severely. -</p> - -<p> -"Six months." -</p> - -<p> -"And you have kept me in the dark about it all this -time? I think I deserved greater confidence from you." -</p> - -<p> -"I think you did," she said frankly; "but you see, Uncle -Douglas, I promised to go at a time when I only knew you -by name, and I had not the least idea then that you would -be so kind to me. I felt bound to keep my word, and I did -not feel quite sure that you would approve of it." -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Approve of it!</i>" he exclaimed indignantly. -</p> - -<p> -"But I always meant to tell you about it sooner or later." -</p> - -<p> -Mona sighed. She had expected the whole story to come -out in connection with her engagement to Dr Dudley. And -now that engagement seemed to be becoming more and more -problematical. -</p> - -<p> -"Particularly later," said Sir Douglas sarcastically. "It -is nearly a year now since you left." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes; but that isn't exactly due to intentional secrecy on -my part. The fact is, my visit has some painful associations -for me now." -</p> - -<p> -"So I should think," he said. "Is it really true, Mona, -that you stood behind a counter?—that you <i>kept a shop</i>?" -</p> - -<p> -"Perfectly true," said Mona, meeting his gaze without -flinching. "I confess I had no special training for the -work, but I did not do it so badly, after all." -</p> - -<p> -The least suspicion of a smile played about the corners of -his mouth, but he suppressed it instantly. -</p> - -<p> -"And when," he asked, "may we expect your next attack -of shopkeeping?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, did Colonel Lawrence not tell you? My cousin -sailed for America months ago." -</p> - -<p> -He looked relieved. -</p> - -<p> -"To your infinite regret, no doubt." -</p> - -<p> -"I am afraid it is a great weight off my mind." -</p> - -<p> -"And is that the end of the affair, or have you any more -cousins down there?" -</p> - -<p> -"I have one or two friends; no relatives." -</p> - -<p> -"Then there is nothing to take you back again?" -</p> - -<p> -Poor Mona! -</p> - -<p> -"I met a Borrowness acquaintance in the theatre to-night," -she said, "and promised to go down for a day or two -at Christmas. Uncle Douglas, you did not ask to see my -genealogical tree before you took me to Norway. I am -proud of the fact that my grandfather rose from the ranks; -and, even if I were not, I could not consent to draw all my -acquaintances from one set. There are four links in the -chain—your world, you, me, my world. Your world won't -let you go, and I can't let my world go. If you must break -the chain, you can only do it in one place." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't believe you would care a straw if I did." -</p> - -<p> -"I should care intensely," said Mona, her eyes filling with -tears. "It seems like a fairy tale that a brilliant man of -the world like you should be so good to commonplace me; -and, besides—you know I love you almost as if you were my -father. But, indeed, now that I know you and Aunt Maud, -you may trust me in future always to think of what is due -to you." -</p> - -<p> -She had risen from her chair as she spoke, and he strode -across the hearth-rug and kissed her affectionately. -</p> - -<p> -"There, there," he said, "she shall dictate her own terms! -Thank heaven at least that that old frump is well across the -Atlantic!" -</p> - -<p> -He went away, and Mona was left alone, to think over the -events of the day. Doris and the Sahib, Monteith and Lucy,—it -was the old tale over again,—"The one shall be taken, -and the other left." How strange it seemed that life should -run smoothly for Doris, with all her grand power of -self-surrender; and that poor little Lucy, with her innocent, -childlike expectation of happiness, should be called upon to -suffer! -</p> - -<p> -"——so horribly," Mona added; but in her heart she was -beginning to hope that Lucy had not been so hard hit after -all. -</p> - -<p> -And for herself, how did the equation run? As the Sahib -is to Doris, so is somebody to me? or, as Monteith is to -Lucy, so is somebody to me? No, no, no! That was -impossible. Monteith had never treated Lucy as Dr Dudley -had treated her. -</p> - -<p> -During all these months what had caused Mona the acutest -suffering was an anguish of shame. It never remained -with her long, but it recurred whenever she was worn out -and depressed. She had long since realised that, from an -outsider's point of view, her experience that winter night -was in no way so exceptional as she had supposed,—that -there were thousands of men who would give such expression -to a moment's transient passion. But surely, surely -Dr Dudley was not one of these, and surely any man must -see that with a woman like her it must be everything or -nothing! If he had indeed torn her soul out and given her -nothing in return, why then—then—— But she never -could finish the sentence, for the recollection of a hundred -words and actions and looks came back, and turned the gall -into sweetness. And she always ended with the same old -cry—"If only I had told him about my life, if only I had -given him no shadow of a reason to think that I had deceived -him!" -</p> - -<p> -But to-night it seemed as if the long uncertainty must be -coming to an end at last. If she went to Borrowness at -Christmas, as she had promised, she could not fail to hear -something of her friend, and she might even see him. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap53"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER LIII. -<br /><br /> -WAITING. -</h3> - -<p> -The weeks passed very slowly till the Christmas holidays -came round; but, on the whole, life had become more -bearable for Mona. The future was as uncertain as ever, -but she had at least one definite event to look forward to. -There was a light of some kind before her, though it might -be only a Will-o'-the-wisp. -</p> - -<p> -And a Will-o'-the-wisp it was destined to prove. -</p> - -<p> -She arrived at Borrowness late in the evening, and -immediately after breakfast next morning, Matilda begged her -to come to Castle Maclean. Mona assented the more -readily, as the walk led them past the gates of Carlton -Lodge; but at the first glance she saw that the house was -shut up. -</p> - -<p> -It was some minutes before she could measure the full -force of the blow. -</p> - -<p> -"What has become of Mrs Hamilton?" she said at last, -with averted face. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, didn't you know? She was awfully ill last autumn. -Dr Dudley had some great gun down from London to see -her,—as if Edinburgh doctors were not a great deal -better!—and she was ordered abroad for the winter. Dr Dudley -took her away at once, to Cairo, or Algiers, or some such -place. We don't hear anything about them now. By the -way, Miss Maclean, the very last time that I saw Dr Dudley -he was asking about you." -</p> - -<p> -Mona could not trust herself to speak. -</p> - -<p> -"He wanted to know if you had gone to America with -Miss Simpson, and Pa gave him a glowing account of how -he had seen you in London." -</p> - -<p> -"At the theatre?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, no. Pa saw you once, long before that, one day -in Hyde Park, with a lady—and a young gentleman. I -thought it would be Lady Munro, but I never said so -to Pa." -</p> - -<p> -It was contrary to all Mona's instincts to ask what any -one had said of her, but the opportunity was too precious to -be lost. Her dignity must go. -</p> - -<p> -"And what did Dr Dudley say to that?" she asked, as -carelessly as she could. -</p> - -<p> -Matilda hesitated; but she felt a pardonable longing to -repeat her own brave words. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know whether I ought to tell you," she said. -"You see—Dr Dudley doesn't know you as well as I do. -He said in that horrid sneering way of his, 'And do you -know what induced her to come masquerading down here?' I -gave him a piece of my mind, I can tell you." And -Matilda repeated the retort which she had so often gone -over with keen satisfaction in her own mind. -</p> - -<p> -"You loyal little soul!" said Mona; but her face had -turned very white. -</p> - -<p> -"Dr Dudley asked such an extraordinary thing," Matilda -went on. "He wanted to know whether you were—a -<i>medical student</i>!" -</p> - -<p> -Ah! so he had noticed her name in the lists. Then why -had he not written to her at the School? -</p> - -<p> -"Fancy his imagining such a thing! Pa told him you -had no need to do anything for yourself." -</p> - -<p> -Mona was too preoccupied to think of it at the time; but, -before she left Borrowness, she broke to the Cooksons the -astounding fact that, although she had no need to do -anything for herself, she was a medical student. -</p> - -<p> -When she came to think calmly over the incident which -Matilda had narrated to her, she did not know whether -to draw from it comfort or despair. She was not sorry that -Dudley should have been angry,—angry enough to forget -himself before little Matilda Cookson; but had he been -content to condemn her unheard? Surely he could in some -way have got a letter to her. Algiers and Cairo were -far off, but they were not on the astral plane. -</p> - -<p> -No, certainly Mona did not despair of her friend. It -might have been better for her physically if she had. -If she had been sure that he had forgotten her, she would -have turned the key with a will on the suite of enchanted -rooms; but the suspense, the excitement of uncertainty, was -wearing out her strength. -</p> - -<p> -When spring came round she was thoroughly ill. She -went about her work as usual, but even her lecturers and -fellow-students saw that something was wrong; and Sir -Douglas implored her to give up medicine altogether. -</p> - -<p> -"I ought to have trusted my own instincts," he said. -"The very first day I saw your face, I felt sure that you -were not the sort to make a doctor. That kind of work -wants women of coarser fibre. There us no use trying to -chop wood with a razor." -</p> - -<p> -In vain Mona protested that medical work had nothing to -do with it; that she could not live without her hospital. -She was not prepared to suggest any other explanation, and -Sir Douglas stuck to his point. -</p> - -<p> -"Don't fret, dear," she said at last. "If you like, I -will go and see Dr Alice Bateson to-morrow." -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Do!</i>" he said emphatically. "I have a great mind -to go and see her myself." -</p> - -<p> -So next evening Mona found herself in a pleasant, airy -consulting-room. Dr Bateson rose as her patient entered, -and looked at her steadily, with the penetrating brown eyes. -</p> - -<p> -"I am not ill," Mona said apologetically. "But I can't -sleep much, and things get on my nerves; so I thought -I would allow myself the luxury of consulting you." -</p> - -<p> -"You do look seedy," was the frank reply, and the brown -eyes kept firm hold of the white, sensitive face. -"Over-working?" -</p> - -<p> -"No." -</p> - -<p> -"When is your next examination?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not for eighteen months." -</p> - -<p> -"So it isn't that?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, it isn't that." -</p> - -<p> -Dr Bateson put her fingers on the girl's pulse. Her -manner could not be called strictly sympathetic—certainly -not effusive—but there was something very irresistible in -her profound and unassumed interest in her patients. -</p> - -<p> -"Is something particular worrying you?" she said shortly. -</p> - -<p> -Mona smiled drearily. -</p> - -<p> -"There you have me," she said. "Something is worrying -me. It lies entirely out of my power, so I cannot control -it; and it is still uncertain, so I cannot make up my mind -to it." -</p> - -<p> -"And you can't shake it off, and wait?" -</p> - -<p> -"I am afraid it is because I have failed in that, that -I have come to you. I suppose I am demanding the -impossible—asking you to 'minister to a mind diseased.'" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't mind ministering to a mind diseased at all—if it -is not too diseased to carry out my instructions. In this age -of worry and strain one laughs at the stories of the old -doctors, who declined to undertake a case if the patient -had anything on his mind. They would not have a very -flourishing practice now-a-days. Thousands of worries and -not a few suicides might be prevented by the timely use of -a simple tonic. Prosaic, isn't it?" -</p> - -<p> -"Prove it true in my case, and I shall be grateful to -you all my life. I don't play the part of invalid <i>con -amore</i>." -</p> - -<p> -"That I believe. What are you going to do with your -Easter holiday?" -</p> - -<p> -"I am not going to leave town,—at least not for more -than a few days." -</p> - -<p> -"Why not?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona's appearance did not suggest the lack of means, to -which Dr Alice Bateson was pretty well accustomed in her -practice. -</p> - -<p> -"I want to get on with my hospital work; and besides, -it is work that keeps one sane." -</p> - -<p> -"That is quite true up to a certain point. I suppose you -have friends that you can go to?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes. My aunt wants me to go to Bournemouth with -her," Mona admitted unwillingly. -</p> - -<p> -"And is she a congenial companion?" -</p> - -<p> -"Thoroughly; but I should mope myself to death." -</p> - -<p> -"Not if you follow my advice. Live on the cliffs the -whole day long, read what will rest you, and take a tonic -that will make you eat in spite of yourself." -</p> - -<p> -She asked a few more questions, and then consulted Mona -very frankly about the ingredients of her prescription. Dr -Bateson did not at all believe in making a mystery of her -art, nor in drawing a hard-and-fast line between students -and doctors. -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you very much indeed," Mona said, rising and -tendering her fee. -</p> - -<p> -"Nonsense! we are none of us cannibals, as your great -Scotch Æsculapius says. I don't take fees from students -and nurses." -</p> - -<p> -"But I am not studying in order to support myself." -</p> - -<p> -"I can't help that. Now I wonder if you mean to take -my advice as well as my tonic?" She asked the question -quite dispassionately, as if it only interested her in an -abstract way. -</p> - -<p> -"If you don't accept a fee," Mona said, in an injured -tone, "you bind me over to take your advice." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah! if that's the case, I wish I could afford to refuse -fees from all my patients. Good-bye. Send me a line from -Bournemouth to tell me how you get on. I wish I could -be of more use to you!" And for the first time a look of -very genuine sympathy shot from the honest brown eyes. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -"Well?" said Sir Douglas, when he saw Mona next day. -</p> - -<p> -"Dr Bateson says I am to go to Bournemouth with Aunt -Maud." -</p> - -<p> -"Nonsense! Did she really?" -</p> - -<p> -Warmly as Sir Douglas approved of women-doctors, it -was a source of great surprise to him that they should -recommend anything sensible. -</p> - -<p> -And so it came to pass that Mona began by degrees to -pick up fresh health and strength in spite of everything. -She could not shake off her worry; but day by day, to her -own surprise, it weighed on her more bearably. -</p> - -<p> -One morning near the end of April she took up a copy of -the <i>Times</i>, and her eye fell on the following notice—"On -the 23d inst., at Carlton Lodge, Borrowness, Eleanor Jane, -relict of the late George Hamilton, Esq., J.P. and D.L. of -the County, in her 79th year." -</p> - -<p> -"So she came home to die," Mona thought; "and -now—now I suppose he will come up to London and go on with -his work. I wonder if he will present himself at Burlington -House for his medal next month? For, if he does, I shall -see him." -</p> - -<p> -And it was well that Presentation Day was so near, or -Dr Bateson might have been disappointed, after all, in the -results of her prescription. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap54"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER LIV. -<br /><br /> -PRESENTATION DAY. -</h3> - -<p> -The eventful day dawned at last, clear and bright, with a -summer sky and a fresh spring breeze. -</p> - -<p> -"One would think I was a bride at the very least," Mona -said, laughing, when Lucy and Evelyn came in to help her -to dress. -</p> - -<p> -"If you think we would take this amount of trouble for -a common or garden bride," said Lucy loftily, "you are -profoundly mistaken. Bride, indeed!" -</p> - -<p> -Sir Douglas had insisted on giving Mona an undergraduate's -gown, heavy and handsome as it could be made; -and the sight of her in that, and in a most becoming -trencher, did more to reconcile him to her study of -medicine than any amount of argument could have done. -</p> - -<p> -"Distinctly striking!" was Mona's comment, when Lucy -and Evelyn stopped dancing round her, and allowed her to -see herself in the pier-glass. And she was perfectly right. -Never in all her bright young life had she looked so -charming as she did that Presentation Day. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -"You will go to the function to day, Ralph?" said -Melville to his friend the same morning. -</p> - -<p> -"Not I! God bless my soul! when a man has graduated -at Edinburgh and Cambridge, he can afford to dispense with -a twopenny-halfpenny function at Burlington House." -</p> - -<p> -"I thought you admitted that, even in comparison with -Cambridge and Edinburgh, London had its points?" -</p> - -<p> -"So I do. But the graduation ceremony is not one of -them. Ceremonial does not sprout kindly on nineteenth-century -soil. One misses the tradition, the aroma of faith, -the grand roll of the <i>In nomine Patrix</i>. Call it superstition, -humbug, what you will, but materialism is confoundedly -inartistic." -</p> - -<p> -"Spoken like a book with pictures. But without entering -fully into the question of Atheism versus Christianity, the -point at issue is briefly this: I have got a ticket for the -affair, for the first time in my life, and I want to applaud -somebody I know. Sweet girl-graduates are all very well, -but I decline to waste all my adolescent enthusiasm on a -physiologist in petticoats." -</p> - -<p> -"By the way, a woman did get the Physiology Medal, -did not she?" And Dudley felt a faint, awakening curiosity -to see that other Miss Maclean. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, if it is going to make you sigh like that," said -Melville, "I withdraw all I have said. I have no wish to -sacrifice you on the altar of friendship." -</p> - -<p> -"Did I sigh?" said Ralph very wearily. "It was not -for that. Oh yes, dear boy, I'll go. It won't be the first -time I have made a fool of myself for your sake." -</p> - -<p> -And he did feel himself very much of a fool when, a few -hours later, he went up on the platform of the crowded -theatre to receive the pretty golden toy. The experience -reminded him of his brilliant schoolboy days, and he half -expected some kindly old gentleman to clap Him on the -shoulder as he went back to his seat. He was thankful to -escape into insignificance again; and then, adjusting his -gold-rimmed spectacles, he proceeded to watch for Miss -Mona Maclean. -</p> - -<p> -It was well that he had ceased to be the centre of -attraction in the theatre. Ralph was not a blushing man, but a -moment later his face became as red as the cushioned seats -of the hall, and when the wave of colour passed away, it -left him ashy pale. At the first sight of that dear familiar -face, beautiful to-day with excitement, as he had seen it at -Castle Maclean, his hard, aggrieved feeling against her -vanished, and he thought only how good it would be to speak -to her again. He was proud of her beauty, proud of the -ovation she received, proud of his love for her. -</p> - -<p> -But while the tedious ceremony went on, the facts of the -case came back to him one by one, like common objects -that have been blotted for the moment out of view by some -dazzling light. His face settled into a heavy frown. -</p> - -<p> -"I will walk along Regent Street with her," he thought, -"and ask her what it all meant." -</p> - -<p> -At last the "function" was over. Mona seemed to be -surrounded by congratulating friends, and so indeed was he; -but before many minutes had passed he found himself following -her out of the hall,—gaining on her. She was very -pale. Was it reaction after the excitement of the -ceremony? or did she know that he was behind her? -</p> - -<p> -In another moment he would have spoken, but during -that moment a bluff, elderly professor, who had been looking -at Mona with much interest and perplexity, suddenly seized -her hand. -</p> - -<p> -"Why, I declare it is Yum-Yum!" he exclaimed enthusiastically. -"No wonder she took us by surprise on a deserted -coast, when she wins an ovation like this at Burlington -House!" -</p> - -<p> -Mona stopped to speak, and Dudley passed on. -</p> - -<p> -No wonder, indeed! What a blind bat, what an utter -imbecile, he had been! and how he had babbled to her of -his past, present, and future, while she had sat looking at -him, with infinite simplicity and frankness in her honest -eyes! -</p> - -<p> -His lip curled with a cynical smile. -</p> - -<p> -"Bravo, old chap!" said Melville's friendly voice. "It -was a genuine consolation to my misanthropic mind to reflect -that one of those medals was well earned." -</p> - -<p> -Ralph stopped for a minute or two to speak to his friend, -and then went down the steps. Most of the carriages had -gone, but, a few yards from the door, a pair of fine bays -were pawing the ground. Ralph looked up and recognised -his Anglo-Indian friend, Sir Douglas Munro; but Sir -Douglas was waiting for a lady, and had no eyes for the -clever young doctor. Ralph's glance wandered on to the -next carriage, and when it came idly back to the bays, he -saw that the lady had arrived. Nay, more, the lady was -looking at him with a very eloquent face. -</p> - -<p> -"Dr Dudley," she said, almost below her breath. -</p> - -<p> -For an instant Dudley hesitated,—then gravely lifted his -hat and walked on. He could not speak to her now; he -must have time to think. It seemed to him that his very -soul was torn in two. One half loved Mona, clamoured for -her, stretched out blind hands that longed to take her on -any terms, unquestioning; but the other half refused to -be carried away by glamour and mere blind impulse, the -other half was outraged by this trivial motiveless deception, -the other half had dreamed of an ideal marriage and would -not be put off with anything short of its ideal. How little he -knew of her, after all! He had not met her a dozen -times—what wonder if he had been mistaken! -</p> - -<p> -While he wrestled thus with himself, the mail-phaeton -bowled rapidly past him. Dudley laughed gloomily. And -he had meant her to trudge along Regent Street with him, -and "tell him what it all meant"! What a hopeless -imbecile he had been! -</p> - -<p> -How could he guess that Mona would cheerfully have -given three years' income to leave her uncle at that moment, -and "trudge along Regent Street" with him? -</p> - -<p> -"Who is that young fellow?" Sir Douglas was saying. -"I seem to know his face." -</p> - -<p> -"He is a Dr Dudley," Mona answered, stooping low to -arrange the carriage-rug over her feet. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, to be sure. I remember—a clever fellow." Sir -Douglas fell a-musing for a few minutes. "How did you -pick him up, Mona? He told me when I last saw him that -he did not know any of the women-students." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap55"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER LV. -<br /><br /> -LUCY TO THE RESCUE. -</h3> - -<p> -"I have an idea, Mona," said Lucy. -</p> - -<p> -"Have you, dear? I wish I had!" -</p> - -<p> -The two girls were in the Gower Street garden again, and -Lucy was swinging lazily in the hammock, just as she had -done that summer day nearly two years before. -</p> - -<p> -"You know I told you the Pater had had a little money -left him?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, and very glad I was to hear it." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, the more I see of what is being done in a medical -way in the hub of the profession here, the more I am inclined -to think it might be worth while for the Mater to come in -to town." -</p> - -<p> -Mona did not answer for a minute or two. She was -trying to intensify her recollections of Mrs Reynolds's -somewhat mysterious illness. -</p> - -<p> -"I think it is extremely likely," she said at last. -</p> - -<p> -"I would take her to Dr Bateson, get her to go into the -case thoroughly, and then choose any specialist she -liked—man or woman—to consult with. Don't you think that -would be wise?" -</p> - -<p> -"Very." -</p> - -<p> -"It is perfectly awful to think how helpless people are -who are quite outside the profession. I think it is worth -while studying medicine, if only to be able to tell your friends -whom, to consult,—or rather, whom not to consult." -</p> - -<p> -"I know. When I am low-spirited I brood over all the -people whose deaths I might have prevented, if I had known -what I know now. If I were a reformer, like Miss Lascelles, -there is one change I would try to work in the profession. -Every family able to pay for a doctor at all should give a -yearly amount to some sharp-eyed, keen-witted, common-sense -man or woman, who would keep an eye on the children, -and detect the first trace of struma, or lateral curvature, or -any of the neuroses. He need not be a great don at all. He -must understand the dynamics of a vital organism in relation -to its surroundings——" -</p> - -<p> -"The <i>what</i>?" said Lucy. -</p> - -<p> -"——know the value of iron and cod-liver oil; and, above -all, see when the moment has arrived to send for a specialist. -It seems to me that half the mistakes that are made would -be prevented, if that plan were carried out." -</p> - -<p> -"Or you might adopt the Chinese system,—salary the -doctor, and stop his pay when you get ill." -</p> - -<p> -Mona laughed. "The fact is, the public have not begun -to realise yet how medicine is specialised, and most doctors -are afraid to tell them." -</p> - -<p> -There was a few minutes' silence. -</p> - -<p> -"Edgar Davidson took me over St Kunigonde's yesterday," -said Lucy presently. -</p> - -<p> -"Who is Edgar Davidson?" -</p> - -<p> -"I wish somebody would prescribe for your memory, Mona. -Believe me, the moment has come, when your jog-trot, -common-sense adviser"—she bowed—"suggests a specialist. -Don't you remember the boy we met at Monte Carlo?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh yes, to be sure." -</p> - -<p> -"He is developing a very wholesome admiration for me." -</p> - -<p> -"I thought boy-worshippers were the special appanage of -middle-aged women, like myself!" -</p> - -<p> -"He is not such a boy, after all," said Lucy, colouring -slightly. "And all his worship is reserved for a wonderful -fellow-student of his, whom he introduced to me -yesterday—Dr Dudley." -</p> - -<p> -Mona rearranged her cushions. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you still believe in nice men, Mona?" -</p> - -<p> -"I always did." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, that's a pity. You will never know the joys of -conversion." -</p> - -<p> -"Who has been converting the pessimist in the hammock?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I am a hopeless sceptic. But I like Dr Dudley all -the same. He seems to have an awfully good influence on -the students. He is a good deal older than they are, and he -lives his life according to his own tastes, without posing as a -saint or being mistaken for a muff. What I liked was his -manner with those horrid dirty 'casuals.' And then he is -just enough of a cynic to give an edge to it all." -</p> - -<p> -"I am afraid I am too old to appreciate cynics." -</p> - -<p> -"Poor soul!" said Lucy, in a tone of profound commiseration. -"Life is indeed a thing of the past for you. Cynics -are the spice of the world. However, it seems to me the -Mater should come up at once. It would not do for her to -be here during the hottest of the summer. I will write to -her this very day." -</p> - -<p> -She proceeded to alight from the hammock as she spoke. -</p> - -<p> -"By the way, Mona," she said suddenly, "you must have -seen Dr Dudley. He was Anatomy medallist." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," said Mona, and she said no more. She hoped the -broad brim of her garden-hat would conceal the whiteness of -her face. -</p> - -<p> -This was almost the first time that any outsider had -spoken to her of Dr Dudley, and she was amazed to find -how strong was her sense of possession in him. It was very -characteristic of her that, after the first moment of indignation, -she scarcely blamed Dudley at all for his frigid greeting -in Burlington Gardens. She realised vividly how things -must look from his point of view—so vividly that, with that -quick power of seeing both sides of a question which was -her compensation for "not being a reformer," she saw also -her own danger, and cried out in her heart, "Whatever -happens, let me not lose my pride!" -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -"I want you to come and have tea with me at the Hall on -Saturday," Lucy said, when the friends met at hospital a few -days later. "Knowing your love for what you are pleased -to call 'sensuous beauty,' I have asked Edgar Davidson's -sister to meet you. She has just come home from San -Remo, and she really is the prettiest girl I ever saw in my -life." -</p> - -<p> -"I would go a long way to see a really beautiful woman," -said Mona laughing; "but I have a young friend whose -swans show an awkward tendency to turn out ugly ducklings." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, well! wait till you see Miss Davidson." -</p> - -<p> -And when Saturday afternoon came, Mona confessed that -Lucy was right. There could be no doubt that Angela -Davidson was a beauty. A winter in the South had banished -every apparent trace of delicacy, while leaving behind a bloom -that was really flower-like. -</p> - -<p> -"Miss Reynolds tells me that Lady Munro is your aunt," -she said to Mona. "Do you think she would mind my -calling to thank her for her wonderful kindness to Edgar at -Monte Carlo?" -</p> - -<p> -"I am sure she would be delighted to see you," Mona -answered warmly; "but I expect she has entirely forgotten -the incident." -</p> - -<p> -"I shall not forget it as long as I live. Edgar never knew -what it was to have a mother; and it seems as if people -understood by a kind of instinct how terribly unwilling I -was to leave him without a sister." -</p> - -<p> -"<i>A propos</i> of that," said Lucy, "Miss Maclean is a -co-medallist with Dr Dudley." -</p> - -<p> -Miss Davidson raised wondering eyes. "You must be -awfully clever," she said simply. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh no; I failed twice before I carried home the medal. -Do you know Dr Dudley?" -</p> - -<p> -She scarcely even blushed as she asked the question. She -was delighted at her own assurance and self-possession. -</p> - -<p> -The girl's beautiful face lighted up. "I should think I -did," she said. "He has been the turning-point in my -brother's life. There is no one in the world to whom I owe -so much as to Ralph Dudley." -</p> - -<p> -A curious pain shot through Mona's heart. She had never -experienced anything like it before, and it was gone before -she could ask herself what it meant. -</p> - -<p> -A few minutes later she rose to go. -</p> - -<p> -"I am afraid it is taking a great liberty, with any one so -busy and so clever," Miss Davidson said, in her pretty -childlike fashion, "but I should be so proud if you would -come and see me next Thursday. Miss Reynolds has promised -to come, and I am expecting some of my very best -friends." -</p> - -<p> -"I will come with pleasure," said Mona quickly; and this -time a more perceptible colour rose into her white forehead. -She wanted to see this beautiful girl again, and—it would -be interesting to know whether "Ralph Dudley" was one -of her "very best friends." -</p> - -<p> -That night as she sat by the open window in the twilight, -looking out on the lime-trees in the garden, the same -unaccountable pain came over her, and she proceeded to analyse -it mercilessly. For a long time she remained there with a -deep furrow on her brow. -</p> - -<p> -"I thought I had attained," she said at last. "Were -they all for nothing, those years of striving after the highest, -with strong crying and tears? I thought I had attained, -and here I am, at the end of it, only a commonplace, jealous -woman after all!" -</p> - -<p> -"Well," said Lucy the next day, "did I exaggerate? or -is she as sweet and as pretty as they make 'em -now-a-days?" -</p> - -<p> -"I think she is," Mona said reflectively. "But don't -introduce her to other people as a 'sensuous beauty.' The -word is misleading in that connection." -</p> - -<p> -"So I suppose. I used it in strict accordance with your -own definition." -</p> - -<p> -"No doubt; but you will find that, on hearing it, the -popular imagination flies at once to a Rubens' model." -</p> - -<p> -"I am so glad you promised to go and see her on Thursday. -I was afraid you would not. When you were gone, I -made her promise to ask Dr Dudley to meet us." -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Lucy!</i>" -</p> - -<p> -"Why not? I like him, and it must be most refreshing -to him, after all the learned women he meets, to have this -ignorant, beautiful creature look at him with great -worshipping eyes." -</p> - -<p> -"And you don't mind her telling him that we wished to -meet him?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, she won't do that. I told her not to breathe the -words 'medical student.' It would be enough to keep him -away. A man does not go out to afternoon tea with the -prospect of being waylaid on the threshold of the drawing-room -by an advanced woman who invites him to 'forget sex.'" -</p> - -<p> -But Mona was not listening. -</p> - -<p> -"It is so schoolgirl, so undignified! I would not stoop -to ask a mere acquaintance not to repeat something I had -said." -</p> - -<p> -But now it was Lucy's turn to fire up. -</p> - -<p> -"And suppose she does repeat it?" she said. "Is it a -crime to say one wants to meet a good and clever man, who -is years and years older than one's self? If it is a crime, I -can only say your influence over me for the last three years -has been less elevating than I supposed. You have a perfect -right to be inconsistent, Mona; but if you expect me to be -inconsistent at the same moment, and on precisely the same -lines, you might give me a little warning!" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap56"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER LVI. -<br /><br /> -A LOST CHANCE. -</h3> - -<p> -"Dr Dudley, let me introduce you to Miss Maclean." -</p> - -<p> -Almost any hostess would have effected that introduction -under the circumstances. Ralph and Mona were the two -people in the crowded little drawing-room who made their -presence felt; who, unconsciously to themselves, suggested -grave reponsibilities on the part of their hostess; therefore -by all means let them entertain each other. -</p> - -<p> -Mona bowed, as she would have done to a stranger, and -Dudley seated himself by her side. Without a moment's -hesitation he began to discuss a book that lay on the table, -and never had Mona admired his gift of utterance more. It -was not that he said anything peculiarly brilliant, but he -talked so easily and fluently that even she could not tell -whether his self-possession was real or assumed. She would -have been in less doubt on the subject, perhaps, if she had -trusted herself to meet his eye when he entered the drawing-room. -As it was, she was determined not to be outdone, so -for nearly half an hour the stream of conversation ran -lightly on. -</p> - -<p> -At length several people rose to go, and, in the slight stir -this involved, Ralph and Mona were left alone and unnoticed -for a moment, in the oriel window. -</p> - -<p> -In an instant the conversation ceased and their eyes met. -</p> - -<p> -"Dr Dudley," Mona said impulsively, in a very low voice, -"what have I done?" -</p> - -<p> -The same honest eyes as of old—the eyes that had smiled -and deceived him. -</p> - -<p> -"Done?" he said coldly, with an accent of surprise. -"Nothing whatsoever. I was under a stupid misapprehension -as to the terms on which we stood; but I have long -since seen my mistake. That is all." -</p> - -<p> -He was annoyed with her for opening the subject there -and then,—forgetting that women cannot always choose their -opportunities,—but even as he spoke, his lips quivered; a -terrible struggle was concealed beneath the calmness of his -manner. One word more from her might have dragged aside -the flimsy veil; but she, too, had her pride. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, I am afraid I must go," she said, as Miss Davidson -returned to her remaining guests. "Don't let me hurry -you, Lucy; I must get that book you mentioned out of the -library, Dr Dudley." -</p> - -<p> -She bowed to him with a frank cordiality that was far -more cutting than his coldness, shook hands with her hostess, -and went away. Lucy, of course, accompanied her, and -Dudley was left to reap what he had sown. -</p> - -<p> -But Mona could not bear even Lucy's society to-day, and -she made an excuse for parting from her before they had -gone many hundred yards. Then her lithe figure -straightened itself defiantly. -</p> - -<p> -"Two chances I have given him," she said to herself; -"and now, come what come may, he shall make the third -himself!" -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -When Mona came in from hospital a few days later, she -was met by the announcement that a gentleman had called -to see her, and had said he would return in the evening. -</p> - -<p> -"Did he leave no name?" she asked in some surprise. -</p> - -<p> -"No, ma'am, he said it was of no consequence." -</p> - -<p> -Mona bethought herself of Mr Reynolds. -</p> - -<p> -"Was he an old gentleman?" she said. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh no, ma'am; a youngish gentleman, tall and thin." -</p> - -<p> -Mona's heart leaped. "Show him up to my sitting-room -when he comes," she said quietly. -</p> - -<p> -She went to her lecture as usual that afternoon, but -found it difficult to give her full attention to the varieties, -causes, and treatment of aneurism. The moment the class -was over she hurried home, dressed with more than usual -care, rearranged her flowers, dined without knowing what -was on the table, and then seated herself in her -rocking-chair with a book. -</p> - -<p> -But she did not read. She proceeded to make a leisurely, -critical survey of the room. It looked very pretty just then -in the soft evening light, and at worst it was a picturesque, -suggestive place. -</p> - -<p> -She rose to her feet and redraped a curtain; then she -glanced with satisfaction at the soft folds of her gown, and -seated herself again with a sigh. How sensible of him it -was to come to her quietly, here in her own territory, where -they could talk over everything thoroughly, and explain all -misunderstandings! -</p> - -<p> -A loud rat-tat-tat resounded through the house. Alas! she -knew that imperious knock only too well! A minute -later Sir Douglas and her aunt entered the room. -</p> - -<p> -"You do look well," he said, holding her at arm's-length -before he kissed her. "I never saw you with such a colour." -</p> - -<p> -"And your rooms are so charming," said Lady Munro. "I -like them a great deal better than ours in Gloucester Place." -</p> - -<p> -Mona laughed. She was well used by this time to her -aunt's figures of speech. -</p> - -<p> -"We are on our way to dinner at the Lacys', and as we -had ten minutes to spare——" -</p> - -<p> -"For a wonder!" growled Sir Douglas. -</p> - -<p> -"——Douglas was determined to look in upon you." -</p> - -<p> -Mona smiled across brightly at her uncle, but she fervently -hoped the ten minutes would be over before Dr Dudley -arrived. It was at least fortunate that the engagement -was dinner. -</p> - -<p> -The ten minutes, however, still had half their course to -run when Mona heard a timid knock at the street-door. -</p> - -<p> -"That can't be his," she said to herself. But she did not -find it easy to preserve her self-control when she heard -footsteps coming up-stairs. -</p> - -<p> -A moment later the door was thrown open, and the -parlour-maid announced— -</p> - -<p> -"Mr Brown from Kilwinnie." -</p> - -<p> -Mona's heart stood still, but the situation had to be -faced. -</p> - -<p> -"How kind of you to come and see me!" she said, going -forward to meet him. "Aunt Maud, Uncle Douglas, this is -my friend Mr Brown." -</p> - -<p> -She laid the least possible deliberate emphasis on the -words "my friend," and she turned to her uncle right -proudly as she said them. -</p> - -<p> -Sir Douglas had risen from his chair when she did, and -now he bowed somewhat formally. The lines of his mouth -were a little hard. Possibly he found it difficult to suppress -a smile. -</p> - -<p> -Mona made a motion of her hand towards an easy-chair, -and Mr Brown seated himself on the edge of it, wiping his -brow with a large silk handkerchief. -</p> - -<p> -"I was coming up to town on business," he said shyly, -"so I got your address from Mrs Easson." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh yes. How is Mrs Easson?" -</p> - -<p> -"She wasn't very well a week or two back, but she seems -pretty much in her usual again." -</p> - -<p> -Mona turned to her aunt. "Mr Brown is a fellow-enthusiast -of mine on the subject of botany," she said. "He -is the greatest living authority on the fauna and flora of the -district in which he lives. I want him to write a book on -the subject." -</p> - -<p> -"Indeed!" said Lady Munro, with a pretty assumption -of interest. -</p> - -<p> -Mr Brown shook his head. "No, no," he said, "Professor -Bristowe was saying that; but you would need to be familiar -with the whole county before you could write a book it -would be worth while reading, and I never have time to get -very far. It's only once a-week that I can get an afternoon -away from the shop, and now I shall have less time than -ever." He looked rather sheepishly at Mona, and added, -"They've just over-persuaded me to take the Provost-ship." -</p> - -<p> -"I am glad to hear they have shown so much sense," she -answered cordially. "I don't know whether you are to be -congratulated or not, but I am quite sure they are." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I don't know that. They could easily have got -somebody who was more of a hand at speeches, but they -would take no refusal, so to say." -</p> - -<p> -There was a pause. -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose you have just come up to town?" Sir Douglas -remarked affably; and Mona looked at him with infinite -gratitude. -</p> - -<p> -"I came up last night." He looked again at Mona. "I -was here once before, to-day." -</p> - -<p> -She smiled. "I heard that somebody had called, but I -did not know it was you. I am sorry you had the trouble -of coming twice. I suppose you find London a great deal -warmer than Kilwinnie?" -</p> - -<p> -"It's warm everywhere just now." He turned to Sir -Douglas, with an idea that his next remark was peculiarly -suited to masculine ears. "It's very poor weather for the -turnips." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah! I suppose it is," Sir Douglas said, so genially that -Mr Brown took courage, and looked at Mona's aunt. -</p> - -<p> -Lady Munro's Indian shawl had fallen back, and the -draper made a mental valuation of her heavy silk dress. -It would be no use keeping a thing like that in his shop. -Then his eye fell on Sir Douglas, and for the first time in -his life he realised that a man could wear evening-dress -without making a fool of himself. From the easily fitting -swallow-tail his eye passed to the spotless, dazzling -shirt-front, and, with something of a blush, he pulled the sleeves -of his tweed coat over the cuffs which his sister had so -carefully trimmed before he left home. -</p> - -<p> -"I am afraid we shall have to go," Lady Munro said, -glancing at Mona's carriage clock; and, as she rose, she -looked somewhat pointedly at Mr Brown. -</p> - -<p> -The hint was lost on him, however. He bowed awkwardly -to Lady Munro, and waited till Mona returned to -the sitting-room. -</p> - -<p> -"Miss Maclean," he blurted out hastily, "you will be -disposed to laugh at me when I tell you I came here to ask -you to be my wife. I knew you were far above me, but I -had no notion of the like of this. You've no need to tell -me that it can never be, but if ever you stand in need of a -plain man's friendship, you know who to come to." -</p> - -<p> -He held out his hand, forgetful of the frayed cuff, and -Mona's eyes filled with tears as she took it. -</p> - -<p> -"It is true it can never be, Mr Brown," she said—"not -because I am above you, but because I don't love you as a -good woman will some day. But I shall be proud and grateful, -as long as I live, to think that so good a man has -honoured me with his love." -</p> - -<p> -She went with him to the door, and with a few -common-place words they parted. -</p> - -<p> -For the first time in her life Mona felt something of a -contempt for Dr Dudley. -</p> - -<p> -"What a fool I am," she thought, "to break my heart for -you, when at least two greater men have wanted to make me -their wife!" -</p> - -<p> -But, even as she spoke, she knew that her words were not -perfectly just. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap57"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER LVII. -<br /><br /> -HAVING IT OUT. -</h3> - -<p> -Lucy had taken rooms for her mother in an unpretentious -square in Bloomsbury, and Mr Reynolds had gladly agreed -to spend his short summer holiday with his wife and daughter -in London. Dr Alice Bateson had called the day after their -arrival, and had gone into the case very thoroughly. -</p> - -<p> -"There is no doubt that your mother must have an operation," -she had said to Lucy, in her brusque fashion, "but it -is nothing that need make you unhappy. So far as one can -see, the chances are all in her favour, and she will be a -different being when it is over. I would like her to rest, and -take a tonic for a week or so, in order to get up her strength -as much as possible; but I should not advise her to postpone -it any longer than that." -</p> - -<p> -Lucy was in great spirits. "What say you to that, -Daddy," she cried, "as the first-fruits of your investment in -me? We shall see Mother on the top of Snowdon before the -summer is over." -</p> - -<p> -"I think we shall be glad to rest content with something -short of that," he said, smiling, and stroking his wife's soft -hair. -</p> - -<p> -The operation was successfully accomplished in due course, -and as soon as Mrs Reynolds was well on the way to -recovery, Lucy insisted on taking her father about "to see -something of life," as she expressed it. -</p> - -<p> -"I thought I knew the full extent of your aunt's fascination," -she said to Mona, when the latter came in one day -with a basket of hothouse fruit for the invalid, "but I do -wish you had seen her with Father when we called. She -was a perfect woman, and a perfect child. He was awfully -impressed—thinks in his heart that she is thrown away on -Sir Douglas, which, in the immortal words of Euclid, is -absurd. Lady Munro told me afterwards that Father made -her wish she could go back and live her life all over again. -'It is so strange,' she said, with exquisite frankness, 'that -he should be your father!' '"Degeneration, a Chapter on -Darwinism,'"—in fact?' I suggested; but she only smiled -sweetly and said, 'What <i>do</i> you mean, child?'" -</p> - -<p> -"Was Sir Douglas at home?" -</p> - -<p> -"He came in for a few minutes at the end. He and my -father got on all right. Of course they only met -as——" she paused. -</p> - -<p> -"Of course—as two men of the world." -</p> - -<p> -"Do you call my father a man of the world?" Lucy asked, -surprised and pleased. -</p> - -<p> -"Assuredly." -</p> - -<p> -"Of this world, or the other?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona raised her eyes slowly. "Looked at from your -father's point of view, it is a little difficult to say where this -world ends and the other begins. He would tell you that -this is the other world, and the other world w this." -</p> - -<p> -"No, indeed, he would not. Father never gets on to the -eternals with me." -</p> - -<p> -This was rather a sore point with Lucy, so she hastened -on, "Do you know, your aunt's 'At Home' is going to be -no end of an affair?" -</p> - -<p> -"Is it?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes; I am in a state of wild excitement. Father is -giving me a new gown." -</p> - -<p> -"I am frivolling shamefully this week," Mona said. "I -have promised to go to the Bernards' at Surbiton from Saturday -to Monday. I don't think I ought to go to my aunt's as -well." -</p> - -<p> -"Tell Sir Douglas that! By the way, while you are here, -you might cast your eagle eye through that microscope, and -tell me what the slide is. I forgot to label it at the time, -and now I can't spot it." -</p> - -<p> -Mona bent over Lucy's writing-table in the window. "I -suppose you are not used to picrocarmine," she said. "It is -only a 'venous congestion,' but it is cut far too thick. I can -give you a much better one." -</p> - -<p> -"Just scribble 'venous congestion' on the label, will you t -before I forget again. Now I think of it, Miss Clark told -me it must be 'venous congestion,' because that was the only -red one we had mounted on a large slide! You will be -shocked to hear, Mona, that I made Father take me to hear -Dr Dudley lecture last night. That man's voice is worth a -fortune!" -</p> - -<p> -"Far too thick," repeated Mona, with unnecessary -emphasis. "You can make out nothing with the high -power at all. Where was he lecturing?" -</p> - -<p> -"To his Literary Society. Angela Davidson sent a note -to tell me. It really was magnificent—on The Rose in -Tennyson.[<a id="chap57fn1text"></a><a href="#chap57fn1">1</a>] I thought I knew my Tennyson, but Dr Dudley's -insight seemed to me perfectly wonderful. He was showing -how, all through Tennyson's poems, the red rose means love, -and he showed it in a thousand things I had never thought -of before. He began with <i>The Gardener's Daughter</i>, and -with simple idyllic quotations, like— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'Her feet have touched the meadows,<br /> - And left the daisies rosy.'<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap57fn1"></a> -[<a href="#chap57fn1text">1</a>] The following sketch was suggested by a very beautiful but as -yet unpublished paper, by a friend of the author. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="noindent"> -And he showed us how the whole world becomes a rose to -the lover. You know the passage, beginning, 'Go not, -happy day.' Then he worked us gradually on to the tragedy -of love,— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'I almost fear they are not roses, but blood.'<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -It made one's flesh creep to hear him say that. And again -triumphantly,— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'The blood-red blossom of war with a heart of fire.'<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -Then he took us by surprise, passed beyond human love -altogether, and ended up with God's rose:— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'At last I heard a voice upon the slope<br /> - Cry to the summit, "Is there any hope?"<br /> - To which an answer pealed from that high land,<br /> - But in a tongue no man could understand;<br /> - And on the glittering limit far withdrawn<br /> - God made Himself an awful rose of dawn.'<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -I did not understand it all; but, when he stopped, I found -my eyes were full of tears, and Father was so struck that he -went up to speak to Dr Dudley before we came away." -</p> - -<p> -Mona said nothing. What would she not have given to -have heard that paper! -</p> - -<p> -"But here comes Dad," Lucy went on. "Father, I want -you to tell Mona about that lecture last night." -</p> - -<p> -"Your mother wants you, dear," he said, laying his hand -on her shoulder, and then he seated himself by the open -window. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I confess I was very much struck," he said. "One -rarely meets with such fine—<i>appreciation</i>. It seems to me -that young man will make his mark. I should greatly like -his help with a little bit of work I am doing on Wordsworth -just now, so I asked him to come and see me some evening. -He promised very cordially to do so to-morrow, and now I -want him to meet my elder daughter. If you can spare the -time, I am sure you would enjoy hearing him talk. Will -you come?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona retained sufficient presence of mind to wonder -whether it was worth while trying to conceal how far she -had lost it, and then she turned her white face to Mr -Reynolds. -</p> - -<p> -"I think I had better not come," she said, rather -breathlessly. "I—know Dr Dudley." -</p> - -<p> -Nay, verily! If ever they met again, it should be by no -doing of hers. -</p> - -<p> -"Just as you please, dear, of course." -</p> - -<p> -She was a little surprised that Mr Reynolds asked no -questions. She did not know that she had already given -him the remaining links of her story, and that the chain in -his mind was now practically complete. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -All through the lecture on the previous evening, Dudley -had wondered vaguely to whom the grand white head -belonged, and when the owner of it came up at the close, -and told him how much he had enjoyed the evening, Dudley -felt the compliment much more keenly than most clever -young men would have done. He was drawing sufficiently -near the farther boundary of youth to dread the advance of -age; and his love and admiration for Mrs Hamilton made a -warm corner in his heart for all old people. -</p> - -<p> -He arrived early on the evening of his appointment, and -knocked at the door with a good deal of pleasant -anticipation. The Reynolds seemed to have brought with them to -London the atmosphere of their country home. The room -was sweet with old-fashioned flowers, tea and fruit and -home-made cake were laid out on the spotless cloth, and -the windows were opened wide on a world of green. Moreover, -the very sight of Mr Reynolds's refined and beautiful -face seemed to throw the dust and turmoil of the world -outside into the far distance. Petty aims lost half their -attraction, the ideal became more real, when one entered -that plain little room. "Is this really London?" Dudley -said, as he shook hands with the invalid on the sofa. -</p> - -<p> -"I am happy to say it is," she answered, smiling. -"London has done great things for me." -</p> - -<p> -"That is right. We hear so much of its misdeeds now-a-days -that it is refreshing to be brought in contact with -the other side of the question." -</p> - -<p> -In a few minutes Lucy came in, bright and smiling. -Dudley had not noticed her with her father at the lecture, -and her relationship to the saintly old clergyman was as -great a surprise to him as it had been to Lady Munro. -</p> - -<p> -"How I wish I had asked Mona to come in!" she exclaimed, -as she seated herself in front of the tea-tray. -</p> - -<p> -No one answered, but Mr Reynolds glanced at his visitor's -face. -</p> - -<p> -"You know who I mean," Lucy went on, turning to -Dudley, "my friend Miss Maclean. You were talking to -her for a long time at the Davidsons' the other day. Is not -she awfully clever?" -</p> - -<p> -"Particularly, I should think." -</p> - -<p> -There was no sneer in the words, but the frank, almost -boyish simplicity, which had come so naturally to Dudley a -few minutes before, was gone. -</p> - -<p> -"'Her price is far above rubies,'" quoted Mr Reynolds -quietly. -</p> - -<p> -It was Dudley's turn now to raise his eyes, and glance -quickly at his host. -</p> - -<p> -Whenever there was a pause in the conversation, Lucy -had some fresh tale to tell about Mona. This was nothing -new with her, and Mr Reynolds made no effort to prevent -it. He thought it a fortunate chance that, without a hint -from him, she should thus unconsciously play so effectually -into his hands. He could scarcely tell whether Dr -Dudley found the conversation trying or not, but there -could be no doubt that the young man was profoundly -interested. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you know Sir Douglas Munro?" he said suddenly -to Lucy. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh yes, very well indeed. Do you?" -</p> - -<p> -"I met him accidentally, a year or two ago, and the other -day I called to ask him to give me his votes for a case I am -trying to get into the Incurable Hospital. He was very -cordial, and asked me to a musical evening at his house -to-morrow." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, do go! It is going to be splendid, and I expect -you will hear Miss Maclean sing. She has such a -sympathetic voice." -</p> - -<p> -Wordsworth received but scant justice when the two men -retired to Mr Reynolds's study. Each felt strongly the -spiritual kinship of the other, and they talked as men -rarely do talk at a first or second meeting. -</p> - -<p> -"I have stayed an unconscionable time," Ralph said at -last, "and I hope you will let me come again. I can -scarcely tell you what you have done for me. You have -made me feel that 'the best is yet to be.'" -</p> - -<p> -Mr Reynolds did not answer immediately. When he did, -it was to say somewhat dreamily— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "'But I need now as then,<br /> - Thee, God, who mouldest men.'<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -I wish I had your voice, Dr Dudley. With such an organ, -and with such a faith, you ought to be able to move -mankind." -</p> - -<p> -"Faith?" repeated Dudley; "I am not overburdened -with that." -</p> - -<p> -"By faith I did not mean creed. I was thinking of your -paper the other evening." -</p> - -<p> -Dudley winced. "That paper was not written yesterday," -he said. "I had neither the heart nor the energy to write -another, so I -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'Gored mine own thought, sold cheap what is most dear."<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -Greater men than I have preached to-day the faith of -yesterday, in the hope that it might return to-morrow. -But I am afraid that sort of faith never does return." -</p> - -<p> -"Had you built your house upon the sand?" -</p> - -<p> -Ralph coloured. He could not honestly say that. -</p> - -<p> -"Dr Dudley," said the old man quietly, "you and I have -been disposed to trust each other to-night. Before you go, -there is one thing I want to tell you. You know that Miss -Maclean is my daughter's friend. I don't know whether -you are aware that she is as dear to me as my own child; -that outside my own small family circle there is no woman -living in whom I am so deeply interested. I invited her to -meet you this evening, and she refused. If you had not -made me respect you, I should not ask you, as I do now, to -tell me why she refused?" -</p> - -<p> -Dudley's face was a battle-field of conflicting emotions. -</p> - -<p> -"What has she told you about me?" he said at last. -</p> - -<p> -"She has never mentioned your name." Mr Reynolds -hesitated; and then made up his mind to risk all, and go -on. "One day I was praising her steadfastness of purpose -in remaining in her uncongenial surroundings at Borrowness, -and she told me, with an honesty of which I am not sure -that you and I would have been capable, that—the people -she met were not all uncongenial. She spoke as a girl -speaks who has never thought of love or marriage; but her -words conveyed more to my mind than they meant to -her." -</p> - -<p> -Vague as Mr Reynolds's words were, he could have chosen -no surer key to unlock Ralph's heart. A vivid picture of -the old idyllic days at Castle Maclean flashed across his mind, -and with it came an almost unbearable sense of regret. Oh, -the pity of it! the pity of it! -</p> - -<p> -"I will tell you!" he burst out suddenly. "God knows -it will be a relief to speak to any man, and I believe you will -understand. Besides, I <i>owe</i> an explanation to somebody who -cares for her. Ninety-nine men out of a hundred would -have thought nothing of it, but to me it was <i>just everything</i>. -If she failed me there, she failed me everywhere. One could -reason about a crime, but you can't reason about a subtle -thing like that. It is in the grain of a man's mind. If it -strikes you, it strikes you; and if it doesn't strike you, it -doesn't strike you; and that's final. It is everything or -nothing. And the worst of it is, that as things stand, I have -wronged her horribly, and I can't put it right. If she were -an ordinary woman it would be a matter of honour to ignore -it all, and ask her to be one's wife; but she is Miss Maclean. -If one has any <i>arrière pensée</i>, one must at least have the -decency to let things alone, and not insult her farther." -</p> - -<p> -In the course of Mr Reynolds's experience as a clergyman -he had heard many incoherent confessions, but he had rarely -listened to one which left him so completely in the dark as -this. His face betrayed no perplexity, however, as he said, -"Tell me how you met her, and where." -</p> - -<p> -Then by degrees the truth began to dawn upon him. With -bitter self-mockery, Dudley told the story of his doubt as to -whether he could marry a "shop-girl"; told how his passion -grew till it swept away all obstacles; and then he just hinted -at what took place that stormy night when he brought her -home from the wood. -</p> - -<p> -"And you told her you loved her?" The words were -spoken very quietly and as a matter of course. -</p> - -<p> -Dudley's face flushed more deeply. -</p> - -<p> -"I think we had both risen pretty well above the need of -words that night," he said, with a nervous laugh. "When -an electric spark passes between two spheres—— You see, -I was weighed down by the feeling that I had wasted my -life; this London course was a sort of atonement; and I -would not ask a woman to be my wife till I had at least left -all schoolboy work behind me. But that night I forgot -myself." -</p> - -<p> -"And when you met her next——?" -</p> - -<p> -"I left Borrowness the next day." Dudley's lip curled. -"Our next meeting was a fine dramatic tableau at Burlington -House, a modern version of the sudden transformation -of Cinderella." -</p> - -<p> -"But you had written to her?" -</p> - -<p> -Dudley shook his head. "I had told her—before that -night—that I should not be a free man till my examination -was over in July. She was so quick; she always seemed to -understand. But when I went down to Borrowness, half -mad with longing for her—her cousin had gone to America, -and Miss Maclean, I was told, was starting for Switzerland -with a party of friends!" -</p> - -<p> -"Did you write to her then?" -</p> - -<p> -"I did not know her address. And it was no use <i>writing</i> -about a thing like that. Then came my aunt's long illness. -She was the best friend I had in the world, and she died." -</p> - -<p> -He paused, and resumed with a sudden change of tone, -"Miss Maclean told me her name was Margaret." -</p> - -<p> -"Margaret is her second name." -</p> - -<p> -"Of course I know," Dudley broke out again vehemently, -"that thousands of men would treat the whole affair as a -joke; would be glad to find that the woman they loved had -money and position, after all; but I cared for Miss Maclean -on a plane above that. It drives me mad to think how she -sat looking at me with those honest eyes, listening to my -confessions, and playing her pretty little comedy all the -time." -</p> - -<p> -Mr Reynolds waited in vain for Dudley to go on before -he spoke. -</p> - -<p> -"I cannot imagine," he said at last, "why you did not ask -her to explain herself." -</p> - -<p> -Dudley bit his lip. "If Miss Maclean had forged a -cheque," he said, "I should have asked her to explain -herself. It seems to me that the one thing in life of which no -explanation is possible, in a difference of opinion as to what -is due to friendship—or love." -</p> - -<p> -"Did it never occur to you that Miss Maclean's cousin -might have bound her over not to tell any one that she was -a medical student?" -</p> - -<p> -There was a pause. -</p> - -<p> -"Why should she?" Dudley asked harshly. -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Why</i> she did it I presume was best known to herself—though, -considering the kind of person she seems to have -been, it does not strike me as particularly surprising; but -one thing I am in a position to say unhesitatingly, and that -is, that she did do it." -</p> - -<p> -Another long pause. -</p> - -<p> -"Even if she did," Dudley said, "what was a trumpery -promise like that between her and me, if she loved me?" -</p> - -<p> -"Perhaps you did not give her much opportunity to speak -of herself; but when I saw her in October, she certainly did -not love any man. Whether you taught her to love you -afterwards, you are of course the best judge. I do not think -she was bound to tell you before she knew that you loved -her; and, judging from your own account of what took place, -you do not seem to have made it very easy for a self-respecting -woman to tell you afterwards." -</p> - -<p> -Little by little the truth of this came home to Ralph, as -he sat with his eyes fixed on the glowing embers of the fire. -</p> - -<p> -Mr Reynolds gave his words time to take full effect and -then went on. -</p> - -<p> -"When I think how you have made that sensitive girl -suffer, Dr Dudley, I am tempted to forget that I owe my -knowledge of the circumstances entirely to your courtesy." -</p> - -<p> -Ralph looked up with a rather wintry smile. -</p> - -<p> -"Don't spare me," he said. "Hit hard!" And then -there was another long silence. -</p> - -<p> -"The one thing I cannot explain," said Mr Reynolds, "is -her telling you that her name was Margaret." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, that's simple enough. It was in early days. I was -talking of the name in the abstract, and she said it was -hers; I daresay she never thought of the incident again; -and then I saw it in her prayer-book—her mother's, no -doubt. Mr Reynolds, I have been a blind fool; but I do -think still that she ought to have told me." -</p> - -<p> -"Since the old man has your permission to hit hard, you -will allow me to say, that I think you do not realise how far -injured pride has a share in your righteous indignation; but -I have no wish to convince you. I would fain see my 'elder -daughter' the wife of a nobler man." -</p> - -<p> -Ralph smiled in spite of himself. -</p> - -<p> -"That certainly is delivered straight out from the shoulder!" -he said; "but do you think it is quite just? Every man is -exacting on certain points. That was mine. But I am not -a savage. No woman on earth should be so free and so -honoured as my wife." -</p> - -<p> -Mr Reynolds rose and held out his hand. -</p> - -<p> -"It is midnight," he said, "and I have no more to say. -Go home and think about it." -</p> - -<p> -But when Ralph left the house, it was not to go home, -but to pace up and down the squares, in such a tumult -of excitement and thanksgiving as he had never known -before. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap58"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER LVIII. -<br /><br /> -"LOVE MAY GO HANG!" -</h3> - -<p> -Lady Munro's "At Home" proved, as Lucy had predicted, -"no end of an affair." Sir Douglas considered it snobbish -to entertain on a scale beyond the resources of his own -<i>ménage</i>; but, if the thing was to be done, he would at least -have it done without any visible straining on the part of -host and hostess. So the rooms at Gloucester Place were -given over to the tender mercies of Liberty and Gunter for -a day or two, and during that time most people found it -advisable to keep out of Sir Douglas's way. -</p> - -<p> -When Mona alighted from her cab on the expanse of -crimson drugget before the door, she would not have recognised -her aunt's rooms. The half lights, the subtle Eastern -aroma, and the picturesque figure of Nubboo had -disappeared, giving place to a blaze of pretty lamps, festoons -of æsthetic drapery, profuse vegetation, and groups of -magnificent footmen. -</p> - -<p> -"Come along, Mona!" Evelyn cried impatiently. "Lucy -has been here for half an hour. I was so afraid you would -be too late to see the rooms before the bloom is knocked off -them. The supper-table is simply a dream." -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Bless my soul!</i>" said Lucy, in an awestruck whisper, as -Mona threw off her cloak. "You do look imposing! Mary -Stuart going to the scaffold is not in it. I don't think I -ever saw you in black before. If only you would show a -little more of that swan-white neck and arms, I honestly -believe this would be the achievement by which you would -live in history." -</p> - -<p> -"The fact is," Mona said, laughing, "it has been borne -in upon me lately that the youthfulness of my appearance -now-a-days is dependent on the absence from the stage of -sweet seventeen; so I resolved, like Sir Walter Scott, to -strike out in a new line. I aim at dignity now. This"—she -glanced over her shoulder at the stately figure in the -pier-glass—"is my <i>Waverley</i>. I flatter myself that you -young Byrons can't compete with me here." -</p> - -<p> -"No, indeed! Schoolgirl is the word," Lucy said, ruefully -stepping in front of Mona to survey her own pretty -gown in the pier-glass; but this was so palpably untrue that -they all laughed. -</p> - -<p> -"I am sure you looked dignified enough in the blue -velvet. I wonder you did not wear your diamonds, Mona, -while you were about it?" -</p> - -<p> -"I wanted to, but I did not dare to do it without asking -Uncle Douglas, and he would not hear of such a thing. -The old darling! He sent me these white orchids to make -up. I must go and let him see how they look, before people -begin to arrive." -</p> - -<p> -But Sir Douglas was only half pleased with Mona's gown. -</p> - -<p> -"It is all very well in a crowd like this, perhaps," he -said, "but don't wear that dowager plumage when we are -by ourselves." -</p> - -<p> -An hour later the rooms were full, and a crowd had -gathered in the street below to listen to the music, and to -catch an occasional glimpse of fair faces and dainty gowns. -</p> - -<p> -Several professional singers had been engaged, but when -most of the people had gone down to supper, and the -music-room was half empty, Sir Douglas begged Mona to sing. -</p> - -<p> -"We want something to rest our nerves," he said, "after -all that. Sing that little thing of Beethoven's." -</p> - -<p> -He had heard her singing it in her own room one day, -when she did not know he was within hearing, and the -pathetic song had been a favourite with him ever since. -</p> - -<p> -It was a fine exercise in self-control, and Mona accepted it. -The excitement of the evening raised her somewhat above -the level of her own personality, and she thought she could -do justice to the pathos of the song without spoiling it by -feeling too much. -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "But if thy vow weary thee now,<br /> - Though I should weep for thee, come not to me."<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -The door of the music-room stood open, and it was fortunate -for the success of her song that the last wailing notes had -died away before she caught sight of a figure on the landing, -reflected in the mirror opposite. -</p> - -<p> -In an instant the sympathetic pleading look went out of -her face; she struck a few defiant chords, and launched into -Moore's quaint, piquant little melody:— -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - "When Love is kind, cheerful, and free,<br /> - Love's sure to find welcome from me;<br /> - But when Love brings heartache and pang,<br /> - Tears and such things, Love may go hang!<br /> -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - If Love can sigh for one alone,<br /> - Well-pleased am I to be that one;<br /> - But if I see Love giv'n to rove<br /> - To two or three,—then good-bye, Love!<br /> -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - Love must, in short, keep fond and true,<br /> - Through good report and evil too;<br /> - Else here I swear young Love may go,<br /> - For aught I care, to Jericho!"<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -She sang with great <i>verve</i>, and of course there was a -storm of applause as she finished. -</p> - -<p> -Ralph, looking on, could scarcely believe his eyes and -ears. Was she thinking of him? Had his love brought -her heartache and pang? He would fain have persuaded -himself at that moment that it had; but the very idea -of such a thing seemed ridiculous as he looked at her now. -</p> - -<p> -What a chameleon she was! Ever since his conversation -with Mr Reynolds the night before, he had pictured her -looking up in his face with that sweet half-childlike -expression, "Dr Dudley, what have I done?" and here she -was, cold, brilliant, self-possessed, surrounded by a group of -men of the world, and apparently very much at her ease -with them. -</p> - -<p> -"Why, Mona!" Sir Douglas said, laying his hand on her arm. -</p> - -<p> -It was a pretty sight to see how her face changed. -</p> - -<p> -"Don't be angry," she said coaxingly, turning away from -the others. "We have had nothing but sentiment all -evening, and it proved nauseous at last." -</p> - -<p> -"We will discuss that another time. Come now and -have some supper." -</p> - -<p> -Dudley escaped into the adjoining room. He felt positively -jealous of Sir Douglas. -</p> - -<p> -"What the deuce did I come here for?" he said, looking -round the sea of unknown faces. He would not own, even -to himself, that he had come in the hope of having a -long talk with Mona. But just then he caught sight of -Lucy Reynolds, and went up to speak to her. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, Dr Dudley, I am so glad to see you," she said -eagerly. -</p> - -<p> -This was very soothing, and Ralph seated himself on a -vacant chair beside her. -</p> - -<p> -"I hope your father may be able to say the same when I -meet him next. I am afraid I proved a heavy strain on his -endurance last night." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh no! I will spare your blushes, and not tell you -what father said of you at breakfast this morning." -</p> - -<p> -But this remark had not the desired effect of sparing -Ralph's blushes. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you know many people here?" he asked. -</p> - -<p> -"No, I am rather out of it." -</p> - -<p> -"So am I. It was quite refreshing to see a face I knew." -</p> - -<p> -"Have you seen Miss Maclean?" -</p> - -<p> -"I have heard her sing. She seems to be greatly in -requisition." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, of course she is practically a daughter of the -house, and Miss Munro is so young." -</p> - -<p> -"May I have the pleasure of taking you down to supper?" -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you, I have promised to go with Mr Lacy. Here -he comes." -</p> - -<p> -And Ralph was left alone once more. He could not tear -himself away from the house till he had seen Mona again; and, -while he waited, he suddenly espied his friend Jack Melville. -</p> - -<p> -"How in the world do you come to be here?" he asked, -surprised. -</p> - -<p> -"If I had not been well brought up, dear boy, I should -repeat the question. As it is, with characteristic -complaisance I answer it. I am here, firstly, because I cherish -a hopeless passion for Lady Munro; secondly, because my -cousins were kind enough to bring me." -</p> - -<p> -"I did not know you knew the Munros." -</p> - -<p> -"My acquaintance with them is not profound. It is -enough to see Lady Munro, and hear her speak. She is -simply perfect; at least I thought so until I was introduced -to her niece. Jove! Ralph, that is a stunning girl!" -</p> - -<p> -Ralph did not answer. -</p> - -<p> -"Did you see her sing?" -</p> - -<p> -"I heard her." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, but you should have seen her. She changed completely -when she sang that first thing. She has a face like -your <i>Nydia</i>." -</p> - -<p> -At this moment Mona entered the room on her uncle's -arm. She was, as Ralph had said, very much in requisition, -and it was almost impossible to get a chance to speak to her. -Ralph was very pale with excitement. Convinced as he -now was that he had inflicted a great deal of unnecessary -suffering, possibly on her, and certainly on himself, he -would not have found it easy to face even Miss Simpson's -assistant. How, then, was he to address this woman of -the world, who sat there so thoroughly at ease in her own -circle, so utterly regardless of him? -</p> - -<p> -Ralph watched his opportunity, however, and when Mona -rose, he took his courage in both hands. -</p> - -<p> -"Miss Maclean," he said, in a low voice, "will you allow -me to see you to your carriage?" -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you very much," she said simply, "but I have -promised to stay here all night." -</p> - -<p> -Ralph bit his lip. No, certainly she had not been -thinking of him when she sang that song. -</p> - -<p> -He made a few commonplace remarks, to which Mona -replied quietly, but it was maddening work trying to talk to -her in that crowd, and he soon gave up the attempt in -despair. To-morrow, thank heaven! he could see her alone. -</p> - -<p> -"Have not you had enough of this, Jack?" he said to -his friend. "I vote we go home." -</p> - -<p> -"Done! Let's go and have a smoke." -</p> - -<p> -When the two men entered Dudley's sitting-room, Jack -walked straight up to the <i>Nydia</i> on the wall. -</p> - -<p> -"There!" he said triumphantly. "Miss Maclean might -have stood for that." -</p> - -<p> -"Or you might!" said Ralph scornfully. -</p> - -<p> -But when his friend was gone, he owned to himself that -there was a superficial resemblance to Mona in the contour -of the face, and in the breadth of movement suggested -by the artist. Ralph laid down his meerschaum and walked -across the room to look at it. -</p> - -<p> -The blind girl was carrying roses—white roses—all white. -One red rose had been among them, but it had fallen -unheeded to the ground, and would soon be trodden under -foot on the tesselated pavement. Why had she dropped the -red rose? She could ill spare that. -</p> - -<p> -And then a curious fancy came upon him, and he asked -himself whether Mona too had dropped her red rose. She -had seemed so cold, so self-possessed, so passionless. Did -the red rose lie quite, quite behind her? Was it already -withered and trampled under foot, or could he still help her -to pick it up again? -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, my love, my love," he said, "you don't really care -for all those men! You do belong to me, don't you? don't -you?" -</p> - -<p> -But at this point Ralph's thoughts became incoherent, -if indeed they had not been so before. -</p> - -<p> -To-morrow, at least, thank God! she would be out of the -din and crowd; to-morrow he could see her alone, and say -whatever he would. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap59"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER LIX. -<br /><br /> -AT LAST! -</h3> - -<p> -Neither Ralph nor Mona slept much that night. -</p> - -<p> -Mr Reynolds had said nothing to his "elder daughter" -about his conversation with Dr Dudley. He had sufficient -confidence in her absolute honesty to believe that she would -do herself more justice if she were taken unprepared; but -Ralph's manner at the Munros' had been a revelation in -itself, and Mona felt sure that night that, for better or -worse, some great change had taken place in his feelings -towards her. -</p> - -<p> -"Let me not lose my pride!" she cried. "Nothing can -alter the fact that he has treated me cruelly—cruelly." -</p> - -<p> -She had promised to go down to Surbiton to spend a day -or two with a fellow-student, and, unwilling as she was to -leave London at this juncture, she determined to keep her -promise to the letter. -</p> - -<p> -So when Ralph knocked at her door in the early afternoon, -he was met by the news that she had gone to the -country till Monday. She had started only a few minutes -before, and had left no address; but the maid had heard her -tell the cabman to drive to Waterloo. -</p> - -<p> -Two minutes later Ralph was tearing through the streets -in a hansom. He had wasted time enough, fool that he was! -Nothing should induce him now to wait another hour. -</p> - -<p> -Just outside the station he met Lucy. -</p> - -<p> -"Mona is starting for Surbiton," she said. "I am -hurrying to catch a train at Cannon Street." -</p> - -<p> -"Alone?" -</p> - -<p> -Lucy did not ask to whom he referred. "Yes," she said. -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you." He lifted his hat, and turned away without -another word. With the reckless speed of a schoolboy -he tore through the station, and overtook the object of his -search as she passed inside the rail of the booking office. -</p> - -<p> -"Two first-class tickets for Surbiton," he said, before she -had time to speak. -</p> - -<p> -"One third-class return for Surbiton," said Mona, with a -dignity that strangely belied the beating of her heart. -</p> - -<p> -"No hurry, sir," said the man, stamping Mona's ticket -first. "You have three minutes yet." -</p> - -<p> -"I have got your ticket," Dudley said, joining Mona on -the platform. "You will come with me." -</p> - -<p> -The words were spoken almost more as a command than -as a request. -</p> - -<p> -("Let me not lose my pride!") -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you very much." she said; "I never travel first-class." -</p> - -<p> -"You will to-day." -</p> - -<p> -Her only answer was to open the door of a third-class -carriage. -</p> - -<p> -Dudley bit his lip—then smiled. "Do you <i>prefer</i> a -smoking-carriage?" he said. -</p> - -<p> -She laughed nervously, and, moving on to the next, -entered it without a word. Ralph longed to follow her, but -he prudently thought better of it. -</p> - -<p> -With punctilious courtesy he saw her into the carriage; -and then, closing the door, he lifted his hat and walked -away. -</p> - -<p> -Mona turned very pale. -</p> - -<p> -"I cannot help it," she said. "He has treated me cruelly, -and he cannot expect me to forget it all in a moment." But -I think it would have done Ralph's heart good if he could -have seen the expression of her face. -</p> - -<p> -Very slowly the train moved off, but Ralph's lucky star -must have been in the ascendant, for at the last moment a -party of rough men burst open the door, and projected -themselves into the carriage where Mona was sitting alone. -They did not mean to be offensive, but they laughed and -talked loudly, and spat on the floor, and fondled their pipes -in a way that was not suggestive of prolonged abstinence -from the not very fragrant weed. -</p> - -<p> -At the first station Ralph opened the door. -</p> - -<p> -"You seem rather crowded here," he said, in a voice of -cold courtesy. "There is more room in a carriage further -along. Do you think it worth while to move?" -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you," said Mona, and she rose and took his hand. -</p> - -<p> -"Let me not lose my pride!" she prayed again, but she -felt, as she had done that night long ago in the shadow of -the frosted pines, as if the earth was slipping away from -under her feet. -</p> - -<p> -He followed her into the carriage and closed the door. It -was big with meaning for both of them, the sound of that -closing door. -</p> - -<p> -Neither spoke until the train had moved off. -</p> - -<p> -"You need not have been so afraid to grant me an interview, -Miss Maclean," he said at length. "I only wished to -ask your forgiveness." -</p> - -<p> -In one great wave the blood rushed over her face, and she -held out her hand. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, Dr Dudley, forgive <i>me</i>!" she said. -</p> - -<p> -"I want to," he said quite simply. "I have been far -more to blame than you, but that is nothing. Tell me about -it. Did our friendship mean nothing to you?—had I no -claim upon your candour? Don't look out of the window; -look me in the face." -</p> - -<p> -"Dr Dudley," she said, "you are so quick, so clever, did -you not see? My cousin had asked me not to say that I -was a medical student, and I had promised faithfully to do -as she wished. It never entered my mind at that time that -I might want to tell any one down there, and—and—I did -not know till that night at the fir-wood—— But I can't -bear to have mysteries, even from my friends, and a dozen -times I was going to ask her permission to tell you, but -somehow I had not the courage. One morning, in the shop, -after your first visit to Rachel, I wanted to tell you then, -and risk her anger afterwards; but my heart beat so fast -that I was ashamed to speak. Don't you see? It was one of -those trifles that one thinks about, and thinks about, till one -can't say or do them—like stopping to consider before jumping -across an easy crevasse. And yet, let me say this one thing -in my own defence. You can scarcely conceive how little -opening you gave me, how absolutely you took me for granted." -</p> - -<p> -An expression of infinite relief had come over his face -while she was speaking; but now he winced and drew down -his brows. "Don't!" he ejaculated gloomily. Then he -shook himself. "I retract that 'Don't,'" he said. "You -shall say what you please. Your touch is a great deal -gentler than my boundless egotism deserves." -</p> - -<p> -"It was not egotism," Mona said, recovering her -self-possession in a moment, with a pretty toss of her head. "I -will not be cheated out of the gracefullest compliment that -ever was paid to me. I should have been dreadfully hurt if -you had told me I was out of perspective." -</p> - -<p> -"Your reading is the correct one," said Dudley gravely. -"You are perfectly right." -</p> - -<p> -But his own confession was still to make, and he was -determined not to make it by halves. -</p> - -<p> -"In the course of our acquaintance, Miss Maclean," he -began somewhat stiltedly, "you have known me in the -three-fold capacity of snob, fool, and child." -</p> - -<p> -"In the course of our acquaintance," Mona interrupted -hastily, "I have known you in the threefold capacity of -teacher, friend, and——" -</p> - -<p> -"And what?" -</p> - -<p> -She laughed. "Memory fails me. I don't know." -</p> - -<p> -His eyes glowed like fire. -</p> - -<p> -"Don't you?" he said, with a tremor in his beautiful -voice. "<i>Come and learn!</i>" -</p> - -<p> -He rose and held out his arms. -</p> - -<p> -Mona tried to laugh, but the laugh died away on her lips; -she looked out of the window, but the landscape swam -before her eyes; even the noisy racketing of the train sank -away into the background of her perception, and she was -conscious of nothing save the magnetism of his presence, -and then of the passionate pressure of his arms. Her head -fell back, and her beautiful lips—all ignorant and -undefended—lay just beneath his own. -</p> - -<p> -Oh human love! what are you?—the fairest thing that -God has made, or a Will-o'-the-wisp sent to brighten a brief -space of life's journey with delusive light? I know not. -This I know, that when Ralph sent a kiss vibrating through -Mona's being, waking up a thousand echoes that had scarcely -been stirred before, the happiness of those two human souls -was almost greater than they could bear. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap60"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER LX. -<br /><br /> -ON THE RIVER. -</h3> - -<p> -Mona did not go to Surbiton, after all, that day. She -telegraphed to her friend from Clapham Junction, and then -she and Ralph took the train to Richmond. -</p> - -<p> -"Let me take you for a pull on the river," he had said. -"I have never done anything for you in my life, and my -arms just ache to be used in your service. Oh Mona, Mona, -Mona! it seems too good to be possible that you are still -the same simple, true-hearted girl that I knew at Castle -Maclean. By the way, do you know that Castle Maclean -is yours for life now? At least Carlton Lodge is, and only -the sea-gulls are likely to dispute my princess's claim to her -battlements." -</p> - -<p> -He handed her into a boat, and rowed out into the middle -of the river. -</p> - -<p> -"Now," he said, "you shall see what your slave's muscles -are worth." -</p> - -<p> -Like an arrow the little boat shot through the water in -the sunshine, and Mona laughed with delight at the -exhilaration of the swift rushing movement. -</p> - -<p> -"That will do, Dr Dudley," she said at last. "Don't -kill yourself." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't answer to the name," he said shortly, pulling -harder than ever. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, do please stop!" she cried. -</p> - -<p> -"Who is to stop?" he panted, determined not to give in. -</p> - -<p> -There was a moment's pause. A deep rosy colour settled -on her eager face. -</p> - -<p> -"Ralph," she said, scarcely above a whisper. -</p> - -<p> -The oars came to a standstill with a splash in the middle -of a stroke, and Ralph leaned forward with a low delighted -laugh. Then he sighed. -</p> - -<p> -"You had no eyes for me last night, Mona," he said. -</p> - -<p> -"Had not I?" -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Had you?</i>" very eagerly. -</p> - -<p> -But when the language of looks and smiles begins, the -historian does well to lay aside his pen. Are not these -things written in the memory of every man and woman who -has lived and loved? -</p> - -<p> -Not that there was any lack of words between them that -day. They had such endless arrears of talk to make up; -and a strange medley it would have sounded to a third pair -of ears. Now they were laughing over incidents in their -life at Borrowness, now exchanging memories of childhood, -and now consulting each other about puzzling cases they had -seen in hospital. -</p> - -<p> -It was a long cloudless summer day, and for these two it -was one of those rare days when the cup of pure earthly -happiness brims over, and merges into something greater. Every -simple act of life took on a fresh significance now that it was -seen through the medium of a double personality; every -trifling experience was full of flavour and of promise, like -the first-fruits of an infinite harvest. -</p> - -<p> -What is so hard to kill as the illusions of young love? -Crushed to-day under the cynicism and the grim experience -of the ages, they raise their buoyant heads again to-morrow, -fresher and more fragrant than ever. -</p> - -<p> -"I am going in to see Mr Reynolds for a few minutes," -Ralph said, as they walked home in the twilight. "Do you -know when I can see your uncle?" -</p> - -<p> -"On Monday morning, I should think—not too early. I -want to tell you about Sir Douglas. He never was my -guardian, and two years ago I had not even seen him; but -his kindness to me since then has been beyond all words. -Whatever he says—and I am afraid he will say a great -deal—you must not quarrel with him. He won't in the end -refuse me anything I have set my heart on. You see, he -scarcely knows you at all, and that whole Borrowness episode -is hateful to him beyond expression." -</p> - -<p> -And indeed, when Ralph called at Gloucester Place on -Monday, Sir Douglas forgot himself to an extent which is -scarcely possible to a gentleman, unless he happen to be an -Anglo-Indian. -</p> - -<p> -Ralph stated his case well and clearly, but for a long time -Sir Douglas could scarcely believe his ears. When at last -doubt was no longer possible, he sat for some minutes in -absolute silence, the muscles of his face twitching ominously. -</p> - -<p> -"By Jove! sir, you have the coolness of Satan!" he -burst forth at last, in a voice of concentrated passion; and -every word that Ralph added to better his cause was torn to -pieces and held up to derision with merciless cruelty. -</p> - -<p> -The moment his visitor was out of the house, Sir Douglas -put on his hat and went in search of Mona. -</p> - -<p> -"It is not true, is it," he said, "that you want to marry -that fellow?" -</p> - -<p> -So Mona told the story of how the clever young doctor -fell in love with the village shop-girl. -</p> - -<p> -"King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid, in fact," he -sneered. "If that young whipper-snapper had had the -impertinence to tell me that he thought you were really a -shop-girl, I should have knocked him down on my own doorstep. -Who is Dr Dudley? I never heard of him before." -</p> - -<p> -"I am afraid I am no authority on pedigrees," Mona said, -smiling. "But I have no doubt you could get the required -information from Colonel Lawrence." -</p> - -<p> -To the last Sir Douglas maintained that he could not -imagine what Mona saw in the fellow; but he came by -degrees to admit to himself that things might have been -worse. If Mona was determined to practise medicine, as -was certainly the case, it was as well that she should have a -man to relieve her of those parts of the work in which her -womanhood was not an essential factor; and it was a great -matter to think that he could have his niece in London -under his own eye. -</p> - -<p> -Jack Melville's opinion was characteristic. -</p> - -<p> -"Well played, Ralph!" he exclaimed. "It just shows -that one never ought to despair of a man. When you went -down to Borrowness after your Intermediate, I could have -sworn that the siren was going to have an easy walk over." -</p> - -<p> -"I am glad you both had sense enough to settle it so -quickly," Lucy said phlegmatically, when Mona told her the -news. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you mean to say you suspected anything?" -</p> - -<p> -"Suspected! I call that gratitude! The first time I saw -Dr Dudley at St Kunigonde's, he said the surgery was as -close as a Borrowness town-council room; and as soon as I -mentioned him to you, I saw it all. I have been trying to -bring you together ever since. <i>Suspect</i>, indeed! I can tell -you, Mona, it was as well for my peace of mind that I did -suspect." -</p> - -<p> -"What a she-Lothario it is!" -</p> - -<p> -"Don't be alarmed," said Lucy loftily. "When I was a -child I thought as a child, but—I have outgrown all such -frivolities. I—<i>I</i> am to be the advanced woman, after all! -When you and Doris are lost in your nurseries, I shall be -posing as a martyr, or leading a forlorn hope!" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap61"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER LXI. -<br /><br /> -A <i>FIN-DE-SIÈCLE</i> COURTSHIP. -</h3> - -<p> -It was arranged that the wedding should take place as -soon as Ralph and Mona had passed their M.B. examination -in the October of the following year; and during the fifteen -months that intervened, they resolved to devote themselves -with a whole heart to their studies, and if possible to forget -that they were lovers. -</p> - -<p> -"It would never do to fail at this juncture," Mona said, -when the first week of their engagement came to an end, -"and I certainly shall fail if we go on living at this rate. I -have a great mind to go to the Colquhouns', and study at the -Edinburgh School." -</p> - -<p> -This arrangement was rendered needless, however, by -Dudley's election as house-surgeon at St Kunigonde's,—an -appointment which left him little time for reading, and less -for any kind of recreation. -</p> - -<p> -So they rarely saw each other more than once a week, and -on these occasions Mona decreed that they should meet -simply as good friends and comrades. -</p> - -<p> -"For you must see, Ralph," she said, "how easy it is to -crowd the life and energy of seven days into that one weekly -meeting." -</p> - -<p> -"Your will shall be law," he said. "What a spending we -shall have some day, after all this saving!" -</p> - -<p> -But I doubt whether any man ever got more pleasure from -his courtship than Ralph did. There was a very subtle -delight about the pretty pretence that the touch of Mona's -hand meant no more than the touch of a friend's; and, in -proportion as she gave him little, he valued that little much. -</p> - -<p> -So the winter passed away, and summer came round once -more. -</p> - -<p> -Doris's marriage was to take place in August, and, a few -weeks before the Sahib came to England to claim her, she -went to London to visit Mona, and to order her outfit. -</p> - -<p> -"I am just choosing my own things in my few spare -hours," Mona said, the day after her friend's arrival, "so we -can go shopping together." -</p> - -<p> -They were sitting at afternoon tea, and Lucy had run in -to borrow a book. -</p> - -<p> -"You don't mean to say," Doris said, in great surprise, -"that you are having a trousseau? When one is going to -India, of course one requires things; but at home—it is a -barbarous idea." -</p> - -<p> -"Dear Doris," Mona said, "what do you suppose I am -marrying for?" -</p> - -<p> -"Miss Colquhoun does not understand," said Lucy. "A -<i>Trousseau</i> is a thing no medical practitioner can be without. -See, there it stands in five goodly volumes on the second -shelf,—particularly valuable on the subject of epilepsy." -</p> - -<p> -"Lucy, do talk sense," said Mona, laughing. -</p> - -<p> -"I appeal to any unbiassed listener to say whether I am -not the only person present who is talking sense. But -seriously, Miss Colquhoun, I wish I had a rich and adoring uncle. -To have a trousseau like Mona's I would marry the devil!" -</p> - -<p> -She set down her cup and ran away, before either of them -could enter a protest. -</p> - -<p> -"Will she ever really be a doctor?" Doris asked doubtfully. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh yes, indeed. Your presence seems to rouse a spirit -of mischief within her, but you have no idea how she has -developed. She will make a much better doctor than I shall. -She would have been on the Register now but for her illness; -as it is, she goes in with Ralph and me in October." -</p> - -<p> -"Are you going to get another medal?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, no," Mona said gravely. "I only aim at a pass, -and I think I am pretty sure of that. There are fewer -pitfalls than there were in the Intermediate for my mighty -scientific mind. But we can talk of that another time. I -want to hear about some one else now. Does your father -really consent to your going to India?" -</p> - -<p> -"Dear old Dad!" said Doris, smiling. "He is coming -with us. He has not had a long holiday for years, and -everybody goes to India now-a-days. When he comes back, -I expect one of my aunts will keep house for him." -</p> - -<p> -"He will miss you sadly; but I am very glad the Fates -are smiling so brightly on the dear old Sahib." -</p> - -<p> -Doris's face flushed. "Do you know, Mona," she said, -"it is a dream of mine that I may be of some use in India. -Knowing you so well, I shall be a sort of link between the -cause here and the cause there; and I may be able in a -small way to bring the supply into relation with the demand. -If only I were going out as a qualified practitioner!" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, Doris, Doris! don't you see that an enthusiast who -has no connection with the movement, and who happens to -be the wife of the Deputy-Commissioner, will be able to do -far more than an average doctor?" -</p> - -<p> -"Especially when the Deputy-Commissioner is as much -of an enthusiast as his wife," Doris answered with a very -pretty blush. -</p> - -<p> -"And I think it is worth living for to be able to show that -a woman can be an enthusiast and a reformer, and at the -same time a help meet for her husband." -</p> - -<p> -Mona watched her friend rather anxiously as she said this, -but Doris answered quite simply, "How often I shall long -for you to talk to! The Sahib, as you call him, says that -most of the women he meets out there have gone off on a -wrong line, and want a little judicious backing before one can -safely preach advancement to them; but it seems to me that -the great majority of women only need to have things put -before them in their true light. Don't you think so?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know, dear," Mona said thoughtfully. "I am -afraid I never try to influence my sex. I live a frightfully -irresponsible life. Let me give you another cup of tea?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, thank you. I shall have to drink a cup with my -aunt, if I go to pay my respects to her. In fact, I ought to -be there now." -</p> - -<p> -She hurried away, and Mona was left alone. She did not -rise from her chair, and half an hour later she was roused -from a deep reverie by a well-known knock at the door. -</p> - -<p> -"Come in!" she cried. "Oh Ralph, how delightful! -Let me make you some fresh tea." -</p> - -<p> -"No, thank you, my queen. It was my day out, and I -could not settle to work till I had had a glimpse of you." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't need to confess that I have been doing nothing," -she said, holding out her empty hands. "The fact is, I am -horribly depressed." -</p> - -<p> -"Having a reaction?" -</p> - -<p> -"I should think I was—a prussian-blue reaction, as Lucy -would say." -</p> - -<p> -"Examination fever?" -</p> - -<p> -"Far worse than that. You see, dear, it's a great -responsibility to become a registered practitioner, and it's a great -responsibility to be married; and the thought of undertaking -the two responsibilities at once is simply appalling." -</p> - -<p> -"But we are going away for a good holiday in the first -instance; and even when we come back, brilliant as we both are, -I don't suppose we shall burst into busy practice all at once." -</p> - -<p> -"I am not afraid of feeling pulses and taking temperatures," -said Mona gravely, "nor even of putting your slippers -to the fire. The thought that appals me is, that one must -hold one's self up and look wise, and have an opinion about -everything. No more glorious Bohemian irresponsibility: no -more airy—'Bother women's rights!' One must have a -hand to show, and show it. Ralph, do sit down!—No, on -the other side of the fire—and let us discuss the Franchise." -</p> - -<p> -"With all my heart. Shall we toss for sides?" -</p> - -<p> -"If you like. I went once to a Women's Suffrage -conversazione, and—well, I left without signing a petition. -But the next day I heard two young women discussing it, -chin in air. -</p> - -<p> -"'I am interested in no cause,' said one, 'that excludes -the half of humanity.' -</p> - -<p> -"'As long as I live,' said the other, 'I prefer that men -should open the door for me when I leave a room, or shut -the window when I feel a draught.' -</p> - -<p> -"I said nothing, but I put on my hat and set out to sign -the petition." -</p> - -<p> -"And did you do it?" -</p> - -<p> -"Sagely asked! No, I did not. I reflected that I had a -student's inherent right to be undecided; but that suit is -played out now. Seriously, dear, it seems to me sometimes -in my ignorance as if we women had gone half-way across -a yawning chasm on a slender bridge. The farther shore, as -we see it now, is not all that our fancy pictured; but it still -seems on the whole more attractive than the one we have -left behind. <i>Que faire?</i> We know that in life there is no -going back; nor can we stand on the bridge for ever. I -could not even advise, if I were asked. My attitude of mind -on the subject would be best represented by one great point -of interrogation. Only the future can show how the woman -question is going to turn out, and in the meantime the -making of the future lies in our own hands. There is a -situation for you!" -</p> - -<p> -She had opened the subject half in jest, but now her face -wore the expression of intense earnestness, which in Dudley's -eyes was one of her greatest charms. It interested him -profoundly to watch the workings of her mind, and to see her -opinions in the making. Perhaps it interested him the -more, because it was the only form of intimacy she allowed. -</p> - -<p> -"You must bear in mind," he said, "that every cause has -to go through its hobbledehoy stage. The vocal cords give -out dissonant sounds enough, when they are in the act of -lengthening out to make broader vibrations; but we would -not on that account have men speak all their lives in the -shrill treble of boyhood." -</p> - -<p> -"True," said Mona, "true;" and she smiled across at him. -</p> - -<p> -Presently she sighed, and clasped her hands behind her -head. "It must be a grand thing to lead a forlorn hope, -Ralph," she said. "It must be so easy to say, 'Here I -stand,' if one feels indeed that one cannot do otherwise. -It would be a terrible thing for the leaders of any movement -to lose faith in the middle of the bridge, and, if we -cannot strengthen their hands, we are bound at least not to -weaken them. A negative office, no doubt, and more liable -than any partisanship to persecution; but, fortunately, -here as everywhere, there is the duty next to hand. If -we try to make the girls over whom we have any influence -stronger and sweeter and sounder, we cannot at least be -retarding the cause of women." -</p> - -<p> -"Scarcely," said Ralph with a peculiar smile. "So, to -return to the point we started from, we are not called upon -to show our hand, after all." -</p> - -<p> -Mona laughed. "In other words, don't let us take stock -of our conclusions, Ralph," she said, "for that is intellectual -death." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap62"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER LXII. -<br /><br /> -IN ARCADIA. -</h3> - -<p> -It was a December afternoon. The sun shone down from -a cloudless sky on the olive-woods of Bordighera, and Ralph -lay stretched on a mossy terrace, looking up at the foliage -overhead. It filled him with keen delight, that wonderful -green canopy, shading here, as it did, into softest grey, -glowing there into gold, or sparkling into diamonds. The -air was soft and fragrant, and, away beyond the little town, -he felt, though he could not see, the blue stretch of the -Mediterranean. It seemed to him as though the stormy -river of his life had merged into an ocean of infinite -content. For the moment, ambition and struggle were dead -within him, and he looked neither behind nor before. -</p> - -<p> -The crackling of a dry twig made him turn round. -</p> - -<p> -"Come along, sweetheart," he said; "I have been lazily -listening for your step for the last half-hour." -</p> - -<p> -"Then you began to listen far too soon," she said, seating -herself beside him, and putting her hand in his. "But I -am a few minutes late. The post came in just as I was -starting." -</p> - -<p> -"No letters, I hope?" -</p> - -<p> -"Two for me—from Doris and Auntie Bell. I suppose -you don't care to read them?" -</p> - -<p> -He shook his head. "Not if you will boil them down -for me." -</p> - -<p> -"They had a delightful passage, and seem to be as happy -as two human beings can be." -</p> - -<p> -"Nay, that we know is impossible." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, <i>nearly</i> as happy, let us say. Doris found my -letter awaiting her at Bombay,—not the one that told of -your 'Double First'; but she was delighted to hear that -we had all passed. She did not in the least believe that -Lucy would." -</p> - -<p> -"Trust Miss Reynolds not to fail! One would as soon -expect her to do brilliantly." -</p> - -<p> -"Doris says I am not to forget to tell her whether -Maggie's soups and sauces satisfy my lord and master." -</p> - -<p> -He laughed. "I seem to recognise Miss Colquhoun in -that last expression. What does Auntie Bell say?" -</p> - -<p> -"She would dearly like to come and visit us in London; -but her husband seems to be breaking up, and she has -everything to superintend on the farm; so she 'maun e'en pit -her mind past it, in the meantime.' You will be interested -to hear that Matilda Cookson has carried her point. She -goes up for her Preliminary Examination in July; and, if -she passes, she is to join the Edinburgh School in October." -</p> - -<p> -"You are a wonderful woman." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, by the way, Ralph, they are having an impromptu -dance at the hotel to-night." -</p> - -<p> -His face clouded. "Do you like dancing?" he asked. -</p> - -<p> -"Very much indeed. Why don't you claim me for the -first waltz?" -</p> - -<p> -"Because I can't dance a little bit. You would lose every -atom of respect you have for the creature, if you saw him -being 'led through a quadrille,' as they call it." -</p> - -<p> -"Would I? <i>Try me!</i>" -</p> - -<p> -What a wonderful face it was, when she let it say all that -it would! Ralph took it very tenderly between his hands, -and greedily drank in its love and loyalty. Then he turned -away. How he loathed the thought of this dance! There -were one or two men in the house whom Mona had met -repeatedly in London, and the thought of her dancing with -them gave him positive torture. -</p> - -<p> -"Come, friend!" he said to himself roughly. "We are -not going to enact the part of the jealous husband at this -time of day;" but when he entered the salon that evening, -some time after the dance had begun, and morbidly noted -the impression made by Mona's appearance there, he would -gladly have given two years of his life to be able to waltz. -</p> - -<p> -Of course he must look as if he enjoyed it, so he moved -away, and spoke to an acquaintance; but above all the -chatter, above the noise of the music, he could hear the -words— -</p> - -<p> -"May I have the honour of this waltz, Mrs Dudley?" -</p> - -<p> -Very clearly, too, came Mona's reply. -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you very much, but I only waltz with my -husband. May I introduce you to Miss Rogers?" -</p> - -<p> -A few minutes later Dudley turned to where his wife was -sitting near the door,—his eyes dim with the expression a -man's face wears when he is absolutely at the mercy of a -woman. He could not bear the publicity of the ball-room, -and he held out his arm to her without a word. Mona took -it in silence. He wrapped a fleecy white shawl about her, -and they walked out into the cool, quiet starlight. -</p> - -<p> -"You do like this better than that heat and glare and -noise?" he asked eagerly. -</p> - -<p> -"That depends on my company. I would rather be there -with you than here alone." -</p> - -<p> -"Mona, is it really true,—what you said to that man?" -</p> - -<p> -"That I only waltz with my husband? Oh, you silly old -boy! Do you really think any other man has put his arm -round me since you put yours that night in the dog-cart? -Did not you know that you were teaching me what it all -meant?" -</p> - -<p> -He put it round her now, roughly, passionately. His -next words were laughable, as words spoken in the intensity -of feeling so often are. -</p> - -<p> -"Sweetheart," he said, "I am so sorry I cannot dance. I -will try to learn when we go back to town." -</p> - -<p> -Mona laughed softly, and raised his hand to her lips. -</p> - -<p> -"That is as you please," she said. "Personally I think -your wife is getting too old for that kind of frivolity. Of -course she is glad of any excuse for having your arm round -her." -</p> - -<p> -"It is a taste that is likely to be abundantly gratified," -he said quietly. "Are you cold? Shall we go back to the -hotel?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, let us go to our own quiet sitting-room. And, -please, be quite sure, Ralph, that I don't care for dancing -one bit. I used to, when I was a girl, and I did think I -should love to have a waltz with you: but, as you say, this -is a thousand times better." -</p> - -<p> -They walked back to the house in silence. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, Mona, my very own love," he said, throwing a great -knot of olive-wood on to the blazing fire, "what muddlers -those women are who <i>obey</i> their husbands!" -</p> - -<p> -Mona did not answer immediately. She seated herself on -the white rug at his feet, and took his hands in hers. -</p> - -<p> -"Obedience comes very easy when one loves," she said at -last,—"dangerously easy. I never realised it before. But -passion dies, they tell us, and the tradition of obedience -lives and chafes; and then the flood-gates of all the miseries -are opened. Don't ever let me obey you, Ralph!" -</p> - -<p> -"My queen!" he said. "Do you think I would blot out -all the exquisite nuances of your tact and intuition with a -flat, level wash of brute obedience? God help me! I am -not such a blind bungler as that. Don't talk of passion -dying, Mona. I don't know what it is I feel for you. I think -it is every beautiful feeling of which my soul is capable. -It cannot die." -</p> - -<p> -"Ralph," said Mona, "man of the world, do I need to tell -you that we must not treat our love in spendthrift fashion, -like a mere boy and girl? Love is a weed. It springs up -in our gardens of its own accord. We trample on it; but it -flourishes all the more. We cut it down, mangle it, root it -up; but it seems to be immortal. Nothing can kill it. Then -at last we say, 'You are no weed; you are beautiful. Grow -there, and my soul shall delight in you.' But from that hour -the plant must be left to grow at random no more. If it is, -it will slowly and gradually droop and wither. We must -tend it, water it, guard with the utmost care its exquisite -bloom; and then——" -</p> - -<p> -"And then?" -</p> - -<p> -"And then it will attain the perfectness and the -proportions that were only suggested in the weed, and it will live -for ever and ever." -</p> - -<p> -"Amen!" said Ralph fervently. "Mona, how is it you -know so much? Who taught you all this about love?" -</p> - -<p> -She smiled. "I had some time to think about it after -that night at Barntoun Wood. And I think my friends -have very often made me their confidante. It is so easy to -see where other people fail!" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap63"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER LXIII. -<br /><br /> -"VARIUM ET MUTABILE." -</h3> - -<p> -"You escaped us last night, Mrs Dudley," said one of her -acquaintances next morning. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes. I wanted to watch the dancing; but the salon gets -so warm in the evening, I could not stand it. We went for -a stroll instead." -</p> - -<p> -"Neither of you gives us too much of your company, -certainly. I am anxious to hear your husband's opinion of a -leader in this morning's <i>Times</i>." -</p> - -<p> -"Here he comes, then," said Mona, as Ralph appeared -with a rug over his arm. "Captain Bruce wants to speak -to you, dear. You will know where to find me by-and-bye." -</p> - -<p> -She strolled on into the woods, and ensconced herself -comfortably on a gnarled old trunk, to wait for her husband. It -was not many minutes before he joined her. -</p> - -<p> -"That's right!" he said, throwing himself on the grass at -her feet, with a long sigh of content. "How you spoil one, -dear, for other people's conversation!" -</p> - -<p> -"I have not had a very alarming competitor this morning," -she said, smiling. -</p> - -<p> -"No; but if he had been an archangel, it would have made -little difference. Go on, lady mine, talk to me—talk to me -'at lairge.' I want to hear your views about everything. -Is not it delightful that we know each other so little?" -</p> - -<p> -Mona laughed softly and then grew very grave. -</p> - -<p> -"I hope you will say twenty years hence, 'How delightful -it is that we know each other so well!'" -</p> - -<p> -"I will say it now with all my heart! But it is very -interesting to live when every little event of life, every -picture one sees, every book one reads, has all the excitement -of a lottery, till I hear your opinion of it." -</p> - -<p> -Mona passed her hand through his hair. "Then I hope you -will still say twenty years hence, 'How delightful it is that -we know each other so little!'" -</p> - -<p> -"I think there is little doubt of that. My conception of -you is like a Gothic cathedral: its very beauty lies in the -fact that one is always adding to it, but it is never finished. -Or, shall I say of you what Kuenen says of Christianity?—'She -is the most mutable of all things; that is her special -glory.'" -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Varium et mutabile</i> in fact! It is a pretty compliment, -but I seem to have heard it before." -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Varium et mutabile semper femina,</i>" he repeated, smiling. -</p> - -<p> -"A higher compliment was never paid to your sex. <i>Varium -et mutabile</i>—like the sea! I never know whom I shall find -when I meet you,—the high-souled philosopher, the earnest -student, the brilliant woman of the world, the tender mother-soul, -the frivolous girl, or the lovable child. I don't know -which of them charms me most. And when I want something -more than any of those, before I have time to call -her, there she is,—my wife, 'strong and tender and true as -steel.'" -</p> - -<p> -Mona did not answer. Her turn would come another time. -They knew each other too well to barter compliments like -goods and coin across a counter. -</p> - -<p> -"I thought you were going to talk to me," he said presently. -"Let us talk about the things that can never be put -into words. Imagine I am Gretchen, sitting at your feet. -'<i>Glaubat du an Gott?</i>'" -</p> - -<p> -Mona smiled down on the upturned face. -</p> - -<p> -"If Gretchen asked me, I hope the Good Spirit would give -me words. If my husband asked me——" -</p> - -<p> -"He does. '<i>Glaubst du an Gott?</i>'" -</p> - -<p> -Mona did not answer at once. She looked round at the -silent eloquent world of olive-trees, with their grand writhing -Laocoon-like stems, and their constant, ever-varying crown -of leaves—those trees that seem to have watched the whole -history of man, and that sum up in themselves all the mystery -of his life, from the love of pleasure in the midst of pain, -to the worship of sorrow in a world of beauty—— -</p> - -<p> -"Ralph," she said, "when you ask me I cannot tell; but -I worship Him every moment of my life!" -</p> - -<p> -She smiled. "You have surprised me out of my creed, -and you see it is not a creed at all." -</p> - -<p> -"Be thankful for that! It seems to me that the intensest -moment in the life of a belief is when it is just on the eve of -crystallising into a creed. Don't hurry it." -</p> - -<p> -"No, I am content to wait. When I go to church, I always -feel inclined to invert the words of the prayer, and say, -'Granting us in this world life everlasting, and, in the world -to come, knowledge of Thy truth.'" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap64"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER LXIV. -<br /><br /> -PARTNERS. -</h3> - -<p> -December still, but what a change! Without—bitter cold -and driving rain; within—bright fires and welcoming faces -and a home. -</p> - -<p> -They had returned from the Continent a few hours before, -had tested Maggie's "soups and sauces," had discussed ways -and means by the fire in Mona's consulting-room; and now -Ralph had gone through the curtained door into his own -room adjoining, to look at his letters. -</p> - -<p> -"I shall only be gone ten minutes," he had said, "if you -invite me back. Nobody is likely to call on a night like this, -even in 'blessed Bloomsbury.'" -</p> - -<p> -Sir Douglas had begged them to settle in Harley Street, -but both Ralph and Mona were far too enthusiastic to forego -the early days of night-work, and of practice among the -poor. -</p> - -<p> -Ralph had scarcely finished reading his first letter when a -patient was announced, and a moment later a young girl -entered the room with a shrinking, uncertain step. Her hair -was wet with the rain, and her white face expressionless, save -for its misery. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you wish to consult me?" he said. "Sit down. -What can I do for you?" -</p> - -<p> -She looked at him for a moment, and tried to speak, but -her full lips quivered, and she burst into hysterical tears. -</p> - -<p> -His practised eye ran over her figure half unconsciously. -</p> - -<p> -"I think," he said kindly, "you would rather see the -doctor who shares my practice," and he rose, and opened the -door. -</p> - -<p> -Mona looked up smiling. -</p> - -<p> -She was sitting alone in the firelight, and his heart glowed -within him as he contrasted her bright, strong, womanly face -with—that other. -</p> - -<p> -"Mona, dear," he said quietly, "here is a case for <i>you</i>." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t4"> -PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MONA MACLEAN ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -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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