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Laa diagrammaa suivants llluatrant la mdthodo. 1 2 3 4 5 6 MICaoCOTY tnoiUTION TKT CNAtT (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. J) ^ APPLIED INA^IGE inc '653 East Main Street Rochester Ne. York 1 4609 USA ('16) 482 - 0300 -Phon, (716) -■» - 5989 - Fo. AWS. " as KUUNE fiimiiii,. (A?,!'i;j:- iri)N"M)i„.!'(xrE *^ • r^- m THE CAREER OF MRS. OSBOKNE '"4 ■But ,t -a„s Ian />,>irn :J,o could not speak. : i The Career of Mrs. Osborne BV CARLETON-MILECETE AUTHOR OF "Misa Vandeleuh, Pirate" ILLUSTRATED BY BAYARD JONES 1903 The Smart Set Publishing Co. NEW yORK LONDON COPYRIOHTBD 1901, b ]r ESS ESS PUBLISHINQ CO. COPYRIGHTED 1903, by THE SMART SET PUBLISHING CO. First Printing Stft. I PREFACE. Thi principal business of a preface is, the present writers have always believed, to make some explanation of, or to offer some apology for, ^he work that follows. But the pages of this book need no explanation, as the reader may soon discover for himself; and we have no intention to apologize if, perchance, we succeed in bringing a smile to the lips of one who is so venturesome as to delve into this little com- edy. This brief foreword, then, has lost sight of its chief object. We can only wish that some one may find the pleasure in reading rf Mrs. Osborne that we experienced in writi,,,. . her. «S»\*A4,>,k,„,.^ ' « • *. CONTENTS CHAPTER I. A Background II. The Curious Wiltons III. The Comedy Begins IV. A Dead Lion . V. A Breath of Liberty . VI. The Troubles of a Flat - VII. The New Beauty . VIII. A Family Party IX. Mistaken Identity Again X. Two social Favorites XL A Threatened Eviction XIL The Palace XIII, A Pair of Buccaneers - XIV. Explanations - . . . XV. The Lion Unmasks XVT. The Passing of the Osbornes - XVII. The Background Scores PAGR »5 30 38 45 51 61 81 94 109 I20 141 »56 167 186 199 -*. •. V. ■* •» • .\ . * *•»— ,^^ „, ~ »"«-»* LIST OP ILLUSTRATIONS •'But it was Van Ingen who could not speak." .... Prontisficcb ^^i •* Lady Jane was at home.' Page 41 ••He rushed Mr. Hopkins to the window." .... p^o, 65 "And she had laughed. Paoi loa '^m Hatt* thw. Nymph. •»»«* bring w«ih xttm Jr%t. And youthful JoUlty, Quipt, Mul CrMikt. siul wMitnn W1«U. No.»t. and Beck», »nil wtmUiM baulm; Svich M hmau "n H jb««» ehetk, And lova to Uva in dirmJa tlMk; Sport th«t wrinkled C»r« dartdti. And Uuflhtai holding both hi* #dtf . MUum-" LAUtgro.' I ■ i If ' 1 s Porwtrd And froH* (l«t wm tli«f«. Tht wtll to 4e. ilw MHil to (l«r» " Udy ol tbt '^*k*. \i The Career of Mrs. Osborne CHAPTER I A BACKGiOUND When Captain George Wilton of the Royal Irish Fusiliers, only son of Colonel and Mrs. Wilton of The Cedars, Elmhurst, Berkshire, married an American, his mother fainted. When, two years after, he sent his wife and lier sister home from India to reside undrr the parental rooftree until his return, she fainted no more. Instead, a fine light of battle rose in her small brown eyes with the ..dvent of the two daughters of Heth. They should be shown what it meant to brave an outraged English mother in her own drawing-room. And shown they were throughout an English Winter, with kind advice and otlwr things that «5 ZJ^t Career of fiusi. €)0bome ( I ■ 1 1 i left them calm as glass, till one night in April, when Mrs. George Wilton by the light of one composition candle read and re-read a para- graph in Fanity Fair. It was a small thing to rouse the spirit of the Declaration of Independence in a woman who had married because she was asked to marry, and had borne tacitly with the rule of a mother-in-law because she was asked to bear with it ; but rouse that spirit it did. Jane Eger- ton had married with a Background, a gor- geous tapestry of life with one figure in it. Even on her wedding day her husband had been as a faint etching hung on the splendid color, the too bold lines of that never forgot- ten Background. And here — the paper shook in her shaking hand — the Backgrouihl was alive again; was "become a multi-millionaire by the tragic death of his unmarried uncle in the ill-fated S. S. City of Perth; had taken a house in Grosvenor Crescent and would enter- tain largely during the season." The new millionaire was but thirty-three and un- married. " Miles," said Mrs. George Wilton to her- i6 dii iiS m^t €axm of savii. €)isbonte self, " Miles in London! And I'm here, dead and buried — and married to a Wilton ! " She wished wildly that she had married a duke or a Vanderbilt, to be able to meet Miles Van Ingen and tell him so. She remembered the last time she had seen him. It was at church, the evening service. She could see now that country choir, the ghostly purples and pinks of the east window against the dying light outside. It was a queer way to remember Van Ingen, but it was true ; just as the walk home afterward was true, and the good-bye under the big hornbeam by the gate he had been forbidden to enter. He had had no money, no more had she — of course it had been good-bye; he was not the sort of man to ask a girl to marry him and exist in a two-by-four house in Brooklyn. But there was money now, hers as well as his; and — her thoughts crowded so that she could not think. Her eyes fell on a paragraph below the one she had been reading. Mrs. George Wilton clutched the paper tight to a leaping heart, stared at her own face in the glass and turned from absolutely white to scar- 2 17 ii €lfte Career of fiivsL fDsOmnt let, and back again. With shoeless feet she stole along the corridor to the door of her sis- ter's bedroom and closed it behind her with elaborate caution. "Is the oil stove lit?" she demanded. "Thank heaven!" Rut she stretched her chilled hands over the hot brass without grat- itude. Sarah groaned. " I've spoiled my best dressing gown trying to abate the smell," .she said. " Does it smell — much— oilside?" " Not at all." Jane had been conscious of paraffin yards down the passage, but why say so? Were not the Wilton family all in bed in woolen nightgowns, and safe till morning? Let it smell. She disposed herself as near the stove as iwssible. while a polite clock somewhere rang half-past twelve. Everything was genteel in the house of her mother-in-law except her father-in-law, and he was unspeakable. An old Indian who does not smoke and never con- trols his temper usually is. Colonel Wilton • nanaged his family and his house with a pre- cision as dull as a Scotch story. The days i8 ■■sm C^e Career of fMi* €)jeil)ome at The Cedars rolled by in heavy state, punctu- ated neatly with meals and finished elegantly at ten o'clock with the full stop of prayers. The object in life of Colonel and Mrs. Wil- ton was to marry their daughters. They said so in unadorned phrases to their daughter-in- law and her sister. The two girls themselves spoke of possible matches with smug smiles. The smooth garden, the neat fields, the solemn dinners and the weary evenings all seemed sat- urated with matchmaking to the two American visitors, to whom marriage had never been pointed out as The Only Career of Women. The two Misses Wilton were considered by their parents to be " on approval," but the sup- posed approvers had said nothing — they were merely constant in coming to tea. It had struck none of the Wiltons that the appearance of these male lights on the horizon was coeval with the arrival of Mr^ George Wilton and her sister Miss Egerton. Life at The Cedars did not sharpt.i the wits. No one ever did anything there but eat, drink and gos- sip. A letter was an event — to be inquired into. Heavy puddings at luncheon were followed by 19 Zjt career of fiitfL ^lOmnt heavier ones at dinner. There were no duties, no diversions ; and Jane and Sarah had endured existence there for months. Their Colonial blood ran thin in the damp of a cold April, when they were not allowed fires because the label of the month was Spring. In boredom and a raging east wind their noses grew red and chilly, till Sarah in desperation had in- vested in her contraband oil stove. But Jane was oblivious of it now, even while she sat by It and thawed. "Sarah," she said, sharply, "are you happy ? " Sarah stared at her. "Happy! After this afternoon? When Mr. O'Hara ca ne in with his cheerful smile and his red-gold hair—" warming to her sub- ject in the malodorous cheer of her cherished stove and regardless of a certain look on her sister's face—" and mamma-in-Iaw prepared to annex him, then it was that he sat down by me. Think of my daring to appropriate Amelia's lawful prey ! Mamma-in-law could have killed me. No wonder she gave us boiled veal for dinner. For you were no better. She intended 20 C^e Career of fML f&fOmnt Mr. Hopkins for Evelyn, and it was you by whom he seated himself, while his looks— oh, if his looks had only been turned on Amelia! But a married woman has no right to looks from a young man." "As if I did not hear that every day!" Jane's voice was dryly indifferent, her frown contemptuous. " And what do I want of a Hopkins?" Sarah shrugged her shoulders. " He and Mr. O'Hara are all we've had to keep us alive," she said. *' Not that they're much pleasure to me. I hate talking to a man when I am surrounded by females with their mouths open like young robins. But we'd have looked well at that ball without them ! " For Colonel Wilton had taken his two daughters, his daughter-in-law and her sister to the Hunt Ball in haste ; and had repented at leisure. Jane and Sarah had danced all night with the men who should have been dancing with Evelyn and AmeUa. The atmos^^here at The Cedars had been thunderous since that ball. Amelia had flashed sheet lightning to the effect 21 €5e Career of fsitn ^fOmnt that married women should never go to balls; they were sold, and no longer " on approval."' Mrs. Wilton's lightning was the forked form of regretting the exploring and annexing and marrymg tendency of young and unprotected Englishmen in wild regions, such as America. The insult to her beloved country stung Sarah now. " I wish we were in New York." she said, viciously, getting up and beginning to brush her waving hair. " But as we're here I sup- pose we may as well go to bed. There is noth- ing to get up for to-morrow, but if we don't sleep we shall look even worse than wc do. Your nose was bright red to-day when the drawing-room was so cold." Sarah was vilely truthful. But truth was what Jane had come for. She stood up in her white dressing gown, her throat rising very straight and round out of its lace and chiffon, her eyes hard, her young shoulders held superbly. " Sarah," she said, " look at me— look hard. Do you think I'm good-looking? I don't mean pretty, I mean— more." 22 Zl^t career of ffixn* i)0bonte Sarah's brush waved in mid-air. " I always said you were a fool to throw yourself away on George, even if it was while we were poor," she said, with the composure of contempt. " You know you're lovely ; you always were, even at fifteen. Why do you want me to tell you so ? " She looked clear-eyed at Jane as she spoke, at her chestnut-brown hair, her brown eyes, her exquisite azalea-colored cheeks ; saw, as the world saw when Jane Wil- ton passed by, her grace, her carriage, her air that was half princess and half child. " Much good it has done you to be beautiful," she added, huskily, though she liked George. Per- haps she knew too well why Jane had married him. But Jane's eyes only brightened. " That's all I wanted to know," she re- turned, coolly, and sat down. " No woman's beautiful for nothing — when she knows it. It's going to do this much good, it will get us away from here. You said there was nothing to get up for, and no joy in life — but there shall be." She threw back her head with confidence, as became a woman who had always been 23 I rS^^ **"' " ■" ♦ ^^'--m^^ '^f etc €mn of jutji g>rtorn e lovely. " Wc will go away from here. We will take a flat in London." " Take a flat ! " with an incredulous glare. Take a flat," firmly, " in London. Wc will live by ourselves, do everything, go every- where." She swept her hand comprehensively round the horizon. " We can't," said Sarah, crushingly. " You know they'd never let us go." "Look here; did you ever read 'Uncle Remus'."" Sarah nodded. " Well, when he was just driven to desper- ation he ' lammed aloose,' and so shall I We might know plenty of nice people in England. We 11 never see any here." "Men." Sarah's tone was soft and thought- ful. * " Well, men. if you like," unabashed. " But people, not monsters. Anyhow, we are going up to town next week to take a flat near a woman who's a relation of ours, quite a grand person and a beauty." Sarah gasped. 24 CQe Career of fUtiL tf>iaome ! "What's her name?" ihe demanded. " Whom do you mean ? *' "Jane Oiborne," with lofty calm. Miss Egerton sat paralyzed. When she tpoke it was in an awestruck whisper. •• But she •• " Yes, I know," stolidly. " But the Wiltons don't. And I sha'n't tell them much about her. I don't want them to hunt her down ana spend all their waking hours calling on her when they go up 10 town." " But she can't be in London; she " '* She can, just as well as we can. Are you an idiot, Sarah? Don't you remember New- port ? She was useful enough there." Sarah bounced in her chair. " For two days," she said, solemnly. " And this isn't Newport. And do you imagine you can choke the Wiltons olT her — let alone any- one else ? " " I can — just because this isn't Newport. London's a big place ; they won't move in Mrs. Osborne's set. They'll never see her." Sarah broke into wild laughter. "A beauty I" she gasped. "Oh, I'm not 25 U.lm^„l ,l„„l< „ j„„j. J,,,, , ^^^.^ ^^ •• V...I will by-and-byc. Do,,', you «, «.. nnist have somm^n*? i- ^"" »cc we H . ■""" """■ ' »'•»" have a "7 ''•""''' »■« »'V here? These people are «"..„,. .„„, a, , hey dare ,„ be, Pra' .h^ " «> 'h« we re goinR, ami that we've a cous,,,, Mr,. Ostorne, ,„ ,...|,e „, „„ J/ J «.nr Theyl|bcfr,gh.e„edofher,too C„m "AndlVV" •■■ '"" ""n?" breathlessly. ^ And why do you wan. her to come .0 Lo„. "Because she', a period," darkly, "and you II know soon enough why,,, J; her™ you don't now." ' "SowilIGeorgc."dryIy.",vhen he arrives 26 «5e career of f^ns. oiOiame from India and find* us in town instead of under his paternal roor" Jane's face went white with passion. " Let George alone. I'm tired of this ctcr- nal George a long time since they have worn their baby ahoea. A new beauty, real and undeniable, and tranMtlantic for choice, would have the ball at her feet this year. TranaatUntic, 1 say, because we all know how fvw qupfitioDA are asked about Besuty Yiacked by Dollars and untrammeled by the ' Almanach de Cotha." " Mrs. Osborne! " said Sarah, in an eldritch whisper. " Goodness gracious me ! " 39 CHAPTER n THE CURIOUS WILTONS Sarah sat surrounded by Wiltons in a room that was stufify in spite of being chilly. She was ostentatiously doing needlework, but she wore her best manner nervously, for Jane had gone to town the day before, and the atmos- phere of The Cedars was straining to the nerves when taken undiluted. "I wonder how Jane's toothache is?" she remarked, tentatively. " I think I will go down to the village and send her a wire." Mrs. Wilton turned from her writing table with smooth disapproval. " Oh, why go out? The roads are so damp after last night's storm." " Storm ? Oh, but there wasn't any storm," with wide eyes. " There was heavy rain," decidedly. " But if you think it necessary to telegraph," with 30 Clfte Career of fikx%. o^bome emphasis— wire was a vulgar term, even com- mercial—'* I V,.. , nn „p this form for you, and James can ikc it to Hit ' illage." "I shoui , [uiamnt ii she really ask us ? It is-" in a tone of concen- tratcd fear—" all right?" Jane nodded. " You see before you— Mrs. Osborne!" she said. " Lady Jane says so." "What?" The gentle Sarah's voice was slightly shrill. " It must be Osborne, or no ball." Jane's voice was languid. " And I've taken a house in Eaton Place." "I see: 'no ball.' like cricket! Yet, after all, what's in a name?— except to the Wiltons. But Mr. Van Ingen," brutally, " where does he come in ? " " Don't know till I see him," coolly, though her face flushed. "And this flat?" stupidly. " Is for Wilton letters and Wilton visits," quietly. " We put a maid in it and come and go as it is necessary. No Wilton shall ever see Mrs. Osborne— or Lady Jane." ^^ "Oh!" said Sarah. She rose with a skip. " Well, now let us think what I shall wear to the ball. Blue? Yes, blue, the immortal crea- tion of my dear Paquin." And as Jane had cast care away, so did she, to all appearance. 44 CHAPTER IV A DEAD UON The rooms at Lady Jane's were full, very full; yet the new goddaughter was noticed, most carefully noticed. The fame of the for- tune of Jane Osborne had crossed the Atlantic, but wealth at a distance is not really interest- ing, and in this case distance had lent disen- chantment, for certainly no one had ever heard of her good looks. Now the view was too al- luring. Mrs. Osborne wore white, white with the shine of moonlight on it, and in her eyes, too, was moonlight. She had plenty of partners, and if she kept some blanks in her card no one saw them. She stood discoursing to Sir Richard Mandeville, who, of all men in London, had the most brains and the quickest eye for the charms of a woman. But in spite 45 L' ''■'•■'-^"'-^■''''■'''''^'■"^''^"'^■^"'■^'^^^^ , Ctie €axm of ffivfL fDiOmnt 1 i I J of his outspoken admiration she was bored, and more. Her eyes ached with looking for the man she had come to find; and her heart, too, ached, in spite of the introduction to the great world her godmother had given her that night. As her host led her through the hall they were mobbed by a well-bred crowd, whose stares at the new star were too intent to be reassur- ing to Jane, even though her companion en- joyed them. " They are worse than a mob of cattle look- ing at a red umbrella," said she, calmly. Sir Richard laughed, being for once grate- ful to his wife. " You are the red umbrella," he said. She did not hear him. She saw a man lean- ing against the wall. He was tall, with sleepy gray eyes that she knew could sparkle like the sea in the sun; and his clean, hard chin with the little cleft in it, his determined mouth, were printed on her heart with indelible distinctness. That mouth had spoken the awful words that turned life into ashes for Jane Egerton, when he had said he never meant to marry, and said truly. The Wild World was his everlasting f ' C»e €$mt of jtttn iDfixmt portion— the sea, the sound of wind in the rig- ging, the rip of the paddle, the sleep under the stars. All these things made life for him, not the arms of a woman, even of the woman he worshiped. If he could have had all, indeed f But to the poor man only one thing comes, and Van Ingen chose his— with soft words, yet he chose it. Now that he was a millionaire, the woman who looked at him knew a choice was no longer necessary. For her, life with him would have been heaven. It is always so when a woman plays the game of life with gold and the man plays with counters. Her admiring companion, who knew he was one of the most attractive men in London, was quite happy, even to beaming at Lady Jane. To his wife's goddaughter he was only a little pebble on the side of the river of life, and while she pre- tended to listen to him her eyes looked long and long at the man against the wall. As if he had suddenly awakened from sleep, Van Ingen started. For a moment the two pairs of eyes were locked; the next he was through the crowd and at her side. " Ah, Van Ingen, I see you know Mrs. Os- 47 C^e Career of ifttn i2)jaortie If <) ( i M' borne! " said Sir Richard, genially. He was surprised to find the two acquainted, but as he had to join his wife to welcome Royalty he bowed the celebrated bow that had reduced the hearts of so many women to pulp, murmured he hoped she would remember her promise to him of the tenth dance, and vanished. Mr. Van Ingen took Mrs. Osborne's hand and put it on his arm. He held it rather high, close to his side; and she felt his heart beating like a trip-hammer. Without speaking they went down the steps to a little door that led to a tiny garden— empty as Paradise. " The grass is wet." Mrs. Osborne hesi- tated on the edge. Did she fear the dampness for her feet, or the darkness of the shadows for her heart? In the dim light of the fairy lamps Van In- gen took her up in his arms and carried her to a couple of chairs in the shadow. He trem- bled a little as he put her down gently, and his old tyrannical, barbaric love for her swept over him like a wave out of a smooth sea. From the doorway Sarah saw him. No one else did, for Miss Egerton blocked the view— 48 Cte Career of iftrn t>iamnt shouJders were worn wide t:.at year. She turned so sternly that her partner asked her what was wrong. " Not the ice." replied she. " It was very good. I am thinking of the proverb: * Better a living dog than a dead Hon.* " " What do you mean by it? " asked the be- wildered man. " I mean that it is better to risk everything to find out that the lion you worship is dead than it is to worship him as a live, far-away king with whom you lived in the past. Most men— most lions— sign their own death war- rant, because no lion can live and be good in a cage." "You mean they bite their keepers?" said the man. "Exactly," she assented. "And then one loves one's own dear, gc d dog again." " A pet lion often leaves a scar," with a laugh. " He gets too aflfectionate, he " "Oh, no, he can't!" interrupted Sarah. Perhaps she was chilly, for she shuddered as she continued her reflections to herself. "Jane can keep her head," thought she. * 49 MMta ■' « i ■«* ■ (Mi; ,m « ii j i j'n' €»e €mn of jUgi; tMamt ' Van Ingen always was peculiar. Hcwutoo uiwelfiih ages ago. and unielfishnew in a man It usually inspired by poverty in the girl. Therefore he will probably be selfish now; he w,Il believe that he has never forgotten his love ^or Jane. And as he takes love in long draughts, just as he takes his excursions in^ the wiW places of the earth with all his ■trength. there'll be trouble." Van Ingcn did not ask Mrs. Osborne any hITau ^°"l^ *^' ''' '^" ^^^^^'"^ them define anTHH*^"' '" ''°"^ "^'^ J*"* ^•»- deville. and d,d not want to be told the detail. nit him'"' ^'^'^»^^«"^-<» her husband, so CHAPTER V A BMKATH OW UBIBTY " A»i these all the letters? " Jane looked at the one maid with her lovely smile. "Yes, m'm. The two gentlemen who called—" The maid hesitated almost stupidly, though she was not at all a stupid girl. It was only that she had never imagined anyone so beautiful as her new mistress looked to-day. It was not Mrs. Wilton's clothes— they were plain enough, nor her hat— which was not, but herself. Her rose-and-white smile, the soft starriness of her eyes, her radiancy that seemed to light the dingy little narrow pa ^,.. • She was good-looking when she eng.iged me," thought the dazed Adams, " but she ; a thou- sand times more so now." Then she realized that she had stopped in the middle of a sentence. " They were very sorry not to find you at home," she ended, hastily. "You said ?" SI ■* i». i < ll> W>i > ni l •!•*» Cte €mn or futn. €>«nm Y«i, m'm. Ai you told m«." Mri. Wilton nodded. " Then tea, pletse. Adams," and the fol- lowed Sarah into the microscopic drawing- room. It looked very unused for the abode of a fortnight, and this rather struck Jane. '* We ought to get more s ttled looking, really," ahe Mid. •• You know. Sarah, we've been here long enough." Sarah made no answer, but stretched herself on the solid sofa with a reckless display of faultless shoes. " Jane, will you ever forget The Cedars' farewell? Colonel Wilton's pon- derous growls in the background were really like distant thunder. How could you be so brave as to Ic-ve? I should have w-pt and re- mained." '•It was I supplied the lightn ,^." grimly. Dont thi:k about it." and she recklessly pushed her best bodice into a drawer too smaU for it. Across the garden were other flats in other high brick mansions, and ever since the impos- ir- arrival of two smart young women and wuiidcrful dressing bags at No. i6, Rossetti $2 -^ (».. •U,*..*,^ ^, fSTlUMim'Vfi C^e €mn or fM. HHOmm Mansiont, a lady with an opera glass had been enraged in sUring in at their windows from the flat opposite. Sarah observed her with dis- approval. " I shall give that old person something to see," she said, and lit a cigarette in front of the window with a joy only marred by being una- ble to see the countenance behind the opera glasses. " What was in the letters? '■ she in- quired, suddenly. " Nothing. Just settling for to-night, and iorry to have missed us when they called. It's lucky they write more letters about themselves than Horace Walpole, or they might have gone on missing us. I could have borne it," dryly " if they had stayed with Amelia." Sarah's lip straightened. " I think they'll be refreshing." she said, just as dryly. " At all events, they have come up, and as we have to dine with them we may as well think we like it. Perhaps you'd rather be dining with Royalty, but I wouldn't. Give me my little amusements." Jane chuckled. Somehow it was very funny —Jane Wilton coupled with Royalty. S3 ^» €$mt or jlita gxtwrne / I %: m r O.I it*. I wouldn't, for that would plctie th« They'd be much aiif rier at my din- estaurant with their Mcred Hopkins. 4St leven ! Come and dreii. It will •nt hiPtt to get ui into Charlet street by I qu..rii^-pa * '' ht." If t.v,k . Hying departure, indeed, that mnri I. , ved the trifling fact that tve.v derM.c.. , . the flat was observing their ex.i with deep interest. Jane had taken a sub- urhan flat, thinking it would be more retired, qu.cter. She had made no allowance for sub- urban curiosity The neighbors gazed with disapproval at Jane's curled head and Sarah's high-heelecl shoes as they disappeared into the hansom. A man standing at the nearest point of vantage caught the name of the restaurant where they were dining, flung out in Jane's high, sweet voice as she dros e oflF, and he whis- tled to the empty air. Meanwhile the unconscious dames drove on joyfully. How shocked, how ill would their relations be if they could only see theml " And what have you been doing? " inquired the ambrosially arrayed O'Hara at dinner. 54 C^e €mn or 0Lt$. €>0mm " You ought to have done all »ortt of things in thii fortnight. Ha\"e you been aikcd about much? Or do you want to be? Would you go to the Duchcsi of Atton't dance if I got cards?" "VVett Kensington flats aren't asked to duchesses'." Jane laughed her lovely laugh as she said it. "No, no! Don't get us cards for anything. We'd rather just dine quietly with you and Mr. Hopkins." The heart of Hopkins bounded. " When you go to the Duchess's we will sit quietly in our suburb and imagine you." " You'll have to imagine very hard. I sha'n't go where you are not going. As for Hopkins, he never goes out." Something like relief lighted Mrs. Wilton's eyes. " Bores me," said Mr. Hopkins. " Tired of their old beauties and don't want to be of their new ones—all paint and French dressmaker! " He looked at Jane's clean cheek and sweetly simple little gown. "Though there's the usual story this year. They say— well, they say she's a revelation ! But I don't believe it." The azalea face his eyes were on paled a lit- ^^mtt or ffittL tf)tfiortie tit. With the Background in town and "entertaining Iargei>." Mrs. George WUton, who could never go to his parties, had per- haps no desire to hear of the woman who could. " I'm told she really is exquisite—" O'Hara was a great man for justice. " I must meet her! The new American millionaire is running her. At least, the millionaire's supposed to have discovered her, though he keeps mightily m the background and swears he hardly knows her." Only Sarah knew what sick apprehension made the quick coldness in Jane's voice. " What's her namer " she said. She drank cold Water thirstily. The Background must love a woman if he would Ke for her. It made her murderous to think of any other woman's lips at his. "Name? Osborne, Mrs. Osborne. She— What's the matter?" Mrs. Wilton had dropped her glass, and her sister thought she could see her heart leaping under the crepe bodice. "Mrs. Osborne! Is she your new beauty? 56 Z^t career or fm. tf)jaortie Why," with a laugh of wild relief, of pleasure, for the Background was welcome to a woman like Mrs. Osborne, " she's not a beauty at alll I don't call her even good-looking. She's as made up as ever she can be— certainly not worth while going out of your way to see." Mr. Hopkins hid a smile in champagne. His beloved was so womanly with her guess- work "made up." Mr. O'Hara was bewil- dered. " But you haven't seen her." He was too polite to say it was unlikely she ever would. Jane had the loveliest laugh in the world, the laugh of a beautiful mouth that does not care if you see every tooth in it. " Seen her ! " she cried. " Why, I know her. So does Sarah. She's a relation of ours, though she has never had much to do with us. But she's going to be of the greatest use to us while we're in town. Oh, I dare say men," scornfully, " might call her a beauty! She al- ways has shoals of them about her. I saw her to-day. She was going to meet the Duke of Cornwall at dinner to-night." Mr. Hopkins was perturbed. Shoals of men 57 » 1 i .dJMlMiMii iKifei Cfte camr or fUtiL fOOmnt and Royalty were no surroundings for his sweet, simply mannered Jane. "Dear me I" said he. "will you see her often ? " He scented danger for his schemes of possessive dinners, of protective theatre parties. Instead, would he have to call, to dine, to scour London in the wake of the relation of the beauty? "Very often." Jane spoke firmly. "When my • in-laws ' come up to town and want us to go to thuTi, I shall always be going to Mrs. Osborne's. You see, we have very few friends in town and Mrs. Osborne will be con- venient." " Has she ? husband? " Mr. Hopkins's voice was hollow. The husbands of beauties were always fast or drunken. He trembled for his Jane. " He's dead," she said, shortly. " There are Mrs. Osborne and her father-in-law, old Mr. Osborne; and his son, Mr. Howard K. Os- borne, on a visit from Boston, U. S.; and that is all. Old Mr. Osborne and Mr. Howard are going to take us wherever we want to go. Mrs. Osborne won't want us to bore her. And I— 58 t^t €mtt of ffitfL ^lOmnt sometimes I am afraid she bores Sarah a lit- tle." " I see," said O'Hara, stiffly. " Are they— nice? They sound— charming;" sarcastic ef- fort all over him. "Very nice," returned Sarah. She had taken no notice of Jane's last sentence. She was looking her prettiest, her curly hair shin- ing golden in the pink-enwrapped light—" am- ber dropping" hair, Mr. O'Hara, being sus- ceptible, had fondly called it to Mr. Hopkins. Many men were susceptible where Sarah was concerned. "Can't you understand?" Her little teeth showed white between her fresh lips. " The Osborne men relations do not exist. We have invented them, so that we could give names and dates to the Wiltons. There is really only Mrs. Osborne, and she has me to lunch and gets done with me. I/' with ungodly pride, " invented her men relations." "No! You didn't really 1" O'Hara was filled with admiration. " Let me be Mr. How- ard K. Osborne, of Boston, U. S. I can be such a good American! What a pity," with feeling, " that the Wiltons know me! If only 59 itiiii^ m^lg^a^j,^ .1 1fimnt you could introduce me as Mr. Howard K. Osborne." " You would spoil it all," said Jane, with de- cision. " Mr. Hopkins is to be old Mr. Os- borne— to the Wiltons." Mr. Hopkins remembered sharply that he was thirty-nine. He made an effort to smile. "It's simply splendid!" the correctly lan- guid O'Hara spluttered with rapture. "Gorgeous!" echoed the old Mr. Osborne, faintl; . Then with a flash of manly insight : " Whenever you say you are going to the Os- bomes, you will come somewhere with us." " Oh, no," returned Jane, with crushing can- dor, " not at all. It is to cover up our going where we choose that we have created the Os- horntsr-p^re et His. Whenever we do not want my relatives we shall say we are going to the Osbornes." Sarah yawned. " We are going home now," she announced. " We arc tired." 60 I^HK .,.-..,„ -,:-..■ . CHAPTER VI THE TROUBLES OF A FLAT "Jane!" said Sarah, shaking the calmly sleeping form, "Jane!" Jane started up, justly exasperated. " Good heavens, what a vice you have for early rising I .What's the matter? And a wet morning, tool You might let me sleep on a wet morning." " The bath won't run. And you never could have looked at this flat ; there isn't any dining- room." " Well, I knew that. We aren't ever going to dine here, so what would be the good of one? There's a sweet kitchen with rows of white china and a gas stove " severely. " Oh," said Sarah, darkly. " Well, /V^ had a bath." She enveloped herself in a blue silk garment and departed, leaving Jane's nose once more buried in the bolster. 6i S V ■»••■•-* S C^e €$tnt of iKtu «ttionie After all, it wai a cheerful novelty to break- fast in a kitchen, and a gas stove made excel- lent toast. It was not so very hot in the kitchen, if you kept the window and the door open and sat between them. Miss Egcrton en- couraged her outraged maid to pour her a third cup of coffee. That damsel was convinced that her mistresses were mad, but she, at least, would be primly sane. She stood behind Miss Eger- ton's chair with a bearing of pomp suited to a banqueting hall, but bursting with intelligence. "If you please. Miss Egcrton," as Sarah looked up for fresh toast, "do you think this flat is respectahlef " The dark meaning was lost on Sarah. ^^ "No. No flat is respectable," calmly. "without a dining-room. Why, Adams?" For the face of the factotum was portentous. " Well, Miss Egerton, last night I took a walk in the garden after you went out, and I heard them all wondering who we could be. 'Three pretty young women,' one man was saying as I passed; the ignorant wretch had no idea," with a conscious smirk, "as how I'm your maid." 63 MiiMiifi naMI ■m C9e €$xm or fM. fi>0amit " Even that couldn't make you ugly, Adami. If that all?" " No, MiM Egerton, it's not! The window tcroM from mine in the next flat looks straight into my bedroom, and a horrid man sat in it all the evening and stared in at me. And when I got up after you had come in, to see that the door was locked, there he still was, glaring in, and me in my nightdress." " Don't look out of the window," practically. " I hear Mrs. Wilton calling, Adams." " Hear me calling! I should think so." A wrathful apparition stood in the doorway, swathed in white. " The bath won't run out; it's full of gallons of cold water where you had your bath." " I told you so." " You said it wouldn't run. I thought you meant the cold-water tap, and I didn't care, be- cause I always use hot water. But it won't run out, and I want my breakfast." " Dip it out then." " If you had the Christian habit of hot baths it would have run. Hot water," crossly, " will always run. This flat is perfectly beastly I " 63 1^ I -I .(I li li ' ) €» Career of fMk ^Httiorw "There it a tweet kitchen with rowt of white china and a gat ttove." But Jane wat gone, and toundt of woe and dipping were rising from the bathroom. The early riser determined to persist in vice. In the morning they went shopping in the long roads of Suburbia, because Jane said they were poor. Sarah ruined her skirt in climbing up and down from the tops of (minibuset, and Jane got her feet wet. They lunched at a ladies' restaurant, because Jane vowed nerv- ously that someone she knew might be at Prince's — ^Jane Wilton, who knew six people in London! Sarah gave way to unbecoming language when she found she could have noth- ing to drink but tea or coffee. They had coffee, and they expended ten shillings. Jane paid the bill morosely. " No more ladies' restaurants," she said, grimly, as she squelched with wet feet into the inside of an omnib'i?, for it was raining like Niagara. She explained as they rumbled to- ward the flat that having ruined th« , boots, it was not worth while to pay for a . nsom too late to save them. Sarah knew it was for 64 1 a !>' .*%»•_ t, *, igmmiMki • — ■•'• .^» .-^. — ^ 1 C^ Career of fML ftfimnt quite another rctfon. There it no shelter like an omnibtit for uncurled and dowdy wetness. Mr. Hopkins and Mr. O'Hara had been ad- vised that to come to tea would be useless, but they had sent a humble telegram suggesting dinner at the Carlton; they had even been so fearful of disappointment as to come to convey their divinities thither. But Jane insisted on an Italian restaurant in Oxford street. She said she disliked Prince's, the Carlton and the Cecil. After dinner Mr. O'Hara beseechcd them to come on somewhere. He murmured of the Palace. Mr. Hopkins frowned sternly. He felt himself responsible, especially for Jane, who was the prettier. " I assure you, my dear chap, they wouldn't like it." He was very protective. " We might go to the Grosvenor Qub if you like, or to see Irving. I've a box." Jane was remarkably tired; also, she loathed theatres and clubs. " Get two hansoms and we'll go home," she onnmanded. "You may come in for five minutes." She had meant one hansom for herself and 5 65 I^Lji^ C4c €$tm or iHw Wbam ii Sarah, but Mr. Hopkini wm too quick for her. "Oh, you're going with Billy," he said, sweetly, to the less divine Sarah, and he leaped nimbly in beside Jane. But when they arrived at Rossetti Mansions there was no second han- som behind them. " Sarah must be here." said Jane, as they entered the fourth-story flat after a weary climb. But Sarah was not there. Hopkins did not repine, " This is very nice," he observed when he was in the drawing-room. He had been ap- palled at the narrow darkness of the entry. " The stairs are a little steep, though." " We don't mind them. You are getting old," returned the practical Jane. " You would never guess who lives in the flat below us." She pulled up the blinds to let in the cool night air, and the modest interior was plainly visible to the dwellers opposite as Sarah came in, followed by O'Hara. The lady with the opera glass hung breathless from her balcony. " Well, O'Hara, you have been quick." Mr. Hopkins wore a meaning smirk. " Where have you been ? " 66 HHIto mm f ! i ■ ; C9e Career of 0t$, fHOiaciie " AH over town in a haniom." Sarah w»7 pink and frcth from the night breese. " We thought of going to supper, but we weren't hungry enough. What is Mr. Hopkins look* ing so perturbed about ? " " I want to know who lives below yoti." Hopkins did mtt approve of the flat, it being too far from St. James's street, where he lived. He had also had suspicions ever since he set foot on the stairs of Pos^etti Mansions. " Why do you want to know ? " " Because Mrs. Wilton says it is somebody." " Of course it's somebody, and you probably know all about her," returned Jane, cheerfully. " It's Winnie Wdlwood." "Not tht Winnie? the music-hall Winnie? the Duke's Winnie? " Hopkins sat appalled. " Yes." "Then it won't do for you to stay here. O'Hara, do you hear this? " " What a lark ! " O'Hara was not appalled. "Is she in now?" " What a lark 1 My good chap, these ladies can't stay here. It can't be respectable if they let that woman a flat" 67 C^ Cnartr ar iiityi Ottom II "Ohl" Tht fnvity of tbt titutUoii dawiMd on O'Htrt. tvtti while he compoMd hit countmtnce with difficulty. His tyet twin- kl€d. "Ftncy Winnie here! I luppoM the h*s chenfcd a lot," regretfully. " She uicd to be yrett fun." Hopkins frowned. " You must let us get you tnother flat. Mrs. Wilton. What would your husband say if he knew?" Mrs. Wilton took a rapid survey of some pages in her George's past. When he and the Duke had lived together in Charlotte street, Winnie had— but no matter. Besides, the rent was paid. "Another flat?" She skipped the quea- tion with masterly alacrity. " Of course not I Winnie won't hurt us. It's not catch- mg. " Move again f " Sarah was agonized with suppressed laughter. " Not till I have to. Winnie won't eat us. She— she won't see enough of us." Jane interrupted hastily. "Our maid says her brougham comes for 68 _^ I 7/i' rushed Mr H,it liii ■ imm w ii « ■ . 1 ■ ii» 1 m m ■ m i i i « 1— n I m m m» ] ■ < » m 1 .i j » '"* ^M [ €» c»mr of jm» £)tfMintt her unsteady career and gazed upward, half- drunk and all-malignant, at the four silhouettes against the lighted windows. Her music-hall yell carried: "I s'posc you laugh because you've been luckier than me I " and she pointed at the two men. Mr. Hopkins shot back into the drawing- room, disgustedly brushing himself with black and grimy. hands till his hostesses appeared agam. He had much to say, but Jane cut him short. She was a little pale. That raucous voice had somehow threatened disaster. " You must go home now," she said, wearUy • we are sleepy." ' ' ^^ " Oh, not yet." O'Hara was suddenly sad. 1 am just beginning to feel happy." " You can ftel happy in the cab." So with regret and solemnity the adorers de- parted. The lights were out in the passage and they had to cling closely to the banisters' as they slowly stumbled downstairs. " Did you impress on them that they couldn't come again for a week ? " Jane looked years younger as the door shut 70 Zt^t €axm of iKtu fDiOmtti on them. She had forgotten ail about Winnie. " I did," morosely. " I— I shall rather miss them." But Mrs. George Wilton only gazed radiantly at her reflection as she took the pins out of her hair. " After all, it was very easy to " lam aloose," and Mrs. Osborne was very useful and easy to manage. " I'm sorry I said she was made up," she murmured, repentantly, to her glass; "so un- grateful ! " And she laugh«;d just as Sarah had laughed when the freedom of the flat dawned on her. rt 13 E •J -'i H'^-ft'-viW. «»,-»■• ' •' -=.'vi<-4jw»«k/-=*"^ ■■•"-■«»•*'»*;,■ CHAPTER VII THl NIW BEAUTY Mrs. Osborne came late to the Duchess of Aston's dance, the dance that the Hon. Wa- liam Craven O'Hara had scorned becaove Miss Sarah Egerton refused cards for it It was rather a pity, since thus he could have trmm- phantly disproved Mrs. George Wilton's slurs on her smart relation. Yes, Mrs. Ori»me was beautiful. To know it you had only to look at the women's faces of dark envy, of blank wretchedness, as she passed by them. There was youth in her exquisite grace, but there was no simplicity. She was exotic, fine, strangely sumptuous and unmodem ; her face a face that might have smiled on dead men out of Circe's window in strange lands long ago ; cut exquis- itely, as to show the gods what a woman's face could be. The color of it was like azalea flow- ers, creaming into the pink that is the pink <^ 72 I K&JBtt^i&EiaiSEi&ill C^e Camv of fML tiDAome dawn, not of roses. She carried her brown head high, with a curious backward loll of it on a flawless throat, and under her slow lids shone the eyes of a woman to whom the world is very young. At least a man who knew her thought so. The woman next him was only wondering why Mrs. Osborne was not looking radiant triumph and provocation at the gathering cloud of men. Also, if that plain brown were beautiful in hair, it was a pity it cost two guineas a week to keep hers Titian red. "What?" She was absent enough to be irritable, but hastily recovered herself. " Per- iectly exquisite, is she not ? " " A woman whose mouth is scarlet and not crimson goes far," murmured the man who had bnn thinking of Circe, and promptly he went far himself — to Mrs. Osborne's very elbow. Her foamy skirts, that were golden-threaded laae an dawn-yellow chiffon, on something pale fiame under that, brushed his foot. The cost of them would have kept Jane Wilton in West Kensington for a month. The faint, keen scent from them pleased the man, just as did the inef- 73 mmm Hii ngmyi^ "aSEft^ t^ €axm oC iRtu ^lOmnt V I fable unartncM, the grace and air of their wearer. His face was impassive, chilly, at she turned and saw him. " There's no supper yet," she said, with a laugh. " I wonder why." Her face was lovely as she laughed, even if the sorceress look in it was intensified. Everyone else laughed, too. " Ask the Duke," said a man. " Is he more truthful than his equerry? I," placidly, " don't like equerries." " He's more patient," said the equerry, slow- ly. " To-night, at least, he's waited an hour." " Oh, not for me I Nobody ever waits for me," serenely. But the equerry was gone. Royalty, simple-mannered and rather in- jured was at her side. Mrs. Osborne liked Royalty, who was a gentleman, as all Royalties are not. She smiled as she went away with him, looked her loveliest as she sat beside him at a table where even the Duchess ceased from troubling. If the marvel of her eyes was on a hawk-faced man across the room, no one knew it — particularly the man. Yet when the Duke was gone he was unos- 74 •-> !-j -••.»•»-». ,i» ;... .^ ,v mmt Cl^e Camr oC fum. iMxime tentatiously beside her, and he laughed as she spoke tranquilly. " Once round the room," said Mrs. Osborne. No one would have known she had dressed and come just to waltz once round the Duchess's ballroom in Van Ingen's arms. His shoulder was like iron under her hand, his coat so near to her cheek the dearest thing in the world, his strong, easy hold of her — dear God I to have had his arm forever between her and all others! She made him stop, be- cause the sharp thought hurt her. " In here," he said. The room was empty. " Now sit down and let me look at you. I get the most awful feeling every now and then that you are a dream, and that I'm going to wake up." " If you want to wake! " said Mrs. Osborne. A childish gayety lighted her eyes. " It's too funny," she said. " You and I, who were no- bodies, poor nobodies — once ! " " You were always a princess." He had a trick of throwing back his head and smiling, his keen eyes very sweet. Mrs. Osborne's laugh was as young as Jane Wilton's own. 75 « ■' > ii ^ mm i^^'^'^mmm -j.w..i^^^,..jant...j-M.?i;. ■— :4.Jlfe»ilT:L - ""'■'»»« ,^ Vtt €mn o( ^tix$. 0tbom " Whit I When you uicd to come to Atuit AdeU'f by the back gate before breakfiit, and had to run all the way home to get past the other houses before they woke up? I had two hideous cotton frocks she made me wear, black with white dots on them. No one could look like a princess in ^hite dots." " I wish I'd got up earlier and run more! " sharply. " I wish the ship that took me away from you had never sailed. Do you know how I've always 'rememl)ered you ? In one of those cotton frocks, kneeling down and picking strawberries. I came behind you. You didn't expect me." '• Oh, no! " She made no pretense of hav- ing forgotten. " I didn't expect you. I was caught. I was all over strawberries. I could have cried." " You were like a princess dressed up. It was no surprise to me when I found you like this. I knew you'd marry. If I hadn't, I— I think I shouid have gone back to look for you." Mrs. Osborne's hand pressed her fan a little. "Would you prefer the cotton frock?" the said, languidly. 76 *"■» ♦*!—•* * t^Mffi^'L"*; • ■ --:''■: ^^^Sj^^BSEESS^^S^S!^ 5^=^ ^s €» Cttecr of 0x$. ftftcnte "No, you were made for this! If I had gene bade ** It might have been to find you'd lost your tatte for cotton." " It's all the same It's you. " Somehow Mrs. Osborne remembered what time it was. "And — me — is going home," she said, gayly. " Do you know that I — " he rose because she did — " I never danced with you in those days? I made a vow I'd never dance again till I had the girl of my heart in my arms." "Girls are out of fashion," observed Mrs. Osborne, sweetly. She had seen her hostess's frock in the doorway, within earshot. "I've kept the vow, all the same," he re- turned, under his breath. It was the Duke of Aston who put Mrs. Osborne in her carriage. When she drove away in the May dawn no one could have thought her impassive, indifferent to success. She put down both windows, drank the wine- sweet air avidly, widc-nostriled, full of pride. Her face was wicked with triumph. She, who 77 C9e €mn of jKta IHAome had picked strawberriet in her aimt't gardtn in a hideout cotton frock, had taken the town by •torm ; had kept the heir to the throne waiting till it pleated her to arrive; had the detir« of her eyes, the love of her heart within reach, when the choae to put out her hand. It wat for this that the was mad with joy. No matter what happened, the would never let him go- while he wanted her( Ami she laughed. She was sure of him. Poor Jane Wilton, with her white frocks, and her Background f But Jane Wilton was no actress, perhaps, and carried her head a little forward as Nature put it, and let her crimson lips alone. Mrs. Osborne of the scarlet lips would have the kisses that Jane had never forgotten. With money and unerring taste even a fur- nished house in Eaton Place may be made soft- colored and individual, a dimly gorgeous set- ting to the loveliest thing in it. Mrs. Osborne's house was that, and more. Against silks thick with silver embroidery, satins worked by clois- tered nuns for princesses, faint-colored like sunsets and pale dawns, she shone sUrlike in her drawing-room ; against brocade hangings, 78 , !H4LL i i„ Cte Ctmr of mtn ^Aam tht ipotlt of forgottm palaces, iht Mt at her dinner Ubie. But for her bedroom the did not care. It was as its owner left it, hideous, franki) English ; so far, the only room in the house that did not matter. She woke up in it. and laughed as she saw that her companion had brought the chocolate, instead of her maid. "I had a gorgeous time!" she said. "I nearly woke you up to tell you of it. Oh, why don't you go about with me? " The companion laughed. " I'm saving money. You said so yourself the other day. Here's the paper, all about you ! And the Ladies' Letter in the pyorld says that ' to be a K^auty it is apparently only necessary t do one's hair low and wear green shoes.' 1 told you someone would spot those shoes. Do look at the invitations. How shall I an- swer them? Oh, and Lady Alderney says she'll be delighted to present you at the Draw- ing Room ! " " I've no doubt she would," with vigor. " It would take more than delight to get me to Court," chuckling. "I'm — too American to spend such a dull morning. I'll accept all the 79 MICROCOfY RISOIUTION TIST CHART lANSI and ISO TEST CHART No 2l 1.0 I.I tii ||22 io IIIII2.0 1.8 ^ /APPLIED IIVMGE Inc Sr*. 1653 Eo5l Main SttMl ■ F!~ Rochestef. Ne» York U609 uSA ,Sm (716) 482 - OJOO - Phone ^5 (716) 288 - 5989 - Fa« . '* 1^ \ 1.1 1 1 CQe Career of sax^ i^isbome nice things, though. Lady Lanark's dinner dance — I must go there. Miles Van Ingen's river party, of course. I wish you'd come — he said to bring you. Three balls, good houses, too; two invitations for Ascot week — they can wait. I don't," thoughtfully, " want to crowd every day till I can't turn round. What's that?" A telegram lay, flimsy and ugly, among the smart notes. " It was among what I got last night. I didn't show it to you. It's for Saturday week," cheerfully. " I don't care two straws," said Mrs. Os- borne, deliberately. She scribbled a list of en- gagements on the back of a card. " On Satur- day week you and I are going to— to Hastings. Nothing can interfere with that. You can ' un- avoidable absence from town' all these. They're nearly all dull. But these—" she had put six invitations together neatly — " I'll man- age these. I," composedly, "will dovetail them in." They were all places where Miles Van Ingen was going. 80 CHAPTER VIII A FAMILY PARTY The fiat looked grubby to Mrs. George Wil- ton as she came in. Sarah, very heartlessly gay in her best tea gown, pitchforked a letter across the placid tea table into her sister's un- willing hand. " Another despatch," she said. " That makes five, counting the telegram." Jane tore it open, groaned and read aloud : " Dear Jane : We hope to arrive in town this afternoon and are looking forward to see- ing you to-morrow. Will you go to our rooms (95, Cromwell road) and give our landlady a few last directions? Tell her we shall want dinner at seven, soup, fish, whiting or haddock — six small ones, Jane — be sure you mention six, and small. They must be about the size of a herring, and she is to fry them. Order a 6 81 »r„e at The Ce- *; ^y'^'; Mrs. Osborne an'''^''"''^'°^'-^^^'^'^^^''^^M;. 86 Zt^t Career of inns. €)M)ome Sarah gave a frighlencil start. This was really too wild. " Mrs. Oslx)rne is a relation of ours," she said, hurriedly. " The OslMjrnes are American, you know." •• So I should have supposed." "Did you like the play?" inquired Amelia. " I liked Mrs. Pat." " Mrs.— ? oh. Mrs. Patrick Campl^ell! You speak very flippantly, Jane. Did you sit be- side Mrs. Oslxjrne? I hope you are always very careful to sit beside her. It looks so much more modest." *• I sat between old Mr. Osborne and Mr. Howard K. Osborne," said Sarah, frantically, for there >v as an evil light in Mrs. George Wil- ton's eye. " Osborne? Ha, I don't know any Osbornes now I I did once, though. Where do these people come from? Isabella, I wish you'd ring for luncheon," shouted Colonel Wilton. Jane plunged wildly. " Kalamazoo," she responded, to the annoy- anc* of Sarah, who had meant to say Cohoes. " What's his name— the father's ? " 87 1 C^e Career of f^tn, ^^bctnt .1 \mw Jane had a fetish, ami the fetish was a chin.i «log of vile pottery, with a foolish smile ami large blue eyes. Since the age of three she had jwssessed it, and wherever she went the china d')g went also. His name? Suddenly the name of the fetish •KTcurrcd ti) her. She cast a stern glance at Sarah, '■ Mr. Osborne's Christian name is Reginald Adolphus." she said, blandly. And thf'n the miage of the true Reginald Adolphus, with his spotty china coat, his span- iel cars and his collie tail, presented itself oo vividly to her mental vision. She began to laugh helplessly. "It is— it is such a funny name!" she gasped bet we -n her hysterical chuckles, wiping the tears from her eyes. " Funny ! I don't think it's funny ! " snorted Colonel Wilton. " Very ordinary I call it. Isabella, I want my lunch." " You would think it was funr.y if you saw him," retorted Jane. Sarah rose hastily and looked out of the win- dow. The amiable china smile of Reginald 88 CQe Carrtt of fiktn* Onhmit Adolphus had occurred to her alio. Uul Jane was too reckless; they would be getting into trouble if !>he went on like this. She feared the worst during luncheon. So matter how hard pressed one may be at luncheon, it is impossi- ble to rise and tly to the window to hide a too ingenuous countenance. I have tickets for the Albert Hall this af- ternoon," Mrs. Wilton announced as she carved the orthodox hot roast l)eef. " Your tickets, Jane, came to four shillings." •* Oh, I am afraid we can't go! That is, I haven't any money." Jane was oflf her guard and pattered weakly. " It would l)e a pity for you to miss the chance o' hearing a little gootl music," Mrs. Wilton pursued. "You can -we it to me. There are always such nice ballads at the Al- bert Hall on Sundays, about shipwrecks and the sea and prayers— quite religious. I am so fond of sacred music ! " Sarah glared rebelHously at Jane. But Jane was hungry, and wls eating roast beef and boiled potatoes as if she liked them. " Thank heaven, I ave on m ,' best corset I " 89 e(ie career of iRrE g>$bamt '' i reflected Sarah, angrily. " I couWn'r feel him- gry if I were starving." She Icxike,! tlintaste- fully at the waxy »)oile to the Altwt Hall on a Sunday in a large hat." Jane. to«i »tui)cfied for sjicech. gazed at Eve- lyn. " Wh% iii the matter with my hat ? " she de- manded at last. " It is a little-well." Mrs. Wilton nodded |«rtentously. " Evelyn is quite right, my dear Jane. You can borrow her traveling toque to wear. And really, Jane. I consider so thick a ved fastf One would think you did not want to be recognized." Jane clutchetl her headgear with both hands. Thank you, I will go as I am," she said, " or there is no need for us to go at all." " But that would be a waste—the tickets arc paid for." To pay for anything and then not use It, even if it were al. .rrent, was out of Mrs. Wilton's range of vision. " And perhaps 90 Hi Ctie Career oC 0ix$, €)0borne no one will notice your hat. Ilui )ou imi»i really get a nice, cjuict little U^nnet to wear when y«.u go al»oiit with us." •* I think," «.lmrvcil jane, very slowly ami H'fl). "I *h;i!l not rcijuire that bonnet." But the |v)int was wasted on her re! uveji. " We »hall l)e etigagctl a fjrc it «lcal this week." Sarah put in. lirnily. " Mrs. Os»K>rne has come to London to — t.- e a «l«ictt)r. ,\nlutely necessary f«)r her to l)e amused. So we are tliniiij; with hci an0fmnt " Don't know. You look very smart. Have you got on any of my clothes? " "Only your wedding ring," carelessly. " And very useful it was. Oh. you must know whom I met! It was the luckiest thing I went out." "What!" Jane sat up from her elegant position on the sofa. " Not Urmston, Sarah? What did you do ? " "Urmston, exactly; and I didn't do any- thing. I said, ' How do you do ? ' and, well— I routed him ! " " Did he ask you where I was? " said Jane, curiously. " Was that why he wanted rout- ing?" Sarah winced, ever so faintly. " No, he didn't. But oh, Jane, he knows the Wiltons. He knows we live here. He wanted to come and call." "What did you say?" Jane was very white. The Wiltons could not be forbidden her flat any more than death or the baker's boy, but their emissaries she would not have. " How did you manage? " " Beautifully," with a childlike smile. " He 95 ■»i C^e Catrer of fML tf)0bome i h i ' didn't catch my name that day at— Mrs. Os- borne's. On that occasion he had been glued to her side with such an effect that it was the first and last time Miss Egerton appeared in Mrs. Osborne's drawing-room. " I had bor- rowed your wedding ring for fun, and so," very cheerfully, " as he seemed to think I was married, I let him think so." " But he'll find out! " Cold horror was in Jane's voice. " Not he! He l.u't half as tall as I thought he was, Jane, and he looked as if he had been bleached since I saw him." " Good heavens! " said Jane, faintly. " Are you sure it was he? " "Am I sure you are you? Listen. I met him at that new picture place, and he took me to have tea. I took of! my gloves, and when he saw your ring he looked so surprised that I improved the occasion." " What did you tell him your name was? I suppose," unkindly, " you drew the line at tell- ing him you were the duchess of anything." " That's where I managed so well. I didn't tell him anything. I talked a little about Cap- 96 |t' ^l^e Career of /nm €)jeibome tain Wilton, and I answered when he called me Mrs. Wilton." " But why ? What on earth made you pre- tend to be me? Hell meet you at the Wil- tons'. You were mad." " I was wise." Sarah looked at her sister significantly. " He— I— it's such an odd thing, Jane; quite inexplicable," gazing straight at her. " Last Thursday the Wiltons caught him in the Park and made him point out the cel- ebrities. He did. And the Wiltons— well, it seemed to me that if he pined to set eyes on their daughter-in-law, he'd better do it at once!" " But he'll see me at their house." "Never goes there," sententiously. "Afraid of Amelia. Don't look at me like that. I tell you it was the only thing to do." "But he'll come here!" " He won't now ; he would have. I terri- fied him with mamma-in-law. Also, why should he come when I'm going to meet him in the Park in the morning? The Wiltons," mus- ingly, " only go there in the afternoons." 7 97 Cfte CarcCT oC fML fMbotnt •• He*i "Don't go— for me!" very pale. * kittle cattle to shoe behind.' " •• I must. Unless you'll put things straight yourself," slowly. " I can't," said Jane, dully. " Vm playing for money, Sarah; and I thought it was for counters." Sarah looked at her, and held her peace. But her choked-down answer stuck in her mind. She was playing for flesh and blood, and gallantly, if for a forlorn hope not her own. Jane's voice startled her. " Does Urmston know—" it was the first time for days that she had said the name— ••George?" , . •• No," shortly. " Not even that he s m In- dia. The family were evidently pressed for time when they met him." At ov.e o'clock the next after-oon Lord Urmston discovered Sarah seated in the Park, a vision of diaphanous muslin, crowned with a large black hat and shaded by a faintly rosy parasol. He saw at once why the Wilton family had taken Mrs. Osborne for her. Her whole toilet was exactly what Mrs. Osborne had worn 98 ■*^~. m ete career of iKrn i0)M)ome list Thursday, when the same parasol had shaded her face from her would-be relatives. His lordship felt the warm midday air heady as he looked at l.?r. Sarah as she greeted him made certain that her preposterous heels were out of sight. She had not told Jane all about yesterday. She had had a horrible fright, had been driven indeed before she posed as her sis- ter. But it had been a great success, and to- day's gown clinched it. Urmston as he sat down beside her was cursing himself for a short-sighted idiot. Who would ever have thought a Wilton daughter-in-law could have been like this, with sense enough to come out rather than make him run the gantlet of Wil- tons at her flat ? He decided never to mention her to her relatives, if he had the bad luck to come across them. " I believe all the nice women in the world are manied," he remarked, concisely. Sarah had the grace to blush. " I wonder if all the nice men are," she re- turned, thoughtfully; and she looked straight into his gray, self-seeking eyes with her lucid blue gaze. There were friends of Sarah's who 99 C^e Ceveer of ffiXfL iOfixncnt would have known that the look threatened stormy weather. Lord Urmston saw only a fair wind and set his spinnaker. " You look charming this morning, and io happy. Tell me — " he was the sort of man who makes acquaintance intimacy if the woman be pretty — " are you happy ? " " I never was so happy in my life," compos- edly Composure is a great addition to a lie. He gave her a sudden glanre. " I wonder if you know what happiness is. I wish 1 could teach you." Teach her! Sarah kept contempt oflf her lips. She had an instant's vision of another man's face, young and spare, of other eyes. " What is happiness? " she said, dreamily. " You are married to the man of your choice, and yet — you can ask ! " " I can ask." She looked at him. " Can you answer ? " She was thanking heaven it was not Urmston to whom phe must look for happiness. "Happiness? It is to be with the woman who charms you, whether you have her for- 100 Zi9t Career of futn, 0ia»me It is to love ai the ever or for but a little time. Greeks loved, to—" Sarah laughed. No one in all the world, not even Jane, had ever before heard her laugh like that. And when Urmston, wincing, looked sharply at her she was holding her slim throat very straight, and the set of it was merci- less. His head swam. The brown-green turf, the passing carriages, the women in their p.Me- colored gowns went before him like a dream in which the one thing real was Sarah. And she had laughed ! She should pray before he was done with her. His upper lip went up; for just one second the white teeth, with the oddly wide division bct\,een the two in front, showed. But Sarah did not see. She was get- ting up, carefully keeping her pale-rose parasol between her pale-rose face and the sun. " Let us go and have luncheon," she said se renely. "Would you mind coming with me first to Jay's ? " There was an odd look on Lord Urmston's keen, eager face as he intimated that he was de- lighted to go to Jay's. But by the time they loi C|^ CtVCtt OC fft$» €)iMltt IN had rcichcd Hydt Park corner another look reigned in iti itead. Ten minutei later a hantom wat pulled up with a jerk in the middle of Regent ttrcet, ' .ereby causing s vift profanity from the driver of an omnibus whose horses nearly ran over it A man in gentleman's clothes jumped out and imperiled them amid the traffic rwore viciously at a policeman who tried to stop him as he dived under the nose of a hansom horse, and dis- appeared between two omnibuses. The driver of the hansom from whidi the man had fled peered down through the trap for orders, and a girl's voice said, wildly : " Drive on— any where f No, Sloane street." As the cab turned back into the street Sarah sat in It trembling with fury. Was that what UiMston called conversation? — vO &ay he adored her; to take it for granted she adored him, because, forsooth, she had met him l^ appointment ; to propose she should go to Paris with him I " You have never been in Paris. Your husband will never know." It had been all she could do to speak. " My husband — no, he never will know," she had said slowly. Then 103 hiil sill' liad hiu^Ufd'. C^ Ctmr or 0ix$. tfibome with her parasol the had pushed up the little window in the roof. " Sto|>— at oncef" the had said. And l(K»king straight at Urmiton, " Get out of this haniom f Go!" Her voice had been high and steady. " Get out of my sight I I loathe you I " Jane or no Jane, dan- gerous or not, she would for once speak the truth to Lord Urmiton. She h.id been play- ing the g.ime so calmly he had never imagine*! this was coming. He had »nt petrified wifh amazement. "Will you go? Or must I?" Sh^ had held her breath as she looked at him. And without one word, without his own voli- tion. Lord Urmston had got up, hid fourd him- self standing in the roaring traffic, being cursed on all sides. For once Sarah was wildly unhappy. She wept sick, unwilling tears when she was s.-^fe in Rossetti Mansions with the house to herself. " I'll never be unselHsh again," she sobbed. She was startled by the ring of a telegraph boy. However, it was not what she expected, for her tears ceased as she read. It was O'Hara, begging her in a humble and lengthy wire to dine with him at the Cecil. Her heart 103 ■-•-♦>♦-•» V-»«t*»<^ *!*»!._ ^^e €axttt of 0LtfL €)j3l)ome turned to him gratefully. What was it Jane had said? "Mr. O'Hara thinks gold is not good enough for you." He was always the same, always kind, always tender, never tak- ing advantnge of their wild adventures to say one word she would rather he had not said. " I may forget I'm a lady — " she dashed fresh tears from her eyes — " but he never for- gets he is a gentleman." So she sent an an- swer to the reinstated O'Hara and set forth to dine with him, dressed adorably. O'Hara thought she had never looked so pretty. He walked proudly into the Cecil with her and es- tablished her at a small table in the corner, where he ordered a dinner that even Sarah begged him to moderate. But he only laughed, and went on. Sarah was well launched in her dinner when a man and a woman brushed past her as they took their seats at the next table. There were reasons why Miss Egerton could not turn pale, but a fierce, a frightened gleam lighted her nar- rowed eyes. Lord Urmston had evidently been seeking consolation, and by what evil fate was it that he brought it to the Cecil? 104 C^e Career of fsitfL flDisbome OHaras back was to the couple, but Sarah must sit and face them throughout her over- long dinner. Urmston had not seen her yet. She leaned forward and touched O'Hara with a beseeching, trembling hand. " Whatever you do, don't call me by my name." she sSitl. " There is a man sitting be- hind you whom I once knew, and I don't want him to come and speak to me. Perhaps he won't be certain who I am if he does not hear you say my name. I— I hate him ! " incoher- ently. "I'll break his neck if he annoys you!" O'Hara did not understand, but that was no matter — his Sarah could do no wrong. And the look of him gave Sarah courage. " He's not — a very nice man ! I know Jane," with late virtue, " would not like me to speak to him." " All right," cheerfully. " You sha'n't." Urmston had seen her by this time, but her look was as calmly unconscious as an utter stranger's. It was he who was disconcerted. Sarah under lowered lids saw him glance at his consolation with distaste — it was an opu- 105 is^^mmm^ mm j^^^*-_*~±_>^ ZJ^t Career of fRxiL ^tffmnt lently fair consolation with over-golden hair. Suddenly she felt faint, for he had turned his eyes full on her and in them was an expression that terrified her. She must take strong meas- ures. If he thought O'Hara merely an ac- quaintance he was quite likely to come and accost her, and she knew the words that would be on his tongue. But if he could be made to thing O'Hara was her husband! As she re- flected she caught Utinston's eye— and he smiled. At that smile Sarah's wild blood was up. There was something fundamentally strange and untamed about her under her languid man- ner, her childlike gayety. With the same im- pulse with which she would have put a knife into Urmston had she been hard pressed, she leaned forward and spoke to O'Hara. It was some trifling nonsense that she uttered, but there was a sweet familiarity as of long use in her tone, such as Mr. O'Hara had never heard. The poor boy's heart filled with pride. There was a bn .ling and consultation of waiters round Urmston ; for the moment he could not hear. Sarah, very low, spoke to O'Hara again. io6 ■'•H.**' CQe Career of iftrn ^sibomt " I said not to call me by my name, but you can't say 'hi' when you speak to me. You can say ' Sarah ' I believe," she laughed, " you always call me ' Sarah ' in private." O'Hara changed color. " I would like to," he said, quietly. " I wish I could think that in private life you called me •Billy.'" For the Honorable William Des- mond Craven O'Hara, the son of many earls, had no tore romantic nickname than " Billy." •' I will if you like— Billy." The man behind O'Hara heard the tone of the last word, and it gave him a new emotion. He looked at her left hand, where Jane's wed- ding ring was surmounted by Sarah's pearls. This was evidently the husband. Somehow he had ignored the fact that the husband might be in town. He would rather have seen him old or insignificant than unexceptionable like this. As he watched the pair leave the room Lord Urmston decided he was well ou. of this day's work, but he regretted Sarah infernally, and he was exceedingly rude and disagreeable to his consolation. Mr. O'Hara, when he had climbed up the stairs of Rossetti Mansions 107 Ci^e Career of ^ris. iS>si>\mtnt with Sarah, stood beside her in the empty drawing-room. " Good-night," he said, quite huskily. " I have to thank you for the happiest evening I ever had in my life." He stooped, and with a certain reverence laid his lips lightly on her hand. As the door closed behind him Sarah threw herself down on the sofa. There she lay till the dawn came in, her smart satin evening cloak huddled up round her, crying softly and bit- terly with self-contempt and shame. If O'Hara only knew— everything 1 T08 M 1 CHAPTER X TWO SOCIAL FAVORITES Miss Winnie Wellwood sat reading the papers. On the IVorld, Truth, Vanity Fair and Society she browsed every week ; you knew who was who if you did that and cast no pearls before younger sons. But this week there were no names exploited— except Mr. Miles Van Ingen's. He " had taken a deer forest," had " bought Lord Elderson's place in Devonshire," " was building a steam yacht," had " given a dance with an American cotillion and Ameri- can favors." Miss Wellwood's mouth watered at the favors. "All that money going to waste, and me getting old ! " she said, viciously. She knew she might as well go out and try to catch the stars with a butterfly net as hope to get hold of Van Ingen. Besides, it dawned on her suddenly that in every paper a paragraph 109 ' '--i 1, H 11 n Ode Career of fM^ Hbfimm about Mrs. Osborne, the new American beauty, came after each that held Van Ing^n's name. The " Ladies' Letters " were even bolder. " Mrs. Osborne at the Countess of Bar- wick's was, of course, mobbed, as usual. She bore her honors calmly, and danced a good deal with her compatriot, Mr. Van Ingen. . . . " Mrs. Osborne I saw, among others. She was driving on the box seat of Mr. Van Ingen's coach, looking supremely beautiful and happy. I* • • " Mrs. Osborne's gown at Lady Ilminster's garden party at Bolland House was a dream in banana-green. The foamy flounces puzzled me, lill I discovered they were of string-colored lace applique with wee pink ostrich feathers. She wore her favorite green shoes. On dit that she is so devoted to them as to mean to wear them en seconde noces; but as that occa- sion is likely to be a purely American one we poor Islanders will probably see many new things thereat." Miss Wellwood cast down the third paper. no Is- Cie Career of iatiL ^lOmnt Eh seconde noces was Greek to her. She clawed a meaning of her own out of it that was fairly correct. And she hated Mrs. Osborne with a fine vigor, because she was in no need of Mr. Miles Van Ingen's dollars-and Miss Wellwood was. Banana-green gown," she sniffrd. sourly. " I bet her looks are all clothes. If she's so lovely why doesn't she have her photo in the shops ? All clothes and luck, I call these ' beau- ties,"' savagely. "I was good-looking enough, but Td no luck. That slim woman who lives upstairs, she's about the prettiest thing I've ever seen, and all the luck she's got is one little man that's running after her. And Thompson," with a laugh. "She wouldn't look at Thompson, even if he dared look at her. But you wouldn't catch me living here if I'd her looks. One man." with deep scorn, " and a red-headed boy, all that ever come near her. She's either poor or a fool." She picked up her papers again. " I'd like to see this Mrs. Os- borne that's caught Van Ingen. I'd lay odds he's having tea with her now. Tea ! That's where the difference comes in. They give tea III ■m i C^e Career of fiitiL iD0bome and we give champagne. But it conies to the same thing in the end," cynically. " I won't re id any more about Van Ingen. I'm never likely to do more than read. He doesn't go anywhere I go. They don't — when they can get banana-green gowns and tea. Ur-rh! I can see that tea now," She was quite right, so far as the banana- green gown went. The tea stood neglected in Mrs. Osborne's drawing-room. Miles Van Ingen, very pale and shining eyed, stood fac- ing Mrs. Osborne in the middle of the room. " Do you love me as much as that ? " he said. He was triumphant. Mrs. Osborne nodded. Alone with him, all the mystical, sorceress look had gone from her face. She was girlish, fresh — and ashamed! She covered her face sud- denly, as if she could not meet his eyes. " Don't," he said. " Look at me. There's nothing that can't be said between you and me. There's never been a day we haven't loved each other for all these years." He forgot the tri- fling episode of Osborne. This woman was his. always had been and always would be. He caught her hands and kissed her, as no 112 C^e Career of f^tn. ^ibome one had kissed her since the day he left her. In a hired house in Eaton Place Mrs. Osborne stood inside the gates of heaven. " Kiss me again," he said. " We've years to make up for. But we'll have years to do it in." He laughed, quick and short. "Oh. blessed London and blessed money! I'd never have found you without them." " Let me go," she said. " I'm dizzy." But she was not. She only felt as if something had stopped the rioting blood in her, made her faint. Yet when he brought her a chair she did not sit down. " Why couldn't you have found me without the money ? " she said. " You could have gone back." " You married Osborne." " Before that." " I couldn't have married you even if you had remained single. You knew that. Not till this year. I — I was packing raisins in a factory in Mexico. Faugh I I can Sv . those colored papers now." So he had really been penniless I Her blood began to move again. Sometimes she had 8 113 HMM •«iMlMli« -.* ■ . --%3 u\ I U wondered if — But no matter. He loved htf with all his loul now. "How much do you love me?" She laughed because she was so happy. *' You wouldn't believe me. You were al- ways an u.ibeliever/' shrewdly. " But it's I who can't believe now. Do you 'xnow I'm a poor match ? Oh, I'm not talking about money — you've that already. But a woman all Lon- don raves over, Mrs. Osborne this and Mrs. Osborne that — you could marry a prince to- morrow, and you know it. I can't believe—oh, you're a sort of queen, Mrs. Osborne!" with that quick little laugh. " I can't believe you're coming of! your throne to me." " I'm a fashion," with a quick intake of her breath. " An — an episode ! Miles, tell me, if I weren't Mrs. Osborne, if I hadn't ' caught on,' would you love me? " " I might have seen you," with superfluous truth. " If I'd had a husband alive when you met me?" " Osborne died in '98," he said roughly. " You never loved him. Forget him." 114 III C^e Ctmr of iiiak OAomc "Loved him! Why ihould I love him?" It was a queer thing to say. " He's got no> thing to do with it — except the money that lets me be the success you say I am. I—I'm only Ulking, Miles. Let me talk. I always," with a sharp smile, " liked to get at the root of things. Suppose, instead of finding me Mrs. Osborne, you'd found me married to a well- meanini;, kind, middle-class husband, the sort I should have been likely to marry at Aunt Adtla's, what would you have done then? *' " Kept out of your way— o.' made you get a divorce." " If you couldn't do either ? If " He laughed. "If ' ifs and ans were pots and pans,' " he said; but the laugh had covered annoyance. " It would be just the same. You know it would. Sweetheart, what's the matter?" For the second time Mrs. Osborne's hands had covered her face. " I — I wanted to be sure it was I you loved, not the Mrs. Osborne the town runs after. You are sure?" "I'm sure I won't let you talk any more 115 ■■*a«Mtai«M>> id 't C^f Cfttett of iRnk tf)Aonif nonsense. " He came to hei mtsterfully. " You're mine; you've said sa" •' But listen. I must '* " I won't. That's more than your • must.* Do you think anything could stop my loving you? Nothing. Now nre you satisfied?" He took her hands from her face, and whatever thought of indecision had been on it was gone. He was right, nothing mattered ; nothing she could ever tell him would matter. It was Miles who had come back to her, Miles who would love her as she loved him, out beyond and in the V orld to come. »vhatever one called it, hell or heaven. She held out her arms to him ak if he were all she had on earth. " My sweetheart, how lovely you pre'" he said, his cheek against hers. And his voice caught at the soul of Mrs. Osborne. Whatever she had to tell him of a hitherto colorless .life should not be told to-day. Be- tides, there was a step outside, a She was standing at the tea table as the door opened ; Mr. Van Ingen with an impassive face was saying good-bye. Mrs. Osborne's incom- ii6 C^ camt or iRti. ^ttboimt inf viiiton thought they had never lecn her lo lovely ; and perhaps they nevr< had. She dined with Lady Lanark. Van Ingcn from the other tide of the table worshiped her. The glamour of her dazed him— her beauty, her vogue, her indefinable air, the beauty that was redoubled to-night because of him. As soon as dmner was over he would ask her to let him tell his victory. His hard face was feverish as he thought of it. But af- ter dinner Lady Lanark had plans; he found he could go home or agree to them. She ap- parently patronized an oil-and-color shop for her complexion, and she liked her pleasures to match. They were all going to the Empire. Mr. Van Ingen knew why as well as if he had been told. "Showr* cried Lady Lanark. "We haven't come to sec the show. We've come to sit here in the lounge and eat ices and see the world." Mr. Van Ingcn was the only man who did not put on an air of nervous gloom. " Dear mc, they look very prim and pious ! " She omitted to say whom she meant. " They're "7 C^e Career of fgiviL mimnt —really, Mr. Van Ingen, they do those things better in France ! " Mrs. Osborne fanned herself, her exquisite head held even more backward than usual. It amused her to hear Lady Lanark appeal to Van Ingen; he was so openly restive. He started now. " What ? The show ? How do you know when you won't look at it ? " " No, not the show, my dear ingenu! " Lady Lanark was impervious to snubs. " The — the —what's that over there? It looks— Wkt a Japanese screen!" She pointed to a girl in red, with gold embroideries spilled all over her. " And the lady in the tailor frock — so sweet and Sergey ! What's her name ? " " I really never heard it." Van Ingen calmly retired to Mrs. Osborne's side. "Why on earth did we ever let her drag us here?" he said, in a furious undertone. " Let me take you home." " I daren't. They'd talk ! " " Then let me tell them." " Please, no," said Mrs. Osborne, faintly. He nodded. ii8 tiDi^e Career of ffitf^ ii)iiiXx»me " You watch me get our beloved hostess away," he remarked, dryly. Mrs. Osborne laughed. If the laugh was sweet and ringing, 'i wa'j :iJso incredulous. At the sound of it .Miss \V'ii.;ae Wellwood swung round and ir ^).'c"ed Mr?.. Osborne's un- conscious back. " My, what a gown ! " said she to the girl in serge. " Who's the man ? " "Oh, Van something!" The sergey girl did not care to converse with Miss Wellwood. " American millionaire. The woman's the beauty, Mrs. Osborne. Let go my arm ! Don't grab me like that! What's the matter?" Once more Mrs. Osborne's laugh came high and sweet as she passed, triumphantly leading Lady Lanark away. " Mrs. Osborne ! " repeated Miss Wellwood. She plumped down on a convenient chair. " Mrs. Osborne! That's her? " "Yes. What about it?" " She's a beauty," said the Wellwood, slow- ly; "a beauty. But, my word, she's a fooH " 119 CHAPTER XI A THREATENED EVICTION. Sarah on the narrow hardness of her bed in the flat lay waiting for Jane to come. She sleepily contemplated the long array of her little shoes ranged out on the mantelpiece, re- joicing that she had thought of bestowing them there before it occurred to Jane. Jane had been obliged to put hers under her bed and glare passionately into that dusty bourne when- ever she required a fresh pair of shoes, which she did ten times a day Miss Egerton also contemplated, with content at her own ingenu- ity, the thirty-guinea traveling bag for which she had found a home in the empty grate. " It only takes a little cleverness to be per- fectly comfortable in a flat," she thought, proudly. "Where is that low wretch, Jane? I want the light put out." She climbed over Jane's couch to extinguish 1 20 Clfte Career of jUris. ^jjbome the gas when he was conscious of sharp whis- pering from Adams's room, where Jane had gone to be unlaced. There was something go- ing on ! Miss Egerton nimbly arrived on the scene of action. " What are you whispering for ? And wh^ are you in the dark?" at the top of her cool soprano voice. " Hush, miss, please ! " Adams was nearly in tears. " Shut up, Sarah ! " Mrs. Wilton and her maid stood in pitchy darkness, each holding to a slat of the Venetian blind and peering cautiously out through the slit afforded. "Oh! what shall we do, Sarah? He looks like a murderer! " "What!" Sarah, all in whue, shouldered her sister out of the way. In the opposite window, four yards away, sat a man. He was smoking, and every now and then the glow from the end of his cigar lit up a loathsome face. All three women stood motionless. " He's been staring like that at me all the 121 Cl^e Career of fM* €)0bome evening," shivered Adams, "and he watched the gentlemen go just now half out of the win- dow." " He couldn't see them," Sarah murmured, contemptuously. " He'^ jot a perfect right to sit ::t his own window." " He could, Sarah. They lighted matches all the way down stairs ; he could see them on eve y landing, and he's only sitting there to stare at us." Suddenly there was a sharp rasp. The man opposite had lighted a fusee. The light shone plainly on his face, and it was the face of a beast. The three watchers sprang from the window. " What a devil I " cried Sarah, sharply, be- tween her teeth. Jane threw herself on Adams's bed. " Oh, he's a detective, I know he's a detec- tive! The Wiltons have sent him to watch me ! " She broke into shuddering sobs. Sarah threw her arms round her. " Hush, darling, hush I He's just a horrid man trying to annoy us." Her own heart was beating quickly; she had never seen just such 122 €4e Career of fiixsi* i^ieibome a look on a man's face before. " Adams, the door! " she said, softly, as she held Jane tight. Adams flew to the front door and bolted it. Jane was quiet and Sarah got up and stood be- side the maid in the bedroom doorway. The little entry was only half-dark, for the drawing- room light shone into it from one end. As they stood mistress and maid looked at each other. Someone treading softly on the balls of his feet was coming up the long stone stair. " He's gone," said Jane, with relief. She had got up and was peering through the blind once more. " Brute ! He's gone down his own stairs and in our door, and he's coming up our stairs. Hush, don't move ! " In the silence the soft footfall stopped out- side their flat, which was the top one in the building. Some one knocked. Sarah hardly breathed. Then the letter-box was cautiously rattled. Sarah's wild blood raced in her; she made a step in the entry, but Adams caught her firmly by her white embroidered sleeve. "Don't go out, miss. He can see you!" She spoke very low, but the .nan heard her. "3 ^^e Career of fMk ^isbome "T'ss, t'ss, t'ssl" he called, with vile cau- tion, through the letter-box. " I'm going to open the door and speak to that man ! " Sarah's high voice was low with rage. "To think he should dare!" Jane was herself again. She laid a quiet hand on Sarah's slim shoulder. " Don't move," she said. " Let him knock. Once we opened the door he would be in; we couldn't keep him out. And then if we made a fuss and roused the house, they would believe we had let him in and got frightened afterward. It's this beastly suburb that's the matter. They're not used to people who have visitors all day and go out in hansoms. He has prob- ably seen all our doings, and saw us bring those two men home with us. Oh, why aren't we in America, where, if you amuse yourself, no one immediately thinks you vile? " The handle of the door turned softly, it shook as a strong shoulder heaved against it, but the bolt and the latch held. Presently the foot- steps, treading softly, went away. " I wish he had done it while Mr. O'Hara 124 €4e Career of fiixtL Oieibome was here." Sarah thought longingly of O'Hara's iron muscles. " Not he," said Jane. " Catch him ! They would have kicked him downstairs, too, and we should all have been put in the papers." "Let's go to bed," said Sarah, drearily. " My feet are frozen on this horrid oilcloth. Mr. Hopkins will make us leave this flat if we tell him we've been annoyed, and we can't go to a hotel. You know we can't." " The bolt is strong; he can pound all night if he likes. Come to bed. Don't light your gas again, Adams. Good-night." She followed the shivering Sarah to bed, but their narrow stretchers were not reposeful. They turned and tossed for an hour. Sud- denly Jane started out of bed. " He's at the door again." Sarah stood in the bedroom door, looking into the sitting-room. She had taken Jane's bed at the fly in the efTort to pass her sister, and had bumped her shins successively against every article in the room. " Come back to bed," she said, contemptu- ously. " If he likes to spend the night on our 12S Ctir Cateev of iML i^ttome door-mat, let him. I've cut my foot on your vile bonnet-box." She limped back to bed and fell fast asleep, to dream of earthquakes. It was morning, and the postman's knock was loud at the door. Adams appeared presently with letters and tea. "That's a funny letter!" Sarah surveyed a common envelope with distaste; the writing on it sloped backward, and she despised it. " It's for you. Jane." Jane was drinking hot water; she said tea was not good for the complexion. She felt as languid as her tasteless draught. " Open the thing," she said, listlessly. Sarah pulled a small slip of paper from the flimsy envelope — and stared. Jane snatched it. " This is from a friend. You'd better go away. " Thompson." " I wonder if we had," she said, with cu- rious earnestness. " Go away I " shrieked Sarah. " The man's 126 C^e €atm of faxiL tOfimnt mad. We're away enough, what with those old Wiltons and adorers and things. You can go if you like, but I sha'n't stir." and she de- parted, to be first at the bath that would not run. Her pains were wasted, for Jane breakfasted in bed, to an obligate of discomforting thoughts. Against her will she believed in the good faith of their licsieger of last night. She wished, as the panic-struck always wish, that she had had sense enough to dress and speak to him. She had but just finished a languid toilet and emerged into the drawing-room when Adams announced a visitor. "Mr. Elmslie, mm, would like to see you." "Who is he? "said Sarah. " The agent for the flats. Ask him to come in, Adams." Mr. Elmslie was t .11 and gray, with the man- ner of an auctioneer. Jane asked him to sit down, which he did with an uneasiness the ap- pearance of his chair did not justify. " I have come about a letter," he began. "A letter?" Jane was nobly calm. This 137 C^e Career of inm tf>$teme was not the man of last n'^ht. How did he know about the letter ? •• Yes." He fidgeted. " Some of the ladies in the Mansions have written complaining about — about you.*' " About us ! " Jane turned white. "How interesting!" said Sarah, languidly. Mr. Elmslie glanced at his surroundings; he wished he had not come in person. " In fact, Mrs. Wilton, they have written they consider you too young, and — and cheer- ful. They think it improper — in fact they think it gives a bad tone to the Mansions for two gir^ to live alone here." He had meant to say It > .th elegance, bui he became blunt in his despair. "What impertinence!" said Jane, icily. "Still, Sarah, I am glad we look young; are not you? You know all about us," turning on the wretched Elmslie. " I wonder you took the trouble to come and tell us such idiocy." " I don't see — " Sarah's calm eyes rested on the eirissary who had in very truth been sent to evict them — " I don't see what we can do to look old, except wear wigs. 138 suppose it is mmm !«S! ^If Cte Career of flitn, ^wxnt a lady opposite who ha» been writing about us. Tell her we do not like being starcU at through an opera glass. Tell her wc find it boring. Does she accuse us of anything else but youth ?" " The truth is," said EInislic, slowly, gazing at Jane, who was evidently not wasted on him, " that they don't exactly complain." "What do they do then?" " They simply say that you have no husbands — and many visitors — and " Jane rose — a different woman from the one who had trembled at his entrance. Her head held very high and backward, her eyes half- closed, she looked at him, and then smiled — magnificently. Whatever she had been, she was perfectly untroubled now. " My husband is in India, and my sister is not married. If you want us to go on that ac- •ount we arc perfectly willing. We," with calm insolence, " will leave the neighborhood unpolluted for Miss Wellwood." Mr. Elmslie caught his breath. The letters were suddenly stigmatized in his mind as " d--d cheek." " My goodness ! " he said, incoherently. " I 9 129 m I: < C» Career of jnti, ^$imm wat a (ooi; I might have known. I— I will arrange this affair for you. I underttand these complaints are insults. I will answer them ac- cordingly. I " "Then it is nothing?" "Quite so. Nothing." If she had been a murtlcrcss Mr. Elni*lie would not have cared. All !)c knew wa« thai he had never seen anyone so beautiful in all his life. He Iwweil himself out, sadly conscious that he, as a visitor, would not be welcome at Rossetti Mansions. " And you never mentioned last night and that horrid man!" shrieked the astonished Sarah when Elmslie had deiwrtcd. "I forgot him," returned Jane, meekly. But she Ind not; she only preferred other mcthoils. Last night's letter was no worry to her now, since it was all of a piece with the agent's visit. But if the writer waited use- lessly night after night to speak to Mrs. Wilton on the sta-rs, no one but the night-watchman knew. 130 iM.mr criAPrrcK xii TIIK PALACE TifERR was m escape. Jane wa§ forced to "dine quietly" with the WilKmf*. Sarah was punfjently ignored in tlie invitation, ami she smiletl. "Praise the piRs!" was her low comment. "Don't agitate yourself to explain. I would not enjoy it any more than you will. I am going out. I shall lake Adams. I shall go to the Palace." " Why don't you take an adorer instead ? " "Tliey wouldn't go. Or if they «M-«?^i »* »^ •»»*—», Cl^e €axm of fML tf)jtf»me I 1 cheerful click of wax matches, followed by the little flame and glow as man after man lighted up. It was paradise with the peri inside but unable to enjoy herself. Miss Egerton's sharp eye traveled carefully over the house when the fat and pendulous horror on the stage had dis- appeared amid frantic applause, and the lights were turned on. " There's a woman smoking in one of the boxes. I shall smoke," she declared, cheerfully. " Can we buy cigarettes in the bar, Adams?" It took a good deal to jar Adams. " Certainly, Miss Egerton. Shall I get you some?" " I'll go with you." And she followed the doughty, handsome maid across the promenade and into the refresh- ment place. Adams disappeared into a crowd of men ; Sarah sank composedly on a wide sofa and surveyed the scene. Everywhere were men and girls walking up and down or seated at small tables in retired comers having drinks. Sarah envied none of them. They looked dull, their scraps of talk that reached her were coarse and stupid. Still she was the only woman in 136 C^e eateer of fatiL ^fimnt sight not talking to a man, and it was annoy- ing to be out of the fashion. Not for worlds would she have owned to herself tliat she re- sented the glances of the attached and unat- tached males lavished on her dainty prettiness, where she nestled alone in a corner of the big sofa by the door. Adams returned with the cigarettes, and Sarah rose. They went into the promenade and leaned on the rail very happily while they discussed the house. Suddenly Adams took her mistress by the arm. " Th?t fair man has followed you ever since we came in — he'll speak to you if you don't move. And — don't start. Miss Egerton — I saw Mr. Hopkins behind him just now as I turned my head ! " Sarah glided nimbly to her place as the lights went down, and the fair man retired disap- pointed. Mr. Hopkins hastily decided that he must have had the jumps to have imagined Miss Egerton here alone, and he went down- stairs again. Sarah drew a long breath. "Adams, you are a priceless angel!" she said, solemnly. "One more minute and my situation— heavens! suppose Mr. Hopkins, of »37 ■-*'-*A»(.mt« •'-*.■ ■'--* -'-%*.** ^ •--♦.^^.■•.•. ...jfcfc^.^j. ZJ^t €axm of iHQL iMiartie all persons, had observed me being accosted by a man I didn't know ! After that escape I can venture on anything I " She took a cigarette from the box of Egyp- tians Adams had procured, and leaned back composedly in her chair to a stout Frenchman behind her. He was accompanied by his stouter wife, and when the slim, fair angel in front of him calmly asked him for a light his position was truly appalling. Had he been alone, indeed !— but alas, he was not ! Polite- ness made him produce the match, abject cow- ardice in the glare of his wife's eye made him present it to Sarah in silence. Anna Held came on the stage, and for the first time Sarah took joy in the performance. She laughed softly as she smoked her cigarette, oblivious of Hopkins below stairs and the fair man who stood gazing at her from the prome- nade. The hairdresser next her was more puz- zled than ever. He was obliged to dismiss the theory that she was a little girl run away from the schoolroom, and fortunately the supposi- tion he substituted was unknown to the subject of it. 138 !s«^t~«»^^^^r«^i«l.^«( O^e Caiter of fML iS>iaxmt Sarah put out her cigarette against the opera glass in front of her. "Let's go home, Adams. I'm hungry!" and she yawned. The people were getting up to go. Sarah and Adams went out in the crush, escaping Hopkins by keeping carefully at his back. As they edged along behind him in the bright light of the street door Sarah gasped: "Adams, run/" She seized her by the arm and dragged her across the street, then on at top speed to Pic- cadilly Circus. Neither of them spoke till they were safely on an omnibus, wedged in by grubby, nondescript people. " Colonel Wilton ! " Adams ejaculated. Solemnly Sarah nodded. " Bad old man ! " she said virtuously. She had never seen a pair of opera glasses that had been leveled on her all the evening from a box, nor the puzzled ill temper in a face behind them. A man got up on the omi bus. It was the fair man who had gazed at them throughout the evening. Sarah drew another long breath, this time of annihilated conceit. For 139 ■^SSSmmottaHmtamiaii »-: :i ! 11 iH <; !| () ' I » C^e Camr of jin» ifttfiome the man sat down beside Adams. It was to Adams that he addressed himself, and for the first time in her life Sarah comprehended that mistress and maid were of the same clay. The man was a gentleman and perfectly polite. Sarah found a wicked joy in egging the uncom- fortable and reluctant Adams on to mild flirta- tion. In spite of drawbacks it was evident that the latter could hold her own. Sarah felt like sa} ng " bravo " at every sharp, quiet cut the town-bred girl dealt her unwelcome swain. " I wonder, though, what he would think if I were to sit beside him and talk to his valet." The omnibus stopped at Rutland Gate, and Adams whispered to her. They rose and flew down the steps and disappeared before the fair man realized they had departed. It was dark and there were no hansoms. Miss Egerton, as she trudged along toward Hammersmith in uncomfortable shoes, felt that if ever there was an overrated pleasure it was going to music- halls. But Adams sailed onward, puflfed with pride. 140 CHAPTER XIII A PAIR OP BUCCANEERS The clock was striking nine as Mrs. Wilton toiled up the stairs to her flat. She had told Hopkins that she did not mind stairs ; to-night she was conscious of each step of them. She looked, as she passed the landing light, tired ; exactly as a woman looks who has been out to lunch and then to a garden party, and has hated each worse than the other. Adams opened the door before she had time to knock. " I'm so glad you've come back, m'm," she said, solemnly. "Why? Is anything — " she was so weary that she was petulant — " the matter here? " as if it were the last straw to have anything wrong in the flat. "Those dreadful people who let yoi their flat never paid their gas bill, and the ga: man came this afternoon and said he must havt the 141 MMl HMUb C^e €Bmt of iHrii tf)ibanie i four pound' they owed him. I would not give him all that money." "Did you have u?" Jane's interruption was to the point. •• Well, no/* unwillingly, " I hadn't. So he said he must cut off the gas. And he did." "What about dinner? There was no din- ner?" said Jane. " No, m'm ! Miss Egerton did not come in. I suppose she was dining ou*. My tea," gloom- ily, " I made on the oil stove." Mrs. Wilton was at once aware that she was hungry. It was this, of course, that made her so depressed. " This is too much ! " she said. " I might make you some porridge on the oil stove." Jane turned ungratefully from the sugges- tion. " No, thank you, Adams ; I am too h jry. What I want is dinner." She never .rank champagne; but it came over her now that some soup and .1 glass of it would lift this senseless worry off her. Where on eirth was Sarah? It was not fair of her to be out. 14a t^ Ctmv or fM. Atfionte " Here is Mits Egerton now," remarked the doleful Adams. " Sometimes she brings cakes home with her." " Cakes! " cried Sarah, gayly. " \Vh.it are you talking about cakes for at this time of night? Isn't there any dinner left? I'm get- ting old. The society of a young man no longer makes me oblivious of food." " There was no dinner," announce'. She's his aunt. You knew that." The wea i.jess came back to Mrs. Wilton's face, "^h ght, of all nights, she wished de- vou 'v h it Sir. O'Hara had not known a soul in to V 1 •• V\ i> It we go to Mrs. Osborne's?" said S I ih, i)' kfy. "\\r r ii< I. i;.in', . " She's away. We can't , di)^ You know," irrelevantly, ** I hav< to b» 1 /iltons' most of to-mor- row. . nd au> k\a) , Mrs. Osborne is supposed to ha\c been off at Paddington in the 8.20 train.' " Then she's out of it ! But," firmly, " wc must eat. That Italian place in the Strand — we could go there to supper." " But it's miles from here." " There's nowhere nearer," dryly. " You know that." She spoke as securely as if Re- gent street and Piccadilly had f)ecn wiped out. But Jane only said : " No, tlicre's nowhere nearer." It was odd that after having driven all the 144 die €Mtm of jmv. €>ttonie way in a cab. Jane, nevcrthclcit, should itand brtathku in the entrance of the unfashionable restaurant. '• Come on," urged Sarah. " No one we ever heard of will be here. We're just l*ctwcen dinner and supper, too. The room s half- empty." Jane cast hesitation t) the windn. "Where shall we go. upstairs or down? Down is a la carte." *' Oh, down, if you've got enough money." Sarah's experience of many restaurants had shown her the error of table d'hote timing. But it was Jane's party, so she kindly added a saving clause to her decision. "Heaps!" Jane kept money in little pile^ on the bed- room mantelpiece between Sarah's row of shoes. She had hastily swept a pile of sover- eigns into her pocket just as they were leav- ing that crowded retreat. She led the way straight before her and took possession of a table near the door. Sarah gazed at the electric lamps with soft rose shades on the tables, marked with satia- 10 145 1 ) ii i m ' C^>e Career oC fMk fOfOmat faction her own reflection in the many mirrors, and regarded the astoundingly frescoed walls with keen rapture. " This is my favorite color for lamp shades," she remarked, cheerfully. " I know I shall en- joy my supper." " Thank heaven, I can back myself to order it against any man in London," murmured Jane, piously. She was apt to suffer many things when din- ing with the excellent Hopkins, who liked jointsr — with vegetables. " Cold trout, Sarah, or whitebait? " " Whitebait. Mr. O'Hara always feeds me on cold trout." The head waiter murmured respectfully that one portion of fish would doubtless be ample for the two ladies, who had chosen their wine and omitted soup in a manner that had placed them high in his estimation. " Filet d la Toscano," Jane commanded. " Shall we have asparagus? " " Yes, cold." " And a vanilla souffle. They make heav- enly souffles. And— can we have some straw- 146 :^^ mjsa&^ Ciie Camv of ^nni fDiOnmt berries — with kirsch or maraschino ? Iced, you know." The head waiter did know, and the two buc- caneers sat awaiting their supper. It was early, and there were not many people. They were sufficiently noticeable as they sat discours- ing happily, and a middle-aged gentleman op- posite eyed them with approbation. He spe- cially admired Sarah's exquisite wild-rose com- plexion. "They're not very quick," remarked that lady, ruefully. "Jane, I shall die if I do not get something to eat ! " " Have a hors d'amvre." ** Never eat raw fish ! " ungratefully eyeing the Norwegian hareng. Jane was eating a buttered roll, she did not specially like it, but it kept her calm. " If I could turn pale," wailed Sarah, " I should faint. But you can't expect everything from a complexion that lives in a china box 1 " " Here's the whitebait." Jane divided it triumphantly. There was "ample" for two, as the waiter had prophe- sied. 147 dt^e Career of JML i^itibome m i if Under the gentle influences of champagne and whitebait Sarah revived. She even be- came hilarious. Her dark-blue eyes shoiM starry, her laugh rang out nearly as clear and sweet as Jane's — ^Jane had the most delicious laugh in the world. And Jane, too, sat laugh- ing and talking like a happy child, her mo- dishly dressed hair and her fine hat somehow adding point to the fresh delicacy of her face, the fine, unspoilt lines of her firm red lips. After all, her apptehensions had been no more than hungry crossness. " Don't, don't, Sarah ! " she implored. For Sarah was recklessly flinging away her best conversation and her most cheerful tales on this tete-a-tete dinner with a sister. Could Colonel Wilton, who said sisters always hated each other and talked only before men, but have heard her ! "Oh, Sarah, I am getting hysterical. Do stop making me laugh," Jane implored. She put down her knife and fork on her plate and put her hand in her pocket for a handker- chief. A small pile of coins came out with it and droppec with a clink into her lap. She 148 mmmmmm ssaatm C^ Career oC ffixn. a>fiimnt looked at them absently. Then she started. She thrust her hand back into her pocket ; there was nothing else in it. Every bit of color left her face. She had brought five shillings instead of five sovereigns; she had not enough to pay for their dinner! "Sarah!" " What's the matter? Do you see any Wil- tons?" " Oh, do attend, Sarah ! Have you got any money ? " " Me? You know I never have," cheerfully. " Why? You said you'd plenty." " I made a mistake." The filet was growing colH on Jane's plate. "Look! That's all I've got." She pointed a small, miserable finger at the pile of silver that should have been gold. Sarah dived wildly into the recesses of her gown. Piecemeal she produced shillings and sixpences. " Two pounds," she announced, grimly. " It is not enough." «49 V m Jane drank some champagne. Then she did some rapid mental arithmetic. " It's not enough, not nearly. Oh, that soufB^! Why did I order it? It was only greediness ; we didn't need it 1 " The middle-aged man near by was taking in the tragedy. He gave way to a broad smile of approval at Sarah's calm response. " Well, it is ordered, and I'm going to eat it. When we get to the bill, we can think of wrestling with it. Your filet's getting cold. Jane took up her knife and fork again, but visions of a row and an outraged proprietor loomed large before her. Even the souffle did not give her courage. But the strawberries and maraschino made her bold. " Best strawberries and maraschino in Lon- don one gets here," she announced, as she ate her first. At her third she waxed cheerful, and she was herself again throughout the coffee and cigarettes. It was Sarah who was doubt- ful about smoking without the stalwart O'Hara to back her. " Pouf ! " said Jane, her cigarette tight in her childish mouth as she got a light from the out- 150 z:fyt Cmter of fnt$. fDfimat wardly calm waiter. " They can only ask us to stop. This is the first smoke I've had to- day." She leaned back, placidly happy. They were not asked to stop; no one took any notice of them. " I can't smoke in peace till I know about that bill," said Sarah, suddenly. She un- earthed half-a-crown from a forgotten pocket and gave it to Jane. There was a period of awful suspense ; then the bill arrived on a plate. Jane glanced at it ; Sarah snatched it. "Oh, blessed half-crown!" she cried. " Give me that light, Jane," holding out a slim, fair hand for the spirit lamp. For the bill was just two pounds — they had half-a-crown for the waiter. But when they were in the street it dawned on them that they had only sixpence to get them home. " Hansom, and pay at the house," said Sarah. " No money when we get there. I remem- ber now. I paid the bills yesterday." " The top of an omnibus will be much nicer," calmly. "I've always wanted to go on one 151 1 ■aaiH Mum €9e Caveer of fMk tfHttionie at night. Come on. We'll get one from Char- ing Cross." Jane said nothing. Her mental aspect was clouded again by the vision of a man's face — if he could see them careering madly up the Strand at 1 1 p.m. I But at Charing Cross there was not one omnibus for West Kensington. " We can't stay here," said Jane, desperately. " We must go to Piccadilly Circus in the first one we see, and get our own there." She climbed as she spoke into a dark-green omnibus bearing the desired legend of Chapel Street and Piccadilly. But there was no room inside. With shaking legs she followed Sarah to the top and to the front seat. " Horses are quite good," said Sarah. Sarah was enjoying herself. " We're all good on this 'bus ! " The driver turned round with a drunken leer. " Men and 'orses and girls are all good ! " "Don't talk to him!" commanded Jane. " Don't you see he is a pirate? He's drunk." She picked up her skirts and fled wildly down the steps. " And the conductor — oh, hear the conductor ! " 152 . .rfj"=(---?w~ - TwT Clie €axnt of fML fOfimnt There was no need to draw attention to him. Hit cheerfully intoxicated yells were loud in their ears. " Come on I My 'bus goes everywhere. To hell, if you like ! " He caught Jane's arm. " Hi, miss, you can't get off I If you does we charges sixpence." But she fled by him after Sarah into the crowd. It seemed miles to Piccadilly, and no blue omnibus greeted them when they reached the comer. " We'd better walk to Mrs. Osborne's," said Jane, desperately. " We'll never get to the flat. Come across the street. She might have come home unexpectedly. Anyhow, they'll let us m. The lamps shone down on them bright as day as they waited while the stream of hansoms and omnibuses passed ceaselessly, and for once the policeman lingered before stopping the traf- fic to let them cross. "Jane!" cried Sarah. " Sarah ! " muttered Jane. In a hansom close to them, but driving rap- idly pasv, were Mrs. Wilton and her lord. 153 C^f Ctreer of iKtjk Mbome " Did they know us? " Jane was sick with horror. But she grew worse when she turned and beheld another hansom coming from the other direction. Out of it Mr. Hopkins and Mr. O'Hara gazed straight at them. There was no question of going to Mrs. Osborne's now. Jane grasped her sister by the arm, and they tore across the street under the noses of omnibus horses, but not before they had observed a wild stampede in the hansom, and had heard "Stop! stop!" from its occu- pants. "Here's an omnibus!" Sarah jerked Jane into it. It went to Putney, but that was no matter. There were two vacant seats on the top. From that eminence they descried two men tearing back from the point at which they had succeeded in stopping their hansom. Mr. Hopkins rushed to the omnibus as it started. " No room ! " yelled the conductor. "We'll stand!" "Not allowed," roarc<1 the man, with a glance at the policeman directing the traffic. Sarah looked no more, for the relucta * Hopkins had dropped off the step. Jane w: 154 t:^ Camr of fML fDttmtit too agiuted to speak. Not till they were past the corner of Brompton road did she muster courage to lead the way down from the shelter- ing omnibus into the street. Penniless, weary, for once silent, Sarah trudged beside her. It had been a day of storm. It seemed the mid- dle of the night when they came to their own door, but not even the night-watchman saw them drag wearily into its blessed shelter. Half-W9v up the endless stairs Jane lagged and •topped, by chance she looked out of the land- ing window. Winnie Wellwood's door was open. In the stream of light from it a man came out, and — Jane Wilton's heart stopped beating — the man was Van Ingen I She set her teeth and walked upstairs. V» I5S CHAPTER XIV IXPLANATIONf "jANi," Mid Sarah, half-awake, "Jana!" She Uxktd at the empty bed betide hen; then sat up and stared round the little bedroont Was Jane ill that she was up at half-past seven in the morning? The electric bell ringing as it had never rung in that flat brought Adams at a run. But all her mistress said was : "Breakfast." She had seen a note on her bed. She read it, standing barefoot by the window — perhaps that made her shiver. The note was simple enough : " I've gone out—I had to go. If the Wil- tons come I don't care. I'm done with Wil- tons. Don't go to Mrs. Osborne's till you see me. I may be back in an hour; I may stay there. If I do I'll stay for good." "'Don't care!' 'Done with Wiltons I'" repeated Sarah. " She's madl She can't be 156 etc Cimt of fM. Wtmrn done with them. Oh, I hite Gtorge Wilton, I hate him! Why did I ever let her mirry him? But if she doesn't come back— ' Serah, who never cried, wu crying wildly. " What shall I do? Oh, what shall I do? " She knew Jane could never pay the price of being " done with Wiltons." " I thought it would be fun. But it isn't— funny t" She dressed, at half past seven, because she must be doing something. She was afraid to go out, afraid Jane might come back and miss her. If she had dared be honest with herself she would have said, afraid Jane might not come back. " In an hour," Jane had written. What on earth did she mean by an hour? There were years of minutes, aging centuries of them, and they stretched on indefinitely. By four Sarah Egerton had paid mentally all the price that would bankrupt Jane, the price of being done with Wiltons. At half-past four precisely an impetuously touched doorbell gave a hideous and disquieting shock to nerves that were nearly at breaking strain. "Adams — " she had to moisten her lips to say it— "who is it?" 157 mmm C^ Ctmr of punk Mteme Adunt craned to the gUM of the front door. "Mri. and Miu Wilton, m'm." Something like electricity ran through Sarah. If Jane were done with Wiltons the could tell them 10. decently and in order ; no lilly ichooU girl prank should do it for her. And — there was the oft chance yet; Jane might never tell them. The lister walked back to the drawing* room and sat down. " Truth, mixed with Osbomes, will do the Wiltons," she said to herself, though ten minutes ago she had not cared whether or not there was a Wilton in the world. It was queer how determined she felt this : if Jane must be blamed in great things she should stand clear of small. Mrs. Wilton could be heard now, demand- ing of Adams in breathless gasps if Mrs. George Wilton were at home. The informa- tion that she was not was useless, and Adams, momentarily effaced by the drawing-room door, announced the visitors. Miss Egerton rose to receive them. "How do you do, dear Mrs. Wilton?" Her voice was oiled with the serpent's guile; IS8 Oe €mn or jum. g)iteme ihc kis«cd her connection- in-Uw lightly on both cheeki— yet, kiiMd hert " Quite well I hope? What a bad horie you had in your hansom laM night! I wai ture he would kick bctorc you got home. Do tit here on the lofa. Tea haa juit come in." Mrt. Wilton atood rigid. Sarin was dewv- Ing nothing; the shameless sight of last night had been no delusion. " Where — " she said, hv\ she w.i« forced to pause for the breath horror had kn ;ckeH .)ui of her, "where is Jane?" " I don't know." It was a tnjthi jl answer. " She should be here. She shouUl have come to me this morning with an explanation. She " "She was very tired last night." calmly. " She went out to get rid of a headache. Will you have cake or bread and butter ? " " Do you mean to say," said Mrs. Wilton, slowly, sternly, with a full stop after each word, " that you were in Piccadilly Circus last night, that we really saw you, with our own eyes I Oh, Amelia f " she t* rned her portentous gaze on her daughter. »59 nl mmmm MMN C^e camr of fM^ iftteme Sarah softly and profanely hununed, "Oh, Louisa!" " Of course it was," said she, opening her eyes innocently to meet Mrs. Wilton's store. " Did you think I should say we were not there? Is that why you came to-day? You saw >> I '';' US. " No, no. But Jane," severely, " Jane must be aware that only women of a— a certoin class are seen at night in Piccadilly Circus! " " You were there," meekly. " Passing through, merely." "We did not stay there all night." Sarah laughed; no one would have known it was with iron determination, with a heart quaking for a step that did not come. " What did you think we were doing— camping out ? " Mrs. Wilton opened her mouth and shut it again. She was incapable of speech. Sarah's voice, sweetly raised, lost all that un- called-for mirth. " It was so unfo5 'unate! We had an acci- dent. We were coming home from the thea- tre with old Mr. Osborne and Mrs. Osborne in a four-wheeler, and she became faint. The i6o I >{ C^e Caveer of fML fS>iamnt four-wheeler had no pneittnatic tires. And the driver was drunk I " Amelia sniffed. " Yes, very drunk," with calm asseveration. " We were all obliged to get out, and they took the only hansom we could fmd. Of course Mrs. Osborne had to be got home, and Mr. Os- borne could not leave his fainting daughter-in- law. He was to distressed at having to desert us I We had to come home in another hansom, with a sober driver." Sarah was all the time wondering why she took this trouble to lie to people who to-morrow might be neither here nor there to her and Jane. But the lies were a success. Mrs. Wilton and her daughter were calmed. They ate cake and drank much tea, as their due for the disap- pointment of not finding Jane and at finding Sarah ready with an explanation, even bold with one — for she dared much before they left. Mrs. Wilton said so, with a decent varnish, but finally she and her daughter departed amicably. Sarah, with huge relief, washed off the taste of Wilton cheek, that stung her lips a Judas red, and sat down. The horrible bell rang again. II i6i ■MBMIMWil C^e Career of jftyn fPfOmnt "Mr. Hopkins, Mr. O'Hara," announced Adams. Mr. Hopkins's appearance was as warlike as his unwarlike figure would permit; he wore de- pression and suspicion ostentatiously. But the eyes of O'Hara were troubled. At their glance Sarah's only ray of consolation was that she had on her best and most becoming tea- gown. " We saw you — " Hopkins seated himself by her — '' last night. How could you do such a thing?" He was really glaring at her. "And is your sister not here?" disagreeably. For Hopkins Sarah had cared not at all, and the nameless aggression of his manner roused her to sudden battle. No Hopkins must be allowed to look like that, and so speak of Jane! "Do what?" she asked, carelessly. "I think it is you who shouldn't have done it." " But it was extraordinary — dreadful ! " " Who was dreadful ! There were we, alone, after an adventure with a drunken driver, hav- ing to get out in Piccadilly Circus and forage 162 ,gii_ Mi& Ci^e Career of fHviL ^tfMnme for ourselves. And there were you, two self- ish men in a hansom with a sober driver, and you never even offered him to us." " We would have," Hopkins interposed, " but you ran ! You went on an omnibun — a Putney omnibus." There was blood-curdling tragedy in his tone. " We had no time to ofifer you our hansom," began O'Hara. '* You were so quick, so very, very quick, as if you wanted " he paused. Sarah was regarding him intently. He avoided his doom by that pause. Not so Mr. Hopkins, who rushed on his. " We were sure you did not want us to see you," he said, unpleasantly. " As if we should mind what you saw us do!" Sarah made that "you" scathing. " And why, then, did you come here to-day? " she inquired, with the air of her late visitor. " We were most unhappy last night. We did not like the streets, or the men — they stared at us. But as for you " " Of course they did," said Hopkins, gruffly. " How horrible for you both ! " The " both " was added to appease Sarah ; but he thought of 163 ■Ml C^ Career of fmrn* iBfSbmm bobd, bad men staring at his beloved Jane, and felt quite ill. " And you drove on," said Sarah, softly. " Yon did not care enough about us to get out of your hansom." Her voice was icy. " We had been dining out. w« were very tired, and at least you could have got us a hansom." She thought as fhe said it, *' What fools we were not to stay still and make tbem get one." Tlien she thought it wise to thaw. " And we were a little— a little frightened." Could Mrs. Wil- ton have heard that gentle, cooing voi«! " Your sister goes out a great d«d," said Hopkins, suddenly, " for a person who dislikes it. She refused to go to the theatre with me! " " What do you mean ? " Sarah's eyes were too childlike, too wide. " I mean I was at the Lyceum on Saturday night." "Well," she looked really babyish, "Jane was not, though I suppose she had a right to be if she had wanted to." " In the Duke of Alte-Henneberg's box," dryly, " with three men and no wcwien ! I must say I was surprised ! " 164 Zl^t €dxm of fMi, iDtfbomt "Then you wasted an emotion," returned Sarah, very quietly, " on our cousin, Mrs. Os- borne. Jane would not speak to a man like the Duke; she couldn't because she doesn't know him. But I suppose even Jane can't help what Mrs. Osborne does. Do you imagine she would take the trouble to lie — to you — about going to a theatre? She has no need ! " (With a sis- ter to do it for her. ) " Mrs. Osborne ! " Hopkins gasped. " Was that Mrs. Osborne? Then — oh, that explains it! I — I couldn't get near; I'd no glass; and I never thought your sister could have that man- ner — with a man like Alte-Henneberg. I — can you forgive me for being such a fool?" His countenance had assumed the expression of the villain of a piece when his villainy is brought home to him. Even Sarah was mol- lified by his crestfallen, guilty face. " Oh, what does it matter? " she said. " But last night — we had a dreadful time last night ! I'm — I'm so wretched to-day! " Emotion was in her voice, and O'Hara longed for a screen that he might humble him- self and kiss her hand in secret. Hopkins in 165 C^e Career of fMi* g)ifl»me humiliation was calling himself by every name, when the drawing-room door was flung open — not by Adams. A man, tall, clean-shaven, grimly handsome, stood in the doorway. Sarah, behind Hop- kins's back, clutched O'Hara by the arm. " Go ! Take him away ! " she said, not above her breath ; but he heard. " Go quick ! " To this day Mr. Hopkins does not know why he did not wait for Mrs. Wilton, or for his tea. He was so instantly out on the landing, hat in hand, that he never dreamed O'Hara put him there. He did not look at O'Hara, or he would have seen that he was deadly pale, as pale as Sarah left behind— Sarah, who, as the door closed behind Hopkins's unconscious back, stood staring at the Background! If a mind can jabber, hers did it then. "Here! He's here! What brings him here? What shall I do? What shall I do? " i66 ..-->■ . ..^...a_^„.^jM»^ CHAPTER XV THE LION UNMASKS Old Lord de Fort stared. He put up his eyeglass and stared again ; then he tittered. He always tittered when affairs— other peoples af- fairs—looked involved. The crush in which Lady Lanark was exploiting her visiting list suddenly became so interesting as to obviate the heat of it and the treading on his lordship's gouty toe. "Mrs. Osborne," he reflected, "without Mr. Van Ingen! Mr. Van Ingen, with Miss Delabere! There have been events. Gad! She couldn't have been fool enough to refuse him ! " And he studied Mrs. Osborne's face. It was not as usual, though for his life he could not tell Avhat made the change in it. She had not refused the American prince, or she would not glance furtively at his immaculate 167 ;< .1 Cfimtit \ng-TOom, her gown a heart of color to the lombre gold-embroidered hai^ingt. But for all the red of it she was cold. Jane Wilton would have ortlered a fire and crouchetl over it, regardless that the night was June, and suf- focating. Mr.H. Osborne sat still, a woman in pale scarlet, all alone at a table decked with dull orchids, warm with red light from the shaded candles that flickered in the air fn^m the open window. As she had sat still when the ser- vants were in the room she was still when they were gone — with the stillness of a wild animal that will not stir one way or the other for fear of a hidden trap. Surely there could be no trap for Mrs. Osborne, the reigning beauty of a set that was small because there can be but one top layer of eggs in a basket, f ler beauty was unaltered, her money undoubted. But her lover had not spoken to her that afternoon ; he had spent his time with a girl, though his set ignored girls. It was not what he had done but the reason of his doing it that made Mrs. Osborne's lips hard-set. She looKcd up at the clock, though she knew the time, since her heart had ticked true to 170 C^e €$:tm oC fML OMmntr every second of it. Half*past nine! She would give him till midnight. lie hml never come to her house alone at night, never imin- vited; but if e loved her he would do Iwth to-night. The candle* shot up leaping flame* in the sudden draughts frotu the d(K)r; Mr*. Osborne's heart leaj>ed to match ihem. lc.it>cd almost out of her Ixxly. Yet she only lifted her eyes with a little, slighting glance. " Mr. Van Ingen." said the butler. If the butler was surprised she did Jiot care. Miles was in the doorw.iy, very tail against the brilliant h.ill l)chinilled on the lips of the dead. " An im- poster? I didn't mean quite that. I only meant a woman who had lied about her cir- cumstances, her relations — not herself. Could you love me if I were like that ? " For a moment he stood bewildered ; then he knew it was only anger in her face. He came close to her, masterful, not to be denied. He knelt beside her, his dark, smooth head against her shoulder, his arms locked round her love- liness. 178 Zl^t Cateer of flixn. €>iffxmt ••Don't," he whispered, '•don't! I deserve you to score off me. I was mad to-day, but you've made me pay for what I dared think of you. Sweetheart, don't say any more such things. I know you could not He. I'd sooner see you dead than insult you by thinking you could deceive me in even the littlest way." His voice must have thrilled to her soul, for her hands gripped him desperately. " You couldn't be like that, even for love. Don't you know that women who are liars can't love? They can't be true." " You mean all that ? " Her voice was sharp, iwsijtent. " All that. Don't punish me any more, though I «1eserve it. I've something still to confess. I did doubt you. I went to West Kensington to-day." "Well?" said Mrs. Osborne, as tranquilly as if she had known it. " Well," his clasp loosened as he leaned back to look her in the face, " your cousin's affairs are no business of mine, except that I won't have it said that she lived with my wife. When I ask for Mrs. Wilton, as that cursed woman >;9 C^e Career of fiivn. 0iamnt below stairs told me, and find Miss Egerton, I can't help drawing my own conclusions. Es- pecially when I don't find her alone." Mrs. OslK)rnc got up. She was curiously magnificent ; hci Ijcauty went home to him as it had never done before. All the light in the room seemed centred on her marvelous face, the pale scarlet of her gown, as she stood tall beside him. •' \Jilcs, I want a littL* spade truth," she said, slowly, and her voice was the voice he had heard h-r use only to sa) she loved him ; it came soft and slow like melted lava, as warm and as dangerous. She made no eflTort what- ever to defend her cousm. " You have found your Mrs. Wilton, as you would never have found me. But if I were Mrs. Wilton— I don't mean pour rirc, but really married to a Wilton, a middle-class man in a marching regiment and had come up to town to a poor little flat and written to you to come and sec me, would you have come? Would it have been all like this?" He laughed. He was iMJsotted by her l>eauty, her sumptuousness. The «pade truth was a i8o Cte Career of fKtn. mtmit joke, like the reM of her words, but if she wanted it she should have it. •• I'd have come. yes. Once ' " ** When you had found me surrounded by middle-class relations, a mother-in-law, sisters, what would you have ilmc next? " " ^"« ^way." promptly. " We're talking truth U night ; I'll tell you anything. When I first saw you this year I'd completely forgotten you. If you had not l>ecn Mrs. Osbc to me and go." His kiss was quick— so rnick that it hurt her soul. Miles Van Ingc.i nad made many •cars in women's lives, but he hati scarred one woman's soul. " It's more good-bye than you think. I have to go away to-morrow— not your kind of go- ing away, but really. I won't be back for a week." From the weary, longing sound in her voice she might have said, " I won't be back for eter- nity." She turned to him with a sudden pas- sionate vehemence. " I wonder if you really love me? " He looked at her. He did not like the tone. " Don't expect me to be too constant to—" he paused — " to Mrs. Van Ingen. I am a way- farer. I believe now that no other woman ever i8j i* m i? C)e Career of fML tf)tfiame could appeal to me. Vm new, life is new, and I've got money, and that is good — sufficient for the present — with you." ** Don't tell me bare truths now— don't you know that a man should never tell the truth to the woman who loves him? " " You are not a fool." She stiffened. "The world is my country — this is only an interlude. I shall want to go out from civilization again, to feel the sea. the wind across the prairies, to camp 9ut, to kill things." She gave a little gasp. " To kill things! " she repeated. " I could go with you." ' " No. Then I should cease to love you. I could not see you roughing it — in serge and thick boots. I wouldn't want you then. You aren't calico." "I'm chiffon?" He nodded. Mrs. Osborne was finding things out. The lion was killing himself, and the killing was merciless. He took her hands — he did not no- tice that there was something wanting in their touch. As to the glance of her eyes — ^he did 184 etc €9Xttt Of jfLVfL a>iamnt not see the sword in them. He had left the wilderness of doubt, had reached the pleasant country of certainty, had forgotten that there were enemies. If Mrs. Osborne had looked at him before with worship, she did not do so now. "Good-bye," she said, "good-bye!" When he had left her she rang for her house- keeper. Perhaps the woman had been prepared for the order she received, for she showed no surprise. 185 II CHAPTER XVI THE PASSING OF THE OSBORNES "Jane," said Mrs. Wilton, heavily, "you never told me that your Mrs. Osborne was the Beauty, or that Lady Jane Mandeville is her godmother. Mrs. Osborne cannot be flighty if Lady Jane has anything to do with her." "Quite right," said Sarah, with approval. " Lady Jane is too heavy for flight." Mrs. Wilton merely sniffed. Sarah was too frivolous about the aristocracy — to speak in such a way about the daughter of a nobleman I " That, Jane," she said, pointedly, " explains Mrs. Osborne's success to me. Sarah cannot be expected to understand the undercurrents of English society. When a woman has a mem- ber of the aristocracy for her godmother she can attain anything." Jane started. She looked pale, unlike her- self, and had been staring round her mother- i86 C^e eamt of ftitik tf)tf»nte in-law's room as if she were surprised to find herself once more in that chaste retreat. She said nothing, and Mrs. Wilton put down her knitting and gazed at her. " I really think, Jane, you should have told me. I should have called. Politeness demands something from us. Mrs. Osborne has been so useful to you and Sarah." " She hasn't been useful to me," said Sarah, sharply. "I never could bear herl" She glanced hastily at her sister, behind Mrs. Wil- ton's back, and amended, hastily, "At least, I mean I never could bear her to do anything for me." " Don't you think I ought to call on her, Jane?" demanded Mrs. Wilton. Jane looked taken aback. Her voice was the voice of one appalled as she faltered forth an answer. " I think it would be very nice of you, but you had better wait a few days. Mrs. Os- borne is — has gone away." " It would be nice for you to meet the aris- tocracy," said Sarah. "But she will return," said Mrs. Wilton, 187 €4e Career of fiivfk lOitUome who never replied to Sarah when she could pos- sibly avoid it. " You said you were going to dine there on Monday next. How can you dine there if she is awav? " " We were asked to amuse old Mr. Osborne while his daughter-in-law was away," returned Sarah with a righteous air. " But on Tuesday Sarah said she was taking you both to the play," put in Amelia, disap- provingly. She was the unfortunate possesser of worldly yearnings and virtuous pretensions. '* I said old Mr. Osborne was," firmly. It was Saturday afternoon and very hot. Jane and Sarah had lunched with their relatives on hot mutton and warm custard pudding. Mrs. Wilton always gave them mutton; she said it was so wholesome. Jane had muttered something about leaving early, but her mother- in-law had returned firmly that to go out at half-past two on a hot day was to court sun- stroke, and that a nice rest in a quiet house would do dear Jane good. Dear Jane got as near the window as she could ; the room reeked of mutton fat, and grew hotter. Small won- der, perhaps, that Mrs. George Wilton waxed 1 88 Clie Career of iftrn ^fOmnt paler and paier, as people do from heat and also from hopeless straining after something that will not come. At last— blessed signal of release— tea was brought in. Sarah sat up and grinned openly; even Jane looked as if the worst were past; but not for long. As Mrs. Wilton poured out the tea she also poured lorth on the subject of Mrs. Osborne. " It is of no use, Tane, your trying to put me off calling on her." She spoke suspiciously. " It will seem strange to her that you have no relations by marriage, if you have not men- tioned us; if you have, she will doubtless won- der we have not recognized her. Now don't say any more to prevent me. I shall call upon her on Monday afternoon. If she is away still—" the sniff was openly incredulous — " I suppose she will get our cards when she comes home. Mr. Hopkins also wishes to go." " Mr. Hopkins I " Jane and Sarah spoke to- gether. " Yes; what is so extraordinary in that? I have seen you so little lately that I suppose you do not know he has called twice. He has 189 il ! eiie Career oC fMk ^lOnmt been most polite, and lo interested in Mrs. Os- borne that I have promised to ask her to tea as a sort of recognition — asking you and him also. Mr. Hopkins has seen your cousin, in the distance, and thinks her like you, Jane, but much handsomer! We all know you do not pretend to be a beauty." Sarah's lips quivered violently. She put up her hand and covered her mouth. "Sarah," exclaimed Mrs. Wilton, "how funny yoy are looking ! Just as if you were go- ing to be sf'asick." Sarah emitted a strange sound between a cough and a growl. " I do feel rather ill. I think I had better go home, Jane." " The air will do you good," said her sister, promptly. " Perhaps so," observed Mrs. Wilton. " Well, Jane, I shall call on Mrs. Osborne on Monday." " Do you wish m^ to go, too? " There \. as a queer change on Mrs. George Wilton's face since that mention of Mr. Hopkins. " Or will Mr. Hopkins escort you? " 190 t ^^eeamp or futn. tWmnt "I .hall go alone. Mr. Hopkins meant, I think, to go to-day. He was to be introduced by Mr. Van Ingen." "Mr. Van Ingen is in Paris." Jane drawled, indifferently. " H*» returned thi: morning," briskly. " If you knew him, Jane, you would know that " " Oh I " said Jane. Mrs. Wilton swelled with the triumph of knowledge. " Yes, he has returned. And I owe it to you. Jane, as your only relative of any position AV ^^ "°' '°""* Americans-to give a little fete to Mrs. Osborne and any friends of hers you may have met. Beside^, she has been so useful to you that she might-who knows?- be useful to Amelia. I wonder you did not suggest Amelia to her! She might at least send her brother-in-law, Mr. Howard K. Os- borne, to call." " Did Mr. Hopkins tell you about him, too ? " said Jane, grimly. th«!^°' l'^^' °^ '''"'' ""^ '' '"^^ to me that Mr. Hopkins said " "He merely said, 'Oh!'" pat in Amelia. 191 ■«;■ r r /! f Clie Cftmr of iKnL tf>tf»nie " I knew at once he did tiot think much o( Mr. Howard K. Osborne. He changed the subject." "Of course, my dear Amelia — " Mrs. Wilton beamed — " he would have his prejudices. Be- sides, if I remember, I thought your interest in Mr. Howard K. Osborne a little — a little marked. Mr. Hopkins would naturally resent it." "Very naturally," commented Jane. She wished viciously that Amelia would marry Hopkins ; he might yet be saved as by fire. She stood a minute by the tea table, and it was well that her relations-in-law had never seen her in a rage. " Come, Sarah," she said, " we must go now. Amelia, may I see the Standard for a minute? Oh, you take the Morning Post. That will do as well. Thank you." She glanced at it, and put it down. " Good- bye. We'll see you on Tuesday," she called back over her shoulder, gayly, as she left the room. " Then you can tell us what you think of Mrs. Osborne." Once they were outside she drew a long breath. 192 li ! t»e Ctmt of 0Lvik €>a»tnt " What -re you going to do? " said Sarah, in an awe-struck whisper. •• You will have to do something. Oh, let me get home ! Iculd not stand the strain when your mother-in-law harped on Mrs. Osborne. Come and find an omnibus. Oh, I could kill Mr. Hopkins ! He's a sneak, and we told him about old Mr Os- borne!" "Omnibus?" scathingly. Jane took no thi ught for the sinning Hopkins. " Hansom. Can't you see we must be quick ? I hate houses where they don't have tea till five." She set- tled her thick white-lace veil over her mouth; it was as impervious as a mask, and nearly as stifling. "Hurry!" She waved her parasol with command to the nearest hansom and pushed her sister in. "Morning Post office Wellington street," she adjured the cabman.' " Drive fast," and she sank, down beside Sarah. " I hope," she added, grimly, " that he'll drive like the devil!" " Jane! " shrieked the scandalized Sarah. " Half-past five." returned Jane, irrelevantly. " We'll just do it." 13 193 «ie Carter of fiit$. €>0mi If' " Do what ? Why are you going to a newt- paper office?" " Don't you ice they are determined to go «nd call on Mrs. Osborne ? " fiercely. " I don't mind th,-*', because she could be away. But I v/on't h.«ve that sneaking little Hopkins find m* out! And I know he will, if I don't choke him off by Monday. And we were so nice to him, too I " " We ate his dinners! " said Sarah, with In- jury at his ingratitude. " And he always had joint." " If I'm found out I'm ruined. And I won't be ruined now, with nothing to show for it. I can only think of one thing that will save me. I got all ready for it when Mrs. Os- borne gave I", her house and went away. I thought of it when I paid the butler. Mrs. Os- borne mui. die!" Jane's voice was hollow. " Where ? how ? " demanded Sarah. " She can't. She's too much of a celebrity." " TJjat won't keep her alive. I shall write the notice in the Morning Post office, and if we are there before six it will be in on Monday morning." She dragged out her watch. "Oh, »94 fl( •» etmt af jut* CiHBBtr 1 forgot it wai How. If. ,„ minute, to lix ")*• Tell him to drive f..ter, do I " "But w. cnt kill her." S.r.h wa. .Imot, ^r,ul. ■;Sh.-dbe«.„gryir.h.,oundr Jutt go away ? We can't kill her." " I"" not going to .Uy in bed, thaf. why "»• '•^'•' •"« have anything infection, ii I^^-J-dnt? And the..'. nH.re. Van ingen..' •' But what will you do without her? " " I'm done with her." " But Mr. Howard K. Osborne will have to jro into mourning. He can't take me to thmgs." '• If. old Mr. Cborne who", going to be in ■nourning- gr,m|y. ..s,„h, thi. man i. crawlmg." "Where?" Sarah was always prepared for -nyihmg " Not on top of the hansom ? He'll be killed if he does that." ^ "No, idiot, no!" lookiug forth distractedly. Uh, now we are blocked I " .nTlZ """'" T '^' '°'"'^ "^ ^'^'^' Circus, •nd a stream of omnibuses directed by a policc- '9$ ne €mn of iKt<> €)rtornt nian wat surging pait their horte'g not. Would they never get on ? "We »hall be late. I know we ihallf mooned the miterable Jane, who knew that the mii»mi M pile as If ihe, initcad of Mrt. Oibome, wen death-atricken. That evening Kfri. Wilton tnt reflecting. " It it my opinion," ihe aaid. " that Jane and Sarah do not wi»h ui to know Mr*. Cborne. They are afraid of her taking: "« up. e«t)eclally you. Amelia. Either they are jealous or elie Mrs Oalwrne i» flighty. Ye*, now I come to think of It. I have no doubt Mrs. Osborne is flighty, if not mad. I heard %ht kept the Prince H'a.ting to dance with her till he was so angry he shoot the dust off his feet and went hotne " -vS'»t dust was immaterial. •• I must frnd out. I shall call there early on Monday If only to-morrow were not Sunday! I suppose It would not do to make a first call on Sunday, would it, Amelia?" '* No, certainly net, mamma." Amelia could not be defied. But the hours of the Sabbath were bng to Mrs. Wilton, and Monday morning was welcome. She was still at her toilet when Ameli:. rushed u.to her room bearing a newspaper. "Listenl listen!" she shrieked. 19/ Zt)t career of futfL tDsOxmt Suddenly, of heart failure, at Basley, Jane Osborne, nie Egerton, widow of R. Osborne, Esq.. of Virginia. No flowers. The remaini will be taken to America for interment." "How annoying! how disappointing; how dreadful I" exclaimed Mrs. Wilton. "And I can't send any flowers, which would have been a nice little surprising kindness to old Mr. Os- borne. I could have sent quite a nice wreath for five shillings, or perhaps four and nine. And now old Mr. Osborne will be too depressed for a time to do anything for you, even if he does not accompany the body to America. And young Mr. Osborne will not be able to call, so it is of no use to trouble about sending your father to leave cards in Eaton Place. But—" she hesitated-" Amelia, Providence is all- powerful and so wise. Perhaps it is for the best. Mr. Hopkins seemed unduly interested m Mrs. Osborne." She gazed thoughtfully at the Morning Post. " Basley. I don't know where that is. It seems extraordinary to die there when she could have had her funeral from Eaton Place. She must, Amelia, she must have been flighty." 198 CHAPTER XVII THE BACKGROUND SCORES "Not at home?" said Mr. Hopkins, blank- ly. 'Notat/iom^/ Oh, I suppose on account of mourning." " That, sir," returned Adams, calmly, " and of gomg to America. My mistress starts this evening. I was to say it was most unlikely she could see you before she went." "America!" said Mr. Hopkins, but it was to the shut door. Was it a delusion, or did he hear the voice of O'Hara from the paradise that was denied to him? As he fumed down the steps he decided it was a delusion. As he gamed the street a man jumped out of a han- som, and Mr. Hopkins, too. jumped. " Wilton ! " he gasped. " Why-where~" feebly-" I'm delighted to see you. But you're just m time. Your wife's going to America this afternoon." 199 ^ J ^.^in>r| y.v,. ,«Vv- .■ilW-lf«. i- ft^JiifcBiXivV*^ ;.-< £•.- ■«■ »..i «..!->«, •.!».».. ^ Cl^e €axttt of fM* fDOmnt — ^— — ' " So am I," said George Wilton, calmly. *' Good-day." And he flew up the stairs. As his voice was heard at the door Miss Sarah Egerton seized Mr. O'Hara by the arm. " Kitchen," she said, firmly. " Quick! Oh, thank heaven I telegraphed I " Jane Wilton stood among her half-packed trunks and swayed. "George!" she said. "George!" She looked at him^ as if she had never seen him be- fore. And had she ever seen him before ? Was he always bronzed, clean-cut, hawk-eyed— or had she been deliberately blind? And his clothes, his immaculate coat and boots, his dis- tinguished air as he paused for one second in the doorway. This was the man she had called middle-class and lumped in with his re- lations. This! He had never seemed so de- sirable, so utterly He turned, deliberately closed the door be- hind Adams, and smiled. Mrs. George W ilton backed sharply till the wall stopped her. He would never kiss her again — when she told him. It was better to refuse kisses than to have them denied you. 200 .>•-,- ,— --.i— '. *,--;« ;>it'-;.J< ,- . .i».'^ v.*fl ■^i^'«>.-»4 *''• ZJ^t Career of fnviL tiDisbome " You've never even said you were glad to see me," remarked Captain Wilton, politely. "Aren't you?" How tall he was, and he wore that pin she gave him; and he wasn't a bit like the Wiltons, not like any one of them. And— she had been a fool all her days and now she must pay for it. But glad ! It was all she could do not to run to him and hide her head on his breast. But she stood sti" " Don . come near me," she muttered. For a second his face was blank. " I've— I've been doing dreadful things I I've been telling lies, and being a Beauty, and " " You were always a Beauty," consideringly. "And— I've known you to tell lies. Is that why I'm not to come near you ? " " I've been pretending to be Mrs. Osborne —Jane Osborne— you know," sullenly. " You don't know all I've done. You wouldn't be here if you did." " It's just what I would be," composedly. " Fve always wanted to see a murderer. Come here, Mrs. Osborne, and let me look at you." "You know! Who told you?" 201 ill 1i ?*.**^'v?!'*"-'*"'*'****^*-****'^'A»,i^'»-*»^>V%-?** . I i I 1 ■ii i Ci^e Cateet of fML a>iamnt " Well," calmly, " it was Sarah. She kept writing and telegraphing till I thought I'd come home. I came overland from Marseilles, and she thoughtfully kept me amused all the way by telegrams. She sent a frantic one to the Metropole this morning. I think it was about America." He moved toward her, but he did not look at her. " I think," aflfably— and this did him credit, for he was afraid of something ih her face — " I know all your crimes." " You don't," she muttered. " You don't. I got frantic at The Cedars ; I got tired of you ; I — I went up to town and was Mrs. Osborne because Miles Van Ingen was in London, and I wanted to see him and make him think I was grand." " I hope he did." " George, don't laugh. Be angry. But you will be in a minute. I — I thought I always loved him ; I never could forget him, he was al- ways a shadowy third between you and me " " And did you find him a substantial one? " quietly. Jane straightened herself desperately. 202 (I M i l > i nm *Ji«-. ^•«M»**-~»«-*»«'^ t-»---f--flM»--**Ji^ •'■*»H« ,.•.*. V i-. r C^e Carcet oC fiM, iMbome George Wilton, son of Colonel und Mrs. Wil- ton of The Cedars. " But," said Mrs. Wilton, humbly, half an hour afterward, " some one might come in— and you're sitting on Mrs. Osborne's clothes. And I want to know what we are going to do I don't suppose I can stay in London." ♦' It mightn't be exactly wise," cheerfully. " Suppose we go to New York. You know you really ought to square it with Jane Os- borne. She may hang you, of course, for kill- ing her, but " " I've squared her. She knew all along, ex- cept of couri^ tnat she had to die. I never did anything to get her into trouble, really; that was the reason I kept away from the American Minister's and wouldn't be pre- sented." " Good heavens! " faintly. " I— I mean you were extremely prudent." " And Mr. Van Ingen," she stammered over the name she had been wont to swear by, " ne .er saw her." " He'll be pleased when he does!" Neither knew which laughed first. 204 Cl^e Caveer of fML iDittmnt ** George, she's a dear, and old Osborne did feave me a million. But oh, her figure! " " I was thinking of her nose," meekly. " Oh, Jane!" " And I've spent an awful lot of money, be- ing her. And George " "What?" " Winnie Wellwood lives below us." " The devil she does! Good Lord, we'll go to New York at once. For goodness' sake, Jane, let me get at the packing." " I suppose," said Sarah, leaning against the kitchen sink, " we can go back now. The front door's wide open, and Adams can't adorn the landing forever." "Two minutes more won't hurt her." O'Hara leaned against the gas stove; it was well that the thoughtful Adams had put it out. " You've never answered me." " I can't." It was a desperate Sarah, with a hard-set mouth. " I'd have to tell you things, and they'd be dishonorable if I told. And if you knew them, you wouldn't " Mr. O'Hara lounged a little on his well- blacked support. 205 if ■ iaante "If you mean about Mri. Osborne," he said languidly, "I've Icnown all along; ever since the Astons' dance. I had to go— couldn't get out of it; and I saw her. I suppose she died to get the change out of Van Ingen. He wasn't fit, you know, to black her shoes. I always knew she'd find it out. I'm very fond of Jane," sweetly. But Sarah was speechless. "I rather helped, too." O'Hara had left the stove. " Dearest Sarah, you don't know what a struggle it was not to stay behind, the day Van Ingen came sniffing round here, and punch his head. And then there was Urm- ston." Sarah's teeth really chattered. " After that night, you know, I met him. And he was rather nasty— or he tried to be! I shut him up, and — he called me Captain Wilton." "What— did— you— do?" She was white with shame. * "Oh, I'd never shatter a healthy illusion," calmly. " I'd have played up to being the Czar if it would have helped you. I knew what you'd been doing, if no one else did. I thought I'd help you save the show," simply. 2GO !^ . C^e Career of fiitn. fDfimnt ^^ " Billy, I love you." said Sarah. lolwinly. "And I'll tell you now. Aunt Adela Egerton brought us up on thin bread and thinner but- ter, but she fed us. and she sent me to school. She kept Jane at home to write notes and mend lace and feed the prize poultry, and that was how Jane knew Mr. Van Ingen and I didn't. And Aunt Adela's daughter was named Jane, too. She had only one; she was nice and fat. and hated her mother, and ne -er stayed with her. She made a grand marriage, and the man's name was Osborne. He had heaps of money, and when he dird he left us a lot I always thought his wife made him; she liked Jane. But what put it into Jane's head to be her was Newport. Aunt Adela took us there, just after her own Jane's engagement was announced; and for two days people fell over each other being civil to the wrong Jane. And then Aunt Adela aired herself, and the bubble burst. But Jane had found out the dif- ference, and I suppose she thought she'd like to be some one again. She— she wanted to en- joy herself," fiercely; " she never had had much of a life, her money came too late. Mrs. 207 J i i! tJ9t €mn of 0u$, Mbam George Wilton, in Eaton Place, with row* of VViltona glaring at everything ihc did— well, you can see for yourself that Dick Osborne's widow, with Dick Osborne's fortune, wouldn't be quite as pale a joy! But I never liked him^" incoherently—"! knew she wouldn't either, if she had her head. There were little things, I can't tell you— but he loved Mrs. Os- borne, not Jane." "What I" O'Hara let her go suddenly, "what on earth is that?" " It's a woman I " gasped his beloved. " Oh, move! It's the Wiltons— they can't come in— George and Jane may be fighting! Besides, they don't know he's come home." She flew to the door, with O'Hara, big and burly, behind her, and stood appalled. In the front doorway stood Mr. Van Ingen; behind him, the worse for wear and striving madly to pass him, Miss Wellwood. " Is it true? " said Van Ingen. " What does this woman mean, if it is? " "True, that she's dead?" shrieked Miss Wellwood, contemptuously. She dived under his arm and pointed to the open door of the 208 C^ Career of futn, Ogliome I drawing-room. " Let me go in and look. Mw her, I tell you. last night." "Go away, you nasty wretch!" gas|)ecl the sturdy Adams. " How dare you come here? " " I want to see Mm. Wilton. I know she's here— and Thompson," wildly, " won't si^ak to me because he says I told him lies about her. Let me in." " Did anyone ask for me? " said a blind and manly voice from the drawing-room door. "Or was it my wife?" Miss VVellwood's arm dropped paralyzed; the released Adams reeled against OHara's legs, and incidentally bumped Sarah violently. " Vou!" said Miss VVellwood. She forgot all she had come to say, all that had made her waylpy Mr. Van Ingen when kind chance showed him passing her window. " Oh, my I " And with a swift gesture she caught up her purple plush tea-gown, turned cowering from Captain George Wilton, and fled downstairs. " It ain't she," she said, breathlessly, to a man who stood below, who had once signed himself " A Friend " to Jsne Wilton for sheer joy in her lovely face. " It's just Mrs. .Wil- 14 209 £^:M»f;aa^sy:?:r-»cr.--*i.- : C^ Ctmr of iRfi. Mbome H t ton, and if I'd known the wii hit wife I'd never have looked crooked tt her. He wouldn't let her play no Mri. 0»bornei/* Mr. Thompson ceaicd to regret he had let het paw him to go up. He auisted her lome- what grimly to her door. Hii profettion led him to the haunts of the rich and great, of late to the control of Mr. Van Ingen'i sublet. He stood a m ! r^ i' Miss Sylvester's Marriage BY CECIL CHARLES Miss Sylvester, the niece of a society leader in New York, has some of the wild blood of the South American Span- iard in her veins, and she is fascinated by Count Geratdina, a daring adventurer, who claims to be worth millions as the beneficiary of a pearl-fishery concession. The story of their sensational marriage and its strange results is told with great realism and admirable art. Illustrated by W. Sherman Potts Cloth, Svo, $i.oo THE SMART SET PUBLISHING CO. 452 Fiftli Avenue, New York \ !\ The Vulgarians BY EDGAR. FAWCETT In this «tory the aothor hu achieved the best ezpretaion of bis genius. Parvenu* of immense wealth are here made real before the reader, and not only real, but lovable as well. The story is at once ingenious and simple, enter- Uining and profound. It is a most valuable picture of American life, drawn from facts, and must stand as an important contribution to literature. nX^inA^ry'" ^""""'^ ''^''" "^ Boohs.-^'lt it . bright. -.i^f? *'<"■* -y*"*-" In N«w Vork thejr (tht vulgarians) fared better, and the reader may be Interested in obaervlng how it. civUUiDg tafluence traniformed them, and how. with the aMistance of a charm. Ittg woman, they were tteered clear of many pltfalla." ^^A^f^HiZ'^V* ^'It" '^•L'» "'w* '•"■'y ''•°™ 'he West who already had money enough to make them comfortably happy, and when nnespectea fortune dropped down upon them, were awed with their own Importance and fell, at all neWly rich, that they inuat necei^ wily make a splurge. The book relates a «tory very "ommr a in thla country, and is enteruinlng." «.uui"i a m «v.u'?C***"' /)/>/a/<:A^~"He ha* painted for ns, too. his ideal of a !S^ i.v'lu'"^.*,"^*'^ ^°^y^ woman, of courie) who is not a vulgarian of either the Western or the Eastern type." Grand Rapids Herald. - " Young parvenus, who, like Lochlnvar, came out of the West,' are those of whom Mr. Pawcett writes, and his sympathetic touch Is nnfalllng; yet there is an underlying cur. rent of humor that Is delightful." / • «■»• nJfliJ^^'I"!"'"'-::"!^^ reader will not lose interest from the afterST '•* ' **'^* admirably to pass away a Summer utf'^'ij"^ ^H'^"*. ^*f*--" A characteristic story of Summer life. The plot is full of excitement." _».£Sf v''"'"l ^""^-^ Edgar Fawcett has produced many novels wlich have been perfect pictures of certain phases of life, but In ^•Vulgarians,' his latest story, his art becomes almost photo- lliustrated by Archie Qunn, $1.0O THE SMART SET PUBLISHING CO. 452 Fifth Avenue, New York City 'mmm "— ' « ■ ■ **> m s m mt m m m I, A PURITAN WITCH otf l^pmanHc Lovt Story Autkor cf»TIU Wtmam tfOrtkldti' ttt. \S THMLLIWG TENDER ABSORBIHG This is a romance that abounds in the best qualities of the bent fiction : action that is essen* tial and vigorous, sentiment that is genuine and pure, a plot that is new and stirring, a setting that is fitting and distinctive. The artistic con- ception of the story happily unites realism and romance. The reader's interest is aroused in the first chapter; it is increased steadily to the climax of a happy ending. THB ILLUSTRATIONS ARE PROM DRAWINOS IN PNOTOQRAVURB Crown 5vo, Cloth, $1.Z5 THE SMART SET PUBLISHING CO. 452 Fifth Avenue, New Yofk Ctt/ The Fi jhtin j Chance TMC ROIiAISCC or AN INQ^UC 5y Qertradc Lynch The itory is a modern romance dealing with prominent public characters in Washington political life, depicting a vivid picture of a phase in the life of an honest statesman. The theme is treated with great skill by an author whose personal experience enables her to write lumin- ously of department life. The love interest in the story is fascinating, while the plot is abso- lutely distinctive—as original as it is satisfying. COMMENTS OP THB PRESS — * ^'ff* ^"'•— " A clarwlf writtra ttory and hM lomt fln* eh«r- Mttra. JV. Y.Jommal.-^rYi» itory ta M intMMtins u It la valuabta." Smit Lmka TrOumt.—^ A fla« ttory." i-*-£fi'f .2i**Sf!l gooa atory. »^T^J!J^J.'~^9!^* of thoaa dalichtfnl eoffl«diat In which the 22io2/^-'i**'£' ^'^.SS"**!* •".*"?* •>* tl>a ■canea aad eharaetera SSii.^2I?*i.*"EK2L?.*"V?U 7^* •«*'<« la clevwly dnunaUc and tha a w ioaa r iant ia akilfuUy bald In aaapanaa." iH Illustrated by Bayard Uonea Crown Avo, Cloth, 91.25 THE SMART SET PUBLISHING CO. 4S3 FIftta AveaiM, New York City . — — -^ ir ^ j. |^ i ' «i n iiii< i n » Perkins, the Fakeer Aa AmuAlag TnivMty oa Rtlncanuttoa BY EDWARD 8. VAN ZILE A Yankee, after long residence in the East, haa become an adept in magical arts, and on hit return to America amuses himself by occult pranks that involve innocent persons in appalling dilemmas. The author's humor is distinctive and unfailing; tho plot is absorbing. The book does not contain a dull line or a sad one. N*w York 5mm.— "Th* rMdar majr b« aiturad that ha will b« MBHMd and antartainad." Ntw York Amfricam.—*' Mora than witty and mora than waird, whita It combines both thcaa qualities and many more." Pkiladotfkia Xteord.—'* Cleverly told, and the volnma capably anaota ita allotted r61a of fumlahlng light antartalnmant (or tba raadar." St. Louis RofuNic.-" A lattch Invariably accompaniaa tha raad* ing of nearly every paragraph."^ CUvtUnd /t*eordor.—"Tbt ttory ia a moat otiglnal ona." Towm ToM'cs.-" I ballad them with joy for their originality and irreaiatlbla drollery." Troy Pross.—'* Ptrkims, tk* Fakt*r, usaa his powara In ao alam- Ing, as well as an amusing, manner." Omaka VYorU-HoraU.-*'' In this honr of the waarisoma ao.«allad ' historical novel ' it is a relief. Indeed, to come to know the fasci- nating i^r. Ptrkins." ToMo B/ad*.—'^Th9 talaa are amusing, and if they wera plays, would ba biUed aa slda-splittara." Illuttnfd by HY. KMYER. $1.00 n»f. THE SMART SET PUBLISHING CO. 452 nfth Avenue. New York City .:rr "Reveries ™«5^' DEAN. of a Widow." Prlo«. Cloth. 91.501 P«p«r. 50 Vbil 'iUvMlM of « Widow." . ri^!'rtl?iU*™*^^°*,"*^ brilH»nt flashes of wit and love "Retv can.cloa.Iy love. him. b^L'Si ^'U % e^iif^rantcS": -_ to booka keopa || or w|tl procure II lor you. or it will be aent poatpUd. on r*c«ipt of prio*. by THE SMART SET PUBLISHING CO. 4»2 Ptfth Avenue, New York Qty li ^ait- ^ ,0> . m m ><^ •• A Successful Book .. Nigger Baby ...AND... Nine Beasts Bf ALMA FLORBNCB PORTER LoTCfft of Aninub crrnrwhcrc Iiatc txp:tmtd thdr «ppfceUtkm o* (:i dAlnty* iaiciiutinf ▼olumc of Minutl itoffka. The stories are beautifully illustrated by Gustave Verbeek, and handsomely printed on hand-made, deckel-edge paper, with cloth binding, illuminated cover and gilt tops. Your newsdealer has it or will secure it for you, or it will be sent postpaid on receipt of price, $1.50, by the THE SMART SET PUBLISHING CO. 4f3 PIftk AvtaM, N«w York CItj LoYcLcttcrsofaLiar By MRS. WltXIATI ALLBN IN gntMCiil. MdMt phrMM. m AoMricM nua woom bb AoMiioiB girl tfrfttokrllf. Tbn Icttort w«r« flrat prtotad ia Thb Smast 8bt iMt 8tptraib«r, and thiu Mt«4«t« "An Bofttthworaaa't Lov« Utttn." which they imiDMtarably MrpMn In Btyl* and inttrttt, being at cntp aad poiatad aa thair IngliBh rootina ara prolia and rambUag. Lo^an can Uarn much from tbam. BfTHUflAfnC MIM OMNMitt ton. A»(or-nriMLiir\'-niMi«n. tiMy un ««llkiMiir mtoMf toMlMv ur womaa unui UiU wrtlw am lUaucU (stM to U« protMUttM*. TM WMhiMlM fMt-Ia U fairly McwsM ptctanol tlMavtrap* ti».rutaMaki* ■•««» AMrt. •w —Mrt. AliM tet tuTMil Ml • d«f«r ften of iltofalon-a voiuao tiMt will tuiia M OM of tiMllMrar* pMUplMtof tho MUOR. TiMbook •M MM givoa vof y praMy buidia(. Aray m4 Ravy ioaraal — it atory, Uttono('aLlar''Ua ', toUi In kr nlf ambmo rtto aacrtHfr ambitioa, maota ..-- ...jbitlc -t4ft pwMy. It U a - .-. rohuM vhldi caii,bo nii at a Itlat MM la vortli nadlaf. fMt lorfc WorM-An tito »otM la tafKiif ,abmH - Tho Uvo Lottan of M tacHaliwoK ^ Sit thoy do aot M w oa r o wtiu , ivt Lottora of a QaT-' la k^i. . . ■aowlodga of ■M aad tia wacia, aad tiMir darlag . ~ of iiio wofia-ooraMt la tKo p iraaitof whatovarobiact hodaoRMd aaioatlalto hja ova wailata a«a hap- plaaaf, MaadfaatI* latoat oa tho ac> coBiplliliinaat of Ua own aad. n* AtlaaU CooiMl8tloa-T>io Slot of tho mattar . kta forai of proaaa- tiion and tha intonail* of theocbt ssiS5S!fs?tttaSdr •**'''' Bxqaiaitaly printad on thick dackal-adga papar with flaa* Ibla, imitation-laathor cover. S
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