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Rained or fond/ n; 0Showthrough/ Tramparanca ' □ Quality of print aariat/ Qualiti in«9ala da I'impratsion □ Continuous pagination/ Pagination eontinua indax(a33 •57 177 '93 307 331 333 361 »77 389 »97 343 363 381 397 4»5 SIRIUS SIRIUS CHAPTER I ri -i^'f.f''''^ *''"* y°" """'^ '="'=y him, -Phyllis," said Gladys Wmterton with a sigh; "he would be such a suitable husband for you." •* I should hate what is called a ' suitable ' husband " replied her sister Phyllis scnrnfully. " Think of tak- ing a husband as you would take Bovril, or Somatose °oul" ""^"^ *^°^°*~*''"P'^ "'^'^"'^ ^^ '^"''ed' ^^"Well. I should prefer a suitable husband my- " Of course you would, because there is no romance about you, and the greater the unsuitability the greater the romance. To you suppose that Romeo and Juliet would ever have become a classic, if the Montagus and the Capulets had walked home together from church every Sunday mommg, and dined at each other's houses in a friendly way once a fortnight? Or that King Co- phetuas name would be a household word, if he had kingdom?* ''" '"^""' ''"""'' *""" *'"' "«'-d°or But the sensible Gladys stuck to her own opinion. Oh! that sort of thing is all very well in books; but you don t get half as much fun out of the trousseau and «je wedding-presents in an unsuitable marriage as you 3 Sirius do in a suitable one. And the presents aren't so expen- sive, either," she added as an afterthought " Who cares about the trousseau and the presents, you silly, as compared with the man? " " They don't do instead of him, of course-at least, LT°'' ''?7,r,r'<'°'t-b"t they are very nice as well, don t you think ? " .S ^1- ''°",'' ' '° "^ '°^' ■" *•"= °"'y important thing, and nothmg else matters at all. If I loved a man I should be happy with him in West Kensington and penury; and ,f I didn't love him I should be bored to death m luxury and Park Lane." " Well, Phil, if love is your special line, surely Am- brose Maxwell is an adequate husband; for no man could be more devoted to a girl than he is to you." Phyllis shrugged her shoulders. " Oh I I know that w-ell enough: it isn't he who falls short-it is I. He adores me, I am fully aware; but I don't adore him and that is the head and front of his oflfendin? " " That isn't his fault." " You stupid child, who blames people less for a thing because it isn't their fault? If people irritate me. the fact that they can't help it only serves to irritate me the more. It is so feeble and inefficient not to be able to help things." " Still a husband who adored one would be rather nice, I think," wistfully remarked Gladys, who was the plain sister, and had had the measure of life meted out to her accordingly. "Not if you didn't adore him: the fonder he was of you the more he'd bore you. Oh I it would simply bore m? to death to be married to a man who wore no ^ i Sirius ondelr'TV r^"''° ""' ='°"^^** '" "° glamour of Idealism Th.nk what it would be to see a man as he actually ,s, and to see him three hundred and sixty! five days out of every year! " ' "Of course, the less money a man had, the more We you'd want; I can see that: but if he'd plenjof money and a good position, I should have thought that a httle love would go a long way." ^ "The longer way it went, the better I should be infL'^r "^^'t '^"'"^ " ^^"' ■' ^^'^'"^ "° "«e argu- ng w.th you; but if you don't take care you'll go .1 ough the wood, and have to put up with'the pro- verbial crooked stick in the end." crolL'^""'* '"'"• ^''^ ""'^^ •'"^^ « ^t'=k that was crooked n my own particular style of crookedness, than sUiSls.""^^' ^"°^''"^ *° °*- ^-•'■^•^ '^- °^ Whereupo,, Phyllis went out of the room, leaving Gladys to meditate upon that insoluble problem as to why as the Spanish proverb puts it, heaven so persiS ently sends almonds to those who have no teeth. Now all th7i„H r "T'l- "'"^ ' •'^^^y -*«= °f 'hankZ an the good thmgs wh.ch Ambrose Maxwell laid at he s«ter s feet, and which Phyllis declined to pick up. I t^f 1T^ hard, therefore, that the oblation was poured out at Phylhs's feet and not at hers. If Phyllis had taken he goods that the gods bestowed. Gladys would have looked on at her sister's superior luck whhout a touch crumbs which dropped so continually from Phyllis's Sirius better furnished toble. and whereof nobody had appar- ently any advantage at all. Ambrose Maxwell had been in love with Phyllis Winterton ever since he had met her at the county ball three years ago. In the beginning her beauty had struck him and captivated his fancy; and afterward her wit and high spirits had riveted the chains. But perhaps the thmg about her which charmed him most, was her per- fKt her exuberant, health. The interesting-invalid type o herome has gone out of fashion nowadays-the sort of woman who enveloped herself in a shawl, and was wafted heavenward on smelling salts : now, the attractive woman has a sound body for casket to her sound mind, and she never owns that she is ill until she is well-nigh dead. Delicacy is as antiquated as chignons and crino- hnes; and the Lydia Languishes of to-day are sur- rounded by trained nurses instead of by adoring swains. Perhaps the pendulum-as is the way of pendulums- has swung too far in the opposite direction : perhaps the modem woman's defiance and disregard of anything in the form of dehcacy, is sometimes suicidal in its tend- ency : nevertheless no one can deny that the error is on the right side ; and that the woman of to-day, who laughs and dances so that the world may catch no glimpse of the fox gnawing at her vitals, is a finer creature than her grandmother who openly succumbed to megrims, vapoi s, and the like. At any rate so Ambrose Maxwell thought; and the majority of his contemporaries are of the same opinion. It was at her coming-out ball that Ambrose fell in love with Phyllis Winterton ; and ever since then he had wooed her persistently, in spite of the indifference with 6 i Sirius which she looked upon his suit. Over and over again he had asked her to marry him ; and over and over again she had refused. He was an excellent match for her in every way: good-looking and of average intelligence, with a fine estate which marched with her father's The whole county approved the union, and greatly blamed fhyllis for bemg an obstacle in the way of it. Even so pretty a girl as herself was hardly likely to do better- and as Ambrose was only six years her senior, there was no mequality anywhere. It seemed to be one of those marriages which, according to tradition, are made m heaven, but not carried out on earth— the fate of other arrangements besides matrimonial ones. If only earth would second heaven's resolutions, what a much more comfortable earth it would be I But earth is too fond of passmg amendments, as they say in the House of Lommons, when heaven's bills are brought before it— an amendment being always an alteration very much for the worse. In spite of Phyllis Winterton's coldness, Ambrose did not lose hope; he kept assuring himself that such laithfulness as his was bound to win her love in time— and there is no doubt that constancy is an enormously powerful factor in the compelling of a woman's love. Hut the gods saw otherwise (as the gods have a way of seeing), and did not try Ambrose Maxwell's patience too far. '^ Phyllis was one of those women who are endowed with a great fund of romance. The ordinary attractions of what people call " a comfortable settling in life " did not appeal to her. She felt she must love, as such women can love; and, given this, she thought she was 7 Sirius practically independent of outside thing.. To every va rSr T' ' ""''"'= '"' '"e^i^ing, need^S nr7- IV ^^"'"'^'"- I' is well for those who are ordamed by nature to choose the better part: but it U ex redely „1 for those who-being made, hy no , u of the.r own, of coarser and commoner material-chooi iehbeme f " "°T '"' """8^' •"^ " "nderstood-the deliberate choice of an evil thing must always be ac- counted sm: but woe to those who, being made of sec ond-rate material, choose the best instead ofThe second best given always that the second-best, a ts name .mpl.es, IS also good, but in a lesser degreefThe 7Z iToSs". ? "'°r' °"^'^ own'Iimi.aSns.'S arrange ones lot-as far as in one lies-accordingly. is uLoubt°edr" T'"" '°"' " °' ^"P™-"* ™P««>-e " undoubtedly a finer creature than her sister, to whom rank and wealth .rore powerfully appeal; a^d she wW become finer still if she follows her h^iven^sent instLrt and develops more fully the better part of her nature by leaving the comfortable high-road'of life for the lad-' de which IS set up from earth to heaven. But her sis'er will not. therefore, do well to follow her examo e On th! ™,y, it is a fatal mistake for a second bt woman hiThestir^^rr /" "-^^ "^^' *"-«•' "~ nignest-to make, out of a sense of duty, the choice etr ZZrT' '°, "" ""'^ spiritual flL-r! Dace- W f ? ^"■"f^rt^ble high-road is the proper pace, her feet are not formed to tread in the footsteos of angels, and her head grows dizzy as she sSs^he late, that she is neither poetic nor ideal, and that it is in & ;! Sirius the comfortable and the prosaic that her true happiness hra. Much has been said and written of the tragedy which underlies the life of the romantic .calist, who sms agamst her own idealism, and gains the whole world m exchange for the soul with which God has en- dowed her— the soul which was made of better material than ordmary, and meant for higher things: but not enough notice has been taken of that other tragedy— whereof there arc scores in this vvorld-when the woman with a second-class soul chooses, from principle, the highest path, and finds it to. d for her. For her there is no admiration, no sympathy : instead of praising her for her choice and pitying her for her inability to live up to It, men and women condemn her for so far falling short of the ideal she once misguidedly set up. Of a truth, it is sad to see the heavenly vision, and afterward to be disobedient unto it; and such as do this are worthy of blame. But should not a lesser meed of censure be bestowed upon those who see no visions of angels, and yet endeavour, though in vain, to walk in the more excellent way? Is not their failure to be pitied rather than condemned? To Moses, who had stood beside the burning bush, there was no terror in the wilderness or on the desolate shores of the Red Sea : but the common people, who had but followed at his bid- ding, prayed to be let alone in order that they might serve the Egyptians once more, and go back into slavery. And the God, Who had made them, did not punish them for this : He went before them, and the An- gel of His Presence saved them, and led them through the midst of the sea upon the dry ground. And, further It 18 written that at last the people entered into the prom- 9 Siriui ihefl«h';;:!''%'r'""" ^^''^^ ^^^ '••«' »«"'««*<> •'ter 1 r,tf i*^ M°' ^«''" ■"'' ^^"^ ''°*'» b^'or* the gold- ..«„ • K .^°'"' *''° '•■'' '"■''• 'h. voice of God .ml r^r bui'w '° '■*■ "" °"'^ •■" ""'• «" c—" -"h vvi u :• *" ""' permitted to go over thither W Inch things are an allegory. "" CHAPTER II "I HATE that dog of the Strangewayi." PhylH, «id one day to Ambrose, who had overtak Jher on he^ ^t liome from the village. " T "?,°y°"' f »"• 8° 'orry the brute annoys you. and would soon relieve you of his presence i' UoM- but I spoke about him to Strangeways the other d^^old h.m how the animal hangs about the road and sn». .t pas.rs-by-and Strangeways did not Uke it af.'! "How horrid of him I But people nearly alwavs are sensitive about their dogs. so^Lw, fm .' they are about their children and their bicycled. I have 2 feed that if you tell people that their bicycle, ^ke^ "o.se those people are your enemies for life, just as thev are if you say that one of their horses is a roarer I wonder why it is considered such a disgrace for anything belonging to you to make a noise." * "I can't tell why, but it is. I have known a life-Ione fnendship completely broken because a man complamed that h,s next-door neighbour's electric-light machine- dymimo, or whatever they call the thing-was not abs<> IP Sirfus lutely tilent; Ai a matter of fact, the concern wemed to be a cro»« between a thunderstorm and an earthquake ; but its posseator had convinced himself that it was the embodiment of silence, and could forgive no one for dis- puting this tenet." " Telling people that any of their possessions make a noise seems to b« on a par with telling them that they themselves snore ; and that is an insult which blood will not wipe out," said Phyllis. " And they don't enjoy it if you mention that you find an incessant cough on their par* in any degree breaks the thread of your meditations," Ambrose added. " Ah ! we arc, after all, only ostriches of a smaller growth ; we bury our heads in the sand, and think no- body has any id?a that we've got colds in them.' They walked on in silence for a time, and then Am- brose said suddenly: " Phyllis, I w;sh you could marry me. Can't you, dear?" Phyllis shook her head. " I don't love you vdu see; that's the bother." " I know ; but surely I love you so much that it is enough for both." " No, your love for me wouldn't be enough to inter- est me and keep me amused. Don't you understand? To be loved by a person whom you don't love in return, is duller than playing double-dummy whist, or learning the alto of a part-song when there is nobody to take the treble." " But, my dear, I love you so much." Phyllis felt distinctly irritated; why couldn't he un- derstand? " I know you do— that is what I keep say- ing; but your love for me only bores me as long a-^ • tl Sirius don't love you in return. I know it is horrid of me to «y h.s " she added by way of apology, seeing how whit^ h.s face grew at her words; "but you don't seem to understand, unless I am positively brutal." Still Ambrose persisted: "But I would make you so happy-and I could do that, Phyllis, I am sure I could. You should have everything you wanted all your hfe, and I wou d never bother you to love me if you trTT T 'n^°"''^ ^' enough-more than enough —for me to be allowed to love you." " ^"t it wouldn't be enough for me. And I don't want to have eveo^thing I want; nice women never do, they only want the man they love to have every- thmg he wants." ^ "■ u/,f ^f • ^ '^""'^ ""'''' y°" '° ^^ 3« "i" as all that " Well I am; I can't help it. And it isn't really n.ceness at all; it is just the way you're made. I^ vouldnt make me happy just to be happy; it would only make me happy to know that I was making some body else happy-somebody whom I loved better than I love myself. Don't you see? " But Ambrose, it is to be feared, did not see. He could not understand why his love should not satisfv Fhylhs-with so much of worldly advantage thrown in as he was prepared to give her. Even Phyllis herself did not qia,te understand this: she only knew that it was so; that she was so made that nothing but love could safsfy her-love given, that is. not merely love received It ,s delightful to be loved, as everybody knows ; but to love brings the greater happiness. While the two were thus pondering over the per- versity of human nature in general and Phyllis Win- 13 I Sirius V tmon's in particular, the Strangeways' dog turned into the high road from a lane, and came running toward them. J' There's that brute again!" exclaimed Ambrose. What a nuisance the creature is I " ^ "He looks rather funny to-day," Phyllis rejoined. bee how his tongue is lolling out, and how queerly he runs. " I don't like the looks of him at all. I shall have to speak to Strangeways again pretty sharply, whether he hkes tt or whether he doesn't." As the dog drew nearer it was obvious that there was something very wrong with him indeed. Phyllis felt dreadfully frightened, and Ambrose distinctly un- comfortable; and they could not get out of his way as there was no opening in the ^edge on either side. When he was close to them something in Phyllis's ap- pearance seemed to excite his ire, for he suddenly stood stock still, and then made a rush at he- But Ambrose was too quick for hit,^ When the infuriated animal was close to the giri. Maxwell stooped down and seized him by the throat, and held him there m spite of all his struggles. Phyllis shrieked aloud for help, and in a few seconds some labourers from an ad- joining field rushed to their rescue and beat out the creature's brains with their spades ; but not before Am- brose's right hand had been badly bitten in his encounter with the mad dog. Phyllis was trembling all over. " Oh I you're hurt," she cried, as soon as she was able to speak. " Whatever can I do for you ? " " Never mind me," said Ambrose in a soothing tone, «3 Sirlus though his face was very pale- •' T'm i. • ,. I think I'J] go straight hc,S a ^" "S^""- B«t ride to the doctS so S he ^1 " """^ '""' ♦hen without any loss of't!m?' '"" "'='' "'* '"« "» ;; Yes-go, go; don't waste a minute." of theXTorh;7or /°^ ''' '' - -'^ ^^^ - but".o°oLr; «f a!?" '°"' """^ '"'-' -. " I sav Tn ^°" , ""^ y"""" P"""" hand." gets iSCelnTanothr T ''^' "''^^ ^■"*^«- and tell them to Sle ° Jo ^ """ °" '° "^ P''"^" np there almost as '' " "" " °""' ^'" ''^ throwing ™is unZ a IT '"''" ^«*«=" «id. the assembTed men °""''' "^"^ " '^* ^W"-gs to phy^st'itr httr-^' 1!!^ »"= -<> eyes which he had never Teln hef^ "'"! " '*^'' '" ^'' considered amply repaid w^f ^[T* '°°'' "^''^ ^e •ng or was going to sSer ^ '"' "■^' "-^ ^'^ -«- satioi.tr n^ss'^'^r 'r^^"'^" ^-'^ ^ - for and sympa2 with him ' ""'' *.^' P""''= ^''•"'■•^"■°'' that the .-Tdttr^txThrwrdtrTo '"°^'' inoculation " "'"^'^ ^'"'♦^"'- f"*- *« course of Phyllis heard of this fiat r.n fi, catastrophe. Her father w.n! ♦•''"^ ^"^ "' *e and leam what the 2a doctor h'H'""-:^ """ '^""'^°^^ who brought back th^ i I ^^. '^"^' ""'^ '* '^"s he for Paris that St. ' ''"' ''"'**" *«^ ^t»«i"« 14 Sirius Without a moment's delay Phyllis slipped out of the oom and out of the house, and hurried as fas as her feet could carry her to Maxwell Grange She feh for%Ta?hrhatr^^ "^T "^ ^^' -^ ^^^ ZTw u ""*• ^"*' '^^ '"'' n°' only want to thank hnn; there was another feeling than gratitude now m th .girl's heart. The sight of Ambrose Trlorta danger and for her sake, had done what all his Sh h^H n?"^'' P'"°""' ^^^"^ ^"d devotion to herself had faded to do It had made her suddenly love the man eT^:' h ™if"''Ur tr r '™^'*^ "''^•' --'^"^ toward h7m h,^ K "" ' ''^'"g-her whole attitude urTlA r "T" completely transformed by his unseWsh hero.sm. He had been ready to give his Hfe TrSl'totm "rr,^"^ T ''^'^ '° giveM: ttS at ait and n I '"''' '^' ^"^ ^""^"^ ^°' ^ad come at last, and now she was convinced that Ambrose Max- iLdSe. ""^'^ '-' '"^''-'^'y - >°"^ - they two " Mr. Maxwell was upstairs packing," the butler said ■nto the library to wait for Ambrose. He answered W summons at once, and came downstair^ aTfasttt you'I^'he y'f ^°r^''y"-. thi' is indeed good of 1^1 A Tu ''"''^' """''"S: ner with outsfretched hand; and although his face was drawn with paTn and with undefined fear, nothing could wipe out of'hTeyes the^gladness which Phyllis had called into them bylr She kept his hand in he,., and looked up into hi, face. I have come to thank you for saving my life," 'S Sirius ten you .L aX I^'t;ou •.'°" '"" ''''''• ^^^ *° '• Thesis Lt • r^r ^ ^''•^' -"-^'^ '- ^o"" and the dog-star my euidW T' '" ''""'^ ""^ ««"''. born under Sirius an^dhilfr'" J """'' "^^^ •'=^" Phyllis shudde^d" Oh fn?"^''* ""^ '"'=''•" beast," she crS ' It is ° ''°" ' *='"' °^ *''^' dreadful are sufferingJand fo! L^°"^ '° "^ '° "^"^ '^at you I a« tuSgtr;;„t sir "r r "^^ '- ^''- outof thepain% Swee^h^r « ' *"'" "" *« ^""S fering whe' it i borne fory'u'"*r^ "^^^^ *° "« ^-^ Phyllis clung to him wee^i '""I^'S:/?-" . you are, how good you arei H^ u „ t ^°'^ S°°^ to repay your goodn^s to L- '''" ' ^^^^ "^ =""' «ve:^'brK^'a^?:;-ixs^[^^- ;:i^n:;°-;SdSa;7-t--s Ambrose stroked her curly hair tender'y. "My i6 Sirius „ A thousand years if you like." nnrry me. art ih. ,om,„ ,,„ i', ., " "' ""'• » Pm. - Phdirr 'T' r° •■ '"" "»• '"k l™ CHAPTER III which are general Lt .v*"'"^ '''■''■'°^=-'«'^"- generally, from a hterary point of view, the 17 Sirius best things that a woman ever does write. And they ^nn'f^ T °'' *°"''*rf""y. *ith their girlish gossip and their shy avowals of love; as indeed they ought to have done, smce they took up aU Phyllis's thoughts and more tlian half her time. When she was not actually engaged m writing to her lover she was thinking over what she was going to write to him ; and as soon as she had posted one day's letter, she straightway began to compose the next. ^ She had been an unconscionable time in falling in love; but, having at last succeeded in doing so, she had done It thoroughly, which is not unusually the case with the women whose wooing has been long in doing. She was intensely grateful to Ambrose as well as bring de- votedly attached to him; but. for all that, she hardly realized how sore was the trial through which he was now passing_an experience specially painful to a man the life of the body was so strong. There is no doubt that our own flesh is dearer to some of us than to others. Even though " there was Z7Jnr'''^!^^°^l"' "''" '^""'•^ '"'^"'^ the toothache patiently, the toothache does not afflict all alike One man-be he philosopher or not-can bear it with a very air show of equanimity, if at the same time fortune is smilmg upon him m other ways; while to another man boddy anguish takes all the joy out of life, even if his heart s desire be at that moment within his grasp. And the advantage is not all on the side of t, fonner; for he will always require more than mere physical well-being o make him happy; while, given health and an outdoor hfe, the cup of the latter will be filled to overflowing. Sinus The intellectual man, to whom the ills of the flesh are not of such vital importance compared with other tn" knows notlnng of tlut exuberant thrill of pureToy "he bare fact of being alive, which is so common to his mo e n>atena brethren, and than which, perhaps, there Tno more glonous feeling on earth-that pass'onat deUt m mere existence which makes us to understand why God stufedryr ""' '°''''"- -^ '- --'' tinn^rr M ^^"' ""^^'^ '"°''="' day= s they sit in their musty r th tT""'K r '°°'' '"' '^'^^^'^^ *^ ^-' °f 'he ages that long before a single book was penned or a smgle science formulated, God gathered the wa ers o- gether and cal ed them seas, and He made the dry and appear and bring forth the herb yielding seed and the ruit tree yielding fruit after his kind, and saw that both -re good; and the evening and the morning wt the thet!i*"°'' ^'r"' ^'' '^' *yp« °f ««" to whom the body must always be of more importance than th^ '9 SiritM maid — with whom physical infirmity would completely cancel any amount of intellectual pleasure. And who shall dare to blame him for this ? Did not the most sub- tle of created beings say of the upright and perfect man, " Put forth Thine Hand now and touch his bone and his flesh, and he will curse Thee to Thy Face " ? And does not the enemy, who has been planning man's un- doing with unceasing vigilance throughout the ages, know more about that strange thing we call human nature than do hyper-modem scientists (so called) who uphold that theri is no such thing as physical pain — ^that it is a mere fiction of the imagination ? Satan knew bet- ter than this, when he prayed God to put forth His Hand and touch Job's bone and flesh: S. Paul knew better than this, when he passed triumphantly through per- ils of waters and perils in the wilderness and perils among false brethren, and yet thrice besought the Lord that the thorn in the flesh might depart from him : and the Angel of the Apocalypse knew better than this, when the Great Voice cried out of heaven that in the new heaven and the new earth there should be no more pain. It would hardly be necessary for Almighty Power to make all things new, and begin the great work of cre- ation over again, if the former things which are to pass away were nothing but figmsnts of human imagination ; surely a less fundamental remedy would be sufficient for evils which do not really exist. When Maxwell came home after his visit to Paris, Phyllis was shocked to see the change the last few weeks had wrought in him. His usual high spirits had totally disappeared, and his vitality seemed to be at its lowest ebb ; even his good looks had suffered temporary eclipse 30 Siriu« from the cloud which was overshadowing him. Al- Tr th5' ^'T' ^'' °'"'' ""'^ '"= '«d n°">ing to fear, the.r words brought no comfort to his soul. He had never known a day's illness in his life, and the efore reTeStoT"*'' "''' "^"^ sickness 'was pSS^^ repellent to h.m, as it is to all perfectly healthy orean rs'eiemelvr^'"' *''™"^'' '^"■^ ^^ P^^ man Of , !!'""/ '"'" '° '^' "^^" "^ '"e bravesf man. Of sudden danger and death he had no fear- et'st ad ■' "'"•'" ''''^""' •''' ""^ -- strong a„Ss' but th U H H '"""^ "^^ '"^'^ ""'' ''"P'"^ "at bay dSererthSr*;"''"^'"^' --hanging fread was'a dUferent thing, and was sapping his very life. At first Phyllis's devotion to him knew no bounds hiTad^frr f "^"^r^ '" "^^ -" -- "what ne had sufTered and was still suflering on her behalf- „? 5.. ' P'"'"* '°"°^' ^he was so busy thinT ' best had no power to content her. So she raised her P-n that she had been accounted worthy to a^inunt^ 21 Sirius the liighfst that life has lo offer; and— in her heart of hearts— she applauded the accuracy of that Almighty Wisdom Which had perceived that she was indeed worthy to be thus accounted. But upon Ambrose's present suffering, as compared 1,1 j *''•> her own future happiness, she did not dwell over- much. It is so difficult to eliminate the thought of self from even one's most exalted moments. In the very ecstasy of transfiguration— on the highest summit of the mountain— we are all too ready to exclaim, '■ It is good for us to be here " ; too apt to turn from the glory which is being revealed to notice the effect which its revelation is having upon ourselves. So with us too, as with the Apostles of old, it comes to pass that we are led down again into the valley, where much people meet us with their evil spirits and their want of faith and their dis- putations as to which shall be greatest ; and there we are bidden once more to humble ourselves, and to see how poor a thing is the human nature which we share with our fellows at the foot of the hill, unless it be glorified and sanctified by that Divine Nature which transfigured it upon the mountain top. So the weeks and the months of the year of proba- tion rolled on, and each day found Phyllis more radi- antly happy, and Ambrose mor^ profoundly depressed. At first she was very patient with him, and tried all her pretty arts to woo him back into the light ; but as her efforts met with repeated failure, her patience began to fall short, and she experienced a not altogether unjusti- fiable irritation against him for so persistently looking on the dark side of things, and refusing to avail himself of the comfort afforded by 'he doctors' repeated assur- 22 Sirius ances that in his case Pasteur's treatment had evidently been successful. He did not believe the doctors ; Phyllis coiild see that, an,' it vexed her to watch him deliber- ately makmg himself ill when, if he would only allow it he was in perfect health. He never complained ; he was not the man to do that ; but his depression was so pro- found, and his self-absorption so great, that she could not help but find him a sorry companion. In vain she tned 'o mterest him in the local gossip that used to amuse h.m m times past; in vain she endeavoured to recall him to that delightful world of sport which until now had equally engrossed herself and him; he listened w.th the utmost courtesy to what she said, but evidemly his thoughts were far away all the time. Neither he nor she had ever cared much for books, so books were no resource to them just then; and poor Phyllis was often at her wits' end as to what to talk about with her melan- cnoly lover. h, ^ul". u™''i'"' '°"''' "° '°"S'^'' ''"ff"''' if from herself that her aflFection was beginning to wane. Love can generally survive a short attack, be it never so sharp • but It IS only love of the finest quality that endureth all things for any length of time, and yet never faileth. S>he hated herself, and was heartily ashamed of her gross mgratitude; nevertheless the horrible fact remained hat Ambrose was fast degenerating from a pleasure into a duty. She made a point of seeing him every day, but if by any accident she was prevented from carrying out this programme, there was a half-holi- day sort of feeling in the air whch filled her with ramorse. At last her mental discomfort was so great that she 23 Sirius •ppealed to her .i«er-that frequent refuge for the di.- tressed among feminine souls. "Gladys, do you think it is possible to over-estimate the sUymg-power of love?" "Oh dear I yes; it is possible to exaggerate and over-estimate anything. However strong a thing may be. It loses all its strength if you pretend it is stronger than It really is." f„ '\^'"'' '°^f I?' "' '"■"' '° «° *■««?«' 'han our. for them, said Phyllis, witli the eflFectivc sigh of a pretty woman; "at least, it stands more without smashing." "It stands more in a certain direction, and less in another." " As for instance ? " "It will bear big things better than little things. I believe that there are lots of men who, if the necessity anses will literally lay down their lives for the woman they love; but I don't believe there ever lived a man whose love could stand the test of matching wool. However much a man may adore a woman to begin with he II adore her the less if she gives him a skein of wool, and tells him to go into town and match it exactly " Phyllis nodded. " That's true; and yet a woman will match the exact shade without suffering any diminution in her affection thereby." "Of course she will. Why, we even do things like that for each other-let alone for men-without liking each other any the less in consequence; at least, not much the less." " So we ought, for it seems that the big things are too much for us." Siriui Gladyi looked very wise. " I atwayf knew that big thingi would be too much for me, so I never bothered about them." " But I did. I thought that I was the type of woman who was made for big things, and whom small things would never satisfy." " I know you did ; but I knew you better." " Why on earth didn't you tell me so? " And poor Phyllis fairly groaned. " I did ; I kept telling you so over and over again, but you never believed me. There are heaps of women like you who think that they are made of better material than their fellows, and that their spirits are 'finely touched to fine issues ' ; but they aren't, you know- nothing of the kind." "Oh dear, oh dear! Then don't ,ou believe that any women are as nice as I used to think I was? " " Some ; but precious few." " Well, Gladys dear, at any rate it isn't our fault that we're not perfect." " No; but it was your fault believing that you were, and acting on the belief." Phyllis fairly wrung her hands. "I've no patience," Gladys continued, "with the sentimental, romantic sort of women, who are always crying out for some great thing whereby to show man- kind how exquisitely refined and tender and superior they are. The world is full of them. They are waiting for some fairy prince to come and awaken them from the stupor of misunderstanding into which (according to their own ideas) their family circle has cast them. It never seems to occur tn them that even if the fairy 25 Sirius prince came he would want a f,.v no circumstances would h!v !^ P""""'' ""^ ^o in " I thought was alt:L"'"""5 '° ^° -'" 'hem." fession. '^"^ princess," was Phyllis's con- were. I feel like ol/nrs Burstm who"",, 1 "'"'^^ ^°" her whole household and tnW^ ^'^ ^ """^ with for my servants and I. M',:tm"''^"f™"''' '' ^-' a couple of noodles ! " • I'-^'y ^°" "« ^" °f y°« world of men and women wit '°, T^^ '° *^ their head, and say to th"mk / .^M" 1:: Sirius and that Phyllis was again as indifferent to him as she was before he had lain down his life for her? At last the crisis arrived. One never-to-be-forgotten day Ambrose came to see his promised bride with a look on his face that had never been there before-the look of a man who has borne as much as he can bear, and has resolved at all costs to end a misery which has gone beyond his powers of endurance. " Phyllis," he said, " I have come to release you from your bond : the engagement between us must be bro- ken off." For one brief moment a feeling of intense relief flooded the giri's soul ; then her better nature reasserted Itself, and she began to experience an agony of pity for the unhappy man before her. So it had come at last she said to herself; the doctors were wrong after all, and Ambrose had been right in his conviction that the taint left in his blood by the mad dog would eventually show itself. And, with her intense compassion, a faint shadow of her former love for him returned to her heart. "Ambrose, I will never leave you," she said, laying her hand upon his arm ; " whatever happens I will stay by your side to help and comfort you." It is wonderful how in moments of strong emotion the best that there is in us rises to the surface Maxwell shook off the caressing little hand. " Don't touch me, Phyllis! I'm not fit for you to touch me" My dear, my dear, how can you say such things? Wasn t It for me that you ran into such fearful danger' And am I the one to turn from you when I see you suffenng for my sake ?" 29 MM » Sirius fed that my agony is" ^7./.^ 7 ^°" '°^^ »«=. ^ Phyllis stroked his hair tenderly • her he,r* flowing with pity to see thp cf, ' "^ ^^' "^er- " I could not heblov'n! V ^ *"'" '""""^ht so low. "te-IIy to lay do^f irj.e" ' "" ^°" ^"^^"^^ have helped it then." ' "° "^"'"^n =°uW " Oh, I know! Do you thint it u me that? Haven't I Sn ' necessary to tell since it happened voir nnr ''°"' ?°°^""= '° "^ ^ver of it all has been lost upo^ ^e Yo "h! "^' "°' ^ ^"^P -gd a d n„ one knols Tbettl; thtl "^^" ^ ^^^^^' stands out in its'crud'estSs "I haLT" '"^""= for you," she said simnl,, ■ '^*' ''^^" so sorry done an'ything^the wo^ld to ™T' "'' ' "°""^ "^^ I have unwitfngly tuT/ryru TotffeV" ^°" ^°^ ^^^^ Oh. ;?rcr,.'r,^nrdS;"'^^^'"^"--' " My poor old boy I " ""''"'^ ^°'«'^'^ «'°"i ^^;;ph. Phyms, if only you had not learned to love had repaid his unselfishness - Y^sG.ar """'^ '"^ shew.so„,ym .eofsecondXsTLSS:^ "" ""'*' Pont think of me," she said. 39 •-^f :i .t.i''..*fi Sirius " But I do think of you— I can't help thinking of you— I thnik of you all the time, and it almost kills me to think how unhappy you will be." For a moment Phyllis wished she had not acted her part so well. She had tried her utmost to hide from him the fact that her love was on the wane, and she had succeeded beyond her wildest expectations, "nt, alas ! her success only made his misery the greater ... that the blow had fallen. It touched her to the quick to notice how even now he thought of her rather than of himself; though surely any man might be forgiven for thinking exclusively of himself, with a ghastly death staring him in the face ! Now that Phyllis realized that she was made of second-best material, she wished that Ambrose had been made of second-best material too, it would have made it easier for him to understand her.' But since he did not understand her now, he never must, she decided ; he must go down to his grave believing that she was as true and as noble as himself. So she pulled herself together and made a final eflFort to deceive him anew. " I should have been a despicable woman if I had not loved you, Ambrose, after what happened— a des- picable woman if I ever left oflf loving you ; you know that as well as I do." Ambrose fairly shuddered. "How can I tell you? how can I tell you ? " he moaned. " There is no need to tell me anything, dear. I un- derstand." Then the man looked up, and Phyllis was shocked to see the abject misery of his face. " What do you mean ? " he asked hoarsely. 31 Sirius fort you until the e "d " '^ ^°" """ '=°'"- undersS"d''°rnr'''"''?^' "^ P'^'" ^''"'l' y°" don't piexity "" " " '"'"•" "'^'^ ""^ «^^' '" -« Per- -..ca„,urt4asr:fastIlXr- ;:£^S5H-'--n:t:s:^ thee.o^waAS^dV;:;:^,?-^"'^-''^"''^ froml'f TeS'L'Trr,/"'"^ *''''* ^^ - hiding «s's breath cS," ."gasps "^ '^"'^"^•" ^"'^ ^''y' broJe^^Sli^tJLtisT- '^ ^^^""'"^'' -P"^'' A- heart, as you know wtf ' °''^'' y°" *'"' «" ">y flew at yo^ i^::^;izziT]L':\^'''" ?^. '°' ing you how much I loved ^ol" " ""'"" °' ^''°^^- ' Yes ; I understood that " 32 Sirius 1 had bought cheaply such a priceless boon as youf love." "Well?" Phyllis prompted him as he paused for a moment in the telling of his story. " But when I came back from Paris and settled down to ordinary life again, I found I had over-rated my strength of character— had over-rated, more shame to mel the power of my love for you. I had borne the shock without any trouble. I could have borne a heavier blow, had it been sharp and sudden and soon over; but the cloud hanging over me was more than I could stand. It was like the slow tortures of the Inquisition, which used to drive men mad by their very uncertainty and indefjniteness." " I understand, Ambrose." Phyllis's face was alert with interest. " Go on." " And day by day the horror seemed to grow; and as it grew, you got mixed up with it somehow. If I forgot it for a time, the sight of you brought it back to my mind ; and so I began to want not to see you, and to feel— despise me if you will— that a day when I didn't see you was a sort of holiday." " You mean that I depressed you, and took the joy out of your life, and became a kind of dreadful, haunting shadow." Ambrose sank into a seat again, and buried his face in his hands. " Yes, I felt all that, to my shame ! After a time I began to get my old spirits bacK when I was not with you, and to find life cheerful and natural again ; but the moment I saw you, the shadow returned, till you became to me a sort of nightmare. And so my love lessened day by day, in spite of all my efforts to fan its 33 Sirius fla,„e, and n,y utter sclf-co„te,„pt at n,y own fickle- " But why didn't you tell nie this' " " Because I didn't want to hurt you. I determined ■ouTa7/°";r' '° "''"''' "^ ^'^°'^ life t:~g ou happy, without ever letting you guess that my lovf jrength. A woman might accomplish it-but not a bite' " "dr "'f'''"!f °,' """ <=°"^«q''«ces of the dog's ^.;^^;thi;ttS^:£eLSL;s^ any anx.ety about my own health: there was now „o rtaTn hat'*!" ' 't ^° "'"' '"" '""^ ''°«- -- - certam that I was all right; but, alas! my own assured SnW ^'* "° ""^"'" °' ""y '°- On the co" I shrank from you more and more, as one would shrink from the memory of a horrible dream that was over and done wuh. and that one wished to forget. And, if I S toward you like that, it would be crt,el to you ;« marry myself •'• °"''' ""'''" ^°" ^' '"''*^"'''" "= ^ ^''°»''l be „ P'iy"'s stood up, and drew herself to her full height Ambrose she said, "you needn't be unhappy about th.s. My love for you is dead, too; but I intended to go on pretendmg it wasn't, for your sake; just as you meant to go on pretending for mine. Thank heaven we nave both found out our mistake before it is too late! " 34 Sii ius " y^r love dead, too ? " But there was relief as well as aston.shment in fie man's voice. " Ves; just after ;he accident I loved you with my h cilH T' f"' ' "'°"^''' '"y '°^«= -- - g^eat t^at .t could stand any strain. But it couldn't. The st a,„ tiC' ?^''''""-°"' '^^P'"^'"" '■"d anxiety poved too much for it ; so it died, as yours did " thin7j!!!f Mr'"'' ^''/"" ' ^' ''^^^ ''°th done the same thing, and fallen into the same error." " Yes; we each thought that our love for the other was of the finest quality, and could be submitted to the severest test. But when it was put into the furnace i E-S..' ° '''-' '''-' "^ «- ^- --^ -dio:;; Ambrose was silent for a moment; then he said pif r Tv "' *'* y°" '°^^ f°^ >»« i^ really dead " No; I swear to you that my love for you is as dead as .s yours for me-dead of over-strain and ove'pts sure the usual modem early death. So let us burv our two loves side by side, and never tell anybody that thev were made of such very inferior material'' "^ ^ gramuae . Certamly ; de mortuis nU nisi bonum." 3S Wl I THE SHEPHERD GUIDE J^^WmMtWi M I THE SHEPHERD GUIDE They were married at a registry-office for fear of seeming to support, even negatively, a superstition (so they called it) which had over-run the earth for nineteen centunes ; and which-in spite of all they, and such as they, had uone to stem the tide-was steadily flowing instead of ebb.ng. So the registrar was witness to thosi phghted vows, which they refused to flatter the Church by swearing in her presence; and then Arnold Firth, and Sophy, his wife, repaired to Scotland for their honey- moon. ■' They were an extremely advanced young couple. X hey wrote articles in magazines for the undoing of that God Whom the Christian world for centuries has wor- shipped ; and they never lost an opportunity of refuting that Creed which has been handed down to men from the Apostles. Also they had both taken honrurs in the schools of Cambridge; so that naturally it was difficult for them to believe that anything in the form of knowl- edge was as yet unexplored by them, or anything in the shape of truth as yet hidden from their eyes. They were not, perhaps, absorbingly in love with each other: they were not the sort of people who know what absorbing love means; but each felt sure that the othei- was a sure stepping-stone tc higher things of a worldly nature-and that conviction is not altogether an mefficient substitute when aflfcction of a more romantic ^9 ^ .t II The Shepherd Guide and there make a name for himself; and he knew no one 2n SI '"o-^!'' ''^ ''"''''«<1 '" «>« upward struggle S ^ ^ Pi'kington. Sophy, likewise, was S! b.t.ous; and scented from afar that social Uttle wh?h SioTindr^ ^''™'^'' '" *^ '"•'p^ °f <* ~- ' reception and finds its crown of victory in an inviU'ion to dme with a duchess. There are manj such recruits^n he g«3t warfare of Society-recruits' who fir ^ h uZ th?h "»!' *"'' °' Kensington, and finally sLd upon the battlements of Mayfair. What they undergo fathom" th' T '"'"■""■ "° °°'= ""' themLlves^ fathom; the.r hearts alone know the bitterness of the hTve'elten 1 / '"'' ""'^^'* ""' '""^ •"-" '^^ '^ thJt T' " ' "'""^^'^ ""y "°' intermeddle with the joy they experience when at last they climb the de- ?nsof'tH ?"'"'"' "l '"'''''' '""' «"«> *emselves den - Ts::!Z'^r' ''-' *•"'=•' «** '° '"^ ^--^'^^^ Mr. and Mrs. Arnold Firth travelled by easy staees to a comfortable hotel in a small village at^^fS „ a b.g mountam. The hotel was full of visitors, a^the Firths were not exclusive: on the contrary, they were ahvays ready to let the light of their deep^ knowledge so shme upon their inferior fellow-men, that the fatter world to come. Among their co-tourists there was one to whom they felt they had a special mission-^ ZtZ httle man who "travelled" for a firm devoted to hf h.s hohday. H.S name was Silas Tod. and his local hab- 40 The Shepherd Guide itation was in Manchester. His chosen form of worship was that of Methodism, and his office in his church that of a local preacher. Now Silas Tod was as ready to teach men the truth as the Firths were to teach them falsehood; and, al- though the bride and bridegroom naturally looked down from a social and intellectual eminence upon the little commercial traveller, they condescended to deny his as- sertions and refute his arguments with a force and irri- tation which were an unconscious flattery to the power of Mr. Silas Tod— or, rather, not to the power of the little man himself, but to the vitality of the truths which he was as anxious to preach, as they were to deny, in and out of season. " You say you don't believe in the power of prayer," he remarked one day, d propos of a sneer of Arnold's. " Naturally, considering that I don't believe there is anybody to pray to." " Well, I'll just tell you " And Mr. Tod strung off a list of signal answers to petitions which had come within the scope of his immediate notice. " Very interesting," Arnold said quietly when he had finished ; " very interesting indeed. Iris always strange how, when once one is imbued with a fixed idea, coinci- dence invariably lends a helping hand to the delusion." . "Bless my soul ! Mr. Firth, those aren't coincidences I've just been telling you about ; they're straightforward answers to straightforward prayers." " My husband and I call them coincidences," inter- polated Mrs. Firth. " Well, then, if you do, all I can say is that you're 8 sight more superstitious than I gave you credit for. 41 The Shepherd Guide them: that, accord^ TyU ^Id "" ^°"''' ""«- but when you write a leC to ^1 T"" '"'*"'-'^'- answer by return oipoTitl\"""t ""'^ ^et an that he himself shouid'^ave rep,ied'°M '°"' '''"^' you have got a funny idelM f u ^^ *°"<'' hut what isn't 1" ^ ^'"' '^ *° what is likely and own'iXinatC! ^11? ""^ ^-'^'^ »% ■« my t° y letters." a;g;ed Sopt; ^'"' '° ^^' ^" --- -n iX"to thf rnXsioVthrth '"""' ^ "^^ ^-'^ of that name, whether vo^t u''" "^" " ^^"I "-an didn't; else how could the letrrTH'"" °' "''^*'"^' y°" a"? And if you beKevId th,?^ '^' ^°' ''"'*"«d at answered them-weiTll f/''' '"""^""y '^hap had don, that you . Jp";i;'g::^„ ,T' '«=^^«^ your par- wast:e^^f;rf:;::^r ^^,r ^-^^ snas xod and Arnold and his Jf! '1°"^'" '^' ''^"°^tic couple; to.'oosen the co™; rvSt'ld"'^''^^^ spmtual. Sophy Firth anrih?T[ °^^ "P°" things happy in their'oL riXst'/h^l^Th ' T/ ^""'^ ^^'^ much in senseless reit^rTw ^hey did not indulge mutual affection as s'oh"' '' '°. "' "'"''' °' '"^^'^ might havedone bu the^tl'!! ""'^ .«"«ghtened lovers things they were going rac^mri"""'"^"'"''^^-" social triumphs fhey^meam °7 '!t'°^"'''='' «"d the laughed a great deal at Mr Tod anH n V^ ^^'^ '"^° thusiasts. What was thT' l^ *" ''k«-minded en- themselves ^^^Z^-^^^: °' %ing »aaon to an imaginary The Shepherd Guide Deity, when their own right hands and their unaided brains were capable of getting to themselves the victory ? 'If men and women would only take the trouble to help themselves instead of sitting still and wishing for miracles to be wrought on their behalf, the raison d'etre for a God would not exist," Arnold said one day to his wife. She fully agreed with him. " You are quite right- faith is only another name foi spiritual pauperization.' X can not understand how people can prefer living on the charity, so to speak, of a Being they call God, to work- ing for themselves, and being indebted to nothing but their own efiforts for success. Even if I believed in the existence of a God-which I don't-I own I shouldn't nke to be as dependent upon Him as the people called Christians are; it seems to me an attitude somewhat wanting in dignity and self-respect." "That is exactly what I think. Christianity seems to me to be in direct opposition to Individualism; and, paradoxical as it may sound, it is in Individualism that the salvation of the race lies." Thus these young people rooted and established one another still more firmly in their unbelief One morning Arnold and Sophy decided to spend the day on the mountain. It was one of those lovely autumn mornings when it seems as if summer had left something behind her, and had come back to look for it-m.sty at first, and then breaking out into cloudless sunshine. So the pair took their lunch with them, and set out for a good day's climbing. It really was glorious weather, and yet with just that sharpness in the afr which made fatigue an impossibility. They had a delightful " 43 The Shepherd Guide I III) if- morning; and found a sheltered lini. ., m . heart of the hilb where X . i ''°"°* '" "-e lunch, and talked orfhehin\'*' ''°^" ""^ »"= '»>eir fore them. "" '""PP^ '"'"« «'«tching out be- dayrLl aiird'SlSSr^' f ^''•^ '^ '"'"^ suddenly exclaimed, "^ how'^duTJ " '"'^' ^'"'^ you think it is going to «i„>" ^"" " "' ^^"'"«' D° it l^hit^rhttd'ollr '' '''\^''^- "^-^ Not with the glass'aThi; ' tTan^bt' P ''^''\^' mountain mist; that's all " ""'^ * ""'^ to be lost in the fog." ^ °°" ' want se./lXXVL^undtdtr' j'°^'^ "-'''^ »>- ««.e ^ook wht^hS"tdt2X'^ -"^ - °' "'^ ley SiSrthTm S '=°"^*'"'^'-" '° fincl all the val- view wWch hln K '" ' •'""'•^ *»>''« «ist. The compleTet «,',-",- ^'- i-t before ,„„ch, had rolling billows o7 he wht £"^ ""' '° "*= ^'=«" «">' nearer to their feet like^ri^' ^"I'^'^'^S up gnidually -^^^:^l^Zl^ Whereby they Arnoi?r^itorkn::'r " "^^'^ "^'^ •" «=■--«» mounta n even l bro,!^ 7 ,^V ^^'^ '^'" »''°"t this this lam c^mpl'ely ° 3^^^^^^^^ ''"'' '^'"^ « '°^ «"* which was the way we earn, ^ " " ''"" '"' '"'^- ^''y- Sophy shook her head : one might as well have tried 44 The Shepherd Guide to find out a track across the ocean, as to discover a trail across that pathless waste of fog. " It is getting thicker and thicker every minute," she said, " and coming higher up the mountain." " I am afraid it is." And it was ; for the little island of green, on which the pair stood, was growing smaller and smaller with amazing rapidity. Sophy looked at her husband with fear in her eyes. " Oh, Arnold, what shall we do?" " That is just what I don't know, my dear." " I was talking to one of the mountain shepherds only yesterday," Sophy went on, " and he told me what fearful fogs they sometimes have here at this time of year. He said they often last for days and days." " GooJ gracious I And we have nothing to eat." ■r a pause, during which the waves of fog rose higl and higher, Arnold said, " Did the . oherd tell you what he did when he was caught in one of them? " "He said he did not mind much, because all the shepherds knew the mountains so well that they could find their way blindfold; in fact they often have to go out in the fog to look for missing sheep and lambs, which might otherwise fall down precipices and be killed ; but visitors, he said, were sometimes lost in the fog and never found alive, as they either died of starvation or else fell down over the cliffs." And Sophy shuddered. " I wish to goodness we could see one of these shep- herd-chaps I " " So do I ; he'd be able to guide us safely into the valley again." An hour passed which seemed like twelve. Arnold 4S The Sheplierd Guide i I J :!! comiTgTowar^ull'-'"' ' ^'"^ '' °"^ "^ "'^ shepherds tHrots rir^irira„rs,T -- '-'-^ shouting to attract it??*? \- ^^^^ managed by direction; but "as when t"' ""f " """^^ '" '"eir be recogn zed it was „o J T'^'f ''^ "^"^ '="°"&'' '" a lost sleep bu sflas T^dir r^'^*'.'"" '" ^^^^^ "^ selves. Ne^rthele' h . """ P"^''' ^'* ^hem- thoughhrwrastuch.r'' "T"" "'^" "°»"'''y' -ven him with ddS'"'"''^ = '"*'*^*''^° hailed ThesedeLeXsgSlvirHn"' '"^ ^''"'"°"- of the year; Jd !Hh:S I'Ztchlt'' "' *'^ ^^^^°" come from the hotel tZl ^^^^"^'P^^y was bound to to one that t would finder • ^"^ ' '"'"''^''' <="='""« impenetrabl'mTtt this "^'" '" ^"^'^ ^" exceptionally ""^w^rSe'ti^l^S^:?-''^— 1, this th.^Mr'Tod'"'!' r« "'ght fell Jament and become a grwtt""'!' '"'' ^° '"'° S- Md Sophy would be bunV.rf ^ \ ^""*'»d °f that he churchyard in the valley "2 1^^^ '''^' « 'he Jttle ««nity would flow on f' u ""= ^^'''e "en call rhw a malefactor's death ^i "™" °'a Man, Who harf a-^ '"o-W defy pnSpalSrard*'^" '"--c^ yea'^ ^^^ centurie,--p,.si„/,j4'"/"%Powers, and outliveX' W'nethinginth/j'^^ff^' Suppose that there was F"rth. and such as hfv/L ' '"^ '"d that he Am!^M i"nun,en.ble folC';; of th ^^" ^""^ '«>'«. insJead oTthe Je should soon knoTLtSin^^^^^^^^^^ ^""''"- ^S he wouldhave solved for h!w ^ '^" *™« to-morrow have proved whether Kd f „?h« r*'^^'^'^' »"^ effete superstition, or mTu t.'^"'" ^'"tingan ^- And if th; fatter !5f' ''".'"«' ^^fi^d the liWn" one ? 4 ,7 "^"^ alternative wpr» tu * enft^l.'^"'"''* shuddered as th- !'*'* ^e correct «fo'ded him still more cloTet °"'' °' ^P^"' Sophy, too, mediuted in h.J t 4a I The Shepherd Guide had so often pictured herself doing: instead, she would have to stand before a King greater than any earthly monarch— at least so people were always saying, and she was beginning to think that perhaps they were right. She remembered hearing or reading a story once about a man who appeared at that Court without a wedding garment, and was therefore cast into outer darkness; and she herself had no wedding garment ready if— by some strange chance— the legend proved true and she needed one : that she knew well enough. She had spent her days in cultivating her mind and adorning her body, but her soul was starved and bare. And as the night wore on she grew frightened— frightened of the terror that walked in the darkness all round her; and still more frightened of that Unknown God to Whom she had raised no altar, and Whom she had openly denied before men. Of course Arnold might be right, and there might be no God to judge both quick and dead at all ; and if so why need she fear ? But the death that crept nearer and nearer to her with stealthy footsteps, gave the lie to this ; there was a God in heaven— she knew it now— and she had been at war with Him all her life. Now it was His turn to take vengeance and to repay. Silas Tod was sitting quietly in the darkness, pray- mg to himself, when Sophy suddenly said : " I'm frightened— I'm awfully frightened I Mr. Tod won't you pray for us ? " "Of course I will, Mrs. Firth. In fact I've been doing so all the time." And then Silas knelt upon the heather and offered up his simple petition : " Dear Lord, we are Thy sheep, lost upon the moun- 49 The Shepherd Guide Hi SheJherJ'Ieek Thv "If" '° ''" "* ^^ither to go Good and give us len^^ of dl"^ 'E^'" '"^° '"e valley. Thee; and if it be Thy WaitbT 'u"" '"'' P«'" the mount and that no man h m T *''°'"'' '«'= "Pon fhen lead our souls "pwZ out „?.. "^ °" '^P"'<='^. '"to Thy marvellous 5t ^H " P'''"="' ''''^'^ne^ 'hose of us whose eyes have hi*^'"'''"" '" ">« "ght *««= hght. Hear usf we beTeeel tT ''T ''°"'«"- ^h«ll °"r own sakes. but or the Tke Jl'' ?• ^'^' "°' f""- Who laid down His Life for the 1 ^°°'^ ^''^Pherd There was silence JfJll^^^^P' ^^en." -•'ence and a st "n^rX L\' "'"^' ''" P^^— had vanished, and anot^'calm ^ ^ u ^^""^ °' '^^°r ;"Pped into Arnold's sou, S, '" ?"' "' «''=^P«'> had °r this. Perhaps it was he «17''' ^^<= "° ««on their senses with its merci ulJ °' ''^'"' benumbing ^, Suddenly Arnold eS^S'°y/°r Perhaps-- ^ Weatingofalamb!" '''"'•""^''' 'Listen. I hear the ^^^^!J^:^' ''-'■'-%. and sure enough -^^^tltiS'SS^- to look fori. f-w louder as tlTe 'S* d 7°" ^ ''''=" '''^ '''^'ing -SCa::?iai:^""-^^Se^1^ shoulder; bui though thevcT,?;"^ '' """"-^ward o„ his Pa«nUy hear theirt' ^^t Ve" '"'" ''^ ''" "°' aP" ' 'or he never turned his head. Tile SliepJiera Guide I preceding day On fhl ^ ''' """y '"*"' '^'"'^d the ing.ightXntunXTL^'''''^'?'""'^'*^'''- and saw torches gleaming i„^I'' "°"' °' ""="'" ^°'«« party fron, the vi£ Z " f ' ?."'= " *"' " "^'^h fog lifted a little afd a ch. /""• •^"'' ""'" '^e seekers as the is 'f thebeT/r ''■°"' "'^ ^^^^ °f their view. * '"'^'^'^ *"ve"e« burst upon i.o.e^S—S;;«c,ai„ed Silas, as the ^We^vetr ra ^=''°^^' " ^"-^ ^o^i ' " fall," the innkee^TsI d " Yoi°hr" "'" """ "'«"*- fright." '^ • ^°"''*v«g'ven us a terrible " ins Xt'oTSr " 'If'' ""■" '^'"'■^'' Tod. like this, for no one e,-! ^' """""'''"^ '" =» '°& «ve here could po°siblvfinH.r' °' "' ^''^P'"^^''^ '-ho 'ey again. YouTrf Lt ' ^tr 'T "'° ^"^ -'- never have been saved thho^h^m-l T '°^^°"''' for three or four days and bv th. '°^ "'" '^^' helped you." '^^ *''^" "° one could have fe shepherd was noi^;-: t\Z!' °" "''"■" «"' 51 •^fiiWi:* J\ i The Shepherd Guide " Where can he have gone to? " exclaimed Arnold. " ^ "* .*'*'" '" '''°"' °' "' °"'y ""■** minutes aga" " It ii very funny," said the innkeeper ; " for we all distinctly saw four figures coming down through the fog, and yet now there are only three." Silas Tod raised his hat reverently. " And the form of the Fourth was like the Son of God," he said. 52 I 'fMiJS^sM^^'^Mmmmami fc DIAVOLA CHAPTER I " You'll go to Mrs. Selby's dance, won't you, Aus- tin ? Just to please me, you know." " I am not sure ab <: that, Josephine. In the first place, I hate dances ; anu, in the second, my mother does not wish me to go ; and I always p ase her when I can, because she has so few pleasures — her lameness cuts her off from everything cheerful." " But you like to please me too, don't you ? " " You know I do, Josephine," replied the young clergyman. " Well, you see, it is like this," argued his Aancei; " your mother is bound to go on liking you, whether you please her or whether you don't ; it would be a sin against all Christian doctrines and all natural laws if she left off ; she would be a disgrace to the whole parish, and a blot upon the mother's meeting, and a scandal to the Church of England. What will become of us all if the mothers of our clergry turn out to be whited sepul- chres?" Austin Laurence smiled. " How absurd you are 1 " he said. " But, on the other hand," continued Josephine, " I am bound by no Christian doctrines nor natural laws to go on liking you if you vex me. The Church of Eng- 55 ^EST It would indeed I" probleJ:"^ ;iij^;^^^^^^^^^^ sum. or knee's liking for you TL^ . """«^- " Mrs. Lau- and mine is not then ' '"''"P^'«^^'« of circumsU^es help to the cultt o„ <^'S?,r t°"''' '^"^ ^ you see?" °' """^ rather than hers. Don't wathematSmJself^buTf"?' ^''"^ something of a are wrong." '"' •"■' ^ also see that your premises ore r^eZtlep^^l^'X.^l^^^ we, m parenthesis. ""^ '*'^^w«. remarked Joseph- '^-p';t:rt;;r-^-exp,ai„ingp.h- Pre.4r'SSiJ''^-ng.ithmy ^ ^^^ vei: yoTa;rorri,;rr '^ "^ - -- ■' know not what we may be ' as"ol!?'" "' "^' •""» ^« bram affection-^, .^ ;emar?2 'itT^emf f °' ''' ™. "seems to me as Diavola silly to promise never to get tired of a person, as to prom- "* "'Au ? ^'"^ "°"'' °'' "^''^ '° have the toothache." ^^ Oh, Jo, what a horrid thing to say ! " " It isn't horrid; it is simply true that it is absurd to make promises about things that we have no control over. Of course it would be nice always to be fond of the same person, just as it would be nice never to grow stout or never to have the toothache; but the niceness of a thmg doesnt alter its impossibility," persisted the girt. Austin smiled in spite of himself. "I'm afraid that your promises are even more un- satisfactory than your premises," he remarked each other," laughed she. .. . ''"^'';'' J»'d.the young man, growing grave again. It would be nice to hear you promise that you would always care for me. I believe some women make prom- ises like that— and keep them." " Oh! those are the women that people call ' sweet creatures. If you like that sort of thing you should have put your money on that sort of a woman. I have no patience with men who fall in love with amusing girls and then grumble because they don't find them soothing; It is like buying diamonds, and then crying because you can't make them up into flannel petticoats " Perhaps I may settle down with a ' sweet creature ' yet ; there is time still for me to change my mind, accord- ing to your late improving remarks." Josephine shook her head. " No, there isn't," she said with conviction. " You know that girls are made of— 57 Diavola "'Suyarandjplce U,.,. ; ^""l ""that's nice' • •"•t'famanhasonceustedfh "^r be contented with he fi ' ^ a"' '"'^"P'' ^' *"' »ot go back to the swltiJ ^' "'""'' y°" can savouries." """^'^'^ «««'■ you have enjoyed the -ves you'l, i"oS fe' ^° ^^^-ts ,„ the way of stance, would get some IIm? '"'1°'' ^O". fo/in -"!| a meek and quieTsp °"'' ""^^"^'"'' ««'«= woman, ^ ve no doubt sHpM k ' - exj.me^ ,.,,^^^^^^^^^^^^ and make Josephine. "I^KTS^'''" '''' ^" -°«ed "ever speaks to her h, .k ! ' ^°"' ^'^^r's wife who or putting her hand on tXw'°"' ""''"^ '''-™° a jelephone and couldn't make £7'"'' "" " ='''= ^e« were joined." ^^''^ '"'» hear until the wires " What a lovely idea ( " • j . ^, "I always expe'ct her whe .''"'''"' '""^"ing. Je parish room.^0 «; '.1?„T^':^ "^""es fussing into then picture you or tL -m ^ °" *o No. 777'- I ;- hand and'pUV' if frVt'^'r '-• ^'./^ when she cries, 'Are you thTrev'! '^T^'"'' shoulder and they begin to converse L ''^ '''°"''' ' Yes,' fashion." °"^««e « approved telephonic Prol'Sr ■' SSaf"^' J°' " ^i'^ Her lover ap- j8*^' '"f««.notasamus- I w^T^mMLmii^ ^^k3 Diavola ing as I am with other men. The sad fact is that I am too fond of you to be brilliant." " But you are brilliant with me." •• Pooh ! that is nothing to what I can be. My temp- tation IS to be melting rather than brilliant when I am with you ; and one can't be melting and brilliant at once unless one is a stick of sealing-wax." " Well anyway you satisfy me. I couldn't imagine any one s bemg more adorable than you are." ''^ When I am with you," continued Josephine grave- ly, 1 am impelled by an uncontrollable impulse to ask you idiotic questions-whereof I know the answers to begin with-over and over again; this is not brilliant conversation : also to recall to your memory episodes in our eariy acquaintance which are not really worth re- membering at all. much less talking about; this is not brilliant conversation: also to examine you as to your possible behaviour under a combination of absurd and impossible circumstances; this also is not brilliant con- versation. Austin .oyal^" ''°"' "' '"'""'"^ *'°"^'''" ""'" "I could have talked like that had I been a little dressmaker and you a draper's assistant; in fact, that IS how we should have talked. And now is all our clev- erness and culture and finish to go for nothing, .-Austin' I am ashamed of us ! " -^usun. . "There is nothing to be ashamed of, my dear. It s merely a proof that we are all pretty much alike in- t^^f^J w"",'''' ^'"'' unibrellas-no difference as to frames, but only as to covers." "I think, somehow," remarked Josephine seriously ' 59 Diavola that you woul'd LT^Z'^^ uTt "' '^V'^"^ you might become a sodalUt ' r !„ ^'" * '•"■ «"« or something of that kinH =» ^°^ ' °'' * '"'ssionary, " Might I ? " ''' "' '"y moment." ^' "Don't become a missiona:^, dear boy; you arc "•Acreatur. not ,00 bright andgood only man I ever loved had h "' °' ""=' *•"=" the "Couldn't you m ™ r '"'""''"y digested?" young man tenderly^ " """'""^ "«=• J°"' «ked the Vou thmk too well of me, dear." ment"otLr6hris°tJnrl"T'^.*'"''y°">^»teror„a- bishop of Canted; " '""" '""" '"^ ^^^^ ^ '"e Arch- "pirrcrproretr' '^""^^^^ ^- -^ '«"*■■• mathematics bd„gTyo„ not'"?'" °' ""^ Proposition, 60 ^' Diavola therefore the Pope and the Archbishop are less impor- tant than you; thmgs which are more important than the Mme jhmg bemg more important than one another. " Admirably worked out," cried Austin with delight You 11 go to Mrs. Selby's dance, like a good toy, won't you, dear? " coaxed Josephine. "I suppose so. as you have set your heart upon it. But I say, Jo, added the young man, looking at his watch. I must say goodbye this very minute, or I shall be too late for evensong." " I wish that watches and clocks didn't tell the time —life would be so much less complex if they didn't " said Josephine pensively. ' "The maker of my mother's drawing-room clock apparently agreed with you." " I know. A hopeless mass of flowers and mythoWy eflfectually conceals the shining hour, and the chimes do not always strictly confine themselves to the truth " They do not, most learned judge-most wise young woman But if you will bear in mind that they alway! stnke eleven at a quarter before three, and calculate ac- cordmgly. all wdl yet be well." called out the retreating And so the two lovers wem their respective wavs- or^fiSr '"'' "" =""="'°°" """" "-" f^easantlyTd' profitably spent, and he wishing that being engaged did not Uke up so large a share of a busy man's time •11 Diavola CHAPTER II rence^s drawing-room. ^ ' ''''" °"' >" MrL lT". , Ohf Mrs. Laurence" .t, . ^«^«" will never forle','"'" '" ^» '"ffuish of -^y-pathy tSd .iXTn"'''''^.'"''^^ "° movement responded, "But, mydJA'^^^.P''' « 'he cold v^ "e aWy stupid of you to tdi „ r '"V""' '' '^^ so inexcus! -St h,,e kno4 that Ih fr [h toT ''"^ '''-"^' """ «ie truth the more he deling each other in n,= '^ "" Captain Ta!-l»fn„ u- J"-' - mncrbCe^rSr' l^ ' -^- ai"; for lettmg Austin see hTm do i L"^ '^' *""" '''"^s you as °f mex-p icable carelessness.""' ''^^ "^^"^ *° "e a'^piece .,"'-f°=fPhineonIysoNKed Diavola George Washington in his passion for the truth-consid- ermg also that he had caught you in the act, and that a he was tli. fore useless-I can not imagine what pos- sessed you t.. tell him one, and say that you were not there A he is always wrong, and generally ineflfective." I can not go over all that again," replied Josephine, and as I sa.d before, the confession of the crime would have disgusted Austin no less than the denial of it." " That is so," agreed Austin's mother. " You cer- tainly were in an awkward position, with the deep sea m front of you and the arch-enemy to your rearward. Men are very like children ; they always want something to amuse them, and nearly always something to drink- and It IS equally unwise to tell them what is true and wnst isn ta "Austin is so hard on me! " cried the girl. ".There is nothing in the worid so hard as success- ful virtue," replied Mrs. Uurence; "the nether mill- stone is as a pillow compared with it. My son's sense of duty has always been as irritating to his friends as a mustard plaster, while his conscience is so abnormally enlarged that I should think it would finally be made into a sort of spiritual pati de foie gras, for angelic consump- "I admire Austin's conscience," cried Josephine taking up the cudgels on her lover's behalf; " I think it IS splendid to give up everything for one's principles, as he does." "^ Mrs. Laurence smiled. " He calls them principles, but they are really only prejudices," she remarked ; " but It IS easy to confound the two, and I believe it affords as much pleasure to die for the one as for the other 63 i Ir to the martyr himself. To the oni^t- cover. n>y son's consciene^teM" '°"''"«^ «"- !« apt to prick others as welU K m ^"''''"^ "'"er. ■noculates them with feeli^f ofiT ' '"'' ">" P"ck h>n>. His conscience is pecuhi.v ,"'' '""'"^ '"'^"^d -!^!J"'SSr„:rt^;?-"«'''Josephi„ere- "Of course, I donTulma!^^^^^^ never tned to. And as jZ."'^ him, my dear. I prehension of his underivinl "',."''' "^ '^'«^««r com- Parently confer incr^asedTan """'"'^" '^'^^ "ot ap- tn.stthatn,yi„^a,/;;f^^JP'"«s on j^, ^^^ 'P don't love him more th'anlThinlT ""^ ""^^'"'=''- And I to love her elder and onfy smlf • "'?"' f""- » *oman Mrs. Laurence winceW " v r Je was a bad son to me a„d J"' J '"--^ Claude, but Diavola for loving Claude, he was so bright and handsome, and sunny, and such a nice change from the faultless, self- righteous Austin. Like a Bank Holiday just after a Sunday, don't you know ? " •' I can not bear to hear you speak like that of Aus- tin. He is the best man in the world, and could make a really good and useful woman of me, if only he would let me sit at his feet and learn of him. But if he washes his hands of me I can't sit at his feet, you see," sighed the girl ruefully. " 1 suppose not," said Mrs. Laurence, with her bitter smUe; " though sitting at Austin's feet would have any- thing but a beneficial eflfect upon me. Whenever he ad- vocates a course of conduct, the exactly opposite direc- tion seems to me the only traversable country." "Oh, Mrs. Laurence!" " It is a fact. I never had the slightest homicidal tendencies till I once heard Austin preach a sermon on the Sixth Commandment. Then it was all I could do to keep myself from slaying everybody I happened to meet. He has one admirable discourse on the Sins of the Tongue— I daresay you have heard it— and to that sermon I always feel indebted for the unblunted sharp- ness of my conversational powers." Josephine rose to go. It was one thing to be excom- municated from the shrine where she had hitherto adored, but it was another to hear that shrine openly pro- faned, and this latter was more than she could bear. "Well, all I know is," she said, "that if Austin throws me over now, and refuses to forgive me, I shall never be good myself or put any faith in good people agam; and you can tell him so. Goodbye, Mrs. Lau- 6S 'ml^ t)iavola S|« fc/°" -" "o your be« .0 put ma«er. her t« I^'^.d^Hcr «re.i?' °' '"'^ '^'"^^ -"^ds, did could, both for Josephine" LTLt.h' "^ '" "«« '"e '°^e a good husband; and for' W ' ^"' *''°"''' ""' "hould not lose a rich ^ff" But ,h T' ">'' ^'' ^'^ were alike powerless to touch th' ° ^"""derations ot Austin Uurence. ""* P"'* ^'n^ "arrow soul Arm^:i^bi:„lVt!th it^^ °' r l'*"^ ■■" »"«= In^iian crcumstances. She wL a b ' ve T" '""' '" «^='"-"«' one. and succeeded in ^vi„. her In?"' ''"'^'' "^ "■"•^^ fon. Austin, the elder rs a '' t^''^*" « g«od educa- ""'h a passion for riehT^'i""''''''; '"'^'P^ctive boy, manhood he took Ho"foXTnd h^'" "^ ^^^ '° "-e curate of SunninglySe", -""''"' *™" home for his mother- and t^,. """''= » "'« little with, and becameXid ,0 *''-"'''''=" '"'°- -ster-heiress of oid^olV^' i°2^r ^"'^'"^y- "'e Claude, the second son o the hh. ^^/'r ^°""«^ ^"«>- neither morbid nor introsLcle !. °1 ^"'^""' ^"^ worthy indifference tow™rdTh!7v "'' l*!"^^^ '' hlame- r --•■i^"3• -"^^^^^ Squire's rich sister-in-Ia«,\^.^ ""'°" with the 66 JkTF . '»■ Diavola ribly bored. oSL^he gr? ■'I'"' '"*• *" *" hor- - latent irritationS « ith re^h"' ' "•' "' ''" dering irritation became „,„ .7' . ' ' • " st. i.l «Pon two people k'ssSTach ^h" '""" '^' ^" " -">^' "o'Tor, that these twain we« cljt' "t"^? ' ' " '" ' ' wphine Crawley ^ • ^^i"' ' '■ ' d /o- lover's anger againstTr Shi !^^^^^^ ""^'"^ ''^^ charge and^egfeit;;.'^^^^^^^^^ «>-«' °f the pnest was as adamant ^ '""*• ^ut the stem young «id: "b" ^t'Sl^:^^^^-'; ^ '-"■•on." he loved you and trusted you w^°h „' t^, ° ""^ '''''«• ^ "And can you never^„ ^ "'''°'' '°"1-" "■ '•N:r£r ^'"^^^^^^^^^ '"' "^ ''^'"'" Josephine"' rhacTMrff^^ ''^^" ^ '''''"'* *=nt to love you •t. My motherlXTrX'n ■■'" -1 I was afraid; my father a.od whileTwas vet r " """^ ^°' ""'• ^"^ I daresay had he lived he wouM hrV°""^ ^''"''' b"' " No, no; nobody could hJv.^ ^''^"''^ '"^ «°°" ^ The young .an smH b te ,y"^' m\^°"' ^''■■"•" my own mother takes nn », I, Nobody? Why, tempt, and my brother jeered °/° '°""^' "^^^ "^o"- jeered at me from his cradle. Mv 67 •^ Diavola lot has not been a happy one, but at least it has had «Je advantage of teaching me not to be conceited Therefore, Josephine, I tried not to love you, because I knew well enough that there was nothing in a dull, commonplace man like myself to attract a brilliant wom- an such as you are." " But you did attract me, Austin, from the very first. I liked you as soon as I saw you." " I daresay I did very well as a plaything. Even a poor curate's heart is worth breaking, just for prac- tice, though a negligible quantity in the more important affairs of life." " Austin, it is cruel to speak to me like that I " " And wasn't it cruel of you to flash into my dreary, loveless lot, and make me love you, whether I would or no? Wasn't it cruel to teach me all the unimagined hap- pmess that was possible in this life, only to prove that for me it was a hopeless dream? Wasn't it cruel to be all the worid to me for a time, and then to throw me on one side when you had the chance of amusing your- self with a more fashionable and attractive man?" " Oh, Austin, Austin I have some mercy upon me. It is your profession to teach people how to save their souls ahve, and mine will never be saved if you cast me off like this. I can not be good or do good apart from you." " I owe a duty to myself as well as to you, Josephine • a-'.d / can only be good and do good apart from you, now that I know your words and kisses are alike false. My ife was wretched enough, heaven knows, before I ever loved you, it is a thousand times more wretched now that I have loved and lost you ; but it would be ten thou- sand times more wretched were I to go on loving you 68 Diavola after I had learnt how false you are. Plucking out one's nght eye .s not an agreeable operation, but ther. ,s a l^^J^r..u.., you Uno.. ^U.n .n.rin, ^^oll self MorrhV" •'"'!!' *« ^' J°''P'''"^ humbled her- =i^:^rhifrrs;-^£5 had a high ideal, and ifve^d up Sltlndtth'toX: fa..ed where he succeeded, he showed neither p'^le tionfof lift'in'tn'°''r "" "" ^"^''^'"'«'. the condi- IZf. u ^"""'"Sly were not so easy to the youne curate as heretbfore, .o he left the country and took f curacy ,n London. Before many years h7d passed th^ ar and powerful preachers in town, and the vicar of a n«1„t ""^^ '"'° ' ""^ °' Church House, where in ,?, ''T^ '°"''^' "'^'^' »"d self-de„;ing as No mt^'nLl""' "'!'='' *"= ^° passionately' loved Ao man m London preached more fearlessly or worked more unflaggmgly than Austin Laurence ; aLwTen he happened to recall Josephine Crawley, which ^asbm posse"'ed r " " ""'"; °' thanksgiving that he had ^Il». Dlavola CHAPTER III Who was the author of Diavola? That was the question which all London was asking, and which no one, in London or out of it, answered. Diavola was the cleverest and the wickedest book of the season, and had taken the clever and the wicked world by storm. Nearly every one read it, and nearly every one was the worse for reading it; and still the authorship remained a mystery, though the pernicious influence of the author spread far and wide. Upon this unknown writer the great preacher, Aus- tin Laurence, poured forth the vials of his righteous in- dignation, and felt that he did well to be angry. He read the book because every one read it; but, unlike the majority of its readers, the stem young prophet did not assimilate the insidious poison which its brilliant epi- grams and finished periods breathed forth ; for he was strong enough— owing-to the singleness of his eye and the purity of his heart— to resist the defilement of even such subtle pitch as that concealed in the fascinating pages of Diavola. But none the less did Laurence rec- ognize the incalculable harm which such a publication was bound to eflfect, and against the author of this dan- gerous work he put forth all his strength. He forbade the young men under his charge so much as to look into the book ; and he made an auto da fe of every copy that came in his way, regardless of its ownership. Moreover, he lifted up his voice in public, and preached against Diavola as against one of the most penetrating instru- ments of the powers of darkness ; and from his pulpit he 70 Diavola hurled his anathemas ,t the unknown writer who had ln/.^"H ^ I""' '"'^ '^""^^y P"'^'" '"'° the hearts and mmds of h.s fellows. It is a terrible thing to lay ~' °" T '':'"^ '°"'' ''"' ^"^t-" La"«n<=e was young enough and bold enough to do terrible things- and on one memorable Sunday-when he had made the hearts of them that heard him melt like wax at the burn! rrmriV It ''"^ *'" "P*-"^ "'--l his right arm m the face of h.s congregation, and called heaven to witness that he cursed the author of Diavola In the midst of Laurence's fierce crusade against sprntual wickedness in general and the teaching D.avola m particular, he was one day surprised to re- ceive a visit from Mrs. Lumley, the wife of the Squire of Sunningly, about whom he had heard nothing for sev- ZZ'fT '} 71 ""' *" 'y^' °f •='«"<= ^hom sen- timental women delight to honour as the repository of all their semi-hysterical doubts and difficulties, and for whom they manufacture innumerable cushions and slio- pen. ; he was made of too stern stuff to be appealed to by either fancy work or fancy religion. Tlierefore, he waited with some impatience for his fair visitor to ex- plain her reasons for taking up his already overcrowded ■; I know you are awfully busy with good works and services and things, Mr. Laurence," began Mrs. Lumley apologetically, "so I won't detain you for more than half a minute ; but there is something that I must say to The young priest merely bowed his head and waited • he knew by bitter experience that a feminine half-minute IS often as a thousand years to the waiting victim, and 71 te^"^'T% < Diavola he also knew that a woman has the inalienable last word all the sooner if the nuin does not speak at all. "It is about my sister Josephine," continued the lady hurriedly; "of course you remember her?" " Certainly I do," replied Austin ; but he did not think it necessary to add how very rarely nowadays he recalled the memory of his faithless love. " I have only just found out why your engagement with her was broken ofJ, and I want to explain." " There is not the slightest need to explain anything now, Mrs. Lumley," said Austin, smiling; " in fact, such an explanation would be as much out of date as a dis- cussion as to who wrote the Letters of Junius, or on which side of Whitehall Charles the First was beheaded." " But I must explain— I can't rest till I do. I have only just discovered that you quarrelled with Josephine because you fancied you saw Captain Tarletan kiss her at Mrs. Selby's dance. You were mistaken. It was I whom you saw in the conservatory with Frank Tar- letan." "You?" " Yes, I ; but Josephine and I were so awfully alike in those days, don't you know?" continued Mrs. Lum- ley, growing nervous as Austin's brow darkened, " that we were constantly being taken for one another. On that particular night, too, we were both dressed in white satin. I remember those gowns perfectly, because I had mine dyed afterward and made into a tea-gown. It dyed extremely well— a lovely apple-green— and I think it would have been the prettiest tea-gown I ever saw if my maid hadn't cut it a little too short in the waist," added the lady, growing retrospective and therefore garrulous. 72 Diavola Laurence looked cold and stern. " Why didn't your sister tell me the truth at the time ? " he asked. " She did tell you a part of the truth, you know, and you were too high-and-mighty to believe her. She swore to you that she had never entered the conserva- tory at all that night, and no more she had. But she wouldn't tell you that it was I whom you had seen, be- cause she knew what a row my husband would have made if he had heard of it. He was dreadfully fussy about things like that." " And rightly so I " thundered Austin. For the first time in his life he began to be angry with himself, and consequently felt the necessity of punishing some one else severely. " Of course," Mrs. Lumley agreed pacifically. " But Frank and I at that time were both extremely young and extremely foolish. Naturally, if I had had any idea that the thing would get Josephine into trouble, I should have spoken right out, and braved my dear old Colonel's justifiable wrath. But Jo was better and cleverer than I was, and always took the burdens off my shoulders ; so I never bothered my head about her affairs— I felt she was able to take care of herself." " Women are very selfish I " exclaimed Austin ju- dicially. " Some are, but not all. If my sister had been a little more selfish she wouldn't have lost her heart's desire. I have only just found out that that nonsense between me and Frank Tarletan was what really estranged you and Josephine ; so I have come to tell you how frightfully sorry I am, and to ask you to forgive me." 73 ^-lOH ' • Ao-J^^dUhJIii^ Diavola "I have nothing to forgive. Mrs. Lumley, for I am convmced that your sister and I could never have been happy together. My love for her was a midsummer mad- ness; when I was with her I was fairly intoxicated by her wonderful fascmation. and completely lost my head " ; Josephine had a tremendous charm for some peo- ple, remarked Mrs. Lumley musingly. " I am beiter- lookmg than she is, actually, but she was always more attractive. I wonder how she does it." "You see, I am not a marrying man," continued Austin, not heeding hei" interruption. " After the first intoxication was over, I should again have returned to my work, and found it my greatest interest ; and domestic life might have interfered with it and worried me. But by the way, how is your sister? Well and happy. I trust." ^^^' " ^.*!" afraid that she is neither," sighed Mrs. Lum- ley. She married Sir George Serracold a year ago but It ,s not at all a happy marriage. I think she only cared for his title and he for her money. But I mustn't waste your valuable time any longer." And with a hasty adieu, Mrs. Lumley withdrew Austm Uurence went back to his interrupted duties wondenag why on earth the Colonel's wife had thought fit to hinder him for such a thing as this. True, he had beheved himself to be broken-hearted ten years ago when his engagement ended, and when he was so bit- terly-and as he no- learned, unjustly-disappointed in Josephine Crawley. He had likewise believed him.elf to be heart-broken thirty years ago, when he lost the ele- phant out of his Noah's Ark ; but if any one had stopped him DOW m his busy life to inform him that he need fret Diavola no longer, as the elephant had been found in the old compound at Lahore, he would have felt much the same toward that messenger as he Mt toward Mrs. Lumley. His day of small things was over, h< said to himself ; he bad outgrown ahke the elephant and Josephine. vT CHAPTER IV " Do you know, Lady Serracold, that this is the third time I have picked up your dinner-napkin since we sat down, and we are only at the first entree? The dinner is as yet young, but I, alas ! am not." Lady Serracold laughed. " I am so sorry. Major Newdigate. I seem to be a sliding scale ; I haven't the faintest idea what that means, but it sounds income-taxy and death-dutiful." " Pray don't regret the circumstance, my dear lady ; it is a pleasure for me to do anything for you, and in this case the pie;. ,ure is so intense as to be ' almost pain.' But don't you think it would be a good plan if I sat under the table and kept throwing it back ? " " I daresay it would ; and you would look rather nice crouching under the shadow of the table-cloth, and hurl- ing defiance and a dinner-napkin at me. A sort of com- panion study to Ajax defying the Lightning, don't you know." " But it might slightly interfere with the thread of conversation if Ajax were hiding under the table and the lightning dining above it. It is bad enough below • 75 Diavola thc^Mlt. but Still worse below the table, I should im- theie?,*! "'lT!?"u'""^"'^ ^''^ "y conversation in the least, her ladyship assured him: "you see I have always to talk down to you. and you have to look „p L me, wherever we may happen to be placed at table " Ihat IS so; nevertheless, continual dinner-napkin- hunts in the middle of a substantial meal are thWs which wither me and stale my infinite variety. Sol you continue to be a sliding-scale. I think I should pre- fer to sit under the table and dine off meat-lozenges " ^^^ Did you ever eat a meat-lozenge. Major Newdi- " Once ; it was made of horseflesh, I believe, to jud« from the taste, and not very fresh at that " " It was high horse. I expect: an animal better for ndingthan eating." remarked Lady Serracold Major Newdigate smiled. "A very happy suppo the French for meat-lozenges), have you read Diavola' " Yes. I have read it," replied the lady ; " but I don't know what to think about it." ""tiaont ,.1. ^'/' a "larvellously clever book, and extremely un- U hrmost?' " ''''\°' '^ unpleasantness I think it ^Iprou?'"""^ '°°' ' -^^^ '•««'-«"'> 'he most ;■ Have they found out yet who the author is? " 1 believe they have." "How ver)- interesting! Do tell me. as I am con- sumed with curiosity on the subject." «„.' !i "i?*"- '* x.^ P^"°" somewhere in the East End " replied Major Newdigate. ' 76 f ^ It* Diavola "A parson! why, it isn't the sort of book that a clergyman would write," exclaimed Lady Serracold, with surprise. " Don't be too sure of that ! those parson chaps are cleverer than you think," the major assured her, " and this is a specially clever one. His name is Laurence- Austin Laurence— and he is one of the best preachers in London." Lady Serracold's face lost its usual mocking expres- sion, and became extremely interested. " Did you ever hear him?" she asked. " Once ; and it was the best sermon I ever heard in my life. It kept thrilling all down your back like an electric battery, don't you know, and made you want to dash out of church, and become a martyr or a missionary, or something, before you had your lunch." " I know." "And then he had such a fine voice and read the prayers so awfully well," continued the major enthusi- astically ; " you felt it quite a pleasure to keep the Com- mandments, he put them to you so nicely ; and he is such a good-looking chap into the bargain." " Yes, he is extremely handsome ; or, at any rate, he used to be in the days when I knew him. But I thought that he hated Diavola, and had cursed the author of it from the pulpit." "So he did; but that was just his sharpness. He knew well enough that public condemnation of a thing is about the best advert;se;iient that thing can have; and he was cute enoinjh to advertise his own book in that particular way. It was far more effective and orii 'iginal 77 Diavola a thing as that." "^™" '» ">« >«« man to do such The major raised his eyebrows. learnuLftheYas't'ot^r'l; ' "" "'^ '"°"-"'' »° ^ave ::i:in^&^^^-;-rt racold h«tir ''"fdotfr^':'"'^""^'^'^ ^<'y Ser- the days when I believL * u'"' " "" "°*: I'"' '" So he's TmeLti'g To t"aTt"^ ' "'""'"^ '" """■ gotten faith-like fto^e^e^g Ir the Pa^f °' V^ you know?" Her ladyship L°heS„!Sl' '"' lievedt^ht^ri^fj^ '" % <^r *"- y°" "e. curiosity. ^' ''■'"'' ^''J°'- Newdigate with some ver^'n^^r-"""' '"' ^^"^ ~"^' -«» -O- hard, and mnlZ\r:^^J '^""^"'"^^ "-» «>« Pa^Henon." tion^"' Serracold lau.h.d. and continued her descrip- andit.-^'- -' '' '-' -«-'^ upriLVar: are.^ouln'ow."'^ ^"" '° ^'"'"^ '" '°''' Some curates 78 Diavola "Merely as a recreation ; love was to him what foot- ball IS to some men, and whist to others." " What an admirable and withal wise young man I But you do not seem fully to appreciate his merits, Udy Serracold." " I hardly ever think of him ; but when I do, it is with respect. As I told you, it is ages since I saw him; but even now I feel I could hang wreaths upon him once a year, as if he were a statue or a tombstone." And then the conversation drifted into other chan- nels. How the rumour first got wind nobody knew ; but the generally-received opinion was that the popular preach- er, Austm Laurence, was the anonymous author of Diav- ola. And it was an opinion which had many and divers supporters: for the worid did not love the eloquent young prophet, who had so fearlessly denounced it and all that appertamed to it ; and was thankful for an excuse to turn again and rend him. At first Austin laughed the v.le calumny to scorn, and scouted the idea that any one could believe so monstrous a lie; but after a time it dawned upon him that people did believe it, and that consequently his popularity and— still worse— his influ- ence were on the wane. Valiantly the young priest faced the calumniatmg worid, and defied it ; but the lie gained ground all the same, and, like the grain of mustard seed grew so rapidly and to such huge dimensions, that all' those httle birds who carry round the gossip, joyfully made their nests in the branches of it. At last the report became such a scandal that his bishop spoke to Lau- rence on the subject, and told the young vicar that it was his duty either to prove the falsity of the charge, or else 79 '^^■^^ mm^' •"ooeory usoiution tist chait (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) A APPLIED IN/MGE In ^B". '6S3 Eott Moin StrMi g'-ig Roch««t#r, New York 14609 US* ■.aae (7t6) 4S2 - OJOO - Phona ^= (7161 288 - 5989 - Fa» DiavoJa i^^^hir.sJfi^'JyZ^^'i^J'^': 'hat he declined to curates and lav-helnir °"" dismissed all the not long aLftht fere ~^^^^ '"."'^ '^"-ge; and deigning to offer any exoW; ""' ^T^ '"=°' ^"hout but natural in a man of wfrr- ^°°"^'^' doubtless, persons of his type of^„H:' ''™P"'"'"' = '°^ '° spite their faces rcomeTio""'"? ""^ '*'"' "°-'' '° tion as vaccination ZhoT "' '"'^''"''' ^" °P««- quick by the thrght^;'^2 L^r" •l"^'' ''"" *° '''^ whom he had wof ked cIm h , *'*' T^ ^^""^ «nd for thing, he could not tpelt^^^^^^^^^^^ f"'^ °' ^"'^ savoured of his style and Zf k '""'^'' '" ^'^^°''' though the matter 'was unsp akab^abh""" "" '"'' The voice that snake w^ r t.. \ abhorrent to him. the hands of Esau a„d he a' ''"' "'^ "^"''^ ^«^c of the traitor who had th»,K^^ *° '^'"'°^" '^e name away his bleslg o'e thr.T?''' '""^"^ ^"^ "»'^^" Laurence in the vallev of '''°"f' .^'°"« «Pheld Austin was travelling- nlielv the""" '•'°" *''^°"^'' ^^ch he all men spoke ev"uft-' ';°°=<=l°"^ness that, though guiltless of the sin t^To Irt "^'' °! ''^='^^" ''<= -- iron entered into hs soul -^ ^'^'" ^""^"^eless the to scorn by a ^rd e ^^f an^ hTt 'l"^^" '^^"' "^ truth sneered at as a cunnint !. testimony to the tention to the bo^k h "hT^ advertisement to draw at- addition to hL oThtti:tr"o"'!:' *° '^"°""- ^^ rence in the face; for as^nTh.r "^ f°" ''""^ Lau- had given away all th" Lta'Torharr ^ '' treasure for himself against the iv°fi.H'^ up no -n,o„of„„HghteoUs:tt7„'etr/,,^^^^^^^^ 80 Diavola and now that he had failed, its habitations v-ere not open to him. But the end was not yet himlliT'^ h"°u!!' '*■' """°'^ °' J°'^P'''"« haunted h.m m these dark days as it had not haunted him for years. Now that he was cut off from his former muS' fanous dut.es, he had time to remember that she had not kissed Captain Tarletan alter all, and that the real Josephme and the ideal Josephine were again reunitedTn one person. All the old feelings, which had lain stagnan" for years came over him, like accumulated interest in the savmgs-bank, which increases all the more quickly when no applied for; and he remembered with tenderness the old days at Sunningly. He realized, with distressing clearness, that Josephine would never have believed a word against him, whatever the world might say; and he could not help smiling as he imagined the extremely vig- orous and injudicious epithets she would have applied to all those (not even excluding the bishop) who had leagued themselves together against him. He also won- dered why it had not occurred to him to kick Captain larletan on that memorable evening in the conservatory • and he blamed himself for the omission. He would not actually have kicked the man, he decided— it would have degraded his cloth to do so; but it degraded his man- hood not to have wanted to do so, and for this he thought scorn of himself. It also distressed Austin to recall how Mrs. Lumley had told him that Josephine's marriage was not a happy one : and then he wanted to kick Sir George berracold for not making her happy : and then he wanted to kick himself for having made her so dreadfully un- happy all those years ago : and then he wondered if she were much altered, and if the curly wisp of hair, that 8i Diavola CTOund A„H ft, '"^^'"'°" °v"- the same delightful hive be-entgeS:" ff'h'e laf °/ !L°" '"''P^^ ^''^^ " '^''' «i lugemer it Jie had not been such a self-rive-and perchance Yours, as you made me, "Josephine Serracold." knew'ir.t'h-''* ^"f " ^°''"^ •"■= •'^^d ■■" his hands, and knew that h.s cup of anguish was filled to the brim No 83 Diavola longer could he stand upright in his integrity and defy t) ; calumniating world ; no longer could he raise a bold ■ front among his fellows, and protest in his innocence; for he felt that in the sight of heaven he verily and indeed was the author of Diavola. 84 AN ARTISTIC NEMESIS " She is a lovely girl. Tredennis ; I don't know when 1 nave seen a more attractive face." " Yes, she is very pretty ; and I also think she is one of the most interesting-looking women I have ever come across. .u- " ^"'"["t-ng-that's it; and that's the best of every- thmg! There are scores of handsome women in the world, and ten times as many pretty ones. But the in- terestmg women are scarce-confoundedly scarce when one is well over thirty." Tredennis sighed. " Yes, there is a terrible sameness about women, I must confess. Their expressions are different ; but what musicians would call their underlying ntottf IS the same." * His brother artist laughed. " My dear fellow, there IS nothmg to sigh about in that. It is one of the most sustammg facts in existence; because if you once take the trouble to understand one woman thoroughly, the rest of the sex are as printed posters to you. You never have to go over the same ground again ; and, as in skat- lea^r^^d •^' "^' ^°" "^''^ '°'^^* '*'''" ''°" ''^''' °"" ".Lf?, "x°* ^ '"■■* °' "'^t •" '^°"'"^'l Will Tredennis. Well, I am," asseverated ~ 87 George Carteret. An Artistic Nemesis h. Ijf^^^'' """^"^ '" *"*"" ''"■ » '«« minutes; then !f ^' ° y°" ''"°* anything about the girl ' " Only what I have learned from our excellent land- lady : namely that she comes here for quiet now and then and hates to be disturbed ; and that she works very hard w. h her pen-too hard. I shou.J say. for so young and dehcate-lookmg an individual. I conclude that she is a newspaper woman, and can not afford to take a regular holiday; so comes to this cheap and out-of-the-way place !?^tT °l."™-'J«'*=''ed vacation in which she works a" the time. Treden'iljl ""'*' ^'' ' ^^^ ^°°^' '"''^ ""'' °^'«'«d." said <:., ^,f"'? '''"^''"'- " ^'""y ""'*= S'^'' I should say I i>he has the most wonderful blue eyes I ever saw-the eyes of a child who has once peeped into heaven, and is now trymg all she knows to get another peep ; and her heart is breaking because she can not get it. I mean to pamt her as the Peri entering Paradise." ■' Oh, Carteret 1 I shouldn't do that." " Why not, may I ask. most wise and tiresome coun- sellor r " Because she seems so young and inexperienced, and It would spoil her life if she fell in love with you. And shed be sure to do so; your lady-sitters invariably do" George stroked his handsome moustache with de- ight. " I don't know about that." he purred (but he be- lieved It implicitly): "I suppose I'm a good-lookinR chap in my way. but I don't see why every woman should think so. Probably our iittle blue-eyed friend will be an exception." " Not she ; you won't let her be an exception. ' You'll I An Artistic Nemesis make her fall in love with , m, and then you'll follow your usual programn- and .ide away. And what will become of the poor little girl then ? " Carteret shrugged his shoulden;. " I don't know, my dear fellow, and I don't care. Perhaps I shall fall in love with her." " Not you— with a newspaper woman I You would never marry a girl without money or position, however pretty she was; you are far too consistent and devout a Mammon-worshipper for that." " That is true. May Fate deliver me from a marriage with a woman who is nobody and has nothing! But I dont mind amusing myself with the species; they are often much more attractive than the eligible young ladies. I think I shall give those wonderful blue eyes another peep into heaven. I should like to see how they look when all the sadness has gone out of them; and that is how they will look when she sits for my Peri." " For shame, Carteret ! Would you break a woman's heart to make your picture more effect've? " " Undoubtedly so : I should feel it my duty to sacri- fice a woman's feelings for my art ; and when the woman IS as pretty as this one the duty becomes a pleasure " Well I call it a beastly shame! You would not thmk of playing with a smart girt in that way ; then why should you with a girt who is poor and downtrodden? " Simply because she is poor and downtrodden. As you say, I shouldn't dare to trifle with the affections-if she had any— of a woman of fashion." Tredennis smoked on savagely. " I am disgusted wth you, Carteret. You will spoil that poor child's life And she isn't such a child as you suppose, which makes 89 An Artistic Nemesis sot/inov"''" ^°' *'"■ ^^' '* "'"^^ "■"" 'he looks ; .ad so will love as a woman and not as a child " will .rrn! ^""^^"u l-?''"^- " ^'"^f »"'' """'^n'" It and^e f*^ '''"' ^°^'^' amusement for both the girl a summer wasted. .'.' m^'AV' ^"^ ^'■''* """'^ " «''''«d Tredennis. T .u . f """' *° ""'"' '""'"^ss informed me- and I Kathered from the same source that the old lady in charge of the fair Matilda-whom I take to be her rm/;!f'-M'~".'^"°^" '° ^''''"^ ''y 'he absurd pet name of Narty,' but to the less favoured public by L ■mpressive cognomen of Miss Amelia Cox " Tredenms smiled in spite of himself. " Miss Amelia t^m- and r^'.'r'f P^"°"- She is an ultra-PrTtel tant . and the s.ght of the convent opposite is a source of never-faihng mterest and horror to Ter. She spoke to me to-day. while I was sketching by the stream and e^- She ha, T "' '"""^ ""^'' "' '° 'he evils of Popeo". She has-to put it mildly-an ingrained prejudice who l;e „1 "''^"' *° ''^"'^ ^' J''""' «°^t people who are not so w.se or s6 fortunate as to belong to her special denomination " * Poor. W^fow, little Matilda! She has mv hearti- est sympathy," sighed Tredennis ^ Carteret laughed. " I hope I sha'n't make her dis- 90 An Artistic Nemesis satisfied with the men of her own class.' he remarked, with much conceit. "'""j, ■• I expect you will ; for you really are a handsome fel- tow, George, though just now you are behaving like a rnnZ"'?^^''' ^^' ^'" °"«''" '° '«'^<= ^""^ heartiest dear W.U; for the woman to whom I am happening at the n'oment to make love. has. for the time bring, the most delightful experience. I flatter myself that I am a past master in the art. Why, bless you. my dear fellow I if the girl has the artistic temperament-as with those eyes she is bound to hav.--she will enjoy the pastime as much as I shall, and it will do her no more harm " And then the young men rose from the seat under he shadow of the mn. where they had been smokin --n the summer twilight, and strolled up the hill to Ir^^ a final look at the view before turning in George Carteret and Will Tredennis were on a sketching tour, and had stopped at Mawgan, that most picturesque of all Cornish villages. They had already been there for three days, and on the morrow Tredennis was going on to Tintagel, while Carteret meant to stay at Mawgan to make some more sketches in that delight- ul neighbourhood. In a week's time they were to meet agam at Penzance and do the south of Cornwall together, the only other visitors staying at the little rose-cov- ered mn were the ladies so freely discussed by the two artists. They were right in saying that Matilda Dunn was attractive. She was tall and fair and delicate-look- ing, but with that capacity for hard work which only dehcate-lookmg women possess. Miss Amelia Cox was 7 9' An Artistic Nemesis ^dZ'^T ''^"f «-!°<"''"g; but she was a cheerful, the tr, ^ r '' 1^"°'^'^ ^^ " P'^'°"»t« devotion to the girl under her charge. The following day Tredennis left ; and then Carteret devoted himself to bringing that look into Matilda's eyes which would render her fit to be the model for his Peri. It was not difficult to make friends with Miss Cox-she was only too ready t^ enter into sociable conversation with any one, as she found Mawgan decidedly dull • and she soon pointed out to George Carteret its obvious in- fenonties, as a holiday resort, to Margate. Of Miss Cox George intended to make a stepping-stone to lead to Miss Dunn ; and m a few hours he had established most friendly relations between himself and the elder of his fellow-tounsts. By tea-time Miss Cox had already treated him to short biographies of all the ministers whom she had " sat ",, r ^ ll"?"^ **' '=°"'''' °^ ^" ^"Wy pilgrimage ; and she had added to this semi-theological instruction much information of a more personal character. She had informed him that her departed father had, in the days of his flesh, kept a small bookseller's shop in Blooms- bury, but that he made so little profit thereby that she and her sisters had all been obliged to earn their re- spective livings. Son^e of the sisters had married and had had children; but wealth had never been an appendage of the Cox family, or of any of its collaterals. And al- though her surviving sisters were what Miss Amelia called " fairly comfortable in their old age," all their daughters had to work in their turn as their mothers had done before them. She even went so far after supper as to confide in George that one of her nieces, who worked 92 An Artistic Nemesis in a telegraph office, was receiving " honourable atten- tions " from a young man whose father owned an ex- tensive grocery business; and the Cox family were ap- parently dazzled by the brilliant prospect which this opened out "If Maria catches that young man," concluded Maria's proud aunt, " she need never soil her fingers with work again as long as she lives, for she'll have a little servant of her own from the day she is married ; take my word for it ! " Having charmed Miss Amelia, George devoted the next day to the conquest of Matilda ; and was even more pleased with his success. At first the girt seemed shy, and a little in awe of him; but gradually her reserve thawed, and George found her a delightful companion. She did not talk much, but she listened attentively; and the naive comments she made upon all that he told her, showed that there was much intelligence, and also a quamt humour, hidden away under her demure exterior. After this, the friendship between the two throve apace. At first the giri was loth to neglect her work; but soon she succumbed to Carteret's tender entreaties, and left her writing to take care of itself while she sst by him and watched him sketching. As they thus sat together during the long summer days, George strove his utmost to captivate the giri's fancy ; and gradually he was rewarded by seeing the look he longed for steal into her blue eyes. Those wonderful eyes ceased to be sad when he was there, and brightened up at the mere sound of his footstep. Matilda did not talk of her relations, as George had feared. She was a woman of infinite tact, and she soon 93 An Artistic Nemesis Ihoul^ T^'^l' "^''^ '"'''^^'*^'' him most were the houghts and words and works of George Carteret. Esq. ; so those subjects occupied most of the conversation be- tween them-^specially as Matilda found them almost as mterestmg as he did. George told her the story of his life (that is to say, h.s own personally compiled edition of it-the edition wh.ch he had persuaded himself was true, but whkh Ws mnmate friends and relations knew to be chiefly fi t .ous); and confided to her his intentions of cutting out all nval artists, and of setting the Thames on fire for °he warmmg of h.s own hands ; and showed forth to her the Utter vdeness and ignorance of those beam-eyed crit cs who, out of sheer jealousy, pretended that they perceS motes m h.s finest productions. Matilda listened w^an mterest that almost assumed the appearance of a^e, h was so senous; and the blue eyes softened at George's flashed at the ev.l do.ngs of the envious critics till even his egregious vanity was satisfied. ^one-r/'"'' ^"y "^' *■" ""^ *° -J^^* «»'^n ^ am gone, he frequently said to himself. But there was no P.ty m.xed with the thought-nothing but v "trHe was proud to think he was writing his name so indeliSy eLtV ^^°r^ '"^" *''^* "° =f'«' y^ars would efface the scar. That scars are not unmixed joys to their S^dintir "" °^^"^ " •"- ■' -' '^ -""^ - •>- voice^'n!: ' ''' 'f ''' °"' '"°™'"^' '" ^'' «""«* «ressi..g vo.ce I have a favour to ask of my little queen. Do you th,nk she will grant it to me? " He had taken to call her Matt.e ; he thought it a prettier name than MatUdr 94 An Artistic Nemesis The girl shyly raised her eyes to his. " It seems funny for you, who are such a great artist and such a clever man, to ask favours of me." "You sweet, simple darling! Don't you know that beauty makes every woman such a powerful queen in her own nght that all men-even the cleverest-are her sub- jects ? And George fairly bridled with pride as he said even the cleverest." i»^ !'.?"* you-you-are so diflferent from all the rest," Matilda added timidly. " Only in your eyes, dearest— the sweetest eyes in the whole worid. I am not much better nor much worse than other men of my class." Now George would have been mortally offended if any one else had said he was no better-and much more so If any one else had said he was no worse— than other men. But we all say things of ourselves-and of others —that we should never forgive others for saying of us. " Do you mean that all real gentlemen are as wise and as clever and as learned as you are, Mr. Carteret I " and the sweet face grew incredulous. " My sweetheart, how often have I told you not to say Mr. Carteret! Unless my little girt says George. I won't answer any of her questions." " But I don't like to say George to a real gentleman. 1 m sure Nanty wouldn't like me to call you that." " Never mind Nanty— mind me. You see, I call you Mattie, so why shouldn't you call me Georgef " The giri shook her head. " You don't call me Mattie when Nanty is by. I've noticed that." ur ■??''^^ '- Jghed. " What a dear little innocent it is ! Well, look here, we'll make a compromise : when Nanty 9S ^»n Artistic Nemesis is listening we'll say Miss Dunn and Mr. Carteret, and when she isn't we'll say Mattie and George. Will that "I don't know; I'm not sure that it's quite proper for me to call you George even when Nanty isn't lis- tening." "Sweetheart, don't look so distressed about it : you'll get lines across your white forehead and crowsfeet round youT pretty eyes if you take trifles so much to heart. Now say George once, just to show that you'll do always what I want, and not what Nanty wants." The girl looked down and was silent, making patterns on the ground with the point of her little shoe. " Say it," persisted George. " George," she whispered, " I don't believe there is anybody in the whole world like you." George felt a wild longing to take her there and then in his arms and cover her face with kisses ; but some- how, for all her naivete, there was an innate dignity about the girl that held him back. " And now that I have done as you bid me, tell me what is the favour you want to ask," she said. " You know that I am going to paint a great picture for next year's Academy." Matilda npdded. " I know : the one you read me the beautiful poem about, don't you me'an ? " - " Yes ; and I want to make a sketch of you, so that my Peri's face may be yours. Then if my picture is a great success— as I mean it to be— it will be the triumph of your beauty and my art in one." The giri flushed with joy, and almost held her breath. " Oh ! you don't think I'm pretty enough for 96 An Artistic Nemesis that, do you?— for my face to live for ever on your canvas?" " I do, my sweet; I think you are beautiful enough for Michael Angelo to have painted you as an angel. So you'll let me make a sketch of your head, won't you? " " Of course I will But it seems almost too good to be true I Nanty will be proud to see me in a picture." " All the world will be proud of you when they see your face as I shall paint it," replied the artist grandilo- quently; but Matilda gazed at him as if his utterances had been those of an inspired prophet instead of a very conceited young man. " I shall paint you ':. a blue, clinging garment," con- tmued Carteret. "A woman's cloihes should always match her eyes." " Should they ? How clever you are to know all these things I " So George made a sketch of Matilda's head, with the expression in her eyes which they wore when they caught sight of him coming toward her in the old inn garden. And because the artist in a man is something apart from the man himself, George's work was wholly good, and the face on the canvas was verily the face of an angel. As for Matilda, she put away her writing altogether, and gave herself up entirely to the enjoyment of George's society. He was happy enough, for he was in the en- viable position of people who think that they are in love and know that they are not. And because he was happy he was attractive— the two frequently go together; so he laid himself out to make the present as full, and the future as empty, as possible to ths girl beside him. 97 An Artistic Nemesis Of course lie told Matilda that he loved her : and of |i ii : course he said he could not ask her to marry him until he had talked the matter over with his father, as he was principally dependent on that father's allowance : and of course he had no intention of doing any such thing, or of ever mentioning the name of Matilda Dunn to George Carteret pire. But the wondering blue eyes drank in every word he said, and there was no shadow of doubt to cloud their childlike wonder. Mattie was very quiet the day before he left Mawgan, but she was not the sort of girl to vex a man with tears and hysterics. " Tell me your address," she said as they walked by the stream that last evening, " so that I may know where to write to you." But George was wary. " I can't do that, darting, for my plans are so uncertain; but I'll write to you in a couple of days, and let you know where I am and what I am going to do." " Promise that you will write to me soon," Matilda entreated. " I promise." "Faithfully?" " Yes, faithfully." But still the sweet face looked anxious. " Will you give me your word of honour that you'll write to me by next Monday at the latest? Because to-day is only Wednesday, and it is a long time from Wednesday till Monday, you know." " Of course I will, you silly Hi ,le girl." " Say it, then," persisted Matilda. 98 An Artistic Nemesis George laughed. How deliciously simple she was he thought. " I give you my word of honour that ni write to you before next Monday. There, will that do ? " Matilda gave a little sigh of pure contentment Yes; because real gentlemen always keep their word. don t they? At least, Nanty says they do." George laughed again. The middle-class female mud was elementary, he decided. " Of course they do you httle Didymus of a child." ' The next morning George Carteret said goodbye to Matilda and to Miss Cox, with many promises of future meetings, none of which he kept or ever meant to keep, bo the girl had to take up her work again without him and Mawgan saw him no more. When Monday morning came, MatUda looked anx- iously out for the promised letter, and again on Tuesday and Wednesday. But it never came then, nor on any following Monday or Tuesday or Wednesday. The next spring found George Carteret on a very pmnacle of vaulting ambition, for his picture of the Peri was hung on the line, and pronounced one of the best pictures o* that year's Academy. But in vain did Ma- tilda s eyes appeal to him from the open gates of paradise. o" h!;tri-f C ""' "^'' "''^*^"'=^' -^^ ^^ «>« "x^^' Early in the season there was a large ball at Lady Silvertompton's; and as George was making his waj toough the crowded rooms his hostess tapped him o^ "Oh! Mr. Carteret, Udy Maud Duncan has asked me to present you to her. She hag sew your picture Md wants to talk to you about it." ' ' ^ /"*"- ?'"""• 99 An Artistic Nemesis George's heart fairly swelled with pride. This, he felt, was fame; for Lady Maud Duncan was the only child and heiress of the wealthy Earl of Comleydale, and a celebrated beauty to boot, and one of the most brilliant novelists of the day into the bargain. Not to know Lady Maud was indeed to argue oneself unknown ; while to be known by her was to be in Society. Lady Silverhampton piloted George to a secluded seat in a flowery alcove, where an exquisitely-dressed young woman was sitting alone; and then pronounced the magic words of introduction and left him. His con- ventional bow, however, was arrested half-way ; for the girl sitting on the secluded seat was none other than Matilda Dunn. " How do you do, Mr. Carteret?" she began, with an easy assurance that had not characterized her in the Mawgan days ; " ' am so glad to meet you here to-night, for I have heaps of things to say to you." And she made room for him beside her on the settee. " I don't understand," said George limply, as he sat down. " Of course you don't. How could you ? But I am going to explain." All the starch had suddenly gono out of George; so he remained silent, and waited for further revela- tions. Lady Maud continued : " You see, it is impossible for me to find time either in London or at Comleydale to write my books, we have so many visitors and know such heaps of people ; so when I am working at a novel, I fly incog, to some remote country place, and there go on with my writing in peace. On these occasions I always 100 An Artistic Nemesis rail myself Miss Matilda Dunn; and my old nurse Amelia Cox, goes with me to Uke care of me." "Oh! I see." George looked strangely ill at ease tor so distmguished an artist. Lady Maud began to laugh. " Now I am coming to the amusmg part of my story. I happened to be sit- tmg at my open window that evening at Mawgan when you confided to Mr. Tredennis your praiseworthy inten- tion to tnfle with the youthful ailections of Matilda Uunn; and I thought what fun it would be to fool you to the top of your bent, and to use up all the idiotic things you might say as ' copy ' for the story I was then writ- ing. Do you follow me ? " whit/*'*'''"^' ^^^ ^*'""" ^*^*"'''' f«« w« very " At first you bored me a little, I must confess ; you were so very conceited, and had to have your flattery laid on so awfully thick. But after a time I warmed to my work and immensely enjoyed hearing you make an idiot of yourself. I have so often wondered what sort of silly things silly men say to girls whom they think silly. Now I know. George's lips trtmbled. " Do you think such treat- ment was fair, may I ask?" Her ladyship shrugged her white shoulders. " Most cerUinly. You meant to make a fool of me for the sake of your picture: I meant to make a fool of you for the sake of my book : m what were we not quits ? " " Is it the custom, then, to caricature the men who love you ? " Never-never : if I sank as low as that, I should be on a par with you, Mr. Carteret. I consider that a wom- lOI An Artistic Nemesis an who plays with a man's affection is as contemptible I could put It stronger I would, but I can't " Wge's brow was damp with misery. "I can't think how I came to be such a confounded ass." And I can't think how you came to be fuch a-con- ounded cad " And Udy Maud went off into a S "f silvery laughter. " It is really horrid for you," shelon mued, through her merriment; 'I can not deny hath ■s. For every one will recognize you when my „ove comes out-which will be in a week or two from "ow and as every one w.U recognize me as the woman in youi^ aTthe fil?' 7^. "il' "^ ""' ^^- ^^^^^^ '-'• '^■"'^- thinl „f 1 ",!^'''" '''" ^°'''' ^"' ^y- " I know any- th ng of the world. And the world despises people who are laughed at, my dear Mr. Carteret " too?X r '"'•"' '■ "'" ""'"^y ^"^ ''^~'°«K «'"'o^t too terrible for a van man to bear vou"th™ t" °' '' "" '""''" ^''y M"""! ««nt on. " that rthfsT/.. ""r ?'""y y°""8= »"d I W^-^ed you am u'"h •""'!! °' ""^ '''''^^»- As a matter of fact irthtnest!:dd°e;T"''.= '"' "'* -"^ "S"^' hair and my tmnness— added to a simple and Pirlish toilette- Srtxr"Tr''"''"^-^'^-*'"^ pass tor eighteen. This is very satisfactory." _ You are the moSt heartless woman I ever saw " You misjudge me; I am only taking a leaf o„t secret , I made up my mind that if after all you repented and wrote the letter as you had promised I woudS you down as genUy as I could, and would not^ut ylu 103 An Artistic Nemesis into my novel at all. I looked out for that letter o„ Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday ; and I oSed out have hke a gentleman at last, and so render mt ncapab e of making any use of one of the cleverest and most amu ! mg character-studies I ever portrayed. ButTortu^t ly be laughmg w.th me at you by this time next month." chie? He fTPP'** .■"", ''^°* ^'"^ his pocket-handker- cniet. He felt positively sick. to Z^^lirSV-^'^ """" ""'"K" I want to say to you, Lady Maud nppled o., r voice shaking with you shouir: ""'T- "^°" "'" '° ^^- Tredenn^Th t woman of fashion. You haven't An/i t «« ««-><. ti udvcn I, Ana 1 am sure vou can t blame me for talking too much about mv rdaTions for I never once told you that Lord Comley^ale ' was a' sp m 'Alrr' "' '"=" "^ '^"^ ' suffered I;"™ spasms. Also I can assure you that you have not as you feared, made me at all ' dissatisfied with the mei o my own class.' Oh I it is really all too funn- ! " A^d the girl gave way to unrestrained laughter. ' As for George, he was past speaking, and could only bury his face in his hands and groan ^ .,-l'7^r\l' """ ^"""^ °' Camstaple looking for me " Goodbye Mr. Carteret: I'm so glad to have met you again and had this nice long talk with you. Tnd you a'nTllnt TtH^ ' ''''' ^°* '"' artistic temp^ram^ 103 I THE HISTORY OF DELIA THE HISTORY OF DELIA I KNOW that it is the fashion nowadays for people to wnte the.r own lives, and to give an accurate diagnosis of all their feelings for the benefit of the world ; so as I am nothing if not modem (fin-de-siick I used to call myself last year, but have discarded the expression since now It seems a century behind the time), I have decided to write my autobiography, and to give as graphic an account as m me lies of the workings of that which I am pleased to call my mind. Nevertheless the task is not as easy as at first sight It appears. First, in describing events, it is so difficult to distinguish between what really haipened, and what ought to have happened if one were w;:!:ing a novel in- stead of a biography : in fact this difficulty is so great that few biographers succeed in overcoming it ; and this is the reason why biography, as a rule, is readable. And, sec- ondly, it is impossible to find out, to one's own satisfac- tion, what sort of a person oneself— the leading lady of the piece— actually is : and it is very confusing to write a book, and know so little about one's heroine. For instance, mother thinks I am a child, Mr. Satterthwaite thinks I am a girl, and I think I am a woman : and good- ness knows which of us is right I If is no light matter to sit down to tell a story without even knowing what gen- The History of Delia eration one s heroine belongs to. It ;» bad enough not to know what century one is i„, which everybody vvas quarrelhng about last year : but it is even «.-' puLhng not o know which generation one is in-nc , feel surf whet e ht to be dressing dolls, or writing lov letters, or making one's will. As for me, I feel quite an old woman-I am turned one and-twenty-and that is wbv I have decided to write story at all. However, that, I suppose, is true of everv- one who-unlike the knife-grinder-has a story to te« It IS only when our stories are other people's stories that «iey are worth the telling-which sounds like a pa dox but IS really only a platitude. Just as it is only wherone has given oneself to another person, that one be^ns to possess one's own soul. All of which sounds verrpuz! J.ng till one has learned how to do it : and then it seems the simplest thing in the world. And this brings me to the point that my story is reallv Gilbert Satterthwaite's story : his life was the primed ma^ ter, and mine only the meadow of margin through wWch the nvulet of text meandered, as Sir Benjamin lackS Of my life has been nothing but margin, like mv eood- a'nda fieTd o^" ' ^"^^ ""'^ "''' "" ^"^^ -'^-'-- = IS hMf K '^'"' '""'' "° "^"'^' °f 'yP<= to water it ■s but a barren pasture for the reading public to brow e upon. Neither is it a cheerful and salubrious ste wheT ! on to build one's dwelling-house and take up o^el abode: but now I am afraid I am confusing my meta Phors-a trick my tutor never could endure io8 The History of Delia I am an only child, and it is very dull to be an only child. I think that children— like tea-things— should al- ways be in sets. It would be absurdly inconvenient to have only one cup-and-saucer in a house : and it would be dreadfully dull for the cup-and-saucer. I often wish I'd had a brother to help me to understand Gilbert Sat- terthwaite ; and a sister to help me to misunderstand him. It wo d have made everything so much more interest- ing and amusing. But the fact that I am an only child, and a very solitary one, leaves all the more room in my heart for the taking in of lodgers. When a family-party fills a house, there is no space for visitors : and I think hearts are a good deal like houses in this respect. Wherefore it came to pass that when onre Gilbert Sat- terthwaite appeared above my horizon-line, he soon filled up half the landscape; so that such part of my life as he had no share in, could be put upon the point of a needle without overflowing. Gilbert was Lady Summerford's agent, and lived alone at the agent's house—" The Agency " he used to call it— in the comer of Summerford Park. Lady Sum- merford herself was a very wonderful person— one of those people who seem to spend their lives in cotton- wool and tissue-paper, and to be altogether too good and too beautiful for everyday use. Wherever she went, men and women fell down and worshipped her: they in- stinctively gave her the best ..i everything, and she took It all as her right with the most gracious smile in the world. She was never too late for anything, because nothmg began until she arrived ; and however crowded an assembly might be when she entered, the best seat in the room was at once vacated for her use; and the per- 109 The History of Delia i' -h»xei ,* ™; r„ T„ «;* ^ri clever L I '' ^'"f *"' "°*- Gilbert was verj clever and knew something about eve-^thing; and he used to give me lessons when I was a child He wal sorry for me, he said, because I seemed - so only and so ZI'J:^/ ^^'^^ f^"^^^ *° '« - come up to Th^ Agency and do some lessons with him. Oh, whatTovdv "a ™ '' ''='-;°^«her! All the iessol Jet Mr L3 'u"'^ '"" "'"^^ ^^^-"'t »° bad when no The History of Delia I despise, as coarse and elephantine, men who are bigger than he. It never struck me that he was too Uttle — only that other men were too big: just as it never strikes the Summerford people that they are too old — only that I am too young ; and I really am not, being turned one-and-twenty. I never was clever, but I worked hard to please Mr. Satterthwaite ; I 'ead all the books that he recommended, so that by the time I was seventeen I was what people call " well-informed " — a horrid word, I.r. Satterthwaite used to say. My father and mother are the rector of Summerford. That also sounds like a paradox to those who don't know them ; but the parish would understand that it is a plain statement of a very palpable fact. They are very kind to me ; but their tastes rather than mine rule the estab- lishment, two to one being a good working majority for any government — especially for a government as strong as mother. She never cared for Mr. Satterthwaite : she said that he made fun of her, and that no sound church- man would make fun of his rector's wife. Of course no ordinary sound churchman would, and of course it is al- ways wrong to make fun of sacred things ; but Gilbert's fun was the most delightful thing imaginable, and gave . one a delicious feeling of being pelted with rose leaves. I used to love it when he made fun of me : but then I'm not a clergyman's wife and so there was nothing wicked in laughing at my mistakes. Mother and I never enjoy the same things ; and it always strikes me as funny that father's sermons don't bore her, while Gilbert's jokes did. Yet Gilbert Satterthwaite was the one man in all the world who never could have bored anybody — at least so I should have thought : and sermons are somehow always III The History of Delia i hand the strait paths ^h^'^^'^Z'^Z''' ''""^ ^''^^^- 1-ad you, and the bypa'h "11' "T'^"-'' "« going to are meant to warn/ou ajy "'''' '"' *"'^ days wLVm' Sat^S^warr'^^ " ="' ^'^'^"^ ^''e 'ong ago. Only one or two T ^ '"'°^' "^^^ ^^^ ^° 'he rest run to/ethe .nto a sort"of °"' "'''"'"^'^- ""^ shot with gold, hke a "1" er ^ °^ rose-coloured haze special occasio;s which 7"!:, '''"'"• ^"' °"- «' the Lady Summerford .nterrL ed i""\' """^'"^ ^^^^^^ tling down to work. She wL lit ^"f '" ^' ^"^ «-'- in a white muslin dress trilmlTv! '°''"''" "'^" "="^'. large black hat • and sU ^^ <^ ""^^ '^"' ^"'l « stuck into her b ack Jaltban/ a "'" °' "■'"''°" ■•-- (which she always did at The A '°°" " "^^ '"'^^^'^ or ringing), the ex„r«- '^f'"'^^ ^'"'°"t knocking f-cly rummeir^cre '^'' 'j"^ '° '^'^ "^^' face. It was such a strl? , ? ^'^ ^atterthwaite's brought it into hi, face 1^' '^''' '""^ "° ""^ ^ver veil, it seemed to b , ntended tfh"^ '°^ °' '"""""^y neath; though what that sol ^ =°™^"''ng ""der- makeout. ^"^ '"""^'hmg was, I never could he?"'s^id?r'Llroar''"^ ^°"^ ^"^"-"o". is in. elegantly intoif :^;;:2 "' '"' ^""^ '"'" ^'"'^- ford i's%o'm"Sficert2'V''^'^' ^^"^^ ^ummer- Plain and awkS "d ' ""'"y^ ""^de me feel a very comfoSle jeetr""''" ^ '"' *^' '^ -' "P- little g,Vl,...,e went on, with her musical 112 The History of Delia laugh ; " why can't he let you play i:j the sunshine with- out troubling you with lessons? Life will bring them soon enough, and then you will have to learn them whether you will or no." " Not necess-rily," put in Gilbert. " Some people ap- pear to skip life's lesson-book witn enviable ease, and to be extraordinarily uneducated at the end of it." Lady Summerford laughed again. " There are so few thmgs worth learning, that it is often cleverer to skip than to read. True cleverness consists in discrimi- nating how much may be skipped and how little need be learned— just as the most reliable memory is the one which knows exactly how little it is necessary, or even wise, to remember." " Ah ! I haven't a good memory." I looked up at my tutor with surprise. " You?— not a good memory? Why, Mr. Satterthwaite, you never forget anything." " I know. That is where my memory is so defec- tive." " You had better come to me for lessons than to him, little one. I can teach you far more things worth know- ing than he can. He will only teach you the things that are not worth knowing." I felt so angry at this that I forgot my shyness for a moment. " Oh, no ! Lady Summerford, you are mis- taken—isn't she ? " I added, looking up into my tutor's face for confirmation. " No : she is quite right." And his expression was more inscrutable than ever. Lady Summerford seemed amused. " You had bet- ter change your teacher, child," she said, stretching out 113 The History of Delia k^c'etZ' '""' «r«si„gly, .' and transfer your alle- gance from my cousin to me." I f VT^'"'^ '^°"''' *"= *'^«'" Gilbert added own'sake tL^r"'' ""'t" •""'• ^' """ '^"'■'''y fo' your own sake that I was oflering the advice." aliv^wth reS'^'c'h"' '°r'' ''^^ •"=«"«"' '- „,i,; u T "^"^^^- Choose between us, Httle Delia • . '^''a' nonsense we are talking! You will be tWnV mg us two very silly old people, Delia " ^" «e him about rebuilding Sl'i;™ ^^ ''^ """' ''"'^ 114 The History of Delia "All right: ril go this afternoon." would be better " °^ *""* morning hurry abouuhe h nf a'"' ""' '^ ""' "'^ ^"^'"-t a;terlu„ch.ifyouaresosetr::;yst!!,j;britr of others. * ""^y "^a" fo"" 'he sake .00. s.4er thaX ^^^ ,1^ ^otf,— ^ i-er^ffrr;sr^r*--^-- »o-k.- ""'''" "'"' '" ""y Impomni 115 The History of Delia and tell me wlut Wiliianisun lias decided about the cot- tages." Mr. Satterthwaite also rose, and drew himself up to about three-quarters of Lady Summerford's full height. " It would be more convenient to me to go to William- son's farm this afternoon," he said very politely : " but, as your ladyship's paid servant, I am bound to obey your ladyship's commands." " And it would be more convenient to my ladyship for you to go this morning," she called over her shoul- der, as she strolled out of the open French-window. " I shall expect you to lunch at two o'clock." So I got a holiday that I had not bargained for. While we were having tea one afternoon, a long time after this, mother said to father : " '^ou appear to me somewhat worried, William, love. Is anything wrong in the parish ? Because, if so, I will put it straight at once." " No, Selina, there is nothing wrong in the parish, as one may say " (father always qualifies his statements by expressions such as " so to speak," " as one may say," and the like : I think he feels that they somehow give him a loophole of escape when he has to explain them away afterward to mother) ; " but I have heard a rumour to- day which has caused me uneasiness — considerable un- easiness, in fact ; considerable uneasiness." It is funny how preaching lecomes a habit with some men, so that they never leave it off even in their own homes. " And what is that, love? " asked mother, with par- donable curiosity. " I will tell you at a more convenient season, my dear; ii6 The History of Delia at a more convenient season," answered father, with un, pardonable caution. "Well, VVilliani, I hope to goodness that Fred Cozens hasnt taken to .Irinking again, or that Emma Jane Perkms hasn . left the last situation I got for her That s the worst of Emma Jane. She is a good servant m her way, and has plenty of work in her; but she will not settle down. And how can she expect to get first- class situations, when she never has more than a six months' reference, I should like to know ? " De ,r mother has such a habit of jumping to conclu- sions, and such a vivid imagination. If she happens to mvent a statement, and nobody happens to be at hand to contradict it, that statement at once becomes history as far as she is concerned. Just now father was think- mg of something else, and so let the Emma-Jane-Perkins tinued"°" ^^'^ ""•='^^"«nK«d; whereupon mother con- T "m' '' i"f what I expected. I told Emma Jane that I really would not give her another recommendation if she d.d not stay in this last place for a year at least- and I shall keep my word. She is a good enough girl I know, and an excellent daughter; and no cook of mine ever made flaky paste as well as she does, though for my part I always consider her short paste a little too rich and I ve told her so. But. as I said to her, what is the' use of keepmg all the Commandments from your youth up. .f you don't stay long enough in one place for people to see that you keep them ? I shall speak to her mother very senously about her. I shall go and see her mother to-morrow, and point out to her how Emma Jane is ruin- ing her life by this rolling-stone manner of going on." 117 •JJ The History of Delia By this time father's wandering attention was secured. " Emma Jane Perkins ai home again, do you say, my love ? Dear me, dear me, I am sorry to hear that, very sorry, very sorry indeed I I saw Mrs. Perkins only yes- terday, only yesterday, my love, and she w s telling me that Perkins's rheumatism was so bad that she feared he could not go on working much longer— that he would have to take sick-leave, so to speak, to take sick-leave. But she did not mention that Emma Jane was out of a place again, so let us hope that this is what one might call a false report — a smoke without any fundamental fire. Who told you that Emma Jane was at home, my love?" " You did, William." " I ? " Father's face wa:. blank with astonishment. Though he has been married to her for over twenf\ y.. s, mother's free translations of father's statements never fail to asto- id him afresh. " Yes, you, William." "But, my dear, 1 never even mentioned Emma Jane Perkins's name ; it never so much as entered into my thoughts, much less passed the doors of my lips." " My dear William, you distinctly said that she was at home again, and that the reasons of her dismissal were such as you could not mention in Delia's presence. I heard you with my own ears." Then I felt it was time for me to interfere, as I always do when I think that father and mother have played at cross questions and crooked answers long enough. I can't imagine how married couples, who have no children to interpret them to one another, get along at all ; be- ii8 The History of Delia cause neither of them can have a notion what the other has — or has not — said. " It was you that brought Emma Jane into the con- versation, mother. Father only said that he had heard a rumour in the village which caused him uneasiness." "Then why on earth, William, can't you tell us straight out what the rumour is, instead of throwing sus- picions on Fred Cozens and Emma Jane Perkins, and generally bearing false witness against your neigh- bours ? " " Because, as I have said before, my love, I must postpone my confidence to a more convenient season — a more convenient season as one may say, a more con- venient season." And then I knew that I must wait for an interview with mother alone, before my thirst for information could be slaked. Father always tells things to mother alone, and then mother invariably tells them t- me ; it would be against every tradition of the family for father to tell anything to mother and me en masse; and yet the result would be the same, and much time and breath saved. But I have noticed that this ritual obtains in other cir- cles besides ours, so I suppose there is more in it than meets the eye ; though it seems to me rather an eflfete custom, like locking the door of the House of Commons in the face of Black Rod. In the same way parents con- sider it wise to converse in cyphers in the presence of their offspring ; and yet I am convinced that " the young- eyed cherubins " see through the verbal disgfuise long before the parental cyphcree does. When mother and I were alone together next morn- ing, I asked her what father's secret was ; ami I I'cU sure 119 :!^;l The History of Delia that It was a specially confidential communication, be- cause she vyas so eager to divulge it that she could hardly Deir^?. r"5^ '^' '"''°'""y f°™"'^ °f reluctance. .? wLTll' t ''" "°' ^''^ " ''"'' ■• ''"d that I think IS what makes her so nice and interesting to live with People who don't tell everything that they know, are in- sufl'erable-especially in the country at h'J- " '^rf ^'' ^f "^--'hwaite. my darling," she said sJo:ki;g;"''"""'^-"'''=*°*^"^°"''''-°-dand I felt myself turning white. " Tell me at once, please, mother," I begged Well, Deha, your father has heard upon very good authority that Gilbert Satterthwaite once served hLS in gaol on a charge of forgery." J I don't believe a word of it," I cried angrily. ^_ Father ought to know better than to listen to such " Hush, my love, hush," said mother; " lies is not at all a mce word for a young girl to use ; and you may rest assured that your dear father would never believe so serious a calumny until he had thoroughly sifted i* " it " T r.rrj"'f '° ^'- S^«^^*waite to want to' sift It I retorted, but you are always prejudiced against him because he isn't tall." mMt.?''' "°' "'^ ^°^" ■ ^ '''°"''^ "'^^^ ^"°^ =° trivial a TuaZJ'I ?T '''''°"'' ^PP^^--^"" to influence my judgment of character. But I confess I never could have marned your father if he had been a little man " I was too angry to argue, so I snatched up my hat and rushed pell-mell to The Agency. " Whatever is the matter, my lady of the whirlwind ? ' 120 The History of Delia asked Gilbert, in surpnic, ; s I bounced into his sitting room witli flushed che ks and flashir j eyes. "Oh! Mr. Satten ixv ./le, hern ' people are telling lies about you, and I -in af>r?M father and mother are going to believe them." Gilbert's face turned a shade paler, but he smiled his usual quizzical smile as he said, " Tell me, Delia, what form these terrible calumnies take." " They actually dare to say that you were once in prison for forgery! Did you ever hear anything so wicked and absurd and altogether idiotic ? Horrid spite- ful beasts ! I could kill them for saying such cruel, un- truthful things." And then I burst into tears, I was so angry. Mr. Satterthwaite's thin white hands stroked my ruffled hair. He had beautiful hands, and there was something wonderful in his touch — as if it could heal all sore places and straighten all crooked ones. " Poor little girl ! if you take other people's troubles to heart like this, Delia, and fight their battles so valiantly, you will have no strength and no ammunition left when your own bat- tle-time comes." " I don't want strength and ammunition," I sobbed : " I only want to punish those loathsome fiends who dare to tell such vile falsehoods about my dear, dear tutor." " By the way, did you believe the story, child; or did you treat it with the contempt which you apparently thought it deserved ? " " Believe it ? " I cried indignantly ; " of course I didn't. I don't believe you ever did anything wrong or anything foolish in your life ; and I wouldn't believe it if all the world said so." 131 The History of Delia ''But supposing / said so. Delia? " whatevL'ouS'a^^rit'''' ' '"'"' "''' '° "^ ihen your conscience is a fool " I rpnl.VH • « ^ far/h^ ^ " ""''"^ ^'' Whimsical smile; then his face became very grave as he saiH - ti,- • , HeTetia" td'th'T, ^t^ '"^ '"''^ '' ^'^ '"''^-ffai::^ JS:^:L::itf\S'ir^:,;Xiu;S'^'^ evr;o?2tr'H^'^°"'^"°^-"'^^^^^^^^ vou/nH ,H '^^''^"' y°" '^y- ^ =hall always trust Tbest and"''? '°" """"^ *"'" ^"^"'"''y' -^^ '^ink you ''Thank you, little one. I thought I had gone be yond the stage of ever feeling glad or sorry any more but your belief in me has still the powerTo makTme' happy. Therefore I owe it all the more to Jou t'te'l y"! 123 The History of Delia the truth; and the truth is I once spent five years in prison for forging a cheque. So, my dear pupil, you must go home, and you must not come here again until your father gives you permission, which I am bound to admit— after what he has heard— he is extremely un- likely to do ; I should not do so nyself, were I in his place. Our lesson times have been very pleasant ones ; and though I fear I have taught you but little in them,' I have learned much." I begged and prayed Mr. Satterthwaite to let me stop on for lessons as usual, and assured him over and over again that nothing would ever make any difference in my friendship for him. But he was as adamant about my going home, and my father was as adamant about my not coming back again. So my happy lesson days were over. After that I hardly ever saw Mr. Satterthwaite again. I don't think he could have had any idea how terribly I missed him, or he would not have cut himself off from me so entirely ; but I suppose men can't feel things as much as women do, they have so much more to interest them in their lives. Still, I wonder he didn't guess how much he was to me ; but I presume he never thought about it. My father was sorely perplexed as to whether or not it was his duty to inform Lady Summerford what manner of man her agent was. It is so difficult for any one— even for a clergyman— to know exactly where influence leaves off and interference begins. Mr. Satterthwaite had told father exactly what he had told me— neither more or less —and father said he had behaved like a gentleman in quietly withdrawing his friendship from us, without 9 123 IPWl-'-m.*^ The History of Delia ful one." ^ '"'^ '° ^° '°' *o«gh a very pai„- "And what did she say?" I asked " She said she had known about it all the Hn,» ^ bora, to«l Ll ""r. ,,k"7 r-'." ™ °' ■ "'"- hav^n. Mr. ^ZZ :t: S'' ''' ''°"°"^ '" phen^Ju's'Th^nTto ray-' TSlt^'^^" ^T* *"- could ever be rLrdeJ.= f • i^u ""''^PP^ ""'" ■"«" He was a relation," I argued. ""nertord. 134 The History of Delia Only a cousin, Delia, and I consider cousinship by no means an unbreakable bond, if one wishes to break it '' I was silent but unconvinced. Of course I don't know what it feels like to be rich and beautiful: I only wish I did : but I can not conceive of any combination of financial and physical endowments which would ren- der me insensible to such an honour as Gilbert Satter- thwaite's friendship. The years have rolled on (three of them) anH T have never married. The one or two men who hav 'len m love with me were too big and strong and ignorant for my taste. They didn't care a bit for books, but, as my old nurse said, " did nothing but eat and drink and play tennis all day, like the lilies of the field." And now I am twenty-one and an old maid. It seems rather dreary work being an old maid, I think, and I don't much like It as far as I have got ; but perhaps it is an acquired taste and grows upon one, like Gruyere cheese or Wagner's niusic. I help father and mother a good deal in the par- ish, but somehow I don't find a parish as satisfying as an old maid ought. And I read the books that my tutor used to read, and try to be the sort of woman that he would have wished me to be if he hadn't gone away I am not really unhappy— only a little dull : but all the time my heart feels like a house that has gone to ruin before It was finished, or like a forsaken churchyard of graves that have never been dug. It is sad enough to lose what one has once had ; but the missing of what one has never possessed is a bitterer pain to bear. Gilbert Satterthwaite came into a small fortune from a distant relative, and left Summerford about a vear after father made that unfortun.ifc discovery; and until just I2i & The History of Delia yesterday/" ° "'' ^°°' ^"^^ Summerford gucis/ ''°"' '"°"' '"°"'^^' ^"<^ I <=°«ld not possibly he-\r2lTJ° ^"".'^ ^"^^^ "Other's news is going to thecorl?./ '^'^Womts people if anybody guesses the correct answer to a riddle which they have afked n>othe'r\„rstrurL\r^'"^' ^°" •'"°< ^'^^ descHbe^„yb:dr:fthrrarrr„"et-;\;ras: all ! ■• tried'^'thf "r '"""''^ ''^^'"^ ^ ----e at fin; ladv Tor' .n T '"'"""^ '° '"^ '°° "^"-^h of a thwaufus °d to saTTa X °' "^^ "''• ""'■ '^""- carriage and I cZcSL .•' "' ''"=°" "^^'^ "^^P' ^ among the lower c7a" es • "' '° '° ""<^'' '^^^'» he saidTt 1":^''::'' "^ '' '° "- '-- <^-es, mother. " The principle is the sa„,e, n,y dear; a thing which 126 ri^ 43^1f^r The History of Delia can not be said to everybody ought not to be said to anybody, or else it is certain to do harm to somebody, and nobody can be the better for it— if not the worse," replied mother, with a certain confusion of expression, more than compensated for by the excellence of her in- tentions. I' But do go on about Lady Summerford," I urged. " Well, my dear, I regret to say that the misguided woman was not so perfect as she appeared to be." " I never did think her perfect," I interrupted. Mother looked shocked. " Then, my love, you ought to have done so, for so attractive an appearance, coupled with such elegant manners, I never beheld before." " But you yourself have just said that she was not as perfect as she looked." " That, Delia, was no excuse for your not believing her perfect until you found out to the contrary. I can not bear to see the young people of the present day forming their own judgments, in the sad way that they do ; and for them to be in the right when their parents are in the wrong, seems to me a distinct and reprehensible breach of the Fifth Commandment." "^ Do go on about Lady Summerford, mother." " So I will, my love, if you will not so persistently interrupt me. And that reminds me that interrupting your elders, when they are speaking, is also in a measure tampering with the Fifth Commandment." Again I endeavoured to lure mother away from the Fifth Commandment, and this time with more success. " But Lady Summerford ? " " Well, Delia, she told your father— and he particu- larly warned me not to mention it again, so see that you 127 :..-..-%w#^^i The H; istory of Delia don't do so, Delia-that before her, •nJ .Ou.ll, l„J,Z "', '" *"' °'" '"»»'<.". .«.» ,o .e'e^s srr «rr L";^ -'"h'" well off." '°°'' "' ^"y ™" ^ho was not " Poor iMr. Satterthwaite ! " I remarkeH " R,.f u ;; Do you mean that everybody falls in love? " tened^o explL"" h"^ '"^' "^'"""'^ "°''" ^^her has- " Did you and father fall in love ? " I asked R„t tl,„ moment the unseemly inquiry was out of my mouth It mT ? rP^°P™'y' ^"d would fain have recSn'ed .t. Mother looked as much shocked as I expected Oh. my dear, what a question to ask I This comes of readmg too many novels. Do you suppose DeHathnt a mm,ster of the gospel would be guided this Iii;i! the selection of a helpmeet suitable'to h callgf fam surprised at you." "-"""ig. i am I hung my head. "Of course not," I murmured 128 ^\(A ■.. 'Wfl The History of Delia (Wlien I came to think of .„ it was an absurd question.) But do go on with your story." " Well, Gilbert Satierthwaite saw that his beautiful cousin would be rui led, ai.d her brilliant marriage would fall through, if her cri.ne was discovered ; so he took her guilt upon himself, and allowed it to be thought that it was he who had forged the cheque. And he bore the punishment, while my lady married her rich lover and lived happily ever afterward. By the time that Gilbert's sentence had expired, old Sir Robert was dead ; so Lady Summerford made her cousin her agent, to keep hiiii from starvation." " I wonder she did not marry him after all," I re- marked. " Oh I my love, how could that beautiful and elegant creature have married a man who had actually been in gaol?" asked mother, with an admirable sense of the fitness of things, though a somewhat perverted sense of justice. I wasn't really surprised at mother's story, because I had felt sure all along that Mr. Satterthwaite could never have been anything but noble and true. But I couldn't help being envious of the dead woman up at the Hall, whom he had loved so perfectly, with a love which, I felt sure, would never change nor grow old even though the object were no longer here. It is only beau- tiful women who are loved like that, I suppose— with a wonderful, sheltering love, which will only cling to them the more closely and wrap them round the more warmly when the world is growing cold to them because of their fading charms. If one were loved in that way, one would not mmd growing old: old age would only mean the 129 The History of Delia qu.et evening after the parties were all over-and with a person one really loves, one quiet evening is nieer than alt he parties put together. Heighol it must be exquL'" to have a straight nose and a devoted lover- but he Cpedir^"^''^ -''" -' '- -^ ^-- wi;: beea';se'[l.K%"°' ""Z' '.° ^»"""-^°^d 'o the funeral, because Udy Summerford, according to her exoressc ' himself had told them. The truth never wouldlave been revealed by him, he added; but he was gratefuT o w" poor cousin for clearing his name before she died w-ole /f ?"T'''^"' ^"^ "° ^''"'l^^": 'O she left the ^v..ole of her late husband's fortune and estates-over as a tardy reparation for the sorrow which he had en dured for her. So Mr. Satterthwaite is com ng ba k again to live at Summerford, after all these Tears i wonder ,f he has put a book-marker in the story oo« fr ndship, so that we can go on from exactly where we eft oflf; or whether I shall have to begin at thebegfnnir^ and read the preface of him over again. Peop'e are so different in this respect : with some.^one can be^i aga „ with others, ,t IS necessary to go through the preface afresh every „,orning. Time is hardly^ong enough for this latter species; and I doubt whether\e shS 130 I The History of Delia th^k it worth while to wa«e .„ch of eternity upon how'jrwaVtUtrSh'''- ^r"*""' *" ^«» "- -:^^^^^^^^^^:^^ f^ro,Kj^SJrsrt::^S 'rr:!Se'^;?--rf-^^^^^ spite or the sories'/^rrw^Xr;^^^^^^^ such a queer answer from him ; this is itf- '""' "My dear DELIA,-Many things have oleaseH m, lately ; but nothing has pleased „e sf much as th/^" you have given me of your constant S M your ^Td LI . r.^'"'' *'"" y°" "'""y '""sted me-I am sSll more glad that, whatever my shortcomings may be I you :;T '7^ '"'^'"'"^ :.'"'=•' -■'^ - unrrthy'o f^ I- M "°""'^"' my dear, you think a great deal too h>ghly of me, as you always did ; so that you arl cer remarks about my love for my poor cousin (the most beaufful woman I have ever seen) are very p ettyTnd very characteristic ; but I greatly fear me aTfar as T "m IZZL' fd" ^^^°"^'^ '-'' the^m^ln^cTiie^"^ your nature I daresay you are right in saying that the love wh.ch bears all things and belfcve, all things is vi 13! The History of Delia fine— and that the love which never fails and never trani- fers Itself to another object is still finer. I believe I could at one time have pleaded guilty to the former: hardly to the latter. If your ideal hero is one who can love but once and for ever, then, my dear. I'm not your man. I don t set up for being a hero-so you had better quickly pluckme from my pedestal, lest a worse thing befall me. ' However, I am coming down to Summerford the day after to-morrow, when I will explain this to you a little more in detail. " Till when, believe me to remain, " Your affectionate old tutor, " Gilbert Sattehthwaiie." I wonder what Mr. Satterthwaite means by saying that I shall be disappointed in him. I am quite sure that I shall be nothing of the kind, because he is so good and true that he could never do anything unworthy of himself. Still the mere suggestion makes me a bit un- comfortable, for fear it should again mean that some- thing IS gomg to turn up that will spoil our friendship. But It IS no use worrying : he will explain it all to me when he comes to-morrow, and I must just wait patiently till then. One day is not long to wait, after one has waited for three years ; but it seems the longest bit of the waiting, all the same, 132 ^w^u :#i .^ j^^:^ A MINIATURE MOLOCH I I A MINIATURE MOLOCH sessed refined sensibilities, whUe she owneH* \^" more distinguished than de^ feeini tT^lt J","^ ■n^the a te, ,,„,, „^ the^.ortfhi,:':he waV^^ student of human nature ; he thoup-ht th,f t. ^ este e and being no longer the metropolis of Europin lovelmesa, the gold, whereof she once made " a comelj" '35 « % A Miniature Moloch has been distributed over the face of the globe; and it happened that a portion of this "red, red gold" fell to the lot of Hester Murrell, and saved her from being-as she would otherwise have been-a very ordinary-looking young woman. ** She was the eldest daughter of a family of eight, who had all been bom and brought up over their father's shop m the central square of an old-fashioned, provincial town; nevertheless (though Herbert Greene was consti- tutionally mcapable of ever grasping this fact) the Mur- rells were true gen«epeople-that is to say, if true gen- tihty IS a synony/n for high principle, culture, and refine- ment, and the exact opposite of everything that can be covered by that broad term "vulgarity." In religion they belonged to that most cultured and intellectual form Of i-nghsh Nonconformity, the Independent body, which ;-avoidmg alike the poetry and symbolism of Anglican- ism on the one hand, and the familiarity and homeli- ness of Methodism on the other-founds its faith on the workings of reason rather than on the beauty of ritual- ism or the excitement of revivalism, and worships with Its intelligence rather than with its emotions. Too cold a spiritual home, perchance, for the artistic tempera- ment, which hungers and thirsts for that other side of the breast-plate of Righteousness which men call Beau- ty ; but a fine school for all those who inherit the stem spint of their Puritan ancestors, and who are of one flesh with the men who fought for religious freedom at Naseby and Sedgemoor. All the little Murrells were clever children, but Hester was the cleverest. She had been to a good school; and her father-whom she adored-had never 136 .at -^j» fir A Miniature Moloch ceased to educate her between times; consequently, when she grew up and found that it was time for hf; to begin to earn her own living, she went to live in London and took to journalism, thinking it was pleas- anter to teach the whole world than one famiWof children, govemessing seeming to be the only altema- l^htf^^rf'n'"'*/''' '"'"^"^ '° "'^ '"" 'hat most de- lightful of all professions open to women. The freedom of her hfe exactly suited her; and as she h-d never belonged to that class whose daughters are trained in the shadow of chaperonage, she did not feel that sense of lonelmess which girls and women of higher rank lelve? '"" "^^'^ '^"' °''"^''' '° ''^"^ ''y *«="- Then came her great success. She was just twenty- seven when she wrote the novel that made her name. It would be difficult to say why Waters of Babylon took the town by storm; it dealt with life at the East End of London, but so do tens of unread stories; it cap- ped w,th several of the great social problems whichlvere disturbmg the last hours of the dying century, but so did scores of unsuccessful novels; it depicted the in- fluence of Nonconformity upon the uneducated masses of the English people, but so do hundreds of uncut books. The scientist who can demonstrate the exact flash-point " of the River Thames will have made a discovery which will throw all former discoveries into the shade ; but at present that scientist is unborn. Each of us goes into the wilderness, staflF in hand, but it is only Aaron s rod that blossoms; each of us goes forth in the morning from his father's house, but it is only Saul who is anointed king. The secret of success is as 137 ▼^. A Miniature Moloch yet the Sphinx's- riddle, and is as great a mvsterv to those who find i. as to those who^fail in tTs^d But et those of us who find it not. remember that^t the staves wh.ch did not blossom entered as soon a" ^olLTu'^' ^'°'^'^ '""''• «°'' '« those of us, wo^t^^f h^ '" ""'' "^' ^"' P'°-^ himself un: Set rr"""'"' '"' ""' *' "^'^ ''''^^' """ tweeTS '^" "'°f'^''^ freemasonry which exists be- tween all men and women who live by their pens, Hes- thei^ Z^r-TV" "" '"""•"' ^^ " '^ had been their own-as, mdeed, in a sense, it was. A reallv fine much to the many who enjoy it as to the one who created It And the girl rejoiced in her success in a quiet way while her somewhat reserved nature expanded in the^' preciative atmosphere which surrounded her. As for th^ tmil H f -'??'''°"!<' P-vi„ciaI town, it was sim^y Illuminated by Hester's fame; while the "light that sX r^H Z ""^ °/ '""'^ " '''^"' '""^ ^"'^ °f the book- seller and his wife, and made them both feel young sh.?r'f ' ""« ^u'^ !^ "^"^ "" ^'' ^«~°'» hook when she first saw Herbert Greene. She met him at the house of a mutual friend.in the country, where they were both staying for a week-end; and at once his delicate frame hlr-""*. "!"""'' f P'^'"'' '° 'he motherly instinct Mden in the heart of the stem-looking Scotchwoman. His conversation also attracted her; for she had lived aU her life in an intellectual atmosphere, and Greene was a well-read and highly-educated man. " Did you have a pleasant journey? " she asked him 138 V ^ « A Miniature Moloch when their hostess left them ainne f^, „ t after tea minutes "No, a detestable one. There were some vulear people m the carriage who disturbed me. and I do ^ dishfce travelling with strangers " ' '" ^ ao so to fin?^ r.' ^ "'" " •■ ^ "''""y" '""^ to them, and try to find out what sort of people they are " tast" ""'■'" "''"** •"'' '^""°*^ "What a peculiar I. J'^'"^"'' r." '"'"«''«'! in people?" asked Hester bokmg puzzh^d. She lived in a worid where everyS was mterested in everybody else vcryuoay "Not in the least. Why should I be? People al- ways bore me; and those whom I know borrme f poss.be, more than those whom I do not know " ' i i-cn what are you interested in ' " Nothing much : there is so little in life to interest an. ne, so far as I can see." '"rerest .^ester's generous soul was filled with pity A woman wrth a keen sense of humour would have ^ughed at Herbert Greene: as a matter of fact, hi was a personahty that aflForded a considerable amoun rcLr;:r"''/° '''^'^ •"^-^^ *- endowed-he loomed so very large in his own eyes, and so verv small m the eyes of everybody else. But humL was no Hester's strong point. °' "Don't you care for reading?" she inquired gently writ. u "*" ^'' '"^^^S fit to read : but M French K u u "^ ""'' ""^ °"^ ^"^^ "cross a clever French book, but modem English fiction appears to me to be too utterly banal for words." 139 -%'. A Miniature Moloch A vainer woman than Hester would have been P.qued at this, for was she not one of the hS priest- esses of modem English fiction ? But she was tcllrl mmded for the thought of herse.f to ^^^^Z sne said m a deprecatmg voice. " It is so much easier to understand and enter into than the literature of an h^r.h^f '"k" '°""''^' "* '''''• ' fi"d i' ''o- But per- haps that .s because I am lacking in imagination It s difficult for me to look at anything from another p rso„' pomt of view; that is where I am stupid" But why should you look at things from another person's point of view? It would bore me TutteSblv to do so," replied Herbert, who, because he was st^i had never found out that he was. No man is stupid who knows that he is; to know oneself to be stupid ^he best proof to the contrary. at tSn«']°°''"* f "'"''• " ^* " '° '"t^^^ting to look « rtmgs from other people's standpoints, don't you " I can not see wherein the interest lies. I am not :nT-it"^'-^'"-"°'''--p'-"^^«;rs°c' ter Inf H °u 'i"' ''"^"■'"•^^ °^ "P'"'""' however, Hes- w^k-end in t'h ^°' °" """l "•=" '"^^'''^ ''"""^ that r^Hi/eTl V '°"""^- ^^' ^^^ f«^ *°° humble to S her t me r'l" K.'"^ "^'"^"^ " '^-"^ i" wast- soul and a shnvelled mind ; and he was far too conceited to .magine that this Iarge-h.arted woman of genTus was .n any way h.s intellectual equal, much less hU sujerfor! 140 A Miniature Moloch So does compensating Nature throw in a make-weight of vanity when she is engaged in manufacturing hearts and souls below the "ordinary gentleman's size." Therefore the man patronized the woman and the vvoman admired the man, as befitted their respective characters: and they both enjoyed themselves in the uomg of It. On her return to town on Monday Hester had much fjTV° %' ^!?'".'? *'"' ^^°"' *•>' ^''"^d her little flat, Barbara Kenderdme. Barbara was better bom than Hester, and had a higher opinion of herself: and, being a small woman while Hester was only a large one, was much more fitted to fight life's battles and to com; out of them tnumphant. To her, Hester told the story of her meeting with Herbert Greene. Half the pleasure of any treat is m the telling of it afterward; when there IS no one to tell, things soon cease to be worth the tell- mg; and Barbara sympathized with Hester's joy, and was full of interest in Hester's new friend. " I am sure you will like him," Hester said in con- clusion ; he IS so highly cultured and such a thorough gentleman. I wish I had lived all my life among people like that; there is such a finish about them, somehow, whiich those, who have their way to make in the world, Barbara shrugged her shoulders. "I have lived among such people," she said drily, "and I have often regretted that they had not even more 'finish,' as you '^*'\J'— enough to finish them oflf altogether." "Oh, Barbara! how can you? You see,*! have been brought up among men who have had to fight the battle of life for themselves, as I myself have had to fight it, 141 A Miniature Moloch |i I 1 ■ ill 1 '! 1 J 1 : tomed to is always attractiv^" °°' '""'*- ness to those who arrSliir *u° *"'''^' «'^^- thrust upon them " *^ ' °' *''° '«*^' ^«»'»«» n.en^rarho'tJ^Sn,;^^-^'"'' ' '^^ ^"^ the others- thev h,?I V ff """''' "'°''' ^^y than desire for effeJt^. "''' ''^^^ "^'f-consciousness and less -:s:^r^tLr^^-''^-^^««'nea^ failure''°bore Irilfr "r;!!-'^' " I believe that more than ^lU^::,^!:^'''^^^^]' """ grander to fail and not care^h,n t ^* '''"'°'' pleased about it." ' " *° '""=*=«=d and be Mr.^Gt'e'TS''- 7°"'»-r.cleveroldfooll Does know?" '' ""^ "°* '^''' I should like to "Yes; that is what attracts me to him ti doing." '''"* "'^s nothing worth me:k^^o^^::;;T„Trhtrisi^^^^^^^ arer srcesr^ tr,*'° '""^ ^"' y^* ^-''ers while the m^llttdlsTro^dl^^^^^^^^^^ succeed neither in this life norXrottr ^ ^^ '43 A Miniature Moloch what your mstinct tells you to do, and don't burden riXt r?'" ''•' *''°"«''* °' consequences on" do aloe, and then I invariably regret it I had a ^a ;!, stance of this last Saturday " *"^ *"" " Why, what happened ? " "You know I went by train to Reading, and then up the nver with some friends to Goring; and at Pad- was but natural But now nature ceases and grace comes Z'a ! T' '"'•^ *''" *''°'^ **y fro-n Goring by tr^n and actually took an extra ticket f:x>m Gorinlba k to " It was." "So I thought; but then the trouble began. Nobody '43 I A Miniature Moloch esty as lone as vou li™ t 'a "' "^^^"^ «<> dabble in hon- nr/fi» k ^ * ' ^"'^ ^ am sure I hope vou'll trv fn^H i"^"'" °' ^"'•""^'^ '"'^'«' Hester continued to Mn^'uT W ' "" "^'■'' ^"^ °»'y -«"ded „ ^Uithnf. 1 "T' "^"^^-^ "°' oncommon error Herii J° fi' !'''• •^°"' "''^ *"''"'^'" '^id Barbara after Hester looked grieved. " Oh, Barbara I " ^^ I do. He finds fault with everything and every- '' That is because he is so fastidious." Rubbish! It is because he is so disaereeable H- fa . regdar little crab. I saw a dish cMl^tegl^,l »44 A Miniature Moloch on the menu at dinner last night. Now Mr Tr^n • what I should call rr„hh, »i ^ . ' ' ^^'^* '» thing I abominate." *' "^''' '"*' "''^'" ^'^'^ « « -iitK'utrcintc;; itz::^-' ''-v-^ -"^-'' Barbara made a face " <;fi,ff -_ j exorbitant Whv fhi. „- ?. " ^^ "° "leans see couldn't S Ind 2Z Du T" "'^ "'" ^'^^ °'^''- and that John Oliver HoKKu ^"""^ '°"'*'"'* '^""=. and that Anthon w ''" "'^'^ "° "«="'«= °f humour, ^nd^that Anthony Hope didn't understand women. •' Barbara, you are very unkind I " nonsen^ Oh "^e^fhf "^""'■^»>«' "-e most arrant -e. I can asTr y" colC 2.fj"'= '°^* °" monds that fell from h s £ S fa ,h p"'''" *"*^ "^^ fairy tale) and stnZ T '^ ^ "" ^""""^ '" the ^_ H«ter, m her gentle way, still stood up for her frienrf He can „ot help being critical and hard to pl«s "Ind Jf^e^thmks certain thing, I admire him Sl^S »4S •^ £m A Miniature Moloch " My dear Hetter, he can not help being a fool, I admit, but he can help showing it Lots of men do." It wai not long before Herbert Greene and Hester Murrell fell in love with each other, according to their respective lights. She admired him because he wu so utterly different from the men of her own household ; and he allowed her to admire him, and found pleasure in such admiration, because she was the first woman who had been content to take him at his own valuation. For all her cleverness, Hester was singularly simple, and it never occurred to her that in any question she could possibly know better than the man whom she loved. This pos- sibility never occurred to the man either, for the which he was to blame, and not she. When Herbert asked her to become engaged to him, and to wait indefinitely until he should be appointed to some visionary post and so afford to marry, Hester's cup ran over, as most of our cups have a knack of doing at least once in our lives. We can not expect such glorious overflowing^ to last for ever ; they never do ; and the hap- piest among us are those who can find no drop of bit- terness left in the dregs when the cup is empty and the time has come for washing-up. For such drops of bit- iemess spoil even the memory of the season of fulness, and make it to us as though it had never been. Hester was one of those humble-minded .people who consider the qui^ities which they possess so much less imporUnt and attractive than those which they lack ; and consequently she felt a pride in the social status of her lover which her own genius had never been able to arouse in her breast. Herbert, on the contrary, consid- ered all gifts wherein he was lacking not only undesirable 146 %.miMmw.^AF^i Mm. A Miniature Moloch and .o d.eoura.e 'JZ ^^1^ " """'^ -'" never dXmy"::;:";; ea™"" '° "" °"' ^^^ " " *°"'d 'eel i. ex.e„Tht;ni:r,72 f^r^v' ""T IS not d (mified for ;• m«™- . j ° ""^ """«• " cniical taste and sensitive fastidiousness— am D-nin„ / lower myself to become a teacher of r^^^Thoul ? ; easily could if I wished." ^^ ^ Hester looked up at him with awe To nat„r=.ll .mpressive about an iconoclast; and she had woSped books for so long that the man who dared to desoi e her^ tXed m" '" "rr^ ''''' - » -oSiTd we" tailored Marsyas challenging the very gods themseTve She never doubted that Herbert was right in condei.: 147 .,30.. r. A Miniature Moloch ing the art which had hitherto been the breath of her nos- trils; she put away her pen from her as an accursed thing; and although she mourned in secret over the ab- sence of the work which had hitherto been all in all to her. she regretted such mourning as an unholy hanker- mg after the flesh-pots of Egypt. And all the time Barbara looked on and disapproved She did not say very much. What is the good of saying much— of saying anything, in fact— to a person who hap- pens to be in love? But she knew that the less was absorbing the greater, a trick to which the less is so sadly prone; and she also knew that there was more power of doing good in Hester's little finger than in the whole of Herbert Greene, and in all the host of uninter- esting and well-behaved relations on which he so justly pnded himself. She even went so far as to doubt whether a woman's genius is justified in extinguishing itself for the satisfaction of a man's mere whim ; but in some things Barbara Kenderdine was what Herbert Greene called modem to the verge of vulgarity." If our right eye ofifends somebody, and we therefore pluck It out, we have no warrant for supposing that the voluntary nature of the operation will in any way act as an anaesthetic; and although Hester was proud to im- molate herself and her ambition on the altar of her lover's Ignorant prejudices, her soul was starved within her for the want of expression. To be filled with the power and the longing to make music or pictures or books, and not to make them, is an agony undreamed of in the philoso- phy of those comfortable mortals who are haunted by no visions and disturbed by no dreams; to Herbert Greene, telling a woman not to write books was exactly 148 is^jBit.'iar:..^ A Miniature Moloch shouWstiUbe "seenand^h J.^'"«^ '^' *°'"^» gnmdmothers before them !„;"'{ "l ^''' «heir girl- the code of whatTconsH^reH '" ^" ^'"^ "° '"^"^ '^' ping Hester's life ^LT ^°°'^ ™""«=" *« sap- ^ lessit Jr ' '''''''°^'"«''*'^it«>'ty- Neverthe- -JS:HSca^ot" "f ^''^ ^^ '"-"' - i ^eav.^do.Hp-C^J-^->' wo^r-.^— ^-be^^-so.u. so ^I^^d1^''?r " '"" °' ^^'"P^'-hy. " Oh ! I am help S." "' ""'** '' "' »"<» P^haps I ca^ in ^nZZ^T: *•"■ '""^-heart was strong ing to comfort U ' "'"=' "^^ *^°"'"^ -'^h°"t yearn! a ^^^'St^f''^' " *« -e time ago his. I did nomft^'rels °r 7^""" V '''" °' a peer." * """' ** he was the son of of i^S"*"^ "°*'" -'' H«t-. with no consciousness I am ttr^oT^tTal *' "h' "^ ^^"^" ''-■ -" ■ne in a most uncomfolh, "'""'^ P°""''^- ^^ P'«es take it out of capS°l T T* "m" ' "" "°' "■'^« '° replace it, and T? 'shllVSu """ ^ '''"^ '° small income for the rest of 1^7 T "^'''"^y '°° can not include the JSte! 7 •'• ""''•. """^^ ''^^ '«" pa. a thousand pou^r Of :^re^:f-S »49 A Miniature Moloch I really am the most unlucky of hundred a year, mortals 1 " Had Hester been fashioned after the same pattern as Barbara, she would have asked her lover whatever pos- sessed him to do such a foolish thing as back a bill for a fnend ; but Hester's was the love that believeth all thip and thinketh no evil. " I am so sorry for you, dear," she said gently. " I wish I could help you." " I wish to goodness you could ! " " But I don't see how I can. I can not ask father for money, for it is as much as he can do to make both ends meet with such a large family; and since I have left oflF writing books and only stuck to journalistic work, I have ceased to make large sums." Herbert's face looked old with misery. " Then I shall have to take it out of capital, and that will mean a smaller mcome for the rest of my life. You see, I can only just manage to get along as it is, since, being a gentleman, expensive tastes are my inalienable heritage ; and it seems as if the appointment, for which we are both waiting, re- cedes farther and farther into the dim distance." " I am so sorry — so dreadfully sorry. How I wish I had saved all the money that I made out of Waters of Babylon, and then you could have had that I But I sent most of it home to help in the schooling of the little ones." " But have you not anything else at hand on which you could raise money? I believe you told me once that you had written another novel called Gog and Magog, or some such absurd name : where is that? " " I put it on one side and never published it, because 150 ■ 'iiwm^ A Miniature Moloch you^^said you didn't approve of women who wrote K /.w*"""/ ^°' ^ '=°"^''^^'" 'hem most unladylike- but that ,s not the question which we are now di cus ing The ques .on before us is. How can I get a thousand pounds without touching my capital ' " 'n°"»"d oft:;s?^u:;rrda"'" ^^^"^^ «-'-"- «^«^"» cern^stillXTou'? " '"' '"" '"'^ ^« ""^ ^''^°^ <=- "Yes; the manuscript is now in my desk." And had tak ;'it ouf"d ' """"^^ '" '''''°- °" latest chUd of he T '""^' °^" " ^°' '°"°* 'hat this latest ch.ld of her bram was condemned never to see the " Could you get money for it ? " "Of course I could, if I oflFered it to a publisher • but I w,U never do that as long as you disapprove of it "' fn . ♦ •? "^ ''''• " ^ *"" 'f'^'<^ I ''hall be compelled to put as.de my prejudices for once, and not to consWer ZZ" l::^' "' '" "" '"^ ™"^'- '" he «icl sorrowfuHy asteXte^er-''^^^ ^""^ '^^""^ ^ - -"i Hester's face grew very white; slowly his meanintr me^to" offer "•"" '^^- " °° ^°" ■"-"* hat you 3 Z,l "y U«nuscript to a publisher, and to give you the money ? " she asked bluntly ^ whZLm ",!''''• 'T '°*"^'y y°" p«' things i When shall I teach you to behave as a lady ? Believe me ^s^redii-^'""^^ ^"' ^''^^^'' '^ '" '"*^^' ''-" " But is that what you mean ? " persisted Hester. Wt\A^M A Miniature Moloch of t'he^fffic'uS?' "" "" "' *° "' ** °"'^ """''*» " You want me to do something which, according to your ideas, no woman ought to do ? " own'lf °r''!4°°' 'f ^'^ recommend a woman of my own c ass to do such a thing; but. as you have done it once. I do not see how you can offer any objection to domg .t agam," replied Herbert, inwardly groaning over the unreasonableness of the feminine mind. Hester's voice was strained and unnatural. "Let me be quite sure that I do not misunderstand you. You want me-the woman who has promised to be your wife -to do a thing which you consider to be unwomanly, in order that a certain pecuniary advantage may accrue to you thereby. Is that so?" "uc ro "Really. Hester, your coarseness of expression is positively vulgar. It grates upon me most terribly." Uut is that what you mean? " bruilnrR"^!^ "' ''' ''"' "° '"''y *°"''» have put it so wSLS"'-^°" "'"' "'"" ''^^" ^''^•'^d at the writing of books-It is only I who had been shocked on side, there is no mo.e to be said ; you have no prejudices to put on one side in this matter." prejuaices Hester held up her head proudly. " I know that ; I have always thought the writing of books is the grandest LtTrw ''r, •' "'°^'"' "y "*"" '"''" °^ woman, an-l 1 think so still. Then what are you looking so cross about ? I con- fess I am suipnsed at your inconsistency in objecting to do a thing which, according to your ideas, is a fine thing to do. It seems to me most unreasonable, and also very A Miniature Moloch however absurd that di^r^vfl Xt'''^''"'''^ °'' say so ,„, ,_^^„^^ ^^^^ - j^ s .rs: eno^gl/' "'' "°' *"= ''^"'''- I ^''''" »-' -yself fast kn.^'"""'' ^ff ''^"'^- "Then that is all right I knew you would see the thing clearly in time RU „ i your n^nners 3nd your „ofes of e'xprSn S taste and breeding, my dear Hester. Your heart is in vanably in the right place." '"' saidl^e^rt "h^/*"*""!"* °" ^^^ ^"^ °f "' ^'^'"^ that the vou'iL!!"" '' ?" ^°" '"'''* '° "y- ^ t*-'""^ I ""St bid you good morning," said Hester wearily. " I have some work on hand that I must finish." ""vesome " Veor well," agreed Herbert, taking up his well- brushed hat; "but do you think that any publisher wi 1 g-ve you a thousand pounds for your book ' " rights/"' ^ *'"'' '°' " ^ "'" " "^''* °"* ""'' ^'='«'" "O 153 §:-y -% A Miniatire Moloch ' How ridiculously overpaid you The man laughed. ' writers are ! " And so they parted BarL'rK^'dSn^.^^'^" "'^ ''"^-' '^ » -' '- hJ/°V'' ''?''*''"' '"'P"'*'' *° «« "«=." she began handmg h.m a cheque for a thousand pounds. " butS '• Mu.rell asked me to bring you this aid to tdl youS aff,^ ^ uf'' ?""°y"^ ' ■"= ''''*''' '° have his private affairs made pubhc in this way. Here was another pr^I of Hesters want of refinement, he said to himself. BarbaraTnS;" ""' '^'^ ''' '"°"^^^" "'"-''«<' "I have no alternative, Miss Kenderdine. I have ^:^:^' ""' '° -"•" ^°- ^^'--^ Miss r youThtritwryt"^ "' ^°' "^ " ''° •'^ - -" nn, 1!/'''^''^° "?' ''°"'''*='" "'^P"*'' the man coldly. " I am afraid that the opinion of the modem young Lson has not much weight with such a man as myself." Probably not. Still, I am going to tell you what I thmk of you not for your good, but for my own pJels ure; and I think that you are the lowest, meanest, mo t d.sgustmg httle worm that I ever came across n the whole course of my life." Herbert was pale with anger. "Do you know to whom you are speaking?" " "Perfectly ; and I can assure you the fact your giand- the slightest effect on me. Grandparent! never do im- "54 A Miniature Moloch Z'"orXTl^°"'- ^y ^"dfather was the younger son of a Scotch peer, and he was the most disagreeable ^Ireras aTce"?.^*^ '' «- ^ » '- ^^ainT^- ingSXSl'tS; ;^s^- '---«— - anrt".h '"'r'"'-;, ^ '''" '=°"'^"" ""y ^^-narks to yourself and then I will go. I consider you a vulgar littUr,H and as vam asyou are vulgar; and'how a glo^ou "wom„' and a rare genius like Hester could havf been talerfa by your snobbish aflfectations I r=.n !!>» • ^ periority But I hi v . Pat^on-^ng assumption of su- pcnonty. aut I have two pieces of advice to ci ve von in conclusion. When next you choose a wife seTecI a foor as only a fool will permanently be able to admle "2 unable to appreciate you; and remember ,n future Mat the possession of half-a-dozen dead grandfathers !n no SSSTn" ^^ ''' --'''^ ' ^ "--^i >^- youMHli"^^' °"' °'"'^ ^-^ ^^^ ^ «-ce amil.iT,''"'' ''"'° ^ '^'''' *^^'"''""? a" over. "I h^ elf - ir;' '"^.^^'"^"t '^ •"•o''- off," he said to h™e b'n It " T '" '"'"'' ''^''- ''"* I "«ver could lady " ^^^ '^^ °"" '"''° wasn't a perfect intots^ttft-lr"'^''^''^''''"''''^'^''^''"-^''^ »5S THE RING OF ELYN k'M^ ^ THE RING OF ELYN -' The Rev. Theophilus Dixon was always an excl en man but it was not until after his vi hto NewSy" Up to r/t' '"r""' '""' P°P""^ preacher '""' drums were of the most elementary sc.rt M„ S^on" >.kew,se, was an admirable matron after heV kin? th; perfect Index F?n . ' ''"""'^ '" •"='" °*" "wd a nof nowhlm to eat S" .°' ^.'.^ '""^^ ='"•= '^""'^ r """'y> *no when once Mrs Dixnn'« fio» i, j r^h. neither TheophiU,s nor"th?rofe t^ S One memorable summer the worthy couple came to '59 The Ring of Elyn li'r ^^^^T.:^t:i;'::'^\::, t^^^^ -'<^« pia-. be n, J^roU rwervirr 'C^ rt " ^°""' ophiiu'i" AV:r,;ira^''' """-«' ^''- drives, as he had Sc« hi.M *"" *'"' '«P*« '» day before-^rorfhTil r**/° '•* '^''^K"" «he - \;n | - '""' ** "It i. more than you have, Ttu ,;.I , ^ " Certainly, my dear, certainly ; J nov r foi - m, ««,» compared my powers with you«" '°' - """'"'t s^^eT of the n • r"'"'"''^ •"''"•"•^' '" «"dy in- stance, of the punishment of sin and frivolity, and it "delCH*" '"'""'"« '"""P'^» described fully irestiJ,! "iu '' ^"^ ^' ''"' ^ *'^'' y"" fo^ the sug- gestion A. you say, there are few spectacles more eli vating than the visible chastisement offrivol^ Fri^^ D^hhi ';! '"'°"''"«^ ''''""P'' °' "-^ «""«= than M^2 Drabble, who sits next me at the tabU d-hote " have 0^°,^^ *°"^"' "^"^hilus I I wonder that you I a^ anTlT' '° *""' *° ""• W'-y- »•«= '» « °ld as iwenty. I have no patience with such folly ! " Mrs. Dixon looked pleased. It was always a great i6i • * The Ring of Elyn satisfaction to her to feel that there was no nonsense about her, and she was glad to know that her Theophilus rejoiced likewise at her immunity from the follies and vanities of her sex. Nature had not made Mary Ann at- tractive, and she herself augmented Nature's handiwork by dressing as unbecomingly as possible, and believing that such unbecomingness was counted to her for right- eousness. During the drive Mr. Dixon was in an extremely contented mood, and therefore inclined to be loqua- ciou.«. " Look at that aged man seated at a cottage door," he pointed out to his spouse; " it is a great pity for the poor to keep their old and useless relatives with them- the workhouse is the proper place for such worn-out members of society. I have no patience with their ob- jection to ' going into the house,' as they call it ; it is far better for them to be there than living on as a burden to their family." " You are quite right, my love— as, indeed, you al- ways art," agreed Mrs. Dixon. " Silly sentimentality is at the root of much that is bad and troublesome in the wrld ; if only every one had common-sense what a much better worid it would be ! " " It would, indeed, Mary Ann. I never can make out why people want to be sentimental; it all appears such utter rubbish to me." " And so it is. Look, for instance, at those two fool- ish young lovers, walking hand-in-hand ; could anything be more idiotic? And I actually saw them kissing, just as we turned round the comer." " Surely not, my love ! " exclaimed Theophilus, look- 162 The Ring of Elyn And yet the girl Ing shocked. " How very unseemly I IS such a very plain girl, too I " " 1 don't see what that has to do with it." remarked l^Sr* ."'"'"';"• *^''- " ^' '^ i"** »^ f«"«h and improper to kiss a plain girl as a pretty one." hastilv "Z" «°' '°""'' "^ '°^''" ^'-^ ^^' husband hasWy but, as you say, one wonders that grown-up people l^ve not more sense. The newly-marrie^uples m our hotel, for instance, daily amaze me by the insanity of their proceedmgs. They are always going about hand-m-hand, and you never see them Lke „p^a S What they can find to talk about I can not imagine^n look at the newspapers-not the very b.-,d and recent thin?"' '^^P" """'"^ her broad, comfortable smile. " I coir "'*''* ^'^ '"'"""'^' ^'^'^ ^ ^^""0" upon common-sense, my dear, and the dangers of self-dec™^ tion and sentimentality." ^ ,, The Reverend Thcophilus beamed at the suggestion. it^s^n'tTL:'?' '''''^■''™' ^ ^hall ceruinly adop form r^ ?,. '"if '["' **' <=ommon-sense is merely a oZ^ri f" . • '"'' ^''"' '''^""«°" "'«' sentiment-^, bTondeSn^nrsr"'"" ""'*^ ""^ ««' -<* ^''-'^ "Admirable!" "I consider all idealization unhealthy," continued mond w"' r™'"? *° ""'' "°'-''-" ""h^l'hy and im- d«mof^' "i K* *•"" "°^''' '^ '^ ^"«y °f 'ears a sh^^/I r* ""'' *"*™""- Is it meet, then, that we .hould dwell upon such poor beauty as it stil reUir Pni ricvat, wb,t is in reality a wilderness of sin !„t ,' 163 The Ring of Elyn veritable Canaan ? We know that man is but a worm of earth, whose beauty shall consume awav. and whose righteousness is as filthy rags. Is it meet,' then, that we should ra.se this fallen creature to the height of a demi- god and allow ourselves to indulge in admiration of such feeble gifts as he still possesses?" " Certainly not, Theophilus." " For my part I have no patience with what is called the worship of the beautiful ; it is really a form of idolatry, and should be denounced as such," continued the elo- quent cleric. " Shall we prostrate our minds before some unworthy object, just because our eyes find that object attractive? Shall we, I say, be led away from our duty by such fleeting things as natural scenery or human affection ? " And Theophilus continued to hold forth in the same strain, till the carriage arrived at Crantock; while Mrs Theophilus accorded to his words that warm appreciation which we all of us accord to denunciation which shoots wide of our mark ; for let Theophilus call down the wrath of heaven upon the beautiful never so fiercely, not a hair of his wife's head could be injured by the fulfilment of his curses. This she knew, and, strange to say, found satisfaction in the knowledge. After duly eiamining the quaint old church at Cran- tock, Mrs. and Mr, Dixon clambered down to the shore and there saw the sand-hills which, according to tradi- tion, cover the buried city. In poking about, it happened that the point of Mr. Dixon's umbrella disentombed a small object, which, on examination, turned out to be an old ring, encrusted with age, in all probability an orna- ment belonging to one of the women who formerly in- 164 The Ring of Elyn habited the city. Theophilus picked it up. put it into his waistcoat pocket, and forgot all about it Mr. Dixon and his Mary Ann were duly refreshed by tea at a small cottage at Crantock; and^or he first t.me m h,s life during a meal, Theophilus did not thtk or talk about the food set before him Instead "rthis he was conscious of a stnnge feeling of exhilaration b^^^^^^^^^^^ thert wa! ' '"'"' '"' " "'" ~"''<=i°-ness tha wmd and the summor sea. He was so silent on the se^eS thTv"" r°""' °' '"'' °- joylt pLs! sessed him, that his wife remarked : " I am afraid you are not well, Theophilus • vou must hJi ^ r.?"'*^ '^^"' **"'' y°"' M*^ Ann," replied her fore. But I have been thinking that I shall never preach that sermon we were talking about on our way h^lT coursT^' "^ " ' ''"'"'^'^^ '° ^ " -"^^ '«»'"i«We dis- " But its teaching would have been all wrone It s nonsense to say that the beautiful is oppo^ d to the true for they are really one and the same. S luhi! tftT nor°;'t r r ^ ' °"'- ^redationT^s W ties s not Idolatry, but a form of religion. Some of the greaest poets that have ever lived have risen tolhei finest he,shts m describing the beauties of nature" Mrs. Dixon sniffed. "I do not approve of ooets- they are generally the most irreligious^'f men'' "^ Book r/ uf"""^ '" "" """""^^ °f "'^ P^tas and the Book of Job," remarked her husband drily i6S < 'J The Ring of Elyn The lady turned round and looked her unruly spouse full in the face. " I do not understand you, Theophilus." " Possibly not. As a matter of fact, I do not think you ever did." "Good gracious, what rubbish I Why, you are a most ordinary man." " Precisely. A man that you could understand would be a most extraordinary one." " Theophilus, I am certain that you have eaten some- thing that has disagreed with you, or you would never talk in this peculiar way. It must have been the lobster at lunch." Her husband smiled. " But, if you remember, my dear Mary Ann, you countermanded my order for lob- ster, and made the waiter bring me cold chicken instead. Sin intended may be as reprehensible as sin actually per- formed : but lobster intended can not be as indigestible as lobster actually eaten, whatever the casuists may say." " Oh lif you begin to argue " " Argument was far from me, my love : I was only ex- plaining away facts— which, being interpreted, are lob- sters." " There are those vulgar lovers again I " exclaimed Mrs. Dixon, changing the subject, like a wise woman. But her husband winced. Suddenly he looked into Eden, and knew that the ridiculous people were not those who fed among the lilies there, and walked hand-in-hand over the enchanted ground ; but those who stood jeering outside, among the thorns and thistles, and prided them- selves in that they trod upon the one and lived upon the other ; and he knew, further, that it was no cherubim with 160 The Ring of Elyn never heard of .uchait^' "^""^ "'"=' ' " Nevertheless we were vulgar Marv Ann t. • . «.ppL"Mri£r" "'" ""' "" ^ •" <«"•■ Dn.hM'''K"''u'^'''°P''''"^ ''="' "^ "''"a', next to Miss abTurS ' Fo th T '°"^" '""""^ "^^ contemptible and absurd. For the first time in his life he saw the pathos of a woman's growing old before she had ever been pro^ erly young and clinging to the skirts of a vanS spnng wh.ch had passed her by without ever stopi o speak to her ; and he could have wept for the pity'of ?t That „,ght he had a strange dream. Hitherto he had never dreamt of anything more exciting than chuXa' dens; but now he thought he was standing ofthe sho" 16^ ■M The Ring of Elyn went away to fight the heathen, my love" gave me 1 nW and .t .3 still given to me to teach'all that^I have ^ to whosoever owns that ring " ^ oph'i'lut' "''* '''''"* °' ^°"'- '°-'?" -"^ed The- i he dream-ma den smiled " t .„. lo tan,, ThcopKto... r. i .f S '"" I"" ™