IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

I.I

1.25

|Z8

1^ 1^

2.5
2.2

1.4 mil 1.6

^ li& 12.0

III

Photographic

Sciences
Corporation

23 WIST MAIN STMET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 145S0

(716) •72-4S03

<^ ^^

^.^.

Vie'

4!^

4i.

CIHM/ICMH

Microfiche

Series.

CIHM/ICIVIH
Collection de
microfiches.

Canadian Institute for Historical Microraproductions / Institut Canadian de microreprodiictions historiques

6^^

Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques et bibliographiques

The
tot

The Institute has attempted to obtain the best
original copy available for filming. Features of this
cony which may be bibliographically unique,
which may alter any of the images in the
reproduction, or which may significantly change
the usual method of filming, are checked below.

D
D

Coloured covers/
Couverture de couleur

I I Covers damaged/

Couverture endommagde

Covers restored and/or laminated/
Couverture restaur^ et/ou pelliculie

Cover title missing/

Le titre de couverture manque

Coloured maps/

Cartes gdographiques en couleur

□ Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/
Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire)

I I Coloured plates and/or illustrattons/

Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur

Bound with other material/
Relii avec d'autres documents

Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion
along interior margin/

La re liure serr6e peut causer de I'ombre ou de la
distortion le long de la marge int^rieure

Blank leaves added during restoration may
appear within the text. Whenever possible, these
have been omitted from filming/
11 se peut que certaines pages blanches ajouties
lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte,
mais, lorsque cela 6tait possible, ces pages n'ont
pas 6ti fiimies.

Additional comments:/
Commentaires supplimentaires;

L'Institut a microfilm^ le meilleur exemplaire
qu'il lui a M possible de se procurer. Les details
de cet exemplaire C|Ui sont peut-6tre uniques du
point de vue bibliographique. qui peuvent modifier
une image reproduite. ou qui peuvent exiger une
modification dans la m^thode normale de filmage
sont indiquis ci-dessous.

I I Coloured pages/

Pages de couleur

Pages damaged/
Pages endommagdes

□ Pages restored and/or laminated/
Pages restaurdes et/ou peliiculdes

Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/
Pages d^colordes, tachetdes ou piqui

The
poa
oft
flirt

Ori]
beg
the
sior
oth(
first
sior
oril

piqudes

Pages ddtachdes

Showthrough/
Transparence

Quality of pri«i

Quality inigale de I'impression

Includes supplementary materii
Comprend du materiel supplimentaire

Only edition available/
Seule Edition disponible

I I Pages detached/

[~7] Showthrough/

I I Quality of print varies/

I I Includes supplementary material/

I I Only edition available/

The
shai
TIN
whi

Mai
diffi
enti
beg
righ
reqi
met

Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata
slips, lissues. etc., have been refiimed to
ensure the best possible image/
Les pages totalement ou partiellement
obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une pelure,
etc., ont M film^es d nouveau de fapon &
obtenir la meilleure image possible.

This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/

Ce document est filmA au taux de reduction indiquA ci-dessous.

10X 14X 18X 22X

26X

30X

12X

16X

20X

24X

28X

32X

Stalls
i du
lodifier
r une
Image

The copy filmed har* has baan raproducad thanks
to tha ganarosity of:

Library

Trent University, Peterborough

Tha imagas appearing hara ara tha bast quality
possibia considaring tha condition and lagibility
of tha original copy and in kaaping with iha
filming contract spacif icationa.

L'axamplaira f iimi fut raproduit grAce it la
gtnArositi da:

Library

Trent University, Peterborough

Las imayss suivantas ont 6t6 reproduitas avec le
plus grand soin. compta tanu da la condition at
da la nattat* da l'axamplaira film*, et an
conformity avac las conditions du contrat da
filmaga.

Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed
beginning with the front cover and ending on
the last page with a printed or Illustrated impres-
sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All
other original copies ara filmed beginning on the
first page with a printed or illustrated imprea-
sion, and ending on the laat page with a printed
or illustrated impression.

Les exemplairas originaux dont la couvanure en
papier est imprimte sont filmis en commen^ant
par le premier plat et en tarminant soit par la
darnlAre page qui comporta una empreinte
d'imprassion ou d'illustration. soit par la second
plat, salon la cas. Tous las autres exemplairas
originaux sont filmte en commenpant par la
premiere page qui comporta una empreinte
d'imprassion ou d'illustration et en terminant par
la darnlAre page qui comporte una telle
empreinte.

The last recorded frame on each microfiche
shall contain tha symbol — ^> (meaning "CON-
TINUED"), or tha symbol V (meaning "END"),
whichever appiiaa.

Un das symbolas suivants apparaftra sur la
darniira image de cheque microfiche, selon le
cas: la symbola -^> signifie 'A SUIVRE ". le
symbols V signifie "FiN".

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

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

I?.'

i
i

FvontUpiece.] " i opened the carbiage doob and jumped odt." [p. 282.

I an;

.. Mil

'"' :')/^ f

3 ;«/?/■

KfriOS

X '',(■>

' !

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.

AT HER GATES .

rAoc

II.

AN AMERICAN HEIRESS

. 25

III.

THE SIN OF THURSTON GALE

. 49

IV.

IDA falconer's wedding 75

ON THE BRINK

. 101

VI.

A HOME HEROINE

. 125

\^'

foV^''

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

AN ADOPTED CHILD

, . ; . 253

>AOE

it t

205

'^29

253

^T HER GATES.

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

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

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.

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON. M.B.

i .1

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 ? "

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON. M.B.

" 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."

'ii!

/ir ItEK GATES.

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."

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.

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

$$'

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.

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

■\ \

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 ? " <aid the
old farmer, sourly.

Elizabeth made no reply for a moment or so. I
was waiting for her to explain that there had been at
least some little difference between poor Jf.anie and
her husband, but she never said a word.

" Well, what's to be done, Mr. Falconer ? " she
said presently. "Am I to go back and tell poor
Jeanie that she must return to Edinburgh to-
morrow ? "

" It wad serve her richt," he said, dourly ; but I,
who knew his kind well, detected relenting in his voice.

" Where's the cottage where Mrs. Falconer is
nursing? I think I'll go and see what she says
about it," said Elizabeth then.

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

I I

" Ye needna fash. I'll yoke an' gang up to Flisk
for the lass, although it's sair against the grain ;
but she canna hide here mair than a nicht. I gied
her my mind this efternnne. I'll nt 7er forgie her :
it's jist to save you bother, mem. She had nae
business to intrude upon you."

Elizabeth went up to the old man and laid her
hand on his arm, looking at him with those deep,
sweet eyes of hers, whose appeal few could resist.

" The father's heart is speaking now, Mr. Falconer,
and you are thinking of the days when Jeanie pu'd
the gowans on the roadside and said her prayers at
hei mother's knee. She is not less your bairn than
she was then. Deal with her as we all pray God
will deal with us for our rebellion and disobedience
to His will."

" Maybe I've been ower hard," he said, almost in
a whisper. " But she was my idol, an' a broken
idol's sair to thole."

*^ Jeanie's heart is full of love and of sorrow for
all she has done, She will make it up to you,
and her mother will sleep to-night, I know, as she
has not slept since Jeanie ran away."

" Maybe you're richt," he said. " Weel, X'U yoke
an' gang ower/'

AT HER GATES. 19

" At once ? " said Elizabeth, anxiously. " We're
going on to Port Ellon, but we'll meet you coming
back."

"Yes, I'll gang the noo."

He went away out with speed, not deeming it
jecessary to say a word of thanks to the laird's wife
for the trouble she had taken. Gratitude, I found,
was in the hearts of these plain folks, but seldom
on their lips.

" You didn't tell him that Jeanie had run away
from her husband, Elizabeth," I said, as we walked
out to the trap.

" No, it is long since I learned to be as wise as a
serpent and as harmless as a dove when dealing
with family matters," she replied, soberly. " Besides,
she hasn't run away ; she's going back if he doesn't
come to fetch her."

We climbed to our places and drove off rapidly
along the bare road on the moor edge, and presently
we saw the sea. It was very grey and cold looking,
but its wideness did not fail to satisfy ; there is no
mood of my nature which the sea cannot soothe and
satisfy. Port Ellon, a little fishing hamlet, lay
scattered between two headlands, and was well
sheltered op either side. It was a picturesque little

!i' f

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B,

spot, wifch sncli yellow sands and sheltered crannies
among the rocks, that I wonder it has not been over-
ran long ago.

" There's the hospital — look, just behind the church.
We need not drive up to inspect it, or we shall be
late for dinner. You see it is going to be a very fair
building. I supervised the plans myself, and it will
be a model. I often say to Keith they'll come from
far and near to see it."

"And will you be a visiting physician?" I asked.

" Why, yes, that's the object of it. What's the
use of everything — my London M.B., for instance, of
which I'm so proud — if I can't do that much ? I'm
quite looking forward to it, but Keith won't let me
spend a penny on it. It's his, every stone and brick,
but it'll be mine when it's done. Don't you think I
have a devoted husband, dear ? "

I did not say what I thought, that these two,
united in heart and in purpose, had but one desire —
to serve their day and generation to the very best of
their ability. And I thanked God for high position
and great wealth so humbly and graciously used, for
lives devoted to the Master's service. But I grudged
them to their quiet home, where the need was less
^reat than in the city where Elizabeth bad laboured

AT HER GATES,

■if

SO faithfully and with such signal success. We were
rather quiet as we drove back, and about a quarter of
a mile past the Mains we met the gig with Jeanie
and her father in it.

Elizabeth did not st^p, only waved her hand and
cried cheerily, " I'll come along to-morrow morning."

" It's all right," she said in a satisfied voice ; " he's
given in : that was the hard bit. Now he won't know
what to do to make up to Jeanie for being hard on
her this afternoon. Oh, my dear, what would I not
give to be sitting beside my dear old dad ! — to think
he should only have lived a month after I came to
Flisk, and I looking forward to years by his side ;
but I'm thankful he lived to see me Keith's wife.
I shall never forget his face the day we came home.
He looked just like Simeon, and I know he was
saying in his heart, ' Lord, now lettest Thou Thy
servant depart in peace.' When he died he told me
lie had not a single wish on earth unfulfilled."

"Not many can say that, Elizabeth."

"Not many lived like him, an Israelite indeed,
without guile. God gives such a special bene-
diction. Did I tell you, dear, that Keith was dining
out to-night ? — a bachelors' dinner at Corrybreck.
We'll have a dip into that old diary to-night,"

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, MM.

15 'HI
■I ,

1^ H I

And we had, and Elizabeth said she wonld allow
nae to take as many pageij from it as I liked. But
1 said I would lather take the stories down from
bet lips, for I felt sure my readers wanted to hear
her speak again.

Next morning, as we walked in the grounds near
the lodge gates a hired fly drove rapidly down the
road.

" Do you know who that is, dear ? *' she said with
a satisfied nod. "It's Tom Gilchrist, the artist.
He's going to <^Le Mains now, and it'll be all made
up. I guessed how it would be. How foolish these
young people are, and how they play with their life's
happiness as if it were a game at marbles ! "

" I know somebody else who played with her life's
happiness," I said severely, " and who nearly wrecked
it too." ^

** Suppose we go back to the house, dear," said
Elizabeth, demurely, "and see what Keith is going
to do for our amusement this lovely day."

; i

vi 1 :i

II.

AN AMERICAN HEIRESS.

tir

II.

AN AMERICAN HEIRESS,

" I ONCE had a very curioas experience with a family
of Americans in London," said Elizabeth one after-
noon, when we were disenssing various national tiaits.
" Perhaps you would like to hear it."

" I certainly should," I replied readily. " Did I
ever tell you how favourably I was impressed with
the American women I met in their own country ? "

" I am not sure, but I am rather glad to hear it,
and a little surprised ; but I believe it is true that
it is the globe-trotters we chiefly see here, and they
are pretty often objectionable. This family an ed
me very much, when they did not disgust and iirita^o

me.

" Birds of passage in a hotel, I suppose ? **
" Well, no ; they lived in London for th« time
being, the women of the family at least; th^y jented
a furnished house iu Manchester Square."

«5

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

I
i

ill

;• '!

" What was their object — * husband hunting ' ? "
I Sciid, haphazard*

Ehzabeth laughed.

" I believe you have hit it; but I had better begin
at the beginning and tell you the whole story, though
I warn you that it is not only an absurd, but a
highly improbable tale all through."

" Go on," I said, calmly. " Your stories are
always readable. Think how every one delights in
real experiences."

" Do they ? " inquired Elizabeth, innocently. " I'm
sure 1 for one enjoy my own experiences immensely."

" You were ever a greater favourite than Margaret
Grainger, and had to be revived sooner or later.
There is no doubt the charm lies in the individual.
Anybody would prefer listening to a young and
beautiful doctor, rather than to a middle-aged
schoolmistress."

" I am middle-aged, dearest," observed Elizabeth,
without a shade of banter, but with a quite audible
sigh. "Thirty-five the other day. I grudge these
empty years that have gone."

" Empty ! " I cried, indignantly. " Elizabeth Glen,
how dare you ? Empty, and that fat diary on your
lap, and u th...isand hearts over the border cherish-

JN AMERICAN tJ£lRES3.

I bay again,

ing your name as that of a saint,
how dare yon?"

" Keep calm. I was looking at my age, my child,
from one particular point of view."

"Mrs. Keith Hamilton's?"

She nodded.

" But you don't look a day more than twenty-
five, and you know that Keith thinks so. He told
me so the other day, bemoaning his own grey hairs.
What an absiird couple you are I If you had as
much to do as I and mine have, you would have no
time to trouble about each other's appearance."

Elizabeth smiled an aggravating smile, and watched
through the window the flight of a swallow, the
first we had seen.

" One swallow does not make a summer," she
observed, irrelevantly. " Well, do ^on want to hear
the tale of three American women and one American
man ? "

" Yes," I said, meekly. " Please to go on."

" It was at Easter, an early and particularly lovely
Easter, that I first made the acquaintance of Mrs.
Seth B. Strong and her two daughters. I found
a message from the house in Manchester Square
one afternoon when I came in from my round, and

lii I

* I fl !

I'!

i )

il ii/i?s. /!r£:/r// Hamilton, m.b.

drove there at once. I was shown up to a large
and well-furnished drawing-room, where I was left
a much longer time than was agreeable to me, but
finally a young lady entered the room. She was
petite of figure, and her face was interesting, being
regularly featured and lit by a pair of almond-
shaped eyes of great softness and beauty. She was
prettily dressed in a well-hung tan-coloured skirt,
a plaid blouse, and an antique silver wtbist-belt.
She wore her hair hij^h, as if to increase her height,
and at first sight, with her clear brown skin and
dark eyes, might have passed for an Italian or JEt
Spaniard.

" * Good afternoon, doctor,' she said, pronouncing
my title as if it were spelt with a broad *a' in
the first syllable, and leaving no doubt as to jer
nationality. ' Very good of you to come so quick.
It's ma who wants you ; she's real sick ; been all
day.'

" ' Yes; well, I can see her, I suppose ?'
" < Why, yes, in a minute. Hannah, that's my
sister, is just making her a bit smart. Did they
leave the name right ? Ma's Mrs. Seth B. Strong,
of St. Paul's, Minnesota. I'm Minnie, and Hannah's
my elder sister.* '

tk---

AN AMERICAN HEIRESS.

" • VA'^/fw to England ? ' I said, sitting down again
till I>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.

ill

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.

" * 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 ? '

i\i

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

AN AMERICAN HEIRESS.

" 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 suppose I may wish you good afternoon.'

i I

iiil

'II

I" ill

ii.H

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B,

" For answer she I'fted a silver handbell on the
table by her bed, and rang it violently. Immediately
a young lady entered the room, her elder daughter,
I supposed, but she did not introduce me. She was
certainly one of the loveliest creatures I have ever
seen, and might have belonged, so far as grace and
aristocratic bearing were concerned, to the highest
in the land.

" ' Show Dr. Glen down, Hannah, or ring for the
girl, and I guess she won't come back.'

" Hannah Strong slightly elevated her eyebrows,
but being evidently less talkative than her mother
and sister, made no remark whatever, and showed
me politely to the top of the stairs. Curious ex-
perience, wasn't it ? and could you conceive of a
situation more absurd ?

" But I had not heard the last of the Strongs by
any means. That very evening, as I was paying
my evening visit to a house in Portland Place,
where there was a serious case of pneumonia, I
heard the name of Strong mentioned. You have
heard me speak of the Claud Musgraves, haven't
you?"

"Yes, and have met Mrs. Musgrave at your
house." - ■

AN AMERICAN HEIRESS.

" Oh, well, you don't need me to tell you much
about them. They have always been i)oor, of course,
as most younger branches are; and they harassed
themselves trying to live as if they were rich,
entertaining even in the most lavish style at Portland
Place in the season. I knew Mrs. Mu^jgrtwe very v;ell,
and often attended her, for the harassing anxiety of
her life was too severe a strain on her nervous system,
and she collapsed always two or three times in the
season. Though she was an out-and-out woman of
the world, I liked her very much. She was frank
and sincere, and had the kindest heart in the world.
Often I used to try to reason with her, pointing out
that a quiet life at their sweet little place in Sussex
would be much better for her than the constant
excitement in which she lived and moved and had
her being.

" * My dear doctor,' she would say, with her gay,
coaxing little smile, ^you may hold your tongue. I
could no more spend my life at Musgrave Place
than I could fly ; besides, I have the boy to think of.'

"Considering that the boy was five-and-twenty,
and had never entertained a serious thought in his
life, I generally at this juncture took her advice and
held my tongue.

1 1

I m

ml^-

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

" She had caught cold at an evening crush, and
was really seriously ill. I found her that night
even more fevered than she had been in the morning,
and was not surprised to hear that something was
worrying her. When her maid left the room for a
moment, she turned eagerly to me.

" * Doctor Glen, you must get me well at once,
for I'm worried to death nearly.'

" ' Well, I'm doing my best, and I was (j[uite pleased
with you this morning. What have you been doing
to yourself to-day ! '

" * I ? nothing. It's Claud : he's raving about a
new girl, a dreadful American creature he met some-
where— T believe at Lady Casselrode's, the other
night ; you know what a heterogeneous collection
she gathers under her roof, and I must get up to look
after him.'

" * Is she an American heiress ? ' I inquired.

" * Oh, I don't know. Claud says she is — that
Betty Casselrode told him so. They've a house in
Manchester Square, it seems.'

" * In Manchester Square,' I repeated. * What's
their name ? ' ■ .

" * Oh, I don't know — didn't inquire. But, my
dearest doctor, I must get up to nip this thing

AN AMERICAN HEIRESS.

in the bud. We're poor enough, Heaven knows,
but we're not going to bolster up Musgrave poverty
and pride with American dollars.'

" * Many do, who count their escutcheons as fair
as that of the Musgraves,' said I, admiring her for
her pluck and her good old family pride.

" * That may be, but my dear husband would turn
in his grave at the very thought of it. If there
was one thing he hated on earth, it was America
and everything pertaining to it.'

"*Well, my dear Mrs. Musgrave, if you want to
get well, and go on this new warpath, you must
not worry, so long as you are obliged to lie still ;
and if you dare to rise before I give you leave, I
shall not be answerable for the consequences.'

" ' And in the meantime Claud will go and get
himself engnged to this impossible creature, and
then death will be preferable.'

"It was no use to reason with her, and I was
rather perplexed as I went downstairs. It therefore
was a relief to me when the library door opened
and Cli-ud looked out. He was five-and -twenty, as
I said, but I never thought of h.'m as other than
a boy. He was decidedly good-looking, but there
was not mucli strength of character in his face.

r''

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.li.

IS • '

II !>

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.

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

I; I ■

111!

■■■:i 5

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.

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!

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.

" 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'

! '

' I ►

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

r:i

-1

'■!

ill

AN AMERICAN HEIRESS.

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."

ill

-i

ill

' 11

1 ■ * If

•KW

III.

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.

/y^

!»:i

'"1,1

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.

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

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

i j

'.)'

'I'

; ■; I .i

I* .

!■'

I-

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.

" * 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

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

i ■

■ t,;

■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.

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

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

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.

"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?'

:1iii

11!

,1. ■: *

ll-ll

I .

i!;i

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.

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

MRS.

KEITH

HAMILTON,

MB.

were

out

mouth

before

1 could

stop

them.

' You

don't

look like

a man

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.

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.'

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

¥ I

pl^i

In'

■1 tt'

H^l

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.

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

M/x'S. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

i;''

''Mi

v'
m

ll!;*M.|l

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.

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-

'II

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.

^1 ''K

h
i

I'!

iiNti

THE SIN OF THURSTON GALE.

" 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!'

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

III!

ii^^

!G ;!

il ];;

!l«

M'il,

m^m

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.

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)

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

Photograpbic

Sciences
Corporation

-''h.

•^ <*

1^.

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716) 872-4503

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

li:

III

}

"I I'

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||

IDA FALCONER'S WEDDING.

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,

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.

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' in

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.

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-

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

'"if

B «i ii
Wi V'

f:i

ihi

;(. 'I

Ir :i

f '.I

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.

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

. ■

!■*';.

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

IDA FALCONER'S WEDDING.

"*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

! 1

i' j

Wli, '' ' it

^ 'I
1^^

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

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

\ \

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\-\

i li'

IDA FALCONER'S WEDDING.

" * 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 :

i.'ii

ifflt)'

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.

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,

{•

! i

1' i

'fi

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.

" 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,

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.

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?

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.

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

ON THE BRINK.

' I

. f. ■ t

tliik.

. ^

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

«!:«

■!
i

■

■a

•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,"

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,

104

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

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

s -M

; 1 \\

ii:^^^

people

try

lo-

;ir

ItL

>-.

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

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

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»

^<w

i .H

l"
• li

n'^

; I

;i2

^/?S. A'£/7// HAMILTON, M.B.

"Can you listen to a story?" she said, abruptly.
** I think I know how to act, but it is just as well
to take counsel, and you are generally pretty safe,
if you are a trifle over-cautious at times for my
taste."

" Really, Elizabeth, you are what you yourself
would call brutally frank to me in these days," 1
said, laughing. " But what is your story ? Some-
thing that troubles you a good deal, if your face
is still the mirror it used to be."

" Yes, I am fearfully troubled, because there is
a good deal at stake. You know I have been seeing
a good deal of business girls lately, trying to
cultivate their acquaints) uce with a view to the
future ; and oh, how right you were abou. them !
They mostly do want to be let alone."

"But they will feel differently, and act Mfferently
too, after they know you, dear," I said quickly, for
I saw that my friend's heart was a little sore.

" Yes, yes ; I'm not complaining, and I have
made some very good, staunch friends among them.
A dozen at least have promised to come into my
House Beautiful whenever it is ready for them. It
is about one of them I want to speak to you —
Jjucy Freeman. She is engaged a,t a very fashionable

' ^ ' ^'. '■t r. - -t?. -

ON rHE BRINK.

i»3

the

business house, in the showroom. I only wish yon
could see her. She is simply lovely— face, figure,
manner, everything j)ert'ect. Perhaps it would be
better for her were she less attnictive.

" She is a very nice girl," she ctmtiinied, after a
brief hesitation, "but extravagant in her ideas and
too fond of dress. "What she spends on it would
simply apjal you. She has a very good salary, for
of course she is worth it ; but though she can buy
her things at first cost, she spends it nearly all in
that way."

"She would not probably care to be an inmate of
the House Beautiful, 1 fear."

Elizabeth shook her head.

" No ; and I don't think I should wish it. She
is generally far better dressed, and certainly looks
much more imposing than I do. Her example
would be very bad for those who could not aflford
to imitate her. She came to tea with me on Sundav.
wearing a sealskin coat that was never bought at
fifty guineas, and I am sure Dawson thought she
was somebody very special by the way he ushered
her in. You know Dawson's degrees of manner;
they serve as a kind of social thermometer."

I laughed at this apt summing up of the Keitli

\ !!!

K i

\u:. i\

ll!

'\V\

,! :i

Wi»ti,

114 MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

Hamilton retainer, whose idiosyncrasies iiad Jong
been a secret amusement to me.

*' Love of dress is a perfect passion with her —
she is enslaved by it ; and she becomes so exquisitely
everything she wears, it is impossible to be very
angry with her."

" Has she any people ? " I asked, with interest.

" A father and mother in the country ; he is head
gardener to a Gloucestershire squire. Lucy lives
in a very plain lodging off Edgware Road, and
stints herself in everything but dress. I believe it
is that foolish passion, and nothing else, that has
got her into the sad scrape she is in now."

" She is in a scrape, then ? "

" Yes ; but I think I can get her out of it. She
has told me about it, and that is half the battle.
When a thing is confessed, it is at least half repented
of; you may be bare of that."

" Yes ; pray go on, Elizabeth : you always make
vour introductions so interesting, one has hardlv
patience to wait for the story. I only wonder you
have not cut the ground from under my feet long

ago

>»

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

'ii

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!'

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 !

m
M

■; 1
^li 1

n \

i; ... i- ' j

■i

!«;

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

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

'■I 1

lir

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.

• ■* t

VI.

A HOME IIEJWTNE.

'.s;

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

'' ri

lili

' 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'

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

lit'

If'i

128

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON^ M.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.

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

lil

1 ■; 1 !

132

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B

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,

)

134

MJiS. kEITJI HAMILTON, M.B.

\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.

«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."

A HOME HEROINE.

•37

"Indeed I should," 1 replied, as earnestly and
conviiu'iiijfly as 1 could.

*' Well, I innst l)e<i:iii at the heu^inniiijj:, and tell
you that 1 was born in th«' East End of London,
awav down Stratford wav, where mv father was
a clertjvman."

" He is dead, I suppose ? " 1 said, when she
hesitated a moment to go on.

She shook her head. " No, not yet. My mother
was always delieate ; she died of consum])tion, and
so did my onlv brother, when he was seventeen."

" You have seen a lot of trouble, my dear,"
I said.

" Death is the easiest of all troubles," she replied,
quickly. " My mother died of consumi)tion, but her
death was hastened by a broken heart. For manv
years my father — I hate to say it, but when 1 have
begun I must go on — was given to drink. He
had to leave his charge, of course, and we gradually
sank down. My mother had to work with her needle
on her death-bed to try and support us. I was fifteen
when she died, and had just begun to go to business.
She was anxious that I should get a good training,
so as to get into a first-class liouse. My brother also
earned a little, but he was so very often ill, it did not

ill

t38

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.&.

I I

amount to very nuicli. At last he died in hosijital,
and father and T were left alone."

" And did all these sad bereavements not awaken
him to a sense of his own sin and responsibility ? "
I asked ; but Winifred only again shook her head.

" Drink is such a fearful thing ; it destroys every-
thing," she said, hopelessly. " He cared for nothing
but how to get his craving satisfied. My mother was
devoted to him to the last, and I never heard her
once blame him, or apeak a hard word about him.
When she died she left liira to me."

" And he is alive still ? " I said, beginning to
understand the many little mysteries which had
seemed to surround the poor girl. The shabby dress,
the poverty of means, the absolute reticence regard-
ing herself and her aftairs — all were explained now.
A vast pity welled in my heart, and I suppose it
was written on mv face, for she stretched out her
hand and touched mine, answering my question with
a grave nod.

"I am afraid I shall never be able to make you
understand about papa," she said presently. " Al-
though he has fallen so low, it is possible to love
him, and I do love him yet, beyond anything on
earth."

A HOME HEROINE.

»39

I was too deeitly moved to speak, iiud she continued
after a moment :

"I tell you this first before I try to explain
other things to you. When mamma died, I tried
to live in the same lodgings to be near him, but
— but it was impossible. When he had drink, and
did not know what he was doing, he made it so
hard for me that I could not stay. He followed me
to my work sometimes and made a disturbance.
They told me that if it occurred any more I must
leave. In the end I had to seek a new place, and
go into lodgings alone. He did not find out my
I)lace of business, but he always managed to trace
me to my lodgings, and I had to keep on changing
constantly. This is the only place he has not
found out, and 1 hope he won't — that is, if he gets
well. He is very ill just now, and that is how I
had to go in the rain the other night and stay so
late."

" Then you have to keep him entirely ? "

" Yes. At first he used to earn a little by copying
and secretarial Wufk. We have a good many rela-
tions who are well off; but they got tired out, and
now they do not wish to know us."

"Your name is a good one."

!fl

r40

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

" Yes : Sir Eustace Pole, the member of Parlia-
ment who lives in Pont Street, is my father's
cousin."

" My dear," I said, tenderly, " you have had a
terrible life. We must help you somehow. If we
could get your fatlier to go into a home of some
kind, that would be ^\q best thing."

" He won't go," she said, with a shake of the
head. " We tried it even in my mother's time.
There is notliing to do but go on as long as it
is possible."

I looked at the sweet young face under the ripj)le
of su"ny hair, and, thinking of all this child had
had to suffer and endure, my heart ached intolerably.
She was not much over twenty, but into her short
life had been crowiled enough of anxiety, sorrow
and privation to last half a century."

"Where is he living now?"

" In a little street off Soho Square. It is the
same })lace ; mother died there. The house belongs
to an old servant of ours who is married to a car-
driver. They are very decent people, and but for
tliem I don't know what I should have done — I
don't indeed."

*' She exercises some sort of care over him, then ? "

vi I

A HOME HEROINE.

" Yes, but of course she is very poor, and has to
work hard. Papa has only one room on the top
floor, and I pay her regularly for that. But I can
never pay h'jr for other things she has done. I
am quite sure that hut for the thought that Susan
was in the same house with him I should have
died."

"She knows you live here, I suppose?"

Winifred shook her head.

" No, I have not told her. There is not a better
woman on this earth than Susan (Mrs. Ellison is
her married name), but somehow she cannot keep
always to herself just the things she ought. Papa
always managed to find out from her where I lodged.
He has a kind of authoritative way with him, and
of course Susan cannot quite forget even yet that
he was once her master. She was always very sorry
for it after, when 1 got into trouble about it ; and
when I came here I ke2)t the address from her, for
of course 1 knew that Mrs. Hamilton would not like
anything of that kind to occur here."

" She would never blame you for it, dear child,
or make you suffer for it," 1 said, fervently, thinking
how this pathetic story would melt Elizabeth's tender
heart.

ll 1

''ll

t ft

if',!

f '

fiHHi

If'

III

'ik

1: :

1 n

',"

142

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

" It was better not. Papa was really very ill
when 1 saw him on Tuesday, and Susan's doctor says
he has very bad inflammation of the lungs ; so you
see it will be necessary for me to get up to-morrow
to go and see him, in case he wants anything, or
should be worse. You see it is not as if Susan
knew where to send ; she does not even know my
business address."

I hesitated a moment, fearing to seek to pierce
the veil of this sad but necessary reserve.

" Would you like me to go and see him ? I am
quite sure you wiij not be able to get up to-morrow.
My husband will certainly foi'bid it."

Her face fluslied.

" It will hurt me very much to have you go,
and yet, if you would be so kind, oh, I should be
so relieved ! He might even, you see, have died
since Tuesday. Susan's doctor thought him very
bad."

1 took out my watch. It was not yet nine o'clock.
A hansom would take me to Soho Square and back

ui half an hour ; and I did not expect my husband
to call for me at the House Beautiful much before
ten.
** \ shall go now, my dear ; jj»ou will sleep all tbe

■ ^

A HOME HEROINE.

143

sounder if you have heard how your poor father is,"
I said as I rose. " Good-bye just now, and you
may rely upon me : I can keep a secret, child.
I have had many entrusted to me, some sadder
than yours, though I have never heard one which
moved me more."

I stooped and kissed her before I left the room,
and I saw her eyes fill with tears. But her face
seemed to me to wear a less harassed look, as
if she had tasted the blessed relief of a burden
shared.

Within a quarter of an hour I had found the
house of Susan Ellison, in a somcw^hat questionable-
looking street opening off Soho Square. I knew
the neighbourhood as one of evil reputation, on
account of the large foreign element in it, but nobody
molested or troubled me. My experience of London
life has convinced me that if you are peaceably
inclined, and show by your demeanour and bearing
in the streets that you have business of your own
to attend to, which does not at all concern other
people, you will be let alone.

Mrs. Ellison, a middle-aged woman with a faded,
grimy-looking, but not unkindly face, opened the
door to pie beyself, regarding pie witl^ dfstipct

V\4

..jiJ

l-i

3 '

5Mi

,! !

'44

il//^5. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

suspicion until 1 mentioned ^he name of Winifred
Pole.

Then she opened wide the door.

" I was just at my wits' end, ma'am. The old
master's not been dead above an hour, an' me not
knowin' where to send or what to do. What's
happened Miss Winnie ? "

" She is ill lierself, and will not be able to leave
her bed for a day or two. Dead, is he ? You may
speak freely to me, Mrs. Ellison. Miss Pole has
told me the whole circumstances of the case."

"Come in, come in," she said, hurriedly; and 1
followed hei into a very grimy little sittiug-room,
which reeked of fried onious and stale toba(^co smoke.
'* I'm Jill nloue in the liouse. Ellison don't get off
Ids 'bus till midnight — as well be a widdtn* at once,
1 say. Yes, the old master snulfed out this very
night at ten miuutes to eight, and a good riddance
to poor Miss Winnie, I say ; and yet, dear, dear,
he was a fine man once. Eh, ma'am, it's a bad
tiling the drink when it gets too much hold."

The good soul, t^iucercly moved, wi])ed her eyes
with the corner of her apron, and presently spoke

figaui.

" Perhaps you'd like to see him, ma'am ; me

ii.l. :■;■■. .'Kl-.i^iL.

iu-^

111

J 1 : : i

WIHH HIS DAUOHTKK COULD SEE HIM NOW," I SAID." [p. 145

A HOME HEROINE.

145

an' a neighbour hev jnst fixed him up as best
we can, an' he do look beautiful : ay. ay, he was
a fine man once, an' it oughter be a lesson to
us all."

"I should like to see him," I said, and she asked
me to walk upstairs.

The poor little death-chamber in the .ittic, shall
I ever forget it, or the calm, still figure on the
low bed, impressed with the singular and solemn
majesty of death ?

When Mrs. Ellison folded back the sheet from
the face, I was surprised at the classic cut of the
i'eatures ; the poor drunkard who had brought
desolation and woe to so many hearts looked almost
like a hero or a king. No trace of his wasted
and misspent life remained ; it was as if Death
had taken pity and restored to him at the last the
dignity of the manhood he had so degraded and
trampled upon.

'' I wish his daughter could see him now," I said,
as I covered him again. *'I am sure it would be
a comfort to her."

" Poor dear heart, she's 'ad her own to do and
to bear wi' him, an' she's one 0' the sweetest creturs
in God's earth, she is."

L'li;

111

'11

Ill

i.W

!' ^ !

ill li

• !i I

Mil

146

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

When we went downstairs she told me some
further particulars about the Poles, which made
things even clearer to me. I returned to the
House Beautiful feeling that among all those
whom the world del': ' ed to honour Winifred
Pole ought to hjivci Uau a place, by reason of
her brave acceptance ji' v^ ofttime bitter duty,
her sim])le and quiet heroism in circumstances the
most trying.

I broke the news to her gently, and though she
did not appear much surprised, she was genuinely and
deeply grieved, and reproached herself for not having
been able to minister to him at the last. Her illness
turned out more seriously than even we expected,
and she was a full month in bed. 1 did not need
to expatiate much to enlist Elizabeth's sympathies ;
it was just the sort of thing to appeal to her
high and sometimes strained sense of duty. Blaming
herself for sundry suspicions of Winifred Pole in
the past, she straightway fell down and worshipped
her, till I had to intervene and protest that she
would be spoiled. When convalescent, she was sent
up to Flisk to recruit, and she never came back
Mgain. Elizabeth found all sorts of things for her
to do — among others secretarial work in connection

A HOME HEROINE.

147

with the hospital at Port Ellon, which had grown
in dimensions and in usefulness far beyond the
dreams of its foundress.

Last time I was at Flisk Mrs. Hamilton and I
paid a marriage call at the doctor's house in Port
Ellon, a pretty villa standing on a headland facing
the sea. And the young wife who came to us in the
drawing-room, her face aglow with smiles, though
her eyes were suspiciously dim, was Winifred Pole.

III'

I I

iMli

VII.

A \VOMA^' OF CUARACTER.

VII.

A TFOJ/.liV OF CIIARACTEU.

PvELiAMENT sat late that year, and the Keith
Hamiltons did not get out of town until the third
week of August. As we were not bound in any
way by Parliamentary vagaries, we had sought the
solitude of the country a full month before that,
and as it happened, Elizabeth and I did not meet
for a considerable time. The first visit I paid, on
my return to London at the end of September, was
to the House Beautiful. I quite expected to find
Marget dull and homesick, pining for the fresh
winds and the purple hillsides of Flisk. But, on
the contrary, she seemed in the best of health and
spirits. The work of supervising the House Beautiful
was after her own heart, and, as I said before, she
had thrown herself into it with all the energy ard
pains of whicli she was capable. She had become
sincerely attached to several of the inmates, and

fi!

^52

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

I am sure that never had girls a truer friend nor
a more motherly and wise counsellor. We had a
good deal to say of a private nature, Marget taking
the liveliest possible interest in my own family
affairs ; hut at length I managed to satisfy all her
inquiries and to turn the conversation into other
channels.

" Oh, yes, we're getting on fine," she said, in
answer to my question as to how matters were in
the House Beautiful. " We've been very slack, of
course, so many of tliem away for their holidays,
but we are beginning to fill up now, and I have
got a new young lady in Miss Pole's place."

" Oh," 1 said, with interest, " then the number
is complete again. Did you take her on your own
responsibility ? "

"Of course," said Marget, p'ondly. ** The mistress
left ]ne full powers, and there is something about
the new inmate tliat is very interesting to me, and
I have just been wearying for you and the mistress
to see her."

" Does she come from the country ? " I inquired.

'* Faith, I didna speir ; she's no' one that encourages
mony questions. 1 tliink mysel' that she's a lady.
She is very gentle s[)oken, au' has a proud way

i£

;;

|l| ;

1 1

A WOMAN OF CHARAJTER.

153

with her, and the very way she speaks to me lets
me ken that she's been brocht np wi' servants to
do her biddin'."

" This sounds very interesting, Marget," I said ;
" and what is her name ? "

"Miss March — Miss Evelyn March, I should
say ; and she's engaged somewhere in Wigmore
Street, 1 think, at some art place, bat I couldna
be quite sure. But will ye no go in and see
them?"

" Does Miss March sit in the drawing-room
usually ? " I inquired.

" Yes," replied Marget ; " she is very friendly
wi' a' the rest, and a great favourite. She gies
hersel' nae airs, and that is what makes me think
mair than onything that she's a real lady. Besides,
she can play and sing on the piaiiy just like an
angel."

" I think I »vill look into the drawing-room as
I have been away so long, Marget," I said, and
presently went down to the spacious and pleasant
apartment, where some ten or twelve girls were
gathered. Most of them 1 knew, and after I had
exchanged greetings with them, Marget introduced
me to the new inmate, Miss Evelyn March.

If
If . '■■

•

^54

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

Ki '

I was not very favourably impressed by her
appearance at first. Some might have called her
handsome, but her face was very sallow and the
features too strongly marked to be strictly beautiful.
Her figure was certainly all that could be desired
in proportion and grace, and I was not at all sur-
prised at Marget for coming to the conclusion that
she was a real lady. She was very civil to me,
but no more ; and, I being perhaps ultra-sensitive
on the point of even seeming to intrude myself
upon those whom Elizabeth had persuaded to take
advantage of the House Beautiful, did not find very
much to say. One question, however, I ventured
upon, and she took it courteously.

" I hope that you find yourself pretty comfortable
here, Miss Marcli?" 1 said. "Mrs. Hamilton would
like to know that you are quite satisfied. May 1
tell her so when I write ? "

" Oh, certainly," she replied. " I am more than
satisfied. I am extremely grateful, you may say,
to have found a place like this, which is comfortable
and within my means."

She smiled slightly as she uttered these words,
and that smile made a wonderful difference to her
face, relieving its somewlint sombre look, and lighting

\mmm'i

A IVOMAN OF CHARACTER.

155

up her dark eyes witli a very pleasant and winning
gleam.

" I had often heard of Mrs. Keith Hamilton before
I came to London," she said when I made no reply,
" and I knew of this place. I thought, since it was
necessary for me to earn mv own bread and to live
somewhere, that this might be preferable to lodgings.
I have found it so, and I am grateful."

All this was said in the most matter-of-fact way,
yet with a singular and pleasant courtesy which
impressed me very much. I very mucli wanted to
ask her whether this earning her bread, as she
termed it, was an entirely new experience for her,
but 1 felt that perhaps I liad ventured far enougii
at a lirst meeting. I thought of her a good deal
as 1 went liome, and took occasion to write to
Elizabeth the same night, telling her of Wiiiifred
Pole's successor, and not forgetting to add the
remark made by Miss March, which 1 knew would
be most gratifying and encouraging to Elizabeth,
who was apt sometimes to take a gloomy view of
things unless the needful amount of encouragement
was forthcoming.

During the next few weeks I paid an occasional
visit to the House Beautiful, and had a good deal

156

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

■t;

:il

of talk one way and another with Miss March. I
found her very pleasant and agreeable, and even
communicative up to a certain point ; but beyond
that it was impossible to get, and 1 came to the
conclusion at last that she was a very clever woman,
and that she had no intention whatever of letting
me, or probably any one else, know any more about
her than we knew at present. This, of course, 1
could not and did not resent; at the same time 1
felt drawn to her by a kind of warm personal interest
and regard which rather astonished me, as 1 was
not given to making sudden friendships.

Early in December Elizabeth ran up for a week,
to do her Christmas shopping, as she said, but in
reality, 1 knew, to satisfy her mind as to how her
new experiment was progressing. To my surprise,
she did not at all take to Miss Marcli, and the
first time she came back to me after having seen
and talked with her, seemed to be inclined to harbour
a suspicion against a fellow-creature. This was so
unlike Elizabeth that I was a good deal puzzled
by it, and wondered whether my own judgment and
Marget's likewise, since she entirely agreed with my
opinion of Miss March, could be utterly at fault.

' Mv dear, I am confident she is a fraud," said

A WOMAN OF CHARACTER.

157

Elizabeth, flatly. " Yes, I grant that she is a lady,
well born to her finger tips, and what I want to
know is what she is doing here. There is something
at the back of it, and I don't believe that I shall
rest till I have discovered it."

" But, Elizabeth," I reminded her, " don't you
remember that before you opened the House Beauti-
ful at all we aiirreed that we were not to have the
slightcbt inquisitivenetss concerning the private affairs
of those who might acce})t its shelter? Whatever
confidence the inmates may be disi)0sed to give
Marget or you, or even me failing any one else,
would be a dift'crent matter. I cannot allow you
to express, much less to carry out, a curiosity so
unworthy of you."

" Dear me ! " said Elizabeth, stiffly, " you are going
to keep me to the letter of my word, p;-.: no mistake.
What I want i)articnlarly to im])rcss upon you is
that the place was not originally intended for people
like Miss March."

"■ But why ? " I asked, my eyes opening in surprise.
"She is as needful as any of the others, and 1 am
sure that she apj)reciates everything ; indei , she
has told me so again and again. What is your
objection to her, Elizabeth ? "

I|i MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

"Well, I really conid not say," she replied, in
a convicted tone. " Perhaps I am unreasonable, but
I thought her very stand-offish indeed when 1 talked
with her to-night, and I am very much afraid — you
know I am— that any undesirable element should
find its way into my House Beautiful."

" Well, but, Elizabeth, I am sure you may set
your mind entirely at rest so far as Miss March is
concerned. She is not only a lady, as you have
yourself admitted, but she is singularly amiable,
and sociable too, with all the others ; they adore
her. Marget will tell you so herself. Has she
not told you so already, that she is giving that
little Milly Waring music lessons in th. evening?"
" No, 1 did not hear that. I am afraid I am
developing a very suspicious nature, my dear," said
Elizabeth, quite meekly for her ; " but, oh, I should
like to find out the mvstery of Evelvn March's
life."

This bit of tr".e womanliness about Elizabeth
was more delightful to me than it was possible
for me to .-a v. I luid sometimes in the old days
been impr\s?ed hy lit\^ superiority over the most
feminine weaknesses, and Wt,^ delighted to find that
she had a few in ; ,e hidden recesses of her n^^ture,

A WOMAN OF CHARACTER.

'59

We did not talk anv more about Miss March that
night, and at the end of a week Elizabeth returned
to Flisk for Christmas, apparently highly delighted
with the flourishing state of affairs in the House
Beautiful. They came to Belgrave Square when
Parliament opened in the second week of February,
but for a time Mrs. Hamilton was so absorbed by
her many social duties tliat I saw very little of
her. Occasionally we met by appointment, and she
was always bemoaning her lack of leisure and the
very scant amount of attention she had been able
to bestow upon the House Beautiful.

*' If I were not so absolutely sure of Marget, my
dear, I should be in despair," she confided to me,
" and perhaps if she were less conscientious and
reliable, I might be obliged to make the time
to go."

" But you don't need to go, Elizabeth," I said :
"the thing is sailinj^ on peacefully, and everybody
seems pleased and happy."

There was a lull in the tide of gaiety just before
Easter, and then I knew from Marget that Elizabeth
spent a good deal of her time at the House Beautiful.

As it happened, my summer was very full and
busy, and I did not pay many visits, and I seemed

l!l

i6o

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

< i\ *

to see less of Elizabeth tlian usual, and to hear
very few details about her experiruent. One eveninj^
she came to my house without announcement or
warning, and when I saw her I knew at once that
something had hai)pened to excite her.

" Can you give me half an hour, or if you cannot
comfortably, will you come to-morrow morning? 1
have got something of the utmost importance and
interest to tell you. But 1 will try and keep it
until to-morrow, although it will be rather a hard
task."

'• Oh, 1 can listen now," I said, smiling at her
impetuosity. " I do not think it is a very unpleasant
tale, if I may judge from your expression."

" It is more extraortlinary than unpleasant, and
as it is likely to have a happy ending, the story
will certainly please you."

" What is it all about ? " I asked, as 1 took my
friend's lace wrap from her shoulders and set her
down on the couch.

" Why, of course it is about Evelyn March. Who
else could it possibly be about?" she asked, in a
surprised voice, as if I evinced stupidity in not at
once jumping to the conclusion.

"Well, it might have had something to do with

*''**«Ki

A IVOMAN OF CHARACTER.

i6i

yon," I snggcstetl, mildly; "and considering how
extremely little 1 have seen of yon dnring the last
six weeks or so, anything might have h{i])pened."

" Oh, well, von know [ luive been bnsv : lite is
snch a whirl ; and all this came npon me jnst like
a thniidor-chi]), and although I wanted very badly
several times to ask vonr advice, I never could
manage it somehow, and now 1 i'eel rather proud
to think that 1 luive steered my bark out of perilous
waters into a safe liarbour."

" That is very jjoetically put, my dear," 1 said,
feeling particularly inclined to tease Elizabeth, as
I invariably did wlien she appeared so dreadfnily
in earnest.

" Don't you remember long ago — well, it is not
so long ago when I come to think of it, because of
course it was only last December — but yon will
remember how quite suspicions I was of Evelyn
March, and how 1 even said that 1 was sure that
she was living in the House Beautiful under false
])retences."

" If they were false pretences," I said severely,

" we had nothing to do with them so long as she

conformed to your mild regulations, and was not

objected to by any one else."

mil

\C>2

Ml^S. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

' iii!

" Yes, yes, I know that you are right up to a
certain point," said Elizal)eth impatiently, "hut all
the same I was right in tlieory. Wliat do you
think I have found out ? "

" I am sure I could not say," I replied, but in a
sufficiently interested voice to satisfy Elizabeth.

" Well, that Evelyn March is a married woman."

"Oh," I said, "surely that cannot be: she does
not look in the least like it."

" No, but she is all the same. I see by your
face that you are simply dying to hear all about it,
but you must allow me to tell the story in my own
way, and do not interrupt me any more tlian you
can possibly help."

Thus reproved and admonished, I sat back meekly,
indicating by my silence that I was ready to hear
everything Elizabeth had to say.

" Well, you know, just about Easter I went a
good deal to the House Beautiful, and after what
you had said, I felt inclined to take a great deal
of interest in Evelyn March. The more 1 saw of
her, the more convinced I was that she was a perfect
lady, and had been brought up probably in greater
luxury than I ; little things betrayed this — things
I could scarcely specify, and yet which always carried

./ WOMAN OF CHARACTER.

«^\5

convincing proof with theni ; and Mar]Lj:ot, who I
do not need to tell yon is very discerninji', was qnite
of the same opinion. That is one of the secrets, 1
believe, of her iuflnence over so many of the girls ;
and I had not gone many times with my eyes o])en
before I saw that tliev were all entirely devoted to
her. She fonght shy of me for a good while, and
was always so stand-offish that sometimes I felt
inclined to be a little offended. I think she knew
that I was watching her and wondering abont her
in my mind, and the very fact that she slionld resent
this proved still more luidoniably to me that she
was not wliat she seemed ; ])ut in all my thonghts
abont her a single doubt or snsj)icion of her goodness
and honesty never crossed my mind. The victim
of circnmstances, or even of some foolish step of
her own, she might bo ; bnt of this I felt assnred,
that nothing dishonourable, or mean, or unwomanly,
could ever be laid to tiie charge of Evelyn March."

" I am glad you took that view of her, Elizabeth,"
I put in, " because it exactly coincides with my
own. Slie struck me from the first as beinj; a verv
high-souled as well as proud-spirited woman."

"You know I have always been in the habit of
inviting one or two of the girls to tea with me on

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-S)

{./

^.^.

l^.

1.0

Si 128 1 2.5
1^ 12.2

m II >4 m.

^» ■ A^*./'

Photographic

Sciences

Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. M580

(716) 872-4503

■17

4s.

^ Jf

164

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

Sunday, and I was particularly anxious that Evelyn
should come, because I wanted Keith to see her ;
but she refused for a long time, making all sorts
of excuses which a baby might have seen through.
I did not press her too much, of course, because
I have no doubt she had her own reasons for her
refusal. But one day, when I had rej)eated the
invitation, and said there would be no one else, she
certainly promised to come.

" ' Then it has been your fear of meeting people.
Miss March, which has made you refuse me so
often before ? ' 1 said incpiiringly.

" ' Yes,' she re})lied, ' 1 do not care for strangers ;
but if you are to be alone, 1 shall dearly like to come.'

" By this time she had become familiar enough
with me to talk without the slightest restraint, and
always as if her social position was cpiite as good
as my own. There was none of that timidity or
hesitation which some of the girls have evinced
when brought into closer quarters. That was one
of the things which helped me to judge pretty
correctly of her origin and upbringing. Well, then,
she came, a fortnight past on Sunday, at the usual
time. You know that I never encourage ordinary
callers on Sunday, and that both Keith and 1 have

A WOMAN OF CHARACTER.

l6:

absolutely set onr faces against Sunday parties of
every kind, although it is a real pleasure always
to us both to see an old friend drop in in the after-
noon, or to welcome our new friends from the
House Beautiful.

" Keith was in the drawing-room when Miss March
was announced, and I saw that he noted as well as
I her carriage and bearing as she entered the room,
so unmistakably those of one accustomed to rooms
as lofty and magnificent as my own ; and when 1
saw him slightly elevate his brows, I knew what he
meant. She was dressed with extreme plainness— in
fact with a Quaker-like simplicity, which 1 thought
carried perhaps to excess ; but it was as impossible
to disguise herself as it is to make a line lady out
of gorgeous clothing. She was most perfectly at
her ease, and talked to Keith as if she had known
him all her life. As I listened to them, and heard
her remarks upon the current topics of the day, of
which she might be supposed in her capacity as
assistant in an art emporium to know very little,
a greater desire than ever to penetrate the mystery
surrounding lier filled my soul. I was just thinking
whether I might, if a favourable opportunity should
occur, venture on a few ])lain (piestions, when the

III

•s '\

i66

MRS. KEITH 1/ A MILTON, M.B.

bell rang, and Dawson announced the Hon. Mrs.
Roden. I was never so surprised in all my life,
for I am not on visiting terms with that particularly
objectionable old lady, and why she should favour
me with a call upon Sunday afternoon, of all days
in the week, was an incomprehensible mystery.
Almost before Dawson had pompously announced
lier and retired in that discreet and noiseless manner
peculiar to him, I saw at once that something extra-
ordinary had happened, or was about to happen.
It was quite evident tliat Mrs. Roden — I don't know
if you happen to know her, dear, or not, but I should
think she is positively the very ugliest woman that
ever lived — was very much excited ; her face was
about ten degrees redder than usual, and her general
appearance is that of an apple- woman, only less
comely. But before she uttered a word of explana-
tion, I glanced at Miss Marcli, and saw that she
had risen to her feet, and that a mutual recognition
had taken place, and that something was going to
happen.

" * So you are here, you ungrateful creature,' said
the old lady in an irate voice, and not taking the
slightest notice of Keith or of me. ' My dear Mr?.
Hamilton, if you knew as much about this young

A IVOMAN OF CHARACTER.

167

woman as I do, you would not have her in your
lionse.'

"I did not know what to say, but ghxnced from
one to the other inquiringly. As for Keith, he
looked decidedly and tremendously uncomfortable.
You know his innate hatred and dread of scenes.

" ' I was at Lady Col win's reception, and happening
to be near the window, I saw you pass up the Square
about half an hour ago,' said Mrs. Roden, still
glaring upon my unfortunate guest in the same
menacing manner. * It took me a long time to get
through the crash to the street, and then I was
fortunate in finding that both Barrett and James
had noticed you, and could tell me where you had
gone, and I have come to see you. How have you
got yourself wormed in here, for everybody knows
that this is one of the most exclusive houses in
London ? *

" ' I think, dear,' said Keith to me presently, * we
had better retire, and leave these ladies to their
interview.'

"He began to move with most amazing haste
towards the door, and I prepared to follow ; but
Evelyn March came to my side and laid an im-
ploring hand upon my arm.

-t ^j

i68

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

" ' Pray stay, Mrs. Hamilton,' she said, in a proud,
clear voice i ' it is imperative that you hear the story
now. Would you prefer to hear it from me or from
my mother-in-law ? '

" ' Your motlier-in-law ! ' I gasped. * Do you mean
to say that you are married?'

" ' Yes, she is, the minx ! ' cried Mrs. Roden ; and
though she seemed to be in a really dreadful state,
the thing struck Keith and me in the same ludicrous
light, and I saw that he had a very broad smile
on his face as he quickly let himself out by the
door.

"'She is my son's wife,' continued Mrs. Roden,
with the same angry note in her voice. ' Married
to him only a year ago, and left him five months
after — left him out of pure spite and ill will, I
believe — and what she has been doing with herself
since then, that is what I want to know.'

" ' Mrs. Hamilton will be able to tell you,' put
in Evelyn ; and there was upon her face a very
fine contempt, which indicated in what esteem slio
held her mother-in-law.

" ' Left him,' repeated Mrs. Roden, vehemently,
V without the slightest warning, and the poor boy
nearly broken-hearted ever since, to say nothing of

1)1

"'SHE IS MY son's wife,' CONTINUED MRS. RODEN." [p. 168.

Ill

il:

A WOMAN OF CHARACTER.

169

the hnmiliation it has been to me and to my
daughters. 1 hope you will be able to convince
her of her dreadful folly and wickedness, for I see
from her face that her heart is just as it was before,
and that she will not own her ofl'euces to me.*

" ' Indeed, and I shall not,' repeated Evelyn, with
a fervour there was no mistaking.

"I looked from one to the other again, perplexed
how to act, and yet it was evident that they ex-
pected me to say or do something. «

" ' Perha]»s you will tell me, my dear,' I said,
looking at her witli eyes which I think she could
read, for a faint, sweet smile dawned upon her lips,
and she drew a breath of relief — ' perha})s you will
tell me yourself, since we have gone so far, why
you left your husband, and whether there is any
truth in Mrs. lioden's accusations.'

" * Oh, they are all true,' she replied, witliout the
least hesitation. * T left him because I could not
suffer his relatives. You must understand, Mrs.
Hamilton, that I was married to Mr. Roden against
my will, altliough I will say for liim that he was
a kind, indulgent, and loving husband to me. But
I was never consulted as to my home or my sur-
roundings, but was taken to make one of his family,

170

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

which consisted of his mother and his four sisters.
I endured them as long as I could, and then I ran
away.'

" There was not mucli ambiguity about this state-
ment, and I could scarcely repress a litth; smile.

" ' Hear her I ' replied Mrs. Koden, almost tragically :
'a girl without a penny, who had no prospects and
was absolutely dependent upon her aunt for the very
bread she ate. To say that she endured us as long
as she could I I really have no more to say.'

" Mrs. lloden appeared speechless for the time
being, but that time did not last long.

" ' Wbat I want to know is, if you are coming
back to put an end to this abominable scandal
which has so humiliated us, or what you are going
to do. Meeting you here, I can safely believe that
you are still fit to be received back into your
home.'

"At this Evelyn curled her lip, and I saw a
bitter, hunted look leap into her eyes.

*' ' You can go back to your son, madam,' she
said quietly, and yet with a terrible pride and
strength, ' and tell him that I have no fault to
find with him, nor have I any objection to share
his home. It was not from him I ran away, but

A WOMAN OF CltARACTEH.

«7'

he knows very well what is my mind on this
question ; and you can tell him that as soon as he
can see his way to offer me a home which sluill be
mine alone, and of wliich I am absolnte mistress,
Mrs. Keith Hamilton will kindly tell him where
I am to be found.'

** Then she turned to me with a whole world of
entreaty in her face.

" * Will you allow me to leave, Mrs. Hamilton,
or to go into another room ? '

" I saw that the ^irl was vi;)sct, and did not wish
to break down before her very fierce and unamiable
relative. I opened the door of the inner drawing-
room hurriedly.

" ' Go in there, my dear, and out by the second
door, and you will come to my boudoir. Stay there
until I join you.'

" Mrs. Roden looked as if she would have liked
to have detained her, but Evelyn paid not the
slightest heed, and immediately disappeared. The
old lady remained a few minutes longer, expatiating
upon her daughter-in-law's frightful ingratitude and
wickedness, but I gave her so little encouragement
that she speedily withdrew. 1 was extremely careful
also, althousfh she questioned me quite flatlv, not

172

MRS. KEITH fl. I MILTON, M.B.

to tell her wliere Evelyn was to be found. When
she left, 1 souii^lit Evelyn in the boudoir, and found
her crying bitterly. She soon put me in possession
of the whole story, with which, however, I need
not trouble you. You must have gathered it pretty
correctly from my account of that extraordinary
invasion by the Hon. Mrs. Roden. 1 was not sur-
prised next day to have a visit from Evelyn's
husband. I may say I was rather agreeably
disappointed with him. He was young, a very
gentlemanly and amiable-looking lad, with a singu-
larly open, frank and pleasant face, although perhai)s
it lacked a little in strength of cliaracter. He was
the youngest of his mother's family, and had been
ruled all his life bv lier and his four sisters, who
were all unmarried, and I was uncharitable enough
to think that if they at all resembled their mother
the chances were that they would remain unmarried
for a considerably time to come.

" We had a very long talk, and, on the whole,
a satisfactory one ; and what do you think has been
the upshot of the whole affair ? "

" 1 could not possibly say," I said, in an intensely
interested voice, "although I may be able to guess
pretty correctly."

I WOMAN OF CHARACTER.

'73

((

Well, Evelyn has agreed to go back witli liim

-which

upon her own conditions — which are, ol course,
she has her own home of which she is absolute*
mistress. He is really very fond of her ; and though
Evelyn married him, as she says, ngainst her will,
I think she is very kindly inclined to him, and that,
if they are left alone, their relations to each other
would right themselves."

" And when does this new condition of things
come into operation ? "

"Next week; nieainvliile Evelvn has loft the
House Beautiful, and is living witli us, and I think
she would very mucli like to see you before she
leaves. When will you come ? "

" Oh, to-morrow," I replied, promptly. " It shows
a good deal of courage, don't you think, to map
out her life for herself in tlie way she has done ?
I never saw anybody who accepted the limitations of
her entirely new life in such an admirable spirit."

" She is a woman of character, my dear," Elizabeth
replied, " and if she is allowed a fair chance, she
will be the making of Wilfred Roden."

VIII.

THE LOST BRACELET.

I'i >

4m\

1 I

Vlll.

THE LOST BRACELET.

After the episode of Evelyn March, otherwise Mrs.
Roden, there was a period of peaceable monotony
in the House Beautiful. That the experiment was
entirely successful was proved by the fact that every
available room was occujjied, and that many appli-
cations which could not be entertained were constantly
being made, both to the housekeeper and to Mrs.
Hamilton. Nor did I wonder at it, because it was
a i)leasant home, and the charges more moderate
than many of the inferior lodgings where the guests
had formerly found shelter. It was entirely self-
supporting, which was a source of the greatest
possible gratification, of course, to Elizabeth, and
justified her intention of extending the scheme so as
to accommodate a larger number of guests.

One afternoon, about twelve months after the
ej)isode related in our last cliapter, Mrs. Hamilton

'77 12

178

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

'■ii!

came to me considerably worried about something
which had happened, not exactly in the House Beau-
tiful, but still in connection with one of the inmates.

"You know little Polly Hartley, don't you?"
she began, without the slightest greeting or preamble
of any kind.

" Yes, of course I do," I replied, promptly ; for
Polly, who was one of the brightest, cheeriest little
mortals it was possible to imagine, had been an
inmate of the house since its commencement. " What
can have happened to Polly ? "

" Rather a serious thing for her, poor child ! "
said Elizabeth, with a slight contraction of her
brows. " A diamond watch bracelet has unfor-
tunately gone a-missing in the showroom where she
is engaged, and it seems in some extraordinary way
suspicion has been allowed to fasten on Polly."

" On Polly ! " I cried, in amazement. " Why, all
they have got to do is to look at th-^ child's face,
and they will have their suspicions blown to the
four winds of heaven."

" I quite agree with you," replied Elizabeth ;
"but, unfortunately, the majority of people do not
take the trouble to look for the mute testimony of
faces^ but are too readv to jump at conclusions.

THE LOST BRACELET.

1/9

Anyhow, Polly has been suspended until inquiries
are made."

" I wish you would tell me how it happened,"
I said, with interest ; " and does Miriam Wynne
know anything about it ? "

" She knows nothing more than I have told you,"
replied Elizabeth; "but I should just as soon have
suspected her as Polly."

" A great deal sooner," 1 answered, promptly, as
I contrasted in my mind the bold, dark, handsome
face of Miriam Wynne with Polly's round, ingenu-
ous, innocent one. " But 1 am still waiting to hear
how it happened."

" Well, it was on Friday, I understand," replied
Elizabeth. " They had been very busy, it seems,
all the morning, showing a new stock of Paris tea-
gowns. They had a good many customers in —
some of their very best, and the bracelet belonged
to a lady whom I know slightly. 1 am just going
to see her when I have talked it over with you."

" And did Polly attend upon her ? " I inquired.

" Yes, she did. The lady took off the bracelet
with her gloves, and laid it down on the settee.
Why people will be so abominably careless with
such valuable things, and why they wear them in

V:[

■

i.'l

i8o

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

the street or to go shopping in at all, I do not
know," said Elizabeth, very indignantly.

''Was it a very valuable article, then?" I asked.

" Yes, very : one of those new-fangled enamelled
watches, set round with brilliants. But I believe
the chief value of it in her eyes is that it was
given to her by some one of whom she is very fond.
Anyhow, she is making a frightful fuss about it,
and threatens all sorts of legal proceedings."

"She is quite sure, then, she had it on?"

" Oh, positive. Polly herself admits having seen
and admired it, and even once reminded her that
it was lying rather carelessly. You know that in
a large shop like that, where they are perpetually so
busy, professional thieves are constantly coming and
going. It is quite possible that one of them may
have lifted the pretty bauble."

"Well, but how did the suspicion come to be
fastened on Polly ? That is what I want to get at."

" Oh, that was simple enough. I believe that
Miriam was the first to suggest it. You know
there has been a coolness between them for some
time : Miriam is very jealous of Polly, because,
being such a favourite, she lias got on rather faster
than Miriam herself ; and she has been exceedingly

THE LOST BRACELET.

i8i

disagreeable to her, Marget tells me, even in the
honse, for some considerahle time. She did not
exactly direct snspicion, of course, to Polly— that
would have been too risky — but she did say that
she saw the thing lying on the settee, and absolutely
asserts that not a creature was near that corner of
the room except Polly and the lady she was waiting

on.

" But surely that is very circumstantial evidence,"
I replied, lightly. " What else have they done
besides suspend the poor girl ? "

" Well, they sent on Saturday to search her room
and her boxes. Of course nothing was found, as
they might very well have known, because even
the most transparent an.l inexperienced of thieves
would take good care that the evidence of their
guilt could not be so easily founl. Poor Polly is
in terrible distress ; and I have just learnt some-
thing to-day which has perplexed me a good deal."

"What is that?" I asked.

"Well, you know that she has a mother and a
poor little cripple brother down at Plaistow, not
very far from the place where W^inifred Pole's
home used to be. It was Miriam who told me this
just at the dinner-hour, and they have gone down

i: .

■il

MJiS. kEITIl llAMtlJ'ON, At.B.

to Margate for a inontli, she says. Now, to ni}'
certain kiiowledj^e Polly had not a penny to bless
herself with no later tlum last week. You know
she gives everything she can spare to her mother ;
but, let her be as economical as she likes, what she
is able to give can only purchase necessaries : such
luxuries as weeks at the seaside are altogether out
of the question."

" Didn't you ask her about that ? " I inquired.

" Well, no, 1 did not," rej)lied Elizabeth, a trifle
shamefacedly. " The fact is, I could not look in
the child's face and ask her where she had got
that money I am afraid, don't you understand —
afraid lest by any chance she should be guilty. It
would be such a dreadful thing for her ; and I am
quite sure that Mrs. Vincent will sliow her no
mercy, because she valued the lost article very
much, — and besides, she is not what one would call
a woman of feeling."

" Did yon say you were going to her now ? " I
inquired.

" Yes ; she lives in Con naught Place. I shall
just drive there now."

" And where is Polly ? "

" Well, she was in the house when 1 left at the

THE LOST nn ACE LET.

»83

luncheon hour ; but Marget says she has eaten
nothing for two days, and she looks the picture of
misery."

" If you wait a moment I will drive back with
you as ftir as the house. I have a fancy I should
like to have a few words with Polly on the subject
myself."

"All right," said Elizabeth, with alacrity, as if
she felt rather glad to have some little part of the
responsibility shifted from her shoulders.

" I am very much annoyed about it," she con-
fided to me as we drove along the pleasant road
through Regent's Park, " because, you see, even if
nothing is proved against the girl, it sets a kind
of stigma on our establishment, and the other girls
do not like it; I can see that quite well."

"Oh, but they must have a little more sympathy
and forbearance," I said, quickly, "and you must
not exaggerate things m this way. I am sure that
Polly will come out of this ordeal without a blemish
on her character. One knows tuese things in-
tuitively."

" Well, I am sure I hope so," replied Elizabeth,
the gloom clearing somewhat from her face. And
then she began to tell me of the great speech that

184

M/iS. KEITH HAMILTON, M./J.

Keith wa8 expected to make on tlio following night
on one of the hnrning qnestions of tiie honr. By
the time that we had discnssed tliis a little, and
arranged to meet at the Ladies' Gallery in order to
hear it, we arrived at the House Beautiful, where
I wa8 put down.

At that hour of tlie afternoon, of course, none of
the inmates were supposed to be at home. Polly,
therefore, occujned the drawing-room alone, and
Elizabeth had by no means exaggerated her appear-
ance, for she certainly looked a very woe-begone
little creature, as she glanced at me with some
shrinking, as if not quite sure how I was going to
treat her. She was a little mite of a thing, quite
young, but so smart and active, and such a general
favourite, that she liad got on in business much faster
than Miriam Wynne, who prided herself upon her face
and figure, and thought herself generally irresistible.
Polly was not a lady : her father had been a small
shopkeeper in Plaistow, and having had a long period
of ill-health before his death, had left his wife and
two children in very poor circumstances. The boy,
who was three years younger than Polly, had been
a helpless invalid all his life, and was, of course,
a heavy drain upon such slender resources as they

THE LOST BRACELET.

185

possessed. She liad not applied for residence in
the Honse Beantifnl in the ordinary way ; but
Elizabeth, wlio was behind the scenes in so many
homes, had heard of tlie ease from a ch'rgyman at
Plaistow, and being tonehed by the story of their
poverty, and of Polly's great struggle and self-denying
efforts, had thereupon made it her business to find
out the girl, and had insisted upon her shanng all
the advantages of the House Beautiful at a merely
nominal charge. This, of cours», was a matter
entirely private between Elizabeth and the girl
herself; indeed, I only heard of it from Polly a
long time after she had been an inmate of the
house.

" I have just seen Mrs. Hamilton, Polly," I said
frankly, and I shook hands with her with perhaps
more warmth than usual. " She has been telling
me of this sad trouble you are in, and I thought
I would just like to come and tell you that I
don't believe a word of it."

" Oh, don't you ? " she cried, and the tears
welled up in her bright, dark eyes. " I was just
feeling dreadfully low when I saw the carriage
drive up. It is such an awful thing; I am sure
it will kill poor mother when she hears of it ;

;

! f I

1 36

Mrs. K Elf 1 1 I u MI WON, M.S.

and I am afraid that, even if they can't find any
l)roof aj^ainst nie, tlicy will refuse to take me
back."

I sat down in front of her, and liesitated a
moment. It did not occur to me to put the (jnestion
straightly to her whether slie had taken the thing
or not, because I was entirely convinced in my
own mind tliat she had not ; but what was troubling
me was tlie montli's sojourn at Margate for her
mother and brother. Where had the funds come
from for that little expedition ?

" You have not seen your motlier for some little
time, have you ? " I began diplomatically, although
I inwardly felt a trifle guilty. " Mrs. Hamilton
tells me that she is at Margate at present."

To my surprise, and considerably to my dismay,
I saw a bright red flush overspread Polly's face.

" Yes, they are at Margate ; they went last week,
and I am sure it will do Artliur a great deal of
good."

" I am sure it will," I replied. " But it costs
a good deal of money to go down there, especially
at this season of the year, when seaside lodgings
are at their highest. Have you been saving up
a little nest ^g^ for this, Polly?"

THE LOST BliACEI.Et.

.87

So gnilcloss was tlie child that she did not per-
ceive tlie drift of my (inestioiis in the least.

"No, I have not saved up at all. It is dread-
fully hard to save," she said, pathetically. " You
see fifteen shillings a week is not a great deal when
one has to dress as we are obligeil to dress."

"No, it is not a princely sum, Polly," I replied.
" Have you, then, some kind friend who has come
to the rescue, by taking your brotljer out of the
smoky dulness of Plaistow for a month ? "

To my inward distress and concern, her confusion
seemed momentarily to increase.

" ' Yes, and no," she answered, all in a flutter.
" I liope you will excuse me, but I don't think
that 1 can tell you anything about it — at least,
not yet."

" I am sorry for tliat, Polly,' I replied gravely,
"because — and I think I may speak very plainly
to you now — don't you see that under the circum-
stances the fact that your mother and brother have
been able to go to the seaside, and especially if
you refuse to tell where the means came from for
them to go, makes your position rather serious ?
You are under suspicion, of course, as you know;
and unless you can satisfactorily explain this

I i

. I

1 88

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

nmisnal influx of money into your little circle, I
am afraid tliiiiojs may go rather hard with you."

She grew a little wliite, and pressed her lips
together rather firmlv.

" I am afraid I cannot tell," she replied, and
though her voice was very low, it was quite resolute;
" because, you see, I promised not to."

" Does Miriam happen to know anything abou'
it?" I asked then, and at my question the colour
leapt into her face again.

" I don't know how much or how little she knows.
I do not consider that Miriam has treated me very
well ; she is not a true friend, and I almost feel
tiiat she would be (juite glad if anything could be
proved against me.*'

*' Oh, I liope you are mistaken, my dear," I said,
gently. " But I really wish tliat you would recon-
sider your decision about not telling where this
money came from, because I do assure you that it
may turn out rather seriously for you."

*' I suppose they could only put me in the gaol I "
she said bravely, but I saw her lips blanch.

" Of course you would have to be convicted first,''
I replied, *'and we do not want things to go as far
as that. We do not want even a prosecution if it

THE LOST BRACELET.

189

can be avoided. Mrs. Hamilton has gone round
now to have an interview with the huly who lost
the bracelet, and it is just possible that she may call
here on her way back."

I waited a little longer to see whether Polly would
develop any inclination to trust me further concern-
ing this mysterious Margate trip, but she did not
allude to it again, and somehow neither could 1 ;
and though I left h .r with a very dissatisfied feel-
ing in my mind, yet 1 could not jmssibly believe
that she ihad actually stolen the thing, because if
ever innocence and guilelessness were written upon
any human face, they vjere written upon hers. Before
I left, 1 obtained from her, by a casual question, the
address of the lodgings at Margate to which her
mother and brother had gone, and as I liaj)pened to
have a reliable and not too inquisitive friend living
at Westgate that month, I wroce to her, and with-
out entering into full particulars, asked her to make
a little call upon the widow and see whether she
could, without seeming to question too closely, dis-
cover who had provided the wherewithal for the
month at the seaside. It mav be imagined tiiat I
waited with considerable impatience for a reply to
this letter, though it came very promptly on the

1 1

190

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

evening of the second day. It was satisfactory, and
yet it seemed to confirm the suspicion which 1 had
been so anxious to have dispelled. My friend said
that, in accordance with my request, she called i pon
Mrs. Hartley, and liad found her a very quiet, refined,
and interesting woman. Hearing that her visitor
had some acquaintance with me, and also with Mrs.
Hamilton, she talked very freely to her, and in the
course of conversation told her what a good, hard-
working, and self-denying daughter she had in
London, who never spared or considered herself, but
gave almost everything she possessed to those she
loved. She also mentioned casually that the money
to pay for the seaside trip had been a little present
made to Polly by her employers. This letter filled
me with the utmost dismay, because I ivnew perfectly
well that Polly's employers were not at all the sort
of people to make gratuitous presents to their sales-
women, and further, she had never even hinted at
such a thing in her conversation with me. 1 took
the letter along to Elizabeth, and we talked over it
together rather mournfully, feeling ourselves obliged
to come to tlie conclusion that things looked rather
black for Polly.

!plizabeth, who hated deceit and double-dealing

THE LOST BRACELET.

i^l

of every kind, was inclined to be rather more severe
than I expected, and I had to use all my powers of
persuasion to prevent her from swooping down uj)on
the unfortunate Polly there and then. She did go
to see her, however, that very day, and came along
to me afterwards. AVe were both intensely interested
in this little story, and I felt that 1 would give a
good deal to have Polly's innocence proved.

" I can't make anything of her, my dear," was
Elizabeth's greeting. " I have been talking very
seriously to her, but I can't get her to admit any-
thing. She became a little indignant at the end,
and said, since we all believed it possible for her to
be guilty of such a thing, that she was quite willing
to leave the house. I then explained to her that,
so long as she was under suispicion, she could not
possibly leave."

" But what are they going to do ? " 1 inquired,
anxiously. " Has Mrs. Vincent said anything further
about the prosecution ? "

" No, but Polly's employers have intimated to her
that they have no further need of her services."

We waited with patience during the next ibrtnight
for some further development of alfuirs, but none
came, and at the ead of that time Polly suddenly

:| :

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

left the House Beautiful without saying good-bye to
anybody except Marget, who was sincerely attached
to her, and determined to uphold her innocence before
the whole world. She did not say where she was
going, but I discovered that she had gone down
to Margate to join her mother and brother, and I
rather wished that 1 had heard of her seeking for
another situation, and the mystery of the funds
seemed to become greater than ever.

Elizabeth was a good deal concerned about Polly,
althongh she rather resented the way in which the
girl had withheld her confidence. However, it was
impossible for lier to bear malice or harbour resent-
ment for any length of time, and 1 was not surprised
to hear from her some little time afterwards that
she had got Polly another situation as assistant in
a small fancy goods business, where there would be
no chance of diamond watch-bracelets ly'ng about.

We did not hear anything about Polly for a con-
siderable time, although we sometimes spoke of the
affair, aud wondered if it would ever be cleared up.
Although Elizabeth did not tell me, I had a guoss
that she had made good the value of the bracelet
to Mrs. Vincent after she had persuaded her to
sil)stain from the prosecution ; and yet there were

THE LOST BRACELET.

»93

times when I secretly wondered whether after all it
might not have been fairer to Polly, and the best
course in the end to pursue, if the fullest inquiry
had been invited.

Miriam Wyime, of course, remained still in the
House Beautiful, and seemed to be very successful
in her business life, being promoted with most
unusual rapidity. She had been elected to fill Polly's
pliace, when she left, and appeared to give the
utmost satisfaction therein. She was no particular
favourite of mine, and I had never paid much
attention to her at all ; but Marget said to me one
day that she did not think the girl was well — that
she looked as if she had something on her mind.
I expressed my concern rather mildly perhaps,
having no strong personal interest in her, and I
was therefore very much surprised one evening
when I was told that Miriam Wynne had come to
my house, and was extremely anxious to have a
few words of conversation with me. It did not
occur to me, although I was somewhat surprised by
the announcement, to connect the visit in any way
with the past episode which had ended in Polly
Hartley leaving the House Beautiful. When I went
into the drawing-room and saw the girl standing,

■ i

194

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

I was distressed to see her looking so ill, and said
so as kindly as I could.

" I am in great trouble," she said, brokenly, " and
I am so miserable in my mind that I must .-alk^
to somebody. I am afraid to tell Mrs. Hamilton,
although she will have to know, so I thought I
would come to you first."

" Sit down," I said gently, " and tell me what I
can do for you. What kind of trouble are you in ? "

" Oh, all sorts," she replied, dismally. " It began
more than a year ago, a good while before the
trouble came to Polly Hartley."

"It has nothing to du with that, I hope," J
said, quickly.

" Well, it has and it has not ; but if you can
listen, I would like to tell you all about it from
the beginning. I was very happy, both in my work
and everything else, till two years ago, when I took
up with the man I expected to marry. I met him
at a Christmas dance at a friend's house, and he
seemed as much taken with me as I was with him.
I could not make out verv well what he was, but
my friends seemed to think him a fine gentleman ;
and certainly he dressed well, and of course looked
like a g*intlemuii W^e became veri' friendly, and

IHi

THE LOST BRACELET.

»9S

after a short time we were engaged. I was very
anxious to find out how he got his living, and I
could not altogether make it out, because sometimes
he seemed to have any amount of money, and at
others to be quite hard up. At last I found out
that he was connected with the turf. I was very
sorry when I found out this, because I was brought
up very strictly, and my father and mother had
the greatest horror of anything connected with
gambling. But still I was very fond of him, and
I thought perhaps I might be able to break him
off that connection ; but it is easier thinking such
a thing than doing it, and I found, instead of having
influence over him, he had a much stronger influence
over me. He had such a grand way of talking : he
used to tell me that we should liave a fine house
at Newmarket or Epsom when we were married,
and entertain all the swells, and that I would look
so well, just like a duchess, he used to say, if 1
was dressed as 1 ought to be. I took it all in,
because you see I was very fond of him, and I
believed everything he told me. So the thing went
on for twelve months. Sometimes, when he was
very hard up, and low in the spirits, I used to
lend him a sovereign if 1 liad if, and so graflunlly

■t %

•I

196

MliS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

ii ;

I (If

he began to look to me for it, and though I was
very proud and glad to be able to help him, still
I had a kind of secret feeling in my mind that
all was not right, and that a man who could borrow
money from a girl like me, who had to work so
hard to earn it, could not be all he ought. Just
at the time that Mrs. Vincent's bracelet was lost,
he was dreadfully hard u}) and in despair. He talked
about shooting himself, and all sorts of things, and
said he had a debt of honour to meet, only a small
one, but they were pressing him su hard that he
had no way of escape, and he had nowhere to turn
to get the money. Just the night before the bracelet
was lost we went for a walk in Hyde Park together,
and I felt so sorry for him. He said that if only
he could get out of this scrape, which would only
cost him about £2U if he had it, he would turn
over a new leaf, and be all 1 should desire. Perhaps
you will wonder at me, but he was so hanc^some and
so winning in his speech, that I just felt 1 could
make any sacrifice to help him and to get him
out of his difficulty. Therefore, the very next day,
when we were showing these Paris gowns, and when
Mrs. Vincent came to be fitted, 1 was carrying them
to and fro from a wardrobe (juite close to where

, ,.,-t.,J*, ■■

-4- . ■/

■■>-

i
*'

^^M

1 M^tll^i

^la^^^^l

^.'' ^Hi^^

'^2H

<il(^MW9^^^^l

■■EK^^S^J

l^^xv- ji^l

WSM^EM^tlM

TP^

' >, 'b

^ VF''''^-^jto

^^^^,wn*?W;

' IT WAS A8 EASY AS ANYTHING TO SLIP IT IN MY POCKET.'

(p.l»7.

THE LOST BR /ICE LET

»9;

Polly was occupied with lior, and one of the times
1 passed I saw the jewels flashing on the settee.
There was a great pile of ^lantles lying close by,
from which I had to noake a selection, so it was
as easy as anything to slip it in my pocket, and 1
jnf^t did."

" You took it, Miriam ? " I interrupted, surprised
and dismayed, " and allowed poor Polly to be blamed
for it all along?"

"Yes," she said, in a kind of dull voice. "You
see, after it was done I had to cover it up. I gave
it to Charlie next night, and explained it all to
him, and he got it disposed of, but I made him
promise that he would get it back again for me as
soon as he could. I liave never ceased to go on at
him about it ever since, because I have been so
miserable, and at last I have managed to get him
to restore it to me. He had put it away with a
friend of his who keeps a large pawnbroker's
establishment, and he advanced . the money on it
without saying anytliing about it. Here it is."

She took a little tissue paper packet from her
pocket, and unfolding it, exhibited to my astonished
gaze Mrs. Vincent's flashing jewels in the most
matter-of-fact and commonplace way, as if nothing

198

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

ont of the ordinary had happened. 1 was too mnch
astonished and too indi«]jnant to speak for a few
moments, but I made considerabit; haste to take
possession of tiie iimocent canse of so much anxiety
and trouble. I looked at the girl keenly as I did so,
wondering in how fur her re])entanee was sincere,
and whether she realised in the least the magnitude
of her sin. She iiad a pretty and attractive face,
l)ut there was not much character or de])tli of gjul
about her, and I could readily understand how quickly
and easily she became the prey of an unprincipled
man.

We had a long talk over it all, and I let her
go at length, able to promise nothing until I should
have consulted with Mrs. Hamilton. The first thiiigr
was to restore the bracelet to Mrs. Vincent, wlio
had shown a good deal of fo.'bearance over the loss
of the treasure she really prized, and then to
acquaint Polly with the hap])y manner in which
her innocence had been proved. I was not surprised
that the story made Elizabeth very angry : she
felt much inclined to hand over the precious pair
to the authorities at once without further parley,
but I asked her to wait until she should have
spoken to Miriam Wynne, which she did the next

THE LOST BRACELET.

199

(lay. Then slke ciimo round to my lionse, so that
we might drive together out to see Polly.

" She has taken the wind out of ray sails entirely,"
was Elizabeth's greeting, as I 8te])ped into the
carriage. " She has got married this morning to
her precious lover, and they are going off to America,
Marget tells me, this afternoon. In these circum-
stances, and seeing that the jewel is restored, and
we have the cliance to make some reparation to
Polly for our suspicions, what is there to be done ? "
* " Nothing," I admitted, " and I hope this will
be a wliolesome lesson to poor Miriam, and that
she will endeavour co keep her husband in the
straight path as well as to remain in it herself.
The fact that she owned up at the last moment
shows that she has some conscience left."

We found Polly apparently very happy and con-
tented in her narrow sphere, and she was genuinely
pleased, if surprised, to behold us. Without waiting
to make the sliglitest explanation, Elizabeth took
out the bracelet, and held it up before the girl's
astonished eyes. Her face flushed all over, and
she burst into tears.

"Oh, where did it come from, and where has it
been all this time ? " she cried, clasping her hands

200

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

together. " I always prayed that it would turn up,
and hoped it would."

Elizabeth told her in a few words the history of
the stolen bracelet, and was not slow to make a
very handsome apology for her oVn doubts of Polly's
sincerity. This the girl accepted somewhat painfully,
and looked as if she would rather we said nothing
at all about it.

We found out a considerable time after that the
extra money which had allowed the poor tired
mother and the ailing brother to enjoy the luxury
of a month at the seaside had been partly supplied
by Polly, who had made it by working overtime
at fine needlework in her own room, and partly
by her sweetheart, who was an engineer in one of
the great shipbuilding yards, and who had cheerfully
given of his hard-earned savings to help the relatives
of the girl he loved.

It gave Elizabeth very genuine pleasure to make
substantial amends to Polly for her unjust suspicion,
and she has been a happy wife now for several
vears.

" I don't feel," said Elizabeth, rather dubiously, as
we drove home that day, "as if our experiment at
the House Beautiful were quite f success. We hear

THE LOST BRACELET.

20I

SO much about environment nowadays that I have
looked for better results. Has it not struck you
that we have had a good many little deceptions
of one kind and another practised upon us by our
inmates ? "

"Oh, not more than you will find in any other
place where a few are gathered together. Environ-
ment, no doubt, is a good deal, and after all, there
are always the ordinary weaknesses and temptations
of human nature to contend with. You must not
get discouraged, Elizabeth."

" No, I suppose not,'' she replied, with a little
sigh, " and yet I wish it could be different. Oh, I
should like every one to have an ideal, and to live
up to it I "

" You and I will never live to see that day, Eliza-
beth," I replied, soberly, " because by that time the
millennium will have arrived, and we shall have
gone to our account elsewhere."

1 1

ill

n ij

IX.

LADV BETTY.

I HAD often wondered why Elizabeth did not more
rapidly develop an interest in politics. Her husband
was coming steadily to the front as a man of high
political principle, and sound, if not brilliant ability.
He was one of those who do much towards raisin «»•
the tone of public life, and it is not too much to
say that he was one of the most popular members
in the House. He was not one of those ready to
speak upon the spur of every moment, but when
he did speak he had something to say, and never
appeared before his colleagues with any slipshod or
poverty-stricken speech. Thus it was that his utter-
ances were always accorded attention, and carried a
certain weight with them as being those of a man
who thought before he spoke.

I did not go very much into the brilliant society
which, as Keith Hamilton's wife, Elizabeth gathered

ao5

ft 'i

206

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

mill

ill ^i

,11:

in
1 1!

about her in the beautiful old house in Belgrave
Square. There she raoved in the world wherein I
had little pla^ie, although sometimes, yielding to her
constant entreaties and reproaches, we would accept
one of her invitations, and when we did so we never
failed to enjoy it, nor to come away impressed by
the versatility of her character, and satisfied that
she was a very wholesome leaven in the circle in
which she moved. Although she had very few
relatives of her own, she was now connected by
marriage with many of the best families, and she
was a favourite with most of her husband's connec-
tions, although some of them thought her eccentric
in the extreme, and did not altogether approve of
the hobbies which she rode with such earnestness.

Among Elizabeth's intimate connections whom we
met occasionally at her house, there was one to
whom she was deeply attached, though that any
attachment between two so different should be pos-
sible was always a puzzle to me. This was Lady
Betty Yane, one of her husband's cousins, married
to a Yorkshire squire, a man of immense wealth,
considerably older than herself, and not at all the
sort of person one would have thought the gay Lady
Betty would have elected to marry. She was quite

lit

'.'.!'.:

LADY BETTY.

207

young, not more than five-and-twenty, a beautiful,
clever, and vivacious creature, an incorrigible flirt,
and to outward seeming one of those butterflies who
are content to flutter gaily through life, evading all
its serious issues and shirking its responsibilities.
What fascination this brilliant creature exercised
over my sober Elizabeth I could not tell, but it is
certain that they really and truly loved each other,
and were more like sisters than mere connections
by marriage.

Geoffrey Vane was in Parliament also, where,
however, he did not shine, although he could always
be reckoned upon to vote straight with his party.
When the General Election put the country into a
fever in August, Geoffrey Vane had to make a fight
for his seat, and as Mr. Hamilton's own seat was
safe and uncontested, he went into Yorkshire to
help his cousin's husband. Elizabeth, of course,
accompanied him, and I heard from her from time
to time about the lively proceedings taking place
ia the constituency. It was a new experience for
Elizabeth, this electioneering campaign, and I could
gather from her occasional letters that she was
enjoying it very much, and had thrown herself into
it heart and soul. There was a large party staying

• \ ■ f f

■ :'! i

; i«

^ii

2o8

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

■\ Hi!

;, m

a ',c!i !

1 :

%■

at the Court, which was the name of the Vanes'
Yorkshire estate, and they appeared to be having
a very lively month of it. The Keith Hamiltons
remained in Yorkshire all the time we were in
Scotland, and I was home in my own house for the
autumn before they proceeded northwards. Some
little business matters brought them to London for
a day or two before they went on to Flisk, and as
it was the dead season in town, and there was very
little to distract Elizabeth's attention, 1 saw a great
deal of her.

We were sitting together alone one evening after
she had dined with us, her husband having been
obliged to entertain some friends at his club. I
saw a kind of thoughtful look come on Elizabeth's
face as she sij)ped her coffee meditatively.

" I have been wondering all day," she said, sud-
denly, " whether 1 ought to tell you. It would make
a fine story for your magazine, although it hardly
comes within the province of my experiences ;
besides, I am not quite sure whether Betty would
like it."

'*You might as well tell it to me, anyhow," 1
suggested, " and as two heads are better than one,
we could then decide whether it could go into

LADY BETTY.

209

the magazine or not. I rather think that it might
be interesting to give some of your electioneering
experiences."

"Oh, but it has nothing to do with the election,—
at least, not much. It is something about Betty
and her husband, something which has interested
me more than I can tell, although it came very
near being a tragedy."

"You will tell me anyhow, Elizabeth," I said
pleadingly, for she had whetted my curiosity, and
I was sufficiently interested in the lovely' Lady
Betty to want to hear anything especially concern-
ing her.

^ " Oh yes, I shall tell you. I might as well tell
you sooner as later, because I am sure I could not
keep it from you always, aftd I do not think
Betty would mind very much your knowing. You
have met them a good many times at our
house: did it ever strike you that there was
anything strained in the relations between her and
Geoffrey?"

"I do not know that J ever noticed anything
particularly strained, but I have certainly often
thought that they were not a particularly well-
matched pair. Mr. Vane, I know, is a very estimable "

I I

■ft I

i:|

2IO

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

i, . iil!

'!;S

man, but he is hardly — well, hardly a mate for
Lady Betty."

" That is the world's opinion generally, bnt I don't
like to hear it from your lips," said Elizabeth,
quite gravely, " because it is all at sea. I am
very fond of Betty, and always have been, but
at the same time, now I know them both, I have
no hesitation in saying that, with all her grace
and beauty and wit, she is not fit to hold a candle
to her husband— honest, true-hearted Geoffrev
Vane."

" You never can tell what is beneath the surface,
of course," I said gravely, vaguely apologetic.
" One can only judge from outward appearances."

"You onght to have more discretion by now,"
said Elizabeth, severe without intention ; " but
there, I believe 1 made the same mistake myself
at first, for I remember saying to Keith long ago,
when I met them first, that I did not know how
anybody, least of all a lovely creature like his
cousin, could marry Geoffrey Vane."

'• What made her do it ? " 1 ventured to ask.
* Was it the usual case of money gilding a
pill?"

" J^o, that ip the odd bit of it ? Petty has quite

LADY BETTY.

21 I

a considerable income of her own, and it would not
bave mattered suppose she had never married any-
body. She married the man with her eyes open.
Of course, he was madly and ridiculously in love
with her, but so were many others."

" How long have they been married ? " I asked.

" Four years only. Keith told me that she had
a lot o*" lovers when she was a girl, and that
there was one whom she was suj)posed to favour
a good deal, although her father highly disap-
proved of him, because he was only a captain in
the army with nothing but his ])ay — no ]»rospects
whatever, although he came of a fairly good family.
His name was Raymond Brand ; he was in India
at the time of her marriage, and 1 believe they
had not met since. In the interval, through the
unexpected death of a distant relative, he has come
into a large fortune and a iine estate in Yorkshire,
within driving distance of the Court. I had heard
that Mr. Vane's opponent was Captain Brand, but
it was not until we went down that Keith told
me the circumstances, and that he was Betty's old
lover, who had made a good deal of dispeace in
the family years before. This, of course, gave
an a4ditional interest to the fray, and 1 Jookec}

! H

2ia

MRS. KE:TH HAMILTON, M.B.

lii i,|Ir.,

n i

'U'U

ill i '
i n,

forward with a good deal of anticipation to its
development.

" The first morning we were there Betty drove
me in her own cart into Market Leighton to open
the campaign, as she said, merrily. She was
looking her loveliest, I thonght. You know how
well she dresses ; 1 thought that day she had
surpassed herself, and that they would be very
hard-hearted and unappreciative electors indeed
who could resist her.

" * Has Keith told you anything about Geoffrey's
opponent, Elizabeth ? ' she asked me as we drove
through the gates.

" I suppose I must have looked a little guilty,
for before I could reply she continued :

" * Ah, I see he has, and you know that Caj>tain
Brand was an old lover of mine, and that I had
not met him for years. I felt rather queer when
I heard first who was going to contest the seat,
but now I think I am rather pleased than otherwise.
It certainly gives zest to the whole proceedings.*

" ' Have you met him since you came down ? ' I
asked.

"*No, I have not seen him since we parted
sweethearts five years ago,' she replied, frankly ;

LADY liETTY.

-J'i

'but 1 »vant to see him awtully. He was withuiit
exce])tion the handsomest fellow 1 ever saw.'

" ' Well, the probability is that yon will see plenty
of him,' I said quietly. ' Probal)ly you may come
across him this morning. I slionld think it likely.'

" ' That is wliat I am going to Market Leighton
for,' replied Betty, with the utmost frankness.

" I looked at her witii some amusement, and I
saw from the light in her eyes, and the way she
handled her whip and reins, that the spirit of
mischief v as in her, and that she was in one of her
most reckless moods. It was no business of mine,
however, to say anything to her just then. I own
I felt myself a good deal interested in the situation,
and eager to see Captain Brand. We drove straight
to Mr. Vane's committee rooms, where Keith and
he had been busy since after breai^fast ; and after
we had lunched together, a very merry party, in
the county hotel, Betty and I set out to do a little
personal canvassing, into which she seemed disposed
to throw herself heart and soul. I may mention
that neither of our gentlemen had yet seen the
opposing candidate, who was either in no haste to
appear on the field of battle, or felt so sure of his
ground that he. was taking it very easily.

214

Mrs^ kkiTti Hamilton, MM.

If I

■i^p

;!;:ii

■'#«

" I tnnst not stop to tell you anything about our
house-to-house visitations ; we had some very amusing
experiences, and the Way Betty wheedled and coaxed
and won the hearts of the householders was a lesson
to me in the art of feminine diplomacy. We had
agreed to meet again at the hotel at half-past four
for tea. and were proceeding down the wide, pic-
turesque High Street towards our destination, when
we saw two gentlemen coming towards us. Bet^^^'s
colour heightened a little.

" ' Ob, Elizabeth,' she whispered, * here is Captain
Brand. Are not we in luck ? '

" They were upon us before I could reply. The
taller of the two, who by his general oppearance
and military bearing was easily distinguished, ap-
peared undecided what to do ; but Betty solved the
problem by standing still in the middle of the
street, and extending her hand with a bewildering
smile.

" * How do you do. Captain Brand ? ' she said,
sweetly. * Although we are on the war path
politically, it need make no difference to us privately.
Don't you feel this to be a very interesting oc-
casion ? "

"* Indeed I do. Lady Betty,' he replied, with a

LADY \BETTY.

good deal of significance in his tone. And while
they exchanged their bantering words, I had a full
opportunity of taking in Captain Raymond Brand,
in so far as one can do it at a first meetingj He
was certainly very handsome^ with a tall, finely
proportioned figure, a dark sunburnt face, and a
pait of particularly keen dark eyes. It did flash
across my mind as we stood there that Betty and
he made a good-looking pair, and I wished that nature
had been more lavish in her gifts to Geoff'-ey Vane.
But somehow, even at that first meet' ig, I took
an unaccountable dislike to the man : there was
something in the shifting glance of his eye, and
in the slightly mocking smile which played about
his mouth, which repelled me, and though his voice
was very musical and well modulated, 1 imagined
that I detected in it a false ring. Oh yes, I believe
I was prejudiced against him, and that my sincere
rega-d for Geoff'rey made me impatient and unjust
towards the man who had once been his rival. I
had never seen Betty more animated, nor looking
lovelier, and I was astonished that she did not
resent the very candid compliments paid to her by
her old admirer ; indeed, there was altogether too
much familiarity in his manner to please me, and

>i|

Iffl

i '

2l6

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

;• I

iWii

I said so promptly to Betty the moment that we
had parted.

" ' Well, you see,' she said, a little apologetically,
' we were so intimate in the old days — sweethearts,
Elizabeth, from the time we were so high. It is
not easy to be stiff and prim and conventional to a
man you have known all your days. Now, confess,
isn't he divinely handsome ? '

"'Oh, his looks are well enough," I replied, dis-
contentedly ; and as we approached the door of the
hotel, we saw our respective husbands standing on
the steps waiting for us. I thought I had never
seen Geoffrey Vane look to less advantage. Perhaps
his close proximity to my tall good-man made
his figure seem even more squat and ungainly than
usual, but nothing could ever mar the honest
kindliness of his face, and the true, tender gleam
of his grey eyes. 1 was vexed to see from Betty's
face that she also was drawing an inward contrast,
and somehow a kind of chill fear fell upon my heart.
You know how Geoffrey regards his wife ; I often
say to Keith that it is not love, but blind idolatry,
and I should dearly like to tell him that if he
were less slavishly devoted to her, she would
probably think a good deal more of him.

LADY BEIIY.

.M7

" Now that the campaign had started in earnest,
we were bound to see a good deal of (Captain Brand ;
in fact, we were always meeting him, a great deal
oftener than I liked, or than I thought was good
for Betty, and I made a point of sticking to her
at all hours and seasons, never allowing her to
have any opportunity of talking alone to her old
lover. Sometimes I rebuked mvself for taking such
extraordinary precautions, which of course indicated
a certain distrust of Betty ; but I do think, dear,
that one has intuition about these sort of things,
and that I was quite right in what I did. The
more I saw him, the less I liked him, and it vexed
me very much that Betty did not resent the
familiarity of his manner when we met. She is
very fond of me, as you know, and allows me to
talk very plainly to her; but the first time I hinted
at my disapproval of the very many meetings and
conversations we seemed to be having with Captain
Brand, she turned upon me a little freezing glance
which indicated that I might go so far and no
farther. All the time, however, she was working
her hardest for Geoffrey. You must not imagine
for a moment her interest in the conflict flagged,
or that she had basely gone over to the other side.

:»«

I'' I

i. hi!

2i8

y^/?5. ATE/f// HAMILTON, M.B.

'h\

I watched her very closely, and thefe was a good
deal in her behaviour which troubled me. There
was no doubt whatever that she was keenly inter-
ested in Captain Brand, that she looked conscious
in his presence, and 1 feared once or twice that
the spell of long ago was exercising rather a stronger
influence over her than even I or any one who loved
her could possibly like to see. Geoffrey, who as
}0u know is the kindest and most generous of souls,
was very friendly with his opponent, and there were
none of those bitter and personal passages between
them which so often give an unpleasant flavour to
electioneering campaigns. But I often thought that
he was unnecessarily civil to Captain Brand, and
when it came to inviting him to dinner at the
Court during the last week of the fight, I said to
Keith that really I could not approve of it, and
that I thought it would have been much better for
all concerned if they had been content to preserve
an attitude of disjnified courtesv towards each other
outside. I did not hint to him anything at all
about my suspicions of Betty ; somehow I dare not
be so disloyal to her ; and besides, the idea was
too painful to myself to be allowed to find voice.
" There was a considerable party at the Court

LAi^Y BETTY.

J19

that night, and, of course, the fact that we were
entertaining the rival candidate ^ave a piquancy to
the gathering which nothing else could have done.
I thought Betty surpassed herself in every possible
way. I had never seen her looking more radiant,
nor talking more brilliantly. Captain Brand had
the seat of honour beside her, and their war of wit
— I can describe it by no other words — monopolised
the attention of the whole table. Geoffrey seemed
a little dull and out of sorts, and I saw a peculiar
look in his eyes once or twice, which indicated, I
thought, a vague envy of his rival's undeniably
superior personal charms and ability to make himself
so brilliantly agreeable.

" It was a lovely, warm evening, and the gentlemen,
instead of remaining at the table, smoked their
cigars on the terrace, to which the French windows
of the dining-room gave easy access. We were in
one of the ground-floor drawing-rooms, whose windows
opened out similarly, so that it became a kind of
informal garden party in the dark, if I may so put
it. I thought it was extremely bad taste of Captain
Brand to single out Betty for such very marked
attention, because most of those dining with us were
county people in the neighbourhood, who remembered

1 r

220

AIRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

r I

:*:i

perfectly well the love passages that had been
between them before her marriage with Geoffrey
Vane, and I was so angry with Betty that I could
scarcely make myself agreeable to the people to
whom I was obliged to talk. I determined not to
be deterred by anything she might say from letting
lier know before we slept exactly what I thought
of her, and to warn her against a continuance of
the conduct which only made peoi>le talk, and which
was certainly very wounding to her husband.

"(;aptain Brand and one or two gentlemen
lingered after the rest of the company had de-
parted, and I am sure I am not exaggerating when
I say that he and Betty walked up and down that
terrace alone together for quite half an hour while
the other gentlemen were engaged talking in the
smoking-room. I was sitting quite alone in the
drawing-room ; and feeling at last that I really
could not endure it any longer. tJiough I knew
that my intrusion would be far from welcome, I
went to the hall to get a wrap, so that I could
join the couple on the terrace. Just as I was
taking it from the wardrobe. Captain Brand came
somewhat hastily into the hall alone, and without
looking at me, or making the slightest observation

"he and BETTY WALKED UP AND DOWN." ( /). 220.

I ..

;.:''M

;?fi

K 41

j:i

III

LADY BETTY.

221

or ipology, he took his hat and coat from their
places and walked ont. I followed him to the
door, but could see nothing, only heard his foot-
steps crunching the gravel under foot as he walked
rapidly down the drive. Considerably puzzled by this
hasty departure, I laid down the wrap and returned
to the drawing-room, where I found Betty shutting
up the French windows, with a hasty and nervous
manner, which rendered me extremely suspicious.
It was not the thing she would have done in
ordinary circumstances at all, and I rather expect
that it was to keep her face hidden from my obser-
vation that she lingered so long about it.

"'Aren't they going yet, those men in the
smoking-room ? ' she asked, without turning her
head. * It is nearly midnight. I really wish they
would take themselves oft. Don't you think it
has been a very long evening ? '

" ' I have not thought about it, Betty,' 1
said. ' Did you know that Captain Brand had
gone ? '

" * Yes,' she replied, curtly, and drawing the
heavy curtains across the window with a distinct
jerk, she presently turned her face to me. Then

white, and there was a

t i

that

was very

u»

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

V ^

i! , li

strange expression on it which somewhat prepared
me for her words.

" * Elizabeth,' she said, with a sharp, shrill ring
in her voice, * will you tell me quite candidly, as
you usually do, whether you have seen anything in
my conduct lately which would justify any man
offering me the greatest insult it is possible for a
man to offer to a woman ? '

" ' I have disapproved a good deal of your extrerxie
friendliness with (*aptain Brand,' I replied, without
the slightest hesitation. ' Still, I should not like
to say that I liave seen anything light in your
conduct ; in fact, if I had, I should not have been
able to hold my tongue about it.'

" * You lift a load from my mind, and I believe
you,' she said, with a look of intense gratitude in
her wonderful eves. ' 1 know 1 hat vou don't like
him, that you have never liked him since yon met
him first, and now I know that you were right.
He is one of those men to whom it is not safe to
speak except in the most matter-of-fact and common-
place way. I Vfill admit that I was interested in
him, and that the romance of the past lent a kind
of zest to our meetings ; but I thought that as
Gpoflfrey's wife I ivas safeguarded, ^n^ t)iat he

LADY BETTY.

213

would never seek to overstep the bounds of ordinary
acquaintance, or at least friendship — for I suppose
we have been very friendly. But he has imagined
all along,' she cried, with a little angry stamp of
her foot, ' that there has been something else in
my mind altogether : in plain language, that I was
in love with him, and that I am unhappy with my
husband, and would only be too glad to be assured
that he has not forgotten me.*

" I shall never forget her look as she stood iher.,
with one hand clenched on the table and the other
in the exquisite lace which draped her bodice, her
lovely face flushed a little now with the pain and
shame of it, her whole attitude one of outraged
dignity.

" ' But you undeceived him, Betty ; I could see
that from his look,' 1 said quickly.

" ' Yes, I think I did undeceive him. 1 managed,
although I thought the words would choke me, to
tell him that one hair of my husband's head is
dearer to me than he ever was in the old days when
1 thought I did care for him ; and I told him some
other plain truths, too, which 1 hope that he will
remember. But oh, Elizabeth, to think that I should
have Ipiid payself open to thiS ! Wjiat wpujd Qeoffrey

■i:i

334

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

v I

ill

say ? Why did you allow me to make such a fool
of myself?'

" * Never mind, dear ; it won't happen again,' 1
said, soothingly. * I am glad that you have been
able to give Captain Brand the very wholesome
lesson he requires.'

"1 did not add what was in my heart — that my
proud, beautiful Betty had also got a lesson which
I hoped and expected would last her for many a
day. She was still looking very white and rather
excited wlien the gentlemen came out of the
adjoining room, the last carriage being at the
iloor.

"'Hallo! where is Brand?' said GeottVey's
cheery voice. * I thought he was in here with you,
little woman,' he added to his wife.

'* ' He has just gone,' I said quickly, for I saw
that Betty was hard put to it to answer com-
posedly. * Didn't he look in to say good-night to
you ? ' I felt obliged to ask that absurd and super-
fluous question in order to put some kind of decent
face on the matter. , ,

" ' No, we have never set eyes on him since the
Traffords left.'

"*0h, I daresay he will explain and apologise

-i:

LADY BETTY.

225

to-morrow,* I answered. Then the good-nights were
said, and the last gueHts departed.

" As we came in from the hall I saw Geoffrey
look keenly and anxiously at his wife, and finally
lay a kind hand on her arm.

" ' I am snre it has been too mneh for you, Betty,*
he said, all that great tenderness of his shining in
his honest face. * It was too bad of me to hayo
all those fellows to dine on top of all the fatigue
you go through for me in the daytime.'

" I saw a little shiver pass over Betty, and
seemingly unconscious that Keith and I were only
a few steps away, she suddenly flung herself in
her husband's arms. Then I beckoned to Keith,
and we slipped away upstairs to our own rooms,
where I, of course, was bound to relate to him
the incident of the evening as known to me.

" Next morning there was very little trace of
last night's excitement in Betty's look or manner —
in fact, she was singularly quiet ; but I could see
that between Geoflfrey and her there was a very
perfect understanding, and 1 knew that their
happiness had gotten a new lease of life.

" We did not go into Market Leighton that day,
nor the next, but we all drove in together on the

lij

'■I

■ w
■i,2

li'

226

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

following day, and were extremely busy doing what
we could to further the interests of the candidate
in whom we were so intensely interested. We saw
Captain Brand several times in the distance, but
never at close quarters, nor was his name once
mentioned between us. You know what a splendid
majority Geoffrey had, and the pride of his wife
over it was one of the most beautiful and touching
things I have ever seen. It was easy enough to
see that the chief joy of his triumph was to be
found in his wife's satisfaction over it, and so we
came away and left them, I think, one of the
happiest couples in the world."

THE PATIENTS IN LITTLE MERRICK

STREET.

■ 3

*.„

CHAPTER X.
THE PATIENTS IN LITTLE MERRICK STREET.

"How do you find your medical knowledge, Eliza-
beth?" I asked one night. "Is it getting a little
rusty through never being called into play?"

"I do not think so," answered Elizabeth, with
a little smile. "I am as mnch interested in it
all as ever, and read the medical journals with a
great deal more regularity than I ever did when
I was a practitioner. Of course it is just possible
that if I were suddenly plunged into practice again
to-morrow, I might find myself a little rusty ; but
I was pleased the other night to find that my
wits had not deserted me, and that I rose to the
emergency in quite a creditable manner."

" When was that, Elizabeth ? " I asked. " Would
it make a story ? "

" Oh, you look at everything from one standpoint.
I believe your sole interest in me is as a provider

sag

230

J»//?S. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

l! \.

■ I)

of copy, but I give you fair warning that I have
placed myself on the retired list, and that after
this I shall tell you no more ; at least, if I do,
it will be in such disjointed fragments that it will
be practically of no use to you."

" But I can invent, Elizabeth," I suggested, " and
I might improve your facts out of all knowledge."

" I quite believe you to be capable of it. But,
seriously, this little incident was rather interesting,
and 1 don't mind telling you it, or allowing you
to print it either, because it could not possibly do
the slightest harm to anybody."

" Very well," I said ; " 1 am all attention."

"Well, the other night Keith and I were dining
with the Gavestons in Sussex Place. He went
down to the House from there, and left me to
drive home alone. It was on Tuesday night, and
you remember what a frightful fog there was ;
at least, away in the West-End we could not see
a yard before us, and we were obliged to have
two linkmen for the carriage both coming and going.
It was just about eleven o'clock when Keith put
me in the carriage and went off in his hansom to
the House. I was thinking about him as we drove
very slowly home, and 1 wished with all my heart

THE PATIENTS IN LITTLE MERRICK STREET. 231

that he had been with me, more for his own sake
than mine, because I have all a countrywoman's
nervousness of those horrible fogs. But they ex-
pected an important division, and I knew that he
felt he ought to be in his place. We had to drive,
of course, very slowly, and I am not sure that
Donaldson, carefu. Jehu though he is, was altogether
sure of his bearings during the journey. I thought
we should be getting near home when we suddenly
came to a standstill through some block in the
roadway, and then I was much disgusted to dis-
cover that we had not got very far beyond the
end of Baker Street. After sitting there for about
ten minutes listening to the shouts of the police-
men and the protests of the perplexed and baffled
drivers of the various veh'cles, we went on again
very slowly. It was bitterly cold, and I could
not help thinking with longing of my comfortable
little room at home, and my cup of beef-tea which
I knew would be ready for me. Suddenly the
horses were sharply drawn up ; there was a con-
fused noise and a scream which cut sharp and
startling through the muffled air, and filled me
with sudden terror, lest any human being had
come to grief under my horses' feet. I drew my

■m

•J'

■^mSemSBflMBMiV

232

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

wrap ronnd my head, and, opening the window,
tried to discern something through the gloom, but
the fog was so dense that I could see absolutely
nothing, scarcely the gleam of the carriage-lamps.

"*What is it, Donaldson?' I cried. *Will you
get down and see at once, in case any one is
hurt?'

" I discerned William as he sprang from the
box, then one of the linkmen brought his torcii
to bear on the darkness, and I saw a figure wiiich
looked like that of a woman huddled on the greasy
pavement quite close to the horses' feet. Yon
know how wise and gentle the creatures are, and
how they will not willingly trample on a human
being ; nevertheless, I was thankful when they
pulled her out of her dangerous position. In a
moment I opened the carriage door and jumped
out. I could smile still when I think of the
figure I must have presented with a pair of par-
ticularly thin and light satin slippers, which the
greasy London mud by no means improved. The
icy chill of the atmosphere seemed to lay hold of
me as I stepped out into it, but in a moment I
forgot personal discomfort in my absorbing interest
in the poor creature whom they had now raised

*fe<;yj'

THE PATIENTS IN LITTLE MERRIC\< STREET. 233

l*</'<i ,

to her feet and were supporting her between them.
Once more I was Elizabeth Glen, M.B., and I
am sure that never in her palmiest days did she
take more vivid and intelligent interest in the
case than in that one so curiously brought under
her notice. .

• "1 saw, though the light was poor and unsteady,
that my new and unexpected patient was a faded
and worn-looking woman, who might have been any
age from thirty to fifty. She was very poorly
dressed, and looked as if she sometimes lacked the
necessaries of life. Certainly she was a strarger
to its comforts and its luxuries, but wil.al there
was an air of distinct refinement and gentlehood
about her which impressed me very much. Her
face was deathly white, and I saw that she had a
very ugly wound on her head, but how caused I
could scarcely decide. For a moment I was at a
loss what to do ; we were at a considerable distance
from a hospital, even if we could make sure of
getting there in any decent time. We were equally
far from my house, where I had everything that
was necessary to treat her with. What was I to
do ? My old experience of dealing with emergency
did not, however, quite desert me at this trying

I \

234

Mas. KEITH HAMILTON, MM.

f§

.. U!

ll r

: *,■'!■

I i

ii>i I

moment, and though much npset, and having
evidently received a severe shock to her nervous
system, she was not unconscious, and would probably
be "ble to answer any questions I might put to her.
I i)jit» I superfluous remarks, but simply asked
her, 1" .t,u. nf course, in a kind and sympathetic
tone, whether sue lived near. She opened her eyes
surprised — surprised, I suppose, at the sound of a
woman's void, and still more surprised, I could see,
at beholding a vision in such extraordinary attire
standing in the middle of the street.

" * Yes,' she replied, * I live quite close at hand,
in Little Merrick Street. I came out to try and
get a doctor for ray little boy. There is a dis-
pensary not very far away, but I have been more
than half an hour trying to get there.'

''She was only able to speak those words slowly
and with difficulty, and 1 saw that as she gradually
recovered from her own personal shock, the anxiety
which had driven her out to seek assistance for her
child again rose uppermost in her mind. I hesitated
only a moment.

" ' We must find this poor lady's home, Donaldson,'
I said, looking up at the coachman. ' Put her in
the carriage,' I added to William, 'and drive as

THE PATIENTS IN LITTLE MERRICK STREET. 235

fast as may be safe to Little Merrick Street. What
is the number, may I ask ? '

" ' Thirteen : it is quite near,' replied the woman
faintly — * at least, I think it is ; although I seem
to have been wandering about a good while, I
haven't gone very far, I know.'

" * Oh, it is just at hand, ma'a" ,' said the link-
man cheerfully. 'I know it. I liv i there once
myself for nigh on four years.'

"'Then you had better lead ^'le way,' I said
quickly ; and entering the ca^ hgf^ beside my poor
friend, we moved slowly away.

" It took us about tea minutes, I think, to come
to our destination. Of course, it was impossible
for me to see what manner of street it was, only
the thoroughfare was undeniably narrow, and also
rough, as the carriage-wheels jolted a good deal
more than I was accustomed to. I did not ask any
questions of my companion, because I saw that she
was very much exhausted, and that the first thing
necessary was that she should be attended to.
Before we alighted from the carriage, I pinned
the train of my gown up under my cloak, and was
ready for action. She looked at me dubiously as
I did so.

■j ,

■.£'ril

236

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

" ' You cannot twne in, I think, madam,' she said
hesitatingly ; * we have a very poor place, and
besides I really ought to liave kept on seeking for
the doctor for poor little Eric, only I was so dazed
with my fall tliat 1 could not collect my thoughts
all at once.'

"'You have got to be attended to first,' I replied
laconically, ' and you need not be afraid of me. I
am a doctor, and know exactly what should be
done. I shall be able probably to help your little
boy at the same time.'

" She flashed a grateful and astonished glance at
me, and made no further demur. We got down
presently, and the face of William, and also of
Donaldson, I dares.iy, if I had chanced to look up
at him, made a very excellent study as I gave my
companion my arm and entered with her the narrow
doorway which led to number thirteen. It was one
of those narrow, confined, and miserable little houses
which are so plentiful all over the city, let out in
rooms to so many dilierent families, and in its arrange-
ments and general conditions was everything it
should not be.

" It was now about half-past eleven, and the
house was very quiet ; the only sound which wo

THE PATIE.\TS IN UTTLE MERRICK STREET. 237

beard as we mounted the narrow stairs was the
feeble wail of an infant, which, however, did not
belong to ray new friend. Wlien we got to the
top floor, I saw that she was very much exhausted,
and fflad to sit down wlien we entered the room.
8he had lost a good deal of blood through the
wound on her head, though I had bound it up as
fast as I could with the materials available, and
she Was so poorly nourished that she had not been
able to withstand ihe sudden shock of fear which
such an accident naturally caused her. She sank
into a chair at once, and then there came forward
from the inner room a tall slij) of a girl about
fourteen, very hollow-eyed and miserable-looking,
but with a sweet gentleness of expression which
touched me at once. She fkislied one quick glance
of unspeakable amazement at me, and then ran to
my patient, who was sitting on the chair, and
appeared to be in a kind of collapsed state.

" ' Oh, auntie, what has happened ? * she cried ;
and 1 was astonished at the form of her address,
because I made sure that they were mother and
daughter.

" ' Your aunt has had an accident, my dear,' I
said quickly, ' but 1 hope it is nothing serious.

■,.,.JiJWfi —»•-

iiiii

11 I 1

.ill J:

238

A/7?5. /f£/7-// HAMILTON, M.B.

Get me some water and anything to make a band-
age of as quickly as possible, my good girl, and
we shall talk after.'

"I was pleased and rather surprised to see how
comj)leteIy the creature had her wits about her.
In a few seconds she had provided me with
what I required, and I bandaged up the injured
head to the best of my ability, she looking on
amazed, I suppose, at the spectacle of a person in
such extraordinary garb performing this slight
operation.

" * Have you got any stimulant in the house ? '
I asked the girl in a whisper.

^' She shook her head rather sadly.

" * No, we haven't any.*

" ' Not even a drop of brandy ? ' I suggested.

" * No, nothing ; we never have any.'

" * Couldn't you get it ? It would be quite unsafe,
of course, for you to go out in the streets ; but is
there no one in the house who could oblige you
with a little?*

"'There is the landlady,* she said hesitatingly.

" I guessed at once the cause of her hesitation.

"*Ju8t go and ask her to step up here, will
you ? * I said quickly, because I had no purse in

THE PATIENTS IN LITTLE MERRICK STREET. 239

le,

my pocket, and conld not therefore give her the
wherewithal to purchase it.

" She flew off, and in a very few minutes she
returned with the landlady, who brought a brandy
bottle with her. She was rather a vinegar-faced
and unpropitious-looking female, who would be in-
clined, I .raagined, to be rather hard upon any
impecunious tenants. But I found her most willing
to assist me in every possible way, and in a few
minutes I had the satisfaction of seeing the colour,
such as it was, creep back faint and flickering to
my patient's pale cheek.

" ' I feel much better, thank you,' she said, look-
ing at me with a glance of gratitude. ' How is
Eric now ? ' she said, turning quickly to the girl.

" * Just about the same, I think,' the girl answered.

" ' Where is he ? ' 1 inquired. * I should like to
see him. Perhaps I may be of some use.'

" * He is in the next room,' she answered, rising
to her feet ; and I followed her rather unsteady
steps into the adjoining apartment, where there
was a little boy of about seven lying on the bed.

" I heard his breathing before I entered the
room, and had no difticulty in diagnosing hk case
even before I saw it. The poor child was evidently

MMM

:;Mi

^i '!■

In III I

240

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

a victim to asthma, which the frightful condition
of the atmosphere aggravated to the worst possible
degree ; indeed, liis condition was most alarming.
It seemed impossible almost that he could draw
another breath. When I made a further examina-
tion, I found him to be suftering also from acute
pneumonia, and that, altogether, he was in a very
critical state. I was rather pt^rplexed what to do,
being far from remedies, the fog of course increas-
ing tlie distance to immeasurable limits. But what
little I could do, I did to make him more comfort-
able for the night, and then told her that I should
come the first thing in the morning, or send a
medical man if she preferred it.

" * Perhaps you would not mind telling me your
name, and a little about yourself,' 1 said, as we went
back into the sitting-room.

" * My name is Martin — Elizabeth Martin,' she
said.

" ' I suppose you are a widow ? ' I suggested, as
delicately as I could.

" ' No, ma'am, I am not, neither am I married.
These are not my children, though I call them so,
and though 1 love them as dearly as if they were
my own.'

THE PATIENTS IN LITTLE MERRICK STREET. 241

" ' Ah, I think I heard this dear girl call you
aunt,' I said understandingly. ' I suppose they are
the children of your brother or your sister?'

" * No, no relatives. Perhaps another time I will
tell you about them, but not to-night, I can never
thank you enough for what you have done for me.
Just think if I had been killed or even carried away
to a hospital, as I certainly should liave been if
you had not brought me home, what would have
betome of my poor children ? ' ...

*• ' There is always a Providence watching over
us in our straits,' I replied, as cheerily as possible.
* Well, it is getting very late, and I must not
stay longer to-night. I hope 1 shall see you very
early in the morning j I can come directly after
breakfast.'

"I bade good- night to them, and was escorted

downstairs by the landlady, to whom I gave sundry

directions, which she received with attention, and

promised to carry out with alacrity. I had observed

that there was no fire in the little room, and that

their only light was a candle, which flickered

dismally, making the gloom and the denseness of

the atmosphere only more visible. I was not

.surprised to hear from her that they were very

¥W

iiBH

242

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

poor, and though they had never actually got into
debt, they were often without the necessaries of
life. She had not been harder upon them, perhaps,
than was < to be expected ; indeed, she spoke, I
thought, with a good deal of feeling of the devotion
of the woman upstairs to the two children, to whom
she had been more than a mother.

" I thouglit a great deal of them, of course, as
I drove home, which we managed to do in a some-
what reasonable time, finding as we drove westward
that the fog was inclined to lift.

" Next morning I was at the house in Little
Merrick Street before ten o'clock, and the morning
being fine, and clear, and bracing, I was not sur-
prised to find my little patient considerably im-
proved. Elizabeth Martin herself looked rather
weak and ill, having not yet quite recovered from the
effects of the shock. We had quite a long talk,
and though I found her rather reticent about her
own affairs, I gathered enough from what she said
to come to the conclusion that she was one of the
most unselfish and heroic of women.

" * I feel like telling you my little story,' she
said, after we had discussed the state of the little
boy and also her own ailments. * Perhaps you will

t :;i

ii 'S^ i
' 'I

mil

'■}■ i!|

"l WAS NOT SURPllISED TO FIND MY MTTLE PATIENT CUNSIUEKAW.Y

IMPllOVED." [2>- 242

Ill i'

' *

' ]l

li: II

■I ■ %-

THE PATIENTS IN LITTLE MERRICK STREET. 243

be able to understand better if 1 tell you as simply
as possible. I was brought up in the country, in
a sweet little village in Surrey not very far from
Dorking, where my father was a schoolmaster. He
never had a large salary, of course, and being of a
very generous and open-handed nature, he was never
able to save anything. I was his only child, and
I used to help him with the school-work, although
I never had any proper training as a teachor or
governess. I often wish I had. We were very
happy together until he died quite suddenly, and left
me without any resources. I stayed in the village
as long as I could, earning my living in va ot»o
ways, sometimes helping little children witii meir
lessons at night, and taking in needlework in tlic
daytime. Many people advised me to take a situ-
ation or to go to London, but there was something
which kept me in the place ; perhap"^ you can guesN
what.'

"'A love affair,' I answered, with a little smile.

"'Yes, I was enga;4ed before my father's death
to a young man in the neighlourhood, the liaililf
on an estate quite near the village. My father ha<l
given his consent reluctantly; he did not (are for
my lover, and did not think he was good enougli

'ft

r }M\

■i! -H

ill

244

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

for me ; but though there were many stories abroad
about his habits and character, I never believed
any of them, and would have married him any day
without a question or a doubt. After my father's
death he began to grow cooler, I thought, towards me,
and my heart was very sore, because I thought he
despised me for living, as I was obliged to live,
in a little, tiny room all alone, and getting my own
living, and yet I was the same girl who used to
keep my father's house and play the organ in church
on Sunday. I soon found out, however, that that
was not the true reason of his coolness, but that he
had seen somebody else he thought more attractive,
and more likely to make him a suitable wife than

She was the daughter of one of the village

shopkeepers, a very bright, pretty little thing, and
reported to have some money. I need not enter
into a long history about them, but just tell you
that he finally broke off altogether with me, though
there never was any talk about it. He just simply
leH me alone and married this other girl. Then,

of ;iurse, I

left the village,

because I could not

Ijea" to remain there where everybody knew my
itory, and be a constant witness to the happiness
which I had hoped might have been mine. I took

i i'
il -i

THE PATIENTS IN LITTLE MERRICK STREET. 245

a situation as a mother's help, but whether it was
that I had been too long my own mistress, and
had never had any experience in working for other
people, I do not koow, but I could never rest
contented long in any situation, and finally I came
to London, and tried to get employment as a needle-
woman. I am very good at my needle ; all sorts
of sewing, both plain and fancy, I could do better
than most. It is really a gift 1 inherited from my
mother. I have been able to keep myself pretty
respectably, and though I was often very lonely
and miserable, still I preferred my solitary life in
a great city to living in the old village. I occasion-
ally went back, however, to see some of the old
friends, and then I heard that my old lover was
making a very poor husband to the girl he had
preferred to me ; in fact, that she was heartbroken
with him, and that it was only a question of time
whether she should leave him altogether. They
had two little children, and even for them he did
not seem to care. She, also, was an only child,
and her father died a year or two after her marriage.
He had always been thought to be very well-to-do,
but it was discovered after his death that he had
nothing at all to leave except debts. This so en-

1"' m

'■' m

•ill

■■If.: 1':

il 1

246

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

I l!l

raged his son-in-law, who had quite expected to
get a little fortune with his wife, tliat he became
more nnkind to her than ever, and in the end the
poor thing died of a broken heart. To show you
how entirel}' heartless and worthless he was, I may
tell you that when I went down to the village not
very long after poor Rosy's death, I found to my
sorrow and shame that he had actually run away
from the place, and left his two poor little children
dependent on the parish, and they were even then
in the workhouse.

" I cannot tell vou how I felt at this. Rosv and
1 had been very friendly as girls, and also it had
nearly broken my heart when she supplanted me
with mv lover. I had verv tender thoughts about

ft/ V ^

her, still, I am afraid you will despise me, but I
had a warm side to him too, and I could never
forget all that had been between us in the past. I
thought and thought about those jjoor little children
living in the workhouse, which, as you know, is a
very poor shelter for young things even at the be? c,
and at last I made up my mind that I would take
them home with me to London, and do the best I
could for them, and I did. I have had them for
four years nearly, and they have been tlie very joy

THE PATIENTS IN LITTLE MERRICK STREET. 247

and comfort of my desolate life. But the only thing
that has vexed and troubled me is in case I had
done them harm instead of good by bringing them
here ; for you see I am very poor, and of late years,
I do not know whether it is the competition or not,
but I don't seem to have earned so much as I used
to be able to earn, and we have suffered a good deal
of privation. But I think that the children love me,
and I have made them happy.

" * I do not know why I should tell you all this,
madam, but I feel sure that you will understand it,
and perhaps you will be able to advise me as to
what I should do now. Perhaps it would be better
if I could send the children into the country for a
little while ; perhaps I could find somebody who
would take them and not charge very much, and
you see if I was all alone I could do with less, and
might be able to save something to help them.'

" I could not speak when she ended her pathetic
little story ; it had touched me so inexpressibly.
She related her act of heroism and self-sacrifice as
if it were the merest every-day occurrence, rather
apologetically indeed, as if she felt her conduct
required some justification."

" It is a very pretty story, Elizabeth ," said I

,l|

ii>l

l-^SSSaMBHIlM

248

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

1! I'

I' M

quickly. " I suppose it did not take your fertile
brain long to find some way out of the difficulty I "

'* No, indeed," she replied promptly. " I have
oftentimes during the last few years thanked God
for the abundant means with which He has blessed
me. It is so exquisite a pleasure to be able U
lielp others, and to give relief where relief is so
bitterly needed, as in poor Elizabeth Martin's case."

" How did you help them, then ? What was the
end?"

" Quite a story-book ending," Elizabeth replied,
with a smile. " It happened that very day that
Betty, whose story you wormed out of me the other
night, was lunching with me, and of course I was
so full of Elizabeth Martin and her children, as she
called them, that I could not refrain from telling
her the whole story. Betty is nothing if not kind-
hearted, and she lilted the matter clean out of my
hands by appointing Elizabeth there and then on
my recommendation, withont ever having set eyes
on her, to keep the west lodge at the Court. So
my little philanthropic plan concerning her is now
nipped in the bud, and as soon as the little boy
can be moved, wliich will, I hope, be next week,
all the responsibility concerning them is lifted from

THE PATIENTS IN LITTTE MERRICK STREET. 249

my shoulders. I will say this for Mrs. Geoffrey
Vane, that she is very thorough in everything she
does, and just at the present time her hig heart
is particularly soft and tender towards all those in
distress."

" It would almost do for a Christmas story,
Elizabeth," I said softly, as I closed my note-book.
** I really never met any one who has such splendid
opportunities as you for garnering bits of experience
that never come in other people's way. I do think
that you are one of the luckiest of mortals."

" I would not put it just like that if I were you,"
said Elizabeth softly, and with a very beautiful light
on her face. " I will tell you how I look at it. I
am so humbly grateful for all the blessings with
which God has endowed me that I perpetually ask
Him that He will guide me that I may be a help
and a comfort to others, and you know that you
and I have not yet begun to doubt the truth of
these old words : ' Ask, and it shall be given you :
seek, and ye shall find : knock, and it shall be
opened unto you.' "

K' I

\. ^ .vs.!

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

7.i

1.0

I.I

11.25

IM 12.5

■ 50

Wkf

2.2

2.0

1.4 nil 1.6

<$>

^^A

Photographic

Sciences
Corporation

"""^'"^-^^

23 WIST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. MS80

(716) 872-4503

'^'

11 ■)

XI.

AN ADOPTED CIJTLD.

it/It

XI.

AN ADOPTED CHILD.

" We have come to the last of the second series of
your experiences, Elizabeth," I said to her one
night, "and you must give me something specially
interesting for it."

"Before I retire into private life," answered
Elizabeth with a little smile. "I feel very tired
to-night, absolutely without an idea, and I don't
believe I can recall at this moment a single incident
which could be of the slightest interest to any-
body."

It was the fourth week in July, and the season
had been unusually brilliant. The Keith Hamiltons
were greatly in request, and as both were young
enough to enjoy society, they went into it a good
deal more than I had expected; and, indeed, I
sometimes wished that Elizabeth was not quite so
gay, for the multitude of her engagements and

'53

nsAWOMKJH

.^'

254

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

the exigencies of the social claims upon her took
her away entirely from me, and it was only an
occasional day or evening at an odd time when I
could see her alone. She was beginning to look a
little fagged, and I could not help remarking that
I thought it was time she was back at Flisk. We
had been talking of September, which we hoped
to spend together in that beautiful place, and where
I knew that I should have unlimited opportunities
of talking freely and unreservedly to the friend
who was still dearer to me than any one on
earth except those wilhin the four walls of my
home.

" Do you know what I have been seriously con-
templating lately ? " said Elizabeth presently, and
her fair face took a more thoughtful shade. I also
saw two little wrinkles between her brows, which
came when she was particularly anxious and con-
cerned about anything.

"I have not the slightest idea," I replied,
" though I have no doubt that it is some scheme
which will *do equal honour to your head and
heart.'"

I used that familiar quotation a little banteringly,
but it provoked no smile on Elizabeth's face.

AN ADOPTED CHILD.

'55

" Well, 1 am pare you will be surprised. 1 am
seriously thinking of adopting a child."

I sat up, surprised indeed.

" No, Elizabeth, you haven't seriously thought
of such a thing ! " I exclaimed.

"Yes, indeed I have, and spoken about it to
Keith, too, and he has no objection. The difficulty
is to get the sort of child that one wants."

I looked dt her for a moment in silence, hesi-
tating whether I should say what was in my mind,
that I thought there was no need for such a step
in the meantime. At last I did blurt it out bluntlv,
and without any extenuating adornment.

" But, Elizabeth, you are not old : you may
have children of your own yet."

"I may," she said quite soberly, "but somehow
I don't think I shall ; and anyhow, even if such a
happy contingency arose, the adopted child need
not suffer. Of course you know perfectly well that
we could not possibly make him the heir. I have
really, without saying anything to anybody, bee.i
looking about and making some inquiries where
I could find a suitable child. I want a little girl
about two years old, belonging to gentlepeople
if possible, and she must be given up to me

m :

H'' I

91^

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

<*; \\\

'il'-^Wli

■'' : ■ill

i! \ii-

entirely. I have been on the look ont for the last
month or two, and I have had some curious ex-
periences. There is one especially which I should
like to tell you about, though perhaps you may
not think it quite saitable for your magazine."

"Oh, I am sare it will be all right," I said
eagerly. " I am only too thankful to get any-
thing from you in these days, Elizabeth ; you are
as difficult to catch and as uncertain in your move-
ments as royalty itself; more so, indeed, because
they can always be depended on, and you cannot."

" Well, of course, you know," said Elizabeth,
taking no notice of my last remark, " you do not
need me to tell you that doctors have exceptional
opportunities of seeing behind the seenes, and 1
have always found that they can give very reliable
information on subjects such as these. You see
1 don't want a child from a home or an orphanage ;
these are not difficult to get. I did not come to
you because I was not sure whether you would
approve of it at all, and also because the subject
came up accidentally one night in a conversation
I had with Dr. Walderon. He happened to be
sitting next to me at dinner ; we were talking a
little shop — a most unusual proceeding on my part,

AN ADOPTED CHILD.

257

jart,

as you know, for I always avoid, if possible, any
professional talk in private, principally because
Keith does not like it. But we happened to touch
quite accidentally in the course of our conversation
on the subject of heredity and environment, and
out of that arose the question of childless and rich
people relieving the care of the poor who have many
children. We had (piite an animated discussion
upon the subject, and I found that Dr. Walderon
was rather an enthusiastic advocate of it. He
seemed to think that in this question of adoption
lay some part of the remedy for the large amount
of misery anu even of crime which exists in the
world."

" Does he think, then, that it is the duty of the
well-to-do who are childless to relieve other parents
who have children but no means, of their responsi-
bility ? " I asked.

" Well, I suppose that is what he meant, but he
agreed with me that the great difficulty is to get
the adoption made complete. You see most people
are attached to their children," said Elizabeth, with
a little odd smile ; " mothers especially rebel against
the idea of giving them up for ever, and relinquishing
all claim upon them. They are quite willing to

,!l' !

'': i

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

■■w 'V-

ill ;!'

give them up for a time or partially when advantage
is to accrue to the child through it ; but the idea
of severing, as it were, the bond between them and
never again seeing them, at least never again being
allowed recognition of the tie which binds them, is
intolerable to most mothers, and, indeed, I should
think very little of the woman who looked at it
from any other point of view."

" Yet I don't see how the thing can be satisfactory
at all, Elizabeth," J said, " unless it was carried
ont on these very principles ; because, take your
case for instance, suppose you were to adopt a child
of two years whom you desired to bring up as your
own, and to fill the same position in life which you
are now filling, it would be obviously impossible
that your scheme should be carried out with success
or satisfaction to anybody concerned if the parents
of the child were allowed to see it often or even
occasionally. I should think, myself, that the
absolute success ot the experiment would depend
upon the child being kept in total ignorance that
it had any ties except those which bound it to you."

" That is exactly my view, and I am glad to hear
you speak so emphatically, because, as you are a
mother, you may be supposed to feel properly on

AN ADOPTED CHILD. 259

tlie subject. I, of course, might be accnsM of want
of feeling, and might very easily be told that 1
knew nothing at all of what 1 was talking about.
I happened to mention to Dr. Walderon that I
had occasionally thought of adopting a child. He
gave me a curious look when I said this, which
embodied the very words you spoke to me when we
began this talk. But he was too polite, of course,
to make any remark, and simply said that if I
was in earnest about wishing to adopt a child, he
could introduce me to one whom he thought would
come up to my requirements in every possible way.
We had just arrived at this stage of our converba
tion when the dinner ended, and as there was a
large company present, and a reception followed
immediately, I had no further opportunity of talking
to him that night, but I thought a good deal o^f
what he had said.

"Of course you know that Dr. AValderon is in *
the very first rank of the profession, and that he
can be absolutely trusted in every way."

"Oh yes, I know him well," I replied. '<! think
he is one of our most splendid men."

"Well, I told Keith what he hud said, and
thought a good deal about it myself during the next

26o

MRS. KElTlt HAMILTON, M.B.

¥'M

p tl'

few days. The upshot of it was that 1 drove round
to Dr. Walderon's house one morning. I knew that
he had consulting hours till one o'clock, and asked
to see him. He was very pleased indeed to see
me. I could see it in his face. He is a very large-
minded and generous-hearted man, above all mean
and petty prejudice, and he had not disdained to
speak to me the first night 1 had met him just
as he might be expected to speak to a brother
practitioner whose oj)inion he respected. 1 was
grateful for that, of course, because 1 am afraid 1
am a little touchy even yet on this professional
point."

" 1 thought you had given it all up with the little
house in Rayburn Place, Elizabeth," 1 said, with
a smile.

" No, I have not ; I sometimes wish that it
was possible to do a little practice in Belgrave
Square ; it would be such a delightful change.
However, I must to my story. After we had
talked a little on chance subjects, I said to Dr.
Walderon that I was thinking over our talk the
night we had met, and that I would like to hear
some further particulars, if he could give me any,
about the child he thought might be suitable for

I I

AN ADOPTED CHILD.

t^t

me to adopt. He looked at me quite keenly for a
moment. You know what piercing eyes be has,
looking out from under those shaggy brows of his,
and what an idea of strength of character and
shrewd observation he manages to convey in the
way he knits his brows together."

" Yes, I have seen him many a time ; he looks
rather fierce and formidable until you know him,"
I assented.

" And yet he has the gentlest heart. I know of no
more exquisite combination than to find the gentle
heart of a child in a man of Walderon's strength
of character and great intellectual power. I have
never been more impressed in my life by the limitless
influence a man of such nature is bound to possess ;
his personality is so fascinating and so strong that
it is impossible to resist it."

"Yet he is disliked by many," I suggested.

" Oh, that is because thev do not understand
him ; shams and humbugs, my dear, will shrivel
up under AValderon's eye, and so many of us happen
to be shams and humbugs that I do not wonder
he has a good few enemies and detractors. But 1
am convinced that there is not in London to-day
a more noble and Christlike man than Guy Walderon.

262

Mrs. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

■v

ii '■■■ \

" * I wish that you had been here half an hour
earlier, Mrs. Hamilton,' he said, when I had indi-
cated to him the object of my visit. ' I had a
lady here whom it wonld have been interesting
for you to meet, and I am going to her house
by-and-by, when my consulting hour is over. Is
your carriage at the door ? '

" * Yes,' I said, ' and it will give me the greatest
pleasure to Irive you anywhere.'

" * Thank you, but my own brougham will be
round in about three-quarters of an hour. I have
still three people to see. Will you wait?'

" ' Wait for what ? ' I said inquiringly.

" * Well, I want to take you to see this lady,
and we can talk as we drive. Might I suggest
that you send your .tirriage home, and wait until
I am ready ? '

" ' I shall be very glad,' I replied, and was shown
into a little morning-room, where I remained iiutil
he had disposed of his three waiting patients. When
they had gone he came to me again.

" ' My man has not come round yet,' he said,
* so I can utilise the time by beginning to tell you
where we are going and whom we are to see.
The lady who was here this morning is the daughter

AN AbOPtkb CHILD.

26j

of ah old friend of mine. She is quite young— a
mere gir], indeed, though she is the mother of two
children. It is rather a long story, but I do not
propose to inflict it upon you in its entirety.
Suffice to tell you that she mau-ied against her
father's will,— a very decent fellow I believe he
was, although without means or prospects. Of
course it was an idiotic proceeding on her part to
make such shipwreck of her life ; but, bless me,
what can we exj^ect from a pretty young girl but
folly of that kind?'

"I could not help smiling as he strode to and
fro in the room, wit:, his hands clasped at his
back, looking very fierce, and all the time feeling
so tenderly towards the young creature who had
considered the world well lost for love ; and yec he
is an old bachelor who is supposed to take no
interest whatever in womankind except as paying
patients or interesting cases. Just before one we
drove away in the doctor's brougiiam to make our
call. We talked a good deal as we drove, findino-
much in common, and I was more and more im-
pressed with the fine, strong personality of the
man who had managed in the very short acquaint-
ance I had with him to inspire in me the highest

■Hi J

264

MJRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

m :'. y

il -H«

admiration and respect. I had not noticed particn-
larly where we were goinfif, but at length we stopped
in a quiet, dull, but respectable-looking street, which
Dr. Walderon informed me was situated in Islington.
It was a decayed and decaying neighbourhood,
and yet had not entirely lost its air of respecta-
bility. The houses were roomy and old-fashioned,
let out chiefly in flats and rooms to people who
could not afibrd to pay the rent of a whole house.
The doctor left me in the carriage when it stopped,
while he went to inquire whether his patient was
at home. Having ascertained that she was, he
beckoned to me, and we entered the house anc^
ascended the stairs together. We were shown into
the front portion of a large double sitting-room,
divided by folding-doors. It was very shabbily fur-
nished, but clean, and even wearing a certain air
of refinement, which favourably impressed me. We
had not loiig to wait : presently there entered the
room a young woman who did not look a day more
than two or three and twenty. She had a baby in
her arms, a little pale-faced thing, who looked as
if he did not get sufficient fresh air and nourishing
food. She was very thin and slender, wearing a
shabby black gown, which, however, had a certain

AN ADOPTED CHILD.

265

gracefulness about it which would not have shamed a
handsomer garment. She had a very sweet, earnest
and sad face, which bore traces of the hard destine-
to which she was now condemned. It was easy to
see that she was a lady, and that she had been
accustomed to other surroundings than these.

"'Good morning, Mrs. Vivian,' said the doctor
heartily. ' I hope I see you better to-day. I have
brought a lady to see you who is interested in a
little matter of which you spoke to me the other
day. Let me introduce you to Mrs. Keith Hamilton.'

"I went forward, shook hands with her, and
took the child in my arms. He did not relish the
change, however, and gave vent to a dreadful cry,
which caused the mother to take him hurriedly in
her arms again.

"*I8 this the child?' I asked.

" * No, it is the little girl with whom Mrs. Vivian
thought she could best part,' the doctor put in
hastily : and at these words I saw the girl's soft
eyes fill with sudden tears.

" ' You would like to see her ? She is playing
in her father's room. I will fetch her,' she said
hastily, and withdrew.

"•He is ill,' said the doctor shortly to me as

»'' III

li 111

1: ffil

266

Mrs. KEitti Hamilton, MM.

the door closed. 'Consumption, hopeless for him.
Might recover if he could be sent to the Riviera
and have everything that he required. But as it
is, it is certain death. Sad case, eh ? '

"'Very,* I said. 'Have they no moans?'

" ' None, except a few shillings which he has
from some fund, but I cannot precisely say what
it is.'

" ' Just then the door opened, and Mrs. Vivian
reappeared, bringing with her a little girl, the
sweetest little mite you ever saw, so like her mother
that the resemblance was simply ridiculous.

•' ' This is the child, Mrs. Hamilton,' she said.
' 1 have left baby with his father ; he will be good
there, and we can talk better. She is a dear little
pet. Daisy, would you like to go with this sweet
lady?'

" I saw that she was in a state of extreme nervous
excitement, and that her agitation was almost getting
the better of her. I knew very well that to give
ap this child would be simply to break the young
mother's heart, and y6t she was willing to make the
sacrifice, driven to it indeed by absolute necessity.
I pondered the thing in my mind for one briet
instant, and then took instant resolve.

AN AbOPtkD CHI Lb.

iB-j

the

"'She is indeed a beanty,' I said, holding out
my hands coaxingly to the child, who ran to me
at once, apparently fearing nothing. I saw the
mother wince as I took her in my arms. 'Will
you come with me, little Daisy?' ] said gently,
' and you shall have a pony to ride on, and all sorts
of fine things.'

The child nodded, but in a moment held out
her hands to her mother.
" ' Mamma too,' she said quickly.
" ' Sometimes, by-and-by,' I said. < If you are
willing, Mrs. Vivian, to give up the child to me
for a little time, I shall be glad to have her. We
are going to ^Scotland shortly, and it is possible
that the change there might do her a great deal
of good. We can leave the question of adoption
over, if you like, for a few months, and I will
promise that she shall come back to vou strono-
and well, and as beautiful as she is now.'

" I saw a quick look of gratitude leap into the
poor mother's eyes.

"*Ah, that is too good,' she said presently. '1
could not expect so much from a stranger. Is it
not so. Dr. Walderon ? '

" * There is no reason why you should not accept

'I I

368

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

it that I can see,' was the doctor's reply. ' Mrs.
Hamilton is a woman of iier word, and there is plenty
of room in her Scotch castle for this little mite.
I should advise you, my dear, tc accept her offer
at once, and you will have more time to devote to
your poor husband. 1 will just go and have a look
at him.'

*' While the doctor was absent, we had a little
talk, which made plain a good many things to me,
and it was arranged between us that the child
should be made ready to come to my house the
next dav. I had still a week or two in town, and
I had a little project in my head which I hoped
to bring to a successful issue, although it was
rather risky. As we drove back to Dr. Walderon's
house, I extracted all the information I could from
him about the Vivians, but more especially about
Mrs. Vivian's father, who, I was assured, was the
most crusty and unapi)roachable old curmudgeon
that ever lived. He was living in Surrey, near
Guildford, and never came to London, so that any
one who wished to see him must beard the lion
in his own den.

" Next day Daisy was duly brought to Belgrave
Square, and warmly welcomed, you may be sure.

AN ADOPTED CHILD.

269

She was a dear little mite, and had such pretty
ways with her that she very soon won all our
hearts. She did not seem to realise that she had
parted from her mother for a considerable time.
You know how fond little children are of change,
and how readily they take to those who are kind
to them. The maid whom I had appointed as
nurse to little Daisy for whatever length of time
she might reside in my house, became her devoted
slave from the moment she saw her. Next dav,
Daisy and I took a little trip out of town as far
as Guildford, taking the nurse with us. I had no
difficulty in finding Mr. Winyard's house, which was
about two miles out of the town, a lovely old
place standing amongst splendid trees ; although it
was not particularly well kept, and gave evidence
that it was the abode of a man who bad shut
himself up in a manner from the world.

" I did not send up my card, but simply told the
man-servant to say that a lady from London wished
to see Mr. Winyard upon urgent business. I left
the nurse and Daisy in the room downstairs, and
went up a little nervously, it must be confessed,
to beard the lion in his den. I found him rather
a formidable-looking old person, reminding me very

:! it

27©

M/iS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B.

much of a certain old Anglo-Indian who was one
of my former patients, very cross and ungracious
in manner, but not quite so bad after you had got
beneath the surface. He looked at me verv keenly
when I entered the room, and seemed somewhat
satisfied by my appearance, because his manner
visibly thawed as he wished me good-morning.

" ' I need not beat about the bush, Mr. Winyard,'
I said quickly. * I have come to see you on behalf
of your daughter Millicent, Mrs. Vivian.'

" He frowned instantly, and looked as black and
forbidding as it was possible for a man to look ;
but I had faced his kind too often to be daunted
by the first repulse.

" ' Please don't turn me out before I have Lad
an opportunity to explain,' I said, as pleasantly as
I could. * I have brought something for you to
see, something belonging to Mrs. Vivian. May I
bring it up?'

"He looked at me rather curiously, suspiciously
even, as if he expected I was making fun of him.

" * I wish to have nothing to say about that wicked,
ungrateful girl, madam,' he replied crossly ; * and
as for looking on anything belonging to her, I hav(;
no iijiterest in it.'

"WHAT A FUNNY OLD GENTLEMAN'. SHE CHIRPED." [p. 271.

•ii*

AN ADOPTED CHILD. 271

"*0h, but 1 think you will have an interest in
this,' I said ; « anyhow, I have brought it all the way
from London for you to see, and it may as well
come up. Excuse me a moment.'

"I turned round and left the room so quickly
that he had no time to call me back, and, catching
up little Daisy in my arms, brought her up to the
old man's room. I put her down at the door, and
bade her run in. She was the prettiest little picture
in her white coat and bonnet, her cheeks like twin
roses, and her eyes as blue as the forget-me-not.
I saw what a start her unexpected appearance gave
the old man ; and she, with that fearlessness we so
often see in children, ran forward and took hold
of one of the tassels of his dressing-gown in the
boldest manner.

"'What a funny old gentleman I ' she chirped, in
that quaint, pretty way of hers. ' What is your
name ? '

" He merely grunted and looked sternly at me.

"* What is the meaning of this, madam?'

"That is your granddaughter, Mr. Winyard,' I

replied calmly, 'and I have brought her down to

you to plead for her mother and her father, who

is yei-y ill, almost at death's door. I fear I haye np

272

MRS. KEITH HAMILTONy \t.B.

! :

excnse for my presence here, or for the appeal 1
am making, except the cause oi common humanity.
I happened to hear of your daughter's position and
circumstances accidentally, through your old friend
Dr. Walderon, of Cavendish Square. I Ijelieve he
has spoken to you about Mrs. Vivian before ; but
I thought perhaps if you saw this little darling,
you might feel your heart moved to forgive her
mother.'

" ' She did not think how she wrung my heart
with her headstrong, rebellious conduct, madam,' he
said sternly ; but I saw his eye soften as it rested
on the sweet roimd face of little Daisy. * 111, did
you say Vivian was ? I warned her before she took
the fatal step what she might expect, and that the
fellow would never be able to give her a decent
home or any comfort.'

" * But he has made her happy,' 1 put in
(j[uickly ; ' he is the man of her choice. 1 saw her
yesterday, and I am quite sure that she loves him
as dearly as ever. It is not their fault that health
has been denied to him, and I think it is your
duty, if you will excuse my speaking so plainly,
to bring them home to this house and give them
a chance. Don't you wish to see this sweet little

./.V ADOPTED CHILD

teal 1
anity.
n and
friend
!ve he
; but
Ewrling,
re her

' heart
tra,' he

rested
111, did
he took
lat the

decent

put in
iw her
es him
health
s your
plainly,
e them
it little

maiden running all over the liousc, making music
in every corner of it? And tOic lias a little brother,
and they have culled liim after his i randfiitlier too,
althongh he has been so htirsli.'

"*])id she say anything about me?* In- asked
unexpectedly. 'I suj)pose she told you a friglitfnl
tale of my harshness and injustice ; but 1 say,
madam, tliat if we bring uj) children, as slie
was brought up, lavisliing the best we liave upon
them, with never a thought of self, we h;ive some
right to look for obedience and filial duty in
return.'

"* I quite grant you that, Mr. Winyard,' I replied ;
' but pray don't quite forget that you were once
young and in love youijclf; and do bring them home
for little Daisy's sake.

" "We talked a great deal more all to the same
purpose, but I need not expatiate upon it ; suffice
to say that when 1 left, all I could get out of the
grumpy old man was that he would think about it.
But I noticed that he was extremely careful to note
down the address of his daughter. This filled me
with such hope that I returned to London in great
glee. I was not disappointed in my expectations.
The very next day, somewhat late in the afternoon,

274

MRS. KEITH HAMILTON, M.B,

a hansom drove quickly up to my door, and Mrs.
Vivian's name was bronght to me. When I went
down to her she was radiant, and before I could utter
a word of congratulation or welcome she simply
fell down on her knees in front of me, clasping my
hands in the most passionate manner, and pouring
out br ken words of thanks which I was hard put
to to stop.

"'Papa has come to-day, and we are all going
back home; and he has even said that he will take
Jack to the south of France, and give him a chance
of being restored to health. Oh, how can I thank
you ! I shall never, never be able to thank you :
it is no use trying ; and it seems abominable of me
to come and take Daisy away.'

" * Daisy is to go too, then ? ' I said.

" * Yes,' she answered, though with a slight hesita-
tion. 'Papa particularly asked for Daisy.'

" ' It was Daisy, I think, who won the victory,'
I answered, ' for she looked so ridiculouslv like her
mother that I saw at once she had won her grand-
father's heart.'

" So, now, there is another story for you with a
pretty ending ; and that is the story of the first
child J thought of adopting, £|,nd how very sl^ort

AN ADOPTED CHILD.

was her term of adoption T^ith me -only forty-eight

hours ! But I do not regret it."
•a am sure you coild not, Elizabeth," I said

quickly. « And ho^ did it end then ? "

" Oh, it is not ended yet," said Elizabeth. " Yon
see it is only about ten days ago since the happy
family were installed in the house at Guildford.
I have had several letters from Mrs. Vivian, and
I have promised to go do?^n and see them before
we leave town."

" And are you going to look for another child to
adopt?" I asked, with a little smile.

"Not just yet. I think I shall wait a bit. I do
not know whether it would be very satisfactory in
the end or not."

"I think you are wise to wait a little, Elizabeth,"
I said, though without any special significaice. A
year afterwards, however, she recalled these words
of mine to my remembrance, as we stood together
beside a dainty white cot, looking down upon the
little heir to Flisk and Glenspeed.

ill
1(1

i.i

iiii

u^.

CANADIAN COPYRIGHT EDITION OF
THE POPULAR STORIES OF

ANNIE §. SWAN.

'"If^l

A STORMY VOYAGER •1.25

A VICTORY WON 1.25

A BITTER DEBT. A Tale of the Black Country 1.25

THE GATES OF EDEN. A Story of Endeavor. .... 1.00

ST. VEDA'S ; or. THE PEARL OF ORR'S HAVEN. ... 1.00

SHEILA. 1.00

BRIAR AND ?ALH. A Study of Circumstances and Influences. . 1.00

HAITLAND OF LAURIESTON. 1.00

AYRES OF STUDLEIGH. 1.00

WHO iHALL SERVE?

TH.^ GUINEA STAMP. A Tale of Modern Glasgow. • •

A LOST IDEAL. - . ,

r.LlZABSTH GLEN. M.B.

MEMOIRS OF MARGARET GRAINGER. SCHOOLMISTRESii
MRS. KEITH HAMILTON. M.B.

1.00
1.00
1.00
l.oo
1.00
1.00

75 Gents.

CARLOWRIE; or. AMONG LOTHIAN

FOLK.
ALDERSYDE. A Border Story of

Seventy Years Ago.

60 Cents.

COURTSHI? AND MARRIAGE, AND
THE GBNTLE ART OF HOME
MAKING.

A FOOLISH MARRIAGE A Story of
Edinburgh Student-Life.

50 Cents.

A VEXED INHERITANCE.
DORIS CHEYNE. A Story of a
Noble Life.

HAZELL <c SONS, BREWERS.
WRONGS RIGHTED.
TWICE TRIED.
SHADOWED LIVES.

oO VnntH,

SECRET PANEL.

MISTAKEN, & MARION FORSYTH.

THOMAS DRYBURGH'S DREAM, &
MISS BAXTER'S BEQUEST.

SUNDERED HEARTS.

ROBERT MARTIN'S LESSON.

ACROSS HER PATH.

DOROTHEA KIRKE ; or. FREE TO
SERVE.

A DIVIDED HOUSE : A STUDY FROM

LIPE.
URSULA VIVIAN, THE SISTER

MOTHER.
A BACHELOR IN SEARCH OF A

WIFE, AND ROGER MARCHAU'S

WARD.

35 Cunts.

AIRLIE'S MISSION.
BONNIii J£AN.

V^IL^IAM BRIGGS.

Publisher,

98-33 Richmond St. West ... - | OrOIltOt

• 1.25
1.25

1.25
1.00
1.00
1.00
, 1.00
1.00
1.00
1.00
. 1.00
1.00
t.oo
1.00
1.00

'ORSYTH.

>REA.M, &
rE3T.

Ion.

FREE TO

FDY FROM

SISTER

ICH OF A

IRCHAM'S

WALTER GIBBS, .*
THE YOUNG BOSS ^

And Other Stories

EDWARD WILLIAM THOMSON

Attl/ior iij " Old Man Sa<:aiiii," etc.

Cloth, illustrated,

$1.25

PRESS COMMENTS.

"The liook at hand is well printed and illustrated, and contains six talcs
besides that which gives it its Jiaine and which is the most lengthy. Tliese are
' Tom's Fearful Adventure,' which relates how a ineniher of tlie ' Seven Silent
Shadows Society ' was rescued from a perilous position in a wash basin by resoit-
jn}.' to the secret sip.nal au;reed to be made when in dancer of death ; 'Dux,' a
school tale in which three boys -George Difrbv, Etienne Segiiin and Ferdinand
Fane— contending for a hundred dollar scholarship, found generosity broutfht
more happiness than ambition ; 'Smoljy Days,' backwoods a<lventures in perilous
situations; 'Drifted Away,' a story of an accident oi Lake Ontario in which
Isidore, a reclaimed youn;;- vagabond, gave his life for that of Iiis little friend
and master; 'The Ten Dollar Bill,' which it was claimed had never been paid,
and which, after a deal of suffering to young Harry Clark, was found ia the waist-
coat pocket of James Stewart, to whom he had given it; and 'King Tom,' the
tragic account of how a very fine horse met his death by drowning in a canal.
' Walter Gibbs,' if a ' Young Boss,' was an tinconnnonly ';apablo and upright one,
and the story describes the manner in wliich be carried out a contract entered
into by iiis father, and won golden opinions from his friends. Mr. Thomson
writes a bright colloquial dialogue, quite within the juvenile vocabulary, and
altogether provides a capital fund of entertainment."— ff^o&e.

* •

•

"Some day the Ottawa valley will rise up to honor K. W. Thomson, lie has
given in that part of Canada a habiiation to folk-lore, romance and poeii'v.
Everywhere else the harsh existence of a pioneer people seems clieerless with i\s;
but there at least it has color, beauty and oharm. . . . This picture of domestic
tenderness in a backwoods shanty is exceedingly affecting, lie has the power to
make humble lite as lovable in a lumber camp as Barrie depicts it in a Scottish
olachan."— Caf/io/ic Rfgitttr,

[tiVEU]

•onto,

WALTER GIBBS— Continued.

I J. ii

"One o( the very best of the story-tellers who are now liriiiginjj Canadian
fiction into repute ia Mr. K. W. Thomson. His volume of short stories whioh
was issued lost year, under the title of 'Old Man Savarin,' won him enviable
recognition both at home and abroad. Its crisp and vi<rorous handling of un-
hackneyed material excited the ethusiasm of that admirable raconteur, T. Quiller
Couch, whose commendation gave it instant standing; in the eyes of Knglish
readers. The volume before u» is called a book for boys ; but we cannot help
thinking that it will appeal noc less to the grown-up boys than to the younger
generation. It is full of stirring action, and its prevailing note is one of gener-
osity, shrewdness and manly pluck. One must love the book for its spirit, and
admire it for the fineness of its literary quality."— .S'f. John Daily Record.

* «

" The stories are Canadian and depict certain phases of our national life with
a clearness and an accuracy for which this author has already acquired a valuable
reputation. His characters are those who may be met with any day, but are
endowed by the author's treatment with a halo of romance which delights the
heart of the lover of adventure, of exploit and of the unusual— and what youth is
there who does not enjoy an adventure of any kind? Mr. Thomson is pre-eui
ncntly a story-teller."— Canadta»i Magazim.

* •

"The first story, which gives the book its title, runs through seven chapters,
and is a fine bit of writing. The author knows boys. He has seen life on many
sides, and has not grown sour or cynical. . . . ' Walter Gibbs' is a book that
will interest the boys, and 'boys grown tall' will read it through and renew their
youth in the reading."— 3'Ae Westminster.

* «

"This book is one of the handsomest in printitig, binding and illustritions.
It is in Mr. Thomson's best vein. The scene of these stories is, in every case,
laid in Canada, chiefly on the Ottawa River, which Mr. Thomson knows so well.
. , . The illustrations are of superior artistic merit."— Onward.

"Mr. Thomson's reputation as a writer of stories is so Ion? and firmly estali-
li.oV.ed that a new book from his pen is received with a confldence that is never
misplaced. In all the stories in thi^^ book there is the feature, so attractive to
boys, of effort and adventure, and besides they have the advantage of being all
distinctly Canadian."— 2'Ae Week.

WILLIAH BRIQQS, Publisher,

29-33 Richmond St. W. - - TORONTO, ONT,

UONTEBAL : C. W. COATES. Halifax : S. F. HUESTIS.

Ground tbe €amp-Tire

« It «

« • « l)unter$' Caks of Peril and Jiaventure

CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS

Witti illuatrations? by Ouarlrs Copkland. Bound in buckram, with cover design
in inlc and i;old. Price $1.85.

ein

2 all

ONT.

[IS.

PERSONAL AND PRESS COMMENTS

"... Packed with good stories, all so well written; and all those that
deal with the Canadian forest related witii that air of acquaintance with the con-
ditions which can never he successfully assumed by a novice in wood and river
and hunting craft. C Uo other stories I cannot speak with that knowledge of
the circumstances which enables me to be sure, as in che case of the Canadian
tales, that they are ' right ' ; but Mr. Roberts is too accurate a man and too sound
a writer to make any blunders— of this one may be sure— and the stories are highly
interesting no matter where located."— Edward Williau Thomson, author of
"OldManSavarin."

"Mr. Roberts is an excellent story-teller; his tales possess the cardinal virtue
of incident and stjle, aid their variety appecis to a wide circle of readers. . . ,
Here and there we come upon touchej of exquisite word-painting. . . . They
present, in rememberable guise, phases of Canadian country life— scenes which we
have gazed upon and sounds which we have heard, but which have not before
been clothed in pleasant garb fc* our more leisurely appreciation. The lumber
camp, the lonely marsh, the snow-bound forest with its forces wild and shy— these
are familiar to many of us, but a new point of view gives wider and m • intimate
knowledge."— Prop. A. B. db Mills in Halifax Herald.

"This is a stirring volume with enough adventure in it to suit the hungriest
youthful appetite, and enough excellence in the relation of it to satisfy the
critical demands of the more adult mind. A master-hand, the hand of an artist,
is evident throughout the volume ; story follows story at speed, but just as the
reader begins to ask for a change of venue the change comes, the 'camp' claims
attention and the needed rest is given. ... As a contribution to Canadian
literature this work, and others like it, have a value of their own. They are the
' folklore ' of Canada."— Mrs. 8. A. Curzon iti Otillia Packet.

"The stories are the very best of the kind we have ever had the fortune to
read. They are between thirty and forty in number, so skilfully handled that
to read through the book is like running a succession of races— we proceed with
<iuii.kening pulse and pause for breath with the heart bounding."— Toronto Qlob*.

|i>VK.Hl

Jlrouna m eamp'Tirc—Contiiiucd.

"To the general reader, who does his shootingr and Ashing by the parlor fire,
here is something with the perfume of the opening larch buds, the whirr of the
startled partridge, the weird cry of the loon on some lonely lake, the tieire
murderous rush of the moose at bay, the sharp snarling gasp of the mortally
A ounded bear ; these all greet the reader in such an entrancing fashion that for
tlie time being he i& in the woods, fighting over again thete battles, and viuiiin;,''
the adventures so thrillingly placed before him."— <S(. John Daibj Jiceord.

" In writing camp-flre stories Mr. Roberts has large assistance to his imaiiiiia-
tion. Few men of his age who are not professionals have seen more of hunting'
and fishing than he in the region of country whire his stories are located."— ^'t.
John Sim.

' ' ' Around the Camp-Firo ' is a first-rate book for boys, especially for Canadian
boys. It has a fine out-of-doors atmosphere, the sound of our waters and the
scents of our woods. Stories of bears and wolves and Indian devils and peccariiw
are infinitely more wholesome for growing boys than weak sentimental lovesiorirs
with a dash of piousness to gain them an entrance to Sunday-school libraries."—
The Westminster.

" In addition to the marvellous adventures of the trip, adventures on lake atiil
river and in the woods, the author has incorporated into the story nearly half a
hundred of the various and startling tales told by the different members of the
party around the camp-fire." — Fredericton Gleaner.

"The storieo are strong, fresh, and have the spice of the woods and streams,
the lakes and rivers of our native i>ro\ince. . . . The people of New P.runswic-k,
but as yet only a generation removed from primeval life, can appreciate these
stories, seeing in them a strong similarity to the adventures of their fathers, and
in many cases themselves."— />(tt^e/''s Journal.

" .\ charming collection of hunting stories. , . . After perusing it one
feels (luite the sportsman. The smell of the pine woods, the cry of llie panther,
the ' throb, throb ' of the partridge's wings, the savory kettle, the mysteries of the
lumberman and the raftsman, become familiar as household words."— /Vci/cnVfo/i
Herald.

" All the stories smack of the camp-fire rather than the camp ; they are told
in a bright, direct, vivacious way, and there is an out-of-doors atmosijhere about
them that is very attractive. '—'/Vie Week.

"As a glimpse of life where men ^et 'sunliurned skins, alarming appetites
and renovated digestions' it is splendid."— Ca/wi<ia/t Magazine.

t^W ^i* ft,?*

WILLIAM BRIGQS, Publisher

29-33 Richmond Street West, ^ ^ ^ TORONTO

Montnal : C. W. COATES. Halifax: S. F. HUESTIS.

these
IS, and

it one

)aiither,

. of the

h'fidon

ippclites

In the Days of the

Canada Company

The Story of the Settlement of the Huron Tract, and a
View of the Social Life of the Period.

By Robina and Kathleen Macfarlane Lizars

With an Introduction by iii:v. Principal Grant, D.D., LL. 1).
In one volume, 494 pages, tieely illustrated, price $2.00.

CONTENTS :— Spirit of the Times— The Father of the Company
— Canada as the (Company Found It — Tlie Face of the Land — From
Chainplain to Gooding — The Kings of the Canada ( 'ompany — The
Colborne Cliqu* — Gaithraid — Lnnderston — Meadowlanda — The
The Canada Conljiany vs. The People— The People vs. The Canada
Company — A Social Pot-Pourri — The Heart of Huron — The Bonnie
Easthopes — The Cairn.

OPINIONS OF THE PRESS

" sironfj lij{hts and shadows fill these pictures of tlie early settlf.Ts' day, and
the Misses Iilzars, in handliii<; 'ar^^u masses nf nuiterial, have niaicitaitied the
balance of 'lieir picture s ■ well that it is sonielhintif more thati the most forcible
and strikik lece of wordpaintitijr in Canadian liiurature. The scenes porirayeii
in this book iiii;;hi, be compared with some eintmetotfraphe views lately seen in
the city, for not only are these Howcry-waistcoateil, or red shirted, ancestors, as
the case may be, vivid pieces of brush-work ; the\ sueni almost possessed of the
miracle of movement. We faiun' we htar them sp ak to us, and when Tiger
Duulop strides across the stage in his extraordinary regimentals -roomy grey
homespun, with a large check, the big Sco ch features surmounted by a shock
of red hair, and guarded by the broadest of bonnets, one can almost hear his
friendly roar.''— London Advertiser.

" No more entertaining book has ever been written about early life in British
North America than ' In the Daysof the Canatl a Company,' by Robina and Kathleen
M. Lizars. No attempt, the authors tell us, has been made at historical writing ;
their work is certainly not a history book, hut it most assuredly is history of a far
more rare and precious kind than the chronological record of events which usually
goes by that name. There wi 1 be many histories, and good histories too, given
to the world bef ire another series of such vivid pictures of the very lives of men
and women who made history in a formative periotl of a country is presented."—
Lontreat Daihi Witness.

WILLIAM BRIQGS, - Publisher, - TORONTO, ONT.

.Montreal: C. >V. Co.vrKh. llulifax : S. K. Hir.stis.

Mrs. Kii^gsley's Sf^tories

TITUS:

A COMRADE OF THE CROSS

Sitcoinl Canudlan Edition
Freely Illustrutod

PRICE,

90 CENTS

This wonderful story, the prize-winner in a $1,000 competition,
has had the marvellous sale of a million copies loithin a year. Our
Canadian edition is handsomely bound, and mabbs a choice gift book.

STEPHEN:

A SOLDIER OF THE CROSS

<'unadiaii ( op.vrlf(ht Edition.

( Paper Cover, 50 cents
lamo, 3«» pages i ^. ^ . ^ . .. «-

( Cloth, with portrait, 75 cents

" Stephen " is a continuation of " Titus." The book is dramatic
in style, and presents a graphic picture of the times. The author
possesses decided artistic power, and uses it to give vital emphasis
to an epoch which witnessed the highest achievements of the spirit
of Christ among men.

WILLIAM BRIGGS, Publisher,

90>33 Klehmon<l !^t. West, Toronto.

MoNTRRAi, : C. W. COATKS. Halifax : S. F. Hlksti*

CHEAP CANADIAN EDITION

Of THE STORIES OF

EMMA JANE WORBOISE

Thorn YCROFT Hah

MiLLIOBNT KeNDRICK

St. Bketha's

VlOLKT VaDOHAN

Margaret Tokrinoton
The Fortunes of Cyril Den-
ham

SiNGLBHURST MaNOS

ovkrdale

Grey and Gold

Mr. Montmokency'8 Money

Nobly Born

Chhystabel

Cakonburt Holt

Husbands and Wives

The Hodse of Bondage

Emilia's Inheritance

Father Fabiav

Oliver Westwood

Lady Clarissa

Robert Wreford's Davohteb
The Brcdenblls of Bbudb
The Heirs of Errinoton
Joan Carisbruke
A WoiiAN's Patienob
Thb Story of Pbnblopb

SiSSIE

The Abbbt Mill

Warleioh's TRrsT

Esthbr Wynnb

Fortune's Favoukitb

His Next of Kin

Married Life; or, The Stobt

OF Phillip and Edith.
Our New House ; ob, Kbbpino

UP Appearances.
Heartsease in the Family
Maude Bolingbrokb.
Amy Wilton
I Helen Bury
Sir Julian's Wife.

Grey House at Endlestone

IN UNIFORM BINDING, SI.OO EACH.

*u'^^®"®vPu^'M.^*? ^^°^^^ ^*^« hitherto, owing to the hich Drices of
the English edition, had but a limited sale in Canrda %"unate

n?Mf^w^^ "^ P^,^? °P '**« Canadian market this cheap edTon
of Mrs. Worboise's books in our own strong, durable binSiag wl
look for a wide constituency of admiring reaSeni. ""'«"»«' ^*

WILLIAill KRICiG8, Publisher,

29-33 Richmond St. West, Toronto.
Montreal: C. W. COATES. Halifax: S. F. HUESTIS.

Cai)adlat) Copyrlgljt Kdltioq oV
the Storlea of ... .

G. A. HENTY

**Tlic Koy!s* Own Aiitlior."

Our CaiKuiiun udiLicMi ol tlit'Mu l)ouk.s is wvy luiixl.sDiuuly gotten
ii|», with cover dcHigii in gold iind colored inks, iind eai;h contains
t'igiit full-[»age illustrations. Kvery Canadian l»oy should h.iva a
< hanco to rvad these stirring st<»rios.

PRICE,

SI.OO EACH

Bonnie Prince Charlie : A Tale of J-'ontenoy and Culloden.

In Freedom's Cause : A Story of Wallace and Iiru(;e.

Captain Bayley's Heir : A Tale of the (lold Fields of California.

The Lion of the North: A 'I'ale of the Times of (>ustavu.H
Adolphiis.

The Young Carthaginian : A story of the Times of Hannihal.

The Dragon and the Raven : or, The Days of King Alfred.

Under Drake's Flag •• A Tale of the .Spanish Main.

In the Beign of Terror : The Adventures of a WeHtminstei' Hoy.

With Wolfe in Canada: or. The Wiiming of a Ccmtinent.

By Pike and Dyke : A Tale of the Rise of the Dutdi Republic.

By England's Aid ; or, The Freeing of the Netherlands.

With Clive in India ; or. The Ueginning of an Empire.

With Lee in Virginia ; A story of the American Civil War.

WILLIAM BRIGGS, Publisher,

V9-3S Kieliuiuu«l St. l«'«>»vt, oronlo.

MoMiiKAi,: (). VV. COATES. tl.\l,r»,kx : S. V. HUKSTIS

^S2SKE13^S^ASTERPIECE

CLHGKHLLY, Arab of the City

HIS PROGRESS AND ADVENTURES.

By S. R. €ROf KK'i r.

Paper Cover, eOc. nir.*.u n

' ""«• Cloth, Illustrated, $1.25.

^y THE .s\ ^lE AUTllOn-
i«c mux ot the Moss llajfs. ciotl. ... J*.!;?

A LOVER IN HOMESPUN

AND OTHER STORIES.

By F. CLIFPOKD SMITH.
Paper Cover, . 50c. Cloth Boards, . *i.oo.

t-^HH3s;:;iS£~^|j.».,,^.

; cs.sential a

WILLIAM BRIGGS, Publisher

39..T; Klcl„.,«,„i Si. W, ,t, l«r«„|„.

Mo.NTRKAL : C. W. COATKS

Halikax : S. F, HUESTrS.

CANADIAN POETS.

In addition to the poems of Campbkll, ScoTT, RobkrTS
and LiviNGSloN, noticed in the preceding pages, we have
published the following,' :

This Canada of Ours. [. D. ICuoak, M. C $o 50

Recreations. Rev. K. A. Si ah oru, LI . D o 35

Wayside Echoes. Soi-iiia V. (jilbeui 075

The Ministry of Flowers. Mrs. Norton 065

Jubilee, Patriotic and Other Poems. Robeki Awdk o 35

Lorenzo, and Other Poems. J. E. Pollock, B.A. o 73

The Dream of Columbus. Rev. R. W. Wright, B.I), o 25

Motley : Verses Grave and Gay

—(Illustrated.) J. W. BENOOU<ili I 00

Songs of the Pines. Jamks Ernest Calowkll.. .. i 00

BY OTHER PUBLISHERS.

Amongf the Millet. AKCHiiiAi.n Lami'man $1 00

Lake Lyrics, and Other Poems. W. W. Camimu 1 i i co

In Divers Tones. Ciias. G. D. Roiser rs i 25

The Magic House. Duncan Camiiu.i.i. Scorr i 00

Low Tide on Grand Pre. Bliss Carman i 25

Pine, Rose and Fleur de Lis. Mrs. Harrison ("Scianii> ) i 25

Laura Secord : a Drama, and Other Poems. Mrs. Cir/i n 150
Songs of the Great Dom'nion

— Compiled by W. D. Lkmithai.i. o 70

Songs of the Human. W.m. I*. McKk.nzik i 25

Voices and Undertones. \Vm. P. McKen/ie ... i 25

Songs and Misce.laneous Poems. John Imki: i 50

Rhymes Afloat and Afield. Wm. T. JA^!Ks i 00

Behind the Veil. A Poem. James DeMille.

Cloth, $1.50; Morocc > 3 00

WILLIAM BRIGGS,

Wesley Buildings, TORONTO.
C. W. COATES, Montroal. S. F. HUESTIS, Haliftix.

THIRD EDITION.

MISS DEXIE:

A ROMANCE OF THE PROVINCES.
By STANFORD EVELETH

(MRS. W. J. DICKSON).

Paper, ;;:5 cents ; Cloth, 75 cen;s.

" ' Miss Dcxie' is a really excellent example of that form of domcstio
narrative with which Miss Yonge and Misi Alcott have delighted two
generations. The writer shows herself very skilful in handling and
keeping distinct the numerous characters she introduces. . . . The book
is written in an easy, pleasant style, is thoroughly healthy in tone, and
should attract a largo number of rciadcrs. Parents could not do better
than put it in the bauds of their children ; and we fancy, as we remciu-
bcr was our case with the children in "The Pillars of the House" and iu
"Little Women," that the characters in "Miss Dcxie" will, for a time,
become members of the home circle. "—TAc iVeck.