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In Love nnd War.
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Fortune's Fool.
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iTan de Biron.
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Thornicroft's Modnl. i Tho Loadon Casket
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fated to be Free.
By HENRV TAMES, Jiui.
ConEdonco.
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T" HENRY KINHSM-.V
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STRANGE STORIES
/
ft^ffw
>s
rf
'■'■ He had looked at the child 7i.'itli one of his awful faccs-^'—yt. 26.
STRANGE STORIES
liV
GRANT ALLl-N
(y'. Arktlhiw: Wilson)
WITH A FRONTISPIECE AT GEORGE JUr MAURlEK
Hontion
CHATTO AND WINDUS, ITCCADILLY
1SS4
\AU rights rcsriTS({]
PREFACE.
It is with some little trepidation that I venture to submit
to the critical world this small collection of short stories.
I feel that in doing so I owe some apology both to my
readers and to the regular story-tellers. Being by trade
a psychologist and scientific journeyman, I have been bold
enough at times to stray surreptitiously and tentatively
from my proper sphere into the flowery fields of pure
fiction. Home of these my divarications from the strict
path of sterner science, however, having been already
publicly performed under the incognito of " J. Arbuthnot
Wilson," have been so far condoned by generous and kindly
critics that I am emboldened to present them to the
judgment of readers under a more permanent form, and
even to dispense with the convenient cloak of a pseudonym,
under which one can always so easily cover one's hasty
retreat from an untenable position. I can only hope that
my confession will be accepted in partial extenuation of
this culpable departure from the good old rule, " Ne sutor
ultra crepidam;" and that older hands at the craft of
story-telling will pardon an amateur novice his defective
workmanship on the general plea of his humble demoanour.
•*
iv rilEFACE.
I may perhaps also venture to plead in self-defence that
though these stories do not profess to be anything more
than mere short sensational tales, I have yet endeavoured
to give to most of them some slight tinge of scientific or
psychological import and meaning. " The Reverend John
< "reedy," for example, is a study from within of a singular
persistence of hereditary character, well known to all
students of modern anthropological papers and reports.
IVIcmbers of barbarous or savage races, trained for a timo
in civilized habits, are liable at any moment to revert
naturally to their primitive condition, especially under the
contagious influence of companionship with persons of
their own blood, and close subjection to the ancestral cir-
cumstances. The tale which I ha\'o based upon several
such historical instances in real life endeavours briefly to
hint at the modes of feeling likely to accompany such a
relapse into barbarism in an essentially fine and sensitive
savage nature. To most European readers, no doubt, such
a sheer fall from the pinnacle of civilization to the netlier-
most abysses of savagery, would seem to call for the dis-
play of no other emotion than pure disgust and aversion ;
but those who know intimately the whole gamut of the in-
tensely impressionable African mind will be able to treat
its temptations and its tendencies far more sj'mpathetic-
ally. In " The Curate of Churnside," again, I have tried
to present a psychical analj-^sis of a temperament not
uncommon among the cultured class of the Italian
Ivonaissanco, and less rare than many people will be
inclined to imagine among the colder type of our own
emancipated and cultivated classes. The union of high
intellectual and aesthetic culture with a total want of moral
sensibility is a recognized fact in many periods of history,
r RE FACE. ir
tlioiigli our own age is singularly loth to admit of its
*
possibility in its own contemporaries. In " Earn Das of
Cawnporc," once more, I have attempted to depict a few
circumstances of the Indian Mutiny as tho;y' must naturally
have presented themselves to the mind and feelings of a
humble native actor in that great and terrible drama.
Accustomed ourselves to locking always at the massacres
and reprisals of the Mutiny from a purely English point
of view, wo are liable to forget that eveiy act of tho
mutineers and their aiders or abettors must have been
fully justified in their own eyes, at the moment at least, as
every act of every human being always is to his own inner
personality. In his conscience of conscience, no man ever
really believes that under given circumstances ho could
conceivably have acted otherwise than ho actually did.
If he persuades himself that he does really so believe, then
he shows himself at once to be a very poor introspective
psychologist. " The Child of the Phalanstery," to take
another case, is a more ideal effort to realize the moral
conceptions of a community brought up under a social and
ethical environment utterly dilFerent from that by which
we ourselves are now surrounded. In like manner, almost
all the stories (except the lightest among them) have their
germ or prime motive in some scientific or quasi-scientific;
idea ; and this narrow link which' thus connects them at
bottom with my more habitual sphere of work must serve
as my excuse to the regular story-tellers for an otherwiso
unwarrantable intrusion upon their private preserves. I
trust they will forgive me on this plea for my trespass on
their legitimate domains, and allow me to occupy in peace
a little adjacent corner of unclaimed territory, which lies
so temptingly close beside my own small original freehold.
▼i PREFACE.
I should add that " Tho Reverend John Creedy," " The
Curate cf Churnside," " Dr. Greatrex's Engagement," and
" The Backslider," have already appeared in tho Cornh'lt
Magazine ; while " Tho Foundering of the Fortuna " was
first published in Longman's Magazine. The remainder of
the tales comprised in this volume have seen the light
originally in the pages of Belgravia. I have to thank tho
courtesy of tho publishers and editors of those periodicals-
for kind permission to reprint them here.
G. A.
The Nook, Dorkixg,
October 12, 1884.
CONTENTS.
PA(;r.
47
CG
100
I HE Keverexd John Greedy i
Dit. CiitEATREx's Engagement ... oi
Mr. Chung
The Curate of Churnside
An Episode in High Life ...
My Kew Year's Eve among the Mummies ... 12(;
The Foundering of the "Fortuna" ... 144
The Backslider ... ... ... 204
The Mysterious Occurrence in Piccadilly ... ... I'ji
Carvalho
Pausodyne
*•• •••
The Empress of Andorra
The Senior Proctor's Wooing
The Child of the Phalanstery...
Our Scientific Observations on a Ghost ... ... 39 1
Ram Das of Cawnpore ... ... 3^.
207
2U
or.-
. 278
301
STRANGE STORIES.
THE REVEREND JOHN CREED Y.
I.
*' On Sunday next, the 14tli inst., tho Eevercnd Joliii
Crcetly, B.A., of ]\Ia2;(lalcu College, Oxford, Avill preach iu
"Walton Magna Church, on Lchalf of tho Gold Coast
Mission." Not a very startling announcement that, and
yet, simple as it looks, it stirred Ethel Berry's soul to its
inmost depths. For Ethel had been brought up by her
Aunt Emily to look upon foreign missions as tho ono
thing on earth worth living for and thinking about, and
the Kcverend John Creedy, B.A., had a missionary history
of his own, strange enough oven in these strange days of
queer juxtapositions between utter savagery and advanced
civilization.
" Only think," she said to her annt, as they read tho
placard on the schoolhouse-board, " he's a real African
negro, tho vicar says, taken from a slaver on tho Gold
Coast when ho was a child, and brought to England to bo
educated. He's been to Oxford and got a degree ; and
now he's going out again to Africa to convert his own
people. And he's coming down to the vicar's to stay on
Wednesday."
" It's my belief," said old Uncle James, Aunt Emily's
2 STlLiNGE STORIES.
Lrotlier, the .superannuated skip])cr, " that lio'd much
licttor stop in England for ever. I'vo been a good bit on
the Coast myself in my time, after palm oil and such, and
my opinion is that a nigger's a nigger anywhere, but he's
a sight less of a nigger in England than out yonder in
Africa. Take him to England, and you make a gentle-
man of him : send him home again, and the nigger
comes out at once in spite of you."
" Oh, James," Aunt Emily put in, *' how can you talk
such unchristianliko talk, setting yourself up against
iiiissions, when wo know that all the nations of tho
eartli are made of one blood ? "
"I'vo always lived a Christian life myself, '•^luily,"
answered Uncle James, " though I have cruised a good bit
on the Coast, too, which is against it, certainly ; but I
take it a nigger's a nigger whatever you do with him.
The Ethiopian cannot change his skin, tho Scripture
•says, nor tlie leopard his 'pots, and a nigger he'll bo to
tho end of his days ; you mark my words, Emily."
On Wednesday, in due course, the Eeverend John
Creedy arrived at the vicarage, and much curiosity there
was throughout tho village of Walton Magna that week
to see this curious new thing, a coal-black parson.
Next day, Thursday, an almost equally unusual event
occurred to Ethel Berry, for, to her great surprise, she got
a little note in the morning inviting her up to a tennis
jiarty at the vicarage the same afternoon. Now, though
the vicar called on Aunt Emily often enough, and accepted
her helj) readily for school feasts and other village festi-
vities of the milder sort, tho Berrys were hardly up to
that level of society which is commonly invited to the
parson's lawn tennis parties. And the reason why Ethel
was asked on this particular Thursday must bo traced
to a certain pious conspiracy between the vicar and the
secretary of the Gold Coast Evangelistic Society. When
those two eminent missionary advocates had met a fort-
THE llKVEriESD JOIIX CREEDY.
Tiiglit before at Exctur TTall, tlie secretary had reprcsoiitocl
to the vicar tlio dosirabilily (»f young John Crcetly's
taking to himself an En<>;lisli \vifo before his departure.
" It ^vill steady him, and kecsp him right on the Coast," ho
said, "and it will give him importance in the eyes of
the natives as ■vvdl." "Whereto tlio vicar responded that
jio knew exactly the right ^irl to suit the place in his own
jjarish, and that l>y a i)rovideutial conjunction she already
took a deep interest in foreign missions. So these two
good men conspired in all innocence of heart to sell poor
Kthel into African slavery ; and the vicar had asked
John C reedy down to AValtun Magna on purpose to
meet her.
That afternoon Ethel put on lior pretty sateen and her
witching little white hat, with two natural dog-roses
pinned on one side, and went pleased and proud up to tlio
vicarage. The licvcrend John (Jrcedy was there, not in
full clerical costume, but arraj-ed in tennis flannels, with
only a loose white tie beneath his flap collar to mark
his newly acquired spiritual dignity, lie was a comely
looking negro enough, full-blooded, but not too broad-
faced nor painfully African in type ; and when ho was
playing tennis his athletic quick limbs and his really
handsome build took away greatly from the general im-
pression of an inferior race. His voice was of the ordinary
Oxford type, open, pleasant, and refined, with a certain
<^asy-going air of natural gentility, hardly marred by just
the faintest tinge of the thick negro blur in the broad
vowels. AVhen he talked to Ethel — and the vicar's wife
took good care that they should talk together a great
deal — his conversation was of a sort that she seldom heard
at Walton Magna. It was full of London and Oxford, of
boat-races at Iffley and cricket matches at Lord's; of
people and books whoso very names Ethel had never
heard — one of them was a jMr. Mill, she thought, and
another a Mr. Aristotle — but which she felt vaguely to bo
4 STRANGE SroniES.
ono stop hifijhor in tho intolloctual scale than lier own
level. Tlien lii.s frieiulH, to wliom ho alluded caHually,
not liko ono who airs his grand acqnaintancuH, were siieli
very dlHtinf^uished people. Tliero was a real live lord,
apparently, at tho sarao collei^o with him, and ho spoke
of a yonnf;; baronet whoso estate lay close hy, as plain
" Harrinj^ton of Christchurch," without any " Sir Arthur"
— a thirif^ wliich oven tho vicar himself would hardly have
ventured to do. She knew that ho was learned, too ; as
a matter of fact he had taken a fair second class in Greats
at Oxford ; and he could talk delif^htfnlly of poetry and
novels. To say the truth, Jolm Crcedy, in si)ito of his
black face, daz/lcd poor Ethel, for ho was more of a scholar
and a g-entleman than anybody with whom sho had ever
before had tho chance of conversing on equal terms.
When Ethel turned tho course of talk to Africa, tho
young parson was equally eloquent and fascinating. Ho
didn't care about leaving England for many reau ns, but
ho would be glad to do something fo?" his poor brethren.
Ho was cntliusiastic about missions; that was a common
interest ; and ho was so anxious to raise and improve the
condition of his fellow-negroes that Ethel couldn't help
feeling what a noblo thing it was of him thus to sacrifice
himself, cultivated gentleman as ho was, in an African
jungle, for his heathen countrymen. Altogether, sho went
home from tho tennis-court that afternoon thoroughly
overcome by John Creedy's personality. She didn't for a
moment think of falling in love with him — a certain
indescribable race-instinct set up an impassable barrier
against that — but she admired him and was interested in
him in a way that sho had never yet felt with any other
man.
As for John Greedy, ho was naturally charmed with
Ethel. In tho first place, ho would have been charmed
with any English girl who took so much interest in
himself and his plans, for, liko all negroes, he was frankly
TlIK IIEVEIIICXI) JOUX CliEEDY. 5
cgotiHtical, and delighted to find a white hidy wlio seemed
to treat him as a sni)erior being. But in the second phico,
Ethel was really a ehariuing, simple English village lassie,
with sweet little manners and a delici(ms hlnsh, who
might have impressed a far less susceptible man than the
young negro parson. So, whatever Etliel fc^lt, John
(^reedy felt liimsolf truly in love. And after all, John
(!reedywas in all essentials an educated Englisli gentle-
man, with the same chivalrous feelings towards a pretty
and attractive girl that every English gentleman ought
to have.
On Sunday morning Aunt Emily and Ethel went to
the parish church, and the lieverend John Creedy
preached the expected sermon. It was almost his first —
sounded like a trial trip, Uncle .James muttered — but it
was undoubtedly what connoisseurs describe as an admi-
rable discourse. John Creedy was free from any tinge of
nervousness — negroes never know what that word means
— and ho spoke fervently, elocjucntly, auvl with much
|)ower of manner about the necessity for a (jlold Coast
Mission. Perhaps there was really nothing very original
or striking in wliat ho said, but his way of saying it was
impressive and vigorous. The negro, like many other
lower races, has the faculty of speech largely developed,
and John Creedy had been noted as one of the readiest
and most fluent talkers at the Oxford Union debates.
When ho enlarged upon the need for workers, the need for
help, the need for succour and sympathy in the great task
of evangelization. Aunt Emily and Ethel forgot his black
hands, stretched out open -palmed towards the people, and
felt only their hearts stirred within them by tho eloquence
and enthusiasm of that appealing gesture.
The end of it all was, that instead of a week John
Creedy stopped for two months at Walton Magna, and
during all that time he saw a great deal of Ethel. Before
the end of the first fortnight he walked out one afternoon
6 STiiAyai: sToiuKs.
along tlio rlvcr-luaiik with lior, aud talked earnestly of hif-'-
expected mission.
*' Miss Hcrry," ho said, as they sat to rest awhilo on tho
jiarapot of tlio littlo hridj^o hy tho weeping willow.s, "I
don't mind going to Africa, but I can't bear going all
alone. I am to have a station entirely hv myself up tho
Ancohra river, where I shall see no other Christian faeo
from year's end to year's end. I wish I could have had
iBumo one to accompany mo."
"You will 1)0 very lonely," Ethel answered. "I wish
indeed 3'ou could have some companionship."
" Do you really ? " John C'reedy went on. " It is not.
good for man to live alono ; ho wants a helpmate. Oli,
JMiss Ethel, may I venturo to hope that perhaps, if I can
try to deserve you, you will ho mine ? "
Ethel started in dismay. j\[r. ('reedy had been very
attentive, very kind, and she had liked to hear him talk
and had encouraged his coming, but sho was hardly
prepared for this. Tho nameless something in our blood
recoiled at it. Tho proposal stunned her, and sho said
nothing but " Oh, Mr. Crecdy, how can you say such a
thing?"
John Crecdy saw tho shadow on her face, tho uninten-
tional dilatation of her delicate nostrils, tho faint puckering
at the corner of her lips, and knew with a negro's quick
instinct of face-reading what it all meant. " Oh, Miss
Ethel," ho said, with a touch of genuine bitterness in his
tone, "don't you, too, despise us. I won't ask you for any
answer now ; I don't want an answer. But I want you
to think it over. Do think it over, and consider whether
you can ever lovo me. I won't press tho matter on you.
I won't insult you by importunity, but I will tell you
just this once, and once for all, what I feel. I lovo
you, and I shall always lovo you, whatever you answer me
now. I know it would cost you a wrench to take me, a
greater wrench than to take tho least and the un worthiest
THE liKVEIlKND .10 US (REHDY.
of your own people. l>nt if you can only <;'ct over tliul
fir.st Avrtnch, I can promise ciiruestly and fiiithfully to lovo
you as well as over woman yet was lovetl. Don't say
anythinj:; now," ho went on, as he saw she was }:;oin;^ to
open hor mouth aj^ain : "wait and think it over; pray it
over; and if you can't see your \.'ay Htrai<j;ht hoforo you
when I ask you this day fortnight "yes or no,' answer mo
" no," and I gi^■o you my word of lionour as a gentleman
I will never speak to you of the matter again. I>ut 1 shall
carry your j)icturo written on my heart to my grave."
And Ethel know that he was speaking from his very
soul.
When sho went homo, sho took Aunt Emily up into her
little bedroom, over the porch where the dog-roses grew,
and told her all about it. Aunt Emily cried and sobbed
as if hor heart would break, but sho saw only ono answer
from the first. " It is a gate opened t') you, my darling,"'
sho said : " I shall break my heart over it, Ethel, but it is
a gate opened." And though sho felt that all the light
W(juld be gono out of her life if Ethel went, sho worked
with hor might from that moment forth to induce Ethel
to marry John Greedy and go to Africa. Poor soul, sho
acted faithfully up to her lights.
As for Uncle James, ho looked at the matter very differ-
ently. " Her instinct is against it," ho said stoutly, *' and
our instincts wasn't put in our hearts for nothing. They're
meant to be a guide and a light to ns in these dark
questions. No white girl ought to marry a black man,
even if ho is a parson. It ain't natural : our instinct is
again it. A white man may marry a black woman if ho
likes : I don't say anything again him, though I don't say
I'd do it myself, not for any money. But a whito woman
to marry a black man, why, it makes our blood rise, you
know, 'specially if you've happened to have cruised worth
speaking of along the Coast."
But the vicar and the vicar's wife were charmed with
8 STRANGE STORIES.
iho prospect of snccess, and spoke seriously to Etliel about
it. It was a call, they thought, and Ethel oughtn't to
disregard it. They had argued themselves out of tliose
wholesome race instincts that Uncle James so rightly
valued, and they were eager to argue Ethel out of them
too. What could the poor girl do? Her aunt and the
vicar on the one hand, and John Greedy on the other, were
too much between them for her native feelings. At the
end of the fortnight John Greedy asked her his simple
question " yes or no," and half againsther will she answered
"yes." John Greedy took her hand delicately in his and
fervidly kissed the very tips of her fingers ; something
within him told him he must not kiss her lips. iShe started
at the kiss, but she said nothing. John Greedy noticed
the start, and said within himself, " I shall so love and
cherish her that I will make her love mo in spite of my
black skin." For witli all the faults of his negro nature,
John Greedy was at heart an earnest and affectionate man,
after his kind.
And Ethel really did, to some extent, love him already.
It was such a strange mixture of feeling. From one point
of view he was a gentleman by position, a clergyman, a
]nan of learning and of piety ; and from this point of view
Ethel was not only satisfied, but even proud of him. For
the rest, she took him as some good Gatholics take the
veil, from a sense of the call. And so, before the two
months were out, Ethel Berry had married John Greedy,
and both started together at once for Southampton, on
their way to Axim. Aunt Emily cried, and hoped they
might be blessed in their new work, but Unt^'i James
never lost his misgivings about the effect of Africa upon a
born African. " Instincts is a great thing," he said, with
a shake of his head, as he saw the West Goast mail steam
slowly down Southampton Water, " and when be gets
among his own people his instincts will surely get the
better of him, as safe as my name is James Berry."
THE REVEREND JOHN CREEDY.
n.
The little mission bungalow at ButaLuo, a wooden slied
neatly thatehod with fan palms, had been built and gar-
nished by the native catechist from Axim and his wife
before tho arrival of the missionaries, so that Ethel found
a habitable dwelling ready for her at the end of her h)ng
boat journey up the rapid stream of the Ancobra. There
the strangely matched pair settled down quietly enough to
their work of teaching and catechizing, for tho mission
had already been started by the native evangelist, and
many of the people were fairly ready to hear and accept
the new religion. For the first ten or twelve months
I^thel's letters homo were full of praise and love for dear
-lohn. Now that she had come to know Idm well, she
wondered she had ever feared to marry him. No husband
was over so tender, so gentle, so considerate. Ho nursed
her in all lier little ailments like a woman; she leaned on
Iiim as a wife leans on the strong arm of her husband.
And then ho was so clever, so wise, so learned. Her only
grief was that she feared she was not and would never bo
good enough for him. Yet it was well for her that they
were living so entirely away from all white society at
Butal)ue, for there slie had nobody with whom to contrast
John but the half-clad savages around them. Judged by
tho light of that startling contrast, good John Creedy,
witli his cultivated ways and gentle manners, seemed like
an Englishman indeed.
John Creedy, for his part, thought no less well of his
Ethel. He was tenderly resi)ectful to her ; more distant,
perhaps, than is usual between husband and wife, oven in
the first months of marriage, but that was due to his innate
delicacy of feeling, which made him half unconsciously
recognize the depth of the gulf that still divided them.
Ho cherished her like some saintly thing, too sacred for
10 STllAXGE STORIES.
the oonimon world. Yet Ethel was liis helper in all his
work, so clieorful under the necessary privations of their
life, so ready to put up Avith bananas and cassava IjalLs, so
apt at kncadino- plantain paste, so willing to learn IVoin
the negro women all the mysteries of mixing agadey,
cardcey, and koko pudding. No tropical heat seemed to
put her out of temper ; even the horrible country fever
itself she bore \vith such gentlo resignation, John Creody
felt in his heart of hearts tliat ho would willingly give up
his life for her, and that it would bo but a small sacrifice
for so sweet a creature.
One day, shortly after their arrival at P»utabue, John
Creedy began talking in English to the catechist about
tlio best way of setting to work to learn the native lan-
guage. He had left the countr}^ when he was nine years
old, ho said, and had forgotten all about it. The catechist
answered him qnickl}'- in a Fanteo phrase. John Creedy
looked amazed and started.
" What d he say ? ' ' asked Ethel.
" He says tliat 1 shall soon learn if only I listen ; but the
curious thing is, Ethie, that I understand him."
" It has c()m(> back to you, John, that's all. You aro
so quick at languages, and now you hear it again you
remember it."
" I'erhaps so," said the missionary, slowly, " but I have
never recalled a word of it for all these years. I wonder
if it will all come back to me."
" Of course it will, dear," said Ethel ; " you'know, things
come to you so easily in that way. You almost learned
Portuguese while we were coming out from hearing those
IJenguela people."
And so it did come back, sure enough. Before John
Creedy had been six weeks at Butabue, he could talk Fanteo
as fluen Jy as any of the natives around him. After all,
he was nine years old when he was taken to England,
and it was no great wonder that he should recollect the
■VSS
THE UEVEREND JOHN CUE ED Y.
n
•'<•
lavignaj^o ho had heard in his childhood till that age. 6 till,
ho liimsclf noticed rather uneasily that every phrase and
word, down to tho very lieathcn charms and prayers of his
intiuicy, camo back to him now with startling vividness
and without an ellbrt.
Four months aftor their arrival John saw ono day a tall
and ugly negro woman, in tho scanty native dress, standing
near tho rudo market-place whero tho Butabue butchers
killed and sold their reeking goat-moat. Ethel saw him
start again, and Avith a terrible foreboding in her heart,
she could not hel}) asking him why ho started. " I can't,
tell you,; Ethic," ho said, piteously ; " for heaven's sako
don't press mo. I want to spare you." But Ethel would
hear. " Is it your mother, John ? " she asked hoarsely.
" No, thank heaven, not my mother, Ethie," he answered
her, with something like pallor on his dark cheek, " not
my mother ; but I remember tho woman."
"A relative?"
" Oh, Etliie, don't press me. Yes, my mother's sister,
I remenrber lier years ago. Let us say no more about it."
And Ethel, looking at that gaunt and squalid savago
woman, shuddered in her heart and said no more.
Slowly, as timo went on, however, Ethel began to notico
a strange shade of change coming over John's ideas and
remarks about tho negroes. At first ho had been shocked
and distressed at their heathendom and savagery, but tho
more he saw of it tho more ho seemed to find it natural
enough in their position, and even in a sort of way
to sympathize with it or apologize for it. Ono morn-
ing, a month or two later, ho spoke to her voluntarily
of his father, llo had never done so in England. " I can
remember," he said, " ho was a chief, a great chief. IIo
had many Avives, and my mother was ono. Ho was beaten.
in War by Kola, and I was taken prisoner. But he had a
lino palace at Kwantah, and many fan-bearers." Ethel
observed with a faint terror that he seemed to speak with
.12 STRANGE STORIES.
pride and complacency of his father's chieftaincy. Sho
.shuddered again and wondered. ^Vas the West African
instinct getting the upper liand in him over the Christian
jjrentlenian ?
When the dries were over, and the koko-harvest gathered,
the negroes hehl a grand feast. John had preached in the
open air to some of the market people in the morning, and
in the evening he was sitting in the hut with Ethel, waiting
till the catcchist and his wife should come in to prayers,
for they carried out their accustomed ceremony decorously,
even there, every night and morning. Suddenly tbey
heard the din of savage music out of doors, and the noise of
a great crowd laughing and shouting down the street. John
listened, and listened with deepening attention. " Don't
you hear it, Ethie ? " he cried. " It's the tom-toms. I
know what it means. It's the harvest hattle-feast! "
" IIow hideous ! " said Ethel, shrinking hack.
" Don't be afraid, dearest," John said, smiling at her.
" It means no harm. It's only the people amusing them-
selves." And ho began to keep time to the tom-toms
rapidly with the palms of liis hands.
The din drew nearer, and John grew more evidently
excited at every step. "Don't j^ou hear, Ethie ? " he said
again. " It's the Salonga. What inspiriting music ! It's
like a drum and fife band ; it's like the bagpipes ; it's like a
military march. By Jove, it compels one to dance ! " And
ho got up as he spoke, in English clerical dress (for he
wore clerical dress even at Butabue), and began capering
in a sort of hornpipe round the tiny room.
" Oh, John, don't," cried Ethel. " Suppose the catechist
were to come in ! "
But John's blood was up. *' Look here," he said ex-
citedly, " it goes like this. Here you hold your matchlock
out; here you fire; here you charge with cutlasses; here
you hack them down before you ; here you hold up your
enemy's head in your hands, and here you kick it off
THE REVEIlEyD JOHN CIIEEDY. 13"
anionrr tlio women. Oh, it's grand ! " Tliere was a torrlblo
light in liis black eyes as he spoke, and a terrible trem-
bling in his clenched l)lack hands.
"John," cried Ethel, in an agony of horror, "it isn't
Christian, it isn't linmau, it isn't worthy of you. I can
never, never love yon if you do such a thing again."
In a moment John's face changed and his hand fell as
if she had stabbed him. "Ethie," ho said in a low voice,
creeping back to her like a whipped spaniel, " Ethie, my
darling, my own soul, my beloved ; what haoe I done ! Oh,
heavens, I will never listen to the accursed thing again.
Oh, Ethie, for heaven's sake, for mercy's sake, forgive
me ! "
Ethel laid her hand, trembling, on his head. John sunk
upon his knees before her, and bowed himself down with
his head between his arms, like one staggered and peni-
tent. Ethel lifted him gently, and at that moment the
catechist and his wafo came in. John stood up iirndy,
took down his Bible and Piayer-book, and read through
evening })rayer at once in his usual impressiA^e tone. In
one moment ho had changed back again from the Fanteu
savage to the decorous Oxford clergyman.
It was only a week later that Ethel, hunting about in
the little storeroom, happened to notice a stout wooden
box carefully covered up. She opened the lid with some
difiiculty, for it was fastened down with a native lock, and
to her horror she found inside it a surreptitious keg of raw
negro rum. She took the keg out, put it conspicuously in
the midst of the storeroom, and said nothing. That night
she heard John in the jungle behind the yard, and looking
out, she saw dimly that he was hacking the keg to pieces
vehemently with an axe. After that ho was even kinder
and tenderer to her than usual for the next week, but Ethel
vaguely remembered that onco or twice before, ho liad
seemed a little odd in his manner, and that it was on those
days that she had seen gleams of the savage nature peep-
14 STIiANGE STORIES.
inj^ through. Perhaps, she thouf^ht, with a shiver, his
civilization was only a veneer, and a glass of raw rum or
ao was enough to wash it ofT.
Twelve months after their first ariival, Ethel came homo
very feverish one evening from her girls' school, and found
John gone from the hut. Searching about in the room for
tlio <|uinine bottle, she came (jnco more upon a nim-keg,
and this time it was empty. A nameless terror drove her
into the little bedroom. There, on the bed, torn into a
hundred shreds, lay John Creedy's black coat and Euro-
pean clothing. The room whirled around her, and though
she had never heard of such a thing before, the terrible
truth flashed across her bewildered mind like a hideous
dream. She went out, alone, at night, as she had never
done before since she came to Africa, into tlie broad lane
between the huts which constituted the chief street of
Eutabue. So far away from home, so utterly solitary
anion 2: all those black faces, so sick at heart with that
burning and devouring horror ! She reeled and staggered
down the street, not knowing how or where she went, till
at the end, beneath the two tall date-palms, she saw lights
flashing and heard the noise of shouts and laughter. A
group of natives, men and women together, were dancing
and howling round a dancing and howling negro. The
central figure was dressed in the native f;)sliion, with arras
and legs bare, and ho was shouting a loud song at the top
of his voice in theFantee language, while ho shook atom-
torn. There was a huskiness as of drink in his throat, and
his steps were unsteady and doubtful. Great heavens !
could that reeling, shrieking black savage be John Greedy ?
Yes, instinct had gained the day over civilization ; the
savage in John Creedy had broken out ; he had torn up
his English clothes and, in West African parlance, " had
gone Fantee." Ethel gazed at him, white with horror —
stood still and gazed, and never cried nor fainted, nor said
a word. The crowd of negroes divided to right and left,
TUE UEVERENI) JOHN CREED Y. 13
ami Jolm Crcody saw his wife stamlinj^* tlicvo liko a marWo
flguro. AVith oiio awful cry ho camo to himself again, and
rnshcd to lier side. Slie did not repel him, as ho expeetcd;
flio did not speak; she was mute and cold liko a corpse,
not liko a living woman, llo took her up in his strong
arms, laid her head on his shoulder, and carried her homo
tlirough tlio long lino of thatclied huts, erect and steady
as wlien ho iirst walked up the aisle of AValton IVIagna
church. Then ho laid her down gently on tho bed, and
called tho wife of tho catechist. " She has the fever,"
he said in Fantco. '• Sit hy her."
The catechist's wifo looked at hor, and said, "Yes; tho
yellow fever."
And so she had. Even before sho saw Jolm the fever
luid been upon her, and that awful revelation had brought
it out suddenly in full force. She lay unconscious upon
the bed, hor eyes open, staring ghastlily, but not a trace of
colour in her cheek nor a sign of life upon hor face.
Jolin Creedy wrote a few words on a piece of paper,
which he folded in his hand, gave a few directions in
Fantee to the woman at tho bedside, and thea hurried out
like one on fire into the darkness outside.
III.
It was thirty miles through the jungle, by a native
trackway, to tho nearest mission .station atEffucnta. There
were two Methodist missionaries stationed there, John
Creedy know, for he had gone round by boat more than
once to sec them. When he first came to Africa ho could
no more have found his way across the neck of the river
fork by that tangled jungle track than ho could have flown
bodily over the top of tho cocoa palms; but now, half
16 STRANGE STORIES.
naked, harofootccl, and inspired with an overpowering
emotion, ho threaded his i>ath thron<^li the darkness among
the creepers and lianas of the forest in true African fashion.
Stooping here, creeping on all fours there, running in tho
open at full spoed anon, ho never once stopped to draw
breath till ho had covered tho wholo thirty miles, and
knocked in tho early dawn at tho door of tho mission hut
at EiTuenta.
One of tho missionaries opened tho barred door cautiously.
" What do you want ? " ho asked in Fantee of tho bare-
legged savage, who stood crouching by tho threshold.
" I bring a message from Missionary John Creedy," the
bare-legged savago answered, also in Fantee. " He wants
European clothes."
" Has ho sent a letter ? " asked tho missionary.
John Creedy took tho folded piece of paper from his
palm. The missionary read it. It told him in a few words
how the Butabue people had pillaged John's hut at night
and stolen his clothing, and how ho could not go outside
his door till ho got some European dress again.
" This is strange," said the missionary. " Brother Fel-
ton died three days ago of the fever. You can take his
clothes to Brother Creedy, if you will."
Tho bare-limbed savage nodded acquiescence. The
missionary looked hard at him, and fancied he had seen
his face before, but ho never even for a moment suspected
that he was speaking to John Creedy himself.
A bundlo was soon made of dead Brother Felton's clothes,
and tho bare-limbed man took it in his arms and prepared
to run back again the whole way to Butabue.
" You have had nothing to cat," said tho lonely mis-
Bionary. " Won't you take something to help you on
your way ? "
" Give me some plantain paste," answered John Creedy.
" I can cat it as I go." And when they gave it him he
forgot himself for the moment, and answered, "Thank
THE nKVEUESl) JOHN CUEEDY. 17
you" in English. Tlio missionary stared, Tmt tliou;^lit it.
was only a single itliraso that ho liad ]>icke(l np at
Biitahiio, and that ho was anxiuus, no^ro-fushion, to air his
knowh (Igo.
liack throngh tho jnnglc, with tho hundlo in his arms,
John ( 'reedy wormed his way onco more, like a snake or a
tiger, never pausing or halting on the road till ho found
liiinsolf again in tho open space outside tho village of
Hutabue. There ho stayed awhile, and behind a clump of
wild ginger, ho opened tho bundle and arrayed himself
onco more from head to foot in English clerical dress.
That done, too proud to slink, ho walked bold and. erect
down tho main alloy, and quietly entered his own hut.
It was high noon, tho baking high noon of Africa, as lio
did so.
Ethel lay unconscious still upon the bed. Tho negi-o
woman crouched, half asleep after her night's watching,
at tiio foot. John Creedy looked at his watch, which
stood hard by on tho littlo wooden table. "Sixty miles iu
fourteen hours," ho said aloud. " Better time bv a great
<leal than when we walked from Oxford to tho White
Horse, eighteen months since," And then ho sut down
silently by Ethel's bedside.
" lias she moved her eyes ? " ho asked the negress.
"Never, John Creedy," answered the woman. Till last
night she had always called him " Master."
He Avatchcd the lifeless faco for an hour or two. There
was no change in it till about four o'clock; then Ethel's
eyes began to alter their expression. He saw tho dilated
pupils contract a little, and knew tliat consciousness was
gradually returning.
In a moment moro she looked round at him and gave a
littlo cry. " John," sho exclaimed, with a sort of awaken-
ing hopefulness in her voice, " where on earth did you gel
those clothes ? "
" These clothes ? " he answered softly. " Why, you
18 STRANGE STORIES.
must 1)0 wandcrlnjj; in your inind, Ethio dearest, to ask
Midi a question now. At Standen's, in the High at Oxford,
my darlinj;." And liu passed his black hand gently across
her loose hair.
Ethel gave a great cry of joy. *' Then it was a dream,
a horrid dream, John, or a turriblo mistake ? Oh, John,
.siiy it was a dream ! "
John drew his liand across hi^ forehead slowly. " I'^thio
darling," lie said, "you arc wandering, I'm alraid. You
have a Lad fever. I don't know what you mean."
" Then you didn't tear them up, and wear a Fantce
dress, and danco with a tom-tom down the street ? Oh,
John ! "
" Oh, Ethel ! No. AVhat a terrible delirium you must
have had I "
" It is all well," she said. " I don't mind if I die now."
And she sank back oxliausted into a sort of feverish sleep.
" John Greedy," said the black catechist's wife solemnly,
in Fantee, " you will have to answer for that lie to a
dying woman with your soul ! "
•' My soul ! " cried John Greedy passionately, smiting
both breasts Avith his clenched fists. " Mij soul ! Do you
think, you negro wench, I wouldn't give tny poor, miser-
al)io, black soul to eternal torments a thousand times over,
if only I could give her little white heart one moment's
forgetfulness before she dies ? "
For five days longer Ethel lingered in the burning
fever, sometimes conscious for a minute or two, but for
the most part delirious or drowsy all the time. She never
said another word to John about her terrible dream, and
John never said another word to her. But ho sat by her
side and tended her like a woman, doing everything that
was possible for her in the bare little hut, and devouring
liis full heart with a horrible gnawing remorse too deep
for pen or tongue to probe and fathom. For civilization
with John Greedy was really at bottom far more than a
TlUC UEVFMl.Sl) JOHN CUKEDY.
19
1
mere veneer; tlutu^li tlic siivaf^o instinctH might break out
with him now and again, Midi outbursts no raoro affected
liis ailult and acquired nature than a singUs bunm supper
or wine party at coHogo affects tlio nature of nianj* a
gfnthj-nniulod liUglish lad. The truest John freed of all
■was the gentle, ti'iidor, English clergyman.
As he sat by her bedside slcejdcss and agnni/.ed, night
and day for five days together, one prayer only rose to his
lips tin\e after time : " Heaven grant she may die ! " IIo
liad depth enough in Ihe civilized side of his soul to feel
that that was the only way to save her from a life-long
shame. " If she gets well," ho said to himself, trembling,
*' 1 will leave this accursed Africa at once. I will work
my way back to England as a common sailor, and send her
liomo by the mail with my remaining money. I will
never inflict my presence upon her again, f(»r slio cannot
be persuaded, if on(;o she recovers, that she did not see me,
as she did see mo, a bare-1 imbed heathen Fantco brandishing
a devilish tom-tom. Vint I shall get work in England —
not a parson's; that I can never be again — but clerk's
work, labourer's work, navvy's work, anything ! Locdc at
my arms : I rowed five in tho Magdalen eight : I could
hold a spade as well as any man. I will toil, and slave,
and save, and keep her still like a lady, if I starve for it
myself, but she shall never see my face again, if once she
recovers. Even then it will bo a living death for her,
poor angel ! There is only one hope — Heaven grant sho
may die ! "
On the fifth day sho opened her eyes once. John saw
that his prayer was about to bo fulfilled. "John," sho
said feebly — " John, tell me, on your honour, it was only
my delirium."
And John, raising his hand to heaven, splemUdc mciida.v,
answered in a firm voice, " I swear it."
Ethel smiled and shut her eyes. It was f<jr the last
time.
20 srn.wai: stoiuks.
Next in<»rnltij]f, .John Crecily — toarlo.sH, but parclicil and
<lry in tlio niouili, liko ouo st mined iincl luimaiiiicd — took
u pick.'ixo and licwod nut a rndo <i;ravo in tho loose soil
near tho river. Then he fashioned a ron<;li coflin from
twisted eanes with liis own hands, and in it ho roverenlly
placed the saered hod^'. llo alhiwcd no ono to liclp him
or come near liim — not even his ioHow-riirislians, tho
cateehist and his wife : Kthel Avas too holy a thing tor their
African hands to toneh. Next he \mt on his white surplice,
and for tho first and only time in his life ho read, without
a, quaver in his voice, tho Church of England Lurial service
over tho open grave. And when ho had iinished ho went
hack to his desolate hut, and cried with a loud voico of
utter despair, " The ono thing that Ixmnd nio to civilization
is gone. Henceforth I sliall never speak another word of
L'nglish. I go to my own people." So saying, he S( dcranly
tore up his European clothes onco more, bound a cotton
loin-cloth round his waist, covered his head with dirt, and
sat fasting and wailing i)itcously, like a broken-hearted
child, in his cabin.
Nowadays, the old half-casto rortugueso rum-dealer at
Ihitabue can point out to any English pioneer who comes
up the river which one, among a crowd of dilapidated
negroes who lie basking in tho soft dust outside his hut,
was onco tho Kevercnd John Greedy, B.A,, of Magdalen
College, Oxford.
/>/?. anFATBKTS ENGAGEMENT,
KvKRYFsoDY kiiows by name at least ihe celoLratinl Dr.
(ircatrex, tlic discovcrt'i' of tliat al)slnise molecular theory
of tlio jntcrrulatioiis i)f forces aii<l energies, lie is a cum-
parativoly young man still, as times go, for a iierson of
.such scicntifie distinction, for he is now barely forty ; but
to look at his tall, spare, earnest figure, and his clear-cut,
delicate, intellectual fixee, you wi^uld scarcely iniagino
that he had once been the hero of a singularly strange and
romantic story. Yet tliero have been few lives more
romantic than Artliur Greatrex's, and few histories
stranger in tlicir way than this of his engagement. After
all, Avhy should not a scientific light have a romance of
Jiis own as well as other people ?
Fifteen years ago Arthur Clreatrex, then a young Cam-
bridge fellow, had just come up to begin liis medical
stmlies at a London hospital. He was tall in those days,
of course, but not nearly so slender or so pale as now ; for
ho had rowed seven in his college boat, and was a fine,
athletic young man of the true English university pattern.
Handsome, too, thini and always, but with a more human-
looking and ordinary handsomeness Avlien ho was young
than in these latter times of his scientific eminence.
Indeed, anv one who met Arthur Greatrex at that time
would merely have noticed him as a fine, intelligent young
English gentleman, with a marked taste for mauly sports,
22 STIiAXGE STORIES.
anrl a dccidod opinion of liis own al)ont most passing-
matters of pnl)lic interest.
Already, even in those days, the young medical student
was very dcKiply engaged in recondite speculations ou the
(question of energy. His active mind, always dwelling
upon wide ])()ints of cosmical signiiicance, had hit upon
tlu! germ of that great revolutionary idea which was
afterwards to change the whole course of modern physics.
Ihit, as often ha^ipens with young men of t"^enty-five,
there was another subject Avhich divided his attention
with the grand theory of his life : and that subject was
the pretty daughter of hif-: friend and instructor, Dr.
Abury, tlio eminent authority on the treatment of the
insane. In all London you couldn't have found a sweeter
or prettier girl than Hetty Abury. Young (Jrcatrex
thought her clever, too ; and, tliough that is perhaps
saying rather too much, she was certainly a good deal
above the average of ordinary London girls in intellect
and accomplishments.
" They say, Arthur," she said to him on the day after
their formal engagement, " that tlio course of true love
never did run smooth; and j'ct it seems somehow as if
ours M'as wonderfully smoothed over for us by everybody
and everything. I am the happiest and proudest girl in
all the world to have won the love of such a man as you
for my future husband."
Arthur Greatrex stroked the back of her white littlo
hand with his, and answered gently, " I hope nothing will
over arise to make the course of our lovo run any the
rougher ; for certainly we do seem to have every hap-
piness laid out most temptingly before us. It almost feels
to mo as if my paradise had been too easily won, and I
ought to have something harder to do before I enter it."
" Don't say that, Arthur," Hetty put in hastily. " It
sounds too much like an evil omen."
" You superstitious littlo woman ! " the young doctor
im. anEATiii'Lvs engagement. 2;i
rcplicfl with a smllo. " Tallcing to a scientific man aljoiit
.signs and portents!" And ho kissed hcv ^vce hand ten-
derly, and went homo to his baelielor hjdginj;' witli tliat
strange exhihiration in heart and step which only tho
ecstasy of first lovo can ever bring one.
" No," ho thonght to himself, as he sat down in his own
casy-cliair, and lighted his cigar; "I don't believe any
cloud can ever arise between mo and Hetty. We have
everything in our favour — means to live upon, lovo for
one another, a mutual respect, kind relations, and hearts
that were meant by nature (^ach for the other, Hetty is
certainly tho very sweetest little girl that ever lived; and
she's as good as she's sweet, and as loving as she's
beautiful. What a dreadful thing it is for a man in love
to have to read up medicine for his next examination ! '
And he took a medical book down from tho shelf with a
sigh, and ])retended to be deeply interested in tho diag-
nosis of scarlet fever till his cigar was finished. But, if
the truth must lio told, the words really swam before him,
antl all the letters on tho pago aj^parently conspired
together to make up but a single name a th(jusand times
over — Hetty, Hetty, Hetty, Hetty. At last ho laid the
volume down as hopeless, and turned dreamily into his
bedroom, only to lie awake half the night and think
perpetually on that one theme of Hetty.
Next day was Dr, Abury's weekly lecture on diseases of
the brain and nervous system; and Arthur Greatrex,
convinced that ho really must make an eilort, went to
hear it. Tho sul)jeet was one that always interested him ;
and partly by dint of mental attention, partly out of sheer
desire to master tho matter, ho managed to hear it throuixh,
and even take in tho greater part of its import. As ho
left tho room to go down tho hospital stairs, ho had his
mind fairly disti acted between tho premonitory symptoms
of insanity and Hetty Abury. " Was there ever such an
unfortunate profession as medicine for a man in lovo ? " ho
24 STJUNGE STORIES.
asked himself, half angrily. "Why didn't I go and bo a
parson or a banister, or anything else that would have
kept mo from mixing up such incongruous associations?
And yet, when ono comes to think of it, too, there's no
particular natuial conned ion after all between * Chitty
on Contract' and dearest Hetty."
]\Iusing thus, he turned to walk down the great central
staircase of the hospital. As he did so, his attention was
attracted for a moment by a singular person who was
descending the opposite stair towards tlio same landing.
This person was tall and not ill-looking; but, as ho camo
down the steps, ho kept pursing up his mouth and cheeks
into the most extraordinary and hideous grimaces ; in
fact, he was obviously making insulting faces at Arthur
Grcatrex. Arthur was so much preoccupied at tho
moment, however, that he hardly had time to notice
tho eccentric stranger ; and, as he took him for one of the
harmless lunatic patients in tho mental-diseases ward, he
would have passed on. without further observin__, tho man
but for an odd circumstance which occurred as they both
reached the great central landing together. Arthur hap-
pened to drop the book he was carrying from under his
arm, and instinctively stooped to pick it up. At the same
moment the grimacing stranger dropped his own book
also, not in imitation, ))ut by obvious coincidence, and
stooped to pick it up with the self-same gesture. Struck
b}' tho oddity of tho situation, Arthur turned to look at
the curious patient. To his utter horror and surprise, l)c
discovered that the man he had been observing was his
own reflection.
In ono second the real state of the case flashed like
lightning across his bewildered brain. There was no
opposite stain.'ase, as ho know very -well, for he had been
down those steps a hundred times before : nothing but a
big mirror, which reflected and doubled the one-sided
iliglit from top to buttum. It. was only his momentary
Dli. aUEATIlEX'S EXGAGEMENT.
'lb
prcocciiration ^vhicl^ bad made him for a minute fall into
the obvious delusion. The man whom he saw descending
towards him was rcully liimself, Arthur Groatrex.
Even so, he did not at once grasp the full strangeness
<.r the scene ho had just witnessed. It was only as ho
turned to descend again that he caught another glimpse
of himself in the big mirror, and Naw that he was still
mailing the most horrible and ghastliest grimaces —
"•riinaces such as ho had never seen ociualled save by tlio
monkeys at the Zoo, and (horridest th(mght of all !) by
the worst patients in the mental-disease ward. He pulled
himself up in speechless liorror, and l(;oked once more
into the big mirr(jr. Yes, there was positively no mis-
taking the fact : it was he, Aithur Grcatrex, fellow of
Catherine's, who was making these hideous and mean-
inirless distortions of his own countenance.
AVith a terrible effort of will ho pulled his face quite
straight again, and assumed his usual grave and quiet
dinneanour. For a full minute he stood looking at liimself
in the glass ; and then, fearful that some one else would
<;omo and surprise him, he hurried down the remaining
stejis, and rushed out into the streets <jf London. Which.
Avay he turned he did not know or car(^ ; all he know was
that ho was repressing by sheer force of muscular strain a
deadly impulse to pucker up liis mouth and draw down
the corners of his li^js into one-sided grimaces. As he
passed down the streets, he watched his own image faintlj*
nflected in the panes of the windows, and saw that he
was maintaining outward decorum, but only with a con-
scious and evident struggle. At one doorslop a little
<:hild was playing with a kitten; Arthur Grcatrex, who
was a naturally kindly man, looked down at her and smiled,
in spite of his preoccupation : instead of smiling back, the
child uttered a scream of terror, and rushed back into the
house to hide her face in her mother's apron. lie felt
instinctively that, in place of smiling, he had looked at
20 STRANGE STOTIIES.
the cliild with one of liis awful faces. It was horriLle^
imerulnral)le, and lie walked on through the h^rects and
across the bridges, pulling himself together all the time,
till at last, half-unconscionsly, ho found himself near
Pimlico, where the Aburjs were then living.
Looking around him, lie saw that ho had come nearly
to the corner where Hetty's little drawing-room faced the
road. The accnstumed place seemed to draw him oft' for
a moment from thinking of himself, and ho remembered
that he had promised Hetty to come in for luncheon. But
dare he go in such a state of mind and body as ho then
found himself in ? Well, Hetty would be expecting him ;
Hetty would be disappointed if ho didn't come ; ho cer-
tainly mustn't break his engagement with dear littlo
Hetty. After all, he began to say to himself, what was
it but a mere twitching of his I'mco, probably a slight
nervous aifection ? Young doctors are always nervous
about themselves, they say ; they find all their own
symptoms accurately described in all the text-books. His
face wasn't twitching now, of that he was certain ; tho
nearer ho got to Hetty's, tho calmer ho grew, and tho
more he was conscious he could relax his attention without
finding his muscles were plaj'ing tricks u])on him. Ho
would turn in and have luncheon, and soon forget all
about it.
Hetty saw him coming, and ran lightly to open tho
door for him, and as ho took his seat beside her at tho
table, lie forgot straightway his whole trouble, and found
himself at once in Paradise once more. All through lunch
they talked about other things — happy plans for tho
future, and tho small prettinesses that lovers find so
perennially delightful ; and long before Arthur went
away the twitching in his face had altogether ceased to
trouble him. Once or twice, indeed, in tho course of tho
afternoon he happened to glance casually at tho looking-
glass above tho drawing-room fireplace (those were tho
LIl. GliEAiniLVS £:ngagemijnt. 27
pre- Morris Ian days when overmantels as yet -were not),
and ho saw to his o-yoat comfort that his face was resting;
in its nsual handsome repose and peacefuhiess. A Lriglit,
earnest, strong face it was, witli all the promise of great-
ness already in it ; and so Hetty thonght as she loohcd
np at it i'rora the low footstool where she sat by his side,
and half whispered into his ear tlio little timid ccmfidences
of early hetrothal.
Five o'clock tea came all too soon, and then Arthur felt
he must rcallv l-o goin"- and must get home to do a little
readinfr. On his way, he fancied once ho saw a street hoy
start in evident snr^irise as he approached him, hnt it
might ho fancy; and when the street 1>oy stuck his tongue
into the corner of his check and uttered derisive shouts
from a safe distance, Arthur concluded ho was only doing
after the manner of his kind out of pure gratuitous inso-
lence. Ho went homo to his lodgings and sat down to aTi
hour's work; Ijut after he had read up several pages more
of " Stuekcy on fiout," he laid down tho hook in disgust,
and took out IlLdmholt/ and Joule instead, indulfjins:
himself with a little desultory reading in his favourite
study of the higher physics.
As ho read and read the theory of correlation, tho great
idea as to tho real nature of energy, which had escaped
all these learned physicists, and which was then slowly
forming itself in his own mind, grcAv gradually clearer
and clearer still before his mental vision. Ilelmholtz was
wrong here, because ho had not thoroughly appreciated
the disjunctive nature of electric energy ; Joule was wrou"-
there, because he had failed to understand the real anti-
thesis between potential and kinetic. Ho laid down the
books, paced up and down tho room thoughtfully, and
beheld the whole concrete theory of interrelation embody-
ing itself visibly before his very eyes. At last ho grow
fired with the stupendous grandeur of his own conception,
seized a quiro of foolscap, and sat down eagerly at tho
28 STRANGE STORTES.
table to give written form to the splendid phantom that
was floating hcfurohiin in so distinct a fashion. lie would
make a great name, for Hetty's sako ; and, when ho had
made it, his dearest reward would bu to know that Hetty
was proud of him.
Hour after hour he sat and wrote, as if inspired, at his
little table. The huidhidy knocked at the door to tell him
ilinner was ready, but ho would have none of it, ho said;
let her bring him up a good cup of strong tea and a few
plain biscuits. 80 he wrote and wrote in feverish haste,
<lrinking cup aftci* cup of tea, and turning off page after
p)age of foolscap, till long past midnight. "^^IMio whole
theory had come np so distinctly before his mind's eye,
under the exceptional exaltation of first love, and the
powerful stimulus of the day's excitement, that ho wrote
it off as though he had it by heart ; omitting only the
mathematical calculations, which lie left blank, not because
ho had not got them clearly in his head, but because ho
Avould not stop his flying pen to copy them all out then
and there at full length, for fear of losing the main thread
of his argument. Wlien ho had finished, about forty sheets
of foolscap lay huddled, together on the table before him,
written in a hasty hand, and scarcely legible ; but they
contained the first rough draft and central principle of
that immortal work, the " Transcendental Dynamics."
Arthur Greatrcx rose from the table, where his grand
discovery was first formulated, well satisfied with himself
and his theory, and fully determined to submit it shortly
to the critical judgment of the lioyal Society. As he took
up his bedroom candle, however, ho went over to the
mantelpiece to kiss Hetty's photograph, as he always did
(for even men of scienco are human) every evening before
retiring. He lifted the portrait reverently to his lips, and
was just about to kiss it, when suddenly in the mirror
before him he saw the same horrible mocking face which
had greeted him so unexpectedly that morning on the
nn. GliEATIiEX'S ENGAGKMEST. 2»-
liospital staircnsc. It was a face of" inhuman devilry ; tlio
face of a iiiuiliioval demon, a hideous, i^rinnin^, distorted
ghoTil, a very earicaturo and insult upon tho features of
• humanity. In his dismay ho dropped tho frame and tho
photograph, shivering tho glass that covered it into a
thousand atoms. Summoning up all his resolution, ho
looked again. Yes, there was no mistaking it : a face
was gihing and jeering at him from the mirror with dia-
holical ingenuity of distorted hideousncss; a disgusting
face which even tho direct evidence of his senses would
scarcely permit hiui to believe was really tho reflection of
his own features. It was overpowering, it was awful, it
was wholly incredible ; and, utterly unmanned by tho
sight, he sank l)ack into his easy-chair and buried his face
bitterly between the shelter of his trembling hands.
At that moment Arthur Greatrex felt sure ho knew the
real meaning of the horror that surrounded him. l[o was
going mad.
For ten minutes or more he sat there motionless, hot
tears boiling up from his eyes and falling silently between
his fingers. Then at last he rose nervously from his seat,
and reached down a volume from tho shelf behind him.
It was I'rang's " Treatise on the Thysiology of the Brain."
He turned it over hurriedly for a few pages, till he carao
to the passage he was looking for.
" Ah, I thought so," hie said to himself, half aloud :
" ' Premonitory symptoms : facial distortions ; infirmity of
the will; inability to distinguish muscular movements.'
Let's see what Trang has to say about it. ' A not un-
common concomitant of these early stages' — Great heavens,
how calmly the man talks about losing your reason ! —
' is an unconscious or semi-ccmscious tendency to produce
a series of extraordinary facial distortions. At times, tho
sufferer is not aware of the movements thus initiated ; at
other times they are quite voluntary, and are accompanied
by bodily gestures of contempt or derision for passing
so STRANGE STOUII':S.
.stran^i^tsr.s.' Why, that's what must have liappcncil with
that boy this morning! 'Symptoms of this character
usually result from excessive activity of the brain, and aro
most frc(i[iient among mathematicians or scholars who have
overworked their intellectual faculties. Thoy may be
regarded as the immediate precursors of acute dementia.'
Acute dementia ! Oh, Hetty ! Oh, heavens ! What have
I done to deserve such a blow us this? "
lie laid his face between his hands once more, an;'
sobbed like a broken-hearted child for a few minutes.
Then he turned accidentally towards his tumbled manu-
script. " No, no," he said to himself, reassuringly ; "I can't
bo going mad. My brain was never clearer in my life. I
couldn't have done a piece of good work like that, bristling
with equations and iigurcs and formula;, if my head was
really giving way. I seemed to grasp the subject as I
never grasped it in ray life before. I never worked so well
at Cambridge ; this is a discovery, a genuine discovery.
It's impossible that a man who was going mad could ever
see anything so visibly and distinctly as I sec that uni-
versal prin(,iple. Let's look again at what Prang has to
say upon that subject."
He turned over the volume a few pages further, and
glanced lightly at the contents at the head of each chapter,
till at last a few words in the title struck his eye, and lio
linrried on to the paragraph thcj- indicated, with feverish,
eagerness. As he did so, these were the words which met
his bewildered gaze.
" In certain cases, especially among men of unusual in-
telligence and high attainments, the exaltation of incipient
madness takes rather the guise of a scientific or philosophic
enthusiasm. Instead of imagining himself the possessor
of untold wealth, or the absolute despot of a servile people,
the patient deludes himself with the belief that he has
made a great discovery or lighted upon a splendid generali-
eation of the deepest and most universal importance. IIo
DJt. GREATIiEX'S ENGAGEMENT.
81
sees now trutlis crowdinc^ upon In'm ■with tlio most startling
and vivid olijcctivity. IIo perceives intimato relations of
things which ho never hoforo suspected. Ho destroys at
one hlow tho Newtonian theory of gravitation ; ho dis-
covers obvions flaws in tho nohular hypothesis of Laplace;
ho gives a scholar's-mato to Kant in tho very fundamental
l)uiuts of tho ' Critique of Pure Iveason.' The more serious
tho attack, tho nioro utterly convinced is tho patient of
tho exceptional clearness of his own intelligence at that
particular moment. Ho writes pamphlets whoso scientific
value he ridiculously over-estimates; and ho is sure to bo
very angry with an}'' ono who tries rationally to combat
his newly found authority. Mathematical reasoners aro
especially liable to this form of incipient mental disease,
wliich, when combined with tho facial distortions already
alluded to in a previous section, is peculiarly apt to ter-
niinato in acute dementia."
*' Acute dementia again ! " Arthur Greatrcx cried with a
gesture of horror, flinging tho book from him as if it were
a poisonous serpent. "Acute dementia, acute dementia,
acute dementia; nothing but acute dementia ahead of me,
■whichever Avay I happen to turn. Oh, tliis is too horrible !
I shall never bo ablo to marry Hetty ! And yet I shall
never bo able to break it to Hetty ! Great heavens, that
sucli a phantom as this should have risen between me and
paradise only since this very morning ! "
In his agony ho caught up tho papers on which ho had
written tho rough draft of his grand discovery, and
crumpled them up fiercely in his fingers. "Tho cursed
things! " ho groaned between his teeth, tossing them with
a gesture of impatient disgust into tho waste-paper basket;
"how could I ever have deluded myself into thinking I
had hit olThand upon a grand truth which had escaped
such men as Helmholtz, and Mayer, and Joule, and Thom-
son ! Tho thing's preposterous upon the very face of it ;
I must bo going mad, indeed, ever to have dreamt of it ! "
82 STRANGE STORIES.
ITo took up Lis cnndlo onco more, kissed the portrait \n
the Lrokcn fnuno \\\\\\ iiitcnso fervour a dozen times over,
and then went np f^loomily into liis own bedroom. There
lie did not attempt to nndicss, hut merely pulled off his
l)Oots, lay down in his elothes upon the hed, and hastily
l)lew t)nt the candle. For a long time ho lay tossing anil
turning in unspcakahle terror; hut at last, after perhajis
two hours or so, he fell into a (rouldod bleep, and dreamed
a hideous nightmare, in which somebody or other in
shadowy outlines was trying perpetually to tear him aAvay
by main force from poor pale and weeping Hetty.
It was daylight when Arthur woke again, und ho lay
for some time upon his bed, thinking over his last night's
Bcare, which seemed much less serious, as such things
always do, now that the sun had risen upon it. After a
while his mind got round to the energy question ; and, as
he thought it over onco more, the conviction forced itself
afresh npon him that he was right upon the matter after
all, and that if ho was going mad there was at least methotl
in his madness. So firmly was ho convinced upon this
point jiow (though ho recognized that that very certainty
might bo merely a symptom of his coming malady) that
ho got up hurriedly, before the lodging-houso servant came
to clean up his littlo sitting-room, so as to rescue his
crumpled foolscap from the waste-paper basket. After
that, a bath and breakfast almost made him laugh at his
evening terrors.
All the morning Arthur Grratrex sat down at his tabic
again, working in the algebraical calculations which he
had omitted from his paper overnight, and finishing it in
full form as if for presentation to a learned society. But
ho did not mean now to offer it to any society : he had a
far deeper and more personal interest in the matter at
present than that. He wanted to settle first of all the
question whether he was going mad or not. Afterwards,
there would be plenty of time to settle such minor theo-
LIL aurATREX'S UXCrAGEMLWr.
83
rctical proLloms as (ho general physical constitution of tlio
universe.
As soon Jis lie liad finished liis calculations ho took tho
paper in his liands, and ^vent out with it to make two calls
on Kcientilio acquaintances. Tlio first man ho called upon
was that distinguished specialist, Trolcssor Linkliglit, one
of the greatest authorities of his own day on all questions
of inolecuhir physics. Poor man ! ho is almost forgotten
now, for ho died ten years ago ; and his scientific reputa-
tion was, after all, of that ilashy sort which hascs itself
chiefly upon 2;ivini»; <j:;ood dinners to leading fellows of tho
Iloyal Society.. But fifteen years ago ProfLSsor Linkliglit,
■with his cut-and-dried dogmatic notions, and his narrow
technical accuracy, was universally considered tho prin-
cipal physical philoso})her in all England. To liim,
then, Arthur Greatrcx — a far deeper and clearer thinker —
took in all humility tho first manuscript of liis marvellous
discovery ; not to ask him whether it was true or not, hut
to find out whether it was physical science at all or pure
insanity. The professor received him kindly; and when
Arthur, who had of course his own reasons for attempting
a littlo modest concealment, asked him to look over a
friend's paper for liim, with a view to its presentation to
tho Itoyal Society, ho cheerfully promised to do liis best.
"Though you will admit, my dear Mr. Greatrox," ho said
with his blandest smile, " that your friend's manuscrijit
certainly does not err on the sido of excessive brevity."
From Linklight's, Arthur walked on tremulously to tho
house of another great scientific magnate, Dr. AVarminster,
who shared with his friendly rival, Abury, the reputation
of being tho first living authority on tho treatment of the
insane in the United Kingdom. Before Dr. Warminster,
Arthur mado no attempt to conceal his apprehensions.
Ho told out all his symptoms and fears without reserve,
I even exaggerating them a little, as a man is prone to do
' through over-anxiety not to put too favourable a face upon
84 STItANGE STOTilES.
his own fiilincnts. Dr; "Wiirminstcr listened attentively
and with a ;i;athevinj; interest to all that Arthur told him,
and at the end of his account ho shook his head j;looniily,
and answered in a very grave and sympathetic tone.
*' My dear Grtatrex," ho said gently, holding his arm
with a kindly pressure, " I should ho dealing wrongly
with y<»n if I did not candidly tcdl you that your case
gives ground for very serious apprehensions. You aro a
young man, and with steady attention to curative means
and surroundings, it is possible that you may ward off
this threatened danger. Society, amusement, relaxation,
com])lete cessation of scientific work, absence, as far as
possible, of mental anxiety in any form, may enable you
to tide over the turning point. But that there is danger
threatened, it would bo unkind and untrue not to warn
you. It is very unusual for a patient to consult us in
person about these matters. More often it is the friends
who notice the coming change ; but, as you ask mo
directly for an opinion, I can't help telling you that I
regard your caso as not without real cause for the strictest
caro and for a preventive regimen."
Arthur thanked him for tlio numerous directions ho
gave as to things which should bo done or things which
should be avoided, and liurried out into the street with
his brain swimming and reeling. " Absence of mental
anxioty ! " ho said to himself bitterly. " How calmly
they talk about mental anxiety ! How can I possibly be
free from anxiety when I know I may go mad at any
moment, and that the blow would kill Hetty outright ?
For myself, I should not care a farthing ; but for Hetty !
It is too terrible."
Ho had not the heart to call at the Aburys' that after-
noon, though he had promised to do so ; and he tortured
himself with the thought that Hetty would think him
neglectful. Ho could not call again while the present
suspense lasted ; and if his worst fears were confirmed ho
Dn. annATULX's engackmest.
8ff
coiiUl never call again, except once, to take leave of Hetty
forever. Fur, tleeply as Arthur (Jreatrex loved her, ho
loved her too well ever to dream of marrying her if tho
poHsihlo shadow of madness was to cloud her future lifo
with its perpetual presence, lietter she should bear tho
shock, oven if it killed her at once, than that both should
live in ceaseless apprehension of that horrible possibility,
and should become tho parents of children upon whom
that hereditary curse might rest for a lifetime, reflecting
itself back with tho added sting of conscientious roniorso
on the father wlio had brought them into the world
against his own clear judgment of right and justice.
Next morning Arthur went round once more to Professor
Linklight's. Tiie professor had promised to read through
tho paper immediately, and give his opinion of its chaucea
for presentation to tho Royal Society, lie was sitting at
liis breakfast-table, in his flowered dressing-gown and
slippers, when Arthur called upon him, and, with a q\x\} of
cofieo in one hand, was actually skimming tho last few
pages through his critical eye-glass as his visitor entered.
"Good-morning, Mr. Greatrex ! " ho said, with one of
his most gracious smiles, indicative of tho warm welcomo
extended by acknowledged wisdom towards rising talent.
" You see I have been reading your friend's paper, as I
promised. Well, my dear sir, not to put too fine a point,
upon it, it won't hold water. In fact, it's a mere rigmarole,
Excuse my asking you, Greatrex, but have you any idea,
my dear fellow, whether your friend is inclined to be a
little cracky?"
Arthur swallowed a groan with the greatest difficulty , and
answered in as unconcerned a tone as possible, " Well, to
tell you the truth, Mr. Linklight, some doubts have been
cast upon his perfect sanity."
*' Ah, I should have thought so," tho professor went on
in his airiest manner ; " I should have thought so. The fact
is, this paper is fitter for the Transactions of the Colney
36 STBANGE STORIES.
Hatch Academy than for thoso of the Eoyal Society. It
has a delusive outer appearance of pliysical thinking, hut
there's no real meaning in it of any sort. It's gassy,
unsuhstantial, purely imaginative." Ard the professor
waved his hand in the air to indicate its utter gascousness.
" If you were to osk my own opinion al)0ut it, I should say
it's the sort of thing that might he produced by a young
man of some mathematical training with a very superficial
knowledge of modern physics, just as he was on the point
of lapsing into complete insanity. It's the maddest bit of
writing that has ever yet fallen under my critical notice."
" Your opinion is of course conclusive," Artliur answered
with unfeigned humility, his eyes almost bursting with
the tears he would not let come to the surface. " It will
be a great disappointment to my friend, but I have no
doubt liG will accei^t your verdict."
" Not a bit of it, my dear sir," the professor put in
quickly. " Not a bit of it. Tlicse cra/y fellows always
stick to their own opinions, and think you a perfect fool
for disagreeing with them. j\[ark my words, Mr. Grcatrex,
your friend will still go on believing, in spite of every-
thing, that his roundabout reasoning upon that prepos-
terous square-root-of-Pi theorem is sound mathematics."
And Arthur, looking within, felt with a glow of horror
that the theorem in question seemed to him at that moment
more obviously true and certain in all its deductions than
it had ever done before since the first day that he conceived
it. IIow very mad he must be after all.
Ho thanked Professor Linklight as well as ho was able
for his kindness in looking over the i)aper, and groped his
way blindly through the passage to the front door and
out into the square. Thence he staggered home wearily,
convinced that it was all over between him and Hetty,
and that he must make up his mind forthwith to his
horrible destiny.
If he had only known at that moment that forty years
Lli. GBEATTiEX'S ENGAGEMENT. 87
earlier Professor Liiilcliglit had used almost tho samo
words about Young's theory of unduhitions, and had since
used them about every new discovery from that day to
the one on which ho then saw him, he might have attached
less importance than he actually did to this sujoposod final
proof of his own insanity.
As Arthur entered his lodgings ho hung his hat up on
the stand in the passage. There was a little strip of
mirror in the middle of tho stand, and glancing at it
casually ho saw once more that awful face — his own —
distorted and almost diabolical, which ho had learnt so
soon to hate instinctively as if it were a felon's and a
murderer's, lie rushed away wildly into his little sitting-
room, and flung his manuscript on tho tabic, almost
without observing that his friend Frccling, the rising
physiologist, was (quietly seated on the sofa opposite.
"What's this, Arthur?" Frceling asked, taking it up
carelessly and glancing at the title. " You don't mean to
say that you've linall}' written out that splendid idea of
yours about tho interrehttions of energy ? "
" Yes, I have, llariy : I have, and I wish to heaven
I hadn't, for it's all mad and silly and foolish and
meaningless ! "
♦' If it is, then I'm mad too, my dear follow, for I think
it's tho most convincing thing in physics I ever listened
to. Lot me have the manuscript to look over, and see how
you'vCjWorked out those beautiful calculations about the
.s(|uare rijot of Pi, will you ? "
" Take the thing, for lieavcn's sake, and leave mo,
Harry, for if I'm not left alone I shall break down and
<'ry before you." And as he spoko ho buried his head in
his arm and sobbed like a woman.
Dr. Freeliiig knew Arthur was in lovo, and Avas aware
that people sometimes act very unaccountably under such
circumstances ; so ho did the wisest thing to be done then
nnd there : he grasped ]vti friend's arm gently with his
38 STEANGE STORIES.
hand, spoke never a word, and, taking up his hat and tho
manuscript, walked quietly out into the passage. Then
he tokl the kandhidy to make Mr. Greatrex a strong cup of
tea, with a dash of brandy in it, and turned away, leaving
Arthur to solitude and his own reflections.
That evening's post brought Arthur Greatrex two
letters, which finally completed his utter prostration.
The first he opened was Ironi Dr. Abury. Ho broke the
envelope witli a terrible misgiving, and read the letter
through with a deepening and sickening feeling of horror.
It was not he alone, then, Avho had distorted tho secret of
his own incipient insanity. Dr. Abury's practised eyo
had also detected tho rising symptoms. The doctor wrote
kindly and with evident grief; but there was no mis-
taking the firm purport of his intentions. Conferring this
morning with his professional friend Warminster, a case
had been mentioned to him, without a name, which he at
once recognized as Arthur's. He recalled certain symp-
toms he had himself observed, and his suspicions wero
thus vividly aroused. Happening accidentally to follow
Arthur in tho street he Avas convinced that his surmise
was correct, and he thought it his duty both to inform
Arthur of the danger that encompassed him, and to assure
him that, deeply as it grieved him to withdraw the consent
he had so gladly given, he|could not allow his only daughter
to marry a man bearing on his face the evident marks of
an insane tendency. The letter contained much more of
regret and condolence ; but that was the pith that Arthur
Greatrex picked out of it all through tho blinding tears
that dimmed his vision.
Tho second letter was from IIett3\ Half guessing its
contents, ho had left it purposely till the last, and ho tore
it open now with a fearful sinking feeling in his bosom. It
was indeed a heart-broken, heart-breaking letter. What
could be the secret which papa would not tell her ? Why
had not Arthur come yesterday? AMiy could she never
DB. GIIEATREX'S ENGAGEMENT. 89
marry him ? Why was papa so cruel as not to tell her
the reason? Ho couldn't havo done anvthino; in tho
slightest degree dishonourable, far less anything wicked :
of that she felt sure; but, if not, what could bo this
horrible, mysterious, unknown barrier that was so sud-
denly raised between them ? " Do write, dearest Arthur,
and relievo me from this terrible, incomprehensible sus-
pense ; do let me know what has happened to make papa
so determined against you. I could bear to lose you — at
least I could bear it as other women havo done — but I
can't bear this awful uncertainty, this awful doubt as to
your love or your constancy. For heaven's sake, darling,
send me a note somehow ! send mo a line to tell mo you
love me. Your heart-broken
"Hetty."
Arthur took his hat, and, unable to enduro this agony,
set out at once for tho Aburys'. When ho reached the
door, the servant who answered his ring at tho boll told
iiim he could not seo tho doctor ; ho was engaged with two
other doctors in a consultation about Miss Hetty. What
was tho matter with Miss Hetty, then ? What, didn't ho
know that? Oh, Miss Hetty had had a fit, and l)r.
Freeling and Dr. MacKinlay had been called in to seo her.
Arthur did not wait for a moment, but walked upstairs
unannounced, and into tho consulting room.
Was it a very serious matter? Yes, Freeling answered,
very serious. It seemed Miss Abury had had a great
shock — a great shock to her affections — which, ho added
in a lower voice, " you yourself can perhaps best explain
to mo. Sho will certainly havo a long illness. Perhaps
she may never recover."
" Come out into tho conservatory, Harry," said Arthur
to his friend. "I can tell you there what it is all
about."
In a few words Arthur told him tho nature of the
A
■*
40 STEANGE STOIilES.
shock, but without describing the particular symptoms
on which the opinion of his supposed approaching
insanity was based. Frecling listened with an incredulous
smile, and at the end he said to his friend gently,
" My dear Arthur, I wish you had told me all this l)efore.
If you had done so, we might have saved Miss Abury a
shock which may perhaps be fatal. You are no more
going mad than I am ; on the contrary, you're about the
sanest and most clear-headed fellow of my acquaintance.
Bit these mad-doctors are always finding madness every-
where. If you had come to me and told mo the symptoms
that troubled you, I should soon have set you right again
in your own opinion. To have gone to Warminster was
most unfortunate, but it can't bo helped now. What wo
have to do at present is to take care of Miss Abury."
Arthur shook his head sadly. " Ah," he said, " you
don't know the real gravity of the symptoms I am
suffering from. I shall tell you all about them some other
time. However, as you say, what we have to think about
now is Hetty. Can yon let me see her ? I am sure if I
could sec her it would reassure her and do her good."
I)r. Abury was at first very unwilling to let Arthur
visit Hetty, who was now lying unconscious on the sofa in
her own boudoir ; but Freeling's opinion that it might
possibly do her good at last prevailed with him, and ho
gave his permission grudgingly.
Arthur went into the room silently and took his seat
beside the low couch where the motherless girl was lying.
Her face was very white, and her hands pale and blood-
less. He took one hand in his : the pulse was hardly
perceptible. He laid it down upon her breast, and leaned
back to watch for any sign of returning life in her pallid
cheek and closed eyelids.
For hours and hours he sat there watching, and no
sign came. Dr. Abury sat at the bottom of the couch,
watching with him ; and as they watched, Arthur felt
nil. GIIEATEEX'S ENGAGEMENT. 41
from time to timo that lils face was again twitching
horribly. However, ho had only thonghts for ono thing
now: would Hetty die or would she recover? Tho
servants brought them a little cako and wine. They
sat and drank in silence, looking at ono another, but
each absorbed in his own thoughts, and speaking never a
word for good or evil.
At last Hetty's eyes opened. Arthnr noticed tho
change first, and took her hand in his gently. Her
staring gaze fell upon hiui for a moment, and she asked
feebly, " Arthur, Arthnr, do you still love mo ? "
"Lovoytm, Hetty? AVith all my heart and soul, as I
have always loved you ! "
She smiled, and said nothing. Dr. Abury gave her a
little wine in a teaspoon, and she drank it quietly. Then
she shut her eyes again, but this timo she was sleeping.
All nig] it Arthur watched still by tho bedside where
they put her a little later, and 1)^. Abury and a nurse
watched with him. In tho morning she woke slightly
better, and when she saw Arthur still there, she smiled
again, and said that if he was with her, she was happy.
When Freeling came to inquire after the patient, he
ibund her so much stronger, and Arthur so worn with fear
and sleeplessness, that he insisted upon carrying off his
friend in his brougham to his own house, and giving him
a slight restorative. He might come back at once, he
said ; but only after he had had a dose of mixture, a glass
of brandy and seltzer, and at least a mouthful of some-
thing for breakfast.
As Freeling was drawing the cork of tho seltzer,
Arthur's eye happened to light on a monkey, which was
chained to a post in the little area plot outside tho con-
sulting-room, Arthur was accustomed to see monkeys
there, for Freeling often had invalids from tho Zoo to
observe side by side with human patients ; but this par-
ticular monkey fascinated him even in his present shat-
42 . STRANGE STORIES.
teretl state of nerves, becanse there was a sometliing in its
face wliicli seemed strangely and horribly familiar to him.
As ho looked, ho recognized with a feeling of unspcakablo
aversion what it was of which tho monkey reminded
him. It was making a series of hideous and apparently
mocking grimaces — the very self-same grimaces which
ho had seen on his own features in tho mirror during
the last day or two ! Horrible idea ! He was descending
to the level of the very monkeys !
The more he watched, tho more absolutely identical tho
two sets of grimaces appeared to him to be. Could it bo
fancy or was it reality? Or might it be one more delu-
sion, showing that his brain was now giving way entirely?
He rubbed his eyes, steadied his attention, and looked
again with the deepest interest. No, he could not bo
mistaken. Tho monkey was acting in every respect
precisely as ho himself had acted.
" Harry," ho said, in a low and frightened tone, " look
at this monkey. Is he mad ? Tell me."
"My dear Arthur," replied his friend, with just a shade
of expostulation in his voice, " you have really got mad-
ness on the brain at present. No, ho isn't mad at all.
He's as sane as you are, and that's saying a good deal, I
can assure you."
" But, Harry, you can't have seen what he's doing.
He's grimacing and contorting himself in tho most extra-
ordinary fashion."
" Well, monkeys often do grimace, don't they ? " Harry
Freeling answered coolly. " Take this brandy and you'll
soon feel better."
" But they don't grimace like this one," Arthur per-
sisted.
" No, not like this one, certainly. That's why I've got
him here. I'm going to operate upon him for it under
chloroform, and cure him immediately."
Arthur leaped from his seat like one demented. " Operato
Dli. GllEATliE.VS EXGAGEMENT.
4&
upon him, euro liiiii ! " ho cried hastily. *' 'What on earth
do you mean, Harry ?"
"My dear hoy, don't ho so excited," said Freeling.
" This suspense and sleeplessness havo been too much for
you. This is antiviviscction carried ad ahsiirdiun. You
don't mean to say you ohject to o]ierations upon a monkey
fur his own honetit, do you ? If I don't cut a nerve,
tetanus will finally set in, and he'll die of it in great
ap;ony. Drink off your brandy, and you'll feel better
after it."
" But, Harry, what's the matter with the monkey ? For
heaven's sake, tell mo ! "
Harry Frecling looked at his friend for the first time a
little suspiciously. Could AVarminster be right after all,
and could Arthur really bo going mad ? It was so ridi-
culous of him to get into such a state of flurry about the
ailments of a tame monkey, and at such a moment, too!
'• Well," ho answered slowly, " tho monkey has got facial
distortions duo to a slight local paralysis of tho inhibitory
nerves supplied to tho buccal and pharyngeal muscles,
with a tendencv to end in tetanus. If I cut a small
ganglion behind tho car, and exhibit santonin, tho muscles
will be relaxed ; and though they won't act so freely as
before, they won't jerk and grimace any longer."
" Does it ever occur in human beings ? " Arthur asked
eagerly.
" Occur in human beings ? Bless my soul, yes ! I'vo
seen dozens of cases. AVliy, goodness gracious, Arthur,
it's positively occurring in j'our own face at this very
moment ! "
" I know it is," Arthur answered in an agony of sus-
pense. *' Do you think this twitching of mine is duo to
a local paralysis of the inhibitories, such as you speak of? "
" Excuse my laughing, my dear fellow ; you really do
look so absurdly comical. No, I don't think anything
about it. I know it is."
44 STRANGE STORIES.
" Then you "believe Warminster was wrong in taking it
for a symptom of incipient insanity ? "
It was Frcoling's turn now to jump up in surprise.
" You don't mean to tell mo, Arthur, that that was the
solo ground on which that old fool, Warminster, thought
you were going crazy ? "
" IIo didn't SCO it himself," answered Arthur, with a
sigh of unspeakable relief. " I only described it to him,
and he drew his inference from what I told him. But the
real question is this, Harry : Do you feel quite sure that
there's nothinc: more than that tlio matter with me ? "
" Absolutely certain, my dear fellow. I can cure you
in half an hour. I've done it dozens of times before, and
know the thing as well as you know an ordinary case of
scarlet fever."
Arthur sighed again. " And perhaps," ho said bitterly,
"this terrible mistake may cost dear Hetty her life !"
Ho drank off the brandy, ate a few mouthfuls of food
as best ho might, and hastened back to tho Aburys'.
When he got there he learned from the servant that Hetty
was at least no worse ; and with that negative comfort ho
had for tho moment to content himself.
Hetty's illness was long and scri(jus ; but before it was
over Freeling was able to convince Dr. Abury of his own
and his colleague's error, and to prove by a simple piece
of surgery that Arthur's hideous grimaces were duo to
nothing worse than a purely physical impediment. The
operation was quite a successful one ; but though Great-
rex's faco has never since been liable to these curious
contortions, tho consequent relaxation of the muscles has
given his features that peculiarly calm and almost im-
passive expression which everybody must have noticed
^^pon them at tho present day, even in moments of the
greatest animation. The difficulty was how to break tho
oause of the temporary mistake to Hetty, and this they
wore unable to do until sho was to a great extent con-
Dli GllEATUEX'S ENGAGEMENT. 4;!
vakscent. AVhen onco the needful explanation was over,
and Artluir was aLlo onco more to kisa her with perfect
freedom from any tin^o of suspicion on lier part, ho felt
that his paradise was at last attained.
A few days heforo tlic deferred date fixed for their
weddincj, Frccling came into the doctor's drawing-rcom,
where Hetty and Arthur were sitting together, and tlirow
a letter with a Frcncli official stamp on its face down
upon the table. " There," ho said, " I find all tho members
of tho Academic des Sciences at Paris aro madmen also ! "
Hetty smiled faintly, and said wit]i a littlo earnestness
in her tone, " All, Dr. Frccling, that subject has been far
too serious a one for both of us to make it pleasant jesting."
"Oh, but look hero, IMiss Abury," said Freeling; "I
have to apologise to Artliur for a great liberty I have
ventured to take, and I tliink it best to begin by ox-
plaining to you wherein it consisted. Tho fact is, before
you were ill, Artluir had just written a paper on tho in-
terrelations of energy, which he showed to that pompous
old nincompoop. Professor Linklight. Well, Linklight
being ono of those men who can never see an inch beyond
his own nose, had the incomprehensiblo stupidity to tell
him there was nothing in it. Thereupon your future
husband, who is a modest and self-depreciating sort of
fellow, was minded to throw it incontinently into tho
waste-paper basket. But a friend of his, Harry Freeling,
who flatters himself that ho can sco an inch or two beyond
his own nose, read it over, and recognized that it was a
brilliant discovery. So what does ho go and do — hero
comes in tho apologetic matter — but get this memoir
quietly translated into French, affix a motto to it, put it
in an envelope, and send it in for tho gold medal com-
petition of tho Academic. Strange to say, tho members
of the Academic turned out to be every bit as mad as the
author and his friend ; for I have just received this letter,
addressed to Arthur at my house (which I have taken tho
■
4G STRANGE STOUIES.
further liberty of opening), and it informs mo that tho
Acadeniio clucrees its gokl medal for physical discovery to
j\[. Arthur Greatrex, of London, which is a subject of
congratulation for us tlirco, and a regular slap in tho faco
for pompous old Linlclight."
Hetty seized Frceling's two hands in hers. " You have
Ijccn our gucjd genius, Dr. Freeling," she said with brim-
ming eyes. " I owe Arthur to you ; and Arthur owes mo
to you ; and now wo both owe j'ou this. What can wo
ever do to thank you sufficiently ? "
Since those days llctty and Arthur have long been
married, and Dr. (jlrcatrox's famous work (in its enlarged
form) has been translated into all tho civilized languages
of tho world, as well as into German ; but to this moment,
happy as they both are, you can read in their faces the
lasting marks of that one terrible anxiety. To many of
their friends it seemed afterwards a more laughing matter ;
but to thoso two, who went through it, and especially to
Arthur Greatrex, it is a memory too painful to be looked
back upon even now witliout a thrill of teii'ible recol-
lection.
3fn. CHUNG.
riiE first time I ever met poor Clinng was at ono of AFrs.
LJouvcric Barton's Tliursday cvciung receptions in Eiitoa
Place. Of course you know Mrs. Bouverio Barton, tho
3lcvercst literary hostess at tliis moment living in London,
ricrself a well-known novelist, slio collects around her all
tho people worth knowing, at her delightful At Homes ;
and whenever you go there you arc sure to meet somebody
whoso acquaintance is a treasure and an acquisition for
your whole after life.
Well, it so happened on ono of those cnjoyablo Thurs-
day evenings that I was sitting on the circular ottoman in
the little hack room -with Miss Amelia Hogg, tho famous
woman's-rights advocate. Now, if there is a subject on
earth which infinitely bores me, that subject is woman's
rights ; and if there is a person on earth who can make it
absolutely unendurable, that person is Miss Amelia Hogg.
So I let her speak on placidly in her own interminable
manner about the fortunes of the Bill — she always talks
;*s though her own pet Bill were tho only Bill now exist-
ing on this sublunary planet — and while I interposed an
occasional " Indeed " or " Quito so " for form's sake, I gavo
myself up in reality to digesting tho conversation of two
intelligent people who sat back to back with us on tho
other side of the round ottoman.
"Yes," said ono of the speakers, in a peculiarly soft
48 STRANGE STORIES.
silvery voice wliich cnntrnstcd oddly with I\Iiss IT(.)gg'.s
querulous treble, " Iuh loss is a very Kcvoro ouo to con-
temporary philosojiliy. llis l)Ook on tlio " riiysiolojijy of
Perception " is one of the most masterly pieces of analytic
■work I have ever met -vvilh in tlio whole course of my
psycholoj^iciil reading. It was to me, I confess, who ap-
proached it frcsli from the school of Schclling and llegul,
a perfect revelation of a liostcrior'i thinking. I shall never
coaso to regret that ho did not livo long enough to com-
plete tho second volume."
Just at this point JMiss Hogg had como to a panso in her
explanation of tho scventy-iirst clause of tho Bill, and I
stole a look round tho corner to seo who ray philosophic
neighbour might happen to be. An Oxford don, no doubt,
I said to myself, or a young ( \and)ridgo professor, freshly
crammed to the throat with all the learning of tho Moral
Science Tripos.
Imagine my surprise when, on glancing casually at tho
silvery-voiced speaker, I discovered him to bo a full-blown
Chinaman ! Yes, a yellow-skinned, almond-eyed, Mon-
golian-featured Chinaman, with a long pigtail hanging
down his back, and attired in the official amber silk robo
and purple slippers of a mandarin of tho third grade, and
tho silver button. My curiosity was so fully aroused by
this strange discovery that I determined to learn some-
thing more about so curious a product of an alien civiliza-
tion ; and therefore, after a few minutes, I managed to
give Miss Amelia Hogg tho slip by drawing in young
Harry Farquhar tho artist at tho hundred-and-twentieth
section, and making my way quietly across the room to
Mrs. Bouverio Barton.
" Tho namo of that young Chinaman ? " our hostess said
in answer to my question. " Oh, certainly ; he is Mr.
Chung, of the Chinese Legation. A most intelligent and
■well-educated young man, with a great deal of taste for
European literature. Introduce you ? — of course, this
Mil. ciiiwa.
40
niimitc." Aiul slio led iho way back to -vvlioro my Oriental
phcnoinonon-wnH still sittlnj::, (loop as (3Vorin philosophical
prohloins with rrofL'ssorWoolstock, a spectacled oM f^-eiitlc-
man of fiernian aspect, who was evidently pinn])in<:; him
llioroii^hly witli a view to the materials for Voliiia(> Forty
of liis fortlieomiii^* i^r^at work on " Ethnical rsyclujlogy."
T sat hy.Mr. ('hun<^' for tlio greater part of what was
left of that evening. From tho very first ho exercised a
sort of indescrihahlo fascination over mo. His English
had hardly a trace of foreign accent, and his voice was one
of tho sweetest and most exquisitely modnlatod that I have
over heard. AVhen he looked at yon, his deep calm eyes
hospoke at once tho very essence of transparent sincerity.
Before tho evening was over, ho had told mo tho whole
history of his education and his past life. Tho son of a
well-to-do Pekin mandarin, of distinctly European tastes,
he had early passed all his examinations in China, and had
been selected hv the Celestial Government as one of tho
first hatch of students sent to Europo to ac'piire the ton;4ue.s
and tho sciences of tho Western barbarians, (.'hung's
bilh t was to England; and lui'e, or in France, ho had lived
witli a few intervals ever bince ho first came to man's
estate. He luul picked up our language ([uickly ; had
taken a degree at London University; and had made him-
self thonuighly at homo in Engli.sh literature. In fact, he
was practically an Englishman in everything but face and
clothing. His naturally fino hitellect had assimilated
European thought and European feeling with extraordinary
case, and it was often almost impo.ssihlo in talking with
him to remember that ho was not one of ourselves. If
you shut your eyes and listened, you heard a pleasant,
cultivated, intelligent young Englishman; when you
cpened them again, it was always a fresh surprise to find
yourself conversing with a genuine yellow-faced pig-tailed
;^liinaman, in tho full costume of the peacock's feather.
" You -ould never go back to live in China? " I said to
5
r>Q STRANGE STORIES.
him inquiringly after a time. " You couid never endure
life amonc; your own people after so long a residence in
civilized Europe?"
" My dear sir," he answered with a slight shudder of
horror, " you do not reflect Avhat iiwy position actually is.
]\[y Government may recall me any day. I am simply at
their mercj-, and I must do as I am bidden."
"But you would not like China," I pu: in.
" Like it I " ho exclaimed with a gesture which for a
Chinaman I suppose one must call violent. •' I should
abhor it. It would be a living death. You who have
never been in China can have no idea of what an awful
misfortune it would bo for a man who has acquired civi-
lized habits and modes of thought to live among such a
set of more than mediieval barbarians as my countrymen
still remain at the present day. Oh no; God grant I
may never have to return there permanently, for it would
be more than I could endure. Even a short visit to Pekin
is bad enough ; the place reeks of cruelty, jobbery, and
superstition from end to end ; and 1 always breathe more
freely when I have once more got back on to the deck of
a I'airopeaii steamer that flies the familiar British flag."
" Then you are not patriotic," I ventured to say.
" Patriotic ! " he replied with a slight curl of the lip ;
" how can a man be patriotic to such a mass of corruption
and abomination as our Chinese Government? I can
understand a patriotic Russian, a patriotic Egyptian, nay,
even a patriotic Turk ; but a patriotic Chinaman — why,
the very notion is palpably absurd. Listen, my dear sir;
you ask me if I could live in China. No, I couldn't ; and
for the best of all possible reasons — they wouldn't let me.
You don't know what the furious prejudice and blind
superstition of that awful country really is. Before I had
been there three months they would accuse mo cither of
foreign practices or, what comes to much the same thing,
of witchcraft; and they would put me to death by one
MJi. CHUNG. 51
of their most horriblo torturing punlsliinonts— atrocities
which I could not cvon mention in an English drawing-
room. That is tlio sort of Damocles' sword that is always
hanf»'ing over the head of every Europcanized Chinaman
who returns against his OAvn free will to his native
land."
I was startled and surprised. It seemed so natural and
simple to bo talking under Mrs. Bouverio Barton's Lig
chandelier with this interesting young man, and yet so
impossible for a moment to connect him in thought with
all the terrible things that one had read in books about
the prisons and penal laws of China. That a graduate of
London University, a philosopher learned in all the poli-
tical wisdom of Ilicardo, Mill, and Herbert Spencer, should
really bo subject to that barbaric code of abominable tor-
tures, was more than one could positively realize. I
hesitated a moment, and then I said, " But of course they
will never recall you."
" I trust not," he said quietly ; " I pray not. Very
likely tliey will let me stop hero all my lifetime. I am
an assistant interpreter to the Embassy, in wliicli capacity
I am useful to Pekin ; whereas in any home appointment
I would of course be an utter failure, a manifest impossi-
bility. But there is really no accounting for the wild
vagaries and caprices of the Vermilion Pencil. For aught
I know to tlic contrary, I might oven be recalled to-morrow.
If once they suspect a man of European sympathies, their
iirst idea is to cut off his head. They regard it as you
would regard the first plague-spot of cholera or small-po.\
in a great city."
"Heaven forbid that they should ever recall you," I
said earnestly ; for already I had taken a strong fancy to
this strange phenomenon of \Vestern education grafted on
an immemorial Eastern stock ; and I had road enougli of
China to know that what ho said about his probable fate
if ho returned there permanently was nothing more than
52 STRANGE STORIES.
the literal ti'iiili. The Laroidca of such a catastrophe wa&
too horrible to bo realized for a moment in Eaton Place.
As we drove home in our little ono-horso brougham that
eveninc^:, my wife and Efno wore very anxious to learn
what manner of man my Chinese acquaintance might really
he; and when I told them what a charming person I had
found hiin, thcv were botli inclined rather to laugh at mo
for my entliusiastic description. Eftle, in particular, jeered
much at the notion of an intelligent and earnest-minded
Chinaman. "You know, Uncle darling," she said in her
bewitching way, "all your geese are always swans. Every
woman you meet is absolutely beautiful, and every man is
perfectly delightful — till Auntie and I liaA'O seen them."
"Perfectly true, Effie," I answered; " it is an amiable
weakness of mine, after all."
However, before the week was out Effio and jMariaii
between them winild have it that I must call upon Chung
and ask him to dine with us at Kensington Park Terrace.
Their curiosity was piqued, for one thing; and for an-
other thing, they thought it rather the clieeso in these
days of expansive cosmopolitanism to bo on speaking terms
with a (,'hinesc attache. " Japanese are cheap," said Efiie,
"horribly chea]) of late years — a perfect drug in the
market ; but a Chinaman is still, thank Heaven, at a social
premium." Now, though I am an obedient enough hus-
band, as husbands go, I don't always accede to Marian's
wishes in these matters ; but everybody takes it for granted
that Eflie's will is law. Eflie, I may mention parentheti-
cally, is more tlian a daughter to us, for she is poor Tom's
only child ; and of course everybody connected with dear
Tom is doubly precious to us now, as you may easily ima-
gine. So when Effio had made up her mind that Chung
was to dine with us, the thing was settled ; and I called at
his rooms and duly invited him, to the general satisfactiou
of everybody concerned.
The dinner was a very pleasant one, and, for a wonder,
MIL CHUNG.
53
T]ftiG and Marian Loth coincided entirely in my hastily
Ibriucd opinion of Mr. (Jlmnj^. His mellow silvery voice,
liis frank trnthful manner, his perfect freedom from self-
oonsciousness, all pleased and impressed those stern critics,
and by the end of the evening they Avero Loth qnito as
much taken with his delightful persomility as I myself had
originally been. One link leads on to another; and the
end of it all was that when we went down for our summer
villoggiatura to Abbot's Xorbury, notliing would plcaso
IMarian but that ]Mr. Chung must be invited down as one
of our pa^t3^ He came willingly enough, and for live or
six weeks wo had as pleasant a time together as any four
people ever spent, (,'hung was a perfect encyclopaedia of
information, while his good humour and good s})irits never
for a moment failed him under any circumstances what-
soever.
One day we had made up a little private picnic to
Xorbury Edgx', and were sitting together after luncheon
under the shade of the big ash tree, when the conversation
happened to turn by accident on the small feet of Cliineso
ladies. I had often noticed that Chung was very reticent
about Cliina; he did not like talking about his native
country'; and ho was most pleased and most at liomo when
we treated him most like a Ihiropean born. Evidently ho
hated tin; provincialism of the Flowery Land, and loved
io lose his identity in the wider culture of a Western
•ivilization.
•' IIow funny it will be," said Efiio, " to see ]\Irs. Chung's
liny feet when yiju bring her to London. I suppose one
of these days, on one of your fij'ing visits to I'ekin, you
will take to yourself a wife in your country?"
"No," Chung answered, with (juiet dignity; "I .shall
never marry— that I have (piito decided in my own mind."
" Oh, don't say that," Marian put in (juickly ; " I hate to
iiear men say thev'll never marrv. It is such a terrible
:iiistako. They become so sellhsh, and frumpish, and oKl-
84 stuakge stories.
bachelorish." Dear IMarian has a liigli idea of tlie services
she has reiidcrod to society in saving her own fortunate
Inisband from this miscraLlo and deplorable condition.
•' Perhaps so," Chung replied quietly. " No doubt what
you say is true as a rule. But, for my own part, I could
never marry a Chinawoman ; I am too thoroughly
Europeani/od for that ; we should have absolutely no tastes
or sympathies in common. You don't know what my
countrywomen are like, Mrs. "Walters."
" All, no," said my wifo c(mtomplatively ; *' I suppose
your people are all heathens. AVhy, goodness gracious,
Mr. Chung, if it comes to that, I suppose really you arc a
heathen yourself! "
Chung parried the question gracefull}'. " Don't you
know," said he, "what Lord Chesterfield answered to the
lady who asked him what religion he professed? 'Madam,
the religion to which all wiso men belong.' 'And what
is that V ' said she. ' Madam, no wise man over says.' "
" Never mind Lord Cliestcrfield," said Efiie, smiling,
" but let us come back to the future Mrs. Chuno;. I'm
quite disappointed you won't marry a Chinawoman ; but
at any rate I suppose you'll marry somebody ? "
" Well, not a European, of course," Marian put in.
" Oh, of course not," Chung echoed with tnio Oriental
imperturbability.
" Why of course 9 " Effie asked half imconsciously ; and
yet the very unconsciousness with which she asked the
question showed in itself that she instinctively felt the gulf
as much as any of us. If Chung liad been a white man
instead of a yellow one, she would hardly have discussed
the question at issue wdth so much simplicity and obvious
innocence.
*' Well, I will tell you why," Chung answered. " Be-
cause, even supposing any European lady were to consent
to become my wife — which is in the first place eminently
improbable — I could never think of putting her in the
Ml!. criuxG.
•)J
terribly falso position that she would have to occupy iiiuler
existing circumstances. To begin with, herplaeo in ]']Tiglisli
society would be a peculiar and a trying one. lUit that is
not all. You must remember that 1 am still a subject of
the Chinese Empire, and a member of the Cliineso Civil
Service. I may any day bo recalled to China, and of
course — I say ' of course ' this time advisedly — it would
bo absolutely impossible for mo to take an English wife to
Pek.'.i 'vitli me. fSu I am placed in this awkward dilemma.
I would never care to marry anyl)()dy except a European
lady ; and to marry a European lady would be an act of
injustice to her which I could never dream of committing.
1 >ut considcringthejustifiablecontempt which all Europeans
rightly feel for us poor John Chinamen, I don't think it
probable in any case that the temptation is at all likely to
arise. And so, if yoiT please, as the newspapers always put
it, ' the suiiject then dropped.' "
We all saw that Chung v/as in earnest as to his wish
that no more should be said about the matter, and wo
respected his feelings accordingly ; but that evening, as wo
sat smoking in the arbour after the ladies had retired, I
said to him quietly, " Tell me, Chung, if you really aisliko
China so very much, and are so anxious not to return there,
why don't you throw oif your allegiance altogether,
become a British subject, and settle down among us for
good and all ? "
" My dear fellow," he said, smiling, " you don't think of
the diflicidties, I ma}- say the impossibilities, in the waj' of
any such plan as you propose. It is easy enough for a
European to throw off his nationality whenever he chooses ;
it [is a very different thing for an Asiatic to do so. More-
over, I am a member of a Legation. My Government
would never willingly let mc become a naturalized Englisli-
rnan ; and if I tried to manage it against their will they
would demand my extradition, and would carry their
point, too, as a matter of international courtesy, for one
50 STRANGE STORIES.
nation could never iiitorfero witli tho accredited ruprcscnta-
tivo of another, or Avith any of his suite. Even if I were
to ahscond and get rid of my personality altogether, what
would bo tho use of it? Nobody in England could find
any employment fur a Cliinaman. I have no property of
my own ; 1 depend entirely upon my salary fur support;
ray position is therefore quite hopeless. I must simply let
things go their own way, and trust to chance not to bo
recalled to Pekin."
During all tho rest of Chung's visit we let him roam
pretty mucli as he liked about the place, and Effie and I
generally went with him. Of course wo never for a moment
fancied it possible that Effie could conceivably take a fancy
to a yellow man like him ; the very notion was too pre-
posterously absurd. And yet, just towards the end of his
stay with us, it began to strike me uneasily that after all
even a Chinaman is human. And when a Chinaman
happens to have perfect manners, noble ideas, delicate
sensibilit}', and a chivalrous respect for English ladies, it
is perhaps just within tho bounds of conceivability that at
some odd moments an English girl might for a second
partially forget his oblique eyelids and his yellow skin.
I was sometimes half afraid that it might be so with Effie ;
and though I. don't think she wouht ever herself have
dreamed of marrying such a man — the physical barrier
between the races is far too profound for that — I fancy she
occasionally pitied poor Chung's loneliness with that
womanly pity which so easily glides into a deeper and
closer sentiment. Certainly she felt his isolation greatly,
and often hoped he would never really be obliged to go back
for ever to tliat hateful China.
One lovely summer evening, a few days before Chung's
holiday was to end, and his chief at the Embassy
expected him back again, Marian and I liad gone out for a
stroll together, and in coming home happened to walk
above tho little arbour in the shrubbery by the upper path.
ME. CHUNG.
57
A scat let into the hedge bank overhung the sninnier-house,
und hero wo both Bat down silently to rest after our walk-
ing. As we did so, wo heard Chung'K voice in the arbour
close below, so near and no clear that every word was qiiite
distinctly audible.
*' For the last time in England," ho was saying, with a
softly regretful cadence in his tone, as wo came upon
liim.
" The lad time, Mr. Chung ! " The other voice was
Effie's. " What on earth do you mean by that ? "
" What 1 say, JMiss AValtcrs. I am recalled to China ; I
got the letters of recall the day before yesterday."
" The day before yesterday, and you never told us ! Why
didn't you let us know before? "
" I did not know you would interest yourselves in my
private affairs."
" Mr. Chung ! " There was a deep air of reproach in
Tuflie's tone.
" AVell, Miss AValtcrs, that is not quite true. I ought
not to have said it to friends so kind as you have all
shown yourselves to be. No ; m}^ real reason was that I
did not wish to grieve you unnecessarily, and even now I
would not have done so, only "
"Only ?"
At this moment I for my part felt we had heard tuo
much. I blushed up to my eyes at the thought that wo
should have unwittingly played the spy upon these two
innocent young people. I was just going to call out and
rush down the little path to them ; but as I made a slight
movement forward, Marian held my Avrist with an implor-
ing gesture, and earnestly put her finger on my lips. I
was overborne, and I regret to say J stopped and listened.
Marian did not utter a word, but speaking rapidly on her
fingers, as we all had learnt to do for poor Tom, she said
impressivel5% " For God's sake, not a sound. This is
serious. We must and ouccht to hear it out." Marian is a
08 STRANGE STORIES.
very clever woman in these matters; and when she thinks
anythinf^' a point of duty to ])oor Tom's p,ir], T ahvays give
way to lier implicitly. l>ut I confess I didn't like it.
" Only ? " Effio had said.
" Only I felt compelled to now. I could not leave without
telling you liow deeply I had appreciated all yourkindness."
"But, Mr. Chung, tell mo one thing," she asked,
earnestly ; " why have they recalled you to Tekin ? "
" I had rather not tell you."
"I insist."
"Becauso they are displeased Avith my foreign tastes
and habits, which have been reported to them by some of
my fellow-attaches.'^
" But, Mr. Chung, Uncle snys there is no knowing what
they will do to you. They may kill you on some absurd
charge or other of witchcraft or something equally
meaningless."
"I am afraid," ho answered irapcrturbably, "that may
be the case. I dcm't mind at all on my own account — wo
Chinese are an apathetic race, you know — l)ut I should bo
sorry to bo a cause of grief to any of the dear friends I
have made in England."
" Mr. Chung ! " This time the tone was one of unspeak-
able horror.
" Dont speak like that," Chung said quickly. " There
is no use in taking trouble at interest. I may come ta
no harm ; at any rate, it will not matter much to any one
but myself. Now let us go back to tho house. I ought
not to have stopped hero with you so long, and it is nearly
dinner time."
" No," said Effie firmly ; *' we will not go back. I must
understand more about this. There is plenty of timo
before dinner : and if not, dinner must wait."
*' But, Miss Walters, I don't think I ought to have-
brought you out here, and I am (piito sure I ought not to>
stay any longer. Do return. Your Aunt will be annoyed.'*
Mli. cnuNG.
5'J^
"Bother Aunt! She is the host woman in the worhl,
hut I must hear all ahout this. ]\Ir. Cliiint;, why don't
you say you won't go, and stay in Enj^land in spite of
thorn ? "
Nobody ever disobeys Effio, and so Chung wavered
visibly. "I will tell you why," ho answered slowly;
" because I cannot. I am a servant of the Chinese
Government, and if th(\y chooso to recall mo, I must go. "
" ]>ut they couldn't ('uforce their demand."
" Yes, they could. Your Government would give me up."
'• But Mr. Chung, couldn't you run away and hido for a
while, and then come out again, and live like an
Englishman ? "
" No," ho answered quietly ; " it is quite inqiossible.
A Chinaman couldn't get work in England as a clerk or
anything of that sort, and I have nothing of my own to
live upon."
There was a silence of a few minutes. Botli wore
evidently tliinking it out. Effie broke the silence first.
" Oh, IMr Chung, do you think they will really put you
to death ? "
" I don't think it ; I know it."
"You know it?"
" Yes."
Again a silence, and this time Chung broke it first.
" Miss Eflie," he said, " one Chinaman more or less in tho
world does not matter much, and I shall never forgivo
myself for having been led to grieve you for a moment,
even thougli this is the last time I shall be able to speak
to you. But I see you are sorry for jug, and now —
Chinaman as I am, I must speak out — I can't leave you
without having told you all I feel. I am going to a
terrible end, and I know it — so you will forgive mo. Wo
shall never meet again, so what I am going to say need
never cause you any embarrassment in future. That I
am recalled does not much trouble me ; that I am going
40 STRANGE STORIES.
to (lio does not much trouLlo iiie ; but that I can novor,
could never possibly have called you my wife, troubles
mo and cuts mo to the very quick. It is the deepest drop
ill my cup ol' liumiliation."
" 1 kniiw it," said Ellie, "with wcmderful composure.
" You knew it ? "
" Yes, I knew it. I saw it fn)m the second week you
were here ; and 1 liked you for it. liiit of c^ourse it was
iuipossible, so there is nothing more to bo said about it."
*' Of course," said Chung. " Ah, that terrible of course !
I feel it ; you feel it ; we all feel it ; and yet what a
horrible tiling it is. T am so human in everything else,
but there is that one impassable barrier between us, and I
myself eannot fail to rccogni/e it. I could not even wish
you to feel that you could marry a Chinaman."
At that moment — for a moment only — I almost felt as
if I could have said to Eflie, " Take him ! " but the thing
was too impossible — a something within us rises against
it — and I said notliimjf.
" So now,"' Chung continued, " I must go. We must
both go back to the house. I have said more than I
ought to have said, and I am ashamed of myself for
having done so. Yet, in spite of the measureless gulf
that parts us, I felt I. could not return to China without
having told you. Will you forgive me ? "
" I am glad you did," said Efiio ; " it Avill roHcvo you."
She stood a minute irresolute, and then she began
ar»;ain : " Mr. Chung, I am too horrified to know what
T ought to do. I can't grasp it and take it all in so
quickly. If you had money of your own, would you be
able to run away and live somehow ? "
" I might possibly," Chung answered, " but not pro-
bably. A Chinaman, even if he wears European clothing,
is too marked a person ever to escape. The only chance
would be hy going to Mauritius or California, where I
might get lost in the crowd."
i»//.'. CHUNG.
Gl
*']>ut, Mr. riniiip;, T liavo money of my mvn. WliaL
can I do? llcl]) me, tell me. I ean't let a lellow-ercaturo
die for a mere prejiidico of raeo and colour. If I were
your wife it Avould 1)0 yours. Isn't it my dnty?"
"No," s!iid Chunp;. "It is more sncrifu'o than any
woman ou<;lit to make for any man. You like mo, but
that is all."
" If I shut my eyes and only heard you, I thiidc I could
lovo you."
" 3Iiss EfTie,"' f^aid Chuni:^ suddenly, *' this is wron^, very
wronr^* t)f me. 1 have let my weakness overcome me. I
won't stop any longer. I have done what I ought not to
have done, and 1 sliall go this minute. Just once, before
I go, shut your eyes and let mo kiss the tijis of your
fingers. Thank you. No, I will not stop,'' and witliout
another word ho was gone.
Marian and I stared at one another in hlank horror.
"What on earth was to bo done ? All solution were Cfpially
impossible. ]']ven to meet Chung at dinner was terrible.
We both knew in our heart of hearts that if ( 'huno: had
been an Englishman, remaining in heart and soul the very
self-samo man he was, wo would willinglj^ have chosen
him for Efiie's husband. But a Chinaman ! IJeason about
the prejudice as you like, there it is, a thing not to bo got
over, and at liottom so real that even tho very notion
of getting over it is terribly repugnant to our natural
instincts. On the other hand, was poor Chung, with his
line delicate feelings, his courteous manners, his cultivated
intellect, his English chivalry, to go bade among the
savage semi-barbarians of IVkin, and to bo put to deatli
in Heaven knows what inhuman manner for the atrocious
crime of having outstrijiped his race and nation ? The
thing was too awful to contemplate either way.
We walked home together without a word. Chung had
taken the lower path ; we took the upper one and followed
liim at a distance. Effic remained behind for a while in.
62 STRANG I'] STOIIIES.
the siimmor-house. I don't know liow -vvo manaj^ctl to
dress for dinner, but wo did Komeliow ; .'ind when wo went
down into tlio littlo drawins^-room at ei^lit o'clock, wo
Avero not surprised to lioar tliut Miss Efiio Lad a lieadacho
and did not want any dinner that eYcnin<5. I was nioro
surprised, however, when, shortly heforo the j;ong sounded,
one of the servants brought mo a littlo twisted note from
Chung, written hurriedly in pencil, and sent, sho said, by
a porter from tlio railway station. It ran thus : —
"Di:au Mr. Walters,
" Excuse great haste. Compelled to return to
town immediately. Shall write more fully to-morrow.
Just in time to catch up express.
*' Yours ever,
" Chung."
Evidently, instead of returning to tho house, ho had
gone straight to tho station. After all, (-hung had tho
truo feelings of a gentleman. He could not meet Effio
again after what had passed, and he cut tho GoriHan knot
in tho only way possible.
Effic said nothing to us, and we said nothing to Effie,
except to show her Chung's note next morning in a casual,
off-hand fashion. Two days later a note came fur us from
the Embassy in Chung's pretty incisive handwriting. It
contained copious excuses for his hasty departure, and
a few lines to say that he was ordered back to China by
the next mail, which started two days later. IMarian and
I talked it all over, but wo could think of nothing that
could be of any use ; and after all, we said to one another,
poor Chung might be mistaken about tho probable fate
that was in storo for him.
" I don't think," Eftie said, when we showed her the
letter, "I over met such a nice man as Mr. Chung. I
believe he is really a hero." We pretended not to under-
stand what she could mean by it.
mi. cnuxG.
ly.i
Tho tlays -went Ly, and wo went Lack aj^ain to tho dull
rouml of London socioty. Wo heard notliiiiLi; more of
Chung for many weeks ; till at last one morning I found
a letter on the tahlo hearing Iho J long Kong postmark.
J opened it hastily. As 1 supposed, it was a nolo from
Cliung. It was written in a very small hand on a tiny
equaro of rico-paper, and it ran as follows : —
"Tliien-Shun Prison, reldii, Dop. S.
"My dear Friknd,
" Immediately on my return hero I was arrested
on a ehargo of witchcraft, and of complicity witli the
Foreign Devils to introduce the Western barbarism into
China. I have now been in a loathsome prison in I'ekin
for three weeks, in the niidist of sights and sounds wliieli
I daro not describe to you. Already 1 have sutfered more
than I can tell ; and ] have very little doubt that I shall
bo brought to trial and executed witliin a few weeks. I
write now begging j-ou not to let Miss Ellio hear of this,
and if my name happens to bo mentioned in the English
papers, to keep my fato a secret from her jis far jis pos-
sible. 1 trust to chance for the opportunity of getting
this letter forwarded to llong Kong, and I have liad to
write it secretly, for I am not allowed pen, ink, or paper.
Thank you much for your very great kindness to me. I
am not sorry to die, for it is a mistake for a man to have
lived outside tho life of his own ])eoplo, and there was no
place left for mo on earth. Good-bye.
" Ever yours gratefully,
"CiiuNi;."
Tho letter almost drove mo wild with ineffectual remorse
and regret. Why had I not tried to persuade Chung to
remain in England? Why had I not managed to smuggle
him out of the way, and to find him some kind of light
employment, such as even a Chinaman might easily have
01 STRANG n STORIES.
porformctl? But it was no uso regretting now. Tlie
impassablo gulf was fixed between us ; and it was hardily
possible oven then to realize that this amiable young
student, A'ersed in all the science and philosophy of tho
nincteentli century, liad l)een hanilod over alive to tho
tender mercies of a worse than mediaeval barbarism aTid
superstition. My heart sank within me, and I did not
venture to show tho letter even to Marian.
For some weeks tho days passed heavily indeed. I
could not get Chung out of my mind, and I saw that
Effie could not cither. Wo never mentioned his name ;
bat I noticed that Effie had got from jMudie's all tho books
ivbout Cliina that she could hear of, and that she was
roadiJig '.ip Yk'ith a sort of awful interest all the chapters
that related to Chinese law and Chinese criminal punish-
ments. Poor child, the subject evidently enthralled her
with a terrible fascination ; and I feared that tho cxcito-
;ii5-nt she v/as in might bring on a brain fever.
Ojio morning, earl}'- in April, wo were all seated in tho
little Tjveakfast-room about ten o'clock, and Efliehad taken
-p the outside sheet of tho Times, while I was engaged
in looking over tho telegrams on the central pages.
Suddenly she gave a cry of horror, flung down tho paper
Avith a gesture of awful repugnance, and fell from her
chair as stiff and white as a corpse. I knew instinctiv^dy
•what had happened, and I took her up in my arms and
carried her to her room. After tho doctor had come,
and Effie had rvocovered a little from tho first shock, I
took up the paper from the ground where it lay and read
tho curt little paragraph which contained the news that
ecemcd to us so terrible : — ,
" Tho numerous persons who made the acquaintance of
Chung Fo Tsiou, lato assistant interpreter to the Chincso
Embassy in London, will learn with regret that this
unfortunate member of the Civil Service has been accused
of witchcraft and executed at Pekin by the frightful
MR. ciTUX^' c:.
Chinese mctliod known as tlio Ilv .. j Death. Chung Fo
Tsiou -was well known in London and Paris, where he
spent many years of liis onii.ial life, and attracted some
attention hy liis natural inclination to European society
and manners."
Pour Cliutig! iris end was too horrible for an Enj^lish
reader even to iioar of it. Put Efiie knew it all, and I did
not wonder tliat the news should have affected her so
deejily.
Efiie was some -weeks ill, and at fust wo almost feared
her mind would give way under the pressure. Not that
slic had more than merely liked poor Chunii;, hut the sense
of horror was too great for her (easily to cast it off. Even
I myself did not sleep lightly for many and many a day
after I heard the terrilde trutli. Put Avliilo Effic was still
ill, a second letter reached ns, Avritten this time in blood
with a i)ieco of stick, apparently on a scrap of coarse
English paper, such as tliat wdiich is nsed for w'rapping
up tobacco. It was no more than this : —
"Execntion to-day. Keep it froni ]\[iss EfQe. Cannot
forgive myself for luiving spoken to her. Will you forgive
me? It was the weakness of a moment: but even Chinamen
have hearts. I could not die without telling her. — Ciiunc."
I showed Effie the scrap afterwards — it had come with-
out a line of explanation from Slianghao — and she has
kept it ever since lockcnl up in her little desk as a sacred
memento. T don't doul)t that some of tlieso days Effie will
marry ; but as long as she lives she will bear the impress
of what she lias suffered about poor Chung. An English
girl could not conceivably marry a Chinaman ; but now
that Chung is do;id, Ellio cannot help admiring the stead-
fastness, the bravery, and the noble (jualities of her Chinese
lover. It is an awful state of things which sometimes
brings the nineteenth century and primitive barbarism
into such close and horrible juxtaposition.
F
THE CURATE OF CITURNSIDE.
\\'alti:ii 1)i:xi:, deacon, in liis fanltless Oxford clerical coat
and Lroad felt hat, strolled along slowly, sunning himself
as he went, after his wont, down the pretty central lane
of AVest Churnside. It was just the idyllic village Lest
suited to the tasto of such an idyllic young curate as
Walter Dene. There were cottages with low-thatched roofs,
thickly overgrown with yellow stonecrop and pink house-
leek ; there were trellis-work porclies up which the scented
dog-rose and the fainter honeysuckle clambered together
in sisterly rivalry; there were pargeted gable-ends of
1:1 i/.abe than farmhouses, quaintly varied with black oak
joists and moulded plaster panels. At the end of all,
between an avenue of ancient eliu trees, the heavy
square tower of the old church closed in the little vista —
a church with a round Norman doorway and dog-tooth
arches, melting into Early English lancets in the aisle,
and finishing up with a great Decorated east window by
the broken cross and yew tree. Not a trace of Perpendi-
cularity about it anywhere, thank goodness : " for if it
were rerpendicular," said Walter Dene to himself often,
" I really think, in spite of my uncle, I shor'' ■" have to look
out for another curacy."
Yes, it was a charming village, and a charming country;
but, above all, it was rendered habitable and pleasurable
for a man of taste by the informing presence of Christina
THE CURATE OF ClIUnXSIDi:. C7
Eliot. " I don't tliiiik I shall i)roposo to Clivistina this
week uftor all," thong] it A\'altcr Dcno as ho strolled along
lazily. ''The most dulightfiil part of h)vc-inaking is
certainly its first beginning. Th(3 littlo tremor of hope
and expectation ; the half-needless donht you feel as to
Avhether she really loves you; the pains you talco to picrct'
the thin A'cil of maidenly reserve ; ho triumph of detecting
Jier at a blush or a ilutter Avhcn she sees you coming — all
these aro delicate little morsels to ho rolled daintil}' on tho
critical palate, and not to ho swallowed down coarsely at
one vulgar gulp. Toor child, she is on tenter-h(joks of
hesitation and expectancy all tho time, I know; for I'm
sure sho loves mo now, I'm sure sho loves mo ; hut T must
wait a week j^et : she will bo grateful to mo fur it here-
ai'ter. "We mustn't Icill tho goose that lays the golden
eggs ; we mustn't eat up all our capital at one extravagant
feast, and tlnm lament the want of our interest ever
afterward. Let us live another week in our first fool's
paradise bcforo wo enter on tho safer but less tremulous
pleasures of sure possession. We can enjoy first love but
once in a lifetime ; let us enjoy it now while we can, and
not fling away tho chance prematurely by mere childish
haste and girlish precipitancy.** Thinking which thing,
AValter JJeno halted a moment liy tho churchyard wall,
picked a long spray of scented wild thyme from a mossy
cranny, and gazed into tho blue sky above at the graceful
swifts who nested in the old tower, as tliey curved and
circled through the yielding air on their evenly poised
and powerful pinions.
Just at that moment old Mary Ijong came out of her
cottage to speak with the young parson. " If ye plazc,
Maister Dene," she said in licr native west-country dialect,
"our Nully would like to zee 'ee. She's main ill to-day,
zur, and sho be like to die a'most, I'm thinldnu'."
"Poor child, poor child," said Walter Deno tender]}-.
" {She's a dear little thing, Mrs. Long, is your Nellie, and I
C8 STRANai: STORIES.
liopo .sliomny yd he spared to you. I'll coino and sco licr
at onco, and try if I can do anythinji; to case her."
He crossed tlic road compassionately with the tottering
old grandmother, giving; her his helping hand over the
herhstonc, and iul lowing her with hated breath into the
close little sick-room. Then he ilnng ope7i the tiny case-
ment with its diamond-leaded panes, so as to let in the
fresh snmmer air, and picked a few sprigs of sweet-briar
from the porch, which he joined with the geranium from
his own hutton-holo to make a tiny nosogaj' for the bare
bedside. After that, he sat and talked awhile gently in an
undertone to pale. ])rctty little Nellie herself, and went
away at last promising to send her some jelly and some
soup immediately from the vicarage kitchen.
" She's a sweet little child," ho sai-l to himself musincrly,
" thougli I'm af]'aid she's not long for this world now ;
and the poor liko these small attentions dearly. They
get them seldom, and value them for tlie sake of the
thoughtfulness they imply, rather than for the sake of the
mere things themselves. 1 can order a bottle of calf's-foot
at the grocers, and Carter can set it in a mould witliout
any trouble ; while as for the soup, some tinned mock-
turtle and a little fi'esh stock makes a really capital
mixture for this sort of thing. It costs so little to give
these poor so.uls pleasure, and it is a great luxury' to
oneself undeniabl}'. But, after all, what a funny trade
it is to set an educated man to do ! They send us up
to Oxford or Cambridge, give r.s a distinct taste for
^Eschylus and Catullus, Dante ai d 3Iilton, Mendelssohn
and (Uiopin, good claret and olires fmrJes, and then bring
us down to a country village, to look after the bodily and
spiritual ailments of rheumatic old washerwomen ! If it
wcro not for poetry, flowers, and Christina, I really think
I should succumb enth'ely under the infliction."
" lie's a dear, good man, that he is, is young passon,"
murmured old i\I;iry Long as "Walter disappeared between
Tin: ci:uATi: of ciiunxsw::. ca
ilio clni trees ; " and ho do love tlie poor and tlic ziclc, tlio
same as if he was their own hrother. God 1 less his zoul,
the dear, good vuUa, vor all his kindness to our Nully."
Halfway down the main lane AValter came across
(.'hristina Eliot. As she saw liiui she smiled and coloured
a little, and held cmt her small ;;lovcd hand prettily.
AValter took it with a certain courtly and graceful
fhivahy. "An exquisite day, Miss Eliot," he said ; "such
a depth of sapphire in the sky, sucli a faint undertone of
green on the clouds by the horizon, such a lovely liuunning
of Lees over the flickering hot meadows ! On days like this,
one feels that Schopenhauer is wrong after all, and that
life is sometimes really worth living,"
"It seems to me often wortli living," Christina
answered; "if not for oneself, at least for others. Eut
you pretend to bo more of a })essimist than you really are,
.1 fancy, Mr. Dene. Any one Avho finds so much liuauty in
the world as you do can hardly think life po(jr or meagre.
You seem to catch the loveliest points in everything you
look at, and to throw a little literary or artistic reflection
over them which niakes them even lovelier than they arc
in themselves."
"AVell, no doubt one can increase one's possibilities of
enjoyment by carefully cultivating one's own faculties of
admiration and appreciation," said the curate thought-
fully; "but, after all, lift,' has only a few ohai)ters that
are thoroughly interesting and enthralling in all its
Jiistory. Wo oughtn't to hurry over them too lightly,
Miss Eliot ; we ought to linger on tliom lovingly", and
make the most of their potentialities; wo ought to dwell
upon them like " linked sweetness long drawn out." It is
the mistake of the world at large to hurry too rapidly over
the plcasiantest episodes, just as children pick all the
plums at onco out of the pudding. I often think that,
from the jjurdy selfish and temporal point of view, tlio
real value of a life to its subject may bo measured by the
70 SmANGE STOJlIh'S.
cipacc of tliiio over which he has managed to spread the-
onjoyinont of its greatest pleasures. Look, for examph',
at poetry, now."
A faint shade of disappointniorit passed across Chris-
tina's face as he turned from what seemed another groove
into that indifferent suhjeet ; but sh.c answered at once,
" Yes, of course one feeh; that witli the higher pleasures at
least; hut there are others in whicli the interest of plot is
greater, and then one looks naturally rather to the end.
When you hegin a good novel, yon can't help hurrying
througli it in order to find out what Lecomes of everybody
at last."
" Ah, but the highest artistic interest goes l)eyond mero
plot interest. I like rather to read for tlie pleasure
of reading, and to loiter over the passages that please me,
quite irrespective of what goes before or what comes after ;
just as you, for your part, like to sketch a beautiful scene
for its own worth to you, irrespective of what may happen
to the leaves in autumn, or to the cottage roof in twenty
years from this. By the way, have you finished that little
water-colour of the mill yet? It's the iirettiest thing of
3'ours I've ever seen, and I ■want to look how you'vo
managed the light on your foreground."
"Come in and see it," said Christina. "It's finished
now, and, to tell you the truth, I'm very well pleased with
it myself."
" Then I know it must be good," the curate answered ;
" for you are always your own harshest critic." And ho
turned in at the little gate with her, and entered the
village doctor's tiny drawing-room.
Christina placed the sketch on an easel near the window
— a low Avindow opening to the ground, with long lithe
festoons of faint-scented jasmine encroaching on it from
outside — and let the light fall on it aslant in the right
direction. It was a pretty and a clever sketch certainly,
with more than a mero amateur's sense of form and colour ;
THE run AT i: of cnvRXSinj:. 71
and Walter Dene, Avho had a tnio eye for pictures, conlil
conscientiouisly praise it fur its artistic depth and fnlnes"^.
Indeed, on that head at least, Walter J)ene'ri veracity
■was uninipeachal)lc, however lax in otlier matters;
nothing on earth would have induced him to praise as
good a picture or a sculpture iu which ho saw no real
merit, lie sat a little while criticizing and discrssing it,
suggesting an imi)rovement hero or an alteration there,
and then he rose hurriedly, rememhering all at once liis
forgotten promise to little Nellie. "Dear me," ho said,
" your daughter's picture has almost made me overlook
my proper duties, Mrs. Eliot. I promis(Hl to send some
jcll}^ and things at once to poor little Nellie Long at her
grandmother's. ITovv very wrong of me to let my natural
inclinations keep mo loitering here, when I ought to have
been thinking of the poor of my parish ! " And he went
out with just a gentle pressure on CJiristina's hand, and a
look from his eyes that her heart knew how to read ailght,
at the first glance of it.
" Do you know, Cliristle," said her father, " I sometimes
fancy when I hear that, new parson fellow tulk about his
artistic feelings, and so on, that he"s just atrillc selfish, or
at least self-centred. He always dwells so much on his
own enjojnnent of things, you know."
" Oh no, papa," cried Christina warmly. " He's any-
thing but selfish, I'm sure.' Look how kind he is to all
the poor in the village, and how much he thinks about
their comfort and welfare. And whenever he's talking
with one, ho seems so anxious to make you feel happy and
contented with vourself. He has a sort of little subtle
flattery of manner about him that's all puro kindliness ;
and he's always thinking what he can say or do to plea>o
you, and to help you onward AVhat you say about his
dwelling on enjoyment so much is really only his artistic
sensibilit}'. He feels things so keenly, and enjoys beauty
so deeply, that he can't help talking enthusiastically about
72 STIiANGi: STORIES.
it even a little out of season. Ho has more feelings to
dis[)liiy tliau most men, and I'm sure tlial's the reason
wliy lie (li.si)l;iyH tlieiti so niueli. A i)longliooy could (jnly
talk entliusiaslieally al)ont roast Leef and dumplings;
Mr. Done can talk ahout everything that's Leautii'ul and
sublime on earth or in heaven."
Meanwhile, Walter Dene \vas walking (piiokly with his
measured tread — the even, regular tread of a cultivated
gentleman — down the luno toward the village grocer's,
saying to himself as ho went, " There was never sueh a
girl in all the M'orld as my Christina. She may ho only
a country surgeon's daughter — a rosehud on a hedgerow
Lush — hut she has the soul and the oyo of a (|ueen among
women for all that. Every lover lias deceived himself
with the same sweet dream, to he sure — how over-analytic
■we have become nowadays, when I must needs half argue
mj'self out of the sweets of first love ! — but then they
liadn't so much to go upon as I have. She has a wonderful
touch in music, she lias an exquisite eye in painting, ahe
has an Italian charm in manner and conversation. I'm
something of a connoisseur, after all, and no more likely
to bo deceived in a woman than I am in a wino or a
picture. And next week 1 shall really propose formally
to Christina, though I know by this time it will bo
nothing more than the merest formality. Iler eyes arc
too eloquent not to have told me that long ago. It will
bo a delightful pleasure to live for her, and in order to
make her ha])py. I frankly recognize that I am naturally
a little selfish — not coai'sely and vulgarly selfish ; from that
disgusting and piggish vice I may conscientiously con-
gratulate myself that I'm fairly free ; but still selfish in a
refined and cultivated manner. Now, living with Chris-
tina and for Christina will correct this defect in my
nature, will tend to bring me nearer to a true standard of
perfection. When I am by her side, and then only, I feel
that I am thinking entirely of her. and not at all of
THE CUUATi: OF (JllUUSSlUE. 73
mysolf. To her I sliou- my Lost sulo ; witli l.or, tliat best
side would Lo always uppermost. The companiousliip of
such a woman makes life something purer, and hin;her,
and Letter worth havin- The one thing that stands iii.
<mr way is this horrid practical question of what to live
upon. I don't suppose Uncle Arthur will be inclined to
allow mo anythir>g, and I can't marry on my own paltry
income and my curacy only. Yet I can't bear to keep
Clnistnia waiting indefinitely till some thick-headed
squire or other chooses to take it into his opaque brain to
'i;ivo mo a decent liviii<'*.*'
From the grocer's the curate walked on, carrying the
two tins in his hand, as far as the vicarage. He went
•Jiito the library, sat down by his own desk, and rang the
bell. " AVill you bo kind enough to give those things to
Carter, John ?" ho said in his l)]and voice ; " and tell her
to put the jelly in a mould, and let it set. The soup must
be warmed with a little fresh stock, and seasoned. Then
take them both, witli my compliments, to old Mary Long
the washerwt)man, for her grandchild. Is my uncle in ? ''
"No, Master Walter," answered the man — ho was
always "Master Walter" to the old servants at his
uncle's — " the vicar have gone over by train to Chtir-
minster. Ho told me to tell you he wouldn't bo back till
evening, after dinner."
" Did you see him off, John ? "
"Yes, Master "Walter. I took his portmantevv to the
station."
"This will be a good chance, then," thought Walter
Dene to himself. " Very well, John," ho went on aloud :
"I shall Avrite my sermon now. Don't let anybody
come to disturb uio."
John nodded and withdrew. AValtcr Dene locked the
door after him carefully, as ho often did when writing
sermons, and then lit a cigar, which was also a not in-
frequent concomitant of his exegotical labours. After
71 STItAXar: SIOUTEfi.
that lio walkod onco 'or twico \\\) and down the room,
pansed a moment to look at his parchment-covered IJaLelais
and Villon on tlio l)Ookslieir, peered out of tlio dulled
L;lass windows with the crt'st in their centre, and finallj'
drew a curious bent iron iiistrument out of his waistcoat
pocket. AV'^ith it in his hands, ho went np (piietly to his
nncle's desk, and hegan fuud)linf^ at the lock in an ex-
perienced manner. As a matter of fact, it was not his
iirst trial of skill in lock-pickin<; ; for ^\'alter Dcno was a
jiainstakiu!^ and methodical man, and haviuo- made np his
mind that ho would i^et at and read his nude's will, ho
took good caro to begin by fastening all the drawers in
his own bedroom, and trying his prenfico hand at uu-
fastouing them again in the solitude of his chamber.
After half a minute's twisting and turning, the wards
gave way gently to his dexterous pressure, and tho lid of
the desk lay open before him. AValter Dene took out the
diderent papers ono by one — there was no need for hurry,
and ho was not a nervous person — till he camo to a roll of
parchment, which ho recognized at onco as tho expected
will, lie unroUel it carefully and qnietl}', without any
womanish trembling or excitement — "thank Heaven," Ik*
said to himself, '"I'm a1)ovo such nonscnso as that" — and
sat tlown leisurely to read it in the big, low, velvet-covered
study chair. As ho did so, he did not foiget to lay a
notched foot- rest for his feet, and to put the little Jajianeso
dish on tho tiny table by his side to hold his cigar ash.
*' And now," ho said, " for the important (piestion wliethor
Undo Arthur has left his money to me, or to Arthur, or
to both of us equally. lie ought, of course, to leave at
least half to me, seeing I have become a curato on purpose
to pleaso him, instead of following my natural vocation to
the liar ; but I shouldn't be a bit surprised if he had left
it all to Arthur. He's a pig-headed and illogical old man,
tho vicar ; and he can never forgive me, I believe, because,
being tho eldest son, I wasn't called after him by my
THE nun ATI: of CHUILSSIDE. y^y
fatlicr and motlier. As if fl.at .vas my fanlf ' Soinr
people's „loas oi-persMnal responsibility aro so riclicnlously
IIo composoa lii.uself quietly in Iho an.iclmir, ami
f^^lancea rapidly at the will tliron-h the moanin-less pre-
liminaries till he came to the si-nidcant clauses. These
he rea.l more carefully. - All my estate in tho county of
Dfjrsct, and the messna,ojo or tenement known as Hedlands
m the parish of Lode, in the county of Devon, to my dear
nephew, Arthur Dene," ho said to himself slowly • "Oh
this will never do." - And I give and l.eqneath to my said'
nephew, Artlnir Dene, the sum of ten thousand poun^^s
three per cent, consolidated annuities, now standino- in
my name "-"Oh tliis is atrocious, .piito atrocious!
What's this?" "And I give and bequeath to my dear
nejihew, AV;iltcr Dene, the residue of my personal estate"—
"and so fortli. Oh no. ^i'hat's quite sufficient. This
mnst bo rectified. Tho residuary legatee would only
come in for a ^qw hundreds or so. It's cpiito preposterous.
Tho vicar was always an ill-tempered, cantankerous, un-
accountable person, but I wonder ho has tho face to sit
opposite mo at dinner after that."
lie hnmmed an air from Sclinbert, and sat a moment
looking thoughtfully at tho will. Then he said to himself
qnietly, " The simplest thing to do would be merely to
scrape out or tako out wifh chemicals the name Arthur,
substituting tho name Walter, and vice vm-m. That's a
very small matter; a man who draws as well as I do
ought to be able easily to imitate a copying clerk's en-
grossing hand. But it would be madness to attempt it
now and here ; I Avant a little practice first. At tho same
time, I mustn't keep the will out a moment longer than is
necessary ;^ my uncle may return by some accident before
I expect him ; and tho true philosophy of life consists in
invariably minimizing the adverse chances. This will
was evidently drawn up by Watson and Blenkiron, of
70 STIIANGE STORIES.
Chancery Lane. I'll write to-morrow and got them to
draw up a will for me, leaving all I possess to Artliur.
The same clerk is pretty sure to engross it, and that'll
give mo a moilel for the two names on which I can do a
little preliminary practice. Besides, I can try the stuff
Wharton told me ahout, for luaking ink fade on the same
parchment. Tliat will he killing two birds with one
stone, certainly. And now if I dtm't make haste I shan't
have time to write my sermon."'
lie replaced the will calmly in the desk, fastened the
lock again with a delicate twirl of the pick, and sat down
in his armchair to compose his discourse for to-morrow's
evensong. " It's not a bad bit of rhetoric," ho said to
himself as ho read it over for correction, " but I'm not
sure that I haven't plagiarized a little too freely from
Montaigne and dear old Burton. What a pity it must be
thrown away upon a Churnside congregation ! Not a
soul in the whole place will appreciate a word of it, except
(,'hristina. Well, well, that aloiio is enough reward for
any man." And he knocked off his ash pensively into the
Japanese ash-pan.
During the course of the next week Walter practised
diligently the art of imitating handwriting. lie got his
will drawn up and engrossed at Watson and Blenkiron's
(without signing it, bien cntcndu) ; and he spent manj'
solitary hours in writing the two names " Walter " and
" Arthur " on the spare end of parchment, after the
manner of the engrossing clerk. lie also tested the stuff"
for making the ink fade to his own perfect satisfaction.
And on the next occasion when his uncle was safely off
the premises for three hours, he took the will once nioro
deliberately from the desk, removed the obnoxious letters
with hcrupulous care, and wrote in his own name in place
of Arthur's, so that even tho engrossing clerk himself
would hardly have known tho difterenco. " There," ho
said to himself approvingly, as ho took down quiet old
THE CURAT i: OF CIIVIINSIDE. 77
Gcorp;o ITerliort from tho shelf and sat down to enjoy an
lionr'.s snioko uftov tho bnsiiiess was over, " that's ono f2;uod
deed well done, anyhow. I have tho calm satiKfacti(jn of
a clear conscience. Tho vicar's proposed arrangement was
really most unfair ; I have substituted for it what Aristotle
would havo rio;htlv called true distributive iustico. For
though I've left all tho property to myself, by tho un-
fortunate necessity of tho case, of course I won't take it
all. I'll bo juster than tho vicar. Arthur shall have his
fair share, which is more, I believe, than lic'd havo done
for mo ; but I hate squalid money-grubl>ing. If brothers
can't bo generous and T)rotherly to one another, what
a wretched, sordid littlo life tin's of ours would really
be!"
Next Sunday morning tho vicar preached, and Walter
sat looking up at him reflectively from his place in tho
chancel. A beautiful clear-cut face, tho curate's, and seen
to great advantage from tho doctor's pew, set off by tho
white surplice, and upturned in quiet meditation towards
tho elder priest in tho pulpit. Walter was revolving
many things in his mind, and most of all one adverse
chance which ho could not just then sec his way to mini-
mize. Any day his undo might take it into his head to
read over the will and discover the — ah, well, the recti-
fication. AValter was a man of too much delicacy of
feeling even to think of it to himself as a fraud or a for-
gery. Then, again, tho vicar was not a very old man
after all ; bo might livo for an indefinite jieriod, and
Christina and himself might loso all tho best years of
their life waiting for a useless person's natural reni.oval.
"What a pity that tlireescoro was not tho utmost limit of
human life ! For his own part, like tho Psalmist, "Walter
had no dosiro to outlive his own highest tastes and
powers of enjoyment. Ah, well, well, man's prerogative
is to bettor and improve upon nature. If peopio do not
die when they ought, then it becomes clearly necessary
78 STRANCE STOIilES.
for pliilosopliically minded juniors to help tliem on tlieir
"way artificially.
It was an ugly necessity, certainly; AValter frankly
recognized that fact from the very beginning, and ho shrank
even from contemplating it; hut there was no other way
out of the didficulty. The old man had always heon
a selfish hacheh)r, with no lovo for anybody or anything
on earth except his books, his coins, his garden, and his
dinner; lie was growing tired of all except the last;
would it not bo better for the world at hirge, on strict
utilitarian principles, that he should go at once? True,
such steps are usually to bo deprecated ; but the wiso
man is a law unto himself, and instead of laying down
the W(joden, hard-and-fast lines that make conventional
morality so much a rule of thumb, he judges every indi-
vidual case on its own particular merits. Here was
Christina's ha[)piness and his own on the one hand, with
many collateral advantages to other people, set in the
scale against the feeble remnant of a selfish old man's
days on the other. Walter Dean had a constituti(mal
horror of taking life in any form, and especially of shed-
ding blood; but ho flattered himself that if anything of
the sort became clearly necessarj-, ho was not the man to
shrink from taking the needful measures to ensure it, at
any sacrifice of personal comfort.
All through the next week Walter turned over tho
subject in his own mind ; and the more ho thought about
it, tho more the plan gained in defiiiitoncssand consistency
as detail after detail suggested itself to him. First ho
thought of poison. That was tho cleanest and neatest
way of managing tho thing, ho considered; and it in-
volved the least unpleasant consequences. To stick a
knife (u- shoot a bullet into any sentient creature was a
horrid and revolting act ; to put a little tasteless powder
into a cup of coffee and let a man sleep oif his life quietly
was really nothing more than helping hiiu involuntarily
THE cm ATE OF CIIUJiNSIDE. 70
to a deliglit Till ciitliaiiasia. " I vish any one voiiltl ilo as
much fur mo at his age, -witlioiit telliii<; mo ahoiit it,"
"Walter saiil to himself seriously. V>\\t then tho chances
of detection \voukl bo much increased by usini; poison,
and "Walter felt it an imperative duty to do nothin<; which
Avonld expose Christina to tho shock of a discover}'. Sho
would not SCO tho matter in tho same practical light as ho
did; women never do; their morality is purely conven-
tional, and a "wiso man will do nt)thing on earth to shake
it. You cannot buy poison without tho risk of exciting
question. Thero remained, then, only shooting or stab-
bing. But shooting makes an awkward noise, and attracts
attention at the moment ; so the ono thing possible was a
knife, unpleasant as that conclusion seemed to all his
moro delicate feelings.
Having thus decided, "Wilter Dene proceeded to lay his
plans with delibcrato caution, llo had no intention what-
soever of being detected, though his method of action was
simplicity itself. It was only bunglers and clumsy fools
who got caught ; ho knew that a man of his intelligence
and ability would not make %uch an idiot of himself as —
well, as common ruffians always do. Ho took his (dd
American bowie-knife, bought years ago as a curiosity, out
of the drawer where it had lain so long. It was very rusty,
l)ut it would bo safer to sharpen it, privately on his own
bono and strop than to go asking for a new knife at a shoj)
fur the express ])urposo of enabling tlie sho])mau after-
wards to identify him. lie sharpened it for safety's sake
during sermon-hour in tho library, witli tho door locked
as usual. It took a long time to get off all the rust, and
his arm got quickly tired. Ono morning as he was polish-
ing away at it, he was stopped for a moment by a butterfly
which flapped and fluttered against the dulled window-
panes. " Poor thing," ho said to himself, " it will beat
its feathery wings to pieces in its struggles ; " and ho
put a vaso of Venetian glass on top of it, lifted the sash
80 STRANGE STOIilES.
Ciiro fully, and let the creatnro fly away oiiisMe in the
broad sinisliino. At tho same moment tlio vicar, who was
.str(dlin<5 with his Kinj; (Jharlio on tho lawn, came up and
looked in at tho window. Ifo coidd not havo seen in
"before, because of tho dulled and painted diamonds.
"That's a murderous-looking weapon, "Wally," ho saitl,
with a smile, as his glance fell upon tho Lowic and hone.
" What do you uso it for?"
"Oh, it's an American liowie," "Waller answered care-
lessly. " I hought it long ago for a curiosity, and now
I'm sharpening it up to help me in carving that block of
walnut wood." And ho ran his finger lightly along tho
edge of the blade to test its keenness. AVhat a lucky thing
that it was tho vicar himself, and not tho gardener! If
ho had been caught by anybody else tho fact would havo
been fatal evidence after all was over. " ]\Ie(iez-vous des
papillons," ho hummed to himself, after Beranger, as he
shut down the window. " One more butterfly, and I must
give up tho game as useless."
Meanwhile, as AValtcr meant to make a clean job of it —
hacking and hewing clumsily was repulsive to all his finer
feelings — ho began also to study carefully the anatomy of
the human back. lie took down all tho books on tho sub-
ject in the library, and by their aid discovered exaclly
under which ribs the heart lay. A little observation of
the vicar, compared with tho plates in Quain's " Anatomy,"
showed him precisely at what point in his clerical coat tho
most vulnerable interstice was situated. " It's a horrid
thing to havo to do," ho thought over and over again as
ho planned it, " but it's tho only way to secure Christina's
happiness." And so, by a certain bright Friday evening
in August, "Walter Deno had fully comxdeted all his pre-
parations.
That afternoon as on all bright afternoons in summer,
tho vicar went for a walk in tho grounds, attended only
by little King Charlie. He was squire and parson at once
TIIE cm ATE OF CUV UN SIDE. 81
in Clmrnsicle, and ho loved to nialco tho round of liis own
estate. At a certain j;ato by Solljury Copso the vicar always
baited to rest awhile, leaning on tho bar and looking at
tho view across tho valley. It was a safe and lonely spot.
Walter remained at home (\\q was to tako tho regular
Friday evensong) and went into tho study by himself.
After a while ho took his hat, not witliont tremblinir,
strolled across the garden, and then made tho short cut.
through tho copse, so as to meet tho vicar by tho gate. On
his way ho heard the noiso of tho Dennings in tho farm
opposite, out rabbit-shooting with their guns and ferrets
in tho warren. His very soul shrank within him at tho
sound of that brutal sport. " Great heavens ! " he said to
himself, Avith a shudder ; " to think how I loathe and
shrink from tho necessity of almost painlessly killing this
one selfish old man for an obviously good reason, and
those creatures thcro will go out massacring innocent
animals with the aid of a hideous beast of prey, not only
Avithout remorse, but actually by way of amusement ! J
thank Heaven I am not oven as they are." Near tho gate
he camo upon his uncle quietly and naturally, though it
would be absurd to deny that at that supremo moment
even Walter Dene's equable heart throbbed hard, and his
breath w-ent and came tremulously. " Alone," he thought
to himself, " and nobody near ; this is quite providential,"
using oven then, in thought, tho familiar phraseology of
his profession.
*• A lovely afternoon. Uncle Arthur," he said as com-
posedly as he could, accurately measuring the spot on tho
vicar's coat with his eye meanwhile. " The valley looks
beautiful in this light."
" Yes, a lovely afternoon, Wally, my boy, and an ex-
(piisite glimpse down yonder into tho churchyard."
As he spoke, Walter half leaned upon tho gate besido
him, and adjusted the knife behind the vicar's back scienti-
fically. Then, without a word more, in spite of a natural
82 STILINGE STOTiTn>!.
shiinkinf^, lio drovo it homo up to tlio haft, with a terrihlo
effort (if will, at the exact spot on the Lack that the books
liad pointcil out to him. It was a painful thine; to do, but
he did it carefully and well. The effect of Walter IJcno's
scientific previHion was even more instantaneous than ho
had anticipated. Without a single cry, without a sob or
11 contortion, the vicar's lifeless body fell over heavily by
the side of the gate. It rulled down like a log into tho
dry ditch beneath. Walter knelt trembling on the ground
close by, felt the pulse for a moment to assure himself that
his uncle was really dead, and having fully satisfied him-
self on this all-important point, proceeded to draw tho
knife neatly out of tho wound, lie had let it fall in tho
body, in order to extricate it more easily afterward, and
not risk pulling it out carelessly so as to get himself
covered needlessly by tell-tale drops of blood, like ordinary
clumsy assassins. Ihit ho had forgotten to reckon with
little King Charlie. The dog jumped piteously upon tho
body of his master, licked the wound with his tongue, and
refused to allow "Walter to withdraw the knife. It would
bo unsafe to leave it thero, for it might be recognized.
" Minimize tho adverse chances," ho muttered still ; but
thero was no inducing King Charlio to move. A strugglo
might result in getting drops of blood upon his coat, and
then, great heavens, what a terrible awakening for Chris-
tina ! "Oh, Christina, Christina, Christina," ho siid to
himself piteously, " it is for you only that I could ever
have ventured to do this hideous thing." Tho blood was
still oozing out of tho narrow slit, and saturating tho
black coat, and Walter Deno with his delicate nerves could
hardly bear to look upon it.
At last he summoned up resolution to draw out the knife
from the ugly wound, in spite of King Charlie, and as ho
did so, oh, horror ! the little dog jumped at it, and cut his
left fore-leg against the sharp edge deep to tho bone. Here
was a pretty accident indeed ! If Walter Dene had been
THE CURATE OF CUUIINSIDE. 83
a common heartless murderer ho would have .snatched nj)
the knifo immediately, loft the poor lamo dojjj to watcli
and hleed beside his dead master, and skulked ofT hurriedly
from tho muto witness to his accomplished crime. But
Walter was mado of very dillbrent mould from that ; ho
could not lind it in his heart to leave a poor dumb animal
wounded and bleeding for hours together, alone and im-
tendcd. Just at first, indeed, ho tried sophistically to
persuado himself his duty to Christina demanded that ho
should go away at once, and never mind tho .suderings of
a mere spaniel ; but his bettor nature told him the next
moment that such sophisms were indefensible, and his
humane instincts overcame even tho profound instinct of
self preservation. lie sat down quietly beside tho warm
corpse. "Thank goodness," ho said, with a .slight shiver
of di.sgust, " I'm not one of those weak-minded jicoplc who
are troubled by remorse. They would bo so overcome by
terror at what they had done that they would want to run
away from tho body immediately, at any price. But I
don't think I could feel remorse. It is an incident of lower
natures — natures that are capable of doing actions under
one set of impulses, which they regret when another set
comes uppermost in turn. That implies a want of balance,
an imperfect co-ordination of parts and passions. Tho
perfect character is consistent with itself; shame and
repentance are confessions of weakness. For my part, I
never do anything without having first deliberately decided
that it is the best or the only thing to do ; and having so
done it, I do not draw back like a girl from the necessary
consequences of my own act. No fluttering or running
away for me. Still, I must admit that all that blood does
look very ghastly. Poor old gentleman ! I believe he
really died almost without knowing it, and that is certainly
a great comfort to one under the circumstances."
He took King Charlie tenderly in his hands, without
touching the wounded leg, and drew his pocket hand-
84 STIiAXCE STORIES.
Iccrcliicf Koflly frDin lii.s pocket. "Poor licaslic," lie s.'iid
aloud, holding- out tho cut linil) before hiui, "you are
badly Jiurl, I'm alVa'ul ; but it wasn't my fault. Wo must
see what wo can do for you." Then ho wrapped tho
handkerchief dcfily around it, Avitliout letting any blood
show throuf^h, pressed tho dog closo against his breast,
and i)icked up tho knifo gingerly by the reeking handle.
*' A fool of a fellow Avould throw it into tho river," ho
thought, with a curl of his graceful lip. " They always
dredge the river after these incidents. I shall just stick
it down a hole in tho hed<i-o a liundred yards oil'. Tho
police have no inA'ention,dull dov.kcys ; they never dredge
tho hedges." And ho tlirust it well down a disused rabbit
burrow, tilling in tho top neatly with loose mould.
AValter Ueno meant to have gone homo quietly and said
evensong, leaving tho discovery of tho body to bo made at
haphazard by others, but this unfortunate accident to King
Charlio compelled him against his will to give the first
alarm. It was absolutely necessary to take the dog to tho
veterinary at once, or tho poor littlo fellow might bleed to
death incontinently. " One's best efforts," ho thought,
*'aro always liable to these unfortunate contretcmjjs. I
meant mi^rely to remove a superfluous person from an
uncongenial environment ; yet I can't manage it without
at the same time seriously injuring a harmless little crea-
ture that I really love." And with one last glance at tho
lifeless thing behind him, ho took his way regretfully along
the ordinary path back towards tho peaceful village of
Churnsidc.
ITalfway down tho lane, at the entrance to tho village,
he met one of his parishioners. " Tom," ho said boldly,
" have you seen anything of the vicar ? I'm afraid he's
got hurt somehow. Here's poor little King Charlio como
limping back with his leg cut."
"Ho went down tho road, 7,ur, 'arf auhour zince, and I
arn't zeen him afterwards."
THE CURATi: OF CIICItNSIDE. 8.1
" Tell tlio servants at the vicarage to look around the
<;:roun(ls, then ; I'm ufraKl ho has rallen and liurt himself.
I ninst tako the do^ at onco to Perkins's, or else I shall ho
lato fur evensong."
The man went ofT straight toward the vicarage, and
Walter j )eM0 turned imiuediately with the dog in his arms
into tho village vetorinary's.
IT.
Tho servants from the vicarage were not the first persons
to hit upon tho dead body of the vicar. Joe llarlcy, tho
poacher, was out reconnoitring that afternoon in tho vicar's
preserves ; and five minutes after ^Valter Deno had })assed
down the far side of the hedge, Joe ITarley skulked noise-
lessly fioiu tlie orchard up to the cover of tho gate hy
JSolbury Copse. He crept through the open end by the post
(for it was against Joe's principles under any circumstances
to climb over an obstacle of any sort, and so needlessly
expose himself), and he was just going to slink off along
the other liedge, having wires and traps in his pocket,
when his boot struck violently against a sol't object in tho
ditch underfoot. It struck so violently that it crushed in
the object with the force of the impact ; and when Joe camo
to look at what the object might bo, he found to his horror
that it was tho bruised and livid face of tho old parson.
Joe had had a brush with keepers more than once, and had
«pent several months of seclusion in Dorchester Gaol ; but,
in spite of his familiarity with minor forms of lawlessness,
ho was moved enough in all conscience by this awful and
unexpected discovery. Ho turned the body over clumsily
with his hands, and saw that it had been stabbed in tho
back onco only. In doing so he trod in a little blood, and
80 STJiANGIC JSTOlilES.
got a drop or two on liis hIccvo ami trousers ; for tlic ])Ool
M'iiH bij^f^cr now, and .Too was not so liautly or dainty with
Lis fin<;('rs as IIk; idyllio curate.
It was an awful dilcninia, indeed, for a confirmed and
convicted i)oaclier. Should lie give the alarm then and
there, holdly, trusting to his innocence for vindication,
and hel[)ing the police to discover the jiiurdorer? Why,
that would he sheer suicide, no dou])t ; " for who but would
Lelicvo," ho thouj:;ht, " 'twas mo as done it? " Or should
lie slink away quietly and f-ay nothing, leaving others to
find tho body as best they might? That was dangerous
enough in its way if anybody saw him, but not so dan-
gerous as th(! other course. In an evil hour for his <nvn
chances Joe Ilarley clioso that worse counsel, and slank ofi'
in his familiar crouching fashion towards the opposite
corner of tho copso.
On the way ho heard John's voice holloaing for his
master, and kept close to tho hedge till ho had quite turned
the corner. But John had caught a glimpse of him too,
and John did not forget it when, a few minutes later, ho
camo up<m tho horrid sight beside the gate of Selbury
Copse.
Meanwhile AValter had taken King Charlie to the
veterinary's, and had his leg bound and bandaged securely.
lie had also gone down to tho church, got out his surplice,
and begun to put it on in the vestry for evensong, when
a messenger came at hot haste from the vicarage, with news
that Master Walter must come up at once, for tho vicar was
murdered.
" Murdered ! " Walter Dene said to himself slowly half
aloud ; " murdered ! how horrible ! Murdered ! " It was
an ugly word, and he turned it over with a genuine thrill
of horror. That was what they would say of him if over
the thing came to be discovered ! What an inappropriate
classification !
He threw aside the surplice, and rushed up hurriedly
THE ecu ATE OF CJWJiNSIDE. 87
to tho vicarii,o;c. Alrcaily tlio Rcrvants liiul In-ought in
tho body, {Uid laid it out in tlio clothes it -wore, on tlio
vicar's own bed. Walter Deno went, in, sluiddorinf;,
to look at it. To his utter ania/enicnt, tho face -vvas
battered in horribly and almost nnreeo<^ni/.ably by a
blow or kick' "What could that hideous niutilatiou
mean? IIo could not iniaj;ino. It was an awl'ul mys-
tery. Great heavens ! just fancy if any one were to tuko
it into his head that he, Walter l^cne, had dono .hat —
had kicked a defenceless old jjjentleman brutally about
tho face like a common London ruflian ! Tho idea was too
horrible to bo borno for a jnomont. It unmanned him
utterly, and ho hid his face between his tw(» liands and
sobbed aloud like ono broken-hearted. " This day's work
has been too much for my nerves," he thought to himself
between tho sobs ; " but jierhaps it is just as well I should
give way now completely."
That night was mainly taken up with tho formalities of
all such cases ; and when at last AV'alter Deno went off,
tired and nerve-worn, to bed, about midnight, ho could not
t^leep much for thinking of tho mystery. Tho murder
itself didn't trouble him greatly ; that was over and past
now, and he felt sure his precautions had been amply
sufUcient to protect him even from the barest suspicion ;
but ho couldn't fathom the mystery of that battered and
mutilated face ! Somebody must have seen the corpse
between the time of the murder and the discovery ! Who
could that somebody have been ? and what possible motive
could he have had for such a horrible piece of purposeless
brutality ?
As for the servants, in solemn conclave in the hall, they
had unanimously but one theory to account for all tho
facts : some poacher or other, for choice Joo Harloy, had
come across the vicar in the copse, with gun and traps in
hand. The wretch had seen he was discovered, had felled
the poor old vicar by a blow in the face with the butt-end
88 STjRANGE stories.
of his rifle, and after he foil, fiiinting, had stabbed him for
.q;reater security in the back. That was such an obvious
solution of the difficulty, that nobody in the servants' hall
liad a moment's hesitation in accepting it.
Wlien Walter heard next mornint^ early that Joe ITarley
had been arrested overnight, on John's information, hjs
horror and surprise at the news we re wholly nnaffected.
Hero Avas another now difiicultv, indeed. '• When I did
the thing," he said to himself, "I never thought of that
possibility. I took it for granted it would bo a mystery,
a problem for the local police (who, of course, could no
more solve it than they could solve tho2?o?is-rts/»o/-?»u), but it
never struck mo they would arrest an innocent person on
the charge instead of me. This is horrible. It's so easy
to make out a case against a poacher, and hang him for it,
on suspicion. One's whole sense of justice revolts against
the thing.. After all, there's a great deal to be said in
favour of the ordinary commony)lace morality : it prevents
complications. A man of delicate sensibilities oughtn't
to kill anybody ; he lets himself in for all kinds of un-
expected contingencies, witliout knowing it."
At the coroner's inquest things looked very black indeed
for Joe Ilarley. Walter gave his evidence first, showing
liow ho had found King Charlie wounded in the lane ; and
then the others gave theirs, as to the search for and finding
of the body. John in particular swore to having seen a
man's back and head slinking away by the hedge while
they were looking for the vicar ; and that back and head
he felt sure were Joe Harh^y's. To Walter's infinite horror
and disgust, the coroner's jury returned a verdict of wilful
murder against the poor poacher. What other verdict could
they possibly have given in accordance with such evidence ?
The trial of Joo Ilarley for the wilful murder of the
Reverend Arthur Deno was fixed for the next Dorchester
Assizes. In the interval, Walter Dene, for the first time
iu his placid life, knew what it was to undergo a mental
THE CURATE OF CEUIiNSIDE. 89
struggle. "SVhatever happened, ho could not let Joo ITarloy
ho hanged fur this murder. Ilis whole soul rose up witliin
him in loathing for such an act of hideous injustice. For
though Walt'.r Dene's code of morality was certainly not
the conventional one, as lie so often hoastud to himself, ho
was not hy any means without any code of morals of any
sort. lie could commit a murder where he thought it
necessary, hut he could not let an innocent man suffer in
his stead. Ilis ethical judgment on that point was just as
clear and categorical as the judgment which told liira ho
•was in duty bound to murder his uncle. For AValtcr did
not argue with himself on moral questions : ho perceived
the right and necessary thing intuitively ; he was a law to
himself, and he ohcyed his own law implicitly, fur good or
for evil. Such men arc capable of horrible and diabolically
deliberate crimes ; but they are capable of great aud
srenuine self-?acriiices also.
Walter made no secret in the village of his disinclination
to believe in Joe Ilarley's guilt. Joe was a rough fellow,
he said, certainly, and ho had no objection to talcing a
pheasant or two, and even to having a free fight with the
keepers ; but, after all, our game laws were an outrageous
piece of class legislation, and ho could easily understand
how the poor, whoso sense of justice they outraged, should
be so set against them. lie could not think Joo Ilarley
was capable of a detestable crime. Besides, ho had seen
him himself within a few minutes before and after the
murder. Everybody thought it such a proof of the young
parson's generous and kindly disposition ; he had certainly
the charity which thinketh no evil. Even though his
own uncle had been brutally murdered on his own estate,
he checked his natural feelings of resentment, and refused
to believe that one of his own parishioners could have been
guilty of tho crime. Nay, more, so anxious was he that
substantial justice should bo done the accused, and so
confident was ho of his innocence, that ho promised to
90 STRANGE STOEIES.
provide counsel for liim at his own expense; and he
provided two of the al)lest barristers on the Western
circuit.
Before the trial, Walter Dene had come, after a terrible
internal struggle, to an awful resolution. lie would do-
everything he could for Joe Harley ; but if the verdict
went against him, ho was resolved, then and there, in
open court, to confess, before judge and jury, the wholo
truth. It would be a horrible thing for Christina; ho
knew that; but he could not love Christina so much,
"loved lio not honour more ; " and honour, after his own
fashion, he certainly loved dearl3% Though he might
be false to all that all the world thought right, it was
ingrained in the very fibre of his soul to be true to his
own inner nature at least. Night after night he lay
awake, tossing on his bed, and picturing to his mind's
eye every detail of that terrible disclosure. The jury
would bring in a verdict of guilty : then, before the judge
put on his black cap, ho, Walter, would stand up, and tell
them that he could not let another man hang for his
crime ; he would have the wholo truth out before them ;
and then he would die, for he would have taken a little
bottle of poison at the firpt sound of the verdict. As for
Christina — oh, Christina ! — AV alter Dene could not daro
to let himself think upon that. It was horrible ; it was
unendurable ; it was torture a thousand times worse than
dying : but still, he must and would face it. For in
certain phases, AValter Dene, forger and murderer as he
was, could bo positively heroic.
The day of the trial came, and Walter Dene, pale and
haggard with much vigil, walked in a dream and faintly
from his hotel to the court-house. Everybody present
noticed what a deep effect the shock of his uncle's death
had had upon him. He was thinner and more bloodless
than usual, and his dulled eyes looked black and sunken
in their sockets. Indeed, he seemed to have suffered far
THE CURATE OF CUURNSIDE. 91
inoro intensely than tlio prisoner himself, who walked in
firmer and more erect, and took his seat doggedly in the
familiar dock. lie had been there more than once before,
to say the truth, though never before on such an errand.
Yet mcro habit, when lie got there, made him at onco
assume the hang-dog look of the consciously guiltj'.
Walter sat and watched and listened, still in a dream,
but without once betraying in his face the real depth of
Lis innermost feelings. In the body of the court ho saw
Joe's wife, weeping profusely and ostentatiously, after tho
fashion considered to bo correct by her class ; and thougli
ho pitied her from the bottom of his lieart, he could only
think by contrast of Christina. What were that good
woman's fears and sorrows by tho side of tho grief and
shame and unspeakable horror ho might liavc to bring
upon his Christina? Pray Heaven tho shock, if it came,
niiglit kill her outright; that would at least be better
than that she should live long years to remember. More
than judge, or jury, or prisoner, AValter Dene saw every-
where, behind the visible shadows that thronged the court,
that one persistent prospective picture of heart-broken
Christina.
The evidence for tho prosecution told with damning
force against the prisoner. He was a notorious poacher ;
tho vicar was a game-preserver. He had poached more
than onco on the ground of tho vicarage. Ho was shown
by numerous witneses to have had an animus against tho
vicar. Ho had been seen, not in the face, to be sure, but
still seen and recognized, slinking away, immediately
after the fact, from the scene of tho murder. And tho
prosecution had found stains of blood, believed by scien-
tific experts to be human, on the clothing he had worn
when he was arrested. Walter Dene listened now witli
terrible, unabated earnestness, for he knew that in reality
it was he himself who was upon his trial. Ho himself,
and Christina's happiness ; for if the poacher were found
&2 STRANGE STOltlEii.
guilty, he was firmly resolved, beyond hope of respite, to
tell all, and face the imspcakablo.
The defence seemed indeed a weak and feeble theory.
Somebody unknown had committed the murder, and this
somebody, seen from behind, had been mistaken by John
for Joe ITarley. The blood-stains need not be liuman, as
the cross-examination went to show, but were only known
by counter-experts to bo mammalian — perhaps a rabbit's.
Every poacher — and it was admitted that Joe was a
poacher — was liable to get his clothes blood-stained.
Grant they were human, Joe, it appeared, had himself
once shot oif his little finger. All these points came out
from the examination of the earlier witnesses. At last,
counsel put the curate himself into the box, and proceeded
to examine him briefly as a witness for the defence.
Walter Dene stepped, pale and haggard still, into the
witness-box. lie had made up his mind to make one final
effort " for Christina's happiness." ITe fumbled nervously
all the time at a small glass phial in ]iis pocket, but he
answered all questions without a moment's hesitation, and
he kept down his emotions with a wonderful composure
which excited the admiration of everybody j^i'csont.
There was a general hush to hear him. Did he see the
prisoner, Joseph Ilarley, on the day of the murder ? Yes,
three times. When was the first occasion ? From the
library window, just before the vicar left the house.
What was Joseph Ilarley then doing ? Walking in the
opposite direction from the copse. Did Joseph Ilarley
recognize him ? Yes, he touched his hat to him. When
was the second occasion ? About ten minutes later, when
he, Walter, was leaving the vicarage for a stroll. Did
Joseph Harley then recognize him ? Yes, ho touched his
hat again, and the curate said, *' Good morning, Joe ; a
fine day for walking." When was the third time ? Ten
minutes later again, when he was returning from the lane,
carrying wounded little King Charlie. Would it have
THE CURATE OF CnVRNSTDE. Off-
"bcuu pliysically posbiblo for tlic pri.soner to go Iroin tlio
vicarage to the spot whcro the murder was cominittcJ,
and back again, in th(i interval between tbo first two
occasions ? It would not. Would it have been physically
possible for the prisoner to do so in tlio interval between
the second and third occasions? It would not.
" Then in your opinion, Mr. Dene, it is physically
impossible that Joseph llarley can have committed this
murder ? "
" In ray opinion, it is physically impossible."
AVhilo Walter Dene solemnly swore amid dead silenco
to this treble lie, he did not dare to look Joe Harley .onco
in the face ; and while Joe llarley listened in amazement
to this unexpected assistance to his case — for counsel,
suspecting a mistaken identity, had not questioned him
too closely on the subject — he had presence of mind
enough not to let his astonishment show upon his stolid
features. But when Walter had finished his evidence in
chief, he stole a glance at Joe ; and for a moment their
eyes met. Then Walters fell in utter self-humiliation;
and he said to himself fiercely, " I would not so have
debased and degraded myself before any man to save my
own life — what is my life worth me, after all? — but to
save Christina, to save Christina, to save Christina ! I
have brought all this upon myself for Christina's sake."
Meanwhile, Joe llarley was asking himself curiously
what could be the meaning of this new move on parson's
part. It was deliberate perjury, Joe felt sure, for parson
could not have mistaken another person for him three
times over ; but what good end for himself could parson
hope to gain by it? If it was he who had murdered the
vicar (as Joe strongly suspected), why did he not try to
press the charge home against the first person who hap-
pened to be accused, instead of committing a distinct per-
jury on purpose to compass his acquittal ? Joe Harley, with
his simple eveiy-day criminal mind, could not be expected
94 STRANGE STORIES.
to unravel tho intrictacies of so complex a personality as
Walter Dene's. But even there, on trial for his life, ho
could not help wonclcring ^v]lat on earth young parson
could he driving at in this bu.sincss.
The judge summed up Avitli the usual luminously
ohvious alternate platitudes. If the jury thought that
John had ]-eally seen Joe Ilarley, and that the curate
was mistaken in the person whom he thrice saw, or was
mistaken once only out of the thrice, or had miscalculated
the time hetwccn each oevarrence, or the time necessary
to cover the ground to the gate, then they would find the
prisoner guilty of wilful murder. If, on the other hand,
they believed John had judged hastily, and that the curate
had really seen the prisoner three separate times, and that
he had rightly calculated all the intervals, then they
would find the prisoner not guilty. The prisoner's case
rested entirely upon the alibi. Supposing they thought
there was a doubt in the matter, they should give tho
prisoner tho benefit of tho doubt. Walter noticed that
the judge said in every other case, "If you believe tho
witness So-and-so," but that in his case he made no such
discourteous reservation. As a matter of fact, tho ono
person whoso conduct nobody for a moment dreamt of
calling in question was the real murderer.
Tho jury retired for more than an hour. During all
that time two men stood there in mortal suspense, intent
and haggard, both upon their trial, but not both equally.
The prisoner in tho dock fixed his arms in a dogged and
sullen attitude, the colour half gone from his brown cheek,
and his eyes straining with excitement, but showing no
outward sign of any emotion except the craven fear of
death. Walter Dene stood almost fainting in the body
of the court, his bloodless fingers still fumbling nervously
at the little phial, and his face deadly pale with the awful
pallor of a devouring horror. His heart scarcely beat at
all, but at each long slow pulsation he could feel it throb
THE cm ATE OF CIWRNSIDE. 95
di8tinctl;y witliin Lis bosom. lie saw or licanl iiotlilng
■before him, Imt kept liis aching eyes lixeJ Ktcailily on the
door by whieli the jury were to enter. Junior counsel
nudged one another to notice his agitation, and whispered
that that poor young curate had evidently never seen
a mau tried for his life hcforc.
At last the jury entered. Joe and "Walter waited, each
in his own manner, breathless for the verdict. " Do you
find the prisoner at the bar guilty or not guilty of wilful
murder?" Walter took the little phial from his pocket,
and held it carefully between his finger and thuml). Tho
awful moment had come ; the next word would decide tho
fate of himself and Christina. Tho foreman of the jury
looked up solemnly, and answered witli slov/ distinctness,
"Not guilty." Tho prisoner leaned back vacantly, and
wiped his forehead ; but there was an awful cry of relief
from one mouth in tho body of the court, and Walter Deno
sank back into tho arms of the bystanders, exhausted with
suspense and overcome by the reaction. Tho crowd
remarked among themselves that young Parson Deno was
too tender-hearted a man to como into court at a criminal
trial. He would break his heart to see even a dog hanged,
let alone his fellow-Christians. As for Joe Harley, it was
universally admitted that ho had had a narrow s(|ueak of
it, and that ho had got off better than he deserved. The
jury gave him the benefit of the doubt.
As soon as all the persons concerned had returned to
Churnside, Walter sent at once for Joe Ilarlcy, Tho
poacher came to see him in the vicarage library. He was
elated and coarsely exultant with his victory, as a relief
from the strain he had sufiered, after the manner of all
vulgar natures.
" Joe," said the clergyman slowly, motioning him into
a chair at the other side of the desk, " I know that after
this trial Churnside will not be a pleasant place to hold
you. All your neighbours belioA'o, in spite of the verdict,
9G STUANOE STORIES.
that you killed tlio vicar. I feci sure, however, that you
did not commit this umrder. Thereforo, as some com-
pensation for tlio sufF(.']-ing of mind to -which you have
been put, I think it well to send you and your wife and
family to Australia or Canada, whichever you like best.
I propose also to make you a present of a hundred pounds,
to set you up in your new home."
" j\Iako it five hundred, passon," Joe said, lookinj^ at him
significantly.
Walter smiled quietly, and did not flinch in any way.
"I said a hundred," ho continued calmly, "and I will
make it only a hundred. I should have had no objection to
making it five, except for the manner in which you ask it.
But you evidently mistake the motive of my gift. I give
it out of puro compassion for you, and not out of any
other feeling whatsoever."
" Very well, passon," said Joe sullenly, " I accept it."
"You mistake again," Walter went on blandly, for ho
was himself again now. " You arc not to accept it as
terms ; you are to thank me for it as a pure present. I
see wo two partially understand each other; but it is
important you should understand mo exactly as I mean it.
Joe Ilarley, listen to mo seriously. I havo saved your
life. If I had been a man of a coarse and vulgar nature,
if I had been like you in a similar predicament, I would
havo pressed the case against you for obvious personal
reasons, and vou would havo been hanged for it. But I
did not press it, because I felt convinced of your innocence,
and my sense of justice rose irresistibly against it. I did
the best I could to save you ; I risked my own reputation
to save you ; and I have no hesitation now in telling you
that to the best of my belief, if the verdict had gone against
you, tho person who really killed the vicar, accidentally
or intentionally, meant to havo given himself up to the
police, rather than let an innocent man suffer."
" Passon," said .Toe Ilarley, looking at him intently, " I
TUE CURATE OF CnUUXSTDE. 07
"belicvo as j'on'ro tcUin' mo tlio triitli. I zcon as mncli in
that person's faco aforo tho verdict."
Tlicro was a solemn pauKo for a moment; and then
Walter Dene said sl(jwly, " Now that you liavo withdrawn
your claim as a claim, I will stretch a point and make it
five liundrod. It is littlo enough for what you have
suffered. But I, too, havo suffered terribly, terribly."
" Thank you, passon," Joo answered. " I zeou as you
were turblo anxious."
There was again a moment's pause. Then Walter Done
asked quietly, " Ifow did the vicar's faco come to bo so
bruised and battered ? "
"I stumbled up agin 'ini accidental like, and didn't
know I'd kicked 'un till I'd done it. IMust 'a been just
a few minutes after you'd 'a left 'un."
'• Joo," said tho curate in his calmest tone, " you had
better go ; the money will bo sent to you shortly. But
if you ever see my faco again, or speak or write a word of
this to mc, you shall not have a penny of it, but shall bc^
prosecuted for intimidation. A hundred bel'oro you leave,
four hundred in Australia. Now go."
" Very well, passon," Joo answered ; and ho went.
" Pah ! " said tho curate with a face of distrust, shuttinc:
the door after him, and lighting a perfumed pastille in his
little Chinese porcelain incense-burner, as if to fumigat*^
the room from tho poacher's offensive presence. "Pah!
to think that these afl'airs should compel one to humiliate
and abase one's self before a vulgar clod like that ! To
think that all his life long that fellow will virtually know
— and misinterpret — my secret. lie is incapable of under-
standing that I did it as a duty to Christina. Well, he
will never dare to tell it, that's certain, for nobody would
belicvo him if ho did; and ho may congratulate himself
heartily that he's got well out of this difficulty. It will
be the luckiest thing in tho end that ever happened to
him. And now I hope this littlo episode is finally over."
II
98
STEAXGE STORIES.
"When tlie Clini'iisidc puLlic learned tliat WaHer Dcno
ineaiit to carry his belief in Joe Hurley's innocence so far
as to send liim and liis family at liis own expense out to
Australia, tliey held that the young parson's charity and
c^uilelessncss was reall3% as tliu dcjctur said, almost Quixotic.
And when, in his anxiety to detect and punish tlio real
murderer, he oflbred a reward of live hundred pounds from
Ills own pocket for any informatit)n leading to the arrest
and conviction of the criminal, the Churnsido people
laughed quietly at his extraordinary cliildliko simplicity
(jf heart. The real murderer had been caught and tried
at Dorchester Assizes, tliey said, and had only got off by
the skin of his teeth because Walter liimself had como
forward and sworn to a quite improbabks and inconclusive
aJihi. Therc>, was plenty of time for Joe to have ^^-ot to
the gate by the short cut, and that ho did so everyliody at
Churnsido felt morally certain. Indeed, a few years later
a blood-stained bowie-knife was found in the hed^-o not
far from the scene of the murder, and the gamekeeper
" could almost 'a took his Bible oath he'd zcen just such
a knife along o' Joe ITarley."
That was not the end of Walter Dene's Quixotisms,
however. When the will was read, it turned out that
almost everything was left to the young parson ; and who
could deserve it better, or spend it more charitably ? But
AValter, though he would not for the world seem to cast
any slight or disrespect upon his dear uncle's memt>rj% did
not approve of customs of primogeniture, and felt bound
to share the estate equally with his brotlior Arthur.
" Strange," said the head of the firm of Watson and
Blenkiron to himself, when he read the little paragraph
about this generous conduct in the paper ; " I thought
the instructions were to leave it to his nephew Arthur,
not to his nephew W^alter ; but there, one forgets and
confuses names of people that one does not know so
easily." " Gracious goodness ! " thought the engrossing
THE CURATE OF CmmXSlDE. Ol>
clerk ; " snvoly it -vvas tlio other %vay on. I Avondor if I
can have gone and copied the wrong names in tlio ^v^)no•
places?" ]»ut in a Lig London Lnsiness, nol)ndy notes
tlioso thing.s as tlicy would have been noted in (Imrnsido ;
the vicar was always a changcal)le, pernickety, linlTy old
fellow, and very likely lio had had a reverse Avill drawn
np afterwards by his country lawyer. All tlic world only
thought that AV'altor ]Jcno's generosity was really almost
ridiculous, oven in a parson. When ho was married to
Christina, six months afterwards, everybody t;aid so
charming a girl was well mated with so excellent and
admirable a husband.
And he really did mako a very tender and loving
husband and father. ('Jiristina believed in him alwaj's,
for ho did his best to foster and keep alive her faith. ITo
would have given up active clerical duty if :ho could,
never having liked it (for ho was above hypocrisy), but
Christina was against the project, and his bishop would
not hear of it. The Church could ill allord to lose such
a man. as Mr. Dene, the bishop said, in thcso troubled
times ; and he begged him as a personal favour to accept
the living of Churnsido, which was in his gift. P>ut
Walter did not like the place, and asked for another
living instead, which, being of less value — " so liko ]\Ir.
Dene to think nothing of the temporalities," — the bishop
even more graciously granted. lie has since published
a small volume of dainty littlo j)oems on uncut paper,
considered by some critics as rather pagan in tone lor
a clergyman, but universally allowed to bo extremely
graceful, the perfection of poetical form with much deli-
cate mastery of poetical matter. And everybody knows
that the author is almost certain to bo offered the first
vacant canonry in his own cathedral. As for the littlo
episode, he himself has almost forgotten all about it ; for
those who think a murderer must feel remorse his whole
life long, are trying to read their own emotional nature
into the wholly dispassionate character of Walter Dcno.
AiY EPISODE IX JUnil LIFE.
Sir TTknry Vaudox, K.C.B., olcctrician to the Adnuialty,
whoso title, as everybody knows, was ga/.ctteil fioinc six
wcolcs since, is at this nic^nient tho yonngost living
member of tho British knighlhood. lie is now only just
thirty, and lie lias obtained his present high distinction
by those remarkable inventions of his in tho matter of
electrical signalling and lighthonso arrangements which
have been so mucii talked about in Nature this year,
and which gained him the gohl medal of tho Eoyal
Society in 1881, Lady Vardon is one of tho yonngest
and prettiest hostesses in London, and if you would care
to hear the history of their courtship hero it is.
When Harry Vardon left Oxford, only seven years
ago, none of his friends could imagine what he meant
by throwing up all his chances of University success.
Tho son of a poor country parson in Devonsliire, who
had strained his little income to the uttermost to send
him to college, Vardon of Magdalen had done credit to
his father and himself in all the schools. Ho gained the
best demyship of his year ; got a first in classical mods. ;
and then unaccountably took to reading science, in
which he carried everything before him. At the end of
his four years, ho walked into a scientific fellowship at
Balliol as a matter of course ; and then, after twelve
months' residence, ho suddenly surprised the world of
AN EPISODE IN niGH LIFE. 101
Oxford by accepting a tutoivsliip to tho young Earl of
Surrey, at (hat time, as you doubtless rcuicmbor, a minor,
ajred about Kixteon.
IJut Harry A'ardon bad <;ood reasons of bis own for
taking tbis tutorsbip. Six niontbs after lio became a
fellow of Balliol, tbo old vicar bad died unexpectedly,
leaving bis only otber cbild, Editb, alone and unprovided
for, as was iiideed natural ; fur tbo expenses of Hurry's
coUego life bad (juito eaten up tbo meagro savings of
twenty ycavr; at Little Hintou. In order to provide a
liomo for Editb, it was neces.sary tbat Harry s^bould find
sometbing or otber to do wbioli wonld bring in an
immediate income. Scbool-mastering, tbat refuge of tho
destitute graduate, was not niucb to bis mind ; and so
when tbo senior tutor of Boniface wroto a little note to
ask wbether he would cavo to accept the cbargo of a cub
noblenuxn, as ho disrespectfully phrased it, Harry jumped
at tbo olfer, and took the proposed salary of 400Z. a year
with tbo greatest alacrity. Tliat would far nioro than
sufiico for all Edith's simple needs, and he himself could
live npon tbo proceeds of his fellowship, besides finding
time to continue bis electrical researches. For I will not
disguise the fact that Harry only accepted tho cub noble-
Tuan as a stop-gap, and that ho meant even then to make
his fortune in the end by those splendid electrical dis-
coveries which will undoubtedly immortalize his name in
future ages.
It was summer term when the appointment was made ;
and the Surrey people (who were poor for their station)
had just gone down to Colyford Abbey, the family seat, in
the valley of the Axe near Seaton. You have visited tho
house, I dare say — open to visitors every Tuesday, when
the family is absent — a fine somewhat modernized man-
sion, with somo good perpendicular work about it still, in
spite of the havoc wrought in it by Inigo Jones, who
converted the chapel and refectory of the old Cistercians
102 JSTnANCiE STOIUES.
into a Lanquetini^-liall and Lallroom for tlio first Lortl
Surrey of tliu present creation. It was lovely weather
when Harry VarJon went down there ; and the Ahbey,
and the terrace, and the park, and the heantil'ul valley
beyond were looking their very Lest. Harry fell in lovo
with the view at once, and almost fell in lovo with the
inmates too at tho first glance.
Lady Surrey, the mother, was sitting on a garden scat
in i'ronl of the house as tho carri.igc which met him at
Colyford station drin'o up to tlio door. iSho was much
younger and more heautiful than Harry had at all
expected. He had pictured the dowager to himself as a
stately old lady of sixty, with white hair and a grand
manner : instead of whicli ho found himself face to face
with a well-preserved heauty of something less than forty,
not above medium height, and still strikingly pretty in a
round-faced, mature, hut very delicate fashion. Sho had
Avavy chestnut hair, regular features, an exquisite set of
pearly teeth, full cheeks whose natural roses wore perhaps
just a trifle increased by not wholly ringracefiil art, and
above all a lovely complexion quite unspoilt as yet by
years. She was dressed as such a person should be dressed,
with no afTectation of girlislmess, Imt in the stylo that
best shows off ripe beauty and a womanly figure. Harry
was always a very impressionable fellow; and I really
believe that if Lady Surrey had been alono ho would
have f illen over head and ears in lovo with her at first
sight.
But there was something which kept him from falling
in love at once Avith Lady Surrey, and that was tho girl
who sat half reclining on a tiger-skin at her feet, with a
little sketching tablet on her lap. Ho could hardly tako
full stock of the mother because ho was so busy looking at
the daught'^r as well. I shall not attempt to describe
Lady Gladys Hurant; all pretty girls fall under ono of
Kome half-dozen heads, and description at best can reallv
.LY EPISODE IN HIGH LIFE. lO:;
do no moro llian classify them. Lady Gladys belonged to
the tall ai5d i^raccfnl aristocratic class, and she was a .good
specimen of the typo at seventeen. Not that Harry A'ardou
fell in love with her at once; he was really in the plcasin<;-
condition of Captain Macheath, too much engaged in look-
ing at two pretty w-omen to be capable even mentally of
making a choice between them. IMother and daughter
were both almost equally beautiful, each in her own
distinct stylo.
The countess half rose to greet him — it is condescension
on the part of a countess to notice the tutor at all, I
belivc; but though I am no lover of lords myself, I will
do the Durants the justice to say tliat their treatment of
Harry was always the vei'y kindliest that could possibly
bo expected from people of their ideas and traditions.
"]\Ir. A^ardon?" she said intcrrcgatively, as she held
out her hand to tho new tutor. Harry bowed assent.
" I'm glad you have such a lovely day to make your first
acquaintance with Colyford. It's a pretty place, isn't it?
Gladys, this is Mr. Vardon, wlio is kindly going to take
charge of Surrey for us."
" I'm afraid you don't know what you'ro going to
undertake," said Gladys, smiling and holding out her
hand. " He's a dreadful pickle. Do you know this part
of tho world before, Mr. Vardon?"
"Not just hereabouts," Harry answered; *' my fathers
parish was in North Devon, but I know the greater part
of tho county very well."
" That's a good thing," said Gladys quickly ; " we're all
Devc shire people here, and we believe in the county witli
all our hearts. I wish Surrey took his title from it. It's
so absurd to take your title from a place you don't care
about only because you've got laud there. I love Devon-
shire people best of any."
" Mr. Vardon Avould probably like to see his rooms,"
said the countess. " Parker, will you show him up ? "
104 STIiANGE STOItlES.
The rooms were everything that Harry could wish.
There was a prettily furnished sitting-room for himself on
the front, looking across the terrace, with a view of the
valley and the sea in the distance; there was a study
next door, for tutor and pupil to work in; there was
a cheerful little bedroom behind ; and downstairs at the
back there was the large bare room for which Harry
had specially stipulated, wherein to put his electrical
apparatus, for he meant to experiment and work busily at
his own subject in his spare time. There was a sj)ccial
servant, too, told off to wait upon him ; and altogether
Harry felt that if only the social position could be made
endurable, he could live very comfortably for a year or
two at Colyford Abbey.
There are some men who could never stand such a life
at all. There are others who can stand it because they
can stand anything. But Harry Vardon belonged to
neither class. He was one of those who feel at home in
most places, and who can get on in all societ like. In
the first place, he was one of the handsomest fellows you
ever saw, with large dark eyes, and that particular black
moustache that no woman can ever resist. Then again ho
was tall and had a good presence, which impressed even
those most dangerous of critics for a private tutor, the
footmen. Moreover, he was clever, chatty, and agreeable ;
and it never entered into his head that he was not con-
ferring some distinction upon the Surrey family by con-
senting to be teacher to their young lordling — which,
indeed, was after all the sober fact.
The train was in a little before seven, and there was a
bit of a drive from the station, so that Harry had only
just had time to dress for dinner when the gong sounded.
In the drawing-room he met his future pupil, a good-
looking, high-spirited, but evidently lazy boy of sixteen.
The family was alone, so the earl took down his mother,
while Harry gave his arm to Lady Gladys. Before dinner
^.V EPISODE IN UIGU LIFE. 105
Avas over, the new tutor had taken the measure of the trio
protty accurately. The countess was clever, that was
certain ; she took an interest in hooks and in art, and she
could talk lightly hut well upon most current topics in
the easy sparkling stylo of a woman of the world. Gladys
was clever too, though not hooky ; she was full of sketch-
ing and music, and was delighted to hear that Harry
could paint a little in water-colours, besides being the
owner of a good violin. As to the bo}^ his fancy clearly
ran for the most part to dogs, guns, and cricket; and
indeed, though he was no doubt a very important per.-on
as a future member of the British legislature, I think for
the purposes of the present story, which is mainly con-
cerned with Harry Vardon's fortunes, we may safely Icavo
him out of consideration. Harry taught him as much as
he could be induced to learn for an hour or two every
]uorning, and looked after him as far as possible when ho
was anywhere within hearing throughout the rest of tlio
day ; but as the lad was almost always out around tlio
place somewhere with a gamekeeper or a stable-boy, he
hardly entered practically into the current of Harry's life
at all, outside the regular hours of study. As a matter of
fact, he never learnt much from anybody or did anything
worth speaking of; but he has since married a Birmingham
heiress with a million or so of her own, and is now
^me of the most rising young members of tho House of
Lords.
After dinner, the countess showed Harry her excellent
collection of Bartolozzis, and Harry, who knew something
about them, showed the countess that she was wrong as
to the authenticity of one or two among them. Then
Gladys played passably well, and he sang a duet with her,
in a way that made her feel a little ashamed of her own
singing. And lastly Harry brought down his violin, at
which the countess smiled a little, for she thought it
audacious on the first evening ; but when he played ono
lOG STIiAXGE STOniES.
of liis best pieces .slio snnled again, for she had a good ear
and a great deal of taste. After which tliey all retired to
bed, and Gladys remarked to her maid, in the privacy
of her own room, that the new tutor was a A-ery pleasant
man, and quite a relief after such a stick as Mr.
"Wilkinson.
At breakfast next morning the party remained un-
changed, but at luncli the two younger girls appeared
upon tho scene, with their governess, Miss Martindalc.
Though very different in typo from Gladys, Ethel j\Iartin-
dale was in her way an equally pretty girl. She was
small and mignonne, with delicate little hands, and a light
pretty iigure, not too slight, but very gracefully propor-
tioned. Her cheeks and chin were charmingly dimpled,
and her complexion was just of that faintly-dark tino-e
that one sees so often combined with light-brown hair
and eyes in the moorland parts of Lancashire. Altogether,
she was a perfect foil to Gladys, and it would have been
difficult for almost any man as lie sat at that table to say
which of tho three, mother, daughter, or governess, was
really the prettiest. For my own part, I give my vote
unreservedly for the countess, but then I am getting
somewhat grizzled now and have long been bald ; so my
liking turns naturally towards ripe beauty. I hate your
self-conscious cliits of seventeen, who can only chat and
giggle ; I like a woman who has something to say for
herself. But Harry was just turned twenty-thi-ee, and
perhaps liis choice might, not unnaturally, have gone
otherwise.
The governess talked little at lunch, and seemed alto-
gether a rather subdued and timid girl. Harry noticed
with pain that she appeared half afraid of speaking to
anybody, and also that the footmen made a marked
distinction between their manner to him and their manner
to her. He would have liked once or twice to kick tho
fellows for their insolence. After lunch, Gladys and tho
AX EPISODE IN HIGH LIFE. 107
littlo ones went for a stroll down towards the river, and
Harry followed aftt^r with ]\Iiss Martindale.
" Do yon come from this part of England ? " he asked.
"Xo," answered Ethel, "I come from Lancashire. My
father was rector of a small parish on the moors."
Harry's heart smote him. It mitxht haA'o been Edith.
"What a little turn of chance had made all the diiri'ienco !
" My father Avas a parson too," ho said, and then checked
himself for the half-disresjiectfiil word, " but he lived
down hero in ],)evonsliire. Do you like Colyford ? "
" Oh yes, — the place, very much. There are delightful
rambles, and Lady Gladys and I go out sketching a great
deal. And it's a deliglitful country for flowers."
The place, but not the life, thought Harry. Poor child,
it must bo very hard for her.
" Mr. A^ardon, come on here, I want you," called oiit
Crladys from tlio little stone bridge. " You know every-
thing. Can you tell me what this flower is?" and she
held out a long spray of waving green-stufi'.
" Caper spurge," said Harry, looking at it carelessly.
" Oh no," j\liss Martindale put in quickly, " Portland
spurge, surely."
" So it is," Harry answercfl, looking closer. " Then you
are a bit of a botanist, Mi^s IMartindalo ? "
" Not a botanist, but very fond of the flowers."
" Miss Martindale's always picking lots of ugly things
and bringing them home," said Gladys laughingly; "aren't
you, dear ? "
Ethel smiled and nodded. So they went on past the
bridge and out upon the opposite side, and back again by
the little white railings into the park.
For the next three months Harry enjoyed himself in
a busy way immensely. Every morning he had his three
hours' teaching, and every afternoon he went a walk, or
fished in the river, or worked at his electrical machines.
To the household at the Abbey such a man was a perfect
108 STRANGE STORIES.
godsend. For he was a versatile fellow, able to turn his
liaiid to anything, and the Durants lived in a very qniet
way, and were glad of somebody to keep the house lively.
The money was all tied up till the boy came of age, and
oven then there wouldn't be much of it. Surrey had been
sent to Eton for a month or two and then removed, by
request, to prevent more violent measures ; after which ho
was sent to two or three other schools, always with the
same result. So he was brought home again and handed
over to the domestic persuasion of a private tutor. The
only thing that kept him moderately quiet was the pos-
sibility of running around the place with the keepers ;
and the only person who ever taught him auytliing was
Harry Yardon, though even he, I must admit, did not
succeed in impressing any very valuable lessons upon the
lad's volatile brain. The countess saw few visitors, and
so a man like Harry was a real acquisition to the little
circle. lie was perpetually being wanted by everybody,
everywhere, and at the end of three months ho was simply
indispensable.
Lady Surrey was always consulting him as to the proper
place to plant the new wellingtonias, the right aspect for
deodars, the best plan for mounting water-colours, and the
correct date of all the neighbouring churches. It was so
delightful to drive about with somebody who really under-
stood the history and geology and anti(|uities of the county,
she said ; and she began to develoiD an extraordinary
Interest in prehistoric archaeology, and to listen patiently
to Harrj'-'s disquisitions on the difference between long
barrows and round barrows, or on the true nature of the
earthworks that cap the top of Membury Hill. Harry for
his part was quite ready to discourse volubly on all these
subjects, for it was his hobby to impart information,
whereof he had plenty ; and he liked knocking about the
country, examining castles or churches, and laying down
the law about matters architectural with much authority
AX EPISODE h\ UIGII LIFE. 109
to two pretty women. TIio countess oven took an interest
in his great electrical investigation, and came into his
workshop to hear all about tlio uses of his mysterious
batteries. As for Lady Gladys, she was for ever wanting
Mr. Yardon's opinion abont the exact colour for that
shadow by tho cottage, Mr. A^'ardon's aid in practising
that difficult bit of Chopin, Mr. Vardou's counsel about
the decorative treatment of tho passion-flower on that
lovely piece of crewel-work. Indeed, contrary to Miss
Martindale's express admonition, and all tho dictates of
propriety, she was always running olf to Harry's littlo
sitting-room to ask his advice about five hundred different
things, five hundred times in every twenty-four hours.
There was only one person in tho household who seemed
at all shy of Harry, and that was Miss Martindale. Do
what he could, he could never get her to feel at home
with him. She seemed always anxious to keep out of his
way, and never ready to join in any of his plans. This
was annoying, because Harry really liked the poor girl
and felt sorry for her lonely position. But as she would
have nothing to say to him, why, thero was nothing else
to be done ; so ho contented himself with being as polite
to her as possible, while respecting her evident wish to bo
let alone.
One afternoon, when the four had been out for a drive
together to visit the old ruins near Cowhayne, and Harr}-
had been sketching Avith Gladys and lecturing to the
countess to his heart's content, he was bitting on the
bench by the red cedars, when to his surprise he saw
the governess strolling carelessly across the terrace
towards him. " j\[r. Vardon," she said, standing beside
the bench, " I want to say something to you. You mustn't
mind my saying it, but I feel it is part of my duty. Do
you think you ought to pay so much attention to Gladys?
You and I come into a family of this sort on peculiar
terms, you know. They don't think wo are quite the
]C0 STEANGIJ STORIES.
same sort of liunian Loiupjs as tlicnisolvcs. Xow, I'm ]ialf
afraid — I don't like to say so, but I think it Ijcttcr I
should say it than my hidy — I'm half afraid that Gladys
is getting her licad too much filled with you. "Wliatever
she does, j'ou are always Iiolping her. She is for ever
running oir to see you ahout somethinp; or other. She is
very young; she meets very few other men; and you
have been extremely attontivo to lier. But when peojDlo
like these admit you into 1hoir family, they do so on tlio
tacit understanding that you will not do wluit they would
call abusing the position. To-day, I half fancied that my
lady looked at you once or twice when you were talking to
Gladys, and I thought I would try to he bravo enough to
sjieak to you about it. If I don't, I think she will."
"Really, Miss jMartindale," said Ilarrj^ rising and
walking by her side towards the laburnum alley, " I'm
very glad you have unburdened your mind about this
matter. For myself, you know, I don't acknowledge the
obligation. I should marry any girl I liked, if she would
have me, whatever her artificial position might be ; and I
should never let any barriers of that sort stand in' my
way. But I don't know that I have the slightest inten-
tion of ever trying to marry Lady Gladys or anybody elso
of the sort ; so wliile I remain undecided on that point,
I shall do as you wish me. By the way, it strikes mo
now that you have been trj'ing to keep her away from
me as much as possible."
" As part of my duty, I think I ought to do so. Yes."
" Well, you may rely upon it, I will give you no more
cause for anxiety," said Ilarr}^ ; " so the less wo sa}^ about
it the better. AVliat a lovely sunset, and wliat a glorious
colour on the cliffs at Axmouth I " And he walked down
the alley with her two or three times, talking about
various indifferent subjects. Somehow he had never
managed to get on so well with her before. She was
a very nice girl, he thought, really a very nice girl;
.LV El'IbODE IN nwn LIFE. Ill
what a pit}' slic wonltl nover tako any notice of liliii in
any way! Jlowcver, lio enjoyed that qniot lialf-hour
immensely, and was quite sorry when Lady Surrey camo
out a little later and joined them, exactly as if she wanted
to interrupt tlieir conversation. Jiut what a heautifiil
woman Lady Surrey was too, as she carao across the lawn
just then in her garden hat and the pale blue Umrit/ur
shawl thrown loosely across hqr shapely shouhlors ! By
Jove, she was as handsome a woman, after all, as he had
ever seen.
Aft(!r dinner that evening Lady Surrey sent Gladys
off to jMiss ]\Iartindale's room on some small pretext, and
then put Harry down on the sofa beside her to help in
arranging those interminable ferns of hers. Evening dress
suited the countess best, and she knew it. She was
looking even more beautiful than before, with her hair
prettily dressed, and the little simple turquoise necklet
setting off her white neck ; and she talked a great deal to
Harry, and was really very charming. No more fascin-
ating widow, he thought, to bo found anywhere within a
hundred miles. At last she stopped, leaning over the
ferns, and sat back a little on the sofa, half fronting him.
" Mr. Yardon," she said suddenly, " there is something I
wish to speak to 3'ou about, privately."
" Certainly," said Harry, half expecting the topic.
"Do you know, I think you ought not to pay such
marked attention to Lady Gladys. Two or three times
I have fancied I noticed it, and have meant to mention it
to you, but I thought it might be unnecessary. On many
accounts, however, I think it is best not to let it pass any
longer. The differcnco of station "
"Excuse me," said Harry, "I'm sorry to differ from
you, but I don't acknowledge differences of station." .;
" Well," said the countess, in a conciliatory tone,
"under certain circumstances that may bo perfectly
correct. A young man in your position and with your
112 STRANCrE STOTiTES.
talents has of courso tho whole world hcforo him. He can
niako liiinsolf wliatevcr ho pleases. I don't thinlc, ^Ir.
Vavdoii, I have over under-estlmatod tho worth of brains.
I do feel that knowledjijo and cnltnre arc nmch greater
things after all than mcro position. Now, in justice to
me, don't you think I do ? "
Harry looked at her — sho was really a very beautiful
woman — and tlien said, " Yes, I think you have certainly
better and moro rational tastes than most other people-
circumstanced as you are."
" I'm so glad you do," tho countess answered, heartily.
*' T don't caro for a life of perfect frivolity and fashion,
such as one gets in London. If it were not for Gladys's
sake I sometimes think I would give it up entirely. Do
you know, I often wish my life had been cast very difler-
ently — cast among another sot of people from the people
I have always mixed among. Whenever I meet clever
people — literary peojilo and schdlars — I always feel so
sorry I haven't moved all my life in their world. From
one point of view, I quite recognize what you said just
now, that these artificial distinctions should not exist
between people who are really eq^uals in intellect and
culture."
" Naturally not," said Harry, to whom this proposition
sounded like a familiar truism.
" But in Lady Gladys's case, I feel I ought to guard
her against seeing too much of anybody in particular just
at present. Sho is only seventeen, and she is of courso
impressionable. Now, you know a great many mothers
would not have spoken to you as I do ; but I like you,
Mr. Vardon, and I feel at homo with you. You will
promise me not to pay so much attention to Gladys in
future, won't you ? "
As she looked at him full in tho face with her beautiful
eyes, Harry felt ho could just then have promised her
anything. " Yes," he said, " I will promise."
^.v EVisoDi: IS man ufe. 113
•'Tliaiik 3"ou,'' Kiiil tlio connlcss, loolcint; at iiiiu ji;2;aln ;
"I am very iiiudi obliged U) you." And then fur a
moment tlicro was an awkward paiiso, and tlioy Loth
lonked lull into ono another's eyes without saying a
word.
In a minnto the countoss Logan again, and said a good
many tilings ahoiit what a dreadful waste of life ]ieopl^
generally made ; and what a privilege it was to know
elever people; and what a reality and purpose there was
in tlujir lives. A great deal of this sort she said, and.
in a low pL asant V(jicc. And then there was another
awkward pause, and they looked, at ono another ouco
more.
Harry certainly thought tho conntcss very beautiful,
and ho liked, her very much. She was really kind-
hearted and friendly ; she was interested in tlic subjects
that pleased him ; and she was after all a jirctty woman,
still young as men connt youth, and very agreeable — nay,
anxious to please. And then sho had said what she said
about tho artificiality of ela.ss distinctions so markedly
and pointedly, with such a coiuinentary from her eyes,
that Harry half fancied — wcdl, I don't quite know what
ho fancied. As ho sat there beside her on the sofa,
with tho ferns before him, looking straight into her
eyes, and sho into his, it must bo clear to all my
readers that if ho had any special proposition to make
to her on any abstract subject of human speculation,
tho timo had obviuu>ly ariived to make it. But some-
thing or other inscrutablo kept him back. "Lady
Surrey " he said, and tho words stuck in his throat.
"Yes." sho answered softly. "Shall .... shall wo go
on with tho ferns ? " Lady Surrey gave a littlo short
breath, brought back her eyes Irom dreamland, and
turned with a sudden smilo back to the portfolio. For
tho rest of tho evening, tho candid historian must admit
that they both felt liko a pair of fools. Conversation
I
114 STIiAXaE STOllIi:S.
lagged, and I don't tliinlc oitlicr of tbom was sorry when
tho time came for retiring.
It is useless for tlic clunisynialo psychologist to protend
that ho can sco into tho heart of a woman, cspcciall}'
when tho normal action of said heart is coniiilieatcd hy
such queer conventionalities as that of a countess who
feels a distinct liking for hor son's tutor: hut if I may
vcnturo to attempt that impossiMo feat of clairvoyanco
without rchnkc, I should ho inclined to diagnose Lady
Surrey's condition as sho lay sleepless for an hour or
so on her pillow that night somewhat as follows. iSlic
thought that Harry Vardon was really a very clever and
a very pleasant fellow. iSho thought that men in society
wcro generally dreadfully empty-headed and horrihly
vain. iSho thought that tho imp<jrtance of disparity in
ago had, as a rule, heen immensely overrated. Sho
thought that rank was after all much less valuahle than
sho used to think it Avhen first she married poor dear
Surrey, who was really tho kindest of men, and a
thorough gentleman, hut certainly not at all hrilliant.
Sho thought that a young man of Harry's talent might,
if well connected, get into Parliament and rise, like
Beaconsfield, to any position. Sho thought ho was very
frank, and open, and gentlemanly; and very handsome
too. Sho thouglit ho had half hcsitatod whether ho
should propose to her or not, and had then drawn back
because ho was not certain of tho consequences. Sho
thought that if ho had proposed to her — well, perhaps
— why, yes, sho might oven possibly have accepted him.
She thought ho would probably propose in earnest, before
long, as soon as ho saw that she was not wholly averse to
his attentions. Sho thought in that case sho might
perhaps provisionally accept him, and get him to try
what ho could do in tho way of obtaining some sort of
position — she didn't exactly know what — where ho could
more easily marry her with the least possible shock to
A\ KVISODK L\ IlK.n I.IVi:. 115
tho feelings of society. And hIio tliou'i^lit that she really
didn't know Lcfore for twenty years at l(;ast liuw great a
gO(>.so she positively was.
Next morning, after breakfast, Lady Suirey sent for
rjladys to como to lier in her houduir. 'i'hen she pnt her
daughter in a chair hy tho window, drew hor own eloso to
it, laid her hand kindly on her shoulder — slio was a
nico little woman at heart, was tho countess — and said
to her gently, "^^ly dear (Jladys, there's a little
matter I want to talk to you ahout. You aro still very
young, you know, dear; and I Ihiidc you ought to bo very
careful about not letting your feelings bo played upon
in any way, however unconsciously. Xow, you walk
und talk a great deal too much, dear, with j\[r. Vardon.
In many ways, it would bo well ihat yon should.
Mr. Vardon is very clever, and very well informed, and
a very instructive companion. 1 like you to talk to
intelligent people, and to hear intelligent people talk ; it
gives you something that mere books can never give. But
you know, ( iladys, you should always remember tho
disparity in yt)ur stations. I don't deny that there's a
jrreat deal in all that sort of thing that's very conventional
and absurd, my dear ; but still, girls are girls, and if
they're thrown too much with any one young man " —
Lady Surrey was going to add, "especially when he's
handsome and agreeable," but she checked herself in
time — "they're very apt to form an attection for him.
Of course I'm not suggesting that you'ro likely to da
anything of tho sort with Mr. Vardon — I don't for a
moment su})poso you \vould — but a girl can never bo too
careful. I hope you know your position too well ; " hero
Lady Surrey was conscious of certain internal qualms ;
"and indeed whether it was Mr. Vardon or anybody
else, you aro much too young to fill your head with
such notions at your age. Of course, if somo really
good oiler had been made to you even in your first season
lltf STRANGE STOETES.
— sny Lord St. Ives or Sir Montanjnc — I don't say
it might not Imvo hvon prudent to accept it; Init
under ordinary circumstances, a giid docs best to think
as little as iiossiblo about such tliii)g-s until sho is twenty
at least. However, I hope in future you'll remembor
that I don't wish you to bo quite so familiar in your
intercourse with I\Ir. Vardon."
" Very well, mamuui," said Gladys quietly, drawing her-
self up ; " I have heard what you want to say, and I shall
try to do as you wisli. But I should liko to say some-
thing in return, if you'll bo so kind as to listen to mo."
"Certainly, darling,"' Lady Surrey answered, with a
vague foreboding of sometliing wrong.
" I don't say I care any moro for jMr. Vardon than for
anybody else ; I liaven't scon enough of him to know
whetlier I caro for him or not. But if ever I do caro for
anybody, it will bo for somebody like him, and not for
somebody liko Lord St. Ives or Monty Fit/roy. I don't
liko the men I meet in town ; they all talk to us as
if wo were dolls or babies. I don't want to marry a
man who says to himself, as Surrey says already, ' Ah,
I shall look out for some rich girl or other and make her
a countess, if slio's a good girl, and if sho suits me.' I'd
rather have a man like i\Ir. Vardon than any of the men
wc ever meet in London."
" But, my darling," said Lady Surrey', quite alarmed at
Gladys' too serious tone, " surely there aro gentlemen
quite as clover and quite as intellectual as i\[r. Vardon."
" ]\Iamraa ! " cried Gladys, rising, " do you mean to say
]\[r. Vardon is not a gentleman ? "
" Gladys, Gladys ! sit down, dear. Don't get so excited,
or course he is. I trust I havo as great a i-espect as any-
body for talent and culture. But what I meant to say
Avas this — can't j'ou find as much talent and culture among
people of our own station as — as among people of Mr.
Vai don's?"
AN El' ISO I) E IX man life. 117
*'No," said (Jladys sliortly.
" lic.'iily, my dear, you arc too liaixl upon tlio peerage."
" Well, mamma, can you mGulion any one that uc know
who is? " asked tho peremptory girL
" Not exactly in our own set," said Lady Surrey hesita-
tingly; "but surely there must ho some."
" I don't know them," Gladys replied quietly, " and till
I do know them, I shall remain of my own opinion still. If
you wish nio not to sec so much of Mr. Vartlon, I shall try
to do as you say; hut if I Imppen to like any particular
person, whether he's a puer or a pLjughhoy, I can't help
liking him, so thei'c's an end of it." And CJladys kissed
her mother demurely on tho forehead, and Avalked with a
atatoly sweep out of tho room.
"It's perfectly clear," said Lady Surrey to herself,
"that that girl's in lovo with Mr. Ycirdon, and what on
earth I'm to do about it is to me a mystery." And indeed
Lady Surrey's position was by no means an easy one.
On the one hand, she felt that whatever she herself, who
was a })e;son of mature years, might liappcn to do, it would
be positively wicked in her to allow a young girl like
Gladys to throw herself away on a man in Harry Yardon's
position. Without any sliadow of an arro-re jjensec, that
was her genuine feeling as a mother and a member of
society. But then, on the other hand, how could slio oppose
it, if she really ever thouglit herself, even conditionally,
of marrying Harry Yardon ? Could she endure that her
daughter should think she had acted as hor rival? Gould
she press the point about Harry's conventional disadvan-
tages, when she herself had some vague idea that if Harry
offered himself as Gladys' step-father, she would not bo
wholly disinclined to consider his proposal ? (?ould she
set it down as a crime in her daughter to form tho vcr^^
SLdf-same affection which she herself had woU-iiigh formed?
Moreover, she couldn't help feeling in her heart that Gladys
was right, after all; and that the daughter's dellanco of
118 STn.lXGE STORIES.
conventionality ^vas impliciily inherited from tlio motli6r.
If .she had met Harry Vardoii twenty years ago, she wouhl
liavo thought and spoken much like Ghidys ; in fact, though
she didn't speak, she thought so, very nearly, even now.
I am sorr}' that I am ohliged to write out these faint out-
lines of idfas in all the hrutal plainness of the English lan-
guage as spoken by men ; I cannot give all those fmo shades
of unspoken reservations and womanly self-decoptive sub-
terfuges by which the poor little countess half disguised
her own mcaiiing even from iierself ; but at least you will
not bo surprised to hear that in the end she lay down on
the little couch in the corner, covered her face Avith chagrin
and disappointment, and had a good cr}'. Then she got
up an hour later, washed her eyes carefully to take off the
redness, put on her pretty dove- coloured morning gown
with the lace trimming — she looked charming in lace —
and went down smiling to lunch, as pleasant and cheery
a little widow of thirty-seven as over you would wisli to
see. Upon my soul, Harry Vardon, I really almost think
you will be a fool if you don't finally marry the countess !
" Gladys," said little Lord tSurrey to his sister that
evening, when she came into his room on her Avay upstairs
to bed — "Gladys, it's my opinion you're getting too sweet
on this fellow Yardon."
"I shall bo obliged, Surrey, if j'^ou'll mind your own
business, and allow me to mind mine."
" Oh, it's no use coming the high and mighty over me, I
can tell you, so don't you try it on. Besides, I have some-
thing I want to speak to y< n about particularly. It's my
opinion also that my lady's doing the very same thing."
"What nonsense, Surrey!" cried Gladys, colouring up
to her eyebrows in a second : " how dare you say such a
thing about mamma?" But a light broke in upon her
suddenly all the same, and a number of little unnoticed
circumstances flashed back at once upon her memory witli
a fresh flood of meaning.
AX KVISOBE IN HIGH LIFE. U'J
*' Nonsense or not, it's true, I know ; and wliat I want to
say to YOU is this— If old Vardon s to many either of you,
it ouj^lit toLo you, because that would save mamma at any
rate Som making a fool of herself. As far as I'm concerned,
I'd rather neither (jf you did ; for I don't see why either
of you should want to marry a beggarly fellow of a tutor"
—Gladys' eyes flashed fire— " tdiough Vardon's a decent
enough chap in his way, if that was all ; but at any rate,
as one or other of you's cock-sure to do it, I don't want him
for a step-father. So you see, as far as that goes, I back
the filly. Now, say no more about it, but go to bed like a
good girl, and mind, whatever you do, you don't forget to
say your prayers. Good night, old girl."
" I wouldn't marry a fellow like Surrey," said Gladys to
herself, as she went upstairs, "no, not if he was the
premier duke of England ! "
For tho next three weeks there was snch a comedy of
errors and cross-purposes at Colyford Abbey as was never
seen before anywhere outside of one of IMr. Gilbert's clever
extravaganzas. Lady Surrey tried to keep Gladys in
every posbiblo way out of Harry's sight ; while her brother
tried in every possible way to throw them together.
Gladys on her part half avoided him, and yet grew some-
what more confidential than ever whenever she happened
to talk with him. Harry did not feel quite so much at
home as before with Lady Surrey ; he had an uncomfortable
sense that ho had failed to acquit himself as he ought to
have done ; while Lady Surrey had a half suspicion tliat
she had let him see her unfledged secret a little too early
and too openly. The natural consequence of all this was
that Harry was cast far more than before upon tho society
of Ethel ]\Iartindale, with whom he often strolled ab(nit
tho shrubbery till very close upon the dressing gong.
Ethel did not come down to dinner — she dined with tho
little ones at the family luncheon ; and that horrid galling
distinction cut Harry to the quick every night when he
120 STRANGE STORIES.
left Iicr to go in. Every clay, too, it began to dawn npon
him more clearly that the vagiio reason whi(;h had kept
liim hack from proposing to Lady Surrey on that eventful
night Avas just this — that Ethel Martindalo had made her-
self a certain vaeant niche in his unfurnishod heart. Sho
was a dear, quiet, unassuming little girl, but so very grace-
ful, so very tender, so very womanly, that slio crept into Ids
affections unawares without possibility of resistance. The
countess was a beautiful and accomplished woman of the
world, with a real heart left in her still, but not quite the
sort of tender, shrinking, girlish heart that Harry wanted.
Gladys was a lovely girl with stately manners and a
wonderfully formed character, but too great and too redolent
of society fur Harry. Tie admired them both, each in her
own way, but ho couldn't possibly have lived a lifetime
with cither. But Ethel, dear, meek, pretty, gentle little
Ethel — well, there, I'm not going to re^ieat for you all the
raptures that Harry went into over that perennial and
ever rejuvenescent theme. For, to toll you the truth,
about three weeks after the night when Harry did not pro-
pose to the countess, he actually did propose to Ethel
3Iartindalo. And Ethel, after many timid protests, after
much demure self-depreciation and declaration of utter
unworthiness for such a man — which made Harry wildwith
indignation — did finally lot him put her little hand to his
lips, and whispered a sort of broken and blushing " Yes."
What a fool ho had been, he thought that evening, to
suppose for half a second that Lady Surrey had ever meant
to regard him in any other light than as her son's tutor.
He hated himself for his own nonsensical vanity. "Who
was ho that ho should fancy all the women in England
were in love with him?
Next morning's Tlmo.s contained that curious announce-
ment about its being the intention of the Government to
appoint an electrician to the Admiralty, and inviting ap-
l)lications from distinguished men of science. Now Harry,
AN EPISODE IN HIGH LIFE. 121
youLj:; as ho was, had just porfoctccl his great system of
the doublcrovolving cominut;itor and hack-action rheostat
(ratcnt Office, No. 18,237,50-1:), and had sent in a paper
on tho subject which had been road with groat success
at tho Iioyal Society. The famous Pi'ofessor Brusegay
hini^-elf had describrd it as a remarkable invention, likely
to prove of immense practical importance to telegraphy
and electrical science generally. So when Harry saw
tho announcement that morning, ho made up his mind to
apply for tho appointment at once ; and ho thought that
if he got it, as the salary was a good one, ho miglit before
long marry Ethel, and yet manage to keep Edilh in tho
same comfort as before.
Lady Surrey t-aw the paragraph too, and had her own
ideas about what it might be made to do. It was tho very
opening that Harry wanted, and if he got it, wliy then no
doubt he might make tho proposal which he evidently lelt
afraid to make, jioor fellow, in his present position. So
yhe went into her boudoir immediately after breakfast, and
wrote two careful and cautiously worded little notes. One
was to Dr. Brusegay, whom she knew well, mentioning to
him that her son's tutor was the author of that remarkable
paper on commutators, and that she thought lie would
probably be admirably fitted for the post, but that on that
point the Professor himself was the best judge; the other
■was to her cousin, Lord Ardenleigh, who was a great man
in the government of the day, suggesting casually tliat ho
should look into thi3 claims of her frieiul, jMr. Vardon, for
this new place at the Admiralty. Two nicer little notes,
written with better tact and judgment, it would be difficult
to find.
At that very moment Harry was also sitting down in
liis own room, after five minutes' consultation with Ethel,
to make formal application for the new post. And after
lunch the same day he spoke to Lady Surrey upon tho
subject.
122 STRANGE STORIES.
" Thoro is Olio spocial reason," he said, " wliy I sliould
like to <!;et this post, and 1 think I ought to let yon know
it now." Poor little Lady Snrrey's heart flutten^d like a
girl's. " The fact is, I am anxions to ol)tain a jiosition.
which would enable me to marry." (" How very bluntly
he puts it," said the countess to herself.) " I ought to tell
you, I think, that I have proposed to Miss Martindale, and
she has accepted me."
Miss Martindale ! Great heavens, hoAV the room reeled
round the poor little Avoraan, as she stood with her hand
on the table, trying to bahmce herself, trying to conceal
her shame and mortification, trying to look as if the
announcement did not concern her in any way. Poor»
dear, good little countess ; from ni}'' heart I pity you. Miss
Martindale ! why, she had never even thought of her. A
mere governess, a nobody; and Harry Vardon, with his
magnificent intellect and splendid prospects, was going to
throw himself away on that girl ! She could hardly con-
trol herself to answer him, but with a great effort sho
gulped down her feelings, and remarked that Ethel Mar-
tindale was a very good girl, and would doubtless make an
admirable wife. And then she walked quietly out of the
room, stepped up the stairs somewhat faster, rushed into
her boudoir, double-locked the door, and burst into a perfect
flood of hot scalding tears. At that moment she began to
realize the fact that she had in truth liked Harry Vardon
much more than a little.
By-and-by she got up, went over to lier desk, took out
the two unposted notes, tore them into fragments, and
then carefully burnt them up piece by piece, in a perfect
holocaust of white paper. What a wicked vindictive
little countess ! Was sho going to spoil these two young
people's lives, to throw every possible obstacle in the way
of their marriage ? Not a bit of it. As soon as her eyes
allowed her, she sat down and wrote two more notes,
a groat deal stronger and better than before ; for this-
AX EPISODE IN UIGll LIFE. 12."/
time she need not fear tlio possiljility of after reflections
from an nnkiiul world. She said a great deal in a casnal
hidf-liinting fashion about Harry's merits, and remarked
npon tlio loss tliat she slionld sustain in the removal
of sueh a tutor from Lord Surrey; hut she felt that
sooner or later his talents must get him a higher reco"--
nition, and she hoped Dr. Brusegay and her cousin would
use their influence to obtain him the appointment. Then
sho went downstairs feeling like a Christian martyr,
kissed and congratulated Ethel, talked gaily about Barto-
lozzi to Harry, and tried to make believe that she tool:
the engagement as a matter of course. Nothing in fact,
as she remarked to Gladys, could possibly bo more
suitable. Gladys bit her tongue, and answered shortly
that she didn't herself perceive any special natural con-
gruity about the nuitch, but perhaps her mother was
better informed on the subject.
Now, wo all know that in the matter of public appoint-
ment anything lik<' backstairs influence or indirect
canvassing is positively fatal to the success of a candidate.
Accordingly-, it nu\Y surprise you to learn that when
Professor Brusegay (who held the appointment virtually
in his hands) opened his letters next morning he said
to his wife, "Why, Maria, that young fellow A'ardcm
who wrote that astonishingly clever paper on commu-
tators, you know, is tutor at Lady Surrey's, and she
wants him to get this place at the Admiralty. Wo must
really sec what we can do about it. Lady Surrey is such
a very useful person to know, and besides it's so im-
portant to keep on good terms with her, for the Paulsons
would be absolutely intolerable if we hadn't its acquaint-
ance in the peerage to play off against their Lord
Poodlebury." And when the Professor shortly after-
wards mentioned Harry's name to Lord Ardenleigh, his
lordship remarked immediately, " AVhy, bless my soul,
that's the very man Amelia wrote to mo about. Ho shall
]li4 STRANGE STOUIES.
have the place, by all means." And tliey both wrote
hack nice little notes to Lady Surrey, to say that she
might consider the matter settled, hut that she mustn't
inention it to Harry until the appointment was regularly
announced. Anything so remarkable in this age of purity
I for my part have seldom heard of.
Lady Surrey never did mention the matter to Harry
from that lUiy to this; and Sir Henry Yardon, K.C.B.,
does not for a moment imagine oven now that ho owes
his advancement to anything but his own native merits.
He married lOtlici shortly after, and a prettier or more
blushing bride you never saw. Lady Surrey has been
their best friend in society, and still sighs occasionally
when she sees Harry a great magnate in his way, and
thinks of the narrow escape he had that night at
Colyford. As to Gladys, she consistently refused several
promising heirs, at least twenty younger sons, and a score
or so of wealthy young men whose papas were something
in the City, her first live seasons; and then, to Lord
Surrey's Jiorror, she married a young Scotchman from
Glasgow, who was merely a writer for some London
paper, and had nothing on earth but a head on his
shoulders to bless himseli:' with. His lordship himself
"bagged an heiress" as ho expressively puts it, with
several thousands a year of her own, and is now one of
the most respected members of his party, who may be
counted upon always to vote straight, and never to have
any opinions of his own upon any subject except the
improvement of the British racehorse. He often wishes
Gladys had taken his advice and married Vardon, who
is at least in respectable society, instead of that shock-
headed Scotch fellow — but there, the girl was always full
of fancies, and never would behave like other people.
For myself, I am a horrid radical, and republican, and
all that sort of thing, and have a perfectly rabid hatred
of titles and so I'orth, don't you know? — but still, on the
^.v Erisoni: in utgu ltfj:. ilm
first (lay when Etliol went to call on the countess dowager
after Harry was knighted, I happened to bo present
(purely on hiisiness), and heard her duly announced as
" Lady Vardon : " and I give you my word of honoui'
I could not find it in my licart to grudgo the dear little
woman tho flush of pride that rose upon her cheek as
she entered tho room for tho lirst time in her new position.
It was a pleasure to mo (who know the wliole story) to
see Lady Surrey kiss the little ex-governess warmly on
her check and r y t(j her, " My dear Lady Yardon, I am
so glad, so very very glad." And I really believe she
meant it. After all, in spite of her little weakness, there
is a great deal of human nature left in the countess.
MY NEW YEAR'S EVE AMONG THE
MUMMIES,
I HAVE been a wanderer and a vagabond on the face of
tho earth for a good many years now, and I have certainly
Lad some odd adventures in my time; but I can assure
3'ou, I never spent twenty-four cpicercr hours than those I
which I passed somo twelve mouths since in tho great |
unopened Pyramid of Abu Yilla. -
The way I got there was itself a very strange one.
I had come to Egypt for a winter tour with the Fitz-
Simldnscs, to whoso daughter JCditha I was at that . »
precise moment engaged. You will probably remember
that old ritz-Simldns belonged originally to tho wealthy
firm of Simkinson and Stokoo, worshipful vintners ; but
when the seniur partner retired from tho business and
got his knighthood, the College of Heralds opportunely
discovered that his ancestors had changed their fine old
Norman name fur its li^nglisli equivalent some time about
the reign of King Kichard I. ; and they immediately
authorized tho old gentleman to resume the patronymic
and the armorial bearinG;s of his distinc;uished forefathers. '
It's really quite astonishing how often these curious
coincidences crop up at tho College of Heralds.
Of course it was a great catch for a landless and
briefless barrister like myself — dependent on a small
fortune in South American securities, and my precarious
MY M-W YEAn\<! i:VE AMOXG THE MUMMIES. 127
carni*nj:;s as a ^vl•itcr of biirlesqno — to secure such a
valuable prospective^ property as EJitlia Fitz-Siinlviiis.
To bo isurc, tUo girl was inulenialjly plain ; but I havo
known plainer girls than she was, whom forty thousand
pounds converted into ]\Iy Ladies : and if Ivlitlia liadii't
really fallen over head and ears in love with mo, I sup-
pose old rit/,-Simlcins would never have consented to sueli
a match. As it was, however, wo had flirted so openly
and 80 desperately during tho Scarborough season, that it
would liavo been dillicult for Sir Peter to break it oil":
and so I had como to Egypt on a tour of insuvanco to
(secure iny prize, following in tho wako of my future
mother-in-law, whoso lungs were supposed to require a
genial climate— though in my private opinion they ^^•ero
really as creditable a pair of pulmonary appendages as
ever drew breath.
Nevertheless, tho course of our true lovo did not run so
smoothly as might have been expected. Editlia found mo
less ardent than a devoted squire should be ; and on tho
very last night of the old year she got up a regulation
lovers' quarrel, because I had sneaked away from the boat
that afternoon, under the guidance of our dragoman, to
witness thi^ seductive performances of somo fair Ghawazi,
the dancing girls of a neighbouring town. How she
found it out heaven only knows, for I gave that rascal
Dimitri five piastres to hold his tongue : but she did find
it out somehow, and chose to regard it as an offence of the
first magnitude: a mortal sin only to be expiated by
three days of penance and humiliation.
I went to bed that night, in my hammock on deck,
Avith feelings far from satisfactory. Wo were moored
against the bank at Abu Yilla, the most pestiferous hole
between the cataracts and the Delta. Tho mosquitoes
were worse than the ordinary mosquitoes of Egypt, and
that is saying a great deal. Tho heat was oppressive
even at night, and the malaria from the lotus beds rose
12S FTiiAXi;!-: sTonrns.
like a palpaldo mist boforo my eyes. Al)Ovo all, I was
j:!;('ttiiiji; iloubti'iil wlictlior Editlia Fitz-Siiiikins init;lit not
jiftei' all slip 1>(;(avooii iny finders. I folt Avrotchod aiul
fovoiisli : and yet I had di li^litful intorhisivo rccoUcc-
ti(Jiis, in lirlwcon, of tliat lively littlo Gha/jyuli, who
danced that oxqnisilo, iitarvelluns, cntvanninfr, dolicioiiM,
and awfully oriental daneo that I saw in tho afternoon.
By .r(jve, sho vas a hoautlful creature. Eyes like two
full moons ; hair like ]\lilton's Penseroso ; moA'ements like
a poem of Swinhnrnc's set to action. If Editha was only
a faint i)ietMro of that j^irl now ! Upon my word, I was
fallinjj; in love with a Ghaziyah !
Then the mosrpiitoes camo again. Bnzz — buzz — buzz.
I make a lnn!2;o at tho loudest and bi,ii:gost, a sort of
prima donna in their infernal opera. I kill tho prima
donna, l)nt ton more shrill performers come in its place.
Tho fro<:;s croak dismally in tho reedy shallows. The
niglit grows hotter and hotter still. At last, I can stand
it no longer. I rise up, dress m\\solf lightly, and jump
ashore t(j iind some way of passing tho time.
Yonder, across tho flat, lies tho great unopened Pyramid
of Abu Yilla. AVe are going to-morrow to climb to tho
-fop ; but I will take a turn to reconnoitre in that
direction now. I walk across tho moonlit fields, ray soul
still divided between Editha and tho Ghaziyah, and
ai)proae]i tho solemn mass of huge, antiquated granite
blocks standing out so grimly against tho palo horizon.
I feel half awake, half asleep, and altogether feverish :
but I i)okc about tho base in an aimless sort of way, with
a vaguo idea that I may perhaps discover by chance the
secret of its scaled entrance, which has ero now baffled so
many pertinacious explorers and learned Egyptologists.
As I walk along tho base, I remember old Herodotus's
story, like a page from the " Arabian Nights," of how King
Khampsinitus built himself a treasury, wherein one stono
turned on a pivot like a door ; and how the builder availed
MY NEW YEAR'S EVE AMONG THE MEMMIES. 12'J
liirasc'lf of this his cnrmini; (lovico to steal cohl from tho
Icing's storehouse. Suppose tlio oiitraTico ta the unopeiuHl
Pyramid should ho by sncli a door. It wouhl ho curious
if I shouhl clianco to light upon tho very spot.
I stood in tho hroad moonlight, near the north-east anglo
of tho great pile, at tho twelfth stono from tlio corner. A
random fancy struck mo, that I might turn this stono hy
pushing it inward on tlio left side. I leant against it with
all my weight, and tried to move it on tho imaginary pivot.
Did it givo Avay a fraction of an inch? ISo, it must havo
been mcro fancy. Let mo try again. Surely it is yield-
ing! Gracious Osiris, it has moved an inch or more ! My
heart heats fast, either witli fovcr or cxcit'nuent, and I try
a third time. Tho rust of centuries on tho pivot wears
slowly off, and the stono turns ponderously round, giving
access to a low dark passage.
It must havo hccn madness which led mo to enter tho
forgotten corridor, alone, without toi'eh or match, at that
hour of tho evening; hut at any rato I entered. Tho
passage was tall enough for a man to walk erect, and I
could feci, as I groped slowly along, that the Avail was
composed of smooth polished granite, while tho floor sloped
away downward with a slight hut regular descent. I
walked with trembling heart and faltering feet for somo
forty or fifty yards down tho mysterious vestihulo : and
then I felt myself brought suddenly to a standstill hy a
"block of stono placed right across tho pathway. I had
had nearly enough for ono evening, and I was preparing
to return to the boat, agog with my now discovery, when
my attention was suddenly arrested by an incredible, a
perfectly miraculous fact.
The block of stone Avhich brred tho passage was faintly
visible as a square, by means of a struggling belt of light
streaming through the seams. There must be a lamp or
other flame burning within. What if this were a door like
the outer one, leading into a chamber perhaps inhabited
K
130 STRANGE STOIUES.
bj' some rlaiigorous "band of outcasts ? The light was a
sure evidence of human occupation : and yet the outer
door swung rnstily on its pivot as though it had never
heen opened for ages. I paused a moment in fear before I
ventured to try the stone : and then, urged on once moro
by some insane impulse, I turned the massive block with
all my might to the left. It gave way slowly like its
neighbour, and finally opened into the central hall.
Never as long as I livo shall I forget the ecstasy of terror,
astonishment, and blank dismay which seized upon mo
when I stepped into that seemingly enchanted chamber.
A blaze of light first burst upon my eyes, from jets of gas
arranged in regular rows tier above tier, upon the columns
and walls of the vast apartment. Huge pillars, richly
painted with red, yellow, blue, and green decorations,
stretched in endless succession down the dazzling aisles.
A floor of polished syenite reflected the splendour of the
lamps, and afforded a base for red granite sphinxes and
dark purple images in porphyry of the cat-faced goddess
Pasht, whose form I knew so well at the Louvre and the
British Museum. But I had no eyes for any of these lesser
marvels, being wholly absorbed in the greatest marvel of
all: for there, in royal state and with mitred head, a living
Egyptian king, surrounded by his coiffured court, was
banqueting in the flesh upon a real throne, before a table
laden with Memphian delicacies !
I stood transfixed with awe and amazement, my tongue ■
and my feet alike forgetting their office, and my brain
whirling round and round, as I remember it used to whirl
when my health broke down utterly at Cambridge after
the Classical Tripos. I gazed fixedly at the strange picture
before me, taking in all its details in a confused way, yet
quite incapable of understanding or realizing any part of
its true import. I saw the king in the centre of the hall,
raised on a throne of granite inlaid with gold and ivory ;
his head crowned with the peaked cap of Kameses, and his
MY NEW YEARS EVE AMONG TUE MUMMIES. 131
curled hair flowing down liis slionltlers in a set and formal
frizz. I saw priests and warriors on either iside, dressed
in the costumes which I had often carefully noted in our
£>;reat collections ; while bronze-skinned raa'tls, with liirht
garments round their waists, and limbs displayed in
graceful picturesquencss, waited upon them, half nude, as
in the wall paintings which we had lately examined at
Ivarnak and Syene. I saw the ladies, clothed from head
io foot in dyed linen garments, sitting apart in the back-
ground, ban(|ucting by themselves at a separate table ;
while dancing girls, like older representatives of my yester-
noon friends, the Ghawazi, tumbled before them iu strange
attitudes, to the music of four-stringed harps and long
straight pipes. In short, I beheld as in a dream the whole
drama of everyday Egyptian royal life, playing itself out
anew under my eyes, in its real original properties and
personages.
Gradually, as I looked, I became aware that my hosts
were no less surprised at the appearance of their anachro-
nistic guest than v\\as the guest himself at the strange
living panorama which met his eyes. In a moment music
and dancing ceased ; the banquet paused in its course, and
the king and his nobles stood up in undisguised astonish-
ment to survey the strange intruder.
Some minutes passed before any one moved forward en
either side. At last a young girl of royal appearance, yet
strangely resembling the Ghaziyah of Abu Yilla, and re-
calling in part the laughing maiden in the foreground of
Mr. Long's great canvas at the previous Academy, stepped
out before the throng.
" May I ask you," she said in Ancient Egyptian, ♦' who
you are, and why you come hither to disturb us ? "
I was never aware before that I spoke or understood the
language of the hieroglyphics : yet I found I had not the
slightest difficulty in comprehending or answering her
question. To say the truth, Ancient Egyptian, though an
132 STRANGE STORIES.
extremely ton<^h tongue to (Icciplicr iu its written form,
loccomes as easy as love-making Avhcn spoken by a pair of
lips like that Phnraonic princess's. It is joally very much
the same as English, pronounced in a lapid and some-
what indefinite whisper, and with all the vowels left out.
" I beg ten thousand pardons for my intrusion," I
answered apologetically ; " hut I did not know that this
Pyramid was inhaLitcd,or I should not have entered your
residence so rudely. As for the points you wish to know,
i am an English tourist, and you will find my name upon
this curd ; " saying which I handed her one from the case
which I liad fortuna. ly put into my pocket, with con-
ciliatory politeness. The princess examined it closely, "but
evidently did not understand its import.
"In return," I continued, "may I ask you in what
august presence I now find myself by accident?"
A court official stood fortli from the throng, and answered
in a set heraldic tone : "■ In the presence of tho illustrious
monarch, Brotiier of the Sun, Tlioihmes tho Twenty-
seventh, king of tho Eighteenth Dynasty."
" Salute tho Lord of tlie World," put in another oflScial
in the same regulation drone.
I bowed low to his Majesty, and stepped out into the
hall. Apparently my obeisance did not come up to Egyp-
tian standards of courtes}-, for a suppressed titter broke
audibly from the ranks of bronze-skinned waiting-women.
But the king graciously smiled at my attempt, and turning
to tho nearest nobleman, observed in a voice of great
sweetness and self contained majesty : " This stranger,
Ombos, is certainly a very curious person. Ilis appear-
ance does not at all resemble that of an Ethiopian or other
savage, nor does he look liko the pale-faced sailors who
come to us from tho Achaian land beyond tho sea. His
features, to bo sure, are not very different from theirs ; but
his eictraordinary and singularly inartistic dress shows
him to belong to some other barbaric race."
MY NEV/ YEAR'S EVE AMONG THE MUmiJES. 133
I glanced down at my waistcoat, and saw tin'- I was
wearing my tourist's clicck suit, of grey and mud colonr,
with which a Bond Street t;iilor had Kii[»plied nio just
before leaving town, as the latest thing out in fancy tweeds.
Evidently these Egyptians must havo a very eurious
standard of tasto not to admire our jiietty and graceful
style of male attire.
*' If the dust beneath your Majesty's feet may venture
upon a suggestion," put in the ofiicer whom the king had
addressed, "I would hint that this young man is probably
a stray visitor from the utterly uncivilized lands of the
North. The headgear wln'ch ho carries in his hand
obviously betrays an Arctic habitat."
I had instinctively taken olf my round felt hat in the
first moment of surprise, when I found myself in the
midst of this strange throng, and I standing now in a
somewhat embarrassed posture, holding it awkwardly before
me like a shield to protect my chest.
" Let the stranger cover himself," said the king.
" Barbarian intruder, cover yourself," cried the herald.
I noticed througliout that the king never directly addressed
anybody save the higher ofiicials around him.
I put on my hat as desired. " A most uncomfortable
and silly form of tiara indeed," said the great Thothmes.
" Very unlike your noble and awe-spiring mitre, Liou
of Egypt," answered Ombos.
" Ask the stranger his name," the king continued.
It was useless to offer another card, so I mentioned it in
a clear voice.
" An uncouth and almost unpronounceable designation
truly," commented his Majesty to the Grand Chamberlaia
beside him. "These savages speak strange languages,
widely different from the flowing tongue of Memnon and
►Sesustris."
The chamberlain bowed his assent with three low genu-
flexions. I began to feel a little abashed at these personal
134 STRANGE STOIilES.
remarks, and I almost think (though I shouldn't like it to
Ido mentioned in tho Tempk^) that a hlush rose to my
chock.
Tho beautiful princess, who had been standing near me
moanwhilo in an attitude of statuesque repose, now ap-
]Deared anxious to change tho current of tho conversation.
" Dear father," she said with a respectful inclination,
" surely the stranger, barbarian though ho be, cannot
relish such pointed allusions to his person and costume.
AVo must let liim feel tho grace rnd delicacy of Egyptian
refinement. Then he may perhaps carry back with him
some faint echo of its cultured beauty to his northern
•wilds."
*' Nonsense, Ilatasou," replied Thothraes XXVII. testily.
" Savages have no feelings, and they are as incapable of
appreciating Egyptian sensibility as the chattering crow
is incapable of attaining the dignified reserve of the sacred
crocodile."
Vour Majesty is mistaken," I said, recovering my self-
possession gradually and realizing mj^ position as a free-
born Englishman before the court of a foreign despot —
though I must allow that I felt rather less confident than
iisual, owing to the fact that we were not represented in
tho Pyramid b}'' a British Consul — *'I am an English
tourist, a visitor from a modern land Avhoso civilization
far surpasses the rude culture of early Egypt ; and I am
accustomed to respectful treatment from all other nation-
alities, as becomes a citizen of the First Naval Power in
tho World."
My answer created a profound impression. " He has
spoken to the Brother of the Sun," cried Ombos in evident
perturbation. "He must be of the Blood Koyal in his
own tribe, or he would never have dared to do so ! "
" Otherwise," added a person whoso dress I recognized
as that of a priest, " he must be oflered up in expiation to
Amon-Ra immediately."
3IY NEW YEARS EVE AMONG TUE 3IUMMIES. 135
As a nilo I am a decently trutliful person, but under
these alarming circumstances I ventured to tell a slight
fib with an air of nonchalant boldness. " 1 am a younger
brother of our reigning king," I said without a moment's
hesitation ; for there was nobody present to gainsay me,
and I tried to salvo my conscience by reflecting that at
any rate I was only claiming consanguinity witk an
imaginary personage.
•' In that case," said King Thothmes, with more geniality
in his tone, *' there can be no impropriety in my address-
ing you personally. Will you take a xdaco at our tablo
next to myself, and we can converse together without
interrupting a banquet which must bo brief enough in any
circumstances? Ilatasou, my dear, you may seat yourself
next to the barbarian prince."
I felt a visible swelling to the proper dimensions of a
Pioyal Highness as I sat down by the king's right hand.
The nobles resumed their places, the bronze-skinned
waitresses left off standing liko soldiers in a row and
staring straight at my humble self, the goldots went
round once more, and a comely maid soon brought mo
meat, bread, fruits, and date wine.
All this time I was naturally burning with curiosity to
inquire who my strange hosts might be, and how they
had preserved their existence for so many centuries in this
undiscovered hall ; but I was obliged to wait until I had
satisfied his Majesty of my own nationality, the means by
which 1 had entered the Pyramid, the general state of
affairs throughout the world at the present moment, and
fifty thousand other matters of a similar sort. Thothmes
utterly refused to believe my reiterated assertion that our
existing civilization was far superior to the Egyptian ;
"because," said ho, "I sec from your dress that your
nation is utterly devoid of taste or invention ; " but ho
listened with great interest to my account of modern,
society, the steam-engine, the Permissive Prohibitory Bill,
186 STUANGE STOlilES.
tlic telegraph, tlic House of Commons, TTome Rule, anil
the other blessings of our advanced era, as well as to a
"brief resume of European history from the rise of the Greek
culture to the liusso-Tuikish war. At last his questions
were nearly exhausted, and I got a chance of making a
few counter inquiries on my own account.
" And now," I said, turning to the charming ITatasou,
whom I thought a more pleasing informant than her
august papa, " I should like to know who you are."
" What, don't you know ? " she cried with unafiecteu
surprise. " Why, we're mummies."
She made this astounding statement with just the same
quiet unconsciousness as if she had said, "■ we're French,"
or " we're Americans." I glanced round the walls, and
ohserved behind the columns, what I had not noticed till
then — a largo number of empty mummy-cases, with their
lids placed carelessly by their sides.
" But what arc you doing hero ? " I asked in a bewildered
way.
*' Is it possible," said Ilatasou, " that you don't really
know the object of embalming? Though your manners
show you to bo an agreeable and well-bred young man,
you must excuse my saying that you are shockingly igno-
rant. We arc made into mummies in order to preserve our
immortality. Onco in every thousand years we wake up
for twenty-four hours, recover our flesh and blood, and
banquet onco more upon the mummied dishes and other
good things laid by for us in the Pyramid. To-day is the
first day of a millennium, and so we havo waked up for
the sixth time since wo were first embalmed."
" The sixth time ? " I inquired incredulously. " Then
you must have been dead six thousand years."
" Exactly so."
*' But the world has not yet existed so long," I cried, in
a fervour of orthodox horror.
*' Excuse mo, barbarian prince. This is the first
MY NEW YEAIl'S EVE AMONG TUE MUMMIES. 137
(lay of the tlireo huudrcd aud tweiity-tjeveu tliousandth
millennium."
My orthodoxy received a severe shock. However, I
had been accustomed to geological Ciilculutions, and was
somewhat inclined to accept the antiquity of man ; so I
swallowed the statement without more ado. Besides, if
such a charming girl as Hatasou had asked mo at that
moment to turn Mohammedan, or to worship Osiris, I
believe I should incontinently have done so.
" You wake up only for a single day and night, then ? "
I said.
" Only for a single day and night. After that, we go
to sleep for another millennium."
" Unless you are meanwhile burned as fuel on the Cairo
Eailway," I added mentally. " But how," I continued
aloud, " do you get these lights ? "
" The Pyramid is built above a spring of inflammable
gas. We have a reservoir in one of the side chambers in
which it collects during the thousand years. As soon as
we awake, we turn it on at once from the tap, and light it
•with a lucifer match."
" Upon my word," I interposed, " I had no notion you
Ancient Egyptians were acquainted with the use of
matches."
" Very likely not. ' There are more things in heaven
and earth, Cephrenes, than are dreamt of in your philo-
sophy,' as the bard of Phiko puts it."
Further inquiries brought out all the secrets of that
strange tomb-house, and kept mo fally interested till the
close of the banquet. Then the chief priest solemnly
rose, offered a small fragment of meat to a deified croco-
dile, who sat in a meditative manner by the side of hi.s
deserted mummy-case, and declared the feast concluded
for the night. All rose from their places, wandered
away into the long corridors or side-aisles, and formed
little groups of talkers under the brilliant gas-lamps.
188 STRANGE STORIES.
For my part, I. strolled off with Ilatasou down tho
least illuminated of the colonnades, and to(^k my seat
Reside a marLlo fountain, whei-e several fisli (gods of
great sanctity, Ilatasou assured mo) were disporting
themselves in a porphyry basin. How long we sat there
I cannot toll, but I know that wo talked a good- deal
about fi^h, and gods, and Egyptian habits, and Egyptian
philosophy, and, abovo all, Egyptian love-making. Tho
last-named subject wo found very interesting, and when
once wo got fully started upon it, no diversion afterwards
occurred to break tho even tenour of tho conversation.
Ilatasou was a lovely figure, tall, queenly, with smooth
dark arms and neck of polished bronze: her big black
eyes full of tenderness, and her long hair bound up into
a bright Egyptian headdress, that harmonized to a tone
with her complexion and her robe. The more we talked,
the more desperately did I fall in love, and tho more
utterly oblivious did I become of my duty to Edith a
Eitz-Simkins. Tho mere ugly daughter of a rich and
vulgar brand-now knight, forsooth, to show off her airs
before me, when hero was a Princess of the Blood Eoyal
of Egypt, obviously sensible to tho attentions which I was
paying her, and not unwilling to receive them with a coy
and modest grace.
Well, I went on saying pretty things to Platasou, and
Ilatasou went on deprecating them in a pretty little way,
as who should say, " I don't mean what I pretend to
mean one bit ; " until at last I may confess that we were
both evidently as far gone in tho disease of the heart
called love as it is possible for two young people on first
acquaintance to become. Therefore, when Hatasou pulled
forth her watch — another piece of mechanism with which
antiquaries used never to credit the Egyptian people — and
declared that she had only three more hours to live, at
least for the next thousand years, I fairly broke down, took
out my handkerchief, and began to sob like a child of five
years old. .
31 Y ^EW YE AW::; EVE AMONG THE MUMMIES. l?>0
Hatasou was clcoply moved. Doconim forbade that slio
should console mo with too much cmp-essemcnt ; \mt she
ventured to remove tlio handkerchief gently from my face,
and suggested tliat there was yet one course oi)en by
which wo might enjoy a little more of one another's
.society. " Suppose," she said quietly, " you were to
become a mummy. You would then wake up, as wo do,
every thousand years ; and after you have tried it onco,
you will find it just as natural to sleep for a millennium
as for eight hours. Of course," she added witli a slight
blush, " during the next three or four solar cycles there
would be plenty of time to conchulc any other arran^-e-
ments you might possibly contemplate, before the occur-
rence of another glacial epoch."
This mode of regarding time was certainly novel and
somewhat bewildering to people who ordinarily reckon its
lapse by weeks and months ; and I had a vague conscious-
ness that my relations with Editha imposed upon me a
moral necessity of returning to the outer world, instead of
becoming a millennial mummy. Besides, there was tho
awkward chance of being converted into fuel and dissi-
pated into space before tho arrival of the next wakin<^
day. But I took one look at Hatasou, whose eyes were
filling in turn with sympathetic tears, and that look
decided me. I flung Editha, life, and duty to tho dogs,
and resolved at once to become a mummy.
There was no timo to bo lost. Only three hours
remained to us, and tho process of embalming, even in
the most hasty manner, would take up fully two. Wo
rushed off to the chief priest, who had charge of tho par-
ticular department in question. He at onco acceded to
my wishes, and briefly explained the mode in which they
usually treated the corpse.
That word suddenly aroused me. " The corpse ! " I
cried ; " but I am alive. You can't embalm me living."
" We can," replied tho priest, "under chloroforra."°
J40 STRANGE STOJIIES.
" Clilorororin ! " I echoed, gro\viii<]; more and more as-
toiiiHlicd : " I had no idea you Egyptians know anything
about it."
" Ignorant harharian ! " he answered with a curl of the
lip ; " you imagine yourself much wiser than the teachers
of the world. If you were verged in all the wisdom of
tho Egyptians, you would know that chloroform is one of
our simplest and commonest ana}sthctics."
I put myself at once under tho hands of the priest. Ho
brought out the chloroform, and placed it beneath my
nostrils, as I lay on a soft couch under the central court.
Ilatasou held my hand in hers, and watched my breathing
with an anxious eye. I saw the priest leaning over me,
with a clouded phial in his hand, and I experienced a
vague sensation of smelling myrrh and spikenard. Next,
I lost myself for a few moments, and when 1 again re-
covered my senses in a temporary break, tho priest was
holding a f-mall greenstone knife, dabbled with blood, and
1 felt that a gash had been made across my breast. Then
they applied tho chloroform once more; I felt Hatasou
give my hand a gentle squeeze; tho whole i%anorama
faded finally from my view ; and I went to sleep for a
seemingly endless time.
When I awoke again, my first impression led me to
believe that tho thousand years were over, and that I had
come to life once more to least with Ilatasou and Thothmes
in the Pyramid of Abu Yilla. But second thoughts, com-
bined with closer observation ^f tho surroandings, con-
vinced mo that I was really lying in a bedroom of
Shepheard's Hotel at Cairo. An hospital nurse leant over
me, instead of a chief priest ; and I noticed no tokens of
Editha Fitz-Simkins's presence. But when I endeavoured
to make inquiries upon tho subject of my whereabouts,
I was perenqitorily informed that I mustn't speak, as I
was only just recovering from a severe fever, and might
endanger my life by talking.
MY NEW YEAR'S EVE AMOXG THE MUMMIES. Ill
Somo weeks later I learned the sequel of my night's
adventure. Tlio Fit>c-Sinikinses, niissinu; mo from tlio
bout in the morninp;, at first imagined that 1 might have
gone ashore for an early istroll. lint aftur hreakfast time,
lunch time, and dinner time had gone past, they l)egan to
grow alarmed, and sent to look for mo in all direetions.
Ono of their scouts, happening to pass the Pyramid, noticed
that ono of tho stones near the north-east angle had heen
displaced, so as to givo access to a dark passage, hitherto
unknown. Calling seve]-al of his friends, for ho was
afraid to venture in alone, ho passed down tho corridor,
and through a second gateway into tho central hall.
There the Fellahin found me, lying on the ground, bleeding
profusely from a wound on tho breast, and in an advanced
stage of malarious fever. They brought me back to tho
boat, and tho Fit^-Simkinses conveyed mo at once to
Cairo, for medical attendanco and proper nursing.
Editha was at first convinced that I had attempted to
commit suicide because I could not endure having caused
her pain, and she accordhigly resolved to tend mo with
tho utmost care through my illness. But she found that
my delirious remarks, besides bearing frequent reference
to a princess, with whom I appeared to have l)een on
unexpeet'jdly intimate terms, also related very largely to
our casus belli itself, tho dancing girls of Abu Yilla. Even
this trial she might have l)orne, setting down the moral
degeneracy which led me to patronize so degrading an
exhibition as a first symptom of ray approaching malady :
but certain unfortunate observations, containing pointed
and by no means flattering allusions to her personal
appearance — which I contrasted, much to her disadvan-
tage, with that of the unknown princess — these, I say,
were things which sho could not forgive; and she left
Cairo abruptly with her parents for the Eiviera, leaving
behind a stinging note, in Avhich sho denounced my
perfidy and empty-heartedness with all the flowers of
142 STRANiJI': STOltlKS.
feminino eloquence. From that tlay to this I have never
seen her.
"VVlicn I roturned to Londrm and proposed to lay tliis
account hcforo the Society of Anti(]uarie.s, all n»y friends
difisuadod nio on the ground of its a})parent incredibility.
Tlicy dcclaro that 1 must have gone to the I'yramid
already in a .state of delirium, discovered the entrance by
accident, and sunk exliaustcd when I reached the inner
chamber. In answer, I would point out three facts. In
tko first place, I undoubtedly found my way into tho
unknown passa<^e — for which achievement I aft';rwards
received the gt)ld medal of the Societo Khcdiviale, and of
which I retain a clear recollection, dillering in no way
from my recollection of tho subsecpient events. In tho
second place, I had in my pocket, when fouiid, a ring of
Ilatasou's, which I drew from her finger just before I took
tho chloroform, and put into my pocket as a keepsake.
And in the third place, I had on my breast the wound
which I saw the priest inflict with a knife of greenstone,
and tho scar may be seen on the spot to the present day.
The absurd hypothesis of my medical friends, that I was
wounded by falling against a sharp edge of it ok, I must
at once reject as unworthy a moment's consideration.
My own theory is either that the priest had not time to
complete the operation, or else that the arrival of the
Fitz-Simkins' scouts frightened back the mummies to
their cases an hour or so too soon. At any rate, there
they all were, ranged around the walls undisturbed, tho
moment the Fellahin entered.
Unfortunately, the truth of my account cannot bo
tested for another thousand years. But as a copy of this
book will be preserved for the benefit of posterity in
the British Museum, I hereby solemnly call upon Col-
lective Humanity to try the veracity of this history
by sending a deputation of archaeologists to the Pyramid
of Abu Yilla, on the last day of December, Two thousand
MY Ni:w YKiirS EVE AMONG THE MUMMIES. 113
oiglit liundrctl and seventy-sovcn. If tlioy do not then
find Thotliiacs tuid Hatasoii feasting v\ tho central Jmll
exactly as I have described, I shall wilUn-ly admit that
thoKtory of iny New Year's Evo amon- the Mnniinies is
a vain hallucination, nnwurthy of credence at the hands
of the scientific world.
THE FOUNDERING OF THE
'^FORTUNAr
I.
I AM going to spin yon tho yarn of the fonndoring of tlio
Fortnna exactly as an old lake captain on a Huron steamer
once span it for mo by Great Manitoiilin Island. It is a
strange and a weird story; and if I can't give you the dialect
in whicli lie told it, yon must forgive an Knglisli tongue
its native accent for the sake of tho cnrions Yankee tale
that nnderlics it.
Captain Montague Bcrcsford Ticrpoint was hardly the
sort of man yon would have expected to find behind the
connter of a small shanty bank at Aylmer's Pike, Colorado.
There was an engaging English frankness, an obvious
honesty and refinement of manner about him, which suited
very oddly witli tho rough habits and rougher ivcstem
speech of the mining popnlation in whose midst ho il/ed.
And yet, Captain Tierpoint had succeeded in gaining the
confidence and lespecfc of those strange outcasts of civil-
ization by some indesci'ibable charm of address and some
invisible talisman of qniet good-fellowship, which caused
him to be more universally believed in than any other
man whatsoever at Aylmer's Pike. Indeed, to say so much
is rather to underrate tho uniqueness of his position; for
it might, perhaps, bo truer to say that Captain Pierpoint
Tni: Fouynj-Rixcr of the 'tortuna:' ii:.
was tho only man in tlio placo in whom any one Tx-licved
at all in any way. Ifo was an honest-spoken, qniot, nn-
ohtrnsivo sort of man, who wallceil al)Out fearlessly without
a revolver, and never u^ambled cither in mining sh.ares or
at poker; so that, to the simple-minded, unsophisticated
rogues and vagabonds of Aylmcr's Pike, ho seemed tho
very incarnation of incorruptible commercial honour.
They would have trusted all their earnings and winnings
without hesitation to Captain- Picvpoint's bare word ; and
when tlicy did so, they knew that Captain Pierpoint had
always had tho money forthcoming, on demand, without a
moment's delay or a single prevarication.
Captain Pierpoint walked very straight and erect, as
becomes a man of conspicuous uprightness ; and there was
a certain tinge of military bearing in his manner -which
seemed at first sight sufliciently to justify his ])!)pu]ar title.
But ho himself made no false pretences upon that head ;
he freely acknowledged that ho had acquired the position
of captain, not in her Britannic Majesty's Guards, as tho
gossip of Aylmer's Pike sometimes asserted, but in tho
course of his earlier professi<mal engagements as skipper
of a Lake Superior grain- vessel. Though ho hinted at
times that he was by no means distantly connected with
the three distinguished families whoso names he bore, ho
did not attempt to exalt his rank or birth unduly, ad-
mitting that ho was only a Canadian sailor by trade,
thrown by a series of singular circumstances into the
position of a Colorado banker. Tho one thing ho really
understood, ho would tell his mining friends, was tho
grain-trade on tho upper lakes ; for finance he had but a
single recommendation, and that »vas that if people trusted
him he could never deceive them.
If any man had set up a bank in Aylmer's Point with
an iron strong-room, a lot of electric bells, and an obtrusive
display of fire-arms and weapons, it is tolerably certain
that that bank would havo been promptly robbed and
L
H6 STRANGE STORIES.
gutted within its first week of existenco by open violence.
Five or six of the boys would have banded themselves
together into a body of housebreakers, and would have
shot down the banker and burst into his strong-room,
without tliought of the electric bells or other feeble re-
sources of civilization to that end appointed. But when
a quiet, unobtrusive, bravo man, like Captain Montague
Pierpoint, settled himself in a shanty in their midst, and
won their confidence by his straightforward honesty,
scarcely a miner in the lot would ever have dreamt of
attempting to rob him. Captain Pierpoint had not come
to Aylmer's Pike at first witli any settled idea of making
himself the financier of the rough little community ; ho
intended to dig on his own account, and the rule of banker
was only slowly thrust upon him by the unanimous voice
of the whole diggings. He had begun by lending men
money out of his own pocket — men who ■were unlucky in
their claims, men who had lost everything at monte, men
who had come penniless to the Pike, and expected to find
silver growing freely and openly on the surface. He had
lent to them in a friendly Avay, without interest, and had
been forced to accept a small present, in addition to the
sum advanced, when the tide began to turn, and luck at
last led the penniless ones to a remunerative plncer or
pocket. Gradually the diggers got into the habit of re-
garding this as Captain Pierpoint's natural function, and
Captain Pierpoint, being himself but an indifferent digger,
acquiesced so readily that at last, yielding to tlio per-
suasion of his clients, ho put up a wooden counter, and
painted over his rough door tlie magnificent notice, " Ayl-
mer's Pike Bank : Montague Pierpoint, Manager." Ho
got a largo iron safe from Carson Cit}', and in tliat safe,
Avhich stood by his own bedside, all the silver and other
securities of the whole village were duly deposited. "Any
one of the boys could easily shoot me and open tliat safe
any uight," Captain Pierpoint used to say pleasantly ;
TIIL: FOUNDEBING OF THE " FOETUNA:' 147
"but if ho did, hy Gcorpjc ! ho'dliavo to reckon afterwards
with every man on tlio Piko ; and I shonUl bo sorry to
stand in his shoes — that I wonhl, any time." Indeed, tho
entire Pike looked upon Captain Piei point's safe as " Our
Bank ; " and, united in a single iront by that simple social
contract, tliey agreed to respect tho safe as a sacred object,
protected by tlie collective guarantee of three hundred
mutually suspicious revolver-bearing outcasts.
However, even at Aylmer's Pike, there were degrees
and stages of comparative unscriipulousness. Two men,
]iow-comers to the Pike, by name Hiram CofTiu and Peto
Morris, at last wickedly and feloniously conspired together
to rob Captain Pierpoint's bank. Their plan was sim-
plicity itself. They would go at midnight, very quietly,
to the Captain's house, cut his throat as ho slept, rob the
precious safe, and ride olf straight for the east, thus getting
a clear night's start of any possible pursuer. It was an
easy enough thing to 'do ; and they were really surprised
in their own minds that nobody else had ever been cute
onougli to seize upon such an obvious and excellent path
to wealtli and security.
The day before the niglit tho two burglars had fixed
upon for their enterprise, Captain Pierpuint himself ap-
peared to bo in unusual spirits. Peto Morris called in at
the bank during tho course of the morning, to reconnoitre
the premises, under pretence of paying in a few dollars'
^\-orth of silver, and he found tho Captain very livelj''
indeed. When Peto handed him the silver across tho
counter, the Captain weighed it with a smile, gave a
receipt for tho amount — ho always gave receipts as a
matter of form — and actually invited Pete into tho little
back room, which was at once kitchen, bedroom, and
parlour, to have a drink. Then, before Pete's very eyes,
ho opened tho safe, bursting with papers, and placed tho
silver in a bag on a shelf by itself, sticking tho key into
his waistcoat pocket. " lie is delivering himself up into
148 STRANGE STOVJES.
onr hands," thouL^lit Pcto to liimsclf, as tlio Capt liu poured
out two glasses of old DourLuu, and liandod ono to tlio
miner ojjpOsito. "Hero's success to all our enterprises !"
cried the Captain gaily. "Here's success, jmrd ! " Pete
answered, with a sinister look, which even the Captain
could not help noting in a sidelong fashion.
That niglit, about two o'clock, when all Aylmcr's
Pike was quietly dreaming its own sordid, drunken
dreams, two sober men rose up from their cabin and
stole out softly to the wooden bank house. Two horses
were ready saddled with Mexican saddle-bags, and tied
to a tree outside the digging, and in half aii hour Pete
and Hiram hoped to find themselves in full possession of
all Captain Pierpoint's securities, and well on their
road towards the nearest station of the Pacific Kailway.
They groped along to the door of the bank shanty, and
began fumbling with their wire picks at the rougli look.
After a moment's exploration of the wards, Pete Morris
drew back in surprise.
" Pard," ho murmured in a low whisper, " here's suthin'
.rather extraordinary ; this 'ere lock's not fastened."
They turned tho handle gently, and found that the
door opened without an effort. Both men looked at one
another in the dim light incredulously. Was there ever
such a simple, trnstfnl fool as that fellow Pier|)oint ! He
actually slept in the bank shanty with his outer door
unfastened !
The two robbers passed through tlio outer room and
into the littlo back bedroom-parlour. Hiram held tho
dark lantern, and turned it full on to the bed. To their
immense astonishment they found it empt3^
Their first impulse was to suppose that tho Captain had
somehow anticipated their coming, and had gone out to
rouse the boys. For a moment they almost contemplated
running away, without the money. But a second glance
reassured them ; tho bed had not been slept in. The
THE FOUyDEIlIXG OF THE '^ FOUTUNA:'- 149
€aptain was a man of very regular habits. Tie made his
hed in civili/.cd fashion every morning; after broakfiist,
and ho retired every evening at a little after eleven.
Where ho could he stopping .so late they couldn't imagire.
But they hadn't como there to make a study of the
Captain's personal habits, and, as he was a^vay, the best
thing they could do was to open the safe immediately,
before ho came back. Tlicj' weren't particular about
murder, Peto and Hiram ; still, if you coidd do your
robbery without bloodshed, it was certainly all the better
to do it so.
Hiram held tho lantern, carefully shaded by his hand,
towards the door of the safe. Pete looked cautiously at
tho lock, and began pushing it about with his wire pick ;
he had hoped to get the key out of Captain Pierpoint's
pocket, but as that easy scheme was so unexpectedly
foiled, ho trusted to his slcill in picking t;) force the lock
open. Once more a fresh surpriso awaited him. The
door opened almost of its own accord ! Pete looked at
Hiram, and Hiram looked at Pete. There was no mis-
taking the strange fact that met their gazo — tho safe was
omptj'' !
" What on airth do you suppose is the meaning of this,
Peto ? " Hiram whispered hoarsely. But Pete did not
whisper ; the whole truth flashed upon him in a moment,
and he answered aloud, with a string of oaths, " The
Cap'n has gone and made tracks hissolf for Madison
Depot. And he's taken every red cent in the safe along
with him, too! tho mean, low, dirty scoundrel! He's
taken even my silver that he give mo a receipt for this
very morning ! "
Hiram stared at Pete in blank amazement. That such
base treachery could exist on earth almost surpassed his
powers of comprehension; ho could understand that a
man should rob and murder, simply and naturally, as
he was prepared to do, out of pure, guileless depravity of
150 STIiANGE STOniES.
heart, but that a man sliould plan and plot for a couple of
years to impose upon the simplicity of a dislionest com-
munity by a consistent show of respectability, with the
ultimate object of stealirio- its Avliole wealth at one fell
swoop, was scarcely within the limits of his narrow
intelligence, lie stared blankly at the empty safe, and
whispered onco more to Pete in a timid undertone, " Per-
haps he's got wind of this, and took off the plate to some-
body else's hut. If the boys was to come and catch us
here, it 'ud bo derned awk^vard for you an' me, Pete."
But Pete answered gruIlJy and loudly, " Never you mind
about the ])late, pard. The Cap'n's gone, and the plate's
gone with him ; and Avhat we've got to do now is to rouso
the boys and ride after him like greased liglitnin'. The
mean swindler, to go and swindle me out of the silver
that I've been and dug out of that there claim yonder
with my own j)ick!" For the s^ense of personal injustice
to one's self rises perennially in the human breast, however
depraved, and the man Avho would murder another
without a scruple is always genuinely aghast with just
indignation when ho iiiids the counsel for the prosecution
pressing a point against him with what seems to him
unfair persistency.
Pete Hung his lock-pick out among the agave scrub that
faced the bank shanty and ran out wildly into the midst
of the dusty white road that led down the row of huts
which the people of Aylmer's Pike euphemistically de-
scribed as the Main Street. There he raised such an
unearthly whoop as roused the sleepers in the nearest huts
to turn over in their beds and listen in wonder, with a
vague idea that " the Injuns " were coming down on a
scalping-trail upon the diggings. Next, he hurried down
the street, beating heavily with his fist on every frame
door, and kicking hard at the log walls of the successive
shanties. In a few minutes the whole Pike was out and
alive. Unwholesome-looking men, in unwashed flannel
TIIIJ FOUND EEIXG OF Till: '' FOnTUXA." IHl
shirts and loose trousers, mostly barefooted in their haste,
came forth to inquire, with an unnecessary -wealth of
expletives, what the soniethinf^ was stirring. I'ete,
hroathless and wrathful in the midst, livid with rage and
disappointment, could only shriek aloud, " Cap'n Picrpoint
has cleared out of camp, and taken all th(.^ plate with
him ! " There was at llrst an incredulous shouting and
cryhig; tlicn a general stampede towards the bank shant}';
and, linally, as the truth became apparent to everybody,
a deep and angry howl for vengeance on the traitcr.
In ono moment Captain rierj)oint's smooth-faced villany
dawned as clear as day to all Aylmer's Pike; and tho
whole chorus of gamblers, rascals, and Idacklegs stood
awe-struck with horror and indignation at the more
plausible regno who had succeeded in swindling even
them. Tho clean-washed, white-shirted, fair-spoken
A'illain ! they would have his blood for this, if the United
States Marslial had every mother's son of them strung
up in a row for it after tho pesky business was onco
fairly over.
Nobody inquired how Pete and Hiram came by tho
news. Nobody asked how they had happened to notice
that the shanty was empty and the safe rifled. All
they thought of Avas how to catch and punish tho
public robber. Ho must have made for the nearest
depot, Madison Clearing, on the Union Pacific Line, and
he would take the first cars east for St. Louis — tha
was certain. Every horse in tho Pike was promptly
requisitioned by the fastest riders, and a rough cavalcade,
revolvers in hand, made down the gulch and across tho
plain, full tilt to Madison. But when, in the garish blazo
of early morning, they reached tho white wooden depot
in the valley and asked the ticket-clerk whether a man
answering to their description had gone on by the cast
mail at 4.30, tho ticket-clerk swore, in reply, that not
a soul had left the depot by any train either way that
W2 STRANGE SrOUTES.
Llcssed night. Peto Morris proposocl to hold a revolver
to his head and force him to confess. But oven that
strong measure failed to induce a satisfactory retractation.
By way of general precaution, two of the boys went on
hy the day train to St. Louis, hut neither of tliem could
hear anything of Captain Pieipoint. Indeed, as a matter
of fact, the late manager and present appropriator of
the Aylmcr's Pike Biuik had simply turned liis horse's
head in the opposite direction, towards the furtlier station
at Cheyenne Gap, and had gone westward to San Fran-
cisco, intending to make his way back to Kew York via
Panama and the Isthmus Puihvay.
When the buys really understood that they had been
completely duped, they swore vengeance in solemn
fashion, and they picked out two of themselves to carry
out the oath in a regular assembly. Each contributed
of his substance what he was able ; and Peto and Hiram,
being more stirred with righteous wrath than all the rest
put together, were unanimously deputed to follow the
Captain's tracks to San Francisco, and to have his life
wherever and whenever they might chanco to find him.
Pete and Hiram accepted the task thrust upon them, con
amore, and went fortli zealously to hunt up the doomed
life of Captain Monta.i;ue Berosford Pierpoint.
II.
Society in Samia admitted that Captain Pierpoint was
really quite an acquisition. An English gentleman by
birth, well educated, and of pleasant manners, he had
made a little money out west by mining, it was under-
stood, and had now retired to the City of Samia, in the
Province of Ontario and Dominion of Canada, to increase
THE FOUNDERING OF THE '' FOIiTUNA." 153
it by a quiet bit of speculative grain trading. TTo had
been in the grain trade already, and people on the lake
reincuibered liini well ; for Captain I'ierpoint, in his
honest, straightforward fashion, disdained the vulgar
trickincss of an alias, and bore throughout tho string of
names which ho had originally rooeivod from his godfathers
and godmothers at his baptism. A thorough good fellow
Captain Pierpoint had been at Aylmer's Pike ; a perfect
gentleman ho was at Sarnia. As a matter of fact, indeed,
tho Captain was decently well-born, the t^on of an English
country clergyman, educated at a respectable giamnuir
school, and capable of being all things to all men in
whatever station of life it might please Providence to place
him. Society at Sarnia had no prejudico against tho grain
trade; if it had, the prejudice would havo been distinctly
self- regarding, for everybody in tho little town did some-
thing in grain ; and if Captain Pierpoint chose sometimes
to navigate his own vessels, that ^vas a fad which struck
nobody as out of the vv-ay in an easy-going', money-getting,
Canadian city.
Somehow or other, everything seemed to go wrong
with Captain Pierpoint's cargoes. He was always losing
a scow laden with best fail wheat from Chicago for
liufialo ; or running a lumber vessel ashore on tho shoals
of Lake Erie; or getting a four-master jammed in tho ice
packs on tho St. Clair river : and though tho insurance
companies continually declared that Captain Pierpoint
had got tho better of them, tho Captain himself was wont
to complain that no insurance could ever possibly cover
the losses he sustained by the carelessness of li's subor-
dinates or the constant perversity of wind and waters.
He was obliged to take his own ships down, ho would
have it, because nobody else could take them safely for
him ; and though he met with quite as many accidents
himself as many of his deputies did, he continued to
convey his grain in per.'sou, hoping, as he said, that luck
151 STIiANGE STORIES.
■would turn some day, and tliat a good speculation would
finally enuLlu hiia lionouialtly to retriuvo his yliuttcred
fortunes.
However tins ini2;lit ho, it happened curiously enough
that, in spito of all his losses, Captain Pierpoint seemed to
grow richer and richer, visildy to the naked eye, with
cacli rcvcrso of his tradinir efforts. Ho took a handsome
house, set up a carriage and pair, and made love to tho
prettiest and sweetest girl in all Sarnia. Tho prettiest
and sweetest girl Avas not pro(jf against Captain Pier-
point's suave tongue and handsome house ; and sho
married him in very good faith, honestly Lelieving in him.
as a good woman will in a scoundrel, and clinging to hun
fervently with all her heart and soul. No hapi)icr and
more loving pair in all Sarnia than Captain and Mrs.
Pierpoint.
Some months after tho marriage, Captain Pierpoint
arranged to take down a scow or flat-bottomed boat, laden
with grain, from iMilwaukeo for tho Erie Canal. Tie took
np the scow himself, and before ho started for tho voyage,
it was a curious fact that ho went in person down into
tho hold, bored eight large holes right through tho bottom,
and filled each up, as ho drew out tho auger, with a
caulked plug made exactly to fit it, and hammered firmly
into place with a wooden mallet. There was a ring in
each plug, b}' which it could be pulled out again without
much difiiculty ; and the whole eight were all j^laced along
the gangway of tho hold, where no cargo would lie on top
of them. Tho scow's name was the Foriuna : " sit faustum
omen et fclix," murmured Captain Pierpoint to himself;
for among his other accomplishments he had not wholly
neglected nor entirely forgotten tho classical languages.
It took only two men and the skipper to navigate the
scow; for lake craft towed by steam propellers are always
very lightly manned : and when Captain Pierpoint reached
Milwaukee, where he was to take in cargo, he dismissed
THE FouxDEiiixa OF Tilt: '^ fortuna:' ijn
the two sailors who lifid corao with hiin from fSarnIa, ami
eiisa^^'od two frcsli hands at the har])()ur. lloui^h, luiner-
lookinjij men they wore, witli very little of the sailor about
them ; T)Ut Captain l*icrpoint's sharp eyo soun told hiiu
they were the right sort of men for liis purpose, and ho
engat^cd tlieiii on the spot, without a moment's liositation.
Pete and Iliram had had some difficulty in traching him,
for they never thought ho would return to the lakes, but
they had tracked him at hist, and were ready now to take
tlieir revenge.
They had disguised themselves as well as the}' were
able, and in their clumsy knavery they thought they had
completely deceived the Captain. But almost from tho
moment the Captain saw them, ho knew who they were,
and he took his measures accordingly. " Stupid louts,"
he said to himself, with the fine contempt of an educated
scoundrel for the unsophisticated natural ruffian : " liero's
a fine chance of killing two birds with one stone ! " And
when the Captain said the word " killing," he said it in
his own mind with a delicate sinister emphasis which
meant business.
The scow was duly loaded, and with a heavy cargo of
grain aboard, she proceeded to make her way slowly, by
the aid of a tug, out of Milwaukee Harbour.
As soon as she was once clear of the wharf, and while
tho busy shipping of tho great port still surrounded them
on every side, Captain Pierpoint calmly drew his revolver,
and took his stand beside the hatches. " Pete and ITiram,"
he said quietly to his two assistants, " I want to have a
little serious talk with you two before we go any further."
If he had fired upon them outright instead of merely
calling them by their own names, the two common con-
spirators could not have started more unfeignedlj-, or
looked more unspeakably cowed, than they did at that
moment. Their first impulse was to draw their own
revolvers in return ; but they saw in a second that the
150 STRAXCE STORTES.
Oaiitain was Ijcforoliaud witli tlicm, and tbat tlioy had
Letter not try to sslioot luiu bel'oro the very eyoa of all
Milwanlcco.
"Now, Loys," tlio Captain went on steadily, with his
finger on tliu trigger and his eye fixed .straight on the
men's faces, " wo three quite understand one another. I
took your savings for reasons of my own ; and ;y ou have
shipped here to-day to murder mo on the voyage. But I
recognized you helbre I engaged you : and I have left word
at Milwaukee that if anything happens to me on this
journey, ycni two have a grudge against mc, and must bo
hanged for it. I've taken care that if tlii.-: scow comes
into any port along the lakes without me ahojird, you two
are to ho promptly arrest od." (This was false, of course ;
but to Captain Tierpoint a small matter liko that was a
mere trifle.) " And I've Bhi})ped myself along with you,
just to show you I'm not afraid of you. But if either of
you disobeys my orders in anything for one minute, I shoot
at once, and no jury in Canada or the States will touch a
hair of my head for doing it. I'm a respectable shipowner
and grain merchant, you're a pair of disreputable skulking
miners, pretending to ho sailors, and you've shipped aboard
hero on purpose to murder and rob me. If yoa shoot me,
it's murder : if I shoot you, it's justifiable honucido. Now,
boys, do you understand that ? "
Pete looked at lliratn and was beginning to speak, when
the captain intorrupted him in the calm tone of one having
authority. " Look here, Pete," ho said, drawing a chalk
line amidships across the deck ; " you stand this side of
that line, and you stand there, Iliram. Now, mind, if
either of you chooses to step across that lino or to confer
with the other, I shoot you, whether it's hero before all
the eyes of jMilwaukee, or alone in the middle of Huron.
You must each take your own counsel, and do as you liko
for yourselves. But I've got a little plan of my own on,
and if you choose willingly to help me in it, your fortune's
THE FOUXDEniNG OF THE " FORTUNAr 157
made. T.ook at, llio tliiii.s;, fuiuavely, lioys; 'wliat'a tlio uao
of your killing lao? Sooner or later you'll get hung for
it, and it's a very unpleasant thing, I can UKsuro ycm,
han;;ing." As tho Caplain spoko, ho placed his nnoecnpicd
hand loosely on his throat, and pressed it gently hack-
ward. Teti! and Ilirani shuddered a little as ho did so.
" Well, what's tho good of ending your lives that way, oh?
But I'm doing a littlo speenlativo business on thcso lakes,
whoro I want just sueh a couple of men as you two —
men that'll do as they're told in a matter of business and
ask no stjucamish (juestions. If you care to help mo in
this Lusiness, slop and make your fortunes; if you don't,
you can go liack to Milwauk-eo with tho tug."
" You speak fair enough," said rote, duLitai ively ; " hut
you know, Cap'n, you ain't a man to ho trusted. I owo
you ono already for stealing my silver."
"Very littlo silver," tho Captiiin answered, with a wavo
of the hand and a graceful smile. "Bonds, United States
bonds and greenbacks most of it, converted beforehand for
easier conveyanco by horseback. These, however, aro
business details whieh needn't stand in tho way between
you and mo, partner. I always M'as straightforward iu
all jny dealings, and I'll conio to tho point at onco, so
that you can know wdiether you'll help mo or not. This
scow's plugged at bottom. My intention is, first, to part
the rope that ties us to tho tug; next, to transfer tho
cargo l)y night to a small shanty I've got on Manitoulin
Island ; and then to pull tho plugs and sink tho scow on
Manitoulin rocks. Tliat way I get insurance for tho
cargo and scow, and carry on tho grain in tho slack season.
If 3'ou consent to help mo unload, and sink Iho sliip, you
shall havo half profits betwee]i you ; if you don't, you can
go back to Milwaukee like a couplo of fools, and I'll put
into port a.!;ain to got a couple of pluckier fellows.
Answer each for yourselves. Hiram, will you go with
me ? "
158 stuange stories.
"TIow shall I know you'll keep your promise?" asked
lliram.
" For tlio Lost of all possible reasons," replied tiio Cap-
tain, jauntily ; " because, if I don't, you can inform upon
mo to tho insurance people."
In Ilirara Coffin's sordid soul there was a moment's
turnin<5 over of the chances; and then greed prevailed
over revenge, and ho said, grudgingly —
" Well, Cap'n, I'll go with you."
Tho Captain smiled tho smile of calm self-approbation,
and turned half round to Pete.
" And you ? " ho asked.
" If Ilirani goes, I go too," Pete answered, half hoping
that some chance might occur for conferring with his
neighbour on the road, and following out their original
conspiracy. But Captain Picrpoint had been too much
for him : ho had followed the excellent rule " divide et
■impcra" and ho remained clearly master of tho situation.
As soon as they were well outside jMilwaukeo Harbour,
tlie tug dragged them into the open lake, all unconscious
of the strange scene that had passed on tho deck so close
to it ; and tho oddly rcated crew made its way, practically
alone, down tho busy waters of Lake Michigan.
(/aptain Picrpoint certainly didn't spend a comfortable
time during his voyage down the lake, or through tho
Straits of Mackinaw. To say tho truth, ho could hardly
Bleep at all, and ho was very fagged and weary when they
arrived at Manitoulin Island. But Pete and Hiram,
though they had many chances of talking together, could
not see their way to kill him in safcity; and Hiram at
least, in his own mind, had corao to tho conclusion that it
was hotter to mako a little money than to risk one's heck,
for a foolish revenge. So in the dead of night, on tlie seco?id
day out, when a rough wind had risen from tho north,
and a fog had come over them, the Captain (piietly began
to cut awa}'' at the rope that tied them to the tug. Ho
TUE FOVNDEinXG OF THE ''FORTUNAr 159
cut the rope all ronntl, Icavini; a sound core in tlic centre
;,ncl Avlicn tlic next <j;n.st of \\'nn\ came, tlio ropo strained
and parted qnito naturally, so that the people on the tug
never suspected the genuineness of the transaction. They
looked about in the fog and storm for the scow, Lut of
course they coTildn't find her, for Captain Pierpoint, -who
knew his ground well, had driven her straiglit ashore
heforo the wind and beached her on a small shelving covo
on Manitoulin IsL'ind. There they found live men wait-
ing for them, who helped unload the cargo with startling
rapidity, for it was all arrangctl in sacks, not in bulk, and
a high slide fixed on the gangway enabled them to slip it
<pnckly down into an nnderground granary excavated
below the level of tlie beach. After unloading, thoy made
their way down before the brcc/.o towards the jagged
rocks of Manitoulin.
It Avas eleven o'clock on a stormy moonlight night
Avhen the Fortium arrived otF the jutting point of the
great island. A " black squall," as they call it on the
lakes, was blowing down from the ISault Ste. jMarie. The
scow drove about aimlessly, under very little canvas, and
the boat was ready to be lowered, "in case," tho Captain said
humorously, "of any accident." Close to the end of the point
tho Captain ordered Pete and Iliram downi into tho hold,
lie had shown them beforehand the way to draw the
pL gs, and had explained that the water would rise very
slowly, and they would have plenty of time to get up tho
companion-ladder long before there was a foot deep of water
in the huld. At the last moment Pete hung back a little.
Tho Captain took him quiet ly by the shoulders, and, with-
out an oath (an omission which told eloquently on Pete),
thrust him down tho ladder, and told him in his calmest
manner to do his duty. Iliram held the light in his hand,
and both went down together into tho black abyss.
There was no time to be lost ; they were well oflf tho
pi int, and in another moment the wreck would have lost
all show of reasonable probability.
160 STRANGE STORIES.
As the two miners went down into the liold, Captain
Pierpoint drew quietly froin his pocket a largo hannucr
and a packet of five-inch nails. They were good stent nails,
and wouLl resist a considerable pressure. ITo looked
carefully down into the hold, and saw the two men draw
the first plug. One after another ho watched them till
the fourth was drawn, and then he turned away, and took
one of the nails firmly between liis thumb and forefinger.
Next week everybody at Sariiia was grieved to he;ir
that anotlier of Captain Pierpoint's vessels had gone down
off INIanitoulin Point in that dreadful black squall on
Thursday evening. Poth the sailors on board had been
drowned, but the Captain himself had managed to make-
good his escape in the j'dly boat. lie would be a heavy
loser, it was understood, on the vahio of the cargo, for
insurance never covers the loss of grain. Still, it was a
fortunate thing that such a delightful man as the Captain
had not perished in the foundering of the Fortuna.
III.
Somehow, after that wreck. Captain Pierpoint never cared
for the water again. His nerves were shattered, ho said,
and he couldn't stand danger as ho used to do when ho was
younger and stronger. So he went on the lake no more,
and confined his attention more strictly to tho " futures "
business. lie was a thriving and prosperous person, in
spite of his losses ; and tho underwriters had begun to
look a little askance at his insurances even before this
lato foundering case. Some whispered ominously in
•underwriting circles that they had their doubts about tho
Fortuna.
Ouo summer, a few years later, tho water on Lake
THE FOUNDEniXG OF THE '' FOETUNA." ICl
Hnron sank lower than it had ever been known to sink
before. It was a very dry season in the Lack country,
and the rivers brought down very diminished streams into
the great basins. Foot by foot, the level of the lake fell
slowly, till many of the wharves were left high and dry,
and the vessels could only comu alongside in very fe'tv
deep places. Captain Picrpoint had sutTered much from
sleeplessness, combined with Canadian ague, for some
years past, but this particular summer his mind was very
evidently much troubled. For some unaccountable reason,
he watched the falling of the river with the intensesL
anxiety, and after it had passed a certain point, his
interest in the question became painfully keen. Though
the fever and the ague gained upon him from day to day,
and his doctor counselled perfect quiet, he was perpetually
consulting charts, and making measurements of the con-
figuration which the coast had now reached, especially at
the upper end of Lake Huron. At last, his mind seemed
almost to give way, and weak and feverish as ho was, ho
insisted, the first time for many seasons, that he must take
a trip upon the water. Itemonstranco was quite useless ;
he would go on the lake again, ho said, if it killed him.
So he hired one of the little steam pleasure yachts which
are always to let in numbers at Detroit, and started with
his wife and her brother, a young surgeon, for a month's
cruise into Lake Superior.
As the yacht neared J^Ianitoulin Island, Captain Pier-
point insisted upon being brought up on deck in a chair —
he was too ill to stand — and swept all the coast with his
binocular. Close to the point, a flat-topped object lay
mouldering in the sun, half out of water, on the shoals
by the bank. " What is it, Ernest ? " asked the Captain,
trembling, of his brother-in-law.
" A wreck, I should say," the brother-in-law answered,
carelessly. ' By Jove, now I look at it with tho glass, I
can read the name, ♦ Fortuna, Sarnia.' "
M
1G2 STRANGE STORIES.
Captain Picrpoint seized the glass witli a shaking, hand,
and read tho name on the stern, himself, in a dazed
fashion. " Take nie downstairs," he said feebly, " and let
mo die (quietly ; and for Heaven's sake, Ernest, never let
her know about it all."
They took him downstairs into tlie littlo cabin, and
gave him quinine ; but lie called for bi'andy. They let
him have it, and ho drank a glassful. Then ho lay down,
and the shivering seized him ; and with his wife's hand
in his, ho died that night in raving delirium, about -leven.
A black sc^uall was blowing down from tho Sault Ste.
Mario ; and they lay at anchor out in tho lake, tossing
and pitching, opposite the green mouldering hull of the
Fortuna.
They took him back and buried him at Sarnia ; and all
the world went to attend his funeral, as of a man who
died justly respected for his wealth and other socially
admired qualities. But the brother-in-law knew there
was a mystery somewhere in tho wreck of the Fortuna ;
and as soon as tho funeral was over, ho went back with
the yacht, and took its skipper with him to examine the
stranded vessel. AVlion they came to look at the bottom,
they found eight holes in it. Six of them were wide
open ; one was still plugged, and the remaining one had
the plug pulled half out, inward, as if the persons who
were pulling it had abandoned the attempt for the fear of
tho rising water. That was bad enough, and they did
not wonder that Captain Pierpoint had shrunk in horror
from tho revealinuj of the secret of the Fortuna.
But when they scrambled on the deck, they discovered
another fact which gave a more terrible meaning to tho dead
man's tragedy. The covering of the hatchway by the
companion-ladder was battened down, and nailed from the
side with five-inch nails. Tho skipper loosened tho rusty
iron with his knife, and after a while they lifted the lid
oif, and descended carefully into the empty hold below.
THE FOUNDERING OF THE '• FOliTUNA." 1G3
As they suspected, there was no damaged grain in it ; but
at the foot of the conipanion-Ladder, loft behind by tho
retreating water, two half-cleaned skeletoiis in sailor
clothes lay hnddled together loosely on tho floor. That
was all that remained of Tete and I'lirani. Evidently tho
Captain had nailed the hatch down on top of them, and
left thein there terror-stricken to drown as tho water
rushed in and rose around them.
For a while the skipper and tho brother-in-law kept the
dead man's secret; Init they did n.jt try to destroy or
conceal the proofs of his guilt, and in time others visited
the wreck, till, bit by bit, tho horrible story leaked out in
its entirety. Nowadays, as you pass tho Great Manitoulin
Island, every sailor on the lake roiitQ is ready to tell you
this strange and ghastly yarn of tho founderino- of the
Fortnna,
THE BACKSLIBEB.
There was mucli stir and commotion on tlio nicrlit of
Thursday, January the 14tli, 1874, in tlio Gideonite
Apostolic Cliurcli, number 47, AValwortli Lane, Peckham,
S.E, Anybody could sco at a glance that some important
business was under consideration ; for the Apostle was
there himself, in his chair of presidency, and the twelve
Episcops were there, and the forty-eight Presbyters, and
a large and earnest gathering of the Gideonite laity. It
was only a small bare school-room, fitted with wooden
benches, was that headquarters station of the young
Church ; but you could not look around it once without
seeing that its occupants were of the sort by whom great
religious revolutions may be made or marred. For the
Gideonites were one of those strange enthusiastic hole-
and-corner sects that spring up naturally in the outlj'ing
suburbs of great thinking centres. They gather around
the marked personality of some one ardent, vigorous, half-
educated visionary ; and they consist for the most part of
intelligent, half-reasoning people, who arc bold enough to
cast overboard the dogmatic beliefs of their fathers, but
not so bold as to exercise their logical faculty upon the
fundamental basis on which the dogmas originally rested.
The Gideonites had thus collected around the fixed centre
of their Apostle, a retired attorney, Murgess by name,
whose teaching commended itself to their groping reafc'on
THE JlACKSLIDEn. 1G5
.IS tho pure outcome of faithful EiLlical rcscxii*ch ; and
they had chosen their name because, though tlicy were
but three hundred in number, thoy liad full confidcnco
that when tho time came they wouhl Wow tlieir trumpets,
and all tho host of Midian would bo scattered before tliem.
In fact, they divided tho world generally into GiJeonito
and Midianito, for they knew that ho that was not with
them was against them. And no wonder, for tho people
of Peckhain did not love tho struggling Church. Its chief
doctrine was one of absolute celibacy, like tho Shakers of
iVmorica ; and to this doctrine the Church had testiiied in
the Old Kent lioad and elsewhere after a vigorous practical
fashion that roused the spirit of South-eastern Lcuidou
into the fiercest opposition. The young men and maidens,
said tho Apostle, must no longer marry or be given in
marriage ; tho wives and husbands must dwell asunder ;
and the earth must bo made as an imago of heaven. These
were heterodox opinions, indeed, which South-eastern
London could only receive with a strenuous counterblast
of orthodox brickbats and sound Anglican road metal.
The fleece of wool was duly laid upon tho iloor; tho
trumpet and tho lamp were placed upon the bare wooden
reading desk; and the Apostle, rising slowly from his
seat, began to address tho assembled Gideonitcs.
" Friends," he said, in a low, clear, impressive voice, with
a musical ring tempering its slow distinctness, *' wo have
met together to-night to take counsel with one another
upon a high matter. It is plain to all of us that the work
of the Church in the woild does not prosper as it might
prosper were the charge of it in worthier hands. Wo have
to contend against great difficulties. AV^o are not among
the rich or tho mighty of the earth ; and the poor whom
wo have always with us do not listen to us. It is expe-
dient, therefore, that wo should set some one aujong us
aside to be instructed thoroughly in those things that aro
most commonly taught among tho Midianitcs at Oxford
IGG STIlANlJi: STOlilES.
or CaniLriclge. To some of you it iiitiy scorn, as it seemed
ut first to 1110, that sucii a course would involve goiii"-
back upon the very principles of our constitution. We
are not to overcome Midiau by our own hand, nor by the
strenp;th of two and thirty thousand, but by the trumpet,
and the pitcher, and the cake of barley bread. Yet, when
I searched and inquired after this matter, it seemed to me
that wo might also err by overmuch confidence on the
other side. For jMoses, who led the people out of Egypt^
Avas made ready for the task by being learned ii> all the
learning of the Egyptians. Daniel, who testified in the
captivity, was cunning in knowledge, and understanding
science, and instructed in the wisdom and tongue of the
Chaldeans. Paul, who was the apostle of the Gentiles,
had not only sat at the feet of Gamaliel, but was also able
from their own poets and philosophers to confute the
sophisms and subtleties of the Grecians themselves. These
things show us that wo should not too lightly despise
even worldly learning and worldly science. Perhaps we
have gone wrong in thinking too little of such dross, and
being puffed up with spiritual pride. The world might i
listen to us more readily if we had one who could speak I
the word for us in the tongues understanded of the
world."
As he paused, a hum of acquiescence went round the
room.
" It has seemed to me, then," the Apostle went on, " that
we ought to choose some one among (jur younger brethren,
upon whoso shoulders the cares and duties of the Apos-
toUitc might hereafter fall. ^Ve are a poor people, but by
subscription among ourselves we might raise a sufficient
sum to send the chosen person first to a good school here
in London, and afterwards to the University of Oxford.
It may seem a doubtful and a hazardous thing thus to
stake our future upon any one young man ; but then wo
must remember that the choice will not be wholly or even
THE BACKSLID EH. ]G7
mainly ours; we will bo guided and directed as wo over
aro in the layin^; on of hands. To lue, considering^ tluH
matter thus, it has seemed that there is one youth in our
body who is speciall}' pointed out for this work. Only
one child has ever been born into the Church : he, as you
know, is the son of brother John Owen and sister Margaret
Owen, who were received into the fold just six days before
his birth. Paul Owen's very name seems to many of us,
who take nothing for chance but all things for divinely
ordered, to mark liiiu out at once as a foreordained Apostle.
Is it your -wish, then, Presbyter John Owen, to dedicate
your only son to this ministry ? "
Presbyter John Owen rose from the row of seats assigned
to the forty-eight, and moved hesitatingly towards tho
platform. lie was an intelligent-looking, honest-faced,
sunburnt working man, a mason by trade, who had como
into the Church from tho Baptist society ; and he was
awkwardly dressed in his .Sunday clothes, with the scru-
pulous clumsy neatness of a respectable artisan who
expects to take part in an important ceremony, lie
spoke nervously and with hesitation, but with all tho
transparent earnestness of a simple, enthusiastic nature.
" Apostle and friends," he said, " it ain't very easy for
me to disentangle mj^ fcclins on this subjec' from one
another. I hope I ain't moved by any worldly feelin', an'
yet I hardly know how to keep such considerations out,
for there's no denyin' tliat it Avould bo a great pleasure to
mo and to his mother to see our Paul becomin' a teacher
in Israel, and receivm' an education such as you. Apostle,
has pinted out. But wo hope, too, we ain't insensible to
the good of the Church and tho advantage that it might
derive from our Paul's support and preachin'. Wo can't
help scein' ourselves that the lad has got abilities ; and
we've tried to train him up from his 3'uuth upward, like
Timothy, for the furtherance of the right doctrine. If
the Church thinks he's fit for the work laid upon him,
1G8 STllA^GE STORIES.
Ills mother and iiio'll 1)0 glad to dedicate him to the
Korvico."
lie .sat (l(j\vn awkwardly, and the Chnrch again hummod
its approljation in a suppressed murmur. The Apostlo
rose oiico mure, and briclJy called on Paul Owen to stand
forward.
In answer to the call, a tall, handsome, oarnest-eycd boy
advanced timidly to the platform. It was no wonder that
those enthusiastic Gidconito visionaries should have seen
in his face the visible stamp of the Apostleship. Paul
Owen had a ricli crop of dark-brown glossy and curly hair,
out something after the Florentine Cinque-cento fashion
— not because his parents wished him to look artistic, but
because that Avas the way in which they had seen the hair
dressed in all the sacred pictures that they knew; and
Margaret Owen, the daughter of some Wesleyan Spital-
fields weaver folk, with the imaginative Huguenot blood
still strong in her veins, had made up her mind ever since
she became Convinced of the Truth (as their phrase ran)
that her Paul was called from his cradle to a great work.
His features were delicately chiselled, and showed rather
natural culture, like his mother's, than rough honesty, like
John Owen's, or strong individuality^ like the masterful
Apostle's. His eyes were peculiarly deep and luminous,
with a far-away look which might have reminded an artist
of the central boyish figure in Holman Hunt's picture of
the Doctors in the Temple. And yet Paul Owen had a
healthy colour in his cheek and a general sturdiness of
limb and muscle which showed that he was none of your
nervous, bloodless, sickly idealists, but a wholesome
English peasant boy of native refinement and delicate
sensibilities. He moved forward with some natural
hesitation before the eyes of so many people — ay, and
what was more terrible, of the entire Church upon earth ;
but ho v/as not awkward and constrained in his action like
his father. One could see that he was sustained in the
THE BACKSLID Ell. IGD
prominent part ho took that morning hy tho conscionsnosa
of a duty ho had to perform and a uiissiuu laid npon him
which ho must not reject.
*' Are yon -willinji?, my son I'anl," asked tho Apostks
gravely, " to take upon yourself tho task that tho Church
proposes ? "
" I am willing," answered tho hoy in a low voice,
" grace preventing mo."
" Docs all the Church nnanimo)isly a]iprovo tho election
of our brother Paul to this ofiice ? " the Apostlo asked
formally; for it was a rule with tho Gideonites that
nothing should be done except by tho unanimous and
spontaneous acticni of tho whole body, acting nndur direct
and immediate inspiration; and all important matters
were accordingly arranged beforehand by tho Apostlo in
private interviews with every member of tho Cliurch in-
dividually, so that everything that took place in public
assembly had tho appearance of being wholly unquestioned'
They took counsel first with ono another, and consulted
tho Scripture together ; and when all private doubts wero
satisfied, they met as a Chnrch to ratify in solemn conclave
their separate conclusions. It was not often that tho
Apostlo did not have his own way. Not only had he tho
most marked personality and tho strongest will, but ho
alone also had Greek and Hebrew enough to appeal
always to tho original word ; and that mysterions amoimt
of learning, slight as it really was, sufficed almost inva-
riably to settle the scruples of his wholly ignorant and
pliant disciples. Reverence for tho literal Scripture in its
primitive language was the corner-stone of the Gidconi to
Church ; and for all practical purposes, its one depositary
and exponent for them was tho Apostle himself. Even
tho Rev. Albert Barnes's Commentary w^as held to possess
an inferior authority.
" The Church approves," was tho unanimous answer.
" Then, Episcops, Presbyters, and brethren," said the
170 STIiANGE STORIES.
Apostlo, taking up a roll of names, " I have to ask that
you will each mark down on this paper opposite yonr own
names how much a year you can spare of your substance
for six years to come as a guarantee fund for this great
work. You must remember that the ministry of this
Church has cost you nothing ; freely I have received and
freely given ; do you now hear your part in equipping a
now aspirant for tlie succession to the Apostolatc."
The two senior Episoops took two rolls from his hand,
and went round the benches with a stylographic pen (so
strangely do the ages mingle — Apostles and stylographs)
silently asking each to put down his voluntary subscription.
Meanwliile the Apostlo read slowly and reverently a few
appropriate sentences of Scripture. Some of the riclier
members — well-to-do small tradesmen of Peckham — put
down a pound or even two pounds apiece ; the j)oorer
brethren wrote themselves down for ten shillings or even
five. In tho end the guarantee list amounted to Id 51. a
year. The Apostle reckoned it up rapidly to himself, and
then announced tho result to tho assembly, with a gentle
smile relaxing his austere countenance. He was well
pleased, for the sum w^as quite sufficient to keep Paul
Owen two years at school in London and then send him
comfortably if not splendidly to Oxford. The boy had
already had a fiiir education in Latin and some Greek,
at tho Birkbeck Schools ; and with two years' further
study he might even gain a scholarship (for ho was a
bright lad), which w^ould materially lessen the expense to
the young Church. Unlike many prophets and enthusiasts,
tho Apostlo was a good man of business; and he had
taken pains to learn all about these favourable chances
before embarking his people on so very doubtful a
speculation.
The Assembly was just about to close, when one of
the Presbyters rose unexpectedly to put a question which,
contrary to the usual practice, had not already been sub-
TUE BACKSLIDER. 171
mitted for approbation to tho Apostle. ITo was a liard-
headed, thickset, vulgar-looking man, a greengrocer at
Denmark Hill, and the Apostlo always looked upon him
as a thorn in his side, promoted by inscrutable wisdom to
tho Presbytery for the special purpose of keeping down
tho Apostle's spiritual pride.
" Ono more pint, Apostle," ho said abruptly, " aforo wo
close. It seems to me that even in the Church's work
we'd ought to bo business-like. Now, it ain't business-
like to let this young man, lirother Paul, get his eddica-
tion out of us, if I may so speak aforo tho Church, on spec.
It's all very well our sayin' he's to bo cdtlicated and tako
on the Apostleship, but how do we know but Avhat when
he's had his eddication ho may lall away and become a
backslider, like Demas and like others anumg ourselves
that we could mention ? Ho may go to Oxford among a
lot of Midianites, and them of tho great an' mighty of tho
earth too, and how do we know but what ho may round
upon the Church, and go back upon us after we've paid for
his eddication? So what I want to ask is just this, can't
wo bind him down in a bond that if ho don't tako tlio
Apostleship with the consent of the Church when it falls
vacant he'll pay us back our money, so as we can eddicato
up another as '11 be more worthy?"
Tho Apostlo moved uneasily in his chair ; but before
he could speak, Paul Owen's indignation found voice, and
ho said out his say boldly before tho whole assembly,
blushing crimson with mingled shamo and excitement as
he did so. •' If Brother Grimshaw and all tho brethren
think so ill of mo that they cannot trust my honesty and
honour," ho said, "they need not be at tho pains of
educating me. I will sign no bond and enter into no
compact. But if you suppose that I will bo a backslider,
you do not know me, and I will confer no more with you
upon tho subject."
" My son Paul is right," tho Apostle said, flushing up
172 STRANGE STORIES.
in turn at the boy's audacity ; •' wo will not make the
affaiis of tho Spirit a matter for bonds and earthly ar-
rangements. If tho Church thinks as I do, you will
all rise up."
All roso except Presbyter Grimshaw. For a moment
there was some hesitation, for tho rule of tho Church in
favour of unanimity was absolute ; but tho Apostlo fixed
his piercing eyes on Job Grimshaw, and after a minute
or so Job Grimshaw too roso slowly, like one com]ielled
by an unseen power, and cast in his vote grudgingly with
the rest. There was nothing more said about signing an
agreement.
II.
Meenio Bolton had counted a great deal upon lier visit
to Oxford, and she found it (^uite as delightful as she had
anticipated. Iler brother knew such a nice set of men,
especially Mr. Owen, of Christchurch. Meenio had never
been so near falling in lovo with anybody in her life
as she was with Paul Owen. Ho was so handsome and so
clever, and then there was something so romantic about
this strange Church they said he belonged to. Meenie's
father was a country parson, and the way in which Paul
shrank from talking about the Rector, as if his office were
something wicked or uncanny, picjued and amused her.
There was an heretical tinge about him which made him
doubly interesting to the Hector's daughter. The afternoon
water party that eventful Thursday, down to Nuneham^
she looked forward to with the deepest interest. For her
aunt, the Professor's wife, who was to take charge of them,
was certainly tho most delightful and most sensible of
chaperons. - , * '»
THE BACKSLIDER.
17:1
*' Is it really true, Mr. Owen," slio said, as they pat
together for ten minutes alono after their pienic luncheon,
by the side of tho weir under the shadow of the Nunehaiu
beeches — " is it really true that this Church of yours
doesn't allow people to marry ? "
Paul coloured up to his eyes as ho answered, " Well,
Miss Bolton, I don't know that you should identify me
too absolutely with my Church. I was very young when
they selected mo to go to Oxford, and my opinions have
decidedly wavered a good deal lately. But the Church
certainly does forbid marriage. I have always been
brought up to look upon it as sinful."
Meenio laughed aloud ; and Paul, to whom the question
was no laughing matter, but a serious point of conscien-
tious scruple, could hardly help laughing with her, so
infectious was that pleasant ripple. lie checked himself
with an effort, and tried to look serious. " Do you know,*
ho said, " when I first came to Christchurch, I doubted
even whether I ought to make your brother's acquaintance"
because he was a clergyman's son. I was taught to de-
scribe clergymen always as priests of Midian." lie never
talked about his Church to anybody at Oxford, and it was
a sort of relief to him to speak on tho subject to Mecnie,
iu spite of her laughing eyes and undisguised amusement.
The other men would have laughed at him too, but their
laughter would have been less sympathetic.
" And do you think them priests of Midian still ? " asked
Meenie.
" Miss Bolton," said Paul suddenl}-, as one who relievos
his overburdened mind by a great effort, " I am almost
moved to make a confidante of you."
*' There is nothing I love better than confidences,"
Meenie answered ; and she might truthfully have added.
" particularly from you."
" Well, I have been passing lately through a great
many doubts and difficulties. I was brought up by my
174 STRANGE SWniES.
Church to become its next Apostle, and I have "been crlu-
catod at their cxpciiso Loth in London and liere. You
know," Paid added with liis innate love of tollini; out the
wliole truth, " I am not a j^entlenian ; I am the son of
poor working people in London."
"Tom t(»ld mo who your parents were," IMecnio an-
swered simply ; " but he told me, too, you were none the
less a true gentleman born %r that ; and I see myself ho
told me right."
Paul flushed again — ho had a most unmanlj'' trick of
flushing up — and bowed a little timid bow. " Thank
you," he said qnietly. "Well, while I was in London I
lived entirely among my own people, and never heard
anything talked about except our ov/n doctrines. I
thought our Apostle the most learned, the wisest, and the
greatest of men. I had not a doubt about tho absolute
infallibility of our own opinions. But ever since I camo
to Oxford I have slowly begun to hesitate and to falter.
"When I came up first, tho men laughed at me a good deal
in a good-humoured way, because I wouldn't do as they
did. Then I thought myself persecuted for the truth's
sake, and was glad. But the men were really very kind
and forbearing to me; they never argued with me or
bullied me ; they respected my scruples, and said nothing
more about it as soon as they found out Avhat they really
were. That was my first stumbling-block. If they had
fonght me and deljated with me, I might have stuck to
my own opinions by force of opposition. But they turned
me in upon myself completely by their silence, and mas-
tered me by their kindly forbearance. Point by point I
began to give in, till now I hardly know where I am
standing."
" You wouldn't join the cricket club at first, Tom says."
" No, I wouldn't. I thought it wrong to walk in tho
ways of Midian. But gradually I began to argue myself
out of my scruples, and now I positively pull six in the
THE BACKSLIDEIi. X75
boat, and wear a Christcliurch ribljoii <m my hat. I liavo
given lip protesting against having my letters adLlrcssetl
to mo as Esquiro (though I have really no right to the
title), and I nearly went the other day to have somo cards
engraved with my name as ' Mr. Paul Owen.' I am afraid
I'm backsliding terribly."
Meenio laughed again. " If that is all you have to
burden your conscience with," sho said, •' I don't think
you need spend many sleepless nights."
" Quito so," Paul answered, smiling ; " I think so myself.
But that is not all. I have begun to have serious doubts
about the Apostlo himself and tho whole Church alto-
gether. I have been three years at Oxford now; and
while I was reading for Mods, I don't think I was so nn-
sottled in my mind. But since I have begun reading
philosophy for luy Greats, I have had to go into all sorts
of deep books — 31111, and Spencer, and Bain, and all kinds
of fellows who really think about things, you know, down
to the very bottom — and an awful truth l)cgins to dawn
upon mo, that our Apostlo is after all only a very tliird-
rate typo of a thinker. Now that, you know, is really
terrible."
"I don't see why," Meenio answered demurely. Sho
was beginning to get genuinely interested.
" That is because you liavo never had to call in question
a cherished and almost ingrown faith. You have never
realized any similar circumstances. Hero am I, brought
up by these good, honest, earnest people, with their own
hard-earned money, as a pillar of their belief.. I have
been taught to look upon myself as the chosen advocate
of their creed, and on tho Apostle as an almost divinely
inspired man. My whole life has been bound up in it ; I havo
worked and read night and day in order to pass high and do
honour to the Church ; and now what do I begin to fiml
the Church really is? A petty group of poor, devoted,
enthusiastic, ignorant people, led blindly by a decently
17G STRANGE STORIES.
instructed Init nnrrow-minded teacher, who has mixed up
his own hcadstroRf; self-conceit and sclf-importauco with
his own peculiar ideas of abstract religion." Paul paused,
lialf surprised at himself, for, though ho had doubted
before, ho had never ventured till that day to formulate
his doubts, even to himself, in such plain and straight-
forward language.
"I see," said Meenio, gravely; "you have come into a
wider world; you have mixed with wider ideas; and tho
wider world has converted you, instead of your converting
tlio world. Well, that is only natural. Others beside
you have had to change their opinions."
" Yes, yes ; but for mo it is harder — oh ! so much
harder."
" Decauso you have looked forward to being an Apostle ? "
" ]\Iiss Bolton, you do me injustice — not ,in what you
say, but in tho tono you say it in. No, it is not tho giving
up of tho Apostlcship that troubles me, though I did hopo
that I might help in mj' way to make the world a new
earth ; but it is tho shoclc and downfall of their hopes to
all those good earnest people, and especially — oh ! espe-
cially. Miss I'olton, to my own dear father and mother."
His eyes filled with tears as ho spoke.
" I can understand," said Meenie, sym}iatlietically, her
eyes dimming a little in response. " They have set their
hearts all their lives long on your accomplishing this work,
and it will bo to them the disappointment of a cherished
romance."
Thev looked at one another a few minutes in silence.
" ITow long have you begun to have your doubts ? "
Meenie asked after tho pause.
*' A long time, but most of all since I saw you. It has
made me — it has made me hesitate more about tho fun-
damental article of our faith. Even now, I am not sure
whether it is not wrong of me to be talking so with you
about such matters." . - /
THE BACKSLIDElt. J77
*' I so.-," said Mccnio, a little more archly; "it comes
perilously near " and she broke off, for hUo felt she
had gone a step too fur.
" Perilously near falling; lu love," Paul continued boldly,
turning his big eyes full upon liur. " Yes, perilously
near."
Their eyes met ; JMcenie's fell ; and they said no more.
But they both felt they understood ono another. Just at
that moment the Professor's wife camo up to interrupt tho
icte-a-lctc ; " for that young Owen," she said to herself,
"is really getting <i[uito too confidential with dear
Meenie."
That same evening Paul paced up and down his rooms
in Peekwater with all his soul strangely upheaved within
him and tossed and racked by a dozen conflicting doubts
and passions. Had ho gone too far? Had he yielded like
Adam to tho woman who be2;uiled him ? Had he ffiven
"way like Samson to tho snares of Delilah ? For tho old
Scripture phraseology and imagery, so long burned into
his verj'^ nature, clung to him still in spite of all his fal-
tering changes of opinion. Had ho said more than he
thought and felt about tho Apostle? Even if ho was
going to revise his views, was it right, was it candid, was
it loj^al to the truth, that he should revise them under the
biassing influence of Meenie's eyes ? If only ho could
have separated tho two questions — tho Apostle's mission,
and tho something which he felt growing up within him !
But ho could not — and, as ho suspected, for a most ex-
cellent reason, because tho two were intimately bound up
in tho very warp and woof of his existence. Nature was
asserting herself against tho religious asceticism of tho
Apostle; it could not bo so wrong for him to feel thoso
feelings that had thrilled every heart in all his ancestors
for innumerable generations.
Ho was in love with Meenie : he know that clearly now.
And this love was after all not such a wicked and terrible
178 STIiANGE STOItlES.
feeling; on tho contrary, ho felt all tho better and tlio
purer for it already. Diit then that might merely ho tho
horrible seductiveness of tho thing. Was it not always
typified by tho cup of Circe, by tho song of tho Sirens, by
all that was alluring and beautiful and hollow ? IIo paced
up and down for half an hour, and then (ho had sported
his oak long aj;o) ho lit his little reading lamp and sat
down in tho big chair by tho bay window. Running his
eyes over his Ijookshe'f, ho took out, half by chance,
Spencer's " Sociology." Then, from sheer weariness, ho
read on for a while, hardly lieeding what he road. At last
ho got interested, and finished a chapter. Wlien ho had
finished it, he put tho book down, aid felt that tho
struggle was over. Strange that side by side in tho same
world, in tho same London, there should exist two such
utterly different types of man as Herbert Spencor and tho
Gideonito Apostle. Tho last seemed to belong to tho
sixteenth century, tho first to some new and hitherto un-
created social world. In an ago which produced thinkers
liko that, how could ho over have mistaken the poor,
bigoted, narrow, half-instructed Apostle for a divinely
inspired teacher ! So far as Paul Owen was concerned,
the Gideonito Church and all that belonged to it had
melted utterly into thin air.
Three days later, after tho Eights in tho early evening,
Paul found an opportunity of speaking again alone with
Meenie. He had taken their party on to the Christchurcli
barge to see the race, and ho was strolling with them after-
wards round tho meadow walk by tho bank of tho Cher-
well. Paul managed to get a little in front with Meenie,
and entered at once upon the subject of his lato em-
barrassments.
♦' I have thought it all over since, Miss Bolton," he said
— ^he half hesitated whether ho should say " Meenie " or
not, and she was half disappointed that he didn't, for they
were both very young, and very young people fall in love
THE BACKSLIDER. 170
SO TmafTcctodly — " I have thought it all over, and I havo
como to tho conclusion that tlioro is no help for it : I must
break openly with tho Church."
" Of course," said Mccnic, simply. " That I understood."
IIo smiled at her ingenuousness. Such a very forward
young person ! And yet ho liked it. " Well, tho next
thing is, what to do about it. You see, I liavo really been
obtaining my education, .so to speak, under false pretences.
1 can't continue taking these good people's money after I
havo ceased to believe in their doctrines. I ought to havo
faced tho question sooner. It was wrong of me to wait
until — until it was forced upon mo by other considera-
tions."
This time it was Mconio who blushed. '■ But you don't
mean to leave Oxford without taking your degree ? " sho
asked quickly.
" No, I think it will bo better not. To stop hero and
try for a fellowship is my best chance of repaying these
poor people the money which I havo taken from them for
no purpose."
" I never thought of that," said Meenie. " You are
bound in honour to pay them back, of course."
Paul liked the instantaneous honesty of that " of course.'*
It marked tho naturally honourable character; for "of
course," too, they must wait to marry (young people jump
i>o) till all that money was paid off. " Fortunately," ho
said, " I have lived economically, and havo not spent nearly
as much as they guaranteed. I got scholarships up to a
hundred a year of my own, and I only took a hundred
a year of theirs. They offered mo two hundred. Uut
there's five years at a hundred, that makes five hundre(7
l)ounds — a big debt to begin life with."
" Never mind," said Meenie. " You will get a fellow-
ship, and in a few years you can pay it off."
" Yes," said Paul, •' I can pay it off. But I can never
pay off tho hopes and aspirations I have blighted. I must
180 STHANGIJ STOIilES.
"boconio a sclioolmastor, or a l»arristcr, or fiomothinfj of that
sort, and novor repay thoiii for their sclf-sacrifico and
devotion in makinj^ mo whatcNxr I .shall become. They
may jijct back ilicir monoj-, but tliey will have lost their
cherished Apostle for over."
"Mr. Owen," Mecnio answered solemnly, "the seal of
the Apostoliito lies far deeper than that. It was born in
you, and no act of yours can shako it off."
" Meenie," ho said, h)okin-' at lier gently, with a changed
expression — " JMecnio, we shall have to wait many years."
" Never mind, Paul," she replied, as naturally as if ho
had been Paul to her all her life long, " I can wait if you
can. liut what will you do for the immediato present?"
" I have my seliolarship," ho said ; " I can get on partly
upon that ; and tlien I can take pupils ; and I have only
one year more of it."
So before they parted tliat night it was all well under-
stood between them that Paul was to declare his defection
irom the Church at the earliest opportunity ; tliat ho was
to live as best ho might till he could take his degree ;
that he was then to pay olf all the back debt ; and that
after all these things he and Meenio might get comfortably
married whenever they were able. As to the Rector and
his wife, or any other parental authorities, they both left
them out in the cold as wholly as young people always do
leave their elders out on all similar occasions.
" Maria's a born fool ! " said the Rector to his wife a
"week after Meenie's return ; " I always knew sho was a
fool, but I never know sho was quite such a fool as to
permit a thing like this. So far as I can get it out of
Edie, and so far as Edie can get it out of Meenie, I under-
stand that she has allowed Moenie to go and get herself
engaged to some Dissenter fellow, a Shaker, or a Mor-
mon, or a Communist, or something of the sort, who is the
son of a common labourer, and has been sent up to Oxford,
Tom lolls me, by his own sect, to be made into a gentle-
Tin: BACKSLIBEU. 181
man, so as to ji^ivo some sort or colour of respectability to
their absurd (loctrinos. I shall send tho <;irl to town at
once to Emily's, and she shall stop there all next season,
to see if sho can't manage to _i;ct engaged to souio young
man in decent .society at any rate."
III.
When Paul Owen returned to Pcckham for tho long^
vacation, it was with a heavy heart that ho ventured hack
slowly to his father's cottage. Margaret Owen had put
everything straight and neat in tho littlo living room, as
sho always did, to welcome homo her son who had grown
into a gentleman ; and honest John stood at tho threshold
beaming with ple;isure to wring Paul's hand in his lirni
grip, just back unwashed from his day's labour. After
the first kissings and greetings were over, John Owen said
rather solemnly, " I have bad news for you, Paul. Tho
Apostle is sick, even unto death."
AVhen Paul hoard that, ho was sorely tempted to put
off tho disclosure for tho present ; but ho felt ho must not.
So that same night, as they sat together in the dusk near
tho window where tho geraniums stood, ho began to un-
burden his whole mind, gently and tentatively, so as to
spare their feelings as much as possible, to his father and
mother. He told them how, since ho went to Oxford, ho
had learned to think somewhat differently about many
things; how his ideas had gradually deepened and
broadened ; how ho had begun to inquire into funda-
mentals for himself; how ho had feared that the Gideonites
took too much for granted, and reposed too implicitly on
tho supposed critical learning of their Apostle. As ho
spoke his mother listened in tearful silence ; but his father
182 STItANGE STOItlES.
jnurmured from time to time, " I was afeard of this already,
Paul ; I seen it coming', now and again, long ago." There
was pity and regret in his tone, but not a shade of
reproacUfulness.
At last, however, Paul camo to speak, timidly and
reservedly, of Meenio. Then his father's eye began to
flash a little, and liis breath camo deejier and harder.
Wlien Paul told him briefly that ho was engaged to her,
tlie strong man conld stand it no longer, lie rose up in
riglitoous wrath, and tlirust his son at arm's length from
him. " "What ! " ho cried fiercely, " you don't mean to tell
nie you have fallen into sin and looked upon the daughters
of Midian ! It was no Scriptural doubts that druv you
on, then, but the desire of the flesh and the lust of the
eyes that has lost you ! You dare to stand up there, Paul
Owen, and tell mo that you throw over the Church and
the Apostle for the sake of a girl, like a poor miserable
Samson! You are no son of mine, and I have nothin'
more to say to you."
But Margaret Owen put her hand on his shoulder and
said softly, " John, let us hear him out." And John,
recalled by that gentle touch, listened once more. Then
Paul pleaded his case powerfully again. He quoted Scrip-
ture to them ; he argued with them, after their own fashion,
and down to their own comprehension, text by text ; he
pitted his own critical and exegetical faculty against the
Apostle's. Last of all, he turned to his mother, who,
tearful still and heartbroken with disappointment, yet
looked admiringly upon her learned, eloquent boy, and said
to her tenderly, " Remember, mother, you yourself were
once in love. You yourself once stood, night after night,
leaning on the gate, waiting with your heart beating for
a footstep that you knew so well. You yourself once
counted the days and the hours and the minutes till the
next meeting- came." And Margaret Owen, touched to the
heart by that simple appeal, kissed him fervently a dozen
THE BACKSLIDER.
\S-i
times over, tlio hot tears dropping on his chock meanwhile;
and then, contrary to all tlio rules of their austere Church,
she flung her arras round her husband too, and kissed him
passionately the first time for twenty years, with all tho
fervour of a floodgate loosed. Paul Owen's apostolato had
Burely borne its first fruit.
The father stood for a moment in doubt and terror, liko
one stunned or dazed, and then, in a moment of sudden
remembrance, stepped forward and returned the kiss. Tho
spell was broken, and the Apostle's power was no more.
What else passed in the cottage that night, when John
Owen full upon his knees and wrestled in spirit, was too
wholly internal to the man's own soul for telling hero.
Next day John and Margaret Owen felt the dream of their
lives was gone ; but the mother in her heart rejoiced to
think her boy might know tho depths of love, and might
bring homo a real lady for his wife.
On Sunday it was rumoured tliat the Apostle's ailment
was very serious ; but young Brother I'aul Owen would
address , the Church. He did so, though not exactly in
the way the Church expected. Ho told them simply and
plainly how he had changed his views about certain
matters ; how he thanked them from his heart for tho luan
of their money (he was careful to emphasize !^ tho word
loaii), which had helped him to carry on his education at
Oxford ; and how he would repay tliem the principal and
interest, though he could never repay them the kindness,
at the earliest possible opportunity. He was so grave, so
earnest, so transparently true, that, in spite of tho down-
fall of their dearest hopes, he carried the whole meeting
with him, all save ono man. Tliat man was Job Grim-
shaw. Job rose from his place with a look of undisguised
triumph as soon as Paul had finished, and, mounting tho
platform quietly, said his say.
"I know, Episcops, Presbyters, and Brethren," ho
began, " how this 'ere young man would finish. I saw it
184 STBANGE STORIES.
the (lay ho \vas appintccL lie's flushing up now the same
as ho flushed up then Avhen I spoke to liim ; and it ain't
^pcriitual, it's -worldly pride and hcatlKtron^-noss, that's
Avhat it is. IIc'.s had our money, and he's had liis eddica-
tion, and now he's going to round on us, just as I said he
would. It's all very well talking about paying us Lack :
liow's a young man like him to get five hundred pounds,
I should like to know. And if he did even, what sort o'
a'cpayment would that ho to many of the brethren, who've
saved and scraped for live year to let him live like a
gentleman among the great and the mighty o' IMidian?
He's got his eddication out of us, and ho can keep that
whatever happens, and make a living out of it, too ; and
now he's going back on us, same as I said he would, and,
having got all he can out of the Church, he's going to
chuck it away like a sucked orange. I detest such back-
sliding and such ungratefulness."
I'aul's cup of humiliation was full, but he bit his lip
till the blood almost came, and made no answer.
" He boasted in his own strength," Job went on merci-
lessly, " that he wasn't going tO' bo a backslider, and he
Avasu't going to sign no bond, and lio wasn't going to con-
fer with us, but wo nuist trust his honour and honesty,
and such like. I've got his very words written down in
my notebook 'ere ; for I made a note of 'em, foreseeing this.
If we'd 'a' bound him down, as I proposed, ho wouldn't 'a'
dared to go backsliding and rounding on us, and making
up to the daugliters of Midian, as I don't doubt but what
]ie's been doing." Paul's toll-tale face sliowcd him at once
that ho had struck by accident on the right chord. " But
if he ever goes bringing a daughter of Midian here to
Peckham," Job continued, '* we'll show her these very
notes, and ask her what she thinks of such dishonourable
conduct. The Apostle's dying, that's clear ; and before ho
dies I warrant he shall know this treachery."
Paul could not stand that last threat. Though he had
TIIK BACKSLIDER. 185
lost faith ill tlio Apostlo as an Apostle, ho could never
forget the allcgianco ho had onco homo liiiu as a fatlier, or
the spell which his powerful individuality had «)nco
thrown around him as a teacher. To have embittt-red
that man's dyii^i;' bed with the shadow of a torrihlo
disappointment would bo to Paul a lifelong subject of
deep remorse. " I did not intend to open my moutli in
answer to you, ]\It '^rrimshaw," ho said (for tlio first timo
breaking through the customary address of liruther), " but
I \)T&,y you, I entreat you, I beseech you, not to harass
the Apostlo in bis last moments with such a subject."
"Oh yes, I suppose so," Job Grimshaw answered
maliciously, all the ingrained coarseness of the nuin
breaking out in the wrinkles of his face. " No wonder
you don't want him enlightened alxtut your goings on
with tho daughters of Midian, when yon must know as
well as I do that his life ain'r. woith a day's purchase,
and that he's a man of independent moans, and has left
you every penny he's got in his will, because ho believes
you're a lit successor to tho Apostulate. I know it, for I
signed as a witness, and I read it through, being a short
one, while the other witness was signing. And you
must know it as well as I do. I suppose you don't think
lie'll make another will now ; but there's time enough to
burn that one anyhow."
Paul Owen stood aghast at the vulgar baseness of which
this lewd fellow supposed him capable. He had never
thought of it before; and yet it flashed across his mind
in a moment how obvious it was now. Of course tho
Apostlo would leave him his money. IIo was being
educated for the Apostolate, and the Apostolato could not
be carried on without the sinews of war. But that Job
Grimshaw should think him guilty of angling for tho
Apostle's money, and then throwing the Church overboard
— the bare notion of it was so horrible to him that ho
could not oven hold up his head to answer the taunt.
186 STRANGE STOItlES.
He sat down and buried liis crimson face in his hands ;
and Job Griinshaw, taking- up liis hat sturdily, with the
air of a man who has to perform an unpleasant duty,
loft the meeting-room abruptly without another word.
There was a gloomy Sunday dinner that morning in the
mason's cottage, and nobody seemed much inclined to
speak in any way. But as they were in the midst of their
solemn meal, a neighbour who was also a Gideonite came
in hurriedly. " It's all over," ho said, breathless—" all
over with us and with the Church. The Apostle is dead.
Ho died this morning."
Margaret Owen found voice to ask, "Before Job Grini-
shaw saw him ? "
The neighbour nodded, " Yes."
" Thank heaven for that ! " cried Paul. " Then he did
not die misunderstanding me ! "
" And you'll get his money," added the neighbour, " for
I was the other witness."
Paul drew a long breath. " I wish Meenie was here,"
he said. " 1 must see her about this."
IV.
A few days' later the Apostle was buried, and his will
was read over before the assembled Church. By earnest
persuasion of his father, Paul consented to be present,
though he feared another humiliation from Job Grimshaw.
But two days before he had taken the law into his own
hands, by writing to Meenie, at her aunt's in Eaton Place ;
and that very indiscreet young lady, in response, had
actually consented to meet him in Kensington Gardens
alone the next afternoon. There he sat with her on one
THE BACKSLIDER. 18t
of tho benches by the Serpentine, and talked the -wliolo
matter over with her to his heart's content.
" If tho money is really left to me," ho said, *' I mnst in
honour refuse it. It was left to mo to carry on tlio
Apostolato, and I can't take it on any other ground. But
what ought I to do Avith it? I can't give it over to tlio
Church, for in three days there will bo no Ohurcli left to
give it to. Wliat shall I do with it ? "
" Why," said Meenie, thouglitfully, " if I were you I
should do this. First, pay back everybody wlio contributed
towards your support in full, principal and interest ; then
borrow from the remainder as much as you require to
complete your Oxford course ; and iinally, pay back all
that and tho other money to tho fund when you are able,
and hand it over for the purpose of doing some good work
in Peckham itself, where your Church was originally
founded. If the ideal can't be fulfilled, let the money do
something good fur the actual."
" You are quite right, Meenie," said Paul, " except in
one particular. I will not borrow from tho fund for my
own su2)port. I will not touch a penny of it, temporarily
or permanently, for myself in any way. If it comes to
me, I shall make it over to trustees at (mco for some good
object, as you. suggest, and shall borruw from them five
hundred pounds to repay my own poor people, giving tho
trustees my bond to repay tho fund hereafter. I shall
fight my own battle henceforth unaided."
" You will do as you ought to do, Paul, and I am proud
of it."
So next morning, whe.i the meeting took place, Paul
felt somewhat happier in his own mind as to the course ho
should pursue with reference to Job Grimshaw.
The Senior Episcop opened and read the last will and
testament of Arthur Murgess, attorney-at-law. It pro-
vided in a few words that all his estate, real and personal,
should pass unreservedly to his friend, Paul Owen, of
ins stuange stouies.
Christchurcb, Oxfonl. It was whispered about that,
hesideH tho limisc and cjrouiids, the personalty might be
sworn at C8000, a vast sun to those simple people.
AVlien tho reading was finished, I'aul rose and addressed
the assembly, lie told tl:en\ briefly tho plan ho had
i'(jrmcd, and insisted on his determination that not a penny
of the money should bo put to his own uses. IIo would
face tho world for himself, and thanks to their kindness
lie could face it easily enough, llo would still earn and
pay back all that he owed them. IIo would uso tho fund,
"Jirst for tho good of those who had been members of the
(^'Inircli, and afterwards for the good of tho pectplo of
Pockham generally. And he thanked them frcjm the
bottom of his heart for tho kindness they had shown him.
Even Job Grimshaw could only mutter to himself that
this was not spcrritual grace, but mere worldly prido and
stubbornness, lest the lad should betray his evil designs,
which had thus availed him nothing. " lie has lost his
own soul and wrecked the Church for tho sake of the
money," Job said, "and now ho dassn't touch a fardcn
OI it.
Next John Owen rose and said slowly, " Friends, it
seems to mo we may as well all confess that this Churcli
has gone to pieces. I can't stop in it myself any longer,
for I see it's clear agin nature, and what's agin nature
can't be true." And though tho assembly said nothing, it
was plain that there were many waverers in the little
l)ody whom tlie affairs of the last week had shaken sadly
in their simple faith. Indeed, as a matter of fact, before
the end of the month tho Gideonite Churcli had melted
away, member by member, till nobody at all was left of
the whole assembly but Job Grimshaw.
" My dear," said the Eector to his wife a few weeks
later, laying do\vn his lUasfratcd, " this is really a very
curious thing. That young fellow Owen, of Christchurcb,
that Meenio fancied herself engaged to, has just come into
THE BACKS LID EE. 189
a little landed property and eight or nine thousand pounds
on his own account. Tie mu.st bo bettor connected tlian
Tom imagines. Perhaps we might make inquiries about
him after all."
The liector did make inquiries in the course of the week,
and with siucli results that he returned to the rectory iu
blank amaz-ement. " Tliat fellow's mad, Amelia," ho said,
" stark mad, if ever anybody was. Tho leader of his
Littlo Bethel, or Ebenczer, or whatever it may be, has left
him all his property absolutely, without conditions ; antl
tho idiot of a boy declares ho won't touch a penny of it,
because he's ceased to believe in their particular shibbo-
leth, and he thinks the leader wanted him to succeed him.
Very right and proper of him, of course, to leave the sect
if he can't reconcile it with his conscience, but perfectly
Quixotic of him to give up the money and beggar himself
outright. Even if his connection was otherwise desirable
(which it is far from being), it would be absurd to think
of letting Meenio marry such a ridiculous hair-brained
fellow."
Paul and Meenie, however, went their own way, as
j-oung people often will, in spite of the Kector. Paul
returned next term to Oxford, penniless, but full of veso-
lution, and by dint of taking pupils managed to eke out
his scholarship for tho next year. At the end of that time
he took his first in Greats, and shortly after gained a
fellowship. From the very first day ho began saving
money to pay off that dead weight of five hundred pounds.
The kindly ex-Gideonites had mostly protested against
his repaying them at all, but in vain : Paul would not
make his entry into life, ho said, under false pretences.
It was a hard jmll, but he did it. He took pupils, he
lectured, ho wrote well and vigorously for tho press, he
worked late and early with volcanic enel'gy ; and bj'' the
end of three years he had not only saved the whole of the
sum advanced ^y the Gideonites, but had also begun to
100 stuange stories.
put away a littlo nest-egg against his marriage with
Mcenio. And when the editor of a groat morning paper
in London offered hiiu a permanent place upon the staff,
at a largo salary, he actually went down to Worcester-
shire, saw the formidable liector himself in his own parish,
and demanded Meenie outright in marriage. And the
Hector observed to his wife that this young Owen seemed
a well-behaved and amiaWo 3'oung man ; that after all
one needn't know anytliing about his relations if ono
didn't like ; and that as Meenio had quite made up her
mind, and was as headstrong as a mule, there was no use
trying to oppose her any longer.
Down in Peckham, where I'aul Owen lives, and is loved
by half the poor of the district, no ono has forgotten who
was the real founder of the Murgess Institute, which does
so much good in encouraging tlirift, and is so admirably
managed by the founder and his wife. He would take u
house nowhere but at Peckham, he said. To the Peckham
people ho owed his education, and for the Peckham people
he Avould watch the working of his little Institute.
There is no better work being done anywhere in that
great squalid desert, the east and south-cast of London ;
there is no influence more magnetic than the founder's.
John and Margaret Owen have recovered their hopes for
their boy, only they run now in another and more feasible
direction ; and those who witness the good that is being
done by the Institute among the poor of Peckham, or who
have read that remarkable and brilliant economical work
lately published on " The Future of Co-operation in the
East End, by P. 0.," venture to believe that Meenie was
right after all, and that even the great social world itself
has not yet heard the last of young Paul Owen's lay
apostolate.
THE MYSTERIOUS OCCURRENCE
IN PICCADILLY.
I.
I REALLY never felt so profoimclly ashamed of myself in
my wliolo life as when my father-in-law, Professor W.
Bryce Murray, of Oriel College, Oxford, sent mo the last
number of the Proceedinirs of the Society for the Investi-
gation of Supernatural Phenomena. As I opened the
pamphlet, a horrible foreboding seized mo that I should
find in it, detailed at full length, with my name and
address in plain printing (not even asterisks), that extra-
ordinary story of his about the mysterious oocurrencc in
Piccadilly. I turned anxiously to page 14, which I saw
was neatly folded over at the corner; and there, sure
enough, I came upon the Professor's remarkable narrative,
which I shall simply extract here, by way of introduction,
in his own admirable and perspicuous language.
"I wish to communicate to the Society," says my
respected relation, *' a curious case of wraiths or doubles,
which came under my own personal observation, and for
which I can vouch on my own authority, and that of
my son-in-law, Dr. Owen IMansfield, keeper of Accadian
Antiquities at the British Museum. It is seldom, indeed,
that so strange an example of a supernatural phenomenon
can be independently attested by two trustworthy scientifio
observers, both still living.
102 STltANGE STORIES.
"On tho 12tli of May, ISTI)— I made a noto of ilio cir-
ciimstanco at tliotirno, and ai)i therefore able to feel perfect
coiifidenco as to the strict accuracy of my facts — I was
walkin<; down riccadilly ahout four o'clock in tho after-
noon, when I saw a sininlacruni or imago approaching mc
from tho opposite direction, exactly resembling in outer
appearance an nndergradnato of Oriel College, of tho name
of Owen Manslield. It mnst bo carefully boruo in mind
that at this tirao 1 was not related or connected with Mr.
Manslield in any way, his marriage with my daughter
having taken place some eleven months later: I only knew
him then as a promising junior member of my own College.
I was just about to ai)proach and address Mr. Mansfield,
when a most singular and mysterious event took place. Tho
fiimulacrum appeared spontaneously to glide iip towards rae
with a peculiarly rapid and noiseless motion, waved a wand
or slalY which it bore in its hands thrice round my head, and
then vanislicd hastily in tho direction of an hotel which
stands at tho corner of Albemarle Street. I followed it
quickly to tho door, but on inquiry of the porter, I learned
that he himself had observed nobody enter. The simula-
crum Koems to have dissipated it^:elf or become invisible
suddenly in tho very act of passing through the folding
glass portals which give access to tho hotel from Piccadilly.
" That same evening, by the last post, I received a
hastily-written noto from Mr. Mansfield, bearing the
Oxford postmark, dated Oriel College, 5 p.m., and relating
the facts of an exactly similar apparition which had mani-
fested itself to him, with absolute simultaneity of occur-
rence. On the very day and hour when I had seen Mr.
Mansfield's wraith in Piccadilly, Mr. Mansfield himself
was walking down the Corn Market in Oxford, in tho
direction of the Taylor Institute. As he approached the
corner, he saw what he took to be a vision or image of
myself, his tutor, moving towards him in my usual
leisurely manner. Suddenly, as ho was on tho point of
THIJ MYSTI'ItlOUS OCCUllRESCE IN PICCADILLY. VJW
adflrcFsinc^ mc villi ropiard to my Aristotlo lectuio tlio
next moniing, the im.'i^i; j^lidcd up to Lim in a nipitl and
evasive manner, shook a pjrcen silk nniLrella with a rhino-
ceros-horn handle three times around his head, and then
di.sai)poarcd ineomprehensibly through tho door of tho
liandolph Hotel. Iieturning to college in a stato oi*
breathless alarm and surprise, at what ho took to bo an
act of ineii)ient insanity or extreme inebriation on my
part, Mr. ]\Iansfield learnt from tho porter, to his intense
astonishment, tliat i was at that moment actually iu
London. Unable to conceal his amazement at this strange
event, ho wrote me a full account of tho facts Avhilo they
wero still fresh in his memory : and as I preserve his noto
to this day, I append a copy of it to my present communi-
cation, for publication in tho Society's Transactions.
" There is one small point in tho above narrative to
which I would wish to call special attention, and that is
the accuiato descriplion given by Mr. MansReM of the
umbrella carried by tho apparition he observed in Oxford.
Tliis umbrella exact!}'' coincided in every particular with
tho one I was then actually carrying in Piccadilly. But
what is truly remarkable, and what stamps tho occurrence
as a genuine case of supernatural intervention, is the fact
that Mr. Mamfidd could not possibly ever have seen that
umhrclla in »?,y hands, hccam^c I had only just that afternoon
purchased it at a shop in Bond Street. This, to my mind,
conclusively proves that no mere elTort of fancy or visual
delusion based upon prnvious memories, vaguo or conscious,
could have had anything whatsoever to do with Mr.
Mansfield's observation at le'ist. It was, in short, dis-
tinctly an olijectivo apparition, as distinguished from a
mere subjectivo rorainiscenco or hallucination."
As I laid down the Proceedings on the breakfast table
with a sigh, I said t) my wife (who had been looking over
my shoulder whilo I read) : " Now, Nora, we're really in
for it. What on earth do you suppose I'd better do ?"
lOi STRANGE STOIUES.
Nora looked at mo with licr laughing eyes laughing
harder and brighter than over. "My dear Owen," bho
Baid, putting tlio Proceedings promptly into tho waste
paper basket, "there's really nothing on earth possible
now, except to make a clean breast of it."
I groaned. " I suppose you're right," I answered, " but
it's a precious awkward thing to havo to do. However,
hero goes." So I sat down at once with pen, ink, and
paper at my desk, to draw up this present narrative as
to tho real facts about tho " Mysterious Occurrence in
Piccadilly."
II.
In 1873 I was a fourth-year man, going in for my
Cu'cats at tho June examination. But as if Aristotle and
Mill and the affair of Corcyra were not enough to occupy
one young fellow's head at the age of twenty-three, I had
foolishly gone and fallen in love, undergraduate fashion,
with the only really pretty girl (I insist upon putting it,
though Nora has struck it out with her pen) in all Oxford.
She was tho daughter of ray tutor, Professor Bryco Murray,
and her name (as the astute reader will already have
inferred) was Nora.
The Professor had lost his wife somo years before, and
he was left to bring up Nora by his own devices, with the
aid of his sister, Miss Lydia Amelia Murray, the well-
known advocate of female education, woman's rights,
anti-vaccination, vegetarianism, the Tichborno claimant,
and psychic force. Nora, however, had no fancy for any
of these multifarious interests of her aunt's : I have reason
to believe she takes rather after her mother's family : and
Miss Lydia Amelia Murray early decided that she was a
THE MYSTERIOUS OCCUJIRENCE IN PICCADILLY. 105
<j;iil of no intellectual tastes of any sort, who liaci bettor
Ijo kept at school at South Kensington as much as possible.
Especially did Aunt Lydia hold it to bo undcsirublo that
Nora should ever como in contact with that very objec-
tionablo and wholly antagonistic animal, tho Oriel under-
graduate. Undergraduates were well known to laugh
openly at woman's rights, to devour underdone beefsteaks
with savage persistence, and to utter most irreverent and
ribald jests about psychic force.
Still, it is quite impossible to keep the orbit of a Pro-
fessor's daughter from occasionally crossing that of a
stray meteoric undergraduate. Nora only came home to
Oxford in vacation time: but during the preceding Long
I had stopped up for tho sake of pursuing my Accadian
.studies in a quiet spot, and it was then that I first quite
accidentally met Nora. I was canoeing on tho Cherwell
ono afternoon, when I came across tho Professor and his
daughter in a punt, and saw the prettiest girl in all Oxford
actually holding tho pole in her own pretty little hands,
while that lazy old man lolled back at his case with a
book, on tho luxurious cushions in tho stern. As I passed
tho punt, I capped the Professor, of course, and looking
back a minute later I observed that tho pretty daughter
had got her pole stuck fast in tho mud, and couldn't, with
all her force, pull it out again. In another minute sho
had lost her hold of it, and the punt began to drift of
iUoU down the river towards Iffley.
Common politeness naturally mado mo put back my
canoe, extricate the pole, and hand it as gracefully as I
could to tho Professor's daughter. As I did so, I attempted
to raise ray straw hat cautiously with ono hand, while I
gave back tho polo with the other : an aitempt which of
course compelled me to lay down my paddle on the front
of the canoG, as I happen to be only provided with two
hands, instead of four like our earlier ancestors. I don't
know whether it was my instantaneous admiration for
IOC STRANGE STOPdES.
Xora's pretty Llnsli, wlilcli distracted my attention from
tlio purely practical question of equilibrium, or whether it
was her own awkwardness and modesty in talcing the pole,,
or finally whether it was iny tutor's freezing look that
utterly disconcerted mo, hnt at any rate, just at that
moment, something unluckily (or rather luckily) caused
mo to lose my balance altogether. Now, everybody knows
that a canoo is very easily upset : and in a moment, before
I knew exactly whore I was, I found tho canoo floating
bottom upward about three yards away from me, and
myself standing, safe and dry, in my tutor's punt, beside
his pretty blushing daughter. I had felt tho canoe turn-
ing over as I handed back tho pole, and had instinctively
jumped into the safer refuge of the punt, which saved mo
at least tho ignominy of appearing before Miss Nora
Murray in tho ungraceful attitude of clambering back,
wet and dripping, into an upset canoe.
Tho inexorable logic of facts had thus convinced tho
Professor of tho impossibility of keeping all undergraduates
permanently at a safe distance : and there was nothing
open for him now except resignedly to acquiesce in tho
situation so created for him. However much ho might
object to my presence, ho could hardly, as a Christian and
a gentleman, request me to jump in and swim after my
canoe, or even, when we had at last successfully brought
it alongside witli the aid of tlio pole, to seat myself onco
more on tho soaking cushions. After all, my mishap had
come about in the endeavour to render him a service : so
he was fain with what grace he could to let me relieve his
daughter of tho pole, and punt him back as far as the
barges, with my own moist and uncomfortable bark trail-
ing casually from the stern.
As for Nora, being thus thrown unexpectedly into tho
dangerous society of that gruesome animal, the Oriel
undergraduate, I think I may venture to say (from my
subsequent experience) that she was not wholly disposed
TUE MYSTERIOUS OCCUUREXCE IX nCCADILLT. 197
to regard the creaturo as eitlior so objection able or so
ferocious as she had been previously led to imagine. We
got on togclhcr so -well that I eonld see the Professor
growing visibly wrathful about the corners of the mouth :
and by the time wo reached the barges, ho could barely
be civil enough to say Good morning to me when wo
parted.
An introduction, however, no matter how obtained, is
really in these matters absolutely everything. As long
as you don't know a pretty girl, 3'ou don't know her, and
you can't take a step in advance without an introduction.
l^ut when once you do know her, heaven and 'earth and
aunts and fathers may try their hardest to prevent you,
and yet whatever they try they can't keep you out. I
was so far struck with Nora, that I boldly ventured when-
over I met her out walking with her father or her aunt,
to join myself to the party : and though tlwy never
hesitated to showrao that my presence was not rapturously
welcomed, they couldn't well say to mo point-blank, "Ilavo
the goodness, Mr. Mansfield, to go away and not to speak
to me again in future." So the end of it was, tliat before
the beginning of October terra, Nora and I understood one
another perfectly, and had even managed, in a few minutes'
fete-a-trte in the parks, to whisper to one another the
ingenuous vows of sweet seventeen and two-and-twenty.
When the Professor discovered that I had actually
-written a letter to his daughter, marked " Private and
Confidential," his wrath knew no bounds. lie sent for
me to his rooms, and spoke to me severely. " I've half
a mind, ^Mansfield," he said, " to bring the matter before
a college meeting. At any rate, this conduct must not bo
repeated. If it is. Sir," — he didn't finish the sentence,
preferring to terrify me by the effective figure of speech
which commentators describe as an aposiopesis : and I left
him with a vague sense that if it toas repeated I should
probably incur the penalties of prsemunire (whatever they
198 STBAXGE STOIiTES.
may Lo), or bo hanged, drawn, and quartered, with my
head finally stuck as an adornment on the acute wings of
tho Griffin, vice Temple Bar removed.
Next day, Nora met mo casually at a confectioner's in
the High, where I will frankly confess that I was engaged
in exporinienting upon tlio relative merits of raspberry
cream and lemon water ices. She gave mc her hand
timidly, and whispered to mo half under her breath,
*' Tapa's so dreadfully angry, Owen, and I'm afraid I shall
never be able to meet you any more, fur he's going to send
mo back this very afternoon to South Kensington, and
keep mo away from Oxford altogether in future." I saw
her eyes were red with crying, and that sho really thought
our little romance was entirely at an end.
" My darling Nora," I replied in an undertone, " even
South Kensington is not so unutterably remote that I
shall never be able to see you there. Write to me when-
ever you are able, and let me know where I can write to
you. ]\[y dear little Nora, if there were a hundred papas
and a thousand Aunt Lydias interposed in a square
between rls, don't you know we should manage all tho
aame to love ono another and to overcome all difficulties? "
Nora smiled and half cried at once, and then discreetly
turned to order half a pound of glace cherries. And that
was tho last that I saw of her for the time at Oxford.
During the next term or two, I'm afraid I must admit
that tho relations between my tutor and myself Avcro
distinctly strained, so much so as continually to threaten
tho breaking out of open hostilities. It wasn't merely
that Nora was in question, but the Professor also suspected
me of jeering in private at his psychical investigations.
And if the truth must bo told, I will admit that his
suspicions were not wholly without justification. It
began to be whispered among tho undeigraduates just
then that the Professor and his sister had taken to turn-
ing ])lancheUes, interrogating easy-chairs, and obtaining,
THE MYSTEHIOUS OCCUBREXCE IX PICCADILLY. lOO
inlorcsting details about tlio present abode of Sbakespearo
or Milton from intelligent and -well-informed five-o'clock
tea-tables. It had long been well known that the Pro-
fessor took a deep interest in haunted houses, considered
that the portents recorded by Livy must have something
in them, and declared himself unable to bo sceptical as to
facts wliich had convinced such great men as Tlato, Seneca,
and Samuel Johnson. But the table-turning was a now
fad, and wo noisy undergraduates occasionally amused
ourselves by getting up an amateur seance, in imitation of
tho Professor, and eliciting psychical truths, often couched
in a surprisingly slangy or even indecorous dialect, from
a very lively though painfully irreverent spirit, wlio dis-
coursed to us through the material intervention of a
rickety what-not. However, as the only mediums wo
emjiloyed were tho very unprofessional ones of two plain
decanters, respectively containing port and sherry, tho
Professor (who was a teetotaler, and who paid five guineas
a senncG for the services of that distinguished psychical
specialist, 13r, Grade) considered tho interesting results
wo obtained as wholly beneath the dignity of scientific
inquiry. lie even most unworthily endeavoured to stifio
research by gating us all ono evening when a materialized
spirit, assuming the outer form of the junior exhibitioner,
sang a comic song of the period in a loud voice with the
windows open, and accompanied itself noisily with a
psychical tattoo on the rickety what-not. Tho Professor
went so far as to observe sarcastically that our results
appeared to him to be rather spirituous than spiritual.
On May 11, 1873 (I will endeavour to rival tho Professor
in accuracy and preciseness), I got a short note from dear
Nora, dated from South Kensington, which I, too (thougli
not from psychical motives), have carefully preserved. I
will not publish it, however, either here or in tho Society's
Proceedings, for reasons which will probably be obvious
to any of my readers who happen ever to have been placed
200 STPiAXGE STORIES.
ill similar circninstauccs tlioivisclves. DIscnGraonnpr tho
kernf'l of fact from tho irrelevant matter in which it was
jniljcddccl, I raav state that Xora wrote mo somewhat to
this eflect. She .was !j;oing next day to the Academy with
tho parents of scjmo schoolfellow; could I mana^^e to run
lip to town for tho day, p;o to the Academy myself, and
meet her "qnito accidentally, yon know, dear," iu tho
AVator-colour room abont half-past eleven?
This was ratlier awkward ; for next (Uiy, as it happened,
was precisely tho Professor's moriiinjj; for tho Herodotus
lecture ; hut circum^itances like mine at that moment
know no law. So I succeeded iu excusing myself from
attendance somehow or other (I hope trutlifally) and took
the nine a.m. express up to town. Shortly :ifter eleven I
was at the Academy, and waiting av.xiously for Xora's
arrival. That dear little hypocrite, tho moment she saw
mo approach, assumed such an inimitable air of infantile
surprise and innocent ])leasuro at my unexpected appear-
ance that I positively blushed for her wicked powers of
deception.
*' You here, Mr. IMansfield ! " she cried in a tone of the
most apparently unaffected astonishment, "why, I thought
it was full term time ; surely you ought to bo up at
Oriel."
*' So I am," I answered, " ofiicially ; but in my private
ca})acity I've come up for the day to look at the pictures."
"Oh, lirw nice!" said that shocking littlo Nora, with
a smile that was childlike and bland. '• Mr, Mansneld is
such a great critic, Mrs. AVorplcsdon ; ho knows all about
art, and artists, and so on. He'll bo able to tell us which
pictures wo ought to admire, you know, and which aren't
Avorth looking at. Mr. Worplesdon, let me introduce j'ou;
Mrs. Worplesdon — Miss Woridesdou. How very lucky
Avo should have happened to come across you, Mr. Mans-
iicld ! "
The Worplesdons fell immediately, like lambs, into the
TITE MYSTERIOUS OCCURIlENCE IN PICCADILLY. 201
trap so infjjcnuouislv spread fur them. Indeed, I liavo
always noticed that ninety -nine per cent, of the British
public^ when turned into an art-gallery, are only too glad
to accept the opinion of anybody whatsoever, who is bold
enough to have one, and to express it openly. Having
thus been thru.st by Nora into the arduous position of
critic by appointment to tlie Worplesdon party, I delivered
myself ex cathedra forthwith upon the merits and dcmerita
ol' the entire c.\liibition; and I was so successful in my
critical views that I not only produced an inimenso
impression upon Mr. \Vor[)lesdon himself, but also
observed many ladies in the neighbourhood nudge one
another as they gazed intently backward and forward
between wall and catalogue, and heard tliem whisper
audibly among themselves, " A gentleman here says the
flesh tones on that shoulder are simply marvellous ; " or,
*' That artist in the tweed suit behind us thinks the care-
less painting of the ferns in the foreground quite unworthy
of such a colourist as Daubiton." So highly was my
criticism appreciated, in fact, that Mr. Worplesdon even
invited me to lunch with Isora and his part}' at a neigh-
bouring restaurant, where I spent the most delightful
hour I had passed for the last half-year, in the company
of that naughty mendacious little schemer.
About four o'clock, howevca*, the Worplesdons departed,
taking Nora with them to South Kensington; and I pre-
pared to walk back in the direction of Paddington, mean-
ing to catch an evening train, and return to Oxford. I
Avas strolling in a leisurely fashion along Piccadilly
towards the Park, and louking into all the photographers'
windows, when suddenly an awful apparition loomed upon
me — the Professor himself, coming round the corner from
Bond Street, folding up a new rhinoceros-handled umbrella
as he walked along. In a moment I felt that all was lost.
I was up in town without leave; the Professor would
certainly see me and recognize me ; he would ask mo how
202 STRANGE STOPJES.
and why I had loft the University, contrary to rules : and
I must then either tell him the whole truth, which would
get Nora into a fearful scrape, or else run the risk of being
sent down in disgrace, which might prevent me from
taking a degree, and would at least cause my father and
mother an immense deal of unmerited trouble.
Like a flash of lightning, a wild idea shot instan-
taneously across my brain. Might I j)rctend to be my
own double? The Professor was profoundly superstitious
on the subject of wraiths, apparitions, ghosts, brain-waves,
and supernatural appearances generally ; if I could only
man-igo to impose upon him for a moment by doing some-
thing outrageously uncommon or eccentric, I might
succeed in stifling further inquiry by setting him from
the beginning on a false track which he was naturally
prone to follow. Before I had time to reflect upon the
consequences of my act, the wild idea had taken jiossessiou
of mo, body and soul, and had worked itself out in action
with all the rapidity of a mad impulse. I rushed frantic-
ally up to the Professor, with my eyes iixed in a vacant
stare on a point in space somewhere above the tops of the
chimney-pots : I waved my stick three times mysteriously
around his head; and then, without giving him time to
recover from his surprise or to address a single word to
me, I bolted off in a Ked Indian dance to the nearest
corner.
There was an hotel there, which I had often noticed
before, though I had never entered it ; and I rushed
wildly in, meaning to get out as best I could when the
Professor (who is very short-sighted) had passed on along
Piccadilly in search of me. But fortune, as usual,
favoured the bold. Luckily, it was a corner house, and, to
my surprise, I found when I got inside it, that the hall
opened both ways, with a door on to the side street. Th&
porter was looking away as I entered ; so I merely ran in
of one door and out of the other, never stopping till I met
THE MYSTERIOUS OCCURIiEXCE IN FICCADILLY. 203
a hansom, into which I jumped and ordered the man to
drive to Paddington. I jiist caught tho 4.35 to Oxford,
and by a little over six o'clock I was in my own rooms at
Oriel.
It was very wrong of mc, indeed; I acknowledge it
now ; but tho whole thing had flashed across my under-
graduate mind so rapidly that I carried it out in a
moment, bofi^ro I could at all realize what a very foolish
act 1 was reallv committing. To take a rise out of tho
Professor, and to save Nora an angry interview, were tho
only ideas that occurred to mo at tho second : when I
began to reflect upon it afterwards, I was conscious that
I had really practised a very gross and wicked deception.
Uowever, there was no help for it now ; and as I rolled
along in tho train to Oxford, I felt that to save myself
and Nora from utter disgrace, I must carry tho plot out to
tho end without flinching. It then occurred to mo that a
double apparition would be more in accordance with all
recognized principles of psychical manifestation than a
single one. At Heading, therefore, I regret to say, I
bought a pencil, and a sheet of paper, and an envelope ;
and before I reached Oxford station, I had Avritten to tho
Professor what I now blush to acknowledge as a tissue of
shocking fables, in which I paralleled every particular of
my own behaviour to him by a similar imaginary piece
of behaviour on his part to me, only changing the scene
to Oxford. It was awfuUv wrong, I admit. At the time,
however, being j'et but little more than a schoolboy, after
all, I regarded it simply in the light of a capital practical
joke. I informed the Professor gravely how I had seen
him at four o'clock in the Corn Market, and how astonished
I was when I found him waving his green silk umbrella
three times wildly around my head.
The moment I arrived at Oxford, I dashed up to college
in a hansom, and got the Professor's address in Londort
from the porter. He had gone up to town for the night, it
iOl tiTRAMU: STOIllES.
seemed, prol)al)ly to visit Nora, juid would not Ijo back in
college till the next morning. Then I rushed down to
tlie poHt-offico, where I was just in tiino (with an extra
fitamp) to catch tlio lust ])ost fur that night's delivery.
The moment the letter was in tlio box, I repented, and
began to fear I liad gone too far : and when I got back to
my own rooms at last, and went down late for dinner in
liall, I confess I trembled not a little, as to the possible
cft'ect of my quite too bold and palpable imposition.
Next morning by the second post I got a long letter
from the Professor, which completely relieved me from all
immediate anxiety as to liis interpretation of my conduct,
lie rose to the fly with a charming simplicity which
showed how delighted ho was at this personal confirma-
tion of all his own most cherished superstitions. "My
dear Mansfield," his letter began, " now hear what, at the
very selfsame hour and minute, happened to mo in Picca-
dilly." In fact, he had swallowed the whole thing entire,
Mithout a single moment's scepticism or hesitation.
From what I heard afterwards, it was indeed a lucky
thing for mo that I had; played him this shocking trick,
for Nora believes ho was then actually on his way to
South Kensington on purpose to forbid her most strin-
gently from holding any further communication with mo
in any way. But as soon as this mysterious event took
place, he began to change his mind about me altogether.
»So remarkable an apparition could not have happened
except for some good and weighty reason, he argued : and
he suspected that the reason might have something to do
with my intentions towards Nora. Why, when he was on
his way to warn her against me, should a vision, bearing
my outer and bodily shape, come straight across his path,
and by vehement signs of displeasure, endeavour to turn
him from his purpose, unless it were clearly well for Nora
that my attentions should not be discouraged ?
From that day forth the Professor began to ask me to
THE MYSTERIOUS OCCUR RKSCE IN V ICC AD ILLY. '20.-»
his rooms iiiid aildross luo far more coidially tliun Ik^ usoil
to do ))cforc : ho oven, on tlio .strength of my singular
adventure, invited mo to assist at ouo or two of liis
psychical sifoirrs. Here, I must confess, I was not entirely
successful : tlio distinguished medium complained that I
exerted a repellent eft'eet upon the spirits, who seemed to
te hurt hy luy want of generous confidenco in their good,
intentions, ami hy my sus]ueious habit of keeping my eyes
too sharply fixed upon the? legs of the tables. Jle declared
that when I was present, an adverse influenco seemed to
pervade the room, due, a[>parently, to my painful lack of
spiritual sympathies. But the Professor condoned my
failure in the regular psychical lino, in consideration of my
brilliant success as a belioldcr of Avraiths and visions.
After I took my degree that summer, ho used all his
influenco to procure mo the post of keeper of the Accadian
Antiquitic s at the ]\luseum, for which my previous studies
had excellently fitted me : and by his friendly aid I was
enabled to obtain tlio post, though I regret to say that, in
spite of his credulity in supernatural matters, lie still
refuses to believe in tlio correctness of my conjectural
interpretation of the celebrated Amalckito cylinders im-
ported by Mr. Ananias, which I have deciphered in so
very simple and satisfactory a manner. As everybody
knows, my translation may bo regarded as perfectly
certain, if only one makes the very modest assumption
that the cylinders were originally engraved upside down
by an Aztec captive, who had learned broken Accadian,
with a bad accent, from a Chinese exile, and who occasion-
ally employed Egyptian hieroglyphics in incorrect senses,
to piece out his own very imperfect idiom and doubtful
spelling of the early Babylonian language. The solitary
real doubt in the matter is whether certain extraordinary
marks in the upper left-hand corner of the cylinder are
to be interpreted as accidental scratches, or as a picture
representing the triumph of a king over seven bound
20G STUANGE STOltlES.
prisoners, or, finally, us un Accadiun sentence In cunei-
forraa wliieli may Lo translated either as "To tlio memory
of Om the Clreat," or else as " Pitlior the Hij;h Priest
tledicatcs a fat j^ooso to the family dinner on tlio 2r)tli of
the month of midwinter." Every candid and unprejudiced
mind must admit tliat these small discrepancies or altei'na-
tivcs in the opinions of experts can cast no doubt at all
upon the general soundness of the method employed. Hut
persons like the Professor, while ready to accept any
evidence at all where their own prepossessions are con-
cerned, can never be induced to believe such plain and
unvarnished statements of simple scientific knowledge.
However, the end of it all was that before I had been a
month at tho Museum, I had obtained the Pi-ofessor's
consent to my marriage with Nora: and as I had had
Nora's own consent long before, wo were duly joined
together in holy matrimony early in October at Oxford,
and came at once to live in Hampstead. So, as it tui-ned
out, I finally owed the sweetest and best little wife in all
Christendom to the my bterious occurrence in I'iccadilly.
CARVALI/0,
I.
TiiH first time I over met Ernest Carvalho was just
before the regimental Janco at Newcastle. I had ridden
up the Port lioyal mountains that same morning from
our decaying sugar estate in the liiguanea plain, and I
was to stop in cantonments with the 3Iajor's wife, fat
little Mrs. Vrnn, who had promised my mother that she
would undertake to rJia2)cron mo to this my earliest
military party. I won't deny that I looked forward to
it immensely, for I was llien a girl of only eighteen,
fresh out from school in England, where I had been living
away from our family ever since I was twelve years old.
Dear mamma was a Jamaican lady of the old school,
completely overpowered by the ingrained West Indian
indolence ; and if I had waited to go to a dance till I
could get her to accompany me, 1 might have waited
till Doomsday, or probably later. So 1 was glad enough
to accept fat little Mrs. W'un's proffered protection, and
to go up the hills on my sure-footed mountain pony ;
while Isaac, the black stable-boy, ran up behind me
carrying on his thick head the small portmanteau that
contained my plain white ball-dress.
As I went up the steep mountain-path alone — for ladies
ride only with such an unmounted domestic escort in
Jamaica — I happened to overtake a tall gentleman with a
208 STUAXai: STOliJES.
hantlsomo rathor Jewish faoo mid a pair of cxtrntnoly
lustrons Mack eyes, who was iiiountoil on a hcaniifiil
chcKtnut mare jiiHt in iVoiit of me. Tho li()i'so-})atlis in
the Port It(jyal mountains are very narrow, l)ein;^ mero
zipi'/ag le(l;j;cs cut half-way n\) tlio preeipitotis j^reen skipcs
of fern and elub-moss, k) that there is s(d(h)ni room for
two horses to pass al»reast, and it is necessary to wait al
somo convenient cornei- whenever you see another rider
coniinj^ in the opposite direction. At tho first opportunity
the tall Jowish-lookiuj; gentleman drew aside in such a
a corner, and waited for mo to pass. " I'ray don't wait,"
I said, as soon as I saw what he meant ; •" your horso will
get up faster than my pony, and if I go in front I shall
keep you l;)ack unnecessarily."
" Not at all," ho answered, raising his hat gracefully ;
*'you aro a stranger in the hills, I see. It is tho rulo of
these mountain-paths always to givo a lady tho lead. If
I go first and my maro breaks into a canter on a bit
of level, your pony will try to catch her up on the stcej)
slopes, and that is always dangerous."
Seeing ho did not intend to move till T did, I waived
tho point at last and took the lead. From that moment I
don't know what on earth came over my la/.y old pony.
Ho refused to go at more than a walk, or at best a jog-trot,
the whole way to Newcastle. Now the rise from the
plain to tho cantonments is about four thousand feet,
I think (I am a dreadfully bad hand at remembering
figures), and tho distance can't bo much less, I suppose,
than seven miles. During all that time 3'ou never seo
a soul, except a few negro pickaninnies playing in tho
dustheaps, not a human habitation, except a, few huts
embowered in mangoes, hibiscus-bushes, and tree-ferns.
At first wo kept a decorous silence, not having been in-
troduced to one another ; but the stranger's maro followed
close at my pony's heels, pull her in as he would, and
it seemed really too ridiculous to bo solemnly pacing
CMiVALIlO. 20a
after ono another, siiif;le file, in tliis -\v;iy for a mujilo <»f
huuni, without Hjieakiupj a -word, out of puro jtunctilions-
ncH.s. So at last wo hroko tho ice, and hm^ bcfoio wo
^nt to Newcastle wo had struck up (|uite an ac(iuaint-
anco with ono another. It is wonderful how well tw(>
people can get mutually known in the courno of two
hours' tiUc-h-trtOf especially under such peculiar circuni.
stances. You are just near enough to one another for
friendly chat, and yet not too near for casual strangers.
And then Isaac with tho portnuuiteau hehind was (|uito
siifiicicnt escort to satisfy the cunveudnrcs. In England,
one's groom would have to bo mounted, which always
seems to mo, in my simi)licity, a distinction without a
din'erenco.
]\[r. Carvalho was on his way up to Newcastle on tho
same 'errand as myself, to go to the dance, lie might
have been twenty, I suppose; and, to a girl of eighteen,
boys of twenty seem quite men already. Ho was a clerk
in a Government Oftico in Kingston, and w^as going to stop
with a sul) at Newcastle for a w^eek or two, on leave. I
did not know much about men in those days, but I needed
little knowledge of tho subject to tell mo that Ernest
Carvalho was decidedly clever. As soon as tho first chill
woro olf our conversation, he kept mo amused tho whole
Avay by his bright sketchy talk about tho petty dignitaries
of a colonial capital. There was his Excellency for tho
time being, and thero was the Eight Reverend of that
daj', and thero was tho Jlonourablo Colonial Secretary,
and there was tho Ilonourablo Director of Eoads, and
there wero a number of other assorted ITonourables, whoso
queer little peculiarities ho hit off dexterously in tho
quaintest manner. Not that there was any unkindly
satire in his brilliant conversation ; on tho contrary, he
evidently liked most of tho men ho talked about, and
seemed only to read and realize their characters so
thoroughly that they spoke for themselves in his dra-
p
210 STRANGE STOItlES.
matic anecdotes. IIo appeared to mo a more genial copy
of Thackeray in a colonial society, with all the sting
gone, and only tlio skilful delineation of men and women
loft. I had never met anyl)ody before, and I have never
met anybody since, who struck mo so instantaneously with
the idea of innate genius as Ernest Carvalho.
" You have been in England, of course," I said, as we
were nearing Newcastle.
" No, never," ho answered ; " I am a Jamaican born
and bred, I have never been out of the island,"
I was surprised, for he seemed so different from any of
the young planters I had met at our house, most of whom
had never oj)ened a book, apparently, in the course of
their lives, while Mr. Carvalho's talk was full of indefinite
literary flavour. " Whe^'o were you educated, then ? " I
asked.
*' I never was educated anywhere," he answered, laughing.
" I went to a small school at Port Antonio during my
father's life, but for the most part I have picked up
whatever I know (and that's not much) wholly by
myself. Of course French, like reading and writing,
comes by nature, and I got enough Sjpanish to dip into
Cervantes from the (Juban refugees. Latin one has to
grind up out of books, naturally; an.1 as for Greek, I'm
sorry to say I know very little, though, of course, I
can spell out Homer a bit, and even iEschylus. But
my hobby is natural science, and there a fellow has to
make his own way here, for hardly anything has been
done at the beasts and the flowers in the West Indies
yet. But if I live, I mean to work them up in time,
and I've made a fair beginning already."
This reasonable list of accomplishments, given modestly,
not boastfully, by a young man of twenty, wholly self-
taught, fairly took my breath away. I was inspired at
once with a secret admiration for Mr. Carvalho. He
was so handsome and so clever that I think I was half-
CARVALnO. 211
inclined to fall in lovo with him at first sight. To say
tho truth, I believe almost all love is love at first sight;
and for my own part, I wouldn't give you a thank-you for
any other kind.
" Here we must part," he said, as wo reached a fork in
the narrow path just outside the steep hog's hack on which
Newcastle stands, " unless you will allow me to see you
safely as far as Mrs. A'enn's. The path tt) the right leads
to the Major's quarters ; this on tho left takes me to my
friend Cameron's hut. May I see you to tho Major's
door?"
" Xo, thank you," I answered decidedly ; " Isaac is
escort Ciiough. Vie shall meet again this evening."
" Perhaps then," he suggested, " I may have tho pleasure
of a dance with you. Of course it's (piite irregular of mo
to ask you now, hut wo shall be formally introduced no
doubt to-night, and I'm afraid if you lunch at tho Venus'
your card will be filled up by the 99th men before I can
edge myself in anywhere for a dance. Will you allow
me?"
"Certainly," I said; "what shall it be? Tho first
waltz?"
" You are very kind," he answered, taking out a pencil.
^' You know my name — Carvalho ; what may I put down
for yours? I haven't heard it yet."
" Miss Ilazleden," I replied, " of Palmettos."
Mr. Carvalho gave a little start of surprise. " Miss
Ilazleden of Palmettos," he said half to himself, with
a rather pained expression. " Miss Ilazleden ! Then,
perhaps, I'd better — well, why not? why not, indeed?
Palmettos — Yes, I will." Turning to mo, he said, louder,
*' Thank yon ; till this evening, then ; " and, raising his
hat, he hurried sharply round tho corner of the hill.
What was there in my name, I wondered, which mado
him so evidently hesitate and falter ?
Fat little Mrs. Venn was very kind, and not a very
212 STJiANGi: SrOlilES.
strict cliapcron, Liit I judged it best not to mention to lier
this romantic episode of the handsome stranger. How-
ever, during the course of lunch, I ventured casually to
ask her husband whether he knew of any family in.
Jamaica of the name of Carvalho.
" Carvalho," answered the Major, " bless my soul, yes.
Old settled family in the island ; Jews ; live down Savan-
nali-la-Mar way; been hero ever since the Spanish time;
doocid clever fellows, too, and. rich, most of them."
"Jews," I thought; "ah, yes, Mr. Carvalho had a very
handsome Jewish typo of face and dark eyes; but, why,
yes, surely 1 heard him speak several times of having
been to church, and once of the Cathedral at Spanish
Town. This was curious."
"Are any of them Christians?" I asked again.
" Not a man," answered the Major ; " nut a man, my
dear. Good old Jewish family ; Jews in Jamaica never
turn Christians ; nothing to gain by it."
Tlio dance took place in the big moss-room, looking out
on the fan-palms and tree-ferns of the regimental garden.
It was a lovely tropical night, moonlight of course, for all
Jamaican entertainments are given at full moon, so as to
let the people who ride from a distance get to and fro
safely over the breakneck mou\itain horse-paths. The
windows, wliich oi)en down to the ground, were flung wide
for the sake of ventilation ; and thus the terrace and garden
were made into a sort of vestibulo where partners might
promenade and cool themselves among the tropical flowers
after the heat of dancing. And yet, I don't know how it
is, though the climate is so hot in Jamaica, I never danced
anywhere so much or felt the heat so little oppressive.
Before the first waltz, Mr. Carvalho came up, accompanied
by my old friend Dr. AVade, and was properly introduced
to me. By that time my card was pretty full, for of course
I was a belle in those days, and being just fresh out from
England was rather run after. But I will confess that
CARVALIIO. 2I:T
I had taken the liberty of filling in three later waltzes
(unasked) with Mr. Carvalho's name, fm' I know by his
very look that he could wiiUt; divinely, and I do love a
good partner. lie did wait/ divinely, but at the end of
the dance I was really afraid ho didn't mean to ask me
again. When he did, a little hesitatingly, 1 said I had
still three vacancies, and found he had not yet asked any-
body else. I enjoyed those four dances more than any
others that evening, the more so, perliaps, as I saw my
cousin, Harry Verner of Agualta, was dying with jeah^isy
because I danced so much with jMr. Carvalho.
I must just say a word or two about Harry Verner. IIo
was a planter j>ur saiKj, and Agualta was one of the few
really flourishing sugar estates then left on tlie island.
Harry w^as, therefore, naturally regarded as rather a
catch ; but, for my part, I could never caro for any nui'i
who has only three subjects of conversation — hiniself,
vacuum-pan sugar, and the wickedness of the French
bounty system, which keeps the poor planter out of his
own. So I danced away with ^Mr. Carvalho, partly
because I liked him just a little, you know, but partly,
also, I will frankly admit, because 1 saw it annoyed Harry
Verner.
At the end of our fourth dance, I was strolling witli
Mr. Carvalho among the great bushy poinsettias and
plumbagos on the terrace, under the beautiful soft green
light of that tropical moon, when Harry Verner came from
one of the windows directly upon us. " I suppose you've
forgotten, Edith," he said, " that you're engaged to me for
the next lancers. Mr. (Jarvalho, I kncjvv you are to dance
with Miss AVade ; hadn't you better go and look for your
partner ? "
He spoke pointedly, almost rudely, and Mr. Carvalho
took the hint at once. As soon as he was gone, Harry
turned round to ine fiercely and said in a low angry voice,
" You shall not dance this lancers, you shall sit it out with
214 STRAXGE STORIES.
mo here in the garden ; como over to the seat in the far
corner."
Ho led mo resistlcssly to tho seat, away from the noiso
of tho re<;iraental band and the dancers, and then sat him-
self down at the far end from me, like a great surly bear
that ho was.
'* A pretty fool yon'vo been making of yourself to-night,
Edith," ho said in a tone of suppressed anger, " with that
fellow Carvalho. Do you know who he is, miss? Do
you know who he is ? "
" No," I answered faintly, fearing ho was going to assure
mo tliat my clever new acquaintance was a notorious
swindler or a runaway ticket-of-leave man.
" Well, then, I'll tell you," he cried angrily. " I'll tell
you. He's a coloured man, miss ! that's what ho is."
" A coloured man ? " I exclaimed in surprise ; ♦' why,
he's as white as you and I are, every bit as white, Harry."
*' So ho may bo, to look at," answered my cousin; "but
a brown man's a brown man, all the same, however much
white blood lie may have in him ; you can never breed
the nigger out. Confound his impudence, asking you to
dance four times witli him in a single evening ! You,
too, of all girls in the island ! Confound his impudence !
Why, his mother was a slave girl once on Palmettos
estate ! "
" Oh, Harry, you don't mean to say so," I cried, for I
was West Indian enough in my feelings to have a certain
innate horror of coloured blood, and I was really shocked
to think I had been so imprudent as to dance four times
with a brown man.
"Yes, I do mean it, miss," he answered ; " an octaroon
slave girl, and Carvallio's her son by old Jacob Carvalho,
a Jew merchant at the back of the island, who was fool
enough to go and actually marry her. So now you seo
what a pretty mess you've gone and been and made of it.
We shall have it all over Kingston to-morrow, I suppose,
CARVALIIO.
215
that Miss Hazlcden, a Ilazleclen and a Verner, has been
flirting violently with a bit of coloured scum off her own
grandfather's estate at Palmettos. A nice thing for the
family, indeed ! "
" But, Harry," I said, pleading, " he's such a perfect
gentleman in his manners and conversation, so very much
superior to a great many Jamaican young men."
•' Hang it all, miss," said Ilarrj'- — ho used a stronger
expression, for ho was not particular about swearing
before ladies, but I won't transcribe all his oaths — " hang-
it all, that's the way of you girls wlio have been to Eng-
land. If I had fifty daughters I'd never send one of 'em
home, not I. You go over there, and you get enlightened,
as you call it, and you learn a lot of radical fal-lal about
equality and a-man-and-a-brother, and all that humbug ;
and then you come back and despise your own people, who
are gentlemen and the sons of gentlemen for fifty genera-
tions, from the good old slavery days onward. I wish wo
had them here again, I do, and I'd tie up that fellow Car-
valho to a horse-post and flog him with a cow-hide within
an inch of his life."
I was too much accustomed to Harry's manners to make
any protest against this vigorous suggestion of reprisals.
I took his arm quietly. " Let us go back into the ball-
room, Harry," I said as persuasively as I was able, for I
loathed the man in my heart, " and for heaven's sake don't
make a scene about it. If there is anything on earth I
detest, it's scenes."
Next morning I felt rather feverish, and dear fat littlo
Mrs. Venn was quite frightened about me. " If you go
down again to Liguanea with this fever on you, my dear,"
she said, "you'll get yellow Jack as soon as you are home
again. Better write and ask your mamma to let you stop
a fortnight with us here."
I consented, readily enough, for, of course, no girl of
eighteen ever in her heart objects to military society, and
2IG STRANGE STOIilES.
the 99th wcro really very pleasant well-intentioned younpj
Ibllows. But I made up my mind that if I stayed I would
take particular caro to yuo no more of Mr. Carvallio. lie
was very clover, very fascinating, very nice, hut tlien —
ho was a brown man ! Tliat was a bar tiiat no West
Indian }.!;iil could ever be expected to get over.
As ill-luck wonld have it, however — I write as I then
felt — about three days after, Mrs. Venn said to me, '' I'vo
invited Mr. Cameron, one of our siib-lieutonants, to dine
this evening, and I've had to invito his guest, young
Carvallio, as well. By the w'ay, Edie, if I were you, I
Avouldn't talk qnite so ninch as you did the other evening
to Mr. Carvallio. You know, dear, though ho doesn't
look it, he's a broAvn man."
•' I didn't know it," I answered, " till the end of the
evening, and then llariy Verner told mo. I wouldn't
have danced with him more than once if I'd known it."
*' Wonderful how that young fellow has managed to
edge himself into society," said the major, looking np from
his book ; " devilish odd. Son of old Jacob Carvallio :
Jacob left him all his coin, not very much ; picked up his
ABC somewhere or other ; got into Government service ;
asked to Governor's dances ; goes everywhere now. Can't
understand it."
" Well, my dear," says Mrs. Venn, " why do we ask him
ourselves ? "
"Because we can't help it," says the major, testily.
" Cameron goes and picks him uj) ; ought to be in the
Engineers, Cameron; too doocid clever for the line and
for this regiment. Always picks up some astronomer
fellow, or some botanist fellow, or some fellow who under-
stands fortification or something. Competitive examina-
tion's ruin of the service. Get all sorts of people into the
regiment now. Believe Cameron himself lives upon his
pay almost, hanged if I don't."
That evening, Mr. Carvalho came, and I liked him better
m.:
CARVALnO. 217
than ever. ^Ir. Cameron, who was a l)rother botanist
and a nice ingennous young Ilighhinder, nuido liim bring
his portfolio of Jamaica ferns and flowers, the loveliest
things I ever saw — dried specimens and water-colour
.sketches to accompany them of the plants themselves as
they grew naturally, lie told us all about them so
enthusiastically, and of how he used to employ almost all
his holidays in the mountains hunting for specimens.
" I'm afraid the fellows at the office think mo a dreadful
muff for it," ho said, " but I can't help it, it's born in me.
My mother is a descendant of Sir Hans Sloane's, who
lived here for several years — the founder of the British
3Iuseum, you know — and all her family have always had
a taste for bush, as the negroes call it. You knovv, a
good many mulatto people have the blood of able English
families in their veins, and that accounts, I believe, for
their usual high average of general intelligence."
I was surprised to hear him speak so unaffectedly of his
ancestry on the wrong side of the house, for most light
coloured jicoplo studiously avoid any reference to their
.social disabilities. I liked him all the better, however, for
• he perfect frankness with which he said it. If only ho
hadn't been a brown man, now ! But there, you can't get
over those fundamental race prejudices.
Next morning, as the Major and I were out riding, we
•oame again across Mr. Cameron and Mr. Carvalho. Fate
really seemed determined to throw us together. We were
going to the Fern Walk to gather gold and silver ferns,
and Mr. Carvalho was bound in the same direction, to
look for some rare hill-top flowers. At the Walk we dis-
mounted, and, while the two officers went hunting about
among the bush, Mr. Carvalho and I sat for a while upon
Mi big rock in the shade of a mountain palm. The con-
versation happened to come round to somewhat the same
turn as it had taken the last evening.
" Yes," said Mr Carvalho, in answer to a question of
218 STItANGE STOIIIES.
luino, "I do think that muhittos and quadroons arc gener-
ally cleverer than the average run of white people. You
see, mixture of race evidently tends to increase the total
amount of brain power. There are pecsuliar gains of brain
on the one side, and other peculiar gains, however small,
on the other ; and tlie mixture, I fancy, tends to preserve
or increase both. That is why the descendants of Hugue-
nots in England, and the descendants of Italians in France,
show generally such great ability."
" Then you yourself ought to bo an example," I said,
" for your name seems to be Spanish or rortuguese."
" Spanish and Jewish," he answered, laugliing, " though
I didn't niean to give a side-puff to myself. Yes, I am of
very mixed race indeed. On my father's side I am Jewish,
though of course the Jews acknowledge nobody who isn't
a pure-blooded descendant of Abraham in both lines ; and
for that reason I have been brought up a Christian. On
my mother's side I am partly negro, partly English, partly
Haitian French, and, through the Sloanes, partly Dutcli
as well. So you see I am a very fair mixture."
"And that accounts," I said, "for your being so.
clever."
He blushed and bowed a little demure bow, but said
nothing.
It's no use fighting against fate, and during all that
fortnight I did nothing but run up against Mr. Carvalho.
Wherever I went, he was sure to be; wherever I wa»
invited, he was invited to meet me. The fact is, I had
somehow acquired the reputation of being a clever girl,
and, as Mr. Cameron was by common consent the clever
man of his regiment, it was considered proper that ho
(and by inference his guest) should be always asked to
entertain me. The more I saw of Mr. Carvalho the better
I liked him. He was so clever, and yet so simple and
unassuming, that one couldn't help admiring and sympa-
thizing with him. Indeed, if he hadn't been a brown
CATtVALIIO. 219
man, 1 almost think I should have fallen in lovo witli him
outright.
At tho end of a fortnight I wont back to Palniottos.
A few (lays after, who should come to call hut old General
Farquhar, and with him, of all men in tho world, Mr. Car-
vallio I Mamma was furious. She managed to bo frigidly-
polite as long as they stopi)ed, but when they were gono
slie went off at once into one of her worst nervous crisise.s
(that's not tho regular plural, I'm sure, but no matter).
" I knoAv his mother when she was a slave of your grand-
fjither's," sho said ; " an upstanding proud octaroon girl,
who thought herself too good for her place because sho
was nearly a white woman. She left tho estate imme-
diately after that horrid emancipation, to keep a school of
brown girls in Kingston. And then sho had the insolence
to go and get actually married at church to old Jacob
Carvalho! Just like those brown people. Their grand-
mothers never married." For poor mamma always made it
a subject of reproach against tho respectable coloured folk
that they tried to live more decently and properly than
their ancestors used to do in slavery times.
Mr. Carvalho never came to Palmettos again, but when-
ever I went to Kingston to dances I met him, and in spito
of mamma I talked to him too. Ono day I went over to
a ball at Government House, and there I saw both hin\
and Harry Verner. For the first time in my life I had
two proposals made me, and on the same night. Harry
Vomer's came first.
" Edie," he said to me, between the dances, as we were
strolling out in the gardens, West Indian fashion, " I
often think Agualta is rather lonely. It wants a lady to
look after the house, while I'm down looking after the
cane pieces. We made the best return in sugar of any
estate on the island, last year, you know ; but a man can't
subsist entirely on sugar. He wants sympathy and
intellectual companionship." (This was quite an efibrt
220 STJiAXGE STOlilJJJ.
for Ilany.) "Now, I've not Loon in a hnriy to get
married. I've waited till I could find some one whom I
could thoroughly respect and admire as well a.s love.
I've looked at all the girls in Jamaica, before making
my choice, and I've determined not to be guided by
monetary considerations or any otlior considerations
except those of the affections and of real undorlyino-
goodness and intellect. I feel that you are the one girl
1 have met who is far and away ni}' superior in evoiythiuo-
worth living for, Edie ; and I'm going to ask you whether
you will make me proud and happy for ever by becomiu*'-
the mistress of Agualta."
I felt that Harry was really conceding so very much to
me, and honouring me so greatly by offering me a life
partnership in that flourishing sugar-estate, that it really
Avent to my heart to have to refuse him. But I told him
plainly I could not marry him because i did not love him.
Harry seemed quite surprised at my refusal, but answered
politely that perhaps I might learn to love him hereafter,
that ho would not be so foolish as to press me further now,
and that he would do his best to deserve my love in future.
And v*^ith that little speech he led me back to the ball-
room, and handed me over to my next partner.
Later on in the evening, Mr. Carvalho too, with an
earnest look in his handsome dark eyes, asked leave to take
me for a few turns in the garden. We sat down on a
bench under the great mango tree, and he began to talk
to me in a graver fashion than usual.
" Your mother was annoyed, I fear. Miss Hazleden," he
said, " that I should call at Palmettos."
" To tell you the truth," I answered, " I think she was."
" I was afraid she would be — I knew she would be, in
fact ; and for that very reason I hesitated to do it, as I
hesitated to dance with you the first time I met you, as
soon as I knew who you really were. But I felt I ought
to face it out. You know by this time, no doubt, Miss
CAIIVALIIO. 221
Ha/lcdcn, tli<at my iiiotlior was oiico a slavo on your
grfiiull'.iilicr's ostato. Xoav, it is a theory of mine — a
little (juixotic, perliaps, but still a theory of mine — tliat
the guilt and the nhamo of slavery lay with the slave-
owners (ft)rgive mo if I mnst needs speak against yonr
own class), and not with the slaves or their descendants.
Wo havo nothing on oarth to bo ashamed of. Thinking
thns, I felt it incnmbont npon mo to call at Palmettos,
partly in defence of my general principles, and partly also
becanso 1 wished to sec whether yon shared yonr mother's
ideas on that subject."
'' You wero quite right in what you did, Mr. Carvalho,"
I answered ; " and I respect you for the boldness with
which yon cling to what you think yonr duty."
" Thank you, Miss Ilazleden," he answered, "you aro
very kind. Now, I wish to speak to you about another
and more serious (piestion. Forgive my talking about
myself for a moment ; I feel sure you havo kindly inter-
ested yourself in me a little. I too am proud of my birth,
in my way, for I am the son of an honest able man and of
a tender true woman. 1 come on one side from the oldest
and greatest among civilized races, the Jews ; and on
the other side from many energetic English, French, and
Dutch families \vhoso blood I am vain enough to prize as
a precious inheritance even though it came to uio through
the veins of an octaroon girl. I have lately arrived at the
conclusion that it is not well for mo to remain in Jamaica.
I cannot bear to live in a society which will not receive
my dear mother on the same terms as it receives me, and
will not receive either of us on the same terms as it
receives other peo})le. We aro not rich, but wo aro well
enough oif to go to live in England; and to England 1
mean soon to go."
" I am glad and sorry to hear it," I said. " Glad,
because I am sure it is the best thing for your own happi-
ness, and the best opening for your great talents ; sorry,
222 STJUNGE STOIUi:^.
because tlicro arc not many people in Jamaica avIioso
society I shall miiss so mucli."
*' What you tsay enct)uragGs mo to venture a little
further. When I get to Eiighind, I intend to go to
Cambridge, and take a degree tlierc, so as to put myself
on an equality with other educated people. Now, Miss
Ilazleden, I am going to ask you something which is so
great a thing to ask that it makes my lieart tremble to
ask it. I know no man on earth, least of all myself, dare
think liimsolf fit for you, or dare plead liis own cause
before you without feeling his own unworthiness and
pettiness of soul beside you. Yet just because I know
how infinitely better and nobler and higher you are tlian
I am, 1 cannot resist trying, just once, whether I may not
hope that perhaps you will consider my appeal, and count
my earnestness to me for righteousness. I have watched you
and listened to you and admired you till in spite of myself
I have not been able to refrain from loving you. T know
it is madness ; I know it is yearning after the unattain-
able ; but I cannot help it. Oh, don't answer me too
soon and crush me, but consider whether perhaps in the
future you might not somehow at some time think it
possible."
He leaned forward towards me in a supplicating atti-
tude. At that moment I loved him witli all the force
of my nature. Yet I dared not say so. The spectre of
the race-j)rejudico rose instinctively like a dividing wall
between my heart and my lips. " Mr. Carvalho," I
said, " take mo back to my seat. You inust not talk so,
please."
" One minute, Miss Hazledcn," he went on joassionately ;
" one minnte, and then I will be silent for ever. Remember,
wo might live in England, far away from all these un-
meaning barriers. I do not ask you to take me now, and
as I am ; I will do all I can to make myself more worthy
of you. Only let me hope ; don't answer me no without
CAliVALIIO. 223
corihideriii^ it. I know liow littlo I doscrvc sncli liappi-
ness; but if you will take mo, I will live all my lifo lor
no other purpose than to make you seo that I am striving
to show myself grateful for your love. Oh, 3Iiss Ila/.leileu,
do listen to mo."
I felt that in another moment I should yield; T could
liavc seized his outstretched hands then, and t(dd him that
I loved him, hut I dared not. '• jMr. Carvalho," I said,
"let us go hack now. I will write to you to-morrow." lie
gave mo his arm with a deep breath, and we went back
slowly to the music.
" Edith," said my mother sharply, when I got liome
that night, " Harry has been here, and 1 know two things.
]Io has proposed to you and you have refused him, I'm
certain of that ; and the other thing is, that young
Carvalho has been insolent enough to make you an offer."
1 said nothing.
*' What did you answer him ? "
" That I would reply by letter."
" Sit down, then, and write as I tell you."
I sat down mechanically. Mamma l)egan dictating. I
cried as I wrote, but I wrote it. I know now how very
shameful and wrong it was of me ; but I was only eighteen,
and I was accustomed to do as mamma told mo in every-
thing. She had a terrible will, you know, and a terrible
temper.
" ' Dear Mr. Carvalho ' (you'd better begin so, or he'll
know I dictated it), — ' I was too much surprised at your
strange conduct last night to give you an answer inmiedi-
ately. On thinking it over, I can only say I am astonished
you should have supposed such a thing as you suggested
lay within the bounds of possibility. In future, it will bo
well that we should avoid one another. Our spheres aro
different. Pray do not repeat your mistake of last even-
ing. — Yours truly, E. Ilazledcu.' Have you put all that
down ? "
5^24 STIUKGE STOlllES.
"Mamma," I cried, " it is abominable. It isn't true.
I can't sign it,"
" Sign it," said my niotlior, briefly.
I took the pen and did so. " You will break my heart,
mamma," I said. "You will break my heart and kill
me."
" It shall go first thing to-morrow," said my motlicr,
taking no notice of my worels. " And now, Edith, you
shall marry Harry Vomer."
II.
Seven years are a large slice out of one's life, and the
seven years spent in fighting poor dear mamma over that
fixed project were not happy ones. But on that point
nothing on earth would bend me. I would not marry Harry
Verner. At last, after poor mamma's sudden death, I
thought it best to sell the remnant of the estate for what
it would fetch, and go back to England. I was twenty-
five then, and had slowly learnt to have a will of my own
meanwhile. But during all that time I hardly ever heard
again of Ernest Carvalho. Onco or twice, indeed, I was
told he had taken a distinguished place at Cambridge, and
had gone to the bar in the Temple ; but that was all.
A month or two after my return to London my aunt
Emily (who m^is not one of the West Indian side of the
house) managed to get me an invitation to Mrs. Bouverio
Barton's. Of course you know ]\[rs. Bouverie Barton, the
famous novelist, whoso books everybody talks about.
Well, Mrs. Barton lives in Eaton Place, and gives charming
Thursday evening receptions, which are the recognized
rendezvous of all literary and artistic London. If there is a
celebrity in town., from Paris or Vienna, Timbuctoo or the
CARVALIIO. 225
South Sea Islands, you arc snrc to meet him in the little
back drawing-room at Eaton riaco. The music there is
always of the best, and the conversation of the cleverest.
But what pleased me most on that occasion was the fact
that Mr. Gerard Llewellyn, the author of that singular
book "Peter Martindale," was to be the lionof the party on
this particular Thursday. I had just been reading " Peter
Martindale" — who had not, that season? for it was the rago
of the daj' — and I had never read any novel before whicli
so impressed rac by its weird power, its philosophical
insight, and its transparent depth of moral earnestness.
So I was naturally very much pleased at the prospect of
seeing and meeting so famous a man as Mr. Gerard
Llewellyn.
AVhon we entered IMrs. P)Ouverio Barton's handsome
rooms, wo saw a great crowd of people whom even the
most unobservant stranger would instantly have recog-
nized as out of the common run. There was the hostess
herself, with her kindly smilo and her friendly good-
humoured manner, hardly, if at all, concealing the pro-
found intellectual strength that lay latent in her calm
grey eyes. There were artistic artists and rugged artists ;
satirical novelists and gay novelists ; heavy professors
and deep professors — evcrj' possible representative of
" literature, science, and art." At first, I was put off with
introductions to young poetasters, and gentlemen with an
interest in cuneiform inscriptions; but I had quite made
up my mind to get a talk with Mr. Gerard IJewellyn ;
and to ]Mr. Gerard Llewellyn our hostess at last promised
to introduce me. She crossed +he room in search of liin\
near the big fireplace.
A tall, handsome young man, with long moustache and
beard, and piercing black eyes, stood somewhat listlessly
leaning against the mantelshelf, and talking with an even,
brilliant flow to a short, stout, Indian-looking gentleman
at his side. I knew in a moment that the short stout
22o STRANGE STORIES.
gentleman must be Mr. Llewellyn, for in the tall young
man, in Kpitc of seven years and the long moustaches, I
lecognized at once Ernest Carvalho.
But to my surprise Mrs. Bouverie Barton brought the
tall young man, and not his neighbour, across the room
with her. She must have made a mistake, I thought.
" Mr. Carvalho," she said, " I want you to come and be
introduced to the lady on the ottoman. ]\Iiss Hazleden,
Mr. Carvalho ! "
" I have met Mr. Carvalho long ago in Jamaica," I said
warmly, " but I am very glad indeed to meet him here
again. However, I hardly expected to see him hero this
evening."
" Indeed," said Mrs. Barton, witli some surprise in her
tone; "I thought you asked to be introduced to the
author of " Peter Martindale. ' "
"So I did," I answered; "but I understood his name
was Llewellyn."
" Oh ! " said Ernest Carvalho, quickly, " that is only
my nom de illume. But the authorship is an open secret
now, and I suppose Mrs. Barton thought you knew it."
" It is a happy chance, at any rate, Mr. Carvalho," I
said, " which has thrown us two again together."
He bowed gravely and with dignity. " You are very
kind to say so," he said. " It is always a pleasure to meet
old acquaintances from Jamaica."
My heart beat violently. There was a studied coldness
in his tone, I thought, and no wonder ; but if I had been
in love with Ernest Carvalho before, I felt a thousand
more times in love with him now as ho stood there in his
evening dress, a perfect English gentleman. Ho looked
so kinglike with his handsome, slightly Jewisb features,
bis piercing black eyes, his long moustaches, and his
beautiful delicate thin-lipped mouth. There was such an
air of power in his forehead, such a speaking evidence of
high culture iu his general expression. And then, he had
CAJtVALlIO. 227
written "Peter Martinilalo ! " Why, who else could possibly
have written it ? I wondered at my own stupidity in not
having guessed the authorship at once. But, most terrible
of all, I had probably lost his love for ever. I might
once have called Ernest Carvalho my husband, and I had
utterly alienated him by a single culpable act of foolish
weakness.
" You are living in London, now ? " I asked.
" Yes," ho answered, " we have a little home of our own
in Kensington. I am working on tlie stafi' of the Mornhig
Detonator.''^
" Mrs. Carvalho is hero this evening," said Mrs.
Boaverie Barton. " Do you know her? I suppose you
do, of course."
Mrs. Carvallio ! As I heard the name, 1 was conscious
of a deep but rapid thud, thud, thud in my car, and after
a moment it struck me that tlio thud came from the ([uick
beating of my own heart. Then Ernest Carvalho was
married !
" No," ho said in repl3% seeing that I did not answer
immediately. "Miss llazleden has never met her, I
believe ; but I shall be happy to introduce her ; " and ho
turned to a sofa where two or three ladies were chatting
together, a little in the corner.
A very queenly old lady, with snow-white hair, pret-
tily cuvered in part by a dainty and becoming lace cap,
held out her small white hand to mo Avith a gracious
smile. " My mother," Ernest Carvalho said quietly ; and
I took the proffered hand with a warmth that must have
really surprised the slave-born octaroon. The one thought
that was uppermost in my mind was just this, tliat after
all Ernest Carvalho was not married. Once more I heard
the thud in my ear, and nothing else.
As soon as I could notice anybody or anything except
myself, I began to observe that Mrs. Carvalho was very
handsome. ISho was rather dark, to be sure, but less so
228 STRANCIE ST01iIi:S.
than many Spanish or Italian ladies I had seen; and her
look and manner were those oF a Louis Quinzo marquise,
with a distinct reminiscenco of the stately ohl Haitian
French politeness. She could never have had any educa-
tion except what she had picked up for herself; but no
one would suspect the deficiency now, for she was as
ch;vor as all half-castes, and had made the best of her
advantages meanwliilc, such as they wore. When she
talked about the literary London in wdiich her son lived
and moved, I felt like the colonial-bred ignoramus I really
was ; and when she t(dd me they had just been to visit
Mr. Fradelli's now picture at the studio, I was positively
too ashamed to let hor see that I had never in my life
heard of that famous painter before. To think that that
queenly old lady was still a slave girl at Palmettos when
my poor dear mother was a little child ! And to think,
too, that my own family would have kept her a slave all
hor life long, if only they had had the power ! I remem-
bered at once with a blush what Ernest Carvalho had
^said to me the last time 1 saw him, about the pec^ple with
whom the guilt and sliame of slavoiy really rested.
I sat, half in a maze, talking v ith Mrs. Carvalho all
the rest of that evening. Ernest lingered near for a
while, as if to see what impression his mother produced
npon mo, but soon went off, proudly I thought, to another
part of the room, where ho got into conversation Avith the
< rerman gentleman who Avoro the big blue wire-guarded
spectacles. Yet I fancied he kept looking half anxiously
in our direction throughout the evening, and I was sure
I saAv him catch his mother's eye furtively now and again.
As for ]\Irs. Carvalho, she made a conquest of me at once,
and she was evidently well pleased with her conquest.
When I rose to leave, she took both my hands in hers,
and said to me "vvarmly, " Miss Ila/leden, we shall be so
pleased to see yon whenever you liko to come, at Merton
Gardens." Had Ernest ever told her of his proposal?
I wondered.
CARVALUO. 229
Mrs. Bouverie Bar ton was very kind to me. She kept
on askino; me to her Tlmrsdav cvenin<:;s, and there time
after time T mot Ernest Carvalho. At first, he seldom
Kpoke to me mnch, but fit last, partly because I always
talked so much to his mother perhaps, he began to tluiAv
ii little, and often came up to mo in quite a friendly
way. " We have left Jamaica and all that behind, IMiss
Ilazledcn," ho said once, " and here in free England wo
may at least be friends." Oh, how I longed to explain
the whole truth to him, and how impossible an ex-
planation was. Besides, he had seen so many other girls
.since, and very likely his boyish fancy for me had long
{since passed away altogether. You can't cfjiint much on
the love-making of eighteen and twenty.
Mrs. (Airvalho asked mo often to their pretty little
house in Merton Gardens, and I went ; but still Ernest
never in any way alluded to what had passed. Months
went b}^ and I began to feel that I must crush tliat littlo
■dream entirely out of my heart — if I could. One after-
noon I went in to Mrs. Carvalho's for a cup of five-o'clock
tea, and had an uninterrupted h'te-li-U'te with her for
half an hour. Wo had been exchanging small confidences
with one another for a while, and after a pause the old
lady laid her gentle hand upon my head and stroked back
my hair in such a motherly fashion. " My dear child,''
she said, half-sighing, " I do wish my Ernest would only
take a fancy to a sweet yimng girl like you."
" Mr. Carvalho does not seem quite a marrying man,"
I answered, forcing a laugh ; " I notice he seldom talks
to ladies, but always to men, and those of the solemuest."
" Ah, my dear, he has had a great disappointment,
a terrible disappointment said the mother, unburdening
herself. " I can ttll you all about it, for you are a
Jamaican born, and though you are one of the 'proud
Palmettos ' people you are not full of prejudices like
the rest of them, and so you will understand it. Before
230 STHASGi: STOUIES.
wo left Jamaica ho was in lovo with a yomig hidy there ;
ho never told mo her name, and that is tho one secret
Jio has ever kept from me. Well, ho talked to her
often, and ho thouf^ht she was above tho wiclced pre-
judices of race and colour ; sho seemed to encourage
him and to ho fond of his society. At last he proposed
to her. Then sho wrote him a cruel, cruel lettoi-, a letter
that he never showed me, but ho told me what was in
it; and it drove him away from tho island immediately.
It was a letter full of wicked reproaches about our
octaroon blood, and it broke his heart with the shock of
its heartlessness. llo has never cared for any woman
since."
" Then docs ho love her still ? " I asked, breathless.
" How can he ? No ! but he says he loves the memory
of Avhat he once thought her. He has seen her since,
somewhere in London, and spoken to her; but he can
never love her again. Yet, do you know, I fuel sure he
cannot help loving her in spite of himself; and he often
goes out at night, I am sure, to watch her door, to sec
her come in and out, for the sake of tho love he once bore
her. My Ernest is not the sort of man who can love
twice in a lifetime."
" Perhaps," I said, colouring, " if he were to ask her
again she might accept him. Things are so difiereut here
in England, and he is a famous man now."
Mrs. Carvalho shook her head slowly. " Oh no ! " sho
answered; "he would never importune or trouble her.
Though she has rejected him, he is too loyal to the love
he once bore her, too careful of wounding her feelings
or even her very prejudices, ever to obtrude his love
again upon her notice. If she cannot love him of herself
and for himself, spontaneously, he would not weary her
out with oft asking. He will never marry now ; of that
I am certain."
My eyes filled with tears. As they did so, I tried
CAltVALIIO. 231
to brush thciu away unseen Vieliind my fan, Lut Mrs.
Carvalho caught my glancu, and looked sharply thnnigh
me with a sudden gleam of discovery. " Why," she said,
very slowly and distinctly, with a pause and a stre.^s
upon each word, " I believe it must have been you
yourself, Miss Ilazleden." And as she spuko she held
her open hand, palm outward, stretched against mo witli
a gesture of horror, as one might shrink in alarm froin
a coiled rattlesnake.
" Dear IMrs. Carvalho," I cried, clasping my hands
before her, " do hear me, I entreat you ; do let me explain
to you how it all happened."
" There is no explanation possible," she answered
sternly. " Go. You have wrecked a life that miglit
otherwise have been happy and famtjus, and then you
come to a mother with an explanation ! "
" That letter was not mine," I said boldly ; for I saw
that to put the truth shortly in that truest and briefest
form was the only way of getting her to listen to nie>
now.
She sank back in a chair and folded her hands faintly
one above the otlicr. " Tell mo it all," she said in a weak
voice. " I will hear vou."
80 I told her all. I did not try to extenuate my own
weakness in writing from my mother's dictation ; but
I let her sec what I had suffered then and what I had
suffered since. When I had finished, she drew me
towards her gently, and printed one kiss upon my
forehead. "It is hard to forget," she said softly, '" but
you were very young and helpless, and your nujther was
a terrible woman. Tlie iron has entered into your own
Boul too. Go homo, dear, and I will see about this
matter."
We fell upon one another's necks, the Palmettos slave-
girl and I, and cried together glad tears for ten minutes.
Then I wiped my red eyes dry, covered them with a
232 STRANGE STORIES.
double fold of my A'cil, and ran homo hurriedly in the
dusk to auntie's. It was wuch a terrible relief to have
got it all over.
That evening, about eleven o'clock, auntie had gone
to bed, and I was sitting up by myself, musing late over
the red cinders in the little back drawing-room grate.
i felt as though I couldn't sleep, and so I was waiting
up till T got sleepy. Suddenly there came a loud knock
und a ring at the l)ell, after which Amelia ran in to say
that a gentleman wanted to see me in the dining-room
on urgent business, and would I please come down to
speak with him immediately. I knew at onco it was
Ernest.
The moment I entered the room, he never said a w^ord,
but he took my two hands eagerly in his, and then ho
kissed mo fervently on the lips half a dozen times over.
" And now, Edith," he said, " we need say no more about
the past, for my mother has explained it all to me ; wo
will only think about the future."
I have no distinct recollection what o'clock it was
before Ernest left that evening ; but I know auntie sent
down word twice to say it was high time I went to bed,
and poor Amelia looked awfully tired and very sleepy.
However, it was settled then and there that Ernest and
I should be married early in October.
A few days later, after the engagement had been
announced to all our friends, dear Mrs. Bouverie Barton
paid me a congratulatory call. ''You are a very lucky
girl, my dear," she said to me kindly. " We are half
envious of you ; I wish we could find another such
husband as Mr. Carvalho for my Christina. But you
liave carried off the prize of the season, and you are well
worthy of him. It is a very great honour for any girl
to win and deserve the love of such a man as Ernest
Carvalho."
Will you believe it, so strangely do one's first impres-
CAItVALlIO. 2:^3
sions and early ideas about people cling to one, that
though I hud often felt heforo how completely the tahles
had been turned since wo two canio to Knglaiid, it had
not struck mo till that moment that in the eyes of the
world at large it was Ernest who was doing an lionour
to me and not I who was doing an honour to Ernest.
I felt ashamed to think that Mrs. Bouverio Barton should
see instinctively the true state of the ease, while I, wlu>
loved and admired him so greatly, should have let tho
tdiadow of that old prejudice stand even now between
mo and tho lover I was so ]>n)ud to own. But when
I took dear old Mrs. Carvalho's hand in mine the day
of our wedding, and kissed her, and called her mother for
tho first time, I felt that I had left the guilt and shame
of slavery for ever behind me, and that I should strive
ever after to live worthily of Ernest Carvalho's love.
:
PAUSODYNE:
A GREAT CHEMICAL DISCOVERY.
"Walking along the Strand one evening last year towards
Pall Mall, I was accosted near Charing Cross Station by a
Btrange-looking, middle-aged man in a poor suit of clothes,
who surprised and startled mo by asking if I could tell
him from what inn the coach usually started for York.
" Dear me ! " I said, a little puzzled. " I didn't know
there was a coach to York. Indeed, I'm almost certain
there isn't one."
The man looked puzzled and surprised in turn. *' No
coach to York ? " he muttered to himself, half inarticu-
lately. " No coach to York ? How things have changed I
I wonder whether nobody ever goes to York nowadays ! "
"Pardon me," I said, anxious to discover what could be
his meaning ; " many people go to York every day, but of
course they go by rail."
" Ah, yes," ho answered softly, " I see. Yes, of course,
they go by rail. They go by rail, no doubt. IIow very
stupid of me !" And he turned on his heel as if to get
away from me as quickly as possible.
I can't exactly say why, but I felt instinctively that
this curious stranger was trying to conceal from mo his
jgnoranco of what a railway really was. I was quita
certain from the way in which he spoke that he had not
PAUSODYNE. 233
tho sliglitcst conception Avliat I meant, Jintl that lio was
doing his best to hide his confusion by pretending to
understand nic. Hero was indeed a strange mystery. In
tho latter end of tliis nincteentli century, iu tho metropolis
of industrial ihigland, within a stone's-throw of Charing
Cross terminus, I had met an adult Englishman who
apparently did not know of tho existence of railways.
My curiosity was too niucli pi(iued to let tho matter rest
there. I must find out what lie meant by it. I walked
after him hastily, as ho tried to disappear among tho
crowd, and laid my hand upon his shoulder, to his evident
chagrin.
" Excuse mo," I said, drawing him aside down tho
corner of Craven Street ; " you did not understand what 1
meant when I said jieoplo went to York by rail ? "
He looked in my face steadily, and then, instead of
replying to my remark, ho said slowly, " Your name is
►Spottiswood, I believe?"
Again I gave a start of surprise. " It is," I answered ;
*' but I never remember to have seen you before."
" No," ho replied dreamily ; " no, we have never met
till now, no doubt ; but I know your father, I'm sure ; or
perhaps it may have been your grandfather."
" Not my grandfather, certainly," said I, " for he waa
killed at Waterloo."
" At Waterloo! Indeed ! How long since, pray ? "
I could not refrain lr<jm laughing outright. " Why, of
course," I answered, "in 1815. There has been nothing
particular to kill off any large number of Englishmen at
Waterloo since the year of tho battle, I suppose."
" True," he muttered, " quito true ; so I should havo
fancied." But I saw again from tho cloud of doubt and
bewilderment which camo over his intelligent face that
the name of Waterloo conveyed no idea whatsoever to hia
mind.
Never in my life had I felt so utterly confused and
'2W STliANGE STORIES.
astonislied. In sitito of his poor dress, I could easily see
from the clear-cut faco and tlio refined accent of my
stvango ac(iuaintanco that ho was an educated gentloniaii
— a man accustomed to mix in cultivated Kocicty. Yet ho
clearly knew nothing whatsoever ahout railways, and was
ignorant of the most salient facts in English history. Had
I suddenly como across somo Caspar Ilauscr, immured
for years in a private prison, and just let loose upon the
world by his gaolers ? or was my mysterious stranger ono
of the Seven Sleepers of Ephcsus, turned out unexpectedly
in modern costume on the streets of London? 1 don't sup-
pose there exists on earth a man more utterly free than I
am from any tinge of superstition, any lingering touch of a
love for the miraculous ; but I confess for a moment I felt
half inclined to suppose that the man before mo must have
drunk the elixir of life, or must have dropped suddenly
upon earth from some distant planet.
The impulse to fathom this mystery was irresistible. I
drew my arm through his. "If you knew my father,"
J said, " you will not object to como into my chambers
and take a glass of Avine with me."
" Thank you," ho answered half suspiciously ; " thank
you very much. I think you look liko a man who can be
trusted, and I will go with you."
AVe walked along the Embankment to Adelphi Terrace,
where I took him up to my rooms, and seated him in my
easy-chair near the window. As he sat down, one of the
trains on the Metropolitan lino whirred past the Terrace,
snorting steam and whistling shrilly, after the fashion of
Metropolitan engines generally. My mysterious stranger
jumped back in alarm, and seemed to be afraid of some
immediate catastrophe. There was absolutely no possi-
bility of doubting it. The man had obviously never seen
a locomotive before.
" Evidently," I said, " you do not know London. I
suppose you are a colonist from some remote district, per-
PAUSODYNE. 2?,T
Imps an Austral lati from tlio interior somowhcro, just
landed at tho Tower ? "
"No, not an Austrian" — I notoil his mi sapprohonsion
— " but a LondontT Ix^rn and Lred."
" How is it, thou, that you seem never to have seen an
engine heforo? "
"Can I trust you?" ho asked in a pitconsly plaintive,
half-terrified tone. " If I tell you all about it, will you at
least not aid in porseoutiiig and imprisoning mo?"
I was touched by his evident grief and terror. " No,"
I answered, " you may trust mo im])licitly. I feel sure
there is something in your history which entitles yon to
sympatliy and protection."
" Well," ho replied, grasping my hand warmly, " I will
tell you all my story ; but you must bo prepared for some-
thinj]!: almost too startling to be crcdilde."
" My name is Jonathan Spottiswood," ho began calmly.
Again I experienced a marvellous start: Jonathan
Spottiswood was the name of my great-grcat-unclo, whose
unaccountable disappearance from London just a century
since had involved our family in so much protracted liti-
gation as to tho succession to his property. In fact, it
was Jonathan Spottiswood's money which at that moment
formed tho bulk of my littlo fortune. But 1 would not
interrupt him, so great was my anxiety to hear tho story
of his life.
" I was born in London," he went on, " in IToO. If yon
can hear me say that and yet believe that possildy I am
not a madman, I will tell you the rest of my tale ; if not,
I shall go at once and for ever."
" I suspend judgment for the present," I answered.
"What you say is extraordinary^ hut not more extraordi-
nary perha2:)s than tho clear anachronism of your ignoi'anco
about locomotives in tho midst of the jn-escnt eenmry."
" So be it, then. Well, I will tell you the facts briefly
in as few words as I can. I was always much given to
233 SriiANGE STORIES.
experimental philosophy, and I spent most of my time in
the little laboratory which I had built for myself behind
my father's honso in the Strand. I had a small inde-
pendent fortune of my own, left mo by an uncle who had
made successful ventures in the China trade; and as I
was indisposed to fullow my father's profession of solicitor,
I gave myself up almost cntirel}' to the pursuit of natural
philosophy, following the researches of the great Mr-
Cavendish, our chief English thinker in this kind, as well
as of Monsieur Lavoisier, the ingenious French chemist,
and of my friend Dr. Priestley, the Birmingham philo-
sopher, Avliose new theory of phlogiston I have been much
concerned to consider and to promulgate. But the especial
subject to which I devoted myself was the elucidation of
the nature of fixed air. I do not know how far you your-
self may happen, to have heard respecting these late
discoveries in chemical science, but I dare venture to say
that you are at least acquainted with the nature of the
body to which I refer."
"Perfectly," I answered with a smile, "though your
terminology is now a little out of date. Fixed air was, I
believe, the old-fashioned name for carbonic acid gas."
" Ah," he cried vehemently, "that accursed word again !
Carbonic acid has undone me, clearly. Yes, if you will
have it so, that seems to be what they call it in this ex-
traordinary century ; but fixed air was the name wu used
to give it in our time, and fixed air is what I must call it,
of course, in telling you my story. Well, I was deejily
interested in this curious question, and also in some of the
results which I obtained from worlcing with fixed air in
combination Avith a substance I had i)roduced from the
essential oil of a weed known to us in England as lady's
mantle, but which the learned Mr. Carl Linmeus describes
in his sj'^stem as Alchemilla vuhjaris. From that weed 1
obtained an oil which I combined with a certain decoction
of fixed air inta a remarkable compound ; and to this
rAUSODYNE. 239
compound, from its singular properties, I proposed to give
the name of Pausodyno. For some j-ears I -was almost
wholly engaged in investigating the conduct of this re-
markable agent; and lest I should weary you by entering
into too much detail, I may as well say at onco that it
possessed the singular power of entirely suspending ani-
mation in men or animals for several hours together. It
is a highly volatile oil, like ammonia in smell, but much
thicker in gravity ; and when held to the nose of an
animal, it causes immediate stoppage of the heart's action^
making the body seem quite dead for long periods at a
time. But the moment a mixture of the pausodyne with
oil of vitriol and gum resin is prescntod to the nostrils,
the animal instantaneously revives exactly as before,
showing no evil cffecls whatsoever from its temporary
simulation of death. To the reviving mixture I have
given the appropriate name of Anegciric.
''Of course you will instantly sec the valuable medical
applications which may bo made of such an agent. I
used it at first for experimenting upon the amputation of
limbs and other surgical opt-rations. It succeeded ad-
mirably. I found that a dog under the influence of pau-
sodyno suffered his leg, which had been broken in a street
accident, to be set and spliced without the slightest
symptom of feeling or discomfort. A cat, shot with a
pistol by a cruel boy, had the bullet extracted without
moving a muscle. My assistant, having allowed his little
finger to mortify from neglect of a burn, permitted me to
try the effect of my discovery upon himself ; and I re-
moved the injured joints while he remained in a state of
complete insensibility, so that ho could hardly boliovo
afterwards in the actual truth of their removal. I felt
certain that I had invented a mtdical process of the very
highest and greatest utility.
" All this took place in or before the year 1781. How
long ago that may be according to your modern reckoning
240 STRANGE STORIES.
I cannot say ; but to mo it seems hardly moro tlian a few
months since. Perhaps you would not mind telling mo
the date of the current year. I have never been able to
ascertain it."
" Tliis is 1881," I said, growing every moment more
interested in his talc.
" Thank you. I gathered that we must now be some-
where near the close of the nineteenth century, though 1
could not learn the exact date with certainty. Well, T
should tell you, my dear sir, that I had contracted an
engagement about the year 1779 with a young lady of
most remarkable beauty and attractive mental gifts, a
Miss Amelia Spragg, daughter of tlie well-known General
Sir Thomas Spragg, with whoso achievements you are
doubtless familiar. Pardon me, my friend of another ago,
pardon me, I beg of you, if I cannot allude to this subject
without emotion after a lapse of time which to you doubt-
less seems like a century, but is to me a matter of some
few months only at the utmost. I feel towards lier as
towards one whom 1 have but recently lost, though I now
find that she has been dead for more than eighty years."
As he spoke, the tears came into his eyes profusely ; and
I could see that under the external calmness and quaint-
iiess of his eighteenth century language and demeanour
his whole nature was profoundly stirred at the thought of
his lost love.
"Look hero," ho continued, taking from his breast a
large, old-fashioned gold locket containing a miniature ;
" that is her portrait, by Mr. Walker, and a very truthful
likeness indeed. They left me that when they took away
my clothes at tho Asylum, for I would not consent to part
with it, and the physician in attendance observed that to
deprive me of it might only increase tho frequency and
violence of my paroxysms. For I will not conceal from
you tho fact that I have just escaped from a pauper lunatic
establishment."
PAUSODYXE. 241
I took the miniature whicli lie handed nie, and looked
at it closely. It was the piclnro of a young and beautiful
girl, with the features and costume of a Sir Joshua. I
recognized tlie face at once as that of a lady whose por-
trait by Gainsborough hangs on the walls of my uncle's
dining-room at "VVhittingham Abbey. It was strange
indeed to hear a living man speak of himself as the former
lover of this, to me, historic personage.
" Sir Thomas, however," he went on, " was much op-
posed to our union, on the ground of some real or fancied
social disparity in our positions; but I at last obtained
his conditional consent, if only I could succeed in obtaining
the Fellowship of tho Eoyal Society, which might, ho
thought, be accepted as a passport into that fashionable
circle of which ho was a member. Spurred on by this
ambition, and by the encouragennent of my Amelia, I
worked day and night at tho perfectioning of my great
discovery, which I was assured would bring not only
honour and dignity to myself, but also tho alleviation and
assuagement of pain to countless thousands of my fellow-
creatures. I concealed the nature of my experiments,
however, lest any rival investigator should enter tho field
with me prematurely, and share the credit to which I
alone was really entitled. For some months I was suc-
cessful in my efforts at concealment ; but in March of this
year — I mistake; of the year 17S1, I should say — an un-
fortunate circumstance cused me to take special and
exceptional precautions against intrusion.
" I was then conducting my experiments upon living
animals, and especially upon tho extirpation of certain
painful internal diseases to which they are subject. J
had a number of suffering cats in my laboratory, which I
had treated with pausodyne, and stretched out on boards
for tho purpose of removing the tumours with which they
were afflicted. I had no doubt that in this manner, while
directly benefiting the animal creation, I should indirectly
11
212 STItANGE STORIES.
obtain tho necessary skill to operate successfully upon
human beings in similar circumstances. Already I had
completely cured several cats without any pain whatso-
ever, and I was anxious to proceed to the human subject.
Walking one morning in tlio Strand, I found a beggar
woman outside a gin-shop, quite drunk, with a small, ill-
clad child by her side, sulibring tho most excruciating
torments from a perfectly remediable cause. I induced tho
mother to accompany mo to my laboratory, and there I
treated the poor little creature with pausodyne, and began
to operate upon her with perfect confidenco of success.
*' Unhappily, my laboratory had excited the suspicion
of many ill-disposed persons among tho low mob of tho
neighbourhood. It was Avhispered abroad that I was
what they called a viviscctionist ; and those people, who
Avould willingly have attended a bull-baiting or a prize
fight, found themselves of a sudden wondrous humane
when scientific procedure was under consideration. Be-
sides, I had made myself unpopular by receiving visits
from my friend Dr. Priestley, whose religious oj)inions
Avere not satisfactory to the strict orthodoxy of St. Giles's.
I was rumoured to be a philosopher, a torturer of live
animals, and an atheist. "Whether the former accusation
were true or not, let others decide ; the two latter, heaven
be my witness, were wholly unfounded. However, when
the neighbouring rabble saw a drunken woman with a
littlo girl entering my door, a report got abroad at onco
that I was going to vivisect a Christian child. The mob
soon collected in force, and broke into the laboratory. At
that moment I was engaged, with my assistant, in operat-
ing upon the girl, while several cats, all completely
anaistheticised, were bound down on the boards around,
awaiting the healing of their wounds after the removal of
tumours. At the sight of such apparent tortures the
people grew wild with rage, and happening in their
transports to fling down a largo bottle of the anegeiric, or
rAUSODYMJ. 243
reviving mixture, the child and tho animals all at oiico
recovered coiiscioiisness, and began of coTirso to writho
and scream with acute pain. I need not describe to you
the .scene that ensued. ]My laboratory was wrecked, my
assistant severely injured, and I myself barely escaped
with my life.
" After this contretemps I determined to bo more cautious.
I took tho lease of a new house at Ilaiupstead, and in the
garden I determined to build myself a subterranean labor-
atory wlure I might be absolutely free from intrusion. I
hired some labourers from I'ath for this purpose, and I
explained to them tho nature of my wishes, and tho
absolute necessity of secrecy. A high wall surrounded
the garden, and here tho workmen worked securely and
unseen. I concealed my design even from mv dear brother
■ — whose grandson or groat-grandson I su])poso you must
bo — and when the building was finished, I sent my men
back to Bath, with strict injunctions never to mention tho
matter to any one. A trap-door in the cellar, artfully
concealed, gave access to the passage; a largo oak portal,
bound with iron, shut mo socurelyin; and my air supply
was obtained by means of pipes communicating through
l)lank spaces in the brick wall of the garden with tho
(juter atmosphere. Every arrangement for concealment
Avas perfect ; and I resolved in future, till my results were
perfectly established, thar I would dispense with tlio aid
of an assistant.
" 1 was in high spirits when I went to visit my Amelia
that evening, and I told her confidently that before tho
end of the year I expected to gain tho gold medal of the
lloyal Society. Tho dear gii'l was pleased at my glowing
prospects, and gave mo every assurance of the delight
with which she hailed the probability of our ai)proaching
union.
" Next day I began my experiments afresh in my new
quarters. I bolted myself into the laboratory', and set to
244 STRANGE STORIES.
work with renewed vigour. I was exporimcnting upon
an injured dog, and I plr.ced a large Iwttlo of pansodyno
beside mo as I administered the drug to his nostrils. The
rising fumes seemed to affect my bead more tlian usual in
that confined space, and I tottered a little as I worked.
My arm grew weaker, and at last fell powerless to my side.
As it fell it knocked down the largo bottle of pausodyne,
and I saw the liquid spreading over the floor. That was
almost the last thing that I knew. I staggered toward
the door, but did not reach it ; and then I remember
nothing more for a considerable period."
He wiped his forehead v;ith his sleeve — he had no hand-
kerchief — and then proceeded.
" When I woke up again the effects of the pausodyne
had worn themselves out, and I felt that I must have
remained unconscious for at least a week or a fortnight.
My candle had gone out, and I could not find my tinder-
box. I rose np slowly and with difliculty, for tho air of
tho room was clo.^e and filled with fumes, and made mj-
way in tho dark towards the door. To my surprise, tho
bolt was so stift" with rust that it would hardly move. I
opened it after a struggle, and found myself in the passage.
Groping my way towards the trap-door of the cellar, I felt
it was obstructed by some heavy body. AVith an immense
efibrt, for my strength seemed but feeble, I pushed it up,
and discovered that a heap of sea-coals lay on top of it. I
extricated myself into tho cellar, and there a fresh surprise
awaited me. A new entrance had been made into the
front, so that I walked out at once upon the open road,
instead of up the stairs into the kitchen. Looking up at
the exterior of my house, my brain reeled with bewilder-
ment when I saw that it had disappeared almost entirely,
and that a difi'erent porch and wholly unfamiliar windows
occupied its facade. I must have slept fur longer than I
at first imagined — perhaps a whole year or more. A
vague terror prevented me from walking up the steps of
PAUSODYNE. 215
my own home. Possibly my Lrotlier, thinking mo (lead,
might have sold the lease ; possibly some stranger might
resent my intrusion into the house that was now his own.
At any rate, I thought it safer to walk inta the road. I
would go towards London, to my brother's house in St.
Mary lo Bone. I turned into the Ilampstead lioad, and
directed my steps thitherward.
" Again, another surprise began to aflect me with a
horrible and ill-defined sense of awe. Not a single object
that I saw was really familiar to mo. I recognized that I
was in the llampstead lioad, but it was not the Ilampstead
lioad which I used to know before my fatal experiments.
The houses were far more numerous, the trees were bigger
and older. A year, nay, even a few years would not have
sufficed for such a change. I began to fear that I had slept
away a whole decade.
" It was early morning, and few people were yet abroad.
But the costume of those whom I met seemed strange and
fantastic to me. Moreover, I noticed that they all turned
and looked after mo with evident surprise, as though my
dress caused them <piite as much astonishment as theirs
caused me. I was quietly attired in my snuff-coloured
suit of small-clothes, with silk stockings and simple buckle
shoes, and I had of course no hat ; but I gathered that my
appearance caused universal amazement and concern, far
more than could be justified by the mere accidental
absence of head-gear. A dread began to oppress me that
I might actually have slept out my whole age and gener-
ation. Was my Amelia alive? and if so, wcmld she bo
still the same Amelia I had known a week or two before ?
Should I find her an aged woman, still cherishing a
reminiscence of her former love ; or might she herself
perhaps be dead and forgotten, while I remained, alouo
and solitary, in a world which knew me not?
" I walked along unmolested, but with reeling brain,
through streets more and more unfamiliar, till I came
2tG STRANGE STORIES.
near tlio St. Mary le liono Road. Thoro, as I hesitated
a httlo and staggered at the crossing, a man in a curious
suit of dark blue clothes, with a grotesque felt helmet on
his head, whom I afterwards found to bo a constable,
came up and touched mo on tlie shoulder.
" ' Look here," he said to me in a rougli voice, ' what
are ymi a-doin' in this 'ere fancy-dress at this hour in the
mornin' ? You've lost your way home, I take it.'
" ' I was going,' I answered, 'to the St. Mary le Bono
Eoad.'
'"Wliy, you image,' says he rudely, 'if you mean
Marrihon, wliy don't you say Marribon ? AMiat house
are you a-lookin' for, eh ? '
"'My brother lives,' I replied, 'at the Lamb, near St.
Mary's Church, and I was going to his residence.'
^"'The Lamb!' says he, with a rude laugli : 'there
ain't no public of that name in tlio road. It's my belief,'
he goes on after a moment, ' that you're drunk, or mad, or
else you've stole them clothes. Any way, you've o-ot to
go along with me to the station, so walk it, will you*? '
" ' I'ardon me,' I said, ' I suppose you arc an officer of
the law, and 1 would not attempt to resist your authority '
— ' You'd better not,' says he, half to himself—' but I
should like to go to my brother's house, where I could
show you that I am a respectable person.'
" 'Well,' says my fellow insolently, ' I'll go along of
you if you like, and if it's all right, I suppose you won't
mind standing a bob ?'
" ' A what ? ' said I.
" ' A bob,' says he, laughing; *a shillin', you know.'
" To get rid of his insolence for a while, I pulled out my
purse and handed him a sliilling. It was a George II..
with milled edges, not like the things I see you use now..
He held it up and looked at it, and then lie said again,'.
*Look here, you know, this isn't good. You'd better come
along with me straight to the station, and not make a fusa
PAUSODYNE. 217
about it. There's three charj^es against you, that's all.
One is, that you're drunk. The second is, that you're
mad. And the third is, that you've been trying to utter
falso'coin. Anyone of 'em's quite enoiigli to justify me
in takin' you into custody.'
" I saw it was no use to resist, and T went along with
him.
" I won't trouble you with the whole of the details, but
the upshot of it all was, they took me before a magistrate.
By this time I had begun to realize the full terror of the
situation, and I saw clearly that the real danger lay in
the inevitable suspicion of madness under which I must
labour. AVlien I got into the court I told the mngistrate
my story very shortly and simply, as I have told it to you
now. lie listened to me without a word, and at tlie end
he turned round to his clerk and said, ' This is clearly
a case for Dr. Fitz-Jeukins, 1 think.'
" ' Sir,' I said, ' before you send me to a madhouse,
which I suj^poso is what you mean by these words, 1
trust you will at least examine the evidences of my story.
Look at my clothing, look at these coins, look at every-
thing about me.' And I handed him my purse to see for
himself.
"lie looked at it for a minute, and then ho turned
towards mo very sternly. ' Mr. Spottiswood,' lie said, ' or
whatever else your real name may be, if this is a joke, it
is a very foolish and unbecoming one. Your dress is no
doubt very well designed ; your small collection of coins
is interesting and well-selected ; and you have got up
your character remarkably well. If you are really sane,
which I suspect to be the case, then your studied attempt
to waste the time of this court and to make a laughing-
stock of its magistrate will meet with the punishment it
deserves. I shall remit your case for consideration to our
medical officer. If you consent to give him your real
name and address, you will be liberated after his exarain-
218 STJiAXGE STOItlES.
ation. Otliorwlso, it will Lo necessary to satisfy ourselves
as to yonr identity. Not a Avord more, sir,' he continued,
as I tried to speak on Lelialf of my story. ' Inspector,
remove the prisoner.'
"They took mo awaj', and tlio surgeon examined me.
To cut things sliort, I was pronounced mad, and three days
later the commissioners passed mo for a pauper asylum.
When r came to bo examined, they said 1 showed no
recollection of most subj(?cts of ordinary education.
" ' T am a chemist,' said I ; ' try me with some chemical
questicms. You will see tliat I can ansAver sanely enough.'
" ' ] low do you mix a grey powder ? ' said the commis-
sioner.
" ' Excuse me,' 1 said, ' I mean a chemical philosopher,
not an apothecary.'
" ' Oh, very well, then ; what is carbonic acid ?'
" ' I never heard of it,' 1 answered in despair. *■• It must
be something which has come into use since — since I left
off learning chemistry.' For I had discovered that my
only chance now was to avoid all reference to my past
life and the extraordinary calamity which had thus
unexpectedly overtaken mo. ' Please try mo with some-
thing else.'
" ' Oh, certainly. What is the atomic weight of
chlorine '? '
*' I could only answer that I did not know.
" ' This is a very clear case,' said the commissioner.
* Evidently ho is a gentleman by birth and education, but
ho can give no very satisfactory account of his friends,
and till they come forward to claim him we can only send
him for a time to North ytreet.'
" ' For Heaven's sake, gentlemen,' I cried, ' before you
consign me to an asylum, giA e me one more chance. I
am perfectly sane ; I remember all I ever knew; but you
are asking me questions about subjects on which I never
Lad any information. Ask me anything historical, and
PArSODTNE. 249
KOO whether I have forgotten or confused any of n»y
facts."
" I will do the commissioner tlio justice to Kiy lliat ho
.seemed anxious not to decide upon the case without full
consideratiou. ' Tell mo wliat you can recollect,' he said,
*as to the rei<;n of Georgo IV.'
"'I know ncjtliing at all ahout it,' T answered, terror-
.striclcen, 'but oh, do pray ask ]ue anything up to the tiiiio
of Georgo III.'
" ' Then please say what you think of tho French
llevolution.'
" I was thunderstruck. I could make no rejtly, and
tho commissioners shortly signed the papers to send me to
North Street pauper asylum. Tliey hurried mo into tho
.street, and I walked beside my captcu-s towards the prisim
to which they had consigned mo. Yet I did not give up
all hope even so of ultimately regaining my freed(un. I
thought tho rationality of my demeanour and the obvious
soundness of all my reasoning powers would suflico in timo
to satisfy tho medical attendant as to my perfect sanity.
I felt sure that people could never long mistake a man so
clear-headed and collecved as myself for a madman.
" On our way, however, wo happened to pass a church-
yard where some workmen were engaged in removing a
number of old tombstones from the crowded area. Even
in my existing agitated condition, I could not help catching
the name and date on one mouldering slab which a
labourer had just placed upon the edge of the jiavement.
It ran something like this : ' Sacred to the memory of
Amelia, second daugliter of the late Sir Thomas Spragg,
knight, and beloved wife of Henry McAlister, Esq., by
whom this stone is erected. Died May 20, 1790, aged
14 years.' Though I had gathered already that my dear
girl must probably have long been dead, yet the reality of
tlie fact had not yet had timo to fix itself upon my mind.
You must remember, my dear sir, that I had but awaked
250 STUANGE STOIiTES.
u few days earlier from iny long slumber, and that
during tlioso days I had Ijeon harassed and agitated l)y
such a flood of ineoinprehensiblo comidications, tliat I
could not really grasp in all its fulness the comploto
isolation of my present position. AVhen I saw the tomb-
stone of one wliom, as it seemed to mo, I had hjved pas-
sionately but a week or two before, I could not refrain
from rusliing to embrace it, and covering the insensible
stone with my boiling teiirs. ' Oh, my Amelia, ray
Amelia,' I cried, ' I shall never again behold thee, then I
I shall never again press thee to my heart, or hear thy
dear lips pronounce my name ! '
" But the unfeeling wretches who had charge of me
were far from being moved to sympathy by my bitter
grief. ' Died in 1799,' said one of them with a sneer.
' Why, this madman's blubbering over tlie grave of an
old lady who has been buried for about a hundred j-ears ! '
And the workmen joined in their laughter as my gaolers
tore me away to the prison wlioi'e I was to spend the
remainder of my days.
" AVlicn we arrived at the asylum, the surgeon in attend-
ance was informed of this circumstance, and the opinion
that I was hopelessly mad thus became ingrained in his
•whole conceptions of my case. I remained live months or
more in the asylum, but I never saw any chance of
creating a more favourable impression on the minds of the
authorities. IMixing as 1 did only with other patients, I
could gain no clear ideas of what had happened since I
had taken my fatal sleep ; and whenever I endeavoured to
question the keepers, they amused themselves by giving
me evidently false and inconsistent answers, in order to
enjoy my chagrin and confusion. I could not even learn
the actual date of the present year, for one keeper would
laugh and say it was 2001, -while another would con-
fidentially advise me to date my petition to the Com-
missioners, " Jan. 1, A.D. one million." The surgeon, who
PAUSODYNE. 2r.t
never played mo any such pranlcs, yet refused to aid mo
in any way, lest, as ho said, ho should strengthen mo in
my sad delusion. IIo was convinced that I must ho an
historical student, whoso reason had hroken down throu<i-h
too close study of tho eighteenth century ; and ho felt
certain that sooner or later my friends would como to
claim mo. lie is a geiitlo and humane man, against whom
I have no personal complaint to make ; but his initial
misconception prevented him and everybody else from
ever paying tho least attention to juy story. I could
not even induce them to make inquiries at my house
at Hampstead, where the discovery of the subterranean
laboratory would have partially proved tho truth of my
account.
" Many visitors came to the asylum from timo to time,
and they were always told tliat I possessed a minute and
remaikablc acquaintance with the history of tho eighteenth
century. They questioned rao about facts which arc as
vivid in my memory as tlioso of the present month, and
were much surprised at tho accuracy of ray replies. But
they only thought it strange that so clever a man should
be so very mad, and that my information should bo so fuU
as to past events, while my notions about tho modern world
were so utterly chaotic. Tho surgeon, however, always
believed that my reticence about all events posterior to
1781 was a part of my insanity. I had studied the early
part of the eighteenth century so fully, ho said, that I
fancied I had lived in it ; and 1 had persuaded myself that
I know nothing at all about tho subsequent state of tho
world."
Tho poor fellow stopped a while, and again drew his
sleeve across his forehead. It was impossible to look
at him and believe for a moment that he was a madman.
" And how did you make your escape from the asylum ? '
I asked.
" Now, this very evening," ho answered ; " I simply
252 ^TEANGE tiTOIilES,
broke away from the door and ran down toward the
Strand, till I canio to a place that looked a little like St.
]\Iartin'.s Fields, with a groat column and .some fountains,
and near there I met you. It seemed to me that the best
thing to do was to catch the York coach and get away
from the town as soon as possible. You met mo, and your
look and name inspired nio with conlidcnce. I believe
you must bo a descendant of my dear brother."
"I have not the slightest doubt," I answered solemnly,
"that every word of your story is true, and that you are
really my great-great-unelo. My own knowledge of our
family history exactly tallies Avith wliat you tell me. I
shall spare no endeavour to clear up this extraordinary
matter, and to put you once more in your true position.''
•' And you will protect me ? " he cried fervently, clasping
my hand in both his own with intense eagerness. " You
will not give me up once more to the asylum people ? "
" I will do everything on earth that is possible for you,"
I replied.
lie lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it several
times, while I felt hot tears falling upon it as ho bent
over me. It was a strange position, lo<jk at it how you
will. Grant Lhat I was but the dupe of a madman, yet
even to believe for a moment that I, a man of well-nigh
fifty, stood there in face of my OAvn grcat-grand-father's
brother, to all appearance some twenty years my junior,
was in itself an extraordinary and marvellous thing.
Both of us were too overcome to speak. It was a few
minutes before we said anything, and then a loud knock
at the door made my hunted stranger rise uj) hastily
in terror from his chair.
" Gracious Heavens ! " he cried, " they have tracked me
hither. They are coming to fetch me. Oh, hide me, hide
mo, anywhere from these wretches ! "
As he spoke, the door opened, and two keepers with
a policemaii entered my room.
FAUSODYM'.. lia.T
•' Ah, hero he is ! " said one of them, advanciiif^ towards
the fugitive, who shrank away towards tlic window as
he approached.
"Do ^ot touch him," I exclaimed, throwing myself in
the wa^ " Every word of what he says is true, and he is
no more in^ano than I am."
The keeper laughed a low laugh of vnlgar incredulity.
"Why, there's a pair of you, I do helievo," ho said.
"You're just as mad j'ourself as t'other one." And ho
pushed me aside roughly to get at his charge.
But the poor fellow, seeing him come towards him,
seemed suddenly to grow instinct with a terrible vigour,
and hurled off the keeper with one hand, as a strong man
might do with a little terrier. Then, l)eforc we could sec
"what he was meditating, he jumped u})on the ledge of the
open Avindow, shouted out loudly, " Farewell, farewell ! "
and leapt with a spring on to the embankment beneath.
All four of us rushed hastily down the three flights
of steps to the bottom, and came below upon a crushed
and mangled mass on the spattered paveinent. Tie was
quite dead. Even the policeman was sh(icked and horrified
at the dreadful way in which the hodj' had been crushed
and mutilated in its fall, and at the suddenness and un-
expectedness of the tragedy. Wo took him up and laid
him out in my room ; and from that room ho was interred
after the inquest, with all the respect which I should have
paid to an undoubted relative. On his grave in Kensal
Green Cemcteiy I liavo placed a stone bearing the simple
inscription, " Jonathan Spottiswood. Died 1881." The
hint I had received from the keeper prevented me from
saying anything as to my belief in his story, but I asked
for leave to undertake the duty of his interment on the
ground that ho bore my own surname, and that no other
person was forthcoming to assume the task. The parochial
authorities were glad enough to rid the ratejiayers of the
expense.
254 STRANGE STORIES.
At the inquest I gave my eviacnce simply and briefly
dwelhng mainly upon the accidental natureof our meetin-
and the facts as to his fatal leap. I said nothing about
the known disappearance of Jonathan Spottiswood in 1781
nor the other points which gave credibility to his stran^'e
tale._ Bu from this day forward I give myself up to
proving the truth of his story, and realizing the splendid
chemica discovery which promises so mucli benefit to
mankind For the first purpose, I have offered a larc^o
reward for the discovery of a trap-door in a coal-cellar tt
Hampstead, leading into a subterranean passage and
laboratory ; since, unfortunately, my unhappy visUor did
not happen to mention the position of his house. For the
second purpose, I have begun a series of experiments upon
.he properties of the essential oil of alchemilla, and the
possibiity of successfully treating it with carbonic anhy-
dride ; since, unfortunately, ho was equally va^ue as to
the naUire of his process and the proportions of eltllei col-
^hat I myself have become infected with the monomania
of my miserable namesake, but I am determined at any
rate not to allow so extraordinary an anaesthetic to 4
unacknowledged, if there be even a remote chance of
actually proving its useful nature. Meanwhile, I sav
nothing even to my dearest friends with regard to the
researches upon which I am engaged.
THE E3ipni:ss of axdorea.
All the troubles in Andorra arose from tlio fact tliat tho
town clerk had views of his own respecting the Holy
Roman Empire.
Of course everybody knows that fur many centuries the
Eepublic of Andorra, situated in an isolated valley among
the Pyrenees, has enjoyed the noble and inestimable boon
of autonomy. Not that the Andorrans have been accus-
tomed to call it by that name, because, you see, the name
was not yet invented ; but the thing itself tliey have long
possessed in all its full and glorious significjince. The
ancient constitution of the Itepublic may bo briefly de-
scribed as democracy tempered by stiletto. The free and
independent citizens did that which seemed ri-dit in their
own eyes; unless, indeed, it suited their convenience
better to do that which seemed wrong ; and, in the latter
case, they did it unhesitatingly. So every man in Andorra
stabbed or shot his neighbour as he willed, especially if ho
suspected his neighbour of a prior intention to stab oi-
shoot him. The Eepublic contained no gallows, capital
punishment having been entirely abolished, and, for the
matter of that, all other punishment into tlie bargain. In
short, the town of Andorra was really a verj eligible
place of residence fur families or gentlemen, provided
only they were decently expert in the use of the pistol.
However, in this model little Eepublic, as elsewhere.
25G STRANGE STORIES.
society found itself ranged under two camps, the Liberal
and the Conservative. And Ust any man should hei'eiu
suspect the present veracious historian of covert satirical
intent, or sly allusion to the politics of neighbouring
Stales, it may be well to add that there was not much
to chooso between the Liberals and the Conservatives of
Andorra.
Now, the town clerk was the acknowledged and osten-
sible head of the Great Liberal Party. His name in full
consisted of some twenty high-sounding Spanish preno-
mens, followed by about the same number of equally high-
sounding surnames ; but I need only trouble you hero
with the first and last on the list, which were simply
Seilor Don redio Ilonriqucz. It happened that Don
Pedro, being a learned man, took in all the English
periodicals ; and so I need hardly tell you that he was
thoroughly well up in the Holy Roman Empire question.
He could have passed a competitive examination on that
subject before IMr. Freeman, or held a public discussion
Avith Professor Ihyce himself. The town clerk was per-
fectly aware that the Holy Roman Empire had come to an
end, pro ton. at least, in the j'ear eighteen hundred and
something, when Francis the First, Second, or Third,
renounced for himself and his heirs for ever the imperial
Roman title. But the town clerk also knew that the
Holy Roman Empire had often lain in abeyance for years
or even centuries, and had afterwards been resuscitated by
some Karl (whom the wicked call Charlemagne), some
Otto, or some Henry the Fowler. And the town clerk, a
bold and ambitious young man, reflecting on these things,
had formed a deep oclieme in his inmost heart. The deep
scheme was after this wise.
Why not revive the Holy Roman Empire in Andorra ?
Nothing C(m]d be more simple, more natural, or more in
accordance with the facts of history. Even Mr. Freeman
could have no plausible argument to urge against it. For
THE EMPBESi^ OF AND01?IIA. 2:>1
observe how well tlio .scliomo hangs togotlier. AiKlon-it
formed an imdoul)ted and integral portion of the Roman
Empire, having been ineluded in licgion VII., Diocese !','>
(Ilispania Citerior VIII.), under the division of J)io-
cletian. r>nt the Empire liaving gone to pieces at the
present day, any fragment of that Empire may ro-consti-
tute itself the whole ; " just as the tentacle of a hydi a
polype," said Don Pedro (wlio, you Icnow, was a very
learned man), " ms,y ro-constituto itself into a perfect
animal, by developing a body, liead, mouth, and foot-stalk. "
(This, as you are well aware, is called the Analogical
Method of I'olitical Reasoning.) Therefore, there was n(.
just cause or impediment why Andorra should not set u]>
to bo the original and only genuine representative of tlic
Holy Roman Empire, all others being spurious imitationt^.
— Q. E. D.
The town clerk had further determined in his own
mind that ho himself was the Karl (not Charlemagne i
who was destined to raise up this revived and splendid
Roman Empire. lie had already struck coins in imagin-
ation, bearing on the obverse his imago and superscrip-
tion, and the proud title " Imp. Petrus P. E. Aug. Pater
Patriae Cos. XVIII. ; " with a reverse of Victory crowned,
and the legend "Renovatio Romanorum." But this part
of his scheme he kept as yet deeply buried in the recesses
of his own soul.
As regards the details of this Cresarian plan, much
diversity of opinion existed in the minds of the Liberal
leaders. Don Pedro himself, as champion of education,
proposed that the new Emperor should be elected by
competitive examination ; in which case he felt sure that
his own knowledge of the Holy Roman Empire would
easily place him at the head of tho list. But his colleague.
Don Luis Dacosta, who was tho Joseph Hume of Andorran
polities, rather favoured the notion of sending in sealed
tenders for executing tho office of Sovereign, the State not
2o8 STRANGE STOUIhS.
binding its;ilf to accept tlio lowest or any other tender;
and lio liad hinisclt" determined to make an olfer for
wearing the crown at tlio modest icmuneration of three
hundred pounds per annum, payable quarterly. Again,
Don lago Montcs, a poetical young man, -wlio believed
lirmly in prcatujo^ advocated the id(,'a of inviting the
younger son of some German Grand-Duko to accept the
Imperial Crown, and the faithful hearts of a loyal
Andorran people, liut those minor points could easily bo
settled iu the future : and the important object for the
immediate present, said Don Pedro, was tlio acceptance hi
p'lncipU of the resuscitated Holy lioman Empire.
Don Pedro's designs, however, met with considerable
opposition from the Conservative party in the Folk Mote.
(They called it Polk jMotc, and not Cortes or Fueros, on
pui'posc to annoy historical critics ; and for the same
reason they always styled tlioir chief magistrate, not the
Alcalde, but the P>urgomaster.) The Conservative leader,
Don Juan Pereira (first and last names only ; intermediate
thirty-eight omitted for want of space \) wisely observed
that the good old constitution had suited our fathers
admirably ; that wo did not wish to go beyond the wisdom
of our ancestors ; that young men were apt to prove
thoughtless or precipitate; and finally that " Nolunms
leges Andorroc mutare." Hereupon, Don I'edro objected
that the growing anarchy of the citizens, whose stabbings
were increasing by geometiical progression, called for the
establishment of a strong government, whicli should curb
the lawless habits of the jeuncsse doree. lint Don Juan
retorted that stabbing was a very useful practice in its
way; that no citizen ever got stabbed unless lie liad made
Iiimself obnoxious to a fellow-citizen, which was a gross
and indefensible piece of incivism ; and that stilettos had
always been considered extremely respectable instruments
by a large number of deceased Andorran worthies, whoso
names ho proceeded to recount in a long and somewhat
Tiu: i:Mrjir:ss of AXDoniiA. 259
tedious cata'ioguc. (This, you know, is called the Argu-
ment from Anthorit}'.) Tlio Folk ^Voto, which consisted
of men over forty alone, nnanimonsly adopted Don Juan's
views, and at once rejected the town clerk's ]>ill for the
licsuscitatitm of the Holy Iioman Empire.
Thus driven to extremities, the town clerk determined
upon a coup (Vet at. The appeal to the people alone could
save Andorran Society. ]5ut being as cautious as ho was
ahihitious, ho decided not to display his hand too openly
at first. Accordingly ho resolved to elect an Empress to
hegin with ; and then, by marrying the Empress, to
l)ecomo Emperor-Consort, after which ho could easily
secure the Imperial crown on his own account.
To ensure the success of this excellent notion, Don
i'edro trusted to the emotions of tho populace. Tlie way
lie did it was simply this.
At that particular juncture, a beautiful young prima
donna had lately l)een engaged for the National Italian
Opera, Andorra. She was to appear as the Grande DncJiesse
on tho very evening after that on which tho Resuscitation
Bill had been thrown out on a third reading. Tliis
amiable lady bore the name of Signorita Nora Obrienelli.
She was of Italian parentage, but born in America, where
her father, Signor Patricio Obrienelli, a banished Nea-
politan nobleman and patriot, had been better known as
Paddy O'Brien; having adopted that disguise to protect
himself from the ubiquitous emissaries of King Bomba.
lEowever, on her first appearance upon any stage, the
Signorita once more resumed her discarded patronymic of
Obrienelli ; and it is this circumstance ah^nt^ which has
led certain scandalous journalists maliciously to assert that
her father was really an Irish chimney-sweep. But not
to dwell on these genealogical details, it will suffice to
say that Signorita Nora was a beautiful young lady with
a magnificent soprano voice. The enthusiastic and gallant
Andurrans were already wild at the mere sight of her
2G0 STJiANOr: STORIKS.
l)caiity, and expected g-rciit tilings from her operatic
powers.
Don IV'dro marked iiis oppoitunit}'. (.'ailing; on tlio
inlma donna in the ai'ternoon, faidllossly attired in frock-
coat, cliiinnry-pot, and lavender kid gloves, the ambitious
politician offered her a h()n(pict worth at least throe-aod-
sixpenco, accompanied hy a profound how; and inquired
Avhether the title and position of Empress would suit hor
views.
"Down to tho ground, my dear Don Pedro," replied the
impulsive actress. " The resuscitation of tho Holy Roman
Empire has long been the dream of my existence."
Half an hour sufficed to settle the details. The pro-
tocols were signed, tho engagements delivered, and tho
fate of Andorra, with that of the Holy lioman Empire
attached, trembled for a moment in the balance. Don
I'edro hastily left U> organi/c the coup iVi'tat, and to hire a
special body of claqnenrs for tho occasion.
Evening drew on apace, big with the fato of IV'dro and
of Eome. The Opera House was crowded. Stalls and
boxes glittered with the partisans of tho Liberal leader,
tho expectant hero of a revived Ca>sarism. The claque
occupied the pit and gallery. Enthusiasm, real and simu-
lated, knew no bounds. Signorita Obrienclli was almost
smothered with bouquets ; and the music of catcalls re-
sounde(l throughout tho house. At length, in the second
act, when the; prima donna entered, crown on head and
robes (^f state trained behind, in tho official costume of tho
Grand-Duchess of (lerolstein, Don Pedro raised himself
from his seat and cried in a loud voice, " Long live Nora,
Empress of Andorra and of the Holy Poman Empire ! "
Tho whole audience rose as one man. " Long live the
Empress," re-echoed from every side of the building.
Handkerchiefs waved ecstatically; women sobbed with
emotion ; old men w^ept tears of joy that they had lived
to behold the Penovationof the Poraans. In five minutes
Tin: IMVRKSS OF ANDOniLl. '2C,\
tho rcvolulion ^vas a fait nccompU. Don Jiiaii Poroira
obtained early news of tho coiij) (Vctat, and tied precipitately
aeross tho border, to escape tho i)opular veiii:;eance — not
a diflicult feat, as the bonndaries of the (piondani liepublir
(ixtended only five miles in any direction. Tlieneo tho
broken-hearted old patriot betook himself into France,
M'hero ho intended at first to commit suicide, in imitation
of Cato ; but on second tlious2;hts, lie decided to proceed to
Ouernsey, where he entered into ne_t;-otiation8 for pui-elias-
iug Victor Hugo's house, and 1rie<l to ]ioso as a kind of
pendent to that banislied poet and politician.
Although this mode of election Avas afterwards com-
mented upon as informal by the Kuro^x^an Press, Don Pedro
successfully defended it in a learned letter to tlie Times,
nnder the signature of " Ilistoricns Secundus," in whicli
he pointed out that a similar mode has long been practised
by tho Sacred College, who call it " Electio per Inspira-
tionem."
Tho very next day, the Bishop of IJrgel drove over to
Andorra, and crowned tlie hap])y j;/7'ma donna as Empress.
Great rejoicings immediately followed, and tlui illumina-
tions were conducted on so grand a scale that the single
tallow-chandler in the town sold out his entire stock-in-
trade, and many houses went witliout candles for a whole
week.
Of course the first act of the grateful sovereign was to
extend her favour to Don Pedro, who had been so largely
instrumental in placing her npon tho throne. She im-
mediately created him Chancellor of Andorra and Prince
of the Holy Eoman Empire. Tho ol'tice of town clerk was
abolished in perpetuity ; while an hereditary estate of five
acres was conferred npon ll.E. the Chancellor and his
posterity for ever.
Don Pedro had now the long-wished-for opportunity of
improving the social and political position of tJiat Andor-
ran people whom he had so greatly loved. lie determined
2G2 STRAXUi: STORIES.
to endow ihom witli Priinuiy Ivliication, a Xjitioii.il DeLl.
Free Lil)riiriu.s uiul iMusovims, tlio luconio Tax, Fomalo
SufiVago, Trial by .fuiy, ruriuissivc rrohiljitoiy Bills, a
Pk'biiscituiii, an Extradition Treaty, a Magna Cliarta
Associatit)n, and all tlio other l)lcs.sin<^s of modern civiliza-
tion. By these means ho hoped to in!j;ratiato himself in
the piihlie favour, and thus at length to place him.selt"
unopposed upon the Imperial and Holy Ivoman throne.
His first .stej) was the settlcinent of the (Constitution.
And as he was quit*; determined in his own mind that the
poor little Empress should only he a puppet in the hands
of her Chancellor, who was to act us jMayor of the Talace
(observe how well his historical learning stootl him in
good stead on all occasions !j, Ik* decided that the revived
Empire should take the form of a strictly limited mon-
archy. II(! had some idea, indeed, of proclaiming it as
the " Holy lionum Empire (Limited) ; " but on second
thoughts it occurr(>d to him that the phrase might bo
misinterpreted as referring to the somewhat exiguous
extent of the Andorran territory : and as he wished it to
be understood that the new State was an aggressive Power,
which contemplated the final absorption of all the other
Latin races, he wisely refrained from the equivocal title.
However, he settled the Constitution on a broad and liberal
basis, after the following fashion. I quote from his rough
draft-sketch, the completed document being too long for
insertion in full.
" The supreme authority resides in the Sovereign and
the Folk Mote. The Sovereign reigns, but does not govern
(at present). The Folk Mote has full legislative and
deliberative powers. It consists of fourteen members,
chosen from the fourteen wards of East and West Andorra.
(Members for Spain, France, Portugal, and Italy may
hereafter be added, raising the total complement tO'
eighteen.) The right of voting is granted to all persons,
male or female, above eighteen years of age. The execu-
Tin: EMPUESS OF ANDOIiliA. 2C,3
tive powor rests witli tlio Clianccllor of tlio Empire, who
acts in tlio iiiiino of tho Suvoreit^n. IIo posMosscs a ri;:;]it
of veto on all acts of tho Folk jMote. Ills olliei! is per-
petual. Vifnt I)iipeyatrix /^^
This (.'oiistitution -was proposed to a riihlic Assenihly
or Cornitia of tho Anih)rran peo[)le, and was iinnn-d lately
carried 7/('?H. COM. Enthusiasm was tho order of tho day:
]Jon Tedro was a handsome younjj; man, of p-rsoiial p()[)U-
larity: tho hidies of Andorra were delii^litod with any
Behemo of ^'()vernnicnt which oit'eri'd them a vote : and
tho mon had all a high opinion of JJon Pedro's learning'.
^0 nohody opposed a singlo "Tauso of tho Constitution on
any ground.
Tho next stop to bo taken consisted in gaining tho affec-
tions of tho Empress. But hero Don Tedro found to his
cunsternation that ho had reckoned without; his hostess.
It is an easy thing to make a revolution iu the body politic,
hut it is much more serious to attempt a I'evolution in
a woman's heart. Her Majesty's had long l)et'n Lestowed
olscwhero. It is true she had encouraged Don Pedro's
attentions on his lirst momentous visit, but that might bo
largely accounted for on political grounds. It is true also
thatsho was still cpiitc ready to carry on an innocent flirta-
tion with her handsome young (Jhancellor when ho camo
to deliberate upon matters of state, Imt that she had often
done before with tho lout of an actor who took tho part
of Fritz. "Prince," she would say, with one of her sunny
smiles, " do just wdiat you like about tho Permissive I'ro-
hibitory Pill, and let us have a glass of sparkling Sillery
together in tho Council Chamber. You and I aro too
young, and, shall I say, too good-looking, to trouble our
poor little heads about politics and such rubbish. Youth,
after all, is nothing without champagno and love ! "
And yet her heart — her heart w as over tho sea. During
one of her starring engagements among the Central
American States, Signorita ObriencUi had made tho
2G4 STRANGE STORIES.
acquaintanco of Don Carlos INIontillado, eldest son of the
President of Guatemala. A mutual attachment had sprung
up between the young couple, and had taken the practical
form of bou([uets, bracelets, and cliampagne suppers; but,
alas ! the dilfcrence in their ranks had long hindered the
fulfilment of Don ( ^arlos's anxious vows. Ilis Excellency
tho President constantly declared tliat nothing could
induce him to consent to a marriage between his son and
a strolling actrcs-s — in such insolent terms did the wretch
allude to tho future occupant of an Imperial throne ! Now,
however, all was changed. Fate had smiled upon tho
happy lovers, and Don Carlos was already on his way
to Andorra . as Ambassador Extraordinary and Minister
Plenipotentiary from tho Guatemalan llopublic to the
renovated Empire. The poor Chancellor discovered too
late that he had baited a hook for his own destruction.
However, ho did not yet despair. To be sure the
Empress, young, beautiful, and with a magnificent soprano
voice, had seated herself firndy in the hearts of her sus-
ceptible subjects. Besides, her engaging manners, marked
by all the charming abandon of the stage, allowed her to
make conquests freely among her liegcj, each of whom she
encouraged in turn, while smiling slily at the discarded
rivals. Still, Don Pedro took heart once more. " Eevo-
lution enthroned her," he muttered between his teeth,
*' and counter-revolution shall disenthrone her yet. These
silly people will smirk and bow while she pretends to be
in love with every one of them from day to day ; but when
once the young Guatemalan has carried off tho prize they
will regret their folly, and turn to the Chancellor, whose
heart has always been fixed upon the welfare of Andorra."
With this object in viyw, the astute politician worked
harder than over for the regeneration of the State. His
policy falls under two heads, the External and the Internal.
Each head deserves a passing mention from the laborious
historian.
TUE EMPRESS OF A2sDUltRA. 265
Don Pedro's External Policy consisted in the annexation
of Franco, Spain, Portugal, and Italy, and tlio amalga-
mation of the Latin races. Accordingly, lie despatched
Ambassadors to the courts of those four Powers, informing
them that the Holy Roman Empire had been resuscitated
in Andorra, and inviting them to send in their adhesion
to tlio now State. In that case he assured them that each
country should possess a representative in the Imperial
Folk Mote on the same terms as the several wards of An-
dorra itself, and that the settlement of local affairs should
be loft unreservedly to the minor legislatures, while tho
Chancellor of tho Empire in person would manage tho
military and naval forces and the general executive de-
partment of tho whole Confederation. As the four Powers
refused to take any notice of Don Pedro's manifesto, tho
Chancellor declared to the Folk Mote his determination of
treating them as recalcitrant rebels, and reducing them
by force of arms. However, the Andorrau army not being
thoroughly mobilized, and indeed having fallen into a
state of considerable demoralization, the ambitious prince
decided to postpone tho declaration of war «inc die; and
his Foreign Policy accordingly stood over for tho timo
being.
Don Pedro's Internal Policy embraced various measures
of Finance, Electoral Law, Public Morals, and Polico
Regulation.
The financial position of Andorra was now truly deplor-
able. In addition to the expenses of the Imperial Election,
and the hire of post-horses for the Bishop of Urgel to
attend the coronation, it cannot be denied that the Empress
had fallen into most extravagant habits. She insisted
upon drinking Veuve Clicquot every day for dinner, and
upon ordering large quantities of olives farcies and pate de
foie grasy to which delicacies she was inordinately attached.
She also sent to a Parisian milliner for two now bonnets,
and had her measure taken for &poult de Lyon dress. These
2G6 STEANGE STOllIES.
expensive tastes, contracted npon the stapjo, soon drained
tlio Andorran Excliequcr, and the Folk Mote was at its
■\vits>' end to dcvi,«c a Budget. One radical member had
even the Lad tasto to call for a return of Her Majesty's
millinery bill ; but tins motion tho ITouso firmly and
politely declined to sanction. At last Don Pedro stepped
in to solve the difficulty, and proposed an Act for the
Inflation of the Currency.
Inflation is a very simple financial process indeed. It
consists in writing on a smull piece of white paper, " This
is a Dollar," or, " This is a I'ound," as tho case may be,
and then compelling your creditors to accept the paper as
payment in full for the amount written upon its face.
The scheme met with perfect success, and Don Pedro was
much bepraised by tho press as the glorious regenerator
of Andorran Finance.
Among the Chancellor's plains for electoral reform tho
most important was tho Bill for the Promotion of Infant
Suffrage. Don Pedro shrewdly argued that if you wished
to be popular in tho future, you must enlist the sympathies
of tho rising generation by conferring upon them some
signal benefit. Hence his advocacy of Infant Suffrage.
In his great speech to the Folk Mote upon this important
measure, he pointed out that the brutal doctrine of an
appeal to force in the last resort ill befitted the nineteenth
century. Many infants owned property ; therefore they
ought to bo represented. Their property was taxed ; no
taxation without representation ; therefore they ought to
bo rejDresented. Great cruelties were often practised upon
them by their parents, which showed how futile was the
argument that their parents vicariously represented them ;
therefore they ought to be directly represented. An
honourable member on the Opposition side had suggested
that dogs were also taxed, and that great cruelties were
occasionally practised upon dogs. Those facts were per-
fectly true, and he could only say that they proved to him
THE EMPJIESS OF ANDORRA. 207
the thorough desirability of insuring representation for
dogs at some future day. But wc must not movo too fast.
Ho was no hasty radical, no violent rec!)nstructionist ; ho
preferred, stone by stone, to build up the sure and perfect
fabric of their liberties. So he would waive for the time
being the question concerning the rights of dogs, and only
movo at present the third reading of the Bill for tho*
Promotion of Infant Suffrage. A division was hardly
necessary. The Ilonse passed the Act by a majority of
twelve out of a total of fourteen members.
The Bills for the Gratuitous Di>tribution of Lollipops,
for the Wednesday and Saturday Whole Holidays, and for
the Total Abolition of Latin Grammar, followed as a matter
of course. Tho minds of the infant electors were thus
thoroughly enlisted on the Chancellor's side.
As to Moral Kegeneration, that was mainly ensured l)y
the Act for the Absolute Suppression of tho Tea Trade.
No man, said the Chancellor, had a right to endanger tho
health and happiness of his posterity by tho pernicious
habit of tea-drinking. Alcohol they had suppressed, and
tobacco they had suppressed ; but tea still remained a
plague-spot in their midst. It had been proved that tea
and coffee contained poisonous alkaloid principles, known
as theine and caffeine (here tho Chancellor displayed tlic
full extent of his chemical learning), which were all but
absolutely identical with the poisonous principles of opium,
prussic acid, and atheistical literature generally. It might
be said that this Bill endangered the liberty of the subject.
No man had a greater respect for tho liberty of the subject
than he had; ho adored, he idolized, lie honoured with
absolute apotheosis the liberty of the subject ; but in what
did it consist? Not, assuredly, in the right to imbibe a
venomous drug, which polluted the stream of life for
future generations, and was more productive of manifold
diseases than even vaccination itself. " Tea," cried the
orator passionately, raising his voice till the fresh white-
2G8 STRANGE STOPJES.
wash on tlio ceiling of tlio Council CLanibcrtremLled with
sympathetic emotion ; " Tea, forsooth ! Call it rather
Btrychniuo ! Call it arsenic ! Call it the deadly Upas-tree
of Java {Antiaris ioxicaria, Linnceiis) " — what prodigious
learning ! — " which poisons with its fatal breath wnoover
ventures to pass beneath its baleful shadow I I see it
driving out of the fiekl the harmless clujcolate of our fore-
fathers ; I see it forcing its way into the earliest meal of
morning, and the latest meal of eve. I see it now once
more swarming over the Pyrenees from France, with Paris
fashions and bad romances, to desecrate the sacred hoi>r of
five o'clock with its newfangled presence. The infant in
arms finds it rendered palatable t(j his tender years by the
insidious addition of copious milk and sugar ; the hallowed
reverence of age forgets itself in disgraceful excesses at
the refreshment-room of railway stations. This is the
ubiquitous pest whicli distils its venom into every sex
and every age! This is the enchanted chalice of the Cathaian
Circe which I ask you to repel to-day from the lips of the
young, the pure, and the virtuous ! "
It was an able and eloquent effort ; but even the Chan-
cellor's powers were all but overtasked in so hard a struggle
against ignorance and prejudice. Unhappily, several of
the members were themselves secretly addicted to that
cup of five o'clock tea to which Don Pedro so feelingly
alluded. In the end, however, by taking advantage of
the temporary absence of three senators, who had gone to
indulge their favourite vice at home, the Bill triumphantly
passed its third reading by an overwhelming majority of
chocolate drinkers, and became forthwith the law of the
Holy Roman Empire.
Meanwhile Don Carlos jMontillado had oi-ossed the stormy
seas in safety, and arrived by special mule at the city of
Andorra. He took up his quarters at the Guatemalan
Embassy, and immediately sent his card to the Empress
and the Chancellor, requesting tlie honour of an early
interview.
THE EMPRESS OF AXDOIillA. 209
Tho Empress at (incu deHpatchod a noto request in j^ Don
Carlos to present himself without dchiy in tlio private
drawing-room of tho Palace. Tho happy lover and am-
bassador flow to her side, and for ludf an liour tho pair
enjoyed the dolici(Mis Paradise of a niutnal attaohment.
At the end of tluit period Don Pedro presented himself at
tho door.
" Your ^lajesty," ho exclaimed in a tone of suriirise,
'* this is a most irregular proceeding. ITis Excellency tho
Guatemalan Ambassador should havo calh'd in tho first
instance upon tho Imporiiil Chancellor."
" Prince," replied tho Empress firmly, " I refuse to give
you audience at present. I am engaged on private busi-
ness — on strirth/ private business — with his Excellency."
" Excuse me," said tho Chancellor blandly, " but I must
assure your Majesty "
" Leave tho room. Prince," said the Empress, with an
impatient gesture. " Leave the room at onc(> ! "
"Leave the room, fellow, when a lady s^pcaks to you.''
cried the impetuous young Guatemalan, drawing his sword,
and pushing Don Pedro bodily out of the door.
The die was cast. The Pubicon was crossed. Don
Pedro determined on a counter-revolution, and waited for
his revenge. Nor had he long to wait.
Half an hour later, as Don Carlos was passing out of the
Palaco on his way homo to dross for dinner, six stout
constables seized him by tho arms, handculTtid him on the
spot, and dragged him off to tho Imperial prison. " At
the suit of liis Excellency tho Chancellor," they said in
explanation, and hurried him awa}' without another word.
The Empress was furious. " How dare you ? " she
shrieked to Don Peilro. " What right liave you to im-
prison him — tho accredited representative of a Foreign
Power?"
" Excuse me," answered Don Pedro, in his smoothest
tone. "Article 39 of the Penal Code enacts that the
•270 STRANGE STORIES.
person of the Chancellor is sacred, and that any individual
who violently assaults him, with arms in hand, may bo
immediately conuuitted to prison without trial, by her
Majesty's command. Article 40 further provides that
Foreign Ambassadors and other privileged persons are not
exempt from the penalties of the previous Article."
" But, sir," cried the angry little Empress (she was too
excited now to remember that Don Pedro was a Princo),
" I never gave any command to have Don Carlos im-
prisoned. Release him at once, I toll you."
" Your ]\In jesty forgets," replied the Chancellor quietly,
*' that by Article 1 of the Constitution the Sovereign reigns
but does not govern. The prerogative is solely exercised
through the Chancellor. L'etnt, c'est moi ! " And ho
struck an attitude.
" So you refuse to let him out ! " said the Empress.
" Mayn't I marry who I like? Mayn't I even settle who
shall bo my own visitors ? "
" Certainly not, your Majesty, if the interests of the
State demand that it should bo otherwise."
"Then Pll resign," shrieked out the poor little Empress,
with a burst of tears. " I'll withdraw. I'll retire. I'll
abdicate."
" By all means," said the Chancellor coolly. " Wo can
easily find another Sovereign quite as good."
The shrewd little cx-actross looked hard into Don
Pedro's face. She was an adept in the art of reading-
emotions, and she saw at once what Don Pedro really
wished. In a moment she had changed front, and stood
up once more every inch an Empress. " No, I won't ! "
she cried ; " I see you would be glad to get rid of me, and
I shall stop hero to baffle and thwart you ; and I shall
marry Carlos; and we shall fight it out to the bitter end."
So saying, she darted out of the room, red-eyed but majestic,
and banged the door after her with a slam as she went.
Ilenccforward it was open war between them. Don
Till: KMPUIu^S OF AXnOItllA. 1>7I
5'cdro (lid not daro to depose thr J'hnprcss, wIk* liad htill
a considerable Lody of partisans aniong-st tlio Anddi'raii
peoplo ; l)utlio resolutely refused to release tlio (Juatemuluii
legate, and decided to accept hostilities -with tlio Central
American liepublic, in order to divert tlio minds of tlio
populace from internal politics. If ho returned homo from
the campaign as a successful commander, lie did not douht
that ho would find himself sufliciently powerful to throw
off the mask, and to assume the Imperial purple in iiaiue
as well as in reality.
Accordingly, before the Guatemalan President could
receive the news of his son's imprisonment, Don rodn)
resolved to prepare for war. Ilis lirst care was to strengthon
the naval resources of his country. The Opposition — that
is to say, the Empress's party — objected that Andorra had
no seaboard. But Don Pedro at once overruled that
objection, by dint of several parallel instances. The
Province of Upper Canada (now Ontario, added the careful
historical student) had no seaboard, yet the Canadians
placed numerous gunboats on tho great lakes during tho
war of ISlli. (What research!) Again, the Nile, tho
Indus, the Ganges, and many other great rivers had been
the scene of important naval engagements as early as i;.c,
1082, which ho could show from tho evidence of papyri
now preserved in the British Museum. (What universal
knowledge !) The objection was frivolous. Ihit, answered
the Opposition, Andorra has neither lakes nor navigable
rivers. This, Don Pedro considered, was men; hair-split-
ting. Perhaps they would tell him next it had no gutters
or water-butts. Besides, wo must accommodate^ ourselves
to the environment. (This, you see, conclusively proves
that tho Chancellor had j'cad Mr. llerl)ert Spencer, and
was thoroughly well up in tho Eiinutiai of tho Evolutionist
Philosophy.) Had they never looked into their Thucy-
dides ? Did they not remember the famous hollcos, or trench,
whereby the Athenian triremes were lifted across tho
272 STUAXGK STOIIJES.
IsthnniH of Corintli ? "Well, ho proposetl in like manner to
order a larjco nniuLcr of ironclads I'roni an eminent (jllasjjrow
firm, to pnll them overland np tlu^ ryrcnoes, and to plant
them on the mountain tops around Amlorra us permanent
hatterioH. That was what ho meant hy adaptation to the
environment.
So the order was j2;iven to the eminent Clasgow firm,
who forthwith supplied the Empire with ten magnificent
Clydo-huilt ironclads, having 14-inch plates, and patent
douWe-security rivets : mounting twelve eighty-ton guns
apiece, and fitted up with all the latest Woolwich improve-
ments. These vessels were then hauled up the mountains,
as Don Pedro proposed ; and there they stood, on the
tallest neighbouring summits, in very little danger of
going to the bottom, as the ironclads of other Powers are
so apt to do. In return, Don Pedro tendered payment by
means of five million pounds Inilated Currency, which ho
assured tho eminent ship-builders were quite as good as
cold, if not a irreat deal better. Tho firm was at first
inclined to demur to this mode of payment ; but Dun
Pedro immediately retorted that they did not seem to
understand tho Currency Questici : and as this is an
imputation which no gentleman could enduro for a
moment, tho eminent ship-builders pocketed tho inflated
paper at once, and pretended to think no more about it.
Ilowever, there was one man among them who rather
mistrusted inflation, because, you see, his education had
been sadly neglected, especially as regards tho works of
American Political Economists, in which Don Pedro was
so deeply versed. Now, this ignorant and misguided man
went straight off to the Stock Exchange with his share of
the five millions, and endeavoured to negotiate a few
hundred thousands for pocket-money. But it turned out
that all the other Stock Exchange magnates were just
as ill-informed as himself with respect to inflation and
the Currency Question at large : and they persisted in
THE EMVllESS OF ANDOUHA. 273
«lec'larlng that a picco of paper is really uono the better
for having the wordt: " This is u Pound " writien across
its face. iSo the eminent ship-buiMer returned homo dis-
consolate, and next day instituted proceedings in Chancery
against tho Holy liuman Empire at Andorra for the
recovery of five million pounds sterling. What camo at
last of this importan*^ suit you shall hear in the sequel.
Meanwhile, poor Don Carlos remained incarcerated in
the Imperial prison, and preparations for war went on with
vigour and activity, both in Andorra and Guatemala.
Naturally, the greatest excitement prevailed throughout
Europe, and especially in tho sympatlictic liepublic of
San Marino. Very diileront views of the situatix)n wero
expressed by the various periodicals of that effusive State.
Tho Matutinal Agitator declared that Andorra under tho
Obrienelli dynasty had become a dangerously aggressivo
Power, and that no peace could be expected in Europe
until the Andorrans had been taught to recognize their
true position in the scale of nations. Tho Vcsjicrtinal
Sentimentalist, on the other hand, looked upon tho Guate-
malans as wanton disturbers of tho public quietude, and
considered Andorra in the favourable light o( an oppressed
nationality. The Jlehdomadal T)anquilli::er, Avliieh treated
both sides with contempt — avowing that it held tho
Andorrans to be little better than lawless brigands, in tho
last stage of bankruptcy; and the Guatemalans to bo
mere drunken half-castes, incapable of attack or defence
for want of men and money — this lukewarm and mean-
spirited journal, I say, was treated with universal con-
tumely as a wretched time-server, devoid of human
sympathies and of proper cosmopolitan expansiveuess.
At length, however, through the good offices of tho San
Marino Government, both Powers were induced to lay
aside the thought of needless bloodshed, and to discuss
the terms of a mutual understanding at a Pan-Hispanic
Congress to bo held in the neutral metropolis of Monaco.
271 STRANGE STORTES.
Invitations to attcnrl tlio Conj^rcss were issued to all
the SpanisU-spcakinji; nations on butli fsiilcs of the Atlantic.
Tliero woro a low triflinj; refusals, it is true, as Spain,
Mexico, and the South American States declined to send
representatives to the proposed meeting : Lut still a goodly
array of pl(;nipotentiaries met to discuss tho terms of
peace. Envoys from Andorra, from Guatemala, and from
tho other Central American It'puhlics — one of whom was
of coursu a Chevalier of tho Exalted Order of the Holy
Koso of Honduras, while another ropvescntod tho latest
Tresidcnt of Nicaran;ua— sat down by tho side of a coloured
niarf|uiH from San JJomingo, and a mulatto general who
presented credentials from the licpuljlic of Cuba— since
unhappily extinct. Thus it will he seen at a glance that
the Congress wanted nothing which could add to its
imposing character, either as an International Parliament
or as an expression of military ran-II'spanic force.
Europe felt instinctively that its deliberations were backed
up by all tho vast terrestrial and naval armaments of its
constituent Powers.
But while Don Pedro was iiulling the M'ires of tho
Monaco convention (by telegraph) from his head-quarters
at Andorra — he could not himself have attended its
meeting, lest his august Sovereign should embrace the
opportunity of releasing tho captive Guatemalan and so
stopping his hopes of future success — he had to contend at
homo, not only with tho covert opposition of the bravo
little Eaipress, but also with the open rebellion of a dis-
affected minority. Tho five wards which constitute East
Andorra had long been at secret variance with the nine
wards of West Andorra ; and they seized upon this moment
of foreign complications to organize a Home Rule party,
and set on foot a movement of secession. After a few
months of mere parliamentary opposition, they broke at
last into overt acts of treason, seized on three of Don
Pedro's ironclads, and proclaimed themselves a separate
TJJE EMITiESS OF ASDOJiRA. 27.)
government under the titlo of tho Confederato Wards uf
Andorra. This last l)h»\v almost broke Don Pedro's
heart. IIo had serious thoughts of giving up all for
lost, and retiring into a. monastery for tho term of his
natural life.
As it Iiappcned, however, tho Chancellor was spared tho
necessity for that final humiliation, and tho Pan-Ilispanic
Congress was relie . ed of its arduous duties hy the sudden
intervention of a hitherto passive Power. Great Britain
Avoke at last to a sense of her own prestige and tho neces-
sities of tho situation. The Court of Chancery decided
that tho Inflated (,'urrency was not legal tender, and
adjudicated the bankrupt state of Andorra to tlio prose-
cuting creditors, the iirm of eminent ship-builders at
Glasgow. A sheriff's oflicer, backed by a company of
British Grenadiers, was desjiatched to tako possession of
tho territory in tho name of tho assignees, and to repel
any attempt at armed resistance.
Politijal considerations had no little weight in tho
decision which led to this imposing military demonstra-
tion. It was felt that if we permitted Guatemala to keep
up a squadron of ironclads in tho Caribbean, a perpetual
menace would overshadow our tenure of Jamaica and
Barbadoes : while if we suffered Andorra to overrun tho
Peninsula, our position at Gibraltar would not be worth a
fortnight's purchase. For these reasons tho above-men-
tioned expeditionary force was detailed for the purpose of
attaching tho insolent Empire, liberating the imprisoned
Guatemalan, and entirely removing tho casus belli. It
Avas hoped that such prompt and vigorous action Avould
deter the Central American States from their extensive
military preparations, which had already reached to
several pounds of powder and over one hundred stand of
Martini-Henry rifles.
Our demonstration was quite as successful as the " little
wars" of Great Britain have always been. Don Pedro
'
27G STRANGE STOJIIES.
made some show of resistance with his eighty-ton gims ;
but finding that the contractors had only supplied thorn
with wooden bores, he deemed it prudent at length to
beat a precipitate retreat. As to the poor little Empress,
she had long learned to regard herself as a cypher in the
realm over which she reifcncd but did not crovcrn ; and
she was therefore perfectly read}'' to abdicate the throne,
and resign the crown jewels to the sheriff's officer. She
did so with the less regret, because the crown was only
aluminium, and the jewels only paste — being, in fact, the
identical articles which she had worn in her theatrical
character as the Grand-Duchess of Gerolstein. The
quondam republic was far from rich, and it had been glad
to purchase these convenient regalia from the property-
man at the theatre on the eventful morning of the Imperial
Coronation.
Don Carlos was immediately liberated by the victorious
troops, and rushed at once into the arms of his inamorata.
The Bishop of Urgel married them as private persons on
the very same afternoon. The ex-Empress returned to the
stage, and made her first reappearance in London, where
the history of her misfortunes, and the sympathy which
the British nation always extends to the conquered,
rapidly secured her an unbounded popularity. Don
Carlos practised with success on the violin, and joined the
orchestra at the same house where his happy little wife
appeared as prima donna. Senor ]Moutillado the elder at
first announced his intention of cutting off his son with a
shilling ; but being shortly after expelled from the Presi-
dency of the Guatemalan Kepublic by one of the triennial
revolutions which periodically diversify life in that
volcanic state, he changed his mind, took the mail
steamer to Southampton, and obtained through his son's
influence a remunerative post as pantaloon at a neighbour-
ing theatre.
The eminent ship-builders took possession of East and
TUE EMPRESS OF ANDOIiRA. 277
West Andorra, (pioUecl the insurrectionary movomont of
the Confederato Wards, and brought back the ten iron-
clads, together with the crown jewels and other public
ijffects. On the whole, they rather gained than lost by
the national bankruptcy, as they let out the conquered
territory to the Andorran people at a neat little ground-
rent of some £20,000 per annum.
Don Pedro fled across the border to Touhiuso, where bo
obtained congenial employment as clerk to an avoue. He
was also promptly elected secretary to the local Academy
of Science and Art, a post for which his varied attain-
ments fit him in the highest degree. lie has given up all
hopes of the resuscitation of the Holy Roman Empire, and
is now engaged to a business-like young woman at the
Cafe do I'Univers, who will effectually cure him of all
lingering love for transcendental politics.
Fi. ally, if any hypercritical person ventures to assert
that this history is based upon a total misconception of
the Holy Ivoman Empire question — that I am completely
mistaken about Francis II., utterly wrong about Otto the
Oreat, and hopelessly fogged about Henry tlie Fowler — I
can only answer, that I take these statements as I find
them in the note-books of Don Tedro, and the printed
debates of the Andorran Folk Mote. Like a veracious
historian, I cannot go beyond my authorities. But I
think you will agree with me, my courteous reader, that
the dogmatic omniscience of these historical critics is
really beginning to surpass human endurance.
THE SENIOR PROCTOR'S WOOIXG :
A TALE OF TWO CONTINENTS.
I.
I WAS positively blinded. I could hardly read the note, a
neatly written little square sheet of paper ; and the words
Keemcd to swim before my eyes. It was in the very thick
of summer term, and I, Cyril Payne, MA., Senior Proctor
of the University of Oxford, was calmly asked to under-
take the sole charge for a week of a wild American girl,
travelling alone, and probably expecting me to run about
with her just as foolishly as I had done at Nice. There
it lay before me, that awful note, in its overwhelming
conciseness, without hope of respite or interference. It
was simply crushing.
" My dear Mr. Payne,
"I am coming to Oxford, as you advised me.
I shall arrive to-morrow by the 10.15 a.m. train, and
mean to stop at the Randolph. I liox^e you will kindly
show mo all the lions.
*' Yours very sincerely,
" Ida Van EiiNssELAER."
It was dated Tuesday, and this was Wednesday morn-
ing. I hadn't opened my letters before seeing last night's
charges at nine o'clock ; and it was now just ten. In a
TUE SENIOR PROCTOR'S WOOING. 270
moment the full terror of the situation flahi ed upon me.
She had started ; she was already almost here ; there was no
possibility of telegraphing to stop her ; before I could da
anything, she .would have arrived, have taken rooms at
the Eandolph, and have come round in her queer American
manner to call upon me. There was not a moment to bo
lost. I must rush down to the station and meet her — in
full academicals, velvet sleeves and all, for a Proctor must
never be seen in the morning in mufti. If there had been
half an hour more, I could have driven .ound by the
Parks and called for my sister Annie, who was married to
the Rev. Theophilus Sheepshanks, Professor of Cojupara-
tive Osteology, and who miglit have helped mo out of tho
scrape. But as things stood, I was comi)elled to burst
down the High just as I was, hail a hansom opposite
Queen's, and drive furiously to the station in bare time to
meet the 10.15 train. At all hazards, Ida Van Ivensselaer
must not go to the Pandolph, and must bo carried oif to
Annie's, whether she would or not. On tho way down 1
had time to arrange my plan of action ; and before I
reached the station, I thought I saw my way dimly out
of the awful scrape which this mad Yankee girl had so
inconsiderately got mo into.
I had met Ida Van Rensselaer the winter before at Nice.
We stopped together at a pension on the Promenade des
Anglais; and as I was away from Oxford — for even a
Proctor must unbend sometimes — and as she was a
pleasant, lively young person with remarkably fine eyes,
travelling by herself, I had taken the trouble to instruct
her in European scenery and European art. She had a
fancy for being original, so I took her to see Eza, and
Roccabruna, and St. Pons, and all the other queer pictur-
esque little places in the Nice district which no American
had ever dreamt of going to see before : and when Ida
went on to Florence, I happened — quite accidentally, of
course — to turn up at the very same pension three days
2S0 STRANGE STORIES.
later, where I gave her further lessons in the art of
admiring the early niediaival masters and the other
treasures of Giotto's city. I was a bit of a collector
myself, and in ray rooms at Magdalen I flatter myself
that I have got tho only one genuine Botticelli in a
private collection in England. In spite of her untamed
American savagery, Ida had a certain taste for these
things, and evidently my lessons gave her the first glimpse
she had ever had of that real interior Europe whoso
culture she had nut previously suspected. It is pleasant
to teach a pretty pupil, and in the impulse of a weak
moment — it was in a gondola at Venice — I even told her
that she should not leavcfor America without having seen
Oxford. Of course I faiicied that «lio would bring a
chaperon. Now she had taken mo at my word, but she
had como alone. I had brought it all upon myself,
undoubtedly ; though how the dickens I was ever to get
out of it I could not imagine.
As I reached the station, the 10.15 was just coming in.
I cast a wild glance right and left, and saw at least a
dozen undergraduates, without cap or gown, loitering on
the platform in obvious disregard of university law. But
I felt far too guilty to proctorizo them, and I was terribly
conscious that all their eyes were fixed upon me, as I
moved up and down the carriages looking for my American
friend. She caught my eye in a moment, peering out of
a second-class window — she had told me that she was not
well oft' — and I tliought I should have sunk in the ground
when she jumped lightly out, seized my hand warmly, and
cried out quite audibly, in her pretty faintly American
voice, " My dear Mr. Payne, I am so glad you've come to
meet me. Will you see after my baggage — no, luggage
3'ou call it in England, don't you ? — and get it sent up to
the Ilandolph, please, at once ? "
AVas over Proctor so tried on this earth? But I
made an effort to smile it off. " My sister is so sorry she
TJJE SENIOR PliOCTOR'S WOOING. 2i>l
could not como to meet you, Miss Van Eensselaor," I said
in my loudest voice, for I saw all those twelve sinister
undergraduates watching afar oiT with eager curiosity ;
" but she has sent me down to carry you oft" in her stead,
and she bogs you won't think of going to the Kiindolph,
but will come and make her house your homo as long as
you stay in Oxford." I flattered myself that the twelve
odious young men, who were now forming a sort of
irregular circle around us, would bo completely crnslied
by that masterly stroke : though what on earth Annie
would say at being saddled witli this Yankee girl for a
week I hardly dared to fancy. For Annie was a Professor's
wife : and the dignitj' of a Professor's wife is almost as
serious a matter as that of a Senior Proctor himself.
Imagine my horror, then, wlien Ida answered, with her
frank smile and sunny voice, " Your hister ! I didn't know
you had a sister. And anyhow, I haven't come to see
your sister, but yourself. And I'd bettor go to the Ran-
dolph straight, I'm sure, because I shall feel more at homo
there. You can come round and see mo whenever you
like, there ; and I mean you to show me all Oxford, now
I've come here, that's certain."
I glanced furtively at the open-eared undergraduates,
and felt that the game was really up. I could never face
them again. I must resign everything, take orders, and
lly to a country rectory. At least, I thought so on the
spur of the moment.
But something must clearly bo done. I couldn't stand
and argue out the case with Ida before those twelve young
fiends, now reinforced by a group of porters ; and I
determined to act strategically — that is to say, tell a white
lie. " You can go to the Kandolph, of course, if you
wish, Miss Van Rensselaer," I said ; " will you come and
show me which is your luggage ? Here, you, sir," to one
of the porters, — a little angrily, I fear, — " come and get
this lady's boxes, will you ? "
282 STEANGE STOIIIES.
In a minute T had secured the boxes-, and wen' out fur
a cab. There was nothing left but a single banson.. De-
moralized as I was, I took it, and put Ida inside. " Drive
to Lechlado Villa, the Parks," I whispered to the cabby —
that was Annie's address— and I jumped in beside my
torturer. As we drove up by the Corn-market, I could
see the porters and scouts of Balliol and John's all looking
eagerly out at the unwonted sight of a Senior Proctor in
full academicals, driving through the streets of Oxford in
a hansom cab, with a lady by his side. xVs for Ida, she
remained happily unconscious, though I blamed her none
the less for it. In her native wilds I knew that such
vagaries were permitted by the rules of society ; but she
ought surely to have known that in Europe they were not
admissible.
" Now, Miss Van Eensselaer," I said as wo turned the
corner of Carfax, " I am taking you to my sister's. Excuso
my frankness if I tell you that, according to English, and
especially to Oxford etiquette, it would never do for you
to go to an hotel. People's sense of decorum would bo
scandalized if they learnt that a lady had come alone to
risit the Senior Proctor, and was stopping at the llandolph.
Don't you sec yourself how very odd it looks ? "
" Well, no," t-aid Ida promptly ; " I think you are a
dreadfully suspicious people : you seem always to credit
everybody with the worst motives. In America, we think
people mean no harm, and don't look after them so sharply
as you do. But I really can't go to your sister's. I don't
know her, and I haven't been invited. Does she know I'm
coming ? "
" Well, I can't say she does," I answered hesitatingly.
" You see, your letter only reached me half an hour ago,
and I had no time to see her before I went to meet you."
" Then I certainly won't go, Mr. Payne, that's certain."
" But my dear Miss Van Rensselaer "
" Not the slightest use, I assure you. I canH go to a
TUE iiENIOR rnOCTOIi'S WOOING. 283
house wliere thoy don't even know I'm coming. Driver,
will you go to the Randolph Hotel, please ? "
1 Bank hack paralyzed and unmanned. This girl was
one too many for me. " Miss A^'an ]\*enssclaer," I cried, in
a last despairing fit, "do j'ou know that as Senior Proctor
of the University I have the power to order you away
from Oxford ; and that if I told them at the Randolph
not to take you in, they wouldn't dare to do it ? "
" Well really, Mr. Payne, I dare say you have some
extraordinary meditwval customs hero, but you can hardly
mean to send mo away again by main force. I shall go to
the liandolph."
And she went. I had to draw up solemnly at the door,
to accompany her to the office, and to see her safely
provided with a couple of rooms before I could get away
hastily to the Ancient House of Convocation, where public
business was being delayed by my absence. As I hurried
through the Schools Quadrangle, I felt like a convicted
malefactor going to face his judges, and self -condemned
by his very face.
That afternoon, as soon as I had gulped down a choking
lunch, I bolted down to the Parks and saw Annie. At iirst
I thought it was a hopeless task to convince her that Ida
Van Rensselaer's conduct was, from an American point of
view, nothing extraordinary. She persisted in declaring
that such goings-on were not respectable, and that I was
bound, as an officer of tho University, to remove the
young woman at once from tho eight-mile radius over
which my jurisdiction extended. I pleaded in vain that
ladies in America always travelled alone, and that nobody
thought anything of it. Annie pertinently remarked
that that would be excellent logic in New York, but that
it was quite un-Aristotolian in Oxford. *' When your
American friends come to Rome," she said coldly — as
though I were in the habit of importing Yankee girls
wholesale—-" they must do as Rome does." But when I
•2S4 STRANGE STORIES.
at last pointed out tliat Ida, as an American citizen, could
appeal to her minister if I attempted to turn her out, and
that wo might ilnd ourselves the centre of an international
quarrel — possibly even a casus hclli — she finally yielded
M'ith a struggle. *' For the sake of respectability," she
said solenmly, " I'll go and call on this girl with you; but
j'emember, Cyril, I shall never undertake to help you out
of such a disgraceful scrape a second time." I sneaked out
into t]ie garden to wait for her, and felt that tlio burden
of a rr>>ctorship was really more than I could endure.
We called duly upon Ida, that very hour, and Ida
certainly behaved herself remarkably well. She was so
charmingly frank and pretty, she apologized so simply to
Annie for her ignorance of English etiquette, and she
was so obviously guileless and innocent-hearted in all her
talk, that even Annie herself — who is, I must confess, a
typical don's wife — was gradually mollified. To my great
surprise, Annie even asked lier to dinner en famille the
.same evening, and suggested that I should make an
arrangement with the Junior Proctor to take my work,
and join the party. I consented, not without serious mis-
givings ; but I felt that if Ida was really going to stop
a week, it would be well to put the best face upon it, and
to show her up in company with Annie as often as possible.
That might just conceivably take the edge off the keen
blade of University scandal.
To cut a long story short, Ida did stop her week, and
I got through it very creditably after all. Annie behaved
like a brick, as soon as the first chill was over ; for though
she is married to a professor of dry bones (Comparative
Osteology sounds very well, but means no more than that,
when you come to think of it), she is a woman at heart in
spite of it all. Ida had the most winning, charming,
confiding manner; and she was so pleased with Oxford,
with the colleges, the libraries, the gardens, the river, the
boats, the mediaeval air, the whole place, that she quite
TUB SENIOR rnOCTOKS WOOISG. 28:»
gained Annie over to Ler side. Nay, my sister even
discovered incidentally that Ida had a little fortune of
her own, amounting to somo £;}0() a year, which, though
it doesn't count for much in America, would ho a neat
littlo sum to a man like myself, in England ; and she
shrewdly ohscrved, in her senssiblo husiness-liko manner,
that it would quite make I'p for the possiblo loss of my
Magdalen fcdlowship. I am not exactly what you call a
marrying man — at least, I know I had never got married
l)efore; bnt as the week wore on, and I continued boating,
flirting, and acting showman to Ida, Annie of course
always assisting for propriety's sake, I began to feci
that the Proctor was being conquered by the man. J
fell most seriously and undoubtedly in love. Ida ad-
mired my rooms, was charmed with the pretty view
from my windoAvs over Magdalen Bridge and the beautiful
gardens, and criticized my r)utticelli with real sympathy.
I was interested in her ; she was so fresh, so real, and so
genuinely delighted with the now world Avhich opened
before her. It was almost her first glimpse of the truo
interior Europe, and she was fascinated with it, as all
better American minds invariably are when they feel the
charm of its contrast with their own hurrying, bustling,
mushroom world. The week passed easily atid pleasantly
enough ; and when it was drawing to an end, I had half
made up my mind to propose to Ida Van IJensselaer.
The day before she was to leave she told us she would
not go out in tho afternoon ; so I determined to stroll
down the river to Iffley by myself in a " tub dingey" — a
small boat with room in it for two, if occasion demands.
AVhen I reached the Iffiey Lock, imagine my horror at
seeing Ida in the middle of the stream, quietly engaged
in paddling herself down the river in a canoe. I ran my
dingey close beside her, drove her remorselessly against
the bank, and handed her out on to tho meadow, before
she could imagine what I was driving at.
liso stuangij sroniics.
"Now, Miss Van lioiisselacr," T said stonily, "this will
never do. i>y herculean eflorts Annio and I have got
over this week -without serious scandal ; and at tbo last
moment you endeavour to wreck our plans hy canoeing
down tho open river by yourself heforo the eyes of tho
whole University. Everybody will talk about the Stnior
I'roctor's visitor having been seen indecorously paddling
about in broad daylight in a boat of her own."
" I didn't know there was any harm in it," said Ida
penitently; for she was beginning to understand the real
seriousness of University etiquette.
" Well," I answered, " it can't bo helped now. You
must get into my boat at once — I'll send one of Salter's
men down to fetch your canoe — and wo must row straight
back to Oxford immediately."
She obeyed mo mechanically, and I began to pull away
for very life. "There's nothing for it now," I said
pensively, "except to propose to you. 1 half meant to
do it before, and now I've (juito made up my mind. Will
you have me ? "
Ida looked at mo without surprise, but with a little
pleasure in her face. " What nonsense! " she said quietly.
"I knew you were going to propose to me this after-
noon, and so I came out alone to keep out of your way.
You haven't had time to make up your mind propeily
yet."
As I looked at her beautiful calm face and lovely eyes
I forgot everything. In a moment, I was over head and
ears in love again, and conscious of nothing else. " Ida,"
I cried, looking at her steadily, " Ida ! "
" Now, please stop," said Ida, before I could get any
further. " I know exactly what you're going to say.
You're going to say, ' Ida, I love you.' Don't desecrate the
verb to love by draggling it more than it has already been
draggled through all the grammars of every European lan-
guage. I've conjugated to love, myself, in English, French,
THE SENIOR rnOCrOirS M'OOISG. 287
fiernifiTi, am! Italian; and you've conjup;at(Hl it in Latin
and Greek, and for auj^ht I know in Anglo-Saxon and
Ooptic and Assyrian as well; so now lot's have done with
it for ever, and conjugate some otlier verb more worthy
the attention of two rational and original human beings.
(Jan't you strike out a lino for yourself y"
"You're <juito mistaken," I answered curtly, for I wasn't
going to be browbeaten in that way ; " I meant to say
nothing of the sort. What I did mean to say — and I'll
trouble you to listen to it attentively — was just this.
You seem to me about as well suited to my abstract
requirements as any other young woman I have ever
met : and if you're inclined to take mo, wo might possibly
arrange an engagement."
" Wliat a funny man you an? !*' she went on innocently.
" You don't propose at all en regie. I've had twelve men
propose to me separately in a boat in America, and you
make up the baker's dozen ; but all the others leaned
forward lackadaisically, dropped the oars when they were
beginning to get sericjus, and looked at mo sentimentally ;
while you go on rowing all the time as if there was
nothing unusual in it."
"Probably," I suggested, "your twelve American
admirers attached mon; importance to the ceremony than
I do. But you haven't answered my question yet "
"Let me ask you one instead," she said, more seriously.
" Do yon think I'm at all the kind of person for a .Senior
Proctor's wife ? You say I suit your abstract requirements,
but one can't get married in the abstract, you know.
Viewed concretely, don't you fancy I'm about the most
nnsuitable helpmate you could possibly light upon?"
" The profound consciousness of that indubitable fact,"
I replied carelessly, " has made me struggle in a hopeless
sort of way against the irresistible impulse to propose to
you ever since I saw you first. But I suppose Senior
Proctors are much the same as other men. They fly like
288 STIIAXGE STORIES.
moths about tho candle, and can't overcome tlio temptation
of singeing their wings."
" If I had any notion of accepting you," said Ida
roflectivc^ly, "I should at least havo the consolation of
knowing tliat you didn't make anytliing by your bargain ;
for ray fifteen hundred dollars would just amount to the
three hundred a year which you would have to give up
with your fellowship."
" Quito so," I answered ; " 1 sec you come of a busiue.ss-
liko nation ; and I, as former bursar of my college, am a
man of business myself. 80 I have no reason for conceal-
ing from you tho fact that I havo a piivato income of
about four hundred a year, besides Univorsity appoint-
ments worth live hundred more, which would not go with
tho fellowship."
" Do you really think me sordid enough to care for such
considerations ? "
*'If I did, I wouldn't have taken the trouble to tell vou
them. I merely mentioned tho facts for their general
interest, and not as bearing on tho (question in hand."
" Well, then, Mr. Payne, you shall have my answer. —
Nor
"Is it final?"
"Is anything human final, except one's twenty-ninth
birthday? I choose it to be final for tho jiresent, and
'the subject then dropped,' as tho papers saj' about
debates in Congress. Let us have done now with tliis
troublesome verb altogether, and conjugate our return to
Oxford instead. See what bunches of fritillaries atcain!
I never saw anything prettier, except the orange-lilies in
New Hampshire. If you like, you may come to America
next season. You would enjoy our woodlands."
" Where shall I find you ?'"
" At Saratoga."
"When?" . .
" Any day from July the iSrst."
Till'] SENIOR riiOCTOIl'S }yi)OlXG. 2Sf)
" Good," I said, after a moment'H reflection. " If I stick
to my fancy for flying into tho candlo, you will seo mo
tlicre. If I cliango my mind, it won't matter much to
cither of us."
So wo paddled back to Oxford, talkinj? all tlio way of
indifferent subjects, of England and our Knpjlisli villages,
and enjoying the peaceful greenness of tho trees and
banks. It was half-past six when wo got to Salter's
barge, and I walked with Ida as far as tho Uandolph.
Then I returned to college, feeling very much like an
undetected shcep-stealer, and had a furtive sort of dinner
served up in my own room. Next morning, I confess it
was with a sigh of relief that Annie and I saw Ida
Van Rensselaer start frofu the station en route for Liver-
pool. It was quite a fortnight before I could face my own
bulldogs unabashed, and I bowed with a wan and guilty
smile upon my face whenever any one of those twelve
underg^ad^lates capped me in the High till the end of
term. I believe they never missed an opportunity of
meeting me if they saw a chance open. I was glad
indeed when long vacation oaaiio to ease mo of my office
and my troubles.
II.
Congress Hall in Saratoga is really ono of tho most
comfortable hotels at which I ever stopped. Of course it
holds a thousand guests, and covers an unknown extent
of area : it measures its passages by tho niilo and its
carpets by the acre. All that goes unsaid, for it is a
big American hotel; but it is also a very pleasant and
luxurious one, even for America. I was not sorry, on tho
second of July, to find myself comfortably quartered (by
u
1
290 STRANGE STOIilES.
elevator) in room No. 547 on the fifth floor, with a gay
look-out on Broadway and tho Columbia Spring. After
ten days of dismal rolling on tho mid-Atlautio, and a
week of hurry and bustlo in Now York, I found it
extremely delightful to sit down at my ease in summer
(quarters, on a broad balcony overlooking the leafy pro-
menade, to sip my iced cobbler liku a prince, and to
watch that strange, new, and wonderfully holiday life
which was unfolding itself before my eyes. Such a
phantasmagoria of brightly-dressed women in light but
costly silks, of lounging young men in tweed suits and
panama hats, of sulkies, carriages, trotting horses, string
bands, ice-creams, effervescing drinks, cool fruits, green
trees, waving bunting, lilac blossoms, roses, and golden
sunshine I had never seen till then, and shall never see
again, I doubt me, until I can pay a second visit to
Saratoga. It was a midsummer saturnalia of strawberries
and acacia flowers, gone mad with excessive mint julep.
"After all," said I to myself, "even if I don't happen
to run up against Ida Van Eensselaer, I shall have taken
as pleasant a holiday as I could easily have found in old
Europe. Everybody is tired of Switzerland and Italj',
so, happy thought, try Saratoga. On the other hand,
if Ida keeps her tryst, I shall have one more shot at
her in the shape of a proposal; and then if she really
means no, I shall be none the worse off than if I had
stayed in England." In which happy-go-lucky and
philosophic frame of mind I sat watching the crowd
in the Broadway after dinner, in utrumque j "»*«/««, readj^
either to marry Ida if she would have me, or to go home*
again in tlie autumn, a joyous bachelor, if she did not
turn up according to her promise. A very cold-blooded
attitude that to assume towards tho tender passion, no
doubt ; but after all, why should a sensible man of
thirty-five think it necessary to go wild for a year or
two like a hobbledehoy, and convert himself into a
THE SENIOR PROCTORS WOOING. 2DI
pevaiiiLnlating statue of melancholy, simply because onr
particular young woman out of the nine hundred million
c'StiiiKiteil to inhabit this insignificant planet has refused
to piint his individual namo upon her visiting cards?
Ida Avould make as good a Mrs. Cyril Payne as any other
girl of my acquaintance — no doubt; indeed, I am inclined
to say, a vast deal a better one ; but there are more
women than fiv(^ in the world, and if you strike an
average I dare say most of them are pretty much alike.
As I sat and looked, I could not help noticing the
extraordinary magnificence of all the toilettes in the pro-
menade. Nowhere in Europe can you behold such a
republican dead level of reckless extravagance. Every
woman was dressed like a piincess, nothing more and
notliing less. I began to wonder how poor little Ida,
with her simple and tasteful travelling gowns, would
feel when she ibund lierself cast in the midst of these
gorgeous silks and these costly satin grenadines. Look,
for example, at that pair now strolling along from Spring
Avenue : a New York exquisite in the very coolest of
American summer suits, and a New York elegante (their
own word, I assure you) in a splendid but graceful grey
silk dress, gold bracelet, diamond ear-rings, and every
other item in her costume of the finest and costliest.
What would Ida do in a crowd of such women as
that ? . . . Why . . . gracious heavens ! . . . can it
be? , . . No, it can't . . . Ye.s, it must. . . . Well, to be
sure, it positively is — Ida herself!
My first impulse.' was to lean over the balcony and call
out to her, as I would have called out to a friend whom
I chanced to see passing in ]\Iagdalen quad. Not an
unnatural impulse either, seeing that (in spite of my own
prevarications to myself) I had after all really come
across the Atlantic on jmrpose to see her. But on second
thoughts it struck me that even Ida miglit jjerhaps find
such a proceeding a trifle unconventional, especially now
that she was habited in such passing splendour. Besides,
•2:-2 SinAXGE STORIES.
wliat did it all mean? Tlio only rational unswer I could
give mj'self, when I fairly sqnarcd the question, was that
Ida must have got suddenly married to a wealthy fellow-
countryman, and that the exquisite in the cool suit was
in fact none other than her newly-acquired husband.
I had thought my philosophy proof against any sucli
small defeats to my calculation : but when it actually
came to the point, I began to perceive that I was
after all very unphilosophically in love with Ida Van
Eonsselacr. Tlio merest undergraduato could not have
felt a sillier flutter tluni that whicli agitated both auricles
and ventricles of my central vascular organ — as a Senior
Proctor I must really draw tlie lino at speaking outright
of my heart. I seized my hat, rushed down the broad
staircase, and walked rapidly along Broadway in tlio
direction tho pair had taken. But I could see nothing
of them, I I returned to Congress Hall in despair.
Tliat night I thought about many things, and slept
very little. It came home to me somewhat vividly that
if Ida was really married I should probably feel more
grieved and disappointed than a good pessimist philo-
sopher ouglit ever to feel at the ordinary vexatiousness
of the universe. Next morning, however, I rose early,
and breakfasted, not without a most unpoetical appetite,
on white fish, buckwheat pancakes, and excellent water-
melon. After breakfast, refreshed by tho meal, I sallied
forth, like a true knight-errant, under the shade of a
white cotton sun-umbrella instead of a shield, to search
for tho lady of my choice. Naturally, I turned my steps
first towards the Springs ; and at the very second of them
all, I luckily camo upon Ida and the man in the tweed
suit, lounging as before, and drinking the waters lazil}'.
Ida stepped up as if she had fully expected to meet me,
extended her daintily- gloved hand with tho gold bracelet,
and said as unconcernedly as possible, " You have come
two days late, Mr. Payne."
THE SEXIOJi rnOCTOKS WOOIXG. 20:5
" So it seems,"' I answered. " C^est monsieur voire
mari ? " And I waved my hand interrogatively towards
the stranger, for I liardly knew how to word the question
in English.
" A Bieu lie ylalse ! " she cried he.'irtily, in an undertone,
and I felt my vascular system once more tlio theatre
of a most nnacademical though more pleasing palpitation.
*' Allow me to introduce you. Mr. rayno of Oxford ; my
cousin, Mr. Jefferson Jfitohcock."
I charitably inferred that Mr. ITitchcock's early
education in modern languages had been unfortunately
neglected, or else his companion's energetic modo of
ilenying her supposed conjugal relation with him could
hardly have appeared flattering to his vanity.
" My cousin has spoken of you to me, sir," said ]\Ir.
Hitchcock solemnly, " I understand that you are one
i)f the most distinguished luminaries of Oxford College,
and I am proud to welcomo you as sucli to our country."
I bowed and laughed — I never feel capable of making
any other reply than a bow and a laugh to the 8tyl«>
of oratory peculiar to American gentlemen — and then
I turned to Ida. She was looking as pretty, as piquante,
and as fresh as ever ; but what her dress could mean was
41 complete puzzle to me. /Vs she stood, diamonds and all,
a jeweller's assistant couldn't have valued her at a penny
less than six hundred pounds. In England such a display
in morning dress would luive boon out of taste ; but in
Saratoga it seemed to be the height of the fashion.
We walked along towards the Grand Union Hotel,
where Ida and her cousin Avere staying, and my astonish-
ment grew upon mo at every step. However, wo had
so much to say to ono another about everything in
general, and Ida was so unaffectedly pleased at my
keeping my engagement, made half in joke, that I found
no time to unravel the mystery. "When we reached the
srreat doorwav, Ida took leave of me for the time, but
294 STRANGL STORIES.
luado mo promise to call for lier ag'uiii early the next
moriiiijg. " Unhappily," slio said, " I liavo to p;o this
afternoon to a most tedious party — a set of r»osttJH
people ; yon know the style : the best Euroj)ean culture,
bottled and corked as imported, and let out again by
driblets -svitli about as mucli spontanecmsness as cliaiii-
pagno the second day. But I must fulfil my social duties
here ; no canoeing on the Isis at Saratoga. However, wo
must see a great deal of you now that yon've come ; so
I expect you to call, and drive me down to the lake at ten
o'clock to-morrow."
" Is that proceeding within the expansive limits of
American proprieties ? " I asked dubiousl}-.
"Sir," said Mr. Hitchcock, answering for her, "this is
a land of freedom, and every lady can go where she
chooses, unmolested by those frivolous bonds of C(jn-
vcntionality which bind the feet of your European women
as closely as the cramped shoes of the Chinese bind the
feet of the celestial females."
Ida smiled at me witli a peculiar smile, waved her hand
graciously, and ran lightly up the stairs. I was left
on the piazza with Mr. Jefferson Hitchcock. His con-
versation scarcely struck mo as in itself enticing, but
I was anxious to find out the meaning of Ida's sudden
accession to wealth, and so I determined to make the best
of liis companionship for half an hour. As a sure high
road to the American bosom and safe recommendation to
the American confidence, I ordered a couple of delectable
summer beverages (Mr. Hitchcock advised an " eye-
opener," which proved worthy of the commendation ho
bestowed upon it) ; and we sat down on the piazza in two
convenient rocking-chairs, under the shade of the elms,
smoking our havanas and sipping our iced drink. After
a little preliminary talk, I struck out upon the subject
of Ida.
"When I met Miss Van Eensselaer at Nice," I said,
THE SENIOR mOCTOR'S WOOING. 29a
*' slio "svas stopping at a very quiet little iiomlon. It is
quite a (lifTerent thing living in a palace like this."
" We arc a republican nation, sir," answered Mr.
Hitchcock, "and we expect to be all treated on the equal
level of a sovereign people. The splendour that you in
J^uropo restrict to princes, we in our country lavish upon
the humblest American citizen. Miss Van Rensselaer's
wealth, however, entitles her to mix in the highest circles
of even your most polished society."
" Indeed ? " I said ; "I had no idea that she was wealthy."
" No, sir, probably not. Miss Van Rensselaer is a woman
of that striking originality only to be met with in our
emancipated country. She has shaken off the trammels
of female servitude, and prefers to travel in all the sim-
plicity of a humble income. She went to Europe, if I
may so speak, incognita, and desired to hide her opulence
from the prying gaze of your aristocraey. She did not
wish your penniless peers to buzz about her fortune. But
she is in reality one of our richest heiresses. The man
who secures that Avoman as a property, sir, will find him-
self in possession of an income worth as much as one
liundrcd thousand dollars."
Twenty thousand sterling a year ! The idea took my
breath away, and reduced me once more to a state of
helpless incapacity. I couldn't talk much more small-talk
to ]\Ir. Hitchcock, so I managed to make some small
excuse and returned listlessly to Congress Hall. There,
over a luncheon of Saddle-Rock oysters (you see I never
allow my feelings to interfere with my appetite), I decided
that I must give up all idea of Ida Van Rensselaer.
I have no abstract objection to an income of £20,000 a
year ; but I could not consent to take it from any woman
or to endure the chance of her supposing that I had been
fortune-hunting. It may be and doubtless is a plebeian
feeling, which, as Mr. Hitchcock justly hinted, is never
shared by the younger sons of our old nobility; but I
296 STRANGE STORIES.
hate the notion of living off somobody else's money, espe-
cially if that somebody were my own wife. So I camo
to the reluctant conclusion that I must give up the idea
for ever ; and as it would not ho iair to stop any longer at
Saratoga under the circumstances, I made up my mind t»»
start for Niagara on the next day but one, after fulfilling
my driving engagement with Ida the following morning.
Punctually at ten o'clock the next day I found myself
in a handsome carriage waiting at the doors of the Grand
Union. Ida came down to meet me splendidly dresseil,
and looked like a queen as she sat by my side. " We will
drive to the lake," she isaid, as she took her seat, " and
you will take me for a row as you did on the Isis at
Oxford." So we whirled along comfortably enough over
the six miles of splendid avenue leading to the lake ; and
then we took our places in one of the canopied bouts
which wait for hire at the little quaj^
I rowed out into the middle of the lake, admiring the
pretty wooded banks and sandstone clifis, talking of
Saratoga and American society, but keeping to my de-
termination in steering clear of all allusions to my Oxford
proposal. Ida was as charming as ever — more provokingly
charming, indeed, than even of old, now that I had
decided she could not be mine. But 1 stood by my reso-
lution like a man. Clearly Ida was surprivsed at my
reticence ; and when I told her that my time in America
being limited, I must start almost at once for Niagara, slie
was obviously astonished. " It is possible to be even too
original," she observed shortly. I turned the boat and
rowed back toward the shore.
As I had nearly reached the bank, Ida jumped up from
her seat, and asked me suddenly to let her pull for a dozen
strokes. I changed places and gave her the oars. To
my sui*prise, she headed the boat around, and pulled once
more for the middle of the lake. When we had reached a
point at some distance from the shore, she dropped the
THE SENIOR PROCTORS WOOISG. 297
oars on tho thole-pins (they use no rowlocks on American
lake or river craft), and looked for a moment full in my
face. Then she taid abruptly : —
"If you are really going to leave for Niagara to-
morrow, Mr. l*uyno, hadn't wo better finish this bit of
business out of hand ? "
*' I was not aware," I answered, " that wo had any
business transactions to settle."
" Why," she said, " I mean this matter of proposing."
I gazed back at her as straight as I dared. " Ida," \
said, with an attempt at firmness, " I don't mean to
propose to you again at all. At least, I didn't mean to
when I started this morning. I think I thuuglit I had
decided not."
" Then why did you come to Saratoga ? " she asked
<iuickly. "You oughtn't to have come if you meant
nothing by it."
" When I left England I did mean something," I an-
swered, " but I learned a fact yesterday which has altered
my intentions." And then I told her about Mr. Hitch-
cock's revelations, and the reflections to which they had
given rise.
Ida listened patiently to all my f^iint arguments, for I
felt my courage quailing under her pretty sympathetic
glance, and then she said decisively, " You arc quite right
and yet quite wrong."
"Explain yourself, Sphinx," I answered, much re-
lieved by her words.
"Why," she said, "you are quite right to hesitate,
quite wrong to decide. I know you don't want my money •
I know you don't like it, even : but I ask you to take mo
in spite of it. Of course that is dreadfully unwomanly
and unconventional, and so forth, but it is what I ought
to do ... . Listen to me, Cyril (may I call you Cyril ?).
I will tell you why I want you to marry me. Before I
went to Europe, I was dissatisfied with all these rich
208 STllANGE STOBIES.
American young men. T hated their wealth, and their
HclfishneKH, and their cheap cynicism, and their trotting
horses, and their nariow views, and their monotonous
tuU-tallv, all cast in a stereotyped American mould, so
that whenever I said A, I knew every one of them would
answer B.
" I wont to Europe and T met your English young men,
with their drawls, and their pigeon-shooting, and their
shaggy ulsters, and their conventional wit, and their
commonplace chalT, and their utter contempt fur women,
as though wo were all a herd of marketable animals from
whom they could jiick and choose whichever pleased them
hest, according to their lordly fancy. I would no more^
give myself up to one of them than I would marry my
cousin, Jeiferson Hitchcock. liut when I met you first
at Nice, I saw you wero a different sort of person. You
could think and act for yourself, and you could appre-
ciate a real living woman who could think and act too.
You taught me what Europe was like. I only know the
outside, you showed me how to get within the husk. You
made me admire Eza, and Roccabrunna, and Iffley Church.
You roused something within me that I never felt before
— a wish to be a different being, a longing for something
more worth living for than diamonds and Saratoga. I
know I am not good enough for you : I don't know enough
or read enough or feel enough ; but I don't want to fall
back and sink to the level of New York society. So I
have a right to ask you to marry me if you will. I don't
want to be a blue ; but I want not to feel myself a social
doll. You know yourself — T see you know it — that I
oughtn't to throw away my chance of making the best of
what nature I may have in me. I am only a beginner.
1 scarcely half understand your world yet. I can't
properly admire your Botticellis and your Pinturiccios, I
know ; but I want to admire, I should like to, and I will
try. I want you to take me, because 1 know you under-
TIII-J SEMOR rJiOCTOR'S ]y(>nL\G. 'ittO
etiiud mo and would Iwlp mo forward instead of lottinjjj
me sink down to the potty interests of this American
desert. You liked mo at Nice, you did more than like me
at Oxford; Lut I wouldn't take you then, thoujj;li [ longed
to say yes, because I wasn't (juito sure whether you really
meant it. I knew you liked mo for myself, not my
money, but I left you to come to Saratoga for two tliinnjs.
I wanted to make sure you were in earnest, not to take
you at a moment of weakness. I said, ' If he really cares
for me, if he thinks I might become worthy of him, ho
will come and look for me ; if not, I must lot the dream
go.' And then I wanted to know what eifect my fortune
would have upon you. Now you know my whole reasons.
Why should my money stand in our way ? AVhy should
wo both make ourselves Tinhappy on account of it? You
would have married me if I was poor : what good reason
have you for rejecting me only because I am rich ? AN'liat-
evcr my money may do for you (and you havo enough of
your own), it will be nothing to what you can do for me.
Will you tell me to go and make myself an animated peg
for hanging jewellery upon, with such a conscious au-
tomaton as Jefferson Hitchcock to keep me company
through life ? "
As she finished, flushed, proud, ashamctl, but every inch
a woman, I caught her hand in mine. The utter mean-
ness and selfishness of my life burst upon me like a thun-
derbolt. " Oh, Ida," I cried, " how terribly you make me
feel my own pettiness and egotism. You are cutting mo
to the heart like a knife. I cannot marry you ; I dare
not marry you ; I must not marry you. I am not worthy
of such a wife as you. IIow had I ever the audacity to
ask you ? My life has been too narrow and egoistic and
self-indulgent to deserve such confidence as yours. I am
not good enough for you. I really dare not accept it."
" No," she said, a little more calmly, " I hope we are just
good enough for one another, and that is why we ought to
800 STRANGE STORIES.
marry. And as for tli(3 Inmdrcd thousand dollars, perhaps
wo miglit manage to be happy in spito of thoin."
Wo had drifted into a littlo hay, under kIk Iter of a high
rocky point. I felt a sudden acct.'HS of insane boldnosH,
and taking botli Ida's hands in mi no, I ventured to kiss
her open forehead. She took the kiss quietly, Ijut witli a
certain queenly sense of lioniage due. " And now,'' she
said, shaking off my hands and smiling arcldy, " let uk
row back toward Saratoga, foi- you know you have to pack
up fur Niagara."
" No," I answered, " I may as w(dl put off my visit to
the Falls till you can accompany me."
" Very M'cU," said Ida quietly, " and then wo shall go
back to England and live near Oxford. I don't want you
to give up the dear old University. I want you to teach
me the way you look at things, and show mo how to look
at them myself. I'm not going to learn any Latin or
Greek or stupid nonsense of that sort ; and I'm not going
to join the Women's Suffrage Association ; but I like your
English culture, and 1 should love to live in its midst."
" So you shall, Ida," I answered ; and you shall teach
me, too, how to bo a little less narrow and self-centred
than we Oxford bachelors are apt to become in our foolish
isolation."
So we expect to spend our honeymoon at Niagara.
THE CHILD OF THE PHALANSTERY.
*' Poor little ihlurf" said mi/ »h'onfj-inindv(l friend compamou-
afcli/. " Just look at her ! Cluhfootcd. What a miscrji to her-
self and others ! In a iccll-organized state of society^ you know,
such poor iccc cripples as that mould be (jnietly put out of their
misery while they were still babies."
" Let mo iliinh" said I, ♦' horn that would work out in actual
practice. Tm not so sure, after all, that we should be allogether
the better or the happier for it."
I.
They sat together in a corner of the beautiful phalanstery
garden, Olive and Clarence, on the marble seat that over-
hung the nio.ssy dell where the streamlet danced and
bickered among its pebbly stickles ; they sat there, hand
in hand, in lovers' guise, and felt their two bosoms beating
and thrilling in some strange, sweet fashion, just like two
foolish unregcnerato young people of the old antisocial
prephalansteric days. Perhaps it was the leaven of their
unenlightened ancestors still leavening by heredity the
whole lump ; perhaps it was the inspiration of the calm
soft August evening and the delicate afterglow of the
setting sun ; perhaps it was the deep heart of man and
woman vibrating still as of yore in human sympathy, and
stirred to its innermost recesses by the unutterable breath
802 STUAXGE STOIITES.
of liuinan emotion. lint at .'iny rate thcro tlicy sat, thu
lu'aiitiful Htroiig man in liis sliapely chiton, and tho dainty
fair girl in licr lon<:j wiiitu roLo Avitli tho dark green em-
iDroidered honlor, h)()king far into tho fatiionileas deptlis
of one another's eyes, in tiilcnco Bweeter and more eloquent
tlian many words. It was Olive's tenth-day holiday from
lier sliaro in the maidens' lionsehold duty of tho community;
and Clarence, by arrangement with his friend (lermain,
liad made exchange from his own decade (which fell on
I'lato) to tliis quiet ^lilton evening, that ho might wander
through tlie park and gardens with his chosen lovo, and
Kpeak his full mind to her now without reserve.
" If (jnly the phalanstery will give its consent, Clarence,"
Olive said at last with a littlo sigl\, releasing her hand
from his, and gathering up tho folds of her stole from the
marble flooring of tho seat; " if only tho jjlialanstery will
give its consent I but 1 have my doubts about it. Is it
([uito right? llavo wo chosen quite wisely? AVill tho
hierareh and the elder brotliers think 1 am strong enough
and fit enough for tho duties of the task? It is no light
matter, we know, to enter into bonds with one another for
tho responsibilities of fatherhood and motherhood, I some-
times feel — forgive me, (Clarence — but I sometimes feel as
if I were allowing my own heart and ray own wishes to
guide me too exclusively in this solemn <iuestion : thinking
too much about you and rao, about ourselves (which is only
an enlarged form of selfishness, after all), and too littlo
about the future good of tho community and — and — "
blushing a little, for women "vvill be women even in a
phalanstery — " and of tho precious lives we may be tho
means of adding to it. You remember, Clarence, what tlie
hierareh said, that wo ought to think least and last of our
own feelings, first and foremost of the progressive evolution
of universal humanity."
" I remember, darling," Clarence answered, leaning over
towards her tenderly ; " I remember well, and in my own
TIIH CUIJsl) i)F THE I'lIALAXSTKIiY. 303
way, so far as a man can (for wo men liaven't tlio moral
carnostncHS of yon womon, I'm afraid, Olive), I try to act
\\\) to it. Btit, doaroHt, I think your foarH aro «;reator tlian
they need l)o : you must rucolloct that humanity ro(iuircs
ior its liiglior (]('vch)pm('nt tenderness, ami truth, an<l love,
and all the soltcr (jualities, as well as strcn;:;th and man-
liness ; and if you aro a trillo Icxs strong than most of our
sisters hero, 3'ou scorn to mo at least (and I really helievo
to tho hierarch and to tho elder Lrothcrs too) to make u}*
for it, and more than makc! np for it, in your sweot and
lovable inner nature. The men of tlio future mustn't all
1)0 east in ono unvarying stereotyped mould ; wo must
have a little of all good typos combined, in order to make
a perfect phaalanstery."
Olivo sighed again. " I don't know," she said pensively.
" I don't feci sure. I liopo 1 am doing right. In my
aspirations every evening I have desired light on this
matter, and have earnestly hoped that I Wiis not being
'misled by my own feelings; for, oh, Clarence, I do lovo
you so dearly, so truly, so absorbingly, that I half fear my
love may bo taking mo unwittingly astray. I try to curb
it; I try to think of it all as the hierarch tells us wo ought
to; but in my own heart I sometimes almost fear that I
may bo lapsing into tho idolatrous lovo of tho old days,
when people married and were given in marriage, and
thought only of tho gratili cation of their own personal
emotions and afl'octions, and nothing of the ultimate good
of humanity. Oh, Clarence, don't hate mo and despise mo
for it ; don't turn upon me and scold me : but I love you,
I lovo you, I lovo you ; oh, I'm afraid I lovo you almost
idolatrously ! "
Clarence lifted her small white hand slowly to his lips,
with that natural air of chivalrous respect which came so
easily to the young men of the phalanstery, and kissed it
twice over fervidly with quiet reverence. " Let us go into
the music-room, Olive dearest," he said as he rose ; " you
804 STRANGE STORIES.
are too sad to-night. You shall play me that sweet piece
of Marian's that you love so much ; and that will quiet
you, darling, from thinking too earnestly about this serious
matter."
II.
Next day, when Clarence had finished his daily spell of
work in the fruit-garden (he was third under- gardener to
the community), he went up to his own study, and wrote
out a little notice in due form to be posted at dinner-time
on the refectory door : " Clarence and Olive ask leave of
the phalanstery to enter with one another into free con-
tract of holy matrimony." His pen trembled a little in
his hand as ho framed that familiar set form of words
(strange that ho had read it so often with so little emotion
and wrote it now with so much : we men are so selfish !) ;
but he fixed it boldly with four small brass nails on the
regulation notice-board, and waited, not without a certain
(juiet confidence, for the final result of the communal
council.
" Aha ! " said the hierarch to himself with a kindly smile,
as he passed into the refectory at dinner-time that da}',
"has it come to that, then? Well, well, I thought as
much; I felt sure it would. A good girl, Olive: a true,
earnest, lovable girl : and she has chosen wisely, too ; for
Clarence is the very man to balance her own character as
man's and wife's should do. "Whether Clarence has done
well in selecting her is another matter. For my own part,
I had rather hoped she would have joined the celibate
sisters, and have taken nurse duty for the sick and the
children. It's her natural function in life, the work she's
best fitted for ; and I should have liked to see her take to
it. But after all, the business of the phalanstery is not
THE CHILD OF THE VIIALAXSTEnY. 805
to decide vicariously iox its individual nicml)crs — not to
thwart their natural harmless inclinations and wishes ; on
the contrary, wo oui^ht to allow every man and girl the
fullest liberty to follow their own personal taste and judg-
ment in every possible matter. Our power of interference
as a comnuinity, I've always felt and said, should only
extend to the prevention of obviously wrong and immoral
acts, such as marriage with a person in ill-health, or of
inferior mental power, or with a distinctly bad or insub-
ordinate tcmi)er. Things of that sort, of course, are as
clearly wicked as idling in work hours or marriage with
a first cousin. Olive's health, however, isn't really bad,
nothing more than a very slight feebleness of constitution,
as constitutions go with us ; and Eustace, who has attended
her medically from her babyhood (what a dear crowing
little thing she used to bo in the nursery, to bo sure), tells
me she's perfectly fitted for the duties of her proposed
situation. Ah well, ah well ; I've no doubt they'll bo
perfectly happy; and the wishes of the whole phalanstery
will go with them, in any case, that's certain."
Everybody knew that whatever the hierarch said or
thought Avas pretty sure to bo approved by the unanimous
voice of the entire community. Not that he was at all a
dictatorial or dogmatic old man ; quite the contrary ; biit
his gentle kindly way had its full weight with the brothers ;
and his intimate acquaintance, through the exercise of his
spiritual functions, with the inmost thoughts and ideas of
every individual member, man or woman, made him a safe
guide in all difficult or delicate questions, as to what the
decision of the council ought to be. So when, on the first
Cosmos, the elder brothers assembled to transact plialan-
steric business, and the hierarch put in Clarence's request
with the simple phrase, "In my opinion, there is no
reasonable objection," the community at onco gave in its
adhesion, and formal notice was posted an hour later on
the refectory door, " The phalanstery approves the propo-
X
30G STnANGE STOniES.
sitiou of Clarence and Olive, and wishes all happiness to
them and to humaiiity from the sacred union they now
contemplate."' " You see, dearest," Clarence said, kissing
her lips for the first time (as unwritten law demanded),
now that the seal of the community had been placed upon
their choice, "you see, there can't be any harm in our
contract, for the elder brothers all approve it."
Olive smiled and sighed from the very bottom of her
full heart, and clung to her lover as the ivy clings to a
strong supporting oak-tree. *' Darling," she murmured in
lii.s ear, " if I have you to comfort me, I shall not bo
afraid, and wo will try our best to work together for the
advancement and the good of divine humanity."
Four decades later, on a bright Cosmos morning in Sep-
tember, those two stood up beside one another before the
altar of humanity, and heard with a thrill the voice of the
hierarch uttering that solemn declaration, " In the name
of the Past, and of the Present, and of the Future, I hereby
admit you, Clarence and Olive, into the holy society of
Fathers and Mothers, of the United Avondalo Thalanstery,
in trust for humanity, whose stewards you are. May you
so use and enhance the good gifts you have received from
your ancestors that you may hand them on, untarnished
and increased, to the bodies and minds of your furthest
descendants." And Clarence and Olive answered humbly
and reverently, " If grace be given us, we will."
III.
Brother Eustace, physiologist to the phalanstery, looked
very grave and sad indeed as he passed from the Mothers'
Room into the Conversazione in search of the hierarch.
" A child is born into the phalanstery," he said gloomily;
TEE CHILD OF THE rUALANSTERY. 307
but his face convej^cd at once a far deeper and more preg-
nant meaning than his mere words conld carry to tlio ear.
The hierarcb rose hastily and glanced into his dark
keen eyes -with an inquiring look. " Not something
amiss?" he said eagerly, with an infinite tenderness in
his fatherly voice. " D<m't tell me that, Eustace. Not
. . . oh, not a child that the phalanstery must not for its
own sake permit to live ! Oh, Eustace, not, I hope,
idiotic ! And I gave my consent too ; I gave my consent
for pretty gentle little Olive's sake ! Heaven grant I was
not too much moved by her prettiness and her delicacy,
for I love her, Eustace, I lovo her like a daughter."
" So wo all love all the children of the phalanstery
(,'yriac, we who are elder brothers," said the physiologist
gravely, half smiling to himself nevertheless at this (j^uaint
oxpression of old-world feeling on the part even of the
very hierarch, whose bounden duty it was to advise and
persuade a higher rule of conduct and thought than such
antique phraseology implied. " No, not idiotic ; not quite
so bad as that, Cj'riac ; not absolutely a hopeless case, but
still, very serious and distressing for all that. The dear
little baby has its feet turned inward. She'll be a cripple
for life, I fear, and no help for it."
Tears rose unchecked into the hierarch's soft grey eyes,
" Its feet turned inward," he muttered sadly, half to him-
self. " Feet turned inward ! Oh, how terrible ! This
will be a frightful blow to Clarence and t(3 Olive. Poor
young things : their first-born, too. Oh, Eustace, what
an awful thought that, with all the care and precaution
we take ^^ Veep all causes of misery away from the pre-
cincts of the plialanstery, such trials as tliis must needs
come upon us l)y the blind workings of the unconscious
Cosmos ! It is terrible, too terrible."
*'And yet it isn't all loss," the physiologist answered
earnestly. " It isn't all loss, Cyriac, heart-rending as the
necessity seems to us. I sometimes think that if we hadn't
308 STRANGE STORIES,
tlieso occasional distressful objects on which to expend our
sympathy and our sorrow, wo in cnir happy little communi-
ties might grow too smug, and coiufortablc, and material,
and earthy. But things like this bring tears into our eyes,
and we are the better for them in the end, depend upon
it, W6 are the better for them. They try our fortitude,
onr devotion to principle, our obedience to tho highest
and tho hardest law. Every time some poor little waif
like this is born into our midst, we feel the strain of old
prephalansteric emotions and fallacies of feeling dragging
ns steadily and cruelly down. Our first impulse is to
pity the poor mother, to pity tho poor child, and in our
mistaken kindness to let an unhappy life go on indefinitely
to its own misery and the prevcntible distress of all around
it. Wo have to make an elFort, a struggle, before tho
higher and more abstract pity conquers the lower and
more concrete one. But in the end we are all the better
for it : and each such struggle and each such victory,
Cyriac, paves the way for that final and truest morality
when wo shall do right instinctively and naturally, with-
out any impulse on any side to do wrong in any way
at all."
"You speak wisely, Eustace," the hierarch answered
with a sad shake of his head, " and I wish I could feel liko
you. I ought to, but I can't. Your functions make yon
able to look more dispassionately upon these things than
I can. I'm afraid there's a great deal of the old Adam
lingering wrongfully in me yet. And I'm still more
afraid there's a great deal of the old Eve lingering even
more strongly in all our mothers. It'll bo a long time, I
doubt me, before they'll ever consent without a sti'uggle
to tho painless extinction of necessarily unhappy and
imperfect lives. A long time : a very long time. Does
Clarence know of this yet? "
" Yes, I have told him. His grief is terrible. You had
better go and console him as best you can."
THE CniLD OF THE rilALAXSTEUY. :^nO
" I will, I will. And poor Olivo ! Poor Olive ! It
wrings my heart to think of her. Of course sho M'on't bo
told of it, if you can help, for the probationary four
decades?"
'• No, not if we can help it : but I don't know how it can
ever bo kept from her. Slie will see Clarence, and Clarence
will certainly tell her."
The hierarch whistled gently to himself. " It's a sad
case," he said ruefully, " a very sad case ; and yet I don't
see how we can po.-^sibly prevent it."
Ho walked slowly and deliberately into the ante-room
where Clarence was seated on a sofa, his head between his
hands, rocking himself to and fro in his mute misery, or
stopping to groan now and then in a faint feeble inarticu-
late fashion. lihoda, one of the elder sisters, held the
unconscious baby sleeping in her arms, and tlie liierarch
took it from her like; a man accustomed to infants, and
looked ruthfuUy at the poor distorted little feet. Yes,
Eustace was evidently quite right. There could be no
hope of ever putting those wee twisted ankles back straight
and firm into their proper place again like other people's.
He sat down beside Clarence on the sofa, and with a
commiseriiting gesture removed the young man's hands
from his pale white face. " My dear, dear friend," he
said softly, " what comfort or consolation can we try
to give you that is not a cruel mockery? None, none,
none. We can only sympathize witli you and (!)live : and
perhaps, after all, the truest sympathy is silence."
Clarence answered nothing for a moment, but buried
his face once more in his hands and burst into tears. The
men of the phalanstery were less careful to conceal their
emotions than we old-time folks in these early centuries.
" Oh, dear hierarch," he said, after a long sob, " it is too
hard a sacrifice, too hard, too terrible. I don't feel it for
the baby's sake : for her 'tis better so : she will be freed
from a life of misery and dependence ; but for my own
310 STIiANGE STORIES.
sake, and oli, abi)VO all, for dear Olivo'.s. It will kill her,
hierarcli ; 1 feel sure it will kill her ! "
The elder brother passod his hand with a troubled
gesture across his forehead, "But what else can we do.
dear riarence ? " ho asked pathetically. "What else can
wo do? AV'ould you have us bring up tho dear child to
lead a lingering life of misfortune, to distress the eyes of
all around her, to feel herself a useless incumbrance in
the midst of so many mutually helpful and serviceable!
and happy people? How keenly she would realize her
own isolation in the joyous busy labouring community of
our phalansteries ! How terribly she would brood over
her own misfortune when surrounded by such a world of
hearty, healthy, sound-limbed, useful persons ! AVould
it not bo a wicked and a cruel act to bring her up to an
old age of unhajopiness and imperfection ? You have been
in Australia, my boy, when we sent you on that plant-
hunting expedition, and you have seen cripples with your
own eyes, no doubt, which I have never done — thank
Heaven ! — 1 who have ncA-er gone beyond the limits of the
most highly civilized Euramerican countries. You have
seen cripples, in those semi-civilized old colonial societies,
which have lagged after us so slowly in the path of pro-
gress ; and would you like your own daughter to grow up
to such a life as that, Clarence? would j'ou like her, I ask
you, to grow up to such a life as that ? "
Clarence clenched his right hand tightly over his left
arm, and answed with a [groan : " No, hierarch ; not even
for Olive's sake could I wish for such an act of irrational
injustice. Y''ou have trained us up to know the good from
the evil, and for no personal gratification of our deepest
emotions, I hope and trust, shall we ever betray your
teaching or dejiart from your principles. I know what it
is : I saw just such a cripple once, at a great town in the
heart of Central Australia — a child of eight years old,
limping along lamely on her heels by her mother's side :
THE CniLB OF THE rilALANSTERY. Hit
a sickening sight : to think of it even now turns the blood
in one's arteries: and I could never -wish Olive's l)alty to
live and grow up to bo a thing like that. But, oh, I wish
to heaven it might have been otherwise : I wish to heaven
this trial might have been spared us both. Oh, hierarch,
dear liierarch, the sacrifice is one that no good man or
woman would wish selfishly to forego ; yet for all that,
our hearts, our hearts are human still ; and though wo
may reason and may act up to our reasoning, the human
feeling in us — relic of the idolatrous days or whatever you
like to call it — it will not choose to be so put down and
stifled : it will out, hierarch, it will out for all that, in real
hot, human tears. Oh, dear, dear kind father and brother,
it will kill Olive : I know it will kill her ! "
" Olive is a good girl," the hierarch answered slowly.
"A good girl, well brought up, and with sound principles.
She will not flinch from doing her duty, I know, (.'larence :
but her emotional nature is a very delicate one, and we
have reason indeed to fear the shock to her nervous svstem.
That she will do right bravely, I don't doubt : the only
danger is lest the effort to do right should cost her too
dear. Whatever can bo done to spare her shall be d(jne,
( 'larence. It is a sad misfortune for the whole phalanstery,
such a child being born to us as this : and we all sympa-
thize with you : we sympathize with you more deeply than
words can say."
The young man only rocked up and down drearily as
before, and murmured to himself, " It will kill her, it .vill
kill her ! My Olive, ray Olive, I know it will kill her."
:!I2 STILIXGE iSTOniES.
IV.
Thoy didn't keep the secret of tlie baby's crippled con-
dition from Olive till the four decades were ctver, nor
anything like it. The moment slio saw Clarence, she
guessed at once with a woman's instinct that something
serious had happened : and she didn't rest till she had found
<mt from him all abjut it. Klioda brought her the poor
wee mite, carefully wrapped after the phalanstoric fashion
in a long strip of lino flannel, and Olive unrcdlcd the piece
until she came at last upon the small crippled feet, that
looked so soft and tender and dainty and waxen in their
very deformity. The young mother leant over the child
a moment in speecldess misery. " Spirit of Humanity,"
she whispered at length feebly, " oh give me strength to
bear this terrible unutterable trial ! It will break my
heart. But I will try to bear it."
There was something so touching in her attempted
ri'sijxnation that llhoda, for the first time in her life, felt
almost tempted to wish she had been born in the old
wicked prophalansterio days, when they would have let
the poor baby grow up to womanhood as a matter of
course, and bear its oAvn burden through life as best it
might. Presently, Olive raised her head again from the
crimson silken pillow. " Clarence," she said, in a
trembling voice, pressing the sleeping baby hard against
her breast, " when will it be ? How long ? Is there no
hope, no chance of respite ? "
" Not for a long time yet, dearest Olive," Clarence
answered t^ rough his tears. "The phalanstery will bo
very gentle and patient with us, we know : and brother
Eustace will do everything that lies in his power, though
he's afraid he can give us very little hope indeed. In any
case, Olive darling, the community waits for four decades
before deciding anything : it waits to see whether there is
any chance for physiological or surgical relief : it decides
TUE CHILD OF TUE I'll ALAN ST ERY. 'JK
nothing hastily or thoughthssly : it waits for every
possible improvemont, lioping against hope till liopo itself
is hopeless. And then, if at the end of the <piartet, as
I fear will be the case — for we must face the worst, darling,
we must face the worst — if at the end of the quartet it
seems clear to brother Eustace, and the three assess(U*
physiologists from the neighbouring phalansteries, that
the dear child would be a cripple for life, we're still
allowed f(jur decades more to prepare ourselves in : four
whole decades more, Olive, to take our leave of the darling
baby. You'll have your baby with you for eighty days-
And we must wean ourselves from her in that time,
<larling. We must try to wean ourselves. ]*ut oh Olive,
oh Rhoda, it's very hard : very, ver}', very hard."
Olive answered not a word, but lay silently weeping
and pressing the baby against her breast, with her largo
brown eyes fixed vacantly upon the fretted woodwork of
the panelled ceiling.
" You mustn't do like that, Olive dear," sister Rhoda
said in a half-frightened voice. " You must cry right
out, and sob, and not restrain yourself, darling, or else
you'll break your heart with silence and repression. Do cry
aloud, there's a dear girl : do cry aloud and relieve yourself.
A good cry would be the best thing on earth for you.
And think, dear, how much happier it will really be for
the sweet baby to sink asleep so peacefully than to live a
long life of conscious inferiority and felt imperfection!
"What a blessing it is to think you were born in a phalan-
«teric land, where the dear child will he happily and
painlessly rid of its poor little unconscious existence,
before it has reached the age when it might begin to know
its own incurable and inevitable misfortune. Oh, Olive,
what a blessing that is, and how thankful we ought all
to be that wo live in a world where the sweet pet will
be saved so much humiliation, and mortification, and
misery 1 "
814 STRANGE STOHIES.
At that moment, Olivo, looking within into hor own
■wicked rebellious heart, was conscious, with a mingled
glow, half shame, half indignation, that so far from
appreciating tho priceless blessings of her own situation,
sho would gladly have changed places then and there with
any barbaric woman of tho old semi-civilized prepha-
lanstoric days. Wo can so littlo appreciate our own
mercies. It was very wrong and anti-cosmic, sho knew :
very wrong, indeed, and tho hierarch would have t(dd her
so at once ; but in her own woman's soul she felt she
would rather be a miserable naked savage in a wattled
hut, like those one saw in old books about Africa before-
the illumination, if only she could keep that one littlo
angel of a crippled baby, than dwell among all the
enlightenment, and knowledge, and art, and perfected
social arrangements of phalanstcric England without her
child — lier dear, helpless, beautiful baby. How truly the
Founder himself had said, "Think you there will be
no more tragedies and dramas in the world when we
have reformed it, nothing but one dreary dead level of
monotonous content ? Ay, indeed, there will ; for that>
fear not ; while tho heart of man remains, there will bo
tragedy enough on earth and to spare for a hundred
poets to take for their saddest epics."
Olive looked up at Rhoda wistfully. " Sister Rhoda,"
she said in a timid tone, " it may bo very wicked — I feel
sure it is — but do you know, I've read somewhere in old
stories of tho unenlightened days that a mother always
loved the most afflicted of her children the best. And I
can understand it now, sister Ehoda ; I can feel it here,"
and she put her hand upon her poor still heart. " If only
I could keep this one dear crippled baby, I could give up
all the world beside — except you, Clarence."
" Oh, hush, darling ! " Khoda cried in an awed voicCf
stooping down half alarmed to kiss her pale forehead.
"You mustn't talk like that, Olive dearest. It's wicked;
THE CHILD OF THE VIIALASHTERY. :^15
its iiiulntiful. I know liow hard it is not to rcpino and
to rebel; but you mustn't, Olive, you mustn't. AVe must
each strive to bear our own burdens (with the help of the
community), and not to put any of them oil' upon a poor,
helpless, crippled littlo baby."
" But our luituies," Clarence said, wipinj; his eyes
dreamily; " our natures are only half attuned as yet t(»
the necessities of the higher social existence. Of course
it's very wroni:^' and very sad, but we can't help feeling it,
sister Khodu, though wo try our hardest, llemember, it's
not so many generations since our fathers would have
reared the child without a thouglit that they were doing
anything wicked — nay, rather, would even have held (so
powerful is custom) that it was positively wrong to save
it by preventive means from a certain lite of predestined
misery. Our conscience in this matter isn't yet fully
formed. We feel that it's right, of course ; oh yes, we
know the phalanstery has ordered everything for the
best; but wo can't help grieving over it; the human
heart within us is too unregonerato still to acquiesco
without a struggle in the dictates of right and reason."
Olive again said nothing, but fixed her eyes silently
upon the grave, earnest portrait of the Founder over tho
carved oak mantelpiece, and let the hot tears stream their
own way over her cold, white, pallid, bloodless cheek
without reproof for many minutes. Her heart was too
full for either speech or comfort.
310 .^TliASaL' ,'<TOIUi:S,
V.
Eight (lec.'ulcs passed away slowly in tho Avondalo
I'halaiiHtcry ; and day alter day sccnit'd more and more
terrible to poor, weak, disconst»lato Olive. Tlio quiet
refinement and delicate surronndinr^s of their placid life
seemed to make hei- poignant misery and long anxious
term of waiting only the more intense in its s(jrrow and
its awesomcness. Every day, tlio younger sisters turned
as of old to tlu'ir allotted round of pleasant housework;
every day the elder sisters, wlio had earned their leisure,
brought in their dainty embroidery, or their drawing
materials, or their other occupations, and tried to console
her, or rather to condole with her, in her groat sorrow.
She couldn't complain of any iinkindness ; on tho contrary,
all tho brothers and sisters were sympathy itself; while
Clarence, though he tried hard not to bo too idolatrous to
her (which is wrong and antisocial, of course), was still
overflowing with tenderness and consideration for her
in their common grief. But all that seemed merely to
make things worse. If only somebody would have been
cruel to her ; if only the hierarch would have scolded
her, or the older sisters have shown any distant coldness,
GY the other girls have been wanting in sisterly sym-
pathy, she might have got angry or brooded over her
wrongs; whereas, now, she could do nothing save cry
passively with a vain attempt at resignation. It was
nobody's fault; there was nobody to be angry with,
there was nothing to blamo except the great impersonal
laws and circumstances of the Cosmos, which it would be
rank impiety and wickedness to question or to gainsay,
So she endured in silence, loving only to sit with
Clarence's hand in hers, and tho dear doomed baby lying
peacefully upon the stole in her lap. It was inevitable
and there was no use rejiining ; for so profoundly had the
rni: cniLU of tiii: rnMAxsTiciiY. v.n
phal.'iiistory Kcliooletl tho minds jinil natures of Ihuse two
unli!i[)i)y yonii*; ]KirentH (and all tlicir compeers), that,
grieve as they might, they never for one moment dreamt
of attenqjting to rohix or set aside thi> fundamental
l)rincii)les of pliahinstLM'ic soeiety in these matters.
By tlio kindly rule of thu ])halansti'ry, every mother
had comi)luto freedom from hoiiselinM duties fur two
j'ears after tho birth of her ehild ; and (.'larence, thougli
ho would not willingly have given up his own par-
ticular work in the grounds and garden, spunt all tho
time ho could spare from his short daily task (every
one worlvL'd live hours every lawful day, and few worked
longer, save on special emergencies) hy Olive's side. At
last, tho eight decades passed slowly away, and the fatal
day for the removal of little lio.sehud arrived. Olivo
called her liosebud because, she said, she was a sweet bud
that could never be opened into a full-bhjwn r(xse. All
tho community felt the solemnity of the painful occasion ;
and by common consent tho day (Darwin, December 20)
was held as an intra-phalansteric fast by the whole body
of brothers and sisters.
On that terrible morning Olive rose carlv, and dressed
herself carefully in a long white stole with a broad black
border of Greek key pattern. l>ut she had not the heart
to put any black upon dear little Rosebud ; and so she put
on her fine flannel wrapper, and decorated it instead with
the pretty coloured things that Veronica and I'liilomela
had worked for her, to make her baby as beautiful as
possible on this its last day in a world of happiness. Tho
other girls helped her and tried to sustain her, crying all
together at tho sad event. " She's a sweet little thing,"
they said to ono another as they held her up to see how
she looked. " If only it could have been her reception
to-day instead of her removal ! " But Olive moved
through them all with stoical resignation — dry-eyed and
parched in the throat, yet saying not a word save for
318 STRANGE STOniES.
necessary instructions and directions to the nursing
sisters. The iron of licr creed had entered into her very
soul.
After breakfast, brother Eustace and the hierarch caino
sadly in their official robes into the lesser ii.-firmary. Olive
was there already, pale and trembling, with little llosebud
sleeping peacefully in the hollow of her lap. What a
picture she looked, the wee dear thing, with the hothouse
flowers from tlie conservatory that Clarence had brought
to adorn her, fastened neatly on to her fine flannel robe !
The physiologist took out a little phial from his pocket,
and began to open a sort of inhaler of white muslin. At
the same moment, the grave, kind old hierarch stretched
»jut his hands to take the sleeping baby from its mother's
arms. Olive shrank back in terror, and clasped the child
softly to her heart. " No, no, let mo hold her myself,
dear hierarch," she said, without flinching. " Grant me
this one last favour. Let me hold her myself." It was
contrary to all fixed ruh^s ; but neither the hierarch nor
any one else there present had the heart to refuse that
beseeching voice on so supremo and spirit-rending an
occasion.
Brother Eustace poured the chloroform solemnly and
(juiotly on to the muslin inhaler. " By resolution of the
phalanstery," he said, in a voice husky with emotion, *' I
release you, Eosebud, from a life for which you are
naturally unfitted. In pity for your hard fate, we save
you from the misfortune you have never known, and will
never now experience." As he spoke, he held the inhaler
to the baby's face, and watched its breathing grow fainter
and fainter, till at last, after a few minutes, it faded
gradually and entirely away. The little one had slept
from life into death, painlessly and haj)pily, even as they
looked.
Clarence, tearful but silent, felt the baby's pulse for a
moment, and then, with a burst of tears, shook his head
Tiuj CHILD OF Tin: pualaxstery. :ii9
bitterly. " It is all over," he cried with a loiitl cry. " It
is all over ; and we hope and trust it is better so."
But Olive still said nothing.
The physiologist turned to her witli an anxious gaze.
Her cj'es were open, but they looked blank and staring
into vacant space. lie took her hand, and it felt lirn])
and powerless. '* Great heaven," he criud, in cvidi-nt
alarm, " what is this ? Olive, Olive, our dear Olive, why
don't you speak ? "
Clarence sprang up from the ground, where ho had
knelt to try the dead baby's pulse, and took her unresist-
ing wrist anxiously in his. " Oh, brotlier Eustace," he
cried passionately, " help us, save us ; what's the matter
with Olive? she's fainting, she's fainting! I can't feel
her heart beat, no, not ever so little." '
Brother Eustace let the pale white hand drop listlessly
from his grasp upon tlic pale white stole beneath, and
answered slowly and distinctly : " She isn't fainting,
Clarence ; not fainting, my dear brotlier. The shock and
the fumes of chloroform together have been too much for
the action of the heart. She's dead too, Clarence ; our
dear, dear sister ; she's dead too."
Clarence flung his arms wildly round Olive's neck, and
listened eagerly with his oar against her bosom to hear
her heart beat. But no sound came from the folds of the
simple blaek-bordered stole; no sound from anywhere
."^ave the suppressed sobs of the frightened women who
huddled closely together in the corner, and gazed horror-
stricken upon the two warm fresh corpses.
"She was a brave girl," brother Eustace said at last,
wiping his eyes and composing her hands reverently.
'• Olive was a brav(^ girl, and she died doing her duty,
without one murmur against the sad necessity that fate
had unhappily placed upon her. No sister on earth
could wish to die more nobly than by thus sacrificing her
own life and her own weak human affections on the altar
320 STRANGE STORIES.
of liumainty for tlio sake of hor cliild and of the world at
large."
" .\nd yet, I sometimes almost fancy," the hicrarch
nmrmurcd Avith a Anoleiit effort to control his emotions,
" when I see a scene like this, that even the unenlightened
])racticcs of the old era may not have been quite so had as
we usually think them, for all that. Surely an end such
as Olive's is a sad and a terrible end to have forced upon
us as the final outcome and natural close of all our
modern phalansteric civilization."
" The ways of the Cosmos are wonderful," said brother
Eustace solemnly; "and we, who are no more than atoms
and mites upon the surface of its meanest satellite, cannot
hope so to order all things after our own fashion that all
its minutest turns and chances may approve themselves
to us as light in our own eyes."
The sisters all made instinctively the reverential genu-
flexion. " The Cosmos is infinite," they said together,
in the fixed formula of their cherished religion. " The
Cosmos is infinite, and man is but a parasite upon the
face of the least among its satellite members. May we so
act as to further all that is best within us, and to fulfil
our own small place in the system of the Cosmos with all
becoming revenmcc and humility ! In the name of
universal Humanity. So be it."
OUR SCIEXTIFIC OBSKRVATIONS
ON A GHOST.
" Then nothing would convince you of the existence of
ghosts, Harry," I said, "except seeing one."'
"Not even seeing one, my dear Jim," said llarrj'.
"Nothing on earth would make nie Lelievo in tliem,
unless I were turned into a ghost myself."
So saying, Harry drained his glass of whisky toddy,
shook out the last ashes from his pipe, and went off
upstairs to bed. I. sat for a while over the remnants of
my cigar, and ruminated upon the subject of our conver-
sation. For my own part, I was as little inclined to
believe in ghosts as anybody ; but Harry seemed to go
one degree beyond me in scepticism. His argument
amounted in brief to this, — that a ghost was by definition
the spirit of a dead man in a visible form here on earth;
but however strr.nge might be the apparition which a
ghost-seer thought he had observed, there was no evidence
possible or actual to connect such apparition with any
dead person whatsoever. It might resemble the deceased
in face and figure, but so, said Harry, does a portrait. It
might resemble him in voice and manner, but so dues an
actor or a mimic. It might resemble him in every possible
particular, but even then we should only be justified in.
saying that it formed a close counterpart of the person in
(luestion, not that it was his ghost or spirit. In short,
Y
322 STRANGE STOIilES.
Harry maintained, with considerable sliow of reason, that
nobody coiihl ever have any scientific ground for identifying
any external object, whether shadowy or material, with a
j)ast human existence of any sort. According to him,
a man might conceivably see a phantom, but could not
possibly know that he saw a ghost.
Harry and I were two Oxford bachelors, studying at
the time for our degree in Medicine, and with an ardent
love for the scientific side of our future profession.
Indeed, wc took a greater interest in comparative physio-
logy and anatomy than in physic projjcr; and at this
particular moment wo were stopping in a very comfort-
able farm-house on the coast of Flintshire for our long
vacation, with the special object of observing histologically
a peculiar sea-sido organism, the Thingumbobbum What-
umaycallianum, which is found so plentifully on the
shores of North Wales, and which has been identified by
Professor llaeckel with the larva of that famous marine
ascidian from whom the Professor himself and the re-
mainder of humanity generally are supposed to be
undoubtedly descended. We had brought with us a full
complement of lancets and scalpels, chemicals and test-
tubes, galvanic batteries and thermo-electric piles ; and
we were splendidly equipped for a thorough-going
scientific campaign of the first water. The farm-house in
which we lodged had formerly belonged to the county
family of the Egertons ; and though an Elizabethan
manor replaced the ancient defensive building which had
been wisely dismantled by Henry VIII., the modern farm-
house into which it had finally degenerated still bore the
name of Egerton Castle. The whole house had a reputa-
tion in the neighbourhood for being haunted by the ghost
of one Algernon Egerton, Avho was beheaded under
James II. for his participation, or rather his intention
to participate, in Monmouth's rebellion. A wretched
portrait of the hapless Protestant hero hung upon the wall
OUR SCIENTIFIC OBSERVATIONS ON A GUOST. 32:5
of our joint sitting-room, liaving been left behind when
the family moved to their new seat in Cheshii-e, as being
unworthy of a place in the present baronet's splendid
apartments. It was a few remarks upon the subject of
Algernon's ghost which had introduced the question of
ghosts in general ; and after Harry had left the room, I
sat for a while slowly finishing my cigar, and contem-
plating the battered features of the deceased gentleman.
As I did so, I was somewhat startled to hear a voice at
my side observe in a bland and graceful tone, not uimiixed
with aristocratic hauteur, " You have been speaking of me,
I believe, — in fact, I have unavoidably overheard youi-
conversation, — and I have decided to assume the visible
form and make a few remarlcs upon what seems to me a
very hasty decision on your friend's part."
I turned round at once, and saw, in the easy-chair which
Harry had just vacated, a shadowy shape, which grew
clearer and clearer the longer I looked at it. It was that
of a man of forty, fashionably dressed in the costume of
the year 1G85 or thereabouts, and bearing a close resem-
blance to the faded portait on the wall just opposite.
But the striking point about the object was this, that
it evidently did not consist of any ordinary material
substance, as its outline seemed vague and wavy, like
that of a photograph where the sitter has moved ; while
all the objects behind it, such as the back of the chair
and the clock in the corner, showed through the filmly
head and body, in the very manner which painters have
always adopted in representing a ghost. I saw at onco
that whatever else the object before might be, it certainly
formed a fine specimen of the orthodox and old-fashioned
apparition. In dress, appearance, and every other par-
ticular, it distinctly answered to what the unscientific
mind would unhesitatingly have called the ghost of
Algernon Egerton.
Here was a piece of extraordinary luck ! In a house
:>-2l STRANGE STORIES.
with two trained observers, Kupplicd with every instrument
t)t" modern experimental rescurcli, we had lighted upon an
nndouLtod Hpecimcn of the common spectre, which had so
lon,i^- eluded the scientific grasp. I was heside myself witli
deliglit. "Keally, sir," I said, cheerfully, "it is most
kind of you to pay us this visit, and I'm sure my friend
will he only too happy to hear your remarks. Of course
j'ou will permit me to call him?"
The apparition ap})earod somewhat surprised at the
philosophic manner in which I received his advances;
for ghosts arc accustomed to find people faint away or
scream with terror at their first appearance; but for my
own part: I regarded him merely in the light of a very
interesting phenomenon, which required immediate obser-
vation by two independent witnesses. However, he
smothered his chagrin — for I believe he was really dis-
appointed at my cool deportment — and answered that he
would bo very glad to see my friend if I wislied it, thougli
he had specially intended this visit for myself alone.
I ran upstairs hastily and found Harry in his dressing-
gown, on the point of removing his nether garments,
'•Harry," I cried breathlessly, "you must come down-
stairs at once. Algernon l']gerton's ghost wants to speal<
to you."
Harry held up the candle and looked in my face with
great deliberation. "Jim, my boy," he said quietly,
"you've been having too much whisky."
" Not a bit of it," I answered, angrily. " Come down-
stairs and see. I swear to you joositively that a Thing,
tlie very counterpart of Algernon Eger ton's picture, is
sitting in your easy-chair downstairs, anxious to convert
vou to a belief in ghosts."
It took about three minutes to induce Harry to leave
liis room ; but at last, merely to satisfy himself that I was
demented, he gave way and accompanied mo into the
sittiug-roora. I was half afraid that the spectre would
Orn SCIENTIFIC OBSERVATIONS ON A GHOST. r.-J.")
have taken •mubraf^o at my loiioj delay, and gone ofl' in a
liiifT and a blue liame ; but whvn wo roaclied the room,
there he was , in propria persona, gazing at his own
])ortrait — or slionld I rather say his countiTpart? — on the
wall, with the utmost composure.
" Well, Harry," I said, " what do you call that ? "
Harry put up his eyeglass, peered suspiciously at the
phantom, and answered in a mollified tone, " It certainly
is a most interesting phenomenon. It looks like a ease of
lluorescenee ; but you say the object can talk?"
" Decidedly," I answered, " it can talk as well as you or
me. Allow me to introduce you to one another, gentle-
men : — Mr. Henry Stevens, I\Ir. Algernon Egerton ; for
though you didn't mention your name, Mr. Egerton, 1
presume from what you saitl that I am I'ight in my
conjecture."
"Quito right," replied the phantom, rising as it spoke,
and making a low bow to Hariy from the waist upward.
*' I suppose your friend is one of the Lincolnshire
Steven ses, sir?"
"Upon my soul," said Harry, "I haven't the faintest
conception where my family came from. My grandfather,
who made what little money we have got, was a cotton-
spinner at liochdale, but he might have come from heaven
knows where. I only know he was a very honest old
gentleman, and he remembered me handsomely in his
will."
" Indeed, sir," said the apparition coldly. " My family
were the Egertons of Egerton Castle, in the county of
Flint, Armigeri ; whose ancesti)r, Iiadulphus de Egerton,
is mentioned in Domesday as one of the esquires of Hugh
Lupus, Earl Palatine of Chester. IJadulpluis de Egerton
had a son "
" Whose history," suid Harry, anxious to cut short these
«renealosj;ical details, " I have read in the Annals of
Elintshire, which lies in the next room, with the name
320 STRANGE STOIllES.
you give as yours on the fly-leaf. But it seems, sir, yoit
are anxious to converse with me on the subject of ghosts.
As that question interests us all at present, much nioro
than family descent, will you kindly begin by telling us
whether you yourself lay claim to be a ghost? "
" T^'ndoubtedly I do," replied the phantom.
" The ghost of Algernon Egerton, formerly of Egerton
Castle ? " 1 interposed.
" Formerly and now," said the phantom, in correction.
" I have long inhabited, and I still habitually inhabit, by
night at least, the room in which wu are at present
seated."
" The deuce you do," said ITarry warmly. " This is a
most illegal and unconstitutional proceeding. The house
belongs to our landlord, Mr. Hay : and my friend hero
and mj^self have hired it for the summer, sharing the
expenses, and claiming the sole title to the use of the
rooms." (ITarry omitted to mention that he took the best
bedroom himself and put me off with a shabby little
closet, while wo divided the rent on equal terms.)
" True," said the spectre good-humouredly ; " but you
can't eject a ghost, you know. You may get a writ of
habeas corjms, but the English law doesn't supply you with
a writ of Jiaheas nnlmam. The infamous Jeffreys left me
that at least. I am sure the enlightened nineteentli
century wouldn't seek to deprive me of it."
" Well," said Harry, relenting, " provided yon don't
interfere with the experiments, or make away with the?
tea and sugar, I'm sure I have no objection. But if you
are anxious to prove to us the existence of ghosts, perhaps
you Avill kindly allow us to make a few simple observa-
tions ? "
" With all the pleasure in death," ansAvered the appari-
tion courteously. " Such, in fact, is the very object for
which I've assumed visibility."
*' In that case, Harry," I said, " the correct thing will be
OUR SCIESTIFIC OBSKRVATIOXS ON A GHOST. 027
to get out some paper, aiul draw up a runniiif^ report which
wo may both attest afterwards, A few simple notes on
the chemical and jihysical properties of a spectre will bo
an interesting novelty for the lioyal Society, and they
ought all to be jotted down in black and white at once."
This course having been unanimously determined upon
as strictly regular, I laid a largo folio of foolscap on tho
writing-table, and tho apparition proceeded to put itself
in an attitude for careful inspection.
" Tiio first point to decide," said I, " is obviously tho
physical properties of our visitor. Mr. Egerton, will you
kindly allow us to feel your hand?"
" You may try to feel it if you like," said tho phantom
quietly, " but I doubt if you will succeed to any brilliant
extent." As ho spoke, he held out his arm. Harry and I
endeavoured successively to grasp it : our lingers slipped
through the faintly luminous object as though it wore air
or shadow. Tho phantom bowed forward his head ; wo
attempted to touch it, but our hands onco more passed
unopposed across tho wholo face and shoulders, without
linding any trace whatsoever of mechanical resistance.
"Experience tho first," said Harry; "the apparition has
no tangible material substratum." I seized tho pen and
jotted down the words as he spoke them. This was really
turning out a very full-blown specimen of tho ordinary
ghost !
" Tho next question to settle," I said, " is that of
gravity. — Harry, givo me a hand out here with tho
weighing-machine. — Mr. Egerton, will you bo good enough
to step upon this board ? "
Mlrahile dictu ! The board remained steady as ever.
Not a tremor of tho steelyard betrayed tho weight of its
shadowy occupant. " Experience the second," cried Harry,
in his cool, scientific way : " the apparition has tho specific
gravity of atmospheric air." I jotted down this note also,
and quietly prepared for the next observation.
328 STRANGE STOEIL'S.
" Wouldn't it bo well," I inquired of Harry, " to try tho
weight in vacuo? It is possible that, while tlio spocific
gravity in air is equal to tliat of tho atniospliere, tho
specific gravity in vacuo may ho zero. Tho api)arition —
pray excuse mo, Mr, Egerton, if tho terms in which I
allude to you seem disrespectful, but to call you a ghost
would be to prejudge tho point at issue — the apparition
may have no proper weight of its own at all."
" It would be very inconvenient, though," said Harry,
*' to put tlie wliolo a[)pariti()n under a bell-glass : in fact,
wo have none big enough. I)L'sides, suppose wo were to
find that by exhausting the air we got rid of the object
altogether, as is very possible, that would awkwardly
interfere with the future prosecution of our researches into
its nature; and properties."
"Permit me to niako a suggestion," interposed, tho
phantom, "if a person whom you choose to relegate to the
neuter gender may 1)0 allowed to have a voice in so scien-
tific a question. My friend, tho ingenious Mr. Boyle, has
lately explained to me tho construction of his air-pump,
which we saw at ono of the Friday evenings at tho Koyal
Institution. It seems to me that your object would be
attained if I were to put one hand only on tho scale under
the bell-glass, and j^ermit the air to be exhausted."
" Capital," said Harry : and we got the air-pump in
readiness accordingly. The spectre then put his right
hand into tho scale, and. wo plumped the bell-glass on top
of it. Tho connecting portion of tlio arm shone through,
the severing glass, exactly as though tho spectre consisted
merely of an immaterial light. In a few minutes the air
was exhausted, and the scales remained evenly balanced
as before.
" This experiment," said Harry judicially, " slightly
modifies the opinion which we formed from tho preceding
one. Tho specific gravity evidently amounts in itself to
nothing, being as air in air, and as vacuum in vacuo. Jot
down the result, Jim, will you ? "
on: aClENTIFIG ODSniVATlOSS ON A GUOST. :i2t)
I did so faithfully, and then tnrninf; to tlio spcctro I
observed, " You mentioned a Mr. Boyle, .sir, just now.
You allude, I 8np])o.so, to the father of eheini«try ? "
" And uncle of the Earl of Oorlc," replied the appariiion,
prouiptly filling' up the well-known (piotation. " Exaetlv
«o. I knew Mr. l>oylo nli^c^-litly duiin<i; our lil'efinic, and
I have known him intimately ever «inco ho joined the
majority."
*' May I ask, Avhilo my friend makes tho necessary
preparations for the spectrum analysis and tho chomical
investig-ation, whether you are in the hahit of assoeiatinj^
much with — or — well, with other gliosts?"
" Oh yes, I see a good deal of suciety."
" Contemporaries of your own, or persons of earlier and
later dates?"
"Dates really matter very little to us. Wo may havo
Socrates and Bacon chattinj"; iu the same group. For my
own part, I prefer modern society — I may say, the society
of tho latest arrivals."
" That's exactly why I asked," said 1. " Tho exces-
sively modern tono of your language and idioms struck
me, so to speak, as a sort of anaehroni.sm with your
Eestoration costume — an anachronism which I fancy I
have noticed in many printed accounts of gentlemen from
your portion of tho universe."
"Your observation is quite true," replied the apparition.
" We continue always to wear tho clothes which were in
fashion at the time of our decease; but we pick up from
new-comers the latest additions to the English language,
and even, I may say, to tho slang dictionary. I. know
many ghosts who talk familiarly of ' awfully jolly liops,'
and allude to their progenitors as ' the governor.' Indeed,
it is considered quite behind the times 'to describe a lady
as ' vastly pretty,' and poor Mr. Pepys, who still preserves
the antiquated idiom of his diary, is looked upon among;
us as a dreadfully slow old fogey."
"But why, then," said I, "do you wear your old
880 STItANGE STOlilES.
costumes for over? Why not imitato tho latest fashioni+
from Poole's and Worth's, as well as the latest cant phraso
from the popular novels? "
" Why, my dear sir," answered tho phantom, " wo must,
have Homcihiiig to mark our original period. Besides, most
people to whom we appear know something about costume,
■while very few know anything about changes in idiom,"
• — that I must say seemed to me, in passing, a ])0werful
argument indeed — " and so wo all preserve tho dress which
wo hahitually wore during our lifetime."
" Then," said Harry irreverently, looking up from Iiis
chemicals, " tho society in your part of tho country must
closely resemble a fancy-dress ball."
" Without the tinsel and vulgarity, wo flatter ourselves,**
answered the phantom.
By this time the preparations were complete, and Harry
inquired whether the apj^arition would object to our putting
out tho lights in order to obtain definite results with tho
spectroscope. Our visitor politely replied that he was
better accustomed to darkness than to tho painful glare of
our paraffin candles. " In fact," ho added, " only tho
strong desire which I felt to convince you of our existence
as ghosts euuld have induced mo to present myself in so
bright a room. Light is very trying to tho eyes of spirits,
and wo generally take our constitutionals between eleven
at night and four in the morning, stopping at homo
entirely during tho moonlit half of tho month."
*' Ah, yes," said Harry, extinguishing the candles ; " I'vo
read, of course, that your authorities exactly reverse our
own Oxford rules. You aro all gated, I believe, from
dawn to sunset, instead of from sunset to dawn, and have
to run away helter-skelter at the first streaks of daylight,
for fear of being too late for admission without a fine of
twopence. But you will allow that your usual habit of
showing yourselves only in the very darkest places and
seasons naturally militates somewhat against the credi-
bility of your existence. If all apparitions would only
OUIi SCIESTIFIC onSEIlVATIONS ON A GiroST. H.ll
follow your RonsiMo exiimplo l)y comiiii; out before two
scicntiric people in a well-iiiijhtod room, they •wonlil stand
a much bettor chance of ^-ettinj; believeil : though even in
the present case I must allow that I ishould have folt far
more confidence in your positive reality if you'd presented
yourself in broad daylight, when Jim and \ hadn't punished
the whisky (piito as ftilly as we've done this evening."
When the candles were out, our appariti(jn still retained
its fluorescent, luminous appearance, and scciikmI to burn
with a faint bluish light of its own. We projected a peiicil
through tho si^cctroscope, and obtained, for the first time
in tho history of science, the spectrum of a spectre. Tho
result was a startling one indeed. We had expected to
find lines indicating the presence of sulphur or phosphorus :
instead of that, we obtained a continuous band of palo
luminosity, clearly pointing to tho factthiit the apparition
had no known terrestial element in its composition.
Though we felt rather surprised at this discovery, wo
simply noted it down on our paper, and proceeded to
verify it by chemical analysis.
The phantom obligingly allowed us to fill a small phial
with the luminous matter, wliich Karry immediately pro-
ceeded to test with all the resources at our disposal. For
purposes of comparison I filled a corresponding phial with
air from another part of the room, which I subjected to
precisely similar tests. At tho end of half an hour wo
had completed our examination — the spectre meanwhilo
watching us with mingled curiosity and amusement; and
wo laid our written quantitative results side by side.
They agreed to a decimal. The table, being interesting,,
deserves a place in this memoir. It ran as follows : —
Chemical Anali/sia of an Aj^i^arition.
Atmospheric air ... . 9G-4.") per cent.
Aqueous vapour . . , . 2'31 „
Carbonic acid ..... 1*08 „
Tobacco smoke .... 0-16 „
Volatile alcohol .... A trace
100-00 „
^32 STRANGE STORIES.
The alcohol Ilarry plausibly attributed to tlio prcseuco
of glasses which had contained whisky toddy. The other
constituents would have been normally present in the
atmosphere of a room where two fellows had been smoking
uninterruptedly ever since dinner. This important ex-
periment clearly showed that the apparition had no proper
chemical constitution of its own, but consisted entirely of
the same materials as the surrounding air.
"Only one thing remains to be done now, Jim," said
Harry, glancing significantl}" at a plain deal table in the
corner, with whose uses we were both familiar ; " but then
the question arises, does this gentleman come within the
meaninu' of the Act ? I don't feel certain about it in mv
CD ft/
own mind, and with the present unsettled, state of public
opinion on this subject, our first duty is to obey the law."
"Within the meaning of the Act?" I answered; "de-
cidedly not. The words of the forty-second section say
distinctly ' any Vichuj animal.' Now, Mr. Egerton, accord-
ing to his own account is a ghost, and has been dead for
some two hundred years or thereabouts : so that wo needn't
have the slight(;st scruple on that account."
" Quite so," said Harry, in a tone of relief. " AVell then,
sir," turning to the apparition, " may I ask you whether
you would object to our vivisecting you ? "
" Mortuisccting, you mean, Harry," I interposed paren-
thetically. " Let us keep ourselves strictly within the
utmost letter of the law."
" Vivisecting ? Mortuiscol ing ? " exclaimed the spectre,
with some amusement. " Keally, the proposal is so very
novel that 1 hardly know how to answer it. I don't think
you will tind it a very practicable undertaking : but still,
if you like, yes, you mt;/ try your hands upon mo."
Wo were both much gratified at this generous readiness
to further the cause of science, for w^liich, to say the truth,
wo had hardly felt prepared. No doubt, we were con-
stantly in the habit of maintaining that vivisection didn't
OUR SCIENTIFIC OnSEUVATIOXS OX A GHOST. S^i
really hurt, and that rabbits or doj:5s rather enjoyed the
process than otherwise ; still, wo did not quite expect an
apparition in human form to accede in this gentlemanly
manner to a personal request which after all is rather a
ytartling one. I seized our new friend's hand with wanntli
and effusion (tliough my emotion was somewhat checked
hy finding it slip through my fingers immaterially), and
observed in a voice trembling with admiration, " .Sir, you
display a spirit of self- sacrifice which does honour to your
head and heart. Your total freedom from prejudice is
perfectly refreshing to the anatomical mind. If all ' sub-
jects ' were equally ready to bo vivisected — no, I m jan
mortuisected — oh, — well, — there," I aelded (for I begon to
perceive that my argument didn't hang together, as 'sub-
jects " usually accepted mortui section with the utmost
resignation), "perhaps it wouldn't make much difference
after all."
Meanwhile Harry had [pulled the table into the centre
of the room, and arranged the necessary instruments at.
one end. The bright steel had a most charming and
scientific appearance, which added greatly to the general
effect. I saw myself already in imagination drawing up
an elaborate report for the IJoyal Society, and delivering
a Croonian Oration, Avith diagrams and sections complete,
in illustration of tho " Vascular Sj'stcm of a (ihost." Bui
alas, it was not to be. A preliminary difficulty, slight in
itself, yet enormous in its preventive effects, unhappily
defeated our well-made plans.
" Before you lay yourself on tho table," said Harry,
gracefully indicating that article of furniture to the spectre
with his lancet, "may I. ask you to oblige mo by removing
your clothes ? It is usual in all these operations to — ahem
— in short, to proceed in imris naturaJibus. As you have
been so very kind in allowing us to operate upon you, of
course you won't object to this minor but indispensable
accompaniment."
334 STRANGE SWniES.
" Well, really, sir," answered the ghost, " I should have
no personal objection whatsoever ; but I'm rather afraid
it can't bo done. To tell you the truth, my clothes are
an integral part of myself. Indeed, I consist chiefly of
clothes, with only a head and hands protruding at the
principal extreiuities. You must have noticed that all
persons of my sort about whom you have read or he.'ird
were fully clothed in the fashion of their own day. I fear
it would be quite impossible to remove these clothes. For
example, llo^v very absurd it would be to see the shadowy
outline of a ghostly coat hanging up on a peg behind a
door. The bare notion would be sufficient to cast ridicule
upon the whole community. No, gentlemen, much as I
should like to gratify you, I fear the thing's impossible.
And, to let the whole secret out, I'm inclined to think, for
my part, that I haven't got any independent body what-
soever."
"But, surely," I interposed, "you must have some in-
ternal economy, or else how can you walk and talk ? For
example, have you a heart? "
" Most certainly, my dear sir, and 1 humbly trust it is
in the right place."
•' You misunderstand me," I repeated : " I am speaking
literally, not figuratively. Have you a central vascular
organ on your left-hand side, with two auricles and ven-
tricles, a mitral and a tricuspid valve, and the usual
accorapaniiucnt of aorta, pulmonary vein, pulmonary
artery, systole and diastole, and so forth ? "
" Upon my soul, sir," replied the spectre with an air of
bewilderment, " I have never even heard the names of
these various objects to which you refer, and so I am
quite unable to answer your question. But if you mean
to ask whether I have something beating just under ray
fob (excuse the antiquated word, but as I wear the thing
in question I must necessarily use the name), why then,
most undoubtedly I have."
OUR SCIENTIFIC OBSEItVATIONS ON A GHOST. 335
" Will yon oblige me, sir," said Harry, " by sliowing
me your wrist ? It is true I cau't feel your pulse, owing
to what you must acknowledge as a very un])leasant tenuity
in your component tissues : but perhaps I may succeed in
seeing it."
The apparition held out its arm. Harry instinctively
endeavoured to balance the wrist in his hand, but of
couiso failed in catching it. Wo w^ero both amused
throughout to observe how difficult it remained, after
«cveral experiences, to realize the fact that this visible
object had no material and tangible background under-
lying it. Harry put up his eyeglass and gazed steadily
at the phantom arm ; not a trace of veins or arteries could
anywhere be seen. " Upon my word," ho muttered, " I
believe it's true, and the subject has no internal economy
at aU. Tliis is really very interesting."
" As it is quite impossible to undress you," I observed,
turning to our visitor, " may I venture to make a section
through your chest, in order, if practicable, to satisfy
myself as to your organs generally?"
" Certainly," replied the good-humoured spectre ; " I
am quite at your service."
I took my longest lancet from its case and made a very
neat cut, right across the sternum, so as to pass directly
through all the principal viscera. The effect, I regret to
say, was absolutely nugatory. The two halves of the
body reunited instantaneously behind the instrument, just
as a mass of mercury reunites behind a knife. Evidently
there was no chance of getting at the anatomical details,
if any existed, underneath that brocaded waistcoat of
phantasmagoric satin. Wo gave up the attempt in
despair.
" And now," said the shadov/y form, with a smile of
conscious triumph, flinging itself easily but noiselessly
into a comfortable arm-chair, " I hope you are convinced
that ghosts really do exist. I think I have pretty fully
336 STUANGE STORIES.
domonstratod to you my own purely spiritual and im-
material nature."
" Excuse inc," said Harry, seating himself in his turn
on the ott(jman ; " I regret to say that I remain as sceptical
as at the beginning. You have merely convinced mo that
a certain visible shape exists apparently unaccompanied
by any tangil)lo properties. With this phenomenon I am
already familiar in tlie case of phosphorescent gaseous
eftluvia. You also seem to utter audible words without
the aid of a proper larynx or other muscular apparatus ;
Imt the telephone has taught mo that sounds exactly re-
sembling those of the human voice nuiy bo produced by a
very simple membrane. You have afibrded us probably
the best opportunity ever given for examining a so-called
ghost, and my private conviction at the end of it is that
you are very likely an egregious humbug."
I confess I was rather surprised at this energetic con-
clusion, fur my own faitli had been rapidly expanding
under the strange experiences of that ujemorable evening.
But the visitor himself scorned much hurt and distressed.
'' Surely," he said, " you won't doubt my word when I tell
you plainly that I am the authentic ghost of Algernon
Egerton. The word of an Egerton of Egerton Castle was
always better than another man's oath, and it is so still, I
liope. Besides, my frank and courteous conduct to you
both to-night, and the readiness with which I have met
all j'^our proposals for scicntifio examination, certainly
entitle me to better treatment at your hands."
" I must beg ten thousand pardons," Harry replied,
" for the plain langungc which 1 am compelled to use.
But let us look at the case in a difierent point of view.
During your occasianal visits to the world of living men,
you may sometimes have travelled in a railway carriage
in your invisible form."
*' I have taken a trip now and then (by a night train,
of course), just to see what the invention was like."
OUR SCIENTIFIC OBSERVATIONS ON A GHOST. 337
" Exactly so. Well, now, you must have noticed tliat
a guard insisted from time to time upon waking up tlio
sleepy passengers for no other purpose tlian to look at
their tickets. Sucli a precaution might he resented, say
hy an Egerton of Egerton Castle, as an insult to his
veracity and his honesty. But, you see, the guard doesn't
know an Egerton from a Muggins : and the mere word of
a passenger to the eifect that he belongs to that distin-
guished family is in itself of no more value than his per-
sonal assertion that his ticket is perfectly en regie."
" I see your analogy, and I must allow its remarkable
force."
" Not only so," continued Harry firmly, " but you must
remember that in the case I have put, the guard is dealing
with known beings of the ordinary human typo. Now,
when a living person introduces himself to me as Egerton
of Egerton Castle, or Sir Koger Tichborne of Alresford, I
accept his statement witli a certain amount of doubt,
proportionate to the natural improbability of the circum-
stances. But when a gentleman of shadowy appearance
and immaterial substance, like yourself, makes a similar
assertion, to the effect that ho is Algernon ''^'Igerton who
died two hundred years ago, then I am reluctantly com-
pelled to acknowledge, even at the risk of hurting that
gentleman's susceptible feelings, that I can form no proper
opinion whatsoever of his probable veracity. Even men,
whose habits and constitution I familiarly understand,
cannot alwaj'S be trusted to tell me the truth : and how then
can I expect implicitly to believe a being whoso very exist-
once contradicts all n.y previous experiences, and whoso pro-
perties give the lie to all my scientitic conceptions — a being
who moves without muscles and speaks without lungs?
Look at the possible alternatives, and then you will see that
I am guilty of no personal rudeness when I respectfully
decline to accept your imcorroborated assertions. You may
be Mr. Algernon Egerton, it is true, and your general stylo
z
888 STUANGE STOJilES.
of dress and appearance certainly "bears out that siippo-
tiition ; but then you may equally well be his Satanic
Majesty in person — in which case you can hardly expect
me to credit your character for implicit truthfulness. Or
again, you may bo a mere hallucination of my fancy : I
may be suddenly gone mad, or I may bo totally drunk, —
and now that I look at the bottle, Jim, we must certainly
allow that we have fully appreciated the excellent quali-
ties of your capital Glenlivat. In short, a number of
alternatives exist, any one of which is quite as probable
as the supposition of your being a genuine ghost ; which
supposition I must therefore lay aside as a mere matter
for the exercise of a suspended judgment."
I thought Harry had him on tlio hip, there : and the
spectre evidently thought so too; for he rose at once and
said rather stiflly, " I fear, sir, yon arc a confirmed sceptic
upon this point, and further argument might only result
in one or the other of us losing his temper. Perhaps it
would be better for me to withdraw. I have the honour
to wish you both a very good evening." He spoke once
more with the hauteur and grand mannerism of the old
school, besides bowing very low at each of us separately
as he wished us good-night.
"Stop a moment," said Harry rather hastily. "1
wouldn't for the world be guilty of any in hospitality, and
least of all to a gentleman, however indefinite in his
outline, who has been so anxious to afford us every chance
of settling an interesting question as you have. Won't
you take a glass of whisky and water before you go, just
to show there's no animosity ? "
" I thank you," answered the apparition, in the same
chilly tone ; " I cannot accept your kind offer. My visit
has already extended to a very unusual length, and I have
no doubt I shall be blamed as it is by more reticent ghosts
for the excessive openness with which I have conversed
upon subjects generally kept back from the living world.
OUR SCIENTIFIC OBSERVATIONS ON A GHOST. X)^
Once more," with another ccrcmoiiions bow, " I have the
honour to wish you a pleasant evening."
As ho said these words, the fluorcsceiit light brightened
for a second, and then faded entirelj' away. A slightly
unpleasant odour also accompanied the departure of our
guest. In a moment, spectre and scent alike dis-
appeared ; but careful examination with a delicate test
exhibited a faint reaction which proved the presence of
sulphur in small quantities. The ghost had evidently
vanished quite according to established precedent.
We filled our glasses once more, drained them off
meditatively, and turned into our bedrooms as the clock
was striking four.
Next morning, Harry and I drew up a formal account
of the whole circumstance, which we sent to the lioyal
Society, with a request that they would publish it in their
Transactions. To our great surprise, that learned body
refused the paper, I may say with contumely. Wo next
applied to the Anthropological Institute, where, strange
to tell, we met with a like inexplicable rebuff. Nothing
daunted by our double failure, we despatched a copy of our
analysis to the Cliemical Society ; but the only acknow-
ledgment accorded to us was a letter from the secretary,
who stated that " such a sorry joke was at once imper-
tinent and undignified." In short, the scientific world
utterly refuses to credit our simple and straightforward
narrative ; so that we are compelled to throw ourselves for
justice upon the general reading public at large. As the
latter invariably peruse the pages of " Belgravia," I have
ventured to appeal to them in the present article, confident
that they will redress our wrongs, and accept this valuable
contribution to a great scientific question at its proper
worth. It may bo many years before another chance
occurs for watching an undoubted and interesting Appa-
rition under such favourable circumstances for careful
observation; and all the above information may be
:j4o strange stories.
rt'i^artled as absolutely correct, down to five places of
decimals.
Still, it must be borne in mind that unless an apparition
had been scientifically observed as wo two independent
witnesses observed this one, the grounds for believing m
its existence would have been next to none. And even
after the clear evidence which we obtained of its im-
material nature, we yet remain entirely in the dark as to
its objective reality, and we have not the faintest reason
for believing it to have been a genuine unadulterated
o-host. At the best we can only say that we saw and
heard Something, and that this Something differed very
widely from almost any other object wo had ever seen and
hoard before. To leap at the conclusion that the Something
was therefore a ghost, would be, I venture humbly to
submit, without offence to the Tsychical Kesearch Society,
a most unscientific and illogical specimen of that peculiar
fallacy known as Begging the Question.
ILUI J) AS OF CAWXPORE.
We Germans do not spare troiiLlo wliero literary or
scientific work is on hand : and iso Avliei= I was appointed
by the University of Breslau to the travelling .scholarship
in the Xeo-Sanskritic languages, I made up my mind at
once to spend the next five years of my life in India. I
knew already a good deal more Hindi and Urdu than most
English officials who have spent twenty years in the
country ; but I was anxious to perfect my knowledge by
practice on the spot, and to acquire thorough proficiency
in conversation by intercourse with the people themselves.
I therefore went out to India at once, and avoiding the
great towns, such as Calcutta or Allahabad, which have
been largely anglicised by residents and soldiers, I took up
my abode in the little village of Bithoor on the Ganges, a
few miles from Cawnpore, celebrated as having been the
residence of the Nana Sahib, whom you English always
describe as " the most ferocious rebel in the Mui;iny."
Here I spent four years in daily intercourse with the
native gentry, whose natural repugnance to foreigners I
.soon conquered by invariable respect for tlieir feelings and
prejudices. At the end of eighteen months I had so won
my way to their hearts that the Muhammedans regarded
me as scarcely outside the pale of Islam, while the Hindoos
nsually addressed me by the religious title of Bhai or
brother.
::12 STUANGI-J STOniES.
Of course, however, the En^^liiih oflicials did not look
with any favouring eye upon my proceedings, especially
as I sometimes felt called upon to remonstrate with them
upon their hasty and often ignorant method of dispensing
justice. This coolness towards the authorities increased
the friendship felt towards me by the native population ;
and "the European Sahib who is not aFeringhee " became
a general adviser of many among the poorer people in
their legal difficulties. 1 merely mention tliese facts to
account for the contidence reposed in me, of whicli the story
I am about to relate is a striking example.
I had a syce or groom who passed by the name of Lai
Biro. This man was a tall, reserved, white-haired old
Hindoo, a Jat by caste, but with a figure which might
have been taken for that of a Brahman. His manner to mo
was always cold and sometimes sullen ; and I found it
difficult to place myself on the same terms with him as
with my other servants. One dark evening, however,
during the cold season, I had driven back from (Jawnporu
with him late at night in a small open trap, and found
him far more chatty and communicative than usual.
When we reached the bungalow-, we discovered that the
lights were out, and the house almost shut up, as the
servants had fancied that I meant to sleep at the club.
Lai Biro accordingly came in with me, and helped mo to
get my supper ready. Then at my request ho sat down
cross-legged near the door and continued to give me some
reminiscences of the Mutiny which had been interrupted
by our arrival.
" Yes, Sahib," he said quietly, composing himself on a
little mat with a respectful inclination of the body ; ''I
am Earn Das of Cawnpore."
I was startled by the confession, for I knew the name of
Earn Das as one of the most dangerous petty rebels, on
whose head Government had fixed a large price ; but
I was gratified by the confidence he reposed in me, and
HAM DAS OF CAWXPOIiE. 818
1 IjcectCCMl liiiu to ffo on with liis wtorv. I write It down
now in very nearly the literal English e<niivalei»t of hisJ
exact words.
"Yes, Sahib, it is a long story truly. I will tell you
how it all came about. I was a cultivator on tho uplands
lliero by Cawnpore, and 1 had a nice plot of land in
/ameendari near tlio village there, good land with wheat
and millet and a little tobacco. My millet was joar, and I
got a rupee for eighteen seers, good money. I was well-to-
do in those days. No man in the village but spoke well
of Eam Das. I had a wife and three children, and a good
mud cottage, and I paid my dues regularly to Mahadeo,
oil and grain, most proj^erly. Tho Brahmans said I was a
most pious man, and everybody thought well of me.
"One day Shaikh Ali, a Muhammedan, a landowner
from over the river in Oude, whom I knew in the bazaar
at Cawnpore, ho met me near tho bridge resting. IIo
said to me, * Well, Ham Das, these are strange things
coming to pass. They say the sepoys have mutinied at
Meerut, and the Ferlnghees are to be driven into the sea.'
"I said, 'That would not do us Ilindocs much good.
Wo should fall under you Musalmaus again, and you
would have an emperor at Delhi, and he would tax us
and trouble us as our fathers tell us the Moguls did before
the Ferlnghees came.'
" Shaikh Ali said to me, ' Are you a good man and
true ? '
" I answered, ' I pa}'' my dues regularly and do poojah.
but I don't know what you, a Musahuan, mean by a good
man.'
" ' Can you keep counsel against the accursed Ferln-
ghees ? ' said he.
♦' ' That is an easy thing to do,' I answered. * They
tax us, and number us, and make our salt dear, and mean
to take our daughters away from us, for which purpose
they have made a census, to see how many young women
3 14 ,S TJiA XGE STORIES.
there are of twelve years and upwards. Besides, they
slaughter cows the same as you do.*
*' ' Listen to mo, Kam Das,' ho said, • and keep your
counsel. Do you know that they have tried to make all
the sepoys lose casto and heconio like dogs and Pariahs,
l)y putting cow's grease on the cartridges? '
" * 1 know it,' I re[)lie(l, ' because my l)rother is a sepoy
at Allahabad, and ho sent mo word of it by a son of our
neighbour.'
" 'Did we ]\Insalmans over do so?' ho asked agair..
" ' I never hoard it,' said I : ' but indeed I am ignorant
of all these things, for I am not an old man, and I havo
only heard imperfectly from my elders. Still, I don't
know that you ever tried to make us lose caste.'
" ' Well, liam Das,' said the Shaikh, ' listen to what wo
propose. Tho sepoys from Meerut havo gone to Delhi
and have proclaimed tho King as Emperor. But now
the Nana of Bithoor has something to say about it. If
the Nana were made king, would you fight for him ? '
" * Certainly,' said I, ' for he is a Mahratta and a good
Hindoo. He should by rights be Peshwa of tho Mahrattas,
and hold power even over your emperor at Delhi.'
*' ' That is quite true,' tho Shaikh answered. ' Tho
Peshwa was always the right hand and director of tho
Emperor. If we put the Mogul on tho throne once more,
the Nana would be his real sovereign, and Hindoos and
Musalraans alike Avould rejoice in the change.'
" ' But suppose >ve fall out among ourselves ! '
" ' What does that matter in tho end ? ' he answered.
' Let us first drive out the accursed Fcringhees, and then,
if Allah prosper us, we ma}*^ divide the land as we like
between the two creeds. We are all sons of the soil,
Hindoo and Musalman alike, and wo can live together
in peace. But these hateful Feringhees, they come across
the sea, they overrun all India, they tax us all alike, they
treat your Sindiah and Holkar a^ they treat our Nizam
J?.1.V DAS OF CAWNPORE. 'MC>
ami our king of Oiicio, tlioy take away om- slaves, tlioy
tax our food, they pollute your Hacrcil rivens, tlioy (k-stroy
your castes, and as for us, they take their women to
picnic in our mosques, as I have seen myself at Agra.
►Shall wo not first drive them into the sea?'
" * You say well,' I answered, ' and I shall ask more
of this matter at Bithoor.'
"That was the iirst that I heard of it all. Xoxt day,
the village was all in commotion. It was said tliat the
Nana had called on all good Hindoos to help liim to cleai'
out the Feringhees. I left my hut and my children, and
I came to IJithoor here. Then thoy gave mo a rifle,
and told me 1 should march with them to Cawnporo to
kill the Feringhees. There were not many of the dogs,
and the gods were on our side ; and when we had killed
them all we should have the whole of India for i\ni
Hindoos, with no land-tax or salt-tax, and tliere should
be no more cattle slaughtered nor no more interference
with the pilgrims at Ilurdwar. It was a grand day that,
and the Nana, dressed out in all the I'eshwa's jewels,
looked like a very king.
" Well, we went to Cawnporo and began to besiege
the entrenchments which Wlieeler Sahib had thrown up
round the cantonment. Wo had great guns and many
men, both sepoys and volunteers. Inside, the Feringhees
had only a few, and not much artillery. We all thought
that the gods had given us the Feringhees to slay, and
that there would be no more of them loft at all.
" For twenty days we continued besieging, and the
Feringhees got weaker and weaker. They had no food,
and scarcely any water. At last Wheeler Sahib sent to
tell the Nana that he would give himself up, if the Nana
would spare their lives. The Nana was a merciful man,
and he said, ' I might go on and take the entrench-
ment, and kill you all if I wished ; but to save time,
because I want to get away and join the others, I will let
?AG STEANGE STOIUES.
yoii off.' So lie took all tlio money in the treasury, and
the guns, and promised to provide boats to tako them all
down to Allaliabad.
"I was standing al)out near one of our guns that day,
when Chunder Lai, a Brahman in the Nana's troops,
came up to me and said, ' Well, Kam Das, what do you
tliink of this ? '
" ' I think,' said I, ' that it is a sin and a shame, after
wo have broken down the hospital, and starved out the
Feringhecs, to lot them go down the river to Allahabad,
to strengthen the garrison that pollutes that holy city.
For I hear that they do all kinds of wrong there, and
insult the Brahmans, and tlu batlicrs, and the sacred
fig-tree. And if these men go and join them, the garrison
will bo stronger, and they will be able to hold out longer
against the people, which may the gods avert ! '
" ' So I think too. Earn Das, said he ; ' and for my part,
I would try to prevent their going.'
" A little later, we went down to the river, by the
Nana's orders. There some men had ^ot boats tosrether,
and were putting the Feringhees into them. It was
getting dark, and we all went down to guard them.
A few of them had got into the boats ; the rest were on
the bank. I can see it all now : the white men with
their proud looks abashed, going meekly into the boats,
and the women stepping, all afraid and shrinking from
the black faces — shrinking from us as if wo were unclean
and they would lose casto by touching us. Though tliey
were so frightened, they were proud still. Then three
guns went oif somewhere in the camp. Chunder Lai was
near me, and he said to me, ' That is the signal for ua
to fire. The Nana ordered me to fire when I heard those
guns.' I don't knew if it was true: perhaps the Nana
ordered it, perhaps Chunder Lai told a lie : but I never
could find out the truth about it, for they blew Chunder
Lai from the guns at Cawnpore afterwards, and I have
HAM DAS "''•' CAWNVORE. ?A1
never seen the Nana since to ask liim. At any rate,
I levelled my musket and iired. I hit an officer Sahib,
and wounded him, not mortally. In a moment there
was a great report, and I looked round, and saw all our
men firing. I don't know if they had tlie word of com-
mand, but I think not. I think they all saw mo firo, and
fired because I did, and because they thought it a shame
to let the Feringhoes escape ; as though the head man
of a village should entrap a tiger, a man-eater that had
killed many cultivators in their dal-fielJs, and then
should let it go. If a headman ordered the villagers to
loose it from the trap, do you think they would obey
him? No, and if he loosed it himself, they would take
muskets and sticks and weapons of all kinds, and kill
the man-eater at once. That is what we did with the
Feringhces.
" It was a terrible sight, and I did not like to see it.
Some of them leapt into the water and were drowned.
Others swam away madly, like wild fowl, and wc shot
at them as they swam ; and then they dived, and when
they came up again, we fired at them again, and the
water was red with their blood. I hit one man on the
shoulder, and broke his arm, but still he swam on with
his other arm, till somebody put a bullet through his
head, and he sank. I ran into the water, as did many
others, and we followed them down until all the swimmers
were picked off. Some of th(i boats crossed the river :
but there was a regiment Avaiting on the Oudo shore —
some said by accident, others that the Nana had posted
it there — and the sepoys hacked them all to jjioees as tluy
tried to escape. It was a dreadful sight, and I am an
older man now, and do not like to think of It : but I w .is
younger then, and our blood was hot with fighting, and
we thought we were going to drive the Feringhecs out
of the country, and that the gods would bo well pleased
with our day's work.
:n8 STIiAXGE STORIES.
" Some boats got away a little way, but they were
afterwards sent back. The women and children, some
of them badly wounded, we took back into Cawnpore.
We put them in the IJibi's house, near the Assembly
Kooms. Then in a few days, the others who were sent
back from Futteypore arrived, and the Nana said, ' What
shall I do with them ? ' Everybody said, * Shoot them : '
so wo took out all the men the same day and shot them
at once. The women and children the Nana spared,
because he was a humane man ; and he sent them to the
others in the Bibi's hoTise. There they were avcU treated ;
and tliouf^h they had not punkahs, and tattis, and cow's
flesh, as formerly, yet they got better rations than any
of the Nana's own soldiers : for the Feringhees, like all
you Europeans, Sahib, are very luxurious, and will not
live oif lice or dal and a little ghee like other people.
You have con(|uered every place in the world, from
Ceylon to Cashmere, and so you have got luxurious,
and live off wheaten bread, and cow's flesh, and wine, and
many such ungodly things. But the rest of the world
think it a great thing if they have ghee to their rice.
" After a fortnight the Nana's troops were defeated
at Futteypore, and it was said that the Feringheo ladies
were sending letters to the army. Then the Nana was
very angry. He said, ' I have spared these women's
lives, and yet they are sending news to my enemies.
1 will tell you what I will do : I will put them all to
death.' So he gave word to have them shot. I was "one
of the guards at the Bibi's house, and I got orders to
shoot them. Then we all tried to bring them out in front
of the house ; but they would not come ; so we had to
go in and put an end to them there with swords and
bayonets. Poor things ! they shrieked piteously ; and I
was sorry for them, because they were some of them
young and pretty, and it is not the women's fault if the
Feringhees come here, for the Feringhee ladies hate India,
HAM DAt; OF CAWNVOUE. 3I[>
and ^vill all go away af^ain acru.ss the water if they can
g-et a chance. And then there were the children I One
poor lady clung to my knees and begged hard for her
danghter : hut I had to obey orders, so I cnt her down.
It was very sad. But then, the Feringheo bidies are even
prouder than the men, and they hate us Hindoos. Thoy
would not care if they killed a thousand of us if their
little fingers ached. Locdc how they make us salaam,
and punish us for small faults, and compel us to work
prnkahs, and to run on foot after their carriages, and
insult our gods. Ah, they are a cruel, proud race. They
are lower than the lowest Sudra, and yet they will treat
a twice-born Brahman like a dos;.
" We throw all the bodies into the well at Cawnporo
where now they liaA'o put up an image of one of their gods
— a cold, white god, with two wings — to avenge their
deatli. Then there was great joy in Cawnpore. We had
killed the last of the Feringhees, and India should be oui-
own. Soon, we might make the Kan a into a real Peshwa,
and turn against the JMusalmans. and put down all
slaughtering (^f cattle altogether, as the Kani did at
Jhansi. We should have no more land-tax to pay, for the
Musalmans should pay all the taxes, as is just : but the
Hindoos should have their land for nothing, and live upon
chupattics and ghee and honey every day. Ah, that was
the grandest day that was ever seen in Cawnpore !
"But that was not the end of it. In the mysterious
providence of the all-wise gods it was otherwise ordained.
A few days before all this, I was stamling about in the
bazaar, when I met a jemadar. He said to me, ' So the
Feringhees are marching f!om Allahabad ! '
" ' The Feringhees ! ' I said : ' why, no, wo have killed
them all off out of India, thanks be to the gods. At:
Delhi they are all killed, and at Meerut, and at Cawnpore
here, and I believe everywhere but at Allahabad and at
Calcutta.*
350 STn.lXGE STOIiTES.
" ' Ram Das,' lio aiiswererl, ' you are a child ; you
know nothiii<5. Do you think the Feringhecs are so few y
Thov are swarmino; across the water like locusts across the
Ganges. In a few months, they will all come from where
they have been lielping- the Sultan of Eoum against the
other Christians, and they will make the whole Dual) into
a desert, as they made liohilcund in the days of Hosteiti
Sahib."* Shall I tell you the news from Delhi ? '
" 'Yes,' 1 said, ' tell me by all means, for 1 don't believe
the Feringhecs will ever again hold rule in India, the
land of the all-wise gods.' In those days, Sahib, J
was very foolish. I did not know that the Feringhecs
were in number like the green parrots, and that they
could send countless shiploads across the water as easily
as we could send a cargo of dal down tlie river to
Benares.
" ' Well, tlien,' he said, ' Delhi has been besieged, and
before long it will be taken. And the Feringhecs have sent
up uicn from Calcutta who have reached Allahabad, and are
now on the march for Cawnpore. When they come, they
will take us all, and kill the Nana, and there will be an end
of the Hindoos for ever. They are going to make us all
into Christians by force, baptising us with unclean water,
and making l}rahmans and Pariahs eat together of cow's
flesh, and destroying all caste, and modesty, and religion
altogether.'
" ' They ",vill do all these things, doubtless,' I replied,
* if tbey can succeed in catching us : but it is impossible.
The Feringhees are but a handful : they could never
liave ruled us if it were not for the sepoys. They had
all the muskets and the ammunition, and they kept them
from us. But now that the sepoys have mutinied, the
Feringhees are but a few officers and half-a-dozen
regiments. And 1 cannot believe that the gods would
allow men like them, wiio are worse than Musalmans,
* "Warren Hastings.
Riyr DAS OF CAWsrouE. \\:a
and have no caste, to conquer ns who are the best blood in
India, Brahmans, and Jats, and Mahrattas.'
" But the jemadar hiughed at me. ' I tell you,' he said,
* this rehollion is all child's play. For I have myself
been across the water once, as an officer's servant, and
and have been to England, and to their great town,
London. It is so great that a man can hardly walk
across it from end to end in a day ; and if you were
to put Allahabad or Cawnpore down in its midst, the
people would not know that any new thing had come
about. They have ships in their rivers as thick as the
canes in a sugar-field ; and iron roads with cars drawn
by steam horses. They have so many men that they
could overrun all India as easily as the people of Cawn-
pore could overrun Bilitoor. And so when 1 hear their
guns outside the town, I will run away to them, and I
advise you to do so too.'
" I didn't believe ]iim at the time ; but a few days
afterwards, I found out that the Ferin ghees were really
marching from Allahabad. And when wo killed the
ladies, they were almost at the door. Tliey fought like
demons, and we knew that the demons must all bo on
their side. Many times we went out to meet them, but
in four separate battles they cut our men to pieces like
sheep. At last, just after we had got rid of the ladies,
they got to Cawnpore.
" Then there was no end of tiie confusion. The Nana
got frightened, and fled away. We blow up the magazine,
so that they might not have powder; and the Feringhees
came at once into the town. There never were people so
savage or angry. The sight of the well and the Bibi's
house seemed to drive them wild. They were more like
tigers than human beings. Every sepoy whom they
caught they shot at once for vengeance, because that is their
religion : and many who were not sepoys, and who had
not borne arms against them, they shot on false evidence.
3-)2
STRANGE STOItlES.
Every man who luid a grudge against another told the
Feriiigheos that their enemy had helped to cut down the
ladies ; and the Feringhees were so greedy for blood that
thoy believed it all, and shot them down at once. So
much blood was never shed in Cawnpore : for one life
they took ten. Then wo knew it was all true what the
jemadar had said, and that they would take the whole Doab
back, and put back the land-tax, and the salt-tax ; and wo
thought too that they would make us all into Christians;
but that they have not done, for so long as they get their
taxes, and have high pay and good bungalows, and cow's
flesli and beer, they don't care about, or reverence any
religion, not even their own. For wo Hindoos respect our
fakeers, and even the Musalmans respect their pirs ; but
the Ferinii;hecs think as little of the missionaries as wo
do ourselves, and care more for dances than for their
churches. That is why they have not compelleil us to
become Christians.
"All the time the Fcringhces were in Cawnpore, I lay
hid in the jemadar's house. Ho was a good man, though
ho had gone over to the Feringhees as soon as they came
in sight : and nobody suspected his house, because he was
now on their side, and had given them news of all that
took place in the town when we killed the officers and the
ladies. So I was (juito safe there, and got dal and water
every day, and was in no danger at all.
" rresentl}-, the Feringhees moved oGf again, abandoning
Cawnpore, becauso Ilavelock Sahib, who was the most
terrible of their generals, wanted to go on to Lucknow.
There the Musalmans of Oude had risen and were besieg-
ing the Presidency, with all the soldiers and officers. I
would not go to Oude, because I did not care to fight for
Musalmans, preferring rather to wait the chance of the
Nana coming back ; for only a Mahratta could now recover
the kingdom for the Hindoos; and the Musalmans aro
almost as bad as the Feringhees themselves. In a short
nAM DAS OF CAWSrOJlK V/o'J
time, liowovcr, tlio rjwalior men camo. Tliev were cood
men, tlio Gwalior men : for thongli Sindiali, tlitir rajah,
had commanded them not to iight, they woukl not desert
the other Hindoos, when there were Feringhecs to bo
killed: and they disohoyed Sindiah, and rehellod, and so I
joined them gladly. They pitched only fifteen miles from
Cawnpore, and there I went out and enlisted with them.
" By-antl-by most of the Gwalior men got frightened,
and went back again. Then things became very bad. A
few of us marched southward, and hid in the jungles that
slope down towards the Jumna, We were very frightened,
because there are tigers in that jungle: and two Gwalior
men were eaten l)y the tigers. But soon some Feringhecs
from Etawa heard of our being there, and tlioy camo out
to stalk us. It was just like shooting niI-</}iac. They
came on horseback, and cl(-»sed all round the jungle wliero
we were. Then they crept on into the jungle, and wo
crejit away from them. ]*]very now and then the}' drove
a man into an open space ; and then they all shouted like
fiends, and shot at him. When they liit him and rolled
him over, they laughed, and shouted louder still. I was
hidden under some low bushes ; and two Feringhecs passed
close to me, one on each side of the bushes ; but they did
not see me. Soon after, they started a man who had been
a sepoy, and he ran back towards my bushes. I never
said a word. Then they all lired at him, and killed him :
but one bullet hit me on the arm, and went through the
flesh of my arm, and partly splintered the bone. But still
I said nothing. All day long I lay moaning to myself
very low, and the Feringhecs scoured all the jungle, and
killed everybody but me, and went away saying to tliem-
.selves that they had had a good day's sport. For they
hunted us just as if wo were antelojics.
" I lay for a fortnight, wounded, in the jungle, and had
nothing to eat but Mahua berries. I was feverish and
wandered in my mind : but at the end of a fortnight 1
2 A
;i54 STIIANGE STOllIES.
could crawl onf, and managed to drag along my wounded
arm. Then 1 went to the nearest village, and gave out
iliat I was a cultivator who had been wounded Ijy the
Gwalior men in trying to defend a tuhseelie * for the
Feringhee.s. For that, they took great caro of me, and
sent me on to Cawnpore.
" I was not afraid to go back to the town, for my own
people would not know mo again. In that fortnight I
had grown from a young m.an into the m.an you seo mo ;
only I was older-looking then than I am now, for I have
got younger in the Sahib's service. IMy hair had turned
white, and so had my beard, whicli was longer and more
matted than before. M}- forehead was wrinkled, and my
cheeks had fallen away. As soon as I had got to Cawn-
pore, I went straight to the jemadar's house, to see if ho
would recognize me ; but he did not : for even my voico
was hoarser and harsher than of old, through fever and
exposure. So I went and told my story to the Feringhee
doctor, how I had been wounded in keeping the tuhseelie
for his people ; and he tended my arm, and made it well
again. For though the Feringhees are savage like tigers
to their enemies, if you befriend them, they will treat you
well. In that they are better than the Musalmans.
" Soon after, I went out to the parade ground, because I
lieard there was to be a dreadful sight. They were going
to blow the rebels they had taken, from the guns. I went
out and looked on. Then they took all the men, Brahmans
and Chumars alike, and broke caste, and tied them each
to a gun. I could not have done it, though I cut down
the Feringhee ladies ; but they did it, and made a light
matter of it. Then they fired the guns, and in a whiif
their bodies were all blown away utterly, so that thero
was nothing left of them. This they did so as utterly to
destroy the rebels, leaving neither body nor soul, but
annihilating them altogether, which is worse than death.
* Village Treasury.
HAM DAS OF CAWSPftlli:. 35i
;>
Tlicj would have tlono it to me, if they hatl caught nio.
Do you wonder that I hate the Fcriri<j;hecs, Sahib ? Why,
they did it even to tho twice-born i'rahnians, let alone a
Jat. Tho gods will avenge it on tlioni.
" Then I wont ont to look at my plot of hmd. Tlio
Feringliees knew of mo from many traitors, some of whom
had given np my name to save themselves from being
blown away — and no wonder. They had seized my plot,
and sold it to another man, a zameendar, a Kayath in
Cawnpore, who had made money by snpplj'ing them with
food — tho curse of all tho gods upon him ! And as for my
wife and children, they had gone wandering out, and I
liave never seen them since. My wife was with child, and
she went into Cawnpore, and thenco elsewhere, I know
not where, and starved to death, I suppose, or died in some
other sliameful way. But one of my daughters a missionary
got, and sent her to Meerut to a scliool ; and there they
arc teaching her to be a Christian, and to hatu her own
gods and her own people, and to love tho Feringliees who
suck tho blood of India, and grind down tho poor with
taxes, and dispossess the Thakurs, who ouglit, of course,
by right to own tho land. Tliis much I learned by
inquiring at Cawnpore ; but how my wife died, or whether
they killed her, or what, that I have never been able to
learn.
" So that was the end of it all. The Nana was hidden
away somewhere up Nepaul way ; and the Feringhees had
got back Lucknow ; and all over the Doab and the Punjab
they were established again, and the hopes of tho people
were all broken. And I had lost my land, and my wife,
and my children, and had nothing to live upon or to live
for. And we had not driven out the accursed strangers,
after all, but on the contrary they made themselves stronger
than ever, and sent more soldiers, as the jemadar had
prophesied, and put down the Company, who used to bo
their rajah, and sent up a Maharani instead, who is now
3r.; STJtANGI-J ,'STORIES.
Empress of India. And tlicy made now taxes and a now
census and all sorts of iini)osts. But since that time they
liave been more afraid of us, and are iiot so insolent to tho
temples, or tho pilgrims, or to the sacred monkeys. And 1
camo to Bithoor, and hccame a syce, and I have been a syct-
ever since. That is all I know about tho Mutiny, Sahib."
Tho old man stopped suddenly, having told all his story
in a dull, monotonous voice, witl\ little fooling and no
dramatic display. I have tried to reproduce it just as he
Baid it. There was no passion, no fierceness, no cruelty in
liis manner; but simply a deoii, settled, uniform tone of
hatred to the English. It was tho only time I had ever
heard the story of the Mutiny from a native point of view,
and I give it as I heard it, without mitigating aught
either of its horror or its truth.
" And you are not afraid of telling me all this ? " I
asked.
He shook his head. " The Sahib has a white face," he
answered, "but his heart is black."
" And the Nana?" I inquired. " Do you know if he is
living still?"
His eyes flashed fire for the first time since ho liad
begun. " Ay," ho cried ; " ho is living. That I know
from many trusty friends. And he will como again
whenever there is trouble between the Feringhces and the
other Christians : and then we shall have no quarrelling
among ourselves ; but Sindiah, and Ilolkar, and tho Nizam,
and the Oude people, and even tho Bengalis will rise up
together; and we will cut every Feringhec's throat in
all India, and the gods will give us the land for ever
after. . . . Good night, Sahib ; my salaam to you." And
he glided like a serpent from the room.
IRINTED liY WILLIAM CLOWKS AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND LECCLES.
[September, 1884.
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Under the Greenwood Tree.
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Beatrix Randolph.
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Fated to be Free.
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The Dark Colleen.
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Oakshott Castle.
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World SayP
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"My Love!"
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Gideon Fleyce.
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