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The pos) of tl film Ori( beg the sior oth< first sion oril The shal TINl whii ly/lar diffi enti begi righ reqi met 10X 14X 18X 22X 26X 30X y ;2x 16X 20X 24X 28X 32X The copy filmed here has been reproduced thanks to the generosity of: National Library of Canada L'exemplaire filmA fut reproduit grAce it la ginArosit* de: Bibliothdque nationale du Canada The images appearing here are the best quality possible considering the condition and legibility of the oiiginai copy and in keeping with the filming contract specifications. Les Images suivantes ont 6t6 reproduites avec le plus grand soin. compte tenu de la condition et de la nettetA de l'exemplaire filmi. et en conformity avec les conditions du contrat de fiimage. Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed beginning with the front cover and ending on the last page with a printed or Illustrated impres- sion, or the back cover when approprisiie. 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Entered according to Act of Parliament in the year 1889, by John Lovell 6* Son, in the offic^ of the Minister of Agriculture and Statlalics at Ottawa. — -.< WAS raiinUN INK HyMOli WOOED? CHAPTER I. WIIKN !'APA C(>Mi:s HOME. Ix the bric^lit June sunlij^ht, aiul amidst the perfume of roses which chistcrcd on hushes round the lawn and on the carefulU'-trimmcd climbers on the walls of the ancient manor, a sturdy boy of six years was Inlaying with his t(n's on the velvet-like turf of the (^reen terrace, lie had steamboats, railway engines with carriacjjes, and, most prized of all, a battalion of soldiers, infantry and cavalr\', with their equipments of j:^uns and horses complete. The child was dressed in black, but that had no meaning for him whilst he was busily arranging his horse-soldiers for some great tournament such as the Knights of the Round Table fought. Ueside him, on a garden seat, was liis mother — \oung, beautiful, id V and very paie. She also was dressed in black. In her hand was a letter, which at intervals she lifted from her lap to read a few lines, and then wipe her sad eyes with a handkerchief All the while the boy went on with his play, and tr.'lS £r£A' WOMAN the innodcnt, but at present painful, prattle of happy, healthy childhood, constantly iterating a favorite phrase. '* When papa comes home he will sl.ow me how that gun should be arranged so as to knock all these men down. Won't that be fun, mamma ?" Then he went on with what would have been, under other circumstances, a pleasing list of imaginary things which were to happen " when papa came home." But the letter which Lady Bcvan held in her hand made the words jar on her ears and heart. The letter was from the comrade and devoted friend of her husband, and it told her that she was a widow. She had received it about three monilis ago, and at first refusing to believe the fatal news, she had waited until confirmation came from other sources. Then she put on mourning. To-day she was anxiously avvaiting the arrival of the writer of the letter, Colonel Quinton, who had accompanied lier late liusband on his hunting expedition into the wilds of Africa, and from him she expected to learn the details of the calamity which had befallen her. Meanwhile, the prattle of the child a^^^i-.c the many wonders which were to be wrought " when papa came home" wrung her heart with anguish. Again and again she was on the point of crying out — "Papa will never come home again I " But she suppressed the impulse, for the child was happy in his ignorance, and she only said very quietly — " You do not understand, Bert. It will be a long, long time before you see papa." " Oh, then, I must keep these soldiers pretty, for JX THIS IICMOK UOOEDf he would not like to sec thcni broken and in pieces, as if they had been in battle when he was not here. • • ' There's a carriage, mamma. Perhaps that is papa," cried the child eagerly. Lady Bevan rose and beckoned to the nursemaid, who stood at a little distance. " Stay here with Bert until I send for you." Whilst she spoke a footman advanced with a silver salver on which lay the card of Colonel Gifford Quin- ton. For a moment Lady Bevan held the card in a trembling hand, then, mastering the emotion which the arrival of her husband's companion caused, she bade the servant tell Colonel Quinton that she would see him immediately. She delayed only to kiss her child and to endeavor to steady herself to listen with calmness to the story of her husband's fate. Then she proceeded to the house, and found Colonel Quinton in the drawing- room. He was a tall man, slim, and, although only about forty, there were grey lines in his bushy hair and moustache and wrinkles under hiseyes, indicating that he had passed through many hardships. There was in the keen grey eyes something that denoted him to be a man of prompt decision and active habit. He advanced to Lady Bevan with both hands extended, and she took them. " Don't speak," he said in a pleading tone; "you cannot say, as I know you would like to say, that I am welcome, for I bring you the worst tidings that a loving wife can hear. Only say that you forgive me for being unluckily the bearer of the bad news, and I 3hall be content." tr.-iS EVEk wo MAX •* I cannot say anything, C ncl Quinton," she answered, nervously, " except that as the true fricml and constant companion of my husband you are wel- come to Warburton, and that I am grateful to you for coming with such speed to give me an explanation of what has happened. I know that he has gone, and yet, whilst it pains me, I crave to know under what circumstances he perished." "You must sit down, dear Lady Bevan, and exjrt all your power of self-restraint if you wish me to speak freely. I am not sure that I can control myself, for you know how close was our friendship and how close the bonds between us were drawn by constant asso- ciation from childhood to manhood — all a favor on his side— and it was at his instigation that his father's influence obtained for me the opportunity to win my place in the army." " He was always prouJ of your friendship and promotion. We need not talk of that now — tell me about him." The colonel bowed and drew from his breast pocket a bulky envelope, upon which the widow fixed her eyes eagerly. •' All the w^ay home I have been trying to prepare myself for this meeting ; and yet I find it difficult to speak. You will forgive my bluntness in telling you what happened as briefly as possible. Our first weeks in the dark continent were pleasantly spent, and our sport was so excellent that Bevan determined to push on into unknown regions, and I — to my bitter sorrow — did not attempt to dissuade him. We had made no plans. I \ is humor was to go wherever the incidentii pf the day might lead us," IN THIS HUMOR WOOED ? 1 • '* Yes, he said it was to be his 1: .t adventure, and it has proved to be so," was the sad comment of Lady Bcvan, with a stifled sob and a mental cry of '" my poor Hubert." Quinton proceeded, " Ik'sides I^evan's devoted servant, Sturgis, we had with us only half-a-dozen Zanzibaris to carry our baggage. The smallne'i's of our party was our best protection from the suspicion of the chiefs of the villages tlinigh which we passed, and we were treated fairly well, although we had to guard our stores carefully. After two months of wandering we camped for the night in a wild district on the out- skirts of a dense forest. As we smoked our pipes by the camp fire, and talked of home, discussing arrange- ments for our return, we had no sense of danger. The colonel paused, as if the recollection of the scene which followed rendered it difficult for him to speak calmly. ** Yes ? " said the widow, tremulously. "At that moment, when we were full of happy thoughts of our home-coming, we were attacked by i band of savage fiends. Poor Sturgis was stricken down at the first onslaught as he darted forward to protect his master. Our carriers disappeared, and Bcvan and I were left to face the wretches. We used our revolvers, and the efifect was to drive ofi" the assailants, but when I turned to Bevan I found that his neck and breast had been pierced by two arrows. The arrows were poisoned, and I had neither skill nor means to counteract the effects of the poison." • i m\s i-r/-K u'OMAX "Did the end come quickly?" she asked with a calmness which indicated the intensity of her pain. " No ; he lingered for eight days, and at times I even hoped that his strong constitution would enable him to survive. I need not say that I nursed him with all the care that was possible. When he slept I went about seeking some village where assistance might be obtained. Hut I dared not leave him for more than an hour or two, and always on my retprn I found him awake and distressed by my absence, although he was patient and fully comprehended why he liad been left alone. At length he said — *" It is no use, Quinton ; you can do nothing for me except to stay beside me till the end comes. Don't leave me again.' " I tried to give liim hope, but he shook his head and bade me find some paper and write his last message to you whilst lie had strength to sign it. I obeyed, and you will find in this packet all that he told me to write. One of his last instructions was that I should not trust it to messengers and the post, but carry it with my own hand to you. I have done so." He handed the packet to her, and there was silence. By-and-bye she spoke, but her voice did not rise above a whisper. " Did he — did he suffer much ? " i " i am afraid he suffered a great deal," answered the colonel; "but he bore it bravely, and spoke lightly of his wounds except when lie thought of you. Then the pain was mpst acute, and he blamed himself " c- /x THIS i/i'MOK ivooi:d? bitterly for having disrcg.irdcd your wish that he would not proceed on this expedition. I wish I had known your objection to it, so that I might liave joined you in opposing it instead of being as eager as himself to undertake it." •'You are very good, Colonel Quinton," she said, with a feeble attempt to smile. "Thank you; and now ^ will leave you to the care of Harris. 'Xfter I have looked at this last message from my husband we will talk about it." She hurrif:d to the library, which i.' ' been her husband's favorite room. There, when not absent on some hunting, shooting, or fishing expedition, he had spent most of his time, and there his wife had often read to him the narratives of famous travelers and sportsmen, and stories of adventure in unknown lands. These readings had put the African expedi- tion into his head ; and when Colonel Quinton, who had been out with an exploring party, came liome with glowing accounts of what rare sport was to be had in the dark continc!it, he determined to have a few months' holiday in that region. He promised his wife that this should be his last long excursion from home, and she submitted, as she always did, when she saw that he was deeply interested in any project. She never thought of suggesting that it was unkind to leave her for such a period as must elapse before he could return. What pleased him, pleased her because it pleased him. She was not a woman of the world who could find any amount of amusement during the absence of her spouse in the routine of SQciety engagements. She loved her hgme and h^r /*/ I lO n^AS EVER WOMAN- child. Perhaps this very domesticity of her nature rendered Sir Hubert the more eager to seek excite- ment in the hunting field, on the race-course, and, at last, in Africa. She was glad that he should find pleasure in any way, and was quite unconscious that there was selfishness on his part in finding so much of liis amusement away from home. She had trembled and felt unhappy as she thought of the dangers he might encounter. But he had " laughed her fears to scorn," or, to what is more painful, ridi- cule, and had started on his sporting expedition with a light heart. And now ! . . He was dead, and she held in her hand the packet containing his dying message to her. The envelope was only fastened with ordinary gum, and yet her hands trembled so that she could not at once open it. She was sick at heart because she knew that she was to read — to listen, rather — to the last words of the man who had been dearer to her than all the world. She turned to the window as if to seek strength froiTk the bright sunshine without. There, on the green terrace, ^ as her boy, laughing, shouting, with glee, and arranging i.'s soldiers under the direction of Colonel Ouinton. .■^l;t turned from the sight with a shudder. His UM^f should have been with Bert, and yet the child w.s as happy as if he had been with him. She could not help sobbing, and yet she was thankful for the blindness of childhood to the misfortunes of the day. Bert knew nothing of the bitterness contained in thq word death. It was good that it should be !?o. /X THIS HUMOR WOOED? It She wiped her eyes, and, »vith more cahiiness than she had believed herself capable of, opened the packet she had received from the colonel. It contained n pocket diary, fastened with a Bramah lock, which looked much bruised, as if it had been tampered with ; but in her agitation she did not observe this, and, taking the duplicate key which was in her possession, opened the book. The diary was more than half filled with an account, written in hi.s own hand, of Sir Hubert Bevan's daily proceedings and observations from the date of his arrival in Zanzibar up to the day preceding that on which he had received his fatal wounds. On the first page were the words, " To my dear wife," and the opening sentences were as follows :- - " As it will be impossible to communicate with you often, I mean to write this record of my adventures as if talking to you. This will be a pleasant task, and when I get home you will have all the letters to read at once, and in the meanwhile I shall have the joy of cheating myself with the fancy that I am not writing to you thousands of miles away, but that you are at my side, and I am telling you about all the wonders we have seen and done." Tears blinded her, and she touched the page on which the loving words were penned reverently with her lips. As she did so a letter dropped from between the leaves of the book. She picked it up and laid the diary on the table. This was the message he had dictated to his friend with his last breath. The wife's fingers thrilled as if she had touched an electric current when shp took the paper in her hand. It was li 12 Jt'AS EVER WOMAN a long time before her tear-dimmed eyes could make out the words, few as they were : •* Quinton writes this for me ! He will tell you everything. I have only strength to say good-bye, Jane will take care of you. God bless you. '• Hubert Bevan." The brevity of the message, the painfully cramped pencil signature, so unlike his bold, free hand, revealed to her the dire extremity which he had reached when it was written, even more vividly than the colonel's words had done. As she gazed on the paper, reading the words again and again, she seemed as in a dream to become an eye-witness of that terrible scene. Her husband lying on the ground under the shadow of the great forest, no human creature near save that one faithful friend. The camp fire shining on the face of the dying man as he was raised a little by his friend in order that he might sign the message, and the torture he must have endured in the effort to accomplish even that slight task. She saw him, and she felt his agonies of mind and body. /.\* THIS HUMOR WOOED? t3 CHAPTER II. AUNT JANE. Lady Bevan was still in a half-tranced state when the door of the library gently opened, and a lady entered quietly. She was a tall, stately person of middle age, but her fair hair, smoothed close on the sides of her head, the plump, fresh-colored cheeks, and the bright blue eyes, in which there was always a twinkle of mirth and good humor except on the gravest occasions, made her appear still young. The kindly humor was in the eyes now, but not the mirth. She, too, was dressed in black. She paused for a few seconds, looking sympatheti- cally at the young widow. Then she said softly — " Nell, you have news. I hear that Colonel Quin- ton has arrived." Lady Bevan started, and, advancing quickly, clasped her arms round the speaker's neck. " Oh, Aunt Jane — it is all true. He is gone," she cried, with a great sob, and hid her face on the elder woman's breast. Aunt Jane tenderly embraced the heart-stricken one, and then soothingly passed her hand over the fair head which rested on her for support. She did not speak until the outburst of sobs began to subside. Then— M fFAS EVER WOMAN- m •* I was afraid that your hope of his escape would prove vain, dear," she said in a soft, full -toned voice. " But I did not like to dissuade you from the thought, because it gave you comfort. I almost tried to share your hope that my poor brother still lived. It seemed to be possible, seeing that we have had so many reports from Africa of people having been killed, or having perished in the wilds, who have come back to the world when everybody had become resigned to the idea that they were dead." " Colonel Quinton was with him till the end." " Then we know the worst," said Aunt Jane, sadly, but with something in her expression which indicated that she took the wise view of the position — that it was better to know the worst than to be harassed by doubt and vain hopes. " My poor, rash brother," she added, as if to herself, and passed a handkerchief across her eyes. " I am not able to repeat what Colonel Quinton told me." "You must not try, dear. I will see the colonel presently and hear the account from his own lips. I am sorry I was out when he arrived, as it would have spared the poor man having to tell his bad news twice had I been with you at the first telling. He cannot like the task." Lady Bevan was relieved by the presence of her warm-hearted, sympathetic sister-in-law, whose humor it was to insist upon being called " Aunt Jane " from the first birthday of her nephew Bert — a pet contrac- tion of Hubert. In the happy days before her brother had been seized with the idea of the fatal expedition she had said playfully : — IN THIS HUMOR WOOED t t% " I am an old maid, you know, although people say 1 don't look like it. But I am, all the same, and thanks be to goodness I know it. Having run the gauntlet of woman's enemy for — well, we won't say how many years — I am not likely to be captured now, even if any man was likely to try." There «he laughed merrily, and continued : " No ; it's quite settled. I am to be plain Aunt Jane for the rest of my days, and Bert and his father are the only male creatures I shall ever love — of course always excepting the dogs and the cats and the horses, not to mention the pigs and other favorites." But there was no sign of this light humor now. The pleasant laugh had been hushed since the first rumors of the disaster which had befallen them had reached the manor. Yet there was no gloom in her grief: the subdued voice, the absence of the cheery smile, the slower step, and the increased solicitude about little Bert and his mother were the only out- ward signs of her sorrow. " This is his diary," said Lady Bevan, returning to the table, "and here are the last words he had for me. He had not strength to write them himself — barely enough even to sign his name." Aunt Jane read the message. Her lips were closed tightly, and the rising and falling of her bosom beto- kened the sigh she suppressed. " Yes, Nell, I will take care of you for his sake,'* she said, with an earnestness that imparted solemnity to the simple words as she kissed her sister-in-law. Then, as if returning to the business of the moment, and eager to escape any symptoms of sentimentality, i6 WAS EVER WOMAN' ! she added, somewhat briskly, " I must go and see the colonel now. You know I am eager to hear what he has to tell." "Yes, and will you ask him to excuse nie for to- day ? I did Intend to see him again, but I do not feel able for it now. You will have to dine tdte-a^Ute with him this evening. I hope it will not try you too much." " ril manage to get through it somehow. He can- not expect a cheerful entertainment in this house at present." " I hope to be able to see him to-morrow forenoon." Left alone, Lady Bevan turned with sad eagerness to the diary, or rather the series of letters written in the book. How blithely he detailed the start from Zanzibar, and with what happy anticipations it was made. Then came a^^counts of the inarches, with hasty descriptions of the country through which they passed, of the natives and the villages. But the chief item was the report of the birds and beasts which fell before their guns. There were frequent references to Colonel Quinton as the best comrade a man could have on such an adventure. He repeatedly praised his cheerfulness under all conditions of weather and fatigue; his endless store of anecdote and his infinite resource in overcoming every difficulty they encoun- tered in the course of their journey, whether it was in making a way through the jungle or in dealing with the natives. Quinton's capacities were extolled again and again. " I was laid up for a couple of days," ran one of the passages, " and Quinton proved himself a most FX Tins IIl'MOR WOOED? »7 competent doctor and nurse. I think Sturgis is jealous of him, for he has begun to look glumly at him, and seems to me to be watching him as if in the hope of catching him at fault in some way. Poor fellow, it is very amusing to see the signs of dislike with which he regards Quinton's movements. He'll get over it, I dare say." Sturgis v/as the baronet's faithful valet or hench- man, who had served his master devotedly for twenty years. He had accompanied him in all his travels, and once in Norway had rescued him from a fjord at the imminent peril of his own life, for Sir Hubert, in falling, had struck his head against a block of ice, which rendered him insensible, and the spot was near a whirlpool. " Poor Sturgis ! " thought Lady Bevan. " It must have been hard for him to be thrust aside when his master lay ill. I can understand his jealousy." On the sixth page from the one on which the narra- tive abruptly closed there was this passage, evidently penned in a state of excitement: — " I have been compelled to give Sturgis a thorough blowing up. Confound him ! He irritated me be- yond bearing. We halted for our noontide rest, Quinton, who never seems to be tired, said he would stroll ahead a bit to see how the land lay. I was lying down, smoking drowsily. Sturgis was squatted near me, cleaning our guns. His glum looks at last took the form of words. Suddenly, and apropos of nothing, he says in a sort of whisper — "'Asking pardon, Sir Hubert, I don't like Colonel Quinton,' I8 IKIS EVRR irOM.LV ' "'Who the — something — asked you whether you hked him or not ? ' I said, opening my eyes and staring at him. ' He is my friend, and that is enough for you.' " He went on scrubbing away at a gun-barrel, and I thought he was silenced, l^ut no ; he begins again with any amount of impudence in his words, but speaking so quietly that there was not the least impudence in his manner. *" Yes, sir; it is enough for me, if he is your friend.' " ' Hold your tongue, Sturgis, and do not let me hear another disrespectful word about Colonel Quin- ton, or — well, no, I can't leave you to find your way home alone; but when we do get home we shall part.' " I fancied that would close the mouth of the fool ; but you knc.*v what a stubborn old beggar he is when he gets anything in his head. I put down my pipe and settled myself for a nap. The fellow went on as if he had not heard my threat or did not heed it. He will find I am in earnest this time. And what do you think he says in his dogged way, in spite of my attempts to stop him by paying no attention after again ordering him to hold his tongue ? "* If you had seen him, sir, as I have, walking up and down o' nights when he thinks we are all sleep- ing, as if there was something on his conscience that wouldn't let him sleep even after the most tiring day's march ; if you had seen him, sir, as I have, stand again and again beside you, staring down at you with a face ugly as sin, and sometimes work- M * 1 I IN 7 HIS HUMOR W'OOKD i 19 ing as though he was In a fit, you would, like me, doub*^ ' " I jumped up and caught the fellow by the throat. "*By the Lord, if you say one word more in dis- paragement of my friend, I'll choke you — you — something fool.' " That was how I spoke and flung him from me, feeling sorry for it before I had taken half a dozen paces away from him, for I remembered how true he had been to me these many years past. But you see I had completely lost my temper, and you will not wonder at it when you think of his persistence in trying to poison my mind against one t.f — nay, the best chum I have ever had. ** I think the row has done Sturgis good, for there has been no more of this rubbish, and he does not look glum now ; indeed, he has almost come back to his old quiet cheerfulness of manner. . There's Ouinton coming to report the result of a reconnaissance he has been making this morning, lie thinks we are nearing the village of a tribe about v/hose friendliness he is uncertain. So I must close the book for the present. Good-bye, my own Nell, till to-morrow." She pitied and sympathized with poor Sturgis in his anxiety about his master — :in anxiety so keen that he was ready at all times, and under the most absurd circumstances, to suspect danger to him from quarters in which no danger could possibly lurk. Lady Bevan read the few remaining pages, the last one being filled with a glowing description of a glorious sunrise and an enthusiastic account of the jr 20 ir.lS EVER WOMAN best morning's sport the party had yet had. He had been in high spirits when he wrote, and proud of the trophies he would bring home to his "own Nell." So full of joy were the words that she could hear his rich voice speaking them, and she could see the bright, happy expression in his eyes which would tell even more of Ids pleasure than the words. But she would never hear the voice again, never see the brave, handsome face again. "And why should all this be?" was her mental cry as her spirit rebelled against the affliction which had fallen upon her. Why should she, so young, be doomed to such unmerited sorrow ? Why should he — so strong, so endowed with the will and the power to do good for his fellow-men — be stricken down Jn the bloom of his manhood, when there were thousands of sickly and useless creatures living on, a burden to themselves and everyone around them ? Why But, lifting her eyes, she saw the portrait of her husband on the wall opposite with the glow of the setting sun full upon it, and beseemed to be looking at her reproachfully. She felt that she had given way to wicked thoughts, and, banishing the rebellious spirit from her heart, murmured humbly through her sobs, " His will be done." Thanks to the care of Aunt Jane, she was left undisturbed until nurse brought in Bert to spend an hour with his mother, as usual, before he was put to bed. The boy was in great glee over some manoeuvres " the colonel " had taught him to make with his soldiers, and he was eager to display his new accomplishment at once. IN Tins nVMOR WOOED t •t He had ud of the m Nell/' . hear his 1 see the ^vould tell But she r see the ;r mental ion which young, be should he the power n down jn thousands burden to Why rait of her ow of the DC looking lad given rebellious irough her e was left to spend -e he was over some n to make ay his new ■A i *' Not this evening, Bert, dear," she said, taking him o.i her knee ; " I will tell you a story instead." Ik^rt was always delighted to hear a story; and then she told him about a strange land where there were strange-looking people ana many wild birds and beasts ; how a gentleman just like papa had gone out to shoot the wild birds and beasts, and how the strange-looking people had stolen upon and killed him, so that he went to sleep and would not see his friends any more. "I don't like that tale," said Bert ; and then, after a pause, as if he had been puzzling his young brains over something, he asked, abruptly : "Why did Joni, the coachman, call me Sir Hubert this afternoon ? That's papa's name — mine is Bert ; isn't it, mamma ? " *' Yes, yes, dear," answered the mother, clasping him to her bosom. " Why, mamma ! " he exclaimed in surprise as he felt the hot tears on his brow, " you are crying again ! But you won't cry any more when papa comes home." In the case of Sir Hubert Bevan, Baronet, of Warbur- ton, and Ellen Hollett, only daught r of a wealthy Manchester merchant, the course of true love had for once run smooth. Bar a few days of sulking on the part of the baronet's nearest living relative — his sister Jane — on the first announcement of the engagement, there had not been a ripple or the faintest cloud on the stream. And after those few days* sulks, when Jane came to know her future sister-in-law, she became her most attached friend. So when the happy couple returned from a prolonged honeymoon tour — during which they had not once sighed for or I > •9 tr.^S EVER WO MAS' sought other company than their own — the wel :ome they received from the kindly-hearted spinster was the warmest of the many warm welcomes with which they were greeted. She did more : for, although passionately fond of her brother and tlie home in which she had been born and had spent all her life, she with wise discretion decided that the young wife should have undivided authority in the manor. Therefore, she first started on a lengthened round of visits amongst relatives in different parts of the country, where her good nature and blithe spirits had always made her a much-desired guest. On her return to Warburton she insisted upon taking up her abode in the jointure house, in spite of the appeals of Lady Ikvan and the almost angry protests of her brother. " You know, Hubert," she said, la-jghing at his anger, " I am your senior by a few hours — (" years, I mean, dear, you know," was an aside to her sister-in- law), "and I have always been as a mother to you. Well, the Dowager Lady Bevans have for generations wisely retired to their own house when the young lord of Warburton brought home its new mistress, and I am going to follow the good old custom." "What nonsense, Jane," exclaimed the brother irritably — and he was not easily ruffled by those he loved — "you are not in the position of a mother-in- law." "No nonsense at all about it, Hubert; your old maid of a sister is in exactly the same position in regard to Nell, for I mean to be a mother as well as sister to her. The house is ready, and I am to take up my abode there." ■ It: m THIS lir.MOR WOOED i rames. He ised to come [wood, about ung sporting London was Ascot races, ii.the country vation of the which he had ing. He had boon compa- elf, and, with - neighboring irrhts at Chorl- comparatively families were rival known to us immediately despatched to him, and the colonel for his own reasons thought proper to accept. At Chorlwood he was not bothered about the last hours of Sir Hubert, but he had to tell over and over again the story of what sport they had had in the wilds of Africa, and of the fight which had brought the excursion to such a gloomy close. With the elders the colonel spoke with becoming gravity; but amongst the jolly fellows who had all the world before them, he spoke with the coolness of a man of the world who does not indulge in sentiment, even over the death of his dearest friend. '• There's a rare plum for somebody to pluck at, Warburton," said rollicking Will Nethersole, a younger son of the squire of Harleigh. " The widow is sure to seek consolation in another husband." " I do not think she will marry again," said the colonel, gravely ; ** her grief is too intense ! " " Rubbish ! The deeper the weeds the sooner come wedding favors. Faith, I wish I had half your chances, Quinton. Here's luck to you — go in and win." " I dare say he'll have a few competitors for the prize," remarked Etheredge, with a self-complacent air. "A pretty widow with a fortune in her own right is not likely to snap at the first fly cast, even if she hadn't a mighty cute governor and a lynx-eyed sister-in-law to take care of her." " Maybe you are calculating on a run for the stakes yourself, Etheredge," laughed Nethersole. " I have done stupider things," was the cool retort, in a tone which implied that if he did join in the 39 IVAS EVER WOMAN running he had not much fear of being second at the winning post. The colonel made no remark. He filled his glass, lit another cigar, and appeared to give all his atten- tion to an eager discussion between two gentlemen near him as to the odds for and against this horse or that. This little passage occurred on the first night of his arrival at Chorlwood. He did not relish the conver- sation, mere chaff as it might be, and convinced in his own mind as he was that Etheredge was not the kind of man to win favor in the eyes of Lady Bevan. Yet, who could tell ? The likes and dislikes of women were often unaccountable, and the young squire had fortune, youth and good looks on his side to counterbalance ever so many bushels of wild oats and any degree of turf mania. IN THIS HUMOR WOOED i 33 CHAPTER IV. AN ADVANCE. Late as it was when he got to bed, the colonel was up betimes next morning, and, mounted on one of his host's best liacks, rode over to Warburton, in ac- cordance with his promise to Bert. The boy was all eagerness for the coming of his big playfellow, and, as soon as he saw him approaching, mounted his pony and was ready to set forth. The colonel only stayed to ask Harris if he had heard how her I ladyship had passed the night, and, receiving for ■answer the information that her ladyship was a little ^better, he rode off with his young fi'iend. On this morning the colonel completely won the )oy's heart with his stories of battles on land and sea, [of famous hunts, and desperate leaps over gates, walls, ledges and ditches ; but his conquest was irrevocably ratified by one small concession. Whilst they were fn sight of the manor, the colonel held the leading rein of Bert's pony, but when they entered the low- fying meadows which sloped down to the river, Bert jxclaimed eagerly : " I wonder when they will think me big enough to [ide my pony without that leading string ? " The " they " seemed to apply to everybody in general, and that he was not pleased with them for 2 • MU'ri-iiim wdtiatti ■HW 34 PV/1S EVER WOMAN continuing to treat him like a helpless baby. His companion laughed, and instantly comprehended his ambition. " I believe you are such a sturdy little man already that you might do without it now. There ; try." He flung the rein over the pony's neck and the boy snatched it up in his bridle-hand, whilst his eyes flashed with the delight of gratified ambition. He had long tried to wheedle, cajole and even scold the groom into granting him this privilege, but without success. At last he had his wish ! In his excite- ment he did not delay even to say " thank you," but instantly whipped his good-natured, steady-goin^j Shetland into its best gallop, shouting "Tally-ho! tally-ho ! " with might and main as he dashed across the fields, fancying that the hounds were in full cry and he close up with them. He would have at- tempted to take a fence had not the colonel, wh ) easily kept beside him, detected his intention, and warned him in time that the Shetland was not fit for the work. The pony was evidently of the same opinion, for, perceiving that its head was being directed straight against a hedge as high as itself, it deliberately slackened pace in spite of Bert's toy whip, and then deliberately turned away from the fence. The colonel, much to the boy's satisfaction, pre- tended to believe that this movement had been eff'ected by Bert in obedience to his warning. " But they'll let me have a horse soon, colonel — don't you think I could manage one } " said the bo\'. looking up with his flushed, pleased face. "If I had my way, you should have a biggci pony than that at once." ■ *■■.., 11 sl A m Tins HUMOR wooed? 3S man already re -, try." and the boy list his eyes nbition. He rcn scold the ;, but without n his cxcite- ank you," but steady-goiiv^ ig " Tally-ho 1 dashed across rere in full cry ould have at- e colonel, wh i intention, and was not fit for yr of the same ead was being high as itself, it Bert's toy whip, om the fence, satisfaction, pre- I ment had been | warning, soon, colonel- ? " said the boy| face, d have a bigger! "Ah — I wish you had your way. It would be nice to go straight across country, stopping at noth- ing." " I see you arc born to be a great hunter, Ikrt.'* This was the preliminary to many morning rides; and ail day after them the liouse was filled with culogiums of Colonel Ouinton. liert could speak of no one else to his mother and Aunt Jane. When they tired ofliis ceaseless chatter on tl^e one theme, lie bored his nurse, the groom, the ^^ardener or the staid old butler Harris with the same subject. He was al\va}'s bright and cheerful for the whole da\' after iie iiad been out for a ride with Jiis hero ; on the days the colonel failed to appear he was dull and inclined to be fretful. 'jlie mother smiled at his enthusiasm, and once said she was glad Jie had found a friend who interested iiini so much. lUit for some reason Aunt Jane did not ai^pear to be altogether satisfied with this daily increasing affection of the boy for the dead father's comrade; and still less satisfied with the complacent way in which the mother regarded it as a matter of course and to be expected. Lady lievan was uncon- scious of this feeling of dissatisfaction on the part of iher sister-in-law. What could be passing in Aunt Jane's mind ? Per- [haps she did not like the boy to be so iiappy after |the loss of his father; and perhaps she was angry with herself for allowing such a sentiment to find a [place in her mind. Be that as it may, there was a shadow upon her high spirits not wholly accounted for by the mourning garb she wore. i • I I 36 tV/IS EVER WOMAN She saw Colonel Quinton for a few minutes regu- larly after Ilia first call, cither when lie came for Bert or when lie brought him home. The chief topic of their brief conversations related to the progress of the invalid. It was not what they wished ; but there was progress. The patient was naturally despondent under the circumstiinces ; but when she regained strength enough to take the air she listened more willingly to Aunt Jane's hopeful views of her case, and was more inclined to share th.cm. *' Great as our loss is, Nell, dear," said the warm- hearted spinster, " }'ou must take care of yourself, and live for the sake of Bert." " I have often thought of that," was the answer, whilst a little worn, pale hand rested in the plump, healthy palm of the sister ; *' and I mean to do my best to get well for our boy's sake. lUit in my wear- iness, and when it seemed to me that I could not live, it was a comfort unspeakable to me to know that he would have in you a second mother who would care for him as tenderly as ever I could dt ." *' I would try, at any rate, and I am glad that your faith in me helped you. But Bert will have both of us to look after him, for you will be quite well again soon. The doctor is certain of it, and so am I." Her father, however — Mr. Hollett — was getting impatient witli the morbid broodings of his daughter, especially as at this time he was so much pressed by business that he could only pay flying visits to War- burton, arriving in the afternoon and going away early next morning. i n % 1 ?: U I P JN THIS nVMOR WOOED 1 37 :s regu- for Bert topic of 5S of the here was ider the strength liiv^ly to ,vas more well again am 1. vas getting is daughter, L pressed by sits to War- going away At length came the time when Lady Bcvan was ai)lc to see the cohoncl for a few minutes. Aunt Jane observed the expression of pleasure which flished in his eyes at the announcement, and fancied tliat his step was ([uick and eager as he followed Iier to the drawing-room. " Remember," slie wliispered as she opened the door, "do not talk about////// if)-ouc.in help it, and do not st'i)', even if she should ask )'ou." He bowed and they i-ntered. Lady Bevan was seated on a couch near the window, very pale and evidently weak. JUit she gave him a nmile of welcome that was all the sweeter for the tinge of sadness that was in it. The interview was brief. He expressed the gratification he felt in seeing her so far advanced in con\ alescence. She would soon be able to travel, and change of scene, etc., etc., would speedily bring back her strength and capacity to enjoy life again. Aunt Jane imagincl that he spoke with unnecessary warmth of tone, and fancied that he might have spoken still more warmly if she had not been present. She watched them both closely. Lady Bevan shook her head, was afraid that he took too hopeful a view, would be glad if his antici- pations sliould be verified, and then thanked him very prettily for all his attentions to poor little Bert, who was now There slie broke down, and at a sign from Aunt Jane he took his leave, expressing his earnest wish that he might be granted the privilege of seeing her for a moment whenever she felt strong enough to bear the sight of him even for that brief space. tn*' ! i III r 38 IF.L'? EVKR WOMAy lie was promised tliat he should have his wish, and a curious expression flitted over Aunt Jane's face — an expression such as m ,jht be evoked by a mingling of surprise and displeasure. After that he was permitted to see the widow occasionally, and the subject of the i\frican expedition was carefully avoided on both sides. By insensible degrees the length of time lie stayed with her extended from five to ten minutes, then to a quarter of an hour or more. But he was always ready at a sign from Aunt Jane to retire. There were many other callers at Warburton, and amongst the most constant Oliver Ethereclge, of Chorhvood. But they were all dismissed with her ladyship's compiimer.ts and thanks as she was still too weak to receive visitors. The squire knew that Quinton was received, and chafed at the idea after, as bethought, making all allowance for the circumstances which obtained for the colonel this special privilege. But his guest rarely mentioned the name of the mistress of Warburton, and appeared to be uncon- scious that he was the object of peculiar favor and envy. Much to the distress of Bert, the colonel one day told him that this would be their last ride together for some time, as he was going away. " Not to that nasty country where papa is staying," cried the boy, in alarm. *' Not quite so far — only to London. To-morrow afternoon I am coming to say good-bye to — to all my friends at Warburton." IN THIS HUMOR WOOEDl 39 [le widow expedition insensible r extended of an hour sign from heredge, of lonel one day ride together ^ pa is staying," To-morrow bye to— to all CHAPTER V. MlSArPREIIENSIONS. ( Accordingly, on the following afternoon, the colo- nel called at the manor. On entering the drawing- room he found neither Lady Bevan nor Aunt Jane, but Mr. Jabez Hollett, who had just arrived on one of his flying visits from Manchester. lie was a man of average height, broad-shouldered, keen-eyed, although wearing spectacles, and having grey mutton-chop whiskers, short iron-grey hair, and dressed trimly, but plainly. Anyone would recognize in him at the first glance the active and successful merchant. He was shrewd, straightforward, brisk in speech, quiet in demeanor as a rule, and always devoid ofany taint of that self-sufficiency wh'ch sometimes mars the better qualities of men who have won exceptional favors from Fortune. " Glad to see you again, colonel," he said cordially, as they shook hands. " I am sorry that since your I return from that bad business my visits here have [been too short, and the state of affairs too distressing for me to find an opportunity to shakehands with you [sooner, as I wished. Miss Bevan has given me an [account of your doings, and— you acted nobly, sir, mder the most unfortunate circumstances." " Only as Sir Hubert would have acted if our places I \\ i m li f fi 40 WAS EVER WOMAN- had been changed, and it would have been better M they had/* answered the colonel, with a deprecatory movement of the hand. "There would have been fewer kind hearts aching to-day." " Who knows — who knows ? " observed Mr. Hollett, contemplatively. " Although we may be quite sure that most of our friends will take our going easily, we never can tell how much we may be missed by the others." The colonel lifted his eyebrows quickly with pleased surprise and inquiry; but the movement was not answered, and. his countenance instantly became as composed as usual. He was thinking of Lady Bevan. Mr. Hollett was thinking of Aunt Jane, for his daugh- ter had told him long ago that she believed the colonel would have little difficulty in persuading that lady to abandon spinsterhood. *' Well, I should like to believe that there are two or three who would wish to keep me a little longeron this side of the grave," the colonel rejoined. " How is Lady Bevan to-day ? " " Still weak — still brooding, and the brooding will make an end of her if we cannot check it. I am try- ing to discover some way of persuading her to obey the doctors and to leave Warburton for a time. Unfortunately I cannot get away from business for a month or so; or I would at once carry her off on a yachting trip to the Mediterranean or somewhere. She used to be fond of the yacht.'" "It is a pity vou cannot arrange to go immediate- ly." " It is a pity and it is impossible. The transaction 1 # I IN THIS HUMOR WOOED ? 41 better Jf recatory have been 3 r. Hollett, quite sure ing easily, missed by ;ith pleased it was not became as .ady Bevan. his daugh- lieved the Buading that r )e which detains me i? the most important one I have ever entered upon, and will probably close my busi- ness career." Mr. Hollett said this in an apologetic way, as if he were trying to reconcile in his own mind the anxiety he felt regarding his daughter with that he felt about a business transaction, however exten- sive. '* Of course, if the doctors told me there was any danger of a sudden increase of illness I would not allow her to travel under the care of anyone except myself. But they do not." " I am glad of that." "So am 1," continued Mr. Hollett; and added abruptly wnilst looking searchingly at the Colonel: "Wish you had been some near relative, then you might have taken charge of them." Of course Aunt Jane would accompany her sister, and so he spoke of " them." " Unfortunately, I have not the happiness and honor of being a relative," was the answer, in a tone of sincere regret. " No ; of course not — more's the pity. And you are not rjuite old enough to play the part of paternal deputy, unless " He stopped and looked at the other, as if expect- ing him to say something which would at once remove the obstacle to the propriety of his acting as traveling guardian. " Unless what ? " was the apparently calm query, whilst in truth he was holding his breath in eagerness for the completion of the sentence. Mr. Hollett was disappointed. lie had been going rhe transaction ^ to say, " Unless you tell me that you are engaged, or here are two :tle longer on ^ tied. ''How brooding will it. I am try- g her to obey 1 for a time, business for a y her off on a 3r somewhere. go immediate- X ' IP; II I !l!.|!!l I I HI 11 ' 4a WAS EVER WOMAN- about to be engaged, to Miss Bevan," and he had left the sentence unfinished in the expectation that the colonel would make the wished-for avowal. " Unless — well — in fact, unless you had been a relation, or were likely to become one some day." The colonel understood now, and he, too, was disappointed. But he gave an answer which, whilst misleading his friend for the present, could be inter- preted in the future as he might find most expedient for himself. " It would be the greatest joy to me," he said, diffidently, " if I might hope that one day I should become related to Lady Bevan." "A man in good health may hope for anything; and you are hale and in the prime of life. However, as there seems to be nothing definitely settled yet, it won't do, and I must carry out the scheme I have thought about. That is, to persuade my daughter to go with her sister-in-law and young Sir Hubert to some quiet watering-place, and wait there till I am ready to start on our cruise. Perhaps you would join our party ? " " I shall be delighted, for I have not yet any fixed plans for the rambling season." " Good, then we will consider that affair settled," said Mr. Hollett, believing that he had done a kind- ness for Aunt Jane. " Here is my daughter." Lady Bevan entered leaning on Aunt Jane's arm. They were followed by Bert, who, as soon as they were in the room, bounded over to the colonel. The latter, laughing, took both his hands and swung him round to his side out of the way of the ladies. The mother, ,!!t IN THIS IIUMOK WOOED i 43 as she took her place on a couch, smiled at the boy's display of favoritism. "You have quite spoiled my son, Colonel Quin- ton," she said, in her musical but saddened voice. She did not, however, ippear to be much displeased by the spoiling effect of the colonel's Influence. " He has given us no rest since he learned that you were coming to-day to say good-bye." " Why do you want to go away } " asked Bert, clinging to his hero's hand, and looking up earnestly into his face. •' Why shouldn't you stay with us always 1 " For the first time since his return from Africa the colonel saw a faint tinge of color on the young widow's pale cheeks, whilst there was a momentary expression of annoyance in her eyes. All this Aunt Jane also observed, a::d her lips seemed to be compressed tightly, as if to prevent them from trembling — with surprise .'' With vexa- tion ? Who knows ? Mr. HoUett wished in his heart that the colonel could have remained with them, as he might do, if he would only act like a reasonable mortal, and ask Aunt Jane to marry him. Me had fixed in his own mind that the man intended to do so some time, and why on earth couldn't he doit at once when it would simplify :all the difficulties in the way of arranging for the diversion of his daughter's mind from the morbid melancholy which had taken possession of her. " ]My dear Bert, you must not be silly," said Lady Bevan ; ** Colone^ Ouinton has other friends to see 'besides us, and cannot spend all his time in amusing [you." \ \ I 44 WAS EVE J? IVOMAN m I i i vw Am Bert in his childish egotism could not quite see the force of this argument, but he felt that there was something slightly — very slightly, certainly — different in his mother's tone of chiding. So he held his tongue and tried to fathom the problem as to why his hero could not be content with the friends he had at Warburton. " Don't be afraid, general " — such was the rank to which the colonel had playfully promoted his young friend — " I will see you soon again, for you know I am not going far away, and a few weeks hence your grandfather has promised to take us all off on a trip in his yacht." The boy's eyes brightened instantly, and he darted to his grandfather's side. " Oh, grandpa, that is good of you ! And I shall learn the names of all the sails, and the masts, and the rigging, and — and everything about the yacht. And it will be such luck to have the colonel with us if any pirates should attack us ! " " Yes, it will be lucky to have the colonel with us if any pirates should attack us," commented Aunt Jane so softly that it was impossible to suspect any satire in her repetition of Bert's words, and yet there was a perceivable absence of the geniality which usually made her voice pleasing to the ear. She was glancing quietly from one face to another whilst speaking, and without appearing to do so she noted an uplifting of the colonel's e^'-ebrows, and for the second time a slight flush on the pale cheeks of her sister-f. -law, who looked approvingly at her father. M IN- THIS HUMOR WOOED? 45 he rank to his young knov I am lence your fif on a trip >nel with us nted Aunt uspect any d yet there ility which T. to another ) do so she ws, and for I cheeks of ^ly at her Aunt Jane was singularly silent that afternoon when the colonel had said " good-bye." She was busily engaged with some crewel work, and so intent upon it that she seldom raised her eyes from it. Lady Bevan had been reading ; but for some time the book had been lying on her lap and she was watching her companion with affectionate interest. "Are you sorry he is gone, Jane ? " she asked by- and-bye. " No," was the immediate answer, and the fact that it was unnecessary to name the person referred to showed that the thoughts of both ladies had been occupied with the same individual. '* No, I am not sorry he is gone. I am only sorry that he is to be with us so soon again." " You are not in earnest, Jane." " I am very much in earnest," and the fingers worked more swiftly than ever with the crewel needle. " I cannot yet think you are," was the smiling I rejoinder. " But you have always been too hard to please about men, dear. He is not wealthy, certainly, but that need not hinder him from turning out a good [husband." "Gracious heaven, Nell! Is this a time to talk ibout husbands } " exclaimed Aunt Jane, with a learer approach to indignant rage in voice and look than Lady Bevan had ever before known her to lisplay. Indeed, poor Lady Bevan was almost frightened )y this unprecedented outburst, and then, remem- bering her sorrow, she covered her eyes with both lands as she sobbed out the one word — " No." m !i:i 46 JV/fS EVER WO MAM When she uncovered her eyes again, Aunt Jane was gone. She had quietly left the room as if afraid to trust herself to further speech; but she cast a reproachful look upon the young widow before closing the door softly behind her. Squire Etheredge and his sporting comrades were to start early on the following morning for London on their way to the Derby, so they made a particularly jovial night of it, as it was the last they were to spend together at Chorlwood for the present. Colonel Quinton was, as usual, a pleasant com- panion, ready with repartee and story that delighted his audience, although a few of them would not have been relished by some companions even of the male sex. He was, however, always careful of the number of his cups, whilst he cleverly contrived to appear to do justice to the bottle as it passed him. He was, therefore, the only one in full possession of his wits when a special telegram, containing the latest accounts of the betting and scratches for the great race of the year, was brought for the squire. Whilst the latter was preparing to read this important document to his friends, the footman presented a letter to the colonel. " A man who rode up at the same time as the telegraph messenger brought this for you, sir." The colonel glanced at the superscription, and, not recognizing the penmanship, thrust it carelessly into his pocket. As he was preparing for bed when the first flush of morning was in the sky, he remembered the letter, and opened it with perfect indifference as to its contents. They were written in a bold, firm hand, IN THIS HUMOR WOO ED? 47 sant com- dclighted 1 not have f the male :he number D appear to He was, of his wits :st accounts race of the 5t the latter ament to his the colonel, time as the , sir. and as he read the words, standini^ close by the lamp, a hard, grim smile overspread his features. It did not make him look pretty. There was no date, no address, no signature on the letter, and this was what he read : "Your secret is known. You will be wise to abandon your purpose, for there is one standing in your way who will not let you pass." That was all. The first sentence caused him to frown and read the second eagerly, as if afraid of something; but it appeared to reassure him, and the grim smile returned. He struck a match and held the paper over the empty grate as if about to burn it. He changed his mind, refolded the letter in its envelope and placed it carefully in a pocket-book. *' Someone standing in my way who will not let me pass,'' he muttered mockingly, " then she, he, or it must clear out of my way." He turned in and slept soundly until he was aroused by a knock at the door in time to prepare for the early breakfast as had been arranged. I! 48 /r./.V EVER IVOMAl^ CHAPTER VI. UNPLEASANT SUGGESTIONS. By what miracle had this satisfactory change for the better been wrought in Lady Bevaii's condition ? All who had skiqw her during the first months of her widowhood, before she had gone away on that yacht- ing cruise with licr father and his friends, marveled at it. She herself marveled at it most of a!l. Only a brief year ago the future had seemed to her noth- ing but a weary journey which she had to make through utter darkness to the grave. Now there was sunshine again in her home at Warburton, and she could think calmly, however sadly, of her great loss. Was the happy change entirely due to the cruise and the pleasant months she had spent at her father's shooting-box in the Highlands ? She did not know. But papa had been very kind to her all the time ; Aunt Jane had been very kind to her ; Bert had been happy, and that made her happy ; and — yes, Colonel Quinton had been very kind, contributing much to the enjoyment of the cruise and the sojourn in the North, which seemed to have completely restored her to health and to peace of mind. She could not be sufficiently grateful to them all for having forced her out of herself — out of the mor- bid condition into which she had fallen, and for hav- Jqui '«*'A; Msoii .B\\1] »s r %W^' ^^^B LV Tins Hl'MOK WOOr.Dt 49 y in^S with wise severity, compelled lier to realize how much she had to live for. They liad taufjiit her that she had a sacred duty to perforin for her dead iius- band's sake in trying to mould the characttT of their boy as he would have wished it to be m(Hdded, in keepinhole of I- 'r.i i if ■ A V 13, V^ IN THIS III' MO R WOOED? 6t her sister-in-law's strange conduct, untl the young" widow felt the more displeased by it the more she thoucfht of it. She had treated Colonel Ouinton with no more special consideration than gratitude for his services to her Jiusband and respect for him as her husband's friend warranted, and she would not be driven to alter lier manner towards him in the least degree by the unreasonable inuendoes of a jealous woman. She was even disposed to treat him more kindly than hitherto in consequence of the suspicion which had been cast upon hjs friendly attentions. Was there not, moreover, the assurance direct from her husband, contained In the diary written by Jiis own hand, and repeated again and again, that Quinton was a man in whom she might trust as implicitly as she would in himself.^ That should be and was enough to justify her in disregarding Jane's strange request. She would /io^ do anything to interrupt his visits or to check his correspondence with Bert. He should see him and write to iiim as often as he pleased. In this state of mind she thoucrht of Ouinton as an injured man, and accordingly felt more sympathy for him than she had ever done before, whilst she felt vexed with her sister-in-law for trying to disparage him l^ecause he had disappointed her. Was he to blame > Had he been guilty of any deliberate wrong to Jane ? That could scarcely be, for if any definite understanding between them had been arrived at, one of them would certainly have made it known, as a matter of course, to the family. But tliere had not been the slightest hint of an F'li d III 1 ; i!! i'li lli'l I iii 61 ^K^/^ Z:Fi!:A' irOMAN engagement, and when bantered on the subject Jane had always strenuously repudiated the idea of such a thing. Still there was no doubt that he had won an im portant place in the woman's heart before his depart- ure for Africa, and the widow would not yet believe that this was one of those unhappy cases of mis- placed affection ; she still believed that Colonel Quinton was thinking of his dead friend's sister, and would yet ask her for the right to try to make her future happy. But the suspense must be hard to bear, and the widow's vexation disappeared as she thought of how much her poor sister must have suffered before she could have become jealous of her. She was sorry. All the same, Aunt Jane's endeavor to protect her from the wiles of the man she had learned to distrust and something more — to suspect of a terrible crime — had quite the opposite effect from the one intended. An incident which occurred on this same afternoon still further w^eakened her influence over Lady Bevan. Aunt Jane was walking in the grounds thinkin^^^ over the unhappy scene that had just taken place, Bert was with her, but she was paying no heed to him, and he, having a tennis racket and ball, was quite unconscious of any inattention as he made the ball fly about and then careered after it, shouting for joy at the effect of his strokes. One of these strokes sent the ball over the enclosure of the stable yard. He dropped the racket, and unpercelved ran into the yard to recover the ball. There stood his father's rx Tins nuMOR wooed > «3 favorite bay, named Pedro, saddled and bridled and loosely tethered \o a ring in the wall beside the stable door, waiting to carry Morris, the p^room, off to the villac^e post-office with letters. Morris liad ^;ono into the house to receive his despatches and mes- sages. Bert's eyes sparkled with glee. Here was a long- desired opportunity to have a ride on the big horse. Without a moment's consideration he unfastened the reins from the ring, led the animal close to the water- trough, on to which he climbed, and so got into the saddle. Ilis feet did not reach even to the straps of the itirrups ; but he would do without them, and his little knees took a firm grip of the saddle. He made a knot on the reins to shorten them, and then his preparations for a start were complete. Mis heart was beating fast with the excitement of this stolen joy, but there v/as in it just a shade of trepidation as he perceived how high he was perched above the ground, and how broad was the seat he had to bestride. He was, however, too proud of being mounted on the big horse to be daunted or to com- prehend half the peril of his adventure. The gate giving egress to the meadows was open, and he walked the horse quietly through it. This gate was at the opposite end of the yard from the one by which he had entered, so that Aunt Jane would not be able to see him until he should be far down towards the road which separated the meadows from the river. Me continued to go at a walking pace, gaining confidence as the distance between him and the stable increased. 1^ I ! I I !!i r/i 'I' ,'' «4 ;/'//. V EM-.R n O.U.I. V ! ■I I ;isll ''i! 'J he afternoon was calm and clear. What wind there was scarcely rurflcd the rich foliapje of the trees which Jined the riverside. The river was famous for its trout and likewise for its treacherous pools, asso- ciated with gloomy memories of fatal accidents and suicides. It was generally only deep enough to carry a small rowing boat; but after heavy rains it would swell up over the banks, and sometimes even cover the lower part of the meadows. Here it curved, and the road curved with it to the bridge which led directly into the village of Warburton. The arch of the old bridge was low, and its parapets just high enough to form convenient seats for the rustic gossips of a summer evening. I lere, whilst the sun was setting in gold and pi^rple and silver behind the red-tiled roofs of the village and the grey tower of the ancient church, groups of worthies would assemble. Ganfer liobbs, the sexton and beadle, would tell his stories of'' the nobility and gentry" ( i phrase picked out of some tradesman's bill, and lie was very fond of it) for whom he had performed the last services humanity requires. Here, too. Sheers, the Tory tailor, and Wacks, the Radical cobbler, would wrangle over the politics of the day, to the edification of the attentive rustics, who smoked their short pipes, nodding or shaking their heads very wisely as they approved or disapproved. Sometimes the Radical, sometimes the Tory, won the most applause, although, on the whole, it was impar- tially distributed, Each was always the victor in his own estimation, and their rustic hearers gave them ever}' reason for entertaining this satisfactory coinic- l|i! /.\" THIS lll'MOR WOOEDi i ' II '1 i i 'I * ' I il'i' i 66 JFAS EVEi: IVOMAN' to ride out alone on Pedro ? He is down on the road by the river." '' Lord 'a mercy ! " cried J\Torris, " and the brute ha'n't been out of the stable for two days." " Follow — he has gone towards the vli'age.** Morris rushed into the stable and threw a bridle over the head of another horse. He did not wait to saddle it. but leaped on to the bare back, and was off at full gallop in pursuit. " He is the daringest little worrit as ever was," the man muttered between his f:ceth. " He's been want- ing to get on the back of that horse ever since he set eyes on him ; and now he's got his way, he'll break his neck for sure." When half-way to the bridge, Bert was on the point of turning back, and pulled the rein accordingly. At the same moment there came the loud clatter of horse's hoofs behind. This sound and the jerk of the bit in his mouth started Pedro off with a bound that almost flung the little rider out of his seat ; but Bert clutched the saddle and the mane in time to save liim.^ elf without losing hold of the reins. Pedro had got the bit between his tc "th, and the louder the sounds behind him grew the faster bedashed forward, as if engaged in a race. After he had quite recovered his balance. Dcrt made a futile effort to check him by drawing the rein; but this seemed only to make the animal rusli on more furiously than before, and the clatter of hoofs behind acted like 2 spur, goading him to liis utmost speed. It seemed as if only an instant elapsed between the start and the arrival at the brid":e. Two men were jr'' /X THIS HUMOR WOOED / 67 on it, and a wagon ladt'ii with liay was approaching from the villac;c. The men had seen the runaway horse, and liad stopped the wagon in the hope of barring its progress. There was a loud shout of horror. . . . Pedro, coming suddenly upon the obstruction, had swerved and leaped over the parapet into the river. The descent was not great, but tlie river was deep at Lhis point, and a little fartlier down was one of the most dangerous pools in its \vhoIe course. Tlie men saw the horse stumble and roll on his back in the water, but Bert had been thrown off by the leap and was floating f.ist down towards the pool. None of the men seemed capable of moving to attempt his rescue, althouL;li the child was screaming for help. Fortup.ately help was near. A tall man, who had ridden \\\^ behind the wagon at the moment Pedro lot.k his mad leap, and flung himself from his horse, thrown oh his Co had liat, then, running alongside tb.c 1 i\er until he overtook the drowning child, dashed in and caught hold of him by the arm. There was another shout, this time one of reHef and admiration, as the men ran towards the spot to give what assistance tliey could, but they were dis- ma)ed to see that the peril was not over yet, for the man and boy were caught in the dangerous pool and Were being swirled round about. " Save him — for God's sake, save him," shouted Morris, who had now arrived and was up to his thighs in water, without being able to reach those he wanted to help. " Get a rope from the Wagon, some of you, quick." ( ; '* ai|| 68 HAS EVER WOMAN iii .-■. 1 ■ X , ■ I! :■ Hi Ikrt's rescuer, however, was a strong man, and a strong and expert swimmer; so before the rope was brought he had fought his way out of the pool and on to the river bank with the insensible child in his arms. " The doctor," said the man sharply, and Morris recognized Colonel Quinton. " You will find us at the inn." With long swift strides the colonel, carrying Bert face downward, made his way to the Black Bull, fol- lowed by a little crowd of people who had somehow heard the alarm and gathered with mysterious rapid- ity. One man led the colonel's horse, another car- ried liis coat and hat, and all — men and women — were admiring the brav? gentleman who had so valiantly saved the life of }'oung Sir Hubert. The inn marked the centre of the village. It was an old-fashioned wliitewashcd building, standing well back from the roadway ; but out on the edge of the path was a water-trough, and beside it a tall pole on the top of which swung the sign-board with a gor- geous black bull painted on it. The main entrance was marked by a rustic porch formed of four trunks of fir trees and a roof of tiles overgrown with lichen. The best room in the house was at the colonel's dis- posal, and everything he called f^' in the way of hot water, flannels, etc., was immediately produced by the bustling and sympathetic landlady herself. His efforts to restore animation were so far successful that by the time the village doctor — Ilarley — arrived Bert was showing signs of returning consciousness by spas- modic movements of the limbs, and then by a sudden call to them to " stop the horse." IN THIS iicMOR WOO HP? eg " He is all right," said the doctor cheerfully, "and as he is such a sturdy young fcllo /, I dare say he will soon get over the effects of the fright. Now, you, my dear sir, had better set about getting on some dry clothes. I will stay here till I sec him on his feet agam. Morris — who, feeling that he had some blame to bear for his young master's escapade, was standing breathless at the door — heard the doctor's happy assurance with intense relief. He was about to start off to inform Miss Bevan — he dare not think of facing his mistress — of all that happened when that lady ascended the staircase. She had followed him as soon as the pony-chaise could be got ready, and had already heard several versions of the accident and the rescue. As she reached the landnig, Colonel Quinton, in his still dripping clothes, came from the room. With- out heeding his condition she asked — subduing her agitation with a great effort : — " Where is he ? Is he safe ? " "I am glad to say, Miss Bevan, he is safe, and the doctor is with him," answered the colonel as he opened the door of the room for her. She passed in without another word to, or a look at, the man who had rendered such service to the house of Warburton. As Morris was now free, the colonel despatched him to Chorhvood for another suit uf clothes and with a message to his host, Etheredgc, that he would remain at the Blade Bull for the nio-ht. The expression on his face wa.-^ certainly not one ii ! '! a 70 JVAS EVER WO MAX of anxiety when he was alone. The stern gravity which all who had seen him hid noted had disap- peared, and there was a smile of triumph in its place. Good luck was on his side indeed, and he was not the man to fail to take advantage of it. Lad}^ Bcvan would certainly hear of what had occurred, and he was wise enough to trust to the exaggerations of rumcr to magnify his deed. The more Aunt Jn.ne tried to suppress or modify the account of the acci- dent, the more her sister-in-law would seek to learn for herself; and he could trust to Bert to make the most of it. He was aware of Jane Bevan's opposition to his project, and he knew the reason of it. He knew also that slie was a woman of clear intellect and steady purpose, and that they were fighting a duel without any open signs of animosity. But the odds were on his side, and every day improved them. Aunt Jane, too, was bitterly conscious of this fact. Although Bert was able to return home without any other consequences of his accident than a bruise on the forehead and a weakness which rendered it neces- sary to put him to bed for several days, it was, of course, impossible to keep the mother in ignorance of the cause of this illness, and how he had been saved from certain death. So, when the colonel called, the mother could not find words to express her gratitude. " I can never — never requite you for this service, Colonel Ouinton," she said, with trembling lips, and clasping his hand warmly. •'I lyvv Uic boy," lie answered quietly, and look- m THIS HUMOR WOOED ? 7« j'ng straight into her eyes, " and am glad to have been in time to pick him out of the water." The simple words and earnest manner made a deep impression upon her, and she felt more convinced than ever that Jane had greatly misjudged and wronged him. Aunt Jane, however, who had been intently study- ing the expression and manner of the two, was think- ing. This was her thought : — "She will make a fool of herself and the Warbur- ton family if the information promised me does not arrive in time to prevent her." i ' look- 72 WAS EVE K WOMAN .jlll •i I III :i ijH li .'I: Hi iiii :i: II CHAPTER VIII. I 1 ■ CURIOUS CON'JECTURES. The special information which Aunt Jane referred to was to come from Squire Etheredge's friend, Will Nethersole, That young gentleman had taken it into his head to make a journey to Africa, partly in search of diamonds, and chiefly in search of sport, Etheredgc in one of his visits to the manor having mentioned this project to IMiss Bevan, she instantly seized upon it as a possible way in which to satisfy her thought about her brother. *' Is Mr. Nethersole a very intimate friend of yours ? " she asked. Etheredge, who was a brisk young fellow not accustomed to or having occasion to question himself as to who were his intimate i-iends, was a little surprised. Then he said laughingly : "Well, I suppose he is. We meet often at the tlub, on the race-course, and at the hunt. When there is shooting going on Will is always with me whether invited or not, and I have always found him a jolly, good-natured fellow. You musn't think that I mean anything disrespectful to him by saying that he comes whether invited or not," Etheredge added hurriedly, with a regretful feeling of the inference which might be placed upon the phrase; "for you , i\ LV 77/ IS HUMOR WOOED 1 73 know he has ample means. But he likes company, which his father does not, and I do. So wc chum together very agreeably." •'When does he start?" " I believe in a couple of days." " And what is his first port ? " *' Zanzibar — but why are you so curious ? Is there anything he can do for you in that wild region ? " Ktheredge had become serious, for at that moment it flashed upon him that it was from Zanzibar Hubert Bevan had started on his fatal expedition. Perhaps tlic memory of the fact was brought more keenly home to him by the sudden pallor which appeared on the face of Aunt Jane and the tremor of her lips. " Will you come out to the lawn ? " she said with subdued emotion. " I feel that I can speak more freely in the open air, and I have a favor to ask from )-ou. "A favor to ask from me, Miss Bevan ?" and the happy-go-lucky sporting and hunting young squire blushed and stammered as he added, " Well, it will be hard lines if there is anything in my power that will not be done for you." At the same time he was thinking of the young widow on whom his mind was fixed, although he could not help admiring the grace and dignity of Aunt Jane. Sae took his arm and they passed out together. Instead of staying on the lawn she went straight on to the shrubbery, where the winding paths afforded opportunities for the exchange of confidences with- Qut; tlic chance of being overseen or overlicard. ^ ) ! I 1 I I ijiU r I'll I'll # ^ •i ■' ll in "'IM 1. il.' ■I .'I! i '\ 74 fr//.s- i^rz:i^ woman When she had led him into the middlr of the niaj.e where a rustic seat was placed for those who knew the way, she stopped. ** I do not care to sit down, Mr. Ethcredf^c ; but I have something to say to you of so much importance that I wished to be sure we were quite alone." Ethercdge bowed in a confused sort of way and wondered what on earth the woman was driving at. "Anything you say, Miss Bevan, T will accept in strict conf ''ence ; but I mu i c. ,< ss that you are rather puzzling me just now. Wi^ili hat you would — well, to use a common phrasv., let i^o cat out o' the bag at once." " I will," she said firmly, " but give me a moment." Then, whilst he stood by the rustic seat looking bewildercdly at her, she marched up and down several times with hands clasped .behind her. When she came up to him she was quite calm. "You must think my conduct strange," she said quietly ; " but please give me credit for having my wits about me. Now, you will be startled by what is to follow. How it has come upon me I cannot explain ; but the conviction is so strong that I have determined to follow out the thought to the end. I must bear your astonishment when I tell you that / do not believe my brother is dead.'' Etheredge certainly was astonished, and stood for a moment as if doubting that he had heard aright, or that Aunt Jane had lost her reason. "What!" he exclaimed, "when Quinton was with him to the last ? How can you doubt ? " " I do not know, and I have told you that I cannot explain at present. Is not that enough ? " waH i J .si oil .sta no\| • 4 IX 77/ IS III MOR J J ( >(}/ /> > 75 nia^e kn evv " Certainly, but it muddles mc," lu- said, bi)\/in:; awkwardly; "only 1 don't see where is the ra\( r I was to have the pleasure of granting }'')U." " It comes now," she said with the cool self-posses- sion of a woma* vvho had a fixed id'^a. " You under- stand that no ..o'd whicli passes between iis just now is to be re, cated uniil J say you may speak." "That, of c( ..ise," ne replied. " Thon your friend, M". "*'.ethersole, is going to Zanzibar and to make a journey through the country ; will you get him to inquire of the consul, the traders^ or anybody from wdiom information is likely to be obtained, if they know anything of my brother's party and what was their fate? " Etheredge was a very clear-headed man in the ring with his betting-book in his hand ; but he fairly lost his balance a*- this strange request. He felt that he would like to pull his hair in the hope of pulling out with it some ideas as to the meaning of his friend. " Upon my word, Miss Bevan, you are muddling me more and more, and putting me into rather an awkward position. You see, Quinton came home with a plain story of the v/hole affair, and Quinton is my friend, as he was Sir Hubert's. Now you are asking me — pardon, forgive me for using the phrase — you are asking me to find out if my fiiend has been telling the truth, and you know no fellow likes to do that sort of thing." She placed her hand on his arm and looked steadily into his face. " I asked you to do me a favor, Mr. Etheredge, and I h^ve told you wh^t it is, I would rathqr that ColQn<,d li \\ '111 ! I' 7<5 //'./.S lA'I-.R WO MAX Oui'.Uun (litl not l.now of it at present, but if you feci it ncccs.s;ir\' )(;u can tell him. Only ask Mr. Nether- solc to undertake this task." The fer\-or with which she spoke, the earnest expression of her face, made some deep impression i!p';n the mind of the youfiL;" squire. He took the hand wliich rested on his arm and pressed it to his h"ps. " I will undertake that Nethersole will do all you wish. Miss Bevan, although I cannot share }'our hope that he will bring us any better news than Ouinton has done." "Thank you heartily fur this kindness," she answered, " and, although I cannot give reasons to myself for the faith that is in me, it will at any rate be a satisfaction to me to do all that is in my power to find out the true stor)' of ni}' brother's fate." A bright idea Hashed upon I'Ltheredge. Mthough 1 do n(;t agree with you in thinking that we can haw- an}' further information about Sir Hubert than u c ha\e alread}' had, it occurs to me that )'ou might speak to Nethersole )'ourself. I will ride o\'er tt) their ])lace now and ask Iiis mother and him to come to luncheon to-morrow at Chorlwood. Vou know Mrs. Nethersole is a chatty, pleasant »f / woman, and I can occupy her attention w 'hilst } ou can have a talk with Nethersole if )'ou will arrange to come. " That will do excellently," said Aunt Jane, as she shook his hand friatefulh*. As Ktheredge rode on his way to Nethersole's place, he v/as saying tohim:?elf : " Upon my soul, that /X Tins nVMOR WOOED n IT |)( vail L;irl is a rjood sort. I wisli I had seen it sooner, for the widow seems determined to keep hr^rsclfout of the wa\'. ^\11 tlie same, it's a very ridictdous idea she has j^ot into her head, althouLih I must do all I can — and ivill do all 1 can to satisfy her — but I think I'll sa)' nothing- to Quinton ; he miglit feel hurt." So he did as Aunt Jane wished, and said nothing to the colonel about the projected inquiry into the incidents of the expedition. lie arranged with Mrs. Ncthersole to come over with her son to luncheon, and with a dexterity worthy of a diplomatist got the old lady into a corner of the drawing-room, leaving Aunt Jane free to explain her whole purpose to Will Ncthersole. " By Jove! " said Will, and then suddenly remem- bering that he was talking to a lady, added, ** Beg \<)ur pardon, but it so delighted me to think that there was something serious for me to do besides finding diamonds and killing wild beasts, that I could not help the exclamation. I shall do everything in my power to find out any particulars of the party, and will report to you as quickly as such things can be reported from such a country." Aunt Jane knew that this frank young fellow, although reckless of his own safety, was honest to the Core, and felt that she had found a special messenger I)rovidentially provided to help her in confirming or tlisproving the strange suspicion which liad arisen in her mind. If poor Sturgis had been wrong in the fears he entertained for his master's safety, there would surely be found some one who could give evi- dence of the reported conflict, and who could tell II i !., I. ? »« tFAS Ei7-I} iroM.IX % li ! !''! ii;i'i sonictliiiiL; <»f what had caused it. And yet she dreaded what she mi^ht discover. W'iiy ? Because she had loved the man and feared the consequences to liini. She did not put the (question to herself — "Am I suspicious because he has turned from me to think of another ? " So far her only thoULjht was, " 1 owe it to Bert to fnid oit how his father has fallen." But the poor heart was wrun<;- with anguish at the thought that she mii;ht fnul the suspicion wiiich Sturgis' words luid created was true. ** Let him be innocent," she said to herself, *' and 1 will be content. But if he is guilty .... God knows what 1 shall do." With that she clenched her lips and said she must go liome. Nethersole accompanied her to the pony chaise which liad been brought round to the door, and as she took her seat he spoke with more earnest- ness than was his custom : " Depend upon it you will have early news, for 1 have a lot of friends out there who will help me." She leant over the side of the carriage and answered quietly : " jVIr. Nethersole, I trust to \'ou to clear un the very serious doubt which has arisen in my mind." Poor heart! IIow it ached! She was pursuing the man who had been dear to her to what might prove to be his ruin. II 1L /A^ THIS riVMOR WOOED f 7^ CHAPTER IX. THE STRANGER OX THE RIVER RANK. Colonel Quinton, finding quarters at the inn so comfortable, and feeling that his host at Chorhvood had recently been a little cool towards him, deter- mined to remain where the accident had placed him. So he very courteously informed his friend Hthcreclge that he had caught a bad cold owing to the river incident, and, as he did not like to bore his friends with an invalid, lie had decided to remain where he was for a few days. In arriving at this decision he was considerably influenced by the fact that the village inn was much nearer to the manor than was Chorhvood. He was, however, careful not to make his visits so frequent as to run the risk of their becoming unwelcome or irk- some. To make his constant attendance at the manor less noticeable, he even went off to London for a week. But the fact that Colonel Quinton was a favorite with the young widow was becoming talked about. Some gossips wen* so far as to say, witli expressive nods, that Lady Ijcvan would soon change her name in gratitude for the rescue of her son. The latter young personage had quite recovered from his dipping and his fright, and was as brisk as ever. His present hobby was fishing ; but he was te" It i' ill! I I i jli. m , f 1 1 ■'I 80 IFAS ElER WOMAN never permitted to go out with his rod except under the guardianship of his tutor, Mr. Littleton, or of Morris. Mr. John Littleton was the curate of Warburton, and was very glad to increase his scanty stipend by attending to the mental requirements of Bert. He was, however, a young man fond of trans- lating Horace into modern verse, and when attend- ing upon his pupil out of doors he was too apt to become so absorbed in his book, that he only looked up OvCcisionally to see what the boy was doing. The two were walking up the riverside slowly, the tutor readinr,, and Bert casting his fly with some skill. Mr. Littleton had fallen behind to make a note of a passage for which he had found what he thought a good translation, when Bert's path was stopped by a gentlcma'i who was sitting on the bank, and at the same moment, making a cast, his fly caught in the branch, of a tree. The gentleman, seeing the boy's trouble, rose quietly and succeeded in releasing the line, whilst lie smiled tenderly and yet somewhat vacantly at the boy's expressions of thanks. Then he «at down again on the bank and aimlessly plucked some blades of grass, which he cast into the river, and watched with apparent interest as they floated down. He was a tall man with bushy liair, whiskers and moustache, all perfectly white. The eyes were sunken, and the cheeks were pinched, and marked with deep lines, as if from the effect of severe illness. Yet there w'as an expression of gentleness and kindliness on the face which would have been attractive to any one. But in addition to this, there was a curiously troubled look, as if he had lost something and was appealing for help to find it. jx I'liis iii'MOK woor.n? 8i pt under )n, or of urate of is scanty ments of of trans- 1 attend- )o apt to y looked 3\vly, the ith some vc a note thouglit )pped by wA at the it in the :he boy's ising the omewhat Then he phicked iver, and sd down, kers and [} sunken, I'ith deep ^^et there ;ss on the any one^ troubled ppealing "Will you come and talk to me a little, niy lad ' I am only a lad like you, although you may think- me big; and I used to go a-fishing. . . . Now that's very strange — it was in a place just like this ! He seemed puzzled and gazed around him, seeking out something he could not find. They were under a row of old willows, which cast a deep shadow on the path, but the sun was shining so brightly on the water that it made a reflection on their faces as from a mirror. Bert siared at the stranger, but with no sense of fear. Restin' the butt of his rod on the ground, he leaned upon it, and with a frank, childish smile — half amused, half puzzled by the stranger's continuous throwing of blades of grass into the river — answered : "Yes, I will talk to you, sir, if you like ; for I feel as if I had seen you somewhere, though I can't remember where." The stranger stopped pulling the grass, and looked meditatively into the boy's face. " Now iliafs very strange, too, for I fancy I've seen you before ; but it must have been long ago when I was a baby. Give me your hand and tell me what is your name." " Bert," was the prompt answer, as the boy's hand was placed in the stranger's. " What is yours ? " The man looked vaguely at the boy, at the water, at the trees, but still could not find that something he was seeking for. ** Now, that's very strange, too," he said, softly ; " I don't know my name. 1 lost it som nvhere, and have never been able to find it a^ain." ■ S2 WAS EVER WOMAN 111 \\\\ n •'I V *' Lost your name ! " exclaimed Bert, feeling as if he had got into the wonderland of fairy tales. " That's funny ! " '* No, not funny. It's very sad. 1 have been iiunting for it ever so many years, and have not got it back yet. But I am waiting for a friend, and when he comes perhaps lie will be able to tell you something. But you have your name, and you taust try to keep it." He patted the boy's hand, and again began to pluck the grass. At this point Mr. Littleton was approaching in earnest conversation with a gentleman who had over- taken him. The gentleman was of small stature and active movement. Dre-^jed in a smart reefer si't and gaiters, and wearing a billycock hat, no one would have recognized in him Dr. Harold Somerville^ the famous specialist in nervous diseases. It was a hobby of his to discard all the usual professional costumes, and consequently he was generally taken by strangers for a gentleman at ease who had nothing to do, and did not want to have anything to do, whilst in reality he was one* of the most earnest students of human nature of the present day, and although still young, had won for himself all the honors which universities and the learned societies could bestow. He had a place at Althorp-by-Wensum, about ten miles distant from Warburton, where he gave his attention to about a dozen patients placed under his care. He could have quadrupled that number had he chosen to do so ; but he was too much devoted to the study of individuid idiosyncrasies to turn his estab- ment into mere money -getting business. /.\' TI//S i/rMOK u'ooi:d? 83 " It is one of the most peculiar cases I have ever come across," he was saying to Littleton, who had been with him at Cambridge during his last year there. " It was on our voyage from Cape Town r we picked him up in mid-ocean, sitting in an open boat, smiling at the corpse of a man who was lying in the bottom of it. When we got him safely on board, the captain tried to learn where he had come from, and what ship had been wrecked. But he could tell us nothing except that he was a litde lad and liad lost his wa\'." " Had he nothing upon his person by which you could identify him " inquired the curate, interested. " Nothing whatever — not a scrap of writing or a book of any kind. We concluded that in the ship- wreck he had scrambled or had been carried out in a hurry into the small boat without anything to give a clue to his identity." " Was there nothing to indicate what ship he was wrecked from ? ' ' "Yes. The small boat was marked 'Livingstone,' and as the man could give no name of his own, we called him by that name. I became more and more interested in the case every day, and decided to bring him home with me, as we had no means of dis- covering any friends of his own. Of course I have a selfish reason for this kindness on my part, and would like to get a clear understanding of liis condi- tion. He has absolutely lost all memory of his past life. We have certainly a number of instances of this lapse of memory, but I want to restore it." "Then you have some theory as to the cause of the lapse ? " r t; , ,: » t Jilifi ll^ I 'I'! hil I i.ii 84 j[:/.s' Ar/'A' iroMAX " Yes. There are signs of a wound on the head, and he has evidently passed tlirough some severe iUness. You would think by looking at his white hair that he is an old man, but I am convinced that lie is not. The wound and the illness are the causes of his white liair. If I could only discover his friends T should be better able to help him by learning the history of the case." *' Are you not a little frightened at the responsi- bility you have undertaken ? " inquired the curate, admiring the courage and humanity of his friend. "What should I be afraid of?" exclaimed Dr. Somerville, laughing; "I am doing everything that I can to put him right, and lie Iiimself is as gentle and lovable a creature as it was ever my lot to come across, sane or insane. Look there, now, I told him to wait for me under these willows, and .*e has not moved from the spot." " I see he has struck up an acquaintanceship witli my pupil, young Sir Hubert." " That he would be sure to do; for one of the best signs of his case in my opinion is that he is very fond of children. His most marked peculiarity is that he is constantly saying — 'Now, that is very strange; seems as if I had seen that place before.* From this phrase 1 ha\e hope of his recovery, anci, what is most singular, it strikes me that he belongs to some part of our count}'. I ha\'e purposely taken him about with me in the hope that someone might recognize him. .So far wi^V' ut success. I have every hope, however, that the cxpcii'Viont I am trying will have a good result, and ifh^s pv-mo'-y should rome back I shall be IX mis HUMOR WOOED ? good .is happy as a miser would be if he had found another Koh-i-noor." •' '^^ou are doing good work," said IMr. Littleton, " and I earnestly hope it will succeed." " Thanks ; and now I must say good-bye. as there c'omes the gig. I told my man to brini^- it along to tl'ic willows at this hour. I5ut first I must introduce vou to my friend, Livingstone. I am sure he will interest you." They went down the bank to the place were Ik-rt and Mr. Livingstone were busy prattling. Dr. Somerville laid his hand gently on the shoulder of his patient, who had been unconscious of the approach of an\'one. "This is a friend of mine," he said, "and 1 want to Introduce you to him, Mr. Livingstone." Mr. Livingstone rose and bowed as lie said, with an air of dignity, which was quite different from all hi.s iranner in conversing with Bert : "I am pleased to make )o;n" acquaintance, sir. But Livingstone is only the label which my good friends have put upon me until I can find niv own name, which I have lost somewhere." The simple smile with which i)}]^ dfoW annouiice- ir.ent was accompanied was most \rAihiiih, " We will find it for you soon," said the tUfdic with a gentle cheerfulness, whilst he felt sad at h( dfi iiy see a man who evidently had been gifted wilh s//lii« intellect brought down lo this pitiful state of imbeci- lity. " Yes, yes, we will find it soon," said Mr,, Living- stone with a vacant smile as he patted Bert's shoulder. I i' 4 i.:':i I I i;i in ,1 I ! '!• i III ■ 'I 86 IVAS EVER WOMAN Then the doctor and his patient got into the gig which was waiting and drove off to Althorp-by- Wensum, whilst Mr. Littleton and Bert returned through the meadows to the manor. The boy's conversation with his mother that after- noon was entirely about the strange gentleman he had met who had told him that he had lost his name. When Colonel Quinton returned to W.irburton he found Bert full of chatter about the strange old man he had met sitting on the bank of the river, and who was like the pictures of Father Time in the Christmas books. "Where did become from?" asked the colonel, amused by the boy's interest in the stranger. "I don't know, but the gentleman who was talking to Mr. Littleton told him that he liad been picked up in a boat at sea, and tliat nobody knew anything about him, and he doesn't know anything about him- self." "Poor man. That is a very sad case." *' He seemed to be quite pleased, and he said he had known me somewhere, and I feel sure that I have seen him somewhere." At this statement Colonel Quinton looked sharply at the boy, as if startled. Then a smile came over his face as if he dismissed a ridiculous fancy. " I think it must have been your remembrance of the picture of Father Christmas tliat made you imagine you had seen the gentleman before." But although he dismissed the subject so lightly, Quinton determined upon asking Littleton for some further information about the stranger. r 4- ^o the gig thorp-by- returned hat after- an he had name. burton he old ma. I and who Christmas ^ colonel, ■r. IS talking picked up anything )out him- said he •e that I 1 sharply imc over ance of ide you lightly, for some y.\' TlJlii HUMOR WOOED i 87 I 1-- CHAPTER X. , "TIIK CHANCE HAS COME." QUIXTON could not explain to himself why he had become curious about the aged imbecile, and after licarincf from the tutor the account Dr. Somerville had given him of h'*'^' patient, he merely made a note of the doctor's address, deciding that some day he Avould, perhaps, ride over there. He had in the meanwhile, however, to guard himself against Aunt Jane's opposition, and to carry out his siege of the widow in as delicate a way as possible. Standing at the door of the inn, talking about his iiorse to a little wizen-faced old man, who was the ostler, he saw Aunt Jane with Bert drive by in a car- riage, and divined from the time of day that she was off on a visiting round. She recognized him with a cold bend of the head; but Bert shouted his hearty greeting, and waved his hand. "The chance has come for another move in the game," the colonel said, with a satisfied smile. '* I will walk over." He started at once, in a hopeful mood ; but he would not have been so well pleased had he known that Aunt Jane's destination was again Chorhvood, and the purpose on which she was bent. He made 'r. ^s ilUS l.VEK WOMAN 1 'I, w \ • I m his way by the river and the meadows, and entered the grounds of the manor. At some little distance from the house there was a pretty pac^oda-shaped bower, whicii, he was aware, was a favorite resort of Lady Bevan on a warm summer afternoon like the present, and he had some hope that he might find iier there now. He had his wish. She was seated inside, shaded from the sun, and reading. She had not observed his approach, and he halted, gazing at her admiringly through one of the windows framed with roses. It was a pretty frame for a pretty picture, and even a less interested person than Colonel Ouinton would have admired the grace of the reader. She was about to turn over a page, and at the same time raising her head, saw the colonel. Siv.. - iw, too, the expression of his face, and started slightly. " Forgive me, Lady Bevan, for not making my presence knowMi at once. I walked over, and com- ing through the grour 1s saw you here. I hope I am not intruding upon yoi-.r studies." "They are not very serious studies," she answered, with a smile, having recovered her self-possession. " It is only a fairy tale I am reading for Bert's benefit. He likes me to tell them to him rather than to read them." " He is a fortunate boy in every respect, and most of all in having such a mother." "You are in one of your complimentary moods to- day, colonel. He would not have been very for- tunate when he was carried over the bridge, had you not been at hand to save him." /X THIS IIVMOR WOOFP^ 89 ''1 would give my life for licrt," was tlic earnest response, and then he added in a low voice, as if speaking to himself, "for your sake." She colored at this, and rejoined, with a little restraint in her manner : — "Bert is very devoted to you, certainl}'." " I know it ; and lie has been the best companion 1 have had for a longtime. lie is always bright and cheerful, and speaks with a manliness much in advance of liis years. Will you let me say something that I liave wanted to say for a long time? It may offend ^•(tu. " "I do not think you can say anything that should offend me," she said, feeling a little nervous, for Aunt Jake's words and warning flashed upon her. " I will trust to your forgiveness if it does. Then I wish " lie hesitated, looked earnestly in her face, and continued steadily, with much softness in his tone — "Then I wish that I might hope one day to hold a nearer relationship to Bert than that of a friend. You are not offended ? " he added, quickly. " No," she answered slowly, making a feeble effort to seem not quite to understand him ; " but I do not see how you are to hold a nearer relationship unless there is something,, as I have suspected, between you and Miss Bevan." He shook liis head as he leaned forward on the ledge of the rose-framed window, so that if he reached out his arm he could touch her hand as it rested on the book. " I mean a nearer relationship even than Miss Bevan could give me." 90 It'.tS EVER WOMAN m i II I . \ 'i! rj, : |: %•■ ilii She was silent, feeling that she could no longer pretend to misunderstand him, and was experiencing too much emotion, although not surprise, to be able to speak immediately. He took advantage of this to proceed to press his suit. " You know what his father and 1 were to each other for}'ears; you know by what mi^^fortune we were parted. I have often wished that I had lain there and lie had come back instead of me. I believe that if you could hear him now lie would say that it pleased him to think that his old friend had become the rVlitful guardian of his son — through you." She was still silent, for she was thinking that there was some truth in v.hat lie said, and that the dead husband \\t)uld have pointed to his devoted friend as the man for her to choose if she married again at all. But she still shrank from the bare idea of such a pos- sibility, and almost shuddered at it. He augured well from her silence, and went on agam. " You know, dear Lady Bevan, that a man in middle life is not a passionate wooer, but he is an earnest one, and the feelings which he forms then endure to the end. I do not ask you to decide now- but do not let )'our answer be an irrevocable *No.' " He touched her hand gently ; the touch roused her, and she rose slowly to her feet. She spoke with sad calmness and dignity : " You have earned the right, Colonel Ouinton, to speak of this by the services you rendered to Sir Hubert, and by saving the life of my child at the risk M\\ !-i /.\* THIS liL'MOR WOOED i 9t of your own. You have earned my deepest gratitude and lite-long friendship; but I can give you no more, and I must beg of you to be content." lie bowed low and spoke bravely : " In giving nie so much you have honored me and made mc happy : when I found how great Hert's affection for mc had become I did dare hope for more." She was tt)uched by the reference to Hert, but replied with firmness, yet in a kindly tone: " I am sorry for your disappointment, Colonel Ouinton, but nothing can induce mc to change my rjiind. I will never marry again. Ikit this 1 may say — that, had it been possible for me to change, all that you have done for us would liave prevented you from being the last in my thoughts." " I am indeed grateful for that assurance, and will be well content with it — for the present," he said respectful!}'. " It must be for always," she said resolutely, as taking up her book she came out from the pagoda, evidently with the intention of going indoors. '' Permit me to conduct you to the house." Taking the book from her hand he offered his arm, and they passed together across the lawn still good friends. The colonel was thinking to himself that he had scored well '\\\ this first open attack. :i' I I , ' X ^>, IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) ^ .*'?^ 4^ 1.0 I.I 1.25 ■ 30 "^^ IH^B 2.0 Photographic Sciences Corporation 33 WIST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14S80 (716) 873-4503 '4^ A lot to his feet in appaicnt agitation, and th owing aside all pretense of not now recognizing the strange creature before him. " What brought you to England ? " " I wanted to see the country again, and to see you, sir. " And what arc you doing now ?" *' Going about the country selling the magic Afri- can oil," answered l^oney. as he pointed proudly towards the other side of the street ; *' that is my wagon." •' How did you find me, and how did you learn my name ? " " I saw you by chance to-day standing with a little boy, and the landlord told me your name." " What is it you want, now that you haVc by chance found me ? " Boney grinned, and waggled his head as if he could not believe that the colonel did not compre- hend what he wanted. " A little more help, sir, to do bigger trade so that I may grow rich. That is all." The colonel paced the room restlessly for several minutes, then he halted, and his tall figure seemed to tower over the squat figure of the other. " Suppose I tell you that I cannot give you any further help } " he asked sternly. ** I will tell my little story to somebody else, and that would not please you," was the answer, with a grin which parted the thick lips wider than usual, and displayed the whole length of the fangs. The colonel looked as if he felt inclined to take the little man by the throat and choke him on the spot^ i' i>l H'.IS I.VLR IIOA/.LV ill Hi> .. However, hi* passion went no further tlian to impart a sterner tone to his voice. " I suppose you think I am a rich man. You arc mistaken — I am not so. But, say, how niuch will you take to go back to Zanzibar at once ? " •' I do not know ; a {^reat deal. I like your country," answered lioney, with a cunninjj and triumphant twinkle in lii-j little eyes. "I would rather make bigger trade here." " Just so," said the colonel, with sudden coolness, 'and I know the reason. You ^are not go back to your own country." The triumphant twinkle disappeared from the little man's eyes and he seemed to become aware that he had not got everything in his own hands ; but he made an effort to brazen it out, '• Ha ! ha ! That is very good — very good. Why dare I not go back to my country ^ " " For the same reason which caused you to fly from it," answered the colonel, who saw that his chance shot had struck home, and took full ad van- age of it, " you don't want to die. Well, it is no business of mine. Come to me to-morrow at eleven and I will see what further help I can give you and on what conditions. Will that do } " 'Yes, sir, that will do till to-morrow. Good-day, • >» sir. And the somewhat crest-fallen Kuruboni departed ; but he regained his spirits as soon as he had re- mounted his wagonette. The colonel sat down as if exhausted, and there was deep gloom on his fa(pe. His thoughts appeared N Tins HUM OK nOOEDf I03 to be as gloomy as his expression, for his brows were knit and one hand was firmly clenched as if he were preparing to strike a blow. " l^y what infernal chance has that fellow turned up here ? " he muttered to himself. " If the scoundrel should discover who the people are " He did not finish the sentence. if r n III i ' li ' '>-■'-■■ ' . • ■ ■ , .- ■^- ■ , ■ 1; 104 > ■ H^AS EVER WOMAN ' f r. • i s t " ■ • v # 1 CHAPTER XII. FENCING. \ f i { ;■ ij iii •I ■ , Both Lady Bevan and her sister-in-law were pain- fully conscious that an estrangement was growing up between then , and that it was becoming more and more marked every day. Both were filled with dread at the thought of what this condition of affairs might lead to, for they loved each other. Yet neither spoke the kindly word or asked the natural question which they would have asked in other days — " Why is this ? What is wrong between us? "An explanation would have followed, and all would have been well. These were unhappy days for them. In their hearts they desired reconciliation and complete resto- ration of the confidence which had existed between them until no"' But Lady Bevan was not prepared to accept the conditions which she believed Aunt )-j\v:'. would insist upon — namely, the removal of Colonel Quinton's name from the list of visitors to Vi\i, manor, and the interdiction of any intercourse between him and Bert in the future. Aunt Jane, on her side, could not bring herself to withdraw these conditions. She believed that the young widow was, without meaning it, of course, hopelessly compromising the dignity of the Warburton •I IN THIS HUMOR WOOED i 105 family as well as herself by permitting the colonel to come and go as freely as it had become his custom to do. So the days passed ; the word of : ^conciliation was not spoken, and they drew further and further apart whilst still as fond of each other as ever. When the weather was fine on Sunday mornings the two ladies of the manor, accompanied by Bert, gene- rally walked to church. Now here was a glorious morning on the first Sunday of August, when the heat of the sun's rays was tempered by a cool breeze, and everything looked so bright and fresh that the laziest recluse would have been tempted to run out into the fields. And yet Aunt Jane announced that she was not going to church. So Lady Bevan and Bert started off by themselves. By going across the meadows the distance to the village was little more than a mile, thus making it a short and pleasant walk. The bells had begun to ring before the widow and her son had reached the bridge, which Bert had such good reason to remember for the rest of his life, and had not ceased ringing when they took their places in the large high-backed family pew. Wild as Bert v/as the church inspired him with a certain awe, so that he behaved with a degree of decorum, although he occasionally fidgeted a little during the service and wished himself out in the fields The good old vicar was not a brilliant preacher, but he was beloved by his congregation and did not give them too long sermons. He would have been a good deal surprised and pleaded had he known that on this I', i" lo6 I : ,1 »! I ! fr^^ z:ri^/' WOMAN- morning he had attracted to his church a gentleman who was anything but a regular attendant at places of worship, but he would have been equally disappointed if he had discovered that it was not his eloijuence which induced Colonel Quinton to join the congrega- tion. From his window at the inn he had caught sight of Lady Bevan passing. He immediately changed his grey coat for a black one and followed, hoping to have an invitation to take a place in the Warburton pew. But he was too late, for Lady Bevan was already seated when he reached the door of the church. He contented himself by taking a seat in a pew near the door, although the verger, out of politeness to a stranger, offered to conduct him to one nearer the pulpit. The service over, the congregation slowly passed out to the strains of the organ. Quinton was amongst the first to.be out, and took his stand on the path half-way towards the gate, whilst the good people gathered in groups to exchange the news and gossip of the week. Presently he saw the vicar and his wife conversing with Lady Bevan. Then she came slowly down the path, and the people saluted her respectfully as she passed. Bert was the first to see the colonel, and would have run to him at once but that his mother was holding him by the hnnd. She was a little surprised to see him there, but greeted him with her usual courtesy. Utterly unconscious of what construction might be placed upon her conduct, she gave him pqrmi^sipn tp escort her home, and thev walked side IN THIS HUMOR WOOED ? 107 by side out of the church-yard and through the village. Everybody's eyes followed them, and smiles and nods and knowing looks were exchanged by the observers. " Ah ! " observed Sheers, the tailor, " I told you we'd be hearin' of changes at the manor. It ain't for nothin' he's been hangin' about here so long." " Dear, dear," muttered old Gaffer Hobbs, shaking his head and leaning heavily on his staff; "who'd 'a thought it ? And so soon arter we'd beared the last o' poor Sir Hubert. Well, well, wimen is wimen all the world over." Such were the comments the villagers passed upon Lady Bevan because, having met a friend, she had allowed him to accompany her home. There are no greater speculative matchmakers than rustics. They settle the love affairs of the squire's daughters and sons long before the persons most concerned have considered the matter. As they walked along by the riverside Lady Bevan observed that the colonel looked extremely depressed, and that he did not maintain conversation in his usual manner. She felt sincere pity for him, fancying that she knew the cause of his depression. " I am glad to have had this opportunity of seeing you again, Lady Bevan," he said, and there was a note of sadness in his voice, " for if I carry out the plan which has occurred to me I shall not have many more opportunities of seeing you." " Why so ? " " Because I have serious thoughts of g^oing be^ck to Africa/' he answered gloomily. , I \i \ ! ! I hi ! r ! io8 fVAS EVER WOMAiW "To Africa I" She shuddered at the mention of that continent, which had been so direful to her. * oftce^* she said, as she turned to the window; and this time there was a note of bitterness in the voice which she instantly subdued. With a careless manner she went on : "But don't you think, Colonel Quinton, that it is rather ridiculous of us both to be discussing a subject which neither of us appears to understand ? You may be sure that when I have discovered in what you have offended me I will let you know." The colonel s position at that moment was certainly an unpleasant one. Her face was turned from him, but he could see by the profile that the expression was one of bitterness towards him. He could not make it out, and was obliged to confess himself utterly foiled by a woman. This much he had discovered, that the offence was one of no light nature, and memory told him that she had cause to be indignant with him. All the same, he repudiated the idea. Bowing, he said : " I have not deserved this ; but I accept it as the punishment for my unknown crime." She turned quickly with flushed face and flashing eyes ; but before she could speak Lady Bevan and Bert entered. : It : I H Ml m ii i 113 IVAS EVER IVOMAN CHAPTER XIII. THE PRIZE OF THE COUNTY. Aunt Jane drew a long breath of relief as if she were glad of the interruption — it had saved her from say- ing something, the utterance of which she knew would have caused her afterwards vexation and regret. " You are just in time to prevent a quarrel between Colonel Quinton and me," she said with a forced laugh. " We got into a hot dispute over the merits of our Sambo and another St. 1 ernard he has seen recently. You know Sambo was my brother's constant companion, and he declared him to be the finest animal of the kind in the world. You cannot, there- fore, blame me, colonel, forgiving some preference to my brother's opinion and to the dog that remembers his master so well ihat he has never been happy since he missed him." She laughed again, not hysterically but mirthfully, as if she were enjoying some joke that was only perceived by herself. " I, of course, make all due allowance for your pre- possession, Miss Bevan," rejoined the colonel, bowing and fully comprehending that she had invented this little fiction to account for the flushed cheeks at which her sister-in-law was gazing with ill-disguised surprise. " Oh, but you must have another look at him and confess that you have misjudged him." /V THIS HUMOR WOOF.D ? «»3 She passed out to the terrace and blew a dog whistle which hung at her girdle. The colonel followed, willing to humor her, and very glad to learn in this way that their conversation was not to be repeated to Lady Bevan. She repeated the whistle, and in response there was a loud deep-voiced bay from the direction of the stables. Immediately afterwards there came b(^und- ing along the terrace a huge,, perfectly black St. Bernard, who capered and caracoled arc uid Aunt Jane as if wild with delight at being summoned. At a motion of her hand he sat down, continuing to wag his tail whilst he looked up with his great affectionate eyes into her face as if asking her further commands. " Now, Colonel Quinton, will you not admit that he is a splendid creature, and that you have never seen his equal ? " " He certainly is so. Come, Sambo, you and I must become better acquainted than we were former- ly." He advanced and patted the dog's head. Sambo's tail instantly ceased wagging ; he looked up, sniffed at the hand, and then slunk quietly away until he got behind Aunt Jane, where he stationed himself with rather a displeased expression on his kindly face. " He docs not like to be touched by strangers,*' explained Aunt Jane apologetically, and with an inexplicable tremor in her voice. At this juncture Bert, who had been standing with his mother at the open window through which the others had passed, burst out and flung his arms round Sambo's neck, whereupon his tail began to wag again as the child caressed him. ;|| ! I A' 114 WAS EVER jrOMAX ! i The colonel was evidently more displeased than the circumstance seemed to warrant by the dog's very marked disapproval of him. However, he said care- lessly : •• I suppose ho resents my not having paid sufficient attention to him two or three years ago." The awkwardness of the position was relieved by the sounding of the gong for luncheon. Sambo was ordered back to his kennel, and although he obeyed, it was reluctantly, for he had been expecting to have at least a run with the pony-carriage. While at table Lady Bevan was perplexed and astonished by Aunt Jane. She talked and laughed as if she had suddenly regained her old blithesome humor. She certainly had not for many days appeared so like the happy, light-hearted creature she had been before their affliction ; and yet there was an under- current — to be felt but not described — which sug- gested that the mirth was not a natural outcome, but the result of a desperate effort to subdue and control some passion or pain which was distracting her mind. The colonel was not so much at ease as he tried to appear; and when he endeavored to tell a story for the amusement of Bert (who had for some time past always had his place at luncheon), he told it so flatly that the boy did not laugh as usual. Lady Bevan was heartily glad when they rose from table and the guest departed. Aunt Jane immediately retired to her own room, asking not to be disturbed. All the mirthfulness had disappeared as if a maik had dropped from her face. She looked pale and tired, like one who has undergone some great mental strain. i.y THIS iii'MOR wooi.m "5 Could Lady Bevan have looked into her room she ivould have seen Aunt Jane lying on the bed, with face buried in the pillow, and sobbing. A paroxysm of this kind was not in her way, and when it did come it was consequently the more severe. That night when Bert was in his bed, carefully tucked in by Harris, his mother's maid, he lay a long time awake thinking about his hero, who had not appeared to him so brilliant as usual, and wondering if he could be sick. The boy now slept in what had been his father's dressing-room, so that his mother might have him near her. The door communicat...g with his mother's room was always left open, so that he could hear Harris moving softly about arranging things for the night. He heard the bedroom door open and someone say to Harris : *• Is he sleeping, Mary ? " " I think so," was the answer. " He has been quiet for a long time now." " Then I just slipped in to ask you, how do you like our new master?" (Bert now recognized the voice as that of Franks, one of the housemaids.) " Our new master, Alice. What do you mean ? " " Why the colonel, of course," was the pert whisper, " It seems to be all settled atween 'em." " How can you know that } " a little ruffled at the idea of such an important affair being known to the " lower " servants before she had heard anything of it. Harris being the daughter of the butler, and her ladyship's maid, considered herself a somewhat su perior person. "How do I know? Well, I have eyes and ears vS\ I I I I I I XI(} //•./.S AfV.A' iroM.tx and can use *cin. Lor! everybody's a talkin* .bout it, and I aint sure if the day isn't fixed, an' Mkss" (this was Aunt Jane's designation in the servants* hall) " is in a reg'lar fury about it." "I don't believe it." " Helicve it or not, it's true. \cd Saunders told me he saw them at the piggody" (that was her way of saying pagoda), *' a-talkin' as sweet as sweet could be for an hour at a stretch. What do you think that looks like } And then here he comes a marchin* 'omc with her from church, and sta}'s to lunch, and goes on just as if it was his own 'ouse already." •* I think she is too fond of }'oung Sir Hubert to marry anybody," persisted the obstinate Harris. "Ah, poor dear young Sir Hubert!" murmured Franks .sympathetically. " It was him I was a-think- ui' of when I come in to speak to you. We've all seen how my gentleman goes on with him just now; but take my word for it, as soon as he's got the mother he'll soon pack him off to board in* school or get him out of the way somehow." Alice was affected by this terrible pro.spect, and so was Bert, lying awake in the next room, although the only part of the whispered conversation he under- stood was that for some reason he was to be sent aA^ay from Warburton. That idea was enough to frighten antl bewilder him. " Well," said Harris, " whether it's true or not you'd better hold your tongue about it or you will soon have to look for another place." ** That'll be easy enough to find," sniffed Franks. '* Maybe, but not such an easy and comfortable place." /.\' THIS III'MOR WOOEIU »«; L^d Franks, omfortable "And as for talkin' alooiit it — you ^o nUo the village and sec if it isn't on every man and woman's tonjiuc there How s ever I only came m a kindly way to tell you wluit I'd lieard and to say we're all a-pityin' poor younj^ Sir Hubert. Good-night," and Franks slipped out as noiselessly as she liad entered. Harris knew that Saunders, beiii'T the under-crar- dener, wou'd have every opjxjrtunity to witness the scene at the pagoda, and that I'riinks being his sweet- heart he would be sure to report it to her, and she being a confirmed gossip would be sure to spread the talc without dela}'. Harris liad of course heard whispers before and had made licr own observations, althoufih she could hold iier toncrue. Hei ng very fond of Bert, the good woman was really sore at hea.t to think that he should liave a step-father. The rumors liad gone even further than Franks had reported, and tlie meeting at the pagoda was said to have been one by appointment, which re- moved all doubt as to the position occupied by Colonel Quinton in Lady Sevan's regard. Had she not allowed Miss Bevan and her son to go out together whilst she remained at home } And had not he come walking up through the grounds and found her, as of course liad been arranged, in the summer- house? There could be no question as to what was about to haooe pp( ■n. When the Squire of Chorlwood heard tlie news he was at first furious and stoutly denied it, but it came to him from so many quarters and with so many particulars that he was obliged at last, like others, to believe it. Chagrined as he was, he was a rtouL- !i IIH ..'•' •-■*•■ ._ Ii8 PVAS EVER WOMAN hearted young fellow and could accept defeat with a good grace. One morning, as he was on his way to the stabies, he saw Quinton aiding up the avenue to visit him, and he waited. His first words were ; " So, old man, you've beaten us all and carried off the prize of the county." Quinton smiled as he dismounted and shook his friend's hand. " I am not aware of having won anything particu- lar since the last races." •* Oh, rubbish ! What's the use of keeping the thing dark from your friends when everybody is talk- ing oT your good luck and envying it ? Come, you have stolen a march upon me, and you owe it to me to give me a full account of the affair and how you managed it." " Managed what ? " inquired the colonel, still affect- ing not to understand to what he alluded. " ' Pon my soul, Quinton, / should have thought that you would have been too proud of your victory to sham ignorance of my meaning. Manage what ? Why to get the charming widow's consent, of course. It's a rare plum and no mistake, and you're a lucky dog. Come, tell us all about it without any more gammon." The colonel was still smiling as who should say — '• You know these soi t of things ought not to be talked about until it may be agreeable to the lady, and I cannot gratify your curiosity yet." But the words he uttered were in flat contradiction to his expression. " If you are referring to Lady Bevan and tne rumor 7jV J his IIVMOR WOOED? 119 at with a e stables, 'isit him, irried off hook \\\9, particu- ping the Y is talk- Dme, you it to me how you ill affect- thought r victory e what ? )f course. I a lucky ly more Id say — )e talked y, and I e words pression. le rumor •;l which is going about, I assure you it is incorrect. I am not such a lucky dog as you imagine, although I heartily wish that you were right." The squire looked at him for a moment with a comical expression, and then burst into a loud guffaw as he slapped him on the shoulder. "All right, old fellow, I see. She is shy, and doesn't want the affair to be officially announced just yet awhile. Keep up the farce as long as you like, but I congratulate you all the same, although I did hope to beat you in the running." To this Qiiinton onV responded with a slight laugh, which confirmed the squire in his belief that the report was true. lie had to undergo similar bantering congratulations from half a dozen of the squire's friends who called during his stay. Mrs. Talbot (Etheredge's sister) smiled appreciatively, and formally introduced him to her seven boisterous children, as if with some idea of giving him a preliminary insight into the joys of matrimony. Although he repudiated the flattering charge again and again, he left every- body under the same impression that everything had been definitely settled for his early union with the wealthy and beautiful Lady of Warburton. Lady Bevan lived in such retirement that she heaid little of this gossip, and what little she did hear she was too proud to heed. '' J ! J ' t ' '20 Pl^AS EVER V'OM.lX CHAPTER XIV. ■■•ij I ;l I "KURUlBONI." The brilliant equipage of Kuruboni, vendor of the world-renowned African oil, was tearing along the highway at a rate which would have warranted any constable in taking the proprietor up for furious driv- ing. Happily for him he was not within a township, but on a quiet country road, with sweet-smelling hedges, tall trees, and green fields on either side. The Httle black doctor was in high spirits, and rapid motion was necessary to him. If he had not had his wacronette he would have run on foot as if in a race. As it was he sat in front flourishing his whip, whilst his little eyes twinkled, his head waggled, muttering all the time as if addressing an immense and profitable audience in some invisible fair or market-place. His melancholy young assistant sat in the body of the vehicle in the midst of baskets and boxes packed with bottles of the magic African oil. The poor fellow was terror-stricken, and nervously held on to the rial behind him with both hands, expecting every moment that they would be capsized into the wide ditch by the roadside. He had always regarded his dusky master with a certain degree of fear, and now he watched him anxiously, under the impression that he had gone mad, and trembled fr _ head to foot when- ** ' om IN Tills IIVMOR irooP.D > \2\ ever he saw a cart approaching. But Dr. Boncy managed to tool past the few carts they met with excellent skill, shouting something which he intended for a witticism to the carters as he passed, flourishing liis whip vigorously the while. The men would stand and stare after the equipage, no doubt fancying that it was Old Nick himself out for a holiday. "Ah, ha! I'm off to Australy, am I?" he was chuckling to himself, reiterating the phrase as if it amused him greatly. " I'm off to Australy, am I ? Very good country too, so people tell me. Plenty gold there. But what for go so far when I have a gold mine here, and all my own property. Ah, ha! Yup ! Whoop ! " And down came the whip on the horse, urging it to greater speed, whilst Boney laughed so immoder- ately that he rolled from side to side, alarming the youth behind him with the idea that he was about to tumble off his seat. Steadying himself suddenly, he turned round grinning upon his assistant and said boisterously : "You, Ki Fitch" (Ki was Boney 's playful abbrevi- ation of Hezekiah, which was the christian name of the youth who had been brought up in a workhouse), " you must not think me tipsy. You knon' I take very little — not much of the drink ; but I am merry. Yes, very merry." The assurance would have been mor*^ comforting to Ki Fitch had it not been that he had on several occasions seen his master very tipsy indeed, and been obliged to help him home to their lodgings. Boney turned his face to the horse again, and resumed that agreeable chuckling conversation with himself. I it : m WAS EVER WOMAN' " He say he is poor man ; but he is going to marry rich lady. Yes, very rich lady. Everybody tell me that, and he wants me to go to Australy. Then when I write from Sidney he will send me a hundred pounds. Very good. London will do for Sidney, and when he is married I come back and a.sk for more — very much more than a hundred pounds. Yes, that is it." Mere l^oney indulged in another wild laugh, and did not observe that he was ncaring a sharp turn of the road which led into Althorp-by-Wensum. lie did not slacken speed, but took the corner at full gal- lop. Next moment there was a crash, a shout and a scream, and Boney was lying on the ground with the body of the wagonette on his legs, whilst poor Ki Fitch was sprawling at a little distance covered with hampers and saturated with the magic African oil which they had contained. In turning the corner the wagonette had come full tilt against the cumbrous wheels of a wagon heavily laden with sheaves of wheat, the lighter vehicle being smashed and overturned, whilst the other was instantly brought to a standstill by the driver. Boney's horse went flying through the village with the shafts dangling at its sides and frightening it. The spectacle of the runav;ay horse gave the alarm, and brought speedy assistance to the scene of the accident. The driver of the wagon was cursing the dash <* nigger " whilst striving to extricate him from the debris of the wagonette. He did not, however, suc- ceed in doing this until the arrival of others. Boney was insensible. It was evident that he had sustained JN TJUS HUMOR WOOED ? 1^3 Berious injuries, and the necessity for summoning a doctor was apparent ; but the parish doctor's resi- dence was in another village three miles off. Forest Court, however, was near, and Dr. Somerville had been always ready to attend the villagers on an emer- gency without fee. , So a man ran off to inform him of what had happened, whilst a door was unhinged from one of the smith's outhouses, and on this the injured man was conveyed to the little alehouse. Ki Fitch had escaped without more injury than a few scratches and bruises on the face, and some cuts on the hands from the broken bottles. On the arrival of Dr. Somerville he found that Boncy had two ugly fractu'-es below the knee of the right leg, and that the collar-bone was out. In his quiet, decisive way he did all that surgical skill could do under the circumstances. The injured man was placed in a bed in a clean, tidy little room, fragrant with lavender. As soon as he regained consciousness Boney looked in a dazed way at the doctor and at the smith, and his wife who stood behind him. "What's the matter?" he asked, feebly. " Is any- body hurt ? " "Yes, my man," answered Somerville; "you are badly hurt, and you'll have to do your best to lie per- fectly quiet. If you manage to do that you will pull through all right, and meanwhile you are in comfort- able quarters here." ** Ah, yes ; I see. Tumble over, wagon and all. When will I be able to go on ? " "You will have to be content to remain here for M 124 H'AS EVER WOMAN some time, and it maybe months before you arc able to walk." Boncy closed his eyes and groaned at this infor- mation, which Somerville gave in a kindly, hopeful voice, but with sufficient gravity to impress the man with the fact that it was necessary to be patient and careful. Sam Barton, the smith and landlord of the village alehouse — the latter establishment beincr attended to by his wife, whilst lie worked in the smithy — was a hospitable man. Ikit, after learning that the " nigger " was likely to be liis guest for sometime, it was natur- ally a relief to liis mind to learn from Ki Fitch that his master had plenty of money, and would be able to pay handsomely for his accommodation. Ki was able to give this assurance the more positively because he knew they had been doing good business during the past few weeks. Moreover, he had heard his master chuckling to himself and talking about having found a gold mine, which Ki in his simplicity inter- preted literally. On recovering from his first fright, and finding that he was not dead, and had not even any bones broken, Ki had, with a forethought of which he scarcely appeared to be capable, taken charge of the tin box in which the money was kept, whilst the other things were being carried by the villagers up to the smith's shed. The weight of the box told him that it con- tained a considerable sum — wealth unbounded it seemed to be to his mind. So he gave the assurance to the smith that his master could pay well with con- fidence. able infor- ipcful man t and illago led to was a gger" natur- h that e able Ci was ecause during ird his iiaving inter- ig that )ioken, :arcely in box things smith's it con- ded it lurance h con- LV THIS HUMOR WOOED? »25 "All right, lad," said Barton, " only we'll have to ask him whether he wouldn't like to be moved to the county hospital." But when the question was put to him, Boncy pre- ferred to remain where lie was. lie had all the Oriental's love of case, and he believed that he had now no necessity to study cconom)*. His quarters were comfortable, the buxom Mrs. Barton was good- natured and an excellent nurse. Consequently there he remained for some time, as cheerful a patient as doctor or nurse could desire. The alehouse was, like all the other cottages in this small village, a long, low, whitewashed building, with red-tiled roof and small windows with diamond- shaped panes, surrounded by clusters of sweet-smell- ing honeysuckle. An open space which led to the cowshed and stable divided the house from the smithy. Ranged along the walls were old wheels of various sizes, ploughs and harrows, and a reaping- machine, some waiting for repair, others broken and discarded as of no further use. Standing a little apart from the village was the quaint old church surrounded with trees. A little farther away, also surrounded with trees and ap- proached by a shady avenue, was Forest Lodge, which had been for generations tne home of a family whose last descendants had come to such utter grief that they had been obliged to sell the property and dis- appear from the county. The purchaser had been Dr, Somerville, and there, aided by an able colleague, Dr. Pettigrew, he carried on his important investigations into the mysterious ailments of the nervous system, f; I II ;)i - .'. iirl 196 fVAS EVER WOMAN" He had of course handed Boney over to the regular practitioner of the parish as soon as that gentleman could be communicated with, but the African had interested him first and afterwards amused him. So he continued occasionally to visit him, and on one of these visits, when all danger was over, he was accom- panied by his special study, Mr. Livingstone. That simple gentleman entered the room smiling and bowing, but when he caught sight of the dusky face and the small, keen, bright eyes which peered at him from the bed, he halted, looked puzzled, and glanced in almost a distressed way from the patient to the doctor, and then back again. He seemed to be mentally chasing some idea which he seemed to be always on the point of grasping. Somerville was much struck by this, and tried to help him. ' "What is it, Livingstone ? " he asked in his quick way but kindly tone. " Has the man's face or color recalled anything ? " Livingstone shook his head in his dazed, helpless way, whilst there were deep wrinkles on his brow indicating that he was still painfully straining to catch that fleeting idea. " Look closer," said Somerville. Taking him by the hand, he led him to the bedside, Livingstone looked down at the dark grinning face and the twinkling eyes, then suddenly he threw back his head, and quietly, but resolutely, wrenched his hand from the doctor's and stepped back into the middle of the little room, where he stood shivering as if with cold or fright, whilst his eyes remained fixed on the 1 IN THIS I/CMOR IVOOED? 127 African's face under the compulsion of some myste- rious fascination. Somervillc watched these changes with the keen Interest of a man who is noting the progress of a scientific experiment. " This is the first emotion he has shown of any kind. That is something gained," Somervillc was thinking as he continued to study the features of his patient. " If it lasts the awakening may come." But it did not last ; the shivering subsided, and the gentle, imbecile smile with the puzzled look returned. " Dear me," he said quietly, " this Is very strange, I have seen something like this before." And then he looked vacantly around him, the spell of fascination havmg been broken as he spoke. Somervillc turned quickly to Boney with the inquiry : " Have you ever seen this gentleman ? " "No, sir, not till to-day," answered Boney, who seemed to regard the movements of his new visitor as rather funny ; ** but the old man seems to be what is it you say ? I have heard it many times. Ah, yes ! — seems to be off his nut. Yes — off his nut very much." And Boney was so much pleased with himself for remembering this slang phrase that he laughed until a twinge of pain In his leg sharply silenced him. " Your appearance Is associated with something In his mind," observed Somervillc, calmly, although he was Indignant at the African's levity. '* Say some- thing to him In your own language." Boney obeyed, and asked the simple question, " Do i \: I f h » t '111 'i "illl :i. I :l|l m 1\ ! i 128 trjS EVER UOMAX you feci better now, my brother?" in his native tongue. Livinj^stonc n^ain stopped smiling, and listened as if to some sound that came from afar off. *'A[:jain," said Somerville, quickly, whilst he watched his patient intently, and Boney repeated the ([iicstion. Livinc^stotie breathed hard, and lifted a liand to his car as if to catch the sound. After a moment the hand dropped, the^^cntlesmile returned, and he shook Jiis head as he said softly — " No, r cannot fnul it. Ikit it is very strange. I have heard something like that before. It seems to have l)een long ago, and yet I am so young that it cannot be long ago. ])o you think we know of things before we are born, doctor } " This startling proposition warned Somerville that the strain had been sufficient for the present. " We will talk about !'iat another time. We must be off now, but we will come to see you again soon, Kuruboni." " Thank you, sir, thank you — very much thank you. It is always pleasure to see you," was the grinning response. To the surprise of Somerville and Boney, Living- stone advanced to the bed and patted the invalid tenderly on the brow. " So. I will come again soon too, and perhaps you will help me to find it. Good-bye, good-bye." As Somerville, with his companion, passed out, he saw Ki Fitch, who had been sitting on a large stone which stood beside the doorway, practicing in a melan- native ictl as ^t he ed the [ to his nt the : shook I cms to that it now of He that e must n soon, ,nk you. rinning Living- invalid |aps you out, he L^c stone melan- IN THIS HUMOR WOOED? 129 choly way sonic simple conjuring tricks with a penny. Having watched the necromancers in the numerous fairs which he attended with his master, he had a mihl hankering after their profession rather than the African oil business. Rising hurriedly to i)ay that respect to the gentlefolk with which he iiad been inculcated in the work-house, he almost swallowed the penny which he had to pretend to do in the trick he was practicing. From him Somerville had obtained most of his infor- mation about Boney, and so he spoke some cheerful words to the lad, who seemed to him to be on the highway to chronic hypochondriasis. The words acted as a tonic, however, and Ki went back to his slavery with some sense of warmth in his skeleton frame. lie was kept in constant day and night attendance upon his master, not that his services were required in any other way than to act as a guard over the tin box, which was kept under the bed, and which Boney suspected everybody in the village had heard about and meant to steal. " I am getting better, Ki Fitch, and when I can walk about you will luu'c to take a message from me to a great man — very great man — Colonel Quin- ton .... box all right ? Look." This was a command which Ki had to obey about twenty times every hour, and during the night he had frequently to tumble off the little sofa on which he slept to satisfy his master that the box was still safe As was his wont, Somerville talked cheerfully to his pet patient as they walked along the leafy lanes to Forest Lodge. He always spoke to him as if he were 5 iii! 'I ■*l! H»hJ ■4 . 1 li 130 ir.lS EVER irOMAJ^ quite rational and comprchcMuIccI what was said-^ trcatinjj him in fact as if he had boon the most inteHi- gcnt of friends. On the present occasion Somcr- ville was much elated, for in his eyes what had passed in the cottage was another and a stronj]jproof of the theory he had formed that Livingstone's memory would yet be restored. " I tell you what, Tettigrew," lie said, as he related the circumstances to his colleague ; " I liave been as much pleased to-day as I have ever been with any of our experiments. If we could only get a clue to the poor fellow's past life and bring him into close association with old familiar friends and scenes, I believe there would be in six months almost, if not quite, complete restoration." " You are, as usual, sanguine and enthusiastic," said Pettigrew, somewhat dryly. He was a Scotch- man, really as enthusiastic as his comrade, and quite as earnest, but he was cautious, never committing him- self to any definite opinion until the end was assured. " No doubt, if we could bring him into such contact as you suggest we would have a good chance of resto. ing him to something like what he must once have been." " Well, we must seek until we find the means of bringing him into that contact. I am the more deter- mined upon it now that I have come to the conviction, which I have hinted at before, that his present con- dition is due to the criminal act of someone." ** I wish you would lay that idea aside, or it will interfere with your study of the purely scientific ele- ments of the case," said Pettigrew gravely. ** We /X THIS nVMOR WOOED t have nothinj:j to do witli whether or not it was a criminal act which produced the effect. We have got the effvCt : we are ahnost sure of the cause — a bullet wound on tlie brain and poisoninj^ of the blood. Our business is to re-estab'ish the old conditions of blood and brain. Di.n't let us w.uuier out of our direct course ami beL;in romancing." " I don't know but our romancing may help our theories. You will probably say that 1 am romancing still more when I trll you that tht;re is a paragra{)h in to-da)''s Times which has curiously attracted my fancy, and suggested that it may have something to do with our case." '• What is the paragraph ? " asked Teltigrew, smiling a])preciatively at his colleague's quick way of picking up shreds of information from the most unexpected quarters, and applying them to their work. " It is a report from Melbourne that an Australian vessel has rescued four men from a desert island on which they had been living for iiionths. The island is in the same latitude as that in which we picked up poor Livingstone. Now if these men happened to have belonged to the same vessel in which he was wrecked, we will no doubt be able to get the inform- ation we require about his friends. The rest will be plain sailing. I have telegraphed to the agents in London for further intelligence." Il*l it !32 IVAS EVER WOMAN iw ^m « ill 'iili a V > I CHAPTER XV. A GALA DAY. The quietude which had so long prevailed at War- burton manor was at length to be broken in upon. Lady Bevan's father walked in, as was his custom, just as if he had only been in the next room for a few minutes, although three months had elapsed since his last visit. After his daughter's affectionate greet- ings were over Mr. Hollett spoke in his^ood-natured but brusque way whilst he stood on the hearthrug with his hands clasped behind him and she still had her arms round his neck : " Now, now, my lass, I want to waken you up a bit. You know that concession I got about eighteen months ago has turned out as big a thing as I expected it would do. The fair is now in full-going order and in the hands of capable managers, so that my constant personal superintendence is no longer necessary." "That is good news — you will be able to be so much more with us," said the daughter joyfully. " Just so, and the first thing I am going to do is to give you a surprise by trying to make Warburton the hospitable and merry place it was when Sir Hubert was at home." " I am afraid you can never do that," she rejoined, IN THIS HUMOR WOOED ? »33 sighing and shaking her head, although the smile of gladness at having her father with her still remained. " We shall sec. The first of September is close at hand and * partridge shooting begins,' as the almanacs say. Also it is the anniversary of a certain event — do you think you can remember what event ? " " Bert's birthday, of course," she answered laughing. *' Do you suppose, if I could forget it, Bert would allow me to do so ? He has been chattering about it for ever so long." "Very good. Well, I am not going to take you to Scotland or anywhere else this year — unless we take a run later on to the south ; but I am coming here for the partridge shooting." " That will be delightful," she exclaimed. "And I am going to bring some friends with me to share it. . . . Ah, I see, you don't care so much about that part of the plan, but we must do something to clear the cobwebs out of the house, and there is something else that will perhaps surprise you still more. How old is Bert on the first . " " Eight," she responded, amused and wondering what her father was going to propose next. *' Well," the father went on gayly, " I mean to have Bert's eighth birthday celebrated with as much state as if it were his coming of age." " Oh, what an idea ! " she ejaculated, drawing back as if frightened. *' I could not bear it — everything would remind me too keenly of the one who should be present on such an occasion." "That is just the feeling I ^\'ant to overcome, and you must let me have my way. In these days it is of I H. I Ivi'l -i m 't-y.-i.t^'- ■ rti ■■ > '-->" ili' I f f hli "'III li 111 m ! ; ! jl 134 W'^/^- iCTTTA' WOMAN the highest importance that landowners should have the goodwill of their tenantry as well as their rents. Now I wish the boy to be formally presented in a pleasant way as the new master of VVarburton. So I propose that we invite all the tenants with their families and allow as many of the other country folk to come as please to a feast of unlimited beef and beer. We can have a large tent in the meadow — I'll get somebody to arrange all that so that you will have no trouble — and after the folks have feasted we will introduce Sir Hubert, and I am sure the sight wiR do you good. There's my plan, and it is on condition of your allowing mc to carry it out that I am going to stay with you for a month or so." Mr. Hollett was so enthusiastic about this project that he overcame all opposition. In making the arrangements for the grand yVV^ he found an able and experienced coadjutor in Colonel Quinton, who entered into the scheme with an enthusiasm almost equal to that of the originator of it. Mr. Hollett, who had always entertained a friendly feeling for the colonel, felt more friendly towards him now than ever. Between them they arranged an extensive pro- gramme. With the assistance of an experienced caterer from the county town two large tents were erected in the meadow, and an army of waiters was hired to wait upon the guests, for it was part of Mr. Hollett's plan that all the servants of the manor should be free during the greater part of the day to share in the sports. For the young people all sorts of games were arranged. There were to be foot IN THIS HUMOR IVOOED ? >35 races, leaping matches, cricket matches, and a greasy pole was to test the climbing abilities of those who chose to win the prize at the top, which was to be not, as is usually the case, a leg of mutton or pork, but a purse containing money. A band was engaged to enliven the proceedings, and if the weather proved favorable there were to be dances in the old style on the green sward. The sun rose through a thick haze on the morning of the gala day ; but the sun was strong and the haze ■was soon dispersed, leaving a clear, pale blue sky, giving the assurance of fine weather. Everything was in readiness, and the people were expected to assemble between eleven and twelve o'clock in the forenoon. "This is capital," said Mr. Hollett gleefully as (whilst dressing shortly after six a.m.) he looked out of the window. " We can have two or three hours with the partridges and be back in good time to receive the crowd." The guests he had invited had all been known to the late Sir Hubert, and had visited the manor during his lifetime. There was Mr. Quarles, the eminent Q.C., whose wife (the second) was little older than Lady Bevan, and entertained as much affection for her as ladies in society can afi^ord to extend to each other. Next there was Mr. Broadbent, a great cotton millionaire, whose wife was a homely, good-natured creature. She did not share her husband's desire to shine in society since he had grown so wealthy, but succeeded in keeping her place in an unassuming way which made everybody like her. The presence ^V ■ i ■■ -3; ill \ ■if ' ':' I I.. m i III i; 13^ PVAS EVER WOMAN of these two ladles certainly did afford pleasure to the young widov/, and served for the time to veil the strained relationship between her and Aunt Jane. The only other guest was Lord Ormington, eldest son of the Earl of Dunchester, whose name figured prominently in the lists of the directors of various companies. He was about thirty, and was one of those who believe in taking life easily and leisurely. He never hurried himself about anything — not even about paying his debts. But he was a very pleasing companion at the dinner-table, in the billiard-room, or in the field. On going downstairs Mr. Hollett found the gentle- men in the hall, guns in hand, waiting for him. With them was Colonel Quinton, who of course had been invited to join the party, and who had obtained per- mission for Bert to go out with them. Bert was beside him now, and he had been the first down in the hall. He was eyeing the guns longingly, and lamenting to his friend that mamma would not allow him to touch firearms. " Never mind, general," Quinton was saying, "you'll soon be big enough to handle a gun safely as well as to control Pedro." Two keepers were waiting outside to conduct the party to the scene of sport, and they all started as soon as Mr. Hollett joined them. Throughout the morning Bert kept close beside Quinton — the others indeed paid no attention to him, and, if the truth were known, secretly regarded his presence as somewhat of a nuisance, as they felt constrained whenever they came near him to say IN THIS HUMOR WOOED i '37 something to the little proprietor of the land over which they were shooting. Quinton, on the other hand, explained to him about the use of the gun and the habits of the partridge. Moreover, th'^ colonel was so successful in bringing down the birds that Bert's confidence in him was completely restored. He became his hero again, and the fright with which the housemaid Franks' words had affected him was com- pletely forgotten. The morning's work was highly satisfactory, and now the chief business of the day was at hand. On the roof of the manor was a square flat space with a high railing on each side from which a magnificent view of the country for miles round was obtained. From this place Lady Bevan and her guests saw the roads from all directions thronged with vehicles of every description and foot-passengers making their way to Warburton. Soon the meadow was filled with the gayly dressed and merry crowd. Lady Bevan, standing in front of the two large tents in which the beer and beef were waiting for the merrymakers, shook hands with her tenants one by one, and had a pleasant word for every farmer's wife and daughter, whilst they had a sympathetic greeting for her. After that there was a stampede into the tents, and healthy appetites did justice to the good things provided for them. That being done, the chief event of the day followed. The people gathered again out- side in front of a Httle platform on which Bert stood raised, with Colonel Quinton behind supporting him with b9th hands, his mother on one side, his grand- m i .Ml I :>i-. ^■A^ «38 IVAS EVER WOMAN" tt ; Vfl *m father on the other, Aunt Jane and the guests around him. He was not a shy boy, as is well known ; but the sight of that meadow full of smiling faces and the sound of the loud cheers which saluted him as he was lifted on to the platform daunted him. " I wish you would let me down," he said, turning appealingly to Quinton. " No, no, Bert ; you must be brave. These are your friends, who are glad to see you. Look how they are waving hats, handkerchiefs and hands. You must wait till grandpa has spoken, and then it will be all over." Mr. HoUett raised his hand, the enthusiastic demon- stration was silenced, and he spoke. *' Tenants of Warburton, neighbors and friends," he said, in a stentorian voice, with that confidence which he had acquired by long practice in the Town Council and at public meetings, ** I am not going to make a speech. (Loud cheers.) My duty is a very simple one, and I will not do you the injustice of supposing that you do not feel in your own hearts all the kindliness and sympathy which an occasion like this should evoke, and which no words of eloquence — even if I had the power to speak them — could instil, (More loud cheering.) All I have to say is, you have lost a good landlord and a good friend. (Sympathetic murmurs.) You have here his widow and his son* You know well that she is your friend, and you can believe that this child, who is now too early the baronet of Wa'hurton, will walk in the footsteps of his father. Give him welcome, then, as your landlord and friend for the future." f IX Tins IirMOR WOOED i »39 iround ut the id the he was urning ;se are k how s. You will be lemon- iends,'* fidence : Town Ding to a very jtice of ;arts all on like quence d instil. )u have )athetic lis son» ou can rly the teps of indlori^ There was tremendous cheering and waving of hats, hands and handkerchiefs, as before, whilst some of the women showed a keener appreciation of the position than the others by weeping. On the outskirts of the crowd, near the end of the meadow, where the words of the speaker were quite inaudible, stood Dr. Somervillc, with his patient, Mr. Livingstone, leaning on his arm. The latter was smiling childishly at the gay scene, and nodding his head as if he understood and approved it all. Bert was trembling violently during the ovation which greeted the close of his grandfather's address. " God bless the boy! " murmured some, " and may he live long to enjoy the position to which he is called." " Ah ! if he be like his father he'll be a good man," said others. " Maybe he'll lower the rents," muttered Wacks, the radical cobbler. -. " He'll go into Parliament and sit upon you Radi- cals," growled Sheers, the Tory tailor. Whereat there was likely to be one of their custom- ary furious wrangles, but at that moment Mr. Hollett held up his hand again, and once more the din sub- sided in expectation of what was to follow, " Now, Bert, be brave, my boy. You must say something to them," said Quinton, holding him tightly. " Oh, I can't," cried Bert, struggling to get free ; " they frighten me." " Nonsense, Bert. Repeat what I tell you. Are you ready ? " Bert; filtered out a reluctant; " Yes," whilst h^ 11 H : If! III i h i ■ 'I 1 U 140 irAS EVER WOMAX looked from right to left in the vain hope of finding some escape from his place of torment. " That's right," continued Quinton. " Now, take off your cap and bow," The child followed his instructions timidly, but with a natural grace which awakened the enthusiastic cheers of the crowd anew. When the sounds had subsided, Quinton proceeded with his prompting, and Bert managed to pluck up a little courage, as he now, as it seemed, for the lirst time recognized how kindly were the faces that were gazing upon him. " Repeat exactly what I say, and look straight at the people. Now, begin — ' I thank you all for your kindness and hope I may live to deserve your friendship.' " " Ay, that you will, lad," shouted Farmer Brouks, who stood near — a tall, broad-shouldered man of sixty. *' You come of a good stock, an' I'll an- wer for 'ee." This sentiment was highly approved by cvei*ybody, and it was indorsed with another loud cheer, in which those who did not hear a word joined as cordi illy as their more privileged friends. " That was very well done, Bert ; now, go on," said Quinton, encouragingly, whilst he knew that Lady Bevan was looking at him in grateful admiration at the help he was giving her son. He proceeded to prompt — " Say this : * I cannot thank you enough. You loved my father, and he deserved your love. (Tremendous cheering.) I hope that in years 19 (;ome you will be able to say that \ hav^ « ' ' t': •!# ' ♦ •* .t.t * » AV Tins I/VMOR WOOED? 141 inding ', take y, but isiastic Is had ipting, age, as gnizcd \ upon ight at for leservc 3ro(;ks, laii of an:'.\-er ybody, which illy as 1," said Lady tion at ded to nough. r love. I years I hav^ . faithfully followed his example. That is all I am able to say." Bert uttered the last words with more vigor than anything else he had spoken, or rather echoed, from Quinton. Me twisted himself round \\\ the hope of being now allowed to jump down from the platform. But his ordeal was not over yet, and the colonel held him steadily to his post. In the midst of the vocife- rous and prolonged cheering which followed this little address the band struck up " See, the Conquering Hero comes," whilst men and women pressed forward to shake hands with their young landlord with loud expressions of hope that his life might be long and happy. His healthy animal spirits asserted them- selves, and he began to see some fun in all these proceedings, so that he was better prepared for the next trial through which he had to pass than for the speech-making. A space was cleared for dancing near the tents whilst the games were beginning in other parts of the meadow. The band struck up the merry air of Sir Roger de Coverley, and Bert led off the dance with a buxom daughter of Farmer Brooks, who was too proud of the distinction to think of the diminutive stature of her partner. Bert, however, was heartily glad when the dance was over, and a ruddy-faced young farmer, who was the girl's sweetheart, claimed her for the next. The boy made off at once to watch the climbers of the greasy pole, the foot-races, the leaping matches, and the other sports which had been arranged for the day. Meanwhile on the outskirts of the crowd Dr. !:! r J m !i1ti '^U 142 JKIS EVEl^ JrO.lfAA^ Somerville and his friend had been observing all that passed. When Bert was raised upon the platform, Mr. Livingstone smiled and nodded as if the sight pleased him, although neither he nor his companion could hear a word of what passed. " Who is that," he asked, " standing up so bravely } lie is very young, surely — as young as I am." "There is somebody behind him holding him up and steadying him. That is the boy you were speaking to whilst you were waiting for me down by the river there. Do you not remember him } " This was another of Somerville's delicate tests of the progress his patient was making in the recovery of his memory. " Down by the river .... waiting for you," echoed the man as if trying to remember the circum- stance. " No . . . no, I do not remember. But he is a fine boy — fine boy. What are they doing with him > " His father is dead and this is a meeting of tenants and neicfhbors to salute him as the new baronet and master of Warburton. Livingstone was silent for a few moments, whilst he gazed steadily at Bert, wh^ was standing on the platform repeating the words Quinton put into his mouth. Then he slowly reiterated, as if in a dream, the one word which for a space had fixed his atten- tion. " Warburton ! . . . Warburton ! . . . War- burton ! " Then he was silent again, and seemed to be breathing hard. Presently he resumed. " Dear me, this is very strange. Something is running about Vimy head and I cannot catch it. . , . Ah! — there I IN THIS IIVMOR WOOED 7 »43 now — now I have It ! . . No; it has got away again." He sighed in sad resignation, whilst the painful expression of intense straining after memories wiiich constantly eluded him gradually faded, and the gentle, childish smile of pleasure in all he saw reappeared. Somerville was disappointed ; but he caught at the suggestion that there was some association in his patient's mind with the name of the place where they stood — Warburton. He introduced it into their con- versation again and again as they walked about, always on the outskirts of the crowd ; but utter darkness in regard to it seemed to have fallen upon Livingstone's mind, and the repetition of the name had no effect upon him. The eager experimenter made a note of the circumstance, and then decided that they should turn homeward. Livingstone, docile and obedient to every direction of his guardian, turned with him towards the road, although he cast a lingering look back upon the merry crowd. As they turned they encountered a pale- faced youth, who halted and removed his billycock hat respectfully. "Hullo, Ki F'itch," said Somerville, "I suppose your master is much better that you are able to be here ? " " Yes, sir," replied Ki, humbly ; " he gave m leave to come because there is to be a famous conjuror here, and he knows that I dote on conjurors." Ki did not tell the whole truth. His master had sent him to act as a spy upon Colonel Quinton, and to find out all he could about the expected marriage between the colonel and Lady Bev a. V'W ^1 144 H'AS EVER WOMAN I i! CHAPTER XVI. AN APPKAL. J;k; The day had been a most exhausting one for Lady Bevan ; the memories it had conjured up had tested her mental endurance to the utmost. In everything that was done her imagination presented to her mind's eye the figure of her dead husband. How proud he would have been on such a day ! How happy to reciprocate the friendliness of the tenants and neighbors! How he would have moved about amongst them, laughing, shaking hands, chatting concerning crops and farm-stock, and inspiriting them all to increased merriment. She started at the sudden remembrance that the place of this spectre of her husband had been filled by Colonel Quinton. Although her father had been busy attending to everything and everybody ; although Aunt Jane had exerted herself, as she always did to make everybody happy — yet it seemed to be Colonel Quinton who was " master of the ceremonies," leading everybody and directing every- thing with such subtle skill that nobody seemed to be conscious of his guiding influence. She only became aware of it herself now that her visitors had departed and the guests of the household had retired for the night. /.\- THIS in'MOR woor.i^? us r Lady I tested rything • mind's a day! of the moved :hatting ig them hat the m filled id been ybody ; as she seemed of the \ every- jd to be that her usehold Wliat was it about this man that made h( r lid .so kindly towards him and yet repelled her? What was the mysterious power he possessed which seemed to be forging a chain around her which would soon be completed, and through which she could not hope to break ? She could not answer the question, and attempted to thrust it away from her by going in to look at Bert. To her surprise, the boy was not asleep, and greeted her with a pleased cry of welcome. " Oh ! mamma, I am so glad you have come ! " he exclaimed, starting up in bed and clasping her round the neck. " I cannot go to sleep, and ! have been thinking and thinking, and I am so very, very sorry for my poor colonel." She started. She had come here ii> the h.ope of escaping from the thought of that man, and yet here on the instant there seemed to be struck another link of that mysterious chain he was forging around her. " Why should you be sorry for him ? He is quite well — he will be here again to-morrow." "Oh, no, mamma, he is not well! He told me he was very ill indeed. He is going away ; and he asked me if I would like him to go away never, never to come back any more. *. , . . Oh, you won't let him go away, mamma — will you ? " " My dear, how can I prevent Colonel Quinton from going away if he wishes to go ? " she said a little impatiently — impatient with the child, im- patient with Colonel Quinton — most of all impatient with herself, for she felt that she would be sorry if this dear friend were to be suddenly taken away from her. J X "I .1 It'll 140 mis EVER WOMAN w\ ' : i^iil Yet, -"-vas he not right ? Since slie had given her decisive answer to the wish he entertained what could be a more sensible course for him to pursue than to go away? She said to herself, "Yes, that was his proper course." It \/as kindly and noble of him to think of it. It would spare her so much pain. And yet — and yet, could she let him go when Bert appealed to her so strongly to make him stay ; when her own heart told her that she would miss this friend so much ? Why was it even at this thought that there rose up a feeling she could not explain of repugnance to this close friend of her husband and child ? Her father liked him, Bert was fond of him, and it was only Aunt Jane who stood out against him. Birt in her case was it not the workings of a jealous spirit which produced the enmity > She felt frightened, like one who has come to a steep precipice without any chance of retreat until help arrives to drag her back. She looked down into the depths, and seemed to see there Colonel Quinton holding up his arms to welcome her. She shuddered and trembled. Was she to fall down there — into his arms ? Was this to be her fate ? " No ! . . . And yet, and yet — v.'hat can I do for my boy } How can I help him ? " Then came the voice of the boy, insinuatingly and fondly "You won't let him go away, mamma, will you?" " I cannot tell," she answered in a smothered, half- hysterical VO..C ; " I cannot prevent him, if he wishes to go." JX THIS IirMOK WOOED f 147 riven her bat could 2 than to ; was his )f him to in. And len Bert y ; when miss this here rose ^nance to d ? Her nd it was . Birt in ous spirit ome to a reat until down into I Ouinton huddcred -into his can I do ;iiigly and vill you ? " ercd, half- he wishes " But you can, mamma ; for he says he will stay if you tell him to do so." She kissed the child, who clung so tightly round her neck that it was with difficulty she wrenched her- .sclf away. *' I will see, dear. Vou do not understand. Now try to go to sleep. . . . There, I'm tired." " But you won't let him go away, mamma, \\\\\ you r Bert held up his hands pleadingly, and she drew back, scared. " Go to sleep, Bert, dear, and do not trouble me any more. I will speak to you to-morrow." There was that abyss on the edge of which she stood trembling. There was that figure down below with long arms reaching up to her, seeming to clutch her and pulling her down and down ! Oh, :ould it be — that sh would yield at last ? That she would forget the past, and become this man's wife. It could not be. It shall not be. And yet when Quinton came the following after- noon she received him with unusual grace. There were mutual congratulations on the success of the previous day's proceedings, and by-and-bye came the question which was uppermost in her mind. " Is it true what Bert tells me, that you are going to leave us ?" she inquired timidly. He lifted his dark eyebrows as if surprised ; then his lips seemed to quiver a little as he replied ; " I did not know that he would speak to you about ' it," he said in a low voice, with an apparo^t effort to restrain deep emotion. 11 : !■ ! % J4i5 ^i !f H 148 fFJS EVER WOMAN And then, with what led to be )ntro1- vitn wnat seemed to dc an uncoi lablc outburst of feeling, he clasped both her hands and, as it seemed, with his heart in his throat spoke : '* Forgive me, Lady Be van. You remember what I said to you a little while ago. Let mc say it more deliberately now — I love you. . . . Don't shrink away from me. It is a passion which can make mc strong enough to tear myself away from you. It is a passion strong enough to give me courage to lie down and die so that you may be happy. Which is it to be ? Shall I go or stay? " She saw that great abyss and the long arms stretching towards her — noiv she felt !iis warm hands upon hers, his burning eyes glaring into her eyes, and he, in his deep voice, repeated: "Shall I %Q or stay ? " What should she answer to that ? " Husband ! help me, what shall I say ? He Is your friend — my boy's friend. How can I help myself? He loved you, and there can be no unworthy thought in the love which he gives to me and to our child." He was still holding her hands, gazing earnestly hito her face, and the deep voice again sounded in her ears ; " Shall I go or stay ? " . With a curious sickening sensation as if she were about to faint. Lady Bevan answereu in a tone that was little above a whisper: - " I would like you to stay, Colonel Ouinton — at least, until Bert gets over this feverish anxiety he has about you." She was very much fluttered as she spoke these words ; but he was quite cool. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it respectfully. ntrol- hands poke : A'hat I ; more ahrink ke mc It is a down s it to arms hands • eyes, : go or Is your lyself ? lought lild." rncstly dcd in e were le that on — at he has : these r hand AV THIS IICMOk WOOED "i 149 •'Since^^// wish it, I will stay." With that he departed, and she was left in a con- futed state of mind, uncertain as to how far she had committed herself by asking him to remain. Mad she said anything that he nn'ght interpret into sur- render ? She did not mean that. And yet his manner seemed to indicate that he accepted her words as an acknowledgment of his suit. lie must not be allowed to go with that belief. She would call him back and explain. But what had she to explain ? lie had been most courteous, and all through his conduct had been of such a na- ture that the most modest woman had nothing to say except that she yielded to his suit. Why liad she spoken these words ? Wli)' had she asked him to stay ? We'"e Aunt Jane's words to come true — was this man to become her master? "Oh, Bert, Bert; it is you who have done this." She was in despair; Ouiuton was rejoicing. He had carried his point. The mistress of Warburton was assured to him. She could not withstand the pressure of Bert and the advances which he was making so rapidly in her esteem. lie was gratified exceedingl}' ; but there was a chill upon his pleasure owing to the disagreeable infor- mation conveyed to him by Ki I'^itch on the previous day that Kurubor.i, instead of being on his way to Australia, was lying helpless with a broken leg at Althorp-by-Wensum and desired to see him. Consequently when he left Warburton after a short interview with Mr. Hollett and the guests at the house he rode to the village. t i', ISO PVAS EVER WOMAN When he entered the smith's cottage he was astonished to see an old gentleman with fine white hair sitting by the side of the bed and talking apparently with great cordiality to the dusky invalid. The grey-headed gentleman rose on his entrance and bowed whilst he smiled good-naturedly. Quinton stared at the man, and for a moment he seemed to lose his self-possession. " I beg your pardon, sir," he said huskily. " Will you p'^.rdon mc — may I ask your name ? " The gentleman laughed and rubbed his white hair vigorously. " My name ? Oh, yes. They call me Living- stone — but that is not my name I don't know my name. They left it out there in the hot country and they never brought it back again. . Don't you think that's funny .'' " The childish smile and quiet way in which the old man shook his head seemed to relieve the colonel, and he said to himself: " This is some damned coincidence or some mad dream. The fellow is an idiot." He turned sharply to Kuruboni. " Now, then, my man, you sent a mes- sage ♦ y nie. What is it you want ? " " 0\..., good deal," said Kuruboni slyly. "I'll tell you wiien our friend goes away." /.\' THIS HUMOR WOOED? *s» e was white alking ivalid. ceand 2nt he Will te hair iving- ' don't le hot • • • ^he old olonel, e mad iharply a mes- ril tell CHAPTER XVII. EXPLANATK )\S AND CONDITIONS. The observation of Kuruboni caught the ears of Mr. Livingstone, and with the quick sense of courteous- ness which seemed to pervade his whole nature, he rose ; but he looked hesitatingly at his invalid host. "You wish me to go away," he said, awkwardly ; "but Dr. Somerville said I was to wait for him to come back, and I must not do anything in disobedience to him." Kuruboni laughed until another twitch of his leg checked him, and he made a wry face with which he recovered his equanimity. " You are such a droll fellow, my brother, that I can make nothing of you." And then, turning to the colonel, he added, "You won't mind him. He can't understand what we are talking about, and what I have to say must be said now." " I have no notion of what you are going to say," Baid Quinton, sharply, "and I have no objection what- ever that it should be said before this gentleman. Although he bears a strong resemblance to an old friend of mine, I know that he cannot be the same person, and if his intellect will carry him so far I should be glad that he should be a witness between us. .... I think you said they called you Livingstone, sir ] " tii, rii 152 H^AS EVER irOALlAT I • '\:- Mr. Livingstone smiled in his childish way, and played with the corner of the counterpane as he answered — " I told you they called me Livingstone, but that is not my name. However, I will stay or go, but Dr. Somerville said I was to wait for him, and I always wait for him when he tells me to do so." The pleased, good-natured, willing smile accom- panied these words, and Livingstone rose up as if he were ready to go or stay, but the colonel now laid his hat upon the table, and, standing before the bed with his hands clasped behind him, said firmly — " I beg you to be seated, sir, till Dr. Somerville comes. I have not the honor of his acquaintance, but I have no doubt that for what passes between this person and myself he will accept your evidence with the comprehension he possesses of such intellect as you have — forgive me for saying that." " Don't, don't apologize," said Livingstone, laugh- ing heartily, and clasping his hands between his knees, as if he saw a great joke somewhere. " I know that my head has gone wrong, and it is running about wildly in search of my name and my home, and I an't find them. But please don't mind me; I don't care about anything you have to say. Or, if you wish it, I will go outside and wait at the door for my friend." " No," said Kuruboni, holding out his left hand, which was the one uninjured. " Stay with me." There had been a curious expression on Kuruboni's face whilst Mr. Livingstone had been speaking, and as he glanced at Colonel Quinton. He did not /iV THIS HUMOR WOORD ? 153 hand, know what was the instinct that prompted him, hut he felt sure that the ^^resence of Livingstone wouki help him in what he had to say and in the barf^ain he had to make. "As you please," said Quinton, with affected care- lessness. " I presume, from what you have already told me, that this is some attempt on your p jt to extort blackmail. You will ^nd that you have nii.;- taken your man." " Are you sure of that ? " Kuruboni turned his dark eyes upon the colonel with what believers in mesmerism would have callcvl a magnetic gaze. There was certainly something in his manner that betokened knowledge of previous actions which could not be easily explained away. "Fight me if you will," seemed to be his thought; " but you know I have the power, and I mean to use it." His words, however, were very mild. "Don't be angry, sir," he said, with liis broad grin and good-natured look; " I don't mean to be any- thing but your friend. Only, in return, you must be my friend " " I will do nothing more for you," answered Quin- ton, sternly. " You are a contemptible slave-dealer, and I helped you out of the difficulty which would have cost your life. I have paid you well. You must be content, and trouble me no more. Now I ani. going." " You had better stop a minute," said Kuruboni, with a curious placidity. " You had better tell me if you go, shall I tell my story to you or to somebody else ? " i " L ill n I !|.i I,. 'i; i I! «S4 IVAS EVER WOMAN- Quinton was evidently in such a state of irritation that he could not bear the man's conversation any longer, and so he responded with callous sharpness — " Well, what have you to say ? " "Do you demand that I say it?" said Kuruboni, with a painful movement of the body, turning his dark eyes upon him. "Are you sure that you wish me to speak ? " *' Say what you please. I have nothing to do with it. i liict you as a vagabond in Zanzibar and gave you some money. Nov^ you come to England and presume upon my kindness. Do )'ou dare to demand ■'irney from me because 1 was kind to you .'* " Kuruboni stared at liim for a minute, and then looked at Livingstone in a bewildered sort of way. "Arc you there, my brother ? " (my brotiier being the common phrase amongst Africans for those they like). " Can you hear him .'* Tell mc, shall I speak .-*" " Yea, yea," said Mr. Livingstone, noddmg on his chair, but not at all understanding apparently what was going on. " So be it then," exclaimed Kuruboni, raising his uninjured arm as if in appeal to an unseen god ; " I will speak." The courage and the conviction of the man utterly overpowered the brav^ado of Colonel Quinton. He shrank back and looked in astonishment at tlils com- mon nigger, who, if he dared to speak insolently to his superiors, would have felt the effects of the lash. But he forgot that Kuruboni was a slave- dealer amongst slaves, and had traffickea to an extent that would have placed him in a comfortable position but i'^ LV mis IIVMOR WOOED i »55 irritation :ion any rpness — luruboni, -ning his you wisli ) do with and gave land and ) demand and then jf way. iier being lose they I speak?" Gf on his itly what .isinc: his god ; " I m utterly on. He Ills com- lently to the lash, ve-dealer tenr. that ition but \ for one mistake, and that he had made in connection with Colonel Quinton. •' Now, then, my words arc as before Allah, the great god of all of us. You came to me in Zanzibar, and, finding me a poor man, yoii tempted me with gold. You told me that you were going up country with a wild Englishman, who had a rich estate, and that you wished to get rid of him somehow, and that you would be glad, and you would give me a hundred dollars." " Zanzibar, Zanzibar ! Dear me, that is \Qry strange," muttered Livingstone, becoming suddenly serious. " This is very strange. I seem to have heard that word before. Where is Zanzibar.^" The innocent curiosity with which lie asked the question was in singular contrast with the air of astonishment he showed when the word was first pronounced. Quinton stared at him again, and then mentally exclaimed — " Good God ! am I going mad, or is this some apparition sent by the hand of F'ate to frighten soul and heart out of me .'' " Then, suddenly reaching out his arm, he grasped that of Mr. Livingstone and shouted loudly — " ,Va)'e up, man — speak ! ILave you no recollec- tion of the past — no recollection of what you were or where you came from } There is something about )' ^a that reminds me of what must be impossible. Speak, I say ! " L ivinestone t{en roughl}/ grasping his said softly — tly removed the hand which was arm, and with his gentle smile W y■^•\ m >HI 156 lyAS EVER WOMAN Hi! • ii'i ^' You are hurting mc. You see I am not I'cry well, and that is why the doctor is taking care of me. If I could tell you anything I would. But I know nothing about myself, as I have told you. But our good friend here says he has something to tell you. Let him tell it. I will wait or go." "No!" cried Kuruboni, again uplifting his arm. "You shall stay. I desire it — I require it ; and if the good Dr. Somerville was lierehe would say, when I explained to him, that I was right." Quinton wiped his brow with his handkerchief, and sat down. " Go on," he said ; "tell me all that you have to say, and I will arrange matters as my judgment dictates for the best." Mr. Livingstone clasped the upraised hand of the African, and, pulling it slowly downv/ard, patted it gently, and the touch seemed to soothe the invalid. "Now, now, my friend, do not get angry; the doctor says it is wrong to be angry when you are not well. You are not well, and if the doctor were here he would tell you it was. very wrong of you to look so angry, and to speak so angrily. When he comes I will tell him that you have not behaved yourself." This childish remonstrance was received with one of Kuruboni's broadest grins, whilst Quinton, biting his lip, stared hard and unobserved at the dusky head on the pillow. None of them perceived that on the threshold, and screened by the half-open door, stood Somerville listening breathlessly, whilst Ki Fitch was standing humbly behind him. Now you hearken to me, Livingstone," said (( /A' THIS IIVMOR WOOED? »S7 ot I'cry : of mc. I know Ikit our ell you. lis arm. ; and if ly, when lief, and have to idgment id of the patted it nvalid. try ; the \ arc not ere here to look e comes urself." vith one 1, biting dusky that on i\\ door, hilst Ki e," said Kuruboni in a firm voice ; " I am going to ask this gentleman if he will give mc a sum — a big sum, two thousand pounds — to hold my tongue, or will he Cnz{y mc and make me speak." Quinton laughed contemptuously, rose, took up his hat and put it on. " All right, my good fellow, you have come to the wrong person to play off your tricks, as I have told you before. But this time you have gone a little too far. The sort of pretensions you make may do very well to gull fools ; but they have no effect upon men of sense. Now then, if you have nothing else to say to mc, I am going." " Oh, no. Colonel Quinton ! You are not to go yet. Look back — nearly two years, there you will see me in Zanzibar wanting something to do. Good. You come to me and you say very plain — ' Have you much debt } ' I say very plain —* A very great deal, sir. Why do you ask.* Then you say to me — ' I ask because I want a man who is ready to do some work for me. It is dangerous work, but it will pay you well if you do it successfully.' " " No ! " shouted Quinton, angrily, " I never spoke such words to any man." Somerville moved a little further into the room, so that he could see as well as hear. Kuruboni tried to raise himself, but Mr. Livingstone gently touched him on the shoulder and the African sank back on his pillow. " No, no, my friend, said the g-entle voice, you must not try to rise up," whilst the hand was passed soothingly over the head of the angry man, and the effect seemed to be magnetic. i 158 U'.tS EVER UV.U.ia' 1 , i! ; \l Kuruboni gasped as if put out of breath by the kindness of the one and the harshness of the other visitor. *' So be it, then," said Kuruboni, with a i;rin which was fiendishly sardonic, and altoj^ether different from the one which usually appeared upon ]n"s face. " I will tell the story " Quinton put on his hat, saying, " I don't choose to listen." He turned towards the door, where he encountered Somcrville, who, bowin^j low, said quietly — •• Excuse me, sir, but I am very much interested in my patient, Mr. Livingstone, and as I was coming in I heard the mention of Zanzibar, which seems to have some association with his unfortunate affliction in his total loss of memory. So I waited for a moment to hear what passed. Permit this man to go on : I may learn something from it." " The man can go on as long as he pleases and as you choose to listen," said Quinton, coldly; "but there is no necessity for me to stay to hear his ravings." Kuruboni laughed in such a way as to startle even the dull intellect of the poor imbecile, who put out his hand again in a frightened way, thinking there was something the matter with the man. " Don't do that," he said ; " it will hurt you." To the amazement both of Mr. Livingstone and of Dr. Somerville, the invalid raised his arm straight up in the air, and- in a stentorian voice, proclaimed : — " You shall stay, Colonel Quinton — since that is your name — till I have told my story." IN Tins iii'MOR u'oornf >S9 I by the ic other n wliich :nt from ICC. " I hoosc to ountcrcd rested in coining Bccms to affliction ;ed for a s man to cs and as ly; "but hear his rtle even ) put out ing there ou." ne and of :raight up med : — :e that is A curious laugh accompanied this exclamation, but Quintoi\ turned away from it with an impatient ** Hah! " and was on his way to the door when Somcr- viile gripped him by the arm and whispered to liim : *• I think you may be able to help me in this case. Will you oblige me by staying and getting out of this man as much as you can ? " "Well, I suppose it is impossible for mc to decline that invitation, and therefore we will try what we can do, Ikit you must remember that you take the whole responsibility of the affair, and that, whatever comes of it, no responsibility remains with mc." With that he turned back, laid down his hat again, and said, quite bravely and even sternly to the half- caste ; — '* Now, then, my man, what is it you have got to say to me ? " Kuruboni, who had been gasping for breath and was still clasping the friendly hand of Mr. Living- stone, lifted his eyes with an expression of fierceness in them which was quite unusual. " Colonel Ouinton, you told me that your friend was in your way, and you would give me two thou- sand dollars if I could arrange to get him out of your way. You told me how it was to be done. We crossed to the mainland with ten carriers. Then you said * Twelve weeks' march from the coast you will bring your friends to attack us, and they shall do their work.' Twelve weeks' march, remember " " Twelve weeks' march," murmured Mr. Living- stone, in a puzzled way. " ^ow, t/iat is very strange. I remember — no, I don't — it's all gone. But I saw I! ! ( ( I" ' lilt •pi i; I: I il! ; U > in i6o WAS EVER WOMAN them come up all in a crowd, and they hred and fired " He turned a helpless look upon Somerville. Kuruboni, in spite of his disablement, managed to raise himself ap in bed. •'Allah! the marvelous! — can this be ? You are not the man." " No, no; it is one of the dreams that the doctor will tell I constantly have." Colonel Qu'nton turned contemptuously to Dr. Somerville. "Well," he said, "are you satisfied? These two lunatics have got their story to amuse themselves, and for some reason this rascal has fixed upon me as a person upon whom he can draw unlimited sums by means of threatening me with the exposure of this ridiculous story. I have pro\ en to you by my wil- lingness to listen to it that I have nothing to do with it." ** Ah, so ! " exclaimed Kurubcni. " Did you see the poisoned arrovv pointed at the breast of )'our friend, that you told me and paid mc for ^\as to be sure to be sent home ? Did you hear the crack of the bullet that came from the revolver which }'c)u held in your hand pretending to point at the enemy while }'ou shot your friend as we stood on the plain by the forest?" ** Dear me," said Mr. Livingstone, " that's very odd ; I begin to think of something." Somerville witiiout any suspicion of Colonel Quin- ton lookod at him questioningly, and then turned iiis gaze n.^'st on Kuruboni, and afterwards upon Living- red and r> lacked to You are e doctor Y to Dr. hese two LMiiselvcs, on mc as sums by re of this r my ^vil- :> do with you see of )'our aS to be craciv of lich you ic enemy the plain ^cry odd ; nel Ouin- .urned his n Living- IJV THIS IIVMOR WOOED? i6i stone. He found in none of the faces the explana- tion of his thought. In his sharp, quick, but cour- teous way, he turned again to Quinton. " I must ask you to help mc, colonel. This man (pointing to the African) may be trying to black- mail you ; but this man (pointing to Livingstone) certainly is not. Will you tell me if you have ever met him in Africa } Stand up, friend, and let the colonel have a good look at you — come this way to the window." Somerville took his obedient and smiling patient to the window so that the full light of day fell upon his face, but the shadow of the little curtain over the window seemed to darken his hair to such an extent that it became almost black. Kuruboni with a shriek almost jum.ped out of the bed, and was only prevented from doing so by the sudden rush of Ki Fitch, who held him tightly down, whispering in his > — " Master, master, do not move. Wait." Kuruboni fell back panting with his eyes glaring upon Mr. Livingstone, wlio stood with his customary childish smile as if much amused with all that was going on, and allowing his hand to remain in that of Somerville obediently. Quinton had drawn back into the farthest corner of the room with a startled expression on his face, and a still more startled expression in his mind. With what agony it arose — with v.'hat agony he allowed himself to think it possible — no words can describe; but the thought took this form — " Great God, can this be Hubert Be van } How 6 Uy hi 162 PVAS EVER WOMAN can he have escaped ? How can he have changed into this guise ?" But to the gaze of the others he only showed simple astonishment at the conduct of the invalid and the imbecile. ** I have never seen the man before," was Quinton's answer to the question of Dr. Somerville. " He lies/' shrieked Kuruboni, pointing with a trem- bling hand towards Livingstone. " That is the man he paid me to have killed." Livingstone was moved by a feeling that the poor man was ill, and walked over to him again, and assist- ing Ki Fitch in pacifying him, patted him in his gentle way on the head, saying — ■ " Now, now — the doctor says you are not to excite yourself, and here you are doing it as hard as you can." Kuruboni lay back again on his couch, whilst Colonel Quinton was laughing at the absurdity of the scene. " It is scarcely necessary, sir," he said, coolly, ad- dressing Somerville, " to ask you to put an end to this ridiculous scene. I presume you have authority of some sort to act in such cases as this; and I take the liberty of asking you to release me at once from any further investigation into this riddle." " I cannot say that I have authority to act in any case of this kind ; but of course you are at liberty to leave. At the same time, I should be obliged if you would allow me to have your address." Colonel Quinton laughed, as if much amused by the earnestness of the request as well as by the decision of the tone in which it was made. IN THIS HUMOR WOOED ? 163 :hangerl showed alid and )uinton's 1 a trcm- the man the poor id assist- m in his to excite rd as you " I don't see what use it may be to you," he re- plied, ** but you can always hear of me at the Black Bull or from my friend Mr. Etheredge, of Chorlwood.'* "Thank you," said Somerville. "Now, will you permit me one more test for the benefit of my poor friend ? I want him to stand face to face with you — why I take the liberty to ask you to allow me this favor I will explain afterwards. Come here, Living- stone. Do you see this gentleman ? " Livingstone nodded in acquiescence. ** Have you seen him before ? " Mr. Livingstone looked hard, then the childish smik came again over his face, and he replied — " I do not know ; I think I saw him once and loved him." h, whilst ity of the )olly, ad- m end to authority nd I take )nce from ct in any iberty to ed if you ed by the decision w 164 IFAS EVER WOMAN h CHAPTER XVIII. CURIOSITY AND INQUIRY. :!' r:!i i II SOMERVILLE looked inquisitively at Km uboni, then turned back with an insinuating smile to Colonel Quinton. " I am afraid you cannot help, colonel," he said, with a half-amused and yet sad shake of the head. " At the same time I thank you for your willingness to oblige me. Come, Livingstone, give your thanks to Colonel Quinton for his desire to help you." " Quinton ? Quinton ? Now, that is very strange. How do you happen to come to be Colonel Quin- ton ? . . . That was the name of a great friend of mine .... but 1 lost him a long time ago. I stood in the midst of a great crowd who shot bows and arrows, and I fired my revolver and Quinton fired his, and then I fell Oh, God, that was homble ! And Sturgis cried to me, * Oh, master, you are killed ! ' Then I heard no more, and cared no mere — I was dead ! " " Yes, yes," cried Kuruboni ; " you were dead." This explanation of the African startled and civmazed Somerville, so that he stood for a moment in much bewilderment. But his quick sense and the imagination for which his colleague, Mr. Pettigrew, blamed him came to his rescue. IN THIS HUMOR WOOED ? l6s loni, then I Colonel he said, the head, willingness Lir thanks ou. y strange. >nel Quin- eat friend time ago. shot bows nton fired lion'ible ! yc'U are no mere — dead." rtlcd and moment in i and the Pettigrew, "Give me your hand, Livingstone," he said, in a firm voice. " Now grip it hard and answer me directly — Were you ever in the country of this man } " He pointed his finger steadily at Kuruboni, and the sternness with which he did so made Ki Fitch shrink back to the foot of the bed. " I think I was," the man answered, childishly. " He is dark — I saw many dark people. It was the dark people who came upon me, and it was the dark people who were so kind to me that they nursed me back from illness to health again. They were good and kind. I thank them with all my heart. . , . But I am tired, my friend ; let me go back with you and sleep." Somerville said a few courteous words to Quinton, and decided to take his patient away. But he had formed an idea which he intended to put to the proof on the following morning. The presence of the guests at the manor, besides releasing the two ladies from the dual soHtude which under the circumstances had become very trying to them, had provided Miss Bevan with a considerable amount of occupation of a kind congenial to her. The relief thus afforded from the oppression of her own thoughts and emotions was very welcome, and enabled her to avoid the morbid brooding to which even such natures as hers sometimes give way when trusted friends have proved faithless and the bitter- ness of disappointed hope poisons the currents of the mind. Nevertheless, in spite of hospitable cares and social n--\ It ill III ^m '''11 i ii'' ■::;'! ! : !i|!!: i66 W^^i* iET^^ PVOM/IAT duties, it was impossible that the dteper trouble should be altogether banished from her mind. Indeed, the ceremonies connected with the presenta- tion of Bert to the tenantry of the estate were to some extent an aggravation of her trouble in so far as it had to do with her brother's fate. Her mind was in a painful state of chaos; for al- though the thought remained strongly with her that somehow her brother had escaped and was alive, there were times when a voice seemed to say jeeringly, "Why, you are mad to think of such a thing ! You loved this man ! And when you hoped he might return the love you thought him brave and honorable — to be admired in all things; but forsooth now, because he has given his favor to some one else, all his virtues and admirable qualities are eclipsed in your eyes, though not in those of others, and no crime is too horrible, no meanness too great to be laid to his charge. " Fie ! nobody doubts him but you ! Are you not ashamed ? " And for a season Aunt Jane's heart would be filled with remorse as well as anguish. Then the other voice would make itself heard : — " Not so ; you forget. Sturgis suspected him." On Bert's birthday she was moved strongly in Quinton's favor ; for why, she asked herself, should he help to put the boy so forward ? — why should he help to make his place secure in the minds and hearts of the tenants, if his designs were of the mean and sinister nature that she ascribed to him ? Yet, even as she looked with involuntary admiration at his AV Tins HUMOR WOOED i i6f trouble mind, resenta- were to 50 far as ; for al- her that ^e, there jcringly, •! You e might Dnorable »th now, : else, all lipsed in and no at to be \re you be filled he other lim." ongly in f, should hould he nd hearts nean and V^et, even )n at his kindly management of Bert, the inward conviction deepened : The man is acting ; it k consummate art, but it is not truth. Noticing, as she did, however, Lady Bevan's natural pleasure and gratitude for all the kindness shown to her son, and being, as she was, the unwilling recipient of much of the county opinion on the state of affairs between the two, Aunt Jane could not but commune with herself as to how it would affect her own future if the expected marriage were to take place. There was a blankness about that future prospect which Aunt Jane had never experienced before. It is one thing to assert laughingly that you mean to remain an old maid, and quite another to feci assured in your inmost heart that no other fate is possible. But in the near future it would affect her, too. She must leave the manor, of course ; and, had it not been for Bert, she felt that half the world would not have been too much to put between herself and it; but if this marriage should take place it would make Bert more her care than ever, and she was sure that her duty would be to remain close at hand that she might watch over the boy and guard him from — from what ? That was, indeed, a bitter thought that he should need to be guarded from the unknown evil which might come to him, as it had come to his father, from the hand of a false friend. Well, there was it least something else of a practical nature to occupy her mind ; and as soon as the departure of Mr. Broadbent and his wife had left her without a lady visitor specially dependent upon i.er i68 IVAS EVER WOMAN' for amusement, Aunt Jane began to pay frequent visits to Ivy Lodge in order to superintend its thoro ugh renovation, as the unwilling conviction forced itself upon her that at no distant date she would have again to make it her home. Somerville had in his way associated the idea that had suggested itself between the rep;^tition of War- burton, Zanzibar, and Colonel Quintor with some mysterious f -^-nnection with tli ■ br „.? ^{ Hubert Bevan, of Warburton. He dim!) rerri^iuabered being told that Hubert Bevan had gone cut o'l an explor- ing expedition and had not returned. He could not believe that he was so fortunate as to have discovered the lost baronet ; and, although he hoped, he was almost frightened with the joy of think- ing of it. Pettigrew would of course snub every idea of such a coincidence. But he would try it himself. Accordingly, on the following day he walked — he would not drive because he believed in physical exercise — to Warburton. He passed with his friend through the meadow gate and up towards the house by the way of the stables. Morris was busy swishing the pony carriage, and turned round sharply at the arrival of such early visitors, but when he saw Dr. Somerville, whom he recognized, he took off his cap respectfully. " I ask your pardon, sir, but I was a bit riled at hearin' somebody comin' up, as I'm raither late with my work this marning, but seein* it's you it don't matter." " That's all right, Morris, I am sorry to disturb you/' said Dr. Somerville. kindly, "■ but this is a friend m Tins HUMOR wooed? 169 requent lorough id itself d have lea that )f War- h some Hubert d being explor- nate as ough he )fthink- ery idea limself. ced — he physical is friend le house Gfe, and h early lom he riled at ite with it don't disturb a friend of mine who is a little queer in his mind. Now, I want you to help me to put him right. Will you do so ? " He put th ■ last question very sharply, bending down toward:, the man witV a snapping aspect. "What did vou say, bir ? " replied the man, looking up to him in milu way. '' I am a h'tcleduU o' hear- in', bat I'll do your bid(Mn' " *' That's kind, my man, thank you. If her lady- ship will permit me I should like to walk round the grounds of Warburton. Here is my card — if you will take it to Lady Bevan I believe she will grant me the favor." As Morris took the card he and Dr. Somerville were surprised by the sudden appearance of the horse Pedro, who went straight up to Mr. Livingstone, sniffed at him in a curious way, and then rubbed his head against him. They were still more astonished by the outburst of the dog Sambo, who rushed furiously at the strangers, and then, almost as if struck by lightning^ stopped and gazed at the simple old man, who was smiling at him kindly. The dog placed his forepaws on the ground and stared up humbly, lovingly, endear- ingly as if he would say, '* Oh, master, you have come back." Livingstone slowly and with an almost awe-stricken expression stretched out his hand towards the dog, saying, in a trembling voice, " Do I know you ? " Sambo sniffed at the hand, and, suddenly, with a boisterous barking, jumped up and nearly overturned Mr. Livingstone with his tokens of affection. The .1 lyo IV/tS EVER WOMAN" horse Pedro had remained all tin's time quite still, and was much too dignified to pay any attention to Sambo's antics ; but he stood as tamely beside the old man as if he had the same affection for him a? the dog. Livingstone rested one arm round the horse's neck, the other he extended to Sambo, who placed his paw in it and, wagging his tail as if gratified, looked up with what might be called a laughing face of welcome into that of the old man. " Dear me," said Mr. Livingstone, as he turned with a helpless look of inquiry to Dr. Somerville, " this is very strange. I seem to know these crea- tures, and they seem to know me. Tell me what it means." Somerville looked solemnly at the two animals; then he turned abruptly towards Morris, who was staring in a perplexed way at the strange conduct of the horse and the dog. "Tell me, my man," he said, in his quick way, •' have you ever seen these animals behave in such a manner before } " *^ Well, I'm darned," replied Morris; " but I don't know what's the matter with the brutes, for they never went on that way with anybody except the master. Pedro is as wild as any horse can be, and cantanker- ous in his way." ; b^.*: he used to be just like that with the master. He would come when he called him, when none of us could touch him. And then there's Sambo, who is always a good fellow to anybody who is kind to him, but very particular in his likings, and I can't tell you why he takes to this old gentleman in '■• i'l i m tN THIS HUMOR WOOED? 171 ; still, ion to c the im a? incck, is paw cd up :lcome turned :}rville, \ crca- /hat it limals ; 10 was luct of k way, such a ; don't r never naster. ;anker- at with i him, there's ;ly who js, and nan in that way. If you please, sir, I'll j)ut the horse in tlie stable." " And then," said Somcrvillc, in a meditative tone, "you will oblige me by taking my card to Lady Bevan." Livingstone was still smiling childishly, and enjoy- ing the antics of the dog, and Morris attempted, with the help of the halter, to pull the horse away. But the animal would not budge. " Ah, you want him to go in ? " said Mr. Living- stone, patting the horse's neck, and continuing to smile. " Good boy, come with me." He gripped the loose halter, and the horse followed him humbly, as if he knew his leader, whilst the dog accompanied them, gambolling in great glee, until Pedro was safely installed in his stable. "There," said the imbecile, with pride, to Morris, "you see I know something about horses." Morris was trembling as he answered — "Yes, sir, you do. Only nobody but the master and myself could ever do that with Pedro. I don't understand, sir — there's the dog, too. He seems like as if he was welcoming a friend back from a long journey." 17a fFAS EVER WOMAN i:-i!l CHAPTER XIX. IS IT POSSIBLE ? Nodoubt remained in Somerville's mind after hear- ing Morris' words and witnessing the behavior of the faithful and affectionate animals. This was indeed Sir Hubert ]3evan who had been so marvelously placed under his care. It remained to be proved whether his theory would work out to a triumphant ending — whether, by the accumulation of familiar objects and faces from former times, the mind could be restored to its original conr dition. He firmly believed that it would be s(\ restored, and now watched with intensified interest every word and passing expression of the patient beside him. At the same time there would be need of great caution. It would be easy now to bring him face to face with Lady Bevan ; and if anything could move the man to the depths of his nature, the meeting with a beloved wife after so long a parting ought to do it. But, on the other hand, unless she were prepared for the meeting, his patient might awaken to the bitter knowledge that he was unrecognized by those dearest to him, and the shock of that perception might have a fatal effect. So the doctor determined that there must be no i M IN Tins HUMOR WOOED i »73 meeting until he had made further inquiries, collected evidence, and prepared the minds of the wife and sister for the astounding^ revelation that the dead had arisen and was about to be restored to their arms. For to day, it would be sufficient to walkthrough the park, and note the effect ui)()n him of paths, trees and landscapes that had been familiar to him from his earliest years. When they had proceeded together a little way on the broad drive, and had turned into a shaded path- way, Somerville purposely dropped a few paces behind, thus allowinj,^ Livingstone to take the lead. He soon perceived that the man walked as if he knew his jrrround. He turned and twisted and went by all kinds of curious paths — in a dreamy way, it is true, and with frequent stoppages to mutter : "It is very strange — very strange." "Take me to the pagoda," said Dr. Somerville, remembering some instructions which Morris had tried to give them as to the best way of seeing the grounds. In the same dreamy way, but without doubt or hesitation in his steps, the man walked to the summer- house where Colonel Quinton had surprised Lady Bevan. The day was bright and clear with a north-easter blowing in one of its softt ^t moods. It was such a day as healthy people find delightful for a long walk, and those who are constrained by circumstances to remain at home are inclined to pace up and down their grounds, whether large or small. Somerville was delighted with the bright look which §■■ ;l ri M m >74 PVAS EVER WOMAN W' came over the face of his poor friend as he passed on, Livingstone altering his ordinary phrase slightly by saying, as he turned round : " Doctor, I know this place. I Jiave been here before. What does it mean ? " *' Look round," said Somervillc. " Point out some- thing to me that I do not see, something that I do not know." The face became clouded for a moment, and then a light shone in it again as they reached the pagoda; and Livingstone tenderly touched a branch of the rose-tree which grew round the windows of the bower. The roses were gone now, but the fragrance of them seemed to remain. " Here," he said, " is a rose-tree, is it not ? Yes — I put it in the ground myself and watched it growing till it came all over the pagoda, and I was very proud of my success. But " There he stopped, and a puzzled Lok returned to his face as if again the mind was wandering in search of something that it could not find. " V/ell, after the rose-tree had grown," suggested Somerville, " what occurred then 1 Can you associate il with anything .'* " " No — and yes," responded Livingstone slowly ; " there was a lady, but I do not know what she was like Wait a bit, doctor, there is something running round my head that makes it feel as if it would burst." Pressing his hands on his forehead lightly he rested against the lintel oi the doorway of the pagoda, whilst Somerville watched him with such intense interest IN THIS HUMOR WOQED ? »75 ed on, tly by 1 here some- it I do d then igoda ; of the bower. ' them Yes- rowing proud ned to search gested sociate ;lowly ; le was lere is > it feel rested , whilst nterest that he did not observe the approach of Aunt Jane, who was being dragged along by the skirt by Sambo. She halted on finding herself in the presence of two strangers, and looked at them in surprise. Sambo released her, and, rushing up to Livingstone, placed his two paws upon his shoulders as if embracing him. Thereupon Somervillc turned and recognized Miss Bevan, who, although not a personal acquaintance, was well known to him. His first feeling was one of pleasure that she had come instead of Lady Bevan, as he did not want his patient to have any too sudden surprise ; his next was one of gratification that the lady should witness the evident affection of the dog for his friend. *' I hope you will not regard us as flagrant intruders, Miss Bevan," he said lifting his hat respectfully. " I had particular reasons for wishing my friend to see the grounds of Warburton, and sent my card to Lady Bevan asking leave to go over them." '• I have no doubt you will be welcome, Dr. Somer- ville," she answered, but her eyes were fixed upon Sambo and Livingstone with bewilderment and terror. Then with a tremulous voice she inquired : " May I ask, sir, who is your friend ? " " If you will allow me, I will introduce you. He is one of my mos'c interesting patients, and he is called Mr. Livingstone." Then turning to the latter he said with emphasis : " Livingstone, this is Miss Bevan, of Warburton." Livingstone, with a motion of hii, hand, put down the dog who lay humbly at his feet. Then with his pleasant smile he bowed to the lady, saying: 176 IVAS EVER WOMAN I: I'-: > ii1 \h I- "It is a pleasure to meet you, madam; and it seems very strange that your name sounds familiar to me. All this place seems familiar to me. How can it be ? I do not understand, but it is a pleasure to me to look upon this place and to meet you. There is something in your face which recalls some- thing that happened ever so long ago somewhere- ■ I don't know where. For you see, although I am so very young, all the things I remember seem to be far back. I cannot tell you why, but they seem to be coming nearer to me as I look upon your face." Aunt Jane made no reply, and for a moment looked at the stranger steadily with evident agitation. Then her eyes dropped to the dog, and she said, in a voice which seemed to quiver with the pulsation of her heart : " Sambo, come here." The dog looked up with his kindly eyes, wagged his tail, but did not move from his place at the feet of the stranger. •' Sambo ? — Sambo ? " said Livingstone in his kindly voice and dreamy way. " I ought to know that name. Sambo, speak to me. Tell me —is this your mistress } " He held out his hand and the dog placed a paw in it as if he knew that it was the hand of a friend. Aunt Jane was trembling as she advanced a pace and place her hand upon the arm of the man whose appearance had so affected and puzzled her. " You say your name is Livingstone, sir ! Will you tell me if you ever had any relatives named Bevan ; for you bear such a strong resemblance to our family that I cannot believe it is quite accidental ,-* " si;i IN THIS HUMOR WOOED ? 177 nd it iar to How asure you. iome- crc- • im so to be cm to cc. ookcd Then . voice heart : agged le feet kuidly : that is this Daw in friend, ce and whose ill you ^cvan ; family Somerville was keenly observant but remained silent. He wished to note what effect these words would have upon the man who, although so stran altered, he now believed to be the lost baronet of Warburton. But the man smiled helplessly and shook his head as he murmured : " I cannot tell you. I am sorry ; but I seem to have no friends except Dr. Somerville. He brought me from someplace in the middle of the sea, and has been kind to me. But I know nothing about it. You must ask him, and he will tell you all that is known about me." Aunt Jane looked searchingly into the smiling face, and then, with a sigh, turned to Somerville. " You will excuse the absurd fancy," she said in a tone of disappointment and regret ; " but the resem- blance is so singular and the voice so similar that, if it were not for the grey hairs and the aged look of the face, I should have thought this man was my brother come to life again in some mysterious way. Please tell me what you know about him." " Brother, brother," muttered Livingstone as he stooped to pat the dog who responded with affec- tionate caresses. " There once was somebody who used to call me brother; but she, too, is gone away like all the other things. It is very strange, but I don't know who it was called me brother, and yet we wxTe very fond of each other. Now that I look, at you — " He stopped and shaded his eyes with one hand as if peering into a great space. The hand dropped and he stooped down again to pat the dog whilst he n^ent on in a tone of childish indifference; I7« IK'IS EVER WOMAN r ■ffl 'I R ' "No, I don't understand. I cannot see her face — it is very strange." " Wait there, Livingstone, till I come back for you,** said Somerville in his kindly but peremptory manner, " Oh, yes, I have a nice friend here," said Living- stone, as he held the two paws of the dog in his hands. "■ Now, Miss Bevan," continued Somerville, " if you will walk a little aside with me, I will tell you all that I know about my friend — what I imagine and suspect I dare not yet express. You must forgive my reservation as, until complete proofs are in my hands, I dare not speak, lest I should raise false hopes or unintentionally impugn the character of a person of some position." " I will be content with whatever you please to say at present ; but you must expect to hear from me in a few days," she answered with subdued agitation, her eyes still turning to the stranger who was playing with. Sambo. He then explained how, on the return passage from his holiday trip to the Cape, Livingsto.ie had been picked up, but he carefully refrained from any reference to the conviction w^hich had grown upon him that this man was her brother. She thanked him and left them to continue their wanderings in the grounds, but her eyes turned back again and again to the white-haired old man whose appearance had so strangely impressed her. At the end oi a le.ify avenue, Somerville and his companion came up' -" ^\vvever, a woman prompt in action, she wrote at once to JVh , "^^theredge, of Chorlwood, asking him to come to her. When he came she explained to him the meeting she liad had with Dr. Gomerville's strange patient. Ktheredge, i^^ his good-natured way, sympathized with her feelings, but was utterly sceptical about the possibility of her hope being reah'zed. He pledged himself, however, to be entirely at her service, and, in the meanwhile, he despatched a telegram to his friend. Will Nethersole, asking if he liad yet obtained any information about the missing baronet of Warburton. Somerville was also active, and as Colonel Quinton had referred him to Mr. Etheredge, of Chorlwood, as his friend, he had some communication with that gentleman as well as with Miss Bevan. Then on a cold October day, with mist rising from the ground IN THIS HUMOR WOOED 7 I S3 missinfj and dark sky overhead, he presented himself aj^ain at the manor. By arrangement with Aunt Jane, l'^thered<:;c was there. He was talking in a fidc;cty way with l\Ir. Hollett, who was much perplexed by the mystery which seemed to surround the house. IJert was talkinrr o to Colonel Ouinton, ami perfcctK' unconscious of the anxiety which overshadowed e\-erybody about Jiim. Dr. Somerville entered alone, liavinij left his friend Livingstone with Dr. Pcttigrew and another man f)n the lawn. Everything had been arranged between Aunt Jane and himself as to how the)' were to act and what they w ere to do. "This is my sister," said Aunt Jane, introducing Lady Bevan to Somerville as he entered. " I have a somewhat awkward duty to perform, madam," said the doctor, bowing; "and I believe that you are more interested in it than myself." "Proceed, sir," said Lady Ik'van looking in much astonishment alternately at Aunt Jane and Dr. Somer- ville. The latter spoke with a feeling of much considera- tion, whilst his eyes were fixed on Colonel Ouinton. **It is a strange story, madam, and I do not know how to prepare you for what will be a great and perhaps a painful surprise. You, I\Tr. Hollett, as the father of this lady, have the right to ask Colonel Quinton to repeat his narrative of the death of your son-in-law, Sir Hubert Bevan." Quinton turned round sharply and answered with surprise mingled with indignation : " 1 have already told my story, sir," he said coldly, "and see no reason for repeating it," II [; I' m |l m ;ii i if?4 r/v/.v /.r/r/' jroMA.y Ouinton was a tall man, broad-shouldered, stiong of limb, and he lifted himself to his full height as he made this response with an evident sense of indignant surprise. Somerville was a little man but endowed with great nervous vigor, and he went straight up to the colonel with a quiet smile on his face. " Pardon me, sir," he said, as he took his hand, '•permit me to lead you to this lady and ask you to repeat again how you parted from Sir I lubert Jk^van." The colonel wrenched liis hand away angrily. " We are in the presence of ladies, or you sliould receive the answer suiting to this insult." Somervnic was perfectly cool, and, bowing to the colonel, asked I.ady Jk-van to be seated. •' I said that you were to be prepared for a great and even painful surprise. It is near. Have you thought it possible that one who is very dear to you is still alive ?" Lady Ik^'an started to her feet and Aunt Jane instantly clasped her arms around her. " What do you mean } " she gasped, frightened and trembling. " Come, look there. Do you see that man .'' Do you recognize nothing.'' " Ouinton was the first to make a movement towards the window ; but he was checked by Etheredge, who, grasping him firmly by the arm, whispered in his cir: " Now then, old chappie, we want to see the end of this. Don't you spoil sport, because Miss Bevan has asked mc to act as her second here ; and I mean to do it. So, if there's nothing wrong, you be quiet." IN THIS HUMOR WOOED? 185 Lady Bcvan saw Dr. Pcttic^rcw stand incr by the side of a wliitc-haircd man who was seated on tlic ground l)la}inf:j with Ik'rt. \x. a sii^nal from Somcrvnllc, they advanced to the house. When they came up, Somcr- ville again asked, " Do }'ou not recoj^nizo him ? " Lady Bcvan was cHnginj^ round the neck of Aunt Jane and murmuriuL,^ to liersclf — " What docs this mean ? Tliat is not Hubert." But Bert, burstin^^ in dragging the old man by the hand, sliouted loudly, "Mamma, mamma, here is grandpapa," and rushed directly to the picture gallery. After a brief pause of astonishment the others followed and found Livingstone standing in the space left vacant by the removal of Sir Hubert's portrait, whilst i^crt was pointing excitedly at the picture of his grandfather. The resemblance was so striking that all were amazed, and even Quinton was staggered. *' See," said liert, " is not this grandpapa come back to us r Lady Bewin was trembling in the protecting arm of her sister-in-law. " Can it be ? " she whispered gaspingly. " Hush — and wait. Go on, Dr. Somerville." Livingstone was still standing in his place, smiling and patting the boy's head tenderly. "The first thing I have to do, Lady Bevan, is to read this telegram, received by our friend Mr. h'the- redge, from Zanzibar : " Called on the consul. A 7nan named Siurgis came to him ivith a grey-haired man ivJio, lie said, ivas his master t Sir Hubert Bevan. They sailed for England IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 1.25 ■a; 121 |2.5 |5o "^" UWM ■^ ^ |2.2 2.0 1.1 r.-^i ^ IIIIJ4 V] /a % ^7). 0%. ■ i> y s Photographic Sdences Corporation 33 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 873-4503 ^ ^ V ;\ \ d % \ o"^ ^ «> .V4 '*# ^7 U. %° I86 WAS EVE K WOMAN it 4 m in the ship Livingstone ^ which was wrecked and alt hands supposed to be lost. That is all the information at present y "What nonsense !" exclaimed Quinton contemp- tuously, ** when I myself laid him down in the covert. This is a piece of impudent imposture, for Sturgis was lying dead on the ground." "Wait a little, Colonel Quinton. Sturgis was left by you under the supposition that he was dead ; but he was only wounded and had lost consciousness for a time. After that he recovered and was able to attend to his master, whom you left in the jungle as dead. They were taken care of by the friendly natives, and assisted to the coast again after Sir Hubert had recovered from his wounds. In the wreck Sturgis and his master got into different boats, and so it was that, whilst our vessel picked up Sir Hubert, his servant was landed with others on an island. They were rescued by an Australian vessel, and were carried to Sydney. The men have only reached home just now, and their account of what happened is quite clear." " I do not understand what you are driving at," said the colonel coldly ; " but it is difficult for me to realize the truth of what you say.'* All this time Livingstone ^vas amusing himself with the bry and paying no heed to anything that passed. They played together like two children ; the grey-haired man stooping down and allowing the boy to leap on his back and jump over him. But the eyes of Lady Bcvan were fixed upon the man with a mingled feeling of bewilderment and yearning LV Tins HUMOR WOOED ? 187 emotion. Mr. Hollctt, too, was looking at this stranger with curiosity. " I will help you," said Sonicrviilc in response to the colonel as he held up his hand, and Dr. Pettigrew entered acconijjanied by a stalwart man of about fifty odd }'ears. "Sturgis!" exclaimed Lady Bcvan, clinging still more tightly in a frightened way to Aunt Jane. The man, who had uncovered on entering the gallery, answered respectfully : "Yes, your lad)'ship, I'm thankful to say that I've come home again ; and there is the master home before me. He is changed, as you see, in mind and body, and that man is the cause of it all." As he spoke he pointed towards Colonel Ouinton, who stared at him at Hrst with an affrighted look, and then, recovering himself, assumed an expression of pleased surprise. "Well, my man, I am glad to see you safe home again," he said calmly. " It is much more than I could have expected." "Yes, sir," answered Sturgis, '* and much more than you wanted." Mr. Livingstone suddenly raised his head saying, "Sturgis! Sturgi:;! .... I know that name." Then Aunt Jane suddenly drew Lady Bevan tov/ards him and placed her hand tend'^rly upon his. " Look, brother — do you not know us ? " she ejaculated. " Do you not know Jane, your sister — do you not know Nell, your wife? " Livingstone once more stood up against the blank space left by the absent portrait, and his face had i88 IVAS EVER WOMAN II the expression of one slowly awakening from a troubled dream. A liijht seemed to come into his eyes as they rested upon Lady Bevan. He reached out his hands as if seeking something they could not yet find. "Nell? .... Nell?" he almost sobbed. "That was a name I knew, and it was very dear to me." He held out his hands whilst he gazed steadily into Lady Bevan 's face. " Are yon Nell ? " With a great sob of mingled pain and joy she clasped her arms round his neck, crying : ** Hubert, Hubert, you have come home to us at last!" There was a pause ; for every one except Ouinton who witnessed the reunion was silenced by the pathos of it. Bert looked at his mother; then he took her hand, saying to her in childish wonderment: ** What does it all mean, mamma, and why does grandpa stand with such a strange look on his face ? " " I will help you to understand," said Somerville, advancing quickly and taking the child away from the mother and father. Whilst this was proceeding Aunt Jane had beck- oned to Colonel Quinton, and he had followed her outside the doorway. " Everything is known," she said. " Be wise and go." The colonel was wise, and discreetly took his depart- ure at once. He returned to Africa, and nothing more was heard of him except a vague report that he had perished in an encounter with some natives IX THIS HUMOR WOOED ? 189 who, exasperated by an attempt to pass through their territory without paying" tribute, had assaulted his party and slain every one of them. The story which Sturgis had to tell was very sim- ple, and was fully confirmed by Kuruboni. The latter had been engaged to hire a party of natives to meet Sir Hubert and attack him. The result appeared to be fatal ; but, thanks to Sturgis, the master had been preserved and carried to the village of a friendly tribe, where he was carefully attended to and revived. But he lingered for a long time. When at last they made their way down to the coast, he had done his best to explain to the consul what haa occurred. But he was unable to get it understood. He, how- ever, succeeded in getting a passage to England for his master and himself. They, unfortunately, were separated owing to the wreck of the " Livingstone." Sturgis reached England in time to confirm the sus- picions of Dr. Somerville regarding what had occurred to Sir Hubert Bevan. Whilst these explanations were in process, Somer- ville looked with a contented air at his patient. " At last," he said, " we have got a clue to what has troubled my mind so much. There, Pettigrevv — now you know whether it is imagination or common- sense." Aunt Jane took Somerville's hand, pressing it with warm gratitude, whilst speaking with sincere regard. ** You have been a good friend to us, and I hope you will have no reason to regret it. But, tell me, will my brother recover ? " " I believe he will, only you must give him time." IQO IV/iS EVER WOMAN" The young squire of Chorlwood had felt a lump rise in his throat as he saw the long- parted husband and wife clasped in each other's arms. Irritated by his own unusual emotion, he turned towards one of the windows of the gallery, and found some relief in a few words of strong language addressed in an undertone to the misty landscape. Presently he became aware that Miss Bcvan was by his side, and at the same moment it occurred to him that he had neglected his charge. " Forgive me, Miss Ikwan," he said in some per- turbation ; "a fellow don't like to intrude on that sort of thing. But where is our quarry ? " " He is gone," replied Aunt Jane. " I warned him. It is better so — better for all of us. Do you not see ">. " " Yes, yes — of course," stammered Etheredge, for, by some subtle effect of sympathy, he had perceived Aunt Jane's secret, and at the same time realized that she had become to him something quite differ- ent from all other women. The peculiar position in which he had been placed towards her during these past weeks had changed a pleasant acquaintanceship into a close friendship, and Etheredge now became aware that he was a changed man. The joys of bachelorhood had lost their glory, and his one wish was to have this woman for his wife. Meantime, while she thanked him for all his kind- ness and help, he felt dejectedly that his occupation was gone, and that she had no further need of his services. As he rode towards his home he kept muttering bets against his chances of winning this IN THIS HUMOR WOOED ? 191 treasure he had set his heart upon, and turnincj over in his mind plans for proving to licr that he was still her knight. Suddenly it flashed upon him that there was still a service left for him to perform, and although it was more directly of the nature of a service to Lady Bevan, he felt sure that it would be most grateful to Annt Jane. He had had something to do with spreading the story of Colonel Quinton's engagement to Lady Bevan. Who better than he, who had been a witness of the touching reunion with Sir Hubert, could help to turn the current of public opinion in the right direction } So valiantly did he work at his self-imposed task that long before the baronet was sufficiently restored in mental health to have comprehended such rumors, had any one been cruel enough to approach him with them, the tongue of fame was busy with the tale of the constant love which had welcomed the wanderer, and many a husband privately confided to himself that, were he to be lost in a similar way, he could by no means reckon upon such a home-coming. Of course thj evil-minded tried to keep the idle tale of the past alive ; but their poisonous whisper- ings were drowned in the general approbation of the loving care and devoted attention which Lady Bevan never failed to show to the beloved husband who had been restored to her arms. But although she had never in one thought been false to the love which she bore Sir Hubert, she did not escape some stings of remorse for having even harbored the thought that it was possible she might 193 JV^S EVER WO MAS'' yield to the mysterious power which this wicked man had succeeded in obtaining over her through the very depth of her love for husband and son. It was some time before Bert forgot his hero ; but a child is generally fickle, and he had found a new playmate whom he could command as he chose, and who was never tired of gambolling with him and Sambo. By-and-bye father and son were daily to be seen riding together, and the sight of the white- haired man with the pretty boy drew many a tear from the kindly countrywomen who knew their story. Aunt Jane did not go back to Ivy Lodge after all ; for there were many things in which her shrewd, business-like ways were useful and indeed indispen- sable during the slow return of Sir Hubert to perfect health. The affection between the two sisters was deepened by the knowledge which each had of the other's suffering, and Aunt Jane found so much to do and so many people to think of that she had no time to think of her own troubles or of her own future. No doubt she was firmly convinced that Miss Bevan she would remain until her dying day ; bat perseverance and devotion had made a lady change her mind before, and perhaps the chances of Squire Etheredge may improve as time goes on. Etheredge took advantage of these possibilities, and, although usually a careless fellow, was in this case careful. The result was that meeting Aunt Jane one summer day on the meadow he asked her to stop a minute with him. " Why so } " she asked in a little surprise, and yet d man rh the ; but a new se, and m and aily to ; white- r a tear ir story, fter all ; shrewd, idispen- ) perfect eepened other's o and so time to re. No van she verance er mind heredge abilities, Ithis case [ane one to stop a /.\' /'///.s iir.MOK ir(H}/.n? ">3 not without an instinctive fcciinij of what he was goini( to sa)'. Ktlicrcdj^c was puzzled and anuised because he knew very well what he was ijoing to say, only did not know exactU' liow to say it. **Well, Miss Ik'van, I was i^oini^ to say — will vou pardon me ? " " For what ? " asked y\unt Jane with pretendetl surprise, knowinj^ (juite well what was to follow. liltheredge hesitated and asked her to i;ive him lier hand. " I don't know liow I am to tell you ! " he said stupidly. " l^ut you know, we fellows act in an odd way. You, liowever, ha\e altered nie. Will you take me as I am ? " " I am <^rateful to you, Mr. ICthered^e. ^'ou hav^c been the best friend 1 ever had, and if this hand is •worth yours, take it." What followed need not be told. THE END. B'LOOD' Bitters THE KEY TO HEALTH unlocka ull the clojr{r<-(i i-ocretions of the tStonuicli, Liver, LBowels and Blooil, earn ing olF sill humors n;i(l |inipurilie3from iheeniire system, rorrectirig Acid- ity, and curing ]jiliousiic.~>!, Dysnepsi'i Sick flead- aclic, Conslipalion, Jihi uinatism, l)r ipsy, Dry Skin, Dizzines=», Jaundici', Heartburn, iN'ervotia land General Debility, ^\\\t Rheum, Erysipelas, [Scrofula, etc. It ])urifio-i and erHdiciitcs fmm the Blood a'l poi3onou3 hum6r.>, from a commoa Pimple to the worst Scrofulous Sore. and yet FLUIDIBEEF THE GREAT ^< ^;MAN•'S ,v. oo> . BKCAUBF : EMlIy Digested by the WEAKEST STOMACH. Useful in domeitio eeonomj formaktng delicioueBeefTM^ enriching Grariefl and 8oups, I " COMEDY OF A COUNTRY HOUSE." By Juliait'ns by introducing Andrew West wood as a prisoner accused of murder, he being sentenced to death, although he protested his innocence. The victim of the murder was Sydney Vane, a wealthy landlord, while his supposed m .rderer was an acknowle "A DAUGHTER OF ST. PETER'S. llY Jankt C. Conger. (.Mi<«.. Wm ( <>\ Ai i.i'N.i la I'tiper Covor, :i() Ceiitii. " ( lolli " flO " Lovell's Canadian Authors* Series- No. 60. The .iiitluHcss is .1 Canadian, anl licr story is ivmaikahly well toUi. ~—Ad7!eitisi'i\ Londdii. In this work a new aspirant for literary honors in the field of fiction makes her (irst appearance before the public. The story which she tells is n.'itlier lenylhy n(jr involved. It is a simple, prettily told story of love at first siyht, with a happy endinj^, and little to divert the mind of the reader from the hero and heroine. Mrs. Conner's literary style is pleasing, and her production evidences a well cultured mind and a tolerable appreciation of character. Iler book will be Hjund very pleasant reading;. — '■'■ lutelli^enceiy' l!elleville. The pint is injjeniously constructed, and its working out furnishes the opportunity for some dramatic situations. The heroine, of whose early life the title givjs us a hint, is creature all j^race and tenderness, a true ofTsprinj; of the sunny so.ith. The hero is an American, a man of wealth, and an artist in posne. The (A\\