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AXDER.SON 4 FERRIER 2eei)i5 Entered, according to the Act of the i-..liament o' nada, in the year one thousand eight hundred and ninety-four. by /r;,:,. Brioos, Toronto, at the Department of Agriculture, Ottawa. ^t )i A LOST IDEAL CHAPTER I I the j'ear one 38, Toronto, at " \Vh('ii lutpo is without measure And life a thrill of pleasure." )WAH])S sill, down on a fine S«'j>toinl)or ovoiiin^, it liorst'iiiiin roilc leisurely up the Iteautiful road which fdllows the winding's of the Teviot from Hallkirk to Broadrule. He might have been taken for a gentleman-farmer or a country s([uire, [his brown felt hat, tweed coat, and mud-bespattered gaiters [having nothing professional alxnit them. Nevertheless, Brian Laidlaw was a graduate of two universities, and at eight-and- Jtwenty was proud to write M.D. ]'Alin. after his name. I His appearance may best be described in the homely but expressive phrase of his native dale as buifdhj. He was well |built, tall, and manly ; his well-featured, honest face was tanned by exposure to all weathers, and his tine blue eyes, though keen ind piercing, had withal a kindly gleam which did not belie the tender .side of the man's nature. The six -o'clock bells, /Signal for the cessation of labour at the factories in Hallkirk, fame pealing, not unmusically, up the valley, and tin; young octor rather absently took out his watch. He had been out of his bed since four o'clock that morning, called to attend a ihepherd's wife among the hills up Rule Water, and after A LOST J/)/..iL goiii;^ liis l(ni^ iHimd liinl jmid her n second visit, and was now ^'oin^J homo, for the lirst time. Yet lie did not iipjM'ar to \w in any hurry ; lie rode leisurely, and the reins huii;^ loosely on his liorse'.s neck —a lieaiitifiil animal, strontj and tlei-t, with just s\illi('ient hreediiii; to ;^'ive the lii^di-hnMl tnudi the yotin*,' doetoi lovpil. lictween the t\v<) tliei'f \v;is n |»crft'(t uiidri'stundinii ; hy the animals ua well as human heinus with whom he eame in contaet, P.rian I.aidliw was deservedly lulnved. Kindinj^' his master in a thoughtful mooil, IJoh j,'radiiidly relaxed his pacM', anil proceeded in a very leisurely manner up the somewhat hilly road. To one not pressed for time there was certainly much to admire in that jileasant scene, and the hour, just after sundown, was still iind lovely enou«,di to lay a hush upon the spirit. The road fidlowed the course <»f the river, as limpid and pellucid heie as if factories and their necessary ahomina tions had no e.\ist(?nce ; in the little [mioIs the trout leaped merrily, the music of the ripples sweetly hreakin^' the extreme stillness of the air. The \\\\i}\ hut t^'railually slupin^' river hank> were richly clothed with alder, hirch, and willow, relieved it intervals by the heautiful rowan-tree, on which the dusters hung rich and red. Autumn hid laid her mellowing' lint^'cr on the land. Many lieMs on the low i^round were idieady reaped ; those on the higher slopes rii)e for the sickle. The ahundant woods were many hued, and wheic the sunset ghiw fell .ithwait tlu^ hills showed the purple glory of the heather still nndiiiimed. Although lirian Laidlaw was hy no means unaj)preciative of the beauty thus lavislily spread before him, his mind was Just then occupied with other tlnaights. l^resently Ik rse and riiler emerged from the shadow of a little belt of wood skirting the road on either side, and then a smile, slight but very tender, took away the graver lines from his mouth. Before him, crest- ing the sloping bank of the river, a gn\y spire, not ungraceful, rose up from the trees, standing out sharji and well-defined against the amber clearness of the sky. (^Miite close ti> it. only se|)arated from the churchyard by a low mossy wall and a row of sombre yews, stood an old-fashioned, / /.( .S7 / / / / 7 anil was now jtpoiir to hv in loost'ly <'i» lii^ jM't, with just !• y(nmank> low, relieved ;il ill the olusttMN ic land. Many those on the lit woods were iwart the hill> hmI. AlthoU;4li (.f the beauty was- just then ( rae and ri«lei )od skirtinf,' tin- (lit very tender, efore him, crest - not unj^raceful, id well-ilefined 11 1 hm'chyard by a n (.)ld-fashioned, rnmhlint; eonntiv house, tin* paii>ii nian.^i' ol ilumdrulf. ririan t white )i<>ath*r in his biittentinu'ntalisin^S this stalwart, elear-lieaded eniintry doctor; nevertheless tin* lindin;,' of tin- white heatlnr, cndilcm of his ci'initry's luek, had c(»nveyed to him a messa;^'!', the blos.s«»min^ of the loveliest hope of his life. It hail told him that day that d that h llie tune hail now come, and thai he mi;;lil now a^K, in whai words .seemed most titling' to him, for the woman in- wished l<> make his wife, thr woman he had loved all his lite sinee tin- days when tliey had played to^'i'ther boy and ^drl on ihr smooth lawns of the mansr -arden. The va;4:ui' lonLjiiii^'s i>f his soni took definite shapi' as he came within si<,'ht of the old white house, and, forgetful of the dinnrr ^Mowinj,' rold for him at honir, he turned his horse's head down the man^^e lane and aiij^hted at the ulil stone i^ates. Hob, beini,' well accustomed to his quarters, subniittetl to the loos(» throwing; of the reins over the ronvenient bridle post, and conliMitedly bc^'an to mumh the flesh leaves of the jiink hawthorn while his master opened thr wicket-j,'ate and strodi' up the little avenue to the house. The manse <.,Mrd en was a shady and woody place, the hij;li shrubberies :;| shuttinj,' out the smooth lawn before the door ; had I'.rian lau^dit I an earlier glimpse of the firiiiw, beinj; enacted there, it is probable ■ f. lie would somewhat hastily have beaten a retreat. When he came within full view, a dark Hush overspread his face, and his brow liastily clouded. The scene, pretty and suggestive in its way, evidently did not comnu-nd itself to him. On a low garden-chair, just by the old sundial, sat a young lady in a close-fitting grey gown, her white hat on the grass beside her, and a look of vivid and lovely interest on her fac(\ I use the word lovely because it is most expressive of lier l(K)k at the moment. Usually her face was too passive and uni.'Xi)ressive to be called lovely ; it was only when, as now, something stirred her to quick emotion that it gained the . necessary touch of life. It was, however, a beautiful face, - regular in feature, faultless in tint, and striking too in its way, s A LOST inr.Ai. Mi^^t'HtivL' to lIiu close ohscrvor of an unusual anmuiit of hiiMm jiossibility. It was a strong and swiMft face ; strength, iifrhajw, |iri'tloniinate(l. Many adniiicil and respected Helen Lockliart ; those who aj)|)roached her near enough to love her, lavished upon her a most passionate devotion. She was so unafl'ected, so candid, so ahsulutely true. Some less candid and true felt unct-mfortable in her presence, and l)lanied her prudishness ; hut those were the few. Tiirough the length and hreadth of her father's parish Helen Lockliart was adored, regardecl indeed as a *' perfect woman, nobly itlanned." Vet she had her faults, which will unfold themselves unconsciously as the story of her life goes on. When liriau Laidlaw, her faithful lover of a life- time, saw who had brought that sweet, loving light into her face, a lierce agony smote him b* the heart. At her feet, in the attitude and wearing the exj)ression of a hn'er, kncrlt a man of sucli striking appearance, that if a woman can bo won solely by external attributes, then I'.rian's chance was small. He was, if less strong and manly, yet of infinitely more grace, while liis head was of that noble; type with which we are wont to associate intellect of the highest order; and the face was the face of a poet, set in its frame of wavy dark hair, the eyes liipiiil and dreamy, the nostrils tbdicab'iy cut, the mouth nervously swet.'t. A womanish face, perhaps, yet not without its latent strength, its i)romise of future development. His attitude, being that of a lover, had something ])assionate and pleading in it which appeared to awaken a tender responsive chord in the .soul of the woman to whom it was addressed. Upon this scene, then, came lirian, the rough and ready, like a sudden chill rising from a cloud in a sunny sky. He purposely trod tilt? gravel fiercely under foot; then Helen saw him, and rose somewhat Inuriedly, her composure tlistinctly disturbed. Her com})anion [ticked himself up in a most leisurely fashion, and ele- vated his eyebrows as he gave the intruder a nod of recognition. "Oh, Brian, good-evening," Helen said, rather tremblingly. She was sensitive to a degree, and noted the ominous cloud on Brian's brow. " Surely you came quietly. Are you riding?" / /.O.Vr IDEAL lint of liiildt'ii I'll Ltjcklmrt ; her, lavished 80 uniill't'i'teil, luid true felt pnulishneas ; id lircudth <)1 "iirdctl iiidt'cd tiad l»or fa\dts, f story of luM" Idvit of ii life- li;,'ht into her i>X])ro88ion of a liat if a woman r.rian's chance ct of infinitely /pe with which 'st order ; and e of wavy dark icately cut, the rhajis, yet not I' development. ; ])assionate and ider responsive addressed, iid ready, like a 1I(^ purposely w him, and rose listurbed. Her ash) on, and ele- of reco|^nition. er tremblingly, ominous cloud tly. Are you II Yes. I walketl up tlie avenue an usual," r»'i)lii'd Ihian .'urtly, How are vou, Wood-nite] I tli«ln't liear voii witp C.X| lec ted. I wasn't. I nt'ver am expertetl anvwlu-re, my dear hoy," replied W'oodgate carelessly, as they shook hands. " I'm a law unto myst'll". And how is the world usini,' you?" " I hav«' no complaint to make," said llrian, and for the life of liim could say no more. Though these two had known each other sinc«' hoyhooti, hail sat on the same hcnch, jtlayMl the same ^'ames, and shai'ed every hnyish jmrsuit, they wj-n* more antagonistic to each other than the merest strangers. "The la.st 1 heard of yciu, you were going to Africa," said lirian, striving for Helen's sake to throw oil' the restraint which seemed to hind his tongue. " Have you come to make some Btay in the oKl place, which, I suppose, seems slow enough to you now '/ " "That dejiends, 1 suppose, on — on Helen, shall 1 say?" said "NVoodgate pointedly, and Helen Hushed all ovi-i. "Then, if it depen«ls on Helen, your stay will he imietinitely pr(»longed," saitl Urian, with a kind of snap. " She is lutthing if not hospitable, as we both know." For the first time Laidlaw became conscious that he was mnghly attired, that his gaiters were mud-bespattered, and the contrast between him and the artistically-attin d Londoner, whose velvet coat and delicate necktie, arranged with a careless though studious grace, proclaimed that he was not above personal vanity, of which Laidlaw was singularly free. Vet he always looked the true and honest gentleman he was. "1 must ask you to excuse my attire, Helen," he said, with a short laugh. " Ihit 1 was called up Rule Water before day- break this morning, and have not been home since. Is your father in the house ? " "Yes, Brian; do come in ai I see him," said Helen, with alacrity, glad of anything to relieve the tension of the moment. " No, thanks ; I must go on. My father will be out of all patience for his dinner," said Brian. "Perhaps you would , ■=-^*'l • I 1 1 10 A LOST IDEAL kindly tell the minister that Mrs. Watson at ('avoring is seriously ill, an«l that I am ilouhtful of her recovery. They'd like to see him, 1 know. Good-evening, AVoodgate. I suppose you'll be giving us a look in at Broadrule before you go. Seen Guy sin«'o you came ? '' *' Xo ; I only arrived this afternoon," replied Woodcut c "Give the doctor my kind regards; and tell him, in sjiite of his gloomy forebodings, I'm not a complete wastrtd yet." Helen gave a nervous little laugh. Jh'ian smiled a trifle ;M'indy, raiseit(! of rel y«'t." smiled a trifle lout until they ft sound on the < shoulders an :en purse cannot [on quickly, and liim. on, though you IS always a boor, or fellow has had d ministering the rimitive dale." npletely carried oodgate as to be her old and true )U know it. He -, he has already ; and he does so sparing himself lover be grateful ight mistake, and KMU I assure yuu to my contention that ho is a diiunoud in the rough. I»iit don't lot our first quarrol In- over this ostinialdo inutn;il friond. Vou should ho iiiorr h'liifut to iiio to-uight, llolou, sooing F have holore me the vory trying onloal of having to ask papa." His t(»iio of gentle l)antor uuido Helen's colour (luiokly rise, iind she avoitt'd her conscious eyes, " 1 wonder if it will V»e a surprise to him, Richard." " A surprise, possibly ; but a happy one, I trust," said Wood- uato ('(.inpiaoontly ; and Helen could not repress a smile. He \v;is iiinriUnatcly vain, and though indulgent to all his little weaknesses, she was not unobservant of them, llt^ did not, indeed, "p-rodit her with tin; actual keenness of vision and nicety of ''I porooption she possessed. She was an interesting study to the man whoso business in life it was to dissect human cliaracter ^ and analyse human motive. The pure, wholesome life she had lived for iive-and-twonty years in her native dale luul infused its freshness into her being, and while close contact with many :^ simple and e:!rnost souls had kejtt her alfections and sym]>athies wide and warm, yet the comparative narrowness of her environ- ment had nnt failo(l to give to her character a l^uritan touch in i whioh Woodgate delighted. It was because she was in all t respoc.'ts so different from the women of his world that he had J chosen her to be his companion, asked her to bo his wife. It I Avas a favourite pastime of his idle hours picturing his stately I meadow lily transplanted to the more arid soil of London, and |antioipating the gathering wonder with which the change would A encompass her soul. He loved her in his way ; how much or how little his way involved, this history may afterwards reveal. ^Meanwhile, if he was a little different from the ideal lover of whom Helen in her girlhood had dreamed, that did not grieve her, and vshe accounted herself honoured among women. For Woodgate, the sometime charge and pupil of the minister of Broadrule, had already made a name for himself in the world of (letters, a volume of })oems winning for him the title of the New I Poet, and a novel full of artistic ];eauty and literary grace made I the world impa-ient for its successor. His reputation was in I the freshness of its early promise, and his old-time friends — w I T2 / r.OST IDEAL \ ' J I. lull among them — were reverent in their worship of his genius. She was very iiumble in those early days, tlie gl'iry of lier liero-worsliip yet iindimmcd. That one s< gifted and so souglit after should liave remembered lie)-, and oflered her his love, filled her soul with a wonder of humility and gratitude. He had certainly stirred lier heart and won her ])romise, though she had never analysed her feelings towards liim. She was a cultivated woman, Imt in her humility }»laced herself fai' beneath him, not jtresuming to be his (#jual— tht; height of her aml)ition to fill some niche in his life, and so aid him to the full perfection of his work. She had a reverence for intellect, and vegarded his )uessage as divine. In her simplicity she dw^lt high upon the heights, looking u|»on the ideal, so dillicult always to attain, with vision (piitc; undimmed. Hei simple, undisguised v.'urship, her utter belief in him, was sweet to Woodgate, vanity being his besetting sin. The subtle incense of the world's i)raise had saturated his being, and there were some who, while recognising his genius, shook their wise heads, knowing that self-complacency kills the noVdest aim. A few sterner spirits were not loth to declare that the new poet's best work was done; but no such presentiment troubled the soul of AVoodgate. His belief in himself was unassailal)le ; he felt assured that his future held only achievement more brilliant than the past. He did not believe what many wise men have proved, that the growth of a fine soul can be stopped, its developnuMit choked by the weeds of selfishness, of indolence, of vain-glorious ease. Tho.'^.e lieavenly voices which resound clear and sweet and strong in a [)ure atmosphere, have no divine cadence for the grosser ear. The groveller cannot live upon the heights, the rarity of the atm 'Sphere is irksonu^ to him. The trouble is that it should be so much easier to grovel than tK) soar. fii orship of liis ly tlays, the one SI gifted lU'l oficred her ami gratitude, •ouiise, though 1. She was a •d herself far ! height of her liiui to the full r intellect, and city she dw<;lt dillicult always )le, undisguised ..(hlgate, vanity ic world's })raise lie who, while ;, knowing that sterner spirits hest work was il of AVoodgate. ilt assured that than the past, ve proved, that lopnient choked in-glorious ease. weet and sti-ong for the gvosser he rarity of the that it should oe CHAPTER TI ** R(»t\v('pn two ways, two loves, two swift desires, Tho human lieart is torn." us su|»|M»s(' for a uionient, Helen, tiiat your •p I'atlier .siiuuM not ))rovt' iiincnMhle. What would ho tlie result?" inipur.'d Woodgatf, hy way of 'xpcriment. He was fond of causing Helen to express an opinion unexpectedly. He never tired of studying iiei' ex- pressive face, of watching it> play of light and ?.jia<;i . It clouded a little at the (juestion, and her large, ( lear grey eyes became trouliled. " I don't thiniv he will have any uhjeetion, Richard. Why should he 1 You are the sou of the friend he loved hest in the world, and you lived with us for seven years. Why, you aro like one of us — or were once." She ended with a slight shy hesitation. '* Of course it is a little diflerent now, since you have become a famous man." *• But supposing that, out of some contradictory spirit, he should throw an obstacle in the way, my darling," persisted AVoodgate ; " what then ? " "I owe a very sacred duty to i»apa," said Helen quietly. "Which means, I take it, that I should be bowled over, eh, Helen 1 "Well, that seems rather cool." Helen looked distressed, but said nothing. Woodgatc; did not, however, for a moment believe that Helen would hesitate l^^etween her father and himself. He was too certain of his 13 I jr\^ J^ »4 A LOST IDEAL II, iuHiKiiice over lier. He knew in whut school she hud been rrarcd, and tliat she believed the duty of the child to the parent ahjiost absolute. lie smiled as he pictured her com- jih'te disillusionment in the world to which her marriage would introduce her; tlie many gentle shocks which would evolve a new personality out of Helen Lockhart. He was a very clever man, and a keen student of human nature, but it did not strike him that nothing wouM eradicate her early train ing, and that her personality was already built upon too sure a foundation to be easily changed. He imagined her pliable ; she was in reality, especially in matters of conscience, firm to the verge (jf oltstinacy. "Papa was very pleased when (lavin Douglas asked for Annie," said Helen suddenly. " \ remember yet how his voice shook when he said he could not, even if he would, have chosen a better husband for her ; and, indeed, they aro very happy." "Are tliey?" inquired Woodgate, with \\\\ indifl'erence almost rude, which (;:uised Helen to look at him in quick inquiry. "Do you not think so?" Woodgate shruggetl his shoulders. "They may be. It de]>ends entirely on what constitutes happiness; but you will admit that they stand on a slightly dilferent platform from you and me." "Gavin is not clever, of course, except in his own domain, l)ut h(; is good," saitl Helen slowly ; and her lips parted in a slight smile as she thought of her young sister's happy home, where lavish hospitality was dispensed, and where laughter and happy nonsense were never forbidden guests. " You and your sister are opposite as the poles, Helen," saitl Woodg.ate nieaninglv. " A soul which has awakened to tlu' higher [>ossibilities of life can never again be satisfied witli grosser surroundings. Let ^Ir. and Mrs. Gavin Douglas lie ha|)py in their own way, we shall not grudge them such thinu- as they have. 1 cannot promise you, ])erliaps, cjuite so easy m luxurious a life, but we sliull have our compensations." "Oh, 1 know, 1 know," cried Helen inqiulsively ; "i under- Ik 1 A LOST IDEAL '5 . she luul been le child to the tured her com- 11 her marriage :s which would art. He was a in nature, but it ; her early train- t upon, too sure ined her pliable ; ut^cience, tirm td lUglas asked for er yet how his en if he would, indeed, they an* iditterence almost lick inquiry. what constitutes ind on a slightly his own domain, r lii)S parted in a Ler's happy hom(>, here laughter and )oles, Helen,'" sai»l awakened to the be satisfied witli ;avin Douglas !•<■ them such thin,u> >f*, (juite so easy ni nsalions." [sively ; " i under- stand you quite, lint how dreadful if, after a time, you should be disappointed in me ! " Her voire .sank to a nervous whisjier, for she was giving utterance, for tlie first time, to a fear which haunted her perpetually. " Now, my darling, after all I have said to prove to you that your personality will give; the fini.shing touch to my life, your influences the crown to my trndeavour, that is rather hr.rd," said Woodgate, unrasily enough, for her humility touched him. "You may trust me to make no error in judgment in such a ^crisis of my life, though it is just here, 1 know, that so many men take a false steji, which they never can retrieve." "But I am so unworthy. 1 know so Httle," repeated Helen, with the sweet humbleness of a woman wlio loved. " Surely among all the great ladies you know, there are many worthier to be your wife than I." "My dear Helen, I do know a great many charming, gifted, and fascinating women ; but it is not to such a man turns when he wants the rest of home. I knew very well what I was doing, cheri.shing your image in my heart. You I have proved ; and I know tliat you will make an ideal mistress of an ideal home." % It was the most delicate and subtle flattery, by which it was impossible Helen could remain unmoved. She listened in happy silence while he drew the glowing picture of the future, of the loneliness which the sunshine of her presence was to dispel for ever. And he believed honestly what he said ; he had a very high and true regard for the sweet woman by his tide, though she had not as yet awakened the passion of his soul. He believed also that she would be a helpmeet to him in .his literary course, a guiding star to keep him in the way of rectitude ; and as regarded his power to make her hap})y, he had no misgiving at all. He was too innately a selti-li man to allow such a thought to trouble him. j "I suppose," he said slowly, "since th'i unpleasant task has |to be performed, it ^nay as well be done at once. You are quite .leure your father has no suspicion of my errand % " i6 A LOST IDEAL I ! < I i \ " I am quite sure. I am afraid papa thinks I am not likely to leave him in a hurry ; and, indeed, he will be very lonely without me." " 'For this cause,'" quoted Woodgate lightly. "If he gives his consent, you will not refuse to come to me soon, Helen. I have set my heart on spending the dark months of the year abroad." Helen started. It was all so new to her, and to hear him speak of an early marriage gave her something of a shock. Events in the quiet dale followed each other in so leisurely a fashion that there was ample time always to grow familiar with a new idea. "Why should we wait?" urged Woodgate. "We are old enough to make the experiment ; and if we love each other, th(> waiting is bound to be tedious. Oh, I know what you would say, Helen. I know the awful conventionalities of thi.'i delect- able land. l)Ut as your new life will introduce you to an entirely niiw order of things, why not begin a})propriately ' I intend to ask Mr. Lockhart to give you to me not later than Christmas." " Christmas, Richard ? Little more than three montli> hence ! Why, (nivin and Annie were engaged two years." Woodgate laughed outright, ft was so like one side of Helen — that strict regard for the conventional sequence of events. " Well, well, we shall see. But I shall not wait two years, nor one, I tell you that, Helen," he said firndy. " And now 1 go to beard the lion in his den." All unconscious of the momentous question about to be pro- pounded to him, the minister of Broadrule was enjoying thr quiet of the twilight hour in his study, smoking the pipe of peace, r.nd leisurely developing his Sunday morning's discourse, The Rev. Edward Lockhart was a student and a scholar, thougli neither a bookworm nor a recluse. While htving with an appreciative love the companionship of his liooks, he did not neglei't the not less valuable and instructive stut' his flock, hi< practical interest in the details of common life, made hiir. A LOST /DEAL »7 J I am not likely 1 be very lonely J. "If he gives I soon, Helen. I nths of the year and to hear him •xxn^ of a shock. in so leisurely a row familiar with L\ "We are old ve each other, tbo r what you would ties of this delect- •oduce you to an ;in appropriately '. me not later than 1 trusted and valued in the home, as much as the tondornesa, depth, and wisdom of his spiritual teaching' niiulc him rover(Ml in the pulpit. Such a combination is rare, and indicates gifts of the highest kind. His brethren bemoaned tlie fact that ho should be content to bury himself in a remote country parish, nunisteriiig to the needs of a handful of simple folks, ])ut tliey Ifailed to move him from the place he h)ved. It was liallowed to him by many memories, as the scene of his too brief marrietl llife, the birthplace of his children ; then he loved, and was 4oved by his peoidc, and they understood him. A wider sphere otfercd him notliing to compensate for the loss of these things, therefore he remained. ' Woodgate had a genuine respect for his old tutor, who, tliough tender and kind, always had been also somewhat strict fai his upbringing of his old friend's orphan boy. He ])elonged in the older school, who exact implicit obedience, and who mingle a rare gentleness with an authoritj wliich is absolute. His daughters, though now women grown, one the mistress of her own house, still regarded him with awe ond feared his dis- approval. Knowing the character of the man with whom ho Wl to deal, Woodgate wu-^ conscious of a slight embarrassment f|B he sought admission at the study door. f " Come in. Oh, it is you, Richard. Xo, you don't disturb mc. This is an idle half-hour with me usually. Have you and Helen tired of each other? " His clean-shaven, clear-cut, and strikingly handsome face brightened as Woodgate closed the door, and he })romiscd him- aelf an agreeable break in the course of his study, knowing what a brilliant talker the young man could be when tiio spirit moved him. The minister had an absorbing interest in the world of letters, and an intelligent knowledge of what was a scholar, thougli transpiring therein, and he was undeniably proud of his dis- loving with aii tinguished pupil. )ooks, he did no' "Shall we have a light? Perhaps we had better. I like to tudy of his kind gee the face of a speaker, and I hope you are going to entertain re of his flock, hi< me, Richard, now you and Helen have fallen out. And how life, made him ^o you think Helen is looking ? * 2 three months two years." one side of Helen nee of events. wait two years, ly. " And now 1 n about to be pro was enjoying thf )king the pipe of orninu's discourse m il HI 1 8 A LOST IDEAL " Charming, as she always does," replied Woodgate sincerely. Mr. Lockhart, busy with the reading-lamp on the table, was not particularly struck by the remark. '• And what isont you flying northwards just now, Richard ? I saw from several papers that you are contemplating a trip to Africa. Have you come to say good-bye 1 " "No; the newspapers always know more of a fellow's inten- tions than he does himself," said Woodgate V)luntly. *' I know a party that starts for Mashonaland next month, and they asked me to join them, but I declined. That sort of thing has no attractions for me ; I have no sporting proclivities, and I don't find native idiosyncrasies interesting. But I've come on a serious enough errand this time, sir, as you will doubtless think." " Ay, and what is that ? " The minister turned up the lamp, and its soft white light fell full on Woodgate's face. He looked his best at the moment. Mr. Lockhart had the curious effect of forcing him to be natural, and making him lay aside the mannerisms which had become as second nature to him. " Yes ? Out with it, lad ; confession is good for the soul," said the minister, as he stretched his hand towards the mantelpiece to lift his pipe ; but the motion was arrested by Woodgate'? next words — " I have come to ask you for Helen." *' For Helen ? " repeated the minister, looking down on hiii in evident bewilderment. " What for ? " "To be my wife! Is it possible such a thing has neve suggested itself to your mind ? " Mr. Lockhart did not speak, but turned away to the windov where the blind was still undrawn, and upon which the la^ grey shaft of light lay tenderly, and he there stood in absolut silence for quite five minutes. He passed through a shar experience in these five minutes, gained a victory over tli selfishness of a devoted father's heart. When he turned agai to Woodgate, who, though intensely nervous, did not dare t break the silence, his voice had lost its happy cadence, his fa' its unruffled peace. i I 8i fii fai an of mt He rea a4a mi ■'■J thrc bes we max it if aU you ■::'T itw iiil A LOST IDEAL J9 odgate sincerely. 1 the table, was it now, Richard 1 npLiting a trip to ' a fellow's inten- untly. "I know h, and they asked t of thing has no vities, and I don't i come on a serious )tless think." oft white light fell st at the moment. [)rcing him to he nerisms which had d for the soul," saia ■ds the mantelpiece ted by Woodgatc'^ king down on hin a thing has neve; way to the window pon which the la> re stood in absolut d through a shar a victory over tli ten he turned agar ms, did not dare t >py cadence, his fn' I suppose,'* ho said slowly, " you have already spoken to 'Icn? ;| " I liiivo, and she has .^^'ivcn me her promise — conditionally, Ipi course, upon your approval." ■I "if that is so, then the matter is practically settled. Jlolou is not a frivolous ix'rsoii who acts impulsively. Let us <|it down and talk it over." ■' Considerably astonished as well as relieved, Woodgate sat tack in his chair, while the minister took his own scat, and even lifted his jiipe and began to 1111 it. Woodgate s})oke lirst. " It is right that I should satisfy you entirely regarding my financial position," he began. " You are aware what means my fath(!r left, and my income from my profession is considerable, and likely "— The minister interrupted him by a slightly impatient wave of the hand. ** I don't wish to know these details, Richard ; they don't much concern me. A moderate degree of poverty even, for Helen, I should not greatly dread. She has been sim}>ly reared, and she possesses, in a marked degree, the faculty of adaptation ; but " — He hesitated, and a slightly resentful expression appeared in Woodgate's face. " I must ask an ex})lanation of that 'but,' Mr. Lockhart. Is it possible that you can have any jDersonal objection to ntel" Mr. Lockhart faintly smiled and pushed his slender fingers through his abundant grey hair. _!^*You are a great man, Richard, in the estimation of many besides yourself," he said, with a kind of gentle dryness, "and we in the Dale here have our own pride in you ; but when a man is asked, as I now am, to part with his dearest treasure, it is natural that he should seek to strip the one who asks of all superfluous trajipings and reach the heart of the man. Can you make Helen happy, Richard, do you think ? " The minister had a peculiarly keen and penetrating eye, and it was fullv fixed on his listener's face as he spoke. \ I it UtL. I J I i I :l 1. i I i[ L||iii 20 ^ /.OS 7' J DEAL f< IT OJ 01 Woo(1f,'atn (lid hifi bost not to flinch, hut l»n folt far from comfortable, and (h'cidcdly a^'^'ricvod. "1 can hnt do my host, and IIcUmi appears to trust me," li. said, ratlier curtly. Tho minister read the workiu",' of his mi' ike an open hook, and .saw that this misj^'ivin*,' was wh. y nnpalataMr Uut that mattered but little to the father, who had his be.-.t ^^ loved child's interest solely at heart. q, " I cannot plead that you do not know each otlier sufficiently," y^ he said slowly. " Vou have had exceptional opportunities ni studying each other. Ihit I will say this, and I sujjposc; I an speaking to a man of the world, who will at once understand me. lI(.'l(Mi has l)een (juietly brought u}), and lier liorizon i naturally a trifle prescribed. Don't you think the risk ( trans[»]anting her to a soil so foreign, and in many respects ,- uncongenial, a very great oneV "I don't," rei»lied Wuodgate j)r(>mptly. "It will bo a fu! life, rich in many things she does not now dream of." " I do not for a moment doubt that, Kichard. The questin is, would she consider them enrichers of life? I much doiil it. You cannot misunderstand me. Your life, with its u trammelled freedom, is in almost every respect antagonistic what she has hitherto known ; and I confess I cannot regai such a future for her without the gravest anxiety." " You spoke a minute ago of Helen's adai)tability," put i Woodgate eagerly. " Is this not a fine field for its exercJM What is there in her position as my wife to occasion v anxiety % She will at once take her own stand, and becdi: the centre of an admiring and appreciative circle, in wlii her own best gifts will have fullest scoj)e for development." " I hope so, I hope so indeed," said the minister, but t: shadow on his brow remained. " I will be very frank with you, Richard, as I have the lij. to be at such a time. The faults of your youth, when v lived in this house, were not hid from me. The one wli: concerned me most, and which does concern me still, ii more seriously than ever, is your uaturfil dispositioa to I ■^ A LOS 7' IDEAL 8t t ho folt far from ■8 to trust ine," lu in: ^If firsit alwiiy!^. Ymir success, T f«'ar, may liftvo IicIimmI to i^stcr this hrscttiii;^' sin ; luit nli, Iml, rcincnil>cr that in tho Himiiii^'c cstatr it is ulisoliitrly fatal to hai»|iiiu'ss. Thf hcst flf woiin'ii arc a|)t, Cmd kiidws, out of tlic sweetness of lh(Mr iko an open ^,,, ^4,),,!^^ to jiainh-r uneoiiseiously to nur scllishness. I cau ^h. ;y unpahitalih'. 0|))y inijdore yon to uproot, or at h-ast keep it lit check. Ami wlio had his h(v>t f^p t|„, ,.,,st, since Helen has passed licr word, I can only say, God hless and help yon hoth. May He deal witli you, Uichard 1 other sufficiently," Woodgatc, as you dual with liur." ml o]»portunities ni - md 1 suppose; I an at oncu uudcrstaii' and her hori/on i thiidv the risk ^ in many respects > " It will ho a fii, dream of." hard. Thequestio ; .ife? I much doul v Lir life, witli its iii . spect antagonistic ' fess 1 cannot rcgm nxiety." adaptahility," put leUl for its exerci> ,vifo to occasion v '^ \\ stanI P i If t I ll I CITAPTRR TTI "Yea, &\v my thou^'Iils of tlirc most vi^^'ilaiit; The ciuisu is largely wiit upon my hoart." ',: NI) now, Richiird, vvci may discuss tlm details, if you like," said the ministcn-, rcsuiniii^ hi natural voico and sinking' l)a(dv in his chair jj^ " Your homo, of courso, will ho in London?" *'YvS, when we set it up," said \Vo()d^'!itf. also more naturally, for the solemnity of tin; past remark- was not agreeable to him. " lUit I shouM like to take a loiu holiday first. I don't think lEclen would liave any o]>jectii)i to trav(d, and we shall never have a better opportunity than a first, wluMi we have no other tics." "Ah!" The monosyllable forced itself rather drily from the minister lips, between two puffs of tol)acco smoke. " You would go abroad — where, and for liow long 1 " " Oh, six months, perhaps, supposing we married a Christmas " — "At Christmas? Bless my soul, Richard, I wonder you dar' sit there and propose any such thing. Why, it will take a yea at least to grow accustomed to the idea of her departure. YV cannot pretend that you are absolutely indispensable to eat: other ; at anyrate, you have taken a good while to find it out.' Woodgate laughed, and looked yet more at his ease, findiii this an easier mood to cope with. 22 d a n li I h o] ai li: m lii ED wi gei ev I ■M t i A LOST IDEAL n . vif^iliuit; heart." cusa tlio (lotiiils, if t(!r, resuming' hi^ )iick ill liis <'l»;»ii 10 in Lontlon?" " s;ii(l \V()(i(l<,'iitf, i\w past reinaik- liko to tako a Ion. liave any obj-uitidi ()pl)oi'tunity than ;i y from the minister how long ? " ig we married a 1, I wonder you dai y, it will takii a yea ler departure. Yt' dispensable to eiu hile to find it out.' at his ease, findin "You (iro nntitl«'d to your littl«! lu>nK'-thrust, sir," ho said. ["I hav«« always ndiuin-d and carrd for llflrn, but the inipulso to marry, I think, must always come upon a man suii(h'idy. A jliancc word or h»ok may suggest it to him, and tln-n h«' lonih'rs wliy he has so stupidly ignorcil it so h>ng. I have lo other exjihmatiitn to oiler of my tardiness in wooing; it is i]w tme one." Tlie minister aecepte(l it as su( h. He. had no reason to loubt the young man's veracity, and he was t(M) large-mindetl inrian 1 where 1 Has he been here 1 " "He was in the garden about an hour ago, with some message for you about a sick woman. I don't think Laidlaw improves as he grows older. He has undeniable talent in his own profession, and it is a pity he does not seek a wider sphere." "He never will; but what do you mean by saying he does not improve? I see no room for improvement. He is one of the finest fellows God ever made." " Oh, I grant that he has a good heart, but the outward man lacks polish. He was quite bearish this evening." " Perhaps he liad reason. There is no doubt that Helen's marriage, when it takes place, will be a fearful disap[)oiiit- ment to him," said the minister, betrayed into an expression of opinion he immediately regretted, thougli it was not a new idea to Woodgate. " Oranted ; but he might be genennis enough to rejoice over a friend's good luck," said Woodgate. " I don't think I shall stay, meantime. In fact, I can't. I have a dinner engagement I must keep on Friday." " And this is Wednesday. You must leave to-morrow, then ? Hardly fair that to us." "I'm very sorry, sir, but I shall return soon," said Woodgate, not saying that he would only be too glad to escape the conventional congratulations of sundry neighbours. " Have I your consent, then, to press for an early marriage? I have a piece of work in view which must be written abroad, and I should not like to go this time without Helen." " I suppose, if you have both made up your mind.s, there is nothing left for me but to fall in," said the minister, as he rose. 1 ijiii I'l \\ ; If I t! I ! 26 A LOST IDEAL " We can talk over this ngain after I have seen Helen. You will not leave till to-morrow nij^^lit, at least. Send Helen to me as you go out. I suppose she will not be far away." Wootlgate felt himself a trifle peremptorily dismissed, and at once left the room, a little disappointed at the manner of his reception. He really helioved that he was conferring a gr-at honour on the country manse. He did not feel in a mood even for Helen's society, and, instead of seeking her, took his cap from the hall-slund and jtasscd out into the garden by the front door. Hearing the sound, Helen, who had been waiting in the drawing-room, ran nervously downstairs, too late, however, td see him. She was standing irresolute on the last step, when the study door opened, and her father called her — "Come here, Helen." She obeyed him tremblingly, almost like a child convicted of a fault. Demonstrations of feeling were not common in that reserved and placid household, but it was no common moment The minister drew her to him, laid his hands on her shoulders, and looked into her face with a searching and peculiar tender- ness. The resemblance between them was then seen to be singu.arly striking. " I thought my cares about my motherless girls were over when I gave Annie to Gavin Douglas. Perhaps they are only beginning, Helen." " Oh, papa, why do you say so 1 " cried Helen, with a mingling of apprehension and womanly shyness. " Do you — do you not like Richard, whom we have known so long, and of whom we have all grown so proud % " The minister could not look into that pleading, upturned face and give voice to the misgivings of his soul. "My dear, my dear," he said unsteadily, "we may like a man very well, and be very proud of him too ; but when it conu'.> to giving him wlnt is our dearest on earth, it is a very ditfereiii matter." " Oh, if it is only that ! " she said, with evident relief. " You have never called me that before, papa. Am I then so dear t' you?" ># 'i !i A LOST IDEAL 27 seen Helen. You . Send Helen to far away." ' dismissed, and at the manner of his conferring a gr"at 3el in a mood even her, took his cap ;arden by the front )een waiting in the ) late, however, id be last step, when her — , child convicted of >t common in that ) common moment. ,s on her shoulders, ,nd peculiar tender- then seen to be 3SS girls were over [■haps they are only 3n, with a mingliiiL' you — do you not g, and of whom \vt ding, upturned face we may like a man but when it collK'^ t is a very diii'ereii: dent relief. " Yoii I then so dear t " I did not know, my daughter, till I had to face the possi- bility of giving you up, how my soul clave to you. If you be to the man you have chosen a wife such as the daughter you Jiave })cen to mc, he will be indeed blessed." I "And Richard, dear papa — have you nothing to say about iiim? Surely you are pleased! I only fear I may disappoint him. I am such a plain, unintellectual person." "Hush!" There was real sternness in the minister's tone as he put his hand on her lips. "You are more than worthy, and he very well knows it. You have chosen your lot in lift', my dear, and it may be that the Lord has a great work for you to do in another sphere. But we in this quiet spot will miss you, Helen, 1: '.v sadly we shall not know till you have gone away." There was more sadness than elation in his voice as he spoke, and Helen's heart was too full to speak. She felt for the first tiaie the bitterness of conflicting loves. Never had the father she revenid seemed so dear, never had the simple harmony of their placid life seemed so exquisite a thing. For the moment the lover and the ideal life suffered by comparison. The one she had proved, and loved because she had proved it, while from the other the hand of experience alone would liii the veil. " The lights of Broadrule," said the minister, as he put his hand on the blind to shut out the night. " If I mistake not, there will be a sorer heart there than here when Helen Lockhart bids good-bye to Teviotdale. But there is Richard in the garden, waiting, I suppose, for you. Go to him, my darling, and take my blessing with you." He kissed her once, and gently put her from the room. He was a man of deej) feeling, wdiich as a rule he kei)t under curb, but he felt his composure leaving him, and did not wish to sadden Helen by his distress. He locked the door after her, and went down upon his knees, conscious of a load lying upon his soul, and fain to lay it, as he had laid many a burden through a long life, at the foot of the Cross. Helen, agitated and far from happy, went to the fiont door, and Woodgate at once caught sight of her. iw llji 1 1 !iir i. I ! I ii '! 28 /4 zasr IDEAL "Where can I get you a shawl, Helen? Let us stay out (tf doors." She stepped back, took a wrap from the chiakroom, and joined him, closing the door behind her. He drew her hand witiiiii his arm, and they walked down the dark avenue in silence. "Well, Helen, it was a pretty severe ordeal," he said pre- sently. "I confess I was disappointed. What did he say to your' "Not much," replied TT(den tremulously. "It is natural, of course, that he should be downcast a little at the idea of beiii;,' left. I am all he has." "There was something more than that," said Woodgate, a trifle discontentedly. "Were the thing not too absurd to be entertained, I should say he distrusted me. He certainly gavo me that impression. I have a rival in Laidlaw, I know very well. I wonder if he has been speaking disparagingly of nio to your father 1 " In the darkness Helen's colour rose. " Why will you be so unjust to Brian, Richard? He is incapable of smdi a thing." " He looked at me to-night, anyhow, as if he'd like to show fight. But, poor beggar, I must not be too hard on him, seeing,' he has lost what I have won." " I think papa and you l)uth make a mistake. I am sure Brian likes me as a friend only, just as he has always done." "Oh, you will say that, of course," said Woodgate lightly; " but you don't believe it. Well, I think, Helen, I shall gain my point, even with your stern parent. Shall we fix the day now 1 — twenty-fourth of December, or Christmas Day, if you will. Did papa give his consent to that 1 " " He did not refuse." " I wish I could take you away now out of all the fuss ami nonsense, and that we could be nuirried quietly where nobodv knows us." " But that is impossible. There are some friends we niii.-: consider as well as ( irselves, Kichard." " Oh yes, I know what I have to go through," said Woodgate, with affected amusement. " I shall have to run the gauntlet oi III 1 ■ [ill I I 1 ' A LOST IDEAL 29 Let us stay out of kroom, and joined ■ her hiind witliiii lue in silence, leal," he said pvf- 111 1 did l»e say to " It is natural, of the idea of being said Wood<^ate, a too ahsurd to he He certainly gave Haw, I know very isparagingly of nu> hy will you be so if such a thing." he'd like to show lard on him, seeinj,' stake. I am sun IS always done." Woodgate lightly ; lelen, I shall gain lall we fix the day stmas Day, if you mhe whole Pale's disapproval, hut old Madam Douglas is the %hief Inigbcar. Heavens! what a tongue the old lady has, and ;how mortally she hates me !" ,^ "Oh, Richard, how can you?" said Hebn reprovingly. " Tt ^s because you contradict her so badly that she talks at you. 8I1C is very nice and amiable too if you take her the right way "— "Yes, but why should I?"(iueried Woodgate whimsically. *'You conciliate everybody, Helen, and it doesn't pay. You'll have to be a trifle more discriminating by and by, or I don't know what will become of us. I think ^liidani Douglas an iiisufrcrable old Avoman, and if your sister didn't calndy ignore her, Broadyards would soon be a ])andenionium. Don't look so distressed, my darling. I'll do anything to please you, even consent to be presented at a family (iinner-party, if you «iy the word." • " I suppose there must be something of the kind. INIadam Douglas gave one when Gavin and Annie were engaged," said Helen; and again AVoodgate smiled. Her simple, unques- tioning regard for all that was conventional and proper amused bini more and more. " Well, it can't be on this occasion, for I must leave to- morrow, being engaged to dine at the Parthenon Club on Friday night, but I shall come back as soon as I can to do what is recpiired in the way of being trotted out." The talk of such a speedy departure turned the conversation iato other and more loverdike grooves, and for the time bein^r iVerything disagreeable and unwelcome was forgotten. of all the fuss and tly where nobody le 10 friends we uuin rh," said Woodgate. run the gauntlet oi ^ yn !' 1,11 CHAPTER IV "The bond is sweet, my father, It tastes of heaven." LD ])octoT Laidluw, enjoying his after-dinner pij)L on the doorstep of his liouse at Broadrulc, was amazed to behold his son galloping up the road as if a witch pursued him. " Now, what on eartli does the rascal mean, I wonder ? " he said half aloud. " There's been trouble ii] Rule Water this day, and that's how he lays the thing t heart." He took a tremendous puff at his long churchwarden, aiii sauntered round the end of the house to be ready for tlit rascal when he should ride up to the stable gates. " He's coming, Tom," he said to the groom cleaning harncs. at the carriage-house door; "and I'U warrant ye Bob will h. in a bonnie mess. Ye can get your pails ready." Then he went out to the gate and there stood, a poiil figure in the ruddy evening light, wearing a light grey twet'. suit and a fine white waistcoat, across which dangled an oL! fashioned chain and seals. His face was round and ruddy a a winter apple, and his remnant of white hair made a uk P " fringe under the edge of his gaudy smoking-cap, which li wore jauntily, as if he thought it very becoming to him. Tl: old doctor was a deal more dainty and fastidious about b; ( 1 a e JS f( hi w SI ro m th Bi ah tej Br wl bu coi de abJ nol wc vil floi dress thao the vouni? one. and he looked the very pictiu'e 80 SII A LOST IDEAL 31 3r, lis after-dinner pipt Duse at Eroadrulc, 3n galloping up the n. ps the rascal mean, ;'s been trouble \\\ 5 lays the thing t r churchwarden, anc to be ready for tht i gates. 3om cleaning harness ■rant ye Bob will V eady." here stood, a povil; g a light grey twee. Tich dangled an oli round and ruddy a be hair made a nci oking-cap, which \ coming to him. Tl fastidious about b; I the very pictiue i (ihe jolly old country gentlen^an he was. His whole face shone is he watched the horse and rider rapidly covering the road ; his pride in his gallant boy was very unatlected and uncon- oeak'd. It showed itself in every look and tone and act, even in the wholesome counsel and reproof which he thought lit at times to administer when occasion required. He was the one child of his old age, the only legacy left by the bright- eyed Irish girl who had lived only twelve months after she had come a bride from Erin to the quiet parish of Broadrule. Burying his heart-sorrow as best he might, the old doctor found his best consolation in the rearing of his boy ; and they had been chums in the truest sense of the word, since the days when the little Brian, sitting straight and proud on his Shetland's back, rode by his father's side as he went liis rounds. It was a sight both pretty and pathetic, which had moved many a tender woman's heart to pity for the pair ; but the old doctor sought no second mistress for the house of Broadrule. The relationship between father and son was almost perfect ; tiffs they had in plenty, both being hot- tempered to a degree, but never a sting was left behind. Biian's college career had been a long series of triumphs, and when, crowned with honours, he came home to take the bljffden off his father's shoulders, the old man felt that he could say with Simeon, " Lord, now lettest thou Thy servant depart in peace." Many pitied the two lonely men, living with only servants f£bdut them in that big old family house, but they wanted nobody's pity, and did not know what loneliness meant. The village of Broadrule was a quaint, picturesijue, old- world spot, built in the English fashion squarely round the village green. In the middle of the green grew sundry flourishing beech-trees which afforded shade to the village politicians who met of an evening to discuss the affairs of the nation, and the homely gossip of the country-side. It was a peaceable, sleepy, contented little place; almost ideal in its simplicity of life. As was to be expected, the doctor's abode W# the "big house" of the place, and the two doctors the i|r ! m m li 32 A LOST IDEAL r ir ai w B cc th se th sei ol)jiets of univorsiil rospo(!t and ostocMii. Porhaps it was r, narrow sj)lu'r(\ as soiuo sai into his favourite easy trot; but the somciwbat gloomy ex ])ression of his face did not relax, oven wlieri lio oncounteri\ the old gentleman's keenly inquiring gaze. " Well, lad," said the old doctor, as ho laid his haiii anxiously on the bridle, "was the j>oor body beyond your aid? "Oh no," answered Brian, sull'-ring his face to clem " She'll do if they take care of her. I thought this a ca,- requiring our intervention, dad, so I stopped at Cavering an telegraphed to Edinburgh for a nurse. It's a valuable lift and we must do what we can to save it. Poor AVatson gratitudii when I gave him some hope was quite touching." " You're a clever chap, Brian, ami a good chap, which \> maybe, l)ettcr," said the old man ; and Brian laughed as li ^^ swung himself from his saddle. " Here, Tom, give him a wash down and a good feed ; li deserves it," he said to the groom, and gave the animal kindly pat as he turned away. " AVhat were you flecin' u{) the road at sic a gait for?" askc the old doctor. " For a' the world as if the deil pursued ye." " Perhaps he did," replied Brian. " Aren't you famishe for your dinner?" " I've had it an hour ago and more. At my age, lad, a ma it can't make a fool of his stomach with impunity, as you'll tin not out yourself some fine day. But yours is waiting for you." troi " I don't think I mind about it," said Brian absently. " What for no ? Are ye by eating % Like enough you'v said gone the whole day on an empty stomach." " No, I had a plate of kail and a bit oatcake, with a nip c unci whisky, at Cavering, and very good they were too. Anybou buil would think rae a gomeril or a bairn, father, to hear ye," nan to bai old a 1 i I A LOST J DEAL 33 Porhapa it was r, rich coniponsatioii- ut goiiiiino hearts Laidlaw, who AVii , no mail his widti lor waitini^' for hiii. ed Bob to relaps. owhat gloomy ex en ho eiicounterc'i h.o laid his haiv beyond your ai«ir his face to ck^iii ,hought this a ciu leu at Cavering an It's a vahiahki \\l it. Poor Watson (piito touching." 'ood chap, which v :>rian laughed as li lid a good feed ; n gave the animal ic a gait for 1 " askc deil pursued ye." |ren't you famishe^ my age, lad, a ma mnity, as you'll fin waiting for you." lian absently. iLike enough you'v ^tcake, with a nip c i^ere too. Anybotl; k to hear ye," Ofton when alone they rclaiiscd into th(5 broad Scotch both loved, tlioiigh bitth could, wiicn necessary, use the polished Eiigli^li of th(! most cultivated soci(^ty. , " Ve, lire nejtlier, lad, neither, only thrawn wliiles. But yci'll «at yfMir dinner tliis niglit if 1 should feed you niysel'." "Oil, rU eat it fast enough. Faith, I feel tired now. I've had a long bX% at this moment, I could bet a fiver." [ his mother," he s « ATiother new one, Guy ? Where did you get her?" queried e, which showed t! the doctor eagerly. ** Reared her myself. Yoiir man says she's a beauty. I as he took a biti broke her mys(df too, and she's as (juiet as a lamb to ride and drive. I meant her for my wif(;'s riding, but she won't look achfuUy. Very ca- at her. Nothing in her head but babies; she can't look at [ind made up a coi anything else." Brian did not want ^e doctor laughed, and they passed out into the i)leasant he rather dreadt September twilight and sauntered to the gate, where Tom the red though he wa>, groom was admiringly regarding the smart dogcart and the new mare. She was, indeed, a lovely piece of horsetlesh, and ,(J, the doctor, himself no mean judge, regarded her dainty points back. B^it you'll -vvith silent ecstasy. 'Xoxl It's not oftfii "She's a beauty, and no mistake. Brian will break the tenth commandment presently when he sees her. I say, what's e's necdin' his binl brought Woodgate here just now ?" ,le more than a 1'" This sudden question took Guy entirely by surprise, but ilth and strength befdre he could reply, Brian had joined them, and the talk B.» reverted to the mare. The old doctor watched them drive y's work in you away out of sight presently, and then went back to his study m 'ii (,! 36 A LOST IDEAL LI III [ m i; i! I : I I jiiid liis pip<^, thinking tenderly of the two lads, who wore liot}] dt'iir to him, and whose warm friendship was a thing which had always ph-ascd him mightily. 11(5 was somewhat trouhl**!, however, and he could not tell why, ahout W(»(»dgate hcing a: the manse. In some su))tle way Jh'ian's heaviness of soul lia: communicated itself to him, and ho found less solace than usuii in his pipe. "Did you know Woodgate had come to the manse, Guy? asked I»rian, as they ])owl('d swifUy along the road, the mar keeping her lovely head well up and snilling the sweet eveniii. air with keen delight. ** No, I didn't, till your father mentioned it just now," sai liroadyards. "Helen was over this morning, hut slie nevt mention(Ml it. Awfully close is Helen when she likes." " Rather think he came unexpectedly." " Um ! Unexpected and uninvited, like our snell east winiK said the laird grullly. " I say, lirian," — he hesitated a mom( i and then out with it, — "don't let that hookmaking chap t;.! away Helen." " I doubt that's his errand," Brian answered, with li;i averted head. " But dvuH let him," urged Broadyards, giving the maro unexpected flick with the whip wlr-^h set her quiverin*; every limb. "Don't you want to keep her herol I coi have sworn you did." " I do. Heaven knows I do ! " said Brian passionatt "But I doubt he's in the running this time, not I." " Well, I think you're a fool, Brian, upon my honour do, if you let that whipper-snapper step in and lift Helen fi before your nose. I thought you'd more pluck in you ti that. Why, everybody knows he isn't fit for her, and that was made for Broadrule." Brian smiled a trifle drearily. This masterful style of : was all very well for Guy, whose course of love had smoothly from start to finish. But though Helen and Ai were sisters, they were cast in a difl'erent mould. "He's got the things women care for," he said, just at' A LOST IDEAL 37 (!a, who woTO lK)ty, a thing which hac miowhat trouhbd W(»(Ml^iito b<'in^ ;r tvincHS of soul Iisk ^s HoUice than uhiiu, the nianao, Oiiy \ tho roa«l, tho mar tf the sweet eveiiin. d it jiiat now," sai ling, hut she neV' u she Ukes." our sncll east wintl . hesitated a niomn )okniaking chap t;.! ms wereil, with lia , giving the maro set her quiverin*^ her hcrol 1 t^^'' 1 Brian passionat. le, not I." , upon my honour ill and Uft Helen fr re phick in you ti t for her, and that masterful style of : irse of love had ,ugh Helen and Ai b mould. c," he said, just a t: •avagi'l}'. "Fine soft niann»'rs and flattering words; and, Unlt'SM my eyps (h'ceived me to-night, the girl j)ut tlie odds on a ehap like me, who has nothing to otlVr her hut an honest heart And a pair of willing hands." IJroadyards deliberately swore undisr his hreatli, though not iddietcd to strong language, except under the severest provo('ati(jn. " I'd have her yet, Brian. You're on tho spot, and can eonduct the siege. \i Helen chooses him in prefcrenee to you, all I can say is, she richly deserves the hard bed she'll have to lie oil ; but I won't believe it till I see them married. Helen would never bo such a fool." Brian remained silent, but quite unconvinced ; and his silence irritated his friend, who had all that concerned him so truly at heart. "You won't let him have an easy walk over; i)romise mo that," he jjursued eagerly. " I can't stand the fellow — never could stand him, even when a boy, and now ho makes my gorge rise." "Let's talk of something else, Guy," said Brian (juickly. **All the talk in the world will never mend that matter. Though I'd give my right hand willingly to see Helen Lockhart at Broadrule, the day'll never como— that I know, my lad, right well." m. IT \ jiiii" i !i ! i I : h '! ;: MdH CHAPTER V "A little rift witbin the lute." ^lOODGATE left the manse next morning. Nov that the object of his visit was accomplished, he seemed eager to be gone ; the engagemeii: at the Parthenon was not important, seeing i' was a weekly institution, at which eacl member was bound to read something original, and Woodgat had already twice fulfilled that obligation, and would m be called on for some time. But he allowed Helen t tliink the engagement imperative, and departed with man apologies and many regrets. He was by no means ;i: ardent lover, though he believed that he honestly cared i< Helen above all women. Her answer had filled him with calm satisfaction ; and as the train bore him southwaiv through the rolling masses of the Cheviot Hills, he to! himself that he had done well by himself and the Lockhart They had been kind friends to him, giving him a home \ his orphan boyhood, and no man could now say he had ii richly acknowledged that debt. In giving Helen a positi' such as she would not otherwise have aspired to, he felt tli he was also supplying himself with a kind of sheet-ancli to steady himself before the shifting winds of a thorougli Bohemian life. There were one or two pages in that life: would not wish Helen ever to read ; she would never know them; under her pure guidano<^ )ie would become a model. > ><8 If A LOST IDEAL 39 •* xt morning. Nov was accomplished, 3; the engagemeii- mportant, seeing r , at which eiul nal, and Woodgat n, and would m allowed Helen t iparted with man; by no means a: honestly cared i I filled him with -e him southwari viot Hills, he to! and the Lockhari ing him a home : LOW say he had 11 g Helen a positi >ired to, he felt tli ind of sheet- an cli ids of a thorougli Dages in that life: muld never kno^v 3ecome a model. ' ie lightly rumniated as he watched his cigarette smoke curling ttirough the carriage window, and gave himself up to visions of Ibarried life in which his l)eautiful wife, so perfectly natural and sincerely trutlifnl, so womanly and so gracious, should awaken wonder in the souls of the men and women of his acquaintance. He told himself that he had never sliowed his genius and his sense of artistic fitness more conspicuously than in his choice of a wife. A man may have tender passages, may whisper love-nonsense to many women, hut the wise man vchen choosing a wife avoids such, and seeks the pearl of true womanhood, somewhat rarer to find, perhaps, in these artificial days than of yor(\ So Woodgate, in a truly complacent frame of mind, returned to his London haunts, having made a great upheaval in the quiet manse on the banks of the Teviot. Helen was left wondering a little at the sadness of her own heart. Her father had given his blessing ; yet she felt none of that blissful elation which happy love, so crowned, is entitled to feel. Woodgate left at two o'clock, being driven to Hallkjrk Station by the minister himself. When he returned, he at once sought Helen, who was wandering about the house in a state of rest- lessness as painful as it was unusual with her. *' Put on your hat, Helen, and we'll walk over to Broadyards." " To-day, papa % " she asked, with so evident a reluctance that lie regarded her with surprise. ** Why, do you not wish your sister to know, my dear?" " Yes, papa, of course ; but need there be any hurry % It is best not to have such things too much talked of, and you know Madam is at Broadyards this week, and before to-morrow it will be through the Dale." Somehow the speech irritated the good man, who, to tell the iruth, had been somewhat put out already that morning by his talk with his future son-in-law. He was indeed a great deal more dissatisfied than he cared to own even to himself. "And what although all the Dale should know by to-morrow? If the marriage is to be in such haste, the sooner it is known the better." j^ /O m\f: jl|ili!l I i ^i ,' ' li.i 40 A LOST IDEAL Helen's colour rose at this unusual tone, and her eyes becamp ey suspiciously moist. he "Papa, what can you mean^ You talk as if I wished tn he marry someone who is not quite — quite respectable, instead of Itich.ard, wlio it seems to me is honoured and appreciated every- toe whore as he deserves to be, except here, where he might l)i enl expected to have some true friends." rfg Helen's distressed manner melted him at once. wh " ]\ry dear, I would not hurt you for the world, and I dori't his wish to cast any aspersions on Richard, who I am sure has mil many good qualities, though less humility than one likes to sci and in a young man. But you must remember that many in tin Ga"" Dale will bear him an everlasting grudge for taking you away, in so you had best prepare yourself for it." haj " You will not allow Madam to say stinging things to nic, Goc papa ? " said Helen quickly. " If she does, I am afraid I slial! rud ])e rude to her. She does not like Richard, and 'her tongii the spares nobody ; but I feel as if I could not bear very nuRl. kin( to-day." to t] " jNIy dear, I'll bridle the old lady's tongue at any cost," tli' mag minister said good-humouredly. "Get your hat, and don't Lmli nati so doleful as if we were discussing a burying instead of ;, imp marrying." Mac As they sauntered across the lovely autumn iields and wootb, houj ft)llowing the winding course of the river to the house of Broad suffi yards, Helen was so plair^y repressed and silent that her fathrlivec had to make an effort to rouse her. Reflecting with a sigh thaand it was after all the happiest policy to make the best of disdid agreeable things (in that light did Mr. Lockhart regard liiBorf daughter's engagement to the rising author of the day), lison deliljerately set himself to look at the brighter side, and s^ear began to talk with genial and ai)preciative criticism of the woiiof li< Richard had done in the past — so full of promise that it justitit^^"© the highest hopes for future achievement; and he managed t^i^'^* point out delicately, yet with force, what would be Heleii^f "< part in the future, to encourage, to stimulate, to spur on tP^iie higher endeavour Listening to him, Helen's face cleared, ht^^wti \:r'\' 1;!' 'i' A LOST WEAL 41 1 her eyes becamp eyes became exquisitely briglit; it was a vision such as she hersL'lf cuti-rtained, a destiny of which she prayed (lod to make IS if I wished to her wortliy. ectable, instead of appreciated every- here he might lie •nee. The discussion of this enchanting theme brought them, all too (puckly it seemed to Helen, to the wicket gate giving entrance to the park of liroadyards. The riverside path was a right of way, and was always a pleasant walk ; even in winter, when the snow lay thickly on tlie ground, the laird would send world, and I don't his men to clear the way right to the manse. Well might the ho I am sure ha? minister think that his cares were over concerning the younger lan one likes to see and more wayward of his motherless girls when he gave her to that many in tin Gavin Douglas. The name, one of the oldest and most honoured T takin"- you away, in Scotland, was held in high esteem in the Dale, because it hau been borne for many generations by an honest, manly, o'in"' thing's to me, God-fearing race of men. Blunt of manner, and sometimes I am afraid I shal! rude of si)eech, the Broadyards Douglases had ever been, and rd and'her tongu the present laird was no exception to the rule. But he was ot bear very mud. kind of heart and true as steel ; his word as good as his bond to the meanest servitor on his lands ; generous to friends and ue at any cost," tli' magnaninioub to foes, he was alike respected and beloved in his hat and don't Indl native dale. Brc lyards was a large estate, and the mansion an iryinf instead of ;. imposing pile, tit abode for any great lady in the land. Old Madam, who at her son's marriage had retired to her dower in fields and wood- house of Teviothead, had said that the new mistress had hardly the house of Broiid sufficient dignity tv? gracefully supplant the old, but she had ilent that her fatln lived to change her mind. Annie Lockhart was small in stature .in" with a sigh tluvand uniniposing in api)earance, but she could hold her own, and ike the best of di-did too, even against the proud old lady, who had haughty ;.ockhart regard liiBorder blood in her veins, and had secretly thought her one lor of the day), Ir^on might Inive done better for himself. But she loved him •i'diter side, and N'Jewly, and hated feuds; therefore, after one straight expression Htieism of the wui'pf liw disapproval, one attempt to make him change his mind, Dmisethatitjustitushe gave in, and abdicated in favour of the daughter of the and he managed tnianse. This was rendered a somewhat easier task by reason would be Hek'ipf h«r adoration of the minister, whom she regarded as the only ilate, to spur on t perfect man that walked the earth. So on the whole the m's face cleared, he^la^ions betwixt Teviothead and Broadyards were amicabie i I li 't 42 A LOST WEAL H i:l iiiiti M I'i .i!j iili.ii:li enough, though there had been many passages at arms between tlie old lady and the young one, especially regarding the rearing of the heir, in whose welfare ^Nladam maintained her unassail- able interest and concern. The old doctor was responsible fd: the somewhat Frenchified title of Madam, which had stuck h her after he had used it once or twice ; and it pleased licr because it conferred the distinction she loved upon lu; p6rf5onality. Helen regarded her sister's lot as a happy one, but never fu a moment envied her her great possessions. Annie's little air- patronising and pretentious, though too graceful to be oft'ensivt amused her infinitely, as did the skirmishes between her an^ Madam. Helen's ideal of married happiness did not centre i: a fine house, a horde of servants, and other outward trappiiiL' of worldly prosperity. She was cast in a different mould, h;i inherited something of her father's dreamy, sensitive natun and probed more deeply into the heart of things. She aske- too much of life, and disappointment awaited her. On that mild afternoon the hall door of Broadyards stoc wide open, and the interior of the hall looked inviting and hospi able indeed. It was large, square, and massive, panelled in bl;u' oak, and adorned with rather a formidable array of armour an warlike weapons. A rich crimson Turkey carpet covered tl: floor, its soft pile deadening every foot. Privileged, of cour- to enter unannounced, they passed in ; the minister hung i; his hat, and Helen approached the staircase. " Annie will be in the nurser}'-, likely. I suppose we sha find you, })apa, in the library, when we come down ? " " Right, my dear," he replied, and Helen slowly ascended tl stairs. Half-way up she met Bethune, Madame Douglas's niai without whom she scarcely stirred a foot. She was a Ion, gaunt, elderly person, with a great deal of shrewd eh? ract in her face, and a remarkable absence of grace in her maniit and speech. " Good-afternoon, Bethune ; I hope you are very well — ai your mistress 1 " " Yes, ma'am. Madam's lying down. The young mistrt A LOST IDEAL 43 s at arras iDetween arding the reariii: lined her unassail- /as responsible foi liich had stuck ti id it pleased licr loved upon he: one, but never fu: Annie's little air> ifnl to be oftensiv. 3 between her an 5 did not centre i: • outward trappini.' itferent mould, ha /•, sensitive natmv bhings. She aske d her. I Broadyards stoc inviting and hospi re, panelled in blai: rray of armour an carpet covered tl. ■ivileged, of cours minister hung ii I suppose we slia e down?" slowly ascended tl ime Douglas's niai She was a loi: if shrewd ch? racl ace in her manm are very well — a: The young mistrt 2e tting dressed. I heard nurse say she was going to the jjianse. " ( 111, then, she will be in her own rof»m," said Helen, and, passing on, opened Annie's door without ceremony. "' I'm saved another flight of stairs for once, Annie," she said, with a smile. "IJethune told me you were here." " ( )h, there you are, Ileien. Yes, I was coming over. la pupa here too 1 " *' Yes, downstairs," replied Helen, and sat down on a chair near the bed, rather dreading, if 't must be told, the sharp scrutiny, and perhaps sharper speech, of her young sister. Mrs. Douglas had on her bonnet; she now carefully took it ofi' again in a most unusual silence, which Helen did not seek to break. Then she turned round, and, leaning her plump white hand on the dressing-table, looked her sister very seriously in the face. They presented quite a contrast to each other, being totally unlike in jierson as they were in personality. Helen was tall, slender, dignified ; Annie short, round, and inclined to stoutness. Helen's face, though clear, was dark- skinned, and her hair nearly as black as the raven's wing ; her sister had a sweet, round, baby face, a mass of curly fair hair, blue eyes, and a certain childish grace which had enchained the heart of the big laird of Broadyards, and bound him with silken cords. She was small, yet not insignificant ; there was a good deal of character in her face when it came to be studied, and she was by no means undecided either in her opinions or her expression of the same, as Madam Douglas had very abundantly proved. "Helen, you look quite beautiful to-day> but ever so sad. W|? had Brian here last night, and after he went away, Cuy suggested a perfectly awful thing to me — that Dick had come to take you away. I could not sleej) for quite an hour, think- ing of it. By the bye, where is Dick ? Is he downstairs with papa 1 " *' No ; he has gone back to London, Annie, at three o'clock this afternoon." " Oh ! " The little lady pouted up her red lips, and gave m i hi if 'i. I't ll' f!.i;!l .1 , i is 'I I i i!! ill • : !'' !!! s V, ,|!is H- a 44 ^ /(95r IDEAL the pink ribbons at her wrist a little petulant twist. ** Witlioii as much as cominj^ to us even ? Well, I hope that will conviin Guy of the absurdity of his imagination." Helen's colour rose, and she slightly shook her head "Don't keep me in suspense, Helen," said Annie, quit sharply. " What did he come for, and why has he gone awa so quickly ? I hate mysteries — we never have any here." "There is no mystery," replied Helen quietly, and evf a trifle haughtily. " Kichard came here to ask papa f me, and he had to return immediately to fulfil an imperativ engagement." *' Helen, you do aggravate me. Are you going to marry hit or are you not % " "lam." " And papa has given his consent % " " Yes." Annie turned away then, and her eyes were smarting wit tears of genuine disappointment. Theiv) was a moment's pai; f ul silence. " Let us go up and see baby, in case we behai badly to each other," said Mrs. Douglas at length, in quite a altered voice, which Helen keenly felt. " We have been > anxious about him, the darling ; he had such a cough, and was so angry with Madam for laughing at my anxiety, and Avit Brian for making light of it before me. It is really a dreadfi thing to have a baby ; it keeps one so very, very anxious, a the time." " You fret needlessly, dear," said Helen, rising in relie " Dear baby is really a very healthy child, and Brian is rigl not to encourage you to be morbid over him." " Oh, you know nothing about it," said Annie, with the \\w superior air, and, opening her dressing-room door, she motioiu Helen to pass out before her and go upstairs. Helen went, nothing loth. In the presence of the baby tl baby's mother was not likely to talk of much else. The rooii set apart for the heir befitted his lot in life, though they wci spacious and handsome enough to have accommodated half dozen of his kind. A LOST IDEAL 45 , twist. "Withoii 3 that will convim : her hea*^! said Annie, quit has he gone awa Lve any here." quietly, and eve } to ask papa i fulfil an imperativ going to marry hie were smarting wii IS a moment's paii , in case we behai length, in quite a ' We have been ^ uch a cough, and y anxiety, and ^vit is really a dreadf y, very anxious, a tn, rising in relit , and Brian is rig! I." Lunic, with the mo> door, she motioiu s. ice of the baby tl ch else. The rooii e, though they wci commodated half „ The nurse, a capable, middle-aged person, selected after much leliberation and counsel, was busy with her sewing, and the baby slept soundly in his cot. " He is asleep, I see, nurse. You can go down now and have tea. :Miss Lockhart and I will stay by him," said the young mother, and she hung in an adoring attitude over the beautiful atom of humanity lying pink and plump among his delicate cambric and lace, making a pretty picture for any mother's eyes. " Isn't he a darling, Helen ? And isn't it wonderful that ho shoiild belong to Guy and me ? " she said rapturously ; then, quite suddenly, they being now quite alone, she laid her soft hand on her sister's shoulder and looked wistfully into her face. " Oh, Helen ! I had so set my heart on seeing you at Broad- rule with a little baby of your own; and I am quite, quite ceirtain, and so is Guy, that it will break poor Brian's heart." *' Don't be silly, Annie," said Helen, very harshly for her. "Everybody is sorry for Brian, except himself. He does 7iot care for me in that way, and never did." ** Oh, Helen, how can you ! Everybody has known it for years." Helen turned impatiently away. ** I am going to marry Richard, Annie, and you must not talk to me in this way again : do you hear, Annie ? never again. I cannot understand you all. To-day papa has spoken almost as if I wished to marry a quite undesirable person ; and now you say nothing but Brian to me, when I might have looked for a word of sisterly sympathy. It is very hard indeed to bear." Somehow Helen's tone and m..nner made her sister angry, and she drew back with a slightly offended look. " Oh, very well, marry Kichard, then ! and go away to that great London, where nobodj knows what will become of you. But I must say, I think you are standing in your own light. Where could you find another husband like Brian 1 and then you would be among all your own people, who adore you. Xothing will ever make up to you for that, as you will prove ; and I am sorry for Brian." ' r, ' f 11' i I m m lib I'll ■•■••h; 46 A LOST IDEAL m " Will you be still, Annie ? " cried Helen passionately. " You have no right to speak to me like that. Brian has never asked me, has never even hinted that he desired any such thing, ami 1 am sure he would be as indignant as I if he could hear you." Annie paused, half afraid. The awfulness of their demeanour towards each other suddenly struck her, and with a sob she clung to her sister's shoulder. " Oh, forgive me, Helen dear ! I don't mean to hurt you, but it is a disappointment, and I can't pretend it isn't. Ami I'll never more forgive Richard for it if I live to bo a thousand — no, I never willl" lionately. " You has never asked y such thing, ami could hear you." [ their demeanour I with a sob she ican to hurt you, ind it isn't. Ami i to bo a thousand CHAPTER VI *' Blunt of iiiaiincr, i>l;un of speech, Sharp tlio lessons she could teach." ET'S go and sit down and talk things over," said Mrs. I)(Uiglas at length. "Everything seems easier when it is talked over." She smoothed the baby's coverlet with a tender hand, and walked over to the window, Helen following her, and they sat a moment in silence. The prospect from the high windows of Broadyards was eilichanting, giving as much variety of hill and wood and stiream as the most fastidious eye could desire. Helen loved that prospect, every outstanding feature being a familiar land- mirk since those early days when a wise father had directed ■ hi^ young daughter's vision towards all the beauty with which a beneficent Creator has clothed the world. " I wish I liked Kichard better for your sake," began Annie plaintively. "I know he is fearfully clever, though I can't read his books, neither can Guy. But it is not so much clever- ness one wants in a husband as goodness." "I wish you would give me some reason for thinking that Richard will not make a good husband," said Helen stiffly. " My dear Helen, I didn't say so, did I ?— that he wouldn't make a good husband ; only sometimes when he was a boy, you know, he was not kind to us, and he always wanted the best things for himself. But, of course, he will be different now he is a man, still" — She became quiet suddenly, conscious that she 47 I..!' rr 48 A LOST WEAL im liii'iiiii i '1 ii ; i 1 ] ii , ill ! 1 ' . ;; i 1 1 il jliliS '■,■ 1 in ' 11; !i! i ■ 1 1 ji 1 M i 1 'i 1 li, 1 wis] |i|et (1 we .^ Btsi shoii (( atfii i( to h; to p( addri respc «] was adniinistoring very cold coiut'ort, uiul that her sister w,i rosnnting it kocnly. "I can't liclj) saying, anyliow, that ho ouglitn't to liavo ;,'(ti away to-day witliout coming to us. llo had plenty of tin before lunch; you and ho could hav(! walked over, and (Ii; could havMulrivcn him instead of papa. You can't say it w. resp(M!tful to us, Helen, for it wasn't." "I don't l)lame him, Annie, not in the least. ![(? knoM very well he is not much api)roved of here. I did not ui. him to come. But ho will bo back soon, and then vou sli;, see him." " Uack soon? I should just think ho ought to. I expect 1 wi 1 be here a great many times before papa or wo give c(msent to his taking you away." Helen slightly smiled. "You are quite mistaken, Annie. He may bo back oip Hek; but that will be all. I think we shall be married befn: and Christmas." iinkii " Helen Lockhart ! " the w " Don't excite yourself, Annie ; there is no need." Th *' You are dreaming — i)ositively dreaming, Helen, to say m lipe^ a thing. ^larried before Christmas, and this the tenth espec September! You don't know what you are saying. Nohix "^ would ever consent to such a hurried affair. It would po> Kicha tively not be decent. I shall oppose it anyhow, and so v: give Guy." had a " Papa has given his consent, and he is the only one I 11c begin to consider," Helen replied, with aggravating coolness. and fj At this young IN Irs. Douglas became rather red, and 1. they f small temper rose. She had a great idea of her own importai; is so and standing in the famil}^ and to be thus contemptuously - fault, aside was too much. humil " Y''ou are not very polite to me to-day, Helen, and I can or, It js f attribute it to Richard's influence," she said, with great digiii; ** Y " As you have made all your arrangements without consider;: pniile. me, there is no more to say. But I hope you won't regret At It can never be a good beginning co go entirely against t '*M' A LOST IDEAL 49 at Ikt sister w In't to have ^'ni (I i)lc,nty of til; (I over, aiul <'•! slips of one's family. I am very sorry to soo you so com- pletely under liis intluenee, Helen; and I can't understand it." *' r am not under liis influence, hut there is no reason wliy we should wiiit ; wo are old enou^di to know our own mimls. Besides, liichard wants to go ahroad for the winter, and why u can't say it w ghould ho f;o alone?" •'Ahrniid? Then, I suppose, you will not take a house just least. He knov ai first." I. I did not HI. '* Of course not.'* id then you sli;, «*It is all of a piece, and I must say it is rather humiliatin-; to have one's sister behave so ])adly. Why, what am I to say it to. I expect), to peoi)l(s when they ask about your home? 1 slijiU have no )a or wo give o address to give th(>m. It does not sound in the least nice or respectable, and what Madam will say I tremble to think." "Madam's opinion is absdlutidy no concern to me," said uay be back oik Helen, with a slight curl of the lips. "I have tried to like be married bcf( and respect her b(;cause she is Guy's mother, but she is an unkind, uncdiaritablo old woman, who always thinks and says the ^(U'st." need." This was very strong language, indeed, to fall from Helen's Helen, to say sm lipe, who was always so guarded in her expressions of opinion, this the tenth especially if unfavourable. sayiuf'. NobV; "Now you are showing more and more the influence of ir. It would pi> Richard," said her sister; "and I have one piece of advice to 'y, how and so v: give you, Helen, to which I think I am entitled, as I have had a great deal more experience than you. It is this : don't le only one I nc begin your married life by setting your husband on a pinnacle coolness. ^^ \ Look at Tnnt the usually placid Helen wliich might have warned ||adani not to broach the subject. But the sight of Helen in her winsomenes.s, Helen whom she so dearly loved, and was )iit to hold up as an exami)le everywhere, roused her indigiui- )n, and she held out hei hautl stillly. ^■1" Good-afternoon, Helen. I hope I see you well." * " Tea is in the drawing-room, pajta," said Annie nervously, dreading an encounter between her mother-in-law and her siett r in her present mood. " Let us go in. I am so sorry Guy has gone to a sale at Hallkirk, and will not be home tafsix." [The minister rose, a trifle nervously. He saw from Helen's i! A LOST IDEAL lll'i \.\v\\ % iM :$m m ii'ii face that things had not gone sniootlily upstairs, and that slif was in a highly strung condition of mind. But for the fac: that he felt tired and fagged himself, and ready for his earlv cup of tea, he would have hurried Helen away at once. IIi glanced imploringly at Matlanij, but she preserved her s-tit: demeanour, and sailed out of the room like a duchess. Altogether, that little family party, who had so often hk' under happy ciicunistances, united in loving interests, foiiiii themselves in an entirely new at^^itude towards each otlic! Madam preserved a rigid silence, an.^ wore her most forh'ddin. aspect. The minister had in a manuer bound her to silenut, but there is a silence a great deal more disturbing and exi)ri'> sive than mere speech. Helen was unhappy, and answered a; random the few commonplace remarks which accompanied tli- tea-drinking. It was a miserable farce, and all were glad wIicl it was over. " We had better go now, papa. Perhaps you will come ovc soon with bal)y, Annie ? It is nearly a week since you were a; the manse." * "I'll come to-morrow, i)erhaps, if it is line, and baby li;i' no cough." " Very well." Helen nodded, and then went up to Madam, "Good-bye, j\radain," she said. "Perhaps you may coii: Avith Annie too ^ We have not seen you this long time at tL manse." " ril not promise," said jNIadam stiffly ; then, as she felt tl grip of Helen's hand, she looked straight into the girl's eye and one large bright drop rolled from under her eyelid do^v her cheek. " Eh, my woman, ye're makin' mony a sair lica: in the Dale ; but gang awa', gang awa'. The minister's glowoiii at me, an' I daurna speak. Tlajig awa'," Helen turned away with a spasm contracting her face, ai elffenttn immediately she was without the door burst into tears, th|n h 01 lac evin as wllethe: liitle c I ■ 5 rs, ami that she ,ut for the fact ly for his earH y at once. IL-' ;ervecl her i-tit: ichess. id so often iiif interests, fouiii ,rds each otlu! most forhMldiii. d her to sileno, bing and exproN and answered a; accompanied tli' . were glad whei CHAPTER VII "Farewell, Lest of mine eyes thou sliouldst have less to tell Than now thou hast." u will come ovr since you were a; fj e, and hahy li.i it up to Madam, vou may cdiii ^|.ELEN began to prepare at once for her wedding, feeling relieved that the engagement was to be ^jKl^ short. When the news spread, there was not ^'\' in the parish that buzz of happy excitement so great an event as Miss Lockhart's marriage ight have been expected to create. The parish, like certain private individuals elected to be disappointed. It had long ago settled the ultimate destiny of the minister's daughter, and felt aggrieved to find itself so completely at ! long time at tl: fault. Perhaps the parish was not intellectual nor ambitious, perhaps it had but a narrow and bigoted vision, but it was n, as she felt tl siBccre and loving in its desire to keep Helen Lockhart in her ,0 the girl's eye olli home. 7is was natural, perhaj)S, it proceeded to glorify in Brian Laidlaw into a hero. He found himself, to his yreat astonishment and disgust, the recipient of a great diiil of kindly and sympathetic attention, which he did not wint, but resented savagely. During the last (juarter of that eTiBiitt'ul year Brian was guilty of more acts of wilful iliscourtesy than he had perpetrated during the whole course of his life. DM ladies who had made an idol of the brave young doctor etiin asked themselves and each other at their teadrinkings whether they had not made a mistake in his character all along. Ii|tle cared Brian. The only sympathy he brooked, and which 55 her eyelid 'dow: lony a sair hoai inister's glowcM'i: ing her face, ai ;ito tears. it i: . 'i.i ' "T T"^ 5^^ A LOST IDEAL w ! 1'^ i j I 4 4. ili^ii'li :ij.| i ^1 ■ (lid liim any good; \vas tliat of honest Guy Doiiglus ; a sympathy none the less genuine and suhstantial that it never said any- thing at all. But Brian felt it in the glance of his frieinl' fearbss eye — in the grip of his hand; and once lie so fa; unburdened his mind to Guy in a manner which l de tlia; honest man look at him in simple wonder. Guy was ; thoroughly good fellow, 1 ut he could not conceive of a love whicl. had in it so little alloy of self. It was of Helen he spolo entirely of Helen, betraying in his very manner and look tli intensity of his concern lest she in her married life should in be so tenderly cherished as she deserved. It filled Broadyani with such a flood of passionate regret that he could not hul' his tongue. " Brian, Helen is mad ! If only she knew what she i throwing away. I could go down on my knees to her if : would do any good. Heavens ! why are women, the best > them, such born idiots 1 They think if a man can write quires, infernal rubbish to them, can cram them with poetry, and siir rot, they're going to live in paradise for ever, when, like as n ■ they'll find themselves in the other place." " Gently, old boy, gently," said Brian. " Well, it's true. You must let me speak this once, Bria: I'll choke if it's bunged up any longer. You and I kin Woodgate of old ; we haven't been boyo together for nothiu We know the fellow's other side. Helen doesn't, and we cai. be brutes enough, to tell her, even if there was any chance her taking it in." "Whislit, Guy! you and I had better let Woodgato a-l He is faring badly enough in the Dale just now ! don't let: throw any more stones at him, but hope for the best. Only have made up my mind to this," he added, and his face fluslit while his strong right hand involuntarily clenched. " If Ik- bad to Helen he shall answer for it t me, only — it is i: possible. She must make a good man of him, even if he ut a bad one, which it would be unjust to call him." " Oh, I grant that ! Nobody has ever said he was a 1 liver, or anything of that kind. He's just what my mot! :.' i:,.:! A LOST IDEAL 57 !i : n i I' i f^if^lfn siiys, fiisliionlcss ; but perhaps he may suit Helen better than hvc tliink. 1 confess 1 don't understiind her, and when it comes to tlie hit, r of womanhood, and her occupation was j^'one. She believed that in her new sphere that special faculty would have fullest scope ; meanwhile, she keenly felt for the old man who would miss all that she, and she alone, could give him. For his absolute physical comfort she was not concerned; the maids were tried and trustworthy, bound to the service of the house by many ties ; but she knew that she would be missed at every turn. It made her very tender, very considerate, very watchful in these latt(;r days, and it wrung her heart to see in him a restlessness and irritability he had never before exhibited. She knew that the shadow of the ])arting lay heavy on his soul. She was nnicli sustained by Woodgate's letters, which wciv <'ertainly calculated to fill the heart of any woman with i\v happiest anticipation of the future. Thf^y were masterpieces in their way, wi.se, witty, and serious by turns, and conveying; to her always — by delicate hint rather than dire(;t allusion- his .surpassing need of her presence. ResigniuL,^ herself to the inevitable at last, j\Irs. Gavin Douglas i)roceed»!d to i\o hor duty to her family, and issued invitations for a dinnrr party in honour of the event. At this great function it was desirable, of course, that Richard should be }m'sent, and it was fixed for the twentieth, the night before the wedding. Woodgate wroti that he would be detained in London by press of work until the nineteenth, and could therefore not accept for an eailii date. He was to arrive early on the evenii.g of the nineteentli everything was ready for the wedding, there would be no burn or confusion at the end ; even Helen's trunks, containing al but her gown, were packed, and she was quite ready for he lover when he should come. On that afternoon, a Tuesday, she went out of doors alone, with the unacknowledged desin to take farewell of familiar scenes, and the conviction that slit should not look upon them again for a long time. She took .. long walk. It was a choice winter day, clear, crisp, ami bracing, the frosty ground making pleasant footing, and tlit ;|ri(lg('^ Us liin ibove ■ "OIJ ■; Sh.> tlii'di ihclpi if wi.st IB 1 1 wa "\V - "Kn lie sai( ^ She : te, but, A LOST IDEAL 59 now lying in all IIk; clefts of llic liills I('ii(lin{? vc.riety to the rt'intry scene. The (loud hciifher, hc'iiiiiL,' >' > }»roniis(! of the lory it would ^dvc to the world in jinothcr year, made a soft iiirpet for her feet as slu; skirted the lower slopes of Kuherslaw, );iiisinling out roun»l and shajtely aj^'ainst the transparency of the iky. Wiien her eyes, from roaming over that winter prospect, estcd themselves at len.ifth on the grey spire of Broadrule leliurch and the white j^ahles of the manse, a little sob choked ^n, and she Avas fain to dry from her eyes the unwonted tears. Ill any fair scenes she might yet see, but none fairer or more Ipear than that which her eyes had looked Ui)on for six-and- itAventy yeiirs. Tlic intense frost, which the })rilliant sun had scarcely ollowed, made it possible for her to walk straight as the crow ies across field and wood ; and as she knew where to find all stepping-stones in the burns, there was no obstacle in her ay. ^he was standing poised upon one of these natural id^His which span the noisy little Kule, dreamily watching s limpid tlow, when the click of hoofs on the bridle-path bove made her look suddenly up. 'M)li, is it you, Jlrian?" She lifted her feet daintily, stepped back to the bank, hioli she climbed, Brian leaning from his saddle to give her helping hand. lUit he never spoke. "Won't you speak to me, Brian?" she asked, with a touch wistfulness; but he only swung himself from liis saddle d walked silently by her side. " What are you doing here ? " he asked abruptly. " Enjoying my walk, and saying good-bye to familiar things," '%%. I" Wk :• I I,' I --^■■■pkii^Ulim0tmm 60 // LOST IDEAL HI 31':! 'Hi I |i 11 ' jl III] I ;| 11: s:fl "Surely you are very hui^y just now ; noljody ever sees you. Wliere have you Ix'cii to-day?" " Oh, pottering' about ; there isn't much (h)in<,'." "Then you did not speak truly to Annio when you refused I lier invitation for to-niglit?" said Helen quickly. "We ull| feel your refusal, Brian, very niucli. I most of all." "I can't help that. I had to say something to Mrs. Douglas;] but she knows the reason I won't come, just as you know why] I'm not coming on Thursday." "Then you really are not coming, Brian?" "No; I have something to do, five miles beyond ]>ranksoine,| on Thursday. It'll take me all day." Helen turned her face away, and her firm mouth trembled. { Brian did not look at her. He knew she was vexed, and he was glad of it, because he was suflering so acutely] himself. "We'll not see you in the Dale, then, Helen, for a loni;j time," he saiil presently, switching the withered reeds with hi- crop; "and you'll soon forget all about us." "Do you think so?" Helen asked simply. " But the worst of it for us poor devils is, that we sliaii be able to forget you." He stole a glance at her averted face, but could, not catcii its expression, and so went on probing her sore heart moieP deeply still. "IS^o, that's the worst of it — we shan't be able to forget youl — and I question if you'll ever get anybody to think more oil you, or do half as much for you, as the honest folk in tlie Dale. They haven't got gigantic intellects, maybe, but theiij hearts are in the right place. There's nothing but weepiii.j and wailing, the length and breadth of the parish, to-day,] over Miss Helen's departure. It's a grand thing to be bonnit| and weel liket." " I think you are cruel, Brian, very cruel," cried Heltii passionately; "and you have no right to say such horriblt things to me. What have I done to deserve them] Tell iiin that." Th( He le s1h)u1( "A^ his v( than ] have ( for ni( anoth( Is th.n sweet hypoc: Vllel and 1)1 sliiven " Fc I (lon'l make i I iK'pe Hel unusui "Bi and CO and it whicl from montl say. jit is t concea Brif This V 1 light "I Whd I gceing vev sees yuu. yirs. Douglas; uu know win :hat we slian'tl A LOST IDEAL 61 Then Brian's self-control flow to tlie four winlt his estrangement so much. She felt no excitement at the prospect of seeing Richard, and when she heard the roll of the returning carriage-wheels in the avenue, she went out to the door. She had not changed her attire, as they were to drive out, but still wore the becoming gown of brown homespun in which she had walked out. She coloured up, however, when she saw him alight, a tall figure wearing a fur -lined and trimmed travelling coat, which seemed to give both height and breadth to his some- what slender figure. He threw his arm round her and drew her indoors to the nearest room. "My darling, at last!" he said, with a very real fervour; and, holding back her fair face from him, looked into it earnestly, and kissed it many times. She had never doubted him for a moment, believing implicitly everything he had told her con- cerning the press of work which kept him till the last moment 68 '1 'f mm il» !i . 1 64 A LOST IDEAL i ! lilt 'm:^ Hiin;!^ :iii|iri in Lftiiddii. Slic, w!is al)S(»liit((ly tnitlifiil herself, and never tloiiUted others \iiil(^ss sho liiul al)S(>lute proof. "You arj looking' well, Uehiii, vc^ry woU indeed," ho saiM, with a solicitudu she felt to he very Hwojit. " So it 1ms coiik; at last ; two days more anil we shall ho t().i,'ether. Tell nic you ar(! happy at the prospect." lie did not for a moment douht it, hut wanted the aasnrancf from her lips. "I am not rnhappy, you ran f,'Uosa, Kiehard," she said, Iki hoautifid eyes aj^low ; "hut you — are you sure you will nevci re<,a'et it?" "Yes, I shall, if you do not have more faith in me," lie made liasto to answer f?aily. " Well, dearest, I have ^mI everythin;^ ])rop(!rly wound up. All my work is over, and we shall have nothing' to do Itut enjoy ourselv(!s. AVe shall make strai;^dit for Florence, and not come hack to En<,danil till we can return to summer skies." Helen smiled. Tiie prospect Avas fair. She had the natural d(!sire of an intellij^'tjnt and in(|uiring mind to see tlii' heautit^s of otluu' lands. It seemed to her at that moment that the new life offered much to compensate for anything slir might give up in the old. "And what ahout this dreadful function to-night ?" ho said, presently, as he took off his overcoat. " How many aiv coming to regaril us with curiosity, and me with sus[)icion, all set down under the category of a friendly interest*?" Helen laughed, but shook her finger at him. "IS^ow, Kiehard, that is too had, and you must promise not to ho sarcastic to-night, hut ajjpeir in your most amiable mood. It is not a Jarge party — only a dozen in all." •'A djzen? — name them; or don't — I daresay I can make a guess. And. how is the good Brian ? Has he put a decent face on his disappointment, eh % " Helen coloured, remembering the occurrence of the afternoon. " We had better go down to tea now, Richard. It is six, and we have to bo at Broadyards at half-past seven." " Oh, I sliall be ready, I say, Helen, look here," 'till aftoi "Oil, II wish iinrtheri At tl |the hell h'ini. T igi'Moni s A LOST IDEAL (>S ! assiu'iincc lie took a littlo niororro cjihv. from his porlriii,i,'» 'iinl Hliowod licr it diaiiiond star lying in its vivid and startling' hcauty on its hcd of whiU? velvet. ** Vdii must wear that toiii^dit; it is my we' ■■* iiir Pi!':' ! !;;i;.f IC CHAPTER IX A cloud no hvf<'ev than ca nia.1%; liand." cj r^^l ONEY^rOON trills, as a rule, are devoid of intc- rest to all save those immediately concerned in them ; nobody ' ants a minute aci;ount of tlic ^^^l^t "^vanderings of a newly-married ]iair. Nevertlic- ,C4 less, it is necessary for us to follow AVoodgatc and Htden to Florence, which was tlieir first stopping-place, and which was a revelation of l)eauty and of wonder tn Helen, who liad seen but little beyond her native vale. Slu was well-read and intelligent ; her lively and always correct appreciation of what w%is genuinely beautiful and artistic Ma> in some measure a surprise to her husband, whv enjoyeil seeing the city witli wdiich he was so familiar through her eyes. They took up their abode in one of the best hotels in the Lung'Arno, and there had their own rooms, dining sometimes, fm their a^iusement, at the table d'hote, but mostly in their own dining-room, which was on the second fioor, wich two windows tii the river commanding a view of the lovely San Miniato and the ever-beautiful hills of Fiesole. (Sometimes it grated on Helen's sense of fitness to hear the jingle of the car-bells and the langhtc. of the evening crowMls on the boulevards ; it seemed to her that a city sacredly environed with so many priceless associations shoulil be preserved from every modern element ; an idea at which Wool gate laughed consumedly. He was intensely cosmopolit ui, and a 70 , forrniga — things umlerstai jier ever to conim tliose ear a new lijj ni»t live i was the always oi as he ev was some of all cc natured, scarcely { began to of chang( " Let's over the " Don't } long enoi " I doi ready to ''I lia Paris, in hive nia( wfiy. " "Xot a house ] lost upon " Alre( l)egiimin<| shall do ' H.i 1 by natui attributes A LOST IDF A L 71 lover of his kind, liappior amotif,' crowds tlmii in solitude, pro- ferrnijd, " Vnii will ask li(!r to dine with us, thru? Thank you, niy drar." " Why, of course; ; could I do any less, Kichard, as she. is (!ouiiu^' t(» this hot(d and you aro old friends? What did you oxjuM^t WW to do? " VVoodi^'atc lau,i;h(Ml. " Faith, I don't know ; you frozo nio up, you know, last ni;^dit, when I told you tho Countess's uidiappy stoiy, and I should not have cared to liint ut such u thing us an invitation to dinner." Helen was a trifle hurt, l)ut coiu'caltMl it under a smile. " I shall ^'row wiser hy experience, Kichard. You must not ho too hiird on mo at first." " Heaven forhid that I should ever be liard on you, first or last," ho said, fervently enou^di, for her humility, her wifely anxiety to please, touched Inm to the heart. Althouj^h he would not have acknovvledgyd it, he felt se.;rctly a <,'reat deal more nervous over the niee;inL' of the^^e two women than lEelon couhl jiossibly be, she having the advantnge of uncon- sciousness. "Now, what shall we do to-day ? Ferrara, as we had arranged ? " "Oh, I think not; it might make a pleasant outing for the Countess when she is liere." " It is all old ground to her, Helen, as you can understand wlum I tell you that she has wintered in Florence or Rome every year since she left Keutensoe." "And the other part of the year?" said Helen inquiringly. " Has she a home in Lonchjn ? " "Yes; in Park Lane." " In Park Lane 1 Is she then very rich ? " " Keutensee allows her handsomely. She has always said he is not mean with his money. I suppose she is comfortably off; there is every evidence of it." Helen gave an involuntary sigh. "Do yon think," she asked, a tritlo wistfully, "that she ■ilfi A LOST I HEAL 79 will (S'lro to talk to incl f ;mi not luiiiiant, Richard. T^'rluips site will (It'spiso inc." "She won't. Tlicro is ono ([Uiility yon ])os day as yon like. And will you speak ahout the Countess's rooms, and tell them she; wl'l join our tahle whi'-^ slie is here*?" ** J shall. It is almost like entertaining' visit(»rs, yet with no house. How otld ! " said Helen hri^ditly, feeding' as if she had a new interest in life. All day Woo(l<.;ate was not himscdf, an " Comn in," calloil out u clear, ringing, slightly imperious voice, and immediately there was a swift st(?p across tlie floor and the door was quickly opened. For an instant those two women, whose destinies were to ho so strangely intermingled, regarded each other with a critical, questioning air. " I am Mrs. Woodgate," said Helen, with her quiet, gracious dignity, which she had never shown to greater advantage. " And I come to hid you welcome, and to inquire wliether you find everything as you desire it ? " "You are Mrs. Woodgate?" repeated the Countess slowly, and her eyes never for a moment left Helen's face. " Oh, pray come in. I am not quite dressed ; you see, 1 never bring a maid with me abroad, it completely demoralises them, and when one has to unpack, it takes a little time." " Let me help you," said Helen, with a rare, sweet smile, whi h made the Countess regard her attentively again, and in complete silence. " You are very good. I have taken out the gown I want ; the others can wait till I have time to attend to them," slie said, and, with a curious expression on her face, she returned to the dressing-tal)le. " ^Von't you sit down ? " " I should much rather liang up your dresses in the wardrobe, if you will allow me," said Helen pleasantly. "Very well, thank you, you may." Helen turned to the large dress-basket, which, stan ling open, revea- ' its wealth of silks and laces, and the Countess continued her hairdressing in a carious silence not common to her. There could be no doubt about her beauty, whi(di of its kind — fair skin and bright gold hair — was perfect. She wore a white loose dressing-gown, which concealed, but did not hide, the extreme grace of her ligure. Helen admired her exceed- ingly, but wondered a little at her silence. " INIr. Woodgate met you. I suppose ? " she said inquiringly, OS she hung up the last gown and closed the door of the wardrobe. A LOST WEAL 8i (( Xo, he (lid not," replied tlie Countess, taking up her hand mirror to survey the shining coils of her hair. "Nor did I expect it. I am used to arriving and departing unattended. It has its advantages, I do assure you." " Yes," said Helen. " I am surprised that Richard did not meet you ; I was certain ho had gone for the purpose." " 1 have not seen him, I assure you. Is this your first visit to Florence ? " a " Yes. I have never been out of Scotland before," replied Helen simply. " Xe\ er been out of Scotland before ? " repeated the Countess, with a slight inexplicable smile. " I envy you, for you will not be a stranger to new sensations. Been married a month, liaven't you % " "Yes ; a month to-morrow." "Well, you have married a very clever man, ^Irs. AYoodgate, and I know of a score of women who owe you a grudge for it. He has stolen a march upon us all." " Did he not even tell you, who are so old and valued a friend." The Countess was fastening the waistband of her daintv lilac silk gown. She threw up her head suddenly and looked at Helen with keen inquiry. " Xow, what has he said to her, I wonder ? " she said to herself. " How much, or how little does she know ? " " My dear," she observed aloud, " my first knov/ledge of the aifair was seeing the announcement of it in the Times a fortnight old at Genoa. The same paper said you were here in this very hotel, so I came out of my way to have a look at you." Helen blushed slightly. The woman puzzled her. The familiarity of her speech, the candour of her words, while they did not exactly offend, certainly " exercised " her, as they say in the Dale. " We are very glad to see you , my husband is, I know, and I, to make the acquaintance of the friend he values so highly," Bhe said sincerely, 8 tt I r mM > S 1' 82 A LOST IDEAL n -I ..it Her words had a curious effect on Hilda von Reutensee, Her face became crimson, and a visible tremble was on her lips. "You are very kind — you are truthful, sincere. I thank you. I trust I may be worthy of your kind thoughts of me." That was sufficient to touch Helen to the quick. How mar- vellous that so distinguished a woman should use such words to her ! She accepted them as a proof that great souls are ever humble in their estimate of self. " You are not in the least like my expectation of you," said the Countess presently, as she put the last touches to her elegant toilet. "We talked of new sensations a minute ago — you have given mc one." Helen laughed, a musical, happy laugh, feeling herself more at home with her new friend than she had yet done. " You have given me one also. I have never met any one like you." "What do you mean % I should like an explanation of those words. In what way am I different from other people ? " *' You are much more beautiful, for one thing. I am quite sure I have never seen anyone so beautiful as you in my whole life." " Oh, Mrs. Woodgate, you give me another new sensation ! Do you know, in the world I live in, there is not a woman who would say such a thing to me. Y'ou are as refreshing as the morning dew." " I am but saying what I think. Why should I not say it, if it does not give you offence % " " I ought to pay you as sweet a compliment in return, but I will not to-day, though I have it in my heart. I am quite ready now. You have asked me to dine with you, I understand, and I have never even thanked you for it." " Why should you 1 Shall wo go now ? I hope and expect my husband will be waiting for us in the saloon. I cannot understand yet why he did not go to meet you. He must have missed you in the crowd. Yes, I am sure that is the explana- Ljon » She led the way from the room, the Countess followin A LOST IDEAL 83 ailiuiring tho poise of her dark head, the straight, lissome lines of her figure, the grace of her carriage. She was a beautiful woman herself, and possessed of a fair share of personal vanity, but she was generous in her appreciation of beauty in others. 8I1C admired Woodgate's wife ; and those few minutes had shown to her that the attractive casket held a pure, bright, womanly soul. Woodgate awaited them in the saloon, looking animated, but a trifle disturbed. No such consciousness troubled the Countess, who possessed the consummate tact of a very clever woman. " Your wife and I have already made acquaintance, Mr. Woodgate," she said, with a smile which might be calhid purely conventional ; " and I congratuiute you, thousand times." Helen took her place at the table, beaming upon them. The ordeal was over : she had met Richard's greatest friend, and found her wholly charming ; she now prepared herself for a delightful hour. Siie was ready and willing to sit silent, so that she might listen to the talk of these two, who were such old friends and understood each other so well. Woodgate, relieved of the momentary awkwardness, began to talk in a strain which astonished his wife. It was of people and things of which she of course knew nothing, and it seemed to her tliat he had become another man. The Countess did not say very much, a word or sentence now and again, perhaps only an appreciative smile, which was enough to stimulate the current of his thought. Once or twice, feeling how completely Helen was left out, she turned to her gently, and tried to engage her in conversation. But Woodgate, carried away by a fascinntion old yet ever new to him, seemed impatient of it, and once when the Countess ignored him completely to speok to Helen, he said rather quickly — " I am sure Helen does not mind. Do you, Helen 1 You know I have told you how the Countess understands all my work. Tust let me tell you this, and then I will be silent the rest of the evening, if you like." Then he went on again, speaking for the first time in Helen's 84 A LOST WEAL hearing of his c.^nteniplateJ new work, laying it before Hilda von Reiitensee in very minute detail. It was impossible that the wife to whom such things were sacred, and who had prayed that she might be made worthy to share all his aspirations, should not feel the distinction made. It cut her to the heart, hut she kept her face calm and brave, and even smiled with eyes Avhich had a cloud of tears behind them. CHAPTER XT Is there no debt to ]):iy, No boon to grant? " ,HE cleruTiiian of the Scotch church called at thr hotel at nine o'clock, asking to s-dc Mrs. Wood- gate. She wont downstairs to the rooji where he waited, leaving her husband and their gurnt together. It was an opportunity hoth desired. Hilda von Reutensee had several questions to ask ; questions she could not give utterance to in the wife's proseuct. When the door closed upon them, she leaned back in her chair and regarded him with a curious mixture of wonder and inquiry. " I want to know, Richard, why you have married your wife," she said ; " can it be possible that you care for her 1 If so, I have more hope of you than I have had for many a day." It was an odd way to put it. He looked at her intently, thinking she looked ten times more charming than ever. He had loved her for years, and no other woman could influence him as she had done and did. She could play upon his nature as skilfully as her fingers could play upon the harp strings He had amused and interested her; she had even allowed him to make love to her after a certain harmless fashion, and she had wondered a little over his marriage, feeling it perhaps slightly as a disappointment. But she was perfectly heart- whole where he was concerned, and, in spite of her many coquetries, at heart a pure and good w^oman. 85 86 /J LOST' IDEAL 1; %:m I i :. \ " Faith, you ask what I can hardly answer," he replied evasively. " What do you think of her ? " " I do not yet understand how you liave won such a woman," she said, mistaking his avoidance of the question. " Those eyes of hers are made to see through shams. She will see througli you yet, Richard." He laughed a trifle bitterly. "You are as complimentary as ever, IIil(ia," he said. "In other words, you regard me as a sham — is that it?" " You imagine yourself to he a great man, which you are not," she replied calmly, " and never will be until you arc first humbled witli yourself. It is old ground, Richard ; we need not go OV'T it again; but I say again, with such a woman by your side, there is more hope for you than I imagined, iShe will stimulale you to the highest endeavour, and mo.ke you ashamed of the idleness your friends have long deplored. '' " You think very Iiighly of her," he said, secretly flattered — as men are to hear praise of their wives, which, of course, reflects credit on their own wisdom in selection. " I do. She is a woman ,'^orth cultivating. I have known you a long time, Richard, and I am privileged to be candid. I have only known your wife one hour, but while listening to your nonsense I have been watching her. She is not ordinary or commonplace. Be carefui how you deal with her." "I wish you would explain yourself," he eaid, a trifle im- patiently. "I think her quite ordinary, and hor views of life are puritanical in the extreme, which, of course, is inevitable, considering what her (:".vironment has been for six-and-twenty years." "That is her age, is it? She looks it. I hardly expected that you would understand hei, and T cannot comprehend, as I said, how you vvon her. As to her views, they will expand, but the process will hurt her. I trust I may be fortunato enough to win ar;d keep her friendship." He looked al her in amazement, scarcely crediting what he heard. He had dreaded Hilda von Reutensee's verdict on hi^^ wife, and he could not understand the impression made. That I -•'! A LOST IDEAL «7 the Countess was sincere he knew lier too Avell to douht. Slie was one of the most candid and outspoken of living women, and she had never spared him. She was very clever, and she had been trained in a hard school, which had done something to take the edge off her womanliness. She had a large acquaint- ance among literary peo])le, and wheu AVoodgatc was first introduced to her by a journalistic friend, she had become deeply interested in his career. It was then full of promise, which had as yet not been fulfilled. Sometimes she feared he had reached the zenith of his powers, the period of idle dalliance had been so mucli prolonged. " I am sure Helen would be flattered if she knew the im- pression she has made on you," he said, a trifle drily. " I don't believe she would. She is a woman to whom s(df is not specially interesting, and she is a fine foil to you. One piece of advice to you, Eichard, before she returns. She loves you ; do not starve that love. Don't disillusion unless you cannot help it, and try to be worthy of her." She rose with the air of a woman who had said the last word, and, moving to the window, made some trivial reniarks al)Out the oeauty of the night. Presently they heard Helen's feet on the corridor ; then she turned to him. " Henceforth I am Countess to you, ]\Ir. Woodgate. Please do not forget." It was her first act of absolute loyalty to the woman she had known for one hour, but whose friendship she already desired as something worth the winning. It said much for Helen, because the Countess was not one of those molluscs who fasten on evet^ new-comer, oflcring vows of eternal devotion. On the contrary, among women her friends were few. Helen entered the room, smiling, unconscious, animated. '• Oh, Richard, I have had such a pleasant talk with Mr. ^lartin. He knew papa at college, and has been to Broadrule. He says he remembers me a little girl, and thinks he also saw you. I asked him to come up, but he says he will call again. I hope I am excused. Countess, leaving you so long alone." The Countess smiled and shook her head, but said nothing 88 W LOST J DEAL m r\\ Her heart was too much touched for speech. There was soiuo- thing at once so childlike aj\d trusting alxjiit Woodgato's wife, that the woman of tlie world, who had proved to tlie utmost its liypocrisy and its cruelty, felt a great compassion in her soul. Woodgate, feeling tliat in tluiir present mood conversation was not likely to move freely, asked permission to smoke his cigar outside, thus giving Hilda von Rcutensee another opportunity she desired. She sat down near to Helen, looking at her in- tently, her own face wearing a look of indescrihahh; tenderness, which fasc' ited the woman who had called it forth. " Will you tell me," she said gently, " what your husband has said to you about me ? " " He did not oay very mucl;,'' replied Helen, in some surprise. " Only yestcrdiiy, when your letter came, he told me you were his friend, and that you had hel})ed him greatly in his work. Also," she added, with a faint flush and slight hesitation, something of your sad history : that was all." *' I am not so much to be commiserated," replied the Countess lightly, " since my husband leaves me in peace." " But," said Helen, still reluctantly, " you are parted from your little son, Can anything compensate for thatl" " I do not permit .Myself to dwell on it ; and the child is vei y well off where he is, with his grandaunt. She's very Kind to him, and is good enough not to bring him up to hate his mother." "Your husband's kinswoman?" said Helen inquiringly. " Yes ; my own mother is dead, 1 do not remember lier. Had she lived, I should not be as I am. It is a very remote place where my little Gustav has to dwell, but good for the child. Heavens ! what a place that God-forgotten Sehloss is ! and yet people live long lives there, and appear to be content. Perhaps they are better off than such as we." "You are on your way there now, my husband tells me." "I am, but I do not hurry, till the snow is off the groand." " And is your husband there ? Excuse these many questions ; it is because I am so interested." "Don't apologise; I like to answ- ? 'aem, because, odd as it A LOST IDEAL 89 ma}' seoni, I should liko you to uiidcrstand luo. No, T.udwig von Kt'utiMiscL' is iioi, at tlie Schloss, (dse tlicrc wouM rcMjuiro to be anotlier arranj^'ciiieut uuidc for (lUstav and 1 to meet. It is too i-'low a ])lace altooether for liini. I expect he is in Paris now. Tin; Scldoss seUhDin sees him, — a luontli, jjerhaps, in autumn, when there is anything to shoot, — and tliey are all glad when he goes away." "Except the old lady, who, perhaps, regards him as a son?" .•^ULTtrested Helen. "She doesn't; she can't endure him. It is the only })oint on which we are agreed — detestation of Graf Linhvig. You see, ht; reminds her of her own hroken hopes. She had a sjilciulid husliand, who was killed gloriously, as they call it, at (Jiave- lotto, and one son, Waldemar, who fell ignonnniously in a duel about some peasant girl. It nearly killed his mother. Properly speidving, she ought to have retired from Reutensee to her own home in Thuringia, but she adores the place, and Ludwig, who has some bowels of compassion in him, allows her to remain, aiul she repays him by looking after Gustav, and training him in the way he should go." " If he had such bowels of compassion as you speak of, he would give the boy to you," said Helen hotly. " Ah ! but he must punish me somehow for my desertion, and he chooses that way because I feel it most." "Why did you desert him?" asked Helen inA»oluntarily. "Because I could not live with him : he was too thoroughlv 1)11(1. Consider, I was married to liim at seventeen ; forced into it hy my aunt, who reared me, and had but one desire — to get rid of me. I bore it as long as I could, and because I had some shreds of self-respect left, I left him at last, ten years ago," "And you now live in London?" " I have a home there ; a little house in Park Lane, 1 made Ludwig buy for me. He is not stingy with money, I will say that for him ; he has some of the instincts of a gentleman left." "He cannot be wholly bad, since he is so generous to you," said Helen, thinking the man to be pitied who had so charming a wife who declined to live with him. 90 A LOST IDEAL "He is not totally l)ail ; ho has his good qualities, liko tlio best and worst of us, but the had is such as no self-resj)ectiii;^' woman could tohirate. Oh, T thought it well over, I assure you, before I made my (le(;ision, because I knew very well what it involved for me ; and I have never regretted it." Helen remained silent ; a great wonder of tliought awakeneil in her mind. Suddenly the Countess changed the subject. "Will you tell nie frankly, Mrs. Woodgate, what is your opinion of your huslumd's work 1 " Helen flushed all over. It was a delicate, almost a sacred subject in her eyes. " I am his wife," she answered simply. "I can have but one opinion regarding it." The faint(!st shadow of an amused smile flickered momentarily on the Countess's fair face, bat immediately passed, leaving it grave as before. " Only a very young man could have written that last book of his, ]jut it had the true ring. Five years have passed since it ap[)eared, ami no successor is forthcoming. Has he given us, do you think, all that is in him 1 " The flush on Helen's face deepened, but the Countess con- tinued, never seeing that her listener was fiercely resenting every word she uttered. "H he ever writes another book, it will be something so entirely different that men will not know it to be by the same hand." " Why do you say if he writes another book ? You heard what he said to you to-niglit," cried Helen hotly. *' I have heard all that before," replied the Countess calmly. "My dear, you must rouse him from this indolence and self- complacency, which is killing his soul. It is a pity — I have said it a hundred times — that he has any money, that he has not to earn his bread." " I do not believe that," said Helen quickly. " I have heard him say that sordid care eats the heart out of a man, and grinds his aspirations to the dust." "It is not true, and very well he knows it. Genius has ever risen to its highest heights out of desperate straits. Suffering A LOST IDEAL 9' is its Tiiij)tisni of fin', lie will iu'vcr suHcr, Ikcuuso h«' will not nlldW himself to sutfcr. Ho dn-ails it." " IJow (laro you sjx'ak so to iiif of my liushaiul ? " crit'd Ilcli'ii, r4iin.L,' boyond cndnrancc. Hilda von Rtnitensuo loaned forward slifjhtly and laid lier hands, with a touch of infinites ^'ontleness, on Hel n's kneo. " Hush, ehild ! I am yctur true friend, and his." "Do not call nn^ child ; lam older than you," said Helen, still with some of the ))etulance of a <'hild. "No; I am thirty-oni;. Hesides, 1 have had a loiif,', hard exjtericMu^o of life. You are only he^finnin*,' it. When you C(»nio to London, 1 sliall show you one 1 have in my mind's eycj at this moment; a pour hoy, to whom circumstances have been relentless, hut who is slowly conquering them all. He comes to me sometimes, finding in me something which inspires his confidence, though Heaven knows I am hut litth; worthy ; and I help him with words and symi)athy always, and sometimes with iii(iii(»y, though not often, because the tight will make him strong." Helen's resentment vanished, and her face shone. " 1 was rude to you a moment ago; ])ray forgive me. You are very good; you must be, to do such things." "Oh no. It pleases me to think that some portion of Ludwig von Reutensee's money should be not nnworthily spent. Just let me say what I wish to say about your husband, for tlie first and last time. You are a noble and good woman ; that I know from your face ; but in some respects I am wiser than you, with the wisdom born of experience of the. world. Wood- gate has a great gift, which he is sinfully neglecting, he is so indolent." She continued, in her voice of relentless calm, " I have long told him that if the divine S{)ark had lied from him for ever, he had deserved it well. His future now rests with you. Y^ou must be very wise, so wise that for any one but you I should say it was impossible. Y^ou must not pamper and worship and spoil him, as half the men who might achieve something are spoiled by the women who love them. Forgive my plain speech ; when you know me better, perhaps you will not resent it, as you must now." m %L ^ .^^> IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 1.1 1.25 ■30 i 12.5 u, m 12.2 MUu 1.4 ill.6 6" PhotDgraphic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 ,),' 92 A LOST IDEAL '•I ilon't," saitl ITden ; "Imt you IxnviMer and sadden mo, jiiid find I tliink tlicrc is truth in wliatyou say. 1 1 lid., von Koutensw; j,'uossed wliat it cost Helen to make, t'nat admission, l)ut she niaih; no comment upon it. " I tliink 1 shall go to bed. Will you make my apologies to your husband, please? We shall meet to-morrow." She stood straiglit in front of Helen and held out her hand, witli a look of winning api)eal, "J have never met anyl)ody in the least like you," she said hurriedly. "I do not pray mucli, only that my son may not grow uj) like his father; but I will pray to-night for your friendship. Good-niglit ! " Helen was not quick to respond, because the woman suri)ris(Ml and jnizzled her on every hand. While she still waited, slow, like all of the northern clime, to respond to any unexpecte(l demonstration of feeling, the Countess glideti away and left her alono. " 1; ii; CHAPTER XII "Whate'cr hvVuk, To thee I will be true." \\\m- OW long arc you goin^j to rcnmin at Rputonsoo?" id' asked AVoodgate, as tliey bi-i'iiklasted logctluT next morning. " I am promised a month. Do you not re- member ? " said the Countess. " And when are you going 1 " "Soon, I think. The old lady writes that thoy have sjtring already, and that the flowers are coming up. I was once there in March, and the cold was intense. Often they have a mild February, so I think I shall go straight on." " And at the end of the month, what then 1 " The Countess shi-ugged her shoulders. "I don't know. I do not make many plans now, Mr. Woodgate," she said, turning to Helen, who looked her best in the clear morning liglit, as most healthy persons do. She wore a tailnr-gown o( light grey tweed, faultless linen, and no jewellery. The Countess was all rutUcs and lace, as becoming as the set simplicity of Helen's attire was to her. " We must plan a little," rejdied Helen, with a smile. " I wish I knew where we were going, and when we are likely to have a home." "My wife has not acquired the vagabond habit yet," said Woodgate, with a smile, " She thinks hap|)mess is bounde-d 9\ A LOST IDEAL II I ! by tlio four Wiills of a Imuse, wlicic tlicy too ofton only shut, it out." "Don't say that, Riolianl ; you know you