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IWIaps, plataa, charts, etc.. may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely included in one expo»ure ara filmed beginning in the upper left han;i corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams iliuatrata the method: Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre film6s d des taux de reduction diffdrents. Lorsque le docun^ent est trop grand pour Stre reproduit en un s««ul clich*. il est film* d partir de Tangle supirieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas. en pranant le nombre d'imagas nAcessaira. Las diagrammes suivants illustrant la mAthoda. irrata to pelure, n A □ 32X 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. I" g' li I?.' i i FvontUpiece.] " i opened the carbiage doob and jumped odt." [p. 282. s I an; .. Mil '"' :')/^ f a 3 ;«/?/■ KfriOS X '',(■> .s ' ! utf. c.',«!UAur ;»i irt> -7t;T, f p. f «, £}r/- / Mrs. Keith Hamilton, m.b. ^oi{E expet{ie:hses OF ELIZzA'BErH gLE\ ANNIE S. SWAN (Mrs. Burnett-Sntith) author of homesfun,""a bitter debt," "a foolish marriage," "aluersyde," etc. IVith full-page IllttshatioHS by U. MURRAY SMITH TORONTO, CANADA WILLIAM BRIGOS LONDON HUTCHINSON & CO. ^l(.03l , AA3^M^ t^Mt&REb accoi-ding to Act of the t'arliaihent of Canada, iii the yeAr one thouMnd eight hundred and ninety-seven, by William Brigos, at the Departmint of Agriculture. CONTENTS. I. AT HER GATES . rAoc II. AN AMERICAN HEIRESS . 25 III. THE SIN OF THURSTON GALE . 49 IV. IDA falconer's wedding 75 V. ON THE BRINK . 101 VI. A HOME HEROINE . 125 \^' foV^'' vl CONTENTS. VII. A WOMAN OF CHAEACTEB PAOE . 151 VIII. THE LOST BKACELET 1 >*"* . it I IX. LADY BKTTY • • • . . . 205 THE PATIENTS IN LITTLE MERRICK STREET ET . . *'^^9 XL AN ADOPTED CHILD , . ; . 253 >AOE 51 it t 205 '^29 253 I. ^T HER GATES. I. AT HER GATES. *'Thkre is no help for it, Elizabeth," I said. ''You'll have to give me a lew more peeps into that diary of yours. I've i)ut people off as long as I can. Don't you see it would he to your credit to give to the world a few more of your expt riences, just to show that they have been vv:ry varied ? "" We were sitting together in the window of the mornipg-room at Flisk on a cold April day. I had been tempted to take that most unusual luxury, a holiday early in the year, and I found spring still afar off in my friend's northern home. There v^as scarcely a green blade on hedge or tree, and though the grass was fresh and restful to the eye as the spreading lawns merged into the noble park, there were no daisies, and not a primrose on the river's brim. But there was all the freedom of the open : miles of lovely country, brown fields beginiJug to ill 4 MHS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. 81P0/! fwshly of the new seaeon, and a certain pro- mise of the laggard in the twitterings of the birds among the boughs. Also that delicate and subtle clearness of the atmosphere which makes the breath of life a delight, and q\\^.9 one wonderful ideas of space and distance and eteruily. Elizabeth's home was worthy of her — a sombre, stately, venerable pile, standing erect and unashamed on its little eminence, its grey battlements showing clear cut, like some aristocratic face, against the delicate crystal of the sky. It was entirely unadorned, save where all about the western wing the green ivy had crept tenderly, harmonising exquisitely with the cold grey granite, giving to it the necessary touch of colour and of life. It was many windowed, and within the rooms were noble, yet filled with a solid comfort; in a word, it was a home. Elizabeth had wisely not interfered with its sub- stantial and fitting furnishing; only her private rooms bore the stamp of her own personality. In the window of the room where we now sat stood the table from the consulting-room in Ray burn Place, and in the dear old revolving chair Elizabeth had a trick of sitting, as she had so often done in those bleosed old days when 1 could see her when the AT HER GATES. ivate la 1 the lace, had those the 1 spirit moved me, with her elbows on the morocco arms and her chin in her hands. She was so sitting as I made my statement, and she looked at me keenly with the merry, penetrating, lovely eyes which gave snch character to her face. "I believe," she said, solemnly, "that you came for that purpose. Indeed, Keith said only this very morning he believed you had designs upon me ; that he entirely mistrusted your seeming innocence. He believes you to be insatiable for copy." "I shall make copy out of him presently, to punish him for such an aspersion on my character," I said. "May I ask you a question, Elizabeth?" "You may, though it must be something more pronounced than usual to call for such rare humility." I was looking very earnestly at Elizabeth as she spoke; and somehow the need for the question seemed to disappear. She had now been married eighteen months, and there was upon her sweet face a look of absolute content such as is seen on very few. Sometimes in the old days there had been lines of care and worry on her broad brow; these were now all smoothed away. "Elizabeth, you are an unutterable fraud. You'd pass for one-and-twenty any day. Don't you think 6 MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. V i I !) \ black burning shame, as Marget says, and yonr husband's hair so hopelessly grey?" She smiled charmingly. "You are hedging, madam. What secret do you want to wring from me by those bare-faced flat- teries?" "I only want to ask you, Elizabeth, whether you don't regret the old busy, harassed life. Have you enough here to fill up that great heart of yours, with its boundless capacity for work and care? So many want to know." Elizabeth laughed a little, but presently her eyes grew grave. ' * " It is a very different life ; its restfulness lies upon me like a great flood. I cannot speak about it. Why should I have so much when others have so little? The injustice of it weighs upon me. I have only to wish : the thing is there j my husband lives to make me blessed." " Not entirely ; he sometimes thinks of others, and works for them too, dear ; and even if he didn't, you are worthy of it." " So he says, and you, because you love me ; bvit in that great city, where you and I have seen some- thing of the unspeakable sadness of life, there are ■r AT HER GATES. ■ X', many as worthy, or worthier, and with capacity for joy as keen, who are denied everything, everything but pain. I am fully satisfied. I am, God knows, only sometimes haunted by the fear lest prosperity, freedom from care, absolute happiness, should render me selfish or hardened to the sorrow of others." "It will never do that, Elizabeth; you need have no fear." "We do what we can, bnt poverty and evil do not press here as in cities. It is within the reason- able grasp of dealing. We are building a cottage hospital at Port Ellon, and it will be perfect of its kind, so that we can deal with ordinary cases, and even extraordinary ones. But after all it is very litt/e ; we have not the absolute misery of despair and want meeting us on every hand ; it is like playing at aoing good." " You can plunge into the old paths when you come to London next month," I said, suggestively. " Yes, I can ; but I found myself last year a good deal hampered. Elizabeth Glen could go where Mrs. Keith Hamilton is not welcome. I have closed up many doors of usefulness by my marriage." " But opened others," I said, hastily, for 1 could not bear to hear her even seem to hint at disappointment. 8 MRS. KEITH HAMILTON. M.B. , i .1 i lill ^^ Oh, of coarse ; to begin with, there is Keith : to see a man so gailelessly, completely, and absolutely happy is something, and his career is more interesting to me than any case I ever had," she said, with a lovely blnsh. '' I am even ambitious, I believe, within certain limits. Why, who is that coming up the avenue ? Do you recognise anybody, dear ? " I stood up and looked out between the heavy hangings, to see a solitary figure coming somewhat wearily up between the bare, wintry-looking trees. A woman evidently, and young, walking slowly and with effort, as if her limbs were weary or unaccus- tomed to the exertion. " I don't know her," said Elizabeth. " But she is in trouble, that is quite evident, and a mere girl. I wonder what it can be." " We shall see presently. How natural it is that the troubled and the sad should seek the gates of Flisk, even as they used to besiege your door in Ray burn Place ! " I said ; and before Elizabeth replied there was a knock at the door, and Margaret looked in. "I thocht I'd come mysel, ma'am, to explain. That's Jeanie Falconer that was ; she cam to the kitchen door." ith : to lolutely jresting with a believe, ling up 1 heavy imewhat pees. A jvly and unaccus- t she is girl. 1 is that ^ates of door in b replied yiargaret explain, to the "walking slowly and with effort." I p. 8. WALKING SLOWLY AND WITH EFFORT." I p. 8. AT HER GATES. " I don't know her, Margaret. What does she want?" " She wants to see yon, ma'am. The maister kens the story. It happened afore we cam. She ran awa." " And she has come back, I suppose, in trouble ? " "Aye; and they'll no tak her in at the Mains, even her ain mither. v^ill ye see her, mem?" " Yes ; put her in the library, Margaret, and see that the fire is good," said Elizabeth, and as the door closed she turned to me. "I remember the story now ; Keith told it to me. There was an Edinburgh artist at the Mains two years ago, painting the strath. Pretty Jeanie was fair amusement for him. He persuaded her to run away with him, but we thought they were married. What an old story it is ! How often have you and I seen it played 1 " She seemed saddened by the thought, and presently went down to see the suppliant, and I was left alone. But not for long. It was almost tea-time, and Mr. Hamilton usually turned in at that time, and we often said it was one of the jolliest hours of the day. "Hulloa, you're there, and as sober as a judge," he called out cheerily, as he put his bright face inside the door. « Where's Elizabeth ? " 10 MRS. KEITH HAMILTON. M.B. i I 11 " Somebody wanted her downstairs— somebody in Liuuble." " Oh I " said he, meditatively. " Did you happen to hear the name ? " " Falconer, I think — Jeanie Falconer." He gave a long whistle. " So she's come back, poor lassie : well, it's a case for Elizabeth, not for me. Has she been telling you about her pet scheme — the hospital at Port Ellon ? " " She has just mentioned it ; it's a fine idea, Mr. Hamilton, and Elizabeth must have some outlet for her energies." " But you don't think she finds it slow here, do you ? " he asked, and the anxiety on his handsome face indicated how great a matter it was to him. I could not forbear a smile. " You have only to look at her face. She is more than content ; but it is not possible for her to sit down and be idly happy. To be doing for others is the litany of her life." " Don't I know it ? " he said under his breath, and if ever adoration was expressed in a man's face, I saw it then. " Suppose we go upstairs and wait for her ; surely she won't be long." m 'ii! /ir ItEK GATES. It We went up, and after waiting about ten minuteH I persuaded Mr. Hamilton to let me pour out his tea. And almost immediately Elizabetli joined us. Her face was fluslied, and I saw tliat she was a little excited. "Oh, Keith, I am so glad you are in," she cried. " That's i)Oor Jeanie Falconer — Mrs. Tom Gilchrist really ; he did marry her after all." " And what's she doing here, then ? " asked Mr. Hamilton, with all a man's abruptness. "A wife ought to stop with her husband. Isn't that your creed, wife?" " Yes, other things being equal," replied Elizabeth, with a significant smile. " Well, what's gone wrong ? Were you going to tell OS?" "In a minute. They've married in haste and they're repenting at leisure, apparently. Poor Jeanie overheard him telling an artist friend that his mar- riage had been a frightful mistake, and the poor little thing acted on her first impulse to run home to her mother. And thev wouldn't take her in." "Wouldn't they? Well, it was a blow to them. Poor old Falconer has never held up his head in kirk or market since." It MRS, KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. ; "That's because he didn't believe them to be married. I've got the certificate right enoDgh here. I'm going over presently to the Mains to let them see it. Margaret will take care of poor Jeanie till her father comes to fetch her." " You'll be a witch if you get Falconer to give in so quickly as all that. He's slow to anger, but he keeps it up." " I'll make him come if I stop all night, dear," said Elizabeth, and she looked as if she meant it. " There isn't any time in life to keep up feuds, especially in families ; oh, it is too short." " Are you going to take Jeanie with you ? " asked Mr. Hamilton after a moment. "No, she'll stay here, and Margaret will see to her. Will you go with me ? " asked Elizabeth, turning to me. "And if Falconer is amenable, we can take Port Ellon coming back, and see the hospital." " Don't attempt too much in a day, wife," said Mr. Hamilton, gravely. " There are seven days in a week, and she has promised us two weeks at least." Elizabeth smiled and gave him a little pat on his big broad shoulder, and her look was one of the most exquisite confidence and love. But I saw that ^S-( M' -—: AT HER GATES. 13 her heart was in her mouth, and that she still hid the sorrows of others in her soul. In less than half an hour we were in Elizabeth 'is little Ralli cart, her strong, capable hands on the reins, and the groom behind. Elizabeth was fond of her horses, and proud of them too ; the beautiful creature she drove that night seemed to know and respond to her lightest touch. "Spring tarries .here, Elizabeth," I said, as my eyes wandered across th^ varied landscape, seeking in vain for the green glory of her skirts. " Yes, but when she comes it is like a Queen, dear. To see Flisk in June is to get some idea of Paradise. But J like winter too, the wideness of the landscape, the bareness of the trees, the wild winds whistling down the glens. Look at the light on the moor yonder; you would never get that dark glow in summer. Port Ellon lies just beyond; the sea is there ; when the wind is southerly you get the salt of it even at Flisk." " I have a lot of things to see, Elizabeth," I said. " Most of all, I think, the lych gate where you and Keith parted so bitterly in the long ago." " That's at Glenspeed, dear, and we need a long day at Glenspeed. There is the Mains, It is just in $$' MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. six, 80 we'll catch Falconer as he comes in. TheyVe all busy on the land just now, planting potatoes." The Mains, a snug, blue-slated farmhouse on the roadside, with its outbuiloings clustered about it, looked a very tidy, well-managed place. A good garden, with a grassy lawn in front, separated it from the road, and was entered by a green wicket gate. " You can come in if you like, dear. They won't mind," said Elizabeth, as she sprang to the ground. 1 hesitated a moment, and then followed her. A little maidservant, evidently much flustered, showed us in, and we were left quite a long time in the old-fashioned sitting-room, which was so exquisitely clean, and smelt so sweetly of lavender and thyme and all the old-fashioned herbs beloved of country housekeepers. "Now, I wonder why Mrs. Falconer doesn't come," said Elizabeth, rather mi])atiently. " Well^ here's the old man himself." He opened the door, and gave us good evening, with the rugged courtesy of these well-mannered people ; and Elizabeth introduced me briefly. The difficulty was that he had not the remotest idea why we had come ; and though it was by no means unusual for Mrs. Hamilton to dro]) in upop. the ,ji AT HER GATES. H r tenants, where she was always welcome, I saw he suspected something nnusiml. He was an old man, and aged perhaps before his time, but his face was hale and ruddy, and his eye had lost none of its keenness. I walked over to the open window, r.nd looked ont, wishing almost that I had not come in. " Perhaps you'll think me au impertinent meddler, Mr. Falconer," began Elizabeth in her direct way. " Bnt really in this I can't help myself. I've just come from your daughtei, Mrs. Tom Gilchrist." I felt that the old man frowned, but I did not look round. " She's at Flisk, and 1 want to know why she isn't here. Where's Mrs. Falconer ? '* "She's tendin' a sick woman at the men's hooses," he answered. " Mrs. Tom Gilchrist, as ye ca' her, has made her bed, an' she can lie on't. I'm for nae returned goods here." " Now that's all nonsense," said Elizabeth cheerily, though I am confident, had these words been ad- dressed in such a voice to me, I should have beat a hasty retreat. "She isn't returned goods at all. It wt^s the most natural thing in the world that she should take a longing to see her mother, to say nothing of you.' >» li! 1 ■\ \ u i6 MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. " I'm for nane o' lier here," he retorted, angrily. " An nngratefu' hizzie, hringin' disgrace on folk that wad hae deed to serve her. She maun mak the best o' her penter body noo she's got him, as I telt her the day; an' it shows what a puir craven spirit is in her that she wad gang wi' a puir face to you, mem." "It was surely better to come to me than to some who would take joy in spreading the tale," Elizabeth answered quickly. " Did her mother see her to-day?" " Her mither sees eye to eye wi' me, as she should," replied Mains, sternly. "I daresay you dared her to say a word on her own account," observed Elizabeth, drily. "Come now, Mr. Falconer, be sensible. Jeanie has come back to see you, and a bonnie talk it will be in the countryside if she stays at Flisk instead of here, where she ought to be. She was afraid you wouldn't believe she was really married, so she brought this with her. Don't you think it will be wise to make the best of a bad job ? " She handed him the certificate, and he did glance over it, but his brows did not relax. "She maun learn that her faithtr an' mither are /iT HER GATES. 17 no auld boots to be kicket aboot, onyway. She can gang back to her man. It's whanr she should be, onyway." " Well, she will go back to him by-and by," said Elizabeth, desperately, for it was like beating against a stone wall. " The poor thing is ill and weary. She needs her mother's advice and help. It was the most natural thing in the world she should seek it just now." "What for did he no come wi' her, an' own up as a nan should that he's been a rascal ? " fr*». £cth B. Strong should be made smart. " * Well, no ; not exactly. I guess we're almost English now ; we've just come from Mentone a fort- night ago. But we live here. We've had this house three seasons running. I guess pa thinks we've caught on here ; we ain't been back to St. Paul's nigh two years. He says it's rough on him, an' talks of comin' to fetch us, but I guess he won't yet awhile.' "I had often heard that it is not uncommon for American families to be split up in this fashion, and to me it did seem a trifle rongh on ' pa and the boys ' to be left so cavalierly to fend for themselves, as we say here. " ' The boys are your brothers, I suppose ? * ' * Yes, Seth and lleub. Seth's gone to business since we've been here, but Renb's to college yet. Perhaps they'll come over in the fall. Ma was real pleased to hear of a woman doctor; we've lots of women doctors in America. They've caught on; but I always thought English folks preferred men.' "'So they do, as a rule, Miss Minnie. AVe profit by the exceptions,' I replied, and Miss Minnie laughed heartily. w 'I I I' ill i 30 MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. " ' That's good. We've heard you're awfully clever, Doctor Glen, and now I'm sure of it,' she said, frankly* "Before I had time to reply to this pretty com- pliment, a servant appeared with the request that I would step upstairs to Mrs. Strong's room. " I found her sitting up in bed, attired in a very elegant dressing-jacket and looking the picture ot health. She was, of course, a middle-aged woman, and very good-looking, though in no way resembling the daughter I had seen. " * Good afternoon,* I said, and I saw that she was observing me keenly. ' What do you complain of, Mrs. Strong ? 1 think you look at this moment remarkably well.* " * I never lose my colour, Doctor Glen, and so I get very little sympathy,' she observed. 'Won't you sit down ? I've been more than sick for two weary days.' " I remembered that Americans use the word ' sick ' in place of ' ill,' so I sat down and took her hand. I was not at all surprised to find the pulse absolutely normal. Her skin was quite cool, and she looked in as perfect health as I was myself. She was playing a little farce, and it was interesting to me tp find oi;t the reason yfhy. AN AMERICAN HEIRESS. 11 " * I have an all-gone feeling, and my head simply splits,' she began. <■ The girls would send for you, afraid in case I should be taken real bad.' " ' Oh, but you won't be ; possibly a little indi- gestion,' 1 said, cheerfully. ' I yhouldn't stay in bed, were 1 in your place, but get up and go for a nice drive.' " < 1 couldn't think of it,' she replied, flatly. * I liaven't the strength of a baby. Had any talk with my daughter Minnie downstairs ? ' "'A little,' I replied, guardedly. " * She's told you about us, I guess. Did she say her pa was dead set on us going home to St. Paul's ? ' "I shook my head. "'And we're as dead set on not going. I hate the place. I told their pa I shouldn't come back when I left. I want him to come and live in England. He says he can't for business. That's all nonsense too. Men get like that grubbing along at business for ever. A manager could do just as well ; and I'm going to hold out till he can't hold out any longer. He says in his last letter he won't send any more dollars, but I guess he will. I've just been getting the girls a new rig-out for the season; and won't he stare when he gets the bills ? ' n m i\i m m 32 MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. "I looked at the woman silently, amazed at her almost brutal frankness. Was she really so selfish, so callous, so un wifely as she appeared ? " ' He's been putting on the screw rather tight lately. He says dollars is scarce, an' there ain't a word of truth in it. Why, everybody knows Seth B. Strong's good for half a million and more. I'll cure him of that. But it's his cruel way of going on that's made me feel so bad.' " * It must be rather hard on Mr. Strong, being left so long,' I observed, flatly. ' Nearly three years, I understood your daughter to say.' " ' Yes ; but if he wants to see us badly, he knows where to find us, I guess. I won't have my girls marry Americans. I'm dead set on everything English.' " ' And hope to see them English peeresses, per- haps,' I said as I rose. "Yes, I grant it was rather rude, but you see the woman aggravated me beyond measure. She did not take it at all amiss. "* Stranger things have happened, and the girls, especially Hannah, would grace any peer that ever lived. You haven't seen Hannah,— she's a beauty, and no mistake.' rii :i AN AMERICAN HEIRESS. 33 " Her garrulous and unsophisticated pride was most amusing. " * Well, really there's very little I can do for you, Mrs. Strong,' I said, reverting to professional themes. *■ I can send you a little tonic if you like, but so far as my judgment goes it is quite superfluous.' " She stared at me rather indignantlv. " Well, I never I that's rich. Do you suppose I sent for yon for that? Why, I'm sick, real sick — sick to death if you like, and I want you to say so in writing, so that 1 can send it to my husband, and show him that it would be certain death to me to leave England.' " * But I can't say anything of the kmd, Mrs. Strong, because as a matter of fact I think you ought to go back to your husband.' " ' I didn't send for you to hear what you thought,' she replied uncourteously. * I heard you were mighty clever, and a woman's doctor, and I thought you'd be on my side. You're a fraud, and I shan't send for you again. A man would see through the thing at once.' " * I see through it very well, Mrs. Strong, but I'm not going to do it,' I replied goodhumouredly. I : :^l Everybody liked him, but nobody thought him brilliant or likely io succeed. " * Good evening : how's the mater ? ' he asked, and I was intimate enough in the house to walk into the librarv unasked. *' ' She's worrying about you, Mr. C.laud. What's this you're about now ? ' " He reddened a little. "*I suppose she's been telling you. Don't you think she might wait till she sees Miss Strong?* " ' Perhaps when she does see her she will relent. I happened to see Miss Strong myself this afternoon. I am certain I have never beheld a more beautiful creature.' " I wish you could have seen the boy's face. It positively shone. " * You have seen her ! ' he cried rapturously. ' Oh, Doctor Glen, won't you put in a word for me ? The mater will do anything in the world for you, and it means just everything to me.' " I promised, and next day I had a little talk with Mrs. Musgrave, which considerably improved her state of mind. Soon after that, when she was convalescent, I had a great rush of serious work, and did not call at Portland Place for a few weeks. •«%, Ay AMERICAN IIEIKLSS. 39 In that time, of course, I had heard or seen nothing of the American ladies in Mandiester Scpiare. " One afternoon, when I returned rather hite from my ronnd, I found the smart, well-appointed Mus- grave carriage at my door, and in tlie liouse Mrs. Musgrave, a trifle im])atiently awaiting my arrival. One glance at her face snfiiced to tell me she was in good health and the iiighest sjnrits. " 'How do you do, you careless, neglectful creature? I might be dead for all you care. Perhaps the day will come when you will find it does not pay to neglect good patients,' she cried merrily. " ' My neglect sits lightly on my conscience when I look at you, Mrs. Musgrave. I have never seen you look better.' " * I am perfectly well, and in good spirits too. Can you guess what I have come to tell you ? — that Claud is engaged to his American star, and that I am proud to be the bearer of the news.' " * If so, I am proud to hear it,' I answered, heartily. •' ' A most perfect creature, and the sweetest nature. I love her already as my own. And not only sweet, but clever and strong and self-reliant. Doctor Glen, she will make the boy, positively make him ; and t m I; I ■ 111! ■■■:i 5 40 MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. her mother tells me her father is a millionaire, and that her dowry will be princely. Here sits the happiest woman in London.' "Her joy, so sincere, so frankly expressed, was infectious. I felt happy too, and told her so. "'How do you get on,' I ventured to inquire, with a little smile — *how do you get on with Mrs. Seth B. Strong?' "Mrs. Musgrave made a little wry mouth. "'She is rather a tough mor^^jl, and I cannot conceive how she can be mother to that perfect creature. The other daughter is passable. She can hold her tongue when necessary, and that is a good deal. The mother cannot. But perhaps,' she added innocently, 'though Hannah becomes Mrs. Claud Musgrave, we need not of necessity see much of Mrs. Seth B. Strong.' "'Perhaps by that time she will be reconciled to St. Paul's, Minnesota,' I answered. " ' What did you do to her. Doctor Glen ? She could annihilate you. We have agreed to differ about you, and your name is never mentioned.' "'If she did not tell you, I need not, dear Mris. Musgrave. I only spoke my mind.' " ' As you do to me on occasion. Well, I hope AN AMERICAN HEIRESS. 41 PC they'll be married before the end of the season, and that you will be their family physician. It seems Mr. Strong is coming over. He decided to come directly the news of the engagement was sent to him. Well, I must positively run. I'm going to pick up Hannah and drive through the Park. She makes a sensation there, I can tell you, and I enjoy it.' "So she fluttered away, and I mused for a little over the odd turn events had taken, little dreaming how soon the shadow of a Pi-rible tragedy was to fall upon this general happiness. One night about six weeks later I was summoned in hot haste to the house of the Strongs in Manchester Square. When I arrived I found there a state of confusion and consternation, and Mrs. Strong in her room in one of the most violent and obstinate fits of hysterics I have ever seen. It took me quite an hour to get her calmed. All the time Hannah, my dear friend's future daughter-in-law, was in the room helping me ; and I could not but admire her self- control, her quick intuition, her womanly helpfulness. All the time I felt that something serious had liappened : the girl's face was ashen-hued, and her eyes full of despair. <^,i I! ! i !: , I ''X ! II; l:i! 42 MRS. KEITH HAMILTON. M.B. " When the violence of the attack passed off, Mrs. Strong was left in a prostrate, almost unconscious state, but I was no longer alarmed about her. When I felt myself able to leave the room, Hannah followed me, and took me convulsively by the arm. '* * If poor mother can be left, may I speak to you a moment ? Have you time ? ' " * Yes, yes, my dear,' I said, pushing open the door of the nearest room, which was the girls' bedroom. " ' Papa came this afternoon. Doctor Glen,' she began in a low, strained kind of voice, * a few days earlier than we expected him, and brought dreadful news. His business is wrecked completely, and he is a bankrupt, and even worse. They are seeking him to prosecute for fraud. I think that was the word he used. Of course it was a terrible shock to mamma, but I cannot think it was right of her to speak to him as she did, upbraiding him for having brought us to beggary, and saying such cruel things. Then papa got angry too, and said it was our extra- vagance that had mined him, and that it was we who ouglit to be punished. Oh, it was a dreadful scene ; and he ran out in the end, banging the door, and saying he would make an end of it, and we do not know wliere to find him.' AN AMERICAN HEIRESS. 43 " Her blanched lips trembled, and her great startled eyes looked despairingly into mine. " * Oh, he will come back, dear girl, and this sad time will be forgotten,' I said, not knowing how to comfort her. "She shook her head. " * I don't think so. I feel that the worst is going to happen to us. Perhaps we deserve it for the false life we have led. I have often felt how cruel we were to poor papa, and now I know it, though mamma always said he didn't care. Some- times I begged to be allowed to go home to him myself, but she would not allow me. All her life mamma has made everybody do just as she likes. And I have been so happy. God help me 1 I thought myself the happiest girl on earth, and now ' "I have never forgotten the sight of the poor girl's anguisb, and my thoughts were bitter against the selfish woman in the adjoining room, who was solely to blame for it all. "I stayed a long time with her, and I could not sleep that night for thinking of the Strongs, and of my friends the Musgraves, who would be so seriously atfected by it. I confess that when I '';! ii ' t' U' ! ' ' I ► 44 MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. reflected on the pride of Mrs. Musgrave I saw but little hope for Hannah Strong. Future developments proved how mistaken I had been in my estimate of Evelyn Musgrave's character, though I had known her long and well. Next day the worst fears of poor Hannah were realised. Her father was found in Regent's Park in the still hours of the morning, dead, with a bullet through his heart. His wife's reproaches, heaped on him in his extremity, had driven him to the last act in that sad tragedy. I hold her to this dav guiltv of his deatli. What did Mrs, Musgrave do? Not what I expected her to do, I assure you. I waited to hear that the engagement was broken off, and that the Seth B. Strongs had retired ignominiously to their own country. But it is the unexpected that always happens. Mrs. Musgrave, who had learned to love the sweet American girl as a daughter, insisted that the engagement should be carried out. " * It is you Claud and I want, my pet,' she said to the amazed girl, ' not your dollars. But we must have you alone.* And I think she was right. They were married after a suitable lapse of time, and though Mrs. Seth B. Strong was permitted to attend tlie marriage, iiilB Mi- as. " HER FATHER WAS FOUND DEAD, I p. 44 li r:i -1 '■! 5; ill '1 AN AMERICAN HEIRESS. 45 she saw her daughter there for the last time before she returned to her own country. "It was as Mrs. Musgrave had said, Claud's wife was the making of him. She brought brains, if not dollars, as her dowry, and she stirred him up to a true estimate of what he owed to his position and his name. Now he is a rising diplomatist, and she is one of the younger leaders of society. Between her and her husband's mother exists adoration pure and simple, and there is not a happier family in England." tl ill -i ill ' 11 1 ■ * If iH J •KW % III. THE SIN OF THURSTON GALE. m. THE SIN OF THURSTON GALE. *|A Christmas story," said Elizabeth, dreamily. " Yes, I tliink I have one, or even two if you want them. I shall call this one ^ The Sin ur Thurston Gale.' " You remember that very hard winter we had a few years ago, when we had frozen pipes and general discomfort for weeks on end ? That was the year I saw the first and last of Thurston Gale." " Man or woman ? " I asked. " Man, and a poor one at that ; at least, he was sadly lacking in qualities you and I are accustomed to admire in the men we know." "Tell me what they are, Elizabeth," I said coaxingly, for it occurred to me that my render^' might like to know what particular qualities in man Doctor Glen most admired. 49 /y^ i : if !»:i '"1,1 50 iW/^6. A'£//// HAMILTON, M.B. " Oh, you know them very well," slie said, rather flij)pantly, as I said, for bo serious a subject. " Honesty, unselfishness, purity and truth — in a word, high religious principle, which guarantees all the rest. The longer I live the more firmly am I convinced that in religious principle we liave the only guarantee of happiness or peace in this world, as well as in the next." " Elizabeth, you have the knack of expressing my thoughts and opinions exactly," I said, with a sigh. " I am quite sure you ought to have been the writer of books, and not 1." " I shouldn't talk nonsense, were I you," observed Elizabeth, severely. " Now listen to Thurston Gale. It is half-past eight. I believe Keith will be home before I finish my narration." *' If he should come, I have no doubt he will listen patiently to its conclusion," I said, settling myself for a delightful evening. We were in the inner portion of the large double drawing-room, and the heavy curtains shut us in. A great log fire blazed and crackled on the hearth, and the candles in two great silver candelabra made a steady radiance over the room. The floor was oak, and uncarpeted, except wherp some priceless THE SIN OF THURSTON GALE. SI prayer rugs made a warm patch of colour. We had a big easy chair each, covered in that beautiful old flowered chintz which seems sacred to country houses. On a little Moorish table between us stood the coffee tray, and Elizabeth filled the cups before she began. " Doctors see a good deal," she observed, looking at me across the diary. "And they learn among other lessons — some of them bitter — to hold their tongues. My conscience troubled me once or twice because I held my tongue about Thurston Gale, but I am glad now, because there is no doubt my silence saved a soul from going down to the pit for ever. " I was very busy that winter, you remember, the water famine and the extreme cold combining to make people generally miserable. I had come in from a long round one afternoon, and when I found a message to go at once to Burton Crescent to see people called Gale, a name quite unfamiliar to me, I felt inclined to pay no heed. But the fear, more or less present with every medical man who feels inclined to shirk such cases, lest a human life may be jeopardised by his carelessness, made me turp out reluctantly. I had not sent the carriage -y [,«;*i|;l m MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. i j '.)' 'I' I sr ; ■; I .i I* . !■' I- b; t: away, and it took rae hi a few minutes to the house. I was not surprised to find it a lodging-house, of a very second-rate order. I was taken up to a poorly- furnished sitting-room, in which a woman sat alone in an untidy dressing-gown, and looking generally the picture of negligence and unloveliness. She was exceedingly plain-looking, a large bony person, with a somewhat freckled face, reddish hair, and light blue eyes. Her age seemed to be about six- and-thirty. " * Are you the patient I have to see ? ' I asked, bluntly. " ' Yes,' she replied, languidly ; * I'm Mrs. Gale : sit down.' " * I haven't time to sit down,' I made answer. * I have more work than I know how to accomplish before night.' " I then proceeded to ask her a few professional questions, and came to a conclusion regarding her state of health. "'You're run down,' 1 said, as I sat down to write a prescription. ' Have you had a good deal to worry you lately ? ' " ' Not more than usual ; but that isn't saying much. I have the misfortune to be married,' THE SIN oP Thurston gale. S3 " * Marriage is not always regarded as a calamity by our sex, Mrs. Gale,' 1 said, looking round rather interestedly ; but lier face gave no sign that she heard me, nor her words when she spoke. " ' To a man who is ashamed of me, who hates the sight of me, and wishes I were dead ; but I'll take care I don't die yet awhile. There isn't much the matter with me, you think ? ' " ' Not much ; but it will be to your advantage, Mrs. Gale, if you adhere to total abstinence principles while you are under my care. I forbid stimulants of every kind ; do you hear ? ' " She nodded languidly. She was a very unlovable, uninteresting-looking person, yet somehow I felt interested in her a good deal. '"Your husband is out all day, I suppose?' I said, as I rose from the table ; * you are left a good deal alone ? ' " ' Yes, he is engaged in newspaper, or rather secretary, work through the day, and he plays in the orchestra at a theatre every evening. He sleeps here, and occasionally dines.' ' " She did not say this querulously, but with a certain slow bitterness which left a painful impression on my mind. I felt inwardly indignant with the 54 MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. i ■ I ■ t,; 1 i ■r\ absent husband, Mr. Thurston Gale, and in spite of many lessons I had had rt,j;arding hasty judg- ments, I formed my own opinion of him there and then. "'You require a little cheerful society. Do you ever go downstairs ? ' I asked. * Sometimes there are very pleasant people whom circumstances compel to live in boarding-honses.' " * Thurston won't let me. He says I must not associate with them, but I do when he isn't in. There's a very jolly little American widow here, and a nice Frenchwoman. I sometimes go with them to a theatre of an evening. I've even been at his theatre. How riled he would be if he knew I * "It seemed useless to make any further remark. The pair were evidently ill-assorted and unhappy, and nothing I could say would be likely to mend matters. I stayed a few minutes longer talking to Mrs. Gale, and left with the impression that she was a vulgar, under-bred, and decidedly un- attractive person. I was glad to banish her from my mind until I had to see her again. I did not call for two days, as I was very busy with much more serious cases. "When I did go back, I found THE SIN or THURST^y GALE. 55 her decidedly worse. She had been drinking a good deal, and had a serious inflammation of the lungs. The American widow, introduced to me as Mrs. Summers, was sitting with her. She was a pretty plump little person, with a perfectly appal- ling capacity for talk. She irritated me to such a degree, I could scarcely be civil to her. You know that officious, fussy way some women have, especially in sick-roo.'ns, always wanting to be mysterious and confidential, and to display all the medical and other knowledge they happen to possess. Such was Mrs. Summers. Mrs. Gale was in bed, and when I went back to the sitting-room Mrs. Summers followed me. I stepped bacTi, and shut the door between. " ' Are you in charge of Mrs. Gale, madam ? ' I inquired. 'Nursing her, I mean?' " ' La, no — well, yes, 1 daresay I am, poor dear, though only for friendship and pity's sake. That Gale ain't worth a cent as a husbaad ; he wants setting right, he does.' ;,. . ' " ' If yoo are nursing her, perhaps you will take a few directions from me,' I said, not encour- aging her to hold forth regarding Mr. Gale. * I absolutely forbid stimulants. Can you undertake that she won't have any ? * ) I 56 MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. t' iPii J .'li' V (i 'V: " Mrs. Summers pursed up her lips and gave a little squeak. " ' Laws, no ; that's one thing T can't do. She'd think nothing of getting up, doctor, and careering across the street for it, into Euston Road as soon's not, with nothing on but a nightgown.' " ' When does Mr. Gale usually come home ? I should very much like to see him.' " ' He's got no hours ; he comes when he likes, an' that ain't often. It's loneliness that's drove the poor thing to it. He reckons himself a gentleman, but if he's a gentleman, save me from such.' "At that moment there was a heavy foot in the passage outside, and the door suddenly opened to admit Mr. Thurston Gale. I must say his appear- ance caused me the most profound surprise. He was a man of about six-and-thirty, and one of the handsomest I have ever seen. Not only that, but high-bred gentleman was stamped on his face and visible in every action. His manners were perfect — just the proper mixture of courtesy and respect. " * I am glad to meet you, Doctor Glen,' he said at once. * How do you find my poor wife to-night?' THE SIN OF THURSTON GALE. 57 "To my great relief, JNIrs. Summers presently slipped out of the room. I con Id see her luu'omfort- able in Thurston Gale's presence, though his manner was perfectly courteous to her. When he closed the door I sat down. He was a man I could talk to, a man of intellect and breeding. The wonder and mystery of his condition and surroundings • lay henvy on my soul. "'Your wife is very ill,' I said at once, looking at him keenly. He half sat on the edge of the table, and met my look. " ' Very much under the influence of drink, do you mean ? ' he asked, with just a touch of sarcasm. " ' I was not particularly referring to that ; she has got a severe touch of inflammation, and 1 think you had better have a nurse.' • " He got up and walked across the floor. Perhaps I imagined that a kind of eager light leaped in his eyes. " * For two reasons,' I continued, ' That she may be attended to for her illness, and watched regarding the drink.' " * I am quite willing to do anything that is neces- sary,' he said. ' Will you make the arrangement, or shall I?' & m I :1iii 11! m ,1. ■: * ll-ll I . i!;i 58 MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. " ' I can do so. One of my own nurses is dis- engaged at present, a capable and reliable woman. She can be here by eight o'clock.' " ' Thank you very mnch,' was all he said. ** * I shall see her before she comes, and she will have all her directions, but I may possibly look in about ten myself. One thing, Mr. Gale : it might be as well, I think, if Mrs. Summers did not come up here very much, at least while Mrs. Gale is so ill. You can say with perfect truth that it is imperative that she should be kept absolutely quiet.' " ' I think you are quite right. I'll see that she doesn't come,' he said, gravely, and I went away. Tlie man's sad face, so full of power and yet lacking something, haunted me till I saw him again. I sent my nurse in, armed with full instructions, and after my consulting hours were over went back to Burton Crescent. " I found my patient much more comfortable, the nurse having created a different atmosphere in the sick-room. She was asleep, so I did not disturb her. I was just about to leave, when Mr. Gale returned from the theatre, off his fine figure to advantage, ai struck by his noble bearing, which His evening dress set agam i'i:. THE SIN OF THURSTON GALE. 59 keeping with his surroundings. I wished he would tell me something about himself, and he did. "'I find Mrs. Gale a good deal easier,' I said, cheerfully. < There is a great deal of comfort in a good nurse.' "*I am much obliged to you. Will she sit up all night, or only part of it ? ' "'She had better remain in the room all night; she can lie down on the couch for an hour or two. Mrs. Gale will probably sleep after the draught she has had. Perhaps to-morrow niglit you could relieve her for an hour or two?' "*Yes, I can easily do that. My work does not take me out very early in ^he morning. I shall be glad to do what I can.' "'It is unfortunate that your wife has to be so much alone. There is no doubt that her loneliness and the lack of any occupation has conduced to her unfortunate failing.' "'I can't help myself,' he answered, briefly. *I am obliged to be out all day at my journalistic work. I am engaged on one of the evening papers, and then the theatre every night. The pay is so beggarly, it takes it all.' "I looked at him straightly, and the words 6o MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, MB. were out of my mouth before 1 could stop them. ' You don't look like a man to do such hack I I t M 1 I work.' 'He smiled drearily. "'You think not? Circumstances are too strong i >r us sometimes. I am the victim of circumstances, and bf a folly colossal enough to reach the heavens. Must you go now ? Perhaps you will let me talk to vQu another time : it is so long since I talked with a lady.' " There was a good deal of pathos in these words, and I felt somewhat drawn to Mr. Thurston Gale, but at tlje same time I had pity for the poor mis- guided creature in the next room, and I did not think he treated her with particular consideration or fairness. In the course of a few days, however, I changed my mind. She continued very ill, and in spite of the vigilance of the nurse, managed to procure drink somehow. Whenever her back was turned she was up aitd out of bed. Once when she had been left for five minutes she got out upon the balcony at the sitting-room window, and it was snowing at the time, and you know what the tem- perature was in Christmas week. In these circum- btances, of course, her illness was likely to be THE SIN OF THURSTON GALE. 6i protracted, and, unless she could be ciiStantly guarded, would probably have a fatal issut. " On this account we had to fall buck on Uie occasional services of Mrs. Summers, and I was positively certain that she supplied her with drink. Poor Mrs. Gale, I learned, had also been in the habit of taking morphia in considerable quantities, and I learned afterwa. is 'at this was also a failing of her friend Mrs. ' imi... 's. I never happened to see Mr. Gale agaia indl the day before Christmas. I called about si - o clock in the evening, and, as there wao no peri.iKiance at his theatre that night, he was sitting, if I may so put it, at his own fireside. I bade him good evening, and went straight to his wife's room. She was very weak, but not visibly worse than she had been in the morning. "'She's been up again to-day, doctor,' said the nurse, in a troubled voice ; ' and look at this.' " She held up two bottles, a small phial containing morphia and an ordinary whisky bottle. " * I think as long as she's so bad 1 must try and do with the sleep I can get while Mr. Gale sits in the night.' " < We had better get a night nurse as well,' 1 replied. ' I'll speak to Mr. Gale.' W\ 6a MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. ¥ I pl^i In' r 1 ■1 tt' H^l 1- P 1 Hi 1.) ** When I went back to the sitting-room he rose and gave me a chair. " * Your wife has been neglected again to-day, Mr. Gale/ I said, rather sharply, for I was much annoyed. ' Have you any objection to another nurse to take night duty?' *" No ; get her at once, by all means, if you think it necessary. Do you find her worse to- night?' " * How can she mend if she gets up and walks about the house ? She went down to the dining- room to-day, I hear, when the boarders were at lunch. I suppose Mrs. Summers had gone down to get hers. And where did she get that morphia?' " ' She's been taking it off and on for the last five years, as well as the whisky,' he said, bitterly. * I have had a nice time of it, I can tell you, humiliated, year in and year out, to the very dust' ** * Was she like that when you married her ? ' I ventured to ask. " ' I was not aware of it,' he replied, briefly. ' It is a long story ; I can't trouble you with it to-night. Jt wap a marriage of gr£^titi;de on my part, She THE SIN OF rHURSlON GALE. 63 helped me out of a hole once in my college days, and I made what return I conld.' " * It was the worst return you conld have made,' 1 said. ' She was evidently unsuitcd to you in every way.' *' ' God knows that's true enongh, yet I did what I could to make her happy. My marriage cut me off from all my relatives. You may possibly have heard of my father, Canon Thurston. I took another name tc hide my degradation, and I hav^e had no communication with them for years. I'm the black sheep of the family. I've never done anything terribly bad ; only wasted, if you know what that means. I'm one of those unlucky wretches that can do a lot of things, none of them well. Every- thing I touch seems to be cursed. I sometimes wish I were dead.' " I could think of nothing to say. The misery and hopelessness of the thing oppressed me vaguely. "'It's long since all semblance of peace between my wife and me has been destroyed. I tried what I could at first to make her happy, but she was never satisfied from the beginning. She was dis- appointed bepause pay people did not receive her. Ill 64 M/x'S. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. n I %\ i;'' ''Mi K % v' m ll!;*M.|l i and when 1 said 1 could not take lier to my home, she went herself to claim their recognition as one of the family. ' " His face became rather pale as he said this, and his clear-cut nostrils dilated. I saw what it cost his pride to tell me all this, and yet he seemed to find in it a certain relief. " ' She went the worse for drink, and made a scene with my mother and sisters. My father wrote me a letter. Heav*^ns 1 the sting of it is with me yet. I found it hard to forgive her, though 1 honestly tried to make no difterence.' " * It is a sad story ; but, Mr. Gale, could your means not permit you to have a home of your own, however small ? It is possible that m the interests of such a home Mrs. Gale might be happier and better in every way.' " * I have tried it twice,' he said : ' do you suppose 1 enjoy this sort of lif«? It is her choice. She finds, so she says, some enjoyment in the society of the people in the house. If they please her, God forbid that I should grudge her such poor solace ! I suffer it mvself on that account.' " I got up to depart, saddened and depressed still more. Oh, what shipwreck people make of THE SIN OF IHURSTON GALE. 65 their lives I I wished I could say something to comfort him, but my lips could frame nothing, I only shook hands with him silently and went awav. " Next morning as I was sitting at breakfast, the Christmas bells making laerry music in the heavy air, a messenger came in hot haste from Burton Crescent. I had given my coachman a holiday, but a hansom took me in a few minutes to the house. I arrived to find Mrs. Gale dead. I was inexpressibly shocked, and surprised as well. " * What's the meaning of this ? ' I said, sharply, to the nurse, who, white-faced and wretched-looking, was putting the room straight. Mr. Gale was nowhere to be seen. " She took up the morphia phial and shook her head. - "'God help us, doctor, there's no doubt the poor thing took her own life, unbeknown to herself.* " ' How did it happen, and when ? How was she left in the night when I expressly for- bade it?' '"She wasn't left. Mr. Gale was sitting with her. I went to bed at half-pjist two, and I uuder- S '^ 'II 66 MBS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. ill stood him to say he fell asleep in his chair. When I left her she was sleeping, and I suppose he thought he might have a doze himself. There is no doubt she got up in the night and helped herself to the morphia. She had the bottle under her pillow ; at least, I've taken it out of there lots of times.' " What could I say ? The thing was done. I was thinking of the certificate as I went downstairs. In the hall I met Mr. Gale. He looked haggard and worn, the picture of despair. Without a word I turned and went back to the sitting-room, he following. " ' This is a dreadful business,' I said, looking at him keenly. A horrible suspicion had seized on me, but there was nothing in his look to encourage or confirm it. " * I suppose you can't certify an ordinary cause ? ' he said, quickly. 'Even for the sake of the peoi e in the house ? ' " ' It is quite impossible,' I said, rather coldly. 'There must be an inquest. There is no doubt there has been culpable carelessness somewhere.' " I said no more ; and I could not see that my words made much impression on him. i- If ^1 ''K h i I'! iiNti THE SIN OF THURSTON GALE. 67 " The inquest was duly held, and the usual verdict returned — '■ Death from an overdose of morphia, but how administered there was no evidence to show.* " Mr. Gale was examined, and he seemed to have stood the examination well, and made a favour- able impression, because no blame or censure was passed on him. " I was just thinking of going to bed on New Year's Eve, after your Scotch dinner party, when Margaret came to see if 1 would speak to Mr. Gale. I was very tired ; it was almost twelve, I was just waiting to see the New Year in, but I said I would see him. I happened to look at the clock as he came in, and noticed that it was a quarter to twelve. I had on my evening frock still, but 1 put on a wrap beio..3 Margaret showed him in. " ' I am sorry to disturb you so late,' he said, with that winning grace of speech and manner which characterised him. * I will not keep you many minutes. What I have to say can be said in a very few words. I have come to make a confession to you. I was not entirely innocent of my wife's death. I was awake when she got up, and MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. I II 1 saw her get out the phial. I could have prevented it if I had wished. Did you suspect as much? I thought you did/ " * The suspicion certainly occurred to me, but only for a second. What tempted you to such a crime, Mr. Gale ? — for it was nothing less.' " ' Who tempts men to every wicked deed ? ' he asked, passionately. ' Why was I evei- born to be a curse to myself and everything 1 touch ? I was to have left England to-morrow for Australia, but accidentally to-day I saw my fatber advertised to preach a New Year's sermon in 8t, Christopher's. An awful longing to see the old mtw again came over me, and I went to the service, to my own undoing. He was thinking of me, I knov/, as he preached, of his own prodigal who had wrung his old heart to breaking, an-l his words went home. I went forth from the pijue convicted of my sin, and I no longer wish to escape its consecjuences. Tell me what to do.' " ' Sit down,' I said hurriedly. * 1 must think for a moment. Sit down.' " He sank heavily into a chair, and I paced up and down the room, praying passionately that God woul4 guide me aright. X looked at the bowed figure THE SIN OF THURSTON GALE. % of the man with a great pity. I thought of his broken and wasted life, of his old white-haired father, of his fair sisters, to whom the exposure would bring such shame. And what, after all, would it avail to rake up that dead and bitter past, which could not be undone ? Suddenly, clear as noontide, I saw my path before me. " * Thurston Gale,' I said, and I laid my hand on his shoulder, *you have trusted me, and asked me what you are to do. God has given me His message to you. To-morrow is the first day of the Npw Year. Go forth to meet it a new man. Let your life atone for the past.' "He sprang up, and drew hip lelf to his full neight. • " ' You say this to me honestly ? You think I dare gj forth among my fello^.^- : len without expiating my sin ? ' "'Nay,' I said sadlv, 'God will claim yoar ex- piation ; but consider low many hearts lie public scandal would rend and break. It can do no good to the dead, and only harm to the living. The thing is pas^ let it lie. God go with you, Thurston Gale, and give you strength to serve Him yet!' 70 MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. I III! ii^^ !G ;! il ];; !l« M'il, m^m hi F ■^^^ : "He pat his hands over his eyes, and two great tears fell from them. " * You are a Christian woman, I believe, and I take the message you have given me. Some day perhaps you may see its fruit.* " I went with him to the door and bade him God-speed, pointing upward to the stars. " I heard from him long after, and in a paper received some months ago I found him being honoured as a successful and public-spirited citizen in a colonial town, and the evidence of that report convinced me that he was a power for good in the locality where he had cast his lot. He wrote at the same time, and told me ^se was expecting a visit from his aged father and his two sisters, and that letter made me weep, though it filled me with joy too. The man takes his happiness humbly and with trembling, memory being swift and keen as a two-edged sword. Do you think I did right, dear, or wrong ? " " Right," I replied rather huskily, for the story had gone to my heart. "Don't you think so, Keith? Was it not a more Christian act to give a worthy citizen to the new world than to add auother to the melancholy band in one of our convict prisons ? " THE SIN OF THURSTON GALE. ;♦ " What does ^ ""y wife say ? " he asked, as he laid his har^d on her head. She drew it down, and laid her cheek against it. " I had a text /or my consolation," she said dreamily. " You remtmber in old Isaiah, * A bruised reed he shall not break, and the smoking flax shall he not quench."* IV. IDA FALCONER'S WEDDING. Ht:i IV. IDA FALCONER'S WEDDING. n head " said HAVE got a new plan in ra Elizabeth to me one day when we had met again in London. " I am really lost for want of some- thing to do." "Dear me, Elizabeth," I replied, with a smile, " most people would think your time very fully oecupied ; indeed, yon were only telling me the other day what an appalling number of social engagements you had." " Yes, but I want to cut them down," said Elizabeth, with a dismal little smile ; " they seem to me to be such a waste of time. It is occupation I want. Besides, I am afraid of getting into the habit of going into society without my husband. I fear that is how it would end, because, you see, Keith is so much engaged at the House. He did not come home this morning till twenty minutes to -.. n - '!;. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) Mr c v.% 1.0 1.1 1.25 ■ 45 ■so 1^ IM Ift^ 12.2 ^U4 :^ 1^ IIIIIM 1.8 1.4 IIIIIM ^^ ^ / eWA^ ' oV ^^' > .>>* ^2 ^ J y /^ Photograpbic Sciences Corporation SJ l\ M O -''h. •^ <* [V 1^. k 6^ 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 6^ 76 MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. li: *' III } "I I' 1 It t 4.1 'I three. I could not help telling him that I wished I had been at his elbow to expedite the business." " Is Mrs. Keith Hamilton about to develop into a New Woman?" I asked, with a smile. " Not exactly," Elizabeth replied ; " but you know it is every day's news that our legislators do waste a good deal of time." " Well, and what about the new scheme ? " 1 asked. For Elizabeth's schemes were always in- teresting, even when not feasible. She threw her own private personality into everything she thought and did, and I, who had known and loved her so long, had an absolute faith in her sincerity always. May was nearing to its close, one of the loveliest Mays we had had in London for many years. It would be impossible for me to describe the glory of the early summer in the parks and gardens, the rich hues of the laburnums and lilacs, the beauty of the sun-gleams through the fresh young leaves, the feeling of joy and happiness and hope in every air that blew. Elizabeth had been in town for three weeks, but I had seen less of her than I wished. Her position as Keith Hamilton's wife, and the mistress of a Belgravian mansion, was very iil|| m IDA FALCONER'S WEDDING. 77 diflfereiit from mine ; the calls upon her time and thoughts almost as varied and unceasing as in the old days, when she and I used to discuss the issues of life in the cosy consulting-room in Rayburn Place. "Well, my new scheme," said Elizabeth. «I want a hospital of my own." "That is rather a large order, Elizabeth," I said. " And what special branch of your profession would you propose it to represent ? " "It must be a women's hospital, of course," she replied, promptly, " for the treatment of all kinds of suffering and diseuse. But I should like to run it on my own lines." "And what are they?" I ventured to ask. " Oh, well, I could not enter into them here ; but do you think that it would be possible for me to carry on such a work, spending as little time as I do in London now ? " "That would altogether depend upon those asso- ciated with you in it. But I do not think, if you will excuse my being so frank, that there is any necessity for a hospital run on new and special lines." Elizabeth looked at me in ratiier » startled way, n MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. It was very seldom that she and I were at variance on any point we discussed, and I even imagined she looked a little hurt. " Do you think, then, that there is sufficient pro- vision in this city for all the suffering and sorrow in it?" she asked, quickly. "Well, it may not be quite adequate to the need; but of this we are certain, because we prove it every day, that the great hos{)itals, provided out of the pockets of the benevolent for the needs and uses of the poor, are taken advantage of shame- lessly on every hand by those who are quite able to pay the fees of a private physician or surgeon." " That is quite true," Elizabeth assented. " But the fact remains that there is still room for more work to be done." " But whv not take an interest in one or other of the existing institutions ? " 1 ventured to inquire. " Your influence and help would go a long way towards increasing the usefulness of any cause to which you might give your attention.'' "Yes, perhaps so, but I am afraid I have too many fads, dear," she replied. '' I should be con- stantly at variance with the managing committees, because I have my own peculiar ideas regarding IDA FALCONER'S WEDDING. 79 the conduct of hospitals. And I do think that there is room for great improvement." "Well, of com-se,"' I replied, "if yon f» el dis- posfd, with Mr. Hamilton's assistance, to spend a large fortune in this special direction, you can do so, Elizabeth. But I think you can be better employed." " How so ? " she asked, eagerly. " When you are so candid in your objections, you must give reasons." " I am quite willing to do so. I really think that you do a great deal of work at home, and that when you come to Londoki now, you ought to content yourself, first, by having a very pleasant time, and secondly, by alljwing your influence to shed its benign light on all with whom you come in contact. While in your sphere as a fashionable lady '' "I an not a fashionable lady," put in Elizabeth, rather iihortlj"^, and pushed her fingers through her bright hair with one of the old characteristic gestures, which warmed my heart. " Well, a woman of position in the fashionable svorld, if you like that better," I said. " You know, as well as I do, that society in its present state sadly i : i; h m I' in 8d MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. lacks such pure-minded, single-hearted women as yourself, and I think it is your positive duty not to pass by the opportunities given you in the sphere to which you are called." We were interrupted at that moment, and nothing more was said on the subject. I did not see Eliza- beth agai" for some weeks, being myself out of town. And when we did meet again, we had a great deal to say to each other of a private and personal nature. I was lunching with her at her own house in Belgrave Square. We were quite alone; and after lunch, in Elizabeth's boudoir, where surely she had gathered everything that could please the eye and satisfy the heart, I referred to the sub- ject of the hospital. " Have you thought anything more about what we were talking of the last time we met ? " I asked. " No," she replied ; " that conversation put an end to it, at once and for ever." " Dear me ! " I said, a little surprised. " Time was when you were not so easily turned aside from any- thing upon which you had set your mind." " Ah, but I am learning, day by day as I go," she replied. "After I went home that night, I had a long talk with Keith, and he being entirely on your IDA FALCONER'S WEDDING. 8l side, I saw that it was useless for rae to hold my own opinion against the wisdom of the two I loved best on earth." Tears rose in my eyes. This imexpected tribute was very sweet to me, for there were times when 1 almost feared that I had lost my friend— not lost her altogether, only the nearness and closeness of the old days seemed to have gone, never to come again. " What have you been doing with yourself, then, . to fill up the hours which you found hung rather heavily on your hands ? " I asked. " I have been studying the men and women around me," she replied. "And I really sent for you to-day for two things— to have the joy of seeing you, and also to tell you a story upon which I want your comment." " There is nothing I should like better than to hear some of your new experiences. It will take me back to the old days when no one had come between you and me." " After such a speech," said Elizabeth, with one of her old flashing glances, "you do not deserve that I should speak another civil word to you to-day. But I am so anxious to hear what you have to say on this special subject that I must exercise a for- 6 82 MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. f '"if B «i ii Wi V' f:i i ihi ;(. 'I Ir :i f '.I M giving spirit. You know, of course, that in the circle of society in which we move, one meets ail sorts and conditions. I have often heard thoughtful and earnest-minded people deploring the state of society, and 1 used to think, j".dging from my own slender experience, that their pessimism was quite exaggerated, even uncalled for. But this is my second season, and I keep my eyes wide open to all that goes on around me. I am compelled to admit that there is too much truth in their gloomy fore-, bodings. It seems to me tiiat nobility of character and personal merit are entirely lost sight of, and that the world is given up to the worship of mam- mon, and all the accessories which wealth can buy. We see, daily, youth and beauty and loving hearts ruthlessly sacrificed on this altar, and the tale I am going to tell you is only one of several which have come under my notice. **You have heard me speak of the Falconers of Falconhurst. You know Mr. Falconer is the Member for shire, and has always had the reputation ot being a very honourable and right-minded man. His wife belongs to an impoverished but well-born family in the North of England ; they are frightfully poor, and she, unfortunately, is a slave to that ambition IDA FALCONER'S WEDDING. 83 which always appears to me to be the very poorest sort, the ambition to rise in the social scale, and to rank, if possible, with the highest. They have two •laughters, lovely creatures, in whom are represented all the hopes of their ambitious mother. I do not think their father troubles his head very much about them. He is a politician born and bred, and has but little interest out of the House ; and yet, although he has done much for his party, they do not appear to have recognised or rewarded him in any special way. " I met the two daughters, Ida and Winifred,' at a luncheon party with their mother, about two months ago, at Lady Clifden's. I conceived at once a strong antipathy, which I have never overcome, towards Mrs. Falconer. But the girls struck me as lively, pleasant, and wholesome characters. To the elder cf the two I felt specially drawn. She had such a sweet, earnest face, lit by large, ques- tioning grey eyes, and her manners were unaffected and sincere. She drew to me also, I could see ; and in order that I might cultivate her acquaintance, I made an engagement with Mrs. Falconer, which would ensure us an early meeting. "I was not disappointed in my estimate of Ida lit' ■I ' /. i I . ■ I !■*';. 84 MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. Falconer. Out of that chance meeting a warm friendship sprang up between us, and I soon dis- covered that beneath that gay, bright exterior there was an aching heart. " One afternoon, when I came in from my drive, I found her waiting for me in the drawing-room. I saw at once that she was in some distress, and had even been in tears. " * My dear child,' I exclaimed, ' what has happened to you ? Tell me, and if I can do anything to help or comfort you, I shall only be too willing.' "*0h, Mrs. Hamilton,' cried the girl— and I shall never forget the look of wistful entreaty she cast upon me — 'there is no one in the wide world can help me, but only you. I know how happy you are, and what a high and sacred idea of married life you hold, and have come to you in great trouble, because mamma wishes to force me into a marriage with a man I cannot respect, much less love.' " I sat down in front of her, prepared to hear her story, interested beyond measure, although it was a story I had heard and seen repeated so often that I had begun to grow a little weary of it. " * Who is the man ? ' I asked, rather abruptly j * do I know him ? * 'MY DEAR CHILD,' 1 EXCLAIMED, 'WHAT HAS HAPPENED XO YOU?'" [p. 84. B :1 P. IDA FALCONER'S WEDDING. 85 "*I don't know. I think you must have seen him : it is Lord Heron.' " * Lord Heron ! ' I almost gasped ; * why, child, he is old enough to be your father, almost your grandfather.' " * Yes, I know, and if even he were a good man But, oh, I feel sure he is not that, and I feel desperate. Oh, it is impossible. I can never be his wife.' " * But surely your father will interfere to prevent this sacrifice ? ' I said quickly. * If he loves you, and yon appeal to him, he will never allow you to be made so wretched for life ? ' "She shook her head rather sadly. " ' You know, Mrs. Hamilton, we are frightfully poor. We are as poor almost for our position as those who can scarcely get bread enough to eat. We live in constant dread of a dishonourable crisis overtaking us ; it is a wretched life. I often envy the women who wait upon us in the house, because they, at least, have a comfortable home, an easy conscience, and no anxiety.' " I did not, for the moment, know what to say. I knew that their mode of life was too common to excite much comment, and that the hollowness and J ! 1 If i' j Wli, '' ' it ^ 'I 1^^ 86 i;/7?5. /f£/r// HAMILTON, M.B. mockery of the place they called home could find a parallel in almost every West-end square. " * Mamma has quite settled it all, and even fixed the date of the wedding. It is to be on the third of July. My trousseau is ordered, and I feel exactly Wkp; a prisoner hemmed in on every side, without the remotest hope of escape.' "*But have you told Lord Heron, dea'* Ida, the state of your feelings towards him ? Surely he will withdraw from a marriage which offers such very poor prospects of happiness.' " ' You do not understand,' she said, feverishly. * Mamma is just like a general, keeping her troops incessantly under her own eye. She never, by any chance, allows us to have a word together; she has spoken for me, and persuaded Lord Heron that I am quite willing to marry him, and that my manner towards him, which I must say might have daunted a much more courageous man, is the outcome of shyness and girlish reticence. Mamma constantly diiis into my ears all that he is doing and will do for us. She says he ' ill take all these dreadful mortgages off Falconhurst, and relieve papa and her from the frightful incubus which has lain upon ihem for so many years. Also that Winnie, under IDA FALCONER'S IVEDD/NG. Jiiy wing, will very probably make one of the matches of next season. She gives me no peace, and I feel so stupefied and dazed that sometimes 1 imagine myself a character in a play which has no reality in it.' " ' On the third of July,' 1 repeated : 'why, child, that is only three weeks from now.' " A little shudder passed through the girl's frame, and the delicate colour faded from her cheek. " ' I shall never live to see it, Mrs. Hamilton. I shall do something desperate before then. Oh, could you, would you, go to mamma, and explain the true state of my feelings ? I am afraid to do so ; I have tried, but she will not listen. She affects to misunderstand me, and tries to turn the subject by directing my thoughts to the glory of my future position, showing me the innumerable and costly gifts which Lord Heron is constantly sending to me. I hate them all, and I will never willingly set my eyes upon them.' " I hesitated for a moment, divided between un- speakable compassion for this new victim at the altar of worldly ambition, and with reluctance to rake upon myself so delicate a mission. One seldom, as you and I well know, gets any thanks in this .J MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. \ \ I n i 'i : it \ ,, liiii'l woFid for meddling with other people's business, and the little I had seen of Mrs. Falconer convinced me that she was a woman who would quickly resent any interference with her family affairs, especially when that interference was likely to clash with her ambitiour- desires. Still, I could not look upon that worn and lovely face, picturing to myself the future which stretched before her, without making one effort, even if it should prove futile, to save her for a happier fate. " ' It is a very hard task you ask me to perform, my dear child,' I said, kindly, 'and I do not know that it v^l be of the least avail, but if you like, for your sa^e, because in the short time I have known you I have learnt tc love you, I will see your mother, and make an api^eal on your behalf.' *' * And when will you come ? Come soon, the sooner the better,' she said, with the same feverish eagerness. ' They are drawing up settlements now, and soon, perhaps, it will be too late. Could yca not come this very day ? ' " * No, I cannot come to-day, but to-morrow I will make p i.oint of seein"; your mother. At wliat hour is she most likelv to be found at home?' i\-\ ii i li' IDA FALCONER'S WEDDING. 89 " * We have some people coming to luncli to-morrow, and I am quite sure that you would find her at home about three o'clock in the after- noon.' "'Very well; I shall be there at three o'clock.' " ' I shall be out ; may I come and wait for you here, dear Mrs. Hamilton ? Oh, I pray God that you may be successful, because I shall never live to go through this dreadful ordeal.' " Of course, I replied at once that she was very welcome to come aid wait for me, and on that under- standing we parted. But I must say 1 did not con- template my experience of the morrow with any great elation. When I told Keith about it, on his return from the House, he seemed extremely reluctant lor me to have anything to do with it. He knew Mrs. Falconer a great deal better than I did, and he assured me I was likely to meet with a very cool reception. But when I impressed upon him the awful anguish of mind from which the poor girl was evidently suffering, he allowed me to have my own way in it.'' " As he does in most other things," I put in. But Elizabeth was too serious to smile. " Next afternoon, at half-]>ast two, I drove to the |i f : m i.'ii ifflt)' 90 MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. it Vf house of the Falconers in Hans Place. Mrs. Falconer was at home, and appeared delighted to see me. I felt very guilty as I sat in her drawing-room, com- pelled to join in the general conversation so long as there were other people in the room. AVatching her keenly, and listening to her talk, I could see that she was highly elated, and had no doubt it was in contemplation of the brilliant alliance her daughter was going to make. After waiting about twenty minutes, and the younger daughter being in the room, I ventured to say to Mrs. Falconer that I should be mncli obliged if she wouhl give me a fe\^ minutes' private conversation. She looked sur- prised, but instantly assented, and conducted me into a small room which she appeared to use as a private sitting-room. I am not at all a nervous woman, as you know, and I have faced many strange and trying situations, but I never felt so much of a coward as at that moment, when facing this heartless woman of the world, knowing the nature of the appeal I was about to make. " ' I have to apologise, Mrs. Falconer, for what I am about to say,' I began, briefly. * I have absolutely no excuse to offer for it, not even the plea of old friendship or long acquaintance ; but I Lrust that ¥ , . 'I IDA FALCONER'S WEDDING. 91 you will at least give me the credit for a single- minded motive, and believe that I would not in- terfere in so private and delicate a matter out of mere curiosity or a desire to pry into the concerns of others.' " She inclined her head courteously, but at the same time kept her eyes keenly fixed on my face, and I saw them even flashing a little. " ' I suppose you have not the slightest idea of what I am about to say ? ' I remarked. " ' My dear Mrs. Hamilton, how could I possibly have any idea ? But, believe me, I am honoured that you should even be interested in a slight degree in me and mine.' " * I have come to speak to you, then,' I continued, bravely, * about your daughter Ida and her marriage with Lord Heron.' "She drew herseK up, and I saw that she was prepared to be on the defensive at once. " * Well ? ' she said, with a stiffness and hauteur which sat very well upon her, but, at the same time, made me feel more aciitely the difficulty of my task. " ' I scarcely need to tell you that she is unhappy. You, her mother, must know it. She came to me i. ■ 1. 1 J, m {• ^\ ! i 1' i 'fi : 92 M;?S. A'^/r// HAMILTON, M.B. yesterday in acnte distress, and told me that her whole heart and soul shrank from the thought cf this unsuitable alliance.' *' * It is an alliance of which any girl and any farailj might be proud,' she said, and though her manner and voice were quiet, I was not deceived. I saw that her anger was rising, and I felt that instead of helping the situation, my well-meant interference might make it even harder for poor Ida. " ' It may be a great alliance from one point of view, Mrs. Falconer,' I said quickly. ' But consider that Lord Heron is an old man, at least ten years older than your own husband. You know, as well as I, that the character he bears is not of the highest — nay, that he has been mixed up with more dis- reputable stories than any man in London. Ida is a mere child ; to tie her for life, or even for a term of years, supposing Lord Heron's life should not be prolonged, is not only cruel, but wicked. There is not for her, in such an ill-sorted marriage, even the remotest ray of hope ; it is impossible that they can be haj'py — their age, and tastes, and habits absolntely forbid it. Think for a moment before you break the child's heart and ruin her life.' I'u. IDA FALCONER'S WEDDING. 93 " 1 know I spoke passionately, for I felt it greatly. I thought of nothing but the anguished white face of Ida Falconer and the imploring tones of her voice when she prayed me to save her. But at the same time I knew perfectly well that my action was unwarrantable, that I had intruded, without the slightest ground except that of common humanity, on a private family affair, and I saw that Mrs. Falconer took this view of it. She looked at me with eyes in which scorn and bitter resentment were mingled. " ' I must absolutely decline,* she said, icily, ' to have any conversation whatever with you upon this question. Yoii have truly said tiiR.t you have not even the right of an old acquaintance to speak to me upon this subject. I have often heard yon spoken of as eccentric, but were I asked for my opinion, I should certainly say that you were not only eccentric, but dangerous.' " So saying, she moved towards the door. " * Mrs. Falconer,' I said, quietly, though my cheeks were aflame at her insulting words, ' in the course of my professional work, before my marriage, it was my sad privilege to see much behind the scenes of family life, and this I could set down, mi I' w h ' H ^/?S. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. that of all the forms of misery and wretchedness which abound in this sad world, there is none more hopeless, more degrading, and more heartbreaking than that of a loveless and unsuitable marriage. I can only implore you once more, because you are a mother, to hesitatt before you sacrifice your child to such a life.' "She swept majestically out by the door, and returned to the drawing-room, leaving me standing on the landing without even having the courtesy to ring for a servant to attend me to the door. I drove back to my own home, feeling that I had indeed only made matters worse. I found poor Ida waiting for me, and although I spared her the full recital of her mother's indignation and heartless words, I told her as gently as I could that my interference had done absolutely no good. I was too unstrung myself to comfort her as I might have done in a calmer mood, and I longed for Keith to come home in order that I might unburden my heart to him. That was the last time I saw Ida Falconer. I heard next day that they had gone out of town, and then I saw it stated about a fortnight later that they had again returned to Hans Place in time for the wedding, which was to IDA FALCONER'S IV E DOING. m take place at St. Peter's on the third of Jnly. Everything was in readiness for it, but it never came off. You have not forgotten that startling paragraph which appeared in a morning paper a few weeks ago, telling how the body of a beautiful and well-dressed young lady was found in the Serpentine, and was identified as that of Miss Ida Falconer. She had gone out for a walk with her dogs, and as one of them was also found drowned, it was supposed that she had lost her life in trying to save him. Of course the usual condoling paragraph appeared, the case being all the sadder as she was to have been married the following day. As I read their fulsome paragraphs expressing so much regret and sympathy, both for her parents and for the bridegroom thus ruthlessly bereaved, I could not help thinking what a mockery it all was, for I knew very well, and so, I felt sure, did Mrs. Falconer, that Ida's sad end was not the result of an accident, but a deliberately premeditated act and I do not blame her. I feel sure that she will be judged very tenderly where she has gone. No, I have not seen Mrs. Falconer since, nor do I wish to. I do not think I could bear to look upon her face, nor to hear her speak. I should have no ( ' SI ''('^ ' '«i 111" I? II i\ 96 MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. -\ hesitation in saying that Ida Falconer was mnrdered, so hemmed in by the stress on her life that she became distracted, and saw no other way of escape. Yes, it has saddened me very much. I often say t_ Keith that I wish we had not come np to this great Babylon, with its whirl of pleasure-seeking and its hollow mockery of all that makes life worth living. I shall be glad when the time comes when we can turn our backs upon it, and go back to our own lovely and quiet home among the hills which seem to reach to heaven." I was silent for a moment when Elizabeth ceased, inexpressibly saddened by the story to which I had listened, and at a loss to think of anything that could comfort her. " You have at least done something already, dearest," I said at length. " By setting a high ideal of married life before poor Ida Falconer, yon made it impossible lor her to accept anything lower." .. "Yes; but what good did it do? Look at the end of it all. I am very much tempted to think that in some respects women of Mrs. Falconer's type have the best of it in this world." But Elizabeth's look belied her words, and IDA FALCONER'S WEDDING. 97 I prayed as I went home that she might be long spared to continue in her new sphere the wholesome, womanly, and Christian work begun in the little home where I learned to love her first V. ON THE BRINK. ' I I m . f. ■ t tliik. V. . ^ 'I ON THE BRINK. n 1 H When I saw Elizabeth again, she was overflowing with enthusiasm over a new project. It was very interesting to me to study my friend in these days, and oftentimes her intense desire to find some useful and satisfying outlet for her energies rebuked me. She was so much in earnest always, and so single-minded in everything she undertook, that I sometimes envied her perennial hopefulness which neither failure nor discouragement could quench. To talk with her, or rather to listen to her, for half an hour was like inhaling a draught of mountain air, which acted like a stimulant. We were on a shopping expedition one morning, and after we left one of the great establishments Elizabeth said to me, quite suddenly, "Don't you think, dear, that shop girls have a very hard time of it ? " " Some of them no donbt liave," I answered . ^i It n ' /) 101 Mil ''ill «!:« 1 ■! i i ■ ■a li i 1 •I 102 MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. " If everybody were as considerate and thoughtful as you, shopping would soon reach the ideal height" "Oh, that is not what I am thinking of. No doubt they have their worries and difficulties in their working lionrs, but in that respect they are no worse off than every one else. 1 an? thinking rather of their lives outside working hours. What can they have to make the time pass pleasantly and profitably?" "Many o" them live at home, Elizabeth, and then they have the usual advantages of family life," I observed. " I grant that ; but wliat of the thousands who don't live at home, who have come up to this Babylon entertaining probably foolish dreams of making a fortune by cue easiest and quickest route ? They have small salaries, and find it difficult to make ends meet. They can only afford a poor lodging, and where do they get that recreation and division whicli is necessary to all workers if they wouM keep themselves fit ? " ' I suppose they uo have diversion of some kind," I aiiswered, vaguely ; "and they are always friendly wit)i each other," W: ON THE BRtNt(. 103 " 1 have been talking with a good many lately," said Elizabeth, soberly. " And the monotony of their lives is simply appalling. I wish I could do something to help. I do want to help so dread- fully." " Didn't you find that they rather resented being talked to ? " I asked, with interest. " I think they do as a rule ; and I am quite sure I admire them for it. After all, what right have you, or I, or anybody to assume a patronising air to any body of workers, and ask prying questions about their concerns ? " I said these words deliberately because, as it happened, they had been written to me by one of the magazine readers, and the rngged if slightly unpalatable truth of them had struck home. Eliza- beth turned round in the carriage, and looked at me in a distinctly pained way. " I cannot think what has come over you lately," she said, in a troubled voice. " You are so lukewarm in any good work, and so anxious to throw cold water about everywhere. What can you mean by it?" " I suppose it is the outcome of experience. I am older cLan you, Elizabeth, and I have seen more, k 104 MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. I. it; in a way, than you have. When I came first to London I felt a great deal like you. I was crammed with all sorts of enthusiasms, and overflowing with schemes for helping everybody. These enthusiasms have gradually cooled down." " But why ? It cannot be that you have found the need diminish. It seems to grow upon me every day." " No," I replied, with a sigh. " But I have found that most people want to be let alone. It is not an unnatural desire after all, Elizabeth. ^.low would you like it if anybody came poking into your business, wanting to know whether your income were sufficient for your needs, and what you did with your leisure ? Wouldn't you feel much inclined to show them the door ? " " 1 don't know ; but I hope I don't poke. Has it ever occurred to yon that I poke, dear — oifensively, I mean ? " She looked at me as wistfully as a child, and I could not help laughing. "My dear child, you couldn't be offensive, even if you tried your hardest. But I am perfectly serious in what 1 am saying, and I have come to the conclusion that it is easier and more satis- ON THE BRINK. »oS factory to help individual cases than to go forth armed with great schemes for the benefit of the public at large. If everybody was conscientious and generous in this matter of individual responsibility, the need, I promise you, would very quickly diminish." " Individual responsibility," repeated Elizabeth, musingly. "I wish you'd define it— as you see it, I mean." " That's easy enough. I can give you a case in point. Once upon a time, before I had the hajjpi- ness of knowing you, we were at a very low ebb financially ; and everything, my husband's career and mine, depended on the funds not failing altogether. At that time, but for the timely aid of some true, tried friends, who gave us money, and never asked for interest or return, we — well. Heaven knows where we should have been — certainly not where we are to-day. We have never forgotten that experience, and God forbid that we should ever feel less grateful than we did then ! It has made us understandingly sympathetic towards others, and we have proved again and again how richly blessed are those who can give a heli)ing hand like that to help themselves. Many hi s -M ; 1 \\ ii:^^^ people try lo- ;ir m ItL >-. It f II; ■ ,1 Mrs. kEITH HAMILTON, M.B. a good man and woman have been lost to the world through the lack of some snch timely assistance." " Yes ; but " " But what ? Out with your great scheme, Elizabeth. I see it is consuming you." " Well, it is. I'd like to found a— what shall 1 call it ? " "Settlement?" I suggested. " Yes, that's the woid — a woman's settlement, a place where working women of all classes can find a suitable home within their means. There would be no charity, you understand ; the thing must be self-supporting or cease to exist. But if if, suc- ceeded; don't you see how satisfactory it would be ? Those who lived in it would not be under any restraint." "But you would need some rules for the conduct of the place, Elizabeth, or what would become of law and order ? " " Please let me finish," said Elizabeth, with dignity. " There would be certain general rules, of course; but in the talks I have had with girls I have learned that their chief objection to the many homes and boarding-houses that exist is their inter- ference with personal liberty." ON niE BRINK. 107 "Then you would allow the latch-key?" "I should." " And you would be prepared for the consequences. Some would abuse that liberty." " I know that ; then they would leave. Of course there must be some committee of reference." " Then I fail to see any difference between your scheme and the many which have failed to supply the want which undoubtedly exists. It comes to this always— the orderly and the sober- minded will never find irksome the light restraints generally imposed ; the others will not brook them." " But don't you think it might be possible to show the flightiest among them the beauty and wisdom of self-restraint, and to interest them in home occupations and in womanly things ? " " it might," I admitted ; but my tone was not hopeful. I saw that Elizabeth was sad and dis- appointed ^ but I could not hide my own opinions and convictions from her. "You would begin on a small scale at first?" I said, inquiringly. " Necessarily. I should take a house in the West End preferably — that is not far from the great S i •A I !* Il tel MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. ;i! centres of business — furnish it prettily, and having decided on the terms and conditions of its home life, let its existence be known." " 1 have no doubt it would be a boon to some. I believe it is worth the trial, Elizabeth," I said, cheerily, for the plan on such a small scale seemed feasible enough. " I'm glad to hear you say that ; then, of course, if any measure of success attended the experiment, it could easily be enlarged." " Very easily. What does Mr. Hamilton say ? " " Oh, he is quite willing, but he does not help me much. Of course a man doesn't understand things, and never can fathom the intense longing a woman has for home and all that makes it dear." " There is one thing you must be sure of, Elizabeth, if you do start your new scheme," I said. " And that is, that you make the house attractive. I mean, as regards its furnishing, table arrangements, and things of that sort. I went to see a new venture lately, and I just thought as I came away that so long as I could pay for a bright room outside, and buy a china cup and m ON THE BRINK. saucer, a decent glass, and a spoon it was possible to polish, I should steer clear of it." " Were the things so awful ? " "They were. The crockerv was about a quarter of an inch thick, and I don't know of what metal the spoons were composed. And you know there is really no excuse for it, because everything can be got so moderately nowadays ; and though a thing happens to be cheap, it need not necessarily be nasty." " No ; I'll remember what you say," observed Elizabeth, thoughtfully ; " and I am filled with becoming gratitude that you condescend to approve of this project of mine. You have thrown cold water on a good many lately. Do you know what I said to Keith the other day, and I hope you'll forgive me for it, and for telling you ? I said I thought that since your baby came you were less inclined to take interest in the larger work for humanity outside." "God forbid that a joy should have such a blighting effect, Elizabeth ! " I exclaimed. " I hope, and I think, you are mistaken." "Perhaps I am," said Elizabeth, with a scarcely perceptible sigh, ^'And anyhow, y \-i I IC MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. i, ' It; ■ II H"' lii time than most for outside thingH. It is only the unemployed, such as I, who can turn their attention to them." We said no more on the subject, but Elizabeth's words, of necessity, caused me a good deal of anxious thought. I had sometimes formerly depre- cated and blamed the selfishness of family lifr, which may have a tendency to be too exclusive and narrow in its aims and interests. Tliat little dig of hers did me good. 1 saw a good deal of her daring the next fortnight, and we were mdefatigable in trying to find a house suitable for the first home of her new experiment. At last we succeeded in finding a large, roomy, convenient house in a central street, though the rent, v.hich ran into three substantial figures, rather appalled me. We had not ourselves got beyond that stage of prosperity which necessitates frequent committees on ways and means, and I was some- times tempted to forget that Mrs. Keith Hamilton's means were practically limitless. Her father's death had given her a very substantial fortune, and her husband was one of the richest landowners in the North. So if she elected to spend freely in this wajr, rather than ift foolish and extravagant enter^ ON THE BRINK, . Ill tainments given for the purpose of gaining notoriety, nobody could blame her. It must not be thought, however, that she shunned social duties or performed them in any niggardly fashion, but the reverse. The dinners and receptions at the Hamilton mansion in Belgrave Scjuare were among the most select and recherchi! of the season, and invitations to them were seldom refused and much coveted. I have heard it said more than once that in Elizabeth's hands lay the power to found one of the most brilliant salons in London, but as yet her ambition did not appear to have awakened in that particular direction. The first thing Elizabeth did after the lease was signed was to put a whole army of workmen in possession to make it a house beautiful within and without. This, of course, meant a considerable delay, and she did not expect it to be ready for occupation until the beginning of winter. Meanwhile she was not losing any time, but doing her utmost to interest in her plan those she hoped to benefit and make happier by it. One afternoon she drove up to my door unex- pectedly, and the moment I saw her I knew she was troubled about something. .a? tf» ^» But Elizabeth seemed too troubled even to smile at this feeble and well-worn joke. \i\ |:l ON THE BRINK. 115 " I thought when she came on Sunday that slie did not seem quite herself, and as we were talking she quite suddenly burst into tears. " ' I'm very miserable, Mrs. Hamilton,' she said, in a low broken voice. ' And I must tell you al)()ut it, at anv cost, and ask your advice, for I am afraid to go on without it/ " I did the best I could to give her courage and confidence, and soon she told me the whole sad story, which gave me a greater shock than anything I have heard for a long time." " Is it a sadder story than poor Ida Falconer's ? " " Yes, I think it is. Of course you know that a girl so beautiful as Lucy Freeman would be sure to attract a good deal of attention : but she always struck me as being a very sensible and prudent girl, who knew liow to take care of herself. I confess I was a good deal surprised when I heard what lengths slie had allowed herself to go with gentlemen. One of the things she told me was that she had been at Ridimond with Lord Heron the very Sunday before poor Ida died." " Then she can't be a good girl," I said, promptly. " Oh, I think she is only foolish ; in fact, now 1 am sure of it. She has allowed herself, however, i^i If ii 'ii I 11 B ii6 MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. to get entangled in a love atfair with a man I know very well, and who is going to be married in a few weeks' time to one of the proudest girls in London, as well as one of the richest. He is a very idle young fellow, and loafs round with his fiancee iTt her shopping — that is how lie first saw Lucy Free- man. 1 don't know, of course, by what means such extraordinary love affairs are begun and carried on, but ii seems to have developed very rapidly between these two. Tlie bride-elect I speak of has a very disagreeable manner towards those she considers her inferiors, and Lucy gave me several instances of her absolute rudeness and unkindness to her which amazed me very much. Indeed, I could hardly imagine a woman witli any pretensions to gentlehood behaving in such a numner. " Lucy herself confessed that it was out of revenge she first encouraged the attentions of the lady's lover. Well, it soon came to evening walks and drives, Sundays out of town, and so on ; and, to make a long story short, Lucy came to tell me she had agreed to elope with Lord Egham to- morrow night." " Lord Egham, who is to marry Miss Clayton- Darrell ? " I exclaimed in amazement. ON THE BRINK. 1'7 "The same," nodded Elizabeth. "I don't like either of theiu much, though I feel sorry for Maud Darrell ; but of course the thing can't go on." " It won't, I suppose, now Lucy has confessed ? " " I don't know. I sliall have to be very wary, and I want your advice. Of course Lucy thinks he will marry her, and is dazzled by the idea of becoming Lady Eghara. I have tried to disabuse her mind of that idea, and 1 think we shall be able to save her." " We must," I said, fervently. " Well, we've got to prove to Lucy that he lias no idea of marriage in his head. She will only believe it if she hoars it from liis own lips." And how are you going to manage that?" Well, I have thought ot a plan. Mind, I would rather have nothing to do with the affair. It is unsavoury, and I shall get no thanks ; but I want to save Lucy, and, if possible, to give her a lesson. This is what I projiose to do. AVrite to Lord Egham asking him to call on me at a certain time to- morrow. I will word it so that curiosity will bring him. Then I shall speak to him straight ©ut about Lucy Freeman, taking care that she will be within earshot. It is ratlier a risky experiment, <( (( « lil v ■ 1 \i.. li ;ll 1!' 1 jli, it' ; ! \m'' s ii8 MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. but nothing else will convince her. I think 1 know my man, and that he will behave exactly as I expect him to do." '' You will make an enemy of him for life, Elizabetli." She shrugged her shoulders, and a fine scorn played about her brave, sweet mouth. " That will not concern me in tlie least. In fact, I shall owe it to myself to drop his acquaintance after to-morrow. 1 only lioj)e that Lucy will be cured, and that she will never forget tlie wholesome lesson of to-morrow to the last day of her life. Do you think my plan feasible ? " " Quite, though risky, as you say. What a woman you are, Elizabeth ! But what is the opinion of Mr. Hamilton?" "You have forgotten he is at Flisk, and there is no time to write. Keith must take me on trust this time, as he has had to do lots of times before. If he disapproves he will only shake his head. Well, shall I do it?" " Yes ; it sounds like a scene from a melodrama. When sliall I hear the result ? " " You can come over if you like, and remain up- stairs. Your presence in the house will be a moral a.te^ !;»;« ON THE BRINK, 119 support to me. If you don't hear anything further from me, I'll expect you to dine to-morrow night at seven. You see I must make the appointment for tlie evening, because Lucy is engaged all day. I shall ask Lord Egham to come at nine." It was with considerable impatience I waited for the di'voucment of Elizabeth s plot. We dined alone together ; but the meal was sometliing of a pretence, for we were both in a state of nervous excitement. After dinner I saw Lucy Freeman for a moment in the drawing-room. Elizabeth had by no means exaggerated her beauty, which was of tlie superb and queenly order. Indeed, I have never seen any one more perfectly planned. I went up to Elizabeth's boudoir before Lord Egham came, and when I heard the hall bell punctually at nine, my heart beat as quickly as if I had had to face the ordeal. After the echoes of the great bell died away, stillness reigned in the house. 1 tried to read, but could not concentrate my attention on anytliing but the clock. It was quite half-past nine before any further sound fell on my ears, and then I distinctly heard the shutting of the hall door. But I was left alone for another half-hour. Then Elizabeth came to me, and I saw by her face that she had been weeping. I ! ii i m M ■; 1 ^li 1 m. n \ i; ... i- ' j ■i !«; m 120 MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. Tears did not come to her readily, as a rule, and these signs told me how great had heen the strain upon her. " Well, it is over ; it was very crnel, but the girl is saved, and more, safeguarded for life," she said at length. "How did he take it?" I asked, breathlessly. *' Precisely as I expected. He was very high- handed at first, resenting my interference most bitterly ; but I think in the end he was rather ashamed of liiniself, especially as I was obliged to threaten him with an exposure to Miss Clayton- Darrell." " Did you bring him to the point you wished ? Did Lucy hear him say he had no thought of mar- riage in his head ? " " She did : that was the whole object of the plot, assuming" that lie intended by jilt Darrell for the sake of the pretty shop girl, and he said a good many things which could not be very pleasant hearing for Lucy, and wliich in a girl of her nature could have but one effect." " And what was the end of it all ? •j» " The end was that Lord Egham departed feeling a little small, and that the trip he ])roT)Osed will not m '■I 1 lir I 111-: SAIU A CiOOU MANV Tlll\i:S WHICH COULD NOT BE VEKV I'LEASANT IIKAIIISI! FOlt I.UCY." [p. 120. i U r, ON THE blilNK. 121 come off. I gave him my promise to say nothing about it to Miss (Uayton-Darrell, and I think he also has got a wholesome lesson.'* "And Lucv?" " She feels very bad, pooi* child ; she will stay here all night, and I think it would be better for lier to leave London, for a time at least. She is filled with shame, and her gratitude is most touch- ing. Oh, my dear, the whole thing has depressed me inexpressibly. I shall be glad when Keith comes home. He at least is a man, not a poor tricked-out sham like Egliam, whose moral sense is blunted and whose ideal of life and its purpose lies down in the dust. I could pity Maud Darrell with all my lieart, but her own moral vision appears to me to bo perverted too. I heard her at Mrs. Maynard's the other day giving forth some opinions on the marriage question which rather startled me, so perhaps Egham will be able to make her tolerably happy. This is tlie third week in July. If Keith won't take me home, I'll go to Flisk myself on the first of August, if Parliament should sit for ever." I understood her well. Her pure, true nature was sick — sick of the shams and sins and sorrows of the world in whicli she moved, and like a bird she beat :it^ I » t23 MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. lier wings ngainst her cage bars, longing for the freedom and freshness and purity of her country home, where, as she often said, " one had room to breathe, and a cha.ice to be good." Yet was I fain to remind lier, as I often did, that it is in the very centres and stronghokls of Satan the battle has to be waged between right and wrong, and that +he true soldier of Christ Jesus must not make too much haste to lay down his arms. I • ■* t VI. A HOME IIEJWTNE. Mi '.s; I. 'A w I I :li VI. A HOME lIEIiOINE. It is an cusy mattor putting workmen in, not so easy to get them out. In spite of [)romises soloinuly made, Elizabetli liatl io go back to Scotland for Christmas, leaving her House Beautiful unfinished. I was commissioned to su})erintend in her absence, and to expedite matters as much as possible. It was February before the Keith Hamiltons returned to Belgrave Sq^uare, and then the house was no more than ready. Elizabeth was delighted with it, and she had brought Marget with her to act as house- keeper, at least until she should find some one else. The years had wrought but little change in the faithful soul, who had followed the fortunes of hfi mistress through many vicissitudes, and whose over- flowing contentment over her final settlement in life was beautiful to see. I suppose it was this absolute freedom from care or anxiety regarding the being 125 ii '' ri II lili ' 1 '1 [ ; ' ,. ' ! ^\ T26 MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. slie SO devotedly worshipped that had made her look years younger. I went out to Belgrave Square on the evening of tlie day they arrived in town, and saw Marget a few minutes before Elizabeth left the dinincr-room. " Why, Marget," I exclaimed, as we shook hands, she not less pleased to see me than I to see her again, " you look years younger. I thought you were never coming back to London again." " So did I, but a body has whiles to change their mind," she observed, discreetly. " What do you think o' this new ploy o' tlie mistress's ? " '' It is only another proof of her kindness of heart, Marget," 1 replied. " And I think it will do some good. There are a great many lonely girls in London who would prize your kind sympathy and care." " Weel, if you approve I'm no sac blate," said Marget ; and I was secretly highly grat'^ed by this unusual and unexpected tribute to my wisdom, wliich I sometimes doubted mvself. " She canna rest, but maun aye be. at wark for ithers. Eh, if only there was a bairn to heir Flisk and Glenspeed," she added, witb an earnestness which brought a lump in my throat. "They come when they're no wantit, an' ^1 A HOME HEROINE. 127 where they dinna get their dues, j)nir Liramies ; but there, if it be the Lord's wull " "There is plenty of time yet, Marget," I said, cheerfully ; and at that moment Elizabeth entered the room, looking lovelier than ever in a yellow tea- gown with a red rose at her throat. " Time for what ? " she asked. " Nothing," said I, laughing, as I kissed her. " Ask nae questions, an' you'll be telt nae lees." "I believe you two are plotting mischief," she said, rather suspiciously. " Well, how do you think Marget is looking?" " Splendidly. I have just been telling her she is renewing her youth." *' We think so too. Well, come down to the smoking-room to Keith, and let us hear all about the house," she said, and carried me away. Next day we made a tour of inspection of the new premises, and Elizabeth was pleased to approve of everything I had done, even to the putting in of the crockery, regarding which I had had cat^te blanche. It was a beautifnl house, tastefully decorated and cosily furnished, with a comfortable home-like look about it, all which was specially pleasing to me, who hated gimcrackery of every sort. I could not I lit' If'i I m I 128 MRS. KEITH HAMILTON^ M.B. mm B i \ help saying that I thought the girl who could not be happy in such a home must be very difficult to please. We had a good deal of discussion about the tariiF, which of course had to be fixed according to some rule ; but in the end everything was settled. Marget in a neat black silk gown and apron started as housekeeper, the guests arrived and Elizabeth's experiment began. The guests in the House Beautiful numbered six at first, but the number soon increased until it reached twenty, which was the limit we could accom- modate without inconvenience. It was simply carried on like a boarding-house, with the exception that an allowance was made for meals not partaken of, ij»rovidod due notice was given. No sort of restraint or supervision was exccised, except as to the time at which the house was closed. Elizabeth wanted the girls to feel as much at home as possible, and to have no sense of being superintended or kept in order. She trusted a good deal to Marget*s kind, motherly way to win the girls' confidence, and she was not mistaken. From the first, however, I felt inclined to trust more to Elizabeth's own personality and influence, which were very strong. She went a good deal in the evenings at first, A HOME HEROINE. 129 lity and often asked me to accompany her, but I was very sparing of my attentions, from my fear of seeming to pry or to be exercising any supervision over the inmates of the House Beautiful. I must say that on the few occasions when I did go I was struck by the pleased and ha])py look of the young ladies, and by their evident appreciation of the efforts Mrs. Hamilton had made to give them at very modest cost a very fair ecpiivalent for a home. Few of them seemed inclined in the cold winter evenings to leave the spacious, cosy drawing-room, where they could either mix with tlieir fellows at games or music or needlework, or sit quietly in a corner with their own thoughts. Among these twenty girls there was of necessity considerable diversity of character, and I sometimes envied Marget her opportunities of studying the same. Her interest in the experiment, the way she threw herself heart and soul into the very spirit of the work, was a lesson to all half-hearted and halting workers. If the thing failed it would be thiough no fault of hers. Elizabeth was on the whole satisfied with her experiment, though it was on a scale much too small to be sufficient outlet for her energies, which were perennially active and insatiable. 9 m I30 MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B. ri\ n ii Of all the girls in the House Beautiful, which was the name by which the unpretending establishment was always called between Elizabeth and me, the one that interested me most, perhaps, was Winifred Pole, who was engaged in a well-known lingerie warehouse, patronised by the highest in the land. She was a very bright, clever little thing, and as she had a very gopd salary, ought to have been particularly well off. But she did not appear to be so. When out of business she dressed very shabbily, pnd never had a penny to spare. Of her h3me and people we knew nothing, but suspected that there was a constant drain upon her somewhere. We often spoke of it to each other, but did not put a single question to Winifred. So long as she paid her board regularly we had no business to pry into her private affairs. But Elizabeth, who was also greatly interested in her, was often anxious, and would have liked very much to have gained her full confidence. But the girl was very reticent re- garding herself, and as respect for such personal reticence was one of the grounds upon vhich Eliza- beth hoped for success, she did not care to ask a single question. At the Easter recess, when the I^eith Hap^iltons had ^one to pay two or three A HOME HEROINE. »3I country visits, I made a point of going at least twice a week to the House Beautiful, chiefly on Marget's account, who did not like to be left too long to her own resources. One evening I ran along after dinner, and was taken to Marget's room, as usual. I did not always go in among the girls. I rather think both Elizabeth and I carried our dread of seeming to supervise almost to a morbid point. But I think still it was the safer side on which to err. Marget was not in her room, but she came to me shortly, looking graver than usual. " I've got one on the sick list, ma'am," she said, with great concern in her voice, — ^" Miss Pole, and she's gey bad. Ye dinna happen to ken exactly what day the mistress will be hame ? " '^ Not before the end of next week, I fear. How long has she been ill ? " " Only since yesterday mornin'. Maybe yeMl ask the doctor to come along the morn ? " " He can come to-night if it is necessary," I replied. " Do you think 1 liad better see Miss Pole?" " { wish ye would, It gies me the nerves when m lil 1 ■; 1 ! 132 MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B i B- there's any o' them ill, especially when the mistress is awa'." " And what do you think is the matter, Marget ? " I asked. " 'Deed, hoo can I tell ? She's very feverish, an' she canna eat a bite, but wad drink, drink for ever. She has a very ill cough, too, and compleens 0' a pain in her chest." " That sounds rather bad, doesn't it, Marget ? " I asked, gravely. "Ay, an' she looks bad, too, ye'll think when ye see her." " Has she got herself very wet any of these days ? " I asked then, for it was the rainiest Easter we had had for years. " Ay, the nicht afore last she was oot till the last meenit. In fact, it was five meenits past eleven when she cam' in, an' I opened the door to her mysel'. She was dreepin' to the skin, an' she hadna a waterproof. In fact, she hasna got ane. I took her things frae her an' dried them, but she has evidently gotten a sutten doon cauld, puir thing ; she hasna much strength to fa' back on." " Are her spirits down ? " . *' They're never very faur up, if ye ask me," she A HOME HEROINE. 133 said, shrewdly. "She's got r uething 011 her mind. I've aye thocbt that she's gotten a trouble o' some kind ootside, an' she's worryiu' ower't the noo. Ye can see it in lier face." " A love affair, do yon mean, Marget ? " I asked ; hnt Marget shook lier head. " No, I dinna think it's that, but I wush ye wad gang up an' see her. Maybe she micht tell you, bein' different frao the like 0' me." I shook my head. "I am quite willing to go up and see her, if she'll let me, Marget ; but it's Mrs. Hamilton we want here to minister to both mind and body." " Ye're no sae bad at it yoursel' as ye wad mak' oot," observed Marget, with one of her kindliest smiles, as she led the way up to the sick-room. Each of the inmates of the House Beautiful had a bedroom to herself ; some of them were not large, because we had liad to run a partition through some of the larger rooms to obtain the requisite number, but we were gratified to find how greatly this con- sideration for personal privacy had been appreciated. They were all painted and papered in light colours, ) !l r\ 134 MJiS. kEITJI HAMILTON, M.B. n \i I m^ and furnished simply, but as prettily as possible. The room in which Winifred Pole lay had a blue paper on the walls, Indian matting on the floor, and a pretty rug before the plain brass and iron bed- stead ; the furniture was only maple, but highly polished, and as clean and sweet as it could be. The whole furnishing of the room had only cost a few pounds, but the result was, I am sure, the best that could be obtained. A bedspread of blue cretonne, with a big design of impossible chrysan- themums on it, seemed to accentuate the paleness of the sick girl's face. It flushed a little, however, at my entrance, but she did not look averse to seemg me. " I am very sorry Mrs. Hamilton is not here to see you, my dear," I said, gently. " I should not intrude, only I see the housekeeper is extremely anxious about you." " Oh, I like very much to see you," she replied, with a ready smile. '' Won't you sit down ? — that is, if you are not afraid I may have a fever. I have never had one, but I feel just as I imagine people must when they have a fever." " My dear, I am a doctor's wife, and such fears are unknown to me," I replied, as I sat down by ; a A tiOME HEROINE. t35 the bed. " But I don't think you have a fever — a feverish cold is more like it. I hear you were out during that terrible rain the other night, and that you came home very wet. Surely that was foolish : you know you are not very strong." Her face flushed suddenly and hotly, and her fingers began to play nervously with the counter- pane. " I could not help it," she said, in a low, troubled voice. " I had to go." " That alters the case," I replied, quickly, and without appearing to notice her confusion. " Well, what you have got to do now is to lie still till you get well. The doctor will come and see you to-morrow morning." " Oh, but I think I must get up to-morrow and go back to business. They are rather hard at our place, and don't keep open a place long." " Oh, but I think they would make an exception in your favour. You have been there a good while, haven't you ? " " Four years nearly ; but if we are longer than a week away, and other help is required, it is deducted from our wages, and I need every penny of mine," she said, in evident distress. f «i6 MUS. KEITH HAMILTON, MM. " If yon like I can go to yonr place of bnsnieHs to-morrow and tell them how ill yon are," 1 sng- gented. " It is impossible yon cp.n go back to bnsiness to morrow. 1 am snre it wonld be as mncli as yonr life is worth." She leaned her head back among her pillows and closed her eves. " Bnt for one thing, I shonldn't mnch mind. I am so tired," she said, wearily, and I saw that her face aged in a moment, and all tlie girlishness and youth died out of it. " You ought not to say that at your age, my dear," I said, quickly. " Is there no way in which I can help yon to a brighter view of life ? I am a good deal older than yon, and there are times wdien the experience of another can help us." She opened her eyes then, and flaslied them with a very straight, steady, inquiring look on my face, seeming to ask how far I might be trnsted, and whether she should accept me at my own valuation. " I think I could tell you, and it would be a relief," she said, unexpectedly. " Bnt perhaps you wonld not care to hear." w A HOME HEROINE. •37 "Indeed I should," 1 replied, as earnestly and conviiu'iiijfly as 1 could. *' Well, I innst l)e