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PZ3 ■«i i9i5j EntereH according to Act of the Parlf«ment of C.inacim in the year one thousund eight hundred and ninety hy Wim.iam Brvce in the office of the Minister o< Agriculture. - i i CONTENTS. Chapter I.-Mr. Bligh .... **■*• 5 II.— Miss Bligh . . . 14 III — The Heir Apparent ... •^ • • 22 'V.— Madame Souravieff 30 V — Mark's Lawyer . ^ 3>^ VI.— Archie Goes Out Fish in • ' 47 VII.— The Arrival of the AHen 5d VIII.— Cicely is Interested r IX.— Morton Represents the Family -, X.— Cicely has Poor Sport XL— Coppard in TroubJt ... a, or XII.— Lady Dare's Bail, 9'' XIII.-Bobby is Put Out of Susper. ,<• ...,,.. ,0^ XIV.-Mr. Bligh States his Intentions , , , XV.— Mark Makes Peace XVI.— Archie's Triumph .... ^ 1 20 XVII.— Morton Scandalises his H<,.t ,37 XVIII.- Fortuna Saevo Lata Negotio /^ ,46 XIX.— Death by Misadventure 15-2 XX.— Archie Returns 161 XXL— Coppard's Conjectures ^^^^ XXII.— Victor Reappears '^^ 170 XX 1 1 1. -Mark's Tenant.... 183 XXI V.-Madame Souravieff is Criticised . . . I ,^0 CONTENTS— Continued. Chapter P»ff' XXV.— Sir Peter Shakes His Head igy XXVI.— Madame Souravieff Sets to Work 206 XXVn.— Bobby's Glory 214 XXVHI.— Clumsiness and Skill 221 XXIX. -Count Souravieffs Correspondence 230 XXX.— A Little Loss of Temper 2jf( XXXI. A Revelation 2-|0 XXXII. -The Sword Falls 255 XXXIII. — A Competent Adviser 2()i XXXIV.— Mark's Opportunity 2 jy XXXV.— Sympathy 276 XXXVI.— An Athletic Meeting 2S3 XXXVII.— The Memory of the Past 291 XXXVIII.— The Return of the Hero ' 299 XXXIX.— Cicely is Incensed 306 XL. — Bobby as a Detective 313 XLI. Archie is Made Ready 322 XLII. — Theodori Declines a Fortune 330 XLIII.— Mutiny 337 XLIV. — Mr. Lowndes' Lef^acy 345 XLV. — Archie's Sentence 352 XLVI. Mr. Lowndes' Holiday 359 XLVII.— Last Words 366 XLVIII. Madame Souravieff Ilea is Some Ciood News .... 373 XLIX. —Mark is Spared a Jounu;y 381 L. -Cicely Decides 3S9 LI. — Mark Takes Leave of Abbotsporl 395 LII. — Conclusion 404 TtLgt 199 206 214 , 221 , 230 . ^^(> . 2()l . 209 . 276 . 28j . 291 . 299 . 30''' • 313 - 322 ..337 ; . . 345 •• 352 .. 359 .. 366 ■• 373 .. 381 .. i% • • 395 .. 404 MISADVENTURE. CHAPTER I. MR. BLIGH. *• It is all very well, " ol)served Mr. Bligh, " to say I am not responsible ; and perhaps in a certain sense I am not. Looking back upon the past, I suppose I may claim to liave done as much for Morton as most fathers do for their sons. I sent him to Eton and Oxford ; I have always made him a handsome allowance ; I have paid his debts for him several times with more or less of cheerful- ness ; I even remember that when he was a boy, I whipped him twice — the second time rather severely — for acts of wanton cruelty to animals. Moreover, he has had the full benefit of my experience of life and my large phil- jsophy, while you, my dear Lowndes, have, I know, preachedyour very best sermons, both doctrinal and practi- cal, at him. If, after all this, he has chosen to go to the deuce, the consequences should be upon his own head, you think. But then comes the question of how far any of us are answerable for our proclivities, or ought to be })unished for the natural results of them." The speaker was a man whom most peopk would have pronounced at first sight to be nearer seventy tiian sixty, because his hair and his short beard were as white as snow, and because the clear, pale skin of his face was fur- rowed by such deep lines ; but closer inspection conveyed the idea that these were lines of suffering, and that he was probably younger than he looked. As a matter of fact, lie had at this time only just turned his fifty-first year. He was reclining, as he did all day long, in a wheeled chair close to a bay-window, whence he could survey some part of the broad lands which he owned but could not tread. Long periods of neuralgic or rheumatic pain (so called by the doctors, who could find neither a cause ^nawi MISADVENTURE. nor a cure for them^ had culminated at length in what all the doctors were agreed in describing as creeping par- alysis, and had changed into a frail, worn-out wreck of humanity one whom many middle-aged people could remember as a keen sportsman, a first-rate judge of a horse, and a very popular frequenter of London drawing- rooms. Even now he had not lost all trace of the good looks for which he had once been famous, nor had disease, trouble, and disappointment robbed his smile of its good- humoured kindliness. His friend, Mr. Lowndes, the Rector of Abbotsport, was his senior by some half-dozen years or so, and looked capable of outliving him by a quarter of a century at least. Tall, broad-shouldered, and ruddy, his thick black hair and whiskers being only here and there streaked with grey, Mr. Lowndes, had it not been for the clerical garb that he wore, would have had a good deal more of the appearance of a country squire than the crippled invalid whom he sat facing, with a hand on each knee. He said : •' Now, Bligh, you are going to mount one of your fan- tastic hobbies. You want to excuse and explain every- thing upon some fanciful theory of inherited tendency, which can't hold water for a single moment. Added to which, you are paying a poor compliment to your fore- fathers by assuming that Morton inherited his tendencies from them. He certainly didn't get them from you." •' I should be sorry to be uncomplimentary to my fore- fathers," said Mr. Bligh, with a smile, •• but for anything I know to the contrary, there may have been some scoun- drels amongst them. And I don't see anything fantastic or fanciful in stating an undeniable fact. You haven't bred as many horses as I have, still you are not ignorant about the subject, and I believe you have bred dogs. You know as well as I do what an important part heredi- tary tendency plays in that matter, and how often it crops up in an individual after lying dormant for generations." ♦♦ We're not talking of horses and dogs," returned Mr. Lowndes, " we're talking of a human being, with a soul and a conscience and a free will. We all of us have our besetting sins, I suppose — though I'm sure I don't know what yours can be — but our business is to conquer them, and if we fail we deserve to suffer for our cowardice. MISADYBNTURK. Suppose I have inherited a tendency to some disease — gout, for instance — am I to shrug my shoulders and give in, instead of taking measures to counteract it ? " " Judging by my own experience, I should be inclined to back the disease," said the other. " And then you must allow that we don't all start at even weights." ♦• Oh, well," said the Rector, a little impatiently — for he was vexed with himself for having made use of an illustration which sounded somewhat unfeeling under the circumstances — " we needn't argue the point, because I am sure that we don't really differ. Excuses, no doubt, can be made for everybcdy, and let us hope that eventu- ally they will be made. Meanwhile, with our imperfect knowledge of things, we are obliged to judge by what is apparent ; and as for Morton — well, I will only say, as I said before, that I wish you wouldn't have him down here. He has refused scores of times when you have asked him ; why should you accept his proposal now, when you are ill and when the sight of him is quite enough to make you worse ? " " Oh, I don't think the sight of him will produce that effect upon me," said Mr. Bligh, quietly. "I do, then ; I have known you too long, my dear Bligh, to be taken in by your affectation of stoicism. In all my life I have never met a man who bore pain better or who felt it more. Morton will give you pain every time he opens his lips — you know he will. What's more, he will try to give you pain." " Perhaps not. I imagine his object in paying us this visit is quite the reverse of that." " What is his object ? " inquired the Rector, who, how- ever, could have answered his own question easily enough. Mr. Bligh laughed. " After all," he said, " it is only what you and I should do under similar circumstances. Given a dying father, who has absolute control over the disposal of his property, shouldn't we think it our duty to seek him out and express to him a sincere regret for any little differences which might have arisen between us and him ? " " No," answered the Rector, stoutly ; '* neither you nor I would stoop to such meanness, Besides, you are not dying." 8 MISA1»V£.N'1UU£. '* So the doctors are kind enough to assure me. The) say that I may live for a great many more years : but they think It will be a very strange thing if I do. Doctors, of course, can't tell the real truth, but there is no reason that I know of why patients shouldn't, when they happen to be aware of it. The real truth is always bracing and invigor- ating, though I admit that it often looks rather ugly from a distance ; and the truth, I take it, is that Morton is comin;^' because he has heard that his cousin Archie is here, and because that has very naturally alarmed him." Mr. LoWndes had a pair of round, projecting, brown eyes, which now became rounder and projected them- selves somewhat more prominently than usual. *< Do you mean to say," he began, •' that you really propose — " " Oh no, I don't think it would be right or wise, or in any way desirable. All the same I wish Archie were my son. Even though he is younger than Morton, I might perhaps be justified in making an elder son of him in this case ; but nephews, I suppose, must be regarded as out of the question. What do you think of him ? " "I think he is a fine, manly young fellow: I always (lid think so, and soldiering has improved him immensely. Still, as you say, he is only your nephew. I should have thought — will you allo'v me to speak my mind pla nly to you. Bligh ? " '• Haven't I just told you that the unvarnished truth is full of fascination for me ? " "Well, then, I should have thought that if you con- sidered your son unworthy to succeed you — which he most undoubtedly is — you could have left this place to your daughter. I know you can provide for her amply without doing that, and I know that the management of a large property is a heavy burden to place on the shoulders of a young girl. Still, when one has to face two evils one can but choose tlie smaller ; and although Cicely is inex- ;> rienced, and a little headstrong at times, her heart is in the right place. And then she will marry. Surely it would be better for us all to have decent Christian people at the Priory than an avowed atheist." " Is Morton an avowed atheist ? " " If he isn't he ought to be. Holding the views that he does, and living the life that he lives, he has no business to call himself anything else." MISAOVBNTUIUB. , The> but they ctors, of son that »cn to be in vigor - y from a \ coming' ere, and I", brown d them- ' Do you II se, or in vera my I might n in this iA out of [ always mensefy. lid have a nly to }d truth rou con- 'hich he »lace to amply tent of a Loulders jvils one lis inex- irt is in It would at the {that he iusiness 1 " Ah, I think I remember that he once got the better of you in a theological discussion." " No, he didn't," returned the Rector, reddening' slightly, " he didn't get the better of me at all. Of course he asked me questions which I couldn't answer ; any Sun- day school child could do that — and indeed they often do. The times that I have been bothered with that tiresome old difficulty about the rainbow and its appearance in water- falls and fountains ! Why, only last week a wretched little whipj)er-snapi>er wanted me to explain how it was that Balaam showed so little surprise when his ass entered into conversation with him." *' I have always felt a good deal of curiosity upon that point myself," observed Mr. Bligh. '• What r^'H vou say ? " '* I said that Balaam was a prophet, th?it ) was ac- customed to supernatural manifestations, and > hat £lti in cident of that kind wouldn't be at all lik \y^ U astoni .h him. Then, if you please, my young geiuleman wanted to know wh rather the mouth and tongue of ah ordinary donkey were so formed that it would be po5; ible for it to pro-^Tice sounds resembling articulate speech. He didn't put it in those words, but that was the gist of his inquiries. Now I only mention this to show you how easy it is for a mere child to throw doubts upon the truth of the Scripture narrative." "I quite see that it is very easy indeed," replied Mr. Bligh, gravely ; ♦• but we are wandering away from our rival candidates. Not th:?t Archie is a conscious candi- date — at least I hope he isn't." " I am perfectly sure th?t no such notion has ever en- tered his head," cried the Rector, warmly. •* There is no occasion to be so sure as all that ; such a notion might have entered his head without disgracing either it or his heart. I only meant to say that I hoped for his sake that he didn't cherish expectations which are so very unlikely to be fulfilled." There was a pause of a '"aw moments, after which Mr. Bligh resumed : " It will be rather amusing to watch them." *• To watch whom ? " asked the Rector. " Archie and Morton. Of course they will fight ; Morton will take good care of that. But Morton never 10 MISADVENTURE. loses his temper, whereas Archie is decidedly peppery. I should say th?^ Archie would get the worst of it." '• I dont see what there will be amusing in that," grunted Mr. Lowndes, who was a very straightforward, matter-of-fact sort of person, and did not sympathise with all his friend's moods. " I wish you wouldn't say such things, Bligh. They sound — not to me, because I know you — but to other people they might sound a little bit malicious." " Cripples are always malicious," said Mr. Bligh ; •* they can't help it. So long as one lives one is bound to get some sort of fun out of existence ; and what sort of fun is there within the reach of a man who has lost the use of his legs, except studying his fellow-creatures and laughing in his sleeve at them ? I lie here on my back from morning to night and watch you — Cicely, and Archie, and the ser- vants, and the people who come to call, and your reverend and respected self. You have no idea how funny you all are." " Well, I'm glad that I'm not the only subject of ridi- cule, at all events," observed Mr. Lowndes, with a some- what dissatisfied look. •♦ What makes us so funny, if I may ask ? " ** You would have to break your back before you could understand ; and that perhaps is rather too long a price to pay for the privilege. I'm completely out of it, don't you see; I'm still alive, though I'm as good — or as bad — as dead ; and that gives me a fine sense of the triviality of everything that excites the rest of you. What does it all matter ? In quite a short time the whole generation of us will be wiped out and clean forgotten ; isn't it a little comical that we should make so much ado about nothing ?" This (as possibly it may have been intended to do) drew from the Rector an eloquent vindication of the seriousness of life and the far-reaching consequences cf every individual act. Furthermore, he thought fit to wind up with a final application of his remarks. "You have no right to say that you • are out of it,' Bligh : on the con- trary, very great power for good or for evil remains in your hands. The temporal, and for aught I know the eternal welfare of many people depends upon you, and you can't joke yourself free from your responsibilities. I tliink you I MISADVENTURE. 11 ery. 1 that," Drward, se with ly such I know ttle bit ; ♦' they I to get 5f fun is se of his ghing in [Horning the ser- everend ^ you all t of ridi- a some- if I may pu could price to n't you ad — as ality of it all n of us a little hing ?" to do) of the nces cf Itowind lave no le con- I in your eternal |u can't Ink you )es ought to bear that in mind and consider it carefully before you decide to nominate as your successor a man who will — who will — " " Who will play the deuce generally," suggested Mr. Bligh. •' Well, I'll consider it — and him too. He seems to have challenged consideration, so that he can't com- plain. Nevertheless, I doubt whether any conceivable ar- rangement that I could make would be wholly satisfac- tory." The Rector sighed and went sorrowfully away. He was very much afraid that his old friend's days were num- bered ; he was pretty sure that his old friend would not set established cur^tom aside in making his will, and he was quite convinced that infinite harm might be done in the parish of Abbotsport by such a Squire as Morton Bligh would be. " It's all very unfortunate," he muttered to himself as he mounted his brown cob — " ve^y unfortunate indeed ! " When he had ambled down the long, gently sloping approach, bordered on either side by rhododendrons, which were one of the chief glories of the Priory, and when he had passed through an iron gate, which separated lawns, shrubberies, and flower-beds from the park, he turned his horse off the road and cantered across the grass, until he reached a point from which he could look down upon the slate roofs of Abbotsport and the blue veil of smoke which hung motionless over them on that still afternoon of early spring. The little fishing village, over- hung by lofty chalk cliffs and protected both from easterly and westerly gales by sheltering promontories, had been made additionally safe and snug by a breakwater, con- structed some years hack at the expense of Mr. Bligh. The same munificent benefactor had supplied the inhabit- ants with the solid sciool-house, which Mr. Lowndes could descry, and had earned out a great many other works of public utility during his reigri. There had always been Blighs at the Priory, and they had always owned the whole of Abbotsport ; but they had been far less powerful, because far less wealthy, than the present holder of the estate, who, while still a young man, had inherited a large fortune from his mother's family. Tiat he had spent his income wisely and well could not be denied. He had 12 MISADVENTURE. found Abbotsport poverty-stricken, dirty, and over-popu- lated, and by dint of judicious expenditure, combined with some exercise of authority, which had been at first resented, but subsequently acquiesced in (because improved circumstances always promote a spirit of toleration), he had converted the community over which he ruled into a prosperous and contented one. He had been a benevolent despot, but, like other benevolent despots, he laboured under the disadvantage of being mortal; so that there could be no certainty of the work which he had inaug- urated being carried on. " Besides, I am not sure that he hasn't sapped their independence," mused the Rector, as he gazed down on the little fleet of fishing smacks, which were stealing in before a very light, southerly breeze. " They have got too much into the habit of looking to the Priory for help the moment that anything goes wrong, and it's precious little help they are likely to get from Morton Bligh. Cicely would take care that their wants were supplied, at any rate, though no doubt she would be injudicious, and she has inherited her lather's disinclination to be guided by advice. Still, she would be sure to marry before long ; and if she had a husband who was a decent fellow " — Mr. Lowndes i)aused for a moment in his meditation and tapped his boot pensively with the handle of his riding- whip. " Now, if Cicely would marry her cousin," he resumed presently, '• and I strongly suspect that her cousin wouldn't object to the arrangement — Good gracious, Archie, how you made me jump! You ought to know better than to play such tricks upon an old man whose reins are hanging loose. . It's lucky that- nothing ever startles the cob." The young man, who had playfully thrown a fir-cone at the Rector's broad back, laughed and said : " The cob's ears are quicker than yours, Mr. Lowndes ; he knew I was behind you two or three minutes ago." This young man, who was tall, spare, and broad- shouldered, and had a slight, fair moustache, with an up- ward twist to it, bore the marks of his profession as plainly as if he had been dressed in full cavalry uniform. With- out being exactly good-looking, he possessed the beauty which belongs to youth and physical vigour, and he had a MISADVENTURE. 18 ' : I pleasant, smart, sunburnt appearance. Also his blue eyes seemed to belong to an honest mortal. *' What were yoii dreaming about ? " he asked. •♦ About the future fate of that intemperate flock of yours ? " " Well, yes," answered the Rector : '* I was thinking about their future, poor fellows 1 Not that they are so very intemperate, except now and then, when they have had a great catch of fish, and even at such times they are a good deal better than they used to be. Nevertheless, I sometimes feel anxious about them. I've just seen your uncle, and he tells me that Morton is expected at the Priory this evening." «♦ Yes, I believe so ; it's rather a bore. I don't know much about him, but I've always understood that he is an awful blackguard." ♦• He isn't so much that — at least not in the way that you probably mean. There's always hope for the sort of man whom you would call an awful blackguard." '• Oh ! And isn't there any hope for Morton ? " The Rector shook his head. *' I'll tell you what Morton is," said he; "he's a thoroughly bad-hearted fellow. You may have heard stories about him. I don't want to enter upon them, and indeed they are stories of a sort which you young fellows don't generally mention before parsons. It woiUd be very wrong of me and quite against my duty and my conscience to make light of sin of any kind ; yet there is a difference, you know. A man may be chivalrous in spite of his wickedness. It isn't very long since Sir James Hannen addressed Morton Bligh from the Bench in words which — which, upon my honour, 1 think I would rather have been hanged than have heard addressed to me. But I don't believe he cared." •* Everybody said he behaved thundering badly," observed the young man. " I was in India at the time, you know ; so I only heard about it through the news- papers. Was that why uncle Wilfrid quarrelled with him ? " " Oh, there wasn't any quarrel. Your uncle never quarrels ; and if he had meant to wash his hands of Morton, as most fathers would have done, he might have found ample excuse for that years ago. I don't mind tell- in,'' vou that that is what I should have done. As a 14 MISADVENTURE. general principle, I am opposed to placing women in posi- tions of authority, but supposing I had to choose between Cicely and Morton, my choice would be very soon made." " Only Cicely will marry some day, I suppose." " Yes ; but when she does, her husband won't have things all his own way. That fortunate fellow — because he will be a very fortunate fellow — may as well make up his mind to accept the part of a prince-consort." The Rector looked rather hard at his companion, who gazed imperturbably out to sea, and then he added, witii an abrupt chuckle : '* Put that in your pipe and smoke it, young man." CHAPTER II. MISS BLIGK. The young lady who Mr. Lowndes had quite accur- ately described as possessing a strong will of her own was, at the time when she was being thus criticised, discharg- ing one of tlie duties incident to her station in life, by visiting the poor. There were always plenty of poor people in the village of Abbotsport, which, being situated at a distance of three miles (and mostly up-hill uiiles) from the nearest railway station, could not dispose of its fish with the ease and profit enjoyed by some of its neigh- bours on the south coast. However, they were none of them df;stitute, nor m any danger of becoming so, because they had Miss Cicely Bligh, as well as her father, to look after them. Whenever Miss Cicely walked down to the village (and that was three or four times a wetk on an average) she carried on her arm a basket, which was heavy on leaving the Priory and light on its return. For this reason she was always a welcome visitor ; and if her instructions and rebukes were rather more peremptory than some folks thought becoming in one so young, yet ihey were magnanimous enough to pardon her in con- sideration of her pretty face and her kind heart, and smiled with good-humoured toleration, when her back was turned, at her mania for cleanliness, her determination that ev! ;•• '>o<1\' -hoiild ?o to church once a week, and all MISADVENTtTRBi 16 her other little fads and fancies. In reality, the house- wives of Abbotsport were mortally afraid of her, though they would have died rather than admit such a thing. It mattered very little to Cicely whether they admitted or denied a circumstance of which she was fully aware. She knew that she could always carry her point, what- ever it might be, and the only thing she regretted was that people should ever waste time by arguing with her, when it would have been so much more simple and sensible to give in at once. To be sure she shared the inestimable boon, with which Abbotsport at large was blessed, of being seldom pressed for time. On this particular after- noon she had gone her rounds and had administered her charities, together with a few necessary scoldings, as usual, and now she thought she would stroll down to the harbour and see the trawlers come in. So she made her way along the steep streets to the v/ater side — a natty, well-proportioneo, and very upright little figure, with her long sable boa flung back over her shoulders and her empty basket swinging. Cicely Bligh had the family features, which were such as the family had no reason to complain of. Her nose was slightly acquiline ; but it was such a diminutive specimen of that class that no one with the slightest sense of the fit- ness of terms would have dared to call it a hook. Her upper lip, which was very short, had an outward curve ; the lower one was somewhat full ; her chin was perfectly rounded, without 1 eingtoo prominent, her dark eyebrows were straight, and from beneath them there looked forth a pair of large, steadfast, grey eyes, for the discomfiture of evil-doers and the sad undoing of susceptible young men. She was, beyond all reach of rivalry, the beauty of the county ; and how could she help knowing it when she had been told as much such a number of times ? She did not, however, value herself so much upon her good looks — which were hers by clear right of inheritance, and there- fore not worth boasting about — as upon her strict integrity of purpose, and her truly remarkable accuracy of jud^mient. To these fine qualities she flattered herself that her claim was undisputed ; and so, in truth, it was, because nobody wanted to dispute it with her. From her father — the only human being to whom she owed or owned allegiance — she 1ft MISADVENTURE. met with little or no opposition, her views and tastes be- ing fortunately very much the same as his own. Illness had of late so incapacitated him that he had been com- pelled to manage a great part of his affairs vicariously, and from being his delegate his daughter had insensibly become his substitute. As for her aunt, Miss Skipwith, who had been asked to stay a few weeks at the Priory soon after Mrs. Bligh's death, and who had remained there for fifteen years, Cicely had never been told to regard that lady as placed in authority over her, and had never dreamt of doing so. Thus she was about as independent as a young woman can be ; and perhaps rather more so than it is good for any young woman to be, seeing that the abso- lute equaHty of the sexes has not yet been admitted, even in the most progressive countries. The trawlers, of which Abbotsport boasted but four, had already entered the harbour when she reached it, and a knot of more or less interested persons had collected on the pier, to watch them discharge their load of fish and to help in carting it away. This was a somewhat lengthy operation — because, as has been mentioned, Ab otsport disdained hurry — but Cicely waited patiently until it was almost completed, when she caught sight of a weather- beaten, grey-bearded man, who touched the brim of his sou'-wester to her with a slightly deprecating air. " Coppard," said she, fixing her eyes upon him severely, *' I am surprised to see you going out with the trawlers among these boys. I should have thought you might have found some better employment than that." •' You're right there, Miss," answered the man, " as you mostly are. Come to my time o' life, better employment I ought to have, and that's Gospel truth. But food must be purvided for the young 'uns somf. way or other, and times is terrible bad just now." " Times are bad with you, you mean," interrupted Cicely, '• and no wonder 1 I didn't see you at church on Sunday, Coppard." " You did net, Miss," replied Mr. Coppard with a great show of straightforward candour. •' You did not ree me, for the reason that I were not there. I were very porely o' Sunday and compelled for to keep my bed." •' You couldn't expect to be anything else after having been disgracefully intoxicated all Saturday." MISADVENTtmit. 17 astes be- Illness sen com- usly, and y become who had Don after :here for :ard that tr dreamt ent as a ; so than the abso- ted, even hut four, it, and a ected on ;h and to lengthy ) otsport il it was weather- m of his severely, trawlers ght have " as you )yment I must be id times irrupted urch on 1 a great ree me, r porely ■ having " What ? — me, Miss ? " cried Mr. Coppard in extreme astonishment. *' Me disgracefully intox — well, I never I Who could ha' been and told you such a thing as that about me in my habsence ? " *' The same person who told me that you had sold your share in the Rover and spent all the money. It really is too bad, Coppard." •* So 'tis, Miss ; and a great refreshment it has been to me to get two nights at sea beyond reach o' that there woman's tongue. * Spent all the money,' says she ! And her with a new gownd to her back — as you might ha' noticed o' Sunday, Miss, and did notice, I make no doubt. But she's well known far and wide for what she is, and I there ain't a six year old child in Abbotsport as pays any manner o' heed to her talk." *• When I have seen that new gown I shall believe that poor Mrs. Coppard got it from you," observed Miss Bligh, placidly. " I am afraid it is useless to remonstrate with you, and certainly it is quite useless to help you. I am very sorry now that I asked my father to buy a share in the Rover for you." " Now don't 'ee say that, Miss. Squire, he hacted for the best — likewise yourself; but as for getting a living out of part share in a hopen boat, faint to be thought of. Miss ; and what I do I do for the sake of my family, as should be more grateful to me." *• I really think there is something in that. Miss Bligh," chimed in a gentle and deferential voice from the back- ground. •* A man must catch a great many dabs and congers before he can expect to get a fair day's wages for a fair day's work." Cicely whisked around sharply, and was thus brought face to face with a young man in a blue serge suit, who took off his cap to her. He was a young man of some- thing under middle height, square-built, clean-shaven, and fresh-complexioned. He w^as as evidently a sailor as Archie Bligh was a soldier, and if a little less smart-look- ing than that gentleman was certainly handsomer, his features being quite classic in their regularity, and his big brov/n eyes almost as expressive as a dog's. Cicely held out her hand to him with a little air of condescension and patronage. •• Oh, how do you do, Bobby ? " said she. " Have you been out with the trkwlers ? " ■''*»■ ■ 18 MISADVENTURE. i( That he has, Miss, " answered Coppard, who perhaps was not unwilling to bring about a change of subject ; "and though I don't care to flatter no one, I will say there's not a many officers in Her Majesty's Navy as can sail a boat like Captain Dare." " Not Captain Dare, surely," said Cicely, " I know you are no longer a midshipman, Bobby, but I didn't know you had jumped up quite so high as that." *' Sub-lieutenant," answered the individual entitled to that rank, modestly. Then he added in an apologetic tone, " I can't be so near blue water without wanting to be upon it ; so as these fellows offered to take me trawling with them, I thought I would go and see what it was like. We've had good luck and fine weather, I am glad to say ; but it must be a hard life in the winter-time." Bobby Dare was one of the many sons of Sir George Dare, who shared with Mr. Bligh the pre-eminence in the southern county where the properties of both of them were situated. Cicely had known Bobby ail her life, and was well aware that he had humbly adored her from his in- fancy. She said : *' I don't think I should much care to spend a night on board a trawler. How did you manage about washing and dressing in the morning ? " ** Well, I jumped overboard and had a swim," said the young man. " Do I look very grubby ? " Cicely took a calm and deliberate survey of him from head to foot. '* Not more so than might have been ex- pected," she replied, at length. "And so Coppard has been talking you over ? I daresay he would find it easy enough to do that." The young sailor laughed, pushed his cap to the back of his head and glanced over his shoulder. Peiceiving that Coppard had judiciously effected a movement of re- treat he said , " I confess that I have a sneaking affection for that old rascal. I suppose he gets drunk now and then, like the rest of them, and i know he's an arrant poacher ; but for all that he's a fine seaman. So are most of these fellows, for that matter. Oh, dear ! what a pity it is that press-gangs have been done away with ! " "If you could kidnap our fishermen they would be very much thrown away in the navy, I think," Cicely de- clared. " What is the use of fine seamanship on board one i I MISADVENTURE. 19 ) perhaps subject ; will say ry as can • I know I didn't n tit led to pologetic anting to J trawling was like, d to say ; ir George ice in the hem were , and was im his in- :h care to u manage " said the liim from been ex- jpard has d it easy the back eiceiving ent of re- affection and then, poacher ; t of these it is that would be Cicely de- board one of those hideous iron hulks that you call men-of-war ? Be- sides, you never have any fightin^Lj to do." •♦ Perhaps, we shall, though, one of these days," re- turned Mr. Dare, hopefully. " Even as it is, we often have to help the soldiers out ashore." " In skirmishes with savages, you mean ? But isn't that rather poor fun ? You see, you are quite certain of being able to beat them, with the weapons that you have. If I were a man I would much rather be in the cavalry, like Archie," said Cicely, to provoke him. But Bobby was of far too simple and modest a nature to be irritated by such malicious attacks. " It is a matter of taste," said he. " We can't be all in the cavalry, and I shouldn't have done for it even if the governor could have stood the expense, because I never could make head or tail of a horse. But I dare say I shall do my duty as well as Archie when the time comes. At least I hope so." " Of course you will do it a great deal better, you dear, stupid old Bobby 1 " said Miss Bligh, who always chose to talk to this neighbour of hers as though he had been much younger than herself. " You belong to the class out of which heroes are made, and will certainly end your career as an Admiral of the Fleet and a G.C.B., if only we give you the chance of distinguishing yourself by fighting the French or the Russians or somebody. Arciiic- isn't that sort of a person at all. One can't fancy Archie flourish- ing a Field Marshal's baton, and I'm sure he doesn't want such a thing." A slight flush of pleasure had overspread Mr. Dare's cheeks when he heard himself described as a potential hero, but he did not appear to be altogether satisfied with Cicely's criticisms upon her cousin. "You must like him very much or you wouldn't run him down," was his comment upon them. " What do you mean ? " asked the girl with a wonder- ing look. •' Only that I think you often run down the people whom you care for. You don't mind giving a little pat on the back to the others — such as myself." " You are rather rude, and rather ungrateful," Cicely remarked. "I am not at all in the habit of running any- IkllSADVENTURE. body down, except, just occasionally, a few persons who deserve it ; but 1 certainly do like Archie very much. Have you any objections to my liking him ? " Bobby did object very strongly to her entertaining anything beyond a sisterly affection for her cous.n. But he could hardly say so without proceeding to furtlier state- ments which he was not prepared to make on the spur of the moment ; so he only said, rather despondingly, " Archie is the sort of fellow whom everybody is bound to like." " Aunt Susan doesn't," said Cicely, laughing ; '♦ she calls him a ' designing young man.' " •* Oh — Miss Skipwith ! But then she hardly counts, does she ? I mean, of course, she is a good old thing and all that, only nobody pays much attention to her." *' No, nobody pays much attention to her," agreed Cicely, in a somewhat grave voice. During the above conversation they had been moving slowly away from the quay, and were now mounting the steep street which led in the direction of the Priory. It did not lead toward Instowe, were Sir George Dare lived ; but perhaps Bobby was not eager to take the shortest way home. " Why does she call Archie designing ? " he askeil presently. " Oh, I suppose she thinks that my father will make him his heir instead of Morton. One can't wonder at her thinking so. My father won't do it, but it is what a great many people would do." After this there was silence for some minutes. Then Bobby said, '* My sisters told me that your brother was ex- pected down here. Is that true ? " •' Yes ; he wrote to propose it himself, and he is to ar- rive this evening. Probably he has the same idea as Aunt Susan and thinks it is time to bestir himself." After a pause the girl resumed : " I don't feel as if he were my brother at all. I have only seen him twice in my life, and I didn't like him. Is it wrong, I wonder, to dislike one's brother when he is so very disagreeable ? " '• It can't be wrong, or you wouldn't do it," answered Bobby, with conspicuous imbecility. " Besides," he con- tinued, " I never met anyone who didn't hate Morton. It is just like him to make up to poor Mr. Bligh at the last, after turning his back upon him all these years." MISADVENTURE. irsons who -ery much. ntertaininfc lus.n. But rther state- the spur of [y, " Archie :o hke." ; "she calls dly counts, I thing and ar. ;r," agreed ;en moving mnting the Priory. It Dare lived ; lortest way he asked will make nder at her hat a great tes. Then her was ex- he is to ar- lea as Aunt After a le were my ny life, and islike one's * answered :s,'' he con- lorton. It at the last, Now this was a perfectly true and justifiable speecli but the effect of it upon Cicely was not qiiite what tin speaker could have wished. " What do you mean by ' th( last ? " she exclaimed, turning upon him anj^rily. •' It i.s abominable of you to say such things ! I dun'l mind the people in the village, because it is their way of showing' : ympathy, and when they are in the least ill they always think they must be going to die ; but you have no right to be so stupid, and so — so brutal. You must know perfectl\ well that my father is not a bit wot:e than he was a year ago. Don't you know it ? " Bobby might have replied that be had been afloat a year ago, and consequently had not seen Mr. Bligh at thc- time referred to ; also, if he had been strictly honest he would have had to say that he thought Mr. Bligh very 11! indeed. But he did neither of these things ; he only stani- iiu.red out in accents of deep contrition, •• Oh, I beg youi pardon : I'm awfully sorry , I didn't think of what I was saying. I — I daresay he isn't nearly as bad as he looks.' ♦• Well," said Cicely, more calmly, " you know nothin- at all about it ; that's one comfort. The truth is that his fifeneral health is perfectly good ; and although he ma\ never be able to walk again " (here Cicely's eyes suddenly filled with tears and her voice trembled) " there is nothing - -nothing at all in his present condition to make u^ feel alarmed about him. I have Sir Peter Parson's authority for saying so, and I suppose you will admit that Sir Peter understands his business." Bobby hastened to declare that he never for a moment thought of setting up his opinion against that of the emi- nent physician in question. Indeed he was certain that Sir Peter must be right. Still, of course, Morton might think differently. This explanation having been more or less graciously accepted, he felt encouraged to ksk whether Miss Bligh wouldn't like to come out fishing some day. Coppard, he said, had assured him that there was plenty of pollock in the bay, and sometimes one could have a lot of fun with a big conger. '* And if its necessary for you to have a chaperon," he added, a little reluctantly, " perhaps Miss Skipwith would come." At thk- CJceiy burst out laughing. ♦• I really believe r 22 MISADVENTURE. Aunt Susan would rather get on the back of a horse than trust herself in a boat," said she. '• I'll go out fishing with you some day, Bobbie, and I daresay I may bring Archie with me if he cares to come. I certainly shan't require a chaperon to look after me in the company of my own cousin and a !)oy like you. Now I have taken you quite far enough out of your way. Good night." Sub-lieutenant Dare, who was two and twenty years of age, did not quite relish being called a boy, but it was something to have obtained Cicely's assent to his modest proposition, and it was something to know that MissSkip- with might be dispensed with. As for Archie, perhaps he wouldn't want to come. "And perhaps if he does come he'll be sick," thought the young sailor. It is thus that love, which is in itself so pure and beauti- ful a sentiment, is wont to inspire even the most generous minds with ignoble desires. w 1 CHAPTER III. THE HEIR-APPARENT. All his life long Archie Bligh had been practically his own master. It is a fate which is usually considered to be undesirable for the young ; yet it has its alleviations, and Archie, for his part, had never felt disposed to repine at it. Of his father he had no recollection at all ; his mother, who had idolised him and done her best to spoil him (but had not succeeded), had died while he was still at Sand- hurst ; and as his Uncle Wilfred thus became his nearest relation, it was natural that he should have spent at the Priory such holiday time as remained to him before he was gazetted to the 24th Lancers. The Priory, indeed, had always been a sort of second home to him, so that when, after an absence of three years in India, he returned with his regiment to his native shores, the first use that he made of his leave was, of course, to betake himself to Abbotsport. Perhaps it was almost equally a matter of course that the first thing he did upon arriving there was to fall ovrr head and ears in love with Cicelv ; for there MISADVENTURE. 1K3 orse than hing with rchiewith chaperon iin and a lough out ^ years of lit it was s modest liss Skip- jrhaps he oes come id beauti- generous cally his ed to be ons, and epine at mother, lim (but Lt Sand- nearest t at the ifore he indeed, so that eturned ise that Tiself to atter of ere was )r there \ was scarcely a young man within a twenty-mile radius of that enchantress's abode who was not in the same sad case. Archie, to be sure, niip^ht have remained exempt, seeing that Cicely and he had been companions as chil- dren, and tliat he had not been at all in love with her then ; but that was because his youthful affections had been given to the eldest Miss Dare, who was now ap- proaching her thirtieth year and had never been remark- able for personal beauty. One cannot be a dashing young cavalry officer and possess a snug little fortune of one's own without having l)een made the object of flattering attentions on the part of the ladies who frequent garrison towns. Archie, there- fore, knew something of women, and thought that he knew a great deal. And this rendered him low-spirited ; tor his experier'^.e convinced him that Cicely had by no means fallen i a'-tim to his attractions. She did not even seem to be aware that he had fallen a victim to hers ; although he had done his best to place that fact outside the range of scepticism. She made no stranger of him ; she treated him very much as if he had been her brother — not to say her younger brother — she did not exert her- self to entertain him, and took it for granted that he could amuse himself in his own way without her help. That very afternoon, when he had offered to accompany her to the village, she had laughed in his face, remarking, " I don't think you could visit any of my poor people without longing to be rid of me, and I am sure I couldn't visit any of them without longing to be rid of you." So he had been reduced to the necessity of taking a solitary walk into the country, which is a very dismal way of spending an afternoon. After his meeting with Mr. Lowndes, he sauntered down the hill towards Abbotsport, and in due course of time his hopes were fulfilled by the appearance of his cousin, who greeted him from afar with a wave of her empty basket. " Am I late for dinner ? " she asked, when he quick- ened his pace and joined her. •' Did they send you to look for me ? " •' Oh dear, no," said Archie, consulting liis watch, " there's heaps of time before dinner ; I did come to look lor you, but that was on my own hook, and because 1 y 24 MISADVKNTURE. thought that perhaps, if I had the luck to meet you, you would let me walk home with you. What a long after- noon this has been ! " •• Poor fellow 1 " exclaimed Cicely, with half-ironical compassion ; " I suppose it must be desperately slow for you down here. What have you been doing with yourself since luncheon ? " " Nothmg, in the fullest sense of the word. And what have you been doing ? — if I may ask." •' Well, I have distributed jellies and bunches of grapes to sick people, and I have listened to the domestic v/oes of Mrs. Coppard, and I have seen the trawlers come in, and I have administered a well-deserved scoldmg to Coppard, and I have had an interview with Bobby Dare, who, by the way, had returned from a two days' cruise with the fishermen. Just imagine sleeping on board a trawler for pleasure I Why is it that sailors always want to be at sea when they are ashore, and that soldiers hate nothing so much as the sight of a x^A coat when they are on leave ? " " Because sailors are usually men of one idea," said Archie, promptly. " Other people liihS to have a change occasionally." " And you are beginning to think that you would like a change now, I daresay. I don ■ wonder at it ; only self- ishly speaking, I wish you could bring yourself to stay here until Morton takes his departure. I don't want to have Morton left upon my hands. I don't understand him, and, what is more, I'm afraid of him." " I don't believe you're afraid of anybody or anything in the world," returned her cousin ; " but of course I shall be only too glad to stay here until I'm turned out, and I'll do my best to be civil to your brother." " Will you ? " asked the girl, rather eagerly ; '* I hope you will. He will certainly try to provoke you, but if you will bear in mind that that is what he wants, and if you will decline to be provoked, you will not only disappoint him, but make things much smoother for the rest of us." " Oh, I'll keep my temper," said Archie, with a laugh. " He seems to be an amiable sort of a chap. Why should he want to provoke me ? " Cicely looked at him with a somewhat pitying smile. The reason was so obvious that he might surely have MISADVKNTURB. you, you Dng after- ilf-ironical y slow for h yourself And what 5 of grapes :ic v/oes of Tie iri; and f Coppard, e, who, by • with the Lrawler for be at sea lothing so •n leave ? '* idea," said a change ould like a only self- If to stay want to nderstand anything rse I shall t, and I'll " I hope but if you id if you isappoint ofus." a laugh, hy should ng smile, rely have divined it. However, she liked him none the less for his obtuseness, and only said: "Morton isn't amiable; he tries to provoke most people. He used to succeed with me ; but I don't mean him to succeed again, and I hope he won't with you." " Do ' he succeed with Dare ? " asked Archie after a pause. " I don't think he has ever had the chance, but any- how he wouldn't be likely to consider poor Bobby worth powder and shot." The slightly contemptuous tone in which this opinion was enunciated reassured Archie upon a point as to which he had begun to feel certain misgivings, and when he parted from his cousin and went upstairs to dress for dmner, he telt in a sufficiently good humour to face any number of disagreeable strangers. The Priory, as regarded a large portion of its outer walls, was an ancient structure ; but it had been con- stantly added to by its present owner, while the interior had been so thoroughly restored, re-modelled, and re-dec- orated that it was to almost all intents and purposes modern. Many people, cf course, thought this a pity, and said so ; but then, as Mr. Bligh was wont to remark, in answer to these criticisms, they had not been called upon to live in the old house. He and his architect had done their best with the materials at their command. The fine old entrance hall and the broad oak staircase had been left intact, and dark corridors, broken by unexpected [steps, still atToided a somewhat dangerous channel of j communication with the bedrooms; but, since it had been I found impossible to retain the distinctive character of the i building in the living-rooms, all attempts to reconcile mediaevalism with modern requirements had been aban- jdoned there, and the library, to which Archie betook him- self in the course of half an hour, was, as the critics com- I plained, "utterly characterless." It was, however, spaci- I ous, cheerful, and sunny, when there was any sun to shine. It was in this room that Mr. Bligh now spent nearly the whole of the day, and here Archie found him, resting [in his wheeled chair by the bay window, and with a slightly troubled look upon his usually placid face. Be- side him sat his sister-in-law, Miss Skipwith, whose face 26 MISADVENTURE. was seldom placid, and now displayed signs of unwonted agitation and excitement. " I can't think it wise, Wilfrid," she was saying, as Archie entered. There were a good many things and there were two people at the Priory which and whom Miss Skipwith could not think wise. She was a thin, anxious, nervous little woman, with fluffy flaxen hair, which was turning grey, and prominent pale blue eyes. She was very much in awe of Mr. Bligh, although she had a poor opinion of iiis sagacity, and she worshipped her niece, of whose manners and customs she strongly disapproved. Her whole life was a rnild protest, which those who lived under the same roof with her accepted smilingly and never thought of resenting. " Who has been making a fool of himself now, Miss Skipwith ? " inquired Archie. Miss Skipwith, who had never had any great affection for this young man, and thoupht him disposed to be impertinent, drew herself up, compressed her lips, and made no reply ; but Mr. Bligh said : " Oh, you'll see presently, and I daresay you will agree with Susan. Nevertheless, I might have made an even greater fool of myself if I had refused to receive my only son. The most foolish thing that anybody can do is to put himself gratuitously in the wrong. Perhaps, if sufficient oppor- tunity is given to him, Morton may do that, and then Susan will think better of me. Doesn't that strike you as a wise way of looking at things ? " Archie was fond of his uncle, because the latter had always been kind to him and had been a good sportsman in bygone days ; but he was not fond of irony, which he would probably have defined as a needless and irritating habit of saying what you didn't mean. •' I don't know anything at all about it," he answered rather curtly. At this moment the door opened and Cicely and her brother entered the room together. There was a strong family resemblance between them ; but this resemblance, as the most careless observer must have noticed at a glance, was only skin deep. Morton Bligh had been a very hand- some man, and was so still, despite his waxy, unhealthy complexion, and the grey threads in his dark hair. Like his sister he was small, well-proportioned, and had deli- n is MISADVENTURE. 27 unwonted I, Wilfrid," were two Skipwith IS, nervous as turning very much opinion of , of whose >ved. Her who Hved lingly and now, Miss at affection Dsed to be r lips, and you'll see ith Susan, ater fool of son. The jut himself ient oppor- and then rike you as latter had sportsman which he irritating on't know Lirtly. ly and her IS a strong semblance, at a glance, very hand- unhealthy lair. Like had deli- cately moulded features ; but his eyes and mouth differed greatly from hers, the former being narrow, glittering and too close together, while his lips were thin and had ac- quired an habitually smiling set which had no suggestion of mirth about it. ** I don't think you have ever met your cousin Archie before, Morton," said Mr. Bligh. '• Don't remember to have had that pleasure," an- swered the new comer, holding out a limp, white hand. " Been in India, haven't you ? or somewhere. I forget whether you're a plunger or a gunner." Archie explained good-humouredly that he was neither the one nor the other, and mentioned the distinguished corps to which he had the honour to belong. ♦' Oh, ah ! — the 24th Lancers, of course," said the other. " Beg your pardon, I'm sure. I suppose a Lancer doesn't^ Hke being called a plunger, does he ? " ♦• That entirely depends upon who calls him so," said Archie. " Really ? Well, I hope you mean that you don't mind my having called you so. The fact is that I know very little about soldiers ; though I believe I was once in the Yeomanry myself. I joined the Yeomanry to please you^ you know," he added, turning to his father. " And retired to please yourself," returned Mr. Bligh. " Exactly so. I'm too much given to pleasing myself; but it's never too late to mend, and I'm going to turn over a new leaf now. The fact of my being where I am at this moment is a pretty convincing proof of that." " You don't flatter us," said Miss Skipwith, drily. " My dear Aunt Susan, I'm incapable of it ; I don't know how to flatter people, and it has been a great disad- vantage to me through life. Besides, you would never have believed me if I had told you I came here for the pleasure of seeing you all." Mr. Bligh laughed a little at this, but the other three persons present remained grave and felt the announce- ment of dinner to be a relief. Morton, however, did not seem to consider a change of subject obligatory or desir- able. While he was eating his soup he explained that much as he hated the country he had thought it best to familiarise himself with it, and with the management of a n '4 MISADVBNTUBK. property which in the natural course of things must shortly be his. " One may not be enamoured of one's station in life/' said he, " still as one can't escape from it, the only plan is to endeavour to fit oneself for it." Cicely reddened with suppressed anger; Archie was greatly shocked and scandalised ; and Miss Skipwith, in a high tremulous voice, began to talk about the danger that was sure to be done to the fruit-blossoms by the late frosts. But Mr. Bligh appeared to be much more tickled than annoyed at the calmness with which his approaching demise was counted upon. Morton was in many respects ■i queer, distorted reproduction of himself, and he recog- nised this with some inward amusement. He himself had always had a great love for truth, and a great contempt for the phrases in which it is customary to wrap up truth ; only as he was courteous and kind-hearted, he could not ' have expressed himself as Morton did. That his son did not love him he was perfectly aware, and that his son should make no secret of the fact scarcely disturbed him. What, perhaps, he did not quite realise was that his son was a very clever fellow. That was certainly not the opinion formed of him by Archie, who thought he had never met such a brute in his life. Archie, as has been said, was accustomed to look upon the Priory as his home, and had some right to do so, whereas Morton had not been near the place for many years. It was, therefore, not a little exasperating to the former to be treated by the latter as a guest. After Miss Skipwith and Cicely had left the dining-room, Morton (who was rapidly disposing of a decanter of port) urged him to have another glass of claret, begged him to smoke if he felt inclined, and apologised for the dulness of Abbots- port, where, he said, one really had no business to ask a man to stay at that season of the year. Mindful of the promise that he had made, Archie kept his temper and re- sponded civilly ; but Morton's whole demeanour made his blood boil, and later in the evening he confided to Cicely that if that fellow meant staying, he was afraid he would have to go. " I thought you would," remarked the girl, rather sadly ; " I'm not at all surprised at it." ♦' I won't go if you would rather I didn't," said Archie, brightening up a little. 1 1 i( i V 1 ■i tl 1 d ^ ir i (< i at 1 af :| w 1 de 1 m ■1 Ai i lui 1 he 1 ck MISADVENTURK. ist shortly station in , the only rchie was cipwith, in he danger by the late ore tickled )proaching ly respects i he recog- limself had t contempt p up truth ; could not his son did lat his son :urbed him. hat his son 1 of him by Drute in his led to look ht to do so, ; for many ting to the After Miss m, Morton ort) urged to smoke of Abbots- ;ss to ask a idful of the per and re- r made his to Cicely he would [ther sadly ; laid Archie, *' Well, I told ]^u that I didn't want to hare Morton left on my hands ; and I told you that he would try to pro- voke you. Can't you manage to despise him ? " " Oh, yes, I think I can manage that much," replied the young man, with a short laugh. " I mean can't you manage not to care what he says or does ? My father isn't angry, you see; yet he has rather more reason to be angry, perhaps, than you have." " I'll try to imitate him," answered Archie, sighing. '• It isn't going to be easy, though, I can see." He was young and peppery, while his uncle was old and philosophical, sick and weary. Moreover, his uncle, after all, was master of the house and of the situation, which made a difference. One may put up with a good deal of insolence and bad temper from a man whom it is in one's power to disinherit at any moment. Still, Archie was resolved to exercise self-control, and his reso- lution was put to a tolerably severe test when Morton and he had adjourned to the smoking-room. '• Cicely," observed Morton, after offering his cousin a cigar, ** has grown up into a devilish good-looking girl. I suppose one will have to find a husband for her soon." •' I should think she would choose for herself," said Archie shortly. ♦♦ Well, it will save trouble if she does — supposing she makes a reasonable choice, that is. But she strikes me as a rather unreasonable sort of a young woman. Added to which, there's nobody for her to choose down here. A season in London might open her eyes a little." " In what way ? " inquired Archie. " Oh, I don't say that it would make a reasonable being of her : there are so few reasonable beings about. But it would probably enlighten her as to her own market value, which is really a good bit above the average. You may depend upon it that the governor won't leave her a penny less than ;£'30,ooo." " Oh, that is her market value, is it ? " said Archie. " Fortunately, she is not likely to ofTer herself for sale." ; Morton screwed up his eyes and laughed unpleasanliy. i " You think she will marry for love, then ? " said he. { " Yes, that is what I think, certainly." " We must try to save her from making such an idiot ss 30 MtSADVKNTtrftE. of herself. Love is delightful ; nobody has been more often in love than I have, and nobody appreciates the emotion more thoroughly. But then I have never made the mis- take of imagining that it could last more than two years at the very outside. Marriage is an another affair altogether ; marriage is essentially a bargain, and women are very well aware of that." " You speak as though all women were alike." '* So they are, my dear fellow. The popular belief is that there is a great gulf fixed between good and bad women ; but that's nonsense. They differ in their talk, but they no more differ in their actions than men do." " I should have said that men differed a good deal in their actions," observed Archie. "That's all because circumstances vary; it isn't hct- cause human nature varies. It wouldn't occur to yon to steal a leg of mutton ; but you would a great deal rather steal a leg of mutton than be hungry. We're all tarred with the same brush ; only it isn't supposed to be the proper thing to say so." *' I don't know how that may be," said Archie, " but 1 know that if I had a sister, I shouldn't like to talk about her as you do about yours." " You wouldn't like to face facts, you mean ; very few people do. Still it's the safest plan, upon the whole ; and one unquestionable fact is that Cicely won't fall a prey to a fortune-hunter if her affectionate brother can prevent it. To this Archie made no rejoinder ; but throwing his cigar mto the fire, got up and went to bed. It might be possible, he thought, to avoid quarrelling with Morton, but it was quite impossible to help wanting to break his neck. -. ( CHAPTER IV. MADAME SOURAVIEFP. In the drawing room of a small, but artistically fur- nished house in Clarges-street, a lady was seated, scribbling off notes and letters with a great appearance of haste. This was the Countess Souravieff, a name pretty well-known in MISADVENTURE. SI m more often the emotion lade the mis- I two years at ir altogether ; are very well ike." ular belief is ood and bad in their talk, men do." good deal in^ ; it isn't W- cur to yon to'? it deal rather ;'re all tarreil sed to be the ^rchie, " but 1 to talk about an ; very few whole ; and "all a prey to n prevent it. hrowing his It might be with Morton. to break his tistically fur- ed, scribbling f haste. This veil-known in all European capitals, except London, and now in a fair way to achieve notoriety there also. That the Countess would ever achieve anything more than that doubtful ad- vantage was, perhaps, not very likely ; because in these days political adventurers have to contend almost every- where against democratic institutions, which limit the scope of their ingenuity. Still she was in some degree a personage. Diplomatists took her into account ; Prime Ministers (one or two of them at all events) asked her to dinner and listened with interest to what she had to say ; and the police kept a solemn and watchful eye upon her nrui^'cments. This pleased her very much ; for she was an ambitiouswoman, and what was more,shewas quite in earn- est. If there was one thing about which Madame Souravieflf was more certain than another (and she \vas certain about a remarkable number of things) it was that the Slavonic races were destined to rule the world. That being so. the sooner the Slavonic races got into the saddle the better, and she was now devoting all her energies to giving them a leg up. With this end, and with certain subordinate and private ends of her own in view, she had taken a house in Mayfair for the season, had initiated friendly relations with a few politicians and journalists, and explained to sundry 1 great ladies that if she did not live with her husband, that f was only because her husband was a man for whom it was I impossible to feel anything but antipathy. She was not |divorced from him ; she was not even separated from him ; ibut, since they could not meet without disagreeing, they |had thought it advisable to meet as seldom as might be. I Judging by the quantity of invitation cards which lay lupon her writing-table, the great ladies had considered these excuses sufficiently valid, and there was every prospect of Madame Souravieff' s proving herself a social. If not a political, success. She had been a very pretty roman, and one would not have thought of employing the ►luperfect tense in speaking of her had it not been for a Pew grey hairs in the neighbourhood of her temples and a slight inclination towards embonpoint in her figure. Her ;omplexion and her teeth were as perfect as they had ilways been, and her large, dark eyes quite as expressive, "ine kind of critic might have objected that her cheek- lones were a little too hig^h, s^nd another kind that she •) 3f MISADVENTURE. had loaded her white fingers with rather too many jewels ; in other respects there was really no fault to be found with her appearance. Her epistolary labours were interrupted every now and then by the entrance of a grave butler, who brought her cards upon a silver tray. Some of them he merely handed to her and then retired ; others appeared to call for some response, and this was always given in the same words — *' I do not receive." It was not until the afternoon had become evening that this formula was departed from in favour of a gentleman whose card bore the name •• Mr. Mark Chetwode." The butler, who was an observant man, and naturally wanted to find out anything that he could about the foreign lady whose service he had only just entered, fancied that Madame Souravieff's hand trembled slightly as she took this scrap of pasteboard from him ; but, however thai may have been, there was no tremulousness in her clear voice when she said, " Yes, show him in." He was shown in accordingly ; a slim, pale man, very carefully dressed, who, despite his English name, had much more of the appearance of a Russian than the lady who rose to greet him. His age might have been any- thing between thirty and forty. His fair hair was cut close to his head, after the foreign fashion, and had no parting ; his moustache was waxed ; his eyes were of so pale a blue as to be almost colourless ; his face (and this was what made many people admire him) had absolutely no expression whatever. One cannot help admiring a man who can manage to look a perfect blank without looking in the least a fool. " What a pretty house ! " he exclaimed, glancing appreciatively round the room. * You look quite as if you lived here. But that is a way of yours. If you were planted in the middle of Siberia — as perhaps you may be some fine day — you would make yourself completely at home in a few hours." Madame Souravieff made a slight grimace. " Is that all you have to say to me ? " she asked. " Oh no ; I have so many things to sa}' that the diffi- culty is to know where to start. Perhaps I had better begin by expressing my surprise and delight at meeting you in England." I MISADVENTURE. 3.*? ly jewels ; )und with y now and ought her ;ly handed 1 for some e words — moon had d from in ime " Mr. observant ig that he had only eff's hand pasteboard ere was no aid, "Yes, man, very name, had in the lady been any- ir was cut nd had no were of so nd this was solutely no ing a man t looking in glancing e as if you you were ou may be npletely at sked. It the diffi- had better at meeting (( That would be as good a way of beginning as another, if it were not absurd. You are never surprised, Mark ; and sometimes I think that you are never deliglited. Of course I have very good reasons for being in England, and you know them all. For one thing, it is a free country." •• So they say ; but to the best of my knowledge it is not a country in which one can do what one likes." " At any rate it is a country in which one can say what one likes without being sent to prison." " Yes — if that is an advantage. You will certainly obtain a good deal of sympathy, and possibly you may be able to collect a good deal of money, if you are careful to avoid specifying what you want if for. Setting politics aside, what motive have you for establishing yourself in Clarges Street ? — if one may venture to ask." " You ought not to require any answer to such a ques- tion," said Madame SouraviefF. Mr. Chetwode looked down at his neat little boots and tapped them meditatively with his cane for a few seconds. *• It is dangerous," he said at length. '• One may be watched in London just as well as anywhere else." " At least we can meet here, and we could not meet at Vienna or Wiesbaden. Besides, what do I care ? Let him watch and spy to his heart's content. He can never find out anything wrong about me, because there is nothing wrong to find out." " It might perhaps be sufficient if he found out that I visited you constantly. I doubt whether he believes in my entire devotion to the cause of Panslavism." " Nobody could believe easily in your devotion to any cause — or any person," returned Madame SouraviefF, rather bitterly. *' You almost make me regret that I did not take you at your word long ago and say farewell to you for ever. Most likely that is what you would have preferred. If you are weary of me, be honest and and tell me so." Mr. Chetwode raised his pale blue eyes and smiled faintly. " You know how long I have loved you, Olga," he replied. •* I am not weary I am only hopeless. And why should you compromise yourself by receiving It may get you into great trouble, and it can do no to either pf ys. Do you knpw that when your me ? good note 34 MISADVENTURE. reached me I had serious thoughts of paying no attention to it ? If I were a rich man the case would be different ; but, as far as I can make out, I am very nearly a ruined man. I can do nothing eitlier for you or for your cause, and, really, your wisest plan would be to show me the door." Madam Souravieff seemed to be a good deal touched by the ..words, which were coldly enougli enunciated. " Poor Mark ! " she exclaimed compassionately. •• Has your journey been a failure, then ? Are your affairs in a worse state than you expected ? " •' Oh, I expected them to be in a bad state. For some years past 1 have had very little to live upon beyond the •rent that I received for my house, and now my tenant has departed, and the lawyer tells me that I am not very likely to find a fresh one. He thinks the best thing I can do is to live there myself. It is a cheerful prospect." " I can't imagine you living in an English province," remarked Madame Souravieff, smiling a little at the idea. '• What will you do with yourself ? Who will your neigh- bours be ? " ♦' It is not unlikely that I shall blow my brains out. I have not had the curiosity to inquire who will be my neighbours. The village clergyman, I suppose, and the village doctor. Also a few native landowners — amongst others, the one who now owns the land which ought to be mine." ** I remember that you used to tell me about him, name is Bligh, and he gained a lawsuit against because he was rich enough to bribe the judges, not that it ? " " Not exactly. In this country judges are irremovable, which, I am assured, renders them incorruptible. Never- theless, a rich Englishman is more likely to win a lawsuit than a poor one, because he can go on applying to superior courts. I believe it was in that way that Mr. Bligh obtained a decision against my father, whose means were limited." " Consequently Mr. Bligh can hardly be counted as a neighbour." " I do not precisely love him," replied Mr. Chetwode, with his slow, faint smile, "but if he sees fit to call upon His you, Was MISADVEINTURR. 35 ention urent ; ruined cause, lie the ^uched ciated. " Has irs in a )r some Dnd the ant has Dt very g I can t.'; Dvince," he idea, r neigh- out. I be my and the imongst It to be m. ist His you, Was novable, Never- lawsuit ying to that Mr. e means ited as a Hietwode, [all upon me I shall return his visit. I hear, however, that he is a cripple; so he j)robably won't call upon me. Let us talk no more of my affairs, whicii are a most depressing topic of conversation. Tell me about yours. Has the date of the revolution been fixed yet ? " " What revolution ? " inquired Madame Souravieff quickly. '• I am so stupid I I can't at this moment recollect whether it was to take place in Servia or Bulgaria. How- ever, the Vienna people know all about it ; so that the persons interested have no doubt received full warning." " You accuse me of doing dangerous things," observed Madame Souravieff; "don't you think that you yourself sometimes say them ? When one has taken such engage- ments as you have done, one should be a little less reckless." " I am discretion itself in ordinary company ; but with you I feel sure that I am safe. The revolution has my best wishes ; only I am rather sceptical as to its coming off, because, as I tell you, the secret is already an open one." •* Mark," exclaimed Madame Souravieff, striking her hands together impatiently, " you are a true Englishman ; you have no heart ! " " And everybody here tells me that I am not in the least like an Englishman. They say it regretfully and apologetically, because, of course, it is such a very cruel thing to say of any one*; yet they think I ought to know it, in order that I may try to reform. As for my having no heart, that is a point upon which there can be no better judge than you. If you say that I have none, you are probably right." Madame Souravieff made no rejoinder for some min- utes. " And when do you propose to instal yourself in this remote chateau of yours?" she asked abruptly, at length. " I thought of going down to-morrow orthe next day." '* Although you know that I came here for — for " '• For political objects, as I understood." " Ah, yes, for political objects. I had better stick to them, no doubt. Good-bye, then, Mark, since you are so anxious I i to him. say good-bye nfi MISADVENTURE. •* You are ratlmr unjust, Olpfa," said Mr. Chetwode, without rising. " If 1 were anxious to leave London immediately after your arrrival, and on account of it, that would be for your sake, not for mine. The Count can do me no sort of harm ; it wouldn't injure me in any way if he were to learn that I was in this house from morning to night. But he might injure you very materially by the simple expedient of declining to pay your expenses any longer. You used to be fully alive to that risk." " Do you mean to tell me that you are going away for my sake, then ? " " Oh, no — although if I were able to stay in London I should endeavour to l)e circumspect for your sake. I am going away for the vulgar but sufficient reason that I can't afford to live here. The necessaries of hfe are cheap at A.bbotsport, I am told." Madame SouraviefT looked as if she were strongly tempted to make an offer which it has been agreed from time immemorial that no man who respects himself can accept. Probably knowledge of her visitor's character restrained her from doing so ; for she only sighed, and said : " Abbotsport ? Is there an hotel at Abbotsport ? " " Certainly not. I doubt whether there is even an inn ; thought there may be a few ale-houses." " Then I will tell you what I will do. When the Lon- don season is over, I will take your house. Will you let your house to me for a few months ? " " I shall be delighted ; only in that case, you see, I should have to go away." '* Not necessary. You could find accommodation in the neighbourhood, if you chost-.. Have you not an intendant — a bailiff — what do yoi? ciU him ? Turn him out of his house for the time ; it could be easily done. We must think it over and devise tome plan. It is absurd that we should both be in England, yet unable to exchange a word." " I suppose it is," said Mr. Chetwode, rising ; •' yet, perhaps, it is even mora absurd that we should continue to meet. As I told you before, I am useless and ruined. One should never compromise oneself for a ruined and useless man." " You are not useless, and I have not compromised hi bt th a sal ah th( pa MISADVENTURE. 97 myself," declared Madame Souravieff, warmly. " As for ruin, nobody is ever ruined except by his own fault. I want you to be great and powerful, and I think you will he some day. And I want to see you from time to time, because — well, you know why. Try to believe, Mark, that one may be ambitious without being heartless, and that Icve is not always selfish.'' " Dear me ? " said Mr. Chetwode, •• I thought that was just what I was proving. The unselfishness of love, I mean. I know very little about ambition." To look at him, one would have imagined that he knev/ quite as much about that passion as about the other ; and, as a matter of fact, he was a man who had always coveted power and had fretted under conditions which had made the attainment of any sort of distinction impossible to iiim. Born and brought up at St. Petersburg, whether his father, after marrying a Russian lady, had settled permanently, he belonged to his mother's nation in habits and feelings, while remaining an Englishman in name. Thus he had been debarred from any career either in the land of his adoption or that of his origin, and when his parents died he had passed the age at which a fresh start can be made. They left him a moderate fortune, which he got rid of slowly, but steadily, over the card tables at his club. He had amused himself to the best of his ability, but that was not very well, because, for his mis- fortune, amusements did not satisfy him. Of late years he had dabbled in political intrigues to an extent which had rendered his departure from St. Petersburg desirable, his chief reason for labouring in the cause of Panslavism being a desire to please Madame Souravieff, with whom he had fallen as much in love as a man of his temperament could. As he walked away from Clarges Street, with both his hands clasped behind his back, he said to himself that he was very tired of Panslavism and of the solemn mystery in which his fellow conspirators were wont to shroud their proceedings. Perhaps he was also beginning to be a little tired of Madame Souravieff; but this he did not say to himself, because there are misgivings which it is always unwise to formulate, lest they should thus resolve themselves into unmistakable realities. For two years past Madame Souravieflf had been everything to him ; if '•*'! I ^ MtSADVENWllfi. he were now to lose the excitement by means of which she had been wont to make his somewhat sluggish blood run more quickly in his veins, he would have absolutely noth- ' ing lett to live for. Life as an impoverished English country gentleman did not seem to him to offer any attractive possibilities ; yet that was the kind of life which he hasibly he might never have risen to Cabinet rank if he had not been so very rich ; but what- ever the reason of it may have been, he had held high i I "if: I 1 ^M MISADVENTURE. 43 an to ghtly )s too said, 36 de- might V how er all, think ughed jnse of lie her ;h she ted to of the ge ad- iture in timate, : it was iduals, ic or in with a he him Id her hat he •ments. ,te and almost about ler car- lowards whom [ho still |o. He was a made ^d upon isen to It what- \d high offices, and was sure to nold them agam some day. At present he was in Opposition, which left him free to amuse himself and others by delivering inflammatory har- angues every now and then, by consorting with queer people, and by asking Madame Souravieff to dinner. That lady, on being shown into the great drawing-room at Queensferry House, met with a very cordial reception from her host and hostess, and found herself in highly distinguished company. The guests were not numerous, but they were celebrated, and Madame Souravieff had not been three minutes in the room before she perceived that she herself was, for the time being, the chief celebrity amongst them. They all looked at her, they were all anxious to be introduced to her, and it was evident that they all thought her a remarkably handsome woman. This pleased her immensely, for she loved admiration, and delighted in being recognised as a factor in contemporary politics. But she knew better than to begin talking of politics at once. While dinner was going on she contented herself with asking many questions about English life and manners, and confessing to a strong affection lor English people. " I should like to be an Englishwoman," she remarked ingenuously, during a pause in the general conversation ; " but since that cannot be, I must try to be a good Rus- sian. It is perhaps the next best thing." Everybody thought her very nice and very clever, and in truth she managed to say some clever things in an un- affected way. She was, at all events, clever enough to know that English people are easily bored, and that nothing bores them quite so much as enthusiasm in private life. Therefore she kept a curb upon herself until her opportunity arrived. This was soon after dinner, when the venerable states- man whose countenance and support she specially coveted approached her and seated himself upon the sofa by her side. He crossed his legs, folded his hands, smiled benignly, and said : " Now, Madame Souravieff, you must tell me all about Bulgaria." " Ah," she replied, " what can I tell you that you do not already know ? You are one of those marvellous peojple who kno\y everything." i I I 44 MISADVENTURE. The great man looked pleased, although he felt bound to disclaim the omniscience ascribed to him. When he was out of office he was compelled, he said, to derive his information from the newspapers, like the rest of the public, and such information was not always to be relied upon. " Oh, the newspapers ! " exclaimed Madame SouravieflF, with a disdainful shrug of her shoulders. " I have always been accustomed to read the English newspapers, and since I have been in London I have done so with addi- tional interest. They are very nicely printed — one must render them that justice — but I have often been obliged to rub rr'y eyes in order to convince myself that the words which 1 seemed to see were actually there. The way in which they tr^ General Kaulbars, the most charming, the most inoffensive, the most placable man in the world, is enough o inake anyone doubt their good faith. Yet I really believe 1 -t iv-:cj, are honest. The English people are no doubt stupid and easily taken in, but they are honest, and that is why I love them." " We are certainly honest," said the statesman. '* Nevertheless you are, if I may be allowed to say so, curiously prejudiced. Your one idea is that Russia wants Constantinople and must be kept out of it. You will not believe that Bulgaria is in the hands of a gang of adven- turers, and that the heart of the people is — as indeed it must be — with us. You can't, or you won't, understand that it is we who have given freedom to Bulgaria, that the Bulgarians are our brothers by race and creed, and that there is such a thing as gratitude even in politics." " We may admit all that and yet not wish to see you at Constantinople, Madam SouraviefF." '* But can you prevent us from going there eventually ? Have you any alternative policy ? I am only a woman, I have no pretensions to statecraft ; still I can see that right is might, not might right. It is a conflict between Christianity and infidelity, and though Europe may choose to take the losing side and to close her eyes, and may retard the inevitable for many years to come, yet at last Christianity must conquer, as it alwa5's has conquered. The Cross will be raised again upon the dome of St. Sophia— I am as certain of it as I am of my own exist- MISADVENTURE. 43 bound len he ive his of the ; relied iravieflf, always rs, and :h addi- 16 must obliged e words ; way in larming, e world, . Yet I ti people they are 1. say so, sia wants 1 will not of adven- indeed it iderstand L, that the and that o see you rentually ? a woman, see that :t between lay choose and may yet at last conquered. )me of St. own exist- ence—the only question is whether this shall be done with or against the will of Christendom." She spoke with a great deal ot animation, and perhaps her beauty and her earnestness may have impressed her auditor, who remarked, " I, at least, shall hardly be accused of entertaining any sentiments of tenderness for the Turks." *• Nor for us either, I am afraid. Ah, if you only understood us and would trust us ! There are but two great races in the world, the Anglo-Saxon and the Slav. Let them be friends, instead of enemies, and the peace and happiness of mankind is assured 1 Is it too much to hope for such an understanding ? " Whether this was or was not an extravagantly sanguine expectation, she was encouraged to enlarge upon it, and the succeeding half-hour was made extremely pleasant to her. By the end of that time the room was full of people, for Lady Queensferry was holding a great reception, to which she had invited every man and woman whose name appeared in her visiting-book. Amongst them were many persons who wished to be recognised by Madame Soura- viefF's interlocutor, and amongst them, too, was a certain obscure (comparatively obscure) solicitor who, for reasons of his own, was anxious to make Madame SouraviefF's acquaintance. He attained his object without any difficulty, and she smiled with her usual graciousness when the little chubby, p;rey-headed man, who was introduced to her as " Mr. Wingfield," drew his heels together and made her a pro- found bow, though she wondered who Mr. Wingfield might be and what he could have to say to her. He had plenty to say to her about political matters, and was much less reserved than the great statesman had been. He quite saw the force of all her arguments ; he professed himself a Liberal — a moderate Liberal — and was willing to allow that the British public might have been wholly misled as to the state of affairs in the Balkan provinces. But of course she understood perfectly well that he only reached his point when he remarked casually, " A great friend and client of mine, who, I believe, is also a friend of yours, is deeply interested in the Eastern Ques- tion. I mean poor young Chetwode." 'it t ,;«s pi i M ' )■ ■ 'I 'Pi 'n i if issj < !l "I 40 MISADVKNTUUE. *' Why do you call him poor ? " Madame Souravieff inquired. *' Because, unfortunately, iie is very poor indeed. He seems to have spent nearly the whole of his fortune — whether in support of revolutionary committees or not, of course, I can't say — and tiie income arising from the small extent of property which still remains to him in this country can hardly do more than keep the big house which stands upon it in repair." *' He was defrauded of a part of his property by a neighbour of his, was he not ? " asked Madame Souravieff. The lawyer laughed. " Oh, well, his father used to say so, and I believe he himself has some such idea. As a matter of fact, old Mr. Bligh, the father of Mark's present neighbour, held mort- gages and foreclosed. Old Mr. Bligh may not have been very friendly or forbearing ; but he was certainly within his right. However, the transfer of the land has left a great deal of bitter feeling, which is to be regretted. In your wide experience you must have met with many queer types of humanity, Madame Souravieff; did you ever happen to come across a '•omantic lawyer before ? " " Frequently," answered Madame Souravieff, smiling. " Why not ? " " Well, perhaps they are more common in Russia than they are in England. Anyhow, I have always regarded myself as singular in that respect. It is an amiable weak- ness which I can't help, and which, after all, harms nobody. Lately I have been beguiling my leisure moments by constructing a romantic plot, of which Mark Chetwode is the hero and Mr. Bligh's only daughter the heroine. I must tell you that Mr. Bligh is a very rich man, and that his daughter will certainly inherit a considerable fortune from him, if she does not mherit the whole of his landed property." " Is she pretty ? " asked Madame Souravieff, quickly. " I believe she is not plain," said the astute solicitor ; " but one must not be too exacting in such cases." He looked sharply, as he spoke, at the Russian lady, who preserved an unruffled exterior. " I hope," said she musingly, '• that your romance may become a reality. It would IiQ a very good thing." MISADVENTURE. 47 uraviefF :d. He irtune — not, of he small in this ;e which ty by a uravieff. ;lieve he , old Mr. Id mort- ive been y within as left a tted. In my queer you ever ? " , smiling. ssia than regarded ble weak- 1, harms moments etwode is roine. I and that J fortune is landed quickly, solicitor ; lan lady, ' said she ;ality. It i< Yes, yes," returned Mr. Wingfield, nodding his head ; " it would be a good thing. A good thing for Mark, and, perhaps, not a very bad thing for the revolutionary committees." •' Oh, I know nothing about revolutionary committees," Souravieff declared ; " It is only from the newspapers that I hear of their existence. Still, there is no cause in the world that can be kept going without funds, and you are quite right in guessing that Mr. Chetwode will be more valuable to us as a rich man than as an impoverished one." She turned away with a little nod of dismissal, leaving Mr. Wingfield in some doubt as to whether she would prove to be an ally or an opponent of his. •* But I am sure of one thing," he reflected ; I am pretty sure that Mark wants to be rid of her." CHAPTER VI. ARCHIE GOES OUT FISHING. CI Lowndes brought me a bit of news this morning," remarked Mr. Bligh, addressing the four persons who were seated at luncheon around the oval table. " I know what it is," exclaimed Miss Skipwith ex- citedly : " I have been expecting it for weeks past. The Bishop has forbidden him to use the eastward position, and I must say that I think the Bishop is perfectly right. I do hope Mr. Lowndes will not be so silly as to go on defying the law." " Oh, I fancy he will," answered her brother-in law, placidly. " The Bishop hasn't been so silly — or so wise, which is it ? — as you imagine. Lowndes' news was of a less important kind. It is only that young Mark Chetwode is coming home." " Coming to live at Upton Chetwode, do you mean ? " asked Cicely eagerly. " I call that very important indeed. Is he reall}- going to settle there, or is he only coming down until he can find another tenant ? " " That Lowndes didn't know," answered Mr. Bligh. " Probably Chetwode would be glad to let the place again 11 m 48 MISADVENTURE. if he could ; but it isn't very letable, and he can't afford to leave it empty. The chances are that he will have to occupy it himself for a good many years to come." " Poor devil ! " ejaculated Morton, compassionately. •• You wouldn't like to be situated as he is, would you ? " asked his father, with a smile. The heir-apparent took some trouble to make his mean- ing clear. Certainly he would not care to be in Mark Chetwode's shoes, because, in his opinion, nothing could be more wretched than to live in a large house surrounded by lands which had passed away from one's family, and to be reminded at every turn that one represented a worn-out, poverty-stricken race. He did not in the least believe that the day of territorial influence and usefulness had gone by ; only land-owners who depended for an income on their land were now an anachronism. They couldn't live upon such an income, much less help others out of it. *' Look at this property, for instance," he added. " It is a well-managed property, I believe ; but if it were mine I would much rather sell it at once than attempt to keep things going upon the rents that I could squeeze out of my tenants." " I trust that you never will be reduced to so painful a necessity," said Mr. Bligh, with such a slight twinkle in his eyes that nobody noticed it. " 1 remember that I used to hear vague rumours about the Chetwodes when I was a boy," remarked Archie. •• The Abbotsport people shook their heads over them, and doubted whether they weren't traitors to their Queen and country. Didn't they stay in Russia all through the Crimean war ? " " I believe so," answered Mr. Bligh ; ♦• but as Mark was not born at that time we must not hold him respon- sible. I daresay you recollect old Mr. and Mrs. Morant, who lived at Upton Chetwode for many years. They are both dead now, and I suppose it isn't ea^y to find anybody who would care to take such a large house, with nothing attached to it beyond the park and a few acres of wood- land." ** There are pheasants in the woods," said Cicely, " and there might be many more at the cost of a little money and trouble. Upton Chetwode is a dear old place, MISADVENTURE. afford to I have to it nately. Id you?" his mean- in Mark ing could rrounded ly, and to worn-out, t beUeve ness had ncome on ildn't live out of it. " It is a e mine I : to keep 3ut of my painful a ikle in his urs about i Archie, er them, ir Queen ough the as Mark 1 respon- Morant, They are anybody 1 nothing of wood- Cicely, a little >ld place, which must not be allowed to fall into ruins. 1 shall seize the first opportunity to tell Mr. Chetwode that it is his duty to take up his abode there." " You have such a convincing way of putting things, my dear," observed ner father, " that I am quite sure he would see his duty at once, if only a chance of pointing it out to him were given you. Unfortunately, there is very little prospect of your getting that chance, because I am afraid he has been taught to regard us as hereditary enemies." •' Oh, but he must not be so ridiculous," Cicely de- clared, decisively. *• Old Mr. Wingfield told me all about that when he was down here last year, and he himself said that it was perfect nonsense. The Chetwodes couldn't have kept their property in any case ; and they ought to be thankful that i«- wasn't grabbed by some horrid old Jew or other. Besides, if ever he has money enough to buy it )ack I am sure we shall be delighted to let him have it." •'Shall we, indeed?" said Mr. Bligh, laughing. •* I /as not aware of that ; but since you say so no doubt it iSO." Morton glanced at his sister from beneath his lowered eelids, and remarked : *' Little girls shouldn't be so cock- sre of other people's intentions." This brought about an uncomfortable period of silence, sen after which the company dispersed. Mr. Bligh was wfceled away to the library ; Miss Skipwith, murmuring soiething about having letters to write, fluttered after hir.towards the sitting-room which was appropriated to herspecial use; and Morton, with a cigar in his mouth andiis hands in his pockets, made for the smoking-room. How long," asked Archie, when he was left alone with his Cusin, " do you suppose that your dear brother means to St. here ? " S> shook her head rather despondently. " I think he is ver tired of us," she replied, " but then, unhappily, we have It been able to conceal our desire for his departure. Perha\ if we all went down on our knees and implored him to>main with us he might fly." ArCi^ did not seem disposed to treat the matter in so 1 ght a S;it. «« Theman is simply intolerable !" he declared. *' I havtut up with him for three days, and in spite of '.f n. 'I 111 nil \ Sfi MISADVENTURE. i^reat provocation I have behaved to him, I really must say, like an angel — for your sake." " Thank you," said Cicely, with a little bow. ♦' Well, you asked me to be civil to him, you know. But I don't think I can stand his perpetual impertinence to you much longer." •* If I can stand it I should think you might. I really don't mind what you call his impertinence ; the only thing that distresses me is that I am afraid his being in the house worries my father. However, it can't be helped, and there's no use in talking about it. What are you going to do this afternoon ? Would you like to be taken out fishing with me and Bobby Dare ? Bobby wrote to me this morning to say that he had hired a boat of old Coppard (who, by- the-way, must have borrowed it, for he hasn't one of his (Hvn), and it would be an act of charity if we were to make use of it." " Of charity to Dare or to Mr. Coppard ? " inquire* Archie. " Well, to both, perhaps," answered the girl laughin, " Besiues it might help to amuse you — which is more o the purpose." Archie was not quite sure that it would amuse him<.o put out to sea ; because the wind was in the east, and as everybody knows, the wind cannot blow from that quacer in the English Channel, be it never so softly, witbut raising a long swell, which is apt to be disconcertin to landsmen. But he was not going to miss the chanii of spending several hours in Cicely's society; still leswas he inclined to leave her for several hours in the socity of Bobby Dare. Presently, therefore, the two young people set fcth for the village, and Morton, whoespied them from the sr^king- room window, muttered : " Hang the fellow ! he cght to be ashamed of himself. If he had the feelings of gentle- man he would understand that he has no altern?ve but to clear out and not show his face here again until certain event has taken place. He may come back ^en, and welcome." But Archie was free from any of the scruj^s which, according to this rigid moralist, ought to havdisturbed him, biicause— incredible though that would Jve seemed to tl MISADVKNTUKK. 51 must , know, tine nee I really ly thing le house i there's )do this ing with morning; Arho, by- le of his to maky inquire* aughin , more o e him'^o and as quacer witt>ut rtin to hana of leswas ocity of fcth for oking- ht to 3r- Co gentle- ive but certain ;n, and which, jturbed eemed to the rigid morahst— he was free from any suspicion ot tlu.ir appropriateness. He adored Cicely, and that was all that he thought about in connection with her. He did n jt believe his uncle to be dying; he haii never asked himself what would happen when his uncle died, or sup posed that it was in contemplation to put him in Morton's place. All his life he had had a sufficiency of money, and .Le idea of being wealthy would not have been especially attractive to him, even if it had entered his head. What chkily preoccupied him just now was an uneasy feeling of jealou.sy of Bobby Dare, which, as almost anybody could have lold him, was a perfectly absurd sentiment to har- bour. It was well known in the neighbourhood of Abbots- port that Miss Bligh held her head very high indeed, and ihat there was little likelihood of her throwing herself away ipon the younger son of a baronet whose rent roll, prob- ably, did not exceed £4,000 a year. But the Abbotsport eitunate of Miss Bligh was unknown to Archie ; nor, per- liips, had it been revealed to him, would he have re'ognised iti accuracy, " What sort of a chap has Dare developed into ? " he asfcd her, while they were walking at a brislc pace across Jie oark ; and when she replied carelessly, " Oh, rather a nice manly boy," he felt reassured. He hinisclf had not yet pissed the age of those — fortunatus nimiuni — who can't hear hemselves described as boys without considering that tieyhave been insulted ; so he was quite prepared to exlendthe hand of tolerant good-fellowship to his old ac- (juaintaice, Lieutenant Dare, R.N. , who had been walking laipatieitly up and down the jetty for a good half-hour oeiore tla arrival of Cicely and her escort. Bobb) Dare, for his part, was not precisely overjoyed to see the young Lancer, for whose appearance he had not been prepared ; but as he was a thoroughly kind- hearted anc good-natured little fellow, he said everything ihat was poite, and was even considerate enough to men- tion that thee was a bit of a lop outside. "1 knowvliss Bligh doesn't care," he said, "she's as j(ood a sailor « I am. But there are a good many people who cannot st&id an easterly swell." Archie at on-.e gave it to be understood that he was not one of the unforunates alluded to ; and from the bottom \- 52 MISADVENTURE. of his heart he hoped he was not. At all events, he would have died rather than retreat at the eleventh hour, ana he seated himself in the boat with a grim determination that if by any means the mind could be made to dominate the body he would not disgrace himself. Now there is no doubt but that the mind can dominate the body to a certain extent and within certain limits. Any ordinary person, by putting forth the full strength of his will, may keep himself for a time from fainting or being sea-sick ; but even an extraordinary person is bound to be vanquished at length. In the former case the colours have to be hauled down when everything becomes black; in the latter, defeat is indicated by symptoms upon whioi it is needless to dwell. Archie was well acquainted wifh them, and was thankful that he did not experience them during the first half-hour that he spent on board the Rover. Nevertheless, he was not altogether happy. There vas very little wind, but the ebbing tide was raising a ntsty cross sea, over which the boat plunged and rolled uncom- fortably ; he was afraid that he was looking rather geen, and he felt incapable of keeping up conversation. Over the side he was dangling a line with which old Coppard had provided him ; although nobody knew better thin old Coppard that there was not the remotest prospect of any fish being caught under existing circumstances. Bat after all, fishing of that kind is never a very exciting .brm of sport, and in truth neither Bobby Dare nor Cicfly cared a straw whether they were successful or not. Ccely was enjoying herself. She loved the sea ; perhaps, tO), she did not dislike the humble worship of her neighbour, who, with the tiller under his arm, was looking uispeakable things at her. She ignored the unspeakable things, but listened willingly to those which v,-ere spolen, and dis- played a kindly interest in what Bobby told ier about his prospects. He had been through a cours of gunnery instruction ; he hoped soon to be afloat ^ain ; he con- fessed that he did not care much about a polonged leave, and said, with something of a sigh, that hi' profession was all he had to live for. HIg wo'^ing could ^lardly be called a wooing, because it started with the assumption that there was no hope for him. (which is a ery fatal assump- tion to start with) ; yet he obtained a measure of com- MISADVENTURE. passion and gratitude which his rival noted with vexation It was not pleasant to hear Cicely saying that if she had been a man she would cert-iinly have been a sailor ; it was still less pleasant to catch fragments of confidential com- municatirns about her brother, which she thought fit to make to one who was in no way concerned with her family affairs ; and what was worst of all was to be treated as non-existent. Archie was not accustomed to be so treated ; he did not aopreciate the delicacy which deterred his cousin from looking at him or addressing him ; and so, as time went on, his physical uneasiness became compli- cated by a sharp attack of jealousy and ill-temper. Meanwhile Coppard, who had been sitting in the bows, with his elbows on his knees, and had been keeping very quiet (for he was not sure whether Miss Cicely had for- given him yet) was also growing uneasy. Coppard knew that the wind was shifting — had, indeed, already shifted a point or two to the southward. Furthermore, he knew that it was going to blow, and had private misgivings which he felt bound at last to express. " What should you say to gettin' about, sir ?" he asked, deferentially. *' 'Tis working up rather ugly to the west- 'ard, and we may get more of it than we want presently." Bobby rose and took a quick survey of the horizon. " Yes, there's a change of weather coming," he agreed, " but I expect we shall be all right until after sunset. What do you think, Miss Bligh ? Do you want to go back ? " Cicely did not want to go back, but she did think that the sky looked threatening. After a momentary hesita- tion , she referred the question to her cousin : '" Have you had enough of it, Archie ? " Thereupon Mr. Coppard was ill-advised and ill-man- nered enought to chuckle. •* More'n enough, Miss, you may depend! " answered he, before Archie could open his lips. Then it was that Archie was impelled to declare promptly and mendaciously that for his part he didn't careif they stayed out till midnight. Now this, little as he supposed it, was by no means an impossible contin- gency. The south-west wind defied precedent, as it sometimes will, by rising, first in puffs, then with steadily increasing force, a good hour before its proper time, and r.. I'Sl 54 MISADVENTURE. r>oon the Rover was running before it towards Abbotsport without any certainty of being able to make that haven. The harbour, it is true, was protected by a breakwater, which Mr. Bligh had caused to be constructed, but then this breakwater had for years past been causing the gradual formation of a bar, and under certain conditions of tide and wind this bar was an obstacle which had to be taken into account." " I doubt we shan't do it, sir," said Coppard to the man at the helm. •' Oh, we shall do it right enough," returned the latter, who had himself been peering somewhat anxiously across the curling waves ahead ; " there ought to be plenty of water." *' So there did, sir ; you never spoke a truer word. But maybe there ain't, you see. 'Tis nigh upon low water now, and the sea setting straight in." " Well, but what are we to do if we can't cross the bar, Coppard ? " Cicely inquired. Coppard had to confess that in that case there would be nothing for it but to stand out to sea again and await the turn of the tide. This, he hastened to add, would involve no sort of rislf ; the Rover would make nothing of far worse weather than they were likely to see that even- ing. Only, to be sure, they might get a wetting. '• Hang it all, man ! " exclaimed Archie, with a sudden outburst of irritation, " if you knew there was going to be any difficulty about getting into harbour, why did you keep us out so long ? I suppose the fact is that you're paid by time." He might have brought many more injurious accusa- tions without giving half so much offence. The only excuse for him was that he was afraid neither Cicely nor Bobby would much mind being exposed to the buffettmg of the waves for another two or three hours, whereas he knew for certain that he himself must very shortly collapse. Coppard behaved extremely well. For a moment he scowled angrily at the young man, but he controlled him- self and only answered ; " I'll take 'ee in, sir, if so be as it can be done. I don't want Miss Cicely co be put to no inconvenience." So they kept on their course, while a little group of persons who were watching them from the jetty hoped ^hat they might be in time, but had doubts about it. IdSADVENTUBS. H CHAPTER VII. THE ARRIVAL OF THE ALIEN. "Your view, then," said Mark Chetwode, "is that I must grin and bear it ? " He was sitting in the city office of Mr. Wingfield whither he had betaken himself in order to consult his family solicitor about certain matters of business, the dis- cussion of which had gradually led to a topic very near his heart — that, namely, of the transfer of a part of his hereditary possessions to Mr. Bligh. " My dear sir,'' answered the little lawyer, folding his hands and smilmg amiably, " what other view could a sen- sible being take? Nobody asks you to grin, but as for bearing it — well, I suppose we must all bear what can't be helped. Your poor father, I know, persisted in thinking that he had been defrauded, but that, if I may be allowed to say so, was very great nonsense. He mortgaged his land, he was unable for a considerable time to pay the in- terest due, and then the mortgagee foreclosed. You may be as angry as you please with the mortgagee, but I really don't see how you can imagine that you have any legal claim against him. For tht, matter of that I confess that I don't see much sense in being angry with him either." Mark Chetwode stroked his moustache and fixed his colourless eyes upon Mr. Wingfield. " I am very seldom angry," said he ; " only I should have thought that in this country, where justice is supposed to reign supreme, a man would have been allowed some chance of redeeming his own. My father, as you know, could have done that, if time had been given him." •' Your theory," observed the lawyer, with a smile, •' favours an insecurity of title which would hardlybe to the public advantage. Not that it matters much. Your father, you say, could have freed the estate ; but could you do so ? " '* No, because I have been a fool, and have squandered my patrimony. That, however, does not prevent me from 'I if '•? 1 Hi. li Vj -m ^ 56 MISADVENTURE. regarding Mr. Bligh as a licensed robber. I am unreason* able, if you choose, but that is how I feel." ** Well now," said the lawyer, persuasively, " I wouldn't feel in that way about it if I were you ; I wouldn't really. It's a little bit absurd, you know, and I am sure that you are no lover of absurdity. You have a fancy — a very natural and very creditable fancy — for recovering the land which once belonged to your family. But there are more ways than one of doing that. Or, to be strictly accurate, there is only one way ; and I should think that it would be by no means an unpleasant one. Mr. Bligh, who won't live much longer, has a daughter ; and from all that I hear his daughter has an excellent chance of being his heiress." " He has a son, too, hasn't he ? " " Yes, but his son is a black sheep. Not an ordinary black sheep who might be expected to turn more or less white on acquiring wealth and responsibility, but one of a deep and permanent dye. Morton Bligh has advertised himself, too, as a radical. Also he is a freethinker, who haa translated the freedom of his thoughts into action after a fashion which shows that he has the courage of his opinions. There is no saying what mischief a fellow like that might not work in such a place as Abbotsport, where feudal traditions still linger. His father, who is a con- scientious Tory, is afraid of his son and would like to dis- inherit him. He is not fond of his son and he adores his daughter. His present scheme, if I am correctly informed, is to disinherit the son in fevour of the daughter, always supposing he can get the daughter to marry a nephew of his, a subaltern in a cavalry regiment. But the young lady is said to be self-willed ; and for my own part I should imagine that a young lady's first cousin would always start rather heavily handicapped." •' Oh, I see. You would advise me to enter myself against the subaltern ? " " Why not ? It would be an honourable and satis- factory method of obtaining your object." Mark Chetwode laughed. He had a singularly dreary laugh. " I am much obliged to you," he said, ♦* but there are reasons which I am afraid would make it impossible for me to adopt your suggestion." MISADVENTURE. 57 Mr. Wingfitld knew a great dsal 1 etter than to inquire what those reasons might be. He only remarked, after a pause, during which he glanced at some of the letters which were lymg upon the table : " By the way, I met your friend, Madame Souravief}*, at Lord Queensferry's the other night. Lord Queensferry, who is a client of mine, asks me to his big crushes, and in that way I get oc- casional glimpses of celebrities. Madame SouraviefT is a celebrity, isn't she ? Anyhow she is a very clever woman." " Did you think so ? " returned Mark, languidly. " What did she talk about to you ? " " Oh, not much about politics ; she probably under- stood that my political opinions were of no great import- ance to anybody. I think we talked more about you than about anything else. And she quite agreed with me that you could not do better than to marry Miss Bligh." Mr. Wingfield, as he made this assertion, peeped from under his eyelids at his visitor, whose impassive countenance did not change. The lawyer, however, was a close ob- server, and he thought that he detected an almost imper- ceptible movement, which could not be called a start, yet might be taken as an equivalent to one, on the part of the younger man. Mark said, " That was generous of her, because she doesn't as a rule like her friends to marry." The subject was not pursued further, and soon after- wards he took his leave. He walked meditatively for some distance down the street, and the upshot of his medi- tations was that he said to himself, " I don't believe it." As a matter of fact he seldom believed in anybody or any- thing, experience having convinced him that most things and people are false. Still it seemed worth while to pro- ceed to Clarges-street with a view to making investigations ; so he hailed a hansom and had himself driven to Madame SouraviefFs door. That lady was at home and was glad to see him, or at all events professed to be so. '* I didn't expect you to-day," she said ; *' you told me you wouldn't be able to come." " I didn't think I should be able to come," he said ; " I had to go and hold a conference with my old solicitor, Mr. / r.i '■ 'A .^M 58 MISADVENTURE. Wingfield, and I imagined that he would detain me longer than he did. As it happened, our conference was brief and unsatisfactory. He assured me that I had nothing at all to complain about, that the property which was once ours now belonged quite legitimately to Mr. Bligh, and that if I wanted to get it back again I had better begin paying my addresses to Mr. Bligh's daughter, who, it jeems, is not unlikely to be his successor before long." Madame Souravieff nodded. '* Yes, that is what he said to me," she observed. '• Did he tell you that we had met at Lord Queensferry's ? " " He did, and he added that you approved of this scheme. I had just a shade of difficulty in believing him." A very slow and faint flush overspread Madame Soura- vieffs cheeks. She looked down at the carpet, which she was tapping softly with her foot. Her feet were small and well shaped, and her shoes always fitted perfectly. •* Do you consider me a selfish woman ? " she asked, raising her eyes suddenly. ♦' I do not pretend to understand women," Mark re- plied. " All I am sure about in dealing with them is that one can never be sure of them." It was not a very polite speech, but it did not seem to displease Madame Souravieff, who smiled. " Actually a little suspicion of jealousy ? " she asked, with lifted eye- brows. '• At the risk of seeming unpardonably vain, I must own that I did not think that you would wish me to marry." He looked piqued, and the truth was that he felt so, although he was more than half conscious of longing for a release which only Madame Souravieff could give him. How far she read his thought is uncertairi, for the bene- fit of a doubt is what no human being has ever been able to refuse to him or herself. But she said gently : " I think you are right; I think you don't understand women. When we love, we love less selfishly than you do. We are wise or foolish ; it doesn't matter, because we can't help ourselves ; we are made like that. I want you to be happy, I want you to be rich, and I know you well enough to know that you can never be happy unless you are rich." She added with a deep sigh, •' And the Coijnt will live for ever. He will always have the gout j Misadventure. 50 but that will not prevent him from hobbling after my coffin when I am laid in my grave. He will make a point of being at the ceremony ; he is a great stickler for etiquette, as you know." Mark shrugged his shoulders. " You really desire then that I should raise another barrier between us ? " " My friend, when we have already a stone wall between us which we cannot climb, it signifies very little whether you erect a second one beyond it or not. If there were any hope — but there is no hope ! Marry your heir- ess ; it is not I who shall forbid you. Only," she added, with an abrupt laugh, which had a certain ring of fierce- ness in it, " do not permit yourself to fall in love with her." " I possess guarantees against that danger," said Mark. He remained another half-hour with the woman whom he had once adored, and whom, perhaps, he still loved. She had many qualities which were easily understood, but she had others which were incomprehensible save to enthusiasts, and there never lived a less enthusiastic man than Mark Chetwode. When they parted it was with the mutual knowledge that they would meet no more for some time to come. He was going to his long-deserted home, and she was com- pelled, or thought herself compelled, to remain in London. But they were to write to one another frequently, and when the season should be more advanced, perhaps she might carry out that plan of renting his house from him. " In the meantime," were her last words, " try to make yourself very agreeable to the heiress. You can be very agreeable when you please ; one must do 30U that justice." " I suppose," said Mark, as he walked away, she is really unselfish. It is strange ; but it seems the truth. After all, she has common sense on her side. It is time to conclude a romance which has no prospect of reaching any reasonable conclusion. Perhaps that is what she means, though she doesn't like to say it in so many words." As to Mr. Wingfield's project, in which she had acqui- esced with such surprising readiness, he did not trouble him- self to consider it seriously. He was not a vain man ; he did not suppose— as they apparently did — that the heiress would be quite pleased to marry him if he did her the " that to be ^tffl ■yd m i \ .1 i I'll Hi F CO MISADVENTURE. lionour to propose to her ; moreover, such a method of regaining the possessions of his forefathers would have been repugnant to him. Not that he had any sort of scruple about making a marriage of convenience, but he had been brought up to regard the Blighs as his enemies ; he had been accustomed to hold them as in some unde- iined way responsible for the many failures of his life, and for his present impecunious condition. He hated the very sound of their name, and was convinced that he should liate them individually if ever he were brought into con- tact with them. On the following day he reached Upton Chetwode, and saw for the first time the beautiful old house of which the exterior had been made familiar to him by photographs. It was undeniably a beautiful old house, dating almost throughout from the sixteenth century, standing (as beauti- ful old houses so seldom do) upon a height, surrounded by lawns and flower-beds, beyond which an expanse of fairly well-timbered park fell gradually away to the edge of the chalk cliffs. But it was scarcely an inviting or cheerful dwelling-place for the lonely man. The lawns were un- mown ; the flower-beds were bare ; the gravel walks evi- dently had not been weeded for a very long time ; the few rooms which had been opened for the reception of the owner were dark, gloomy, deserted-looking, and had a damp, musty smell. As Mark stood gazing out of one of the muUioned windows at his shrunken territory and at the prospect of grey sea and sky which was discernible in the waning light of a chill spring evening, he shuddered and murmured under his breath, " A garret in Paris would be better than this." Dinner was served for him presently in the great silent dining-room, and a very bad dinner it was. He had engaged no servants ; the old couple who, with their daughter, had been living in the house since the departure of the last tenant, would, he presumed, be capable of pro- viding for his modest wants. His French valet waited upon him, and enlivened the proceedings from time to time by a heartrending sigh. All this was bad enough, but going to bed was a great deal worse. It was a posi- tive fact — for he ascertained it by inquiry — that there was not a single spring mattress in the whole house ; so that Misadventure. ()l there was nothing for it but to sleep, or attempt to sleep, upon a feather bed. And they had put him into the best bedroom, which was oak-panelled and of gigantic dimen- sions, and the bedstead itself was an appalling old four- poster. " Same as pore Mr. Morant died in," the old woman who had cooked the dinner informed him, by way of a recommendation. Perhaps it was because he had spent such an extremely wretched night that the forlorn owner of Upton Chetwode was able to take a slightly more cheerful view of his demesne on the following morning. When one's spirits reach the lowest attainable ebb, they must needs begin to flow again, besides, sunshine makes a difference in everything and everybody. He did not in the least believe that he could reside permanently in such a place, but he thought he might be able to put up with it for a time, and that by laying out a little money upon it (though where the money was to come from he couldn't imagine) he might render it attractive enough to tempt a tenant of retiring tastes ; and hfj felt a certain languid curiosity to make acquaintance with the details of English country life. It would at least be a new experience, if not a particularly exciting one. So he roamed over the house and the gardens, and had interviews with the few dependents whose services he had been compelled to retain, and he gave an order or two, and wrote some letters and listened to a great many com- plaints, the nature of which he scarcely understood, and thus the day passed away more quickly than might have been anticipated. It was already evening when he set out to walk seawards, thinking that perhaps he would pursue his explorations as far as the village of Abbotsport, which, he had been given to understand, might be reached by a zig-zag pathway cut in the face of the cliff. Now it came to pass that while he was wandering along the confines of his domain in search of this path he encountered a little old lady who was hurrying from another point of the compass towards the same destina- tion, and who appeared to be much perturbed by the sight of him. She started, threw up her hands nervously, and faltered out, " Oh, I'm afraid I'm trespassing." Mark took off his hat. " You are very welcome, Madame," he replied, smiling. tllllj ^ f . i m ■I :«fi i: > j m I ■'F: ■' (I'i MlSADVENTUUli:. In acknowledgment of this civility, the old lad}' made an antiquated bow, which was almost a curtsey. " I ihink," she said, "you must be Mr. Chetwode." And when he had admitted his identity she added, " We did not know that you were expected here so soon ; otherwise, I should not have ventured to take this liberty. The truth IS that I have been callinj^ at the Rectory, and was on my to the village. This is a short cut which poor Mr. Morant kindly gave us permission to use." " You will confer a favour on me if you will continue to use it," Mark declared. " This neighbourhood does not . |)[)ear to be densely populated, and I presume that the permission was not given to an unlimited number oi persons." •' Oh, dear, no I " returned the old lady, looking a little shocked at such an idea. *• We ourselves very seldom took advantage of it. This afternoon I was rather in a hurry to get to Aobotsport, because I was anxious about my niece, who has gone out sailing. The wind, you see, has changed, and Mr. Lowndes says we may expect a gale ; and sometimes it is impossible for boats to enter the harbour. Oh, dear, what a pity it is that young people will be so careless and thoughtless ! " '• I don't think we are going to have a gale," said Mark, to comfort her, though in truth he was no judge of uch matters. " But I can quite understand your anxiety. I myself am bound for the village ; perhaps you will kindly permit me to accompany you, and will show me the -way." Miss Skipwith thought him a very pleasant-mannered young man, and assented graciously; but when she told him who slie was, a change came over his face which she could not help noticing. " Oh," she exclaimed breathlessly, •* perhaps I ought to have mentioned my name before. I am afraid — but really that is a great mistake — that you think Mr. Bligh has taken your property from you ? " " I may be mistaken, but I was certainly under the impression that the property had passv.^d into Mr. Bligh *s hands," said Mark, with a rather grim smile. " Yes, but then, you know, it was paid for ; and besides, it was not Wilfrid, but his father, who foreclosed MISADVENTUUK. nn ^if that is the right word to use. It does seem so sad and so unnecessary that there should be any bad feehn;^' about it. Only the other day Cicely was saying that they would be delighted to let you buy the land back if you wished. Of course it isn't in her hands yet, and perhaps never will be, but I am sure that neither she nor her father would ever be guilty of an unneighbourly action." '♦ Is Cicely your niece ?" asked Mark, who was amused and a little touched by the communicativeness of the elderly stranger. '♦ Yes, and the dearest and best girl in the world, though a little too fond of her own way. But that is only what might have been expected. Poor Wilfrid being so ill and suffering, and that dreadful son of his always absent, a great deal has devolved upon Cicely which other girls of her age would nrturally have been spared. Just now I am in a good deal of trouble and perplexity about her. But I must really apologise for speaking to you about family affairs, which of course can't mterest you." ** They would interest me very much indeed if you would tell me about them," answered Mark, smothering an inclination to laugh. " Please go on." 'W I ►* m m m !■' ■»] 'f'.^,' 5:, ' 11 m CHAPTER VIII. •rill CICliLY IS INTERESTED. Everybody who knew Miss Skipwith at all well agreed that she was a goose ; and the general verdict was prob- ably correct. Nevertheless, geese sometimes accomplish what wise persons might attempt in vain, and foolish old Miss Skipwith succeeded without any difficulty in break- ing down the barrier of hostility which Mark Chetwode had conceived against all who dwelt at the Priory. She did not indeed persuade him that he had no grievance, but she conveyed to him the impression that the present holder of estates which had belonged for centuries to the Chetwode family was as innocent a sinner as Louis XVI., and she made hini feej that his quarrel was rather with 1 'M 1 '"'!l'^^ 1 ^fii \ p s;;p i li ■ iwi ■ PPl 1 III iim 64 MISADVENTURE. circumstances than with individuals. She interested him, too, by what she told him about her nephew and niece. She led the way down the zig-zag path, talking volubly the whole time, and pausing every now and then to glance over her shoulder, while she laid bare her simple hopes and fears. Morton Bligh was a dreadful man — a man who had openly avowed his disbelief in revealed religion, and who had, besides, all his life long deliberately and persistently neglected the duties imposed upon him by birth. It would be a sad calamity for Abbotsport if ever Morton were to succeed his father. •* He cares nothing for the place. I doubt if he would ever live there. All he would do would be to exact every penny of rent that was due to him, and laugh if he were told that any of his tenants in the village were starving. With Cicely it would be very different ; she loves the people and they love her, I don't say that she wouldn't make mistakes, because she is very young and headstrong, but at least her mistakes would be upon the right side." " Possibly," said Mark, " Mr. Bligh may be aware of all this, and may dispose of his prrperty accordingly." Miss Skipwith sighed. " Of course he is aware of it," she answered, " but Wilfred also is headstrong in his own way ; nobody can dictate to him. He will do what he thinks right ; and just now, I am afraid, he does not think it would be right to pass over his son. Morton, knowing how ill his father is, has come down hereto show how well he can behave. Unfortunately he has few opportunities of behaving badly in a place such as this. Still, he is very rude and disagreeable ; that, I suppose, he can't help being." " I think," said Mark, smiling, " that the young lady's chances looks promising." ** Ah, but there are complications. She has a cousin, an officer in a cavalry regiment, whom my brother-in-law has virtually adopted, and who is at present staying with us on leave. I daresay you can guess what his ambition is, and the worst of it is that Wilfred is quite inclined to encourage him. Wilfrid is like most men ; he can't believe that a woman can safely be entrusted with authority ; and though he has never said so, I know perfectly well that MISADVENTURE. 66 :#- nothing would please him more than to see Archie married to Cicely. Then, I think, he would probably make Archie his heir." •* And would that be such a very bad arrangement ? " " First-cousin marriages are always a bad arrange- ment," said Miss Skipwith, decisively ; •• but setting that aside, the arrangement would be bad because it would make Cicely unhappy. She has always been accustomed to rule ; she wouldn't understand how to play second fiddle. 1 would rather that she had to leave Abbotsport altogether than that she would remain here in a subordinate position. Added to which, I don't see why that young man should have everything his own way. It isn't as if he were worthy to tie Cicely's shoe-strings." "What does she herself think about it?" Mark in- quired. ** In England that is always an important question, I believe." Miss Skipwith replied, that that was, no doubt, a very important question, but that she was unable to answer it. All she knew was that Cicely seemed to like being with him, and that they were together a great deal more than she, for her part, thought desirable or even proper. " But people's ideas have changed so much since I was young,' she added sorrowfully. " This very afternoon they have gone out in a boat together, which in former tjmes would have been considered quite an impossible thing to do. To be sure they have a third person with them — a young Mr. Dare, who lives near this — but even so I can't think it right. And now if there is too much sea for them to get into the harbour they may be out half the night, for any- thing that we can do to prevent it." It appeared, indeed, that Miss Skipwith was far more disquieted upon the score of propriety than upon that of physical risk ; and this surprised her companion, because the nearer he drew to the sea the more he became aware that dirty weather was setting in. When they had passed u^ :. ;i the steep, narrow street of the village and had reached the jetty, they found themselves in the midst ot a group of exp' ienced persons who were unanimously of opinion thai ihe lugger which could be seen running before the wind towards the harbour's mouth was attempting a hazardous feat. It was now blowing something like half ■ ■ 'V 'I' \ f 1 \l r I 1 i r » I 't!J jm h:. 66 MISADVENTURE. a gale, and the entrance of the harbour, which lay be- tween the wooden jetty and the concrete breakwater, was marked by an ugly white line of foam where the waves curled and struck. ** Will they be able to get in ? " asked Miss Skipwith anxiously of an ancient mariner in a sou'-wester. " As much as they will, -mum," answered the man. " You may say there is room but you can't say no more. Oh, you ain't no call to be afeard, mum ; they won't be drownded, though they might get a wetting. We'll get 'em ashore safe enough. But with the boat, you see, 'tis different. Once she gets upon that there bar she'll go to pieces for certain. 'Tis v;rong to make light of other men's property in that way, and Coppard ought to have known a deal better than to do such things." " Oh, if that is all, I am sure Mr. Bhgh will be only too happy to pay for the boat," Miss Skipwith declared confidently. Meanwhile the lugger was approaching her destination at a great rate of spc'^d. Presently, the forms and features of all those who were on board were clearly discernible. Bobby Dare, with the tiller in his hand, was standing up, his keen eyes fixed upon the water ahead ; Coppard hold- ing the sheet, was ready to lower the sail at the word of command"; and it is a pity that neither Miss Skipwitli nor Mark Chetwode possessed knowledge enough of sea- manship to appreciate a manoeuvre which elicited murmurs of admiration from their better instructed neighbours. However, when once a thing has been done everyone sees how easy it was to do it, and as soon as the Rover had been brought alongside of the landing-steps, her handiness obtained more praise than Mr. Dare's skill. *• 1 Ad 'ee so, mum," grunted the fisherman in the sou'-wester (who had done rothmg of the sort). " Bless yer 'eart, with a craft like that there a child could make this 'arbour at any tide in any weather." Miss Skipwith said, " Really ? We' , I am very glad to hear it, Vin sure ; it looks to me dreadfully dangerous." She picked her way gingerly down the slippery steps, and began to administer one of the mild remonstrances to her niece which she ventured upon from time to time, much as a man across whose land a right of way has been I 1 MISADVENTURE. 67 established will close his gates once a year, in formal as- sertion of a privilege which has practically ceased to be his. '* My dear Cicely," she exclaimed, " what a fright you have given us ; you really should think a little more of what you are doing, and — and of other people's feelings. You, I daresay, would not have thought it very good fun either for your father or for me to be left for hours in un- certainty as to whether you were alive or dead. I should have thought," added the old lady severely, " that Mr. Archibald might have remembered that, even if you forgot it." ... When Miss Skipwith wished to be especially impressive it was her habit to speak of Archie as Mr. Archibald. She was perhaps aware that the designation irritated him. " Well, we haven't remained out half through the night, you see. Aunt Susan," said Cicely, composedly ; " so tliat there is no occasion to blame anybody. At all events, it would be most unjust to blame poor Archie, because no- body could have been more anxious than he was to get in- to harbour again. In fact, he simply insisted upon our risking our lives to do it." Having thus, as it were, fired right and left with effect, Miss Bligh proceeded to disembark. Declining the proffered assistance of her two admirers, she laid her hand for an instant upon the shoulder of old Coppard, who was clinging to the jetty with his boathook, and sprang lightly out on the steps. But the steps were overgrown with sea- weed, and so it came to pass that this self-rehant young lady's foot slipped, and that she would have fallen ignobly upon her nose, but for a pair of arms which were oppor- tunely stretched out to save her. These she instinctively clutched until she had recovered her balance, when she became aware that they belonged to a young man whom she had never seen before, and who took offhis hat, which he held for a moment in his hand, instead of at once re- placing it after the English fashion. " I beg your pardon," he said. " It is I who ought to beg yours," answered Cicely, laughing. " I wonder I didn't knock you down." Cicely did not know the meaning of the word shyness. She was as much at her ease with a total stranger as with an intimate friend, and this was one of her idiosyncrasies iKi V.'i'. \i ft' I ; 1 ,i k 68 MISADVENTURE. which her aunt never quite knew whether to admire or to deprecate. " Cicely, my dear," said the old lady, " let me introduce Mi . Chetwode, of whom you have often heard your father speak. Mr. Chetwode very kindly gave me permission to walk through his grounds just now." The young man's hat was once more raised, while Cicely bestowed a little bow and a scrutinising gaze upon him. She was much interested in the owner of Upton Chet- wode, and had felt no slight anxiety to see what manner of man he was. Her first impression — and, like all women, she attached great imp'Oftance to first impressions — was decidedly favourable. Handsome he could hardly be called ; perhaps too, on closer inspection, his face was somewhat older than his figure ; but he had undoubtedly the appearance of a gentleman, and what was better still was that he had not at all the appearance of an ordinary English gentleman. His colourless, expressionless face invited interrogation. All sorts of things might be hidden behind that seemingly impenetrable mask, which a young woman of inquiring bent might find amusement in calling forth. It is even possible that, without being aware of it, Miss Bligh may have been a trifle piqued by the absence of that tribute of frank admiration which she was accus- tomed to detect in the eyes of all men and to accept as her due. He shrugged his shoulders slightly. •' I've come to my house," he replied. *• At present I can't say that I feel very much at home there." He spoke with just the faintest suspicion of a foreign accent, and Cicely noticed that his boots and gloves (had he any business to be wearing gloves at all ?) were not of English make, although the rest of his costume was. " Oh, but you must learn to feel at home here," she declared. " Aren't you proud of being an Enghshman ? You ought to be, you know." '* I will try to be as proud as I ought to be," he answered gravely. " If you will kindly tell me the way to set about it. How should one begin ? " During the above interchange of remarks the whole party had been moving along the jetty, and it now MISADVENTUEE. 69 ^. *-«f : occurred to Cicely that conversation might be carried on with less risk oi interruption if one member of it were got rid of Accordingly she turned round and extended her hand to the selected victim, saying, '* Good-night, Bobby, and many thanks for the sail. Don't forget to give my love to your sisters." ♦' Oh, I'll walk part of the way home with you, if you don't mind," said poor Bobby, who was in no such hurry to be dismissed. " But I do mind very much indeed ; and Sir George will mind very much indeed if you are late for dinner. Do you know what ti ne it is ? You will only just save your- self, even if you run." Now Sir George Dare, who never waited dinner for anybody, would assuredly not have dreamt of waiting for this young son of his ; but Bobby was too completely under the sway of the imperious Cicely to dispute her commands. He took his leave sadly and submissively ; and then she observed, " As for you, Mr. Chetwode, your way is the same as ours, for some little distance at all events." '* Indeed ! " he said ; •* that is very fortunate for me." But he did not speak as if he felt her companionship to be any great privilege, and she glanced at him with an innocent surprise at his indifference which almost made him laugh. " Now tell me," said he, to account for the smile which he could not altogether suppress, " how I am to convert myself into a good John Bull. Will it be easy, do you thmk ? " She frowned slightly. " Of course it will not be easy," she answered, " if you prefer being a foreigner ; but really that seems to me a very odd sort of taste to have. Be- cause, you see, you are an Englis unan." " More or less of one." " Why, your family is English ; everybody belongs to his father's family. I know j'ou have been brought up in Russia, but that's only an accident. You wouldn't have been a cannibal if you had been brought up in the Fiji Islands, I hope." *' I venture to hope not. Still there is no saying to what lengths one may be carried by the influence of early associations. I have no reason to love England, whereas si \ * H u. i '41 X r * -4 n W 76 MtSADVENTURti. I have — or at least I suppose I ought to have — many rea- sons for loving Russia, where most of my friends and all my relations reside." *' Well," said Cicely, with fine liberality, " there is something in that, no doubt. At the same time, I shouldn't care to be neither the one thing nor the other, if I were you. Being English, and having property in England, I should wish to live on my property and do the best I could for it. And most likely that is just what you do wish, or you wouldn't have come home." Mark's grave iace was lighted up for an instant by a smile, and he glanced at the girl with more interest than he had hitherto displayed in her. " Possibly you are right," he answered ; " Possibly (hat is whai 1 want, but really I am not very sure about it. My property, as you know, has shrunk to such small dimensions that 1 should hardly find employment in look- ing after it, and my actual reason for coming here was the very simple one that an empty house is too expensive a luxury foi me." " You might quite well live here without being at home all the year round," said the girl, " and as for employ- ment, a country gentleman need never be without that." ' And straightway she began to point out to him how he might occupy his time agreeably to himself and profitably to his neighbours. She had not the most distant compre- hension of the man to whom she was talking ; her ideas of life and happiness and duty were necessarily circum- scribed, but she had perfect confidence in their accuracy, and, such as they were, she expressed them well. As for Mark, he was not particularly interested in her ideas, but he became a good deal interested in her, and it was with unaffected regret that he wished her good-bye on being informed that the point at which their paths diverged had been reached. He did not, however, offer to walk any further than that point, nor did he respond, save by an inarticulate murmur, to Miss Bligh's expressed hope that they might meet again before long. " I think he is rather queer, and rather nice," was the verdict which his unusual behaviour elicited from Cicely after he had withdrawn. But Archie, who during all this time had been rele- MISADVENTURE. 71 gated to the background, and whose temper had not been improved by the enforced society of Miss Skipwith, said : " I don't know so much about his being nice ; he's queer enough for anything. One can forgive a French- man for trying to look like an Englishman, though of course he never succeeds ; but there must be something very wrong indeed about an Englishman who tries to look like a. Frenchman — especially when he does succeed." " Oh, I daresay he will learn better things in time," answered Cicely. " In iact," she added demurely, ♦* I feel sure he will, because I mean to take him in hand." And the disgusted grunt with which this announce- ment was received was doubtless a source of amusement and gratification to her. W'[ UJJ til CHAPTER IX. MORTON REPRESENTS THE FAMILY. It seemed that Miss Skipwith could not say enough in praise of Mr. Chetwode that evening. He was clever, he W3S distinguished, he had a singular charm of manner ; she had not for a long time met anyone who had so im- pressed her with a sense of his superiority to the common run of men. She prattled on in this way both before and in the course of dinner ; and her brother-in-law could not imagine why, until it dawned upon him that this artless schemer proposed to set the new-comer up as a counter attraction to Archie. That discovery tickled him, and he led her on by a few careless, disparaging observations, wh'ch eventually had the effect of drawing his daughter into the arena. " He may not be such a black swan as Aunt Susan makes him out ; but at all events he is our nearest neigh- bour, and of course he must be called upon," said Cicely, decidedly. - " It is always comforting to have one's duty set before one in such plain language," remarked Mr. Bligh. " The only question is, who is to call upon him ? / can't, because I have no legs ; and I'm afraid conventionalitv would h: i m Hi fl;ri' m mill »y> 72 MISADVENTURE. hardly allow of your doing it, my dear. Would the emerg- ency be met by my sending a groom over with my card, do you think ? " Cicely shook her head. *• Much too formal," said she. " He wouldn't like it ; he would take it as an intimation that you were willing to acknowledge him, but didn't care about cultivating him." ** Do I care about cultivating him ? " inquired Mr. Bligh. *' You know you do," repJ'ed his daughter, tranquilly ; " you know you are unhappy in your mind about that land of his, and you would like to have a chance of ex- plaining to him that it isn't your fault that you are in possession of it." " If I know myself," said Mr. Bligh — " but possibly I don't know myself — that is quite the last subject which I should wish to discuss with him. My title, I am assured, is a perfectly good title, legitimately acquired. If he thinks differently, he can go to law about it ; but I doubt whether he and I should become better friends by talking the matter over." * " Oh, you will talk the matter over," said Cicely, con- fidently. " He has taken up a wrong view of it, and you will have to set him right. Only there is a little difficulty about the first step, I admit. How would it do to write and ask him to dine ? " " I should not venture to take such a liberty," Mr. Bligh declared ; and Miss Skipwith, who was very punc- tilious, was also of opinion that that suggestion was inadmissible. •' My dear," said she, " there must be a visit, and the visit must be returned, before any invitation can be sent." •' Well, then," said Cicely, " perhaps Archie might go, and take papa's card with him." Archie looked recalcitrant ; but before he could open his lips Morton had thrown himself into the breach. " It seems to me," observed the latter languidly, *' that I am marked out by fate as the proper person to under- take this act of social servitude. At what time do you suppose that your friend goes out for a walk. Cicely ? At four o'clock ? " ICESADVENTUBE. 73 Cicely looked doubtfully at her brother. She could hardly dispute his right to represent the head of the family, but she was pretty sure that he did not entertain the friendly and neighbourly sentiments of the head of the family, and she thought it very likely that he would be rude to Mr. Chetwode. •* I know nothing about his habits," she said ; *• but I hope he may be out when you call." •* Thanks, very much ; so do I. Perhaps you hope that for his sake, though, not for mine." " Well, for your sake, and for his sake, and for every- body's sake. I don't think you would get on particularly well toget^ er, and I want him to like us." For some reason or other this remark appeared to amuse Morton, who began to laugh, and who laughed more heartily when he noticed the frown on Archie's brow. " Oh, you needn't be afraid," he returned ; " he shall like us. Not me as an individual, perhaps — that would be a little too much to hope for — but he shall like us col- lectively, and when he has dined here I have no doubt that he will like you in particular. That, however, will naturally depend upon yourself. As for me, I will put on my best clothes and my best manners to-morrow after- noon, and I humbly trust that I may not disgrace the family." Morton was as good as his word. After luncheon on the following day he set out on foot for Upton Chetwode, much though he disliked pedestrian exercise. There was, however, one thing that he disliked even more, which was getting upon the back of a horse ; and Miss Skipwith had appropriated the carriage. For that matter, the walk was not a disagreeable one, being over grass or footpaths the whole way, and he had plenty of interesting reflections to keep him company. Since his arrival at the Priory Morton Bligh had been somewhat dejected in mind. His presence under his father's roof was, of course, due to a motive which every- body had divined, and which he himself had decided that it would be stupid and clumsy to conceal. His father was going to die ; he was his father's natural and legitimate heir, and it was necessary for him to sliovr that, whatever \^. ( fv t 'U f >'; (■ii i: > r ', :-i Lk- 74 MISADVENTURE. lie might be, or have been, he could live an outwardly decent and respectable life. It was necessary, he thought, for him to do this, because he believed his father to be one of those scrupulous persons who always set duty above inclination, and because he could form a tolerably shrewd guess what Mr. Bligh's inclinations were. But his father's demeanour had puzzled him. Mr. Bligh had been per- fectly good-humoured, tolerant, and amiable, had not repulsed him, nor made the faintest allusion to incidents which could not have been alluded to without embarrass- ment ; yet not a word had been spoken as to the manage- ment of the^property, or as to any of the topics to which a I lying man might be expected to refer in conversation with his successor. It was plain — or so, at all events, Morton feared — that the dying man's will had not yet been signed. Now there was very little probability that Cicely would be placed in her brother's shoes. One dcss not replace a son by a daughter, and Morton himself had I contempt for women which he suspected his father of sharing to a considerable extent. But doubtless a nephew who has married your only f ughter and who bears your own name may, at a pinch, be made to do duty for a son who lias been weighed in the balance and found wanting. This was what troubled Morton. He saw, and could not help seeing — even Miss Skipwith saw it — that Archie was receiving every encouragement to propose to Cicely ; he saw, what perhaps Miss Skipwith was too blinded by pre- judice to see, that the young soldier had fallen desperately in love with his cousin ; and, for his own part, he was only too well aware that nobody would pity him if he were to receive a substantial money legacy instead of his birthright. His record, in truth, was shockingly bad. It was not only that he had led a life of idle dissipation, and that his debts had had to be paid for him more than once ; it was not only that he had gone his own way, taking no notice of his father and sister, and never so much as writing a letter to them from year's end to year's end ; these are ofrences which may be pardoned. But (being by no means devoid of brains, and luiving a certain mischievous bent of mind) he had at one time amused himself by reading up the indictments which have been brought by learned men ^^ MISADVENTURE. /.) against accepted systems of theology, and though he was in reahty no scholar, he had written articles in advanced reviews which had gained for him a certain notoriety. That had been a great mistake, and he was very sorry now that he had committed it, because, as a matter of fact, he did not care two straws what mankind at large might be pleased to believe in and worship. However, there it was in black and white, and there was no getting out of it. Worse things, moreover, than that might be said of him. London society in these days has not the name of being over-squeamish ; yet there were many men and many women in London who would not be seen speaking to Morton Bligh. And so the long and short of it was, that if by any means Cicely could be prevented from marrying Archie, that end must be accomplished. Therefore Morton was on his way to call upon Mark Chetwode, in whom he had observed with satisfaction that his sister's interest had been powerfully aroused. Archie, it might be assumed, would not be made Mr. Bligh's heir if he did not marry Cicely ; Mark Chetwode would surely not be raised to that enviable position if he did. And Chetwode was poor, and Cicely was not only pretty but would have a fortune of thirty or forty thousand pounds at least. The solitary denizen of Upton Chetwode was smokinuj a cigarette in his comfortless dining-room when his visitor was announced. After a somewhat formal greeting, he expressed a hope that the latter did not mind the smell of tobacco, to which Morton replied that he would be grate- ful if he too might be allowed to smoke. A man who will smoke with you is by that very fact to some extent a companionable creature, and Morton's manners were pleasant enough when he took the trouble to make them so. Mark rather liked the man, though (as he was accustomed to scrutinise men and motives) it did not take him very long to discover that there was some unavowed reason for this display of neighbourly courtesy. Morton, it should be remembered, had deplorable nerves. Without being precisely a glutton or a sot, he had never- tlieless for many years habitually eaten and drunk mor(i than was cood for him, besides having taken very little ex- ercise ; and the consequence was that when he attempted i^'' h ' V ■ ■ i m' : I 76 MISADVENTURE. I. to be artful, he speedily made his aims evident to a practised observer. Mark, cold, temperate, and constitu- tionally suspicious, was a great deal more than a match for him. They discussed (for what else could they be,<,nn by discussing ?) local topics and local means of passing the time ; Morton avowed his abhorrence of the country and was pleased to learn that his host was no great lover of field sports. " You'll be bored to death down here," he said ; " that's a matter of course. But, perhaps, if you're inclined to be charitable, you'll sometimes come over to the Priory and relieve our chronic boredom. I haven't any inducement to offer you beyond a sincere welcome and the governor's Madeira, which I can conscientiously praise. By the way, he sent you all sorts of messages and apologies. He would have come to pay his respects to you in person, but he never gets beyond the garden now, as I daresay you have heard from my old aunt. You have won Aunt Susan's heart, I must tell you ; and as for Cicely — well, I suppose it wouldn't be proper to say that she has lost her heart to you," laughed Morton ; " but anyhow she is very anxious to see more of you. Won't you come and dine quietly some evening ? " Mark said what was polite and necessary in reply. He began in a casual, indifferent way to put indirect ques- tions ; also he rang the bell, and ordered brandy and sodr, of which his guest was pleased to partake freely ; and so, in about twenty minutes, he found out all he wanted to know. That Morton was not upon the best of terms with his father, that he was in mortal dread of being ousted by his cousin Archie, and that he was only sojourning at the Priory now in the hope of bringing personal influence to bear against the interloper — all this was elicited, without effort on the one side or consciousness of self-betrayal on the other, and all doubt as to the nature of Morton's scheme was removed when that ingenuous plotter re- marked : — •' I assure you that I don't half like the idea of having to spend the rest of my life in this neighbourhood ; but it will have to come to that, I expect. And I shall be all alone too ; for it isn't over and above likely that my sister will care to stay and keep house for me. She will have a f j' MISADVENTURE. 77 fortune of her own — something like fifty thousand pounds, probably." (For Morton thought there could be no harm in adding a trifle of £"10,000 or so to his mental estimate.) " Your cousin is a very good-looking young man," said Mark, with his faint smile, and his slight foreign accent. '* I should like to be your cousin." '• I don't call him good-looking ; and he's as stupid as an owl," returned Morton. '• Why should you want to change places with him ? " '• Oh, only a fancy, which perhaps it is impertinent in me to mention. Seeing them together, it struck me that he was upon terms of something more than friendship with your sister, that was all. So much beauty, and £"50,000 besides — you must admit that he is enviable." *' I think," said Morton, who had swallowed two rather strong glasses of brandy and soda, •• that if I were ten years younger, and if I admired a girl with Cicely's ad- vantages, I should be no more afraid of such a fellow as Archie than I should be afraid ofthe curate or the doctor." Having delivered himself of this statement with much impressiveness, he rose to depart. Mark's speech had been unquestionably impertinent— even very imper<-inent ; but Morton did not resent it. On the contrary he was quite pleased to have been furnished with an opportunity of as- serting so unequivocally that Archie was no formidable antagonist. Thus it is that the reasoning powers of the brain become enfeebled when the other organs of the body are not kept in a proper state of subjection. '* You will come to dinner, then, some day soon, won t you ? " he said, with a slight thickness of utterance, as he held out his limp little hand, " I'll tell Cicely to send you a formal invitation, though you won't be asked to a formal party. I believe we do give formal dinner-parties from time to time, but we won't be so brutal as to include you among our victims." When he had gone, Mark laughed a little and walked once or twice up and down the room ; and then taking up his pen, resumed the letter which had been interrupted by the entrance of the visitor. " It seems to me," he wrote, " that I am in a fair way towards carrying out your benevolent programme. The brother of the young lady whom you were so kind as tg \>m ■'I ' ■■ '''1 111 •'4 ; u ti;!. I ' Ell m! 78 MISADVKNTLMIE. ;'l, select for my future partner thvoiif^'h life has just been call- ing here, and lias hinted broadl)^ — possibly a little too broadly — that he would be charmed to welcome me as his brother-in-law. Naturally he has his reasons; he is not quite so disinterested as you are. He thinks that his father wishes to bring about a marriage between Miss Cicely (that, I believe, is her name) and a young cousin of whom old Mr. Wingfield spoke to me, and whom I lorget whether I mentioned to you or not. In the case of that project succeeding, the young cousin, it seems, would be made heir to the entire property ; but it is not considered likely th^ any other son-in-law than the cousin would be preferred before the heir-apparent. Consequently I am implored to come forward, and a bribeof £50,000 is offered to me by way of inducement. Would you believe that, poor as I am, I hesitate to take advantage of this generous suggestion ? 1 am sure you would not believe it if you saw Miss Bligh, who happens to be quite pretty and agree- able, and that it would be difficult to convince you how little her charms have to say to the matter. Do you think £■50,000 a very large sum of money ? In all truth and candour, I think liberty is worth more than that ; but I am aware that upon such points your ideas dififer from mine." Having wound up his letter and addressed it to Madame Souravieff, he put on his hat and walked down to the iron railing which divided the garden from the park. Upon this he dropped his arms, and so stood for a long time, re- volving many considerations in his mind. It was quite true that a bribe of £50,000 hardly tempted him, welcome though such a supply of hard cash would have been to a man in his straitened circumstances ; it was also true that Cicely's personal attractions had left him cold. If you are not in love with a woman, what can it signify whether she is pretty or ugly ? But there was one thing he cared about a good deal, and always rather wondered at himself lor caring about, which was the recovering of the lands of which he considered that he had been wrongfully dis- poss( ssed. No one can relinquish without something of a pang and a wrench the religious faith in which he has been brought up ; and in much the same way Mark Chetwode found it impossible to free himself from the impressions which had been dinned into his e^^s froin his earliest MISADVENTURE. w childhood. Legally speaking he might have no sort of case against these prosperous, wealthy, condescending Blighs, but he could not help longing to be avenged upon them, to get the better of them : and if this desire could not be satisfied in one way, perhaps it might be in an- other. To get the better of the debilitated creature who had just left him would surely be a task of no great diffi- culty ; and as to the cousin, he appeared to be a very commonplace person. There remained Mr. Bligh, with whom, of course, it would be needful to ingratiate oneself; but, as far as could be gathered from report, Mr. Bligh was only too eager to find some heir who might decently be substituted for his son. Was the stake worth playing for ? Mark eventually decided that it wis ; and, oddly enough, what helped him towards this deci ion was his conviction that if ever success should seem to be within his reach, he would have no more vehement opponent to contend against than Madame Souravieff. CHAPTER X. CICELY HAS POOR SPORT. In these days, huntmg ladies are so numerous that it is scarcely more necessary to apologise for them than George III. thought it necessary to write an apology for the Bible. Nevertheless, there still remain certain old-fashioned people who think that a woman is out of her place in the hunting-field, and of these Miss Skipwith was one. She had never felt able to approve of her niece following the hounds, and although she had never been able to prevent her niece from doing that, or anything else which the self- willed young woman in question intended to do, she con- sidered herself bound to uphold her testimony from time to time — that is, as often as the hounds met within man- ageable distance of the Priory. And it is needless to add that the escort of Archie Bligh did not present itself to her in the light of a mitigating circumstance. But what could she do when the girl's own father backed her up, and re- fused to see the slightest impropriety in her enjoying what f i II ■li , 'I 3| ■I . \'\. \ n -: 1 1 >^ ,_ifc.jk do MiSADVrNTURE. . J" i she called a " good healthy gallop " in the company of her cousin ? Mr. Bligh had himself been an ardent sportsman until his health had broken down ; he had perhaps a some- what exaggerated admiration for the virtues which sport, combined with a spice of danger, brings into prominence ; and possibly he did not sufficiently recognise that, although braver}'^ may be a very fine thing, the kind of bravery which life demands of women is of a very different class from that which it demands of men. And so, when the hounds met at Upton Mill, it was altogether useless for Miss Skipwith to try and defraud Cicely and Archie of a happy day. " My dear Susan," said Mr. Bligh, in response to certain oft-repeated remonstrances of hers, " they mean to be there, and it is my belief that neither you nor I can hold them back by anything short of hamstringing every horse in the stables ; to which I am not prepared to con- sent. You need not be so alarmed ; they won't '■ But of course he could not help troubling his head about her, and although he admired her seat and her hands, he was vexed and surprised that his uncle should have given her such a mount. As a matter of fact, Mr. Bligh, who did not himself know the meaning of the word fear, had perfect confidence in Cicely's skill, and would have trusted her with any horse in his stables. At the meet, which was in a central locality, a great concourse of people was assembled. There was young Lord Shoreham, the M.F.H., whose language was apt to be more emphatic than choice, and of whom everbody stood in awe ; there was Sir George Dare, a ruddy- cheeked, white-whiskered gentleman, with a good-hum- oured smile, and a high, squeaky voice ; there, too, was Bobby, looking somewhat ill-at-ease upon the fiddle- headed, raw-boned steed which had been assigned to him. Bobby was not at all fond of hunting, and every time he went out he did so with the full assurance that he carried his life in his hands. That risk, however, he was always willing, like a true-born British sailor, to accept, and he was now about to imperil hib neck with more or less cheer- fulness upon the ofF-chan^'e of earning Cicely's approval. He rode up to her side as soon as she appeared upon the scene, although, while according him a smiling greeting, she warned him not to approach too closely. '* Keep clear of the mare's heels," she said, as, not- withstanding her signal, he drew nearer ; " otherwise you may get a broken leg before you know where you are." But Bobby, who thought he was in much more danger of getting a broken heart, chose to disregard this caution. His father had engaged Archie in conversation, so that presently he had the privilege of riding with Miss Bligh to the covert-side, and hearing iiom her own lips that she did not want to have anything more to do with her cousin. " I know that he is possessed with the idea that he is in charge of me," she said ; " and I am sure he will keep looking over his shoulder the whole time — which will exasperate me beyond all bearing. Considering that I know every 37ard of the country, and he hasn't ridden over it since he was a boy of sixteen, I really think he would do more wisely to mind his own business, and leave me to mind mine." ( I ( c c 1 1 c h h V h q il o "■; if. W. MISADVENTURE. 83 i I Bobby cordially concurred. At the same time he did not quite like the look of Cicely's plunging, bucking mare, and he said with a sigh : " I wish I were capable of tak- ing charge of you ; but it is as much as I shall accomplish to make this brute of mine answer his helm, even if we don't part company altogether, as I daresay we shall before long." He added, in a melancholy voice : " I sup- pose you utterly despise a man who can't ride, don't you r Now, it was true that Cicely thought every man ought to be able to manage a horse. Sailors, no doubt, are to some extent privileged persons, yet she could not help finding any human being who held on by his reins a trifle ric'aculous, and poor Bobby would perhaps have been I)etter advised if he had remained at home that morning. Therefore she left his question unanswered, and after a time he p"^ another one to her : " Are cavalry men always ilyers at ross a country ? " he inquired diffidently. " Really, I can't tell you," she answered, laughing ; " but I don't know why they should be. If Archie sees mon . i !be run than you or I do, he won't have much to brag ;il'' alt. The Dutchman will ask no more of him than to stick to his saddle." Bobby was by no means confident of his own capacitv to comply even with that modest requirement ; but he was was pleased to hear himself bracketed with Cicely, and lie resolved to keep alongside of her if he could. That, how- ever, was a programme which he probably could not, under any circumstances, have carried out, and, as it chanced, he lost sight of her almost immediately after deciding upon it. For scarcely had the covert been drawn when a fox was found and got away, and for ten minutes after that event all control over his own move- ments was taken out of the young sailor's hands. His career, though brief, was glorious. He was borne at a high rate of speed down a steep hill side, he was lifted, to his utter amazement, over three stiff fences, after each of which experiences he found himself with Jiis arms round his horse's neck, and when at length he w;is deposited quite easily and comfortably in a bt^d of rushes, he du! not in the least realise why he was there, until i e became aware of a broad stream in front of him, and came to tiie just mm 84 MISADVENTURE. to attempt impos- concliision that his horse had decHned sibihties. Cicely, meanwhile, had got off badly. Both she and her mare were taken by surprise, and for several hundred yards they were much hampered by the too numerous field. At the first fence the mare jumped short and very nearly landed on her nose. This perhaps roused her not very amiable temper : for no sooner had she recovered herself than she threw up her head and broke clean away. There was nothing to be done but to sit tight and keep cool. Cicely had sense enough and experience enough to know that : also she had enough of both to be aware that she was in imminent danger of a bad fall. The mare, for the time being, had completely lost her senses, and would certainly rush blindly at any obstacle that might lie in her path. She might get over such obstacles or she might not ; anyhow it was hopeless to attempt to steady her. And so it came to pass that Miss Bligh was only prevented by good luck from jumping upon the hounds, and that Lord Shoreham apostrophised her under his breath in terms quite unfit for reproduction. Her heart failed her a little when she saw a great ragged bullfinch before her, which it was scarcely within the bounds of possibility that she could clear without slackening speed, and she made up her mind that the end was at hand. However, she threw up her arm to protect her face, and was hurled through some- how or other, though not without a crash and a jerk which very nearly sent her out of ner saddle. Immediately after this the mare began to falter, and was easily brought to a standstill in the middle of a ploughed field. ** I thought as much," murmured Cicely, as she slipped her foot out of the stirrup and sprang down to the ground ; and a brief examination of her mount showed her that her suspicions had been too well founded. The mare, with starting eyeballs and heaving flanks, was quiet enough now, while from a long jagged wound in her shoulder the blood was dripping slowly. It was very evident that not only could mere be no more hunting for Miss Bligh f.hat day, but thaL one of the best animals in her father's pos- session had been marked for life. This, it will be allowed, was no fault of Cicely's ; but she felt very guilty all the same, and the worst of it was that she could not judgq ■I I m MISADVENTURE. 85 i\ what the extent of the mischief might be. She had no means of binding up the mare's wound, nor could she tell by a hasty inspection whether it was deep or merel}' superficial. All she knew was that it behoved her to lead the sufferer home without further loss of time ; and this she immediately prepared to do, hooking up her riding habit and passing her arm through the bridle. One com- fort was that she was in no danger of being bothered by offers of unskilled assistance ; for Bobby Dare had disap- peared, and on a distant hillside against the sky she could see Archie and his gallant grey sailing along in blissful unconsciousness of everything save the delightful fact that they had shown a clear pair of heels to their competitors. So, perceiving that there was a gate at the corner of the field, she made for it, and was soon on the high road which connects Abbotsport with the county town. Along this road it so chanced that a landed proprietor of the vicinity was at that moment wending his lonely way. He was deeply immersed in thought and his eyes were cast down, so that he did not at once become aware that a lady leading a lame horse had debouched upon the grassy wayside ahead of him. As soon, however, as he did become aware of her he quickened his pace, caught her up and accosted her. *' How do you do. Miss Bligh ? " said he, taking off his hat. *' Why are you on foot ? Have you had an accident ? " Cicely recognized Mr. Chetwode, without much pleas- ure at an encounter which she telt to be mopportune. She wanted to get home and she didn't want to talk. " I'm afraid I have staked my mare," she answered. " Do you know anything about horses ? Perhaps you can tell me whether she is badly hurt or not." It did not seem very likely that this alien had any knowledge of such subjects, and she only put the question to him because she supposed that, being a man, he might feel slighted if she did not pay him the compliment of con- sulting him ; but in truth, Mark, who had always been a lover of horses, possessed some little veterinary skill, and after a brief examination he was able to assure her that the damage done was comparatively trifling. ♦' I do not promise you that no trace of the mishap ,^ m MISADVENTURE. shall remain," said he. " Tlie cut will have to be sewn up, and unluckily it is not a clean cut ; but I think I may safely iiay that the real value of the animal will not be affected, although perhaps the selling value may be." Cicely was relieved and was also decidedly impressed. She came of a sporting family, and although she was personally large-minded enough to admit that a man may be an admirable member of the community and yet not . know a horse from a cow, she could not help thinking him ^a good deal more admirable if he did. She at once /dropped into easy conversation with her companion, relating the particulars of her misadventuire, to which he listened with deferential interest, while he paced slowly by her side. " You ought to hunt," she remarked, after a time. " Why don't you? " " For the best reason in the world," he answered. '* I have no horses, and no money to buy any." Cicely was silent for a moment or two. She had an uncomfortable feeling that although Mr. Chetwode's im- pecuniosity was no fault of hers, he might consider her father in some measure responsible for it. *' But really," she resumed at length, " I don't see how you can go on living here unless you hunt. There is nothing else to be done during the winter, you see. Ex- cept, of course, the shooting, which would help you through :i few months." " Only I can't afford either keepers or pheasants," observed Mark, with a smile. " Perhaps, however, I shall not go on living here." *' You mean that you will let your house again ? " " If I can find anyone sufficiently insane to take it. If I can't . . . ." He shrugged his shoulders and drew down the corners of his mouth expressively. Thereupon Cicely read him a serious lecture. She -ieclared emphatically that it is the plain duty of land- owners, whether rich or poor, to reside upon their land. " A tenant," she said, " can never take the place of the real owner of the soil, nor fulfil half his functions ; " and this assertion she supported by instances and examples. " After all, what will you do if you leave Upton Chet- wode again, I wonder ? " she inquired in conclusion. MISADVENTUBE. 87 " Ah ! " he returned, lifting his eyebrows, " I wonder !" He thought her very pretty, and her confident way of offering her opinion and advice amused him ; but she did not touch his heart. Madame Souravieff" would perhaps have said that he had no heart to be touched. And it may be that Cicely, who, though no flirt, yet was accus- tomed to homage of a kind which this Ftranger showed no inclination to pay her, was a little puzzled and piqued by a failure of which she could not but be conscious : for she certainly took great pains to be pleasant to him, and even went so far as to hint that she could enter into his feelings about those ancestral possessions of his which h?^ passed into other hands. *• Of course it must be horrid for you," she sard, when he had informed her that the subject was rather a sore one with him . " but then if I were you, I think I should set before myself as an object the gettir.^-- of that land back again. It would be something to live for." He laughed. •' But in order to attain that object two things are indispensable — first that the present proprietor should be willing to sell, and secondly that I should have money enough to tempt him. How would you get over those difficulties. Miss Bligh ? " " I don't believe the first is a difficulty at all," she answered. " As for the second, money may be required after fifty fashions. Where there's a will there's a way." She dismissed him at her father's gates, frankly expressing a hope that she might se^ him again soon, and if Mark placed a mistaken mterpretation upon her words and demeanour, it would be hardly fair to blame him. He was not a coxcomb, but he had some excuse for thinking that he understood women, and it did appear to him that he had been invited in pretty plain language to offer him- self as a candidate for the hand of the heiress. But before complying with that invitation it would perhaps be prudent to ascertain whether she really was to be an heiress or not. ^',( ii ,!>1 \h I S8 ^ MISADVENTURE. CHAPTER XI. COPPARD IN TROUBLE. h( D B " Oh, we're quite convinced that you are guilty. We don't (Mitertain any doubt at ail as to that. But we have come i) tiie conclusion that the evidence is insufficient, and therefore you will be discharged this time ; and a very lucky fellow you are to get off, I can tell you — a precious lucky fellow ! Now you take my advice and be very care- ful what you are about in future, because if you are brought up before us again you may not find us so disposed to be lenient." This remarkable illustration of that fine old axiom of English law which declares every man innocent until he has been proved guilty was provided for the delectation of a limited audience by Sir George Dare, who was sitting upon the bench of justice, flanked by several anxious col- leagues. Sir George's colleagues were always a little anxious about him ; because in these evil days one never can be sure that there is not some mischievous busybody at hand taking notes, and it is of course most undesirable that paragraphs should get mto the newspapers which may tend to lessen the respect of the public for the unpaid magistracy. But Sir George cared not two straws for his colleagues or the newspapers or the public, and nothing whatever was to be gained by digging your elbows into his ribs. " What I think I shall say," he was wont to reply when counsels of prudence were offered to him, and if he thought it would do any culprit good to tell him that he was a rascal, although his rascality could not be proved by strict rule of evidence, he never shrank from doing his duty to that culprit. The culprits had no objection, They knew that Sir George was a great deal more fond of scolding than of passing severe sentences, and they knew and cared as little about his law as he did lumself. The prisoner who had been addressed in the terms above-mentioned said : " Thank 'ee, sir," and touched his MISADVENTURK. 80 ?■ ■; f^rey forelock preparatory to resnminfj his position as an honest householder without a stain upon his character. David Coppard thought it no shame to be a poacher, and if he was a notorious thief, he was seldom so designated in his hearing, because of the length and strength of his arms. Behmd his back he was, ot course, liable, like the rest of us, to have unpleasant things said of him by malicious and cowardly persons: but no sensible man deigns to take notice of what may be said behind his back. Coppard was in the habit of borrowing (not stealing, which is a very different thing) the Hnes and nets and lobster-pots of his neighbours. This was an understood thing, and the free- dom was readily pardoned by his neighbours in considera- tion of the borrower's admirable seamanship, which was almost always at their service. As for rabbits, everybody knows what mischief those animals do, and hov/ much more they would do if their numbers were not kept down by the exertions of nocturnal sportsmen. But unfortu- nately there are certain miserable landlubbers whose minds are so warped by prejudice and selfishness that they begin to make a fuss if a man cannot settle his little account for tea and sugar at the end of a year, and who will avail themselves of any faulty pretext that may come handy to get such a man into trouble. Thus it was that Mr. Cop- pard had been subjected to the indignity of arrest upon a charge of petty larceny, and had incurred no small incon- venience in obtaining the acquittal which was his due. It will, perhaps, hardly be believed that anyone could be so mean as to give a fellow-citizen and constant cus- tomer into custody because a trumpery hammer belonging to him had been discovered in the possession of that fellow- citizen, yet this is what bimpkins, the Abbotsport grocer, had done ; and as Coppard trudged homewards nothing seem.ed to him more obvious and just c d essential than that he should take the first opportunity of paying Simpkins out. As for the hammer, he had no doubt made use of it. When a derelict hammer finds its way by some unex- plained means to one's premises, and when one happens, oddly enough, to be in want of such an article at that very time, one naturally makes use of it. Surely the fact of its having a big S branded upon the handle does not saddle a busy man with the responsibility of running round to &4.^ mm 90 MISADVENTURE. 1 I -i, everybody in Abbotsport whose name bej^ins with an S and inquiring if they liave mislaid anything. The magis- trates, at all events, had very properly decided that no such responsibility rested upon Mr. Coppark, and he was free from any feeling of rancour against them. Still the fact remained that he had been very badly treated. So that when, on reaching the high-road, he chanced to encounter Mr. Robert Dare and young Mr. Bligh, he could not rest satisfied with touching his hat to these gentlemen, but must needs impart to them the story of his wrongs. " A hunjust charge ; that's where 'tis, you see, sir," said he, fixing his eye on Bobby, who looked the more sympathetic of the two. " I can't get no remedy so they tell me ; but it do come hard on a workin' man to be de- prived of two day's earnings, not to mention the missus's bad temper, which I shall be sure to suffer from it soon as ever I get 'ome. I couldn't estimate this job at a farthing less than ten shillings out o' my pocket, sir." Bobby's finger and and thumb were at once inserted into his own. Bobby had a sneaking affection for old Coppard, though he was quite as well aware as his father that Coppard's character would not bear too close investi- gation. But Archie, who had no foolish predilections of the kind, and who was in a bad humour into the bargain, said : — ** It strikes me that you have not much to complain about, my friend. People who are found in possession of stolen goods don't as a general rule get off scot-free, and I rather suspect that if I had been upon the bench you wouldn't have been at liberty at this moment." Coppard bent his shaggy brows and from beneath them shot an angry glance at the speaker. " Then, sir," said he " I'm 'umbly;thankful as you're not upon the bench now, nor likely to be. Nor likely to be," he added with emphasis, while he pocketed Bobby's half-sovereign, saying : — " Thank 'ee kindly, Cap'en, and 'twill be a dooty and a pleasure to me to drink your good 'ealth. Likewise that of Sir George and all true gentlemen ; which there ain't a many of 'em left, sir." " Well, don't drink our healths more than once or twice, you know, Coppard," returned Bobby, laughing. MISADVENTURE. 01 " He'll drink as long as he has any money to spend on drink, you may be sure." said Archie, wlien the two young men had resumed their walk. " What an ass you are to tip such an old ruffian ! You're only stimulating the liquor traffic, and doing him a great deal more harm than good." This being in all probability true, Bobby remained meekly -ilent. From the days when they had been boys together he had always been accustomed to be called an ass by Archie, and bad always felt that the accusation was justified by facts. He had no sort of admiration for him- self, while he had a great admiration for his companion, mingled with such envy as an honest man may entertain of one who has ever surpassed him in those attributes which are apt to excite general admiration. Wandering towards Abbotsport that morning, with a secret hope of meeting Cicely, he had met her cousin instead, and having been informed by the latter that Miss Bligh was spending the day at the Rectory, had generously invited him to come home to luncheon. This invitation Archie had accepted after a moment's hesitation. He did not want to be bored by the numerous Miss Dares, but he was still less desirous of returnmg to the Priory and struggling to keep upon terms of civility with Morton while deprived of Cicely's restraining influence ; and Cicely had given him to understand that she had parish matters to talk over with Mrs. Lowndes which would keep her occupied until at least the middle of the afternoon. " I hear you were in at the death the other day," re- marked Bobby after a pause. ** Oh, yes," answered the other, in a somewhat dissatis- fied voice ; '* I couldn't have helped it unless I had tried. I certainly should have tried if I had known my cousin had come to grief ; but I lost sight of her and took it for granted that her mare had refused the brook. What be- came of you ? " " Well, I can hardly tell you," replied Bobby. "After a bit I found myself standing on my head, and then I had a great piece of work to catch my brute of a horse. When I did catch him, I climbed up on his back and went home. It didn't occur to me that Miss Bhgh might be in need of assistance." *' She wasn't in need of any assistance that you could T IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) S^ 1.0 I.I 1.25 '■' m ■' 132 Uk m 22 2.0 1-4 IIIIII.6 V] <^ /}. m /a ^c^: A V 0;:f Photographic Sciences Corporation ^ ♦■^^ iV s ^^^ o % V c^ '^J^ % <^ 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY 14580 (716) 872-4503 '% V^ MISADVENTURE. V i n have given her," responded Archie, rather unkindly. " A man who had known what he was about might have changed the saddles and saved her a long walk, that's all. As it happened, she fell in w'th that fellow Chetwode, who, she says, set her mind at ease. Though how he could have set her mind at ease without telling a pretty big cram I don't know, considering that the mare is marked for life." Instowe, the residence of Sir George Dare, was a large, rambling white house of no architectural pretensions. That it was large was a fortunate circumstance, seeing that it corresponded in that respect with Sir George's family. Sir George was the father of five sons and six daughters. The former were all earning their living or almost earning it, ;n various professions, and only one of them, Bobby, was now at home ; but the latter remained under the paternal roof, and Lady Dare feared that there was every possibility of their remaining there permanently, because it was useless to shut one's eyes to the fact that they were not pretty. Plain they could not fairly be called ; but in a county cruelly denuded of bachelors there is little chance for girls who have only just escaped being plain, and as for seasons in London, Sir George declared that once in three years was the very utmost that his resources could be made to meet. Consequently Lady Dare was a little peevish at ttmes. She received the unexpected guest with a good deal of friendliness ; and Archie, who had known the stout, grey- haired haraseed-looking woman all his life, and had always been rather of a favourite of hers, was put into somewhat better humour by her cordiality. Archie, after all, was unmarried, and certain to be pretty well provided for by his rich uncle. It was said, to be sure, that he was smitten with his cousin ; but that did not at all prove that his cousin was smitten with him, and the most unlikely events are for ever occurring. Lady Dare would have thought it very wrong and very foolish to show any lack of civility to the young soldier ; nor v/ere the six Misses Dare (whose ages ranged from seventeen to eight-and-twenty) remiss in welcoming this addition to the family luncheon -party. Good-humoured, rosy-faced Sir George, who bustled m just as the big bell on the top of the house was set going, was MISADVENTURE. 98 quite as hearty and much more disintert-^ted. Sir George reposed his trust in Providence, and imagined that if his daughters were destined to marry, the right man would turn up at the right time. He entertained no sort of hope of Archie BHgh, who, for his part, he sincerely trusted might marry Cicely and oust that worse than useless creature, Morton. " Well," he said, as soon as he had taken his place at the head of the table and had commenced operations upon the joint before him, " we let off your friend Coppard this morning, Bobby. Not that he deserved it. There isn't a more poaching, thieving vagabond in these parts, and so I've told him scores of times. Much he cares what one tells him I Still the rascal has a wife and family." •• He has a great respect for you. Sir George," remarked Archie. " We met him on our way here, and Bobby gave him half a sovereign, which he said he would expend in drinking your health." "The devil he did!" ejaculated Sir George. "Con- found the fellow ! Why I gave him half-a-crown myself to compensate him for his loss of time ; and quite enough too. I tell you what it is, Bobby, if you're going to behave in this way, the sooner you get afloat again the better. Half-a- sovereign for stealing a hammer! At that rate the next time he helps himself to my pheasants he'll expect a five-pound note, I suppose." " And very likely get it," remarked the eldest Miss Dare, who was credited by her family with a great deal of practical common sense. " Bobby," she continued, " may be excused ; he knows no better. But really, papa, I don't understand why you gave Coppard that half-crown." " My dear, I have told you," replied Sir George. " The man had lost a day's work ; and after all it was a trump- ery charge. Very shabby of Simpkins, in my opinion, and I shall certainly let him know what I think of him." " I wish you would mention to him at the same time that he systematically sends us short measure of every- thing," said Lady Dare. '* One gets one's groceries from the local man because it is one's duty, and '^ne submits to their being very bad and very dear ; but it is a little too much that he should swindle us into the bargain." The conversation after this turned chiefly upon the <■ i'\ I ..AJk 04 Misadventure. ii ) J' misdeeds of Simpkins and others, and was utterly uninter esting to Archie, who ate his mutton in silence and wished himself away. Nor was he much better pleased when the topic of Lady Dare's annual ball, which was appointed to take place shortly, was introduced. He was obli<(ed to say that he would be delighted to attend that festivity, but he inwardly resolved that his presence should dc conditional upon that of Cicely, which he knew from her own lips to be as yet an uncertain factor. But Lady Dare was not so well informed. •' I daresay," she remarked graciously, "that we may trust Cicely to see that you do not fail us. I haven't yet sent a card to your cousin Morton," she added in a dubious tone. " Do you think he would come ? " " I'm sure he would if he suspected you didn't want him," said Archie. *' Of course you don't want him." •• Well, under all the circumstances " began Lady Dare. But the circumstances could not be discussed before her daughters, so she left her sentence unfinished. " Don't forget to ask Chetwode, by the way," called out Sir George from the other end of the table. *• I rode over to call upon him the other day, but he wasn't at iionie. You've seen him, I suppose, Archie ? " " Oh, yes, several times," answered Archie. '* He was d ning witii us last night." " Was he really ? I'm very glad to hear that. There was an estrangement, you know, in his father's time — (luite uncalled for —and I was afraid this young man miglit kec p it up. And what is he like, eh ? Pleasant sort of fellow ? " " I should think most people would call hmi so," Archie was generous enough to reply ; " I haven't talked very much to him myself." " He is dreadfully impoverished, I understand," ob- served Lady Dare, with a sigh which was not altogether caused by pity for the impoverished one. " He can't help that, poor beggar! " returned her good- natured husband. " He might have helped it, by all accounts. How- ever,'' added Lady Dare, with another sigh, •' it doesn't concern us." After this there was a long discussion as to who was MISADVENTURE. 95 and who was not coming to the dance, and whether Lord Shoreham would put in an appearance, and whether, if he did, he would behave himself decently, and so forth — all of which was a weariness to Archie, who wanted to get away. He did not get away until the afternoon was well advanced, oecause he was too young to have acquired that art of creating a pause which very few people acquire before middle age, and in his clumsy efforts to emancipate himself he only succeeded in snubbmg everybody. When at length he had taken his leave, the eldest Miss Dare remarked : — *• That young man has far too high an opinion of himself." It was to her brother that she expressed this opinion, and probably she had reason for believing that it would not be unwelcome to him, since she had led him out into the garden to deliver it. But Bobby answered disconsolately, " Oh, I don't know. I shouldn't call him a conceited fellow ; and even if he is, he has some right to be." •♦ Bobby," said Miss Dare, impressively, '• you are an utter goose. Nobody who is worth anything is conceited ; but of course if you will persist in asserting that Archie Bligh is your superior (which he isn't), you will be believed, because it will naturally be supposed that you ought to know. If I were you I should be ashamed of having so Uttle pluck." *♦ My dear Jane, what on earth do you mean ? " inquired Bobby, with round eyes of astonishment. *♦ I mean," answered Miss Dare, composedly, " that everybody knows you are in love with Cicely Bligh, and that I know you are quite good enough for her, and that you will never have the slightest chance of getting what you want unless you are bold enough to declare yourself. Girls don't, as a rule, fall in love with their cousins — and I'm sure there's nothing so desperately fascinatmg about Archie ! — but girls will sometimes marry against their own inclinations to please their fathers. Especially when other people are too stupid or too modest to come forward." Bobby was much surprised. He had been under the impression that his secret had been most carefully kept ; but he was not altogether sorry that his sister, upon whose I 96 MISADVENTURE. insight he placed great reliance, had divined it. " The truth is," said he, presently, " that I've no business to ask any girl to marry me. I haven't got any coin, you see." " But she has — or will have." " That's just it. Putting everything else aside, wouldn't she think it great cheek ora pauper like me to propose to an heiress ? " " No, she wouldn't. She is not an idiot ; and if it is any comfort to you to know that she can read you like a book, you may safely lay that comfort to your soul. Only she will be very apt to despise you if you despise yourself." Poor Bobby heaved a deep sigh and formed a bold resolution. He was not very sanguine, but, after all, his sister might be right, and could hardly be very far wrong. If one is to be rejected, one may as well be rejected in plain terms as by implication. CHAPTER XII. LADY DARE S BALL. It is the nature of mankind, and perhaps (though one must not venture to affirm this too positively) it is even more the nature of womankind, to desire what seen s to be difficult of attainment, and to despise everything that has either been already attained or may be attained without much exertion. That, at all events, seems the most plausible explanation of the fact that Cicely Bligh patron- ized her cousin Archie, and snubbed Bobby Dare, both of whom were very nice young men indeed, whilst she took an almost respectful interest in Mark Chetwode, who was past his first youth, who had never been handsome, and who took very little trouble to please her. Mark, as has been mentioned, had dined at the Priory, and it may be added that he had produced a generally favourable impression there. Mr. Bligh had found him clever and exceptionally well-informed upon questions of European politics ; Miss Skipwith had been much gratified by his courteous and deferential address, and Morton had liked him as much as he could like anybody except himself-^ MISADVENTVUfi. 97 which, to be sure, is not making a strong positive state- ment, yet must be accounted as strong in a comparative sense. But to Cicely he had scarcely spoken at all ; and this naturally interested her, because she could not com- prehend why he should be so odd and so very unlike other people. While Archie was spending a long and weary after- noon with the Dare family, as narrated in the last chapter, Cicely was discussing this abnormal stranger with Mrs. Lowndes ; and Mrs. Lowndes, a lean, busy little woman, with iron-grey hair, who had no children, and whose inti- mate acquaintance with the affairs of everyone who dwelt within ten miles of her was proverbial, said : — *♦ My dear, you may depend upon it there is somo entanglement. As soon as I had seen the man I said to Robert, • There is some entanglement.' He has a sort ot hppeless look which tells its own tale as plainly as pos- sible. Besides, why is he burying himself down here ? Not because he caresif fig for his property or his tenants or his neighbours, you may be sure. The whole time that I was talking to him about them he kept swallowing yawns until his eyes began to water. No ! there is a mystery in the case ; and if it were not wrong to bet, I would bet you a shilling to sixpence that a woman is at the bottom of it." Sharp little Mrs. Lowndes was, as we know, both right and wrong. Cicely had no means of verifying the more experienced lady's diagnosis, but it is needless to say that, after that, she was more than ever determined to get at the truth Mr. Chetwode and his entanglements might not concern her particularly, yet it was intolerable that he should continue to be mysterious. When one holds triumphant sway over the entire countryside one really cannot suffer mysteries to remain unexplained. And so, when certain parochial matters had been talked o/er, and Cicely had set out homewards, her thoughts were a good deal occupied with Mr. Chetwode. She was not at all surprised to find Archie loitering at the corner of one of the lanes, nor was she taken in for a moment by his clumsy affectation of a start. " Do you mean to tell me that you have only just got away from the Rectory ? " he asked. " What can you have been doing all this time ? " wtaaJ MISADVENTURE. r *• Have I been a long time ? I did not know it was long," returned Cicely. " Mrs. Lowndes and I always have plenty to do when we meet. And how have you been occupying yourself during my absence ? " '• Oh, I've been lunching out, too," answered Archie, rather dismally. •* I didn't want to be left to the tender mercies of Morton if I could help it, so, as I happened to come across Bobby Dare, and as he asked me to go and lunch at Instowe, 1 thought I had better accept. It was deadly dull. They are deadly dull people, and they wouldn't talk about anything except that ball of theirs — which will be deadly dull too, I expect." " Oh, they have made you promise to go to it then ? " ♦• I don't think I exactly promised ; but if I did I can have a sick headache when the time comes. And I cer- tainly will unless you go. Why can't you go ? " " Well, I told you, you know. I can't be sure that Papa will be well enough to be left." *• Oh, but that's only an excuse. Of course you can go if you want to go." " But why should I want to go ? You yourself say that it will be deadly dull, and what inducement have you to offer me beyond that of a waltz or two with you ? — and you know, my dear Archie, that unless you have improved very much you are not quite a first-rate dancer." ** I have improved very much," Archie declared. '• Moreover, you will have Bobby to dance with, it that's an inducement. Chetwode too, I believe, for they said they must ask him. Would Chetwode be an inducement?" ♦♦ An immense one," answered Cicely decisively. '• If he accepts the invitation I will certainly make an effort to do likewise. I can see you and Bobby any day, but it isn't so easy to see Mr. Chetwode, or to get him to talk when one does see him." Archie grunted. " I don't know why you should be so anxious to make him talk," he remarked. ♦* You would know if you had tried and failed. Per- haps he may have nothing to say ; but one would like to make sure of that before giving him up. I wonder whether Morton will go. Did they say anything about asking him ? " MISADVENTURE. 90 " Well — yes, they did," Archie replied, with some hesi- tation. '• Only they had doubts as to the propriety of intro- ducing him to their friends, I suppose. They are wrong, I think. Some day or other he will be Lord of Abbots- port Manor, and then they will be obliged to know him. They ought to send him a card — especially as he is almost sure to refuse." But when this question was spoken of during dinner, it transpired that Morton took no such ungenerous view of his duty to his neighbours. He said he would certainly show himself at the ball, and did not even seem to think that there was any occasion for him to wai*- until he was asked. Further, he was clearly of opinion that Mark ought to be there, and must be taken there by main force if necessary. " London is one thing," he was good enough to explain, •• and Abbotsport is another. One can't decline civilities here without giving a good and sufficient reason. It's one of the first duties of a man who is trying to become a coun- try gentleman to submit to social nuisances and look pleasant." " Are you trying to become a country gentleman, Morton ? " inquired his father, with an air of faintly amused curiosity. '♦ I've no choice in the matter," replied the heir-appar- ent calmly ; •' that is what I'm bound to be, and I must make up nay mind to it. Chetwode isn't situated quite as I am, and 1 daresay he may be inclined to shirk his bur- dens. But he musn't be allowed to shirk them ; we'll offer him a lift over to Instowe. He has no trap of his own, I believe." ♦• Only, as you mean to join us, we shall be four without him," replied Archie. •• Well," said Morton composedly, " we can divide our- selves into two carriage loads. In fact we ought to do so, for I am sure Aurit Susan would be grieved beyond meas- ure if her ball-dress were crushed. You and the two ladies can take the landau, and I'll drive Chetwode over in the brougham. I suppose the stables do contain an animal who is quiet enough to go in single harness without scar- ing a nervous man out of his wits ? " I M MISADVENTUBX. Mr. Bligh having intimated that such was probably the case, the subject dropped, and before the date fixed for the ball Morton was at the pains of walking over a second time to Upton Chetwode and bringing a certain amount of pressure to bear upon one whose inclinations appeared to tend towards seclusion. Mark said he didn't think he would derive much amusement from provincial gaieties, but yielded gracefully when he was informed that it was Miss Bligh's particular wish that he should respond to such advances as his neighbours were able to make to him. *• Cicely went the length of saying that she herself would not put in an appearance unless you did," Morton averred. " She's tremendously in earnest about it ; and upon my word I believe she's right. It doesn't do to make oneself unpopular. Just look at me, for instance. I expect I hate balls a good deal more than you do, and no one has paid me such a compliment as to say that she would go to Instowe for the pleasure of meeting me ; but I shall be there just the same." In presence of so bright an example Mark could no longer hesitate. He signified his wiUingness to do all that might be required of him, and accepted with thanks Morton's kind offer of a seat in Mr. Bligh's brougham ; and after his visitor had left him he laughed unrestrain- edly for several minutes. All this was certainly a little comical. Morton's designs were simple and explicable enough ; but what in the world did a young and beautiful heiress mean by throwing herself at his head ? Duririg the whole of his career, which, in a social sefiSe, had been tolerably eventful, he had no such experience; and not unnaturally Cicely sank in his estimation by reason of her supposed importunity. He was, of course, willing enough to marry her, if it came to that, but he was not sure that it would not be a great bore to hkve to make love to her. His sentiments, in short, were precisely what those of the writer and reader of these words would probably be under similar circumstances ; and if the state- ment of them makes him appear somewhat of a coxcomb, allowance may perhaps be made for him in consideration of his complete misunderstanding of the case. This was, at any rate, the very last time that atiy such misconcep- tion came within the range of his capacities. MISADVENTUBE. 101 ^or, although, when the proper time arrived, he duly carried out his share of the compact and was conducted by Morton Bligh to the scene ot festivity, Miss Bligh did, not see fit to fulfil hers, except in so far as that she was' present in the ball-room on his entrance. She seemed' quite surprised when he asked her how many dances she could spare him. •♦ 1 am very sorry," she answered, " but my card is more than full, and as it is, I shall have to throw a good many people over most likely, because I don't think I can stay till the end. But I shall be very glad to introduce you to partners, if you are in want of them." Mark smilingly declined and fell back, with a distinct feeling of mortification. He had not expected to be so snubbed, nor did he in the least believe, what was never- theless perfectly true, that Cicely's programme could have been filled up so early in the evening. To be a beauty in London or Paris, or any other large city, is to be one of a certain number of happy and distinguished persons; but to be the beauty of an English county is very generally to shine supreme and alone, and, since it is human to be gregarious. Cicely's admirers numbered just as many young men as there were in the room. Moreover, it was a matter of almost absolute indifiference to her whether she danced with A or B ; so she had promised three dances in advance to her cousin, and had willingly accorded as many to Bobby Dare, who had rushed for- ward to implore them immediately upon her arrival. Mark leant against the wall and watched her, after quieting his conscience by walking through a set of Lancers with the eldest Miss Dare. Her frock was very well cut, he noticed — assuredly it was not the handi- work of a provincial dressmaker — and as for her beauty, that was what he had never thought of disputing. Only, somehow or other, it attracted him to-night, which it could scarcely be said to have done heretofore. After her very plain invitation to him, he could only account for her behaviour upon the supposition that she was either capricious or a coquette, and the uncertainty stimulated his curiosity. In reality she was quite as much disappointed as he was that her engagements did not permit of her dancing all 1- ] 1 102 MISADVKNTURE. 7 * with him, and she also thought him rather tiresome for having been so dilatory about presenting himself. But upon further consideration she remembered that the delay was probably rather Morton's fault than his; so that it seemed a little unfair to make him suffer for it. Consulting her programme she foimd that she had prom- ised the fourteenth dance to Archie and the fifteenth to Bobby; and, with that unscrupulousness which all women, unhappily, are wont to exhibit in their dealinf^s with those whom they have brought into subjection, she determined to ask each of them to let her off. She used no deception in the matter: she told them both candidly that she wished to dance with Mr. Chetwode, and that she relied on their good-nature to enable her to do as she wished. And having been granted the release, which ( ould hardly be refused, she requested her partner to conduct her to Mr. Chetwode, whom she informed that after all, she could manage to give him numbers fourteen and fifteen, if he cared to have them." " You are very kind," he replied, with that deferential, un-English bow of his. " I was thinking of going away ; but now I shall most thankfully remain. I only wish I could flatter myself that, as a partner, I should prove wortiiy of you." He danced, as many Russians do, after the German fashion — that is to say admirably in respect of time and smoothness, yet with a manner of holding himself and his partner which was a little uncomfortable to a lady who had never been out of England. Perhaps it was because she did not get on with him quite as well as she had expected, perhaps it was (as she alleged) because the evening was far advanced and she was tired out, but more probably it was because she desired to test his conversational rather than his waltzing powers that Cicely proposed to sit out the remainder of the time at her disposal. At all events she obtained his assent, of which she lost no time in taking advantage. Hitherto this man had baffled her ; and to be baffled was an altogether novel experience for Miss Bligh. She put forth all her powers, which were very great (is not the power of any young and beautiful woman enormous ?), to break down the barrier of his polite reserve, and it 'F MISADVENTURE. 103 need scarcely be said she was successful. She made him talk about himself; she led him on to speak of the subjects which he was not in the habit of discussing ; she did not it is true, hear anything about Madame Souravieff~be- cause one must draw the line somewhere — but she learned that Mr. Chetwode was a weary and unhappy man, that he had lost all his illusions and did not know where to find fresh ones ; also that sympathy was very pleasant and very welcome to him. And he, for his part, was perfectly sincere. He not only seemed to be fascinated but really was fascinated. Bemg no fool, he very soon perceived that Cicely was neither in love with him nor anxious to make him fall in love with her. He had never met a won n at all like her before — had never, indeed, had a chance o: o doing — and her combination of audacity and innocen:;t touched some chord or other in his heart which thro'i ,h tho. who' j of his previous life had remained intact, it wis .ith quite spor r*,' ous honesty that he paid her a ve) / pretty com- pliment at length. •♦ You understand a great deal," he said. " How is it that you have come to understand so much without ever leaving Abbotsport ? " ♦•What is the difference between Abbotsport and other places ? " she asked, laughing. He shrugged his shoulders. " I suppose you are right ; it is always the same story over and over again ; only sometimes it is printed in big type and sometimes in small. Still one does not meet every day with a person whose eyes are clear enough to read the small type. And is that enough for you ? Will you have philosophy enough to live always contentedly in a microcosm ? " " If that were to be my fate I don't think I should com- plain of it," answered Cicely ; *• but it is not at all likely to be my fate." •• Doesn't one's fate very much depend on oneself? " '« Yours may, and I daresay it does ; but mine will be settled for me by other people. Here comes Bobby looking very sad and reproachful ; I must go and dance with him, poor boy ! And you can go home to bed, as I see that you are dying to do. Take the ? '■ it II i04 MISADVJENTUBE. brougham, if you want it ; we will make room for Morton and put Archie on the box." But Mark, instead of going home, remained where was for a time and watched her while she danced. •• It is not going to be such a simple affair after all," he thought to himself. Indeed there were several reason > why the line of action upon which he had resolved seemed less easy to carry out than it had first appeared. To begin with, he had discovered that Miss Bligh's intelligence was above the average ; then he suspected that although, like most women, she coveted admiration, her head was not likely to be turned by it ; finally — and this was the most serious of all — his own head was no longer as cool as he could have wished it to be. He was conscious of certain once- familiar sensations, from the recurrence of which he had Relieved himself to be permanently delivered ; he was conscious to of a decided loss of self-confidence and increase of anxiety. ** No, it isn't going to be simple," he repeated as he arose and made for the door. " How- ever, that will, at least, make it more interesting." CHAPTER XIII. BOBBY IS PUT OUT OF SUSPENSE. ;l While Cicely was producing the impression above mentioned upon Mark Chetwode, while Archie from a dis- tant point of vantage war glaring at the unconscious couple, and while the remainder of the assembled company were, it may be hoped, enjoying themselves after their i^everal fashions, Bobby Dare was in a condition of tum- ultuous mental excitement. That very evening — so he had determined — he was to hear whether life thenceforth sliould mean for him a hopeful effort towards some realis- able ideal or merely a daily round of monotonous duty. Esther way, he was going to be relieved from suspense, which is always a stirring prospect. His sister Jane had patted him on the back and fincouraged him very much, but that is what one's sister Jane may generally be relied Vpon to do ; and if one be a sensible man, like Bobby, ooe MtSADVENTtTRE. 105 makes allowance for her partiality while duly appreciating it, and is not specially elated by her sanguine anticipa- tions. Bobby was very far from being sanguine, yet he was glad, as every brave man ought to be, that the time for decisive action had arrived ; and so, after he had danced with Cicely for a minute or two, he asked her whether she would mind coming with him into the library. •• Be- cause," said he, " I want to tell you something." ♦' I shall be delighted," she answered unhesitatingly. " I have had more than enough dancing for one night, and if you can tell me anything of a nature to amuse or int'^rest me I shall be truly grateful." The library was deserted, and in the way of illumina- tion had but two shaded lamps (a concession to modern social requirements which Lady Dare had only sanctioned after a struggle), the bay-windows had been thrown open, and beside one of them war an arm-chair, of which Cicely promptly took possession. " Well," said she, as soon as Bobby had seated him- self, with his elbows on his knees, upon a old-fashioned stool in front of her, ** speak on. I am accustomed to receiving confidences ; nobody gets more of them than I do, and if I were not so discreet, I could tell you all the domestic secrets of Abbotsport. What is your particular trouble ? Have you been falling desperately in love with somebody, after the manner of sailors ? And has she snubbed you ? " Perhaps this was rather a cruel speech ; but then it must be apparent to everybody that there are occasions upon which one is cruel only to be kind. Bobby neither took the hint nor resented it. ♦' First of all," he answered, " I wanted to tell you that I've been appointed to the Cygnet, and that I shall have to join in a few days." "It is very ignorant of me, but I really don't know whether I ought to congratulate you or not. Where is the Cygnet ? And what is she going to do ? " •• Oh, it's a matter for congratulation, I think. I shall be on the East Indian station — in the Persian Gulf or the Red Sea, most likely — and c e might be worse off than that. There's always the chance of active service in put- ting down the slave trade, you see. But what I have '. I m 106 MISADVENTUBX. made up my mind to say to you to-night — because I'm sure it's better to say it and have done with it — is that whatever happens to me in the future will be good or bad or indifferent, just as you may decide." Cicely assumed an air of astonishment which she did not feel. *• I don't understand how that can be," she declared. " But of course you do understand," returned Bobby, who was a very straightforward young man. *• You under- stand quite well. Cicely, that I love you, and that I have never lovtd anyone but you. I haven't said so befofe, but you know it without my saying so ; and now I want you to tell me honestly whether it's an altogether hopeless business or not. I can do with a very little bit of hope," he added modestly, " if you can give it me." Cicely burst out laughing. Her laughter might have struck a dispassionate observer as being a trifle forced, but it would have been most unreasonable to expect of a matter-of-fact and amorous young sailor that he should be in a position to make dispassionate observations. " My dear Bobby," she exclaimed, " you are very flat- tering, but you are a little bit absurd, you know. Didn't I tell you you were in love with somebody ? Well, by this time next year you will be in love with somebody else, that's all. And then, if there's any gratitude in you, you will be thankful to me, I hope, for not having taicen you too seriously." " That isn't a fair way to answer me. Cicely. You may refuse me, and I suppose you will; but you aren't heartless enough to laugh at me, and you needn't pretend that you are. I know you better than that." Cicely was a little surprised, and showed she was so by a change in her voice. ••But, Bobby," she remonstrated, "how would you have me answer you ? You are only a boy." '• So you say ; still the facts remain that I am a man. If you tell me that you don't care for me, and never can care for me, there's an end of it ; only I'm sure you can't think me absurd. It wasn't absurd to love vou. It may be jMcsumptuous perhaps ; that I quite admit." li he had been as clever as he was stupid, and as de- signing as he was honest, he could not have put the case MISADVENTURE. 107 more effectively ; for he touched Cicely's heart and madf her feel ashamed of herself. Nevertheless slie shook her head. •* I am very sorry, Bobby," she said, "but you mustn't think about it any more I hope you won't think about it any more — or, at any rate, not for long. You oughtn't to call me heartless because I can't help remembering how- young you are. You haven't seen a great many women yet, have you ? And just think what a dreadful thing it would be to be bound to one, and then to find that there was another whom you liked better." " I daresay it would be dreadful if it were possible," answered Bobby; "only in my case it isn't possible. However, I suppose you mean me to understand that there's no chance for me ? " Cicely, by silence, signified assent. The moon, which was nearly at the full, shone in through the open window, and fell upon the features of the handsome, dejected-look- ing young fellow who sat facing her. She had never meant to flirt with him ; she had never meant to give a moment of pain to his honest heart. Certainly she had known he was an admirer of hers ; but then so many people were ad- mirers of hers ! Yet, while she looked at him, her con- science pricked her, and at length she said : — " I haven't — I hope you don't think I have — encourage^ you, Bobby ? " '• Oh, no," he replied, with a dreary little laugh ; " you cannot be accused of having done that Only there seemed to be just the least shadow of a hope, and as I am goin;,' away for such a long time I thought I would rather hear the truth before I started ; and then Jane kept on telling me that I should never get what I wanted if I hadn't the pluck to ask for it — which was sensible enough, I daresay." The counsels of Jane were no doubt sensible in the abstract, but it was scarcely sensible to quote them to Cicely, whose manner at once underwent a slight change. •* Oh," said she, " you have been making a conjidanU of Jane, then ? " In truth there was no great love lost between her and Miss Dare, who was strong-minded and managing, and whom she suspected (with perfect justice) of being desirous that her brother should marry a rich woman, 1Q8 MISADVENTURE. " I didn't exactly confide in her," answered Bobby " She guessed what was the matter with me, and when she taxed me with it in plain terms I couldn't contradict her. So then she urged me not to put off speaking until it might be too late." ** Your sister," observed Cicely, " doesn't seem to give me credit for knowing my own mind. Did she think that it was a question of who might happen to speak first ? " •♦ No, only she thought — but perhaps you will be offended if I tell you what she thought." •' Perhaps I shall," answered Cicely ; " but I wish to hear it all the same. Go on." And so accustomed was Bobby to obey this imperious young lady that he did not venture to dispute her pleasure '• Well," he began, " I was afraid — of course I don't know whether 1 am right or wrong, and I mustn't ask — but for some time past I have been ,ery much afraid of Archie. Jealous of him in short, if I must speak the plain truth." •♦ Yes," said Cicely, with an unmoved countenance, for indeed this was no news to her. Bobby looked wistfully at her for a moment, and then resu'ied : — *' Naturally I can't help knowing that Archie is a cut above me in almost everything, except, perhaps, in sailing a boat ; but Jane, you see " *' Jane, quite as naturally, has a less humble opinion of you. So far, I am entirely with Jane. Well ? " •' Well, she wouldn't allow tnat, on our merits, there was much difference between us ; but she has an idea that your father wants you to marry Archie, and that you may do it in order to please him. I've been thinking a good deal about it since," continued Bobby, as the girl remained silent, " and it seems to me that it really is a danger. A danger for you, I mean ; as for me, no doubt I shouldn't have been any better off if Archie had never been born." And with a certain unstudied eloquence which was not ineffective, he proceeded to expatiate upon the fatal con- sequences which must necessarily result from a marriage of convenience. He declared — and his face proved his sincerity — that he cared far more for her happiness than for his own, that he could very well bear to hear that she had MISADVENTURE. 109 married a man whom she loved, and that he had always known that he himself could hardly win her love by any- thmg short of a miracle ; but to hear that from motives of expediency she had married a man whom she did not really love would, he confessed, be to him the very worst news possible, and he implored her not to sacrifice herself in so useless a way. Cicely's response to his appeal was scarcely satis- tactory to him. " Perhaps,*' said she, " the simplest plan is not to marry at all. I don't think I have ever met anybody except my father whom I should care to live with always ; and you are completely mistaken if you imagine that he wishes me to marry against my will." '• Perhaps he doesn't," answered Bobby, doubtfully, " but everybody seems to think that he has set his heart upon your marrying Archie. And small blame to him if he has i Although I do trust you won't oblige him, unless — unless " Cicely shut up her fan with a sudden impatient rattle. ♦• Oh, the chances are that I shall live and die an old maid," she said. *' No doubt there are plenty of women who can manage to think their husbands paragons of per- fection, but I can't believe myself capable of such imbe- cility, and if one didn't think the man a paragon, I don't see how one could escape abhorring him. The whole ques- tion is one of imagination from beginning to end, and my imagination has always been defective." That was probably true ; and it was certainly true that she was as yet fancy free. If anyone had contrived to find a soft place in her heart, that person was no other than the modest Bobby himself ; but of course such an avowal could not be made without a risk of misconception. And now this interview was brought to an abrupt close by the entrance of Archie, who marched up to the couple in a state of ill-disguised irritation, to say that he had been looking for them all over the place, that the carnage \/as at the door, and that everybody was going away. •♦ Chetwode appears to have appropriated the broug- ham," he added. " Pretty cool of him, I must say. We shall have to stow Morton away somehow." He was not much mollified when his cousin rejoined : — I I I no MISADVENTURE. " That is my fault ; I told Mr. Chetwode he could have the brougham. The carriage holds four, but anyhow you won't mind sitting on the box on such a lovely night, will yop. ? I thought you would be glad to have the chance of a cigar." Archie grunted ; and while Cicely, who had risen was making her way towards the ball-room, to say good-night to her entertainers, he muttered to Bobby : — ** That brute has been swilling champagne the whole evening. If we could have got away a little sooner, there might have been some hope of his being able to behave him- self ; but by this time he must be as drunk as an owl I'd put him on the box, only I suppose he'd roll off." Morton was subsequently offered the box-seat, which he declined, with thanks. He was not drunk, but he might without much exaggeration have been called tipsy. He was also in high spirits ; for he had witnessed from a distance his sister's prolonged conversation with Mark Chetwode, and Archie's evident ill-humour struck hir in the light of a capital joke. He beguiled the homeward way with some facetious sallies at the expense of Lady Dare's guests, most of which were expressed in language which shocked Miss Skipwith beyond measure, and con- sequently amused Cicely. The latter was in need of any amusement that she could obtain, because her own spirits were somewhat depressed. She had an uncomfortable feeling that she had not behaved very well to poor Bobby, and a still more uncomfortable feeling that he had behaved with a good deal of magnanimity to her ; she could have wished also to explain to him — had it seemed possible to do that without exciting false hopes — that she was not and never had been in love with any man, and that she believed herself to be constitutionally incapable of such emotions. But there are things \vhich it is always ex- tremely difficult to say, because nobody will ever believe them ; so that perhaps it was just as well for Bobby's peace of mind that his entreaties had been met by an un- compromising negative. After all he was very young, and the wounds of young people heal quickly. Meanwhile Morton, encouraged by his aunt's depreca- tory murmurs and his sister's laughter, was not mincing matters. Not a good word had he to say for a single par- ti lilSADYENTUBK. Ill Son whom he had met that 'evening, except Mark Chet- wode, whom he boldly averred to be the only civilized human being in the entire countryside. •• Chet wode is a gentleman," said he. •' Clever fellow, too — uncommonly clever fellow. Not much use for the Miss Dares to set their caps at him, I can tell them 1 " *' Perhaps they won't," observed Cicely. •' He isn't such a very great catch, you see." " My dear girl," returned her brother, with much solemnity, " a man like Chetwode would be a catch if he hadn't a brass farthing in the word. You may take my word for that. He'll get into Parliament and distinguish himself, you'll see ; he won't be content to vegetate down here all his life. I should say," continued Morton, with as much gravity and deliberation as if he had known what he was talking about. *• that with a little capital — of course a little capital is necessary to start with — Chetwode might rise to almost any position." And it is highly probable that he would have proceeded to hint in plain terms at the quarter whence the requisite capital might appropriately be derived, had he not been preserved from wrecking his schemes in that way by the termination of the drive. ,n f CHAPTER XIV. MR. BLIGH STATES HIS INTENTIONS. One fine morning, not long after the ball at which he had entertained his friends and acquaintances. Sir George Dare mounted his old bay horse, and lost a button off the back of his trousers in the process. This, coming on the top of other vexatious incidents, saddened him and brought gloomy ideas into his mind ; so that he shook his head very mournfully as he jogged down the drive. •• It comes to this," he sighed, '• that I must either give up wearing braces altogether, or have the library steps brought out every time I want to get upon a horse's back. A pretty state of things for a man of my age, who has al- ways led an abstemious life ! " :* ^ 112 MiSAl>yEWTUR«. As, however, his temperament v/Ht opf^imistld, atid aS exercise and fresh air always did him good, he presenfly became more cheerful, remembering, that, after all, he might be a great deal worse off. There was poor Bligh, for instance, to whom he was about to pay a neighbourly visit — Bligh, who was his junior by a long way and was a helpless cripple, simply waiting for death. '• V/aiting for death," sohloquised Sir George, " that's all that can be said about him ; and with no prospect of dying comfortably either ; for it must be deuced unpleasant to have such a rascal of a son, and see him standing there ready to step into your shoes. Thank God, I've no cause to be ashamed of any son of mine — though I wish one of 'em wasn't such a stoopid young ass I " Sir George, who was fond of Bobby and proud of him. would have turned purple with anger if anybody else had ventured so to describe the Benjamin of the family ; but it certainly was tiresome of the boy to have abortive love affairs and bolt off to London on some flimsy pretext be- fore his leave had expired. Bobby had departed, and the flimsy pretext alluded to had been outwardly acquiesced in ; but the mishap which had befallen him was no secret to any of his near relations, because he had been unable to conceal it from Ja:>e, and Jane had imparted it to her mother, who had told Sir George, and reticence had never been one of Sir George's many fine qualities. Not that he meant to say a word about the matter to Bligh ; that would be a very useless and undignified thing to do. Girls must be allowed to choose their own husbands, or at any rate to reject aspirants whom they may have the bad taste not to fancy, and Lady Dare was much mistaken in think- ing that Cicely was the sort of girl who would submit' to have a husband chosen for her. As a matter of fact, Lady Dare did not think so ; but Jane did. Jane was convinced that unless some disinter- ested person intervened Cicely would be talked into marry- ing her cousin, and Jane's conviction, which had reached her father's ear, may have had something to do with that honest gentleman's sudden anxiety to inform himself as to the state of poor Bligh's health. But if so he was quite unconscious of it. He had told Lady Dare, who had suggested the intervention of the disinterested pers6n, lOSADVBimjRS. lis that that was all stuff and nonsense, and although he had agreed with her that it would be very nice if Bobby were to make a good marriage, and had not disputed her asser- tion that Bobby was both handsomer and more lovable than Archie, he had at the same time reminded her that Cicely appeared to be of a different opinion. On reaching the Priory he was informed that Mr. Bligh was out in the garden, and there, reclining in a sheltered, sunny spot, he found the invalid, whom he greeted with much heartiness. ♦• Well, Bligh," said he, "it'sagreat pleasure to see you out of doors again, I'm sure ! And how are you? Pro- gressing, I hope, progressing, eh ? " "Oh, I'm progressing," answered Mr. Bligh, with a little laugh. *♦ In fact I may say that I'm progressing very fast indeed — down the hill." Sir George began to say : — •* Oh, nonsense, my dear fellow, you mustn't talk like that ! You're all right ; we shall have you about again before long.'* But while he was speaking he looked at the other's pale, waxen face, and suddenly felt ashamed of uttering such absurdities ; so that his sentence, which had started so bravely, died away feebly before reaching its conclusion. To relieve his embarrassment Mr. Bligh at once changed the subject, and presently made some inquiry about Bobby, which enabled Sir George to say : — ♦• Ah, poor boy, I'm here partly on his behalf. Asked me to say good-bye to you all for him. He has been or- dered off to the East India Station, you know." ♦* So Cicely told me," observed Mr. Bligh ; '* but I didn't know that he had to join his ship immediately." ♦' He won't have to join for a week or two, I believe ; but he said he must go up to London to get his outfit. The fact of the matter is that he wanted to get away — and no fool he ! / didn't attempt to detain him, though of course his mother was distressed." Sir George glanced at Mr. Bligh, and saw that his meaning had been understood. He did not, however, ob- tain much comfort or encouragement from the latter, who only smiled and remarked : " He is one of a tolerably large number. Happily for him, he is a sailor, and sailors have short memories." fP ; ill Mf- ■■ ' lU MtSADVENttJ!U& IN/ " I don't know so much about that," returned Sir George, rather grumpily ; " we Dares aren't weather- cocks, whatever we may be. At the same time, I am quite aware — and so I told his mother — that you have other in- tentions. No doubt it's just as well that he should get away, poor fellow ! How long do you expect your son to stay with you ?" " He hasn't spoken to me about his plans," Mr. Bligh answered, ♦• but I should think that, under the circum- stances, he would see the propriety of being in at the death. It's customary, you know ; and I have been much impressed of late by Morton's earnest desire to do what is customary." Sir George suddenly broke out into strong language. As a matter of principle, no one was more firmly con- vinced than he that it is both wrong and unlike a gentle- man to swear ; but surely it is justifiable to resort to any remedy in order to secure yourself against a fit of apo- plexy, and his good friend Bligh had the knack of exasper- ating him beyond endurance. His observations were somewhat incoherent, but the upshot of them was that it was downright disgusting ; and Mr. Bligh agreed medita- tively that perhaps it was rather disgusting, when you came to think of it. The situation, however, was not of liis creating, and he was at a loss to understand why he was being scolded. Sir George said : — •• Nobody is scolding you, Bligh ; but if you don't want to make a man lose his temper — I believe that's just what you do want, though — you shouldn't talk in such an un- natural way." " I thought I was suiting myself to my subject," an- swered Mr. Bligh, mildly. *♦ For the matter of that, nothing that happens is unnatural. Otherwise it couldn't happen, you see." This puzzled Sir George, who rubbed the back of his head, and endeavoured to argue the point. Thus he was led away into an irrelevant discussion, and had not yet ascertained whether the Abbotsport property was really to pass into the hands of the obnoxious Morton or not when the colloquy was interrupted by Archie's appear- ance upon the scene. MISADVENTURE. 115 That young man, who strolled up with his hands in his pockets, looked as if he didn't know what to do with himself — which indeed was his case. He said disconso- lately that Cicely had gone off somewhere to visit the poor, as usual, and that Morton was asleep in the smok- ing room — also as usual. After which he sat down upon the ground and heaved a profound sigh. Sir George chatted for a few minutes .'onger, and then took his leave, saying : — " Well, I ought to be going home, or I shall be late for luncheon. Very glad to have seen you, Bligh, and — and — I hope you'll be better soon. And you must keep up your spirits, you know — you must keep up your spirits !" ♦' He's a good old fellow, that," remarked Archie, when the worthy baronet was out of hearing. *' Did he come over here just to ask how you were ?" " He is a very good old fellow," replied Mr. Bligh, "although I don't think he came over solely for that pur- pose. I believe that one of his reasons for coming was that he — or possibly Lady Dare — is very anxious to know whether I mean my son to inherit this place." " What business is that of theirs ?" '* It is to some extent their business. One can't be altogether independent of one's neighbours, and there is a certain kind of neighbour who can give one a good deal of annoyance if he chooses. However, I didn't tell Sir George what my intentions were. But I think," added Mr. Bligh, after a short j)ause, " that I will tell yon, if you don't mind listening to me for a minute or two. Now tliat my mind is made up, I should like you to know it. Did it ever occur to you that 1 might put you in Morton's place ?" ♦• No," answered the young man, looking up wonder- ingly, " I can't say that it ever did." " I'm glad of that; because I don't mean to commit such an act of injustice, much as I should like to commit it. If I felt free to consult my own inclinations, I should chooee to be succeeded by somebody who would be con- tent to lead the ordinary life of an English country gen- tleman. I have been interested in my tenants and in the fishing people, and I have tried to do what I could for them, and the idea that my work will be either undone or 8 d 1 : i i 116 MISADVENTURE. allowed to die a natural death isn't, of course, quite plens ant to me. Still, I couldn't deprive Morton of his birth- rij^ht. After thinking it over, that is the conclusion to which I have come. The excuse, it seems to me, would be insufficient, and I need not weary you by going into reasons and particulars. But I have thought myself jus- tified in leaving him only a life interest in the estates, which will pass on his death to his eldest son, or, if he never has any sons, to Cicely. For you I have made such provision as it seemed right and reasonable to make. You won't be a rich man, Archie, but you will be independent — which, after all, means much the same thing." Archie made the unintelligible mumble which is all that can be expected of a man to whom an announce- ment of that kind has been made, and a pause ensued. Then Mr. Bligh, who had been scrutinizing the young man with a faintly amused air, resumed : *' I wonder whether you would mind my speaking to you with brutal and unceremonious frankness ? " Archie raised his blue eyes wonderingly and answered: " I don't mind you saying anything that you want to say, Uncle Wilfrid." " Thank you. Well, I want to say something that may perhaps make you blush ; but I will look the other way while I'm saying it. You must try to forgive an unem- ployed cripple for having had eyes sharp enough to per- ceive that you are smitten with my daughter,and maybe you will forgive me the more easily when I tell you that it has given me the greatest possible satisfaction to perceive that such is the case. If I had to choose a husband for her out of the whole world, I should choose you ; and — in short, my dear fellow, I wish you good luck with all my heart." Here Mr. Bligh held out his hand to his nephew, who took it, expressing his gratitude as warmly as a somewhat limited vocabulary would allow. He thought his uncle was treating him with very great kindness and generosity, and he said as much. ♦♦ Well, no," answered the elder man, laughing, " I'm afraid I can't claim much credit for either. You have all the personal qualities that one is entitled to ask for in a son-in-law, but in addition to that, circumstances give you MISADVENTURE. ir )'t a special value in my eyes. I suppose feeling one's end so near makes one a little wanting in delicacy and inclined to say things which, as a general rule, are only hinted at, but as I have begun by being so candid, I may as well go on. Looking to the future, I can't but be aware that Morton is not likely to marry, and that his life is not likely to be a long one. Conseqr.ently I foresee that some day my place will be taken by Cicely's husband, and it would be a comfort to me to know that Cicely's husband will be one of my own blood. I only mention this by way of explaining myself; your own good sense will tell you that it would be a very great mistake for you to count upon chances, or even upon probabilities. I trust I haven't shocked you by my cold-bloodedness." It is ft impossible that Archie might have been just the least ;it in the world shocked, had he been in a calmer condition of mind ; but as it was, he was too excited and anxious for criticism, and what he chiefly wanted to know was whether he could at once declare himself to Cicely with any prospect of success. " Really," said his uncle, laughing, " you ought to be a better judge of that than I. I can't, of course, do any- thing to help you ; all I can say is that you have my best wishes." This was, no doubt, the proper attitude to take up. and, whatever may be thought of Mr. Bligh's discretion, it cannot be said that up to that point he had used any undue influence for the furtherance of his schemes. But later in the day he did, tnough without intending it, trans- gress to some extent the limits of strict neutrality. Cicely — as indeed was a common enough practice with her — did not put in an appearance at luncheon, but at five o'clock she found her father in the library and seated herself by his side to pour out his tea for him ; and then it was that she heard the news of Bobby's precipitate departure, which seemed both to distress and anger her. " He might at least have taken the trouble to come and say good-bye to us," she remarked. " Taking everything into consideration," answered Mr. Bligh, with a smile, " perhaps some allowance may be made for his bad manners." "Oh, you know, then ? " *>^ m 118 MISADVENTURE. '• Well, I can guess. Sir George didn't leave a great deal to my imagination, though we avoided particulars. From your guilty expression, I presume that the poor youth must have gone the length of putting a plain ques- tion and getting a plain answer." Cicely nodded, rather sadly. She was not much given to confidences, but she had never had any secrets trom her father, and she was the more willing now to tell him ,what had occurred because her conscience was ill at ease. Did he, she asked, consider that she had behaved badly ? Had she been to blame ? Did he think that Bobby was very angry with her ? •* It seems so horid and cruel to have sent him away like this before his time ; and I am afraid his people will hate me for it," she said penitently. Mr. Bligh, however, could not be brought to view this matter in a serious light. He was one of the most kind- hearted men in the world, but he had forgotten, or per- haps had never known, the sufferings attendant upon unre- quited love, and he did not think it probable that a healthy young sailor would find much difficulty in forget- ting the girl he had left behind him These unromantic sentiments he imparted to Cicely, and was amused to notice that if they reassured her they did not altogether please her. Women may always be trusted to think kindly of a disconsolate lover ; but, whatever they may say, they can't readily pardon a lover who has found consolation. And it may be that her father's philosophical remarks produced a certain effect upon Cicely, which, to do him justice, he had not meant to produce ; for when, as seemed but natural after such a conversation, he went on to speak of other admirers of hers, and mentioned one in particular whom, if he were in her place, he should rate more highly than all the rest put together, she only shrugged her shoulders and said : — " Oh, he is very nice and I like him very much. I daresay he would do as well as anybody, if there must be somebody. But must there be somebody ? " •' No," answered Mr. Bligh ; '' but I hope there will be somebody. You don't like to hear me say I shan't be here much longer ; yet that is what I am always thinking of, and I am quite sure I should have a better chance of MiSADVENTtTtte. 119 living for another year or so if I were easy in my mind about you." In saying this he unquestionably went further than he ought to have done ; but he conceived himself to be Tierely stating a fact. Nothing could have been lest in accordance with his desires than that his life should be prolonged by his daughter's marriage with a man whom she did not love. His own impression was that she really did love Archie, but that she was probably not as yet aware of it. It had always been so much a matter of course that every young man who came near her should prostrate hinself before her. So that there seemed no great harm in saying what an honest, manly young ieflow Archie was, and how straight he had always kept, although his regiment had the name of being a fast one, and what a good sportsman he had shown himself, and how well he seemed to be adapted for country life. •• I was telling him this morning," continued Mr. Bligh with a sigh, " that I would very much rather leave the Priory to him than to Morton, who will hate the place. But that can't be." " I suppose not," said Cicely, doubtfully. " Oh no ; it wouldn't do. I hesitated for a time, but my mind is quite made up now. Morton must have the place for life and the remainder must be to his son, supposing that he ever has a son. Happily I can leave you a considerable sum of money without pinching him, and I had always intended to provide for Archie. Sup- posing that things should fall out as they may, you and he, by putting your means together, would have enough to live the sort of life that I should like to think of you as living. I mean that you could have a moderate-sized country house and a sufficiency of horses. Sometimef? I have thought possibly Upton Chetwode might suit you. But these are only a sick man's fancies," concluded Mr, Bligh, laughing. " 1 amuse myself with fancies, having so little else to do. Occasionally 1 torment myself; and in one of my blackest visions I see you established in a London house, with your Aunt Susan mounting guard over you. Heavens! how wretched you would be I" Well, at any rate this man was not selfish. Perhaps he did not know what was most likely to ensure hij Mi )f! *tB If^ i m i I I V » in 120 MISADVENTURE. daughter's happiness ; perhaps he did not sufficiently realise that the destiny of every individual on eartn is, or ought to be the property of that indivi<1ual. All his life he had been accustomed to be a ruler, and in some measute to sway the destinies of a large number of de- pendents. But of himself he had thought little enough; and this was what struck Cicely, as she rose and looked clown upon his somewhat wistful face, " You are always doing things or wanting to do things, lor other people, papa," she said. " We must try and show our gratitude by pleasing ourselves, in order to please you." Then she bent down and kissed him and left the room. There were tears in her eyes he noticed, and he wondered why. lie did not, however imagine that they were caused by any dread of tfc^ future which he had sketched out for her. CHAPTER XV. MARK MAKES PEACE. Her father's avowal of his wishes did not come upon Cicely as any surprise. She had divined them some time back — in truth they had not been very carefully disguised — and although he had not been quite as explicit with her as he had been with Archie, he might have been so and yet told her little that she did not already understand. Evidently there was something more than a possibility that Morton might die without issue, and just as evidently it must have been necessary to make arrangements for the succession, in that event, of a Bligh worthy of the name. Now there was but one such man in existence besides the present owner of the property ; and what could be more natural than that that owner should desire to bring about a match which in time might have the effect of restoring his daughter to the position of authority and beneficence of which his own demise would deprive her ? The match, in fact, was undoubtedly a desirable one. Cicely was able to contemplate it without repug- MISADVENTURE. 121 nance, if without enthusiasm. She was not in love with Archie, but then she was not in love with anybody else. nor likely to be, and she worshipped her father. Her feeling at the moment was that if, by marrying her cousin, she could relieve her father's mind of anxiety and so pro- long his life, she would not hesitate for a moment to make what, after all, could hardly be called a sacrifice. Nobody, at any rate, should suspect that it was a sacrifice. One must do these things with a good grace if one is to do them at all ; and why Cicely, who was not given to weep- ing, should have found it necessary to dry her eyes at frequent intervals for half an hour after coming to this conclusion it would be useless to inquire, since she* herself did not know. She supposed that she was crying jecause she hated so to talk or think about her father's death — which, to be sure, was a plausible reason enough. When she had dressed for dinner she returned to the library, where she found an unexpected guest in conver- sation with her father. ♦' You will think that I am developing into a very obtrusive neighbour," Mark Chetwode said, as he rose to shake hands with her, •' but your brother must bear the blame. He came to see me this afternoon and insisted on bringing me back with him, though I a^ure you that I defended myself to the best of my power." " Didn't you want to come, then ? " asked Cicely, laughing. •' Ah, that is a question which requires no answer. But I know that in England a man who presents himself at the dinner-hour w^ithout an invitation takes a very great liberty. In Russia it is different." ♦♦ My dear sir, didn't I invite you ? " called out Morton from the arm-chair in which he was lounging at the other end of the room. " Let it be supposed that we are Russians, if that will make you any happier." " Mr. Chetwode will be good enough to suppose nothing of the kind," returned Cicely. " We are English, and so is he ; and if he were anything else he wouldn't be half as welcome as he is, I can tell him." In point of fact, his presence was particularly welcome to her that evening ; because, after what had passed between her and her father, she was conscious of a novel , ) 122 MISADVENTURE. and not very agreeable sensation of embarrassment, which prevented her from talking to Archie with her accustomed freedom. Her father, she was aware, had been makinp: confidential statements to Archie as well as to her, and it was more than probable that he had received confidential statements in return. Under the circumstances, it was a relief to have to exert oneself for the entertainment of an outsider. No great exertion, however, was required in order to entertain Mr. Chetwode upon this occasion. It was rather he who exerted himself, and when he chose to exert him self he could be very pleasant company. Without seeming to take any trouble about it (though of course such a thing can't be done without a good deal of trouble), he contrived to draw everybody round the dinner-table into a conversation which he turned hither and thither as he pleased. What was more, he managed to put them all upon pretty good terms with themselves, and consequently with him. Meanwhile he kept his faculties of observation on the alert and made a few trifling discoveries. It did not take him long to detect Archie's subdued excitement and Cicely's somewhat forced gaiety, nor was he slow to note the circumstance that Mr. Bligh's eyes kept wander- ing from his daughter to his nephew and back again. But these things were far from disquieting him. The first act of the little domestic drama was drawing towards a close, he thought, and its conclusion would clear the ground. Obviously the nephew, strongly supported by the uncle, was about to make his proposal ; obviously, too, he was about to be rejected : for Mark was convinced that Cicely's affection for her cousin was of a purely cousinly nature. He, for his part, therefore, had at present nothing to do but to bide his time and make himself unobtrusively agreeable. " My dear," said Miss Skipwith to Cicely, when the two ladies had returned to the drawing-room, a vast apart- ment which was seldom occupied at any other hour of the day, " I don't, as you know, pretend to any great insight into character, but it does seem to me that Mr. Chetwode is a most remarkable man." '♦ Very remarkable," agreed Cicely, who was not think- ing about Mr. Chetwode at the moment, MISADVENTtJRB. m " He has so much more information than most of the young men whom one meets nowadays ; and then his man- ners are so very superior to theirs ! To be sure it is no great compHment to him to say that ; because some of them really have no manners at ail. Look at your cousin Archie, for instance. I dare say he doesn't mean to be rude, but he has a way of yawning under one's very nose which I can't think gentleman-like ; and, to my mind, he is not nearly careful enough about the language that he uses in the presence of ladies." " Has he been saying anything indecent ? '" asked Cicely, absently. •* My dear Cicely 1 Of course, I only meant that he was too much given to slang expressions. Mr. Chetwode, if you have noticed, never interlards his conversation with slang. Mr. Chetwode, in short," concluded Miss Skipwith emphatically, " is a thorough gentleman." " The inference," observed Cicely, " is flattering to us all. If Archie isn't a gentleman, I suppose the rest of us must be snobs ; for there's no getting over the fact that his blood is the same as ours." " It is not altogether a question of blood, my dear; and I am sure that I never denied that your cousin was a gentleman. One may disapprove of a person notwith- standing his being a gentleman by birth." That Miss Skipwith disapproved of Archie was an old story, and her motives for so doing were no secret to her niece ; but when, encouraged by the latter's silence, the old lady went on to say that no true gentleman was schem- ing or self-seeking, that greed of money was peculiarly repellent in the young, and a good deal more to the like effect, Cicely grew a little impatient. " If I wanted to create a prejudice against anyone, I should not set to work in your way. Aunt Susan," she remarked. " One can hardly expect to succeed unless one can hit upon some charges which have at least a faint show of probability about them. But of course you're not a good calumniator, you poor old Aunt Susan," he added, softening at the sight of Miss Skipwith's conscience- stricken countenance : " how should you be ? And you're quite wrong about Archie — if that matters." So saying she moved towards the piano, by way of i 1 I I] I f >! I I 111 4 HI I 9t| 124 MISADVENTUBE. i closing the conversation, while Miss Skipwith sighed heavily. In the dining-room things were not going on quite so smoothly as they had done before the departure of the ladies. As soon as the men were left to themselves, Mr. Bligh apologised to his guest and requested his son to do the honors for him. He had had a rather tiring day, he said, and felt quite worn out. •* I dare say Mr. Chetwode will kindly excuse my lack of ceremony in consideration of my infirmity." So his servant was rung for and presently he was wheeled away. *♦ Breaking up fast," remarked Morton laconically, after the door had closed. " Oh, I hope not," said Mark, wishing to be polite. Mr. Bligh's heir-apparent laughed rather disagreeably. " No amount of hoping will keep the governor alive much longer," answered he ; " and as far as that goes, I shouldn't think he himself cared about living. What's the use of remaining alive when you've lost the use of your legs ? You are only a burden to yourself and to others." Archie cracked a walnut with unnecessary noise, threw the crackers down upon the ground and muttered some- thing under his breath. ** I beg your pardon," said Morton, turning round upon him at once with a deferential smile ; •♦ did you make a remark ? " " Yes," answered Archie, *• I made a remark. But perhaps I had better not repeat it." Mark hastily threw himself into the breach with some question about the vintage of the claret they v/ere drinking ; but Morton, who may have been a little under the influ- ence of that excellent wine, or may have been determined to exaspeirate his cousin — possibly both causes were at ork — did not choose to be put to silence. I always think," said he, throwing himself back in his ' . u and nursing his leg comfortably, ''that the humbug .' . ' Tyday life is the most gratuitous of the many miseries A' i h we are in the habit of inflicting upon ourselves in this country. It serves absolutely no purpose, because nobody is deceived by it ; it makes political speeches in- tolerably dull and leading articles simply unreadable. MISADVENTURE. 12f One must forgive lawyers, and parsons, and diplomat- ists, because it's their trade to say what they don't think, and their bread and butter depends on it ; but why the deuce shouldn't the rest of us acknowledge what we can't conceal ? In my own humble way I endeavour to do so ; and when a man is palpably dying I don't pretend to think that he will live for another twenty years." Mark tried to give the discussion an academical turn, and for a short space of time he was successful. He could not, however, do the whole of the talking himself and so Morton soon found an opportunity of harking back to the original subject. "Family affection," said he, "maybe a very pretty thing where it exists; but where it doesn't exist, and where everybody knows that it doesn't, one merely behaves like a fool by making a show of it. When a man stands between me and a fortune, and when he happens to be afflicted with an incurable disease into the bargjain, I con fess that nothing seems to me more desirable than his re- moval to a happier sphere." This was too much for Archie, who exclaimed : '* I believe you're the only man in England, Morton, who would say such a thing as that about his father in his father's house ! " ♦' In all probability I am," agreed Morton, impertur- ably ; " that is just what I modestly venture to pride my- self upon. You'll admit that I'm not theonly man in Eng- land who holds such views ; my peculiarity consists in my (expressing them. And, mind you, I shouldn't for a moment hesitate to express them to the governor himself." •' Even you would hardly be such a blackguard as that ! " cried Archie, hotly. If Morton's object had been to make a short tempered young man angry, he had attained it ; but his own temper, though of a very different order, was not in the least under his control, and for all his love of plain language, it did not please him to hear himself called a blackguard. He shot a singularly malevolent glance across the table at his cousm as he said : — *• All the same, you are quite as anxious as I am — a little more anxious, perhkps — to hear the governor's will read. You have done your best, in your rather clumsy ! I, r 126 MISADVENTURE. way, to cut me out ; but I shouldn't wonder if you were to meet with a disappointment after all. Toadying doesn't always pay." " I can't submit to such a gross insult as that from any man," Archie answered, jumping up. •' Ycu must apologise lor it at once, or either you or I must leave the house." '* A more appalling threat I never heard," chuckled Morton. " It will be painful to lose you ; but I am afraid we must make up our minds to the loss, because I don't intend tc go, and I certainly don't intend to apologise." At this juncture Mark the pacificator thought it high time to intervene. " Pardon me, gentlemen," said he with a certain air of authority, " but you are both very much in the wrong. You liave both said things which you do not really mean, and which I am sure you will see that you ought to retract." Each of the disputants shook his head decisively, but Mark took no notice of that. He proceeded to point out that in a country like England, where the satisfaction which would be promptly demanded and granted elsewhere has been done away with by common consent, opprobrious epithets are clearly inadmissible. Then, with some adroit- ness, he observed that Morton could not actually believe in the very offensive charge which he had brought against his cousin, or he never would have put it into words. When one is apprehensive of being supplanted, one does not carefully put one's possible supplanter in the right and oneself in the wrong. " Of course," he added, " I know nothing of Mr. Bligh's inteniions and very little of his ethical standard ; but I know that if I had a son who had forced a guest of mine to leave my house by insulting him, I should feel that I owed every reparation to my guest and the sharpest punishment I could inflict to my son." By the time that he had finished his harangue he had made one of the men ashamed of himself and had fright- ened the other ; and so the incident terminated with a somewhat grudging exchange of apologies. The cousins, it need scarcely be said, were no better friends than they had been before ; but they perceived the expediency of adjourning their quarrel. Morton went straight off to the smoking-room, while the other two joined Miss Skipwith MISADVENTURE. 127 and Cicely ; and as the latter was still seated at the piano, Mark contrived to exchange a few words with her in private, under cover of the resonant chords which she continued to strike upon that instrument. ♦• If you are not careful there will be bloodshed in this house," said he laughingly. " I have patched up a peace for to-night ; but I do not answer for the future." Cicely looked alarmed. " Have Morton and Archie fallen out ? " she asked, anxiously. " Very much so. At home — in Russia, I mean — I could have done nothing ; matters went too far. As it was I induced them to shake hands: quitter a recommencer." " They must not be allowed to quarrel ! " exclaimed Cicely. '* It would distress papa beyond everything ; and there is really no reason why they should quarrel." •* As for that, of course I do not know ; but I doubt whether they can be kept within bounds unless they are held back by strong hands, Could you, do you think, restrain your cousin ? For your brother " — here^ Mark could not repress a look of contempt, which Cicely saw without resenting — " I really believe that I may venture to make myself responsible." Now this was very kind of Mr. Chetwode, and Cicely felt proportionately grateful to him. She endeavoured to express her thanks, but had not much time for doing so, because Miss Skipwith and Archie, who had nothing to say to one another, very soon interrupted her. Mark, however, went away very well satisfied with his evening's work. He had somewhat strengthened his hold over Morton, he had averted, what might have been a little dangerous, the elevation of Archie to the rank of an aggrieved person, and, best of all, he had established something like a secret understanding with Miss Bligh. ^1 1 ; 4 1 J if H'M f^ n I II I' 12H MlbADVJii^TU^E, CHAPTER XVI. ARCHIE S TRIUMPH. While Cicely was dressing on the following morning she made up her mind to give her cousin a lecture. Al- though she had been a good deal distressed at hearing that the dining-room had so nearly been made the scene of an unseemly brawl, Archie's foolish behaviour had at least had the effect of making her more comfortable in one respect, inasmuch as it had relieved Ijier of the unwonted feeling of shyness in his presence with which she had been afflicted the night before. In her heart she rather liked him for attacking Morton, who, she was sure, had deserved it ; still he must certainly be lectured. So, as soon as breakfast was over, she followed him into the conservatory, whither he had betaken himself with^ cigarette and a handful of letters, and drawing a wicker chair up to his side, seated herself upon it with an air of stern resolution. *' Archie," said she, " I am sorry to find that you can't keep your word — or your temper either 1 " Archie raised a somewhat troubled countenance from his correspondence. " Has that beast, Morton, been telling you anything ? " he asked. " No, ' that beast, Morton,' has kept his own counsel. It was Mr. Chetwode who told me that he had had to drag you apart. Now, you know, Archie, you promised me you wouldn't quarrel with Morton." " I don't think I quite promised that, did I ? I said I wouldn't quarrel with him if I could help it, and goodness knows I have tried hard enough to help it ! But there must be limits to ever)- body's patience and meekness. You don't know what things that fellow says." " Why will you never understand that it doesn't signify what he says ? " •» I can't help feeling that it does signify a little to me when he tells roe that I have done my very best to cut hiro MISADVENTURE. l-i!) out of his inheritance, and that I came down here on purpose to * toady' Uncle Wilfrid." " Did he say that ? " " Yes, • toady ' was the very word that he used. Ought I to have bowed and held my tongue ? " *' Well — it isn't true, you see ; and he only said it to enrage you, not because he believed it." " So Chetwode seemed to think ; but I don't know that one ought to be expected to submit to an insult just be cause it is a palpable lie. However I had told liim a few minutes before that he was a blackguard — which he is — so that I had to some extent put myself in the wrong, and we ended by burying the hatchet." •• I'm afraid you buried it in some place where it can very easily be scratched up again. I don't feel that 1 have much right to scold you, Archie, because you cer- tainly have been patient upon the whole, and you have had a good deal to put up with ; but will you waive your rights and be patient a little longer, for papa's sake "and mine ? " The young man's face brightened up wonderfully at this appeal. *' Of course I will," he answered. " I'm not very good- tempered, I'm sorry to say, and sometimes I feel as if it would be a righteous deed to catch Morton by the throat and choke him. But I won't choke him, or even tell him what I think of him again. After all, if he becomes un- bearable one can always go out of the room. Besides," he added, with a sigh and a change of tone, " I shan't have many more chances of giving trouble, for I have just had orders to join at Aldershot on Friday, instead of a fortnight hence as I expected. It's a horrid bore." •♦ Will you think me very unkind if I say that I am glad ? " asked Cicely. '* When Morton came you begged me not to leave you alone with him," Archie remarked, rather reproachfully. " Yes, because I didn't think then that he would stay long; but now I don't see any prospect of getting rid of him, and though I quite believe that you will try your best to be forbearing, it isn't pleasant for you or me or any- body to go on as we have been doing lately. As it is, we'll manage to enjoy ourselves during your last few days. i •.;'i'<. ' i: HI i hi i M FT J i! m 130 MISADVENTURE. Now I must be off, or I shall get behindhand with all my morning's duties." On her way through the hall she encountered Morton, to whom she thought it might be as well to impart the news of Archie's imminent departure, and who heard it with a satisfaction which he made no attempt to disguise. Morton, as it happened, had that morning received an urgent summons to London where certain private affairs of his, which have nothing to do with this narrative, demanded his attention ; but he had almost decided to let these affairs look after themselves as best they could, becau5=e he did not lil;e the idea of leaving the enemy in possession of the field. Now, however, the case was altered. Archie might, it was true, offer himself to Cicely in the course of the next day or two ; but that he could not, under any circumstances, have prevented him from doing, and it was needless to keep strict watch and ward over a man who would so soon be out of the way. When once he was gone, time would be upon the side of Cicely's affectionate brother and Mark Chetwode. Morton, therefore, said : — " I find I shall have to run up to London myself this afternoon. Only for three days, though ; so you needn't shed tears. Let mc see, this is Thursday, and I promised to dine with Chetwode on Monday. I think I could just manage to get through what I have to do by Monday evening, and I can drive straight to Upton Chetwode from the station. By the way, if you're going to the back regions you might tell somebody that I shall want the brougham at three o'clock sharp." At luncheon, when the whole party met, Morton was in high good humour and charmindy affable with every- body, actually offering to charge himself with any com- missions that his aunt might desire to have executed in London. So pleased was he to notice that Cicely's spirits had been in no way depressed by the intelligence which had exhilarated his own that he announced his intention of buying her a birthday present. " I don't know when your birthday is, but as I probably forgot it last year and the year before, I have some arrears to make up." Even for Archie he had a word or two of sour-sweet civility. vr MtSADVENttinii. 131 •• Going back to your rc^Mment, I hear. Well, I should think you will find Alclershot rather livelier than Abbots- port. Sorry we haven't been able to make your stay pleasanter ; but our resources are limited, as you know. We'll try to do better if you look us up next winter. I suppose you'll harcll\ get leave again before tiien ? " With a truly heroic eflort, Archie summoned up a dis- torted smile, which nearly upset Cicely's gravity, and grunted out " Thanks." To be spoken to as though he had been Morton's guest and to receive Morton's apologies for the dulness of the Priory was indeed hard to bear. However, the man was going, and he had three happy days to look forward to ; at least, he hoped they would be happy, and in his anxiety to make them so it seemed to him wisest to put off till the last hour the momentous question upon which the happiness of his future life must depend. But when Morton had been whirled away in the broug- ham, and when Cicely, of her own accord, invited him to walk with her as far as the gamekeeper's cottage, where she had a sick child to visit, he felt so much encouraged that he began to reconsider 'that decision. After all, she already knew that he loved her ; would it not be better to tell her so plainly, instead of to keep hinting at it ? To be at once accepted was more than he hoped for ; he would be quite satisfied with an admission that he need not altogether despair. No sooner, therefore, had he and his companion reached the outskirts of the woods through which their path lay than he drew a long breath and plunged head first into a subject to which he had made several futile attempts to lead up. ♦* You said, this morning," he began, rather hoarsely, " that we would enjoy ourselves during my last few days here. There is only one thing that can make me enjoy myself now, and I needn't tell you what that is. Can you give it me. Cicely ! " The girl stood still, looking at him seriously and with a sort of kindly compassion. *' 1 don't know," she answered ; " it depends upon how much you ask for." " Oh, I only ask for a very little," he declared, eagerly. ♦' If you will but give me leave to hope that perhaps, some k iii >t"i ; v I 1 If !■■ ^ si i ■ 1 'I . i 11 I 132 MiSADVENTtJKE. day, you may care for me a tenth part as much as I car€ for you, that shall be enough." And gaining courage, now that he was fairly under way, he launched forth into fervent protestations which, like all words that come straight from the heart, had a certain effect of eloquence, but of which it would scarcely be fair to give a verbatim report. When he paused. Cicely, who had resumed her walk, held out her hand to him and said, in a far humbler tone than was usual with her : — '• Thank you, Archie ; any woman might be proud to be loved bj' you, and I know very well how little I deserve to be loved in that way — but I suppose one's deserts haven't much to say to such questions. Now I want to tell you the exact truth. I wish I loved you as you love me ; but I don't." •' Of course you don't 1 " interrupted Archie. " I never dreamt of such a thing. I shall be more than content if you can care for me the least little bit." " 1 care a great deal," Cicely answered ; ♦' but perhaps a great deal isn't enough. I don't think it is my nature to fall desperately in love with anybody, and in many ways I seem to myself to be cut out for an old maid. Bui I know that nothing could make papa happier than to hear that we were engaged, and if we were married I think I could promise to be a good wife to you. It isn't as if I liked anyone else better," she added almost de- precatingly. Archie had never anticipated being met in such a spirit as that. He was overjoyed, and could only stammer out incoherent phrases of delight and gratitude. '• But, Cicely," he broke off suddenly, •• will you be ha^ 1 y with me ? That is the question." bhe shook her head. " No." she answered with a calmer insight into the future than he could as yet attain to, ** that isn't the ques- tion. The question is whether you will be happy with me. What satisfies you now may not satisfy you always ; you may think that if I am not in love with you at this moment I shall he before long — and then you may be disappointed." Of course that was just what he did think, and most MISA.DVENTURE. 133 people would have told him that, under the circumstances, he was fully justified in so thinking. A man when he is in love is aware of the fact ; but it is said — truly or un- truly — that women are often unconscious of their own sentiments, and there is also an impression, so general that it can hardly be altogether devoid of foundation, to the effect that in nine cases out of ten a wife will end by lovmg her husband unless he treats her badly. Archie, however, as was but natural, disclaimed such ambitious aspirations. He was willing and thankful to take all risks, he declared, and it was quite impossible that he could incur any disappointments. Well, whatever the future might have in store for him he had not much to complain of in the present. Cicely had no idea of doing things by halves, and since Archie was going to be her husband, it was her duty, she thought, to please him. Her efforts in that direction were quite successful and met with their reward ; because in pleasing him she also to some extent pleased herself. It is, no doubt pleasant to be adored. Besides, she was really very fond of Archie. The gamekeeper's little daughter was in luck that afternoon ; for not only did she receive a visit from Miss Cicely (whom she loved, yet of whom she was considerably in awe), but after a time a very nice gentleman, who had been waiting about in the garden, stepped in, cracked some excellent jokes, and, on leaving, slipped nothing less than a golden sovereign into her small palm ! Indeed it is well that that did not happen to be one of Cicely's days for going the round of Abbotsport, otherwise it is to be feared that night would have fallen upon some distressing scenes of intemperance. When one is exceptionally happy it is only human that one should wish to give others a chance of being happy too, if they can manage it ; but one can't expect everybody to drink one's health, and Miss Skipwith was was very much disinclined to pay Archie that compliment on being requested to do so, the same evening, by her brother-in-law. Miss Skipwith could not but feel that Cicely was throwing herself away sadly ; added to which the triumph of Archie was very bitter to her. When Mr. Bligh, in the exuberance of his satisfaction, proposed the ' i I r ■m ^ i i si !|i i lU Misadventure. above toast after dinner, the old lady raised her glass to her lips and set it down again with its contents undimin- ished. She became, however, a little more reconciled to the engagement when she was subsequently informed that Archie's triumph was not quite of the kind that she had imagined, and that it was not in contemplation to make him the inheritor of his uncle's estates. That was satisfactory in so far as it served to clear his character ; but it was melancholy to think that Morton, not Cicely, was destined to rc.gn at the Priory, and she could not resist saying as much to her informant, who answered : — " I am quite of your opinion, Susan ; it is melancholy. Nevertheless it is inevitable ; so we may as well put a brij^dit face upon it." When ]\Ir. Bligh spoke in that tone of voice his sister- in-law always succumbed. He was a man who, as regarded tiilles, preferred giving in to being worried, so that she not unfrcquently found it to be her duty to worry him ; but in matters of more importance he took his own way, and had a quiet and convincing fashion of letting those about him understand that he meant to do so. Miss Skip- with, therefore, endeavoured to put on a bright face, which feat was the more easy of accomplishment because Cicely's face was so bright. The main thing, after, all was that Cicely should be happy. And happy Cicely certainly appeared to be. During the next three days she rode, walked and talked with Archie continuallv, and did not weary of his company. No doubt she saw him at his best, which she had not always done of late ; but after making all deductions, the fact remained that he was, as she had told him, a man of whose love any woman might be proud, and she did not regret her choice. Once or twice, to be sure, she thought with a pang of poor Bobby ; but perhaps Bobby would not hear of her engagement before he had reached his tropical destination, and by that time his wound would probably have healed. The engagement it was agreed, was not be to formally announced as yet, nor was any date fixed for the marriage. •' I can't leave papa with only Aunt Susan to attend him," Cicely said ; and Archie acquiesced. It was jnly too plain that the delay stipulated for was not likely :o be a very long one. MISADVENTURE. 135 Mr. BJigh, for his part, was in no hurry to get rid of his daughter, and thought it as well that the young man should return to duty for a time. He wished him, how- ever, to send in his papers before his marriage, and this Archie expressed his willingness to do. Indeed, when the day came for his departure he felt very much inclined to send them in forthwith. ♦• I beg you will do no such thing ! " said Cicely, laugh- ing. '• Have you forgotten that Morton comes back to- night ? " *• I'm not afraid of him," answered Archie. " Perhaps not ; but I am. At least I should be in per- petual terror of your devduring one another if you were both living in the house. No, I should prefer your remain- ing at Aldershot until he has accustomed his mind to the idea that you will be his brother in-law some day. It's a merciful thing that you will have leit before he arrives." " I suppose I had better go up by the three-thirty train," observed Archie ruefully. " That depends upon whether you want to be at Aider- shot this evening or not. If not, you might stay until after dinner ; because Morton is going to dine at Upton Chetwode and intends to dress there, so that there is not much fear of his appearance here before the coast is clear !" Archie jumped at this reprieve as eagerly as if he had been a school-boy on the last day of the holidays. He was, in truth, very like a school-boy in more ways than one, and that perhaps was what had won him the place which he held in Cicely's heart ; for she always got on best with those whom she could patronise a little. His talk, when he was happy and at his ease, v/as of that artlessly selfish kind which no one, surely, can help enjoying. He would chatter away by the hour about his brother officers and the exceedingly humorous practical jokes which they were wont to play upon one another, and about polo and tent- pegging and pig-sticking and other enlivenments of Indian military life, while Cicely encouraged him by her questions. Perhaps one reason why she never wearied of hearing liim dilate upon these themes was that the discussion of them prevented him from being too affectionate. " Would there be any harm," he asked her, " in telling the fellows that I am engaged to be married ? It's sg difiicult to keep a thing of that sort to oneself!" £i 136 MISADVENTURE. " By all means tell them, if you like," answered Cicely, laughing ; *' there is no occasion to make a secret of it. Only I hope you won't bore them by dwelling too much upon the perfections of your betrothed." *• Oh, they won't mind," Archie declared reassuringly. " Especially if they know that I shall leave the regiment when I marry. Of course we don't care about having many married men." " And areii't you afraid that you will miss your friends, and polo, and all the rest of it, when you settle down to a humdrum country life ? " He made the reply which might have been anticipated. Life with her on a desert island would be a thousand times better than life anywhere without her ; but life in the neighborhood of Abbotsport would be simply the realiza- tion of his wildest dream. *' And even if we did find it slow — which is impossible — we could have people down to stay with us. One can always get heaps of men to come, by offering them a little shooting or hunting." •* Well, let us hope so," said Cicely *' Papa think? Upton Chetwode would do for us. We could certainly get a lease of the place, and perhaps Mr. Chetwode might be pursuaded to sell. Papa means to sound him upon the subject, and if he is successful he says he will make us a wedding present of it. It's a dear old house ; it only wants a little outlay to be made charming." This conversation took place during the last few min- utes of Archie's stay at the Priory. It was a fine moon- light night, and as the dog cart had come round rather early, he had sent the groom on with his luggage, saying that he would walk to the station by the short cut across the fields. Cicely had accompanied him to the end of the garden, and they were now standing beside a little iron gate which divided it from the park. *' By Jove !" exclaimed the young fellow, " how awfully good Uncle Wilfrid is! It seems to me that I am just about the luckiest beggar in the whole world !" " If you think so," Cicely answered, smiling, " that is the same as being so, I suppose." Then she cut short his adieux, over which he was inclined to linger, telling him that he would have to put "▼— '1 MISADVENTURE. 137 ■ his best leg foremost if he didn't want to miss the train. She watched his tall, lithe figure as he strode across the grass in the moonlight, and waved her hand to him when he turned to signal a last farewell. She said to herself that she certainly loved him. What a pity that there should be a difference — possibly rather a wide difference — between loving and being in love ! CHAPTER XVII. MORTON SCANDALISES HIS HOST. It was well for Morton Bligh's peace of mind, and well also for the comfort of those with whom he was brought into contact in London, that he was ignorant of the ter- rible things which had been taking place at the Priory during his absence. He felt little or no anxiety upon the point ; being persuaded, for one thing, that Mark Chet- wode had produced an impression upon his sister, and, for another, that Archie had not utilised his opportunities as he might have done. ♦' To get on the blind side of the governor," solilo- quised Morton, as he sat in the train which was bearing him southwards, " one must affect a good deal of blunt- ness ; and that young fool has overdone the modest, diffi- dent business, I suspect. Anyhow, if Cicely refuses him, he's out of it ; the governor won't disinherit both his child- ren, that's certain." And very agreeable it was to Morton to reflect that it would now no longer be necessary for him to mount guard so vigilantly at the Priory. If there was one thing more abhorrent to him than another, it was rusticity ; and he would have cared httle enough about his birthright if drawing the revenues arising from the Bligh estates had implied residence upon the spot. He was never really comfortable out of London, where, although, as has been said, a good many people declined to have anything to do with him, he had still a sufficiency of friends, who may have been less particular or may have thought that his 1 i 11 138 MISADVENTURE. moral character concerned them less than his ability to provide them with capital dinners. " I shall keep coming and going ; that will be the best plan," he mused. " Unless I'm greatly mistaken, Chet- wode has swallowed the bait ; he can't want much spur- ring on or backing up. Still one ought to be upon the spot from time to time, if only for the sake of appearan- ces. It's a bore, but it's better than having to spend weeks at a stretch in that God-forsaken hole ; and I dare- say it won't last long. Those good folks may console themselves with the thought that they'll see no more of me than 1 can help after my revered predecessor has been laid to rest v.\ ib ,. mily vault. Once let me get posses- sion, and they may all go to the deuce together for any- thing that 1 ' li?ll care. Cicely will have my full consent to marry whcm ^e ^;.cases then, and if she chooses. Archie in preference to Chetwode, I shall be most happy to escort her to church and give her away. I rejoice in promoting the welfare of my fellow-creatures, so long as it doesn't interfere with my own." Revolving these and other sentiments, not less hand- some and liberal, in his mind, Morton reached the end of his journey homewards in very good humour. In obedi- ence to his instructions, a carriage had been sent from the Priory to meet him, and he was at once driven to Upton Chetwode, where he was received by Mark's French valet. That urbane personage, apologising for his master, who had not yet come in, conducted Morton to one of the spacious, dismal bedrooms, unpacked his dress clothes for him, and retired with the remark that dinner would be served in half an hour precisely. " The fellow speaks as if one of the cook's exquisite plats might be spoilt by being kept waiting," thought Morton, with some amusement. " I don't suppose there'll be much to spoil. What a nuisance it must be to be as badly off as Chetwode ! However, it's an ill wind that blows nobody any good, and his poverty makes him handy just at present. He ought to be uncommonly grateful to me for giving him such a chance of making a first-rate alliance." But when he went downstairs to the drawingroom, where his host was awaithig him, he could detect no sign m ml tu MISADVENTURE. 139 of gratitude, nor even of pleasure, upon that gentleman's face. Mark, as he held out his hand, said, " I am glad to see you," but he did not look glad ; he looked bored and worried, and responded somev/hat chillingly to the other's boisterous cordiality. Almost the first thing that Morton said was : — '* Well, thank goodness, we've seen the last of our friend Archie for some time to come. I suppose you've heard that he has gone back to his regiment ?" Mark looked at the speaker with a faint ironical smile. " Yes," he answered. ' I heard that your cousin was to leave to-day. That is good news, isn't it ?" "Well, /consider it so," answered Morton. "And," he added, with a knowing glance, " I should think you would, too." But Mark did not choose to understand this delicate allusion. He raised his eyebrows slightly, and said : — " Oh, your cousin did not interfere with me in any way. I seldom met him, and had not your reasons for disliking him." Morton, who was a good deal afraid of the man whom he hoped to make his accomplice, did not venture to pur- sue the subject farther, and presently they adjourned to the dining-room, where, to the great surprise of the guest, a very cleverly cooked little dmner was set before them. After a time Morton could no longer refrain from com- menting upon the phenomenon. " Where the deur.e did you get your cook from, Chet- wode ? Not from Abbotsport, or anywhere near it, I'll be bound." " Well, no," answered Mark. " My cook — or at least the person who has been so kind as to cook for us to-night — hails from Paris. For the credit of the house he doesn't mind exercising his skill when 1 have a guest ; but he won't cook for me, and when I am alone I am at the mercy of an aged native who can just manage a mutton- chop and no more. Fortunately, I don't care much what I eat or drink." Morton, who cared a very great deal, thought it still more fortunate that the establishment included an inter- mittent cuhnary artist. He did full justice to each dish m turn, and also thoroughly appreciated the wine, which, for ^■ I \ t t i i 1 i ^. El \A 140 MISADVENTURE. many years past, had been maturing in a locked-up cellar ; so that by the time he had been provided with black coffee and a cigarette he saw the world and all that therein is through a beautiful rose-coloured haze. And now it was that Mark, who during dinner had spoken little, had drunk less, and had scarcely eaten at all. judged it appropriate to make a communication which motives of hospitality and charity had thus far induced him to withhold. ** I am afraid, my dear BHgh," said he, '• that I am going to tell you something which will not exactly delight you. From all that you have been saying, I presume that you have not yet heard the news of your sister's engage- ment to your cousin." " What ! " exclaimed Morton, starting so violently that he spilt the half of his coffee. " Oh, I see — you're chaffing. You wouldn't take it quite so coolly as that if it were true." " Why should I not take it coolly ? " asked Mark. • " At all events, it is perfectly true." "I don't believe it!" ^i^iton declared. "If you aren't humbugging me, somebody has been humbugging you." " Possibly ; but I think not. My informant was Mrs. Lowndes, whom I met this afternoon, and who had received her information from Miss Skipwith. According to Miss Skipwith, the engagement is not to be publicly announced just yet, but the family have no wish to keep it secret from their friends. Mr. Bligh is said to be very much pleased about it." That seemed terribly circumstantial. Morton's incred- ulity gave place to a sudden gust of fury, and he burst forth into language respecting his father which cannot be be reported here. ** Pleased ! " he exclaimed. •* I should rather think he would be pleased 1 Why, he has been moving heaven and earth to bring about this accursed marriage ! It shan't take place though. I'll stop it — we must stop it ! Dash it all, man, why do you sit grinning there, as if it were a good joke ? Don't you understand that everything de- pends upon our putting a stop to this at once ? " Mark surveyed his angry questioner with unconcealed contempt 9^i^ disgust^ ill MISADVENTURE. 141 " I quite understand," he answered coldly, '• that your prospect of becoming your father's heir depends in all probability upon your power to break off a match which he seems to have arranged. Cursing, however, will hardly help you. Might I request you, as a personal favour, not to do it any more ? It may be prejudice on my part, but it is extremely disagreeable to me to hear a man cursing his father — especially when he uses such very coarse forms of malediction." " My father hates me, and I hate him," returned Mor- ton sullenly ; " we have different ways of expressing our hatred, that's all. I'm sorry I shocked your sense of pro- priety ; but you must allow that I have had great provo- cation. It's enough to put any man's back up to have such a dirty trick played upon him." " Oh, it's provoking for you, no doubt." " And not altogether pleasant for you either, I imagine. Come, Chetwode, I think you and I have understood one another pretty well, though we haven't- put our thoughts into plain English before. You know why my father wants to marry Cicely to his nephew. He would a great deal rather leave the place to her than to me, but he doesn't like to leave it to anybody but a Bligh. Consequently he had to provide her with a husband of that name. Of course, in self-defence, I had to try and find her a husband with some other name " " And you did me the great honour to select me. I was duly sensible of it." '• I don't know why you should take up that tone, Chetwode. My feeling to you has always been a most friendly one, I'm sure. I thought that if Cicely married you she would marry a gentleman and a good fellow ; and the advantage wouldn't have been all on one side, for, as I believe I told you, she will come into at least fifty thous- and pounds at her father's death. Moreover, it appeared to me that you were very willing to lend yourself to the plan." " That may be." " And if I weren't afraid of offending you, I would make so bold as to say that I thought you were becoming rather — er — fgnd of rny sister, apart from any consideration of money.'* lim M I i 42 MISADVKNTURE. •' You do not offend me by saying so." •• Well, then, my dear fellow, surely you are not going to be such a — I mean, you surely won't give up the game before it is lost. You're altogether mistaken if you imagine she has lost her heart to that long-legged donkey. She has been talked into this, and she can be talked out of it again. Not by me, I admit, because she shares the family affection for me ; but if you can't accomplish that much you're not the man I take you for. Archie hasn't got an extension of leave, I suppose, has he ? " " No ; he was to return to his regiment to day, I under- stood." • " The field is clear, then : all that you have to do is to cut him out with Cicely, which, I should say, is well within your capacity. Meanwhile, I'll do what I can with the governor. When all's said and done, he has a conscience, or flatters himself that he has. And then, I daresay, by raking about a little, I might be able to furnish him with an awkward stosy or two about his precious nephew. A man doesn't knock about a garrison town long without getting into a scrape of some sort or kind, you may be sure." Perhaps it was only this last phrase which saved Mark from yielding to the voice of the tempter and entering into a discreditable compact. During the first part of Morton's speech his eyes had brightened ; after which he had turned them away and gazed pensively at his neat little shoes. But if his code of honour was hardly that of an ordinary English gentleman, it was not wide enough to admit asso- ciation with such a pitiable sneak as Morton Bligh. There- fore he only said : — " You are very flattering, but I am afraid you must not count on my assistance." •* Why not ? " asked Morton sharply. " For various reasons, with which I won't trouble you : because I should despair of making you understand them." " The long and the short of it is, then, that you mean to leave me in the lurch." ••If you like to call it so." " Hum I Well, you're a nice sort of friend, I must say For the first time that evening Mark laughed outright. MISADVENTURE. 143 •• You honour me very much when you describe me as your friend," said he, •♦ and I would not for the world ap- pear ungracious or ungrateful Still I can't resist asking you whether you were really under the impression that I should pay my addresses to your sister for love of you ? " Morton made no reply. A liqueur decanter of cognac had been brought in with the coffee, and to this he had been devoting himself assiduously during the last few minutes. That was a kind of indulgence which he could never permit himself with impunity, so that by this time his ideas had lost all distinctness of outline. One thing only was quite clear to him : by hook or by crook, his sister must be prevented from marrying Archie. '• I'll clear that fellow out of my path somehow," he declared resolutely, after his host had been waiting a long time for him to speak. " I am sure it would be wise on your part to do so," answered Mark, who began to find the man rather amusing, and had got over a strong desire to kick him out of the house ; ** the only question is how are you to do it ? In this over-civilised country one can't assassinate one's ene- mies, or even get them assassinated." But Morton was very bold and said : — ♦♦ If I had him here now he shouldn't leave this room alive, I can tell you ! " Whereat Mark laughed again. For a time it was a little diverting to listen to the vapourings of this half-tipsy fool ; but when these degen- erated into mere impotent blasphemy Mark grew disgusted once more, and out of sheer weariness began to take Archie's part. " I really don't see why you should feel so much ani- mosity against him," he said at length. " He appears to me to be a very commonplace, honest sort of a yru i,]- man, and quite genuinely in love with his cousin." " Oh, you think so, do you ? " snarled Morton. '• That's all you know about him. Commonplace he may be ; but I'll be shot if he's honest 1 Anybody, except the governor, who didn't choose to see, would have seen what his game was all along. Why, even old Aunt Susan saw it ! I'm not beat, yet, though, I can tell him. He shall live to re- gret having stolen a march upon me ? " And so forth, and so forth, for the best part of another »i>j^ ^ 1 f a M I t' ^ 5 •w 144 MISADVENTURE. I quarter of an hour. Morton showed no disposition to move, nor was it possible to get him to talk about any- thing save the one all-important subject. The longest lane, however, has a turning, and when the liqueur de- canter had been drained to its last drop, Morton rose, steadying himself by the table, and said he supposed it was about time to order the brougham. Mark rang the bell with alacrity, and then was revealed the unpleasant circumstance that no brougham was forth- coming. Perhaps the disused stables were not fit for horses to be put up in ; perhaps the coachman, having received no orders to wait, may have taken it for granted that Morton proposed to sleep where he dined ; or, perhaps (for like the rest of the servants at the Priory he had no love for his future master), he may not have been unwilling to play a trick upon that gentleman. In any case he had driven straight home, and it was now too late to think of sending to Abbotsport for a By. What was to be done ? Mark, of course, could do no less than offer his guest a bed ; but he was relieved when the latter, after considering for a while and heaping many injurious epithets upon the coachman, decided that he would walk home. ♦' Well, it's a beautiful night," said Mark. It was a beautiful night, and the moonlight made everything so clear that even a man in Morton's condition could see his way as well as if it had been noon-day. Whether, even if it had been noon-day, it would have been quite safe to let him go home alone was another question ; but Mark was so thoroughly sick of him that he felt quite unable to offer his services as an escort. He stood on the steps and watched the departure of the belated reveller, who really went wonderfully straight, considering all things. Every now and then he stopped and pawed the air in the attempt to ascend an imaginary hill, and once or twice he took great pains to circumnavi- gate some non-existent obstacle ; but he kept on moving in the right direction, and there seemed to be a very fair chance of his reaching his destination eventually. " And if he tumbles into a ditch and lies there till he dies, nobody will be one penny the worse," reflected Mark. " That, however, will not happen. He is far too obnoxious a member of society to come to an untimely end," MISADVENTURE. 145 Mark turned away from the door and strolled across the terrace on the south side of the house, where there was a stone balustrade, overgrown with ivy and lichen. Upon this he dropped his elbows, and so stood for a long time, lost in gloomy meditation. The intelligence which inquisitive little Mrs. Lowndes had taken such pleasure in imparting to him had fallen upon him like a thunderbolt from a clear sky. The idea of reconstructing his fallen fortunes by means of a marriage with Cicely Bligh was one which at first he had contemplated with little more than languid acquiescence, but latterly, as we know, his feelings had undergone a change ; and then, too, there is all the difference in the world between a desirable thing which you may have for the asking and a thing which you can't possibly have, however much you may desire it. He had, it is true, soon discovered that the siege and capture of Cicely's heart would be a task demanding some skill, labour and patience, but he ha(' looked forward with a good deal of confidence to the result of his operations. He had made the mistake of despising Archie ; he had felt convinced that the young man's chance was not worth considering, and now he was bitterly disappointed. And the worst of it was that it was not the loss of her fortune that disappointed him. He tried to persuade himself that it was, and he was in a measure successful, because the prospect of lingering on at Upton Chetwode in extreme poverty was appalling enough, but in the end tie had to face the truth, which was anything but welcome to him. " I love her," he muttered, " and a pre'tty fool I am for my pains ! It is rather late in the day for me to be making myself miserable because a little girl prefers a subaltern with a pair of spurs and a long sword to a middle-aged civilian. Don't little girls always prefer sub- alterns to middle-aged civilians ? And are their preferences a matter of any importance ? Yet — ho\v can one help oneself ? It is a malady like other human maladies, and one gets over it in time, as one gets over the others unless one happens to die of them. But it hurts while it lasts." He sighed and turned back into the house, where one of Madame SouraviefTs bulky letters was lying on his table unopened. He smiled ironically as his eve fell on it, remembering that he had once been deeply in love with Madame Souravieff. I'iiy ii < ■! w ■ i t- ■', '■I i w ': * t 1^ ': i 146 MISADVENTURE. '* Come,*' he said to hiniRelf, " there are compensations m every lot ; now at least I have escaped the risk of being poisoned or stabbed." CHAPTER XVIII. FORTUNA SiEVO L^ETA NEGOTIO. A PECULIAR feature of English railway management, which everybody must have noticed, is that the train is invariably behind its time when one turns up at the station with five minutes to spare, and just as invariably punctual if, by some unusual mischance, one happens to be a minute or two late. Archie, perhaps, was not yet suffi- ciently advanced in life to have learnt that this is a rule without an exception ; at all events, he was not much alarmed when, on consulting his watch, he found he had run things rather fine. The express was due at Abbots- port Road at 10.30 ; it was now twenty-eight minutes past ten, and he was still nearly a quarter of a mile from the station. However, he set out at a slinging trot and had the satisfaction of arriving breathless upon the platform just as the tail lamp of the expresr. was disappearing. *' Dear me, sir, you was very nearly in time," said the porter commiseratingly. " I've got vour luggage labelled, but I didn't like to put it in — not afore I see you, sir." "What on earth am I to do?" ejaculated Archie. " I'm bound to be at Aldershot to-morrow morning." •• Oh, that'll be all right, sir ; there's the 12.15 *^s'll get you up plenty o' time, though 'tis a slew train." Weil, this was better than having to order a special; still it was a ^ery great nuisance, and the prospect of waiting an hour and three-quarters on a deserted platform was not cheerful. Archie, however, was in so happy a mood that night that he was prepared to accept all ordi- nary annoyances philosophically, and he did not spend much time in grumbling. Having lighted a cigar he tried walking up and down the platform for a few minutes ; but finding that intolerable, he left the precincts of the station and sauntered across the fields in a seaward direction, I MISADVENTURE. 147 congratulating himself upon the mildness and beauty of the night. After all, he had so much to think about that the time did not seem very long. It is a pathetic testi- mony to the predominant sadness of life that no one ever doubts the reality of his misfortunes, whereas the effecf^of unexpected happiness is so frequently to shake the happy mortal's conviction of his own identity. Archie was still in that blissful state of semi-scepticism. A week ago he would have been only too thankful for a word of encour- agement from Cicely ; that she would accept him at the first time of asking he had never for a moment expected. And now he was going to be married to her ! Going to be married very soon, too, perhaps ; for although dates had not yet been mentioned, it was evident Mr. Bligh was not in lavour of indefinite delay, and that if a home could be found for his daughter near him, he would be willing to let her quit the shelter of his roof. Archie kept repeat- ing to himself that these things could not be, for the plea- sure of assuring himself that they were. He did not notice particularly in what direction he was walking, but simply followed his nose, which happened to point due south, and so, after a time, he came perforce to a stand- still; for now he had reached the edge of the cliflFs and was looking down upon a little shingly bay, where the waves broke with a soft swish and a rattle of loose pebbles far beneath him. On his right hand a portion of Abbots- port was distinguishable, and on his left was a belt of trees, towards which the footpath upon which he was standing led. Now this footpath afforded the most direct means of communication between the Priory and Upton Chetwode, and, as ill luck would have it, it was along this footpath that Morton Bligh was even then wending his homeward way. Archie was disturbed in the midst of a pleasing vision by the sound of uncertain footsteps, and, turning his head to see who was corning, recognised his cousin, who at the same moment recognised him. Both men stood still and stared. It was no longer possible to avoid a meeting which one of them, at any rate, would gladly have escaped; but as neither of them had been in the least prepared for it, a few instants of silence and hesitation ensued. Morton spoke first. tt ' ' i i ! 1 J '^' n ,H1 M in. M i t *n' t. 4 tJ 148 MISADVENTURE. * ! " What the devil are you doing here ? " he asked in a thick voice. *' Nothing unlawful, I assure you," answered Archie, laughing. " I've managed to miss my train, that's all ; so I've got to wander about until past midnight." Morton paid no heed to this explanation, possibly did not even hear it. He was trembling with rage and excite- ment, and the torrent of incoherent abuse which he began to pour forth was barely intelligible ; but it was evident that he heard of his sister's engagement and was en more angry about it than might have been anticipat .<. Archie thought it best to let him rave on. He was determined to keep his temper, and indeed did not feel at all tempted to lose it. But when Morton proceeded from objurgations to threats, and actually squared up to him in an absurd caricature of a fighting attitude, he said : — " For heaven's sake don't make such an ass of your- self ! Go home and go to bed, like a reasonable being. There wouldn't be the slightest use in my discussing mat- ters with you now, but when you know all about it to- morrow, you will see that you haven't much cause for complaint. At least, I expect so," added Archie, as a saving clause ; for it occurred to him that his uncle might not, perhaps, intend to make the provisions of his will known to his heir-apparent. " I don't know what you expect, but I know what you'll get — and that's a jolly good thrashing? " called out Morton. Considering the relative strength of the two men, this menace was sufficiently ridiculous; but Morton, neverthe- less, attempted to carry it into eflfect, so that Archie was compelled in self-defence to reduce him to comparative helplessness by getting behind him and throwing his arms up. In this position the captive kicked out vigorously and the captor's shins suffered a little; but the scuffle could have but one termination. " I won't hit you again if you'll let me go," gasped out Morton at length. " Thank you very much," answered Archie, laughing and releasing him. " Now, if you'll take my advice, you'll get home as quickly as you can, and tell them to bring you some seltzer with a dash of brandy in it the first thing in the morning." MISADVENTURE. 140 Morton turned suddenly away, making no reply. Tin struggle had partially F,obered him, but it had not made him any steadier on his legs, and Archie, who was at first amused by his divagations, began presently to think that these might prove no laughing matter if persisted in such dangerous proximity to a precipice. He had not the time, and he certainly had not the inclination, to see his cousin home, but he felt bound in common humanity to conduct him a short distance inland. Accordingly, he strode after him and took him by the arm, saying : — " I'll walk a bit of the wa3'^ with you." " I don't want your company," returned Morton roughly, *• If it comes to that, I am not very anxious for yours ; but you had better have somebody to look after you for the next two or three hundred yards. You're awfully drunk, you know, and if you were to slip over the edge anywhere hereabouts you would never move again." He was quite prepared for another torrent of strong language, but, to his surprise, Morton, whose manner had undergone a sudden and complete change, leant heavily upon his arm and thanked him in a very humble tone ot voice for his assistance. " Devilish kind of you, I'm sure, after the way I treated you just now. You're a good fellow, Archie- -upon my word you are ! Let's be friends ! " •' Oh, all right, anything you like," i-eplied Archie somewhat impatiently. " Come on ! " He only wanted to get rid of the wretched creature, and did not take this abrupt tendering of the olive-branch seriously. ♦* Yes ; but you must let me beg your pardon for what I said to you," persisted Morton, as he staggered along. " Quite unjustifiable, I admit. But you'll overlook it, won't you ? You'll try to forget it ? " •' Certainly ; but don't shove me over the clifF in the meantime, please," answered Archie ; for his companion kept on lurching against him, and there was not much room to spare. Now that he was provided with a prop to lean upon, Morton seemed to have lost all control over his move- ments, nor was it easy to keep him away from the peril- ous verge towards which he perversely gravitated at every step. I h » ! J- ' 4' 'i $ e ^ A. m^"^* M 150 MISADVENTURE. *( 1 i! 'ii 1 ** I'll tell you what it is," exclaimed Archie, at length; " if you go on like this you'll have me down presently ; and if I go down you'll go too. Can you understand that much ? " Had there not happened to be on that spot a jutting ledge upon the face of the cliff, those would beyond all doubt have been Archie Bligh's last words on earth ; for hardly were they out of his mouth when Morton, wrench- ing himself away with a sudden jerk, gave him a push which threw him completely off his balance. For one horrible, sickening instant he gave himself up for lost; the next he was hanging over the abyss, one knee supported by the narrow shelf of chalk which had arrested his fall, while his fingers clutched convulsively at the scanty her- bage, by means of which he strove in vain to haul himself up. Morton, whose pale face, illumined by the moonlight, had an expression of triumphant malignity, stamped upon his hands as he struggled. If the would-be murderer had had nails in his boots he might possibly have achieved his purpose ; but he was a small, light man and he was wear- ing thin evening shoes. All he could do — and this he did during several interminable seconds — was to prevent his victim from obtainmg any hold sufficient to support the weight of over twelve stone. Archie felt that he was in deadly peril ; he did not know how far the projection upon which his knee was resting could be trusted, and he teared that his nerve was beginning to fail. At last, with a de- spairing effort, he seized his assailant's leg and, throwing his body forward, just — and only just— managed to fall, gasping and panting, upon his face on the firm land. The instinct of self-preservation impelled him at once to crawl away from the brink, over which his feet were still hanging, and while he was doing so a loud crashing sound rose to his ears from the beach below. That was really all that he knew about it. Even when he sat up, exhausted and bewildered, and could see no sign of Mor- ton, he did not at once realize that in saving his own life he had taken that rf his cousin. Afterwards he remem- bered in a confused sort of way that Morton had been dragged to the ground, and he thought, but was not sure, that he remembered hearing the unfortunate man cry out; MISADVENTUBE. 151 but for the moment he was simply dazed and unable to collect his senses. It was only by degrees that the awful truth dawned upon him, bringing out a cold sweat upon his forehead and making him shiver from head to foot. Morton was killed — of that there could not be the slightest doubt, for the cliff over which he had fallen was at least four hundred feet in height — and Archie may be forgiven if in the presence of such a catastrophe his first thought was for himself, and not for the man who had attempted to murder him. For Morton, indeed, nothing could be done; but the survivor surely had need to keep his wits about him, and to take what action might seem best to secure himself against the risk of a horrible accusation. Poor Archie had not all his wits about him, but he had sense enough to be aware that if he rushed straight off to the Priory, gave the alarm, and related the whole truth, he would inevitably live out the rest of his life under a certain cloud of suspicion which nothing could remove. Cicely would believe his story ; so would his uncle ; so, perhaps, but not certainly, would most of of his friends and neighbours; But some persons there would undoubtedly be who would shake their heads and purse up their lips. That his cousin and he had been upon bad terms was notorious ; it would soon be seen how greatly his worldly prospects were im- proved by Morton's removal ; and the circumstance of his having missed his train and walked back to a place where Morton was likely to be encountered would scarcely escape comment. The more Archie thought of it — and he had not much time for thought — the more he shrunk from the only straightforward course, and the more he felt tempted to seek safety in flight. For flight would mean safety, absolute and complete. No suggestion of foul play would be put forward, because Mark Chetwode must have known that Morton had left his house in a state of intoxication, and that a tipsy man should miss his footing and roll over a cliff was in no way surprising. As for himself, it would hardly be supposed that he had wandered so far away from the station ; nor m truth would there be any ground for such a supposition. All he had to do was to hurry back, to report himself at Aldershot in due course, to be as much she eked as other I , 'Vl W" '"!■ m I i 152 MISADVENTURE. J , : \i people when the news of the accident reached him, and to treat the events of the last half-hour as though they had never occurred. Was he not morally justified in adopting that plan ? Was he not guiltless of his cousin's death ? *♦ He tried his best to kill me," muttered Archie, •♦ and I should have had a right to try and kill him in self- defence. But I didn't try ; and it was all his own doing, not mine." Well, he had to make up his mind, for there were not many minutes to spare, and if he missed the train a second time, his fate must necessarily be decided for him. It seems hard to condemn a man placed, through no fault of his own, in so cruel a dilemma, for choosing to make himself safe. Yet he was wrong, and he lived to acknow- ledge it. Setting the moral aspect of the question aside, it would have been better for him to confess the truth and take all the consequences that might result than to carry about with him to his grave a secret which he could never dare to impart to any other human being. But at the time he naturally did not realise what the burden of that secret must be. He was horror-stricken, but not remorse- ful (having no cause lor remorse), and as he hastened along the track, which he had lately traversed under such different conditions of feeling, his longing for escape found expression in the words which he kept repeating over and over : — " Nobody will know ! Nobody will know l" CHAPTER XIX. Il DEATH BY MISADVENTURE. Early in the morning Mrs. Allspice, the housekeeper at the Priory, had got through her daily task of rousing up heavy-headed housemaids, and was seated in her sanctum adding up accounts, when a tap on the window-pane made her jump. " Drat the man ! " she exclaimed irritably, when she recognised the face of old Coppard, ** why can't he go to the back door, instead of stealing upon a body that way, T] MISADVENTURE. isn like a thief in the night ? " And, throwing open the win- dow, she proceeded to administer the rating which the case appeared to call for. *• You'll excuse me, mum," said Coppard, in his deep, hoarse voice, " but I'm the bearer of bad noos, which had best be for your private hear. As I come along I thinks to myself, * Mrs. Hallspice, she's a sensible 'oman with a powerful gift of self-control ; I'll tell what must be told to Mrs. Hallspice, and keep out of the way o' them silly gals, as'ud go screeching all over the place and breakin' things violent 'stead of easy, like they should be broke.' " Notwithstanding the self-control with which she was credited, Mrs. Allspice pressed her hand to her heart and gasped. " Mercy upon me 1 " she ejaculated. " Don't tell me it's Mr. Archie ! " Coppard shook his head but did not relax the solem- nity of his expression. *' To the best o' my knowledge and belief, mum, there ain't nothin' amiss with the young gentleman as you speak of," he replied. " The Lord be praised for that ! Step in through the window, then, if the rheumatics'll let you. You're right about those girls; they're just as inquisitive as they're flighty, and a stronger thing than that I couldn't say." Coppard having hoisted himself into the room with rather more groaning and wheezing than was absolutely necessary (for he felt that he had a claim on Mrs. Allspice's famous cherry brandy, and he wanted to show her how much he needed it), proceeded to unfold his tale. As this was a very long business indeed and was adorned by numerous picturesque digressions, it may perhaps be sum- marised with advantage. The up-shot of it was that, hav- ing pulled round to the Pebble Cove soon after daybreak to pick up his crab-pots, he had seen the body of a man lying on the beach, and that, after landing and making a closer inspection, he had discovered, to his horror, that this unfortunate was no other than Mr. Morton Bligh, stone dead, " and so knocked about and smashed as I won't distress your feelings by describing of it, mum." He had at once hastened to Abbotsport and had assembled a party, with whose help he had removed the corpse to the i * ■ i i 154 MISADVENTURE. ! r ;: Seven Stars — *• where it now lays, mum. For I didn't venture not for to let 'em carry it up to the Priory, mum, till I got instructions. I couldn't feel as it ought to be done, mum — which I daresay you'll understand me." Mrs. Allspice commended Coppard and gave him the rherry brandy which his soul loved. She was, of course, very much shocked and said so a great many times ; but .,he was more impressed by the awful suddenness with which this sinner had been " called to his account " than afflicted by his demise. As to the manner in which the accident had come about she felt little doubt. Mr. Morton had been expected home on the previous evening, but his non-appearance had caused no alarm, because it was known that he was dining at Upton Chetwode, and as he had his portmanteau with him, it was supposed that he intended sleeping there. Evidently, if he had had such an intention, he must have abandoned it and started to walk home — possibly under circumstances which rendered walking in the neighborhood of a cliff imprudent. Mrs. Allspice had reason to be aware that the circumstances alluded to not unfrequently presented themselves in Mr. Morton's case after dinner. But now the question was, who was to break the news to the Squire ? And to such a question there could, in that house, be only one answer. It was, as Coppard said, " crod'ard " upon Miss Cicely, but then she had courage enough for anything ; " and besides — " added Mrs. Allspice, caressing her double chin meditatively with her finger and thumb, and leaving her . entence unfinished. The worthy housekeeper probably meant that it would be impossible for Miss Cicely to grieve very deeply over I he death of such a brother, but did not like to say so. Presently she sighed and went up to Cicely's bedroom, after teUing old Coppard to stay where he was, and left the cherry brandy on the table — a thing which she never would have done if her mental balance had not been dis- turbed. When she returned at the end of a quarter of an hour she saw at once how her confidence had been abused, and placed a mental punishment mark against the delinquent's name ; but the present occasion not being an appropriate one for letting him know what she thought of J^im, she contented herself with giving him a stern look, -T]l MlSAbVfiNTtJtlE. 155 which he did not seem to comprehend, and teUing him to go round to the front-door, where he would find Miss Cicely, who wished to see him. Cicely was waiting on the lawn when Coppard emerged from the stable-yard, and she at once moved further away from the house, beckoning to him to follow her. " I don't want the servants to know that you are here," she said, as he approached ; *' they would be sure to guess that something was wrong, and I haven't had time to consider yet how papa is to be told. I am afraid it might do him a great deal of harm if he heard it without any preparation, or even if he suspected that a misfortune had happened and did not know what it was. In what- ever way he may learn it, it is certain to make him ill." Her cheeks were very white, but her voice was steady and her manner composed. Possibly she might have displayed more emotion if she had only had her own feelings to think of ; but as it was there was room for nothing in her mind but dread of the effect of a sudden shock upon her father in his present frail condition. She made Coppard repeat all she had already heard from the housekeeper, but while she seemed to be listening to the details of his proHx narrative she was really debating half a dozen ways of softening a blow which could not be softened, and fmdmg objections to them all. Coppard was still dilating upon the forethought and presence of mind which he had exhibited throughout this melancholy affair when the tall figure of Mr. Lowndes was seen hurrying up the avenue. Cicely advanced to meet him, glad to have found somebody with whom she could take counsel ; for although it was not her habit to to ask advice or accept it, she sometimes allowed her- self to be guided by the rector, whose sound common sens^ she appreciated. •' You have heard ? " she said interrogatively. Mr. Lowndes made a sign of assent. •' I came up at once to see whether I could be of any use. Has your father been told ? " " Not yet ; and I don't know ho-w it is to be done. Even if he were quite well he would feel it a great deal more than — than " " Well, yes ; I am afraid he would," agreed the rector, who understood what she did not say. I 156 MISADVENTURE. / il^ " And he is not as strong as he was a month ago," continued Gicely, the tears suddenly coming into her eyes. ** I have not been able to make up my mind to go to him ; but I must not put it off any longer. Will you come with me ? " •• Wouldn't it be almost better for me to go without you ? " suggested Mr. Lowndes. " I'll do just what you wish, but it seems to me that if I undertook the mission I might, in some ways, save both you and him from pain." Cicely assented gratefully. '* How kind you are ! " she exclaimed. She knew very well that there was nothing in the world more distasteful to this good-humored, eupeptic man than the performance of duties which are commonly described as painful ; but she allowed him on this occasion to assume a burden which by rights should have been laid upon her, because she felt sure that her father would be able to solace himself by speaking his mind freely to his old friend. All the circumstances of Morton's relations with his family had been so unusual that it would be hardly possible for them, in talking about him together, to give expression to their real feelings. So the rector went into the house, and having ascertained that Mr. Bligh was up and dressed, gave his card, upon which he had scribbled, " I must see you for a few min- utes," to the butler to take upstairs. Immediately after- wards he was shown into the presence of the invalid, whom he found lying on a sofa and finishing his breakfast. " You're very early, and you look very solemn, Lowndes," remarked Mr Bligh. ♦' Has the church been burnt down ? I hope so ; because then it may be rebuilt. Heaven forbid that it should ever be restored ! " It often falls to the lot of a country parson to announce evil tidings, and, unless he is abnormally stupid, experience soon teaches him which method of doing so to select, in a particular case, out of the very few methods that exist. Mr. Lowndes simply said : — ** I have come to tell you that Morton fell over the cliff on his way back from Upton Chetwode last night and was killed on the spot." He was perhaps right in judging that an abrupt shock would do his friend less harm than a process of slow torture, but he was hardly prepared for the agitation MISADVENTURE. 157 against which Mr. Bligh struggled vainly for several min utes ; because, to tell the truth, he had not believed that any father could feel a spark of affection for so worthless and undutiful a son. •' I am afraid I have been very clumsy," he said at length, rising and laying his hand on the sick man's shoulder. " I did it for the best." Mr. Bligh nodded and presently found his voice. In answer to the few questions that he put he was told all that was known about an accident the immediate cause of which it was easy to surmise ; but it was a long time before he could talk as Cicely had foreseen that it would be a relief to him to talk. ♦' I feel like a murderer, Lowndes," he said at length. •' I never wished for poor Morton's death, but I did look forward to it as an event not unlikely to happen and not likely to be deplored. Now it has happened sooner than I expected, and I see, as one always does when it is too late to make amends, that I was not fair to him." ** My dear Bligh, that is nonsense. You were not only fair to him, but generous. Let us say, if you will, that death wipes out all offences ; but so long as a man lives his offences must be remembered and taken into account. As a matter of fact, you forgave Morton's while he was still alive and had every prospect of living for many years." ** Oh, I made him my heir ; I should have been con- spicuously unfair if I hadn't. But that is not quite what I mean. I never spoke kindly to him or showed or felt the slightest sympathy for him. I just tolerated him. He was treated like a leper, whom we only admitted amongst us because we were so sure that his leprosy was not catching. It was the wrong way to go to work. One should either forgive without reserve or not at all." " Most people wouldn't have forgiven him at all," the Rector declared; *• and though I wish to be as charitable as I can, I am bound to say that I don't believe kindness would have had any good effect upon him." " Ah, well 1 it's useless to discuss the question now. I think Archie ought to come back ; no doubt his colonel will give him leave. Perhaps Cicely will write him a line." " Yes; or for that matter it would be easy enough to telegraph." * ti m MlSAbVENTURfi. Uii M " No ; I don't want him telegraphed for. If he is here the day after to-morrow that will be quite time enough in my opinion ; but Cicely can do as she likes about it. There will have to be an inquest, I suppose ? " "That is unavoidable, I am afraid," answered the Rector ; " but it will be a mere matter of form and your presence will not be required." He remained for some time longer with Mr. Bligh and only took his leave when Cicely, whose anxiety could endure no further delay, came in. Cicely's first impression on seeing her father's face was that a delicate operation had been skilfully performed, and she threw a quick glance of gratitude at her emissary, who nevertheless went away sorrowful. " I don't like it," thought the good man to himself, as he descended the staircase. " I don't like it a bit. I only hope that this may not be his death-blow ; but it wouldn't surprise me if he never rallied. He wasn't in the least like himself from beginning to end — too much moved at first and too apathetic afterwards. One doesn't require a 'ioctor to tell one what that means ; the disease is reach- inj^ the brain." Cicely, as was only to be expected, formed a less gloomy prognosis. She could not shut her eyes to the nopeless nature of her father's illness, but she had managed to shut them to the fact that he was growing slowly and steadily worse, and now she managed to ignore symptoms which in the case of any other sick person would not have escaped her. In the afternoon Mark Chetwode called to make inquiries, and she saw him for a few minutes, wish- mg to hear anything that could be learnt from the last man who was known to have seen Morton alive. Naturally he did not tell her much. His face, which he eould always and without effort render expressionle concealed any emotion that he may have felt. Only in the course of the brief interview did a slight ch ^e come over it, and that was when, in reply to his reqi, st that he might be allowed to be of some use to her, since her father was incapacitated, she said : — " Oh, thank you, but I hope Archie will be here to- morrow or next day. I am going to write to him." He did not congratulate her upon her engagement, MISADVENTURE. 159 thinking that it would be a breach of good manners to allude to an event which had not yet been formally made public, and as he had no excuse for lingering where his presence was something of an intrusion, he soon went away in a very despondent mood. " This closes the chapter, then," thought he. " If my case was hopeless yesterday, it is doubly hopeless to-day. So far as I am concerned, the entire Bligh family died when that miserable creature broke his neck. I only wish I could forget them as easily as I shall be able to forget him ! " As a matter of fact, however, he was not able to forget Morton very readily ; for he was reminded of his deceased guest in a disagreeable manner when he was called upon to give evidence at the coroner's inquest. That court of inquiry, which was held at the Seven Stars, treated him with scant consideration, and the reluctance which he evinced in answering certain questions was not appreciated as it might have been. Asked in what condition the deceased had left his house, he began by replying that the deceased had left his house sound in wind and limb. This was considered flippant and evasive, and he was very soon made to confess that during the evening Mr. Morton Bligh had drunk a good deal of wine and spirits. " Was he sober when he started to walk home ? " •• Well, that depends upon what you call sober. He could walk." " Could he walk straight without assistance ? " " I am not prepared to affirm that he could walk abso- lutely straight ; he appeared to me to keep a relatively straight course." ♦' And knowing, as you must have known, the danger that lay before him, it did not occur to you to walk with him?" •' It did not. I foresaw no special danger." These answers created a very bad impression, and at the last of them the jurymen, with one consent, wagged their heads solemnly. They were all Abbotsport men, w ..ich is as much as to say that they were acquainted with the physical disabilities under which the deceased had laboured at the time of his demise, and could heartily sympathise with them. It might, they thought (though iwu I'll !• t 4 li^ S * I J|l I I wipi 160 MISADVENTURE. ! : h h; r- ? k I: this, after all, was a moot point), be wrong to get drunk, but as for asking a man to drink v/ith you and neglecting to see him home after your drink had overpowered him, there could be no two opinions about such conduct as that. Indeed, it was afterwards said that several of them had been strongly in favour of finding the dehnquent guilty of manslaughter, and had only been brought to do violence to their sense of what was right by representations that the man was no better than a foreigner. It was, at all events a considerable time before they could agree upon a verdict of '* Death by Misadventure," to which the follow- ing expression of opinion was added : — " The jury desire to record their great astonishment and regret that no reasonable and humane precautions were taken by the gentleman with whom the deceased had been diring to avert a calamity which might have been predicted." The admirable and well-chosen terms in which, this rider was couched were generally considered to reflect great credit upon Mr. Simpkins, the foreman, but old Cop- pard, who, as may be remembered, had a private grudge against Simpkins, said that, by his way of thinking, the jury would have done better to mind their own business and keep their astonishment and regret to themselves. •' These things comes to pass by the will of the Al- mighty," was his pious comment. " Drunk or sober, when a man's hour comes he's got to die. Regretted or not re- gretted, the young Squire's dead, and ' don't see as it'll do him no manner o' good to throw nasty dictionary words at Ihelivin'." Much the same, though otherwise worded, were the sentiments of Mr. I.owndes, who caught Mark up in the street and made him a sort .>f an apology. •' Stupid fellows ! They had no business to say such things even if they thought them. Bligh will be very much vexed when he hears. I hope 3'ou won't let it dis- tress you." " Distress me ! Why should it distress me ? " returned Mark. " Is it possible that in England you really care what these boors may say or think about you ? At an election time I understand that they may become import- ant, since you have chosen to make them your masters, MISADVENTURE. ir.i but even at an election time you must surely be laughin- at them, unless you feel the absurdity of the position toe much to laugh. As for me, an English peasant is no more to me than a Russian moujik ; I should be ashamed of myself if such beings had the power to cause me emotion of any kind." , He spoke with a warmth which left the worthy Rector open-mouthed, and which seemed to betray a good deal of the emotion which he disclaimed. But in truth the ver- dict of the coroner's jury had not ruffled him. Wha* he felt, and what had crus?d him to turn so sharply upon innocent Mr. Lowndes, wa*3 blind rage against fate and deep disgust for the scene of his discomfiture. He had now quite made up his mind that he would leave the neighborhood and never return. He was not so poor but that life — a kind of life — would still be possible for him elsewhere. '* Rather a single room in St. Petersburg than a castle in this accursed province ! " he muttered as he strode up the hill towards lonely Upton Chetwode. CHAPTER XXi ARCHIE RETURNS. nil i it : ii| ', 1 "" ''.,■'■ l L^l 1 m ** Why, Bligh, old man, what have you been doing to yourself? You look as if you had just had a bout of jungle fever ! " was the remark with which one of his brother officers greeted Archie when he reached Alder- shot. And the others followed suit. They said it was all very well for him to pretend that he had been leading a quiet life down in the country, but that wouldn't do. " Too much London is your complaint, my boy," declared these know- ing fellows ; and he only contradicted them in a half- hearted sort of way, being conscious of his haggard appear- ance and feeling that it must be accounted for somehow or other. He admitted that he was wretchedly seedy, which was in fact the truth, and he added that he didn't know why, which was a somewhat less veracious state- ment, Abput his engagement he said not a word ; for in 'I I SI* / ' 162 MISADVENTURE. III !< ; ' this dreadful misfortune which had overtaken him he could feel certain of nothing. It seemed as if trouble in some shape musl come of it — as if the secret which had already, in his mind, raised a barrier between him and the girl whom he loved must keep them apart forever ; though of course there was no reason why it should, so long as he kept his own counsel. There was, too, the possibility — a very remote one, no doubt, but still a possibility — that the truth might be discovered ; and all day long he kept thinking of this, remembering how clear the night had been and how exposed the spot on which the fatal en- counter had taken place. A coast-guardsman in the dis- tance might well have seen it all. Poor Archie had many days of unhappiness before him, but he afterwards thought of that first day as the most unhappy and the most interminable of his whole life. He had a certain amount of duty to do, which filled up a por- tion of it, but during the remainder he was in a state of almost intolerable suspense and misery, trying most un- successfully to be like himself, knowing how necessary it was that he should show no signs of mental distress, and expecting every moment to receive a telegram which never came. There was very little rest for him that night. In- stead of sleeping, he tossed about upon his bed and tor- mented himself with conjectures. That he would be com- municated with as soon as the catastrophe became known he felt certain ; he could only suppose that Morton's body had not been found. But when the newspapers arrived the next morning, that surmise was proved to be incorrect. It was the Col- onel v/ho handed him a copy of the Times, saying, " I am afraid this must refer to one of your people, Bligh." And there, sure enough, was a paragraph headed ''Fatal Fall from a Cliff,'' in which it was narrated how Morton Bligh, the only son of Mr. Bligh of the Priory, Abbotsport, had met with his death in a shockingly sudden manner, while walking home at night from the house of a neighbour. " I suppose you would like to go to your uncle? There will be no difficulty about that," said the Colonel, looking kmdly at the yoimg fellow, whose evident agitation seem- ed only natural under the circumstances ; and Archie .Tiurmured a few words of thanks. MISADVENTURE. 163 He thought he had better telegraph to the Priory first ; but before he had time to do so, the second post brought him a letter from Cicely which rendered that unnecessary. The letter, written apparently in haste, and in a some- what tremulous hand, gave a very brief account of the fatality which had occurred, and begged Archie to ask f r leave and return as soon as possible. •' I would have telegraphed for you," Cicely wrote, •' but papa did not wish it ; he only thought you ought to be here for the funeral. He has been very much upset, as you may imagine, and of course his health has sufifered; but I do hope and trust that he will be better in a day or two." Of her own feelings she scarcely spoke : evidently her mind was filled with anxiety for her father and could at present hold no other emotion. It was with a heavy heart that Archie seated himself in the train that afternoon. He was not a man to whom dissimulation came easily, and in his short, sunny life he had had so very little experience of trouble that lie could not put it away from him, as less fortunate people leorn perforce to do. The more he thought of it Jjie more im- possible it seemed to him that he could meet Cicely's eyes without being detected. How would he ever be able to affect the horror and consternation that would be expect- ed of him ? How could he get through the horrible duty of following to the grave the body of the man whom he had killed ? It was useless to say to himself that he had not really killed Morton, that he had been guilty of no crime. That wa^^ true ; and if, immediately after the event, he had had the courage to say so openly, he might possibly have been believed ; but by evasion he had made himself guilty of the crime —guilty, at any rate, in the eyes of all who might subsequently hear of it, perhaps even of his own. He had chosen to act as a murderer would have acted, and what he had done could never be undone now. So early as this he had reached the point which nothing could have saved him from reaching sooner or later — the point of regretting that he had run away, instead of facing danger. The poor fellow was naturally brave and honest, which made his plight the more pitiable. " Perhaps I shall get accustomed to it," he groaned at last. That was the only consolation which he could offer 1 i 'i ) 164 MISADVENtUBG. « ;: H to himself, and he had not the advantage of being able to believe in it. At Abbotsport Road another passenger alighted, to whom the footman from the Priory touched his hat. This little grizzle-headed man bustled out of the station in front of Archie and glanced round at him inquiringly, with his foot on the step of the carriage, which was waiting. " Oh, Mr. Bligh, I think ?" said he. " Let me intro- duce myself. My name is Parsons ; I have been sent for to see your uncle." " I hope that doesn't mean that he is worse," said Archie, to whom the famous physician was well known by repute. " Well, 1 hope not," answered Sir Peter, when they had taken their places in the carriage ; " but to a man in his state mental disturbance cannot be otherwise than dangerous, and his daughter is frightened about him. Naturally enough, poor girl ! This is a sad business ? " *' Yes," agreed Archie, trying to say something more, but finding that the words stuck in his throat. " Yes, a great shock to your uncle, no doubt ; although, as of course you know, his son was not all that he could have wished." •' I don't think Morton could be called a good son," Archie managed to say. Sir Peter shook his head. " A bad fellow, I'm afraid, if the truth is to be spoken. He made himself notorious in many ways, and none of them pleasant ways. Still, when a man loses his only son it comes upon him as a blow, whatever the son may have been worth ; and there is always something awful about a sudden death, though I daresay most of us would prefer to die suddenly, if we could choose." After this there was a pause, during which the phy- sician may have been reflecting that the prospects of the young man beside him had probably undergone a great change for the better in consequence of his cousin's death ; for his next remark was : — •* Your uncle's estates are entailed, I presume ? " " No ; he can do what he likes with them," answered Archie, and added, " but I hope he may enjoy them him- self for a long time to come." MISADVENTURE. 165 " Hope does no harm," said Sir Peter ; '* I am not going to extinguish Miss Bligh's hopes unless she compels me to do it. But her father is well aware that his disease is incurable, and if you do not know it, I think it is better that I should tell you so," " But you don't consider him in immediate danger, do you ? " asked Archie. " I did not when I saw him last ; this affair may have hastened^what is ordinarily a slow process, though. And so his daughter will get the property, I suppose. Poor child ! it isn't an enviable fate to be a great heiress. And there will be nobody to take care of her except the old aunt, who didn't strike me as a very efficient person." Archie was very nearly saying that there would be somebody else, but held his peace. He could not shake off the impression that something undefinable had separ- ated him from Cicely, and it was a relief to him to think that their first meeting must take place in the presence of this stranger. The meeting, in fact, passed off without any painful incident. Cicely greeted him affectionately and seemed to be glad that he had come, but it was plain that she was far less preoccupied with her lover than with Sir Peter Parsons, whom she followed upstairs. Archie went into the library, where he found Miss Skipwith squeezing a damp handkerchief in her trembling fingers. The poor woman, whom Sir Peter was not alone in deeming ineffi- cient, had been completely set on one side for two days, and, having nothing to do, had fretted herself into a state of nervous excitement which made even Archie's company welcome to her." " Yes," she said in answer to his first question, '* I am afraid Wilfrid is worse. From what his servant told me, he must have had something like a seizure in the night, and though he seemed to have rallied this morning. Cicely was dreadfully alarmed and insisted upon telegraphing for Sir Peter. How terrible it all is ! I suppose I am very wicked, but I can't help feeling that Morton has always done everything that could be done to break his father's heart — even in his death." " His death, at least, was not intentional," observed Archie, with a queer, incongruous inclination to burst out laughing. n « I i 1^ \ri m H I ^ \ \ i ,'4 i f. <)6 MlSADVENTURl^. '* No, but the cirrum stances which caused it were, and they were so disgiMcefni, and everybody knows them ! There is no doubt that he was intoxicated when he left Upton Chetwode, and I have just heard that the coroner's jury liave brouiijht in a vercHct reflecting upon Mr. Chet- wode for ha\ 'ng allowed him to walk away in that state. It is Very cruel of them to say such things, I think." Archie made no reply. Everybody appeared to have iallen out in accordance with liis anticipations. He was sorry that anything' disagreeable should have been said about Mark, but not sure that that gentleman had deserved it. All, if only Morton had been prevented from starting on that fatal walk ! Pie sat listening half unconsciously to the lamentations of Miss Skipwith, until the door opened and Cicely came in, looking less anxious than she had ('one on his an ixal. " Sir Peter has relieved my mind," she said ; " I daresay [ was too ready to take fright. He says he would like to ice you for a minute before he goes, ' she added, turning to Archie ; " yuu will find him in the hall. He is in a hurry to get back to London and thinks he will just catch the up-train if he starts at once." Archie went out, and meeting Sir Peter at the foot of the staircase,, said : — " I am glad to hear that you could give a favorable report." But Sir Peter shook his head, " Well, relatively favorable," he answered. " I think Mr. Bligii h.as pulled through what might have proved to be the last stjge of his illness, and it is very possible that he may now linger on for many months. On the other hand he may take a turn for the worse at any moment. I found him a good deal depressed, but he told me that his affairs were in order and that he was easy in his mind about his daughter's future— which is a comfort to him." Here the doctor glanced at Archie and smiled. •' You must allow me to congratulate you," he added. '* I rejoice for the N'oung lady's sake as well as for yours." Then he consulted his watch, shook hands hurriedly and ran out to the carriage. Archie returned to the library with as cheerful a coun- tenance as he could assume, but found only Miss Skipwith there. MISADVENTURE. 167 " Cicely begs you to excuse her tilljto- morrow," the old lady said. " Her father likes to have her near him ; and besides, she has born up so bravely all this time that she is beginning to feel the reaction. Perhaps you will not mind dining alone to-night. I have no appetite, and I think I would rather go to my own room." Miss Skip- with hesitated for a moment, then resumed in a lower voice : — " I am afraid there are a good many painful duties which must devolve upon you. The — the remains are to be transferred here to-night, I understand, and no doubt arrangements will have to be made and directions given. Mr. Lowndes kindly offered to help us, but perhaps, now that you have come, we ought not to trouble him." " I am sure I shall only be too glad to spare Cicely and Uncle Wilfrid in any wa}^ that I can," answered the young man ; and in truth he was glad to be provided with occupation, ghastly though that occupation necessarily appeared to him. There was a horrible irony in the fate wliich compelled him to receive Morton's body and give orders for its burial ; yet he dreaded that less than the inevitable conversation with Cicely which he foresaw, and the postponement of which was a respite to him. Late that night, however, when he had done all that had to be done, and was sitting in the smoking-room with his head on his hands. Cicely stole in for a minute to thank him. " You have been very kind and good," said she ; " and now, Archie, there is one thing I want to suggest ; let us never mention Morton again if we can help it. I didn't love him, nor did you ; we can't pretend that we did. But we can be silent about him, and — and remember that it isn't for us to judge him any more now." " Yes, that will be best," cried the young fellow eagerly, for it seemed to him that he was being offered the nearest approach that could be obtained to that obliteration of the past for which he longed so despairingly — " that will be much the best 1 We'll — we'll try to forget it all, won't we ? " fi 1G6 MISADVENTURE. CHAPTER XXI. .1 -A\ I ^ COPPARD S CONJECTURES. It cannot be a very common experience to act as chief mourner to a man who has died by your hand, and cer- tainly it cannot be a very agreeable one. Archie, however, representing his uncle, who was unable to attenl the funeral, got through it somehow or other, and his p. le face and downcast looks were noticed only with approval. Everybody now knew (because Mrs. Lowndes had taken care to inform everybody) that he was engaged to be married to his cousin, and that consequently he would at no distant date ^ e de facto if not de jure owner of the Bligh estates and the large Bligh fortune ; so that if he could contrive to be really sorry for the death of the disreputable person whose removal opened up such a fine future for him, he must be an uncommonly kind-hearted fellow. Notwithstanding Mr. Bligh's wish that the funeral should be as quiet and simple a ceremony as possible, it was rendered imposing by a great assemblage of neigh- bours, whose presence must have been due to some other motive than respect for the deceased. Out of the corner Df his eye Archie saw them all, and was distressed by an altogether mistaken idea that they were looking askance at him. After the last words of the solemn service had been read, he had to shake hands with a good many of them, to listen to their conventional expressions of sym- pathy with his uncle, and to hear each of them in turn exclaim, " Shocking thing ! " Sir George Dare, whose countenance was habitually adorned by a broad smile, assumed an air of gravity which was irresistibly comical while uttering the prescribed formula, but allowed his features to relax into their normal set when he whispered in Archie's ear : — "Lucky dog! I've heard all about it. You mustn't mind my saying that I should have preferred somebody Dlse whom I could name to be in your shoes. Wish you joy all the same you know ! " I MISADVENTURB. 169 Well, this was comforting and kindly meant, and Mr. Lowndes, who presently issued from the vestry door, was even more warm in his felicitations, declaring that the match was one upon which he had long set his heart, and that he knew it would bring great happiness to others besides the young couple. But in spite of what he had said to Cicely, the night before, about oblivion, Archie could not free himself from the weight of care which oppressed him, and he was thankful to get back to the Priory and hide himself in the smoking-room and be alone. But he had not been alone five minutes when the butler came in to say that Mr. Bligh wished to see him, and of coiirse he could not disobey the summons. Mr. Bligh had been moved downstairs and was in the library again. He looked much as usual, Archie thought — perhaps a little feebler — but when he began to speak there was a noticeable change in his voice, and every now and then he seemed to have a certain difi&culty of articu- lation. He said : — " Well, my dear fellow, this is a sad house to have brought you back to. Among the dead and the dying it is hard to keep up one's spirits. Aldershot would be more tolerable, wouldn't it ? " " I'd rather be here," Archie answered. " For some reasons I suppose you would. Are those reasons powerful enough to keep you here, do you think ?" He looked almost pleadingly at the young man, who replied in some surprise : — *• Of course, I should like to stay as long as they'll let me. " That would hardly be more than a week, would it ? I am going to ask a favour of you, Archie : I want you to send in your papers at once. Of course, you will wish to return to your regiment for a few days and say good-bye to 3'our old friends and so forth, but if you and the authorities could be satisfied with that much I should be glad. You see you are rather badly wanted here, and may at any time be still more wanted. After all, it would be only hastening your retirement by a month or two." Archie signified his entire willingness to do as he was requested. Any renewal of the old, thoughtless, happy- ( I ■ ! v^! 170 MISADVENTURE. {^o-lucky life wliich he had been used to lead in the regiirent would, he felt, be impossible, and assuredly no house which contained Cicely could ever be dull or sad for him. This latter consideration he mentioned to his uncle, who smiled and said : — "That's as may be. At your age nature demands some outlet for latent energy, and philandering, though pleasant, doesn't quite meet the want. However, it might be supplied, perhaps, if you were inclined to relieve me of some of the duties that I can't perform any longer. Man- aging another man's estate is a shade less interesting than managing your own, but it is, and will be, so very nearly your own that I should tliink you might see to things with ahnost all the zest of proprietorship." Mr. Bligh was silent for a moment or two before he added, '• I cannot quite make up my mind yet whether I will execute a fresh will or not. As matters now stand. Cicely will inherit everything, except the sum which I always intended you to have. Possibly it would be wiser to make you my heir; because authority ought to belong to the husband, not to the wife, generally speaking." " It vvould come to exactly the same thing," said Archie. " Oh, dear, no ; it wouldn't come to the same thing at all. But there are advantages and disadvantages in botti courses. I must weigh them a little longer, I think. The future, you see," continued Mr. Bligii, musingly, " is always uncertain and is very seldom what one expects it iO be." Perhaps it was some vague apprehension suggested by these words, or perhaps it was the extreme repugnance which he felt to the idea of becoming enriched by Mor- ton's death, that made Archie answer hastily: " I hope you won't dream of disinheriting Cicely in my favour. I don't think she would like it, and I know I should hate it. As for authorit)', I hope there will never be any question of that betv/een us. \^■hatever she wishes I ;un sure to wish ; and even if 1 didn't, I should try to make her think that I did." Against sucli youlhtul and y\rradian notions of matri- monial existence ir was hardlv '.votth while to contend. I MISADVENTURK. 171 Mr. Bligh, with a half amused, half sad glance ;il iiis ncphtw, only said : " Well, I take note of your objection. Thank yon fv)r giving in to me al»ont your retirement from the army, and also for helping us through tiiese dark days as you liave done. Now I think I must dismiss you: I can't talk or listen long without gettmg confused." From that time forth Archie's life began to move along the lines which seemed destined to guide it through a long vista of happy years to its close. Those lines, to all out- ward appearances, were fallen to him in pleasant places, and were, in truth, such as he would have chosen in pre- ference to any others; for he loved the country, antl the kind of work which his uncle now handed over to liim was just that which suited his tastes. But the heart knoweth its own bitterness. To talk about foii:^etting«v.as ridiculous; he migiit as well have attempted to forget a toothache. He was a changed m-^n, and he knew that he was changed, and he feared that others must know it too. Sometimes Cicely looked at him in a surprised, inquiring way v^ich tortured him. DM she suspect anytiiing ? Would she ever su^pect ? He brooded over sucli thougiits until he almost felt as if discovery would be bellor tluin ;aispicion. In reality Cicely noticed nothing more than that h.e was depressed at times, and that did not strike her :!s sur- prising. Oi course, it must be dull for Inm to be buried down in the country at that season of the year, v/ith two women and an invalid, r.\u\ of course a house of mourn- nig cannot very well be made cheerful. vShe thought him very good and uncomplaining, and when she was not with her father (l)ut of late she had been nervously unwilling lo leave her father for long) she did her best to amuse hiiu. In that way they had some rides and walks together, which raised his spirits for tljc time being, and increased liis adoration for his bt:trothed. Slie never said anything now about not being in love with him ; so that he had moments of joyful liope which were perhaps as little justi- fied as his fears. The latter, however, predominated, and it did not take much to rouse them into lull activity. One aft .'moon, for ex^imple, he was terribly scared by certain remarks of old }\ it fl m ■ HI a f 172 MISADVENTURE. li^ Coppard's, whom he encountered in the main street of Abbotsport, and who stopped to speak to him. Coppard might have been drinkinj^ rather more than was gootl for him, and indeed Archie was pretty sure that he liad ; but that did not account for the man's disquieting and sug- gestive manner. For he pulled up in the middle of the street, with his hands in his pockets and his legs very wide apart, as though he did not intend the other to escape him, and fixing a steady, peculiar stare — surely it was a peculiar stare — upon Archie's face, began at once to talk about the recent catastrophe. " 'Twas a cur'ous thing to happen, look at it what way you will, sir," said he. '*/ can't account for it to my sat- isfaction, nohow. Come to consider the evidence and put this and that together, it do seem strange. Intossicated with liquor I make no doubt he were, poor gentleman ; but then, says I to myself, if a man could keep his legs all that distance, what could ever ha' made him lose 'em in the one spot where he was sartin sure for to kill hisself if he fell ? ' Misadwentur ' says the crowner's jury ; and no fools they, if they'd ha' stopped at that ! Misadwen- tur is a word as covers a power o' meanin's." " What meaning do you want to give to it ?" asked Archie, turning pale. *' Are you suggesting that my cousin committed suicide ?" " I don't suggest nothin' at all, sir," answered Cop- pard ; *' I wouldn't make so free. I on'y merely say I can't account for it — not to my own satisfaction. Don't know whether it strikes you as it does me, sir, but by my way o' thinkin' intossication don't explain it." " The Coroner's jury appear to have thought that a sufficient explanation," observed Archie. *• So they do, sir, and nobody can't blame 'em, with the little evidence they had to go upon. But it's like this, do you see, sir ? A man is found dead at the bottom of a cliff. How did he come there ? Well, you has to take your choice of three ways " — and Coppard solemnly checked them off on the tips of his big, blunt fingers — •' there's accident, there's sooicide, and there's foul play. Now I've been over the ground up top o' the cliff very careful, and I've seen traces o' what look to me uncommon lyi^ » itruggle," T MISADVENTUUK. 173 ** Why didn't you say so before, tlicn ? " asked Archie, who now felt almost sure that Coppard suspected hiin. " Don't you know that it was your duty to state everythit)g that could throw light upon the affair ? " " Never heerd tell on it, sir," answered Coppard. "My dooty, as I was given to understand, was to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothin' but the truth. Now, I couldn't ha' swore as a struggle had took place. Not by no means. Let alone as I'd sooner perjure myself than I'd distress Miss Cicely. With you 'tis different, sir. The young squire, he worn't your brother, nor yet you and he worn't particular good friends, I b'lieve. Whether he come by his death this way or that don't make no great odds to you." Archie's throat felt dry and parched. He could not speak, but stood, with knitted brows, gazing at the old fisherman, who presently resumed : — '* Beggin' of your pardon, sir, is it true what I've heerd tell — that you and Miss Cicely is to be man and wife ? " " Yes," answered Archie shortly, " it is true." " Then I hain't got no more to say, sir. I wouldn't have Miss Cicely worrited, not if 'was ever so. If it had been only you as was consarned I don't know but what I might ha' spoke my mind more free ; but worritin' you will mean worritin' she now, I reckon." " You'll be good enough to speak your mind here and now," returned Archie, with a sudden rush of anger. "You are making insinuations which I don't understand and won't submit to. Do you accuse ms of having caused my cousin's death ? " " Lord save us, sir ! " exclaimed Coppard, with uplifted hands, " what an awful thing to say ! No, sir ; what I was ihinkin' of — since you border me to speak out — was this. It came to my hearin' as you missed your train that there night, and was walkin' about the country for a matter of two hours, waitin' for the next one. Now, thinks I, we know from Mr. Chetwode as the haccident occurred most probable betwixt eleven and twelve o'clock, and if so there ivas foul play, and that young gentleman was anywhere m the neighbourhood, why, he might ha' seen somebody, or heard sornethin', thinks I." H '!:* m ; ■ t ,J n.v'l 174 MISADVENTURE. i I! " I neither heard nor saw anything," answered Archie, telhng this first direct he with a sickening sense of sjlf- contempt ; akhough, to be sure, it is no worse to tell lies than to act them. *♦ You did not, sir ? Well, so much the better, maybe. We can't bring back the dead, and I shouldn't ha' named this to you, sir — for I see it's put you about — without you'd pressed me to it. Henceforward I shall keep my mouth shut, sir, you may depend." Archie paused irresolutely. That (^oppard had spoken out all that was in his mind he did not believe ; yet would it be prudent to push him farther ? The man could not know anything, could not prove anything. His momen- tary flash of wrath had expired, and he now once more felt wretched, frightened, degraded, anxious chiefly to closed the interview and get away. Should he tip Cop- pard, or would that look too much like paying hush-money? Finally he decided to say : — " Well, my man, I think you can't do better than keep your mouth shut if you have nothing more than a very doubtful sort of conjecture to bring forward. But of course you can do just as you please aboi:t it. Here's half-a-crown for you ; I wouldn't spend it in drink if I were you." There was no harm, surely, in so small a donation as that ; one doesn't buy secrecy with half-a-crown. Coppard, at any rate, did not seem to regard it in the light of a bribe. He touched his hat, pocketed the coin and said reproachfully : — " Drink, sir ? 'Tis little enough o' that us poor fellows What I shall spend this here on is bread — bread for my missus and the young 'uns, as wants it badly." " Well, I hope you'll be as good as your word," said Archie, turning away. When he had time to collect his ideas he perceived that iie had been far too easily frightened, and also that if he could not control himself better he would infallibly betray his secret ere long. *'It comes to this," he muttered, •' that I must either learn to tell lies without wincing or throw up the sponge at once. Why haven't I got a face like that fellow Chet- wode's ? The fact is that I can't really be in danger from inybody except myself," gets ! MISADVENTURE. 175 That he had already fallen into one stupid blunder he had been reminded by Coppard's observations ; he ought certainly to have mentioned the circumstance of his having missed his train on the night of Morton's death. Why he had neglected to do so he hardly knew, except that he had shrunk from any allusion to that terrible evening ; but he now saw that the omission must be repaired as soon as possible, and he took the first opportunity that offered of saying carelessly to Cicely : — " By the way I never told you that you were right about my having run things too fine when I left here for Aldershot. I reached the station just in time to see the train go out, and I had to wait for the 12.15." " (5h, did you? How very tiresome for you !" she exclaimed. "What did you do with yourself all that time ?" •* I walked about. It was a very fine night." She gave a little shiver. " Oh yes ; it was that night, of course." And then after a pause, during which Archie's heart began to thump : — " If only you had walked as far as the Upton Chetwode path ! But we won't think about that." She was in truth quite as desirous of avoiding the subject as he could be, and neither then nor at any subse- quent time did it occur to her to put this and that together after the manner of Coppard. Her one great anxiety in those days was to devise some means of raising her father's spirits, which were painfully depressed, and next to that she wanted to cheer up Archie, who also seemed to be in need of someone to cheer him up. If she was successful in neither case she was scarcely conscious of her failure ; for both men loved her so much that the mere fact of seeing her was their greatest pleasure in life, and gave them a fictitious air of hght-heartedness while she was near. Archie, as has been said, was really light-hearted by fits and starts ; and as the da} s grew longer and warmer, and the summer set in in earnest, he began — without knowing it perhaps — to derive that sort of enjoyment from existence which sunshine and the voices of Nature bring to those vvhose minds are ill at ease. When a man of his age longs above all things for peace it may be assumed that he is in a bad way ; but at any rate no place could * I ' ^ ' II ! & rr. „.^-'iS 176 MtSADVENfURE. be better adapted than Abbotsport for the satisfaction of such longings. After a time he went for a day or two to Aldershot, as his uncle had suggested that he should do, took leave of his old comrades, made the usual valedictory addition to the regimental plate, and took a final part in the horse-play which he had found so delightful in days gone by. The change did him good, but he was glad to get back to the Priory again, and he told Cicely that he did not think he should ever care to leave home for long after they were married. ♦' That is fortunate." she answered ; *' fjg] I am quite sure that I shall not." But Miss Skip with who chanced to overhear this ex- pression of community of tastes, shook her head, for she had never contrived to banish the idea that Archie was more in love with the Priory than with his cousin. *' It will end badly. When people love one another they don't ( dte where they live," was the old lady's muttered comment upon the fragment of dialogue which had reached her ears. CHAPTER XXII. VICTOR REAPPEARS. I, During most London seasons there is one particular person who is a novelty and a success. The success, no doubt, is usually dependent and consequent upon the novelty, and those who in the course of one year have en- joyed the unstinted hospitality, kindness and flattery of the British capital will do well to betake themselves else- where the next, lest they should be painfully remindea of the instability of men and things. While it lasts, however, that kind of popularity is probably pleasant to everybody, and it was certainly very pleasant to Madame Souravieff, who orided herself upon her social gifts. lese, it must be admitted, were considerably above the average ; as she appeared to have plenty of money and had been taken up at the outset by certain dis- tinguished people, she had little difficulty in securing a % MISADVENTURE. 177 general appreciation of them. Then, too, it was well known that she was a political something-or-other — per- haps a Nihilist, perhaps a paid or honorary agent of the Russian Government, it did not much matter which — and that of coarse lent an additional interest to her ways and manners. Such was the exoteric view of her, and it had the effect of earning for her more invitations to dinners and balls than she could possibly accept. But in the political world there were not wanting individuals who took her with a seriousness that would have amused her husband immensely. Grave statesmen listened with courtesy and attention to her persuasive eloquence ; some of them (for she was really i very pretty woman, and her talk was almost as pretty as her face) even went the length of saying that they agreed with her to a great extent, and deplored, as she did, the ignorant obstinacy and obstinate ignorance of public opinion in this country. Moreover, she accomplished the complete subjugation of a newspaper editor, whom she asked to dinner repeat- edly, and who tyas so won over by her fascinations or her arguments that he began writing leading articles on the Eastern question which caused the constant reader to rub his eyes in stupefaction. Other editors who per- haps had stuflfed wax into their ears and had resisted the wiles of the siren, exposed in scaLhing terms the folly of this most unpatriotic man : for upwards of a fortnight a heated controversy raged between Russophiles and Russophobes, and hints of the existence of feminine in- fluence were printed m language plain enough to be understood by the people. All of which served to enhance Madame Souravieff's reputation. In short, she amused herself very well indeed, and was so busy that she had less time than usual for writing letters to Mark Chetwode and reading his replies, (^'-herwise she might possibly have noticed a gradual and suspicious change in his remarks about Miss Bligh. He was very cautious, he did not say much, but then he left a good deal unsaid, and though he still wrote as if this project of marr- ing him to the heiress was one for which his corres- pondent alotic was responsible, there were signs that it had ceased to be in any way disagreeable to him. The Russian lady however was not alarmed. Siie had formed i ■ ■■ I •'.J ' !| ■i f f*"" ifTiiiiiii mnmrfii 178 MISADVENTURE. i / 'Sv a mental picture of Cicely, in which that young lady figured as a simple rustic maiden who must be moulded and directed and made use of, but who should certainly be treated with all kindness and consideration. Mark, no doubt, would be bored by her at times ; but Mark was chivalrous, he would make an excellent husband, as hus- bands go, and he would always remember that he was indebted to his wife's fortune for the prominent political position which he would assuredly acquire sooner or later. When Madam Souravieff heard the news of Morton's sudden death and realised that the so called heiress would now become an heiress indeed she rejoiced with a joy which, to give her her due, was almost entirely unselfish. She wrote a letter of hearty congratulation to Mark, from whom, in the course of a day or two, she received a very laconic reply. " I have been preserved from exhibiting any indecent glee over the event which affords you so much satisfac- tion," he wrote, " because it does not and never will affect my destiny in the smallest degree. Irresistible as I am, Miss Bligh has managed to resist me. She is engaged to be married to her cousin, the young officer of cavalry, and I see myself condemned to celibacy, and to perpetual pov- erty, which is perhaps worse. For reasons which I need not specify, I have lately been cutting down a good many of my trees ; but I dare say there still remains one with a bough solid enough for me to hang myself upon." Madame Souravieff was much vexed. To accept a defeat was never agreeable to her, and Mark's supineness in the presence of adverse circumstances had often before this caused her irritation. " He is insupportable," she muttered impatiently. " He gives in without a struggle ; and how is one to help him, if he will not help himself? An engagement — bah ! What are engagements in England ? They have no force, no family sanction ; they are made and broken every day. This one must be broken," And straiglitway she despatched to Upton Chetwode peremptory instructions to that effect. These apparently remained without result. P'or sev- eral weeks she had not so much as a line from Mark, and she was growing seriously uneasy about him when, one v^ MISADVENTURE. 170 evening, she encountered for the second time the Httle lawyer who had asked to be introduced to her at Lord Queensferry's soon after her arrival in London. Mr. Wingfield bowed over his folded hands and recalled himself to the lady's recollection. She smiled and ex- tended her hand to him amiably ; for it was her rule to be amiable to everybody, added to which she thought that this man of law might have had some recent news of his client. Her surmise proved to be correct. Mr. Wingfield had heard that very morning from Mark, who was desperately eager to quit the neighborhood of Abbotsport, and was willing to let his house for a nominal rent to anybody who could be induced to relieve him of the expense of keeping it up. " I told him that I myself might very likely take his house at the end of the season," remarked Madame Souravieff. " Is it inhabitable, his house ? " "Well — it is inhabited," answered the lawyer, with a smile. " At all events, it could soon be made inhabitable, I have no doubt. And so he is anxious to run awav ? That is very foolish of him in my opinion. What do you think ? " Mr. Wingfield was at first not very willing to say wh:;f he thought ; but after he had been talked to with enga,. - ing candour for some minutes, he confessed that the news of Miss Bligh's engagement to her cousin had been a dis- appointment to him, and that he, too, had doubts as to whether it was necessarily irrevocable. " It is to be remembered, however," he added, " that if the young lady should cancel her engagement during her father's lifetime, an alteration in her father's will would be the probable consequence. At present, if I am cor- rectly informed, she has been constituted sole heiress ; but that is because she is going to marry a Bligh." Madame Souravieff was not slow to seize the point of this warning, " I see," she replied musingly. " And how much longer will Mr, Bligii live, do you suppose ? " The lawyer made a deprecating gesture and laughed. ♦' We must not allow Qur attachment to our friends tQ ¥.y Iy'V" «V j ..^. o 180 MISADVENTURE. / lead us into wishing; for anybody's death," said he, *• but I am afraid poor Mr. Bligh is in a very precarious state. Under all the circumstances, I should doubt , whether the marriage would take place for some time to come." After this he took an early opportunity of withdrawing, having attained his object. It would be all very well for a plotting and contriving woman to suggest schemes to Mark which, though a shade equivocal in themselves, would doubtless be productive of benefit to all concerned in the long run, but a respectable solicitor had better not mix himself up with such transactions. Madame Souravief! justified his somewhat uncivil esti- mate of her when she returned home from the party at which they had met ; for instead of going to bed she sat up for a considerable length of time hatching plots and con- trivances. She was disinterestedly anxious for Mark's advancement in life ; but she was also anxious to obtain control over a part of the wealth which must shortly be at Miss Bligh's disposal. No cause can make headway with- out funds ; and although her husband made ample pro- vision for her, her personal expenses were too heavy to allow of her forwarding large or constant remittances to the patriotic persons who appealed to her by almost every post. It was, therefore, most desirable that Mark should be encouraged and stirred up, and there was little hope that that could be done without personal supervision. " I must go to him," was her conclusion. " One would have liked to finish the season here ; but perhaps, after all, it is best to retire iit a time when one is sure to be missed. That gives one a better chance of being welcomed when one returns." On the following morning she was seated at her writing table by one of the windows, and had already scribbled off the opening sentences of a letter which was destined to prepare Mark for the treat which was in store for him, when she espied on the opposite side of the street the well known form of Count SouraviefF's confidential servant, servant. " Again ! ' she explained. " The poor dear man must have lost his head. What can he think that he will gain by sending his spies here now ? He must be very bailly informed if he doesn't know that Mark left LondoA ages ago I " MISADVENTURE. 181 But the obsequious Victor, who was ushered into her presence a few minutes later, after he had rung at the door and had been granted the interva w which he respect- fully craved, was able to show that his present visit was paid in a more honourable capacity than that with which she had credited him. '* Madame la Comtesse is mistaken," said he, in reply to her first contemptuous remark ; " Irlonsieur U Comte has not sent me here to make any re^'^.rt to him, but simply to deliver a message on his behalf." " That is a very regal fashion of communicating with me. However, since it amuses him — and what is your message, pray 1 " " Madame la Comtesse vill perhaps allow me to make a little explanation. It appears that Madame has had a great deal of success in London (one would expect no less !), that she has been very well received by the Minis- ters of the Queen, and that she has — how shall I express it ? — produced impressions which may possibly influence the future foreign policy of this country." Madame SouraviefF bent her head and smiled slightly ; this tribute to her political importance did not displease her. *• Rumours of this," continued Victor," ** have reached us in our retirement and have, I regret to say, had a dis- quieting effect on Monsieur le Comte.'' '* Impossible, my good Victor," returned Madame Souravieff, "that you can regret that more than I do. Convey the assurance of my sympathy to your master, and at the same time beg him to believe that any change which I may be able to bring about in the foreign policy of this country will not be to the disadvantage of my own." Victor said that the patriotism of Madame was above suspicion and must be patent to everybody. Unfortu- nately, however. Monsieur le Comte was extremely sensi- tive upon the subject of unauthorised diplomacy, and for some time past he had feared that Madame's activity — doubtless praiseworthy in itself — might not be receiving the countenance or support of the Russian ambassador at the Court of St. James. These fears had recently been confirmed in an unpleasant manner by a communication from St< ^Petersburg, in which Monsieur hs^d been sharply III' Hi ! it'^; ' , i !t W 182 MISADVKNIUIIE il rebuked and had been invited to exercise his domestic authority without delay. It was not considered desirable, Monsieur had been informed, that private individuals should claim the privilege of speaking, however indirectly, in the name of His Majesty the Czar. Such presumption could not be tolerated and must cease. " Madame la Comtesse will perceive," observed Victor in conclusion, " that the language used was very peremp- tory." This was not welcome hearing to Madame Souravieff, who had many irons in the fire, and was well aware that some of her schemes must of necessity be disavowed and ignored by the accredited representatives of her country, yet whose influence in high circles had been largely due to the circumstance that those accredited representatives had seemed to take a benevolent interest in her. " Well," she said sharply, " and afterwards ? " The valet raised his shoulders and displayed the palms of his hands. ** With all submission," answered he, "my orders are to see that Madame leaves London forthwith." " And if I refuse ? " " In that case, there will remain the means of per- suasion that Madame knows of. Nothing could be more cogent. It is useless to dispute the commands of those who have control over the sup- plies, and although Madame Souravieff was not devoid of power (because it was open to her to return to her husband and make herself so abominably disagreeable to him that he would offer her any money to go away again), he was evidently able to enforce her departure from London. As she had already almost made up her mind to depart, this did not tlistress her much ; but of course she made a great grievance of it. It was impossible, she said, fo take oneself off like that from or.e moment to another ; she must at least have a week in which to find some shelter. She had thought of spending the summer very quietly in some remote country district. Would that arrangement be considered satisfactory ? It was not, she presumed, intended to banish her from England altogether. Victor trying to conceal his surprise at this sudden sur- render, rt:plied that he believed Uiis plan would satisfy ^Jonsieur. MISADVENTURE. 183 % " It is not impossible," continued Madame Souravieff, " that I may take a country house belonging to Mr. Chet- wode." The valet raised his eyebrows. " A thousand pardons, Madame,'' said he ; " but is it permitted to me to inquire whether the master of the house would remain in it ? " '* Certainly not ; and if you ever dare to make such an insolent speech to me again I will take measures to make you regret it. I have already bribed you, and I could at any time obtain your dismissal : you must be aware of that. Nevertheless, you had better not disturb the Count's mind by mentioning to him the name of the gentleman whose house I propose to take. Here is some money for you.'* She tossed him a bank-note (one of the Count's bank- notes) and dismissed him with the remark that he would probably be able to report the completion of his mission within a week. Then she sat down and began a long letter to Mark Chetwode. f: .' f i f ; ■i I CHAPTER XXni. MARK S TENANT. From the day when Mark Chetwode admitted to him- self his love for Cicely, he had no other wish than to leave Abbotsport for ever. He was not a vain man, but he hated to be ridiculous ; and every time that he thought of his self-confidence he experienced a twinge about the region of the heart, which was caused almost as much by mortification as by the misery of unrequited love. How could he have been so fatuous ? — he who prided himself upon his dispassionate judgment and freedom from illu- sions of any kind. He stood before the looking-glass and shrugged his shoulders in dismal derision of the image lie saw reflected there. What a lined, unattractive, tired- looking face ! How absurd to imagine that it is possible to fall in love with anything except beauty, or at the very ittiot, youth ! Intellect uall} he was perhaps Archie Bligh's ri ^1, 184 MISADVENTURE. \ !■ ! 1 superior, but physically he was beyond measure the infer- ior of that stalv/art youn}^ fellow, and he had been an utter fool not to recognise his inferiority as well as its inevitable consequences. With these reflections and others of a like nature to occupy him, his customary calm philosophy soon gave way to the irritable despair of a caged animal. He was (lying to get away ; but how could he get away without money and with that useless millstone of a house about his neck ? It is even possible that there may have been yet another cause for his lingering at Upton Chetwode, and that, although he had abandoned all hope, he still hungered and thirsted for the sight of Cicely's face. That somewhat doubtful boon seemed, however, to be unattainable. The family at the Priory were, of course, living in the strictest retirement, and when he had called once to inquire after Mr. Bligh's health — upon which oc- casion he was not invited to enter the house — he felt that he had no excuse for further intrusion. Chance was kind, or unkind, to him at length on a sunny afternoon when, strolling through one of the woods which bordered his property, he was brought face to face with Miss Bligh, who was returning home from the Rec- tory. She could not very well pass him without speaking, nor, for the matter of that, did such appear to be her wish. She looked more beautiful than ever, he thought, in her deep mourning, which threw up the clear whiteness of her skin, and although she was a little grave, she did not affect the subdued manner usual with those who have experienced a recent bereavement. About that bereave- ment nothing was said ; she spoke principally of her father, who, as she declared with an eagerness which betrayed misgiving, was very much better than he had been. Not without hesitation did Mark make up his mind to ask whether the rumour which had reached him of her betrothal to her cousin was correct. He looked her full in the face while he put the question, and a faint flush mounted into her cheeks. But she replied without em- barrassment : — " Yes, it is true that we are engaged. We haven't given it out publicly, because the engagement may very MISADVENTURE. 18." likely be a long one. I couldn't think of leaving papa until he is stronger." Mark made use of some conventional phrases, for which she thanked him, and then came a pause. Perhaps his next observation was not in very good taste, but he had an intense desire to know for certain whether this match was one of love or convenience. So he said : — " In England and America, but nowhere else as far as I know, ladies are understood to have the privilege of consulting their own inclinations in the matter of marri- age ; but I have been told that this right is not invariably respected. I hope it has been in your case." Thereupon she flushed again, and this time a good deal more deeply. " If you knew me a little better," she replied, " you would hardly doubt that, I think. And," she added, with a respectful touch of indignation in her tone, " if anybody has been telling you — that sort of thing will be said, I daresay — that I am being forced into this marriage for family reasons, you may contradict your informant upon my authority." Well, that at any rate was explicit and conclusive enough. It was on the following day that Mark wrote that de- spairing letter to Mr. Wingfield which, as we have seen, brought about, for one of its consequences, Madame Souravieft's determination to become his tenant. The announcement of this determination, which was expressed in a thoroughly characteristic style, reached him shortly afterwards. " I take your house for three months from this day," Madame SouraviefF wrote ; *' therefore make your arrange- ments accordingly. Do not, however, include your exit from the neighbourhood of Abbotsport among them, or the bargain is void. I know you, my dear Mark ; you are like one of those strategists who withdraw their forces as soon as they perceive that they have been beaten accord- ing to the rules of war. The people who win battles don't trouble their head about the rules of war. They go on fighting, and then, lo and behold ! it turns out that the rules of war, like other rules, have exceptions. I am one of those people, and as you are under my orders (at least, you pro- IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) 1.0 I.I 'f ilM IIIM ■ m 11^ s^o 12.0 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 < 6" — ► m y, # <9 w /a '^A .* ¥ Jh o o 7 /A Photographic Sciences Corporation \ S V 4^ ..<':> ^o ^V ^ . ^ n. ^<:« N> «> *^K <> O'^ '% 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEO'iTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 873-4503 m :/j O <^ 1l 186 MISADVENTURE. Ill: m fess to be) you will oblige me by standing your ground until I give you the signal to advance and gain the victory. •• I do not ask you to remain in your own house as my C^uest ; that you never would consent to do, and I admit that the arrangement would present difficulties. But you will easily find quarters near at hand. " We will not have a formal lease, please ; only tell me what I am to pay. The other day I was offered a house in the country for the summer months at a rent of thirty guineas a week. Will that do ? I do not choose to give less — which you will almost certainly tell me to do — but of course I will willini:;ly give more." Then followed instruciions that no preparations were to be made for her reception. She would send her own servants down a few days in advance, and they would see to all that was necessary. It was not immedi it'^ly that Mark decided to accept this very liberal offer. F'or one thing it denied him just what he wanted, freedom and escape ; added to which, he shrank from the idea of being compelled to simulate a worn-out love and dissimulate a new and far more ardent one But in truth the offer was difficult to refuse. He could put forward no reason for refusal which would be considered valid for a moment ; and besides, in spite of himself, the cheery self-reliance of the woman who had so long held sway over him moved him a little. There was, after all, something in what she said ; battles are never lost until they are won. It even occurred to him as a pos sibility that he might be bold and confess the true state of affairs. Feminine nature is a curious thing, and have there not been instances of women who have helped the man who once loved them to marry somebody else ? But he soon dismissed this preposterous idea — iDie idee sau- grenue,aiS he called it, for he thought more often in French than in English. What seemed a less unreasonable thing to hope for was that, after a time, Madame Souravieff would grant him a short leave of absence, which it would be easy to find some excuse for prolonging. He balanced the pros against the cons for an hour or thereabouts ; but from the first it had been a foregone conclusion that Madame Souravieff would be obeyed, and an intimation that Upton Chetwode would be unmediately vacated by MISADVENTURE!. 187 n y its owner was despatched to her when the post went out. Having thus committed himself, Mark summoned his factotum, to whom he said briefly : — " Pierre, I have let this house for the summer to Mad- ame SouraviefF, and she will take possession at once. I do not propose to leave the neighbourhood just yet, so you will have to find quarters for me somewhere near." Pierre observed that suitable quarters might be a little difficult to discover at such short notice. " We must put up with unsuitable ones, then," re- turned his master. ♦' Anything will do. I am not par- ticular." He was in reality extremely particular ; but for some time past he had been living in a state of discomfort which before his arrival in England had been unknown to him ; so that he was to some extent broken in, and was able to submit without a murmur to the prospect of housing him- self in the lodgings above Mr. Simpkins the grocer's shop, which were all that the active Pierre could offer him, after a day of search and inquiry. " It must be confessed that there is an odour of cheese and of something else — I think it must be brown sugar — which penetrates into every part of the house of Simp- kins," Pierre said, apologetically, " but the rooms them- selves are not so bad. It appears that several of the assistant pasteurs — curSSf he called them — have lived there and have not complained. For the rest, I suppose that Monsieur has not the intention of remaining long in Abbotsport." Monsieur was not given to be communicative, took no notice of the last observation ; he merely ordered Pierre to pack up forthwith, and on the ensuing morning Mr. Simpkins bustled out into the street in his shirt-sleeves and a white apron to receive the gentleman upon whom he now remembered with regret that he had lately been somewhat severe while discharging a public duty. " No fault of mine, sir," he took occasion to explain. " Personally I was dead against saying anything of the kind ; but until you've served on a jury you can't form no idea of the hobstinacy of some jurymen, sir. We have to humour 'em a bit or we shouldn't get no verdict at all." •• I assure you I never thought of attaching the small* t « I 'i SI 1 1*1 ! 188 MISADVENTURE. est importance to the proceedings of any of you," ans- wered Mark, urbanely. ♦' Pray don't let me keep you away from your business any longer now." Simpkins, therefore, had to retire without finding out anything about the foreign lady who had so suddenly and incomprehensibly been seized with a fancy for Upton Chetwode. He avenged himself during the remainder of the day by telling his customers that for his part he didn't believe the mysterious stranger to be no lady at all, and that foreigners were a miserable, half-starved lot at best. " Poor Mr. Morant, he was a gentleman and kep' up what I call a proper establishment ; but one can't 'ardly 'ope to see another like him in that tumbledown old place." This, however, was a hasty and prejudiced assumption, as Mr. Simpkins was the first to admit when Madame Sour- aviefF arrived with an imposing escort of domestics and sent him an order for groceries which caused his round eyes to goggle like a toad's. The political interests of Russia do not, unfortunately, coincide altogether with ours, and this inclines many of us to be more alive to Russian defects than to Russian virtues ; but nobody can deny these people the merit of spending their money freely. It is a fine quality, and every true Briton appre- ciates it. Mark was familiar with Madame SouraviefF's regal way of doing things, and her faculty for making herself very comfortable wherever she went, but even he was amazed when he went to pay his respects to her and saw the transformation which a few days had effected in his dilap- idated mansion. •' You are marvellous ! " he exclaimed. " Nobody in the world but you could work these miracles. How do you contrive it ? " «• Nobody but a nomad knows how to pitch a tent," she answered, laughing ; " but when once the trick has been acquired it is simple enough. If I never had any more marvellous feats to perform than a little arrange- ment of upholstery, perhaps I should not look as old for my age as I do." He made the requisite rejoinder, and then observed that she had now undertaken a feat which looked to him very like an impossibility. MISADVENTURE. 189 *• Well," said she, " that is what remains to be seen. I admit that it will be impossible unless you help me, and we shall have to go to work with a good deal of caution. Luckily, there is no need for haste. The old gentleman must die in the belief that his daughter will marry her cousin ; otherwise you would risk losing the estates alto- gether." Mark pulled a wry face. " I don't think we shall succeed," he said. " Is it worth while to be dishonourable and then to fail ? " " Oh, if you begin to make objection at the outset ! " " I don't wish to make objections ; but I have a pre- judice in favour of keeping my hands clean." " You can wash them as soon as you have done your work. It is chiefly for that purpose that soap and water and religious creeds exist. The work of the world isn't clean work, as you ought to know. You belong to soci- eties which are not over scrupulous in the means that they employ to secure their ends." " Do I ? Well, I suppose I do. But than they never secure their ends, and so far as I know, they seldom go beyond talking of the means. At any rate, they have never asked me to assassinate anybody," " They might, though." " Yes, that is a pleasing reflection. But public and private affairs don't stand upon quite the same footing, do they?" Madame Souravieff made an impatient gesture. " Let us understand one another, Mark," said she. " You have an opportunity now which does not come twice in a lifetime. If you don't care to take advantage of it, tell me so, and you will spare me a good deal of trouble. But if you will be content to do as I tell you, the remain- der of your life will most likely be much happier than mine. Do you think I never look forward to the future ? Do you think that, if I were a selfish woman, I shouldn't prefer to leave you as you are ? Only you are too cold and too sceptical to believe that any human being can be disinterested." He made his peace with her and promised to obey her orders, not seeing that any other course was open to him. He could not tell her why he war. sensitive in respect to 1 1 i- n ji " \ i' 190 Misadvknture. his dealings with Cicely, and he was afraid that if he said any more about it she would guess. So he listened to the instructions that she had to give him, and answered to the best of his ability certain shrewd questions which she put to him with regard both to Cicely and to her affianced lover. *' The outlook is more promising than I expected," was her conclusion. " Such a girl as you describe will cer- tainly grow tired of such a man if she has to talk to hini and to nobody else every day for weeks togetlier. Your part will be a very easy one at first. You will not obtrude yourself, but you will take care to let her perceive the difference between a cultivated man of the world and a stupid young soldier. If you could insinuate very dis- creetly that you were the victim of a hopeless passion, that would do no harm." For the part assigned to him Mark felt that he pos- sessed special aptitudes, and this made him smile, which pleased Madame Souravieff. *' Come,'* she exclaimed, •' a little courage ! You shall be a Kussian member of the English Parliament — perhaps even a Russian member of the English Ministry — before I liave done with you. Consider the importance of that to me, and it will relieve you from the hard trial of believing ihat 1 have nothing to gain by working for you." CHAPTER XXIV. m MADAME SOURAVIFFF IS CRITICISED. As mny be imagined, the advent of the Russian lady, with her staff of servants, her horses and her carriages, created no small stir in the vicinity of Abbotsport, and everybody vvantcd very much to know who she was and what in the world she had come there for. Thus it became imperative upon Mrs. Lowndes, in her character of local purveyor of news, to find some answer to questions which were being addressed to her from all quarters, and a. the same time to gratify her ov^n pardonable curiosity. •• Robert," said she, " we must call upon this Countess MISADVENTURE. 191 Thingummy. I hope she is all right, though I confess that I have my doubts. But I snail be better able to judge when I see her." •• Do you think she will like to be called upon ? " asked the Rector dubiously. " I really don't know ; but that isn't the question." •• What is the question, my dear ? Whether she is all right ? While that remains uncertain wouldn't it be better for us to avoid risk of contamination by leaving her alone ? " " A parish priest," returned Mrs. Lowndes severely, " cannot be contaminated by visiting his parishioners. Indeed, it is his duty to visit them." Mr. Lowndes yielded, as lie very generally did when ihere was anythmg like a difference between him and his wife. It saves wear and tear to give in at first when you know that you will certainly have to give in at last ; and so, later in the day, the Rector's pony-chaise was seen cutting up the fresh gravel which had been strewn in front of the entrance of Upton Chetwode. It was seen, that is to say, by some of Madame Soura- viefTs retainers, but not by that lady herself, who, being in the drawing-room, the windows ot which looked towards another point of the compass, was just the least bit in the world taken aback when her visitors were announced. No surprise, however, was perceptible in her manner of receiving them, and although at first she could not imagine who they were or what they had come for, Mr. Lowndes' clerical garb soon enlightened her. Of that honest gentleman's esteem she made a speedy conquest. She was not particularly well informed as to Anglican doctrines, but in those of the Orthodox Church (she was much too clever to call it the Orthodox Church) to which she belonged, she was thoroughly posted, and she at once led the conversation into a theological channel which Mr. Lowndes found most interesting. " Our points of agreement are so many and our differ- ences so comparatively unimportant," said he, after a time, " that I cannot help hoping that the dream of union and reconciliation may be realized some day. With Rome one knows that fraternisation is not possible. Rome won't advance an inch to meet us nor abate one jot of her 1l 192 xMISADVKNTURE. pretensions, She demands unconditional surrender, and that, I think I may say, she will never obtain from the bulk of the English nation." " Rome," agreed Madame SouraviefF solemnly, " is the enemy. But for the Romish clergy we should never have had one half of the trouble that we have had in Poland, and if Austria were not under the thumb of the Pope we should long ago have found some means of reconciling our interests with hers." " Oh, but if Austria is really under the thumb of the Pope, and if that is the result of her being so, I am afraid, as a loyal Briton, I must say that I am very glad of it," observed the Rector, laughing. *' We shouldn't quite like to see you and Austria making an amicable division of Turkey." This gave Madame Souravieflf an opportunity of explaining Russia's true mission in the East, and of point- ing out how simple it would be to offer compensation to England, which would render the transfer of Constanti- nople to a civilised and civilising power a positive advantage to her, instead of a menace. " It is a mere question of common sense and good will," she declared. Thus the Rector quite forgot to put any personal questions to his interlocutor, not even so much as inquir- ing what had tempted her down to Abbotsport, while his wife fretted and fumed at the necessity under which she found herself of making conversation with Mark Chetwode. For Mark had been sitting with Madame SouraviefF and had looked, as Mrs. Lowndes afterwards declared, " most distinctly caught " on being discovered. In any case, there was not much information to be got out of him. " A sealed book I " the good lady exclaimed impatiently, when she was once more seated beside her husband in the pony chaise. "One would think he did it on purpose to be aggravating, and indeed I dare say he does. Nothing but • yes ' and * no,' and sometimes an absurd affectation of ignorance. He didn't know what had induced the Countess to take his house ; didn't know how long she meant to stay ; didn't know anything, in short I Not that he shows much wisdom in being so reticent ; because that makes it pretty plain that he has something to conceal. You remember what I told you, Robert, when he first MISADVENTUUE. ion came dov;n here. I said : ' Depend upon it, there is soin^ entanglement.' Well — there you are ! " " Is Madame Souravieff an entanglement ? " asked the Rector, with a tolerant smile, while he flicked the fat pony. *♦ That, I should think, must be obvious to everybody." " Oh, well, it wasn't obvious to me. She isn't very young, and it struck me that she was more interested in political and church matters than anything else. A remarkably well informed and agreeable woman, I thought her." " My dear Robert, of course she's agreeable. As for Church matters, I should like to know what her Church has to say about a wife's duties. She has d husband — that much I did find out. And she usually lives apart from him. And Mr. Chetwode has taken Simpkins' poky little lodgings rather than leave Abbotsport while she is here. If these facts don't tell their own tale, I'm very much mis- taken." *• Well, my dear, if you know all about it we need not grumble at Chetwode's silence," observed the Rector good- humouredly. That was the sort of speech which, as Mrs. Lowndes often said, made Robert such a provoking companion at times. He never would understand that things ought to be cleared up. So long as things are not cleared up, how can you tell where you are with people ? Besides, she wanted to be able to confirm, or remove, the very natural doubts felt in the neighbourhood. At the Priory, as elsewhere, the stranger was made the subject of a little discussion ; but in that house there could be no present question of calling upon anybody, and as it was understood that Madame Souravieff had only taken Upton Chetwode for the summer, not much conjec- ture was spent upon her. •* One of Chetwode's Russian friends, I suppose," re- marked Mr. Bligh. ■• I hope she is paying him a good rent ; for I suspect that he needs it, poor fellow ! " ** It is more likely that he is letting her have the use of the house for nothing ; he always seems to me to be a man who cares very little about money," said Miss Skip- with, whose penchant for Mark had survived the destruc- tion of the hopes which she had once entertained on his behalft J "f /I 194 MISADVENTURE. id; But Mr. Bligh did not appear to be p^reatly interested in Mark or in Madame SouravieiT, or indeed in anybody. Ever since the attack which had followed Morton's deatli he had been singularly apathetic, and his'painful efforts to rouse himself when his daughter was in the room were apparent to everybody except to Cicely, who would not see them. She closed her eyes to this and other ominous indica- tions of her father's state ; but she was less blind with re- gard to Archie, who had changed in more ways than one. It was not only that he had fits of unaccountable depres- sion, but that he had become nervous and irritable, ann, what was still worse, was developing a tendency to be ex- acting. Now this was just what Cicely had dreaded from the first. She was very fond of him and very unwilling to hurt his feelings, yet, for both their sakes, he ought to be made to understand that that kind of thing would never do, and that he must not look cross or injured if she de- clined to be always at his beck and call. One morning, when she was obliged to say that she was too busy to go out riding with him, he turned away with such an impatient movement and sighed so noisily that the right moment seemed to have come for reading iiim a lecture. This she accordingly did — with results I hat were not altogether satisfactory. He begged her par- Jon very humbly; he admitted that he had shown temper md that he ought not to have done so; but he did not juite lay aside his aggrieved air, and that was the one .liing that she had wanted him to do. " The truth is, Archie," she said, " that you are out of !;orts; that is what makes you unreasonable. It can't be i^ood for you to live as you are doing now, without any amusement and never seeing other men. I wish you would go away for a few weeks. Why shouldn't you ? " "If you wish me to go," he answered dolefully, ** of course there's no reason why I shouldn't and every reason why I should. How long must I be away ? " " That is silly," returned Cicely, her own temper be- ginning to give way a little ; ♦' you know perfectly well that I only suggest your going away because you evidently need a change. Do just as you like about it, only please don't behave like a spoilt boy." MISADVENTURE. 195 She left the room without giving him time to make any rejomder, for she had no intention of quarrelling with him ; but her conscience soon began to smite her, and when she next saw him and noticed his woel)egone count- enance, she felt that she had spoken too sharply. It is not wise to whip a dog or a child or to snub a lover and afterwards to exhibit signs of regret for what you have done. The temptation is sometimes strong, but it should be resisted by such as desire to retain their authority. Cicely, who was accustomed to authority and tolerably skilful in the exercise of it, was not unaware of this ele- mentary rule ; but after all, she had promised to be Archie's wife, and perhaps it was hardly right to trample upon him. She therefore proceeded to undo the effect of her re- proof (which had been really salutary) by saying, with a smile : — •• Haven't you forgiven me yet, Archie ? I was very disagreeable this morniiiLj, I know, but I want to make friends again now, and 1 find I shall have time for a short gallop with you, if you don't mind starting rather late." So Archie went round to the stable-yard to give the necessary orders, and soon after five o'clock they set forth for a certain broad stretch of down that they knew of, where the exhilaration of feeling good horses under them and the rush of the soft westerly wind in their faces soon swept away all remains of discontent or ill-humour. The very best way of making up a quarrel is doubtless to say no more about it, and the quarrels of lovers are generally supposed to terminate in a manner rather pleas- ing than otherwise. But of these two persons only one could be called a lover, and for that reason it might pos- sibly have been better if the little scene of the morning had led to a fuller explanation between them. As it was. Cicely still thought that the young man would do well to leave the Priory tor a time and amuse himself, whilfi he still thought her proposition a heartless one. For the time being, however, they repressed their respective opinions, and, having thoroughly enjoyed their ride, fell back natu- rally to those easy terms of comradeship which had sub- sisted between them prior to their engagement, and the continuance of which was all that Cicely, for her part, desired. »f 196 MISADVENTUBX. VV it 1 « ( Now, on that same afternoon, as chance would have it, Madam Souravieff, who had brought saddle horses down from London, iiad persuaded Mark Chetwode to make use of one of them ; and so it came to pass that this couple, while jogging homewards, espied another couple ahead of them. " Nothing could be better I " Madam Souravieff ex- claimed, when she had been told who these equestrians were. " We will canter on and overtake them, and you shall introduce me. 1 had been wondering how we could contrive to bring about an accidental meetmg." Mark would just as soon have deferred that meeting a little longer ; for the idea of bringing his old and his new love together jarred upon him somehow. But of course the thing had to be done sooner or later, and upon this occasion, as it turned out, the two ladies only exchanged a swift mutual glance of curiosity and a few unmeaning words. For four people cannot very comfortably ride abreast, and Madam Souravielf thought it best that she should undertake the young soldier and leave Mark to give evidence of his respectful sympathy with the heiress in this time of domestic trial. Mark did not do that, being aware that Cicely's domes- tic sorrows were not of a kind which she cared to talk about, but he bore a previous hint his mentor's in mind and took some trouble to say clever things without appar- ent effort. Cicely, who had always liked him and found him interesting, did, as a matter of fact, draw some half- unconscious comparisons between him and her cousin, which could not be to the latter's advantage. She was young ; she had been leading a very dull life of late ; and it was j)leasant to be entertained by one who had seen so much of the world and could talk so amusingly of his varied experiences. " And now are you going to begin wandering about agiin ? " she asked. '* Have you let your house for any length of time ? " " Only for three months, I believe," he answered. " In- deed I can hardly imagine that Madam Souravieff will care to stay so long." " Well, that will depend upon what brought her here, won't it ? I suppose she wouldn't have taken Upton '^i MISADVENTURE. 197 Chetwode if she hadn't been anxious for a quiet sort of existence." •• To tell you the truth, I suspect that one of her prin cipal reasons was that she wanted to pfive a little help to an impecunious friend," answered Mark ; for he had thought over what he should say upon this subject. "She is a very old friend of mine," he added. •' I used to see a great deal of her and Count Souravieff in St. Petersburg." •• And what has become of Count Souravieff? Is he dead ? " •' No, but he has a chronic derangement of the liver, which makes him rather a disagreeable person to live in the house with. Besides, his wife holds Si' 'ng political opinions which he doesn't share. So, as a i^eneral rule, he goes his way and she goes hers. It is one of those cases in which no blame attaches to eit^ lt side, and after a certain time of life people who don't suit one mother arc- wiser to In e apart if they can, I think." Cicely made no comment upon this succinct account of Ihe Russian lady's domestic affairs ; but she glanced at the figure in front of her, which looked youthful enough in a riding-habit, and it occurred to her that the time of life referred to by Mark must be reached rather early. Her next question was : — •' Where do you think of going this oummer ? You don't intend to spend it above Simpkins' shop, I presume." " I scarcely know what I intend," he answered can- didly. ** I wanted to go as soon as I let the house ; but I couldn't run away just as Madame Souravieff came ; and now " «( And now you don't think you can run away as long as she remains ? " suggested Cicely, after waiting in vain for him to finish his sentence. " No ; If I linger here in spite of the smell of Mr. Simpkins' cheese, it won't be for that reason, I think," he answered, with a laugh which ended in a sigh. " For what reason, then ? " she inquired wonderingly. " Some day perhaps I may tell you ; but it is much more likely that I never shall. In any case it is an absurd reason. Let us talk about something else." It will be perceived that Mark knew how to carry out instructions. His manner of doing so, which may, per- ?i 198 MISADVENTURE. .1,1 i( 5 ■ ! haps, in narration, give an idea of somewhat rough work- manship, must nevertheless be pronounced to have been successful, inasmuch as he had managed to rouse Cicely's curiosity and even to convey to her a very va^ue inkling of the truth. It was only a very vague inkling ; because, although she was aware that a great many men admired her, she was by no means ready to believe that they loved her. It w;is, however, quite sufficient for Mark's purpose ; and seeing the impression that he had produced, he wisely forebore to deepen it. Madame Souravieff, in the meantime, had had no diffi- culty at all with Archie. She sometimes, though not often, found a difficulty in getting on with women, but never with men, and if this one was a little taciturn at first, she soon made him loquacious. On reaching the point where their paths diverged, she begged him to come and see her some day, when he had nothing better to do, and took leave of him and Cicely with smiling friendliness, mingled with just so much of formality as is becoming in a lady who has not yet been called upon. But she became grave when she and Mark were once more alone together. She rode beside him in silence for some little distance and then turned upon him abruptly with the remark which he had been quite sure that she would make. ^^Savez-vous qu'elle est furieusement belle, votre heri- tiere ? " " So I told you long ago," he answered dryly. " No, you said she was pretty — that is a very different thing." " You are not going to accuse me of having lost my heart to her, I hope," said Mark, turning his impassive face towards his companion. She gave her shoulders a jerk and laughed. "Perhaps not. In order to lose one's heart one must first have a heart to lose, Still the fact remains that Miss Bligh is beautiful and — and that I am no longer what. I was." Mark had to reassure her and to drag forth certain long-disused protestations from the recesses of his memory. It v»ras not a pleasant occupation and he did not enjoy it ; but when he had done, he hnd at least the satisfaction of MISADVENTURE. 199 knowing that he had lulled her awakening suspicions. Possibly Madame Souravieff was not unwilling that they should be lulled. CHAPTER XXV. SIR PETER SHAKES HIS HEAD. heri- ["erent |st my issive must Miss Ihat. 1 irtain lory. )y it; Ion of Akchie told Cicely that he thought Madame Souravieff ** a very good sort." She had been saying to him, it appeared, how fond she was of Englishmen and English ways : she had a capital seat on a horse, she was surpris- ingly well informed as to the strength and efficiency of the British army and had spoken about it in terms of un- qualified admiration, the sincerity of which it was impossible to doubt. In short, Archie was free to confess that he never would have expected to find such a combi- nation of estimable qualities in a Muscovite. "She asked me to call upon her some day," he remarked. " Do you think I might go ?" V "Why not?" asked Cicely, laughing. •* Well I wasn't quite sure whether it would be a a proper thing. I suppose >'om wouldn't come with me." " Not just yet. She will understand that I can't pay visits at present ; or if she doesn't understand, you can explain to her." The little that Cicely had seen and heard of Mark's tenant had not inspired her with any very strong desire to cultivate that lady's acquaintance ; but she was only too glad that Archie should have somebody besides herself to exchange ideas with, and she urged him to take ad- vantage of the invitation which he had received. ♦* You will be doing an act of charity by helping Mr. Chetwode to entertain her," she observed demurely. Circumstances, however, soon arose which necessitated the indefinite postponement ot that charitable act, and caused Cicely to forget that any suv^a person as Madame Souravieff existed. For the very next morning Mr. Bligh's valet came running down stairs, with an alarmed lace, to say that he thought the doctor ought to be sent for. Hi rili't \ ! i i * i 200 MISA.DVENTUBE. His master had had a quiet night and had awoke much as Usual, but in the last few minutes there had been what he called •• a sudden change," and he was afraid things were going to take a turn for the worse again. The change of which he spoke, and which could hardly be described as sudden, was simply that which heralds the approach of death ; and even Cicely could not deceive herself as to its meaning when she entered her father's bed- room. He was lying back in his chair with his eyes closed. Every vestige of color had left his cheeks ; his breathing was labored and irregular ; his long, thin fingers twitched convulsively every now and then. It did not need the melancholy air and the solemn circumlocutions of the doctor who came in all haste, to convince Cicely that the time had come to bid farewell to hope. Never- theless she insisted upon despatching a telegram to Sir Peter Parsons. *' It is a great expense and will be quite useless," the local practitioner told Archie ; •* the whole College of Physicians could do no good now." '• But she wishes it," returned the young man ; ** and what signifies the expense ? It is of no consequence to her." ♦' That is true, no doubt," assented the other, with a rather wistful sigh (for he could not help thinking what an immense number of people he would have to kill or cure before he could hope to realise such a sum as the great man would receive in return for a comfortable railway journey and a shake of the head). "If it is any comfort to Miss Bligh to hear the worst upon a higher authority than mine, so be it. But I almost doubt whether Sir Peter will be here in time." Sir Peter arrived in time to fulfil the forecast of his provincial confrtre by shaking his head, but more than that lie could not do, except to promise that he would remain in the house until all was over — which, he added, would be a question of hours only. " You may remember," he said to Archie, " that I warned you of what must be expected. I would have warned the poor girl also ; only it seemed best to spare her the wretchedness of waiting for weeks or months in daily dread of the blow falling," MISADVENTUBE. 201 fhis nth an lould Ided, latl lave [pare IS in Sir Peter had doubtless acted mercifully, but Cicely felt as most people feel at such times and was not disposed to be grateful to him for his consideration. She ought to have been told, she thought. Why had she been kept in ignorance while everybody else had been prepared ? Why had she been allowed to be cheerful and behave as though the danger was over ? It made her seem cruel to her father, who (as her aunt told her by way of comforting her) had been under no illusion as to his hopeless state. These thoughts, however, she kept to herself. There was no use now in reproaching people who had meant to be kind ; only she wished they would all go away and leave her with her father, who showed no sign of returning consciousness. But of course they did not go away. They stood about and whispered and crossed the room on tiptoe, in accordance with what would appear to be one of the dic- tates of human nature. It is difficult to see why one should not be allowed to die alone, since nobody thinks of grudging one the privilege of living alone ; but we may as well make up our minds that, unless we have the good fortune to meet with a violent death, the last thing that we shall see in this world will be a circle of faces of pre- ternatural length, and must console ourselves with the reflection that they will resume their usual and more becoming outline very soon after we have left them. To Mr. Bligh it mattered not at all whether many or few spec- tators witnessed the losing battle which he was fighting, for only his body was engaged in that struggle, his mind having already retired from the field never to return. Before midnight the universal conqueror scored one more victory, and for the first tin e in the history of an ancient and honorable family the Bligh estates, with a'l the endow- ments and responsibilities attaching thereto, passed into the possession of a woman. When Mr. Bligh had ceased to breathe, others perhaps breathed more freely. They sincerely regretted one who all his life long had had many friends and no enemies ; still they had known that he was doomed, and they were not sorry that a painful scene was over, and they all agreed in praisinsf the courage and composure with whicli Cicely had pjssed through it. 1^ Hi ! ! n !I. T I 202 lOSADVENTUBE. With courage she might be credited, for that was a quality inherent in her blood; but her composure gave way as soon as she had reached her bedroom, where she threw herself face downwards upon a sofa and so lay, sobbing miserably, until Nature obtained the mastery over her and brought her an hour or two of sleep. Nature always has the last word, though she sometimes allows us to fancy that we can command her. Nature goes quietly on with her ceaseless work of destruction and renewal, brings us health and sickness and death, makes us sad and then merry again, whether we will or no. Mercifully, however, we are so constituted that in moments of excite- ment or emotion we cannot believe this. We very often speak of love as eternal, occasionally meaning what we say : and when those whom we have loved most are taken from us, we almost always feel certair that our wounds cannot at any future time be wholly cured or cease to pain us. Cicely, at any rate, had somewhat better reasons than most of us have in times of bereavement for thinking that she could never again be as happy as she had been. A dispassionate outsider might have told her that it was extremely probable that she never would. Her father's death must of necessity draw a sharp line across the course of her life, concluding the first portion of it, which had been exceptionally free from cares of any kind. From that day forth she would have to bear upon her shoulders the burden of duties which women seldom discharge satis- factorily, and she was engaged to be married to a man of whom it might safely be predicted that he would give her assistance in matters of detail only. Mr. Lowndes had once told him that whoever married Cicely Bligh must resign himself to accept the part of prince-consort. It is a difficult part to play, demanding an even temper, much tact and not a little forbearance. But of course it was not the prospect of the future in this sense that overwhelmed Cicely with sorrow. What was so terrible to her was that her father should have- left her without one word of farewell, and that her last words to him should have been careless words, expressing; no anxiety about him, nor any thing of the affection which, as it seemed to her, was the one strong sentiment of which she had been or ever would b:: capable. It may have W * } MISADVENTURE. 203 been from some undefined fear lest Archie should imagine that he could offer her in his own proper person a substi- tute for what she had lost, or it may have been because his attempts to comfort her were not very adroit, tliat she avoided him during the days which followed and gave him to understand that she preferred the companionship of her Aunt Susan, who was tearful and sympathetic, j'et per- plexed by behavior which struck her as unnatural. It was after Mr. Bligh's coffin had been laid beside that of his son, and the family lawyer had come and gone, and the blinds at the Priory had been pulled up again, that Miss Skipwith imparted some of her misgivings to the Rector of the parish. She said : — " My heart fails me about Cicely. She doesn't care for that young man, and it is useless for her to pretend that she doej-." " My dear Madam, what can have put such a notion as that into your head ? " cried Mr. Lowndes, who did not think highly of Miss Skipwith's intelligence. '• As far as I can judge, the young people are simply devoted to one another." " Oh, yes ; but you are only a man and you can't judge," returned Miss Skipwith, with unwonted sharpness. " You don't live in the house either ; so you haven't seen how she has shrunk from him and kept him at arm's Itngth ever since her great sorrow came upon her." " If that is all, I don't think you need be much alarmed," raid the Rector. *' Trouble affects a great many people Ike physical pain and makes them dislike to be touched or approached. I can quite understand her feeling." •* I am by no means sure that you do," returned Miss Skipwith, shaking her head. •♦ She isn't sensitive in the way that you suppose ; it seems to be a relief to her to talk about her father and about the past and the future. Only it is to me, not to him that she speaks. Say what you will, that is not the way in which any girl would treat the man whom she loved." *♦ Well, but if she doesn't love him why should she have accepted him ? " " We know that these mistakes are not uncommon : it is very fortunate when they are discovered in time to be l^cpaired. IMy own feeling is that th^ yoyng map ought; ' ,^! 204 MISADVENTURE. f'! Hi : I i to go away. The marriage cannot take place for many months to come, and " " Why can't it ? " interrupted the Rector. " Because Cicely wouldn't hear of sucn a thing ; nor would it be proper. Indeed, I am not at all clear that it is proper for him to stay on in the house, under the circumstances. What do you think ? " " I don't see the harm of his being here, so long as Cicely has you to act as her chaperon," answered the Rector ; " but I don't set up to be an authority upon such points. I'll ask Mrs. Lowndes if you like." This kind offer Miss Skipwith declined with more promptitude than appreciation. She did not want to be taught her duty by Mrs. Lowndes, though she would have been willing to accept advice from her parish priest, had it been of a nature to lend support to her own views. Apparently, however, he was not to be counted upon as an ally ; so in the course of a few days she adopted what, after all, was the most straightforward plan and attacked Cicely personally. *' My dear child," said she, when she had led up to the* subject by various preliminary circlings and doublings, " you are only laying up unhappiness for yourself. You have a strong feeling of attachment for your cousin, which I don't say he may not deserve, but you cannot deceive me into supposing that you care for him as a wife should care for her husband." «• What makes you say that. Aunt Susan ? " asked Cicely, raising her heavy eyes, with a wondering and startled look. " It is obvious," replied the old lady t " he himself must see it. All this time you have been giving yourself the greatest trouble to keep him at a distance ; and if you don't know why you have been doing that, I can tell you. Believe me, it would be wiser and kinder — though it may not be pleasant — to confess to him at once that you do not love him." This, as we know, was a confession that Cicely had already made ; but she did not feel inclined to repeat it to her aunt, by whom it was likely to be misunderstood. Nevertheless, she might have thought of some rather more judicious rejoinder than ; — MISADVENTURE. 205 <« You don't lose any time in asking me to do what would have distressed papa more than anything else. It was his one great wish that I should marry Archie, and you rnay be sure that he would never have wished me to do that if he hadn't been convinced that I should be happy as Archie's wife." " Exactly so," agreed Miss Skipwith, seizing the weapon offered to her ; •* that is precisely my feeling about it. If your poor father had seen what I have seen, he would have been the first to say what I have just said." " You think you see things because you want to see them, Aunt Susan," returned Cicely. *' If I have seemed unkind to Archie, I am very sorry for it ; but I hope he has made some allowance for me. Such as I am, I believe he is not dissatisfied with me ; and if he ever is, it will be for him to complain, not for other people. Please say no more about it." Miss Skipwith was easily cowed, and when her niece looked at her after a certain fashion she invariably suc- cumbed. All she ventured to ask was : — '♦ And is he to remain in this house until your wedding- day ? It is your house now, you must remember, and he is here as your guest." " He is a very welcome one," answered Cicely. '• Wheth- er he stays or goes must be as he pleases , he certainly will not be turned out by me." This closed a discussion which had not helped Miss Skipwith's case, but from which that of Archie derived indirect benefit. For Cicely now saw that she had put his patience and his submissiveness to a somewhat too severe test, and from that day she began once more to exert her- self to please him. She began also to exert herself in other ways, and though her heart was still heavy, her speech resumed something of its customary cheerfulness and decision. 1 2i)G MISADVENTURE. CHAPTER XXVI. MADAME SOURAVIEFF SETS TO WORK, Abbotsport, which, through all the varieties of wild weather which commonly set in about the middle of Sep- tember and rage with little intermission until the middle of May, looks not less bleak and stormbeaten than other fishing villages on the south coast, is transformed for three or four months out of every year into as lovely, peaceful and slumberous a seaside retreat as any overworked Lon- doner could dream of. Then the sun shines down with strength upon the slate roofs, and makes the chalk cliffs so dazzlingly white that no one can look at them without blinking ; then the sea is at rest, and barelegged children can paddle about among the rocks at low water to their heart's content, and the trees on either side of the road which leads to the Priory and to Upton Chetwode give a grateful shade, and every wooded dell and green bank is bright with wild flowers. At this season Abbotsport, always disposed to be contemplative, indulges largely in those habits ot placid n.editation which soften life and tend to prolong it ; at this season, too, it does the greater part of its courting ; and if there were any accommoda- tion to be found in the place (but there is not, for the Seven Stars is apt to be a little noisy after sunset and Mr. Simpkins' lodgings are seldom free from clerical occupa- tion), an idle or weary man might do worse than betake himself thither, and might derive as much amusement as was necessary for his purpose from watching the humours of a primitive community. But there are many men who know nothing of the pleasure of inaction ; men (Anglo-Saxon, for the most part, by race) who are blessed with such redundant health and vigour that unless they are tiring their bodies in some way their minds grow restless and uneasy; and these usually prefer winter to summer, because in winter they can be hunting or shooting all day long, whereas in summer there is not much to be; ^oii^ ei^cept to play II MISADVENTURE. 107 cricket, and cricket is not obtainable everywhere. It was not obtainable, save in a very rudimentary form, at Ab- botsport ; and even if it had been, it would hardly have been considered decorous for Archie Bligh to take any part in it so soon after his uncle's death. Very likely the morbid irritation from which he could not free himself may have been due in some degree to want of exercise, and undoubtedly Cicely was right in thinking that change of air and scene would have done him good. This, however, she refrained from saying — now that she was his hostess it was less easy to say such things — and he himself had an unreasoning dread of leaving the Priory. He was still haunted by the fear that something would happen to prevent his marriage. He often thought that old Coppard harboured distrustful surmises about him; he felt as it he would not be safe if his back was turned. Hence it came to pass that when Cicely once more ad- mitted him to frequent and intimate intercourse she was astonished and not best pleased at his fits of petulance, while he tortured himself with doubts as to whether she was not becoming tired of him. One day Mr. Lowndes said to him : — ♦' In my opinion, Archie, the sooner you are married the better. You needn't have a gay wedding ; let it be as quiet and private as Cicely pleases; but get her to fix a date. You will both be much happier when you are man and wife." He acted upon this not very judicious advice, thereby earning an indignant rebuke for himself. Cicely would not hear of anything in the shape of a festivity taking place for another year at least, and said he must be well aware that her marriage could not and would not be al- lowed to be solemnised without festivities. " I don't think you understand how you hurt me when you make such suggestions," she said. " I don't want to make any suggestions that are dis- agreeable to you," answered Archie. " Of course it is for you to decide how much longer our engagement shall last." But he did not offer the apology which he certainly would have offered a few weeks earlier, and his tone was ttlmost sulky. Well it was for him that he had to deal «( 20d MISADVENTURE. with a character which, being stronger than his own, had much of the magnanimity which belongs to conscious health. Cicely was willing to pardon him a great deal and to overlook little manifestations of temper ; neverthe- less, he inevitably fell somewhat in her esteem — which Miss Skipwith and Madame Souravieff would have con- sidered a hopeful sign. The latter lady, although she had the etiquette of every European nation at her fingers' ends and never mfringed established rules through ignorance, sometimes thought fit to do so intentionally, and her audacity was generally smiled upon by Fortune, which is said to favour the audacious. To drive up to the Priory and insist upon admittance, notwithstanding the shocked surprise of the butler and his assurance that Miss Bligh received no visi- tors, was, it must be acknowledged, a tolerably bold thing to do ; but she had carried through more difficult enter- prises than that in her time and had no fear of the conse- quences. *• You must not blame your servants," she said, when she had been shown into the room where Cicely was sit- ting alone ; ** they told me that you would not see me, so I forced my way into the house in spite of them It was bad taste, if you will, but when one is brought face to face with one of the dreadful realities of life, one forgets all pretty conventionalities — at least I do." She was holding the girl by both hands and looking kindly and compassionately into her eyes. " I have been thinking so much of you since I heard of your sad misfortune," she went on, " and I have longed to come and tell you how well I know what you must be feeling. At last I said to myself, * Well, at the worst, she can but turn me out,' and I came. Poor child ! I have been through it all — my case was just like yours. My mother died when I was a baby, and my father was everything to me. Then he was taken from me — and I married Monsieur Souravieff." There were genuine tears upon Madame Souravieff's eyelashes as she told this concise and pathetic tale. It was really almost true, and she had such a faculty for throwing herself into any part which she might be playing that the memory of her girlhood quite affected her for the moment. Cicely also was touched, and did not resist the lUSADVEMTUlUk 209 further advances of this sympathetic fellow-sufferer, who sat down on a sofa beside her, still holding her hands, while she talked in a low, pleasantly-modulated voice about the tie which sometimes exists between a father and daughter, and which, as she said, sometimes, but far more rarely, also unites a husband and wife. Then she went on to dwell upon the many things that she had heard in praise of Mr. Bligh — his kindness of heart, his charity, his cheerful endurance of sufferin^f ; and she was careful not to breathe a word about conscation. All this was very skilful of her; for she made Cr-ely cry and reached the ffirl's heart, and was permitted to embrace her tenderlj*. The next step was somewhai less easy, for Cicely was by nature very loyal and not very communicative, but at length Madame Souravieff obtained an admission that Archie did not quite realise the nature or extent of his cousin's grief, and of this she took quick advantage. " Of course he doesn't 1" she cried. " How should he, poor young man ? He cannot think of anybody or any- thing but you ; and that is no fault of his. Men are always like that when they are in love. I wonder," she continued meditatively, " whether it would be at all a re- lief to you if Mr. Chetwode and I were to take him off your hands sometimes and try to divert him." Cicely jumped at this rather hazardous proposition with suspicious alacrity. " It would be most kind of you if you would," she answered. *♦ He doesn't complain, but I can see that he finds this monotonous existence depressing, and of course it must be bad for him !" •• That," thought Madame Souravieff to herself, " is conclusive ; she not only does not care for her soldier, but she is heartily sick of him. I expected as much." Aloud she said : " Well, then, I will do what I can. I am living quite alone, as you know, and I should like to ask you to come and see me sometimes ; but I won't do that, because I am sure that you would rather be left to yourself. Per- haps your cousin would dine with me one evening, though, and I would get Mr. Chetwode to meet him." And as at this moment Archie himself entered the room, she struck while the iron was hot. She offered no explanation of her presence, which evidently surprised ! ( ». • « II r ''I ij H •i I i 210 MISADVENTURE. him, but, after having shaken him by the hand, said cheer- fully : " I was just asking Miss BliTh whether she thought you could be persuaded to look in upon me at dinner- time any day this week. I have no inducements to hold out ; but if you would come and smoke a cigar with Mr. Chetwode you would do an act of charity both to him and to me. Mr. Chetwode dines with me every now and then, because he thinks it his duty to do so ; but our stock of conversational subjects has run very low and we are sadly in need of a third person to provide us with fresh ones." " Oh -thank you," said Archie, glancing doubtfully at Cicely ; but as he received a smile and a slight gesture of encouragement in return, he went on to say that he would like very much to accept Madame Souravieff's invi- tation. •* Then let us make it Thursday," returned that lady briskly, and immediately afterwards rose to take her leave, kissing Cicely once more on both cheeks before she re- tired. When the door had closed behind her Archie looked notes of interrogation of the largest size. •* She came to tell me that she was sorry for me," Cicely said explanatorily. ** She was really very kind. It wasn't the sort of thing that an Englishwoman would have done, but it was done so simply and nicely that one couldn't feel anything except grateful to her." Archie looked a little puzzled ; for it appeared to him that Madame SouraviefF had taken a liberty which he could have sworn that Cicely would resent. ♦' And about my dining there," he asked — *• is that all right ? " " Perfectly right. I don't want you to think that you must shut yourself up because I do ; on the contrary, I wish you to see people. I shouldn't like you to go to a dinner party, and I know you wouldn't go ; but smoking a cigar with Mr. Chetwode is quite another thing. I won- der whether Madame Soufavieff herself smokes, as they say that so many Russian ladies do. I hope she doesn't." As a matter of fact, Madame Souravieff did some- times smoke cigarettes ; but she denied herself that in- dulgence on the fol!o^ving Thursday evening, because, be- ■^\ MISADVENTURE. 211 ing pretty well versed in the principles of diplomacy, she was always very careful to avoid tramping iij)on the pre- judices of anyone with whom she might wish to ingratiate herself. Now she had reasons of her own for wishing to ingratiate herself with Archie, and it was easy to perceive that he belonged to that class of honest Britons who look with dislike and distrust upon all foreign habits. At any rate, he neither disliked nor distrusted Madame Souravieff, who treated him to an admirable dinner and a most amusing description of her season in London; Mark took little or no part in the conversation, to which indeed he scarcely listened, until Miss Bligh's name was intro- duced, when he pricked up his ears. Madame Souravieflf was speaking with affectionate warmth of Cicely's charms of person and manner, and Archie was looking pleased and a lit*' embarrassed. After a time, the latter, who differed fru i his cousin in that he was not of a reticent tem- perament, and was therefore far more manageable than she, was led on to mention his perplexities and the uncer- tainty which he felt as to what he ought to do. ♦' Well, it is a little awkward," said he, in answer to some observation of Madame Souravieff's ; " old Mis . bkipwith was hmting as much to me this morning, and 1 couldn't contradict her. Mr. Lowndes thinks, and so do I, that there is no reason why we should not be married quietly in the autumn ; but Cicely has an idea that it would be disrespectful to her father's memory to have the • wedding within a year of his death ; so there it is. I'm sure I don't know whether it would be the right thing for me to stay a whole year at the Priory as her guest or not." '♦ I think, if I were you, I should leave that question open for the present," answered Madame Souravieff, after apparently giving it due consideration. " I should say nothing about it for a few months. When she has recovered from the first shock of her loss she will very likely look at things in a different way." The subject was not pursued farther at that time, because Madame Souravieff now professed a great anxiety to hear the game of polo described ; but later in the even- ing Archie reverted to it. »' I'm glad you think 1 may stay on wh^re I am^" Uq !S\' 1 ki 1. 'i 212 MISADVENTURE. observed musingly " After all, I have never had any home but the Priory ; it isn't as if my being engaged to Cicely were the only reason for my living there. And then I think I may be of use to her in managing things — if she'll let me." " I should remain on that account, if on no other," Madame Souravijff replied. " It stands to reason that the management of the property must be given over to you eventually, and if I were Miss Bligh I should be only too thankful to let you take it at once." Archie smiled. '• It isn't Cicely's way, to resign her -functions to an adjutant," he remarked. '• Oh, she is young ; she has still many things to learn. Amongst others, that no husband who is worth anything will consent to act as a mere adjutant. But I must not venture to criticise her or I shall make you angry." It is quite possible that such a criticism might have angered Archie a short time before ; but it had not that eflfect upon him now. On the contrary, he thought it fair enough ; although he had made up his mind that if his future wife should decide to exercise undivided authority, no protest should be entered by him. He was much pleased with the Russian lady, whose iia.nk friendliness and quick comprehensicn of his feelings supplied what he had felt to be a want in his life. Chetwode, too, was not such a bad fellow in his way. During the half-hour which he had spent with Chetwode in the dining-room after din* ner he had found him agreeable and full of information on all sorts of subjects, which had been rather hinted at than displayed. An awfully clever fellow — there was no doubt about that — yet not bumptious, as clever fellows so often are. Sad to say, this favourable judgment was not recipro- cated by its subject. After accompanying Madame Soura- viefF's guest to the door and taking a cordial leave of him, Mark returned to the drawing-room with the ejaculation of— " What a booby I " •' So much the better for you," observed Madame Souravieff composedly. " Not necessarily ; a booby generally makes a good ame rood MISADVENTURE. 213 husband. If I may be permitted to ask — why did not you recommend him to leave the neighbourhood when he gave you such a fine opening ? " *' "V ou may be permitted to ask anything, but you ought t-^ be ashamed of requiring an answer to such a question. . Do you wish the girl to be cured of her weariness of him ? Do you wish the collision which must occur when the ques- tion of who shall be master arises to be postponed until it is no longer a matter of interest to you ? I will not call you a booby, my dear Mark, but I will take the liberty of saying that you would make a terrible mess of this affair if I were not at your elbow." " Very probably I should ; and even now — the truth is — pardon me — that it is a somewhat dirty affair." He was thinking rather of his share in it than of hers when he said so ; for he could not forget that he proposed to deceive one person more than she did ; but she natur- ally accepted the stricture as aimed at herself alone, and htr temper, which was of the Slavonic variety, blazed up suddenly. " You go too far ! " she exclaimed. " You insult me ! Another such speech and I renounce you. I wash my hands of you — yes, forever ! " " It is what I have often advised you to do,' observed Mark composedly. She broke into a flood of passionate, incoherent re- proaches, referring to many bygone causes of quarrel and making use of terms which were not always choice. It was not often that she lost her head in that way ; but such fits overcame her from time to time and were (as Count Souravieff was wont to assure her) singularly unbe- commg to her. There are people who look imposing when they are enraged ; but she was not one of them, nor could she scold without raising her voice to a scream. Mark waited patiently until the storm had spent itself. It does an angry woman no good to interrupt her while her breath holds out. But as soon as he could obtain a hearing he said : — ♦* I have no doubt that all your accusations are fully justified, Olga ; I will admit, it you like, that I have every defect in the world except inconstancy. And I suppose I ought not to make an exception of that ; because with your present views you woiU4 probably cons\(|er it a merit." I ilf iii u mm It 214 MISADVENTURE. This was his trump card. He played it, perhaps, a little too often, but it never failed to score. The result of its production on the present occasion was that he was forgiven and begged to forgive, and that he left the house with an inclination to laugh, tempered by a strong sense of humiliation. Madame Souraviefi's emotions were of a less complex nature. There was a good deal more of triumph than of shame in the face which she contemplated intently in a hand-mirror that she caught up from the table after Mark had left her, " I made a fool of myself," said she to her reflection ; " but I don't care, he loves me still 1 Ah, Miss Bligh, you are younger than I am and prettier than I ever was ; but I am not afraid of you ! " CHAPTER XXVn. BOBBY S GLOllY. A PROUD and happy man was Sir George Dare when he unfolded his Times one morning and found therein an account of the spirited capture of an armed slave-dhow off the Zanzibar coast by a boat's crew belonging to H. M. S. Cygnet, under the command of Lieutenant Dare. The gallantry and determination displayed by that young offi- cer were highly commended; for the dhow, it appeared, had offered a stubborn resistance, and her captors had been largely outnumbered. It was added that this was not the first occasion on which Lieutenant Dare had dis- tinguished himself in a similar manner. Moreover, it chanced by great good luck that the Times — being per- haps a little short of subjects — devoted a leading article that day to the suppression of the slave trade, in the course of which Bobby's name was mentioned more than once with a kindly appreciation of his deserts. " Hah ! " ejaculated Sir George, beaming round the breakfast table ; " that's the way to do it ! I don't know whether you've noticed, any of you, that there have been ^ good many more attack:, upon dhows than captures of laSADVBNTUfifi 215 late. What they want out there is a fellow who knows how to hang on — and, by George, they've got him I There always was a bit of the bulldog about that boy." This triumphant crow elicited the response which was expected from the ladies of the family, led by the strong- minded Miss Jane ; after which Lady Dare's voice was heard inquiring tremulously whether Bobby had emerged from the fray unhurt. " Oh, a few scratches," answered her husband care- lessly. " ' We have to deplore the death of two blue jackets, and Lieutenant Dare himself received slight wounds on the arm and leg. These, however, were not sufficiently serious to prevent him from leading on his men.' I should think not ! He'd have led 'em on without an arm or a leg, if it had come to that." This heroic view of the matter did not satisfy Lady Dare, who was only comforted on receiving the further assurance that her son was making rapid progress towards recovery. *• I can't see why we should go about the world inter- fering with people," she sighed. " Of course one is sorry for the unfortunate slaves ; still it is the custom of the country, and we can't put down objectionable customs everywhere." *' We must do it where we can, my dear," rejoined Sir George ; " otherwise our poor chaps would never get a chance of promotion. Talking of objectionable customs, didn't you say you wanted me to pay some visits with you this afternoon ? " It was not often that Sir George could be persuaded to pay his respects to his neighbours in person, but now he was in so excellent a humour that he could refuse nobody anything ; so in the course of the afternoon he was driven to various houses and was quite sorry to find none of their inmates at home, because he would have liked just to ask them casually whether they had seen the Times of that day. The last name upon Lady Dare's list was that of Madame SouraviefF, upon whom she had decided to call after several weeks of hesitation ; but on hearing whither she was bound, Sir George expressed his intention of de- serting her. " Upton Chetwode, eh ? Ofi, well, you won't want me ^ hi < ' I j' \ i- : I r «< 216 MISADVENTURE. there — no man in the house, you know. I'll tell you what ; I'll just take a short cut across the fields and go and say how-do-you-do to poor little Cicely Bligh. You can come and pick me up when you've had enough of the Russian countess." •' For goodness' sake, George, don't leave me to face that woman alone ! " protested Lady Dare. " From what Mrs. Lowndes tells me, I don't feel sure about her, and it is so much easier to avoid being drawn into intimacy when you are two against one." But Sir George was already out of the carriage and trotting off with great alacrity ; so she was obliged to tell the coachman to drive on. This was not the first time Sir George had been at the Priory since his old friend's death, and he flattered him- self, not altogether without reason, that he had been in- strumental in cheering Cicely up. Sir George had a high, cackling laugh, which was irresistibly infectious ; so that it was not possible for Cicely or anybody else to talk to him long withoat showing at least outward signs of merri- ment. Perhaps, however, it was not solely a benevolent wish to divert the poor girl's mind from melancholy brood- ing that prompted his present visit. Sympathy is required and desired in times of joy as well as in times of sorrow, and turn about is fair play. Moreover (but this Sir George probably did not say to himself), there is a certain satis- faction in being able to show unappreciative persons what they have lost through their lack of appreciation. When he was still some distance from the house he overtook Cicely herself, who was walking slowly home- ward from the village ; and this he was glad of, because he did not want to be bothered with Miss Skipwith. " How do you do, my dear?" said he, hurrying up to join her. " All well at home ? That's right. No news, I suppose ? •'None that I know of," answered Cicely; "but I am not much in the way of hearing news. If there is any, you are more likely to have heard it than I." " No, I can't say that I have heard anything par- ticular. Nothing local, at least. We're off to Wiesbaden soon ; but there is nothing new about that. The doctor tells me it will have to be an annual business now if I V MISADVENTURE. 217 fit of gout, morning, did want to get through the winter without a Didn't happen to look at the Times this you ?" " I'm afraid I only looked at the first column of the advertisement sheet ; I have had such a number of things to do all day. Did it contain any startling intelligence ?" " Oh dear, no ; nothing startling. It was interesting to me because it gave an account of the capture of a slave-dhow in which my boy Bob was concerned. A mere brush of course ; though there seems to have been some sharpish fighting while it lasted." •• Bobby would enjoy that," observed Cicely smiling, **I hope he distinguished himself." " Well, yes ; the Times says so. Good honest paper, the Times, in that way, I always think. Ready to give a man credit when he does his duty, I mean. Bob was in command ; so that he gets all the glory such as it is. There's a leading article about it," concluded Sir George, modestly lowering his eyes, while the corners of his mouth turned up towards his ears, in spite of all his efforts to restrain them. '* Oh, I am so glad ! exclaimed Cicely, her eyes sparkling. '* I always knew that Bobby would do some- thing splendid if only he could get the opportunity. I must get the paper and read about it at once." And she quickened her pace involuntarily. " I am not sure." said Sir George, fumbling in his coat- tail pockets — " possibly I may — ah, yes, I thought so. I happen to have a copy with me. I've been paying a round of visits with Lady Dare, and I thought Lowndes or somebody might like to see what they say. Here it is, if you care to look at." Cicely perused the sheet handed to her, while she did so there came a quick flush into her cheeks which Sir George, who was stepping along beside her with his hands behind his back and a fine affectation of indifference, saw very well out of the corner of his eye. There couid be no doubt that Bobby had behaved very pluckily ; and although the leading article was not precisely about him, it gave his name several times in capital letters for all the world to see, while full justice was incidentally rendered to his bravery. I ! \' 1 • J- t' J \ I jt ! f' * I ;■ * f ,.^i Ui 1 218 MISADVENTURE. " Oh ? — and he has been wounded too, poor fellow !" exclamed Cicely, drawing in her breath. " Ah, I thought you would notice that little detail ; his mother was almost crying about it. Bless your soul ! men don't mind wounds — at all events men like Bob don't. Why I remember that fellow, when he wasn't more than twelve years old, getting bitten clean through the hand by a brute of a retriever ; and if you'll believe me the young beggar only laughed. Burst out laughing — he did upon my word !" Ho, ho, ho !" And off went the old gentleman into one of his own uncontrollable out- bursts of mirth, which usually came upon him without much ostensible cause. Now when Sir George was overtaken in this way you had only to look him in the face in order to send him into positive convulsions ; and, as, of course, he returned the look, his neighbour could hardly fail to be seized by the contagion. Thus it not unfrequently happened that even upon the Bench of Magistrates two Justices of the Peace were seen rolling about helplessly and holding their sides, to the bewilderment of lookers-on who could not imagine what the joke was. When Sir George and Cicely had laughed until they couldn't laugh any longer, and were feebly wiping their eyes the former said : — " Ah well ! I shall tell Bob that you've read about his little battle. He will be glad to hear that." But this reminded Sir George that another piece of in- telligence, which Bobby certainly would not be glad to receive, had already been despatched to the coast of Africa, and the recollection had a sobering effect upon him. By a natural association of ideas he asked presently: "Where's Archie?" ** I think he said he was going to walk over to Upton Chetwode," Cicely replied. " Oh, indeed ! He's a good deal at Upton Chetwode nowadays, isn't he ! At least so I hear." •• '^ is ; I am glad to say that he has made great friends 77 .V .. ■ tame SouraviefF and Mr. Chetwode. I feel very \ fd.-Si-. .o them both ; for he was looking wretchedly d "vc?; !• a mouth — and no wonder — before they took him u^," MlsADvfi^fttrllfi. 219 Sir George snorted. He was not fond of ffossip ; but lie could not help hearing it, and of late it had been whispered pretty loudly that the Russian siren, whose name had naturally been connected at first with Mark ChetwodC; was growing weary of that alleged admirer and was not unwilling to substitute Archie Bligh for him. Under the circumstances, would it not be the part of a friend (and a very disinterested friend, too, for that matter) to breathe a word of warning ? So he said : — " Well, I really don't see what reason he has to look down in the mouth ; it's early days for him to find that your company isn't good enough for him, my dear, Be- tween you and me, I wouldn't let him have too long a tether. No offence, you know ; but young men are apt to be mercurial, and they tell me that this Countess Soura- viefFis a remarkably fascinating lady." Cicely did not look pleased. " Madame Souravieff has been very kind to me," she answered. *' I quite agree that she is fascinating. But if I didn't feel sure of Archie I certainly shouldn't attempt to tighten my hold upon him." '• Well, well 1 I daresay you're right," said Sir George a little confusedly. " By the time that one gets to my age one has seen such a lot of trouble brought about by women that one is too ready to look out for it, perhaps. Isn't that my old barouche coming up the drive ? Lady Dare said she would come for me. She has just been paying a first call upon your friend, the Russian, so she'll be able to tell us all about the lady's fascinations." These, however, had not perhaps been exercised Upon Lady Dare, who, when interrogated, would only say that Madame Souravieff dressed beautifully. ** I don't think I much admire those magnificent tea- gowns myself," she added. " In a large house, full of people, they may be all very well, but when one is living quite alone and doesn't expect to receive any visitors, except a single young man — " " Yes ? What then ? " inquired Cicely blandly ; for she had caught Sir George in the act of making a face at his wife, and it seemed desirable to show that she had no objection in the world to Archie's intimacy witli her neighbour. I ■ ' Hi 220 MISADVENTURE. ♦' Oh, nothing," answered Lady Dare hastily. " I don't think I should do it myself, that's all. But no doubt their customs are different in St. Petersburg. Indeed, now 1 come to think of it, I believe I have heard that men pay afternoon calls in evening dress there — which shows that we can't judge Russians by our standards. Now, George, we really ought to be going ; I had no idea it was so late." Lady Dare spoke with more freedom as soon as she was out of Cicely's hearing. ♦' I am very glad that we are going away so soon," said she ; " I certainly shouldn't like the girls to see much o1 that woman. It may be all right, but she and young Bligh went on together in a way which I must say sur- prised me. One would have supposed that they had been acquainted all their lives." " I'm sure I've no objection, since Cicely appears to have none," observed Sir George. " If that young fellow prefers flirting with a married woman to staying at home with the girl to whom he is engaged — why, we know some- body else who has better taste. She was very much interested in hearing about Bob's success. Got quite ex- cited over it, in fact." Lady Dare said it was very wrong to talk in that light way about a serious matter. For her part, she would be greatly distressed if anything should occur to bring about a breach between the cousins. " And I do hope, George, that you will not be so impru- dent as to hint at the possibility of such a thing. You know how censorious people are, and how certain they would be to accuse us of wishing to make a fine match for Bobby." Nevertheless, a smile hovered about her lips during the remainder of the drive, and if she amused herself by building certain castles in the air, there was no great harm in that. What would life be worth to any of us if we were debarred from sometimes dreaming of delightful im- probabilities ? MISADVENTURE. 221 CHAPTER XXVIII. CLUMSINESS AND SKILL. In some far-away future time, when those who believe in the perfectibiHty of the human race shall be able to point to some rather more convincing grounds for the faith that is in them than they can show as yet, it is possible that men and women may cease to judge by appearances, which, as we all know, are quite as often misleading as not. With our present imperfect comprehension of one another, however, there does not seem to be very much else to judge by ; and if a young man will persist in pre- senting himself five or six times a week at the house of a ladj^ who is living all by herself, he must not complain of the usual deductions being drawn from his behaviour. The usual deductions were drawn in Archie Bligh's case, and a very general shaking of heads ensued. Among the heads which were shaken most frequently and most vehemently was that of Mrs. Lowndes, who said to her husband : — *♦ I call it nothing short of a scandal, Robert. Now I know what you are going to say ; you are going to accuse me of want of charity, as you always do. Though what true charity there can be in deliberately shutting one's eyes to wrong-doing I will leave you to explain in your next sermon — if you can." " I could very easily explain, Amelia, that it is unchar- itable to keep one's eyes steadily fixed upon those who are supposed to be doing wrong, but it wouldn't be worth while to preach a sermon upon that theme, because, as you have so often told me, my sermons fail to awaken your conscience. In this instance I suspect that the usual clearness of your vision is 'ibscured by prejudice against Madame Souravieff, who doesn't seem to care much about talking to yc." '• How strange it is, Robert, that anxious though you are to find fault with me, you invariably pitch upon fault?; of which nobody else would ever dream of accusing me ! I \^U 'V i '1 fc, 1 ■ 'Hi ■ isim •1. h i' H m MISADVENTURE. Whatever I may be, I am not easily prejudiced, and I can assure you that I never wished or expected Madame Sou- ravieff to enjoy talking to me. She evidently does not enjoy talking to any one of her own sex. A man she will always think it worth her while to make a fool of — even though he may be quite an old man and she may be obliged to affect a knowledge of theology before she can do it." " Meaning me ? " inquired the Rector, quite good- humouredly. ♦' I mean just what I say ; she knows that no man can hold out against a little flattery. I can't help being rather sorry for that unfortunate young Bligh, in spite of his silliness ; and yet, when I think of poor Cicely I long to box his ears 1 " Mr. Lowndes said : " Cicely would hardly thank you for your interference, my dear. She is remarkably well able to manage her own affairs, and you may depend upon it that she knows a good deal more about Madame Souravieff and Archie than you do. You surely are not so simple as to suppose that he can go anywhere without telling her where he is going ? " Nevertheless, the Rector was not quite so free from uneasiness as he pretended to be. His wife was by no means the only person who had spoken to him upon a subject which was attracting general attention, and al- though he would not allow himself to doubt Archie's loyalty, he could not help a silent admission that it looked very much as though Madame Souravieff were trying to make a conquest of the young fellow. This surmise was not altogether wide of the mark ; for Madame Souravieff had in truth thought at first that some- thing might be done in that direction. She had, however, speedily perceived that such an attempt would be a waste of time, and had contented herself with establishing a gradual ascendency over her victim, in her private rela- tions with whom she was pleased to assume the partpf an elderly but sincerely sympathetic friend. And tihe matter as to which she felt (and said) that he was more especially deserving of commiseration was that of his very trying position with regard to his future wife. With great deli- cacy and infinite precaution, she brought him to see that MISADVENTURE. 223 it was his duty to assert himself. " Authority," his uncle had once said to him, " ought to belong to the husband." He repeated this observation to Madame Souravieff ; and although her own manner of life had hardly been ordered in consonance with that theory, she at once declared her- self a supporter of it. " But that is elementary I" she exclaimed ; "everybody knows that no other system is practicable." It may very well be that such is the case and that Mr. Bligh had been quite right in the conviction which he had expressed. But then he had omitted to give effect to his conviction ; and the consequence of that omission seemed not unlikely to prove serious. It was, as Madame Soura- vieff had foreseen, a mere question of time; and the un- avoidable crisis was precipitated by an incident which answered the purpose as well as another. The partial management of the property which Archie had assumed before his uncle died had not been taken out of his hands, and although Cicely now held the reins, the agent, the land-steward and others had not ceased to seek interviews with him when they had reports or requests to make. It was to Archie, therefore, that the agent came one morn- ing with an inquiry as to what was to be done about that troublesome fellow Coppard. Coppard, it appeared, had paid no rent for a very long time past. He had always begged for an extension of time, and by the late Mr. Bligh's directions, that extension had always been granted to him ; but really, said the agent, limits must be fixed somewhere. His own opinion was that if the man couldn't or wouldn't pay, he ought to be turned out. The village would be well rid of him anyhow ; for he was con- stantly leading other men into mischief. Archie may perhaps have felt that it would be a relief to him personally if circumstances should lead to the re- moval of Mr. Coppard from Abbotsport ; but he was not conscious of any unworthy motive when he spoke to Cicely upon the subject and advised her in the sense ad- vocated by the agent. " Of course one would rather not turn people out of doors," he said ; " but in this case there really seems to be no alternative." " I will see Coppard," answered Cicely, after consider- ■■hi \ 1 f 'i I t ■ v.. 224 MISADVKNTURE. ing for a moment. ♦• If he can pay anythinpf, well and ^'ood ; if not, it must stand over." There was an authoritative decision in her tone which provoked Archie. '• You can do as you please," said he ; " but I warn you that you won't be able to go on like that. It's one thing to show reasonable consideration for your tenants and quite another to let them live in your cottages rent-free. What you do for one you'll have to do for all — and then you'll find yourself in a pretty mess." " I believe most of the tenants pay punctually," an- swered Cicely. " There are a few who are very poor and who look to a big catch of fish to bring them in what little money they earn My father never was hard upon them, nor shall I be." *' I am not suggesting that you should be hard upon anybody who tries to gain an honest livelihood," returned Archie ; " but Coppard doesn't The fact is that he is a poaching, thieving, drunken vagabond." Now Cicely had a hking for Coppard and she had a very strong constitutional dislike to dictation. Therefore she rejoined, with a slight laugh : — •♦ Oh, I know he isn't a friend of yours ; you have never forgiven him for accusing you of sea-sickness that after- noon when we so nearly went to pieces on the bar." " I didn't remember his having accused me of anything of the kind," replied Archie — which, indeed, was true. '* My only reason for wantin^^ to turn the man out was that I see what a bad precedent you will create if you don't. One must have rules and stick to them if one is to manage an estate upon any workable principle." " I must do what seems to be right," returned Cicely, colouring a little. " I have the responsibility, and I can only use my own judgment." ** Ah, yes ; there it is I " observed the young man with a shrug of his shoulders. •' I suppose you mean that my judgment is a poor thing to trust to." *' No ; only that I wish you didn't insist upon taking the whole responsibility. It isn't necessary, you know." ** I can't give it up or — or share it with anybody," answered Cicely, in a voice which sounded none the less MISADVENTURE. 21 uncompromising because it trembled a little. '♦ My father left it to me." *• Yes , but when he left it ' ^ you he didn't forget that you wore engaged to bw married I doubt whether it was his mtention that your husband should be a mere cypher." For an instant Cicely looked as though she were going to make some angry i( lort ; but she only bit her lips and reverted to the original subject of dispute. " At all events," she said, *• I won't have the Cop- pards disturbed." If Archie had been a sensible man he would have said no more ; but he was not a very sensible man, and he had listened to perfidious counsels, and he thought that he would be acting foolishly if he abandoned the struggle. •• I don't dispute your right to refuse me any control over your own affairs,' was the next observation which he judged it advisable to make, *• but it does seem to me that you make a mistake in insisting so strongly upon your rights. Other people think so too, as I happen to know." *' Oil — other people ! " returned Cicely, pricking up her ears. *' What other people, for instance ? " •♦ Well, Madame Souravieff for one. No one can ad- mire you more than she does ; so that she certainly isn't an unfriendly critic. But of course she has seen a lot of the world and had a great deal of experience of one kind and another, and " ♦• And notwithstanding all these advantages," inter- rupted Cicely, " she hasn't so much as learnt that it is rather bad taste to make criticisms upon me before you. I don't complain of her criticisms — they may be fair, and it matters very little to me whether they are or not — but I do complain of you allowing her to make me the subject of any discussion with you. I don't think that is loyal ; and it almost makes me believe " She stopped herself just in time to avoid saying some- thing which would have justified Archie in responding by a til quoque. It was a pity that she did not go on ; for had she done so, a clearance of the atmosphere would have been the probable result. As it was, Archie only saw that she was determined to have her own way and would tolerate no approach to opposition. He said, with an aggrieved air : — I M f il &i ' f ill t'l ■imW * ' ■- » r; I' ^6'ni m 226 MISADVENTURE. f l^ ♦' I always thought you wanted me to make a friend of Madame Souravieff. It wasn't very unnatural that I ; hould talk to her about you and I had no idea that you would object to it. As for her criticisms, they were inno- cent enough. Well, we had better drop the subject, I suppose. I'll try to interfere as little as possible for the future." Cicely left him without making any overtures for peace. She did not at all like his tone, and in spite of his dis- claimer she still thought he had been very much to blame in talking her over with another woman. The poor fellow held indeed committed every blunder that it was possible to commit. He had challenged a naturally combative temperament, he had allowed it to be seen that he was acting under outside influences, and from first to last he had been petulant instead of conciliatory. Women may frequently be coaxed and almost always coerced, but to attempt to deal with them in a meek and coniplaining spirit is to woo disaster. Consequently, Cicely marched out of the house, shortly afterwards, with head erect and not an atom of repentance or compunction in heart. " He is not my husband yet," she was thmking " When he is I shall of course obey him, unless he orders me to do something positively infamous, such as turning an unfortunate family out of house and home ; but for the present he has no business to tell me what I ought to do — and certainly Madame Souravieff has none. I have always doubted whether I really liked that woman, and now I am sure that I don't. She is very pleasant while one is talking to her, but when one comes to think her over afterwards one gets an impression of insincerity somehow." That was an impression which a great many people had formed of Madame Souravieff, and which was pro- bably 'ue to the circumstance that she had no sort of regaid lor literal truth. Setting that idiosjmcrasy aside, she was in reality a somewhat unusually sincere person, being gifted with strong faith in several things and in a fair number of individuals, and always shaping her actions in harmony with her beliefs. She was a good deal rhore sincere, for example, than Mark Chetwode, who at that MISADVENTURE. 227 moment was pacing the narrow streets of Abbotsport with slow step and a preoccupied mien. It was not Mark's habit to frequent the Abbotsport streets, which were scarcely inviting to a pedestrian at the best of times, and were especially objectionable in sultry summer weather, but he was putting up with the rough pavement and bad smells now because it was Wednesday, and because he had discovered ihat ou Wednesday afternoons Cicely invariably visited the alms-house and the modest little hospital. Moreover, he had heard Madame Souraviefl invite Archie to look in about teatime. The patience with which he strolled up and down the main thoroughfare under the inquisitive eyes of the in- habitants was at length rewarded ; and if he was glad to see Miss Bligh, she was very nearly as glad to see him. " You are the very person," was her first remark, " whom I wanted to meet." *' Indeed ? " said Mark, with a shght air of surprise . " In that case I rejoice that chance should have brought me thic way. Although," he added, smilmg faintly, " I am afraid I must not flatter myself that it was for my own sake that you wanted to meet me." " Well, not altogether," confessed Cicely candidly. " There are a few questions which I should like to ask you ; but we can't talk comfortably here. Are you busy ? ' *' If I were I should only be too happy to neglect my business , but of course I am not. How could I be ? " " Shall we walk down to the beach, then ? " suggested Cicely. •* 1 know of a place where there is a shade at this time of day and where we are not likely to be inter- rupted." The speech was one of a kind to which Mark had never yet been able to accustom himself, despite his grow- mg familiarity with English ways. That such an invita- tion could be addressed by an unmarried woman to any man was to him so strange zs to be almost comical ; and his pleasure in accepting it was somewhat marred by the thought that it never could have been given in that matter- of-course, unembarrassed fashion if his sentiments had been even diml}'^ suspected. Still it was something to have been granted an excellent opportunity of making them known. When Cicely had conducted him to the .j^ >, j| ' 1 'fi ■'I h I '■•1 228 MISIDVENTUKK. sequestered cove of which she had spoken, and had seated herself upon a shelf of rock, motioning him to do likewise, he broke off in the middle of a humorous description of Mr. Simpkins' lodgings to say : — " And your questions, Miss Bligh — I am dying with curiosity to hear what they can be." •♦ Are you ? " she returned, laughing a little ; " you don't look as if you were. But then you never do look as if you felt a shadow of curiosity about anything." " My looks belie me," answered Mark gravely. •* I don't know that I am a very curious person, but I often feel a great deal of curiosity — about you." Cicely allowed this observation to pass, and said, with some abruptness : — " I want to hear a little more about Madame Soura- viefF. I think you understand her and I am not at all sure that I do. Why is she trying to make Archie dissatisfied ?" Mark flicked pebbles across the sand with his stick and remained silent for some seconds. At length he answered with apparent reluctance : — " Madame SouraviefF is an old friend of mine." Cicely coloured. She had not only received a very direct snub, but what was worse, she felt that she had earned it. •* I beg your pardon," said she ; " I ought to have remembered that. Of course you don't like to say any- thing against her " " Well, I would rather not," Mark confessed ; " still I might just as well tell the truth as hold my tongue. If I could have told you that she was not trying to make your cousin dissatisfied, I should have done so — naturally." Here he paused ; but as Cicely did not choose to commit herself to any further interrogatories, he resumed present- ly : — ** Madame SouraviefF has a defect which is not very uncommon, nor, I suppose, very inexcusable ; she likes admiration. I don't say that she would go any lengths to secure an admirer, but I think she would go a very long way. Then I believe she honestly imagines that you have as good reason to be dissatisfied as he has and that she is doing you a service by — by leading him away. For my own part," added Mark, " I confess that I blame him more than her." MISADVENTURE. 229 Cicely had not bargained for so outspoken a reply as that and was sorry that she had invited it. Having done so, however, she could not reasonably take offence ; so she merely observed : — " Perhaps your reading of the situation may not be altogether correct." " Perhapc net," he agreed. " I was going to say I hope it isn't ; but that would be scarcely honest. For your sake, I hope — forgive my candour — that it is." ♦' I don't know what you mean," Cicely declared, turn- ing a displeased pair of eyes upon him. *' Why do you say that ? " "Ah, Miss Bligh, I shall certainly ofifend you if I tell you." " I wish you to tell me." " Very well ; it is easily told, I know — although you would not admit it — that you do not love the man whom you have promised to marry. The rest signifies very little. He may be unworthy of you, he may be less disinterested than he appears to be at first, and Madame SouravieflF may be an unprincipled flirt. Or possibly none of these things may be so. What I am certain of is that you could never be happy as your cousin's wife, and that is why I hope I am right in my reading of a situation which at least I may claim to have studied closely. Now I have offended you, as I knew I should, and I had better say goodbye." He rose as he spoke, and Cicely followed his example. She had an odd feeling that she ought to be more affronted than she was. When Mark looked at her in a grave, interrogative way, she did not dismiss him, as he was apparently waiting for her to do, but only said : — " You are like everybody else in these parts ; you think that Archie is marrying me simply because I am rich. For what reason you think I am marrying him I don't know. But it doesn't much matter. Let us talk about something else." " By all means," answered Mark, with his customary half smile. " About the other questions which you had to ask me for instance ? " "No, I think not ; my curiosity is sufficiently satisfied for one day. You can go on giving me your impressions i i'i n I ■- ! mm m MlSADVlNTUfti:. of the population of Abbotsport ; that is a subject which interests me, without being too exciting." And while he walked back to the village with her, he (lid as 1^2 was requested, doing it amusingly enough. He iiad shot his bolt and was satisfied that he had hit the mark. If Madame Souravieff could have overheard what he had said that afternoon she would probably have pro- nounced him unskilful; but then she knew a great deal li! s about the peculiarities of Cicely's character than he •J id. CHAPTER XXIX. COUNT SOURAVIEFF S CORRESPONDENCE. During that summer there used to be seen, hobbling up u.iJ down the alleys at Wiesbaden, or sitting m the Cur- • ;ial Gardens while the band played in the afternoons and (;venings, a little old man with a clean-shaven face, the :kin of which was covered with as infinite a number of wrinkles as that of Rembrandt's mother would appear to liave been. He always wore a tall hat ; also a black frock coat, which hung loosely upon him, and in the buttonhole of which were sundry scraps of colored ribbon, whereby '.he initiated were made aware that he was the possessor of several highly-coveted decorations. This gentleman was known by dwellers at the hotel at which he had taken up his quarters to be Count Souravieff, and was reported to be fabulously wealthy. He was in truth a very rich man, though of course not so rich (because nobody ever is) as he was believed to be. He had also been in his day a somewhat distinguished one, having held offices of import- ance ; and he was now, owing to the worries brought upon him by an eccentric wife, together with the perpetual dis- comfort resulting from an unruly liver and chronic gout, a most thoroughly miserable one. Of this, indeed, he made no secret, and would confide his woes in a plaintive, querulous voice to all who could be persuaded to listen to them. " Ah, madame," he would say (for it was chiefly to MISADVENTURE. 231 ladies that he was wont to appeal for pity), " you see in me an unfortunate condcrnned to purgatory before his time 1 For my part, 1 do not believe in a future state of purgatory — you are aware, perhaps, that our Church has never accepted that dogma — and it is therefore the more hard that I should be compelled to admit its existence in this world without having done anything at all to deserve it." And then, with a very little encouragement he would proceed to relate what a terrible life he had had of it for years past with the Countess. '* I live in terror, madame — positively in constant terror. I do not know what fresh scandal I may not hear of any day — I who abhor scandal ! You will ask, perhaps, why I allow her to live apart from me ? Ah, madame, that is because you do not know Madame SouraviefF! She is a woman who has raised the power of exasperation to a fine art. At my age and in my state of health I am no longer able to endure what I could put up with when I was younger and stronger. Enfin ! — death comes at last to all, and one may hope that after death comes at least peace." Ladies very generally felt sorry for this forlorn and for- saken invahd ; but the sympathy of the small battalion of dependents with whom he travelled about was denied to him, because he was so cross and capricious. As, how- ever, he paid them very well, they remained in his service and hoped that in making his will he would remember how forbearing they had been with him. Victor, his valet, had gradually become his master — a lucrative post ; for it was not Madame Souravieff alone who found it advisable to replenish Victor's purse from time to time. The man, upon the whole, used his power for the general good and did not cheat those who bribed him, unless it seemed quite necessarj' for his own comfort and security that he should do so. For the general good it was almost always neces- sary to deceive Count Souravieff ; but that was really no fault of his. It would never have done, for example, to let the old gentleman know who Mr. Chetwode's tenant was ; and Victor had confined himself to the statement that Madame had taken a country house in a remote part of England for the summer months. As the Count did not correspond with his wife, and did not care where she might be so long as she was out of mischief, that assertion was accepted without further inquiry. . * M ,■ * k I! b\ 232 MISADVENTURE. But one meets all sorts of people at Wiesbaden, and in these days the well-to-do inhabitants of every county in England, remote or otherwise, are pretty sure to leave it at least once a year. There was, therefore, nothing extra- ordinary, although to some persons it may have been inconvenient, in the coincidence which brought Count SouraviefF upon speaking terms with Sir George Dare. Sir George, when abroad, made it a rule to speak to every- body who appeared approachable, and oven to some who did not. Amongst the latter might have been counted the peevish-looking little old man whom he noticed on two consecutive evenings sitting all alone in the garden in front of the hotel ; but that, perhaps, was all the more reason for trying to cheer the melancholy stranger up. On the third day, accordingly, Sir George, who had just lighted his after-dinner cigrr, plumped himself down upon an iron chair facing Count '-^ouravieflf and opened fire. *• How do ^i.e'^: .aters suit you, sir ? One don't seem to get much good out of 'em at first ; but I believe in the after effects. I find thn*- by coming here every summer I can keep prett> clct.i ot the gout for a twelvemonth. The great thing is to have faith." " I am full of faith," replied the Count gravely. " I have tried very nearly all the waters in Europe now, and grow steadily worse. Yet I go on trying. It is impossible to be more faithful." "Grow worse?— do you really?" said Sir George, much interested. " Where does it catch you, now ? With me it isn't so much in the feet or hands ; that I shouldn't mind ; let's have a good sharp fit, and have done with it. But the nuisance is that sort of all-overishness that one gets ever so long before matters come to a climax. I al- ways tell my doctor that I really can't see the use of him unless he can stop what he calls symptoms. Why the symptoms are worse than the disease — what ? " Symptoms have at least one small advantage, which is that they afford an agreeable subject for discussion ; and especially so when you are able to discuss them with one who has experienced them all, only in a more aggra- vated form. On the other hand, if you are the greater sufferer of the two, that gives you a greater prestige ; and so it was that these two patients formed a high opinion of "I and isible MISADVENTURE. 233 each other's intelligence and conversational capacities. The Count, who spoke excellent English, related in detail and with deep feeling the results of the various cures to which he had been persuaded to give a trial, while Sir George, listening open-mouthed, thanked his stars that, however bad he might be, he wasn't so bad as all that. Presently, at the latter's suggestion, they strolled as far as the Cursaal Gardens, where the band was playing ; and then Sir George judged that the proper time had come for him to reveal his identity. He accordingly fumbled in his pocket and produced a visiting-card, which he handed to the Russian, who could do no less than return this act of courtesy. " God bless me ! " exclaimed Sir George, after holding up to the light the rather large and highly glazed bit of pasteboard which bore Count Souravieff's name ; " what a very odd thing ! I think it must be your wife who has recently become a neighbour of ours — a temporary neigh- bour, that is. She has taken Upton Chetwode, a place near us, for a few months." •* The lady of whom you speak is no doubt my wife," replied the Count, drawing down the corners of his mouth. " Since you are acquainted with her, it is needless to tell you that my wife occupies herself a great deal with poli- tics, and that her political crusades are continually getting me, as well as herself, into trouble. Only the other day I was obliged to insist upon her leaving London, where she had made herself so conspicuous as to bring down upon me a very sharp rebuke from our Foreign Office." Sir George pursed up his lips and nodded. " Oh," said he, " that was the reason she buried her- self for the summer in our quite part of the world, then ? To tell you the truth, we were puzzled to imagine what her reason could be." " Madame Souravieff," answered that lady's husband bravely, " has usually more than one reason for her ac- tions, but not all of them are as good as that which I have mentioned. May I ask you to tell me once more the name of the house in which she is living ? " " Upton Chetwode. I think you know Mark Chetwode, the owner. At any rate he is a great friendof the Countess's, and he has established himself in lodgings in the village during her tenancy, in order, I suppose, to be near her," ill i ! i4^ T » ' kI/* t' 234 MISADVENTURE. II .1/ Sir George knew that this was a rather risky thing to say ; but he could not resist saying it, and watching the effect upon his companion, who indeed pulled a wry face and muttered something inaudible. But before anything more could be said on either side Lady Dare and her daughters appeared upon the scene, and an introduction followed which presently turnished the Count with an auditor of the sex which he preferred. The Dares had a good many friends in Wiesbaden, some of whom soon joined the young ladies, while Sir George was buttonholed by a Conservative M.P., who had paired for the remainder of the session and had a great deal to say about the ob- structive tactics of the Opposition. Thus Count Soura- vieff was left to v/alk with Lady Dare up and down the broad gravelled expanse in front of the Cursaal, which was thronged by a thousand or so of other Curgdste, and he lost no time in telling her of his conjugal troubles, to which she lent a willing and compassionate ear. " It is very distressing for you, and very wrong of her," Lady Dare said, when he had concluded his recital ; " still I doubt whether you have any cause for anxiety as regards Mr. Chetwode, who seems to have other designs." She then explained at some length the position of affairs at Abbotsport, and related how Archie Bligh had apparently been seduced from his allegiance, adding with an annoyed look : — •* I had a letter this morning from Mrs. Lowndes, the wife of the parish clergyman, which throws a very dis- agreeable light upon Mr. Chetwode's character. From what she tells me, I can't but think that he is trying to kill two birds with one stone. He probably wishes to free himself from Madame SouraviefF and is also anxious to bring about a quarrel between young Bligh and his cousin, who, as I mentioned to you just now, is a great heiress. I am afraid — I am very much afraid — that his object is to take young Bligh's place." Lady Dare spoke with no little emotion ; because it did seem to her atrocious that, if this engagement was to come to nothing, poor Bobby should derive no advantage at all from its annulment. As for Count Souravieff, he naturally did not care much wliat Mr. Chetwode's charac- ter or design might be ; but he was irritated by his wife's MISAD VENTURE. 23:) audacity in taking up her residence at Mr. Chetwode's house, and when he returned to the hotel Victor had a bad five minutes. The valet, of course, protested his igfnorance of Mad- ame's whereabouts, and his master told him roundly that he did not believe a word he said. Thereupon Victor rejoined with dignity that since he was no longer trusted, he would prefer to give up his situation. Now there were certain secrets connected with the Count's toilet and the treatment of his ailments which Victor alone possessed. Count Souravieff, therefore, had to do what many poten- tates have to do when indispensable personages tender their resignation, and eat humble pie. However, he did not deem it advisable to despatch this doubtful envoy upon a third special mission to England. He determined, instead, to depart so far from his custom as to write to his wife, and before retiring to bed he composed the following epistle : — " Madame, '• Although I am well aware that the word discre- tion has no place in your dictionary, I have reason to believe that you are not usually blind to the dictates of ordinary prudence. I have therefore learnt with surprise that you have considered it prudent to defy me in what, even for you, must be called a peculiarly imprudent manner. I shall scarcely be accused of jealousy, yet I have a cer- tain regard for the credit of the name which you still share with me and a certain aversion to be rendered pub- licly ridiculous. In becoming the tenant of Mr. Chet- wode, whom you have pursued from one country to another with little care for your reputation or mine, and by persuading him to take up his residence in close proxi- mity to you, you exceed all permissible limits, and I have to request that your tenancy shall cease forthwith. Any extra expense which this may entail I shall, as usual, be prepared to meet ; but I must beg you to understand that I expect to be obeyed. In the event of non-compliance I shall see myself compelled, much against my will, to stop the monthly remittances which I have hitherto caused to be paid to you. " Receive, Madame, the assurance of my very high gonsideration. «• Boris Souravieff." Ui ti ^ 1- ^1 236 MISADVENTURE. This, the Count felt, was both dignified and business- hke. He was not a strong man, and he knew that he was not ; still, he held the reins and the whip, which nobody could take away from him. Experience had not taught him that it is one thing to sit on the box and quite another thing to be able to drive. As for making his wife move in any other direction than that which it pleased her to take, he had never in his life managed to accomplish so much ; but then, to be sure, he had not very often tried. He dreaded her political far more than her social indiscre- tions, and if she had been content to keep the latter within reasonable bounds, he would hardly have troubled himself to interfere with her; but, as he had truly told her, he had a great dislike to being made ridiculous, and he thought that she was making him ridiculous now. More- over, he was encouraged to be arbitrary by the somewhat unexpected readiness with which she had accepted her dismissal from London. He looked forward, therefore, to a more or less prompt recognition of his authority, and in the meantime he cultivated the Dares, from whom he learnt many interesting particulars as to Madame Soura- vieffs manner of life in the country. •' I am almost ashamed to say so," Lady Dare declared, in the course of one of her conversations with him, " but I really cannot help thinking she must be privy to this shameful behaviour of Mr. Chetwode's. I doubt whether he would venture to pay his addresses to Cicely without Madame Souravieft's permission." '* I am quite sure that he would not, madame," re- plied the Count, with a slight twinkle in the corner of his eye. " But how very dreadful that is I It shows such — such depravity ! I can understand his wanting to get rid of her " ** So can 1 1 " interpolated the Count. " But I cannot understand her wanting to get rid of him — and in such a way ! It is unnatural — at all events, it is very unlike a woman — to be so cynical." ** It would not be very unlike Madame SouraviefF," said that lady's husband ; *• she is capable of a great deal in the way of eccentricity. And it is not proved that she wishes to f!;e,X rid of Mr. Chetwode, Because a man is MISADVENTURE. 237 married, tnr*^ is not a reason for bidding him adieu. On the contrary, marriage sometimes affords increased oppor- tunities for friendship." At this Lady Dare could only throw up her hands and gasp. •' Cicely must never be made the victim of such hor- rible machinations ! " she ejaculated with fervour. " Let us hope that she may be preserved from them, returned the count, smiling. He could form a tolerably shrewd conjecture as to his wife's aims and motives ; he knew that she would like Mark Chetwode to become a rich man, and he under- stood — what Lady Dare, who belonged to a different race, would never have understood — that a combination of love and ambition might lead her to act as she was reported to be acting. He did not, however, mention his letter to her, because his appeal for sympathy rested upon the ground that his wife had emancipated herself from his control : added to which, he thought it might be as well to to wait for a reply before admitting that he had given an order. The reply came by return of post, and a very unsatisfactory sort of reply it was : — •' My dear Boris, " It must be confessed that, for a man who hates to be ridiculous, you have an unfortunate trick of making yourself so. Why all these sonorous phrases ? You know that you have only to speak the word and I will at once join you at Wiesbaden as a submissive wife should. Be good enough to let me know whether such is your wish, for I, too am not precisely fond of being laughed at ; and everybody will begin to laugh at me when it is known that I have once more been commanded to shift my quarters al a moment's notice. If I leave Upton Chetwode, I leave England. By the way, if you had thought proper to ask me the question, I should have told yo'^ "^hat Mr. Chetwode (of whom you are so good as to - you arr not jealous) has let his house to me. I am afraid I can not flatter myself that his remaining in the neighbourhood is due to any poor attractions that I can offer. Shall 1 let you into a secret ? It is not improbable that we may hear before long of his t)etrothal to a lady who has large II m ^■i 23.S MISADVENTURE. ii' < estates near his, and if you will believe me, I am giving him all the assistance in my power, " Tout d vons, "Olga." The Count seized pen and paper, promptly delivered the iollowing counterblast. He was somewhat agitated at starting, but he cooled down as he went on : — " Madame, *' I do not wish you to come to this place ; in fact I forbid you to do so. My state of health does not allow of my supporting the scenes with which you favour me whenever we meet. At the same time, I have to repeat my request that you will leave your present domicile. You may go to any other place in or out of England that may suit you. Permit me to observe that your ruse is sufficiently transparent to those who have the honour of being acquainted with you. I can well believe that you are anxious to marry Mr. Chetwode to a lady who owns large estates, and I have no difficulty in guessing at the state of things which you think likely result from such a marriage. What is a little droll is your capacity for shutting your eyes to dangers which should be obvious to a woman of your age. I have sources of information which I need not specify, but which lead me to believe that in this instance you have overshot your mark. Has it really not occurred to you that Miss Bligh (am I correct in stating the lady's name ?) is young and beautiful, as well as rich, and that, in spite of the poet, On ne revient jamais a ses anciennes atnours ? " Deign, Madame, to accept the assurance of my sympathy and my highest consideration. *, •' Boris Souravieff." " I think," said the Count, rubbing his hands, " that that last paragraph will enrage her. It may not be true ; but she will certainly think that it is true, and she will grind her teeth." MISADVENTURE. Sdd CHAPTER XXX. A LITLLE LOSS OF TF^PKR It is not very easy for western people to realise the ethical standard of men of Mark Chetwode's semi-Slavonic nature. Western people object very strongly to telling direct falsehoods, but can without much difficulty reconcile themselves to a suggestio falsi or a suppresaio veri. Easterns, on the other hand, hold (perhaps more logically), that the harm of a lie is in the deceit, and that, if you are going to deceive your neighbour at all, you had better do it thoroughly. Judged according to the law of his own conscience (and, after all, what is the use of attempting to fix responsibility upon any other principle ?) Mark was not habitually dishonourable. It gave him great dis- comfort to act in what he felt to be i dishonourable way, and nothing but considerations of paramount importance ever made him do so. He differed from most Englishmen, no doubt, in very many respects, but in none more so than in his ability to deceive others, when he gave his mind to it, and his inability to deceive himself. To play the part suggested to him by Madame Souravieff did not precisely coincide with hiS idea of what is becoming to a man of strict integrity, and to improve upon it by throwing dust into the eye.s of Madame Souravieff herself jarred a little upon his sense of self-respect ; yet having once determined that a certain amount of dirt must be swallowed, he swallowed it without making ugly faces. If he made any false excuse for himself, it was only in so far as he still clung to the notion that the Bligh family had pilfered his land from him, and that he had a sort of moral right to get it back by any means that might offer. He played his game with great coolness, tact and suc- cess. His fellow-conspirator was persuaded that the whole business went against the grain with him, and con- stantly scolded him for neglecting to make the most of his opportunities, while over Cicely he established by degrees a sort of ascendancy which was not the less dangerous to j t, m U\ 240 MtSADVENTUBS. her because she was absolutely unconscious of it. In his intercourse with her he did not again use such freedom of speech as he had permitted himself that afternoon on the beach ; but indirectly he made her aware that he under- stood her feelings very well, and it seemed to her that he was the only person who did understand them. Archie, it was true, had been told in the plainest terms what they were ; but Archie l^d apparently forgotten what he had been told. An unaccountable change had come over Archie, who now assumed a dictatorial tone when he did not take up an aggrieved one, and was evidently no longer satisfied with the humble position which he had at first accepted with so much eagerness and gratitude. In medi- tating upon it. Cicely called this change unaccountable ; but of course it might be accounted for, and she had in reality, although not confessedly, adopted Mark's solution of what did not look like a very obscure enigma. If her pride was wounded, as doubtless it was, she concealed any mortification that she may have felt, and was very cai^iful to lay no sort of restriction upon her betrothed or upon his manner of passing his time. It he wished to be re- leased from his engagement, it was for him to take the initiative ; she had no complaint to make and made none. This may have been a very proper and dignified atti- tude to adopt ; but naturally it widened a breach which had already been noticed with complacency and satisfac- tion by everybody in Cicely's small cifcle, with the soli- tary exception of Mr. Lowndes. The Rector, for his part, did not half like the turn matters w.^re taking, and went so far as to confide his uneasiness to Miss Skipwith, who said she really thought that when people showed them- selves in their true colours, one should be thankful instead of grumbling. " Their true colours ! '" echoed Mr. Lowndes impati- ently. " And, pray, what do you suppose to be Archie's true colours ? Haven't you been vowing and declaring all along that the estate was what he wanted ? Now you seem to think that he is ready to sacrifice the estate and Cicely too for the sake of a lady who, I dare say, is as innocent of any desire to flirt with him as you are. How do you reconcile two such opposite views of the same individual ?" I MISADVENTURE!. 1241 " I don't see anything irreconcilable about them," Miss Skipwith replied. " I think just what I have always thought about the young man ; I think he is devoid of principle." A:id she nodded triumphantly at the Rector, as though inviting him to find a weak place in that suc- cinct analysis if he could. The Rector did not attempt to prove its absurdity ; he only got up and shook himself and said : — *• Oh, dear me, what nonsense 1 " And then : — ** A pretty mess you are going to make of it among you." What perturbed him more them anything else was the increasing intimacy between Cicely and Mark Chetwode, which was being freely commented upon all over the parish. Even old Coppard had had the impudence to speak to him about it — Coppard, who had heard of Archie's wish to dispossess him of the cottage which he did not pay for, and who did not scruple to say : — " Furriner or no furriner, that there Mr. Chetwode is a deal more tender-hearted that some as should be his betters, being Britons and Christians by birth ; and if Miss Cicely have found it out, why, so much the better, sir, in my opinion." He added, " No offence, sir," when the Rector frowned at him , but Mr. Lowndes rejoined : — *' There is oflfence, Coppard ; there is very great offence in your talking like that, and I beg you won't do it again." Mr. Lowndes was much more afraid of Mark Chet- wode than of Archie ; for he knew that the latter was tender-hearted enough, so far as Cicely was concerned, and had no belief in his alleged enslavement by the Rus- sian lady, Only he did think it rather odd that the young man should spend so much time at Upton Chetwode. Very likely he would have thou;;lit it still more odd if he could have overheard the kir.d of dialogue which took place there daily between Archie and his friendly adviser. The differences which are apt to arise between engaged persons always seem absurd to outsiders, who cannot for the life of them see -vhy such a prodigious fuss should be made about misunderstandings which a few words could set straight. But Madame Souravieff, whatever may have been her private convictions as to the probable effect of those few words, had no notion of allowing them to be spoken, and H IV .^m 11 H2 MISADVENTURE. assured Archie that the present period of his career was critically in the extreme. *• You must show that you arc a man." she would say, in response to his somewhat querulous lamentations. " What signifies a little passing discomfort ? This is not a question of a few weeks or months, but of your whole life. It is now or never with you." •' And if it should be never ? " ejaculated the young man one day in despair, " I really don't think I so very much care. After all, the property is hers, not mine, and if she does mismanage it and make mistakes, the worst that can happen is that she will lose a few hundreds a year — which she won't miss." " Ah, no, my friend," returned Madame Souravi* ;, smiling sadly, *• that is not the worst that can happen, or anything like the worst. The worst will be that she will learn to disregard you altogether — to treat you with con- tempt. It is an inevitable process ! Don't you think that there are even some signs of it having already be- gun ? " Unfortunately for him, he did think so ; otherwise his love for Cicely and his miserable sense of alienation from her would in all probability have led him to defy far-see- ing counsels. As it was, he found his sole solace in lis- tening to these, in feebly combating them, and in dilating upon his woes by the hour ; insomuch that when he went away, poor Madame Souravieff almost yawned her head off. *• C'est assomment ! " she would exclaim pathetically to Mark. " Never since the world began was there such an imbecile as that young officer ! Everybody who is in love is wearisome ; but he ! • Oh, no words can express how wearisome he is ! Frankly, I sometimes doubt whether it was worth while to undertake this exhausting labour even for you." " I am sincerely grateful," the perfidious Mark would rejoin. " And I can feel for you. Remember that I am not exactly enjoying myself all this time. I, too, have to spend some long hours and half-hours." Such assertions pleased Madame Souravieflf, and re- stored her gaiety to her. The curious thing was that she believed them. Or possibly it was not sc very curious ; MISADVENTURE. 243 because most of us know from personal expfjrience that a great deal is believed in for no better reason than that dis- belief would be too painful tc be faced. The first letter which Madame Souravieff received from her husband was simply ?. source of amusement to her. She replied after the manner related, having perfect confi- dence in the efficacy of her threat, and troubled herself no more about the matter. But the second letter was an- other affair, and the Count would have been much grati- fied if he had seen her face while she perused it. One may shut one's eyes to the truth for almost any length of time, unless some unfeeling wretch thinks fit to put it into words, but when once that has happened, all is over. Facts are facts, whether stated or not ; but the statement cf them frequently makes all the difference, and there were threads of grey in Madame SouiaviefFs abundant dark tresses. Gazing into her hand-mirror now, it seemed to her that they had lately become much more numerous. There were lines on her forehead, too, and something like a first indication of crows'-feet at the corners of her eyes. Her heart faltered and sank as she contemplated herself. Beauty had not yet deserted her, but youth had, and in certain contests youth is invariably and inevitably the victor. In a sudden access of fashion she struck her fore- head sharply with her clenched hand. '* Idiot ! " she exclaimed. And then — " Oh, why are men like that ? We are not. I should love him if he were old and grey and bald — it would make no difference. But they never love us ; they only love our faces." Madame Souravieff may have been mistaken as regards our sex at larf:fs — let us hope that she was — but she was not at all mistaken with regard to Mark Chetwode, who had ceased to love her before ever he saw Cicely Bligh. The certainty that this was so came upon her, as that kind of cert.iinty generally does, without proof or need of it ; but if she wanted to make assurance doubly sure, proofs, or what seemed to her to be such, were shortly to be given her. For by-and-by, growing restless, she went out of doors and wandered along that footpath by which Morton Bligh had left the house on a memorable evening. And when she drew near the gate which divided Mark Chet- wode's estate from that of his more wealthy neighbour, 'II 244 MISADVENTURK whom should she descry, standing one on either side of it, but the two persons of whom her thoughts were full. They did not notice her, but continued their conversa- tion, which had the appearance of being an interesting one. Mark was leaning over the gate and talking with more animation than usual ; Cicely was listening to him with her eyes cast down and a smile upon her lips. How was Madame Souravieff to know that they were engaged upon a harmless discussion as to the respective lots of the Russian and English peasantry ? She joined them, with anger and dismay in her heart and a countenance expres- sive of pleased surprise. They did not look in the least disconcerted ; but Cicely, who of late had taken to treat- ing her Russian friend with somewhat cold politeness, ceased to smile, and, after the interchange of a few com- monplaces, observed that it was time for her to go home. " You always run away from me now 1 " Madame Souravieff exclaimed reproachfully. " Mr. Chetwode is more fortunate ; when you are talking to him you are in no such hurry to find out what o'clock it is." " Why did you say that ? " Mark inquired, when Cicely had wished them both goodbye and had retired. " It was not in very good taste, was it ? " Madame Souravieff answered his question by another, " Why have you deceived me ? " she asked, fixing her eyes upon his. " Since you have fallen in love with that girl, why had you not the honesty to tell me so ? Did you think that I should never find it out ? " Mark had not been quite so sanguine as that, but he had thought that the discovery might very well be deferred until such time as it should no longer be a danger to him. He did not, however, put forward that explanation of his conduct ; he only remarked : — " Somebody has been suggesting absurdities to you, I suppose." '* Somebody has suggested the truth to me," she re- turned. '* It is strange that the suggestion should be required, and still more strange that it should have come from the Count ; but that does not much signify. The only thing that signifies is that I know the truth now." She told him about the letters which she had received from her husband, gf^wing more excited while she spoke, MISADVENTURE. 245 ; / and finally giving way to one of those uncontrollable paroxysms of wrath which were so repellent to him. '* You will understand that I cannot remain any longer in your house," she declared in conclusion. " I shall obey the Count ; I shall leave this place. Then you can marry Miss Bligh if she will have you, and you will not have to play the hypocrite every day, as you have done lately. That will be a relief to you, I should think." He had very great difficulty in pacifying her. More than once in the course of the long disputation which ensued he was tempted to drop the mask and admit his treachery — if a change of feelings which no human being can help ought to be called by that name. But he did not trust Madame Souravieff sufficiently to run such risks. She was a powerful ally and would be a dangerous enemy ; that she would remain neutral it was impossible to believe. And yet, with all the trouble that he gave himself, he achieved no more than a partial success. Her anger, indeed, cooled down, but she only half believed assevera- tions to which even his skill could hardly impart a ring of sincerity. " Nevertheless, I think I will go away," she said at last. *' I have done all that I can for you ; you will man- age what remains as well without me as with me. There is no need to go on protesting ; what has happened now — or hasn't happened yet — is simply what was sure to happen from the first. It is nobody's fault, I daresay." Mark was far from satisfied when he left her. Resig- nation, as he knew, was not one of her virtues, nor was consistency among her attributes. Because she seemed to be passive now, it did not at all follow thai she would not be active to-morrow, and only a very little activity on her part was required to demolish the edifice he had so laboriously built up. " What she wants,' he mused, '* is something to divert her thoughts. If only those wretched people in Bulgaria would move I They are long past their time, as it is. I must remind her of that — and that it is lack of money that is keeping them back. Any way I am at her mercy, and must remain at her mercy for a long time to come. If I were not one of the most unlucky of mortals she would have wearied of me before now ; if she hasn't, it is no^ because I haven't given her cause, Heaven knows/' ij ^ i a. 246 MISADVENTUllE." CHAPTER XXXI. A REVELATION. To be at a woman's mercy is (with all due respect and admiration for the many virtues which women possess and we do not) an undesirable position lor any man to occupy. No one will deny that women are often merciful ; but few even of themselves would assert that they are wont to show mercy to rivals or traitors, and it is as well not to expect of them that they should. What Mark expected of Madame Souravieff was that she would make a full revelation to Cicely of his designs and hers, and be very sorry for it afterwards. After a fashion he understood her ; but only alter a fashion, recognising the enthusiasm and impulsiveness of her temperament, without allowing her credit for a certain nobility which was likely to deter her from injuring him in the manner that he feared. He thought it an ominous sign that she had not asked him to to return to dinner with her. While he disposed of the unappetising meal which went by that name under the roof of Mr Simpkins he pictured her sitting alone in the gloomy dining-room at Upton Chetwode and reviewing the situation His representations had produced some effect upon her ; but was there any chance of the effect being other than transitory ? He could imagine that she would at first laugh at herself for having been taken in by such obvious falsehoods, then fall to brooding over her wrongs, then work herself up into another fury, and finally resolve to be avenged upon him, cost what it might. Her habit was to sti ike while the iron was hot : it was far from mi probable that she would drive over to the Priory immediately after breakfast the next morning, in order to take a step which could never be retraced. The more Mark reflected upon this contingency the greater became his uneasiness and his desire to avert it. It might be averted by the exercise of personal influence, but then again it might be precipitated by the same means ; for of course it would be a fatal mistake to appeo.r too MISADVENTURE. M anxious. He hesitated, therefore, to yield to his inclina- tion, which was to stroll up to Upton Chetwode in the course of the evening for a cigarette and a quiet chat with his tenant. There would be nothing out of the way in his doing what he had done so many times before ; still, if she should suspect the object of his visit, he would be in a worse predicament than if he had remained away. He had not yet made up his mind what he would do, when he left his stuffy little lodgings and wandered through the steep street which led out of the village to the heights above it. It was a still, sultry night, and whether he went to Upton Chetwode or not, he felt that he could not remain within doors, haunted by the odours of Mr. Simp- kins's bacon and cheese. As he slowly mounted the hill, and passed the confines of the property which was all that remained to him of his ancestral estates, the summer twilight was fading into darkness and the stars were beginning to show themselves, one by one, in a blue-black sky. He was by nature a melancholy man ; his life had been spent chiefly in busy cities ; he did not love the country, and the hush of the falling night oppressed him. On reachmg the margin of one of his own woods he seated himself upon a felled trunk, dropped his head upon his hand and pondered over the past, the present and the future. None of the three appeared satisfactory. The best half of life was over for him and had bequeathed him no pleasant memories ; at an age when most men are sup- posed to be exempt from the risk of falling in love he had, for the first time, experienced a passion of such intensity that the mere idea of failure made him shudder ; and when, somewhat against the grain, he forced himself to look forward, he saw difficulties and dangers without end. '* How much better it would be for me," he thought, •• if I v/ere as cold as Olga makes me out, and if I wanted nothing more now than I wanted when she and old Wing- held persuaded me to try conclusions with an unknown trainenr de sabre ! I might have beaten the traineiir de sabre — I may beat him yet, if I am not interfered with, because he isn't very hard to beat — but shall I ever obtain the only thing that 1 care for ? Acres of land, and pock- ets full of money — at the best, I can hardly hope to gc t lucre than those, and they ought to satisfy my ambition. Xhu unfortunate thing is that they don't." il SI : M '% us MISADVENTURE. This was a bad beginning ; and matters looked darker still when he reflected that even the acres and the money were in serious jeopardy. He felt too depressed and unnerved to carry out his half-formed intention of facing Madame Souravieff again that night ; so he remained motionless where he was, notwithstanding the darkness and the heavy dew, until the sound of a cautious footfall in the wood behind him attracted his attention. Somebody who evidently did not wish to attract attention was approaching him, and had he been brought up in England, he would have guessed at once what that unseen individual was about. As it was, he only supposed that small por- tions of his timber were being appropriated, and did not much care if they were. But after a time a thick-set, heavily-built man emerged from the wood within a stone's throw of him and stood for a moment, glancing right and left and listening. The pockets of this man's pilot coat bulged out from his person in a suspicious manner ; also, to remove all doubt as to the occupation upon which he had just been engaged, there dangled from his left hand the lifeless body of a hare. " Oho !" thought Mark, and with a sudden spring he threw himself upon the unsuspecting poacher, the collar of whose coat he gripped firmly. It was not the safest thing in the world to do ; but Mark was no sufferer from timidity, and a guilty conscience, as we know, will make cowards of the most intrepid. Mr. Coppard's conscience was not especially sensitive ; nevertheless, he did not attempt to show fight, but dropped his hare and exclaimed in a lamentable voice : *• Lord love 'ee, sir, you ain't got no call to kill a man ! I'm ready to go along quite quiet and be give into custody — if so be as you've the 'eart to do it, sir." " I really see no reason why I shouldn't give you into custody," said Mark; "you appear to have been robbing me of my game. What punishment are you liable to for such offences ?" " Three months' 'ard labour, sir — or maybe double," answered Coppard, with a sigh and a sad memory of pre- vious convictions. " Come to that, I don't know but what it might run to penal servitude for a term o' years. 'Tis cruel 'ard, sir, upon a man with a 'ungry family." 'Stt'V.'**. MISADVENTURE. 240 " The pains and penalties of the law," observed Mark calmly, " are always hard ir» individual cases. It is a com- fort to think that no individual is compelled to lay himself open to them." *' What should you do yourself, sir, if your wife and children was in want and you couldn't get no work ?" " Really I don't know ; very likely I should rob some- body. But that is no reason for allowing myself to be robbed. In addition to which, I don't believe that your wife and children are hungry, because that is a state of things which Miss Bligh would never permit." " There's a many things, sir," answered Coppard, sol- emnly, " as Miss Cicely would not permit, if she kiiowed of 'em, and could prevent 'em. My being sent into penal servitude for one. She won't thank you for doin' o' that there job, you may depend." But since Mark did not take that hint, and remained obdurate in spite of a very penitent and touching appeal for pity, it seemed as though the time had come to take a step which Coppard had contemplated for some time past. He said : •* Look 'ee here, sir ; I could tell you somethin' as 'ud make it well worth your while to overlook what I done to- night. 'Tis well known in Abbotsport as you're sweet upon Miss Cicely. You'll excuse me puttin' things so plain ; but a man in my desp'rate plight can't afford to be over nice, you see, sir. Well, sir, you give me your word as you'll take no proceedin's in this unfortnit business and I'll 'elp you with her in a v/ay as'll maybe astonish you." " You are very obliging," answered Mark ; " but I think I will hear what you have to say before I commit myself to any promises." This excessive caution grieved Mr. Coppard, who ob- served that he was not one to deceive those who reposed trust in him. His own disposition, he gave it to be under- stood, was eminently trustful ; nevertheless, he should feel it due to himself to keep his lips closed in default of a dis- tinct undertaking that he should not be haled before the magistrates. " What I got to say to you, sir," he added, by way of incentive, ** is a thing as 'ud remove young Mr. Bligh out o* your way for hever and for hever ; I don't mind teliin' you so much as that." fll ■li' 1' $1 . 'Wi: i t i ' i '^1 [ti 250 MISADVENTURE. " Oh, something to young Mr. Bligh's disadvantage, is it ? " returned Mark. " Very well ; say on. Probably your information will be of no value ; but, on the other hand, it will not afford me any particular satisfaction to send you to prison. You may consider yourself safe from me. The ground being thus cleared, Coppard proceeded to make his statement. He spent some time in preliminary remarks, because, being an Abbotsport man born and bred, he never did or said anything without due deliberation, and because self-respect required of him that he should explain how it was that he came to be acting in what a superficial observer might deem an unfriendly way to "the family." Any superficial observer who should jump to such a conclusion would, it appeared, be falling into a very great mistake. " What I seen I kep' to myself, sir, and should have continued for to keep to myself, spite of any temptation as you could ha' hoffered to me, without I'd come to feel sar- tain sure as that there young gentleman was no proper 'utband for our Miss Cicely. Wanted to turn me out of 'ouse and 'ome, he did — and would ha' done it, too, on'y Miss Cicely she worn't agoin' to be dictated to by he, bless her ! " " I can fully enter into your sentiments with regard to him," said Mark. " He evidently deserves neither pity nor sympathy. Now perhaps you will tell me what you saw him do." Coppard's reply was very startling and very unex- pected. " I seen him commit murder, sir — that's what I seen him do. And the murdered man was Mr. Morton Bligh, as met his death by misadventure, accordin' to the verdict of the crowner's jury. Same as made some unpleasant and uncalled-for observations about you, sir, you'll 're- member." Mark's emotions were not easily stirred, but his heart began to beat fast now, and it was with a somewhat thick utterance that he said : — ** This is a serious matter." " So 'tis, sir," Coppard assented. " 'Tis what you might call a 'angin' matter, though my 'ope is as it won't ,i\ MISADVENTURE. 251 'M ■',< come to that. Anyway, what I seen I seen, and can de- pose to upon hoath, if required." " You were placed upon your oath at the inquest, were you not ? " " I were, sir, and repHed truthfully to all questions asked, as in dooty bound." " Ah ! I thonifht you were bound to tell not only the truth but the whole truth. I am afraid you may get into trouble if you don't tell the whole truth now. Let us hear it, at all events." " If you please, sir," answered Coppard. . His narrative, if somewhat diffuse, was circumstantial, and bore the impress of veracity. It seemed that on the night of the fatal occurrence he had been, for purposes of his own over which he passed lightly, in the vicinity of the spot where his auditor and he now were. He had wit- nessed the meeting between the two cousins, and although he had been too far oil to hear what passed between them, he had judged by their raised voices that an altercation had immediately ensued His impression had certainly been that Mr Morton was not sober. ** Well, sir, arter a time they seemed to get more friendly like, and Mr. Harchibald he ketches 'oldo't'other by the arm and leads him off quite quiet. ' So,' thinks I, ' you've made it up, and a good job, too ! ' For you see, sir, 'tis mere foolishness to quarrel with a man as don't know what he's about, and a thing I would never do my- self, not if the provocation was ever so Well, sir, I didn't look no more, but turned my back upon 'em, havin' other things to 'tend to, till I 'ears a sort o' scramblin' and scufiflin' and runs out from the trees just in time to see Mr. Morton rollover the cliff and Mr. Harchibald on his 'ands and knees close to the hedge. 'Twas touch and go with him, sir, you may depend, and the marvel to me is that we didn't have two deaths in the family, 'stead o' one, that night. Mr. Hare liibald, he seemed sort o' mazed like ; and there he were, settin'on the grass for the best part of a quarter of an hcur, I should say, afore he jumps up and runs off towards the station as fast as he can go. Dessay you may have heard, sir, as he missed the train he said he meant to travel by that night, and didn't leave till after midnight. A very orkard circumstance, by my way o' lookin' at it." m I'-' " 1^ :i^ H4 IM 252 MISADVENTURE. II And you never said a word about all this ? ** •* Not me, sir 1 Tiiinks I to myself, ' This may be mis- tortun' or it may be intention ; tain't for me to speak posi- tive as to one or t'other. But this I knows for sure : I ain't agoin' to break Miss Cicely's 'eart. Nor yet I shouldn't ha' spoke as I done to-night if I'd thought as there was any fear o' that, sir." ♦' Oh, you don't think there is any fear of that," said Mark, absently. " Else I should ha' kep' my mouth shut, sir, as I tell 'ee. But you know better nor I do what Miss Cicely's feelin's is." There was a rather long pause, after which Mark said : — " I should recommend you to keep your mouth shut until I call upon you to open it again — and that, most likely, will be never I daresay you have sense enough to see that you would do yourself no good by telling this story so late in the day. There is no reason at all why you should be believed, and there is more than one reason for looking upon your statement with suspicion. You are known to bear a grudge against the man whom you accuse, for instance." " Upon my solemn Bible oath " began Coppard. *' Oh, you needn't trouble about that ; you have con- vinced me. The question for you to consider is what your unsupported evidence is worth ; and in my opinion it isn't worth much, coming so long after the event. You swear that you saw certain things ; young Bligh swears that you couldn't have seen them, since they never occurred ; im- partial people have to decide which is telling the truth, and they naturally conclude that you are a malignant slanderer. At least, that is my idea of what will happen. I am not sure whether malignant slander is as heinous an offence as killing hares ; but I presume that you may be sent to prison for it." Coppard scratched his head in perplexity. " Then bain't you going to take advantage of this hen sir," he asked. •♦ I haven't made up my mind yet what I shall do ; 1 am only giving you reasons for silence. By your own account you wish to avoid distressing Miss Bligh if pos- V MISADVENTURE. 253 sible, and of course that is also my wish. It is quite upon the cards that I may decide to let her remain in ignorance of the whole affair." " As yuu please, sir," answered Coppard, with a puzzled look; " 'tis for you to say what shall be done. Thouf^h I can't think," he added presently, " as you'll allow Miss Cicely to marry her brother's murderer." *' That, however, seems to have been what you were prepared to do until you found yourself in danger of being committed for trial upon a charge of poaching. Now that you have escaped that danger you had better be thankful and hold your tongue. If ever I want your evidence I shall call upon you for it ; but if I don't call upon you, I shall expect you to know no more than you said you knew when you were examined at the inquest. Do you under- stand ? " Coppard replied that he did, pledged himself to secrecy and went off home, taking his booty with him, since he had not been ordered to relinquish it. Mr. Chetwode, he pre- sumed, did not want to eat his own hares, and might have been puzzled to account for his possession of them if ques- tioned by that inquisitive fellow Simpkins. As for Mark, he sat down again and pondered for a while. It need scarcely be said that he had no idea of allowing the for- midable weapon which had been placed in his hands to rust ; but there were more ways than one of striking with it,. and he had to consider which of them would be the best to adopt. CHAPTER XXXII. THE SWORD FALLS. Mark was so far right in his forecast of the probable effect of solitude upon Madame Souravieff s mood that she did in the course of the evening begin to feel incapable of passive submission to what she herself had declared to be her inevitable fate. Naturally enough she was more incensed against the innocent Cicely than against the f ithless Mark. It was rather upon Cicely than upon 1 i!- 1 it ' 1 a i 1 Jl; n I-'. ■^ ^54 MISADVENTURE. Mark that she desired to be avenged, and of couri,e noth- ing could be easier than to gratify such a desire to the full. All she had to do was to drive over to the Pricry in the morning and make a more or less penitent confession of the plot upon which she had been engaged. That, it was true, would involve her in a certain amount of obloquy and would likewise cut for ever the tie which still bound her to the man whom she loved. But what then ? As a pis alter, one may be content to perish, like Samson, amid the ruins which destroy one's enemies. But these were only visions; and even while she in- dulged in them she knew that she would never translate them into realities. After all, she loved the man ; and if nothing else can be said for her, it must be said that her love for him had always been unselfish. From the first her one wish had been that he should be rich, powerful ;nid happy; from the first she had recognised that, as matters stood, his happiness would hardly be made com- patible wilib her own ! Was she to ruin him now because her heart was aching with an agony of jealousy for which it was still just possible that there might be no sufficient t:c;use ? That last thought might have made her stay her 1 and if nothing else did. Illusions die very hard, and 1 ope, according to the ancients, never dies at all. Mad- .nie Souravieff thought she knew Mark Chetwode. Being a man, he was like other m.en, capable of being fascinated by beauty ; but he was even less capable than other men I t remaining constant to such fascinations. Granted that iliis girl had made a conquest oi him with her pretty face, It did not follow that she would be able to retain what she I. ad won. " On ne revient jamais a ses pre- ieres amours,'' that malicious old Count had written ; but the assertion, if true at all, was only true of the kind of love v/hich pretty laces can excite ; it did not apply to attachments ground- ( d upon something moi«: permanent than physical beauty. Madame Souravieff, it will be perceived, was some- what hard put to it to find sources of consolation for her- self ; still these, such as they were, sufficed in default of better ones to restrain her from the commission of a rash act of revenge, and although, when the next morning came, she could not resist ordering the carriage and hav- ing herself driven to the Priory, it v/as with no hostile MISADVENTURE. 255 intentions that she set forth. Probably, if she could have fathomed her own motives, which is always a difficult thing to do, she would have discovered that curiosity held the chief place amongst them. Did Cicely Bligh possess any attractions which could be accounted other than skin- deep ? Was she really in love with Mark or only out of patience with her cousin ? Would there be much trouble about moulding and directing her after her marriage ? These were questions to which Madame SouraviefF was desirous of finding some answers, and doubtless she would have succeeded in doing so before long, had she not found Mark himself seated in the drawing-room at the Priory when she was admitted. That was a rather provoking circumstance ; still it was almost compensated for by the sight of his dismayed and interrogative face, and Madame Souravieff, who understood perfectly well what he was afraid of, was put into good humor when she perceived how deeply his habitual calm had been disturbed. It gave her spirits the little fillip of which they sttod in need ; she felt able to be brilliant, and certainly proved herself so. " I have called at an inadmissible hour," she began, " but I am glad to see that somebody else has taken the same liberty without the sanie excuse. Mr. Chetwode can't plead, as I can, that this may be his last chance of seeing you." And when Cicely had expressed the surprise and regret which such an announcement appeared to call for, she went on : — " Oh, I don't know for certain that I am going away ; my movements are almost always uncertain, I am sorry to say. But it is quit* possible that I may vanish in a day or two, and I didn't want to vanish without wishing you good-bye." She did not explain herself further, but began to talk in a very lively and amusing way about topics of general interest ; insomuch that Mark could not imagine what she would be at, and Cicely, who did not like her, was com- pelled, not for the first time, to acknowledge the charm of her manner. And so, when Miss Skipwith came into the room, and the luncheon bell was heard, there was nothing for it but to give an invitation which was promptly ac- cepted, »1 I ! IWL 1 256 MISADVENTURE. Archie joined the party in the dining-room. He looked dull and depressed, as indeed he generally did at this time, but Madame SoLiraviefF soon made talk. It was apropos of some remark of hers about the German cavalry which were uttered for his benefit that Cicely said : — *♦ I suppose we may at least claim to have the best cavalry in the world. I should say we had the best army all round, only one isn't allowed nowadays to assert that we surpass other nations in any single thing. I had a letter this morning from Jane Dare, who is at Wiesbaden, and who draws most unpatriotic comparisons between British and German soldiers." " Oh, they are at Wiesbaden, then, your friends ! " exclaimed Madame Souravieff, breaking into a peal of laughter. " That accounts for it ! Now we know where the Count gets his trustworthy information from. Did Mr. Chetwode tell you about my husband's letters to me? But of course he would not ; he is so discreet ! Person- ally I am indiscretion itself ; besides, it is unfair to defraud one's neighbours of a joke in this melancholy world. Would you believe that Count Souravieff has given me orders to leave this place instantly ? And for such a reason ! I came here, it seems, in order to be near Mr. Chetwode, of whom I am supposed to be much too fond. The Count considers this scandalous ; and he knows that it is true, because he has been told of it upon excellent authority. And I, who thought that Sir George and Lady Dare were such nice, innocent, old people ! " She laughed heartily once more ; but nobody joined in her laughter, and only Mark looked amused. Miss Skip- with drew down the corners of her mouth and assumed an air of severity ; in her opinion the joke, if it was a joke, was one of very questionable taste. Archie frowned, and Cicely, not quite knowing what she was expected to say, held her peace. Madame Souravieffs attempt to relieve a portion of the melancholy of the world would certainly have fallen very flat if Mark had not hastened to respond. He, at least, had the advantage of knowing what he was expected to say, and he said it. Why such a candid state- ment of the circumstances had been made he did not know ; but it was evidently intended that he should deride the suspicions of the Count — which thing he had no objection to do. MISADVENTURE. 257 " This com'js of disregarding one's intuitions," hv-^ remarked, wit'i a shrug of his shoulders. •• When I took lodgings in ''i.bbotsport I felt sure that all the good peopL; round about would be scandalised. They were certain to say that I could not tear myself away from the society of my tenant ; and the unfortunate part of it was that if they did say so they would not be very far wrong. As for Count SouraviefF, he is like the absent — he is always wrong." ** And almost always absent," put in the Count's wife. " However, 1 am not convinced that he would be more often in the right if he were present ; because he is not a very acute person. He might have been here the whole time and yet never discovered that it was not for my sake that Mr. Chetwode had taken up his abode above a grocer's shop." Madame SouravieflF glanced at her hostess as she smil- ingly delivered this shot, and gathered from Cicely's face that it had found its way home. Cicely was not in the least embarrassed ; but she was decidedly annoyed, and showed that she was so by changing the subject em- phatically, Madame SouraviefF's whole tone was dis- pleasing to her ; nor did she altogether like Mark's jocular treatment of what it would surely have been more becom- ing in him to resent as a gross calumny. As soon as luncheon was over Madame Souravieff took her leave. She had hoped for a short private con- versation with Miss Bligh ; but it was very certain that Mark would remain where he was the whole afternoon rather than allow her that privilege, so she said that she would try to look in again before her departure. " That is, if I do dej \rt. Ought I to depart, do you think ? Mr. Chetwode refuses to give me any advice." " Only because I am not a disinterested adviser," put in Mark ** How can an impoverished landlord who is threatened with the loss of his tenant be disinterested ? " '♦ Oh, if you think that I had better stand my ground, pray don't let a mistaken feeling of delicacy prevent you from saying so," returned Madame SouraviefF, with a mocking glance at him. Then, as he did not reply, and as Cicely obstinately contemplated the carpet, she said good-bye to everybody, M :^M' 'jAm.k '-^ " PH 258 MISADVENTURE. reminded Archie that he had promised to dine with her that evening and made a grateful exit. Cicely, as has been said, was not best pleased either with Madame Souravieff or with Mark ; and this, per- haps, may have made her feel more kindly disposed towards Archie than she had dbne of late. '* What are you going to do this afternoon ? " she asked him. " Would you like to come for a ride with me ? " It was a long time since she had made any such sug- gestion to him, and there something pathetic in the eager- ness with which the young fellow jumped at it. ♦' Of course I should," he answered. " When shall we start ? " Mark could do no less than get up and say that he must be going ; nor could Cicely very well do less than offer him a mount, if he cared to accompany her and her cousin. This offer, however, he declined, upon the plea that he was not dressed for riding ; so she shook hands with him and left the room, saying that she would go and put on her habit. As soon as she was gone, Mark asked Archie whether he was inclined to smoke a cigarette in the. garden while Miss Bligh was getting ready. ** I rather want to speak to you, if you can spare me a few minutes," he added. So poor Archie went with a light heart to hear his doom. Tradition does not say whether the suspended sword ever fell upon the neck of the startled Damocles ; but if he had nerve enough to finish his dinner, the chances are that he recovered his equanimity before rising from the table. Archie Bligh had of late grown accus- tomed to his scaicely more enviable position. The con- sciousness of the dreadful secret which must always exist between hirn and Cicely still weighed upon him, it is true ; but he had almost ceased to dread detection, and he had no foreboding of what was coming when his companion said, in a grave voice : — " I heard something last night, Bligh, which I was very sorry to hear. I thought I ought to lose no time in telhng you about it." " People are always coming to tell me about unpleas- ant things," remarked Archie, with a slight laugh. " I MlSADVENtUKli:. 259 ca&*t make them understand that this property doesn't belong to me, and that I have no power to punish evil- doers or check abuses." " What I was told last night did not refer to property," answered Mark ; '• it referred to you. My first impulse was to keep what I had been told to myself ; but I doubt whether I should serve you much by doing that, even if I could feel it to be justifiable ; because my informant was a man whom you have unfortunately oHended, and prob- ably he is not at all to be relied upon. You know the old proverb : ' Murder will out I ' It seems to be as true as most proverbs, and truer than some." Archie had turned deadly white. " What in the world are you talking about ? " he man- aged to gasp out. " I should think you can guess. To make a long story short, that old fisherman, Coppard, was an eye-witness of it all. He was in my woods — poaching, I suppose — and he saw you throw your cousin over the cliflF, What more is there to be said ? It would be absurd to attempt to console you or to pretend that your life, so far as this place is concerned, is not at an end. All I can do is to advise you to escape while there is still time." "But you are wrong !" exclaimed Archie; "what happened was not at all what you suppose. I never threw Morton over the clift, it was he who tried to throw me over — in fact, he actually did push me over — and it was only in struggling to recover myself that I dragged him to the ground. Of course he was drunk. I don't know that he would have tried to murder me in cold blood ; but he certainly did try then, and as nearly as possible succeded. As for me, I didn't even know that he had fallen for a minute or two, and I don't know now how it occurred. That old villain Coppard may say what it suits him to say ; but surely you must know that I am not a murderer." " 1 don't doubt your word for a single moment, my dear fellow," answered Mark compassionately ; " but it would be no kindness to you to assert that other fellows will not doubt it. How could you have been so foolish as to run away?" " I don't know," groaned Archie. •* It was foolish, I dare say? but I though^^, just as you srv, that there wm W it I ; ■ ■■. i«|l1 ml I -- 260 inSADVENTUBI. I ^ ii would be people who would doubt my word, and I couldn't bring Morton back to life again, and I had no time to think things over coolly. Anyhow, I wouldn't run away again. If I'm to be tried for my life I shall tell the truth, and if my story isn't believed I shall be hanged, I suppose. Death won't be very much worse than what I have been suffering all this summer." " There are some other considerations which will occur to you when you have had more leisure for re- flection," observed Mark, after remaining silent for a few seconds. *' If I can be of any assistance to you — and I think that per?iaps I can — I shall be very glad. I heard Madame SouraviefF say that you were dming with her to-night ; won't you come in and see me afterwards ? Then we can talk matters over and decide what is best to be done. Now you will have to go out for your ride, and you must try to look and speak as usual." " That is utterly impossible !" exclaimed Archie des- pairingly. '* Look here, Chetwode, you must make some excuse for me to Cicely. Say anything you like, but I can't see her now. I'll turn up at your place this even- ing ; though I don't know what you or anybody else can do for me." He turned away as he spoke and hurried down one ot the shrubberies and was soon out of sight. Mark entered the house with a grave and preoccupied mien, which he did not discard when Cicely, with her riding habit, met him at the foot of the staircase. " I have come back to bring you a thousand apologies from your cousin, Miss Bligh," said he. " He remembered that he had some appointment or engagement — I didn't exactly gather what it was — and he couldn't stop to offer his excuses in person." Cicely's eyes grew large and angry. She not un- naturally suspected that Madame SouraviefF had some- thing to do with this appointment or engagement, and she felt pretty sure that Mark suspected the same thing. '• Oh, very well," she answered ; "I will tell them that we don't want the horses, then." She knew that it would be unwise and undignified to say anything more ; but Mark's serious and compassionate gaze so provoked her that she could not resist adding : — MISADVENTURE. 261 it You really need not look so sorry for me ; the dis- appointment is not an overwhelming one." "Was I looking sorry?" asked Mark, apparently rousinghimself from afit of abstraction. "If I was, I suppose it was because I was thinking of him, not of you. He is very much to be pitied." The remark was an astute one, because it could be made to apply to various future and as yet uncertain con- tingencies ; but Cicely of course interpreted it as he had intended her to do. " Do you mean because Madame Souravieff is going away ?" she asked tranquilly. ** Yes, I am afraid he will miss her a good deal if she does go ; but perhaps she won't. She didn't deprive us of all hope." •i I. m CHAPTER XXXni. A COMPETENT ADVISER. Archie hastened away, without noticing or caring whither he went. He passed through the shrubberies, crossed a corner of the park, and at length reached a sum- mer-house commanding a view of Abbotsport and the bay, which had been erected in the days when summer-houses were the fashion, but which was now given over to spiders and earwigs. Here he sat down and tried to think. The first question he asked himself was whether his position was really as desperate as Mark Chetwode had made it out. Coppard, no doubt, was corruptible ; Coppard would hardly have held his peace so long had he not expected to derive pecuniary advantage from silence. There was that possibility ; and there was, besides, the hope that Cicely, when the truth should be revealed to her, would under- stand and accept it. Surely she would take the word of a gentleman rather than that of a notorious vagabond ; surely, too, she would see the absurdity of imagining that her cousin had deliberately compassed her brother's death. Nevertheless, Archie could not flatter himself that either of these alternatives was likely to save him. From the payment of blackmail he shrank, having sense enough to 1 ♦ ..CI M .w 262 MiS.\t)VEN^TURE. be aware that that would be tantamount to an admission of guilt, and would probably result in nothing better than the putting off of the evil day ; while as for making a tardy confession to Cicely, he could not but perceive that his own folly had rendered such a course useless. She might accept his word, but she would not pardon his cowardice, nor would she consent to become his wife. He felt so sure of this that he dismissed the idea of confession from his mind almost immediately. What, then, remained ? Nothing, that he could see, except to await the course of events passively. Even if he cared about saving his neck, it would be scarcely worth v/hile to have recourse to flight, for suspected murderers can be arrested anywhere and everywhere in these days. Moreover, he had no great fear of being hanged. Hanging is not a dignified method ot making one's exit from the world, but if he were to lose Cicely he would lose everything, and his life might as well end with his hopes, That is the kmd of thing which is often said and sel- dom or never meant. At Archie's age the physical cling- ing lo life, which w all have in a greater or less degree, is very strong, and it iS not likely that he would have surren- dered himself to the police without making a dash for escape. That the very best thing he could do, under the circumstances, was to surrender himself to the police was an aspect of the case which did not present itself to him. His one longing was to retain such love as Cicely had been able to give him, and that longing seemed hopeless enough. '* Your life, so far as this place is concerned, is at an end," Mark had told him. The words rang in his ears like a sentence from which there was no appeal. He sat for a very long time where he was, and had arrived at no decision when at length he rose and wan- dered down towards Abbotsport. Chetwode, who had spoken of giving him assistance, might possibly be able to advise him, he thought. Chetwode was clever and cool- headed and seemed disposed to be friendly. The lack of self-reliance, which was the poor fellow's worst failing, inclined him to clutch at any hand held out to him, and if he had sometimes been a little jealous of Mark, that was a petty sentiment which had been dispelled by far more powerful emotions. At all events, it was essential that he MISADVENTURE. 268 should consult with Mark, since he was in Mark's power, and he was fully prepared to be guided by so impartial a counsellor. Remembering, however, that he would not be expected before evening, he did not proceed straight to Mr. Simpkins', but strayed some little distance along the beach and then, throwing himself down under an over- hanging rock, apathetically watched the ebbing tide until long after sunset. Late as he supposed it to be when he reached Mark's temporary abode, his arrival seemed early to that gentle- man, who was finishing his dinner, and who greeted him with a surprised exclamation of : — ♦• Already ! You must have cut Madame SouraviefF's hospitality very short. But my dear fellow, you are not dressed. Haven't you kept your engagement at all ? " " I forgot it," answered Archie ; " and I shouldn't have gone if I had remembered it. I haven't been home since I saw you." " Do you mean to say that you have had no dinner ? Well, I can't offer you very tempting fare, but such as it is, it is at your service. One must eat, you know, what- ever happens." " Thank you, but I am not hungry," replied Archie shortly, •♦ That has nothing to say to the question. You will have to use your brains to-night, and you cannot do that if your body is in a state of collapse. You must try to manage a mutton chop and a glass or two of champagne." And Mark got up and rang the bell. Archie yielded, not thinking it worth while to dispute about trifles. As a matter of fact, he did want food ami felt better after it, though scarcely more cheerful. When he had finished, his host, who until then had refused to enter upon any discussion, said : — " Now let us endeavour to be as sane and reasonable as we can. Have you thought at all this afternoon about what is to become of you ? " " I have been thinking about else," answered Archie ; " but thinking doesn't mend matters much. I suppose what will become of me will be that 1 shall be tried for murder." " Oh, I think not. The case, you see, stands thus ;^' " • 1 ■I': i' i 11 '-Sk 264 MISADVENTURE. There is one witness who is prepared to swear that he saw a struggle between you and your cousin which ended in the way that we know of; he certainly couldn't swear that you provoked the struggle or that you meant it to end in that way. The unlucky circumstance, of course, is your having concealed what occurred ; but there is no help for that now. Well, it so happens that that witness is to some extent in my power. Apparently he does not love you; but he has a dog-like sort of attachment for Miss Bhgh, and altogether I am inclined to think that his silence might be secured. That is, if he knew that you had left the place never to return." " But why should that be a necessary condition ? " asked Archie eagerly. " I am afraid he would consider it so ; these half-edu- cated people are always obstinate. You must remember that he really believes you intended to kill Morton, and his belief would hardly be shaken by your denial." " Then why didn't he say so before ? " " Because he wouldn't do anything that might cause anhappiness to Miss Bhgh. He thought at first that it would make her happy to marry you ; now he has changed his mind, and thmks, rightly or wrongly, that it would not. It isn't quite a case of bribery, you see ; though I don't say that a bribe would be refused." This chimed in well enough with what Archie recol- lected to have heard from Coppard's own lips ; yet he could not thmk that he must submit to ruin and ship- wreck because a drunken old fisherman disapproved of his marriage. " Of course," he said, " I would n.'ake it worth Coppard's while to hold his tongue. And don't you think that, if I had a talk with him, I could get him to understand that he is mistaken about Cicely ? " Mark did not reply, but shook his head and, taking his chin between his finger and thumb, looked gravely down at the carpet. " I know what he means," Archie went on. " Cicely and I didn't agree as to his paying up the arrears of his rent, and there were one or two other points connected with the property about which we were not quite of one mind and which he may have heard of. But that isn't to say that there has been any real dispute between us. ■t vi : MISADVENTUBB. 26i You can assure him of that, I should think, if he won't beheve me." •• I fear that he won't be convinced," answered Mark. " And even if he were ! The truth is, my dear Bhgh, that although I am very anxious to serve you to the best of my ability, I am still more anxious to spare your cousin, and it is for her sake quite as much as for yours that I want you to leave Abbotsport. I am afraid you haven't yet realised that under no circumstances could you become her husband now, I tell you frankly that, if nobody else stepped in to stop your marriage, I should feel bound to do so. One can't allow any woman to marry in ignorance a man who has killed her brother ; though he may have done it, as I have no doubt that you did, in mere self- defence. I am quite sure that if you were situated as I am, you would look on the matter just as I do." Unhappily this was only too true ; and the faint spark of hope which had been kindled in Archie's heart died away. •' You are right," he said, in a low voice. '* If I had made a clean breast of it at the cime, it might have been different ; but it is too late now. All I can do for her is to save her from the humiliation of ever hearing the truth. If only I could do that without running away I She will think I have deserted her." " Yes," agreed Mark ; *• that is what she will think. It is best that she should think so." He added after a moment (and probably he was quite sincere), ** I never felt more sorry for any man in my life than I do for you, Bligh ; but I can suggest nothing except flight to you ; there is nothing else for it. Perhaps it sounds heartless to say so ; nevertheless it is true that you are young enough to begin a fresh career elsewhere." " That will be so easy, won't it ? " returned Archie, with a bitter laugh. "All one has to do is to forget every- thing and everybody. I suppose you mean that I had better settle in Australia under a feigned name ? " " I don't see why you should change your name. You might settle in Australia, if you thought that desirable, but when I was thinking to-day what I could do for you it struck me that you might prefer the chance of a little active service in Europe. I think I could very likely pro- cure that chance for you." , f 2H6 HISADVENTtTBK. L^ Archie pricked up his ears. •• I wish you would ! " he exclaimed. *' It is just the one thing — the only thing — that I should care to live for." •' So I imagined. Well, I can't make any promise, because it is very doubtful whether war will break out this year ; but I can bring you into relations with people who will be only too glad to avail themselves of your services at the first opportunity. These people are conspirators. I don't know whether you object to that." ♦• Why the deuce should I object ? " returned Archie. " All I ask for is a pretty good hope of getting shot. I'm willing to conspire against anybody, except the Queen." Mark smiled. ** You will be asked, to conspire against the so-called Prince of Bulgaria," he said, •' or at least to help in carry- ing out the designs of those who are conspiring against him. He is not a very interesting personage ; he has no sort of Dusiness to be where he is, and I am assured that the majority of his people would be glad to be rid of him. However that may be, his dethronement would be prob- ably followed by a Russian occupation, and then the fire would be started. If fighting is what you want, you would be likely to get plenty of it, supposing that you could be at Sofia in a quasi-military capacity at the right moment. Only you have to swear blind obedience to your employers ; otherwise they will have nothing to do with you. I my- self have done the same thing ; and if they call upon me I shall have to go, little as I care about such matters now- adays." ** What do you mean by blind obedience ? " inquired Archie. '• I suppose they won't order me to assassinate anybody, will they ? " Upon my word I don't know," answered Mark ; " I made very few inquiries when I took my oath of allegi- ance. I believe that one is bound to carry out any order that one may receive ; but I presume that, in selecting as- assins, they generally make choice of some otherwise use- less person. You, as an ex-cavalry officer, would not be at all useless, and it seems unlikely they would waste you ill tliat manner. I wouldn't answer for them, though, and 1 ;wii sure that they would have no scruple about putting aii ciui to any person whom they wanted out of the way." i 1 1 MISADVENTURE. 2 the Priory ; he was even advised as to the terms in which he should let the servants know that he would require a dog- cart to take him to the station in the morning. It all sounded very sensible and practical and Chetwode, if not »' '•■I ST mm 268 MISA.DVENTURE II r !;■ I. %' ' particularly sympathetic, was doubtless doing the bcFt in his power to befriend one who could not benefit much by any friendly offices. He sat with Mark until the night was far advanced, so as to give Cicely and Miss Skipwith plenty of time to retire to bed ; he heard a good dea! about the state of feeling in the Danubian Principalities, and gathered that, although his companion was no en- thusiastic believer in Panslavism, the adherents of that cause were numerous and powerful enough to disturb the peace of Europe. *' At least," Mark said in conclusion, ** I can promise you that there will be a big fight some day, and all the information that I have had points to its taking place soon. How it is to be begun, I don't know; but in all probabilil}' a rising or mutiny in Bulgaria will be the first step. Now I will wish you good-by,.;, Bligh, and if you won't think I mean to be ironical, I will wish you good luck, too. We may meet again under more exciting cir- cumstances — who knows? But if we don't, you may at any rate trust me to keep your secret." Archie thanked him, without any mental reservation, and went av»^ay. He was too wretched and down-hearted to suspect treachery ; nor did he see how Chetwode could have acted otherwise than as he had done. For his own part, a stray bullet was all that he asked of Fortune, and that modest aspiration was pretty sure to be fulfilled, he thought. No hitch occurred in the programme that had been sketched out for him. It was between twelve and one o'clock when he arrived at the Priory and gave the requisite order to a sleepy footman. During the night he packed up a few of his belongings and slept a little, and long before Cicely was stirring the next day he had taken his last farewell of her and of home. It may be that he had capitulated too readily; but no one can give himself qualities which are foreign to his nature. AH his life long Archie had been subject to the influence of those into whose companionship he had been thrown, and it would be as absurd to blame him for tak- ing Mark Chetwode's advice as to blame a blind man for allowing himself to be led into a ditch. MISADVENTURE. 2(10 CHAPTER XXXIV. MARK S OPPORTUNITY. That Providence ever intervenes in human affairs wa- a doctrine which Mark Chetvvode held to be a mere super stition ; for he considered that all evidence and experience^ go to prove the contrary. Since, however, most people find it necessary to believe that their destinies are ruled by somebody or somethinjjf beyond their control, he, who had at one period of his life been a great gambler, had learnt to believe firmly in runs of good and ill luck. Of the former he had hitherto had very much less than his fair share ; but now the tide seemed to have turned, and it Ixihoved him to take full advantage of it before the ebb should set in once more. On the morninor after his lonf his Irevo- of :ount that ^hich )bots- To lusive proof of the soundness of that theory, and it must be con- fessed that it made her quite as angry as Madame Soura- vieff had anticipated that it would. Anger was, indeed, the only emotion, except astonishment, to which she was moved by it. She neither believed that Archie was " miserable " — that was the sort of assertion that he was bound to make under such circumstances — nor felt any pity for one who, as she supposed, had been entrapped by a designing and unscrupulous woman. To some extent he might have been a victim, but it w.?.s evident that he had not been a very unwilling one, And now it was necessary to face the distasteful dut> of announcing that slit; had been jilted to her relatives and friends, beginning with Miss Skipwiih. This, like other distasteful duties, did not gain in attractiveness by being contemplated ; so that Cicely determined to take the first plunge without Jelay. She inarched straight ii^to the Httle morning-room, where Miss Skip with was generally to be found, busily engaged in doing nothing, and said : - " Aunt Susan I have come to tell you that my engagement is at an end. I have just had a letter from Archie, who says that for some time past he has doubted whether we could have l)een happy together ; and as I myself have felt the same doubt, it is certainly better that we should part. He thinks of going abroad ; so that I hope there will not be much awkwardness or discomfort about it." Miss Skipvvith was overjoyed ; but at the same time she felt that it would be contrary to all tradition and propriety to let so serious a matter as the rupture of an engagement to pass without consternation. She therefore threw up her hands and ejaculated : — "Oh, my dear child, how very dreadful!" *• It may be," answered Cicely, calmly, " but I doubt whether you think so. Aunt Susan, you never liked tiie engagement, you know and you wished me to break it off." " Yes, my dear; but I never expressed a wish that he should break it off; that is a very different thing. I must say that his behaviour is altogether inexplicable to me. What can be his motive ?" "Oh, the usual and quite sufficient one — incompatibility ^^^^ 276 MISADVENTUIU:, I I I ) of temper," answered Cicely. " We have found out our mistake in time ; let us be thankful for that and say no more about it." And she refused to make any response to the questions and surmises of her aunt, who thought her rather hard and unfeeling. The truth of the matter was that the girl was beginning to feel very sore. She had loved Archie in one sense, if not in another ; she had firmly believed in his love for her ; and to be rejected is agreeable to nobody. But it was impossible to open her heart to her aunt, who would never understand her, so presently she slipped out of the house and, sitting down in a shady corner of the garden, felt miserably sad and lonely. All her life she had been more lonely than most girls, though she had scarcely been aware of the tact. While her father had lived she had had a friend who was always kind, always sympathetic and able to enter into all her joys and sorrows without saying much about them, but now he had been taken from her and there was nobody — absolutely nobody — left. The most self-reliant of mortals must feel the need of com- panionship sometimes, and Cicely felt it bitterly now. The stars in their courses were fighting for Mark Chetwode, who was well enough acquainted with the weaknesses and necessities of human nature to know that his opportunity was at hand. CHAPTER XXXV. SYMPATHY. The nineteenth century has its drawbacks ; but it also its conspicuous advantages, amongst which ought surely to be numbered the almost universal use of tobacco. How in the world did our ancestors manage to get on without it ? How do women manage to get through life and pre- serve their serenity (but, to be sure, they don't always) without it now ? For reasons which must be obvious to everybody, one hesitates to advocate the adoption of smoking among young and pretty women ; yet it seems MISADVENTURE. 277 it our ay no stions hard inning nse, if r her ; it was would ; of the. ;arden, d been :arcely red she athetic vithout ;n from :. The of com- y now. ■ Mark ith the DW that o t it also it surely How without nd pre- always) vious to ption of it seems I certain that upon them no less than upon us nicotine would exercise a beneficent influence as a sedative to the nerves and an incentive to broad and philosophic views of the accidents of existence. If Cicely's meditations in the garden had been accompanied and soothed by a cigarette, she would perhaps have recognised that it is human to be inconstant ; that loves and friendships come and go as the sun rises and sets and the years pass on ; that very little of what happens to us is of any consequence ; that it is hardly worth while to be angry with anybody for being what nature made him, and other facts equally indisput- able and consolatory. But either because she was denied the blessing conferred upon mankind by Sir Walter Raleigh, or by reason of her youth, or on account of some inherent defect in her individuality, she was unable to to resign hers "If with a shrug of her shoulders to the state of things in the present and the prospect of the future. Both struck her as eminently discouraging, dispiriting and of a nature to undermine all belief in the race to which \vv belong. Whatever might be supposed or thouglit of Archie, nobody, surely, would have supposed him to be other than a straightforward, honourable man ; if he was not to be trusted, who was ? She thought over the list ol her acquaintances — a tolerably long one — and in not on(> of them, except Bobby Dare, could she feel absolutely convinced that there was no guile. But poor, iionest Bobby was far away, fighting the battle of humanity against the slave-trade, so that for all practical purposes he had to be dismissed as non-existent. Aunt Susan, of course, was honest enough according to her own lights, but Aunt Susan's lights were a little dim, and her vision was so obscured by prejudices of different kinds that il was almost necessary to hold her at arm's length. During luncheon, accordingly. Miss Skipwith was held at arm's length, and was proportionately aggrieved. She felt constrained to say : — " I know very well, my dear, that you are keeping something back from me. I am not inquisitive, and 1 do not ask your confidence ; still you might remember that I have always loved you as if you were my own child, though you may never have looked upon me as any sub- stitute for your mother," 278 MISADVENTURE, Cicely could only declare that she was concealin<^' nothirif,' and had said all that there was to say. She was sorry to appear unkind ; but there was no help for it. As a confidant, Aunt Susan really would not do. As soon as possible she made her escape and, returning to her old post in the garden, gave herself up once more to moralis- ing of a sad and cynical character. Some very enviable people are able to derive much placid enjoyment from absolute idleness ; but Cicely was not one of these. Like a great many dogs and the gener- ality of horses and all servants, she went fo the bad when she had no work to do, and she had fretted herself into a condition of utter disgust with everything and everybody by the time that the butler came ambling across the grass to inquire whether she would see Mr. Chetwode, who was at the front door. It was only after some seconds of deli- beration that she replied : — '* Yes. Ask him to come out here, please." She was not sure that she particularly wanted to see Mark for his own sake, but she did rather particularly want to hear whether he could throw any light upon the origin of recent events, and she thought it by no means improbable that he had called for the purpose of so doing. Mark's visit, it need scarcely be said, had been prompted by that kindly intention. Presently he stepped out of the sunlight into the shade, holding his hat in one hand and extending the other, while upon his features was discernible just so much regret and anxiety as could be expressed without risk of impertinence. Cicely saw at a glance that he was aware of what had occurred, and she did not care to fence with him. " I suppose you know,'" she began almost mimediately, " that Archie has gone away ? " He made a sign of assent with some apparent reluct- ance, and allowed a short space of time to elapse before he said : — " Yes, I knew that he meant to go. In fact, he came to see me the night before last and told me that he did." " And did he tell you why he was going ? " asked Cicely ; for she had made up her mind that if Archie had not done so, sht. would. Mark had seated himself in a wicker chair close to MISADVENTUBE. 279 hers, and was gravely contemplating a bed of scarlet ver bcnas at hf§ I'cet. " Well, no," he answered ; " I can't say that he ex- actly did that ; but from what he did tell me, I understood tliat he was going away for a long lime." *• He is not coming back at all," said Cicely quietly. " As our engagement has been broken off, he cannot stay here for the present, and he speaks as if he would never stay here again." Mark glanced quickly up. " I am not surprised," he said, " and it would be use- less affectation to pretend that I am sorry. I once took the liberty of expressing my opinion about your engage- ment to him at the risk of giving great offence, and what has happened since then hasn't changed my opinion. I can't help being glad you are free — though, if it makes you unhappy, I am very sorry for that." " It does make me unhappy," Cicely confessed. " I have no doubt that you were right in thinking that our engagement could not end happily ; I have thought the same thing myself of late. Still I can't feel satisfied with the way in which it has come to an end." *• Oh, no," agreed Mark, shaking his head ; " you can't, of course, feel satisfied with that." ♦* You see," Cicely went on — for, notwithstanding her recent pessimistic cogitations, she believed Mark to be a true friend, and although he said so little, there was some- thing in his manner which seemed to show that he could fully enter into her feelings — " you see, it isn't as though Archie were no r»lati(?n of mine. In a glpat many ways he was more like my brother than my cousin, and I thought 1 knew him thoroughly, and now I find that I didn't know him at all. The Archie whom I knew would never have acted as he has done," she added rather pathetically. Mark still remained silent. Cicely gathered from his expression that he hesitatated to put his thoughts into words, so she said : — " I don't at all mind talking about it. If you are any better informed than I am, you would do me a kindness by telling me what you have heard." " I don't know how far your information goes, Miss m ^^^^ m IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) >' Mp^ (Pr 1.0 I.I lltt IIIIIM llill |||||22 ,40 mil 2.0 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 ^ 6" - ► .<^ ^^'- & % /. '^A o 7 /A Photographic Sciences Corporation fv d V ^^ \ \ -Co o^ \j 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14580 (716) 872-4503 'h V I c^- w. FF^ 280 MISADVENTUBE. Mi^ Bligh/' answered Mark ; " mine — that is all that I had from your cousin — simply amounts to this. He came to my lodgings in a rather excited state to wish me good- bye " •* On his way from Madame SouraviefF's ? " interrupted Cicely. ♦* Had he been there ? It was late when he arrived and he did not stay long. He said he wanted to wish me good-bye, as we should probably never meet again, and then he made some confused statement about his leaving England for good. I did not press him to explain himself, because, to tell the truth, I hardly needed an explanation. I quite understood all that he didn't say." " Did you ? I don't think I do," observed Cicely, after a short pause. " It seems to me a little incompre- hensible, in spite of what you told me that afternoon on the beach. I doii't mean that Archie's dissatisfaction is incomprehensible, for I suppose that all men naturally wish to be masters in the house where they have to live ; but it wasn't only because he was dissatisfied that he went away." '* Oh, he had a more powerful reason, no doubt. In one way that reason is quite as incomprehensible to me as it can be tc you ; but in another way it isn't. I have seen the same kind of thing occur so often before that I can't regard it as an extraordinary phenomenon, though I admit that it. js not easily accounted for. Perhaps the truth is that our weak point is our vanity, and that any woman who is not positively ugly and is clever enough to flatter us in the right way can make fools of us. I speak with all the humility of one who has been made a fool of in his day," added Mark, with a slight laugh. *• And by the same person ? " " By the same person. When I first met Madame SouraviefF I was a thoroughly miserable man — even more miserable in some respects than I am now. I had wasted my life in the society of people whose only object was to amuse themselves and who never succeeded ; I had wasted my small fortune in gambling and my time in a monotonous round of dancing, dining, and flirting. I was utterly sick of it all. I myself was just as selfish and stupid and bored as my so-caikd friends, only I was a shade worse off than MISADVENTURE. 281 they were, because I was less resigned. As a matter of course, I fell without a struggle to save myself, under the influence of a woman who lived in the world, yet seemed to have ideas and ideals and enthusiasms which the world, in a social sense, usually laughs at. But perhaps this fragment of autobiography doesn't interest you ? " " It interests me very much," said Cicely. " Please go on." •' Well, I became Madame Souravieffs most ardent admirer. I won't say that I fell in love with her, because I have since reason to believe that I did not know what love was at that time, but at any rate I thought myself in love with her. Perhaps I did not altogether agree with her political opinions ; but that did not prevent me from placing myself unreservedly at her disposition and joining the secret societies which she asked me to join and believ- ing in her sincerity, if I didn't believe very much in the triumph of her schemes. As far as that goes, I believe in her sincerity still. She really loves Russia and really thinks that Russia has a sacred mission to drive the infidel out of Europe. Whether she and her friends will help Russia by stirring up premature disturbances in Servia and Bulgaria is, of course, another question. What cap- tivated me, and what may perhaps nave captivated your cousin, was her courage and a sort of sanguine cheer iness which never deserted her, and above all, the conviction which she was pleased to profess that nobody could serve her and her cause as well as I could." All this was perfectly true ; so that there was no need for any skill on Mark's part in order to lend an air of verisimilitude to a narrative which did not fail to impress his hearer. " Yes," she said ; " but you are half a Russian and have lived in Russia. Archie is an Englishman, if ever there was one." Mark drew down the corners of his mouth and jerked up his shoulders. •' Under certain circumstances," he rem?.r^ed, " one might be persuaded to consider oneself a Chmaman." " Then if Archie has been what you call captivated, it is by Madame Souravieff herself, not by her political ideas." nr fi 282 MISADVENTURE. ( fill fiii HI ; " I can*t tell ; she has many methods, but always one dominant aim, and it would not surprise me in the least if the next news that you had from your cousin reached you from Bulgaria. It is probable that she will very soon forget all about him now. She has scored a signal victory, and that ought to satisfy her." *• She is a very bad woman I " exclaimed Cicely suddenly. " Not so very, I think. Her impression, you may be sure, is that she has done you a service, and in all truth and honesty I can't but agree with her." •* And what about Archie ? You seem as ready to for- get him as you say that she is." " I own that I haven't much compassion for him. I may be unduly partial to myself, but my case strikes me as a very different one from his. Madame Souravieff found me virtually alone in the world ; she might have turned me round her little finger if she had been much less pretty and pleasant and kind than she was, and I really don't think that I have been very much to blame. But what is there to be said for your cousin, who had everything that a man could wish or hope for, and deliberately threw it all away because he was silly enough to believe that a woman ten years older than himself appreciated him more than you did ? I can forgive him, because his loss is your gain, but as for pitying him, I should have to see things in quite another light before I could do that." Cicely herself did not find it easy to pity Archie or to j)iead extenuating circumstances on his behalf. All that she could say was : — " It may be quite true that Madame Souravieff appre- ciated him more than I did. I was very fond of him and I am so still ; but I never cared for him in the way that he professed to care for me, and I never pretended that I did." •' Ah 1 " ejaculated Mark, drawing a long breath. " There is ro harm in my admitting that, now that it is all over," Cicely went on. " I suppose I ought not to have accepted him at all, but he wished it, and my father wished it. There was so much to be said in favour of the marriage and so very little against it," Mark nodded. MISADVENTURE. 28d lys one e least eached :y soon dctory, Cicely may be ill truth f to for- him. I ikes me iff found ; turned is pretty lly don't ; what is ling that threw it I that a im more 5 is your hings in lie or to All that appre- Ihim and that he that I Ith. that it it not to ^y father ivour of K At any rate," he observed presently, '• you must be glad to feel that you have nothing to reproach yourself with, and if you will pardon my saying so, I am very glad to feel that your future is now at your own disposition again. . You were going to dispose of it after a fashion wliich would have made you wretched ; it is something to know that that danger is past, whatever other dangers may be coming." Another danger was doubtless at hand ; but Cicely did not perceive it, nor was her companion prudent enough to give her any premature warning of its ap- proach. For the present he was content to play the part of a sincere and sympathising friend ; in which character she was very willing to welcome him. He left her decid- edly more cheerful than he found her, and before he went away, he ventured to impress upon her the advisability of bringing no accusation, direct or indirect, against Madame SouravieflF. '* She would only deny all knowledge of the fugitive," he observed ; *' and I am afraid that perhaps she would exult over you a little." This caution, which had the efifect of making Cicely laugh for the first time, was, it need hardly be said, super- fluous; but Mark — as indeed had been shown by his de- meanour throughout the interview — was a very cautious man. CHAPTER XXXVL AN ATHLETIC MEETING. Cicely was not a little surprised by the* calmness with which Archie's desertion of her was generally acquiesced in. Being quite unaware that for some time past every- body had been saying to everybody else that this kind of thing really couldn't go on much longer, you know, she gave her neighbours credit for more tact and good feeling than they possessed and was grateful to them for sparing her the condolences which she had dreaded. She made no secret of the fact that her engagement was broken off. 284 MISADVENTURE. 5 I i 1 M" i That was an announcement which must of necessity be made sooner or laler and might just as well be made at once. Besides, Aunt Susan, who had suddenly remem- bered that she owed a great many visits, would not have found it possible to hold her peace, even if she had been requested to do so. Those were days of much quiet enjoyment for Miss Skipwith. The old lady drove about from house to house telling her tale in low, confidential tones and claiming — as indeed no one could disj)Ute her right to do — that from the very outset she had had a bad opinion of " Mr. Archibald Bligh." That the very last thing she had ever expected him to do was to renounce the brilliant prospect for which she had believed him to have schemed was a matter of detail upon which she laid no stress. Unprincipled people can only act in an unprincipled way, and whether their lack of principle may cause them to drift north, south, east or west is evidently a mere question of the set of the prevailing wind. Now all Miss Skipwith's friends agreed with her in thinking that this misguided young man would be found to have shaped his course toward the southeastward, and they were very sure that somebody else, not less unprincipled, would shortly set sail for a similar destination. It had leaked out that Madame Souravieff was upon the -oomt of quitting Upton Ch°twode, and for some reason or other the gossips had become imbued with the conviction that Archie was to await her arrival in Paris. This was very sad and very bad ; still things might doubtless have been worse. They would have been a great deal worse, for example, if the disgraceful affair had occurred after Cicely's marriage instead of before it, and one could not be thankful enough that the poor girl had escaped so terrible a danger. The good people of the vicinity had, therefore, excellent reasons for refraining from condoling with her, in addition to one which they would not willingly have admitted ; namely, that they were all a little fright- tened of the young heiress. A solitary exception was found in the person of Mr. Lowndes, who neither feared anybody (unless perhaps his wife, at times) nor was disposed to believe in state- ments which struck iiiiii as well ni^h incredible. He MISADVENTURE. 2b5 went over to the Priory and had a long talk with Cicely, whom, however, he did not succeed in persuading that Archie was the victim of some misunderstanding or intrigue." " But, my dear girl," he exclaimed, somewhat im- patiently, '* you must know as well as I do that the poor lad is incapable of such conduct ! If anybody were to tell you that I had been seen drunk in the pulpit, would you believe it ?" •' I should have to believe it if I saw it with my own eyes," answered Cicely ; and to put an end to further discussion, she produced her cousin's letter, which cer- tainly appeared to be convincing, yet failed to convince the stubborn Rector. Mr. Lowndes, therefore, wrote a kindly letter to Archie's club in London, but received no reply ; and so in a surprisingly short space of time the luckless fellow was dismissed from the minds of those amongst whom he had seemed destined to spend the remainder of his life. It is true that he had never taken any great pains to make himself popular. Mark Chetwode fiid not think he would promote his own interest by becoming a frequent visitor to the Priory ; but he managed without much exercise of ingenuity to meet Miss Bligh every day ; and what proved these encounters to be quite unpremeditated was they took place in the most improbable spots. Once it was in a back-alley of Abbotsport ; once it was in the pine-wood adjoining the Upton Chetwode Park ; once it was in a deserted timbei yard outside the village, whether she had betaken herselt for a little quiet meditation, and where he assuredly could not have dreamt of coming across her — unless^ indeed he had been watching her movements from round the corner, which, as a matter of fact, was precisely what he had been doing. She began to look forward to seeing this grave, reserved friend, who may possibly have realised what an extremely interesting quality reserve is. He always implied a good deal more than he said, the advan- tage of that method bemg that the implications are usually understood by the person to whom they are addressed, but neither you nor that person need accept any responsibility for them. It pleased Cicely to ignore the humble ador* •i80 MtSAhVKNTfftfc. atioii at which Mark liintcl ; hut she was vcr} well aware that he admired lier and saw no reason why he should not. a great many people having done that without any bad consequences to themselves. She was accustomed to the admiration of men, and his was not the less agreeable to her because it had been so long withheld. What she was quite unconscious of was that she was falling into the habit of asking for Mark's advice and taking it. To be sure, he was careful to make his advice chime in with what he believed to be her inclinations ; but, • whether intentionally or not, he was gradually assuming a certain air of authority in giving his opinion which she did not dislike. " Oh, I think you ought to be there," he said decisively one afternoon, when she told him that she had doubts about attending the annual athletic meeting which her father had instituted for the benefit of the Abbotsport young men, and at which she had always hitherto given away the prizes; "you will disappoint them if you don't show yourself, and nobody will take your appearance as an intimation that you wish to go into society again." •' That is what I was not quite sure about," answered Cicely hesitatingly. " It has grown to be quite a large affair now, and the whole county comes to it." " But who will present the prizes if you do not ? Miss Skijuvith ? • Cicely laughed. '• No ; I am afraid that would hardly do," she answered. " Besides, nothing would induce Aunt Susan to make her- self vSo conspicuous. I suppose I had better go through it ; though it will be a littla bit of an ordeal." " You are one of those people who never shirk ordeals," observed Mark meditatively ; and he thought to himself that it would be no bad plan to let the county see him standing at Miss Bligh's elbow on the occasion of the prize-giving. Public opinion is not of much value, still it is always more or less desirable that one's position should be recognised. Thus it came to pass that when the A.A.C. (Abbotsport Athletic Club) held its summer meeting, Cicely, dressed in the deepest of mourning, took her accustomed place in the front of the covered platform which had been erected MISADVENTURE. 287 I awaie lid not. ny bad I to the 2able to she was ice and s advice IS ; but, uming a 1 she did ecisively i doubts hich her ibot sport to given ou don't nee as an nsvvered t a large Miss Inswered. lake her- through lordeals," himself see him of the e, still it n should In poisport dressed [place in erected for the accommodation of distinguished patrons. The performances, if not quite up to the Lillie Bridge standard, \Nere creditable enough, considering that not even the in- fluence of Mr. Bligh had ever availed to persuade the Ab- botsport lad of the necessity of going into training ; and ihe weather was fine, and the squires and squiresses from far and near had driven over to smile benignly upon the competitors. Among the last to arrive were the Dares, whom Cicely had not expected to see, and who greeted her with much warmth. Tiiey had only reached home on the previous evening, they explained, and as soon as Sir George and Lady Dare had turned away to make civil speeches to other neighbours, Miss Jane came to the front. Miss Jane's manner was unwontedly cordial and confi- dential. She said : — " My dear Cicely, I am so glad you are here. I was half afraid that you wouldn't be, and I have such a num- ber of things to tell you about. Wouldn't you like to take a turn round the ground ? " Cicely had no objection. She had lived for so many weeks in comparative solitude that she was bewildered and distressed by the hum of voices round her and the inces- sant stretching forth of hands which she was obliged to shake. "Well, first of all," began Miss Dare, when they had passed outside the circle of spectators, " I must tell you that Bobby is coming home and may arrive any day. It seems that the wounds which he received in that affair where he behaved so splendidly were really more serious than was represented. At any rate, they haven't healed properly, and he has been ordered out of that hot climate on sick leave." Cicely said she was glad that Bobby was coming back to England, but sorry for the cause of his return. " Oh," said Miss Dare, " we are not at all alarmed about him ; a little care and nursing will soon put him right, we hope ; it was on his account that we hurried home from Wiesbaden, instead of going on to Switzerland, as usual, for my father to recruit himself after the baths. And whom do you think that we made acquaintance with at Wiesbaden ? No less a person than Count Souravieff, the husband of that detestable woman 1 " (V- ess MISADVENTURE " So I heard from the detestable woman herself," re- marked Cicely. " At least she told us that she had had a letter from her husband, and as he seemed to know all that was taking place here, we presumed that he must have met you." •♦ You don't mean to say that she mentioned her hus- band to you ? What impudence ! It appears that she had completely deceived the poor old man as to her where- abouts, and he was in a great state of mind when he heard that she was actually living in Mr. Chetwode's house. Mamma is so very sorry now that she called upon her." " I don't think Lady Dare need regret it on Mr. Chet- wode's account," said Cicely. " He has only a friendly regard for his tenant — if he has that." " Well, not on Mr. Chetwode's account only, of course," answered Miss Dare, with a tentative side-glance at her companion ; " but — but really she seems to be such a dreadful woman altogether. Cicely dear, I wonder whether you will mind my saying how very sorry I was to hear ot the way in which your engagement to your cousin had ended." " Not in the least," replied Cicely ; " it makes a pleas- ant change. Up to now, nobody, except Mr. Lowndes, has expressed anything but satisfaction that it had come to an end." Miss Dare pointed out that what had moved her to sorrow was the matter in which the rupture had occurred, not the rupture itself, ♦* which I couldn't honestly pretend to regret. And are you still upon speaking terms with Madame SouraviefF?" she inquired with some curiosity. " I haven't seen her for some little time," answered Cicely : *' but I am on speaking terms with her, as far as I know. Why should I not be ? " Miss Dare, being a matter-of-fact person, was about to reply to this question when she was checked. " Of course I understand what you mean," Cicely said; " but I don't know and don't want to know whether there is any truth in what you seem to have heard. Archie and I are not going to be married because we agreed that we should disagree as husband and wife ; that is reason enc«igh for our having parted, I suppose. Now I think we ought to be going back to the stand" MISADVENTURE. 2sn It was indeed about time to do so, for now the last race li?d been run and the last attempt to accomplish the liij^li jump had failed, and Mr. Lowndes was clearing his voici in preparation for the speech in which he proposed t( announce that Miss Bligh had very kindly consented to hand the prizes to those who had so well earned them. Nobody could be better qualified than Cicely to discharge this duty. Being, as she was, personally acquaiited with the winners, she knew exactly what to say to them and was able to dismiss each in turn with a satisfied grin upon his face. Mark Chetwode, who had arrived somewhat late, had taken up his station close behind her and handed her the cups, clocks and other useful and ornamental objects as they were required. Some people, amongst whom was Miss Dare, thought this a rather forward proceeding on Mr. Chetwode's part and exchanged whispered observations about him which were neither kind nor complimentary ; but their criticisms were diverted into another channel when a certain showy victoria, which everybody recognised, was seen advancing at a brisk pace across the grass outside the enclosure. *' Surely," exclaimed everybody, ** she will never have the face I " But secretly everybody hoped that she would; because, however much one may deprecate brazen assur- ance in the abstract, there is no denying that a flagrant exhibition of it affords a certain degree of pleasurable excitement to spectators. Of that pleasure and excitement Madame Souravieflf had no intention of depriving the assembled company. Strictlj' speaking, she was scarcely entitled to demand admittance to a stand which was supposed to be reserved for subscribers ; but her claim was not disputed. The two rural constables who guarded the entrance saluted her respectfully as she swept past them, and presently she appeared in the midst of the gathering of notables, all eyes being turned upon her with glances of mingled curi- osity and hostility. Lady Dare's bow was quite a work of art in its way. She managed it by straightening her shoulders, throwmg her head back and then very slightly bending her neck, at the same time sticking her chin out and lowering her eyelids. In large cities, where people perhaps have not time to study niceties of demeanour, I ■ ti r F 7-" 200 MISADVENTURE. >iich appalling salutations are not common ; but in the provinces they may be seen from time to time, and the effect of them is enough to crush all heart out of the most audacious. If Madame Souravieff was not crushed, it was because she was too preoccupied to notice anything more than that some dowdy old woman or other was bowing to her. She made her way at once to the front of the platform, where Mark was standing beside the red-covered table, and the moment that Mark saw her face he knew that she was in one of her most dangerous moods. What had occurred to irritate her he had no idea ; but very evident it was that she was irritated — which was as much as to say that she was reckless. She pushed past him, taking no heed of the detaining hand which he stretched out, and with a smiling face, but somewhat harsh voice, greeted Cicely, who was a little startled, having had no warning of her approach. •' How do you do, Miss Bligh ? I could not deny my- self the pleasure of assisting at this idyllic fete. You are bestowing rewards, I see, upon the successful gymnasts. And have you no reward for your clever assistant, Mr. Chetvvode ? He is modest ; he keeps himself in the back- ground ; yet I know nobody who can perform more re- markable gymnastics than he. I mean moral gymnastics ; but those are perhaps the most difficult, after all." Cicely looked surprised, but only said, rather coldly : " How do you do, Madame Souravieff ? " That was, no doubt, the best answer that she could make, and the expectant magnates, who had eagerly watched the encounter, without hearing what passed be- tween the two ladies, exchanged approving glances, feeling that their representative had so far had the best of it. The next minute Cicely had to present a beaker to a blushing young giant who held an enormous pair of hands to receive it, so that Madame Souravieff was prevented from continuing her remarks. Before she could commit herself further Mark stepped up to her and, with his usual impassive countenance, said in Russian : " Do you wish to appear perfectly ridiculous in the presence of a number of people who are longing for an excuse to laugh at you ? If not, prrhaps you will tell ms \yhat is the matter belore you maku a scene," MlSADVKNTt'RK. 201 She replied in a low, fierce tone, and in the same lan^uH^e : ♦• You arc tryinf,' to play your gainc without me ; you have told me lies. That was not wise Oi you, my friend." " It might have been even less wise to tell you the truth," observed Mark coolly. *♦ At any rate you had better give me a chance of hearing your explanation and offering mine. I will drive back with you when thi^ busi ness is over, if you will allow me. And if you cann- here for the purpose of denouncing me to Miss Hligh, I may remind you that that can be done quite as well to-morrow as to-day." "I think," said Madarue Souravicff •• that you would be rightly served if I were to do it now.' •'Possibly; ihough I do not know why. The effect would be dramatic, I daresay; onlv it might pIjO be a trifle grotesque, might it not ? " Madame Souravieff sighed and yieldecL She had quite meani to be dramatic; I)ut she did n^u particularly wish to be grotesque, and Mark's composure chilled her. So she sat down in a chair which he obligingly pushed for- ward, and the proceedings terminated with a tamenoss which was rather disappointing to some of the lookers-on. itl u 'I .t Jl it ly CHAPTER XXXVII. THE MEMORY OF THE PAST, The explanation which Mark Chetwode had suggested of Archie's sudden disappearance had not been altogether disagreeable to Madame Souravieff, although she had not, of course, believed in it. Her own impression was that the young man had gone off in a fit of irritation, and would probably return ere long in a penitent frame of mind. Meanwhile her vanity was flattered by what had appeared very like a slight exhibition of jealousy on Mark's part. But on the day of the Abbotsport athletic meeting she received a letter from an intimate friend in '■* ; h-ii 292 MISADVENTURE. B I i i i 11 i i London which caur^'sd her to view the situation in a very different light. *• What strange people you a^d Mr. Chetwode are ! " this friend wrote, " and what strange recruits you manage to get hold of ! Frankly, my dear — what his this poor, innocent, stupid young Englishman done to you ? That is a question which you will not answer, I suppose, though you know I am as discreet as I am inquisitive. But at least do not tell me that he is animated by ardour for the great cause, or that you have persuaded him to adopt ideas which certain politicians in this country have gravely accepted from you. No, no ; that really will not do ! I grant you the politicians, who are ignorant and self-com- placent enough to believe in anything ; but a simple soldier, who relies upon the evidence of his own senses and could never be made to understand how black can be white — allons done ! And you take no half-measures with him either ; he has gone all lengths, I understand. What surprises me is that you should have been able to induce the persons whom we know of to accept him. It is true that you are better acquainted with those persons and their requirements than I am ; for I, as you are aware, do not propose to go all lengths. I only saw this Mr. Bligh for a few minutes — a nice young man, with a countenance of the deepest despair and an air of being tired of life. Well, if he wishes somebody to relieve him of that burden, one must confess that he has been fortunate in falling in with the right sort of friends." These observations infuriated Madame Souravieff all the more because she was no better informed than her correspondent as to their exact significance. It was a sore point with her that, for all her plotting and schem- ing, she had never been fully trusted by those who made use of her talents. The mysterious persons alluded to were really mysterious to her ; she held no direct com- munication with them, she was only allowed occasional glimpses of their plans, and it had galled her that her protege, Mark Chetwode, was admitted into inner circles from which she herself was excluded. And a noble use he seemed to have made of his privileges ! Naturally, what most excited Madame Souravieff's wrath was to find that she had been tricked and that Mark was so desper- MISADVENTURE. 293 a very nanage s poor, That though But at for the ) adopt gravely do! I elf-com- simple I senses £ can be res with . What induce t is true ons and ware, do [r. Bligh ktenance of hfe. burden, ailing in ivieff all lan her was a schem- lo made uded to ;ct com- :casional that her r circles oble use aturally, as to find desper- ately eager to get rid of his rival ; but in addition to that, le means which indignation he had adopted to secure his end. One may be a con- spirator without being an assassin. The upshot of some stormy self-communings was that she resolved to present herself at the athletic sports in the manner described. And it was with the full intention of making a scene that she had herself driven thither. What did she care for the amazement or consternation of the assembled company ? She was going away from the place ; she would never see these people again ; they might say and think just what they pleased about her. Only Mark should be taught that it was dangerous to play a double game with the woman whom he had pretended to love. As has been seen, she abandoned her spirited pro- gramme because her heart failed her at the last moment, but she was determined to have it out with Mark, and no sooner had he seated himself beside her in her victoria than she began : — " Why did you not tell me that it was you who sent young Bligh away ? Why did you not tell me what you had done with him ? Was it because you knew that I should never consent to his being employed in such a manner ? Was it because you knew that, whatever I may be, I am not a cold-blooded murderess ? " ♦* Before I answer your questions, Olga," replied Mark, composedly, " you will perhaps allow me to put one to you. In what manner do you imagine that Bligh is to be employed ? " " Oh, as to that, there is no need to waste words. I received information from London to-day — ^you might have guessed that I should — and you cannot deceive me. The man has got his death-warrant." " Indeed ? If so, I can only say that I am quite unaware of it. There is a chance, but not a very strong one, I should think, that he will take part in some desul- tory fighting before long, and of course he may be shot ; but that can scarcely be regarded as equivalent to a death- warrant. If you have heard of his being threatened with any greater danger, you know more than I do.** Now Madame Souraviefif, having no certain knowledge t .1, in ■ ! « i m n 2<)4 MISADVENTURE. l:< of what was implied in "going all lengths," was a litt!e afraid that she would he laughed at if she gave expression to her conjectures. Therefore she only said : — " Why should he be expected to run the risk of being shot in such a cause ? What has he to do with Bul- garia ? " Mark shrugged his shoulders. " Oh, nothing. I sometimes ask myself what I have to do with Bulgaria ; yet I suppose it is upon the cards that I may be shot some day in that interesting country. To be sure, I know very well for whose sake it was that I took cert-^in engagements upon me; and I am not con- vinced that Bligh's case differs very greatly from my own." " You cannot put me off by talking what you and I know is nonsense. You have sent him out there because you love that girl, and because you are afraid of him and hope that he will be killed." " Oh, very well ; if you choose to say so ! Only I don't know how you suppose that I can have prevailed upon him to be so accommodating." " That is what you will have to explain to me ; but you cannot deny that this is your doing. And why did you conceal the truth from me ? " " For the simple reason that he made me promise not to reveal it. 1 told you that he came to me in a very excited and incoherent condition. He said he was going away for good and all, and he expressed a wish to see some active service : so I gave him what help I could by writing introductions for him to our triends in London. Of course I was bound to respect his secret, since he made a point of it ; but, as you observed just now, it was obvious that you would very soon hear what had become of him." •' I do not believe," said Madame Souravieff, speaking very slowly, ** that you are telling me the truth even now." Mark raised his eyes and scrutinised her steadily for a moment. How would it do to let her hear the real cause of Archie's flight ? Had he felt that it was at all possible to trust lier, he would have done so ; but she was so capricious and so apt to lose her self-control that she might at any moment blurt out what she knew, and — oddly enough, as many people would think — it was for Archie's sake that he decided to hold his peace. That MISADVENTURE. 295 I little ession t being 1 Bul- I have ! cards ountry. itliat I ot con- j own." 1 and I because lim and I don't id upon but you did you lise not a very s going 111 to see ould by ondon. 16 made obvious lof him." ipeaking m now." ily for a al cause possible was so hat she and — was for That unlucky fellow was already at the mercy of two persons ; it would be rather unfair to add such a third to the num- ber. So he only said : — " I am afraid I cannot give you faith. Perhaps, if you wish to obtain it, your best plan would be to write to Bligh himself. I have the address of his London club." •• I must try to believe you," said Madame SouravieflF, sighing. " Evidently I should get no further information by writing, or you would not advise me to write." And then, as if reasoning with herself, she added, " It is pos- sible, after all, that the girl may have goaded him to des- peration." •* Yes : the girl — or somebody else," said Mark. " At any rate, he is disposed of, and that is what you wished. At least, so I imagined." •* It isn't always so easy to know what one wishes for," replied Madame SouraviefF,, with a sigh. " I wonder what you wish for ! Or rather, I don't wonder, because I know. Well, so be it ! Every dog has his day, and I have had mine. Would you stay and dine v/ith me to- night ? " " I shall be only too delighted." •' I am not sure about that ; you must be getting rather tired of dining with me by now, I suspect. But be con- soled ; this shall be the very last time. Everything in life is uncertain, but I suppose I may say with certainty that in another forty-eight hours I shall have taken a final fare- well of Abbotsport." She did not appear to be looking at Mark ; but very probably she could see his face out of the corner of her eye, and it was doubtless wise of him to assume an air of deep concern. " Must you go ? " he asked. •' J don't know that I £ much me tea ** Presently, if I may ; but I am afraid we shall find your aunt in the room, and while we are alone I want to beg once more for the answer which you wouldn't give me the other day. I want to know whether you really loved Archie or not ? " " Do you indeed ? You are a very determined person, Mr. Dare " " You used to call me Bobby once upon a time," inter- polated her companion. " Yes ; but now that you have become so stern and dictatorial, I can't venture to be as familiar as I was once upon a time. I was going to say that you are a very de- termined person and that I don't wonder at Arab slave- dealers being frightened of you." " They weren't much frightened ; nor are you. Please, give me an answer." " I did give you one the other day, though I might have claimed the right to refuse it. I told you that one may easily have a sincere affection for a man whom one does not wish to marry." " Only that's no answer at all, you see. What I want to get at is whether you were glad or sorry to lose him ? " " But — may I make so bold as to remind you that I am not being tried by court-martial ? I'm afraid you'll have to be satisfied with hearing what has satisfied other people. Archie and I couldn't agree ; so we parted — that's all. If you are meditating doing us a service by bringing us together again, let me assure you that we shouldn't like it. You would never be able to manage any- thing of the kind ; still you had better be spared the trouble of trying." " I haven't a doubt that I should be doing Archie a service," remarked Bobby musingly ; " but I confess that I am not quite as anxious to serve him as to serve you, arid I am not sure what your wishes are. Would it make any difference if I could tell you what made him take to his heels ? " " Can you tell me ? " asked Cicely, quickly. " Then she doesn't know, and she is anxious lO know," thought Bobby to himself. He answered : " Not now ; but I may contrive to find out before long. Meanwhile, 1 hope you'll beware of that man Chetwode." ,1- I;- i w ! . !..ii 312 MISADVENTURE. •* I don't quite understand you," said Cicely, draw- ing herself up a little. " Why should I beware of Mr. Chetwode ? " " I can't help fancying that he is at the bottom of this business. It's only an idea, and I haven't any proofs as yet ; but " "Then, really," interrupted Cicely, " I don't think you ought to say such things. As a matter of fact he had no more to do with Archie's going away than you had What motive could he have for interfering between us ? " " Well, that's just it, you see : the motive stares one in the face. Everybody says he wants to replace Archie. Of course, I don't blame him for that." " How noble of you not to blame him for these inten- tions of his which everybody knows about ! " exclaimed Cicely, scornfully. •* The only thing that you blame him for, it appears, is having kidnapped Archie — for I suppose you must think that Archie was kidnapped." *' Oh, that doesn't necessarily follow." " Spirited away, thin, in some unexplained fashion. At all events, your sapience has persuaded you that Mr. Chetwode is a profound schemer. Well, since you take such an unselfish interest in my affairs, it is only fair that you should be told what Mr. Chetwode really is. He is about the best friend I have in the world. He has been kindness itself to me in all my troubles, and I can talk to him as I can talk to nobody else — because other people seem to be so hopelessly idiotic — and you may feel sure that I shall not cease to treat him as a friend on account of the duplicity which you and * everybody ' have been clever enough to discover." Cicely, who had a fine color in her cheeks, was evi- dently much incensed, and perhaps it did not mollify her very much to be assured that the interest which Bobby took in her affairs was of a pure unselfish nature. '* In spite of what you say," he declared, " I don't believe you care for that derri-semi Russian and I do 1 elieve that you care for Archie. I suppose I musn't ven- ;r,-, CO call myself your friend ; but I mean to act as your •'. .'A, if I can, all the same." * I think you are very officious and very impertinent," „; \ :y was provoked into saying. MISADVENTURE. ni: ely, draw- ire of Mr. om of this ny proofs think you be had no ad What itares one :e Archie. ese inten- ixclaimed 'lame him I suppose fashion, that Mr. you take fair that He is las been n talk to people eel sure account ve been vas evi- llify her Bobby I don't td I do n't ven- as your tinent," I Thereupon Bobby apologised humbly enough. He said he could quite understand that he must appear to be both, and perhaps he ought not to have spoken out so plainly what was in his mind. Nevertheless, he could not retract his words. Time would show whether he was right or not. " I hope," answered Cicely, *' that if time shows you nothing else, it will show you the senselessness of listening to gossip and taking it for gospel." There was no answer to be made to that well-merited rebuke, and Bobby attempted none. He went into the house and had some tea and departed, shortly afterwards, without having attained the object of his visit, except in so far as that Cicely's language had confirmed his previous suspicions. She had never said that she did not love Archie, and she had made it tolerably plain to a disinter- ested outsider that there was danger of her accepting Chetwode out of pique. The disinterested outsider was of opinion that such a calamity must be averted at all hazards. CHAPTER XL. BOBBY AS A DETECTIVB, In that mild autumnal season the Abbotsport fish trade was very dull. The villagers, it is true, w^ere in no im- mediate want, because, being of an amphibious nature, they had lately been doing a little work (which they hated) in helping to get in the harvest and had received the wages which were their due. Still rent-day was drawing near, and the herring could not be expected for many weeks to come, and there seemed to be no better use for an unem- ployed working man to make of his time then to lounge over the bar at the Seven Stars and discourse gravely about the many troubles and anxieties which beset all mortals in this hard world. Nothing lessens trouble so much as talking about it, and no one can talk upon any subject for an hour at a stretch without requiring to quench his thirst ; so that if times were slack for some 'i rr- nm 314 MISADVENTURE. I people, they were busy enough for the landlord of the Seven Stars, a sympathetic person and one who was ever willing to allow credit to such of his customers as deserved it. Perhaps Mr. Coppard did not deserve it. At any rate, he had been given to understand that he would get no more of it, and thus it came to pass that that worthy man was seated in his own house one afternoon, with his elbows on his knees and deep dejection depicted upon his countenance. Not only had he, for the reason above men- tioned, been foiled of his fixed purpose of getting very drunk on the previous evening, but, by a most unfortunate oversight, he had left a little hard-earned money upon the kitchen table for a few minutes, where it had been found and promptly appropriated by Mrs. Coppard. Now, this was an altogether irretrievable misfortune ; for Mrs. Cop- pard, as her husband often told her, was " that thriftless " that whenever she obtained possession of any coin of the realm she immediately went and spent it. And now she had been buying boots for the children — as if anybody wanted boots at that time of year — and was propor-tion- ately good-humoured and exultant. " Well, 'tis something to have put 'ee in a good hum- our, anyway," observed Coppard, with gloomy philos- ophy ; " that's what don't come about more'n once in a blue moon." Mrs. Coppard from the back kitchen, where she was washing the family linen, shouted out a rejoinder which was doubtless appropriate, but the exact terms of which were inaudible. After a time she came in and stood, with her bare arms a-kimbo, contemplating her melancholy spouse. '• I do really b'lieve as you got somethin' on your mind, Coppard," she said at length. " Want of liquor alone can't account for such down-heartedness." " Got the rent on my mind," grunted Coppard. " How be I to keep a roof over our heads when all my small savin's goes to pay for your extravagances, I'd like to know ? " '* A tea-spoon'd be too big for to hold yuiiy savins," returned the wife ; " and as for rent, it's little you trouble yciir mind about that. Well, you know as Miss Cicely WQUjldn't see us turned out into the street." ift MISADVENTURE. 315 ;» ij ice in a Coppard sighed heavily. " Miss Cicely," said he, " won't remain single for ever ; 'taint likely. And by the look of things, I doubt but she'll get a 'ard man o' business for her 'usban. That there Mr. Chetwode worn't born yesterday, nor yet the day afore." " And you as couldn't find language powerful enough to praise him in not so long ago ; " remarked Mrs. Cop- pard, with a contemptuous sniff. " As for me, I ain't varied, not from the first. * None o' your slippery Roosh- ians for me,' says I. I'd a deal sooner see poor Mr. Harchie back, though I don't say as he beyaved very con- siderate to us. And I shouldn't wonder if you was re- pentin' already, Coppard, of what you done for to avenge yourself upon tiiat young gentleman." In saying this Mrs. Coppard was merely drawing a bow at a venture ; but her husband's demeanour seemed to show that she had hit the mark. He raised his eyes, frowning angrily, and asked her what she meant by that, emphasising his question with two or three strenuous adjectives. " A man as comes 'ome fuddled with drink lets out more'n he remembers," answered Mrs. Coppard, darkly. Now, the truth was that Coppard had not let out much ; but for anything that he knew to the contrary, he might have let out a great deal, and the idea that he had betrayed himself naturally made him both frightened and wrathful. He was telling Mrs. Coppard in grim and con- cise language what would happen to her if she hadn't sense enough to keep her tongue within her teeth when his harangue was interrupted by the rapping of somebody's stick upon the door. This was immediately opened from without, and through the aperture was thrust tne hand- some face of Bobby Dare, who asked : — " May I come in ? " " Why, if 'tain't Cap'n Dare ! " exclaimed Coppard, jumping up. " Come in, sir, and welcome. I did 'ear as you was back from the wars — and a terrible maulin' you've 'ad from them savages, they tell me." " Not very terrible," answered Bobby. " I've got a bad arm ; but that doesn't prevent me from steering a boat or holding a Hne, and I thought I should rather like an afternoon's fishing if you'd take me, Coppard." u^ r I'* ill i is. I'Ji 1! 816 MISADVENTUBE. Coppard assented readily. In the matter of payment he knew Mr. Dare to be animated by the feelings of a true gentleman, and he foresaw that it might yet be pos- sible for him to spend an evening in congenial company at the Seven Stars. Moreover, he was not sorry to escape from his wife, who was an alarming person when irritated, and who, even at the best of times, possessed a remarkable faculty of worming admissions out of those who would fain keep their own counsel. In less than a quarter of an hour, therefore, this much- enduring bread-winner was seated comfortably in a lugger, which he had borrowed for the occasion (the owner being absent), while his employer, with the tiller under his arm, was holding a line over the side. As there was a fresh breeze blowing from the eastward, and as they were run- ning before it, there was not much likelihood of Mr. Dare's catching many fish yet awhile ; but the reaJer will scarcely require to be informed that Mr. Dare was not at sea that day for the purpose of catching fish. And presently he began in a cautious fashion to feel his way towards the attainment of his private ends. " There have been great changes hereabouts since you and I were last in a boat together, Coppard," he re- marked. '•You may say that, sir," agreed Coppard, shaking his head ; " and none of 'em what you could call changes for the better, neither. The old squire, he's a sad loss to Abbotsport, and as to Mr. Morton, why, we don't know what he might ha' been if he'd lived. For we all has our faults, and we all looks to curin' ourselves of 'em in doo season." " Well — yes , I suppose so. But as things have fallen out, you haven't much to complain of, have you ? Miss Bligh will do all that her father ever did, I should think." " You won't 'ear no two opinions in Abbotsport about Miss Cicely, sir. But what I feel, lookin' forrard a bit, is that we've got to count with a young lady now, 'stead of a young gentleman. And it's only to be expected as young ladies '11 marry." ** Oh, of course. And in point of fact she was very near marrying a man who would have managed the pro- perty admirably, I daresay. That was a curious aflfair — the engagement being broken off so suddenly." MISADVENTURE. 3r i *• Very cur'ous indeed, sir," answered Coppard, briefly. •* I don't yet understand what the reason of it could have been," Bobby went on ingenuously. " Being away at the time, I have only heard rumours, and rumours are very seldom trustworthy." Coppard grunted an assent to the general proposition, but did not seem inclined to say anything bearing upon the particular instance ; nor had further leading questions the effect of overcoming his reticence. He agreed that Archie's disappearance was strange, and might even be considered unaccountable by some ; he did npt deny that it might have been due to causes as yet unknown to the public, and he said it was no doubt a pity that the pro- perty should be in danger of passing out of the hands of the Bligh family ; but he would give no hint that he him- self possessed more information upon the subject than the rest of the world. Under these circumstances, Bobby had recourse to persuasive measures for which no defence shall be attempted here. Drawing a flask from his pocket, he remarked . •* This easterly wind makes one feel as if it were Janu- ary; a drop of whiskey would do us both good, I think." He then swallowed a mouthful from the silver cup, and filling it up again, handed it to Coppard, who conscien- tiously emptied it with a sigh of appreciation. •* Have another nip ?" said the Machiavellian Bobby ; " that thing doesn't hold more than a thimbleful." And when his invitation had been complied with, he did not at once pursue the investigation with which he had made so little progress, but talked about the weather and the paucity of fish and one thing and another for a time. It was only when these topics seemed to be pretty well exhausted that he asked casually . •' What do you think of Mr. Chetwode, Coppard ?" " Well, sir," answered Coppard, whom the whiskey had certainly disposed towards a less distrustful attitude, *• b'etwixt you and me, I really don't know what to think of him." " Of course you know what people say — that he is making up to Miss Bligh ? " " I wouldn't swear as people was makin' any great mistake there, sir." ;U il! ''ll' w :,M h f .•]18 MISADVKNTrriK. ? " And there sccius to be an idea — though I daresay it's (luite an unfounded one — that he had something to do with getting Archie Bligh out of the place. You had bet- ter finish that whiskey, Coppard ; you look chilled. As for me, I have been so thoroughly baked in the tropics that cold hardly affects me. Yes ; that is one of the rumours that I have heard." After draining the flask to the dregs, Coppard rumin- ated a while with much seriousness. Coppard had a con- science, and of late it had been causing him a good deal of uneasiness ; because further acquaintance with Mark Chetwode had not improved his opinion of that gentle- man. That Mr. Chetwode loved Miss Cicely with an unselfish affection now seemed to him to be doubtful. However, the man was a masterful man and might easily prove to be a hard landlord. Finally, he had never given any money at all to one who had rendered him the great- est assistance ; and this, to say the least of it, was un- grateful. Still the danger of betraying him was too great to be faced by an honest man who wished to keep out of prison. What might be done, and perhaps ought to be done, was to put Bobby on the scent. If that course of action should eventually lead to the retirement of Mr. Chetwode, well and good. If not, a sincere well-wisher of Miss Cicely's would at least have done all in his power to pro- mote her welfare. He accordingly said : — " Well, sir, that's a hidear as has occurred to some who ain't no fools." " Including yourself, perhaps ? " suggested Bobby. " Thank'ee, sir ; though maybe I don't deserve the compliment. But, to be sure, it don't want a deal o' wis- dom to see 'twas Mr. Chetwodty; interest to get t'other young gentleman out of the way." " Just so. The only question is how did he contrive it ? " "Ah," said Coppard, " there, sir, you have me, I'll allow." " I suppose you can't think of any way in which the thing might have been done ? " Coppard was sorry to say that he really couldn't. Notions had come into his head ; but Captain Dare would V '"^:^'Ju mmm MISADVENTURK. 3in understand that some notions were best not put into words. •• Oh, I'm not asking you to put anything into words, except what you know," said Bobby. " I don't mind telling you that I am very anxious to get at the bottom of this mystery. Miss P/ligh and I are old friends, and I shouldn't like her to 1 i!l a prey to a fortune-hunter, if any efforts of mine could prevent it." '• 'Tis sailin' a bit near the wind," thought Coppard to himself ;0 howsomever I'll risk it." And he said : — ''If you should ask me, sir, I believe you couldn't do no better'n go straight to Mr Chetwode and charge him with what you think he done. Press him 'ard, sir, and you'm bound to get a hanser out of him. I don't say but what he may have knowed somethin* to Mr Harchie's disad- vantage ; but if he did, that don't excuse him from makin' a mean use of his knowledge, you see, sir " More than this could not be coaxed out of Coppard ; hut it was obvious that he knew more and that pressure might subsequently be brought to bear upon him, if necessary. Coppard's own forecast of what would hanpeii was that Mr. Chetwode, when accused of having brought about Archie's removal, would simply say : — •' Well, what if 1 did bring it about ? What if I know him to be the murderer of Miss Bligh's brother?" "You'll have to prove that," Bobby would rejoin ; " and even if you can prove it, it isn't over and above likely that Miss Bligh will marry the informer." Thus Mark might be checkmated, and Archie, being guilty, would not venture to return, and fixity of tenure might be assured for a certain length of time to those who owed rent to an unmarried l^dy. Bobby acted upon the advice offered to hinr»f because it accorded with his own ideas of straightforwardness. After lie had been put ashore, he shaped his course for Upton Chetwode, and as he was nearing the house he overtook Mark himself, to whom he said : — " I was going to call upon you, I rather want to have a talk with you, if you'll allow me." " I shall be charmed, ' answered Mark urbanely. '• Well, I am not sure that what I have to say will be exactly charmmg ; but perhaps you'll excuse my saying it. i'he fact of the matter is that I believe you can tell me, if m ir ki^M 320 MISADVENTURE. 'M you choose, more than I know at present about Archie Bligh." Mark shrugged his shoulders and laughed. " How much do you know at present ? " he inquired. " I know what everybody knows, that he has absconded; and I know that no satisfactory reason has been given for his doing such an improbable thing." •* And you think that I can give you a satisfactory reason ? Well, it is true, that so far as I know, I was the last person whom he saw in Abbotsport. He cai^fe to my lodgings the night before he left and told me that he had made up his mind to go away and to break oflf his engage- ment to his cousin." •• Without offering an explanation ? " ♦' I am not prepared to repeat all that passed in the course of a confidential interview. I may have received hints and I may have formed conjectures. Other people, as you are probably aware, have also formed conjectures." " Yes, but I am convinced that they are false. And I imagine that you know they are false." ** Why should you imagine that, Mr. Dare ? " •* I'll tell you presently; anyhow, I do imagine it. Amongst other conjectures which have been made, it has been conjectured, you know, that you are — in short, that you are an admirer of Miss Bligh's." " Ah, yes ; that was sure to be said," remarked Mr. Chetwode, composedly. And he added, with a smile, '* Do you know, I have heard the same thing said about you ? " •* Suppose that must have been before I went away. I don't mind your knowing that I proposed to her and that she refused me ; there's nothing to be ashamed of in that. But it is said — whether truly or not of course I can'*' tell — that you are thinking of proposing to her now ; and ^ lat naturally gives rise to a suspicion that you may have had something to do with Archie's disappearance." ♦'A suspicion on your part or on the part of the neigh- bourhood generally ? " asked Mark, still smiling. •♦ We'll call it a suspicion on my part if you hke. I'm ready to apologise if you can show me that there is no foundation for it." *' My dear sir, 1 am sorry that you should entertain MISADVENTURE. 32] / i • li Archie uired. iconded; ;iven for sfactory was the |b to my ; he had engage- d in the received r people, ectures." , And I agine it. e, it has lort, that ked Mr. a smile, lid about a.way. I her and lamed of course I er now ; you may irance." e neigh- Ike. I'm jre is no mtertain suspicions which are neither flattering nor warrantable ; but I must respectfully decline your invitation to prove a negative." Bobby had scarcely expected that such an invitation would be complied with ; but he had another shot left in his locker, which he now fired. ** I've just been talkii:g to old Coppard," he said sud- denly. .^ Mark could not exactly be saidHto start ; but there came an expression of alertness and inquiry into his face which showed that the statement was not without signifi- cance to him. He said : — " Coppard, the boatman ? Yes ? " " I have reason to think that Coppard is in possession of mformation which he hasn't seen fit to impart to me. However, I got something like an admission from him that you could tell me what I want to know, if you choose." Mark at once saw the danger of a direct denial. He answered : — "I might question your right to catechize nve, Mr. Dare; but I won't do that. I will only take the liberty of warn- ing you that you are meddling with matters which it would perhaps be better, for everybody's sake, to leave alone. Personally I may say that I have nothing to fear from any inquiries or discoveries that you may make, and you must pardon my refusing to say another word upon the subject." To this determination he politely adhered, notwith- standing Bobby's somewhat maladroit efforts to squeeze him. Nevertheless, the latter did not go a'vay discom- fited ; for he now considered it to be beyond a doubt that Mark Chetwode had been concerned in Archie's mys- terious exit, and that same evening he wrote a long letter to his former rival, in which he said, amongst other things : — " It is perfectly clear to me that Chetwode has scared you out of the place for purposes of his own, and if you don't come back and face the trouble, whatever it may be, he will most likely succeed. I haven't an idea what you have done, or are supposed to have done ; but I daresay there aren't a great many men who would like the whole history of their lives to be told to the woman whom they i WWrr- b n I ! 322 MISADVENTURE. " ^ love, and I don't believe that there are many women worth anything who wouldn't be willing to forgive and forget the past. I mustn't presume to answer for Miss Bligh , but my impression is that she cares a good deal more for you than she does for that cold-blooded beggar. All the same, it isn't a bit unlikely that she will marry him if you don't come back and stand up for yourself." This persuasive ^«epistle Bobby despatched to Archie's club, the address flf which he had obtained from Mr. Lowndes, and it may be hoped that after laying down his pen he experienced the reward which virtue is said to carry with it. For he himself was no whit less in love with Cicely than he had always been, and although he was strenuously opposed to her marrying Mark Chetwode, it could not be an unmixed pleasure to him to see her married to anybody else. CHAPTER XLI. ARCHIE IS MADE TO WAIT. Immediately after his arrival in London, Archie pre- sented the letters of introduction with which Mark Chet- wode had been kind enough to supply him, and met with a reception which was, upon the whole, as friendly as he had any right to expect. If he had not been utterly reck- less and indifferent, he might have thought twice before placing himself without reserve at the disposal of persons whose appearance and manners were scarcely such as to inspire unHmited confidence ; but he really did not care in the least what became of him, and, as he told them, the more dangerous the service upon which they might see fit to employ him, the better he would be pleased. There were a good many of them ; they were of both sexes and ap- parently of almost every social grade ; it did not strike him that they were very much in earnest, nor was he greatly impressed by the patriotism to which they laid claim. Still, the ceremony of his initiation was impressive enough, and they all agreed in assuring him that stirring events were at hand. If danger was what he wished for, •I MISADVENTURE, 323 ?fi I worth get the ;h , but for you e same, )U don't Archie's om Mr. [own his said to s in love ough he letwode, I see her chie pre- lark Chet- met with dly as he [erly reck- ce before f persons [uch as to ot care in , the more see fit to [here were and ap- iOt strike |r was he they laid Impressive .t stirring ished for, they said, there was every probability of his wishes being gratified before long. He gathered that there was going to be a simultaneous rising in Bulgaria and Montenegro, that the King of Servia was to be deposed, and that an outbreak in Macedonia might be counted upon as certain to follow; but his informants were chary of details — indeed he suspected that they themselves did not possess very ac- curate information — and he was somewhat curtly instructed to to await orders and refrain from superfluous questions. What seemed to give his fellow-conspirators a more favourable idea of him than they had entertained at the outset was the discovery that he had plenty of ready money. When it was made clear to them that he was prepared not only to pay his own expenses but to make a handsome contribution to the general fund, they became quite pleasant and good-humoured, and some of them even went the length of advising him to remain where he was for the present. That was evidently what they proposed to do, and they pointed out that there are many better ways of serving a good cause than dying for it But Archie, who wanted to die — or at all events thought that he did — confessed candidly that he had no predilection for one cause rather than another., and begged that he might be despatched without delay to any place in which fighting was likely to occur. " In the way of fightmg I might be of some use to you," he said ; •' but I doubt whether you'll find me much of an acquisition in any other respect. Diplomacy isn't in my line." It was a relief to him when at length the desired march- ing orders reached him, though these were not quite as precise as he could have wished. He was to proceed to Athens and there await further instructions. His ultimate destination might possibly be Salonica ; but this was un- certain. At any rate, efforts would be made to procure for him the command of a body of irregular cavalry. He was, however, reminded at the last moment of the obligation which he had taken upon himself and was cautioned that he had no right to select the manner of his employment. That was a point for the decision of his superiors. Probably very few people know what despair means, and it may be surmised that a man who is literally de- • i. 324 MI8ADVENTUBB. 51'; spairidg almost always puts an end to himself. This was in point of fact what Archie intended to do : for he was resolved not to survive his first battle, and in the meantime he felt that he was to all intents and purposes dead already. He was not conscious of being particularly miserable, though he was never free from a dull pain about the region of the heart. He managed to eat and sleep ; the only strong emotion that he experienced was one of impatience and his only dread was that he might be severely wounded without being killed outright The long journey to Brindisi reminded him every now and then that he had traversed the same ground under very different circumstances on his return from India ; but the memory caused him very little pain. The Archie Bligh ot those days seemed to him to have been a youth whom he had once known intimately, but in whom he no longer felt much interest. He was sorrow for the poor fellow, to whom fate had been so exceptionally cruel ; yet he scarcely identified himself with that luckless being. And when he had taken his passage from Brindisi on the Austrian Lloyd's steamer, and the snow-capped sum- mits of the Acroceraunian coast came in sight, and later on, when he sat on deck staring moodily at the olive-groves and vineyards and the sunny slopes of the Ionian Islands, and later still, when the Gulf of Corinth had been entered and the bare, purple mountains of the Peloponnesus rose in jagged outlines against the southern sky, neither the scenery nor the exquisite colouring, nor all the associa- tions that belong to that renowned land availed to rouse him from his apathy. The impertinent little modern city upon which the majestic Parthenon looks down ; the al- most perfect Theseum, which he could discern from the window of the railway carriage ; the columns of the fallen Temple of Jupiter Olympus ; and Lycabettus and brown Hymettus and distant Pentelicus — all these interested him no more than the chimneys of Birmingham or Manchester would have done. To him Athens was but a halting-place on his way towards an inevitable goal, and all he desired was that his halt might be made brief. However, he had to spend a restless week amidst those classic scenes ; for the Russian gentlemen who received him and who were civil enough, did not seem to M' I MISADVENTURE. 326 know very well what they were to do with their recruit, nor could they tell him much about the projected rising. Doubtless instructions would reach them in the course oi a day or two, they said. Meanwhile, would he be so good as to behave like a tourist and avoid mentioning the name of Bulgaria to anybody ? They were living, they explained, amongst people who were naturally hostile to their schemes, and any indiscretion on his part might render their position most uncomfortable. Consequently, a laconic behest which they received from Constantinople was no less welcome to them than it was to him. He was to report himself at the latter city, it appeared, and it was added that work would be found for him before long, " Work means active service, I presume," said Archie, who was beginning to feel some uneasy doubts as to the reality of this mysterio'^s campaign, but his colleagues could only shrug their shoulders and reply that they hoped so Their business, for the time being, was merely to observe and report upon the state of public feehng in Greece ; the plans ot those in authority were not usually revealed to subordinates until the moment for action had arrived. At Constantinople, however, he would meet with more influential and better informed persons. To Constantinople, therefore, he went, and if the persons to whom he duly presented himself there were more more influential than those with whom he previously had to deal, they also were more reticent and a good deal more suspicious. To what race or races they belonged, Archie did not discover ; but he gathered that some of them were Russians, and that some Bulgars. They could not or would not speak English, and it was in French — a language with which he was about as familiar as the ordinary British officer — that he had to reply to endlesis interrogatories. Again and again he was questioned as to his motives, and his reiterated answer that he simply wished for private reasons of his own, to take part in some forlorn hope, was evidently not found satisfactory. As for the raising of that body of irregular horse of which he had heard, the black-browed saturnine individual who was most active in cross-examining him, seemed to be faintly amused by the mention of such a project, but merely observed that Mr. Bligh would be told at the proper time what was required of him. ^m if, t ' > 1 ^26 MlSADVENttTRE. ^■:| The proper time bad apparently not yet come ; for the only orders that Archie received were to attend occasional meetings in a dirty little back room in Galata, where lengthy discussions took place in a tongue unknown to him, and where his presence was for the most part ignored. The hotel in which he had taken up his quarters was close, dirty and evil-smelling. It was almost empty, for at that season of the year everybody who could escape from Constantinople had moved to the shores of the Bosphorus, and in order to avoid exciting suspicion, he thought it best to engage a dragoman and have himself conducted to St. Sophia and the bazaars of atamboul and the otiier sights which it is the duty of tourists to visit. It was weary work, and the dragoman was annoyed because he could not even pretend to take an interest in anything that was shown to him. He fancied, too, that his foot- steps were dogg ^d ; . ' )ugh whether by an agent of the police or by a.i eii '>sary of his fellow-conspirators he neither knew nor cared Both were very welcome to keep an eye upon him, a^ 1 if ' vould seem advisable to have him nmrdered, he had no objection. But at length he fell in with one fellow-conspirator who cheered him up a little. This was a certain Theodori, a Greek or Levantine by birth, but a cosmopolitan by choice and force of circumstances, trusted member of the Panslavonic was a middle-aged man with a very good-humoured mouth, beady black eyes, and hair which was rapidly turning grey. He followed Archie away from one of the solemn meetings above-mentioned, caught him up and addressed him in excellent English. " All this is a bore to you, is it not, Mr. Bligh ?" he asked. "It is a great bore to be kept here in idleness," answered Archie. " I don't know what they are talking about, and I don't know what they mean to do. Some- times I doubt whether they mean to do anything at all." " Oh, they mean to do something ; it is even possible that they may succeed in doing it. But they have many difficulties to contend against ; not the least of which is that they have to count with people upon whom they can't implicitly rely." and, it seemed, a Society. Theodori dark complexion, a MISADVENTURE. 327 r the lonal rhere n to part liters npty, 3cape f the )n, he imself il and it. It icause /thing s foot- of the Drs he o keep have pirator eodori, an by ncd, a eodori xion, a which y from ht him ?" he jness," talking Some- all." possible many lich is they " They certainly don't seem to rely upon me," ob- served Archie. " I rather think they have put on a spy to watch me." " That is quite possible. You see, they do not know much about Englishmen, and you are rather a puzzle to them. I suppose I may take it for granted that you care for the future of Bulgaria just as much as I do — which is nothing at all." •' They appear to have confidence in you." " Well, I have earned it. For many years past I have been concerned in every plot and revolution that has taken place in Europe ; it is well known that I have no money, except what I receive in return for services rendered, and it is thought that I have generally earned my pay. Be- sides, I am free from scruples of any kind. You, on the other hand, have yet to win your spurs . and you must pardon these gentlemen if they don't feel altogether sure of you." " I shall be very happy to show them that I can fight, if they will give me the chance," said Archie. Theodori laughed. "Ah, my dear sir, that is not a great thing to be able to do. I do not wish to deprecate your valour ; but I have seen so much fighting in my time that I cannot attach any great value to fighting men. Physical cowardice in battle is not, believe me, a common failing." ♦• AH the same," answered Archie, " I don't believe you will meet every day with a man who would rather be killed than^ot." Theodori stood still under a lamp, lighted a cigar and looked into his companion's eyes. " Quite true ? " he asked. •♦ Not a figure of speech ? " " It is quite true," replied Archie, " that I am tired of life and that my only wish is to die." The other contemplated him half ironically, half com- passionately for a moment. •* I will report your words to the committee, if you like," he said. *• They have not been very cordial with you, I know ; but they are not wanting in humanity, and per- haps it is for your own sake that they have hesitated to employ you in enterprises which would almost certainly cost you your life," 328 MISADVENTURE. " If SO, their kindness has been entirely misplaced," Archie declared. •' From the first I have always said that to lose my liie was the very thing I wanted." " Oh, well," laughed Theodori, " that is what a great many young people say." He did not seem inclined to pursue the subject ; but he returned to Archie's hotel with him, and drank two- thirds of a bottle of champagne with evident satisfaction, and narrated amusingly enough many of the episodes of an adventurous life. Archie liked the man, who indeed had the kind of fascination which belongs to recklessness and unscrupulousness, and who seemed to understand the nature of his case pretty well without asking questions about it. The two became friends after a fashion. They met every day, and Theodori, after vainly endeavouring to give the Englishman an insight into the menus plaisirs of Pera, found a horse for him and took him out for rides into the country, Well, that horse was a great comfort to poor Archie He was utterly miserable and sick at heart ; he was with- out hope and beyond all possibility of consolation ; yet, dead though his heart might be, his body was still alive, and to feel a spirited animal ^nder him made the blood course more quickly through his veins, whether he wished it or not. Theodori, cantering beside him, used to throw queer, scrutinising glances at him from time to time, much as a doctor will scrutinise a patient, and almost always his examination ended with a sigh. " My dear Bligh," he said, one evening, when they had drawn rein in the Sweet Water Valley, and were gazing down the Golden Horn, " does it not sometimes occur to you that you are a great fool ? Life is pleasant even to me, who am poor and friendless and growing old ; what must it not be to you, who are young and rich and have nothing the matter with you, except that you have been crossed in love ! Oh, I allow that it hurts very much to be crossed in love — it is worse even than a bad toothache — yet one survives it and forgets it, as one survives and forgets everything. Do you know what I would do if I were you ? I would embark on board the very first steamer that leaves this port for England, and I would stay in my own country for a good long time to come. People are not stabbed in England." MISADVENTUIUL sai ;ed," that ^reat ; but two- ction, des of ndeed ssness id the istions They ring to 'sirs of r rides Archie s with- i; yet, 11 alive, ; blood wished throw , much mys his ley had gazing )ccur to |even to ; what [nd have Lve been ..luch to pothache [ves and do if I steamer iy in my pople are ** You mean that if I threw our friends over and re- mained here, they would have me murdered ? " " There is no doubt at all about that." •' Then if the worst comes to the worst, I can throw them over. You don't know how I am situated, Theodori ; there is really nothing for me to do but to die." '• For the sake of some woman, I presume ? " " Well, yes ; but I am not simply the love-sick youth that you take me for. I can't tell you my story ; only if you heard it, you would see that there is nothing insane in my wishing ifor death." " It is a pity," said Theodori musingly. And after they had put their horses in motion again and had jogged on for some little time in silence, he added : *' You will get your wish, I think. These men, who probably seem to you a vapouring set of fellows, with more bark than bite in them, are quite in earnest, and they ha \re some dan- gerous work to do. They are kind enough to say that I am too valuable to be sacrificed, otherwise I imagine they would have employed me." " In what way ? " asked Archie quickly. " That I should not be allowed to tell you if I knew. But I don't know. I merely guess. You and I have only to obey orders, with an encouraging certainty of being put to death if we are insubordinate. After all, that simplifies matters very much, and relieves one of all sense of respon- sibility." •• Yes," agreed Archie rather hesitatingly ; for his companion's remarks had suggested an unwelcome idea to him. Presently he asked : — " Would you assassinate a man if you were ordered to do it, Theodori ? " ♦' Oh, dear me, yes ! Why not ? In the first place, I should be compelled to do it ; in the second place, the man would probably deserve it ; finally, I have no objec- tion to taking human life in cases of necessity. That is a principle which is universally admitted, you know. Thous- ands of lives are taken for the sake of altering a frontier- line ; and it is only in quite recent times that civilised na- tions have given up executing their criminals for theft." ♦' Still, I suppose you wouldn't like to be an execu- tioner ? " " Not for choice," answered Theodori, laughing. 'J It —.var.::. J 330 MISADy£;i7TnB]&. •♦ However, I have never been ordered to execute any- body, and I daresay I never shall be." He put his horse into a gallop, and no more was said until they entered the streets of Stamboul. Then he would talk about nothing but the charms of a certain singer whom he had seen the night before at a cafi-chant- ant, a subject which possessed no interest for Archie. But after crossing the Galata Bridge, where they parted, he said suddenly : — '* You won't take my advice and ship yourself o£f home, then ? " Archie shook his head. " That is impossible," he answered. " Well," said Theodori for the second time, " it is a pity. Good night." CHAPTER XLII. ^1 THEODORI DECLINES A FORTUNE. It was probably in consequence of favourable reports received from Theodori that Archie's distrustful masters became more friendly with him and assumed a less guarded attitude when he was present at their councils. Some of them began to address him in his own language, with which they appeared to be somewhat better ac- quainted than he was with any foreign tongue, and through them he learnt something of the alleged position of affairs in Bulgaria. The people, he was told, were dissatisfied with their present ruler, and dreaded the inevitable results of the policy that he was pursuing ; the clergy were against him to a man and it was only in deference to the expressed wishes of certain exalted personages that a revolution had been staved of! so long. What was certain was that the coming revolution would have a very different and much more decisive outcome than the last. And perhaps it was in order to remove any patriotic misgivings which this Englishman might be expected to feel that so much stress was laid upon the perfect disinterestedness of Russia in the matter. Russia, he was assured, fully recognised the MISADVENTURE. sni tiy- said I he tain ant- But 1, he ome, IS a ports asters less mcils. ;uage, ac- rough iffairs tisfied [esults ;ainst ressed fn had it the much lit was this I stress isia in id the independent character of the races she had freed from the Turkish yoke, and there was no greater mistake tlian to suppose, as many people did, tliat the Bulgarians, by rea- son of their long enslavement, had not in tiiem the mak- ings ot a nation. Another very great mistake was the time-honoured belief that Russia coveted Constantinople ; and it was shown to him by arguments which he did not quite follow that the possession of that city would be a source of weakness, not of strength, to the great northern Empire which was charged with a desire to shift its capi- tal to the shores of the Bosphorus. The infidel, it was true, would be eventually driven out of Europe, that was what every intelligent man must perceive ; but it was de- sirable for the peace and security of all the European nations that a small state, guaranteed by the greater ones, should be placed in a position of such geographical im- portance. Well, the Greeks had been tried and found wanting ; it was now the turn of the Slavs ; and although the establishment of a Slav Kingdom might still be some- what distant, England, not less than the other powers, was interested in working towards that solution of the thorny Eastern question. To all this Archie assented with a good deal of indiffer- ence. H» could not have fought against his own country- men, but there was not the slightest danger of his being called upon to do that ; and as he was sure to be dead and buried long before a general war could break out, he felt justified in disregarding considerations of high politics. From what particular pattern of rifle the bullet mig'nt be discharged which would relieve him of all further partici- pation in earthly quarrels did not seem to him to signify very much. Only he wished that his death-warrant might be made out with as little delay as possible. One morning, his banker, whom he had been obliged to inform of his whereabouts, forwarded him z ' ^ich of letters, amongst which was tlie artless effusion penned by Bobby Dare. Archie was greatly touched by it ; for he knew very well what the sentiments and aspirations of his correspondent had once been, and indeed no secret was made of these. " I have loved Cicely Bligh ever since I was a small boy," wrote Bobby^ " and I suppose 1 may look upon my- lir -I ;1 ' 332 MISADVENTURE. II il self as an unusual example of constancy ; but she never took me seriously and she never will. That doesn't pre- vent me loving ner still, and wishing her to marry the man whom I believe she loves. If it is a race between you and Chetwode, I know whom I want to win." Other extracts from this letter have already been quoted. Of couse Archie could not be influenced by it ; but it softened his heart, and brought the tears into his eyes, though he judged it best to return no answer. " After all, there are some really good fellows as well as a lot of consummate rascals in this wretched world," he thought . '• Chetwode may be a rascal, and I shouldn't be much surprised if he was; yet I don't see how he could have dealt differently with me. If I had been in his place, I suppose I shouldn't have allowed Cicely to marry the man who had caused her brother's death. And if he wishes to marry her himself, he has a right to try. I don't believe she'll take him, though. I'd rather think of her as married to that honest fellow Bobby.'' But even this prospect, somehow, could not be con- templated with any approach to cheerfulness or resigna- tion. The unfortunate man was young and full of health and strength His feelings had been dulled by the terrible calamity which had come upon him ; but time was begin- ning to do its work, and this well-meant missive acted upon like an irritant, causing all his wounds to ache and throb with intolerable pain. He could not help asking himself whether it was possible that Cicely really loved him ; he could not help wondering whether it was true that women, when they love, are willing to forgive every- thing. He could forgive her anything, he thought, forget- ting that he had not been very ready to forgive her for desiring to manage her own property in her own way. Upon the summit of the hill of Pera, near the British Embassy, there is a small public garden, whence a wide view of the city may be obtained. Thither Archie wan- dered, and, after reading his letter over again and replac- ing it in his pocket, indulged in dreams which he well knew to be only dreams. No 1 he could not now go back and " face his trouble," as Bobby advised ; but there was no harm in speculating upon what might conceivably happen if he did go back. All sorts of happy and improb- MISADVENTURE. 3n3 never : pre- y the tween been by it ; to his s well ^orld," Duldn't lOW he 1 in his I marry id if he I don't f her as be con- fesigna- : health terrible s begin- e acted che and asking ly loved vas true '6 every- , forget- her for way. British e a wide lie wan- d replac- he well go back here was ceivably 1 improb- able events are conceivable, and perhaps we can't do better than console ourselves by conceiving them, because they very seldom come to pass, nor, even when they do, does the reality often prove as pleasing;;' as the vision. So for a time Archie pleased himself or pained himself — which it was he hardly knew — by imagining that Cicely's arms were round his neck and her head upon his shoulder, that she was telling him she did not doubt a word of hi? story, and asking him how he could have been so cruel as to fancy that she would. •* Oh, here you are ! " said a voice behind him. '• They told me you had walked up in this direction." •• Who told you ? " asked Archie, turning round. ♦• The man who watches me ? " Theodori laughed. ** You do not like being watched ? " he asked. '• For my part, I am so accustomed to it that I don't mind it — ind .ed, I look upon it as a sort of protection. Well, if you never do anything worse than sit in a garden and gaze at a superb view, you will suon cease to be spied upon." •• I didn't know there was a view," answered Archie, dejectedly. ** Now that you mention it, I daresay it is superb ; but I think I would rather be looking down tlic mouth of a cannon. Is there to be a meeting to-night ? " Theodori nodded. He seemed to be a little nervous and excited, and as he lighted a cigarette, while seating himself upon the bench beside his companion, it was noticeable that his fingers trembled slightly. •' Something has been decided ! " exclaimed Archie, upon whom these signs of agitation were not lost. '• Well — I think so," Theodori replied ; " but you will be told to-night. When all is said, it is what you asked for," he added almost roughly. " Death is what I asked for," said Archie, and it was with some surprise at himself that he experienced a sud- den sensation of faintness. " I shall be only too thankful if it is coming at last." '• Oh, you fool !" exclaimed Theodori, " you poor, silly young fool ! Do you know that you are as white as chalk ? There ! — never mind ; I know you are no coward. And you must go on now — I can't save you. Ah, why , - i r-m^Mf M M nij^lUlj B,,. 334 MISADVENTURE. wouldn't you be advised by me while there was still time ? " It may have been fancy ; but there certainly seemed to Archie to be a suspicious humidity in the eyes of this middle-aged scamp. " You have been very kind to me, Theodori," he said simply, " and you must not distress yourself about me now. It is quite true that death is what I asked for, and death is the only good thing that anybody can give me." '- Well, you may come out of it safe and sound — who knows ? " '« But that would be a little ridiculous, wouldn't it ? No; if anything in the world is certain, it is certain that I shall not return from this expedition. By the way, what sort of expedition is it, and what are we supposed to be going to do ? " *' My dear friend," answered Theodori, " you are aware that I am only an instrument, like yourself. I know very little, and what little I know I must not talk about. Only — I am sorry." Archie looked at the man's face, which was not a bad sort of face, as faces go, and which just now expressed nothing but kindly commiseration. " I didn't mean to tell my history to anybody," he said ; " but I will tell it to you, I think. Then you may be as sorry for me as you please, but at least you won't be sorry when you hear that I have been killed." So he related as succinctly as he could the chain of circumstances which had brougnt him to his present strait, and when he had finished, Theodori, who had lis- tened attentively without interrupting him, said : ** You have been very unlucky, my poor boy ; but you have also been unnaturally foolish, and I am afraid you have played into the hands of our friend Chetwode — qui nest pr.s sot, ltd." "Oh, I don't deny that I behaved like a fool," an- swered Archie ; " although I couldn't suppose that any- body had seen the scuffle between me and my cousin. Anyhow, you understand now why it was out of the ques- tion for me to return to England." Theodori c:^3ented meditatively. Yes, you are self-condemned in every sense ; your (« MISADVENTUEE. 335 Story would never be believed after the way in which you have acted. Yet you might very well have lived on and been as happy as ever again in the course of a year or so. Sijeunesse savant! But it is useless to talk in this way; and, as I said just now, you may not be going to die this time." " It will be no fault of mine if I don't," answered Archie. " Well, you had better be prepared for it, at all events, and that is what I came up here to say to you. Have you any instructions to give me ? Have you made a will ? " " I never thought about that," Archie confessed. " I suppose, if I die intestate, my money will go to my cousin, who doesn't want it ; perhaps I might think of somebody else to whom it would be more useful." Then he added, smiling . " I'll tell you what, Theodori, you shall be my heir. You aren't well off, you know, and you have often said to me that you dreaded the prospect of old age. With what I can leave you, you will be able to live comfortably and amuse yomcelf, and drop this conspiracy business." But Theodori started back, throwing out his hands. " Not for worlds ! " he exclaimed vehemently. *♦ I wouldn't touch it ! You think that is a funny thing for an unscrupulous pauper to say ? But don't you understand that it is my fault — that it was I who — well, they ques- tioned me about you, and I repeated what you had said. I wish to God I had held my tongue ! " ♦• My dear fellow," returned Archie, ♦* if you have made these people believe what I have been trying to drive into their heads all along, you have done me the greatest ser- vice in your power. Why should you object to my mak- mg some return for it ? " No representations, however, could overcome the de- termination of this inconsistent vagabond to refuse the fortune offered him. ••You must think of some other poor man," he said. •• Heaven knows there are plenty of them ! And when you have written out the document, you had better go to your Embassy or to your bankers and have your signa- ture attested ; for obvious reasons, it would not be very safe for me to act as your witness. Now I have no more lo bay, and 1 am going away. Till to-night, then." I' I §36 MISADVENTUBB. Ill So here was another good fellow, in the skin of an ad- venturer. In truth this world, sad and chaotic as it is, is inhabited for the most part by beings who are neither very bad nor very good, and the distance which separates the best of us from the worst is not so great but that we can join hands across it . Archie was going to leave this world and go he knew not whither ; that much was certain and inevitable ; so that there was no harm in his feeling a queer, yearning, brotherly sort of love for the fellow- sinners of whom he was about to take an eternal farewell. And possibly it may have been a half-conscious wish that some- body at least should think kindly of him after he was -"-ne, that made him bequeath all he possessed to Bobby are. Bobby, at all events, had been kind and generous to him, and Bobby, poor fellow, had neither money nor expecta- tions. It was as good a way as another of disposing of one's cast-ofF clothing. When Archie had executed his brief testament, and had had his signature duly witnessed he returned to his hotel, where he wrote a long letter to Cicely, in which he narrated the whole truth about himself. However, after he had finished it he tore it up ; for what was the use of distressing her ? She would hear that he had been killed in battle, and she would be sorry for a time, and then she would be consoled. That was better than that she should remember him in connection with a tragedy which had ended in virtual suicide. That night, as the doomed man entered the dingy little room in which he had spent so many weary hours, he saw that all eyes were turned upon him, and that in all of them there was an expression of curiosity and pity. Theodori appeared uneasy, and gave him a quick glance, which he interpreted to mean that he must show no sign of being prepared for what was in store for him. He accordingly seated himself with his accustomed air of languid dejec- tion, and as soon as some preliminary business had been disposed of, the fat, bald-headed personage who usually presided over these deliberations, addressed him in slow, laborious English : — *• Mr. Bligh, it has been determined to give you im- mediate employment. I am to tell you that the Society attaches great importance to your mission and counts 'Hill, >i 'if MiaiDVENTURB. 337 upon your obedience. To-morrow— do you see ? — you will take the steamer to Varna. On arrival you will report yourself to M Natchikoff, whoss address is here written out for you. From him you will receive further instructions, upon which you will act without delay. Also he will tell you what measures it may be possible to take tor your personal safety. I am to remind you — but that is perhaps not necessary — that, should you fall into the hands of our enemies, you are to die rather than make any compromis- ing revelations." Archie said he quite understood his orders, and im- mediately afterwards the conclave broke up. Everybody shook hands with him on wishing him good night, which was a departure from previous cu;>tom. Theodori, from whom he parted at the door, declined his invitation to accompany him home and smoke a cigar, answering hastily : — " No ; not to-night, thank you. I detest farewell con- versations. Nevertheless, I shall be on board the steamer to-morrow to see the last of you." 15;: i-l i CHAPTER XLIII. MUTINY. The Austrian Lloyd's steamer which carried the mails from Constantinople to Varna, and which until recently afforded the only direct means of transit between the Turkish capital and civilisation, was, as it usually is, in- conveniently crowded, and Archie, on taking his passage, was warned that all the available berths had been bespoken long before. However, the weather was fine and still, and he was quite willing to take his chance of a snooze on deck. There are circumstances which deprive even sea- sickness of its terrors, nor can it greatly signify whether one dies with or without a cold in one's head. Archie leant over the side and watched, though he scarcely saw the embarkation of the passengers, which was being effected from small boats amidst the hufcbub of shouting, shrieking, and chaffering familiar to all who have visited 1'^ 33S HISADVENTUIlE. k\ r eastern and southern ports. He was wondering whether Theodori would keep his promise of coming to say good- bye, and hoping that he would, although it seemed far more likely that he would not. For Theodori made it a rule never to incur any discomfort that could be avoided. He had to put up with so many compulsory discomforts, he was wont to say, that he would feel it unfair to himself to add voluntary ones to their number, and of course it is an uncomfortable thing to take leave of a man who has been sentenced to death. But at the last moment, when Archie had quite given him up, he hove in sight, and jumping out of the kaik which had brought him, ran briskly up the companion- ladder. And evidently he did not intend that his farewell should be of any solemn or emotional character. •• Well, old fellow," he said cheerfully, •' so you've done with this deadly lively place — and not sorry for it, I dare- say. You're going to have a splendid passage. Got every- thing you want ? " " I suppose so," answered Archie, smiling. " My wants are not numerous. I'm sufficiently armed, if that is what you mean." " Oh — well, yes ; that's desirable, of course. They take very good care of you on board these steamers ; you'll get a better dinner than you could get at that filthy Pera hotel." But although he went on talking in this way, as though his friend had been merely starting upon a pleasure excur- sion, it was easy to see that he was not thinking much about what he was saying, and he kept glancing towards the bridge, where the captain had already stationed him- self, and whence orders might be expected at any moment that all who were for the shore should disembark. When at length those orders were issued, and when a general movement m the direction of the side had begun, his man- ner suddenly changed. •• Bligh," said he, taking Archie by the hand, '<►! don't think we shall ever meet again in this world, and if there is another world somewhere, it isn't very likely that you and I will be quartered in the same part of it. So now there are three '.If^ngs tliat I should like you to remember, if you can. Fir^lly, that I am not a free agent ; secondly, if* III MISADVENTURE. ^() ether jcod- dfar e it a Dided. iforts, imself eit is lo has given e kaik )anion- arewell ife done I dare- t every - y wants is what They amers ; [at filthy though excur- kg much 1 towards led him- I moment When general lis man- «vl don't if there I that you So now Imember, jecondly. that I tried to persuade you to go home — and it would have been a ticklish business for me if you had consented, I cai. tell you ; thirdly, that I wouldn't take any legacy from you, though nobody wants money more badly than I do. Bear all this in mind, and perhaps you will be able to say to yourself, " Well, the man wasn't altogether a scoundrel, after all." •• My dear fellow," answered Archie, " I have had nothing but kindness from you from first to last ; and if you mean that it was you who got me told oflf for this job, whatever it may be, I can only say, as I said yesterday, that you couldn't have done a kinder thing." " Well — and there was something more that I wantec' to remind you of. You have bound yourself to be obedient, and you will have to stick to your word. You must think of your superiors as you used to think, I suppose, of some old red-faced English general. It wasn't for you to criti- cise his tactics, though you might not approve of them. Your duty was simply to do as you were told ; and that is your duty still. When you have seen Natchikoff, you wiU understand what I mean ; nothing short of a miracle can save you. Good-bye." He was gone before any rejoinder could be made, nor, after he had once more seated himself in his kaik, did he turn his head, though Archie watched him out of sight and was ready to give him a last wave of the hand. Archie himself was not in the least disturbed by tliat clear inti- mation that the end of his life was near. He had under stood as much from the outset, and, except during that passing moment of physical weakness which has been mentioned, he had not shrunk from his fate. As the vessel moved slowly out of the harbour and then began to steam ahead at full speed between the sunny sliores of the Bosphorus, his feelings were rather of peace and relief than of anxiety. A soldier's death is surely the best of all deaths, ar.d many an unhappy wretch who is driven to blow his brains out would welcome it tkankfuUy enough. Besides, anything is better than suspense. The weather lulfilled its fair promise ; the tempestuous Black Sea was found to be in one of its rare moods of quiescence, and at break of day the steruner cast anchor iij ihc luaditcad of Varna. Archie, who hud parsed the I y ^ 340 xMISADVENTURE. ill V ii night on deck, dozing at intervals, saw a liiio of low, harp hills, dotted over with white houses, wliich the hrst rays of the rising sun threw into relief. He and tht; other pas- sengers were placed on board large, heavy boats whicii might almost be called lighters, and as they were being pulled slowly towards the unprotected shore, he thought to himself what a pleasant time they would have had of it in an easterly gale. On the jetty a crowd of some thirty or forty persons was assembled, and as soon as he stepped on land, one of these, a perturbed-looking little man with a waxed grey moustache, singled him out. " Mr. Bligh ? " he said interrogatively, as he raised his liat. " That is my name," answer Archie. '* Perhaps vou areM- Natchikoflf?" *' Yes, yes," aoswered the little man hurriedly. " You have arrived early , you have abundance of time before the train starts. What luggage have you ? Only that bag ? So — that is well ! You had better walk up to the Railway Station with me. I would invite you to break- fast at my house ; but the circumstances are such — you understand ? For the sake of my family, I must not risk it . ' He spoke very fair English ; but he was in such a state of nervous excitement that it was impossible to get any intelligible information out of him. "There is no hurry — there is no hurry ! " he kept re- peating, in answer to Archie's request for instructions. " I have a paper for you which I will deliver to you presently, when we shall not be observed, as we are now. It is most unfortunate that so many people have seen us together. Yet it was better that I should meet you than that you should ask your way to my house. And I would wager that those people at Constantinople have done nothing to insure my safety. You have not brought a letter of intro- duction to me from your Embassy — no ? " " Of course not," answered Archie, smiling at the idea. " I thoughts not ! Such a simple precaution, and so easily taken ! Many Englishmen bring introductions to me ; I show them the neighborhood and the site of the British camp before the Crimean war. That is quite natural. But those people treat me like a dog ; they have no consideration for me." MISADVENTURE. 341 It was evident that M. Natchikoff was a good deal more pre-occupied with his own affairs than with those of his charge. His complaints were prolonged without intermission until he had reached a secluded spot, a long way from the Railway Station, when he cautiously drew an envelope from his pocket and thrust it into Archie's hand. " There ! " said he, " that will tell you what you have to do." But, as Archie was about to break the seal, " No ! No ! " he almost shrieked ; I will not have it — I will not permit it 1 I desire to know nothing of the contents of that letter ; you will be so good as to open it after you have entered the train and started on your journey." '♦ Very well," answered Archie, rather amused ; " but at least you will have to tell me for what place I am bound. Because I don't know." " For Rustchuk, of course. Is it possible that they did not inform you of that ? " " They informed me of nothing ; I only know that I have been honored with a commission which is likely to cost me my life. Perhaps, as we are quite alone, you would not object to saying whether you think that a gen- eral rising in the country is at hand." " A rising ? That may be — or again it may not be. We get no direct news from Sofia here, and I am not in- structed to say anything to you upon the subject. But," added M- NatchikofF, with marked reluctance, ♦' I was to ask you whether you had provided yourself with a re- volver ? " Archie pulled up his waistcoat and showed the weapon which was attached to his belt. M. NatchikofF drew a long breath of relief. " Then I am not under the neoessity of furnishing you with firearms," he observed. *' It was a very dangerous thing to ask me to do — very dangerous, and very incon- siderate on the part of those who suggested it. Now, as to that letter : it must be altogether destroyed. I suppose — perhaps you would not like to swallow it, after reading it?" "Well, if you ask me, I don't think I should," replied Archie. " Moreover, if there are other people in the rail- II, Vv .'!i ii '^' i? ^"f^n 342 MISADVENTURE. 1: I § .uld not ory had ne show n it was jlerated. I patting in. For th them, them — it Mark ay. that yet, n powers benefice. ers to his interview jnscience sharply hetwode, retions. er vainly Id him in account- as I ain't ure Miss put such e knows, r one o' likes o' yourself a iCoppard, lyou had pearing a ■Si ty that he 1 true that young Mr. BHgh had proposed to deal with him in a harsh and unjustifiable manner, but young Mr. Bligh was not his landlord and never would be. He could afford to disregard calumny, and he always did disregard it. Moreover, he really didn't know how a poor fisherman was to drive a rich gentleman out of the country even if he wanted to do such a thing. Mr. Lowndes, not knowing either, had to desist from cross-examining this recalcitrant witness ; but when he went to say good-bye to Cicely, he felt it his duty to try the effect of a last appeal upon her. *• I know I am going to make you angry," he said ; ♦• but I am old enough and wise enough not to care whether I make you angry or not. I can't leave this country without cautioning you once more that you are in danger of committing an act of folly which you will repent for the rest of your life. I am not denying your right to think what you please about Archie, and of course, until he vouchsafed some explanation of his behaviour, he had only himself to thank if you assume that he has fallen in love with another woman — although he hasn't. But now, I put it to you as a reasonable being ; is that a sufficient reason for you marrying somebody else, whom you don't really care for ? •' Oh, no, I shouldn't think so," answered Cicely ; '• but then I wasn't aware that I was going to marry anybody else." " Well, my dear, you are thinking of it, and so is he. Mrs. Lowndes says you will do just what you choose, and I dare say she is right. All I implore of you is to look well before you leap. Chetwode may be a trustworthy friend, though I confess that I am inclined to doubt it ; but from friendship to love is a long step, and if you haven't taken that step yet, be advised by me and keep yourself well in hand, while you can. We none of us know very much about him, remember." Cicely, who thought she knew a good deal about him, did not consider it worth while to say so. In her heart of hearts she knew that Mark loved her ; but how could she discuss the possibility of her accepting a man who had manifested no intention at all of proposing to her ? She, therefore, contented herself with remarking that f ir !li " •»!— - " ■ 1 V i 362 MISADVENTURE. if I In i- she had no donbt whatever as to Mr. Chetwode's trust- worthiness, and that she was well aware of how inevitable it was thc^t i?ny bachelor friend of hers should be set down as her suitor. " It is a pity," she added, " that you can't man ige to dislike him without bringing such far-fetched accusations against him ; but that, after all, is a great deal more your affair than his or mine. Probably he would only be amused if he heard them." Mr. Lowndes could say no more, and felt that he had done unwisely in saying as much. It was with a heavy heart that he took his leave and with sad misgivings that he started for the Continent on the following day. '* I don't feel as if I should enjoy this trip a bit, Maria," he could not help saying out of the fulness of his heart to liis wife, as he sat opposite to her in the railway carriage. " Cicely Bligh is as dear to me as if she were my own daughter, and I am afraid she is going to make the most fatal mistake that a woman can make." " Would your staying at home have prevented that ? " asked Mrs. Lowndes, pertinently. " One can't stop people from doing foolish and fatal things ; it's only when the things are done that they come to us and ask for help." "Yes," sighed the kind-hearted Rector; "and that is just what makes one doubt sometimes whether one ought to be thankful for existence. Our judgment is worth nothing where we ourselves are concerned, and we are ipowerless to save others, because they won't listen to us. My feeling is that, if I were what I ought to he, they would listen to me — and they don't." But a man whose digestion is in good working order can scarcely contrive to be a pessimist, and when Mr. Lowndes reached Paris he began to enjoy himself, not- withstanding the excellent reasons that he had for being in low spirits. It was very natural that so thorough a change of scene and surroundings should cause him to forget the worries connected with an English country parish, and as a matter of fact lie was more oblivious of these than was his partner, whose sharp eyes were for ever restlessly searching the Rue de la Paix and the Rue de Rivoli anu the gardens of tlie Tuileries in quest of somebody whom thev could not discover. On the last day, however, Mrs. MISADVtNTURi:. SG.*") 3 trust- vitable t down iige to sations re your amused he had a heavy igs that Maria, ■■ leart to ;arriage. my own he most , that?" p people rhen the lelp." that is ne ought worth we are n to us. ey would ng order len Mr. self, not- being in change »rget the and as han was estlessly voU anu ly whom ,^er, Mrs. Lowndes' vigilance was rewarded. She and her husband were driving back from the Bois de l^oulogne, when near the Rond-puint in the Champs ElysJcs they were passed by a smart victoria, in which was seated a lady whose features had recently become familiar to the inhabitants of Abbotsport. " There she is !" exclaimed Mrs. Lowndes excitedly. " Lcok ! Look ! " The Rector whisked round in time to see that the vic- toria had been brought to a standstill and that Madame Souravieff was smiling and beckoning. " Shall we go and speak to her ?" he asked. But Mrs Lowndes had already answered the question by jumping out ; and presently they were shaking hands with their former neighbour, who expressed much sur- prise at meeting them there and a good deal of anxiety to hear any local intelligence that they might be able to give her The interview, which did not last long, was a rather disappointing one to Mrs. Lowndes, for all her queries and insinuations failed to elicit from the Russian lady the admission which she had hoped for. Madame Souraviefl' looked perfectly innocent when she was informed that Archie Bligh's friends were in perplexity as to what had become of him, and she had the effrontery to say that if, as they conjectured, he was abroad, she hoped he would come to Paris and find her out. " All the same," Mrs. Lowndes declared, as she re- sumed her place in the fiacre beside her husband, " that young man is here. Of course she wouldn't take him out driving with her. I wish we weren't going away to- morrow." •' If you are right, Maria," answered Mr. Lowndes, ** we should gain notliing by proving you so; and if you are wrong, as I think you are, we should do better to pro- secute inquiries elsewhere." But it was with little hope of hearing anything about Archie Bligh that this staunch friend pursued his journey to Strasbourg, Munich and other German cities, and when he reached Vienna and took up his quarters at the Grand Hotel, he was less preoccupied with home affairs than with the questions of alternative routes to Venice and ot 364 MISADVENTURE. whether the autumnal rains would have rendered the Tyrol an uncomfortable place of sojourn for tourists or not. He was sitting in the court-yard with a map spread out upon the table before him; in the verj' same spot where Archie had received Theodori's challenj^e, when he became aware of a stout, bearded personage v/ho, with straight legs and heels drawn together, was making him a low bow. ** The Reverend Lowndes, I believe ? " said this Teu- tonic stranger. Mr. Lowndes jumped up, ducked his head, and looked interrogative. *• Your name has been seen in the list of arrivals," went on the other, '* by a patient of mine who is very ill in this house, and who would like to speak with you. He has begged me to seek you out and to mention his name — Mr. Bligh." " Good gracious 1 " exclaimed Mr. Lowndes, " is it possible that ycu can mean Archie Bligh ? What an extraordinary thing ? Of course I will go and see him at once. You don't think him dangerously ill, I hope ? " The c-jctor shook liis head. ■ *' Your friend is more then dangerously ill," he replied ; " his life cannot be saved. We have found it impossible to extract the bullet, and even if we could have done that, I do not think that we should have kept him alive. The left lung is perforated, and what is worse, there is no vitality in the system. I fear he must sink in a few days." " The bullet ! " exclaimed Mr. Lowndes — " what bul- let ? Ho\ ' did he manage to get a bullet in his body at all ? " " Now — that is no difficult matter," answered the Viennese doci:ci, smiling. '* He has perhaps trodden upon the foot of the other chentleman — what do I know ? To me it was more important to get the bullet out than to ask how it found its way in ; but, as I have told you, it was not possible to perform any operation." " Oh, a duel, eh ? Dear me, what a sad business ! Who could have picked a quarrel with hira ? Some foreigner, of course. Not— not a Russian Count, I hope ? " " No, not a Russian. I have understood that the chentleman was a Greek, and that the affair was political ; MISADVENTURE. 36.' ered the lurists or p spread ime spot when he /ho, with king him ;his Teu- id looked arrivals," is very ill y^ou. He s name — ;s, " is it What an ee him at pe r e replied ; npossible one that, ive. The ere is no ew days." ;vhat bul- his body ered the den upon ow ? To an to ask )u, it was business ! ? Some I hope ? " that the political ; /•• I but this I cannot say certainly. My business was only tc attend to the one who should fall." " You were pr^^sent at the duel, then ? " The doctor nodded. *• I was requested to be present ; and I may tell you that I am sorry to have given my consent, for I have had trouble with the police about it. I have concealed noth- ing of what I know from them, and I will conceal nothing from you, but I know very little. Until the day of the duel I was acquainted neither with your friend nor with his adversary, and the other persons concerned in the affair have left this country for the present — it was only prudent on their part to do so. Mr. Bligh took no aim, he fired into the air, and at once fell, as we all believed, dead. But when I found that he still breathed, it was my duty to do all in my power to save h^in, and you may be sure that no measure has been neglected. Unhappily, our efforts have failed, and yesterday I was obliged to tell him that he must prepare for the end." Mr. Lowndes sighed. " It is a sad business," he said. ♦* Yes," assented the other, who seemed to have that sort of kindheartedness which so many Germans have, and which is not incompatible with considerable thickness of skin ; *' yes, it is sad to see any young man die. But from what he has told me, I think he is not anxious to live, and when one is not anxious to live " Here the doctor raised his shoulders and spread his hands expressively. " Has he spoken to you about himself and — and his affairs ? " inquired Mr. Lowndes. " No, he has spoken very little. I am not inquisitive. and besides, wh'.Je there was any hope, it was necessary to keep him from talking. Now, however, it is of no con- sequence. Nothing can do him any harm, and I think he will die more happily after he has seen you. It was only by chance that I read out to him the names of some of his countrymen who had arrived at the hotel, and as soon as he heard yours he begged me to seek you out and send you to him. It is very possible that he may have some- thing upon his mind and that you may be able to relieve him." " Ah, I'm afraid ifs too late for that. Is there abso- lutely no hope? " :m MISADVENTURE. •* Absolutely nene. You would not perhaps understand me if I told you the medical details ; but he is in reality a dead man already. Will you come now to his room ? " " Of course I will," answered Mr. Lowndes ; and so he was conducted upstairs to a bedroom on the second floor, the door of which was opened by a Sister of Charity, who closed it behind her and stepped out into the passage after the doctor had said a few words in German. " We shall leave you together," the latter said ; " you will be more at ease so. If anything should happen to make you want us, you will be so kind as to ring the bell." CHAPTER XLVII. LAST WORDS. Mr. Lowndes advanced into the room, where a man whom he would never have recognised as Archie Bligh was lying in bed, propped up by pillows. The unfortu- nate young fellow was as emaciated as if he had had a long illness ; his beard had been allowed to grow, his cheeks were as white as marble and his features had the pinched look which is the forerunner of death. He turned his head slowly and smiled, holding out his hand. *' Oh, my poor boy ! " exclaimed the honest Rector, with tears in his eyes ; "I would rather have lost my right arm than found you like this ! " "You needn't be sorry for me," Archie answered; " it's all right. Everything has happened just as I wished, except that I wasn't killed on the spot ; and now that you have come, I am very glad 1 wasn't. What a piece of luck that you should have turned up in Vienna, of all places, at this moment ! " He spoke with some difficulty and his breathing was laboured ; but he seemed to be quite composed and m full possession of his faculties. *' Im thankful to have found you, and I shall be still more thankful if I can be of any comfort to you," answered Mr. Lowndes, mournfully enough; "but I can't be thank- MISADVENTURE. S67 e a man ful to see you as you are. Why should you have wished it ? What made you fight this duel ? " " Well," replied Archie, " I believe I shall do no harm if I tell you, There are certain things to which I have sworn secrecy; but your hearing the main facts will injure nobody, and it won't take many minutes to relate them. Find a chair for yourself and sit down. If I faint or any- thmg, you had better ring lor the nurse. She'll know what to do. I may as well begin by saying that that duel was really an execution and that I only got what I sup- pose were my deserts by being executed. Before I left England I joined a secret society, which I mustn't partic- ularise, and my belief was that I was to be employed in some sort of soldiering work — in raising an insurrection, in fact. However, that wasn't the view of my employers, and when I got orders from them to assassinate somebody, I could only refuse." "I should think so, indeed !" ejaculated the astonished Rector *' A nice set of scoundrels they must be ! What on earth could have tempted you to join them, Archie ? " *' You shall hear presently Of course, after disobey- ing their commands and breakmg my oath of allegiance, I was bound tc let them punish me in any way that they might think fit " " 1 don't see that at all,'' interrupted Mr. Lowndts. *' Well, I thought so, and 1 think so still. Added to which, my own wish was to get rid of life. Death, as you can easily understand, is the only punishment that they ever inflict, and they sent a man here to kill me. As he was a good fellow and had been a friend to me, he natu- rally didn't like the job ; so to make it less unpleasant for him, I made a pretence of quarrelling with him and accepted a challenge from him in due form ; and — and shoot me th quite igh say," added Archie, meditatively, " that his hand was a little shaky ; for I have seen him practising with a pistol in a shooting gallery, and a better shot I never met in my life." *• Ah, dear me ! " groaned Mr. Lowndes ; " I wish he had been a worse one — or that he had had a coiisci! ncc! " " Oh, he has a conscience right enough. Hv did his duty according to his lights, and he certuiul) thought thut ^' i l^ I tm MISADVENTURE. I had failed in mine. Personally, I shouldn't like shooting a deserter ; but I might have had to do it, you know, in old days. I'm glad to say that I can die without any ill feeling against these fellows ; though I doubt whether they are much use. Anyhow, they have answered my purpose, so I have nothing to complain about." " \ ju mean, I suppose, that they have done for you what you would have hesitated to do with your own hand. But, my poor dear fellow, why did you want to throw your young life away ! I'm very much afraid that you have been cruelly deceived by somebody." " No ; the deception has been on my side. Now, Mr. Lowndes, I am going to confess the whole truth to you if I can ; but you mustn't interrupt me, please, or I shall never get through, I daresay you remember that I left the Priory for Aldershot on the night when Morton met with his death. Well, it was I who killed him." Mr Lowndes could not suppress an ejaculation, not- withstanding the request which had just been made to him. •' Yes," Archie went on, ♦' I killed him, though I was as innocent as you are of any intention to commit murder. It was very bad luck. I missed my train, and while I was wandering about, waiting for the next one, I met Morton, who had just heard of my engagement to his sister, and who was drunk and abusive. He began by trying to get up a row with me ; but of course I wouldn't have that, and as I took him by the arm to get him safely past the cliff — because he was reeling all about the place — he first pretended to be very affectionate and then did his best to shove me over the edge. The end of it was that he did shove me over, and if i hadn't been brought up short by a narrow shelf of rock I should certainly have been dashed to pieces. I wish to God I had been ! However, I didn't know what was to come ; so I made a desperate struggle for life, and he stamped on my hands to make me loosen my hold, and then I caught him by the legs and he fell and rolled over the brink. That's the whole truth. I'm sure you won't think I would tell you a lie on my death- bed." " 1 should not have suspected you of telling a Heat any time," answered Mr. Lowndes, as Archie paused and sank MISADVENTUBB. S6d baclc gasping for breath. " Why did you not say this before ? " " Because I did't think I should be believed. It doesn't sound like the truth, you know. I was sure that nobody could have seen what had happened ; so I went on to Al- dershot, and when I was rent for I tried to look as much horrified as every one else was at the accident. It wasn't straight or honest, I quite admit that ; but — well, the long and the short of it is that I couldn't bear to lose Cicely. And it stands to reason that I should have lost her if I had confessed to her that I had kill^:' her brother." The Rector shook his head. " Cicely would have believed you and stood by you," he said. " No ; she didn't love me enough for that. I think one would have to love a man very much before one could accept such a story and marry him in the fcce of the out- cry that would be raised against him. I don't deny that I was wrong ; but I'm not sure that I wasn't wise. Any- how, I was punished ; for it turned out, after all, that the whole scene had been witnessed by old Coppard, who was in the woods — poaching, I suppose. He kept it dark for a long time ; but at last he blurted it all out to Chetwode, and that was final. The only thing left for me to do was to get out of the place ui^a 'ureax.: oiT my engagement and — and find somebody accommodat'ng enough to put an end to me." If poor Archie had been sound and well, Mr. Lowndes might have felt it his duty to scold him a little ; but as matters stood he could not bring himself to do that, and only said sorrowfully : — *' It was Chetwode who persuaded you to go, then ? " " Not exactly. I had made up my mind to go, and all he did was to give me introductions to people who seemed likely to put me in the way of being decently killed." " I daresay he was willing enough to do that." •* Perha|#£ ; I can't tell for certain. He has kept my secret, and I think he may have been disinterested ; though Bobby Dare, from whom I had a letter not long ago, doesn't, and I presume, from your face, that you don't either. If it hadn't been for Bobby's letter I shouldn't have made a clean breast of it to you — it = 370 MISADVENTURE. wouldn't hare been worth while. But now I think that Cicely ought to know the truth, and I want you to repeat all I nave said to her. Then she can judge for herself. And will you tell her, please, that I never loved and never could have loved anyone but her. I mention that because Bobby wrote some nonsense about Madame Souravieff, which she may have believed." Archie's voice had been growing weaker, and his arti- culation less distinct. He now closed his eyes, and Mr. Lowndes, after twice speaking to him and receiving no reply, thought it better to ring the bell. The doctor and the nurse at once appeared ; and the former, when he had administered a restorative to his patient, said : — •* I will ask you to leave him now, sir." He added in a lower tone : — " Later in the day — if there should be any change — you would perhaps wish to be at hand — yes ? I am obliged to go away, but the nurse will call you, if necessary. I think, however, that he has probably a day or two left to live." All this time Mrs. Lowndes had been waiting impa- tiently for'her husband to escort her to the Imperial Pic- ture Gallery and the Schatzkammer ; so that when he appeared she had some incisive remarks to make upon the selfishness of unpunctuality. As soon as she had heard his excuse, however, she became as sympathising as could be desired and wanted to make some beef-tea immediately, because she was sure that no foreigner understood these things. But the Rector said : — •• I'm afraid it isn't worth while, Maria. The doctor told me there was no hope, and indeed I could see that for myself. It has been a most deplorable affair. If only the poor lad had had sense enough to speak the truth at the outset ! " " But even if he had, Robert, I don't see how Cicely could have married him. It seems that he really did cause the wretched man's death, though he did it uninten- tionally." •' Under all the circumstances, I shouldn't have re- garded that as an insurmountable obstacle, and I don't believe that Cicely would either — if she really loved him." " Only, as 1 have so often told you, she didn't. I am ready to acknowledge that I have maligned him and to MISADVENTURE. 371 heap ashes upon my head ; but I know I am right about her." . *• It doesnot muchsignifynow," observed Mr. Lowndes. And then, after a pause: "I thmk we shall have to go straight home home as soon — as soon as it is all over." Mrs. Lowndes' face fell a little ; but she was a worthy wonTan, in spite of some small weaknesses, and slie an- swered submissively : — " Well— if you think so, Robert." " I might write," said her husband ; " but upon the whole I would rather convey this news by word of mouth than by letter. What I dread is that Cicely may engage herself to that man Chetwode, and if once she were to do that, she would be very apt to shut her ears and stick to her word." " But has he done anything disgraceful ? I suppose he would say that when he heard the truth, he did the most friendly thing that could be done. He didn't give information and he helped the unfortunate man to escape." " Yes, yes ; but 1 don't like that assassination busi- ness. If he didn't actually instigate it, he must have known what was likely to happen and what the inevitable consequence would be. Unless I am very much mistaken in her. Cicely won't marry him alter hearing this story. Anyhow, I should never forgive myself if I left any stone unturned to save her from him." This good couple had not the heart to go sight-seeing that day, the remainder of which they spent in their bed- room, drearily enough, awaiting a summons which did not come. But late in the evening somebody tapped at the door, and the doctor put in his head. " There is no immediate danger," he said ; " but if you have anything more :c say to your friend, it would be well that you should go to him now The Sister tells me that his mind has been a good deal wandering. To-morrow, perhaps, he would not know you." The Rector, ot course, hurried to Archie's bedside, and found him quite composed and rational ; but in truth tlei e was little more to be said. The dymg man had a few mes- sages to send to his friends, and for ihe rest he was rea ly and willing to accept the last consolations of religion. Happily for hmi, his faith was of that unquestioning order t 372 MISADVENTURE. i'^i i I with which the majority of our countrymen are blessed Like a true Briton, he had always hated the labour and misery of connected thought, and he was humble enouf,di to believe that the creed which had commended itself to his forefathers was good enough for him. He had led much the same sort of life as other young men lead — not much better and certainly not any worse. He was sorry for the sins that he had committed and glad that he had never been guilty of conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman ; and he was not afraid to die. *' I funked it a little bit some time ago," he confessed simply ; ** but now I don't seem to mind. It's all right " A plain man like Mr. Lowndes could only hope and believe so. If Archie Bligh was not " all right," then as- suredly nine-tenths of us must be all wrong ; and although that is perhaps the orthodox doctrine, it is a very hard one for good-natured folks to swallow. The night passed without much perceptible alteration in the patient's state ; but towards morning he became deHrious, and, as the doctor had anticipated, he never re- covered consciousness. Within twenty-four hours of the time when he had made his confession to Mr Lowndes, he died, leaving behind him at least one person to whom his death appeared in the light of a calamity. But Mrs. Lowndes, after shedding some natural tears, said that perhaps it was all for the best. *' You see if he had recovered there would inevitably have been complications. It isn't as if Cicely really loved him ; and supposing that she had married him without loving him, they would have been miserable. It seems almost a pity that she should have to be told this tragic story." *• She is certainly going to be told," answered the Rector with decision. " We will start for England as soon as we have buried our poor lad ; and meanwhile I have telegraphed to her, merely saying that her cousin has been killed in a duel here and that I am coming home to give full particulars. They hurry things over so in these countries I The doctor tells me we shall be able to leave in a couple of days." This forecast of the doctor's pioved, however, to have been somewhat over sanguine. Within the specified time • !: MISADVENTURE. 373 all that was mortal of Archie Blipfh had indeed been laid in the cemetery ; but the police gave a pood deal of trouble, and many formalities had to be gone through before Mr. Lowndes was permitted to take possession of the papers and effects of the deceased. Not until after the lapse of ten days was the harassed and impatient Rector able to take his place in the Cologne express, and as during that time he had had no news of Cicely beyond a brief acknow- ledgment of the telegram, he was by no means as easy in his mind about her as he could have wished to be. For, after all, the mere fact of Archie's death would hardly be enough to prevent her from accepting the hand of Mark Chetwode. " She can throw the man over, though," Mr. Lowndes consoled himself by reflecting ; '• and it shall be no fault of mine if she doesn't." ill rj: ,, CHAPTER XLVin. • .''-■- ... MADAME SOURAVIEFP HEARS SOME GOOD NEWS. tears, Anybody who has ever committed an act of self-sacri- fice — and most of us, it may be conjectured, have been guilty of that folly once or twice — must be aware that only after the deed has been done does the shoe really begin to pinch. We are willing to give up a very great deal for those whom we love, or what would our love be worth ? And we don't want thanks or expect that the laceration of our feelings should be quite understood, and if we could only die and have done with it, perhaps we should die more or less happy. But we are not, as a general thing, required to die ; we are merely required to part with a right arm, or a right leg, or some trifle of that sort, and when once the mutilation has been accomplished and the dreadful, inevitable reaction has set in, we are left to ask ourselves mournfully how we are to get through the rest of our existence in that maimed condition. It is not the loss but the process of growing accustomed to the loss that is so weary and so intolerable. Thus it was that Madame Souravieff, after she had 11 ^ %> IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) // €^y -^% y <^ /. C/j % % 1.0 I.I 1.25 ^M IIIIIM -;.; ilM mi t I4£^ 111112.0 1.4 1.6 V] <^ .^ /a m^ ^m s. ^ m .v /- y ^ Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER 'l.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 S: iP ,\ iV N> "^ V 4^ # 6^ rv ^ ^v'<-'' groundless ; but that it was his pleasing duty to relieve it. '* I have thought it advisable, madame," he added, "that before transporting the remains of my lamented brother to Russia, I should seek a personal interview with you, in order to explain clearly to you the conditions of his will and to warn you that non-compliance with these will entail forfeiture of the revenues to which you will otherwise be entitled." It now appeared that Madame Souravieff would be a very rich woman indeed, as long as she devoted no por- tion of her wealth to swelling the funds of secret political societies and withdrew from all connection with any such society to which she might already have become affiliated. " I am told," observed Count Paul, " that these stipu- lations may be difficult or even impossible for you to accept." " No," answered Madame Souravieff, quickly. *' Indeed ? I am glad to hear it, for your sake. It may perhaps occur to you that we have no means of ascertaining whether you keep to your engagement or not ; but I feel bound to caution you that that this is a mistake. The slightest breach of faith on your part will be promptly reported to us and as promptly acted upon " " Oh, I am quite aware of that," Madame Souravieflf replied with a laugh. ♦• Permit me once more to say that I^pm very glad, for your sake, to hear it. I believe I have now told you as much about the provisions of my late brother's will as you would be interested in hearing." " There are no further restrictions, then ? " Madame Souravieff asked, after a pause. '* Nothing is said as to — re-marriage for example." Count Paul, who had hitherto been irreproachably courteous, although he was not best pleased at parting with two-thirds of an inheritance which might have been his, forgot himself so far as to laugh outright at this. " Reassure yourself, madame," he answered ; " not a word is said upon that most important point. I congratu- late you upon the common sense, as well as the good taste, displayed by the question, and I have the honour to wish you good evening." A I m MISADVENTUBE. 377 It of Two days after this Madame Souravieff left Gastein on her return journey to Paris, without having again seen her brother-in-law. Messages had been exchanged througl) Victor, and her offer to accompany her husband's remains to Russia had been declined on behalf of his family, although her right to do as she pleased in the matter had not been disputed. She had replied that it did not please her to insist upon a privilege so grudgingly conceded, and in truth she was thankful to be set at liberty. For her intention now was to make straight for England, and she was in a terrible fright lest she should reach that country too late to avert an irremediable calamity. Two things comforted her and soothed her impatience on the way; she knew Mark's deliberate and cautious method of gomg to work, and she remembered how he had told her that she would always hold the first place in his heart. He had certainly said that he would marry her if she were free, and now she was not only free but rich. Of losing her riches she had no fear. She was not deeply implicated with the societies to which exception had been taken, and the duties which she had assumed could easily be got rid of It would be understood that she could be of far more service to the cause in a wealthy and inde- pendent capacity than by attending occasional councils and bringing no money to the chest. She proceeded as far as Munich, and was crossing the platform towards the retreshment-room in order to get some breakfast, when she almost ran into the arms of a burly gentleman in the attire of an English clergyman who ejaculated, " God bless my soul 1 " " One would think we were playing hide-and-seek all over Europe," laughed Madame Souravieff. •* One day I see you in Paris, another day in Bavaria ! Is it permitted to inquire whither you are bound ? " •♦ I am bound for home," Mr. Lowndes replied with a grave face. " I am sorry to say that I have sad news for our friends there. I am sure that you, too, will be sorry to hear of poor young Archie Bligh's death in Vienna, from a wound received in a duel. By a mere accident, I happened to put up at the hotel where he was lying, and so was able to be with him at the last. Under the cir< cumstances, I preferred going back to Abbotsport to finish* ing my holiday abroad." in^^ 378 MISADVENTURE. ; k Madame SouraviefF was really rather sorry. Archie had wearied her a good deal ; but, as will be remembered, she had objected to his being put to death and had hoped, without much expecting it, that his life might be spared. •' Poor young man ! " she exclaimed. •' Killed in a duel, you say ? That seems odd. Are you sure it was in a duel that he got his wound ? " '♦ Did you think it probable that he would be wounded m any other way ? " asked Mr. Lowndes, sharply, ♦* I know nothing about it The last time that I saw Mr. Bligh he was in good spirits and had no intention of leaving England, so far as I was aware I should have thought it improbable that he would find anybody to fight a duel with in Austria." ♦• Madame Souravieff," said the Rector, suddenly, " I daresay you will excuse my alluding to gossip which you may very likely have heard already. People in Abbots- port are under the impression that you had a good deal to do with Archie's disappearance- (( The report was not worth contradicting," interrupted Madame SouraviefF. •* I am not much surprised at such things having been said ; but there is no truth in them." " I never believed that there was ; and now I know that they were false. But what I believed all along, and now know to be a fact, is that your friend Chetwode was at the bottom of it. Is it taking a great liberty to ask whether you also are aware of that ? " Madame SouraviefF shrugged her shoulders. *' It may be as you say," she answered. '* If you know for a fact that it is so you know rather more than I do. Perhaps Mr. Bligh has confided something to you before he died ? " The Rector considered for a moment. He knew that the task which lay before him might not prove a simple one, and that Cicely would not necessarily take the same view of Mark's conduct as he did. No chance of secur- ing an ally ought, therefore, to be neglected, and for sev- eral reasons he thought it quite possible that Madame Souravieffs co-operation might be obtained. If, as he rather suspected, she did not desire this marriage, she would probably be able to give useful information with regard to Mr. Chetwode's antecedents ; if, on the other MISADVENTURE. 3^9 hand, she was in favour of it, no harm would be done by ascertaining her sentiments. The only question was whether he was entitled to reveal to her the circumstances under which Morton Bligh had met with his death. But as to this the Rector had already made up his mind that there nmst be no further concealment. Neither for Cicely's sake nor for the sake of Archie's memory was it desirable that Mark Chetwode and old Coppard should be left in a {)osition to threaten disclosures. The truth must be told, and people must form their own conclusions about it. Accordingly he said : — " If you can spare me ten minutes, I will be quite frank with you. My wife is in the refreshment-room, getting her breakfast, and I am supposed to be washing and shaving myself; so that we shall not be interrupted. To begin with, let me say in so many words that I am sure Chet- wode means to marry Cicely Bligh, if he can, and that 1 suspect him of having designedly brought about his rival's death." " You are cer ainly frank," observed Madame Soura- viefF, with a faint smile. •' Pray go on." Mr. Lowndes told his tale clearly and succinctly, as bese';med a man v.ho had no time to lose. " And now, Madame SouravieftV he concluded, '• 1 daresay you will understand why I have taken you into my confidence. I want to open Cicely's eyes, and I can- not feel sure that they will be opened by the facts that I have mentioned, although to my mind those facts speak for themselves plainly enough. You see, we know very little about Chetwode, whereas you, I believe, have been intimately acquainted with him for years. If, therefore, you were disposed to give me any help " " Oh, I am on your side," interrupted Madame Soura- vieff, laughing somewhat tremulously. " I could help you perhaps — there are circumstances — but I must have time to think ; all this has come upon me so suddenly I You are going straight to Abbotsport ? " " Yes, we shall stop nowhere. I have already been delayed much longer than I h?.d wished." " It is not unlikely that I also may go to Abbotsport, lor I wish to see Mr. Chetwode. Only it is absolutely necessary that I should spend a few days in Paris to buy 'tM 380 HISADVENTUBE. jiiifi li i / mourning. I forgot to tell you that my husband is dead." Mr. Lowndes began some conventional expressions of condolence, which she cut short unceremoniously. *' 1 am not afflicted," said she. " As you are aware, my husband and I did not live together, and you would not believe me if I were to feign regrets which I cannot feel. Still I must wear black for a time. Perhaps you had better tell Mr. Chetwode what has happened, and you may add — for I am sure he will be glad to hear it — that my husband has left me a great deal of money." After remaining silent for a moment, she asked, with the same uncertain sort of laugh : " Now do you understand in what way I can be of assistance to you ? " " Not quite," answered the Rector wonderingly. "Ah ! — well, never mind. At any rate I am with you ; and this I can promise : that marriage shall never take place. There are more ways than one of putting a stop to it ; only the best and simplest way would be that she would refuse him. I think you might persuade her to do that without my aid." " But suppose she has already accepted him ? " " In that case she would be obliged to have recourse to other measures. I do not believe that Mr. Chetwode is in love with her, I must tell you, and I do not believe that he was responsible, except indirectly, for that young man's death. But it is a matter of opinion, and you have a right to yours. Here comes your wife ; I think, if you will excuse me I would rather not stay and speak to her. We shall meet again soon." And Madame Souravieff walked quickly away, leaving the Rector to explain his unshaven chin and unwashed face to his consort. The revelation which had been made to Madame Sou- ravieff disturbed her less after she had had time to reflect upon it than it had done at first, Mark had not told her the truth ; but he might very well plead that he had not been authorised to do so, and as for his having taken advantage of an opportunity to remdve Archie from his path, that did not prove him to be in love with the girl whom he proposed to marry. In short, she would not let herself believe that it was possible to founder in sight of land. She had liberty, she had wealth, she had Mark's own assurance that he still loved her. M MISADVENTUR£. 381 386 MISADVENTURE. « 1 that he told you his reasons for leaving England ; because I am afraid you me.^n to distress Miss Bligh by repeating the story to her." " Mot undoubtedly I do." •• Well, it is for you to judge of the wisdom of such a proceeding. Am I mistaken in gathering from your tone that you think me to blame in this matter ? " *• I don't care to disguise what I think," answered the Rector bluntly. ♦* I think that Archie's death lies at your door ; I think you deceived him as to the character of the men to whom you irduced him to swear obedience , I think you knew that by swearing obedience he was virtu- ally throwing away his life ! and I believe you did all this because, for purposes of your own, you wished to get rid of him." ** These are serious accusations, Mr. Lowndes," ob- served Mark. •• I won't dwell upon the fact that they are both false and insulting, because clergymen, I believe, are licensed to say what they please without being called to account ; but I think you will see that you ought either to substantiate or withdraw them You charge me with having contrived Mr. Bligh's death for purposes of my own. To what purposes do you allude ? " The Rector did not much like answering the question, but could not see his way to shirk it. " I think," said he, " that you wanted him to break off the engagement to his cousin in order that you might marry her yourself." " I presumed that that was what you meant. But do you not see that, if that had been the case, I could very easily have got rid of him without sending him to Bulga- ria ? When Coppard told me what he had seen, it was evident that I could not allow Miss Bligh to marry her cousin until he had cleared himself of suspicion. Unhap- pily, he could not clear himself, and I suppose I should have been justified in repeating to her the information that I had received. I did not do so because, in the first place, I wished to avoid giving her pain, and, in the second, I wished to give the unlucky man a chance of escaping. As to the confraternity to which I was the means of intro- ducing him, I expressly warned him that assassination was D9t ^?;cluc}e4 from their list of weapons, although ( IHSADVENTURE. 887 because speating such a )ur tone ered the i at your er of the ience , I as virtu- 1 all this get rid ies," ob- they are ieve, are called to either to me with ;s of my [question, break off m might But do uld very Bulga- it was arry her Unhap- should ion that st place, jcond, I ing. As of intro- sination lOugh I thought it very unlikely that he would ever be employed as an assassin. I can only assure 3'ou that it is a matter of great surprise and regret to me that he should have been so employed." •• 1 can't acquit you, Mr. Chetwode," said the Rector stubbornly. "Many people would believe the account that you give of your conduct, but I don't ; and if that is an insult — well, of course it is an insult — I can't help it. I must incur the reproach of shelterinig myself behind my cassock, that's all." " My good sir," answered Mark blandly, " your insults do not make me feel sore. I am sorry that you do not reali^'^ how ridiculous they are ; but you are quite at lib- erty to repeat them to the entire neighbourhood. Impar- tial persons, I imagine, will know how to judge between us." " I don't care two straws about the neighbourhood," -returned the Rector ; " it it. of Cicely Bligh that I am thinking." * I hope Miss Bligh will understand that in acting as I did I had no motive except to spare both her and her cousin." •• She may take that view, but I don't think she will. She is too straightforward Your duty was plain enough ; you ought to have persuaded an unfortunate, panic- stricken fellow to stand up like a man and face the drunken rascal who was his only accuser Instead of that, you advised him to behave as though he had been guilty of murder, Imowing all the time that he was as innocent as you or I." " Pardon me, I did not know that. I may have believed in his innocence, but it was impossible for me to know. I had his word for it that he was innocent and another man's word for the contrary. You forget that he had already behaved as though he were guilty, and that con- fessions made under threat of exposure do not command much confidence. I doubt whether he could have cleared himself before the bar of public opinion, although I dare- say no jury would have convicted him upon Coppard's evidence." •' Oh, you have made yoUi slf very safe," answered Mr. Lowndes. " As I said before, I have no doubt that 38d MISADVENTU&S. ii !.- r' |; most people will exonerate you. But you will not be ex- onerated by me, nor, I think, will you be exonerated by Cicely. Meanwhile, I had better go in and see her. When I have had my say, you can have yours. I ought, by the way, to have mentioned to you that I came across your friend, Madame Souravieff, at a railway station on my way through Germany. She desired me to tell you that her husband is just dead and that he has left her a great deal of money. She said you would be glad to hear that." If Mark was glad, he certainly did not look so. For the first time in the course of this colloquy, his face tell and his pale cheeks turned a shade paler. More unwel- come news could hardly have reached him, for he well knew that Madame Souravieft's liberty meant the proba- ble termination of his own. " If only I had had the courage to risk proposing this afternoon," he thought ruefully, " I might now be able to point to an accomphshed fact." He said aloud : " I am sorry to hear of Count SouravieflTs death, but glad that he has provided handsomely for his widow. Did she tell you where she was going ? " •' Yes ; she was going to Paris. After that she in- tended to come to Abbotsport, for the purpose, as I understood, of seeing you." Between Munich and London the Rector had had leisure to weigh certain words which had fallen from the Russian lady, as well as to listen to his wife's comments upon the same. Consequently he was able to appreciate and enjoy the discomfiture of Mr Chetwode, who rejoined with raised eyebrows : — *• But if she comes to Abbotsport, where does she pro- pose to stay ? It would not be possible for me to receive her, I am afraid." •* She did not enter upon that question. I was only with her for ten minutes or so, and nearly all the time we were talking about other matters. About Archie Bligh's death, in fact. Well, Mr. Chetwode, I will wish you good evening now. It hasn't been pleasant for me to speak to you as I have done; but I couldn't speak in any other way." Mark raised his hat, turned on his heel, and walked away. His reflections as he tramped homewards were of be ex- ted by When by the 3s your on my ou that a great rthat." 0. For ace tell unwel- he well ; proba- ing this i able to '• I am i that he 5 tell you she in- se, as I had had rom the mments predate rejoined |she pro- receive ras only I time we Bhgh's ^ou good speak to |ny other walked were of MISADVENTURE. 38d the most gloomy description ; for he knew Madame Sour- a\ ieff well enough to know that she would not now tamely acquiesce in his marriage, and nothing was more certain than that she could prevent it if she chose. His only hope was in precipitating matters, so that he might be already engaged to Cicely when she arrived ; and that hope was but a poor one. Such as it was, however, it must be made the best of, for no other remained. If ^but it may be trusted that nothing so horrible can be true) the spirits of the departed are permitted to know what takes place in this world, the spirit of the late Count Souravieff must have been chuckling sardonically at that moment. CHAPTER L. CICELY DECIDES. Mr. Lowndes was not disappointed with the manner in which Cicely received the news which it was his duty to impart to her. He had hoped — but, bearing in mind the perversity of women, he had not been quite sure — that she would accept Archie's dying statement as true ; and it was a great relief to him to find that she did so unhesitatingly. ♦• I think Coppard has behaved very cruelly about it," she said. •* If only he had told the truth at nrst, all this misery would have been avoided." " Yes," sighed the Rector ; " but what is still more un- fortunate is that poor Archie himself did not tell the truth. Coppard, you must remember, probably believed him to be guilty. Well, it's useless to grieve over what ip done and can't be undone. My own feeling is that the worst cul- prit of all is that man Chetwode. I'm glad I met him just now, and had an opportunity of telling him just what I thought of him." " Yes," agreed Cicely musingly ; *• I am glad you met him." But she did not seem disposed to say much either for or against this neighbour of hers, and the Rector, before M'; 390 MISADVENTtJRE. taking his leave, could not refrain from uttering a few words of warning. ••You won't let that fellow talk you over, will you. Cicely ? He has a plausible tongue, and his case, as he puts it, doesn't seem so bad." •• You needn't be alarmed," answered Cicely. •• I took his part when you were all against him, and I still think I was right in taking his part, since I could not possibly guess the truth ; but there never was any danger of — of what you were afraid of." " Wasn't there ? So much the better, then. I myself, as you know, always gave you credit for being true to Archie in your heart. Mrs. Lowndes thinks differently ; but Mrs. Lowndes is not always right." •' She is right this time. I am dreadfully sorry — more than I can tell you — for what has happened, and it" he had lived 1 should have married him pek .aps — I don't know. But I never cared for him as he wished to be cared for, and I ought never to have accepted him. I suppose it isn't in me to care for anybody in that way." " As you are a human being, my dear," answered Mr. Lowndes, smiling, '• I think we may safely assume that you possess that capacity, and that the proper person will turn up in due season." Cicely shook her head. •• No ; I shall end my days as an old maid. Perhaps, after all, that is the wisest thing for an heiress to do. Aunt Susan, who is always protesting that she means to go away, will stay and take care of me, I daresay." But this modest programme, when unfolded to Miss Skipwith later in the evening, proved to be not at all to that lady's taste. She had made up her mind that Mark Chetwode was the right husband for Cicely, and she was not to be moved from her opinion because it was pointed out to her, firstly, that Mr. Chetwode was not a formal candidate for the honour in question ; secondly, that Cicely had never regarded him as more than a friend ; and, thirdly, that grave doubts must now be felt even as to his friendliness. •• Ah, that is it ! " she exclaimed. •• You are angry with him for not having at once told you all he knew. As if he had any right to betray other people's secrets 1 It seems MISADVENTURE. 391 a few ill you. , as he ♦' I took think 1 possibly r of— of [ myself, true to erently ; y — more it" he had 't know, ired for, ippose it ered Mr. ime that rson will 'erhaps, lo. Aunt IS to go to Miss at all to kat Mark she was pointed formal fly, that id ; and, IS to his jry with [As if he It seems to me that he behaved with the utmost kindness and con- sideration both to you and to that misguided young man. Of course, all that about the secret society and the duel is very sad and very dreadful ; but I don't see how you can blame Mr. Chetwode for it." " I didn't say that I blamed him, did I ? " asked Cicely, who in truth had said very little upon the subject. '* No, but you evidently do blame him, and I think that is most unfair. If he had wished to do your cousin an ill turn, what would have been simpler for him than to denounce the murderer ? Now, you need not look so angry, my" dear ; I am not saying for one moment that your cousin was a murderer. Only I think you must ad- mit that he behaved like one, and that it was for him, not for Mr. Chetwode, to disprove Coppard's assertions." It was, in fact, tolerably apparent that Miss Skipwith was not quite convinced of Archie's innocence ; and as she was a person to whom conviction could not easily be brought home. Cicely said no more. When Mark arrived at the Priory on the following morning, the old lady, who had witnessed his approach from an upper window, ran down into the hall and inter- cepted him. ** Oh, Mr. Chetwode," she whispered breathlessly (for the servants were within hearing), **may I say one word to you before you see Cicely ? She has been very much distressed by this sad news which Mr. Lowndes has brought us, and f fear she is not best pleased with you about it. But she will come round — I am sure she will come round if you still have patience. I do want you to be patient with her to-day." ** If I have any virtue at all," answered Mark, " I sup- pose it is patience. At all events, I can promise to lose neither my patience nor my temper with Miss Bligh. Thank you for preparing me, though." He passed on with a smile upon his lips, but with a sinking pain at his heart ; for he was pretty sure that if Cicely had begun by condemning him, his pleas in justi- fication of what he had done would have but little effect upon her. His hope had been that she would be driven to range herself on his side by the hostile bias of Mr. Lowndes. And so, when he was shown into her presenc^i h^r frigid ^r'-etin^ did not take him by surprise, J 392 MISADVENTURE. I i-: I n I! •• I am glad that Mr Lowndes has returned safe and sound," he began ; •• but I am afraid that what you have heard from him has made you unhappy." •' It has certainly made me unhappy," answered Cicely; •'from fiist to last it seems to have been a series of wretched mistakes and misfortunes. Archie would have been alive now if he had had an honest friend to advise him." ♦♦ You mean, of course, that I was not an honest friend to him. Yet I endeavored to be so, and if the case were to arise again I should not act differently. Mr. Lowndes and I had something like an altercation about it yesterday, as I daresay you have heard. I didn't convince him ; but perhaps I may be able to convince you. Will you at least allow me to try ? " •' If you wish," answered Cicely. ** I fully admit that I was more desirous of serving and protecting you than him, and that you were my first thought throughout ; nevertheless, I helped him to tl - best of my ability. Knowing what I knew, I could not possibly stand aside and see you married to him ; but I thought there was no occasion for your ever hearing the painful circumstances connected with your brother's death. Bligh himself admitted that there was nothing for him to do but to leave the place, and he was very anxious to see active service somewhere. It was to gratify his wish that I introduced him to these Bulgarian patriots, who are always upon the point of getting up an insurrection and perhaps will get one up some day. So far I have nothing to regret. What I do regret extremely is that they should liave employed him as they did You don't, I hope, imagine that I had anything to do with that ? " •' Oh, no ; I could not believe such a thing 1 " •' Mr. Lowndes apparently does ; but that is of no consequence. The fact is that I knew these men did not stick at assassination, and I said as much to Bligh ; but I added what I thought was the truth, that they were most unlikely to select him for work of that kind, and why they did it I cannot in the least understand. From the moment that he disobeyed them, they were sure to inflict the pen- alty of death upon him ; he must have been made aware of that when he took the oath," MiSADVBNtURS. dd.l afe and Du have [Cicely; eries of Id have 3 advise it friend ise were ^owndes isterday. im ; but i at least ving and my first 1 to t) 2 ;ould not i; but I iring the •'s death. )r him to us to see ish that who are ion and nothing y should I hope, IS of no 1 did not h ; but I ere most vhy they moment the pen« le aware Mark paused ; but Cicely seemed to have no observa- tion to make. It was only when he was about to speak again that she checked him by saying : — " I suppose you knew all this time how he had died, did you not ? " •* I knew nothing at all about it," answered Mark. It has already been mentioned that his standard of veracity was not that of the ordinary Briton. " You guessed, perhaps. At any rate, you could not have thought that he had been killed in the way that you suggested to me." •• Are you displeased with me because I deceived you?" asked Mark. *• But what else could I do ? My own wish was to spare you the pain of this discovery, and if I did not tell you the truth — which, as far as that goes, I was not at liberty to do — I could only suggest something to you which was not the truth." " Was it necessary to suggest calumnies about your IViend Madame Souravieff ? But I daresay your intentions were good, and I suppose I ought to thank you for having K.oubled yourself to consider my feelings." •* Do you remember what I told you yesterday ? " asked Mark. " I said there was nothing in the world that I would not do for you , and certainly I would do much worse things for your sake than to attribute one additional flirtation to Madame Souravieff. I think I had better say now that you must have guessed long ago — that I love you with all my heart and soul. I know very well that I am no match for you ; I am neither rich enough, nor great enough, nor young enough, nor worthy of you in any way whatsoever. Yet — nobody will ever love you again as I love you. And sometimes I have dared to hope that, as \ou had allowed me to be your friend, you might at length be induced to let me be more than your friend." He spoke clearly, but his voice broke once or twice, and she could see that his hands were trembling. There was at least no doubt about his being in earnest, and that perhaps made her answer him more gently than she had at first intended to do. She said : — ** I am very sorry that you have had hopes of that kind, Mr. Chetwode, but I don't think I have ever done anything to encourage them. I did look upon you as a friend, and I should still, if " 394 MISADVENTURE. 'i : ■ i : ■ '■ h . ] \ » i ■ ■ " Ah ! " interrupted Mark, '* don't cast me off because I acted in what seemed to me the only possible manner to act. Try for one moment to imagine yourself situated as I was : what w^ould you have done ? " '• I should have told the truth," answered Cicely promptly ; " or at all events I should have persuaded Archie to tell it. But, as I said before, I am willing to believe that you meant well. Only you and I evidently look at things from different points of view." " That means that you can't or won't forgive me. Let us say, then, that I was altogether wrong ; is it no excuse that I did wrong for love of you ? " " I don't think you quite understand," said Cicely, evadmg a direct reply, " that all this has nothing to do with my refusing you I could not marry a man whom I do not love." " Yet you were ready to marry your cousin without loving him." " Yes ; I accepted him, and I was wrong. I would not do it again, even to please my father, who wished for it so much. You cannot suppose that I shall repeat the mistake in the case of another person, who has no such claim upon me." For some seconds Mark sat silent and motionless, gaz- ing at the opposite "'all, His self-possession, which had been momentarily shaken, seemed to have returned to him, and it was m his customary level voice that he said : — •♦ I did not flatter myself that you cared for me ; I was prepared to bo rejected. Still, when one has only a single hope in life, oiie likes to assure oneself that it is quite dead before burying it. I must not ask the question ; but I believe I may assume that you don't love any man. So long as that is the case, may there not be yet the shadow of a chance for a man who cannot live without you ? " '♦ Not the very smallest," answered Cicely, somewhat more harshly, for she thought his language exaggerated. " I don't know how I can be more explicit than I have been. If you were to ask a hundred times I could only give you the same answer." " You are absolutely certain of that ? «' Absolutely certain." u MISADVENTURE. 39.- I was single dead but I So ladow jwhat rated. have only *• Then," said Mark, rising slowly, •* I know the worst Which is always a sort ol comfort, is it not ? " His face was dpadly pale, and the smile which he forced his lips to assume was not participated in by hii- eyes. " Good-bye, Miss Bligh," he added presently. ♦* I shall never see you again." '• Oh, why should you say that I " exclaimed Cicely, lor she was really shocked by the man's appearance. ♦* We cannot help meeting again if you stay here, and — and if I have spoken unkindly I am sorry for it. I can't pretend to be pleased with the way you have behaved about Archie ; but I shall try not to think of that." " It does not signify," answered Mark, with the same sickly smile. " Whether you think well or badly of me, or forget me altogether, it will make no difference, for 1 shall never know. In a few days' time I shall leave Up- ton Chetwode, and it is very certain that I shall not return. If I believed in astrology, I should say that I had been born under an unlucky star ; but I haven't even the good fortune to believe in that or in anything else. Goodbye." He turned away without shaking hands, and did not so much as turn his head when he reached the door for a List look at the girl whom he loved. Cicely was sorry for him ; but he was not the first man wliom she had been com- pelled to reject, and she had reason to believe that the pain caused by rejection does not last for any moderate length of time. Was not Bobby Dare, for instance, a striking example of the facility with which such wounds may be healed I CHAPTER LI. MARK TAKES LEAVE OF ABBOTSPORT. After dinner that evening Mark said to his faithful French valet : — •• Have you had enough of England, Louis ? " The man made uy articulate reply, but shrugged bis» »96 MISADVENTURE. and drew upon leave shoulders, displayed the palms of his hands down the corners of his mouth expressively. ♦♦ Well, you will soon be able to turn your back ihis dreary island. I have made up my mind to Upton Chetwode and I daresay I shall have wound up my affairs by to-morrow night. You have served me very well, Louis, and, all things considered, you have grumbled wonderfully little. It is only fair that I should make you 'I small present now that I am closing the establishment." Two five-pound notes were then handed to the factotum, whose astonishment was not less profound than his grati- i ude ; for though Mr. Chetwode had never been an illiberal aiaster, he could not afford to give away ten pounds every lay, and of this his servant was well aware. The whole of the next morning Mark was engaged in writing, in looking through old letters and papers and in destroying them, when read. In the afternoon he saw his bailiff and his gardener, informed them that he was about to quit England for good, and added that the place would in all probability be let again before long. To each of the three house-servants he gave a month's wages in lieu of warning, together with gratuities which they considered handsome. He had not hitherto taken much notice of any of them, which was perhaps the reason why the/ nov.' sang his praises loudly and regretted his proposed c epai - ture. It is scarcely necessary to add that they couIq form a shrewd guess as to the cause of this abrupt retrt. it on his part, and it was their opinion that he bore h^ s dis- appointment admirably. He looked a little sad, i . was true, and there were dark semicircles under his eyes ; but they had never known him so affable before, nor could they think that Miss Bligh had been well advis< d in refusing a gentleman whose temper was under such pt^.rfect control. His self-control was about to be put to a tolerably severe test ; for at five o'clock Louis came into his ;tudy to announce that Madame Souravieff was in the drawing- room. "Already!" he ejaculated involuntarily. Bjit he passed his hand over his forehead as if to smooth, away the frown which had gathered there, and went at once to receive his visitor. .nd drew Lck upon to leave nd up my me very grumbled make you ishment." factotum, his j^rati- ,n illiberal nds every n gaged in ers and in le saw his ivas about ace would ach of the in lieu of onsidered notice ot the^ nov; ed c epar- oulo form retrt it on re hi 3 dis- ad, 1 . was eyes ; but nor could dvis< d in ch pt^rfect tolerably his ;tudy ! drawing- BTit he Doth. away at once to MISADVENTURE. on* He found her standing by the window, looking rather unlike herself in her deep mourning. There was a briglu colour in her cheeks, and she seemed to be agitated and excited. •' You expected me ? ** was the first thing that she said. •' Not quite so soon," answered Mark, with his faint smile. '• Mr. Lowndes told me that you were coming here ; but he said you were bound for Paris in the first instance." '• I went to Paris ; but one » annor get dresses made in a week, and I was devoured wnh impatience. I bought some ready-made abominatiora — after all, what did it signify ? Now tell me at once, and tell me quickly — is all well ? " " All is well," answered Mark tranquilly. *• I am as free as it is possible to be ; for I have done what you wished me to do, and Miss Bligh has refused me in the mopt unambiguous terms." Madame Souravieff drew a long breath. *' If you knew how frightened I have been !" she ex- claimed. *• I had a presentiment that I should find you engaged to that girl, and that you would tell me in your cold way that honour compelled you to fulfill your engage- ment. Thank God, I shall not now be driven to do things of which I should have been ashamed afier they were done!" " I think you must really care a little for me, Olga," said Mark. " Yes — a little," she answered, with an unsteady laugh. •' It isn't wrong or dangerous to tell you so any longer. I never told you so before ; I always held you rather at arm's length, didn't I ? But now — now 1" Well, now there was only one thing to be done, and Mark did it manfully What his thoughts and feelings may have been while the woman he had once loved wa.-> sobbing on his shoulder, it is needless to inquire too closely. Perhaps a little shame and a little regret were included amongst them. No doubt, too, he was glad that she believed him to be by nature undemonstrative. When she had calmed down a little and had seated herself in one of the easy chairs which she had left in Mark's scantily-furnished abode on the expiration of her 398 MISADVENTLKE. / i I tenancy, a passing feeling of curiosity prompted him to ask : *' What would you have done, Olga, if you had found n\e formally betrothed to Miss Bligh ?" " 1 suppose," answered Madame Souravieff, " I should have gone to her and told her that you were not in love with her, but with me ; that I had urged you to marry her because you were poor and she was rich, and that, beinfi now rich and independent myself, I no longer cared tu resign you to her. It would have been humiliating for nic and I should have hated myself afterwards for having done it ; but I believe that is what I should have done. Did she give any reason for refusing you ?" " The best of all reasons ; she had no sort of love for me, she said." •' Yet it seemed to me — but no matter ! All that is over and done with ; we are going to be happy now and orget the miserable past. Shall we live in England, Mark?" •* That is for you to decide. For my own part I should prefer almost any other country. I have no very pleas- ant associations with this place, and I am not sure that we should be precisely popular with our neighbours. There is a prevalent impression among them that you or 1, or both of us, are answerable for the disappearance of that unfortunate young bligh, and the true history of that dis- appearance, which will probably be made public before long, will scarcely tend to exonerate me in their eyes. By the way, I am at hberty to tell you the true history now." " You need not ; I heard it ail from Mr. Lowndes, and I forgive you for having misled me about it. Besides, what do I care, so long as you love me ? When I spoke cbout living in England I didn't mean living here, which would suit neither of us. We are accustomed to the life o»f cities, and we can't do without it, except for an inter- val of repose every now and then. In London we should have friends and interests, and if you could obtain a seat in Parliament, which ought not to be difficult " '* I might use my natural powers of eloquence on behalf of the cause of Panslavism." " Without joking, an English member of Parliament who understood something about Russia would be a valua- MISADVBKTURK. 399 to ble man to both countries. Apropos, I am taking leave of certain friends of ours. That poor Boris made it a con- dition of his will that I should withdraw from all secret political societies, and fortunately I am able to comply. Still — England is a safe country." Mark acquiesced. He seemed ready to acquiesce in anything and everything and did not even wince when his companion said plainly that she saw no reason for defer- ring their marriage. He only observed : — •• I suppose there will be certain preliminary formalities to be gone through. *• Oh, yes ; but they will not occupy more than a few weeks, I should think, and of course the ceremony will be performed in the quietest possible manner. And then we could go away to some quiet place and nobody would know anythi r about it until a decent interval had elapsed. We might c\ a part for a time if you thought it better." •• It is better to be as conventional as one can, per- haps. And that reminds me that your being here is just a shade unconventional. I don't wish to seem inhospit- able; but " " Did you think I had come to stay with you ? " asked Madame Souravieff, laughing. '• My dear Mark, I am not quite so devoid of all sense of propriety as that. I am only paying a friendly call, and presently I shall return to the Seven Stars, where I have engaged rooms." " The Seven Stars 1 " exclaimed Mark. •♦ But you can- not possibly stay there ; it is nothing but a village public- house I " •• I can't help it if Abbotsport provides such poor ac- commodation for travellers. I had to find some sort of a roof to shelter me, and I daresay they will be able to give me some eggs and bacon to eat, which is all that I want." •* Yes ; but I wasn't thinking of the discomfort. By this time it is probably known all over the place that you are here, and I leave you to imagine what inferences will be drawn from your presence." " Really I don't very much care what Abbotsport thinks or says of me. However, you will be relieved to hear that I have taken all due precautions. I announced, immediately after my arrival, that I had come down to set: about the furniture which I left here, and I am now sup s ■r i 1 ■'ii iOO MISADVENTURE. ^osed to be taking an inventory of it. Taking an inven- tory is a tedious process, isn't it ? One might perhaps prolong the operation over three days without exciting astonishment." •* I don't think you could spend three days in a way- side tavern," answered Mark. ** Besides, there is no occasion for it. The best plan would be for you to go up to London to-morrow, and on on the following day I could join you. I shall have finished all that I have to do here by that time." " Well, perhaps you are right. The Seven Stars is neither as clean nor as quiet as it might be, and I am not particularly anxious to meet Miss Bligh or Mr. Lowndes or any of these people. Mark, I want you to tell me something — only I suppose you won't." '♦ What is it ? " inquired Mark. " Are you sure that you are not a little disappointed at losing that girl ? " " Do I look like a disappointed man ? " ' " You don't 1 ook like anything — you never do. But I can't forget that she is young and pretty, while 1 am — " •' You aie yourself, my dear Olga Isn't that enough." *• It is, if you think so." '♦ Apparently I think so We shall never be any younger, you and I ; we have passed tuv; age of passionate love, or at all events v e ought to have passed it ; our ideas of happiness are not what they used to be. You see that when you think of the future, you dream of politics and society and ambition, you don't dream of a cottage in a sequestered valley. Still there is no reason why two peo- ple of our time of life should not be happy together in their own way." " How cold you are ! " exclaimed Madame Souravieff. *' I was hot enough in the old days, wasn't 1 ? It was you who used to chill me then." " I was obliged to be chilling sometimes. But I loved you then and I love you now." Mark sighed and looked at her for a moment with a certain air of sadness and contrition. Then he abruptly lowered his eyes. " Yet if I were to die to-morrow you wouldn't weep for rae very long," he remarked. MISADVENTURF, 401 an mven- t perhaps t exciting in a wa)'- lere is no I to go up ly I could to do here I Stars is I am not Lowndes tell me ointed at do. But 1 am—" enough." r be any issionate our ideas see that itics and age in a wo peo- ?ether in uraviefT. It was I loved : with a abruptly iveep for For an instant Madame SouraviefF seemed inclined to quarrel with him ; but she thought better of it and only laughed. " I should weep for you longer than you deserved," she returned ; ** longer than you would weep for me, I suspect. However, I hope you will survive until the day after to- r.^rrowj when you will find me and your dinner waiting at the Hotel Metropole. As nobody will know or care any- thing about us there, we may take the liberty of dining together, I suppose." After Madame Souravieff had left him, Mark gave a great sigh, which it was well that she could not hear, be- cause it was only too evidently one of relief. He then returned to his papers, and spent the remainder of the afternoon and evening in his study, only leaving it for half an hour at dinner time. The next morning he told Louis there was nothing more to be done except to pack up. " I am going down to the village to pay a few bills," he added ; *' if I am not m by two o'clock you will know that I don't want any luncheon. See that Madame Soura- viefFs furniture is separated from the rest,'SO that it may be sent up to London when it is wanted." He gave a few more orders and then, leaving the house, sauntered for the last time down the hill towards Abbots- port. It was a sunny morning, but the grass was still drenched with the heavy autumn dew, and a haze hung upon the surface of the calm sea. High overhead the pale blue sky was streaked with mare's tails for the ad- monition of the weather-wise, while every point and head- land along the broken coastline stood out with curious distinctness. But Mark, who did not raise his eyes from the ground as he walked, took no note of the sea, sky or shore, nor did he care whether a change of weather were brewing or not. When he reached the village he quick- ened his pace and was soon down upon the beach, where he had so often chanced to meet Cicely. He did not meet her now — indeed he would not have been there if there had been any risk of meeting her at that hour of the day — but presently he encountered a seafaring man, who touched his hat and whom he scrutinised keenly for a moment before saying : — " Well, Coppard." 402 MISADVENTURE. / ^^ 5 ^ '- ■ 1 ■ i i ^ i 1^:.^^ " Well, sir," returned Coppard in somewhat aggrieved accents. " I imagine from the look of your face, that you have seen Mr. Lowndes." •' Seen him yesterday afternoon," answered Coppard sullenly. *' Now I don't bear no grudge agin parsons for preachin' ; 'tis their trade to preach and they must do the best they can at it once a week, same as butchers and bakers and chimney-sweepers must on the other days. But I don't see no need for sermons out o* church, nor yet I don't care to be called a liar, whether by parson or layman." " Has Mr. Lowndes been calling you a liar ?" inquired Mark, smiling. " Well there ! I don't know what he didn't call me. ' Dear me, sir !' I says at last, ' to hear the way you go on, anybody'd think as I bin paid to keep back what I know, or else paid for tellin' of it. Whereas ' I says, * tis no such thing. Little enough did I see o' that pore )roung gentleman's money, and little enough of Mark Chetwod*;'s either if you come to that.' " " You shall see a sovereign of Mark Chetwode's money now," said Mark, producing that coin. •* I really couldn't offer you payment before, it wouldn't be prudent. But now everything is to be made known, it seems ; added to which I am on the pomt of leaving the place ; so I can do as I please. Did Mr. Lowndes give you any instructions as to what you were to reveal ?" ♦* I don't know as I rightly understand you, sir." *• Did he tell you that you were to say you saw Mr. Bligh push his cousin over the cliff?" '• He did not, sir. That's just what he went so far as to call a lie." " It was rude of him to use such words, but as to the fact he was right ; because you didn't see that, you know. What you did see, according to your own account, was that one of the men rolled over the cHff and that the other was within an ace of following him. The truth, I believe, is that Morton Bligh tried to murder his cousin and very iiearly succeded, and that his death was an accident." " That's what the Rector says, sir," observed Coppard. " Well you are not in a position to corftradict him, I MISADVENTURE. 403 Mr. should say. I think he and Miss Bhgh are making a mistake in saying anything about the matter; but they must do as they consider best. Only, as you have always professed to be attached to Miss Bligh, I hope you won't add to the distress which all this is certain to cause her by pretending to know more than you actually do know." Coppard asseverated, truly enough, that from first to last his wish had been to avoid distressing Miss Cicely, and Mark replied : — " Well, I believe you. Of course you can understand that the only thing for you to do now is to back up her account of the affair. Now, Coppard, do you think you could find me a boat ? I have a fancy for pulling out into the bay this fine morning." ♦• I'll take 'ee out, sir," answered Coppard. " Want any lines and bait ? " ♦• No, thank you ; and I shan't want you either. I am going out by myself." '• As you please, sir ; but don't you get too far from shore. 'Tis comin' on to blow afore long, you may depend, and if you was to have the wind and tide agin you, I don't know but what you might find the job a bit more'n you could manage." •♦ Oh, I'll take care of myself," answered Mark, and soon afterwards he was seated in the little open boat which Coppard had as usual borrowed from a neighbour. He pulled, with long, steady strokes^ straight out to sea, while Coppard, who had stood watching him for a minute or two, went up to the Seven Stars to get change for the sovereign and drink a glass or so of beer for tlie good of the house. How many glasses of beer Coppard had drunk before the gale which raged for the next twenty-four hours had begun to announce itself with gusts from the north-east- ward it is needless to inquire. He was at all events quite sober and a good deal alarmed at three o'clock in the afternoon, when the sea was covered with white-crested waves and no trace of Mr. Chetwode or the borrowed boat could be discovered. Whatever may have been Coppard's feelings, want of pluck was not one of them. He persuaded two of his mates to join him on board a lugger and bore away down the channel in search of the r ^1 \i 404 MISADVENTURE. missing man, who, ?s he very well knew, must either have got ashore somewhere or be in imminent peril by that time. They had a rough experience of it, running before the wind, and a still rougher one when they had to beat back against it, after finding the boat, which was floating bottom upwards some ten miles away to the south-west- ward ; but of Mark Chetwode nothing was ever seen again. The sea does not give up its dead, and dead men tell no tales. There was nothing in the circumstances to justify a suspicion of suicide ; yet more than one person was secretly convinced that when Mark pushed off from shore that morning he had no intention of returning. Be that as it may, one may safely take it for granted that the loss of his life was less bitter to him than the loss of all that he had cared to live for He was a man who had never been much liked and had probably been only once loved — which in itself was tantamount to saying that he had been singularly unlucky For his good qualities were really in excess of his bad ones, and if the latter had seemed to hold more sway over his conduct than the former, that also perhaps, had been rather the result of bad luck than of deliberate choice. As he himself hail foreseen would be the case, he was very soon forgotten. ! I 1 . CHAPTER LH. ? I 'P :n CONCLUSION. One afternoon, some weeks after the events chronicled in the last chapter. Cicely Blijjh went out for a ride all by herself. It seemed probable that whether she rode or drove or walked in future, she would be all by herself ; and that, no doubt, was one reason why she was in very low spirits. Solitude, which is sad tor everybody, is doubly sad for the young. Cicely, looking forward into the future, saw that there would henceforth be no com- panionship for her save that of Miss Skipwith, and although she was sure of having plenty of duties to fill up her time, she was equally sure that there would be very few pleasures to relieve the monotony of managing a large estate. If MISADVENTURB. 401 you are happy, it is an immense blessing to be^also rich . but if you are unhappy, wealth is but a poor compensation to fall back upon, and Cicely thought she had good reasons for being unhappy. One short year had robbed iier of so much ! She had lost her tather ; she had lost her cousin, who had at least been her true lover ; finally she had lost one whom she would fain have believed to be her true friend, Nothing remained to her except material comfort, and as she had enjoyed that all her life long, she naturally set little store by it. However, she thought a gallop would do her good, and when she had reached the breezy downs and had given her horse his head she certainly did feel all the better for the fresh air and exer- cise (Dnly, as she was returning homewards in the dusk of evening, her heart began to sink once more. She knew what was before her — ^dinner with Aunt Susan, a little playing of the piano while Aunt Susan nodded in her chair ; then bed, but not necessarily sleep. And it would be the same to-morrow night and the next night and for an endless vista of coming nights. One must be forty at the very least to contemplate such an outlook without shuddering. Now, while Cicely was still some little distance from her own door> she descried in front of her the figure of a certain young man whom she recognised and, touching her horse with her heel, she cantered across the grass until she overtook him, not ill-pleased to lay aside her sombre meditations for a time. Bobby Dare turned round when she drew rein beside him, and took off his hat. *" I was going to pay my respects to you," said he. " Are you at home ? " " I shall be presently," answered Cicely. " As I have met you, we may as well walk on together." She beckoned to her groom and, telling him to trot on to the stables, jumped lightly to the ground, disregarding Bobby's proffered assistance. '* It seems ages since I saw you last," she went on in a very friendly tone — for indeed Bobby had spent the pre ceding fortnight in London. " How is your arm now ? You jiave discarded the sling, I see." ♦• Oh, yes," he answered cheerfully ; " I've discarded the 406 MISADVENTURE. -r? ii sling, and I'm pronounced to be fit for service. I hope tc be afloat again before long." " You don't mean to leave the Navy, then ? " asked Cicely, and there seemed to be a slight suspicion of dis- appointment in her voice. " Not for worlds ! Why should I ? " " Well, I thought that, as you are rich now, or at least compaiatively rich — and by the way, I have never had an opportunity of telling you how glad I was to hear that poor Archie had left his money to you. He could not have left it to a truer friend." " Thank you for saying so ; but I'm afraid I don't de- serve to have such things said of me. The truth is that if I befriended him it wasn't so much for his sake as for yours." " You did your best to befriend us both, and I suppose you were right in almost everything that you said, and I ought to eat a great dish of humble pie. Only I can't even now feel convinced that Mr. Chetwode was quite as bad as you thought him. And — and he is dead, you see ! " Bobby nodded. He had not altered his opinion of Mark ; but there was no longer any occasion for him to give expression to it. After a short interval of silence, he reverted to the original topic of discussion. " Of course I could afford to live without any profession now," he said, " and my people rather want me to retire ; but it seems to me that I should be a very great fool if I did. I couldn't spend the rest of my life loafing about down here with nothing to occupy me." " I suppose you couldn't," agreed Cicely. " Selfishly speaking, I am sorry that you are going away, because I shall miss you dreadfully ; but for your own sake I am glad." '* Will you really miss me ? " asked Bobby ; " or do you only say that out of kindness ? " " I say it because it is true. I haven't so many friends left here that I can afford to lose one." " Well," observed Bobby, " it is something to know that you look upon me as a friend." Did I ever look upon you as anything else ? " *• one time I thought you did. I seemed to be 1 t; ^' r.ieddlesome, and perhaps I was ;. but I couldn't MtSADVENTtTRE. 407 i« Oh, you were right. Haven't I just confessed as much ? " *' My intentions were good at all events. 1 said to my- self : 'As there is no hope for you, you might as well give another honest fellow a chance, if you can.' " He added, after a momentary pause, " I suppose there is no hope ? " •• I don't quite know what you mean," answered Cicely, with pardonable mendacity. ** I mean, of course, that I love you. and that I always shall. Jane says I ought to ask you again, but I know its quite useless." ** I thought you had got over that long ago," said Cicely, without looking at him. " Oh, no, I haven't got over it and I don't expect to get over it. I'm not sure that I even wish to get over it. But I have never deceived myself about the matter. You may not have cared for anyone else ; but you have cer- tainly never cared for me." Cicely raised her eyes for a moment and glanced at the handsome young face beside her. All of a sudden she seemed to know that she always loved him. It was hardly a discovery : it was only an admission, and if she had not made the admission to herself before, that was only be- cause she had imagined that his boyish flame had died down. Nevertheless, she felt that it would be impossible for her to accept him. Within the last few months she had been engaged to one man and had been upon the point — or at any rate everybody thought so — of engaging herself to another ; could she, now that her two lovers were dead, seem to console herself with this third one as a pis-aller ? No 1 that would be too humiliating and would look too heartless. So she replied : — " I am very grateful to you, and I only wish I were more worthy of your love ; but — but you will find some- body more worthy in time. As for me, I shall never marry." *' You mean that you will never marry me," observed Bobby, smiling. " Well — I knew that." They walked on in silence for some little distance ; but when they neared the house Bobby resumed : — ** I don't think I'll go in with you. One can't talk when one knows that one will have to say good-bye in a few minutes. I'll say good-bye now, please," h 408 MISADVENTURE. ■' ''H ■'i . r i " Are you going away immediately, then ? " asked Cicely. "Yes, I hope so. There's nothing to keep me here now, and though I didn't in the least expect any other answer than the answer that you have given me, still — it is, in a sort of way, a disappointment. Do what one trill, one can't quite help hoping against hope." Cicely gave him her hand. •♦ Well," she said, " good-bye, if it must be good-bye." She added, half involuntarily, •• Don't forget me." Now it is evid*»nt that ordinary* kindness of feeling should have made her wish that he might forget her , and even if she did not wish it, it would have been only in accordance with immemorial custom to say that she did. Possibly some dim perception of this may have crossed his mind, for he coloured up suddenly and looked her straight in the face, which he had not done before. '* I don't know," Cicely said to him about ten minutes afterwards, ♦• how you can have seen anything in my face that you might not have seen long ago, if you hadn't been so desperately stupid. But perhaps you weren't really as stupid as you pretended to be. I believe you knew all about it from the first — though I assure you I didn't." " The first ?" repeated Bobby wonderingly. *• What do you call the first ? Not that miserable night of the dance, when you refused me in such decisive terms ?" ♦• Yes, that same wretched night. I was dreadfully unhappy after it, and though I didn't know why I was unhappy, you might have known. Are you sure you didn't?" " I am quite sure," answered Bobby ; " and until a few minutes ago I was quite sure that you cared about as much for me as you do for — for old Lowndes. When I wake up to-morrow morning I shall certainly think that all this is a dream." '♦ You will very soon be convinced that it is an awful reality," sighed Cicely. •♦ People won't exactly condole with you, because I am so rich ; but I'm afraid they will congratulate you in a rather ironical manner, and I know just what they will say about me." However, Cicely did her neighbours an injustice ; for nobody said anything disagreeable about her when it was MISADVENTURE. 500 asked snnounced that she was engaged to Bobby Dare, nor did anyone grudge him his good fortune. The general opinion was that she might have done a great deal worse ; and in lliis instance the general opinion was probably correct — which is not always the case. For Cicely is ruled by her affections, and as she adores her husband, who is a very sensible man, there is good reason to hope that the duties of which he has declined to relieve her will be discharged more satisfactorily than they would have been, had she carried out her intention of remaining single. Nothing more has been seen or heard of Madame Sou- raviefF in Abbotsport, but the outer world sees a good deal oi her. For some time after Mark Chetwode's death she lived in the strictest seclusion, and when she somewhat abruptly emerged from it, all traces of youth had left her. Her hair is grey, her face is lined, and at times she looks very sad ; but more often she is cheerful and talkative and busied with political affairs. For in this world everything comes to an end — sorrow and joy and love and life itself. Stories, too, come to an end at last, and patient readers are released. 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An Algonquin Maiden. By G. M. Adam and A. E. Wetherald d§ 301. Charlie Ogilbie. By Leslie Vaughan 2S Bryce'8 Detective Series. Canadian Capyrlghti ... IllumlnatBd Cavers. 37. The Mystery ol SL James' Park. By J. B. Burton 26 40. The Case of Dr. Piemen. By Bene de Pont- Jest 30 41. Bewitching Iza. By Alexis Bouvier 26 42. A Wily Widow. By Alexis Bouvier 25 62. A Dangerous Catspaw. By David Christie Murray 25 64. The Crime of the Golden Gully. By G. Bock 26 200. The Man from the West By a WaU Street Man 80 201. 109. ^^Wi ,!' (I I BKCCES HOME SERIEb 1. Tm NliMt In ■ Bar Room. By T. S. Arthur 96 t. How lobe Hippy Though Married 36 So. " •• •« •• Cloth edition 60 8. Mr. Barnes of New York. By Archibald O. Oanter 26 4. Mr. Potter of Texas. By Archibald C. Ounter 86 5. Rudder Grange. By Frank U. Rtockton 36 6. Qeoflhrey's Victory. By Mrs. Oeorgie Bheldon 26 7. Olive Varcoe. By Mrs. F. E. U. Notley 26 26 9. Napoleon Smith. By a Well-known New-Torker 25 10. Roberi Elsmere. By Mrs. Humphrey Ward 80 lOo. " " •• «• " Cloth 60 11. For His Brother's Sake. By the Author of The Oi-lginal Mr. Jacobs . . 26 12. Geoffrey Trethiek. By O. M. Fenn 80 26 101. John Bariow's Ward 26 108. The Mystery of a Hansom Cab. ByF. W. Hume 26 104. Maria Monk 80 105. Clare's Fantas)i My Mary Cruger , 26 106. A Gallant Fight By Marion Harland 40 106o. " •• ♦• «• Cloth 60 108. Paul Ferroll— A Mystery 36 109. Michael Strogoff. By Jules Verne 26 110. The Gunmaker of Moscow. ByS. Cobb, Jr 26 HI. MissBretherton. By Mrs. Humphrey Ward 25 112. Star Crossed. By a Celebrated Actress 80 113. The Silent Witness. By Mrs. J. H. Walworth 25 114. The Admirable Lady Biddy Fane. By Frank Barrett 35 115. No. 19 State Sfa-eeL By David Graham Adee 35 116. John Ward, Preacher. By Margaret Deland 36 117. World of Cant. Companion to Bobert Elsmere SO 118. Buffalo Bill. By Ned Buntline 26 119. Jonathan and His Continent By Max O'Rell 50 119c. •• " " «• •« Cloth 75 121. Guilderoy. By Ouida 35 122. *' Le Docteur Rameau/' or a Broken Life. By G:o- gea Ohnet 80 123. The Story of An African Farm. By Ralph Iron 25 124. " Lady Car," The Sequel of a Life. By Mrs. Oliphant 25 125. '^Sh-angcr than Fiction.'' By Kenneth Lee 25 126. M Latin-Quarier Courtship. By Sidney Lnska ^25 197. Heaven and HeU. By £. Swedenborg 26 96 95 h •dition 00 96 86 96 96 96 ■ • • • • • « .vO 95 80 . . Cloth 60 Jacobs . . 96 80 96 96 96 80 26 40 . Cloth 60 96 96 96 96 80 96 96 96 26 80 96 60 Cloth 76 95 80 26 96 25 <*25 26 fti'ycc*t Home f^crien—CoiUinusd, 128. Burkett't Lock. By M. G. McClelland \ "80 129. The Silence of Dc an Maitiand. By Maxwell Grey 26 130. The Painter of Parma. By H. Cobb, Jr 80 131. Qrandiion Mather. By Sidney Luska 80 132. Sappho. Illustrated Edition. By A. Daudet 80 138. The Two Chiefs of Dunboy. By James A. Froude 60 184. Karmel, The Seoul By B. Cobb, author of "Gunmaker of Moscow". . 80 186. The Man Outside. By C. M . Boutello 80 186. Dolly. A Love Story. By F. H. Burnett 96 187. We Two. ByEdnaLysll 96 188. Looking Backward. By Edward Bellamy 86 189. StormlighL By F. E. Muddock 9^ 140. Helen's Babies. By Habberton 96 141. Fair Barbarian. By F. H. Burnett 26 142. Lindsay's Luck. " 26 148. Booties' Baby. ByJ.S. Winter 96 144. Dunraven Ranch. By Captain C. King 96 146. Cousin Pons. By Honore Balzac , 80 146. Guenn. By Blanche Willis Howard 36 147. Infellce. By A. J. Evans Wilson 80 148. Beulah. " •* 80 149. Chatauqua Qirls at Home. By Pansy ' 80 160. Links in Rebecca's Life. " 80 151. Julia Ried. •• 80 152. Ester Ried Yet Speaking. *' 80 153. Ester Ried. " \. 80 154. Three People. " 80 155. Four Girls at Chatauqua. " 30 156. Ruth Erskine's Crosses. " ... SO 157. An Endless Chain. " 30 158. Naomi. By Mrs. Webb 80 159. Daugller of Fi.'e. By Mrs. A. E. Barr 86 160. Bow of Orange Ribbon. •* 36 161. Struck Down. By Hawley Smart 26 162. That Lass O' Lowries. By F. H. Burnett 80 163. Paul Jones. By Alexander Dumas 96 164. For England's Sake. By Robert Cromie 96 165. Kathleen. By F. H. Burnett 26 166. Orion, The Gold Beater. By S. Cobb 80 167. Ben Hur. By Lew Wallace 30 168. Carliit's Manual of Freemasonry. Cloth cover 91 00 fl ; I Bryce^s Itonie (HerlMi — Coniimusd, The Ttxt Bo0k of Frtemasonry. Ololh Orar. 1 Tl 170. HMtn't Amerieu Arehtteetnra ; fr, Efiry Mm hb ««■ BolMtr. Ooa- IftLdng 90 pages of mod«n plana, >iai 11x14 inoliM. Pap« ooT«r. k Oi tTOa •* '* ** ^Ololh SM 171. Tkt Dla«on« Bottoa. By Barelay Norfh M 171. Tbt SlMdow if Jokn WaRaoii By L. darkna « M 178. Froa Dlllertirt Slandpoial^ By Paaay M 174. Mri. Solomon Saiitti LtoUii ta. By Pavy M 17ft. Ckpfelii't Christmas. By Paaay M 17ft. IHe LasI of Tha Vu Slacks. By Bdward B. Yaa Zila M 177. Tht Fair GoA ByLawWallaoa M 179. 8L Elaw. By Angoita J. EtaiM Wilaon N 179. A Phllosophar la Low an! h UaMrak By aafhor of Napoloon Baoiih 11 180. Donovaa. ByEdnaLyall 1ft 18L Tht Pleasms if LBt. By Sir Joha Dobbook Ift 111. ManriMM. By HarrioM Watooa ift 188. Woa ky Walflnf. By Bdaa LyaU 1ft 184. la fti BMm Bmik •• • II 18f . VashIL By AaguBta J. E. Wilson M 186. Tho Peopi* I've Smiled Wnii. By Marshall P. Wilder M 187. A Hardy Norseman. By Edna LyaU 16 188. Tho Wlastir of Bailantrae. By B. L. Stevenson it 189. Natural Law In tho Spiritual World. By Prof. H. Drammond 1ft 190. Macarla. By A. J. E. Wilson 80 191. A Winning Wayward Woman. By Flora Adams Darling, A.M 26 192. An Honest Hypocrite. By E. S. Tomplcins SO 198. Inez. By Au((nsta J. Evans Wilson 80 194. 196 19ft: ....^.: 197 198 - 199 200 201 201. • 208...'. 204 I 206 ' 10ft. •••« •••••••••••••••••••••••• c««a •••••••••••••••••••••• •••••••••• .; Mf« •••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• °^ >«h Cofir. 1 T« tor. Ooa- p« ooTor. i M SM to M M M 10 00 00 00 NaBmiih II M II 10 II II 80 M 16 M 01 80 80 80 •••••••• •••••••• •••••••• •••••••• «4 ** gmaii paokrt ••••• 10 TORONTO GUIDE, taanf mwn, with Map, FhologrftplM mmI niutrationa... M TIm Hooaabold Dootar, DiaaMH, th«ir Bjmpkaaa and Tn»tment, with DlutrmlioM. BjOMtftBlftok Goth bindmg 8i Tht Bnqvinr*! OmeUiftF^Mly B«f«nMt Book •■ H«allh, BdoMtion •ad HoBM MMiagemint, KUutekM Cloth binding 88 OliMt't BaeipM 8thedition 60 BryM'i Pooktl BMdy iMkootr, elolh 16 Bwudda Oook Book. 06 CWnrtaffOold'i Art »7'a LoMtar Mid Log Book II OhMrtHidd'i Baki of BtiqvoMo, eompUlo 10 Now Sdoottono f or Awtognph AlbuBg 10 Bflritaior'o Lwnbor ud Log Book II Tho Lttw'i Gnido 10 How Bono Ibdo Cook Book 10 HMidBookif Ofoqool 10 ■ngtfih Diolioiiory, oomploto, woadov of fho ofi ia ohoop books I Polo OB Whiaft. oomploto M TorantomosferotodCWdo *... II lfiukokoniiwtr»tod,wllhgirido,OltlowiUidlm»po M Oonodo nioalratod i^ramAtlantio toPMifle,witk 01 Tiowo, mop Md okotoh b]r«.]f.AitMh nMiObookoltkokiBdov«vpMd«oadiBOon»d»..0100 f » PnomlatioM odiMoa, Tory Im 1 00 oditiM • 00 ■oowifOMM liMl •MBMho. MMk Unm, In m z^ iiini liii I •S^SP^^ !■ Elect? o-CuPatiVe Institution ESTABLISHED 1874, 4 Queen Street ZSastp TORONTO, ONT, ) A. NORMAN'S ELECTRO-CURATIVE APPLIANCES haTe stood the test of time, and are the best in the world for the BSLIEF AND CTTRB OF Rheumaiic and Nervous Diseases, Indigestion, Liver GomplainU Nervous Debility^ and Loss of \ Vital Power from Whatever Cause. There are many Imitations, but none are equal to these Appliances. CONSULTATION AND CATALOGUE FREE. REFERENCES. Wm. KKRBTEM4M, Jb, Ebq. Robkbt G. Dalton, Esq. N. G. Bigblow, Es*. Mbbbrb. Mason & Ribck. J. Grant Macdonald, Esq. Donald C. Ridout, E«4. H. C- Div»i, Esq. Rbv. J. Hudson Taylor, Hom. Jvi>«a Maci)«o«ai*. AMP MAMT vtnvm. i f titution lANCES hare world for the fhaiever Cause. re equal to FREE. r. BioBLow, Esq. UiD C. KiDOUT, B«Q« JVIMB MaOI>«V«ALI