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E N : : N 1 W A MSTKRDAM ) M r A N V : : : MCM LINNET A R M A N C E By GRANT ALLEN ^«/Aor 0/ "UNDER SEALED ORDERS," "MISS CAYLEY'S ADVENTURES," ETC. /?T New Tork BOOK COMPANY NEW AMSTERDAM MCM ! 26099$ Copyright, 1900, by New Amstbrdam Book Company i I 1 ? CH I NOTE This story was written in the midst of the scenery which it describes ; but the author desires to acknowl- edge his obligations for many touches of local color to Mr. Baillie-Grohman's admirable work on "Tyrol and the Tyrolese," The quatrain on p. 283 is quoted, with some slight modifications (to adapt it to its place in thi* novel), from a poem by Mr. William Watson. CONTENTS CHAPTER page I. " TO INTRODUCE MR. FLORIAN WOOD " . • 7 II. A FRESH ACQUAINTANCE • • 15 III. WITHIN SIGHT OF A HEROINE . • • 21 IV. ENTER LINNET . • • 31 V. THE WIRTH's theory . < 38 VI. THE ROBBLER • • 44 VII. WAGER OF BATTLE * 1 52 VIIL THE HUMAN HEART . 6o IX. THE MAN OF THE WORLD 66 X. HAIL, COLUMBIA! 73 XI. PRIVATE INQUIRY 1 82 XII. THE MADDING CROWD . * » 90 XIII. A FIRST NIGHT . • . 98 XIV. AND IF FOR EVER ■ 107 XV. A CRITICAL EVENING * » . 115 XVI. SCHLOSS TYROL . » 122 XVII. CAUGHT OUT • . 132 XVIII. TAKEN BY SURPRISE t • . 141 XIX. SPIRITUAL WEAPONS . 1 » . 148 XX. FLORIAN ON MATRIMONY • • . 156 XXI. fortune's WHEEL ► 163 XXIL A woman's stratagem 1 » 170 XXIII. A PROPHET indeed! • • . 178 XXIV. THE ART OF PROPHESYING I . 189 XXV, A DRAMATIC VENTURE . • • . 197 XXVI. A woman's heart • • . 203 Contents CHAPTER XXVII. AULD LANG SYNK XXVIII. SIGNORA CASALMONTE . XXIX. FROM linnet's STANDPOINT XXX. AN UNEXPLCTED VISITOR XXXI. WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK XXXII. WEDDED FELICITY XXXin. PLAYING WITH FIRR . XXXIV. AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE XXXV. c;OLUEN HOPES . XXXVI. AN ECCLESIASTICAL QUESTION XXXVII. BEGINNINGS OF EVIL . XXXVIII. HUSBAND OR LOVER? . XXXIX. DOCUMENTARY EVIDENCE XL. OPEN WAR XLI. god's LAW — OR MAN'S? XLII. PRUDENCE xLiii. linnet's rival XLIV. AND will's XLV. BY AUTHORITY . XLVJ. home AGAIN ! . XLVII. SEEMINGLY UNCONNECTED XLVIII. THE BUBBLE. BURSTS XLIX. THE PIGEON FLIES HOME L. ANDREAS HAUSBERGER PAYS LI. EXIT FRANZ LINDNER . LII. A CONFESSION OF FAITH PAGE 209 217 224 233 240 248 264 272 279 287 294 300 309 3IS 323 329 336 343 351 359 369 378 386 392 398 LINNET CHAPTER I. " TO INTRODUCE MR. FLORIAN WOOD " TwAS at Zell in the Zillerthal. Nov.', whoever knows the Alps, knows the Zillerthal well as the center of all that is most Tyrolese in the Tyrol. From that beautiful green valley, softly smiling below, majestically grand and ice-clad in its upper forks and branches, issue forth from time to time all the itinerant zither-players and picturesquely-clad singers who pervade every capital and every spa in Europe. Born and bred among the rich lawns of their upland villages, they come down in due time, with a feather in their hats and a jodel in their throats, true modern trouba'^ Durs, setting out on the untried ocean of the outer world — their voice for their fortune — in search of wealth and adventures. Guitar on back and green braces on shoulders, they start blithely from home with a few copper kreuzers in their leather belts, and return again after a year or two, changed men to behold, their pockets full to bursting with dollars or louis or good English sovereigns. Not that you must expect to see the Tyrolese peasant of sober reality masquerading about in that extremely operatic and brigand-like costume in the upper Zillerthal. The Alpine minstrel in the sugar-loaf hat, much-gartered as to the legs, and clad in a Joseph's coat of many colors, with whom we are all so familiar in cosmopolitan concert- halls, has donned his romantic polychromatic costume as an integral part of the business, and would be regarded witih surprise, not unmixed with contempt, were he to appear in it among the pastures of his native valley. The ladies in corset-bodices and loose white lawn sleeves, who trill out startling notes from the back attics of their larynx, ! ' 8 LINNET or elicit sweet harmonies from mediaeval-looking maiiJo- lins, in Kursaals and Alcazars, have purchased their Tyrolese dress direct from some Parisian costumier. The real cowherds and milkmaids of the actual Zillerthal are much more prosaic, not to say commonplace, creatures. A green string for a hat-hand, with a blackcock's plume stuck jauntily or saucily at the back of the hat, and a dirty red lappel to the threadbare coat, is all that distinguishes the Tyrolese mountaineer of solid fact from the universal peasant of European Christendom. Indeed, is it not true, after all, that the stage has led us to expect far too much — in costume and otherwise — fiom the tillers of the soil every- where? Is it not true that the agricultural and pastoral classes all the world over, in spite of Theocritus and Thomas Hardy, are apt, when one observes them impar- tially in the flesh, to be earthy, grimy, dull-eyed, and unin- telligent ? Florian Wood didn't think so, however, or affected not to think so — which in his case was probably very much the same thing; for what he really thought about any- thing on earth, affectation aside, it would have puzzled even himself not a little to determine. He was a tiny man of elegant proportions: so tiny, so elegant, that one felt inclined to put him under a glass case and stick him on a mantlepiece. He leant his small arms upon the parapet of a wall as they were approaching Zell, shifted the knapsack on his back with sylph-like grace and murmured ecstatically, with a side glance at the stalwart peasant- women carrying basketfuls of fodder in huge creels on their backs in the fields close by, " How delicious ! How charming! How essentially picturesque! How charac- teristically Tyrolean ! " His companion scanned him up and down with an air of some passing amusement. " Why, I didn't know you'd ever been in the Tyrol before," he objected, bluntly. And, in point of fact, when they started together from Munich that morning on their autumn tour, Florian Wood had never yet crossed the Austrian frontier. But what of that? He had got out of the train some five hours back at Jenbach station, and walked the sixteen miles from there to Zell ; and in the course of the tramp he had matured his views on the characteristics of the Tyrol. " TO INTRODUCE MR. FLORIAN WOOD " 9 But he waved one lily-white hand over the earth none the less with airy dismissal of his friend's implied criti- cism. " How often shall I have to tell you, my dear Deverill," he said blandly, in his lofty didactic tone — the tone which, as often happens with very small men, came most familiarly of all to him — " that you unduly sub- ordinate the ideal to the real, where you ought rather to subordinate the real to the ideal. This, you say, is the Tyrol — the solid, uncompromising geographically definite Tyrol of the tax-gatherer, the postmaster, and the com- mercial traveler — bounded on the north by Bavaria, on the south by Italy, on the east by the rrde Carinthian boor, and on the west by the collection of hotels and pensions marked down on the map as the Swiss Republic. Very well then; let me see if there's anything Tyrolese at all to be found in it. I have instinctive within me a picture of the true, the ideal Tyrol. 1 know well its green pastures, its upland slopes, its innocent peasantry, its fearless chamois- hunters, its beautiful, guileless, fair-haired maidens. Ar- riving by rail to-day in this its prosaic prototype — cast up, as it were, from the train on the sea-coast of this Bohemia — I turn my eyes with interest upon tlie imitation T\ro1 of real life, and strive earnestly to discover some faint points of resemblance, if such there be, with the genuine article as immediately revealed to me." " And you find none ? " Deverill put in, smiling. Florian waved that dainty Dresden china hand ex- pansively once more over the landscape before him, as if it belonged to him. " Pardon me," he said, sententiously ; " in many things, I admit, the reality might be improved upon. The mountains, for example, should be higher, their forms more varied, their peaks more jagged, their sides more precipitous; the snow should drape them with more uniform white, regardless of the petty restrictions of gravity ; the river should tear down far rockier ravines, in more visible cataracts. But Nature has sometimes her happy moments too. And I call this one of them! Those women, now, so Millet-like in their patient toil — how sympathetic! How charming! A less primitive society, a less idyllic folk, would have imposed such burdens upon a horse or a donkey. The Tyrol knows better. It is more naive, more picturesque — in one word. 10 LINNET more original. It imposes them on the willing neck of beautiful woman ! " " It's terribly hard work for them," Deverill answered, observing them with half a sigh, " For them? Ah, yes, I admit it, of course, poor souls! —but for me, my dear fellow — for me, just consider ! It gives me a thrill of the intensest sensibility. In the first place, the picture is a beautiful one in itself — the figures, the baskets, the frame, the setting. In the second place, it suggests to the observant mind an Arcadian life, a true Dorian simplicity. In the third place — which is perhaps the most important of all — it affords me an opportunity for the luxury of sympathy. What is the trifling incon- venience of a heavy load on tlieir backs to these poor ignorant creatures, compared with tl:e refined and artistic pleasure — of an altruistic kind — which I derive from pity- ing them ? " " Florian ! " his friend said, surveying him comically from head to foot, " you really are impayahle. It's no use arguing with you ; it only flatters you. You know very well in your heart you never mean a word of any- thing you say ; so stop your nonsense and put yourself in marching order again. Let's get on to Zell, and see what sort of quarters we can find in the village." Florian Wood came down at once from his epicurean clouds, and strode out with his little legs in the direction of their resting-place. In spite of his tininess, he was a capital walker. If Nature, as he averred, has sometimes her happy moments, she certainly had one when she cre- ated her critic. Florian Wood was a young man of a delicate habit of mind and body — a just and pleasing com- promise between a philosopher and a butterfly. His figure was small but extremely graceful ; his limbs were dainty but well-knit and gazelle-like; his face, though small-featured, was very intelligent, and distinctly good- humored ; his voice was melodious and exquisitely modu- lated. And what Nature had left undone, his godfathers and godmothers did for him at his baptism when they chr'stened him Florian. As plain John Wood, to be sure, he would have been nobody at all ; as William or Thomas or Henry or George, he would have been lost in the multi- tudinous deep sea of London. But his parents had the "TO INTRODUCE MR. FLORIAN WOOD " ii glorious inspiration of dubbing him Florian, and it acted like a charm : all went well in life with him. A baronetcy would have been a far less valuable social passport — for there are many baronets, but only one Florian. Before the romantic rarity of that unique Christian name, the need for a surname paled and faded away into utter noth- ingness. Nobody ever dreamt of calling him " Wood " : they spoke of Florian as they once spoke of " Randolph." On this somewhat illogical but very natural ground, he became from his schooldays upward the spoiled child of society. He was a toy — a plaything. Clubs hung on his clear voice ; women petted and made much of him. When you talk of a man always by his Christian name alone, depend upon it, he becomes in the end as one of the family: mere association of ideas begets in you at last a friendly — nay, almost a fraternal feeling towards him. They walked aloig briskly in the direction of Zell, Florian humming as he went a few stray snatches of Tyrolese songs (or what pass in the world for such), by way of putting himself in emotional harmony with the environment. For Florian was modern, intensely mod- ern. He played with science as he played with every- thing else; and he could talk of the environment by the hour with the best of them in his airy style, as if environ- ments and he had been lifelong companions. But Zell itself, when they got to it, failed somehow to come up to either of their expectations. Florian would have made the valley narrower, or transplanted the village three hundred feet higher up the slope of the hill. As for Will Deverill, less critical of Nature's handicraft, he found the inns over-civilized; the Post and the Brau were too fine for his taste: they had come thus far in search of sjlitude and Alpine wilds, and they lighted instead on a sort of miniature Grindelwald, with half-a-dozen inns, a respect- able cafe, experienced (or in other words extortionate) guides, and a regular tourist-trap for the sale of chamois- horns and carved models of chalets. " This will never do ! " Will Deverill exclaimed, gazing around him in dis- gust at the Greiderer Hotel and the comfortable Welsch- wirth. " This is pure civilization ! '' And Florian. looking down instinctively at his dust- pncumbered boots, murmured with a faint sigh, " A per- ( m. 12 LINNET feet Bond Street ! " For Florian loved to do everything " consummately," — 'twas his own pet adverb ; he aimed at universality, but he aimed quite as much at perfection in detail of the most Pharisaical description. In Picca- dilly, he went clad in a faultless miniature frock-coat, surmounted by the silken sheen of Lincoln and Bennet's glossiest ; but if he made up his mind to Alps and snow- fields, then Alps he would have, pure, simple, and un- adulterated. No half-way houses for him! He would commune at first hand with the eternal hills; he would behold the free life of the mountain folk in all its unso- phisticated and primitive simplicity. So he gazed at his Tom Thumb boots with a regretful eye, and murmured pensively once more, " A perfect Bond Street ! " " What shall we do now ? " Will Deverill asked, stop- ping short and glancing ahead towards the glaciers that close the valley. " See that village on the left there," Florian answered, in a rapt tone of sudden inspiration seizing his arm the- atrically ; " — no, not the lower one on the edge of the level, but that high-perched group of little wooden houses with the green steeple by the edge of the ravine: what a magnificent view of the snow-fields to the south! From there, one must look at a single glance over all the spread- ing fingers and ramifications of the valley." " Perhaps there's no inn there," Will responded, dubiously. " No inn ! You prate to me of inns ? " Florian ex- claimed, striking an attitude. " In full view of these virgin peaks, you venture to raise a question of mere earthly bedrooms — landlord, waiter, chambermaid! Who cares where he sleeps — or whether he sleeps at all — in such a village as that ? " He struck his stick on the ground hard to enforce and emphasize the absoluteness of his determination. " The die is cast," he cried, with the Caesaric firmness of five-feet-nothing. " We cross the stream at once, and we make for the village ! " " Well, there's probably somewhere we can put up for the night and reconnoitre the neighborhood," Will Dev- erill answered, as he followed his friend's lead. "If the "TO INTRODUCE MR. FLORIAN WOOD '* 13 worst comes to the worst, we can fall back upon Zell; but the priest will most likely find us a lodging." No sooner said than done. They mounted the steep slope, and rose by gentle zig-zags towards the upland hamlet. At each step they took, the view over the glacier- bound peaks that close the glen to southward, opened wider and wider. Near an Alpine farmhouse they paused for breath. It was built of brown wood, toned and dark- ened by age, with projecting eaves and basking southern front, where endless cobs of Indian corn in treble tiers and rows hung out drying in the sunshine. Florian drank in the pretty picture with the intense enjoyment of youth and health and a rich sensuous nature. There was a human element, too, giving life to the foreground. Three Tyrolese children, a boy and two girls, in costumes more obstrusively national than they had yet observed, stood playing with one another on the platform in front of the farmhouse. Florian beamed on them enchanted. " What innocence ! " he cried, ecstatically. " What untrammeled forms! What freedom of limb! What Hellenic supple- ness! Kow different from the cramped motions of our Londor-bred children! You can see in a moment those vigorous young muscles have strengthened themselves from the cradle in the bracing air of the mountains — so fresh they are, so lithe, so gracious, so lissom ! I recog- nize there at once the true note of the Tyrol." As he spoke, the younger girl, playing roughly with the boy, gave him a violent push which nearly sent him over into a neighboring puddle. At that, the elder sister clutched her hard by the wrist and gave her a good shaking, observing at the same time in very familiar accents : " Naow then, Mariar-Ann, if you do like that to *Arry agin, I'll tike you stright in an* tell your mother." It was the genuine unmistakable Cockney dialect! In an agony of injured nerves, Florian seized the elder girl by the collar of her dress, and, holding her at arm's- length, as one might do some venomous reptile, demanded of hei , sternly, in his severest tone : " Now, where on earth did you ever learn English ? " The little Tyrolese, trembling violently in his grasp, SI ' ■I ■ 1 u LINNET stammered out in deadly fear : " Wy, o' course, in London." " Pa was a waiter at the Criterion," the younger sister volunteered in a shrill little voice from a safe distance; " and ma's an Englishwoman. We've come 'ere to retire. Pa 's tiken the farm. But we can't none of us speak any German." Florian relaxed his grasp, a dejected, dispirited, dis- appointed mannikin. " Go, wretched little mudlark ! " he exclaimed^ with a frank gesture of discomfiture, flinging her from him as he spoke. " There isn't, there never was, any objective Tyrol ! " The child retreated prudently to the safe shelter of the doorway, before venturing on a repartee. Then she put out her tongue and took up a stone in her hand. '"' Who are you a-callin' a mudlark? " she answered, with the just indignation of injured innocence. " If my pa was 'ere 'e 'd punch yer bloomin' 'ead for yer." It ill became Florian Wood, that man oi. taste, to bandy w^ords before the eternal hills with social waifs from the slums of Drury Lane. He strode on up the path in moody silence. It was some minutes, indeed, before he had suf- ficiently recovered from this crushing blow to murmur in a subdued voice : " What an incongruous circum- stance ! " " Not so unusual as you'd suppose, though," his com- panion answered with a smile; for he knew the Tyrol. " There are no people on earth so vagrant in their ways as the Tyrolese. They go away as pedlars, musicians, or waiters; but when they've made their pile, almost with- out exception, they come back in the end to their native valleys. I 've more than once met hunters or farmers in these upland glens who spoke to me in English, not always without a tinge of American accent. Perhaps it 's not so much that these people emigrate as that they always come back again. They think other countries good enough to make money in, but the Zillerthal 's the one place where they'd care to spend it." Florian answered nothing. He strode on, sore dis- tressed. The only Tyrol worth tuppence, he now knew to his cost, was the one he had erected, anterior to ex- perience, in his own imagination. CHAPTER 11 A FRESH ACQUAINTANCE It was a steep pull up to the little village on the hill, which Florian had selected by pure intuition for their immediate headquarters. But once they had arrived there the glorious panorama w' ich disclosed itself in one bursv to their enchanted eyes made them forget the fatigues of their long tramp to reach it. The village was a tiny one, but comely and prosperous; composed of great farm- houses with big boulders piled high on their shingled roofs to keep them in place, and a quaint old church, whose tall and tapering spire was prettily tiled with bright green slates, after the country fashion. Moreover, what was more important just then to the footsore travelers, a hospitable wirthshous or village inn occupied a place of honor on the small green in the center. It was cheer- ful though homely, and c':an in a certain rough coun- trified way; and it faced due south, toward the sun and the snow-fields. Florian saw at a glance there would be a ravishing outlook from the bedroom windows ; and Will Deverill, more practical, and better accustomed to these out-of-the-way nooks, felt inclined to believe they might count at least on decent beds, plain wholesome fare, fresh trout from the stream, and sweet venison from the moun- tains. The name over the door was Andreas Hausberger. Will entered the inn with a polite inclination of the head, and inquired in his very best German of the first man he saw if he could speak with the landlord. " I am he," the stranger said, drawing himself up with much dignity. " This inn is my Schloss. My name is Hausberger." Will Deverill surveyed him with a critical air. He had seen such men before; they are not uncommon in the rural Tyrol. Tall, powerful, big-built, with a resolute face and a determined mien, he looked like a man well IS i6 LINNET able to keep order among the noisy frequenters of his rustic tavern. For the wirth or innkeeper of these re- mote villages is often, after the priest, the most important personage of the little community : he represents the tem- poral as the pfarrer represents the spiritual authority. The owner of four or five horses, the entertainer of strange guests, the dispenser of liquor to the countryside, the organizer of festivals, marriage- feasts, and dances, the proprietor of the one club and assembly-room of the village, the zvirth is necessarily a man of mark and of local position, beyond anything that is usual with his kind else- where. In the communal council his voice is supreme; the parlor is his court-house : he settles all quarrels, attests all deeds, arranges all assemblies, and assists, as a matter of course, at all rural ceremonies. " Can we have rooms here for a week? " Will inquired, still in German. The landlord led them upstairs and showed them two bedrooms on the first floor, roughly furnished, but neat, and, as Florian had foreseen, with a glorious outlook. Will proceeded to inquire, as interpreter for the party, about various details of price, possibilities as to meals, excursions in the neighborhood, and other practical mat- ters. The landlord answered all in the same self-respect- ing and almost haughty tone as before, assuring him in few words as to the excellence of the bread and the meat, the cleanliness of the beds, the soundness of the beer, and the advantages and respectability of his estab- lishment in general. " You will be as well here," he said, summing up, ''as in New York or London — a little less luxury, perhaps, but quite as much real and solid com- fort." " What does he say ? " Florian asked, languidly , as the landlord finished. For, though in his capacity as man of culture, the philosopher of taste was prepared to give a critical opinion offhand at any moment, on Goethe or Heine, the Minnesanger, or the Nibelungenlied, he was innocent of even the faintest acquaintance with the Ger- man language. Two words in it amply served his turn: vvith wieviel and ja wohl, he made the tour of the Father- land. Will explained to him in brief, and in the vulgar tongue, A FRESH ACQUAINTANCE »7 the nature of the landlord's somewhat high-flown com- mendations. By way of answer Florian unslung his knapsack, which he flung on the bed with as much iron determination as his height permitted. " This '11 do," he said, decisively — this time in his character as the man of impulse. " I like the house ; I like the place ; I like the view ; I like the landlord. He 's a dignified looking old boy in his way, the landlord, with that independence of mien and that manly chivalry which forms an integral part of my mental conception of the Tyrolese character. No bowing and scraping there; no civilized flunkeydom. And that scar on his face, you observe ; what a history it conceals : some free fight on the hills, no doubt, or some tussle with a wounded bear in his native forest ! " " Wal, no ; not pre-cisely that," the landlord answered, m very Teutonic English, strangely tinged with an under- current of a most Western flavor. " I got that mark in a scrimmage one day on a Mississippi steamer. It was a pretty hard fight, with a pretty hard lot, too — he was a real rough customer — one of these professional monte- sharpers that go up and down on the boats on the lookout for flats; but I settled him, anyway. He didn't want another when we'd squared accounts over that gash on my face. He retired into private life at the St. Louis hospital for the next few voyages." Poor Fi,)rian collapsed. This was too. ^oo much! He sank on the sofa with a dejected face, drew a very long breath from the innenfiost depths of his manly bosom, and at last gasped out with a violent eiTort : " Are there no Tyrolese in the Tyrol at all, then ? " The landlord smiled, a restrained and cautious smile. He was a self-contained sort of man very large and roomy. " Why, I 'm a T\roler, myself," he said, opening the second window, and bustling about the room a little — " as Tyrolese as they make 'em ; but I 've been around the world a bit, for all that, both in Europe and America." "You play the zither?" Will inouired guessing at once what quest was most likely to have taken him there. The landlord shook his head. "No; I sing," he answered. " It was in charge of a troupe that I went over the water. You know Ludwig Rainer? " i8 LINNET ! ! I li! "Who has an hotel on the Achensee?" Will replied. "The well-known jodel singer? Yes; I've stayed there and heard him." " Wal, he set the thing going," Herr Andreas Haus- berger continued, still bustling about the room ; " he took over a troupe to New York and Chicawgo. The first time, he fell in with a pack of scoundrels who cheated him of everything he made by the trip. The second time, he came back with a few hundred dollars. The third time. he got into a very good thing, and made money enough "3 out of his tour to start the Seehof. So / followed suit, but I only saved enough on my first venture to set me up here in this house in the village. It's a one-horse affair for a man like me. Next time, I hope I shall make a little capital to start a big hotel for foreign tourists and kur-guests at Meran or Innsbruck." " Then you mean to go again ? " Will Deverill asked, sitting down. " Why, certainly," the landlord answered, retreating to the door, " as soon as ever I can get another good troupe together again." And with a ceremonious bow, like a courtly gentleman that he was, he retired downstairs to superintend the preparation of those fresh mountain trout he had promised them for dinner. As soon as he was gone, Florian raised himself on one elbow like a startled butterfly, with an air of studious vacancy, and stared hard at Will Deverill. " What an extraordinary country," he murmured, with a pensive sigh. " It 's Babel reversed. Everybody seems to speak and understand every European language. The very babes and sucklings call one names as one passes, in vile gutter English. It 's really quite uncanny. Who 'd have thought, now, of meeting in an out-of-the-way lost corner of earth like this, a village innkeeper who 's a man of the world, a distinguished traveler, an accomplished linguist, and an intelligent impresario? The ways of Providence are truly mysterious ! What a place to bury such a shin- ing light! Why dump him down so, in this untrodden valley?" " Oh, it *s not by any means such a singular case as you suppose," Will answered, looking up from the knap- sack he was engaged in unpacking — " above all, in the A FRESH ACQUAINTANCE 19 Zillerthal. 1 Ve never been here before myself, but I 've always been told in other parts of the Tyrol that the Ziller- thalers, men and girls, are every one of them born musi- cians. And as for our landlord here, the Tyrolese luirth is always a man of light and leading in his own society. He opposes the priest, and heads the liberal party. All the popular leaders in the war of independence in the Tyrol were monks or innkeepers. Andreas Hofer, him- self, you know, had an inn of his own in the Passer valley." " Ah, to be sure/' Florian ejaculated, in an acquiescent tone of a peculiar calibre, which showed his friend at once he hadn't the remotest idea who Andreas Hofer, was or why one should be expected to know anything about him. Now, want of knowledge on such a point is, of course, most natural and pardonable in a stranger ; but there was no sufficient reason. Will Deverill thought, for Florian's pretence at its possession where he really knew nothing. That, however, was poor Florian's foible. He couldn't bear to have it thought he was ignorant of anything, from mathematics or music to esoteric Buddhism. If a native of Siberia had addressed him casually in the Ostiak dialect of the Tungusian language, Florian would have nodded and smiled a non-committing assent, as though Ostiak had always been his mother-tongue, and he had drunk in Tungusian at his nurse's bosom. "You know who Andreas Hofer was, of course?'* Deverill went on persistently. He was a devil of a fellow for not letting you oflf when he caught you out in an inno- cent little piece of social pretension, was Deverill. Florian, thus hard pressed, found himself compelled to do what he hated most in the world — confess his ignor- ance. " I remember the gentleman's respected name, of course ! " he said, dubiously, with a sickly smile and a little forced pleasantry ; " but his precise claims to distinction, as Men of the Time puts it in its cheerful circular, entirely escape my memory for the moment." " He was the leader of the spontaneous Tyrolese peasant movement, you know, for the expulsion of the French and their Bavarian allies in 1808 or thereabouts," Will went on, still unpacking. " Napoleon caught him at last, and had him shot at Mantua. You'll see his tomb when you go to Innsbruck, and lots of other mementos of him all , f. 26 LINNET i over the country everywhere. He pervades the place. He *s the national hero, in fact — the martyr of independ- ence — a. sort of later and more historical William Wallace." " Dear me, yes ; how stupid of me ! " Florian cried, clap- ping his hand to his head in a sudden burst of pretended recollection. " It comes back to me now, of course. Good old Andreas Hofer. How could I ever forget him ? The Tyrolese William Tell! The Hampden of the Alps. The undaunted Caractacus of these snow-clad moun- tains ! " Deverill pulled off his coat. " If I were you," he said, drily, ** instead of rhapsodizing here, I'd go into my own room, have a jolly good wash, and get ready for dinner. We must have walked about twenty-two miles since we got out at Jenbach, and this bracing air gives one a posi- tively Gargantuan appetite." Florian roused himself with a yawn, for though vig- orous enough of his size, he was a lazy creature, and when once he sat down it was with difficulty he could be pre- vailed upon to put himself in motion again. Ten minutes later they were seated at the white-covered table in the tidy little salon, doing the fullest justice to the delicious broiled trout, the foaming amber ale, the fresh laid eggs, and the excellent home-made bread, provided, according to promise, by Herr Andreas Hausberger. CHAPTER III WITHIN SIGHT OF A HEROINE Next morning early, aroused by the cloister bell, Will Deverill rose, and looked out of his window. Oh, such an exquisite day ! In that clear, crisp air the summits of the Floitenspitze, the Loffler, and the Tumerkamp glist- ened like diamonds in the full morning sunlight. 'Twas a sight to rejoice his poetic soul. For Will Deverill, though too modest to give himself airs, like Florian, was a poet by birth, and a journalist by trade. Nature had designed him for an immortal bard ; circumstances had turned him into an occasional leader-writer. He stood there entranced for many minutes together. He had pushed the leaded window open wide when he first rose, and the keen moun- tain air blew in at it most refreshingly. All, all was beautiful. He looked out on the fresh green pastures, the deep glen below, the white stream in its midst, the still whiter tops of the virgin mountains beyond it. A stanza for his new poem rose spontaenous in his mind as he leaned his arms on the low sill and gazed out upon the great glaciers : "I found it not where solemn Alps and grey Draw crimson glories from the new-born day, Nor where huge sombre pines loom overhanging Niagara's rainbow spray." He was just feeling in his pocket for a pencil to jot down the rough draft of these few lines, when of a sudden, at the window in the next room at the side, what should he see but Florian's pale face peeping forth most piteously. "What's the matter? Haven't you slept?" Will in- quired of his disconsolate friend with a sympathetic nod. The epicurean philosopher shook a sad, slow head with a painfully cheerful air of stoical resignation. " Not a wink since three o'clock," he answered, gloomily. ax 22 LINNET mil (( not- " Those dreadful creatures have bothered me without ceasing." " Surely," Will began, somewhat surprised, Florian shook his head wearily. " No, wo he murmured with melancholy emphasis. about them. not them," I don't mind They, at least, are silent, and, besides, if you like, you can get up and catch them. Bells, bells ! my dear fellow; bells, bells, all the morning. They've been tink- ling in my ear every blessed minute since the clock struck three. It's unendurable, horrible." " Oh, the cow-bells ! " Will answered, laughing. " Why, for my part, I like them. They're a feature of the place ; they sound so countrified. I hardly hear them at all, or if I hear them, they come to me drowsily through the haze of my dreams like die murmur of water or a nurse's lulla- by. I find them, to tell you the truth, positively sooth- ing. Beside," he added, mischievously, with a malicious little smile, " in such a village as this, who cares where he sleeps, or whether he sleeps at all ? He should be able to subsist here on scenery and the aflfections." At the words, Floiian's head disappeared incontinently. That, surely, was the unkindest cut of all. Thus convic- ted out of his own mouth, by his familiar friend, he could but retire abashed to complete his toilet. That Deverill should have slept all night long, while he lay awake, and tossed, and turned, and wished ill to the whole ill-omened race of cows, was bad enough in all conscience ; but that he should pretend he liked those disgusting bells was noth- ing short of atrocious. He descended a little later to the homely parlor. Will was down there before him, and had succeeded in ferreting? out an old violin from a corner cupboard. He was musi- cal, was Will — not, to be sure, in the grand perceptive and critical way, like Florian himself, who played no in- strument and understood all perfectly, but, after the in- ferior fashion of the mere dexterous executant, who possesses a certain physical suppleness and deftness of fingers to elicit from dumb strings the most delicate fan- cies of a Mendelssohn or a Chopin. In pursuance of this lesser gift of his — " the common faculty of the fiddler," as Florian called it — Will was just then engaged by the open window in playing over to himself a pretty little song WITHIN SIGHT OF A HEROINE as by some unknown composer. He played it very well, too, Florian admitted, condescendingly ; Will had a capital ear, indeed, and was not without feeling of a sort, for the finer touches in musical composition — up to a certain point, you know; not quite, of course, to the high and delicate level of Florian's own cultivated and refined perceptions. It was a charming piece, however — a very charming piece — and, after a while. Will began singing the words to it. Florian listened with pleasure and a forgiving smile to the clever twists and turns of that well-arranged melody. As he stood there, listening, a little behind, one impres- sive forefinger held up in an attitude of discriminative at- tention, he was aware of two voices in the street outside catching up the tune naturally, and fitting it as if in sport to shapeless syllables of their own invention. They were women's voices, too, young and rich and powerful; and what was odder still, to Florian's immense surprise, they took up their proper parts as second and third in a con- certed piece, like trained musicians. Strange to find such finished vocalists in a mere peasant hamlet! — but, there, no doubt they were some of Herr Hausberger's Trans- atlantic performers. Florian moved closer to the window to observe the unknown but silvery-tongued strangers. As he did so, two plump and rosy-cheeked mountain lasses, in homespun kirtles, fled, blushing and giggling, with their hands to their mouths, away from the close scrutiny of the foreign Herrschaft. Accustomed as he was by this time to marvelous incongruities in this land of surprises, Florian could hardly believe his own eyes when he further observed that the two girls with the divine voices were driving cows home from the pasture to the milking shed. Great heavens, yes! there was no gainsaying it. Shade of War:ner, incredible ! The accomplished vocalists whose fine sense of melody so delighted his acute and critical ear were nothing but a pair of common country milkmaids ! Will Deverill, too, had risen, and, with a friendly nod, was gazing out appreciation at his unknown accompanists. Florian turned to him, all amazement. " They must have practised it before," he cried. " They must know it all of old. It must certainly be one of their own national pieces." "Oh, no," the poet replied in a very confident voice. H LINNET (( They can't possibly have heard it. It's quite, quite new. I'm sure about that. It's never yet been published." ** But, my dear fellow," Florian exclaimed, with much argumentative heat, " I assure you, none but the most instructed musicians could possibly take up the right chords like that, and sing them second and third, without having practiced them beforehand. Allow me to know something of the musical art. Even Patti her- self " " Why, the song's my own," Will broke in, much amused, and unable to restrain himself. " I ought to know ; it was I who wrote it." " The words ! ah, yes, to be sure ; the words are noth- ing. They didn't sing them, of course; 'twas the melody they caught at. And the melody, I venture to assert, with- out fear of contradiction — the melody, from the peculiar way it modulates into the sub-dominant, must certainly be one of their own love songs." " But I composed the tune too," Will made answer with a quiet smile. " It's never been played before. It came up into my head in the railway carriage yesterday, and seeing this old fiddle in the cupboard this morning, I thought I'd try it over before scoring it down, just to hear how it sounded." " You wrote it ! " Florian repeated, dazzled and stunned at the news. ** You compose as well as rhyme! You set your own songs to music, do you? Well, upon my soul, Deverill, I hadn't till this moment the slightest idea you had such an accomplishment." " Oh, I'm only a beginner," Will answered, with a faint blush, laying down the violin, — " or rather an amateur, for I've always dabbled in it. But I've only published one song. I just strum to amuse myself. Good morning, Herr Hausberger; what an exquisite day! We'd better take advantage of it for a climb up the Rauhenkopf." The landlord, dish in hand, bowed his cour'^eous and courtly bow. There was deference in it, without a tinge of servility. Florian noted with approbation that mixture of independence and a just self-respect which formed a component part of his preconceived idea of the Tyrolese character. Andreas Hausberger was " right," because he was very much as Florian would have pictured him. WITHIN ':IGHT OF A HEROINE as If-, " Yes; a very good day for the ascent," the landloid said, quietly. " We will put up some lunch — cold meat and Pilsener. You'll get a fine view, if you start in good time, over the Zementhal glaciers." Florian sat down to the table, a trifle crestfallen ; but the poached eggs were excellent, and the coffee fragrant ; and he consoled himself for the cow-bells and the mishap about the song by the reflection that, after all, these idyllic milkmaids, with the voice of a prima donna and the man- ners of Arcadia, were in exact accordance with the oper- atic ideal of his own imagined Tyrol. They sang like the Chorus of Happy Peasants ; they behaved as the mountain lass of poetry ought always to behave, and as the mountain lass of reality often utterly fails to do. That morning on the Rauhenkopf was to Florian a day of unmixed delights. He was At Home with Nature. In a vague sort of way, without troubling himself much to know anything about them, the town-bred philosopher loved the fragrant fields, the beiutiful flowers, the mossy rocks, the bright birds, the chirping insects. And Will Deverill knew them all — their names, and where to find them. The ragged, sweet-scented pinks still loitered late in deep clefts of the glacier-worn rock ; a few stray sky- blue gentians st'.ll starred the rich patches of Alpine pas- ture; emperors and orange-tips still flaunted their gaudy wings in full autumn sunshine. Florian drank in all these things with pure sensuous delight ; the sweet sounds of the fields, the smell of tedded kine filled his aesthetic soul, not so much with direct pleasure, as with some faint afterglow of literary reminiscence. At one of the little alp-huts among the higher pastures. Will Deverill murmured a cheerful " Guten Morgen," as he passed, to a buxom peasant lass in a woollen kirtle, who stood busy at her churn by the door of her chalet. The girl curtseyed, and looked back at them with such a good- humored smile that Florian, as an admirer of female beauty, couldn't resist the temptation of standing still for a moment to take a good long gaze at her. " What's she doing up here alone? " he asked at last, turning curiously to Will, as the girl still smiled at him. " Does she come up here every day ? It's a fearful long pull for her. But then — this charming air ! such strength ! such agility 1 " 26 LINNET tt ii! IIM Why, she lives here/' Will answered, surprised that anyone shouldn't know what to him was such an obvious and familiar fact. " She doesn't come up at all, except once in the spring; and in autumn she goes down again. It must be nearly time for her to go down now, I should say. There's not much fodder left in these upper alps here." " Lives here ! " Florian exclaimed, taken aback. " What ? — and sleeps here as well ? You don't mean to say she sleeps in that little wooden box thei e ? " " Certainly. She's a scnnerin. you know ; it's her busi- ness to do it. All the alp girls live like that ; they've been born and brought up to it." In his innermost soul, Florian was dying to know what manner of wild beast a sennerin might be — being undecid- ed in his own mind ?.s to whether it was most probably the name of a race, a religion, a caste, or a profession. But it would have been treason to his principles to confess this fact, so he compromised with his curiosity by murmur- ing blandly in reply, "Oh, ay, to be sure, a scnnerin! I might have guessed it! Do you think now, Deverill, if we asked her very nicely, she'd let us go in and inspect her chalet?" " I'm sure she would," Will answered, half repressing a smile. " They see so little of any outsiders while they're up here on their alps that they're only too glad, as a rule, when a stranger visits them. We'll give her a couple of kreuzers for a glass of milk ; that'll serve as an introduc- tion." He raised his hat jauntily, and approached the hut with a few words of apology. The scnnerin smiled in return, bobbed, curtseying low, and welcomed them aflfably to her hospitable shelter. After a minute's parley with Will. the good-humored young woman brought out a jug of fresh milk, still frothy from the cow, and poured it out for them liberally in a blue stoneware mug. Will drank his off at a draught; Florian hated milk, but as admirer of female beauty — she was a good-looking wench — he gu.ped it down to the dregs without even a grimace, and handed the mug back again. Then Deverill talked for a while with their sunburnt entertainer in that unknown tongue WITHIN SIGHT OF A HEROINE 27 which Florian didn't understand; though he could see from thair laughing faces and their quick tones of repartee that she was a merry brown lass, shy and bashful indeed before the foreign gentlefolk, but frank and fearless for ill that as. his soul could wish, and absolutely free from the absurd conventionalities and mauvaise honte of the women who dwell in our too civilized cities. She was no more afraid of men than of oxen. Florian liked that well. Here, at least, was true freedom ; here, at least, was ancestral sim- plicity of life; here the woman held her own on equal terms with the man ; here love was unfettered by law or by gold, untrammelled by those hampering inconvenient restraints of parental supervision, society, or priestcraft, which impede its true course in our too complex com- munities. Florian's lungs breathed freer in this rarified air : he had risen above the zone of Mrs. Grundy. At the end of their brisk colloquy, which he followed but in part, the sennerin, with a gesture of countrified courtesy, turned to the door with a pretty smile and waved Florian into her chalet. " She says you may look over it and welcome," Will Deverill exclaimed, interrupting. Florian, nothing daunted, entered and gazed around. It was a rough log hut, divided into two rooms by a wooden partition — a big one, with a door behind, for the cows and calves; and a little one, with a door in front, for the sennerin's own bed-chamber, kitchen, and parlor. The chief article of furniture seemed to him to consist of a great black cauldron, suspended from a crane over the open fireplace, and used — so Will assured him — as the principal utensil in the manufacture of cheese. The fire itself blazed in a hole, dug roughly in t*he floor of native turf ; the edge of this hole, cut out into a rude seat, did duty as sofa, couch, chair, and c limney-corner. Florian sniffed some- what dubiously. " And she sleeps here all alone ? " he said, with a suppressed shudder. This was Arcadian sim- plicity, he felt, with quite too much of the bloom off. " Yes ; she sleeps here all alone," Will answered, undis- turbed. " Comes up in May, when the snow first melts, and goes down in October, when it begins to lie thick again." The sennerin, laughing aloud, confirmed his report with ^Ililllll 28 LINNET many nods and shrugs, and much good-humored merri- ment. It amused her to see the stranger's hsrtf-incredul- ous astonishment. " And aren't you frightened ? " Florian asked, Will in- terpreting the question for him. The scnnerin laughed the bare idea to scorn. " Why should I be ? '' she exclaimed, brimming over with smiles of naive surprise at such a grotesque notion. " There are plenty more girls in all the other huts on the alps round about. This hut's Andreas Hausberger's, and so are that and that. He owns all these pastures ; we come up and herd cows for him." " Isn't it terribly lonely though ? " Florian inquired with open eyes, reflecting silently to himself that after all there were advantages — of a sort — in Bond Street. " Lonely ! " the senncrin cried, in her own country dia- lect. " We've no time to be lonely. We have to mind the cows, don't you see, worthy well-born Herr, and give milk to the calves, and make cheese and butter, and clean our pots and pans, and do everything ourselves for our food and washing. I can tell you we're tired enough when the day's well over, and we creep into our loft, and fall asleep on the straw there." " And she has no Society ? " Florian exclaimed, all aghast at the thought. For to him the companionship of his brother man, and perhaps even more of his sister woman, was a necessary of existence. The girl's eye brightened with an unwonted fire as Will explained the remark to her. " Ah, yes," she said half- saucily, with a" very coquettish toss of her pretty black- head ; " when Saturday night comes round then sure enough our mountain lads climb up from the valley below to visit us. We have Saturday to ourselves — and them — till Monday morning ; for you know the song says — " and she trilled it out archly in clear, qu' k notes — *' With my pouch unhung, And my rifle slunf?, And away to my black-eyed alp-girl ! " She sang it expressively, in a rich full voice, far sweeter than could have been expected from so stalwart a maiden. WITHIN SIGHT OF A HEROINE 29 iFlori'an saw an opportunity for bringing out one stray phrase from his slender stock of German. " Das ist schon ! " he cried, clapping his hands ; "sehr schon ! So schon ! " Then he relapsed into his mother-tongue. " And you sing it admirably ! " Their evident appreciation touched the alp-girl's vanity. Like most of her class she had no false modesty. She I broke out at once spontaneously into another native song, Iwith a wild free lilt, which exactly suited both her voice I and character. It was excellently rendered ; even Florian, I that stern critic, admitted as much; and as soon as she ended both men clapped their hands in sincere applause I of her unpremeditated performance. The scnnerin looked down modestly when Will praised her singing. "Ah, I you should just hear Linnet ! " she cried, in unaffected self- j depreciation. " And who's Linnet ? " Will asked, smiling at the girl's perfect frankness. " Oh, she's one of Hen Hausberger's cow-girls," the isennerin answered, with a little shake of her saucy head. *' But you needn't ask her; she's a great deal too shy ; she I won't give you a chance ; she never sings before strangers." " That's a pity," Will replied, lightly, not much think- i ing what he said ; " for if she sings better than you, worthy friend, she must be well worth hearing." The sennerin looked down again. Her ruddy cheek [glowed ruddier. Such praise from such lips discomposed her serenity. Will glanced at his watch. " We must be going, Florian," he said. "Half-past twelve already! [I've no coppers in my pocket. Have you anything you [can offer this lady gay for her agreeable entertainment? " Florian pulled out his purse, and took from it gingerly a I well-worn twenty-kreuzer piece — one of those flimsy silvered shams which the Austrian Government in its pa- Jternal stirginess imposes as money upon its faithful lieges. iThe sennerin accepted it with a profusion of thanks, and tsmothered the generous donor's hand with unstinted [kisses. So much happiness may a man diffuse in this world of woe with a fourpenny pit, bestowed in due [season! But Florian mistook that customary symbol of ^thanks on the alp-girl's part for an expression of her most leart-felt personal consideration; and not to be outdone 11: 30 LINNET when it came to idyllic courtship, he lifted her hand in re- turn to his own gracious lips and kissed it gallantly. Will raised his hat and smiled, without commenting on this misconception, and with a cheery " Auf wiedersehen ! " they went on their way rejoicing once more up the slopes of the mountain. I CHAPTER IV ENTER LINNET Lunch on the summit was delicious that day, and the view was glorious. But when they returned in the even- ing to the inn at St. Valentin — that was the name of their village — and described to Andreas Hausberger how an alp-girl had sung for them in a mountain hut, the zarth listened to the description with a depreciatory smile, and then said with a little shrug : " Ah, that was Philippina ; she can't do very much. Her high notes are too shrill. You should just hear Linnet ! " " Is Linnet such a songstress then ? " Florian cried, with I that dubious smile of his. The wirth looked grave. " She can sing" he said, [pointedly. His dignity was hurt by the young man's half- I sceptical, half-bantering tone. And your Tyroler is above jail things conservative of his dignity. These repeated commendations of this unknown Lin- Inet, however, with her quaintly pretty un-German-sound- ling name, piqued the two Englishmen's curiosity in no [small degree as to her personality and powers, so that when the zmrth next morning announced after breakfast, [with a self-satisfied smile, " Linnet's coming down to-day," JFlorian and Will looked across at each other with one ac- icord, and exclaimed in unison, " Ah, now then, we shall Isee her ! " And, sure enough, about five o'clock that afternoon, as |the strangers were returning from a long stroll on the moded heights that overhang the village, they came un- [expectedly, at a turn of the mountain footpath, where two [roads ran together, upon a quaint and picturesque Arca- [dian procession. A long string of patient cows, in their :ream-colored coats of all Tyrolese cattle, wound their ^ay with cai'^.ious steps down the cobble-paved zig-zags, tinkling bell hung by a leather belt from the neck of ^ach; garlands of wild flowers festooned their horns; a 31 32 LINNET group of peasant children assisted at the rude pageant. In front walked a boy, with a wreath slung across his right shoulder like a sash, leading the foremost cow most unceremoniously by the horns ; the rear was brought up by a pretty sunburnt girl, with a bunch of soft pasque-flowers stuck daintily in her brown haii , and a nosegay of bluebells peeping coquettishly out of her full round bosom. Though vigorous-looking in figure, and bronzed in face by the sun and the open air, she was of finer mould and more delicate fibre. Will saw at a glance, than most of the common peasant women in that workaday, valley. Her features were full but regular; her mouth, though large and very rich in the lips (as is often the case with sing- ers), was yet rosy and attractive; her eyes were full of fire, after the true Tyrolese fashion; her rounded throat, just then trembling with song, had a waxy softness of outline in its curves and quivers that betrayed in a moment a deep musical nature. For she was singing as she went, to the jingling accompaniment of some thirty cow-bells; and not even the sweet distraction of that rustic discord could hide from Will Deverill's quick, appreciative ear the fact that he stood here face to face with a vocalist of rare natural gifts, and some homespun training. He paused, behind the wall, as the procession wound round a long double bend, and listened, all ears, to a verse or two of her simple but exquisite music. " This must be Linnet ! " he cried at last, turning ab- ruptly to Florian. And the boy at the head of the procession, now opposite him by the bond, catching at the general drift of the words with real Tyrolese quickness, called out with a loud laugh to the singer just above : " Sagt er, das musz ja Linnet seyn ! " and then exploded with merriment at the bare idea that the Herrschaft should have heard the name and fame of his companion. As for the girl herself, surprised and taken aback at this sudden interruption, she stood still and hesitated. For a moment she paused, leaning hard on the long stick with which she guided and admonished her vagrant cows ; then she looked up and drew a long breath, looked down and blushed, looked up once more and smiled, looked down and blushed again. They had overtaken her unawares ENTER LINNET 33 where the paths ran together; but as each was enclosed with a high wall of granite boulders, overgrown with brambles, she had no chance of perceiving them till they were close upon her. She broke off her song at once, and stood crimson-faced beside them. " Ah, sing again ! " Florian cried, folding two dainty palms in a rapture on his breast, and putting his delicate hv^ad on one side in a transport of enchantment. " Why, Deverill, how she sings ! what a linnet indeed ! and how pretty she is, too! For the first time in my life, I really regret I can't speak German ! " The singer, looking up, all tremulous to have overheard this unfeigned homage, made answer, to Florian's equal delight and surprise, " I can speak a little English." It would be more correct, perhaps, to put it that what she actually said, was : " Ei kann schpiek a liddle Ennglisch " ; but Florian, in his joy that any means of inter-communication existed between them at all, paid small heed at the time to these slight Teutonic defects in her delivery of our language. " You can speak English ! " he exclaimed, overjoyed, for it would have been a real calamity to him to find a pretty girl in the place, with a beautiful voice, and he un- able to converse in any known tongue with her. " How delightful ! How charming ! How quite too unexpected ! I'm so glad to know that! For had it been otherwise, I should really have had to learn German to talk with you ! " This overstrained compliment, though it rose quite naturally to Florian's practiced lips, and was far more genuine than a great deal of his talk, made the girl blush and stammer with extreme embarrassment. She was un- accustomed, indeed, to such lavish praise, above all from the gentlefolk. Was the gnddige Herr making fun of her, she wondered? She grew hot and uncomfortable. For- tunately for her self-possession, however, Will Deverill in- tervened with a more practical remark. " You speak Eng- lish, do you? " he repeated. " That's odd, in these parts. One would hardly have thought that ! How did you come to learn it ? " "My father was a guide," the girl answered, slowly, making a pause at each word, and picking her way with difficulty through the insidious pit-falls of British pro- M 34 LINNET .!!ii nunciation. (She called it fahder.) "He taked plenty Ennglish gentlemen up the mountains before time. 1 learn so well from him, as also from many of the Ennglish gentlemen. Then, too, I take lesson from'Herr Haus- berger in winters, and from English young lady at the farm by Martinsbrunn." Florian gazed at his companion with an agonized look of mingled alarm and horror. " Do you know who she means ? " he cried, seizing Will's arm. " This is too, too terrible! The girl on the hillside who sticks out her tongue! that horrible little Cockney! She'll teach this innocent child to say * naow,' and ' lidy ' ! At last I feel I have a mission in life. We must save her from this fate! We must instruct her ourselves in pure educated Eng- lish ! " " And how do you come to be called Linnet ? " Will in- quired with some interest, a new light breaking in upon him. " That's surely an English name. Who was it first called you so ? " " An Ennglish gentleman when I was all quite small," the girl replied, with much difficulty, searching her phrases with studious care. " He stop at my father's hut on our alp many nights — I know not how man says it — so must he go up the mountains. I sing to him often when he come down at evening. My right name is called in German, Lina; but the gentleman, says he, that I sing like a bird. A linnet, that is in Ennglish a singing-bird. Therefore, Linnet he call me. The name please my father much, who make a great deal of me ; so from that time in forwards, all folk in the village call me also Linnet." Will broke out into German. " They're quite right," he said, politely, though with less ecstasy than Florian; " for you do indeed sing like a real song-bird. I'm so sorry we interrupted you ; pray go on with your song again." But Linnet hung her head. " No, no," she answered, hastily, in her own native tongue, glad to find he spoke German. " I didn't know I was overheard. If I'd been singing for such as you, I'd not have chosen a little coun- try song like that. And besides " — she broke oflF sudden- ly, with a coy wave of her brown hand, " I can't sing be- fore strangers the same as I can before my own people." II ) ENTER LINNET 35 And she tapped the hindmost heifer with her rod as she spoke, to set the line in motion; for the cows, after their kind, had taken advantage of the pause to put down their heads to the ground, and browse placidly at the green weeds that bordered the wayside. At one touch of her wand the bells tinkled once more; the long string got under way; the children by the side recommenced their loud shouts of rustic merry-mak- ing. For the return of the cows from the alp is a little festival in the villages ; it ends the long summer's work on the mountain side, and brings back the unmarried girls from their upland exile to their homes in the valley. Lin- net drove her herd now, however, more soberly and staid- ly. The free merriment of Arcadia had faded out of 'the ceremony. One touch of civilization had dispelled the dream. She knew she was observed ; she knew the two strangers were waiting to hear if she would trill forth her wild song ogain, for they followed close at her heels, talk- ing rapidly jmong themselves in their ovn language — so rapidly, indeed, that Linnet, could hardly snatch here and there by the way a single word of their earnest con- versation. Once or twice she looked back at them, half- timidly, lialf-provokingly. " Sing again ! " Florian cried, clasping his hands in en- treaty. But the wayward alp-girl only laughed her coy refusal. " No, no," she said in her patois, with a little shake of her beautiful head ; " that must not be so. I sing no more now. I must drive home my cows. They are tired from the mountains." " But, I say," Florian cried at last, bursting in upon his mountain nymph with this very colloquial and unpoetic adjuration ; " look here, you know, Fraulein Linnet, you say you learn English from our landlord, Herr Haus- berger. Now, what does he want to teach you for? " Linnet turned round to him with a naive air of unaf- fected surprise. " Why, when he teach me Ennglish songs," she said, " I will know what mean the words. Also, I have remembered a little — a verv little — since the Ennglish gentleman teach me at mv father's. Besides, too. shall I not need it when I go to England ? " " Go to England I " Florian repeated, all amazed at the ■n ill 36 LINNET frank remark. She seemed to take it for granted they must know all her plans. *' When you go to England ! Oh, he means to take you there, then ! You're one of his troupe, I suppose ; or you're going to be one." " I am not gone away yet," Linnet answered, not a little abashed to find herself the center of so much unwonted interest ; " but I go next time ; I will sing with his band. All summers, I stop on the mountain and milk ; with the winter, come I down to the house to practise." " But you don't mean to say," Will put in, in German (it was easier so for Linnet to answer him), "he lets a singer like you live out by herself in a chalet on the hills with the cows all summer ? " Linnet held up her hands, palm outward, with a pretty little gesture of polite deprecation. Her movements were always naturally graceful. " Why not? " slin caid, bright- ly, in German, with no little suppressed merriment at his astonished face. " That's Andreas Hausberger's plan ; he believes in that way; he calls it his system. He says we Zillerthalers owe our beautiful voices — for they tell us we can sing a great deal better than the people in any other valley about — to our open-air life on the very high moun- tains. The air there is thin, and it suits our throats, he says." She clasped her hand to her own as she spoke, that beautiful, well-developed, clear-toned organ, with a natural gesture of unconscious reverence. *' It develops them — that's his word ; he believes there's nothing like it. En- twickelung; entwickelung! I get more good, he t'links, for my voice in the summer on the alp than I get f; "n nil my lessons in the winter in the valley. For t'-'c A\ ont itself comes first — that's what Andreas holds — and aj( r- wards the teaching. Not for worlds would he let me miss my summer life on the mountains." " And how long has he been training you ? " Will in- quired with real interest. This was so strange a page of life thus laid open before him. " Oh, for years and years, gnlidigc Hcrr'* Linnet an- swered, shyly, for so much open attention on the younj^^ man's part made her awkwardly self-conscious. " Ever since my father died, he has always been teaching me." " Has your father been dead long? " Will inquired. Linnet crossed herself devoutly. " He was killed eight ENTER LINNET 37 years ago on the 20th of August last," she said, looking up as she spoke towards the forest-clad mountains. " May Our Dear Lady and all holy saints deliver his honored soul from the fires of purgatory ! " " But your mother's alive still, I suppose, Fraulein," Florian put in with a killing smile ; he had been straining his ears, and was delighted to have caught the general drift of the conversation. " Yes ; thanks to the Blessed Virgin, my mother live still," Linnet answered in English. " And I keep her comfortable, as for a widow woman, from that which Andreas Hausberger pay me for the summer, as also for the singing. But for what, mein Herr, do you make to call me Fraulein? Do you wish to rnock at me? I am only an alp-girl, and I am call just Linnet." She flushed as she spoke, and turned hastily to Will. " Tell him," she said in German, with an impatient little toss of one hand towards Florian, " that it isn't pretty of him to make fun of poor peasant girls like that. Why does he call me such names? He knows very well I am no real Fraulein." Florian raised his hat at once in his dimpled small hand, with that courtly bow and smile so much admired in Bond Street. " Pardon me," he said, with more truth and feel- ing than was usual with him ; " you have a superb voice ; with a gift like that, you are a Fraulein indeed. It extorts our homage. Heaven only knows to what height it may some day lead you." m. r'M M CHAPTER V THE WIRTH S THEORY In the evening, while they dined, the landlord came in to see how they fared, and wish them good appetite : 'tis the custom with distinguished guests in the Tyrol. The moment he entered, Florian, all agog, attacked him at once on the subject of their wonderful find that afternoon on the hillside. " Well, Herr Hausberger," he cried in his high-flown way, " we've seen and heard your Linnet— heard her warbling her native wood-notes wild, to the tune of her own cow-bells on her lonely mountains. Now what do you mean, sir, by turning out a divine singer like that — I'm a musical critic myself, and I know what I'm talking about — what do you mean by turning her out to make butter and cheese in a solitary hut on an Alpine pas- ture? It's sheer desecration, I tell you — sheer wicked desecration ; there's nothing, almost, that girl couldn't do with her voice. She's a genius — a prodigy ; §he ought to be clothed in purple and fine linen, and fare sumptuously every day on champagne and turtle. And you, sir — you send her up to herd cows all alone, in an inclement clime, on o barren hill-top ! " Andreas Hausberger gazed at him with a self-contained smile that was extremely characteristic. He bowed a sar- castic bow which Florian misinterpreted for polite sub- servience. " Are you running this show or am I ? " he asked, after a fresh pause, with a quaint reminiscence of his Western experience. " You are, undoubtedly," Florian answered, taken aback at this unexpected assiult. " But you ought to run it, all the same, on rational and humane and intelligent prin- ciples. You owe this girl's voice, as a delight and a treas- ure, to US, the enlightened and critical connoisseurs of two eager continents. Nature produced it that we might enjoy it. It was intended to give us some of those ex- quisite moments of artistic pleasure which are the sole ex- 38 THE WIRTH'S THEORY 39 cuse creative caprice can plead for the manifold defects of the Universe." Andreas Hausberger looked down at him with a half- pitying curl on those stern thin lips of his. Florian had at- tacked him lightly where his position was strongest. " That's all right," he said, slowly, with a chilly drawl — 'twas his favorite expression. " And do you think then," he went on, bursting forth almost scornfully, in spite of his outward deference, " we Zillerthalers get our fine singing voices and our musical ears by pure chance and accident ? Not so, you may be sure of it. It's no mere coincidence that our men and women can almost without exception sing like birds from their childhood upwards by the light of Nature. What gives them this power? Why, they live their lives long, in summer especially, in the thin clear atmosphere of our higher mountains. There isn't much sour-stuff in it — what do you call it in English ? — oh, oxy- jren, don't you Wal, there isn't much oxygen in that thin upper air — rarefied, I think you say — and therefore they're obliged to fill their lungs well and expand their chests " — he swelled himself out as he spoke, and showed off his own splendid girth to the fullest advantage — " and that gives them large reservoirs and rich, pure-toned voices." " I never thought of that before," Will Deverill inter- posed, much struck by the landlord's plausible reasoning. " I suppose that's why mountain races, like the Welsh and the Tyrolese, are so often musical. The rarefied air must tend to strengthen and develop the larynx." ** No ; you never thought of that before," Andreas Hausberger echoed. " You haven't had to think of it. And you haven't had to select and train a choir of our Tyrolese peasants. But I have thought of it for years, and satisfied myself it's true. Is it for nothing, do you suppose, that on our cold mountain tops the vocal chords, as they say, are braced up and tightened ? Is it for noth- ing that in that clear, pure, limpid air the very nerves of the ear, strained hard to catch quickly at distant sounds, are exercised and educated Do you think, if I wanted to pick out voices for a musical troupe, I would go for them to Holland, or to Lombardy, or to Hamburg? No, no; I would go right away to the griinde there, the upper forks of the Zillerthal, in the crystal air just below the glaciers, 40 LINNET W:^ and pick out my best singers from the cow-boys and the alp-girls." He spoke of what he knew and had long reflected upon. Acquaintance with his subject supplied in part the unim- portant deficiencies of his English vocabulary; and, be- sides, he had said the same things before a dozen times over, to other English travelers. " Perhaps you may be right," Florian responded, bland- ly, as the wirth paused for breath in his eager harangue. It was a way of Florian's to be bland when he saw he was getting the worst of an argument. " Right ! " Andreas Hausberger rep'eated. " Never mind about that ! You'd know I was right if only you'd seen as much of these people as I have. Look here, Mr. Wood, you say it's desecration to send a girl like Linnet after butter and cheese in a sennerin's hut on the lonely mountains. You say I owe her voice as a treasure to hu- manity. Wal, I acknowledge the debt, and I try to dis- charge it to the best of my ability. I send her to the hills — the free open hills — where she will breathe fresh air, develop her throat and lungs, eat wholesome food, grow strong and brown and hearty. If I clothed her in purple and fine linen, as you wish, and fed her every day on champagne and turtle, do you really imagine I'd be doing her a t,ood turn? I'd be ruining her voice for her. In the summer, she gains breath and good health on the grassy mountains ; in the winter, she gets training and ad- vice and assistance from Lindner and myself and what- ever other teachers we can find in the Zillerthal." " I surrender at discretion," Florian answered, with a yawn, rising up and flinging his small person lazily on the home-made sofa. " I admit your contention. You in- terest me strangely. Your peasants and your country girls have finely developed ears and capital voices. No doubt you're correct in attributing these splendid gifts to the clearness of the atmosphere and the wild life of the mountains. I'm a musical critic in London myself, and I know what a voice is the moment I hear it. Indeed, after all, what does it matter in the end if these divine creatures spend a joyless life for years in sordid and squalid sur- roundings, provided only, when they burst forth at last in ^he full effulgence of their musical prime, they afford us^ THE WIRTH'S THEORY 41 who can appreciate them, and for whose sake they exist, one vivid thrill of pure artistic enjoyment?" And he stroked his ou^n smooth and girlish cheek with one plump hand, lovingly. " You're a musical critic, are you ? " Andreas Haus- berger repeated, with marked interest, disregarding the last i?\v words of Florian's flowing rhapsody. " Then you shall hear Linnet sing. You can say after that whether I'm right in my system or not." He opened the dcor hastily. " Linnet, Linnet," he called out in the Tyrolese dialect, " come in here at once. I want the Herrschaft to hear you singing." For a minute after he spoke, there was a flutter and a rustling at the door outside ; somebody seemed to be push- ing some unwilling person bit by bit along the passage. A murmur of whispered voices in the local dialect floated faintly to Will's ears. " You must ! " " But I can't." "You shall!" "I won't." "He says you are to." " Ah, no ; I'm ashamed ! Not before those gentlemen ! " In the end, as it seemed, the first voice had its way. The door opened brusquely, and Linnet, all trembling, her face in her hands, and crimson with shame, was pushed bodily forward by unseen arms into the stranger's pres- ence. For a moment she stood there like a frightened child. Will's cheek burned hot with sympathetic tingling. Florian leaned back philosophically as he lay, and regarded this pretty picture of beauty in distress with observant complacency. She was charming, so, to be sure! That red flush became her. " Sing to the gentlemen," Andreas Hausberger said, calmly, in a tone of command. " Take your hands from vour face at once ; don't behave like a baby." He spoke in German, but Florian followed him all the same. 'Twas delicious to watch this pretty little comedy of rustic ingenuousness. " Oh, I can't ! " Linnet cried, all abashed, removing her hands for a second from her burning cheeks, and clasping them hard on her throbbing breast for one fiery moment before she clapped them up hastilv again. " To bid one like this ! It's so hard ! It's so dreadful ! " " Don't ask her just now," Will Deverill put in plead- ingly. " On^ can see sh? has such a natural shrinking and 42 LINNET {I ' il I disclination at first. Some other night, perhaps. When we've been here a Httle longer, she may be less afraid of us." Linnet let her hand drop once more, and gave him a grateful glance, sidling away towards the door like a timid child in her misery. But Andreas Hausberger, for his part, was not so to be put off. " No, no," he said, sternly, fixing his eye with a determined gaze on the poor shrink- ing girl ; " she must sing if I tell her to. That's all right. This shyness is absurd. How can she ever appear on a platform, I should like to know, before a couple of hun- dred people, if she won't sing here when she's told before just you two Englishmen? Do as I bid you, Linnet! No nonsense, my girl ! Stand here by the table, and gwe us * The Bride of Hinter-Dux.' " Thus authoritatively commanded, poor Linnet took her stand where Andreas Hausberger motioned her, steadied herself with one trembling little fist on the edge of the table, raised her eyes to the ceiling away from the two young men, and, drawing a deep breath, with her throat held out and her mouth opened tremulously, b^gan to trill forth, in her rich, silvery voice, a deep bell-like song of her own native mountain. For the first minute or two she was nervous, and quivered and paused unduly; after a- while, however, inborn artistic instinct overcame her nervousness : she let her eyes drop and rest in a flash once or twice on Will Deverill's. They were kindly eyes, Will's; they reassured and encouraged her. "Bravo!" they seemed to say ; " you're rendering it admirably." Emboldened by his friendly glance, she took heart and went through with it. Towards the end, her courage and self-possession returned, for, like all Tyrolese, she was brave and self-reliant in her inmost soul, though shy at first sight, and bashful on the surface. The two last stan- zas she sang to perfection. As she finished, Will looked up and said simply, " Thank you ; that was beautiful, beau- tiful." But Florian clapped his hands in obtrusive ap- plause. " Well done ! " he cried ; " well done ! you have given us such a treat. We can forgive Herr Hausberger now for insisting on a performance." " And you must accustom yourself to an audience," the wirth said in German, with that same quiet air of iron THE WIRTH'S THEORY 43 resolution Will had already marked in him. '" li ever you're to face a whole roomful of people, you must be able first to come in upon the platform without all this silly fuss and hang-back nonsense." Linnet's nostrils quivered. Slie steadied herself with her hand on the table once more, and made answer boldly, " I think I could more easily face a roomful of people I'd never seen than sing before two in the parlor of the inn here; that seems less personal. But," she added shyly, with half an appealing glance towards Will, " I'm not so nervous now. If this gentleman wishes, I — I would sing another song to him ? " And so she did — a second and a third. As she went on, she grew braver, and sang each time more naturally. At last the zinyth dismissed her. Linnet curtsied, and disap- peared, *' Well, what do you say to her now ? " the land- lord asked in a tone of triumph, turning round to the young men as the door closed behind her. Florian assumed his most studiously judicial air. The perfect critic should, above all things, be critical. Before Linnet's face, indeed, he had been enthusiastic enough, as politeness and due respect for her sex demanded; ^ut be- hind her back, and in her teacher's presence, regard lor his reputation compelled him to adopt the severest tone of in- corruptible impartiality. " I think," he said slowly, fingering his chin in or. 2 hand, and speaking with great deliberation, like a recognized authority, " with time and training she ought to serve your purpose well for popular entertainments. Her organ, though undeveloped, is not wholly without some natural power and compass." " And / think," Will Deverill added, with a glow of generous enthusiasm, " you've lighted on one of the very finest voices in all Europe." ^W' ' mI lllll'l:! iiii! liSm CHAPTER VI THE ROBBLER A DAY or two passed, and the young men from time to time saw, by glimpses and snatches, a good deal of Linnet. For now the summer season on the hills was over, and the cows had come back to their stall-fed existence, the musi- cal alp-girl had leisure on her hands for household duties. In the morning she helped in the general work of the inn ; in the afternoon she practiced much in the parlor upstairs with Andreas Hausberger and his little company. But in the evenings, — ah, then, the landlord brought her in more than once, by special request, to sing her native songs to Will Deverill's accompaniment on the lame old fiddle from the corner cupboard. Those were pleasant meetings enough. Gradually the mountain lass grew less afraid of the strangers; she talked German more freely with Will Deverill now, and considerably enlarged her English vocabulary by listening to Florian's richly-worded harangues on men, women, and things, and the musical glasses. It surprised Florian not a little, however, to see that this child of Nature, unlike the ladies of culture in London drawing-rooms, positively preferred Will's society to his own, if such a fact seems credible; though he ex- plained away in part this unaccountable defect of taste and instinct in one female heart by the reflection that, after all, Will was able to converse with her in her own language. His own finer points she could hardly understand; his words were too deep, his thoughts were too high for her. Still, it annoyed him that even an unsophisticated alp-girl should display so singular and so marked a predilection for any other man when he was present. Indeed, he half made up his mind, irksome as he felt sure the task would prove, to learn German at once, as a safeguard against so humiliating a contretemps in future. In the early part of the next week, Will proposed one 44 THE ROBBLER 45 day they should mount the hills behind St. Valentin, in search of a rare fern he was anxious to secure before the snows of winter. Andreas Hausberger, nodding his head, had heard of it before. It was a well-known rarity; all botanists who came to the Zillerthal, he said, were sure to go in search of it. " But I'm r^L a botanist," Will burst out deprecatingly, for to admit that fell impeachment is to number yourself outright in the dismal roll of scientific Dryasdusts ; " I only want the plants because I love them." " That's all right," Andreas answered, in his accus- tomed phrase." " You want the plant, anyway. That's the chief thing, ain't it? Wal, there's only one place any^vhere about St. Valentin that it ever grows, and that's the Tuxerloch ; without somebody to guide you there you'd never find it." " Oh, I won't have a guide," Will responded, hastily. " I hate to be guided. It's too ignominious. If I can't find my own way about low mountains like these, in the forest region, I'd prefer to lose it; and I certainly won't pay a man to show me where the fern is." " Certainly not," the ivirth answered, with true Tyro- lese thrift. " I didn't mean that. Why waste your money on one of the regular guides, who charge you five florins for eating half your lunch for you? But Linnet knows the way as well as any trained guide of them. It's not a hard road ; she'll go along with you and show you it." " Oh, dear no," Will replied, with a little hurried em- barrassment, for he felt it would be awkward lO be thrown all day into the society of a young girl in so equivocal a position. *' I'm sure we can find the way all right our- selves. There are wood-cutters on the hills we can ask about the path ; and if it comes to that, I really don't mind whether I find it or not — it's only by way of goal for a day's expedition." Andreas Hausberger, however, was an imperious soul. " Linnet shall go," he said, shortly, without making more words about it. " She has nothing else to do. It's bad for her to be cooped up in the house too much. A long walk on the hills will be no end of good for her. That's what I always say ; when young women come down from the mountains in winter, they do themselves harm by changing their mode of life fill at once too suddenly, and 11 ■,i'', 1, 1 ii-i !|:: i:!^;i' i I! II!! I I;! i!iiiiai,!:i!:i!i: 'iilliiiiiiii i'ii'lii!^: .' iiiiii 46 LINNET living in close rooms without half the exercise they used to take on the alp with their milking and churning." So, whether they would or not, the two young men were compelled, in the end to put up as best they might with Linnet's guidance and company. No great hardsliip either. Will thought to himself, as Linnet, bare-headed, but in her Sunday best, led the way up the green slopes be- hind the village inn, with the bounding gait of a holiday alp-girl. As to Florian, his soul was in the seventh heav- ens. To see that Oread's light foot trip gracefully over the lawns was to him pure joy — a stray iDreath of Hellas. What Hellas was like, to be sure — the arid Hellas of reality — with its dusty dry hills and its basking rocks, Florian had not in his own soul the very faintest conception. But still, the Hellenic ideal was none the less near and dear to him. From stray scraps of Theocritus and his inner consciousness he had constructed for himself an Arcadia of quite Alpine greenness, and had peopled it with lithe maidens c f uncircumscribed affections, "^^o, whenever he wanted to give anything in heaven or h the highest praise in his power, he observed with » ..inocent smile that it was utterly Hellenic. Linnet led them on, talking unaffectedly as she went, by long ridge-like spurs, up vague trails, through the woods, and over spongy pastures. As elsewhere on their walks. Florian noted here and there little white-washed shrines at every turn of the road, and endless rude crucifixes where ghastly white limbs seemed to writhe and struggle in realistic torture. Of a sudden, by one of these, Linnet dropped on her knees-r-all at once without a word of warn- ing; she dropped as if mechanically, her lips moving mean- while in muttered prayer. F'lorian gazed at her curiously; Will stood by expectant, in a reverent and mutely sympa- thetic attitude. For some minutes the girl knelt there, murmuring low to herself. As she rose from her knees, she turned gravely to Will. " Here my father has died," she said, with a solemn slowmess in her broken English. " He has slipped from that rock. The fall has killed him. Will you say, for his soul's repose, before you go, a Vater- unser? " She looked up at him pleadingly, as if she thought the THE ROBBLER 47 prayers of so great a gentleman must carry weight of their own in Our Lady's councils. With infinite gentleness, Will bowed his head in acquiescence, and, after a moment's hesitation, not to hurt her feelings, dropped on his knees himself and bent his neck in silent prayer before the tawdry little oratory. It was one of those rough shrines, painted by unskilled fingers, where naked souls in rude flames of purgatory plead for aid with clasped hands and outstretched arms to placidly unheeding blue-robed Madonnas. Underneath, an inscription, with N's turned the wrong way, and capitals mixed with smaller letters, in- formed the passer-by that, " Here, on the 20th of August 188 — , the virtuous guide and experienced woodcutter, Josef Telser of St. Valentin, perished by a fall from a slip- pery rock during a dangerous thunderstorm. The pious wanderer is hereby implored to say three Paternosters, of his charitable good-will, to redeem a tortured soul from the fires of purgatory." Will knelt there for a minute or two, muttering the Paternosters out of pure consideration for Linnet's sen- sitive feelings. When he rose from his knees again, he saw the girl herself had moved oflf a little way to pick a few bright ragworts and Michaelmas daisies that still lingered on these bare heights, for a bouquet to lay before the shrine of Our Lady. Like all her countrywomen, she was profoundly religious — or, if you choose to put it so, profoundly superstitious. ('Tis the point of view alone that makes all the difference.) Florian, a little apart, with his hand on his cheek and his head on one side, eyed the oratory sentimentally. " How sweet it is," he said, after a pause, with an expansive smile, " to see this poor child, with her childlike faith, thus throwing herself on her knees in filial submission before her father's cenotaph! How delightful is the sentiment that prompts such respect for the memory of the dead! How eloquent must be the words of her simple colophon ! " Florian was iond of colophons ; he didn't know what they were, but he always thought them so very Hellenic ! Will's face was graver. With one finger he pointed to the uncompromising flames of that most material purg;a- tory. " Pm afraid," he said, seriously, " to her, poor child, Iliii 48 LINNET lilili, IIHIiiiilli I I I, 11!!i,,j!I| I this act cf worship envisages itself in a very different fash- ion. She prays to hasten the escape of her father's soul from what she takes to be a place of very genuine torture." Florian looked closer. As yet, he had never observed the subsidiary episode of the spirits in their throes of fiery torment, which forms a component part of all these way- side oratories. He inspected the rude design with d'stant philosopiiical interest. " This is quaint," he said, " most quaint. I admire its art immensely. The point about it all that particularly appeals to me is the charming superi- ority of Our Lady's calm soul to the essentially modern vice of pity. There she sits on her throne, unswerved and unswerving, not even deigning to contemplate with that marked squint in her eye the extremely unpleasant and uncomfortable position of her petitioners beneath her. I admire it very much. I find it qjiite Etruscan." '* To you : nd me — yes, quaint — nothing more than that," Will responded, soberly ; " but to Linnet, it's all real — fire, flames, and torments ; she believes what she sees there." As he spoke, the girl came back, with her nosegay in her hand, and, tying it round with a thread from a little roll in her pocket, laid it reverently on the shrine with a very low obeisance. " You see," she said to Will, speak- ing in English once more, for Andreas Hausberger wished her to take advantage of this unusual opportunity for ac- quiring the language, " my poor father is killed in the mid- dle of his sins ; he falls from the rock and is taken up dead ; there is no priest close by ; he has not confessed ; he has not had absolution ; he has no viaticum ; no oil to anoint him. That makes it that he must go straight down cO purgatory." And she clasped her hands as she spoke In very genuine sympathy. " Then all these shrines," Florian said, looking up a lit- tle surprised, " are they all of them where somebody has been killed by accident ? " " The most of them," Linnet answered, as who should say of course; " so many of our people are that way killed, you see ; it is thunderstorms, or snow-slides, or trees that fall, or floods on rivers, things that I cannot say, for I know not the names how to speak them in English. And, as no priest is by, so shall they go to purgatory. For THE ROBBLER 49 that, we make shrines to release them from their tor- ments." They had gone on their way by this time, and reached a corner of the path where it turned abruptly in zig-zags round a great rocky precipice. Just as they drew abreast of it, and were passing the corner, a young man came sud- denly on them from the opposite direction. He was a fiery young man, dressed in the native Tyrolese costume of real life ; his hand held a rifle ; his conical hat was gaily decked behind, like most of his countrymen's, with a blackcock's feather. The stranger's mien was bold — nay, saucy and defiant. He looked every inch a typical Alpine jiiger. As he confronted them he paused, and glared for a moment at Linnet. Next instant he raised his hat with half-sarcastic politeness ; then, in a very rapid voice, he said something to their companion in a patois so pro- nounced that Will Deverill himself, familiar as he was with land and people, could make nothing out of it. But Linnet, unabashed, answered him back once or twice in the same uncouth dialect. Their colloquy grew warm. The stranger seemed angry ; he waved his hand toward the Englishmen, and appeared, as Will judged, to be asking their pretty guide what she d'd in such company. As for Linnet, her answers were, evidently of the sort which turneth away wrath, though on this hot-headed young man they were ineffectually bestowef^ He stamped his foot once or twice; then he turned to Will Deverill. "Who sent you out with the scn\erin?" he asked, haughtily, ir. good German. Will answered him back with calm but cold politeness. " Herr Hausberger, our wirth," he said, " asked the Fraulein to accompany us, as she knew the place where a certain fern I wished to find on the hills war. growing." " I know where it grows myself," the j'dgcr replied, with a defiant air. " Let her go back to the inn ; it is far for her to walk. I can show you the way to it." " Certainly not," Will retorted, in moi>t decided tones. "The Fraulein has been good enough to accompany us thus far: I can't allow her now to go back alone to the village." " She's used to it." the man said, grufifly, with half a sneer, his fingers twitching. \ t I ll> 50 LINNET " That may be," Will retorted, with quiet self-posses- sion ; " but I'm not used to allowing her to do so." For a minute the stranger put one sturdy foot forward, held his head haughtily, with his hat on one side, and half lifted his fist, as if inclined to rush forthwith upon the of- fending Englishman, and settle the question between them then and there by open violence. But Linnet, biting her lip and knitting her brow in suspense, rushed in to separate them. " Take care what you do," she cried hurriedly in English to Will. " Don't let him strike. Stand away of him. He's a Robbie. ! " " A what? " Will replied, half smiling at her eagerness for he was not at all alarmed himself by her truculent fel- low-countryman. " A Robbler," Linnet repeated, looking up at him plead- ingly. " You know not what that is ? Then will I tell you quickly. The feather in his hat, it is turned the wrong way. When a Tyrolese does so, he wills thereby to say he will make himself a Robbler. Therefore, if any one speaks angry to him, it is known he will strike back. It is — I cannot say what it means in English, but it invites to fight; it is the sign of a challenge." " Well, Robbler or no Robbler, I'm not afraid of him," Will answered, with quiet determination ; " and if he zvill fight, why, of course, he must take what he gets for it." " Perhaps," Linnet said, simply, gazing back at him, much surprised, " in your own country you are also a Robbler." The naivete of her remark made Will laugh in spite of himself. That laugh saved bloodshed. The Tyrolese, on his part, seeing the absurdity of the situation all at once, broke into a smile himself; and, with that unlucky smile. his sole claim to Robblerhood vanished incontinently. Linnet saw her advantage. In a moment, she had poured into the young man's ear a perfect flood of explanatory eloquence in their native dialect. Gradually the Robbler's defiant attitude relaxed ; his face grew calmer ; he accepted her account. Then he turned to Will with a more molli- fied manner : ** You may go on," he said, graciously, with a regal nod of his head ; " I allow the sennerin to continue her way with you." As for Will, he felt half inclined, at first, to resent the IP THE ROBBLER 51 •■! i lordly air of the Robbler's concession. On second thoughts, however, for Linnet's sake, in his ignorance of who the young man might be, and the nature of his claim upon her, he judged it better to avoid any quarrel of any sort with a native of the valley. So he raised his hat courteously, and let the stranger depart, with a very bad grace, along the road to the village. " What did you tell him ? " he asked of Linnet, as the Robbler went his way, singing defiantly to himself, down the grassy zig-zag. " Oh, I told him," Linnet answered, with a little flush of excitement, " Andreas Hausberger had sent me that you might teach me English." " Is he your brother ? " Will asked, not that he thought that likely, but because it was less pointed than if he had asked her outright, " Is this young man your lover ? " Linnet shook her head. " Ah, no," she answered, with a very decided air ; " he's nothing at all to me — not even my friend. I do not so much as care for him. He's only Franz Lindner. But then, he was jealous because he see that I walk with you. He has no right of that ; I am not anything to him ; yet still he must be jealous if somebody speak to me. It is because he is a Robbler, and must do like that. A Robbler shall always fight if any man shall walk or talk with this maiden. Though I am not his maid- en, but he would have me to be it. So will he fight with anyone who shall walk or talk with me. But when I tell him Andreas Hausberger send me that I may learn Eng- lish, then he go away quietly. For Franz Lindner, or any other Robbler, will not fight with a stranger so well as with a Tyroler." I ! :|iV! lliliililli : ! I lllliliii;;; ill! \v CHAPTER VII • WAGER OF BATTLE That evening at the Wirthshaus, as things turned out, Will and Florian had an excellent opportunity afiforded them of observing for themselves the manners and cus- toms of the Tyrolese Robbler. There was a dance at the inn — a prodigious dance, of truly national severity. It was the eve of a wedding, and, as is usual on such oc- casions, the peasants of the neighborhood had assembled in full force to drink good luck to the forthcoming union. The Gaststude or bar-room was crowded with a gay throng of bright and merry faces. The young men were there, jaunty, bold, and defiant; the old men, austere and stern of feature from the hardships of long life among the grim-faced mountains. Groups of black-eyed lasses stood about the room and bandied repartee witn their gaily- dressed admirers ; matrons, unspoilt by conventional re- straint, instead of checking their mirth, looked on smilinc^ and abetting them. Through the midst, the Herr Vicar strolled, stout and complaisant, an easy-going man; not his to stem the tide of their innocent merriment ; so long as they confessed twelve times a year, and subscribed to release their parents' souls from purgatory, he sanctified by his presence the beer and the dances. Andreas Haus- berger, too, flitted here and there through the crowd with an anxious eye ; 'twas his task to provide for and protect the bodies of his guests, as 'twas the Herr Vicar's to save their priceless souls from undue temptation. At one end of the room, on a little raised platform, the music sat installed; — a trombone, a zither, and a wooden hackbrettle made up the whole orchestra. Scarcely had the performers struck up an enlivening tune when the men, selecting as partners the girls of their choice, began to dance round the hall in the very peculiar and (to say the whole truth) extremely ungraceful Tyrolean fashion. 89 WAGER OF BATTLE 53 Will and Florian had heard from the landlord beforehand of the expected feast, to which they were not invited ; but, " at the sound of the harp, sackbut, psaltery, and all kinds of music," as Florian phrased it, their curiosity was so deeply aroused that they crept from their sitting-room and peeped cautiously in at the door of the Tanzhoden. The sight that met their eyes in that close-packed hall was suf- ficiently striking. Even Florian allowed this was utterly Arcadian. For a minute or two, just at first, the young men and maidens, grasping each other wildly round the neck and waist with both their arms, in a sort of bear-like death-hug, whirled and eddied in a maze round and round the room, stamping their heavy boots, till Will almost trembled for the stability of the rafters. For some time that was all: they twisted and twirled in closely-coupled pairs, clasped breast to breast, like so many dancing der- vishes. But, of a sudden, at a change of the music, as if by magic, with one accord, the whole figure altered. Each man, letting his partner go, began suddenly to perform a series of strange antics and evolutions around her, the relics of some pre-historic dance, of which the snapping of fingers and uttering of heuchs in a Highland fling are but a faint and colorless reminiscence. As the reel went on, the music grew gradually faster and faster, and the motions of the men still more savage and fantastic. The two Englishmen looked on in astonishment and admira- tion. Such agility and such verve they had never before seen or even dreamt of. Could these rustic cavaliers be really made of india-rubber? They twisted and turned and contorted themselves all the time wi^h such obvious- ness of their bones, and such extraordinary energy! They smacked their lips and tongues as they went; they jumped high into the air; they bent back till their heads touched the ground behind; they bounded upright once more to regain their position like elastic puppets, and, in between whiles, they slapped their resounding thighs with their horny hands ; they crowed like cocks ; they whistled like capercailzie ; they stamped on the ground with their hob-nailed shoes ; they shouted and sang, and clicked their tongues in their cheeks, and made unearthly noises deep down in their throats for which language has as yet no articulate equivalent.. Florian gazed and glowered. And 54 LINNET 1 ;ii,i |||ii|ii!i;ii;i iji||i'i;i,;,: miiy^iiiin iiiiiii:! Hli' well he might ; 'twas an orgie of strange sound, a phan- tasmagoria of whirling and eddying motion. While all this was going on, the two young English- men stood undecided and observant by the lintel of the door, even Florian half -abashed at so much unwonted merriment. But after a while, the Herr Vicar, whose ac- quaintance they had already made among the ston^^s of the churchyard, spied them out by the entrance, and, with one hospitable fat forefinger extended and crooked, beckoned them into the Tan::boden. " Come on," he cried, " come on ; there's room enough for all ; our people are still glad to entertain the Herr strangers : for some, unawares, have thus entertained angels." So encouraged by the authorized mouthpiece of the par- ish, Will and Florian stepped boldly into the crowded room, and v^atched the little groups of stalwart youn^;; men and nut-brown lasses with all the in'ierest of unex- pected novelty. The scene was indeed a picturesque and curious one. Every Tryolese is, or has been, or wishes to be thought, a mountain hunter. So each man wore his hat, adorned with the trophies of his prowess in the chase; with some, 'twas a gmnsbart, or so-called chamois' beard — the tuft of coarse hair that grows high like a crest along the creature's back in the pairing season ; with others, 'twas the tail-feathers of the glossy blackcock, stuck saucily on one side, with that perky air of self-satisfied as- surance so characteristic of hot youth in the true-born Tyroler. Glancing around the room, however, Will saw at a single look that two young men alone among that eager crowd wore their feathers with a diflference — the " hook " being turned round in the opposite direction from all their neighbors'. One of these two was a tall and big- built young man of very florid complexion, with a scar on his forehead; the other was their fiery friend of that morning on the hills, Franz Lindner. From what Linnet had said. Will guessed at once by the turn of the feather that both young men went in for being considered Rob- blers. As he turned to impart his conjecture to Florian, Lin- net caught his eye mutely from a corner by the mantle- piec' . She wasn't taking part in the reel herself, so, un- daunted by his experience of Franz Lindner that day, Will WAGER OF BATTLE 55 strolled over to her side, followed close at heel by Florian. " You don't dance ? " he said, bending over her with as marked politeness as he would have shown to a lady in a London drawing-room. ** No ; I may not," Linnet answered, in her pretty broken English, with a smile of not unnatural womanly pleasure that the strangers should thus single her out before all her folk for so much personal attention. " I have refuse Franz Lindner, so may I not dance this time with any one. It is our custom so. When a girl shall refuse to dance with a man first, she may not that turn accept any other. Nor may he, in turn, ask her again that evening." " How delightful ! " Florian cried, effusively. " Franz Lindner's loss is our gain, Fraulein Linnet. No; don't frown at me like that ; it must be Fraulein ; I've too much respect for you to call you otherwise. But, anyhow, we'll sit out this dance and talk with you." " And I," Will put in with a quiet smile, " I'll call you Linnet, because you prefer it." " Thank you," Linnet said, shyly, with a grateful flash of her eyes, and a side glance towards Franz Lindner ; " it seems less as if you mock at me." As they spoke, the figure changed of a sudden once more to a still stranger movement. The women, falling apart, massed themselves together in a central group, in attitudes expressive of studied indifference and inatten- tion to the men; their partners, on the contrary, placing themselves full in front of them, began a series of most extraordinary twists and twirls, accompanied by loud cries or snapping of fingers, and endeavored by every means in the power, both of lungs and limbs, to compel their disdainful coquettes to take notice of their antics. While they stood there and watched — Linnet with eyes askance on Franz Lindner's face — Andreas Hausberger strolled up, and took his place beside them. "Why, that's the blackcock's call!" Will exclaimed, with a start of recognition, as the dancers, with one accord, uttered all in a chorus a shrill and piercing note of chal- lenge and defiance. " I've heard it on the mountains." " Yes," the imrth assented ; " that's the blackcock's call, and this, that they're doing, is the blackcock's love-dance. In the springtime, on the mountains, you Hnow, the black- S6 LINNET ; nil ll!!ll:;jiii'i|. ';r!| I i WmMlv::- 1 cocks and the grey hens assemble in their dancing place — their Tansboden we call it, just the same as we call this one. There, the hens stand aside, and pretend to be coy, and take no notice of their mates, like the girls in this dance here; while the blackcock caper in front of them, and flap their wings, and fluff their necks, and do all they know to display their strength and beauty. Whoever dances the most and best, gets most of the hens to join his harem. So our young men have got up this love-dance to imitate them; they flap their arms the same way, and give the blackcock's challenge. Nature's pretty much the same above and below, I guess — especially here in the Tyrol, where we haven't yet learned to hide our feelings under smooth silk hats as you do in England. But it's all good for trade, and that's the great thing. It makes them thirsty. You'll see, after this bout, the beer will flow like water." And sure enough, the wirth was right. As soon as the dance was ended, young men and maidens, with equal zest, betook themselves, all alike, to the consolations of the beer-jug. Their thirst was mighty. And no wonder, in- deed, for this Tyrolese dancing is no drawing-room game, but hard muscular exercise. Andreas Hausberger looked on with a cynical smile on those thin, cold lips of his. " It's good for trade," he murmured again, half to him- self, once or twice, as the girls at the bar filled the beer- mugs merrily ; " very good for trade. So are all amuse- ments. That's the way the foolish get rid of their money — and the wise get hold of it." After the beer came a pause, a long, deep-drawn pause ; and then two young men, standing out from the throng, began to sing alternately at one another in short Tyrolese stanzas. One of them was Franz Lindner ; the other was the young man with the scar on his forehead, whom Lin- net described as her cousin Fridolin. What they sang, neither Florian nor Will could make out, for the words of the song were in the roughest form of the mountain dia- lect ; but it was clear from their manner, and the way they flung out their words point blank at one another's heads, that they improvised as they went, like Virgilian shep- herds, and that their remarks were by no means either polite or complimentary in substance or character. The WAGER OF BATTLE 57 rest stood rrund in a circle and listened, laughing heartily at times as each in turn scored a point no\y and then off his angry rival ; while Linnet and the other girls blushed again and again at some audacious retort, though the bold- er among the women only tittered to themselves or looked up with arch glances at each risky allusion. Andreas Hausberger too, stood by, all alert to keep the peace; it was plain from the quick light in his resolute eye, and the rapid upward movement of his twitching hand, he was ready at a moment's notice to intervene between the com- batants, and put a stop in the nick of time to the scoffing contest of defiance and derision. The song, however, passed off without serious breach of the peace. Then more dances followed, more beer, and more bucolic contests. As the evening wore on, the fun grew fast and furious. On the stroke of twelve, the Herr Vicar withdrew — not one hour too early; his flock were fast getting beyond control of his counsels. Linnet and a few others of the more modest-looking girls npw sat out from the dance; the rest continued to whirl round and round the room in still wilder and more fantastic move- ments than ever. Andreas Hausberger was now yet more clearly on the alert. A stray spark would raise a flame in that magazine of gunpowder. Suddenly, at the end of the first dance after the priest's departure, the young man with the scar on his forehead, called Cousin Fridolin, came forward unexpectedly to where Linnet sat aside between Will Deverill and Florian. He had danced with her once before in the course of the evening, and Will observed that through that dance Franz Lindner's eyes had never been taken off his rival and Linnet, But now the tall young man came forward with a dash, and without one word of warning, placed his conical hat, blackcock's feather and all. with a jodel of challenge, on Linnet's forehead. They had seen the same thing done before more than once that evening, and Linnet had explained to tnem that the cus- tom was equivalent to a declaration of love for the lady so honored — 'twas as much as to say, " This girl is mine ; who disputes it ? " But as the tall young man stood back with a smile of triumph on his handsome lips, one hand on his hip, staring fixedly at Linnet, Franz Lindner sprang forth with a face as black as night, and a brow like thun- 58 LINNET 'ill iilllii.i!l!l der. Trembling vith rage, he seized the hat from her head, and tore hastily from its band the offending plume. " Was kost die Feder ? " he cried, in a tone of angry con- tempt, holding it up in his hand before the eyes of its owner; "Was kost die Feder?" which is, being inter- preted, " How much for your feather ? " Quick as lightning, the answer rang out, " Funf Finger und ein Griff " — " Five fingers and a grip." It is the cus- tomary challenge of the Tyrolese Robbler, and the cus- tomary acceptance. Before Will had time to understand what was happen- ing next, in the crack of a finger, in the twinkle of an eye, the two young men had closed, with hands and arms and bodies, and were grappling with each other in a deadly struggle. All night long they had been watching and provoking one another; all night long they had vied in their attentions to Linnet, and their studious interchange of mutual insults. Sooner or later a fight seemed inevit- able. Now, flown with insolence and beer, and heated from the dance, they flung themselves together, with one accord, like two tigers in their fury. Linnet clapped her hands to her ears, and shut her eyes in horror. For a minute or two, it seemed to every looker-on as though there would be bloodshed in the inn that evening. Florian observed this little episode with philosophic interest ; 'twas pleasant to watch these simple dramas of the primary emo- tions — love, jealousy, passion — still working themselves out as on the stage of Hellas. He had never before seen them so untrammelled in their play ; he stood here face to face with Homeric simplicity. In five minutes, however, to his keen disappointment, the whole scene was finished. Andreas Hausberger, that cool, calm man of the world, perceiving at a glance that such contests in his inn were very bad for trade, and that 'twould be a pity for him to lose by a violent deaui so good a singer, or so constant a customer, interposed his heavy hand between the angry combatants. Your half-tipsy man, be he even a Tyrolese, though often quarrelsome, is usually placable. A short explanation soon set every- thing right again. Constrained by Herr Andreas, with his imperious will, the two Robblers consented, after terms interchanged, to drown their differences in more mugs of WAGER OF BATTLE 59 beer, and then retire for the evening. The young man witii the scar, whom they called Cousin Fridolin, regretted that he had interfered with Franz Lindner's maiden, but excused his act as a mere hasty excess of cousinly feeling. Franz Lindner in return, not to be outdone in magnanim- ity, though still with flashing eyes, and keen side-glance at Linnet, regretted that he had offered such indignity in his haste to the dishonored symbol of his comrade's championship. Hands were shaken all round; cuts and bruises were tended ; and, almost as soon as said, to Flo- rian's infinite disgust, the whole party had settled down by the tables once more, on an amicable basis, to beer and conversation. But before they had retired from that evening's revel, Linnet murmured to Will in a tone of remonstrance very real and aggrieved, " Franz Lindner had no right to call mc his Mddchen/' CHAPTER VIII THE HUMAN HEART Next morning Will woke of himself very early. He jumped out of bed at once, and crossed, as he stood, to the open window. The sun had just risen. Light wisps of white cloud crawled slowly up the mountains ; the dew- drops on the grassblades sparkled in the silent rays like in- numerable opals. 'Twas the very time for an early stroll ! But the air, though keen, had the rawness and chill of an autumn morning. Will sniffed at it dubiously. He had half a mind to turn in again and take an hour's more sleep. Should he dress and go out, or let the world have time to get warmed and aired before venturing abroad in it? As he debated and shivered, however, a sight met his eye which determined him at once on the more heroic course of action. It was Linnet, in her simple little peas- ant dress, turning up the hill-path, that led behind the ivirthshaiLS. Now, a chance of seeing Linnet alone with- out Florian was not to be despised ; she interested him so much, and, besides, he wanted to ask her the whole truth about the Robblers. Without more ado, therefore, he dressed himself hastily, and strolled out of the inn. She hadn't gone far. he i .t sure; he would find her close by, sitting by herself on the open grass-slope beyond the belt of pinewood. And so, sure enough, he did. He came upon her un- seen. She was seated with her back to him on a round boulder of grey stone, pouring her full throat in spon- taneous music. For a minute or two. Will stood still, and listened and looked at her. He could see from his point of vantage, a little on one side behind the boulder, the rise and fall of her swelling bosom, the delicate thrills under her rich brown chin. And then — oh, what melody ! Will drank it in greedily. He was loth to disturb her, so delicious was this outpouring of her soul in song. For, like her namesake of the woods, Linnet sang best when 60 THE HUMAN HEART 6i she sang of her own accord, delivering her full heart of pure internal impulse. At last she ceased, and turned. Her eye fell upon Will. She started and blushed ; she had expected no such audi- ence. The young man raised his hat. " You're alone," he said, "Linnet?" The girl looked up all crimson. " Yes ; I came out that I should be alone," she answered, shyly. " I did not wish to see anyone. I wished for time to think many things over." " Then you don't w^ant me to stop ? " Will broke in, somewhat crestfallen, yet drawing a step nearer. "Oh, no; I do not mean that," Linnet answered in haste, laying her hand on her bosom. Then she burst into German, which came so much easier to her. " I wanted to get away from all the others," she said, looking up at him pleadingly — and, as she looked. Will saw for the first time that big tears stood brimming in her lustrous eyes; " I knew they would tease me about — about what hap- pened last evening, and I didn't wish to hear it till I had thought over with myself what way I should answer them." "Then youVe not afraid of mc?" Will asked, with a little thrill. She was only an alp-girl, but she sang like a goddess; and it's always pleasant, you know, to find a woman trusts one. " I want you to stop," Linnet answered, simply. She motioned him with one hand to a seat on a little heap of dry stones hard by. Will threw himself down on the heap in instant obedience to her mute command, and leaned eagerly forward. " Well, so this Robbler man wants to have you. Linnet," he said, with some earnest- ness ; " and you don't want to have him. And he would have fought for you last night, against the man with the scar; and the girls in the inn will tease you about it this morning." " Yes ; the girls will tease me," Linnet answered, " and will say cruel things, for some of them are not fond of me, because, you see, Franz Lindner and the other man, my cousin Fridolin, are both of them Robblers, and would both of them fight for me. Now, a village that has a Robbler is always very proud of him; he's its champion 62 LINNET piiiiii and head ; and if a Robbler pays attention to a girl, it's a very great honor. So some of tlie other girls don't like it at all, that the Robblers of two villages should quarrel about me. Though Gott in Himmel knows I've not en- couraged either of them." "And would you marry Franz Lindner?" Will asked, with genuine interest. It seemed to him a pity — nay. al- most a desecration — that this bf-autiful girl, with her splen- did voice, and all the possibilities it might enclose for the future, should throw herself away upon a Tyrolese hunter, whom the self-confidence engendered by mere muscular strength had turned for local eyes into a petty hero. "No; I don't think I would marry him," Linnet an- swered, after a short pause, with a deliberate air, as though weighing well in her own mind all the pros and cons of it. " He'd take me if I chose, no doubt, and so also would Fridolin. Franz says he has left three other girls for me. But I don't like him, of course, any better for that. lie ought to have kept to them." "And you like him?" Will went on, drawing circles with his stick on the grass as he spoke, and glancing timid- ly askance at her. " Yes ; I like him — well enough," Linnet responded, doubtfully. " I liked him better once, perhaps. But of late, I care less for him. I never cared for him much in- djeed ;I was never his Miidchcn. He had no right to say that, no right at all, at all — for with us, you know, in Tyrol, that means a great deal. How much, I couldn't tell you. But I never gave him any cause at all to sav so. " And of late you like him less? " W^'ll inquired, press- ing her hard with this awkward question. Yet he spoke sympathetically. He had no reason for what he said, to be sure — no reason on earth. He spoke at random, out of that pure instinctive impulse which leads every man in a pretty girl's presence, mean he little or much, to make at least the best of every passing advantage. 'Tis pure virility that: the natural Adam within us. I wouldn't give ten cents for the too virtuous man who by " ethical culture " has educated it out of him. Linnet looked down at her shoes — for she possessed iliiKi ! THE HUMAN HEART 63 those luxuries. '' Yes ; of late I like him less," she an- swered, somewhat tremulously. " Why so? " Will insisted. His lips, too, quivered. Linnet raised her dark eyes and met his for one instant. " I've seen other people since ; perhaps I like other people better," she answered, candidly. " What other people? " Will asked, all on fire. " Oh, that would he telling," Linnet answered, with an arch look. " Perhaps my cousin Fridolin — or perhaps the young man with the yellow beard — or perhaps the gnadige Herr's honored friend, Herr Florian." Will drew figures with his stick on the grass for a minute or two. Then he looked up and spoke again. •' But, in any case," he said, " you don't mean, whatever comes, to marry Franz Lindner?" It grieved him to tliink she should so throw herself away upon a village bully. Linnet plucked a yellow ragwort and pulled out tlie ray- florets one by one as she answered, " I shan't have the chance. For, tn fell you the truth, I think Andreas Haus- bcrger means himself to marry me." At the words, simply spoken, Will drew back, all aghast. The very notion revolted him. As yet, he was not the least little bit in his own soul aware he was in love with Linnet. He only knew he admired her voice very much ; for the rest, she was but a simple, beautiful, unlettered peasant girl. It doesn't occur, of course, to an English gentleman in Will Devcrill's position, to fall in love at first sight with a Tyrolese milkmaid. Rut Andreas Haus- bcrger! the bare idea distressed him. The man was so cold, so cynical, so austere, so unlovable! and Will more than half-suspected him of avaricious money-grubbing. The girl was so beautiful, s<'> simpi: -hearted, so young, and Iloavcn only knew to what |X)int of success that voice might lead her. " Oli no." he burst out. impetuously ; " you can't really mean that? — vou m^ver could dream — don'l tell me you could — of acccj/ing that man Andreas Haus- bergcr as a husband ! " "Why not?" tht girl said, CA]m\y. "He's rich and well to do. I could keep my mother in such cnmfr)rt then, and pay for such masses for my fat!je/-'« : oul — far more 64 LINNET than if I took Franz Lindner or my cousin Fridolin, who are only Jdgers. Andreas Hausberger's a zvirth, tlie rich- est man in St. \^alentin ; he has horges and cows and lands and pastures. And if he says I must, how can I well re- fuse him ? " She looked up at him with a look of childlike appeal. In a moment, though with an effort, Will realized to him- self how the question looked to her. Andreas Hausbcrgcr was her master, and had alwa}s been her master. She must do as he bid, for he was very masterful. He was her teacher, too, and would help her to make her fortune as a singer in the world, if ever she made it. He was i;ich as the folk of the village counted riches, and could manage that things should be pleasant or unpleasant for her, as it suited his fancy. In a community where men still fought with bodily arms for their brides, Andreas Hausberger's will might well seem law to his scnncrin in any such mat- ter. " Besides." Linnet went on, plucking another ragwort, and similarly demolishing it, " if I didn't want to take him, the Herr Vicar would make me. For the Herr Vicar would do, of course, as Andreas Hausberger wished him. And how could I dare disobey the Herr Vicar's orders?" To this .'^nbtle question of religion and morals Will Deverill. for his part, had no ready-made answer. Church and State, it was clear, were arrayed against him. So, after casting about for a while in his own mind in vain for H reply, he contented himself at last with going off oblique- ly on a collateral issue. ** And you think," he said, 'Andreas Hausberger really wants to marry you? " " Well, he never quite told me so," Linnet replied, half- deprecatingly, as who fears to arrogate to herself too great an honor, " and perhaps I'm wrong : but still T think he means it. And I think it'll perhaps depend in part upon how he finds the foreign Herrscliaft like my sink- ing. For that, he says little to me about it at present. But if he sees T do well, and am worth making his wife — for he's the liest liusband a girl could get in St. Valentin in that case, ja wohl. I believe he'll ask me." She said it all naturally, as so much matter of course. But Will's poetic soul rebelled against the sacrifice. Surely," he cried, " you must love some one else ; and « ill' i' 1 THE HUMAN HEART 65 why not, then, take the man you love, whoever he may be, and leave Andreas Hausberger's money to perish with him?" *' So! " Linnet said quickly — the pretty German " so! " Her fingers trembled as she twitched at the rays of the ragwort. She plucked the florets in haste, and flung them away one by one. First love's conversation deals largely in pauses. " The man one might love," she murmured at last with a petulant air, " doesn't always love one. How should he, indeed? It is not in nature. For, doesn'^ the song say, * Who loves me, love I not ; whom 1 love, loves me not ? ' But what would the Herr Vicar say if he hear ' ;ie talking like this with the foreign gentle- folk? He ci tell me it was sin. A girl should not speak of her heart to strangers. I have spoken too much. But I couldn't help it, somehow. The gnddige Herr is always so kind to me. You lead me on to confess. You can understand these things, I think, so much better than the others." She rose, half-liesitating. Will Deverill, for his part, rose in turn and faced her. For a second each paused; they looked shyly at one another. Will thought her a charming girl — for a common milkmaid. Linnet thought him a kind, good friend — for one of the great unapproach- able foreign Herrschaft. Will held out one frank hand. Linnet gave him the tips of her brown fingers timidly. He clasped them in his own while a man might count ten. "Shall ycui be here . . . to-morrow . . . about the same time? " he inquirec^ before he let them drop, half hesitat- ing. " Perhaps," Linnet answered, looking down demurely. Then blushing, she nodded at him, half curtsied, and sprang away. She gave a rapid glance to right and left, to see if she was perceived, clarted lightly down the hill, and hurried back to the zvirthshans. But all that day long. Will wa? moody and silent. He thought much to himself of this strange idea that Andreas Hausberger, that saturnine man. was to marry this beau- tiful musical alp-girl. CHAPTER IX THE MAN OF THE WORLD For some four or five mornings after this hillside inter- view, Florian noticed every day a most unaccountable fancy on Will Deverill's part for solitary walks at early dawn before breakfast. Neither dew nor hoar-frost seemed to damp his ardor. Florian rose betimes hin • self, to be sure^ but Will had always already distanced him. And on every one of those five mornings, when Will said farewell to Linnet by the big grey boulder, he used the same familiar formula of leave-taking, " You'll be here again to-morrow ? " And every time, Linnet, thrilling and trembling inwardly, answered back the same one conscience-salving word, " Perhaps," which oracular and highly hypothetical promise she nevertheless most amplv fulfilled with great regularity on the following morning. For when Will arrived at the trysting-place, he always found Linnet was there before him ; and she rose from her rocky seat with a blush of downcast wel- come, which a less modest man than he might easily have attributed to its true motive. To Will, however, most unassummg of men and poets, she was only an interest- ing alp-girl, WHO liked to meet him on the hillside for a lesson in English. Though, to be sure, why it was necessary to give the lesson alone in the open air at six o'clock in the morninp^ and, still more, why the professor should have thought it needful to hold the pupil's hand in his own for many minutes together, to enforce his points, Will himself would n donbt have been hard put to ex- plain on philological principles. Moreover, strange to say, foi Linnet's sake, the conversation was conducted mostly in German. Lookers-on, however, see most of the game. On the sixth such morning, it occurred casually to Florian as he lay abed and reflected, to get up early himself and go out 66 THE MAN OF THE WORLD 67 on the hillside. Not that the airy epicurean philosopher was by any means afiflicted with the essentially vulgar vice of curiosity. He was far too deeply occupied with Mr. Flo- rian Wood to think of expending much valuable attention on the habits and manners of less interesting personalities. LuL lii this particular case he felt he had a positive Duty to perform. Now, a Duty had for Florian all the luxury of novelty. He was troubled with few such, and when- ever he found one, he made the most of it. Just at present, he was persuaded Will Deverill was on the eve of " getting himself into an entanglement " with the beautiful milk- maid who so paradoxically preferred his society to Flo- rian's. Plain Duty, therefore, to Will hlmscli, to Mrs. Deverill mdre, to the just expectations of the ladies of England (who had clearly a prior claim on Will's fortune and affection), compelled Florian to interfere before things went too far, so as to save his friend from the con- sequences of his own possible folly. Animated by these noble impulses, Florian did not even shrink from leaving a very snug bed at five o'clock that cold morning, and waiting at the window, like a private detective, till Will took liis way up the path to the hillside. About six. Will emerged from the door of the inn. Florian gave him law, five minutes law — just rope enough to hang himself. Then, marking from the back window which way Will had gone, he followed the trail up hill with all the novel zest of an amateur policeman. Skulk- ing along the pinewood, he came upon them from behind, by the same path which Will himself had taken on the morning when he followed Linnet first to the boulder in the pasture. Then, reading softly over the green turf with muffled footfall, he was close upon the unconscious pair before they knew or suspected it. The ill-advised young people were seated side by side on a little ledge of rock that protruded from the green-sward. Will leant eagerly forward, holding Linnet's hand, and looking hard into her eyes ; the girl herself drew back, and cast down her glance, as if half fearing the ardor of his evident ad- vances. Respect for the conventions made Florian cough lightly before disturbing their interview. At the sound, both looked up. Some five feet nothing of airy observ- ant humanity beamed blandly down upon them. Linnet 68 LINNET gave a little cry, started up in surprise, hid her crimson face hurriedly between two soft brown hands, and then, yielding to the first impulse of her shy rustic nature, fled away without a word, leaving Will face to face with that accusing moralist. The epicurean philosopher seated himself, like stern justice in miniature, beside his erring friend. His face was grave: when Florian did gravity, he did it, as he did everything else, " consummately." For a minute or two he only stared hard at Will, slowly nodding his head like an earthenware mandarin, and stroking his smooth chin in profound meditation. At the end of that time, he de- livered his bolt, point blank. " To-morrow," he said, calmly, " we go on to Innsbruck." " Why so ? " Will asked, with a dogged air of dissent. " Because," Florian answered, with crushing dialectic, " we never intended to spend our whole time on the upper Zillerthal, did we ? " This sudden flank movement took Will fairly by sur- prise. For Florian was quite right. Their plan of cam- paign on leaving London included the South Tyrol, Ver- ona, and Milan. " But a day or two longer," he put in, half-imploringly, thus caught oflF his guard. " Just a day or two longer to ... to settle things up a bit." Stem justice was inexorable. " Not one other night," Florian answered, severely. " The lotus has by this time been sufficiently eaten. I see what this means. I know now why you've kept me here so long at St. Valentin. With Innsbruck and Cortina and the untrodden Dolomites beckoning me on to come, you've planted me plump in this hole, and kept me here at your side — all for the sake of one Tyrolese cow-girl. In the name of common mo- rality," and Florian frowned like a very puisne judge, " I protest against these most irregular and improper pro- ceedings." " I never meant the girl any harm," Will answered, with a faint flush. " That's just it, my dear fellow. I know very well you didn't. That's the head and front of your oflFending. If you had meant her harm, of course I could much more readily have forgiven you." THE MAN OF THE WORLD 69 "Florian," Will said, looking up, "let's be serious, please, for once. This is a serious matter." Florian pursed his thin lips, and knitted his white brows judicially. " H'm, h'm," he said, with slow delib- erateness. " It's as bad as that, is it? Why, Deverill, I assure you, I've rarely — if ever — been as serious as this in all my life before. Don't look at me like that. I mean just what I say. I'm not thinking about the girl, but about you, my dear fellow. The morals of these parts, as you very well know, are primitive — primitive. It won't do her much harm, even if it gets noised about, to have been seen on the hills, alone in the grey dawn, hand in hand with an Englishman. This is no place for Oriental seclusion of women. Indeed, from what I hear, the Ar- cadian relations of these uncHaperoned alp-girls with their lovers from the plains must be something truly sweet in their unaffected simplicity. Herr Hausberger was telling me last night that when an alp-girl marries, all the hunt- ers and peasants, her discarded lovers, whom she has ad- mitted to the intimacy of her chalet on the mountains, leave a cradle at the door of her chosen husband on the night of the wedding. The good man wakes up the morn- ing after his marriage to find staring him in the face, on his own threshold, these tangible proofs of his wife's little slips in her spinster existence. . . . It's a charming cus- tom. I find it quite economical. He knows the worst at once. It saves him the trouble, so common among our- selves, of finding them out for himself piecemeal in the course of his later relations." " You are wandering from the question," Will interrupt- ed, testily. He didn't quite relish these generalized in- nuendoes against poor Linnet's character. " Not at all, not at all," Florian went on very gravely. " The point of these remarks lies in the application there- of, as Captain Cuttle puts it. . . . When Linnet marries, you mean, I suppose, to increase the number of the deli- cate little offerings presented at her door by " Will started up and glared at him. " You shall not speak like that," he cried in a very angry voice, " of such a girl as Linnet," 70 LINNET deprecating gesture towards his excited friend. " This is too bad," he* said, sighing, " very bad indeed, far worse than I imagined. I said it on purpose, just to see what you were driving at. And I find out the worst. If you mean the girl no harm, and take a sHghting little jest on her to heart like that, why your case is desperate — an aggravated attack, complicated by incipient matrimonial symptoms. You iieed change of air, change of scene, change of company. Law of Medes and Persians, it's Innsbruck to-morrow ! You go with me as I bid, or I go without you. Demur, and I leave you at once to your fate. You may stop with your cow-girl." " Don't speak of her by that name ! " Will broke in, half-angrily. But Florian, for his part, was provokingly cool. " All A is A," he said, calmly, with irresistible logic — " and every cow-girl's a cow-girl. I'll call her a boutrophista, or a neat-herding Phyllis, if it gives you any pleasure. That's neither here nor there. The point's just this — You mean the girl no harm : then what the deuce do you mean? Are you going to marry her ? " " No ; certainly not," Will answered. She was a very nice girl, and he loved to talk with her — there was some- thing so sweetly unsophisticated in her ways that she charmed and attracted him. But marry her? No; the very word surprised him ; he had never even dreamt of it. In the fi'st place (though as yet he hadn't as much as thought about that), he had nothing to marry upon. And in the second place, if he had, could he take a Tyrolese milkmaid fresh from the cowsheds in his tow to London, and present her to his friends as Mrs. Will Deverill ? " Then what the deuce do you mean ? " Florian repeated, persistently. His sound common-sense, when he chose to let it loose from his veneer of affectation, was no mean commodity. Thus driven to bay, Will was forced to reply with a somewhat sheepish air, " I don't know that I ni?an any- thing. I've never tried to formulate my state of mind to myself. She's a very nice girl . . . for her class and sort . . . and I like to talk to her." " And when you talk to her, you like to hold her hand and kan forward like this, and stare with all your eyes, THE MAN OF THE WORLD 71 and look for all the world as if you wanted to devour her! Oh yes; I've seen you. No, no, Will, it won't do; I've been there myself, and I know all about it. Looking at the matter impartially, as a man of the world " — and Flo- rian, drawing himself up, assumed automatically, as those words rolled out, his most magisterial attitude — " what I'm really afraid of is that you'll get gradually dragged into this rustic syren's vortex, and be swallowed up before you know it in the treacherous sea of matrimony. How- ever, you don't believe that, and I know enough of the world to know very well it's no use, therefore, arguing out that aspect of the case with you. No fellow will ever believe he can be such a fool — till he catches himself in church face to face at last with the awful reality. I pre- fer, accordingly, to go on the other tack with you. If you don't mean to marry the girl, then, whether you know it or not, you mean no good to her. I dare say you've got all sorts of conventional notions in your head — which, thank heaven, I don't share — about honor and so forth . . , how a cow-girl's virtue — I beg your pardon, a bou- trophista's, or a neat-herding Phyllis's — is as sacred at your hands as the eldest daughter's of a hundred mar- quises. But that's neither here nor there. If you don't viarry the girl, and you don't ruin the girl, there's only one thing left possible — you must break the girl's heart for her. Between ourselves, being, I flatter myself, a tolerable psychologist, I don't for a moment suppose that's what would actually happen; you'd get yourself entangled and you'd go on and on, and you'd flounder and struggle, and you'd marry her in the end, just to save the girl mis- ery. But we'll do poojah to your intellect at the expense of your heart, and we'll put it the other way, as you seem to prefer it. Very well, then ; sooner or later you'll have to leave this place. No doubt, after what I've seen this morning, it'll cost the girl a wrench — her vanity must be flattered by receiving sc much undisguised attention from a real live gentleman. Bit, sooner or later, as I say, come it must, of course ; and sooner, on the whole, will be bet- ter for her than later. The longer you stop, the more she'll fall in love with you; the quicker you get away from her the less it'll hurt her." He spoke the words of wisdom — according to his kind. M 7* LINNET Will rose again with an effort, and started homeward. As they walked down the pasture, and through the belt of pinewood, he said never a word. But he thought all the more on Florian's counsel. Till that morning, he had never tried to face the question himself : he liked the girl — that was all; she sang like a linnet; and he loved to be near her. But the longer he stopped, the harder for her would be the inevitable breaking off. Just beyond the pinewood Florian halted and fronted him. " See here, Will," he said, kindly, but with the world's common sense, " it isn't that I care twopence myself what becomes of the girl — girls like that are just made for you and me to play skittles with ; if you meant her any harm I wouldn't for the world interfere with any other man's little fancies. All I want is to get you away from the place before you've time to commit yourself. I use the other argument as an argumentum ad hominem only. But as that it has its weight. The longer you stop, the harder it'll be in the end for her." Will drew a deep breath. His mind was made up now. " Very well, then," he said^ slowly, though with an evident struggle; " if I must go, I must go, I won't haggle over a day. Let us make it to-morrow." CHAPTER X HAIL Columbia! And next morning, indeed, saw them safe at Innsbruck. Tvvas a pull to get away ; Will frankly admitted to his own soul he felt it so. But he saw it was right, and he went accordingly. Linnet, he knew, had grown fond of him in those few days ; when he asked her once how it was she liked Franz Lindner less now than formerly, she looked up at him with an arch smile, and, after a second's pause, made the frank avowal : " Perhaps it's because now ... I think Englishmen nicer." At the moment his heart had come up in his mouth with pleasure, as will hap- pen with all of us when a pretty woman lets us see for ourselves she really likes us. But he must go all the same: for Linnet's sake — he must go: if illusion there were, he must at once disillusion her. As for Linnet herself, she accepted the separation much more readily, to say the truth, than Will ever imagined she could. It half-piqued him, indeed, to find how easily she seemed to acquiesce in the inevitable. She trembled when he told her, to be sure, and tears started to her eyes ; but she answered, none tlie less, in a fairly firm voice, that she always knew the gnddige Herr must go away in the end ; that she hoped he would remember her wherever he went ; and she — with a deep sigh — she could never forget his kindness. That, however, was all. Just a pressure of her fingers, just a kiss on his hand, just a tear that dropped wet on his outstretched palm as she bent her head over it in customary obeisance, and Linnet was gone, and he saw no more of her that evening. In the morning when he stood at the door to bid farewell to the household, he fancied her eyes looked red with crying. But she grasped his hand hard, for all that, and said good-by with out flinching. He gave a florin or two as Tr ink geld to each of the servants at the inn; but to Linnet. he felt he couldn't give anything. She was of different mould. Lin- 73 74 LINNET lili net noticed the omission hciself, with a gHstening eye — and took it, as it was meant, for a social distinction. The plain truth was, she had always expected Will must soon go away from her. Nor was she indeed as yet what one might fairly call quite in love with him. The very distance between them seemed to forbid the feeling. He was kind, he was sympathetic, he was musical, he was a gentleman, he divined her better qualities, her deeper feel- ings ; he spoke to her more deferentially and with truer respect than any of her own equals had ever yet spoken to her ; she couldn't help feeling flattered that he should like to come out upon the hillside to talk with her ; but, as yet, she hardly said to herself she loved him. If she had, what good? Was it likely such a great gentleman from over the seas would care to marry a mere Tyrolese milkmaid? Was it likely, if he did, the zvirth and the priest would al- low her to marry a Protestant Englishman ? So, from the very outset, save as a passing afTection, Will Deverill stood wholly outside poor Linnet's horizon. She regarded him as a pleasant but short-lived episode. Besides, light loves are the rule with the alp-girl. It was quite in the nature of things for Linnet that a man should take a liking to her, should pay her brief court, should expect from her far greater favors than ever Will Dever- ill expected, and should give her up in the end for a mere freak of fancy. That was the way of the Zillerthal ! So, though the thorn had gone deep, she accepted her fate as just what one might have anticipated, and hardly cried for an hour in her own bed at night, to think those sweet mornings on the pasture by the pinewood were to be over forever. For of course, in the end, if the zvirth so willed, she must marry herself contentedly to Andreas Haus- berger. Acting on Florian's advice, Will did not even tell his tremulous little friend he was going to Innsbruck. " Bet- ter break it oflf at once," Florian said, with practical com- monsense, " once for all and absolutely. No chance of letters or any nonsense of , that sort — if the dulcinea can v/rite, which of course is doubtful." And Will, having made up his mind to the wrench, acquiesced in this sage council. So for Linnet, the two strangers who had loomed so large, and played so leading a part on the stage HAIL COLUMBIA ! 75 |B of her little life for one rapturous fortnight, vanished ut- terly, as it were, at a single breath, like a dissolving cloud, into the infinite and the unknowable. By seven that night, the young Englishmen found them- selves once more in the full flood of civilization. The electric light shed its beams on their hotel ; a Parisian chef dc cusisine turned out sweetbreads and ices of elaborate art to pamper their palates. Once more, Florian donned with joy the black coat of Bond Street. They had pene- trated the Zillerthal with their knapsacks on their backs; but two leather portmanteaus, enclosing the fuller garb of civilized life, awaited their advent at Innsbruck. Thus restored to society, with a rosebud in his buttonhole, the dainty little man descended radiant to the sallc-a-manger. He welcomed the change ; after three whole weeks of un- adulterated Nature, he had tired of Arcadia. And he loved tablc-d'hote: 'twas a field for the prosecution of social conquests. " A man goes there on his merits," he said briskly to Will, as they dressed for dinner, " neither handicapped nor yet unduly weighted. Nobody knows who he is, and he knows nobody. So he smarts there on the flat, without fear or favor; and if at the end of ten minutes he hasn't managed to make himself the center of a conversational circle, he may retire into private life as a social failure." On this particular evening, however, in spite of several brilliant and manful efforts, Florian didn't somehow suc- ceed in attracting an audience quite so readily as usual. The environment was against him. On his right sat a lady whom he discovered by a side glance at the name written legibly on the napkin ring by her plate, to be the Honorable Mrs. Medway, and who was so profoundly filled with a sense of the importance of her own Honor- ableness that she feared to contaminate herself or her daughter by conversation with her neighbors till she had satisfied her mind by sure and certain warranty that they too belonged to the Right Set in England. Pending proof to that effect, her answers to his questions were both curt and monosyllabic. This nettled Florian, who prided him- self with truth on his extensive knowledge of all the "smart people." To his left, beyond Will, on the other band, s^t a stolid-looking gentleman of nonconformist 76 LINNET exterior and provincial garb, whose conversation, though ample, betray^ed at times the inelegant idiom and accent of the Humber. Him Florian the silver-tongued care- fully avoided. Opposite, was a vacant place, on either side of which sat two young girls of seventeen or there- abouts in the acntest stage of giggling inarticulateness. Florian listened, and despaired. Here was a coterie, in- deed, for a brilliant talker and a man of culture ! But just as they finished the soup, to his intense relief. a ray of light seemed to pierce of a sudden the gathering gloom of the dinner table. The 'drawing-room door opened, and through its portal a Vision of Beauty in an evening dress floated, Hellenic goddess-wise, into the salle-a-manger. It made its way straight to the vacant chair, nodded and smiled recognition to the bread-and- butter gigglers and the Honorable Mrs. Medway, bowed demurely, continental- way, to the newly come strangers, and glided oflf at once, without a pause or break, into a general flow all round of graceful, easy conversation. Florian gazed, and succumbed. This was a real live wo- man! Ripe, but not too ripe, soft and rounded of out- line, with a bewitching moutl., a row of pearly teeth, and a cheek that wore only its own natural roses, she might have impressed at first sight a less susceptible heart by far than ihe epicurean sage's. As she seated herself, she dre^v- from her pocket a little cardboard box, which she handed with a charming smile to one of the giggling inarticulates. " Those are the set you admired, I think," she said, ^vith unconscious grace. " I hope I've got the right ones. I was passing the shop on my way back from my drive, an 1 I thought I'd just drop in and bring them back as you liked them so." The giggling inarticulate gave a jerky little scream of unmixed delight as she opened the box and took out from it with tremulous hands a pretty set of coral necklet, brooch, and earrings. " Not for me! " she cried, gasping; "not fot :ne — for a present! You don't really mean to give them to me ! They're too lovely, too delicious ! " " Yes, I do," the Vision of Beauty responded, beaming. " I wanted to give you some little souvenir some time be- fore you went, and I didn't know what you'd like ; so, as you said you admired these, I thought I'd best go in at HAIL COLUMBIA I m once as I passed and buy them. They're pretty, aren't they?'; Florian eyed them with the lenient glance of a man of taste who appraises and appreciates a beautiful woman's selection. When the bread-and-butter gigglers had ex- hausted upon them their slender stock of laudatory ad- jectives — their oH's and just look's, and dear me, aren't they beautiful's — he broke in v/ith his bland smile, and, laying the necklet in a curve on the white tablecloth be- fore him, began to discourse with much unction in the Florianic tongue, on the aesthetic points of this pretty trifle. For it tvas a prettv necklet, there was no denying that; its lance-like penJ.a'its were delicately shaped and most gracefully arranged ; it was one of those simple half- barbaric designs which retain to our day all the naive beauty of primitive unsophisticated human workmanship. Florian found in it reminiscences of Eve in Eden. And lie said so in that luxuriantly florid style of which he was so gr'^at and so practical a master. He called attention with suave tones to the distinctly precious suggestions of archaic influence in the shaping of the pendants; to the exquisite nature of coral as a decorative object, cast up blushing on our shores by the ungarnered sea — a material whose use we inherit from our innocent ancestors, when wild in woods the noble savage ran, his limbs untram- meled by clinging draperies — when beauty unadorned was adorned the most in the subtle and sinuous curves of its own lissome figure. Necklets and armlets, he ob- served, with one demonstrative white forefinger held poised above the salmon, are the string-courses, so to speak, of this our natural human architecture ; they serve to emphasize and throw out into stronger relief the struc- tural points of the grand design, to call attention to the exquisite native fulness of a faultless torso. The giggling inarticulates dropped their chins and stared. They were not quite sure whether such talk was proper. But the Vision of Beauty, more at home in the world, was not in the le^st alarmed at Florian's torrent of eloquence. On the contrary, she answered him back, as he himself remarked a little later to WiP, b'ke the lords of the council, with grace, wisdom, and undcrstiinding. Florian brightened, and flowed on. He loved a listener ij^t 7« LINNET who could toss the ball back to him as fast as he tossed it. And the Vision of Beauty answered him back with light- ning speed, and bore her share with credit in the conver- sation. It was evident as she went on that she knew her Europe. Was it Munich Florian touched upon with tlie light hand of his craft? — she discoursed of the Van dcr Weydens and Crivellis in the Pinakothek, like one to the manner born, and had views of her own which were bold, if not prudent, about the meaning and arrangement of the Aeginetan marbles. Was it Florence he attacked? — she was at home at San Marco, and knew her way like a Baedeker round the rooms at the Pitti. Will listened and marveled, talking little himself, but giving Florian and the Vision of Beauty their heads. It surprised him much to find one female brain could store in its teeming cells so much miscellaneous knowledge. At last, at a brief break in Florian's flood of speech. Will found space to inquire, for a purpose of his own, " Would you mind mv asking where you got that neck- let?" The Vision of Beauty handed the lid of the box to him. It bore, on a label, the name and address of the jeweler at whose shop she had bought it. " It's on the way up," she said, carelessly, ** to this hotel from the city." That one Shibboleth betrayed her. Florian started in surprise. " Why," he cried with open eyes, " then you must be an American." The beautiful stranger smiled and nodded. " Yes, sir," she said with marked emphasis, as if to clinch the asser- tion of her western nationality. " I am an American, and I don't want to hide it. But you pay what you consider a compliment to the purity of my English all the same, if you mean that till now you haven't even suspected it." Florian made some politely condescending remark, of the sort so obnoxious ti. the late Mr. Lowell, as to the correctness and delicacy of her English accent, and then, in order to show himself quite abreast of the times, in- quired expansively if she knew the Van Rensselaers. " No ; I haven't had that pleasure," the Vision of Beauty answered, curtly. " The Livingstones, perhaps ? " Florian adventured, in tentative tones. illii! HAIL COLUMBIA! 79 The Vision shook her head. " My friends the Vanderbilts ? " Florian essayed once more, eager to find a connecting link. *' I stayed with them at Newport." " No ; nor yet the Vanderbilts," the Vision answered, smiling. Florian paused and reflected. " Ah, then, you're from Boston, no doubt," he suggested, with charitable prompti- tude. The fine frientls he had mentioned, at whose houses he had stopped, were all New Yorkers. " No ; not from Boston," the Vision answered with prompt negation. "Washington, I suppose?" Florian adventured again. They were the only three places a self-respecting American could admit she came from without shipwreck of her dig- nity. He would not pay so nnich grace and eloquence the very bad compliment, as it seemed to him, of supposing it could " register " from St. Louis or New Orleans. The pretty woman smiled once n.ore, a self-restrained smile. " I come from New York," she said, simply. " I've lived there long. It's my native place. But there are a good many of us there who don't aspire to know the Roosevelts or the Livingstone's." Florian withdrew, with quiet tact, from this false de- parture. He led aside the conversation, by graceful de- grees, to the old Dutch families, the New England stock — Emerson, Longfellow, Channing, the Concord set: How- ells, James, and Stedman, the later American poets. On these last he waxed warm. But the Vision of Beauty, herself cosmopolitan to the core, was all for our newest school of English bards. She doted on Lang and Austin Dobson. " And have you seen the last Illustrated f " she asked, after awhile with a burst of enthusiasm. " It's on the table in the salon there. And there are three, oh, such lovely, lovely stanzas in it, — * Among Alps,' by Will Deverili." Her words sent a thrill of pleasure through Will's mod- est soul. He had published but little, and 'twas seldom he heard his own name thus familiarly unhandled. Still, a harassing doubt possessed his soul. Could the Vision of Beauty have seen his name in the visitors' book of the 8o LINNE' !l!li! hotel, noticed the coincidence with the lines in the Illus- trated, which he had sent from the Zillerthal, and maiui^< solute quintessence of old-world quaintness, but which, to Lin- net's young eyes, accustomed only to St. Valentin and the grassy Alps, envisaged themselves rather in glowing hues as the kingdoms of the world and all their glory. They had been late to start, and their drive from Mairhofen had been tolerably leisurely, so dusk was closing in when they arrived at Innsbruck. Oh, the bustle, the din. the whirl- ing awe of that arrival ! Electric lamps lighted up the broad Platz in front of the station ; on either side rose great hotels, grander and more palatial than any buildings on earth Linnet's poor little fancy had ever yet dreamed of. Not to one of these, however, of course, did Andreas Hausberger take his little troupe of minstrels. But even the humlJer inn on the south side of the Theresien Strasse, to which they repaired on foot, bearing their boxes be- tween them, seemed to Linnet's inexperienced and impres- sionable eye a most princely caravanserai. After the noise and bustle in that busy railway junction, which made her %rain whirl with the unaccustomed dizziness of a great city, the comparative rest and quiet of the Golden Eagle seemed a positive relief both of mind and body. That night she slept little. Her head swam with excitement; fo w A a m st a THE MADDING CROWD 93 for this was the first step on her journey through the world, which might lead her perhaps at last to England. And in England, she thought toherselionce or twice with a little thrill, who could tell but peradventure she might meet . . . Will Deverill? For she knew little as yet of how big the world is, and how long you may live in it, going to and fro, without necessarily knocking up against this one or that of its com- ponent units. Next morning they rose betimes, and went out into the street to view the city. For to Linnet, as to Mrs. Palmer, a city it was — and a very great one. Such streets and streets seemed to frighten and appal her. Florian had ad- mired in that picturesque old capital of a mountain land, the antiquated tone, the eighteenth-century flavor, the mediaeval survivals, the air as of a world elsewhere gone from us utterly. But to Linnet, though it was beautiful and impressive too, it was above all things magnificent, grandiose, stately, imposing. She gazed with open eyes at the Golden Roof, admired the bronze statues at the base of the Anna Column, looked up with silent awe at the front of the Landhaus, and thought the Rudolfsbrunnen, with its attendant griffins and dragons, a wonderful work of art for the world's delectation. Philippina went with her, her companion on the alp. Linnet noticed with much surprise — for she knew not as yet the difference in fibre between them — that Philippina, though as interested as herself in the shops and tlieir con- tents, seemed wholly unimpressed by these other and vast- ly more attractive features of a civilized city. For Lin- net had been gifted by nature, to the fullest degree, with the profound Tyrolese artistic susceptibility. Though her mind came to art as a blank page, it responded to the stimulus, once presented to its ken c.s the sensitive plate of a photographic camera responds in every line to the in- spiring picture. As they strolled through the town, by Andreas Haus- berger's express desire — for the wise impresario had ar- ranged their first appearance for that very evening, and wished the girls to come to it fresh, after a morning's exercise — they paid comparatively litde heed to what most of us regard as by far the most striking characteristic of i :; i \ I i t I ; 1 I f I I 94 LINNET II IH M >!ll Innsbruck — the great limestone crags that seem on every side to tower and overhang the very roofs of the city. They were accustomed, indeed, to crags, and made very small case of them. It was the houses, the shops, the noise, the crowd, the gaiety, that chiefly struck them. Innsbruck to Linnet was as a little Paris. But as they went on their way through the bustling streets, they came at last to a church door^ which Linnet's prof' und religious nature could hardly pass by without one mmute'j prayer for Our Lady's aid at this critical turning-point of her artistic history. Philippina, nothing loth, for her part, opined it could do them no harm to make favor above with the blessed saints for this evening's work by a little Pater Noster. The blessed saints dearly love attentions : much may be done with them by a small wax candle! So they opened the door, and stepped into the Hofkirche. Even those of us who know well the world, and its art, can remember vividly the strai.ge start of surprise with which we qi'azed round for the first time on that oddest and most bizarre of Christian temples. It isn't so much beautiful, indeed, as unexpected and startling. To push open the church door and find oneself at once ringed round and guarded close, as it were, by that great circle of mailed knights and bronze-wimpled ladies, who watch the long sleep of the kneeling Maximilian on his cenotaph in the center, gives one a thrill of a novel sort from which some tinge of dim awe can hardly ever be wholly absent. There they stand, on their low pedestals, a congregation of bronze ancestors round their descendant's tomb — Theo- doric the Ostrogoth and King Arthur the Briton, Mary of Burgundy and Eleonora of Portugal — strange eflForts of struggling art in its first faint steps towards the attainment of the beautiful — naif, ungainly, crude, rising only once or twice within measurable distance of the ideal in the few figures cast in metal by Peter Vischer of Nuremberg. But to Linnet, a woman grown, instinct with the innate artistic taste of her countrymen, yet innocent till then of all forms of art save the saints and purgatories of her mountain chapels, the Hofkirche was a glimpse of siv.wc new nnd unseen world of infinite possibilities. She went through it all piecemeal with open-mouthed interest. THE MADDING CROWD 95 Philippina could only laugh at the quaint vizors of the knights, the quainter dresses of the ladies. But Linnet was almost shocked Philippina should laugh at them. She herself half forgot her intended prayer to Our Lady in her delight and surprise at those wonder f ul figures and those beautiful bas-reliefs. She read all the names on the bases conscientiously ; they didn't mean much to her, to be sure — her historical ideas didn't get as far as " Clovis, King of the Franks," or even as " Count Fred- erick of Tyrol with the Empty Pockets " ; but in a vague sort of way she gathered for herself that these were statues of archdukes and mighty heroes, keeping watch and ward silently round the great dead emperor who knelt in the center on his marble sarcophagus. Good luck, too, attended them. The little hump-backed sacristan, seeing two pretty girls looking through the grating at the reliefs on its sides, relaxed his stony heart without the customary kreuzers. and admitted them within the railing to inspect at their leisure those exquisite pictures in marble which Thorwalcijen declared the most perfect work of their kind in the whole of Christendom. Philipp" la found the dresses quite grotesquely old-fashioned ; but Linnet, hard- ly knowing why she lingered so long, gazed at each scene in detail with the profoundest interest. While down in the town Linnet was thus engaged, high up in the hills Will Deverill sat alone by Mrs. Palmer's side on an outcrop of rock near the summit of the Lanser Kopf. Florian had gene off for a minute or two round the corner by the mountain indicator, with the giggling inarticulates. Mrs. Palmer, pointing her moral with the ferrule of her parasol on the grass in front of her, was discoursing to Will earnestly of his work and his pros- pects. " I want to see you do something really great, Mr. Deverill," she said, with genuine fervor, looking deep into his eyes ; " something larger in scale and more worthy of your genius — something that gives full scope to your dramatic element. I don't like to see you frittering away your talents on these exquisite little lyrics — ^beautiful gems in their way, to be sure, but that way not the highest. I want to see you settle down for a long spell of hard work at some big undertaking — ^an epic, a play, a grand opera, a masterpiece. 1 know you could do it if only you took the i i 96 LINNET III !h!i time. You should go to some quiet place where there's nothing to distract you, and make your mind up to work, to write something more 'lasting than even that lovely Gzvyn, or that exquisite Ossian!" Will looked down and sighed. 'Tis pleasant to be ap- preciated by a beautiful woman. And every man thinks, if he had but the chance, he could show the world yet the sort of stuff that's in him. " I only wish I could," he answered, regretfully. " But I've my living to earn. That ties me down still to the treadmill of journalism. When my holiday's over — the first for two years — I must get back once more, well content, to Fleet Street and drudgery." Mrs. Palmer sighed too. She felt his difficulty. Her parasol played more nervously on the grass than before. She answered nothing, but she thought a great deal. How small a matter for her to secure this young poet whom she admired so much, six months of leisure for an immortal work — and yet, how impossible! There was only one way, she knew that very well ; and the first step towards that way must come, not from her, but from this modest Will Deverill. 'Twas a passing thought, half formed, or scarce half formed, in the pretty widow's mind. But nothing came of it. As she paused, and sighed, and played trembling with her parasol, and doubted what to answer him, Florian came up once more with the giggling inarticulates, " Well, Mr. Wood? " she said, looking up, just by way of saying something, for the pause was an awkward one. " Pardon me," the mannikin of culture answered in his impressive way ; " my name is Florian." " But / can't call you so," Mrs. Palmer answered, re- covering herself, with a merry little laugh. " It's usual in Society," ^"lorian responded with truth. " Just ask Will Deverill." Will nodded assent. " Quite true," he admitted. " Men and women alike in London know him only as Florian. It's a sort of privilege he has, an attribute of his own. He's arrogated it to himself, and the world at large acquiesces in his whim, and grants it." " It makes things .seem so much more real c^nd agree- able, you see, as Dick Swiveller said to the marchioness," THE MADDING CROWD 97 in his ed, re- truth. Florian continued blandly. " Now suppose we five form an elective family, a little brotherhood of our own, a free- masonry of culture, and call one another, like brothers and sisters, by our Christian names only! Wouldn't that be delightful! I've just been explaining to Ethel and Eva that I mean henceforth to Ethel and Eva them. Soul gets nearer to soul without these flimsy barriers. I'm Florian ; this is Will ; and you, Mrs. Palmer, your Chris- tian name is ? " The pretty widow drew back with a little look of alarm. " Oh no," she said, shortly ; " I never could tell you my given name for anything. It's much too dreadful." She pulled out a pencil from the pocket at her side. " See here," she said to Will, writing down one word for him on the silver-cased tablets that hung pendant from her deli- cate Oriental chatelaine, " there's a name, if you like, for two Puritan parents to burden the life of their poor in- nocent child with! Don't tell Mr. Wood — or Florian if he wishes it; he'd make fun of it behind my back, I'm perfectly certain. I know his way. To him nothing, not even a woman's name, is sacred." Will glanced at the word curiously. He couldn't for- bear a quiet smile. " It's bad enough, I must admit," he answered, perforce. The Vision of Beauty had been christened Jerusha! " But I make it Rue for short," she added, after a moment, with a deprecating smile. Florian caught at the word, enraptured. " The very thing ! " he cried, eagerly. " Capital, capital, capital ! * There's rue for you, and here's some for me : we may call it herb-o'-grace o' Sundays.' But Rue shall be your weekday name for the Brotherhood. Let's read the roll- call! Florian, Will, Rue, Ethel, Eva! Those are our names henceforth among ourselves. We scorn for- malities! No mystery for us. We abolish the misters!" And so indeed it was. As Will, Rue, and Florian, those three of the Elective House knew each other thereafter. i-, I CHAPTER XIII A FIRST NIGHT *TwAS with no little trepidation that Linnet arrayed her- self that eventful night for her first appearance on this or any other public platform. When her hair was dressed and her costume complete, Philippina declared, with good- humored admiration, she looked just lovely — for Philip- pina at least was never jealous of her. And Philippina was right: Linnet did look beautiful. She had tied her crossed kerchief very low about the neck, so as to leave her throat bare for the better display of Will Deverill's corals. They became her admirably. Andreas Haus- berger inspected his prima donna with well-satisfied eye. The wise impresario had heard, of course, where the neck- let came from ; but that didn't in the least disturb his seren- ity. Will Deverill was gone, evaporated into space; and the coral at least was " good for trade," inasmuch as it enhanced and set off to the utmost the nut-brown alp- girl's almost gipsy-like beauty. For the sake of trade, Andreas could pardon much. And Will Deverill in Eng- land was no serious rival. At eight o'ciock sharp the concert was to begin at one of the big hotels. To the guests in the house it was just a matter of '* some music, I hear, to-night — the usual thing, don't you know — Tyrolese singers with a zither in the salon/' But to Liimet, oh, the difference! It was the most important musical event, the most momentous per- formance in the world's history. She trembled like a child at the thought of standing forth and singing her simple mountain songs alone, in a fine-furnished room, before all those grand well-dressed and well-fed Britons. She would have given thousands (in kreuzers), if only she had them, to forego that ordeal. But Andreas Hans- berger said " You must," and she had to obey him. And the blessed Madonna, in Britannia metal, on an oval pend- ant, gave her courage for the trial. 98 l!!!l{!l A FIRST NIGHT 99 By eight o'clock sharp, then, the tronpe trooped in. Electric light, red velveted chairs, soft carpet on the floor, gilded mirrors by the mantlepiece and opposite console. So much grandeur and magnificence fairly took poor Lin- net's breath away. 'Twas with difficulty she faltered across the open space to a chair by the table which was placed at one end of the room for the use of the perform- ers. Then she raised her eyes timidly — to know the worst. Some twenty-five people, more or less listless all of them, composed the audience. Some leaned back in their chairs and crossed their hands resignedly, as who ex- pects to be bored, and makes up his mind betimes to bear his boredom patiently. Some read the latest Times or the Vienna papers, hardly deigning to look up as the perform- ers entered. 'Twas a lugubrious function ; more chilling reception prima donna never met with. Linnet clutched the blessed Madonna in her pocket convulsively. One breath of mild applause alone reached her ears. " Pretty girl," one stout Briton observed aloud in his own tongue to his plentiful mate. Linnet looked down and blushed, for he was staring straight at her. " Let's sit it out, here," Florian exclaimed in the smok- ing-room. The folding doors stood open, so that all might hear; but their group sat a little apart — Will, Rue, and he — in the farther corner, away from the draught, and out of sight of the musicians. " It's more comfortable so — just the family by itself; and besides, I've a theory of my own that one should hear the zither through an open door; it mitigates and modifies the metallic twang of the instrument." Will and Rue were all acquiescence. Next to a tete-d,- tcte, a parti-d-trois is the pleasantest form of society. So they kept their seats still, in the rocking-chairs by the corner, and let the sound float idly in to them through the open portal. Linnet waited, all trembling. Thank heaven, it wasn't her part to begin. Franz Lindner came first with a solo on the zither. Bold, confident, defiant, with his hat stuck a little on one side of his head, and his feather in his band, turned Robbler-wise, wrong way, quite as jaunty as ever, Franz faced his audience as if his life had been passed in first-class hotels., and an Edison light had been the lamp 100 LINNET I: , ll: cf his childhood. Nothing daunted or disconcerted by the novelty of the circumstances, he played his piece through with a certain reckless brilliancy, wholly in keep- ing with the keynote of the Tyrolese character. Florian observed oufside, with connoisseur complacency, that the fellow had brio. But the audience went on unmoved with its Times and its Tagblatt. The audience was chilling; Franz Lindner, accustomed to his own mercurial and magnetic fellow-countrymen, could hardly understand it. His self-love was mortified. He had expected a triumph, a sudden burst of wild applause; he received instead a faint clap of the hands from Ethel and Eva, and an en- couraging nod from the mercantile gentleman of non- conformist exterior. Franz sat down — a smouldering and seething volcano. Then carne Linnet's turn. She rose, all tremulous, in her pretty costume, with her beautiful face and her shrink- ing timidity. Old gentlemen peeped askance over the edge of their papers at the good-looking girl ; young ladies took stock of her abundant black hair and her dainty ker- chief. *" She's going to sing," Ethel whispered. " Isn't she pretty, Eva? And jrist look, how very odd, she's got a necklet exactly like the ones Mrs. Palmer gave us ! " As they gazed and gurgled, Linnet opened her mouth, and began her song, quivering. She trembled violently, but her very trembling increased the nightingale efifect of those beautiful trills which form so marked a feature in all Tyrolese singing. Her throat rose and fell ; her clear voice flooded the room with bell-like music. At the very first line, the old gentlemen laid their Times contentedly on their laps, and beamed attention through their spec- tacles; the old ladies let the knitting-needles stand idle in their hands, and looked up with parted lips to listen. Andreas Hausberger was delighted. Never in her life had Linnet sung so before. Occasion had brought her out. And he cotild judge of her here more justly than at hom° ; he was quite sure now he had found a treasure. But at tlie very first sound of her well-known voice, Will smarted from his chair. He clapped his hands, fingers 9,3art. to his cheeks in wonder, and stared hard at Florian. Florian in return opened his eyes very wide, leaned back in his seat with a sudden smile of recognition, and stared A FIRST NIGHT lOI hard at Will, with a certain amused indulgence Then m surprise, both with one voice cried out all at once ''That's Linnet!" After that, it was Florian who first broke the forced silence. " I see in this the finger of fate," he murmured slowly. But Will didn't want to see the finger of fate, or any other abstraction; what he wished to see, then and there, was his recovered Linnet. It was thoughtless, per- haps, to disturb her song ; but young blood is thoughtless. Without a moment's hesitation, he walked unobstrusively but hastily into the room in front, and took a seat near the door, just opposite Linnet. Andreas Hausberger didn't notice him, his eyes were firmly fixed on Linnet's face, watching anxiously to see how his pupil would acquit herself in this her first great ordeal. But Linnet — Linnet saw him, and felt from head to foot a great thrill break over her, like a wave of fire, in long undulating movement. The wave rose from her feet and coursed hot through her limbs and body, till it came out as a crimson flush on her neck and chin and forehead ; then it descended once more, thrilling through her as it went, in long undulatii. j move- ment from her neck to her feet again. She felt it as dis- tinctly as she could feel the blessed Madonna clenched hard in her little fist. And she knew now she loved him. Her Englishman was there, whom she thought she had lost ; he had come to hear her sing her first song in public ! Strange to say, the interruption didn't impair her per- formance. For one second she faltered, as her eyes met his; for one second she paused, while the wave coursed through ':er. But almost before. Andreas had time for anxiety, she had recovered at once her full self-possession. Nay, more ; Will's presence seemed actually to encourage her. She sang now with extraordinary force and bril- liancy ; her voice welled from her soul ; her notes wavered on the air as with a sensible quivering. That was all Will knew at the time, or the rest of the audience cither. They were only aware that a beautiful young woman in Tyrolese costume was rendering a moun- tain song for them as they never before in their lives had heard such simple melodies rendered. But to Linnet her- self, a strange thing had happened. As her eyes met Will's, and that wave of fire ran resistlessly through her, f" 102 LINNET she was conscious of a weird sense she had never felt be- fore, a sudden failure of sound, a numb deadening of the music. It was all a vast blank to her. She heard not a note she herself was uttering. Her ears were as if stopped from without and within ; she knew not how she sang, or whether she sang at all ; all she knew was, that, come what might, for Will's dear sake, she must keep on singing. The little access of terror this weird seizure gave her in itself added much to the quality of her performance. Unable to correct herself and keep herself straight in her singing by the evidence of her ears, she devoted extrava- gant and incredible pains in her throat and bosom to the mere muscular effort of note-production and note-modu- lation. She sang her very best — for Will Deverill was there to listen and applaud her! Franz Lindner! Wiio talked of Franz Lindner now? She could pour out her whole soul in one dying swan-song, row she had found once more her dear, kind, lost Englander ! Instinctively, as she sang, her hand toyed with the coral — her left, for with the right she still clasped Our Lady. A grand Frau had crept in just behind Will's back — a smiling, fair-haired Frau, all soft cheeks and dimpled chin, and aglow with diamonds. She had seated hersel5 on a chair by Will DeveriU's side. Herr Florian, too, had crept in at the same time, and taken the next place beside the fair-haired lady. They nodded and smiled anH spoke low to one another. At the sight, Linnet clutched the coral necklace still harder. She was a very great lady — oh, the diamonds in her ears! — and she talked to Will Deverill with familiar carelessness ! And as Linnet clutched the necklet, a shade broke over Rtie Palmer's face. With a quick little gasp, she leaned across to Will, growing paler as she recognized that famil- iar trinket. " Why, this is the girl," she whispered, " from the inn at St. Valentin." And Will whispered back, all unconscious, " Yes ; this is the girl. And now you can see why I sent her the necklet ! *^ Through the rest of that song, there was breathless silence. Al its end, the old gentlemen and ladies, after a short hushed stillness, broke into a sudden little burst of applause. There was a moment's interval, and then the A FIRST NIGHT 103 ir Jcmonstration renewed itself more vigorously than before. People turned to one another and said, " What a beautiful voice ! " or, " She sings divinely ! " By this time the loungers who held aloof in the smoking-room were crowd- ing about thf* doorway. A third time they clapped their hands ; and at each round of applause, Linnet, alternately pale and flushed with excitement, dropped a little moun- tain curtsey, and half cried, and half smiled at them. Her hearing had returned with the first symptom of clap- ping hands ; she could catch the vague murmur of satis- fied criticism; she could catch Andreas Hausberger's voice whispering low in an aside, " Very well sung, Lin- net." But her eyes were fixed on Will, and on Will alone ; and when Will framed his lips to one word of approba- tion, the hot blood rushed to her cheeks in a torrent of delight that at last she had justified her Englander's praises. Linnet was the heroine of that evening's performance. Andreas Hausberger sang " He was a jager bold " • Philippina, looking arch, twanged the thankless zither. But the audience waited cold till 'twas Linnet's turn again. Then, as she rose, they signified their approval once more by another little storm of applause and encouragement. Linnet curtsied, and curtsied, arid curtsied again, and stared straight at Will Deverill. This second time she sang in less fear and trembling; she could hear her own notes now, and Will's face encouraged her. She acquitted herself, on the whole, even better than before. Her rich pure voice, though comparatively untrained, exhibited it- self at its best in that pathetic little ballad of her native hills, " The Alp-girl's Lover." She sang it most dramati- cally, with one hand pressed hard on her heaving bosom. At the end, the audience clapped till Linnet was covered with blushes. A mere scratch performance before some casual tourists in the drawing-room of an hotel ; but to Linnet, it came home as appreciation and praise from the grandest of gentlefolk. She sang three songs in all. Her hearers would gladly have made it six ; but Andreas Hausberger knew his trade, and stuck firm to his programme. When all was finished, the foreign Herrschaft crowded round; Herr Florian shook Linnet's hand ; Herr Will pressed it tenderly. The 104 LINNET grand lady with the diamonds was graciousness itself. " With a voice like that,* my child," she said, " you shouldn't be singing here ; you should be training for the stage in some great musical center." Many of the other guests, too, gathered round and congratulated her. It was noised abroad in the room that this was the pretty peasant girl's absolute debut, and that Mr. Deverill and Mr. Wood had met her as a sennerin at an inn in the Zillerthal. More voices than one praised her voice en- thusiastically. But Will Deverill whispered low, " You have done yourself justice. As I told you at St. Valen- tin, so I tell you again — Heaven only knows how high that voice may carry you." One thing Linnet noticed for herself, unprompted. That first appearance in operatic peasant dress as a musician in a troupe, had raised her at a bound in the scale of social precedence. At St. Valentin, she was an alp- girl ; at Innsbruck, all those fine-dressed ladies and gentle- men accepted her at first sight as a public singer. They spoke to her with a politeness to which she was hitherto unused ; they bent forward towards her with a quiet sort of deference and equality which she felt instinctively the very same persons would never have shown to the sen- nerin in her chalet. Their curiosity was less frank ; their questions were less blunt and better put than she was used to. It was partly the costume, no doubt, but partly also the function: she was a peasant girl in the Zillerthal; at Innsbruck she was a member of the musical profession. She had only a second or two with Will that night. While the other guests crowded round her, uttering their compliments for the most part in rather doubtful German, which Linnet answered (by Andreas Hausberger's wise advice) in her pretty broken English, Will dropped but a few words of praise and congratulation. After all was over, however, and they were going away for the night to the Golden Eagle, he stood at the door, bare-headed, his hat in his hand, to say good-by to her. Andreas Hausberger's keen eye Vvatched their interview close. Will held Linnet's hand— that transfigured Linnet's, in her snow-white sleeves and her corset-laced bodice — held it lingering in his own with a mutual pressure, as he mur- A FIRST NIGHT 105 mured, not too low for Andreas to overhear ('twas wisest so), " I'm pleased to see you wore my necklet." And Linnet, half-afraid how she should answer him aright, with Andreas standing by and straining his ear for every word, replied in German, with a timid smile, raising her eyes to his shyly, '* I'm so glad you were pleased. I wanted to wear it. It's a beautiful present. Thank you so very much for it." That was all. She had no more talk than just that with her Englander. But she went back to the Golden Eagle, and lay awake all night thinking of him. Of him, and of the fair-haired Frau who sat smiling by his side. That fair-haired Frau gave Linnet some pangs of pain. Not that she was jealous ; that ugliest of all the demons the t beset human nature had no place, thank Heaven, in Lin- net's great heart. But she thought to herself with a sigh how much fitter for Will was that grand fair Frau than ever she herself could be. How could she expect him to make anything of her, when he could sit and talk all day long in great covered courts with grand ladies like that, his natural equals? He could think, after the Frau. no more of her, than she, after him, could think of Franz Lindner. And yet — and at that thought the billowy wave of fire broke over her once more from head to foot — he had left the grand lady in the room outside to come in and hear her song the moment he recognized her ! In the salon that same evening, when Linnet was gone, Rue stood talking for a minute by the fireside to Will Deverill. " She sings like an angel," the pretty Ameri- can said, with unaffected admiration of the peasant girl's gifts. " What a glorious voice. Florian's quite right. It's a pity she doesn't get it properly trained at once. It's fit for anything." " So I think," Will answered, looking her frankly in the face. " She needs teaching, of course — the very best teaching. But if only she gets it, I see no reason to doubt she might do what she likes with it." " And she's beautiful, too," Rue went on, without one marring touch of any feminine but. " How queenly she'd look as a Mary Stuart or a Cleopatra ! Your necklet suits htr well." She paused, and reflected a second. " It's a io6 LINNET pity," she went on, musingly, as if half to herself, " she shouldn't have the brooch and the earrings to match it ! " And next day, sure enough, at the Golden Eagle, about one o'clock, when Linnet went up to her own room after early dinner, she found on her dressing-table a small card- board box containing some coral ornaments to go with the necklet, and this little inscription in a feminine hand inside it : — " For Linnet, from one who admireu last night her beautiful singing." Then Linnet knew at least that the fr.ir-haired lady too had a great heart, and owed her no grudge for the posses- sion of Will Deverill's necklet. For she divined by pure instinct what admirer had sent them. CHAPTER XIV AND IF FOREVER " It's no use wasting words," Florian observed, with de- cision. " As our old friend Homer justly remarks, ' Great is the power of words ; wing'd words may make this way or that way.' I'm a practical man myself: I stick close to the facts; they're solid; they're tangible; they're not to be evaded. I won't allow myself to be argued out of a reasonable conviction. I put it like this: if it was right for you, as you admitted, to leave St. Valentin, then, by parity of reasoning, it's right for you now to leave Inns- bruck instantly. Mill, Whately, and Jevons would allow that that's logic. Why did we come here? Partly, no doubt, to instruct ourselves in the contents of this most interesting town; but mainly, I submit, to deliver you forthwith from your milkmaid's clutches. Why should we go away again? Partly because we've seen all that Innsbruck contains of historical or artistic; but largely, also, because the milkmaid insists upon pursuing us through the land and jingling her bells till she compels us to listen to her." " She didn't know we were here," Will interjected, brfstling up. " She didn't know we were here, that's true ; but she's followed us all the same, cow-bells and pails and all, and we must break away at once from her. I've said so to Rue, and Rue fully agrees with me. As I told you be- fore, if you mean the girl harm, — well and good ; I don't meddle with you. But if you mean to go on shilly-shally- ing like this, — saying good-by for ever — and sending her coral necklets ; meeting her again at hotels — and applaud- ing her rapturously ; saying good-by once more — and let- ting it run, for aught I know to the contrary, to diamonds and rubies — why, what I say is this, I've seen the same thing tried on more than once before, and my experience 107 io8 LINNET m : I is, the man who begins by, meaning only to flirt with a girl, sinks down, down, down, by gradual degrees, till at last he loses every relic of self respect — and ends by marrying her ! " Will fingered his under lip, and knit his brow reflective- ly. " At least," he said, " I must see her and tell her I'm going away again." Stern justice once more embodied itself as Florian. " Certainly not" the little man answered, with an em- phatic shake of the head. " If you say good-by, she'll want to know where you're going. If she knows where you're going, she'll want, of course, to follow you. If you don't mean her harm, then, hang it all, my dear fellow, you must mean her good — which is far more dangerous. There are only two possible motifs in such an affair — ou le hon, ou le maiivais. You must mean the first, if you don't mean the second. I've talked it over with Rue, and Rue entirely supports me. For the poor girl's own sake, she says, it's your duty at once to run away from the spot, post haste, and leave her." A little later in the day, on the slopes behind Muhlan, Will thrashed it out himself, tete-d-tcte with Rue, seated close by her side on the grassy upland. " She's in love with you, poor thing," Rue said very seriously. " You mayn't see it yourself ; sometimes, you know, Mr. Deverill — I can't always say Will; it seems so forward — some- times, you know, you men — even the best of you — are unkind to us poor women through pure excess of modesty. You don't realize how much a girl may really think of you. Your very want of self-conceit may make you blind to her feelings. But consider what you must seem to a child like Linnet. You're a gentleman, a poet, a man of the great world, wholly removed from her sphere in knowledge, position, culture. She looks up to you, vaguely and dimly no doubt, with a shrinking respect, as some one very grand and great and solemn. But your attentions flatter her. Florian has told me all about how you met her at St. Valentin. Now, even a lady," and Rue looked down as she spoke, and half stifled a sigh, " even a lady might be pleased at attracting the notice of such a man as you ; how much more then a peasant girl ! I watched her close last night when you first came into AND IF FOREVER 109 the room, and I saw such a red flush break over her throat and cheeks, Hke a wave surging upwards, as I never saw before on any woman's face — though long ago . . . my- self . . . when 1 was very young ... 1 think I may have felt it. And I knew what it meant at once; I said to myself as I looked, * That girl loves Mr. Deverill.' " " I think she's fond of me/' Will admitted modestly. " I didn't notice it so much myself, I confess, at St. Valentin ; but last night, I won't deny I watched her hard, and I could see she was really very nleased to meet me." Rue looked grave. " Mr. Deverill," she said in a serious voice, " a woman's heart is not a thing to trifle with — I'm an old married woman myself, you see, and I can speak to you plainly. You may think very little your- self — for I know you're not conceited — of the eflfect you're likely to produce on women. I've known cruel things done, before now, by very good men, just because they never realized how much store women set on their passing attentions. You've only to look at Linnet to see she has a deeply passionate nature. Now, I beg of you, don't play fast and loose with it any longer If you don't mean anything, don't see her again. The more you see of her, the worse it will be for her." Will listened, and ruminated. Rue's words had more effect on him by far than Florian's. For one thing, she was a woman, and she treated the matter earnestly, where Florian only treated it with the condescending flippancy of his native clubland. To Rue, in her true womanliness, an alp-girl's heart was still a sacred object; to Florian, 'twas a toy for the superior creature, man, as he said, " to play skittles with." But then, again. Florian had dwelt much to him on the chance of his finally marrying Linnet. To Will himself, that contingency seemed too remote to contemplate.. As he sat by Rue's side on the grassy up- land, and heard Rue speak so gently to him in her well- turned sentences, the distance between a refined and edu- cated lady like that and a musical alp-girl appeared to his mind too profound to be bridged over. Was it likely, in a world which held such women as Rue, he ever could marry such a girl as I innet ? Now, Rue herself never spoke of marriage between Linnet and himself as even possible. She took it for granted the end must be either i J no tINNET Linnet's ruin or Linnet's desertion. And all she urged him was not to break the poor child's heart for her. So, where Florian's worldly wisdom fell somewhat flat on his ears, Rue's feminine sympathy and tact produced a deep eflfect upon him. " It'll make her very sad, I'm afraid, if she doesn't see me again," he said, looking down, with masculine shyness. " I know it will," Rue answered, pushing her point with advantage. " I could see that last night. But all the more reason, then, you shouldn't let it go any further." " Well, but must I never see her again ? " Will inquired with an anxious air. For his own sake, even, that counsel of perfection was a very hard saying. Rue's face grew still graver. " No ; I think you must never see her again," she answered, seriously. " Remem- ber what it involves. Remember what she is; how daz- zled she must be by a gentleman's advances. The more you see of her, the more she'll think of it — the more she'll love you, confide in you, lean on you. That's only womanly. We all of us do it . . . with a man we admire and feel greater and better than us. And you and she, after all, are both of you human. Some day, perhaps, carried away by a moment of emotion — " She broke oflf quite suddenly, and let her silence say the rest. " And then," she went on, after a long pause, " when all's lost and all's done, you'll be sorry, poor child, you've spoilt and wrecked her whole life for her. . . ." She paused again, and grew crimson. " Mr. Deverill — Will — " she said, faltering, ** I wouldn't speak to you like this if I didn't feel I was doing it to save this poor child in the end from untold misery. It's not only the material con- sequences I'm thinking of now (though those are bad enough), but the girl's own heart — for I can see she has got one. If you don't go away, sooner or later you'll break it. What other end can there be to an affair like this between a poet like you and a Tyrolese peasant girl?" What other end, indeed ! Will knew it, and felt it. He saw she was right. And her words thrilled through him. When a beautiful woman discusses your personal affec- tions in such a strain as this it isn't in human nature (.in its male embodiment) not to tingle through and through AND IF FOREVER III in pure instinctive response with her. While Rue spoke like that, Will felt he must indeed see no more of Linnet. " But where must I go? " he asked, vaguely, just to dis- tract the talk from his own potential misdeeds. Their original idea was Cortina and the Dolomites. The innocent question fell in pat with Rue's plans. Already that morning she had talked it over with Florian ; and Florian, for the furtherance of his own designs, had agreed it would be best for them to alter their route, as things stood, in favor of a new project which Rue sug- gested. She was going to Meran herself, for a month or six weeks of bright autumn weather, on her way down to Italy. Why shouldn't they come there, too, she asked, and keep the family together? Florian, not unmindful of her seven hundred thousand pounds, admitted at once the cogency of her reasoning. It would be quite delight- ful, he said — in point of fact, consummate. But would Will consent to it? Then Rue expounded to him her views about Will and his future in life — how he ought to retire to the wilderness for forty days, after the manner of the prophets, to meditate, and, if possible, to begin some great work, which should bring in the end name and fame and honor to him. Florian admitted, just to humor her, that if Will had the chance, and chose to buckle to, he might really produce something quite worth looking at. " Persuade him to it," he said, in his mellifl- uous tones. " To you. Rue, it comes so easy, you see, to be persuasive. On. word from your lips is worth fifty from mine. Make him stop away for three months from that dear, delightful, distracting London, and begin some big thing that the world must listen to." To inspire a great work is a mission in life for a wo- man — to be some Petrarch's Laura, some Dante's Beatrice. So, when Will asked plaintively, " Where must I go?" that afternoon, Rue answei'ed with prompt de- cision, " Why, of course, to Meran. I'm going there myself. You must come with us and stop there." "What for?" Will inquired, not wholly untouched in soul — for proximity counts for much, and they were sit- ting close together — that the pretty American should so desire his company. Then Rue began to explain, to persuade, to reason. 112 LINNET And reason from those lips was profoundly conclusive. No syllogism, on earth could have failed to convince from them. Meran was the prettiest place in South Tyrol, siie said; the pleasantest climate for the autumn months, the loveliest scenery. The sun always shone, and the birds always sang there. Though it froze underfoot, you could bask on the hill-tops. But that wasn't all; — and she leaned forward confidentially — she wanted to speak to him again about the subject she had broached the other day on the Lanser Kopf. When a pretty woman interests herself in your private concerns, she's always charming; when she pays you the delicate flattery of stimulating you to use " your own highest powers " — that's the proper phrase — she's quite irresistible. So Will Deverill found Rue. Why, she asked, should he go back so soon to Lon- don? This devotion to mere journalism was penny-wise and pound-foolish. Could he afford to stay away for six weeks at Meran — just barely afford it — and settle himself down at a quiet hotel to some really big work that would make him famous ? Will, drawing a deep breath, and looking wistfully into her eyes^ admitted his funds in hand would permit him, with care, such a hard-working holiday. Then Rue pressed him close. She brought ghee to his vanity. She was convinced if he stopped in this keen mountain air, among these glorious Alps, fresh inspired from Nature, he could turn out a poem, a play, a ro- mance, some great thing of its kind, that the world must listen to. He had it in him, she felt sure, to make his name famous. Nothing venture, nothing have. If he didn't believe in himself enough to risk six weeks of his precious time on the effort to sketch out something really worthy of him, then all she could say was — and she flood- ed him as she spoke with the light of her lustrous eyes — he believed in himself far less — oh so far, far less — than his friends believed in him. Florian had told her Will held no regular staff-appointment on any London paper; he was an occasional journalist, unattached, earning a precarius livelihood, in fear and trembling, by reviews and poems and descriptive articles in half-a-dozen as- sorted dailies and weeklies. Why shouldn't he give them AND IF FOREVER "3 up for awhile, then, and play boldly and manfully for some larger stake, some stake such as she knew he could well attain to ? And she quoted Queen Elizabeth— or was it Walter Raleigh?— " He either fears his fate too much, Or his desert is small, Who will not put it to the touch To lose, or win it all." a ro- mitst ii6 LINNET a good bit, coisidering all things, the other evening. I think she draws; I noticed old gentlemen slipped their florins under their palms into the plate unobstrusively. Besides, in a Kurort, she'll soon get talked about. People at one hotel or pension will speak of us at another — * Seen this Tyrolese troupe going about in the place? Pretty girl; sings sweetly.' I take it there can't be less than thirty houses in Meran where we could get an audience. That carries us well on to the end of November. By that time, San Remo and Bordighera'll be filling up fast, and from there we can go on to Cannes, Nice, Mentone." So three days later saw them safe at Meran. To Lin- net, that journey from north to south, across the great ridge of the Alps, seemed like transplantation into an earthly fairyland, She had never seen the luscious wealth of vineclad lands before ; for North and South Tyrol are two different countries, one cold, bleak, Germanic, the other soft, warm, Italian. Meran itself appeared to her ardent imagination more beautiful than anything eye hath seen or mind conceived of. And, indeed, it is beautiful. Whoever knows it loves it. A b'-awling little mountain stream, the Passer, rushes headlong from the glaciers of the Otzthaler Alps through a wild upland glen, to join in due time the broader stream of the Adige, which 'threads the bleak Vintschgau on its precipitous course from the lofty snow-fields of the Ortler and the Wild-Spitze. Near the point where the two unite, on a long tongue of land, the little town of Meran nestles close among its vines, under shelter of the rounded ice-worn Kiichelberg. It clings with its ancient walls, its steeples, its watch-towers, as if glued to the lower slopes of the basking mountain. Linnet gazed at it, delighted. For here, on the south side of the Alps, looking down the broad valley to sunny Italy, the vegetation differed greatly, both in richness and in character, from anything she had ever seen in her na- tive Zillerthal. Indeed, even Italy itself, parched as it often is with excessive heat, seldom shows such wild luxu- riance of foliage and fruit as these green and well-wa- tered South Tyrolese valleys. There is a bowery, flowery lavishness and lushness about it all that defies description. The vines that trail loose across their trellised archways; the gourds that hang pendent from their wooden frails; A CRITICAL EVENING "7 the great yellow pumpkins that lean temptingly over every terraced wall ; the lizards that bask blinking on the sun-smitten rock-face; the crimson sprays of Virginia creeper that droop in festoons from the brown verandah wood-work of coquetish chalets, mingled with the pine- clad slopes and bare snow-sprinkled peaks of the upper background, make a charmmg hybrid between Switzer- land and Lombardy. Imagine for yourself an ancient German town, with moldering walls and high turrets, like Boppard or Andernach, and crenellated castles of quaint mediaeval architecture, but with arcaded streets and Italian loggias, plumped down incongruously in the midst of this half-Alpine, half-southern scenery, and you get a very fair bird's-eye view indeed, in its way, of the main traits of Meran. On the very first morning of her arrival in the town, Linnet took her way out with Franz Lindner and Philip- pina along the brawling stream that forms the center and rallying point of the gay little watering-place. Meran is all parade, winter-garden, and band, and they walked through its midst to see and be seen of the lounging Herr- schaft. They were dressed in full costume; 'twas a form of advertisement Andreas greatly believed in. Franz held himself erect, with his feather still stuck Rob- bler-wise, and his defiant air, as he strode through the crowd that lined the promenade — the gayest, most varied, and most fashionable throng Linnet had ever set eyes on. He and Philippina stared hard at the world that displayed itself before them. German Jews from Frankfort, great Viennese bankers, the round-faced, engaging Bavarian frauleins, the tall and tailor-made English lawn-tennis misses. Linnet gazed at them, too, but/:ast her eyes now and then from the people and the shops to the great cleft mountain peaks that soared everywhere high and clear- cut into the sky above them. In the lower part of their walk the river was smooth, and the roadway was bordered by fantastic pensions and quaint Tyrolese buildings ; but in the upper part, which they reached beyond a single bold arch of stone-work that spanned the Passer, precipitous rocks began to hem it in, the river assumed the guise of a foaming torrent, and the ruined fortress of the Zenoburg, with its Romanesque i I ii8 LINNET Ml portal, frowned down from high above them on a water- worn gorge where the stream forced its way in a dashing cataract. A little platform overhangs the very edge of the cascade. Linnet stood there long, leaning over the iron rail, and gazing with delight at the white foam be- neath, and the placid deep green of the calm rock-basin that received the mountain stream as it leapt from the precipice. Franz and Philippina wouldn't let her remain there, however. With the restlessness of their kind, they were eager to explore this new world more fully. They strolled through the town, and up the hills behind, where all seemed fresh and southern and romantic to Linnet. Through green alleys of vines, trained like bowers Over their heads, they mounted at last by a cloven ravine to the chestnut-covered slopes, where they looked down like a map on the vast garden of the Etschthal. It was a won- derful view. Linnet drank it in eagerly. In front crouched the town with its huddling red roofs wedged in between the hill and the scurrying river ; beyond lay a wide plain of such luxuriant tilth as Linnet till then had never dreamt of. Villages and churches clustered thick by the dozen on slope and hill-top ; but what added the last touch of charm to the strange scene in Linnet's eyes was the ex- traordinary number and variety of its feudal chateaux. Every height was crowned by its castellated Schloss, ivy- clad Planta, huge sun-smitten Labers, the terraced front of Rametz, the frowning bastions of Fragsburg; Franz Lindner, with his keen eyes, could count no less than forty-three of them. The exhilaration of the fresh scene, and of the southern trees and creepers, so different from the stunted pines, of their own chilly Zillerthal, filled Lin- net with a certain vague and indefinable delight : had but her Englander been there, she would have been perfectly happy. Andreas Hausberger had taken charge of the health of his troupe, in strict accordance with his own favorite theories. The two girls were to walk on the hills for three hours every morning. They were to dine thus and thus. They were to do or avoid this, that, or the other thing. He himself had gone off meanwhile to one of the smaller hotels to make arrangements beforehand for that eve- A CRITIC/ L EVENING 119 , ivy- front Franz than scene, from [Lin- d but fectly thof orite three thus, hing. laller eve- ning's concert. One of the smaller hotels, bien entendu, for Andreas knew well the money value of mere gossip as a means of advertisement. Not till he had seen what im- pression Linnet made on the public of the lesser houses would he launch her on the Meranhof or the Erzherzog Johann. That ensured him the full benefit of the talk of the town. A shrewd man, Andreas Hausbergeri By the time he reached those larger and richer houses in his nightly rounds, he didn't doubt the world of Meran would have heard and tattled much of his new-found singer; people would say to one another, " Don't miss the Tyro- lese troupe that's coming to us to-night ; they say there's one girl in it worth seeing and hearing." For Andreas was above all things a man of the world ; he never threw away the chance of earning an extra gulden. That evening, in due course, their concert came off at the Austria at Obermais. You know the Austria? — a small but select and aristocratic pension, much affected by the Von So-and-so's of Berlin and \ienna. The result (in net cash) surpassed the prudent Andreas's highest expectations. Though no Will Deverill was there to in- spire her efforts, Linnet sang divinely. Indeed, to say the truth, though she had met him and lost him once more ^l Innsbruck, that meeting and losing, instead of dashing her hopes to the ground, as Rue and Florian expected, had only produced on her simple little mind a general impres- sion that now, by the blessed Madonna's aid, her Eng- lander might turn up any day, anywhere. In that inno- cent hope, born of the age of faith, she sang her best with a will, and charmed her audience, looking hard at the door all the while, to see if, peradventure, her Englander would en^er. And when no Englander came., she comforted her soul with the thought that Andreas had said there were twenty-nine other hotels in Meran and Obermais — at any one of which, no doubt, that dear friend might be stop- ping. Her heart wasn't crushed — not the least bit of it — and her trust in the blessed Madonna on the Brittannia metal pendant that hung round her neck was as vivid and as childishly unquestioning as ever. Our Dear Frau had brought her her lover at Innsbruck ; Our Dear Frau could bring him her just as well at Meran here. She sang three times. Each time the audience ap- 120 LINNET Is/a • plauded vociferously. The Austria, you see, is mainly frequented by Germans. Now, your German is musical ; he has little reserve; he loves a good noise; and he's never afraid of displaying his feelings. Moreover, the little party in the salon that night was largely composed of Viennese or Bavarians; they understood the zither and the Tyrolese songs; they were to the manner born, good judges of execution. Franz Lindner's feather curled once more, quite as perkily as ever, when they applauded the bravado of his facile playing. Philippina smiled znd bobbed, a wicked twinkle in her eye, when they cried " Bis ! " to the loudest and sauciest of her jodels. But at each of Linnet's songs, her hearers grew silent, then burst as she ceased into uproarious approbation. She was the heroine of the night, the black swan of the party; not often had they heard such a voice as hers at so humble a performance. When all was finished, 'twas Linnet's task to hand round the plate and make the little collection. She hated the work, but 'tis always imposed, and with sound com- mercial reason, on the prettiest girl of the troupe, so it naturally devolved upon Linnet to perform it. Even good-humored Philippina admitted without dispute her claim to the function. Hot in the face, and ill at ease, Linnet walked round the room in a maze of confusion, with her little silver salver. She offered it first to the rich Jew banker from Frankfort-on-the-Main, with the dia- mond pin, and the seals on his watch-chain. Now, your pretty face is a mighty opener of your purse-strings. The rich Jew banker, holding out one fat thumb and forefinger gingerly, afttr a second's hesitation (for 'tis hard to part with so much money at once) dropped a ten-florin piece in good Austrian gold, plump into the middle of the silver salver. It fell with a ring. His example was contagious. Christian Freiherrs could not stand being beaten in their appreciation of vocal art by Jewish financiers from Frank- fort. People who meant to give one florin now gave two ; people who meant to put off on their wives the duty of dispensing the family bounty now drew out their purses and became their own almoners. Linnet had never seen a gold piece in her life before; when she finished her r( A CRITICAL EVENING 121 round, bowing low, that night, there were three ot them on the salver. Andreas Hausberger eyed the plate with a carefully- suppressed smile of subdued satisfaction. His mouth never moved; only the corners of his eyes betrayed his emotion. But that evening's haul had far-reaching con- sequences — for him and for Linnet. He saw in a mo- ment he had found indeed, as he thought, a treasure. He didn't need the assurances of the rich Jew banker, and the lady amateur with the tortoise-shell eyeglasses who came from Berlin, that Linnet should be placed at once for in- struction in a proper conservatorium. He saw for him- self, from the effect she produced on the audience that night, she would yet do wonders. As Linnet left the Austria, Andreas held her cloak for her. But it wasn't mere gallantry. " Wrap your throat round well. Lin- net," he said, with much zealous care. " For Heaven's sake don't take cold. The air on the hills in the daytime won't hurt you ; but after sitting in these crowded, over- heated rooms, the night fogs are so bad for you." The goose that lays the golden eggs deserves to be well tended. her CHAPTER XVI SCHLOSS TYROL " Where shall we go to-day ? " Will inquired next morn- ing, as they sipped their early coffee at the Erzherzog Johann. He was already hard at work on his projected operetta, but 'twas a fad of his to compose in the open air ; he went out for a long stroll every morning with Florian, and sat on the hill-sides, jotting his thoughts down with a pencil, exactly as they occurred, face to face with Na- ture. " Rue won't meet us to-day, she says," his friend an- swered with a yawn. " Her nerves are tired after her walk of yesterday. So, for my part, I vote we go and see Schloss Tyrol. It inspires me, that place," Florian went on, warming up — for he had been reading his guide-book. " It has the interest of a germ, a nucleus, a growing point. I like to think that here we stand before the embryo of a State — the very heart and core of the evolving Tyrol. We watch its development, so to speak, from its central cell. It's the evolution of law, or order, of authority. The rob- ber chiefs of that high stronghold perched aloft on the hills " — and Florian extended one small white hand, as was his wont when he perorated — " are the center round which clusters by successive degrees the whole Tyrolese and Austrian history. I see them pushing their power in concentric rings from their eagle's eyrie on the crags above the valley of the Adige. to Botzen and the Brenner, the basin of the Inn, the Bavarian March, the entire Eastern Alps, from the Engadine to the Dolomites. Their Schloss there is the original and only genuine Tvrol. By successful robbery, which is the basis of all the divine rights of governments, they become the masters and lords of a mighty province ; they dictate peace and justice to obedient villagers ; they stand out in course of time as an earthly providence. But what were they at first? 122 SCHLOSS TYROL 123 Why, a den of thieves ! There you have the whole evo- lution of morality in a nutshell — the rule of the strong, established and maintained by continued aggression. So I will see Schloss Tyrol ; I will be a pilgrim at the shrine ; I will refresh myself at the fount of law and order as it exists and envisages itself for these innocent mountains." " It's an interesting place," Will replied, taking no no- tice of Florian's gush, " and it's well worth visiting. I've seen it before. I'll sit on the rocks outside and write, while you go in and look at it." So after breakfast they started up the narrow old road, paved in places with cobble-stones, and overarched in its lower slopes by graceful festoons of trellised vines, that leads from Meran along a shoulder of the hills to the earliest home of the counts of Tyrol. 'Twas a true South Tyrolese November morning. It froze hard through the night, and the ice still lay thick on the pools by the way- side ; but in that keen, crisp air, and with that cloudless sky, the sun overhead blazed as warm as summer. Up the Passer valley to their right, as they mounted, the vil- lages and churches on the slopes of the Ifinger stood out in dazzling white against their dark green background. The little mountain path, bordered as usual by countless petty crucifixes and whitewashed shrines, wound in con- tinuous zig-zags up the face of the Kiichelberg, a wedge of rounded rock that overlooks the town, draped with vineyards on its sides, and worn smooth on its summits by the titanic ice mills of the glacial epoch. The chapels in particular excited Florian's interest. " There's more religion to the square mile in the Tyrol," he said, " than in any other country I ever visited ! " They rose by slow degrees till they reached the long hog's back which separated the wild Passer glen from the wider and more luxuriant Adige valley. Florian stood still to gaze. T:er upon tier of vines, in endless galleries, roofed the southern slope as with one leafy arbor; the long shoulder itself on whose top they now stood was green with pastures, and watered by plashing artificial leats which had worn themselves deep beds like natural streamlets. The music of falling water accompanied them all the wav; the cow-bells tinkled pleasantly from the fields on either hand ; and the views, as they walked alongf 124 LINNET the crest of the ridge, looking down into the two valleys with their villages and klosters, their castles and towers, seemed infinite in the variety of their beauty and interest. Above soared the bare peaks of the Muthspitze and the Tschigatspitze ; to the east rose the fissured summits of the cloven Dolomites; the white mass of the Lanser Ferner closed the glen to westward. After nearly an hour's walk, as they approached the little village of Dorf Tyrol on the hill-top, they passed a huddled heap of wayside boulders, over whose ledge the stream that had accompanied them so far on their road tumbled from a small sluice in a bickering cataract. Two girls were seated on the brink of the torrent with their backs turned towards them. As the young men ap- proached, one of the girls looked round, and gave a start of surprise. " Why, Linnet," she cried in German, " here he is again ! — your Englander ! " Linnet turned, with a crimson flush on her nut-brown face, to think that Philippina should speak so openly of Will, as of some one that belonged to her. But her cheek, to say the truth, was hardly redder than Will's own, as he heard himself so described by the laughing sennerin as Linnet's Englander. He couldn't conceal from him- self, however, the fact that he was glad to meet Linnet under whatever circumstances. With a wondering heart, he went up and took her hand. " Why, when did you come here ? " he asked, all astonished. " The day before yesterday," Linnet answered, ting- ling. " And she sang last night at the Austria," Philippina put in, with her good-humored smile, " and made a great success, too, I can tell you that; and took, oh, ever and ever so much money. Herr Andreas is so pleased. He goes chuckling to himself. I think he thinks Linnet will make his fortune." " And how long do you stop here ? " Will inquired, half-anxiously, half-eagerly. " About a month," Linnet answered, looking deep into his eyes, and keeping down the rising tears as well as she could in her own. " And you, Herr Will ? how long do you mean to remain here ? " "A month or six weeks," Will replied with a thrill. SCHLOSS TYROL 125 ting- into she rdo Then he added, gazing hard at her, in spite of Florian, " so I hope we may still have many chances of meeting? " Florian flung his fragile form at full length on the heap of stones by their side, and began to laugh unrestrained- ly. " Well, it's no use fighting against fate," he cried, looking up at the blushing pair, with philosophic indul- gence for the errors and foibles of youth and beauty and the poetic temperament. " You must go your own way, I suppose. I retire from the contest. I've done my very best, dear boy, to preserve you from yourself; but the stars in their courses seem to fight against Sisera." He extended both his small hands with paternal unction. " Bless you, my children," he cried, theatrically. " Be happy. Be happy." "Which way are you walking?" Will asked in Ger- man, to cover his confusion. " Well, we are going towards the Schloss," Philippina replied, smiling. " But the climb's rather stiff, so we sat down for awhile by these stones, just to rest on the hill-top." " The finger of fate again ! " Florian cried, much amused, raising his hands deprecatingly. " Well, Will, there's no help for it; I see they must go with us. It's useless trying to keep you and your Oread apart any longer, so I won't attempt it. Two's company, three's none. The only thing left for a wise man like me — is just to walk on in front and take a German lesson from Fraulein Philippina." Fortunately for Florian, too, Philippina proved to be one of those gay and easy-going young ladies with whom the want of a common tongue wherein to express one's thoughts forms a very slight barrier to the course of conversation. Already at her chalet he had guessed as much; and now on the hill-top, they walked along side by side, chatting and laughing as they went, with ex- pressive eyes, and making themselves mutually under- stood as much by nods and becks and wreathed smiles — so Florian poetically phrased it in his silent soul — as by any articulate fo.m of the German language. Before thev had reached the Schloss they stood already on ex- cellent terms with one another, and Florian even consoled himself for the enforced loss of Linnet's society with the 126 LINNET IINIiil J reflection that Philippina was, after all, in many ways " a great deal more practical." But Linnet, walking behind, was in the seventh heav- ens. She had found her Englander once more, and that alone would have been enough for her. But that wasn't all; this second chance meeting, perfectly nstural as it was — for Andreas had but followed the stream of tourists southward — impressed her simple mind with the general idea that the world, after all, wasn't as big as she had sup- posed it, and that she'd be liable now to meet the gnddigc Herr wherever she went, quite casually and accidentally. Not, indeed, that she troubled her head much just then about the future in any way: with Will by her side, she lived wholly in the present. She didn't even ask him why he had gone away from Innsbruck without coming to say good-by to her in person; she didn't utter a single word of reproach or complaint ; she accepted all that ; she took it all for granted. Will never could marry her ; she didn't expect him to marry her: a gentleman like him couldn't marry a peasant-girl ; a Catholic like herself couldn't marry a heretic who scarcely bowed the knee to Our Blessed Lady. But she loved him for all that, and she was happy if he would but let her walk beside him. And in this she was purely and simply womanly. True love doesn't ask any end beyond itself: it is amply satis- fied with being loved and loving. And Will? Well, Will had a poet's nature, and the poet lives in the passing emotion. Only a man of moods can set moods before us. Like Linnet herself. Will thought little of the futrire \.nen Linnet was beside him. He meant her no harm, as he said truly to Florian ; but he meant her no good either ; he meant nothing at all but to walk by her side, and hold her hand in his, and feel his heart beat hard, and her finger-touch thrill through him. Walking thus as in a mist, they passed Dorf Tyrol ; and the road at once grew wilder and more romantic. It grew also more sequestered, with deeper bends and nooks, as it turned the corners of little ravines and gulleys, where they could look at one another more frankly with the eager eyes of young love ; and once. Will raised his hand to Linnet's nut-brown cheek, and pressed it tenderly. I .innet said nothing, but the hot blood rushed to her face SCHLOSS TYROL 127 the loods Will him. It he to [\ his 1 him. and It )oks, with mingled shame and pleasure ; and who was so glad as she that Will Deverill should touch her! The path wound round a deep gorge, overhanging a torrent, with Schloss Tyrol itself frowning beyond on its isolated crag — a picturesque and half-ruinous mediaeval fortress, almost isolated on a peninsular mass of crumb- ling mud-cliflf, interspersed with the ice-worn debris of pre-histonc glaciers. 'Tis a beautiful spot. Petty Al- pine rills, tearing headlong down the sides, have carved out for themselves steep ravines which all but island the castle ; their banks rise up sheer as straight walls of cliflf, displaying on their faces the grey mud of the moraine, from which the ice-worn boulders project boldly here and there, or tumble from time to time to encumber the lit- tered beds of the streams that dislodged them. But what struck Florian most of all, as he paused and looked, was the curious effect produced where a single large boulder has resisted the denuding action of the streams and the rainfall so as to protect the tapering column of hardened mud beneath it. Each big rock thus stood paradoxically perched on the summit of a conical pillar, called locally an earth-pyramid, and forming, Florian thought, the most singular element in this singular landscape. Close to its end the track bends round an elbow to skirt the ravine, and then plunges for a hundred yards or more into a dark and narrow underground passage through the isthmus of moraine stuff, before drawing up at the portcullis of the dismantled fortress. A more romantically mysterious way of approaching a mediaeval stronghold Florian could hardly imagine : it reminded him of Ivanhoe or the Castle of Otranto. But as Florian and Philippina disappeared under the shadow of the darkling archway, Will found himself alone for one moment with Linnet, screened from obser- vation by the thick trellis-work of the vineyards. They were walking close together, whispering in one another's ears those eternal nothings which lovers have whispered in the self-same tones, but in a hundred tongues, for ten thousand ages. Occasion favored them. Will glanced round for a moment; then with a rapid movement he drew the trembling girl to himself, half unresisted. Her cheek was flushed, partly with joy, partly with fear, that 128 Lli^NET :i|iil!i! he should dare to lay hands on her. His boldness thrilled her through with a delicious thrill — the true womanly joy in being masterfully handled. " No, no," she cried in a taint voice ; " you mustn't, you mustn't.'" But she said it shyly, as one who half-wishes xier words to fail of their effect : and Will never heeded her " no " — and oh, how glad she was that Will never heeded it! He held her face up to his, and bent his own down tenderly. Linnet tried to draw back, yet pursed up her lips at the same time and let him kiss her when he tried ; but she made him try first, though when at last he succeeded, she felt the kiss course trembling through her inmost being. It was but a moment, yet that moment to her was wortli many eternities. For a second of time she nestled against him confidingly, for now he was hers, and she was his for ever. Their lips had sealed it. But before he could steal another, she had broken away from him again, and stood half-penitent, half-overjoyed, by the roadside, a little way from him. " No more now ! " she said, grave- ly, lifting one finger in command ; " we must follow Herr Florian." And with that, they plunged at once into the gloom of the tunnel. What happened by the way, no ore knows save them- selves ; but, two minutes later, with blushing cheeks, they rejoined their companions by the gateway of the castle. Even flushed as she was. Linnet couldn't help admiring it. It was beautiful, wonderful. The ancient wealth and dignity of the first counts of Schloss Tyrol remain well reflected to this day in the rude magnificence of their Romanesque residence. Linnet looked up with wonder at the round-arched portal of the principal doorway, rich- ly carved with quaint squat figures of grotesque fancy, naive, not to say childish and uncouth, in design, but admirable and exquisite in execution. " Tenth ceiitury workmanship!" Florian said, with a bland smile, as he looked up at it, condescendingly ; and Will, pulling him- self together again, explained to the two girls in detail the various meanings of the queer little figures. Here were Adam and Eve ; here Jonah and the whale ; here saints reveled in Heaven ; here, lost souls rolled in tor- ment. Linnet gazed, and admir-^d the beauty of the door — but still more, Will's learning. If only she could SCHLOSS TYROL 129 undersiand such things as that! But there! — he was so wise, and she so ignorant! They passed into the hall — that stately old Rittersaal, adorned with marble carvings of the same infantile type — and looked sheer down from the windows a thousand feet on to the valley below, with the falls of the Adige behind, and a sea of tumultuous porphyritic mountains surging and rolling in the farther background. 'Twas a beautiful view in itself, rendered more beautiful still by its picturesque setting of semi-circular arches, divided and supported by slender shafts of polished alabaster. To an untutored girl of Linnet's native artistic tempera- ment, it was delightful to pass through those lordly halls and into that exquisite chapel with its quaint old fres* coes, in company with somebody who could explain their whole meaning to her simple intelligence so well as Will Deverill. Though she felt her own ignorance — felt it acutely, sensitively — she felt at the same time how fast she could learn from such a teacher ; and as she dropped on her knees before the twelfth-century Madonna in the spangled shrine of Lliat antiquated chantry, it was not for herself alone that she murmured below her breath, in very tremulous tone?., an Ave Maria. Will and Florian talked, too, of the Schioss and its history. Linnet listened with all her ears, though she hardly understood half the English words they used to describe it — how it commanded the whole vast plain of Meran and Botzen, the widest and most populous in the Eastern Alps, one basking garden of vines and Indian corn and fruit-trees, thickly dotted with hamlets, churches, and castles. " You can see v/hy the counts who lived here spread their power and their name by slow de- grees over the whole of this country," Will said, as they gazed down on it. And then he went on to talk of how the Counts of Tyrol gradually absorbed Meran and Bot- zen, and in course of time, by their possession of the Brenner route, the great mediaeval highway from Italy to Germany, acquired the over lordship of the whole wide tract which is now called after them. Oh. what ^rand words he used! Linnet listened, and wondered at them. She caught, from time to time, the name of Margaret Maultasch — that Meg of the Pocket-Mouth who made fii I'l,- ■1^. ' , i i \:l' ■■ 1 'iy,:J < -.1; u 130 LINNET over her dominions to the house of Austria — and learned from stray hints how the Counts of the new line moved their capital northward from Meran to Innsbruck. It was marvelous how Herr Will, who was a stranger from England, should know so much more about her people's history than she herself did! But there! what did she say ? Herr Will knew everything. Florian and Philippina went off by themselves after awhile among the ruins of the ramparts. Linnet was left alone with Will again by the windows of the Rittersaal. All this historical talk had inflamed her eager mind with vague hopes and possibilities. Why should not she too know? Why should not she too be fit for him, like the fair-haired lady ? " Herr Will," she said at last, turning round to him with a shy look in her shrinking eyes, " How I wish you could teach me ! How I wish you could tell me how to learn such things ! We shall 1 . here for a month. Why shouldn't I begin? Why shouldn't I learn now ? We may see each other often." " Will you be on the hill behind the town to-morrow ? " Will asked, half-ashamed of himself for these endless breakings-off, and these fresh re-commencements. " Perhaps," Linnet answered timidly, in her accus- tomed phrase ; " if Philippina will come . . . and if she doesn't tell Andreas." " Where will you be ? " Will inquired, taking her hand in his own once more and holding it. Linnet looked down and paused. " I might be near the cross at the turn of the road by the second oratory, about ten o'clock," she said very low, " if Our Lady per- mits me." Will pressed her hand hard. " And where do you sing to-night ? " he asked, with a little smile of pleasure. " I must come and hear you." To his immense surprise Linnet drew back at once, red as a rose, and fixed her eyes on him pleadingly. " Oh, no, don't," she cried, much distressed. " Don't, don't, I beg of you." Will, in turn, lifted his head, astonished, and looked hard at her. He couldn't understand this strange freak of feeling. " Then don't you like me to hear you ? " he cried, regretfully. "It's such a pleasure to me. I hand SCHLOSS TYROL 131 thought you wanted me to near. And I thought I en- couraged you." " So you do," Linnet answered with a burst half- sidling towards him, half -shrinking. " I love you to hear me. And I'll sing for you whenever you like. I'll sing for you till I'm hoarse. But don't come to the hotels. Oh, don't come, I implore you ! " " Why not, my child ? " Will cried, drawing her close to him once more. Linnet's cheeks burnt crimson. She looked down and stammered. Then, with a sudden impulse she hid her face on his bosom, and yielded up her whole soul to him. " Because," she whispered, all aglow with maiden shame at having confessed the truth, " if Andreas Hausberger sees you, he'll know you're in Meran — and then he won't allow me to come out on the hills to meet you." u sing "I CHAPTER XVII CAUGHT OUT That avowal of Linnet's that she didn't want Andreas Hausberger to know of Will's presence in the town put Will's relations towards her during the next few weeks on a different, and to some extent compromising, footing It introduced into their meetings a certain shadowy ele- ment of clandestine love-making which was in many ways distasteful to Will's frank and manly nature, though it was at the same time, as Florian felt, a hundred times more " dangerous " for him than any open acquaintance. For Andreas, after all, was Linnet's ostensible guardian and nearest male protector. To meet Linnet on the hills, without his knowledge or consent, was to place oneself in the position of an unrecognized lover. Will knew it was a mistake. And yet — he did it. We, who have made no mistakes of any sort in all our lives, but have steadily followed the beaten track all through, with sheep-like persistence, can afford to disapprove of him. So, day after day, during the next few weeks. Will went up on the hills to walk and talk with Linnet. Rue Palmer was delighted. She thought, poor soul, her scheme was succeeding admirably. Will was out every morning on the mountains alone, working hard at his magnum opus, which was to astonish the world, and with which she had inspired him. It was glorious, glorious! And, indeed, in spite of the time wasted in talking with Linnet, though the best spent time, as everybody knows, is the time we waste. Will did really succeed in writing and composing at odd moments and in the night watches no small part of his graceful and beautiful little operetta, " The Chamois Hunter's Daughter." But alas for poor Rue, it was not she who inspired it. On these morning expeditions up the surrounding hills to some appointed trysting-place, Florian sometimes ac- 133 h I!"',-; CAUGHT OUT 133 companied him, and sometimes not. But, in any case, he abstained from mentioning their object to Rue ; as he put it himself, never should it be said that Florian Wood could split upon two ill-advised but confiding young peo- ple. It suited Florian's book now, indeed, that Will's at- tention should be distracted from Rue to Linnet. He wanted to make the running for himself with the Ameri- can heiress, and he was by no means sorry that so danger- ous and important a rival as the author of " Voices from the Hills " should be otherwise occupied. So he kept his own counsel about Will and Linnet; he had abdicated by this time his self-appointed function of moral censor ; and seeing they would go to the devil in any case, he was inclined to let them go their own headlong way, into the jaws of matrimony, without preliminary haggling. He that will to Cupar, maun to Cupar. Deverill would marry his cow-girl in the end — of that Florian felt cer- tain ; and when a man's quite determined to make a fool of himself, you know, why, you only earn his dislike, in- stead of his esteem, by endeavoring to win him back again to the ways of wisdom. And Will ? Well, Will himself had as yet no very fixed ideas of his own as to whither he was tending. Being only a poet, he was content to drift with the wind and tide, and watch on what shoals or shores they might finally cast him. Most probably, if things had been al- lowed to go their own way, he would sooner or later have justified Florian's pessimistic prophecies by marrying Linnet. He would have gone on and on, falling more and more deeply in love with the pretty peasant every day, and letting her fall every day more and more deeply in love with him, till at last conventional diflferences sank to nothing in his eyes, and he remembered only that heart answereth to heart, be it poet's or alp-girl's. At present, however, he troubled himself little v/ith any of these things. He was satisfied for the moment, Florian said, to bask in the sunshine of that basilisk's smile, with- out care for the morrow. Sooner or later, he felt sure, in so small a town, either Florian or he must run up un- awares against Andreas Hausberger. Whenever that happened, no doubt, there must be some sort of change or new departure. Meanwhile, he religiously avoided the 11: w 134 LINNET mi' Promenade, where he was likeHest to come suddenly on the wise impresario. So he stuck to the hills, with or without Linnet. The very next morning, indeed, after this their chance meeting, he went up the Kiichelberg once more, im- pressed with an ardent desire to aid and abet Linnet's laudable wish for self-education. He brought a book up with him to read to the two girls under the bright blue sky, as they sat on the hillside. He chose a pleasant spot, in the full eye of the autumn sun, on a rounded boss of rock, whose crumbling clefts were still starred with wild pinks and rich yellow tormentils. Florian had contributed to the feast of reason and the flow of soul a kilogram of grapes — they cost but threepence-halfpenny a pound in the vintage season — unknown luxuries till then to Philip- pina and Linnet. Philippina found the grapes delicious, but the book rather dry; its style was stilted, and it ap- peared to narrate the story of a certain Doctor Faust, his transactions with a gentleman of most doubtful shape (who caused Philippina to look round in some fear), and his wicked designs against the moral happiness of a young girl called Gretchen. Philippina yawned; it was a tedious performance. Florian, having reduced his share of the grapes to their skins alone, yawned in con- cert with the lady, and began to play with his eyeglass. As his German didn't suffice to understand the lines, even when aided by Will's dramatic delivery and clear enunci- ation, he found the play slow, and the reader a nuisance. So he was verv well pleased when Philippina suggested, at a break in the first act, they should go oflf for a walk by themselves alone, and continue their coursv^ of oral in- struction in the German language. Florian liked Philip- pina; there was no silly nonsense about her. After all, in a woman, if all you want is a walk on the Kiichelberg, the total absence of silly nonsense, you must at once ad- mit, is a great recommendation. But Linnet sat on. She sat on, and listened. She drank it in, open-eyed, and with parted lips — every line and every word of it. Dear Herr Will read so well, and made her feel and understand every point so dramatically ; and the book — the book itself was so profoundly interest- ing. Never in her life before had Linnet heard anything CAUGHT OUT 135 She line I, and rally ; jrest- thing the least bit like it. It was grand, it was beautiful ! She didn't know till then the world contained such books ; her reading had been confined to her alphabet and grammar at the parish folk-school, supplemented by the good little tracts on purgatory and the holy saints, distributed by the Herr Vicar and the sisters at the nunnery. Theological literature v/as the sole form yet known to her. This weird tale about Gretchen and th^ transformed pniloso- pher opened out to her new vistas of a v/orld of possibil- ities. Long after, when she sang in great opera-houses, as Marguerite in Gounod's " Faust," she remembered with a thrill how she had first heard that ta!**, in Goethe's deathless words, from Will Deverill's lips, on the green slopes of the Kuchelberg. She sat there for an hour or two, never heeding the time, but listening, all entranced, to that beautiful story. Now and again Will broke ofif, and held her hand for a moment, and gazed deep into her eyes, and said some sweet words of his own to her. He was a poet, Herr Will, in his own tongue and land; she knew now what that meant — he could make up such lovely things as he read from the book to her. " Tell me some of your own, Herr Will. Tell me some of your own verses," she said, sighing, at last. " I should love to hear them." But Will shook his head. " The English is too hard. You wouldn't understand them, Linnet," he answered. " Let me try," Linnet pleaded, with such a winning look that Will couldn't resist her. And to humor her whim, he repeated the simplest of the laughing little love- songs from his book of ** Voices." The ring of it was pretty — very sweet and musical. Linnet half understood — no more; for the words were too hard for her. But it spurred her on to further effort. " You must lend me some books like that in English," she said, simply. " I want to be wise, like you and Herr Florian." So Will brought her next day from the book-shop in the town the dainty little " Poetry Book of Modern Poets," in the Tauchnitz edition. He wrote her name in it too; and Linnet took it home, and hid it deep in her box in a white silk handkerchief, and read bits of it by night, very stealthily in her own room, spelling out what ■+.l!i.' 136 LINNET it meant with Andreas Hausberger's dictionary. Long after, she had that precious volume bound in white Florentine vellum, with a crimson Heiirs-de-lys on the cover, at a house just opposite the Duomo at Florence. But at present she read it in its paper covers. She read other books, too — ^German books which Will chose for her; not instructive books which were over her head, but poetry and romance and imaginative literature, such as her ardent Tyrolese nature could easily assimilate. Day after day, Will read her aloud something fresh — Undine, the Maid of Orleans, Uhland's Ballads, Paul Heyse's short stories — but of all the things he read to her, the one she liked best was a German translation of an Eng- lish play — a beautiful play by another English poet, whose name was also Will, but who died long ago — a play about two luckless and devoted lovers, called Pomeo and Juliet. Linnet cried over that sad story, and Will kissed her tears away ; and a little later, when Andreas Hausberger took her to Verona on their way south to Milan, Linnet went of her own accord to see Juliet's tomb in a court- yard in the town, and wasted much excellent sympathy and sentiment over the shameless imposture of that bare Roman sarcophagus. But she meant very well ; and she believed in Juliet even more firmly than she believed in Siegfried and Chriemhild and all the other fine folks to whom Will introduced her. So three weeks passed away, three glorious golden weeks, and day after day, on those lovely hillsides, Lin- net sav; her lover. At the end of a fortnight, Rue heard, from various friends at other hotels, of a wonderful sing- er in a Tyrolese troupe, then performing nightly in the various salons. " Why, that must surely be Linnet ! " she said before Will, to the first friend who mentioned it. " Yes ; Linnet — that's her name," Rue's friend assent- ed. " I knew she was in the town," Will admitted some- what sheepishly; for he felt as if he were somehow de- ceiving Rue, though it never would have entered his good, modest head to suppose she herself could care anything about him, except as a poet in whose work she was kind enough to take a friendly interest. " Ah, I should love to he^r her again ! " Rue cried, en- CAUGHT OUT 137 I Eng- ■olden Lin- Iheard, sing- in the Inet ! " icd it. Issent- ;ome- IkV de- ;^ood, |thing kind I, en- thusiastically. " She sings like a nightingale — sucn a splendid soprano ! Let's find out where she'll be to-night, and go round in a body to the hotel to hear her! But Will demurred strongly. He'd rather not go, he said; he'd stop at home by himself and get on with his operetta. At that, Rue was secretly pleased in her own heart ; she felt it throb sensibly. After all, then, her poet didn't really and truly care for the pretty alp-girl. He knew she was in the town — and, in spite of that knowl- edge, had spent every evening all the time with herself at the Erzherzog Johann! Nor would Florian go either; he invented some excuse to account for his reluctance. So Rue went with two new girls she had picked up at the hotel, in succession to the giggling inarticulates at Inns- bruck. Linnet recognized her in the crowd, for the room was crowded — 'twas a nightly ovation now, wherever Linnet sang — and knew her at once as the fair-haired lady. But Florian and Will weren't with her to-night! That made Linnet's heart glad. She had come without him! After all, her Englander didn't always dance at- tendance, it seemed, on the fair-haired Frau with the many diamonds ! So easily had Will made two women's hearts happy, by stopping at home at his hotel that evening! For women think much more of men than men imagine — their poor little breasts live for the most part in a per- petual flutter of love and expectancy. As the weeks wore away, however, it began to strike Franz Lindner as a singular fact, that Philippina and Lin- net severed themselves so much every day from the rest of the troupe, and went up on the hills all alone for exer- cise. That fierce young Robbler was a true Tyrolese in his treatment of his women. Though he never abated one jot or tittle of his attentions to Linnet, it hardly oc- curred to him as forming any part of a lover's duty to accompany his madchen in her morning rambles. Franz was too much engaged himself, indeed, with the young men of the place in the cafes and beer-gardens, to find much time hanging idle on his hands for female society. He had made many friends in the gay little town. His hat and his feather were well known by this time io half the gilded youth in the Meran restaurants, Andreas ^38 LINNET Haus5erger had turned out the young women on the hills; and there they might stop, so far as Franz Lindner was concerned to prevent them. Andreas Hausberger had been wondrous careful of Linnet's health of late, since he saw he was likely to make pots of money from her. He had bound them all down by a three years' engage- ment, and he knew now that Linnet was worth at least five times the sum he had bargained to pay her. But Franz Lindner's health might take care of itself; and Franz didn't think much, personally, of the air of the mountains. He'd had enough of all that in his jager days ; now the chrysalis had burst and let loose the butter- fly; his wander-years had come, and he meant to sip the sweets of advanced civilization. And he sipped them in the second-rate bars and billiard-rooms of a small town in South Tyrol. On this particular morning, however, it occurred to his Robblership to inquire in his own mind why the womenland loved to walk so much by themselves on the mountains. Philippina hadn't told him, to be sure; Philippina had an eye to Andreas Hausberger herself — was he not the zvirth, and the master of the troupe ? — and she was therefore by no means averse to any little device which might distract poor Linnet from that most desirable admirer. Still, Franz had his suspicions. Women are so deep, a man can never fathom them ! He mounted the Kiichelberg by the zig-zag path, and turning to the left by the third Madonna, came at last to a little knoll of bare porphyry rock, looking down on the wide vale and the long falls of the Adige. A very small and dainty, not to say effeminate, young man, in a knickerbocker suit of most Britannic aspect, was strolling some distance off, with his arm encircling a woman's plump waist, which suspiciously reminded Franz of his friend Philippina's. The Robbler could hardly believe his eyes ; could that be Herr Florian ? Oh no; for they had left the foreign Herrschaft at the hotel at Innsbruck. But here, close by, behind the shadow of some junipers — stranger sight still! — stretched at lergth on the ground, and reading aloud in German to some un- seen person, lav another young man in another tourist suit, with a voice that most strikingly and exactly recalled CAUGHT OUT 139 irist (lied the other Englander's at St. Valentin. Franz drew a deep breath, and strode a long step forward. At sound of his foot, the unseen person sprang back where she sat with a quick, small scream. Black as night in his wrath, Franz peered round and faced them. It was undoubted- ly Will; quite as undoubtedly Linnet! The Robbler spoke angrily. You again ! " he cried, clenching his fist, and knitting his brow hard, with bullet head held forward. "Are you following us in hiding? What do you mean by this trick ? You daren't show your face, coward, at our inn in the town ! You steal up here and skulk ! What do you mean with the made hen f " At that imputation of secrecy, and still worse of cowardice, Will sprang up and confronted him. " I dare show my face anywhere you like," he answered in hot blood. " I have not followed this lady ; I came here be- fore her, and met her at Meran by the purest accident. But I refuse to be questioned about her by you or by any- one. What right have you to ask? She is no madehen of yours. Who gave you any power or authority over her ? " For a moment the Robbler instinct rose fierce and hot in Franz Lindner's breast. He drew back half a pace, as if making ready to spring at him. In a few angry words he repeated his cutting taunts, and spoke savagely to Lin- net. *' Go home, go home, girl ; you are here for no good! What can this Englander want, save one thing, with a sennerinf " He laid his hand roughly on Linnet's shoulder. Will couldn't stand that sight; he clutched the man's arm fiercely, twisted it round in the socket, and pushed him back like a child, in the white heat of his anger. Franz saw the interloper was strong — far stronger than he sup- posed. " If you dare to lay your hand on this lady again," Will cried, standing in front of her like a living buckler, " I give you due warning, you do it at your peril. Your life is at stake. I won't permit you to behave with brutality before me." In his native valley the Robbler would have flown at Will's throat on those words, and fought him, strong as he was, to the death, for his madehen. But since he came to Meran he had learned some new ways: such were not 140 LINNET he now knew, the manners of civilization. Will's reso- lute attitude even produced a calming effect upon the young barbarian. He felt in his heart he had a better plan than that. To beat Will in fair fight would, after all, be useless ; the mddchen wouldn't abide, as m'ddchen ought, by the wager of battle. But he could wound him far worse. He could go down to the town — and tell Andreas Hausberger how his ward spent her mornings on the slopes of the Kiichelberg! Already he was learning the ways of the world. With a sarcastic smile, he raised his hat ceremoniously, turned feather and all, in mock politeness. " Good morning, mein Herr," he drawled out, with a fine north German accent, picked up in the billiard-rooms. " Good morning, scnnerin." And without another word he strode away down the mountain. But as soon as he was gone Linnet burst into tears. " Ah, I know what he'll do ! " she cried, sobbing and trembling. " He'll ^o down to the town and tell Andreas Hausberger. He"i go down to the town and tell ' nd you don't mean to harm her, and you can't go away from her. and you can't afford to stop with her, — why, what possible new term are you going to introduce into human relations and the English language to cover your ways with her ? " " That's just it. I don't know," Will answered, in a somewhat hopeless and helpless voice, piling the embers together in the center as he spoke, just to keep them alight for some minutes longer. " There's the rub. I admit it. Nobody feels it more than I do. But I don't see any pos- sible kind of way out of it. I've been thinking to myself — or perhaps half-thinking — T mipfht manage it like this, if Linnet would assent to it. We might get married first " Florian raised cne warning hand, and nodded his shape- FLORIAN ON MATRIMONY 159 ly head up and down two or three times solemnly. " I told you so," he interposed, in a tone of most mitigated and mournful triumph. " There we get at it at last. You have said the word. I was sure 'twould come to that. Marry, marry, marry ! " " And then." Will went on, with a very shamefaced air, never heeding his comment, " what's enough for one's enough for two, they say — or very nearly. I thought we might live in lodgings quite quietly for awhile, somewhere cheap, in London " " Not live/' Florian corrected gravely, with another sage nod of that sapient head ; " lurk, linger, vegetate. A very sad ei A most dismal downfall! I see it all: Surrey side, tnirty shillings a week ; cold mutton for din- ner ; bread and cheese for lunch ; an ill-furnished parlor, a sloppy-faced slavey ! I know the sort of thing. Pah ! My gorge rises at it ! " " And then, I could get Linnet's voice trained and pre- pared for the stage," Will continued, perusing his boots, " and work very haril myself to keep us both alive till she could come out in public. In a year or two, I feel sure, if I watched her close and saw her capabilities, I could write and compose some good piece of my own to suit her exactly. With me to make the songs, and Linnet to interpret them, I believe, sooner or later, we ought easily to earn a very good livelihood. But it'd be a hard pull first; I don't conceal that from myself. We'd have a struggle for life, though in the end, I feel sure, we'd live it down and conquer " Florian lighted a cigarette and watched the thin blue smoke curl upward, languidly. " Love's young dream ! " he mused to himself with a placid smile of superior wis- dom. " I know the style of old. Bread and cheese and kisses ! Very charming, very charming ! Chorus hy- meneal of the most approved pattern. So odd, so interest- ing! I've often asked myself what it is in the world that leads otherwise sensible and intelligent fellows to make wrecks of their lives in this incredible way — and all for the sake of somebody else's daughter! Why this insane desire to relieve some other man of his natural respon- sibilities? I account for it in my own mind 00 evolu- tionary principles. Marriage, it st-enis to me, is an ir- hr 1 60 LINNET m rational and incomprehensible civilized instinct, by which the individual sacrifices himself on the shrine of duty for the benefit of the species. Have you ever heard of the lemmings ? " " The lemmings ! " Will repeated, unable to conceive the connection in Fl«rian's mind between two such totally dissimilar and unrelated subjects. " Not those little brown animals like rats or marmots they have in Nor- way ? " " Precisely," Florian answered, waving his cigarette airily. " Those little brown animals like rats or marmots they have in Norway. You put it like a dictionary. Well, every year or two, you know, an irresistible desire seizes on many myriads of those misguided rodents at once, to march straight to the sea in a body together, plunge boldly into the water, and swim out in a straight line, without rhyme or reason, till they can swim no farther but drown themselves by carloads. What's the origin of this swarmcry? It's only an instinct which keeps down the nuniber of the lenmiings, and so acts as a check against over-population. A beautiful and in- genious provision of Nature they call it!" and Florian smild sweetly. " I've always thought," he went on, puffing a contemptuous ring of smoke from his pursed- up lips, " that marriage among mankind was a very simi- lar instinct. It's death to the individual — mental and moral death; but it ensure-, at least a due continuance of the sj)ecies. The vv'isc man doesn't marry; he knows too well for that ; he stands by and looks on ; but he leaves no descendants, and his wisdom dies with him. Where- an the foolish burden themselves with a wife and family and Ijecome thereby tht perpetuators of their race in future. It's a wonderful dispensation; I admire it — at a distance! " " But you said you'd marry yourself," Will objected, "if you met the right person ; and, to tell you the truth, Florian, 1 fancied you'd b' vn rather markedly attentive to Rue for the last few weeks or so." Florian stroked a smooth small chin with five meditative fingers. " That's quite another matter," he answered, in a self-satisfied ivne. ** Circumstances, it has been well remarked by an anonymous thinker, alter cases. If an FLORIAN ON MATRIMONY i6] tative ed, in well If an Oriental potentate in all his glory were to order me to flop down on my marrow-bones before him and kiss his imperial foot as an act of pure homage, I should take my proud stand as a British subject, and promptly decline so degrading a ceremony. But if he offered me a thou- sand :oounds down to comply with his wishes, I would give the polite request my most earnest consideration. If he made it ten thousand, I would almost certainly ac- cede ; and if he went to half-a-milHon, which is a fortune for life, well, no gentleman on earth could dream of dis- puting the question any further with him. Just so, I say, with marriage. If a lady desires me, without due cause assigned, to become her abject slave, and serve her alone for a lifetime, I will politely but firmly answer, * No, thank you.' If she confers upon me, incidentally, a modest competence, I shall perpend for a moment, and murmur, * Well, possibly.' But if she renders me inde- pendent and comfortable for life, with a chance of sur- rounding myself with books, pictures, music, without a moment's hesitation I shall answer, * Like a bird,' to her. Slavery, in short, though in itself disagreeable, may be miti2"ated or altogether outweighed by concomitant ad- vantages." " Florian," Will said, earnestly, " I don't know what you mean. You speak a foreign language to me. If I felt like that, I could never bring myself to marry any woman. If I married at all, I must do it for the sake of the girl I loved — and to make her happy." Florian gazed at him compassionately. " Quixotic," he answered low, shaking his sculpturesque head once or twice with a face of solemn warning. " Quixotic, ex- ceedingly ! The pure lemming instinct ; they zvill rush in- to it ! It's the moth and the candle again : dazzle, buzz, and flutter, — and pom! pom! Pom! — in a second you're caught, and sizzled hot in the flame, and reduced to ashes. That's how it'll be with you, my dear fellow: you'll go back to Meran and, by Jingo, to-morrow, you'll go straight up the hill, and ask the cow-girl to marry you." " I think I will," the poet answered, taking up his cande-stick with a sigh to leave the room. ** I think I will, Florian. I'll fight it out to the bitter end, sloppy slavey and all, on your threatened south side, in those ' ) li'V 162 LINNET dingy lodgings." And he took himself off with a hurried nod to his bland companion. Florian rose, and closed the door behind the poet, soft- ly. He had played his cards well, remarkably well, that evening. If he wanted to drive Will into proposing to Linnet, he had gone the right way to effect his object. " And I," he thought to himself with a contented smile, " will stand a fair chance with Rue, without fear of a rival, when once he's gone off and got well married to his cow-girl. It'll be interesting to ask them to a nice lit- tle dinner, from their Surrey side garret, at our snug small den in Park Lane or South Kensington. Park Lane's the most fashionable, but South Kensington's the pleasantest : In Cromwell Road did Florian Wood, A stately pleasure dome decree. Such a palace of art as it will be, too ! I can see it now, in my mind's eye, Horatio! — Botticellis, Delia Robbias, Elzevirs, Stradivariuses : William Morris on the floor ! Lewis Day on the ceiling ! It rises like an exhalation, all beautiful to behold! Such things might I do — with Rue's seven hundred thousand ! " CHAPTER XXI FORTUNES WHEEL It was with no little trepidation that Will mounted the Kiichelberg on the morning after his return to Meran from the Dolomites. Would Linnet be there, he won- dered, or would he somehow miss her? He didn't know why, but a certain vague foreboding of possible evil pos- sessed his soul. He was dimly conscious to himself of danger ahead. He couldn't feel reassured till he stood once more face to face with Linnet. When he arrived at the appointed place, however, by the Station of the Cross which represented the Comfort- ing of the Daughters of Jerusalem, a cold shudder of alarm came over him suddenly. No Linnet there! Not a sign of her to be seen ! And hitherto she had always kept her tryst before him. He took out his watch and looked. Ha, a moment's respite! In his eagerness, he had arrived five minutes early. But Linnet was usually, even so, five minutes ahead of him. He couldn't make it out; this was ominous, very! With heart standing still, he waited a quarter of an hour — half-an-hour — three-quarters. And still no Linnet came! — And still he watched eagerly. He paced up and down, looking again and again at his watch with impa- tience. Could she have mistaken the place? Yet he told her plain enough ! On the bare chance of some error, he would try the other stations. He went to them all, one by one, from the Crown of Thorns to the Calvary. The same luck still! No Linnet at any of them! Then he lounted the great boss of ice-worn rock with the bench on its top, that commands far and wide the whole expanse of the Kiichelberg. Gazing down on every side upon the long, low hog's back, he saw nobody all around save the women in the fields, watching their cows at pasture, and the men with the carts urging overtasked oxen to drag too heavy a load up the cobble-paved hill-track. i6$ t ' 1 164 LINNET im'' Thoroughly alarmed by this time, and uncertain how to act, Will determined to take a very bold measure. He descended the hill once more, and, passing under the arch- way of the old town gate, and through the narrow streets, and past the high-towered parish church, he made his way straight to Andreas Hausberger's inn in the street that is called Unter den Lauben. At the doorway, Franz Lind- ner, all on fire, was sianding. Wrath smoldered in his face ; his hat was cocked fiercely ; his feather, turned Rob- blerwise, looked angrier, more defiant, more aggressive than ever. But to Will's immense surprise, the village champion, instead of scowling challenge at him, or reced- ing under the arch, stepped forward with outstretched palm to meet him. He grasped Will's hand hard. His pressure struck some note of a common misfortune. " You've com-:: to look for Linnet ? " he said, holding his head very haughtily. " She wasn't on the hill ? She'd promised to meet you there? Well, we're both in the same box, it seems. He's done two of us at once. This is indeed a dirty trick Andreas Hausberger has played up- on us ! " " What do you mean ? ' 'Will cried, aghast, clapping his hand to his head. " Where's Linnet ? I want to see her." " You won't see her ever again as Lina Telser, that's sure," the Robbler answered aloud, with an indignant gesture. His wrath against Andreas had wholly swal- lowed up all memory of his little quarrel on the hills with Will Deverill. It was common cause now. Andreas had outwitted both of them. " You can't mean to tell me " Will cried, drawing back in horror. Franz took him up sharply. " Yes ; I do mean to tell you just what I say," he answered, knitting his brows. " Andreas Hausberger has gone off with her ... to St. Valentin ... to marry her." It was a bolt from the blue — an unforseen thunder- stroke. Will raised his hat from his brow, and held his hand on his stunned and astonished forehead. " To mar- ry her ! " he repeated, half-dazed at the bare thought. " Andreas Hausberger to marry her 1 — to marry Linnet 1 Oh no ; it can't be true j i^Vi never can mean it I " FORTUNE'S WHEEL lbs Franz stared at him doggedly. " He gave me the slip on Wednesday morning," he answered, with a resounding German oath. " He went off quite secretly. May the Evil One requite him! He knew if he told me before- hand I'd have planted my good knife to the handle in his heart. So he said never a word, but went off unexpected- ly, with Linnet and Philippina, leaving the rest of us here stranded, but canceling all engagements for the next three evenings. The white-livered cur ! He'll never dare to come back again ! He knows if I meet him now — it'll be this in his black heart ! " And Franz tapped signifi- cantly the short hunting knife that stuck out from his leather belt in true jdger fashion. " And you haven't followed him ? " Will exclaimed, taken aback at the man's inaction. " You know all this, and you haven't gone after him to prevent the wedding! " In an emergency like the present one, with Linnet's happi- ness at stake, he was only too ready to accept as an ally even the village bully. Franz shrugged his broad shoulders. " How could I ? " he asked, helplessly. " Have I money at command ? Have I wealth like the tvirth, to pay my fare all the way from Meran to Jenbach ? " Will drew back with a deep sigh. He had never thought of that difficulty. It's so natural to us all to have money in our pockets, or at least at our command, for any great emergency, that we seldom realize how insuperable a barrier a bare hundred miles may often seem to men of other classes. It was as impossible for Franz Lindner to get from Meran to St. Valentin at a day's notice as for most of us to buy the house of Rothschild. " Come vnth me! " Will cried, starting up. " The man has cheated us vilely. Come with me to St. Valentin, Herr Franz — forget our differences — and before he has time to get through with the legal formalities, help me, help me, to prevent this nefarious wedding ! " " It's too late to preveni it now ! " Franz answered, shaking his head, with a settled gloom on his countenance. ** It's all over by this. She's his wife already. They were married on Friday." At those words Will felt his heart stand still within him, He gasped for breath. He steadied himself me- i Brgi ; jj.vM m ..". ' .". 1 66 LINNET chanically. Never till that moment had he known how much he loved the Tyrolese singer-girl, and now the blow had come, he couldn't even believe it. " Married I " he faltered out in a broken voice ; " what, married already ! Linnet married to that man! Oh, impossible! Impos- sible!" " But it's true, all the same," Franz answered sturdily. " Philippina was there, and she saw them married. She came back last night to collect their things and pack up for Italy. She's to meet them to-morrow by the mid- day train, at a place called Verona." '* But how did he do it in the time ? " Will exclaimed still incredulous, and clinging still to the last straw with a drowning man's instinct. " Your Austrian ^aw has so many formalities. Perhaps it's .a story the man has made up on purpose to deceive us. He may have told Philippina, and she may be in league with him." Franz shook his head with gloomy determination. " No, no," he said ; " it w 't do ; don't flatter your soul with that; there's no doubi at all in the world about it. He's as deep as a well, and as false as a fox, and he'd laid all his plans very cunningly beforehand. He made the arrangements and swore to the Civil Act without con- sulting Linnet. He and the priest were in league, and the priest helped him out with it. At the very last moment, Andreas carried her off, and before she could say nay, he went straight through and married her." Will's rain reeled round ; his mind seemed to fail him. The sense of his loss, his irreparable loss, deadened for the moment every other feeling. Linnet gone from him for ever! Linnet married to somebody else! — and that somebody else so cold, so calculating, so cruel a man as Andreas Hausberger! It was terrible to contemplate. " He must have forced her to do it ! " the Englishman cried in his distress. " But how could she ever consent? How could she ever submit ? I can't believe it I I can't even understand it ! " " He didn't exactly force her," Franz answered, tilting his hat still more angrily on one side of his head. " But he brought the Herr Vicar from St. Valentin to persuade her ; and you know what priests are, and you know what women! The Herr Vicar just turned on purgatory and FORTUNE'S WHEEL 167 all the rest of it to frighten the poor child — so Philippina says. She was crying all the time. Slie cried in the train, and she cried on the road, and she cried in the church, and she cried at the altar ! She cried worst of all when Herr Andreas took her home to the IVirtlishaiis to supper. . . . But I'll be even with him yet." And Franz tapped his knife once more. '* When I meet him again — ten thousand devils ! — this goes right up to the hilt in the base black heart of him ! " "Can I see Philippina?" Will gasped out, white as death. " Yes ; certainly you can see her," the Robbler answered with a burst, leading him in through the dark archway to the sunless courtyard. " Come this way into the par- lor. She's upstairs just now, but I'll bring her down to speak to you." In a minute or two more, sure enough, Philippina ap- peared in her very best dress, looking bright and smiling. She was garrulous as usual, and most gay and lively. " Oh yes ; they had been to St. Valentin, and no mistake — the Herr Vicar going with them — no scandal of any sort — and 'twas a very grand affair; never anything like it! Andreas Hausberger had spared no expense or trouble ; red wine at the supper, and fiddlers for the dance, and all the world of the valley bidden to the feast on the night of the wedding ! Linnet had cried a good deal ; ach, yes, she had cried, how she had cried — but cried! — uiein Gott. it was wonderful! But there, girls always will cry when they're going to be married ; and you know, Herr Will," archly, " she was very, very fond of you." For herself, Philippina couldn't think what the child had to cry about — except, of course, what you call her feelings ; but all sJie could say was, she'd be very glad herself to make such a match as Lina Tclser was making. Why, w ould the }^nadigc Herr believe it? Herr Andreas was going to take her to a place called Mailand, away off in Italy, to train her for the stage — the operatic stage — and make in the end a real grand lady of her ! Will sat down on a wooden chair by the rough little table, held his face in his hands, and listened all aghast to Philippina's artless outpourings. The sennerin, un- heedinj^ his obvious distress, went on to describe in her IM i68 LINNET most glowing terms the magnificence of the wedding, and of the wirth's entertainment. St. Valentin hardly knew itself. Andreas had had a wedding-dress, oh, a beautiful wedding-dress, made beforehand, as a surprise, at Meran for Linnet — a white silk wedding-dress from a Vienna clothes-maker's on the Promenade, by the Stephanie Gar- ten ; it was cut to measure from an old bodice of Linnet's, which he abstraced all unknown from her box on pur- pose; and it fitted her like a glove, and she was ever so much admired in it. And all the young men thought Andreas the luckiest dog in the whole Tyrol ; and cousin Fridolin had almost wanted to fight him for his bride ; but Linnet intervened, and wouldn't let them have it out for her. " And on the morning after the marriage," Philip- pina concluded, with wide open eyes, " there wasn't a cradle at the door, though Linnet was a sennerin — not one single cradle." " Of course not ! " Franz Lindner cried, bridling up at the bare suggestion, and frowning native wrath at her. " But perhaps if you'd been there, Franz " Philip- pina put in saucily, and then broke off short, like a discreet maiden. The Robbler rose above himself in his generous indig- nation that anyone should dare even to hint such things about their peerless Linnet. He clinched his fist hard. " If a man had said that, my girl," he cried, fingering his knife involuntarily, " though she's Andreas Hausberger's wife, he'd have paid with his blood for it." Philippina for a moment stood silent and overawed. Then, recovering herself at once, with a sudden little recol- lection, she thrust her hand into her bosom and drew out a small note, which she passed to Will openly. " Oh, I forgot," she exclaimed ; " I was to give you this, Herr Will. Linnet asked me to take it to you on the morning of her marriage." Will opened it, and read. It was written in a shaky round hand like a servant's, and its German orthography was not wholly above criticism. But it went to Will's heart like a dagger for all that. " Dear Herr Will," it began, simply, " I write to you to-night, the last night that I may, on the eve of my wed- ding; for to-morrow I may not. When Andrezis ^sk^d FORTUNE'S WHEEL 169 me first, it seemed to me impossible. But the Herr Vicar told me it was sin to love a heretic ; you did not mean to marry me, and if you did, you would drag my soul down to eternal perdition. And then, the good Mother, and the dear Father in purgatory! So between them they made me do it, and I dared not refuse. It is hard to re- fuse when one's priest commands one. Yet, dear Herr Will, I loved you ; ah, hozv I loved you ! and I know it is sin; but, may Our Dear Frau forgive me, as long as I live, I shall always love you ! Though I never must see you again. — Your heart-broken Linnet.^' Will folded it reverently, and slipped it into the pocket just over his heart. " And tell her, Philippina," he said, " when you see her at Verona I had come back to-day to ask her to marry me." his fill's CHAPTER XXII A WOMAN S STRATAGEM ■# m W^^mJ^ For thi next three years, Will heard and saw nothing more of Linnet. Not that he failed to make indirect in- quiries, as time went on, from every likely source, as to her passing whereabouts ; once Linnet was lost to him, he realized to himself how deeply he had loveci her, how much he had admired her. But, for her happiness' sake, he felt it would be wrong of him to write to her direct, or attempt in any way to put himself into personal com- munication with her. She was Andreas Hausberger's wife now, and there he must leave her. He knew him- self too well, he knew Linnet too well, too, to cheat him- self with false ideas of mere friendship in future. A woman with so passionate a nature as hers, married against her will to a man she could never love, and meet- ing' once more the man whom Siie loved, the man who really loved her, must find such friendship a dangerous pitfall. So, for the very love's sake he bore her, he re- frained from attempting to communicate with her direct- ly ; and all indirect inquiries failed to elicit anything more than the bare fact, already known to him, that Linnet was being musicallv educated for the stage, in Germany and Italy. Three years, however, must be got through somehow, no matter how drearily ; and during those next three years many things of many sorts happened to Will Deverill. To begin with, he was steadily growing in name and fame, in the stage-world of London, as a composer and play- wright. That was mainly Rue's doing; for Rue, having once taken her Englishman up, was by no means disposed to lay him down again easily. Not twice in her life, in- deed, does even a pretty American with money at her back stand her solid chance of booming a poet. And Rue boomed Will steadily, after the manner of her country- 170 A WOMAN'S STRATAGEM 171 men. It didn't escape her quick womanly eye, indeed, that Linnet's sudden marriage and hasty flight to Italy had produced a deep effect on Will's spirits for the moment. But it was only for the moment, she hoped and believed — a mere passing whim, a poet's fancy ; impossible that a man who thought and wrote like Will Devcrill — a bard of lofty aim and exquisite imaginings, one who on honey-dew had fed and drunk tlie milk of Paradise — should be permanently enslaved by a Tyrolese cow-girl. Surely, in the end, common-sense and good taste and right feeling must prevail ; he must come back at last — well — to a woman worthv of him ! So, very shortly after Will's return to London, Rue de- cided on a complete change in her 'plans for the winter, and made up her mind, instead of going on as she had in- tended to Rome and Naples, to take a house for the WH^on in Mayfair or South Kensington. But Florian would hear of no such temporary expedients ; she must have a home of her own in London, he said, — in the world's metrop'~as, — and he himself would choose it for her. So he found her a shelter in Hans Place, Chelsea, and fitted it up beforehand with becoming magnificence — just such a palace of art as he had dreamed of among the Dolomites; though, to be sure, his own chance of inhabit- ing it now seemed considerably lessened, since the failure of his scheme for putting off Will Dcverill on his musical scnncrin. Still, Florian furnished it, all the same, with a strictly business eye to his own tastes and fancies — in case of contingencies. There was a drawing-room for Rue, of course quite utterly Hellenic ; there was a dining-room for Society, not grim and gloomy, after the common superstition of all British dining-rooms, but gay and bright and airy, like Florian himself: for Florian held that the cult of the sacred dinner bell, though important enough in the wise man's scheme of life, should be a blithe and joyous, not a solemn and stolid one; there was a smoking-room, for which Rue herself had certainly no need, but which Florian insisted might be useful in the future, as events demanded. " For, you see," he said, pointedly. " we're not in Bombay. You may yet choose a new friend to light his cigars in it." All was decorated throughout in the most modern taste; incandescent wires i ' m [i: 172 LINNET ipli|: shed tempered beams through Venetian glass globes on Liberty brocades and Morris wall-papers. 'Twas a triumph of ornamental art on a very small scale — an Alad- din's palace in Hans Place, — and Florian took good care that paragraphs should get into the Society papers, both describing the house, and attributing its glories to his own superintendence. However, he took good care, too, that due prominence should be given on every hand to Rue's own personal claims to social distinction. He was a first-rate wire- puller. Little notes about the beauty, the wealth, the cleverness, and the fine taste of the pretty American wi- dow cropped up spasmodically in Truth and the Pall Mall. Even the Spectator itself, that high-and-dry organ of in- tellectual life, deigned to recognize her existence. It was Florian's intention, in short, to float his new protegee. Now, all the world admitted that Florian, if he chose, could float almost anybody ; while Rue, for her part, was without doubt exceptionally easy of flotation. Seven hundred thousand pounds, to say the truth, would have buoyed up a far heavier social subject than the pretty and clever New Yorker. Americans are the fashion ; for a woman, at least, the mere fact that she comes from beyond the mill-pond is in itself just at present a passport to the best society. But Rue had also money; and money in these days will admit anyone anywhere. Furthermore, she had good looks, taking manners, much culture, real cleverness. She was well informed and well read ; So- ciety itself, that collective critic, could find nothing to criticize or to carp at in her conversations. So, in- troduced by Florian on one side, and His Excellency the American Minister on the other. Rue made that spring a perfect triumphal progress through the London drawing- rooms. She was the fact of the season ; she entertained in her own pretty rooms in Hans Place, where Florian exhibited his decorative skill with bland satisfaction to dowager-marchionesses, — " I edited it," was his pet phrase — while Will Deverill hung modestly in the back- ground by the door, talking, as was his wont, to those neglected souls who seemed to him most in need of en- couragement and companionship. Before two months were out, everybody was talking A WOMAN'S STRATAGEM >73 of Rue as " our new acquisition." It was Mrs. Palmer this, and Mrs. Palmer that. *' We understand Mrs. Pal- mer will not be present at the Duchess of Thingumbob's dance on Tuesday." " Among the guests on the Terrace, we noticed Lord So-and-so, Lady What's-her-name of Ware, and Mrs. Palmer of New York, whose pretty house in Hans Place is fast becoming a rallying point for all that is most interesting in London Society." (31d Miss Beard, indeed, when she arrived at the Langham Hotel early in May, and found Rue in quiet possession of the Very Best Houses, was positively scandalized. She de- clared, with a little sneer, it was perfectly disgraceful the way That Woman had forced herself In' inire brass on the English Aristocracy. The widow of a dry-goodsman to give herself such airs ! — but there. Miss Beard had be- gun to despair before now of the future of Europe ! The Nobility and Gentry of England had dcgringolated. For true blue blood, she was perfectly convinced, you could only look nowadays to the heirs of the Puritans, the Knickerbockers, and the Virginians. The very first use Rue made of her new-found friends and position in London was to push Will Devcrill's claims with theatrical managers. Will had sent the manuscript score of his pretty little open-air operetta, *■ Honeysuckle," to Wildon Blades of the Duke of Edin- burgh's Theater. And, before Mr. Blades had had time to consider the work submitted to him backed up as it was by Florian Wood's powerful recommendation. Rue's new victoria drew up one day at the door of the manager's house in St. John's Wood, and Rue herself, in her most becoming and bewitching costume, stepped out, with her blameless footman's aid, to interview him. The pretty little American looked prettier and more charming than ever that morning. A dainty blush rose readily to her peach-blossom cheeks ; her eyes were cast down ; an unwonted tinge of flutter in voice and manner became her even better than her accustomed serenity. Mr. Blades bowed and smiled as he scanned her card ; he was a bullet-headed man with shifty grey eyes, a dubious mouth, and a sledge-hammer manner. He knew her name well; Florian had already sung the American's praises to the astute manager. They sat down and talked. 174 LINNET With many indirect little feminine twists and turns, "Rue gradually got round to the real subject of her visit. She didn't approach 't straight, of course — what woman ever does? — by stray hints and roundabout roads she let Mr. Blades understand in dim outline she was to some extent interested — platonically interested — in the success of Will Deverill's Tyrolese operetta. Mr, Deverill, she explained, was merely a young poet of musical tastes, whom she had met last year at an hotel in the Tyrol — a friend of their mutual friend's, Mr. Wood, The manager smiled wisely with that dubious mouth. Rue saw he drew his own in- ference — and drew it wrong; he thought it was Florian in whom her interest centered, not the unknown poet. Indeed, Florian himself had done his very best already to produce that impression ; if you want to marry a rich wo- man, it's not a bad plan to let her friends and the world at large believe the matter's as good as settled already between you. So the manager smiled, and looked in- tensely wise, " Anything I can do for ?.ny friend of our friend Florian's," he said, politely, " I'm sure will give me the very greatest pleasure." Rue was not wholly unwilling he should make this mis- take ; she could ask the more easily the favor she had to beg on behalf of Will Deverill. With many further cir- cumlocutions, and many womanly wiles, she gradually let the bullet-headed manager ^e she was very anxious " Honeysuckle " should be i;uiy produced at an early date at the Duke of Edinburgh's. But Mr. Blades, for his part, like a man of the world that he was, was proof against all the smiles and blandishments of the pretty en- chantress. A beautiful woman is thrown away, to say the truth, upon a theatrical manager; they are his stock- in-trade ; he's accustomed to bargaining with them, bully- ing them, quarreling with them. He regards them mere- ly as a class of exceptionally exacting and irritating per- sons, who presume upon their good looks and their popu- larity with the public to excuse the infinite trouble and annoyance they give in their business relations. So Mr, Blades smiled again, this time a hard little mercantile smile, as of a man unimpressed, and answered briefly, in his sledge-hammer style, "Now, let's be f' vii- \vl*^h one another, at once, Mrs. Palmer. I run vhi.s (hcacer. not A WOMAN'S STRATAGEM 17s for the sake of hi^'h nrt, nor to oblige a lady, Imt on the vulgarest and ronitn(jnest commercial grounds — just to make my living, and get a fair percenlnge on the capital I invest in it. 1 judge by returns, not by literary merit or artistic value. If Air. Deverill's little piece seems likely to pav — why, of course. I'll produce it. If it don't, why, 1 won't. That's the long and the short of it! "• Rue seized h.er cue at once with American quickness. " Just so," she replied, catching him up very sharp, and going straight to the point ; " that's exactly why I've come here. I want }'ou to read this play very soon, and to say as a candid business man what you think of it. Then I want you to tell me what you'll take, money down, to pro- duce it at once, and to run it on your boards till you see whether it's likely to succeed or fail — if I give you a guar- antee, secured against bonds, to reimburse you in full for any loss you may sustain, say, by giving it the chance of a fortnight's production." It was a curious offer. The manager's shifty grey eyes ran her over with a sharp little stare of astonishment. Her directness amused him. " Well now," he said, " that's odd ; but it's business-like — for a woman." " You understand," Rue said, blushing crimson, and letting her eyelids drop once more, " 1 make this sug- gestion in strict confidence ; I don't want it talked about." " Certainly, certainly," Mr. Blades replied, with a scrutinizing glance. " Not even to our friend Florian ? " And he eyed her quizzingly. Rue's face flushed deeper still. ** Above all, not to him," she answered firmly, " But what do you say to my offer? Is it business or not? Does it seem to you pos- sible ? " The manager hesitated, and drummed with his finger on the desk before him. " Well, to tell you the truth, my dear lady," he answered, evasively, " I couldn't very well give you any opinion, good, bad, or indifferent, till I've read the manuscript, and considered it carefully. You see, a play's not quite like a book or picture ; a deal of capital's involved in its production ; and, besides, its suc- cess or its failure don't stand quite alone ; they mean so much in the end to the theD*^** It won't do for me to reckon only how rauny hundreas or thoubands I may pos- p^i 176 LINNET sibly lose on this or that particular v iture if it turns out badly; there's the indirect loss as wcJ to take into con- sideration. Every success in a house means success in future ; every failure in a house means gradual increase in the public coldness. It wouldn't pay me, you understand, if you were merely to offer me a big lump sum down to produce a piece with no chance of a run in it. I never produce anything for anybody on earth unless I believe myself there's really money in it. But I'll tell you what I'll do." and he brightened up most amiably ; " I'll read it this very day; and then, if I think it won't prejudice the Duke's to bring it out at once, why, . . . I'll consider whether or not I can accept your offer." " Oh. thank you ! " Rue cried, very gratefiilly indeed ; for she was a simple soul, in spite of her thousands. The manager drew himself up and looked stonily grave. He shook his bullet-head. This charge was most painful. It hurt his feelings as a business man that a pretty woman should even for one moment suppose he meant to make a concession to her. " You've nothing to thank me for," he answered, truth- fully ; and indeed she hadn't ; for his answer, after all, amounted merely to this : that if he thought the play likely to prove a success, he would generously permit the rich American to indemnify him beforehand against the off- chance of a failure. In other words if it turned out well, he stood to win all ; while if it turned out ill, it was Rue who stood to lose whatever was lost upon it. Nevertheless, after a few more preliminary arrange- ments. Rue drove off, not^ ill-satisfied with her partial suc- cess, leaving behind her many injunctions of profoundest secrecy with the blandly-smiling manager. As she dis- appeared down the road, Mr. Blades chuckled inwardly. Was he likely to tell any one else in the world, indeed, that he had even entertained so unequal a bargain ? He would keep to himself his own clever compact with the American heiress. But two days later, Rue's heart was made glad, when she came down to breakfast, by a letter from the manager, couched in politest terms, informing her that he had read Mr. Deverill's manuscript; that he thought on the whole there was possibly money in it; and that he would be pleased to talk over the question of its produc- A WOMAN'S STRATAGEM ^n tion on the basis of the arrangement she had herself pro- posed at their recent interview. Rue read it, overjoyed. In the innocence of her heart, she agreed to promise what- ever the astute Mr. Blades demanded. Moreover, this being a strictly confidential matter, she couldn't even sub- mit it to her lawyer for advice ; she was obliged to act for once on her own initiative. She longed to rush off the very moment it was settled and tell Will the good news ; but prudence and womanly reserve prevented her. How- ever, she had her reward none the less next day, when Will hurried round immediately after breakfast to an- nounce the splendid tidings which had come by that morn- ing's post, that Blades had accepted " Honeysuckle," with- out any reserve, and intended to put it in rehearsal forth- with at the Duke of Edinburgh's, His face beamed with delight ; Rue smiled contentment. She was pleased he should burst in upon her first of all the world in London with news of his good fortune ; that really looked as if he rather liked her ! And then, how sweet it was to feel she had managed it all herself, and he didn't know it. It was such a delightful secret that, womanlike, she longed to tell it to him outright — only that, of course, to divulge it would be to spoil the whole point of it. So she merely smiled a tranquil smile, to her own proud heart, and felt as happy as a queen about I^. 'Tis delicious to do some- thing for the man you love, and to know he doesn't even suspect you of doing it. . . . Some day, perhaps, she would be able to tell him. But not till he'd made a great name for himself. Then she might say to him with pride, at some tender moment. " Before the world found you out, Will, I knew what you were, and, all unknown to yourself, it was I who stretched out the first helping hand to your fortunes ! " It p.' CHAPTER XXIII A PROPHET indeed! While Will Deverill's operetta was still in rehearsal at the Duke of Edinburgh's, a little episode occurred at Rue's house in Hans Place, which was not without a certain weird influence of its own on the after-life of herself and her companions. Rue gave an At Home one night early in March, to which Florian and Will Deverill were invited. Will brought his sister with him — the sister who was married to an East End curate, and who had called upon Rue at her brother's bidding. " Well, what do you think of her to-night, Maud ? " Will asked a little anxiously as they stood alone for a minute or two in the middle of the evening. Mrs. Sartoris curled her lip. " Oh, she's pretty enough," she answered ; " pretty enough, after her fash- ion. I could see that the first time ; and she's got nice manners. She lights up well, too ; women of her age al- ways do light up well. They look better by night, even in the searching glare of these electric lamps, than in full broad sunshine. But, of course, she hasn't got quite the tone of our set; you couldn't expect it. A faded air of drapery clings about her to the end. That's the way witli these people; they may be ever so rich, they may be ever so fascinating — but a discriminating nose still scents trade in them somewhere." Will smiled a quiet smile of suppressed amusement. He didn't care to answer her. Rue's father, he knew, had been an episcopal clergyman in New York, and she herself, though she married a dry-goodsman, had been every bit as well bi ought up as Will and his sister. But *tis a sisterly way to say these disparaging things about women whom one's brother might be suspected of marry- ing. Will didn't mean to marry Rue, it is true ; but ^laud 178 A PROPHET INDEED ! 179 thought he might; and that idea alone was more than enough to give a caustic tone to her critical comments. The feature of the evening, it seemed, was to be a pe- culiar seance of a new American phenomenon, who had come over to Europe with a wonderful reputation for thought-reading, hypnotism, and what he was pleased to style " magnetic influences." Like most of her country- men and countrywomen, Rue had a sneaking regard, in the background of her soul, for mesmerism, spiritualism, psychic force, electrobiology, and the occult and myster- ious in human nature generally. She was one of those impressionable women, in short, who fall a ready prey to plausible impostors with voluble talk about ethereal vi- brations, telepathic energy, the odic fluid, and the rest of such rubbish, unless strong-minded male friends in- tervene to prevent them. The medium oti this occasion, it appeared, was one Joaquin Holmes, otherwise known as the Colorado Seer, who professed to read the inmost thoughts of man or woman by direct brainwaves, without contact of any sort. The guests that night had been specially invited to meet Mr. Holmes on this his first ap- pearance at a seance in London ; so about ten o'clock, all the world trooped down to the dining-room, which Flo- rian had cunningly arranged as a temporary lecture-hall, with seats in long rows, and an elevated platform at one end for the medium. " What an odd-looking man ! " Mrs. Sartoris exclaimed, as the Colorado Seer, in full evening diess, bowed a grace- ful bow from his i)lnco cm tin- plalforni "He's hand- some, though, isn t lie? Such wondtiful eyes! Juss look ! And such a Spanish complexion ! ' " A HidalgOj every inch ! " Florian assented gravely, nodding his head, and looking at him as he would have looked at a Velasquez. " That olivc-1)rown skin points back straight to Andalusia. It doesn't want his name to tell one at a glance that if his father was an American of English descent, his mother's folk must have emigrated from Cordova or Granada. I see a Moslem tinge in cheek and eye ; those dusky thin fingers are the Moor all over ! " " For Moor, read blackamoor," Colonel Quackenboss, the military attache to the American Legation, murmured half under his breath to his next-door neighbor. i8o LINNET And they were each of them right, in his own way and fashion. The Colorado Seer was a very handsome man, somewhat swarthier than is usual with pure-blooded Europeans. His eyes were large and dark and brilliant ; his abundant black hair fell loose over his brow with a graceful southern curl ; a heavy moustache fringed his upper lip ; he looked to the unsophisticated European eye like a pleasing cross between Buffalo Bill and a Castilian poet. But his Christian name of Joaquin and his south- ern skin had descended to him, not from Andalusian Hidalgos, but from a mother who was partly Spanish and partly negress, with a delicate under-current of Red Indian ancestry. As he stood there on the platform, how- ever, in his becoming evening dress, and flooded them with the light of his lustrous dark eyes — 'twas a trick of the trade he had learned in Colorado — every woman in the room felt instinctively to herself he was a superb creature, while every man admitted with a grudging smile that the fellow had at least the outward air of a gentle- man. The Seer, stepping forward with a genial smile, enter- tained them at first with some common little tricks of so- called thought-reading, familiar enough to all those who have ever attempted to watch the ways of that simple exhibition. He found pins concealed in ladies' skirts, and guessed the numbers of bank-notes in financiers' pockets. Florian's mouth curled incredulity; why, these were just the same futile old games as ever, the well-known and in- nocent little conjuring dodges of the Bishops and the Stuart Cumberlands! But after awhile, Mr. Joaquin Holmes, waking up all at once, proceeded to try some- thing newer and more original. A pack of cards was produced. To avoid all suspicion of collusion or trick- ery, 'twas a brand-new pack — observe there's no decep- tion — bought by Rue herself that afternoon in Bond Street. With much air of serious mystery, the Colorado Seer pulled off the stamped cover before their very eyes, gave the cards themselves to Will to shuffle, and then pro- ceeded to offer them to every member of the company one by one in order. Each drew a card, looked at it, and re- placed it in the pack. Instantly, the Seer in a very loud voice, without one moment's hesitation, announced it cor- A PROPHET INDEED ! i8i s was trick- decep- Bond lorado ly one Ind re- loud rectly as ten of spades, ace of <:lubs, five of hearts, or queen of diamonds. It was an excellent trick, and the I)crfornKr could do it equally well with ipen eyes or blind- folded ; he could offer the cards behind his back, after the pack had been shuffled and handed him unseen ; he could even succeed in the dark, he said, if the lights were low- ered, and each person in the company took his own card out to inspect it in the passage. "That looks like genuine thnught-reading,' Will was compelled to admit, thinking it . r in his own mind ; " but perhaps he forces his cards. One knows conjurers can do such wonderful things in the way of forcing." Instantly the Seer turned upon him with an air of in- jured innocence. "If you think there's any co' juring about this performance," he exclaimed, with much dig- nity, drawing himself up to his full height of six feet two, " you can offer them yourself, and allow each lady and gentleman in the room to pick as they choose for them- selves among them, I'll take each card, blindfold, as fast as they pick, hold it up behind my back, with my hands tied, without seeing it myself, and read off for you what it is by direct thought-transference." Will accepted the test — a fairly severe one ; and, sure enough, the Seer was right. Carefully blindfolded with one of those molded wraps, invented for the purpose, which prevent all possibility of looking down through the chinks, he yet took each card behind his back in one hand, held it up before their eyes without moving his head, and gave out its name distinctly and instantly. The audience was impressed. There was a touch of magic in it. But the Seer smiled blandly. " Oh, that's nothing," he murmured aloud, with a dep- recating little laugh ; " a mere matter of choosing be- tween fifty-two alternatives — which, after all, is easy. With Mrs. Palmer's consent," and he turned in a grace- fully deferential attitude to Rue, " I can show you some- thing a great deal more remarkable. Here are pencils and papers. Each lady or gentleman will please take a sheet as I hand them round. Write anything you like, in English, French, German or Spanish, on the piece of paper. Then fold it up, so, and put it into one of these envelopes gummed down and fastened. After that, as IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) LO ! I.I |50 ■^~ M^l tii ^ 12.2 '•2^ III '-^ Illi4 < 6' ► /] /. y ^ Sciences Corporation 33 WIST MAIN STRUT WIBSTM.N.Y. MSM (7I«)I72-4S03 ii; 182 LINNET this experiment requires very great concentration of thought " — he knitted his brows, and assumed an ex- pression of the intensest internal effort — '* with Mrs. Palmer's kind leave, we will turn out the electric light, which confuses and distracts one by revealing to the eye so many surrounding visible objects. And then, with- out breaking the envelopes in which you have enclosed the pieces of paper, I will read out to you, in the dark, what each of you has v/ritten." He spoke deliberately, with slow western American distinctness, though with a pleasing accent. That accent, superimposed on his native negro dialect, had cost him no small effort. The guests, half-incredulous, took the sheets of paper he distributed to them one by one, and wrote down a sentence or two, according to taste, after a little interval of whispered consultation. Then, by the Seer's direction, they folded the slips in two and placed them in their envelopes, each bearing outside the name of the person who wrote it. Florian collected the papers, all carefully gummed down, and handed them to the Seer, who stood ready to receive them at his place on the plat- form. Without one moment's delay, the lights were turned out. It was the instantaneousness, indeed, and the utter absence of the usual hocus-pocus, that dis- tinguished Mr. Joaquin Holmes's unique performance from the ordinary style of spiritualist conjuring. In a second, the Seer's voice rang out clear from his place: " First envelope, Mrs. Palmer, containing inscription in French — very prettily written: * La vie est brfive : Un peu d' amour, Un peu de r6ve, Et puis— bonjour. La vie est vaine : Un peu d'^spoir, Un peu de haine, Et puis— bonsoir.' " Extremely graceful verses ; I don't know the author. However, no matter! . . . Second envelope, Colonel Marchmont, containing inscription in English. ' The gen- eral immediately ordered an advance, and the gallant 21st, A PROPHET INDEED ! 183 regardless of danger, charged for the battery in mag- nificent style, sabring the enemy's gunners in a wild out- burst of military enthusiasm.' Very characteristic! A most soldierly choice. And boldly written . . . Third envelope, Mrs. Sartoris, — stop please! the lady's thoughts are wandering; kindly fix your attention for a moment. Madam, on the words you have given me. Ah, so ; that's better. — * The curfew tolls the knell of parting day; The lowing herd wmds slowly o'er the lea; The ploughman homeward wends ' — wends ? wends ? it should have been * plods ' ; but * wends ' is what you thought — ' The ploughman homeward wends his weary way. And leaves the world to darkness and to me.' Very appropri- ate; it's dark enough here! And I am the only speaker. Bend your minds to what you have written, please, or I may have to hesitate. Each think of your own. . . . Fourth envelope, Mr. Florian Wood, containing inscrip- tion : * We struggle fain to enlarge Our bounded physical recipiency, Increase our power, supply fresh oil to life, Repair the waste of age and sickness: no, It skills not ! life's inadequate to joy, As the soul sees joy, tempting life to take. An exceedingly appropriate quotation! I forget where it comes from. Try to concentrate your mind, Mr. Wood. Ah, now I know! — from Brr wning's Cleon." Florian's mellifluous voice broke the silence in the audi- tory. " This is wonderful ! " he said^ in his impressive tone, " most wonderful ! miraculous ! I never heard any- thing in my life to equal it." The Seer, noting his advantage, didn'i pause for a moment to answer the interruption, but, smiling a self- satisfied though invisible smile, which could be heard in his voice in spite of the dense darkness, went on still more rapidly, " Fifth envelope, Lady Martindale, a familiar quotation, * A thing of beauty is a joy forever.' Somewhat hackneyed that, but easy enough to read on he^ brain for that very reason. . . . Sixth envelope ; Sir Henry Martin- dale — I regret to say, a confirmed sceptic ; Sir Henry didn't believe I could read his thoughts, so he wrote down these 1 84 LINNET rude words: ' The performance is a sham, and the man's a humbug.' But the performance is not a sham, and the man's a thought-reader. Sir Henry also wrote three words below in the Russian character, which he learnt in the Crimea. Now, I don't know Russian, and I can t pretend to read thoughts in languages I don't understand, any more than I could pretend to repeat a conversation I happened to overhear on top of ar< omnibus in Japanese or Hottentot. But I can tell Sir Henry what he thought in English as he wrote those words; he thought to him- self, * That's a puzzler for him, that is ; I'll bet five quid that'll beat the fellow.' " The audience laughed at this unexpected sally. Sir Henry felt uncomfortable. But tlie Seer, unabashed, went on as before, without an instant's pause, to the suc- ceeding envelopes. He ran through them all in the same rapid manner, till he reached the last, " Miss Violet Far- rar, — kindly concentrate your thoughts on the subject, Sefiorita, — Miss Farrar wrote a couple of lines from Swinburne: 'Thou hast forgotten, O summer swallow, But the world shall end when I forget.* That's the last I received ! " He drew a deep sigh. Then without one instant interposed, " Turn up the lights, please," he said. " To show all's fair, I'll return you your envelopes." Will turned the light on again in a turmoil of surprise. He had never before seen anything that looked so like a genuine miracle. There stood the Seer, erect and smil- ing, with all the envelopes in a huddled heap on the little round table on the platform teside him. With a quiet air of triumph, he stepped down to the floor, and reading out the names as he walked along the rows, replaced in each outstretched hand — its own envelope, unopened. The visitors tore the covers off before his eyes, and found inside — their own manuscript, exactly as they had writ- ten it. It was a most convincing trick, and the Colorado Seer had good cause to be proud of the astounded way in which his company received it. A buj'^ of voices ran humming round the room for some minutes together as the Seer concluded. Every- A PROPHET INDEED ! 185 body hazarded some conjecture of his own, more or less inept, as to how the man did it. The younger ladies were mostly of opinion that he " must have a confederate " — though how a confederate could help him with this par- ticular trick, they didn't deign to explain, not having, in- deed, any clear picture of their own in their sapient heads as to the nature of the confederacy. They merely threw out the hint in the self-same expansive and generous spirit in which they are wont to opine that " it's done by elec- tricity," or, that " the thing has springs in it." Mr. Arthur Sartoris, the East End curate, and two old maids, with amiable profiles in a back row, were inclined to set it down to " cerebral undulations in the ethereal medium " — which, of course, would be competent to explain almost anything, if they only existed. Lady Martindale leaned rather towards the extremer view that " the man had deal- ings with a familiar spirit," and objected to take any fur- ther part in such doubtful proceedings. Sir Henry, while not venturing to offer any direct explanation, was yet re- minded at once of some very remarkable and surprising feats he had seen performed by a fakir in India, who had told him the name of his future wife, made a mango-tree grow and bear fruit before his eyes, and sent a boy to climb up a loose end of twine till he disappeared in space, whence he was precipitated in fragments a few minutes later, to get up and walk away one moment afterwards, at the first touch of the fakir's wand, as cool and uncon- cerned as if nothing had happened. Everybody had a theory which satisfied himself; and every theory alike seemed pure bosh to Will Deverill. To everybody's surprise, however, Florian's melodious voice, after that one interruption, took no further part in the brisk discussion. The world rather expected that Florian would intervene with some abstruse hypothesis of telepathic action, or enlarge on the occult influence of soul upon soul, without the need for any gross and pal- pable link of material connection. But Florian held his peace. He had an idea of his own, and he wasn't going to impart it for nothing to anybody. Only once did he speak. " The man has eyes in the back of his head," a lady had cried after one trick in profound astonishment. " Say, rather, the man has eyes in the tips of his Ill i86 LINNET I fingers," Florian corrected gravely. For he was no fool, Florian. The Seer heard him, and darted a strange glance at his face. This man Wood was too clever. The Seer must square him! The evening v*^ore av/ay, and conjecture died down. The Seer mixed with the throng in his private capacity, told good stories to the men with a strong Western flavor, said pretty things to the women with Parisian grace, and flashed his expressive eyes into theirs to point them. Everj'body allowed he was a most agreeable man, and everybody thought his performance " simply marvelous." Florian waited on the door-step as the Seer was leav- ing. " I'll walk home with you," he said, with an air of quiet determination. The Seer stared at him hard. " As you like," he an- swered, coldly; but it was clear from his tone he dis- trusted Florian. They walked round the corner for some yards in silence. Then Florian spoke first. " There was only one thing I didn't quite understand," he began, with a confidential air, " and that was how the dickens you managed to get those gummed envelopes open." The Seer stood still for a second, and fronted him. They were in a lonely street. " Now, you look here, Mr. Florian Wood," the American said quietly, dropping back all at once into his native dialect and his native accent, " you lay low this evening. You thought you spotted it. I saw you lay low, and I knew pretty well you meant to come round and have it out some time with me. Well, sir, what do you mean by insinuating to a gentleman like me that I broke those there envelopes? That's an impu- tation on my honesty and honor ; and out: West, you know, we answer questions like that only one way . . . with a six-shooter." He spoke with the menacing air of an angry bully. But Florian wasn't exactly the sort of man to be bullied ; small as he was, he did not lack for courap?. If Mr. Joaquin Holmes was tall and big-built, why, Florian was backed up by all the strength of the police of London. The Englishman smiled. "Yes, you do, out West, I know," he answered, calmly ; " but in London, that style's A PROPHET INDEED ! i8; very much out of fashion. We keep a poHce force on purpose to prevent it. Now, don't let's be two fools. I lay low, as you say. It you want me to go on lying low in future, you'll answer me sensibly, like a man of the world, and trust my honor. If you want me to expose you, you'll tell lies and bluster. You've had twenty pounds down from my friend Mrs. Palmer for this eve- ning's entertainment. That's first-rate pay. You can't earn it again, if your system's blown upon." The Coloradan darted a furtive side-glance at Florian. This sleek-faced, innocent-looking, high-flown little Eng- lishman was more dangerous, after all, than the Western- er imagined. But he blustered still for a while about his honor and his honesty; he was ashamed to throw up the sponge so easily. Florian listened, unmoved. All this talk fell flat upon him. At last, when the Seer had ex- hausted his whole stock of available indignation, Florian interposed once more, bland and suave as ever : " It's a very good trick," the small man said, smiling, " and I don't know how you managed that part about the enve- lopes. . . . Besides, I never met such delicacy of touch in my life before — in a sighted person ! " At that word, Joaquin Holmes gave a perceptible start. He saw its implications. It is the term which the blind in asylums or the like invariably apply to the outside world with normal vision. Florian noticed the little start, all involuntary as it was ; and the Seer in turn observed that he noticed it. No man can play the thought-reading or spiritualist game unless endowed with exceptional quickness of perception. " How did you know I'd ever been blind ? " he asked, quickly, taken aback for a moment, and making just that once an unguarded admission. I didn't know it," Florian answered, with equal frank- ness. " I didn't even guess it. But I saw at once you'd at least been bred and brought up among the blind. My own grandfather was blind, you see, and my uncle as well ; and I've inherited from them, myself, some germs of the same faculty. But you've got it stronger than any- one I ever saw in my life till now. . . . Besides, I want to know how you managed those envelopes. I hate being baffled. W'len I see a good trick, I like to under- |l;v i88 LINNET stand it. Remember, I have influence in the press and in Society. I can serve your purpose. But I make it the price of my lying low in future that you tell me the way you managed about the envelopes." The Seer seized his arm. " You're a durned smart chap," he said, with genuine admiration. " Nobody, even in America, ever guessed that trick; and we're smarter out there, I reckon, than the run of the old country. Come along to my rooms, and A^e'll ^alk this thing over." " No thank you," Florian answered, with a quiet little smile. " My friends wouldn't know where I'd gone to- night. Your hint about six-shooters is quite too preg- nant. But if you care to come home to my humble cham- bers in Grosvenor Gardens, and make terms of surrender, we can see this thing out over a whiskey and soda." CHAPTER XXIV THE ART OF PROPHESYING They walked on, side by side, to the house in Grosvenor Gardens. Florian let himself in with a latch-key, and rang the bell for his servant. While he waited, he wrote a name on the back of a card, carelessly. " Look here, Barnes," the butterfly of Society said, as his eminently respectable man-of-all-work entered ; " this is Mr. Joaquin Holmes," — and he handed him the card — ** you can read the name there. He comes from America. I particu- larly desire you to remark Mr. Joaquin Holmes's appear- ance and features. You may be called upon to identify him." Then he turned with his bland smile to the dis- comfited Seer, and observed, in that unfailingly honeyed voice of his, " You must excuse me, Mr. Holmes, but as a gentleman from out V»est, addicted to the frequent use of the six-shooter, I'm sure you'll appreciate the deli- cacy of my motives for this little precaution. You can go now, Barnes. A mere matter of form, so that, in case your evidence should be needed in court, you'll be able to swear to Mr. Holmes's identity, and give evidence that he was here, in my company, this evening." Barnes glanced at the card, and retired to the door, discreetly. The Seer flung himself down in an easy-chair with true Western sangfroid. He knew he was detected ; but he wasn't going to give up the game so soon, without seeing how much Florian really understood of his secret and his methods. Meanwhile, Florian produced a couple of pretty little old-fashioned stoneware jugs and some Venetian glasses from a dainty corner cupboard. A si- phon stood on a Moorish tray at his side by the carved Bombay black-wood fireplace. " Caledonian or Hiber- nian? " Florian asked turning to his visitor, with his most charming smile — " I mean, Scotch or Irish ? " " Thanks, Scotch," the Coloradan answered, relaxing 189 190 LINNET « his muscles a little, as he began to enter into the spirit of his entertainer's humor. Florian poured it out gracefully, and touched the knob of the siphon. Then he handed it, foaming, still bland as ever, to the hesitating American. " Now, let's be frank with one another, Mr. Holmes," he said, with cheerful promptitude. " I don't want to hurt you. You're a very smart man, and I admire your smartness. I lay low to- night, as you justly observed, and I'm game to lie low — if you'll take my terms — in future. I'm not going to blow upon you, and I'm not going to stand in the way of your success in life; but I just want to know — how did you manage those envelopes ? " " If you think it's a trick, why, the envelopes would be a long chalk the easiest part of it," the Seer responded, with a dry little cough. '* The real difficulty, of course, would be to read in the dark what folks had written. And that's the part, I claim, that I do myself by pure force of thought — in short, by psychic transference." He stared hard at his host. Their eyes met searching- ly. It was seldom that Florian did a vulgar or ungrace- ful thing ; but, as Mr. Joaquin Holmes uttered those high- sounding words, and looked him straight in the face with great solemnity, Florian gravely winked at him. Then he raised that priceless Venetian glass goblet to his curl- ing lips, took a long pull at the whiskey without speaking a word, and went over to a desk by the big front window. From it he took out a pack of cards, and returned with them in his hand. " Shuffle them," he said, briefly, to the uneasy Seer, in his own very tone. And the American shuffled them. Florian picked one out at random, and held it before him, face down for some seconds in silence. " Now, I can't do this trick like you," he said, in a very business- like voice ; " but I can do it a little. Only, I'm obliged to feel the card all over with my fingers like this ; and I'm often not right as to the names of the suits, though I can generally make a good shot at the pips and numbers. This is a three that I've drawn — I think, the three of spades ; but it may be clubs — I don't feel quite certain." He turned it up. Sure enough. It was a three, but of THE ART OF PROPHESYING 191 clubs not spades. " I'll try another," he said, unabashed. And he drew one and felt it. " This is a nine of diamonds," he continued, more con- fidently, after a moment's pause. The American took it from him, without turning up its face,, drew his fore- finger almost imperceptibly over the unexposed side, and answered without hesitation, " Yes ; you're right — that's it — the nine of diamonds." Florian pulled out a third, and felt it again carefully with the tips of his fingers. " It's a picture card this time," he went on : " King, Queen, or Knave of Hearts, I'm not sure which. I'm no good at pictu'^e cards. They're all a blur to me. I can tell them only by the single pips in the corners." The Seer took it from him hardly touching it percep- tibly. " That's not a heart ! " he answered in a sharp voice, without a second's hesitation ; " that's the Jack of Spades ! You're right as to the general shape, but you've neglected the handle." He turned it up as he spoke. The Knave of Spades in- deed it was. Florian corrected him solemnly. " In good English society," he murmured, still polite and still inscrutable, " we say Knave, not Jack. Remem- ber that in future. To call it a Jack's an odious vulgar- ism. I merely mention this fact because I notice how cleverly you've managed to acquire the exact little tricks of accent and manner which are sure to take with an English audience. I siiould be sorry to think a man of your brains, and a man of your moral character — positive or negative — should be thought the less of in this town of London for so very unimportant a matter of detail." " Thank you," the Seer responded quietly, with an- other searching look. " I believe, Mr. Florian Wood, we two understand each other. But mind you " — and he looked very wise and cunning — " I didn't pass my finger over the cards at Mrs. Palmer's." " So I saw," Florian replied, with unabated good- humor. " But I looked at them close — and I noticed they were squeezers. What's more, I observed you took them always by the left-hand corner (which was the right hand, upside down) whenever they were passed to you. That 192 LINNET gave me the clue. 1 saw you could read, with one touch of your finger, the number and suit marked small in the corner. I recognized how you did it, though I couldn't come near it myself. Your sense of touch must be some- thing simply exquisite." The American's mouth curled gently at the corners. Those words restored his confidence. He took up a casual book from the table at his side — 'iwas the first edition of Andrew Lang's " Ballades in Blue China " — for Florian, as a man of taste, adored first editions. " Look here," the Seer said, carelessly. He turned it face downwards and opened it at random. Then, passing one finger al- most imperceptibly over the face of a page, he began to read, as fast as the human voice can go, the very first verses he chanced to light upon. " Ballade of Primitive Man." " He lived in a cave by the seas; He lived upon oysters and foes; But his list of forbidden degrees An extensive morality shews. Geological evidence goes To prove he had never a pan, But he shaved with a shell when he chose. ' Twas the manner of primitive Man.' " He read it like print. Florian leaned back in his chair, clasped his dainty hands on his small breast before him, and stared at the Seer in unafifected astonishment. " I knew you did it that way," he said, after a pause, nodding his head once or twice ; " I felt sure that was the trick of it ; but now I see you do it, why, it's more wonderful, al- most, than if it were nothing more than a mere ordinary miracle. Miracles are cheap ; but sleight of hand like this — well, it's priceless, priceless ! " " Now, you're a man of honor," the Seer said, leaning forward anxiously. " You've found me out fair and square, and I don't deny it. But you're not going to round on me and spoil my business, are you? It's taken me years and years to work up this sense by constant prac- tice ; and if I thought you were going to cut in right now, and peach upon me — why, hanged if I don't think, witness or no witness, I'd settle this thing still, straight oflf, with THE ART OF PROPHESYING 193 ; touch in the oukhi't I some- rorners. I casual ition of Florian, : here," ■nwards ij^er al- egan to ivy first lis chair, )re him, mt. "I Inodding trick of jrful, al- )rdinary Hke this leaning tair and joing to 's taken lint prac- rht now, witness )flf, with a six-shooter. Yes, sir — r — r, I'd settle it straight off, I would, and let 'em scrag me if they would for it ! " Florian stirred the fire languidly with a contemplative poker (a poker's a very good weapon to fall back upon, one knows, in case of necessity). " That'd be a pity," he drawled out calmly, in an unconcerned voice. " I wouldn't like you to make such a nasty mess on my Damascus carpet. This is a real old Damascus, observe, and I paid fifty guineas for it. It's a nice one, isn't it? Good color, good pattern ! Besides, as you say, I'm a man of honor. And I've a fellow-feeling, too — being clever myself — for all other clever fellows. I've promised you not to peach, if only you'll tell me how you managed those envelopes. That's a mere bit of ordinary everyday conjuring; it's nothing to the skill and practice required to read, as you do, with the tips of your fingers." The Seer drew a long breath, and passed his dark hand wearily across his high brown forehead. " That's so ! " he answered, with a sigh. " You may well say that." Then he dropped spontaneously into his own Western manner. " See here, stranger," he said, eyeing Florian hard, and laying one heavy hand on his entertainer's arm ; *' it's bred in the bone with me to some extent ; but all the same, it's cost me fifteen years of prac- tice to develop it. I come of a blind family, I do ; father was blind, and mother as well ; made their match up at the Indiana State Asylum. Grandfather was blind in mother's family, and two aunts in father's. / was born sighted ; but at five year old I was taken with the cataract. They weren't any great shakes at the cataract in Colorado where I was raised'; I was fifteen year old before they tried to couch it. So I learned to read first with embossed print on Grandfathers old blind Boston Bible. I learned to read first-rate; that was as easy as ABC, for the tips of my fingers were always sensitive. I learnt to make mats a bit, too, and to weave in colors. Weaving in colors develops the sensitiveness of the nerves in the hand ; you get to distinguish the different strands by the feel, and to know whereabouts you're up to in the pat- tern." "And at fifteen you recovered your sight?" Florian murmured reflectively, still grasping the poker. 194 LINNET J 'P'^ I iliii " Yes, sir — r — r ; at fifteen they took me to New York and got my eyes couched there. As soon as ever I could see, I began to learn more things still with the tips of my fingers ; my eyes sort of helped me to interpret what I felt with them. Pretty soon I saw there was money in this thing. People in Colorado didn't care to play poker with me ; they found out I'd a wonderful notion what was printed on a card by just drawing my finger, like this, over the face of it. I see you're a straight man, and haven't got many prejudices ; so I don't mind telling you now my first idea was to go in for handling the cards as a profession. Howe\tr, I soon caught on that that wasn't a good game; people in our section observed how I worked it, and it was apt to lead in the end to bowies and other unpleasantness. Several unpleasantnesses occurred, in fact, in Denver City, before I retired from that branch of the business. So then I began to reflect this thought- reading trick would come in more handy ; one might do a bit at the cards now and again for a change; but if one tried it too often, it might land one Pt last in free quarters at the public expense ; and the thought-reading's safer and more gentlemanly any way. So I worked at learning to read, as time afforded, till I could read a j . Inted book as easy with my fingers as I could read it with my eyes. It took me ten years, I guess, to bring that trick to perfec- tion." " You made us write with a pencil, I noticed," Florian interposed, with a knowing smile. " That's easier to read, of course, for a pencil digs in so." The Seer regarded him with no small adm.iration. " You're a smart man, and no mistake, sir," he answered, emphatically. " That's just how I do it. I read it from the back, where it's raised into furrows, in relief as it were, by the digging-in ; I read it backwards. I gave 'em each a pad with the paper, you may have noticed. That pad supplies just the right amount of resistance. I had to stop once or twice to-night, where T couldn't read a sentence, and fill in the space meanwhile with .1 little bit of patter about concentrating their thoughts upon it, and that sort of nonsense. Mrs. Sartoris's hand was precious hard to decipher, and there was one young lady who pressed so light, she almost licked me." THE ART OF PROPHESYING 195 w York I could s of my what I loney in .y poker hat was ike this, lan, and [ing you rds as a t wasn't how I vies and ccurred, t branch thought- ght do a It if one quarters afer and rnrng to book as yes. It perfec- "lorian to read, iration. iswered, it from ef as it ave 'em That I had read a ittle bit it, and )recious ly who t( And the envelopes ? " Florian asked once more. The Seer smiled disdainfully. " Why, that's nothing," he answered, with a contemptuous curl of the lip. " Any fool could do that ; it's as easy as lying. The lower side- flap of the envelopes is hardly fastened at all, with just a pin's head of gum," — he drew one from his pocket — " See here," he said ; " it's got a bit left dry to wet and fasten afterwards. I draw out the paper, so, and read it with my finger-; then I push it back, gum down again, and pull out the next one. It's the rapidity that tells, and it's that that takes so many years of practice." ** But Browning's Cleon? " Florian exclaimed. " And Sir Henry Martindale's having learnt the Russian charac- ter in the Crimea? He toid me it was there he picked it up himself. How on earth did you get at those, now ? " The Seer stretched out his legs with a self-satisfied smirk, and took a pull at his whiskey. " See here, my dear sir," he said, stroking his smooth chin placidly ; " a man don't succeed in these walks of life unless he's got some nous in him to start with. He's bound to observe, and remember, and infer, a good ueal ; he's bound to have an eye for character, and be a reader of faces. Now, it happens you wrote those self-same lines in Mrs. Palmer's album ; and I chanced to read them there while I waited for her in the drawing-room this very morning. A man's got to be smart, you bet. and look out for coincidences, if he's going to do much in occult science to astonish the public. Well, I've noticed every one has certain pet quo- tations of his own, which he uses frequently; and you'd be surprised to find how often the same quotation turns up, time after time, in these psychical experimi^nts. * The curfew tolls the knell,' or * Not a drum was heard,* are pretty sure to be given six times out of seven that one holds a seance. But yours was a new one ; so I learnt it by heart, and observed you set it down to Br. awning's Cleon, As for the Russian character — well, where was an English officer likely to learn it except in the Crimea? That was risky, of course ; I might have been mistaken ; but one bad shot don't count against you, while a good one carries conviction straight off to the mind of your sub- ject." Florian paused, and considered. Before the end of il'l 196 LINNET the evening, indeed, he had learnt a good many things about the trade of prophet , -md Mr. Joaquin Holmes had taker, incidentally, every drop as much whiskey as was good for his constitution. When at last he rose to go, he clasped Florian's delicate hand hard. " You're a straight man, I believe, stranger," he said, significantly, " and I'm sure you're a smart one. But mind this from me, Mr. Florian Wood, if ever you round on me, Colorado or Lon- don, the six-shooter'll settle it." Florian smiled and pressed his hand. *' I don't care that for your six-shooter," he answered., calmly, with a resonant snap of his tiny left forefinger. " But I don't want to spoil a man's prospects in life when he's taken fifteen years to make a consummate rc~ue of himself. You're perfect in your way, Mr. Holmes, and I adore per- fection. If ever I breathe a single word of this to my dearest friend — well, I give you free leave to whip out that six-shooter you're so fond of bragging about." i 4'fl CHAPTER XXV A DRAMATIC VENTURE Among the minor successes of that London season^ all the world reckoned the Colorado Seer's Psycho-physical Entertainment at the Assyrian Hall in Bond Street, and Will Deverill's dainty operetta, " Honeysuckle," at the Duke of Edinburgh's Theater in Long Acre. The Seer, indeed, had been well advertised beforehand by the Morn- ing Post and other London dailies, which gave puffs pre- liminary of his marvelous performance, " as privately ex- hibited to a select audience at Mrs. Palmer's charming and hospitable residence in Hans Place, Chelsea." A well-known society writer, with a lingering love of the occult and the supernatural, saw in Mr. Joaquin Holmes's abtruse gifts " a genuine case of Second Sight, and a curious . modern parallel to the most famous feats of the Delphic oracle and the Indian Yogis." The Spectator suggested in a learned article that " Mahatmas were about " ; the Daily News averred that " Nothing like Mr. Holmes's extraordinary powers had been seen on earth since the Egyptian magicians impiously counterfeited the miracles of Moses and Aaron before the throne of Pha- raoh." Every one of the accounts particulaly insisted on the presence at the first trial of Mr. Florian Wood, the distinguished musical and dramatic critic; whose in- most thoughts the Seer had read offhand like an open book, and whose quotations from little-known and un- popular sources he had instantly assigned to their proper origin. But when Florian himself was questioned on the subject, he shook his head with an air of esoteric knowl- edge, put two soft white fingers to his delicate lips, and smiled mysteriously. To say the truth, Florian loved a mystery. It flattered his sense of personal importance. Nay, he would almost have joined Mr. Joaquin Holmes as a confederate in his little tricks for pure love of mystifi- 197 198 LINNET si cation, were it not for a wholesome and restraining dread that others miglit find them out as he himself had done. So the Seer, thus well and cheaply advertised by anticipa- tion, made a hit for the moment, as dozens of such quacks have done before and since, from Home and Bishop to the Little Georgia Magnet. As for Will Deverill's play, the first night was crowded. All London was there,, in the sense that the Savage, the Garrick, and the Savile give to all London. Rue had taken tickets for stalls with reckless extravagance, and be- stowed them right and left, as if on the author's behalf, to every influential soul among her fine acquaintance. Florian whipped up a fair number of first-nighters of the literary clique, and not a few great ladies from Belgravia drawing-rooms. The audience was distinctly and decidedly favorable. But not all the packed houses that ever were can save a bad play, if bad it is, from condign damnation. The incorruptible pit and the free and independent electors cf the gallery are no respecters of persons, in their critical capacity. Fortunately, however, as it happened, Will's play was a good one. It didn't take the audience by storm at the first hearing, but it pleased and satisfied them. One or two of the melodies had a catchy ring; one or two of the scenes were both brilliant and pathetic. The house en- cored all the principal tunes; and when the curtain fell on virtue triumphant, in the person of Honeysuckle, vocif- erous cries arose on either side foi * Author ! Author ! " Will sat in a stage box, throughout the whole perform- ance, with Florian, Rue, his sister, Mrs. Sartoris, and her husband, the amiable East End curate. It was a three-act piece. As far as the end of the second act, Maud Sartoris was delighted ; it was a distinct success, and Rue was very well pleased. Maud thought that was good; after all, whether she " smelt of drapery " or not, it's well for one's brother to produce a favorable impression on a woman with a fortune of seven hundred thousand. But the third act, she felt sure, was distinctly inferior to the two that preceded it. The said as much to Rue. while Will, trem- bling with excitement from head to foot, slipped oflf to make his expected bow before the curtain. At those words of hers, Rue turned pale. She had A DRAMATIC VENTURE 199 thought so all through, though she would hardly acknowl- edge it, even to herself, and she feared in her own heart she knew the reason. Could Will have written the first two acts during those happy days when his head was stuffed full of Linnet at Meran, and gone on with *-he third in a London lodging after he learned of her marriage to Andreas Hausberger? Rue more than half-suspected that obvious explanation — for Honeysuckle was Linnet — and the thought disquieted her. " You're quite right," Florian interposed, with his airy eloquence. '* The first two acts are good — distinctly good. Will wrote them in the Tyrol. The third's a poor thing — mere fluff and feather : oh, what a falling off was there ! It was written in London! But who can sing aright of Arcady m the mud of Mayfair? Who can sing of Zion by the willows of Babylon? Will drew his first inspira- tion from the sparkling air of Meran ; it faded like a mist with the mists ot the Channel." " The audience doesn't seem to think so," Rue put in, somewhat anxiously, as a hearty round of applause greeted Will by the footlights. *' They feel it's all right. They're evidently satisfied, on the whole, with the nature of the dcnoument/' " If you look at the papers to-morrow morning," Florian answered, carelessly, " '/ou'll find every candid critic dis- agrees with the audience and agrees with Mrs. Sartoris. But what matter for that! It's a very good play, with some very good tunes in it ; and the actors have made it. I really didn't think our dear friend Will could do any- thing so good — till I saw it interpreted. I call the recep- tion, on the whole, most promising." Rue felt positively annoyed that Florian should speak so condescendingly of Will's beautiful music. He damned it with faint praise, while Rue herself felt for it a genuine enthusiasm. For she knew it was good, — all except that third act, — and even there she saw touches of really fine composition. In a minute or two more, Will came back to them radiant. Florian boarded him at once. " Ten thousand congratulations, dear boy," he cried affectedly. " We're all delighted. Laurel wreaths for the victor ! Bays drape 200 LINNET u your lute. Everybody's been saying the first two acts are a triumphal progress, though the third, we agree, fails to sustain the attention — flags in interest somewhat." Will colored up to his eyes. Rue noted the blush ; her heart sank at sight of it. " I knev/ it was weak myself," he admitted, a little shamefacedly. " The inspiration died down. Perhaps it was natural. You see, Maud," he went on, turning round to his sister as to a neutral person, and avoiding Rue's eye, " I wrote and composed the first two acts at Innsbruck and Meran, under the immediate in- fluence of the Tyrolese air and the Tyrolese music; they welled up in me in the midst of peasant songs and cow- bells. The third act, I had to manufacture at my rooms in Craven Street. Surroundings, of course^ make a deal of difl^erence to this sort of thing. 1 was in the key there, and out of it in London. Pumped-up poetry and pumped- up music are poor substitutes after all for the spontaneous article." He didn't dare to look at Rue ar. he spoke those words. He was conscious all the while, let him boggle ;is he might, that she knew the real reason fcr the failure of the denou- ment. And he was conscious, too, though he was a modest man, that Rue would ieel hurt at the effect Linnet's marriage had had upon his music. As for Rue herself, poor girl, her face was crimson. To think she should have done so much, end wronged her modesty so far with Mr. Wildon Blades to get Wil's operetta put on the stage that evening; to think she should have riskeu her own money to ensure its success, and then to find it owed its inspiration wholly and solely to the charms of her peasant rival, Linnet ! Rue was more than merely vexed ; she was shamed and humiliated. Will's triumph was turned for her into gall and bitterness. His heart, after all, was still fixed on his cow-girl ! They drove home together in Rue's luxurious brougham to Hans Place, Chelsea — Mr. Sartoris and Florian fol- lowing close in a hansom. The party were engaged to sup at Rue's. Florian had invited them, indeed, to a banquet at Romano's as more strictly in keeping with the evening's entertainment ; but Maud Sartoris had objected to such a plan as " improper," and likely to damage dear Arthur's prospects. So at Rue's they supped. But, in spite of A DRAMATIC VENTURE 201 Will's success, and his health which they drank in Rue's finest champagne, with musical honors, the party some- how lacked go and spirit. Will was dimly conscious in his own soul of having unwittingly behaved rather ill to Rue; Rue was dimly conscious of harboring some deep- seated but infinite resentment towards Will and Linnet. It was some consolation, at least, to know that the girl was now decently married and done for; sooner or later, for certain, such a man as Will Deverill was sure to get over a mere passing fancy for a handsome up-standing Tyrol ese peasant-girl. After supper, AA'^ill Deverill and the Sartorises went home in a party. But Florian lingered late. This was an excellent opportunity. Rue was annoyed with Will, and therefore all the more likely to accept another suitor. He gazed around the room — that little palace of art he had decorated with such care for his soul to dwell in. " Upon my word, Rue," he murmured at last, after some desul- tory talk, glancing around him complacently, " I'm proud of this place; I never knew before what a decorator I was. It's simply charming." He gazed at her fixedly. " It's the sweetest home in all London," he went on in a rapt voice, " and it's inhabited by the sweetest and bright- est creature in the whole of Christendom. I sometimes think, Rue, as I gaze round this house, how happy I should be — if I too lived in it." For a moment, Rue stared at him without quite under- standing what he meant to convey by this singular intima- tion. Then all at once it flashed across her. In spite of her distress, a smile stole over her face. She held out her hand frankly. " Good night, Florian," she said, in a very decided tone. " Let me urge upon you to be content with your chambers in Pimlico. You're a delightful and always most amusing friend ; I hope you're not going to make your friendship impossible for me. I like you very much, in your own sort of way; but if ever you re-open that subject again, . . well, I'm afraid I could give you no further opportunity of admiring your own handicraft in this pretty litde house of mine. That's why I say good-night to you now so plainly. It's best to be plain — best to understand one another, once for all, and for ever." Two minutes later, a dejected creature named Florian 202 LINNET Wood found himself walking disconsolate, with his um- brella up, on the sloppy wet flags of ill-lighted Sloane Street. He had sustained a loss of seven hundred thou- sand pounds on a turn of fortune's wheel, at an inauspi- cious moment. And Rue, with her face in her hands by the fire, was saying to herself with many tears and sighs that, Linnet or no Linnet, she never would and never could love anyone in the world except that dear Will Deverill. illil! ;T, " CHAPTER XXVI A WOMAN S HEART The papers next morning, with one accord, were al- most unanimous in their praise of Honeysuckle. Will's operetta didn't set the Thames on fire, to be sure — a first work seldom does — b"t it secured such an amount of modest success as decided him to change his plans largely for the future. It was certain, now, that he might take himself seriously as a musical purveyor. So he began to drop off to some extent from the hack work of journalism, and devote his energies in earnest to his new task In life as a playwright and composer. Rue had nothing to pay for her guarantee of Honeysuckle; on the contrary. Will received a very solid sum for his royalties on the run through the remainder of that season. He never knew, indeed, how much he had been indebted to the pretty American's not wholly isinterested act of kindness; for Mr. Blades kept his word ; and, in spite of what he said, Rue's timely intervention had decided him not a little in accepting that first piece by an unknown author. Thus, during the next few years, as things turned out, Will's position and prospects improved very rapidly. He was regarded as one of our most rising composers ; critics spoke of him as the sole representative and restorer of the serious English poetical opera. Monetary troubles no longer oppressed his soul ; he had leisure to write — and to write, if he would, the thing that ple.ased him. His posi- tion was secured — so much so, indeed, that judicious mammas gave him frequent invitations to their gayest At Homes and garden parties. But he successfully avoided all snares so set for him. Many people expressed no little surprise that so nice a young man — and a poet to boot — with a position like his, and such excellent Principles, should refrain from marriage. Society expects that every man will do his duty ; it intends him to marry as soon as 203 204 LINNET Iili!!liilll1' iillli he has means to relieve it becomingly of one among its many superfluous daughters. But, in spite of Society, Will still remained single, and met all the casual feelers of interested acquaintances as to the reasons which in- duced him so to shirk his duty as a British citizen with a quiet smile of self-contained resolution. Rue came to London now for each succeeding season. Will was much at her house, and a very real friendship existed between them. Busybodies wondered, indeed, that those two young people, who were so thick together, didn't stop scandal's mouth by marrying as they ought to do. The busybodies could see no just cause or impedi- ment why they should not at once be joined together in holy matrimony. The young woman was rich ; the young man was a genius. She was " mad for him," every one said, in every one's usual exaggerated phraseology; and as for him, though perhaps he wasn't quite so wildly in love, yet he liked her so well, and was so often in her com- pany, that it would surely be better to avoid whispers at once by marrying her offhand, like the earl in the ** Bab Ballads," " quite reg'lar, at St. George's ! " The busy- bodies were surprised he didn't see it so himself ; it really was almost somebody's duty, they thought, to suggest the idea to him. But perhaps Mrs. Palmer's money was strictly tied up; in which case, of course — Society broke off short. and shrugged its sapient shoulders. To some extent, in fact, Will agreed with them him- self. He almost fancied he would have proposed to Rue — if he wasn't so fond of her. As he sat with her one evening by the drawing-room fire at Hans Place, before the lights were turned on, during blind-man's holiday, he said to her suddenly, after a long, deep pause, " I daresay. Rue, you sometimes wonder why it is I've never tried to ask you to marry me." Rue gave a little start of half-tremulous surprise. He could see how the color mounted fast to her cheek by the glow of the firelight. She gave a faint gasp as she an- swered candidly, with American frankness, " Well, to tell you the truth. Will, I've fancied once or twice you were just going to do it." Will looked across at her kindly. She was very charm- ing. " I won't be cruel enough, Rue," he said, leaning A WOMAN'S HEART 205 forward to her like a brother^ " to ask you what answer you meant to give, if I'd done as you expected. I hope you won't think nie conceited if I say I half believe I know it already. And that's just why I want to tell you now the reason that has prevented me from ever asking you. If your nature were a little less deep, and a little less womanly than it really is, I might have asked you long ago. But, Rue, you know — 1 feel sure you know — how deeply I loved that other woman. I love her still, and I won't pretend to deny it. I've waited and wondered whether in time her image might fade out of my heart; but it never has faded. She's another man's wife, and probably I shall never see her again ; yet I love her as dearly and regret her as much as I did on the day when I first heard she'd thrown herself away for life upon Andreas Hausberger." *' I've felt sure you did," Rue answered, with downcast eyes. "I've felt it. Will — and for that very reason, I've wondered all the less you didn't ask me." Will looked across at her again. She was beautiful as she sat there with the glow of the fire on her pensive fea- tures. " Dear Rue," he said, softly, " you and I are no mere children. We know our own minds. We're grown man and woman. We can venture to talk freely to one another of these things, without the foolish, childish non- sense of false shame or false blushes. In spite of Linnet, I'd ha 'e asked you long ago to be my wife — if I hadn't respected and admired you so deeply. But I feel you're not a woman who could ever put up with half a man's heart, or half a man's confidence; and half my heart is all I could give you. I love Linnet still, and I shall always love her. I never shall cease to feel an undying regret that / didn't marry her, instead of that fellow Haus- berger. Now, there are women not a few I might still have asked to marry me, in spite of that regret ; but you're not one of them. I love you better than I ever loved any- one else on this earth — anyone else, but Linnet; and, therefore, I don't ask you to marry a man who could give you a second place only in his affections." The tears stood dim in Rue's swimming eyes. She looked at him steadily, and let them trickle one by one down her cheeks, unheeded. " Dear Will," she answered 206 LINNET him back, with equal frankness, '* it was kind of you to speak, and I'm glad you've spoken. It'll make our re- lations all the easier In luture! I guessed how you felt; I guessed it all long ago; but I'm glad, all the same, to have heard from your own lips the actual facts of it. And, Will, you quite rightly interpret my feelings. I'm an American at hfeart, and, you know, we Americans are very exacting in matters of affection. Some savage strain of monopoly exists in us still. I can't help it. I acknowl- edge it. I won't deny to you " — and she stretched out her hand quite frankly, and let him hold it in his own for a few brief moments — " I won't deny that I'm very fond indeed of you. If you could have given me your whole heart, I would have accepted it gratefully. I admired you with a deep admiration from the v^^ry first day I ever met you. I loved you from the time we sat together on the Lanser Kopf that afternoon at Innsbruck. I'm not ashamed to tell you so — nay, rather, dear, I'm proud of it ; for, Will, you're a man any woman might be proud to waste her love upon. But much as I love you, much as I admire you, I never could accept you if you feel like that. As an American born, with my monopolist instincts, I must have a whole man to myself all alone — or I won't have any of him." " I knew it," Will answered, caressing her hand with his fingers, and bending over it chivalrously. " And that's why I never have ventured to ask you. But I've loved you all the same. Rue — as one loves the woman who stands best of all . . . save one ... in one's affections." Rue withdrew her hand gently. Her tears were falling faster. " Well, now," she said, with a quiet sigh, " we can be friends in future — all the better, I hope, for this little explanation. I'm rich, of course, Will ; and a great many men, circumstanced as you were, would have been glad to marry me for the sake of my money. I liked you all the more, I like you the more to-day, in that that has never counted for one moment with you. If you'd been a mercenary man, you'd have dissembled and pretended: you need never have let me see how much you loved that girl ; or, if you had, you might have led me to suppose you had gradually forgotten her. . . . Dear friend " — and A WOMAN'S HEART 207 she turned to him once more with a sudden burst of un- controllable feeling — " we are man and woman, as you say, not boy and girl ; so why should I be ashamed to open my whole heart to you? You've told me the truth, like a man ; why shouldn't I tell you the truth, in return, like a woman? I will. I can't help it. I have waited and watched and thought often to myself, * In time, he must surely, surely get over it. He must cease to love her ; he can never really have loved her so much as he imagines ; he must turn at last to me, when he forgets all about her.* So I waited and watched, and, month after month, I thought at last you must surely begin to forget her. But, month after month, I have seen you loved her still; and while you loved her still, . . . Will, Will, dear Will, I didn't want you to ask me." Will seized her hand once more, and kissed it tenderly. " Oh, how good you are ! " he cried, in a very melting voice. " Rue, do you know, when you talk like that, you make me love you ! " '' But not better than hcrf " Rue murmured, softly. Will couldn't lie to her. " No ; not better than her," he answered slowly, in a very low voice. "If it were otherwise, I'd have asked you this very minute, dear sister." Rue rose and faced him. The firelight llickered red on her soft white dress ; he could see by its bright glow the tears still trickling slow down those full round cheeks of hers. " After this, Will, I must go," she said. " Don't come again to-morrow. Next week, you may call if you like, some afternoon, casually; but for Heaven's sake, please, don't refer to this interview. I have only one thing to say, and when I've said it, I must run from you. Re- member, I'm a woman ; my pride is fighting hard against my love to-night — and, if I let love win, I should for ever despise myself. As long as you live, don't speak to me of this matter again, unless you speak to say, * Rue, Rue, I've forgotten her.' If ever that day comes — " and she flushed rosy red — " you have my answer already ; you know you can claim me." She moved over to the door, with hurried step and beating heart, hardly able to trust herself. With a true sense of delicacy, Will abstained from opening it. He 2o8 LINNET stood on the hearth-rug, irresolute, and just watched her depart; he felt, in the circumstances that course was the more respectful. With her fingers on the handle. Rue paused, and looked round again. *' I wouldn't have said so much, even now," she faltered, " if it weren't for this — that I feel you're the one man I've ever met in my life to whom the question of my money was as dust in the balance. You speak the truth, and I know I can trust you. If ever you can say to me, * I love you better now, Rue, than I ever loved any- one,' I am yours : then take me ! But till that day comes, if come it ever does, let us only be friends. Never speak to me again, for Heaven's sake, never speak, as we have spoken this evening." She opened the door and passed out, all tremulous. Will waited a moment, and then, with a throbbing heart, went slowly down the stairs. As he did so something Tioist fell suddenly on his hand that grasped the banister. To his immense surprise, he found it was a tear from his own eyelids — for he too was crying. Poet that he was, he felt more than half-inclined, while he stood there, hesi- tating, to rush after her as she went, and seize her in his strong arms, and cover her with warm kisses that very minute. F'or a poet is a man even more than the rest of us. But could he tell her with truth he had quite for- gotten Linnet ? Oh no, no, no ; Linnet's image on his heart remained graven, even then, quite as deeply as ever. We men are built so. laiiiii 5: CHAPTER XXVII AULD LANG SYNE A WEEK or two later, one bright spring afternoon, Will was strolling by himself down the sunny side of Bond Street. All the world was there — for the world was in town — and the pavements were crowded. But Will moved through the stream of well-dressed dawdlers, see- ing and hearing little. In the midst of all that idle throng, his head was full of melodies ; he was working up rhymes to ready-made tunes, undisturbed by the hubbub and din of London.. Of a sudden, somebody stopped and stood straight in front of him. " Mr. Deverill, I be- lieve ! " a tuneful voice said, brusquely. Will's eyes re- turned at once from heaven to earth, and saw standing before them — a tall young man, of somewhat defiant aspect, dressed in the black frock coat and shiny silk hat of Metropolitan respectability. Will paused, and surveyed him. He was a good-look- ing young man, with much swagger in his air, and a black moustache on his upper lip; but his face seemed somehow strangely familiar to Will, while his voice stirred at once some latent chord in the dim depths of his memory. But he wasn't one of Will's fine London acquaintances — the poet saw that much at once by the cheap pretentious- ness of his coat and hat, the flaring blue of his made-up silk tie, the obtrusive glitter of the false diamond pin which adorned its center. The stranger's get-up, indeed, was redolent of the music halls. Yet he was handsome for all that, with a certain strange air of native distinc- tion, not wholly concealed by the vulgar tone of his cos- tume and his solicitous jewellery. Will held out his hand with that dubitative air which we all of us display in the first moment of uncertainty towards half-recognized acquaintances. " I see you have forgotten me, zen," the stranger said, 210 LINNET i\ \ in very decent English, drawing himself up with great dignity, and twirling his black moustache fjrily between one thumb and forefinger. " It is long, to be sure, since we met in ze Tyrol. And I have changed much since zen, no doubt: I have mixed with ze world; I have grown what you call in English cosmopolitan. But I see it comes back ; I see you remember m'" now ; my voice re- calls it to you." Will grasped his hand more cordially. *' Yes, perfectly, when you speak," he said ; " though you are very much changed indeed, as you say ; but I see you're Franz Lind- ner." " Yes ; I'm Mr. Franz Lindner," the stranger replied, half-imperceptibly correcting him — for it was indeed the Robbler. Will scrmned him from head to foot, and took him in at a glance. He was a fiery young man still, and his mien, as of old, was part fierce, part saucy. But, oh, what a difference tl e change of dress had made in him! No conical hat, no blackcock's feather now, whether " turned " or otherwise. In his Tyrolese costume, with his rifle in his hand, and his cartridges at his side, Franz Lindner had looked and moved of yore a typical Alpine jdger. But, in black frock-coat and shiny tall hat, stroll- ing like a civilized snob that he was down the flags of Bond Street, all the romance and poetry had faded utterly out of him. The glamor was gone. He looked and moved for all the world to-day like any other young man of the baser mock-swell sort, dressed up in his Sunday best to lounge and ogle and bandy vulgar chaff in Bur- lington Arcade with his predestined companions. " Why, what has brought you to London, then ? " Will asked, much astonished. " Art, art," the transfigured Robbler responded, off- hand, with inimitable swagger. " You must surely zen know my stage name, zough you don't seem to have heard me." He pulled out a printed card, and handed it to Will with a flourish. " I am ze Signor Francesco," he con- tinued, " all ze world is talking about." And he threw back his chin and cocked his head on one side, looking, even as he spoke, more pretentious than ever. " Oh, indeed ! " Will answered with a bewildered little AULD LANG SYNE 211 laugh. But it was the non-committing " Oh, indeed ! " of mere polite acquiescence. Franz Lindner caught the tinge of implied non-recog- nition in the Englishman's voice, and hastened to add, as if parenthetically, " I perform at ze Pavilion." " What, the London Pavilion at the top of the Hay- market ? " Will exclaimed, beginning to realize. Franz Lindner looked hurt. " I've seen your name often enough," he said, asserting himself still more vigor- ously as Will seemed to know less of him ; " and I sought, as you were a pillar of ze profession yourself, you would certainly have seen mine, if it were only on ze posters. I'm advertised largely. All London rings wis me. Ze County Council has even taken notice of me. I'm a public character! And I have had ze intention more zan once of looking you up, as also Mr. Florian. But zere, here in London our time is so occupied ! You and I, who are public men, wis professional engagements — we are ever overtaxed ; we know not how to find ze leisure or ze space for ze claims of friendship." " Have you been long in London? " Will asked, turning down with him towards Piccadilly. " More zan two years now," the Robbler answered briskly, lounging on at his own pace, with a cane in his gloved hand, and staring hard, as he passed, at every pretty girl he saw on foot or in the carriages. " After I leave you at Meran, I worked my way slowly — singing, singing, ever singing — by degrees to Paris. But Paris didn't suit me ; zere is too much blague zere ; zey go in for buffoons; zey laugh at a man of modest merit. I hate blague myself. So zen I came on pretty soon to London. At first I had to sing in common low music halls — sous side and zat ; but talent, talent is sure to make its way in ze end. I rose very quick, and now — I am at ze head of my branch of ze profession." "You sing, of course?" Will interposed, restraining a smile at the Robbler's delicious self-satisfaction. The man himself was the very same as ever, to be sure; but 'twas strange what a difference mere externals had made in him ! " Yes ; I sing, and sometimes, too, I play ze zither. But iii!iiil'!:i:';i 212 LINNET mostly, I sing. It surprises me, indeed, you should not have heard of my singing." " And what's the particular branch of which you're the acknowledged head ? " Will asked, still an^used at the Tyroler's complacency. Franz Lindner held his head very high in the air, and gave a twirl to his cane, as he answered, with much im- portance, " My line is ze Mammoss Continental Comique ; ze serio-comic foreigner; zey call me Frenchy. I sing ze well-known songs in broken English zat are in every- body's mofus — * Mossoo Robert is my name,' or ' Lay- ces-terre Squarre,' or * Ze leetle black dawg,' or * Zat lohvely Matilda.' I wonder you have not heard of me. * Mossoo Robert ' is all ze talk of London. Frank Wilkins writes songs especially for my voice. If you look in ze music shops, you will see on ze covers, * Written expressly for Signor Francesco.' Signor Francesco — zat's me ! " And he tapped his breast, and swelled himself visibly. " I remember to have seen the name, I think," Will answered, with a slight internal shudder, well pleased, none the less, to give some tardy salve to his companion's wounded vanity. " I'm glad you've got on, and delighted to find you have such kindly recollections of me." Franz Lindner laughed. " Oh, zat ! " he said, snappin^- his fingers in the air very jauntily. " I was a hot young man zen; I knew little of ze world. You mustn't sink much of what a young man did in ze days before he knew how Society is managed. I owe you no grudge. We were bose of us younger. Besides, our friend Hausberger has wiped out our old scores. I have transferred to him, entire, all my feelings in ze matter." " That's well," Will replied, anxious indeed to learn whether the Tyroler had heard anything afresh of late years about Linnet. " And Hausberger himself ? What of him . . . and his wife ? Have you ever knocked up against them ? " The Robbler's brow gathered; his hand clenched his cane hard. It was clear civilization and cosmopolitanism, however neatly veneered, hadn't made much serious change in his underlying nature. " Zat rascal ! " he ex- claimed, bringing his stick down on the pavement with a noisy little thud ; " zat rogue ; zat liar ! If ever I had ir ' \ULD LANG SYNE 213 come across him, it would be bad for his head. Sousand devils, what a man ! . . . Here, we're close to ze Cri ; will you come and have a drink? We can talk zis over afterward. I like to offer somesing to a friend new dis- covered." " It's not much in my line," Will answered, smiling ; " but still, for old times' sake, I'll go in and have a glass with you." To say the truth, he was so eager to find out what Franz might have to communicate that he stretched a point for once, and broke through his otherwise in- variable rule never to drink anything anywhere except at meal times. Franz stalked along Piccadilly, and strode airily into the Criterion like one who knew his way well about the London restaurants. " What'll you take ? " he asked of Will in an assured tone, which showed the question in English was a very familiar one to him. " Whatever you take yourself," Will answered, much amused, for the Tyroler wj s far more at home than him- self in a London bar, and far more at his ease with the London barmaid. " Two half porters and two small Scotch, miss," the Robbler cried briskly to the tousely-haired young woman who attended to his call. " You'll find it a very good mixture for zis time of day, Mr. Deverill. I always take it myself. It softens ze organ." The young woman fulfilled the order with unwonted alacrity — Franz was a favorite at the bar, and gave hib commands leaning across it with the arch smile of an habitue — and Will then discovered that the mixture in question consisted of a glass of Dublin stout, well forti- fied with a thimbleful of Highland whisky. He also ob- served, what he had not at first sight noticed, that Franz Lindner's face, somewhat redder than of old, bore evi- dence, perhaps, of too frequent efforts for the softening of the organ. Franz nodded to the barmaid. " Here's our meeting ! " he said to Will, " Shall we step a little aside here ? We can talk wisout overhearing." They drew aside to a round table for their unfinished gfossip. " You're not in town often, I suppose," the Tvrolcr bcgpn, scanning his companion from head to foot with a critical scrutiny. li.l,;;l,a;i.I!!i!' 214 LINNET :,H:i:..ir " Why, I live here," V/ill answered, taken aback — " in Craven Street, Strand; I've always lived here." " Oh, indeed," the Robbler responded, with a some- what superior air ; "I sought from your costume you'd just come up from ze country." Will smiled good-humoredly. He was wearing, in point of fact, a soft slouch hat and a dusty brown suit of somewhat poetical cut, which contrasted in more ways than one with the music-hall singer's too elaborate parody of the glossy silk chimney-pot and regulation frock-coat of the orthodox Belgravian. Then Franz came back at a bound to the subject he had quitted on the flags of Piccadilly. He explained, with much circumlocution and many needless expletives, how he had heard from time to time, through common friends at St. Valentin, that Andreas Hausberger and his wife had fluctuate! of late years between summer at Munich, Leip- zig, Stuttgart, and winter at Milan, Florence, Naples, Venice. Linnet got on with him very well — oh, very well indeed — yes; Linnet, you know, was just the sort of girl to get on very well with pretty nearly anyone. No doubt by this time she'd settled down into tolerably amicably re- lations with Andreas Hausberger! Any children? Oh dear, no ; Hausberger'd take care of that ; a public singer's time is far too valuable to be wasted on the troubles of a growing young family. Had she come out yet? Well, yes ; that is to say, from time to time she'd sung at concerts in Munich, Florence, and elsewhere. Successfully? Of course ; she'd a very good voice, as voices go, for her sort, and training was sure to do something at least for it. Franz had heard rumors she was engaged next season for San Carlo at Naples ; you might count upon Hausberger's doing his very best, now he'd invested his savings in pre- paring her for the stage, to make money out of his bargain. Through all Franz said, however, there ran still, as of yore, one constant thread of undying hatred to the man who had outwitted him at Meran and St Valentin. "Then you haven't forgiven him yet?" Will inqui'ed at last, after one such spiteful allusion to Andreas's mean- ness. The Robbler's hand moved instinctively of itself to his AULD LANG SYNE 215 left breast pocket. He had changed his coat, but not his customs. " I carry it here still/' he answered, with the same old defiant air, just defining with finger and thumb the vague outline of the knife that bulged between them through the glossy broadcloth. " It's always ready for him. Ze day I meet him — " and he stopped short sud- denly, with a face like a bulldog's. " You Tyrolers have long memories," Will answered, with a little shudder. " It's very unfashionable, you know, to stab a rival in London." Franz showed his handsome teeth. " Unfashionable or not," he replied, with a shrug, " it is so I was born; it is so I live ever. As we say in ze song, I am made zat way. I cannot help it. I never forget an injury. . . . Zough, mind you," he continued, after a telling little pause, during which he drove many times an imaginary knife into an invisible enemy, ** it isn't so much now zat I grudge him Linnet. Let him keep his fine Frau. Zere are better girls in ze world, you and I have found out, zan Lina Telser — to-day Frau Hausberger. We were younger zen ; we are men of ze world now ; we know higher sings, I sink, zan a Zillerthal sennerin. What I feel wis him at present is not so much zat he took away ze girl, as zat he played me so mean a trick to take her." Will smiled to himself in silence. How strangely human feelings and ideas differ! He himself had never forgotten the beautiful alp-girl with the divine voice; in the midst of London drawing-rooms he never ceased to miss her ; while Franz Lindner thought he had left Linnet far, far behind, since he became acquainted with those higher and nobler types, the music-hall stars of the London Pavilion ! " There's no accounting for tastes," people say ; oh, most inept of proverbs ! surely it's easy for any- one to accou it for the reasons which made Linnet appear so different now in Franz Lindner's eyes and in her Eng- lish poet's. But before Will and Franz parted at the Circus that afternoon, they had made mutual promises, for old ac- quaintance' sake — Franz, that he would graciously accept a stall, on an off-night, at the Duke of Edinburgh's, to see Will's new piece. The Duchess of Modena; and Will that 2l6 LINNET '- !ii''v'!i!liii!l!it he would betake himself to the London Pavilion one of these next few evenings, to hear Signora Francesco, alias the Frenchy, in his celebrated and universally encored im- personation of Mossoo Robert in Regent Street. liiliii CHAPTER XXVIIl SIGNORA CASALMONTE Three years and more had passed since Will's visit to the Tyrol. Events had moved fast for his fortunes mean- while. He was a well-known man now in theatrical cir- cles. Florian Wood went about, indeed, boasting in clubs and drawing-rooms that 'twas he who had discovered and brought out Will Deverill. *' It's all very well to be a poet," he said, " and it's all very well to be born with a head full of rhymes and tunes, of crochets, clefs, and quavers ; but what's the use of all that, I ask you my dear fellow, without a critic to push you? A Critic is a man with a fine eye for potentialities. Before the world sees, he sees ; before the world hears, he listens. He sits by the world's wayside, as it were, with open eye or ear, and catches unawares the first faint lisping notes of unde- veloped genius. He divines in the bud the exquisite aroma and perfect hue of the full-blown blossom. Long ago, I said to Deverill, * You have the power w^ithin you to write a good opera ! ' He laughed me to scorn ; but I said to him, * Try ! ' — and the outcome was, Honey- suckle. He took up a battered fiddle one day at an old inn in the Zillerthal, when we two were rusticating on the emerald bosom of those charming unsophisticated Ty- rolese valleys ; he struck a few notes on it of his own com- posing ; and I said to him, * My dear Will, Sullivan trembles on his pedestal.' At the time he treated it as a mere passing joke; but I made him persevere; ahd what was the result? — why, those exquisite airs which found theT way before long to the sheep-runs of Australia, and reso:tnded from lumberers' camps in the backwoods of Canada! The Critic, I say, is the true prophet and sage of our modern world ; he sees what is to be, and he helps to produce it." But whether Florian was right in attributing Will's sue- 217 2l8 LINNET i liii||||j|lj|iii :';i! *li jil. , lll'iiMi'.iiiii ■ ' ■'■ '' ' 'I'l iilliinii!!:;i;M'li IP r^ '' i!ii i pill ii cess to himself or not, it is certain, at least, that Will was rapidly successful. The world recognized in him a certain genuine poetical vein which has seldom been vouchsafed to the English librettist; it recognized in him, also, a cer- tain depth and intensity of musical sense which has seldom been vouchsafed to the English dramatic composer. One afternoon that spring, Will returned to town from a visit to the Provinces in connection with his new opera. The Lady of Llandudno, then about to be performed in several country theaters by Mr. D'Arcy Clift's operatic company. He drove almost straight from the station to Rue's. Florian was there in great form ; and Mr. Joaquin Holmes, the Colorado Seer, had dropped in for afternoon tea at his fair disciple's. In spite of Will's ridicule. Rue continued to believe in Mr. Holmes's thought-reading and other manifestations. For the Seer had added by this time a touch of spiritualism to the general attractions of his flagging entertainments at the Assyrian Hall; and it is a mysterious dispensation of Providence that wealthy Americans, especially widows, fall a natural prey to all forms of transcendentalism or spiritualistic quackery. It seems to be one of the strange devices which Providence adopts for putting excessive or monopolized wealth into circulation. " Mr. Holmes wants me to go to the Harmony to- night," Rue said, with a smile — " you know what it is — the new Harmony Theater. He says there's a piece com- ing out there this evening I ought to see — a pretty new piece by an American composer. You're going to be crushed. Will. They've got a fresh tenor there, a very good man, whom Mr. Holmes thinks a deal of. I've half a mind to go; will you join our party? " " You ought to hear it," the Seer remarked, with his oracular air, turning to Will, and looking critical. " This new tenor's a person you should keep your eye upon; I heard him rehearse, and I said to myself at once, * That fellow's the very man Mr. Deverill will want to write a first part for; if he doesn't, I'll retire at once from the prophetic business.' He has a magnificent voice; you should get Blades to secure him next season for the Duke of Edinburgh's. He's worth fifty pounds a night, if he's worth a penny." SIGNORA CASALMONTE 219 "Very good trade, a tenor's," Florian mused philo- sophically. '• I often regret 1 wasn't brought up to it." " What's his name ? " Will asked with languid interest, for he had no great faith in the Seer's musical ear and critical acumen. " His name ? • Heaven knows," the Seer answered, with a short laugh; " but he calls himself Papadopoli — Signor Romeo Papadopoli." *' There's a deal in a name, in spite of that vastly over- rated man, Shakespeare," Florian murmured, musingly. " It's my belief, if the late lamented Lord Beaconsfield had only been christened Benjamin Jacobs, or even Benja- min Israels, he never would have lived to be Prime Min- ister of England. But as Benjamin Disraeli — ah, what poetry, what mystery, what Oriental depth, what Vene- tian suggestiveness ! And Romeo's good, too; Signor Romeo Papadopoli! Why, 'twas of Romeo himself the Bard first asked, ' What's in a name ? the rose,* et cetera. And in the fulness of time, this singer man crops up with that very name to confute him. ' Ah, Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo ? ' Why, because it looks so extremely romantic in a line of the playbill, and helps to attract the British public to your theater! Papadopoh', indeed! and his real name's Jenkins. I don't doubt it's Jenkins. There's a Palazzo Papadopoli on the Grand Canal. But this fellow was born, you may take your oath, at Haggerston or Stepney ! " " Well, your own name has floated you in hfe, at any rate," Rue put in, a little mischievously. Florian gazed at her hard — and changed the subject abruptly. " And there's a woman in the troupe who sings well, too, I am told," he interposed, with airy grace — the airy grace of five feet — turning to Joaquin Holmes. " I haven't heard her myself ; I've been away from town — you know how engaged I am — visits, visits in the country — Lady Barnes; Lady Ingleborough. But they sav she sings well; really, Will, you ought to come with us." "Y'^s; she's not bad in her way," the Seer admitted, with a stifled yawn, stroking his long moustache, and as- suming the air of a connoisseur in female voices. " She's got a fine rich organ, a little untrained, perhaps, but not 220 LINNET bad for a debutante. A piquant little Italian; Signora Carlotta Casalmonte she calls herself. But Papadopoli's the man ; you should come, Mr. Deverill ; my friend Mr. Florian has secured us a box; I dine at Mrs. Palmer's, and we all go together to the Harmony afterwards." " I should like to go," Will replied with truth ; for he hated to leave Rue undefended in that imposter's clutches ; " but, unfortunately, I've invited my sister and her hus- band to dine with me to-night at my rooms in Craven Street." " Well, wire to them at once to come on and dine here instead," Rue suggested, with American expansiveness ; " and then we can all go in a party together — the more the merrier." Will thought not badly of this idea; it was a capital compromise: the more so as he had asked nobody else to meet the Sartorises, and a family tete-a-tete with Maud and Arthur wasn't greatly to his liking. " I'll do it," he said, after a moment's reflection, " if they're at home and will answer me." Rtie sent out a servant to the nearest office with the telegram at once; and, in due time, an answer arrived by return that Arthur and Maud would be happy to ac- cept Mrs. Palmer's very kind invitation for this evening. It was most properly worded ; Maud was nothing if not proper. Her husband had now been appointed incumbent of St. Barnabas's, Marylebone; and her dignity had re- ceived an immense accession. Indeed, she debated for ten minutes with dear Arthur whether it was really quite right for then to go at all on such hasty notice ; and she was annc^yed that Will, after inviting her himself, should have ventured to put her off with a vicarious dinner- party. But she went all the same, partly because she thought it would be such a good thing for Will, " and for our own dear boys, Arthur, if Will were to marry that rich bourgeoise American," and partly because she re- membered it would give her such an excellent opportunity of displaying her pretty new turquoise-blue dinner-dress among the best company, in a box at the Harmony. Be- sides, a first night is a thing never to be despised by the wise man or woman ; it looks so well to see next day in the society papers, " Mrs. Palmer's box contained, amongst SIGNORA CASALMONTE 221 Others, Mr. Florian Wood, Mr. W. Deverill, his sister, Mrs. Sartoris, and her husband, the incumbent of St. Barnabas's, Marylebone." So, at half-past seven, Maud Sartoris sailed in, tur- quoise-blue and all, and, holding out her hand with a forgiving smile, murmured gushingly to her hostess, " VVe thought it so friendly of you, dear Mrs. Palmer, to invite us like that at a moment's notice, .as soon as you knew we were engaged to Will, and that Will couldn't possibly go unless he took us with him ! We want to see this new piece at the Harmony so much ; a first night to us quiet clerical folks, you know, is alzcays such a treat. We're immensely obliged to you." Dinner went oflf well, as it usually did where Florian was of the party. To give Florian his due. he bubbled and sparkled, like the Apollinaris spring, with unfailing effervescence. That evening, too, he was in specially fine form; it amused him to hear Mr. Joaquin Holmes discourse with an air of profound conviction on his own prophetic art, and then watch him glancing acros? the table under his long dark eyelashes to see between whiles how Florian took it. The follies and foibles of mankind were nuts to Florian. It gave the epicurean philosopher a calm sense of pleasure in his own superiority to see Rue and Arthur Sartoris drinking in open-mouthed the mys- terious hints and self-glorificatory nonsense of the man whom he knew by his own confession to be a cheat and a humbug. Their eyes seldom met ; Joaquin Holmes avoided such disconcerting experiences ; but whenever they did, Florian's were Ijrimful of suppresses amuse- ment, while the Seer's had a furtive hang-dog air as of one who at once would deprecate exposure and beseech indulgence. After dinner, the Seer kept them laughing so long at his admirable stories of the Far West of his childhood (which Arthur Sartoris received with the conventional " Ah really, now, Mr. Holmes ! " of forced clerical dis- approbation) that they were barely in time for the begin- ning of the opera. As they entered, the tenor held pos- session of the stage. Will didn't think so much of him; Florian, his head on one side in a critical attitude, ob- served oracularly, at the end of his first song, that the f i'ilill 222 LINNET E) il!ll!liliMi!!ll|i| Papadopoli was perhaps not wholly without capabilities. That's the sort of criticism that Florian loved best; it enables a man to hedge in accordance with the event. If the fellow turns oi't well in the near future, you can say you declared from the very first he had capabilities; if the public doesn't catch on, you can remark with justice that he hasn't developed what little promise he once showed, and that from the beginning you never felt in- clined to say much for him. Presently, from the rear of the stage, down the mimic rocks that formed the background of the scenery, a beautiful woman, entering almost unobseived, sprang lightly from boulder to boulder of the torrent bed, with the true elastic step of a mountain-bred maiden. She had a fine ''ipe figure, very lithe and vigorous-looking; her fea- tures were full, but extremely regular ; her mouth, though large and somewhat rich in the lips, was yet rosy and at- tractive. Eyes full of fire, and a rounded throat, with a waxy softness of outline that recalled a nightingale's, gave point to her beauty. She was exquisitely dressed in a pale cream bodice, with what passes on the stage for a peasant kirtle, and round her rich brown neck she wore a drooping circlet of half-barbaric-looking lancelikc red coral pendants. Before she opened her mouth, her mere form and grace of movement took the house by sur- prise. A little storm of applause burst spontaneous at once from stalls, boxes, and gallery. The singer paused, and curtsied. She looked lovelier still as she flushed up with excitement. Every eye in the house was in- stinctively fixed upon her. Will had been gazing round the boxes as the actress entered, to see what friends of his they might contain, and to nod recognition. The burst of applause recalled him suddenly to what was passing ui the stage. He looked round and stared at her. For a moment he saw only a very beautiful girl, in the prime of her days, grace- fully clad for her part, and most supple in her movements. At the self-same instant, before he had time to note more, the singer opened her mouth, and began to pour forth on his ear lavish floods of liquid music. Will started with surprise; in a flash of recognition, voice and face came SIGNORA CASALMONTE 223 back to him. He seized Florian by the arm. " Great God ! " he cried, '* it's Linnet ! " Florian struck a Httle attitude. " Oh, unexpected fe- licity ! Oh, great gain ! " he murmured, in his supremest manner. " You're right ! So it is ! A most undoubted Lmnet ! " And Linnet it was; dressed in the impossible peasant costume of theatrical fancy ; grown fuller and mor^ beau- tiful about the neck and throat; with her delicate voice highly trained and developed by all that Italian or Bava- rian masters could suggest to improve it; but Linnet still for all that — the same beautiful, simple; sweet Linnet as ever. Joaquin Holmes glanced at the programme. " And this," he murmured low, *' is Signora Carlotta Casalmonte that I spoke about." Florian's eyes opened wide. " Why, of course ! " he exclaimed with a start. " I wonder we didn't see it. It's a mere translation : Casalmonte — Hausberger : Carlotta — Caroliiia — Lina — Linnet ; there you have it ! " And he turned, self-applausive of his own cleverness, to Rue, who sat beside him. As for Rue, her first feeling was a sudden flush of pain ; so this girl had come back to keep Will still apart from her! One moment later that feeling gave place with lightning speed to another; would he care for this peasant woman so much, and regret her so deeply, if he saw her here in England, another man's wife, and an actress on the stage, dressed up in all the vulgar tinsel gew-gaws, surrounded by all the sordid disenchanting realities of theatrical existence? But Will himself knew two things, and .two things alone. That was Linnet who stood singing there — and she v;ore the necklet he had sent her from Innsbruck. CHAPTER XXIX FROM linnet's STANDPOINT Yes ; it was Linnet indeed ! The natural chances of Will's profession had thrown them together almost inevitably on the very first night of her appearance in London. Linnet had looked forward to that night; she had al- ways expected it. During those three long years that had passed since they parted, she had never yet ceased to hope and believe that Andreas would some day take her to England. And if to England, then to London, and Will Deverill. But much had happened meanwhile. She was the self-same Linnet still, in heart anil ):: soul, yet, oh! how greatly changed in externals of every sort. Those three years and a half had made a new woman of her in art, in knowledge, in culture, in intellect. She had left the Tyrol a mere ignorant peasant-girl ; she came to London now an educated lady, an accomplished vocalist, a powerful actress, a finished woman of society. And it was Will Deverill who had first put into her head and heart the idea and the desire of attaining such per- fect mastery in her chosen vocation. The capacity, the potentiality,. the impulse, the instinct, were all there before- hand ; no polish on earth can ever possibly turn a common stone into a gem of the first water : the beauty of color, the delicacy of grain must be inherent from the .atsot, only w^aiting for the art of the skilful lapidary to hiitg them visibly out and make them publicly manifest. So i^innet had been a lady in fibre from the very first, inheriting the profound Tyrolese capacity for artistic receptiveness and artistic eflfort; everything that was beautiful in external Nature or human handicraft spoke straight to her heart with an immediate message — spoke so clear that Linnet could not choose but listen. Still, it was Will Deverill's words and Will Deverill's example that first set her soul upon the true path of development. It was he who had 224 'I FROM LINNET'S STANDPOINT 225 read her Goethe's Faust on the Kiichelberg; it was he who had explained to her the rude Romanesque designs on the portal of the Rittersaal. She had treasured up those first lessons in her inmost heart; they were the key that unlocked for her the front door of culture. Andreas Hausberger, for his part, could never have taught her so. He had taken her straight from Meran to Verona and Milan. But his soul was bounded by the one idea of music. Even in the first poignant sorrow of that hateful honeymoon, however, Linnet had found time to gaze in wonder at the great amphitheater, still haunted by the spectral form of the legendary Dietrich ; to cry like a child over the narrow tomb where Juliet never lay ; to tread with silent awe the vast aisles and solemn crypt of San Zeno Maggiore. At Milan, they loitered long; An- dreas set her to work at once under a famous local teacher, and took her often in the evening to hear celebrated singers on the stage of La Scala. Such elements in an artistic education he thoroughly understood, but it never would have occurred to his mind as any part of a soprano's training to make her examine the Luinis and Borgognones of the Brera, or do homage before the exquisite Botticellis and Peruginos of the Museo Poldi-Pezzoli. To the Wirth of St. Valentin such excursions into the sister arts would have seemed mere wastt of valuable time, for Andreas re- garded music as a branch of trade, and had not that higher wisdom which understands instinctively how every form of art reflects its influence indirectly on the musician's mind and the musician's inspiration. That wisdom Lin- net possessed, and Andreas, after a few ineffectual remon- strances, let her go her own way and live her own artistic life unchecked to the top of her bent — the more so as he perceived she sang best and most vigorously when least thwarted or worried. Moreover, many well-advised friends assured him in private it was desirable for zn actress to know as much as possible of costume, of color, of posture, and of grouping, which could best be learned by studying the works of the great early painters. So Linnet went her way. undeterred by her husband, and educated herself in general culture at the same time that she received her strict musical training. She knew Raphael's Sposalizio as intimately after a while as she 226 LINNET n i.Mi;^i!hyi!i!)!il knew her own chalet; she gazed on the flowing lines of Luini's frescoes till they grew familiar to her eyes as the Stations of the Cross in the old church at St. Valentin. She drank in the cathedral with an endless joy ; she loved its innumerable pinnacles, its thousand statues in the mar- ble niches: she admired the gloomy antiquity of molder- ing Sant' Ambrogio, the dim religious aisles of Santa Maria delle Grazie. Amid surroundings like these, her artistic nature expanded by degrees as naturally as a bud opens out into a flower before the summer sunshine. She reveled in the architecture, the pictures, the statuary : Milan stood to the soul of the peasant-singer as a veritable university. It was the first time, too, that Linnet had ever found herself in a bustling, business-like, modern city. The hurry and scurry were as new as the art to her. The throng of men and women in the crowded streets, the Piazza, brilliant with the flare of glowing lamps, the great glass-roofed gallery where the gilded Lombard youth promenaded by night in twos and threes, or sipped absinthe before the doors of dazzling cafes: all these were quite fresh, and all these were, in their way, too, an element of education. There are many who can see no more in Milan than this : they know it only as the most go-ahead and modernized of Italian cities. Linnet knew better. To her it was the town of Leonardo and his disciples, of the great marble pile whose infinite detail escapes and eludes tiie most observant eye, of the vast and stately opera house where Otello and Carmen first unfolded their wonders of sight and sound to her ecstatic senses. Wiser in hei" gen- eration, she accepted it aright as the vestibule and ante- chamber of artistic Italy. From Milan they went on in due time to Florence. There they stopped less long, for opportunities of learn- ing were not by any means so good as at Milan and Naples. But those few short weeks in the City of the Soul were to Linnet as a dream of some artistic Paradise ; they made her half forget, for the moment at least, her lost English lover — and her husband's presence. The Duomo, the Palazzo Vecchio, the Loggia, the Piazza, the old bridge across the Arno, the enchanted market-place; Michael FROM LINNET'S STANDPOINT 227 Angelo's tomb, Giotto's crusted campanile! What hours she spent, entranced, in the endless halls of the Uffizi and the Pitti; what moments of hushed awe and rapt silence of soul before the pallid Fra Angelicos in the dim cells of San Marco. Ach, Gott, it was beautiful ! Linnet gazed with the intense delight of her mountain nature at Raphael's Madonnas and Andrea's Holy Families ; she stood spell- bound before the exquisite young David of the Academia ; she wandered with a strange thrill among the marvelous della Robbias and Donatellos of the Bargello. The Tyrolese temperament is before all things artitsic. A new sense seemed quickened within Linnet's soul as she trod those glorious palaces instinct with memories of the Medici and their compeers. A great thirst for knowledge possessed her heart. She read as she had never known how to read before. That Florentine time was as her freshman year in the splendid quadrangles of this Italian Oxford. Then Rome — the Vatican, the Colosseum, the monu- ments, St. Peter's, the loud organs, the singing boys, the incense, the purple robes and mitres, the great guttering candles ! All that could awake in unison every chord of religion and its sister art. in that simple religious artistic nature, was there to gratify her ! It was glorious ! it was wonderful! So her winter passed away, her first winter with Andreas ; she was learning fast, both with eye and with ear, all that Italy and its masters could possibly teach her. As spring returned, they went northward through Lom- bardy and the Breniier once more on their way to Munich. Her own Tyrol looked more beautiful than ever as they passed, with its unmelted snows lying thick on the moun- tains. But, save for a night at Innsbruck, they might not stop there. Yet, even after that short lapse of time in southern cities, oh, how different, how altered little Inns- bruck seemed to her! She had thought it before such a grand big town ; she thought it now so much shrunken, so old-world, so quaint, so homely. And then, no Will Deverill was there, as before, to brighten it. The moun- tains gazed down as o^ old from their precipitous crags upon the nestling town ; they were Tyrolese and home- like : and therefore she loved them. But everything had a Mlllll i.'i'i'iiit' 228 LINNET ' ■("'If ,.i:i in iilli I smaller and meaner air than six months earlier ; the queer old High Street was just odd, not magnificent; the Anna Siiule was dwarfed, the Rathhaus had grown smaller. She had only seen Milan, Florence, Rome, meanwhile; but Milan, Florence, Rome, made Innsbruck sink at once to its proper place as a mere provincial capital. While they waited for the Munich train next morning, she strolled into the Hofkirche, to see once more Maximilian's tomb with its attendant figures.- She started at the sight. After the Venus and the Laocoon it surprised her to think she could so lately have stood awestruck before those naif bronze abortions ! That summer they spent in Germany, almost wholly at Munich. There Linnet went through a course cf musical training under a well-known teacher, and there, too, she had ample opportunities, at the same time, of cultivating to the full her general artistic faculties. Next winter, back to Italy — this time to Venice, Rome, and Naples. Linnet learnt much once more ; it was all so glorious ; the Grand Canal, St. Mark's, the Academy, the Frari, Sorrento, Capri, Pozzuoli, the great operas at San Carlo. So she stored her brain all the time with fresh experiences of men, women, and things ; with pictures of places, of architecture, of sculpture, of scenery. Every- w' ^re her quick mind assimilated at once all that was best and most valuable in what she saw or listened to; by eye and by ear alike, she was half-unconsciously educa- ting herself. But that wasn't all. She had ideas as well of still higher education. Will Deverill had given her the first key to books — and books are the gateways of the deepest knowledge. Partly to escape from the monotony of An- dreas Hausberger's conversation, partly also quite defi- nitely to fit herself for the place in the world she was here- after to fill — when she went to England — Linnet turned to books as new friends and companions. German litera- ture first of all, and especially the dramatic. Andreas was wise enough in his generation to approve of that ; he was aware that acquaintance with plays and with romantir works in general forms no small integral part of an opera- ginger's equipment. German literature, then, first— FROM LINNET S STANDPOINT 229 Goethe, Schiller, Lessing, Richter, Paul Heyse, Freili- grath — German literature first, but after it English. An- dreas approved of that, too, for was there not much money to be made out of England and America? It was well Linnet should enlarge her English vocabulary; well, too, she should know the plays and novels on which Romeo e Giulietta, and Lucia di Lammcrmoor, and / Puritani were founded. But I 'nnet herself had other reasons of her own for wishing to study English. Though she looked upon Will Deverill as something utterly lost to her, a bright element in her life now faded away for ever, she yet cherished the memory of that one real love episode so deep in her heart that, for her Englishman's sake, she loved England and English. She looked forward to the time when she should go to England ; not so much because she thought she should ever meet Will Deverill there — Naples and Munich had taught her vaguely to appreciate the probable vastness of London — but because it was the country where Will Deverill lived, and it spoke the tongue Will had made so dear to her. So she read every English book she could easily obtain — Shakespeare, Milton, Scott, Dickens, Thackeray — and she took oral lessons in conver- sational English, which as Andreas justly remarked, would improve her accent, and enable her to sing better in Eng- lish opera. Thus three years passed away, and Linnet in their course saw much of the Continent. They got as far north and west at times as Leipzig, Brussels, and even Paris. But they always spent their winters in Italy ; it was best for Linnet's throat, Andreas thought ; it gave her abundance of fresh air and sunshine; and besides, the Italian style of teaching was better suited, he felt sure, to her ardent, excitable Tyrolese temperament, than the colder and more learned Bavarian method. Twas at Naples, accordingly, that Linnet came out first as Signora Casalmonte. But after a short season there, Andreas was quite suflficiently assured of ultimate success to venture upon taking his prize at once to England. He would sell his goods, like a prudent merchant that he was, in the dearest market. When Linnet first learned she was to go to London, a certain strange thrill of joy and hope 230 LINNET and fear coursed through her irresistibly. London! that was the place where Will Deverili lived! London! that was the place where she soon might meet him ! She clasped the little metal Madonna that still hung from her neck, convulsively. " Our Dear Frau, oh, pro- tect me ! Save me, oh, save me from the thoughts of my own heart! Help me to think of him less! Help me to try and forget him ! " She was Andreas Hausberger's wife now, and she meant to be true to him. Love him she never could, but sh e could at least be true to him. Not in deed alone, but in thought and in word, as Our Dear Frau knew, she strove hard to be faithful. Then came the first fluttering excitement and disap- pointment of London — that dingy Eldorado, go rich, so miserable — the dim, dank streets, the glare, the gloom, the opulence, the squalor of our fog-bound metropolis! For a week or two, thank Heaven, Liimet was too busy at ar- rangements and rehearsals co think of surroundings. They were the weeks during which Will was away in the Prov- inces, or he must almost certainly have heard of and attended the preliminary performances of the forthcoming opera. The final day arrived, and Linnet, all tremulous at the greatness of the stake, had to make her first appear- ance before that stolid sea of unsympathetic, hide-bound English faces. She had peeped at them from the wings before the curtain rose ; oh, how her heart sank within her. The respectable sobriety of stalls and boxes, the square- jawed brutality of pit and gallery, the cynical aspect of the gentlemen of the press, in their faultless evening clothes and unruffled shirt-fronts — all contrasted so painfully with the vivid excitement and frank expectancy of the Neapoli- tan audiences to which alone she had hitherto been accus- tomed. One brighter thought, and only one, sustained her — Dear Lady, forgive her that she should think of it now! these were all Herr Will's people, and they spoke Herr Will's tongue; as Herr Will was kind, would not they too be kind to her ? So, plucking up heart of grace, though trembling all over, she tripped down the stage rocks with her free gait of a sennerin. To her joy and surprise, a burst of ap- FROM LINNET'S STANDPOINT 231 plause rose responsive at once from tho:" seemingly irre- sponsive dress-coated stalls, those stolidly brutal and square-faced pittites. Her mere beauty stirred them. Even the gentlemen of the press, smiling cyncially still, drummed their fingers gently on the flat tops of their opera-hats. Thus encouraged. Linnet opened her mouth and sang. Her throat rose and fell in a rhythmical tide. She rendered the first stanza of her first song almost fault- lessly. She knew, herself, she had never sung better. Then came a brief pause before she went on to the second. During that pause, she raised her eyes to a box of the first tier. The Blessed Madonna in Britannia metal on the oval pendant, ever faithful at a pinch, almost crumpled in her grasp as she looked and started. It was Will she saw there, Will, Will, her dear Englishman ; and Herr Florian by his elbow, and the grand foreign Frau, the fair-haired Frau, the Frau with the diamonds, ever still beside them ! In a second, Linnet felt from head to foot a great thrill break over her. It broke like a wave of fire, in long, un- dulating movement, as she had felt it at Innsbruck. The wave rose from her feet, as before, and coursed hot through her limbs, and burnt bright in her body, till it came out as a crimson flush on neck an( chin and fore- head. Then it descended once more, thrilling lliruugh her as it went, in long, undulating movement, from her neck to her feet again. She felt it as distinctly as she could feel Our Blessed Lady clenched hard in her little fist. Her Englishman was there, whom she thought she had lost ; as at Innsbruck, so in London, he had come to hear her sing her first song in public ! All at once, yet again, the same strange seizure came over her. As her eyes met Will's, and that wave of fire ran resistlessly through her, she was conscious of a weird sense she had known but once in all her life before — a sudden failure of sound, a numb deadening of the orches- tra. Not a note struck her ear. It was all a vast blank to her. Instinctively, as she sang, her right hand toyed with Will's coral necklet, but her left, with all its might, still gripped and clasped Our Lady with trembling fingers. She heard not a word she herself was uttering ; she knew not how she sang, or whether she sang at all ; in an agony iiii ill '■'llJl'" lif r. i J 1 Hi 1 ^''"'?'iilil!liii! l'"li: !i;!iil!!liili! 'Ill: 232 LINNET of terror, of remorse, of shame, she kept her eyes fixed on the conductor's baton. By this aid alone she kept true to her accompaniment. But her heart went up silently in one great prayer to Our Lady. When she felt this at Inns- bruck she knew it was love. If it meant love still — An- dreas Hausberger's wife — Oh ! Blessed Mother, help ! Oh ! Dear Lady, protect her ! i CHAPTER XXX AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR How she got through cnat song, how she got through that scene, Linnet never knew. She was conscious of but two things — Will Deverill's presence and the Blessed Madonna. Remorse and shame almost choked her utterance. But mechanically she went on, and sang her part out to the end — sang it exquisitely, superbly. Have you ever noticed that what we do most automatically, we often do best? It was so that night at the Harmony with Linnet. She knew her music well ; she had studied it carefully ; and the very absence of self-consciousness which this recognition gave her, made her sing it more artlessly, yet more per- fectly than ever. She forgot the actress and the singer in the woman. That suited her best of all. Her mental exis- tence was divided, as it were, into two distinct halves ; one conscious and personal, absorbed with Will Deverill and Our Dear Lady in Britannia metal ; the other unconscious and automatic, pouring forth with a full throat the notes and words it was wound up to utter. And the automatic self did its work to perfection. The audience hung en- tranced ; Andreas Hausberger, watching them narrowly from a box at the side, hugged his sordid soul in rapture at the thought that Linnet had captured them on this her first night in that golden England. She sang on and on. The audience sat enthralled. Gradually, by slow stages, the sense of hearing came back to her. But she had done as well, or even better without it. The act went off splendidly. Andreas Hausberger was in transports. At the first interval between the scenes, Rue debated in her own soul what to do about Linnet ; but, being a wise woman in her way, she determined to wait till the end of the piece before deciding on action. Act the Second, Act the Third, Act the Fourth followed fast; in Act the Fifth when Linnet, no longer a peasant girl, but *34 LINNET the bride of the Grand Duke, came on in her beautiful pale primrose brocade, cut square in the bodice like a picture of Titian's, the audience cheered again with vociferous outburst. Linnet blushed and bowed ; a glow of conscious triumph suffused her face ; then she raised her eyes timidly to the box on the first tier. Her victory was complete. She could see by his face Will Deverill was satisfied — and the grand lady with the diamonds was sincerely applaud- ing her. Was the grand lady his wife? Why not? Why not? What could it matter to her now? She was Andreas Hausberger's. And Will — why, Will was but an old Zillerthal acquaintance. Yet she clutched Our Blessed Frau tighter than ever in her grasp, at that painful thought, and somehow hoped illogically Our Blessed Frau would protect her from the chance of the grand lady being really married to Will Dev- erill. Not even the gods, says Aristotle, in his philosophic calm can make the past not have been as it was. But Linnet thought otherwise. The curtain fell to a storm of c mg hands. After that a moment's lull ; then loud cries of " Casalmonte ! " The whole theater rang with them. The Papadopoli, re- vived by magic from his open-air deathbed on the blood- stained grass, came forward before the curtain, alive and well, his wounds all healed, leading Linnet on his right, and bowing their joint acknowledgments. At sight of the soprana, even the cynical critics yielded spontaneous hom- age. It was a great success ; a very great success. Linnet panted and bowed low. Surely she had much to be grate- ful for that night ; surely the Blessed Madonna in heaven above had stood by her well through that trying ordeal! But in Rue Palmer's box, after all was over, Florian's voice rose loud in praise of this new star in our musical firmament. " When first she swam into my ken," he said. " on her Tyrolese hillside — you remember it, Deverill — I said to myself, * Behold a singer indeed ! Some day. we may be sure, we shall w^elcome her in London.' And now, could any mortal mixture of earth's mold breathe purer music or more innate poesy? " For it was Florian's cue, as things stood, to make much of Linnet, for many reasons. In the first place, it would AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR 235 reflect credit and glory on his insight as a critic that he should have spotted this flaming comet of a season while as yet it loomed no larger than the eleventh magnitude. Indeed, he had gone down among the other critics be- tween the acts, and button-holed each of them in the lobby, separately. " A discovery of my own, I can assure you. I found her out as a peasant-girl in a Tyrolese valley, and advised her friends to have her trained and educated." Then, again, his praise of Linnet no doubt piqued Rue; and Florian, in spite of rebuffs, had still one eye vaguely fixed in reserve on Rue's seven hundred thousand. Faint heart, he well knew, never won fair lady. Besides, Florian felt it was a good thing Will's cow-girl should have come back to him in London thus transformed and transfigured ; for he recognized in Will his one dangerous rival for Rue's aflfections, and he was bent as of old on getting rid of Will by diverting him, if possible, upon poor helpless Linnet. The mere fact of her being married mattered little to a philosoph r. So he murmured more than once. as Linnet bowed deeper and deeper, " What a beautiful creature she is, to be sure! You remember. Will, what I said of her when we met her first in the Zillerthal ? " Even poets are human. There was a malicious little twinkle in the corner of Will's eye as he answered briskly, " Oh yes ; I remember it word for word, my dear fellow. You said, you thought with time and training, she ou^ht to serve Andreas Hausberger's purpose well enough for popular entertainments. Her voice, though undeveloped, was not wholly without some natural compass." Will had treasured up those words. Florian winced at them a little — they were not quite as enthusiastic as he could have wished just now; but he recovered himself dexterously. " And I told Hausberger," he went on, " it was a sin and a shame to waste a throat like that on a Tyrolese troupe ; and, happily, he took my advice at once, and had her prepared for the stage by the very best teachers in Italy and Germany. I'm proud of her success. It's insight, after all — insight, insight alone, that makes and marks the Heaven-born Critic." Rue was writing meanwhile a hurried little note in pencil on the back of a programme. She had debated with herself during the course of the piece whether or not to wmm 236 LINNET send down and ask Linnet to visit them. Her true woman's nature took naturally at last the most generous course — which was also the safest one. She folded the piece of paper into a three-cornered twist, and handed it with one of her sunny smiles to the Seer. It was addressed " Herr Hausberger." " Will you take that down for me, Mr. Holmes?" she asked, with a little tremor, "and tell one of the waiting-girls to give it at once to Madame Casalmonte's husband." The Seer accepted the commission with delighted alacrity. In a moment he had spied game ; his quick eye, intuitive as a woman's, had read at a glance conflicting emotions on Rue's face, and Will's and Florian's. What- ever else it might mean, it meant grist for the mill ; he would make his market of it. A suspicion of intrigue is the thought-reader's opportunity. Linnet was standing at the wings in a flutter of ex- citement, all tremulous from her triumph, and wondering whether or not Will would come down to ask for her, when Andreas Hausberger bustled up, much interested, evidently, with some pleasurable emotion. He had seen his wife between the acts already, and assured her of his satisfaction at so fortunate an event for the family ex- chequer. But now he came forward, brimming over with fresh pleasure, and waving a note in his hand, as he said to her briskly in German, '* Don't wait to change. Linnet. This is really most lucky. Mrs. Palmer — the lady we met at Innsbruck, you know — wants to see you in her box. She's immensely rich, I'm told; and Florian Wood's up there with her. The manager assures me he's one of the most influential critics in London. Come along, just as you are, and mind you speak nicely to her." The lights were left burning long in the passages, as is often the case on first night? in Londoii. Andreas led the way; Linnet followed him like one bMndfolded. Oh, Blessed Madonna, how strangely you order things on this earth of yours sometimes! It was her husband himself, then, of all men in the world, who was taking her to the box where Will Deverill was waiting for her! As for Andreas Hausberger, he stalked on before, elated, hardly thinking of Will — us indeed he had no cause AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR ^37 /oman s ourse — piece of nth one Idressed for me, and tell Madame elighted lick eye, nflicting What- mill; he trigue is r of ex- Dndering for her, iterested, liad seen ir of his nily ex- ver with he said Linnet. ' we met ler box. )od's up le of the just as es, as is led the ■d. Oh, on this himscH, mr to the before. 10 cause to do. The rich woman of the world and the influential critic monopolized his attention. Tyrolese though he was, he was by no means jealous ; greed of gain had swallowed up in him all the available passions of that phlegmatic nature. Linnet was his chattel now ; he had married her and trained her; her earnings were his own, doubly mortgaged to him for life, and no poet on earth, be he ever so seductive, could charm them away from him. He opened the box door with stately dignity. At St. Valentin or in London, he was a person of importance. Linnet entered, quivering. She still wore her primrose brocade, as all through the last act, and she looked in it, even yet, a very great lady. Not Rue herself looked so great or so grand — charming, smiling Rue — as she rose to greet her. They stood and faced each other. One second Rue paused ; then a womanly instinct all at once over- came her. Leaning forward with the impulse, she kissed the beautiful, stately creature on both cheeks with effu- sion, in unfeigned enthusiasm. " Why, Linnet," she said, simply, as if she had always known her ; ** we're so glad to see you — to be the very first to congratulate you on your success this evening! " A flood of genuine passion rushed hot into Linnet's face. Her warm southern nature responded at once to the pressure of Rues hand. She seized her new friend by either arm, and returned her double kiss in a transport of gratitude. " Dear lady," sue said, with fervor, in her still imperfect English, "how sweet that yon receive me so! How kind and good you Ei.glish are to me! " Andreas Hausberger's white shirt-front swelled with expansive joy. This all meant money. They were really making wonderful strides in England. Will held his hand out timidly. " Have you forgotten me, Fran Hausberger?" he asked her in German. Linnet's face flushed a still deeper crimson than be- fore, as she answered frankly, " Forgotten you, Herr Will. Ach, Ucbcr Gott, no! How kind of you ... to come and hear my first performance ! " " Nor me nther, Linnet, I hope," Florian interposed more familiarly, in his native tongue; for he had caught at the meaning of that brief Teutonic interlude. " I shall im 238 LINNET always feel proud, Herr Andreas^ to think it was I who first discovered this charming song-bird's voice among its native mountains." But Will found no such words. He only gazed at his recovered peasant-love with profound admiration. Fine feathers make fine birds, and it was wonderful how much more of a personage Linnet looked as she stood there to- night in her primrose brocade, than she had looked nearly four years since in her bodice and kirtle on the slopes of the Zillerthal. She was beautiful then, but she was queenly now — and it was not dress alone, either, that made all the difference. Since leaving the Tyrol, Linnet had blossomed out fast into dignified womanhood. All that she had learnt and seen meanwhile had impressed itself vividly on her face and features. So they sat for awhile in blissful converse, and talked of what had happened to each in the interval. Rue sent Florian down with a mes- sage to ask their friend the manager not to turn his gas oft' while the party remained there. The manager, bland and smiling, and delighted at his prima donna's excellent reception, joined the group in the box, and insisted that they should all accompany him to supper. To this, the Sar- torises demurred, on the whispered ground of dear Ar- thur's position. Dear Arthur himself, indeed, resisted but feebly; it was Maud who was firm; but Maud was firm as a rock about it. Let dear Arthur go to supper with a theatrical manager, to meet a bedizened youn^ woman from a playhouse like that — and him a beneficed clergyman with an eye to a canonry! Maud simply put her foot down. So the Sartorises went home in a discreet four-wheeler ; but the rest lingered on, and gossiped of old times in the Tyrol together, and heard each other's tales with the deep- est interest. " And your mother ? " Will asked at last ; he was the first who had thought of her. Linnet's face fell fast. She clasped her dark hands tight. " Ah, that dear mother," she said, with a deep- drawn sigh, and a mute prayer to Our Lady. ** She died last winter, when I was away from home — away down in Venice. I couldn't get back to her. 'Twas the Herr Vicar's fault. He never wrote she was ill till the dear God AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR ^39 had taken her. It was too late then. I couldn't even go home to say a pater noster over her." " So now you're alone in the world," Will murmured, gazing hard at her. *' Yes ; now I'm alone in the world," Linnet echoed, sadly. " But you have your husband, of course," Florian put in, with a wicked smile, and a side glance at Andreas, who for his part was engaged in paying court most assiduously to the rich young widow. Linnet looked up with parted lips. " Ah, yes ; I have my husband," she answered, as by an after-thought, in a very subdued tone, which sent a pang and a thrill through Will's heart at once — so much did it tell him. He knew from those few words she wasn't happy in her married life. How could she be. indeed — such a soul as hers, with such a man as Andreas? Their first gossip was over, and they were just getting ready to start for supper, when one of the box-keepers knocked at the door with a card in his hand, which he passed to Andreas Hausberger. " There's a gentleman here who's been waiting outside for some time to see you," he said ; " and he asked me to give you this card at once, if you'll kindly step down to him, sir." Andreas took it with a smile, and gazed at it uncon- cernedly. But a dash of color mounted suddenly into those pale brown cheeks, as his eye caught the words neatly engraved on the card, " Mr. Franz Lindner," and below in the corner, " Signor Francesco, The London Pavilion." CHAPTER XXXI WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK Andreas handed the card to Will with a sardonic smile. " That wild fellow again," he muttered. " I didn't know he was in England. 1 suppose I must go down to the door to see him." But Will glanced at the name in profound dismay. It was an awkward moment. Heaven knew what might come of it. As he gazed and paused, all that Franz had said to him at the Criterion bar a year before recurred to his mind vividly. He seized Hausberger's arm with a nervous clutch, and drew him a little aside. " Take care of this man Lindner," he said in a warning whisper. '* He doesn't love you. He is not to be trusted. If I were you, I wouldn't see him alone. He owes you a grudge. Ask him up here, and talk with him before us all and the ladies." " Did you know he was in London? " Andreas inquired, scarcely flinching. " Yes ; I met him by accident in Bond Street a year ago. I've been to hear him sing at the music hall where he works, and he came with Mr. Wood and myself to the Duke of Edinburgh's to see Szvcet Maisie, one of my pieces. But he was breathing forth fire and slaughter against you, even then, for leaving him in the lurch that time at Meran. To tell you the truth, he's a dangerous man in a dangerous mood ; I can't answer for what may happen if you go down alone to him." " Let mc go down and fetch him," Florian suggested, blandly. " The job would just suit me. I'm warranted to disarm the most truculent fool in Christendom with a smile and a word or two." To this middle course Andreas consented somewhat doubtfully. He knew Franz's temper and his Tyrolese impetuosity ; but as a Tyroler himself, hot-hearted at core 240 WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK 241 lie smile. n't know the door may. It at might ranz had :urred to n with a rake care er. "He vera you, ge. Ask and the inquired, year ago. Adhere he to the of my slaughter .irch that angerous rhat may iggested, ranted to with a omewhat Tyrolese at core for all his apparent phlegm, he didn't feel inclined to parley through an ambassador with a pretentious Robbler. However, a scene on the first night would be bad busi- ness. That touched a tender point. So he gave way un- graciously. Florian departed, full of importance at his post of envoy, and returned in a minute or two with the Robbler's ultimatum. " He's been drinking, I fancy," he said, "and he's very wild and excited; Montepulciano in his eye, Lacrima Christi in his gait, Falernian in his utterance. But he'll come up if you like ; only I thought, Rue, as it's your box, I'd better ask you first whether you'd care to see him." "He isn't drunk, is he?" Rue asked, shrinking back. " We couldn't have a drunken man shown up into the box here." " Not more drunk than a gentleman should be," Florian answered, airily. " He can walk and talk, and I think he can behave himself. But he's a good deal flushed, and somewhat flustered, and he expresses a burning- desire for Herr Hausberger's heart-blood, in a gutteral bass, with quite unbecoming ferocity." Rue shrank away with a frightened face. " Oh, don't bring him up here ! " she cried. " Please, Florian, don't bring him up here. I'm so afraid of tipsy men ; and you don't really think he wants to murder Herr Hausberger? " " Well, not exactly to murder him, perhaps," Florian replied, with a tolerant and expansive smile ; " that would be positively vulgar; but to fight him, no doubt; and, if possible, to put an end to him. The duel in one form or another, you see, is a most polite institution. We don't call it murder in good Society. Lindner feels himself aggrieved — there's a lady in the case — " and he gave an expressive side-glance over his shoulder towards Linnet, ** so he desires to bury his knife to the hilt in the gentle- man's body whom, rightly or wrongly, he conceives to have acted ill towards him. . Nothing vulgar in that you'll allow: a most natural sentiment. Only, as Herr Haus- berger's friends in this little aflFair, we must strive our best to see that all things are done, as the apostle advises, decently and in order." Linnet drew back with a convulsive gasp. Was this bloodshed they contemplated, and were talking of so calmly? 242 LINNET Will laid his hand on Rue's arm. Even in the heat of the moment, Lmnet noticed that simple action, and, she knew not why, her heart sank within her. " If I were you. Rue," Will put in very hurriedly, " I'd let this man come in ; drunk or sober, I'd see him. It's better he should speak with Herr Hausberger here than any- where else. Try to sink your own feelings and put up with him for a minute or two. If you don't, I'm afraid I can't answer for the consequences." He spoke very seriously. Rue drew back, still shrink- ing. Her face was pale but her voice was firm. " Very v^ell, Will," she answered, without another word of demur. "I hate a tipsy man ; but if you wish it, I'll see him here." Linnet noticed the lingering stress of her voice on the you, and the obvious familiarity that subsisted between them; and she thought to herself once more, what did it matter to her? — she was Andreas Hausberger's wife now. Blessed Madonna, protect her ! Florian disappeared a second time, buoyant as usual, and came back in a minute — bringing Franz Lindner witli him. The Seer had left the box some moments earlier: Linnet and Rue stood forward towards the door, as if to break the attack, with Andreas in the background, be- tween Will and the manager. Florian flung the door open with his customary flourish. " Mr. Franz Lindner ! " he said, introducing him with a wave of his dainty small hand, " whose charming performance on the zither we had the pleasure of hearing, you will recollect, Rue, with Signora Casalmonte, some years ago at Innsbruck." The Robbler stepped into the box, erect, haughty, de- fiant. His handsome face was flushed and flown with drink; but his manner was alert, self-respecting, angry. He glared about him with fierce eyes. His left hand, held to his bosom, just defined between finger and thumb the vague shape of the bowie in his breast coat pocket; his right was disengaged with a tremulous quiver, as if in readiness to spring at Andreas Hausberger and throttle him. With unexpected presence of mind. Rue extended her pretty gloved hand towards the Robbler, cordially, as if she fancied he had come on the most ordinary errand. We're so glad to see you, Mr. Lindner," she cried, in a « WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK 243 natural voice, and with apparent frankness — though that was a fearful feminine fib ; "I remember so well your de- lightful jodels! You were a member of Hcrr Haus- berger's company then, 1 recollect. How charmingly his wife has been singing here this evening ! " The Robbler gazed about him, a little disconcerted at so different a welcome from the one he had expected. However, as things stood, the acquired instincts of civili- zation compelled him to hold in check for a moment the more deeply ingrained impulses of his mountain nature. Be- sides, Rue's words appealed at once to his personal vanity. To think that this beautiful and exquisitely-dressed lady, with the diamonds on her white neck, and the dainty pale gloves on her tapering fingers, should receive him in her box like a gentleman and an equal ! How could he jump at )iis enemy's throat then and there before her eyes ? How re- main insensible to so much grace, so much tact, so much elegance? Moreover, he was taken aback by the number of persons in the box, the unexpected brilliancy, the im- posing evening dress, Linnet's stately costume. Rue's dazzling jewellery. He had come up there, meaning to rush at his antagonist the very moment he saw h'm, and plunge a knife into his heart, like a true Tyrolese Robbler, even here in London. Instead of that, he paused irreso- lute, took the gloved hand in his, bent over it with the native dignity and courtesy of his race, and faltered, in broken English, some inarticulate words of genuine grati- fication that Mrs. Palmer should deign to remember so kindly his poor performances on the zither at Innsbruck Then Will came forward in turn, seized the Robbler's right hand, wrang it hard and long — just to occupy the time, and prevent possible mischief — and poured forth hurried remarks, one after another, hastily, about Linnet's first appear? lice, and the success of her singing. It was a friendly meeting. The manager chimed in, with Florian in his most ecstatic mood for chorus. Franz Lindner's blood boiled; dazed and startled as he was, more than ever now he felt in his heart of how great a prize Andreas Hausberger had defrauded him. By trickery and stealth that sordid wretch had defrauded him. The ladies at the London Pavilion, indeed! Whv, Linnet on those boards — Linnet in that dress — Linnet in her transformed and transfigured 244 LINNET t% "li HuJ III ;!i m '11 ■'ill ^1 beauty — she was worth the whole troupe of them! Yet what could he do? Linnet held out her frank hand; Franz grasped it fervently. Her beauty surprised him. She was no longer, he saw well, the mere musical peasant girl ; she had risen to the situation ; she was now a great artist, a great lady, a queen of the theater. Primitive natures are quick. Their emotions are few, but strong and overpowering. Mood succeeds mood with something of the rapidity and successive eflfacement we see in children. Franz Lindner had entered that box, full of rage and anger, thirsting only for blood, eager to wreak his vengeance on the man who had offended him. He had no thought of love for Linnet then ; only a fierce, keen sense of deadly resentment towards Andreas. Now, in a moment, as Linnet let her soft hand lie passive in his, like an old friend recovered, another set of feelings rushed over him irresistibly. His heart leaped up into his mouth at her pressure. Why, Linnet was beautiful ; Linnet was exquisite; Linnet was a prize worth any man's winning. If he stabbed Andreas then and there before his wife's very eyes, he might glut his revenge, to be sure — but what would that avail him ? Why go and be hanged for killing Linnet's husband, and leave Linnet herself for some other man to woo. and win, and be happy with? Herr Will. there, would thank him, no doubt, for that chance ; for he could plainly see by his eyes Herr Will was still deeply in love with Linnet. No, no, — hot heart ; down, down for the present ! Keep your hands off Andreas's throat ; wait for sweeter vengeance ! To win away his wife from him, to steal her by force, to seduce her by soft words, to wile her by blandishment — that were a better revenge in the end than to stick a knife in him now — though to stick a knife, too, is very good requital ! Sooner or later, Franz meant to have Andreas Hausberger's blood. But not to be hanged for it. He would rather live on ... to kill Hausberger first, and enjoy his wife afterwards. All this, qu'ck as lightning, not thought but felt in an indivisible flash of time, darted through Franz Lindner's seething brain, at touch of Linnet's fingers. She spoke a few words to him of friendly reminiscence. Then An- dreas, stepping forward, held out his hand in turn. It was a critical moment. Linnet's heart stood still. Franz WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK 245 n! Yet c hand; ed him. peasant a great are few, )od with nent we box, full ^ager to led him. a fierce, ;. Now, /e in his, ^s rushed is mouth nnet was winning, is wife's but what )r killing me other srr Will ? ; for he deeply in own for Dat ; wait om him, , to wile in the D stick a r, Franz It not to to kill elt in an Jndner's spoke a hen An- urn. It Franz lifted his arm, half hesitating, toward his breast coat pocket. Should he stab him — or wring his hand? The surroundings settled it. It's a thousand times harder to plunge your knife into your man before the eyes of ladies and dramatic critics, in a box of a London theater, than among the quarrelsome hinds on a Tyrolese hillside. Surlily and grudgingly, Franz lifted his right — extended it with an effort, and shook hands with his enemy. Rue and Linnet looked on in an agony of suspense. Once the grasp was over, every member of the party drew a deep breath involuntarily. The tension was relieved. Conver- sation ran on as if nothing had happened. The whole little episode occupied no more than two fleeting minutes. At its end they were all chatting with apparent unconcern about old times at Meranand old friends at St. Valentin. Franz was sobered by the conflict of emotion within him. The manager, with great tact and presence of mind, in- vited him promptly to join them at supper. ' Franz ac- cepted with a good grace, uncertain yet how he stood with them, and became before long almost boisterously merry. Tie kept himself within due bounds, indeed, before the faces of the ladies, and drank his share of champagne with surprising moderation. But he talked unceasingly, for the most part to Linnet, Rue, and Florian ; very little to Will ; hardly at all to Andreas Hausberger. They sat late and long. They had all much to say, and Will, in particular, wished to notice with care the nature of the relations between Linnet and Andreas. At last they rose to go. Will saw Franz sedulously to the door of the sup- per-rooms. He wanted to make sure the man was really gone. Franz paused for a minute on the threshold of the steps, and gazed out with vague eyes on the slippery Strand. " Zat's a fine woman," he said, slowly ; " a very fine woman. Andreas Hausberger took her from me. You saved his life zis night. But she's mine by ze right, and some day I shall claim h r ! " Will took Rue home; she dismissed Florian early. In the brougham, as they drove, for some time neither spoke of the subject that was nearest both their hearts ; an inde- scribable shyness possessed and silenced them. At last. Will said, tentatively, in a very timid voice, striking oflF at a tangent, " She's more beautiful than ever, and she 246 LINNET ill sang to-night divinely. These years have done much for her, Rue. She returns to us still the same; and yet, oh, how, altered ! " "Yes; she is beautiful," Rue answered, in a very low tone — " more beautiful than ever. And such a perfect lady, too — so charming and so graceful, one can't help loving her. I don't wonder at you men. Will, when even we women feel it." They drove on for another minute or two, each musing silently. Then Will spoke again. " Do you think," he inquired, in a very anxious voice, " she's . . . she's happy with her husband ? " " No ! " Rue answered, decisively. It was the short, sharp, extremely explosive " No " that closes a subject. '* 1 thought not, myself," Will went on, with still greater constraint. " I was afraid she wasn't. But ... I thought ... I might be preiudiced." Rue lifted her eyes, and met his, by the gloom of the gaslamps. " She's very unhappy with him," she burst out all at once with a woman's instinct. " She does not love him, and has never loved him. How could she — that block of ice — that lump of marble. She tries to do every- thing that's right and good towards him, because he's her husband, and she ought to behave so to him. She's a good woman, I'm sure — a pure, good woman; her soul's in her art, and she tries not to think too much of her unhappiness. But she loves somebody else best — and she knows slie loves him. I saw it in her eyes, and I couldn't be deceived about it." " You think so ? " Will cried, eagerly. Her words were balm to him. Rue drew a deep sigh. " I don't think it; I know it," she answered, sadly. " O Rue, how good you are," Will murmured, with a feeling very much like remorse. " What other woman on earth but yourself would tell me so? " Rue sighed a second time. " I saw it in her eyes." she went on, looking hard at him still, " when first she noticed you ; I saw it still more when that dreadful man Lindner came up into the box, and she wa'ted trembling, to see what was going to happen. I watched her face ; it was full of terror. But it wasn't the loving terror of a woman who thinks the husband she adores is just about to be attacked ; WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK 247 it was the mere physical terror of a shrinking soul at the sight of a crime, a quarrel, a scuffle. You saved that man's life, Will ; whether you know it or not, you saved it ; for the other was a quarrelsome, revengeful fellow, who came there fully prepared, as Florian told us, to stab his rival. You saved his life; and when I looked at yourself, and Linnet standing by, I thought at the time what a bad turn you had done " " For herf " Will suggested, in a very low tone. " Oh no," Rue answered aloud ; " not for her alone, but for you as well — for you and her — for both of you." CHAPTER XXXII WEDDED FELICITY SiGNORA Casalmonte scored a distinct success. She was the great dramatic and musical reality of that London season. All the world flocked to hear her ; her voice made the fortune of the Harmony Theater. She was invited everywhere — " You must have the Casalmonte," Florian laid down the law in his dictatorial way to Belgravian hostesses — and Andreas Hausberger went always in charge, wherever she moved, to guard his splendid operatic property. And what care Andreas took of her! It was beautiful, beautiful! Unobservant people thought him a most devoted husband. He lingered always by the Sig- nora's side ; he supplied wraps and shawls on the remotest threat of a coming chill ; he watched what she ate and drank with the composite eye of a lynx and a physician ; he guarded her health from the faintest suspicion of danger in any way. On off-nights, he would seldom allow her to dine out or attend evening parties; on Sundays, he took her down for change of scene and fresh air to the sea or the country. Ozone was his hobby. Every day, the prima d^^nna drove out in the Park, and then walked for exercise a full hour in Kensington Gardens. Unob- servant people set all this down to the account of the do- mestic affections ; Will Deverill noticed rather that An- dreas guarded his wife as a racing man guards the rising hope of his stables. Andreas was far too sensible a man of the world to run any needless risks with the throat of the woman who made his fortune. He had staked a great deal on her, and he meant to be repaid with compound in- terest. As for London itself, it went wild about Linnet. Twas the Casalmonte here, the Casalmonte there; the dwa will sing at Lady Smith's to-night ; the diva will go with Sir Thomas Brown and party to supper. Linnet's head was 248 WEDDED FELICITY 249 half-turned with so much admiration; if she hadn't been Linnet, indeed, it would have been turned altogether. But that simple childlike nature, though artistically developed and intellectually expanded, remained in emotion as straightforward and unaffected and confiding as ever. Still, that season did the best it knew to spoil her. She was queen of the situation. It rained choice flowers ; diamond bracelets and painted fans showered down upon her plentifully. Linnet accepted all this homage, hardly realizing its money worth ; she was pleased if she gave pleasure ; what others gave in return, she took as her right, quite simply and naturally. This charm of her simplicity surprised and delighted all who grew to know her; she had none of the affected airs and graces of the everyday great singer; she sang because she must; at heart she was, as always, the mountain-bred peasant-girl. Will Deverill saw but little of her. Twas better so, he knew, and kinder so for Linnet. Once or twice that year, however, he supped after the theater in the Strand with " the Hausbergers," as he had- learned to call them. On all these occasions, he noticed, Andreas watched his wife close. " One glass of champagne. Linnet ; you remember, last time, when you dined at the Mowbrays', you took two glasses, and you sang next day very much less well for it " ; or else — " if I were you, Linnet, I wouldn't touch that lobster. It disagreed with you once, and I noticed in the evening one or two of your high notes were decidedly not so clear or so sharp as usual." " But, Andreas," Linnet answered, on one such occa- sion, " I'm sure it doesn't hurt me. I must take some- thing. I've hardly eaten a single mouthful yet, and to- night I'm so hungry." " It does you no harm to be hungry," Andreas an- swered, philosophically. " Nobody ever reproached himself afterwards for having eaten too little. A taste of some- thing to eat, after playing a trying part like Melinda, before you go to bed, helps you to sleep sound, and keeps you well and healthy ; but a square meal at this hour can't be good for anybody. It interferes with rest ; and what interferes with rest, tells, of course, upon the voice — which is very serious. You may have a bit of that sweetbread, if you like — no ; that's a great deal too much ; half that quantity, '^ ii 250 LINNET ft if you please, Mr. Florian. Pull your woollen thing over your shoulders, so, Linnet; there's a draught from that door! I can't have you getting as hoarse as a fiog to- night, with the Prince and Princess coming to hear you on Monday! " ** Why on earth does she stand it?" Florian asked of Will afterwards, as they walked home together down the unpeopled Strand. " I can't make it out. There she's earning Heaven only knows iiow much a night, and fill- ing the treasury ; yet she allows this fellow to bully her and badger her like this ; to dictate to her how much she's to eat and to drink; to make her whole life one perpetual torment to her. Why doesn't she rise and strike for free- dom, 1 wonder? He'd have to come to terms; she's too useful to him, you see, for him to risk a quarrel with iier." *' She's too good — that's where it is," Will responded, with a tinge of stifled sadness in his voice ; " and, besides, she doesn't care for him." " Of course she doesn't," Florian answered, airily. " How could she, indeed ! — a mass of selfishness like hini ! — so mean, so sordid! But that only makes it all the stranger she should ever put up with it. H she doesn't love him, why on earth does she permit him to dictate to her as he does — to order her and domineer over her? " " Ah, that's how it looks to you," Will answered, with a sigh ; '' but Linnet — well. Linnet sees thing's otherwise. You must remember, Florian, above all things, she's a Catholic. She doesn't love that man, but she's entered with him into the sacrament of marriage. To her, it has all a religious significance. The less slie loves Andreas, the more does she feel she m.ust honor and obey him, and be a good true wife to him. If she loved him, she might perhaps sometimes rebel a little ; because she doesn't love him, she has become a mere slave to do his bidding." " I suppose that's it," Florian answered, swinging his stick in his hand, and stepping along gingerly.'' Z^ro/c de croyance, isn't it? Still. I call it disgraceful. An ex- quisite creature like that — a divinely-inspired singer, a supply-molded form of Hellenic sculpture, whom tlio Gods above have given us as a precious gift for the com- mon delight and the common enjoyment — to be thwarted and pulled up short at every twist and turn — and by whom, WEDDED FELICITY 251 I'd like to know ? Why, by a Tyrolese innkeeper — a mere village host — who arrogates to himself the right of monop- olizing what Heaven meant for us all — Acli! I call it de- testable, just simply detestable. He hardly allows her enough to eat and drink. She might just as well be a sciincrin on her hillside again, for any pleasure or delight she gets out of her success, tied and hampered as she is with this creature Hausberger." " That's quite true," Will replied. " She was happier in the Ziilerthal. She has money, and fine dresses, ."^nd jewellery, and applause ; but, for any good they can f' i ' r she might as well be without them. Hausberger tre (s her as a mere machine for making money for him. He's cpf • ful to see the machine works thoroughly well, and doesn't get out of order — absurdly careful, in fact, for he's by nature over-cautious ; but as for allowing her to tnjcy anything of what she earns herself, in any reasonable way — why, it never even occurs to him." "Do you think lie's unkind to her?" Florian asked, somewhat carelessly. " I mean, do you think he ill-tieats her — kce|is her short, and so forth ? " " He doesn't actively ill-treat her, I'm sure," Will an- swered with confidence ; " he has far too great a sense of the value of her health to do anything to injure it. And T don't suppose he even keeps her actually short ; she's always beautifully dressed, of course — that's part of the advertiseniont ; and he takes her about as much as he can, without risk to her voice, and lavishes a certain sort of wooden care upon her. Hut I don't think he ever regards her as a human being at all ; he regards her as a delicate musiv.tl instrument in which he has invested money, and out of which, during a given n.miber of years, he has to recoup himself and make h"s fortune. As to sympathy between them, wh) . laturallv. that's quite out of the ques- tion ; lie's a harsh, stern man who hardly knows how to be kinrl, I should say, to anyone." Florian brr)ii^!i( down his stick on ihe pavement with a bang. "It's atrocious." he said, snorting; "I declare, quite atrocious. Here's this exf|uisite creature — a banquet fit for the Gods— w'fh her superb voice and her queenly beauty ; a creature almost too ethereal for ordinary hu- manity to touch or hm^l^; one that .should be reserved F. . m 252 LINNET by common consent for the delectation of the very pink and pick of the species " — and he drew himself up to his five feet nothing with a full consciousness of his own claim to be duly enrolled in that select category — " here's this exquisite creature, who should be held in trust, as it were, for the noblest and truest and best of our kind — a Koh-i- noor among women — flung away upon a solid, stolid, three-per-cent. investing, money-grubbincr. German-speak- ing beerhouse-keeper. Pah ! It makes me sick ! This Danae to a satyr! How a Greek would have writhed at it ! " " And yet I thought," Will murmured, reflectively, with a quiet little smile, " you considered her a cow-girl, and looked upon her as just fit for gentlemen to plav skittles with ! " It too a great deal to abash Florian. He paused for a second, then he answered with warmth, '* Now, there, Deverill! that's just like you. You want me to be con- sistent! But the philosophic mind, as Herbert Spencer remarks, is always open to modification by circumstances. Consistency is the virtue of the Philistine intellect; it means, inability to march abreast with events, to readjust one's ideas, one's sympathies, one's sentiments, to the ever- changing face of circumambient nature. When we saw Linnet first in the Tyrol, long ago, why, the girl was a cow-girl ; a cow-girl she was, and cow-girl I called her. I frankly recognize the facts of life as I found them — though I saw even then, with a voice like that, there was no perilous pinnacle of name or fame to which fate might not summon her. Now that she reappears in London once more, a flaming meteor of song, the cynosure of neighboring eyes, a flashing diamond of the purest water, I recognize equally the altered facts. I allow that train- ing, education, travel, the society of cultivated men and women, have practically made a brand-new Linnet of her. It"? that brand-new Linnet I admire and adore — that queen of the stage, not the Tyrolese cow-girl." Will turned sharp down Craven Street. " And I," he said, with a Parthian shot. " I admire and adore the real woman herself — the same Linnet still that we knew in the Zillerthal." Meanwhile, Andreas Hausberger, lighting a big cigar, WEDDED FELICITY 253 had taken his wife down to a cab outside the supper- room. *' O Andreas ! " Linnet cried, in German, " you've called a hansom. I can't bear those things, you know. I wanted a four-wheeler." Andreas looked at her fixedly. " Get in ! " he said, with curt decision. " Don't stand and talk like that out here in the cold street, opening your throat in this foggy a'r after those overheated rooms. It's simply ridiculous. And mind you don't knock your dress against that muddy wheel ! Pick it up, I say ! pick it up ! You arc so care- less ! " " But, Andreas ! " Linnet exclaimed, in an hnpioring )ne, " I hate these hansoms so. Whenever I go in one, he horse invariably either kicks or jibs. I wish, just this once, you'd let me have a four-wheeler." She spoke almost coaxingly. Andreas turned to her with an angry German oath. " Didn't I tell you to get in at once ? " he cried. " Pull that thing over your shoulder. Don't stand here chattering and catching cold all nighi. Jump in when I bid you. A prettv sort of thing, indeed, if you're going to stop and discuss in a dress like that on an English evening upo". these muddy pave- ments ! " He helped her up the step, guarding her skirt with one hand, and jumped after her sulkily, " Avenue Road, St. John's Wood ! " he called out through the flap to the attentive cabman. " Half-past twelve ! Ach, don- ner-zvetter! How late we've stayed! We'll have to pay double fare! Have you got your purse with you?" "Yes" Linnet half sobbed out; "but I've hardly any money — ' enough for the cab in it. You gave me half- a-sovereign, you know, and I paid for those gloves, and got a new bottle nf that mixture at the chemist's." " Only three shillings left ! " Andreas exclaimed, open- ing the purse, and .screwing his mouth up curiously. "Only three shilling's left, out of a whole half sovereign! So! London's the denre-^t town for evervthing on earth T ever lived in. Onlv three shillings left! Well, that's enough for the cab ; it's a one-and-sixpenny fare, and I rather think thev double it at midnight." "Mayn't T have sixpence over for frink(^cldf" Linnet ventured to inquire, in a timid voice. " When they go so t'l ^54 LINNET . !'! far at this time of night, they always expect something." " No ; certainly not," Andreas answered ; " why on earth should you give it to them? If you or I expect some- thing, do other people make that any reason for giving it us? Three shillings is the legal fare; if he doesn't like that — there's no compulsion — he needn't be a cabman Three-and-sixpence indeed! why you talk as if it was water! Three-and-sixpence is a lot to spend on oneself in a single evening." " I should have thought so at St. Valentin," Linnet answered, softly ; " but I earn so much, now. You must save a great deal, Andreas." " And I spent a great deal in getting" vou ti ained and educated," Andreas retorted with a sneer. " But that's all forgotten. You never think about that. You talk as though it was you yourself by your unaided skill who earned all the money. How could you ever have earned it, I should like to know, if I hadn't put you in the way of getting a thorough musical training? You were a sennerin when I married you — and now you're a lady. Signora. Besides, there's your dress; remember, that swallows up a good third of what we earn. I say ivc ad- visedly, for the capital invested earns its share of the total just as truly as you do." ** But, Andreas, I only want sixpence," Linnet pleaded, earnestly. " For the poor cold cabman ! I'm sure I don't spend much- -not compared with what I get; and the man iooks old and cold and tired. I ought to have a shilling or two a week for pocket money. It's like a child to have to ask yoii for every penny I'm spending." Andreas pulled out half-a-crown. which he handed her grudgingly. " There, take that, and hold your tongue," he said. " It's no use speaking to you. I told you before not to talk '"n this misty air. If you don't care yourself whether it hurts you or not, you owe it to me, at least after all I've done for you." Linnet lennt back in her place, and began to cry silently. She U't the tears trickle one by one down .ler cheeks. As Andreas grew richer, she thought, he grew harder and harder to her. For some minutes, however, her husband didn't seem even to notice her tears. Then he turned upon her suddenly. " If you're going to do like that," he WEDDED FELICITY ^55 said, " your eyes'll be too red and swollen to appear at all on Monday — and vvhat'll happen then, I'd like to know, Signora. Dry them up; dry them up at once, 1 tell you. Haven't I given you the money ? " Linnet dried her eyes as she was bid ; she always obeyed him. But she thought involuntarily of how kind Will had been, and how nicely he had spoken to her. And then — oh, then, she clasped the little Madonna hard in her fist once more, and prayed low to be given strength to endure her burden ! CHAPTER XXXIII PLAYING WITH FIRE And yet, Linnet was happier that first season in London than ever before since her marriage with Andreas. She knew well why. In fear and trembling, with many a qualm of conscience, she nevertheless confessed to herself the simple truth ; it was that Will was near, and she felt at all times dimly conscious of his nearness. .Not that she saw much of him ; both she and Will sedulously avoided that pitfall ; but from time to time they met, for the most part by accident ; and even when they didn't, she knew instinc- tively Will was watching over her unseen, and guarding her. She was no longer alone in the great outer -.vorld ; she had some one to love her, to care for her, to observe her. Often, as she sang, her eyes fell on his face upturned in the stalls towards her ; her heart gave a throb ; she faltered and half-paused — then went on again all the hap- pier. Often, too, as she walked in Kensington Gardens with Andreas, Will would happen to pass by — so natural for a man who lives in Craven Street, Strand, to be stroll- ing of an afternoon in Kensington Gardens ! — and when- ever he passed, he stopped and spoke a few words to her, which Linnet answered in her pretty, hardly foreign Eng- lish. " How well you speak now ! " Will exclaimed, one such day, as she described to him in glowing terms some duchess's house she had lately visited. The delicate glow that rose so readily to that rich brown cheek flushed Linnet's face once more as she answered, well pleased, 'Oh yes! I had so many reasons, you see. Herr Will, for learning it!" — she called him Herr ^"^ill even in English still — it was a familiar sound, and for old times' sake she loved it; — then she added, half-shamc- facedly, " Andreas always said it was wiser so ; I should make my best fortunes in England and America." Will nodded, and passed on, pretending not to catch at 256 PLAYING WITH FIRE 257 her half-suppressed meaning; but he knew in his own heart what her chief reason was for taking so much pains to improve her EngHsh. They saw but little of one another, to be sure, and that little by chance; though Andreas Hausberger, at least, made no effort to keep them apart. On the contrary, if ever they met by appointment at all, 'twas at Andreas's own special desire or invitation. The wise IVirth of St. Val- entin was too prudent a man to give way, like Franz Lind- ner, to pettish freaks of pure personal jealousy. He noted, indeed, that Linnet was happiest when she saw most of Will Deverill ; not many things escaped that keen ob- server's vision. But when Linnet was happiest she always sang best. Therefore Andreas, being a wise and prudent man, rather threw them together noww.nd again than other- wise. That cool head of his never allowed anything to in- terfere with the course of business ; he was too sure of Liimet to be afraid of losing her. It was a voice he had married, not a living, breathing woman — an exquisite voice, with all its glorious potentialities of wealth untold, now beginning to flow in upon him that season in London. But to Linnet herself, struggling hard in her own soul with the love she could not repress, and would never ac- knowledge, it was a very great comfort that she could salve her conscience with that thought: she seldom saw Will save at Andreas's invitation ! The next three years of the new singer's life were years of rapid rise to fame, wealth, and honor. Signora Casal- monte grew quickly to be a universal favorite, not in Lon- don alone, but also in Berlin, Vienna, Paris. 'Twas a wonderful change, indeed, from the old days in the Ziller- thal. Her name was noised abroad ; crowned heads bowed down to her; Serene Highnesses whispered love; Arch- dukes brought compliments and diamond necklaces. No one mounts so fast to fame as the successful sineer. She must make her reputation while she is young and beauti- ful. She may come from nowhere, but she steps almost at once into the front rank of society. It is so with all of them ; it was so w'th Lmnet. But to Will she was always the same old Linnet still ; he thought no more of her, and he thought no less, than he had thought in those brief days of first love in the Tyrol. 2S8 LINNET ■i' At the end of Linnet's first London season, after some weeks in Paris, when August came around, Andreas took his wife for her yearly villeggiatura to a hill-top in Swit- zerland. He was for ozone still ; he be''eved as much as ever in the restorative value of mountain air and simple life for a vocalist. It gave tone to the larynx, he said, and tightened the vocal chords: for he had taken the trouble to read up the mechanism of voice production. So he carried off Liniiet to an upland village perched high on the slopes behind the Lake of Thun — not to a great hotel or crowded pension, where she would breathe bad air, eat made French dishes, drink doubtful wine, keep very late hours, and mix with exciting company, but to a chalet nestling high beneath a clambering pine-wood, among Alpine pastures thick with orchids and globe-flowers, where she might live as free and inhale as pure and un- polluted an atmosphere as in their own green Zillerthal. For reasons of his own, indeed, Andreas wouldn't take her to St. Valentin, lest the homesickness of the mountaineer should come over her too strong when she returned once more to London or Berlin. But he chose this lofty Bernese hamlet as the next best thing to their native vale to be found in Europe. There, for six happy weeks. Linnet drank in once more the fresh mountain breeze, blowing cool from the glaciers, — climbed, as of old, among alp and crag and rock and larch forest — felt the soft fresh turf rise elastic under her light foot as she sprang from tussock to tussock of firmer grass among the peaty sward of the hillside. Before leaving town that summer, she had lunched once with Will at Florian's chambers and mentioned to him casually in the course of talk the name and position of their Bernese village. Will bore it well in mind. A week or two later, as Linnet strolled by herself in a simple tweed frock and a light straw hat among the upland pastures, she saw to her surprise a very familiar figure in a grey knickerbocker suit, winding slowly along the path from the direction of Beatenberg. Kcr heart leapt ufj within her with joy at the sight. Ach, himmel! what was this? It was her Englander, her poet ! Then he had remembered where she was going; he had come after her to meet her! Next moment, she reproached herself with a bitter re- PLAYING WITH FIRE 259 ter some reas took in Swit- much as id simple he said, aken the ction. So 1 high on reat hotel d air, eat very late a chalet 1, among e-flovvers. t and un- Zillerthal. t take her luntaineer rned once y Bernese ale to be s, Linnet blowing nong alp resh turf Ti tussock rd of the hed once to him )sition of A week pie tweed pastures, In a grey ath from if) within was this? nembered Tieet her ! bitter re- proach. The little oval Madonna, which kept its place still round her neck amid all her new magnificence, felt another hard grip on its sorely tried margin. Oh, Dear Lady, pardon her, that her heart should so jump for a stranger and a heretic — which never jumped at all for her wedded husband. The Church knew best ! The Church knew best ! For her soul's sake, no doubt, the Herr Vicar was right — and dear Herr Will was a heretic. But if only they had wedded her to Herr Will instead, — her heart gave a great thump — oh, how she would have loved him ! Though now, as things stood, of course, she could never care for him. And with that wise resolve in her heart, and Our Lady clasped hard in her trembling hand. — she stepped forth with beaming eyes and parted lips to greet him. Will came up, a little embarrassed. He had no inten- tion, when he set out, of meeting Linnet thus casually. It was his design to call in due form at the chalet and ask decorously for Andreas ; it made him feel like a thief in the night to have lighted, thus unawares, upon Linnet alone, without her husband's knowledge. However, awk- ward circumstances zvill arise now and again, and we have all of us to face them. Will took her hand, a trifle abashed, but still none the less cordially. " What, Frau Haus- berger ! " he cried in German — and Linnet winced at the formal name, though of course it was what he now always called her ; " I didn't expect to see you here, though I was coming to ask after .... your husband in the village," and he glanced down at his feet with a little nervous confusion. " I saw you coming." Linnet answered, in English, for she loved best to speak with her Englander in his own language ; " and I knew that it was you, so I came on to meet you. Isn't it lovely here? Just like my own dear Fatherland!" Will was hot and dusty with his long tramp from In- terlaken. It was. a broiling day. He sat down by Linnet's side on the grassy slope that looks across towards the lake and the great snow-clad gianiz of the Bernese Ober- land. That was the very first time he had been quite alone with her since she married Andreas. The very first time 26o LINNET since those delicious mornings on the vine-draped Kiichel- berg. They sat there lon^ and talked. Linnet picking tall grasses all the while with her twitching fingers, and pulling them into joints, and throwing them away bit by bit, with her eyes fixed hard on them. After a time as they sat, and grew more at home with one another, they fell naturally into talk of the old days at St. Valentin. They were both of them timid, and both self-conscious ; yet in the open air, out there on that Alpine hillside, it all seemed so familiar, so homely, so simple — so like those lost hours long ago in the Zillerthal — that by degrees their shyness and reserve wore oflf, and they fell to talking more easily and unre- strainedly. Once or twice Will even called her " Linnet." tout court, without noticing it ; but Linnet noticed it her- self, and felt a thrill of strange joy, followed fast by a pang of intense remorse, course through her as she sat there. By-and-by, their talk got round by slow degrees to London. Linnet had seen one of Will's pieces at the Duke of Edi urgh's, in June, and adnrred it immensely. " How I should love to sing in something of your com- posing, Herr Will," she exclaimed, with fervor. " Just for old times' sake, you know — when neither of us was well-known, and when we met at St. Valentin." Will looked down a little nervously. " I've often thought." he said, with a stifled sigh ; " I should love to write something on purpose for you. Linnet. I know your voice and its capabilities so well, I've watched you so close — for your career has interested me ; and I think it would inspire one, both in the lines and in the music, to know one was working for a person one — well . . . one knew and liked, and . . . had met before, under other cir- cumstances." He looked away, and hesitated. Linnet clasped lier hands in front of her between her knees^ on her simple tweed frock, and stared studiously at the mountains. " Oh, that would be lovely ! " she cried, pressing her fingers ecstatically. " That would be charming ! that would be beautiful! I should love that I should sing In something you'd written, and, above all, in something you'd written for me, Will. I'm sure it would inspire me too — it wouM PLAYING WITH FIRE 261 inspire both oi us. I do not think you could wr'tc for any- body, or I could sing for anybody, as we could write and sing, each one of us, for one another. Wc should do our- selves justice then. Why don't you try it? " She looked deep into his eyes. Will quailed, and felt his heart stand still within him. " There are difficulties in the way, my child," he answered, deliberating. " You're more or less bound to the Harmony I think; and I'm more or less bound to the Duke of Edinburgh's. And then, there's Herr Hausberger to consider as well. Even if zve could arrange things with our respective managers, do you think he'd be likely to fall in with our arrange- ments ? " Linnet seized his arm impulsively. With these warm southern natures, sucli acts arc natural, and mean less than with us northerners. *' Oh. do try, dear Herr Will ! " she exclaimed, bending forward in earnest entreaty. ** Do try if we can't manage it. Never mind about Andreas. I'm sure he would consent, if he saw it was a good piece, and I could sing in it with spirit. And I would sing in it — ach, lieber Gott, — how well I would sine in it! You would see what I could do, then! It would be splendid, splendid ! " " But I'm afraid Willdon Blades " Linnet cut him short impatiently, jerking her little curled forefinger with a contemptuous gesture. " What matter about Willdon Blades ! " she cried. " We can easily settle him. If you and I decide to work this play together, the manager must give in: we can arrange it somehow." And she looked at him vvith more conscious dignity and beauty than usual ; for, simple peasant-girl as she was, and a child still at heart, she knew by this time she was also a queen of the opera. How the gommcux had crowded her salon in her Paris hotel ; how great ladies had fought for stalls at her triumphant prcmibrc! " I m'ght think about it," Will answered, after a brief pau.se, half-alarmed at her eagerness. Was it not too dangerous ? But Linnet, quite sure in her own soul she was urging him from purely artistic motives, had no such scruples. " Do try," she cried, laying her hand impulsively on his 'll 262 LINNET arm once more. " Now, promise me you'll try ! Begin to-day! I should love to see what sort of a part you'd write for me." Will stammered, and hesitated. " Well, to tell you the truth, I've begun already. Linnet," he answered, fingering the pencil-case that hung from his watch chain with ill- concealed agitation. " I've been walking about for a fort- night through the mountains alone — Florian wanted to come, but I wouldn't bring him with me, that I might have time for thinking; and everything I saw seemed somehow to recall . . . well, why shouldn't I confess it? — those days on the Kiichelberg. 1 thought of you a great deal — I mean of your voice and the sort of words and chords that would be likely to suit you. I always compose best in the open air. The breeze whispers bars to me. And I've begun a few songs — just your part in the play, you know — words and airs together, Wagner-wise — that's how I always do it. The country I passed through brought the music of itself ; it all spoke to me direct — and I thought it would be something new to bring th's breezy Alpine air to freshen the stuffy atmosphere of a London theater." " Have you got what you've done with you ? " Linnet inquired, with deep interest. " It's here in my knapsack," Will answered, half re- luctant." " Ah, do let me see it! " And she pressed one hand to her breast with native southern vehemence. " It's only in pencil, roughly scratched on bits of paper over rocks or things anyhow," Will replied, apologetically. " I don't suppose you'll be able to read one word of it. But. if you like, you can try," and he pulled it forth and opened it. For twenty minutes or more of terrestrial time Linnet sat entranced in the seventh heavens. She tried over parts of the songs, half to herself half to Will, with many an " Oh " and an " Ach, Gott," and was charmed and de- lighted with them. They were written straight at her — not a doubt in the world about that; and they suited her voice and manner admirably. It's so innocent for a singer to sit on the grassy mountain sides like this, with a poet and composer close at hand to consult and talk over the work they mean to produce together. This was art, pure PLAYING WITH FIRE 263 art ; the sternest moralist could surely find nothing to ob- ject to in it. Linnet didn't even feel bound to give an- other hard squeeze to the poor much-battered, and hardly- used Madonna. She only sat and sang — with Will smiling by her side — there in the delicate mountain air, among the whispering pines, gazing across at the stainless peaks, and thrilling through to the finger tips. " O Herr Will," she cried at last. " how lovelv it is out here — how high, how soft, how pure — how much lovelier than in London ! I've never enjoyed anything in my life so much, since." . . . her voice sank low — " since those days on the Kiichelberg." Will leant over towards her for a moment. His heart beat hard. He laid one palm on the ground and rested on it as he looked at her. He was trembling all over. Surely, surely he must give way! For a moment he paused and debated ; then he rose to his feet suddenly. " I think. Lin- net," he said, in a very serious voice, " for your sake — I think — we ought to go on and find your husband." CHAPTER XXXIV AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE ■'II m When Will, with fear and trembling, explained his plan half-an-hour later at the chalet to Andreas Ilaiisberser. that wise man of business, instead of floutinj^ the idea, entered inio his suggestion with the utmost alacrity. He knew Linnet was still very fond of Will Dcvcrill — and. being a practical man, he was perfectly ready to make capital out of her fondness. It was good for trade ; and whatever was good for trade appealed at once to Andreas on the tenderest point of his nature. He had perfect con- fidence in Linnet's honor — as well, indeed, he micrht have ; but if she chose to cherish an innocent sentimental attaJ'- ment of the German sort — in point of fact, a sclnvannci cl — towards a young man she had known and liked before her marriage, that was no business of his ; or, rather, it was just as much his business as it might help him to make a little more mone} out of her. Andreas Hausberger was a proud and self-respecting person, but his pride and his self-respect were neither of them touched by a purely romantic feeling on his yoimg wife's part towards a rh'uv;^ poet-composer who waj, anxious to write and score an opera to suit her. Indeed, he rather congratulated himself than otherwise on the thought that very few husbands of theatrical favorites had such very small cause for jealousy as he had. So he listened to Will's humming and hawing apology with a quiet face of subdued amusement. What a bother about nothing! If Will wrote a piece for Linnet, why, of course, he'd write it excellently, and write it with most intimate knowledge of her voice, as well as with close sym- pathy for all its shades of feeling". Will knew her exact compass, her range, her capabilities ; he knew also her weak points, her limitations, her dramatic failings. And Linnet, for her part, was sure to sing well whatever Will 264 AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 265 wrote for her — both because it was Will's, and because it was suited to her voice and character. The idea was an excellent one ; how absurd to make a fuss about it ! " And he has some of it scored already, he says," Linnet put in, half-trembling. " Let me see it," Andreas exclaimed, in his authoritative way ; and he skimmed it over carefully. *' H'm, h'm . . . that's not bad," he muttered from time to time as he went along ..." suits her style very well . . . not at all a weak close ; hne opportunity for that clear upper G of hers ; excellently considered piece — have you tried it over, Linnet? I should think it ought to do very nicely indeed for you." " 1 just Stiiig it a bit at sight," Linnet answered, " on the hillside. When I met i I err Will first, we sat down and talked, because llerr Will was tired ; and he showed me his score, and I tried part of it over a bit. liut it was not that which you vvould quiie call fairly trying it. for 1 had not seen it bc-fore, and had no time to study it. Still, I thought it very good — oh. exquisite, perfect! — and I s^'.ould like so much the chance to sing in it." ■* Try it now ! " Andreas said, in his dictatorial tone And Linnet, without any afl'ccted hesitation, or pro- fessional airs, opened her rich mouth naturally, and trilled forth upon Will's delighted ear in a raptured flood her native first reading of his own graceful music. " That'll do ! " Andreas said, with decision, as soon as she'd finished. " That'll do. Linnet, We'll arrange for it." And Will, leaning across to her over the plain deal table, as she stood blushing in front of him, exclaimed w'th de- light. " Why, Linnet — Frau Hausberger, I mean — that's charming, charming! I couldn't have bel'eved how pretty my own song was, till I heard you sing it ! " So that very day the whole matter was settled, as far, at least, as those three could settle it. It was decided and contracted that Will should definitely write an opera for Linnet ; that he should offer it first to Mr. Wells, the man- ager of the Harmony; and that if Wells refused it, it should go next to the Duke of Edinburgh's, on condition that Linnet was engaged for the title-role. Before eve- ning, Will had shouldered his knapsack once more (though 266 LINNET Andreas would fain have constrained him to stay the night at their inn), and, with a timorous farewell to Lin- net at the chalet door, had gone on his way rejoicing, to descend towards Oberwesel. That interview gave him courage. During the course of the autumn he completed his piece, for he was a man of inspirations, and he worked very rapidly when the fit was upon him. The greater part of his opera he wrote and composed in the open air, beneath the singing larks, on those green Swiss hillsides. And the larks themselves did not sing more spontaneous, with heart elate, for pure joy of singing. That one short tcte-a-tcte with Linnet at her chalet had filled his teeming brain with new chords and great fancies. Words and notes seemed to come of them- selves, and to suggest one another; moods seemed to mirror themselves in becoming music. Besides, Will thought with no little pleasure, this new venture would bring him, for a time at least, into closer personal connec- tion with Linnet. While rehearsals and other preliminary arrangements went on, he must be thrown a great deal per- force into Linnet's company. And how delightful to think they would be working together for a common end ; that success, if achieved, would be due in part and in equal de- grees to each of them. Will didn't return to London till the end of October. He had spent the time meanwhile partly in the Bernese Oberland, and partly, later, on the south side of the Alps, among the valleys and waterfalls of the Canton Ticino. But when he arrived at Charing Cross, it was not empty- handed ; he carried in his portmanteau the almost com- plete manuscript of Cophetiia's Adventure, that exquisite romance of no particular time and place, with its fanciful theme and its curious episodes, which proved at last that poetry is not stone-dead on our English stage, and that exquisite vers^ wedded to exquisite harmonies has still its fair chance of a hearing in England. He had only to polish it at his rooms in Craven Street, before submitting it to the opinion of the manager of the Harmony. Linnet came later. She had a two months' engagement first to fulfil in Paris, where Will read, with a little pan^ of regret, in the Figaro how she had turned the heads and captured the hearts (if any) of ten thousand boulc- AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 267 ay the ;o Lin- ing, to course man of fit was )te and rks, on ves did Lire joy ; at her rds and f them- med to s, Will ; would connec- iminary leal per- to think id ; that \U3.\ de- !)ctober. Bernese le Alps, Ticino. empty- st com- xquisite fanciful ast that nd that , still its only to )mitting igement tie pans e heads 1 boulc- vardicrs. Her very innocence and simplicity at once de- lighted and surprised the profoundly sophisticated Parisian mind. All the world of the foyer unanimously voted her tout cc qu'il-y-a de plus cnfantin. " She has afforded us," said a famous lady-killer of the Avenue Victor Hugo, " the rare pleasure of a persistent and unreasoning refusal." So all Paris was charmed, as all Paris always is at any new sensation. An opera-singer insensible to the persuasive- ness of diamonds and the eloquence of bank-notes — all Paris shrugged its shoulders in incredulous astonishment. " Incroyable!" it muttered: " mais eniin, die est jeune, cctte petite — ca vicndra ! " So it was March before Linnet was in London once more. Andreas, ever business-like, had preceded her by a week or two, to conclude the needful arrangements with the people at the Harmony. By the time the prima donna herself arrived, everything was already well in train for the rehearsals. Linnet had studied her part, indeed, in Paris, beforehand, till she knew every line, every word, every note of it. She had never learnt anything so easily in her life before, though she would hardly admit, even to herself, the true reason — because Will had written it. They met at the Harmony the very next afternoon, to dis- cuss the details. Andreas was there, of course — he never left his wife's side when business was in question ; he must protect her interests : erect, inflexible, tall, powerful, big-built, with hij resolute face and his determined mien, he was a man whom no theatrical manager on earth could afford to bully. He bargained hard with the Harmony for his wife's services in this new engagement ; for, indeed, her late Parisian vogue had put up her price another twenty per cent, or so ; and now he stood there, triumphant, self- conscious, jubilant, aware that he had done a good stroke of business for himself, and ready to do battle again on his wife's behalf with all and sundry. So satisfied was he, indeed, with their rising fortunes, that he had presented Linnet spontaneously with a five-pound note, all pocket- money of her own to do as she liked with, on their way to the theater. Linnet stood a little behind. Will grasped he' hand eagerly. She took his in return without the faintest pres- sure — for Our Dear Lady knew well how wisely and cir- 268 7 INNET cumspectly she meant to beha ^e now towards him. The circumstances were dangerous: so much tin- more, i^e- loved Frau, would siie strive to comport lierself as becomt^ a good Catliolic wife in the hour of tcmptati<.ii. "You hke your part. Signora?" Will asked of her, half-playfully, adopting her theatrical Italian style and title. Linnet raised her big eyes. " I have never sung in any- think I liked half so well," she answered, simply. The company assembled by degrees, and the usual pre- liminary discussion ensued forthwith as to parts, and cues, and costumes, and properties. Will's own ideas, conceived among the virgin snows and pure air of the high Alps, were a trifle too ethereal and a trifle too virginal for that practi- cal manager. He modified them considerably. Various points had to be talked over with various persons. In the midst of them all, Will was surprised to feel of a sudden a sturdy gloved hand laid abruptly on his shoulder, and a powerful though musical feminine voice exclaiming volu- bly at his ear in very high German, " Ach mcin Gott! it's Herr Will. So we meet again in London. Herr Andreas told me you had written this piece for Linnet ; but one hardly knows you again, you've grown so much older — and better dressed — and richer! And Dear Frau! in the Tyrol, you wore no beard and whiskers ! " Will turner' "^^ surprise. It was a minute, even so, be- fore he qui /ecognized the stalwart speaker. It was Phil'ppina, still good-humored and buxom and garrulous as of old ; but, oh, great heavens, how much changed from the brown-faced scnncrin with the rough woollen petticoat who had oflfered them milk, all frothy from the cow. in the stone-ware mug on the hill-side of St. Valentin! If Lin- net was altered, Philippina was transmogrified. Her jolly round face was surmounted incongruously by the latest and airiest thing out in Parisian bonnets; her dress was the very glass and mirror of fashion ; her delicate gloves looked as dainty as seven-and-a-halfs are ever likely to look upon feminine fingers. Civilization, indeed, had done its worst for Philippina: it had transformed her outright from a simple and natural if somewhat coarse-fibred cow-girl into the jolly, bouncing, distinctly vulgar type of third-rate actress. With all good-humc ivd co? i scness of her original AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 269 1. The )re, Be- Ijecomcs of her, yle and ; in any- lUal pre- ,nd cues, Dnceived Ips, were it practi- Various In the 1 sudden IT, and a ng voUi- ;o^^' it's Andreas but one older — ! in the n so, be- lt was garrulous ^ed from petticoat w. in tlic If Lin- ger jolly le latest was the ;s looked )ok upon ts worst from a cow-pirl hird-ratc • original nature, she now possessed in addition all the airs and graces, all the coquettish affectations, all the noisy self-- assertion of the theatrical utility. " \\ hy, 1 didn't know you were in England," Will ex- claimed, taken aback at her unexpected salute, and survey- ing from head to foot with no very pleased eye the fly- away peculiarities of her over-trimmed costume. " Then you've taken to the stage ! " He turned hastily to Linnet, and added in English, which Philippina did not under- stand when he last met her, " She isn't surely going to play in this piece of mine, is she? " "So!" Philippina answered, in a very Teutonic voice, indeed, but in our native vernacular. *' Ach, ves ; I am going to play in it ; Herr Andreas has arranched all zat wis ze manager. You are surbrized to zee zat I shall blay in your biece. But I haf blay pevore in many bieces in Paris." Will glanced at Linnet, a mute glance of inquiry. He didn't know why, but Linnet's eyes fell, and a blush spread quid" over that clear brown cheek of hers. It wasn't the familiar blush he was accustomed to see there ; he noted at once some tinge of shame and personal humiliation in the look that accompanied it. But she answered quickly, " Oh, yes ; Philippina's to play. My husband and Mr. Wells have settled all about it." " What part? " Will inquired, with a slight sense of sink- ing; for he wasn't over-well pleased to hear those dainty lines of his were to be murdered by Philippina's coarse gutteral utterance. " Ze Brincess Berylla," Philippina replied, with glib prompt'tude and great self-satisfaction. " It's a very schmall part ; bod I shall do my best in it." Will gave a slight sigh of relief. The Princess Bcrvlla would do at a pinch. If she ninsf sing at all. it was well at least she would sing in so minor a character. Though, to be sure, he had his misgiv'ngs how his water-fairies' song would sound on the stage when delivered with her clumsy Teutonic pronunciation : " Tlipv 'nvpri 'n ftwd) In a pcar'v ■-Ik^II And t^n deck their cell With amher ; . w \ !. 170 LINNET Or amif' the caves That tht riplet laves And the ryl paves To clamber. By the limpet's home And the vaulted dome Where the star-fish roam They'd linger; In the mackerel's jaw, Or the lobster's claw, They'd push and withdraw A finger." He trembled to think what sort of strange hash those thick Hps of hers would make of his lilting vcsification. However, for the moment, and for Linnet's sake, he said nothing against it. A little later in the afternoon, he had five minutes with the prima donna alone in one of the pas- sages. " Look here, Linnet," he said hurriedly with a beseeching glance, " must we have Philippina ? " " There's no must at all in the matter, except the musts yoti make," Linnet answered, trembling. "If you say she must go,Mr. Wells will cut her out, I suppose, to please you. Only " and she hesitated. " Only what? " Will cried, inquiringly. " Only . . . I'm afraid Andreas wouldn't like it." Her face flushed again. Will looked down at her and paused. A great many thoughts ran through his head in a second. Linnet scanned the floor, embarrassed. After awhile, Will spoke again in a very low tone. " I'd let anybody sing. Linnet," he said, " with a voice like a frog's, rather than allow — well, any trouble to crop up between myself and your husband." " Thank you," Linnet answered simply. But she lifted her eyes and gave him one grateful look that was more than full recompense. " How did Philippina learn English ? " Will asked once more, hardly daring to press the subject. " Oh, Andreas has always taken — well — a very great interest in her, you know," Linnet answered, with a faintly evasive air. ** She went with us to Italy. He kept her on when he paid oflf the rest of his troupe at Meran ; and he got her trained under agreement, and put her into a minor AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 271 part when I sang at San Carlo. When we came to Eng- land first, she went for awhile to Paris; but he's always been getting her English lessons everywhere. He has a claim on her, he says, for money advanced to train her for the stage. . . . She's a very good-natured girl, and she's always been kind to me." " I see," Will answered, with a suddenly sobered air. " Very well, then, Linnet," and he drew a deep sigh — though not for himself ; " she shall sing the part of Prin- cess Berylla." " Thank you," Linnet said simply, with a sigh, once more. But till then, he had never thought Linnet had that to put up with. CHAPTER XXXV GOLDEN HOPES IWI Mr. Franz Lindner, alias Signer Francesco of the Lon- don Pavilion, laid down his morning paper at his lodgings ill Soho, with unmistakable outward and visible signs of a very bad humor. Montepulciano and Lacrima-Christi, as Florian put it, had evidently disagreed with him. But that was not all. The subject which roused his undis- guised discontent was the marked success of the woman he once loved — the woman he loved now even more than ever. For this was what Franz had read, amid much else of the same cheap laudatory strain, in the theatrical column of the Daily Telephone. "' The first performance of Mr. W. Dcverill's new Eng- lish opera, Cophctuas ^idrcnture, at the Harmony last night marks an epoch in the renascence of the poetical drama in England. Never has tiie little house on the Em- bankment been so crowded before ; never has an audience received a new play with more unanimous marks of pro- found enthusiasm. P)Oth as a work of literature and as .'i musical composition, this charming piece recalls to niinil the best days of the great Italian outburst of song at the beginning of the century." Franz snorted internally as he ran his eye in haste over the learned digression on the various characteristics of the various operas which Coplir tna's Adventure suggested to the accomplished critic who works tlie drama for that leading ncwspaner. Then, skip- ping the gag, he read on once more with deeper interest, " It would be hard to decide whether the chief honors of the night belonged more unmistakably to Mr. Deverill him- self or to his charming exponent, Signora Casalmontc. The words of the songs, indeed, possessed to a rare de- gree high literary merit ; the music, as might be expected fiom so accomplished a composer, was light and airy, yet with the genuine ring of artistic inspiration ; but the ever- 272 GOLDEN HOPES 273 delightful soprano rendered her part so admirably that 'twas difficult to disentangle Mr. Deverill's tunes from the delicious individualization conferred upon them by Signora Casalnionte's voice and acting. The prima donna's first appearance on the statue as the Beggar Maid, lightly clad in a graceful though ostentatiously simple costume, was the signal for a burst of irrepressible applause from stalls, boxes and gallery. In the second act, as Cophetua's Queen, the popular dizu looked, if possible, even more enchantingly beautiful; while the ex([uisite naivete with which she sang the dainty aria, * Now all ye maidens, matrons, wives, and widows,' brought down the house in one prolonged outburst of unmixed appreciation. Our operatic stage has seldom boasted a lady so perfectly natural, in manner, gesture, and action, or one who allowed her great native gifts to degenerate so little into affecta- tions or prettinesses." Franz flung down the paper and sighed. He admitted it ; he regretted it. What a fool he had been not to marry that girl, offhand, when he once had the chance, instead of dawdling and hanging about till Hausberger carried the prize off under his nose to St. Valentin. It was disgust- ing, it was silly of him! And now it began to strike him very forcibly indeed that his chance, once gone, was gone for ever. A full year and more had passed since Linnet and her husband first came to London. During that year it had dawned slowly upon Franz's mind that Linnet had risen into a higher sphere, and could never by any possi- bility be his in future. He was dimly conscious by this time that he hiiu'^i'lf w mm a nnisic hall gentleman by nature and position, while Liniiel was born to be a s;pecial star of the higher opera. Never could he recover the ground thus lost ; the woman he loved once, and now loved again distractedly, had climbed to a higher plane, and was lost to his horizon. What annoyed Franz more than anything, however, was his feeling of chagrin that he had let himself be cajoled, on the night of Linnet's first appearance in London, into abandoning his designs against her hu.sband's person. He knew now he had done wrong; he oni:^ht to have stabbed Andreas Hausberger, then and there, as he intended. In a moment of culpable weakness, he had allowed himself 274 LINNET to be beguiled from his fixed purpose by tlie blandishments of Linnet and the rich American widow. That would in- deed have been the dramatic time to strike ; he had let the psychological moment go by unheeded, and it would never return, or, at least, it would never return in so effectual a fashion. To have struck him then and there, on their very first meeting after Linnet's marriage, and on tlie night when Linnet made her earliest bow before an English audience — that would have been splendid, that would have been beautiful, that would have been romantic : all London would have rung with it. But now, during those past months, he had met Andreas twice or thrice, on neutral ground, as it were, and the relations between them, thouiih distant and distinctly strained, had been nominally friendly. The Robbler felt he had committed a fatal error in ac- cepting Mr. Will's invitation to supper on that critical evening. It had compelled him to treat Andreas as an ac- quaintance once more; to turn round upon him now, and stab him in pure pique, would be feeble and self-stultifyinj^^. Franz wished he had had strength of mind to resist the wo- men's wiles that first night at the Harmony, and to draw his rival's blood before their very eyes, as his own belli r judgment had told him he ought to do. He had seen Linnet, too, and there came the unkindest cut of all ; for he recognized at once that the girl he had described to Will Deverill as beneath his exalted notice since he rose to the front ranks of the profession at the London Pavilion, was now so much above him that she scarcely thought of him at all, and evidently regarded him only in the light of the man who had threatened her hus- band's life when they came to England. Yes ; Linnet thought nothing of him now ; how could you expect it to be otherwise? She had money and rank and position at her feet ; was it likely, being a woman, she would care greatly, when things were thus, for a music- hall singer who earned as much in six months as she her- self could earn in one easy fortnight? And yet ... . Franz rose, and gazed abstractedly at his own face in the glass over the mantelpiece. No fault to find there ! Many women did worse. He was excellently pleased with his black moustache, his flashing dark eyes, his well-turned figure ; he even thought not ill of his jjlazing blue necktie. GOLDEN HOPES ^75 And Andreas was fifty if he was a day, Franz felt sure; old Andreas with his solid cut, his square-set shoulders, his steely-^'rey eyes, his heavy, unimpassioned, inexpres- sive countenance! Aclt, if onl he himself had the money to cut a dash — the mere wretched rhino — the miserable oof — for Franz had lived long enough in England now to have picked up a choice collection of best British slang — lie might stand a chance still against that creature An- dreas ! It was one o'clock by iliis time. tli(iii,^Ii Franz had only just risen from his nu>"ii i;^- coffee. What would you have? A professional m..n must needs sing till late at night, and take his social pleasures at his cafe afterwards. So Franz was seldom in bed till two or three in the morn- ing, recouping himself next day by sleeping on till mid-day. Twas the hour of the promenade. He vent into his bed- room, doffed his flannel smoking-coat. and arrayed him- self in the cheaply-fashionable broadcloth suit in which it was his wont to give the daily treat of seeing him to the girls in Bond Street. Then he lighted a bad cigar, and strolled out towards Piccadilly. At the Circus, he met a friend, an English betting man, who was a constant patron of the London Pavilion. " Hello, Fred! " he cried, with a start, " how spruce you look to-day ! Ze favorite must have lost. You have ze appearance of ze man who is flush of money. And yet, ze winter, is it not your off season ? " The bookmaker smiled a most self-contented smile. He certainly had the air of being in the very best of spirits. He was one of those over-fed, full-faced, knowing-eyed creatures who lurk round racecourses with a flower in their buttonholes, smoke the finest cigars, drink Heidsieck's Dry Monopole, and drop their H's over the grand stand with surprising unanimity. But his aspect just then was even more prosperous than usual. He seized Signor Frances- co's arm with good-humored effusiveness. " Flush ! " he cried, with a bounce. " Well, my boy, I should rather think so. Wy, I ain't on the turf any longer, that's jest w'ere it is. I've retired from business. Jest you look 'ere, Frenchy; that's gold, that is; I've been over in your county for six weeks, I 'ave ; and danged if I ain't come back with my pockets 'arf bust with furrineerin' money I ** Ik^ T IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) A '^ o ^ A .^^ ,.v :^^ % 4 S^!i "C^- "^ ill 1.0 I.I 11^ i 1.4 Uit23. 12.5 ^ 1^ 12.2 iiil 1.6 *>. '/ B Hiotpgraphic _Sdences Corpc«ration 33 WIST MAIN STMIT WUSTIR.N.Y. MSM (716) •72-4503 f\ ,v ^ %^ <^ o^ '^ T ,.<^ 276 LINNET ■i^ " To my country ! To Tyrol ? " Franz put in, greatly astonished. ** Zer ain't moch money going zere, I fancy. We're as poor as ze church mice. But perhaps," he added, with an after thought, " you mean Vienna." " Vienna be 'an^ed ! " the bookmaker responded, with a hearty slap on the Frenchy's back. To him, as to all his kind, the Continent was the Continent, one and indivisible. He made and encouraged no petty distinctions between F'rance and Austria. ** Vienna be 'anged. It's Monty Carlo I've been to. By George, sir, that's the place to rake the looees in ! You puts down your cash on red or black or numbers, or ong chcval they calls it ; wh'rr, wh'rr, goes the roolett — pop. out jumps the pea — 'Rooge gang!' sez the croopyer; — and you hauls in your money! I tell you, Frenchy, that's the place to make your pile in ! Wy. I haven't been there more'n jest six weeks — an' 1 come back last night with a cool twenty thou' in my britches pocket ! " "Twenty sousand francs? " Franz cried, fairly dazzled. His companion's eyes gazed unutterable contempt, " Twenty thousand francs. Francs be blowed ! " he answered oriskly. " None o' your furrineerin* reckonin's for me, if you please, young man I I'm a true-born Briton, and I count in pounds sterlin'. No, no ; twenty thousand pounds in good French bank-notes — a cool twenty thousand in my britches pocket. I've carried 'em home myself. all the way from Moniy Carlo, for fear of bein' robbed — there's a lot o' shady people down there on the Literal — and I'm going down now to my banker's in the Strand, with the twenty thousand pound, to oay 'em in and invest 'em ! " " And you earned all zat lot in six weeks 1 " Franz cried, his mouth watering. " Well, I didn't exactly earn it, old chap," the book- maker replied with a knowing wink; " though I've got a System. I just let it flow in. without doing anything pcr- tickler myself to 'elp it, excep' it might be to rake in the rhino. But I mean to retire now, and do the toff in future, just runnin' down there again every two or three years, when I feel the shoe pinch, to replenish the exchequer." " How much did you start wis ? " Franz inquired eagerly ; for a Plan was rising up in indefinite outline be- fore his mind's eye as they stood there. W,.''mi GOLDEN HOPES -^n " Oh, I took across five 'underd," the bookmaker rcpHed, with easy confidence, as though five hundred pounds were to him the merest flea-bite. " I woukln't advise anybody to try and work his luck on less than that. You want the capital, that's where it is ; the fly 'uns know that ; outsiders go smash through not startin' with the capital." He took Franz's arm in his own. Luck makes men generous. They lunched together at Simpson's, at the winner's expense, after he had deposited his gains at the bank in the Strand. The lobster salad was good : the as- paragus was fine ; the iced champagne made glad the heart of the bookmaker. Expanding by degrees, he waxed warm in praise of his infallible System. It was fallacious, of course — all such Systems are ; but its inventor, at any rate, implicitly believed in it. Little by little, with the aid of a pencil and paper, and a diagram of a roulette table, he explained to his eager listener the nature of his plan for securing a fortune offhand at Monte Carlo. Franz drank it in open-mouthed. This was really interesting! How could any man be such a fool as to sing for a misera- ble pittance six nights a week in smoky, grimy London, when a turn of fortune's wheel could bring him a hundred pounds every time the table spun in cloudless Monte Carlo ? It was clear as mud how to win ; the bookmaker was right ; no fellow could fail to pull off five strokes out of nine with this infallible martingale ! Visions of untold wealth floated vague before his eyes. He saw his way to be rich beyond the dreams of avarice. But it wasn't avar'ce alon that inflamed Franz Lind- ner's desire ; it was love, it was revenge, it was woundv.ci vanity. At once the idea rose up clear in his mind that if he could go to Monte Carlo and win a fortune, as the bookmaker had done, he might come home and lay it all at Linnet's feet, with a very good chance of final accep- tance. His experience at the London Pavih'on had led him to believe that women in general, and theatrical stars in par- ticular, had all their price, and might all be bought, if you only bid high enough. He didn't doubt that Linnet was like the rest of her kind in th's matter. She didn't love Andreas ; she couldn't love Andreas. If a good-looking man, with a very fine figure and a very black moustache, laid the untold gold of Monte Carlo at her feet, could Lin- 278 LINNET %' ••-1"', ,;;!i| 1,;, :■: '■.;i|l net resist ? Would she care to resist him ? Franz opined she would not. He didn't think it likely. There was only one thing needed to break the slender tie that bound her to Andreas. That one thing he would get — money, money, money ! So, from that day forth, Franz Lindner's life was changed. He began to work on quite a new basis. Hith- erto, like most others of his trade and class, he had spent all he earned as fast as he got it. ;^Jow, he began to save and lay by for love, with the thrift of his countrymen. One great object in life swam clear before his eyes; he must manage to scrape together five hundred pounds, and take it to Monte Carlo, where he could make it by a stroke or two of that wonder-working roulette-table into twenty thousand. And with twenty thousand pounds, he didn't for a moment doubt he'd be able to pay his suit once more to Linnet. «!,;; CHAPTER XXXVI AN ECCLESIASTICAL QUESTION While Cophctuas Adventure was running at the Har- mony, Will necessarily saw a good deal of Linnet. Sig- nora Casalmonte was now the talk of the town. Her name cropped up everywhere. Many men paid her most assiduous court. She was greatly in request for meets of the Four-in-hand Club, for Sundays at the Lyric, for picnics at Virginia Water, for little dinners nt Richmond. To all of them Linnet went in her innocent way — that deeper-seated innocence that sees and knows much evil, yet passes unscathed through it; for the innocence that springs from mere ignorance alone is hardly worth count- ing. Andreas accompanied her everywhere with martial solicitude ; the foolish were wont to say he was a jealous fellow; wiser heads saw well he was only making sure that the throat which uttered such valuable notes should take no hurt from night air or injudicious ices. It was the singer, not the woman, Andreas guarded so close — the singer herself, and the money she brought him. For Will Deverill, however, as a special old friend, Andreas always made very great concessions. He knew it did Linnet good to see much of her Englishman ; and what did Linnet good gave resonance to her voice, and in- creased by so much her net money value. So Will was allowed every chance of meeting her. When the weather permitted it, the Hausbergers often went down by the first train on Sunday morning to Leith Hill, or Hind Head, or Surrey commons ; and Florian, and Rue, and Will Deverill, and Philippina, were frequently of the com- pany. On such occasions, Will noticed, he was often sent on, as if of set design, to walk in front with Linnet, while Florian paired in the middle distance with Rue, and An- dreas Hausberger himself, being the heaviest of the six, brought up the rear with that strapping Philippina. 279 i^^P^M 280 LINNET More than once, indeed, it struck Will as odd how much the last couple lagged behind, and talked earnestly. He remembered that look Linnet had given him at the theater while Cophetua was being arranged for. But, there, Philippina was always a flirt; and Andreas and she had been very old friends in the Tyrol together! On one such excursion, as it chanced, when Rue was not of the party, Florian brought down his queer ac- quaintance, the Colorado Seer, and an American friend who had lately made a hit at a London theater. This theatrical gentleman did the English Stage Yankee in drawing-room comedies to perfection by simply being himself, and was known in private life as Theodore Living- stone. He was tall and handsome, with peculiar brown eyes, brown hair and beard, and a brown tweed suit to match that exactly echoed them. Philippina had always been a susceptible creature — she was one of those women who take their loves lightly, a little and often, with no very great earnestness or steadfastness of purpose. She flirted desperately all that day with he handsome stranger- Andreas smiled sardonically ; he himself was nowhere by Mr. Theodore Livingstone's side, though he was gener- ally a prime favorite ; and even Florian himself, who had resumed at once in London the amicable relations broken off on the Kiichelberg, felt his attentions slighted in favor of the new and good-looking American. Philippina, to say the truth, was all agog with excitement at her fresh acquaintance. When they lunched on the heather-clad slope of Holrnbury, she sat by his side and drank out of the same cup with him ; and when he left them at last to descend towards Guildford, while the rest made their way back on foot to Gomshall Station, she was momentarily disconsolate for the loss of her companion. Not till they had gone a full half-a-mile or more did she recover suf- ficiently to bandy words with Florian. " Philippina has her moments," Andreas said, with his bitter smile, when Florian chaffed her a little on her evi- dent captivation, for the brown eyes and beard of the handsome actor had quite taken her by storm. " Philip- pina has her moments I've seen her so before, and I shall see her so again, I don't doubt, in future. She's always volage." And his lip curled curiously. AN ECCLESIASTICAL QUESTION 281 iw much tly. He e theater t, there, she had Rue was ueer ac- in friend IT. This ankee in ily being e Living- ir brown d suit to d always ;e women , with no Dse. She stranger- iwhere by as gener- who had is broken 1 in favor ppina, to ler fresh ither-clad nk out of at last to their way mentarily it till they over suf- with his 1 her evi- rd of the " Philip- nd I shall ;'s always " Well, volctsch or not," Philippina replied, turning round to him sharply, with one of her arch little looks — Philippina was always famed for her archness — '* volatsch or not, Herr Andreas, I haf always returnt to my olt frents at last, sooner or later, haf I not ? " " That's true," Florian answered, taking the remark to himself, in the Florlanesque manner, and fingering his own smooth chin with his white hand, lovingly. '* And I'm sure, Philippina, if it comes to that, your old friends have never forgotten you, cither. In London or at Mer- an, they've always been the same — to you, and to every- one." As he spoke, he gave a sidelong glance at Linnet ; for though he had said in his haste, once, the grapes were sour, he had never ceased in his own heart to admire them greatly ; and since Linnet had come forth from her chrys- alis stage, a full-fledged butterfly of the cosmopolitan world, decked in brilliant hues, and much praised or de- sired of all beholders, he had paid her assiduous court with every device in his power. It was Franz Lindner's naif belief that every woman must yield in the end to money or diamonds, if you only bid high enough ; it was Florian's equally naif, though a trifle less gross, that every woman must yield in the end to flattery and address, if you only flatter long enough. So he pressed himself assiduously upon Linnet's attention, in season and out of season ; and Linnet, who now regarded such compli- ments as part of the small change in which the world pays its successful entertainers, took very little heed of all his hints and innuendoes. Andreas was wrong, however, in supposing this fancy of Philippina's for the brown-eyed American was merely one of the good-humored Tyrolese girl's passing affec- tions. For once, at last, Philippina was fairly caught in a genuine attachment. *' 'Tis a scratch," Andreas said at first ; *' she'll soon get over it." But, as a matter of fact, Philippina didn't. On the contrary, the attack grew more and more serious. In a week or two, she was madly in love with Mr. Theodore Livingstone ; they had dropped in- sensibly into Christian names ; it was Theodore this, and Theodore that, and Theodore the other thing, till An- dreas, out of joint, was fairly sick and tired of it. What v/as odder still, the good-looking American on his side 282 LINNET l'^:: ■.ill. returned the feeling with interest. PhiHppina had al- ways been a fine-built girl of the buxom beauty type, very large and vigorous; she was lively, and bright, and head over cars in love; and the American, though not unac- customed to female admiration, was thoroughly taken with her. Before long, it was evident they meant to make a match of it. Andreas shrugged his shoulders ; still, he was amused and yet piqued by it. Why any man should ever be minded to marry an ' :tress at all — unless, indeed, there was money in her — fairly passed his comprehension ; he felt sure there was no money in poor dear PhiHppina. For every other purpose, the ceremony in such a case is so absurdly superfluous. However, being a wise and prudent man,' who trusted much to the mitigating effects of time, Andreas threw no obstacles in their way, and raised no objections. He only observed, in his dry fash- ion, more than once to Linnet, " She'll get tired of him soon ; it's always the way with these hot first loves ; like straw fires, they flare up fast, and cool down again quick- ly." The thought seemed to afford him much inward consolation. But though Andreas saw no difficulties in the young people's way, Linnet, with her quicker feminine instinct, immediately spied one. " Is he a Catholic, PhiHppina ? " she asked almost at once, somewhat doubtfully. " Ah, no ; he isn't a Catholic." PhiHppina answered in German, with a nonchalant air ; " he belongs to some queer kind of American religion. I know not what. They have lots of assorted religions in America, I'm told, to suit all tastes. His they call in English a hard-shell Baptist. So, of course, when we marry we'll have to get a dispen- sation." The dispensation, however, proved a harder matter in the end than PhiHppina or her lover at all imagined. The Church was obdurate. Florian, who, as a friend of the house, had been called in to assist in this domestic difficul- ty, and who knew an Archbishop— Florian, in his easy- going Gallio mood, was of opinion that the problem might easily be solved by Mr. Livingstone's immediate con- version and reception into the bosom of the Church ; a course to which he, for his part, saw iv possible objection. But, greatly to his surprise, the American stuck to his AN ECCLESIASTICAL QUESTION 283 had al- pe, very .nd head ot unac- ly taken to make ; still, he n should ,, indeed, hension ; lilippina. a case is vise and [g effects vay, and Iry fash- i of him tves ; like in quick- 1 inward le young instinct, ippina ? " wered in me queer hey have o suit all tist. So, dispen- natter in ed. The id of the difficul- his easy- im mi^iit ate con- !hurch; a objection, ck to his grotesque and quaintly-named creed with dogged persist- ence. Why any man should trouble to haggle about a faith where a woman was in question, Florian couldn't understand — he'd have turned Mahommedan himself, or Esoteric Buddhist, for that matter, with the greatest pleasure, if it gave the lady one moment's satisfaction ; and Mr. Livingstone's own character hardly led him to ex- pect any greater devotion on his part to the nice abstrac- tions of dogmatic theology. But the American, though he dealt largely in fearsome Western oaths, and played poker with a will, and was not more particular in his do- mestic relations than most other members of his own uncensorious profession, yet stood firm as a rock on the question of recusancy. The Inquisition itself would never have moved him. He had no particular reason, in- deed, for his dogged refusal, except an innate prejudice against Papistry, prelacy, and all forms of idolatry; he had no objection of any sort to marrying a Roman Catho- lic girl, and bringing up her future children, if any, in the Roman Catholic religion ; but he stood out firm him- self for his own personal Protestantism. *' A hard-shell Baptist I was born," he said, with great persistence, " and a hard-shell Baptist I'll die, you bet. I was never a church member, nor even an inquirer, but a hard-shell Baptist I was and will be — and be durned to all Papists." To Florian, such obstinacy on so unimportant a point seemed simply incomprehensible; if it had been a critical question, now, about Pacchiarotto or Baudelaire or Pater's prose style, he might perhaps have understood it: but in- fant baptism ! theological quibbles ! an obscure American sect ! impossible ! incredible ! Still, the wise man has to take the world as he finds it. allowing for all existing fol- lies and errors of other people's psychology. So Florian, who was really a good-natured fellow in a lazy sort of way, when things cost him no trouble, went to see his friend the Archbishop more than once about the dispen- sation. He found the Archbishop, however, even more impracticable on the subject than the hard-shell Baptist. Those two minds were built, indeed, on such opposite lines that 'twas impossible they should discuss anything, ex- cept at cross-questions. The Archbishop, tall, thin, ^scetiC; ecclesiastical, a .churchman to the finger-tips, saw 284 LINNET 1* , . • ni ii< ';;:'! in this proposed marriage a breach of discipline, a relax- ation of the Church's rules, a danger to a woman's im- mortal soul, and to heaven knows how many souls of her unborn children. Florian, short, dainty, easy-going, worldly-minded, tolerant, saw in it all only a question of obliging a jolly, good-looking, third-rate actress, whom marriage would perhaps reclaim for a few brief months from a shifting seriec of less regular attachments. But the mere fact that she was an actress told against her with the Archbishop. Why should he make exception in favor of a young woman of ill-regulated life and flippant conversation, who belonged to a profession already ill-seen by the Church, and who wished to enter into one of the most solemn sacraments of life with a professed unbe- liever? The Archbishop interposed endless objections and vexatious delays. He must refer this matter to Rome, and that one to further personal deliberation. He must satisfy himself about the state of the young woman and the young man by actual interviews. Florian. like most others of his type, was patient of delays, and seldom lost his temper ; but he almost lost it now with that grim, thin old man who could make such a strange and unneces- sary fuss about allowing a third-rate playhouse singing- girl to contract marriage with a nondescript hard-shell Baptist I Two or three weeks passed away in this undecided fashion, and still Florian called almost daily, and still the Archbishop hummed and hawed and shilly-shallied. Philippina, all the time, grew more and more visibly eager, and the hard-shell Baptist himself, unable to enter into his Eminence's ecclesiastical frame of mind, con- signed the Archbishop and all his Church to eternal per- dition ten times a day in sound round Western phrases. Florian heartily sympathized with him ; it was absurd to treat so slight a matter so seriously. "Why, Florian him- self, if he'd been an Archbishop (which he might have been in the great age of Italian churchmanship), would have granted the girl dispensations enough in less than half the time to drive a round dozen of husbands abreast, if her fancy so dictated. Hip Eminence couldn't have asked more questions or insisted on more proof if he'd been buying a Leonardo for the National Gallery, instead AN ECCLESIASTICAL QUESTION 285 a relax- an's im- Is of her y-going, 2stion of s, whom • months Its. But linst her eption in I flippant y ill-seen le of the ed iinbe- (bjections latter to ion. He g woman rian, like id seldom hat grim, unneces- singing- lard-shell mdecided d still the shallied. re visibly z to enter ind, con- ;rnal per- phrases. absurd to rian him- ight have )), wonM less than s abreast, dn't have )f if he'd , instead of handing over the precarious possession of a Tyrolese cow-girl to a handsome but highly flavored Western- American mountebank. At last, when Florian returned, much disturbed, from his sixth or seventh unusccessful interview, to Linnet's house in Avenue Road, where he was to meet Philippina and her betrothed by special appointment, his hansom drew up at the door just as Philippina herself and Mr. Theodore Livingstone, in their most Sunday array, dis- appeared into the vestibule. Florian followed them fast upstairs into Linnet's drawing-room. Andreas Haus- berger was there, with Linnet by his side ; Philippina and Mr. Livingstone looked radiantly happy, and bursting with excitement. " Well, the Archbishop still refuses," Florian ex- claimed, with great disgust, dropping exhausted on a sofa. " I never in my life met such a stubborn old dromedary. I've tried him with reason, and Fve tried him with ridi- cule, and Fve tried him with authority, but nothing an- swers. He's impervious to any of 'em — a typical pachy- derm. I don't believe, myself, if you gird at him for a year, you'll get anything out of him." " It doesn't matter now," Philippina answered, glibly, withdrawing her light glove. " Theodore and I haf taken ze law into our own hands. He persuade me to it zis morning. I do not care by zis time, were it for twenty Archbishops." " Oh dear, what do you mean ? " Linnet cried, all aghast, regarding her friend with profound dismay. Philippina held up her left hand significantly. " Just zat ! " she cried, with a little air of petulant triumph, touching a plain gold ring on her third finger. Then she turned to Theodore. " My husband I " she said, smiling, as if to introduce him in his novel capacity. " I'd arranged it all beforehand," the American ex- plained, coming to her aid at once with a somewhat ex- ulting air ; " I'd got the license, and put everything well in hand against the Archbishop's consent ; and this morn- ing I felt I wasn't going to wait knocking about for the blamed thing any longer. So I persuaded Philippina, and Philippina gave way; and we were married by twelve o'clock at a Baptist Chapel, by a minister of religion, as 286 LINNET i'n the Act directs, in the presence of the registrar. 1 expect that's about as binding as you make 'em in England ; an Archbishop himself couldn't fix it up any firmer with a dozen dispensations." " I congratulate you! ' Florian cried, fanning his face with his hand. " You've done the right thing. Arch- bishops. I take it, are impracticable anachronisms. It's absurd to let these priests interfere with one's individu- ality in such a private matter." But Linnet started back with an awestruck face. " O Philippina," she cried, " how dreadful ! Why, a Catholic wouldn't think you were married at all ! There's been no sacrament. From the Church's point of view, you might almost as well not have gone before the registrar." Florian laughed down her scruples. The happy bride- groom, never doubting in his own soul the validity of his marriage, invited them all to dine with him that eve- ning at the Criterion before the theater. But a little later in the afternoon, when the women had left the room. An- dreas Hausberger drew Florian mysteriously aside. " Linnet's quite right," he whispered in the philosopher's ear. " I know my countrywomen. Philippina'll be as happy as the day is long — for a matter of a week or two ; nd then, when she comes to think over what it is she's done, she'll never forgive herself. From the Catholic point of view, this is no marriage at all. Philippina must answer for it sooner or later to the priests : and they won't be too gentle to her." • ti'Si I expect and ; an • with a his face Arch- ns. It's ndividu- ce. "O Catholic ; been no DU might r." py bride- d'idity of that eve- ittle later oom, An- ly aside, osopher's ,'11 be as or two; is she's olic point st answer n't be too CHAPTER XXXVII BEGINNINGS OF EVIL Andreas Hausberger was right. Philippina's nemesis found her out all too quickly. Just six weeks later, Will Deverill had called round one afternoon at Florian's rooms in Grosvenor Gardens. They were engaged in discussing Florian's latest purchase — an etching of a wood-nymph after a new Dutch artist, very pure and precious — when Mr. Barnes, that impeccable man-servant, opened the door with a flourish, and announced in his cut-and-dried of- ficial voice, " Signora Cazzlemonty ; Mrs. Theodore Liv- ingstone ! " And Linnet and Philippina burst in upon them like a whirlwind. Will rose hurriedly to greet them. In a moment, he saw something serious was amiss. Philippina's eyes were red and swollen with crying ; Linnet's, though less blood- shot, looked weary and anxious. " Why, Madre de Dios, what's the matter?" Florian exclaimed in his affected way, rushing forward effusively in his brown velvet smok- ing-coat. " My dear Signora, to what happy star do I owe the honor of this unexpected visit? And all unbid- den, too ! Such good luck is too infrequent ! " " It's poor Philippina ! " Linnet cried, half-inarticulate with sympathy. " She's in such a dreadful state. She really doesn't know what on earth to do about it." Florian smiled the calm smile of superior wisdom. " What, already ? " he exclaimed, raising one impressive hand. " So soon ? So soon ? A little rift within the lute, a little tiff with her Theodore? Well, well, dear, Diva, we know these offences must needs come, in the best regulated families. They're part and parcel of our ridiculous marriage system. Will and I are wiser in our generation, you see ; we keep well out of it." " No, no ; it is not zat ! " Philippina cried, excitedly. 287 288 LINNET Then turning to Will, she burst out in German, *' I've been to see the priest and the bishop to-day, to ask for absolu- tion, and it's all no use ; they'll neither of them give it to me. I've been to ask them again and again these two weeks ; but they're hard like rock ; hard, hard, as that mantlepiece : they refuse to forgive me. They say it's no true marriage at all that I've made, but the lusts of the flesh — a sinful union. Ach ! what shall I do, what ever shall I do? This is terrible, terrible!" And she wrung her hands hard. " It'll kill me," slit cried ; " it'll kill me." Linnet turned in explanation to the bewildered Flo- rian. " You see," she said simply, " she's living in sin now, and they won t absolve her. She may not take the mass, nor receive the sacraments of the Church in any form. She's like one excommunicated. If she died to- morrow, they would refuse her extreme unction ; she would pass away in her sin, and must go at once, straight, straight to perdition." " But surely," Florian ventured to observe, turning theologian for once, in these peculiar circumstances, " her present life — well, my dear Signor^., without rudeness to the lady, we must all admit it's — h'm, h'm — how shall I put it? It's at least quite as innocent as her previous llCk,UM.lS, Linnet made no false pretence of misunderstanding his plain meaning. This was a serious matter, and she felt its full seriousness herself so deeply that she sympathized with Philippina. " You don't understand," she answered, gasping ; *' you don't at all understand ; you can't throw yourself into our standpoint. You're not a Catholic, you see. and you don't feel as we feel about it. To sin once, twice, three times, till seventy times seven, T care not how often — that is simply to sin : and if we repent in our hearts — God is faithful and just — the Church absolves us. But to live in open sin, to persist in one's wrong, to set the authority and discipline of the Church at defiance — ah ! that to us is quite another matter. Philippina may have done wrong sometimes ; we are all of us human ; Heaven forbid I should judge her" — she spoke very earnestly; " but to continue in sin, to live her life without the sacra- ments and consolations of the Church, to remain with a man whom no Catholic can recognize as really her hus- BEGINNINGS OF EVIL 289 've been ■ absolu- ive it to lese two as that ly it's no ts of the 'hat ever le wriinp: kill me." red Flo- ig in sin take the h in any died to- tion; she , straight. , turning ces, " her idenes"^ to w shall I previous nding his d she felt npathized answered, n't throw lolic. you sin once, e not how our hearts olves us. ng, to set ance — ah ! may have Heaven earnestly ; the sacra - lain with a her hus- band — that is too, too terrible. And, just think, if she were to die — " Linnet gazed up at him appealingly. " But that can't be the Catholic doctrine ! " Will ex- claimed with great vehemence. Florian was more practical. " I dare say not," he an- swered, with a shrug — " as the Catholic doctrine is under- stood by theologians, archbishops, and casuistical text- books. But that's nothing to the point. It is the Catholic doctrine as these women understand it, and it's sufficient to make them both supremely unhappy. That's enough for us. What we've got to ask is, how can we help them now out of this hole they've got into ? " T!ie longer they talked about it, indeed, the clearer did this central fact come out to them. Philippina had mar- ried in haste without the Church's consent; she was re- penting at leisure now, in the effort to obtain it. And she sat there, cowering and quivering" in bodily terror of those pains and penalties of fire and ilame which were every whit as real to her to-day in London as they had been long ago by the wayside shrines at St. Valentin. Either she must give up her husband, she said, or her hopes of salvation. It was evident that ^^^ her mind the little peccadilloes which the Church couid absolve were as ab- solutely nothing; but to live with the husband whom the Church disowned, appalled and alarmed her. Her ago- nized terror was as genuine as though the danger she feared were actually confronting her. She saw and heard the hissing flames of purgatory. It made Will realize far more keenly than he had ever realized before the deep hold their creed keeps over these Tyrolese women. He couldn't help thinking how much Linnet would suflFer, with her finer mold, and her profounder emotions, un- der similar circumstances, if even Philippina, that buxom, coarse-fibred girl, took so deeply to heart the Church's displeasure. He remembered it afterwards at a great crisis of their history ; it was one of the events in life that most profoundly aflfected him. Philippina, meanwhile, rocked herself up and down, moaning and trembling piteously. Will's heart was touched. He seized his friend by the arm. " Look here, Florian," he cried, all sympathy, " we must go at once and se^ the Archbishop." 290 LINNET f iif ** My dear fellow," Florian answered, shaking his head, "it isn't the slightest use. I've tried too long, ihe man's pure priest. Hear^- or pity he has none. The bov;els of compassion have been all trained out of him. The simplest offence against ecclesiastical law is to him sheer heresy." " Never mind," Will answered. " We can always try." It struck him, in fact, that the Archbishop might perhaps be more easily moved by himself than by Florian. " Pbilippina must go with us. We'll see whether or not we can move the Churchman." They drove off together in a cab to Westminster; but Linnet went back by herself to St. John's Wood. When she reached her home, Andreas met her at the door with a little sneer on his face. Though they lived more simply than ever prima donna lived before, his ava- rice grew more marked as Linnet's earnings increased; and since Philippina's marriage he had been unkinder than ever to her. " What did you want with a cab ? " he asked, " wasting your money like that. Wherever you've been — without my knowledge or consent — you might at least have come home by the Underground, I should fancy." Linnet's face flushed hot. In her anxiety for her friend's soul, she had never thought of such trifles as the hire of a hansom. " It was for Pbilippina," she said, re- proachfully, with a good home thrust: and Andreas, wincing, imagined he could detect a faintly personal stress upon Philippina's name which almost disconcerted him. " She came round here in such a terrible state of distress that I couldn't help going with her. She can't get her absolution ; she's almost out of her mind with it." Andreas' face set harder and sterner than ever. He eyed his wife narrowly. " Pbilippina can settle for her own cabs," he said with an ugly frown. " What's Pbilippina to us or we to Pbilippina, that we should waste our hard-earned money upon her? Let Pbilippina pay for the saving of her own precious soul, if she wants to save It. Don't spend a penny upon her that belongs to your husband." An answer struggled hard for utterance upon Linnet's tongue, but with an effort she repressed it. Andreas BEGINNINGS OF EVIL 291 lis head, g. 1 he le. The of him. 5 to him ays try." perhaps Florian. 2r or not ster ; but er at the hey lived , his ava- ncreased ; unkinder cab? "he er you've might at I should for her ks as the I said, re- Andreas, inal stress rted him. »f distress t get her iver. He e for her " What's luld waste )pina pay wants to )elongs to 1 Linnet's Andreas hadn't always thought so little of Philippina — before she married the handsome brown-eyed American. However, Linnet refrained from answering him back as he himself would have answered her. The Blessed Madonna in her hand gave her strength to restrain herself. She merely said, with a little sigh, " I never thought about the cab ; it was Florian who called it." Andreas turned upon her sharply. " So, so ! " he ex- claimed, with an air of discovery. " You've been round to Herr Florian's ! And the other man was there, I sup- pose ! You went by appointment to meet him ! " " Herr Will was there, if you mean him," Linnet an- swered, fiery red, but disdaining the weak subterfuge of a pretended ignorance. " I didn't go to meet him, though; I didn't know he was there. He's gone round with her, poor girl, to see the Archbishop." Andreas drew himself up very stiff. He hadn't quite liked that stress Linnet put on Philippina's name, and he wasn't sorry accordingly for this stray chance of a diversion. " So Herr Will was there ! " he repeated, with a meaning smile. " What a singular coincidence ! You've been seeing too much altogether of Herr Will of late. I'm not a jealous man, but mind you. Linnet, I draw a line somewhere." Linnet's face was crimson. " It's not you who have had cause to feel jealous," she answered, quietly. " Herr Will is too good a man to act . . . well, to act as you would do. You knozv what you say or what you hint at isn't true. You're put out because " " Because what ? " Andreas asked, provokingly, as she broke off and hesitated. But Linnet brushed past him, and went up to her own room without answering a word. She was too proud to finish the sentence she had begun, " Because Philippina has given you up and married the American." She had known it all along — known it, and never mind- ed. But she felt in her heart the reason why; she had never loved Andreas, so how could she be jealous of him? He had married her as a very sound investment; he had never pretended to care for her at all in herself ; and she, in turn, had never pretended to care for him. But now, in an agony of remorse and terror, she flung herself on 292 LINNET li her bed and, with white hands clasped, besought Our Lady, with all the strength she possessed, to save her from despising and hating her husband. She had never loved him, to be sure ; but to her, as a Catholic, marriage was a most holy sacrament of the Church, and she must try to live up to it. She prayed, too, for strength to love Will Deverill less — to forget him, to neglect him. Yet, even as she prayed, sho thought to herself ten thousand times over how different it would all have been if she had mar- ried Will Deverill ; how much she would have loved him ; how true at heart she would have been to him. All here- tic that he was, his image rose up between herself and Our Lady. She wiped her brimming eyes, and, with sobs and entreaties, begged hard to love him less, begged hard to be forgiven that she loved him now so dearly. Yet, even in her own distress. Linnet thought of Philip- pina. She prayed hard, too, for Philippina. She begged Our Lady, with tears and sighs, to soften the obdurate Archbishop's heart, and make smooth for Philippina the path to Paradise. For, in a way, she really liked that big, bouncing alp-girl. Unlike as they were in mold, they both came from St. Valentin ; Philippina was to Lin- net the one tie she still possessed that bound her in mem- ory to the land of her birth — the land where her father and mother lay dead, awaiting their soul's return from the flames of purgatory. That evening at the theater, Philippina burst in upon her with a radiant face, as she dressed for her part in Cophetua's Adventure. " It's all right," she cried aloud in German, half-wild with joy. " Mr. Deverill has man- aged it! He spoke to the Archbishop, and the Arch- bishop said Yes; and he gave me absolution then and there on the spot, and I went home for Theodore ; and I'm to spend to-night at a lodging-house alone, and he'll marry us with all the rites of the Church to-morrow." Linnet clasped her hand tight. " I'm so glad, dear," she answered. " I knew he'd give way if Herr Will only spoke to him. Herr Will's so kind and good, no mortal on earth can refuse him anything. He's a heretic, to be sure, but, O Philippina, there's no Catholic like him ! . . . Besides," she added, after a pause, rearranging the folds in the Beggar Maid's dress with pretended pre-occupa- BEGINNINGS OF EVIL 293 tion, " I prayed Our Lady that she might soften the Arch- bishop's heart; and Our Lady heard my prayer; she al- ways hears me." As she spoke, a great pang passed suddenly through her bosom : Our Lady had answered that prayer ; would she answer the other one? Would she grant Linnet's wish to love Will Deverill less ? Staring before her in an agony, she sobbed at the bare thought. It was horrible, hateful! A flood of conflicting emotion came over her like a wave. Sinful as she felt it herself to be she knew she never meant that prayer she had uttered. Love Will Deverill less? Forget him? Oh, impossible! She might be breaking every commandment in her heart at once, but she couldn't frame that prayer she must and would love him ! Oh, foolishness of men, who think they can bind the human heart with a vow! You may promise to do or leave undone what you will ; but promise to feel or not to feel ! The bare idea is preposterous ! CHAPTER XXXVIII HUSBAND OR LOVER The Haiisbergers spent tbit winter in Italy. Andreas thought the Londot. air was beginning to tell upon Lin- net's throat, and he took good care, accordingly, to get her an autumn engagement in Vienna, followed by a win- ter one at Rome and Naples. The money was less, to be sure, but in the end 'twould repay him. Linnet was an investment, and he managed his investment with consum- mate prudence. Before they went away, however, he and Linnet had another slight difference of opinion about Will Deverill. On the very morning of their departure, a bouquet arrived at the door in Avenue Road, with a neat little note attached, which Linnet opened and read with undisguised eagerness. Bouquets and notes were not infrequent arrivals at that house, indeed, and An- dreas, as a rule, took little or no notice of them — unless accompanied by a holder of the precious metals. But Linnet flushed so with pleasure as she read this particular missive that Andreas leaned across and murmured casu- ally, " What's up? Let me look at it." " I'd — I'd rather not, if you don't mind," Linnet an- swered coloring up, and half-trying to hide ic. Andreas snatched the paper unceremoniously from her trembling hands. He recognized the handwriting. " Ho, Will Deverill ! " he cried, with a sneer. " Let's see what he says! It's poetry, is it, then? He drops into verse ! " and he glanced at it angrily. "To Linnet." ** Fair fortune gild your southward track, Dear bird of passage, taking wing. For me, when April wafts you back, Will not the spring be twice the spring?" 294 HUSBAND OR LOVER 295 Andreas ipon Lin- ly, to get by a win- less, to be ^t was an 1 consum- er, he and ion about departure, d, with a and re?d otes were and An- il — unless tals. But particular ired casu- ^innet an- from her ndwriting. Let's see drops into ig?" It was imprudent of Will, to be suu; but we are all of us a leetle imprudent at times (present company of course excepted) ; and some small licence in these matters is ac- corded by common consent to poets. But Andreas was angry, and more than merely angry; he was suspicious as well — beginning to be afraid, in fact, of his hold over Linnet. At first, when he came to England, the wise impresario was so sure of his wife — so sure of keeping her, and all the money she brought him, in his own hands — that he rather threw her designedly into Will's company than otherwise. He saw she sang better when she was much with Will; and for the sake of her singing, he lumped the little question of personal preference. But of late he had begun really to fear Will Deverill. It oc- curred to him at odd moments as just within the bounds of possibility, after all, that Will might some day rob him of his wife altogether, — and to rob him of his wife was to rob him of his most serious and profitable property. Why, the sale of her presents alone — bracelets, Douquet- holders, rings, and such like trifles — was quite a small fortune to him. And, all Catholic that she was, and de- vout at that — a pure woman who valued her own purity high — quite unlike Philippina — Andreas felt none the less she might conceivably go off in the end with Will Deverill. The heart is always a very vulnerable point in women. He might attack her through the heart, or some such sentimental rubbish ; and Lmnet had a heart such a fellow as that could strike chords upon easily. So Andreas looked at the flowers and simple little ver- sicles with an angry eye. Then he said, in his curt way, " Pretty things to address to a married woman, indeed ! Pack them up and send them back again ! " Linnet flushed, and flared up. For once in her life, her temper failed her. " I won't," she answered, firmly. " I shall keep them if I choose. There's nothing in them a poet mayn't rightly say to a married woman. If there was, you know quite well I wouldn't allow him to say it. . . . Besides," she went on, warmly, " you wouldn't have asked me to send them back if they'd been pearls or diamonds. You kept the duke's necklet." And she hid the note in her bosom before the very eyes of her hus- band. mm 296 LINNET Andreas was not a noisy man. He knew a more ex- cellent way than that to carry his point in the end — by biding his time, and watching and waiting. So he said no more for the moment, except to mutter a resounding High German oath, as he flung the ilowers, paper cover and all, into the dining-room fireplace. In half-an-hour more, they were at Charing Cross, on their way to Vienna. Linnet kept Will's verses inside the bosom of her dress, and close to her throbbing heart. Andreas asked no more about them just then, but, all that winter through he meditated his plan of action for the future, in silence. Their Ivvo months at Vienna were a great success, pro- fessionally. Linnet went on to Rome laden with the spoils of susceptible Austrians. For the first few weeks after their arrival in Italy, she noticed that Andreas re- ceived no letters in Philippina's handwriting; but, after that time, notes in a familiar dark-hued scrawl began to arrive for him — at first, once a fortnight or so, then, later, much more frequently. Andreas read them before Lin- net's eyes, and burnt them cautiously, without note or comment. Linnet was too proud to allude to their arrival in any way. Early in April, with the swallows and sand-martins, they returned to England. The spring was in the air, and Andreas thought the bracing north would suit Lin- net's throat better now than that soft and relaxing Italian atmosphere. On the very day when they reached Ave- nue Road, Philippina came to see them. She greeted Andreas warmly; Linnet kissed her on both cheeks. " Well, dear," she said, in German, clasping her friend's hand hard, " and how's your husband ? " " What ! that dreadful man ! Ach, lieher Gott, my dear, don't speak of him ! " Philippina cried, holding up both her hands in holy horror. Linnet smiled a quiet smile. Florian's forecast was correct; Andreas's words had come true. Her hot first love had cooled down again as quickly as it had flared up, all aglow, like a straw fire in the first instance. Then Philippina began, in her usual voluble style, to pour forth the full gravamen of her charges against Theo- dore. She was living with him still, oh yes, she was liv- ing with him, — for appearance' sake, you understand; HUSBAND OR LOVER 297 and then besides — Philippina dropped her eyes with a conventional smile, and glanced side-long at Andreas — there were contingencies . . . well . . . which made it necessary, don't you know, to keep in with him for the present. But he was a dreadful man, all the same, and she had quite seen through him. She wished to goodness she had taken Herr Hausberger's excellent advice at first, and never, never married him. " Though there ! when once one's married to a man, like him or lump him, my dear, the best thing one can do is to drag along with him somehow, for the children's sake, of course " — and Philip- pina simpered once iiiore like the veriest school-girl. As soon as she had finished the recital of her troubles with that dreadful man, she went on to remark, in the most oflfhand way, that Will Deverill, presuming on his altered fortunes, had taken new and larger rooms in a street in St. James's. They were beautiful rooms — oli yes, of course — and Herr Florian had furnished them, ach, so schoji, so sch'dn, was never anything like it. She saw Herr Florian often now ; yes, he was always so kind, and sent her flowers weekly — such lovely flowers. Herr Will had heard that Linnet was coming back ; and he was hoping to see her. He would be round there that very night, he had told her so himself just half-an-hour ago in Regent Street. At those words, Andreas rose, without warning of any sort, and touched the electric bell. The servant entered. " You remember Mr. Deverill ? " he said to the girl ; " the tall, fair gentleman, with the light moustache, who called often last summer ? " " Oh yes, sir, I mind him well," the girl answered, promptly — " him as brought the bokay for Mrs. Haus- berger the morning you was going away to the Continent last October." It was an awkward reminiscence, though she didn't in- tend it so. Andreas frowned still more angrily than be- fore at the suggestion. " That's the man ! " he cried, savagely. " Now, Ellen if he calls to-night and asks for your mistress, say she isn't at home, and won't be at home ill future to Mr. Deverill." His voice was cold and stern. Linnet started from her chair. Her face flushed crimson. That Andreas shoulcl 298 LINNET so shame her before Philippina and her own servant — it was hateful, it was intolerable! She turned to the girl with a tinge of unwonted in?periousness in her tone. " Say nothing of the sort, Ellen," she cried, in a very firm voice, standing forth and confronting her. " If Mr. Deverill comes, show him up to the drawing-room." Andreas stood still and glared at her. He said never a word, but he clenched his fists hard, and pressed his teeth together. The girl looked from one to the other in feeble indecision, and then began to whimper. " Which of you am I to take my orders from ? " she burst out, with a little sob. " From you, or my mistress ? " " From me ! " Linnet answered, in a very settled voice, ** This house is mine, and you are niy servant. I earn the money that keeps it all going. Mr. Hausberger has no right to dictate to me here whom I may see or not in my own drawing-room." The girl hesitated for a moment, and then left the room with evident reluctance. As soon as she was gone, An- dreas turned fiercely to his wife. *' This is open war." he said, with a scowl ; " open war, Frau Hausberger. This is sheer rebellion. You are wrong in what you say. The house is mine and all that's in it ; I took it in my own name, I furnished it, I pay the rent of it. The money you earn is mine ; I have your own signature to the docu- ment we drew up before I invested my hard cash in get- ting you trained and educated. I'm your husband, and if you disobey me, I'll take you where I choose. Now mind, my orders are, you don't receive Mr. Deverill in this house this evening. Philippina, you are my witness. You hear what I say. If she does, all the world will know what to think of it. She'll receive him against my wish, and in my absence. Every civilized court puts only one con- struction on such an act of open disobedience." He went out into the hall, fiery hot, and returned with his hat. " I'm going out," he said, curtly. " I don't want to coerce you. I leave it in your own hands whether you'll see this man alone agr.inst my will or not, Frau Hausberger. But, recollect, if you see him, I shall take my own course. I'll not be bearded like this before my own servants by a woman — a woman I've raised from the HUSBAND OR LOVER 299 rvant — it the girl ler tone, very firm "If Mr. .m/' aid never essed his I other in " Which out, with :led voice. I earn the er has no not in my t the room gone, An- pen war." ausberger. it you say. n my own 'he money the docu- ish in get- md, and if nJow mind, this house You hear iw what to sh, and in one con- veiy dregs of the people, and ')ut by my own act in a po- sition she's unfit for." Linnet's blood was up. *' You can go, sir," she said, briefly. " If Mr. Deverill calls, I shall see for myself whether or not I care to receive him." Andreas strode out all on fire. As soon as he was gone, Linnet sank into a chair, buried her face in her hands, pressed her nails against her brow, and sobbed long and violently. The little Madonna in Britannia metal gave scant comfort to her soul. She rocked herself to and fro in unspeakable misery. Though she had spoken up so bravely to Andreas to his face, she knev/ well in her heart this was the end of everything. As a wife, as a Catholic, let him be ever so unworthy, let him be ever so unkind, her duty was plain. She must never, in his absence, re- ceive Will Deverill ! Her strength was failing fast. She knew that well. Dear Lady, protect her! If she saw Will after this, Heaven knew what might happen — for, oh, in her heart, how she loved him, how she loved him ! She had prayed to the Blessed Frau that she might love Will Deverill less ; but she never meant it. The more she prayed, the better she loved him. And now, why, the Madonna was crumpled up almost double in her convulsive grasp. Philippina leant over her with a half-frightened air. Lin- net rose and rang the bell. It was terrible, terrible. Though it broke her poor heart, she would obey the Chr-ch; she would obey her husband. " If Mr. Deverill calls," she said, half-inaudibly to the servant, once more, " you may tell him . . . I'm not at home." The Church had conquered. Then she sank back in her chair, sobbing and crying bitterly. irned with "I don't is whether not, Frau shall take before my d from the CHAPTER XXXIX DOCUMENTARY EVIDENCE Mr. Joaquin Holmes was making a morning call one of those days on Mrs. Theodore Livingstone — better known to the readers of these pages as Philippina — at her furnished apartments in Bury Street, Bloomsbury. Of late, Mr. Joaquin Holmes had been down on his luck ; and the weather in London that day was certainly not of a sort to propitiate the nerves of a man who had been raised on the cloudless skies of Southern Colorado. Though it was early April, a settled gloom, as of November, brooded impartially over city and suburbs. Mr. Joaquin Holmes was by no means happy. Society in London had grown tired of his seership; the Psycho-physical Entertainment at the Assyrian Hall attracted every night an ever- dwindling audience ; Maskelyne and Cooke had learnt to counterfeit all the best of his tricks ; and things in general looked so black just then for the trade of prophet that the Seer was beginning to wonder in his own inmost soul whether he wouldn't be compelled before long to fall back for a while on his more lucrative but less reputable alter- native profession of gambler and card-sharper. How- ever, being a man of sentiment, he consoled himself mean- while by a morning call on Mrs. Theodore Livingstone. Philippina was looking her very best that afternoon, attired in a coquettish costume, half peignoir, half tea- gown, especially designed for the reception of such casual visitors. And Mr. Joaquin Holmes was one of Philip- pina's most devoted admirers. Florian had introduced him long ago to the good-natured singer, before her mar- riage, and the Seer had ever since been numbered among her most frequent and attentive callers. He could talk with her in German; for, as befits his trade, he was an excellent linguist; and Philippina was glad when she 300 DOCUMENTARY EVIDENCE 30 1 could relieve herself for a while from the constant strain of speaking English by an occasional return to the free tongue of her Fatherland. Theodore was out, she said, glibly, with her accustomed volubility; oh yes, he was out, and he wouldn't be back, she supposed, till dinner. No fear about that ; the horrid man never came near her now, except at meal times, or to go down to the theater. He was off, she had no doubt, with some of his hateful companions in some billiard-room or something, wasting the money that ought to go to the support of the house- hold. If it weren't for herself, and for some very kind friends, Philippina really didn't know what on earth would become of them. The Seer smiled sweetly. He was an engaging man. and when he flooded Philippina with the light of his great eyes she thought him really as nice as anybody on earth, except Herr Andreas. They sat there long, and chatted in that peculiar vein which Philippina affected when she found herself alone with one of her male ad- mirers. She was a born flirt, Philippina, and though she was a matron now, with a distinct tendency to grow visibly stouter on good Englsh fare, she had still all that archness and that liveliness of manner which had capti- vated Florian the first morning they met her on the hill- top at St. Valentin. As they sat there, exchanging a quiet hre of repartee, with many ach's and so's of very Teutonic playfulness, the lodging-house servant came up with a note, which Philip- pina tore open and read through somewhat eagerly. The Seer noticed that as she read it her color deepened — such signs of feeling seldom escaped the eyes of that observant thought-reader. He noticed also that the envelope, though directed in English letters, bore evident traces of a German hand in the twists and twirls of the very pe- culiar manuscript. He could see from where he sat an unmistakable curl over the u of Bury Street. A curl like that could only have been produced by a person accus- tomed to German writing. Philippina crumpled the envelope, and looked vacantly at the fireplace. The fire wasn't lighted, for the day, though damp and dark, was by no means chilly. The Seer noted that glance: so she wanted to burn it, then! ^n^^m 302 LINNET m m Philippina, unheeding him, poked the envelope through the bars of the grate with the aid of the tongs, but laid the note itself on the table by her side, a little uneasily. The Seer, with that native quickness of perception whicli had made him into a thought-reader, divined at once what was passing through her mind ; she must destroy that note before Theodore returned, and she was anxious in her own soul for a chance of destroying it. Joaquin Holmes spotted a mystery — perhaps an in- trigue ; but, in any case, a mystery. Now little family af- fairs of this sort were part and parcel of his stock-in- trade ; there was nothing so useful to him in life as posses- sion of a secret. And Philippina was indeed an open book ; he could read her as easily as he could read a pack of cards with the tips of his fingers. The longer he stopped, the more obviously and evidently Philippina fidgeted ; the more she fidgeted, the longer he determined, as he phrased it to himself with Western frankness, " to stop and see the fun out." Philippina grew more and more silent as time went by ; the Seer talked on and on with more unceasing persistence. Meanwhile, the fo^ without grew denser and denser. At last, of a sudden, it descended, pitch dark, with that surprising rapidity we all know so well in our smoky metropolis. Philippina yawned ; she saw there was no help for it. It was a case for the gas. " Will you ring the bell, Mr. Holmes ? " she asked languidly, in German. The Seer seized his chance, and rose briskly to obey her. As he brushed past her side, Philippina, in a quiver, put out her hand for her letter. The room was black as night. She fumbled for it in vain ; a cold chill came over her. "Why, where's that paper?" she exrlaimed, in a tone of most evident and undisguised dismay. " I wish I had a match. It was lying here a minute ago." Mr. Holmes stood calmly in the dark, with his hand upon the bell-handle. He was in no hurry to ring it. " You'll have to wait now," he said, in bin very coolest manner, " till the servant cames up. Unforiunately, I don't happen to have a match about me." " There are some upon the mantelpiece, perhaps," Philippina faltered unwilling to rise and move away from the tab'e that held that compromising letter. DOCUMENTARY EVIDENCE 303 through but laid uneasily. 3n which nee what that note I her own s an in- iamily af- stock-in- as posses- an open ad a pack- longer he PhiHppina ^termined, mess, " to more and on and on e, the fos a sudden, apidity we hiHppina was a case holmes ? " Iv to obey 1 a quiver. IS black as came over imed, in a " I wish >> his hand o ring it. sry coolest unately, I perhaps," iway from "Oh, that's all right!" the Seer said quietly, in his slow Western drawl. " Don't trouble yourself about me. I can see very well in the dark without one." Then he began to read aloud, *' Du liebste Philippina ! " Philippma made a wild dash across the room in his direction. This was horrible! He had abstracted it! But the Seer, unabashed, took a step or two backward with great deliberation. " That's all right ! " he said again, in a languid tone of the blandest unconr^ern. "There's nothing fresh here; you needn't trouble your- self. It's only a little note from a very old friend, signed, ' Thy ever affectionate, Andreas Hausberger.' " Philippina darted once more blindly in the direction of the voice; Joaquin Plolmes heard her coming, and step- ped aside noiselessly. He passed his practised finger- tips again over the lines of the writing. " Very pretty ! " he said, smiling. " Very nice, indeed — for Signora Casalmonte! Why, I fancied you were her friend. This is charming, charming! And only to think so pru- dent a man as our dear friend Hausberger should have ventured to write such a compromising letter ! * At three o'clock to-morrow, at the usual place,' he says. Dear me, that's interesting! So you've met him there before! And what a fool the man must be to go and put it on paper ! " Philippina clasped her hands, and dashed wildly against the sofa. " Oh, give it back to me ! " she cried, really alarmed. " What will Andreas ever say ! How can you be so cruel ? And my husband — my husband ! " The American, still wholly undisconcerted by her cries, popped the paper inside his breast-coat pocket, buttoned it up securely, drew a match-box from his waistcoat, and lighted the gas with a calm air of triumph. " Now, don't he a fool, Philippina," he said, taking hold of her by those plump round arms of hers, and pushing her back with conspicuous calmness into an easy-chair. " Compose yourself! Compose yourself! There's nothing new in all this; we all know what you are — Theodore Living- sione. I suppose, just as well as the rest of us. Why trouble to give yourself these airs of tragic virtue? To tell you the truth, my dear girl, they don't at all become you. Nobody expects miracles from an actress nowadays m 304 LINNET •m — not even her husband. Besides, I'm not going to make money out of you; you're a very nice girl, and you've al- ways been kind to me ; so why should I want to show this letter to Theodore? What's Theodore to me, or I to Theodore, that I should bother my head !o uphold his do- mestic dignity? No, no, my child; that's not the game. I hold the letter as a threat over Andreas Hausberger. Hausberger's rich, don't you see, 'md his wife's his for- tune. What's more, she hates him, and he keeps her al- ways precious short of money. She'll be ready to pay anything for a letter like this ; it's a handle against him ; and he, for his part, well- —he'll make any terms she likes rather than drive her away from him." He took up his hat. and made a courtly bow " Good- by, Philippina," he said, smiling ; " this'll never come out at all, as far as regards yourself and your husband. Hausberger'd pay me well to keep the thing out of court ; but I shan't take it to him; I'll go and offer it direct, money down, to ;he Casalmonte." He walked lightly to the door, leaving Philippina petri- fied. He turned into the street: the fog began to lift again. He walked briskly on in the direction of Portland Place. Before he crossed the Regent's Park, he had made up his mind to his plan of action. It was no use trying to blackmail a cool hand like Andreas ; he must offer the let- ter, as he said, direct to Linnet. He didn't doubt she would gladly seize on the pretext for a divorce, or at least a rupture. It would give her a good excuse for going away from the man whom his observation and instinct had rightly taught him she despised and detested. He rang at the door in Avenue Road. By a lucky chance, he found Linnet in — and alone : her husband, she said, was out ; he had gone for the day, she thought, with a party down to Greenwich. The Seer didn't mince matters. With American direct- ness, he went straight to the root of things. " I'm glad of that," he said, coolly, " for I didn't want to see him. T wanted to see you alone. I've got something against him I want to sell you." " Something against him? " Linnet cried, puzzled. " I don't know what you mean, Mr. Holmes; and why on earth should you think Fd care to buy it? " DOCUMENTARY EVIDENCE 205 " Now, just you look here," the Seer went on, holding the letter, face downward, before him and fumbling it with his fingers; "why shouldn't we speak straight? What's the good of going beating about the bash like this? Let's talk fair and square. You hate your husband." Linnet rose and faced him. She was flushed and angry. " You've no right to say that," she cried. " I never told you so." The Seer smiled sweetly. " I wouldn't be a thought- reader," he answered, with unaffected frankness, " if I needed to be told a thing in order to know it. But that's neither here nor there. Don't let's quarrel about these trifles. The real thing's this. I have a letter in my hand here that may be of great use to you, if you want to get away from this man — as you do — and to marry Mr. Deverill." Linnet's face was crimson with shame and indignation. " How dare you say such a thing, sir ! " she cried, trying to move towards the door. " You knoiv it isn't true. I never dreamt of marrying him." By a quick flank movement, the Seer sprang in front of her and cut off her retreat. " That won't do," he said, sharply. " You can't deceive me like that. Remember, I can read your inmost thoughts as readily as 1 can read this letter in my hand. I'll read it to you now. It's to your friend Mrs. Livingstone." And, without a passing tremor on that handsome face or a quiver in his voice, he read out with his fingers the short compromising note, from " Thou dearest Philippina " down to " Thy ever aff'ectionate, Andreas Hausberger." Linnet faced him, unmoved externally but with a throb- bing heart. The Seer, as he finished it, darted a trium- phant glance at her. " Well ? " Linnet said quietly, drawing herself up to her full height. " Well, what'll you give me for that, in plain black and white? " the Seer asked, with a calm tone of unquestioned victory. "Nothing!" Linnet answered, moving once more to- wards the door. " It's nothing fresh to me. I knew all that, oh, long ago." "Knew it? Ah, yes, no doubt," the Seer answered, nr^mmm^ nil •in I 306 LINNET lllilil I with a curl of those handsome lips. " There's nothing much in that. Of course we all knew it. But it's not enough knowing it. You want it written down in plain black and white, to put in evidence against him. You sec he acknowledges — " Linnet cut him short sharply. " To put it in evidence ? " she repeated, staring at him with a bewildered look. " In evidence against whom? What on earth can you mean? To put in evidence where? I don't understand you." " Now, don't let's waste useful time," the Seer in- terposed seriously. " This is a practical matter. There's no knowing how soon your husband may return. I just mean business. I want to hear, straight and short, what you'll give for this letter. We all know very well you've got enough already to prove the count of cruelty upon. You've only got to prove the other thing in order to get a regular divorce from him. And the proof of it's here, in plain black and white, under his own very hand, in this letter I've read to you. Now what do you offer ? If you name my figure, it's yours ; if you don't — well. Philippina's a very good friend of mme ; here goes — I'll burn it ! " He held it over the fire, which was burning in the grate, as he looked hard into her eyes. Linnet drew back a pace or two, and faced him proudly. " Mr. Holmes," ^lic said, in her very coldest voice, " you entirely misunder- stand. You reckon without your host. You forget I'm a Catholic. Divorce to me means absolutely nothing. I'm Andreas Hausberger's wife before the eye of God, and all the law-courts on earth could never make me other- wise — could never set me free to be anyone else's. So your letter would be absolutely no use at all to me. I knew pretty well, long since, the main fact it implies ; and it mat- tered very little to me. Andreas Hausberger is my hi - band — as such, I obey hiin, by the law of God — but ho never had my heart ; and I never had his. On no ground whatsoever do I value your document." The Seer, in turn, drew back in incredulous amaze- ment. Was she trying to cheapen him? He interpreted her words after his own psychology. " No ; yon don't mean that," he said, with an unbelieving air. " You'd qct a divorce if you could, of course, like anyone else; and DOCUMENTARY EVIDENCE 307 you'd marry that man Deverill. Don't think I'm such a fool as not to know how you feel to him. But you're seem- ing to hang back so as to knock down my price. You want to get it a bargain. You think you can best me. Now, don't let's lose time haggling. Make me an offer, money down, and I'll tell you at once whether or not I'll entertain it." Linnet gazed at him in unspeakable scorn and contempt. " Do you think," she said, advancing a step, " I'd bargain with you to buy a wretched thing like that ! If I wanted to leave my husband, I'd leave him outright, letter or no letter. I stop with him now, of my own free will, by the Church's command, and from a sense of duty." So far as the Seer was concerned, this strange woman spoke a fore' n language. Duty was a word that didn't enter into his vocabulary. He scanned her from head to foot, as one might scan some queer specimen of an un- known wild species. " You can't possibly mean that," he cried, with a discordant little laugh, for he was used to the free Western notions on these subjects. " Come now, buy it or not ! " he went on, dangling the letter before her face between finger and thumb. " It's going, going, going ! Won't you make me a bid for it ? " He shook it temptingly, held it aloft; it was valuable evidence. As he did so. the paper slipped all of a sudden from his grasp, and fell fluttering at Linnet's feet. Mr. Holmes was quick, but Linnet was quicker still. Before he could stoop to pick it up, she had darted down upon it and seized it. Then with lightning haste, she thrust it inside her dress, in the shelter of her bosom. The baffled Seer seized her hand — too late to prevent her. " Give it back to me ! " he cried, twisting her wrist as he spoke. " How dare you take it ? That's a dirty trick to play a man. It's mine, I say ; give it back to me ! " Though he hurt her wrist and frightened her. Linnet stood her ground well. She was stronger than he thought — with all the stored-up strength of her mountain rear- ing. She pushed him back with a sudden burs*- of explo- sive energy. " You're wrong." she cried, indignantly. " It never was yours, — though I don't know how you got it. You must have stolen it, no doubt, or intercepted it m^ n\\v\ m 308 LINNET by some vile means, and then tried to make money out of it. I don't want it myself, but I won't give it back. It belongs to Philippina, and I mean to return it to her." " That's a lie ! " the Seer answered, catching her hands with a hasty dash, and trying to force her on her knees. " Damn your tricks ; I'll have it back again ! " And, in the heat of his rage, he tried to unfasten her dress and snatch it from her bosom. She tore herself away. The Seer followed her, still struggling. It was a hand-to-hand grapple. He fought her for it wildly. At that very moment, before Linnet had time to scream for help, the door opened suddenly, and — Andreas Haus- berger entered. 1 II III. f '» ■ ;y out of 3ack. It ler." ler hands er knees, nd, in the tid snatch her, still le fought to scream ;as Haus- CHAPTER XL OPEN WAR He glared at them for a moment before he fully took it in. The Seer, thus suddenly surprised, loosed his hold on Linnet, and drew back instinctively. But an awful feeling of doubt came over Linnet's mind. The position was most equivocal — nay, even compromising. Would Andreas mis- understand what this man was doing with her — one hand held on her wrist, and one clutching at her bosom ? But Andreas knew that simple loyal nature too well to doubt her relations with anyone — except Will Deverill. As he stood there and stared, he saw only that the Ameri- can had been offering violence — personal violence — to Lin- net. His hot Tyrolese blood boiled at once at that insult. He sprang forward and caught Joaquin Holmes by the throat. " You scoundrel ! " he cried through his clenched teeth ; " what are you doing to my wife ? How dare you touch her like that? How dare you lay your blackguard hands upon her? The Coloradan freed himself with a jerk, and shook off his assailant, for he was a powerful man, too, though less sturdy than Andreas. He drew back half-a-pace, and faced the infuriated husband. His hand wandered half me- chanically to the faithful six-shooter, which after all those years in civilized England old habit still made him carry always in his pocket. But he thought better of it after a moment — these Britishers have such a nasty insular way of stringing one up for the merest accident ! — ^and answered instead, with n ugly smile, " It's her fault, not mine. She snatched a letter away from me. It's my own, and I want it back. She won't give it up to me." Andreas Hausberger had his faults; but he had too much sense of dignity to bandy words with an intruder who had insulted his wife — above all, to bandy them in his wife's very presence. It mattered little to him just then 309 if I 310 LINNET lllll! fl)Kl ' ' I 'llli what that question about the letter might really import. He stepped forward in his wrath once more, and caught the Seer by the shoulders. " You cur ! " he cried, pushing him before him. " How dare you answer me likv that? " And, with a sudden wrench, he flung the fellow against the door, bruising and hurting him violently. The Coloradan rushed back on him. There was a short, sharp scufile. Then Andreas, getting the better, opened the door with a dash, and dragged his opponent after him. At the head of the stairs, he paused, and gave him a sound- ing kick. The Coloradan writhed and squirmed, but, strong as he was, he found himself no match for the gi- gantic Tyroler. Besides, he was less used than his antago- nist to these hand-to-hand struggles. Andreas, for his part, was quite in his element. " A Wirth who can't turn out a noisy or drunken guest, isn't worth his salt," he had said one day to Florian long ago in the Zillerthal ; he was well used, indeed, of old to such impromptu encounters. The Seer on the contrary was more accustomed to the bowie and the six-shooter than to wrestling and. scuffling. He yielded after a moment to Andreas's heavy hand, only stopping to shout back through the open drawing-room door, " Then you owe me fifty pounds, Signora, for that letter ! " Andreas hauled him down the stairs, dragged him, half- resisting, through the hall and vestibule, opened the front door with one free hand, hastily, and kicked his man down the steps with a volley of angry oaths in his native Ger- man. Then he slammed the door in the face of the dis- comfited Seer (who had rushed back again to assault him), and went upstairs once more, as outwardly cool as he could, but hot in the face and hotter at heart, to Linnet. Linnet was really grateful to him. The man had fright- ened her. For the first time in her life, she admired her husband. The natural admiration that all her sex feel for physical strength and prowess 'n men was exceptionally marked in her, as in most other women of prim.itive com- munities. " Thank you," she said simply, as Andreas strolled in, trying to look unconcerned, with his hands in his pockets, and confronted her stonily. ** The man hurt my wrist. If you hadn't come in, I don't know what on earth he might ever have done to me." OPEN WAR 3" Andreas stared at her in silence with close-knit brows for half-a-minute. Then he said in an insolent tone, " Now, tell me, what's all this fuss he was making about some letter ? " His question brought Linnet back to herself with a sud- den revulsion of feeling. In the tremulousness of those two scuffles, she had almost forgotten for the moment all about the first cause of them. But now, she looked her husband back straight in the face, and, without flinching or hesitating, she answered him in a scarcely audible voice, "He brought me the last letter you wrote to Philippina. The one making an appointment at the usual place for three to-morrow. I don't know how he got it, but he wanted to sell it to me." Andreas never moved a muscle of that impassive face, but his color came and went, and his breath stopped shor^, as he stood still and stared at her. '* My last letter to Philippina ! " he repeated, with a glow of shame. " And that fellow dare to show it to you ! I'd have choked him if I'd known ! The mean scoundrelly eavesdropper ! " Linnet folded her hands in front of her where she sat on her low chair. Her air was resigned. She hardly seemed to notice him. "You needn't be afraid," she said. '* It's no matter to me. I guessed all that long ago. I didn't want your letters, or hers either, to prove it to me. I told him as much. To me, at least, it's no matter." " And he offered to sell it to you ? " Andreas cried, growing in wrath. " He tried to make money of it ! What did he want you to buy it for ? " " He said I could get a divorce with it," Linnet answered simply. " A divorce ! " Andreas shouted, losing control of him- self for once. That word went straight home to all the deepest chords of his sordid nature. '* He wanted to egg you on, then, to try and get a divorce from me! He wanted to cheat me of all I've worked and toiled for!" he flung himself into a chair, and clenched his fists, and ground his teeth. " The damned rogue ! " he cried once more. " When I get at him, oh. I'll throttle him ! " He sat for a minute or two revolving many things angrily in his own burning soul. He had not only Linnet to think of now, but Philippina, too, and her husband. 312 LINNET M Heaven only knew what harm Jiat man might do him in revenge for his drubbing, what scandal he might raise, what devils he might let loose upon him. If Linnet left him now, all the world would say she was amply justified. And the English law would allow her a divorce ! No ; not without cruelty ! and he had never been cruel to her. There was comfort in that: he consoled himself in part with it. He had spoken harshly to her at times, perhaps, and taken care of her money for her — women are so reckless that a man must needs look after them. But cruel ! oh no, no ; she could never prove that against him ! " Divorce ! " he said slowly, knitting his brows, and leaning forward. " He talked to you of divorce. Linnet ! That's all pure gammon. There's no divorce for a woman, by English law, without cruelty or desertion. I've never been cruel to you, and I'm not likely to desert you. You can't get a divorce, I say. You can't get a divorce ! You surely didn't promise him fifty pounds for that letter ! " " No; 1 didn't," Linnet answered. " I told him I didn't want it. Divorce would be no use in the world to me. I'm a Catholic, as you know and I believe my religion." Andreas stared at her hard. He fingered his chin thoughtfully. She had struck the right chord. How fool- ish of him in his haste not to have thought of that by pure instinct! Divorce, indeed! Why, of course, the Church wouldn't hear of it. To think that a Tyrolese woman would accept the verdict of a mere earthly court to dissolve a holy sacrament ! " You're quite right," he muttered slowly, nodding his head once or twice ; " divorce is pure sacrilege. There's no such thing known in the Catholic Church; there's no such thing known in the Austrian Empire." He subsided for a moment. Then, all at once, with a bound, another emotion got the better of him. He must go out without delay and inquire how all this bother got abroad from Philippina. And yet — 'twas hard to know how he could govern himself aright. Not for worlds would he let Will Deverill come to the house in his absence now, after all that had happened. Linnet hadn't seen him yet since her return from Italy. If he came in, as things stood, and found her in her present mood, Andreas felt he himself couldn't answer for the consequences. OPEN WAR 313 He paused, and reflected. For Philippina's sake, for his own, nay, even for Linnet's, he knew he must go out without one minute's delay, to prevent further mischief with Theodore Livingstone. But still — it was dangerous to go away from Linnet. Yet he must make up his mind one .way or the other; and he made it up quickly. '* I'm going out," he said in his curt tone, turning sharply to his wife, without one word of apology or explanation ; *' but before I go, I've a message to give the housemaid." " Go when you like," Linnet answered coldly. Little as she cared for him now, little as she ever cared for him, it hurt her feelings none the less that he shouldn't even try to explain or to excuse himself. His very silence was insolent. She felt it keenly. Andreas rang the bell, and then crossed his arms in a sullen fashion. That attitude alone seemed to exasperate Linnet. The housemaid answered the bell. He looked up at her with a scowl. " Ellen," he said, in a very slow and deliberate voice, "If Mr. Will Deverill should call while I'm out, will you tell him the Signora's not at home to-day? She's never at home to him, you may say, ex- cept when I'm present." Linnet's blood was boiling. These perpetual insults be- fore her own servants' eyes were driving her fL.:;t into open rebellion. She answered not a word, but rose with dig- nity, and went over like a queen to her davenport in the corner. " Stop, Ellen," she said calmly, restraining her- self with an effort. " I've a note I want you to post. Stand there, and wait till I've written it." She turned to ler husband, whose hand was on the door-handle. " Don't go, Andreas," she said in her most authoritative voice. " I wish you to read it before I have it posted." She sat down and wrote hastily. Then she directed an envelope. She was prepared for a scene ; but if a scene arose, she was determined it should be before a friendly witness. Ellen stood by, demure, in her cap and apron. Linnet spoke in English, that she might know what hap- pened. " I've written to Mr. Deverill," she said, as calmly as she coOd manage, though her voice trembled somewhat. " We haven't seen him yet since we came back to London. And this is what I've said : 1 hope you'll approve of it : — ■P^'WP' 3H LINNET (( ( & My dear Mr. Deverill, — It will give my husband and myself great pleasure if you'll lunch with us at two next Thursday. We want to talk over our Italian expe- riences. — Yours sincerely. Linnet Hausberger.' " Andreas darted at her, livid with rage and jealousy. " You shall not send thai note ! " he exclaimed, in German. " I forbid him the house. He shall not come near you." Linnet darted aside, for her part, and held the note out to Ellen. The girl, terrified at such a scene, and at her master's loud voice, drew back, not daring to interpose or to take it. Linnet held it at arm's-length. Andreas seized her arm and wrenched it. " You shan't send it,' he cried once more, clutching her wrist with his hand till his nails drew blood from it. He tried to seize the note again, but Linnet was strong and resisted him. He flung her violently to the ground ; but still she held it out, crying, " Here, post it, Ellen ! " Andreas was beside him- self now with rage and fury. He struck her several times ; he hit her wildly with his fist ; he caught her by the hair and shook her angrily like a bull-dog. The marks of his hands showed red through her thin dress upon her neck and shoulders. At last he seized the note, and tore it into shreds, flung the tatters into her face, and struck her again heavily. Linnet bent down and let him strike. Her blood was up now. She was angry too. And she also had in- herited the hot heart of the Tyrol. At last Andreas's passion cooled down of pure fatigue, and, with a final oath or two, he turned on his heel and left her. As he quitted the room, he stood for a second with his haiid on the door, looking round at the startled and horrified maid-servant. " Mind, Ellen," he said hus- kily, " post no letters for your mistress this afternoon ; and if the man Deverill calls, she isn't at home to him." But, as the front door closed with a snap behind him. it came back to him all at once, that wise and prudent man, that he had played into her rebellious hands all unawares ; he had given her the one plea she still needed for a divorce — the plea of cruelt/. husband IS at two ian expe- IGER.' " jealousy. I German, r you." I note out nd at her interpose Andreas send it, " i hand till e the note him. He leld it out. eside him- eral times ; ly the hair irks of his 1 her neck tore it into : her again Her blood so had in- re fatigue, s heel and a second he startled 2 said hus- afternoon ; to him." ehind him. Lident man, unawares ; r a divorce CHAPTER XLI god's law — OR man's? Linnet took less than one minute to make up her mind. Not twice in his life should Andreas treat her so before her own servants. She was too proud to cry ; but as soon as her husband had left the room she picked herself up from the floor were he had brutally flung her, wiped the blood from her arm, smoothed her hair with her hand, and mo- tioned silently .o Ellen to follow her into her bedroom. She motioned to her, because she couldn't trust herself to speak without crying, and never now should she allow that hate- ful man to wring a single tear from her. In those few brief moments, she had decided once for all what she meant to do. After all that had passed just now, she must leave him instantly. The crisis had come ; Andreas Haus- berger should suffer for it. Hastily, with Ellen's aid, she packed a few things into her little portmanteau. She put in just what she would most need for some evenings' stay ; she put in also her dia- monds and the rest of her jewellery, not omitting the coral necklet Will Deverill gave her long ago in the Tyrol. Luckily, she had in her desk the week's money for the housekeeping. She took it out — it was her own — and turned more calmly to Ellen. *' My child," she said, lay- ing two sovereigns in her hand, " will you come with me where I go? Remember, Mr. Hausberger says you're his servant." And the girl, looking up at her with a burst of com- pass^'on and enthusiastic affection, made answer at once: " I'd go with you, Signora, if they was to cut off my head for it. How dare he ever treat you so — such a man as him — and you a lady anyone 'ud love to die for ! " " Thank you, dear," Linnet said, much touched ; for to her, even her servants were perfectly human. " Then run iiD and put your things on as fast as you can, and ask Maria to call a hansom." 315 mmmmm 316 LINNET When it came to the door, she stepped in, and Ellen after her. " Where shall 1 drive, Mum ? " the cabman asked. And Linnet, through the flap, made answer boldly, " To Duke Street, St. James's." "That's where Mr. Deverill lives, ma'am, isn't it?" Ellen interposed, somewhat tremulously. " Yes, child," Linnet answered, with a choking voice, but very firmly still, for she had quite made her mind up. " Mr. Deverill lives there — and I'm going to Mr. Dev- erill's. I've no right to go — but I'm going all the same. If you'd rather not come, you can leave me at the door. You know what it means. Perhaps it would be better." The girl glanced back at her, all flushed. " I don't care a pin whether it's right or whether it's wrong," she an- swered warmly. " I'll go with you to the world's end. I'll go with you anywhere. I'd go with you if you was going to the worst house in London." Linnet answered nothing. She was red with shame — the very words appalled her — but she meant to go through with it. Too long had she trampled her own heart under foot; now her heart would have its way, and she meant to allow it. Her fiery Southern blood had got the better of her. She would fly from the man who had mar- ried her only for what he could make of her, to the man she had always truly loved — the man who had always truly loved her. " Is Mr. Deverill in ? " she asked with a beating heart of the servant at the lodgings. And when the man ans'vered " Yes, ma'am," in an unconcerned tone, her heart rose like a lump in her throat within her. But she kept her exterior coolness. " Bring in the port- manteau, Ellen," she said, with a quiet air of command; and the girl obeyed her. " Now, sit there in the hail till I come down again and call you." She trod the stairs like a queen. Will Oeverill was seated at his desk at work, when the servant dung open the door with a flourish, and announced, in his most grandiose tone, ** Signora Casalmonte ! " Will looked up in surprise, and saw Linnet before him. Her face, which had been flushed five minutes earlier, was now pale and bloodless with intense excitement, GOD'S LAW— OR MAN'S ? 317 and Ellen le cabman le answer isnt it? Icing voice, r mind up. Mr. Dev- 1 the same, t the door, be better." [ don't care g," she an- d's end. I'll I was going ivith shame eant to go ;r own heart ay, and she had got the 10 had mar- to the man had always ing heart of m answered art rose like in the port- command ; he haU till I 1 was seated )en the door ndiose tone, before him. utes earlier, excitement. ^larks of fingers stood out on her neck and wrists, a slight bruise scarred the surface of her smooth left temple. But she was beautiful still, in spite of all such accidents — very beautiful and winning. She stood a second and gazed at liim. At sight of her one true love, her bosom rose and fell ; that strange wave of delight she had felt at Innsbruck, and again at the Harmony, thrilled once more through and through her. Of a sudden, as she paused, her face flushed rosy red again, her eyes grew bright, her full throat heaved and panted. She spread out her arms towards him with a hasty little quiver. " O Will, Will, Will," she cried, in a voice of complete and intense self-surrender ; " at last — I have come to you I " Will rose in surprise and moved across to her, trembling. He seized her two hands in his and gazed at her longingly. " Linnet, dear Linnet," he cried, drawing a very deep breath; "what has brought you here to-day? What on earth do you mean by it ? " Put Linnet had flung away all artificial restraints and conventions now. She abandoned Lerself to her love with the perfect abandonment of a piire and good woman, when once she has made up her mind to repress nature no longer. With a wild impulse of delight she flung herself bodily into her lover's arms. She flung herself into Will's arms, and buried her head confidingly on his tender shoulder. Then she broke into a storm of deep-drawn sobs. " It means," she cried, between little bursts, " I've left him for evfer. That man I never loved, I've left him for ever. And I've come home at last where I ought to have come to nestle long ago. W^ill, Will, dear Will — will you take me? May I stop with you ? " In a transport of joy, Will clasped her to his bosom. Not to have done so, indeed, would have been more — or less — than human. No man can ever pretend to be other- wise than overjoyed when the woman he loves flings her- self into his arms for the first time in a fierce access of passion. He clasped her long and hard, breast pressed against heaving breast, and lips meeting lips in a sharp shower of kisses. For some minutes they neither knew, nor felt, nor remembered, nor thought of anything else on earth save their present intoxication. But surely those ^ip ■ i iiij a. l\SiJ 3^8 LINNET minutes were in themselves worth hving for ! What mat- tered so many years of cruel and unnatural repression be- side that one fierce draught at the hot wine of passion ? After a while, however, Will woke up to a true sense of the situation. Man though he was, and therefore ag- gressive, it was his duty first of all to think of protecting Linnet. He must protect her, if need were, even against her own impulses. He must learn what she meant, and what could have led her so suddenly to this strange decision — so unlike herself, so untrue, as it seemed, to her whole past history. He unwound his arms gently, and placed the poor sob- bing, throbbing girl, half-unresisted, in an arm-chair by the fireplace. Then he drew up a seat for himself very close by her side, took her hand in his, and soothed it gently with his other one. " He's been cruel to you, Linnet, I can see," he murmured softly in her car. Now, what has led you to this ? Tell me all he has done to you." Thereat, Linnet, holding his hand hard, and looking deep into his eyes, yet crimson for very shame, began in her own tongue the story of their interview. She hid nothins: from Will, and extenuated nothing. She told him in full how Joaquin Holmes had brought her Andreas's letter to Philippina and oflFered it for sale ; how she had refused to buy it, or have anything to do with it ; how he had dropped it by accident and she had picked it up before him, intend- ing to restore it to its rightful owner ; how a scuffle had en- sued, in the midst of which Andreas had unexpectedly en- tered; how in his wrath at being discovere ;, he had fairly lost his temper, and provoked her for once to an act of rebellion; and how in his rage at her note Ik? ' ud turned upon her bodily, and inflicted the marks Will could see so plainly now upon her person. Only the question of divorce she never touched on ; a certain feminine delicacy made her shrink from alluding to it. Will listened to every word with profound attention, letting her tell her own tale her own way, unquestioned, but stroking her hand from time to time very gently with his own, or smoothing her fiery cheeks with the tips of his fingers in silent sympathy. At last she ceased, and looked hard at Will, inquiringly. ** So I've come to you, Will," she said, in her simple way, GOD'S LAW— OR MAN'S ? 319 with childlike confidence ; " and, now I've come, may I stop with you always ? May I never go away again ? " Will's heart beat high. Her loving trust, her perfect self-surrender, could not fail to touch him. Yet he gazed at her ruefully. " My darling," he said with a burst, be- lying his words as he spoke by laying her soft head once more in the hollow of his shoulder; "you shouldn't have come to me. You've done very very wrong — very foolishly I mean. I'm the exact last person on earth you should have come to." Linnet nestled to him close. " But I love you," she cried, pleadingly. " You're the only living soul I'd have cared to come to." " Yes, yes ; I know," Will answered hastily. " I didn't mean that, of course. You're mine, mine, mine! Sooner or later, now, you must certainly come to me. But for the present, darling, I mean, it's so unwise, so foolish. It'll prejudice your case, if it ever comes to be heard of. We must take you somewhere else — somewhere free from all blame, don't you see — for the immediate future." " Prejudice my case! "Linnet exclaimed, looking up at him in amazement, and growing more shamefaced still with awe at her own boldness. " You must take me some- where else! Ah. Will, I don't understand you. No, no; I must stop here — I must stop here with you for ever. I've broken away from him now ; I've broken away from everything. I can never, never go back. I'm yours, and yours only." " No ; you can never go back. Linnet," Will answered decisively. " You're mine, darling, mine, mine, mine only " ; and he kissed her again fervently. " But we must be prudent, of course, if we're to make this thing straight before the eyes of the world ; and for your sake, dearest, you must see yourself how absolutely necessary it is that we should make it so." Linnet gazed at him once more m childlike astonish- ment. She failed utterly to comprehend him. "What do you mean, Will?" she faltered out. "You don't mean to say I'm not to stop with you? " Her eyes filled fast with tears, and her face looked up at his, full of wistful pleading. She clung to him so tight, in her love and her terrof, that Will bent over her mmm M 3«o LINNET yet again and covered her with kisses. "Yes, darling; you're to stop with me," he cried ; " to stop with me all your life — but not just at present. We must make this thing straight in the regular way first. Meanwhile, you must stay with some friend — some lady whose name is above suspicion. All must be carefully arranged. Even to have come here to-night may be positively fatal. We must play our cards cautiously. You've kept the letter? " Linnet drew it, much crumpled, from the folds of her bosom, and handed it to him at once, without a moment's hesitation. What he meant, she couldn't imagine. Will ran his eye over it hastily. Then he glanced at the deep red marks on her neck, and her half-bared arm — for slie had rolled back her sleeve like a child to show him. " This is conclusive," he said slowly. " Prudent man as he is, he has cut his own throat. And you had a witness, too — a friendly witness ; that's lucky. We must take you to a doctor, and let him see you to-night, as soon as ever we've arranged where you can sleep this evening. Tlie evidence of cruelty — and of the other thing — is more than sufficient. No court in England would refuse you a di- vorce upon such conduct." Linnet started at the word. " Divorce ! " she cried, growing redder and still redder with shame. " Oh, Will, not that, not that! You don't understand me. Divorce would be no use in the world to me, I'm a Catholic, you must remember, and I could never, never marry you. If I did, it would only be a mocker}'^ and a snare. It would be worse than sin; it would be open rebellion. I want no divorce; I want only to be allowed to stop here with you for ever." She laid her hand on his arm, as if to draw him to her- self in some natural symbolism. Her face was fluslicd with her womanly modesty. She hid it once more like a shy child on his shoulder. Will looked at her, sore puz- zled. How strange that this pure and passionate nature should see things in a light that to him was so unfamiliar! But he remembered what she had said to him in Philip- pina's trouble, and began to understand now in what manner she regarded it. " Well, but, Linnet," he cried eagerly lifting her head from where she put it, and laying her cheek against his GOD'S LAW— OR MAN'S ? 321 own, " you must see for yourself how much better it would be, if only from the mere worldly point of view, to arrange this matter as the world would arrange it. Granting even that a marriage after an English divorce would mean to you, from the strictly religious standpoint, simply nothing — why, surely, even then, it must be no small matter to set oneself right with the world, to be received and acknowledged as an honest woman, and my wife, in ordinary English society. If we get a divorce, we can do all that; and to get a divorce, we must act now circumspectly. But if we don't get one, and if you try to stop here with me without it — remember, dear, the penalty ; you lose position at once, and become for society an utter outcast." Linnet flung herself upon him once more in a perfect fervor of abandonment. Her love and her shame were fighting hard within her. Her passionate Southern nature overcame her entirely. " Will, Will, dear Will," she cried, hiding her face from him yet again, " you don't understand; you can't fathom the depth of the sacrifice I would make for you. I come to you to-day bringing my life in my hand — my eternal life, my soul, my future; I offer you all 1 have, all I am, all I will be. For you I give up my good name, my faith, my hopes of salvation. For you I will endure the worst tortures of purgatory. Fve tried to keep away — Fve tried hard to keep away — Our Dear Lady knows how hard — all these months, all these years — but I can keep away no longer. Two great powers seemed to pull different ways within me. My Church said to me plainly, * You must never think of him ; you must stop with Andreas.' My heart said to me no less plainly, but a thousand times more persuasively, ' You must fly from that man's side ; you must go to Will Deverill.' I knew, if I followed my heart, the fires of hell would rise up and take hold of me. I haven't minded for that ; Fve dared the fires of hell, the two have fought it out — the Church and my heart — and, my heart has con- quered." She paused, and drew a great sigh. " Dear Will," she went on softly, burying; her head yet deeper in that tender bosom, " if I got a divorce, the divorce would be nothing to me — a mere waste paper. What people think of me mf 322 LINNET ^K matters little, very little in my mind, compared to what God and my Church will say of me. If 1 stop with you here, I shall be living in open sin; but I shall be living with the man my heart loves best ; I shall have at least my own heart's unmixed approval. While I lived with An- dreas, the Church and God approved; but my own heart told me, every night of my life, I was living in sin, un- speakable sin against human nature and my own body. Oh, Will, I don't know why, but it somehow seems as if God and our hearts were at open war; you must live by one or you must live by the other. If I stop with you, I'm living by my own heart's law; I will take the sin upon me ; I will pay the penalty. If God punishes me for it at last — well, I will take my punishment and bear it bravely ; I won't flinch from pain ; I won't shrink from tlie fires of hell or purgatory. But, at least, 1 do it all with my eyes wide open. I know I'm disobeying God's law for the law of my own heart. I won't profane God's holy sacrament of marriage by asking a heretical and un- Catholic Church to bless a union which is all my own— my own heart's making, not God's ordinance, God's sac- rament. 1 love you so well, darling, I can never leave you. Let me stop with you. Will; let me stop with you! Let me live with you ; let me die with you ; let me burn in hell- fire for you ! " A man is a man. And the man within Will Deverill drove him on irresistibly. He clasped her hard once more to his straining bosom. " As you wish," he said, quiver- ing. " Your will is law, Linnet." " No, no," she cried, nestling against him, with a satis- fied sigh of delight. " My law is Will." And she looked up and smiled at her own little conceit. " You shall do as you wish with me." {"'"■i'P'-'i' Ullii red to what )p with you ill be living : at least my :d with An- ^ own heart ; in sin, un- own body. seems as if nust live by •p with you, take the sin ishes me for and bear it ink from the o it all with ^ God's law e God's holy :al and un- il my own— i, God's sac- er leave you. h you! Let burn in hell- Vill Deverill once more said, quiver- with a satis- d she looked fou shall do CHAPTER XLII PRUDENCE It was a trying positio*^ for Will. He hardly knew what to do. Duty and love pulled him one way, chivalry and the hot blood of youth the other. When a beautiful woman makes one an offer like that, it would be scarcely human, scarcely virile to resist it. And Will was not only a man but also a poet — for a poet is a man with whom moods and impulses are stronger than with most of us. As poet, he cared little for mere conventional rules; it was the consequences to Linnet herself he had most to think about. But he saw it was no use talking to her from the standpoint he would have adopted with most ordinary Englishwomen. It was no use pointing out to her what he himself realized most distinctly, that her union with An- dreas was in its very essence an unholy one, an insult to her own body, a treason against all that was truest and best in her being. It ran counter from the very first to the dictates of her own heart, which are the voice of Nature and of God within us. But to Linnet, those plain truths would have seemed but the veriest human sophisms. She looked upon her marriage with Andreas as a holy sacra- ment of the Church ; and any attempt to set aside that sac- rament by an earthly court, and to substitute for it a verbal marriage that was no marriage at all to her, but a pro- found mockery, would have seemed to her soul ten thou- sand times worse than avowed desertion and unconcealed wickedness. Better live in open sin, she thought, though she paid for it with her body, than insult her God by pretending to invoke his aid and blessing on an adulterous union. Will argued feebly with her for a while, but it was all to no purpose. The teachings of her youth had too firm a hold upon her. He saw she was quite fixed in her own mind upon one thing; she might stop with him or she 323 ^T^P ^^m ZH LINNET ■^!!l!i!!! Ill I'll HI i his mind s the case, •aph to the "asalmonte appear in irm in dis- ave me for md to find What on lutiful soft in a grave t be brave ; . a crisis in DU love me, You have — instantly, e very mo- In that, low, and if I admit it; )p here one You must mow, some and the husband's rom you ! " Will, dear loment, the 3r you. If ig to-night, what they whisperings! ict as I ad- I shall ask nd nothing looks so well as a clergyman's wife in England. But if she objects, I must try some other woman. You're agitated to-night, and I should be doing you a gross wrong if 1 took advantage now of your love and your agi- tation. Though it isn't you and myself I'm thinking of at all; you and I know, you and I understand one another. Let me not to the mar-hge of true minds admit impedi- ment; it isn't that that I trouble for — it's the hateful prying eyes and lying tongues of other people. For my- self, darling, my creed is quite other than your priest's; I hold that, here to-night, you are mine, and I am yours ; God and Nature have joined us, by the witness of our own hearts " ; his voice sank solemnly, " and whom God hath joined together," he added, in a very grave tongue, *' let no man put asunder." He paused and hesitated. " But, for to-night," he went on, *' we must make some temporary arrangement; to-morrow and afterwards, we may settle for the future with one another at our leisure. When you look at it more calmly, dearest, you may change your mind about the matter of the divorce; till then, we must be cautious, and, in any case, we must take care to give the wicked world no handle against you." Linnet clutched him tight still. " But if you go," she cried, all eagerness, " you won't leave me ; I may go with you." Her voice was so pleading, it cut Will to the quick to be obliged to refuse her. He leant over her tenderly. " My Linnet," he cried, caressing her with one strong hand as he spoke, " I'd give worlds to be able to say yes; I can't bear to say no to you. But for your own dear sake, once more, I must, I must. I can't possibly let you go with me. Just consider this ; how foolish it would be for me to let you be seen with me. to-night, on foot or in a cab, in the streets of London. All the world would say — with truth — you'd run away from your husband, and rushed straight' into the arms of your lover. You and I know you've done perfectly right in that. But the world —the world would never know it. We must never let them have the chance of saying what, after their kind, we feel sure they would say about it." He rose from his cha^'r. She clung to him, passionately. " Oh, take me with you, Will ! " she cried, in a perfect 328 LINNET fever of love. " Suppose Andreas was to come ! Sup- pose he was to try and carry me off by force against my will ! Oh, take me, take me with you ! — don't leave nic here, alone, to Andreas ! " Sadly against his wish, Will disengaged her arms and untwined her fingers. He did it very tenderly but with perfect firmness. " No, darling," he said, in a quiet tone of command ; " let go ! I must leave you here alone ; it's imperative. And it's wisest so; it's right; it's the best thing to do for you. You are mine in future — you were always mine — and we shall have plenty of time to love one another as we will, hereafter. But to-niglit I must see you suffer no harm by this first false step of yours. My servant knows your husband well. He shall wait in the hall ; and, if Andreas comes, deny us both to him. Your maid can come up here with you. I'll take care no evil happens to you in any way in my absence. Trust me, trust me for this, Linnet; you needn't be afraid of me. \/ith a sudden change of front Linnet held up her face to him. " 1 can always tru' lu, dear Will," she cried. " I have always trusted you. i\\\ these long, long years I've known and seen how you yearned for one kiss — and would never take it. All these long, long years, I've known you hungered and thirsted for my love — and kept down your own heart, letting only your eyes tell me a little — a very little — while your lips kept silence. The other men asked me many things, and asked me often — you know a singer's life, what it is, and what rich people think of us, that they have but to offer us gold, and we will yield them anything. I never gave to one of them what I was keeping for you, my darling ; I said to myself, * I am Andreas's by the sacrament of the Church ; but Will's, Will's, Will's, by my own heart, and by the law of my nature!' I trusted you then; I'll trust you always. Good-by, dear heart; go quick: come back again quick to me ! " She held the ripe red flower of her lips pursed upward towards his face. Will printed one hard kiss on that rich full mouth of hers. Then, sorely agamst his will, he tore himself away, and, in a tumult of warring impulses, de- gc^nd^d the staircase. lie ! Sup- gainst my leave nie arms and ' but with quiet tone alone ; it's s the best -you were ne to love [lit I must I of yours, all wait in th to him. ke care no ice. Trust ; afraid of 2\d up her Will," she long, long or one kiss years, I've — and kept ; tell me a 2nce. The me often — rich people lid, and we le of them to myself, hurch; but the law of ou always, gain quick jed upward )n that rich ^ill, he tore ipulses, de- CHAPIER XLIII LINNET S RIVAL Will hailed a cab in St. James's Street, and drove straight to his sister's, only pausing by the way to des- patch a hasty telegram to the management of the Har- mony:*" Signora Casalmonte seriously indisposed. Quite unable to sing this evening. Must fill up her place for to-night, at least, and probably for to-morrow as well, by understudy." Then he went on to Maud's. " Mrs. Sartoris at home? " "Yes, sir; but she's just this minute gone up to dress for dinner." " Tell her I must see her at once," Will exclaimed with decision, — " on important business. Let her come down just as she is. If she's not presentable, ask her to throw a dressing-gown roi iid her, or anything, to save time, and run down without delay, as I must speak with her imme- aiately on a most pressing matter." The maid, smiling incredulity, ran upstairs with his mes- sage. Will, with heart on fire, much perturbed on Linnet's account, walked alone into the drawing-room, to await his sister's coming. He was too anxious to sit st'll ; he paced up and down the room, with hands behind his back, and eyes fixed on the carpet. A minute . . . two minutes . . . four, five, ten passed, and yet no Maud. It seemed almost as if she meant to keep him waiting on purpose. He chafed at it inwardly; at so critical a juncture, surely she might hurry herself after such an urgent message. At last, Maud descended — ostentatiously half-dressed. She wore an evening skirt — very rich and handsome ; but, in place of a bodice, she had thrown loosely around her a becoming blue bedroom jacket, trimmed with dainty brown facings. Arthur Sartoris, in full clerical evening costume and spotless white tie, followed close behind her. Maud burst into the room with a stately sweep of implied re- monstrance. " This is very inconvenient, Will," she said 329 330 LINNET " in her chilliest tone, holding up one cheek as she spoke in d frigid way of fraternal salute, and pulling her jacket together symbolically — " very, very inconvenient. We've the Dean and his wife coming to dine, as you know, in a quarter of an hour — and the Jenkinses, and the Mac- gregors, and those people from St. Christopher's. For- tunately, I happened to go up early to dress, and had got pretty well through with my hair when year name was announced, or I'm sure I don't know how I could ever have come down to you. Oh, Arthur — you're ready — run and get me the maiden-hair and the geranium from my room ; I can be sticking them in before the glass, while Will's calking to me about this sudden and mysterious business of his. They're in the tumbler on the wash-hand-stand, be- hind the little red pot; and — wait a moment — of course I shall want some hair-pins — the thin twisted American ones. You know where I keep them — in the silver-topped box. Go quick, there's a dear. Well, Will, what do you want me for? " This was a discouraging reception, to be sure, and boded small good for his important errand. Will knew well on a dinner night the single emotion of a British matron! Church, crown, and constitution might fall apart piecemeal before Maud Sartoris's eyes, and she would take no notice of them. Still at least he must try, for Linnet's sake he must try ; and he began accordingly. In as brief words as he could find, he explained hastily to Maud the nature and gravity of the existing situation. Signora Casalmonte, that beautiful, graceful singer who had made the success of Cophetua's Adventure — Signora Casalmonte (he never spoke of her as " Linnet " to Maud, of course.) had lonp^ suflFered terribly at the hands of her husband, whose physi- cal cruelty, not to mention other thina^s, had driven her to-day to leave his house hurriedly, without hope of return again. Flying in haste from his violence, and not knowinj^ where to look for aid in her trouble, she had taken refuge for the moment — Will eyed his sister close — it was an error of judgment — no more — at his rooms in St. James's. " You recollect," he said apologetically, " we were very old friends ; I had known her in the Tyrol, and had so much to do with her while she was singing in my opera." Maud nodded assent., and went on unconcerned, with a LINNET'S RIVAL 331 spoke in ler jacket ;. We've now, in a the Mac- r's. For- d had got lame was ever have —run and my room ; lile Will's usiness of stand, be- -of course American ^er-topped lat do you and boded J well on a matron ! piecemeal no notice s sake he f words as nature and asalmonte, le success (he never had long lose physi- Iriven her of return »t knowinjT ed, with a quiet smile on her calm face, arranging the geranium and maiden-hair in a neat little spray at one side of her much frizzed locks, with the profoundest attention. " Well ? " she said inquiringly at iast, as Will, flounder- ing on, paused for a moment and glanced at her. " So the lady with many names — Casalmonte, Hausberger, Linnet, Carlotta, and so forth — is this moment at your rooms, and I suppose is going to sup there. A queer proceeding, isn't it? It's no business of mine, of course, but I certainly must say I should have thought your own sister was the last person in the world even you would dream of coming to tell about this nice little escapade of yours." " Maud," Will said, very seriously, " let's be grave ; this is no laughing matter." Then, in brief words once more, he went on to explain the difficulty he felt as to Linnet's arrangements for the immediate future. He said nothing about the divorce, of course; nothing about his love and devotion towards Linnet. Those chords could have struck no answering string in the British matron's severely proper nature. He merely pointed out that Lin- net was a friend in distress, whose good name he wished to save against unjust aspersions. Having left her hus- band she ought to go somewhere to a responsible married woman — ** And I've come to ask you, Maud," he con- cluded, " as an act of Christian charity to a sister in dis- tress, will you '.;ake her in, for to-night at least, till I can see with greater clearness what to do with her in future ? " Maud stared at him in blank terror. " My dear boy," she cried, " are you mad ? What a proposal to make to me! How on earth can >ou ever think I could possibly do it r " " And it would be such a splendid chance, too," Will cried, carried away by his enthusiasm — " the Dean coming to dinner and all ! in a clergyman's house, with such people to vouch for her! Why, with backers like that, scandal itself couldn't venture to wag its vile tongue at her ! " Maud looked at him with a faint quiver in her clear-cut nostrils. " That's just it ! " she answered promptly. " But there, Will, you're a heathen ! You'll never understand 1 You have quite a congenial incapacity for appreciating and entering into the clerical situation. Isn't that so, dear Arthur? You belong to another world — the theatrical ^^T ^-^ 332 LINNET 15^ world — where morals and religion are all topsy-turvy, anyhow ! How could you suppose for a moment a clergy- man's wife could receive into her house, on such a night as this, an opera-singing woman with three aliases to her name, who's just run away in a fit of pique from her lawful husband! Whether she's right or wrong, she's not a person one could associate with ! To mix oneself up like that with a playhouse scandal! and the Dean coming to dine, whose influence for a canonry's so important to us all! The dear, good Dean! Now Arthur, isn't Will just too ridiculous for anything? " " It certainly would seem extremely inconsistent," Ar- thur Sartoris replied, fingering that clerical face dubiously ; " ex — tremely inconsistent." But he added after a pause, with a professional afterthought. " Though, of course, Maud, if she's leaving him on sufficient grounds — com- pelled to it, in fact, not through any fault of her own, but through the man's misconduct — and if she thinks it would be wrong to put up with him any longer, yet feels anxious to avoid all appearance of evil, why, naturally, as Chris- tians, we sympathize with her most deeply. But as to taking her into our house — now really. Will, you must see — I put it to you personally — would you do it yourself if you were in our position ? " Maud for her part, being a woman, was more frankly worldly. " And it'd get into the papers, too ! " she cried " Labby'd put it in the papers. . . . Just imagine it in Truth, Arthur! — ' I'm also told, on very good authority, that the erring soul, having drifted from her anchorage, went straight from her husband's house to Mrs. Arthur Sartoris's. Now, Mrs. Arthur Sartoris, it may be neces- sary to inform the innocent reader, is Mr. Deverill's sister; and Mr. Deverill is the well-known author and composer of Cophcttia's Adventure, — in which capacity he must doutbless have enjoyed, for many months, abundant op- portunities for making the best of the Signora's society. Verbum sap. — but I would advise the Reverend Arthur to remember in future the Apostle's injunctions on the duty of ruling his own house well, and having his children in subjection with all gravity.' That's just about what Labby would sav of it ! " Will's face burned bright red, If his own sister spoke Mi:>'.' 'Sviar LINNET'S RIVAL 333 thus, what things could he expect the outer world to say of his stainless Linnet. " You forget," he said, a little angrily, " the Apostle advises, too, in the self-same pas- sage, that a bishop should be given to hospitality ; and that his wife should be grave ; not a slanderer ; sober and faith- ful in all things. I came to you to-night hoping you would extend that hospitality to an injured wife who desires to, take refuge blamelessly from an unworthy husband. If you refuse her such aid, you are helping in so far to drive her into evil courses. I asked you as my sister; I'm sorry you've refused me." " But, my dear boy," Maud began, " you must see for yourself that for a clergyman's wife to have her name mixed up — oh, good gracious, there's the bell ! They're coming, Will, I'm sure. I must rush up this very moment, and put on my bodice at once. Thank goodness, Arthur, you're dressed, or what ever should I do? Stop down here and receive them." " Then you absolutely refuse ? " W ill cried, as she fled, scuffling, woman-wise, to the door. " I absolutely refuse ! " Maud answered from the land- ing. " I'm surprised that you should even dream of asking your sister to take into her house, under circumstances like these, a runaway actress-woman ! " And, with a glance towards the hall, she scurried hastily upstairs, with the shuffling gait of a woman surprised, to her own bedroom. Mechanically, Will shook hands with that irreproachable Arthur Sartoris, passed the Dean, all wrinkled smiles, in the vestibule below, and returned again with a hot heart to his waiting hansom. " Hans Place, Chelsea ! " he cried through the flap; and the cabman drove him straight to Rue's miniature palace. Mrs. Palmer was at home ; yes, sir ; but she was dressing for dinner. " Say I must see her at once ! " Will cried with a burst. And in less than half-a-minute Rue descended, looking sweet, to him. She had thrown a light tea-gown rapidly around her to come down ; her hair was just knotted in a natural coil on top; she was hardly presentable, she said, with an apolo- getic smile, and a quick glance at the glass; but Will thought he had never seen her look prettier or more charm- ing in all his life than she looked that moment. T'^ il 'Hi !i.!illii A '% 334 LINNET " I wouldn't keep you waiting, Will," she cried, seizing both his hands in hers. " 1 knew if you called at this unusual hour, you must want to see me about something serious It is serious," Will answered, with a very grave face. " Rue, I've something to tell you that may surprise you much. That wretch Hausberger has been very, very cruel to Linnet. He's offered her bodily violence to-day. And that's not all : — she has proof, written proof of his intimacy with Philippina. He's thrown her on the floor, and struck her and bruised her. So she's left him at once — and she's now at my chambers.'* A sudden shade came over Rue's face. The shock was a terrible one. This news was different, very different in- deed from what she expected to hear. Could Will have found out, she asked herself with a flutter, as she put on her tea-gown, that he loved her at last, better even than Linnet? Linnet had been away one whole long winter; and when he dined here last week, he was so kind and at- tentive! So she came down with a throbbing heart, all expectant of results. That was why Will had never seen her look so pretty before. And »iow, to find out it was all for Linnet he had come ! All for Linnet, not for her ! Ah me, the pity of it I Yet she bore up bravely, all the same, though her lips quivered quick, and her eyelids blinked hard to suppress the rising moisture. " At your chambers ! " :^he cried, with a jump of her heart. " O Will, she mustn't stop there ! " She sank into a chair, and looked across at him piteously. Will, dimly perceptive, seized her hands once more, and held them in his own with a gentle pressure. Then he went on to explain, in very different words from those he had used to Maud, all that had happened that day to him- self and to Linnet. He didn't even hide from Rue the question of divorce, or the story of Linnet's complete self- surrender. He knew Rue would understand; he knew Linnet herself would not be afraid of Rue's violating her confidence. He said everything out, exactly as he felt it. Last of all, he explained how he had been round to Maud's, what he had asked of Maud, and what answer Maud had made to him. if'llHI !, LINNET'S RIVAL 335 He had got so far when Rue rose and faced him. Her cheeks were very white, and she trembled violently. But she spoke out like a woman, with a true woman's heart. " She must come here at once, Will," she cried. " There's not a moment to lose. She must come here at once. Go quick home and fetch her." " You're quite sure you can take her in, Rue ? " Will asked, with a very guilty feeling, seizing her hands once more. " I can't bear to ask you ; but since you offer it of your own accord " Rue held his hands tremulously in her own for awhile, and gazed at him hard with a wistful countenance. " Dear Will," she faltered out in a half-articulate voice. " I in- vite her here myself ; I beg of you to bring her. Though it breaks my own heart — it breaks my heart. Yet I ask you all the same — bring her here, oh, bring her ! " Heart-broken she looked, indeed. Will leant forward automatically. " Dear Rue," he cried, " you're too good — too good and kind for anything ; I never knew till this mo- ment how very good and kind you were. And I love you so much ! " He held forward his face. " Only once ! " he murmured, drawing her towards him with one arm. " Just this once ! It's so good of you ! " Rue held up her face in return, and answered him back in a choking voice, " Yes, yes ; just this once, O Will, my Will — before I feel you're Linnet's for ever ! " He clasped her tight in his arms. Rue let him embrace her unresistingly. She kissed him long and hard, and nestled there tenderly. For fifty whole seconds she was in heaven indeed. At last, with a little start, she broke away and left him. " Now go," she said, standing a yard or two off, and gazing at him, tearfully. " Go at once and fetch her. Every moment she stops in your rooms is compro- mising. . . . Go, go ; good-by ! . . . You're mine no longer. But, Will, don't be afraid I shall be sad when she comes ! I'll have my good cry out in my own room first ; and, by the time she arrives, I'll be smiling to receive her ! " ^f^if-immm p/l^ 7 OS. CHAPTER XLIV AND WILL S At Will's chambers, meanwhile, Linnet sat and waited, her flushed face in her hands, her hot ears tingling. She had. plenty of time in Will's absence to reflect and to ru- minate. Horror and shame for her own outspokenness be- gan to overcome her. If Will had accepted her sacrifice, indeed, as frankly as she oflfered it, that profound emo- tional nature would have felt nothing of the kind; her passion would have hallowed and sanctified her love in her own eyes — not as the Church could have done, to be sure ; not from the religious side at all ; but still, from the alter- native point of view of the human heart, which to her was almost equally sacred in its way, 'twould have hallowed and sanctified it. Linnet would have regarded her union with Will as sinful and wrong, but not as impure or un- holy; she wouldn't have attempted to justify it, but she would never have felt ashamed of it. She recognized it as the union imposed upon her by the laws of her own highest nature ; the laws of God, as she understood them, might forbid it and punish it — they never could make it anything else for her than pure and beautiful and true and ennobling. But Will's refusal, for her own sake, to accept her self- surrender, filled her soul with shame for her slighted womanhood. She understood Will's reasons ; she saw how unselfish and kind were his motives; but still, the sense remained that she had debased herself before him, all to no purpose. She had oflfered him the most precious gift a woman can oflFer to any man — and he, he had rejected it. Linnet bowed down her head in intense humiliation. On her own scheme of life, she would have been far less dis- honored by Will's accepting her then and there, in a hot flood of passion, than by his proposal to wait till she could get a purely meaningless and invalid release from her sac- 336 AND WILL'S 337 lure or un- rament with Andreas. Having once made up her mind to desert her husband and follov/ her own heart, in spite of ultimate consequences, it seemed to her almost foolish that Will should shrink on her account from the verdict of the world, when she herself did not shrink — so great was her love — from the wrath of heaven and eternal punishment. But, as she sat there and ruminated, it began gradually to dawn upon her that in some ways Will was right ; even if she sinned boldly and openly, as she was prepared to sin, before Our Lady and *he Saints, it might be well for her immediate comfort and happiness to keep up appearances before English society. Perhaps it was desirable for the next few days, till the talk blew over, to go, as Will said, under some married woman's protection. But what mar- ried woman? Not that calmly terrible Mrs. Sartoris, at any rate. She dreaded Will's sister, more even than she dreaded the average middle-aged British matron. She knew how Maud would treat her, if she took her in at all; better anything at that moment of volcanic passion than the cold and cutting repose, the icy calmness of the British matron's unemotional demeanor. As Linnet was sitting there with her face in her hands, longing for Will's return, and half-doubting in her own heart whether she had done quite right, even from her own heart's standpoint, in coming straight away to him — Florian Wood, in a faultless frock-coat, with a moss-rose in his buttonhole, strolled by himself in a lazy mood down Piccadilly. It was Florian's way to lounge through life, and he was lounging as usual. He pulled out his watch. Hullo! time for dinner! Now, Florian was always a creature of impulse. He hesitated for a moment, with cane poised in his dainty hand, which of three courses to pursue that lay open before him. Should he drop into the Savile for his evening meal ; should he go home by himself to Grosvenor Gardens ; or should he take pot-luck with Will Deverill in Duke Street? Bah! the dinner at the Savile's a mere bad table d'hote. At home, he would be lonely with a solitary chop. The social instinct within him impelled him at once to seek for society with his old friend in St. James's. He opened the door for himself, for he had a latch-key that fitted it. In the hall, Ellen was seated, and the man- ^^T^ 338 LINNET 4 % -.ervant of the house was standing by and flirting with her. " Mr. Deverill's not at home, sir," he said, with a hurried start, as Florian entered. " Never mind," the Epicurean philosopher replied, with his bland, small smile. " Pretty girl on the chair there. He's coming back to dinner, I suppose, at the usual hour. Very well, that's right ; I'll go up and wait for him. You can tell Mrs. Watts to lay covers for two. I propose to dine here." " Beg your pardon, sir," the man said, placing himself full in front of Florian's delicate form, so as to half-block the passage; " there's a lady upstairs." He hesitated, and simpered. " I rather think," he continued, very doubtful how to proceed, ** Mr. Deverill wished nobody to go up till he came back again. Leastways, I had orders." " Why, it's Signora Casalmonte ! " Florian broke in, interrupting him ; for he recognized the pretty girl on a second glance as the housemaid at Linnet's. An expansive smile diffused itself over his close-shaven face. This was indeed a discovery ! Linnet come to Will Deverill's ! And with a portmanteau, too ! — Will, whose stern morality had read him so many pretty lectures on conduct in the Tyrol. And Linnet — that devout Catholic, so demure, so immac- ulate, the very pink of public singers, the pure flower of the stage! Who on earth would have believed it? But there it's these quiet souls who are alwayj; the deepest! While Florian himself, for all his talk, hov^ innocent lie was, how harmless, how free from every taint of guile, wile, or deception! What reconciled him to life, as he grew older every day, was the thought that, after all, 'twas so very amusing. The man hesitated still more. " I don't think you must go up, sir," he said, still barring the way, " Mr. Deverill told me if Hare Houseberger called, to say he wasn't at home to him." Florian's face was a study. It rippled over with succes- sive waves of stifled laughter. But Ellen, with feminine quickness, saw the error of the man's clumsy male in- telligence. It would never do for Mr. Wood, that silver- tongued man-about-town to go away and explain at every club in London how he'd caught the Casalmonte, with her maid and her portmanteau, on a surreptitious visit to AND WILL'S 339 Will Deveriirs chambers. Better far he should go up and see the Signora herself. Principals, in such cases, should invent their own lies, untrammeled by their subordinates. The Signora might devise what excuse she thought best to keep Florian's mouth shut ; and Will himself might come back before long to corroborate it. " No, no," she said hastily, with much evident artless- ness. " You can go up, sir, of course. The Signora's just waiting to see Mr. Deverill." Florian brushed past the man with a spring, and ran lightly up the stairs, with quite as much agility as so small a body can be expected to compass. He burst into the room unannounced. Linnet rose, in very obvious dismay, to greet him. She was taken aback, Florian could see — and glad indeed he was to notice it. This little contretemps was clearly the wise man's opportunity. Providential, providential ! He grasped her hand with warmth, printing a delicate little squeeze on the soft bit of muscle between thumb and fingers. " What, Linnet ! " he cried, " alone, and in Will Deverill's rooms! How lucky I am to catch you ! This is really delightful ! " Linnet sank back in her chair. She hardly knew what to say, how to cover her confusion. But excuse herself she must; some portion at least of what had passed she must explain to him. In a faltering voice, with many pauses and hesitations, she told him a faint outline of what had happened that day — her quarrel with Andreas, his cruel treatment, how he had struck her and hurt her, how she had fled from him precipitately. She hinted to him even in her most delicate way some dim suggestion of her husband's letter to Philippina. Florian stroked himself and smiled ; he nodded wisely. " We knew all that be- fore," he put in at last, with a knowing little air of saga- cious innuendo. " We knew Friend Hausberger's little ways. Though, how quiet he kept over them ! A taciturn Don Juan ! a most prudent Lothario ! " It was the wise man's cue now to set Linnet still further against her hus- band. "So I left him," Linnet went on simply, with trans- parent naivete; " I left him, and came away, just packing a few clothes into my portmanteau, hurriedly. I didn't know where to go, so I came straight to Mr. Deverill's. 340 LINNET m He was always a good friend of mine, you know, was Air. Deverill." She paused, and blushed. " I've sent him out," she continued, with a little pardonable deviation from the strictest veracity, " to see if he can find me some house among his friends — some English lady's — where I can stop for the present, till I know what I mean to do, now I've come away from Andreas. He's going to his sister's first, to see if she can take me in ; after that, if she can't, he's going to look about elsewhere." She gazed up at him timidly. She felt, as she spoke, Will was right after all. How could she brave the whi)le world's censure, openly and frankly expressed, if she shrank so instinctively from the pryng gaze of that one man, Florian? God, who reads all hearts, would know. "if she sinned, she sinned for true love ; but the world — tliat hateful world — Linnet leant back in her seat and shut her eyes with horror. As for Florian, however, he seized the occasion with avidity. He saw his chance now. He was all respectful sympathy. The man Hausberger was a wretch who had never been fit for her; he had entrapped her by fraud; she did right to leave him. What horrid marks on her arm. and on that soft brown neck of hers ! Did the cur do that ? What a creature, to lay hands on so divine a woman! Though, of course, it was unwise of her to come round t(i Will's; the world — and here Florian assumed his most virtuously sympathetic expression of face — the world is so cruel, so suspicious, so censorious. For themselves, they two moved on a higher plane ; they saw through the conventions and restrictions of society. Still, it was al- ways well to respect the convenances. Mrs. Sartoris! Oh, dear, no ! unsympathetic, out of touch with her ! And yet, oh, how dangerous to stop here in these rooms one moment longer. With dexterous little side hints the wise man worked upon Linnet's fears liisensibly. That fellow in the passage, now — the people of the house — so unwise, so uncertain ; who could tell friend from enemy ? As he spoke, Linnet grew every moment more and more uneasy. " I wish Will would come back ! " she cried. " T wish I had somewhere to go ! It makes me so afraid, you see — this delay, this uncertainty." AND WILL'S 341 r, was Mr. sent him deviation d me some i — where I to do, now his sister's i she can't. she spoke. I the whole jed, if she of that one ould know, ^vorld — that nd shut her casion with II respectful ch who had r by fraud; on her arm. cur do that ? I a woman! me round to ed his most he world is themselves, through the it was al- s. Sartoris! hher! And rooms one ints the wise That fellow —so unwise, y? )re and more le cried. " ^ afraid, you Florian played a trump card boldly. " Why not come oiT vvidi me at once, then," he suggested, " to my sister's? " "Your sister's?" Linnet asked. "But I didn't know you had one ! " Florian waived his hand airily, witha compulsive gesture, as if he could call sisters to command from the vasty deep, in any required quantity — as indeed was the case. " Oh dear, yes," he answered. " She hasn't been long in town. She — er — she lives mostly in Brittany." He paused for a second to give his fancy free play. Ah, happy thought ! just so! — a clergyman's wife would be the very thing for the purpose. *' Her husband's chaplain at Dinan," he went on, with his bland smile, romancing readily. " She doesn't often come over. She's not well off, poor dear; but this year she's taken a house for the season ... in Pimlico. You might go round there, at least, while you're waiting for Will. It's less compromising than this ; and we coukl leave a note behind to tell him where he could find you." Linnet del)atcd internally. Florian paused, and looked judicial. " What sort of person is she?" Linnet asked at last, hesitat'ng. " Kind — nice — sympathetic? " •* You've summed her up in one word ! " Florian an- swered with a flourish. " Sympathetic — that's just it ; she's bubbling over with sympathy. She goes out to all troubled souls. Though I'm her own brother, and therefore naturally prejudiced against her, I never knew anyone so intensely capable of throwing herself forth towards other people as my sister Marian. She's the exact antipodes of that unspeakable Sartoris woman ; human, human, human, above all things humati ; she brims and overflows with the milk of human kindness! And she took such a fancy to you, too, when she saw you one night, in Cophctua's Ad- venture. She said to me, * O Florian, do you think she'd come and stay with us? I'd give anything to know that sweet creature personally.* I told her. of course, you never stayed with anybody under the rank of a crowned head or a millionaire soap-boiler. She was quite disap- pointed, and she'd be only too delighted now, I'm sure, if she could be of any service to you." He looked at her hard. He had provided a sister, men- tally. As a matter of fact, he knew a lady — a most oblig- y|iii» p j| . Lii 342 LINNET tfl 3h^'| ing lady — tolerably reputable, too — in a side street in Pimlico, who would be willing (for a slight consideration) to take Linnet in, and adopt any relation she was told to Florian. Once get a married woman (and a singer-body at that) away from her husband, into a house of your own choosing, and — given agreeable manners and a persuasive tongue — you can do before long pretty much what you like with her. So, at least Florian's philosophy had always instructed him. He chuckled to himself to think pure chance should have enabled him thus to anticipate Will Deverill. And if Will was playing this game, this simple little game, why on earth shouldn't he play it too, and out- wit his rival ? He went on to expatiate very enthusiastically to Linnet on the imaginary sister's sympathetic virtues. In a few- minutes he had made her so absolutely charming — for he was a fluent talker — that at last Linnet, who, like all Tyrolese, was impulsive at heart, jumped up from her seat and exclaimed with a sudden burst, " Very well, then ; I'll go there. It's safer there than here. We can leave a line for Will to let him have the address. I'll sit down and write it." " No, no," Florian cried, eagerly, seizing a pen in haste. " I'll write it myself. Then we'll take a cab outside, and go round there together." For if once Linnet was seen with him in a hansom in the street— iter leaving her husband — her fate was sealed. She might as well do what all the world would im- mediately say she was bent on doing. CHAPTER XLV BY AUTHORITY As Florian sat there, scribbling off a few lines of apology for their hasty departure, the door opened of a sudden — and Will Dcverill entered. Florian rose, a little abashed — though, to be sure, it took a Q^ood deal to abash Florian. He stood by the desk, hesi- tating, with his unfinished letter dangling idly in his hand, while he debated inwardly what plausible lie he could in- vent on the spur of the moment and palm oflF to excuse him- self. But before he could make up his mind to a suitable story. Linnet — that impulsive southern Linnet — had rushed forward, all eager, with her own version of the episode. " O Will," she cried, spoiling all by her frank avowal, " I'm so glad you've come at last ! I couldn't bear to wait here in doubt any longer; and Florian's so kind: he was just going to take me off for the night to his sister's!" Will turned from her and gazed at Florian for a brief space in blank surprise. Then, as by degrees it dawned upon him what this treachery really meant, his face changed little by little to one of shocked and horrified in- credulity. " Florian," he said, in a very serious voice, " come out here into the passage. This thing must be ex- plained. I want to speak with you." Florian followed him on to the landing, hardly knowing what he did. Will's eye was cold and stern. " Now look here," he said, frigidly fixing his man with his icy gaze, " it's no use lying to me. I know as well as you do, you've got no sister." Florian smiled imperturbable. " Well, no," he said blandly ; " but — 1 thought I might improvise one." Will took him in at a glance. He pointed with one hand to the stairs, impressively, " Go ! without another word," he said. " You've behaved like a cad. Instead of trying 343 M;; 344 LINNET to save and help this poor girl, you've concocted a vile plan in my absence to ruin her." Florian turned to him, cynically. " You were looking out for a house to take her to yourself," he answered. *' I don't suppose you mean to return her to her husband. If you may do it, why not / as well? Two can play at that game, you know. It's quits between us. You needn't pretend to such high morality at the very moment when you're engaged in enticing another man's wife away from her husband." Will didn't deign any further to bandy words with the fellow. "Go!" he said, once more, pointing sternly to the doorway. Florian turned on his heel, and slimk down the stairs, as jauntily as he could, but looking for all that just a trifle disconcerted. Will leant over the banisters, as he went with a sudden afterthought. "And if ever you dare to say anything to anyone on earth about having seen Lin- net here, at my rooms, to-night," he called out. very point- edly, " I shall think you, if possible, even a greater cad than I think you now, and not hesitate to say so." He returned to Linnet in his sitting-room. \\v wouldn't speak before her to Florian because he couldn't bear she should even suspect how bad an opinion the man had had of her, and what plot he had laid for her. " You shall go round to Mrs. Palmer's. Linnet," ht- said. taking her hand in his. " The place Florian spoke of isn't at all the right place for a girl like you. Rut Rue v\ ill receive you like a sister, iiill we can arrange some other plan for you. At her house, you'll be safe from every whisper of scandal." " You'll take me there, won't you ? " Linnet inquired. gazing wistfully at him. On ';hat point, however. Will was firm as a rock. ** No, dearest," he answered, laying one hand on her fnll I'ound arm, persuasively. *' You must go there alone, with only your maid. It's better so. Rue has a friend or two coming in to dine with her to-night. They'll see you ar- rive at her door by yourself; and if any talk comes of it. they'll know how to answer it." Linnet flung herself upon him once more, in a last cling- ing embrace. She was wildly in love with him. Will pressed her hard to his heart; then he gently disengaged BY AUTHORITY 345 himself, and led her to the door. A cab was in waiting — the cab that brought him there. Linnet got into it at once, and drove off with Ellen. In twenty minutes more, she was in Rue's pretty drawing-room. That night, when all the rest were gone, she and Rue sat up long and late, talking together earnestly. Their talk was of Will. Linnet didn't try to conceal from her new friend how much she loved him. Rue listened sympa- thetically, suppressing her own heart, so that Linnet ceased even to remember to herself how she had thought once of the grand lady as her most dangerous rival. lUit all the time, Rue preached to her one line of ci'um alone: "You must get a divorce, of course, dear, I'i'^ marry Will Deverill," And all the time. Linnet shook her head, and answered through her tears. " A divorce to me is a mockery and a delusion. I'd rather stop with Iiim openly, and defy the world and the Church together, than affront my (lod l)y pretending to marry him, when 1 know ill my heart Andreas Ilausberger is and must always be my one real husband." At last tliey went to lied. Neither slept much that eve- ning. Linnet thought about Will ; Rue thought about Linnet. As things now stood. Rue would give much to help them. Since Will loved this woman far more than lie loved her, she wished indeed Linnet might be frcvd at last from that hateful man and thev two might somehow be happy together. Only the Church stood in the way — that implacable Church, with its horrible dogma of indis- >ohible marriage. \ext day, Linnet spent very quietly at Rue's. Will never came near the house ; but he wrote round a long and earnest letter to Linnet, urging her with all the force and persuasiveness he knew to go down that night as usual to the theater Tt .' ns best, he said, in order to avoid a scandal, that sb^ shoukl appear to have left her unworthy husband on gnAinds of his own misconduct alone, and be anxious to fulfil in every other way all her ordinary en- gagements. Linnet went, »t<*k at heart. She hardly knew how she was to get throu^i Caniicu. I'ut when she saw Will's face in a^box at the sid< watching her with eager anxiety, she plucked up heart, lh'!, fired by her own excitement, sang 346 LINNET vi her part in that stirring romance as she had never before sung it. She rushed at her Toreador as she would haw- rushed at Will Deverill. At times, too. as in the cigar factory scene, she was defiant with a wonderful and life- like defiance ; for she marked another face in the stalls be- fore her — Andreas Hausberger's hard face, gazing up at his flown bird with intense determination. Rue had come to see her through. At the end of the performance, Rue waited at the door for her. Will passed by, and spoke casually just a few simple words of friendly congratula- tion on her splendid performance ; then she drove away, flushed, to Hans Place, in Rue's carriage. It didn't escape her notice, however, that, is she stepped in, Andreas Hausberger stood behind, with his hand on the door of their own hired l^rougham. As Linnet drove oflf he leaned forward to the coachman. " Follow the green liverv," he called out in so loud a voice that Linnet overheard it. When they drew up at Rue's door, he was close behind them. But he noted the number, that was all ; he had been there before, indeed, to Rue's Sunday after- noons, and only wished to make sure of the house, and that Linnet was stopping there. " Drive on home," he called to the man ; and disappeared in the distance. Linnet looked after him and shuddered. She knew what that mearitt ; and she trembled at the thought. He would come back to fetch her. She was a Catholic still. Tf he came and bid her follow him — ^her lawful husband — how could she dare refuse him? All that night long, she lay awake and prayed, torturirii: her pure soul with many doubts and terrors. In the lone hours of early morning, ghastly fears beset her. The anger of Heaven seemed to thunder in her ears ; the flanv s of Hell rose up to take hold of her. She would give hrr verv life to go back again to Will ; and the nether ab> ss yawned wide its fiery mouth to receive her as she thoui^lit It. She would go back to Will, let what would, come:— but she knew it was wrong ; she knew it was wicked ; she knew it was the deadly unspeakable sin ; she knew she must answer before the throne of God for it. Oh. how could she confess it, even to her own parish priest I How ask for penance, absolution, blessing, when BY AUTHORITY 347 ove awav, she meant in her heart to live, if she could, every day of lier life in unholy desire or unholy union! O God, God, God, how could she face his anger! She rose next morning, very pale and haggard. Rue tried to console her. But no Protestant consolation could touch those inner chords of her ingrained nature. Strange to say all those she loved and trusted most were of the alien creed ; and in these her deepest doubts and fears and troubles they cou)d give her no comfort. About eleven o'clock came a knock at the door. Linnet sat in the break- fast-room ; she heard a sound of feet on the staircase hard by — two men being shown up, as she guessed, into the drawing-room. The servant brought down two cards. Linnet looked at them with a sinking heart. One was Andreas Haus- berger's ; tlic other bore the name of her London confes- sor, a German-speaking priest of the pro-Cathedral at Kensington. She passed them to Rue with a sigh. " I may go up with you ? " Rue cried, for she longed to protect her. Bur Linnet shrank back. " Oh no. dear," she an- swered, shaking her head very solemnly. " How I wish you could come ! You could sit and hold my hand. It would do me so much goorl. But this is a visit of re- ligion. My priest wouldn't like it." She went upstairs with a bold step, but with a throb- bing heart. Rue followed her anxiously, and took a chair on the landing. What happened next inside, she couldn't hear in full, but undertones of it came wafted to her throu'^h the door indistinctly. There was a l)lur of sounds, among which Rue could distinguish Andreas Hausberger's cold tone, not angry, indeed, but rather low and conciliatory ; the priest's sharp German voice, now in- quiring, now chiding, now ht)rtative, now minatory ; and Linnet's trembling speech, at first defiant, then penitently apologetic, at last awestruck and terrified. Rue leant forward to listen. She could just distinguish the note, but not the words. Lmnet was speaking novv very earn- estly and 'solemnly Then came a i)ause, and the priest spoke next — exhorting, threatening, flennnncing. m inre German guttcrals. His voice was like tlie voice of Hie angry Church reprovmg the sins of the flesh, the pride 348 LINNET of the eyes, the lusts of the body. Linnet bowed her head, Rue felt sure, before that fierce denunciation. There was a noise of deep sobs, the low wail of a broken heart. Rue drew back aghast. The Church was having its way. They had terrified Linnet. For the first time in her life, the gentle-hearted Ameri- can felt herself on the side of the sinners. She would have given anything just that moment to get Linnet away from those two dreadful men, and set her down una- wares in Will's chambers in Duke Street. She tried hard to open the door, but the key was turned. *' Linnet, Lin- net ! " she cried, knocking loud, and calling the poor girl by her accustomed pet name, " let me in ! 1 w nt to speak to you ! " "No, dear; I can't!" Linnet answered through the door, gulping down a great sob. " I must fight it out by myself. .Wy sin ; my punishment." The voices went on again, a little lower for a while. Then sobs came thick and fast. Linnet was crying bit- terly. Rue strained her ear to hear; she couldn't catch a single syllable. The priest seemed to be praying, as she thought, — |)rayiiig in Latin. Then Linnet appeared to answer. For more than an hour together they wrestled with one another. At the end of that time, the tone of the priest's voito changed. It was mild; it was gracious. In an agony of horror. Rue realized what that meant. She felt sure Iv must be pronouncing or promising absolu- tion. So Linnet must have confessed ! — must have renounced luT sin ! — must have engaged to go back and live with that man Andreas! Right or wrong, crime or shame. Rue would have given ten thousand pounds that moment — to take her back to Will Deverill's. As Rue thought that thought, the door opened at last, and the three came forth right before her on the landing. Andrea^ ind the priest wore an air of triumph. Lin- net walked out in front of them, red-eyed, dejected, misera- ble. The Church had won : but, O God, what a victory ! Rue sprang at her and seized her hand. " Linnet. Lin- net ! " she cried agonized, " don't tell me you've let those BY AUTHORITY 349 two men talk you over! Don't tell me you're going back to that dreadful man ! Don't tell me you're gomg to give up Will Deverill for such a creature ! " Linnet fell upon her neck, weeping. " Rue, Rue, dear Rue," she sobbed out, heart-broken, and half beside her- self with love and religious terror, " it is not to him that I yield, O lieber Gott, not to him, but to the Church's orders." *' But you mustn't ! " Rue cried, aghast, and undeterred by the frowning priest. " You must stop here with me, and get a divorce, and marry him ! " And she flung her- self upon her. "There! what did I say?" Andreas interposed, with a demonstrative air, turning icund to the man of God. ** I told you I must take her away from London at once, at all costs, at all hazards — if you didn't want her to fall into deadly sin. and the Church to lose its hold over her soul altogether." The priest looked at Rue with a most disapproving eye. ** Madam," he said, curtly, in somewhat German English, " with exceeding great diflficulty have I rescued this erring daughter from the very brink of mortal sin — happily, as yet unconsummated ; and now, will you, a married woman yourself, who know what all this means, drive her back from her husband into the arms of her lover? " "Yes, yes; / will!" Rue cried boldly — and, oh, how Linnet admired her for it! "1 will! I will! I'll drive her back to Will Deverill ! Anything to get her away from that man whom she hates. Anything to get her back to the odier whom she loves! Linnet, Linnet, come away from th'^m ! Come up with me to my bedroom ! " But LlniiSt drew back, trembling. " Yes. yes ; I hate him ! " she wailed out passionately, looking across at her husband. " I hate him ! Oh, T hate him ! And yet. I will go with him. Not for him, but for the Church ! Oh, I hate him ! I hate him ! " The priest turned to Andreas. " I absolved her too soon, perhaps," he said in German. " Pier penitence is skin-deep. She is still rebellious. Quick, quick, hurry her ofT from this sinful adviser. You'll do well, as you say, to get her away as soon as you can — clear away from 35^ LINNET London. It's no place for her, I'm sure, so long as this man , . . and his friends and allies . . . are here to tempt her." Rue clung hard to her still. " Linnet, dear," she cried, coaxingly, ** come up to my room ! You're not going with them, are you ? " " Yes ; I am, dear," Linnet sobbed out, in a heart- broken tone. " Oh. how good you are ! — how sweet to me! But I must go. They have conquered me." " Then I'll go round this very minute," Rue burst forth through her tears, *' and tell Will what they're doing to you. If it was me, I'd defy them and their Church to their faces. I'll go round and tell Will — and Will'll conic and rescue you ! " The priest motioned Linnet hastily with one hand down the stairs. ** Sie haheii recht, Hcrr Hausbergcr," he mur- mured low. *' Apage retro, Satanas! With temptations like these besetting her path, we shall be justified in hurry- ing away this poor weak lamb of our flock from the very brink of a precipice that so threatens to fall with her." ]■ . CHAPTER XLVI HOME AGAIN Andreas Hausberger was always a wise man in his generation. The moment he knew Linnet had left his lioiise, he realized forthwith that the one great danger to his interests lay in the chance of her obtaining a divorce, and marrying Will Deverill. To prevent such a catastro- phe to his best investment was now the chief object in life of the prudent impresario. He had iiurried away from home that first afternoon, it is true, to make sure how things stood with Philippina and her husband ; but as soon as he found out no serious danger menaced him there, he rushed back to Avenue Road — to find Linnet flown, witii- out a word to say whither. Now, Andreas, being a very wise man, and knowing his countrywomen well, felt tolera- bly sure Linnet was by far too good a Catholic to agree to a divorce, even if Will suggested it. She might run away to her lover in a moment of pique — and so shut herself out from the benefit of the English law on the subject by mis- conducting herself in return; but fly in the face of the Church, insult her creed, defy its authority, annul its sacra- ments — oh, never! never! Andreas was certain Linnet would do- — just what Linnet really did ; fling herself frankly upon Will Deverill's mercy, but refuse to marry him. Moreover, with his usual worldly wisdom, the zvirth of St. Valentin saw at a glance that the Church was the only lever which could ever bring his revolted wife back to him. She had always disliked him ; she now hated and despised him. But he was still, and must always be, in the sight of God, her lawful husband. Linnet feared and obeyed the Church, with the unquestioning faith of the genuine Tyrolese ; it was to her a pure fetish — authorita- tive, absolute, final. Andreas recognized clearly that his 351 w^ 352 LINNET proper course now was to enlist this mighty engine, if possible, in his own favor. To guard against all adverse chances, he must get Linnet back into his power at once, must carry her away from the sphere of Will's influence, and, if luck permitted, must hurry her off to some lancl where divorce was impossible. Quick as lightning h^ made up his mind. To throw up all her engagements in London forthwith would, of course, cost money — tor she was engaged under forfeit — and to lose money was indeed a serious consideration. Still, in the present crisis, the temporary loss of a few stray hun- dreds was as nothing in Andreas's eyes compared with tlic possible prospective loss of Linnet's future earnings, lie must risk that and more in order to snatch her from Will Devcrill's clutches. lie had meant to take his wife to America, on tour, a little later in the year; and he ad- hered to that programme: but not till she had quite got over her present fit of rebellion. For a moment, he judged it best on many grounds to venture on a bold step — no less a step than to go back with her to St. \^alcntin. For this sudden resolve, he had ample reasons. In the first place, he would have her there under the thumb of Austrian law ; divorce would be impossible — nay, even unthinkable. P>ut. in the second place — and on this point Andreas counted far more — he would have her there in an atmosphere of un- questioning Catholicism, where all the world would take it for granted that to marrv Will Deverill by judgment of an English court was an insult to Providence ten thousand times worse than to sin and repent — nay, even than to .sin without pretence of repentance, but without the vain mock- ery of a heretical marriage. A few weeks in the Tyrol. Andreas thought in his wi.se way. surrounded by all the simple ideas of her childhood, and exposed to the exhorta- tions of her old friend, the Herr Vicar, would soon brin.^ Linnet back from this flight of unbridled fancy to a proper frame of mind again. Besides, the mountain air would be good for her health after so ?<^ormy an episode — ozone. ozone, ozone ! — and he wanted her to be in first-rate sing- ing voice, before he launch(*d her on the fresh world of New York and Chicago. Lots of money to be made in New York and Chicago! Once get her well across the Atlantic in a White Star Liner, and all would be changed ; HOME AGAIN 353 she'd soon forget Will in the new free life of that Western Golconda. To enlist the Church on his side was therefore Andreas Hausberger's first and chief endeavor. With this object in view, he took the unwonted step of confessing himself in due form to the priest of the pro-Cathedral the very day after Linnet left him. 'Twas a well-timed confession. Andreas admitted to the full his own misconduct — ad- mitted it with a most exemplary and edifying show of masculine contrition. But then he went on to point out to the priest that between his wife's case and his there was a great gulf fixed, from the point of view of the ecclesias- tical vision. He had sinned, it was true, and deserved re- prehension ; but he was anxious, all the same, to remain in close union as ever with his wife, to admit the obligation and sanctity of the sacrament. Frau Hausberger, on the other hand, had left his hearth and home, and seemed now on the very point of falling into the hands of here- tics, who might persuade her to accept the dissolving ver- dict of a mere earthly court, and to marry again during her husband's lifetime, in open defiance of the Church's au- thority. Her soul was thus placed in very serious jeop- ardy. If she continued to remain with Will or with Will's friends, and if they over-persuaded her to obtain a divorce, she would become a Protestant, or at any rate would enter into an irregular union which no Catholic could regard as anything other than legalized adultery. The justness and soundness of Herr Hausberger's views deeply impressed the candid mind o^ his confessor. It is pleasant indeed, in these degenerate days, to find a lay- man who so thoroughly enters into the Church's idea as to the obligation of the sacrament. Moreover, to let a well- known lamb of his flock thus stray from the fold before the eyes of all Europe — and on such a question — the confessor saw well would be a serious calamity. Indeed the Church had somewhat prided itself in its way on Signora Casal- monte. It had pointed to her more than once as a con- spicuous example of pure Catholic life under trying cir- cumstances. A Tyrolese peasant-girl, brought up in a country where Catholic influences still bear undisputed sway, and transplanted to the most dangerous and least approved of professions, she had comported herself on the 354 LINNET til", .ij- ill stage, in spite of every temptation, with conspicuous mod- esty and religious feeling. Beautiful, graceful, much ad- mired, much sought after in all the capitals of Europe, she had resisted the many snares that beset a singer's ca- reer, and had shown a singular instance of pure domestic life in a sphere where such life is, alas, too uncommon. So much could the lessons of the Church effect ; so great was the lasting power of early Catholic influences. And now, if they must eat their own words publicly, and go back on their own encomiums, if Linnet, on whom they had prided themselves as a shining example of tlic success of their method, was to go off before the eyes of all the world with a non-Catholic poet — worse still, if she was to fly in the face of their most cherished principles, and request a divorce at the hands of purely secular judges, Catholicism itself would receive a serious blow in the eyes of many doubtful or wavering adherents. A person like the Casalmonte commands public attention. Of course, if the worst came to the worst, it would be easy enough for the Cb xh to disown her; easy enough to remark, with a casual little sneer, that Rome had never approved of the theatrical profession — above all, for women. Still. it is a good pastor's duty, if possible, to save, above all things, the souls of his flock ; and the first thing to do, it was clear, the confessor thought, was to bring the Casal- monte back again into subjection to her own husband. They must strain every nerve to prevent her obtaining or even demanding a divorce ; they must strive, if they could, to obviate a gross and open scandal. Actuated by such motives, and by many others of a more technical character, the confessor, after some demur, consented at last to the somewhat unusual course of calling upon the lost lamb, if her whereabouts could be found, and endeavoring to save her either from open sin or still more open rebellion. As soon as he learned she hadn't gone off with Will Deverill, but was quietly staying with a wealtliy American lady, an intimate friend of her suspected lover's, the priest made up his sapient mind at once this meant a determination to seek a divorce, which "^ust instantly be combated by every means in his power. So he worked upon Linnet's susceptible Southern nature by striking suc- cessively all the profoundest chords of religion, shame, li-i^ E IH HOME AGAIN 355 penitence, remorse, and terror. He appalled her with the authoritative voice of the Clnirch ; he convicted her of sin; he overawed her with the mysterious sanctity of a divine sacrament. Before he had finished his harangue, Linnet crouched and cowered in abject fear before him. She loved Will with all her heart: she would always love him; she hated Andreas with all her soul: she couldn't help but hate him. Still, if God and the Church so or- dained, she would follow that man she hated, till death them did part; she would forsake that man she loved, though her heart broke with love for him. Andreas seized his opportunity; he struck while the iron was lot. His brougham was at the door ; he had sent their luggage on to Charing Cross before him. In haste and trembling, he hurried Linnet away, hardly even waiting for Ellen to bring down the portmanteau with her jewellery and necessaries. They drove straight to Charing Cross, and took the Club train southwards. That night they spent in Paris. Linnet, heart-broken but calm, in- sisted on separate rooms ; for that, at least, she must stipulate ; she would follow him, she said, as the Church di- rected, to the bitter end, but never again while he lived sliould he dare to lay those heavy hands of his upon her. Next morning, they took the early express to Innsbruck, via Zurich and the Vorarlberg. Two evenings later, they sat together at St. Valentin. How strange it all seemed to her now, that familiar old world of her own native Tyrol ! Everything was there, just as of yore, to be sure — land, people, villages — but oh, how small, how petty, how mean, how shrunken! St Valentin had dwindled down to a mere collection of farm-houses ; the church, whose green steeple once looked so tall and great, had grown short and stumpy and odd and squalid-looking; the IVirthshans, that once prosperous and commodious inn, seemed in her eyes to-day a mere fourth-rate little simple country tavern. To all of us, when we revisit well-known scenes of our childhood, space seems to have shrunk, the world to have grown smaller and meaner and uglier. But to Linnet, the change seemed even greater than to most of us. She had been taken straight away from that petty hamlet, and elevated with surprising rapidity into European fame — a popular favor- 3S6 LINNET ite of Milan and Naples, Rome and Paris, Munich and Brussels, London and Vienna. The break in her life had been sudden and enormous ; she had passed at once, as it were, from the village inn to the courts of kings and the adulation of great cities. And now, when she came back again, all was blank and dreary. The dear mother was dead ; Will Deverill was away, and she might not see him ; the Herr Vicar turned out a greasy, frowsy Austrian parisii priest; Cousin Fridolin had a fat wife and two dirty-laccd babies. The poetry seemed to have faded out of the Tyrol she once knew ; the very cow-bells rang harsh — and Will Deverill, who could make music of them, was away over in London. Only Nature itself remained to console her. And An- dreas in his wisdom allowed her to commune much with Nature. The eternal hills had still some slight balm for her wounded spirit. Linnet and her husband stopped as guests at the IVirthshatis; it was Andreas's still, but he had let it to Cousin Fridolin. In the morning, after Lin- net had gulped down the coffee and roll that seemed to half choke her, she would stroll up the hill behind the vil- lage inn, and sit on the boulders, just above the belt of pine wood, where she had sat long ago hand in hand with Will Deverill. The village children sometimes came and gazed at her. and whispered to one another in an awe- struck undertone how this was Lina Tesler, who once minded cows in a chalet on the Alps, and who was now the Casalmonte, a great, rich singer in England, with dia- monds in her box. and grand rings on her fingers. Lin- net dressed very simply for this mountain life, and tried to seem the same as of yore to Cousin Fridolin, and the priest. and the good old neighbors: but, ah me, how changed was the world of the Tyrol ! And how curious it seemed to hear the same familiar chatter still running on about the same old gossips, the same petty jealousies, the same narrow hopes, and fears, and ideals, when she herself had passed through so much, meanwhile — had known other men, new ideas, strange cities ! So for a fortnight. Linnet lived on, scarcely speaking to Andreas, but sitting by herself on those springtide hills, where the globe-flowers scattered gold with a stintless hand and the orchids empurpled whole wide tracts of the mead- HOME AGAIN 357 ows. She sat there — and thought of Will — and obeyed the Church — and followed Andreas. Yet, oh, how strange that God and our hearts should be thus at open war ! that Nature should tell us one thing and the Church another ! 'Twas a consequence of the Fall of Man, the Herr Vicar assured her ; for the heart, the heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked. And it was desperately wicked of her, no doubt, to think so much about Will ; but there — Church or no Church, Linnet couldn't help think- ing of him. She was resigned, in a way ; very much resigned ; her heart had been crushed once for all when she married Andreas. It had flared up in fitful flicker of open re- bellion when she left his house and flung herself fiercely on Will Deverill's bosom ; and then — Will himself had bruised the broken reed, had quenched the smoking flax, and sent her away hurt, bleeding, and humiliated. He did it for her own sake, she knew, but, oh, she would have loved him better if he'd been a little less thoughtful for her, less noble, less generous! Loved him better? Oh no; to love him better would be impossible ! But they would both have been happier, with ti":e world well lost, and present love for the reward of Paradise closed to them hereafter. Purgatory? Ah what did she care for their purgatory now ! To count one year of love fulfilled with Will, she would gladly give her poor body to be burnt in burning hell for ever and ever. It was the Church that intervened to prevent it, not she ; for herself, she was Will's ; she could live for him, she could die for him, she could lose her own soul for him. She never said a word to Cousin Fridolin and his wife, or to the people of St. Valentin, of her relations with An- dreas. Still, the villagers guessed them all. Simple vil- lagers know more of the world than we reckon. She was rich, she was grand, they said, since she'd married the Wirth, and become a great lady: but she wasn't happy with Herr Andreas ; he was cold and unkind to her. Those marks on her little wrists — they were surely the impress of Herr Andreas's big fingers ; those red eyes, that pale face — they were surely the result of Herr Andreas's infideli- ties. Money, after all, isn't everything in this world : Lina Mil .! , m W m. 358 LINNET Telser had diamonds and pearls at command, and she drank fine red wine, specially brought from Innsbruck ; but she would have been happier, people thought at St. Valen- tin in the Zillerthal, if she'd married Cousin Fridolin, or even Franz Lindner! M CHAPTER XLVIl SEEMINGLY UNCONNECTED Franz Lindner! And how was Franz Lindner en- gaged during these stormy days? He was working out by degrees his own scheme in hfe for making himself rich, and so, as he thought, acceptable to Linnet. With great difficuUy, partly by saving and hoarding with Tyrolese frugalit;-, partly by rare good luck in fol- lowing a fortunate tip for last autumn's Cesarewitch, Franz had scraped together at last the five hundred pounds which he required for working his " system " at Monte Carlo. The royal road to wealth now lay open before him. So he started blithely fram Victoiia one bright spring morning, bound southward straight through by the rapidc to Nice, with his heart on fire, and his capital in good Bark of England notes in his pocket. He meant to stop at Nice, not at Monte Carlo itself, because he was advised that living was cheaper in the larger town, and Franz, being a Tyroler, reflected with prudence that even when one's going to win twenty thousand pounds, ii's best to be careful in the matter of expenditure till one's sure one's got them. At Calais, be found a place in the through carriage for the Riviera. With great presence of mind, indeed, he se- cured a corner seat by pushing in hastily past a fumbling old lady with an invalid daughter. The opposite corner was already occupied by a handsome man — tall, big-built, rather dark, with brilliant black eyes, and abundant curly hair, of somewhat southern aspect. As Franz entered the carriage, the stranger scanned him. casually, with an observant glance. He had the air of a gentleman this stranger, but he was affable for all that; he entered into conversation very readily with Franz, first in English, then more fully in German, which latter tongue he spoke quite fluently. Part of his education had been acquired at Hei- 359 360 LINNET V ■ delberg, he said in explanation, before he went to Oxford ; 'twas there he had picked up his perfect mastery of German idiom. As a matter of fact; he had picked it up rather by mixing with Jewish shop-boys from Frankfort in Denver City, Colorado; for the stranger was no other than Mr. Joaquin Holmes, the Psycho-physical Entertainer, flying southward to restore his fallen fortunes at Monte Carlo. Fate had used ner Seer rather badly of late. His fail- ure to sell Andreas's letter to Linnet was the last straw that broke the camel's back of Mr. Holmes's probity. Thought-reading had by this time gone quite out of fash- ion ; Theosophy and occult science were now all in the as- cendant. There were no more dollars to be made any longer out of odic force ; so Mr. Holmes was compelled by adverse circumstances, very much against his will, to take refuge at last in his alternative and less reputable profession of card-sharper. With that end in view, he was now on his way to the Capital of Change in the Princi- pality of Monaco. Where gamblers most do congregate is naturally the place for a dexterous manipulator of the pack to make his fortune. Mr. Holmes was somewhat changed in minor detail as to his outer man, in order to avoid too general recognition. His hair was cut shorter: his beard was cut sharper ; his moustache — a hard wrench — was altogether shaved oflf ; and sundry alterations in his mode of dress, especially the addition of a most unneces- sary pincc-nc:, had transformed him, in part, from the aspect of a keen and piercing Transatlantic thought-reader to that of a guileless English mercantile gentleman. But his vivid black eyes were still sharp and eager and shifty as ever ; his denuded mouth, now uncovered at the corners, showed still more of a cynical smile than before ; and h's complete expression was one of mingled astuteness and deferential benevolence — the former, native to his face, the latter, by long use, diligently trained and cultivated. Before they reached Paris, Seer and singer had put themselves on excellent terms with one another. They had even exchanged names in a friendly way. the Seer giv- ing his, for obvious reasons, as plain Mr. Holmes, without the distinguisning Joaquin; it was safer so; there are plenty of Holmeses scattered about through the world, - > 1 i It 1 SEEMINGLY UNCONNECTED 361 Oxford ; f German rather by n Denver than Mr. er, flying ite Carlo. His fail- ast straw ; probity, t of fash- in the as- made any compelled is will, to reputable view, he he Princi- :ongregate tor of the somewhat n order to It shorter; ,rd wrench ions in his ,t unneces- from the ght-reader nan. But and shifty lie corners, e ; and h's tcness and ) his face, cultivated, r had put ler. They e Seer giv- es, without there are the world, and the name's not compromising; while, on the other hand, if any London acquaintance chanced to come up and call him by it, such initial frankness avoided compli- cations. Franz Lindner, more cautious and less wise in his way, gave his name unblushingly as Karl von Forstemann, a Vienna proprietor, out of pure foolish secretiveness. He had no reason for changing his ordinary style and title, ex- cept that he wished to be taken at Monte Carlo for an Aus- trian gentleman, not a music-hall minstrel. The Seer smiled blandly at the transparent lie ; Franz's accent and manner no more resembled those of a Viennese Junker than his staring tweed suit and sky-blue tie resembled the costume 0^ an English gentleman. However, the prudent Seer reflected immediately to him- self that this sort was created for his especial benefit. Be- hold, a pigeon ! He was even more affable than usual on that very account to Herr Karl von Forstemann. He offered him brandy out of his Russia-leather covered flask ; he invited him to share his anchovy sandwiches ; he regretted there was no smoking compartment on the through carriage for Mentone, or he might have intro- duced his new friend to a very choice brand of fragrant Havana. Going to Cannes? or San Remo? Ah, Nice! that was capital. They'd travel together all night then, without change of companions, for he himself was going on straight through to Monte Carlo. At that charmed name, which the Seer pronounced with a keenly cautious side-glance, Franz pricked up his cars. Monte Carlo! ach, so? really? Did he play, then? The cautious Seer smiled a deep and wary smile of consum- mate self-restraint. Play? no, not he; the Casino was rubbish : he went there for the scenery, the music, the at- tractions. Occasionally of an evening, to be sure, he might just drop into the Rooms to observe what was hap- pening. H a run of luck came on any particular color — or number or series, as the case might be — now and again he would back it — once in a week or a blue moon — for pure amusement. But as to making money at it — bah, bah, what puerile nonsense! With odds on the bank — one chance in thirty-six — no scientific player could reg?rd it in that light for one moment. As excitement — '* 1 grant 362 LINNET Iff m^ m: i you, yes, all very well; one got one's fun for one's louis: but as speculation, investment, trial for luck— if it came to that — why, everybody knew it was all pure mrxmsliine. Franz listened with a smile, and looked preternaturaiiy cunning. That was all very well in its way. he said, with a sphinx-like face — for the general public; but he had a System. The Seer's eye was grave ; the Seer's face was solemn ; only about the corners of his imperturbable mouth could a faint curl have betrayed his inner feelings to the keenest observer. A System! oh, well, of course, that was alto- gether different. No one knew what a clever and compe- tent mathematician might do with a System. Though, mark you, mathematicians had devised the tables, too; they had carefully arranged so that no possible combina- tion could avoid the extra chances which the bank reserved to itself. Ho./ever, experience — experience is the only solid guide in these matters. Let him try his System, by all means; and if it worked — with stress on that if — Mr. Holmes would be glad for his own part to adopt it. If it didn't he could show him a trick worth two of that — a game where the players stood at even chances, with no rapacious bank to earn a splendid dividend and pay roy- ally for the maintenance of a palatial establishment. And with that, 1" acked himself up and subsided into his cor- ner. All night through, on their way to Marseilles, they slept or dozed at intervals — and then woke up once more to discuss by fits and starts that enthralling subject of win- ning at Monte Carlo. The fumbling old lady and her in- valid daughter, propped upright in the middle seats, got no sleep to speak of, with their perpetual chatter. Be- fore morning, the two men were excellent friends with one another. Franz liked Mr. Holmes. He was a jolly, out- spoken, good-natured gentleman, very kindly and well- disposed, and he recommended him to a good cheap hotel at Nice, lying handy to the station, for a man who wanted to run over pretty often to Monte Carlo. Franz went there as he was bid, and found it not amiss ; 'twas pleasant, after so long a stay in EnH^-iul. to discover himself once more amongst compat: iots, A'? ^J" Hiotographic .Sciences Corporation 23 WIST MAIN STRUT WMSTH.N.Y. t4SI0 {7 lb) •72-4S03 i\ iV %^ <> ;\ 6^ 37<> LINNET it." Franz was too good a Tyroler not to be thoroughly superstitious ; so he accepted the bystander's disinterested advice, and continued to put down his five gold pieces. But still, luck was hard. If it's easy to win three hun- dred pounds at a go, it's easier still to lose them. And yet, Franz felt sure that, sooner or later, the System must win ; the System was infallible ; his friend the betting man had made all that so clear to him. Recklessly and des- perately he hurried on with his game — five louis, five louis, five Icuis once more — lost, lost, lost, lost — till he was sick and tired of it. Now and again, luck varied, to be sure, for a tim.e as it liad varied yesterday ; but while yesterday with minor fluctuations it steadily rose, to-day with minor fluctuations it as steadily fell again. By two o'clock that afternoon, he had lost the whole of his last night's winnings, and was reduced once more to his original capital. He was going to stake yet again, somewhat haggard and feverish, when Joaquin Holmes, who had been watch- ing him with the profoundest interest, tapped him lightly on the arm and invited him to luncheon. " You want food," he said " — and wine. After a good glass of Mumm, you'll play better and stronger again ! " In the altered state of the money-market, Franz felt himself less punctilious on the score of treats than the day before ; he accepted the lunch, and the offer of champagne, with de- spondent alacrity. The Seer, ever prudent, stood a bottle of the best wine the cellar of the Hotel de Paris could produce. It was excellent and invigorating. As lunch proceeded, Franz's spirits returned; the champagne sup- plied him with fresh sinews of war — Dutch courage for the onset. " If I were you, Von Forstemann," the Seer said in his friendliest and most insinuating tone, " I wouldn't play any more. You're sure to lose in the end by it." But Franz stood by his colors. " Ah, no," he answered, smiling, " I can't lose. I've got a System. It's been tried before. A friend of mine, do you know, made twenty thousand pounds in these very rooms by it. Flushed and fired by his wine, he went back to the tables. The Seer paid the bill for their lunch, and fol- lowed him. Franz had found another seat, and was deep in his play. But he lost, lost, lost — won a little — then THE BUBBLE BURSTS 371 ; thoroughly disinterested pieces. 1 three hun- them. And system must betting man dy and des- : louis, five lost— till he :k varied, to r; but while rose, to-day in. By two : of his last nore to his lat haggard been watch- him lighdy " You want )d glass of 1 ! " In the himself less r before; he le, with dc- ood a bottle Paris could As lunch ipagne sup- courage for " the Seer tone, "I in the end Ui, no," he ^stem. It's enow, made yit. jack to the h, and fol- d was deep little— then lost again. All the afternoon long, he kept on losing. The Seer walked about, exchanging a word or two at times with friends and with ladies of his acquaintance (some of whose faces Franz fancied he had seen before at the London Pavilion), but came back agam to his side after each such excursion, with friendly persistence. " How much have you lost now ? " he asked each time. And Franz, very shamefaced, yet proud in a way that he could own to such losses, made answer again and again, as the case might be, " A hundred and twenty," " Two hundred and thirty," " Three hundred and twenty-seven." Ach Gott, it was pitiful ! At last, about six o'clock, the Tyroler found himself re- duced to a hundred and fifty pounds of his original capital. He couldn't understand it ; this was strange, very strange ; the System somehow didn't seem to work as it ought to do. In his despair, he almost began to disbelieve in its virtues. Just then, the Seer strolled casually by once more, chatting gaily to a lady. He paused, and looked at Franz. In the thirst for human sympathy we all feel at such times, Franz beckoned him up with one hand, and confided to him in a hoarse whisper the painful state of his exchequer. " Come out and have a drink," the Seer said, bending low, with his most courteous manner. " Let's work this thing out. Just you show me your System ? " Franz followed him blindly across to the cafe opposite. The Seer ordered two cognacs and a syphon of soda- water. " Now, tell me how you do it," he said, in a very grave voice. And, with son e little reluctance, looking down at the table, Franz proceeded to disclose to his at- tentive listener the main points of his System. It was a transparent fallacy, of course. Such systems always are ; and the Seer, who was no fool at the doctrine of chances, saw through it at a glance, riis lip curled lightly. "You're a good mathematician?" he asked, with a well-suppressed sneer. And Franz was obliged perforce to admit, in this critical moment, that he had got no further in that abstruse science than the first four rules of arithmetic. The Seer assumed his kindliest and most didactic man- ner. " Now, you look here, Herr von Forstemann." he said, leaning over towards his new friend confidently; 372 LINNET " you've allowed yourself to be duped ; you've been grossly imposed upon. I can show you in a minute your System's all bosh. The bank stands always its regular chance to win, no matter what you do, and it dodges you exactly where you think you've dodged it." He took out a pencil and paper, and began with great show of care and patience to make the fallacy as clear as day to his unwilling pupil. Fi-anz leant over him and looked. Step by step the clever American unraveled be- fore his eyes all the tangled mass of false assumptions and baseless conclusions Franz called his System. Poor Franz stood aghast; the demolition was patent, irresistible, crushing. Joaquin Holmes was in his element; he wa^ a specialist on games of chance ; he demonstrated with loving care that in this case, as in all others, the bank had exactly thirty-seven chances for itself, against thirty-six for the players. Franz saw it with his own eyes: sorely against his will he was forced to see it. He couldn't gain- say it : it was clear as mud ; he could only murmur in a feebly illogical way, " But my friend m.ade twenty thou- sand pounds in these rooms right off with it." The Seer was remorseless. " Accident ! " he answered, calmly, with a bland wave of the hand. " Pure luck ! Coincidence! And if it happened once, by a mere fluke, to pull itself off so well, all the less reason to believe such a wonderful sequence of happy shots would ever manage to repeat itself. The bank stands always its fixed chance to win in a certain proportion ; by good fortune you may circumvent it, by calculation, never ! " Franz was convinced against his will. But the blow was an appalling one. He had lost three hundred and fifty pounds already ; he saw no hope of recovering it. And, what was far worse, he had practically lost twenty thousand into the bargain. During all those years while he had been saving and scraping, he had considered his fortune as good as made, if he could but once go to Monte Carlo with five hundred pounds of ready money in his pocket. In five short minutes the affable stranger had knocked the bottom out of his drum — demolished the whole vast superstructure of false facts and bad reasoning Franz had reared so carefully ; and now, like a house of been grossly )ur System's .r chance to you ex^ictly 1 with great r as clear as er him and iraveled bc- assumptions stem. Poor , irresistible, 2nt; he was strated with lie bank had St thirty-six eyes: sorely )Uldn't gain- lurmur in a wenty thou- e answered, Pure luck ! mere fluke, believe such ver manage ixed chance ne you may It the blow undred and covering it. lost twenty years while isidered his ^o to Monte oney in his ranger had olished the d reasoning a house of THE BUBBLE BURSTS 373 cards, it had tumbled about his ears, leaving the poor duped Tyroler blankly hopeless and miserable. The reaction was painful and piteous to behold. From a potential millionaire, Franz descended at once to be the owner of a paltry hundred and fifty pounds in English money. The Seer did his best in these straits to console and comfort him. He pointed out that while no man can ensure a fortune at games of chance by trying to play on a system, any man may have the good luck to win large sums if he treats it frankly as a question of fortune, not of de- liberate planning. *' Only," he added, with a significant glance towards the Casino, '* it's foolish to play where one backs one's luck against a public bank which stands to win, by its very constitution, a certain regular proportion of all money staked against it." His words fell on stony ground. Franz was simply in- consolable. The longer he looked at those irrefragable calculations, the more clearly did he recognize now that the Seer was right, and the System on which he had staked his all was a pure delusion. But Mr. Joaquin Holmes extended him still the most obtrusive sympathy. " Fm awfully sorry for you, Herr von Forstermann," he said, over and over again, regarding his figures sideways. " This has been a hard trial to you. But you mustn't give up be- cause you've been bitten once. Sooner or later, luck munt turn. You've lost a great deal ; all the sooner, then, must it change for you. Give me the pleasure of dining with you at the restaurant round the corner. You'll see things in a truer light, you know, when you've digested your dinner." Franz followed him mechanically. He had no heart for anything. The Seer ordered a choice repast, and plied his pigeon well with the best wines in the cellar. All the while, as they dined, he harped still on three chords — his own persistent ill-luck at all games of chance ; the folly of playing where the odds are against you, no matter how little, at a public table ; and the certainty of winning back, on the average, what you've lost, if only you play long enough at even betting. Emotions, once well roused, tend to flow on unchecked, in spite of temporary obstacles, in an accustomed chan- 374 LINNET nel. As the dinner digested itself, and the Dry Monopole fired Franz's brain once more, the thrasonic mood of the gambler came over him yet again as strong as ever. Like a born braggart that he was, a true Tyrolese Robbler, he began to boast in thick tones of how he would get the bet- ter still of those swindling tables. The Seer encouraged him to the echo in this gallant resolution, but thought ill of his chances at the unfair roulette-board, against the cer- tain dead-weight of a mathematical calculation. " Come up with me to my room after dinner," he put in, careless- ly, " and I'll show you a little game I learnt when I went buck-shooting in the Rockies some years ago. It's per- fectly fair and square, with no sort of advanlage to one side over the other. None of your beastly zeros : all even chances. I won't play it with you myself — or at least, only for a turn or two, just to show you how it's done — I'm so deuced unlucky. But there are lots of fellows around who'll be glad enough to give you a chance of your re- venge ; and, in my opinion, it's just about the very evenest game a sensible man ever put his money down upon." Franz submitted to be taught wi.h a very good grace. He was ready enough now for anything on earth that would help him to win back his solid lost sovereigns. They went round to a large hotel in the direction of La Condamine. People were moving in and out of the door- way by degrees, for it was just after dinner, and the town was crowded. Franz followed the Seer upstairs to a nicely furnished bedroom on the second floor, arranged as a .salon, with an alcove for the bed, after the continental fashion. Nobody took much notice of them ; come and go is the rule at Monte Carlo everywhere; and, besides, Mr. Joaquin Holmes, that affable new-comer, was very much in the habit of taking strangers to play in his bedroom. They sat down at the table, and the Seer, after much show of fumbling in his box, produced at last a pack of English cards, the cover still unbroken. With an innocent air of very slight acquaintance with the game he had pro- posed, he shuffled and cut them. " Let me see," he said, knitting his brows, and pretending to recollect. " It's like this, I think. Ah, yes I remember." And he dealt out a card to himself, and another to Franz, with most ingenious carelessness. THE BUBBLE BURSTS 375 J Monopole lood of the ever. Like Robbler, he get the bet- encouraged ought ill of ist the cer- n. " Come in, careless- ^hen I went '. It's per- lage to one os: all even or at least, > done — I'm ows around of your re- /■ery evenest upon." ^ood grace, earth that sovereigns, ction of La Df the door- id the town to a nicely \ as a salon. tal fashion. is the rule Ir. Joaquin luch in the 1. after much t a pack of an innocent he had pro- e," he said, " It's like dealt out a St ingenious) Then he went on to explain in very glowing terms the simplicity of this game, and its peculiar guilelessness. " You back your card for what you like, and, if I choose, I double you. You see, it's even chances. We each stand to win equally. It's easy as ABC. But my luck's so bad, I won't play you for money. Let's stake an imagin- ary five pounds on the turn-up." They tried a deal or two, for love, on this imaginary basis, and Franz won twice out of three times. He wished it had been for sovereigns. He tried again and again, the Seer manipulating his pack all the time with conspicuous awkwardness, and managing to lose with surprising regu- larity. What a pity the man was so shy of tempting fate, Franz thought ; though, to be sure, it was no wonder. For he lost, lost, lost, with almost incredible persistence. Still, Franz was annoyed to think that so many lucky shots, at so even a game, should all go for nothing. And he him- self — why, he could win at this play like wildfire. If only he could find such a pigeon to pluck ! He'd drain his man dry of all he had at a sitting ! " Come, put a louis on it ! " he exclaimed at last, with a " Who's afraid " sort of air, to the reluctant stranger. The Coloradan hesitated. He pulled out a purse full of notes and gold. " No; I can't go to a louis," he an- swered, gingerly, after a pause. *' I've such beastly bad luck. But I'll tell you what I'll do; I'll lay you ten francs on it!" His air was candid enough to disarm the most suspi- cious mind. He played, and lost. Franz picked the coins up nimbly. " Try it again," he said, with a broad smile ; and Joaquin Holmes tried it. Four times running Franz won ; then the American lost patience. " I'll go you a louis," he cried, warming up, and drawing a coin from his purse. Franz took him, and won it. At that, Holmes, as the Robbler thought, lost his head and grew frantic. He plunged ; he doubled ; he lost ; he cursed his luck ; and once more he boldly plunged again. Now and then, to be sure he won; but 'twas always on the times when he omitted to double. This was a first-rate game, Franz thought ; he was winning back his own again. After a while, the Seer pulled up his chair, and settled down to it seriously. " I'm a devil of a gambler," he said. 376 LINNET Qi with a smile, " when once I get well into it. I won't leave off now till you've broken my bank, ?nd got my bottom dollar. I've eight hundred pounds here " — which was a simple trade lie — " and I won't stop now till I've lost every penny of it." Ha, ha; that was game! They buckled to in earnest. Franz played with a will. He won, won, won ; he laughed loud; he picked up gaily; then, suddenly, strange to say, he lost, lost, lost again, i il at once, the Seer's fingers seemed to go like lightning. He dealt fast and furious; lie doubled every time ; luck had somehow changed ; he was winning now heavily. Franz didn't think quite so well of the game as it proceeded ; he began to regard it, in fact, as little short of a swindle. But, as his pile dimin- ished, the Seer gave him scant time to reflect between deals. " Stake ! I double you ! " Flash went the card ; the Seer raked in the money. That was very strong champagne, and Franz's head was reeling. Still he played, played, played, lost, lost, lost, yet played again. His pile was dwindling now with appalling rapidity. He took a pull at the brandy and soda the Seer had obligingly placed by his side. What was this ? The affable stranger was clearing him out every time. Franz began to suspect a plant. Could the man be a swindler ? He glanced at his little heap. A cold thrill coursed through him. Only seven louis left! When those seven were gone — why, then he would be penniless ! The Seer dealt again. With a loud German oath, Franz seized his hand and stopped it. " I sazv you do it,'" he cried. " You rogue, I've found you out ! You felt one card, changed it, and then pushed out another." The Seer sprang up angrily. " That's an imputation on my honour," he cried, standing up and facing him with an air of indignant virtue. " I'm an English gentleman. If you insult me like that " But before he could say another word, — quick as thought, a knife flashed in the air with unspeakable swift- ness. The Seer's hard darted into his pocket for the trusty six-shooter. It was dagger against pistol, Tyroler against Westerner. But Franz was loo sharp for him. Before the Coloradan's deft fingers could reach the trigger of the revolver, that keen blade was buried deep in his THE BUBBLE BURSTS 377 won't leave my bottom /hich was a it lost every I in earnest. ; he laughed inge to say, ^er's fingers md furious; :hanged; he nk quite so regard it, in pile dimin- ect between It the card; ^ery strong Still he fl- ayed again, pidity. He d obligingly ble stranger n to suspect rill coursed those seven oath, Franz I do it,'* he ou felt one exposed left breast— buried deep and gurgling. Without a word, without a groan, the American dropped back short into the easy-chair he had that moment quitted. Blood spurted from the wound— spurted fast in little jets. It had penetrated his heart. He was dead in a second. In less time than it takes to say it, Franz realized what he had done, and pulled himself together from his parox- ysm of passion. Leaving the notes where they lay, he crammed his own gold hastily into his waistcoat pocket, lie let the knife stop in the wound ; it was in no way com- promising. Then he opened the door, and walked calmly out, and down the broad stone steps, and into the streets of Monte Carlo. imputation ig him with gentleman. —quick as kable swift- cet for the tol, Tyroler p for him. the trigger leep in his CHAPTER XLIX THE PIGEON FLIES HOME ; A RoBBLER^s not a man to be lightly discomposed by the mere accident that he hippens to have committed a murder, Franz's first impulse, indeed, as he left that blood-stained room, was to run away helter-skelter from the scene of his hasty crime — to disappear into space — London, the Tyrol, anywhere — without even goingf back to his hotel at Nice to reclaim his portmanteau. But second thoughts showed him how foolish so precipitate a retreat would be. By adopting it, he would be throwing away many valuable chances which now told in his favor. It was wholly to the good, for example, that he'd happened to give his name all along the line as Karl von Forstemann from Vienna. Even if the authorities found reason to suspect him of having killed this man Holmes, they'd lose much useful time in trying to track down the imaginary Von Forstemann ; while he himself might be making his way quietly across the length and breadth of the continent, meanwhile, under his own true name as Franz Lindner of the London Pavilion. Though, to be sure, there was no reason why they should ever suspect him. Hundreds of people flocked in and out of Monte Carlo every day ; hun- dreds of people come and go at every hotel, unnoticed. Be- sides, it wasn't likely the body'd be discovered till to-mor- row morning ; and by that time, Gott sei dank, he'd be safe and away across the Italian frontier. It was early still — only a little past ten. Tremulous and startled by the magnitude of his crime, he strolled about for awhile to cool himself in the Casino gardens. Then a happy thought struck him — he'd go in and play for a bit to avoid suspicion. Hot at heart as he was, but trying his best to look unconcerned, he passed into those huge over- heated rooms once more, and played for half-an-hour with very languid attention. The greater stake now in jeopardy made it difficult for him when he won to remember even to 378 THE PIGEON FLIES HOME 379 sed by the [ a murder. )od-stained e scene of mdon, the ) his hotel d thoughts would be. ly valuable wholly to o give his nann from to suspect lose much ;inary Von [g his way continent, iz Lindner lere was no Lmdreds of day ; hun- iticed. Bc- ;ill to-mor- e'd be safe nulous and Dlled about Then a y for a bit ; trying his huge over- hour with n jeopardy Der even to take up his money ; he let it lie once or twice on the board till it doubled and trebled itself. But that was all to the good ; it suited his book well : people noticed only the more how coolly he was playing. Strange to say, he was win- ning, too, when he cared so little whether he won or lost — winning pounds at a time on every turn of the tables. It was a master-stroke of policy, and Franz plumed himself not a little on being clever enough to think of it. How could people ever say it was lie who killed the man, when he'd spent half the night at play in the gambling rooms of the Casino? At eleven, he left off, several pounds to the good, and strolled down to the station with well-assumed careless- ness. He returned in a carriage with the two jolly young English.men. Casually, on the way, he mentioned to thcii that he was going to leave Nice next morning. At the hotel they broke another bottle of champagne together. Franz sat up, and talked excitedly, and even sang comic songs ; he was afraid to go to bed ; though still self- possessed, and by no means panic-stricken, he was nervous and agitated. That night, he never undressed. He lay in his clothes on the bed, and slept by snatches fitfully. In the morning, he rose early, and looked hard for spots of blood as he washed and dressed himself. But he had done his work far too neatly to spatter his clothes. " Coffee, quick, and my bill ! " he said to the waiter who answered the bell ; " I want to catch an early train at the station for England." He said England on purpose, though he meant it to be Italy. With a true Tyroler's instinct, he would strike straight home — by Milan, Verona, and the Brenner, to St. Valentin. At the station, he took a through ticket, first-class, for Genoa. He had to pass Monte Carlo, and he did so with repugnance. Yet he wasn't much afraid ; the Robbler in- stinct was still strong within him. A couple of fat French- men got into the carriage at Monaco ; they were talking of some tragedy that had happened last night at an hotel at La Condamine. Franz pricked up his ears but tried to look unconcerned. " Somebody dead ? " he inquired in his Teutonic French, with a show of languid interest. " Yes ; another suicide," one of the Frenchmen answered. 38o LINNET shrugging his shoulders, with a smile. " Que voulez-vous? An Englishman — a fellow called Holmes — or, some say, an American. He stabbed himself last night, after losing heavily. He was stopping at my hotel: he went to bea all well ; the servants knocked this morning — got no answer — went in and found the body in a fautcuH, where the malhciircux had stal)bed himself." Franzs eyes gleamed bright. So at first they had put the best intcri)retation upon it ! The mere suspicion of a suicide might give him a start that would enable him to escape. He shrugged his shoulders in return. " A com- mon episode of life as things go at Monte Carlo ! " he mur- mured, philosophically. The Fren:hmen got out and left the train at Mentone. At Ventimiglia, Franz crossed the frontier with a beating heart ; so far, at least, no telegram to arrest or detain him. All morning, the train crawled on at a snail's pace towards Genoa. Franz chafed and grumbled, eating his heart out with impatience. At San Pier d' Arena, the junction-sta- tion, he took his portmanteau in his hand, and re-booked for Milan. There he spent that second night in fear and trembling. On his way up to an hotel, he bought a copy of an evening paper — the Corriere della Sera. The same '■^ory still — Suicidio a Monte Carlo. He didn't sleep much ; but he slept — that was ever some- thing. At seven o'clock, he was up, and walked out to- wards the Cathedral. But that mount of marble, with its thousand spires and its statued pinnacles in the myriad niches, had no power on such a day to arrest his attention ; beside the great west door, he was looking for a boy with a morning newspaper. Soon he found one, and tore it open under the arcades of the Piazza. He knew no Italian, but by the aid of his scanty French he could make out the meaning of one sinister paragraph. " It is now believed that the man Holme or Holmes, who was found stabbed in his room at the Hotel des Etrangers, at Monte Carlo, yesterday morning, met his death by foul means, and not, as was at first suspected, by suicide. The doctors who have examined the wound concur in the opinion that it could hardly by any possibility be self-inflicted. Holmes is now known to have been a notorious card-sharper, and it is THE PIGEON FLIES HOME 381 iiles-voiisf some say, iftcr losing 'ent to beti ? — ^ot no ctiil, where ey had put picion of a ible him to " A com- ! " he mur- t Mentone. h a beating detain him. ice towards s heart out inction-sta- I re-booked in fear and ight a copy The same ever some- ced out to- ile. with its the myriad 3 attention ; a boy with and tore it no Italian, ake out the iw believed stabbed in mte Carlo, s, and not, s who have at it could nes is now and it is surmised that he may have been murdered in a fit of re- vengeful passion by one of liis victims, several of whom he is said to have duped during the last few days in the neighborhood of the Casino. No clue, however, has as yet been obtained to the name or personality of his supposed assailant." Murder! they called it murder to stab that cheating rogue ! and they took him for a murderer just because he'd revenged himself ! When they'd got as far as that, it was probable before long they'd track the deed home to Herr Karl von Forstcmann. Franz saw clearly enough now what his next move must be. Herr Karl von Forstemann must disappear as if by magic from this earthly scene, and Franz Lindner of St. Valentin, and of the London Pa- vilion, that honest and simple-minded Tyrolese musician, must at once replace him. He paid his bill at the hotel, took a cab to the station instead of the omnibus, and caught the through train to Venice direct — throwing the police off his track, if it came to police, by getting out short, portmanteau in hand, at Verona, for the Brenner. All day long, he traveled on by that beautiful mountain line, up the Adige towards Botzen ; and, though he was flying for his life, it gave him none the less a genuine thrill of joy when he beheld once more those beloved Tyrolese peaks, and heard the German tongue spoken with a Tyrolese accent. He slept that night at Botzen. There, he felt his foot once more upon his native heath. In the morning, he rose early, and went into a hatter's, where he bought a Tyrolese hat of the old conical pattern ; all fugitive that he was, the ingrained instincts of his youth yet made him turn the blackcock's feather in it the wrong way forward, Robbler-wise. Vain-glorious still and defiant, nobody would ever have taken him for a run- away criminal. He bought also a pair of stout Tyrolese boots, and introduced a few other little changes in his costume, sufficient to transform him at once from the cos- mopolitan snob into the simple Franz Lindner of the old days at St. Valentin. Then he took the train north again, right through to Innsbruck, where he slept his third night, more confident than before, and had a chance of reading all in a Vienna paper. 1'1 382 LINNET That all was bad enough. No doubt now remained on the minds of the French police that Joaquin Holmes had been really murdered. The hypothesis of suicide broke down at every step. Suspicion pointed most to one or other of three persons whom he was believed to have duped just before the murder. One of these three was being traced by detectives to Marseilles and Paris ; the other two it was believed, had gone on to Italy. In the interest of justice, the police would mention no names at present, but one of these three, they held, must almost certainly be the murderer. Still, the instinct of his race urged Franz on to the St. Valentin. He took the afternoon train north as far as Jenbach ; then he tramped all the way on foot to his native village. It was late when he arrived, and, tired and hunted down, he went straight to the IVirthshaus. Cousin Frido- lin held up his hands in astonishment to see the wanderer. It wasn't merely surprise that Franz should come back at all, but that he should come back as he went — a genuine Tyroler. All were well in the place: the Herr Vicar and everyone. And Andreas Hausberger and Linnet were here as well — returned home for a holiday. It was Franzs turn to start back in prise. What, Andreas and Linnet come back to St. Valentin! Im- possible ! You don't mean it ! But Cousin Floridolin did mean it — with his thumbs in the armholes of his red Tyrolese waistcoat. They'd re- tired for the night — they were here at the inn ; but he'd knock at their door (full of country hospitality as he was, the simple soul !) and tell them to come out and welcome a friend home again. Franz seized his arm to prevent him. " Oh no," he cried ; " not that. . . . There are reasons why you mustn't. . . . Andreas and T had a difference some years ago at Meran ; and though we patched it all up again in a way in London, I don't want to see him now — at least, not till to-morrow." As for Cousin Fridolin, standing back and regarding him in surprise, he could hardly understand these fine town-bred manners. If Franz had come back a true Ty- roler in dress, he brought with him none the less all the imained on lolmes had icide broke to one or have duped was being e other two interest of ^resent, but linly be the n to the St. 1 as far as o his native and hunted lusin Frido- e wanderer. )nie back at — a genuine r Vicar and ^innet were ise. What, ntin ! Im- thumbs in They'd re- n; but he'd as he was. welcome a :^h no." he s why you rcnce some all up again w — at least, THE PIGEON FLIES HOME 383 1 regarding these fine a true Ty- less all the airs and graces of Western civilization, as understood by the frequenters of the London Pavilion. They sat awhile and talked, while Franz ate die rough supper and drank as nmch as was good for him of the thin country beer ; but Cousin Fridolin noticed that his old rival and companion seemed unaccountably stiff and reserved in his demeanor. Especially did he shirk any obtrusive questions as to whence he had come, and by what route he had got there. As they parted for t!ie night, Franz turned to Cousin Fri- dolin, who alone in the village had yet seen or spoken with him. *' Don't tell Andreas and Linnet I came here to- night," he said. " I want them not to know till they meet me as a surprise to-morrow morning." Cousin Fridolin, much wondering, promised compliance with his wish. He lighted Franz to his room, and bade him good-night in a very audible whisper. Herr Andreas and his wife had the next rooms to him, he said. Franz nodded a distant assent, and shook his hand somewhat coldly. The terror that had stood over him since he left Monte Carlo grew somehov/ much deeper, much rearer, much more real, as he found himself once more in these familiar surroundings. He bolted die door with its little wooden button, and sat alone on the bed for some minutes in silence. The solitude appalled him more than ever before ; he felt consc'ous, in some dim way, the hue-and- cry of the police was now well after him. As he sat there and listened to his own heart beating, while the tallow candle guttered on the table by his side, a low sound from the next room began to attract his attention. It was a stifled sound, with a choking sort of sob in it. Just at first, too preoccupied with his own emotions, Franz hardly noticed it ; but at last it obtruded itself upon him by its very unobtrusiveness. C»f a sudden, he realized to himself what manner of noise this was. It was the deep suppressed sound of a woman weeping. With her head under the bed-clothes, she was crying, crying, cry- ing, silently. Rising up from his bed, Franz crept over to the door of communication between the two rooms, his mind for the moment distracted by the sound even from his own im- mediate and pressing danger. For it was borne in upon m^w^ 384 LINNET M :;:il? .-iu-'r him at once by what FridoHn Telser had said, that ^he woman in the next room was none other than Linnet ! Sob, sob, sob, the voice continued, chokingly. Franz could feel rather than hear that the noise was muffled by the intervention of the bed-clothes, and that Linnet, if it was she, was doing the very best she knew to check it. But, in spite of her efforts, the sobs broke out afresh every now and again, spasmodically; she was sobbing, sobbing, sobbing, as if her heart would break — sobbing by herself in the solitude of her bedroom. All terrified as he was, Franz's heart stood still at it. Presently, another door on the far side seemed to open, and a voice was heard saying in low, angry tones, " Won't you stop that noise ? I can't sleep for hearing you." It was Andreas Hausbergers voice ; Fx anz clenched his hands to hear it. But Linnet seemed to raise her head from the bed-clothes at those words, and speak at last with a great effort to calm herself. " Andreas," she said, through her sobs, " as the Church bids, I follow you ; but I can't help crying when 1 think how you treat mc. I cry as silently and quietly as I can to myself. If I keep you awake, you must take another room a little farther off from me. That was all. She said no more; and Andreas closed the door, as Franz judged, and went back again. But even in his own hour of peril and terror — perhaps all the more keenly because of all that had happened to him — Franz read in those few words the whole story of Linnet's un- happy marriage. He had suspected it before, of course, but now he knew it. Andreas's gruff tone of reproof, poor Linnet's shrinking accent of despairing misery. we?e more eloquent in his ears than whole hours of deliberate and demonstrative talking. This episode meant much to him. It was for Linnet he had hazarded and encountered every- thing — it was for Linnet, indirectly, he had risked his own life by stabbing that wretched man away over at Monte Carlo ! His anger burned bright against Andreas Hausberger; Hausberger who had cheated him of his Linnet long ago ; Hausberger who was making his Linnet's life a burden to her! The cold-blooded wretch! How Franz wished it THE PIGEON FLIES HOME 385 d, that ^he innet ! ly. Franz muffled by ,innet, if it check it. fresh every g, sobbing, by herself ;till at it. ed to open, IS, •' Won't ou." lenched his e her head at last with ' she said, w you ; but mc. I cry 1 keep you ler oflf from reas closed 1. But even 11 the more lim — Franz jnnet's un- of course, proof, poor were more iberate and uch to him. ered every- :ed his own r at Monte was into him he had plunged that good knife that did swift execution on the dead cheat at Monte Carlo ! Ah well, ah well, it was not too late even now ! If he couldn't marry Linnet, he could at least avenge her ! He could have wiped out old scores and redressed new wrongs — if it had only been Andreas in place of that other man ! lausberger ; t long ago ; 1 burden to : wished it PPM CHAPTER L ANDREAS HAUSBERGER PAYS That night again Franz didn't trouble to undress. He lay on the bed in his clothes, and let the candle burn out as it would in its socket. Early next morning, with the rest- lessness of a hunted man, he rose betimes, and went down to the wonted breakfast of the inn with Cousin Fridolin. Their talk over their coffee was of Linnet and Andreas. Fridolin retailed to him, bit by bit, all the sinister surmises of the village gossips; people thought at St. Valentin Andreas was jealous at last of his beautiful Frau — Fridolin let his voice drop to a confidential key — and had brought her away hither from some lover in London. Franz smiled bitterly at that thought ; why, the man hadn't heart enough in him to be even jealous — for one may be beneath jealousy as one may be above it. Was he unkind to her? Franz asked, curiously, as Cousin Fridolin broke off in the midst of a sentence. Well, he didn't exactly strike her, Cousin Fridolin be- lieved ; though, to be sure, when she first came to the inn, she bore marks of violence. But she cried all day, and she cried all night; and folks fancied in the village it might perhaps be for Will Deverill. At any rate, she and An- dreas lost no love between them ; many said it was only as a good Catholic she stopped with him. After breakfast, Franz rose up and walked out on the road aimlessly. Restless still, with the ever-present fear of detection upon him, and with the fiery Tyrolese heart eating itself out within, he walked on and on, hardly know- ing why he did so. At last he reached Zell, the little capi- tal of the valley. It was early still, for he had started at daybreak ; but already a strange group of whispering vil- lagers crowded agog round the door of the post-office and telegraph, where the post-master was affixing an official notice. Franz joined them, and read. His blood ran cold 386 ANDREAS HAUSBERGER PAYS 387 ;ss. He lay n out as it h the rest- went down n Fridolin. 1 Andreas. ;r surmises :. Valentin I — Fridolin ad brought )n. Franz ladn't heart be beneath ind to her? e off in the 'ridolin be- to the inn, ay, and she ye it might le and An- Aras only as out on the (resent fear •olese heart irdly know- ; little capi- started at spering vil- »t-office and • an official od ran cold within him. It was a Kaiserlich-Koniglich police an- nouncement of a public reward of ten thousand florins for information leading to the capture of one Karl von Forste- mann of Vienna — age, height, and description as below annexed — accused of the murder of Joaquin Holmes, an American citizen, at Monte Carlo, and known to have re- turned to Austrian territory by Veron? and Botzen, where he had altered his clothing, and gone on to Innsbruck. As Franz read those damning words, he knew in a second all was really up with him. Once they had tracked him so far, they must track him to St. Valentin. Again the instinct of his race drove him back towards his native village, after a word or two interchanged with his friends at the post-office. Those simple country souls never dreamt in tlieir hearts of suspecting their okl comrade, Franz Lindner the j'dger, who had come back unex- pectedly, like Andreas and Linnet, of being the Karl von Forstemann of Vienna referred to in the announcement. But Franz knew it couldn't be long before the police were on his track ; ani' he turned and fled upwards to his old liome at St. Valentin, like a fox to its lair, or a rabbit to its burrow. All the way up the hill his soul seethed within him. He would sell his life dear, if the worst came to the worst; they should fight for it low before ever they took him. He had stopped at a sliop at Zell to buy a j'dgcr's knife, in place of the one he had left behind him at Monte Carlo, in the card-sharper's body. He stuck it ostentatiously in the leather belt he had bought at Botzen to complete his costume ; as he went on his way, he fingered it ever and anon with affectionate familiarity. Old moods came back to him ; with his feather in his hat and his blade by his side, he felt himself once more a true Tyrolese Robbler. The thin veneer of Regent Street had dropped off as if by magic ; when they wanted to arrest him, they should fight for it first; who would take him, must follow him like a fleet-footed chamois up the rocks behind St. Valentin. And whoever came first should receive that good knife, plump so, in his bosom, or plunge his own. if he could, into Franz's. He would die like a man with his dagger in his hand. No rope or axe should ever finish the life of a free mountain jdgerl 388 LINNET Thus thinking to himself, at last he reached the inn. On the threshold, Cousin Fridolin met him, distinctly peni- tent. " Andreas knows you're here, friend Franz," he said, with a reluctant air. " I didn't quite tell him, but he guessed it, and wormed it out of me. He's gone for a walk just now with Linnet — she's grown such a fine lady. But there, I forgot ; you've seen her in London." " Yes ; I've seen her in Lo'^don," Franz answered, half- dreamily, in a musing undertone. His voice was as the voice of a condemned criminal. He knew he was doomed. He knew he must die. It might be to-day, or it might be to-morrow ; but, sooner or later, he felt sure, the police would be after him. He stalked moodily into the inn, and dropped, tired, into a chair in the parlor bar, wit!, his legs extended straight in front of him in a despondent attitude. There he sat and reflected. Cousin Fridolin's voice ran on, but Franz never heeded it. How little it meant to him now, Cousin Frido- lin's chatter about Linnet and Andreas ! What did he care whether they were rich enough to buy up the whole parish, as Fridolin asserted, and have money left over? In a few short weeks, nothing on earth would make any difference. He gazed at his feet, and kniit his brows, and breathed hard. Cousin Fridolin by his side ran on unchecked. Franz an- swered him nothing. By-and-by the latch lifted — and Andreas Hausberger entered, followed close by Linnet. Andreas gazed at his man angrily. Th€i he turned round to his wife. " Go to your room, Linnet," he said, in his stern tone of command. " I must speak with this fel- low." Linnet, cowed and trembling, slank off without a word. Franz could see she was pale, and had suffered greatly. Her cheeks had fallen in, her color had flown, her lips were bloodless, her eye had lost its lustre. Andreas spoke to her in an ugly, domineering voice. Franz glared at him in his wrath. Surely, surely it was high time old scores were wiped out, and this question at least of Linnet's hap- piness §ettled." He must die himself soon; of that he felt quite sure; 'tis a chance which a Robbler has long been accustomed to keep vividly before him. But it would be something at ANDREAS HAUSBERGER PAYS 389 d the inn. nctly peni- :," he said, m, but he l^one for a I iine lady. ered, half- vas as the IS doomed, r it might the pohce tired, into straight in he sat and ranz never isin Frido- did he care lole parish, In a few difference, dthed hard. Franz an- [iausberger he turned he said, in ith this fel- )ut a word, ed greatly. tr lips were IS spoke to ired at him old scores Innet's hap- quite sure; ustomed to mething at least to feel he didn't lose his own life in vain ; that he was avenging himself on Andreas, and freeing Linnet. If guillotined he r^.iist be, it was better he should be guil- lotined for kil'ing Andreas Hausberger on a woman's be- half, than for stabbing a base card-sharper in a drunken brawl at Monte Carlo. In such temper, at last, did Franz Lindner stand up and confront with mortal hate his old un forgiven enemy. An- dreas turned to him with a little sneer. He spoke in Eng- lish, lest Cousin Fridolin, bustling about behind the bar at his business, should overhear him and know what they were saying. " Well, what are you doing here ? " he asked, with a contemptuous curl of those cynical lips. " Devcrill sent you, I suppose. You've come all this way to spy upon me and my wife as his flunkey." Franz took a step forward, and glared at him fiercely from under his eyebrows. " I have not, liar," he an- swered, his fingers twitching. " I didn't know you were here, and I am no man's flunkey." The return to his native air and his native costume, coupled with the gravity and danger of the situation, seemed to have raised him all at once from the music-hall Icel to the higher and nobler plane of the Tyrolese moun- taineer. He looked and moved every inch a freeman — nay, more, he confronted Andreas with such haughty self-confi- dence that his enemy, surprised, drew back half a step and surveyed him critically. " That's a very strange coinci- dence," Andreas murmured, after a short pause. " It's curious you should choose the exact moment to come when I happened to be at St. Valentin." Franz scowled at him yet again. " You can take it how you like," he retorted, in German, with a toss of the head in his old defiant fashion. " If you choose to think I came here to follow you and fight you, you're at liberty to think so. I'm ready, if you are. I've an old cause of quarrel against you, recollect, Andreas Hausberger. You robbed me by fraud long ago of the woman I loved ; you married her by force; and you've made her life unhappy. If I dogged you, which I haven't done, I'd have cause enough and to spare. You remember that first night when I saw you in London, in Mrs. Palmer's box at the Harmony Theater? Well, if it hadn't been for the presence of the FW 390 LINNET woman I loved — the woman you stole from me — that very night, you false cur, I'd have buried my knife in you." Andreas drew back yet another pace. He was taller than Franz, very big and powerful. With a contemptuous look, he measured his enemy from head to foot. " Why, you couldn't, you fool," he answered, drawing himself up to his full height. " 1 never yet was afraid of you or of any man. Many's the time I've turned you, drunk, out of this very room. I'll turn you out again if you dare to speak so to me ! " He was ^vearing a Tyrolese hat, just like Franz's own ; he had bought it at Jenbach on his eastward route, to re- turn, as was his wont, at each fresh visit home, to the simplicity and freedom of his native mountains. Before Franz's very eyes he removed it from his head, and, with a sneer on his face, turned the blackcock's feather Robbler- wise as a challenge of defiance. No Robbler on earth could overlook such a wager of battle. Trembling with rage, Franz Lindner spranj forth, and leaped angrily towards him. His face was black as night; his brow was like thunder. He snatched the hat from Andreas's head with a deft flank movement, and tore hastily from its band the offending emblem. " Was kost die Feder ? " he cried, in a tone of angry contempt, holding it up triumphantly before its owner's eyes. All the west was blotted out; Franz Lindner was himself again. He was a Robbler once more, with the hot blood of his Robblerhood boiling fierce within him. Quick as lightning, the familiar answer rang out in clear tones, " Fiinf Finger und ein Griff ! " Andreas brooked no such insult. " Five fingers and a grip " — he should have if he wanted them. Before Cousin Fridolin had time to understand what was passing before his eyes, or to intervene to prevent it — in the twinkle of an eye. with extraordinary rapidity, the two men had closed, hands and arms fast locked, and were grappling with one another in a deadly struggle. Franz flung himself upon his foe like a tiger in its fury. One moment, his knife flashed high in air. Cousin Fridolin rushed forward, and strove to tear them asunder. But, before he could reach them, that gleaming blade had risen above Franz's head and flashed down again, with unerring ANDREAS HAUSBERGER PAYS 391 — that very 1 you." s taller than ntemptuous )t. "Why, himself up f you or of unk, out of ou dare to anz's own; Dute, to re- »me, to the IS. Before and, with a ir Robbler- aim, on Andreas Hausberger's bosom. The big man fell back heavily, both hauds pressed to his heart, where black blood was oozing out in long, deep, thick gurgles. With a sudden jerk, Franz flung down the knife he had wrenched from the wound. It stuck quivering by its point in the wooden flooring. Then he thrust his hands into his pockets, with one foot pushed forward. He clenched his teeth, and bent his head towards the dying man's body. " I always meant to kill you," he cried, in his gratified rage, " and, thank God and all blessed saints, to-day I've done it." Cousin Fridolin jumped forward, and bent aghast over the body. But Franz stood still, gazing on it calmly. At that moment, the door opened, and Linnet entered. I wager of ran J forth, IS black as ed the hat it, and tore z of angry its owner's indner was ;, with the hin him. mg out in " Andreas grip " — he itand what revent it — ipidity, the [, and were ^le. Franz Fury. One in Fridolin ider. But, e had risen :h unerring ^wp CHAPTER LI EXIT FRANZ LINDNER The first thing Linnet felt, as she sprang forward to her husband, who lay dying or dead on the floor in front of her, was a pervading sense, not of sorrow or of affection, but of horror at a great crime successfully accomplished. " You've killed him, you've killed him ! " she cried aloud to Franz. " O Fridolin, quick, quick, run and fetch the Herr Vicar ! He's breathing still ; I can hear him ever breath- ing! Perhaps there's time yet for him to receive extreme unction." To all of them, the sacraments were the chief things to be thought of. Fridolin hurried off as he was bid, rousing the house as he went with a loud cry of alarm to come and look after Linnet. But Linnet herself sat on the ground all aghast, with her husband's head laid heavy in her lap, trying to staunch his wound helplessly, and wringing her hands now and again in a blind agony of terror. Mean- while, Franz stood by as if wholly unmoved, regarding the entire scene with a certain sardonic and triumphant self- satisfaction. He wouldn't die for nothing, as things had turned out now; he had avenged himself at least on his lifelong enemy ! He stood there many minutes, with his hands in his pockets, growing cooler and cooler as he reflected on his deed, and more and more glad in his heart to think he had done it. So Linnet at least would be free! it was ever something to have rid her of Andreas Hausberger ! Men and women came in, and lifted Andreas where he lay, and stretched him on the bed in the adjoining room, and stripped off part of his clothes, and washed the wound, and examined it. But nobody as yet thought of arresting Franz or molesting him in any way. He stood there still, the one wholly unconcerned and careless person in that excited assembly. His rage had cooled down by this, and 392 EXIT FRANZ LINDNER 393 ward to her in front of of affection, !complished. •ied aloud to tch the Herr ever breath- iive extreme ief things to bid, rousing to come and I the ground y in her lap, v^ringing her ror. Mean- egarding the nphant self- 5 things had least on his lands in his ected on his :hink he had it was ever ;rger ! Men I he lay, and room, and wound, and of arresting >d there still, rson in that by this, and he was perfectly collected. He was waiting for the village authorities to come and take him into custody. The priest arrived in due time, with the holy oil aid the viaticum; but, pronouncing Andreas dead, refused to ad- minister the sacraments. The doctor came, too, a little later than the priest, and confirmed the Herr Vicar's un- favorable verdict. Linnet sat and wrung her hands by the bedside where he lay, more at the suddenness of the event, and the unexpected horror of it, than from any real sense of affection or bereavement. The little crowd in the room gathered in small knots and whispered low arourd Franz. But Franz stood coolly looking on, without making an at- tempt to escape, less interested in what had occurred than anyone else in the village. What was one murder more to the man who was wanted from Monte Carlo to St. Val- entin ? By-and-by, a fresh commotion arose outside the inn. The crowd in the room divided, and buzzed eagerly. The Herr Landrath, they said, had come to arrest the murderer. Franz looked around him defiantly, as they whispered and stared at him. But no man laid a hand on him. No man dared to touch him. The Landrath himself hesitated to enter the place where the dead man lay, and arrest the murderer, red-handed, in presence of the priest, the corpse, the widow. "Is Franz Lindner in there ? " he asked solemnly from the doorway. Anc* Franz answered in a firm and unshaken voice, " He is so. ilerr Kaiserh'ch-Koniglich Commissary." " Come out," the official said. And with a bold and haughty tread Franz Lindner came out to him. " In the name of the Emperor-Xing, I arrest you, Franz Lindner, for the wilful murder of Andreas Hausberger in this village," the Commissary said sternly, laying his hand on his prisoner's shoulder. Franz laughed a discordant laugh. " And, in the name of the Emperor-King, you shall run for it, by Our Blessed Frau," he answered, contemptuously. He shook the hand from his shoulder with an easy jerk, and pushed back the Landrath, who was a heavy man of more than middle-age, with those two stout arms of his. " Follow and catch me, who can," he cried, laughing loud once more, " Kaiser- lich-Koniglich Commissary ! " And before they all knew 'm^mf;f^m 394 LINNET what was happening under their eyes, with a bound like a wild beast Franz had darted to the door, pushed his way through the little group that obstructed the threshold, hit out right and left with elbows and fists against all who strove to stop him, tripped up the first man who tried to seize him by the coat, and sprung by the well-known path up the free mountains behind them. " Follow him ! " the Commissary gasped out, collecting his breath, and pulling himself together again after the unexpected shaking. " In the law's name and the Em- peror-King's, all 2^ood subjects, follow him ! " Three or four of the younger men, thus adjured and called on personally to i.rrest the criminal, darted after him at full speed up the slope of the mountain. But they fol- lowed just at first with somewhat half-hearted zeal; for why should they wish thus to seal the fate of an old friend and comrade? As they advanced, Franz waved his hat derisively a hundred yards in front of them. In his old jdger days, not Fridolin Telser himself was so swift to follow the clambering chamois among the peaks and pin- nacles above the pine-clad forest. All those years of in- dulgence in crowded cities had weakened his bodily vigor and relaxed his muscles; but in the soul he felt himself still once more as of old the free mountain hunter. " Come on ! " he shouted aloud, with a wild jodel of challenge. " Come, and catch me if you can. Who comes first, gets my fist in his face and knife in his heart. Arrest me if you dare. If you try it, you may sup to-night in purgatory, at a t^t) side by side with Andreas Haus- berger ! " He fled up the mountain with incredible speed for a person so out of training; but his native air braced him, and the double excitement of the last few days seemed to stimulate his nerves and limbs to extraordinary energy. A man runs his best when he runs for his life. On and on Franz mounted, past the pine-wood and the boulder where Linnet sat long ago with Will Deverill, and up to the crags beyond, where blank patches of snow still lurked here and there in the sunless crevices. Every now and then he looked back to see how far he had distanced his pursuers. He gained at each step. He had one great advantage. lie was flying for dear life, whither or why he knew not ; they EXIT FRANZ LINDNER 395 a bound like shed his way hreshold, hit linst all who who tried to [-known path ut, collecting ain after the ind the Em- adjured and ted after him But they fel- ted zeal; for an old friend aved his hat . In his old 5 so swift to ;aks and pin- years of in- bodily vigor felt himself Iter. " Come of challenge, les first, gets eart. Arrest p to-night in idreas Haus- speed for a braced him, lys seemed to ry energy. A On and on loulder where 3 to the crags ked here and and then he his pursuers, vantage. He lew not ; they were following unwillingly, in the name of the law, the footsteps of an old friend and boon companion. Above, all was snow. In those northward valleys winter loiters late, and spring comes but tardily. Once among the firn, Franz could give them the slip, he felt sure ; he could lurk behind rocks, or hide among the klamms, and let the baffled pursuers pass by unnoticing. But no — but no — ach, Gott, the footprints ! With a sudden revul- sion he realized his error. Those years in milder climates had made him forget for a moment the hopelessness of es- caping if he once reached the snow-line. Appalled and dis- mayed, he trirned and hesitated. Then he dashed ofif at an angle, horizontally along the hill, at the same general level, so as to avoid the snow-covered glaciers. That one false move lost him. His pursuers, seeing him double, headed forward diagonally across the third side of the triangle, and gained on him visibly. Franz was blown and pant- ing. His heart throbbed hard ; he had overtaxed it sadly in that first wild burst up the ramping hillside. Again he paused, and looked back. The hopelessness and futility of the whole thing broke in upon him. If he ran all day and all night as well — if he distanced that little body of amateur pursuers for the moment — what would it profit him in the end? Could he evade arrest at last? could he escape the clutches of the Austrian law, shake off the strong hand of the Kaiserlich-Koniglich government? All at once, seized with a sudden little access of despair, he sat down on the hillside, and laughed aloud audibly. " Ha, ha, ha," he cried hoarsely, at the very top of his voice, as his antagonists drew nearer, " So you think you'll catch me ! You think you'll get well paid ! You want to earn a reward on me ! Well, look here, Ludwig Dangl," and he shouted through his bent hand to the foremost of his pur- suers, " there's ten thousand florins set on my head already for stabbing a man dead in an hotel at Monte Carlo — and it's yours ... if you catch me ! Come on, friend, and earn it ! " He had grown reckless now. The dare-devil spirit of the man who knows well he has forfeited his life and has no chance of escape left, had wholly taken hold of him. He sat there, by the Kamin, waiting till the pursuers were almost upon him. " Ten thousand florins ! " he shouted p^Wf 396 LINNET aloud once more, waving his hat above his head, as he jumped up when they neared him. " Ten thousand florins is a nice round sum! Will you have it, Ludwig Dangl? will you have it, Karl Furst ? will you have it, Fritz Mair- hofer?" His very recklessness appalled them. The men thought he must be mad. They paused, and stared hard at him. There were only three now. Neither liked to advance first. Franz waved his hat frantically, and beckoned them on towards the weathered crags that overlook St. Valentin. Great rocks there rose sheer over fissurred gullies. The men hardly ventured to follow him up to those frowning heights. Heaven knows what a madman, in such a mood as that, may do or dare among the cleft troughs and gorges! They halted, — debated, — then came on towards him, abreast, more slowly, step by step, in a little formed body. But Franz, now restored by a momentary pause, leaped upward like a chamois over the steep path in front of him. The fresh mountain air seemed to nerve and in- vigorate him. On, on, he bounded swift over the jagged steps in the rock, till he poised himself at last like a mountain goat on the very edge of the precipice. It was a sheer cliff that looked down on a great snowdrift in a ravine two hundred feet beneath him. The Robbler in- stinct in Franz's blood had now gained complete mastery. He waved his hat again, with its feather turned insultingly. " Ten thousand florins ! " he cried once more, in his loudest voice. " Ten thousand florins ! Who wants them ? Who'll earn them ? " He laughed aloud in their faces. The three men drew on cautiously. Franz waited till they came up. Then Lud- wig Dangl, mustering up courage to take the first step, stood forward and laid hands on him. Straightway Franz seized his assailant round the body with a wrestler's grip. Ludwig tried to disengage himself: but 'twas a narrow and dangerous spot for wrestling. With a sudden wrench, Franz lifted him from the ground. Holding h^'m grasped in his arms, he looked over the edge of the precipice. Next instant, he had leaped, with Ludwig Dangl in his embrace. One loud cry burst at once from both their straining throats. A cry of wild triumph ; a cry of fierce despair. Then all was silence. EXIT FRANZ LINDNER 397 head, as he (usand florins dwig Dangl? , Fritz Mair- men thought hard at him. advance first, ned them on St. Valentin, g^ullies. The 3se frowning such a mood troughs and ; on towards little formed mtary pause, path in front lerve and in- ;r the jagged t last like a ce. It was a owdrift in a Robbler in- ilete mastery, d insultingly, in his loudest lem? Who'll The other two men, looking awestruck and horrified over the edge of the crag, saw them fall two hundred feet sheer into the soft snow beneath. It received them gently. Not a sign marked the spot where the two bodies sank in. The soft snow closed over them. But they must have been dead many seconds before they reached the bottom. men drew on Then Lud- he first step, htway Franz estler's grip, as a narrow Iden wrench, h'm grasped he precipice. Dangl in his n both their cry of fierce CHAPTER LII ■ i A CONFESSION OF FAITH It was a terrible time for Linnet, those few days at the inn, while she waited to bury her murdered husband. She felt so lonely, here among her own people ; her isolation came out even more vividly than she could have expected; she had outgrown them, that was the fact, and they could no longer sympathize with her. Their very deference and re- spect chilled her heart to the core in that appalling season of solitary wretchedness : they regarded her just in the light of the great lady from London, too grand and too fine for them to venture upon comforting her. So Linnet was forced to have out her dark hour by herself, and be content for the rest with the respectful silence of her poor fellow-country-people. The first night, In particular, was a very painful trial to her. By evening, they had brought back Franz's body from the snowdrift ; and now it lay with Ludw^"g Dangl beside her dead husband's in the dancing-hall that stood just below the very room where Linnet had to spend the first night of her widowhood. Though she kept the candle burning, and the crucifix by her side, the awful sense of solitude through the long slow hours, with those three hostile corpses lying side by side in the hall beneath her, made her shudder with affright each time she woke with a start from a snatch of hurried sleep, much disturbed by hateful dreams, to the reality of her still more hateful position. Early next morning, however, a messenger arrived post- haste from Zell, with a telegram directed to Frau Haus- berger, St. Valentin. Linnet tore it open mechanically, half dreading some fresh surprise. As she read it, she drew a deep breath. Oh, that dear, dear Rue ! This was quite too good of her. " Have heard of your trouble, and 398 A CONFESSION OF FAITH 399 lys at the inn, ind. She felt solation came expected; she ;hey could no rence and re- )allin'T season r just in the rand and too r. So Linnet srself, and be e of her poor ainful trial to Franz's body ,udw^"g Dangl all that stood to spend the ept the candle wful sense of h those three 1 beneath her, e woke with a disturbed by more hateful • arrived post- ) Frau Haus- mechanically, e read it, she le! This was ir trouble, and sympathize with you deeply. Am on my way to join you. Shall reach St. Valentin to-morrow evening." It was a measure to Linnet of how English she had be- come, that, as she stood on the platform at Jenbach next day, awaiting the arrival of Rue's train from Innsbruck, she felt as though she were expecting the advent of some familiar home-friend, coming to cheer her solitude in a land of strangers. When at last the train drew up. Rue leapt from the carriage into her rival's arms, and caressed her tenderly. Linnet looked sweet in her simple dark dress, the plainest she possessed, for she hadn't yet had time to get her mourning ready. How did you hear of it all, you dear kind Rue?" she inquired, half-hysterically, clasping her new friend to her bosom in a sudden outburst of sated sympathy. " It couldn't surely have got so soon into the English papers." " No, dear," Rue answered, in her tenderest tone, laying one soft hand soothingly on the pale cheek as she answered. " I'd written to St. Valentin beforehand, to some one whose address Will Deverill gave me, asking for news of you every day, and enclosing money; and he telegraphed to me at once as soon as all this happened. His name's Fridolin Telser, and Will says he is a cousin of yours. So, of course, as soon as I heard, I felt I must come out, post haste, to join you; for I knew, Linnet, how lonely you'd be — and how much in need of a woman's sympathy." Linnet answered nothing. That ** of course " was too much for her. She burst into tears instead, and sobbed her full heart out contentedly on Rue's friendly shoulder. They drove back to St. Valentin hand-in-hand together. That night, Rue slept with her, in a little room in the village; and though they talked for hours with one an- other, and only dozed at intervals, Linnet rose next morn- ing fresher and stronger by far than she had felt at any time since the day of the murder. Rue stopped on with her all that week, till Andreas was buried, and she could leave St. Valentin. Linnet shrank now from taking anything that had ever been his. The Wirthshaus was to be sold : Cousin Fridolin bought it at a low price with his hoarded savings, and the proceeds were to be devoted to a new school for the village. The Herr Vicar, too, was richer by many masses for the repose ^f^sppni 400 LINNET of the unworthy soul which Linnet felt sure had now much need of his orisons. Nor were even Franz Lindner and Ludwig Dangl forgotten : the shrine on the hill-top, by the Chamois Rocks, marking the spot whence they took their fatal leap, was erected, the guides will tell you, '' by the famous singer, Casalmonte, who came originally from this village." Rue went back with her friend to London, stopping a week or two by the way at quiet country spots in the Bavarian Highlands, on the Rhine, and in Belgium. 'Twas early June when they reached tc "n. Rue wouldn't hear of Linnet's returning to her old house in St. John's Wood, where everything would remind her of that hateful past: she Insisted that her " new sister," as she called her, must share for the present her home in Hans Place, till other arrangements could be made for her. " Besides," she added, with a little smile, full of deeper import, " it'll save scandal, you know. You mustn't live alone. It's best you should stop in some other woman's house, till vou've arrived at some fixed understanding as to your future." It was in Rue's drawing-room, accordingly, a few vveeks later, that Linnet for the first time saw Will Deverill once more after all that had happened. With the same gene: 3 as self-restraint he had always shown whenever Linnet's reputation was concerned, Will had denied himself for many days the pleasure of calling upon her. When at last he came. Linnet made up her mind beforehand she should receive him with becoming calmness and dignity. But the moment Will entered the room, and took her two hands in his, and looked deep into her dark eyes, and stood there silent, thrilling through from head to foot at sight of her, yet rejoicmg in heart at his one love recovered — why, as' for Linnet, she just looked up at him, and drew short gasps of breath, and held his hands tight in her own, and then with a sweet half -unconscious self-surrender let herself fall slowly, slowly upon his bosom. There he allowed her to lie long without speaking one word to her. What need of words between those two who understood one another instinctively? what chance of concealing the hope and joy each felt, and knew and communicated, un- A CONFESSION OF FAITH 401 I now much ^indner and -top, by the / took their m, " by the [y from this stopping a ipots in the n Belgium, ue wouldn't 1 St. John's that hateful e called her, IS Place, till " Besides," nport, " it'll alone. It's s house, till as to your a few weeks )everill once ne gene. 3 us -^er Linnet's himself for When at Drehand she md dignity. 00k her two s, and stood oot at sight recovered — 1, and drew in her own, urrender let There he vord to her. understood icealing the nicated, un- spoken, by mere contact to the other ? For touch is to love the most eloquent of the senses. At last they found words, and talked long and eagerly. There was no question between them now in what relation they must henceforth stand to one another, it was mere details of time, and place, and propriety — the when and hov/ and where — that interested them at present. " But you can get a dispensation for me ? " Linnet asked, nestling close to him. Will smiled a gentle smile. " There's little need of dis- pensation, for you and me, my darling," he said, holding her hand tenderly. " You would have given me yourself once, in spite of the Church and the world : you can surely give me yourself now without a qualm of conscience, when the Church and the world will both smile approval. To me. Linnet, the whole sanctity of a union between us lies infinitely deeper than any man's sanction, be he priest or Pope or king or lawgiver. As I said to you, once before, you are mine, and I an yours, not by any artificial bond, but by the voice of our hearts, which is the voice of nature and of God within us : and whom God hath joined together, man cannot join firmer, nor yet put asunder. But if it pleases you to ask some priest's leave for the union no priest en earth can possibly make sacreder — yes; set your heart at rest about that, darling: — I've seen the Arch- bishop already, and he's promised to get you the regular papal dispensation." Linnet leant back, and gazed up at him. Her gaz_ was half fear, half frank admiration. " Dearest Will," she said, pleadingly, in her pretty foreign English, " you're a man, I'm a woman, and therefore illogical: forgive me. I've been brought up to think one way, which I know is a dreadful way: my own heart tells me how foolish and cruel and wicked it is to think so; and yet — may the Blessed Madonna and all holy saints forgive me for saying it — I should be afraid of their anger and the eternal hell if I dared to disbelieve in what seems so cruel. You speak to me of another way, which my own heart tells me is just and pure and good and beautiful — which my head approves as common-sense and sound reasoning; and yet — may the Blessed Madonna forgive me again — though I 402 LINNET •■ ; try hard to believe it, the teachings of my childhood rise up at every step and prevent my accepting it. I can't un- derstand this mystery of open war between God and our hearts — between God, who made them, on the one hand, and what is best, not what is worst, within them, on the other. 1 pray for light, but no light comes. Why should God's law fight so hard against God's instincts in our souls — against all that we feel to be purest, noblest, truest, best in our nature ? " " Not God's law," Will said gently, smc^thing her hand with his own, " but the priests'. Linnet, the priests', — which is something quite different. God's law- is never some pre- cept beyond and outside us : it is the law of our own being, the law of our own hearts, the law of the native instincts and impulses that stir us. Your marriage with Andreas, were it twenty times blessed by priest or by Pope, was from the very first moment an unholy and unnatural one. It was a sin against purity and your own body ; it was a legalized lie, a life-long adultery. You felt its shame yourself, and shrank from the man physically. Your heart was not his, so how could your body be ? Even the laws of men would have allowed you to leave him and come home to me, whose complement and mate you are by nature, after his treatment of you that day, and your discovery of his letter to Philippina. But the laws of your Church, which are not the laws of men but the laws of priests — and therefore worse and more unnatural than even the common laws of mankind — forbade you to take advantage of the loophole of escape which divorce would permit you from that wicked union your priests had imposed upon you. The Church or the law that bids you live with a man you loathe and despise that Church or law dishonors your own nature; that Church and that law is not of God, nor even of man, but of priests and the devil. The Church or the law that forbids you to live with the man your own heart dictates and points out to you, is equally of the devil. And see how it proves itself so! It needed the intervention of Franz Lindner's knife to free you from your false inion with Andreas Hausberger ! Can that Church and that law be right or sound which make a murder the one loophole by which a soul can free itself from the unholy bond they would jrnwillingly impose upon it? Your own heart told A CONFESSION OF FAITH 403 5od rise an't un- and our le hand, , on the J should ur souls est, best ler hand — which Dme pre- n being, instincts \ndreas, vas from ;. It was legalized self, and > not his, en would t to me, after his his letter h are not therefore I laws of loophole It wicked ! Church athe and nature ; of man, law that : dictates And see mtion of Ise mion I that law loophole )ond they leart told you it was wrong and dishonoring to live with Andreas; your own heart shrank from his loveless embraces ; your own heart showed you it was right to leave him, and fly away to the man you loved, the man that loved you. Will you believe that God's law is worse than your own heart? Will you think there's something divine in an institution of men which compels you to degrade and dishonor your own body, to sin so cruelly against your own pure in- stincts? Nothing can be wickeder, I say, than for a wo- man to sell herself or to yield herself in any way to a man she loathes. No Church and no law can make right of that wrong: it's degrading and debasing to her moral nature. The moment a woman feels she gives herself up against her own free will and the instincts of her own heart she is living in sin — and you know it, Linnet — though all the priests and all the Popes on earth should stretch robed arms and hands to bless and absolve her." He spoke with fierce conviction. Linnet nestled against his breast : his words overcame her. " I know it. Will, I know it," she exclaimed, half-hysterically. " My heart told me so always — but I couldn't believe it. I can't be- lieve it now, — though I know you're right when I hear you speak so. Perhaps, some day, when I've lived with you long enough, I shall come to think and feel as you do. . . . But for the present, my darling, I'm so glad, oh, so glad, — don't laugh at me for saying it — that you've got a dispensation." THE END