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II



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ARVARD COLLEGE LIBRARY
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WITH INCOME FROM THE
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THE BERYL STONES


By the same Author
THE THOUSAND EUGENIAS
CYNTHIA'S WAY
THE INNER SHRINE
THE GRASSHOPPERS
A WOMAN WITH A FUTURE
COUSIN IVO
MRS. FINCH-BRASSEY
LESSER'S DAUGHTER
A SPLENDID COUSIN
ISAAC ELLER'S MONEY


THE BERYL STONES
BY
MRS. (ALFRED SIDGWICK, -. ..
.in
AV
'Αδικεί μεν ουν άδικος δ' ουκ έστιν
οίον ουδέ κλέπτης έκλεψε δε
ARISTOTLE
NEW YORK
LONGMANS, GREEN & CO.
91-93 FIFTH AVENUE
1903


PZ 6365,7
HARVARD
UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY
MAR 5 1841


THE BERYL STONES
CHAPTER I
The doctor had just gone, and Ursula French still
sat where he had left her, near a hearth with no fire
in it. There was a fire in the kitchen and a fire in
her father's room, and Ursula knew that when the
present supply of coal was done, she would have no
money to buy more. But at that moment she was
not thinking of coal, and she took no count of the
chilly air. She was thinking of her father, and of
what the doctor had said about him. Mr. French
was very ill. He had been more or less ill for years,
and in the folly of her youth she had taken his
condition for granted, had never troubled much
about it, had never looked forward to this hour, in
which, for the first time, she stood at bay against
death. The doctor's visit had been short and
business-like, but he had left despair behind. Drugs
were of no use, he said. It was a case for careful
nursing and a nourishing diet. He had mentioned
good brandy. “He might just as well have men-
tioned melted pearls,' thought Ursula ; 'I could


THE BERYL STONES
get them about as easily,' for she knew that they
were near the end of their resources.
Her father was an amiable and honest gentleman,
but, speaking from the usual point of view, he had
not made a success of life. Although his private
fortune was quite small, he had gone into journalism
when he might have gone into cotton, and then in
middle age he married a girl without a penny, a
young actress, who bore him a son and a daughter,
and died before the children were out of the nursery.
Mr. French was not the man to make the best of
the harassing circumstances in which his wife's
death placed him. He was unpractical, and he
was unlucky, for just when his expenses increased
his health broke down, and he had to give up the
only work open to him. He retired with his young
children to a small country cottage, and tried to live
on his income of ninety pounds. But year by year
the capital and the income from it had grown
smaller. He meant to be careful with money, but
the feat of living on ninety pounds a year was beyond
him. While the children were young he kept a
nurse for them, as well as a maid-of-all-work. The
housekeeping was more or less done in the kitchen,
and, of course, extravagantly done ; every quarter
Mr. French had to sell a little stock to meet pressing
claims on him, every year the dividends accruing
were less. Last year they had hardly paid the rent
of the cottage. At the beginning of the present
year he still owned eighty pounds. Towards the
end of it he owed more than he possessed. Ursula
had taken her mother's place as well as she could ;


THE BERYL STONES
'The doctor has been,' said Ursula.
The boy put down his berries and limped across
the room to his sister. He was the younger of the
two, and he had always been delicate and, as far as
possible, petted. Both Ursula and he had wits, but
wits without chance or training are not of much
practical use in early life. Besides, there are poor
devils in the world who have wits they can never
turn into money. People call them poets and
philosophers, and would rather not have them in
the family. He did not know it yet, but the real
bent of Thomas's mind was literary, and there
is no doubt that at his birth the fairies had been
out of temper. Even in this vale of tears a man is
not often thrice handicapped, as Thomas was, by
his lame leg, his want of means, and his turn for
literature. He had wise, dreamy eyes and a frail
body, and his tall sister could carry him.
'He says father wants good food and brandy,'
continued Ursula. 'I am to keep his fire in day
and night. The coal won't hold out another week,
and it is not paid for. The last bit of stock was sold
out in October. There was twenty-five pounds. I
have five pounds left.'
'Does dad worry much ?' asked Thomas.
Yes, he worries. He lies there ... oh, Thomas,
we can't let him go to the workhouse infirmary ...
it would break his heart ... his eyes follow me as
I move about the room . . . he would be amongst
strangers ... isn't there anything we can sell
or do ?'
Five pounds is better than nothing,' said Thomas,


THE BERYL STONES
'But we owe about twenty, and the tradespeople
are uncivil. They would rather not serve us. Most
of the five pounds will have to go for coal and taxes
and Susan's wages, and I don't see how we can eat
less.'
'We ought to send Susan away,' said Thomas.
“I'm sure I could cook. It only needs attention.'
'Then I'm sure you'd make a mess of it,' said
his sister. "You know your attention always
wanders, Thomas, except when it's fixed on some-
thing useless.
We ought to be earning money,' said Thomas
uneasily ; 'at least, I ought.'
' I'm the able-bodied one,' said Ursula, and she
got up and began to walk up and down the room.
She was unusually tall and absurdly thin, but there
was grace and energy in her movements. She was
as pale and dark-haired as her brother, but her eyes,
like her temper, were more changeable than his.
“We are in a trap,' she said: 'we must get ourselves
out. I would do anything to get out. I would run
amok if it would do dad any good. I would sell
myself if anybody wanted to buy me. If I knew
any horrid old hunchbacked millionaire I'd get him
to marry me. Girls have done it over and over
again, and quite right too!'
I'm not sure of that,' objected Thomas.
What does one's self matter ... anyhow ...
when it comes to life or death . . . what does one
care ? I would do anything ... anything ...
to get money for dad.'
'The question is, What can we do ?'.


6
THE BERYL STONES
We ought both to have learnt a trade. We
have just gone on ... and here we are . . . and
I am eighteen . . . and you are sixteen . . . and
the trap-door is down.'
* There is always Aunt Joanna,' said Thomas.
"There is never Aunt Joanna !' said Ursula fiercely.
Her brother did not dispute her amendment. He
said something about the cold, and limped into the
kitchen. Ursula followed him.
What is there for dinner ?' asked the boy. There
was a smell of cooking, and Susan was busy over
the fire.
'Pea-soup,' said Ursula. “I hope you don't mind
it two days running.'
'I don't mind it if it's not burnt,' said Thomas
audibly.
'I wish to give you immediate notice, miss,' said
Susan, turning suddenly round from the fire. “I
give it to the master this morning, and told him why,
but he didn't seem put out, so I don't think he can
have understood . . . poor gentleman !
'How dare you try to put him out!' cried Ursula,
flaring up at once, for Susan and she were old
enemies.
'Because it was my business to do so, with people
in the kitchen at all hours asking questions about
bones and dripping, and wanting me at my time of
life to cook things out of one of them ’alfpenny
papers. And what's more, I can't and won't put
up with pea-soup three times a week. Give me a
wholesome joint to cut at, and you won't hear no
complaints. I've accepted a situation with the


THE BERYL STONES
7
Rudgeleys. There are four in the kitchen there,
and Mrs. Rudgeley is a very good housekeeper.
Plaice for breakfast in the dining-room, plaice for
breakfast in the kitchen, is her rule, I'm told, and the
coachman comes in for all his meals, and keeps them
up to the mark. I've been here a long time, and I
did mean to oblige you till the poor master goes—
which everyone says won't be long—but when you
and Mr. Thomas took to sitting in the kitchen, I
walked up to Rudgeley's, and I said to the lady—
'Never mind what you said,' interrupted Ursula ;
'you can go to-morrow if you like, Susan ... the
sooner the better.'
'That's just what Mrs. Rudgeley said . . . the
sooner the better,' replied Susan. Then I will go
to-morrow, miss, and I hope you won't live to repent
it.,
Ursula and Thomas went back to the sitting-
room, and Ursula set a match to the fire.
We shall never need it again,' she said, ' and I
can't afford to get a bad chill.'
Thomas watched the blaze dejectedly. The
prospect of Susan's departure scared him. He
thought he could foresee Ursula's methods. She
would sometimes sweep through the house like a
whirlwind, and sometimes forget the house and the
people inside it. She could remember the great
scenes in Shakespeare line upon line, but she could
neither cook nor clean. And the prolongation of
their father's life depended on food and nursing—and
what stared them all in the face when the last five-
pound note was gone ?


THE BERYL STONES
'What I want is courage,' said Ursula."
• What to do ?' said Thomas.
His sister was kneeling in front of the fire, and,
still holding her hands to the blaze, she turned her
long neck and looked at him anxiously.
'Thomas,' she said, 'would you mind answering
a question truthfully and from a business-like
point of view ?
'If the two things can be brought together I will.'
' Thomas, am I exceedingly beautiful, or as ugly
as sin ?'
Why should you be either one or the other ?
Most people are somewhere in between.'
'I'm not. I'm an exaggeration ... at one end
of the scale or the other.'
Have you ever looked at yourself in a long
glass ?'
Sometimes . . . at Aunt Joanna's.'
Well . . . I'm no judge.'
‘Don't wrap it up.'
'Beauty is a question of taste.'
Prettiness may be. The civilized world agrees
about beauty.'
* Then what does it say about you ?
"I never heard its voice, unless Aunt Joanna
represents the civilized world. I once heard her
tell Grace I was as scraggy as a hop-pole.'
'You are rather thin,' said Thomas; and then he
thought he had said all there was to say about a
matter of no interest or importance. He opened a
book, and Ursula nursed the fire until her father's
dinner came in and she carried it upstairs. She


CHAPTER II
URSULA's sudden concern about her looks had a
motive. She did not know a horrid hunchbacked
millionaire, but she knew Mr. Crampton Lowe. He
was not a hunchback; he was, perhaps, hardly a
millionaire. He was rather horrid, she thought.
He lived with his father and stepmother in a new
red house called Clarion Towers. The father had
built the house, and the stepmother had christened
it. The father had made his money abroad—no one
knew exactly where—and he still went to the city
twice a week to do no one knew exactly what. His
second wife was an English colonial. The father
had a foreign profile, which his son had inherited.
They were ready with their subscriptions, and Mrs.
Lowe went to church on Sunday mornings, and wore
flamboyant clothes. Ursula had met the family at
Boyes Court, her Aunt Joanna's house, and won-
dered what they did there. They certainly looked
like fish out of water. But they had taken some
notice of Ursula, who, for different reasons, felt like a
fish out of water herself amongst fine folk, and they
had asked her to go and see them at Clarion Towers.
An invitation of this kind presented difficulties, and
[ 10 ]


THE BERYL STONES
II
Ursula had never yet availed herself of it. But
meanwhile she sometimes met the son walking from
Linham Station across the common, and first he
bowed, and then he stopped to talk, and lately he
had taken to walk beside her whichever way she
was going. He apologized for being on his feet,
but explained that all the fashionable doctors
recommended walking now, so he supposed there
must be something in it.
Ursula did not take to the young man kindly.
When she compared him with her father he would
not do, and when she compared him with the
young men she knew best-Ferdinand and Benedict
and Romeo—then he would not do either. She
could not place him at all. He seemed to have
none of the traditions dear to Thomas and to her,
and none of the beliefs or hopes. She thought he
must have been born old, and with a view to the
main chance. There was no doubt that in some
directions he was clever, but he did not seem clever
enough to discover his own shortcomings and try
to mend them. In the company of others she had
seen him forward and boastful, and when she met
him without companions he was inclined to be over-
friendly. He was a slightly-made man, sandy-
haired, and colourless. He had a curious die-away
smile and pale blue eyes. You could imagine him
handing you the menu in a London restaurant, or
saying, 'This way for mantles, madam,' in a London
shop. But Fortune had given her wheel a turn for
Mr. Lowe, and when Ursula made his acquaintance
he was living at Clarion Towers with apparently


I2
THE BERYL STONES
nothing to do but to spend the money his father
had made. Of course, he was always dressed in the
height of fashion, and had everything about him
rather absurdly handsome and proper. Ursula used
to wonder he could bear to walk beside her shabby
clothes. But the cottage in which she lived was
one of a straggling group set in the midst of a great
common, and there was not much fear of meeting
anyone close to her home except cottagers. She
had never met him by appointment, and unless she
had stayed indoors all day she could hardly have
avoided him. He said he liked Gorse Common.
Although Ursula did not very much like Mr. Lowe,
she had hitherto not tried to elude him, because
whenever they met he talked theatrical shop to her,
and she would have walked round the common with
a sweep for the sake of talking theatrical shop. She
had never been inside a theatre, but she had read,
and knew more or less by heart every play she could
lay hands on, and she had garnered in her memory
all the facts she could glean from her mother's talk
long ago, and from some odd volumes of stage
reminiscences, and from the scanty supply of news-
papers that came to the cottage. Everything con-
nected with the theatrical life interested her, and
when Mr. Lowe discovered this he knew how to
shape his conversation. He was a playgoer, and
had seen all the great living actors and actresses,
and Ursula recognised in him what she missed in
people she liked better—a quick instinct for the
excellent in art. She could not believe that Mr.
Lowe had one thought or impulse in common with


THE BERYL STONES
13
Hamlet, but he had seen all the famous Hamlets of
his time, and could discourse of them intelligently.
He was a mixture Ursula did not profess to under-
stand.
'I would rather be a great actress than anything
else in the world,' she said to him one day.
'If you are really great there is money in it,' he
replied.
Money! I was not thinking of money.'
Oh, women like glory, don't they? I never
know why. It means enemies and begging-letters.
A comfortable obscurity is good enough for me.
Of course, my standard of comfort is high.
‘But I was not thinking of the glory, either. I
was thinking ... it is difficult to express . ;. but
don't you want to do something well . . . to spend
your life trying to do it ... of course you would
never feel satisfied.
'I know what you mean,' said Mr. Lowe. 'A
man who has one million tries for two. I'm a bit
that way myself. So is my father. I always hope
he won't come a cropper.'
Ursula was puzzled again. In a sense she was
always thinking of money, because she had insuffi-
cient even for the necessaries of life, but she hated
the prominence it had assumed in her mind. The
desire of it was squalid compared with other desires
that possessed her. Money only began to shine in
her fancy when her father's life was seen to hang on
it. Then from morning till night she cast about for
ways and means, and she thought of Andromeda
who was to wed the monster, and of Beauty who did


14
THE BERYL STONES
wed the Beast, and of sad Pompilia, and of other
young women who for various reasons had accepted
husbands they would have fled from if they could.
It only took a few hours of retrospect and internal
argument to convince Ursula that half the girls born
since the world began had been mated by force or
by necessity with men they detested. It was a
sorry fate, but not sorrier, perhaps, than the world's
heroes have endured for faith, for country, for any
one of the great spiritual ideas that in all times have
moved men of all degrees. As she made up her
mind, she dwelt entirely on the spiritual side of it-
on her father's need, and on her own fierce wish to
help and comfort him. Perhaps she would be un-
happy! What if thou wert born and predestined
not to be happy, but to be unhappy! ... there is
in man a higher than love of happiness ; he can do
without happiness, and instead thereof find blessed-
ness.' So Thomas had read to her the other day
from one of the books he loved, and the sense of the
words came back to her as she dressed to go out on
the common, and she felt uplifted as she walked
briskly across it—uplifted by her own intentions,
and by the air, and by the lights of the winter
afternoon.
It took Ursula two hours to reach Clarion Towers,
where she had decided to pay her long-deferred call,
and by that time her feet were wet and the lights
had gone from the sky. But she plodded on, and
hoped that Mrs. Lowe would be at home, and would
give her tea. When she got there the butler and
the footman stared at her doubtfully. It was half


THE BERYL STONES
15
dark, and they could not see her clearly, but they
could see that she was not 'smart'; and when they
said 'Not at home,' she did not offer them a card,
and turned away with an air of disappointment.
But as she did so, Mr. Crampton Lowe drove up in
his dog-cart, got out in a hurry, and persuaded her
to come into the house with him.
‘My mother will be back directly,' he said.
The footman, being young and raw, was just going
to explain that Mrs. Lowe had gone to town for the
day, and would not be back till midnight, but
fortunately the butler stopped him in time.
'He knows that as well as you, George,' he said,
with a flick of his fingers in Crampton's direction.
• Didn't he travel up with the old woman this morn-
ing ?
'Then what's 'e want to say she's coming back
dereckly for ?' inquired George.
'There you have me,' said the butler; but after a
meditative pause he added : 'If that young woman
was turned out by a Bond Street firm I shouldn't
mind looking at her.'
She's too thin for my taste,' said George. “Give
me Lizzy.' Then the morning-room bell rang, and
he had to answer it. He came back with an order
for tea.
Meanwhile Ursula sat by a blazing fire, and talked
and looked about her. There were signs of money
wherever she looked, and some signs of the taste
that Mr. Lowe showed when he talked of plays and
pictures. But there were lapses in the taste. The
room was lighted with a flare of gas ; amongst the


THE BERYL STONES
17
or you may have to put up with a stockbroker.
I'm speaking now from the usual point of view.
Personally, I should consider the stockbroker a
better bargain. Anyhow, what's the good of living
on a common, where you only see cottagers and
geese ? Besides, however pretty a girl is, she wants
clothes. Nowadays its half the battle to be smart.'
Ursula looked reflectively at her host. She could
not doubt that he considered himself smart, and of
course the tailors had done all they could for him.
But what struck her was that with some customers
the best of them could not do much. Probably
Mr. Lowe's collar was the correct shape, and his tie
the right colour, and his coat well cut, and yet she
could not imagine him the friend of her father or of
Thomas, who were never smart at all, but always
shabby.
' I'm afraid I'm tied to the common,' she said.
Nine times out of ten women make their own
shackles,' said Mr. Lowe. 'Suppose you walk to
Linham some day, and take a train up to town
... and stay there . . . who's to prevent you ?'
'I couldn't stay there by myself.'
"Oh, you'd find friends. I'd see to that,' said
Mr. Lowe.
"You are very kind, but-
Of course, you'd want money to start you.'
'That makes it impossible at once. I have no
money.'
But other people have.'
Ursula felt startled and rather touched. She
thought the young man wished to help her, and did


18
THE BERYL STONES
not like to say so outright. His eyes glanced aside,
and he spoke in a quick, furtive way, so that she
only just caught what he said.
"My father is very ill. I can't leave him at
present,' she explained.
'I should have thought you could assist him
better away ... with money ... than at home
without,' said Mr. Lowe.
'I have often thought so myself,' said Ursula ;
'but surely there is no chance of my making money
straight away ... unless I had quite exceptional
luck.'
'For anyone as beautiful as you luck is always
at hand,' said Mr. Lowe. 'It only wants picking up.'
Was this the modern ‘smart'equivalent, Ursula
wondered, for the love-making she knew best ?
· The very instant that I saw you did my heart fly
to your service . . . I, beyond all limit of what
else i' the world, do love, prize, honour you.
Of course it would not do to let anyone here
know,' continued Mr. Lowe; and as he spoke Ursula,
whose feet were wet and cold, noticed that she had
absently let one approach the fire, and that a big
patch on her boot had given way, and exhibited
a coarsely - darned stocking. She drew her foot
beneath her skirt again, but she felt sure that Mr.
Lowe had seen. His faint smile was not quite as
faint, and his manner, usually so limp, was growing
slightly eager.
"You would have to make up your mind to dis-
appear for a time, he went on to lie perdu, as it
were.'


THE BERYL STONES
19
"Why?' said Ursula.
Mr. Lowe took up a thin ivory paper-knife, and
played with the supple tip of it. He seemed un-
certain what to say next. His silence became
embarrassing, and as Ursula had been there some
time now, she put her cup down and got up.
'I'm afraid I mustn't wait any longer for your
mother,' she said. “It is dark, and I have a long
way home.'
He got up when she did, and she noticed that his
face was very white, whiter even than usual. She
began to think he was ill, and she was just going to
withdraw her proffered hand and speak again, when
he seized it, held it fast, drew her more closely to
him, and tried to kiss her. She struggled out of his
grasp, startled, disgusted, and still uncertain. Was
he on the verge of proposing marriage to her, and
could she accept him ? She had not forgotten that
kisses would be part of the bargain, but she had
not known how much easier it was to endure imag-
inary kisses than real ones. Besides, she felt sure
the proposal ought to come first.
'I couldn't help it,' he said—'upon my word I
couldn't. You don't know your own power yet.
You will before long. I'm lucky to be the first in
the field, but I was born under a lucky star. Well,
what do you say to my offer? Of course, it is made
on condition of secrecy. No one in this neighbour-
hood must couple our names together, if only for
your aunt's sake. I'm rather a favourite at Boyes
Court. We must tell a plausible tale about your
disappearance, and then-
22


20
THE BERYL STONES
Your offer,' interrupted Ursula in a low, puzzled
voice.
'It's a good one,' said Mr. Lowe. “There isn't
much I can't afford. I'd take a nice house for you,
and make you a handsome allowance, and if you
wanted a few hundred a year for your father you
shouldn't find I haggled. You should have your
chance on the stage, too, and it's my firm belief that
you'd make a splash ... with my money to help
you on. You're half-way up the ladder in any
profession if you have money at your back. Dress
well, and show yourself everywhere, and entertain
the right people, and there you are. That's London,
anyhow.'
Ursula looked at him as if she expected to see in
his face what she missed in his conversation—some
definite answerable allusion to their marriage.
'I don't understand why you want to keep the
thing secret,' she said. 'Of course, I should have
to consult my father, and surely you must speak to
your parents
She broke off. The expression in Mr. Lowe's
face, the slight shrug of his shoulders, were explana-
tory even to her unsuspecting mind.
I'm afraid you are slow of understanding,' he
said.
As he spoke her hand was on the door, and she
opened it. He followed her across the empty
hall.
* You needn't be in such a rage,' he observed.
'It's a free country. I should have done very well
by you, and if ever you change your mind


THE BERYL STONES
21
'Never dare to speak to me again !' cried Ursula ;
and then her wrath choked her, and she fled along
the snow-covered drive as if she feared he might
pursue her. But he had no such desire just then.
His brow was sullen as he went back into the
hall.


CHAPTER III
But it was her father's life that hung in the balance,
and she had cried at the top of her voice to Thomas
that she would give herself to save it; and here she
was running away through the snow so angry and
flurried that she forgot to feel afraid of the night and
the empty common. She thought of Isabella in
Measure for Measure,' and she thought of Falstaff,
who was a coward by instinct, and her conscience
did not tell her for certain which of the two she re-
sembled. It would have spoken in a clearer voice to
a girl with a wider knowledge of the world. But
Ursula still saw the great problems of conduct
through the mists of romance, bad or good as it
happened, but always abstract and poetical. It
seemed to her that she had gone out for sacrifice, and
had run away when she saw the knife.
There had been neither poetry nor passion in
Mr. Lowe's addresses. She had played in a squalid
scene, and got splashed by the mud. There were
lovers in the world, then, who did not woo like
Romeo, their purpose marriage. Her poverty held
a new terror, and when she was half-way across the
common the girl began to cry. The offence hurt.
[ 22 ]


THE BERYL STONES
23
She had not found a knight, or even a beast with the
soul of a knight. Her quest had failed, and the
memory of it was as dishonouring as a blow. She
walked on in such an inward ferment that she felt
neither hunger nor fatigue, and when it began to snow
again, the chill flakes were pleasant. They fell from
the sky. In the midst of the storm her pace slack-
ened; her spirit rode with the wind, and came back
to her comforted. When she got home, she was
white with snow; her eyes shone like stars, and
Thomas, looking up from his book, never noticed
that she had been crying.
Next day she was facing the future again, and she
made up her mind that the first thing to be done was
to see her Aunt Joanna. She hated the necessity.
Mr. French's only sister had been lucky enough to
marry money, and she lived with her husband and
a flourishing family in a fine house about two miles
east of Linham. Mr. French's cottage was two miles
west of the town, so he was separated by a consider-
able distance from Boyes Court. Nevertheless, his
choice of a neighbourhood had not pleased Mrs.
Hardwick. Her brother never had pleased her.
She disapproved of him when he turned his back on
cotton and chose a precarious profession ; she dis-
approved of his marriage, and she disapproved of his
children. She had advised her brother to settle in
Devonshire, where living is cheap. She did not
wish to break with him altogether, because family
breaks are indecorous, but she would have preferred
to communicate with him through the post. An
occasional polite letter does not tax the purse or vex


24
THE BERYL STONES
the soul, while personal intercourse with the failures
of the family may do both at any moment. How-
ever, Mr. French had not taken his sister's advice,
and a frigid intimacy existed between the two house-
holds. Mrs. Hardwick did not wish her well-drilled
children to see much of their cousins, who were
clever, affectionate, and unpractical, a blend of
qualities that seldom gets on in the world ; and
Ursula and Thomas would never go to Boyes Court
if they could help it, because they felt out of favour
there.
* Aunt Joanna has a splinter of the goblin's glass
in her eye when she looks at us,' said Ursula, after
reading “The Snow Queen.' "Whatever we say and
do is wrong. She has a different glass for the people
she likes. They are the pink of perfection. At
Boyes Court what you really are does not matter.
Aunt Joanna's glass is the thing.'
It was some time since Ursula had made this
remark, but as she entered Mr. Hardwick's park-
gates, it came into her mind with depressing effect.
She had looked tidy when she started, but at the end
of a four-mile walk she felt dishevelled. Her hair
had blown about her temples, a seam had given way
in her right-hand glove, and she had not been able
to get her boot mended. She began to wish she had
paid her visit in the morning, when there would have
been less risk of meeting strangers ; but it had taken
all the morning to dry her boots. She made up her
mind she would ask to see her aunt alone; but,
unfortunately, a carriage came sharply round the
corner of the drive and stopped at the door a


THE BERYL STONES
25
moment after she had rung, and the butler, paying
more attention to the new arrivals than to her, led
the whole party through the vestibule into the hall,
where about a dozen people were gathered for tea.
Escape was impossible ; Ursula had to shake hands
with her aunt and her two grown-up cousins, to
endure their slight air of surprise at her appearance,
and then to find a seat for herself as much out of
the light as possible.
Mrs. Hardwick was a large, stout person, who
wore ugly dresses made of rich materials. She never
took any exercise, and she suffered for the want of it
in body and brain. But if her limbs and her ideas
were flabby, her opinions were rigid. Thirty years
ago she had been what is called 'a fine young
woman,' and she had managed to marry Mr. Hard-
wick, who had five thousand a year and a fidgety
temper. He soon found, however, that he could not
fidget his wife. Her placid self-satisfaction sur-
vived all attacks, and what would have harassed
some women passed her by. Nature had endowed
her with a soft mental wrapping that corresponded
to her physical exuberance, and kept out trouble as
fat keeps out cold. She had neither imagination nor
sympathy, and she had found life a bed of roses.
She had never known what it is to want anything
she could not get, or to lose what she valued, or to
repent what she had done. When her husband was
in a fussy mood, she shut her eyes, as if he had been a
tedious sermon; and when her children were ill, she
summoned doctors and nurses, and knew that she
had performed her duty. But her children never


26
THE BERYL STONES
had been seriously ill. It was impossible to imagine
the storms of life entering the padded chambers of
Boyes Court, and Ursula used to wonder sometimes
whether, when Death himself stole in, he would
have the good manners to leave his terror behind
him.
Her grown-up cousins, Grace and Clara, were just
what you would expect them to be—rather hand-
some, well behaved, and passing dull. In the family
circle Grace's character was considered stronger than
her sister's, but Clara's eyes were a better colour.
If it had been decorous to discuss such subjects, the
family would have said that Clara was sure to marry
first, because any silly young man who saw the
sisters would think more of Clara's eyes than of
Grace's energy. But hitherto young men, silly and
otherwise, had shown a singular backwardness as
wooers. The two elder girls had recently inherited
money from a maiden aunt on their father's side.
In a modest way, they were heiresses. Neverthe-
less, there were twelve women in the hall this after-
noon, and only one man and a boy; and you can't
count the boy, because he was a son of the house, and
ate a whole plateful of jam sandwiches, when he
ought to have been entertaining his mother's guests.
Of course, young men are always scarce in an English
country neighbourhood, but, somehow, Boyes Court
did not attract the few there were at hand. Grace
and Clara never could understand why.
The one young man present this afternoon excited
no interest in Ursula at first. He had a clean-shaven
face of an even red all over, light eyes, light hair,


THE BERYL STONES
27
a good-humoured smile. The only remarkable
thing about him was his collar. Wherever Ursula
looked, it seemed to catch her eye.
For some time no one paid much attention to
Ursula ; in fact, she sat so that her aunt's large chair
and person almost hid her. She kept her defective
boot well beneath her frock, and she took off the
glove with a hole in it. But she could not take off
her hat and jacket, and Mr. Monkton wondered who
the very tall girl in the queer clothes could be. Mr.
Monkton lived in London. Mrs. Hardwick's neigh-
bours had seen Ursula before, and it was impossible
to see Ursula and forget her. “That odd, foreign-
looking girl, Mrs. Hardwick's niece,' they thought
to themselves, and they felt quite sorry for Mrs.
Hardwick. When they had had enough tea and
conversation, they got up to go, and in time only the
house-party was left in the hall. Then that scat-
tered, too, and the servants cleared away tea, and
Ursula was left with her aunt and Grace. She
wished Grace would go; but Miss Hardwick sat down
in the chimney-corner, and took up some knitting.
She was making a narrow red silk tie.
I suppose we may as well tell Ursula our news,'
she said.
'She has probably heard it,' said Mrs. Hardwick ;
'I find it has reached the servants' hall.'
'I didn't come by way of the servants' hall,' said
Ursula.
Her aunt looked rather offended. Mrs. Hard-
wick always took offence when her rude remarks
were noted and resented.


28
THE BERYL STONES
'Clara is engaged to be married to Mr. Monkton,'
said Grace.
"Oh ! cried Ursula, and she looked pleased and
animated, for Clara was her favourite cousin. Oh,
where is she? I should like to congratulate her.'
‘She is probably in the billiard-room with Mr.
Monkton,' said Grace, knitting placidly. 'I will
give her a message from you at dinner-time.'
'I suppose she is very happy,' ventured Ursula,
feeling, as she often did at Boyes Court, that she
had been silly and impulsive.
‘She ought to be," said Mrs. Hardwick. 'Mr.
Monkton is handsome and amiable ; he has excep-
tional abilities, and he is his father's heir. I am
quite satisfied with the alliance.'
"When will the—the alliance take place ?' in-
quired Ursula.
'In six weeks,' said Grace. “Mr. Monkton does
not want to wait. We are going to town directly
after Christmas to buy clothes.'
Ursula's thoughts went wandering to her own
affairs, and she cast about for some way of touching
on them.
'Father is very ill,' she said abruptly; and she
looked at her aunt, and saw that the news annoyed
her. 'He can't help it, you know,' she added. Her
aunt's face almost justified Ursula, but, of course, a
woman like Mrs. Hardwick would never admit that
she has expressed anything without the use of her
tongue.
'My brother never did manage his health well,'
she said. "Have you called in a doctor ?'


THE BERYL STONES
29
The doctor comes every day. He says father
must have a careful diet and good brandy, or he will
die. He is very ill.
The picture of her father's face and of his wasted
hands checked Ursula. She could not go on speak-
ing, and she stared at the fire, struggling meanwhile
for self-control.
Some medical men talk nonsense,' said Mrs.
Hardwick. “My parish doctor says you can nourish
anyone ill on milk for about three shillings a week.
He never sends the cottagers here begging for meat
and wine. In cases of real necessity I let them have
some separated milk, but I don't do that if the family
is undeserving. I consider it a crime against society
to encourage extravagance.'
'Is my father “undeserving”?' said Ursula.
Her aunt's voice droned in her ears ; she felt helpless
and dreary and bewildered.
You should not make personal applications,' said
Mrs. Hardwick; “it is ill-bred. I was talking gener-
ally. I am sorry to hear my brother is ill. If I can,
I will come to see him before we go up to town, but
this sudden engagement of Clara's brings a press of
business.'
'Don't forget that you have promised to write to
Jackson and Rossiter by to-night's post,' said Grace,
glancing at a clock.
The hint was sufficiently strong, and Ursula got up
to go. It occurred to her that she could make use of
the post, and put on paper what it was so difficult to
say by word of mouth; and then she felt ashamed of
her want of courage. She had come on purpose to


30
THE BERYL STONES
ask her aunt for help ; she had known it would be a
disagreeable thing to do; she had not expected to
be met half-way. Somehow she must get it over,
then, and not turn tail now, and have to tell Thomas
she had been afraid to speak. The thought of
Thomas supported her, and with an immense effort
she blurted out her request :
Can you help us, Aunt Joanna ?' she said.
'Father is very ill, and we have no money.'
What do you mean by no money ?' said Mrs.
Hardwick.
‘To-night, when I have paid Susan her wages, I
shall have four pounds in the house.'
"Your father and I started life with the same
fortune. Mine has doubled itself since my marriage.
I hope your father's capital is intact; it should
bring in an income of ninety pounds a year-
with careful management. ....
'I belong to a society for assisting indigent gentle-
women,' said Grace. We reject any case that has
as much as twenty pounds a year. It is quite pos-
sible to live on twenty pounds a year. In some parts
of Germany a skilled artisan only earns three shillings
a week, with perhaps a cellar lodging and a little rye-
bread and soup. An Indian ryot can support him-
self and his family on a penny a day. There has been
an instructive and entertaining course of lectures
at Linham Institute this year, and these facts
were all brought out. I suppose you didn't go to
them ?
“No, I didn't,' said Ursula. Her eyes were sombre,
and her voice vibrated with the indignation she was


THE BERYL STONES
trying to keep within bounds. She did not like to
tell her aunt that her father's capital was exhausted,
and that even the four pounds in his desk belonged
to his creditors, and not to him. She knew that her
father had never spoken of his affairs in this house,
and she desired to guard him still from the contempt
and reproach that such a confession would bring on
his head. He must die, and Thomas and she must
do as best they could—work if might be, beg if
need be, but not come begging here again. She
turned to go.
'Is your father in bed ?' said Mrs. Hardwick.
Yes, he is,' said Ursula, and she moved on.
Give my love to him,' said her aunt. 'I would
make a push to come over if I could do him any
good, but I dare say he ought to be kept quiet. I
suppose it's his old trouble. Be sure and take Dr.
Spotter's advice, and try a milk diet, and make your
four pounds last till your father's dividends come in.
I hope when he is better that you will begin to think
about earning a livelihood. It is quite time you did
something for yourself. You must talk it over with
Grace; she has a real genius for knowing what people
ought to do.
Of course, we shall send you an invitation to
Clara's wedding,' said Grace, walking across the hall
with her cousin ; 'mamma means to ask the whole
family on both sides.'
'Even those who live in the highways and hedges,'
said Ursula. “But shall you supply them with
wedding garments ?'
į Grace helped her cousin find her umbrella, and


32
THE BERYL STONES
made a remark about the snow, and took no notice
of her question.
* Ursula was in a very unpleasant mood,' she said
to her mother, when she went back to her knitting
and her chimney-corner. 'I think perhaps it upset
her to hear that Clara was going to be married. It
always saddens me to watch anyone with a jealous
temperament. I see in to-day's paper that the Duke
of Stars has given his daughter ten thousand pounds'
worth of diamonds on her marriage, but I do not feel
bitter about it. There must always be inequalities
of fortune.'
Ursula has an ill-balanced mind,' said Mrs. Hard-
wick. 'I sometimes wonder what will become of
her. She ought to take a situation as nursery gover-
ness, but I should not like to recommend her to
anyone.'
* Did you notice her boot and her glove ?' said
Grace. 'I am sure the Meysey-Wemysses wondered
who she was.'


CHAPTER IV
For the next six weeks things went from bad to
worse with the Frenches. Susan departed, accord-
ing to her word, and Ursula, with more zeal than
knowledge, performed the duties of nurse and maid-
of-all-work. The brother and sister did without
coal, and, as far as two healthy young creatures
could, without food. They lived on bread and scraps
of bacon, and Thomas spent hours on the common
and in the copses collecting twigs in a sack. But
when the last scuttle of coal was burnt, Ursula paid
for what was owing, and ordered more. She dared
not trust to the twigs for her father's fire. The
supply was irregular and often damp and scanty, and
Dr. Harvey laid as much stress on warmth as on food.
Ursula bought a bottle of good brandy, too, and paid
for it, and some of the tradespeople refused to deal
with her unless their accounts were settled. The
four pounds left after paying Susan's wages soon
dwindled, and then Ursula looked round the house
for valuables, and found nothing much. There were
little things that could be carried to Linham and sold
for a shilling or two, and one by one these had to go.
The brother and sister did not know how else to help
[ 33 ]


THE BERYL STONES
35
We shall soon come to it . . . or to the work-
house.'
'I don't think you can have made Aunt Joanna
understand. I am sure she would not let us go to
the workhouse. It would become known, and be
unpleasant to her.'
‘Then we'll go. If she did not understand, it was
because she would not. She took no interest ; she
asked no questions. She is quite selfish and heart-
less, and I hate her. What has she ever done except
minister to her own comfort and satisfy her own
desires ? Such people are the trash of the world.'
'On the other hand,' said Thomas, 'we ought
never to have come to this pass. We ought to have
lived on father's ninety pounds a year, and you and
I ought to be earning our bread.'
But Ursula would not admit for a moment that
her father had managed his affairs badly. She could
not criticise where she loved so deeply, and, besides,
she looked back at a life of simplicity and self-denial.
She did not remember a time when they were not
pinching and sparing. It seemed to her that they
had never had quite enough to eat or nearly enough
to wear, and they had had no schooling, had never
taken a journey, had never bought unnecessary
things. Of course, if her mother had lived, they
might have managed better. Now that Susan had
gone, Ursula, in spite of her inexperience, was finding
out the immense difference there is between hus-
banding your own supplies and having them squan-
dered by a succession of Susans. But, as long as she
was a child, her father had taken pains to educate
3-2


36
THE BERYL STONES
her, and it was only a year ago that he had allowed
her to be grown up, and no more bound to mark and
learn at his command. It would have been better
for himself, she thought sadly, if he had let her cook
and scrub from early on. You can't turn yourself
into an efficient maid-of-all-work in a day, and
though she tried with might and main, she could not
always dish up a mess that an invalid would eat.
The doctor had pooh-poohed Mrs. Hardwick's advice
about diet, and had continued to order the light,
nourishing dishes, that cost more than milk and were
troublesome to prepare. The trouble they gave the
girl loved, for she watched over her father's life with
the passionate sorrow that finds relief in service. She
would always have been busy for him, and always
with him, and when she thought of his death her
arms clung round him in fancy and kept death away.
The time came, though, when death crossed the
threshold. For three days and nights Ursula did
battle with him, and was left worn out, but for the
moment victorious. Her father rallied, and the
doctor said to the girl what he had said before :
“The prolongation of his life is in your hands now ;
keep up his strength.' 'Such an easy thing for you
to say,' thought Ursula, "and such a hard thing for
me to do.' The brother and sister went the round
of the house together, looking for something to sell.
It was a depressing pilgrimage. By degrees every-
thing portable and saleable had been carried off, and
the brother and sister lived in fear of being asked by
their father for some household god that had gone.
The sitting-room and kitchen were stripped. There


THE BERYL STONES
37
was no fire downstairs that day, and they had eaten
nothing yet but a heel of stale bread soaked in some
tea made with twice-used leaves. Ursula looked
feverish and haggard. She shivered when she came
out of the sick-room into the chill, empty kitchen,
and Thomas looked at her in despair ; for there was
nothing in the house to eat but the crust on the
table, and they had not a sixpence to spend.
Of course, if they had been cottagers, they would
not have been in such straits. Their neighbours
would have known of their troubles, and helped to
feed them, and various charities would have come to
their assistance. But though the Frenches were
known to be poor, they were known to be 'gentry,'
and the people who so unwarrantably claim to be
'the working class' cannot believe that gentlefolks
may suffer want. The common had whispered and
wondered when it saw Thomas go forth every day
with bundles he did not bring back, but it did not
guess at the tragedy playing to a finish behind those
pretty latticed panes. Besides, the house held
furniture, Boyes Court was within call, and the Lin-
ham Infirmary had empty beds. If the brother and
sister were at their wits' end, it was because they did
not make use of their ultimate resources. They sat
opposite each other near the empty kitchen grate,
and at first were silent.
'If father has nothing to eat all day, he'll probably
die in the night,' said Ursula. 'I wish we could die
too ; why don't we?'
“We must get something for father to eat,' said
Thomas.


38
THE BERYL STONES
He took up the crust that had been left that
morning, and broke off little bits and forced him
self to swallow them. Ursula watched him and
wondered. Her desire for food had gone; she
could drink, but the stale crust choked her, and
for three days now there had been nothing better to
eat. She felt too stupid to think ; her very sorrow
was blunted. Her anguished struggle to save her
father's life was giving way to a dull, dangerous
indifference. Death began to wear a friendly face,
friendlier than a life all suffering.
'I must go to Linham,' said Thomas, who had been
thinking hard ; 'I must try to borrow on the furni-
ture. I wish I knew more about such things.
What's a bill of sale ?
' I've no idea,' said Ursula.
Well, I must find out. If we can't raise money
on the furniture, there is nothing left but the work-
house or Aunt Joanna.'
“Yes, there is,' said Ursula. “I'd rather let father
die than let him go to the workhouse . . . alone.
He will die to-night if we do nothing . . . and then
to-morrow ... we can die, and there will be an end
of it.'
'I have told you before,' said Thomas, “I don't
think Aunt Joanna will let it come to the workhouse.'
“How can you bear to be beholden to Aunt
Joanna ?'
'I don't enjoy the idea,' said Thomas ; and he got
up and put on his cap. He had sold his old winter
coat last week, because spring was coming, and he
shivered as he limped across the wind-swept common


THE BERYL STONES
39
to-day. His wizened, delicate face was sharp-set with
hunger, and his progress was slow. Ursula watched
him from the window, and wondered whether he
would have the strength to reach the town.
As she stood there, she saw a milk-cart from a
neighbouring farm, and she ran out with a jug and
beckoned to the man when he had served the nearest
cottage. But he shook his head when he saw her,
and said he had no milk to spare.
'I only want a pint,' said Ursula ; ‘I want it for
someone who is ill.
Can you pay for what you've had since Christ-
mas ?' said the man sulkily.
‘Not to-day,' said Ursula.
She shivered as the wind blew through her, and
the man stared at her and held out his hand for the
jug.
'I'll take the risk of a pint,' he said, “though it's
against Mr. Hobson's orders.'
He filled the jug, which held more than a pint,
and he stared hard at Ursula as he drove away.
When he had gone, the woman he had served just
before, and who had watched them, came out of her
garden-gate towards the cottage.
'Is the gentleman better, miss ?' she said.
The touch of sympathy and kindness in her
manner startled Ursula. She knew very few of her
fellow-creatures, and she had met none yet who were
ready to pity and befriend her.
My father is worse,' she said ; the doctor says
he cannot live long.'
* And now that Susan has gone to the Vicarage,


40
THE BERYL STONES
you and the young gentleman are by yourselves.
Don't you want a little help sometimes, miss ?'
'There is very little to do,' said Ursula, thinking
of the empty larder and the empty grate ; and she
went back into the cottage. But in a few minutes
someone knocked at the back-door, which was also
the kitchen-door, and Ursula had to open it ; and
Mrs. Smiles, with half a dozen eggs in a basket,
stepped in. She begged Ursula to accept the eggs,
and hoped the gentleman might fancy one. She
showed no curiosity, and she hardly stayed two
minutes. But she told Mr. Smiles when he came
back from work that she knew now why Mr.
French's kitchen chimney had hardly ever smoked
since Susan left.
'It's not natural for a kitchen to be that swept up
and tidy first thing in the morning,' she said. “Be-
sides, the larder-door stood open, and there wasn't so
much as a bone or a crust there. It's my belief them
two young things are starving before our very eyes,
and no one to see what's going on. It's a shame!
'I don't know as it's any concern of ours,' said
her husband ; 'they're gentlefolks.
Gentlefolks has insides as well as us, I suppose,'
said his wife sharply. 'What's that Mrs. Rudgeley
about ? She's always poking her nose in here before
I'm cleared up. Let her go in there, and she'd do
some good, perhaps. I'm going to take 'em a rabbit-
pie this afternoon.'
'I've heard that Mr. French is related to Squire
Hardwick,' said her husband. 'He didn't ought to
want our rabbit-pies if that is so.'


THE BERYL STONES
41
'You hear a lot of rubbish one way and another.
The kitchen didn't look like any squire's kitchen I
ever see. It gives me the jumps to think of it ; and
take 'em a pie I will and shall.'
Meanwhile Ursula persuaded her father to swallow
one of the eggs beaten in some milk, and then she
sat down by the kitchen fire, and her thoughts drifted
brokenly. She thought of death as people think of
sleep when they are tired. The deprivations of the
last few weeks, the sight of her father's anguish, the
black abyss of want between her and the future, ex-
hausted her courage. For Thomas and herself she
had hardly any hopes or wishes left alive. It was
when her father called her, when she saw him suffer,
when she feared to lose him, that her energy revived,
and she felt ready to do anything that would give
him relief and keep him a little longer from the grave.
She had never told him of her vain visit to Boyes
Court. She knew that her father expected nothing
of his sister except a perfunctory attention and
politeness. She knew that he would never have
settled within reach of her if a friend had not offered
him the cottage on unusually easy terms. When he
could, he kept away from her, and when that was im-
possible his spirits drooped. So it frightened Ursula
this morning when he said suddenly that he wanted
her to go and see her Aunt Joanna. 'He knows that
he is dying,' thought the girl to herself.
“Am I to take a message"?' she asked.
'Yes,' said Mr. French ; tell her that I am ill.'
'I told her that six weeks ago,' said Ursula hastily;
and then she got up and sat by her father's bed, and


42
THE BERYL STONES
wished she had not spoken. His face and his silence
showed her she had given pain.
What will become of you and Thomas unless
they help you ?' he said soon. “I am finished.'
You are better to-day,' said Ursula, stroking her
father's hand.
You must go again,' said Mr. French. ‘Try to
get hold of your uncle ; a man is often kinder than
a woman. A woman who has never worked, and
never suffered, and never wanted becomes as hard
and stupid as a stone. Go to-day, and tell your
uncle I must see him.
Ursula promised she would, and her father fell
asleep holding her hand. Presently she fell asleep,
too, and Thomas found them so when he returned
from Linham. But as he looked in at the door,
Ursula opened her eyes. His face alarmed her: it
looked so gray and worn.
‘Come down,' he whispered ; and she got up and
followed him.
'I haven't succeeded,' he said; and she saw on the
table a little ragged bit of meat that might have been
bought for a cat.
‘Father can't eat that,' said Ursula.
'It is all the butcher would let me have.'
‘But have you brought no bread? What about
the furniture ?
“While father lives it is his furniture ; they want
his consent and signature.'
'We must ask him, then; it will distress him, but
what can we do ?
• There is no hurry,' said Thomas. 'I went to


THE BERYL STONES
43
every furniture-shop in Linham, and none of them
would so much as discuss a deal until they had seen
and valued the things. They refused to come out
here to-day or to-morrow, and they asked all sorts of
questions. You see, we owe the tradespeople money,
and that is known in the town, no doubt. If you
come to think of it, the furniture is probably not ours
to sell. Our creditors must have a prior claim on it.
One of us must see Aunt Joanna, and if that fails,
father must go to the workhouse infirmary to-
morrow. We have touched bottom.'
'Father wants me to tell Aunt Joanna that he is
ill,' said Ursula.
'She must be told the whole truth,' said Thomas ;
‘if you think you can't make her listen, I'll go and
see Uncle John.
"My poor boy !' said Ursula, you couldn't walk
eight miles there and back through the snow. You
look as if you had had enough.'
'One of us must go.'
' I'll go,' said Ursula, with a short, sobbing sigh.
Her brother looked wan with hunger and fatigue; and
she was older and bigger and stronger than he, and,
as well as she could, she had always tried to look
after his bodily needs.
“Mrs. Smiles has been here,' she said; ‘she brought
me some eggs. I shall ask her to lend me half a loaf,
and we will have something to eat . .. on the
strength of Aunt Joanna.'
She went out of the kitchen-door across to the
neighbouring cottage, and in a few minutes she came
back with some bread.


44
THE BERYL STONES
Mrs. Smiles was quite glad to let me have it,' she
said. “She offered me butter too, but my trust in
Aunt Joanna didn't run to that. She said some-
thing about making us a rabbit-pie for supper, and
I....!
'Look here,' interrupted Thomas, 'what date
is it?'
'The twelfth of February.'
Thomas passed to his sister the rough-edged,
silver-printed paper he held in his hand, and she
looked and read from it in dismay :
« « The marriage of their daughter Clara Georgina
with Mr. Sydney Monkton on Thursday, Feb-
ruary 12, at two o'clock.” But ... then ..
Clara's wedding is to-day. I've never thought of
it since the card came. I never answered the card.
But, then ... I can't go to Boyes Court to-day.'
'One of us must go to-day, and must stop in Lin-
ham on the way back and buy food and brandy for
father,' said Thomas.
‘But how can I go to a smart wedding ?'
You needn't mix with the wedding-guests ; say
you have come on business.'
‘But the hall will be full of them. I should have
to wear my old white summer frock, and my old
cloak over it to hide it ... and leave the cloak
in the vestibule.'
'It doesn't feel like a summer frock outside,' said
Thomas.
'I don't feel like a wedding,' said Ursula.


CHAPTER V
EVERYONE agreed that it had been a pretty wedding.
The guests said so to their hosts, and to each other,
and to the bride and bridegroom, and to the ten
pale-pink bridesmaids who had followed Clara's
court train to the altar. Clara stood in the centre
of the hall, and received the congratulations of her
relatives and friends. She looked smiling and con-
tented, so did everyone around her, except, perhaps,
Mr. Hardwick, who was certain his horses had
caught cold, and was saying so in a high-pitched
voice to anybody who would listen. His wife wore
gray panne, and was rather flushed with exertion
and responsibility ; but the spectacle of Clara stand-
ing before the rector and tying herself for life to
such excellent prospects had been one to gladden a
mother's heart. Clara was a tall pink-and-white
young Englishwoman, who played lawn-tennis with
vigour, wore thick boots, and had a fine constitution
and a dull mind. She was good-natured, and when
the younger children wanted a privilege or were in
a scrape, they applied to her rather than to Grace.
In fact, when they had been told of Clara's engage-
ment they had expressed their unanimous regret
[ 45 )


46
THE BERYL STONES
that Mr. Monkton had not fixed his affections on
Grace. They said she could have been better spared.
Even to-day, in the pale pink silk and chiffon that
became her, Grace looked a little forbidding. She
was a large young woman with a clear skin and fair
hair, but her eyes were small, her jaw heavy, and
her voice the voice of one who lays down the law.
On an occasion like this she was a useful person to
have about, because she knew what everyone ought
to do, and made them do it. She did not get
flustered like her father, or incapable of further
effort like her mother. She moved deliberately
here and there, and discovered that a schoolboy
brother had his pocket full of rice, although Mr.
Hardwick was nervous about rice, and had said no
one should throw it ; she swooped down on a guest
who was daring to feed Clara's fox-terrier with
sugared biscuits ; and when Mr. Monkton's mother
kissed the bride and fell to sobbing, it was Grace
who led the lady into an empty room and ad-
ministered brandy with an air of disapproval war-
ranted to dry up any form of emotion. It was
Grace who stopped the younger children from
making themselves ill with ices, and it was Grace
who took care that the important dowagers should
have a chance of making themselves ill if they
wished. She directed the servants, and kept an
eye on the guests, and acted as showman in the
room given up to the wedding-presents. She was
certainly the central figure, and she played her part
with the pleasant conviction that Sir Henry Jocelyn
was there, and must needs observe how capable she


THE BERYL STONES
47
was. She meant to marry Sir Henry Jocelyn.
Hitherto he had not shown any marked desire to
marry her, but it was not Grace's way to consider
another person's point of view. She knew what she
wanted, and did her best to get it, and with her
family always succeeded. So she had come to
regard herself as a person who can manage others
for their good, and naturally she thought the man
who married her would be a lucky fellow. It had
occurred to her sometimes that Harry Jocelyn, in
spite of his youth, was not as easy to manage as
her parents always had been. Their terms remained
at a standstill instead of growing warmer. But
she had been very busy lately, and a good deal
away from home. She looked forward to a little
leisure now, and a chance of attending to her own
affairs. She moved towards him this afternoon
when she saw a good opportunity, and engaged him
in conversation. He responded civilly, but they
did not become absorbed in each other. She gave
half her attention to him, and half to what other
people were doing, and he watched other people, too,
and was mildly amused. He reflected that Grace
would be the image of her mother in later life, and
that Monkton had carried off the nicer sister of the
two. Clara had prettier eyes and a less dictatorial
voice. Monkton was an old friend of his, other-
wise he would probably not have come to the
wedding. Rivenhall was some miles from Boyes
Court, and he did not know the Hardwicks inti-
mately. Grace's designs on him were plain to his
mother, but not to him. All the women in the


48
THE BERYL STONES
world could not have made a coxcomb of Harry
Jocelyn. He thought Miss Hardwick a polite but
heavy young woman, and never dreamt that he
and his worldly goods had seriously attracted her.
They sat together on a sofa at the end of the hall
and marked the wedding-guests.
Who are those people speaking to your sister ?'
said Harry.
'They are new people ... a Mrs. Lowe and her
son ... they have built that new house ...
Clarion Towers . . . you see one of the lodges on
the Linham road.
'I know,' said Harry; and though his voice was
inexpressive, Grace knew that he wondered why
the Lowes were asked to Boyes Court.
Mrs. Lowe was dressed by Paquin, and she looked
about the hall through her starers, and seemed to say
to herself, “What a lot of frumps !' and the frumps
returned her stare, and said to themselves that she
would make a very handsome appearance behind
a bar. Some of them asked each other what the
Hardwicks were about to encourage such persons.
'It is Mr. Hardwick's doing,' said one. He is
full of an alarmist theory that the land is passing
into the possession of people like the Lowes, and
that it is wise to conciliate them, and to hand on a
blend of his traditions and their money to the next
generation. At least, that is the scheme I heard
him propound at dinner the other night. He did
not say how he proposed to further the blend in
this case, but as Grace was present--
Meanwhile Grace went on talking to Harry


THE BERYL STONES
49
Jocelyn, and she let him understand that her mother
and she did not care for the Lowes.
'I am afraid they are disappointed in the neigh-
bourhood,' she said. “Very few people have
called.'
Harry looked at the lady and her son, and thought
this was not surprising, but of course he could not
say so under the circumstances. He played with
Clara's fox-terrier, and said he wanted to find a dog
for his mother, as her Aberdeen had just died, and
then his manner grew slightly alert, and he said to
Grace: 'Who is that very tall girl just coming in ?'
Grace looked up and saw Ursula.
It seemed to Harry that the crowd fell apart to
make room for Ursula. She dwarfed every woman
present, and many of the men. She had put off
her cloak at the door, and her old summer frock and
hat emphasized her unlikeness to the women who
wore smarter clothes, but were less graceful, less
divinely tall, and less distinguished. Her sad eyes
gave her face a great and touching beauty, and, as
she approached Clara they were alight with con-
gratulation and goodwill. Clara looked quite pleased
to see her cousin, and introduced Mr. Monkton to
her, and for a moment both bride and bridegroom
gave Ursula their attention. But of course other
people were crowding round them, and Ursula soon
found herself standing alone and aside. She had
just shaken hands with her aunt as she came in, but
she had not seen her uncle or Grace yet. She felt
weak and bewildered, and the chatter of voices
jarred on her, so did the sight of all these smiling,


50
THE BERYL STONES
well-dressed people, who looked as if they had never
been anxious or hungry in their lives.
To escape them she turned into the billiard-room,
which was close by. There were people here, too,
but they were not so thick on the ground, and they
were perambulating round the billiard-table and
various smaller tables, all set out with wedding-
presents. Harry Jocelyn and Grace came face to
face with Ursula there, and Grace just shook hands
with her cousin and passed on as quickly as possible
to some Worcester china, to which she drew her
companion's attention. He said it was very pretty,
and allowed his eyes to wander towards the tall girl
again. She was standing near a display of jewellery,
and he saw her take up and put down a necklace
made of roughly-cut stones that had caught his eye
a moment before. The name on the card near it
was the name of Mr. Hardwick's bachelor brother,
who had lately returned from the East. As Jocelyn
watched Ursula, he saw Jack Hardwick, a young son
of the house, go up to her, and he overheard what
they said to each other. Jack observed that his
sister had a ripping lot of presents, but that he didn't
care for this jewellery. What he liked was the
bicycle and the riding-horse from father ; of course,
the horse couldn't be on view here, but if Ursula
cared to go round to the stables . . . or would she
come to the dining-room first and have ices ? He
had only had seven himself, because Grace had told
the servants not to give him any more unless he
wanted them for ladies. And did Ursula see that
necklace ? Well, yesterday it was as good as burnt,


THE BERYL STONES
51
and his mother said it wouldn't have mattered much,
because it looked like bits of glass, and she thought
Uncle Horace might have sent something better.
'Oh, hush, Jack !' said Ursula ; but the boy went
on in his young, shrill voice, and told how a careless
housemaid had thrown the little package with some
rubbish on the fire, and how he, Jack, had noticed
it, and fished it out with a pair of tongs.
'The case was spoilt, but not the necklace,' he
finished. “Clara gave me five shillings. Let's go
and have some ices.'
Jocelyn watched Ursula depart with the friendly
little boy, and as soon as he could break away from
Grace he followed. He found the dining-room
crowded, for the bride had gone in there to cut the
cake. Fragments of it were being handed round,
and everyone was drinking champagne, and saying
pretty things to the young couple. It was some
time before Harry, who was well known and popular,
could wedge his way through the mob, and when at
last he could have touched Ursula's elbow he could
not see anyone near to present him. Jack had
disappeared. She stood alone again; but someone
had served her with champagne and cake, so there
was no immediate excuse for speaking to her.
There was no immediate hurry, either. He was
content for the moment. Once their eyes met, and
hers turned from him, and then glanced his way as
if he had both startled and attracted her. Tall as
she was, she could look up to him, and she felt sure
that she would remember his face. It was strong
and young, and kind and pleasant; his hair was as
42


52
THE BERYL STONES
dark as her own ; he had a darker skin than hers,
but his eyes were gray. She wondered who he was,
and whether he looked at any and every woman so
intently, and then a voice addressing her on the
other side changed the course of her thoughts. She
turned rather hurriedly, and saw Mr. Lowe. He
had put out his hand to take hers, and was saying
they had not met for a long while, and what a pretty
wedding it had been, and what horrid weather it
was, and so on. Harry, wedged close to them by
the crowd, saw and heard what passed. The washed-
out little man with the self-complacent manner
trickled on for a time before he understood that the
girl he addressed would not take his hand or in any
way recognise him. The crush was so great and
everyone was so preoccupied that Ursula could
behave as she did without making a scene. The
glass of champagne she had just finished acted like
a strong, stimulating drug on her half-starved body,
and she felt less timid than usual, and angrier than
ever with Mr. Lowe. A quiver had passed over her
face wiien she first saw him, and then she held her-
self very erect and stared across the room. Harry
watched her face flush with the unpleasant effort;
but she did not yield an inch, and directly a slight
movement in the crowd made it possible she turned
her back on Mr. Lowe, and began to thread her way
out of the room. For once even Mr. Lowe's self-
complacency received a shock, and he looked after
her with a scowl. Harry felt puzzled and a little
curious. Grace Hardwick had answered his question,
and he knew that the tall, Italian-looking girl was


THE BERYL STONES
53
her cousin. He went out into the hall as soon as
he could, but by the time he reached it Ursula had
vanished, and on his way to the drawing-room the
bridegroom kidnapped him, and carried him off to
smoke while the bride changed her dress.
Meanwhile Ursula had gone in search of her aunt.
The encounter with Mr. Lowe had disturbed her,
and she felt inclined to run out of the house as
quickly as possible. But she could not go without
making her appeal for help. She had not for one
moment lost sight of the need that had driven her
here, and her father's face, worn with pain, and
Thomas's face, pinched by want, the chill hearth, the
bare larder, and the half-stripped house, were in her
mind with sad insistence while she witnessed the
elaborate celebration of her cousin's marriage. Out-
side a storm of wind and rain was sweeping across
the park, and the winter day was changing fast to
night. It was time to think of the long, wild walk
home, and of the anxiety and sorrow that would
meet her on the threshold. Those sorrows were the
realities of her life, not these warm, scented rooms,
where life was easy.
She asked for her aunt, and was told that Mrs.
Hardwick had gone upstairs with the bride. She
hesitated a little, looked for her uncle but could
not find him, and finally went upstairs and knocked
at the door of Clara's room, for she knew the house
well enough to know where the bride and her mother
would be. She wished she might be lucky enough
to find Clara alone; for Clara was indifferent, but
not ill-natured. But it was not Ursula's lucky hour.


54
THE BERYL STONES
In response to her knock Grace opened the door,
and looked surprised to see her cousin. She came
out of the room, and shut the door behind her.
Mother and Clara wish to be by themselves,'
she said. “Shall we go down ??
'It is getting so dark. I ought to go home,'
murmured Ursula.
'I suppose most people will go directly Mr.
Monkton and Clara have driven off,' said Grace.
‘Before I go I want to speak to Aunt Joanna,'
said Ursula, who, unfortunately, often let herself get
flurried by Grace's cool, superior tone.
'I am afraid there will be no chance of that.
Mother will see Clara off, and then everyone will
want to say good-bye, and after that I am anxious
for her to lie down. She is very tired, and her head
aches. I suppose what you want to say will wait.'
'Can I see Uncle John ?' said Ursula.
‘He has started for Linham. He took it into his
head to see them off from the station. I tried to
dissuade him from going in such weather, but father
never will be advised.'
Well . . . then ...I must ask you,' said
Ursula, and she spoke with shame and difficulty.
Can you lend me a little money ?'
'Certainly not,' said Grace. 'I am amazed that
you should ask.'
'I want it to buy food,' said Ursula. 'Father
is very ill. He may not live long.
'Really, Ursula, you ought to be ashamed of
yourself, preached Grace. "You said the same
thing six weeks ago, when you asked mother for


THE BERYL STONES
55
money. She refused it, and in my opinion she was
right. If your father wants help he ought to apply
to his sister and explain his affairs. It would be
more creditable than to send you here . . . begging.'
‘Oh !' whispered Ursula, and she winced as if her
cousin had struck her.
My father did send a message,' she said. He
wishes to see Aunt Joanna as soon as possible.'
Very well,' said Grace; 'I will tell my mother
to-morrow.'
'To-morrow may be too late.'
'Do you expect my mother to drive four miles
through the wind and rain to-day ? You are
always so exaggerated and excitable, Ursula. We
have never believed there was much the matter with
Uncle Matthew. When he threw up his work it was
for an insufficient reason.'
'The doctors would not agree with you.'
'Some doctors will say anything you want them
to say,' observed Grace.
Ursula made no reply. The two girls were
descending the stairs that led into the hall, and as
soon as she could Grace drifted away from her
cousin and mixed with the other guests.


CHAPTER VI
URSULA walked slowly across the hall towards the
billiard-room, hardly conscious of her direction, and
quite unmindful that she was exciting comment by
the pallor and misery of her face. No one followed
her, however, and when she reached the room, which
was empty now, she leant against the chimney-
piece and stared into the fire. Nothing seemed to
stir in her except anger. She was aflame with it,
and her ideas were blurred and indeterminate. She
felt as helpless as a swimmer knocked out of breath
by a storm-wave, as helpless and as numb. It was
only when she began to take breath again that the
picture of her father came back with cruel force.
As she thought of the way his eyes followed her, and
of the way they might even now be looking out for
her—as she thought of him in need of food she could
not give, and suffering, perhaps dying, in sheer want
of it, her misery found vent in a low sigh. She
turned from the fire in a sudden hurry to get back
to him, and without premeditation her glance was
arrested by the jewellery, spread like a devil's lure
to her hand. She leaned towards it, and was imme-
diately startled by a slight sound at the door. She
( 56 )


THE BERYL STONES
57
looked up, and saw Mr. Lowe. As their eyes met
he went away again, closing the door sharply after
him. For a moment Ursula wavered, and she
watched the door. There was no doubt about it
being closed. On the other side of it she heard a
rising hum of voices, a hubbub of farewells. The
bride and bridegroom were departing, and she knew
that everyone would be in a cluster near the front-
door, with rice and old shoes and smiles and kisses.
The instant the carriage drove off the guests would
scatter, and some might enter here.
The hum rose to a shout. Ursula picked up
the necklace that had been so nearly lost the day
before. She felt neither compunction nor fear,
because her wrath burned in her like a flame, and
drove out all considerations except the supreme
one of her father's peril. She slipped the necklace
into her pocket, and entered into the crowded hall.
No one took any notice of her. The guests were
beginning to move, and think of their own departure.
Mrs. Hardwick and Grace were both surrounded.
Ursula passed them by. A footman in the vestibule
gave her her cloak, and so, unsped and unsuspected,
she went out into the winter afternoon.
The storm of wind and rain had not abated, the
thick snow on the ground was turning fast into
slush, and as Ursula painfully covered the two long
miles between Boyes Court and Linham she had
neither strength nor leisure to reflect on what she
had done. Her body was so weary that it bent to
the buffets of the weather and at every few yards
she had to stop and turn her back on the storm for


58
THE BERYL STONES
a moment, while she took breath and gathered
courage to go forward again. It was impossible
to think of anything except the wind that roared
against her and the baffling darkness, and the sting
of the rain. If her mind travelled on at all, it
occupied itself with the rest and shelter for which
her limbs were aching. The lights of Linham, seen
from the top of the long, steep road that led to the
town, roused her in some measure from this lethargy
of spirit. It was in Linham that her action must
bear fruit, and she began to dwell with dread on
the business still before her. The second mile went
quicker than the first. It was downhill, and every
step took her closer to the transaction that would
seal what she had done.
There was only one jeweller's shop of any impor-
tance in Linham. It was kept by a Mr. Dodsworth,
a most respectable man. Ursula had never been
inside the shop, but, of course, she knew the look of
the windows. She did not know anything about
Mr. Dodsworth. He was a guardian, and she had
seen his name in the local paper in connection with
a fuss at the workhouse about the paupers' Christmas
beer. Mr. Dodsworth was a guardian, and he
objected on principle to giving paupers beer. But
when Ursula went into the shop she was no more
occupied with the owner of it than you are occupied
with the man at a turnstile who lets you pass when
you have paid your gate-money. To you at the
moment he is about as interesting as the hinges he
sets creaking for your convenience.
The door rang an electric bell as she opened it,


THE BERYL STONES
59
and Mr. Dodsworth himself came forward to serve
her. There was no one else in the shop at the time.
'I want to sell this,' said Ursula, and she put the
necklace on the counter.
Mr. Dodsworth looked at it, and then he looked
much longer at the young lady. It struck him as
odd that she should have brought him a trinket of
some value without either case or wrappings.
'I haven't much sale for articles of this kind,' he
said. “People have a mistaken idea that they can
get things better in Bond Street, so they go to Bond
Street, and pay double what I should charge them.
What have you done with the case belonging to
this ? Perhaps I could negotiate an exchange with
the maker.'
'I haven't a case,' said Ursula.
‘Don't you know where it was bought ?'
'No.'
Mr. Dodsworth examined the necklace with a
grudging eye, and tried to deduce from Ursula's
manner how little she would take for it.
'It's a wild night,' he said by the way.
'Yes,' said Ursula, and she sat down because her
knees were trembling uncomfortably. The man's
hesitation was a drain on her courage that she had
not foreseen, and she felt pulled two ways by the
disagreeableness of the affair and her desire, now
that she had gone so far, to conclude it. She had
felt no fear until he had the necklace in his hands,
and then her impulse was to snatch it from him, run
back to Boyes Court, and confess to the thing she
had done. The conflict in her mind found more


60
THE BERYL STONES
expression than she knew in her face, her voice, and
her unsteady hands. Mr. Dodsworth noticed that
her fingers shook when she put the necklace down.
She spoke with effort and her lips were shrunken
and bloodless.
What do you want for it ?' said Mr. Dodsworth.
'Ten pounds,' said Ursula at a venture.
Mr. Dodsworth took the necklace to the back of
the shop and examined it carefully. Then he came
back again to Ursula. He was a wizened-looking,
clean-shaven man, with a freckled skin and a solemn
manner. He had learnt his trade from an uncle, a
jeweller in a small way in a neighbouring country
town, and he had not learned much about the value
of roughly-cut stones.
'I will give you five pounds,' he said, coming
back to the counter. “It is not worth more to me.
I don't expect to get rid of it in the ordinary way.'
' I thought it was worth more than five pounds,'
said Ursula.
Not to me. There is no sale for this sort of
thing in Linham. People like something tasty and
finished. Only this morning Mr. Vine the butcher
came in to buy a necklace for his wife. “Don't show
me any of those trashy affairs they sell in London
now,” he said, “ because I've no use for them. If I
had I'd make 'em myself out of bottle-glass." He
bought a handsome gold dog-collar. How would
you like to exchange instead of to sell ? I could give
you better value.
'I want the money,' said Ursula.
Mr. Dodsworth went to his desk at the end of the


THE BERYL STONES
61
shop, and bent over it for a time that seemed to
Ursula interminable. She listened to the scratch
of his pen, and to the loud tick-tack of a grand-
father's clock; her body was weary, her mind void
and dull. The heat of the shop almost sent her to
sleep, and when at last Mr. Dodsworth came forward
with a pen and paper, that he placed before her, she
stared at him stupidly.
'It is only a form,' he said, 'but I make a rule
of it in private transactions. If you will just affix
your signature.'
Ursula read what he had written. “February 12,
1896. Sold to Mr. James Dodsworth for the sum
of five pounds a beryl necklace, which I certify to
be my own property and at my own disposal.'
She was just sufficiently awake to know that she
must either walk out of the shop at once or sign,
and show neither surprise nor agitation.
'It is only a form,' repeated Mr. Dodsworth
easily. He put the pen in her hand, and went back
to his desk to get the five pounds. Ursula felt
thankful for a moment's respite, and her bewildered
brain tried to decide what it was best to do. She
looked towards Mr. Dodsworth, and saw him take
a bank-note from the cash-box. It fluttered in his
hands. In a moment it might be hers; she would
change it, go home with meat and bread and brandy,
and no one would ever be the wiser or the worse.
At Boyes Court they would think the necklace had
been lost again; and as she stood there, the pen
poised in her hand, Ursula looked forward to a day
when she would afford to buy a necklace as good as


62
THE BERYL STONES
this or better, and carry it to Clara, and perhaps
tell her what she had done. She bent over the
counter, and signed herself ' Amy Smith. It was
the first name that came into her head, and though
it was hateful to sign a false one, she thought it
would be still more hateful to sign her own, and leave
it, a damning proof of her guilt, in the jeweller's
hands. He came forward again now, and Ursula
offered to take the bank-note from him. She was
ashamed and afraid of the whole business, and
wanted to be gone. But Mr. Dodsworth did not
give up the note until he had looked at her signature,
and as he looked his manner changed.
*This won't do,' he said uncivilly. “I must have
your real name.'
He pushed the paper back to her across the
counter, and Ursula looked at it because she could
not look at Mr. Dodsworth. His tone made her
wince.
'I know who you are,' he added.
‘I have never been in your shop before,' said
Ursula.
I know that, too,' said Mr. Dodsworth. He
spoke in an unmannerly way. I've been in
Linham more than two years,' he added. “You've
been pointed out to me.'
Ursula could not tell what the man suspected, or
what he might do. If she asked for the necklace
back he might refuse it, and communicate with the
police.
'I don't want anyone to hear that I have sold
this,' she said. “I happen to be in want of money.'


THE BERYL STONES
63
'I know all about that, too,' said Mr. Dodsworth.
'You must be a very inexperienced young lady if
you think people's affairs aren't talked over in a
place like Linham. Why, I've seen you and your
brother carry parcels into Chapman's there across
the road, and come away without them. But as
long as it's all straight about this necklace, and I'm
sure I hope it is, you needn't be uneasy. I shan't
tell anyone you've been here with it.'
Ursula took up the pen again, and put a line
through ‘Amy Smith,' and signed her own name
in a plain hand just beneath. As she saw the two
signatures together she felt a sickening shame of
her own deed, and when Mr. Dodsworth handed
her the five-pound note, she took it with averted
eyes and hastily left the shop. The anger that
blinded her when she stole the gems had passed
away, and left a sense of danger and disgrace behind.
She went into various shops, and bought meat and
bread and groceries and a bottle of brandy, and
the weight of these things made her arm ache as she
dragged slowly home. But her misery of mind was
so great that she hardly took thought for her body.
It was distress rather than fatigue that hung like
lead on her heels. The, events of the afternoon
passed before her with the reality and swiftness of a
biograph, and she saw herself pressing forward to
greet Clara standing placidly beside her bridegroom
in the warm, flowery, crowded hall. Jack's shrill
voice told her about the loss and rescue of the neck-
lace; the dark, tall man with gray eyes looked at
her; Mr. Lowe had the impudence to address her;


64
THE BERYL STONES
and Grace, her cousin, told her not to beg. Now
she was not only a beggar but a thief. She staggered
as she opened the door of the cottage and crossed
the threshold, and Thomas, coming to meet her,
took fright at her dull, frozen face. He took the
parcels she carried, and put them on a table, and
then he unwrapped the bottle of brandy. As he
did so he watched Ursula, not quite knowing what
to say. She had sat down in the nearest chair, and
had thrown off her wet cloak. He looked at the
meat and bread and groceries, and wondered how
she could have carried the things, and supposed
that they had been too much for her.
'Aunt Joanna did give you some money, then ?'
he said soon. “I thought she would when you told
her the real state of affairs.
For the first time since she had sunk into the
chair Ursula moved and spoke.
“How is father ?' she said. "How has he been ?'
'He has been bad,' said Thomas ; ‘he is very
weak. I think he ought to have some brandy at
once.'
“Yes,' said Ursula ; “take him some. I must get
dry before I go in to him.'
What did Aunt Joanna say about father?'
"Oh, she was taken up with Clara and her guests,'
said Ursula evasively. “There was a great crowd
there, you know, and lovely flowers, and everyone
fussing round with congratulations and drinking
champagne. I had some champagne, and it went
to my head. I suppose I ought to have eaten more
with it.'


THE BERYL STONES 65
‘Did Clara have many presents ?'
' A great many.'
'Any books ?'
'I think so. I don't remember much. I came
away as soon as I could. I wanted to get back to
father.'
'It is a mercy you went, and were able to see
Aunt Joanna,' said Thomas. “There was literally
nothing in the house that father can take except
one egg. Mrs. Smiles brought us a rabbit-pie. ...'
We cannot beg food from the cottagers ! cried
Ursula. "We cannot beg!'
Thomas stared at her in amazement. The sudden
passion with which she spoke confounded him, and
when she began to cry as if her heart would break
he did not in the least know what to do.
'You're tired and hungry,' he said. “If you
were to put on dry clothes, and come downstairs
and eat some of the pie you'd feel better. We
didn't ask for it, and we can make it up to Mrs.
Smiles in some way. I might do a bit of gardening
for her. Mr. Smiles never has time.'


CHAPTER VII
Most of the wedding-guests left Boyes Court soon
after the bride and bridegroom. Except Mr. Lowe
and his mother, those who remained were either
staying in the house or on an intimate footing there.
No one knew why the Lowes stayed so long, and
certainly no one wanted them ; but they did not
seem to observe that. Their presence cast a partial
blight, for they were little known in the neighbour-
hood, and not greatly esteemed. Mrs. Lowe's
dashing appearance went against her, and so did her
accent and her boisterous good spirits. Even Grace
Hardwick could not repress her, because she hated
Grace. She hated every circumstance of country
life, but, above all, she hated the people.
'I don't want to kow-tow to a lot of old frumps
who look at me as if I was a monkey on a barrel-
organ,' she had said to her stepson that morning.
' I've no use for them, and they've no use for me.'
This was quite true. However, to please Cramp-
ton, she had put on her new Paquin frock, and had
come with him to the wedding ; and there, as she
had foreseen, she was not enjoying herself. She
would have left long since if her carriage had only
[ 66 )


THE BERYL STONES
67
come to take her away. Of course, she did not know
that Crampton had bribed the coachman to arrive
later, and make up any tale he pleased about delay
on the road. Crampton wanted to spin out his visit.
His father had got on in the world financially, and
he meant to get on socially, and he knew that to do
either a man must seize his opportunities. It was
beginning to dawn on him that his stepmother was
a stumbling-block. The people he aspired to were
not so much overawed by her clothes and jewels as
he in his ignorance had thought they might be, and
she was not impressed or made careful by their
superior manners, as, of course, she should have been.
This afternoon Crampton felt like a child who
builds a house of cards, and sees it knocked down by
another child incapable of building. He wished the
carriage would come and take her away, and leave
him behind. She had just startled everyone, first
by yawning visibly, and then by saying she felt like
the Yankee girl in Punch, who guessed if she sat still
much longer she'd take root. After she had attracted
attention in this way, she approached Sir Henry
Jocelyn, whom she did not know, and said in an arch
voice that she had seen him at supper at Prince's last
week, and had recognised him the moment he entered
the room. The young man looked amused, and
began to talk to the adventurous lady. After a
little argument about rival restaurants, Mrs. Lowe
remembered that she had not seen the presents yet,
and that “it would be something to do.' So, fol-
lowed by Harry Jocelyn, she took her loud voice and
her swishing skirts into the billiard-room.
542


68
THE BERYL STONES
'I haven't seen all the presents yet,' said Cramp-
ton to Miss Hardwick in an inviting way. He had
been standing near her for some time, and getting a
word or two in edgeways while she talked to Harry's
mother, Lady Jocelyn. Grace wished he would .
move away, and when he said he had not seen the
presents she took her chance. She beckoned to
Jack, who had just torn himself from the ices.
Mr. Lowe wishes to see the presents,' she said ;
'take him into the billiard-room.'
This was not exactly what Mr. Lowe wanted, but
he reflected that Sir Henry Jocelyn was in the
billiard-room with his stepmother, and that under
the circumstances it would be easy to make his ac-
quaintance. He followed Jack, and Grace went on
talking to Lady Jocelyn about Aberdeen terriers and
the proper way to feed them. Grace could not talk
to anyone for five minutes without becoming in
structive. 'Lady Jocelyn, who went to her son when
she wanted information about the management of
dogs, listened placidly for a little while, and then said.
she would like to look at the presents. So Grace got
up to act as guide. She did so willingly, for she
wanted to know how Harry Jocelyn and Mrs. Lowe
were getting on. But at the door of the billiard-
room she was met by Jack in a state of excité-
ment.
'That necklace has gone again,' he said.
Oh, nonsense !' said Grace.
Come and see, then,' urged the boy.
With a calm, incredulous air, Grace followed her
brother to the further end of the long table, talking


THE BERYL STONES
69
1
all the while to Lady Jocelyn, and stopping once or
twice on the way. There were about a dozen people
in the room now, and most of them were seated.
Mr. Lowe stood where Jack had left him, near Clara's
jewels. His stepmother and Sir Henry Jocelyn were
not far off.
'It was here,' said the boy, pointing to the spot
where the necklace had lain. 'I took it up and
showed it to Ursula, and told her about it having
been thrown away.'
'When was that ?' said Mr. Lowe.
'Just before Clara cut the cake and everyone
crammed into the dining-room.'
'It certainly is not on the table,' said Grace, who
had been busily lifting and shifting the presents.
'Look underneath, Jack.'
* They were rather good beryls,' said Mr. Lowe ;
'I understand something about precious stones.'
We don't,' said Grace; we didn't even know
what they were. We thought they looked rather
rubbishy. Still, of course. ..
.. 'I don't mean that they were worth a fortune,'
said Mr. Lowe. Perhaps a hundred pounds. ...'
* Really ! interrupted Grace, and she looked
rather startled. 'I think my mother had better be
told,' she concluded, and she sent Jack for Mrs.
Hardwick.
Meanwhile, the other people in the room had all
come forward, and were asking what had happened.
When they were told, a general search began in
every likely and unlikely corner. Mrs. Lowe was
the only person who looked incredulous.


70
THE BERYL STONES
'I expect your sister popped it into her dressing-
bag,' she said to Grace.
'That is very improbable,' said Miss Hardwick.
'I don't see why.'
‘She had decided not to take it with her.'
‘She changed her mind, then . . . you bet,' said
Mrs. Lowe.
Grace was relieved from further discussion by the
arrival of her mother.
"What is this story about Uncle Horace's neck-
lace ?' said Mrs. Hardwick. “It was here an hour
ago; it must be here still. I suppose someone has
taken it up and put it down in a different place.'
We have looked everywhere,' said Grace.
'It can't have been thrown away with the
wrappings this time,' said Jack. “It was lying just
here by itself. I took it up and showed it to
Ursula.'
'I saw you take it up,' said Sir Henry Jocelyn ;
'I saw you put it down again. It was certainly here
then.'
'How very odd !' said Mrs. Hardwick. “Can
Clara have taken it with her ?'
'You've hit the nail on the head,' said Mrs. Lowe.
I don't think so,' said Grace with decision. 'I
know that Clara was not in this room for a moment
after she came back from church.'
‘She may have sent someone for it,' said Mrs.
Lowe.
‘That can be easily ascertained,' said Jocelyn.
'A telegram. ....
‘But we have no address,' said Mrs. Hardwick.


THE BERYL STONES
71
* They go to Paris to-morrow, but Sydney would not
say where they meant to stop on the way. I don't
think he had made up his mind. It is most unfor-
tunate.'
Well, I shouldn't worry,' said Mrs. Lowe ; ‘you
may be sure your daughter has the necklace.'
Her persistence, which had for its motive the
facile good-nature that often determined her con-
duct, struck Mrs. Hardwick and Grace as officious.
They made no response to her suggestion.
‘The room must be thoroughly searched at once,
said Mrs. Hardwick. “Ring for Wilson, Jack ; he
can see to it, and you may stay and help him. We
will go into the drawing-room.'
'I should have thought you would inform the
police,' said Mr. Lowe, who observed that his step-
mother was blundering.
‘My husband may decide to do so when he re-
turns,' said Mrs. Hardwick magisterially. She then
swept her remaining guests before her to the draw-
ing-room, where she entertained them with pon-
derous small-talk until their carriages took them
away. But her mind, if you can speak of a mind in
relation to Mrs. Hardwick, was not on what she said ;
it was fixed on the missing necklace. She felt the
difficulties of the situation-the check on her wrath
imposed by guests above suspicion, and the check
imposed by her own uncertainty. She did not want
to make innocent people uncomfortable, or to raise
a hue-and-cry about a theft that had never been
committed. It was possible that Clara had the
beryls, but it was possible, too, that someone had


THE BERYL STONES
stolen them, and Mrs. Hardwick's imagination was
hardly vivid enough to carry her to the bitter end of
the measures she would take on principle and with
great satisfaction against the thief.
In a short time everyone who was leaving the
house that day had left, except Mrs. Lowe and her
stepson. Their carriage had not been announced
yet, and Crampton had made several apologies for
the delay, while Mrs. Lowe said that it was not her
doing. She had ordered the carriage for four sharp,
and what the coachman was playing at she did not
know. Mrs. Hardwick was as civil as her code pre-
scribed and her inward vexation permitted, but she
looked up whenever the door opened, and offered at
last to send Mrs. Lowe home when Mr. Hardwick
returned with his own carriage from Linham. As
she rang to give the order, the butler came in, and
said that the necklace was nowhere to be found ;
and while he was giving his report Mr. Hardwick
appeared, and was at once told what had happened.
His first idea was to send someone post-haste to the
police-station.
* It ought to have been done at once,' he said ; of
course, it was the first thing to do. The whole house
must be searched, and everyone in it. I wish we had
had a detective ; I expressed a desire that we should
have a detective, but Grace thought it was unneces-
sary. Did you not, my dear? I have no doubt
that the beryls are valuable. My brother has an
income that permits him to give valuable presents.
Besides, he has spent so much of his time in the
East, and has been so much associated with Eastern


THE BERYL STONES
73
potentates, who frequently bestow valuable gems
on those who serve them well. He must on no
account hear of it; he would think we had been care-
less of his gift. What a disagreeable affair it is ! It
will get into the papers ; it will be talked of all over
the neighbourhood. Everyone who has been here
will hear of it, and perhaps feel uncomfortable.'
'On that account,' said Mr. Lowe, “it is most un-
fortunate that you cannot ascertain whether your
daughter has the necklace before you publish its
loss.'
The young man spoke with conviction, and Mr.
Hardwick looked at him approvingly.
in “A very good idea,' he said—'a very good idea.
It is the most likely thing in the world that Clara
picked it up at the last moment, and took it with her.'
‘But,' said Grace, ' I happen to know that Clara
did not enter the billiard-room after she came back
from church, and ever so many people saw it there
a little while before she left the house.'
‘I say she sent for it,' volunteered Mrs. Lowe.
'Quite possible,' said Mr. Hardwick, bowing his
head towards the lady. It was he who had taken
up the Lowes, and he still felt well disposed towards
them.
‘At any rate,' he went on, 'I am inclined to think
Mr. Lowe's suggestion a wise one. Before trying to
catch the thief, let us make sure that a theft has been
committed. Let us communicate as soon as pos-
sible with Clara.'
' It isn't easy to communicate with people when
they leave no address,' said Mrs. Hardwick in a tone


74
THE BERYL STONES
of annoyance. She did not believe in the lead her
husband was following with such docility.
'If we send a reply paid telegram to the Calais
boat to-morrow morning, they will receive it when
they go on board,' said Mr. Hardwick. 'I got that
out of Sydney last thing. I represented to him that
events of great importance may happen in a short
space of time, and that I expected to lie awake all
night composing and receiving urgent telegrams.
So, as the train moved off, he leaned out of the
window and said: “We cross from Dover at eleven
to-morrow. If an earthquake swallows you to-
night, wire to the boat.” Sydney is inclined to be
jocular, but he will perceive now that I am right. I
congratulate myself on my foresight.'
"Well, ta-ta !' said Mrs. Lowe, whose carriage had
been at last announced, and who had said good-bye
with more formality to the ladies of the family.
'Hope the lost property will turn up; mine never
does. I've sown London with purses since the tight
skirts came in.'
'I feel sure that woman took it,' said Grace, when
she was left alone with her mother for a moment.
‘But she has such jewels of her own !' said Mrs.
Hardwick. “Did you see the diamonds in her hat ?'
‘She is a vulgar woman,' said Grace ; and then
she left her mother to rest a little. A few young
people were staying in the house, and she collected
them and set them at games in the hall. When
they were all employed, she went back to the draw-
ing-room. She sat down opposite her mother, and
took up the biography of a popular Bishop. The


THE BERYL STONES
75
curtains were drawn, some big logs had been thrown
on the coal fire, and an electric lamp lighted the
open pages in her hand. But she did not read much.
The day's work had tired her, and she felt lazy and
sleepy. Outside the wind whistled, and drove the
rain against the windows.
What a wild night!' said Mrs. Hardwick. 'I
hope Sydney and Clara will stay in London.'
'I wish something had been done to-night about
those beryls,' said Grace; we are giving the thief
time.'
'It is an unfortunate business,' said Mrs. Hard-
wick sleepily ; ‘at least, it will be if Clara says she
has not got them.'
She nearly dozed off again, and Grace began to
read; but presently a violent gust of wind and
driving rain roused her mother, and in an inter-
mittent way she seemed inclined for conversation.
'Did you see anything of Ursula before she left ?'
asked Grace, when their more important guests had
passed in review.
'Nothing at all,' said Mrs. Hardwick. 'I am quite
out of patience with Ursula. She did not answer
my invitation, she sent Clara no present, and I hoped
she would have the sense to stay away. When I
saw her, I received a shock; she only wanted a few
straws in her hair to look like an Ophelia in a com-
pany of strolling players.'
‘She asked me to lend her some money.'
* What did you say ?'
'I refused. She probably thinks us unkind, but
one must act according to one's convictions. People


76
THE BERYL STONES
like Ursula never understand what calls people in
our circumstances have on them, and it is no use
trying to explain. She says Uncle Matthew is ill,
but she said so six weeks ago in nearly the same
words. I think we ought to go there, and see what
the state of things really is.'
'It is a long drive in this weather, and I get a chill
so easily,' said Mrs. Hardwick. 'My brother should
write himself if he wants anything.'
'I might go over some day,' said Grace; but it
is always a thankless business to help people who
refuse to help themselves.'


CHAPTER VIII
'I WONDER who did nick those beryls,' said Mrs.
Lowe, as she drove home with her stepson.
'I wonder,' said he.
'I believe Mrs. Hardwick thought it was me.
What fun!
* Very odd things amuse you. I don't see any fun
in being taken for a thief.'
'Well, it doesn't worry me much,' said Mrs. Lowe.
'I don't believe I mind what I'm taken for in that
house. If they thought I was infectious I could bear
it ... as long as I might keep away.'
‘You don't seem to understand,' began Crampton.
'Oh yes, I do; but I wish you'd play off your own
bat. The game isn't lively enough for me.'
There is such a thing as social ambition.'
'I dare say; but I'm not taking any. I want to
be comfortable, and I'm not amongst those old
freezers.'
Mr. Lowe saw the uselessness of such a discussion,
and allowed it to drop. He had other things to
occupy his mind. For him, too, the afternoon had
not been one of unmixed enjoyment, and the moment
that stood out with humiliating prominence was the
[ 77 ]


78
THE BERYL STONES
disagreeable one of his encounter with Ursula.
Nothing irritated Mr. Lowe more than a reminder
that there were people in the world who attached
less importance to money than he did. He felt in-
stinctively that his own value depended on the
possession of it. He could swallow a snub as com-
fortably as any other climber, but when someone in
a weak position had the audacity to show him the
cold shoulder, he would stick his knife into that
shoulder if he could manage it. Of course, civilized
life has almost closed the door on personal revenge ;
you may owe a grudge all your life, and never get a
chance to pay it. But as he drove home from Boyes
Court, Mr. Lowe had a shrewd idea that he was in
luck's way. That night he took no steps to make
sure. Next morning he ordered his dog-cart earlier
than usual, dismissed it at the top of the High Street,
and proceeded on foot to Dodsworth's shop. He was
known to Mr. Dodsworth, and that respectable
person came forward and inquired of Mr. Lowe his
pleasure.
'It's a little private business,' said Mr. Lowe con-
fidentially. "Could you get rid of that boy ?' And
he pointed to a youthful assistant at the other end
of the counter.
Mr. Dodsworth obligingly got rid of the boy, and
returned to Mr. Lowe.
'The truth is, I am only an ambassador,' said Mr.
Lowe; “I've come for a lady.'
'Indeed,' said Mr. Dodsworth.
'The young lady who sold you a beryl necklace
yesterday between five and six o'clock.'


THE BERYL STONES
79
Would you call it a necklace ?'
What would you call it ?'
'Some unset, roughly-cut crystals strung on seed
pearls of no value.'
Not of much value, perhaps,' said Mr. Lowe, who
had no desire to raise the price of the gems; 'but
the young lady wants them back again. You know
what women are; they need a little money in a
hurry, and they will go any lengths to get it. If the
young lady's father knew she had come here with
that old necklace, there would be the devil to pay.
I must get it back for her.'
'I thought there was something queer about that
necklace,' said Mr. Dodsworth, with solemn delight
in his own intuition. “Such a night as it was ...
and the young lady wet through ... and as white
as her gown. To tell the truth, seeing her dressed
out in a summer gown on a winter night, and
knowing about the wedding at Boyes Court, the
thought just crossed my mind that ... well, I
took the precaution, as she has no doubt told
you. ...
He stopped short. A very slight quiver of satis-
faction in Mr. Lowe's face set him on his guard-a
moment too late.
‘She has told me everything, of course,' said Mr.
Lowe. 'I want the necklace, and I want the paper
you made her sign.'
'Who was the young lady ? asked the jeweller.
'Don't you know ?'
‘Of course I know.'
Mr. Lowe reflected for an instant, and he came to
o tell th through snt as it


80
THE BERYL STONES
the conclusion that Ursula must be known by sight
and name to every tradesman in Linham.
'It was Miss French,' he said.
'It was,' said Mr. Dodsworth; "and I don't alto-
gether like the look of it. If Miss French wants her
necklace back, why doesn't she come for it her-
self ?'
Mr. Lowe glanced at his watch.
'I haven't much time to waste,' he said. “Are
we going to do business? If you'd rather not, I'll
tell Miss French she must see you again herself.'
'It would be more satisfactory.'
Not for you. I am prepared to give you a good
price. If you insist on dealing with the young lady,
you must take what you can get out of her, and that
won't be much. I am only going to pay if I can
manage the matter myself. I don't want her to know
what it costs me, either. These little transactions
are delicate sometimes. It's my object to keep the
whole thing quiet, and if you consider the alterna-
tive, your interest is to keep quiet too. You see,
if it got about that you had swindled the young
lady--
* Sir! interrupted Mr. Dodsworth.
'Well,' said Mr. Lowe, you don't call two or
three pounds. ...
'Five pounds; and business is business.'
'Quite so; I'm a business man myself, and I do
the trick whenever I can. But you know how cen-
sorious people are in a little country place like this
... the old women and the parsons, and so on ...
and you a guardian and a churchwarden.'


THE BERYL STONES
81
'Excuse me, sir,' said Mr. Dodsworth; "the young
lady brought me the necklace at night, and, after a
cursory inspection, I gave her five pounds for it.
Next day I certainly....!
'That's all right,' said Mr. Lowe. “I've a train to
catch. What will you take now ?'
'For the necklace ?
'For the necklace and the young lady's signature.'
'I don't see what you want that for.'
“I buy both or neither. And I have to catch the
up express.'
'I should like to consider the question,' said Mr.
Dodsworth. 'Suppose you call in on your way
home this afternoon ?'
'It's now or never,' said Mr. Lowe.
He did not look anxious ; in fact, he stood with
his face half-turned towards the door, as if he was
thinking more of his train than of the incomplete
transaction. Mr. Dodsworth knew that he was the
young gentleman from Clarion Towers, and that his
father was in the city and very affluent. The
jeweller scented a girlish scrape and a love affair, and
he suddenly made up his mind.
Of course, I like to be obliging, sir,' he said ;
but, being a business man myself, you'll appreciate
my predicament. I bought the necklace fair and
square last night for five pounds; this morning I
discover it to be worth at least fifteen, and I can't
take a penny less. I'm just as much in my rights as
the gentlemen who pick up a first edition for two-
pence and sell it for twenty pounds. If you don't
take your luck when it comes, you don't deserve it.'


82
THE BERYL STONES
'Let me have a look at the necklace,' said Mr.
Lowe.
Mr. Dodsworth produced it from a locked drawer
behind him, and handed it to Mr. Lowe.
Know anything about this sort of stone, sir ?' he
asked.
' A little; these are beryls, and not first-rate.
'Fifteen pounds is the least I can take, and it's
only to oblige you and the young lady. I dare say
some of those London people who have a sale for this
sort of stuff ... Goodyear or Liberty. ...?
But Mr. Lowe had already filled in a cheque with
his Swan pen, and torn it from his cheque-book.
Get the paper the young lady signed,' he said ;
and his manner implied that Mr. Dodsworth talked
too much.
'I hope I'm doing right,' said the jeweller, coming
back from the desk with the paper Ursula had signed
in his hands. “I suppose you really do come from
the lady ?'
Mr. Lowe took the paper, glanced at it, and gave
the cheque in exchange.
"What is the young lady to you, anyhow ?' he
said, putting the necklace into his pocket. 'You've
done very well for yourself.'
He walked out of the shop without giving Mr.
Dodsworth time to reply, and he left the jeweller
in a mixed state of mind-glad to have sold the
beryls so quickly, but rather uneasy as to the
future adventures of Ursula's signature, and a little
anxious lest the bargain, in spite of appearances, had
closed greatly to Mr. Lowe's advantage.
He way well for yoursanto his por


THE BERYL STONES
83
Mr. Lowe caught his up express, and was in Cheap-
side before eleven o'clock. The first thing he did
was to go into a chemist's shop, and buy some well-
known lozenges that are packed in brass boxes.
Then he went to his office, removed the chemist's
label, threw the lozenges into the fire, and packed the
necklace with some cotton-wool in the box. He
found a strong-lined envelope, addressed it with
his typewriter to Mrs. Hardwick, and, after giving
some instructions to a clerk, went out again to the
nearest district messenger-office. He was not known
there.
'Do you want to earn half a sovereign for your-
self ?' he said to the boy who came forward.
The boy said he did, and Mr. Lowe gave him his
orders. He was to take a hansom, and catch the
11.45 to Linham. At Linham he was to take
another cab, and drive to the address on this parcel,
and deliver it at the front-door without asking or
answering any questions. He was to come back by
the three o'clock express.
'It's a bet, and several people are in it,' said Mr.
Lowe. 'If you talk to anyone at Linham or at the
house, I shall know, and you won't get your half-
sovereign. Be under the big clock at Waterloo at
six, and you'll have it if you've earned it.'
At six o'clock the boy was there, looking very well
pleased with himself.
'I done it just as you said, sir,' he began ; nipped
into a cab at Linham, and told 'im to stop five
minutes short of the house. A cab's such an elephant
to ’ave about if you want to look slippy. So I
6-2


84
THE BERYL STONES
walked up to the front-door and rang, and two
gentlemen answered the bell. I just said “For
Mrs. ’Ardwick," and was up and gone before they
had time to pull theirselves together. I met a tele-
graph-boy crawling away from the 'ouse as I drove up
to it, by the way. I didn't say a word to a 'uman
bean in the place, sir. Thank you, sir.'
Mr. Lowe had spent about seventeen pounds that
morning on the slip of paper in his pocket, but he did
not grudge the money. He had not made up his
mind yet how he would put the screw on Ursula, but
his resentment fed on the thought that he could do
so at any moment. It would be unpleasant for the
Hardwicks, too, and he detested the Hardwicks.
The airs Grace gave herself would evaporate when
she was own cousin to a thief. Perhaps he would
conduct the affair with great privacy, admitting the
family only to his knowledge, and using the intimate
secret between them for his social advancement. If
they would not play his game, they would have to
pay for their stupidity in public disgrace. Mean-
while, the sense of power gave Mr. Lowe deep satis-
faction.
But the same night he had a scare that drove every
consideration out of his mind, except the supreme
one of his own prosperity. He was roused in the
small hours by his stepmother, who requested him to
come at once and prevent his father from commit-
ting suicide.
‘He's been speculating again,' said Mrs. Lowe.
' He says he's ruined, and he wants to drown himself
in the artificial lake. He's dressing now.'


THE BERYL STONES
85
.
Mr. Lowe got up in a hurry, and went out to reason
with his father. He looked gloomy and angry when
he returned to the morning-room, where Mrs. Lowe
awaited him.
'He has gone to bed again,' he said. There was
a tray with spirits and soda-water on the table, and
he mixed himself some before he spoke again.
'He's done it this time,' he said soon ; ' every-
thing has gone. Old fool !
‘But he always pulls round again,' said Mrs.
Lowe. 'Your father has been ruined three times
since I've known him. What's the good of
taking it so seriously? Why doesn't he get used
to it ?
'He never does,' said Mr. Lowe. “Besides, it's
worse than usual this time; he is done for.
Couldn't you have seen it coming and prevented
it ?' said Mrs. Lowe ; but her stepson turned on her
with a snarl.
'Do you think I want to be beggared ?' he said.
' He has always kept me in the dark, and now he has
made away with every penny. It's a downright
swindle.'
'I don't see that,' said Mrs. Lowe. 'It's his own
money he loses ; you've never made much.'
‘A man's money isn't his own when he has chil-
dren. I've been brought up as the son of a rich
man; now I'm a pauper. It's abominable !
Mrs. Lowe had been a good deal upset by her
husband's despair, but she did not seem to trouble
much about his ruin. She looked at Crampton with
a sort of good-humoured contempt.


86
THE BERYL STONES
'You're a selfish beast !' she said. “Fancy think-
ing about your own losses when the poor old man
nearly went out and drowned himself . . . such a
night as it is, too.'
'You'll think of yourself when you have to turn
out of this house and live hugger-mugger again,' said
Mr. Lowe. 'He plays the goat, and we have to
suffer for it.'
Mrs. Lowe refilled her glass with brandy and soda,
and carried it with her out of the room.
'It will send him to sleep, maybe,' she said.


CHAPTER IX
For the next few days Ursula hardly left her father's
bedside. She could find no comfort and no pardon
except in his life, which would surely have gone out
if she had not brought him food. Every day that
he survived helped her to wrestle with the despair
to which she had succumbed when she woke next
morning, no longer in a fever, no longer blind with
wrath, no longer bold with the wine so heedlessly
administered to her tired, starving body. Besides,
it was still Death that she was fighting, and who
engages with him has neither mind nor strength for
this world's concerns. As she hung over her father,
if she remembered that she had put herself out-
side the pale, she still thought it was worth while.
He lived, his eyes lovingly met hers, and when
she took his hand she thought that whatever
shame and suffering lay before her she could never
look back at these hours and hold them dearly
bought.
For the first few days after the wedding, Mr.
French had expected his sister to visit him, and had
been so greatly troubled because she did not come
that Ursula's anger against her aunt was fierce
[ 87 ]


88
THE BERYL STONES
again. Yet she dreaded the sight of her, and desired
above all things to avoid meeting her face to face.
When she took the necklace, and when she sold it,
she had not looked forward at all. Her mind had
been too blurred and weary to see what must needs
happen next. But the night, sleepless as it was,
had cleared it, and she saw discovery to be inevitable.
Every step that came near the cottage made her
shiver. Many more days she knew her father had
not, and she was haunted and tortured by the fear
that she might be dragged from him before the end,
and that he might be told how and why. She
expected to be arrested and imprisoned, not so much
by her aunt's desire as in the natural course of the
law. The theft must by now have been discovered,
must be in the hands of the police, and Ursula
recognised that no Sherlock Holmes was wanted to
get on the track of her blundering crime. All the
issues of it, and especially the suffering it would
cause Thomas and her father, now rose in her
imagination with accusing force, as the features of
the slain rise before the horror-stricken fancy of a
murderer. If she went to the depths, Thomas could
not stand aside, but must needs agonize with her,
and Thomas had done nothing wrong. There came
an hour when she thought she could bear exposure
better than this harrowing suspense, and when the
temptation to confess and take the consequences was
almost irresistible. But for her father's sake she
set her lips to silence and went on. Even Thomas
could see that she was near a breakdown. The
doctor saw it, too, and asked questions he had never


THE BERYL STONES
89
asked before. What friends and relations had they
he wanted to know ?
'We have no friends,' said Ursula.
Have you no relations ?'.
“We have an aunt.'
Where does she live ?'
About four miles from here.'
What is her name ?'
Mrs. Hardwick.'
'You don't mean Mrs. Hardwick of Boyes Court ?'
Ursula replied that she did mean her. The
doctor stared, and when he got home he wrote to
Mrs. Hardwick. He did not know her, but he had
often driven past her park palings.
He did not much care whether he gave offence
or not, for he was very angry. He explained to the
lady that her brother had not a week to live, and
that her brother's children were in extreme distress
and anxiety. He mentioned that except in their
father's room they had not had a fire since Christmas,
and he added that they would have been better fed
and warmed this winter in the workhouse than at
home. He blamed them severely in his letter) for
keeping these things hidden from their aunt, who
was no doubt ready to assist them.
Mrs. Hardwick came down unsuspiciously to
breakfast, and found this upsetting communication
on her plate. She turned very red as she glanced
at it, and passed it on to Grace.
We won't say anything to father,' decided Grace ;
'he fusses. so, and would probably say we were to
blame. I am sure we are not. It is impossible to


90
THE BERYL STONES
act on anything Ursula says; she is so emotional.
Uncle Matthew ought to have written or come him-
self.'
‘ Either this doctor is acting in an officious way,
and in ignorance of the facts, or else your uncle has
somehow made away with his money,' said Mrs.
Hardwick. What has become of his two thousand
pounds ? My little fortune is not only intact, but,
through judicious management, has more than
doubled itself since my marriage. I have never
failed to invest the dividends as they came in. But
my brother was always improvident, and in the end
the provident people invariably suffer for the others.'
'That is an injustice to which I should never
submit,' said Grace. “I should not be a bit sur-
prised if Ursula harboured the disgraceful idea that,
because we are comfortably off, we ought to assist
her. Mr. Sheringham is a millionaire, but I don't
expect him to buy me what I can't afford, and I
don't grudge him his money. If my uncle has two
thousand pounds, as you say, why need we take any
notice of this meddling letter ?'
Mrs. Hardwick said that the whole affair was
very annoying, but that she would have the carriage
after lunch and drive to Gorse Common to see her
brother. Grace said she would go too, as she had
some shopping to do in Linham.
'I hope you won't get a bad chill,' she said to her
mother as they were starting; and Mrs. Hardwick
vaguely felt that it was of a piece with the rest of
her brother's conduct to die in such weather, and
that relations who are a failure belittle you in the


THE BERYL STONES
91
eyes of your children, when the children are as flaw-
less as Grace.
Even with the help of fur rugs and hot-water tins
it was a chilly drive, and when Mrs. Hardwick
arrived at the cottage she had to walk through some
snow to the front-door. She knocked, but no one
came, so she went in, followed by Grace.
'What a miserable-looking place it is !' said Grace
with a shiver, looking round at the denuded living-
room and the empty grate. The door into the
kitchen stood ajar, and from where they stood they
saw that there, too, the hearth was cold.
' It is just as if they were away from home,' said
Mrs. Hardwick. “Where is their servant ? They
always kept one. How silly of Ursula not to have
fires in such weather! Illness is more costly than
fuel. Why is the house so quiet ? Has my
brother suddenly recovered, and have they all gone
out ?'
Nothing would surprise me in that way,' said
Grace. “It has always been a most happy-go-lucky
household.'
Mrs. Hardwick moved heavily towards the
kitchen, and looked more closely about there. She
even opened the larder door, and saw Ursula's
provisions—a loaf, a heel of cheese, a scrap of soup
meat, and a small jug of milk.
They are not starving, then,' she said, pointing
to the shelf. “The doctor must have exaggerated.'
She turned as she spoke, and saw that Ursula had
come into the kitchen, and was looking at her.
Some people might have felt at a disadvantage, but


92
THE BERYL STONES
if Mrs. Hardwick did, she only showed it by an
increase in the acerbity of her manner.
“Where is your cook ?' she said. "We knocked,
and no one answered, so of course we came in.'
'I have had no servant since Susan left us in
December,' said Ursula.
'Who does the work ?"
“There isn't much to do.'
'I suppose there is cooking and cleaning,' said
Grace, who always addressed her cousin as if she
was dealing with a refractory and rather dull-witted
child.
Ursula did not answer. Her father was worse
this afternoon, and she wanted these people to go
and leave her alone with him. For the moment
she was past anger or fear, and as indifferent as a
stone to Grace and her airs.
'How is your father to-day ?" said Mrs. Hard-
wick.
'He is very ill,' said Ursula.
'Is he in bed ?"
'Yes.'
There was no irony in her tone, but the flatness
and brevity of her reply made it stinging. She
stood there patiently, asking nothing, hoping
nothing, evidently wishing them gone, and showing
no surprise at a question that was offensive in its
incredulity.
Where is Thomas ?' said her aunt.
He has gone for Dr. Harvey.'
'I consider Dr. Harvey an alarmist.'
Ursula had not asked her aunt and cousin to sit


THE BERYL STONES
93
down, but they did so now without invitation. She
saw that she was not going to get rid of them immedi-
ately.
'I am afraid I cannot stay down here any longer,'
she said ; 'but I expect Thomas back soon.'
"Wait a minute,' said Mrs. Hardwick. “Is your
father able to converse sensibly ?'
‘Not to-day. He is too ill.'
Mrs. Hardwick and Grace looked at each other,
and Grace spoke.
‘My mother has not driven four miles through
the snow to sit here and see no one, Ursula, she
said. “She wants exact information about my
uncle's condition. Your generalities tell us nothing.
She also wishes to ask him some questions about his
affairs, which she fears are in disorder.'
'If you want medical information you had better
wait and see Dr. Harvey,' said Ursula. “All I know
is that father has a disease of the heart, and is dying
of it. He cannot answer questions about his affairs,
because he is unconscious. I don't know whether
he will ever revive. Perhaps you would like to
come upstairs and look at him ?'
'That would do no good at all,' said Mrs. Hard-
wick. "You can probably tell me what I want to
know. When he made his unfortunate marriage
your father had a capital of two thousand pounds.
Is that intact ?
'No,' said Ursula ; ' every penny of it is spent.'
The silence with which her aunt and cousin received
this announcement told Ursula more woundingly
than any words could have done what they thought


94
THE BERYL STONES
of it. Through all her sorrow she felt the unpleasant-
ness of the confession, and felt it unreasonably as a
disgrace.
'I must go upstairs,' she said again.
Mrs. Hardwick sighed heavily as her niece left the
room.
'How often you see it in families ! she said
' The girls prosper and go up in the world, and the
boys come to grief. I am sure I have never caused
anyone an hour's anxiety, but poor Matthew has
always been in difficulties. This is a terrible state
of things !
“Terrible !' said Grace. 'Of course, now I under-
stand Dr. Harvey's allusion to the workhouse. No
doubt Ursula has chattered to Dick, Tom, and Harry,
and everyone knows that members of our family
are in this plight. What do you propose to do,
mother?
'I am sure I don't know,' said Mrs. Hardwick.
‘I wish there was a fire in one of these rooms. I
feel that I am taking a bad chill.'
"You must have a rug,' said Grace.
'It isn't worth while,' said Mrs. Hardwick; ‘I
shall go directly.'
But Grace went to the front gate, and told the
footman to bring the fur rug from the carriage. She
stood at the door and waited for it, because she did
not wish the man to come inside, and as she looked
across the common she was surprised to see a smart
dog-cart driving towards the cottage. At first she
thought it must belong to the doctor, but when it
came nearer she discovered that Mr. Lowe held the


THE BERYL STONES
95
reins, and that Thomas sat beside him. As they
drove up, her mother's carriage made way for them.
Mr. Lowe gave the reins to his groom, got down, and
helped Thomas down. Then he came towards Grace
across the trampled snow. She had to shake hands,
and Thomas had to ask him in. The three oddly-
assorted people entered the living-room together.
Mrs. Hardwick appeared from the kitchen and
allowed Grace to put the rug over her knees. A
moment later Ursula, having heard a buzz of voices,
came hurriedly down, and fell back in angry amaze-
ment at the sight of Mr. Lowe. He got up, and, in
full view of the others, offered her his hand. She
took it without looking at him, and let it go as
quickly as she could
Mr. Lowe was kind enough to give me a lift from
Linham,' explained Thomas. 'He picked me up
at Dr. Harvey's door.'
Ursula gave Mr. Lowe no thanks. She seemed
to take no notice of what Thomas said. She
asked when the doctor would come, and was told
that he was out, and not expected home till five
o'clock.
'Go up to father now,' she said to her brother.
“He is too ill to be left alone.'
'We must go,' said Mrs. Hardwick. It is such
bad weather for the horses, and Mr. Hardwick is so
unhappy when they get cold. I am sorry not to
have seen the doctor, Ursula, but I shall write to
him. Is there anything we can send you from
Linham ? A few grapes, perhaps. ...
Mrs. Hardwick got up weightily from her chair,


96
THE BERYL STONES
and Mr. Lowe assisted her by taking the rug. Grace
got up too, and Ursula followed her visitors to the
door.
By the way,' said Mr. Lowe suddenly, ‘did you
ever find that necklace ?'
Mrs. Hardwick's progress was arrested by the
question. She turned to answer.
We have kept the matter very quiet,' she said ;
'we were anxious it should not get talked of amongst
the servants and in the town. We can rely on
Wilson's discretion, and we have written to the few
people who knew about it. I forgot to write to you.
A most mysterious thing happened : the necklace
came back.'
'Really,' said Mr. Lowe, and he looked at Ursula.
Her eyes were wide and fixed; all colour had left her
lips; her face was tense with the shock of what she
heard.
'Yes,' pursued Mrs. Hardwick; "it was most
mysterious. We had just had a reply telegram
from Clara to say she had not taken the necklace,
when Wilson came in with a small parcel that he
said had been left without any name or message by
a London messenger-boy. The address was type-
written, and when we opened the parcel we found
a common little tin lozenge-box. Inside it was the
Sultan's necklace.'
“The Sultan's necklace ?' said Mr. Lowe.
“Yes,' said Mrs. Hardwick. “We had a letter
from Mr. Horace Hardwick the day after the
wedding. He mentioned the necklace in a post-
script. The Sultan of Madresan gave it him when


THE BERYL STONES
97
he was out there, and it is of some value. Horace
is not married, and Clara is his favourite niece, so
he gave it to her. We were all terribly upset until
it turned up. To tell the truth, we took it for
trumpery before the letter came.'
'I told you they were good stones,' said Mr.
Lowe.
'Yes, you were right about them,' said Grace.
Uncle Horace calls them beryl stones. They are
worth about a hundred pounds. You can get a
beryl necklace for less than that, but these are
rather good ones.'
'It certainly is an odd story,' said Mr. Lowe.
“How do you explain it ?'
'The explanation is quite simple,' said Grace in
her little cocksure way. Someone took it, and
got frightened . . . probably tried to sell it in
London, and met with difficulties on account of its
value.'
"You have made no further inquiries ?'
'There are none to make. We have the necklace,
and not the ghost of a clue. As far as we are
concerned the episode is ended.'
'Unless you ever came on a clue.'
'In that case,' said Mrs. Hardwick, 'I should
spare no pains to expose and punish the criminal.
I should consider it a duty I owed to every
innocent person who was in my house at the
time.'
*That is rather my view,' said Mr. Lowe. 'For
the sake of the innocent the guilty must be brought
to justice. You may light on a clue at any moment.


98
THE BERYL STONES
The thief was probably not an old hand, and a
novice in crime nearly always blunders.'
"Whoever did it will probably steal again, and
perhaps be caught,' said Grace. “Once a thief,
always a thief.'
' A hard saying, but a true one,' said Mr. Lowe.


CHAPTER X
URSULA stood just within the porch while Mr. Lowe
put her aunt into her carriage, and, after exchanging
a few words with both ladies, drove off in his dog-cart.
She was trembling so violently that she could not
stir yet, and when she saw that Grace was coming
back to the house she clung to the lintel of the door,
and hoped her cousin had only forgotten something,
and would not speak to her again. Her teeth were
chattering, her knees would not support her, and
her thoughts were in such a turmoil that she stared
confusedly at Grace, and hardly heard what she
said.
My mother wishes to know if you are in imme-
diate want of money,' Grace was saying. “We
could not ask you while that insufferable little man
was present. Can we send anything from Linham-
ice, or Brand's essence, or brandy, for instance ?'
No, thank you,' said Ursula.
Grace had never thought much of her cousin, and
she thought less than ever of her to-day.'
‘She looks quite daft,' she said impatiently to her
mother when she got back to the carriage.' 'I
could get nothing out of her. But she says they
[ 99 ] - 7-2


100
THE BERYL STONES
have all they want, and no doubt it is true. Those
thriftless people usually get things somehow.'
'I shall write to Dr. Harvey to-night, and request
him to come and see me,' said Mrs. Hardwick.
• After his officious letter the least he can do is to
supply me with the facts of the case. Of course,
if there is real necessity your father and I must help.'
'People like that ought not to manage their own
affairs,' said Grace. “If my uncle's money had
been invested for him, and he had been obliged to
live on the interest, this trouble would never have
arisen. It is not as if he had used it well. The
children have had no education, and cannot support
themselves. What is to become of them ?'
This was such a difficult and disagreeable question
that Mrs. Hardwick did not attempt to answer it.
She said the cold and fatigue of the drive made her
sleepy, and that she would shut her eyes. Grace
opened a monthly review, and tried to read an
article on Municipal Socialism; but it was full of
figures, and in the waning light they were difficult
to see. By the time the ladies reached home they
were both cold and sleepy, and glad of their tea-glad,
also, to shake off the uncomfortable impressions of
the afternoon. When Mr. Hardwick came in, how-
ever, he resuscitated them. He asked after his
brother-in-law.
"We are no wiser than we were before,' Grace
said. "We did not go up and see Uncle Matthew,
and Ursula only said what she said six weeks ago,
that her father was very ill. Mother is going to
write to Dr. Harvey to-night.'


THE BERYL STONES
IOI
'But did you find out if they had all they wanted ?'
said Mr. Hardwick, who was a fidgety, ineffective
gentleman, but not avaricious or unkind.
'I asked Ursula, and she told me they wanted
nothing,' said Grace.
‘Then I don't understand Dr. Harvey's letter,'
said Mr. Hardwick. 'I shall write to him myself,
and ask him what the devil he means.'
'Oh, don't fuss so, John,' said his wife. After
dinner I will write to Dr. Harvey, and whatever is
necessary shall be done. Matthew is my brother.'
'H-m !' said Mr. Hardwick, and he managed to
put a good deal of meaning into that inarticulate
retort. It seemed to him that his wife bore her
brother's troubles with singular fortitude, and he
knew that Grace could be as hard as nails. How-
ever, he did nothing that night, and next day they
received a telegram in the middle of the morning
to say that Mr. French was dead.
It was Dr. Harvey who sent the telegram on his
own responsibility. Thomas had shown no desire
to communicate with Boyes Court, and Ursula was
not in a condition to make any arrangements.
When Grace left she had crept back to her father's
room, and had sat there hour after hour watching
him. Sleep was not near her, nor hunger, nor
thought for the morrow. In Death's presence the
needs and anxieties of life seemed of small account
and far away. Even the mysterious news about
the necklace only lay at the back of her mind, a
subconscious care for the time being. Her own
trouble hardly occupied her, while her heart, in its


102
THE BERYL STONES
affection and its weakness, went out to her father,
and could not keep him. Night came, night heavily
lingered, and still the brother and sister hung over
their beloved, wan and failing themselves, support-
ing each other. They were not sure of the moment
when their father died, he passed so quietly ; but at
dawn they knew, and without tears or speech they
crept away. They sat a little while together down-
stairs, and then went to their own rooms. When
the doctor arrived some hours later he found Thomas
shivering in the kitchen over a fire made with a few
sticks. He was trying to make a cup of tea for
Ursula.
'I am afraid she will die too,' he said.
When the doctor had seen her he thought she
would certainly die if she stayed in that stricken
house with neither food nor fire, and only Thomas,
ill and half starved himself, to nurse her. In his
pocket he carried a letter from Mrs. Hardwick asking
dictatorially for facts about her brother's condition,
asking, also, what grounds the doctor had for his
fancies about the privations her brother and his
children had undergone. She knew as little of them,
she said, as the doctor knew of the family history,
and she requested him to call at Boyes Court as
soon as possible and give her the information she
required.
"And when the little man comes I hope you will
snub him,' said Grace.
But the little man, who was the busiest doctor
in the county, happened to have something else
to do. He telegraphed to say that Mr. French had


THE BERYL STONES
103
died, and a few hours later, when he had seen Ursula
again, he telegraphed to say that, as he had no
instructions from Boyes Court, he was arranging to
send her to the workhouse infirmary that evening.
The second telegram fell first into Mr. Hardwick's
hands, and, bad as the weather was for horses, he
ordered the carriage round at once, and drove to
the cottage himself. No one answered his knock,
so he walked in. The ground-floor was deserted.
It sent a shiver through him to see so bare and
desolate a place. He went upstairs, and opened
the first door to hand. His brother-in-law lay
there, his delicate features impressive and dignified
in death. Mr. Hardwick gently closed the door,
and went on to another room, where he found
Ursula in bed. Her cheeks were crimson and her
eyes were open, but she did not seem to know him.
Thomas, huddled in a chair beside her, had fallen
asleep.
Good God !' said Mr. Hardwick, as he stared at
the brother and sister. He thought they must both
be about to die. Thomas had no colour in his
sunken cheeks, and he looked like pictures Mr.
Hardwick had seen of people who have starved.
‘Thomas,' he said, going up to the boy—‘Thomas,
why is there no fire ? What is the matter with
Ursula ?'
So Thomas woke, and found that at last help had
come to them. Mr. Hardwick did not leave until
he had put Mrs. Smiles in charge of the cottage, and
had left money in Thomas's hands. On his way
back through Linham he ordered coal and wine


104
THE BERYL STONES
and meat and groceries to be sent at once. Then
he called on Dr. Harvey, and whitewashed his wife
as well as he could. He made arrangements, too,
for his brother-in-law's funeral, and early next
morning he drove to the cottage again, and spent
some hours with his nephew and niece. He did
this every day for a week, and was a great help and
comfort to Thomas. Ursula seemed to know
nothing of what went on. Her eyes were often
open, but they were stupefied, and the painful hour
of her father's funeral came and went while her
mind was still a blank.
Mr. Hardwick did not say very much to his wife
and daughter, but they gathered from his manner
that he blamed them. They did not blame them-
selves.
'Some day when you can spare the carriage I
should like it myself ... in the afternoon,' said
Mrs. Hardwick, the day after her brother's burial.
She had not been present at it, but both Grace
and she were now correctly dressed in black. 'I
suppose I must go and see Ursula and Thomas,' she
continued. 'Have they any plans for the future?
Do they mean to stay on at the cottage in idleness ?'
Mr. Hardwick growled out something about
Ursula being too ill and Thomas too young and
ignorant to make plans.
“They ought to be asked here,' he said. “We
ought to take them in till they have had time to
look round. Can't you arrange it, Joanna ?'
'The kindest thing we could do for them would
be to help them earn a living,' said Grace. Any


THE BERYL STONES
105
other help is demoralizing, especially so when you
have to deal with shiftless, ill-taught people like
Thomas and Ursula.'
' I shall certainly make them an allowance,' said
Mr. Hardwick.
Money lightly got is lightly gone,' said Grace.
We shall be quite full for Easter,' said Mrs.
Hardwick. 'I could not make room for them long,
and they do not fit in with our friends. Besides,
when they are in such deep mourning a large, lively
house-party is unsuitable.'
' Ask them here for a couple of nights the week after
next,' said Grace a little later to her mother. 'It
is the proper thing to do, and will help us to settle
something reasonable for them. I am afraid father
is in one of his unreasonable moods. There is no
knowing what he has promised them.'
'He is so lavish!' sighed Mrs. Hardwick; "and the
younger children grow more expensive every year.
He actually said this morning that Charley might
as well go to a cheaper school than Eton because he
is not clever. I approve of charity, but not at the
expense of your children's education.'
Mrs. Hardwick and Grace drove to the cottage a
few days later, and found Ursula and Thomas both
downstairs. The tables and chairs were heaped
with books, and a catalogue was being made of them.
The brother and sister looked frail and sad, but not
as ill as before. They had a good fire and neat new
clothes. Thomas received his aunt and cousin
amiably, but Ursula's manner was colder than their
own. After a little conversation about Ursula's


106
THE BERYL STONES
health, Mrs. Hardwick delivered her invitation, and
said she thought the change would do her niece
good.
‘Besides,' she added, “I wish to discuss your
future plans with you.
We have made our plans,' said Ursula.
Her manner flurried Mrs. Hardwick-it was so
quiet, self-reliant, and unfriendly.
'I am surprised to hear it,' she said. “Your
uncle ought to have consulted me before making
any promise.'
Ursula treated these observations as if they
needed no reply. She looked pensively at the fire,
and did not speak
* Perhaps we shall find that your plans admit of
some modification, continued her aunt. “At any
rate, I shall expect you both at Boyes Court next
Tuesday week.
'Thank you very much for asking us,' said Ursula,
but we shall not be able to come.'
"We shall not be here,' explained Thomas.
Where will you be ?' said Grace.
"We are going to London,' said Ursula.
‘And pray what are you going to do in London ?'
said Mrs. Hardwick, getting rather red and angry.
* You will find life there very expensive.'
*This is a first edition of Ruskin's Poems,' said
Ursula, handing her aunt a small volume bound in
dull-green cloth. It is worth forty-two pounds.
We were starving, and never knew its value. There
is no bookseller in Linham. Father's old friend,
Professor Churchill, came to the funeral, and he


THE BERYL STONES
107
looked over our books. He is sending down some-
one to buy them to-morrow. We expect to get a
hundred and fifty, and to have a hundred left when
we have paid what we owe.'
'What is a hundred pounds ?' asked Mrs. Hard-
wick. “You and Thomas will not make it last long
in London. I am most anxious to put you both in
the way of earning a respectable living. You must
take a situation as nursery governess, Ursula. You
can't expect anything better, as you have had no
proper schooling, and are probably a poor needle-
woman in the bargain. Thomas must try to find a
small clerkship. He writes a good hand. You
can't live together, of course. The idea is ridiculous.'
“The hundred pounds ought to be invested, and
saved for a rainy day,' said Grace.
“What has my husband promised to do for you?
asked Mrs. Hardwick, who was apt to lose her
manners and her temper together.
'You had better ask him,' said Ursula.
This was provoking but conclusive. Mrs. Hard-
wick understood that the young people refused to
accept her hospitality or to discuss their plans with
her. She got up to go, and they made no effort to
detain her.
'If you refuse my advice I shall refuse you my
help, and I shall try to bring my husband to my
way of thinking,' she said by way of farewell.
She drove home in a state of ebullient wrath, and
sailed straight into her husband's study, determined
to know the worst at once. He was sitting over the
fire half asleep.


108
THE BERYL STONES
John,' she said, 'what have you promised to do
for Thomas and Ursula ? I think you should have
consulted me before making arrangements of which
Grace and I entirely disapprove.'
'I don't know what you are talking about,' said
Mr. Hardwick fretfully.
'I suppose you have promised them an allow-
ance ? You said you would.'
When I saw them this morning. . . . began
Mr. Hardwick, but his wife talked him down.
"You encourage them in this wicked idea of going
to London together. What do you think they will
do when they get there ?-just loaf about on your
money, and get into debt, and probably into
disgrace.'
Mr. Hardwick glanced at his wife as if she did
not please his taste, and at the moment, perhaps,
that was not surprising. She looked very large
and cross and masterful, and her voice was the
voice of a scold.
'I did my best this morning to persuade them to
take two hundred a year for five years,' he said.
'They refuse to take a penny, and they even talked
of paying back what I have spent for them. I am
shocked and grieved beyond words. I don't know
how the poor young things will get on, but I believe
they would rather die in the gutter than appeal to
anyone in this house for help again.'


IIO
THE BERYL STONES
its mysterious return; and she arrived, she hardly
knew how, at some suspicion that Mr. Lowe had
interfered in the affair. Mr. Dodsworth could, of
course, tell her in what way the necklace had left
his hands, but Ursula had not courage to ask
him.
One day, when she was sitting over the fire with
Thomas, there was a knock at the door, and Mr.
Lowe walked in. He carried a bunch of roses and
lilies of the valley that he presented to Ursula. He
inquired after her health, and then he sat down and
talked to the brother and sister with a sort of deter-
mined intimacy that both alarmed and angered
Ursula. He was curious to know their plans for the
future, and when Thomas let out that his sister
wanted to go on the stage, he offered Ursula some
introductions that might make the way a little easier
for her. She refused them. He turned to Thomas,
and asked the boy to take some trivial message to
his groom waiting with the dog-cart outside, and
directly he was alone with Ursula his tone changed
to one of still greater assurance and some hostility.
' Are you never going to forgive me ?' he said.
Would you respect me more if I did ?' said
Ursula.
'Oh, do you count on respect ?' said he.
A blow could hardly have been more startling or
more insolent. Ursula looked past him towards the
door, and her heart beat so tumultuously that she
could not speak. She did not know how frail she
looked, how young and how desirable.
'I'd far rather be your friend than your enemy,'


THE BERYL STONES
III
continued Mr. Lowe; the choice is in your own
hands.'
Ursula did not speak, and before the tension of the
moment became more oppressive Thomas returned.
Soon after Mr. Lowe got up and said good-bye,
promising, as he did so, to call soon again.
'You must reconsider my offer,' he said am-
biguously to Ursula. “It is still open, and I think
you will repent if you don't close with it.'
When Thomas came back from speeding his guest,
he was pained and puzzled to find Ursula crying as if
her heart would break-crying as she had never done
before, even when her father died. He could get
nothing out of her, except that she was tired and
had a headache, and that she detested Mr. Lowe.
‘But his introductions might have been useful,'
said Thomas; 'I am afraid you will find it impossible
to get on the stage without any."
'I will not be beholden to him. I would rather
work in a factory or a shop. I would rather be a
nursery governess. I don't want his flowers, though
I love flowers. Do you mind if I give them to Mrs.
Smiles, Thomas ?'
Thomas said he did not mind, and the flowers were
carried into the kitchen. It consoled Ursula to re-
member that she had not told Mr. Lowe how soon
she was going to London. When he called again
he would probably find her flown.
A few days later they had sold their little library,
arranged for the sale of their furniture, and paid all
their debts. Mr. Hardwick positively refused to
take back what he had expended for them, so they


112
THE BERYL STONES
had ninety pounds in hand, and expected to receive
about thirty pounds more. They were ready to
venture forth.
'I think I will go to Boyes Court and say good-
bye,' said Thomas the day before their start.
“Uncle John has been awfully decent since he knew,
and Aunt Joanna did lend you some money.'
She didn't !' exclaimed Ursula, and then checked
herself.
You've forgotten,' said Thomas. 'I don't think
you quite knew what you were doing or what hap-
pened the day you went over there. You were
rather queer when you came back.'
'I haven't forgotten,' said Ursula ; 'but don't
ever speak of that day either to me or to anyone at
Boyes Court. They were very unkind.
Thomas said he would remember, and went off.
He could not have managed the walk both ways, but
Mrs. Smiles' husband happened to be going past the
park gates with a load of hay from the farm on which
he worked, and had arranged to give Thomas a lift
there and back. It was late afternoon when Thomas
limped into the cottage again; he was full of talk,
and rather cheerful.
'I saw Uncle John and Aunt Joanna and the
children,' he said. "Grace was out, so the blight
was not as bad as usual. She was at Rivenhall
showing Lady Jocelyn how to manage a clothing
club. I hope you won't mind, Ursula, but I've
promised Uncle John to look up Clara and her
husband when we get to London. Monkton knows
everyone, he says, and might help me to work. If


THE BERYL STONES
113
I must make shoes, I will ; but, of course, if there is
a better job going, I'll take it. We must be sensible,
and make the most of our chances. Talking of
chances, I'm afraid yours are gone as far as Mr.
Lowe is concerned. An awful thing has happened
at Clarion Towers.'
Ursula, who had been listening rather languidly,
turned with startled attention towards her brother.
‘Old Lowe has killed himself, and they say it was
because he was ruined. The house and everything
in it will be seized by the creditors. Mrs. Lowe and
the young chap won't have a penny between them,
they say.'
'I suppose they are still at the Towers,' said
Ursula.
'No one seemed to know,' said Thomas. The
funeral had taken place two days ago. As he passed
through Linham, he had heard people talking of the
crash and the suicide. Of course, there had been an
inquest too. It must have happened just about the
time the young man called and brought the flowers.
Contradictory stories were afloat as to his where-
abouts and his responsibility. Some people said he
had involved his father in rash speculations ; some
said he had seen the smash coming and tried to
avert it.
Ursula sat by the fire, and pondered over this news.
Next day, without saying anything to Thomas, she
walked into Linham. Her strength had hardly come
back, and the two miles there took her a long time.
But it was a bright spring afternoon, and she sat
down more than once by the way. Larks were


116
THE BERYL STONES
did the gentleman come to know all about it, then ?
Why did he make such a point of getting back your
signature, and pay a bit extra for the pleasure of
carrying it away? He's saving it for your birthday,
perhaps, and the necklace too.'
My signature !' said Ursula. 'Has he got that ?'
'He has,' said Mr. Dodsworth ; 'he seemed to
attach great value to it . . . wouldn't have the
necklace without it. I didn't ask any questions, and
I'm not going to answer any. You must settle the
matter between yourselves; I wash my hands of it.?
Was it Mr. Lowe?' said Ursula in despair, and
for the first time her eyes fixed themselves on the
jeweller's face, to read his answer there.
'It was,' said Mr. Dodsworth ; "and that's my
last word.'
Ursula felt furious with the jeweller for having let
her signature go out of his possession, but she was
not in a position to rebuke him. She did not know
what to do next. Under the circurnstances, she
could not go to Clarion Towers, and she shrank from
any intercourse with Mr. Lowe. She had felt sure all
along that he had returned the necklace. She re-
membered his face as he opened the billiard-room
door and saw her bending over it. No doubt there
had been some hue-and-cry when its loss was dis-
covered ; no doubt he had acted on mere suspicion,
and found it justified. The insolent familiarity of
his manner was explained : he carried her damna-
tion with him he had her in his power. She won-
dered what his next step would be.
That evening, when they had made everything


THE BERYL STONES
117
ready for next day's start, the brother and sister sat
together in the dismantled room, a little hopeful and
eager, a little sad and tired. Thomas at an early
hour limped off to bed. Ursula sat on by the fire,
thinking of her father, of the future, and of the web
in which in a moment she had enmeshed herself. A
light knock at the door called her to her feet, and
she was hardly surprised, so much was he in her
thoughts, to see Mr. Lowe. He walked in there, and
sat down without invitation.
'I only have a few minutes,' he said ; 'I must
catch the last up-train. You know what has hap-
pened, of course ?'
'Yes, I know; I heard yesterday,' said Ursula.
She looked at his pallid, old-young face, as if she
expected to see there some shadow of sorrow that
would for the moment, at least, redeem and lift it;
but she failed so entirely to find what she sought that
she could add no word of sympathy to her bare reply.
She asked a question instead.
What is Mrs. Lowe going to do ? Is she going to
London with you ?'
'I'm only going to London on my way to Johan-
nesburg. I don't know what Mrs. Lowe is going to
domsell her jewels and fall on her feet, I dare say;
her kind usually does. She has a whole tribe of
cousins in London; some of them can look after her
a bit. I sail to-morrow.'
'Would a letter to Johannesburg find you ?
Where shall you stay there ?'
Ursula's hands were clasped on her knees, and she
was staring at the fire. She wanted to tell Mr. Lowe


118
THE BERYL STONES
that she owed him money ; she wanted to ask him
for the compromising paper in his possession ; but
she found it difficult to speak.
'I have come here to-night to ask you to go to
South Africa with me,' said Mr. Lowe. “There is no
time for you to pack much, but you can get some
things in London to-morrow and the rest out
there. I have a cab waiting, so you could take
a bag.'
‘Leave my brother and go to South Africa ...
with you! Are you mad ?' said Ursula.
I shall think you are if you refuse,' said Mr.
Lowe.
'I do refuse !' said Ursula firmly.
"I'll marry you.'
"Never !
'I shall make money out there ; you won't be
poor long.'
'I don't mind being poor.'
You seem to have found it inconvenient on one
occasion lately.'
'I want your address in Johannesburg,' said
Ursula, speaking with a catch in her voice and pale,
dry lips.
“What for ?'
'I believe I owe you money ; I want to send it.'
‘A mere trifle between you and me,' said Mr.
Lowe, waving his hand and smiling unpleasantly ;
'I am so pleased to have done you this little service.
Another hour, and your uncle would have gone
bleating to the police-station. The police would
have gone straight to the jewellers' shops, and come


THE BERYL STONES
119
on this solemn ass of a Dodsworth. I laugh now
when I think of him-knows about as much of his
trade as I know about making monuments. Sup-
poses he had the best of the bargain ... with me.
Did he tell you what I paid him ? I gather you
have been there again. Not very wise, you know.
The best thing you can do is to keep quiet and
follow me.'
What did you pay Mr. Dodsworth ?' said
Ursula.
'Fifteen pounds! and the beryls are worth a
hundred if they are worth a penny. If you weren't
coming with me, I'd ask you to let Dodsworth know
next time you see him.'
'I am not coming with you,' said Ursula. 'I
will send you the money soon, if you will let me have
an address. And will you. ...'
"No, I will not,' said Mr. Lowe with a hard laugh.
Then he looked at his watch.
'Are you coming ?' he said.
No,' said Ursula.
'Then I shall come and fetch you some other
time. I don't know when it will be-depends how I
get on; but you may count on my coming.'
* You may come and you may do your worst, but
I will never have anything to do with you,' said
Ursula ; and then, in her anger, she unwisely added :
'Any degradation would be more tolerable than
that.'
Mr. Lowe's anger rose with hers, and his glance
was both hostile and covetous.
"You shall live to eat your words ; I swear it !'


120
THE BERYL STONES
he cried. Then he went out, slamming the door
behind him. For a moment Ursula stood stock-
still, listening fearfully for some sound overhead
that should show Thomas had been wakened. But
the house was as silent as the night, and she heard
nothing but the tick of the clock, and presently the
wheels of Mr. Lowe's departing cab.


CHAPTER XII
The sun was shining on London when Thomas and
Ursula arrived there. They had never been in a big
city before, but Thomas had looked ahead as well as
he could, and had settled with Ursula what to do.
First, they put their trunks in the cloak-room; then
they set forth on foot, and walked over Waterloo
Bridge. They were not going to spend a penny on
fares. Thomas had bought a map, and when they
were more than half-way over the bridge they sat
down in one of the niches and opened it. He was
going straight to an address his uncle had given him,
the address of a former servant, who kept a respec-
table lodging-house in the neighbourhood of the
British Museum. Thomas had heard of the reading-
room at the Museum, and he thought it would be
agreeable to live within reach of it while he looked for
work. He was determined to work, and Ursula was
determined to support him, at first in penury, but
afterwards in comfort by her play-acting. She
hoped he would some day write books, and become
learned and famous. She thought he would occupy
a professorial chair with dignity, and that when she
began to earn money she might help him to get there
[ 121 ]


THE BERYL STONES
123
'I am glad we have come,' she said to Thomas ;
and she turned her head as she spoke, and looked up
the river at the Houses of Parliament and the Abbey.
Thomas folded his map, and stood up.
We ought to go,' he said ; 'we don't know yet
where we are to sleep to-night.
"" These pretty babes with hand in hand went
wandering up and down," said Ursula. 'If I
didn't stare about and enjoy myself, I should feel
afraid ; and if once I began to feel afraid, I should
sit down and cry.'
'Don't let Fear in,' said Thomas quickly ; 'we
have no use and no time for him. We can't go back
to Gorse Common, and we can't go to Aunt Joanna
and beg for crumbs from her table.'
'No,' said Ursula with energy; and she followed
Thomas across the Bridge into the Strand and Wel-
lington Street. There she saw the Lyceum, with
posters announcing that Mr. Forbes Robertson and
Mrs. Patrick Campbell would play in 'For the
Crown' that night. Thomas could hardly get her
past them. But they had to go on through the
grimy neighbourhood lying between the Strand and
Oxford Street. It shocked and sobered them to see
what an ugly outside poverty carries in a great
city.
‘Shall we have to live in some such place as this ?'
said Ursula.
But when they reached Oxford Street and then
the squares, their spirits rose again.
'If Mrs. Smith will let us have two attics, we shall
do,' said Ursula, as they arrived at the house they


124
THE BERYL STONES
were seeking. 'I wonder what two furnished attics
cost in a square like this?
"We shall soon find out,' said Thomas, as he rang
the bell. He asked a stout, cheerful-looking woman
who answered it for Mrs. Smith. The woman said
she was Mrs. Smith, and asked them in. She wel-
comed them when she heard who they were, and said
she could let them a sitting-room and two small bed-
rooms for two and a half guineas, with the usual
extras. While she stated her terms, she looked
curiously at the brother and sister, whose clothes,
considering their relationship to Mrs. Hardwick,
were rather cheap and plain. But they both spoke
nicely, and had the manners of 'gentry'-points on
which she was a shrewd judge.
‘Do you mean two and a half guineas ... a
month ?' said Ursula. 'I am afraid. ...
'Two and a half guineas a week,' said Mrs. Smith.
The ignorance of young ladies and gentlemen never
surprised her ; she had lived too long in the best
families for that. 'I suppose you have some
luggage ?' she continued. And should you want
the rooms for long ?
'I'm afraid we can't take them at all,' said Ursula
regretfully; for she liked the look of Mrs. Smith and
her house. They are too dear.'
What did you want to give, m'm ? Perhaps we
could come to some arrangement . . . especially if
it was to be permanent.'
'I don't think so,' said Ursula hurriedly and
shyly. 'I am afraid we must find a much smaller
house in a poorer neighbourhood.'


THE BERYL STONES
125
'You see, in the country you can get a smail
cottage with a garden and a barn for about half a
crown a week,' explained Thomas.
You can't get a cellar for that here,' said Mrs.
Smith.
But what do poor people do ?' asked Ursula.
'Live like pigs,' said Mrs. Smith; 'but then they
are used to it.'
“There must be some poor people who are not
pigs,' said Ursula, getting up to go. “How do
artisans live in London ?
Mrs. Smith naturally felt puzzled. Many years ago,
before Mr. French came to Gorse Common, she had
been upper housemaid at Boyes Court, and now she
could not understand why Mr. Hardwick's niece
should want to regulate her budget by that of a
London artisan.
"You won't get cheaper rooms than mine, m'm,'
she said—not rooms that would be suitable.'
Ursula looked out of the windows at the trees in the
square. Mrs. Smith looked at the delicate, lame boy,
who seemed to think they ought to go now. He stood
near the door, and signed to his sister to join him.
'You look very good-natured,' said Ursula,
turning suddenly to the astonished Mrs. Smith;
' perhaps you would be willing to help us. You see,
my brother and I have come to London to earn our
living, and we have hardly any money and no friends.
We want to find two clean little rooms at the top of
a house. We shan't want any attendance. We
have thought it all out. I am going to buy a kettle
and one or two pans and brushes. ...!


126
THE BERYL STONES
Mrs. Smith sat down ; her limbs would not
support her under the shock of such an announce-
ment as this.
"Well, I never !' said she. “And does Mrs.
Hardwick know of this ?
"We are quite independent,' said Ursula. 'I am
going on the stage.'
‘Oh, indeed !' said Mrs. Smith, with a sudden
increase of friendliness ; 'my daughter belongs to
the profession.'
Where does she act ?? asked Ursula, interested
too.
Thomas, seeing that the interview was prolonging
itself, came away from the door, and sat down.
'She doesn't exactly act,' said Mrs. Smith ; ' I'm
not sure as I should approve of that. She sells pro-
grammes at the Thalia. I think I'll just call her
upstairs. She goes about a lot more nor what I do,
and she may know of something to suit you.'
Mrs. Smith went to the top of the kitchen stairs,
and called loudly for Blanche. She presently ap-
peared with a young lady whose coiffure suggested
that she had been competing with a tribe of fuzzy-
wuzzies, and had gained the first prize. Her manner
was not as simple as her mother's ; like her voice, it
was pert and cockneyfied. At first she looked past
Ursula with the air of artificial disdain that girls of
her class use both as an adornment and a weapon ;
but when her mother explained what Ursula wanted,
and pointed out that the two girls were in a sense
colleagues, Miss Smith thawed slightly.
'One of our young ladies lives near here,' she said,


THE BERYL STONES
127
addressing her mother. 'She happened to mention
only yesterday that they had lost some lodgers owing
to a difference about fried onions. Very superior
people they are, though, of course, they live in a small
way; Miss Hopkins says her mother prefers it.
They don't care to cook and clean for other people.
Two rooms is what they let off, and she asked me to
think of her if I heard of anyone. Of course, I said
we never did come in contact with the class of people
who rent empty rooms and do for themselves.'
'Do you know what the rooms were to be a week ?'
asked Thomas.
'I do not ; we didn't go into any particulars.'
* You spoke of empty rooms; do you mean un-
furnished ?
'That is what is usually meant by empty—in
London,' said Miss Smith. “But the house is near
here; I'll step round there with you if you like.'
The brother and sister gratefully accepted this
offer, and Miss Smith put on her hat. She took
them by devious ways and turnings to a narrow little
street, that was quiet when the many children who
lived there were in bed, and noisy when they were
not. They stopped at a house that had clean white
curtains at the ground-floor window and a clean step
at the front-door. The door was opened by a young
lady with her front hair done up in row upon row of
Hinde's curlers. She looked surprised to see Miss
Smith, but addressed her as 'dear,' and invited her
to bring her friends inside, and excuse the room being
littered with dressmaking.
'Don't take us there, then, dear,' said Miss Smith;


128
THE BERYL STONES
'I know you're busy with your ball-dress. We
want to see the rooms you have to let ; this lady and
gentleman are looking out for some.'
Miss Hopkins glanced doubtfully at Ursula, whose
head nearly touched the ceiling of the narrow hall.
The last lady and gentleman did for themselves,
you know,' she said to Miss Smith; we never give
attendance. The use of the oven and the copper we
don't object to in reason, but I don't call it reason-
able to wash a gentleman's shirt on a Saturday night,
when he has been carrying coal all the week and you
have just cleaned up. That is what Mrs. Skinner
did, and we had words about it, and also about
cooking fried onions on a Sunday afternoon, when
we had several ladies and gentlemen to tea. As I
said to Mrs. Skinner, what I hate is vulgarity of any
kind, and, though very well in their place, of a
Sunday afternoon fried onions are vulgar.'
Ursula was fascinated. She had never seen any-
one like this before, and she listened as if Miss
Hopkins spoke with the tongue of angels. She could
have mimicked her to the life as she followed her
upstairs.
'We have had to have the rooms painted and
papered ; they were in such a mess,' said Miss
Hopkins. "I have had one done all white, like the
Duchess's boudoir in "The Duke's Whim.” Mother
thinks it's a mistake, but white is so fashionable, and
I shall be very careful whom I take this time. She
turned suddenly to Thomas as they reached the top
of the stairs. "You're not in the coal line, I sup-
pose ?' said she..


THE BERYL STONES
129
Thomas assured her he was not.
‘Perhaps you're a clurk,' she ventured again; for
she could not quite place Thomas. With his lame
leg, he could not be behind a counter, and his
clothes and bearing showed that he was not an
artisan.
* The lady is going on the stage, interposed Miss
Smith.
'Take my advice and don't,' said Miss Hopkins ;
"the ups and downs are something cruel. I see a lot
of it situated as I am. Now, programmes are always
wanted, and if you get into a theatre that's open
eleven months in the year, you know where you are.
Have you an engagement yet, may I ask ?
'I don't even know how to set about getting one,'
said Ursula. She hesitated a little, and then she
added : “My brother and I have some money, but as
we don't know yet how we shall get on, we want to
start in a very quiet way.'
'Mother knows all about the young lady's family
in the country,' said Miss Smith.
'I see,' said Miss Hopkins cheerfully, and she
threw open her rooms. One was about twelve feet
square, and one was a good deal smaller ; but they
were clean and cheerful, and had no other rooms
near them. Ursula inquired the price, and found
that she could have the two for eight shillings a week,
if she would agree not to use the kitchen fire on
Sunday afternoons.
'We find it so inconvenient when Mr. Tibbets is
here,' explained Miss Hopkins to her friend. “Mrs.
Skinner, she used to come down with a frying-pan


130
THE BERYL STONES
and herrings. As he said, a lady should have more
tact. You know how fastidious he is.'
'I know what good taste he has,' said Miss Smith ;
and, amidst the smiles and good-humour called forth
by this allusion, the bargain was concluded. The
brother and sister had a roof to their heads.
The next consideration was furniture, and here,
too, Miss Smith rose to the occasion. She took them
to a big emporium in the Tottenham Court Road,
where they bought two narrow wooden bedsteads,
that need not look quite like bedsteads by day. Then
they went to a second-hand shop, and found a table
and chairs, and some other necessaries. Ursula had
a little plate and linen in her trunk, she said, and a
few old curtains, which she meant to turn to many
uses.
Some day we will buy carpets and two chests of
drawers,' she said to Thomas that night, as they sat
together in the bigger room. They had been very
busy all day, and they felt hopeful and tired. Ursula
had just made tea and boiled eggs in a spirit-lamp.
Even the peculiar flavour of London eggs had not
distressed them much.
‘To-morrow,' said Ursula, 'I am going to see agents
and managers. Perhaps I shall come back with an
engagement.'
'We ought to call on the Monktons soon,' said
Thomas.
What for ?'
'To let them know we are here.'
'I don't want them to know I am here, for their
sakes as well as for my own. It would not be pleasant


THE BERYL STONES
131
for Clara, and it would be hateful to me. Miss Hop-
kins and Miss Smith are the people for us. We had
much better face that, and make the best of it.'
Thomas did not try to convince his sister, but
when Sunday afternoon came he found his way to
Cadogan Place, and called on the Monktons. He
thought Sunday was a good day to go, because he
wanted to see Mr. Monkton, and, if possible, intro-
duce the question of work. In later life, when his
thoughts went wandering backwards, he used some-
times to wonder what shape his way through the
world would have taken if he had not gone to
Cadogan Place that particular Sunday afternoon,
when Mr. Langford, of Langford, Udall, and Morton,
was calling there, and when the conversation hap-
pened to turn on the true composition of the Union
Jack. It was Clara who began the argument, and
brought out paper and coloured chalks. At that
time the Boer War had not made everyone well
acquainted with the national flag, and she wanted
a correct sketch for some bazaar pin-cushions. Her
husband could not remember much about it, nor
could Mr. Langford, nor could two or three other
people present; so Thomas took the chalks and
drew the flag for Clara, explaining its formation as
he went on. He grew interested, his usual shyness
fell from him, and as the talk turned on flags, he drew
others and described them.
Mr. Langford watched him, and presently asked
where he was at school, and what he meant to be.
Thomas replied that he had never been to school, and
had not yet entered on a career. He did not like to
9-2


132
THE BERYL STONES
say he thought of making boots ; it seemed hardly
fair to the Monktons. But when he had gone, Mr.
Langford asked question upon question about the
extraordinarily clever lame boy who knew the history
of remote nations, and could describe a naval battle
as if he had seen it. He was much concerned to hear
that he had neither means nor prospects. He took
his address, and next day he sent for Thomas to come
and talk to him in Lincoln's Inn Fields. He ex-
plained in what way a man can work his way up in
the law without incurring the heavy expenses of a
legal education, and he offered Thomas a start in his
office, with a commencing salary of twelve shillings
a week.
'I'm settled for life,' said Thomas, when he got
back to Ursula ; but he spoke soberly, and with some
understanding of the drudgery before him.
So am I,' said Ursula ; "they have taken me on
at the Sheridan, and will pay me a pound a week and
find my costume. It is all through that good-
natured Miss Hopkins ; she has a friend amongst the
dressers there, and heard there was a vacancy, and
spoke to the stage-manager for me. I shall have to
wear a Chinese dress, and go on with crowds. I call
it a good beginning. I believe we are going to
succeed, Thomas. We can live here on a pound a
week, and now we shall be earning thirty-two
shillings. I think we might afford ourselves a square
of felt in our living-room.'


CHAPTER XIII
THREE years had passed slowly away, and Ursula
and Thomas still inhabited the two rooms Mrs.
Hopkins 'let off' for eight shillings a week. Their
little capital was exhausted, for Ursula had dis-
covered that even a pound a week as a super was
not to be had all the year round. Sometimes she
made a little more, sometimes week after week
went by without a penny coming in. Thomas
could not go in rags to the office, she could not go
in rags to seek engagements, and the problem of
clothes had become a still more pressing one than
the problem of food. They had never yet failed to
pay their rent punctually, and Miss Hopkins regarded
them with mixed feelings, holding their honesty in
respect, and their want of push and bounce in
disdain. Thomas was getting on steadily, and was
now earning a pound a week; but it is not easy for
two genteel young people to live in London on a
pound a week. Sometimes Ursula had been taken
on by a touring company, and for two years now
she had played small parts with increasing success
both in London and the provinces, but her chance
of anything good was still to come. No actor-
[ 133 ]


134
THE BERYL STONES
manager had ever watched her from a back-seat,
and invited her to play Juliet' to his Romeo. After
three years of waiting and hard work she had never
had speech of an actor-manager, and it seemed to
her that it would be easier to get audience of an
emperor than of one of these gentlemen.
Perhaps she was not brazen enough. Of course,
her poverty and want of friends went heavily
against her. Every season girls with pretty faces
and no ability came forward in parts she could have
played better. She had learned to ask for free
passes and to get them, and she used to watch these
stars of a day very wistfully, and wonder that they
should be so well content to do so ill-content with
their pretty faces, their fine frocks, their untrained
hands and voices; content where she would have
worked and striven, attaining slowly to a higher
excellence ; content with press notices elaborately
describing their elaborate costumes, and mentioning
that Miss So-and-so was at her best in the elopement
scene, when she wore the yellow chiffon, and put
over it a trained coat of white panne lined with
orange and trimmed with sables. ‘All the women
in London will rush to see this coat,' said one
notice, and all the women did. Ursula went too,
and heard the heroine consent to betray her husband
as you accept coffee for breakfast, without conviction
or concern. She was a fine large woman, who shook
like a jelly when she had anything to say, and stood
like a stick when she had not. Her clothes and
her profile were magnificent, and her public agreed
that clothes and a profile made the actress for their


THE BERYL STONES
135
money. The characters of the play were all in the
'smart set,' that little lot of which some of us are
getting monstrous tired. Some were silly and
vicious, and some were silly and high-falutin', and
they all tried to be clever whenever they spoke,
which made them dreadful bores. But the duke
and the duchess ate real eggs on the stage, the
princess behaved like a scullery-maid, and the South
African inillionaire said bitter things about the
manners and morals of his well-born acquaintances.
The British public went in multitudes to see what
an American journalist described as the 'iridescent
putrescence' of English society. The British public
comes mostly from homes that are neither iridescent
nor corrupt, but highly proper, and perhaps a trifle
dull, so of course it is amused by a contrast. Besides,
it goes to the Royal Academy every summer for its
‘Art,' and does not want to worry over that exacting
and Sphinxlike abstraction all the year round.
Ursula found that her own temperament, with
its patient, brooding devotion to her work, set her
apart from her fellows. They wanted to "get on,'
of course, to play lead, wear the expensive dresses,
and marry well as soon as possible. But they were
not learning from day to day as she was. At the
end of three years her skill had grown immensely.
She had learned how to manage her long slim body
with effect, how to do her hair, how to make up,
and how to use the voice that was her most valuable
possession. When the great French actresses came
over she watched them as a man watches his beloved.
She went home to Thomas, and said she would


136
THE BERYL STONES
rather be Réjane than a duchess ; did he understand
her ? Thomas understood, of course. He would
rather have been Milton than a duke, and he
wondered anyone should think it necessary to
say so.
Miss Hopkins thought I was mad,' observed
Ursula. “She had heard,” she said, “as these
Frenchwomen didn't make much in their own
country.” We walked back together last night,
and she introduced me to Mr. Tibbets. He had
been to the Thalia too, and had not been pleased.
He said Réjane was not his idea of a fine woman.'
'Have you answered that invitation from the
Monktons ?' said Thomas.
Ursula understood. Thomas did not wish her to
sever herself entirely from her cousins, and to be
presented by Miss Hopkins to Mr. Tibbets. She
had actually never been in Clara's house, although
Clara had sent her various invitations to teas and
at homes.' It was not Clara's way to do more
than that. When Thomas called she received him
cordially, asked after Ursula, and hoped she would
come with her brother next time. She went on
saying this in her amiable, indifferent manner, and
never discovered that Ursula showed no desire to
come. She had a child now, and considered herself
a very busy woman.
“How can I go to an “At Home” in Cadogan
Place ?' said Ursula. “How can you go? We
have no clothes.'
But you might call there some day. Clara
isn't bad, and I like Monkton.'


THE BERYL STONES
137
What's the use ?' said Ursula.
The struggle for life depressed her sometimes.
For a time you may make a picnic of poverty, do
cheerfully without the amenities of life, and allow
neither body nor soul to be the worse for privation.
It is in the long run that the pinch tells. The hour
comes when you see your surroundings as they are,
squalid and unsuitable. That hour had come to
Ursula now. It was a hot summer evening, two
barrel-organs were braying against each other in
the narrow street, and children of all ages were
screaming there. The sun had been shining on the
little room without bringing delight, but only
insufferable heat and languor. Ursula had been
'resting' for six weeks, and her agent had given
her no hope that morning of a new engagement.
They were wholly dependent now on the pound a
week Thomas earned, and he had just said that he
was under the painful necessity of spending a
portion of this week's pound on a new pair of
boots.
'I'm very sorry about it,' he said anxiously ;
'but I'm sure they won't hold together another
week. Have you any money in hand, Ursula ?'
‘About five shillings,' she said, rousing herself
when she observed her brother's distress. We
have some stores, too-tea and rice and a tin of
corned beef. We shall do very well. It is too hot
to eat much.'
It was Thomas who kept Ursula from despair.
But to-night, though she encouraged him, the
undercurrent of her thoughts was profoundly sad.


138
THE BERYL STONES
To fail in her work was to have failed at all points
in life, and she was failing to earn her daily bread.
Her vocation burned within her like a flame, the
heights of her art were within her vision, but a third-
rate touring company had refused her services that
day, though she had said she would' walk on ’again
rather than go home without the hope of a penny.
She was not fat enough and too tall for the costumes,
the manager said. Besides, he liked a young lady
who looked lively and affable. He engaged for the
parts Ursula had coveted a ci-devant barmaid with a
fetching wink, and Ursula came home inconsolable.
No one wanted her; there was nothing she could
do. In so far as she was more refined and intelligent
than the lucky people who got on,' she was handi-
capped for the battle of life. Yet was she set in the
midst of it by the primitive needs of her body, and
by her affection for Thomas. For his sake she
must keep herself alive. But though she had brains,
and youth, and beauty, and energy abounding, she
could find no market for her wares.
'I hate living on your money,' she said to her
brother. 'I always hoped it would be the other
way about.'
"Some day the luck will turn,' said he.
They relapsed into silence, exhausted by the
heat, bothered by the noises outside, and sobered
by their difficulties. They meant to go out before
bedtime, but had not found the energy to stir yet,
when someone knocked at the door, and Miss
Hopkins walked in.
Good-evening,' she said in her best manner.


THE BERYL STONES
139
• Very warm to-night, is it not? I came to inquire
if these would be of any use to you. Mr. Tibbets'
chief gave them to him this morning, but we are
going to ’Ampton Court to-morrow with two of his
gentlemen friends and their young ladies. So we
can't avail ourselves of these, and it seems a pity to
waste them.'
She held out two Sunday tickets for the Zoological
Gardens. Ursula took them from her, and looked
at them doubtfully.
*Thank you,' she said ; 'I should love it.'
So should I,' said Thomas.
‘But could you walk there and back ?' said his
sister.
'Bus it,' said Miss Hopkins. "Get a Muswell ’Ill
to the Mother Redcap.'
'It is irresistible,' said Thomas. 'My sister and
I will go. It is very kind of you to have thought of
us, Miss Hopkins.'
'The kindness is on your side,' said Miss Hopkins.
• I'm glad Mr. Tibbets had the sense to bring them
to me. He once threw away two tickets for the
Tivoli because he was going somewhere else, but
I showed him how foolish it was. Always pass
things on, I told him, and if only everyone would,
some of us would have more fun. I do despise a
dog in the manger.'
So do I,' said Thomas. “And by the way, Miss
Hopkins, when you want another book. ....
‘Thank you, sir, but, as you say, your books are
rather old-fashioned, and the last one, that “ Oliver
Twist," was a bit thick too. Such low people !


140
THE BERYL STONES
You wouldn't associate with them, so why read
about them ?
Thomas and Miss Hopkins often had literary
discussions, and his eyes now turned to the volume
of Beaumont and Fletcher he had opened after tea
at ‘The Faithful Shepherdess.'
'Sometimes I read about kings and queens,' he
said. "To-night I'm reading about shepherds and
their young ladies.
"You do have some queer books," said Miss
Hopkins with a giggle. “The only shepherd I ever
’eard of to my knowledge was Little Bo-Peep, and
she was a young lady herself, except when Dan Leno
took the part at the Lane. But what I want to
read about is real high life, like what they give you
every day in the “ Trumpeter.” Of course, I see
such a lot of it at the Thalia.'
“Ah !' said Thomas, with that courteous sympathy
Miss Hopkins found so grateful and comforting.
She stood by the door a little longer, and told him
some exciting episodes from the serial she was now
enjoying ; but just as the earl's body had been
discovered by the duke under the drawing-room
sofa, the clock struck, and Miss Hopkins had to
hurry off to the theatre.
'It was the duchess as did it,' she said in a hurry,
'but he'll turn out not to be the earl, you'll see.
That man they electrified and buried is the real heir,
and he'll come to life somehow. I always know
how those serials will turn out. I believe I could
write one if I tried. Well, I must hurry up if I
don't want to pay a fine.'


THE BERYL STONES
141
Shall we really go to the Zoo ?' said Ursula when
Miss Hopkins had departed.
To spend fourpence on fares next day was to
spend the price of a meal, for at this time the brother
and sister were actually living on about a shilling
a day. When Ursula was out of work there was
not much more than that to spare for food after
they had paid their rent, their fuel, and such small
nccessaries as soap and lamp-oil, because there
was always some piece of clothing that must be
renewed if they were to keep at their work at all.
Ursula had never yet earned enough to replenish
their wardrobes comfortably. But she was getting
clever with her fingers, and next day put on a pale-
green cotton that she had bought at a sale for
eighteenpence and made up herself. It was her
best summer frock, and she hoped it would not rain,
for she had no umbrella.
They started early, with some bread and butter in
their pockets, for they meant to spend the whole
day in the Gardens. It was the only summer
holiday to which they could look forward, and, like
Pippa, they were resolved not to squander a mite
of its treasure. All through the morning and late
into the afternoon they were most happy, and when
at last they sat down to rest a little before going home
they were very tired. But Ursula had a delicate
colour in her cheeks, and more gaiety than usual in
her eyes and smile.
"What a beautiful girl !' said a shrewd, good-
natured-looking man to the lady with him. “How
clever of her to wear that pale green!'


142
THE BERYL STONES
The lady was good-natured-looking too, and
shrewd and handsome; but her beauty was not
displayed without those arts that nature makes.
She had dyed hair, a skilfully composed complexion,
and a dress in which there was thirty shillings' worth
of stuff and thirty pounds' worth of cut.
'Well, I'm blessed ! she exclaimed, and she got
up and went across the path to Ursula, followed
by her portly companion.
‘Don't you remember me?' she said, holding out
her hand.
The colour faded from Ursula's cheeks.
Mrs. Lowe !' she murmured.
'I was,' said the lady, 'but I've just married
again. I'm Mrs. Portinscale now. You've heard
of Mr. Portinscale, I dare say, if you're living in
London.'
Ursula looked at the stout gentleman, smiling
and taking off his hat to her much as a budding
journalist might look at a Harmsworth or a Newnes.
This gentleman was not an actor, but he ‘ran’ the
Thalia, and “had a bit' in half a dozen theatres.
His power in stageland was supreme and well
known.
"Are you living in London?' asked Mrs. Portinscale
when Thomas had been presented to her, for it was
only Ursula that she had formerly met at Boyes
Court.
'Yes,' said Ursula. “My brother is in a solicitor's.
office, and I have gone on the stage.'
Mr. Portinscale's quiet, level glance seemed to
take her measure.


THE BERYL STONES
143
Where are you?' he asked.
“I've been out of an engagement for six weeks,'
said Ursula. She was not sufficiently businesslike
to enjoy the chance of putting her case before Mr.
Portinscale. In fact, she hated the necessity; but
as he encouraged her with further questions, she
knew it would be pure folly not to answer them.
* I've been at it for three years,' she went on.
* At first I only walked on. Then I went on tour
with several small companies. Then I travelled
with Brinsley Adams, and took small parts-
servants and pages, and so on. He promised to
promote me just before he died, and then, of course,
the company was dissolved.'
"You've had some experience, then,' said Mr.
Portinscale thoughtfully. “ Learned to be punctual
and speak plainly ?
'You must come to my party next Friday,' said
Mrs. Portinscale. “All the theatrical lot will be
there, and I'll introduce you to some of them. If
you mash them as you did Joshua ... oh, you
needn't blush, Joshua ... I don't mind . . . I've
always admired Miss French myself ... and she
knows how to do her hair now, which makes all the
difference in the world to anyone. Harry Wildair
and Violet Marsden are going to do a little duologue
by a new author, and if Anderson likes it he has
promised to put it on before “ The Duke's Whim."
So Anderson is sure to be there. Ever met him ?'
'I never meet anyone,' said Ursula. 'I never go
out. Where do you live, Mrs. Portinscale ?
'In Bedford Square . . . you know . . . close


144
THE BERYL STONES
to the Museum. Of course, I shall expect your
brother too.'
Mrs. Portinscale took stock of Thomas while her
husband found a card with his address on it, and
gave it to Ursula. Then he suggested to his wife
that it was time to go.
'By the way, do you remember Crampy ?' said
Mrs. Portinscale suddenly. "You won't see him
on Friday. He is still in South Africa. He cleared
out with all he could lay hands on when his poor
father died, and I've never heard from him since.
Someone who came over said they'd seen him in
Johannesburg, and that he was doing no good. In
fact, they hinted that he had taken to drink a bit.
He hasn't troubled about me much, anyhow. Good-
ness knows what would have become of me if I
hadn't met Joshua at a Scotch hydro.'
'I don't know what will become of you if you
stay here talking much longer,' said Mr. Portinscale.
' You forget that you are dining out, and take two
hours to change your gown.'
This aspersion naturally diverted Mrs. Portin-
scale's ideas, and she departed with her husband.
'I wish I could go to her party,' said Ursula,
looking after her. “But I have nothing to wear.'
'I wonder if those boots of mine would hold
together for another week ?' said Thomas.


CHAPTER XIV
'I saw a lovely lemon-coloured muslin in Briggs'
window on Saturday,' said Miss Hopkins pensively.
'Two-three a yard, and forty-five inches wide.
Ten yards would make you a dress easy. Ten yards
at two-three is how much ? I'll lend you the money
with pleasure, Miss French, and if you make it like
Miss Marsden's muslin, what she wears in the third
act of the “Duke's Whim," you'll look very smart,
I'm sure. May I inquire if you have gloves and
shoes ?'
Ursula said she had gloves and shoes, because she
had lately bought some for a play that only ran a
few nights. They were as good as new.
'Then we'll commence at once,' said Miss Hop-
kins. "I'll step out and get the muslin while you
pin that lining together, and when you're ready I'll
machine all the seams and flounces for you.'
It was uncommonly kind of Miss Hopkins.
Ursula had told her how much they had enjoyed the
Zoo, and had incidentally mentioned their encounter
with the Portinscales, and Mrs. Portinscale's invi-
tation for Friday evening.
'You don't never mean to say you're talking of
[ 145 1
10


146
THE BERYL STONES
Josh Portinscale who 'olds the Belvidere in one
’and and two ’alls in the other, besides owning the
Thalia ! cried Miss Hopkins, whose aspirates were
apt to hit your ears in calm moments and fail her
unkindly in moments of excitement. "Well, you
are a lucky young lady to know him in that familiar
way. I expect there'll be a manager on every chair
in his 'ouse. Of course you must go to the party,
and of course you must look as if money was no
object. It's the only way to get on in the profession,
I do assure you.'
Miss Hopkins put one finger to her cheek and fell
to thinking. The result was the lemon-coloured
muslin at two-three a yard, and the little front
parlour filled with billows of it all that day and all
the next-filled, too, with the pounding noise of
Miss Hopkins' cheap machine, with the odour of
Mrs. Hopkins' Irish stew, and with the blazing heat
of a hot July. But in spite of these little drawbacks,
Ursula enjoyed making her gown, for she soon
discovered that it was going to turn out a success.
'I had no idea you were such a clever dressmaker,'
she said.
I've stared at the facsimile of this dress every
night for the last three months,' said Miss Hopkins.
' It's easy enough once you get the lie of these frills
right. Miss Marsden wore it in her great scene with
Lord Frederick. I couldn't make out how those
frills went for a long time, till one night they burst
on me. Funny how sudden things come, same as
good and bad luck! Perhaps this dress 'll bring you
luck. I've broken three needles in it.'


148
THE BERYL STONES
a position I've never been fond of except in church.
It is Joshua's idea, though. The question is, Have
you a quick study ?
'Yes, I have,' said Ursula.
Could you get up the part of Beatrice Ald-
borough in this duologue by Friday morning,
come round to us for a rehearsal, and act in it at
our party on Friday night?
I'm sure I could,' said Ursula, trying not to
show an absurd degree of pleasure and excitement
as she took the type-written manuscript into her
hands.
Violet Marsden was going to do it, but she has
thrown us over. Had a tiff with Harry Wildair, I
believe. We should have given it up, but it's by a
new man, and we are anxious not to disappoint him.
Harry Wildair will act with you. Of course you've
seen him.'
'Oh yes,' said Ursula, her eyes big with the solem-
nity given to the occasion by a name of such magni-
tude. Will he care to act with me?'
'If he doesn't he'll soon tell you so,' said Mrs.
Portinscale. “Then we should have to give it up.
There is no scenery or costume, of course. You'll
just act in our back drawing-room.'
'It is most kind of you to give me the chance.'
'It isn't me at all : it's Joshua. He has taken
one of his sudden fancies to you. When we left
you on Saturday, he said, “I shouldn't be much
surprised if that girl was less of a stick than the
ruck of them.” I never heard him so enthusiastic
before.'


THE BERYL STONES
149
While Mrs. Portinscale conversed she looked
round the small room, which was so obviously
parlour, bedroom, and kitchen. It was clean and
orderly, and there were several shelves full of books
above the chest of drawers that Ursula had managed
to buy second-hand. But the poverty of the place
struck Mrs. Portinscale more forcibly than the signs
of refinement, and her thoughts turned to costume.
She asked what Ursula meant to wear on Friday
night, and was taken down to see Miss Hopkins and
the lemon-coloured muslin.
'It wants an Empire fichu of white chiffon with
long ends,' she pronounced.
"Then it's like most of us,' said Miss Hopkins,
when the lady had gone ; it wants what it won't
get. I happen to know that Miss Marsden's fichu
cost five guineas.'
But that evening a cardboard box arrived for
Ursula from a Bond Street shop, and it contained
a fichu, a fan, and lemon-coloured shoes and stock-
ings, all sent by Mrs. Portinscale. Ursula did her
thick, soft dark hair as she had seen Miss Marsden
do hers, and put on her new finery, and appeared
before Thomas in it.
'Shall I do ?' she said.
'I believe you will,” said Thomas.
‘But will my acting do for Harry Wildair ?' said
Ursula nervously, and during the next few days she
went up and down the scale of hope and fear. She
worked at her part hour after hour before the strip
of glass that was a chief tool of her trade, and at the
end of the third day she did not know how well she


THE BERYL STONES
151
acted at all; but they went into the business of the
little comedy, learned what to expect of each other,
and how to help each other at moments depending
on action rather than on speech. They both got
eager and interested. So did Mr. Portinscale. His
wife had vanished.
'It will go,' said Mr. Portinscale when they had
finished.
'I shouldn't wonder,' said Harry Wildair.
Ursula walked home with her thoughts in the
clouds. She was going to act with Harry Wildair.
He had looked at her with admiration, had treated
her most cordially, had alluded to her beautiful
voice, and was going out of his way to let her make
two important points. She wished Thomas could
have been there to see. She wished he was going
with her at night.
When I get on we will buy ourselves clothes,'
she said as she bid him good-bye. She leaned over
him to see what he was reading, and her hand
lightly touched his hair. The idea that she might,
after all, “get on' was novel and stirring. For the
first time it drove into the background the fear and
shame that affected her mental life as a wound
affects the body, clouding every hour, harassing
each movement, calling forth the great virtues of
courage and endurance, but depressing that most
desirable go-all-the-day virtue of a merry heart.
To-night Ursula's eyes had smiles in them; she was
pale, but that was natural to her ; she had done
her hair as it became her best-thick and low on
the temples ; her gown hung straightly from beneath


152
THE BERYL STONES
her shoulders, adding to her unusual height, and the
fichu, with its trailing ends, gave to her elegance of
colour elegance of mode and fabric. The beauty
she so much desired and doubted was incontestable
to-night. As she made her way up the crowded
stairs most eyes followed her, and when she stood
before her host and hostess they looked at her with
amazement and congratulation.
'Let them begin at once,' whispered Mrs. Portin-
scale to her husband. “Anderson is here, and he
never stays long.'
So Mr. Portinscale' took Ursula into the back-
room, which had been curtained off and kept empty
for the performance. Mr. Wildair soon joined her
there.
'What a beautiful dress !' he said ; ‘and I have
brought you some flowers. It struck me as I came
here that you ought to have some in your hands as
you go on. You know you say you have been
gathering roses.'
He put some crimson roses into her hands, and
stepped back to enjoy the effect of them against the
pale yellow and white of her dress. His coolness
and his glance of admiration encouraged her, his
kindliness set her at ease. She took heart to look
at herself in the glass as she fastened two or three
of the roses in her fichu, and she was startled by
her own image, for it had gathered lustre since she
had dispassionately seen it in the glass at home.
'Now we are ready,' said Mr. Wildair to his host,
who had entered the room too. Mr. Portinscale
went in front of the curtain, and announced that


THE BERYL STONES
153
Mr. Wildair and Miss Ursula French would now act
a duologue called “The Wedding Eve.' Then he
pulled the curtains back, and the informal little
performance began. Everyone present knew Harry
Wildair, but no one had seen or heard of Ursula
French as an actress, and when she appeared there
was a murmur of surprise. She took her audience
with her grace and height, and with her sweet, low-
pitched voice. Then, as the play went on, and she
had to stand, sit, walk, be silent, weep, laugh, cajole,
and always hold them, it was discovered that she
could act. Mr. Wildair, of course, discovered it, and
his own acting rose to the unusual occasion. He
was artist enough and generous enough to enjoy it,
and when the curtain fell he said things to Ursula
that rejoiced her, and helped her whenever she
thought of them. But he had to speak in a hurry,
for the audience was making more noise than a
drawing-room audience usually does, and Ursula
had to curtsey to it again and again. Right in
front, whispering to each other and clapping their
hands delightedly, stood Mr. Portinscale and Ander-
son—the almighty, unapproachable, incomparable
Anderson, whose study was said to be knee-deep in
manuscript plays, and whose butler was famous for
his skill in keeping off aspirants and interviewers.
He asked Mr. Portinscale to present him to Ursula ;
he said he had been charmed by her acting, and
then he invited her to come down to supper. All
eyes followed her as she went out of the room with
him.
'I suppose her fortune is made,' said a young


154
THE BERYL STONES
actress enviously—a girl who had gone on the stage
because she had a pretty face and wanted a little
pocket-money. She vaguely felt that Ursula had
achieved something she would never achieve, but
she had no suspicion of what went before—the
pains and the patience, the keen desire to do well,
and the faithful work.
When Ursula appeared again she was alone, but
her face was radiant, and she went straight up to
Mr. and Mrs. Portinscale.
'Well,' said her host, ‘has Anderson engaged you
to play Juliet ? You look like it, and you've been
talking to him long enough.'
'He has engaged me to play in “ The Wedding
Eve” when he puts it on in the autumn, and there
may be a small part for me in “ The Duke's Whim.”
Anyhow, I am to have a part in the new piece when
“ The Duke's Whim ” is withdrawn.'
She spoke in a low voice, but someone overheard
her, and the news spread like wildfire. Anderson
had engaged her. She was to appear at the Thalia
in September. Several people now asked to be
introduced to her, and she was again a central
figure, flushed a little with the joy of her success,
overwhelmed a little by the chorus of praise that
went up to her. She had just spoken to Mr. Wildair
again, and had it in her mind that she might get
away now, when three people came towards her
from the back of the room, and she recognised that
her cousin Clara had been amongst her audience.
Mr. Monkton was with Clara, and the young man
whose face Ursula remembered vividly, the young


THE BERYL STONES
155
man who had stood near her when the cake was
cut at the wedding.
Clara shook hands, recalled her husband to
Ursula's mind, and presented Sir Henry Jocelyn.
'I hope you are coming to my party next week,'
she said. “My mother and Joanna will both be
there, I think. Is Thomas here to-night ?'
Ursula looked at her cousin's placid face, and
replied that she hoped to appear at the party, and
that Thomas was not here to-night. She had made
up her mind, on the spur of the moment, that she
would accept Clara's invitation and face her rela-
tions again.
‘My mother knows that you have gone on the
stage, continued Clara. 'I thought it best to tell
her. How well you act! Isn't it very difficult to
remember so many words ? and who tells you what
to do when you are not talking ? Sydney says the
way you put those roses in your hair on the stage
was so clever. Was that the author's idea ? By
the way, I wish you and Mr. Wildair would act at
our house next week. Theatricals are such a help.
By the time they are over people are nearly ready
to go, and they have not been bored. Mr. Wildair
is a great friend of ours. If he consents, would
you ?'
'I should think I might,' said Ursula a little
doubtfully. “But you know the piece belongs to
Mr. Anderson, and as far as that part.goes, I probably
belong to him too. We should have to find out.'
'Sydney will find out, and I'll let you know,' said
Clara. 'I expect it will be all right.'


156
THE BERYL STONES
Ursula looked with some inward amusement at her
cousin's figure, in its stiff, costly dress of brocade.
Then she looked at Mr. Monkton, and thought the
husband and wife resembled each other—they were
both so solid, practical, and prosperous. But they
were both inclined to be friendly, and they had been
kind to Thomas. Sir Henry Jocelyn had not spoken
yet, but he took advantage of the first pause, and
asked her to come down with him to supper.
'I should like to,' said Ursula, laughing. 'I went
down with Mr. Anderson, but he forgot to get me
anything to eat.'


CHAPTER XV
The supper-room was uncomfortably crowded, but
beyond it Jocelyn saw a scrap of garden provided
with seats, and lit with Japanese lamps. He took
Ursula out there, and then went back into the house
to 'scrimmage, as he said, for food. She was glad
for the moment to be left alone.
The sudden encounter with Clara had unnerved
her. Her success that evening, and the new hope it
gave to the future, was less vividly in her mind now
than her bitter memories of Clara's wedding-day.
Her head was lowered as she recalled her useless
appeal to Grace, and felt again the blind despair and
rage that had driven her as she fled from the house
with the beryls in her hand. She recalled the long,
dragging walk through the half-melted snow, and on
this sultry summer night she shivered as she remem-
bered the chill of it, and her struggle against the
wind and rain. She remembered the events of that
afternoon as a person wide awake remembers the
sensations of those semi-conscious moments between
sleep and wakefulness, when men feel extremes of
anguish that in broad day are tempered by the com-
[ 157 ]


158
THE BERYL STONES
plex considerations and surroundings of actual life.
But the consequences of that miserable hour had not
passed, as the shadow left by a dream does, and to-
night they cast her down just when success had
touched and lifted her.
Jocelyn's returning step and voice forced her to
look up and smile ; but though she made a brave
effort, he had a glimpse that haunted him of her face
and attitude in tragic reverie. She was the star of
the evening, and she was neither proud nor glad, it
seemed. He wondered what sorrow expressed itself
in her dejected figure and dark, mournful eyes. The
expression in his own eyes might have been read by a
child, as he sat down beside her with the tray of
supper he had captured.
' I'm so hungry,' said Ursula, trying to recover.
' Acting makes me hungry, but when I came down
with Mr. Anderson, we just stood in a corner and
talked. How did you manage to bring a tray
through the crowd ?'
“There was a crowd when I saw you before ...
at your cousin's wedding,' said Jocelyn. 'I saw you
that day when you arrived, and then again in the
dining-room.'
'Yes,' said Ursula.
You don't mean to say that you have remem-
bered me all this time ... as I have remembered
you ? Impossible !
'I don't see why,' said Ursula, laughing a little.
'I knew you again the moment you came up to me
with my cousin.'
‘But what became of you that day? You seemed


THE BERYL STONES
159
to vanish. And why have I never seen you since,
or even heard of you at Boyes Court ?
'I live in London,' murmured Ursula.
The young man watched her with a passionate
admiration that she only dimly gauged. She could
not guess how beautiful he thought her long, slim
white hands, as they broke the bread he gave her, or
how he waited and watched for the full glance of her
eyes. The moment the curtain fell back to-night
he had remembered her, though he saw that three
years had altered her as a summer day alters a half-
open lily. When she began to act, he half grudged
her her triumph. He did not want her to discover
dramatic genius, and so belong more or less to the
world at large. Yet, when that critical company
applauded her, it helped to kindle his desire.
' Are you really going on the stage ?' he said.
'I am on the stage,' said she.
‘But do you like the life ?'
Ursula shrugged her shoulders slightly, and made
some evasive reply. The question led she knew not
where. She could not tell him that she must work
or starve, and that she had turned to the work for
which she felt some vocation. The seamy side of the
theatrical life, its social motley, its real hardships,
its rivalries and vanities, had to be endured, as
sensible men endure the drawbacks of a chosen pro-
fession. The less said the better. Ursula knew to-
night that the worst stretch of the road lay behind
her; she would no longer have to haggle for a
pound a week, and find herself worsted by a barmaid.
She told Jocelyn about her engagement at the


THE BERYL STONES
161
lovely cadences in it of pity and affection. Jocelyn
was moved by them to go straight to his point.
May I come and see you and your brother ?' he
said.
Ursula hesitated.
We live in a garret,' she murmured.
'I shouldn't care if you lived in a barn,' said he.
Ursula began to walk more briskly, but when they
turned into Little Green Street he asked when and
where he could see her again.
'There is my cousin's party next week,' said
Ursula ; 'I have half promised to go to it. ....
‘But why must I wait a whole week ?' said Harry.
'I want to call on your brother ; let me come to-
morrow evening.'
Ursula looked up at the shabby little house, and
she looked at her new friend.
'Do you really want to come ?' she began doubt-
fully; and he seized at that, said he would come for
certain, and made off in a hurry, as if he feared she
might change her mind.
Ursula went softly upstairs and into her own
room. But before she had been there five minutes,
Thomas appeared, and wanted to know how she had
got on. She told him, and they rejoiced together.
Then she told him of her meeting with the Monktons
and Sir Henry Jocelyn.
'He wants to come and see us,” she said ; ‘he
wants to know you.'
'Who does ?'
Sir Henry Jocelyn.'
Thomas opened his eyes, stared at his beautiful
II


162
THE BERYL STONES
sister, stared at the garret room. He was puzzled
by Ursula's expression, which, in spite of her triumph,
was moody and dejected.
‘Did you tell him where we lived ?' he asked.
“He saw ; he walked home with me.'
Thomas glanced round the room again, and then
went to bed. He had no words with which to solve
the situation, and he only half liked it. He had
never even seen Rivenhall, but he knew that it was
one of the great properties of the county, and he
could not imagine what the master of it would be
rightly at in Little Green Street.
When he came back from Lincoln's Inn Fields next
day, he found that Ursula agreed with him. She
proposed that they should go and sit in Regent's
Park till bedtime.
* Very well,' said Thomas ; 'it isn't polite, but it
is sensible.'
But Ursula was silent and restless all the evening,
and Thomas found that even the name of Anderson
only roused her slightly ; so he tried the other tack.
What sort of man is Sir Henry Jocelyn ?' he
asked.
“A good sort, I should think,' said Ursula.
What's he like ?'
' Oh, he's tall . . . taller than I am ... and he
carries himself well . . . he is dark . .. and has
gray eyes . . . and a strong profile . . . and a
pleasant voice. ... You know it's impossible to tell
anyone what people are like, Thomas ; in the end
it's always item, one neck, one chin, and so forth.
Let's go home ; I'm sick of sitting here in the dust.'


THE BERYL STONES
163
Thomas was quite agreeable. It had struck nine
o'clock, and he wanted to read before he went to bed.
They strolled back to Little Green Street, and let
themselves in with a latchkey; but Mrs. Hopkins over-
took them before they were half-way up the stairs.
‘There is a gentleman waiting for you in your
room,' she said. "He looked so disappointed like
that I arst him in. I didn't suppose he'd stop up
there a whole hour, but I'm blessed if he hasn't!
Unless,' she added with a start, 'he's got out of
the window with the spoons.
‘Did he give his name ?' asked Ursula.
He said he was Sir 'Enery something or other ;
that's what made me think of the spoons. At the
time I took it as just his joke.
The brother and sister hurried upstairs to Ursula's
room, and found Jocelyn sitting there. He was
rather shy and apologetic, and at first he addressed
himself mainly to Thomas. Ursula lighted her
lamp, and felt pleased to think that, though she had
gone out on purpose to avoid Jocelyn, she had care-
fully tidied and arranged her room before leaving.
It looked rather nice; so did Thomas, thought
Ursula. His face had gained in force these three
years; he was more like his father every day-
kindly, humorous, acute of brain, and perhaps more
fitted than his father to make his way in the world.
He still looked delicate, but that was because he
worked hard, was nourished sparely, and walked too
far every day for his lame leg. As Ursula lit her
lamp, her thoughts flashed on into an easier future,
and then, as usual, were brought up with a shock
II-2


164
THE BERYL STONES
against a future stained and spoiled by the irrecover-
able past. When she began to listen to what was
passing between the two men, she heard Thomas
accept an invitation to spend to-morrow on the river
with Sir Henry Jocelyn.
Can you and your sister be at Paddington by
10.45 ?' said Harry; it is rather early, I know.'
'I am afraid I can't come,' said Ursula.
One young man looked puzzled and the other
profoundly disappointed.
'I have just said we could,' explained Thomas.
'I know you are always longing to be on the river in
this hot weather. Have you filled up to-morrow ?'
'Do come,' said Jocelyn, when he had waited a
moment for Ursula to reply, and found that she
maintained an embarrassed silence. 'I will get the
Portinscales too, and Imogen.'
“Who is Imogen ?' asked Thomas.
‘Portinscale's daughter—a girl of fifteen or so,
still at school.'
‘Have you known the Portinscales long ?' said
Ursula ; for, somehow, the master of Rivenhall did
not seem to her of the same social complexion as the
man who ran the Thalia and held two halls in his
hand.
I've known him for years,' said Jocelyn. 'You
see, Monkton is an old chum of mine, and he has
always been hand-in-glove with the theatrical
crowd.'
'I wonder if Aunt Joanna knew that when she
allowed him to marry Clara,' said Thomas.
Harry laughed, and got up to go.


THE BERYL STONES
165
'Do come to-morrow,' he said to Ursula, as he
held her hand in his for a moment; and his voice
sank to a whisper and a supplication.
Thomas went downstairs with him, and when the
boy returned he found that his sister had not stirred.
‘Do come to-morrow,' he said too ; it will do you
good.'
We ought not to go-at least, I ought not to.
Of course, I should like it.'
‘But other people will be there. If he had asked
you only, you would be right to refuse, I dare say ;
but with me . . . and others. ...!
‘Do you like him?' said Ursula abruptly.
'Rather,' said Thomas ; 'don't you ?'
'I don't want to,' she answered with some
vehemence. 'Our ways lie asunder.'
But at breakfast next morning Thomas observed
that she wore her pretty green cotton frock, and was
evidently ready to start with him.
'I am glad you are going,' he said.
Ursula could not help feeling glad too when she
saw the pleasure in Jocelyn's face as he came forward
to meet her at Paddington. The only people with
him were Mr. and Mrs. Portinscale, and a pretty,
quiet-looking girl whom Mrs. Portinscale called
Imogen, and introduced as her stepdaughter. No
one else joined them, and when the train started
Mrs. Portinscale said she supposed they would have
been stewing at home to-day if Sir Henry had not
fetched them out of bed last night and invited them
to this picnic.
It was only half-past ten when I got to you,' said


166
THE BERYL STONES
Jocelyn reproachfully. 'You were sitting about
with coffee-cups.'
'I suppose it was a sudden idea,' said Mr. Portin-
scale.
Most good ideas are,' said Harry—“as sudden as
falling in love.'
When they got to Henley, they punted up the
river towards some shady woods, where they had
lunch, brought and unpacked and packed again by
Harry's man. After lunch Mr. and Mrs. Portinscale
both said they felt lazy, and would stay where they
were. Thomas and Imogen were strolling through
the woods ; they had never ceased to talk to each
other from the eventful moment when Thomas had
quoted a line from · Urn Burial,' and Imogen had
recognised it.
They are still discussing books,' said Ursula ;
' at least, I know Thomas is—he looks so happy.'
'It would be wrong to disturb them,' said Harry ;
' let us go a little way in the punt.'
It was fresh and pleasant on the river. Ursula
sat amongst the cushions, and enjoyed the lazy,
drifting progress and the cool lap of the water.
Other boats passed them and were passed by them,
and Harry wished them all away. Ursula liked to
see them, and for once to find herself amongst the
lucky people of the earth. But as soon as he could
Harry took the punt into a backwater, and found a
snug corner for it amongst the pollard willows and
lush grasses growing there. At the end of an hour
he did not propose to move ; he was still sitting near
Ursula in the stern, and long silences had succeeded


THE BERYL STONES
167
to the eager talk with which they had begun. No
other boat was near them. The sunlight quivered
on the water and amongst the trees. Ursula's eyes
were dreamy as she let the beauty of the scene delight
and refresh her. It was a golden hour, and when it
came to an end the memory of it would still flash
upon her in times of hardship and depression.
What are you thinking of ?' said Harry, who was
watching her with a face as ecstatic as her own; and
until he spoke he had not known how radiant her
rare smile could be.
'I was thinking how glad I should be to remember
this next Sunday in Little Green Street,' she said.
'I was thinking about “ that inward eye which is the
bliss of solitude." It is Thomas's fault; it is quite
impossible to live with Thomas and not have your
head full of quotations.
'When can we meet again ? It is such a long
while to the Monktons' party.'
'Five days. But I may not go to it; I never go
to parties.'
'I heard your cousin ask you to act, and you did
not refuse. I shall go, and if you are not there I
shall come and see you in Little Green Street.'
'I would rather meet you at the Monktons,' said
Ursula ; 'you must not come to Little Green Street
again.'
Why not?
Ursula did not try to explain, and silence fell
between them. They heard the plash of the river
against the bank, and a low hum of voices from an
unseen boat. Their own boat was so near the shore


CHAPTER XVI
CLARA MONKTON had been married more than three
years, and of course she had entertained a good deal,
but she was especially anxious that this party should
be a success. Her father and mother and Grace had
all come up for it a few days ago, and were staying in
her house. She found Mr. Hardwick the most
agreeable guest of the three, because he went off
sight-seeing at an early hour, and returned at a late
one. He made no suggestions and had no obstruc-
tive ideas, and the only trouble much on his mind
was his doubt whether the air of the underground
railway was good for the bookstall boys who lived
down there. He had expressed a wish to see Ursula
and Thomas, and had gone out of his way to call at
Little Green Street, a condescension his wife and
Grace thought unnecessary. He saw Thomas, but
not Ursula, and he came back so well pleased with
himself that Mrs. Hardwick felt sure he had been
spending his money in some silly way. But she
could not question him, because Sir Henry Jocelyn
and his mother were present. They had called
rather late in the afternoon, and were drinking iced
coffee on Clara’s balcony. It was a big balcony,
[ 169 ]


170
THE BERYL STONES
with an awning and rugs and chairs, and a
hedge of flowers between you and the eyes of the
street.
Lady Jocelyn was staying with Lord Swanage, a
married brother who lived in Chesterfield Gardens.
She had no town house, and did not wish for one.
She disliked London-disliked the noise and dirt and
hurry, the stale air, and the new ways she found
each time she came there. She met people at her
brother's house that his father would not have
suffered across the threshold. She thought the sky
would fall when her youngest nephew became a
member of the Stock Exchange. It distressed her
to see Lady Swanage's hair turn more golden every
year, instead of growing respectably gray. Her
nieces used words and phrases she thought ‘not
pretty,' and one of them accepted a person called
Jacob Moscowitz because he had a duke's income-
such an insufficient reason. The great preoccupation
of her life was her son's marriage, and she had begun
to wish that he would bring home the right girl soon,
and so sãve her from the haunting fear that he might
choose the wrong one. She was a very delicate
woman, with a tranquil manner, charmingly pretty
still, wearing always the widow's dress she had first
worn ten years ago, and mourning always the
husband in whose image Harry was made. She had
asked Harry to pay this call with her this afternoon,
and he had been rather unexpectedly willing. She
began to think that perhaps, after all, Grace ...
but she had never been fond of Grace ; she con-
sidered her 'managing.' She knew exactly what


THE BERYL STONES
171
kind of girl she wanted as a daughter-in-law, but she
had never met any one girl who possessed all the
indispensable qualities.
'Thomas has very much improved,' said Mr.
Hardwick, addressing his wife. 'He says he likes
the law. I'm sure I hope he will get on.'
Mr. Langford says he will,' said Sydney Monkton,
who had come home a little earlier than usual.
‘His head clerk thinks very highly of him. Of
course, it is a slow way of making a career.'
'It is ... it is . . . he might be helped, though,
said Mr. Hardwick meditatively, stirring his coffee
and then tasting it. ' Bless me, Clara, I wanted
tea ! this is coffee, and stone-cold.'
It is iced,' said Clara placidly. 'I can give you
tea, father. Did you leave my message for Ursula ?'
'Thomas said she would write to-night. He is
coming to your party too. He said he was not
coming ... in fact, there was a little difficulty
... but we have put that right, and now he will
accompany Ursula.'
'I wonder if Ursula has improved at all,' said
Grace.
My dear Grace,' said Sydney Monkton, 'six
months hence our claim to distinction will probably
rest on being Ursula's cousins.'
What can you mean ?' said Grace, who did not
altogether approve of Sydney now that she knew
him better.
'They say she is going to be a great actress.'
'I should think it most unlikely. Who are the
people that say so ?'


THE BERYL STONES
173
'Which she will never have, unless she has greatly
altered and leaves the stage at once,' said Mrs. Hard-
wick.
'I suppose Miss French has not gone on the stage
entirely for amusement,' said Harry, thinking of the
bare little room in which he had waited, and looking
at Mrs. Hardwick's high-coloured face, graven with
lines of indolence and selfishness.
Of course not,' said Mr. Hardwick testily. 'My
poor brother-in-law left those two children without
a penny in the world. I know for a fact that they
had hardly a hundred pounds between them when
they came to London three years ago. They would
take no help from me. Have they ever come to you
all this time, Sydney ?
'Never,' said Sydney. “Mr. Langford happened
to see Thomas here; that's all I've ever done for
them. But I didn't know they wanted help as badly
as all that—did you, Clara ?
'I'm afraid I never thought about it,' said
Clara.
"You omit to say that in coming to London they
entirely disregarded my advice,' said Mrs. Hardwick,
who was very angry with her husband. It was not
necessary to let the Jocelyns know all about her
brother's poverty, and the shifts to which his
children had been put in consequence.
'Father forgets things,' said Grace. “We did our
best to persuade Ursula to settle down quietly in
some pleasant family as nursery governess; but of
course, compared with the stage, that kind of life is
dull.'


174
THE BERYL STONES
What would she have earned as nursery
governess ?' asked Sydney Monkton.
'Twenty pounds a year, I suppose.'
‘Thomas tells me she has just signed her agree-
ment with Anderson,' said Mr. Hardwick. 'She is
to have ten pounds a week to begin with, and more
later on.'
‘Ridiculous !' said Mrs. Hardwick.
'I can't understand it,' said Grace ; 'Ursula
never had anything in her.'
'Besides, acting is such useless work . . . if you
can call it work,' said Mrs. Hardwick. 'I should
class it with poetry, and refuse to pay for it at
all. Milton only got five pounds for “ Paradise
Lost," and quite right too. People do that kind
of thing to please themselves ; at least, they
ought to.
'But I am rather curious to see Ursula act,' con-
tinued Grace, much too dense to perceive the gather-
ing thunder in Harry Jocelyn's face. She is not
pretty, and she has no idea of dress. Her appear-
ance used to divert us. I remember what she
looked like at Clara's wedding.'
So do I,' said Harry ; 'it was the first time I saw
her.'
* When was the last time ?! said Lady Jocelyn.
'Yesterday, on the river,' said Harry.
The shock inflicted by this confession was shown
in the silence with which the four ladies received it.
Even Clara felt dismayed. The meeting might have
been a chance one, but the young man did not say
so, and no one had the courage to ask him. His face


THE BERYL STONES
175
was impassive as he got up and followed his mother
downstairs.
Poor Mrs. Hardwick !' said Lady Jocelyn, when
they had driven some distance; 'it must be rather
trying.'
What must ?' said Harry.
To have a niece on the stage. It is really worse
nowadays, when actresses are so much recognised.
Formerly ladies did not know them, and there was
an end of it. You know, Mr. Trevelyan's eldest
daughter Anne ran away with an actor, and went on
the stage.'
'I never heard of it or of her ; I thought Jane was
the eldest.'
'Of course. No one ever mentioned Anne's name
again or saw her . . . except, perhaps, behind the
footlights. The Trevelyans are proud people, and
the marriage was considered a disgrace.'
'I suppose it is partly a question of taste,' said
Harry. 'If I had a sister, I would rather she
married a hard-working actor and a decent, hand-
some gentleman-like Wildair, for instance—than an
oily swindler like Jacob Moscowitz.'
The carriage had just arrived at Hyde Park
Corner, and was caught in a block. As it stopped,
Harry saw the Portinscales close to them in their
carriage. The sun shone on Mrs. Portinscale's
transformation, on the diamonds in her hat, and on
her enormous ruffle made of pale pink rose-leaves.
She was giving orders to her coachman in a loud,
cheerful voice, and when she saw Harry she kissed
her hand to him. Mr. Portinscale seemed to be asleep.


THE BERYL STONES
177
always must be,' she went on. “That woman's
voice and hair condemn her. Grace Hardwick is
invariably correct.'
'Perhaps that is what's the matter with her,' said
Harry.
Lady Jocelyn felt so uneasy that she changed her
mind when the day came, and went by herself to
Clara Monkton's party. She arrived rather early,
and took up a position near Mrs. Hardwick. Grace
moved about the rooms talking to various people,
but from time to time she came back to the two
older ladies. She was with them when Ursula and
Thomas appeared. The brother and sister looked
round for someone they knew, and went straight to
Mr. Hardwick. He stared at Ursula as if he could
hardly believe his eyes. As they stood together,
Mr. Wildair came up to them, and Mrs. Hardwick,
who was not far off, heard how cordially the great
actor spoke to her niece. Little as she knew of the
theatrical world, she recognised Harry Wildair when
she saw him. Presently the Portinscales arrived,
and they joined Ursula too. A moment later Lady
Jocelyn saw her son's face in the doorway, and saw
him go straight to Ursula's side.
She certainly looks tidier and does her hair
better,' said Grace. Her dress is all wrong, of course
—at least, it would be for anyone off the stage.'
Why doesn't she come and speak to me ?' said
Mrs. Hardwick; "she has seen us.'
Who is the good-looking lame boy with her ?'
said Lady Jocelyn ; 'her brother ? They are
coming our way.'
I2


178
THE BERYL STONES
For Thomas had seen his aunt, and, without
lowering his voice, had invited Ursula to come and
speak to her. Ursula could not refuse, but as she
moved on both Jocelyn and Harry Wildair kept at
her side.
'How do you do, Aunt Joanna ? How do you do,
Grace ?' she said ; and, without waiting for their
replies, without giving Harry the chance he wanted
of presenting her to his mother, she proceeded with
Mr. Wildair to another part of the room. Her
manner had been suave and chilly—a mere formal
recognition of people she knew and wished to avoid.
Lady Jocelyn saw that her son was vexed. She
herself was amused and surprised—surprised by
Ursula's quiet distinction of manner and by the rare
type of her beauty, amused by her air. A little
pleased and proud, too, she was to find that, at any
rate, Harry had made no mistake in taste. She still
hoped the attraction was not a serious one, of course,
and she took care not to let her son discover that,
against her will, she felt inclined to see with his eyes.
He sat down near her when the performance began,
and Ursula came on with her crimson roses. He had
found out that she would want some again, and had
sent them to her this morning ; and he observed that
when she put some in her hair she put some in her
fichu too, and wore them there all the evening. Her
audience to-night was not as critical as the audience
at the Portinscales' had been, but it was entertained
by “The Wedding Eve. The applause at the end
was genuine and prolonged.
* Anyone could act in a little thing like that,' said


THE BERYL STONES
179
Mrs. Hardwick ; 'I could myself. What would she
make of Lady Macbeth, I wonder ?'
'I hope she will know her own limits, and keep to
these light parts,' said Grace. “She did better than
I expected, but, then, a stick or a doll might act with
Harry Wildair.'
'She reminds me of some of the French actresses,'
said Lady Jocelyn.
'Isn't she wonderful ?' said Mr. Portinscale,
coming up to Harry. “Where does she get it from ?
That's what I want to know. My wife tells me she
belongs to one of your regular stupid, stodgy. ...
'I believe her mother was an Italian and an actress,'
said Harry in a hurry, and from behind his mother's
chair he sent Mr. Portinscale a warning scowl.
Well ... it wants accounting for,' said that
gentleman; and he cast an apprizing look round the
room. 'Of course, she is too good for this lot,' he
went on in an audible undertone ; ‘any pretty stick
that moves her arms like a windmill would please
them equally well. I should like Réjane and Jeanne
Granier to see her. “Vor den Wissenden sich
stellen,” don't you know? Let's come and talk to
her.'
The two men went off together, and soon after
Lady Jocelyn went home. On her way through the
hall she had a glimpse of her son standing with
several other men near Ursula. He did not see his
mother.
The pleasantest hour of an entertainment is often
the last one, when the crowd has departed and a few
intimate friends remain. Clara's guests had thinned
12-2


180
THE BERYL STONES
down to half a dozen, and two of these were engaged
upstairs with Mr. and Mrs. Hardwick and Grace,
when the master of the house discovered that he was
starving. He invited Harry Jocelyn, Mr. Wildair,
Ursula, Thomas, and his wife to come and have some
more supper with him. They all sat down at a
round table, and discovered that they were starving
too. Mr. Wildair told amusing stories, and so did
Sydney Monkton. Clara, who was soon going to a
fancy ball, and had her costume on her mind, turned
to Thomas for ideas and information. Harry talked
to Ursula, and went back to that early moment in
the evening when she had disappointed him.
"You passed on without giving me a chance,' he
said; “I wanted to introduce you to my mother.'
Ursula murmured something civil and unmeaning.
She found it difficult to fix her attention or to appear
decently responsive. The beryl stones blazed to-
night on Clara's neck, and the sight of them affected
Ursula painfully. She had seen them the moment
she arrived, and at intervals throughout the evening
they had blinked at her like wicked eyes that have no
pity. They frightened her, and in that hot room
amongst her friends she felt cold and nervous. She
wished she could run away; she wished she had
refused to join the supper-party. At last Harry
Jocelyn turned silent too, and watched the smoke of
his cigarette instead of watching Ursula. She knew
that her preoccupation angered him, and she said to
herself that it was better so. The beryls flashed
messages to her—messages of threat and warning.
She was no girl to be loved by an honest gentleman.


THE BERYL STONES
181
At any moment she might be deservedly thrust with
those who herd in gaols, and are pariahs amongst
their fellow-men. The temptation to confess as-
sailed her with its promise of relief, and she needed
all her sense and strength to resist it. Her brother's
presence helped her ; for his sake she must endure
and hold her peace.
Talking of jewels,' said Sydney Monkton to Mr.
Wildair, 'you see that necklace my wife is wearing:
I can tell you a queerer story about it than any
you've told me.'
His voice and words attracted attention. Both
Clara and Thomas stopped their discussion of
costumes. Harry roused himself, and listened to his
host. Ursula half rose from her seat, and signed to
Thomas to come away, but she did not make him
see. She would have spoken, but could not trust
herself to speak naturally, because her heart seemed
to be beating in her throat. So she sat down again,
and stared at the painted flowers on her plate.
Sydney Monkton's clear, cheerful voice came to her
from a distance, but every word he said forced itself
on her understanding.
‘On our wedding-day,' he began, “that necklace
was stolen.'
' It was left about with the other presents, you
know,' said Clara, unclasping it and handing it across
the table to Mr. Wildair. None of us knew at the
time how curious and valuable it was. The Sultan
of Madresan had given it to an unmarried uncle.
They are beryls.'
'I suppose you had a 'tec about?' said Mr. Wildair,


182
THE BERYL STONES
looking at the necklace with interest, and then
passing it on to Thomas, who sat on his left.
"No,' said Sydney; 'the police don't come into
this story at any point. The beryls vanished, and
for two days no one took any steps to recover them,
because some idiot suggested that Clara had taken
them with her.'
'That was a plausible theory,' said Jocelyn ; ‘I
believe Mrs. Portinscale started it ... or else that
stepson of hers . . . what was his name ? ... a
little frog-mouthed man ... always reminded me
of Carlyle's description of Marat. ...
'I suppose you were there when the necklace
turned up missing,' said Sydney ; ' I had forgotten
that.'
Of course he was,' said Clara ; 'and Ursula was
there too. You ought to have whispered your story
to Mr. Wildair; the others know it by heart.'
'Do they know the denouement too ?' said Mr.
Wildair. “I'm waiting for that.'
'The beryls came back the day after the wedding,
without any clue.'
‘By post ?'
No. A messenger-boy brought them, and was
off again before anyone could question him. The
address was typewritten. From that day to this
it is all we know.
'It is an odd story,' said Mr. Wildair. 'I don't
see what the thief gained.'
'Would the thief be liable to prosecution after this
lapse of time ?' asked Jocelyn of his host.
As he spoke, he put the beryls in front of Ursula,


THE BERYL STONES
183
and looked at her anxiously. She took no notice of
him or of the necklace; her eyelids hid her eyes, and
her profile was set and colourless. He thought she
felt ill, and was trying not to show it.
'I don't know much about criminal law,' said
Sydney ; 'I should think the lapse of time would
make no difference. Of course, the return of the
beryls would affect the case.'
Ursula got up; her face was ashen. But the others
rose with her, and she bid good-bye without exciting
remark.
When shall I see you again ?' whispered Harry,
as he put on her cloak.
'I shall be acting at the Thalia in September,' she
said ; ' all the world can see me there.'
'You don't mean that,' he said, hurt and con-
founded ; 'you don't mean that I am to wait till
then, and only see you across the footlights. What
have I done ?'
"You have done nothing ; but you must not come
to Little Green Street again.'
‘But where can your friends see you ?'
'I have no friends . . . except Thomas. I never
can have any,' said Ursula. And she went from him,
her brother limping by her side.


CHAPTER XVII
JOCELYN was puzzled, but he believed that Ursula
had been overtired and perhaps out of spirits. He
thought her poverty troubled her more than it need.
She did not seem to recognise that it was a passing
trouble; either by way of marriage or through success
in her career her fortunes must needs mend. Mean-
while, she had told him in plain language not to call
again in Little Green Street.
How is a man to know when a woman means what
she says ? He could not go to his mother for help.
If Ursula had been presented to Lady Jocelyn and
had pleased her, he would have tried to bring the
two women together again ; it would have been easy
enough. But Ursula had missed her opportunity-
had floated past her aunt and Lady Jocelyn with
that adroit, half-mocking word and smile, leaving
behind her the suggestion of a distant world in which
her relations and their friends had no part. Lady
Jocelyn had not mentioned the girl's name to her son,
though she had seen him often since Clara's party ;
but she had spoken of Mrs. Hardwick and Grace with
a slight increase of warmth, as if she had discovered
in them some new claim on her regard. These
[ 184 ]


THE BERYL STONES
185
tactics were perfectly understood by Harry, and the
chief result of them was to increase his dislike of
Grace. He felt rather angry with his mother, too,
but he had faith in her affection and ultimate good
sense. He hoped she would come round when she
saw that he was in earnest. Meanwhile, if Ursula
meant what she said, the need might never arise.
Her farewell words were tantamount to a dismissal,
and he could not rest until he knew whether they
were conclusive. He waited about a week, and then
he wrote to Thomas, and asked him to dinner in his
rooms.
'I should refuse if I were you,' said Ursula, when
she had read the note. She was sitting at the open
window, and could see up and down the squalid
street. She could hear the usual barrel-organs and
the usual shrill cockney children. Mrs. Hopkins was
cooking fish, and a married couple who lodged oppo-
site had opened their window too, and were admit-
ting the neighbourhood to the height of their argu-
ment. The gentleman had just escaped a teapot,
and was now engaged in dodging a flat-iron. Thomas
was at the window, and was looking on as you look
at a Punch and Judy show, with a sort of amused
wonder at these violent delights. When he turned
to answer his sister, he saw that her face was no
longer listless. She kept the note in her hands, read
and re-read it, and looked both pleased and troubled.
'I think I shall accept,' said Thomas.
What can it lead to ?' said Ursula. "What
intercourse can there be between Sir Henry Jocelyn
and us ?'


186
THE BERYL STONES
With one of the slight gestures she could make so
eloquent, she brought their surroundings within his
ken--the cramp and the squalor it was so hard to
endure, so impossible to let people of the other world
share even for an hour.
Thomas could not understand why Ursula with
her foot on the ladder should be more dejected than
Ursula quite out of the ladder's reach had been.
He had seen her score a success, her agreement with
Anderson was signed, and Miss Hopkins, on the
strength of it, had been to see a touring manager,
whose secretary was a friend of Mr. Tibbets. This
gentleman had readily engaged Ursula to play in
some pastoral comedies that he was about to take
round the suburbs for a month, and, battered by
Miss Hopkins, he had agreed upon a higher salary
than Ursula had ever earned before. Everything
pointed to the improvement of their fortunes. But,
instead of meeting prosperity as youth should, with
faith and a smile, Ursula looked as if she had been
scared by a ghost.
However, Thomas went to dine with Jocelyn, and
found, as he expected, that the young man wished to
arrange for a further meeting which should include
Ursula. When he told his sister of the proposal, he
found she would not entertain it; he had to write to
Sir Henry and make what excuse he could.
‘Beastly unfriendly, I call it,” he said to Ursula ;
and he observed that, after having her way, she
looked more unhappy than before.
By this time the long, hot July days were drawing
to a close, and London was rapidly emptying itself.


THE BERYL STONES
187
Ursula had begun the suburban engagement that
took her out of town every day and brought her
back before sunset. In August Thomas was to have
a fortnight's holiday if he chose, and every evening
the brother and sister talked of the sea and the
country, and what it would cost to get away from
Little Green Street for a week or two, and whether
they would be wise or foolish to spend their last
penny doing it. When Miss Hopkins heard of their
hesitation, she laughed, offered to lend them the
money, and talked of the big sums Ursula would soon
be bringing home.
'I may fail,' said Ursula. “What then ?
Miss Hopkins turned thoughtful. She had known
Ursula now for three years, and she had never seen
her look so ill and miserable. She thought it was a
case of nerves, and that it might easily become a case
of breakdown. She stood at the open hall-door and
considered the matter, quite determined in her own
mind that Ursula must be got away for rest and
change. Presently Thomas passed into the street.
He went for a walk every night in this hot weather,
but Ursula had been too tired lately to go with him.
Miss Hopkins did not seek to engage Thomas in con-
versation, because she was expecting Mr. Tibbets
every moment. His holiday was at hand, and he
was making arrangements to spend a fortnight with
his sister and Miss Hopkins in the Isle of Man. His
sister's young gentleman was to accompany them.
They had tried Blackpool last year, and had not been
pleased ; Mr. Tibbets said there were so many of
the lower orders there.


188
THE BERYL STONES
While Miss Hopkins stood at the door it grew
nearly dark, and when a tall figure in a summer
great-coat approached the house she ran out on the
pavement to meet it, intending to accuse Mr.
Tibbets playfully of getting himself up like a duke.
But the great-coat was worn over evening clothes,
the features were strange to her, and a strange voice
asked if Mr. French was at home.
‘Said I to myself,' recounted Miss Hopkins a little
later to Mr. Tibbets, it's the Baronet ; for ma had
told me all about him, and how she put her foot into
it about the spoons. My heart went pit-a-pat,
because he looked just like Lord Guy in "From
Counter to Coronet.” I said to him very quietly,
“Will you step upstairs, if you please ? Mr.
French's apartment is on the second floor, first door
to the right.” Mr. French, you understand, had
just gone out, but Miss French had been at the
window a minute back, like Juliet at her balcony.
“It's her you've come to see, I'll be bound,” I
thought.'
'You do jump at conclusions so,' said Mr. Tibbets;
she may be a lady he has no taste for at all.'
'He didn't run upstairs like it,' said Miss Hopkins.
Ursula had left the window just before Jocelyn
arrived, and was lighting her lamp when he knocked
at the door. She had heard his step on the stairs
and recognised it, but when he came in no formal
greeting passed between them. She stood quite
still, and his pleasant, resolute young face was paler
than usual. He made some lame apology for coming,
and asked for Thomas.


THE BERYL STONES
189
'Thomas is out,' said Ursula.
'Will he be long ?'
'I don't know.'
“May I wait for him ?'
Ursula hesitated before she sat down, and signed
to Harry to do likewise. He was shocked to see how
white and ill she looked, and how languidly she
moved.
'You are not acting now, are you?' he said.
'I have a short engagement with a touring com-
pany. We are doing pastorals in suburban parks
and recreation - grounds. I am not acting at
night.'
You don't look fit for it; you want a
holiday.'
'Thomas and I talk of one,' said Ursula ; 'we
shall both have a free fortnight in August.'
'Where are you going ?
Ursula said they had not decided yet, and she
mentioned several places they had canvassed and
given up again. She was flurried and stirred by
Harry's coming. It was so hard not to feel glad he
had come, so impossible not to be happy because he
was sitting there. She liked everything about him,
even such small, silly things as his clothes and the
way his hair grew. She liked the whole promise of
his face, its kindness, its clean hardness, and the
honesty of his gray eyes. Most of all, she liked his
voice as she heard it when they were by themselves.
His presence troubled her with a sweet, compelling
strength she could not overcome, and as she sat
there, torn by the old, cruel conflict between desire


190
THE BERYL STONES
and duty, she seemed to grow more frail and child-
like, and perhaps less remote from him.
Will you come to Rivenhall for your holiday ?'
he said suddenly. “Will you come and stay with
my mother and me—you and, of course, your
brother too ??
The invitation took Ursula's breath away for a
moment; it was so unexpected.
Oh no ! she cried, and gave no reason.
'But it is rather nice at Rivenhall,' he went on
persuasively ; 'I wish you would come.'
'Lady Jocelyn does not know us.'
‘My mother will welcome you as my guests,' he
said ; and in the young man's tone the seigneur
spoke. Ursula understood that the hardness of
his outline had its meaning and its value. He
would give his mother her due, but he would give the
woman he loved her due too, and allow no third
person—not his mother herself—to come between
them.
“Will you come ?' said Harry.
He saw Ursula's face change, and he saw that her
hands, the hands he thought so beautiful, were no
longer still in her lap; they were tightly clasped
together, and her eyes were fixed on them instead of
meeting his.
“Will you come ?' said Harry again. He leaned
towards her, and put all his desire into his voice.
No,' said Ursula ; 'we cannot come.'
She looked up as she spoke, but her eyes fell before
his glance of strenuous, hurt inquiry.
'I can't understand you,' he said. “That day on


THE BERYL STONES
191
the river you were so kind to me, and so you were the
other night at the Monktons' until just at last, when
you said I was not to come and see you again. I
could not believe you meant it.'
'I did mean it,' said Ursula ; 'you should not
have come.
The young man got up; so did she.
‘Are you so changeable ?' he said.
' I am not changeable,' said Ursula, and because
tears were rising in her eyes and sounding in her
voice, she turned to the open window so that he
should not see them.
‘But you are,' said Harry, following her so closely
that she felt his nearness as a magnetic fact in their
argument, an influence all in his favour, because it
was so irresistibly strong and comforting. “I want
to get at the truth . . . and not to let some silly
misunderstanding grow between us. Why are you
friendly one day and ... well . . . unfriendly the
next ? Have I done anything to vex you ?'
Oh no,' said Ursula ; ‘it isn't you at all—but I
can't explain.'
The young man's silence became so oppressive
that she turned to face him and discover what it
portended. The lamplight showed him the tears in
her eyes, and showed her the gloom in his.
'Is there anyone else ?' he asked.
Oh no! cried Ursula impulsively; and then he
saw her face change with sudden remembrance.
The thought of Lowe's threat, of his look as he left
her, had come into her mind, and given her denial
the lie.


192
THE BERYL STONES
N
'There is no one you love ?' said Harry rather
slowly. 'Is there anyone you fear ?"
A slight shivering sigh half answered him, yet
told him nothing, and before he could speak again
they were interrupted. Thomas came into the
room.


CHAPTER XVIII
'I want to see you again,' said Jocelyn a little later,
as he bid Ursula good-bye ; 'when can I see you
again ?'
'I don't know,' said Ursula. “I am going to
travel with my company next week, and after that
Thomas and I talk of the seaside.'
Her want of cordiality distressed Thomas, and he
went downstairs with Jocelyn in an apologetic frame
of mind. The two young men stood together at the
open door for a moment, and spoke of the weather,
and wished it was easier to bridge the gulf made by
British reticence and shyness.
'You might let me know where you go for your
holiday,' said Harry.
'I will,' said Thomas, if we do go.'
The hall gas lighted up the boy's face, so like his
sister's in its beauty of feature and expression, but
more subtle than hers, and, in spite of his frailty,
more determined. It was, however, the likeness
that caught Jocelyn's eye and attracted him. He
wished he could put his hand in his pocket, and
give Thomas the money that would make the holiday
sure and easy.
[ 193 ]
13


194
THE BERYL STONES
"You both want a change,” he said ; 'your sister
looks ill, and she doesn't seem quite herself.'
In saying this, he felt that he had reached the
utmost limit of expression and explanation ; and
Thomas, who was anxious to be responsive, made his
answering grunt as sympathetic as he could. Then
the two young men parted with much goodwill to
each other, and Thomas did not tell Ursula of
Jocelyn's parting request. But he wrote a letter
next day that was the direct outcome of it. He
knew of a farmhouse midway between Rivenhall
and their old home on Gorse Common where the
people took summer lodgers, and he asked whether
they would have their rooms vacant a fortnight
hence.
I think we can manage it,' he said to Ursula,
when a favourable reply came. "We shall come
back cleaned out, but then you start at the Thalia,
and we shall be rolling. It would be penny wise
and pound foolish for you to begin the winter with-
out a pick-up. Three years of unmitigated Little
Green Street is telling on us both.'
‘But what made you think of this farmhouse ?'
said Ursula. “We talked of the sea.'
"Not in August,' said Thomas ; and he reminded
Ursula of the wide, quiet common on which the
farmhouse stood. A fortnight later they went there,
and Thomas sent Jocelyn a borrowed book from the
new address. The boy did not understand what was
happening between Harry and his sister, but he liked
Harry so well that he felt sure Ursula must like him
too. They had always seen people with the same


THE BERYL STONES
195
eyes. He had an idea that Ursula laid undue stress
on the difference in fortune between the master of
Rivenhall and herself, a difference marriage would
at once annul. Thomas was too unworldly to attach
overwhelming importance to money and position.
He recognised their uses, but he considered his sister
worthy of them. Since the other night, when he had
so suddenly and ignorantly entered the room, and
thus been for an instant the witness of their agita-
tion, he could not doubt that Harry came as a wooer.
No other interpretation would explain his face as
Thomas had briefly seen it bent over Ursula and
almost touching her lowered head, and nothing but
some sorrow beyond words ever brought that look
of pain into his sister's eyes. He could not under-
stand it, and it was not his way to tease people with
questions ; but he wanted Jocelyn to have another
innings. So he posted the book with a little note,
and waited.
It was sultry August weather, and for the first few
days the brother and sister did not go far afield.
They were content to rest and be glad they were not
in Little Green Street. After three years in London,
it was joy enough to see a great expanse of sky again,
and walk over the rolling plain of heather and in
avenues of scented pines. It delighted them to
see cows and sheep again, to hear the cluck of
hens, and to watch for the rabbits coming out at
dusk to feed. The very sounds of country life
seemed to heighten the pervasive, healing sense of
peace, and when the full moon rose above the
common, and they strolled out at night to see it, the
13-2


196
THE BERYL STONES
silence of night was only the harmonious end to a
long, restful day.
Ursula began to recover, and even to look forward
to a future that would bring her work and money,
and maybe fame. When Harry's image rose in her
fancy, she put it stedfastly away. She had made
up her mind long ago that what she had done alone
she would bear alone. She would never shift the
burden of her misdeed to other shoulders, either by
confession or through marriage. Indeed, her dread
of discovery was felt for Thomas's sake rather than
from fear of what might happen to herself. That
terrible hour had graven in her spirit a kind of de-
spair, sad and unnatural in one so young. She had
forfeited her right to happiness, she thought. Work
was left, and a high ideal of duty. Even so she
would never wake to the day that would wash her
clean. All excuses, all extenuations, now dropped
from her when she shudderingly looked backwards,
and her conduct stood out as those she loved and
respected would surely see it. She was a thief.
To thrust Harry from her had been hard, but she
saw no alternative. To drift with him would land
them both where separation brought acuter suffer-
ing; and separation was inevitable. She tried to
hope that if she had wounded him he would soon
mend; and she did not know how entirely she had
failed to hope for this with any sincerity until one
afternoon she heard his voice again. He had found
her out; he had come; he stood below at the door,
and she, standing midway on the stairs, could not
deny herself to him.


THE BERYL STONES
197
'I met Thomas on his way to Linham,' said
Jocelyn, and seemed to think that was explanation
enough.
'I was just going for a walk,' said Ursula.
She had a little basket on her arm, and she wore
the green cotton gown and a shady hat. He had
riding-clothes on, and she wondered where he had
left his horse.
One of the farm people took it,' he said when she
asked ; and she remembered then that this was one
of his farms. She threw open the sitting-room door,
and invited him in.
‘Let me come with you instead,' he suggested ; 'I
have nothing to do.'
So they went out on the common together, and
Ursula knew, as she walked beside him, that the
battle she thought finished was still to fight and to
win.
At first she filled her basket with heather, and
talked of wild flowers, of the country, of what not-
talked of trifles, though she saw the man's mind was
not set on them, and that he sometimes answered
with an effort, as if he was preoccupied. When her
basket was full, they covered the ground more
quickly, and were soon at a point Thomas and she
had never reached this summer. The common
stretched far behind them and to right and left, but
facing them was a beech-wood, fenced off and guarded
by a trespass-board. Jocelyn took a key from his
pocket, unlocked a gate in the paling, and waited for
Ursula to pass in.
' Are these your woods ?" she said.


198
THE BERYL STONES
'Yes ; there is a place I want to show you : I
think you will like it.'
‘Thomas and I used to wish we could get in here;
we sometimes came as far as this when we lived on
Gorse Common. Does all the common we have just
walked across belong to you too ?'
'It's part of the manor,' said Harry.
'If I could build the smallest hut in such a place
as this, I would never go back to Little Green Street,'
said Ursula impulsively.
Are you so fond of the country ?' said Harry,
showing both surprise and pleasure. “Could you be
happy here ?
'I wonder who has our old cottage now,' said
Ursula, evading his question. "Perhaps some day, if
Thomas and I both get on, we might rent it or buy it.'
It was even more silent in the wood than it had
been outside. The afternoon sun shone on the
beech-trees and on the grass pathways. Without
thinking, Ursula slackened her pace. They were
entering a tunnel made by the branches meeting over
the long, straightly-cut path, and at the end of it she
saw a patch of sky. When they emerged from here,
they were in a great open space, from which a dozen
of these tunnels started, diverging widely, like the
spokes of a wheel. The beech-trees had grown to an
immense height, and stood on guard round this
hidden heart of the forest, which was open to the sky
and free to the birds and beasts, but shut from the
world.
Oh,' said Ursula, “this is where Oberon met
Titania !


200
THE BERYL STONES
· Yes ; she saw you act at the Monktons'.'
‘Does she approve ?'
‘No; she would be glad to hear you were going
to give it up.'
'She will never hear that.'
'I suppose you might give it up if you
married ?'
'I shall never marry!' said Ursula.
In one sense Harry did not take this declaration
seriously. It is what a girl is apt to say, he reflected,
especially a girl who has taken up some work she
does well, and which is absorbing and remunerative.
But he took alarm for himself. It showed, he
thought, that he had not touched her heart yet—not
stirred her to the depths, as every fresh encounter
with her stirred him.
‘Are you going to say you will not marry ... to
the man you love ?” he asked her.
“Yes,' said Ursula.
He had been sitting a little below her, so that he
could look up at the pure and noble lines of her
profile and the haunting sadness of her eyes. But
he moved now, and sat more closely by her.
'I love you, Ursula,' he said ; 'I believe I loved
you the first day I saw you. Are you going to send
me away ?'
Ursula listened to his low, passionate voice with a
face of stone. If she could have spoken at that
moment, she would have confessed to Harry, perhaps
have seen him shrink from her in condemnation, and
even at that cost felt that the worst was over. She
actually tried to speak, and found, as a woman often


THE BERYL STONES
201
does in a paroxysm of great mental trouble, that no
words would come. A sigh came instead.
'I believe you love me,' Harry went on ; 'you
should, when I love you so much. Say you do,
Ursula. Let me stand between you and whatever
troubles you. Give me the right to look after you.
I believe I could make you happy.'
'No,' said Ursula ; and her voice seemed to come
from the very depths of her sorrow. It troubled
Harry, but he did not despair yet. In the misery of
her face he found some hope ; for if she had been in-
different to him she would have denied him with less
pain. He leaned more closely towards her, and took
her hands in his.
Ursula,' he said again, ' I believe you love me.'
With a gesture of repudiation, almost wringing
her hands as she wrenched them from him, Ursula
got up.
'I cannot marry you,' she said ; 'you must under-
stand that, please. We must not meet again.'
* But why not?' said Harry bluntly.
' I can't tell you ; I can't explain.'
The impulse to confess had passed away, and
evasions never came into Ursula's straightforward
mind. But Harry was not satisfied with her replies.
"You said the other day that there was no one else
you cared for,' he persisted.
'That is true,' said Ursula.
‘Then, why have I no chance ?'
'Because I will not marry anyone.'
' Is it your acting that stands between us ?'
Ursula shook her head, and turned towards the


202
THE BERYL STONES
avenue by which they had come. Harry kept at her
side. He did not speak again until they arrived at
the gate that opened on to the common. No one
was in sight. The purple plain of heather glowed in
the afternoon sunshine, and as they came from the
deep shade of the beech-wood, they stood still to-
gether and looked at the open sky. The warmth
brought out the scent of the heather and bracken,
and of some stunted flowering gorse-bushes near the
gate. Ursula glanced timidly at her companion.
She tried to read his face, but she could only see that
he was most unhappy. His eyes were as kind as
ever when they met hers, and she felt sure that no
distrust of her had crossed his mind.
'I am so sorry about it,' she said suddenly. “It
isn't fair that any trouble should come to you
through me.
You have not given me an answer yet,' said he ;
'I should know better how to act if I had an answer
from you. I don't want to tease you with ques-
tions; I don't want to pursue you with an affection
you can't return; but I swear I won't give you up
for a whim or a mistake that I don't even
understand. Can't you say Yes or No to me,
Ursula ?'
‘But I have said “No” quite plainly.
'You have refused to marry me; that comes later,
though. Do you love me as I love you ? I want a
plain Yes or No to that.'
Harry's voice hardly had a lover's tone in it just
then; he spoke with a degree of determination
Ursula had not recognised in him before, and she


THE BERYL STONES
203
looked shyly from him, flurried by the new note of
hardness in his manner, uncertain what to say.
“But if I do, it doesn't help us !' she cried.
"That will do,' said Harry, and the gloom on his
face lightened. “You shall have your way now, but
in the end I shall have mine.'
She looked at him, half terrified, half uplifted by
a sudden gleam of hope. Perhaps in the end, as he
said, she would not prevail against him. She could
almost believe it while she was with him ; it had not
been easy to-day.
‘But you must not come to-morrow,' she said, as
they approached the farm again ; 'and we will not
come to Rivenhall.'
* Very well,' said Harry ; ' I can wait.'


CHAPTER XIX
It was market-day in Linham, and the chief streets
were busy. Ursula walked through them slowly.
She had come without Thomas and with no distinct
purpose, but certainly not because she loved Lin-
ham. Every stone in the little town cried out
against her, and when she got to the steep High
Street she loitered, looking at the poor shop
windows, afraid of reaching Dodsworth's shop, and
yet half inclined to see if he still trafficked there.
She had stopped just now at a pastry-cook's, and was
absently looking at a fly-blown wedding-cake in.one
window and the usual stale buns and tarts in the
other, when an open carriage stopped with a flourish
at the door and two ladies descended from it. They
passed into the shop, and Ursula, whose back had
been turned at the moment, passed in after them.
She wanted a bun and a glass of milk; but when she
saw Mrs. Hardwick and Grace in front of the counter,
she nearly ran away again. They had seen her,
however, and Grace was extending her hand. Mrs.
Hardwick did not go as far as this ; she drew up her
portly figure, and looked at Ursula from head to foot,
as if, Ursula told Thomas afterwards, she expected
[ 204 ]


THE BERYL STONES
205
to see tinsel on her clothes and grease and rouge on
her cheeks. Grace asked her cousin where she was
staying.
Why have we not seen you and Thomas at Boyes
Court, then ?' said Mrs. Hardwick when Ursula had
replied.
'Do you want to see us ?' said Ursula.
'That has nothing to do with it,' said Mrs. Hard-
wick. “It is proper that you should come, and that
we should receive you as long as you behave your-
selves. At least, that is my conception of family
feeling. Of course, I have nothing whatever to do
with your going on the stage, and no one who knows
me will imagine I have. I propose to ignore it as
long as I hear that you are conducting yourself re-
spectably. I hear that nowadays some few young
women do, even amidst such temptations.'
The shop had been quite empty while Mrs.
Hardwick delivered this harangue, but now an
assistant came forward from the inner office and
proceeded to serve them. Ursula sat down to her
bun and milk, while her aunt and cousin went on
with their order. They wanted a large quantity of
cakes, whose quality seemed to be of no importance.
Ursula guessed that they were required for some
kind of charity tea, and her guess was immediately
confirmed by the arrival of Mr. Smithers, the senior
curate, in a state of fussy importance. Grace always
called Mr. Smithers' that nice little man' when she
spoke of him, and her manner to him was just as
condescending as this description. Ursula did not
consider him nice. He had a flabby face, and his


206
THE BERYL STONES
voice was unctuous and clerical. She had formerly
met him once or twice at Boyes Court, and he re-
membered her and shook hands. Then he turned
his attention to cakes, and ventured to differ from
Grace about ginger-bread loaves. But he soon
yielded to her superior judgment, and said he wished
the mental pabulum offered to their youthful guests
was likely to be as nutritious and agreeable as that
administered to their . . . er . . . corporeal sys-
tems.
“I have had a bittah disappointment,' he went on.
Mr. Spettigue, the Vicar of Potley, had promised to
recite the dagger soliloquy from “ Macbeth”—and
very effective and stimulating it would have been,
I am sure. But I hear this morning that he has
influenza. Such a trial ! I really know no one who
can take his place—unless you, Miss Hardwick. ...'
I never recite,' said Grace.
But you could,' urged Mr. Smithers. “I am
sure that anything Miss Hardwick undertakes to
do....!
He turned appealingly to Mrs. Hardwick, and
then his eye fell on Ursula. He hesitated.
Perhaps you would do it for us, Miss French,' he
said. “Mrs. Monkton was telling me only the other
day that you have quite a little knack for that sort
of thing.'
What is it you want me to do ?' said Ursula,
who had finished her lunch now and paid for it.
She got up as she spoke.
'To recite something suitable at our parish tea
on Saturday. Mr. Spettigue was going to do the


THE BERYL STONES
209
He left his widow very comfortable, and she dis-
posed of the business at once, and went to live in
Devonshire near some of her own people. Then a
young man from London set up there with books,
but he soon found there wasn't a living to get off
books, not in Linham. Then these new people
came, and I hear they are doing pretty well. Of
course, they haven't the position Mr. Dodsworth
had yet. I believe he repaired half the clocks in
the county.'
As Ursula walked home, she tried to understand
in what way this news affected her position. She
thought it must make a considerable difference.
Mr. Dodsworth would always have been the chief
witness against her. Now he was dead, and as
his widow had dispersed the business, his books
were probably destroyed. She had gone into the
jeweller's shop when she left the draper's, and,
while she bought a watch-key, had made out that
the woman's story was true. The present people
had none of Mr. Dodsworth's books, and could not
say what had become of them. His stock had been
sold by the widow, and they could give Ursula no
assistance in tracing the sale of a grandfather's
clock three years ago. Ursula, who had really
sold a grandfather's clock to Mr. Dodsworth after
her father's death, said that it did not matter
much. She had only wished to satisfy a question
of curiosity. She went home by way of Gorse
Common, and looked at their old cottage, now in
possession of some gentleman's bailiff. There were
stiff, cheap white curtains at the windows, and red
14


210
THE BERYL STONES
geraniums in pots, and the front garden was not as
trim and flowery as it used to be when Thomas
delved there. She called at Mrs. Smiles' cottage,
but found that she had gone to a village three miles
off; and as she passed the Rectory her old enemy
Susan, smugger and stouter than ever, smiled at
her graciously over the garden wall.
Thomas was amused to hear of his sister's en-
counter with Mr. Smithers, and of her promise to
recite at the parish school tea. He reminded Ursula
that they had brought very few books from which
to choose, but she said she had chosen already.
She was going to read two of Hans Andersen's
fairy tales to the children, or nothing at all.
'I fear Mr. Smithers may not consider them
sufficiently instructive,' said Thomas.
And on the following Saturday, when they
arrived at the parish schools, Mr. Smithers did say
that he was charmed with Miss French's choice
himself, but that Miss Hardwick feared the two
stories were a little misleading. Perhaps, however,
he might be permitted to say a few words before or
after the reading, and explain to their youthful
guests that ... er ... flowers never really came
to life, and that you might melt a tin soldier without
... er . . . causing pain. Then he led the brother
and sister to the top of the room, where his other
assistants had assembled. The tea was over, and
an entertainment of music and recitations was about
to begin. The children were all sitting on benches
in front of a raised platform, on which there was a
cottage piano. The whitewashed walls were deco-


THE BERYL STONES
2II
rated with maps. In short, everyone who has lived
in English country places can picture the whole
scene.
Ursula spoke to Mrs. Hardwick and Grace, and
then sat down a little way off. Lady Jocelyn sat
with Mrs. Hardwick, but Ursula was not presented
to her. The entertainment began at once with a
speech by Mr. Smithers and a pianoforte duet by
two young ladies he described as his talented young
friends. It was a mighty dull duet, and the songs
that followed were worse, because they were both
dull and mawkish. After the songs, Mr. Smithers
read something humorous, and everyone felt more
depressed than before. Then there was a duet
again. As time went on the children grew fidgety,
so did some of the grown-up people. There was a
breath of relief when Ursula went on the platform,
and Mr. Smithers, in one of his funny little speeches,
introduced her. She made a pretty picture, anyhow,
and the moment she opened her lips the humour of
the audience changed. She had asked for a chair,
and sat down. She had no book, and she leaned a
little towards the children as she began :
6" There were once five-and-twenty tin soldiers,
who were all brothers, for they had been made out
of the same tin spoon.”
That was something children could understand.
They turned silent, their rapt eyes hung on Ursula,
their laughter came as she called it, and at the end
a sigh of deep delight escaped them before they
remembered to applaud. Lady Jocelyn had fol-
lowed the recitation, surprised and half alarmed by
14-2


THE BERYL STONES
213
“They hardly are,' said Grace. “Their mother
was Italian and an actress. No doubt that is why
they are so unlike other people.'
'I remember now,' said Lady Jocelyn. 'I over-
heard my son say something of the kind at Clara's
party.
Mrs. Hardwick felt a little disturbed. She
seldom ventured to disagree with Grace, but she
thought these damaging facts in what was, after all,
a page of the family history were better buried.
There was nothing else against my sister-in-
law,' she said to Lady Jocelyn.
But Grace had spoken with her usual acumen.
The allusion to Ursula's descent on the mother's
side affected Lady Jocelyn unpleasantly. It pointed
to a foreign strain in the blood that came out in
irregular proclivities. A high degree of dramatic
power is irregular, and in your son's wife most un-
desirable. Lady Jocelyn did not want Harry to
wed with a sky-rocket, who was never happy unless
she was soaring before an audience; and she
knew, as women do know such things, without any
evidence men recognise, that her boy's fancy was
dangerously touched by this girl. She got up now,
and said to Mr. Smithers that she could not stay for
the second part of his most successful entertainment.
* But Miss French is going to recite again,' said
the curate. 'Surely you will stay for that, Lady
Jocelyn. Perhaps you will allow me to present the
talented young lady to you. I really think I may
say in confidence that she almost replaced dear
Mr. Spettigue. Allow me, Lady Jocelyn. ...


214
THE BERYL STONES
Mr. Smithers took a step towards Ursula, who sat
within earshot; but Lady Jocelyn's voice arrested
him.
‘Another time, Mr. Smithers,' she said ; 'I'm
afraid I must not stop for anything now.'
A little later, when Ursula ascended the platform
again to tell the story of Ida and her flowers, she
felt at first that her reason for being there had
passed away. Harry's mother would none of her,
it was plain. But why that mattered she could not
tell, since she had said she would none of Harry.
She pulled herself together and pleased the children
again, and was pressed for an encore. So a little
poem she loved came into her mind, and she told
them how she once had 'a sweet little doll, dears,
the prettiest doll in the world. After that Mr.
Smithers had some difficulty in persuading the
children to go home. They wanted to stay with
Ursula.
‘But there is a small matter I cannot hide from
you,' said Thomas, as he and his sister strolled
leisurely back to the farm together. 'Aunt Joanna
has asked us to go there to lunch on Monday. She
gave the invitation as a message from Uncle John.'


CHAPTER XX
URSULA hated the idea of Boyes Court, where every-
thing would remind her of the hour that still so
cruelly overshadowed her life ; and she hated the
artificial courtesies offered by her aunt and Grace as
sacrifices to a kinship that had neither affection nor
regard to support it. However, for their uncle's
sake, Thomas and she managed the long walk on
Monday, and he received them very cordially. Mrs.
Hardwick rigidly abstained from any allusion to
Ursula's profession, and Grace talked about the
Jocelyns without recognising that Ursula had some
acquaintance with the son. Both ladies were full of
a new grievance, and ventilated it. The Bungalow,
a pretentious little house not far from Rivenhall, had
been taken by some people called Portinscale, and
they were afraid that awful woman was coming into
the neighbourhood again. Ursula tried to reassure
them. She said that the Mr. and Mrs. Portinscale
she knew would never be out of London long to-
gether, and that even if they had taken the Bunga-
low, they were not likely to be much there.
"You want very little of a vulgar perfume
to make a room unpleasant,' said Grace acidly ;
( 215 )


216
THE BERYL STONES
“Mrs. Portinscale has the same effect as patchouli
or musk.'
On the whole, Ursula was glad when, soon after
lunch, Mr. Hardwick was in as great a fidget to get rid
of them as he had been on Saturday to invite them
there. They were to drive back in the dog-cart; he
had told them so the moment they arrived. And
the dog-cart was to go on to Linham to fetch some-
thing Mr. Hardwick would like to have by tea-time
... not that it was exactly necessary ... in fact,
it was only puppy-biscuit, and would not be needed
till to-morrow . .. but Mr. Hardwick would like to
feel sure by tea-time that it was in the house ...
and if Thomas and Ursula were ready. ...
The brother and sister were sincerely grateful to
the fussy gentleman for being pleased to see them,
and equally grateful to him for hustling them out of
the house.
Next day they went back to Little Green Street,
and by that time the chance of war in the Transvaal
was rising large on the horizon, dwarfing all such
little interests as plays and players. It was not be-
lieved in yet, but it had begun to occupy the popular
mind. Miss Hopkins, for instance, had heard of old
Kroojer and the Bores, and when political news
reached Miss Hopkins it meant that the man in the
street was stirred to talk to his young lady, instead of
listening, as usual, to her 'says I' and 'says she.'
Ursula, to tell the truth, was more interested in the
Thalia than in the Transvaal. She had rehearsals to
attend, new gowns to try on, and the chief part in
'The Duke's Whim'to understudy. Her own part


THE BERYL STONES
217
was a small one, but she was glad to appear in the
long play as well as in 'The Wedding Eve. She
found Anderson a satisfactory man to work under-
patient, just, and careful about detail. She could
not tell yet whether she pleased him ; he gave no
sign. Ursula was, of course, curiously watched by
her companions ; some were kind to her and some
were not, but, on the whole, she found the company
pleasanter than the third-rate travelling troupes she
had been thankful enough to join for three years
past. The Thalia was to open late in September.
Of Jocelyn Ursula had heard no word since she
left Surrey, but in the background of her mind he
persisted. A chance resemblance would thrill and
startle her, and show her how futile her vow was
never to think of him, never to wish for him, never
to be beguiled again by the dreams that took her un-
awares—dreams of his dear presence and of his voice,
his eyes, his words, all set to woo her. She meant to
whistle him to the winds ; but what her reason
dictated her heart took no account of. The heart,
when it is touched deeply, is neither moral nor sub-
missive, but will beat to the tune you have said your
ears shall not hear. Ursula tried to school herself
to forgetfulness and indifference, but there were
moments when her honest spirit knew that all her
schooling was in vain.
In one respect Ursula could not have made her
début at a more unfortunate time; everybody was
thinking about South Africa, and not about a young,
unknown actress coming out in a' curtain raiser 'at
the Thalia. But she had a success. On the first


THE BERYL STONES
219
nearly ran against Mr. Portinscale, whom she had
not seen for a long time. He explained that he had
come in search of her, and had brought an invitation
from his wife.
'We are going to have supper at the Autolycus,'
he said ; 'we want you to join us.'
'To-night ?' said Ursula, half surprised that any-
one should think of supper, or, indeed, of anything
except the banks of the Tugela. But she felt grate-
ful to the Portinscales, and had no good reason for
refusing. She was called for the fall of the curtain
while Mr. Portinscale was still speaking to her, but a
little later she found him waiting for her with his
brougham at the stage door.
My wife has gone on with Sir Henry Jocelyn,' he
said ; you know him, don't you? He was in the
theatre to-night, at the back of the stalls. Perhaps
you saw him.'
‘No,' said Ursula ; and against her reason, against
her will, she felt happy. She saw the quiet beech-
wood again, and Harry's face transfigured by passion.
In a moment they were to meet, and perhaps she
would find that the flame had died out; he would be
friendly and indifferent. As she entered the big hall
of the Autolycus she saw him, and knew that in-
difference was not the thing she had to fear. His
manner was self-contained, but his eyes told her the
old story with their first direct glance.
Mrs. Portinscale welcomed Ursula warmly. She
said that this little supper-party had been put into
her head by the patriotic recitation.
' Being harrowed always makes me hungry,' she


220
THE BERYL STONES
explained, as they went into the supper-room ; ‘I
cried all through that beastly poem, but I came on
purpose to hear it. Otherwise I'm not going any-
where at present.
Ursula looked at the lady's handsome, unrelieved
black gown, concluded it was worn as mourning, and
wondered for whom. She knew Imogen was well ;
besides, her host and hostess were plainly in good
spirits, as far as their private affairs were concerned.
No one in England could say more than that at that
time.
‘By the way,' said Mrs. Portinscale to Ursula, as
they sat down at the little table reserved for them,
'I don't suppose you have heard ; and you used to
know him, didn't you ? Poor Crampy! I never
liked him, but as long as he stayed in South Africa
I'd just as soon he was alive as dead.'
With this ardent tribute to the virtues of her step-
son, Mrs. Portinscale settled herself comfortably in
her chair, and helped herself to stewed sweetbread.
Mr. Portinscale ordered wine, and Harry invited
Ursula to study the menu with him.
You look tired to death,' he said in an undertone.
Ursula did look white. To hear in this sudden,
half-told way that Crampton Lowe was dead both
shocked and stunned her. She knew she ought to
say something ; she knew she ought to express a
concern she did not feel.
"What has happened to Mr. Lowe ?' she asked.
'That's the dreadful part of it,' said Mrs. Portin-
scale, setting down her champagne. “I fancy he
was helping some of his foreign friends to loot a


222
THE BERYL STONES
death with a sense of relief; but in this case the
relief was profound and justifiable. The only
creature in the world who meant her ill had died, and
left no trace behind him. She was out of danger,
then, and could walk honourably to the end of her
days, as was her heart's desire. The torture of the
bygone years was finished; she might bury the past,
never quite forgiving herself, but making memory a
spur to high endeavour. Thomas need never know
now. They would live together, and she would
never marry, because she had done what no man
could forgive. She must remind herself of this, for
Jocelyn's voice was in her ears, and Jocelyn's eyes
were watching her. The load was lifted, but the
pain and sorrow were not gone.
The talk had drifted from champagne to the new
play at the Thalia and to Ursula's part in it. She
said Anderson meant to go into rehearsal directly
after Christmas, and to produce it in February.
Will you come ?" she said to Jocelyn, who had
turned silent.
'If I am in England,' he answered.
Going out ?' said Mr. Portinscale.
I want to,' said Harry.
The two women said nothing ; but presently,
when Mrs. Portinscale got up, she walked a little
ahead with her husband, and left Harry and Ursula
together.
'If I do go out, may I come and see you first ?'
he asked.
'Yes,' she sighed.
As she drove home, she watched the newsboys


224
THE BERYL STONES
came constantly to the flat, and lent Thomas books,
and borrowed books from Thomas, and talked about
books by the hour when the boy was there. Such a
boy and girl business it was that Ursula smiled as
she thought of it. Imogen was the only child of a
rich man, and Thomas hardly earned his bread; but
their extreme youth, as well as this disparity of
fortune, made it impossible to think any serious
development likely. Anyhow, Ursula found that
Mrs. Portinscale knew of her stepdaughter's frequent
visits to the flat, and had no objection to them.
' I'm glad when Imogen is out of the way,' she
said frankly. When we're together, I feel as if I
was a barrel-organ and she was a fugue by Bach, and
it's not comfy. I wouldn't be a fugue if you paid
me for it. I'm here to enjoy myself, and I enjoy
myself better when that owl-eyed child is sitting
with you and Thomas.'
‘But when I am at the theatre there is only
Thomas,' hazarded Ursula. "Last Saturday after-
noon, for instance, when they read through “ Every-
man ” together. ...'
Mrs. Portinscale laughed, and said she would tell
Imogen not to go in again unless Ursula was at home.
However, the very next week Thomas had a slight
attack of influenza, and Ursula happened to mention
it to Mr. Portinscale. The following day Mrs. Por-
tinscale arrived with fruit and flowers and cham-
pagne. The day after that Thomas was up, and
when Ursula came back from a matinée she found
both ladies with her brother, making tea for him.
'He is coming to the Bungalow with us from


228
THE BERYL STONES
glanced at, with the sorrow that is, after all, only the
shadow of sorrow when the names bring no memory
and inflict no personal loss and pain.
'Will the Yeomanry fight ?' she said.
'I hope so,' said Harry.
Ursula wondered if he had bid his mother good-
bye, but she did not like to ask. She made no
attempt to speak, and for a short interval Harry
watched her silently ; then, with an air of deter-
mination, he sat down beside her, and spoke again.
'I want to have things out with you,' he said; “I
want to get at the truth before I go. I'll never re-
open the question if you send me away this time,
Ursula, but I am not satisfied at present. Do you
refuse me because you cannot love me? Tell me
that.'
The young man waited breathlessly for Ursula's
reply, which did not come ; but her silence and her
drooping figure gave him courage.
Do you care for me as I care for you?' he asked,
with an appeal to which she at last responded by
a slight gesture of assent that was eloquent-too
eloquent, she felt at once; for he gave a little cry of
joy and triumph, and, without more ado, took her
in his arms. She did not resist. His kisses dazed
her; his voice caressed and worshipped her. He
called her his wife, and then, half bold, half shy,
both boy and inan, his gray eyes hung on hers, and
he bade her speak.
But she found again that she could not speak;
what she had to say would not cross her lips at his
bidding. Her habit of strenuous reserve was not


230
THE BERYL STONES
shadow fell between them. He took the girl in
his arms again, and she whispered that she would
marry him if that was his desire. The thought that
he might never return stirred her, as her father's
need once did, to an entire forgetfulness of self, and
to a blind, tender anxiety for his comfort. She could
not weigh the rights and wrongs of the adventure or
think of the consequences. Whether it would bring
her joy or sorrow, and what in the end it might bring
him, she did not know or ask. She loved him. He
asked this of her; why should she refuse ?


CHAPTER XXI
WHEN Harry had gone, Ursula began to wish that
Thomas was not away. She had consented to a step
of paramount importance without consulting the boy
whose judgment she always knew to be more sound
and steady than her own. There was no doubt
about his opinion of Jocelyn, and yet she could not
imagine Thomas approving of a sudden secret
marriage under any circumstances. She sat down
to write to him, and found it impossible to write in
a hurry. Then she had to go off to the theatre, and
when she came away again she found Harry waiting
for her at the stage door. He was full of plans,
eager, persuasive, and resolute. All that afternoon
and evening he saw her at intervals, and all Sunday
they spent together in his rooms. On Monday he
came to the flat quite early, brought her flowers and
a diamond ring, and a long, fur-lined travelling-cloak
she was to wear when they travelled together to
Southampton that afternoon. It was not until he
had gone and she had dressed for her marriage that
Ursula wrote a short note to Thomas telling him
what she had done. He would be back that after-
noon, and she left it for him on the chimney-piece.
[ 231 )


232
THE BERYL STONES
Then, on a gray February morning, she met Harry
in the empty church close by, and an elderly curate
married them. There were no bells, no music, and
no festival. The ceremony was over in twenty
minutes, and as Ursula walked with Harry out of the
church-door she could not believe that they were
man and wife. They were to go back to the flat for
lunch, and when they got there they found Harry's
man, Dawkins, waiting for him with a telegram.
Harry took it with him into the sitting-room, and
Ursula saw his face fall as he read it.
'Fresh instructions,' he said in the flat tone of
a bitterly disappointed man; “I am to take the
special train at one o'clock. Why, I can hardly
do it.'
For one instant he lingered, the telegram in his
hand, looked at Ursula, looked again at his watch.
Then, after some hurried instructions to Dawkins,
who still waited in the hall, he came back to his
bride.
'I can only just do it,' he said. “Luckily, my
things are at Waterloo.
*I'll come with you to Waterloo,' said Ursula ;
and they were in a cab and on the way before they
took time or breath to speak of the three days'
honeymoon they had planned and were now to lose.
It had seemed so little when they had looked forward
to it, and seemed so much when it was taken away.
At Waterloo Harry saw that he had five minutes
before the train started. His servant met him, and
said that his luggage was safe and his place taken.
The platform was crowded with men in khaki, and


THE BERYL STONES
235
stage door. She earned twenty pounds a week by
the new agreement; she could afford to dress well;
and when she went into society she found herself
a star, observed, surrounded, and much flattered.
She was not spoilt by her success, but she was a little
bewildered ; of a sudden her life had no leisure in it
and no shade. Thomas complained that he never
saw her now, except from a stall. Even Sunday had
ceased to be a day of rest since Ursula had admitted
to one or two people that she was often at home on
Sunday afternoons. The news spread, and every
week her pretty room would hardly hold her visitors.
Both the brother and sister said the new state of
things was wearing, but they would not have changed
it for their old depressing life of failure.
One Sunday late in June they were asked to lunch
at the Monktons', to meet Mr. and Mrs. Hardwick
and Grace. As Thomas wished to go, Ursula agreed
to accompany him. Her aunt and Grace could no
longer vex her—at least, she thought so until she
entered Clara's drawing-room and saw them again.
But Grace was still condescending, and Mrs. Hard-
wick ignored Ursula's success as resolutely as if it
was shameful. By the time lunch was over Ursula
felt more dejected than she had done since she
left Little Green Street. Perhaps Sydney Monkton
saw it, for he took her out on the balcony, and they
sat amongst the flowers and talked about Thomas.
Presently Mr. Hardwick joined them, and he talked
about Thomas too. Mr. Langford was much pleased,
it seemed, and Mr. Hardwick proposed to arrange
with the firm for Thomas to be articled.


236
THE BERYL STONES
'I should like to pay half now and the rest later
on,' said Ursula, when she had thanked her uncle.
'Where are you and Thomas going to spend your
summer vacation ?' asked Mr. Hardwick. Will
you come to us ?'
He went back into the room without waiting for
Ursula's reply, and said to his wife :
My dear, I have just asked Ursula and Thomas
to spend their summer holiday with us.'
Mrs. Hardwick sniffed, and for the present made
no other answer to her husband's announcement.
Then she turned to the lady beside her, a new arrival,
in whom Ursula, coming in just then, recognised
Lady Jocelyn. Clara presented her cousin, and so
the two women who loved Harry were face to
face.
'I think you know my son,' said Lady Jocelyn.
“Yes,' said Ursula.
'He knows those odd people the Portinscales,'
said Grace ; ' I suppose you met him there ?'
'Yes,' said Ursula.
'I am sorry to hear he has been wounded,' said
Mrs. Hardwick.
'He speaks of it as a mere scratch,' said Lady
Jocelyn. She saw the colour fade from Ursula's
face, and come back into it with a sudden flush. She
admired the girl's self-restraint, and she went on
speaking for the sake of giving her information and
relief. “A bullet just grazed his left hand. He says
he has often hurt himself more at home. He is not
in hospital.'
When do you expect him back ?' said Grace.


THE BERYL STONES
239
her of his promotion and of the little scratch he had
received in a skirmish. He called her his wife, and
told her to be sure and send him every paper that
contained her portrait or any mention of her. He
said she was to have a real good holiday with
Thomas, and he asked her if she wanted more
money. Ursula had not told him that all he had
placed to her credit still lay untouched at the
bank.
However, she did have a good holiday with
Thomas at Fowey, and from morning till night they
had their hearts' desire, and were in a boat-some-
times in a small one on the beautiful wooded creeks,
and sometimes in a sail-boat out on the open sea.
They saw Polperro, with the gulls flashing like white
doves about the ancient, rock-hewn houses, and one
day, with favourable winds, they got to Falmouth
and back. And at night or at early dawn the
mournful note of a ship’s horn would often rouse
Ursula, and she used to hurry to the window arid
see some great ship ride the narrow water between
Fowey and Poleruan. Perhaps the lights were still
twinkling on the Poleruan shore ; perhaps it was a
cloudy night, and she saw the sails and hulls of the
newcomer dimly defined ; perhaps it was early
morning, and every figure on deck clear. However
the ships came, early or late, hazy or fine, so they
rode silently into the heart of the town, and only
her to see, she could stay for ever at the window
watching them. Whatever they were bringing to
the sleepy town, they brought romance to her, and
the well-beloved figures of romance, Tristram and


240
THE BERYL STONES
the Dutchman and Sir Amyas Leigh. It seemed
folly to go back to the noise and grime and rush of
life in London when you could look on at a life here
as poetical as a legend, and as mysterious and
fleeting as a dream.
But, of course, they did go back-Thomas to his
office and Ursula to rehearsals. Her new part was
more ambitious than anything she had yet at-
tempted, for she had moments of high tragedy as
well as the comedy scenes in which she had hitherto
excelled. If she could play Olympia in 'The Fire-
fly,' she could play anything, Anderson told her, and
he would cast her for lead in a new poetical tragedy
by a new poetical genius that he meant to bring
out next spring, when his decorations were ready.
For 'The Firefly 'was an old favourite put on for a
short run. At Christmas the theatre had to be
closed for repairs that would take some months.
Ursula was confident and dejected by turns, and
more and more nervous as the first night' came
near. Mrs. Portinscale said the dresses were enough
to make any play go, but she thought it a pity that
Ursula had to wear the best one in a culminating
scene.
'If we are all going to weep, how are we to see that
gold-embroidered chiffon properly ?' she asked.
* Can't you put it on in the second act, before your
husband finds you out ?'
A first night at the Thalia was an event in the
play-going world, and the curtain went up on a
crowded house. Ursula did not make her appear-
ance until the opening act was half over. When she


242
THE BERYL STONES
wanted to hear how the play was going ; he knew
she had been nervous about her own part.
You were splendid,' he said ; ' everyone thinks
so. Had you any doubt ?
'I wasn't sure,' said Ursula. She had her back
to her brother, and was pinning on a big black hat.
“Why is Mrs. Portinscale in blue to-night ?' she
asked.
Oh, that little sweep of a stepson has turned up,'
said Thomas. 'He is alive, after all ... got away
in a British uniform he sneaked from a dead Tommy.
He seems proud of it. Wish he'd died and the
Tommy lived-so does Imogen; we both detest
him. Besides, he's a wrong un, and drinks . . . so
Mrs. Portinscale tells me. Wish they'd pack him off
again ; he's no companion for Imogen. What do
you think he had the impudence to say about you ?'
“I've no idea,' said Ursula faintly.
Said he always knew you'd “end” on the stage,
and asked for your address. I told him you were
too busy to make new acquaintances.'


CHAPTER XXII
'The Firefly' was succeeding as it had never suc-
ceeded before. 'The Firefly' was the play ; city
and suburb went in crowds to see. That autumn, if
you came up for a week from Ultima Thule, you
would not go back self-respecting unless you had
seen ‘The Firefly,' and formed your own opinion of
the new star. For it was Ursula's great acting that
made the play the great success it was. On the
first night the curtain had fallen on the third act
in a hush that lasted for a surprising moment, and
then passed into a hubbub of applause. She had
cast a spell over the most spoiled and critical
audience London can produce, and it responded
generously. Then it went home and wrote flaming
and polyglot notices of her, and told its friends to go
and see her at once. Every night if you passed the
Thalia you might observe posters announcing that
the house was full. Anderson beamed at her, Harry
Wildair fell seriously in love with her, the illustrated
papers produced new portraits of her as Olympia
in 'The Firefly,' and the society papers devoted
whole columns to her. The Moon asked for her
autobiography, and the Whale published an interview
( 243 )
16—2


244
THE BERYL STONES
in which she gave the world her opinion on Female
Suffrage, the Mobility of our Troops, and the Treat-
ment of Confirmed Inebriates. She had told the
interviewer she had no opinion on these subjects, so
he invented some for her. If he had not been equal
to that he would not have been a rising man on the
staff of the Whale.
The bustle and hurry of Ursula's life was, of course,
greatly increased by this increased publicity, and for
at least a week, though the dread in her mind never
slept, she had little time to dwell on it. When a
week had gone by and Mr. Lowe still made no sign,
she began to wonder, but not to breathe yet. Every
ring announced him to her shuddering fancy. She
had not dared to tell the maid his name, and say
she would not see him ; she had not dared to tell
Thomas she would see him. She reckoned it fortu-
nate, if such a word may apply to any circumstance
of so sorry a business, that Thomas was still at the
office, when after six days of suspense Mr. Lowe
appeared. As he crossed the room with uneasy
assurance, Ursula saw that he had altered for the
worse. His face bore marks, of dissipation, and he
was not as smart as he used to be or as prosperous-
looking. Her spirits sank at the thought of any
intercourse with him, and she would gladly have
shown him the door. She did not advance a step to
meet him, nor had she spoken, yet his glance took
in the comfortable room, and the girl whose beauty
he had recognised even when it lacked its present
setting. She had learned how to move, and how
to keep a man at a distance by the chilly dignity of


THE BERYL STONES
245
her reception. Her gown had cost money, and so
had everything about the room. The Portinscales
had told him she was earning a big salary already,
and would soon earn still more. She was a gold-
mine. He had been unlucky in South Africa, and
he had a claim on her. He held out his hand with a
friendly, familiar air.
Why have you come ?' said Ursula.
‘ Because I wanted to see you,' said Mr. Lowe,
and he sat down.
Ursula sat down too, and waited.
'How well you have got on,' he began. “But I
am not surprised. I always thought it was in you.
That is why I offered to help you at the start.'
A quiver of indignation passed over Ursula's face,
leaving her mouth more firmly set and her manner
more rigid than before.
'I have not got on much yet,' continued the
gentleman.
'I should have thought you would,' said Ursula.
'I have not your assets, you see. Sex and beauty
can always find a market. No one gives me a leg up
for the sake of my beaux yeux.'
'I have not exactly had things given, either,' said
Ursula.
'You mean you have sometimes taken them,
said Mr. Lowe.
'I mean I work for them,' said Ursula, colouring
at his tone.
'I have worked, I have begged, I have borrowed.
If I could I would have stolen. I don't mind telling
you, in confidence, that I have no scruples. But


246
THE BERYL STONES
when I turn thief I'm not going to be found out.
There won't be the openings there were in Johannes-
burg now this damned country has a hold. Under
the old régime a man of my calibre might have
arrived anywhere.
'I suppose so,' said Ursula.
‘My stepmother has fallen soft again, hasn't
she ? That's where it is. A woman with a figure
and good features always can. But I shall get on
yet. I mean to have a million out of my fellow-
creatures before I've done with them. I'm going to
New York.'
When !' said Ursula, with an irrepressible thrill
of relief.
His narrow eyes seemed to close like a snake's as
he looked at her, and he shifted his position without
at first replying. When he spoke it was with the
air of a man who intentionally changes the subject.
'I hear the Thalia has to be closed for repairs at
Christmas. It seems a pity when “The Firefly” is
such a success.'
‘Mr. Anderson means to take it to the provinces
and Scotland for six weeks,' said Ursula.
"Ah!
Mr. Lowe took up the poker and stirred the fire.
Ursula watched him with annoyance.
“When does your present agreement expire ?' he
asked, as he fiddled gingerly with the coals.
"At Christmas. But I mean to go on tour with
“ The Firefly.",
"You have not signed any agreement for that
yet ?'


248
THE BERYL STONES
'No, I don't like him,' Ursula admitted.
‘Perhaps you are thinking of the Portinscales ;
but I assure you we need not receive him for their
sakes. Mr. Portinscale as good as told me so. He
means to ship him off again before long.'
'I am glad to hear it,' said Ursula.
Next day she went to her bank and cashed a
cheque for twenty pounds. She addressed an en-
velope to Mr. Lowe on Thomas's typewriter, and
sent the notes to him, unregistered, by post, and
with no name inside. Her debt to him had always
been on her mind, but until lately she could not
have raised such a sum unknown to Thomas; and
directly she had furnished her flat and begun to save
a little, the news had come of Mr. Lowe's death.
After posting the notes, she waited anxiously for
their acknowledgment or their return. But nothing
came. When she met Mr. Lowe his manner was,
perhaps, more farniliar than before, and seemed,
especially before others, to suggest some secret,
intimate understanding that he at any rate enjoyed.
He certainly pursued her. Sometimes Thomas
found him calling when he returned from the office ;
sometimes there was an inevitable encounter at the
Portinscales'; sometimes he managed to hang about
the wings at the Thalia ; once he met her as she
came out by the stage door, and proposed to see her
home. She refused point-blank.
* Either Thomas meets me and we walk, or I take
a cab,' she said. “That is my invariable rule.'
'It is a rule you may break for me,' said Mr.
Lowe.


THE BERYL STONES
249
Ursula looked back at the stage door, and saw
Miss Hopkins, who was Mrs. Tibbets now, emerging
from it. She was going to pass Ursula by with a
smile and a bow, when she found herself arrested.
that she had a person of quick wits to deal with.
She introduced Mr. Lowe, and Mrs. Tibbets said
Very pleased, I'm sure, but looked at Mr. Lowe
as if she did not think much of him.
Mr. Lowe is anxious about our walking home by
ourselves,' said Ursula. 'He offers to escort us,
but. ... A little pinch sent the rest of the message
from Mrs. Tibbets' arm to her understanding.
Much obliged, I'm sure,' she said glibly. 'I've
taken care of myself the last ten years, and I don't
suppose to-night's more dangerous than usual.
There's your regular cab on the look-out for you,
Miss French Shall we have a bob's worth ? I'm
in a bit of a 'urry to-night.'
Get in,' she whispered to Ursula. “We'll rush
’in.'
And she did, winking at the driver as she jumped
into his cab and shut the doors in front of her. Mr.
Lowe was left on the pavement, and while he walked
more forward policy.
It was now near Christmas, and he had not
found a business opening in London. His own
resources, including the twenty pounds sent by
Ursula, were at an end. He had, of course, under-
stood at once that they came from her, and were
meant to repay with interest the fifteen pounds he


THE BERYL STONES
251
for her. As she did so, someone touched her arm,
and she looked up to see Mrs. Portinscale and Mr.
Lowe.
‘Buyin' necklaces !' said Mrs. Portinscale. “That's
what I've come for. Get us a chair, Crampy.'
'I'm here on commisson,' she proceeded, while
Mr. Lowe fetched two chairs. 'I'm to buy a
necklace for someone to give someone else as a
mark of appreciation. Now, what's the best you
can do for fifty pounds ?
The last remark was addressed to the assistant
who had been serving Ursula, and she at once went
off to fetch some more valuable necklaces than
those spread on the counter.
'I am going to take this,' said Ursula, showing
Mrs. Portinscale a delicate gold chain with pendant
moonstones.
'For yourself ?'
No; for a little present. Do you like it ?
Not me. Ugly, outlandish things I call them
all. Why we should imitate savages when we've
Paris next door is more than I can say. I don't
want to look like a Zulu or a Hindoo, and I think
a Paquin frock with one of these necklaces is down-
right silly. Give me a rope of pearls, or a good
diamond star that you can see in the stalls if you
sit in the gallery. Of course, they run into money.'
Oh !' said Ursula, taking up a string of tur-
quoises ; 'these are lovely!'
"You have always told me you had a weakness
for beryls,' said Mr. Lowe. 'I think they do suit
you.'


252
THE BERYL STONES
He had taken up a string of beryls, and was hold-
ing it towards her. But his tone and action were
so offensively familiar that Ursula drew back, and
did not reply. She saw Lady Jocelyn glance at
the young man with dislike and surprise as she got
up to go, and with some vague idea of escaping in
her company, Ursula got up too. But Mrs. Portin-
scale stopped them both.
' Don't go, Ursula,' she said. “This concerns you
more than you think. Oh, how do you do, Lady
Jocelyn? You had your back to me before, so I
didn't know. We have been introduced, haven't
we ? Anyhow, we've met more than once. This
necklace reminds me of the one there was such a
fuss about at Mrs. Monkton's wedding. Don't you
remember ? I was there. So were you. I always
thought Mrs. Hardwick suspected me of stealing it.'
*These beryls are not as valuable as the stolen
ones, but the necklace is similar in design,' said Mr.
Lowe. 'I am sure you would enjoy wearing it,
Ursula. Why don't you make up your mind ?'
Ursula felt that she must speak, and her eyes
were blazing with anger as she turned to Mr. Lowe.
You are making a mistake,' she said. 'I have
never told you I like beryls.'
‘But I know you find them irresistible,' said
Mr. Lowe.
'Do say which you like best,' entreated Mrs.
Portinscale. “The cat's out of the bag. My cats
always are sooner or later. I'm getting the necklace
for you ; but wild horses shan't make me tell you
on whose behalf.'


THE BERYL STONES
253
'I don't accept jewellery from anyone,' said
Ursula.
Oh, nonsense !' said Mrs. Portinscale. "You'll
accept this, and we shall be there to see.'
‘After all,' said Mr. Lowe, “it won't be the first
necklace you have taken.'
For some moments Lady Jocelyn had stood by,
distressed and puzzled. She saw Ursula's white
face and angry eyes ; she heard the innuendo in
Mr. Lowe's tone. She began to dislike being there,
as one dislikes being the involuntary witness or
auditor of a private quarrel.
'Well, which will you have ?' said Mrs. Portin-
scale, too busy with the necklaces to notice anything
else.
“That necklace costs seventy pounds,' said the
attendant.
Then that settles it,' said Mrs. Portinscale. 'I
can't go beyond fifty. You'll have to put up with
the turquoises, Ursula.
'Good-bye,' said Lady Jocelyn, making a more
decided move than she had done yet.
When do you expect Sir Henry back ?' said
Mrs. Portinscale.
‘To-morrow,' said Lady Jocelyn. “He should
arrive at Southampton to-morrow morning.
Mr. Lowe was watching Ursula closely. She
knew it, and yet at Lady Jocelyn's most unexpected
reply she started and turned crimson. The news
came with a crash into her mind, and she could not
understand it. Harry so near! Harry at home
again! And he had rights over her-rights she


254
THE BERYL STONES
had never much considered yet. He would, perhaps,
be difficult to deal with-would certainly make it
more difficult than ever to deal with Mr. Lowe.
Between the two men what would happen, and how
could she keep grief and shame from Harry ?
'I am coming to see you to-morrow afternoon,'
said Mr. Lowe in her ears.


CHAPTER XXIII
THERE was an air of festival about Ursula and her
room when Mr. Lowe was shown in next day. A
telegram had come from Harry to say that he would
come between five and six o'clock, and Ursula had
sent one to Mr. Lowe to say that if he wished to see
her he must come at three o'clock. She had gone
to Covent Garden Market and bought flowers ex-
travagantly, and decked her room with them; and
she had put on a pale-green velvet gown the colour
of the old cotton one she had worn the day she first
knew Harry loved her. It was long, and had great
silver clasps and hanging sleeves. She had dressed
for Harry without sufficiently considering that she
had to reckon with Mr. Lowe before Harry came.
The hour that he kept her waiting dragged wearily.
It vexed her that he should be unpunctual, should
behave as if he might come and go when he pleased,
should arrive after four o'clock, and advance with
smiling assurance to greet her. Her ebbing courage
rose again with her anger, and for the first time she
refused him her hand. Harry's sudden arrival both
embarrassed and sustained her. She had made up
her mind that she must find out the worst at once.
[ 255 ]


256
THE BERYL STONES
“You haven't shaken hands with me yet,' said
Mr. Lowe, as she signed him to a chair at some
distance from her own.
'I am not going to,' said Ursula. 'I have not
admitted you because we are friends, but because it
is time we came to an understanding.'
Mr. Lowe now took the chair Ursula had pointed
out. He put down his hat, and then he opened a
cigarette-case.
“May I smoke?' he said.
The request displeased Ursula. She did not want
Thomas or Harry to wonder what man had been
smoking here this afternoon.
Can't you do without it?' she said frigidly.
'I'm afraid I can't,' said Mr. Lowe; and he lit a
match, and was puffing smoke over her roses before
she spoke again.
* This is the last time I shall see you,' she said.
I always knew you had a temper,' said he-the
most useless weapon in the world when a woman
handles it. She always hits out at the wrong person
and at the wrong moment. You won't reconcile me
that way, and you certainly won't frighten me.'
What is your price ?'
'You.'
That is absurd,' said Ursula. “I refuse to discuss
it.'
Mr. Lowe showed neither anger nor haste. He
moved slightly to find an ash-tray, and then he
took from his pocket a letter-case, and from the
case a paper, which he unfolded and kept in his
hand.


THE BERYL STONES
257
'Ever seen this ?' he asked; and he began to
read aloud : "“Sold to Mr. James Dodsworth
for the sum of five pounds a beryl necklace, which
I certify. ...".
In the midst of a sentence he looked up to see how
Ursula was taking it ; but that was not easy to make
out. Her eyes were fixed on the floor, and she sat
quite still waiting for him to finish. She did not
speak directly.
'I have always known you would come to me with
that paper,' she said, when the silence became op-
pressive. “Do you know that Mr. Dodsworth is
dead ?
“Yes ; I found that out when I was staying at the
Bungalow a little while ago. It doesn't make much
difference; we are not going to let it come into the
courts, are we? But how glad you must have been
when you heard I was dead too!'
“What will you sell it for ?
‘Not for any money you can offer. Besides ...
how simple you are ! ... I might sell it, and then
spread the story.
'I am not much afraid of that,' said Ursula ; 'no
one would believe you.'
She had not counted the cost of her words, or
foreseen their effect on Mr. Lowe. He was livid
with rage as he turned on her, and for a moment she
felt sheer physical fear of what he might do next.
He looked murderous.
Curse you . . . you thief !' he shouted. I've
had enough of your airs. You're in my power, and
I'll teach you to know it. You shall choose between
17


THE BERYL STONES
259
mind to go just yet, and as Ursula did not introduce
him, he got up and introduced himself.
"You have forgotten me, Sir Henry,' he said, with
the jaunty impudence that was always his substitute
for ease. We were near neighbours some years ago,
when my father built Clarion Towers. We used to
meet at Boyes Court, and I suppose I shall meet you
now at the Portinscales'. They've mentioned you
several times.'
Harry's response was civil, but frosty. Both he
and Ursula remained standing. Mr. Lowe sat down
again.
Can't you give us some whisky-and-soda,
Ursula ?' he said. “Thomas isn't a teetotaler, is
he ?'
Jocelyn looked at Ursula in angry astonishment
when Mr. Lowe addressed her in this way. She
avoided his eyes, but she spoke to Mr. Lowe with
decision.
‘Sir Henry Jocelyn is here by appointment,' she
said. 'I have something of importance to discuss
with him.'
Even then Mr. Lowe did not leave at once. He
took out his cigarette-case and lit a fresh cigarette,
and he did this with a deliberation that was
offensive. Then he got up slowly, and smiled at
Ursula as he offered her his hand. His smile was
not pleasant.
'I shall see you at the theatre to-night,' he said ;
‘our discussion must wait till then, I suppose.'
There was thunder in Harry's face as he watched
Mr. Lowe sidle from the room. He had hardly
17—2


260
THE BERYL STONES
answered his nod, and he had looked hard at his
hand before he just touched it.
'How long has this man been on these terms with
you ?” he asked the moment the door closed ; and
he spoke with an authority for which Ursula was
quite unprepared. Her first impulse was to smile at
it, but Harry was not smiling, and, with a sense
of shock, she thought of the short, shadowy cere-
mony that gave him claims she had never realized
and never weighed.
'I knew him years ago in Surrey,' she said. “I
never liked him. He is gone. Sit down and tell me
why I had no news of your coming till I met Lady
Jocelyn by accident yesterday.'
But Harry paid no heed to so tame an invitation.
He had not seen Ursula for nearly a year. He had
thought of her day and night, loved her, desired her.
He listened for the outer door to shut after Mr.
Lowe, and the moment he did so he took his wife into
his arms and kissed her.
‘Oh, stop, stop!' she cried, when she could speak;
'you take my breath away.'
But he did not let her go yet.
You look thin, you look ill,' he said ; and his
voice seemed to hedge her round with a consoling
tenderness. “I sent you a letter when I wrote to my
mother . . . directly I knew I was coming home.
Hasn't it turned up yet ? Didn't you wonder why no
letters came ? Have you been troubling about me?'
"You told me not to,' Ursula reminded him ;
'you said in your last letter that you were going
to an outlying district, where the post would be


THE BERYL STONES
261
irregular and uncertain. Have you seen much
fighting, Harry ?
“A good deal ; I got hit in three places last time,
and had to lie up a bit and then come home. My
left arm is stiff still, but they say it will get all right
soon. I wouldn't let anyone write to you and my
mother, and our casualty list was delayed ...
luckily ... through our being so far up-country.
I saw my mother at Southampton this morning, but
there was such a crowd I had no talk with her. I
shall see her at my uncle's house early to-morrow,
and tell her of our marriage. We will all go to
Rivenhall by an afternoon train ; Thomas must
come too, of course. After Christmas I propose to
carry you off to the Mediterranean ; I will send
orders to the yacht at once.'
'Thomas doesn't know,' said Ursula hastily.
“How is that ?
Ursula glanced at the clock; at any moment
Thomas might return.
'I have never told him,' she said. “I want no one
to know yet ... not your mother ... and not
Thomas ... till we come to a decision.'
What do you mean?'
'I want a little more time . . . till to-morrow, at
any rate.'
"What for ?'
The silence that followed was felt by both of them
to be pregnant and oppressive. Ursula turned half
away from Harry before she spoke, and she hung her
head as if she felt ashamed. Both her words and her
air of confusion struck him cruelly.


262
THE BERYL STONES
' I read of a marriage like ours the other day,' she
said. “The man and the girl parted at the church
door ... I forget why ... but the lawyers said
the marriage was null and void.'
At first Harry felt as if Ursula had stabbed him ;
even his anger did not rise at once. He stared at her,
hardly believing his ears. Then he remembered that
only a moment ago she had melted in his arms. His
love and his anger both flamed at the thought, and
once more, but this time against her will, he drew
her to him.
Our marriage is not going to be declared null and
void,' he said ; "and the sooner it is made public the
better. I don't like secrets and delays. If my
mother had not been abroad and ill, there never
should have been either. We are man and wife,
Ursula. I shall wait and see Thomas now. To-
morrow you will come to Rivenhall with me, and
take your proper place there.'
Ursula took from her pocket the little case in
which she had always kept Harry's rings, and put
them in his hand.
'I hear Thomas's key in the lock,' she whispered.
Give me till to-morrow; I ask it of you. Per-
haps ... to-morrow ... you shall put them on
again.
'Perhaps ! cried Harry. 'How can there be any
doubt in your mind ? What are you hiding from
me? I will not consent to keep Thomas in the dark
any longer. He finds me here with you. He must
have seen my letters come. I shall speak to him
now.'


THE BERYL STONES
263
'I beg you not to tell him of our marriage,
Harry. Wait till to-morrow.'
Very well. I don't like it, but I agree to wait
till to-morrow. But I shall not keep him in the
dark altogether.'
'I must get ready,' said Ursula, glancing at the
clock.
She fled from the room, and astonished Thomas in
the corridor by kissing him as they met. Endear-
ments were rare between them, and when he found
Harry waiting, he expected the news the kiss fore-
shadowed.
‘Glad to see you back,' he said, as they shook
hands. Both young men felt shy, and the arrival
of a maid with tea was inwardly hailed by them as
a relief. Thomas poured some out for himself and
his guest.
Ursula has a sort of dinner about half-past five,'
he said.
'I don't think she did to-day. I came at five, and
found someone here ... that Mr. Lowe who used
to live at Clarion Towers.'
Thomas tried to look expressionless, but did not
quite succeed. He felt uneasy whenever he heard
that Mr. Lowe had been to see his sister.
'He's not a friend of yours ?' said Harry.
A little beast !' said Thomas.
'Then, if you think so, why does Ursula admit
him ? If you and I both think so. ...'
'I am only a younger brother,' said Thomas.
Harry stroked his moustache and looked rather
wistfully at the boy, who had always attracted him.


CHAPTER XXIV
The curtain had fallen on the third act, and Ursula,
with Anderson and Harry Wildair, had been called
in front of it again and again. After each act to-
night she had run back to her dressing-room more
quickly than usual, because she feared that Mr.
Lowe might be lying in wait for her on the stairs
or in the corridor. He knew his way about the
theatre as well as she did, and, through his con-
nection with Mr. Portinscale, he could always gain
admission.
Even in her dressing-room, strict as the rules of
the Thalia were regarding visitors, she hardly felt
safe to-night; she thought Mr. Lowe might make
“his way in. She dreaded the sight of him, and yet,
if he came, she must endure him, and try to arrive at
some understanding. Everything hung on it, and
as the evening went on, instead of wishing to escape
him, she began to wish that he would come. This
horrible discussion with him stood between her and
Harry.
The third act of 'The Firefly' was an exhausting
one, and as there was a twenty minutes' interval
before her call came, she usually rested and had some
[ 266 ]


268
THE BERYL STONES
'Didn't do things in this style, I reckon, when you
were muddling about the provinces with a 'fit-up.'
Ever acted in a barn? Of course, in the States
you'll be starring it ; I'll see to that. But you
won't always fall as soft as this—can't expect it in
the small towns.
Ursula took up her cup of cocoa again, and drank
a little. She thought Mr. Lowe's remarks were like
the blows a cat gives a mouse before delivering the
coup de grâce. She sat there trying to seem uncon-
cerned, waiting for the coup de grâce.
'I hope we shan't be interrupted,” Mr. Lowe went
on. 'I see Jocelyn is with the Portinscales. How
long has he been a friend of yours ?'
'We need not bring anyone else into this con-
versation,' said Ursula. “What is it that you want
of me?'
' Everything. ...!
'I have saved a little ; I have about three
hundred...i
'You might as well offer me a few coppers. Do
you take me for a fool ?'
'No--for a knave,' said Ursula.
Words . . . words,' said Mr. Lowe. 'I sail for
New York to-day week ; I mean to take you with
me.'
* That is out of the question,' said Ursula.
'Is it ?' said Mr. Lowe ; and, with a significant
gesture, he just touched the breast-pocket of his
coat.
* We shall get on very well,' he went on. 'You'll
make a splash in New York, and then go on tour


THE BERYL STONES
269
through the States and Canada. When we've put
by a bit, we'll go back to Johannesburg, and I'll
make my pile. I shall have to keep my hands clean
under the new régime, perhaps, but you can when
you start with capital ... clean enough. I don't
mind coming back to England some day . . . if you
want to.'
'Your programme seems to provide for every-
thing except my refusal,' said Ursula.
My programme is complete,' said Mr. Lowe; 'I
have provided for that too.' He took from his
pocket the letter-case Ursula had seen once already
this afternoon, and opened one of the letters inside
it. “This is from the editor of Classy Bits,' he said;
“he is rather a chum of mine. I think I should go to
Scotland Yard first, but I admit I feel uncertain of
what they would do. You know what a British
Jack-in-office can be in the way of red tape and
stupidity. They might refuse to stir because the
necklace was returned, or because I have delayed
my information. They might charge me with
being accessory after the fact. But, really, the
whole story in Classy Bits will answer my purpose
nearly as well.'
‘But what would you gain, then? Some infamy,
surely ?
'The infamy is yours, my good girl. Here are
you masquerading as an honest woman, while many
a poor chap no worse than you is picking oakum and
living on water-gruel. That, at any rate, will be the
view of society ; it may be the legal view too, and
then you'll get your deserts, unless you act like a


270
THE BERYL STONES
sensible woman and come with me. Personally, I
can overlook what you did. It must be very annoy-
ing to see another woman loaded with jewels when
you haven't so much as a gun-metal watch your-
self.'
Ursula was past being hurt or offended by any-
thing that Mr. Lowe said. Her eyes were sad and
quiet, her anger did not flame within her, as it had
done only that afternoon. She tried to think of
some defence against him, and could not; she did
not know what to say or what to do. Even her
shuddering dislike of him was in abeyance for the
moment. She was thinking of Harry as she bent
her head over the empty cup she still held in her
hands ; for a bridal gift she must take him shame
and sorrow, then. Better for him that there should
be no bridal at all. Sorrow she must bring him,
but could she save him shame ?
Mr. Lowe, meanwhile, was watching her, and
watching the little clock on the dressing-table. He
knew that in another two minutes she would have to
go. Every step in the corridor made him uneasy.
The call-boy had shouted his Orchestra and be-
ginners ! some time back; now he came to tell
Ursula the curtain was up, and as he said so they
heard the burst of music behind the stage with
which the fourth act began.
Ursula rose to her feet, glanced at herself in the
glass, saw that she needed a fresh touch of rouge, and
took up the hare's-foot to put it on.
Mr. Lowe rose too.
I've delivered my ultimatum,' he said. "You'll
ton


274
THE BERYL STONES
obliged to hear Mr. Lowe's undertones and accept
his officious services. Once she sought Harry's
eyes; it was when everyone had finished supper,
and Mr. Anderson made a little speech about the
success of 'The Firefly. He paid Ursula some very
handsome compliments, and presented her with the
turquoise necklace she had seen Mrs. Portinscale buy
at Liberty's. He alluded to the new poetical play
by the new genius, and said that he hoped great
things of it with Ursula, Harry Wildair, and, if he
might be allowed to say so ... himself ... in
the three chief parts.
Mi. Anderson sat down amidst applause. Ursula
put on her new necklace, and the buzz of talk was
beginning again, when, to everyone's astonish-
ment, Mr. Lowe got on to his feet, and said
that, as Ursula could not return thanks for her-
self, he, her friend, took it on himself to do so
for her.
'Just like Crampy's impudence,' whispered Mrs.
Portinscale to Harry. “What has he to do with
Ursula ?'
'That is what I intend to know,' said Harry.
Of course, he always admired her.... years
ago it began ... when he was at Clarion Towers
and she lived on Gorse Common. It's an old story
on his side; but what is Crampy nowadays ? He
says he is going to be a millionaire. Meanwhile, I
should call him a bad egg. However, he's off to
New York next week, and I hope he'll stay there.
There isn't a kinder man living than Joshua,
but he's a bit sick of Crampy, I can see. Such a


THE BERYL STONES
277
What does that matter ... to us ?' said he.
'Sit down. You look ill . . . you are unhappy
... I want to know what the matter is. I have a
right to ask and to know.'
The temptation to tell him, to shift to his stronger
nature the burden of decision, assailed Ursula with a
force she had not foreseen. But his decision was a
foregone conclusion. He would never let her go,
even though her staying brought dishonour on his
name—a deeper, more bitter dishonour than the
easy annulling of his marriage would be after she had
fied.
'I am too tired to talk much,' she said.
But she found that such an answer only stiffened
his resolve. He drew her with him to a sofa, where
they could sit side by side, and at first he kissed her
and touched her hair lightly, trying to thaw and
comfort her ; but her face did not respond to his
caresses as he had seen it a thousand times in his
fancy; her eyes were scared, her hands chill and
trembling. Discouraged and offended, he let her go,
and spoke in a tone she had never heard from him
before.
How is it you allow that man Lowe to visit you
here and at the theatre ?' he said. "What have you
to do with him ?'
'I have known him for years,' said Ursula.
‘Thomas objects to him.'
'I dare say ... but I see anyone I choose.
Thomas is only a boy, and. ...!
‘But I am not a boy,' said Harry.
You were when you went away,' said Ursula,


278
THE BERYL STONES
with the ghost of a smile ; 'you have come back
different.'
Heaven knows that I find you different from my
dreams and hopes of you . . . and even from your
letters. Why are you not pleased to see me,
Ursula ? Have you lost your heart to someone
else ?'
Ursula shook her head ; it was not easy to speak.
But she got up, and Harry took this as a sign that she
meant him to go. He looked at her, both love and
anger in his eyes.
" Why should I go ?' he said. “You are my wife.'
No, no ! cried Ursula ; 'I am Ursula French-
nothing else at all. You must get me to Rivenhall
before I believe I am your wife. I never have be-
lieved it; sometimes I think I never shall.'
"You shall come to Rivenhall to-morrow, if I have
to carry you there,' said Harry.
He waited a moment, and then he took her in his
arms again.
Darling,' he said, 'I came here hurt and angry;
but when I am with you my anger has no life in it,
and when I see you I trust you. My wish is to make
you happy, to defend you if you are in need of
defence. To-morrow you will be my wife in the eyes
of the world. Will you look happy then ? Will you
let me drive the cloud from your brow? Will you
take me to that hidden chamber where your sorrow
lives? You have made me your knight, sweet ;
my sword is for you.'
Ursula clung to him as if death itself was taking
him from her, but she did not speak.


CHAPTER XXV
THOMAS was astonished to find Ursula up and
dressed when he went in to breakfast next morning,
for he knew she must have gone to bed in the small
hours.
‘But you look as if you had not been in bed
at all,' he said. “What will Jocelyn say when he
sees you ?'
Ursula sat down, and poured out tea for Thomas.
Her heart ached at leaving the boy; and what would
he soon think of her ? But what would he think if
she stayed and was imprisoned for theft, or made
the subject of a sensational slander in the notorious
pages of Classy Bits? It was always at this parting
of the ways that Ursula arrived, and always the way
she was about to take seemed to hold less suffering
for Harry and Thomas, the two who were all the
world to her. A woman of Ursula's temperament
can never quite believe that she is as precious to
those she loves as they are to her. Some sorrow she
could not spare them, but it was she who would miss
them and love them to her dying day.
'Take care of yourself, Thomas,' she said suddenly.
The boy looked up in surprise.
[ 280 ]


THE BERYL STONES
281
* I shall be back to lunch, you know,' he said. “I
am glad Uncle John gave me those dress-clothes ; I
could not have gone to Rivenhall without them.
What a jolly Christmas we are going to have! At
least, we shall if you don't knock up, Ursula ; you
look rather like it this morning. Can't you go
and lie down now ? You're no more fit for a
journey. ... Was Jocelyn in the theatre last
night ?'
“Yes,' said Ursula woodenly.
Thomas stole a glance at his sister, and hoped
nothing serious was wrong.
'I wonder what Boyes Court will say when it hears
about you and Jocelyn,' he observed, as he let him-
self out of the front-door. Ursula, to his surprise,
had accompanied him, and now put her arm round
his neck and kissed him. He supposed it was being
engaged that made her so unusually demonstrative,
but he did not understand why she should look so
ill and miserable. Her face haunted him all the
morning.
What Boyes Court would say was one of the
factors that had helped to shape Ursula's decision.
If she disappeared, and they heard that she had been
• secretly married, and that the marriage had been
dissolved, they would say a good deal. What they
said would be to the effect that they were not sur-
prised ; they had always known that Ursula would
go to the dogs in the end. They would say this
strictly amongst themselves. To the whole outside
world they would preserve an inviolable silence that
put Ursula beyond the pale more effectually than


282
THE BERYL STONES
any reproaches could do. But if she stayed and
took her place as Harry's wife, and if directly after
there was a scandal or a prosecution, then, indeed,
their wrath would be consuming, for they would be
involved in the shame and the publicity. Ursula's
fancy made horrid pictures of herself in the dock,
confronted with Grace as a hostile witness. She saw
Harry and Thomas too, beside themselves with grief
and compassion. She never for one moment thought
they would fail her.
When Thomas had gone, she packed a big trunk,
and then she sat down to write to him and to Harry.
She told them both in a few words that she was going
to New York with Mr. Lowe, but that she could not
give them her reasons. She told Thomas that she
would write to him from New York, and she left him
a cheque for fifty pounds. To Harry she said very
little. She left the letters on the mantelpiece, and
then she sent her maid, a girl called Fanny, to call a
cab. So the commonplace jostles against the tragic ;
and as she went down in the lift, cold and numb
with despair, she had to see that she had change
enough after giving Fanny money for household
expenses.
When shall you be back, m’m ?' said the maid,
as she stood at the cab-door.
'I don't quite know,' said Ursula.
The girl was one with her'wits about her ; she saw
enough to wonder if anything was wrong. She did
not understand why her mistress had packed nearly
all her clothes for a few days' visit, nor why she
looked so white and ill, nor why she started off by


THE BERYL STONES
283
herself, when last night Mr. French, in speaking
about his boots coming back from being soled and
heeled, had said: 'My sister and I are going to the
country to-morrow by a three o'clock train.' It
was not her business, as she put it to herself,“ to pass
remarks, but she watched the cab as it crawled down
the street, and could have clapped her hands with
satisfaction when a hansom stopped at the kerb in
front of her, and Sir Henry Jocelyn, in a tearing
hurry, jumped out of it. He would have rushed
past her if she had not stopped him.
‘Miss French has gone, sir,' she said ; 'you can
still see her cab.'
Harry pulled up and listened, and stared down
the street. He saw the big trunk on the top of
the cab.
* All right,' he said. "Waterloo ??
- Yes, sir,' said the maid.
He looked over his shoulder at her as he ran
back to his hansom, which had waited a moment.
'I may come back with Miss French directly,' he
said. “We may take a later train, and want lunch
here.'
* Very well, sir,' said Fanny impassively; but she
did not feel impassive as she watched him. He
showed his driver a sovereign.
'See that cab with a trunk at the end of the street ?'
he said. “Keep it in sight ... keep as close as you
can ... it's going to Waterloo.'
As he followed Ursula, his anxiety grew, and it
must be said that his anger grew too. He read Mrs.
Portinscale's telegram again, the message that had


284
THE BERYL STONES
looked futile at first, and made him vaguely uneasy
on further consideration—'Crampton leaves for
Southampton this morning at 11.40, Waterloo.'
Why had Mrs. Portinscale telegraphed this in-
formation to him ? How could Crampton Lowe's
movements interest or concern him ? He had
stared at the slip of pink paper over his break-
fast, and directly after he had looked up Mrs.
Portinscale.
Why did you send this ?' he said.
'That's what Joshua asked, and I couldn't tell
him,' she replied; I can't tell you either to your
satisfaction—still less could I tell a judge and a
jury. You go and look after Ursula, and never
mind my telegram. Burn it, and write me down
an ass !
Harry did not stop to ask Mrs. Portinscale why
she thought Ursula wanted looking after, or how she
came to take for granted that it was his business to
do it. He stuffed the telegram into his pocket again,
went first to Chesterfield Gardens and had a short
interview with his mother, and then drove to Ursula's
flat. The interview with his mother had been less
difficult than he expected. Of course, his news
startled her, but it seemed to please her too, like a
chapter of romance, and she told her son that Riven-
hall, the old home of the Jocelyns, would suit Ursula
as the right setting suits a jewel. He knew that on
his mother's lips there could be no higher praise, for
the Jocelyns were as proud of their home as of their
name, and all the long line of them had brought
brides there who did it honour.


THE BERYL STONES
285
Harry's cab was stopped at the foot of Wellington
Street by the usual press of traffic in the Strand.
At first he felt impatient, and then he had an idea,
for just in front of him he saw Ursula's cab, with
the big trunk on the top. He jumped out, gave
his driver the fare he had promised, ran on a few
yards, opened the door of Ursula's cab, and was
seated beside her before she had time to object.
But he had never imagined anything like the flash of
relief and welcome that transfigured her face when
she saw him. It died out very quickly, but it had
done its work in bracing him. If she had stood at
the gallows' foot and he had come with a reprieve,
she could not have looked more glad to see
him.
“Where are you going ?' he said.
'To Waterloo,' said Ursula.
‘But our train is at three.'
'I cannot come with you, Harry. Go back
to the flat, and you will find a letter I left for
you.'
'I am going back to the flat, and you are coming
with me,' said Harry.
He put his head out of the window and gave his
order. The man at once turned round and began
the return journey.
Harry, I can't come,' said Ursula, her hand on
his arm. 'I must go on; I have made up my
mind.
So have I,' said Harry.
'I have an appointment that I must keep.'
"With whom?'


THE BERYL STONES
287
Harry would find her letter, and read it. What
would he say? The hour before her seemed hardly
to be borne, and she shrank from her husband as she
sat beside him, because in her fancy she saw him,
offended and relentless, shrink from her. When
they reached the flat, he arranged about her luggage
with the porter, and then took her up in the lift.
They went into the sitting-room; he closed the door,
and took the letter addressed to him from the
mantelpiece. Ursula did not remove her hat and
cloak or sit down. She watched him open the en-
velope, and when he took out the letter she sank on
her knees on the window-seat and hid her face in her
hands. Harry neither moved nor spoke at first, and
she dared not look round at him. Perhaps he would
go without speaking, and she would never see him
again.
Then she heard him move towards her; then, oh,
wonder ! he spoke, and his voice was kind.
What does it mean ?' he said ; ‘for you love
me, Ursula. Your eyes are honest, and they tell
me so.'
'I can't tell you what it means,' she said, rising to
her feet; ‘but now you know what I have to do, and
you must not stop me.'
'Not stop you ?' cried Harry. 'Don't you under-
stand yet that you are my wife ?'
'It is better for you that I should go,' murmured
Ursula.
What power has this man over you? Did you
ever love him ?'
'Never . . . never !'


288
THE BERYL STONES
* Are you in his debt? Is it money ?'
Ursula shook her head. Then she gathered her-
self together, and he saw her glance towards the
door. A slight movement on his part placed him in
front of it.
'I must do what I think best,' she said ; 'I am
not a child. If you try to stop me, I shall ring the
bell.'
But Jocelyn's eyes showed her that his patience
was exhausted and his determination quite un-
touched. He seized her hands in his.
'I forbid you to ring ; I forbid you to stir,' he
said. “You are not free ; you are my wife, and you
must have lost your senses if you think I shall let
you go. How have you put yourself in this man's
power ? Answer me.
Ursula, her hands imprisoned, her head drooping,
dominated body and spirit by the man she loved,
found words at his bidding.
'I once did something very wicked, and he knows
it,' she said.
What did you do ?'
His hands tightened painfully on hers, and she
knew that she must end a moment of unbearable
suspense, and tell him the worst.
'I stole something.'
'Stole ?"
“Those beryls—the Sultan's beryls.'
“Why did you do it ?'
We had no money ... not a penny . . . Grace
would not lend me any. I sold them in Linham,
and bought food.'


THE BERYL STONES
289
'Oh, my dear! my dear!' said Harry; and in
her doubting ears his tone sounded like an expression
of relief. But she could not believe her ears, and
she was ashamed to look at his face.
You must tell me the whole story,' he said.
So she told him of their poverty, of their father's
need. She took him back to Clara's wedding-day,
and told him how Mr. Lowe had opened the billiard-
room door, and just seen her alone there with the
jewels. She told him of her visit to Dodsworth's
shop, and of the paper he got her to sign, and of her
subsequent discovery that Mr. Lowe had bought
back the beryls and the paper for fifteen pounds.
She told him Dodsworth was dead. In the words
she used she made no appeal to her husband's com-
passion. She spoke without pleading, and she
waited for his verdict.
"Why did this man Lowe want to get a hold over
you ?' said Harry, when she had finished.
'He has always wanted . . . me,' said Ursula.
A silence followed that Ursula, full of doubts
and fears, could not interpret. At last she broke
it.
'I would not marry you while I thought he
was alive,' she said. “I would not have brought
this trouble on you if I had known. I meant to
go to New York with him rather than let you
know.'
* That is what I can't forgive you,' said Harry.
'I forgive you for taking the beryls ; who am I to
judge you ? Have I ever been in such need ? But
I can find no words to tell you how wrong I think
19


CHAPTER XXVI
THOMAS found them together when he came from
the office a little before one. He had not expected
to get off so early, he explained as he entered
the room ; but there had been nothing to do,
and the managing clerk had said he might go if
he liked.
'I'll pack my bag before lunch, I think,' he said ;
and by that time he had limped far enough into
the room to see Harry's face heavy with concern,
and Ursula quite broken down with grief and
agitation.
We want you, Thomas,' said Jocelyn ; 'we
want your help, and we have news for you
too.
The boy sat down, and his shrewd, kindly eyes
rested with foreboding on his sister. Hers were
averted, and she did not speak. Nor did Jocelyn at
once; he found it difficult to begin.
'The truth is, we are married,' he said of a sudden.
We were married in a hurry the very day I left for
the Cape. My mother was ill and away at the time,
so I could not tell her. Now she knows, and has
forgiven us. You will forgive us, too, I hope.'
[ 291 ]
19-2


292
THE BERYL STONES
'You must blame me, and not Harry,' said
Ursula ; ' he said I might tell you.'
'Then, why didn't you ?' said Thomas.
'I thought that if you knew it would be more
difficult to keep it from other people in your
presence,' said Ursula. “Besides, I hardly believed
I was married; I hardly believe it now.'
Thomas waited for Jocelyn to speak again ; but
Jocelyn found that no words came, and when the
heavy silence became intolerable he got up and
walked towards the window. Ursula followed
him.
'Go,' she whispered ; ‘leave me with Thomas
for a minute, and come back again. Let me tell
him.'
Directly Jocelyn had gone she spoke in a hurried,
eager voice to her brother, standing where Harry
had left her, her eyes seeking the boy's startled
face.
'Do you remember Clara's wedding-day?'
“How could I forget it?'
* You remember I went to the wedding, and came
back with food and brandy.'
'Four miles through snow, and you were starving ;
four miles back through wind and rain. You looked
nearly as bad as father when you got back. I
remember how you frightened me, and how you
cried.'
But you thought Aunt Joanna gave me money
for food.'
* You brought food with you.'
'I stole, Thomas! cried Ursula, her voice breaking


THE BERYL STONES
295
“What does the man of law say ?' he asked.
Thomas said he knew no law yet, and probably
never would know any criminal law.
‘But I am much more afraid of Classy Bits than of
Scotland Yard,' he said. “Look at the facts. The
whole thing happened nearly five years ago ; the
necklace was returned at once. If it was still
missing, the police would have to act on the in-
formation Lowe could supply. As it is, I don't
believe for a moment that they would. If they did,
they would probably be as much down on Lowe as
on Ursula.'
Why ?? asked Ursula.
“Accessory after the fact,' said Thomas.
They went on talking for some time, and though
Thomas said he knew no law, he displayed the future
lawyer's power of considering the facts of a case
without surprise or despondency. By the time
lunch was announced they all felt more cheerful.
Ursula went to her room to take off her hat, and
when she came back her face was an uncertain glory,
half smiles, half telling of recent tears, like an April
day.
'Fanny has just made me jump,' she said ; 'she
called me “my lady." ;
What should she call you ?' said Harry. 'I
told her we were married.'
Ursula blushed and said nothing, and when
Thomas went to pack his bag Harry drew from his
pocket her two rings.
"Am I still a shadow to you ?' he said, as he bent
over her hand.


THE BERYL STONES
301
in any way, you won't do it from my house, or
while you're supported by my money. I'm her
friend.'
"Oh, are you?' said Mr. Lowe. “But you don't
know quite everything about her yet.'
Mr. Portinscale got up. He replaced the whisky
bottle in the tantalus, locked it, and put the key in
his pocket.
Good-night,' he said curtly, and left the room.
He found his wife still up, reading a novel near her
bedroom fire. He sat down beside her, and told
her what Crampton had said.
What has he got up his sleeve ?' said Mrs.
Portinscale.
'If he tries to annoy Ursula I shall turn him out
of the house,' said Mr. Portinscale, stretching his
feet towards the blaze. 'I hope you won't mind,
my dear.'
'I should mind if you didn't,' said Mrs. Portin-
scale. She looked reflectively at her husband, and
then she spoke again. 'I know Crampton,' she
said. “He can bite. I hope he hasn't got his
teeth into Ursula. She has looked very ill lately.
Last night at the Andersons' I thought she was
going to break down.'
“How can he have his teeth; into Ursula ? A
straighter girl never lived, I should say.'
Sometimes the straight ones get into tight
places,' said Mrs. Portinscale. “There's nothing
sillier than a girl . . . unless it's a boy. Perhaps
there are letters. Crampy ran after her years
ago.'


302
THE BERYL STONES
We ought to find out.'
*I'll bave a few words with him to-morrow,' said
Mrs. Portinscale.
Her husband laughed at the idea of his wife
speaking with any show of authority to her stepson.
But next day Mrs. Portinscale, in an elaborate
morning wrapper, entered the smoking-room shortly
before lunch-time and took a seat beside the fire.
She winked at her husband as she did so, and he
said he would take a turn round the garden and
see if the snowdrops were coming on.
'It's warmer in here,' said Mr. Lowe, and he
took the chair the master of the house had just
vacated.
'A gallon of soda-water is what you want,' said
Mrs. Portinscale, staring at his washed-out counte-
nance with a want of admiration that would have
disconcerted some people.
'I want a pick-me-up,' said Crampton. 'Every-
thing is under lock and key in this house.'
'Joshua didn't like finding you in a heap on the
floor one night,' said Mrs. Portinscale. 'He is rather
particular.'
'I was only sleepy,' said Mr. Lowe, with his tongue
in his cheek.
Mrs. Portinscale made no reply to that. She
contemplated the rings blazing on her shapely
white hand, and said :
What nonsense were you talking about Ursula
last night ? What are you playing at ?'
' It isn't play exactly ... for Ursula.'
* You mean Lady Jocelyn, don't you ?'


THE BERYL STONES 303
'If you like. The better the name the bigger
the scandal.'
“How much has Joshua promised you when you
arrive in New York ?'
‘He never went further than five hundred. A
twopenny-halfpenny sum like that is not much use.
I don't know that I want to be beholden to him at
all. He has made himself very unpleasant lately.'
'Perhaps he's like those beasts you read about,
thinks he must match his surroundings. How
much do you want ? I suppose they have a
price ?'
"They ?'
* The letters.'
'Letters ?'
'Isn't it letters? What else can it be ?'
Mr. Lowe was playing with a shilling he had taken
from his pocket, and now he threw it up in the air
and caught it again.
'Heads or tails ?' said he.
Mrs. Portinscale did not answer, but she watched
her stepson's hand open and expose the coin.
'Tails,' he said. “Then I'll tell you. I can't
for the life of me see why I shouldn't. My
Lady Jocelyn is a thief. She stole that necklace.
I found it, and sent it back. I have the evidence
in my pocket. Isn't that a pretty dish to set before
the king ?
His voice almost rose to a shriek as he blurted
out his story, and he slapped his breast-pocket as
he spoke of the evidence he carried.
I don't believe it,' said Mrs. Portinscale. 'It's


304
THE BERYL STONES
some devil's game of yours. Ursula steal ! Show
me your proof.'
No,' said Mr. Lowe, turning sulky again. 'It's
no business of yours. I only told you to amuse
you. I suppose I shall have to see Sir Henry
Jocelyn. Ursula is very much mistaken if she
thinks she has rid herself of me.'
Ugh!' said Mrs. Portinscale. “I'm going to
find Joshua.'
A moment later Mr. Portinscale, who had soon
left the garden for the comparative warmth of a
small greenhouse, saw his wife hurrying towards
him, and knew something serious must have driven
her forth on such a day in such attire, for, though
her draperies were voluminous, they did not do much
to protect her throat and arms.
'You'll catch cold, my dear,' he said, as she
opened the door of the greenhouse and shut it
behind her.
Not me,' she said ; 'I'm hot and raging. He
says Ursula is a thief ; says he can prove it, and
will tell Sir Henry. He didn't tell me the rubbish
he did you about taking her to New York. He
means to blackmail Sir Henry. Come and turn
him out of the house, Joshua. Why do you stand
there wasting time ?
'Is Ursula a thief ?' said Mr. Portinscale slowly.
What's that got to do with it ?" said Mrs.
Portinscale. Come and turn the little sweep out
of the house !
‘But, my dear,' said Mr. Portinscale,' 'if you
don't mind, I'd rather know what I'm doing. I'm


THE BERYL STONES
305
not sure that I want to turn him out yet. You say
he bites. The last thing you do with beasts that
bite is to let them loose.'
* I'm not going to sit down to lunch with him. I
should choke.'
I should like to see Thomas,' said Mr. Portin-
scale, when he had turned over the facts at his
disposal. “He's a sensible boy, and may know all
about it. I'll walk over to Rivenhall this afternoon,
and if I can I'll bring him back. I suppose we can
put him up ?
Crampy has the only decent spare room,' said
his wife. "You know that. There is a bed in the
dressing-room off it.'
That will do. Have it ready for Thomas,' said
Mr. Portinscale.
He started with Imogen early after lunch, but
as they entered the Rivenhall gates they saw Mr.
Lowe ahead. He had stolen a march on them.
Mr. Portinscale hung back a little.
I don't mean to go in with him,' he said.
But he could not give up his visit, and when
Imogen and he were shown in, they found that
two or three other people were calling at the same
time. Mr. Lowe sat by himself. Ursula had
glanced at him uneasily when he entered, and
then left him to her husband, who ignored him.
When Mr. Portinscale and Imogen appeared, they
were drawn into the group near the fire and intro-
duced to Harry's mother. The old hall, with its
dark tones and large spaces, made a fine setting
for the people and the dogs gathered near the
20


THE BERYL STONES
309
the smaller man could not hope to pass. And now,
as if his patience was at an end, he pointed to the
other door, and his voice changed to one of anger
and command.
'Get out of my house, you cur !' he said. 'Never
dare to show yourself here again.'
He took a step towards Mr. Lowe, and his face
was dangerous; but he restrained himself, and his
frown relaxed when he saw the young man jump up
in a hurry and sulkily slink across the room. It
was only as he opened the door into the garden that
Mr. Lowe spoke.
You to-day, me to-morrow,' he said, and then
he ran off, banging the door behind him.


CHAPTER XXVIII
URSULA looked anxiously at Harry when he came
back into the hall by himself. By that time the
callers had departed, and, except Lady Jocelyn and
Imogen, there was no one who did not understand
the state of affairs. Lady Jocelyn looked a little
puzzled by her son's reappearance without Mr. Lowe,
but she asked no questions. A stranger would have
said Harry's face expressed tension, and his mother
felt sure that he had just been very angry,
and that his wife knew it and felt alarmed. She
continued to talk to Mr. Portinscale about
primulas, and presently invited him to the con-
servatories to see hers. Thomas and Imogen
followed in her wake, and soon managed to remain
a little behind.
'Let us sit down here,' said Thomas, when they
arrived at the first house, where there were seats
and lights.
'Dad wants you to come back with us and dine
and sleep,' said Imogen ; ‘he wants to talk to you.
Will they spare you, do you think ?'
'I wonder why Mr. Portinscale wants to talk to
me,' said Thomas.
S'CS.


THE BERYL STONES
311
‘Here comes dad,' said Imogen.
'Lady Jocelyn wishes to show you her primulas,'
said Mr. Portinscale to his daughter; 'run along,
and don't hurry back. Be interested in primulas;
find out all about them from the egg. I want to talk
to Thomas.'
He sat down creakily in a wicker chair, and
looked up with annoyance when a step was heard
coming their way. But it was Harry who joined
them.
What became of Lowe ?' said Mr. Portinscale.
"We fell out,' said Harry.
'I wish we could drown him,' said Mr. Portin-
scale. 'Did you make him name his price? I tried
last night, and failed ; my wife tried this morning,
and failed.'
'You both know, then ?' said Harry.
'We know what he told us.'
'Did he tell you her father was ill and starving,
and that she was half crazy with starvation and
trouble herself ?'
Mr. Portinscale shook his head. The three men
were all silent for some moments; then Harry spoke
again.
'I told Monkton the whole story this morning,'
he said.
What does he advise ?' asked Thomas, pricking
up his ears; for Monkton's opinion was worth
having.
'He doesn't think the police would take action,
but he advises me to buy the paper and ship the man
out of the country.'


312
THE BERYL STONES
We must get hold of that paper,' said Thomas;
" then his claws are cut. I doubt whether even
Classy Bits would look at him if he had no evidence.
The editor must know what his word is worth ;
Lowe says they are friends.
' I've said I'd meet him at my solicitors' to-
morrow,' said Harry. 'He didn't promise to
come ; he tried bluster. I lost my temper in the
end. Of course, I don't want him to go to Classy
Bits; I'd pay a good deal to get that scrap of
paper.'
"You come back with me,' said Mr. Portinscale to
Thomas ; 'we'll tackle him together. If we can
settle it to-night and amongst ourselves, so much the
better. May I offer him as much as five hundred,
Jocelyn ?
'I'd go a good deal higher than that and think
you had bargained well,' said Harry. “I leave you
a free hand. If you like, I'll give you a blank
cheque.'
'No need for that,' said Mr. Portinscale; and
then Lady Jocelyn came back from the primulas
with Imogen, and they all returned to the hall for
tea. Harry ordered a carriage to come round
after tea, as the walk to the Bungalow was too far
for Thomas.
"We want him back for Christmas,' said Lady
Jocelyn, when she heard of the new arrangement.
She had taken to Thomas.
Ursula looked wistfully at her brother as she bid him
good-bye; she guessed that her affairs drew him from
Rivenhall to-night, and she guessed from the extra


THE BERYL STONES
is
315
.
Very well,' said Thomas ; 'I'll be down directly.'
He took his clothes out of his bag, and then went
downstairs. He had to pass through the drawing-
room, where Imogen was sitting by herself, and he
lingered near her.
• Wish me good luck,' he said.
'Stay and talk,' said she ; 'you don't want to
smoke, do you ?
Not a bit; but Mr. Portinscale expects me. I
believe he has some business to discuss.'
'I didn't know even Ursula could look as she
looked this afternoon. “As the radiant lines of
morning through thin clouds, ere they divide
them.” And Sir Henry looked just as happy and
absorbed before he went away with Crampton.
When he came back he looked as if he had killed
a dragon.'
Thomas sighed.
"There are dragons to kill sometimes,' he said ;
and then he went into the smoking-room.
Soon after he appeared Mr. Portinscale opened his
attack, but his method was direct rather than per-
suasive.
We want that paper,' he said to Mr. Lowe; 'in
fact, we mean to have it.'
Mr. Lowe went on smoking, and vouchsafed no
reply ; but he smiled, and that made both men wish
they could kick him.
'Can't you name your price ?' resumed Mr. Por-
tinscale.
'I did name it to Ursula,' said Mr. Lowe. “She
meant to pay; I found that out by asking the


THE BERYL STONES
317
pocket, when I have the game in my hands ? What
sort of ass do you take me for ?'
'What sort of game have you in your hands ?'
said Thomas. “Suppose you do raise a scandal,
with the help of your gutter-rag, what do you get out
of it ?'
'A degree of satisfaction that I'll sell for a hundred
thou., and not a penny less,' said Mr. Lowe. 'It's
an old grudge. When she was walking the common
in rags she treated me like dirt just because I made
her an offer I expected her to jump at.'
* An offer ?' said Thomas.
'Yes, an offer, and a thundering good one. Any-
how, it was all she could expect in those days when
she hadn't a shoe to her foot.'
Mr. Portinscale got up from his chair, and went
close to Thomas. He saw that the boy's anger
would blaze out as soon as he could speak. For the
moment he stared at Mr. Lowe with a horror and
anger that paralyzed him.
Come with me, Thomas,' he said ; 'I think we
have said all we need. Sir Henry's men of business
shall deal with him now.
He led the boy into another room.
See here,' he said, “I'll turn that reptile out of
the house if you say the word ; but my advice is,
leave him alone. We want that paper, and we
don't want to hurry him into the arms of Classy
Bits.'
'I must save Ursula,' said Thomas. His eyes
were sombre and his frail body was shaken with
rage. He seemed hardly to hear what Mr. Portin-


318
THE BERYL STONES
scale said, and to be possessed by some train of
thought of which he did not speak. A dressing-bell
roused both men to go upstairs.
'We must have that paper,' said Thomas under
his breath, as he limped out of the room beside his
host.


CHAPTER XXIX
The evening had at last come to an end. During
dinner no one had spoken much to Mr. Lowe, and
after dinner he had been left to himself in the
smoking-room. Imogen had played and sung to
three people who were all brooding and preoccupied.
Even her stepmother's spirits were quenched for the
time being. Mrs. Portinscale sat close to her hus-
band near the fire, and talked to him in under-
tones, while Thomas sat near the piano, and thanked
Imogen for music he hardly heard. When the ladies
went upstairs, he said he was tired, and went up-
stairs too.
Now he sat by the fire, and listened to the
sounds in the house. He heard the servants lock up
and troop to their quarters at the other end of the
corridor. Soon after he heard Mr. Portinscale's
dressed for dinner, but Mr. Lowe had sat down, a
slovenly figure, in the tweeds he had worn all day.
Thomas had looked into his room just now, and had
seen that there were no other clothes about, and only
a small hand-bag as luggage. He felt sure that the
paper he wanted was in Mr. Lowe's coat-pocket.
( 319 ]


320
THE BERYL STONES
Ursula had said he carried it with him, and she had
described the letter-case from which he took it when
he showed it her. Another incident, so small that
Thomas had not spoken of it, and yet convincing,
helped him to guess where it was. That afternoon,
when he had arrived and sat with the Portinscales in
the drawing-room, he had seen Lowe take out a
letter-case such as Ursula had described ; and, as he
opened it, Lowe had glanced at Thomas with his die-
away smile, and then put the letter-case back again.
The action, Thomas thought, was eloquent, but it
was a self-betrayal too.
He had waited a long time, and the house was very
quiet, when he heard a slight creak on the stairs and
a hand fumbling at the door next to his own. He
looked at his fire, which he had piled up as if he
meant it to stay in all night. He was careful to
make no noise now, and he listened intently to every
sound in the next room. He heard Lowe take off
his coat and throw it down ; he heard him yawn and
cough; he heard him take off his boots and fling
himself heavily into bed. Then he waited for more
than an hour, trying to read, and finding, for once,
no interest in the printed page. He thought of
Ursula, and he thought of the man in the next room.
He understood at last why the shadow had never
lifted from Ursula's face since their father died, and
his heart went out to her for the fight she had made
alone. She had never failed him and never com-
plained. It would have been easy to let him fear
and suffer with her. Her silence had been quixotic,
her attempted flight wrong-headed, but he forgave


THE BERYL STONES
325
When he opened the swing-door, and saw the room
lit up, and the inert body lying as he had left it, and
the spreading stain below the still, helpless head, he
drew back shuddering, and crept through the other
door into the passage. He made his way cautiously
into Mr. Portinscale's dressing-room, felt in all his
coats, and found some loose gold and silver, which
he took. Then he went downstairs into the dining-
room, stayed himself with sherry and biscuits,
opened the French window, and walked away. It
was nearly three o'clock, and a dark, wet, winter
morning. He meant to walk far beyond Linham,
until he reached one of the big semi-suburban
stations, where, by nine o'clock, he could take his
place unnoticed amongst a crowd of bread-winners.
For about an hour he trudged on at a good pace,
spurred by necessity. But he had overrated both
his nerve and his stamina ; he had no physique for
such a pilgrimage. The rain and wind worried him.
He could not hear through them, and he began to
stop and turn, expecting pursuit. He began to
doubt his plans and to alter them. He should be on
the London road, and not on this one, which only led
to Linham. When they found Thomas, the first
thing they would do would be to send to Linham for a
doctor, and they might find Thomas at any moment.
He must strike across country, and get into the
London road. If for two days the papers had no
news, he would take for granted that Thomas had
roused again. The further Mr. Lowe got from the
house, the more probable did it seem, by fits and
starts, that the boy was not really dead. He had


326
THE BERYL STONES
only struck one blow, and under great provocation.
Some men in his place would have rained blows, and
made sure. But the boy had looked dead. Such a
little thing would kill sometimes; and then there was
a name for the man who had done the killing-a
name that was burning itself on Mr. Lowe's fancy as
he ploughed his way through the muddy country
lanes. He could have wished he was lying as
Thomas did, asleep and at peace in the quiet room.
His thoughts began to jump from one extreme to the
other. One moment he saw Thomas sitting up and
telling his story ; one moment he saw himself led to
the gallows to die a shameful death. All the horror
that went before such a death-the shifts, the vain
concealment, the trial, and the execration of his
fellows-passed in broken pictures through his un-
stable brain. He understood how men find courage
to die to escape a death they fear. The night and
the storm confused him more and more. His
thoughts hunted him. He almost sank with fatigue
by the wayside. When dawn came, he could hold
out no more ; he fell asleep against a gate for an
hour or two.
When the world began to stir again, a be-
draggled figure, with wild eyes and pale cheeks,
tumbled into the bar of the Dog and Fox, a mean
public-house on the London road, and asked for a
bed and a bottle of brandy. They looked at him
suspiciously, but he showed them a sovereign. His
bodily fatigue bemused him and blunted his sense
of danger, and, at any cost, he desired a drink and
a bed. The landlord showed him into a poorly-


THE BERYL STONES
327
vocation.
blows, and
1. Such a
there was
killing-a
s fancy as
y country
lying as
niet room.
furnished room, brought him the spirits he de-
manded, and left him alone. Mr. Lowe tried to lock
the door, and found there was neither key nor bolt ;
so, without removing anything but his boots and
coat, he placed the bottle and a glass at his side, and
threw himself on the bed.
me to the
7g up and
Self led to
he horror
the vain
on of his
h his un
3 courage
night and
dre. His
h fatigue
uld hold
e for an
s, a be
cheeks,
a mean
ed for a
at him
n. His
is sense
ink and
poorly-


CHAPTER XXX
THE shrieks of a horror-stricken housemaid called
Mr. Portinscale to Thomas next morning. The boy
still lay where he had fallen. Beneath his head there
was a pool of blood. Mrs. Portinscale had followed
her husband, and she was the first of the two to kneel
down beside Thomas and listen and look for signs
of life. Her face was nearly as white as his when
she lifted it again.
'I can't hear his heart; I can't feel his pulse,' she
said to her husband ; and he knelt down beside her,
and listened too. He shook his head sadly as he got
up, and then he spoke to the housemaid, who still
stood in the doorway weeping and wringing her
hands.
'Fetch the brandy,' he said ; and when the girl
had gone he looked at his wife.
'I don't understand it,' she said. "What has
happened ?'
Her husband's manner alarmed her; it was not
only pity and anxiety for Thomas that was oppress-
ing him. He pointed to the crutch on the floor, and
she saw that the ferrule was stained with blood,
although it had fallen beyond the pool on the carpet.
[ 328 ]


330
THE BERYL STONES
had seen him and given his orders. The minutes
passed slowly, and Mrs. Portinscale soon grew
impatient of her companion's fussy moans and
sobs.
'If he's alive, you'll wake him,' she said at
length. “I don't want him to wake till the doctor
is here, and tells us what to do. You come into
the next room with me, and tidy it up, and make
the bed.'
Mr. Lowe has gone out very early to-day,' said
the woman suspiciously, when she had passed
through the swing-door. “Seems funny he didn't
hear the young gentleman fall, and help him up.'
'Do you hear things when you're fast asleep?'
said Mrs. Portinscale, parrying one thrust with
another.
'He is not dead,' said Dr. Harvey a little later,
when he had seen the boy ; and the worst fear of all
was lifted from Mrs. Portinscale's mind. She had
looked old and haggard while she watched the doctor
make his examination, and gave him the assistance
he required. He dressed the wound on the head,
and for the present he asked no questions.
“He may wake any moment,' he said, 'or he may
lie like this for days. He may be able to tell us what
happened, or he may forget all about it. He has
concussion of the brain.'
That afternoon Thomas opened his eyes. Harry
and Ursula were both sitting by him, and Ursula
had been crying. But when Thomas saw her he:
smiled.


332
THE BERYL STONES
Mr. Portinscale could not make further inquiries
about his daughter's future just then, for a servant
came in and said someone was waiting in the hall to
speak to him. He went out, and soon came back
again.
“It's the landlord of the Dog and Fox-that
public-house at the cross-roads,' he said to his wife.
• I'm going with him ; it seems that Lowe is
there.
He was away nearly three hours, and when he
came he gave orders for everything belonging to
Mr. Lowe to be packed immediately and sent to him
in the trap from the Dog and Fox that was waiting
outside. Then he went to the drawing-room, where
he found his wife and Harry Jocelyn. Ursula and
Imogen were both upstairs.
'That's done with, I hope,' he said with satisfac-
tion; 'he'll be able to sail on Friday.'
* But how did he come to be at the Dog and Fox ?
and why did he send for you?' asked Mrs. Portin-
scale.
‘He didn't send for me ; he shook with terror
when I walked in. He arrived there about seven
o'clock this morning, the landlord says, spattered
with mud and quite exhausted. They let him have
a wretched little room and a bottle of brandy, and
never troubled any more about him for hours. Then
they found him in a stupor, and got frightened.
“ The gentleman didn't seem quite naturally drunk,”
the landlord said ; so they searched his pockets, and
found letters with his name and this address. By
the time I got there he had slept the worst off. He


334
THE BERYL STONES
Mr. Portinscale, which he read and handed to the
others. It was one sent at his request by the
doctor on board the Falcon to say that Mr. Lowe
had arrived, and was suffering from alcoholic
neuritis, but would probably recover during the
voyage.
When Harry and Ursula got to Rivenhall they
found that some of the party at Boyes Court had
come to call, and, in their own way, offer their
congratulations.
When Sydney told us you were married, none of
us believed him,' said Grace to her cousin—'at
least, mother and I could not. We thought the
African sun must have affected poor Sir Henry's
head. But now Lady Jocelyn has confirmed the
news, so I suppose we must accept you. Shall you
leave the stage ?
“We have not made any plans yet,' said Ursula.
‘But where were you married ? and when were
you married ? and why were we not told? You
will have to come and make your peace with mother.
She is annoyed about the whole business.'
'How is Thomas ?" said Mr. Hardwick, coming
up to his niece. “I hear Thomas has fallen and hurt
himself badly, and is lying ill at the Bungalow, that
draughty little house on the Linham road. I used
to know it when Captain Forester lived there. Who
is looking after Thomas ? Could he see me if I
called ? I might go and see him, and take him a
little Brand's essence and a screen. I am sure in
that house a screen--'.
' He has everything he wants, thank you, Uncle


THE BERYL STONES
335
John,' said Ursula. He will be up to-morrow or
next day, and very glad to see you.'
'Come to tea to-morrow,' whispered Clara to her
cousin, as she went away. “Sydney wants to see
you, and he could not come with us to-day.'
While Harry went through the hall with his de-
parting guests, Lady Jocelyn and Ursula drew closer
to the fire.
'I never did like your cousin Grace, my dear,'
murmured the older lady. “I used to be in mortal
fear that Harry would bring her home. She is such
a determined young woman, and at one time she had
certainly cast an eye on us.'
When Harry came back to the fire he found his
wife listening with mirthful and fascinated eyes to
stories of his bad deeds as a boy. He sat down too,
but at first his thoughts wandered from this peaceful
fireside to the ship on its way to New York. Then
they came back to Ursula with great joy and relief.
When he watched her happy face, when her eyes
met his on his own hearth, he knew that the heavy
shadow had gone. Only sometimes the memory of
it would flash across her mind, and leave her voice a
little sad, her glance more tender. She thought life
could not be long enough to thank him for his faith
in her, and he looked forward along the years, and
wondered how he could make up to her for what
she had undergone. So they stood together facing the
future, supported by their deep affection, inspired
by their resolve. They sat in Harry's room after Lady
Jocelyn had gone upstairs, and made many plans.
It was decided that Ursula should leave the stage.


336
THE BERYL STONES
'It seems so much to give up for me,' said Harry ;
* yet I confess I wish it.'
'I was sure you would,' said Ursula, whose re-
nunciation was not made without pain.
You are right, too,' she added after a time ; "the
stage life and my life as your wife would not combine
well. Your mother declares she is going to live at
Rivenhall Cottage ; if she does, I suppose you will
want me to look after things here. I could not do
that and be acting in London and all about the
world. I have changed my profession. But some-
times I will read fairy tales to the village children at
your parish schools.'
'I suppose Thomas will keep on the flat,' said
Harry.
'I should think he would take lodgings again,'
said Ursula. “I wish Mrs. Tibbets would look after
him; I might ask her.'
She did not like to tell Harry that Thomas could
not afford the flat now that her earnings would
not be coming in to pay the greater share of the
expenses. But Harry began to talk of money, and
told her some facts about his income and the allow-
ance he proposed to make her that took her breath
away.
'I had no idea I had married such a rich man,' she
said. “If you give me all that money, can I give
some of it to Thomas for a year or two, until he earns
more ?'
“Of course you can,' said Harry. “But it won't
be necessary ; I shall look after Thomas.'
'There is one thing I want to ask you, Harry,' said


THE BERYL STONES
337
Ursula presently. 'I want to do as you wish about
it. Do you think I ought to tell Aunt Joanna and
Grace, and possibly your mother . . . about the
necklace ?
‘Most certainly not,' said Harry with absolute
conviction ; 'I should not easily forgive you if you
did anything so silly.'
“Then I can go to Boyes Court with a quiet mind
to-morrow,' she said.
Harry went with her next day, and they found all
the grown-up members of the family, as well as
Phyllis and Jack, assembled at tea in the drawing-
room. For the first time in that house Ursula heard
herself announced as Lady Jocelyn, and, as she ad-
vanced towards her aunt, she saw Mrs. Hardwick
look up in ungracious surprise.
'I shall never get used to you by that name,' she
said.
'I hope you are going to get used to me as your
nephew,' said Harry, sitting down beside the lady of
the house.
'I should like to know first why you agreed to a
clandestine marriage,' said Mrs. Hardwick.
' It was Ursula who agreed,' said Harry ; 'I pro-
posed it. I had a very good reason, which my
mother will be glad to explain to you. She approves
of what we did.'
'How is Thomas ?' said Mr. Hardwick, coming
forward. “Have you ascertained anything about a
screen ?'
Thomas is up to-day, and will be out to-morrow,'
said Ursula. 'We saw him this morning.'
22


338
THE BERYL STONES
I have not called on Mrs. Portinscale, so I cannot
call on Thomas,' said Mrs. Hardwick. “My previous
acquaintance with Mrs. Portinscale was very slight,
and, as I hear her present husband is connected with
music-halls. ...
* But Sydney is devoted to the Portinscales,' said
Clara. “I must call on them, mamma.'
'I shall go with you, my dear,' said Mr. Hardwick.
I want to see for myself whether Thomas is suffering
from draughts. I have a high regard for Thomas.
I want to hear more about his accident.'
‘He is not able to talk much about it yet,' said
Harry. “We know he must have fainted and
fallen.'
'I shall go with father,' said Clara, taking Ursula
with her to a far corner of the big room, and bending
over some hyacinths as she spoke to her cousin. 'I
will take care Thomas is not teased by questions.
Sydney has told me the whole story. We want you
to forgive us; we cannot forgive ourselves. We
were cruel to you on our wedding-day ; at least, we
were blind, and whenever the day comes we shall
think of it.'
“It was not you who were cruel,' stammered
Ursula ; and whenever your wedding - day
comes. ...!
'We will meet every year on our wedding-day,'
said Sydney Monkton, strolling up to them with
Harry. “We will all remember, and we will all
forget.'
Ursula bent over the hyacinths, and her cousin
kissed her affectionately under cover of the dim light


BY THE SAME AUTHOR.
CYNTHIA'S WA Y.
By Mrs. ALFRED SIDGWICK,
AUTHOR OF THE GRASSHOPPERS,' 'THE INNER SHRINE, ETC.
Fourth Impression. Crown 8vo., cloth, 6s.
DAILY TELEGRAPH.
*All who like an entertaining Story, well written, and full of excellent characteriza.
tron, bould make haste to read it. An entertaining, delectable novel.'
THE GUARDIAN.
. The book is full of humour, and of what, for want of a better word, we must call
" local colour." Every page is thoroughly enjoyable, and one lays it down with a
deep feeling of gratitude to the author.'
THE SKETCH.
No one who has lived in Germany can afford to miss Mrs. Sidgwick's new novel,
"Cynthia's Way," Mrs. Sidgwick is one of the very few writers of the present day
with a thoroughly understanding heart. To anyone who has lived in Germany, every
page of "Cynthia's Way" contains a delightful reminiscence.'
WESTMINSTER GAZETTE.
* The reader may divine the sequel, but the success of the book depends, not on the
plot, but on the excellent sport which is kept going from chapter t
dialogue is excellent, the characters are drawn with great neatness and precision, the
humour is deep and refined. Whether anybody could be quite so rude as Frau von
Erlenbach is to the supposed governess may perhaps be a moot point, but the
encounters between the two are not the least part of the entertainment. We cordially
commend this book to anyone who wants a skilful, clever, and entertaining novel.'
MORNING POST.
Mrs, Sidgwick knows Germany well, and her sketches of middle-class German
life are true and sympathetic. Cynthia's employer, dear old Frau Klopps, the two
, and their silly, selfishly romantic sister Wanda, are capitally
drawn. Cynthia's own romance is prettily told in this cheery, healthy story.'
ST. JAMES'S GAZETTE.
""Cynthia's Way" is very bright stuff indeed. The sentimental Wanda, who
yearns to marry a "man like a whirlwind," is admirably done, and Cynthia herself
is charming.'
YORKSHIRE POST.
""Cynthia's Way" is another of Mrs. Sidgwick's delightful studies of German
manners and folk. A German girl of the period, a German lady of aristocratic ideals,
other types of German meanness or grossness, are treated with a fine humour :
homely and strong types, produced by the race rather than its “civilization," with
rare sympathy and charm. “Cynthia's Way" is just as good as “Elizabeth."
GLASGOW HERALD.
A very charming story, which should please English and German readers alike.
LONDON: EDWARD ARNOLD.