w y IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT^) 4^ ^. 4^ i^ .^ 4> *^5i-^ -^ V ^ 1.0 1.1 IM ^" u Li 123 S U£ 120 KjhIh 150mm 6" APPUBUA IISA^rSE . Inc ^^B lasSEMtMrinSliMI .^■^ noctmlir. NY 14008 USA .^KM. '*'*«*•: 710^82-0300 ^^^^B Fu: 711 O f MS. AwMd mwg*. me. M NgM Nwwvatf <«^ ^^ ^ ^, x> ^ '^^ ^A 4|^ 4fS .J^^ _^lll ^\^ ^ CIHM Microfiche Series (IMonograplis) ICMH Collection de (monographles) CanMNan Imtitut* for Hittorieal Mierorsproductioiw / Institut canadiM cla mlcroraproductloM Matoriquaa Tlw ImMtitM hm t im m ^ tti to ( flw InV I^^IBN M ^HS OV ffNNHR^ MV D D COIIV8ftllf9 #1 Cowf i □ CoMri rMMni Mi4/ar laminMid/ CoMvwtura rMlMifto m/om piMIC MU t □ CoMT tMa MMn«/ UtHradai |~~n Coloyrad iMpt/ I IcwiMi CotoMrad ink (i.«. ortiar than Mua or Mwfc)/ (i.t. Mrtrt 4«M Wmm ou neira) \~~7\ ColoMrad Lvl|Ener.dt n □ boyndwith< RdMavMtf'i Colovrad plalH and/or illustrations/ Planeltas at/tou illustrations an eoutour oHiar malarial/ Mnras oocunMnii r^ Ti#it biniku may cmim ihadown or distortion La rtNiirt Mrrte pmrt fltotortion la lofif oa la daTomlmoudaia n n ourinf rastoration miy i wilnin tiia taxt> Whanavar possiMa, tliasa nava Man oMittao froni filming/ II sa paut 9ua canainas pafas Manchas aiouttes tors d'una rastauratien apparaissant dans la taxts, mais. lors^ua cala Hait possiMa, cas pagn n'ont pas ata filmaas. Additional commants:/ Commantairas supp liw antairas: This itam is f ihnad at tha raduction ratio chackad balow/ Ca documant ast film* au taux da rUuction indi^M ei-dassous. 10X 14X tlX a 7 12X liX 20X L'Institut a wi ar o f ilwi* to MaMpi \ ^ftk sofvt pawt^tfa tmodtftor taxifwuna ito ^'il r~|coio« Wiz ColPMiad papas/ rastorad and/or laninatad/ rastaurtes at/ou paNieuMas HnpBS discowurad. stiinad or foxad/ N|n dteoloria s . tachatits ou piquias Q EShomrthrouih/ Transparanea Quality of print varias/ Qualiti i n iials da I'imprassion □ Continuous pagination/ Pagination eontinua D Inchidas indax(asl/ Comprand un (das) indax Titto on haadar takan from:/ La titre da I'an-tCta proviant: □ Titto paga of issua/ Nga da titra da la I |~~1 Caption of issua/ I 1 Masthaad/ liwaison Titra da depart da la livraison Masthaad/ Gtofciqua (piriodiquas) da la livraison 22X 26X 30X 24X 28X □ 32X Hm copy filmMl hf has iMan raproducsd thanlM to tha g«n«rMity of: National Library of Canada L'axamplaira fUmi f ut raproduit grica * la g«n4roaMda: BIbllotMqua nationala du Canada Tha Imagat appaaring hara ara ttta baat quality poatibia conaidaring tha condition and lagibiUty of tha original eopy and in kaaping with tha filming contract apaeificationa. Original copiaa in printad papar covara ara fUmad baginning with tha front covar and anding on tha laat paga with a printad or illuatratad impraa- aion. or tha bacic covar whan appropriata. AN othar original copiaa ara filmad baginning on tha firat paga with a printad or illuatratad impraa- aion, and anding on tha laat paga with a printad or illuatratad impraaaion. Tha latt racordad frama on aaeh microflcha ahaH contain tha aymbol — ^ (moaning "CON- TINUED"), or tha aymbol ▼ (moaning "END"), whichavar appiiaa. Laa Imagaa auh^antaa ont «t« raproduitoa avac la plua grand aoin. eompta tanu da la condition at da la nattat4 da l'axamplaira film*, at an conformM avac laa conditlona du contrat da filmaga. Laa axamplalraa orlginaux dont la couvartura an paplar aat imprimte aont filmAa an comman^nt par la pramlar plat at an tarmlnant aoit par la darnMra paga qui eomporta una amprainta d'impraaaion ou dlNuatratlon. aoit par la aaeoiid plat, aalon la caa. Toua laa autraa axamplalraa orlginaux aont filmte an common^ant par la pramMra paga qui eomporta una amprainta d'impraaaion ou dlHuatration at an tarmlnant par la damMra paga qui eomporta una talla amprainta. Un daa aymbolaa aulvanta apparaftra aur la damMra imaga da chaqua microflcha, aalon la caa: la aymbolo -^ aignifio "A 8UIVRE". lo aymbola ▼ aignlfia "FIN". Mapa, plataa, charta, ate., may ba filmad at different reduction ratioa. Thoaa too large to be entirely included in one expoaure ara filmad baginning in the upper left hend comer, left to right end top to bottom, aa many framae aa reauired. The following diegrama illuatrate the method: Lee eartea, planchee, taMaeux. etc., peuvent ttre filmte k dee taux da rMuction diff«rent8. Loraqua la document eat trop grand pour Atre reproduit en un aaul ellch«. II eet film* A partir da Tangle aupMeur gauche, do gauche A droHe, et do haut en baa. en prenant la nombre d'imagea niceeaalra. Lee diagrammae auhranta illuatrant la mAthoda. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 By EGERTON CASTLE YOUNO APIUL. THl UOHT OF SCARTHBY. MARSHRBLD THE OBSIRVZH. CONSEQUBNCeS. THE JBRNINGHAM LBTTBM. INOU8H BOOK-PLATES, A«c:«r «„. Monaw. [Wmurtttd.^ SCHOOlls AND MASTERS OF FENCE. "«• Tw MwKs Aow -n -m Nira- Twmi CnrrmiT. [Ohttrmtd.'X " ROMAN DU PRINCE OTHON With AGNES CASTLE ^ ( Mn. Egwtoa CMdt ) I [ THE PRIDE OF JENNICO. ; \ THE BATH COMEDY. I ! ™E HOUSE OF ROMANCE. j ; THE SECRET ORCHARD I 'AH, VOU DON'T KKOW WHAT A HA» FEEW BETOBE STCH A BEiMo AS Toc 1 ' "—Page 25s. r The SECRET ORCHARD By Agnes V Egerton Castle Aothon of •• THE PRIDE OF JENNICO." "THE BATH COMEDY," "THE HOUSE OF RO MANCE," itc. Illmttrated by Charles D. Williami Thtrtftre sbtll tbty tat #/ tbt Aiif »f tbtir twn way. — PtovEtn TORONTO McLEOD & ALLEN MCMl -s,-. 34-3 mi CONTENTS BOOK I — AFTERNOON •• tttin mutrs mri mnt^ m4 krt»d Mn bt setrttk fhtuml, M»t he hmtih Mt tkat tht dtsJ sre thtn, tmd thtt btr gaettt 0r«iatk« Jifik ffhtti.** — PKOvnM. Cmaptik I - Chaptui II ,- CHApria III ,^ Chaftii IV jy Cnaptir V \ -. Cmaptir VI ^ ChaptikVII ^g ChaptuiVIII 5y Chaptbk IX g^ BOOK II — THE EVENING OF THE DAY •• Md thy htiHun thtt is tptrihy hesd sh*U ht hnus, tmi tht ttrih thMt it mdir thtt $hM ht *-<»."— DivnaomMT. Chattu X oj Chaptu XI loa CONTENTS CHAFTiaXII '*• CMArrnXIlI .....,.'**' '^ CmaptmXIV .......****'** CHATTiaXV .......'**'** CNArraaXVI .......'* '^* CNArriRXVII ......** '*^ Chaftie XVIII 'f^ ciiaftmxix : «7» BOOK III.— A WEEK LATER wtre mtmiigf — DnrrkKOMOiir. CNArrnXX ChattirXXI .......'' CHATTtKXXII. .......*' **^' Cmato* XXIII .......**' "* ChattirXXIV .......'* ^'' ChaptuXXV *^° CHArmXXVI .......** *^* CHAnnRXXVII . . ... *^' CHArnft XXVIII ....!..'* *t^ ChattirXXIX ...... *f^ CwkFTMiXXX. . . , CON TENTS ^ CaAPTiftXXXI •••••••• 170 CMArriRXXXU ' CMArriKXXXIU . . . alo Cnaptu XXXIV alo ChaptuXXXV 1 ... 195 BOOK IV.-THE LAST EVENINGi AND THE DAWN ♦• lUtrtd $Hrrttk af strft. Sat kat etatrtti ail siat.** — CHArrtm XXXVI -q, CHArrsm XXXVII . . lol Chaptir XXXVIII • . . 315 Chaptir XXXIX ......!!.. jao Chaptir XL .^^ Chaptir XLI „, 33« THAT DAY MONTH Chaptir XLII ^ BOOK I—JFTERNOON " Stolen witen are sweet, and bread eaten in secret is f^^<*nt. But he knmveth net that the dead are there, and that her guests are in the depth of >W&"~Prov»b8. « THE SECRET ORCHARD CHAPTER I SILVER and gold lay the landscape beneath the terrace of the ChSteau de Fitzroy. this golden month of September, this golden hour of the afternoon. The fields of La c* M- .. .^''^^^'^^^'"^""J'ght, the wooded slopes of fl.UA?" ^u""'^ ^'''"^>' *"'"'"" y«"°^. ««Ited into the delicate hazes of the vaUey where the Seine shimmered distantly, stream of burnished silver be- tween the dim silver of its banks. In the far back- ground, just substantial against the unsubstantial sky line, poised like the last fantastic touch of a romantic painter, rose the ruined arches of Marly aqueduct- Tnl ??7'"^. *'''"^«8:«««<^ of the Roy-Soleil. It completed a picture which in its exquisite unreality, hke the dream of a Claude Lorraine, expressed by that past-mistress of all art. - living Nature herself With a hasty yet a heavy tread, the tread of busy- minded, vigorous middle-age, Dr. Lebel came running Z.t f "' T ^^^ *^" garden-paths below, and emei^ed upon the terrace, -truly a most unromantic Through large-nmmed spectacles he flung one swift * ■ -t*»-r'*ir' m Mi ■ THE SECRET ORCHARD look around him. and noting with impatient disap. pointment the empty wicker chairs, the deserted work-table, paused, snapped his fingers, and clacked h» tongue. Then he glanced up at the facade of the house. aU mellow in the sunshine that, year in year out, had gilded it since the days of Louis XIV • Luciennes, the most genial, the gayesMooWng surely of those too few " stately homes " of old France left unt iiit led by the furious, indiscriminate zeal of the Revoiution. Gone is the pleasaunce of Marly: nothing left to recall its spkndid elegance but the marble-lined basin now used as a horscrpond. Gone is the palatial man- sion of Sceaux: its very site lost amid pteughed fields and pastures, a few scattered statues, once the pride of its wondrous gardens, now serving as boundary-marks to peasant estates. Gone is Choisy- Ic-Roy, the miniature VersaUles. Gone and forgotten every ancient seat of the gre«it nobleise within strik- ing distance of turbulent! xcept by what seems almost a freak of fiite. this chftteau de Fitzrcy, or " Luciennes," as it is more generally known from the name of the nearest village. On the crest of the western hills, midway between the heights of VersaiUes and the forest of St. Ger- main, within tiir*t leagues of the bastioned walls of fte capital, Ludennet sits proudly, rare specimen of tte country mansi n such as old France loved to build; not only unmolested, but unrenovated and (yet more admirable fortune I) stiH in the hands of the family for which it was erected. THE SECRET ORCHARD A simple and noble building rising to two lofty floors under a slate Mansard roof; lying between its court of honour and its terraced garden, in the middle of a park laid out two centuries ago by Le Ndtre, Louis the Great's own great gardener. Most of the long windows, under their heavy stone pediments, stood open ; and muslin curtains, lightly swaying to hardly perceptible airs, spoke of lofty and cool-breathing rooms within; upon stone coppices, in and out of curving wrought-iron balconies, up to the very dormers clinging to the bevelled roof, flowers gemmed the grey walls. The Doctor ran his keen eye over the building and rested it upon a certain balcony of the right wing. "Not a soul stirring," he muttered to himself. But hereupon his further advance was arrested by an explosive apparition of colour upon the balcony in question. In flaming reds and yellows, it seemed as' if some huge tropical bird had alighted on the sill. Two copper claws were suddenly extended and snowy filmy garments flew out in clouds. " No smU indeed, but the wholesomest body in the world," said Lebel to himself, "probably for that reason," he added cynically. "Hullo! Blanchette. huUo, my fairest of snowdrops," cried he, in a rough good-humoured shout. " Where is your mistress? " A grinning copper face, shining beneath a yellow and red turban, was instantly protruded over the balcony flowers. " Hulk), Doctor, honey ! " The white teeth gleamed. " Missie very busy. Busy dressing I " THE SECRET ORCHARD " Busy dressing? " repeated the shabby gentleman r^ndid : '''^:!^ '" ''^ '^^ and^TmouS "Tha.lr^* ""^^u"".'" •''P'**"'^^ astonishment That IS a strange hearing I " . Jtt; no fjri""' '"*""'' "■" ^^ ^•-' "> -"»<» •milSri^rsheJlXT.?'"" ^^"'"^ ^^- deSaL'^!^' "°'''*'^ triumphantly, again shook the dehca te drapenes. waved them like a flag of rejoicine and disappeared, followed by the Doctor's 1^ aJ which rose crescendo to a bellow iZtZrV^'''"^ B"t.fo;God'ssake.teUher M T^K I u "fl'°'' ""y ^°^«-"rgentI » scr^ft'cifn l^ *'"''' *"'' ^^"P*'*^ P«"«™a hat. scratched h,s g.cy stubble, and reflected Then shrugging h.s shoulders, he flung himself upon ahigh garden chair near the balustrade, and propping W, cheek upon his stumpy fingers gazed ou't acr'sf the tha1°th.7lr f ^'/''^" ^""**'^ "P *« contemplation o strike "i :"'''' I^'^^^P^^^^^^ »'- -«-d to strike . if ears; and it was only when a ouiet head that he vouchsafed any consciousness of its owner's large, gentle presence. ;; Oh, beautiful France! " said the voice, so "toLr;!^ the Doctor, just shifting his position upJ^rds %^^/°^^-^"7";edly impatient glance upwards. You. Canon? I thought I knew th<> slink of a clerical shoe." "** THE SECRET ORCHARD The Canon of Marly— Armand de Hauteroche would have been his name in the world, but no one in the district ever thought of him but as " our Canon**— the Canon of Marly, his silver head bared, stood a moment without answering, one hand— the " hand of a prelate," as the saying goes, chiselled as it were out of old ivoiy— lightly resting on the stone of the terrace balcony, the other upon the back of the Doctor's chair. His face, large yet etherealised, serene yet deeply worn, was turned full tow^ds the luminous west, and his eyes gazed forth as if follow- ing some elusive vision. His cassock fell in fine lines around a portly figure to which the folds of the purple sash lent an added dignity. So exquisitely had these garments been brushed and mended that it would have required a very close inspection to dis- cover that they were quite as ancient as the Doctor's rusty and shapeless frock-coat " In truth," said the priest, as if continuing his thoughts aloud, "the very fairest spot in the fairest land of Christendom ! Of just such a beautiful comer of the world might Horace have sung— " ' Ille temmun mihi praeter omnes Angulus ridet, obi non Hymetto Mella decedunt . . . ' They knew what they were doing, these Fitzroys of old, when they planted a home here." Then, bring- ing his glance back, and lightly Upping the Doctor's shoulder. "Even you, the boasted practical man, were quite lost in poetical admiration of yonder golden mists." *M"t -«-:-• 8 THE SECRET ORCHARD "Oh, yes I " grunted the other, sarcastically. " I couW write a charming ode on the subjects of golden of old their terrace." he went on. warming to his grumble, and bearing down an incipient attempt at interruption. " their terrace - 1 will say this for it - is And It looks away from Paris - and that may be good for what you are pleased to call our souls " '•What!" cried the Canon, "do I «ve to hear reviled the Temple of Science, the home of advanced thought. Ae City of tight itself? I thought it w^ rwerved for narrow-minded individuata of my con- terrible Babylon! ... And yet. when I gaze forth I^ h« fer.away in the disUnce from my window. I see the spires and towers of her churches pierce heavenwards through the mist of her smoke, ^d I take heart of grace again." his"!!^ ^m"'" ^^ "^^ Doctor, pushing back h s chair noisily, rising and driving his hands into hiswaistcoat pockets, "whenever I look out in ^ d^on of Paris. I see the elegant contour of Z poor fne«d..t thnistsits skeleton into the ve^cliuds I^jr.K ^V ^'TP** **^ **»' «>• *"*' ^^^' «orth. jumping into your eye — I defy you." *• My friend." said the Canon, mildly. " the towera '^HE SECRET ORCHARD of Notre-Dame these eight centuries have seen the rise and faU of many ialse gods — the Church wiU Mve France yet" •• Pooh I If there were a few more like you, I '11 not say but what a score of honest, wholesome men might at least improve matters. But your comrades over yonder." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder and made a contemptuous grimace. Then, throwing himself mto his favourite attitude, with legs well ■part, he turned truculently upon his companion — "Now, what brings you here, I should like to know? This is not the begging hour." •• Indeed," returned the other, " you do well to remind me of the hour. I must see the Duchess at He turned with some appearance of haste towards the house, but the Doctor irreverently arrested him by a fold of his cassock. " Hey, hey," cried he, "not so fast! Where are you off to? The Duchess is coming. Lord, what youthfhl paces all of a sudden, ray good fellow I Is not patience one of the canonical virtues? And besides," dropping his jeering note to one of semi- senous warning, "remember, if j-ou please, that fri^" *' *^ »>ox-office. Fall in in rear, my Thus adjured, the Canon turned with his unalter- able placidity, and letting himself subside into a wicker chair, rested his elbows on the arms, joined the taps of his fingers and smiled upon his friend. So she IS coming? " said he. " Then I wiU wait lo THE SECRET ORCHjtRn »■;.*"** ^17 '*!.""' '" '*"• ^*"' ^ '• nothing new. That ii where you would always place u« 11 T '•''"' ^'^ ^"^ •'•" »- «»^' ^^'^^n tJ^l^^V *^'l^^^ ^" shoulder,, and took . turn or two along the blazing geranium border, kick" «»« up the gravel as he paced with the t^Yof his v«t wrinkled riioes. At the third turn J^ hLted ^cZ ""' "' *"" ^^^- *^ ^-^ •' »^^ affllSo;"" ^^^ ^•"?"'" ""*^ ^'' ^» *°n« of rough Sftt.rh j:°"' P'^^'O" ""Other, the Church. cL ;eTL';:r;::rr*^**'^"^^"^^"^-^^^^^ The Canon raised long drooping lids. "Oh mv .„T»H T*"'?* "^ »»**'^' "'^« World, the FleST and the Devil can flatter themselves to have sponHn you the making of a very 6ne- Christ.^.'^BuV" •aid the priest, comfortably, dropping his eyes agl and crossing hi, feet, "there iui be the pefj^ The Doctor started and snorted. The cleric with^^Silf*''' *' ^^^'■* "**'"*"« <>"' his cheeks 3^1^??K *. "fu ™- '.'^"^ ^' *h<>»« P«' fowls of youn rfthat IS thefr only prospect for a treati » There was a pause, and the gravel flew again un- suTt^r 1 ^'- P*" *^* «»«^» fortify con. ^X?K ;i^''*'*^- ^* ^^*»^'' ^J»~M»« round, caught the Canon in the act. THE SECRET ORCHARD II T u^T' '^'"••" "'** ^*- " ^^'^ *»'*"«» yo" here? I know! You want that good woman there" — jerking his thumb at the balcony with hU homely gesture - " to give more of her good money to cram some wretched infant's head full of spiders' webs about the next world, instead cf bringing him up to be a useful member of this. Or some of those little mewed-up old maids of yours have sei^t you to beg for a new doll for their chapel. ..." Here the speaker interrupted himself by tripping agamst the overflowing work-basket in his resUess bear-walk. He stooped, picked up between his finger and thumb a piece of satin vestment gorgeously worked with purple crosses, and surveyed it with great disgust. ;• Look at that now -just look at that I A pretty thmg for a woman to be wasting her time upon whibt sne might be making garments for the naked." Dr Lebel here shook the offending object in front of the Canons placid nose. "Look at it." he repeated. J " ?* r*'^ "y™*^* °f yo«"- «tate. Oh. it's beautifully decorated, I grant you. It has Uken time and trouble, and some intellect, to bring it to such perfection! But what is it for? That's what I My, what is the end of it? — God Almighty I " The little man furiously dashed the piece of work derisi'on* ^"'''* ^^ ^^ "^"^ ""''^ *"'* *'**" *" "You have said it." said the Canon. "The end w- God Almighty." His voice rose sonorously. He extended his right hand nith one slow movement 13 In marked contrast to his interlocutor'! ceoeI«« .^ ticulation. •• We have an ^„a » ?. *^**^'«» ««•- "an imm«^ I f ""• continued the Canon •n immortal one. And this U where w ^/i / ' The Doctor stared with »/v»»i: through his spectac^ Th / ?5 "*^' ^^ ^^ "f '"•"'«>». •fteriach work Mthli?" ^ bJte . ta!^' '"^°?^ '^""' *' «««• of a« ■•■Kci a knitted mass of coarui <*•;«. . with ahnost infantile glee. ^^ "*" *' "P CHAPTER II I^ J *i' ^J"''"*" *»^ *»"* «P«« doorway Sh«««ir^ ?!•*'*''" **' ^'""y* <^'«» i» white. fmmnX ? "^ '^^ *S* ^•^"* •""•"y*' •»»« looked smilingly down upon the friendly beUigerents. A large tan-coloared hound bounded past her careered out upon Ae terrace, circled in StiJ:'.^^ J^JUr'v'* r"*P* "' ^t-medTthrust wf iSfai^L^??^*^'***"^- Both men started, with a look of pleasure on their faces. "There she comes." said the Canon, rising. At last ! "said the Doctor, as he swept hb panama from his bristling grey head. pwama r»»w ?•*?.*" 'T* ****'^ '**''»^» *^«»^ walking «ther quickly and stretching out both her hands The sunshine lit with gold the waves of her brown ^Z ' * c'T"'^ *»*"*»««»«* «to the stiU. «,ft. S!2 Tn.^*;! '^ • **" '^*»™«"' ^'^h « classic breadth of sTioulder and leilgth of limb, with proud set of head contradicted by a gentleness of gaze that was almost timid. ** nn?^^'**"' ""^ ^'""y ^™ "«»«« Ch"«h) was one of those rare flowers which, blossoming upon 14 THE SECRET ORCH ARD the fine old Anglo-Saxon stock, seem, in the so.i anH :'7p cti l7/r''' '?*^^ ^^^-" -^^hV^erv: a special perfection and vigour of beauty; one of lis v^k' ?' '" ^*^*' ^" ^'^^"g**'' fortune, and bo^ which America from time to time sends over to old Europe to revive some grand decaying race and fitly wear the coronet of some majestic tide There was nothing that betokened delicacy in the creamy pallor of her cheek. There was noTh nVof •ns.p,d.ty in the loveliness of her face, wh ciU saved from the dulness of perfection by one or Tw^ charming irregularities,: a deep dimple'^on one sWe of curving lips that were ever inclined to part in a tveiy year of the mll-filled thirtv^v.. ^t «.- w.m»;. Ufc h«. added i„ touch ^^Z:^ ,^'! ;f.rprztdt:::,t:tirs hl^I Ti '""'"'*''" '^* "•^' y^Wing her right hand to the Canon and the left to the Doctor. Then to the latter: "Ah." said she. "I ,ee you have -I-ady been at my basket, Now what do^o"u t::: She released their fingers with a little friendly THE SECRET ORCHARD >5 i u shake, subsided into one of the wicker chairs, and folded her draperies round her. "Oh, you come at the right moment, you two" she went on, with a new note in her voice, like a joy-bell. " What could I refuse to any one now? Cluny IS coming home — coming home to-day! " She looked from one to the other triumphantiy. They were both very glad; she saw that, and she was satisfied. She did not realise that their gladness was all because of hers. "I must not be selfish," she went on with a happy sigh. " What do you want ? " Eagerly the Doctor drew a chair beside her "Madam." said he, extending his stumpy fingers* oratoncally. * " Indeed," began the Canon on the other side, with quite an unusual emphasis. ^J^r/ f?*^'' "°'" ^'^ ''^''' ^^^'^g' ^ they abruptly halted and contemplated each other with discontent; "the Church first." Hereupon the little man grew desperately sombre; he pushed his spectacles back on his fprehead, screwed up his eyes and wrung his nether lip be- tween an angry finger and thumb. A shade fell upon the Duchess's face. Looking earnestly at him: * "Oh, is it as bad as that?" she cried. "Then Canon, we must let him have his say first, for you' know, when our Doctor plants his spectacles that way, It s a matter of life and death." " But I, too," urged the priest, with gentle authority, i6 THE SECRET ORCHARD TTie Doctor exploded. "Oh.yes. of course -some hystencal washing^irl has worked henTlf into a r rirteTr.TiTi."^'" - ^"^'' - »--^^»^. The Canon of Marly lived under a chastened onlmance but he too was human: it was no"„i^t the Church should give way to the laity. The Duchess sat between the two estates with a plaadj^that showed her to be weU accustomcTto Ztj^T l^'lr^' *^* ^""^ "•* ^Wch she ^ZT^ !" ^^^ something quaintly maternal in Its mdulgent patience. he^'L^JhlT'* **•'?".' "**'" *"*^"^ *»»« P"«»t « orth'eUer^idT '"'"~""'' ^'^ ^*^'" »»^"-«« "Bernard's girl •' Then both mingled their accents of wrath and sorrow m the same words: "Poor little Rose- dyingl-m an outhouse!" They stopped dead short and glared. After a second their faces relaxed as If by magtc ; with the same movement they clasped hands across the Duchess's knees. "Oh! what an apostle lost to us!" murmured for 5:""°"' ^^^^^'y- «« he half turned away to hunt for h^ snuff-box in the folds of his cassock. • gn,wTei^D:.ti:r '^"°"''*' "''^'^ '^^^ »-»'•' ^ Helen had risen abruptly. "Stop!" she cried. I«t me understand. Why, you are both talking THE SECRET ORCHARD 17 about Rose, then. Did you say that Bernard's child, our little innor:ent Rose, has come back — ill?" "Alas!" ;.aid the priest, "no longer innocent Rose. Ah, that Paris I " sighed he. "Ah, yes, Paris!" echoed the Doctor, and shook his fist in the direction of the east Then, with un- abashed inconsequence, he went on, glowering upon the priest: "She has come back fearfully ilj^that is what it is. And her pious, confession-going, fasting father has turned her out to die. Betrayed by one man, condemned by another. ... for that's the justice of well-organised society!" "My God!" exclaimed Helen. "Betrayed, that child ! Doctor, you must believe in a God, if only for the punishment of such crimes. If Cluny were here, how his generous soul would flame! And Bernard has cast her off ... oh ! that is cruel." Her lip quivered; tears leaped to her eyes. But she was a woman whose pity was prompt to action. "She must be brought here. Here we can take care of her." She laid her hand on the Doctor's coat sleeve, and turned an imploring face over her shoulder towards the priest. "Oh, my good friends, hurry! I would go with you, but she might be ashamed to see me — poor thing! Stay I I will send Blanchette: she has known her from a child." She moved swiftly towards the house as she spoke, followed by her satellites. " Yes," remarked the Doctor, looking with a fresh vindictiveness at his beloved en«my, "a negress, 18 THE SECRET ORCHjt RD have the first voice in the preparations. But from the steps he turned again to jeer at the more dS fied advance of the older man : * "I thought you would have run to the prodiiral sheTnof •" ""'' ' "^"'' ^'- ^- Pr^cC a^' She IS not m a state to bear it" The Church had the last word. "I only ask to^come m," it said sedately, "where your^Sent CHAPTER III SEVERAL guests were expected that afternoon at Luciennes. On three several occasions the sun- lit, hitherto drowsy, courtyard had been filled with movement and clangour. The barouche, the stout prancing bays and the fat first coachman in person, in fact, the equipage of great occasions, to start early for Paris and bring back Madame la Marquise de Lormes, her son, Mon- sieur le Marquis and party from the family mansion m the Faubourg St. Germain: the victoria to meet M Favereau at four-ten, with the second coachman and the roans; English John to be at Rueil before five, w.th the Duke's own American trottei* and the dog-cart,— such had been the orders of the Duchess. It was not often that such an influx was expected at th-^ chateau, and the stately placid routine of the establishment was pleasantly fluttered. The hostess herself, immediately upon the speeding of her new charitable undertaking, had been moved into the unwonted fussiness of inspecting the guests- apartments for the second time. She had added certain pleasing volumes to the collection already awaiting M. Favereau near his consecrated comer ^msmmmms ao THE SECRET ORCHARD window; had placed a specially selected picture (of austere religious character) on the cabinet facing Madame la Marquise's canopied bed. In the apart- ment of the Marquis she had ordered the lighting of a small wood fire with a sudden recoUection of that young nobleman's chilly propensities. Upon the otfier hand, in the room destined to the Marquise's eldest son, by a former marriage — the American sailor cousin, fresh from the great wave spaces and the salt breezes -she superintended the flinging open of both windows, the removal of super- fluous furniture as well s» the laying bare of the cool parquet floor. In her husband's room she lingered, but found little to alter. Here the most divining care had already been expended. She moved a vase of his favounte monthly roses, only to replace them in their first position. A little while she gazed dreamily at the fiiU lengtii portrait of herself, Carolus Duran's most delicate masterpiece, the only picture on the simple and lofty panelled walls; then gravely and anxiously she turned to contemplate the riper beauty imaged in the dressing-table mirror, caught the gleam of a white hair in the full wave upon her brow, and pulled it out. In yet another chamber did her steps linger. This was a littie room opposite her own apartment, all white and rosy (colours of innocence and happi- ness), all muslin and lace, overiooking the rosiest, most smiling and most flowered comer of the gardens —a very bower, one would say, for some young THE SECRET ORCHARD II i if I princess! It was already known in L4iciennes as " Mademoiselle's room." For more than a fortnight its preparation had been the subject of the Duchess's constant preoccupation. The household, indeed, were considerably exercised in their minds concerning the identity of its future occupant, more especially as Madame Blanchette, who seemed to be her mistress's only confidant on the subject, had gratified her fellow- servants' curiosity no further than by the remark: '• Missie want somethin'/'« »»«' ''"--. I havelee"' '" "" ""emotional voice. " I know, She did not seem to feel any lack in his manner: l«r fece. under the glow of her thoughts, had grow.! "Oh.Clunyisamanl»shecried. "You always kughed at me from my ve^r childhood forT romantic dreams. You know how high I Zv^Z placed my ideal of the man I could lovf Ah I yo^ can guess then what Cluny has been to me when J ^lyou. after all these years, that he has never once failed me, never once fallen from it . Whv d« you look like that? " ^^ **° Faver<»u started slightly, determinedly swept from his face by a kind wrinkling smile the'^incon dou" SSTedVnr "' ^""^^ *° '~"»^^^' -^^^^ ^a^ "I?" said he. "Oh. only for the old reason! "Ah!" cried she. with shining eyes, "if Clunv most delicate, the most untiring love, I should have !i THE SECRET ORCHARD 25 to worship him now for hi. last «:t of goodnc hi/'lTn"*" ^^'^^"^ *^* ^"'^ ^"^^ o^ W. nose with inquisitive look upon her. 4«««icai " Indeed? And what," said he '« i« thi. u,/»«^- r 1 new proof of our Edward's goodnUs ?" ^''^"* "That was one of the things I had to tell you " e^rneV of H '' '•"»>—«' overspl^d' ^ eagerness of her countenance. She took ud Zr neglected work and began to stitch with p^eat vL„r After a ew seconds she pursued hesitatifgly Tt is ■r "'.ai Wow"" *"' "" "" "•^ ^"'"■•^- " •'■ My dt^'cSfd'^' *• *""™«' "'* • «^- "God took her husband from her," uld Helen "vereao, indeed I am not a MJntI And indeed I and I am so happy I •• ' rubbed them between his finger and thumb and U THE SECRET ORCHARD cleared hii throat For a moment, it aeemed, tuiuble words with which to continue the conversation iailed him. Then he once more mentally shook himself. *'Come, Helen/' said he, "confession is good for the soul I" She glanced at him quickly from her work: timid e)res were hers from under the queenly brow. ** Uy old mentor," said she, '• yes I " It CHAPTER IV "11 AVE you ever heard," said the Duches., after 11a pause, and once more placid, smoothing out the vestment upon her knee. •• of a Madame Cora May?" M. Favereau jumped In his chair. •• Cora May. hey ... ? You don't mean tk* Cora May, la belle Cora, as they called her? " "I think there was only one," said Helen, gently. as she threaded a new strand of rose silk. Favereau sank back in his chair and began to gaze at the deepening blue sky with the air of one deter- mined to be surprised at nothing "She is dead." said Helen, in her grave voice of Favereau still found interest in atmospheric con- templation. "I believe," said he, "that I did read some edify- ing obituary notices." Helen's needle halted in mid-air; she gazed dream- ily out towards the gorgeous west «il^*'^u *^ P*°P^*'" »*»* observed into space, knew that woman as I did." 28 THE SECRET ORCHARD Favereau gathered his long hmbs together with a jerk. "Hein!" he ejaculated. "I knew her heroic goodness," said the Duchess, looking steadily at him, with just a shade of severity " Aha! " said the man, clasping his hands over his knees and staring at her with a blank countenance. Ah! you may lauyii if you like," she cried quickly. see that? "'"'"^**'** ***"■ "^*"S^' Where do you Helen's cheek flushed. She had the sweetest blood m all the world, but it was prompt to rise. " I don't want to understand what you mean," she exclaimed indignantly. "I don't want to know into what folly, what misery the poor creature fell. She was impulsive, passionate. She was a desolate woman ; she became desperate." Favereau's eyes softened once again with a wonder- ful tenderness, as he gazed upon this most cherished child of happiness kindling in generous defence of an unfortunate sister. "But, Helen," said he. after a little pause, in his cool voice, "where could >v« have met Cora May ?" "Ah. not where you would have met her, sir! In poverty-stricken hovels, in sad hospital wards. . . . What that woman did, unknown to the world, in the ways of charity, passes all I can tell you." "So that was how you met," said Favereau, mus- ingly. He sank back into his seat; and closing his eyes, seemed to fall into a deep reverie. THE SECRET ORCHARD 29 ^ i I Helen threw a glance at him as if of apology for her heat of speech, and took up her work again The pause that fell, filled up by the dreamy song of the thrush and the rising scent of the geranium leaves was a lengthy one. Twice or three times the Duchess' attempted to break it, but hesitated upon the choice of the right word. At last, stitching very fast, and without glancing up, she remarked in an elaborately matter-of-fact manner : ^' •' The poor thing had a child." Favereau half opened one eye and closed it again " Ah ! " commented he. "Listen, Favereau," said she, with a sudden plead- ing earnestness. "That mother had the courage to give up her little daughter before the babe could know her, lest any contamination should fall upon Its innocence. The child has been brought up as an orphan, at some school in the provinces. The mother never allowed herself to see it, even as a stranger. Oh, am I not right in thinking that if there is atone- ment before Heaven, its gates were not shut to Cora May? "VVho knows?" said the man, dreamily, without opening his eyes. " You at least will, some day." •• Her one thought then." pursued Helen, unheed- ing, "was her child. She had put by quite a little fortune for her." "I thought," he broke in again, still in the same manner, •• she died penniless." " So she did, poor thing ! She was too eager. It was through want that she herself had fallen: she JO THE SECRET ORCHARD wanted her child, since she could do no more for her to be nch, to be safe I She lost all at one stroke ini know not what speculation. And it killed her I Now we had not met very often. We could not have had each other I thmk. She looked so unhappy ! » rhat. of course, was sufficient to attract you f " heril^T , *** **"'P ^"' *^"' «^« '^^^^ »P°ke about herself. Only once, as we parted, she whimpered i^to »y ear. 'Pray for mef A few weeks ago I w« 2r:t H .'"''"V **"^' '^^ ^-- She Jrote Z she was dy,ng. and would I. of my charity, go J "And of course, of your charity, you went" wi„i^ Tl^i *'"*** ''*''• '»"^' throwing to the wmds all diplomatic preparation for her difficult avowaK proceeded eagerly: «Oh. Favereau. it wt the saddest thing I have ever seen f She wai strT^ down in the ve^r plenitude of life. InTainfulIv drawn words, for she had hardly breath left t^speak W.A. she told me of the child, of her ow^li ?! dllLrTT'' '^"^^'^ ^'"'^''th^ <=W" of her shar. T ^u"' **"' ^*' '^' blushed-blushed in the d.!r l* r ** **^ '''•• ''»'^' ^«t «I««dy with thought nf'""^ ''" "^ '«'°'**'^" • «»»« ^"•d'^ 'the thought of you came to me like the vision if an IThi Z *'''."'^' >^**" '^* P^^^^rful, and you are aU goodness.' that is what she said, you know She^said to me: 'Of your charity, will ;ou save my Favereau slowly opened both his eyes. "And of THE SECRET ORCHARn 3, your charity." said he, in the same lazv coni„« " you promised." ^' *^**°'"S ""^Y* "Ofcourse," she echoed impatientlv Th*„ ♦ • brightly upon her friend, " /got TihJ^^^^ happiness then." D vlnel de^o it T"^ °^ ^"^^ Gioja." ~ay • . . and had to give up her Favereau was gazing straight before him. "Gio- celt ^r^"V '""''"^'^- " J^y- «h« "ost evan^ the fo f T' '"P""'^"^ °^ «" »»""«« emotions -^ the folly of trying to perpetuate it in a poor "fttle human monument I" ^ ^"* ch^J^" * "r*"' "''^*" '*»«"«d simply; "The child comes home to-day." ^ " The child comes home to^ay f " Favereau sprang to his feet with an inarHcuIate wund suggestive of sudden choking. '"''*^""'»'* The child comes— home. My God. what m»A. ness are you planning ! " ^ ' **' ""'^ As he rose, so did she, and turned and faced hfm m beautiful defiance, their eyes nearly ^n a ,evd Ah. you men of the world," she cried -tL u always your cant phrase whe; any 'c^f has^'C 32 THE SECRET ORCHARD inspired to do some little deed of goodness out of the beaten track I Thank heaven my Cluny is made of nobler stuff! " She caught both his hands, and shook them backwards and forwards to emphasise her words. " Favereau, before even I had time to explain my wish to Cluny, to tell him what I knew of the mother of the child herself, he forestalled me. • You want to have the little one here,' he said ; • very well, adopt her if you want to. We will give her a home, and when the time comes, we '11 find her a husband.'" •• Pray, my dear Helen," said the Minister of Public Worship and Education, recovering his self-control, " release my hands and allow me . •; wipe the drops of consternation, which the very thought of your rashness has started on my brow. Oh, I am not in the least surprised at your husband's behaviour: that is Cluny all over — inconceivably light-minded I However, it will not do either of you much harm, I dare say, to learn for yourselves that all your inspira- tions are not necessarily happy ones. After a few weeks' experimentalising with governesses, you will probably realise the inexpediency of turning Lu- ciennes into an orphan asylum. No doubt you will find some excellent school for the embarrassing child." * The Duchess had dropped her mentor's hands as requested, and was now looking down at her own taper fingers. A cloud of embarrassment had dimmed her radiant confidence. "The child?" she said, with a laugh that strove THE SECRET ORCHARD 33 J I to be airy. " Unfortunately, my old Favereau, the child is — is eighteen." Upon hearing this culminating and crushing detail the gentleman's feelings became too deep for words. Casting on her one look of despair that was almost coiftic in its intensity, he turned away and began to pace the gravel with irritable steps. Helen looked afler him, half laughing, half apolo- getic. Presently she ran up to his side. " And the little one is coming to-day 1 " she cried, with a sort of child-like glee at having at last exposed the full extent of her mischief. " And Aunt Harriet is actually chaperoning her, and I have prepared such a little nest for her, poor bird ! And in fine, Faver- eau, my heart is so full that there is not room for a drop more. Oh, don't be hard on me, old friend I " she cried, changing her note. " Folly is divine some- times. Can I not at least play at being a mother? " The man stopped in his walk, laid his hands upon her shoulders, and looked down into her face with eyes at once fatherly, lover-like, and reverential. " Play at being a mother," he repeated. " Why, my dear, you are always playing the mother. Is there any one of us, even your husband, to whom you are not most unwearyingly, most divinely maternal I " Then abruptly turning away: "But for all that," he said drily, "your plan is the most insane that even you ever plotted and even Cluny gaily abetted I " ^%.-*-»«« ,-._ CHAPTER V ULLOr- cried , high-pitched, .lightly "H^«^ voice f™„ i.-;^-r7;h."^' "ItiiNe»sie,"said«he. fhf r™"" """^ PWfoundly i, the direction of "Ht^o"?!?^ '<«"~te,"«iid he. in eaqrEngli*. Hullo, I declare if there is not the Mini.tn» ct;^ the u„™od»I,t«i tone "How do y^ do "^ The little figure at the top of the atcM waved in reft^niaTtL' ^''"^ •»"•'" '^ |.^-.o„g.£rhirw;r-K;--;- £s^-.np;fp^'rhVhte5^-- Jtoe. mn«ulou.ly ™,ll; i„ .venr line of the duA, face, wittily irregular, delicately pretty; in everJ cUimed herwlf American -American of Ihe cla« «f bewitching New. World women who, looking J™„' r»n. a. their paradiM, are determined to Sf th^ir THE SECRET ORCHARD 3S •hare of bliu here below and make sure that their garb shall never be unworthy of the beatific sUte With a final trip that threatened to destroy whole yards of wonderful fal-lals the little lady halted, ex- tended the minute hand blazing with ringi to Favereau's mock, rapturous salutation, while she herself bestowed a bird-like dart and chirrup in the direction of the Duchess's left temple. "Now, Helen, what do you think of my new gown?" ' As she spoke Madame Rodriguez shook out her skirts; and there seemed to be a ruffling and flutter- ing of feathers, followed by shapely subsidence. "Paquin says," she twittered, "they must be an inch on the ground all round. How is one to walk. I should like to know? You are a man of taste. Mister Minister. (It's really delightful to see you I) What 's your candid opinion on the new fashion? It is kind of silly, don't you think, to make people forget you have a foot?" She chose her chair, taking possession with an- other inimitable whisk of draperies and an arrange- ' ment of limbs which brought into proper notice the swing of the miraculous shoe. Favereau, his humourous face wrinkled with amusement, bent slightly to examine through his eyeglass the arch of embroidered kid. "Could any man," he sighed, "forget that you had a foot, Madame?" ^ Nessie lifted her toes within the range of her vision with a slight kick. 36 THE SECRET ORCHARD **! wonder," said she, "if that 's a compliment?" Bubbling with amusement, she shot a confidential glance at Helen, upon which her countenance sud- denly changed. With lowered feet and raised head she turned sharply upon her friend. "What 's happened to you, Helen? You 've got another face since this morning." The light that only one thought had the power to evoke shone in the Duchess's eyes and smile. Her hand sought with unconscious caress the hidden telegram. "I have had news," she said. Nessie gave a little iihort. "You don't mean to say the Duke has sent you another letter?" "No; a telegram. He is coming back — this afternoon." The sunshine of her joy so flooded this happy wife that even her familiar companion's ready tongue had to wait a moment on staring eyes. "Well, I do declare I" she burst forth at last with the shrillest note of her high gamut. " Look at her. Monsieur Favereaul I always said Helen had a lovely character. What other woman now would wear a face like that, just because her husband 's coming home? And such a gown I My I for a hus- band 1 Now I have dressed smartly too; but that 's because of the American sailor cousin — one of the heroes of Santiago, you know — the new beau. " "An encouraging remark," said Favereau, in his gentle bass, "to make before — " "The old beau?" interrupted Nessie, witbade- THE SECRET ORCHARD 37 lighted cackle. She tapped his shirt-cufif with her little jewelled finger, took a necessary breath, and started afresh. "Well, Helen 's a real saint, isn't she ? Now, what do you say ? " "I say," answered Favereau, drily, "that if Cluny is not a real saint, he ought to be." The Duchess looked up from her work, and shot an amazed look at the man's countenance, — a coun- tenance that was as superficially expressive as it was fundamentally secretive. She drew her brows together; her eager lips trembled over a rush of words, but the arrival in procession of what the majordomo presently announced as " le five o'clock " checked further intimate speech. Nessie fell upon the cakes with an appreciation which for the moment necessitated her undivided attention. Favereau remained standing in the atti- tude in which he had risen to receive his cup from Helen's hand. Absently stirring the three lumps of sugar in the uncreamed mixture (his hostess knew to a nicety, and never forgot, the individual tastes of her friends), he watched the Duchess's face with an ever-gathering gravity. Round and round went the little Russian enam- elled spoon in the yellow Russian tea, though the sugar was long since dissolved; round and round went his anxious thought, and to as useless a purpose; " S0 serene, so untroubled, so untouched, so steadfast in all else, yet here so vulnerable, that even to question /*«• » 38 THE SECRET ORCHARD in jest the perfection of her idol suffices to bring this shade upon her facet Ah met Angel, saint to all the world— woman, more tenderly woman than most to the man her husband t God guard us t— and I who made the marriage to give her ho^ness, out of my own poor heart I" * Yes, my dear," returned Nessie, brandishing a slice of walnut cake in the direction of the Duchess's bent head and resuming the original thread of her discourse, " you 're just too good for this world, that 's a fact!" Helea looked up. *'Do you want to make out," said she, with a little laugh, "that there is any merit in my loving Cluny? Oh, I am afraid the path of sanctity is steeper!" Madame Rodriguez, who out of her slice had bitten a semicircle that bore unimpeachable witness to the perfection of her small teeth, here cried indis> tinctly, but with the greatest earnestness— "Don't you try to climb any higher, my dear. No, don't you try! Men do not like to be made to live always on the heights, do they. Monsieur Favereau ? " Favereau swallowed his tea-syrup, and deposited the cup before answering. Then, drily — "In great altitudes," he answered, "the atmos- phere is perhaps rather too rarefied for ordinaiy lungs to breathe with comfort." "That's 80. As for me," proceeded Nessie, "I always feel a kind of mountain-sickness coming THE SECRET ORCHARD 39 over me when I have been a week in the house alone with Helen." The Duchess looked from one to the other of her friends. " I don't think I quite know what you mean," she said, flushing. " We mean well to you, my dear," cried the shrill mentor, and fell to emphatic speech, pointed by the most warning gesticulation of absurd hands.- "We all know that you are an angel, and a saint, and have a halo growing somewhere round your head, and we know that the nearer the sky you are, the more at home you feel. But husbands — husbands, my dear, are mere human beings. If one wants to live with them happily, one must come down from one's heights." "In fact," interrupted Helen, with a still deepen- ing colour, "every woman must bring herself down to a lower level if she would please her husband. Is that your advice, Nessi^ and is it — based on experience ? " Hardly had the words escaped her lips than she repented her, and stretched out a tender hand of apology to Madame Rodriguez. But that lady was of no such susceptible fibre. "Mercy!" she cried. "Experience? No! I'd have been mud up to my chin by this time if I 'd tried to live down to Rodriguez. One need not go after them into the swamps." "Madame Rodriguez is a philosopher," said Favereau, beginning to choose a cigarette after a 40 THE SECRET ORCHARD dumb aho'v of demand for permUsion. " Yes, there are middle distances. Tliose are the safest. Com- promises for us all." The Duchess flamed again with that quick, sweet passion of hers that was kindled only by a too sensi- tive generosity. •• Compromise I " cried she. " I hate the word. I hate the idea. What does it mean ? Being false to one's best possibility. Slipping in between the wall and one's honour. A cloak to disguise treason, a kiss to cover a betrayal I " Favereau looked at h*^ kindling face with his sad, wise eyes. "Compromise," he said, "my dear lady, is the cardinal condition of life's tenure. It is the safety- valve of social existence; the first lesson to be taught the child, the last consolation of th^old man." "I will have none of it," said the Duchess. "I would never be content with half an honour, half a love, half a happiness — I think I would as soon do nothing as only half my best. And so would Cluny," she added, after a short pause. "He is one who would as soon lose honesty itself as the delicacy of truth." M. Favereau brushed an imperceptible ash from his immaculate grey knee. Madame Rodriguez's bright eyes, after vainly endeavouring to catch his dreamy glance, became suddenly suffused. She sprang to her feet, and, fluttering to the back of her friend's chair, caught her impulsively round the neck. THE SECRET ORCHARD 41 " She '• too good for this world I " the repeated then, shooting the words at Favercau over the pretty bronze hair and squeezing the white throat with her hands. "How in this universe you ever came to take up with an earthy little worm like me, well, it just beats me I But, after all, it's just because you are /w/ Just to think. Monsieur Favereau: I was a poor, unhappy little girl at school, — yes, I was, Helen, you know I was, —always in disgrace, snubbed by the grand French girls (because my pappa had made his own pile instead of finding it ready made), sent to Coventry by my own compa- triots because of the crimp in my hair! Why, the poor dears, pappa and mamma, would insist on sending me to that convent, the Lord only knows I They'd set their hearts on seeing me in the beau monde, you see. And then Helen here, Helen, this blessed duck — yes, you are, Helen, and you always were" — with fresh pressure from the girdle of vehement hands, "Helen, the pride of the place, brought up by the greatest lady of the whole Fau< bourg St. Germain — my I how that terrible old aunt of yours, my dear, used to wither me through her eye-glass I (she was just American enough, you see, to scorn mc twice over) Helen, the biggest heiress in Paris, sprig of the real o'd Virginia stock, she just took me up and floated me right off. That 's Helen's way!" "Dear Nessie," said the Duchess, pulling down the embracing hands and tilting her head back in the endeavour to stop the chattering mouth with a 4a THE SECRET ORCHARD kiss, "don't forget that, when our good Favereau brought us boxes of chocolate in those dear old days, if he had one for me, he always had one for you ; and that you were as fond of holding forth to him upon my virtues then as you are now." "Oh, bleat you, it does not bore him now any more than it did then. They tew* dear old dayi Helen. I can smell the convent smell this minute: incense and beeswax and whitewash, and the smoke of the httle lamps. Oh dear!" She snifiFed the flower-laden atmosphere and closed her eyes upon blue sky and sunshine. ' ^ r- "Oh dear I" echoed the Duchess, laughing with the tender regret which the most prosperous must fam bestow upon the pathetically innocent memories of youth. And, in company with her friend, she flew back in spirit to the past " I can see the long convent room still - can't you ? And the great long windows, and the one green tree." "Oh, and do you remember," cried Nessie. with her delighted cackl*^ opening her eyes once more, do you remember the day Sister Angelique caught you giving Favereau a kiss for his chocolates? Oh my I how shocked she was. And you said, in excuse you had always done it. Ha, ha, hai You never knew, did yoH, Monsieur Favereau? You never thought of noticing whether a little girl kissed you or not ? But she cried three whole nights after your next visit because she was afraid you would think she had ceased to love yoa" "I remember. I remember," said Helen, smiling. THE SECRET ORCHARD 43 as with half-closed eyes she dreamily swung in the rocking-chair. "Lord, it's not likely you'd remember," said Nessie to Favereau. Favereau glanced at her, and she stopped short. For in those sad eyes the whole tragic secret of the man's life lay suddenly revealed to her woman's wit Her brain seized upon fact, and eliminated precon- ceived ideas with the rapidity of which only a woman is capable. "What!" went her whirling thought, "he had loved Helen? Always, even as a child? This old Favereau! Pshaw! he was not old — but a little over fifty now. And he had not forgotten the last time that Helen kissed him. No, he had not for- gotten it. Ah, my God, what a look ! " The tears again rapidly rushed to Nessie's eye- lashes. To cover her emotion, her embarrassment, to keep Helen from a hint of her kind friend's pain — with the same feminine instinct that would have led her to bind up a wound — she plunged wildly into discourse again, vainly endeavouring the while to find her pocket-handkerchief among the folds of her ingenious robes. "Well, that's Helen's way, anyhow, as I said. And she 's stuck to me ever since, you bet. And when I go and make a fool of myself and marry that Rodriguez, and he treats me like a brute, an" "That 's my child," said Helen, and shot a glance of gay defiance at Favereau. The Duke straightened himself from bending over the balustrade, ran his fingers through his crisp hair, and whistled softly to hjipself with a look of comical,' good-humoured consternation. "Faith," he said in an undertone to Favereau, "I had forgotten all about the orphan — what 's her name? Faith, I doubt if I ever knew the name! Well, it amuses Helen. What is it, my dear?" for his wife stood beside him, her hand on his coat- sleeve. "Are you not coming to welcome our guests. Cluny?" * He glanced over the parapet. " Ces messieurs are evidently walking," he observed, "and, that being the case, Favereau and I will leave you to your first feminine expansion, — those embraces which our masculine awkwardness would inevitably hamper 1 A tantdt." *^ She moved from him regretfully. "I'm coming, Helen," cried Madame Rodriguez, frankly bunching her inconvenient skirts and running after her tall friend as fast as her high heels would let her. THE SECRET ORCHARD 57 When he had watched her out of sight, Cluny fell into his wife's rocking-chair and lit a cigarette. "Let us enjoy things for a few minutes more," said he. "How perfect it would have been if it were not for what Ma ' me Nessie calls ' that old cat-of-an-aunt ' and the .est of them I " He gave a little sigh. "What a pity that this carriage-load should break in upon us I I must be growing old, I think, for I don't feel any enthusiasm even to make the acquaintance of the American. It seems he 's a fine fellow though, and has been entrusted by his Government with weighty business in this Exhi- bition. As for Cousin Totol, I confess the youth's hoary wickedness has ceased to make me smile. And the orphan. Oh, one knows the orphan by heart already! 'Out, Monsieur. . . . Non, Mon^ sieur.' Well, poor little soul, she can't be much in the way, and, as I say, it amuses Helen." CHAPTER VII FAVEREAU, absorbed in thought, his hands loosely clasped behind his back, his head bent forward on his breast, was pacing slowly up and down in the red sunset glow. A look of fatigue had fallen upon his face. It was as if some inner light had become quenched upon Helen's withdrawal. He seemed to pay no heed to Cluny's discourse. But, with the placid egoism of easy friendship, the latter proceeded, raising his voice and speaking a little more emphatically, the while he luxuriously rocked himself and stretched long legs before him and long arms above his head : "There 's not another woman like her on the face of this earth ! Oh, this coming home to her, the restfulness of it, the sweetness ! And never banaU, man cher, no more than good white bread, or a clear water spring, or the large blue sky itself can become banal!" M. Favereau halted in front of the swinging-chair, and turned for a moment his abstracted gaze upon its self-complacent occupant, then he resumed his slow, reflective tramp. THE SECRET ORCHARD 59 "You made our marriage, dear old friend," con- tinued the Duke, tenderly, "but it is no use trying to thank you. " The other walked to the end of the terrace, re- turned, drew a chair close, and sat down. "Yes," he said; "I made this marriage, and I don't want you to thank me." Both his tone and movements were so h^vy, so unlike the n^an, that, with a shade of surprise, Cluny stopped his rocking, threw away his cigarette and half sat up to examine his friend's countenance. Favereau returned the look with a long, searching gaze. "Edward," said he, then, "those were very pretty phrases you made to, and about, your wife just now." "Phrases? I made no phrases. I spoke from my heart," answered Cluny, alter a slight pause. Again Favereau 's eyes scanned the face before him with a long look. Then he gave a deep sigh. " I believe you are speaking the truth. I have no doubt," he said, "that you are very glad to come back to Helen. But, does it not strike you that, for a man so conscious of his wedded felicity, your absences are strangely frequent and prolonged ? Are you not afraid that it may one day dawn upon Helen that these are not always occasioned by your high sense of territorial responsibility and social duties? For that is, I understand, the official explanation." There was a complete cessation of all movement from the rocking-chair. The Duke seemed struck 6o THE SECRET ORCHARD into as profound a meditation as the speaker had been a little while before. Even in the rosy light his countenance seemed to grow pale under its tan But there was not a shade of hesitation in the frank- ness of his glance; not a shade o; embarrassment in his manner when, at length, looking fully at Favereau he answered him. The words, however, came slowly! with deep earnestness and emphasis. "I can conceive," he said, "no greater misfortune than that Helen's peace of mind should ever be dis- turbed through me. I would do anything in the world to avert that." • Silence fell again. With an abrupt change of manner, the Duke lay back in his chair, resumed his oscillation and began to roll another cigarette Having thrown away his match and blown a cloud of delicate smoke, the world was once more illu- mined by his charming smile. "Bless her." he said, "she would not believe an angel from heaven were he to try to shake her faith m me I Favereau rose stiffly from his seat, his face sud- denly drawn with anger. The sturdy iron chair trembled under the weight and tension of his hand. And this," he said, almost in a whisper, "this is the confidence you deliberately abuse I Edward, you are a baser man even than I thought you. " He turned away as he spoke and walked to the end of the terrace with a dragging step, shrinking into himself as he went. His back now looked like that of an old man. THE SECRET ORCHARD 6i I Cluny sat, staring after him with a blank look that was almost comical; then he sprang up and, hurriedly overtaking the retreating figure, flung both arms boyishly over its shoulders. "I say," he cried caressingly, "what fly has bitten you this evening? You know I am not base. I don't say I am worthy of Helen — that would be absurd! I have my faults, of course — " "Faults!" echoed the other, turning round upon him; and the ring of his voice, the look in his eyes, was so full of sad contempt that the Duke hung his head and dropped his glance, like a convicted urchin. "Ah," said he, then, in a low voice, still looking to the ground, " Helen knows me better than any of you, in spite of everything. She alone knows the best of me. You, why, I think you know the worst. Now I stand between: a man, a mere man. Yet," he continued, stretching out a persuasive hand, " is not a man's best self the true one? " "Edward, Edward, Edward," cried the elder, with a sort of groan, "these are but words. And that better self of yours — which God forbid I should deny! — knows they are but words." He scanned the beautiful face, so extraordinarily youthful still, in spite of the silver streaks in the thick brown hair. " Alas ! " he went on, " I fear that the naughty boy whom I loved so much more than I could have loved a better one, will never die in you. I have been waiting, Edward, for the man — I have waited so long that I have lost hope at last. And one jday " ill I 6a THE SECRET ORCHAR D hlr^h^rtT" '" "^ '^''^'''^ " " ''"" '^'y ^°" ^"^ ^^^^'^ He leant his elbow on the rough stonework and gazed across shadowy garden-spaces towards the misty glory. Again Cluny's arm crept round the irresponsive the obsunately averted ear in tones of pleading that Earnest ™''^^ ^""^^^ '^''' ""^ passionately "Don't say that! Look here, man vieux, it's not a httle hard on me? God knows I would not haTh^rV^'^' "''" ""'' "°' ^^ ^ '^^^- would I have her less exquisite. I will say this for myself worW thftll 'J "°' '"°'^"'" ™^" •» the wholi world that could understand her, feel with her, as I happy ••"'' ^°" ""'' a<^knowledge I have mad; her As the speaker became persuaded of the soundness a su;:d%"r"' '^ ^°'^^ ^^^ graduanyt:" thHS w^:°r.r?;omr ^\'""™^^' ^-^ ,..;*u e. wunarawn from its embrace to assist w.th fine gesture the weight of word,. " have Zl K° k'*"^ • "5'°" """' acknowledge I of her fir' ""'u °' "" "■»"S'"»- "•« '«« fib« wei roldT" ° ''?' ""' ""• ^ ^'»'' "-e would w«r round her woman's face that aureole of happi- THE SECRET ORCHARD 63 Favereau turned with slow unwilling eye, with stiflf resisting figure, to meet the flushed triumph of his friend. "On the surface, your arguments are unanswer- able, my prince of easy sophists," said he, with a curl upon his lip, which was, however, not all un- kindly in its sarcasm. "But let us just probe a very little below this fair surface. Have you ever asked yourself how long Helen's happiness would last if — " '• Stay ! " interrupted Cluny, with a quick gesture. Then, staring thoughtfully at Favereau, "Let me finish," he said. "I suppose you imagine that I have been what is called unfaithful to my wife?" Favereau clutched the young man's arm. "Do you mean to tell me," he cried, "that you have not?" The husband hesitated a second, then he answered firmly: "Never! — Never!" he went on, with an air of entire conviction, "with that better self of mine, that better self which is consecrated to her." "Faugh!" exclaimed Favereau, pushing Cluny from him with an angry movement Then running his eyes over his friend's figure and clasping his own hands behind his head, with a gesture of utter dis- couragement. "Incorrigible!" cried he. Cluny, with his imperturbable sweet temper, betrayed no resentment. "My dear Favereau," he said, pleading once again, "be reasonable. Here, let us sit on this 64 THE SECRET ORCHARD bench. The smell of the honeysuckle is entranc- ing- and look at that sunset! What a good hour this IS -. the very hour for friends. Light up again and don t look so gloomy. I am not such a baS fellow, after all (Well, if you will not smoke. I will.) . . I ask you again, have I not made her happy? And is that not the chief thing after all? You must admit - you are a man of the world - that there is not a man existing that is. through and through, worthy of her. There is not a man, as man is made, man with human weaknesses, human pas- sions. who could keep himself, year in year out. upon her level, without once betraying the clay without bringing disillusion upon her. You know that. I could not." Favereau gave his dry commenting cough. "As well." pursued Cluny, waving his unlit cigar- ette (he was not in earnest about his smoking, after all), "as well expect a human being, however wedded to holiness, to spend his whole existence in a church ! A man must out into the world, even if it be a dusty sinful world. I have felt t^.at I must out into the world, devout worshipper as I am. I have to leave the sanctuary now and again to keep the shadow of my mere humanity from falling upon our perfect union — the union of my better self and her." This time the listener gave a short laugh, flung himself back on the bench and crossed his legs. Leaning his head against the back, he gazed upwards into the deepening blue and breathed, sighing — " Words, words, words ! " THE SECRET ORCHARD 65 first heat he had shown. " What is it you reproach me with? What is it? Where is it /haveTS What cnmes do you think I commit when I leave her? MonDuu ! of what importance are the relax- ations of the man of the warld. the man of honour, be ,t understood, that you should think them, to' day worth all this frowning? These things have no existence, my friend. Or rather, they cease to exist the moment they are passed. Words written in water, pictures on the sands. Come. Favereau. are we not Parisians? If I have taken a cup of tek in the boudoir of celle-ci, or cracked a bottle of cham- pagne at the supper of celuuli ; if I have gone to Longchamps on the drag of my good friend Tel-et-Ul who likes Athenian company, or if I have lost a few nights s eep and a few rouleaux of gold round the M.rhton s green tables, what does it all amount to. m fine? . . . Pleasures without a morrow, without a memory. The glass of wine a man drinks in good company, the jest forgotten in the laughter, the merest nibble at the forbidden fruit, the fruit that grows in that secret orchard which every man II rnean every man of the world, of our world) has at the back of the open garden of his life. Why Favereau the very savour of that wild apple, tart and inferior as it is. is sometimes needed to brine a Ihingr»* "^^^ understanding of the value of better "Knowledge of good and evil, in fact," said Favereau. gravely jeering. "But your idea, my 5 %\ 66 THE SECRET ORCHARD dear Edward, is hardly novel. The experiment, we are told, was made long ago." "And am I not a son of Adam ? " said Cluny, petu- lantly. "My God I and you too! Ah, come, don't tell me you have never slipped into the secret orchard and that you have never known the taste, sweet and acrid, of the forbidden fruit I Oh, you have not been immaculate yourself!" Favereau straightened himself and fixed a glance of the saddest severity upon Cluny: the ghosts of the errors of his youth rose up before him. "I have not," he said. But the next moment, under the pulse of a surging thought, his eye flashed, his face became suffused, the veins on his temples swelled. "I have not," he repeated, throwing the words at his companion like an overwhelming indict- ment ; " but I have not been married to Helen ! " There was a moment's silence. Surprise, suc- ceeded swiftly by an ingenuous shame, showed itself on the Duke's face. Favereau, leaning his elbows on his knees, dropped his crimsoning forehead into his hands. For fifty-six years this man's blood had coursed and fretted and toiled at the service of a mind and heart that had no pity on self; but it was young enough still— that is, strong enough and weak enough — to work its own torture. " Secret orchard ! " he repeated, " Great God I " "And was ft for this I gave thee up, oh my beloved I'' ^ CHAPTER VIII WHEN the Duke next spoke it was in an altered manner. "wcu times ri^ht'T^^T*''' ''^^''" "^'^ ^^' "* '^ousand in aV fn .' ' T ^'■°"«- ^ ^>» «ive this folly up. as there .s nothing in the world I would not give up to save Helen one tear. Oh. believe mf these are not words this timef Or rather H "ne word. n,y word of honour. You do beHeve me? ' He stretched out his hand for his friend's da/p. ravereau.? I U never leave her again. I '11 trv I 'l try to be really what she thinks me." ^' " H.s whole soul thrilled in his voice. Then as handT" K,l' "° '"''''""« '"°*'°"' the outstretched hand trembled a second and dropped. After a delil^ erate pause the other spoke. "It must have required something more than- what was your pretty phrase ? _ the glass of wine in merry company, the jest forgotten il the lau^ter to bring you to this. " ^-tugncer. There fell a curious silence upon the Duke. Leaning forward, both eye and tone as keen as 68 THE SECRET ORCHARD searching, and at mercileu as the surgeon's l»«tcet, Favereau went on : " In what category in his scheme of those harm- less— what am I saying? . . . of those rather meri- torious, ' pleasures without a morrow, ' does the Duke of Cluny place the young lady with the flaxen hair? " " My God ! " said Cluny. The bench shook under his violent start. Favereau stopped short : the first cut of his knife had laid bare the hidden sore. "My God!" said the Duke again, and eve y drop of blood ebbed from his face. "How did you know?" " Everything is always known," returned Favereau, with his sad, cold glance. "My God!" repeated Cluny once more, this time almost in a whisper. "Who told you? Do others know?" " It was spoken of, my dear fellow, at the club. It may yet be talked about in the drawing-room. Sit down, Edward. Why this agitation? You have so successfully (I will again borrow your pic- turesque form of expression) cracked a bottle of champagne with this one, drunk an intimate cup of tea with that other one, that I do not think your reputation is likely to suffer so very much." Then, changing his tone of icy bantering to one of fierce resentment, " But, Helen, Edward, Helen ? Listen : I had to stop Madame Rodriguez's mouth just now. Oh! all out of her love for Helen, she wanted to advise her how to keep a husband at home. Great THE SECRET ORCHARD 60 heavens! You are not an absolute f 1 1 To htvt such happiness — such happiness, my c'uo • ' - 1,-3 voice failed him for an instant - "ar 10 jeo.Kud-se it, for what? for the sweet acrid sav .lir -i vor ■ecret orchard fruit! Faugh!" Cluny opened his pale lips to speak, but cc i,)'^iab^M!i?'£3t It is to be hoped that at least the haunting of the . . . problem, is laid, and well laid." Cluny arrested his friend as he was about to rise. "On the contrary," said he, "I am more haunted than ever. Ah, no," in a sharp tone of pain, read- ing the expression of his friend's face, "not in that sense! But — how shall I tell you.' It comes upon me as it did then, like a nightmare, too horrible to be real. Perhaps her story was true; perhaps she was the innocent school-girl after all ! " "The devil!" cried Favereau, springing to his feet. "The devil incarnate in a girl's soft frame! We were bi'': a day at that cursed place. Oh, she arranged it all! How could a man have thought, have dreamt.? Yet all at once she said something and the awful doubt entered my soul. I was fright- ;I^1 76 THE SECRET ORCHARD ened I had but one thought: to extricate myself. Vet. believe me or not, man of the world as I am I was the entrapped one. " ' "The woman tempted me." said Favereau, with a curhng lip. "Oh. true son of AdamT Bad tTe girl?'" ^^^^o"'^". but what of blaming gre7pl'" ' '"■''" '"'' ^'""^' "'° ^""'^^ ^d "Severe! hoed Favereau. "I have not your gift of lanrua, .. Edward. Throughout your tale tbere is but one word that rises to my lips," " Helen ! ye. The cry came from Cluay's very m^'"' "' ***^ ■^°' Favereau, I nearly weirt "Very likely, said Favereau, icily, "Mean- while, what did you do,'" "Do.?" said the other, with a sowd between a laugh and a sob. "Do.? I fled I I invented an ex- cuse for d'Entragues and I fled that very day. Where that Grange creature had been brought up what companions she had had, what book, she had been fed on, what evil strain ran in her blood, I can only surmise. At times, a word, a look, and she opened a vista of unconscious depravity, before which I stood appaHed, i^palled! The next moment-" He looked with a set face at Favereau and in a lower voice added: "Why. she thought I was go- " mg to marry her, Favereau ! She did indeed. Don't ook at me like that ! 'T is I you should pity. I tell you. with such as she, her fate was inevitable THE SECRET ORCHARD 77 ... I explained to her that there were insuperable obstacles to our union. I have not seen her since. I sent her a necklace of pearls. Oh," he pursued, as if wildly endeavouring to convince a loudly re- belling conscience, "there was not one gem on that string but would suffice to dry all her tears ! " Favereau crossed his legs ; folded his arms. " And do you flatter yourself," he asked very quietly, after a pause, " that she cannot run you down ? " "Impossible," cried the Duke, eagerly. "She has not the remotest idea who I am. She knows me only as Monsieur Le Chevalier. It is " Under Favereau's steady look, Cluny became troubled, hesitated, stammered. " It is a name I, ? name, oh, hang it all ! a name the inferior self sometimes assumes." The Minister got up with great deliberation, but- toned his coat, shook down the folds of his trousers below the knee, brushed his sleeve, and taking up his hat from the bench-corner upon which he had hung it, placed it at a very exact angle on his close- cropped head. Then he began to walk towards the house. "Where are you going?" asked his friend, in a humble voice. "Anywhere," replied Favereau, without turning his head, "away from you." " Have you nothing more to say to me .' " "Nothing." Like a chidden child, Cluny stood and stared with dejected expression after the retreating figure. At 7» THE SECRET ORCHARD I I the foot of the steps, however, the elder man hesi- tated; then, after a second's reflection, wheeled quickly and came back. Placing both hands on Cluny's shoulders, he gazed at him, a whole world of angry affection in his eyes. " It is no use, " said he. " However my judgment condemns you, Edward, my heart cannot cast you oflF. Alas! it was right," he went on passionately, "that the world should have shaken the yoke of you Stuarts from their neck. It is good that you, almost the last of them, are childless. It is right that you should die away, as you are doing, all of you, root and branch. Your race is a scourge upon humanity ; people will love you with the love that passes the ordinary love of mankind; and so long as there is a sprig of you left, you will go on betraying that love. Faithless to your wives, to your mistresses, to your friends, to your own better selves, and yet, forgiven, beloved, ie/ovgd in spite of all and through all ! " * He paused again and contemplated with conflict- ing emotions the downcast face before him; then, with an abrupt change of tone : "This is your last escapade?" he demanded. "You give me your word?" The Duke raised his eyet, full of sad pride. "I don't give it twice," he answered. "Well, amen, then!" cried Favereau. "Amen to the good resolve. And let the past be buried ! " He clasped the other by the hand. The sun, through an arch of the distant aqueduct, dipped be- THE SECRET ORCHARD 79 hind the sky line. The sudden, mysterious twilight breeze awoke and shook the trees. A storm-cloud had gathered upon the radiant west. A chill, a trouble, a dimness seemed to fall upon the gilded world and upon Favereau's boding heart. CHAPTER IX WELL." said Nessie, "you are a nice pair I Are n t you downright ashamed of yourself Duke, to leave poor Helen to bear the first charge of the invasion all alone? Oh, my! that grand old aunt of yours is in a rich temper to^ay. I can tell you And it all fell on Helen, of course. And you with that devoted friendship of yours. attract a httle of the electricity in another direction ? " Nessie, w.th the most becoming lace scarf twisted about her httle dark head, flashed a smile and a mis chievous dancmg look from one man to the other. The savage and the man of breeding, the highest and the lowest m the scale of humanity, have this at tZl •V!"""°"\*^ "•■' °f ^'«S"'«'"g their emo- tions. Not even Nessie's sharp ej-es. not ail her keen perception could discover a trace of the storm that had just shaken these courteous, easy-mannered gentlemen. H 7^^^^^' Madame de Lormes." she proceeded, delighted to monopolise the conversation '• I feel sorry for her this evening, for it nuist be admitted that fate is pretty hard on her. Why, that woman THE SECRET ORCHARD 8i has been labouring these thirty years to turn herself into a perfect French Marquise of the old genuine stock, and didn't she just succeed in making her- self more Faubourg-Saint-Germainy than the Fau- bourg itself! And did n't she produce as perfect a specimen of your modern Parisian monkey-on-a-stick as any other old cat of the region could do I " " I admire," said the Duke, lightly, •• the correct- ness of your natural history illustrations." " Well, I guess you take my meaning all the same. It 's true to life, anyhow. Say now, is n't it hard on her, poor soul, after all these years that the past should rise up against her in the shape of a sturdy American son, a kind of living testimony of the two errors of her youth : I mean of having been born under the Stars and Stripes and of having wedded in her salad days the late forgotten Septimus P. Dodd of Philadelphia. And to hear yourself called ' mother * and • old lady ' in good fresh Yank ! He is a very fine man," said Nessie, after a slight pause, with her head on one side. She gave a trifling sigh. "What, have they arrived ? " cried the remiss host. " Oh, they '11 be out here in a minute," said the lady, arresting him with her vivacious little hand. "I dare say they '11 forgive you for not being there to embrace them : I received them," she explained coquettishly. " Helen was towing the old lady to her room, and doing something to trim up that ridiculous orphan. Oh, my dear Duke, what an absurdity! What are you going to do with that funny child? Why, she could neither open her 6 \?i>* '** ^^^ ^>^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 4^ ^. is most expressionless voice. " I know." The unhappy man sprang to his feet with a cry of horror. "What! Is it known already? My God I" "Hush," said Favereau, commandingly; "control yourself." And with a change of voice he pursued arily, "You have quite a power of description. I recognised ... the devil's eyes." The Duke drew a breath of momentary relief. " Is that all? Thank Heaven ! " "Is not that enough?" Again followed silence. Cluny began to pace the room. Twice he wiped impatiently the beading per- spiration from his forehead. Finally, he burst forth with that vain railing against trouble which none but the most philosophic seem able to forbear. "It is like a nightmare. Could any one have imagined so impossible, so diabolical a coincidence? There were a million, ten hundred million chances against it!" Favereau's low voice answered, coldly inexorable, like the utterance of an oracle: 96 THE SECRET ORCHARD " But there was ofU for it. When a man puts his happiness to the chance, he stakes to lose, sooner or later." The Duke stared at him. It is doubtful whether, in the agonising strain of grappling with an insoluble problem, these words of useless wisdom conveyed any meaning. •• What is to be done ? What is to be done ?' he re- peated feverishly. " I feel as if my head were going." "Keep it on your shoulders," said Favereau, this time not unkindly. " You will want it just now." The Duke flung hin^self back into his chair and made a painful effort at self-command. " Advise me," he said. " I will do anything you tell me. . . . Shall I invent an excuse and leave the house now, before I meet her?" Favereau came round to his friend's chair, sat down and turned towards him eyes in which severity had almost merged into pity — eyes wise and sad, not unlike those of a physician by the bedside of a hopeless case. "What would be the use of that?" he asked gently. "A mere putting off" of the evil moment, with added complications." " Shall I see her secretly, then? Give her money, send her away, secure her departure, her silence, at any price?" "Edward," cried Favereau, and threw hands and eyes upward*; "you may well say your head is going. What, man, give Helen's happiness into such keeping ? " THE SECRET ORCHARD 97 The Duke seemed to collapse, physically and mentally. " Then tell me for pity's sake," he exclaimed in an almost extinguished voice, " what is to be done." It has been said that the test of courage is respon- sibility. M. Favereau was one of those men who are bound to succeed as leaders in whatever walk of life they may choose, partly owing to this very quality of being willing and able to bear responsibility, partly because of his extraordinary promptitude in weigh- ing chances and making up his mind to a definite course of action in an emergency. He did not now hesitate in his advice upon a complication so hideous to a chivalrous mind that the wisest might well have faltered. ' " There are two courses open to you," he answered in his clear, didactic voice. "One is God's way. The other the devil's way. The first is to make a clean breast of it to Helen, and then to try and start afresh, and build a new life together out of the ruins of the old." Cluny had started to his feet. "It would kill her! " he cried, and the look he cast upon his coun- sellor was unconsciously one of fierce reproach. Favereau's lips were twisted under his moustache with a smile of indescribable bitterness. By so much as his power of love was greater than that of the wretched man before him ; by the breadth of the gulf that divided his stainless constancy to a woman he had given up from the easy sophistry of her husband's infidelity; by the diflference between a 7 98 THE SECRET ORCHARD light nature and an earnest one; by all such measure seemed his own agony for Helen incomparably greater than that of his friend. Since the fatal situation had become revealed to him his soul had never ceased to lament within him with the cry of helpless tenderness: "Helen/ What will become of Helen f Why did I give her up f She would have loved me. I w . tH have understood her, I was worthy of her." To the r^ ssion of the secret lover was added the pathetic yearning of a father's protec- t.ve tenderness towards the little girl whose innocent lips had kissed him so often, whose arms had clung round his neck, who- in her ripe womanhood still turned to him for help with the old child-like con- fidence. He folded his arms, clutching his hands upon them with iron tension. "Kill her?" he echoed, after a moment's pause. " Very likely. But there are other things to consider than mere life. That is the right course." "I canrot, I cannot!" cried Cluny, piteo^ For a second he had tried to face the prospect, and even in thought had quailed hopelessly before it. "She trusts me, Favereau: think of her trusting eyes! She believes in me, how could I tell her? She could not understand. Oh, she's not one of those women who could understand! She never knew evil in her life. Favereau, I cannot." Favereau's lean face remained impassive, but there was a slight relaxation of the tense muscles. "I never thought you could," he answered, with cold contempt In his heart he had dreaded with a THE SECRET ORCHARD 99 ventable terror lest his own Spartan advice should be TTli""^ ^'l ''''^^"^ '•^^"^^ ^' struck with such on!r 1 .^-J? ! "^'"'^ ^'^ ^"'*"^*^' ""crossed his legs, and laid his hands upon his knees -" there 's the other way — the devil's way." .. v''M\*^l "*?"'' '"O'^'" ^"*** Cluny. savagely: t IS fit he should show the way » ^ .nH?". ^' '*'.' ".'"'^ *^' *''^"''- " Sit down. Edward, to bra?e"nr''^' ^"' " "°*''"^fo' y^'"' *^n. »>« o niX r "'""' °"'- 'f "^'^" ^^^ "°t J^now fJ^Lk' ^°"'" °^" ''P^' *^^ ""«t never know. , J^'^^k"^'"' '^^*' ^^"^ ****^" ""S^^'y ««t«^nin& hoping agaunst hope for sonie solution, relapsed i^to'f^S "But. my God! "said he. "the girl? She cannot but recognise me." ^«nnoi 'i^e shall not recognise you," said Favereau lookmg at him with icy determination ^*^"*^*"' exp^y^^ ^"^ "°' "^"^ •""' ^"^ '^*^^^<^"'« s«ke. "You were not wont to be so dull of wit." said cZT' ""r '^""y- " This creature, this g rl, this ch Id has met a certain Monsieur Le Chevalier. She has never laid eyes on the Duke of Cluny. Do you understand now?" ^ you folSrj r' ^ 'J*'^ "^ °f J°yf"' apprehension. loo THE SECRET ORCHARD "What an infamous part to play I" he murmured, and covered his face with his hands. Favereau, with the first show of anger he had allowed to escape him during the interview, struck him on the shoulder. "Come, Edward," he exclaimed, "this will not do. You dare not play the weakling now, after playing the — well, the fool. God, man, you must act ! You must deceive, you must lie. Ah, you had not so many scruples of conscience about lying when it was merely a question of your pleasure, Monsieur Le Chevalier I Lie now, Duke of Cluny, for your wife's sake. Lie your hardest. Lie like a man I " Cluny groaned aloud. "Oh," pursued Favereau, stamping his foot, "you have the curse of your race upon you. Foolhardy to madness in the courting of useless danger, weaker than water when the time has come for dec'sion. Forget — forget you are a Stuart. Be a scoundrel, since now you must, but be a man ! " The other raised his face, "^ looked up in an agony. " I would rather die, and have done with it." " Of course you would," cried Favereau, with pas- sionate scorn. " I expected no less than that. A ball through the head: infallible remedy for the coward, for the base. But you must live, Edward, live and take your punishment — for Helen's sake." Cluny rose stiffly. " You have said enough," he replied, livid, but suddenly composed. " I am quite ready. — But what if the girl begins by making a scene before Helen ? Have you thought of that? " i\. THE SECRET ORCHARD lOI " Have I thought of that! " The Minister nearly laughed. " You must meet her first alone, of course. Leave it to me, I will contrive it." "And then," said Cluny, •• the danger will be but beginning. Oh, you do not know what a being you have to deal with ! " "I do not know her," said Favereau, relentlessly; "but she shall be made to see that here she must hold her tongue upon her past. And then we must get her out of the house at the first opportunity. Soon. To-morrow, if possible. Oh, that ought to be easy enough : your wish is law here. And Helen — God bless her I — is not hard to deceive. At any rate you know how to do it." Again Cluny let the sneer pass, with the callousness of his overwhelming despair. "You can feign jealousy," pursued Favereau, *• boredom, antipathy." "Antipathy!" echoed the Duke, with what was almost a sob. "I had rather be in hell than under the same roof with her and Helen." CHAPTER XI FAVEREAU went to the heavy ..or that gave upon the hall and set it ajar. With a faint astonishment in his weary eyes the Duke looked after him. "Helen is coming," said the older man simply. And. indeed, as he spoke, the note of Helen's voice was heard outside. But an hour ago on the terrace this sensation of his wifes approach had brought the husband a sense of inexpressible comfort. Now his heart almost stopped with the apprehension of it The room was too dully lit for Favereau to see his friends face, but he seemed to divine the terror which hesitated on the point of flight. "Tranquillise yourself," he said, closing the door for a second to speak into the room. "Helen is alone; 't is early yet." He now threw the door open. Helen was stand- ing in the hall talking to Blanchette. Brilliant light ghnted on her soft brown hair, on the fair neck, on the priceless pearls, which Cluny vowed were the only jewels worthy to lie on that satin skin. Blanchette's deep-toned visage shone with a glow which seemed ^, THE SECRET ORCHARD 103 to emanate as much from the content within as from the illumination without. Helen interrupted her conversation for a moment to smile at the two men, then she proceeded, enforc- ing her words with gentle gesture of her finger. "And then, Blanchette, when you have made her take the cup of broth, you must hurry back — back to Mademoiselle, I mean — and finish dressing her, just as you used to dress me. you know, when I was a girl And then, Blanchette, you must bring her down yourself, for she is shy, poor little thing. Bring her to me here, in the library." She patted the mulatto's arm; then swept into the room, passed Favereau swiftly, with just a smiling glance as he closed the door behind her, went straight to the motionless figure of her husband and laid both her hands upon his shoulders. " Ah, truant." said she. " how I have missed you ! " All the harmony of her love and happiness filled her voice with music. Cluny, with an effort, opened his lips to answer, but she placed her finger upon them. "Hush," she cried; "no excuses, sir." Then, laying her head against his neck, she went on, with a deeper note of tenderness, "Cluny, my beloved I wanted to thank you." ' Favereau made an unobtrusive movement as if intent on a discreet exit, but she arrested him. " Stay, Favereau," said she, merely turning her head to look at him, "stay and hear what a happy woman yotf made of me." I04 THE SECRET ORCHARD Favereau stood, as ordered, with his hand still on the door handle. Even with his absolute self-control he could not conjure up a smile, much less a gay word in answer; and he was thankful for the shadows that made this unresponsiveness pass unnoticed. With his free hand he made a sign at which Helen laughed, interpreting good-humoured remonstrance. " Oh, you lovers I " she read in his gesture. Cluny, to whom it was addressed, read more truly, " I am' at my post. Have courage." And he drew a deep breath. ^ "Cluny," Helen went on, "you never will allow me to thank you for all your goodness to me. But I must, I must to-day, for my heart is overflowing. Since that child has crossed our threshold I feel as if the one thing wanting to my happiness had come to complete it. Oh, my dear husband, you have never once let me guess how you must feel the emptiness of our home, lest I should take it as a reproach to myself— I who have given you no children! And now, because my heart yearned to this mother- less girl, you bid me take her to it, and never think of grudging me the only joy of motherhood I can hope to taste. God will reward you. God will reward you, not only for the good deed to the poor orphan, but for your goodness to your happy wife I " There was a pause. Her head sank lower on his breast. Neither man spoke or moved. " Oh, how hard your heart is beating, Cluny I " The Duchess raised herself to peer into his face. THE SECRET ORCHARD 105 n He was well outside the circle of the lamplight, and it was evident she could see nothing unusual in his expression. " Well," she went on, full of the gentle egoism of her new charity, " I have told Gioja that this is now her home till she finds a better one ; that she is never to feel desolate again, never to know what it is to miss a mother's care." She emphasised each " never " by a soft beat of her hands against her husband's breast. It was to him as if those tender hands were irrevo- cably riveting the chains of his undoing. " I have told her that I am her godmother. I cannot think I have done wrong in this, for I feel that she is indeed sent by God to be my child. Ah, it was touching I I wish you could both have seen her face when I brought her into her pretty pink room, and showed her all the things I had prepared for her." She dis- engaged herself from her husband's encircling arms and stood smiling at her own recollections, gazing at the blazing logs. The firelight played on her face, a sight more heartrending in its placidity just then to the two who watched her than if it had been con- vulsed with tears. " I have been inspired, I think, for Blanchette vows that, with the help of a few stitches, Gioja will be able to wear to-night one of the gowns I have had made for her. It is just suited to her — fresh, girlish, spotless. Favereau, don't you think she has a dear pretty face?" Cluny suddenly caught his wife to his breast. Had it been her dead body that he was clasping to him instead of this happy, loving, living, responsive io6 THE SECRET ORCHARD frame, there could not have been • purer agony in ills passion. • 7 - "Clunyl" she cried, rebulcingly, "Clunyl" But it was .mpoMible to keep from her voice a note of exultant pride. Blushing and smiling, she disengaged herself, and Bung a ,hy glance over her shoulder couple, she said. Favereau swallowed a lump in his throat. In his effort to speak naturally his voice was perhaps a trifle harder than usual. " I don't want to throw cold wtttr on your enthu- siasm, my dear." said he. •• but I do think a couple that adopts a grown-up infant very foolish indeed. I hope that the young lady with the curious name may turn out as desirable an inmate of your house M you fondly hope. But if Cluny should find her Mhlre -!!!-"'' ''*^' ■^*'' **'' '" 'P'** **^ •*•» 8°^ He paused upon the doubt. Helen's face fell, as openly as a child's. ' " Oh. Favereau I " "Don't be afraid. Helen." said Cluny. hoarsely. thli i "'^"' **"* »»ything_ wilfully- to bring tnat shadow into your eyes." the^dZ'^!""*!*"'^.***"' *"'' "•■'**« ^«^Oi'<^"«» ioated i!,': '"''*"'' ^"^*' '" '^ ^'^»» »'"«-9i?. "Mind the steps. Mamzell. dey uncommon slippy I » Cluny started, and flung a desperate look at hb fnend. The latter, however, apparenUy quite im- THE SECRET ORCHARD 107 perturbable, itepped out of the library into the hall and closed the door behind him. "Ah, there comet the little one!" cried Helen and moved swiftly acrou the room to receive the new object of her delight. She found the handle held without; and as .. amazement she exclaimed and turned again to hei husband, Favereau quieUy reentered, closed the door behmd him and put his back against It "What is it?" saidHelea "Oh, nothing." said Favereau, smiling quite airily. .u.r'l/.. ***''* y**" disturbed just before dinner, that 's all." Cluoy turned sharply away from his petrified altitude of watching, and, leaning his elbow on the manUe-shelf, supported his averted head upon his hand. "But what is it?" repeated Helen. " Only, my dear St Elizabeth, some silly servants- talk about the young woman whom you took into your house to-day being — well, rather bad." "Bad!" echoed Helen, in her eager way. She stretched her hand to push his aside from the door handle. "Nonsense," said Favereau, holding on with determined grip. "I will not have you go to her now. She is well looked after; I know you have seen to that What further good could you do? " "What good?" cried the Duchess, indignantly. Help her to live, or help her to die I " Again she laid her hand upon his, found herself io8 THE SECRET ORCHARD impotent against his strength. With a flash of her eyes she turned swiftly and left the room by the opposite door, all thought for the moment obliterated but the single one that her charity was needed. Favereau released the door handle, drew a deep breath and wiped the perspiration from his brow. CHAPTER XII DERE, Mamzell ! the girl's sash. said Blanchette and patted Upon the threshold she had delayed the triumphant entry to retie the silken folds. And very proud she was of the effect of all this dainty lace and muslin. Blanchette, with the inherited subserviency of generations, would no more have dreamed of forming an individual opinion where a decision of her beloved mistress was in question than she would have thought of interfering with a law of nature. She had therefore adopted the new-comer with a heartiness all the more enthusiastic perhaps that her fellow servants (" dat rubbish ! ") unanimously condemned the innovation. With the familiarity of the old retainer she nowplaced her broad dark hand in the centre of the girl's slender waist, and propelled her into the room ; then looked round, one triumphant grin, for her mistress. The subsequent expression of disappointment upon her dusky visage was almost burlesque. " Missie said I should find her here, Massa Fave- reau." "Unfortunately," answered Favereau— the man had seemingly nerves of iron, and to Cluny, who no THE SECRET ORCHARD would have waited for the hour of his execution with a hghter heart, the sound of the kind, bantering cvery-day tone was almost divine in its encourage- ment -" unfortunately, my good Blanchette. I was imprudent enough to repeat to the Duchess just now some HtUe phrase I heard you let fall as you came down about the woman. - Rose, I think you called ner. And the Duchess has flown to her." The negress clucked her tongue noisily. " If dat am t Missie all over ! And Mamzell such a pictur'! " " Well," said Favereau, •■ the Duke is here, you know. He and I meanwhile can admire the picture, cant we? Go and help your mistress." He clapped her on her fat shoulder as, grinning again, she dropped her dip. *^*^ " Come in. Mademoiselle," said he; and once more resummg his functions at the door, he closed it upon the outer world. "Dear me, how dark it is I I do not thmk you have yet been introduced to the Duke." He walked over to the writing-table and quietly lifted the green shade from the lamp. The little figure near the door paused, hesitating, blender arms falling loosely, bare to the elbow; small hands just clasped by the finger-tips ; small head bent on a young slight neck; curls, of the texture and colour as a rule only seen on very young children, glimmering in the light- for the rest, all snowy, diaphanous white, falling around the shapely slender outline. As Favereau turned to look at her the whole affair THE SECRET ORCHARD III t seemed to him a monstrous nightmare. For a second the impulse to call to his friend : " Wake up, man, and look; we have been dreaming! " A-as so strong upon him that it drove him to a silence of hesitation — silence during which the ancient clock ticked out a quarter of a minute of suspense such as it surely had never measured for human being before during the long years of its mechanical existence. It has already been said, however, that J^avereau was not of those that hesitate. " Cluny ! " he called. The Duke heard the warning in his voice. Good blood — and, after all, his was good blood — cannot fail, says the French proverb. The royal blood within him mustered now in Cluny's veins with a new desperate courage to help him — for Helen's sake — " to lie like a man ! " He was ducal, urbane, courte- ous, dignified, absolutely master of the situation, as he advanced to take his guest's hand and bid her welcome to his house. " Mademoiselle," said he, " I am charmed to make your acquaintance." At his first accent the sombre eyes flashed wide in her small face. For a second she stared as if unable to credit the evidence of her senses. The next mo- ment an extraordinary colour, an extraordinary light overspread her countenance. It was as if flower of snow had suddenly turned to flower of summer flame. She bounded forward, and seized the outstretched hand in both of hers, with ringing cry : •• Monsieur Le Chevalier ! . . . " 112 THE SECRET ORCHARD Favereau, watching (to recur to the old simile much as the physician by the bedside watches tl approach of the crisis, now perceived with gather! n dismay a new and possibly fatal complication : S/te loved him I This creature, the wanton chili the living problem that had startled the seasoned ma of the world with vistas of unknown depravity — si loved him ! A fresh sweat of horror broke upon the Minister forehead. With mere perversity he had felt readi brutally ready, to deal. But all his manhood recoile at the thought of throwing the first stone at the littl sinner who had sinned through love. He withdre into the shadow. The Duke, on the other hand, seemed to hav become hardened by sheer stress of circumstance: both morally and physically, to a white, marbl callousness. His acting was almost too perfec More surprise, not to say some show of discorr posure, might better have met the extraordinar situation. The coolness, however, with which h disengaged his hand, the mocking bow, and faint elevation of eyebrows which accentuated reply, were convincing enough for the morr.nt. "The Duke of Cluny, at your service," said urbanely correcting an .ibsurd error. She fell back a step ; her colour faded. A sort o mask seemed to fall upon the eager face; the ligh in the eyes went out. " The Duke of Cluny I " she repeated, in a bewil dered tone; and on the instant she was again th( th hi he 'vor SEEM TO BE MISLED BY SOME CURIOUS RESEMBLANCE,' SAID THE DUKE, IN HIS ICE-COLD V01CE."~Page //J. THE SECRET ORCHARD 113 artless maiden. A short silence ensued; the some- thing abnormal in the very air, the tension between the two men so painfully obvious to themselves, could not but become perceptible to her. Once more the scorching flame of her gaze leaped up to the Duke's face ; and then, with a scream : " No ! " she cried, . " Monsieur Le Chevalier ! " " You seem to be misled by some curious resem- blance," said the Duke, in his ice-cold voice ; " but pray allow me to assure you that I am the Duke of Cluny." The girl stood as if arrested on a spring, her hands clenched together, her gaze searing his face and figure. Again there seemed to come for a second a doubt within her, a transient conflict ; but only for a second. Her countenance grew distorted. " You may be the Duke of Cluny," she said, in a hoarse whisper, "but you are " She broke off, and the look, the very pause, were a more terrible indictment than speech. Cluny was smiling. "There is evidently some mystery here," said he. "You are agitated. Made- moiselle." His composure was ghastly. " Come, sit down, and tell me all about it. 'T is a case of mis- taken identity, evidently. Most curious! I have heard of such complete resemblances: they lead sometimes to droll misunderstandings, it is said. So I am very like a friend of yours?" He pushed a chair towards her, and, leaning over the back of it, looked at her, still smiling. She remained standing, rigid. 8 114 THE SECRET ORCHARD " Very like," she answered slowly, in her strangled whisper. "Ah I " commented he — there was nothing but his pallor to betray that he was fighting a duel to the death — "some old friend of yours, I suppose? Some dear friend?" "Dear!" she echoed. Her young voice broke " Yes, my God I " The pause came again. She stood clenching and unclenching her hands, her frame torn with a passion such as happily the majority of women never know- A kind of sob broke from her, an j the Duke felt that if he were to emerge victorious he must allow him- self no more such breathing spaces or his courage to strike would fail him. " Will you not sit down?" he urged benevolently. "Will you not tell me what is the matter? Is it, perhaps, some little affair of the heart?" She gave a stifled scream ; it would have been hard to say whether of anguish or rage. With chin craned forward, lips parted, blazing eyes, the veritable image of a young fury, a torrent of abuse was rising in her throat But the steady inflexible look of the Duke, the heavy silence, the very luxury of the room, seemed to overawe her suddenly. She swayed, fell into the chair offered to her and rocked herself to and fro, holding her hands to her lips with a school- girl gesture of self-repression. All at once she looked up at the tall figure beside her. "Oh, you— you!" she began below her breath; then stopped. THE SECRET ORCHARD «>5 The Duke laid his finger gently on her shoulder. Do not forget," said he. "that you are speaking to the Duke of Cluny." ^ With a swift, feline movement she caught his hand as he was about to withdraw it. For a second she held It, looked at it; then, kissing it fiercely on the palm, flung it from her with a laugh that wiis struggling with sobs. "And do you dare say," she cried, risin«, "that I have not kissed that hand before? " Her hysterical laughter fell hideously upon the mens ears. Slipping her little fingers under the folds of muslin at her neck, she pulled forward a stnng of magnificent pearls. A moment's hesitation now, the Duke felt, would be fatal. " Mademoiselle," said he, for the first time drop- ping his cloak of light courtesy and allowing a tone of grave warning to sound in voice and words. Mademoiselle, had you not better control' yourself ... and try to realise the situation ? " He spoke the last words with slow, emphatic meaning. A hush fell .n the girl. She listened and was silent, as if revolving the hidden purport of the phrase. It seemed to Favereau from his corner that upon her face, by turns mask-like and quivering with expression, he could now read every phase of her undisciplined, passionate soul. Before even she spoke again, by the tide of colour on her cheek, by the light of those eyes which Cluny had called devil- ii6 THE SECRET ORCHARD haunted, by the quiver of the lips, by the whole yield- ing of her being to an impulse of overpowering delight, he knew what hideous significance she had thought to find in his friend's caution. "Stay!" she cried, "stay!" She put out her hand, and it trembled, while her voice quivered with a lark-like note of joy. " Don't speak — let me think I This sudden change in my life, this adoption falling upon me from the skies without explanation — oh, I see it all! I see now! How blind, how stupid I have been 1 Ah, you did love me — you do love me, after all ! What does the rest, what does anything else matter I " She ran to him and seized his inertly pendent hand with both hers. In the horror of the comprehension of her thought, in the horror of the touch that conveyed such a meaning, the Duke recoiled almost wiUi violence. His self-possession failed him at last He groaned : " Great God I " Favereau saw that the time had come for his inter- ference. He advanced. " Forgive my interrupting," said he, placing him- self between the two. His calm authoritative voice fell like a stream of cool water upon the bubbling heat of their passion. Cluny flung him a quick look of grateful relief. The girl started with a sinuous angry movement, and turned upon the intruder like a little viper disturbed. She had forgotten his pres- ence in her all-absorbing emotion. Meeting his eye, however, she recoiled with something like fear. THE SECRET ORCHARD "7 "Mademoiselle," said he, "will you no* sit down again?" The courteous inviution was a command She sat down, and this Minister of France, who for the first time In his life had set his hand to do Ignoble work, felt that he might yet be master of the evil situation. "Edward," he went on, turning quietly to his friend, " perhaps you will allow me to under- take the task of making this young lady understand under what a fantastic delusion she is labouring." Cluny withdrew to his old post, the chimney-piece Favereau took a chair beside the girl. At any moment, he knew, Helen might break In upon them. As at the critical point of a battle, he felt that the decisive blow must be struck without sparing, yet with all deliberation. Indicating the Duke by a slight gesture: "Look well, Mademoiselle," said he, gravely yet not unkindly — "look well. Think, and recognise your mistake. There Is the Duke of Cluny, a gentle- man whom not only you have never met before, but one whom you could never have met before — you quite understand me, don't you?— whom you could not, by any possibility, have met before. That he recalls to you some person of your acquaintance can have nothing to do with him. Now, the Duchess of Cluny, I am told, has chosen you as the particular object of her benevolence. She has received you Into her house, she has promised to provide for you. The Duchess believes you, of course, tr je an Inno- cent, a well-brought-up girl, deserving this extra- ordinary favour." Ii8 THE SECRET ORCHARD Gtoja't great eyes, dark with dilating pupils, fixed upon the speaker's ^ace. became filled with a dawn- ing terror. The man proceeded incisively, waxing strong on his advantage : " The Duke of Cluny has made it his pride never to thwart his wife in her vocation of charity. He therefore consented to your introduction into the privacy of his house with characteristic generosity. But," said Favereau, with a deliberation which per- haps the cold indulgence of his tone rendered all the more cruel, •' the Duchess of Cluny's peace of mind is the first object of the Duke's life. He makes it his duty to protect her at. any cost from trouble or dis- appointment. No person would be allowed to re- main under his roof a single day who showed herself likely to bring sorrow or annoyance to his wife." The girl gasped. "What do you mean me to understand?" she asked, with dry lips, her gaze still riveted, as if fascinated, upon the bearded impassive face. "That the young lady," answered Favereau, "whom the Duchess honours with her protection must show herself, both as regards the past and the present, worthy of that honour." He paused to allow the words to sink in. Then he suddenly became genial, almost paternal. " It is evident," he went on, "that your mind, my child, as is not unusual with young people of your age, is filled with much romantic rubbish ; and that, excited no doubt by the strange circumstances attending your unex- pected good fortune, you have been tempted, on THE SECRET ORCHARD 119 entering this new life, to create sensation by turning the accident of a chance resemblance into a page of some favourite novel. Forget all this pernicious stuff." He dropped his playful tone for one of renewed gravity. " Remember only that your future is in your own hands — to make or to mar." She rose stiffly to her feet, and stretched out her arms towards the Duke with the single word: " Speak I " It was a helpless, frightened, childish appeal. " Mademoiselle," said Cluny, hoarsely, •• Monsieur Favt \ au has apoken for me." A little while she stood, looking swiftly from one to the other; in her eyes was the impotent rage, the agonising terror of a trapped arimal. Then she wrung her hands, and once again the unnatural look, the woman's look, of bitterness and suffering and passion convulsed her face. "You are brave, genUemen ..." she said at last, almost inaudibly. " Two men against a giri I " " Faugh I " said Favereau, in a savage whisper, to Cluny, as he brushed by him to replace the shade upon the lamp, "with what pitch are we here defiled I " Had they won? They could not know. Those little clenched hands still held the fate of all that made life beautiful to both of them. But if they had won, in truth the victory was bitter. i CHAPTER XIII THERE came a prolonged silence over the three : a heavy silence, in awful contrast with the inner clamour of their thoughts, and accen- tuated by the minor sounds within the room. A small flame voice sang sweetly and cheerily among the logs on the hearth. The solemn clock ticked on, every stroke of the pendulum falling upon the Duke's heart like the stroke of a hammer upon the coffin of his manly honour. The quavering chime struck the half-hour, a distant bell clanged. The dressing bell I Helen would soon be with them again ; the routine of life go on as usual. His very soul turned sick. Neither of the men looked at each other. There are moments when each knows too well the other's thoughts to dare to let eyes commune. The girl stood with bent head, a sullen lip out-thrust, plucking at the folds of her sash. Thus Helen found them. A moment she stood, looking in upon them ; and Favereau alone had presence of mind enough to advance and smile. Her eyes swiftly sought the little white figure. 'now, clcny, what do you think of Mr DAUGHTER? ' " — Page 121. THE SECRET ORCHARD 121 " What ! — Joy 1 " she cried : thus, after the eternal mother-fashion had Helen already shortened her new daughter's name. Then she broke into a merry laugh. " What a baby ! Look at the poor child, not daring to open her lips between these two great men ! " She came forward, draperies flowing, motherly arms outstretched. Gathering the girl to her she looked, gently mocking, from her husband to Favereau. " I believe -- really one would say — she has fright- ened them as much as they have frightened her. Have you spoken to my husband, little Joyf " "Yes, Madame." Words barely breathed, long black lashes sweeping the wan cheeks. "It was very terrible, was it not?" said the Duchess, with the tenderest banter. " Yes, Madame." Helen kissed her. " There, she ought not to have been deserted. Why, she is trembling all over, poor child!" The Duchess turned upon Favereau in mock indignation: "It is all your fault, sir. You picked up the wrong end of the story, you old busy- body. My patient is very weak, yet better, I think. But " — she interrupted herself with a gay change of voice, toying the while with the giri's fair curls — " but this is too sad a story for these earS. Time enough for them to learn the cruelty of the worid. Now, Cluny, what do you think of my daughter? " The man was forced to turn and look at them. The wife, standing close behind the girl, both hands upon. her shoulders and overtopping the fair head laa THE SECRET ORCHARD nearly by the height of her own, had placed her sweet, bright, confident face above the small white mask.' His wife's eyes, the truest and the most loving, were looking at him beside the unholy flame of those other eyes — the devil's eyes ! His glance sought Helen's first; then met that of Gioja. And there it rested. The girl's deep, inscrutable, defiant gaze never wavered for a second. Cluny, with narrowing lids, with contracting pupils and eyes growing steel-grey like a sword blade, threw all the power of his being into the endeavour to gain the mastery, to force her lids to drop. In this voice- less struggle the colour rose to his cheeks. At last, with a bitter smile, hp recognised that he was more than matched. But at least the very feeling of battle well engaged now braced his nerve. "It is a little difficult," he said steadily, "to be called upon to pronounce so soon upon a stranger." As he spoke he felt the sudden comfort of Fave- reau's presence at his side. "It is to be hoped," said the Minister's gently sarcastic voice, "that the new daughter may never bring a cloud to the mother's face." The giri shifted her glance quickly to him; but then it quailed and fell. The entrance of the servants with lights and the sound of the oddly matched brothers' voices on the stair broke up the fitful colloquy and distracted Helen's mind from a sense of vague disappointment and intangible strain. THE SECRET ORCHARD 123 " My dear Cluny," she cried suddenly, running her eyes over his grey figure ; " not dressed yet ! " Cluny, with his expressive French gesture, glanced down at his clothes, and moved towards the door. Here Favereau followed him and caught him by the shoulders. " So far we are safe," whispered he, as he sped him with what seemed to the onlookers a good-natured push. " I told you how it would be," said Cluny, •* It is hell." " No," answered the other, with the most melan- choly cynicism ; " only the road to it" CHAPTER XIV ANATOU:, Mi.;quis de Lormes, Comte de Fairapol et de Sermonec, chef du nom et des armes, better known among his peers and inti- mates as " Totol " (and it must be admitted that the more familiar appellation suited him best) — the Marquis " Totol "- preceded his tall half-brother into the room, shooting his cuflfs as he came. His goggling eyes rolled, and as they caught sight of Gioja. his meagre countenance proclaimed hltS't J'lf ^^l^ ^^^ °^ ^^^ ^"«^' °» '»»« other hand kindled as they rested on the girl's fair head Helen was at that moment engaged in a motherly scrutiny of her new daughter's toilet. They made a pretty picture with the flicker of the fire upon them - the gracious woman at the zenith of her beauty, and the girl — " Stonding with reluctant feet Where the brook and river meet, Womanhood and childhood fleet" So thought the sailor, who liked old-fashioned poetry and cherished those old-fashioned ideals which ^e still kept alive more faithfully, perhaps, m the New World than in the Old. THE SECRET ORCHARD 125 "Too bad of Helen," said the present representa- tive of the Lormes, aside to Favereau, "to spring this school-girl upon us. For me," said the little man, and shook his hoary young head, "the young girl, the French young person, especially when fresh from the convent, is absolutely nauseating. Ce que fa nt'embitet Positvvement fa me la coupe: The English miss, i la bonne heure ! And as for the American " He rapturously kissed his hand in the air. " But, oh, the young demoiselle — la, la!" "I can understand," said Favereau, with grim secret humour, " that you may have found that young lady preposterously unsophisticated. We were alone with her, the Duke and I, just now, and she made us pass a severe quarter of an hour." The Marquis pulled his india-rubber face into a knowing grimace. The next moment it became illumined, though scarcely beautified, by an ecstatic smile. For, with a rattle of bangles, a jingle of chains, a tap and a shuffle of little slippers, and a tremendous general frou-frou, Madame Rodriguez made her appearance on the scene. He fixed his single glass in his eye with some difficulty and much gnawing motion of the jaw. "There — ah, there's famous chic, real chlen, if you like! The very last howling pschutt, in short," he exclaimed rapturously under his breath, apprais- ing every item of toilet, figure, and impertinently pretty face. " CrAne, au moins, celle-ld — eh ? " Meanwhile Helen had been conversing in a soft undertone to her new-found cousin from over seas. 126 THE SECRET ORCHjfRD '* Yes," she said, after scrutinising his frank coun- tenance with kindly pleasure, " I remember you. He once came to Paris, Joy, to visit us from America, that great country of his -and of mine, though I have never seen it; -you know, even on the map. how far away it looks! He was a little boy then and I was quite a little girl. But he made a vast impression upon me. You called me a "cute little thing. • George, and said that was a ' cunning ' sort of dress we wore at the Blue Nuns. And though I wondered, I felt this was high praise. And he told me such wonderful stories of Indians and prairies and scalp-hunters and I know not what, and he pre- sented me with what he called * chew-gum. ' Don't you remember, Geoi^^e?" Her laugh rang out — the most heart-whole, most musical laugh in all the world. ;• Why, certainly," said the American, in his deep voice, that gave one somehow the impression of a great reserve of strength and manliness, "I remem- ber you very well. But the picture of the little girl with her hair in two pigtails don't fit in somehow with that of my lady Duchess in her beautiful home. I have seen a deal of your modern Fiance these last lew weeks in the World's Show yonder, and if you '11 excuse me, it struck me as just a bit electro- plated. Therefore I feel it all the greater privilege to have an opportunity of making acquaintance with the real sterling thing. That 's what your home is : hall-marked, Helen, and no mistake." His blue eyes wandered from the carved stone THE SECRET ORCHARD 127 chimney-piece, with its faded yet warmly tintcu armorials, to the groups of tattered colours on the walls between the great book-cases — glorious rags that had seen such days and weathered such storms that barely a gleam of blue or red here and there betrayed which had been Highland fanion, which blue cross of French Stuart regiment. What is there in the sight of old colours that moves the heart so strangely? Why are they more eloquent of pathos, of patriotism, of the stress and grandeur of conflict than even the dead hero's sword or the ruined stronghold? The republican's eyes kindled as they fell on these relics. From thence they travelled to the celebrated royal portrait, en- throned between the yellowing silk folds and broid- ered fleurs-de-lys of a French standard (this had evidently faced no crueller weapon than a lady's needle) and a tartan plaid so indescribably faded that it seemed to have borrowed the tints of the wild moorland and dying heather over which it had once brawly fluttered. There the face of the second James, in his beautiful princely boyhood, looked forth from under haughty drooping lids. "By Jingo," said the sailor, "you bet that little fellow knew he was a Duke, anyhow! Ancestor, Helen? But I need not ask. I don't set up for being art-wise, but your husband's very eyes seem fixed on one from that canvas. My, but it must be a great work 1 " "That is our celebrated Vandyck," said Helen, 128 THE SECRET ORCHARD well pleased; "it is indeed an ancestor of Cluny's: James the Second, when he was Duke of York." " The sort of fellow that makes one seem kind of small, somehow," said Lieutenant Dodd, with his good-humoured laug^. Then, with a start, he dis- covered the white figure of Gioja at his elbow. She too was gazing up at the picture with lips a little parted. His face softened as he looked down at her. " A lovely boy, is he not ? " he said. And in ,-ddress- ing her his voice took an extraordinarily gentle note. She flashed her dark eyes at him with a flutter of the eyelids which covered their secret fire and gave a sort of virginal timidity to the glance quite in keeping with her present attitude. " Yes, sir," said she, in her pretty foreign English. Favereau, with his back to the fire and his hands behind him, seemingly indifferent, closely watched the moving group. "This American, now . . ." he was thinking. "A new complication. Stay — a solution, per- chance, to the problem!" The gladness of the thought struck him promptly with a sting of shame. With what fearful ease does poor humanity glide upon the downward slope I Pure honour had always been such an integral part of this man's soul that hitherto he had no more con- templated the possibility of losing it than of losing his identity. And now he was planning an honest fellow's undoing ! How could Edward have hoped to keep up his THE SECRET ORCHyfRD 129 •ystematic deviation into secret orchards, and there- after resume unscathed his honoured way on the straight path of life, when his own one step from the high table-land of righteousness had already sent him — him, Favereau — spinning towards God knows what depths ! Ah, that shame should dog a thought of his ! Hfc looked sombrely at the sailor's face — a face in which the story of an elementally virile soul was written as upon an open book. Mr. Dodd's creed was simple enough to read: love of his country, truth to himself, respect for women, and glory in his profession. He would live, and love, and work, and fight, and die without a questioning thought. But Favereau was not of those who disguise to themselves the responsibility of their own deeds. Darkly he knew, as he watched, that come what might, he would coldly let the unsuspecting sailor drift to his doom; that he would not lift a finger to save him. could he thereby secure one chance of saving Helen from the awakening that menaced her. Absorbed in these moods, he was startled by a fierce feminine whisper in his ear; by the clutch of a small hand upon his sleeve. In the desire to share her immediate emotion with a mind more capable of intelligent response than that dwelling in the dwindled skull of the Marquis "Totol," Nessie had figuratively and literally seized upon her old friend. "Well, and what is your impression, Minister, of 9 ijo THE SECRET ORCHARD the new imporUtion ? " she murmured, vindictively jerking her head in the direction of Gioja. "Our fine sailor'hero seierot to approve of it, anyhow. I don't believe he has eyes to see anything else." She shook out her rosy draperies with a deep sense of waste, of unappreciated merit. "As for Helen, she '• floating in a kind of holy cloud of joy —Joy ! " She sniffed derisively. " Is n't it a dear little ihno- cent? Does n't she look as if butter would n't melt in her mouth, eh? Isn't it a sweet little babe-in- the-wood, that has never seen anything but robins and leaves, eh? My I" There was stiletto sharp- ness in each "eh," culminating in the shrillness of the last ejaculation. . It was like finally turning the blade in the wound. " I do agree with Aunt Harriet -- old cat f — for once in my life (though I would n't give her the satisfaction of telling her so for worlds), but I do agree that this is quite the worst of Helen's follies. Of course, you men are always taken with a pretty face; but I reckon you will side with me. Minister, that, for mere simpleness, the idea of getting the Duke to adopt an infant of that size and description, well — it 's beyond words I If that girl," she pursued, after a sufficiently eloquent pause, "does not make us all sit up before the week is out, my name ain't Nessie Rodriguez." "Well, of course," answered Favereau, smoothly, with an inner dreary appreciation of his own irony, "you can only expect us* men, as you say, to be in favour of the pretty face. " "Oh! I know," said the lady, with cheerful con- THE SECRET ORCHARD ,3, terapt. you are just a« great a goose at heart as all the rest, or you would n't be a man, dear sir. My I I do wonder sometimes how the same Creator came to make us both; I expect when the Almighty took Adam s rib. He extracted the better half of his brains at the same time. There 's that Rodriguez. IZ .• I ""^r' ***^ * '*""' '™" •»'" ' »»« «y he •; very sicL He's got influenza. I know what that means. Now. a woman would be cute enough to have measles, or diphtheria, or cholera, or something. for a variety. There's never been a man that 's had reflectively. "It's a very expensive sickness, but he s had it once too often this time." Favereau laughed, but made no comment. Under the light of the reading lamp the Marquis de Lormei was engaged in pruning his favourite finger-nail with a gold-mounted penknife. His whole face was puck- ered into lines of deep earnestness. Helen's clear voice rose in the silence. .^M iJ'l^^'?:" "'** ^" "^y*"*' "''^'^^ the ^ i^*/?^^,^ ^* ^^""y* '^* «'*"*'''°» 0^ Jame* the Sewnd (the last Stuart King of England. Joy), took at Fontenoy. He was only a comet then. Bu[ under the lead of his cousin, the gallant Berwick, he charged the Hanoverians at th*- head of the King's Household. You may not know, my little girl, that you are actually under the roof of the last male descendant of the royal race of Stuart." Gioja looked down, and toyed with the fringe of her sash; then she said, in a small, hesitating voice . •• 132 THE SECRET ORCHARD "The Duke of Cluny, then, ought to be King of England?" Nessie caught the words, and burst into a loud derisive cackle; while the Marquis de Lormes, now polishing the amended nail on the seam of his trou- sers, looked up from his final and satisfied contem- plation of the result with a snigger. "A real daisy, isn't she? "said Madame Rodri- guez, in her acute contempt forgetting to modulate her accents. The sailor looked round at her with stem eyes. "We cannot expect Miss Joy," said he, "to under- stand the intricacies of a Stuart pedigree, Madame Rodriguez." In thilt bilingual household, where almost as much English was spoken as French, Helen's pet name for "her child" was already adopted; and it seemed to cleave to the girl. Helen had flushed under the implied rebuke. In France the jeutujl//* is hemmed in much like a state criminal ; but the care with which all knowledge of the outer world is kept from her ears is nothing to the respect with which the emancipated daughter of America, free to roam the world alone if she choose, is treated in her own country by those who accept the trust of her freedom. The fluttering query of Joy's surprised eyes, how- ever, demanded an answer. This Helen gave with an embarrassment that sat somewhat pathetically on her " No, dear child, it is as Mr. Dodd says. And — well, at any rate, the English would not acknowledge the claim." THE SECRET ORCnARD ^33^ "Well," said Nessie, coming briskly forward, and taking the girl by the elbow with a vivacity which just fell short of a shake, "now you 're in the house of a real Stuart, anyhow, and if you know your his- tory, you must feel that it 's a right-down romantic situation. My I Helen, you remember, at the con- vent, how we used to dream about the Young Pre- tender; the wondrous romances we made up about helping him to escape from his enemies, hiding with him, giving our lives to save him in his wan- derings as Monsieur ie Chevalier Douglas:* While she was speaking Cluny had returned quietly to the room in unimpeachable evening attire. He was advancing towards the group, when Toy slowly raised her eyes and looked at him. He stopped, as if brought up by an invisible barrier. "Indeed, Madame," said the girl then, "I, too have had dreams about the pretender, Monsieur le Chevalier. " As she spoke her fingers suddenly closed upon the fringe she was playing with, and with incredible strength tore the silk cord in twa None marked her attitude except the Duke himself and Nessie. The former turned abruptly away, the latter flew like a butterfly across the room back again to Favereau. and caught him by the sleeve. "I say. Monsieur Favereau, did you see the look the innocent orphan threw at the Duke just now? What IS Helen about? What is she doing? Oh I do want to know!" Favereau put up his eye-glass: "At this moment. 134 THE SECRET ORCHARD Madame, the Duchess seems to be explaining the nature of the contents of a case of decorations to the interesting young lady she has adopted." Madame Rodriguez stamped her foot with fury "Oh, you men!" she cried, "I do despise you! You never see what 's under your nose." Favereau brought the eye-glass to focus on her little foot. "I see, Madame," said he, without any change of tone, "the foot of Cinderella in the slipper of the princess. " Nessie's wrath fell from her on the instant. A slow smile spread over her dusky face. "You like it.?"^he asked, coquetting. She pointed her toe from side to side, twitching her flounces daintily as she did so. "But what 's the use of it with these stupid skirts anyhow? " '' Madame," said Favereau, solemnly, " the inspired being who creates feminine fashions is fully aware that women's ingenuity amounts to genius. I think these skirts delightful. If a woman has a pretty foot, like truth — nay, like murder — the more you try to hide it, the more it will out." "Here is Maman," said Totol's pipy voice suddenly. II CHAPTER XV THERE was a general sensation. Totol upon one side, the Dukeiipin the other, advanced together, according to rule, to lead in the lady who, in a voluminous garment of purple silk and floating veils of black lace that exhaled faint odours of lavender and pepper, looked more imposing than ever. Her first glance was, as usual, a masterpiece of comprehensive disfavour upon the company at large. It took in the solid figure of her first son, who made no attempt to advance to her aid. Indeed, unless he had contented himself with propelling her from behind, there was nothing left for him to do in that respect. It next withered Favereau, first for the indecency of his -existing at all. secondly for his exalted position in the Government of an odious Republic. Neither Joy nor Nessie were forgotten • old scores were looked, with interest, at the latter;' while in the dart of displeasure vouchsafed towards the former there was a vivacity called forth by the freshness of a new grievance. "I trust you are more rested, dear Aunt," said Helen, gently. 136 THE SECRET ORCHARD ^m Under her guidance, the process of establishing the majestic relative in the armchair was accom- plished without a hitch. " There is no rest for me in this world," responded the high dame, sepulchrally. " I thank you, Charles- Edward," placing a still handsome foot, clad in a flat slipper, upon the proflFered footstool. " Anatole. mv shawl." ^ When the dutiful son had carefully enveloped his mother, he was peremptorily shown a high chair at her side. Having thus strategically divided him from the dangerous proximity of Madame Rodriguez the Marquise, with a sigh, folded her hands and pre- pared herself with '4n air of deep resignation for whatever conversation might be inflicted upon her. Feeling that the little figure seemed somewhat abandoned, Helen turned and boldly drew the girl into the fire-light circle. " We have yet to thank you. Aunt," said she, "for your kind care of this young traveller. I fear she is still too timid to speak for herself." "It did not strike me," responded the Marquise, without deigning to lift her heavy lids, "it did not strike me, Helen, during our weary journey to-day, that Mademoiselle's decided lack of conversation arose from timidity." **Ah!" cried Helen, gaily, "if you had seen her as I did just now. Fancy, Aunt; listen, Nessiej a cruel godmother actually left this unhappy child alone for five minutes with two great ogres of men I " THE SECRET ORCHJRJ) »37 The Duchess sat down on the sofa as she spoke and drew Joy by her side. Madame de Lomiei closed her eyes and leaned rigidly back upon her chair, everything in her attitude conveying that benevolent as she was. she could not be expected to listen to this sort of thing. But Helen pursued, smiling: * "If I could. I would show you the faces of the trio as I came in. She. this creature, was just like some poor little rabbit caught in a trap. And thev Favereau and Cluny. oh "- merriment overflowed her sweet lips- "I told them they looked more alarmed even than she." don'f^siyl"''"""'"'*^ ^"^^ sarcastically, "you Leaning on the back of the sofa, she had propped her chin upon her hands, and from this coign^rf "^wt "^^'^ "°? °"^y ^''^^'' audacious grimaces with the Marquis across his mother's deliberately unseeing countenance, but was also enabled to keep an alert eye upon the movements of the three men who m undertones were conversing in the distance The more, however, her intimate circle seemed disposed covertly to snub her pn,UgA, the more was Helen determined to carry oflF the situation in her own way. Feigning not to hear Nessie's jeer, she now continued to address the silent girl beside her m the former strain of tender gaiety. "Though men are such great big creatures, dear." she said, "and wear hair upon their faces, and have such strange ugly clothes, when you come to know ijS THE SECRET ORCHARD them you will really find that they are good, kind simple beings." • ' "And they are always particularly kind to little grls. interposed Madame Rodriguez, mimicking Helen s tone. " bless their simple hearts ! And they never, never want to eat them up. if they are good." Looking like a pretty Puck, she had thrust her face^between her friend and Joy. This time Helen was forced to take notice of her. "Hush, Nessiel Remember, if you please, that Joy has probably never seen a gentleman to speak to. except perhaps the chaplain or the school doctor " "Quite Eve before the fall, in fact," said Mrs. Nessie, drawing back to exchange a glance of mean- ing with the Marquis Totol. The latter could find no better way of expressing his delighted appreciation oC her wit than by crack' ing all his finger joints in turn -a token of admira- tion which, for want of a better, was sufficient to stimulate Nessie to further sparkles. "Quite Eve before the fall." she reiterated, "ain't It? Beg pardon though. Eve had been introduced to Adam, I believe. But Mademoiselle didn't seem to be 80 kind of skeary just now with your cousin, Mr. GeorgeP. Dodd." "Nessie," cried Helen, flushing, "you really must not." ' Here Madame de Lormes opened her eyes as sud- denly as a mechanical doll that is patted on the back. "Pray, Madame Rodriguez," she interpolated, "be THE SECRET ORCHARD 139 good enough not to drag the name of any son of mine into this foolish discussion." Upon this she immediately relapsed into her feint of slumber. Joy, immovable, save for the pluckinir fingers, suddenly shot a glance from the elder lady's large repressive profile to Nessie's small face, quiv- ering with mischief. Madame de Lormes sustained It, of course, with serene unconsciousness: but Nessie started with a little ciy that was more than half genuine. '• My r she exclaimed. " Don't I " and put up her fan as if for a screen. •• I say. Helen, the new pet seems like the celebrated old parrot: if it doesn't say much, it thinks a deal more. Her eyes are elo- quent enough, anyhow." Helen glanced down at the girl, saw nothing but long lashes trembling on small, pale cheeks. She flung her arm protectingly round her. In her gentle heart she was now as angry with Nessie as she could be angry with any one; but she was still resolved not to betray it. her one desire being to keep the poor httle stranger from any suspicion of unwelcome: After noting the action, Madame Rodriguez pro- ceeded in her high nasal tone of irony : "Butwemust not tell her that, must we? Orshe would never dare to raise them again. She 's so shy, you know." Glancing round, she caught Cluny s intent look upon the group; and. inspired by afresh imp. she hailed him. "Say, Duke vou come right along here a minute. Seems you 've been and gone and frightened a bashful lamb. sfl I40 THE SECRET ORCHARD mi Come right here, you bad wolf, and tell her that you never harmed. youth and innocence in y.ur life- and that you just love to watch the dear little white' woolly darlings gambol on the green." I ?""L '?°** * "°'"*"^ ^^ '«^t as if tunied to lead. He heard his wife's rebuking voice. " Nessie. Nessie. you 're too bad I" and then the exquisite carws of her tone to Joy : " You must not mind her. •he 8 only a wicked tease." Then she spoke to him. There was a special accent in her voice reserved for mm only. It pierced him now to the marrow. Yes, come to us. Cluny," she was saying, "and make amends. You did frighten h-- you know " ^ He came forward, his limbs moving, it se «' »'• -« Arii^- That is a sound I shall often want to greet my ears. There, peace is signed, is it not?" . f««;c Cluny had recovered his self-control. He now advanced a step, and addressed Joy with formal •l^' "«"«"reyou most solemnly. Mademoiselle." «id he. "that while I have the privilege of receil- ing you in my house, I. as your host, have no desire but for your welfare. " The girl seemed to revolve these words in her mind before answering. Then she murmured, her ;?? J^'' ^ ^^"^ ~*' ^"""^ »» ^^ favourite attitude : "Thank you." half vexed. " how formal we are I " CHAPTER XVI rN bustled Dr. Lebel, with his frock^oat neatly buttoned up and a brand new tie — his notion of dinner dress never went further — rubbing his hands and diffusing a strong odour of scented soap. "Eh, eh I I thought I was the last, but our friend the Canon," cried he, "is late, as usual, I perceive. Ah, Monsieur U Due I Is that the face you bring us back from Paris? Better have stopped at home! Madame la Marquise, your servitor. " The lady made him a regal bow — a bow the gra- ciousness of which was tempered by the consideration that, though he understood her digestion to a nicety she could not blind herself to the fact that his politl ical opinions were generally reprehensible. "Ah, and do I see my young friend, the Marquis ? " Lebel went on. "Positively, my dear Madam, he has not changed since I was called in to save his life the day of his first cigar. Do you remember. Mon- sieur Totol? Eh, eh, eh!" Dr. Lebel rubbed his hands again. " Rose is doing capitally — capitally, " Mid he, in a professional undertone, to Helen. Then he wheeled his sharp eye upon Dodd. "Aha the famous cousin!" The voluble little man 144 THE SECRET ORCHARD cluped the American warmly by the hand and shook It up and down, the while, from his inferior level, he fazed at him with critical, scientific scrutiny. •• What a type of the Anglo Saxon I Ah, the fine race I Madame," said he, wheeling his tubby figure once again to the dowager, " I congratulate you." There was a tone of real respect in his voice. He had not in truth believed the lady capable of pro- ducing anything so sensible. Helen was burning to show off her new acquisition. •• But my child, Doctor, my child, " she began. •• I have to be feliciuted too." Even as she spoke, the folding doors into the hall were ceremoniously thrown open. "The Canon, Monsieur le Due," announced the majordomo, scarcely less majestic himself than the personage he was ushering in. "Monsieur le Due, dinner is served." Bland, dignified, sure of himself and of his hosts, the Canon entered. "Am I late, my dear child ? What a happy gath- ering! Madame la Marquise I'* " Monsieur le Chanoine !" George Dodd, looking on, smiled to himself as he watched the ceremony of greeting between the two dignitaries. It was as good as a play, he told him- self. And what tickled him most was the earnest- ness of both the actors. The Canon bowed. The lady, who had risen to meet him, swept him one of those curtseys that are a revelation to the younger generation. Here she could conscientiously bestow THE SECRET ORCHARD »45 unreserved approval, not only upon the churchman but upon the man of family. She next extended he^ hand As he took it with a second inclination : " I trust I see Madame la Marquise in good health " said he. ' "Alas, Monsieur le Chanoine But I do not complain." The hands parted, and upon the parting a grace- fully retiring curtsey and congee were duly enacted. Cordially then the good Canon shook hands with the master of the house. Indulgently he received the introduction of the heretic American. Patron- isingly he nodded to Totol. "Madame," said he to Nessie, "we have met before. " Then Helen was able to draw his attention to Joy. "But here is one you have not met before. Canon. This is Gioja. " Instantly the Canon dropped his man-of-the-world air, and became the priest Benevolently, yet searchingly, he examined the little figure thrust, shrinking, forward to his notice. And as he looked' approval began to beam from his eyes. ' On the other side the Doctor, both thumbs hooked into his trousers pockets (an attitude which entailed a somewhat curious arrangement of frock- coat), his scrubby, bearded chin sunk in his breast and his eyes very keen under their bushy brows, was engaged in the same scrutiny. But apparently with less satisfaction, for the lines of p. rplexity on his face grew deeper every moment. lO i^ii' ! imis 146 THE SECRET ORCHARD " So this is the child ? " said the Canon. " I have heard of you, my dear. Come, let us make acquaint- ance. '• He took her by both hands and drew her towards him. She hung her head, a shy maiden. After his pause of investigation the priest looked at Helen, and both these worthy, innocent-minded people ex- changed a silent smiling look. The work of charity seemed indeed to have been pleasantly rewarded. Then he laid his hand for a moment upon the girl's head. "The good God," said he, "who loves the young, has dealt very tenderly with you, my child. Have you thought of 'Uanking Him for His extraordinary protection .>" The little head, with its wealth of curls, was bowed still deeper. " That is well, " Went on the priest. " Your name, the Duchess tells me, is Gioja. Gioja — Joy, a pretty name I May it be an omen of what you will bring to this house, and what you will find here for yourself. God bless you I " The Doctor turned upon his heel with a hideous grimace, and; rubbing his chin, produced a quite audible crackle. He looked round the room, irre- sponsively passing Nessie's eager, interrogative gaze, his glance resting finally upon Favereau's tired face. Then the two elderly men, who knew the world, had a swift interchange of thought. Said the Doctor's eye: " IVAat have we got here f" Said Favereau's, in a sort of agony: "Don't ask me." THE SECRET ORCHARD ,47 Then exclaimed the eyes of both: "Ah, diablef" "Helen," inquired Madame de Lormes blandly. IS It intended that we should dine to-night ? " Helen started, blushed, and laughed. "My dear Aunt, my dear guests, indeed I must beg pardon " Cluny. with alacrity, offered his arm to his for- that hollow, she couldn't have held up another moment." fluttered to Favereau's side "Now. Canon," cried the Duchess, gafly "T claim your arm." ^ ^' ^ Then she hesitated, looking at Joy and the three remaining men. Totol glanced askance over hU tl T.I ^^^ ^"^^*^°"^«d to hide his minuteness behind the Doctor's breadth. eirr'\'r\'' '^'/ ^°"'' ^^"" "^ ''^ ^^« school- girl, he whispered. "AA, fa. Doctor, my friend how do hate a bread-and-butter miss!" ^ ' He en noted her younger cousin's retreat, and the ShTsmilT ""'""'"^ '^'P '''''''^ °^ *^« «»de' jov "Th";!' '''V^' '° '^" '""°^' "y«" '^"^ <^scort i.i K u ""'^*''" P''«'ence of settling the girl's lace she bent over and whispered in her ear: "This gentleman, dear, will give you his arm to take you onthfr"- ^^y — " Her fingers had fanen Ah little Miss Vanity, what is this ? " Her amuse- no school-girl's jewel. "Pearls, if you plUsel 148 THE SECRET ORCHARD And stick pearls ! Who could have given you such pearls, child?" Cluny at the door of the room stopped involun- tarily; Favereau, second in the procession, turned round with desperate deliberation, ready for emer- gencies. Joy looked full from one man to the other, then turned to her godmother. "One who loved me, as I was told, sent them to me, Madame," she answered, at last, slowly and distinctly. " Ah ! " cried Helen, and the tears sprang to her eyes. "I am doing nothing but stupid things this evening," she went on, in an undertone to the Canon. " The pooc mother I I might have known. Come, Canon, let us dine." "Pray," said Nessie, in a vicious undertone, to the Doctor, as she settled into her seat at the further end of the rose-decked table — "pray, what is your opinion of the Duchess's new daughter? " "Madame," said Dr. Lebel, good-humouredly, while he tucked his napkin under his chin, "the young lady would seem to me to belong to a type sufficiently rare to be interesting as a curiosity to a medical mind, but not otherwise, since vivisection is not allowed on the human subject. There is one if you like who will never be ill unless she were to take poison. Red blood she has, that one! And nerves — oh, M'ame, nerves of steel I " " Red blood ! " ejaculated Nessie, contemptuously. "With that whey face?" THE SECRET ORCHARD H9 "A thick skin, yes. Creamy white." said the Doctor with conviction. "That is of th; ty^ " ''' He sucked ,n his first spoonful of soup wiS every rilT ,*?P^^"*'^°»- Nessie pondered iTl moment, marking across the table how the sailor's sea-blue eyes kindled and how soft his voice grew a^ he turned to address his impassive partner. ^ .n ,T"*'"u^°" ."^""'^ '^'"^ »' « »"<=h a timid, fragile soul? " she said spitefully. ^^ rutfwrir.sScr''^ ^ ^^^^' -^ Po^^«^^^ ^^ with questions about souls. Inquire for this artide "Z^ T- ^^' °" ^"^"^ *'»« Canon y^^:' m^i li; CHAPTER XVII THE dinner table was a large one for the com- paratively small party. But Helen, who since she had entered this noble house had had but one thought, that of keeping up its dignity; who spent her time like some vestal virgir , continually feeding the sacred fires of her temple, —would have thought it desecraticn to replace the great carved oak by any modem», if more convenient board. On the rare occasions when she and Cluny were quite alone in the castle, they had their meals in a gay little Chinese room looking on the conservatory. There, unless detained by their spiritual or temporal duties, the Canon and the Doctor invariably found their places laid as a matter of course at a table, just large enough to hold them all four round a silver bowl of flowers. But when there were other visitors the dining-hall was roused from its slumberous antique solemnity. And though to-night the guests were rather too far from each other for the stimula- tion of convi' iality, the huge board was made as harmoniously gay as flowers and fruit and the accu- mulated silver treasure of the house could make it. This night, to any one not gifted with the powers of Asmodeus, in the rare old-world room, between THE SECRET ORCHARD 151 the dark walls hung with historic tapestry, under a ceiling where, round the central quasi-royal arms of the first Duke, were blazoned all the subsequent honours the race had gathered to itself, the company assembled would have seemed, if somewhat incon- gruously matched, in the highest possible humour. Most of the diners, after the genial French way, talked at the top of their voices, at the same time, and with much gesticulation. A flush had risen to Cluny's cheek, his eyes were bright The almost hysterical reaction after the moment of mortal peril successfully escaped was upon him, together with the recklessness, the joy of his despair, if one may use so paradoxical a phrase. The conflict with conscience was over, that was one thing. H€ was going to the devil, and the devil was mak- ing it easy for him at last; he would not fail to con- tinue to show the way. The girl liad accepted the situation, it seemed The moment when, by a word, she could have blasted him was over for ever. Who would believe her now? He had but to go on as he had begun, 'to lie like a man, ' and Helen, his HeUn, would never know. His laugh rang out. Never had his wit been more pointed, his illustration more apt. Even Madame de Lormes, who, as was said, regarded Ciuny with the peculiar favour her lofty mind could have accorded to no lesser star of the Almanach de 15a THE SECRET ORCHARD Gotha, even Madame de Lormes' spirits began to react against the depression caused by the strange action of a ruling providence in permitting the reap- pearance of her American son. As for this latter, he found, as the minutes passed by, that the per- sonality of his quiet little neighbour was affecting him in a more and more troubling manner. He had first been drawn to her out of a natural instinct of manly championship evoked by his mother's ungenerous attitude on the one side, and his brother's undisguised impertinent aversion on the other. She had seemed so small, so white, so childish a thing, that he would have liked to call her "my dear," and throw his strong arm round her in protective brotherly fashion. But now, by some magnetic influence that seemed to emanate even from her very reserve, by the curious fluttering glances she flung at him from time to time, by the dimple that a little secret smile, caused by some chance remark of his printed in the half-averted cheek, by the stirring of his own blood, he felt that this child was very woman after all. As the meal progressed, who shall say what con- flicting thoughts, what emotions were revolving in the girl's own busy mind? She would not have been, as she was, human of elemental humanity, had she not felt the intoxication of the luxury and the beauty around her; luxury such as in her most ambi- tious dreams she could not have conceived ; beauty which awoke every dormant artistic passion in an extraordinarily passionate nature. y^^ SECRET ORCHARD >53 Ht is masur here. He is a Duke. A King's '^' tio^Ihatehim! He laughs. What beautiful Uethhehas! How I love him I We shall live in the same house, and it is I who will hold him. My God how her eyes devour him ! She is beautiful ^ but she tsstupid. Helooksatme. Hedidloveme. Imade htm lave me once. And this great American, he loves me too, and I never thought of it, or of him. How good tfiese flowers, this champagne. He gave me champagne that day— ah, that day/ If I think of it ptrhaps I can make him think of it too. ^ "' ' "Look at the dear little one," said Helen, whis- pering to the Canon; "it is like a blossom opening out to the warmth and the light. " But here the Doctor's voice rose with sudden rasping insistence. He had heard the Marquis drop the fatal word "Dreyfus." He thumped the table with the handle of bis knife. "But you can't condemn a man if you can't prove ftim guilty: no honest man can get out of that" "For me," Madame de Lormes was saying, as she spread out her white hands, "the man is a criminal. I bow to the decision of the tribunals of my country." ' "What. Aunt," cried Cluny, mockingly, "bow to Republican Tribunals ? " "My dear Charles-Edward," said the lady, "why. the man is a Jew!" ' "Ate, aie, ate!" interrupted Totol, in an acute voice. He thrust his fingers into his ears and 154 THE SECRET ORCHARD waggled his wizened face from side to side in comic despair. " How can any one still tolk of this weary business? Who cares, who did ever care, whether the wretched creature did or didn't? I am sure if anybody in France had a penn'orth of wit and go, he would have put a ball through his head long ago— sent him to some Devil's Island from whence he could not have come back in such a hurry to bother us all to death. Lord, Lord, the beastly saw I " The Doctor, who had been craning his neck for- ward with angry intentness and rolling his ensan- gumi-J eye from one speaker to the other, here opened his mouth as if for the passage of a roar. He changed his mind, however, and closed it again with a snap. The 'American, who, although well acquainted with French, had not yet an ear attuned to the rapid apprehension of table-talk, was just a minute behind in the following of the conversation. Then, a fine flush of indignation mounting to his brow, he in his turn looked round the table to see if the Doctor was to be the only representative of common fairness of judgment Favereau was wrapt in garments of official reserve. The Duke, as he met the inquiring eye, said, over the edge of his glass : "A dirty business altogether;" but left his guest to elucidate for himself on which side cleaved the dirt. From the contemptuous indifference of his manner it was probable he referred impartially to both. ' " Poor France ! " cried the Doctor at last, his pent- THE SECRET ORCHARD 155 up feelings bunting out irrepressibly. " If she were a person, one would have to say that she was very ill— very ill." As the Doctor spoke. Dcdd saw that he instinc- tively addressed himself to the Minister. The latter jerked his head with an affirmative melancholy that seemed beyond words. "Ah, ttnez" said Dr. Lebel, gesticulating with a silver fork on which was stuck a large piece of pine- apple, " I am a doctor, I, and I ought to know some- thing of diagnosis. France has had some^ery ugly symptoms — enough to warn those who love her. Oh, I '11 pass over the surrenders of Sedan and Metz and the horrors of the Commune, over the decoration business, over the Panama business, all that belongs to the now mature generations. Take the last couple of 2'ears only. You want to know what 's the condi- tion of the youth of France — the gilded youth — the educated, the wealthy youth, that ought to be re- garded as the hope of the nation, the class that ought to lead the others? Well, then, see it put to the test; take the Bazar de la Ckarit/." A low murmur of horror ran round the table. Cluny drew his brows together sensitively. " But I think," said Madame de Lormes, addressing space with an air of grandiose rebuke, "that we great ladies of France were not behindhand in giving an example of heroism to the populace." " Because, Madame," said the Canon, "you had the courage of religion which, alas " "Wait, wait, my friend," interrupted the Doctor, 156 THE SECRET ORCHARD who, having triumphantly masticated his piece of pine-apple, was ready to speak again; "I am coming to you and to the priesthood in France presently. The women stuck to their post upon that day of shame, for the simple reason that the one section not totally corrupt in our country to-day is woman. Woman — God bless her! -as we doctors know, is ever the last to fail in great emergencies. Self- sacrifice is ingrained in her very nature. It will be a bad day for France when that last rope of salvation breaks. Yet even that " He made an expres- sive grimace. "There was a day, when I was young, when Madame George Sand was supposed (by well-thinking people) to be a baneful writer." He laughed angrily. ."Now, your favourite woman writer, Mesdames of the Faubourg St. Germain is — Gypl" ' He thrust out his underlip with huge contempt. Totol burst into a delighted cackle. "Famously droll, all the same, Ma'ame ' Gyp,' " he cried. Nessie gave a guilty little giggle, conscious of having found some amusement in such books. Madame de Lormes rinsed her fat taper finger in the Venetian bowl with a detached air. "But, Doctor," said Helen, trying to follow the arguments with her earnest, sweet, but somehow slow mind — "but. Doctor, you are diverging from the question. I do not know Gyp's books, but I know how good, how charitable, my French friends are, and surely, surely it is not fair to blast all our aris- tocracy because of the cowardice of a few worthless THE SECRET ORCHARD 157 young men" — here, all unconsciously, her tender lip curved into scorn. "If Cluny had been there on that horrible day " — her eye seemed to say proudly, "my C7««y"— "(and it is but a chanc- we were not, I had actually promised the poor Duchesse d'Alen^on) you would have had another story to tell." "Ah, if Cluny had been there," interrupted Favereau, with the first warm look he had given his host that night, " if he had been there, with you, he would have done the impossible to save you. But as you would not have been saved alone — I know you — you would both have remained to perish." "Well, as for me," yelped Totol, his face crink- ling, with the most good-natured, cynical frankness, " I don't go in for pose, not I. I go in for raw truth. If people don't like it, so much the worse. I was not at the bazaar. They bore me, bazaars do. Wasn't it lucky now?" He looked round amiably for congratulation. " But, faith, if I 'd been there, I 'd have looked after number one, you know. Come, come," he went on, shrilly crying down the chorus ""•• «"»«■ wnat acidly, haa been grossly ejaggerated. " THE SECRET ORCHARD 159 •Well, now," Mid the undaunted Doctor, remov- ing his napkin from under hi* chin and holding it stretched out in both hands, preliminary to a final •crub of beard and moustache, "so much for the upper class at the hour of test. What about the lower? If the aristocracy is, or ought to be, the head, the people are, or ought to be, the heart. That 's what we are told. What about the people — again at the hour of test ? Take the foundering of the Boup^fo^tf" Having thrown his second bomb he paused, and proceeded vigorously with the napkin operation. "That was another bad business," said the sailor, gravely. "The Doctor is determined not to spare us his diagnosis," said Favereau, with a rather weary smile. How this man's heart had bled for his France; how ceaselessly had he striven to work at the task of reparation, of uplifting. How hopelessly, none would ever know but himself. The Doctor was a sanguine man. That he could still see a use in such indictments was because he yet could still hope. Deep in a sacred silence, Favereau, the de- voted servant of his country, had hidden the fact that he had no illusions left. "A bad business ! " cried Lebel, jovial even in his indignation. "Les dtux font la paire! The two match each other." He balanced his hands expres- sively. "The little aristocrat stamps the delicate line ladies of his acquaintance back into the flames with heel and cane; and your rough, honest mateiot iCo THE SECRET OR CHARD hits the drowning women and children on the head with oars as they would cling to his boat. Yes they match quite nicely. It is on record." he added dropping his satiric emphasis for a perfectly even voice, that neither a single young swell was shriv- elled in the flames, nor a single homy-handed son- of-toil perished in the ocean wave, whatever may nave happened to the rest. " p 'lu\y.'^'f ^°'^^''" ^^'^ "^^^"' eaniestly. "M. de Kothschild s groom " "English, Madame — Anglo-Saxon!" said the Doctor, laconically. The Canon folded his beautiful hands over his finger-bowl. He had bided his time, but now he was going to speak "I would point out to my friend the Doctor," he bigan, in his gentle deliberate voice, "that the Mar- quis made just now a remark pregnant with truth. In a word, he gave the reason for the whole deplor- able state of affairs. Why. said he, should the mate- rialist think of others .> Why, indeed.? If a man does not believe that ' he who loses his life shall gain it,' why should he depart from the common animal instinct of self-preservation, no matter at what cost to others? Alas, if our France is ill, is it not because she has thrust health from her, the health of the soul— religion? Religion, which made the heroines and martyrs in that catastrophe we have just spoken of. *' There was a moment of impressive silence. Every eye was turned upon the Doctor. Even the most THE SECRET ORCHARD i6i sceptical felt that the Canon's arguments seemed at least supported by facts. The Doctor, however, was too true a fighter to be otherwise than stimulated by a direct attack. ^^ "Aha, I expected you there, my friend," he cried; "but I 'm ready for you. I 'm not denying that reli- gion, as a human institution, is a remarkably useful thing for the morals of the people. But, like all other human institutions. Canon, I'll make you observe that it is as much subject to the nation's corruption as any other. Let us look at your reli- gion in France. What has it done for you ? Has it upheld justice? How have you good priests come out of the Dreyfus case?" Totol again gave his dismal howl, and again put his fingers in his ears. Nessie supported him with a series of little shrieks. Even the Duke and Favereau raised their voices. But the Doctor had a powerful organ, and he outbellowed them all. "What about your holy brothers of La Croix f What about your Christian attitude towards the Jew? What doctrines of peace, of justice, of the charity that thinketh no evil, have been preached to the most ignorant hamlets in the country? Where would the priest have led France to-day? " Every question was emphasised by the darting of a stubby forefinger, as if the speaker were thrusting a rapier under the well-covered ribs of his friend. Helen threw towards Cluny a look of comical despair. The inevitable battle began in earnest. II i62 THE SECRET ORCHARD Without any further loss of placidity, without heeding her aunt's shocked gestures of utter repro- bation, she awaited the Canon's defence to this vio- lent counter attack. " My good Doctor," he began, as soon as he could make himself heard, and his placid, well-bred ac- cents were in marked contrast to the other's broad vehemence, "far be it from me to deny that injudi- cious things have been said and pernicious advice given from quarters from which no teaching but that of the Gospel should have been heard. But that, my friend, is because, if the teaching is Divine, the ministry of the church is yet human, and errare kumanum est. The errors of humanity, of the be- liever, of the priest, do not aflfect the divinity of the principle, any more than the corruptness of the judge can alter the inherent quality of justice. It is not for me to pronounce upon my colleagues — thank God ! I do not either impugn or defend them. All I maintain is that if you take away from man the belief in his soul, that is, in his ideal, that is, in his God, you take away from him all motives for righteousness. Nay, the only logical conclusion, then, is that of Monsieur le Marquis — every man for himself." "There you are," cried the Doctor, who, finding himself beaten upon the frontal attack, with the fighter's instinct nimbly leaped upon another breach. " Listen to him : * it is not for me to pronounce — thank God ! ' Even you — even he " — appealing to the table — "is suffering from the universal disease. THE SECRET ORCHARD 163 There is not one of you who can face the truth. The Duke has already shown that he cannot." Cluny started. The Doctor proceeded inexorably. "Yes, even you, Duke, from the height of your chivalrous honour, all you can find for your unhappy country is contempt : ' I wash my hands of it. These things are too dirty for me to touch. ' " Cluny smiled, smiled to hide a horrible return of invading misery : Aias, his ckivalrotts honour / And that girl's eyes upon him, and Helen's worshipping glance ever seeking him across the table. " So much for you, " pursued the Doctor. " You 're one type. There 's Monsieur Favereau, that 's an- other. He folds himself up in his leaves; you '11 never get at the thought of him. ' Respect my silence, respect my sorrow. * Useful, is it not? " Favereau laughed with some bitterness. " Wrong in your diagnosis for once," said he, drily. " I take things philosophically, my good Esculapius." "But surely. Doctor," said Dodd, in his sound, if rather laboured French, "if a man cannot help his country by speaking, the best he can do is to keep silence. " "But cannot every man help his country by speak- ing.'" inquired the Doctor, explosively. "What help is there for a nation if all its honest men pre- serve the policy of dignified silence, and so leave the rogues, the cranks, and the decadents to speak for her, to rule her.> What is to become of a country that has no moral courage ? " "Frr me," declared Madame de Lormes, in the i64 THE SECRET ORCHARD tone of one putting an end to a discussion, " I am amazed at the patience with which you all listen to Monsieur le Docteur. I should call that man a bad patriot who takes part with the enemies of his fatherland." Dr. Lebel looked at her with his jaw on one side and much humour in his eye. "Third type," said he, quietly; "Madame la Marquise represents the class of the wilfully blind. 'It is impossible that our army should go wrong; it is impossible that so holy a paper as La Croix should mislead us.' But your generals have ad- mitted forgery, fear of the enemy, false witness." Then, drawing . himself together and answering himself with an air of great dignity, unconsciously mimicking the Marquise's manner: "'Monsieur, if our generals committed forgery, it was from the noblest of motives.' — 'And La Croix, Madame? That rag that you, an intelligent woman, know to be propagating lies under the cloak of the monk, lies that would plunge this country into a war for which we were never worse prepared, pro- vided that such a war secured the overthrow of the government. ' " "Sir," interrupted the Marquise, tartly, opening her eyes to throw a severe glance at the speaker, " it is not from you, free-thinker, that I should expect justice towards ministers of my holy religion." "I am answered," said the Doctor, irrepressibly. "It is strange to me," said the sailor, who had been following this unexpected indictment of his ."*-T«taiswt THE SECRET ORCHARD 165 host's own country with great interest, "that such a state of things as you describe cin co-exist with such marvellous prosperity, such scientific advance, as I have seen manifested since my return to Paris, which struck even me, a member of the richest, of the most scientific country in the world. " "My young friend," said the Doctor, and planted his forefinger on the table, " you have hit it. France is prosperous, extraordinarily prosperous, but it is only material prosperity, and every Spartan virtue is dying out. Is it because of her very riches? I know not. Will our wealth yet help us out of our ditch? I know not. Riches, when used for patriot- ism, as, by the way, England is using hers just now " " I felt," said Madame de Lormcs, audibly enough to the Duke, " that Monsieur Lebel would come to taking the part of our enemies." But the Doctor proceeded without heeding. " But our science. Ah, young man, there is the salvation of our country, there alone do I see hope ahead! Science is great in France. Literature is debased, art is debased, the army is corrupt, politics are a sink, religion is not a guide but a tool. Science we have yet." "What," said the Canon, in a loud voice, "is that all we have to hope in? Then it is indeed unhappy France J " "Oh, Doctor," exclaimed Helen, "you know as well as I do how much good there is about us, even in this little corner of the world. How simple and W^^^.. i66 THE SECRET ORCHARD brave and pious and chariUble is our poor peasantry how devoted their doctor, what an apostle their priest I " The Doctor turned his eyes upon her and the light of battle went out of them, to be replaced by an extraordinary tenderness. "Ah, Madame," he cried, "have I not already said that there are still good women ? " ^ "And good men!" criec the Duchess, gaily. '' Cluny, we have heard enoiv^h pessimism this even- ing : speak for your beautif France. Speak I " The Duke's blood rose France! Who could do it codtd love his France be tcr the France of a corrupt self yet the France of advanced science, but the Fran-e of th old raditions, the nation of all wit, of all elegance, of chivalry, of refinement ! France of the gtntilkomme, who 'did brave deeds with a jest; who bragged not, but did In the return of this royal France it was part of his creed to believe, to believe that when her hour struck from all over the imr country, his compeen would arise to uiAold her and take their rightful place again by throne and fleur-de-lys. Word* crowded to his tongue, fire sprang into his eyes. . . . Then, even as he opened his mouth, he felt upon him tibe gaze of Joy. A coW sweat brake upon him; he paused M if paralysed. After a moment's painful silence, with a second rerulsioB the blood rushed to his face again. the call. Speak for etter than he? Who than he? Not indeed eking oligarchy, nor >ught and far-teeiag THE SECRET ORCHARD 167 " Speak for France I " he cried, with sudden anger, flinging his napkin on the floor; "I, speak for France I" The bitterest laughter rose to his lips from the bottom of his sore heart. "What have I to say? Lcbel is right. We are a worthless race." CHAPTER XVIII "QAPERIJPOPETTEI" said the Doctor, genu- O inely disconcerted by this unexpected con- version to his views. The colour had faded from Helen's face as she rose and broke up the circle. Anxiously her eyes sought to meet her husband's, but in vain. Many times had Cluny listened to the diatribes of the country doctor, without manifesting any other emoUon than gentie laughter. Many times indeed had he, boyishly mischievous, deliberately started the friendly antago- nists upon one of their heated discussions. But the Doctor had been unpardonable to-night. Evidently Cluny's endurance had its limits; even she, she told herself rebukingly, had not sounded all the depth, all the refinement of that rare nature. " Lebel was really beyond everything just now," said she to the Canon, as they ceremoniously returned to the drawing-room. "Alas, Madame," said the Canon, wistfully, "one must pardon all the same. Poor fellow, he knows not what he says." A chill had fallen over them all — a chill which became accentuated on their return to the library. Helen, yearning to have her arm round her husband THE SECRET ORCHARD ,6 q and lay tender fingers upon that hidden sore place she felt within him. had lost for the moment her usual ^wer of drawing her guests into comfort and sympathy. Thus, after half an hour's ungenial, disjomted conversation, every one was glad to hear Madame de Lormes announce her intention of con- veymg her exhausted body and her sorely tried soul to retirement for the night. ♦i,"?;r. ^" '*"*^ "^"^^^ "•'•PP'^ °ff ^ith Ncssie to the biUiard-room. Then the Canon faded out of the company: it was his hour for the night visit to the chapel. And the Doctor, after several noisy yawns, declared his intention of trotting home as soon as he had had a last glance at his patient, Rose. Helen was suddenly struck by the wanness of Joys face. "Say good-night. my dear," said she, after kissing her on the forehead. " I shall take a peep in at you by-and-bye." ' "Good-night," said the girl, passively. Then she paused a second; the sailor was next to her. "Good-night, Miss Joy," said he heartily, and extended his hand. After a second's pause she slid her fingers into it, and felt them engulfed in a warm, close, protecting Clasp. His eyes were vainly seeking hers. "What an ugly great hand," she thought "Good-night, Sir," said she to the Duke. And within herself: "Andyou, I love you, andnaw I shall agatn touch your hand." I70 THE SECRET ORCHA RD In this moment of hardly perceptible hesitation, Favereau the ever-watchful, stepped quite naturX between him and the girl. -luraiiy he'ia^H ^""?'''"*: ^ ^"** ^'^^ * ^^'y good nighC he «ud ,n a tone that was admirably balanced between the paternal and the ceremonious. She shrank in her turn, but could not avoid sub- in.ttmg to h,s handshake, which was at the same time so manoeuvred as to dismiss her from the room. stalr^ she .aid to herself all the way up the ■ his^Sl^ K v!iT'''"^'~°™ *^ ^"''^ ^^^ into comnS? «l««d. and-for life is full of these ironical compensations -he welcomed the moment when he coiUd give way and listen to his own pain. th.;r^ ^''''*'"" "^^ ^°^^' ""^^^e "tended on their lounges, seemed disposed to make any tax on h.s powers of entertainment. Silence therefore reigneS m the room, a sUence grateful to each in his own mood. ,n tht W^ ? "''^T' ^y *^" ^«^"' <=«<=k of ball in the bilhard-room beyond or a faint squeal from ether or both of the light-hearted playera. At first Cluny smoked mechanically. Fragments of the evemng conversation, echoes of the Doctor's rough voice mingled with the turmoil of his thoughts - thoughts by turns self-accusing and selfnjxculpating THE SECRET ORCHARD 171 By^d-byc the red glow died away on the brown leaf, his hands dropped inertly on the long cushioned arms. A worthless race I * Even you, even you, Duke, from the height of your delicate honour— unhappy France I' Unhappy France, indeed! Was Ubel right? Was decay in their very blood I Hts delicate honour t ' Oh, these things are too dirty for me to touch!' God help us! What! This affair where men, his countrymen, had lied for a good end— for a good end no doubt, as they thought — his ' honour ' had been too delicaU even to speak of it. And yet how was he better to-day than the false witness, than the men who forged 'for a good purpose; as they saidt AndFavereau, the upright, the benevolent, he had lied too — nay, had suggested the lie, for a good purpose — oh, for a good purpose ! ' The aristocrat thrusts the deluate fine lady with heel and cane back into the flames. The honest sailor clubs the drowning woman, the child, back into the water with his oar.' Whyf Totolgavethe reason. ' To save themselves, pardieu ! ' ^'l^ had cried, 'If my Cluny had been there!' Oh God! oh, God! oh, God! -oh, devil! Her Cluny! You are brave gentlemen! Two men against a girl' Brave? Aye, ' take them at the test, neither moral nor physical courage.' What had he, the man of delicate Mnour.done with the woman — the child? Into what flames had he not thrust her, back into what waters of perdition and of de^r? And why, why, why? Total IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) '^ 4^ 1.0 |L25 U|2J IK u lit IM 12.2 L8 ^"V> ^^^ 150mm 6" LIED^ /APPLIED J IIVHGE . Ine laSSEMIMnSliMl n oe h wUf. NY 14600 USA Ptwna: riSMtt-OSOO Fax: riMMMMB ^ . "^ ^\^ "* ■^v^, ^^^ ^ 6^ > ► s^ ■7» THE SECRET ORCHyIR D The man's whole soul surged on rt.^ f.M t pa-ionate tenderness towards h^wTe Ae ?• For a moment he u» himwlf on hi. !„,-. u,.. fce«l opon her Up. ,„d he pictured to hS W. own «pt.re of „H.f in coniiding hi, t™„h^' fc^' H^ .he not .l«j, u^^ ^., jifli^^ »7; unacrstand. Oh, less than ever now I If Luxuriously outstretched in his great leather arm ^d ;S:"'n ''^'' ''"^^*^""^ «'^« both rjy and physically, his square head thrown baTHb THE SECRET ORCHARD ,73 •ea-blue eyes watching vaguely the opalescent spirah of a cho.ce Havana's vanishing life, George Dodd J^""^ **""«* ^»'°~ « the smoke. would havt thought itt "^^^f**" mt/ Who It was a revelation. There was humour also in the situation. He felt a vast astonfahment at hi,JLl? but withal an extraordinary warm expansion. ' thtng— ont of thoso glances of hits, when the shw me feel downright silfy. George P. Dodd, ^s co,netoyouf YoH always saidlhe sea wouldl^r only mistress, your only Mde. What, anyhow k^ a satiortodomthawifef... Unless shTi^Js ttke that, and iafy-hair ^ At this poin' there suddenly rose before his eyes «nde?a"b ; ^^ '*"' "^'^ ^^"^•»' "^^^ -omS^ thump. '""'^ "'• *"' '« »^«"« ^^^ «-«" to rmbemtched, and- well, what m the wide world the hps than stnh the 'Aferrimac' In a bad ^ George, my boy/ "^' As Favereau mechanicaUy smoked one cigarette 174 THE SECRET ORCHARD after another and reviewed the events of the night in his dean orderly mind, he was conscious, with that precision which accompanied all its operations, that this evening's work had brought him to a critical epoch in his life. For years he had thought himself finally shorn of all illusions, for years he had looked upon life as an observer: emotions, whether pleasurable or the reverse, being to him merely objective. Life, he had believed, had ceased to have a personal meaning to him from the day when he had definitely given up all hope of those things that go to make a man's life — love, marriage, paternity. His work he gave to his country, not with any personal ambition, not even with any hope of lasting influence, but from the same sense of duty which ruled the rest of his actions— the duty of acting the part of an honest man while he still cumbered the earth. Yet to-night he found himself separated by a gulf from the moral standpoint of this morning. And, by the pam he felt in the sense of loss, he realised now many illusions he had still unconsciously held, recognised how impossible it Is for man to avoid his personal share in others' existence, in others' respon- sibilities. A profound conviction of the sorrow of the world had ever been with him, yet he had flattered himself to be able to pass through this wretched masquerade they call life, not " gravely," as a certain thinker advises us, but as that highest type of philoso- pher, the true humourist. To-night, however, his whole system was crumbling around him. He had THE SECRET ORCHARD m laid his foundations upon the certitude of his own moral strength, of his own personal worth. To him also the Doctor's words recurred as an echo : " Take tkem at the test, they fail r In a larger spirit than that of his unhappy accomplice, and from a different standpomt, he viewed his own fall as part of the miserable inheritance of humanity, accepted it with- out a moment's weakening, even without remorse. But he was sad, sad to the soul. Tk« chance of keeping that horror of disillusion from Helen t It was worth U. I would do it again for that. PoorHelen-mybeauHfulHelenl And I, who thought that I could direct her faU, thought that the r'eatness of my sacrifUi must secure her happiness I What man could keep himself year in year out, on Helen s level t ' Thus her husband - the husband I gave her I Whatman? I could have done it^ I / and he could not. I knew how to Iwe her. She hved me always as a child does. I could have taught her to love me as a woman. What devil inspired met I thought it was the voice of God, the voice of right, fust because it was so hard Monstrous selfishness, a crime, to untu my staid manhood to her bright youth I Oh miserable world; oh, unhappy, groping humanity} Uur greatest sacrifices are almost ever our greatest mistakes. Where is God in all this f Where is right t And yet— and yet! What was it Cluny said t Could I, could any other man but this Cluny himself have gtven to that unman' s face her aureole of joy f Youth 176 THE SECRET ORCHARD cmils ifjMUk, Ummty to btauty, hriUuuuy to MtUatuy. HMdtht boon m$Mo tkopoignamy o/mmguisk wkicA now tknuUtMS htr soul could ntvor kavo rttuhed ktr — it mover woM: hut noitkor could have rtached her that poignancy of bliss* He stroked his grey beard with a steady hand. To-night how beautiful she loohedt Oh, it shall not all be lost I Helen, if there be a ministering God, and I must lose my soul for it, you at least shall hnp your earthly paradise / He flung his final cigarette into the dish, and looked at Cluny, whose face was now compressed into lines of pain, whose eyes were closed. He rose from his chair, went over to his friend, laid a kind hand upon his shoulder, and said in his ear: " Cluny, it is getting late. Helen will be waiting for you." Cluny looked up. And astonishment first, then a wistful incredulous questioning, came hungrily into his eyes. "Go to her," repeated Favereau, and paused. " My God, man," he went on in a passionate whis- per, "have you not got the present still? He who knows hc^ to hold the present must not fear the future. Go I " Cluny sprang to his feet like one recalled to life. His was a nature that must utterly despond or buoyantly hope; but too eagerly will such natures seize upon hope again. He wrung Favereau's hands. "God bless you," said he. "What should I have THE SECRET ORCHARD 177 dcme without you} Ah, Favereau, If we get out of this, I shall be a veiy diflerent man." Favereau looked after him as he hurried from the room, forgetting even to bestow a good-night word upon the dreaming Dodd still sunk in his armchair; there was no Ughtening of the melancholy eyes M CHAPTER XIX l!> h HELEN gently turned the handle of the door and peeped in. The small lamp was still glowing under its pink shade over the girl's bed, but Joy was asleep. The Duchess crept softly to her side and looked down. So strong was the mother instinct in this childless woman's heart that she, who had never tasted the delight of the " good-night " nursery visit, who had never known the stealthy gloating over one's treasure — one's very own! — who had never known the rush of protecting tenderness over the helpless being that owes one the very breath of life, felt something of the sweet pain of all these emotions stir her heart over the child of her adoption. Here at last was a child : and she, who had been cheated of motherhood's first joys, was now pleased to cheat herself with the fancy that she could still trace some baby graces in her foundling. Childish enough looked the sleeping face in its soft relaxation ; childish the aureole of curling hair, as pale as morning sunshine and as fine as gossamer threads; childishly pouted the lips and childishly lay the small, curved hands, one flung outside the pink coverlet, the other curling up to the mouth. Just so Helen had seen many a peasant child lie in its wooden cot THE SECRET ORCHARD «79 i44/—ihe bent closer— fwU/ a mMmv'^/A/ Tkt iiitlt on* had b*«n mm^g: th* hug laskts wen $HU mamd and wet with imrsf Vet it was onl^ as a child mayay,/0rmwin her sleep she smiled and -what was this r Shining between her fingers was the string of pearls: Joy had fallen asleep holding them to her lips. Helen's heart melted altogether within her. In her loneliness, her strangeness, her fatigue and excite- ment this poor child had turned for consolation to the only thing that had come to her from her mother — " from one who loved her I " "What do you know of my mother, Madame?" That had been that first question she had asked when they had found themselves alone together. Alas! what could Helen tell that innocence about her mother? " She is dead. She loved you. She wished me to have you," had been the hesitating answer. The girl had given her a quick, strange look, and had fallen back mto her shy silence. The thought of the poor mother and of her sacri- fice, the pity of it, brought the tears to Helen's eyes. Then, after her fashion of carrying everything beyond the world, she prayed God to help her to be a faith- ful mother to His forlorn creature; she prayed for a blessing upon her new duties, and most earnestly for one upon the young creature. " Oh, my God," she said, " let these be the last tears of sorrow that she may shed in this house I " i8o THE SECRET ORCHARD i; |i; i I ! I 1 I! i I ! As Helen re-entered her own sitting'room, she found her husband seated by the wood fire. He looked up and his face became softened with that look of love and admiration so long known, yet as ever dearly prized by her— that look which, after fourteen years, had still the power of making her heart flutter like that of a happy girl. "I have just been looking at the child; she is asleep." And, a she spoke the words, the thought of the ineffable joy it would have been to look at a child of his and hers struck her to the heart like a dafrger stab. But in the very grip of her own pain she noticed how his face changed. In an instant she wa« on her knees beside him, her arms round his neck. "But we are very happy, Cluny, are we not?" He caught her to him with the same extraordinary passion he had already shown that evening. She disengaged herself to look into his face, her hands pressed against his shoulders. The loose sleeves of her dressing-gown fell back from her white arms. Beautiful I Oh, she was that indeed I thought the man, as he contemplated her. But it was not for her beau^ alone he now loved her as he did — his Helen I He clasped his feverish hands round her wrists, and madly kissed the lovely arm up to the soft curve of the elbow. " My saint, my love, my wife ! " cried he, almost beside himself. Through his ardour, the sense of the trouble THE SECRET ORCHARD i8i •eething within him betrayed itself to her quick feminine perception. She began to tremble. " Cluny. what is it? Tell me. You are not your- self, you have not been yourself this evening " "Have I not?" said he, and devoured her lovely face with his piteous eyes. "Forgive me, my beloved." ' Again she put her arms about him, and drew his head with her maternal gesture to beautiful rest on her bosom. "Do not speak," said she, "I think I know." The echo of many tears had come into her voice. She paused for a moment. " Vou have never let me guess it," she said at last, "till to-night But you too, have mourned for our silent house, for our love that has been so perfect, so great, yet has had to remain so sterile." He interrupted her with broken words, not daring to lift his head from her confiding breast "His hap^ness," he murmured, "required nothing more. He had never felt the want of children, so long as he had her. She was his all so long as he kept UCi* • t • She smiled as she answered, but he felt only how ner bosom heaved. "You are too good to me, love. Indeed, I have been too happy. No, no, do not call me a saint! Tis so easy to help others a little. And you know, Cluny. you know, I try to be good; I am afraid of the judgments of God. You all ulk of my charity. my piety. It's not true, it's all cowardice. I want; i8i THE SECRET ORCHARD •o to .peak, to bribe the Almighty into leavinf me my happineM. Oh, I feel luch terror sometimes I - Her voice came more faintly. The man tight- ened his grasp of her and lifted hU head. Their eyes sought each other's almost like two frightened ychildrens. • ^' Oh, Cluny," she cried, " do >«i ever feel afraid. "My God. yes I" " Ah, darling 1 " It was a great ciy : aU the joy the pride of the woman loved, rang in It After a pause, during which the warm comfort of her presence, the magic of her beauty, the intoxica- tlon of his love, began to invade the man's whole bemg. she suddenly rose to her feet Unconsciously triumphant in her loveliness she stood, looking down at him. half shyly, half victoriously. The long ropes of her hair, unpinned but not yet untwisted, fell on either side of her shoulders to her knees. The plUar of her throat rose proudly. The firm sweep of her bosom showed superb under the folds of lace. Through drooping lids her sweet eyes caressed him, her teeth gleamed between lips parted for a little happy laugh. " Since moH seigneuri' she said. "sHU loves his old wife, after all, why should either he or I fear? " And Favereau's words once more echoed in Cluny's ear: ' " YoH have th* prtsent stiU, man, H* who knows how to hold thepratnt must not /tor thofutnn:* BOOK IIL^A WEEK LATER ** And thy lift sktM Umg in d»ntt hrftr* tkte, and thtu lUtt ftnr day nnd nigki. . . . In tkt mpming A»u tkalt smy, wmU G^d it wtrt even/ And at even ikau tkait say, W0mU Gpd it were miming / ••_ DnrmtoNoiiY. i ! ll ! flJi CHAPTER XX THE lower terrace walk beneath the sun- warmed crumbling wall, against which the apricots merged from green immatur- ity to red and yellow pulpiness; where hum«,.^ well-nigh all the year round the bees hummed over the old-fashioned thyme and balm- was not at least a few rays of sunshine to be trapped -this was the Canon's favourite walk. And here at certain hours, changing according to the seasons, he was wont to read his breviary; wont fZ'eT "?.**^*=«*»°«*' to g«nt himself a delightful snatch of leisure over some well-worn little ivoiy- yellowvolume--;. VirgirsGeorgics."from the founL sun-kissed were these moments of self-indulgence sung to by the humming of those bees that A^Tr^ loved, shot through with a pipe of birds. wov« Tn with colour and shadow. These sheltered twenty yards of homely garden beauty (so different from the almost royal pW<^ grounds originaUy hud out by the pompour^ ! ! i86 THE SECRET ORCHARD Ndtre) were therefore known as " the Canon's walk." And " the Canon's hour," understood to be piously devoted to the breviary, was respected by all the inhabitants of Luciennes down to the smallest House in the garden. So much so, indeed, that the good priest was not without some twinges of conscience on the occasions above mentioned, when (the spirit of Maro irresistibly alluring him to commune through flower and sunshine and wing-murmurs) he had yielded, and lingered in his retreat beyond the appointed limit. Nay, there had been days when the crime of having hurried ever so little over the breviary in order to dally with the fascinating pagan had actually Iain heavy on his soul! On this morning, though the autumn had advanced by yet another week since the radiant afternoon when the guests had arrived at Luciennes; though red and yellow leaves played the part of ruddy ghosts of long-eaten apricots against the wall ; though in the wild balsam beds, under the shelter of the wall's shadow, heavy beads of dew still marked the passage of last night's frost, so much summer lingered in this happy spot that the Canon, with half his prayers still unread, had lapsed by almost imperceptible degrees into his favourit? corner on the ancient stone bench. It was quite warm in the sun ; the bees were very melodious, the smell of the herbs heavy sweet. The very amiable little devil that had charge of the Canon's weaknesses found his task unwontedly easy. Somehow the breviary slipped from the Canon's knees. THE SECRET ORCHARD 187 TTie Canon knew the words by heart; he went on murmuring, in tune with the rustling leaves — " Spiritus enim meus super mel dulcis; et heredltas mea super mel et favum. Alleluia, alleluia." And away floated the soul of the Canon on the wings of bees and breeze. K^"lTfMf ?^ ^««eyand the honeycomb. How scholarly mmd moved in harmony with his thankful heart. iMs eyes were lost in the blue of a happy sky. "Hinc ubi jam emissum caveis ad sidera coeli Nare per sestatem liquidam suspexeris agmen . . . Contemplator," ^ whispered the imp in his ear. Back came the Canon's soul from the realms of spiritual sweetness to a charmmg pagan earth, astir with the humming of Virgil's honey seekers. ^ In some most extraordinary manner the little vel- lum Aldme (heathen from titlepage to colophon) now lay upon his knee I It opened slowly, quite of Its own accord, like a flower unfolded to the sun, at the very passage - that favourite page of the Canon's, upon which the set of the print on the yellowing paper, the harmonious proportions of word and line the shapely Petrarcan lettering, were dear to him a^ the sight of a well-known and well-loved face. , "Aha, my friend, I catch you at it! " said a loud jeenng voice. i88 THE SECRET ORCHARD Thus rudely recalled from floating circles of Ely- sian peace, the Canon opened his eyes with a start. "I was meditating," he began, with great dignity. " It is a frequent habit of mine to take a text of my breviary for morning contemplation." He spoke, serenely persuaded of his own blame- less innocence, whe-. >/« glance fell upon the volume open on his knee. I?' jaw dropped. " So I see," cried the Doctor, with his great laugh. " Aha ! " and nipped the book from his friend's lap. The Canon blushed, then winced to see his delicate treasure caught by two leaves like a butterfly by its wings. He stretched out a protecting hand, which the Doctor, glorying in his advant^e, met with an elbow. " ' Surely,' says the Duchess, 'you would not think of disturbing the Canon at his meditations I ' • Oh, yes,' says the gardener, 'Mr. the Canon ; down there, but Mr. the Doctor is not dreaming . jturb- ing him at this hour?' And Jacques, sweeping the valley over there, with his yelp: 'Not that way, m'sieuf Not that way! M'situ le Chanoine is praying.' Aha ! I could get myself a reputation for sanctity too on those terms. Eh, the fine mediU- tion!" And the Doctor read out — " ' Ilium adeo placuiaw apibus mirabere morem Quod nee cMcubitu Indulgent, nee corpora tegnes In Venerem solvunt, aut fetua nizibus edunt.' Tiens, tiens, I could meditate on that myself, mere curer tA bodies as I am." The poor Canon writhed, as much perhaps on THE SECRET ORCHARD 189 account of the Doctor's butchery of lilt and quantity as from the human irritation of one caught napping, in every sense of the word. The colour deepened on his cheek. The hand which conveyed the comfort- ing pinch of snuff to his nostrils shook percepUbly. But the few seconds of time necessiuted for the absorption of the Spanish mixture was sufficient for the spiritual to reconquer his ordinary dominion over the human Canon. Those whose rule of perfection it is to engage in set consultation with conscience at least three times a day are apt to find the still small voice extremely penetrating on other occasions as well. The irate gleam in the old man's eye was quenched. He flung quite a shamefaced glance at the Doctor, and, closing his snuff-box, said with humuity : " I hope I have never posed as a saint, Doctor. But if I have unwittingly led any one to think that of me, I am justly punished by being found out at the very moment when I was giving full vent to self-indulgence and sloth. Occasions of too frequent occurrence indeed ! " The Doctor looked quickly at the stately white head bent, and the expression of his good-natured mocking face changed. He cleared his throat, closed the Aldine carefully and laid it back on the other's knee. Next he stooped and picked up the breviary, dusted it and deposited it on the bench. "Oh," he said then, in a detached voice, "if there were more of them like you, I'd begin to believe in the use of saints ! A pinch from your box, Canon " I90 THE SECRET ORCHARD Their eyes met. It was with comfortable sym- pathy and understanding. "Ah, aha, hum!" said the Doctor and snuffed noisily. "Well, now, my gossip, that I have run you down, I suppose we can have a few moments- quiet talk. Not to beat about the bush: how do you think things are going on with our friends up yonder?" He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. The Canon turned towards him with some surprise and concern. " What makes you say that "» " ''Ah, moH Dieu /" — Lchcl shrugged his shoulders — "to have your opinion on the subject, I suppose. Look here, my good sir, you are the keeper of con- sciences up there, I am keeper of mere bodies, even as I said just now. But we are always ccming across each other for all that." He saw a flicker of contro- versial triumph in tHe Canon's eye, and hastily pro- ceeded with his good-..-«tured, brutal frankness: "I have not looked you up to waste my time upon argu- ments of theodicy, you may be sure : I have too much to do with this life and this life's mechanisms just now. Briefly, then, you have influence that I, rightly or wrongly, cannot pretend to. I '11 not discuss it Well, then, you had better use it." Again the stubby finger came into play. " Get the Duchess," said the Doctor, slowly, "to rid her house of that giri." The most profound astonishment, gradually merg- ing into consternation, became depicted, in waves so to speak, on the Canon's face. " The child? " he stammered. THE SECRET ORCHARD >9i " Child I " snorted the Doctor. " Now, look here, Canon, do not speak in a hurry. If you pretend to be able to guide souls, you ought to base your judg- ments upon something more than mere externals Oh, you call that littie minx a child on the strength of her baby curls and her little face? Now just give yourself the trouble to reflect for a moment upon the effect that child produces upon the men of the com- munity. There's Mr. Dodd, the fine Yankee fellow. Eh ? What does he think of the child ? " More and more disturbed became the priest's fece. "Now that you say so," he remarked hesitatingly, "of course — Mr. Dodd -indeed, I believe, at least, I have noticed, he is certainly not indifferent to Made- moiselle Joy's presence." "Indifferent!" snapped the Doctor. "The man does not know what he 's doing when she 's near him He 's mad for her — mad ! Well, now, let us take the Marquis next, Totol— little idiot I He hates and fe. rs young girls, that one. With a girl he has to mind his p's and ^s. Innocence and ignorance and timidity— all that sort of thing bore him. He 's afraid of it. He has no use for it. You know his jargon; oh, he's a pretty type I He avoided the little one like the plague that first evening. And now ! Have you seen them' together? seen the way he looks at her? Have you watched him manoeuvre to get out of range of Mamma's eyes and inveigle Mademoiselle into some deserted room or other? Come, you have seen them together! He does not seem to see a school-girl in her, now — does he? " 19* THE SECRET ORCHARD The Canon's lips moved voicelessly. The anxiety in his eye grew more intense. " Well, since you mention it," he at length mur- mured, " once or twice I have, in truth, seen the Mar- quis de Lormes with the young girl. This morning in the garden—" He pas. .J his yellow silk hand- kerchief over his brow. " But I assure you," he went on eagerly, " I assure you, she did not appear in the least inclined to encourage his attentions. It was quite the reverse." The Doctor looked at the Canon with indulgent contempt. " Quite the reverse," he repeated ironically. •• Quite so. my dear Canon. That is the type, to the life. Oh, don't I know her, that one ! Women of that type never do seem to encourage any one, and yet the mere fact of their presence in the room will set every man's blood astir. Look you, my friend, I speak from experience. I — I, old fellow that I am, I my- self can feel the little demon." He stopped to laugh out loud at the horror-struck expression of the priest. " But don't be afraid," he went on jeeringly, " it is a matter of no consequence with me. I just note the symptoms as a scientific fact, and that is alU As for you, you have worked so long at, and succeeded so well in, transforming yourself into an old woman — Oh, well, you can hardly even understand I Now let me tell you in one word what your child is: she's a dangerous woman ! Do you want to have another definition — the scientific one ? C 'est une troublante. Would you like an historical one? She is what your THE SECRET ORCHARD »93 Churchmen in the middle ages used to call a Succu- bus. And were we still in those good old days ('pon my soul I almost wish we were I), she would be put on her trial, you would sit on the bench, and she would be burned as a witch. Listen! Only a few years ago, Madame la Duchesse yonder insisted on takmg me lo a charity fancy fair at Versailles. A monster fair it was; every kind and condition of men and women. The good matrons of the Faubourg who organised it (our Marquise in the thick of it of course) had entrusted the flower stalls to the 'ladies of the profession,' because they would be the most attractive to the gentlemen. Eh, eh, charity covers a multitude of sins ! Well, there was one there of that lot, a tall one, a sort of lily to look at, still and white and slender. And all round her, I tell you. my poor friend, it was like a swarm of bees ! It hummed with men. young and old, soldiers, actors, dukes, artists, Jews and Christians, what do I know— all our golden youth, and all the silver age. Bah I I saw a minister, a surgeon, a diplomat, and the last poet. Not a flower left on her stall, nor a leaf; heap of gold pieces before her. She would not take the trouble to sweep them into her till. Once or twice she opened her mouth, showing the tip of her white teeth, only wide enough for the passage of a dis- dainful word. Occasionally she looked up, and shot a glance always in the same direction at one par- ticular man. Brooding eye of fire! By the way O^ou may not have noticed it), our Mademoiselle Joy has, on occasions, when she looks at a pai^ «3 194 THE SECRET ORC HARD ticular person, something of that sort of glance. Oh, it is the type ! That lily, Canon, was the famous Cora May." The Canon started, and then instantly endeavoured to cover his movement. The ejaculation on his lips he repressed. His face became grey white. The Doctor, engrossed in his own theme, proceeded with gusto: "And the young man she looked at was the rich Hungarian, Count Wallsee." Again the priest started; the sensational ruin of Count Wallsee and his no less sensational suicide had reached even his hermit ears. " Oh, it is the type! " M. Lebel went on. "And this precious orphan of the Duchess has got the type, my friend. She reminds me of no one so much as of la Belle Cora herself." ITie Canon's happy morning, his mood of charming, if reprehensible placidity, was rudely disturbed indeed. He knew the Doctor well; and, while lamenting his irreligious convictions, he respected him as an earnest worker and a shrewd intelligence, and he loved him for his unfailing all-human goodness. From such a man a warning was not a thing to be lightly put aside. The two again looked at each other, and it was the same apprehension that clutched at both their hearts. These were lonely men. The one from vocation and deliberate sacrifice, the other from the accident of life. Both, in their different ways, filled their hours by ceaseless work for others. All they knew of home, of the grace of existence, of the joys round the hearth, THE SECRET ORCHyfRD ]9l was given to them by Helen. And all the rooted tenderness a man has in him to give wife and child ' all Its overshadowing solicitude, its care and thought' Its ceaseless preoccupation, these two solitary men Helen °*' ""consciously, most purely, given to The Canon of course, was fully convinced that the motures which for fourteen years had induced him so persistently to refuse all the preferments periodically offered to a man of his name, attainments and saintly reputation, were an unmixed devotion to his little flock and a humble desire of working out his salvation in comparative obscurity. That Dr. Lebel. again, had grown grey by the bedside of the country poor, when the same amount of work might have placed one of his capacity in the first rank of his profession in Paris. ance of fashionable humbug, to his determined pref- 17T r.^ "«="sarily les, degenerate humanity of the fields. "I like," he would say, "to work ilftheTe'^""''^*'*^ ''"'^- ' "^' "^ **"'""" "**""^ The real fact, however, blissfuUy ignored by both, was that their whole existence had. for fourteen years, circled round Helen as inevitably as that of a man round his natural home. Helen 1 In words even to each other it was, of course, Madam, la DucAesse. In their hearts she was "Helen." their child, the light of their eyes! The Canon took a fresh pinch and spilt the half oi It m most unwonted slovenliness. 19^ THE SECRET ORCHARD "But, surely, •urcly,- he urged, with an attempt to re-establish himself upon his former height of happy, chariuble security, and to argue down the clamorous voices of a thousand misgivings, "surely. my dear Doctor, you are frightening yourself— you •re frightening me— rather unnecessarily. Granted that Joy is perhaps too attractive to young men, granted that it is not a very prudent thing for the Duchess to have burdened herself with an adopted child of that age (having so little knowledge of her previous life) more than this cannot be said. Her manner is perfectly modest. She seems an innocent, well-broMfht-up young person. Do you not think so? Have you observed anything forward, anything displeasing in her manner? As for me, she has struck me, I must say, as possessing quite remarkable reserve." The Doctor, with his mouth open, his jaw thrust on one side, sat scratching his chin and rolling a deeply reflective eye upon the priest. There was a pause. Then the man of medicine let his hands fall with a clap upon his stout knees, shook his head and, stooping down, earnestly surveyed the patch of gravel between his feet. "Too much reserve! That is the very thine. T is n't natural." ^ But the priest had already found consolation in his own arguments. "It IS the maidenly instinct, my good Doctor. Come, come ! you see eveiything black this morning! Why, the Duchess is delighted. And has she not THE SECRET ORCHARD 2?? had every opportunity of judging? She has the girl with her, morning, noon and night." The Doctor threw back his head. " The Dv-hess? " jBsaid. "Oh, don't use /Aa/ as an argument, inont Why, the s as easy to take in as yourself: result of the long practice of charity. I suppose. Suspect no evil, eh? (Bless her! Bless her!) But she's not a clever woman." The Canon was ama«ed. He was shocked. In Ws ears it sounded almost like blasphemy. Not clever? Not perfection ? — their Helen I •• Monsieur Lebel I " he exclaimed. "No, Monsieur de Hauteroche, I am not mad. I know what I am saying. Who wanU her clever? Not I. Who wants her different? Not I. She's forty times better than the cleverest woman that ever breathed. She has got the intelligence of the heart, tht tact of the heart. Ah, no one wiU ever beat her there! Look you, man: it is because she is what ■he b . . . well, we need not talk about that, you and I. But things would hit her hard, you know: and, m short, I don't like the look of it all up there." Why, then," said the priest, infectious fear again invadmg all his n;asonlng faculties, "the best thing that can happen is that this Mr. Dodd should many Joy. From certain littie indications," said the Canon, with an air of great woridly acumen, " obtuse as I may be. my old friend, I am convinced that this young American has the most serious intentions." "Oh, yes," said the Doctor. "Yes, yes!" He lay back upon tiie bench, gazing upwards at the blue 198 THE SECRET ORCHARD sky with vacant eyes, and thrust his hands deep into his pockets. ^ "Why, then," pursued the priest, delighted, "Providence has already provided. They must be married. What more simple? The young girl's future is happily assured. And a possibly — ah — disturbing element is removed from the house. Mr. Dodd will have to return to America very soon. And there we are. And I myself— Hein ! what did you say?" "I said: 'Marry them,'" remarked the Doctor, still staring at the blue. " Marry them ? " repeated the other. " Of course." " Marry them," said the Doctor, " if you can." "Hein?" said the priest again. M. Lebel gathered himself together. Fertile in methods of expressing the state of his mind by the contortions of his body, he now drew himself up into a sort of hard knot, his arms clasped round his knees. "Oh, you might marry him, fast enough. But she won't have him." He suddenly unclasped him- self and fell apart, both hands, fingers outstretched, flung out with the utmost emphasis. " She 's shown that pretty plainly. She has her eye on some one else. Canon — the Duke!" The Canon felt as if he were being whiried round m some sudden and amazing whiriwind: all his thoughts danced giddily, aimlessly, like dry leaves in an autumn blast. " But," he exclaimed, feebly catching at the diy W THE SECRET ORCHARD ^ '99 leaf that bobbed up oftenest, " she cannot marry the Duke ! " ' There was a pause, an awful pause, while the Doctor looked at the priest. The Canon felt his skin grow cold and stiffen. " No, she cannot marry the Duke," said the other at last, very slowly. Then he added quickly, with his expressive gesture: "Don't misunderstand me. Thus far all is right, of course. A week ! But have not you noticed? The Duke avoids her, he is un- comfortable near her. He is afraid of her. Why? I told you why, just now: he is a man, fiard/eu. Afraid of her did I say? He is afraid of himself! And, what is more, the Duchess has noticed some- thing unusual about him. She 's asked me to catch him and prescribe for him to-day. She thinks him looking ill. She ought to have asked you — but we shall see." "Oh!" cried the priest, and clasped his hands, "for God's sake. Doctor! Oh, my God!" He raised and shook his clasped hands. " This dreadful world! The Duke is a man of honour, Lebel — besides, he loves his wife. There is loyalty to keep him, the sanctity of hospitality. You see, I speak of no higher rule." ^ " The Duke is a man," said the Doctor, doggedly. " I don't know much about the higher rule, but I know men. So did the old chronicler, by-the-bye, whom you call inspired. Did Adam refuse the apple when Eve offered? Does any Adam ever refuse the apple from a pretty Eve? Ah, if he refuses once, 200 THE SECRET ORCHjiRD Not if I know I warrant he does not refuse twice I human nature." "Alas, alas!" wailed the other. "Poor human nature I Poor indeed when it will depend on its own strength." " Come," said the Doctor, with affected roughness, "this is no moment for jeremiads. I interrupted your meditations (ahem !) to-day because I felt the matter was urgent enough. By a stroke of good luck it appears that Monsieur Favereau is expected back. Our three good heads together should find a respectable way out of this business." "Unfortunately," said the Canon, still heavily troubled, " there is a diocesan meeting at Versailles, this afternoon. Even now," said he after consulting his watch, " I ought to be thinking of making my way to the station. Impossible to say if I can return to-night or only in time for my mass to-morrow morning. It is most unfortunate I " " Oh, to-morrow will be time enough, let us hope ! " said the Doctor, wi* a laugh. " Time will be wanted — time and tact" " To vary the simile, in short," said- M. Lebel, briskly, as he accompanied the Canon part of the way down the shady avenue of chestnuts towards the white high-road leading to the village, " to vary the simile, my old friend, there is a serpent in our paradise, and we must— and shall — get rid of the creature before it has time to do the mischief which is in its serpent nature to do ! " i I CHAPTER XXI " IT was very cool in the long drawing-room of the chateau, where groups of antique, gilt-legged, brocade-covered furniture made islands in a shin- ing sea of parquet flooring. The walls, with the old pastels led into their white panels, stretched to an mcredjbly high ceiling, where dim chubby cupids wreathed in azure ribbons and pale roses chased one another across clouded blue skies. Upon one of the little islands, protected from the outer world by a curveting gilt and glass screen, the Duchess and her friend, Madame Rodriguez, sat un- der the spreading fans of a palm. They were pleas- antly installed between the reseda-scented breeze that blew in from one of the open windows and the incense rising from a fantastically large bowl of roses enthroned on a low marble and gilt-chained, altar- like tripod. Helen, in her lilac-tinted morning gown, lying back against the pale green cushion of the causeuu, looked an image of rest and placidity — rest, although her long white fingers moved ceaselessly with flash of knitting-needle in the mass of wool in her lap; placidity, although one who knew her well might 202 THE SECRET ORCHARD have traced on her brow and in her eyes a secret weight of trouble. Nessie, a very antithesis, sat on a spindle-legged chair at a spindle-legged writing-table — if indeed the verb " to sit" can apply to a kaleidoscopic change of position that never permitted a minute's quies- cence in the same attitude. The little lady's apricot cheek was flushed ; her crisp hair, twisted this way and that by the frequent clutch of impatient fingers, suggested an impression of mutiny unwonted in those well-drilled tresses. Five or six sheets of paper, crumpled or torn across, lying around her. as well as ink-stains on the small fingers and even one or two upon the lace rufilesof that elaborate primrose-ribboned negligee — in which she had cut such a charming figure only an hour ago — bore witness that her agitation was con- nected with the inditing of a letter. She now bent her head over the blotter The much nibbled and ruffled goose-quill was plunged vindictively into the ink. Scratch, scrat-'i went the nib in great black lines across the new sheet, with an energy that set every separate vaporous frill quivering. Suddenly the pen was dashed aside and the writer wheeled round in her chair, waving the result of her labour. " Listen, Helen — " * Mrs. Ne^ie P. Rodriguez begs to inform Mr. Ruy An- tonio Rodriguez that she declines to hav tny further com- munication with him of any kind or description whatever. THE SECRET ORCHARD aoj " ' " Mr. Ruy Antonio Rodriguez goes on pestering Mrs. Nessie P. Rodriguez in the same manner as before, she wiU certamly p. « the matter in the hands of her lawyers.' "What do you think of that? That 's pretty clear. IS It not? The Duchess turned the corner of her row without looking up. Then she said gently : " I would not send that, Nessie." Mrs. Nessie P. Rodriguez hereupon fell into a violent state of indignation, in which she fluttered and pecked about as effectively as a robin in a rage "Oh, would you not, though!" This was sar- castic. " No, of course you would not" This was sheer temper. "If your Duke played the same games on you as Rodriguez does on me, you would just turn up your eyes to heaven and pray for his soul." This was scathingly contemptuous. Then she be- came pathetic. " Oh, it 's very eesy for you to talk I I 'd forgive the Duke anything myself; but when you have to deal with a real " (sob) " low-down sort of" (sob) "creature like Rodriguez " Here her feelings became too deep for words. Helen had raised her eyes. Her voice, after Nessie's vibrating nasal anger, fell like balm. " He is your husband." At this the human robin literally fluttered into the air. Down went the pen on one side, the sheet of paper on the other. The small feet stamped, the small fists gesticulated. •And that's the very worst thing about the whole ao4 THE SECRET ORCHARD sickening business. My husband! My husband I Lord, I could forgive him anything but that I " She gave an angry laugh. And then — for the saviijg grace of real humour extends in many direc- tions — futile rage fell away, and the comical side of her situation began to assert itself. "Well, I am not built like you, Helen, and that's about it. I am just sick of being treated like an automatic machine for the delivery of banknotes. 'Pon my soul, that Jlodriguez thinks he has only to drop a penny stamp in the slot, and out will come a cheque 1 It isn't even always a penny. I have known him do it on a halfpenny postcard. Faugh I No, now there is n't a mite of good in your going on like that, Helen. I have not got one spark of Chris- tian feeling left for th^t man. No, nor I am not go- ing to pray for his conversion. Why, we might meet again in the next world ! And I don't think my halo would sit at all comfortably if I did not know he was having a real good frizzle somewhere else." Her familiar cackle sounded quite heart-whole and , refreshing. Helen smiled with indulgent, amused rebuke, as upon a kitten or a child or some other irresponsible but delightful little animal. Madame Nessie picked up her pen, and nibbled it with her head on one side, restored to good humour by a just appreciation of her own wit. A footman, in his pink-and-white striped morning- jacket, came round the screen and presented a tele- gram on a tray. " For Madame," he said, holding it under Nessie's hand. THE SECRET ORCHARD 205 Mercy!" said she, and eyed it with sidelong, shy glance. Then she snapped up the folded blue paper and watched the servant's retreating figure wtl^rh ' "^^ ' a well-trained young .an^HeTcn! I wonder how long he stood at the door waiting for a pause .n our conversation. I expect my voice car- ries some way." ^ "iwctar "Jean is a good lad." said Helen, who took deep personal interest m every member of her household ; I do not hmk he would listen at the door. Your telegram, Nessie?" Madame Rodriguez turned the bit of paper over and over. Thin **r'\"^^ u^*" '^^'^ °^ '^" *^* ^'^ Childishly, pulled ,t open. The next minute. " Mercy 1" she hanl '?'";; *'" ?'"' '" ^'"" ^«»^«-' «d rose! priaid?::' ^''^'^''"^ "^'^"--^ ^---^^-p- tou^h. ^^^ '**^*'' ''"P**'*"'^>' »^°«1^ off the kindly a iiorriT r'*''''cV*'" '^" "*'"'='-^^ *« »»«»«Jf- " It 's sively the next moment smoothed it out aeain 5^r„ Wl"'* ^^'"^ ^^" -<» mouthingT,; Zl Tf i ^ '^^ "'*^^' *"o^«d the blue slip of paper to flutter from her hand, and sinking into her chair, rocked herself backwards and forwaSs. ao6 THE SECRET ORCHARD I! Now really alarmed, her friend took up the tele- gram, and read for herself — "Don Ruy Rodriguez dangerously ill — typhus. Begs you will not come— fear of infection. Send immediately four thousand francs for necessary expenses. Matter roost urgent I transmit his dying love. — Manuel Cortez y Mendoza, Grand Hotel Biarritx." "Oh, oh, oh!" moared Nessie. "Read it out, Helen ! " Listening, she punctuated each sentence with a short sharp groan. " What does he say it is now? Typhus!" She sat up. A flicker of doubt appeared in her distraught eye. She suddenly grew calmer. "Typhus. That's new. That's a new disease. He's never had typhus yet. What does typhus run \of" The Duchess, who had assimilated the contents of the dispatch to her great relief (having sufficient knowledge of M. Rodriguez's previous history to feel very little anxiety on the score of his health news), and who was moved with no little indignation against one who could play so successfully upon a woman's tenderness, answered drily enough: " Four thousand francs." An agony of doubt distorted Nessie's countenance. " That 's cheap," she exclaimed, jumping to her feet once more. " Lord's sakes, perhaps it 's true 1 " She clutched her friend's wrist and shook it violently. " Don't say it's true ! " And, bursting into tears, she once again dropped on her chair. THE SECRET ORCHARD ao7 The crunch of the Doctor's heavy foot on the gravel resounded from outside. His sturdy bulk presently filled up the open window-space. "Heyday," said the cheery voice, as its owner paused to look in, "what have we here?" He untidily stuffed the bandana handkerchief with which he was mopping his brown shining face into the side pocket of his alpaca jacket, and advanced, sud- denly professional. The soles of his country-made boots squeaked on the polished boards. " Hysterics, Madame Rodriguez had indeed become quite con- vulsive in her distress. The Doctor surveyed her with a somewhat callous eye. Then he turned to the Duchess, who was vainly endeavouring to administer consolation. " Leave her alone, Madame," he said. " It is the very worst thing in the world to fuss about an hysterical patient. Now, my treatment is to pour cold water gently down the neck, and then to leave the afflictf 1 person quite alone, in a thorough draught if possible. I have never known it fail. Allow me to ring for some cold water." Not regarding the situation as serious, and amused by the sudden listening tension that had come over Nessie's figure as well as by M. Lebel's quizzical expression, even tender-hearted Helen was unable to refrain from laughter. " Hush, Doctor," she murmured, trying in vain to keep the note of mirth from her voice, "she has had bad news/* ao8 THE SECRET ORCHARD Madame Rodriguez sprang to her feet, indignation for the nonce over-riding all other emotions. " Doctor," she exclaimed, " you are a perfect brute ! Helen! how dare you laugh?" She settled her ruffled feathers and assumed an air of great dignity. " I am going to pack my trunks, anyhow, and take the first rail to nurse my dying husband ! " "Watt, Nessie, wait!" urged the Duchess, and stretched out a detaining hand. " Oh, truly, darling, I am not heartless, bnt — the fact is, I don't quite believe in that te|egram." Nessie folded her arms. " How dare you, Helen?" " May one see, Madame?" interposed the Doctor. And, without waiting for further permission, he took up the dispatch. " You know, Nessie/' went on Helen, eye and tone pleading pardon for the merriment that still shook her — " you know last week it was influenza, and that was fifteen thousand francs." " Oh, you have made us all aware of the gentleman's ways," said the Doctor. Then, with his great laugh, tapping the bit of paper, he added : " And I am afraid — for your sake, I am afraid — there is not a shred of truth in this." But Nessie, for no reason that can be assigned, was determined to view matters on the tragic side. " Oh \ " she cried, with a sharp ejaculation that was like the pop of a champagne cork. She shook herself free of the Duchess. " I 'm going to pack, anyhow." The Doctor was as resourceful by long habit as he was good-natured by disposition. THE SECRET ORCHARD 209 "Ah, well -hold I It is easy to ascertain rt,. tn.th without putting one's self ou't so ^h^Lok ftarntz, I n telegraph to him this ve^r moment With precedence we 'II have the answer in an hour " B^ M ?"!"i ''^*' '^ ^"""^ '^*^* ' " "•«<* Helen. But Nessie had stalked majestically to the door looked back at them, a being destined so completely by nature for the light side of existence tharallht ^cZlT J"''r '"" *"' ^""^'y concern only succeeded m makmg her somehow more comical than n her gayest moments. Shrilly, solemnly and war^ room - Titama playing at Cassandra : ^ wh.t^^^ ^*'" "*''" f^'^ ^^*' •' « not to know whether you 're going to be a widow or not I " oen L T"" 'l"^^'** °"' ^°"^' « h« 'tylographic ch^ged "^ ""' ''^'^"'" '"'"• «"' "^'«^» face sio':^.tSf t^i:^y^'"« ^ DolT ""^ *' **'"'"''" ^°"' ^*^»™^'" «M the Helen was neither nervous nor morbid Th. „^ Brushing away the mental cloud, ,he did as th. Doctor bade her and stood smiling thif I i^ M characteristic way, he gave directions't. th' Lt„.t aio THE SECRET ORCHARD " Here, Joseph — no, by the way, you 're John, you •re, well, it does not matter anyway — take this to the chemist — I mean to the post'OfKce — to be made up. Tut, tut t I mean, forwarded at once, with pre- cedence, understand?" As the door closed on the servant, Lebel wheeled round his chair, clapped his hands on his knees and drew the long breath which generally preceded his entry into professional matters. " Well," said he, " here I am. Where is my patient? Where is the Duke ? " " He will be here in a minute. He said he would ride to Versailles and be back for luncheon." She clasped her fingers over her knitting and glanced up at the friendly face. " I am anxious," she went on. " Oh, pooh ! " said the Doctor. " No, indeed, Doctor, he is not well ; I have never seen him like this before. Of course he does not complain ; he won't even admit that he is ill. But he does not eat, he does not sleep. He is restless. He walks and walks, and rides and rides, as if to shake off something — I don't know what — some- thing that seems to be coming over him." " Eh, eh," said the man of medicine, reflectively, with his chin on one side and his fingers burrowing in beard stubble. " Temper short ? Irritable? " " Oh, no, no, no I " she cried. " He has never been tenderer to me, never sweeter in his courtesy to every one around him. He laughs, he talks ; but there Is a sad look on his face. Doctor, when he does not know that I am watching." •* Ah f " commented M Lehi.1 ««j *u """ finger, reached hi. ear wheTe !h u ^^" ''•"^^^ng pulling. ***'* *''*y »»«'*«d. pensively " I am afraid." Helen pursued " ,«m^; he may be feeline «om* ^,, ^*'' '©'"etlmes, that that he i, tr^ZfoZ, I " """'"^ "P^" '""'J thing i„ the Doctor's^ttiudeXkherT; , ''"" Instantly every fibre of her be na ♦!, n ? *'*'"'"'"&• "Doctor, you don't think— nK'"''' *° **"*>'' really going to be ill?'" ^^' "^^ ^*>^' » »•« "III? Not he." said the Doctor ••Th..«. •m. Mad,™.. t:„r ;* ~:!?"- ^"- doctors much work n«. ^ocsnt give us •■ I ■!! have a look at Wm 1 °'*' "^'^ '""<'• but even ourDukrhr. r ? " "T/ """•"■ the live, can play th.".^,- 'I' i,',"" «'"" »» "V- excuse the word" ' """ ""«>«me3; .ha?.'i,e"'Docr;,';:Lr ""'""• "> ""•" »»""* -ad ca^gh. .ie oSr/TdV " ""• ^'" •venae trees. '' '""" ""< "■>'• £^U»-^»tS,^'ri.1S,:V loolted at his wife wistfully and thJ u , "' asain^asif.hesigh.ofhKsJuSgJt"^"-'' B-r^aZcr.Kn'S'h'uror.hrie"? .r account of the An,. ■ ""•*" " '• «" on wI«.tas,»rt,tna|«Z ""'"• ^""' "> •*« He .1^ k- F«">chnian can be, eh?" touch"; But Dr Sr^,!!!?",'"'! '"> ''"*' •« «■« -a^wi. a faini--rr£-£- rsit P"''''f