TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 BY 
 MRS. HUBERT BARCLAY 
 
 Nefo Iforfe 
 
 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 1911 
 
 All rights reserved
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1911, 
 BT THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. 
 
 Set up and electrotyped. Published February, 1911. Reprinted 
 March, 1911. 
 
 Nortoooli 
 
 J. 8. Gushing Co. Berwick <fe Smith Co. 
 Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.
 
 Jfatbec 
 
 21S4S10
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTEX PAGK 
 
 L NIGHT THOUGHTS 1 
 
 II. ENTER THE BRIDEGROOM 12 
 
 III. A TURN IN THE ROAD 23 
 
 IV. 'TREVOR LORDSHIP' ....... 35 
 
 V. LAVENDER 46 
 
 VI. AN INTERVIEW 58 
 
 VII. Two GIRLS AND A DOG 70 
 
 VIII. FRESH FIELDS AND PASTURES NEW .... 80 
 
 IX. A CONVERSATION AND A MEETING .... 98 
 
 X. NEW INTERESTS 117 
 
 XI. A KNOCKING AT THE DOOR 131 
 
 XII. A NEW POINT OF VIEW 144 
 
 XIII. THE SPIRIT OF THE SPRING 155 
 
 XIV. WORDS AND THEIR MEANING 168 
 
 XV. LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM 182 
 
 XVI. A BOLT FROM THE BLUE 194 
 
 XVII. THE MISSING WORD 213 
 
 XVIII. THE ROSE FADES 229 
 
 XIX. MINNIE COMES AND GOES ...... 236 
 
 XX. DARK DAYS 249 
 
 XXI. A VISIT TO LONDON 261 
 
 XXII. ELEANOR INTERVENES 278 
 
 XXIII. HOME AGAIN 287 
 
 XXIV. LAVENDER'S BABIES 298 
 
 XXV. AN ACCIDENT AND A STORM 310 
 
 XXVI. EUREKA! 329 
 
 vii
 
 viii CONTENTS 
 
 XXVII. AN OLD STORY ........ 348 
 
 XXVIII. AFTER THE WEDDING ...... 358 
 
 XXIX. PLAIN SPEAKING ....... 369 
 
 XXX. AT LAST , 379
 
 TREVOR LORDSHIP
 
 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 NIGHT THOUGHTS 
 "H est plus aise d'estre sage pour les autres, que de 1'estre pour 
 
 LA EOCHEFOUCAULD. 
 
 IT was a beautiful night in midsummer. The 
 scent of the night-stock stole in through the open 
 window, an incense to the worship of Nature in her 
 most soothing mood. Now and again, some slight 
 sound arose which seemed to emphasize rather than 
 disturb the silence, or a faint breath, too slight to be 
 termed a breeze, would shake the leaves in a dim 
 arpeggio of sound, like low music in the distance. 
 
 It seemed as if the stillness itself was audible, as 
 if, under the mantle of quiet and peace, there was a 
 faint murmur, more a sense than an actuality, as of 
 the forces of Nature at work, rearranging, reproduc- 
 ing, marshalling her forces to meet the morning ; a 
 sense of that never ending re-creation, of which we 
 are ever sensible at the dawn of a new day. It is 
 only when we are very young that we imagine that
 
 2 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 the earth sleeps as well as we ; later on, we realize 
 that the night is for Dame Nature her hour of work, 
 of peace, yes, but peace which gives opportunity 
 to prepare anew her daily transformation scene, and 
 to stage her tableaux afresh. 
 
 A few clouds were drifting over the face of the 
 moon, and one or two heavy drops fell, as if the 
 skies wept that Earth's time of quiet was so short ; 
 but the woman who was seated before the open win- 
 dow did not move. She was leaning forward, her 
 hands lightly clasped on a small table in front of her, 
 her eyes gazing into the night. It was evident that 
 she saw nothing, and that her thoughts were far 
 away. 
 
 Under her hands lay a mass of letters, a few pieces 
 of faded ribbon with which they had been tied, and, 
 like a blot upon the white table-cloth, a little dry, flat 
 mass of brown, which exhaled a faint scent of violets. 
 
 Eleanor Russell was a tall woman, built on rather 
 massive lines. She was dressed in deep mourning, 
 and this, even in the dim light of two candles, accen- 
 tuated the pallor of her face, and seemed to take all 
 the tone out of her hair, leaving it ashen and colour- 
 less. She looked worn and tired ; but, had any criti- 
 cal observer been present, they would have been 
 struck by the steadfast quiet of her eyes, which were 
 really beautiful, although just now dimmed with ex- 
 haustion resulting from a long strain. Their expres-
 
 NIGHT THOUGHTS 3 
 
 sion suggested a calm strength at variance with the 
 fatigue of her appearance, an almost startling dis- 
 tinction between the mental and physical conditions, 
 denoting either a spirit so controlled as to be beyond 
 the reach of bodily influence, or, to use Dr. Johnson's 
 expression, " a stark insensibility." 
 
 But to accuse Eleanor Russell of insensibility in 
 this sense would be far from just, and to apply the 
 former hypothesis, a little more than her due; her 
 state of mind was a compound of both. 
 
 Life had not, so far, treated her with much kind- 
 ness; her circumstances had been such as necessi- 
 tated the relegating of all personal matters into the 
 background, and the entire subjection of all personal 
 emotion, even in thought. Her youth had passed, 
 almost unheeded in its going, in the daily round, the 
 common task, of attendance upon a dearly loved but 
 fretful invalid mother, who must be sheltered at all 
 costs ; and the bearing with, and making the best of, 
 the galling, and sometimes degrading, actions and de- 
 mands of a father who had in later life retained all 
 the follies natural to, and not always becoming in, a 
 young man. She had, from being a kind of buffer 
 or buttress to those with whom she lived, ceased to 
 consider life from her own standpoint, or in fact to 
 consider herself, or her own wishes at all. When a 
 certain course of action appeared to her clear judg- 
 ment advisable for those who depended on her, that
 
 4 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 course was pursued as a natural and inevitable thing, 
 and gradually and imperceptibly she had ceased to 
 live her own life, it had become merged in that of 
 others. 
 
 Her natural unselfishness had, in this way, in- 
 creased, until it hovered on the causeway which 
 divides a virtue from a vice, and from having been 
 obliged for so long to disregard her own wishes, she 
 had almost ceased to possess any. 
 
 Much the same condition may be observed in the 
 vegetable world : when a young tree supports a growth 
 of ivy, it ceases in the end to have any life in itself, 
 and becomes, to all intents and purposes, an ivy tree. 
 
 This, however, it must be allowed, was only in its 
 broader sense, and in the larger issues of life. With 
 regard to the trifling details of every day, she was 
 decided, having a clear view of right and wrong, and 
 a clear judgment as to what was wise or unwise. 
 
 But at the moment of which I write, Eleanor 
 Russell had begun to realize, albeit vaguely at first, 
 that life was developing the personal side, which had 
 been practically, for her, non-existent for so many 
 years, and it had become necessary that she should 
 think for herself. 
 
 Presently she moved a little and began turning 
 over the papers which lay before her, until she found 
 the one she sought. It was a letter, old and faded, 
 dated fifteen years before.
 
 NIGHT THOUGHTS 5 
 
 MY VERT DEAR : Before the boat goes, I must just write a 
 few lines to you. It is so hard to part from you, I love you so. 
 But we must not lose hope, Sweet Nell, it cannot, it shall not 
 be for long. When I have made enough money I shall come 
 home at once, and we will be married. Meanwhile, my dear 
 one, in spite of all, we will love each other, and be true 
 always true. How I love you ! 
 
 HAL. 
 
 She read it through, very much in the way one 
 would read a page of an old familiar book, the words 
 that had once expressed so much had been robbed of 
 their meaning by the years that had passed since they 
 were penned. Her brief sun-time, and the briefer 
 period which had held her love, had been left so very 
 far behind, that it seemed to her almost impossible 
 that it had really been herself, the Eleanor Russell of 
 to-day, who had been " Sweet Nell " to her young 
 lover. 
 
 Surely it must have been some one else, some friend 
 perhaps of her girlhood, some other being she had 
 known intimately in days very long ago. A tall and 
 lovely girl who had plighted her troth, in response to 
 the protestations of eager love, which seemed now 
 but a dim recollection. 
 
 Eleanor raised the bunch of faded violets from the 
 table. They were very dry and dusty, and she had 
 on more than one occasion considered the advisability 
 of throwing them away ; but she had refrained from 
 doing so, not on account of the sentiment they now
 
 6 TKEVOR LOKDSHIP 
 
 held for her, but as one might cherish a possession 
 belonging to some dead relative, whom one had never 
 known personally, but of whom one liked to be 
 reminded. She tried to recall the occasion on which 
 she had received them, but her memory went no fur- 
 ther than that they were connected with the day on 
 which he went away. She laid them down, and 
 picked up another letter at random. It was dated 
 ten years later than the first, and began, " My dear 
 Eleanor," and was signed simply, " Yours, H." It 
 was such a letter as a man might write to a sister or 
 a man friend. It attributed previous months of 
 silence to the fact that the writer had been up country 
 where posts were uncertain. He was glad to hear 
 that her mother was pretty well, and hoped that she 
 was the same. With the exception of these two sen- 
 tences, the letter was entirely impersonal, though well 
 written, and extremely interesting. Descriptions of 
 scenery, native habits, flowers, etc., followed one an- 
 other in easy, well-chosen language ; the story of a 
 local tragedy was told in a few vigorous lines from 
 the pen of a ready writer. The whole epistle was, in 
 short, quite friendly, and quite cool, and was an ex- 
 cellent example of the correspondence which had 
 passed between them during the last seven or eight 
 years ; letters which Eleanor had been pleased to re- 
 ceive, and had found easy to answer. 
 
 She folded it again after reading it through, and
 
 NIGHT THOUGHTS 7 
 
 proceeded to gather the scattered papers into a 
 bundle, tying them together with the faded ribbon 
 strangely emblematic of the tie which bound her and 
 the writer together. When this was done, it left only 
 two papers on the table, a letter and a telegram. She 
 picked up the first, and read it carefully through, 
 while a little pucker showed itself just between her 
 eyes. It was dated only three months previously, 
 and read as follows : 
 
 MY DEAR ELEANOR : No doubt before this letter reaches 
 you, you will have seen in the papers the announcement of the 
 death of my uncle, Henry Trevor, and will have realized the 
 difference this sad event makes in our future prospects. His 
 only son having been drowned last year, I am his heir. His 
 lawyers inform me that, though not a rich man, he was pos- 
 sessed of a very comfortable income, and this, together with 
 his property, ' Trevor Lordship,' he has left to me, uncondi- 
 tionally. 
 
 Although we did not expect that the end of our long period 
 of waiting would come in this way, still I feel that you will 
 agree with me that it has come. I am therefore returning to 
 England as soon as possible. I would ask you to arrange a 
 very early date for our marriage, and to let me know your 
 decision by telegram. 
 
 I feel sure that, owing to your being in mourning for your 
 dear mother, you will wish it to be as quiet as possible; 
 this I also should prefer. Having lived so long alone, any- 
 thing in the nature of a function would be most disagreeable to 
 me. I propose that we should go to ( Trevor Lordship ' directly 
 after the wedding, as there will be, of course, a good many 
 arrangements to make. I trust you will have no objection to 
 this, but should you prefer any other course, I beg you will
 
 8 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 have no hesitation in telling* me. I shall not start until I have 
 heard from you, and shall anxiously await your telegram. 
 
 Yours ever, 
 
 H. TREVOR. 
 
 It will readily be admitted that the recipient of 
 this letter had no other course open to her than to 
 think of herself. There was no doubt it was a very 
 personal matter indeed. 
 
 Eleanor rose from her chair, and walked over to 
 the mantelpiece, and took in her hand a photograph 
 which stood there. With this she returned to the 
 table, and seated herself as before. Moving the 
 candles to obtain a better light, she looked at it long 
 and earnestly. It represented a young man with a 
 high forehead and strong, clear-cut features; so far 
 as could be judged from the portrait, he was very tall 
 and slim, and probably athletic. Altogether he was 
 pleasant to look at. 
 
 She laid it down after a while, and took up the 
 telegram. The systematic way she had read through 
 each paper was characteristic of her; it seemed as if 
 she were weighing the matter in a balance, and was 
 anxious to be quite fair. 
 
 Your father's telegram received. Thank you for arranging 
 July 28th. Shall be with you Wednesday 27th, afternoon. 
 
 TREVOR. 
 
 Her eyes turned almost unconsciously to the daily 
 calendar which hung beside her bed. It displayed
 
 NIGHT THOUGHTS 9 
 
 the date Tuesday, July 26th, and underneath the text, 
 " Tribulation worketh patience, and patience experi- 
 ence, and experience hope." Then again she re- 
 sumed her former position, with her hands clasped in 
 front of her, and her eyes gazing out into the night. 
 
 When Henry Trevor's last letter had arrived, she 
 had, in pursuance of her usual custom, handed it to 
 her father. For many years past, her parents had 
 always read her letters; they afforded an agreeable 
 change as a topic of conversation, and any secrecy on 
 her part would have seemed obvious and unusual. 
 She had been utterly unprepared for the excitement 
 into which it had thrown him, and had been swept 
 away on the wave of it. Feeling, as she did, worn 
 out, and almost exhausted with the long strain of 
 nursing her mother, she had been unable to argue 
 with him. He had insisted that the only course open 
 to her was to fix a date at once ; indeed, he had 
 done so finally himself. She had said in protest that 
 she hardly liked to arrange matters so quickly, to 
 which he had replied angrily : 
 
 " You are surely not thinking of refusing to marry 
 him?" 
 
 " Oh, no ! " she had answered, rather shocked at 
 the idea. " Only I should have liked a little more 
 time to think it over." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " her father had replied ; and added, 
 rather coarsely it must be admitted, " You have had
 
 10 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 fifteen years to think it over already ! " Which was 
 true. 
 
 After that she had said no more, and Mr. Russell 
 had made all arrangements in huge delight. He had 
 telegraphed his plans to Henry Trevor, and was 
 highly satisfied with the whole affair. The truth 
 was that, owing to his wife's illness and death, he 
 had been at home for nearly a year, and a prolonged 
 period of domesticity did not suit him. It was, as 
 he put it, "plaguey dull." But if Eleanor had a 
 husband, his responsibilities would cease, the little 
 house could be shut up, and he would be free to ad- 
 journ to those circles where a certain gaiety is not 
 considered a demerit, and the tune of life is set in a 
 lighter key. To be honest, village life bored him 
 almost to tears, and the prospect of being free from 
 all family ties was most cheering. 
 
 And still Eleanor sat on immovable, wrapped in 
 thought. The main desire of which she was con- 
 scious, now that she tried to think what she really 
 did want was for peace. Peace from the daily, 
 hourly fretting worries of the past year. Her mother 
 was dead, and she missed her, much in the way, 
 although she did not realize it, that a captive might 
 miss the chains which have dragged heavily on him 
 for a long time. She was feeling very tired, and 
 quite unable to cope with the juvenility and exal- 
 tation of her father's humour. She longed for quiet,
 
 NIGHT THOUGHTS 11 
 
 for a period of leisure in which she might readjust 
 the balance of her life, which seemed to be seriously 
 disturbed. But she knew that happy time could not 
 be looked for yet, and she passed her hand over her 
 eyes, and buckled on her armour again with a sigh. 
 
 He by this she meant her lover had been so 
 constant and so true, her whole life could not be suf- 
 ficient to reward him ; she would do her best to make 
 him happy. 
 
 She rose from her seat, and began to prepare for 
 bed. Her eyes fell again upon the calendar. " Tribu- 
 lation worketh patience." "Yes," she thought whim- 
 sically, " she had learnt that. Patience she undoubt- 
 edly possessed, also, perhaps, the next clause had been 
 passed as a standard in the curriculum ; experience of 
 a certain kind she had gained. But, 6 Experience work- 
 eth hope,' that was something strange," she thought. 
 " In her life the order had been different. Hope 
 had started first, to be overcome by the tribulation, 
 which had in turn worked patience, and the expe- 
 rience of later life did not at present leave much 
 ground for hope ! "
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 ENTER THE BRIDEGROOM 
 
 "And Time that gave, doth now his gift confound." 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 " Where are the songs of Spring ? Ay, -where are they ? " 
 
 KEATS. 
 
 THE next morning Eleanor was picking roses in 
 her little garden when she heard a voice behind her, 
 and with an exclamation of pleasure she turned to 
 greet a visitor. 
 
 A little lady was standing at the gate, a curious 
 figure, and one that might easily have provoked ridi- 
 cule in a stranger. She was very short, and very 
 round ; she wore on her head an old-fashioned mush- 
 room hat, tied under the chin with wide strings, 
 making a frame in which her cheery face glowed 
 like a rosy apple. Despite her figure, or rather the 
 absence of it, her movements were very quick and 
 very decided, and her general appearance in walking 
 reminded one of a little ball lolling along. Her apparel 
 was always somewhat eccentric: a full skirt short 
 enough to display her thick, serviceable boots, a loose 
 jacket which had once been black, but which time 
 and hard wear had changed to a dingy green ; and a 
 
 12
 
 ENTER THE BRIDEGROOM 13 
 
 pair of rough gloves of the kind generally associated 
 with "hedgers and ditchers." This was her every- 
 day costume, winter and summer, but on Sundays 
 it was modified ; her skirt was longer, the boots thin- 
 ner, the gloves neater, but the style was always the 
 same. It was a standing joke with the young people 
 that nobody had ever seen Miss Price without her 
 mushroom hat. She ate in it, lived in it, and it was 
 suspected slept in it, although there was no evidence 
 to prove this ! She never dined out, early hours 
 were the fashion in the village, and when any one 
 called on her she was invariably in her garden, and 
 her hat ! 
 
 But anything ridiculous suggested by her appear- 
 ance was entirely forgotten after a few moments' 
 conversation, for her personality was strong and 
 delightful ; humorous, yes ! causing merriment in- 
 tentionally, distinctly caustic at times, but ridicu- 
 lous never. 
 
 "Good-morning, my dear Eleanor," she said, 
 briskly ; " good-morning ! Tut, tut, why are your 
 Marie van Houttes always better than mine, thereby 
 causing me to break the Tenth Commandment, and 
 covet my neighbour's goods ? Now do let me sit 
 down. I don't generally walk so early in the morn- 
 ing, and the sun is powerful. You are not busy, I 
 hope?" 
 
 " No," said Eleanor. " I have plenty of time, and
 
 14 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 I am delighted to see you. Come and sit in the 
 shade under the walnut-tree." 
 
 They walked across the lawn, and seated them- 
 selves, and at once Miss Price began. 
 
 " Well, now ! tell me all about it. Is everything 
 settled for to-morrow? And did you do as I told 
 you about your dress ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Eleanor, smiling. " I am going to 
 wear white. It looks quite nice, I think; just a 
 plain coat and skirt, with a lace blouse under it. I 
 don't think you will find fault with it." 
 
 " Pouf ! " said the lady, scornfully. " Henry 
 Trevor has to thank me that his wife will not ap- 
 pear in church to-morrow in a black cotton frock ! 
 And what about the other things ? " 
 
 "I have not got very much," Eleanor answered. 
 " There has not been much time, and I did not feel 
 quite sure what I should want ; so I thought I would 
 wait and buy more later. Mother left me plenty of 
 money for everything." 
 
 " You're quite right. Besides, things made in the 
 village here look all right to us, but when we have 
 the opportunity of comparing them elsewhere, they 
 may be far from right. And now, my dear child, I 
 am, as you know, a tiresome old woman ; I always 
 have been " (which was quite untrue) ; " and I am 
 going to give you a little advice. You won't like it, 
 but you will have to put up with it ! It is this
 
 ENTER THE BRIDEGROOM 15 
 
 For goodness' sake, cease to be a doormat, and don't 
 lie down for people to wipe their boots on you ! 
 Assert yourself, and enjoy yourself, and don't con- 
 sider other people so much. If you are going to 
 slave for your husband, in the way you have slaved 
 for your parents, Heaven help him ! Such a course 
 of treatment would ruin the Archangel Gabriel him- 
 self! 
 
 "And another thing. You have lived for so many 
 years in this little place I am not saying anything 
 against it I love it, and so do you, but affection 
 does not blind me to the fact that it is groovy. We 
 are like the postman's pony doing the same round 
 every day. You will probably feel rather like a fish 
 out of water for a time, and see many things that 
 surprise you, but hold your own, my dear, hold your 
 own. Take your position, whatever it may be, and 
 consider your appearance also, and your clothes. 
 Yes ! you may smile, my dear, and look at my hat 
 and my boots, but I'm right. I don't say you have 
 not always looked very nice ; you have ; but you are 
 going where things may be different, and every man 
 likes to see his wife looking smart. You are young, 
 and good looking ; make the most of yourself." 
 
 " Dear Miss Price," murmured Eleanor, " I am too 
 old to think of my looks." 
 
 " Stuff and nonsense ! " retorted the lady. " Not 
 a bit of it ! What are you ? Thirty-three ? Well,
 
 16 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 I was thirty-three, five and twenty years ago, and I'm 
 not old yet ! Now, I won't bother you any more, 
 but store my words in your memory. They may be 
 useful by and by. Where are you going for your 
 honeymoon ? " 
 
 " We are not going to have a honeymoon ; we are 
 going straight to ' Trevor Lordship.' Henry wished 
 it, as there was a good deal to see to." 
 
 Miss Price nodded, and then she looked at the 
 younger woman with shrewd, kindly eyes, noting the 
 tired face, the steady, gentle expression. Certainly 
 Eleanor did not look like a bride eagerly awaiting the 
 arrival of a long-expected and desired bridegroom. 
 Was everything indeed as it should be ? she wondered. 
 Then she laid her hand on hers, and said quietly : 
 
 " Eleanor, why don't you put off your marriage ? 
 Are you quite sure you care for him ? " 
 
 Eleanor started in surprise. 
 
 " Why, Miss Price," she said f alteringly, " of 
 course you know we have cared we have been 
 engaged for fifteen years ! " 
 
 Before her companion could reply, Mr. Russell 
 stepped out of the garden door, calling for his 
 daughter. 
 
 " Eleanor ! Eleanor ! Where are you ? " 
 
 " I must go," she said hurriedly. " I will come 
 back in a moment." 
 
 " No," said Miss Price, " I am going now. I shall
 
 ENTER THE BRIDEGROOM 17 
 
 see you in church to-morrow. Good-bye, my dear. 
 God bless you. Don't come with me ; I'll open the 
 gate." 
 
 Eleanor walked towards her father. 
 
 " Here I am," she said ; " do you want anything ? " 
 
 " It is most tiresome ! These maids of yours 
 are such fools. I bought a bottle of varnish, sent 
 to London for it on purpose, and now they don't 
 know where it is, and my boots won't be ready for 
 to-morrow ! " 
 
 "I can find it," she answered. 
 
 " But I tell you they must be varnished to-day, or 
 they won't be dry, and I'm sure I don't know if 
 Susan can do them properly, and in spite of all I 
 said, that laundress will not glaze my collars." 
 
 11 1 am sorry about the collars," said Eleanor, 
 smiling ; " but do not worry about the boots. I will 
 do them myself, and I assure you that they will be 
 quite ready for to-morrow." 
 
 " What about that Niphetos rosebud ? I hope it 
 will not be too far out. I want it particularly for 
 my buttonhole." Mr. Russell might have been the 
 bridegroom by his concern respecting the details of 
 his toilet ! "I think I'll go and put a piece of paper 
 round it to prevent it opening too wide." 
 
 Eleanor fetched his boots, and carried them to her 
 storeroom where the precious bottle of varnish was 
 waiting for them. The little house was beginning 
 c.
 
 18 TEEVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 to look strange, for she had packed away all her 
 personal possessions, and the cases were standing in 
 the corner of the hall. She knew very well that 
 her father's one idea was to get out of the place 
 as quickly as possible ; the rest of the furniture was 
 to be stored, and the house let. 
 
 " I must not forget to arrange for those cases 
 going to ' Trevor Lordship,' ' she thought. She 
 looked round her little storeroom with regret. It 
 had so many associations ! For so many years it 
 had been an intimate part of her daily life; the 
 time spent in it represented the few quiet moments 
 which she had been able to call her own. She knew 
 every jar ! the place for everything ! On one side 
 the lavender and herbs, the dried rose leaves ; and 
 on the other, the household stores, jams and pre- 
 serves. The shelves were nearly empty now; she 
 had given everything away to a few friends and the 
 villagers, and she felt as if a tie had snapped under 
 her hand. 
 
 She felt a little nervous at the idea of the long 
 journey the next day ; her head was aching, and 
 she was a very inexperienced traveller. She hoped 
 Henry would not think her very dull and stupid ; it 
 was certainly unfortunate that he should be return- 
 ing just when she was not quite her usual self. 
 
 She completed her task with the thoroughness 
 habitual to her, neatly and expeditiously. One great
 
 ENTER THE BRIDEGROOM 19 
 
 beauty about Eleanor was her hands ; they were not 
 small, but they were beautifully shaped, white and 
 soft, and had in everything a touch firm and capable. 
 The kind of hands that invest even the doing up of 
 a parcel with a certain nobility. 
 
 Then she started upstairs to complete her packing, 
 but heard her father calling " Eleanor ! Eleanor ! " 
 in his usual testy tone. 
 
 " I am coming," she called back. 
 
 He always wanted something ; if it was not boots 
 or collars, it was something of similar importance. 
 Just now it was a spot on his overcoat ! 
 
 And so the day passed, as other days had passed 
 before, alternately in running errands and doing little 
 jobs for her father, and trying to finish the necessary 
 arrangements before leaving her little home. 
 
 At about four o'clock that afternoon, the question 
 of the rosebud became of importance again. There 
 was no doubt it would be full blown on the morrow. 
 What was to be done ? 
 
 " Let us go and find another," suggested Eleanor. 
 " I think we can find one just as good in the kitchen 
 garden." 
 
 " It must be white," persisted Mr. Russell. " I am 
 going to wear a white tie." 
 
 They were deciding the knotty point, when the 
 maid arrived, and said that Sir Henry Trevor was 
 in the drawing-room.
 
 20 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 Mr. Russell became at once greatly excited. 
 
 " Come at once, Eleanor," he said. " "We must on 
 no account keep him waiting," and he bustled into 
 the house. 
 
 " Ah ! my dear Henry," he said blandly, " wel- 
 come back to the old country, after your long exile. 
 We are very pleased to see you." 
 
 Trevor shook hands with him, then turned to 
 Eleanor, who held out her hand. 
 
 There was an almost imperceptible pause, then he 
 stooped, and raised it to his lips with an old-fashioned 
 courtesy. Anything more sentimental was impossible 
 in the presence of Mr. Russell, who stood like a 
 benign master of the ceremonies, in a sort of " Bless 
 you, my children " attitude, which was as obvious as 
 it was irritating. 
 
 "Do sit down," he said, when this little ceremony 
 was over; and somewhat constrainedly the two sat 
 down, at either end of the big Chesterfield sofa. 
 
 " I trust you will be pleased with the arrangements 
 I have made," he continued pompously. " You will 
 of course understand that, owing to our recent be- 
 reavement," he glanced downwards with an air of 
 stage affliction as he spoke, " the wedding will be 
 very quiet and simple. It will take place at twelve 
 o'clock. That will allow time for a little light lunch- 
 eon here before you catch the two o'clock express." 
 
 While her father continued these details, which he
 
 ENTER THE BRIDEGROOM 21 
 
 felt displayed his organizing genius, Eleanor looked 
 at the man who had thus come into her life again. 
 
 Henry Trevor was at this time forty, but he 
 looked at least ten years older. He was very tall, 
 thin almost to emaciation, and stooped very much. 
 Eleanor had known that he had had some trouble 
 with his eyes a year or two before, but she had not 
 been prepared to see him wearing smoked spectacles. 
 It disconcerted her, for it effectually disguised any 
 trace that might have remained, in this middle-aged 
 man, of the lover of long ago. 
 
 He wore a heavy moustache, which, like his hair, 
 was turning a little grey. What with his moustache 
 hiding his mouth, and his spectacles hiding his eyes, 
 there seemed nothing left of him. to recognize, except 
 his voice, which was quiet, and very pleasant, and 
 sounded a note of memory. 
 
 She felt vaguely glad he did not look younger ; she 
 was conscious of feeling old herself, and had feared 
 the age might be all on her side. 
 
 "I am sorry to say that my mother will not be 
 well enough to come to-morrow," he was saying. 
 " It was her intention to have been present, and my 
 sister also, but she is unequal to any exertion in this 
 heat, and hopes you will pardon her. My sister is 
 only staying with her for a time, while her husband 
 is abroad, and hardly likes to leave her." 
 
 Eleanor made some polite reply. She had never
 
 22 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 for one moment imagined that Mrs. Trevor would 
 come. She had persistently ignored the engagement 
 for fifteen years, and Eleanor had never seen her. 
 Henry Trevor did not think it necessary to say that 
 there had been a discussion between them that morn- 
 ing, a little heated on his mother's side, in which she 
 had bitterly upbraided him for his folly in marrying 
 a person without any money, and whom nobody 
 knew. He had been somewhat annoyed at his future 
 wife being termed "a person." He felt it was hardly 
 suitable, but he particularly disliked a scene of any 
 kind, so he had merely remarked calmly that it was 
 his intention to be married to Miss Eussell on the 
 following day, and that he should take his wife 
 straight to ' Trevor Lordship' after the wedding.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 A TURN IN THE ROAD 
 
 "... no time, however distant, but what you may reach and pass 
 
 it, 
 
 . . . no road, but it stretches and waits for you, 
 However long but it stretches and waits for you." 
 
 WALT WHITMAN. 
 
 MB. RUSSELL was, it would appear, the person to be 
 considered above all others, the next morning. His 
 boots were spotlessly shiny, which was a great con- 
 solation to him, and the white rosebud which adorned 
 his buttonhole was, in every respect, entirely satis- 
 factory. 
 
 He surveyed himself in the glass with some pride 
 when his toilet was completed, and with great regret 
 reflected that there would be no one worth mention- 
 ing to see the gorgeous effect of his tout ensemble. 
 However, it would not be many days before he found 
 himself in a more congenial neighbourhood, where 
 admiring eyes would surely linger on his dashing 
 appearance. He purposed what he called "a little 
 run upon the Continent," Dieppe to start with, and 
 later, perhaps, Homburg. In these places he had no 
 doubt he would be appreciated at his proper value. 
 
 Meanwhile, Eleanor and the two maids had been 
 
 23
 
 24 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 running here and there from an early hour, assisting 
 to achieve the splendid result. 
 
 " Lor ! " said Susan confidentially to Jane, " the 
 master he do look a dog ! " 
 
 To which Jane, who was elderly, and a trifle sour, 
 replied : 
 
 " Well, if he looks a dog, it's Miss Eleanor who's 
 been a-workin' like one ! " Which 'comment summed 
 up the truth admirably. 
 
 Eleanor had gone late to bed the night before, and 
 had risen early; she had run hither and thither in 
 response to his repeated demands, until at eleven 
 o'clock he sent her upstairs, with strict injunctions 
 not to keep him waiting. They would leave the 
 house at five minutes before twelve, and walk to 
 the church. 
 
 In the welcome solitude of her own room, she sat 
 down for a while to rest. She had been much struck 
 on the previous afternoon with the quietness of 
 Henry Trevor's demeanour, and it had pleased her. 
 There would, undoubtedly, be peace in their life, and 
 this was the one thing she really desired. After 
 to-day, when that long journey was over, a period of 
 quiet would begin. 
 
 He had spoken very kindly of their future life 
 together, had trusted that she would be happy ; and 
 she had replied that she hoped he would be the same, 
 all in a natural, quiet way which comforted her a
 
 A TURN IN THE EOAD 25 
 
 good deal. She hardly knew what she would have 
 done, had Henry been bustling like her father. 
 
 Presently she rose and began to dress. She put on 
 her wedding gown, and a large hat with white plumes, 
 which became her exceedingly well. She tidied her 
 room, and closed her last trunk ; then, finding she 
 had a few minutes to spare, stood before the dressing- 
 table, drawing on her gloves. As she did so, she 
 noticed her engagement ring. It was a thick band 
 of gold with one sapphire in it, and it had never been 
 off her finger since Henry Trevor had put it there 
 years before. She realized that it would be replaced 
 by another in a few moments, and with a little blush 
 she took it off and put it on her right hand. Then 
 some of her conversation with Miss Price returned to 
 her mind, and she looked at herself in the glass with 
 careful scrutiny. She certainly looked old and tired, 
 and her hair was drawn back too tightly. She tried 
 to better it, feeling rather ashamed of herself, it was 
 so long since she had considered her looks, but she 
 was disturbed by her father's voice, in the well-known 
 cry, " Eleanor ! Eleanor ! " and, hastily buttoning her 
 glove, she went downstairs. 
 
 In the hall Susan and Jane were waiting, and, 
 with many giggles on the part of the former, they 
 presented her with a bunch of white flowers. It was 
 rather stiff, and the paper frill round it was sug- 
 gestive of a ham, but Eleanor was touched by the
 
 26 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 little attention, and assured them she would carry it 
 to church. 
 
 After repeated instructions from Mr. Russell to the 
 servants that lunch was to be punctually at half-past 
 twelve, and that the champagne was on no account 
 to be opened before they came back, father and 
 daughter walked down the little garden path, across 
 to the quiet church. 
 
 A few villagers were waiting, and one or two old 
 friends, including Miss Price, were seated in the pews. 
 The hour of the ceremony had become known, in spite 
 of Mr. Russell's endeavours to the contrary, and they 
 were come to see her married, for she was a great 
 favourite with all. 
 
 Henry Trevor was standing waiting on the chancel 
 step. In the subdued light, he looked younger than 
 on the previous day. He was perfectly calm, and in 
 his blue serge suit, with a grey tie, and not even a 
 flower in his buttonhole, did not appear in the least 
 like a bridegroom. He was congratulating himself 
 on the general absence of bustle : the calm demeanour 
 of Eleanor, the quiet arrangements, and the simple 
 service in the little country church, were entirely to 
 his mind. Accustomed to solitude as he had been for 
 so many years, he had dreaded to find himself the 
 centre of a gaping crowd of guests, which he would 
 have detested cordially. 
 
 But though Eleanor was outwardly calm, her looks
 
 A TUEN IN THE EOAD 27 
 
 belied her, for she went through the service with a 
 feeling of unreality which disturbed her. It seemed 
 incredible that the long expected was really an ac- 
 complished fact. That she should one day marry 
 Henry Trevor she had long known, but that the 
 moment had actually arrived seemed impossible. It 
 was almost as if this was the climax to the love story 
 of that girl of the long ago, the " Sweet Nell " of the 
 first letter. It was so difficult to believe that the 
 Eleanor Russell of the last years was the same 
 woman. It was almost as if she were possessed of 
 a dual personality, as if presently " Sweet Nell " 
 would go away with her bridegroom, and Eleanor 
 Russell would return to the little house across the 
 road. As Henry Trevor placed the ring upon her 
 finger, the whole scene seemed to swim in a mist be- 
 fore her eyes, and she heard a voice she did not rec- 
 ognize as her own saying the responses. She thought 
 vaguely that it must be " Sweet Nell " speaking. 
 She took her husband's arm mechanically when he 
 offered it, and the little party moved into the vestry. 
 
 Mr. Russell now seemed to think that he had re- 
 mained in the background quite long enough, for he 
 came forward quickly, and, embracing his daughter 
 in his best " heavy father " manner, pompously con- 
 gratulated them both. 
 
 Miss Price shook hands with Sir Henry, and gave 
 her good wishes heartily.
 
 28 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 " But you have taken the joy out of my life, and 
 into your own," she said, in her quick, decided way. 
 
 Sir Henry bowed ; his tongue was out of practice 
 for repartee, it would seem, for he made no other 
 reply. 
 
 During the short walk to the house, and the lunch- 
 eon which followed, Eleanor was still conscious of the 
 unreality of the part she was playing, but she was 
 grateful to Sir Henry for engaging her father in con- 
 versation, and for the matter of fact way in which he 
 cut Mr. Russell short in his verbose farewells, and led 
 her to the carriage. She waved a good-bye to the 
 maids, and a few people who lingered at the gate, 
 and, side by side with the man who was her husband, 
 started on the journey they were to take together. 
 
 " I fear you are very tired," Sir Henry said. " It 
 is very hot to-day." 
 
 " Yes," she replied ; " but the air is delicious driv- 
 ing, and very refreshing." 
 
 " It is a long journey," he continued ; " we shall 
 not arrive until about nine o'clock; but I understand 
 we can dine in the train." 
 
 " Can you remember ' Trevor Lordship ' ? " she 
 asked. " What is the house like ? " 
 
 " As far as I can recall it, it is an old Elizabethan 
 house, approached by an avenue of lime-trees. I un- 
 derstand it contains some fine old furniture and china, 
 and, what interests me more, a very good library. The
 
 29 
 
 lawyers gave me the catalogue yesterday as I passed 
 through London, and there are apparently many 
 books which I have longed all my life to possess." 
 
 " You have not been able to obtain many of late 
 years ? " Eleanor enquired. 
 
 " More than you would think," Sir Henry replied 
 quickly. " My nearest neighbour was an old German 
 savant, who was ending his days in his daughter's 
 home. Her husband was farming, like the rest of us. 
 Professor Kohler his name was, and he had very con- 
 stant consignments of the newest books out from 
 Europe, and I had the run of them. I was referring 
 more to older books, and older editions, which I have 
 always wished to see. You are fond of books ? " he 
 added questioningly. 
 
 " Very," she answered ; " but I have had very little 
 time for reading in the past. I have always been 
 rather busy." 
 
 "Ah!" he said, "that has been the same in my 
 case, but I hope that in the future we shall be able 
 to make up for the past." 
 
 On arrival at the station, he asked her what papers 
 she would like for the journey, and she mentioned 
 one, more from a dislike to refusing than from any 
 desire to read. He provided himself with a pile of 
 literature, and helped her into the train, solicitous 
 of her comfort in a way to which she was quite 
 unaccustomed, and found very pleasant. Having
 
 30 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 ascertained that she wanted nothing more, he estab- 
 lished himself in the corner opposite her. 
 
 " Will you excuse my reading ?" he asked, with a 
 smile. " Talking in the train is not very pleasant, is 
 it ? And it is so very delightful to me to read the 
 news of the day before it is two months old." 
 
 " I would much rather not talk," she said; " and it 
 is very nice to do nothing." 
 
 She leaned back in her corner, and closed her eyes; 
 the rest was very grateful. Certainly if life with 
 Henry was going to continue on these lines, she 
 might hope for the peace for which she had longed, 
 and meanwhile, to do nothing was most enjoyable. 
 
 When dinner time came they moved into the res- 
 taurant car, and during the meal Sir Henry chatted 
 easily. 
 
 " There are one or two matters I should like to talk 
 over with you. I have no experience in the manage- 
 ment of a house, and I told the lawyers to ask my 
 uncle's servants to stay on until something was defi- 
 nitely arranged. In this regard, however, I am quite 
 at sea, and I fear I must ask you to undertake it, if 
 you will." 
 
 " Certainly," Eleanor said at once. " I have been 
 used to running a house, and can manage all that 
 perfectly, if you will tell me just what you like 
 done." 
 
 Her husband was obviously relieved.
 
 A TURN IN THE EOAD 31 
 
 " I am very grateful," he said. " That will be ex- 
 cellent. You must make what arrangements you like ; 
 I will leave everything in your hands. In the farm, 
 of course, I am more or less at home, but the garden 
 will be a strange country to me." 
 
 "I have always loved my garden," Eleanor said, 
 smiling. "Would you like me to manage that too?" 
 
 "Indeed I should," he answered promptly. "If 
 it will not be troubling you too much." 
 
 "Not in the least; I shall thoroughly enjoy it." 
 
 " There is another point," Sir Henry said, rather 
 hesitatingly. "I dislike mentioning it, but it is a 
 necessity. With regard to the disagreeable subject 
 of money, I have arranged for you to have a sig- 
 nature on my banking account, and I beg you will 
 draw exactly what you require. It will not be neces- 
 sary for you to stint yourself in any way. My in- 
 come will be a very comfortable one, and I am sure 
 you will be quite wise, and that I can safely leave 
 this matter in your hands. I will, if you wish it, go 
 more particularly into figures, later on." 
 
 " I think that would be a good thing," she said. 
 " I might spend too much. But I am anxious to save 
 you trouble," she added, "and I am quite accustomed 
 to managing." 
 
 "Ah!" he answered, "I fear you will find that I 
 much appreciate being saved trouble ! I trust you 
 will not hesitate to let me know at once, though, if
 
 32 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 there is any arrangement you dislike, or which you 
 would prefer altered." 
 
 Eleanor smiled. 
 
 " I am very easily satisfied," she said. 
 
 Her spirits were rising. If she had not felt so tired, 
 she would have quite enjoyed the journey. Henry 
 certainly was delightfully easy to get on with, and 
 again she hoped she might be able to make him 
 happy this time with more assurance. 
 
 On arriving at the nearest station to ' Trevor Lord- 
 ship,' they found a carriage waiting for them. It 
 was quite dark, and they could see nothing of the 
 country through which they drove, but after about 
 half an hour they reached the house. An elderly 
 butler met them, and showed them into a large room 
 surrounded with book-cases. 
 
 " This is the library, Sir Henry. Will her ladyship 
 take a little soup or wine ? Or would she wish Mrs. 
 Johns to show her upstairs ? " 
 
 Eleanor had not in the least realized her new title, 
 and started a little as the man spoke. Then she an- 
 swered. No, she required nothing. They had dined 
 in the train. She would like to sit still for a few 
 minutes, and then she would ring for the housekeeper 
 to take her upstairs. 
 
 She sat down in a low, old-fashioned armchair, 
 glad to be free from the shaking of the train and 
 carriage. Her husband was walking round looking
 
 A TUKN IK THE KOAD 33 
 
 at the books, uttering every now and then a comment 
 or an exclamation. He was evidently deeply inter- 
 ested. Presently she rose, and he walked back to 
 where she was standing. Then he said slowly and 
 rather shyly, 
 
 " I hope that you will be very happy here I 
 should like to welcome you Eleanor " 
 
 He stooped in the act to kiss her, but to his aston- 
 ishment she swayed for a moment, and then fell back 
 into the chair she had just quitted, and he saw to his 
 consternation that she had fainted. 
 
 When Eleanor came to her senses, she found an 
 elderly woman, presumably Mrs. Johns, bending over 
 her, and Sir Henry standing by, looking very much 
 concerned. She pulled herself together, and struggled 
 to her feet. 
 
 " I am so very sorry," she said. " I cannot think 
 why I did it. I have never fainted in my life before. 
 I suppose I am over-tired. I am so ashamed of giv- 
 ing so much trouble." 
 
 " Come upstairs with me, my lady," said the house- 
 keeper. " You'd best get to bed." 
 
 Eleanor felt rather dazed ; she held out her hand to 
 her husband. 
 
 " Good-night," she said. 
 
 There was a moment's pause. Sir Henry seemed a 
 little surprised. 
 
 " Good-night," he said. " I hope you will be much
 
 34 TKEVOR LOKDSHIP 
 
 better in the morning. I have no doubt you require 
 a good rest." 
 
 "Please do not think any more about me," she 
 answered. " I shall be quite well to-morrow." 
 
 Sir Henry closed the door after her. " I do trust 
 she is not delicate," he thought to himself, and with 
 that he returned to the engrossing survey of his new 
 library.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 'TREVOR LORDSHIP' 
 
 "To deny that man is, in a sense, the creature of circumstances, is 
 equal to the denial that two and two make four ; and to deny that man 
 cannot make circumstances, is equal to affirming that two and two make 
 five." J. JOHNSON. 
 
 IT would have been almost impossible to have 
 found a man less suited to the life of the backwoods 
 than Henry Trevor, and this fact must be borne in 
 mind by any who may wonder at the effect which 
 fifteen years of comparative solitude had had upon 
 his character and mind. 
 
 He had been a youth of barely twenty-five when 
 his father died, and the thread of his life, which had 
 hitherto run smoothly, took a sudden twist. They 
 had been devoted friends, and as long as Mr. Trevor 
 lived, Henry had never lacked any sympathy or in- 
 terest in his pursuits or occupations. He had done 
 extremely well at Cambridge, and had a great am- 
 bition to take to journalism and literature as a pro- 
 fession, to which he had without difficulty obtained 
 his father's consent. 
 
 It was at this time that he first met Eleanor 
 Russell. He was staying with friends in the village 
 where she lived, and their acquaintance soon ripened 
 
 35
 
 36 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 into that dangerous, but almost inevitable disease, 
 first love. 
 
 It must be admitted that the news of their en- 
 gagement was badly received by the relatives on 
 both sides, but finally Mr. Trevor sanctioned it. 
 He was perhaps the person who understood his 
 son's temperament best of all, and he realized that 
 he was just at an age where such a tie might be 
 a stimulus to work, and a weight to balance his 
 somewhat high-flown opinions and impulsive actions. 
 
 Henry was ardent and hopeful. So soon as his 
 position on the staff of a young and, it must be 
 confessed, very Radical paper, was more assured, 
 they were to be married, and for a short time 
 all seemed couleur de rose. Then Mr. Trevor died 
 quite suddenly, leaving only an old will made 
 many years before, in which he bequeathed every- 
 thing he possessed to his wife. 
 
 Mrs. Trevor was a woman of very decided opin- 
 ions, and did not in the least sympathize with her 
 son in his ambition for literary glory. She consid- 
 ered it rubbish, and waste of time. She was also 
 quite certain that the income she received after her 
 husband's death was only sufficient to support her- 
 self and a daughter, then nearly seventeen years 
 old, in a suitable manner. Therefore the only thing 
 was for Henry to get to work as quickly as possible ; 
 this scribbling, and philandering with a penniless
 
 'TKEVOR LOKDSHIP' 37 
 
 miss, must cease; and being, as we have said, a 
 woman of strong character, and being, moreover, 
 in a position to command, as she held the purse- 
 strings, she packed him off to Australia before his 
 father had lain in his grave three months. 
 
 Being genuinely in love, and having a good meas- 
 ure of self-confidence, Henry Trevor started, per- 
 fectly satisfied that his exile would only be of short 
 duration. That this idea was erroneous we are 
 already aware. 
 
 There was no question that he worked hard, and 
 did his very best with brain and hands, but a race- 
 horse harnessed to a Pantechnicon van would be 
 about as much in its proper place as was Henry 
 Trevor. It is conceivable that the van might move, 
 but that its advance would either be certain or rapid 
 is unlikely. 
 
 To begin with, the life in some ways called out the 
 best of one side of his character, and with a deter- 
 mination not to be beaten, he set about his work 
 with a dogged obstinacy which would have done him 
 no harm had the experience been only temporary. 
 But as year succeeded year, and found him no nearer 
 to the goal of his hopes, his heart ceased to be in his 
 work at all. His highly strung and sensitive nature 
 became dull and warped, and it may be counted as 
 something to his credit that he did not follow in the 
 steps of many round him, and drift rapidly to the dogs.
 
 38 TKEVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 From this he was saved by succeeding influences. 
 First, the memory of Eleanor prevented him joining 
 in the doubtful forms of pleasure which were practi- 
 cally the only amusements to be had, and secondly, 
 when the strength of that memory was perhaps 
 weakened a little, he chanced to meet the man he had 
 mentioned in his conversation with Eleanor, already 
 recorded. 
 
 Johann Kohler was a man such as is not infre- 
 quently met with in the Colonies. For some reason, 
 probably not in any way connected with his own 
 wishes, he was obliged to put the seas between him- 
 self and his Fatherland. Henry always surmised 
 that it was something in the nature of a political 
 offence, although he had no grounds for his belief, 
 beyond his knowledge of the man's character. 
 
 Kohler was reticent as to his past or present cir- 
 cumstances, but he appeared to be possessed of an 
 assured income, as the fluctuations of the barometer, 
 that never-ending anxiety to the Australian squatter, 
 concerned him apparently not at all. In the price of 
 wool he was openly uninterested, but the arrival of 
 his quarterly case of books from Berlin excited him 
 almost into a fever. He was a good linguist, and the 
 contents of the box were representative publications 
 of the literature of England and France, as well as 
 Germany, and covered a very wide range of subjects. 
 
 He became sincerely attached to Henry Trevor,
 
 'TREVOR LORDSHIP' 39 
 
 and, shrewdly diagnosing his condition to be one of 
 positive mental starvation, did his best to counteract 
 it. 
 
 This, then, was the man who, for nearly ten 
 years, was the only congenial companion Trevor had 
 known. It can hardly be wondered at, then, if his 
 horizon became also bounded by the case from Berlin, 
 and that every spare moment of the day or night was 
 spent at Kohler's house. When we consider for one 
 moment the fact that many of us who live in country 
 villages, and even towns, have been accused of being 
 " groovy," in spite of our being at all events able to 
 interchange ideas and opinions with at least a few 
 dozens of human beings, and then consider whether it 
 was unnatural that this young man, enduring what 
 was practically solitary confinement through the best 
 years of his life, with one old German bookworm and 
 a feast of books, and starting, mark you! with a 
 strong bent in the same direction, should become 
 oblivious of the fact that the world had any other 
 diet to offer. 
 
 When the news of his inheritance reached him he 
 realized that his exile was over, and that he was free 
 at last ; but it was not with unmixed joy that he 
 looked forward to entering the whirlpool of life 
 again. He had lived too long in a backwater to feel 
 prepared to swim in full stream. 
 
 He thought of Eleanor with some apprehension, but
 
 40 TEEVOK LOKDSHIP 
 
 at the same time the idea of not marrying her never 
 crossed his mind. That was an unalterable arrange- 
 ment, as much part of him as his eyes, or his right 
 hand, but he only hoped that she would not make 
 demands upon his time. He had existed, rather 
 more dead than alive, mentally, he considered, for 
 what seemed to him to be a century, and now, come 
 what might, he had every intention of arranging his 
 own life, and enjoying himself in his own way. 
 
 But very soon after he and his wife came to 
 1 Trevor Lordship,' this apprehension vanished, and 
 he was more content than he had ever been before. 
 
 The library, which was a noted one, had fallen into 
 the hands of some one who really knew how to appre- 
 ciate it, and sometimes, as he sat in the evening with 
 his chair drawn up to the uncurtained window, the 
 lamp just where the light fell right, and turning over 
 the pages of some long-desired treasure with reverent 
 fingers, he felt that he had no wish ungratified. He 
 was very much in the position of the drunkard who, 
 after having been for years limited to just sufficient 
 liquor to whet his appetite, suddenly finds himself 
 with an unlimited quantity ready to his hand, only 
 waiting for him to help himself. 
 
 He had very quickly regulated the hours of the 
 household to suit his own convenience. Early rising 
 had become a habit, and he rose at five o'clock every 
 morning, and, after an early cup of coffee, rode on
 
 'TKEVOK LOKDSHIP' 41 
 
 horseback for two or three hours. This daily pro- 
 ceeding had very nearly caused a rebellion among the 
 respectable servants, to whom the appearance of the 
 master of the house before eight-thirty, at earliest, 
 was an indecent thing; but of this he was quite uncon- 
 scious. Returning about eight o'clock, he went into 
 the library, where he remained until the gong sounded 
 for luncheon. After luncheon he generally walked 
 round the small farm attached to the gardens, and 
 then he was not visible again until dinner time. It 
 cannot be said that when this time-table was followed 
 he was overburdened with the society of his wife. But 
 be this as it may, he was supremely contented. 
 
 Eleanor too had found the peace for which she had 
 longed. When once the rest and quiet had restored 
 to her her usual strength of mind and body, she had 
 taken up such occupations as lay to her hand with 
 keen enjoyment. The servants, a little inclined at 
 first to resent the authority of a new mistress, soon 
 found that she was not to be imposed upon, and, in a 
 short time, learnt to respect her wishes. There is, 
 after all, nothing which leads to this happy result 
 more rapidly than the quickly realized fact that the 
 mistress knows what she is talking about, and this 
 Eleanor certainly did. She was a born femme de 
 menage, and so this part of her duties took up very 
 little time. 
 
 The house itself was a great delight to her. Eliza-
 
 42 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 bethan in character, what restorations had from time 
 to time been necessary had been done with taste and 
 judgment, for the result was not apparent. The 
 staircase, hall, and dining-room were panelled in old 
 oak, hung with a few good portraits. On one side 
 of the large hall was the dining-room, and on the 
 other the library, while behind the latter lay a pretty 
 morning room, with a door and a few stone steps 
 leading into the garden. 
 
 The drawing room was upstairs, as is frequently 
 the case in houses of this date, a long, low room 
 panelled with silk of a delicate faded blue. Over the 
 fireplace, a " Claude " painting was framed into the 
 white over-mantel. The furniture was chiefly French, 
 with a few good examples of Sheraton and Hepple- 
 white, and there were several recesses in the walls 
 with shelves loaded with china. 
 
 Miss Price had been a collector and connoisseur of 
 porcelain, and Eleanor had learnt enough about it 
 from her to highly appreciate her new possessions. 
 The most severe critic would have found very little to 
 cavil at in the old house at ( Trevor Lordship,' and 
 Eleanor was certainly not critical. Each succeeding 
 day she felt her love for the place growing stronger. 
 
 The garden was also a never-ending joy. All the 
 late summer flowers had been in their beauty when 
 she first saw it, and now each day was clothing the 
 surrounding landscape in more beautiful tints of
 
 'TREVOR LORDSHIP' 43 
 
 crimson and gold. The old gardener, delighted with 
 her appreciation of the scene of his lifelong labours, 
 was ready to do anything in the world to please her, 
 even to cutting his most cherished blooms. 
 
 Eleanor had, within the first few weeks of her 
 married life, asked her husband more than once if 
 she were not usurping authority in matters which he 
 would prefer to keep under his own control, but she 
 soon discovered the truth, namely, that, so long as he 
 was not disturbed, she might do exactly as she liked. 
 
 She did not forget her old friend in the midst of 
 her new content, and every week she wrote a long 
 letter to Miss Price. Letters which the old lady read 
 carefully, answered fondly, and then laid away with 
 a sigh. A sigh not so much for the present, as for 
 the future of the younger woman whom she so dearly 
 loved. 
 
 It is a pity that the phrase, "a woman with a 
 past," has come to be used only in an unpleasant 
 sense. If we divest our minds of this modern appli- 
 cation of the words, and use them in the simple and 
 not the double sense, we see that it is only when a 
 woman has a past, when she has lived through the 
 fires that purify while they burn, that she is really 
 able to bring the deepest sympathy, and the fullest 
 understanding, to bear upon the lives of those around 
 her. 
 
 Miss Price had not spent all her life in a quiet
 
 44 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 country village that was merely the haven of her 
 later years ; and the lives of those she had known, the 
 romance, the tragedy, the splendour, and the squalor 
 which exist under the cloak in which it is the merci- 
 ful custom for us to hide our inner selves from 
 strangers, were no secret to her. She had a particu- 
 larly strong faculty for understanding the minds of 
 others, when, as she put it, they were worth under- 
 standing. So she sighed as she laid Eleanor's weekly 
 letters together, wondering how long it would be be- 
 fore the wife realized that conjugal affection, even 
 when calm, did not mean merely acting as house- 
 keeper and head gardener; and when that day came, 
 what would be the result ? 
 
 It is an axiom that men are creatures of habit. By 
 men, presumably, is meant the human race, as it is a 
 feminine as well as a masculine characteristic. But 
 how few of us really understand how large a part 
 habit, or the doing the thing expected of us, plays in 
 our everyday actions ! 
 
 Both Eleanor and Henry Trevor, but particularly 
 the former, would have been profoundly astonished if 
 any one had suggested to them that they had married 
 because it was the thing expected of them, the thing 
 that they had expected of themselves, and not from 
 that strong desire and yearning for each other, which, 
 after all, constitutes the greatest, if not the only, 
 chance of making a success of the undertaking.
 
 'TREVOR LORDSHIP' 45 
 
 They had allowed themselves to drift blindly on 
 the stream of circumstances. But in her deep affection 
 for Eleanor Trevor, Miss Price was able to make a 
 shrewd guess at the truth, and she knew well that 
 her mind was too strong for this state of things to 
 continue indefinitely. It had been, as it were, stupe- 
 fied by the stagnant surroundings in which her life 
 had for years been passed, but that was altered now, 
 and when its natural power reasserted itself, what 
 would happen? Would the awakening, when it came, 
 be for weal or woe?
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 LAVENDER 
 
 "For on our daily road, all travellers are brothers ! 
 We learn from all, and teach something, perchance, to others. 
 Be the way long or short, in sun or rainy weather, 
 We're richer, all, I know, for journeying together." 
 
 HAD any stranger desired information regarding the 
 inhabitants of the village of 'Trevor Lordship/ he 
 would, had he been wise in his generation, have gone 
 to the sexton for it. The connection between provid- 
 ing seemly resting-places for the departed, and having 
 an intimate knowledge of every detail of the lives of 
 the living is not apparent, but the two frequently go 
 together. 
 
 This worthy would, in all probability, have led the 
 enquirer as far as the lych-gate, for this point of 
 vantage afforded a coup (Tail of the main street of 
 the village, which was, in point of fact, the only 
 street it boasted. 
 
 On either side of the wide thoroughfare were only 
 two houses worthy of note. On the right-hand side 
 lived Dr. Walker and Mr. Stephens the solicitor, and 
 on the left hand Captain Maitland and Lavender 
 Hagger. It would have been obvious from the sexton's 
 tone that the first two people were of no particular 
 
 46
 
 LAVENDER 47 
 
 interest, but that the last two named were of the 
 highest importance to the community. 
 
 This was the case, although their stations in life 
 were very different, one being Captain Maitland, 
 R.N. (retired), and the other being Mrs. Lavender 
 Hagger, of the village shop. 
 
 In the opinion of Mrs. Stephens, the solicitor's 
 wife, this was a ridiculous state of things, and quite 
 undeserved. It rankled in the good lady's mind 
 that, in spite of her long residence in the village, she 
 had never been able to attain to the pinnacle of fame 
 attained by Lavender Hagger, Grocer. 
 
 Why did every one go to the little shop with their 
 troubles and worries, and, still harder to bear, with 
 their gossip? To be first with any piece of news 
 was the joy of her life, and there was very little 
 of that commodity in { Trevor Lordship.' Also, why 
 quiet old Captain Maitland, who saw few friends of 
 his own standing, and never even gave a dinner 
 party! should be so popular, she was at a loss to 
 understand. But then, it must be granted, she was 
 not a lady of discernment. 
 
 The Captain had lived in the house next to the 
 quaint little shop for over twenty years. Vide the 
 sexton, he had been to the North Pole, and nearly 
 died there. He had been an intimate friend of the 
 late Sir Henry Trevor, and Eleanor had not been 
 many weeks in her new home before a warm friend-
 
 48 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 ship grew up between her and the old man. At first 
 sight he was not a striking figure, short and spare, 
 with a quiet, rather grave manner, and faded blue 
 eyes with a sad expression in them when he was 
 silent. When he spoke, however, the sadness van- 
 ished, and such a change came over his face that the 
 first time Eleanor saw it she felt that she must have 
 been mistaken, and that it was not sad at all. Such 
 a sympathy and lovingkindness seemed to radiate 
 from him, and there at once was the reason why 
 every one loved him, and why he never walked 
 through the village without a trail of little attend- 
 ants who hung upon his every word and look. He 
 certainly was one of the most delightful people 
 Eleanor had ever met. 
 
 One afternoon, late in October, she paid him a 
 visit, in order to choose for herself some plants of 
 a particular Michaelmas daisy which she wished to 
 possess for her herbaceous border, and having de- 
 cided this point to her satisfaction, Captain Maitland 
 volunteered to accompany her as far as the lodge, 
 and they passed down the street together. 
 
 " Have you made the acquaintance of Lavender 
 yet ? " asked the Captain. 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Eleanor, smiling ; " isn't she a 
 wonderful woman ? That type of real old-fashioned 
 country woman did not exist in the village where I 
 used to live. Do tell me something about her life."
 
 LAVENDER 49 
 
 " She has had rather a struggle," was the answer. 
 "Her husband was an honest, stupid, thoroughly 
 well-intentioned man, who never made any money 
 in his life. He died about ten years ago. She has 
 had many children, but all died young, with the ex- 
 ception of one, a daughter, who married six or seven 
 years back. She was the child of Lavender's old age, 
 and her mother adored her, and, in consequence, I 
 fear, spoilt her a little. When she was about twenty, 
 she ran away from home, and married a man of 
 rather bad character, half a gipsy, and wholly a ne'er- 
 do-well, much to her mother's grief. She had done 
 all she could for several years to stop the affair, 
 and afterwards could only be thankful they were 
 married." 
 
 " Does she live here too ? " asked Eleanor. 
 
 " They live in a caravan, and move about from 
 place to place, which the old woman feels is a dread- 
 ful come down, but she never says much about it. 
 And certainly the few times I have seen the girl, she 
 looks beamingly happy. She brought her baby to 
 see me last year, and both she and the child looked 
 pictures of health. I do not think the shop is a very 
 lucrative business now. The stores at Larnham, only 
 five miles off, have cut into the old trade very much, 
 I fancy." 
 
 "We must give her some orders," said Eleanor; 
 " which reminds me that I had forgotten to buy the
 
 50 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 ball of string I wanted. Do you mind very much 
 if we go back? It isn't very far. I wonder why 
 string has such a peculiar faculty for disappearing, 
 and pens too," she added, smiling. 
 
 "I have sometimes thought," responded her com- 
 panion, as they retraced their steps, " that there is a 
 tribe of invisible domestic demons who run off with 
 the very thing you are looking for, and then, when 
 you have, in despair, given up looking for it, Hey, 
 presto ! it is lying in front of your nose, generally in 
 its proper place. Have you never noticed it with 
 letters? If I want to answer a letter, which I am 
 thankful to say is not often, I lay it down on my 
 table, and the next moment it has vanished into thin 
 air. After a frenzied search among my papers, I 
 give it up, and lo and behold ! there it is again." 
 
 " 1 don't think I have noticed it with letters," she 
 replied. " But it certainly is the case with string ! " 
 
 The Captain put his hand into his pocket, and 
 gravely produced two pieces of string, one thick, and 
 one thin, done up sailor fashion into little hanks. 
 
 " My life depended once on a piece of string no thicker 
 than that. Try my plan, and always carry some." 
 
 "Ah ! " laughed Eleanor, "men have the advantage 
 of us in the matter of pockets." 
 
 It was Saturday afternoon, and the little shop was 
 crowded when they entered. It did not take many 
 people to crowd it. Behind the counter old Lavender
 
 LAVENDER 51 
 
 was busy serving her customers, and dispensing goods 
 and advice at the same time. 
 
 " Ah ! Mrs. May," she was saying, as Eleanor 
 came in, " try camomile flowers ; there's nothing like 
 them, you may be sure." 
 
 "Nought seems to touch it, not a bit," was the 
 reply, given in lugubrious tones. " Some one told 
 me to try alum, said that was what the doctors used, 
 but it warn't no manner of use." 
 
 " You can't expect to cure a thing at once," replied 
 Lavender, briskly. " Try camomile flowers, and 
 hope. Good-evening, m' lady, what may I do for 
 you?" 
 
 Eleanor stated her requirements, but added that 
 she could wait a moment. 
 
 " You must not keep your customers waiting for 
 me. Good-evening, Mrs. May," she went on, turning 
 to the woman who had just spoken. " I hope your 
 husband is better ? " 
 
 " No, m' lady, he isn't, not a bit. He's just a slip- 
 ping off. He says to me this day, says he, ' My dear, 
 don't you worry to walk to t' shop, for I'll be gone 
 before you come back.' That was the very words he 
 said, and I never was one as held with trying to keep 
 them back what wished to go. But I came down to 
 get a few things for him," she added, with uncon- 
 scious inconsistency. 
 
 " Now, Mrs. May," said Lavender, " don't go talk-
 
 52 TKEVOK, LORDSHIP 
 
 ing like that. If that's the sort of talk you give to 
 William, there's no wonder he's bad. Give him a 
 turn of cheerfulness." 
 
 " 'Tain't every one 'as got cheerfulness to give," put 
 in another woman. 
 
 "Well," Lavender replied, "my brother, as used 
 to be coachman up at yours, m' lady," she nodded at 
 Eleanor, " many years ago used to say 'twas a mair 
 ter of a sluggish liver. Many and many's the time 
 I've heard him say, ' When you feels like that, put 
 your trust in God, and take a bite off a horse-ball ! ' : 
 
 Eleanor laughed heartily, there was something 
 irresistibly funny in the old lady's manner. As she 
 spoke, she nodded her head repeatedly all the time. 
 The light of a lamp which hung from the ceiling 
 shone on the small, tight knob into which her Avhite 
 hair was drawn, giving her the appearance of a 
 nodding little Chinese god, and her brown hands were 
 moving quickly this way and that, weighing, folding, 
 tying, with the dexterity born of long practice. 
 
 " That's a long way to go home, that it is, when 
 you've shoppin's to carry," resumed Mrs. May, plain- 
 tively ; " and that path through the mill field, that is 
 rough ! " 
 
 " Ay, that it is," chipped in one or two voices. 
 
 " I spoke to Mr. Brown about it a week or two 
 back, I did. I said 'twere a wonder as my legs 
 weren't broke. And what do you think he said ? "
 
 LA VENDEE 53 
 
 There was a moment's breathless silence among 
 the audience, as she waited to emphasize the effect of 
 her words. 
 
 " He said/' she announced dramatically, " that 
 1 some of us needed a rough path ' ! That's what he 
 said. There ! What d'ye think of that ? " 
 
 " It wasn't quite kind," Eleanor replied. 
 
 "No, m' lady, that it weren't, not quite kind, but" 
 and her voice dropped back into its former lugubrious 
 tone, as she picked up her basket and prepared to go 
 " it's got to be trod, and I'm main sure he'll not be 
 there when I get back." 
 
 " Come, come ! " put in Lavender, decidedly, as she 
 took down the string for Eleanor. "Just you go 
 home and try camomile flowers, and hope. Good- 
 night. Good-night." 
 
 A few moments later, Eleanor and Captain Mait- 
 land resumed their walk. It was dusk, and the air 
 was full of coming frost. That first frost of autumn 
 which seems to brace us, body and soul, after the 
 relaxation of summer's heat. 
 
 " I hope I did not keep you too long, but really it 
 was so interesting." 
 
 " Not a bit," he answered heartily. " I often go 
 into the shop on a Saturday night, just to stand and 
 watch. It is better than a theatre to me, because 
 even if they do act a little, like Mrs. May, it is quite 
 unconsciously. What a picture it made, didn't it?
 
 64 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 The group of tired, toil-worn faces in half shadow, 
 and the light shining full on old Lavender. Do you 
 know, Lady Trevor, that she is one of those people 
 for whom time stands still, I think. She hasn't 
 altered a scrap since I first knew her, twenty years 
 ago. The first time I saw her she was standing, just 
 as she was to-night, full of cheerfulness, sympathy, 
 and good sense, and oh dear ! how funny she is some- 
 times, without in the least meaning it. Now which 
 was the cure for depression really ? The horse-ball, 
 or the trust in God ? " 
 
 " Oh, undoubtedly the two together," returned 
 Eleanor, laughing. " That was the whole point, like 
 the camomile flowers and hope. I do not know who 
 lives here," she added, as they passed a gateway, 
 leading into what, in the fading light, appeared to be 
 a shrubbery. 
 
 " That," said the Captain, " is a house of mystery. 
 Not really, you know, but if the gossips in a little 
 village are not able to find out everything, they im- 
 mediately hint at a secret. It belongs to the Mr. Brown 
 who owns the famous path, a butcher in Larnham. 
 A cousin of your husband's lived in it for some time, 
 and there used to be a gate leading from the garden 
 into your park, but I suppose it is closed now. A 
 Scotchman and his wife live there now, Mollison by 
 name. Very quiet, respectable people of the farmer 
 class, but as he does no work beyond looking after
 
 LAVENDER 55 
 
 the garden, the villagers ask, ' Where does he get his 
 money from ? ' 
 
 " Is that all the mystery ? " 
 
 " Well, there is a rumour that there is a mysterious 
 lady living there, who is his employer, but how true 
 that is, I don't know. The little place is quite 
 secluded, and no one ever sees any one except the 
 man, and very occasionally the wife. Mrs. Stephens 
 is getting quite thin in her unsuccessful efforts to find 
 out the truth. She ventured to the house once, I 
 believe, but was routed by Mrs. Mollison." 
 
 " If there is any one living there, there seems to be 
 no reason why they should not be left alone, if they 
 do not desire company." 
 
 " In the eyes of Mrs. Stephens," continued Captain 
 Maitland, with>a smile, " there is a crime in seclusion. 
 Poor woman ! she has her points, but she is a square 
 peg in a round hole. She ought to live in a suburb 
 of London, where tea fights and muffin worries abound, 
 and every one lives on their neighbour's doormat, and 
 all the domestic details are hung out on a line, like the 
 family washing." 
 
 " With a label displayed in the area, i No privacy 
 permitted,' like ' No bottles,' " laughed Eleanor. " It 
 is lucky we don't all think alike ! " 
 
 " Fortunately we don't all consider a person of 
 reserve to be a shade worse than a burglar ! " the 
 Captain continued. " Personally, my fellow-creatures
 
 56 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 interest me enormously, but I shouldn't like to pry 
 into their private affairs, any more than I should like 
 them to pry into mine. After all, we are all steering 
 the same course, and when I see a ship, I like to 
 speak it, to pass the time of day, and hear if all's well 
 with them, but I shouldn't think of boarding them, 
 and insisting upon reading their log, unless I was 
 especially invited to do so. Every one has entries 
 intended only for the eye of the Superior Officer. 
 Haven't you found that ? " 
 
 There was a moment's pause, and then Eleanor 
 said slowly : 
 
 " I think there are entries which we sometimes 
 do not quite understand ourselves." 
 
 " They will be made clear when the accounts are 
 squared, and we are paid off," he said simply. 
 " But here we are at your door, Lady Trevor. I 
 have come further than I intended." 
 
 " Won't you come in for a little ? " 
 
 "No, thank you," was the reply. "It is getting 
 chilly ; I will be getting home now. Good-night," as 
 they shook hands, "and thank you for a pleasant walk." 
 
 As Eleanor crossed the hall, the butler came 
 forward. 
 
 " If you please, my lady," he said, " Sir Henry 
 has been asking for you. A gentleman of the 
 name of Locke is with him, came about two hours 
 ago. A lawyer, I think, my lady."
 
 LAVENDER 57 
 
 He was evidently interested in the visitor, as is 
 the way of an old servant. 
 
 " Tell Sir Henry I will be with him in five minutes, 
 Turner," she replied, as she hurried upstairs to remove 
 her coat and hat. " How unfortunate," she thought 
 to herself, "that I should happen to be out the 
 very first time he sends for me."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 AN INTERVIEW 
 
 " For nothing on earth is sadder 
 
 Than the dream that cheated the grasp." 
 
 A. L. GORDON. 
 
 " MR. LOCKE has brought me an unexpected piece 
 of information, Eleanor," said Sir Henry, when, a 
 few minutes later, she entered the library. He 
 seemed a little perturbed, she thought, as he stood 
 with his back to the fire, repeatedly passing his hand 
 over his hair. She had learnt that this little trick 
 showed itself when anything occurred to disturb the 
 even tenor of his thoughts. 
 
 " Yes," replied the lawyer ; " I am afraid it was 
 quite unexpected." 
 
 "I think the best plan will be for you to give 
 Lady Trevor the facts as you have given them to 
 me, Mr. Locke." 
 
 Eleanor sat down in the chair her husband placed 
 for her, wondering what in the world she was going 
 to hear. Her thoughts flew round in different direc- 
 tions, but she could think of nothing likely to have 
 necessitated her presence. Then Mr. Locke began. 
 
 " You may perhaps know, Lady Trevor, that your 
 husband had a relation, a second cousin, one Robert 
 
 58
 
 AN INTERVIEW 59 
 
 Trevor; a widower, who has been living at Wimble- 
 don with his two daughters. He died recently, and 
 in his will, of which I am an executor, he leaves the 
 guardianship of his two daughters in the hands of 
 two people, Sir Henry Trevor, of i Trevor Lordship,' 
 and a certain Lady Vernon who lives in London. 
 Sir Henry has just been explaining to me that he 
 was never acquainted with his kinsman, and is, in 
 consequence, much surprised at being appointed 
 guardian. The will is dated some seven years ago, 
 and I think it is evident that the Sir Henry Trevor 
 mentioned is not your husband, but his predecessor 
 and uncle, who died, I understand, some months ago. 
 
 " Robert Trevor left very little money. The young 
 ladies will have a joint income of only about 200 
 a year. I have seen a good deal of them in the 
 last few weeks, and they appear to have no near 
 relations to turn to in their trouble." 
 
 " Who is Lady Vernon, the other guardian ? " 
 asked Eleanor, as the lawyer paused. 
 
 " She is the widow of a city knight, a Sir William 
 Vernon, who was, I think, connected with the big 
 soap firm of that name. She is very rich, I believe, 
 but, on the only occasion upon which I met her, 
 seemed to me to be a most overpowering lady, 
 with very decided opinions. The Miss Trevors do 
 not know her well, and I cannot understand what 
 prompted their father to appoint her one of their
 
 60 TKEVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 guardians. I think I may say," added Mr. Locke, 
 with a slight smile, " that they are not attracted to 
 her." 
 
 " Has she offered to give them a home ? " enquired 
 Eleanor. 
 
 " No, the only offer she has made up to the present 
 was to find a post for Miss Mildred as governess. It 
 was her opinion that if this were done, the money 
 could then be devoted to completing Miss Joan's 
 education, an offer which I need not tell you the 
 young ladies have resented. They are greatly averse 
 to the idea of being parted." 
 
 " That is quite natural," said Eleanor. " I should 
 not have thought there was any necessity for it." 
 
 " Where are they at this moment ? " asked her 
 husband. 
 
 " They are staying in the house where they have 
 lived for some time with their father. A friend of 
 theirs, a Mrs. Lucas, who lives close by, is very kind 
 to them. Some plan will have to be made very soon, 
 however, as it so happens that the lease of the house 
 expires shortly. Mr. Trevor had intended moving, 
 just before he was taken ill." 
 
 " You have a copy of the will with you ? " 
 
 "Yes, Sir Henry," answered the lawyer, as he 
 opened his bag, and laid the document on the table. 
 Then he glanced at the clock. " I have to catch a 
 train at Larnham," he said ; " I am sorry to be in a
 
 AN INTERVIEW 61 
 
 hurry, but I am a busy man. I should have come 
 several days ago, had it not been that business pre- 
 vented me ; and it is imperative that I return to 
 London this evening." 
 
 "You will have something to eat before you go," 
 said Sir Henry, rising and ringing the bell. " There 
 is, of course, a good deal to be said on the subject, and 
 I must talk it over with my wife." 
 
 "Naturally," replied the lawyer. "And also, Sir 
 Henry, you will understand that you are in no way 
 bound to act in the matter ; it can easily be proved 
 that you are not the person mentioned, or intended 
 as guardian, should you prefer to be free from the 
 responsibility; but " he paused. 
 
 Oh ! " said Eleanor, quickly, " I don't think " 
 and she too stopped and hesitated. 
 
 Her husband looked at her, and then said : 
 
 " There is no question of that, I think ; but I do 
 not wish to come to any hasty decision. You shall 
 have a telegram on Monday morning." 
 
 Eleanor was sitting reading in the drawing-room 
 later in the same evening, when, contrary to his cus- 
 tom, Sir Henry joined her. She had expected him, 
 however, as he had made no allusion to the lawyer's 
 visit during dinner. 
 
 " You do not think I should be justified in declin- 
 ing the guardianship ? " he said, plunging into the 
 heart of the matter at once.
 
 62 TEEVOR LOKDSHIP 
 
 "No," said Eleanor, "I do not think you would." 
 
 "I am glad you agree with me," was his reply. 
 " You see, I inherited everything from my uncle, so I 
 feel I must undertake the rough with the smooth. 
 One has to pay a penalty for being the head of the 
 family." 
 
 " From what Mr. Locke said, the girls sound very 
 nice, and I am so sorry for the poor little things left 
 all alone to strangers, because, after all, you are a 
 stranger to them. I can quite understand they can- 
 not bear to be parted, and I think it was heartless of 
 Lady Vernon to suggest it. Did you never know 
 their father?" 
 
 " So far as I can remember," said her husband, " I 
 have never seen him in my life ; but I am quite will- 
 ing to do my best for his girls." 
 
 " Well, there is plenty of room here," said Eleanor, 
 after a pause. 
 
 Sir Henry started. 
 
 " Do you think they need come here ? " he asked. 
 "I didn't " 
 
 " What arrangements were you thinking of mak- 
 ing?" 
 
 " Well, I hardly know," he returned slowly ; " but 
 I thought it would not be difficult to place them in 
 some nice family, or something of that kind. I cer- 
 tainly had no thought of asking them here. I have 
 never been used to children."
 
 AN INTERVIEW 63 
 
 " How old are they ? " she asked, smiling at his tone. 
 
 " Mildred is eighteen, and Joan eight, Mr. Locke 
 said. Did you mean to suggest that they should live 
 with us altogether ? " 
 
 " Doesn't that seem the most obvious thing ? We 
 are only two in this large house, and I really think it 
 would be very pleasant to have them. Or, if you 
 preferred it, they could come on a visit to start with, 
 which might be continued indefinitely if the arrange- 
 ment answered. Or we could discuss it again, if you 
 found you would rather be without them." 
 
 Sir Henry looked very worried. If his wife had 
 suggested bringing a troupe of performing apes into 
 the house, he could hardly have looked more dis- 
 tressed. 
 
 " I don't understand children," he said again. " I 
 am sure it will be dreadfully disturbing." 
 
 Eleanor really felt quite sorry for him. 
 
 " Well," she said, " I don't want you to ask them 
 here against your own wish, but really a girl of 
 eighteen is a woman, and I don't think little Joan 
 will be very noisy. You see, she has had no young 
 brothers or sisters, and must have been accustomed 
 to living with older people." 
 
 " It has been so delightfully quiet and peaceful," 
 said Sir Henry, regretfully. " I cannot tell you how 
 much I have enjoyed it. But perhaps you have 
 found it a little dull?"
 
 64 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 "Not in the least," said Eleanor, quickly. "I 
 think I have enjoyed it every bit as much as you 
 have. I am beginning to love the old place so much, 
 and I quite sympathize with your enjoyment of it, 
 after so many years away from home." 
 
 " I think that is why I am so loath to have our life 
 here altered in any way. But perhaps you are right. 
 Anyway, let them come, as you suggest, and we will 
 talk it over again later, if it does not answer." 
 
 " Very well," she said. " If you like, I will write 
 to them and make all arrangements. They had better 
 come soon ; there is no reason for delay. If you will 
 write to Mr. Locke, you need not trouble about them, 
 but leave it to me to settle." 
 
 She smiled as she spoke. She was beginning to 
 understand her husband, she thought. 
 
 " Oh, do, please," he said, in obvious relief. " By 
 the way," he continued, " I have had a letter from 
 Minnie to-day. She and my mother want to come 
 down here. You might write to them, if you will. 
 The keeper says there are some pheasants to be 
 shot, and I thought perhaps we might ask a gun or 
 two while they are here. Minnie would find it very 
 dull if we were quite alone, and I suppose the 
 birds must be killed, though I don't want a large 
 party." 
 
 "No," said Eleanor. "I should not care about 
 that, for the sake of the girls. They will be in deep
 
 AN INTERVIEW 65 
 
 mourning. I suppose you will ask Captain Maitland 
 to shoot?" 
 
 " Yes, and the Doctor, I think, and Roger Bolding. 
 That's four guns, with myself. We must try and pick 
 up another; we shall want five, Davis says. What 
 an age it is since I shot a pheasant ! " 
 
 " I expect you will enjoy it." 
 
 Presently his mind returned to the question of his 
 wards, for he said : 
 
 " What shall you do with them all day ? It isn't 
 as if it was only for a week, like any other visitors." 
 Then he added suddenly, " I do trust they will not 
 come into the library ! " His tone was almost fright- 
 ened, and Eleanor laughed outright. 
 
 " I will promise you they shall not do that, and I 
 really think their presence in the house will not incon- 
 venience you in any way." 
 
 Sir Henry did not speak for some time ; he sat 
 leaning forward in his chair, his hands clasped in 
 front of him, his thoughts evidently far away. He 
 was never a man of many words, and was inclined to 
 be absent-minded. 
 
 " I am sorry he seems to dislike the prospect of the 
 girls' coming so much," she thought; " but he doesn't 
 understand, and takes it for granted that they will 
 be barbarians." 
 
 It was delightful to feel that he was so contented, 
 and it would be most unfortunate if the arrival of his 
 wards really disturbed his life in any way.
 
 66 TREVOR, LORDSHIP 
 
 " Do not have them if you really dislike the idea," 
 she said quietly. 
 
 " Oh, no ! " he said, " I was not thinking of that. 
 By all means let them come. I am afraid my thoughts 
 had gone a long way back." He hesitated, and then 
 went on, speaking slowly as if he had a difficulty in 
 voicing his thoughts. "Do you know, those years 
 are already beginning to feel like a bad dream ? I 
 don't think any one can realize what it is to me to be 
 at home now. You hear of people spending their 
 lives in a foreign country, but I cannot understand 
 how they can ever feel at home there. I had my 
 occupations and my work, of course, but I worked be- 
 cause I had to, and not because I liked it, and I can 
 only say that never for one moment was the life out 
 there anything but distasteful to me. It is true that 
 one did not always feel it as acutely as one did the 
 first year, but it came to be a mechanical life, a sort 
 of treadmill," he smiled as he spoke. "I think I 
 never lost the feeling of isolation and distance." 
 
 Again he hesitated, then continued, speaking rather 
 faster. 
 
 " You may wonder at my desiring quiet in my life 
 here, and think I must have had plenty out there, but 
 I can only say that out there it seemed an empty si- 
 lence, and here, the quiet is so full of interest and 
 thought. In undisturbed leisure, to follow the minds 
 of great thinkers into wider and wider paths, is so ab-
 
 AN INTERVIEW 67 
 
 sorbing. It is what I have always so keenly desired 
 to do, that perhaps I may be forgiven if, now that I 
 have the chance of obtaining all that has been denied 
 me hitherto, I am unwilling to lose it, unwilling to let 
 anything interfere with what, to me, is such a real de- 
 light. Certainly in my most ambitious moments, and 
 in my most extravagant dreams, I never imagined that 
 I should be the possessor of a library like this." He 
 pointed with his hand in the direction of his room. 
 " I really grudge a moment passed away from my 
 friends in there." 
 
 " I quite understand," said Eleanor, gently. " You 
 have got what you always wished for ; why shouldn't 
 you enjoy it ? " 
 
 " More," he said, " more than I ever hoped for." 
 He sat on without speaking. Eleanor felt touched 
 by what he had just said. He was not a man given 
 to speaking of himself and his own thoughts and fan- 
 cies, and he had hitherto told her nothing of his years 
 of exile, except in a very general way. Now, for the 
 first time it struck her what he had lost in those years 
 that the locusts had eaten. Where were the dreams 
 and ambitions of his early youth, those visions of liter- 
 ary greatness which he had confided to her so long ago ? 
 He had been so full of enthusiasm, so sure of himself, 
 his powers, his future. If any one had suggested to 
 him that he would have reached the age of forty no 
 step nearer the fulfilment of those ambitions, he would
 
 68 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 have scoffed at the idea. Long before then he would 
 have made a name for himself, have given to the world 
 the full harvest of those great thoughts which were 
 struggling for expression in the richness and fertility 
 of his young mind. The seeds would have become 
 flowers, the flowers would have borne fruit, fruit to 
 feed and enrich the generation in which he lived, and 
 the generations yet to be born. 
 
 It was as if his few halting words of confidence, 
 the first confidence on this side of that gulf of years, 
 had been a key to unlock a hidden chamber of 
 memory in Eleanor's mind, and as she sat and watched 
 him, lost in thought, recollection after recollection 
 from that chamber crowded into her mind, and with 
 them came a sense of profound pity for this man's 
 wasted youth. 
 
 For it was a tragedy. What could be more tragic 
 than such great hopes doomed to wither away to 
 nothing, such profitless years, such a promise in 
 spring and such a dearth in summer. And as she 
 thought, she blamed herself bitterly that she had not 
 realized it before ; why had she not done so ? The 
 humiliating answer came quickly in response, "Be- 
 cause she had not thought about it!" 
 
 It is the answer to the same question so many 
 times in our lives. We so seldom think until some 
 chance word or meeting makes a sudden break and 
 eddy, as it were, in the smooth-running stream of our
 
 AN INTERVIEW 69 
 
 mind's advance, and we see that just because of this 
 very smoothness we have missed very, very much. 
 
 " Was it possible," she thought, " that if she had 
 fully understood what his exile was, she could have 
 helped him to bear it better?" The thought was 
 painful, she could not answer it. Had she indeed be- 
 come so self-absorbed, or rather so absorbed in the 
 petty details of daily life, details which already seemed 
 to her rather sordid, that she had never more than 
 touched the outer fringe of the lives of those around 
 her? What had she herself to show for the years 
 that were past? Had her love for her fellows grown 
 stronger ? Had her sympathy grown keener ? And 
 to these questions the answer came, " No ! " 
 
 She was perfectly honest with herself. Even a 
 little unjust, it may be, but that was natural to a 
 woman of her temperament. " But now," she told 
 herself, " Henry's chance had come, perhaps hers too. 
 Long delayed, it was true, but surely not too late." 
 
 They sat on in the quiet room for a long time, each 
 absorbed in their own thoughts. At last Sir Henry 
 roused himself, and picked up the newspaper from 
 the floor, where it had fallen unheeded. He rose 
 from his chair, preparatory to leaving the room. 
 
 " But now," he said earnestly, as if in continuation 
 of his previous words, " I can make up for lost time."
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 TWO GIRLS AND A DOG 
 
 " He is a good dog, and a fair dog, 
 Can there more be said ? " 
 
 Merry Wives of Windsor. 
 
 THERE was a sound of carriage wheels upon the 
 gravel, the hall door was flung open by Turner and 
 his satellite, and Eleanor moved quickly forward to 
 greet the young arrivals. 
 
 As they entered the house, Mildred put her arm 
 protectingly round her sister, and they walked the 
 few steps into the warm comfort of the hall. It was 
 evident that their composure was entirely on the 
 surface. 
 
 The older girl held her head erect, while her e} 7 es 
 had an alert, almost defiant expression, as if she had 
 prepared herself to meet any further buffets Fate 
 might have in store. The younger advanced unwill- 
 ingly, with her eyes lowered, as if all her inclination 
 prompted her to retreat. 
 
 Eleanor was truly sorry for the two poor little souls ; 
 she kissed them both kindly, and could feel them 
 trembling as she did so. She knew they must be very 
 tired, and not a little nervous, and felt anxious to say 
 
 70
 
 TWO GIKLS AND A DOG 71 
 
 or do something to put them at their ease, but the 
 strength of her desire to comfort them only seemed 
 to drive all the kind words she had meant to say 
 away from her lips. After a short pause, which 
 seemed to her to be of endless duration, she said : 
 
 " You are very welcome. Come close to the fire, 
 and get warm. I am sure you must want your tea." 
 
 She could have shaken herself for the utter banal- 
 ity of these remarks, but anything more hearty 
 seemed perfectly impossible to her in the shyness 
 which overwhelmed them, all three. So she busied 
 herself in helping them to unfasten their wraps, draw- 
 ing them nearer to the cheerful hearth as she did so. 
 Suddenly, she felt a movement almost under her feet, 
 and nearly tripped over something. 
 
 " What is it ? " she asked, rather startled. 
 
 " It is Alphonse Daudet," said Joan, speaking for 
 the first time. " He is so dreadfully cold and miser- 
 able." 
 
 The child spoke with tears in her voice, as if she 
 thoroughly endorsed the opinion, and before Eleanor 
 could reply, a small, shivering grey poodle crept from 
 the shelter of his mistress to the warmth of the 
 hearth, where he crouched in a dejected attitude. 
 
 " He is really quite quiet and good," said Mildred. 
 " I hope you do not mind him. We have had him a 
 long time, and he is never any trouble. We could 
 not bear to leave him behind."
 
 72 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 "Of course not," said Eleanor, stoutly. "I am 
 sure you are very fond of him." 
 
 In her heart she was wondering how her husband 
 would receive this unexpected addition to his house- 
 hold. Two girls and a dog was certainly trying him 
 rather high. Would it be possible to suggest a com- 
 fortable lodging in the stables, she thought? But 
 she did not mention it, she really did not dare, for as 
 she looked at Joan, she saw that the child was crouch- 
 ing on the floor beside the dog, as if she feared some 
 such suggestion might be made, and her lip was quiv- 
 ering, as if she were on the point of bursting into 
 tears. 
 
 Eleanor felt quite distracted. What was to be 
 done ? Anything was better than that catastrophe ; 
 but oh ! if only the solid hearthstone would open and 
 swallow the dejected Alphonse Daudet, before the 
 master of the house caught sight of him ! 
 
 At that moment the library door opened, and Sir 
 Henry walked towards them. 
 
 " So you have arrived," he said, in his usual quiet 
 tones. " I hope you have had a good journey, and 
 are not very cold." 
 
 " No, thank you," said the girls, speaking together. 
 Then Mildred added shyly, " It is very good of you 
 to let us come." 
 
 They sat down again ; this time Joan was sitting on 
 the sofa beside her sister. Sir Henry drank his tea,
 
 TWO GIKLS AND A DOG 73 
 
 and chatted easily, asking questions about their 
 changes, and so forth, and Eleanor breathed more 
 freely for a while. Evidently the unwelcome guest 
 was not going to make himself obtrusive ; perhaps he 
 might even escape notice. 
 
 " Have you been used to the country ?" she asked. 
 " If you are fond of animals, there are plenty here to 
 amuse you. There is a charming family of kittens 
 in the stables ; I saw them this morning. You must 
 have a good look round to-morrow." t 
 
 " There is a pony too, isn't there, Eleanor ? " asked 
 Sir Henry. " I have no doubt it is quiet enough for 
 them to drive, if they care to do so." 
 
 Just then Eleanor chanced to look up, and for a 
 moment she held her breath. There, in the middle 
 of the hearthrug, within two feet of Sir Henry, sitting 
 bolt upright, was Alphonse Daudet. The warmth 
 and the alluring scent of muffins had evidently re- 
 stored his lost courage, and he was doing his level 
 best to show off his company manners. Over his left 
 eye hung rakishly a bedraggled black bow, which 
 tied up his topknot, and his long silky ears depended 
 in Early Victorian ringlets on either side of his im- 
 pudent little face. The eye that was not obscured by 
 the sign of mourning was fixed on Sir Henry, and 
 gleamed with piteous entreaty. His small, clammy 
 black nose twitched with agonized longing. The 
 mixture of dejection and hope which was plainly
 
 74 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 written in his whole appearance was inexpressibly 
 ludicrous. 
 
 Sir Henry stooped forward as if unable to classify 
 the weird object which met his gaze, and in response, 
 Alphonse beat the air with a convulsive movement 
 of his forepaws. No one spoke. The moment was 
 all-important. Grave issues were at stake. The fate 
 of Alphonse Daudet hung in the balance. 
 
 Eleanor did not dare to move. Then Sir Henry 
 with great deliberation broke off a piece of his bread 
 and butter, and laid it with infinite gentleness on the 
 tip of the twitching little black nose. Another 
 moment, and the tempting morsel had been tossed 
 high, caught, and had disappeared from view. Sir 
 Henry burst out laughing. A hearty laugh, which 
 quite startled Eleanor, for even as they all joined in 
 it, she realized that it was the first she had ever heard 
 from her husband. 
 
 " What is his name ? " he asked, and on being told, 
 said gravely that he trusted that its owner would 
 live up to his high-sounding patronymic. 
 
 Emboldened by the manner in which her pet had 
 been received, Joan crept forward to Sir Henry's side, 
 and kneeling beside him urged Alphonse to give an 
 exhibition of his talents. He died, he came to life 
 again at the magic word " Policeman." He danced, 
 he sneezed, he said " Please," only pausing between 
 each item of his programme to swallow tempting
 
 TWO GIELS AND A DOG 75 
 
 morsels with the rapidity of a machine and the pre- 
 cision of a letter-box, and, finally, he hurled himself 
 against Sir Henry's knees, and bowed his head be- 
 tween his forepaws, in an attitude of silent prayer. 
 
 Then, after a slight pause, he stretched himself on 
 the rug, his pink tongue lolling out, his tail wagging 
 deliriously, and his breath coming in quick, ecstatic 
 pants. He was overcome with the success of his 
 entertainment, the very picture of satisfied joy. 
 
 When recalling the scene, Eleanor felt as if nothing 
 could be too great a reward for Monsieur Daudet, for 
 the way in which he had saved the situation. It was 
 impossible for any one to feel stiff or shy after they 
 had laughed so heartily at the antics of this colossal 
 jester, and the jester himself was only too aware that his 
 had been the triumph and his alone was all the glory. 
 And there was not the slightest doubt that Sir Henry 
 had been thoroughly entertained. He had praised 
 and caressed and rewarded, all to Joan's huge delight. 
 
 " Where did you get him ? " he asked. 
 
 " Jim gave him to me; he said he had a very good 
 character from his last situation, and followed like an 
 unpaid bill. I don't quite know what he meant, 
 but then I don't sometimes know what Jim does mean. 
 But Alphonse always is good, except when he has an 
 attack of mental abrasion." 
 
 " Really ! " said Sir Henry. " You don't say so ! " 
 
 "Yes," said Joan, confidentially; "he goes off his
 
 76 TKEVOE LOKDSHIP 
 
 chump, you know. Just races round and round and 
 round, until he feels better, and then he sits down." 
 
 " Joany ! " expostulated Mildred, " Sir Henry won't 
 like that dreadful slang." 
 
 " On the contrary, I find it most interesting," he 
 said, smiling. " But who is Jim ?" 
 
 " Oh ! Jim is Jim ! " answered the child, as if that 
 explained everything. Then she added, " His mother 
 is Mrs. Lucas, and he is a great friend of mine." 
 
 " Mr. Locke told us about Mrs. Lucas," said Eleanor; 
 " so I have heard of her." 
 
 " The Lucases have been very kind to us," explained 
 Mildred; "we have seen a great deal of them, and 
 Jim has always been most awfully fond of Joan." 
 
 " Did you teach Monsieur Daudet all these tricks 
 yourself , Joan ?" asked Sir Henry. 
 
 " Oh, no, Jim taught him. Isn't he clever ? Do 
 you know, he lived in a very grand house before he 
 came to us, and it was some time before he would 
 even walk up and down stairs, and he never would 
 walk in the street for a long time. He sat down and 
 barked for the footman to carry him up to bed at 
 night. We hadn't got a footman, you know, only a 
 boot boy, and Alphonse turned up his nose at him. 
 One day when we were out walking, we passed a 
 grand carriage and pair, standing in front of a house, 
 and he jumped in and hopped up on to the front seat, 
 as much as to say, 'At last I am in my proper place.'
 
 77 
 
 It really was very funny, but the old gentleman only 
 laughed. Do you think you could shave him for us ? " 
 
 "Shave him?" repeated Sir Henry, rather help- 
 lessly. 
 
 " Yes/' continued the child ; " I have brought his 
 clippers. You see Jim used to shave him for me" 
 her voice faltered for a moment, then she went on 
 bravely ; " but now Jim isn't here, and I don't think I 
 could quite do it myself. You see, his bare part is 
 quite easy, but you must be careful to leave his what- 
 nots the right shape." 
 
 " His whatnots ! " repeated Sir Henry. He seemed 
 to be quite at sea. 
 
 " Yes ; these little tufts on his back are his what- 
 nots. But if you would rather not," Joan said 
 politely, " I expect I can manage them all right." 
 
 Eleanor felt it was time to corne to her husband's 
 rescue ! 
 
 "We will consult Dobbs to-morrow," she said. 
 " Dobbs is the coachman, and I daresay we shall find 
 that he knows all about it." 
 
 " An excellent idea," said Sir Henry, much relieved. 
 The shape of the whatnots had evidently been more 
 than he felt equal to undertaking. 
 
 " Oh, yes, we wall ask Dobbs ; that will be much bet- 
 ter," said Joan. Then she added, " You won't mind 
 his sleeping in my room? I have brought his 
 blanket, and he very seldom snores. You see, I take
 
 78 TKEVOE LOKDSHIP 
 
 my hair-brush, to bed with me, and throw it at him if he 
 does, which is quite a good plan, except when I lie on 
 it by mistake." 
 
 She looked anxiously at Sir Henry, awaiting his 
 reply. 
 
 "I don't think there can be any objection to that, 
 can there, Eleanor ? " he asked, smiling. " It is 
 possible that the hair-brush might make more noise 
 than Alphonse Daudet, but we must hope for the 
 best." 
 
 " I expect he will sleep soundly to-night, after his 
 journey," said Eleanor. " And to-morrow he can see 
 how he likes country life. Now you had better come 
 upstairs, and see your rooms." 
 
 And so, thanks in no small measure to Alphonse 
 Daudet, the ice was broken, and in a very few days 
 the three settled happily into their new life at ' Trevor 
 Lordship/ On the day after their arrival, Eleanor 
 had a long talk with the girls, and told them quite 
 plainly that there was only one thing that they 
 might not do, and that was, disturb Sir Henry. His 
 library was a sacred spot, on no account to be entered 
 except in the unlikely event of their receiving an 
 invitation to do so. They both at once promised to 
 remember this rule, and Eleanor felt satisfied that the 
 matter was settled, once and for all. 
 
 As she had prophesied, their presence made very 
 little difference to the master of the house, and he
 
 TWO GIRLS AND A DOG 79 
 
 seemed to enjoy their company when he saw them, 
 which was seldom, except at meals. 
 
 Mildred was rather shy of him at first, but little 
 Joan seemed to consider that after his reception of 
 her pet, they were sworn allies. Joan was altogether 
 a friendly little person, and was soon on the best of 
 terms with every one, including Dobbs, to whom, the 
 question of the whatnots did not seem to present the 
 same difficulty as to Sir Henry. The child had seen 
 very little real country, and her days were spent in 
 ecstatic raptures over every animal on the place. 
 
 On their first Sunday, Eleanor noticed with some 
 amusement that on coming out of church, Joan ran 
 up to Sir Henry, and, taking his hand in her confi- 
 dential, childish way, announced that she was going 
 to walk home with him. This she did, chattering 
 gaily all the time. 
 
 When they reached the house, Joan said contentedly: 
 
 " I have settled it all. He's going to be our 
 uncle. It has been rather difficult, because I do 
 think Sir Henry" (she pronounced it Senery, all in 
 one word), "sounds like a vegetable, don't you? and 
 Mildred said it was rude to say ' him ' all the time, 
 but now he's our uncle it makes it quite right, and 
 you'll be our aunt too, won't you ? That will be 
 quite comfy." 
 
 Eleanor and Mildred laughed, and agreed it was a 
 very good idea.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 FRESH FIELDS AND PASTURES NEW 
 " Such stuff the world is made of." 
 
 COWPBR. 
 
 Miss PRICE'S words, "You may see many things 
 that surprise you," returned to Eleanor's mind very 
 forcibly when she first saw her husband's relations ; 
 and the person who occasioned her most surprise was 
 her sister-in-law, Minnie Ross. She had not unnat- 
 urally expected to find her a woman of her own age 
 and standing, and had been almost speechless with 
 astonishment when Mrs. Trevor arrived, accompanied 
 by some one who, at the first glance, looked about 
 three and twenty. 
 
 Even among her own friends, Minnie (every one 
 called her Minnie) was pointed out as being an ex- 
 traordinarily young-looking woman, and with reason. 
 She was altogether of a type with which Eleanor 
 was unacquainted, a modern of the moderns, and if 
 that odious term " smart " was deserved by any one, it 
 was richly deserved by Minnie. She was " smart " 
 to her carefully manicured finger-tips ! How she 
 would have loved to hear you say so ! Nothing 
 could have pleased her more. After all, it is some- 
 
 80
 
 81 
 
 thing to attain the summit of your ambitions, even if 
 that summit isn't very exalted. It is the position 
 that brings the satisfaction, not the altitude. Her 
 friends were in the habit of saying, " Jolly little sort, 
 Minnie ; very smart indeed, but no harm in Minnie, 
 oh, dear, no ! " 
 
 She was charmingly pretty, petite and vivacious, 
 with a mass of soft brown hair which fluffed when 
 fluffs were the thing, and rippled when the wave of 
 fashion broke into ripples. She changed her style of 
 hair-dressing about as often as she did the cut of her 
 skirt, and somehow each change became her better 
 than the one before. She knew well enough that if 
 the " habit makes the monk," clothes make a smart 
 woman, and, being really an artist in her own line, 
 the clothes' line, was always perfectly turned out. 
 Above all, she was thoroughly aware of her own attrac- 
 tiveness, and used the knowledge as a skilful fencer 
 uses his foil. 
 
 It was rather surprising that this, being the case, 
 she was so popular ; but even women liked Minnie, 
 and forgave her for cutting them out. She was so 
 childishly pleased with herself, and so willing to let 
 other people do as they liked, provided she might do 
 the same. She never said spiteful things, and was 
 thoroughly good-natured ; the truth being that she 
 was far too much wrapped up in her frivolous little 
 self, and her frivolous little affairs, to have any time
 
 82 TKEVOK LORDSHIP 
 
 to spare for the business of her neighbours. So easily 
 is a reputation for good nature won, in a world where 
 you may be forgiven for being a kitten, but never for 
 being a cat ! 
 
 As a matter of fact, if there was any one who was 
 placed in Minnie's affections besides Minnie herself, 
 it was her own husband, but he came in such a bad 
 second as to be almost out of the running. 
 
 Hugh Ross was at this time stationed in India, a 
 country which his wife associated with Black Holes 
 and lost complexions, and classed as "impossible." 
 There was a pleasant understanding that she was on 
 a visit to her mother, until she should join her hus- 
 band, but she never for a moment intended doing so. 
 It was really more than any man could expect. And 
 if sometimes in the back of her mind she wished he 
 were not so far away, the wish was prompted more 
 by the feeling that it was useful to have a man be- 
 longing to you, than by any desire for him, Hugh 
 Ross, in person, and this only happened when she 
 was bored, which wasn't often. She took very good 
 care not to be, and on the whole succeeded remark- 
 ably well. 
 
 Mrs. Trevor adored her, and allowed her to do any- 
 thing she liked, which was perhaps wise, as it is very 
 doubtful if any other course would have been practi- 
 cable. It may be that the old lady was shrewd enough 
 to know this, for while presenting a stern and un-
 
 FRESH FIELDS AND PASTURES NEW 83 
 
 bending front to all the world, and frowning porten- 
 tously on its every foible, she was all smiles and 
 yielding affection to her only daughter. 
 
 In conversation with her friends she always alluded 
 to Minnie's approaching departure for India, saying, 
 " A wife's place is with her husband, of course, and 
 dear Minnie will do what is right, but it will be 
 a terrible wrench, etc., etc." But this highly moral 
 statement was wearing so thin as to allow her audi- 
 tors to obtain a glimpse of the truth, which was, that 
 the old lady assisted to paint the picture of the burn- 
 ing East in lurid colours, having not the slightest 
 intention of parting with Minnie if she could help 
 it. 
 
 It was in accordance with her rule never to be 
 bored, that Minnie had, with admirable forethought, 
 arranged for her own amusement during her stay at 
 ' Trevor Lordship.' She was curious to see her brother 
 and his wife in their new home, but from what she 
 had seen of Henry in London, it seemed highly prob- 
 able that the visit would be extremely dull, and being 
 wise in her generation, she had provided herself with 
 an antidote, in the shape of a certain Mr. Vane- 
 Talbert, familiarly known as Toby. 
 
 On the morning of her arrival, Sir Henry had been 
 surprised to receive a telegram from her, saying, 
 " Bringing Toby Vane-Talbert, do give him a shoot." 
 Who Toby Vane-Talbert was, neither Sir Henry nor
 
 84 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 Eleanor had the vaguest idea, but in any case it was 
 too late for a return telegram. 
 
 Minnie explained him to Eleanor later, in her usual 
 airy way. 
 
 " He knows every one, you know, and goes every- 
 where, and is always so nice and useful. His father 
 was Lord Philip Vane-Talbert, you know. Toby was 
 in the House for a bit, but he chucked it. He lost 
 his wife about two years ago, poor thing. He really 
 is a dear boy." 
 
 The term seemed to Eleanor a little inappropriate, as 
 she thought Mr. Vane-T albert' s farewell to his boy- 
 hood must have been said some years ago; but it was 
 difficult to fix his age, he might have been anything 
 between eight and twenty and eight and forty. He 
 was small and spare, and very neat, neat black hair, 
 neat black moustache, neat clothes, neat movements. 
 His manners were charming, very charming ; it was 
 his particular role to be all things to all women, and 
 to speak to each as if she alone were his bright par- 
 ticular star; they liked it, and it might mean any- 
 thing or nothing. 
 
 The only other guest was Roger Bolding, a bachelor 
 squire, who lived in a house called Haines Hall, about 
 eight miles from ' Trevor Lordship.' His elder brother, 
 since dead, had been a Cambridge friend of Henry 
 Trevor's, and on hearing of his coming to the neigh- 
 bourhood Bolding had hastened to be friendly, at first 
 for his brother's sake, and later for his own.
 
 FRESH FIELDS AND PASTURES NEW 85 
 
 He was a tall man of about five and thirty, with 
 good, clear-cut features; his clean-shaven face was 
 exactly the type of the " bloods " of Beau Brummel's 
 time, and looked as if he ought to wear ruffles and 
 powdered hair ; strong, energetic, and resourceful, far 
 quicker than his rather heavy build led one to suppose. 
 He was about the best known man in the county, and 
 about the most popular, for he was a thorough sports- 
 man and a first-rate rider. In addition to these 
 qualifications, he was possessed of that cheery, cordial 
 manner which goes such a long way in winning the 
 friendship of rich and poor alike. 
 
 As Eleanor sat at the head of her table on the first 
 evening, she felt as if she were watching some very 
 entertaining play. Up to the present time, dinner 
 had been a very quiet meal, although conducted with 
 a good deal of pomp by Mr. Turner, who had his own 
 opinion as to how " things should be done." Since 
 Mildred's arrival, the order of things had been a little 
 more cheerful, but to-night was a new departure. She 
 looked round the table, with its load of beautiful old sil- 
 ver and glass, its vases of hothouse flowers, and the note 
 of comfort, almost amounting to luxury, appealed to 
 her as something novel and very pleasant. She was 
 entirely ignorant of the hundred and one slang terms 
 which are in everyday use in certain circles, and 
 sometimes found it quite difficult to understand the 
 meaning they were intended to convey, but she noticed
 
 86 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 that Mildred and Roger Holding, and even Captain 
 Maitland, seemed to find it quite natural. 
 
 Minnie and Mr. Bolding had met before, and had 
 mutual friends, and as the party was small enough to 
 admit of general conversation, the ball of small-talk 
 was kept rolling merrily enough. Eleanor was study- 
 ing her sister-in-law in admiration and bewilderment. 
 Was it possible that that beautiful girl, for she looked 
 little more in the subdued light of the shaded candles, 
 could be within two years of her own age ? 
 
 Minnie had glided down to dinner, rather late, 
 she was thoroughly aware how effective it is to time 
 your entry so that all may be assembled to admire, 
 in a shimmering gown of white and silver, with a 
 diaphanous scarf draped over her shoulders, as was 
 the fashion of the moment. A rope of pearls hung 
 round her neck, and a large diamond crescent was 
 perched in her fluffy hair. Fluffs were the thing just 
 then ! She really made a charming picture, and knew 
 it, and now there she was, sitting between Roger 
 Bolding and Captain Maitland, chattering and laugh- 
 ing with all the spirit of a girl of sixteen. Mildred 
 Trevor was pretty, in a fresh, girlish way, but un- 
 doubtedly to-night, in her black frock, she only 
 served as a foil to the glitter of this white and 
 silver butterfly. 
 
 If Eleanor's surprise at her sister-in-law's appear- 
 ance had been great, it was equally a fact that Mrs.
 
 FRESH FIELDS AND PASTURES NEW 87 
 
 Trevor and Minnie felt the same, so far as she was 
 concerned. Mrs. Trevor had become thoroughly im- 
 bued with the idea that her son was making a mis- 
 alliance in marrying a woman whom no one had ever 
 heard of, and Minnie shared this opinion. They both 
 felt that nobody could be anybody who did not spend 
 at least three months of the year within the limits of 
 Belgravia or Mayfair. However, this conviction was 
 destined to be rudely shaken. 
 
 Mrs. Trevor, as she made somewhat laboured con- 
 versation with her son and host, raised her lorgnettes 
 more than once to fix a direct and scrutinizing glance 
 on her new daughter-in-law, and before dinner was 
 over she was forced to admit that, so far as she could 
 see, Eleanor as hostess left very little to be desired. 
 
 She had come prepared to cavil, but so far had 
 found nothing to cavil at, and was consequently feel- 
 ing a little disappointed. She had been met at the sta- 
 tion by a comfortable carriage, she had been received 
 with due ceremony, as became her importance, her 
 room was well arranged, and now she was enjoying, 
 yes ! positively enjoying, an excellent dinner. If her 
 host's conversation was a little uninteresting, well ! 
 after all, he was her own son, and the woman was 
 handsome ! positively handsome ! 
 
 Old Miss Price would have rubbed her hands to- 
 gether, as was her wont when pleased, if she had 
 been there to see, and indeed, the friends of Eleanor's
 
 88 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 early womanhood would hardly have recognized her 
 this evening. She was dressed in a simple, well-made 
 gown of black velvet, relieved with a berthe of old 
 lace which had belonged to her mother. She wore 
 no jewels, but her neck and shoulders were beauti- 
 fully moulded, and her dress accentuated their ivory 
 whiteness. Her hair was no longer drawn tightly 
 back from her forehead, but arranged in a heavy 
 coil like a diadem on the top of her head, by the 
 hands of her maid, a young woman, it would appear, 
 who thoroughly knew her business. 
 
 The quiet happiness of the months of her married 
 life had restored the colour to her cheeks and 
 smoothed the tired lines from her face. Her ex- 
 pression was gentle still, but far more animated than 
 before. Oh, yes ! Miss Price would have been quite 
 satisfied. 
 
 " I hear Willie Gould is broke. Is it true ? " asked 
 Bolding. 
 
 " Quite true," said Minnie, cheerfully. " Liabili- 
 ties four thousand, and assets one pound ! " 
 
 " Good fellow, Willie," said Vane-Talbert. " Plucky 
 chap, you know ! I met him in Piccadilly yesterday, 
 and said I was awfully sorry to hear he had had such 
 rotten luck. But he laughed, and said, 'My dear 
 chap, the only rotten luck about it is their finding 
 that sovereign ! If I'd found it, I shouldn't have 
 gone.' "
 
 FRESH FIELDS AND PASTURES NEW 89 
 
 " Courage worthy of a better cause," said Bolding. 
 " Where is he now ? " 
 
 " Oh ! he's still in his rooms in Jermyn Street. 
 Wish I could get hold of that valet of his. An in- 
 valuable chap; gets no wages, and goes out waiting 
 when times are bad, so I've always heard. One thing 
 you may be certain of is that Willie will come up 
 smiling." 
 
 " He will come into some money by and by," said 
 Minnie. " He's got an old aunt who sends him tracts 
 and a knitted waistcoat at Christmas." 
 
 "Wish I'd got an old aunt. I'd wind wool, or 
 push a bath-chair for any old lady who'd assure my 
 future." 
 
 " Don't you worry, Toby," laughed Minnie. " You 
 can take to giving Bridge lessons at <5 an afternoon. 
 Lilly Carey has got a man to teach her. She says 
 he's too lovely, and that his conversation is cheap at 
 the price." 
 
 " I don't fancy his job," he said lightly. " Half an 
 hour of Lilly Carey is as much as I can do with." 
 
 " Why not turn chauffeur," said Mildred. " It's 
 ripping work, I believe, and very good pay." 
 
 " Topping ! I'll ply for hire when I get my new 
 car. It ought to be a flier." 
 
 " A new motor sounds a long way from bankruptcy, 
 Mr. Vane-Talbert," said Eleanor, smiling. 
 
 " On the contrary, Lady Trevor," he replied quickly.
 
 90 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 " the one leads to the other, and they are intimately 
 connected. The other day some one asked what had 
 been the most fashionable things this year, and was 
 told, Motors and Mortgages. Every one has one or 
 the other, and some people both." 
 
 " I wish yours would come, Toby," said Minnie. 
 " I want you to teach me how to drive it." 
 
 " You wouldn't like it," he returned. "You mustn't 
 talk when you're learning to drive. Look at Lord 
 Cawston. Took his best girl for a drive the other day, 
 and took her clean into the river, down by Datchett. 
 She hasn't spoken to him since." 
 
 "How pleased Lady Cawston must have been," 
 laughed Minnie. 
 
 " She was ! She said she would never prevent his 
 taking any of his charmers out again." 
 
 "Have you got the Bridge fever, Lady Trevor?" 
 continued Yane-Talbert. 
 
 " Well," she said, " I don't play Bridge, if that is 
 what you mean, but I should not think there would 
 be any difficulty in learning, for I have played Whist 
 all my life, and very strict Whist, too." 
 
 " You'll have to learn," said Minnie. " You have 
 to play now if you want to go anywhere at all. If 
 you can't play, you're out of it." 
 
 " Yes," said Vane-Taibert, " and if you can play, 
 play well, I mean, it doesn't matter who you are, you 
 get asked everywhere. I met a most weird lady at
 
 FEESH FIELDS AND PASTUEES NEW 91 
 
 Mrs. Tommy Deacon's the other day, the sort of old 
 thing Mrs. Tommy wouldn't have looked at a year ago. 
 And when I asked who she was, I was told in an awed 
 whisper that she was the best Bridge player in London, 
 and that people were wild to get her. Mrs. Tommy 
 seemed very cock-a-hoop at having caught her." 
 
 " In fact, the Bridge that spans the social gulf," 
 said Bolding. 
 
 " And takes you over the river of boredom," added 
 Minnie. " Think of those awful hours one used to 
 spend after dinner in country houses, the men half 
 asleep and wholly dull, and the women snappy. 
 Now you play Bridge, and every one is pleased." 
 
 " Except those who don't play," suggested Eleanor. 
 
 " Oh! we all play," said Minnie, lightly. " I went 
 down to stay at Oversham for the hunt ball, and 
 after tea some one suggested Bridge, so we made up 
 five tables, and started. The next thing was, that 
 the butler came in to ask if we would like supper. 
 It was eleven o'clock, and too late for the ball. We 
 had supper, and played until 3.30." 
 
 " I should have been asleep," said Eleanor. 
 
 " I should have been too hungry to sleep," laughed 
 Mildred. " I should have been screaming for a mut- 
 ton chop." 
 
 When the ladies reached the drawing-room, Mrs. 
 Trevor turned to her daughter-in-law, and said, 
 abruptly :
 
 92 TKEVOR LOKDSHIP 
 
 " Where are the diamonds ? " 
 
 " Diamonds ! " said Eleanor, rather taken aback. 
 
 "Yes, where are the diamonds?" demanded the 
 old lady again. 
 
 Eleanor felt as if she ought to put her hand in her 
 pocket, and produce them. There was a stand-and- 
 deliver air about the enquiry which was quite dis- 
 concerting. 
 
 " You haven't got any on. Where are they ? " 
 
 " I don't possess any," said Eleanor, " or I should 
 certainly wear them." 
 
 " Yes, but the family diamonds ! My sister-in-law 
 had plenty ; they must have been left to Henry." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Eleanor, "I see. No, I have never 
 heard of them." 
 
 " Aunt Elizabeth had some very fair jewels," said 
 Minnie, who was standing in front of the fire, stir- 
 ring her coffee, while Mildred was crouched on the 
 rug, balancing grams of sugar on Alphonse Daudet's 
 nose. " The last time I saw her was at a crush in 
 London, and she was encased in maroon velvet, posi- 
 tively blistered with diamonds. Poor dear, she was 
 huge, and looked like a large plum jelly, half melted. 
 Do you remember, Mamma ? " 
 
 " Yes ! She was stout, but she had very fine 
 diamonds." Mrs. Trevor spoke almost regretfully. 
 The diamonds were evidently on her mind.
 
 FKESH FIELDS AND PASTURES NEW 98 
 
 "She had a huge star," continued Minnie, "and 
 wore it perched on the apex of her lower chest ! 
 The effect was certainly startling. No joke intended," 
 she added, as a little chuckle came from Mildred. 
 " But seriously, Eleanor, where are the jewels ? " 
 
 " You must ask Henry," Eleanor said, smiling. 
 
 " What a funny woman you are ! I shouldn't 
 have slept a night in this house before they were 
 safely under my pillow. I adore diamonds ! Eleanor," 
 she added suddenly, "why don't you cut Henry's 
 hair?" 
 
 Eleanor was beginning to feel as if she was playing 
 at a game of surprise questions. 
 
 " Does it want cutting ? " she asked. 
 
 " Want cutting ! " ejaculated Minnie, with her 
 high laugh. " He looks like an organ-grinder. Do 
 you know," she paused, reflectively, "I almost 
 think that if you broke Henry's spectacles and cut his 
 hair, he might be quite good-looking. Why don't 
 you?" 
 
 " I don't think I should like to suggest it." 
 
 "Oh! I will," said Minnie, cheerfully. "You 
 leave it to me." 
 
 "Oh! don't," said Eleanor, quickly. "I am sure 
 he wouldn't like it." 
 
 She was rather embarrassed at this calm discussion 
 of her husband's personal appearance.
 
 94 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 " I shall ask him about the diamonds," announced 
 Mrs. Trevor. 
 
 It might have been supposed that she had a personal 
 interest in the matter, in fact, Eleanor rather wondered 
 if her husband ought not to offer some of them to his 
 relations. 
 
 But Sir Henry apparently had his own ideas on 
 the subject. He seemed surprised at the question 
 which his mother hurled at him the moment he 
 entered the room, but he answered without hesitation. 
 
 "Diamonds yes, certainly. They are in the 
 strong room, two jewel cases, and a box which 
 the lawyer said contained lace." 
 
 "Fetch them," said his mother. "I should like 
 to see them." 
 
 " They are quite safe," he replied. Then he turned 
 to his wife. " I am sorry to have been so remiss, 
 Eleanor," he said. " They of course belong to you. 
 You shall have them to-morrow." 
 
 " Oh ! don't you think they are much safer locked 
 away ? " Eleanor returned. 
 
 "You must have them," he answered. "You can 
 lock them away later if you like, but they are yours. 
 I am only sorry that I required reminding." 
 
 He spoke courteously, but quite firmly, and made 
 it evident that the matter was no concern of either 
 Mrs. Trevor's or Minnie's, so their curiosity had per- 
 force to remain unsatisfied.
 
 FKESH FIELDS AND PASTURES NEW 95 
 
 " I see you have a Browning here, Lady Trevor," 
 said Captain Maitland, presently. "Are you going 
 to join the Browning Society ? " 
 
 " No," said Eleanor ; " I really don't think I can. 
 Mrs. Stephens asked me, but I don't think I feel 
 equal to it." 
 
 "It is not the first attempt at a literary society 
 which Mrs. Stephens has started," said the Captain, 
 with a twinkle in his eyes. "They die an early 
 death." 
 
 "Can you honestly understand Browning, Lady 
 Trevor ? " asked Roger Bolding, taking up the book. 
 " I must confess it does seem rot to me. Just look 
 here," and he read : 
 
 " ' It was roses, roses all the way, 
 
 With myrtle mixed in my path like mad, 
 The house roofs seemed to twist and sway, 
 The church spires flamed, such flags they had 
 A year ago to-day.' " 
 
 "Sounds like recollections of a night out," said 
 Vane-Talbert. 
 
 " He must have been very drunk," murmured 
 Minnie, sweetly. 
 
 " Blind ! " said Vane-Talbert, laconically, as he 
 crossed the room to speak to Mildred. Captain 
 Maitland was talking to Sir Henry, and Roger 
 Bolding and Eleanor were still standing by the
 
 96 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 table, he with Browning in his hand, and a whim- 
 sical expression on his face. 
 
 " Now, without chaff, I am not a scoffer, Lady 
 Trevor, but is there really a single verse in this 
 book comprehendible by the average male intelli- 
 gence ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " said Eleanor, with a smile, she liked 
 Roger Bolding, " there are some beautiful bits, 
 quite simple and straightforward. My favourite 
 lines of all are Browning's." 
 
 "What are they?" 
 
 He was standing in front of her, a tall and virile 
 figure, with the frank expression in his eyes that 
 made him so attractive. And Eleanor repeated 
 them. 
 
 " One who never turned his back, but marched breast forward, 
 
 Never doubted clouds would break. 
 
 Never dreamed tho' right were worsted, wrong would triumph ; 
 Held, we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, 
 Sleep to wake." 
 
 Her colour rose a little as she recited the lines, 
 for she was not accustomed to revealing her inmost 
 thoughts, but she never faltered, her gentle voice 
 giving due force to the words, and her grey eyes 
 holding his, or held by his, until the end. 
 
 " Ah ! " he said. Then he took a sheet of paper 
 from the table. " Will you write it down ? " 
 
 "Yes. I am glad you like them," she said simply.
 
 97 
 
 He did not answer as he took the paper from her, 
 folded it, and put it in his pocket. Then Minnie's 
 voice broke in. 
 
 " Mr. Bolding ! Come and make a fourth. Henry 
 says he doesn't play, but Mildred will. We must 
 have a game."
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 A CONVERSATION AND A MEETING 
 
 " Thought once awakened does not again slumber." 
 
 CAELTLB. 
 
 " SHE'S a ridic'lus thing, and I hate her ! " said 
 Joan, vehemently. 
 
 The shooters had returned from a good morning's 
 sport, and were assembled in the hall waiting for 
 the announcement of luncheon, when the front door 
 was flung violently open, and the child burst in. 
 Her face matched her scarlet cap in colour, her 
 mane of hair streamed behind her, while Alphonse 
 Daudet tore round her like a small whirlwind, giving 
 vent to his sympathy in short, excited barks. 
 
 "Whatever is the matter?" cried Eleanor and 
 Mildred, together. 
 
 " Hullo ! Hullo ! Hullo ! " said Bolding, who do 
 you want shot? I'm here." 
 
 Joan threw down her school books, and burst into 
 a torrent of explanation. 
 
 " I know what i horse ' is, and I know I'm quite 
 right 'tisn't as if I didn't know French and it 
 wasn't Daudet's fault if the chicken stuck in the 
 wire, and pulled his stupid tail out." 
 
 98
 
 A CONVEBSATION AND A MEETING 99 
 
 " His tail seems all right," said Vane-Talbert, 
 consolingly. "It wags much, as usual." 
 
 "It wasn't his tail, it was the chicken's that 
 came out," sobbed Joan. " And Mrs. Rector says 
 he mustn't never come to school with me any more, 
 and as for that stupid Ma'mselle, I hate her. She 
 don't know her own language." 
 
 " Suppose you try and tell us what really hap- 
 pened," said Eleanor, drawing the child on to her 
 knee, while Mildred wiped the tears from the flushed 
 little face. 
 
 " Where has she been ? " asked Mrs. Trevor. 
 "She is terribly excited. She ought to be taught 
 self-control." 
 
 "She goes to lessons with the Rectory children," 
 explained Eleanor, "and has been so happy up to now. 
 What has Alphonse Daudet got to do with 'horse,' 
 and what is all this about the chicken's tail ? " 
 
 Joan grew calmer by slow degrees, and presently 
 an explanation was forthcoming. 
 
 " Well, you know we had French translation, and 
 it was about 'horse,' and I wrote it quite neatly, 
 there wasn't no blots, and when that Ma'mselle 
 saw it, she just screamed with laughing, and 
 wouldn't say why ! Then we looked out of the 
 window, and there was Phonso talking to a chicken ; 
 he was only quite polite, but the fool thing squawked, 
 and ran, and then of course he ran too, and Mr. and
 
 100 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 Mrs. Rector was running after him, and then the 
 fool chicken put its head through the wire netting, 
 and when Mr. Rector came, somehow his tail was 
 in poor Phonso's mouth. And they said he mustn't 
 never come no more ! " Tears were perilously near 
 again. " And he is so polite to chickens ! " 
 
 " Never mind," said Mildred, soothingly ; " I'll take 
 him for his walk in the mornings." 
 
 " When that was over," continued Joan, " I was 
 feeling most upset, and that grinning Ma'mselle 
 was giggling so I could have shied a book at her, 
 so I just scrambled my things together, and ran 
 home. All she would say was, ' Ah ! Mon Dieu ! 
 Cheval! quel enfant!'" 
 
 " Have you got the book here ? " asked Eleanor. 
 " Let us see what you wrote." 
 
 It was produced, and there in Joan's round and 
 laborious writing was the mystic sentence : 
 
 " Je suis si cheval que je ne puis pas hirondelle." 
 
 Mildred read it aloud, and there was a shout of 
 laughter from every one. 
 
 " Oh ! don't laugh at her," said Eleanor, quickly. 
 " Don't you see, Joan, that - 
 
 " Oh ! I don't mind your laughing," interrupted 
 Joan, with dignity. " My friends may laugh at 
 me, but not that horrid Ma'mselle." 
 
 "But this is hoarse, sore-throat hoarse, dear child, 
 not the four-legged horse."
 
 A CONVEKSATION AND A MEETING 101 
 
 " Sounds just the same," returned Joan, obstinately. 
 
 " I quite agree with you! " said Bolding. " Horse 
 is horse." 
 
 " That's just what Lavender said." 
 
 " What did Lavender say ? " 
 
 " She said that to her mind horse was horse, call 
 it what you liked. She said it was the same with an 
 ass. 'Some calls it donkey, and some calls it moke, 
 but it weren't no more than a ass'!" said Joan, 
 dropping into the vernacular. " She said if she were 
 me, she wouldn't go for to worry myself about a 
 thing what would blow over. A horse can't blow 
 over, and I know it's chevdl, 'cause Jim says he is 
 going to mount a cheval, when he is going riding. 
 But Lavender gave me this." 
 
 She held out her hand, in the palrn of which lay a 
 large striped bull's eye. It looked very sticky, for 
 fragments were adhering to it, and here and there 
 could be plainly seen the prints of Joan's firm white 
 teeth. 
 
 " Ah ! " said Sir Henry, " sweet consolation ! I 
 agree with Lavender, I shouldn't worry about it any 
 more. Come in to luncheon." 
 
 " It reminds me of being swished at my private 
 school for translating i Hors de combat ' as war-horse," 
 said Roger Bolding. " The authorities refused to 
 believe it was innocence and not guile." 
 
 " I will go down this afternoon," said Eleanor,
 
 102 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 " and investigate the damage done by Alphonse 
 Daudet's conversation with the chicken, and soothe 
 the ruffled feelings of Mademoiselle at the same 
 time." 
 
 After luncheon Joan was allowed to go out with 
 the shooters, to her great delight, and she started off 
 holding Sir Henry's hand, and chattering as gaily as 
 if the morning's storm had never raged, and horses 
 and chickens had no place in her small world. 
 Minnie and Mildred followed with the rest of the 
 guns, and Eleanor was left to entertain her mother- 
 in-law. 
 
 Mrs. Trevor seated herself by the drawing-room 
 fire, and, after a prolonged search for such things as 
 spectacles, knitting, and footstool, announced that 
 there were several things she did not understand. 
 
 She generally began her sentences with " I do not 
 understand," in a tone which suggested that the 
 implied ignorance on her part was entirely due to the 
 want of frankness on other people's. She then ran 
 through various subjects on which she required en- 
 light ment. The presence of Mildred and Joan at 
 * Trevor Lordship ' was one, and Eleanor gave her a full 
 and particular account of the events which had led 
 to their coming. It was punctuated at intervals by 
 sniffs from the old lady. It is astonishing how much 
 meaning can be conveyed by a sniff, by any one who 
 is really an expert in this medium of expression.
 
 A CONVERSATION AND A MEETING 103 
 
 Mrs. Trevor was a past master in the art, and had 
 command of a very varied selection, all distinct and 
 unmistakable. At first Eleanor found it embarrassing, 
 but after a while she learnt to distinguish, and be 
 prepared for the particular kind of sniff which the 
 subject demanded. 
 
 Minnie didn't like her remarks greeted with this 
 form of comment, and had no hesitation in saying so, 
 and Mrs. Trevor took great pains not to indulge in 
 the habit when her daughter was present, but on this 
 occasion there was nothing to prevent her expressing 
 herself in any way she liked, so she took every ad- 
 vantage of it. The subject of the girls was punc- 
 tuated with sniff scornful. 
 
 The next topic was Minnie herself, and Eleanor 
 was treated to the usual highly moral remarks. 
 " Dear Minnie will do what is right, of course a 
 wife's place is with her husband but the wrench of 
 parting will be terrible " accompanied by a running 
 obligate of sniffs of the righteous and sympathetic 
 order. Eleanor hadn't heard it before, she didn't 
 know Mrs. Trevor well enough, so she listened with 
 great respect, and was duly impressed. 
 
 The old lady really enjoyed being able to let her- 
 self go, and enlarged on her favourite theme 
 Minnie's beauty Minnie's popularity Minnie's 
 wonderful cleverness until even she felt she had 
 said all there was to say. It was a real treat to her
 
 104 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 to be listened to, not only with attention, but with 
 interest, and Eleanor really was interested. 
 
 Then Mrs. Trevor switched the stream of her elo- 
 quence on to another line. 
 
 " I do not understand," she said majestically, 
 " what you and Henry intend to do." 
 
 "In what way?" enquired Eleanor, politely. 
 
 " Well, are you coming to London in the spring, 
 or not? He told me last night that at present he 
 had no intention of doing so, but I do not understand 
 your being willing to bury yourselves in the country." 
 
 " I love this place, and Henry is so interested in 
 his library and his writing, that I am sure he would 
 not care for a London season." 
 
 " Now, that is another thing I wish to speak to you 
 about," said her mother-in-law, firmly. " It undoubt- 
 edly is your duty to take your proper position, and 
 to see that Henry takes his. I can quite understand 
 why you married him, and consider that you were 
 quite wise. This house, and six thousand pounds a 
 year, made him a very good parti." 
 
 "Mrs. Trevor ! " said Eleanor, indignantly. "How 
 can you say such a thing ? We had been engaged for 
 years! " 
 
 " Oh ! I know there was some silly understanding 
 many years ago ; but of course you would never have 
 married if he had not come into this. I am not 
 blaming you ! far from it ! I think you acted very
 
 A CONVERSATION AND A MEETING 105 
 
 rightly ; every woman who isn't a fool does the best 
 she can for herself ; but you need not pretend to me 
 for a moment that you and Henry are in love with 
 each other, because that is, of course, absurd. You 
 have only got to look at Henry ! Although he is my 
 own son, I cannot imagine any woman in love with 
 him. Oh, dear, no ! and a calm respect wears 
 much better." 
 
 Eleanor did not speak, she felt that her only safety 
 lay in silence, and Mrs. Trevor continued speaking, 
 apparently quite unaware of the emotions she was 
 arousing in the mind of her listener. 
 
 " And now that you are his wife, it is your duty 
 to take your proper position in the County, and to see 
 that Henry takes his. Of course, reading and writ- 
 ing are well enough in their way, most useful, I am 
 sure, but you must see that Henry is reasonable. It 
 would be terrible if he got the name of being a re- 
 cluse or eccentric. He was always apt to be in the 
 clouds ; we used to call him Johnny Head-in- Air when 
 he was a child. But now that he has this house and 
 property," Mrs. Trevor waved her hand in a move- 
 ment which apparently included heaven and earth, 
 "he really must take his position." Sniff deter- 
 mined ! 
 
 " I am sure he will do what he thinks right," said 
 Eleanor, rather stiffly. She hardly liked to get up 
 and put an abrupt end to the conversation, as her 
 inclination prompted her to do.
 
 106 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 "He ought to go in for County things, Magistrates' 
 benches, and Committees, and that kind of thing. 
 And I do hope you will be careful to know the right 
 people. Now there is Lady Yarfield, she would be 
 most helpful. Have you met her ? " 
 
 " Yes, she called a few days ago." 
 
 Eleanor was feeling too crushed by Mrs. Trevor's 
 late remarks to recount the story of the visit which 
 had afforded her and Mildred immense amusement at 
 the time. The truth being, that the lady in ques- 
 tion had whirled up in a motor, and rushed into the 
 house for exactly ten minutes by the clock ; during 
 which time she had poured out a plaintive history 
 about the loss of her favourite dog, and a picture 
 which she had just had painted of him. She had re- 
 marked pathetically, " I assure you, dear Lady Trevor, 
 it is so life-like, that when I go into the room I can 
 smell him ! I can indeed ! " She had not given 
 Eleanor the impression of being a helpful person, 
 under any circumstances. 
 
 "Who else has called?" 
 
 Eleanor mentioned some names, and fortunately 
 there happened to be one or two ladies of title among 
 them, so Mrs. Trevor seemed satisfied that they were 
 the right people. 
 
 " I do not understand why he wears spectacles," 
 was the next question. 
 
 " He hurt his eyes some time ago, and has worn
 
 A CONVEBSATION AKD A MEETING 107 
 
 them ever since ; but I think he ought to see a good 
 oculist now that he has come home." 
 
 " I shall insist upon his doing so. I do trust you 
 will make him look more like other people ! As 
 Minnie said the other night, his hair is too long. I 
 should be greatly disturbed if he was thought odd in 
 any way ! " 
 
 Eleanor laughed, she really couldn't help it. 
 
 " I don't think you need be afraid." 
 
 "He looks so much too old. He looks sixty!" 
 Mrs. Trevor was becoming quite depressed. " I 
 married at twenty, and he was born the next year. 
 He had nice fat legs, and was no trouble to feed. I 
 do not understand why Minnie has no child ! I don't 
 think she feels it as much as I do, for nowadays 
 women don't seem to be interested in a nursery, and 
 certainly it might spoil her figure." 
 
 The old voice rippled on, and gradually grew fainter 
 and fainter, the sniffs became snores, and presently 
 Mrs. Trevor was sound asleep. Eleanor rose, quickly 
 and noiselessly, and fled from the room. A few 
 minutes later she was walking briskly down the 
 avenue. 
 
 A heavy gale the night before had stripped the 
 last leaves from the lime-trees, and strewn thickly on 
 the road, where they crackled under foot in the frosty 
 air, and the last rays of the setting sun touched the 
 fronds of the dead bracken with tips of scarlet and
 
 108 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 gold and orange. Now and then the startled call of 
 a pheasant, or the distant report of a gun, rang out 
 upon the keen, still air, but otherwise there was no 
 sound. 
 
 All the little inhabitants of the park, feathered and 
 furred, were crouched in hidden security, frightened 
 into safe retreat by the invasion of shooters and 
 beaters earlier in the day. Did they wonder what 
 fever seized the horrid race of mankind, that after 
 endless months of peace and quiet, they should sud- 
 denly descend upon the sylvan solitudes, disturb the 
 silence with their shouts and laughter, and then pass 
 on, leaving death and havoc in their trail; empty 
 burrows and forsaken forms to mark their onslaught. 
 Or does the instinct which prompts concealment also 
 teach that death is to be expected should concealment 
 not be sufficiently complete ? Is " the survival of the 
 fittest" accepted as a natural law among the denizens 
 of the " game " world ? Does Mrs. Rabbit say calmly, 
 on noticing her offspring's vacant place, " He should 
 have taken better care of himself. I have managed 
 to survive five seasons ! " or does she silently console 
 herself with the thought that there will be all the 
 more room for her next family ? The question of 
 overcrowding must be acute in Bunnyland ! 
 
 The fresh air and exercise were gradually cooling 
 Eleanor's indignation, and presently she gave a little 
 laugh as she recalled the gist of her mother-in-law's
 
 remarks. Mrs. Trevor was a privileged person, and 
 must evidently not be taken too seriously, but even 
 so, Eleanor felt that she had food for thought. 
 
 In truth, she had done a good deal of hard think- 
 ing lately, ever since the night on which her husband 
 had spoken of his years of absence. She had been 
 indulging in a course of introspection, a thing which 
 was new to her, and which, it must be confessed, she 
 found quite painfully absorbing. She was anxiously 
 searching for the thing she had missed, for she knew 
 she had missed something, but what it was she had 
 been unable to discover. Over and over again she 
 asked herself the same questions. Why had she 
 never more than touched the outer fringe of the lives 
 of those around her ? Why had she allowed her sen- 
 sibilities to become blunted by a mass of trifling duties 
 and worries, which it seemed to her now could never 
 have been of any real importance ? Why had she 
 lost in such a measure the power of enjoyment, which 
 was now, happily, returning to her by leaps and 
 bounds ? 
 
 She told herself angrily that she must have been 
 hardly alive ! The broader issues of life had held no 
 meaning for her. What was the reason ? Was it 
 something she had lost, or something she had never 
 possessed ? There was Mildred enjoying every mo- 
 ment of her life, keenly interested in everything and 
 every one, from the scullery maid's young man to the
 
 110 TREVOK LORDSHIP 
 
 lame dog at the farm, appreciative of every form of 
 beauty, of every note of music, every shade of colour 
 in the autumn woods and fields. Why ! looking back, 
 she herself could hardly remember anything that had 
 happened five years before ! some more important 
 events she could recall, but none of the little details, 
 such as Mildred poured out to her for hours at a time. 
 It seemed almost as if her mind had been a smooth, 
 hard surface, which the passing hour had had no acid 
 to engrave with the hundred little lines and dots that 
 make a picture at the last. What was the power that 
 made heart and mind receptive to Life's influence? 
 
 Mrs. Trevor's calm statement as to her motives in 
 marrying had been abominable ! wicked ! but it 
 was so ridiculous and so untrue that she felt she 
 must laugh at it. It really was not worth worrying 
 about. Why did people always talk about being in 
 love ? she wondered. Her ideas of being in love were 
 not very clear, she had not read a great many novels, 
 but at the back of her mind was a feeling that it was 
 something to be deprecated, something slightly im- 
 modest, if the truth must be told. It was a condi- 
 tion that made people do very foolish and unsuitable 
 things, and seemed to blind the judgment of the 
 wisest. 
 
 But she was very, very fond of Henry ; her life with 
 him was something pleasanter than she had ever im- 
 agined ; she had everything she wanted. They had so
 
 far had no disagreement whatever, and she felt no 
 doubt that he was equally contented. He was very 
 easily contented ! She could almost have wished that 
 he made more demands upon her time and attention, 
 there seemed so little that she could do for him. 
 
 He had come in from shooting in a most happy 
 humour, laughing and talking far more than was 
 usual with him, full of the enjoyment of the day, 
 and boasting with evident pleasure that his hand had 
 not lost its cunning after all these years. He had 
 spoken more than once of his plans for improving 
 the shooting next year, and had discussed details 
 with Roger Bolding and Captain Maitland in the 
 keenest way. 
 
 Mrs. Trevor was really rather a silly old thing ! 
 Of course Henry would do his share of the duties his 
 ownership of the property entailed. Why should she 
 suppose that because a man was literary, he should 
 take no interest in the world outside ? However, she 
 had always heard that every one had to put up with 
 something from their mother-in-law, and Mrs. Trevor 
 was quite kind, and Minnie delightfully entertaining. 
 
 On her return homeward, she made a detour through 
 a small coppice which lay on the outside of the park ; 
 she had often walked there before, and as the sports- 
 men had been through it in the morning, she knew 
 it would be deserted now. The great beech-trees, 
 stripped now of their burden of golden leaves, were
 
 112 TKEVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 standing gaunt and ghostly in the nebulous atmos- 
 phere, as if waiting until the hand of Spring should 
 restore them to life again. The wind had died down, 
 and hardly a rustle broke the stillness; only once a 
 frightened rabbit scudded across the path, as if ten 
 thousand horrors raced at his heels, and dived into 
 his hole at the foot of a great tree. 
 
 The path took a sharp twist, and as Eleanor turned 
 the corner she saw, to her surprise, two figures walk- 
 ing towards her. The meeting was so unexpected in 
 the solitude of the wood, that for a moment she stood 
 still in surprise. Then, walking forward, she saw 
 that they were two women, one elderly, and the 
 other much younger, who leant on her companion, 
 and seemed greatly fatigued. Eleanor suddenly re- 
 membered Captain Maitland's jest about the house of 
 mystery, that house which lay shrouded in trees only 
 about two hundred yards away, and felt sure that 
 the elder of the two must be the Mrs. Mollison of 
 whom he had spoken. She remembered also what she 
 had heard about the disinclination of the inhabitants 
 to see strangers, and was intending to walk rapidly 
 past them, when she heard the younger woman say : 
 
 " I can't go any further, Nannie, I can't indeed ! 
 I am so dreadfully tired ! " 
 
 " Come, come, my lamb ! " was the reply, given 
 with a strong Scotch accent. " You'd not be the one 
 to give in. 'Tis only a wee while further."
 
 A CONVEKSATION AND A MEETING 113 
 
 At this moment, the girl, for she looked no more, 
 swayed heavily, and would have fallen, but Eleanor 
 stepped quickly to her, and said: 
 
 " You are very tired, I'm sure. Take my arm, 
 and you will find it easier to walk." 
 
 A red flush spread painfully over the white face, 
 and there was no reply, but Mrs. Mollison said civilly : 
 
 " Thank you, I think we can manage all right." 
 
 But Eleanor turned, still supporting the feeble 
 figure, and the three walked on together. 
 
 "You have come further than you intended, I 
 expect, but it is so lovely this afternoon, although now 
 the sun has gone down, it is much colder. I am Lady 
 Trevor, and I often come into this wood. It is so 
 beautiful, isn't it?" 
 
 She was talking at random, for she was most 
 anxious not to appear inquisitive. 
 
 "I fear we are trespassing, m' lady," said Mrs. 
 Mollison, " but I heard the shooters go through this 
 morning, and did not think we should meet any one 
 now." 
 
 " Oh, no; I am glad you enjoy walking here. It is 
 so nice and quiet." 
 
 In a few moments, Eleanor saw to her relief that 
 they were approaching the end of the path, and that 
 there was a small door in the boundary wall, for it was 
 evident that the invalid's steps were growing feebler, 
 and she leaned more heavily on the supporting arms.
 
 114 TREVOK LORDSHIP 
 
 Mrs. Mollison glanced at her once or twice, and 
 then looked at Eleanor with a meaning she quite 
 understood. She opened the door, and together they 
 half supported, half carried the girl up the garden 
 path and into the house. She motioned to a door on 
 the left of the hall, and they entered, and laid her on 
 a big sofa in front of a cheerful fire. 
 
 " I will go and get some wine, m' lady. I won't be 
 a moment." 
 
 Eleanor removed the girl's hat and gloves, and 
 chafed her hands, which were icy cold. The white 
 face on the cushion was deathly in its pallor, and 
 Eleanor felt greatly alarmed, for she was not without 
 experience in illness, and could see that she was very 
 ill indeed. 
 
 In a moment Mrs. Mollison came back, and pres- 
 ently the wine and the warmth restored a faint colour 
 to the pale cheeks of the girl. She opened her eyes, 
 and said, slowly : 
 
 " Thank you, you are very kind." 
 
 " You lie quietly a minute, dearie, and you'll be 
 better," said Mrs. Mollison, tenderly : and wearily the 
 blue eyes closed again. 
 
 Eleanor rose from her knees, for she had been 
 kneeling beside the couch, and followed the Scotch- 
 woman into the hall. 
 
 " She is very ill, I fear." 
 
 "Aye ! she is ill, m' lady. We do all we can "
 
 A CONVERSATION AND A MEETING 115 
 
 The tears stood in the poor woman's eyes, and her 
 voice faltered. 
 
 "I am quite sure you do," said Eleanor, kindly. 
 "Can I help you in any way ? I should be so glad to 
 be of some use." 
 
 Mrs. Mollison opened her lips as if about to speak, 
 then she evidently thought better of it, and was silent. 
 
 " Will you not let me help you ? " 
 
 Eleanor had a beautiful voice, very gentle and low, 
 and just now it was vibrant with sympathy. The 
 woman turned suddenly, and held out a rough, toil- 
 worn hand. 
 
 " M' lady," she said, quickly, " you'll forgive me, 
 'twas no mistrust. God knows she wants a friend 
 she has no friend but me that am but a rough woman, 
 though none could love her more. Your face is kind. 
 I have seen you once or twice, though you did not 
 see me, and I felt your heart is kind. But I must 
 tell you this if you will be a friend to her as needs 
 one sorely, you must ask no questions, and seek to 
 know nothing but what she tells you. And I'm 
 thinking that will no be much." 
 
 " I will ask no questions, and seek to know nothing," 
 repeated Eleanor, quietly ; " but I would like to be 
 a friend if you will let me. May I come again? " 
 
 " Aye ! Come, m' lady, though I'm no saying if 
 she'll see you." 
 
 " I will come and try. Meanwhile, won't you let
 
 116 TKEVOR LOKDSHIP 
 
 me know if there is anything you want. Wine or 
 fruit?" 
 
 " Thank you, m' lady," said the woman, rather 
 proudly. " We take care that she wants for nothing 
 of that." 
 
 " I will come again," said Eleanor. 
 
 As she retraced her steps along the woodland path, 
 her heart ached with pity for the girl she had just 
 left. She looked almost a child. What blow had 
 Fate dealt her, that she should wear that look of 
 grief ? 
 
 She was determined to keep the letter of her 
 promise; she would ask no questions, not seem to 
 wish to know anything, if only she might do some- 
 thing, however little, to lighten the look of anguish 
 in those sorrow-stricken eyes.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 NEW INTERESTS 
 
 "We sleep, but the loom of life never stops; and the pattern which 
 was weaving when the sun went down, is weaving when it comes up to- 
 morrow." HENRY WARD BEECHER. 
 
 " I HAVE had a very interesting letter from Phillips 
 this evening," said Sir Henry, after dinner. "He 
 quotes a certain Dr. Harper as a great authority on 
 the subject of our correspondence. I have heard of 
 him, of course. I wish there was a chance of my meet- 
 ing him." 
 
 " Do you mean Dr. Harper, the e Century ' man ? " 
 asked Minnie. 
 
 " Yes ; do you know him ? " 
 
 " I have seen him. A dried-up old fossil with a 
 moth-eaten beard. I have never spoken to him, 
 shouldn't know what to say to him if I did ! but a 
 friend of mine married his equally fossilized son. I 
 can introduce you to Mary Harper, if you like, and 
 she can pass you on to her papa-in-law." 
 
 " I should like it extremely," said Sir Henry, 
 quickly. "He is the man above all others I have 
 wished to meet." 
 
 " Mary Harper is rather blue, herself. We were at 
 
 117
 
 118 TEEVOE LORDSHIP 
 
 school together, and she was always top, and I was 
 always bottom ! She really is a little too clever for 
 everyday use, but I like her. Some people are like 
 that, aren't they ? You must treat them like dic- 
 tionaries, leave them on a shelf, and only take them 
 down when you want them. They're too heavy, and 
 get in the way when they're knocking about all the 
 time ! But I'll take Mary Harper off her shelf, and 
 ask her to dinner to meet you, with pleasure. I 
 suppose I must ask her fossil, too. When will you 
 come ? " 
 
 " I think any time will suit me. Eh ! Eleanor ? " 
 
 " Certainly," his wife replied quickly. " I don't 
 think there is anything to prevent your going at any 
 time." 
 
 " Well," said Minnie, " why not come back to Lon- 
 don with us? What do you say, Mamma? We can 
 put you up, and you can come and go as you like, 
 and stay as long as you like." 
 
 " Thank you very much. I will come with pleas- 
 ure." 
 
 " You don't mind being made love to, do you ? " 
 enquired Minnie, -suddenly. 
 
 " I beg your pardon ? " said Sir Henry, in sur- 
 prise. 
 
 " You see, Violet Green will be staying with me, 
 and she always makes love to any man she sees. She 
 might practise on you, just to keep her hand in."
 
 NEW INTERESTS 119 
 
 Minnie had a mischievous twinkle in her eye, and was 
 evidently enjoying her brother's look of discomfiture. 
 " What would you do, Henry," she continued, laugh- 
 ing, " if any one made love to you ? I'd take it on 
 myself if I wasn't your sister, just to see how you 
 took it." 
 
 " I should dislike it intensely under any circum- 
 stances," he answered firmly. 
 
 " Oh, no ! not if the woman was pretty enough," 
 retorted Minnie ; " but you needn't be too anxious. 
 Violet is quite weirdly ugly, so ugly as to be quite 
 attractive to some people. But you'll be bored with 
 her." 
 
 " I shall be out a good deal." 
 
 Sir Henry spoke in a tone of satisfaction which 
 made them all laugh. There was such obvious con- 
 solation in the thought. 
 
 " I shall cut his hair, and break his spectacles, and 
 send him back at the end of a fortnight quite tame," 
 whispered Minnie to Eleanor. 
 
 Eleanor laughed ; she was getting used to Minnie. 
 
 " I do think he ought to see an oculist, but I am 
 afraid he won't." 
 
 " Oh, yes, he will if I have to drag him there by 
 his hair, before it's cut ! Come and play Bridge." 
 
 Presently Sir Henry came up to Eleanor, who was 
 sitting by Mrs. Trevor, and said : 
 
 " I hope you don't mind my going to London, but
 
 120 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 it really is a great opportunity, and I hardly like to 
 miss it." 
 
 " Of course not ! I am delighted that you should go. 
 Mildred and Joan and I will amuse ourselves very 
 well. Do go, and stay just as long as you like. By 
 the way, do you think I could ask that young Lucas 
 to come here ? Joan is perpetually asking when her 
 1 Jim ' is coming, and I really think it would be a great 
 pleasure to both the girls to see him. I don't want 
 them to lose sight of their old friends." 
 
 " Ask him, by all means. He can have a day's 
 hunting on the black horse, and there are plenty of 
 rabbits, if he cares to shoot them. But I shall be 
 back in time to see him, I expect. I wonder " he 
 hesitated " if you would be so kind as to do some- 
 thing for me. I hardly like to trouble you, but the 
 fact is, that I have some copy which must be written 
 out again before I go, and it is rather more than I 
 can manage single-handed. Would you very much 
 mind " 
 
 " Of course not ! " said Eleanor, rising. " It would 
 be a great pleasure. Show me what you want 
 done." She glanced at Mrs. Trevor, who was reclin- 
 ing in an armchair, with a book still upright in her 
 hands, but her eyes closed. " She won't miss me; she 
 will doze until they have finished playing." 
 
 They entered the library, and Sir Henry produced 
 the papers and gave his instructions.
 
 NEW INTERESTS 121 
 
 "I am much relieved/' he said. " I could only trust 
 them to some one who would be careful and accurate." 
 
 Eleanor felt a little glow of pleasure. It was the 
 first time he had given her any share in his work. 
 
 For an hour they sat, each at a separate table, and 
 no further word was spoken, for Eleanor was glad to 
 find that her work was quite simple, and that she 
 had no need to ask questions, and Sir Henry was 
 absorbed in what he was doing. Then she rose. 
 
 " I must go now," she said ; " but it shall be fin- 
 ished in the morning." 
 
 She gathered up the papers. Sir Henry did not 
 move, his head was bowed, his pen was moving 
 rapidly, he was lost to everything except his occu- 
 pation. 
 
 " Good-night," she said softly, and left the room. 
 
 She was so anxious not to disturb him in any way, 
 in the hope that, should she prove to be an efficient 
 amanuensis, her services might be employed again. 
 How delightful it would be if he would allow her to 
 assist him in his work, how many interests they 
 might have in common ; what a deep interest would 
 be added to her life. It is to be doubted if Sir Henry 
 even noticed her departure, for he possessed a remark- 
 able power of concentration, and once his whole 
 attention was given to the work in hand, he had no 
 thought beyond it. 
 
 The game was just over when Eleanor entered the
 
 122 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 drawing-room, and Mrs. Trevor had awaked with a 
 start. 
 
 " Have you had a nice sleep, Mamma ? " enquired 
 Minnie. 
 
 " I have only been thinking," returned her mother. 
 " I shut my eyes because the light makes them ache. 
 I should not think of sleeping after dinner. It is a 
 bad habit, and ruins the digestion." 
 
 Mrs. Trevor was one of the many who would 
 sooner die than acknowledge to a nap, although the 
 process of thought seemed of necessity accompanied 
 by the low music of gentle snores. 
 
 " I must thank you for a very pleasant visit, Lady 
 Trevor," said Roger Bolding. " It has been delight- 
 ful. We have had some excellent sport. I think 
 your husband has enjoyed it, too." 
 
 " Yes, I am sure he has. At first, you know, he is 
 rather inclined to avoid anything that what he calls 
 ' wastes his time,' but I am sure it has done him a 
 great deal of good." 
 
 " He told me to-day, as we walked home, that he 
 hadn't enjoyed anything so much for years. He got 
 most awfully keen about it. I wish you had been 
 out." 
 
 " So do I. I must try and come out next time." 
 
 The guests had all departed with Sir Henry, when 
 Eleanor broached the subject of Jim Lucas's visit to
 
 NEW INTERESTS 123 
 
 the girls. Joan received it with wild screams of 
 delight, which so excited Alphonse Daudet that he 
 was seized with a fit of "mental abrasion," and the 
 child and the dog tore round and round the hall, 
 until Eleanor and Mildred begged for mercy. 
 
 "Jim is coming! Jim is coming!" cried Joan. 
 " May I go to the station to meet him, and drive all 
 myself ?" 
 
 " My dear, I haven't written to ask him yet. Per- 
 haps he won't come." 
 
 " Oh, yes, he'll come ! I know he will. He said 
 he'd come to Zululand to see me if I went there, only 
 he wouldn't promise to wear nothing but beads and 
 grease. He'll come ! I know he will. I do hope 
 he'll come before Mr. Roberts goes." 
 
 " Who is Mr. Roberts ? " 
 
 " Mr. Roberts is Dobbs's uncle. He's a great phil- 
 anthropist, and told all about me by the bumps on 
 my head." 
 
 " Phrenologist ! " whispered Mildred. Joan always 
 used the longest words, and hated to be corrected. 
 " Have you been sitting in the harness room with 
 Dobbs and the philanthropist?" 
 
 " Yes. He was most polite. He said I was fond 
 of music, and might be led, but wouldn't be driven. 
 Dobbs said that was like the garden donkey, which 
 wasn't very polite of Dobbs. But I know Jim would 
 get on very well with Mr. Roberts ; he plays the cornet."
 
 124 TREVOR LOKDSHIP 
 
 "Who, Jim ?" asked Eleanor. 
 
 "No, Mr. Roberts. He was in the ' Better Land' 
 when the bell rang, and I had to leave him. Aunt 
 Eleanor ! do let him tell your bumps ! " 
 
 " No, thank you ! " she returned, laughing. " I 
 would rather not." 
 
 " He really is a very interesting man. He told me 
 a great many things about myself that I didn't know 
 before. He has been in America, and fought with 
 the Indians. He is a doctor, too. Dobbs says there 
 is nothing he can't cure. He told me there wasn't 
 any reason why people shouldn't live till they were a 
 hundred and fifty, if they would do as he told them." 
 
 " How is he going to make them do that ? " 
 
 "Well, he didn't tell me exactly, there wasn't 
 time. But they had to drink some stuff he had got 
 in a bottle, and not worry. He said worry was what 
 made men food for worms." 
 
 " How very nasty ! " said Mildred. 
 
 " He isn't at all nasty," replied Joan, with dignity. 
 " He can speak seven tongues, and is most interesting. 
 I know Jim will love him. When are you going to 
 write to Jim ? " 
 
 " I will go and do it now," said Eleanor. 
 
 " Then I'll come and write too. Just to tell him 
 to come at once. I know he'll come." 
 
 Events proved that Joan was quite right, for Jim 
 replied that he would come with pleasure.
 
 NEW INTEKESTS 125 
 
 On the afternoon on which he was expected, the 
 girls drove to meet him, and Eleanor, being left to 
 her own devices, walked down to the village. 
 
 She had already paid one visit to the House of 
 Mystery, or, to give it its proper title, ' Rooks' Nest.' 
 Mrs. Mollison had received her a little stiffly, as if 
 she repented of her confidence, but Eleanor was de- 
 termined not to be put off by any coldness of manner, 
 and had been so pleasant and friendly, that finally 
 the woman had asked her to step inside. The in- 
 valid had been lying on the sofa, looking very frail, 
 but a little better than on the previous occasion. She 
 was very shy and silent, but did not seem averse to 
 Eleanor's company. The room was bare and sparsely 
 furnished, but a bright fire and a bunch of flowers 
 gave a touch of cheerfulness to the scene. A small 
 table beside the couch was strewn with books. 
 
 Eleanor had found it uphill work making conversa- 
 tion, and had finally resorted to reading aloud, which 
 the invalid had seemed to enjoy. She confessed to a 
 love of poetry ; in fact, nearly all the volumes in the 
 room were poetical works, a varied assortment from 
 Shakespeare to Swinburne and Keats to Kipling. She 
 had read for an hour, and had then taken her leave, 
 without having exchanged more than a few words with 
 the girl. 
 
 To-day, Eleanor had armed herself with Adam 
 Lindsay Gordon and a bunch of violets. Mrs. Molli- 
 son was much more genial.
 
 126 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 " She liked your visit, m' lady ; she seemed quite 
 bright afterwards," she said, as Eleanor entered. 
 
 The girl was lying in the same position as before, 
 but there was more animation and colour in the face 
 that turned to greet her visitor. She accepted the 
 violets shyly, and on hearing of the book that Eleanor 
 had brought, said she knew it, and asked her to read 
 " The Sick Stockrider." Eleanor did so, reading 
 slowly and quietly. 
 
 " I've had my share of pastime, and I've had my share of toil, 
 And life is short, the longest life a span, 
 I care not now to linger for the corn or for the oil 
 Or for wine that maketh glad the heart of man. 
 For deeds undone, or gifts mis-spent, or resolutions vain, 
 'Tis somewhat late to trouble. This I know, 
 I should live the same life over if I had to live agahi " 
 
 The girl on the sofa spoke suddenly, as if half to 
 herself. 
 
 " Ah ! That is it ! One would live the same life 
 over if one had to live again. It is too late to 
 trouble now, and whatever happens, we have lived." 
 
 Eleanor was struck by the passionate tone in 
 which she spoke. 
 
 " The question is, ought one to regret ? " continued 
 the girl, wistfully. " I can't regret." 
 
 " Why should you ? " said Eleanor, stoutly. 
 
 She was absolutely ignorant of the past, but one 
 thing was certain, you had only to look into the
 
 NEW INTERESTS 127 
 
 great blue eyes, to know that whatever that past had 
 been, it had held no shame. Sorrow, yes, in full 
 measure, but shame, no. 
 
 "And some day," the girl went on dreamily, 
 "everything will be put right; I don't know how, 
 because it seems impossible to put some things 
 right." 
 
 "Perhaps," suggested Eleanor, "we shall be al- 
 tered ourselves, and shall not want the same things. 
 Our idea of happiness may be different. Who can 
 tell ? But everything will be put right." 
 
 " Yes ! I believe that. What should I do if I 
 didn't believe that ? But there is so much that one 
 does not understand." 
 
 " It is not wise to seek to understand too much." 
 
 " Ah ! but we are not all wise ! " was the quick re- 
 ply, and a faint smile crossed the white face. " And 
 we have to pay the price whether we are wise or 
 foolish. Arid some of us are bankrupt ! We pay all 
 we possess, and that is not enough." 
 
 " It must be enough, since we can pay no more." 
 
 There was no reply, and after a while Eleanor con- 
 tinued reading. When she had finished, there was a 
 long silence, and she glanced at the occupant of the 
 sofa, thinking that perhaps she had fallen asleep. 
 But no, the blue eyes were wide open, and one hand 
 was idly pushing a ring up and down her finger. It 
 was a wedding ring. Eleanor had noticed it on the
 
 128 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 first day, and had noticed, too, how much too loose it 
 was for the thin hand. She had thought of her new 
 acquaintance as a girl, but she wore the badge of wom- 
 anhood. Of what tragedy was it the outward sign ? 
 
 " The past seems very long ago when the future is 
 so short," her thoughts seemed to be uttered un- 
 consciously. 
 
 " Don't say that/' said Eleanor, quickly. " The fu- 
 ture may have brightness in store for you. Do not 
 trouble about it." 
 
 " I do not trouble, but I know and I am glad. 
 It is very peaceful here. I have no trouble now. 
 The sun set for me a very long time ago, and now 
 the last rays are gently fading over the hills. Those 
 hills that were such weary work to climb." 
 
 " The dawn will be bright," said Eleanor, gently. 
 
 It seemed useless to urge the hope of living on one 
 whose journey was so clearly nearly over. If she 
 knew it herself, there was no need of pretence ; that 
 pitiful pretence which watchers by a sick bed keep 
 up with breaking heart, while all the time it deceives 
 no one ! The approach of death brings very clear 
 vision, as a rule. 
 
 "Will you call me Constance?" the girl said sud- 
 denly. " It is my name, although I have not heard it 
 for a long time. You are so kind. I have always 
 been afraid to meet people, but perhaps I was wrong. 
 There was no reason why I should have been afraid ! "
 
 NEW INTERESTS 129 
 
 " I am proud to be your friend/' said Eleanor. 
 
 Just then Mrs. Mollison came in, and Eleanor rose 
 to go. 
 
 "You will come again soon?" said Constance, wist- 
 fully. 
 
 " I will come again very soon," she replied, as she 
 stooped and kissed her. 
 
 In the hall she turned to Mrs. Mollison, and said : 
 
 "Forgive me, but has a doctor seen her? Can 
 nothing be done ? " 
 
 " Her own doctor, that has known her from a child, 
 comes from London once a month, m' lady, and will 
 come oftener if we send for him. But there is noth- 
 ing to be done. And what is there to keep her ? " 
 added the woman, fiercely. "What is her life now?" 
 
 She closed her lips with a snap, as if fearful that 
 she might say more than she intended. Then she 
 opened the door, and Eleanor passed through without 
 a word. 
 
 After this, it became Eleanor's habit to go nearly 
 every afternoon to i Rooks' Nest/ generally as the 
 evening was closing in, just when the shadows fall, 
 and thoughts creep out of the corners where they 
 have been hidden during the daylight hours. She 
 guessed, and rightly, that this was the time that Con- 
 stance needed companionship most of all ; and during 
 the ensuing months, a real friendship grew up be- 
 tween them. There was such a pathetic strength in
 
 130 TEEVOR LOKDSHIP 
 
 the girl's attitude, no fear, no sorrow, just patience. 
 Not idle, empty patience, but the strong patience of 
 one who had fought and lived, and gloried in the liv- 
 ing, of one who has failed because the foe was too 
 strong, but who, nevertheless, is conscious of having 
 fought well. She opened her thoughts to Eleanor 
 quite freely as time went on, and they were so poetic, 
 so deep, and at the same time so true, that Eleanor 
 was lost in wonder at the beauty and vigour of the 
 intelligence which soared above the trammels of the 
 wasted frame. The hours spent at i Rooks' Nest' 
 were, for Eleanor, some of the most happy and most 
 fruitful of her life.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 A KNOCKING AT THE DOOR 
 
 " Is this a dream ? O, if it be a dream, 
 Let me sleep on, and do not wake me yet ! " 
 
 LONGFELLOW. 
 
 IT was all very puzzling! Eleanor's brows were 
 drawn together in a little pucker, and her eyes had 
 lost their calm serenity. She stood on the stone 
 steps, feeding the pigeons from a basket of corn, 
 mechanically flinging handful after handful where it 
 was most needed, without conscious volition. 
 
 It was one of those days which are especially sent 
 to be the solace of those intrepid ones who are bold 
 enough to brave the varied rigours of an English 
 winter. As a reward for valour, the fates bestow 
 just once, in a season of alternating muggy mildness 
 and freezing fogginess, a day on which it is a treat 
 to be alive a day which for sheer beauty and 
 caresses can hardly be equalled, and certainly not 
 surpassed, in any corner of the civilized globe. 
 
 The sun shone kindly, shielded with just sufficient 
 vapour to give it a touch of uncertainty, like a lady 
 whose charms are enhanced by a gossamer veil, 
 which betrays rather than conceals her loveliness. 
 
 131
 
 132 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 The sky was all shades of blue, from deepest cobalt 
 to faintest azure, broken here and there by fleecy 
 clouds which scudded on unfelt airs, from the heavier 
 masses on the horizon, like sheep breaking from the 
 flock on entering pasture. 
 
 It was hard to believe that spring was not at hand, 
 that the horse-chestnut on the lawn would not open 
 sticky buds to greet the festal atmosphere. But 
 nothing could have been more lovely than the out- 
 line of every tree-top, in its myriad branches and 
 twigs, against the blue of the sky. The great stone 
 pine was cut like a silhouette against the ether, while 
 on the old wall below it, a peacock was pruning his 
 feathers, and spreading his tail, which flashed and 
 glittered in the sunlight. In the intervals of his 
 toilet he was watching the pigeons at their morning 
 meal, with an aristocratic and haughty air, which 
 held at the same time a tinge of envy. Kings may 
 thus envy mortals their freedom from dignity's 
 shackles, and it was beneath him to scramble for 
 succulent morsels with the vulgar herd. Or perhaps 
 he had breakfasted. 
 
 Sir Henry had been gone for three weeks, during 
 which time Eleanor had, as she confessed in her 
 letters to Miss Price, " been ridiculously young ! " It 
 was impossible to be otherwise with Jim Lucas about, 
 for where Jim happened to be, there were youth, 
 high spirits, and overflowing gaiety. They had
 
 A KNOCKING AT THE DOOR 133 
 
 bicycled, they had driven, they had walked, and for 
 one short week they had skated, and all the time, to 
 use Joan's words, they had " Talked, and Talked, and 
 Talked." Airy, inconsequent nonsense which it did 
 the heart good to hear. Joan had, of course, had her 
 lessons in the mornings, so Eleanor, Mildred, and 
 Jim, and very frequently Roger Bolding, had amused 
 themselves and each other. 
 
 At the end of the first week, Eleanor had declared 
 that she could and would waste no more time ; but 
 the next week had passed, and the next, without 
 any perceptible change in the order of each day's 
 doings. Jim said, " They were so fearfully busy 
 doing nothing ! " 
 
 Sir Henry had written regularly. He was enjoy- 
 ing his visit to London. Dr. Harper had proved 
 even more interesting than he had expected. They 
 were busy hunting up some references at the British 
 Museum, and he would return when his researches 
 were completed. But so far no date had been fixed, 
 or even suggested. 
 
 Captain Maitland had joined their party on 
 several occasions. He was enormously taken with 
 Jim. 
 
 " He is a delightful boy," he said warmly. " So 
 full of life and vigour that I can hardly take my 
 eyes off him. To hear him at that piano is quite 
 delightful. I laughed until I was tired, the other
 
 134 TEEVOR LOKDSHIP 
 
 evening, and found myself chuckling all the way 
 home." 
 
 And Eleanor had admitted that she had laughed 
 more since his arrival than during the whole pre- 
 vious course of her life. 
 
 "He is the personification of gaiety," Captain 
 Maitland continued. " It is easy to see that Life 
 has never troubled him for a moment." 
 
 " I hope it never will." 
 
 " No ! For haven't you noticed that those people 
 who so thoroughly appreciate joy, appreciate sorrow 
 just as keenly? However, I don't know why we 
 should talk of sorrow in connection with Jim ; 
 certainly there seems no shadow of a cloud on his 
 horizon. They are two dear children, and I pray 
 they may have all the joy they shed on others." 
 Then, noticing that Eleanor looked surprised, he 
 added, "Am I a gossiping old busybody ? I am 
 so sorry ! but really you must have noticed how fond 
 he is of her, and it seems to me that she entirely 
 returns the feeling." 
 
 " It had not struck me. Joan always seems to 
 claim most of his attention; Mildred is generally 
 rather silent. I have noticed it particularly since 
 Jim came." 
 
 " A bad sign ! A bad sign ! " said the old man, 
 laughing. " They are both fine natures, they will 
 love finely. You couldn't have expected to keep
 
 A KNOCKING AT THE DOOR 135 
 
 her very long, you know, Lady Trevor. Youth 
 and love are inseparable. Youth is love, and love 
 is youth, the fountain of eternal Youth, the leaven 
 in the lump of life, ( The only thing worth having.' ' 
 
 Eleanor had made no reply ; and presently their 
 conversation had drifted into other channels. 
 
 What was this mysterious power ? It seemed to 
 surround her on every side. There were Jim and 
 Mildred stepping hand in hand into its radiant circle. 
 There was Captain Maitland, full of years and 
 common sense, stating decidedly and thoughtfully 
 that it was the only thing worth having ! 
 
 She had become devoted to Mildred, and since her 
 conversation with Captain Maitland, had watched 
 her with different eyes ; and she was forced to confess 
 that a change had come over the girl. Her smile 
 had an added beauty, her voice an added sweetness, 
 while her eyes were dim as with some vision of 
 transcendent loveliness which was dawning before 
 her. 
 
 Eleanor felt as if life, which had seemed so simple, 
 had suddenly developed all the complexity of a 
 Chinese puzzle. The more she tried to solve it, 
 the more she missed the clue, and had to begin all 
 over again. She emptied her basket, and, turning, 
 went indoors with a vague pain at her heart. 
 
 Later that day, she walked into the village shop. 
 It was empty, save for old Lavender, who was busily
 
 136 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 weighing tea, and tying it into half-pound packets, 
 singing cheerily to herself the while. She had sung 
 in the village choir for many years, before the era 
 of surpliced boys, and now, though her voice was 
 thin and reedy, here and there an unexpectedly 
 sweet note would surprise the listener. Probably 
 the practices of long ago had fixed words and tunes 
 in her memory, for she always sang hymns, and 
 they were always cheerful. 
 
 " Count your bless ings. Count them one by one. 
 Count your blessings. See what God hath done." 
 
 The words and tune came uncertainly and jerkily, 
 sometimes they ceased altogether for a moment, when 
 the scales required a particularly nice adjustment, but 
 after the pause they were resumed as if there had 
 been no interruption. 
 
 " Good-afternoon, Lavender ! How are you ? " said 
 Eleanor. 
 
 " I'm fine, m' lady. How's yourself this day ? " 
 " I'm very well, thank you." 
 " You've not got Sir Henry back yet ? " 
 " No, not yet, he is still busy in London." 
 " Ah ! London ! That do seem a wonderful place," 
 said the old woman, nodding her head. " I never 
 was there but once, and then I was fairly put 
 about ! 'Twas years ago, and I'd an aunt lived there. 
 Some l Gardens/ I don't rightly remember the name.
 
 A KNOCKING AT THE DOOR 137 
 
 Well, I went up one day with a square of honey, and 
 a fine plant of rosemary for to put in her ' gardens.' 
 I was thinking, maybe, they'd be something the same 
 as them up to yours, m' lady, for uncle, he was a warm 
 man, they said. And when I got there, I laughed ! " 
 
 " What happened ? " asked Eleanor. 
 
 " Well ! I got into a big yaller carriage, a 'bus it 
 was, with a fat man sitting under a great umbrella, 
 and a young man on the back step, very pale he was, 
 I remember, but I thought perhaps it were standing 
 in all that rocking and shaking. Then, all of a sud- 
 den we stop, and he says, ' Here, ma'am, here's your 
 gardens.' He had me run on to the pavement in no 
 time, and I looked all round for them gardens, but I 
 couldn't see them. Then I said to a policeman, 
 * Please tell me where these gardens is,' and he says, 
 ' This is it.' And I fairly burst out laughing. There 
 was a sycamore and two poplars standing bare and 
 black ('twas not a leaf time, being February, if I 
 mind me right), and there was seven or eight measly 
 bushes, a coal scuttle and tomater tin ! I stood and 
 laughed, and laughed. There was my plant of rose- 
 mary in my arms, and there was the ' Gardens,' look- 
 ing worse than old Tinker's yard " (the Marine Store 
 dealer). " His trees don't do well. Trees don't seem 
 to favour the iron scraps, I've noticed. 
 
 " I'd heard a wonderful lot about London bein' so 
 gay and bright, and full of pleasure, but it seemed to
 
 138 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 me that the pleasure was like the bubbles in the gin- 
 ger-beer, soon bursted and gone. And London folks 
 was, to me, kind of unfeeling. There was aunt took 
 ill sudden, and there was nobody come in from next 
 door, friendly like, to help her. She said she didn't 
 know her next-door neighbour ! London people don't 
 seem to have no more heart than April lettuce. But 
 maybe I was wrong, and 'twas well hidden." 
 
 "I don't know London well, but I don't think I 
 should like to live there." 
 
 " So you see it's a mercy we don't neither of us 
 have to ! " said old Lavender, cheerfully. " There's 
 mercies in everything." 
 
 " I came to ask about your daughter. I heard she 
 wasn't well." 
 
 " She has been wonderful poorly, m' lady. I went 
 to see her last Monday, and she was sadly. But I 
 had a letter from her, and she says she's mending 
 now. Poor soul ! the life's hard for her when she's 
 ailing." 
 
 "Are they still moving about?" asked Eleanor. 
 
 " They aren't often more than two days in one 
 place. Always on the move ! I never could abide 
 it! Waking up in the morning and not knowing 
 what you were going to see ! If I couldn't look out 
 and see the bakehouse chimney standing where it al- 
 ways stands, I don't know what I should do ! That 
 I don't ! That caravan, that do seem stuffy too, for
 
 A KNOCKING AT THE DOOR 139 
 
 if the door's open, 'tis freezing cold, and the boy isn't 
 over strong. But she's happy, Bessie is wonderful 
 happy ! So long as her man keeps on the square, she 
 don't mind." 
 
 " It must be a very different life to being here with 
 you. I wonder she could go away to that." 
 
 " She found her man," replied Lavender. " I tried 
 all I knew to reason with her at first, and then I 
 stopped, for I knew 'twas no manner of use fighting 
 it. For where your love calls, there you must go, be 
 it near or far and then 'tis Heaven or Hell, accord- 
 ing to the man." 
 
 She spoke quite simply. She was stating the 
 truth as she knew it, with the outspoken courage 
 with which the strong hearts of her class meet Life. 
 They know no evasion, no subtlety; the thing is 
 there, and they accept it. The eternal law of mating 
 as primeval nature mated, but with the complexity 
 and frailty of human souls added to it, so that the 
 outcome was not to be foretold. 
 
 A sense of the tragedy underlying the words 
 struck Eleanor like a blow. On the top of her heart- 
 searchings and questionings, this calm acknowl- 
 edgment of a force against which it was futile to 
 struggle, a force which, relentless and overwhelming, 
 pushed aside the mother-love and home-love as if 
 they were of no account, was almost more than she 
 could bear. It may be that her face betrayed her
 
 140 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 feelings, for almost immediately Lavender continued 
 with a smile : 
 
 " But there ! ' tisn't every one has the power to feel 
 like that. 'Tis not given to every one, to be sure ! 
 Some go and marry for nothing more than a roof, or 
 a Sunday frock. With Jennie Miller 'twas a matter 
 of a cow and a chiny teapot ! A nice teapot it was, 
 and Ned Miller's mother and grandmother had set 
 wonderful store by it. They used to say it had come 
 from a foreign land, and certainly there was not 
 another like it in the village. His mother was 
 always a-talking of it, saying as how her son's wife 
 would have something no one else had ; and Jennie, 
 she was young and foolish, and when Ned asked her, 
 she said ( Yes,' just to have the laugh over the other 
 maids, and not caring a snap about him. And what 
 happened ? She was feckless and untidy, and Ned 
 grew surly, and small wonder, with a home like a 
 pigsty ; and one day Jennie goes cleaning, in a 
 temper, just to show she could if she chose, and the 
 handle of the besom knocked the chiny teapot off the 
 shelf, and broke it all to bits. The cow died soon 
 after, with eating a bit of the old yew-tree ; and there 
 was the end of it ! He'd got a wife as weren't no 
 manner of use to him, and she'd got a man with a 
 temper, and no cow and no teapot ! 
 
 " No ! No ! that don't do, to go and choose a 
 husband like you would a pair of boots. Not but
 
 A KNOCKING AT THE DOOR 141 
 
 what they're much alike," Lavender nodded her 
 head wisely, " for if they don't fit you, they'll hurt 
 you horrid ! " 
 
 Eleanor made no reply, and after a pause, Lavender 
 said : 
 
 " You never can tell about marriage, can you, 
 m' lady ? Seems full of surprises, it does. And 
 folks are different. Some takes things earnest, and 
 some takes things light, and folks that takes things 
 light have an easier time, maybe but then, again, 
 maybe they miss the best ! " 
 
 At this point in the conversation a customer 
 entered, and Eleanor took her leave. 
 
 It seemed almost as if circumstances had combined 
 to force the same topic on her attention from every 
 quarter. She did not seem able to get away from it. 
 Wherever she went it haunted her. She found her- 
 self wishing her husband would return. When her 
 life resumed its usual routine, her time would be 
 filled in, and she would be able to shake off these 
 problems and fancies which had taken possession of 
 her. She had had too much frivolity and idleness ; 
 she must start hard work of some kind, that would 
 restore control over her mind, and help her to forget 
 what she called her foolish thoughts. 
 
 Eleanor felt happier when she had arrived at this 
 decision, but nevertheless, after she went to bed that 
 night, she lay awake for hours. And when at last
 
 142 TEEVOR LOKDSHIP 
 
 sleep came to her, it was not the quiet slumber to 
 which she was accustomed, for, contrary to her usual 
 habit, she dreamed. 
 
 It seemed to her that she walked in a quiet garden 
 of lawns and trees ; it was very silent and very peace- 
 ful. She noticed with surprise, however, that there 
 were no flowers, nothing but foliage and verdure. 
 Presently, as she walked along, she came to a door, 
 through the bars of which she could see glimpses of 
 another garden, which was full of flowers in full 
 bloom and beauty. There were lilies, and there were 
 roses, masses of them, more than she had ever seen 
 in her life before, and the scent of their fragrance 
 reached her through the barred door. She raised her 
 hand to try the latch, and as she did so, she noticed 
 she was carrying an old china teapot ! It seemed 
 absurd, even in her dream, that she should be walking 
 in a garden carrying a teapot ! 
 
 She found she could not open the door, so again 
 she waited, although she did not know what for ; but 
 presently she saw a figure coming towards her. It 
 was curiously indistinct ; it seemed to be wrapped in a 
 mist, and something told her it was the mist of years. 
 The figure was veiled, and she could see no face ; but 
 again something told her its name was Love. 
 
 And Love opened the gate, just a little, and beck- 
 oned with his hand. She longed to enter the garden, 
 but she knew she must not do so until she had seen
 
 A KNOCKING AT THE DOOR 143 
 
 his face, and she could not see it through the veil. 
 So she turned and walked away, feeling faint with 
 longing for the beauty of the garden ; and when she 
 awoke, she found the pillow was wet with her tears. 
 The dream was so vivid, so real, that the longing did 
 not vanish with the daylight as most dream longings 
 do, but remained with her; and the next night, and 
 many nights after, she dreamed the same dream. 
 
 She grew quite excited about it at last, and each 
 night she wondered if the figure would unveil and 
 show his face. But no, it remained veiled. The only 
 difference was, that each night the door was opened 
 just a little wider, and the scent of the roses and 
 lilies grew stronger, and more fragrant.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 A NEW POINT OF VIEW 
 
 " Love, Love, what wilt thou with this heart of mine ? 
 Nought see I fixed or sure in thee ! 
 I do not know thee nor what deeds are thine, 
 Love, Love, what wilt thou with this heart of mine ?" 
 
 LONGFELLOW. 
 
 " WELL ! " said Minnie, cheerfully, " one thing is 
 certain, and that is, that Eleanor has every reason to 
 be enormously grateful to me ! There isn't another 
 woman who could have done what I've done for 
 Henry, in this short space of time." 
 
 "He really is a different man," replied her mother, 
 with an admiring sniff. " You really have managed 
 him wonderfully. Why ! last night, at Lady Seaton's, 
 General Laurence asked me who that distinguished- 
 looking man was." 
 
 " All me ! " said Minnie, regardless of grammar, 
 dropping a curtsy to herself in the looking-glass. 
 " Of all the hairy, hungry-looking men I ever saw, 
 Henry was the worst. Toby said I deserved a putty 
 medal for walking down Bond Street with him. He 
 didn't look so bad at Trevor, but London, cest autre 
 chose ! I did it, and alone I did it ! I nearly had 
 hysterics at his face when I stopped at Douglas's, and 
 
 144
 
 A NEW POINT OF VIEW 145 
 
 said, l Now go and have all your hair cut off, and half 
 your moustache ! ' But he went in like a lamb ! " 
 
 " I am sure Eleanor ought to be very grateful to 
 you," murmured Mrs. Trevor. 
 
 " She won't be," said Minnie, sweetly. " She will 
 only be rather shocked at my daring to dictate to 
 him." 
 
 " But the spectacles are gone ! " 
 
 " Yes ! You know the man said that he must 
 still wear them in the bright sunshine, and that if he 
 went about in a hot climate and a glare he'd probably 
 go blind. But that's nothing, because no one can 
 accuse poor old England of being too sunny, and now 
 that he has got the place, and all, he won't want to go 
 abroad again." 
 
 Minnie was silent for half a minute, and then she 
 rattled on again in her extravagant way. 
 
 " I am thinking of putting an advertisement in the 
 papers, ( Gentlemen trimmed and polished until fit to 
 shine in any society.' It sounds rather like furniture 
 polish, but I'm sure it would pay." 
 
 Mrs. Trevor sniffed a sniff of amusement, and 
 smiled. 
 
 " I'm going out now," said Minnie, rising. " I'm 
 lunching at Prince's with old Brandt." 
 
 " I can't think how you can speak to that horrible 
 man," said Mrs. Trevor, venturing for once to disagree 
 with her daughter.
 
 146 TKEVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 " My dear Mamma, he is useful ! I don't know 
 what I should do without him. He's frightfully 
 sharp, and knows everything simply weeks before 
 any one else. I've made a pot of money this year by 
 following his tips." 
 
 "He's so hideous," said the old lady, feebly. 
 
 " He isn't a beauty, certainly, but I can eat a very 
 good lunch without looking at him. An oyster is nastier 
 to look at, but that doesn't prevent my eating them ! " 
 
 " Shall you be in to dinner ?" 
 
 "No. I'm dining with Toby, and going to the 
 play, but I shall see you at tea time. Ta-ta, old lady, 
 I must run. I've got to try on two gowns at Ce- 
 leste's before luncheon." 
 
 Meanwhile, Sir Henry was seated in the train which 
 was bearing him rapidly homeward. He was leaning 
 back comfortably, smoking a cigar, and reading a 
 magazine. His visit to London had been a great suc- 
 cess. He had met the right men, he had acquired 
 the information he needed, and in the bag which lay 
 beside him on the seat were a mass of papers and 
 notes which would occupy him for many months to 
 come. Oh, yes, he was very glad he had been to Lon- 
 don ; ten minutes' conversation with a person was far 
 more satisfactory than any amount of correspondence. 
 
 He was on the right track now, that he knew. 
 Very soon he would have a foothold, and then he
 
 A NEW POINT OF VIEW 147 
 
 could climb. The difficulty was to get a start, after 
 so many wasted years. Eleanor had really been very 
 good. From what he heard, some men's wives were 
 most tiresome about letting their husbands go away, 
 and were always making demands upon their time, but 
 he felt he had every reason to be thankful that Eleanor 
 was not like that; she was most sensible about his 
 work. 
 
 Then his thoughts soared off to the distant moun- 
 tains of attainment whose summit he would soon 
 reach. His mind seethed with ideas and inspirations. 
 He felt that the last few weeks of intercourse with 
 some of the great minds of the day had been, as it 
 were, the friction necessary to cause the smouldering 
 to burst embers of his thought into spark and flame. 
 He was keenly looking forward to reaching home 
 and starting work again. 
 
 On the whole, Minnie had vastly amused him. He 
 was too good-natured, perhaps too easy-going, to 
 mind her comments on his appearance and her high- 
 handed way of improving the same. Perhaps body 
 as well as brain had become rusty during his sojourn 
 abroad. He was perfectly willing to wear short hair 
 and new clothes, if it pleased her ; it did not make 
 any difference to him. He was equally willing to 
 accompany her into society whenever it did not in- 
 terfere with his numerous appointments, and to tell 
 the truth, he had been surprised to find how much
 
 148 TKEVOE, LORDSHIP 
 
 he had enjoyed himself. But now to work ! to 
 work! that was his one idea. 
 
 It was snowing and intensely cold when he reached 
 Larnham and stepped into the brougham for his 
 homeward drive, but he hardly noticed the weather ; 
 he was busy arranging his schemes for the future. 
 Occasionally he would take out his pencil, and jot 
 down a few words on a slip of paper by the dim light 
 of the carriage lamps, but for the most part he sat 
 motionless and thoughtful. 
 
 Eleanor and the girls were sitting by the hall fire 
 when he arrived, and Joan flew to meet him. 
 
 "How are you all?" he said cheerfully. "What 
 a cold night ! " 
 
 " You must have had a most disagreeable journey," 
 said Eleanor. " I expect you are half frozen." 
 
 " Oh, no ! How cheerful and comfortable you look ! " 
 
 "Jim has gone," said Joan, mournfully. "He 
 couldn't stay, but he says he will come back again." 
 
 " I am very sorry not to see him. But really, 
 Eleanor, I was so busy. There were so many things 
 to keep me, I really could not get away before." 
 
 " You will see the great Jim soon," said Eleanor, 
 smiling. " He assured us he would come back be- 
 fore long. How did you leave your mother and 
 Minnie ? " 
 
 " Very well, I think. Minnie is a most energetic 
 person, never still for a moment, so far as I could see.
 
 A NEW POINT OF VIEW 149 
 
 It is very nice to be back home/' he added. " I seem 
 to have been away a long time." 
 
 " Lots of things have happened," said Joan. 
 " Jenkins is dead, and the stable dog has got six 
 puppies." 
 
 " Jenkins was one of the under gardeners," explained 
 Mildred. 
 
 "How are you, Eleanor?" asked Sir Henry, sud- 
 denly looking at his wife. 
 
 "I - " she stammered, " I am very well." 
 
 To her annoyance a flush suffused her face from 
 throat to temples as she met his eyes. She was ask- 
 ing herself in bewilderment what had happened to 
 her husband ? He was extraordinarily changed. It 
 was not only the alteration in his appearance, but the 
 whole man was different. There seemed to be a 
 keenness and an energy about him which had been 
 absent before. 
 
 And then she realized that of course his eyes had 
 been hidden before by his glasses, and now his direct 
 glance embarrassed her; for some reason which she 
 could not understand, she could not meet it. She 
 was furious with herself for blushing like a girl, and 
 grateful to Joan for chattering. It gave her time to 
 recover herself. But presently the girls went away, 
 and Sir Henry rose, and Eleanor spoke. She felt she 
 must say something to put an end to her awkward- 
 ness.
 
 150 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 " You have had a successful time in London ? " 
 
 " Yes ! " he answered warmly. " Splendid ! It 
 was most interesting. Harper was a delightful man, 
 and introduced me to a lot of people I wanted to 
 know. I am to write a series of articles for the 
 ' Forum.' " 
 
 " I am so glad," she said. 
 
 " It is a good beginning. The great thing is to 
 get in. I felt so hopelessly out of it before ; but now 
 I am ready and anxious to get to work again. I met 
 several publishers, too, and Jackson of the l Courier.' 
 You see, some of the things I sent home have kept 
 a place warm for me, in a way, so that they know 
 pretty well what my subjects are. I must write to 
 Kohler to-morrow, and tell him all about it. I found 
 out one or two things he wanted to know, too. If I 
 get regularly on to the l Century,' it will be a great 
 thing. Oh ! I can do it all right now." 
 
 Eleanor looked at him. He was standing in front 
 of the fire, his head thrown back, his eyes bright and 
 eager, his whole figure instinct with self-confidence 
 and determination. And as if in answer to her 
 thought, he said suddenly : 
 
 " It is not every one, you know, that has a second 
 chance. But my chance has come to me, and I am 
 going to take it. I am going straight on now." 
 And then he added rather grimly, "Nothing shall 
 turn me from the path this time."
 
 A NEW POINT OF VIEW 151 
 
 When Eleanor went up to her room that night, she 
 walked to the window, flung it wide open, and, wrap- 
 ping herself in a fur cloak, she sat down beside 
 it. 
 
 The moon was shining brightly, shedding its beams 
 over the snow that lay like a pall over the sleeping 
 earth. There was no wind, and the snow had ceased 
 to fall ; all nature seemed in thrall by the iron hand 
 of Winter. The branches of the cedar on the lawn 
 at the front of the house were weighed down beneath 
 the weight of their burden, which gleamed and scin- 
 tillated in the cold light, like thousands of tiny 
 diamonds. And under that snowy pall lay life 
 slumbering in the certain hope of a glorious resur- 
 rection. 
 
 She pressed her hands to her temples, which were 
 throbbing painfully with the excitement of her brain. 
 
 " Were hearts like that ? " she wondered. " Did 
 hearts sleep through 'the slow-moving years without 
 sign of life, until they were quickened by the myste- 
 rious power which she was beginning, in a vague way, 
 to acknowledge ? Had her heart slept ? And was it 
 waking now ? What was the reason of this quicken- 
 ing of her pulse, of this emotion of her senses, at the 
 sight of those eyes whose look rent the veil of memory 
 in a moment ? " And again, as on another night many 
 months before, she rose and crossed the room, and took 
 the old photograph in her hand. She studied it long
 
 152 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 and earnestly, and again the slow and painful colour 
 suffused her face. 
 
 Then, for a moment, a sense of terror seized her like 
 the strong grip of an unseen hand. What was this 
 power, the force of whose might sounded distantly, 
 but distinctly, in her ears, like the thunder of a far- 
 off sea ? Was the first wave of its overwhelming tide 
 breaking even now in ripples at her feet ? Was there 
 no escape, no avoiding of the advancing flood ? She 
 was happy, she was content, and she feared the un- 
 known. Might it not pass her by ? And then, as if 
 in immediate answer to her thought, a form stood out 
 clearly before her eyes so clearly that it seemed she 
 had but to stretch out her hand to touch it and a 
 voice said again, " My chance has come, and I am 
 going to take it." His chance of what ? Of life ? 
 or fame ? or something more ? 
 
 It is curious that we are seldom afraid of anything 
 we know. The familiar thin^, however dangerous, 
 always loses its terror; but the strongest men have 
 been driven to panic by a thing they could not under- 
 stand a thing that seemed to them unaccountable 
 supernatural. 
 
 Eleanor was no weakling. She instinctively re- 
 sented at first the thought of resigning herself to the 
 control of a strange influence. She had walked 
 through life as a path which had run between certain 
 well-defined lines, a lane, as it were, with hedges and
 
 A NEW POINT OF VIEW 153 
 
 trees on either side; but now it was leading her she 
 knew not whither, on to a great plain where there 
 were no signposts, and no familiar landmarks a 
 strange country ! 
 
 But gradually the quiet beauty of the night had a 
 soothing effect on her. The vast beauty of nature, 
 which brings home to us the futility of our petty 
 struggles against her inevitable laws, and strengthens 
 us with a measure of her unchanging strength ! 
 
 " After all," she thought, " whatever came to her, 
 there was no reason to be afraid. She was here, in 
 her proper place, in her home, and because a change 
 took place in herself and her own feelings, it would 
 not really affect her life. It would not alter the daily 
 routine of duties and pleasures which made up the 
 sum of her days, or influence her new capabilities of 
 enjoyment, her new joie de vivre." 
 
 She sat on, regardless of the passing hours, and her 
 thoughts were pleasant. They were more of the past 
 than the future, for now that the veil was rent she 
 found she could recall so much. Recollections that 
 had been dim before stood out clear and bright, fraught 
 with new meaning. Scenes from the life of " Sweet 
 Nell " of long ago held for her now a precious person- 
 ality. Words that had been spoken once, and then 
 forgotten, returned to her now alive with new and 
 sacred meaning, as a seed hidden under the brown 
 earth awakes at the caress of the sun.
 
 154 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 When she sought her bed at last, sleep came at 
 once, and again she dreamed her dream. Again she 
 saw the garden with its wealth of flowers, Lilies of 
 Love's purity Roses of Love's delight. The air was 
 clear and fragrant, for the mists of years had rolled 
 away. The door stood wide open. The waiting fig- 
 ure was no longer veiled, and the face was the face 
 of her husband.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE SPIRIT OF THE SPRING 
 
 " The holy spirit of the Spring 
 Is working silently." 
 
 GEORGE MACDONALD. 
 
 THE winter had come and gone, and Spring had 
 touched the world with her magic wand, clothing bare 
 fields and naked boughs with leaf and blossom at her 
 bidding. The air was full of her elusive perfume. 
 The horse-chestnut raised a thousand torches to a cloud- 
 less sky, the guelder roses danced in the gentle breeze, 
 swaying and curtsying as if to some measure, the 
 rhythm of which was audible to themselves alone. The 
 rooks in the elms were volubly discussing their affairs, 
 arguing the best method of rearing a new generation, 
 and apparently finding some difnculty in arriving at 
 a satisfactory decision. Mothers are the same, it is 
 presumable, in every community; the younger ones 
 would start their nursery with new theories which 
 the older ones would consider ridiculous, and have no 
 hesitation in condemning. Also, the mothers-in-law 
 would feel it their duty to express their opinion ! All 
 this naturally leads to a good deal of conversation ! 
 
 In a wicker chair under the great tree on the lawn 
 
 155
 
 156 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 at ' Trevor Lordship' sat Miss Price, her mushroom hat 
 tied firmly under her chin, her stoutly shod feet planted 
 sturdily in front of her, and her hands clasped on her 
 stick. She was sitting bolt upright, in a still and 
 uncompromising attitude, but round her mouth hov- 
 ered a little crooked smile, full of tenderness. 
 
 Circumstances had postponed her first visit to 
 Eleanor's home until now, but the regular corre- 
 spondence between them had kept her in touch with 
 her daily life, and by dint of reading between the lines 
 she had learnt a good deal more than had been told 
 in black and white. At this moment she was engaged 
 in what she herself termed " summing up the situa- 
 tion." 
 
 She had very soon come to the conclusion that 
 Eleanor Russell loved her husband ; that her feeling 
 for him was very different since her marriage. For 
 this new affection showed itself in a hundred little 
 ways. On these occasions it is proverbial that on- 
 lookers see most of the game, and Miss Price found a 
 certain pathos in Eleanor's attentions to her husband. 
 They were so absolutely wasted. 
 
 Sir Henry was not the man to notice that the 
 flowers on his writing-table were always freshly ar- 
 ranged, that his blotting-paper and pens were always 
 exactly to his liking, and that his wife was ever on 
 guard to defend his working hours from the slightest 
 disturbance. He took all these things for granted.
 
 THE SPIRIT OF THE SPRING 157 
 
 Eleanor had told her friend quite frankly that she 
 was perfectly and entirely happy, that she had no 
 wish ungratified. This was all very pleasant as far 
 as it went; but in Miss Price's opinion it did not go 
 far, and did not, so far as she could see, ensure any 
 lengthened duration of that state of content. 
 
 o 
 
 " Some men are fools ! fools ! " she said 
 angrily at last, beating the turf viciously with her 
 stick, more to emphasize her words. Perhaps some of 
 her irritation was caused by the fact that she couldn't 
 make up her own mind as to what she wished for 
 Eleanor. Would it be happier for her to continue in 
 her present state of blindness, or to arrive speedily at 
 a full knowledge of the situation ? Which situation 
 showed signs of becoming complicated ! The old lady 
 frowned, and rose from her chair, as Eleanor and 
 Roger Bolding came out of the house together, and 
 walked down the steps on to the lawn. 
 
 " All men are fools ! " she muttered, changing her 
 previous sentence by just one word. 
 
 " Have you seen Henry ? " asked Eleanor. " Mr. 
 Bolding has come over to ask him about that French 
 fencing, and he generally comes in from his walk 
 about this time." 
 
 " No," said Miss Price. " I have seen no one 
 except Jim and Mildred, who were putting on the 
 lawn a little while ago." 
 
 " Isn't this a heavenly day ? " said Bolding, sinking
 
 158 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 into a chair ; " even Trevor couldn't spend it all in- 
 doors." 
 
 " He was writing most of the morning," said 
 Eleanor, with a smile. 
 
 At this moment, Joan raced across the lawn, 
 closely pursued by Jim, while Mildred followed at a 
 more sedate pace. 
 
 " Lady Trevor," said Jim, plaintively, " have you 
 a muzzle anywhere you could lend me ?" 
 
 " I am afraid I haven't. Is it for Joan ? " 
 
 "Yes. Something must be done. My hair is 
 rapidly going grey ! She has done nothing but ask 
 me riddles since I arrived yesterday." 
 
 " I don't ask riddles," said Joan, indignantly. " I 
 only ask questions. How am I to learn things if no 
 one will tell me ? " 
 
 " What do you want to know now ?" asked Roger. 
 
 " I only wanted to know where the sausages go in 
 the summer?" answered Joan, meekly. 
 
 " Great Scott ! " ejaculated Roger. " A conundrum ! 
 I give it up ! " 
 
 " I only wanted to know," repeated Joan. 
 
 Jim passed his hand across his forehead with a 
 look of despair. 
 
 " This is a sample of the kind of simple question I 
 am expected to answer all day long." 
 
 " Sausages go with the Christmas Tree and 
 Crackers," said Miss Price.
 
 THE SPIKIT OF THE SPRING 159 
 
 "Do they really ? " asked Joan, eagerly. " Do you 
 know, you are the only person who has ever been 
 kind enough to answer me. It is so trying when no 
 one will answer you when you really want to know. 
 I suppose they go to the North Pole then." 
 
 " I think it is probable that the polar bears enjoy 
 them," continued Miss Price, " until the icebergs come 
 south and bring them back to England again." 
 
 " What sport did you have with the salmon, Jim ? " 
 asked Roger Bolding. 
 
 " Very fair indeed," replied Jim, who had just 
 returned from fishing in Scotland for a fortnight, in 
 between his constant visits to l Trevor Lordship ' ; 
 " mostly grilse." 
 
 " What are grilse ? " asked Joan. 
 
 Jim dropped his head in his hands with a gesture 
 of distraction. 
 
 " Darling child ! " he moaned, " more conundrums ! " 
 
 But Roger was equal to the occasion. 
 
 " A grilse, Joan," he said solemnly, " is a debu- 
 tant salmon who has not yet done his Wanderjahr ! " 
 
 Joan stared in bewilderment. Miss Price chuckled. 
 
 " Go and look that out in the dictionary, my love," 
 said Jim, sweetly. 
 
 " I have fished those waters," continued Roger, 
 " but not until later in the year. What flies did you 
 use ? " and he and Jim plunged into details of fishing 
 accessories.
 
 160 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 " What are you going to do this afternoon, Aunt 
 Eleanor ? " asked Mildred. " Jim and I thought of 
 going into Larnham to fetch the evening post." 
 
 " I shall be walking to the village later ; but I have 
 no particular plans." 
 
 " Joan is going to take me round the farm," said 
 Miss Price ; " and then we are going to see Lavender 
 Hagger." 
 
 " Haven't you seen her yet ? " asked Roger. " You 
 have a treat in store for you. She is worth going 
 miles to see. I wish there were better accounts of 
 her son-in-law ; he's a real wrong 'un." 
 
 " He hasn't been getting into trouble again, has 
 he ? " asked Eleanor, anxiously. 
 
 " Well, he only just managed to clear himself when 
 Mr. Ford's keeper had that tussle with poachers in 
 December. The chap is always poaching ; and one 
 day he'll get caught; and then he'll get it hot enough, 
 for the police have had their eye on him for years." 
 
 "I have a sympathy with poachers," announced 
 Miss Price. 
 
 " So have I," returned Roger, promptly ; " but 
 this man hasn't got the excuse half of them have. 
 He's a skilled blacksmith, and could make his five 
 and twenty shillings a week if he chose. He wouldn't 
 work for untold gold; he prefers to loaf and poach 
 and steal." 
 
 " Poor Bessie," said Eleanor, with a sigh.
 
 THE SPIRIT OF THE SPRING 161 
 
 " Yes, poor Bessie ! but she went into it with her 
 eyes open." 
 
 " I wonder if that makes any difference ?" she said, 
 gently. 
 
 " It was awfully funny ! " continued Roger. " Last 
 week at the Bench Sir George Lloyd had a man up 
 before him for poaching. Well, you know, Sir 
 George is no end of a sportsman, and the chap knew 
 it. He had shot a pheasant under the keeper's nose, 
 and there was no denying it ; but knowing Sir George, 
 he said in excuse, ' It was a good shot, you know, Sir 
 Geaoge ! ' t So it was ! ' retorted Sir George, quickly; 
 1 a d d good shot, but you get a month for it ! ' 
 Every one roared with laughter, including the man 
 himself." 
 
 " I do hope Bessie's husband will keep out of trou- 
 ble," said Eleanor, presently, " for Lavender's sake." 
 
 " So do I ; but I am afraid there is not much chance 
 of it." 
 
 Mildred and Jim disappeared presently, and Miss 
 Price and Joan departed for their tour of the farm. 
 Bolding made no sign of any desire to seek Sir Henry ; 
 he had evidently forgotten the matter of the fencing, 
 or perhaps it was not important. 
 
 " Are you going to be at home all the summer ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " Oh, yes. I love this place, and have no wish to 
 go away, even for a day."
 
 162 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 " It is looking lovely now." 
 
 " I couldn't bear to go away just as my new border 
 was in bloom. I took such trouble over the plant- 
 ing." 
 
 " Jim is here again." 
 
 " Yes ! " Eleanor smiled. " He doesn't seem to 
 do much work, does he ? But he told me last night 
 that his father had promised him an assured position 
 in the business, and that he was only taking a holi- 
 day before settling down to work." 
 
 " There is not much doubt as to what brings him 
 here." 
 
 " No ! there is not much doubt. They seem very 
 happy in each other's society." 
 
 " What does your husband say about it ? " 
 
 " I don't know. He has never mentioned it to me ; 
 I don't really know if he has noticed it." 
 
 " He must have seen it, surely," said Bolding, in 
 surprise. " He would have stopped it months ago if 
 he had not approved . It would be hard luck on them 
 both if he had any reason against it, after having the 
 boy here so constantly." 
 
 Eleanor felt certain in her own mind that the idea 
 of Jim as a suitor for Mildred's hand had never 
 crossed Sir Henry's mind ; and Bolding's words pre- 
 sented the matter in a new light to her. She deter- 
 mined that she would speak to her husband about it 
 without delay.
 
 THE SPIRIT OF THE SPRING 163 
 
 " It isn't likely he'll disapprove, is it ? " he con- 
 tinued. " He is the only son of his father, who, by 
 all accounts, is a rich man. They seem very devoted 
 to each other. The only thing that might be said is 
 that he is too young. But he has plenty of grit in 
 him, has Master Jim, for all his larkiness. You are 
 not against people marrying young, are you ? " 
 
 " No ! I don't think so. I don't quite see why 
 they shouldn't, if they are fond of each other. Long 
 engagements are difficult sometimes." 
 
 Bolding looked at her keenly. 
 
 "You were engaged for a long time, weren't 
 you?" he asked quietly. 
 
 "Oh, yes!" said Eleanor, flushing. "But that 
 was different." 
 
 She did not, however, explain where the difference 
 lay. 
 
 " All the world seems marrying and giving in mar- 
 riage," he continued, after a pause. " Two friends 
 of mine have written to tell me of their engagements 
 this week." 
 
 " Perhaps you will be the next," suggested Eleanor. 
 
 " No, I shall never marry." 
 
 " I have heard that the people who say they won't 
 marry are generally the first to do so. Perhaps that 
 will be the case with you." 
 
 "No," he repeated decidedly. "I shall never 
 marry."
 
 164 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 " Oh, you will when you meet the right woman," 
 returned Eleanor, confidently, by which remark it 
 would seem that her ideas on the subject had devel- 
 oped considerably. " I expect you haven't met her, 
 or you would have done so before." 
 
 "I have met her, but meeting is not everything," 
 he said quietly, so quietly that Eleanor did not ap- 
 pear to hear him. The truth was that her thoughts 
 had flown in another direction. She was wondering 
 whether Henry had come in, and whether he had 
 slipped into the house without meeting her. In these 
 days she found herself watching constantly and 
 eagerly for him, and looking forward to the few 
 words which passed between them at such meetings. 
 But just then the stable clock struck four, and she 
 knew that by this time he would be busily engaged 
 in his library. He was absolutely regular in his hours, 
 following the same routine from day to day, so his 
 movements could always be counted on. With a 
 strong sense of disappointment, she turned to her 
 companion, trying to recollect the last words of their 
 conversation. 
 
 Bolding had noticed her abstraction, and was sit- 
 ting looking at her. There was a moment's pause, 
 and then he said. 
 
 " I think I have missed Trevor. He has gone back 
 to work now, I expect. I am so sorry." 
 
 JEleanor flushed at this voicing of her thoughts.
 
 THE SPIRIT OF THE SPKING 165 
 
 " Yes, he will be at his writing now. He said he 
 had something he was particularly anxious to finish 
 in time for this afternoon's post." 
 
 " He works very hard." 
 
 " Yes ! " she answered quickly. " He works very 
 hard. He is so keen about it. But he takes plenty 
 of exercise, really ; he is up very early in the morning, 
 and always rides." 
 
 " Do you ride, too ? " 
 
 "No, I can't ride. I wish I could, but I have 
 never learnt. I think he likes riding alone, for I 
 have an idea he plans his work for the day. I know 
 it is seldom out of his thoughts." 
 
 " He must have been awfully out of it abroad," 
 said Bolding. " I wonder he stayed so long." 
 
 "He could not help himself," replied Eleanor, 
 quickly. " After fifteen years of exile it is no won- 
 der that he is throwing himself into it with zest now. 
 He was longing all the time to come home." 
 
 "I expect old Sir Henry would be pleased if he 
 knew how much his library was appreciated," said 
 Bolding, lightly. "He was tremendously proud of 
 it, and used to take the books down, and dust them 
 with his pocket handkerchief. I have seen him do it 
 scores of times. I don't believe he ever opened one 
 of them, though, for books were not much in his line. 
 His only idea was hunting. It was his father who 
 collected them, you know."
 
 166 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 " No one could possibly appreciate them more than 
 Henry," she said, smiling. " He told me he almost 
 grudged a moment spent away from them ! " 
 
 A curious expression flitted for an instant across 
 Bolding's face, but he made no reply. 
 
 " I do feel anxious about Bessie," Eleanor said, a 
 little later, referring to their previous words. " Would 
 it be any good getting them to emigrate ? " 
 
 "No, I don't think so," he answered. "Work 
 would not be any more attractive on the other side 
 than it is on this. If you like, I will ride over to- 
 morrow and have a talk with him." 
 
 " Couldn't he take a game-keeper's place ? I have 
 heard that poachers make rather good game-keepers." 
 
 " On the principle of ' set a thief to catch a thief ' ! 
 I don't know ! However, I'll find him to-morrow. 
 They are camped on Bunton Heath, I believe. I 
 can easily find them. I will come over and tell you 
 the result of my visit." 
 
 He rose as he spoke. 
 
 " That really would be kind," she said. " I would 
 go myself, but I doubt whether Dobbs would be agree- 
 able to my taking the horses so far." 
 
 "I'll go," he said cheerfully. "If there are any 
 further little jobs I can do for you, I do hope you 
 will tell me. Honour me with your commands," he 
 added, with a jesting bow. 
 
 " I don't think I have any other commissions at
 
 THE SPIEIT OF THE SPRING 167 
 
 the moment," she replied, laughing at his manner. 
 " It is very good of you to trouble about it." 
 
 " Oh ! don't talk about trouble," he said almost 
 brusquely. " How can it be any trouble ? It is a very 
 little thing to do for y " he stopped, and changed 
 his tone to its former lightness. " It is just a pleas- 
 ant excuse for a ride. That's all. Good-bye, Lady 
 Trevor ; remember me to your husband. I am sorry 
 not to have seen him."
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 WORDS AND THEIR MEANING 
 
 " O, how this spring of love resembleth 
 Th' uncertain glory of an April day. 
 Which now shows all the beauty of the sun, 
 And by and by a cloud takes all away ! " 
 
 Two Gentlemen of Verona. 
 
 u WHAT a number of letters by this evening's post ! 
 Who brought them ? " asked Sir Henry. 
 
 "Jim and I walked in to fetch them," replied 
 Mildred. 
 
 "Well, I think, if you will excuse me, I will go 
 and attend to them. I am rather expecting one or 
 two which I know will require an immediate an- 
 swer." 
 
 He gathered up his budget as he spoke, and walked 
 towards the library. Dinner was just over, and the 
 rest of the party strolled to the front door. 
 
 " What a perfect night ! " said Eleanor. " Did you 
 ever see such a moon ? It is as light as day." 
 
 " Come out," said Jim, giving a general invitation, 
 but with his eyes on Mildred. 
 
 " No, thank you ! " answered Miss Price. " How- 
 ever beautiful it may look, I am not going to court 
 rheumatism in my old bones ! You may go and 
 
 168
 
 WOEDS AND THEIR MEANING 169 
 
 court each other, if you like. You are young. That 
 makes a great difference ! " 
 
 " Put on something warm, if you are really going, 
 Mildred," said Eleanor. " I am sure it is much colder 
 than it looks." 
 
 " Come with us," said the girl, laying her hand on 
 Eleanor's arm. " Do come." 
 
 " I think I will content myself with seeing the 
 beauty of the night from the drawing-room window," 
 was Eleanor's laughing reply. " Now, Jim, you must 
 come in in a few minutes, and don't let her catch 
 cold." 
 
 He wrapped Mildred in a big fur coat which was 
 hanging up close by, and together they strolled down 
 the drive, which lay like a silver ribbon in the brilliant 
 light. 
 
 "Well, you may say what you like," said Miss 
 Price, decidedly, as she pulled up her skirts, and 
 tucked her feet on the fender. " Moonlight is all 
 very well for young people, moon and mooning ; 
 but give me a comfortable chair by the hearth, after 
 the sun has gone down." 
 
 Eleanor looked at her with affection, as she stirred 
 the fire into a blaze. It ought perhaps to be ex- 
 plained that the mystery of the mushroom hat had 
 been solved on the first evening of the old lady's 
 arrival. The report current in her home village was 
 that she slept in it; but this proved to be untrue,
 
 170 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 She wore in the place of it a small, black lace man- 
 tilla, arranged over her snow-white hair, which was 
 drawn high over a cushion in an old-fashioned but 
 extremely becoming style. She looked very charm- 
 ing and picturesque. 
 
 " It is nice having you here," Eleanor said. " I 
 only wish you could stay longer. Only another 
 week, and the last one has gone like a flash." 
 
 " I wish I could stay, but it is impossible. I have 
 a hundred and one things waiting to be seen to at 
 home. But I do enjoy being here, and shall picture 
 you better in my mind now that I know your house, 
 and all." 
 
 " It is a delicious house, isn't it ? " said Eleanor, 
 warmly. " There is something friendly about it, as 
 if all the generations who have lived in it had each 
 left something towards the home feeling, which was 
 bequeathed as a legacy to future inhabitants." 
 
 " ' All houses wherein men have lived and died 
 Are haunted houses,' " 
 
 quoted Miss Price, softly. 
 
 " Yes, that is just it. It makes such a difference 
 when you feel like that. Lots of people wouldn't in 
 the least understand what I meant. Don't you re- 
 member, a little further on in the same poem, Long- 
 fellow says : 
 
 " ' The stranger at my fireside cannot see 
 
 The forms I see, nor hear the sounds I hear,
 
 WORDS AND THEIR MEANING 171 
 
 He but perceives what is while unto me 
 
 All that has been is visible and clear. 
 
 We have no title deeds to house or lands ; 
 
 Owners and occupants of earlier dates 
 
 From graves forgotten stretch their dusty hands 
 
 And hold in mortmain still their old estates ! ' 
 
 I was reading it only yesterday. It pleases me so 
 much to think of other people who have lived their 
 lives here. Did they think the same thoughts, I 
 wonder ? " 
 
 " I know what you mean," said her friend. " I 
 have the same feeling myself for my little old cot- 
 tage. I wouldn't live in a new house, personally, if 
 you paid me to do so. Association goes for so much 
 more than people realize in these busy days. You 
 have a charming home, my dear, and are fortunate 
 enough to be able to appreciate it. Your life is very 
 full just now, with these nice young people, and all." 
 
 " Yes ! " returned Eleanor ; " and I do enjoy it. I 
 think I must have got into a very stupid state before 
 before I married ; but now everything is quite dif- 
 ferent. I wonder," she said thoughtfully, "if it is 
 possible for a heart to be born again after having 
 been dead, or at least withered ? " 
 
 " I am sure it is," was the quiet answer. " We 
 know a soul can be born again ; why not a heart ? 
 But there must be birth-pangs, my child. Nothing 
 human can be brought to life without labour and 
 pain. Human love least of all."
 
 172 TKEVOB LORDSHIP 
 
 Eleanor did not reply for some time ; she sat gaz- 
 ing into the fire. Then she began to speak quickly, 
 almost as if compelled to against her will. 
 
 " I could not understand for a long time what had 
 made the difference ; but at last I knew. It was love. 
 Did I love Henry when I was a girl, long ago ? I 
 do not know. But I do know now that love shows you 
 everything in a different light. You live ! Without 
 it, or, perhaps I should say, without the knowledge of 
 it, you don't live, you only exist. I have learnt so 
 much lately I am humble with the greatness of 
 it." 
 
 And all the time Miss Price was thinking think- 
 ing what the new heart of hers would do when it 
 grew too large to live upon itself, and felt the neces- 
 sity of another heart to join with it to make one per- 
 fect whole. The thought of it gripped her with a 
 fierceness which was like physical pain, but after a 
 while her practical mind reasserted itself. There 
 was nothing she could do ; she must leave it alone. 
 It would be cruelty base, useless cruelty to tell her 
 that human love is crippled maimed unless it 
 finds its complement, even though parting follow 
 swiftly. No, Eleanor must suffer her own pain, for 
 life and death are the two things which no one may 
 bear for another, the two great mysteries which 
 come straight from the hand of God to the individual 
 alone. Friends can only wait and pray.
 
 WORDS AND THEIR MEANING 178 
 
 Presently Eleanor asked, " Do you think Mildred 
 will be happy with Jim ? for I think, he wants to 
 marry her." 
 
 " So far as I can see, she ought to be. I like the 
 young man. He has that blessed inheritance, a cheer- 
 ful temperament, which is such a great help in life. 
 He looks a clean, honest gentleman, and I think he is 
 really fond of her. Judging by appearances, of course." 
 
 " I shall speak to Henry about it to-night. Per- 
 sonally, I like Jim very much, and I do want Mildred 
 to be happy. There is Daudet barking, so I expect 
 they are coming in." 
 
 She rose from her position by the fire, as the two 
 young people entered. Jim came straight forward, 
 holding Mildred by the hand. 
 
 " Lady Trevor," he said, " Mildred has promised to 
 be my wife. Will you wish us well ? " 
 
 Eleanor clasped the girl in her arms, while Miss 
 Price said, with a chuckle : 
 
 " I hope you don't expect us to be surprised ! " 
 
 " I do," answered Jim ; " I was ! Though of course 
 I can't say I had no hope." 
 
 " I should think not ! " she retorted. 
 
 " I do hope you will both be very happy," said 
 Eleanor, warmly. 
 
 " I know I shall be," he returned ; " and I think I 
 can make her happy. At all events, I am going to 
 have a very good try."
 
 174 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 "I am going to bed," said Miss Price, after a 
 while. " I am too old for these late hours. Bless 
 you, my children, and good -night ! " 
 
 Eleanor sat down again, and had a long talk with 
 the lovers. Jim was full of hopeful plans for the 
 future, and spoke with a new earnestness. 
 
 " When my father gave me an assured position in 
 the business, I stipulated for six months' holiday. I 
 have worked since I left Harrow, and I think I was 
 entitled to it. Also it was always Mildred," he 
 said, smiling ; " and I wanted to wait until she was 
 eighteen, so that no one could say we were too young 
 to know our own minds." 
 
 " Doesn't he talk as if he were fifty ? " laughed 
 Mildred. " He is only six years older than I am." 
 
 "Six years make a vast difference," he insisted. 
 "Don't you think we might be married very soon, 
 Lady Trevor ? and then we could have our honey- 
 moon before my time is up. I suppose I could not 
 see Sir Henry to-night ? " 
 
 " Oh, no! " cried Mildred. "He doesn't like being 
 disturbed in the evenings. It will be much better to 
 wait until to-morrow." 
 
 " I can ' understand your being impatient ; but 
 really I think you had better wait until the morn- 
 ing." 
 
 Eleanor was determined to see her husband, and 
 prepare his mind for the interview.
 
 WOKDS AND THEIR MEANING 175 
 
 "And will you let Mildred come down very soon, 
 and see my people ? " continued Jim. " They are 
 awfully fond of her, and I know they will be awfully 
 pleased." 
 
 " Of course she shall come. I am sure you will 
 want to take her to your mother as soon as possible." 
 
 "I think I had better go home and tell them 
 myself," he went on. "I will go to-morrow after- 
 noon, after I have seen Sir Henry. I will come back 
 again the next day, if I may." 
 
 "You will let him come, won't you, Aunt 
 Eleanor ? " asked Mildred. She spoke so pleadingly 
 that Eleanor laughed. There was no doubt of the 
 love these two young people felt for each other; no 
 one could deny it who saw them together now. 
 
 " Silly child," she said tenderly, " of course he 
 shall come every day, and all day. Do you think of 
 setting up house in London ?" she added. 
 
 " We must," replied Mildred, " because of Jim's 
 work." 
 
 " I suppose you will have to get Lady Vernon's 
 permission too, won't you ? " 
 
 " By Jove ! " said Jim, " I had forgotten all about 
 her. Yes, I suppose I must. But there won't be 
 any difficulties. There can't be. My darling, we 
 are much too happy to think of difficulties." 
 
 About an hour afterwards, Eleanor opened the
 
 176 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 library door gently, and walked in. The room was 
 rather dark, except just where the two shaded lamps 
 made circles of light, one by the writing-table and 
 one by the arm-chair on the hearth. A big bowl of 
 lilac struck a pleasant note of colour, just where the 
 rays of light faded into the dark background of 
 books. 
 
 She shut the door behind her, and walked a few 
 steps forward. She was always conscious of a feeling 
 of intrusion when she entered her husband's sanc- 
 tum, and was rather nervous in consequence. Sir 
 Henry was sitting writing at his table, and did not move. 
 
 " I am so sorry to disturb you," she said; " but can I 
 speak to you for a moment ? " 
 
 "I beg your pardon?" he said absently, stroking 
 the back of his head with his hand. Eleanor did not 
 notice this action, or she would have realized that he 
 was worried about something. 
 
 Eleanor crossed the room, and stood in front of 
 him, with the width of the table between them. 
 
 " Can I speak to you for a moment ? " she repeated 
 gently. 
 
 Sir Henry laid down his pen, and pushed his chair 
 back from the table. 
 
 " Certainly," he said. " What is it ? " 
 
 " It is about Jim and Mildred. No doubt you have 
 noticed Jim would like to see you in the morning, 
 to ask your consent to their engagement."
 
 WORDS AND THEIR MEANING 177 
 
 " My consent ! " he said quickly. " I shall most 
 certainly refuse ray consent to any such nonsense. 
 They are much too young. I had no idea of anything 
 of the kind." 
 
 " Jim is very fond of her," said Eleanor, shyly. 
 
 Something in his manner alarmed her, and she felt 
 she was not putting her case well. Sir Henry rose 
 suddenly. 
 
 " How does he know that ? What does a boy of 
 that age know of his feelings ? How does he know 
 whether she is a suitable woman to make a home for 
 him ? How does he know if he wants to be tied to 
 her for the rest of his life at his age ? No ! " he 
 said, with some heat, "I cannot give my consent." 
 He had grasped a letter in one hand, and was striking 
 it with the other to emphasize his words. " I do not 
 approve of early engagements. They have wrecked 
 men's lives before now." 
 
 His words, and the feeling with which they were 
 spoken, fell like blows upon Eleanor's heart. Her 
 face turned perfectly white, and for a moment the 
 whole room seemed to whirl round her, and she made 
 a clutch at the edge of the table for support. 
 
 Sir Henry sat down again. Slowly Eleanor turned 
 and walked towards the door. She was striving with 
 all her might to find words to speak. Mildred's dream 
 of love must not be shattered like this, if it was pos- 
 sible to help. She must make an effort to alter his
 
 178 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 decision. Her fingers had closed round the handle of 
 the door, when she turned, and stood, still holding it, 
 and half leaning against the door; her white face 
 and white frock outlined on the dark mahogany, a 
 bunch of violets lying like a blot upon her breast. 
 She always wore violets in these days. Sir Henry did 
 not look at her ; his thoughts were elsewhere. Pres- 
 ently she raised her head. 
 
 " There is something I must say," she said, rather 
 hoarsely, but quite distinctly, " and it is this. Do you 
 think that it is just to have had Jim Lucas here time 
 after time, when every one could see that he was in 
 love with Mildred, and then to refuse your consent ? 
 Would it not have been kinder to have forbidden it 
 months ago before Christmas ? You have tacitly 
 countenanced the affair until now, and now you would 
 refuse your consent. Is it just ? " 
 
 Then she turned and went out of the room. 
 
 "Eleanor," called Sir Henry, but she made no 
 answer, as she shut the door quietly behind her. 
 
 Sir Henry sat with his head on his hands for some 
 time. "Poor lad!" he said at last. "Poor lad!" 
 The letter he had been holding lay on the table be- 
 fore him. It had a deep border of black, and the 
 envelope which lay beside it bore the Australian post- 
 mark. 
 
 Sir Henry's thoughts were bitter ones. "Poor 
 Oscar Glyn," he was thinking ; " if ever there was a
 
 WOKDS AND THEIR MEANING 179 
 
 boy of promise, it was he. Oh ! I am right in con- 
 demning these early marriages. Look at him, married 
 at one and twenty to a pretty, feckless girl of seven- 
 teen, no money, no prospects." 
 
 He thought of the scenes he had witnessed the last 
 time he had ridden down to Glyn's small holding. 
 The poverty and untidiness visible on all sides. The 
 ailing drab of a woman, scarcely more than a girl, from 
 whose face every trace of comeliness had been erased 
 by ill health and discontent. He could see her plainly 
 now, standing in the dingy room with an infant in 
 her arms, while four other children crawled or sat 
 about on the floor. 
 
 And all the while Oscar Glyn struggling manfully 
 against overwhelming odds, against the knowledge 
 that the woman he had married was entirely unsuit- 
 able and unfit to be any help to him in his Colonial 
 life ; that what love she had professed for him had 
 not survived the first breath of discomfort. Could 
 he blame her, when he was conscious that his own 
 was waning? 
 
 All this he had confessed to Trevor who could 
 hear the man's broken voice echoing in his ears now. 
 And here to-day was the end. The ringing 
 down of the curtain Lights out ! A long summer 
 of drought and fever had put the coping-stone on 
 his misfortunes, and extinguished the last spark of 
 his courage ; and he had put a bullet through his brain.
 
 180 TKEVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 It was the piteous letter from the young widow 
 which had reached Trevor that evening. He had 
 been fond of Glyn, and had more than once helped 
 him financially since his return to England ; and at 
 this moment a stamped and addressed envelope lay 
 beside his cheque-book on the table. 
 
 Presently he rose, and began to pace up and down 
 the room, thinking of Eleanor's words ; and finally he 
 came to the conclusion that she was right. He had 
 been to blame in that he had not noticed the mean- 
 ing of Jim's visits. He had been much occupied ; 
 and although he had seen that he and Mildred were 
 frequently together, he had attached no importance 
 to it. Eleanor was right. If he had wished to 
 interfere, he should have done so sooner. Well ! 
 he would have a talk with the boy in the morning, 
 and thrash the matter out, and do his best for them. 
 Eleanor had seemed anxious about it. She was 
 evidently in favor of the marriage, and he would 
 very much like to do as she wished about it. She 
 had left the room hastily, he remembered ; he hoped 
 he had not spoken very abruptly, but his mind had 
 been full of the tragedy of Oscar Glyn's wrecked life. 
 
 "I hope I was not unkind about it," he said to 
 himself. " Is it possible that Eleanor was vexed 
 about it? I do trust not." 
 
 It never for one moment struck him that his words 
 might have held for his wife another and very
 
 WORDS AND THEIR MEANING 181 
 
 natural interpretation. He forgot that she knew 
 nothing of Oscar Glyn. He was one of those men 
 for whom their personal affairs are subject to no 
 criticism, and do not come within the range of any 
 argument. It would never have seemed possible 
 to him that his own engagement, dating from his 
 twenty-fourth year, could have been considered to be 
 a case in point. But he was conscious of a very 
 keen desire to do what Eleanor wished about it. 
 He would like to please her in this, as it seemed 
 that she had set her heart on it. He returned to 
 his writing with the determination to arrange the 
 affair in the best way, in the morning.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM 
 
 " But there's nothing half so sweet in life 
 As love's young dream." 
 
 MOORE. 
 
 " HE was awfully nice about it all," said Jim. 
 " In fact, he couldn't have been nicer. He said of 
 course that we must wait for Lady Vernon's per- 
 mission before announcing our engagement, but that 
 he would write to her to-day." 
 
 Jim and Mildred were walking up and down the 
 path under the great stone pine, and he was recount- 
 ing his interview with Sir Henry. 
 
 " Did Aunt Eleanor speak to him, I wonder?" said 
 Mildred. " I think she meant to ; but she seemed 
 so tired and silent this morning that I didn't like to 
 ask her. Oh, Jim! I was so afraid Uncle Henry 
 objected, and that she didn't like to tell me." 
 
 " It is quite all right, darling. There is nothing 
 to worry about. There is no earthly reason why 
 Lady Vernon should interfere. Oh, yes ! I am sure 
 Lady Trevor put in a good word for us, because Sir 
 Henry said she seemed in favour of our marriage. 
 You know the booky way he talks ! He said that 
 personally he was of opinion that we were too young, 
 
 182
 
 LOVE'S YOUNG DEEAM 183 
 
 and talked to me a lot about the necessity of our 
 thoroughly weighing the matter. He asked whether 
 we were sure we knew our own minds, and all that sort 
 of thing. As if there could be any doubt about 
 that ! " added Jim, with youthful scorn. " Then 
 he talked a little business, and I was able to satisfy 
 him about that. He really was awfully jolly at the 
 end. I liked his coming out to you in the hall, and 
 saying he hoped we should both be very happy, didn't 
 
 you?" 
 
 " I have always liked Uncle Henry, he has been so 
 kind to us since we came here. Of course he is very 
 quiet, and doesn't join much in the things we do, but 
 he never speaks crossly or worries. Now you would 
 never think twice about anything you wanted to say 
 to Aunt Eleanor. She would always understand ex- 
 actly what you meant. Jim! do you think your 
 people will be pleased ? " 
 
 " Silly little girl ! " he said tenderly. " How often 
 are you going to ask me that ? Of course they will 
 love you. They do already ! No one could help it. 
 Dear old Mum ! It seems rather a stupid thing to 
 say, but she would be pleased at anything I was 
 pleased at. Besides, they must have guessed how it 
 was." 
 
 " Dear old Jim ! " she said. " You are such a nice, 
 happy person. I wish I was more like you always 
 certain that everything is going to be all right."
 
 184 TKEVOR LOEDSHIP 
 
 " Oh, no, I'm not ! When I do get down in my 
 luck, I am down to the depths bed rock ! But now 
 I have got you, sweetheart, that is never going to 
 happen again. We shall be happy every day of our 
 lives. Now, dearest, the carriage will be round in 
 ten minutes. This is our good-bye, for I suppose I 
 must not kiss you at the station ! It might scandal- 
 ize the porters ! Not that I should care much," he 
 laughed in his frank, boyish way. " Good-bye, my 
 little wife that is to be. Remember we belong to 
 each other for always, and don't worry your dear 
 little head about anything." 
 
 " You will come back soon," she whispered. " The 
 time will be long until you come back." 
 
 " To-morrow if I possibly can ; if not, the next day." 
 
 They lingered over their last words, as lovers will, 
 all the world over, until Joan came flying down the 
 path at her usual breakneck pace. 
 
 " You must come, you two ! There's Dobbs just 
 getting on the box to drive round. Come along! 
 May I drive with you to the station ? " 
 
 " You may sit in front with Dobbs, and if you are 
 very good, perhaps he will let you hold the end of 
 the reins ! " said Jim. 
 
 " I don't want to hold the end of the reins ! I am 
 not a baby ! " returned Joan, with some heat. " Why, 
 I drove the pair all myself the other day, only that 
 was with William. I think," she added, dropping
 
 LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM 185 
 
 her voice confidentially, " that Dobbs is just a tiny 
 bit jealous ! He doesn't seem to like other people to 
 drive his horses while he is there. He must know 
 I can drive. I have told him I am quite to be 
 trusted." 
 
 " I think, on the whole, I rather agree with Dobbs," 
 laughed Jim. 
 
 Joan was in a great state of excitement over the 
 engagement, To have her beloved Jim as a real 
 brother was a truly delightful thing. The only point 
 which exercised her mind was, whether she should go 
 and live with them when they were married. If she 
 did so, it would mean leaving Uncle Henry and Aunt 
 Eleanor, and Dobbs! She felt torn both ways, but 
 Mildred assured her that there was no reason to de- 
 cide the question at present. 
 
 " I can't think what is the matter with Aunt 
 Eleanor," said Mildred, as they drove away. " She 
 does seem so unlike herself." 
 
 " Perhaps she has got a headache," suggested Jim. 
 Manlike, he felt that this was the explanation of 
 every feminine mood. 
 
 " Do you think she and Uncle Henry have had any 
 well disagreement ? I have never even heard 
 them contradict each other, so I hardly think it can 
 be that. I do hope she will be better to-morrow." 
 
 Jim was so full of high hopes and good spirits 
 that he really could not feel any interest even in
 
 186 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 Lady Trevor, whom he much admired. His whole 
 thoughts were of Mildred and their mutual happi- 
 ness, and their talk turned in that direction. 
 
 He had plenty of time to think during his journey 
 in the train. As he had said to Mildred, he had no 
 fears for the future. What should he fear ? His 
 parents were always ready to give him his own way ; 
 they had never denied him anything in his life ; there 
 was no reason to suppose that they would wish to 
 begin now. He knew his mother wanted him to 
 marry ; she had told him so repeatedly. 
 
 How odd, really, that Sir Henry had brought so 
 many arguments to bear against their engagement ! 
 He had not told Mildred all; but it was a fact. At 
 the commencement of their conversation he had 
 plainly said that he was inclined to disapprove ; and 
 yet as Jim had frankly answered his numerous ques- 
 tions, he had quite come round, and had finally been 
 " awfully nice about it." 
 
 " I expect we have to thank Lady Trevor for it, 
 really," he said to himself. " Why ! he was engaged 
 himself for many years, at least so I have heard, and 
 he isn't so wonderfully old now." And then he 
 thought of Mildred, and started building castles in 
 that enchanted land which man and maid enter hand 
 in hand with the first words of avowed love, and 
 where no one may follow, for it is Holy Ground. 
 
 Jim had only spoken the truth when he had said
 
 LOVE'S YOUNG DKEAM 187 
 
 to Eleanor that " it was always Mildred." Ever since 
 the day he had first seen her, a slight slip of a girl of 
 sixteen, old and perhaps grave beyond her years by 
 reason of her mothering of little Joan, he had thought 
 of no other woman. He had determined to win her 
 for his wife, and had set his face steadily towards the 
 goal of his hopes. He had lived for her, and for her 
 love ; and now it had been granted to him, and though 
 humble in his heart towards her, as all true lovers 
 should be, he was certain of his power to ensure her 
 future happiness. 
 
 He had realized that it would only be courting 
 opposition to propose to her before he was in an 
 independent position. His father had never stinted 
 him in the way of money, but Jim had liked to feel 
 that his own brain and hands would provide the 
 wherewithal to start his married life. He did not 
 wish to be entirely dependent, even on his father's 
 bounty, but now he had felt he could honestly ask 
 Mildred to share his lot. At the same time, he knew, 
 of course, that he might rely on his father to supply 
 the jam for the bread and butter ! 
 
 It was late that evening before he reached Wimble- 
 don, and the station fly turned into the gates of Mr. 
 Lucas's house, ( Grove Lodge.' It was approached by 
 the usual suburban carriage drive, bordered on either 
 side with shrubs. By dint of numerous turns and 
 twists, the ingenious person who had laid out the
 
 188 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 gardens had given more importance to the " drive " 
 than it deserved. The house stood within fifty yards 
 of the high road, but by dint of serpentine windings 
 round small plantations of evergreens and miniature 
 forests of larch-trees, the distance was trebled. In 
 fact, Mrs. Lucas considered it quite a long walk to 
 the gate. 
 
 The house itself was noticeable for want of taste 
 on the part of the builder. It was an example of 
 " early Victorian " ugliness inside and out, but un- 
 doubtedly well appointed and comfortable. Neat 
 little muslin blinds, with neat little brass strips at the 
 top of them, blinked like so many welcoming eyes from 
 its many windows. The substantial porch possessed 
 the most elaborate appliances, which dumbly insisted 
 that no one would be so thoughtless as to take any 
 mud on to the spotless doorstep, while the large 
 cocoanut mat displayed the magic word SALVE, in 
 bold red letters. Even Mrs. Lucas's hospitable mind 
 could think of nothing further to provide for the 
 comfort of her guests. 
 
 As Jim entered, his father walked out to meet him, 
 already dressed for dinner. He was a big, broad- 
 shouldered man, with a snow-white beard and hair, 
 and a kindly expression. Although nearly seventy, 
 he held himself very erect, as if the years weighed 
 but lightly on him. 
 
 " There you are, my boy," he said, " just in time
 
 LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM 189 
 
 for dinner ! Hurry up and have a wash; you needn't 
 dress. Mother is glad to have you back again." 
 
 " Right you are ! I shan't be a minute," responded 
 Jim, as he ran up the stairs two steps at a time. 
 
 Mr. Lucas rejoined his wife. 
 
 "He's come, Mother!" he said cheerfully, "alive 
 and well. No railway accidents, and no runaway 
 horses!" 
 
 Mrs. Lucas hoisted herself from the depths of a huge 
 saddle-bag arm-chair. 
 
 " Well ! " she said, panting slightly, " you never know, 
 do you ? People want to go so fast these days that 
 things are always happening. I never look in the 
 papers without seeing that some one has been killed, 
 and I always think it might be Jim ! It is enough to 
 make any one nervous. There!" she said, "come 
 along, Father, I'm ready ! " 
 
 One of the chief sorrows of Mrs. Lucas's later life 
 was her excessive size. She was enormously stout ; 
 and this, combined with a rheumatic tendency, made 
 her movements slow and difficult. She fondly hoped 
 that her deliberate progression gave an idea of dignity ; 
 but she was exceedingly good-natured, and was quite 
 ready to laugh at herself, as a cushion, and a moun- 
 tain, and other such playful terms. 
 
 By the tune she had reached the door, Jim arrived, 
 and she folded him to her capacious bosom with de- 
 monstrative affection. Then they proceeded to din-
 
 190 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 ner, and during the meal she plied him with questions 
 as to his doings, his health, etc. 
 
 It was not until the dessert had been placed on the 
 table, and the servants had left the room, that he was 
 able to impart the great news that trembled on his 
 lips. He began to feel a little nervous about it. The 
 thought struck him that never again would they three 
 sit there, as they had sat for so many years, all family 
 ties complete in one another. His heart and life 
 would be elsewhere. It seemed suddenly hard on the 
 old parents. He hesitated for a choice of words, and 
 then he said : - 
 
 " I have something to tell you dear people. I know 
 you will be pleased at my happiness, and I am very, 
 very happy. Mildred has promised to marry me." 
 
 " Dearest boy !" ejaculated his mother. " I am de- 
 lighted; I can't tell you how delighted I am." 
 
 Jim looked at his father, waiting for him to speak. 
 Mr. Lucas's eyes were fixed upon his wife with an in- 
 scrutable expression. 
 
 "You are very young, my boy," he said at last. 
 " It is a great responsibility." 
 
 " I know," said Jim, gravely. " I have thought of 
 all that. Sir Henry Trevor said I was too young at 
 first; but afterwards he gave his consent. I do hope 
 you will do the same, Father," he asked, anxiously. 
 
 "I am very fond of Mildred," said the old man. 
 " You should be proud to have won her."
 
 LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM 191 
 
 " Dear child !" murmured Mrs. Lucas. 
 
 " I am proud, more proud than I can say. We love 
 each other, and I think I can make her happy; that 
 is the chief thing." 
 
 "Well, well!" said his father, "I had no idea that 
 you were old enough to think of being married. The 
 years pass so quickly. Perhaps I ought to have fore- 
 seen this." 
 
 " Young people will be young people," said Mrs. Lu- 
 cas, with a beaming smile; " and I must say there is 
 no one I should have liked better for your wife than 
 Mildred, whom I have known from a child." 
 
 " I was sure you would be pleased. Mildred was 
 wondering how you would welcome her, but I knew 
 you loved her already." 
 
 "When do you think of being married ? " 
 
 "As soon as possible," replied Jim, promptly. 
 " There is no reason why we should wait, that I can 
 see." 
 
 " You'll come and live close to us, won't you ?" she 
 suggested. " There is a nice little house in Cecil Road 
 to be let, not ten minutes' walk from here. I saw the 
 board up this morning, and Mrs. Davies, who was 
 having tea with me, told me she knew of a very good 
 cook wanting a situation. I'll write to her to-morrow." 
 
 Jim laughed, and his father said : 
 
 " Wait a little, Mother. You are going too fast ! 
 The date isn't fixed yet."
 
 192 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 " Lady Vernon must be consulted first," said Jim. 
 " She is Mildred's other guardian, you know ; but I 
 hope she will be nice about it." 
 
 " I don't see how she can be otherwise," declared 
 Mrs. Lucas, bridling like an old hen whose chicken 
 has been attacked. " You will have plenty to keep 
 a wife, and you have known Mildred for years. 
 What more can a woman want ? " 
 
 " Well, my boy," said his father, rising, " I approve 
 of your choice, and agree with Mother that you 
 couldn't have done better. I own I was surprised at 
 first, for we old folks don't always see that the young 
 ones are growing up." 
 
 Mrs. Lucas was already furnishing her son's house 
 in her own mind. " There's that blue dinner service," 
 she said to herself, as she rolled into the drawing-room ; 
 " Jim always has been fond of that. Old things are 
 better than you can buy nowadays ; that will do 
 them nicely. Then there's a pile of good table-cloths 
 I have got put away, double damask, they are, with 
 never a sign of wear." When she reached her chair, 
 she took a piece of paper and a pencil from a table 
 beside her, and began to make elaborate calculations, 
 as to what domestic articles would be required for 
 the new house. 
 
 Jim and Mr. Lucas laughed when they saw her 
 occupation, but she answered good-humouredly : 
 
 " Ah ! this is the mother's job. Who is to do it
 
 LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM 193 
 
 for you, if I don't ! The silver we started with will 
 do them nicely for a while. They could have that, 
 couldn't they, Father ? Jim would like to have what 
 we started with ourselves." 
 
 " We shall not get a word out of her, Jim," said 
 his father, still laughing. " We'll go and have our 
 talk out in the library," and taking his son's arm, he 
 marched him off, leaving the old lady to her plans 
 for the future.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 A BOLT FROM THE BLUE 
 
 " I am not now 
 That which I have been." 
 
 BYRON, Childe Harold. 
 
 "AT what time did you leave 'Trevor Lordship'?" 
 asked Mr. Lucas, as they lit their cigars, and sat down 
 in his comfortable room. 
 
 " About twelve o'clock," returned Jim. " They've 
 put on a good train now in the middle of the day." 
 
 " How odd it seems ! Why, I remember, when I 
 was a young man, before I left England, if you 
 wanted to get to Larnham, you had to take the coach 
 at Townborough, where the junction is now. No one 
 thought of the railway being carried farther in those 
 days. Did you touch upon money matters in your 
 conversation with Sir Henry ? " 
 
 " I told him a certain amount, what you allowed 
 me, and what I drew from the firm. He seemed to 
 be quite satisfied. I didn't know what you would be 
 prepared to do in the way of settlements." 
 
 Mr. Lucas took out a pencil, and jotted down some 
 figures on his shirt-cuff. 
 
 "Roughly speaking, about thirty thousand. I 
 
 194
 
 A BOLT EEOM THE BLUE 195 
 
 should think you could settle about thirty thou- 
 sand." 
 
 " It's awfully good of you," said Jim, gratefully. 
 
 " I believe in making a good provision," replied 
 his father; and then he plunged still further into 
 financial details. 
 
 "I've very nearly unloaded in British Columbia 
 now, and put it all into securities at home. I don't 
 want any anxiety about money in my old age. The 
 business is right enough, and will go on paying just 
 as long as you have honest agents, and no longer. I 
 have sometimes thought of sending you over there ; 
 but I didn't want to part with you. So I made a 
 little pile outside, which will be plenty for you and 
 yours. Things have altered since I was young. I 
 can't keep up with the rush now, so I am glad to 
 stay safely outside it. But there will be plenty for 
 you. I've tied it up quite tight." 
 
 Jim tried to keep his thoughts on the subject on 
 hand, but all the while they were flying back to 
 Mildred. His mother's words had brought things 
 very near to him. He could hardly believe in his 
 great happiness. Was it true that the little home 
 she had spoken of would really soon exist ? He had 
 no idea that it was possible to feel so happy. The 
 world had always been a jolly good place, but now it 
 was flooded with a golden light ; not one thing would 
 he wish different.
 
 196 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 Then he came back to the present, to find that his 
 father had ceased speaking, and was sitting with his 
 hands on his knees in an attitude of abstraction. It 
 was not his wont to look so serious, and Jim felt a 
 little surprised. There was something unusual in his 
 expression. 
 
 " I can't thank you enough, father," he said. 
 "You are awfully kind." 
 
 Mr. Lucas made no reply, but after a while he 
 rose, and relighted his cigar, which had gone out. 
 Then he turned, and threw his head up with the 
 sudden action of a man who has come to a decision, 
 and said quickly : 
 
 " There is something I think I ought to tell you, 
 Jim. I have wished to do so several times in your 
 life, but I have allowed myself to be overruled by 
 your mother. I think if I had realized that you were 
 old enough to think of matrimony, I should have in- 
 sisted upon telling you before. Not that it is any- 
 thing that will make the slightest difference to your 
 life or your prospects ; I can promise you that ; but I 
 think you ought to know." 
 
 "What is it?" asked Jim, nervously. He wished 
 his father would come to the point, but the old man 
 seemed to find a difficulty in doing so. 
 
 " I can promise you it will make no difference in 
 your prospects," he repeated. " I have made my will 
 most carefully, and provided for every contingency."
 
 A BOLT FROM THE BLUE 197 
 
 " Can't you tell me what it is ? " 
 
 Jim was trying to shake off a feeling of dread, a 
 premonition of coming trouble which was creeping 
 over him. Again there was a pause. Mr. Lucas 
 stood holding his cigar and gazing at the end of it 
 as if to draw inspiration from its smouldering heart. 
 Then he said slowly : 
 
 " You are my adopted son." 
 
 " What in the world do you mean?" Jim thought 
 for a moment that his father had lost his reason. 
 
 " You are my adopted son," he said again. " The 
 circumstances were as follows. We came back 
 from British Columbia in 1880. Your mother had 
 never borne a child, could never bear one ; and was 
 half broken-hearted about it. We had only been 
 home a few days, and were staying at an hotel 
 near Victoria Station, when we were awaked by a 
 cry of fire. We dressed and went out. It was a 
 house in Ebury Street which was burning. You 
 were saved, and we took you home with us. Every 
 one else was burned, and the house was completely 
 gutted. I advertised, and did all I could to find 
 your relatives, but without success. Your mother 
 and nurse were believed to have been among the 
 victims of the disaster; but beyond that, I know 
 nothing." 
 
 Jim sat staring at the speaker. His face had 
 turned very white.
 
 198 TREVOR, LORDSHIP 
 
 " Then who am I ? " he asked, in a curiously 
 strained voice. 
 
 " You are my dearly loved son," said the old man, 
 stoutly, "just as you have been all along." 
 
 The solid ground seemed to be crumbling away 
 beneath Jim's feet ; he was vainly trying to regain 
 his balance. Where was he? Who was he? He 
 couldn't understand. He hardly heard the speaker 
 in the tumult of his mind. 
 
 " We had only just come back from abroad," con- 
 tinued Mr. Lucas ; " and no one among our few 
 friends ever doubted but what you were our own son, 
 born while we were out there. Among the hotel 
 people and the police who knew, of course, it was 
 a nine days' wonder, and then forgotten. I provided 
 for the burial of the poor dead, and a few days after- 
 wards a man brought us a desk which had been 
 saved from the room where you were found. It 
 was quite empty ; the contents had evidently been 
 stolen. I have all the papers which reported the 
 affair ; you can see them if you like." 
 
 And still the same question was beating like a 
 hammer in Jim's brain : " Who am I ? Who am I ? " 
 He looked wildly round the familiar room ; he had no 
 business to be there ! He was an interloper ! His 
 eyes fell upon a large print of Frith' s ' Derby Day,' 
 which hung over the mantelpiece. The picture had 
 held a peculiar fascination for him ever since he could
 
 A BOLT FROM THE BLUE 199 
 
 remember, particularly the little figure in the fore- 
 ground. Ah ! that was it ! A mountebank ! A 
 nameless mountebank, that was what he was. Play- 
 ing a part pretending to be the only son of a rich, 
 respectable father, when all the time he hadn't even 
 a name of his own ! He rose from his chair, clutch- 
 ing at the arm of it to steady himself as he did so. 
 
 " I wish to God you had left me in the gutter 
 where I belonged ! " he said fiercely, between his 
 clenched teeth. 
 
 For a moment the old man recoiled at the bitter- 
 ness in his tone, then he laid his hand gently on his 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Boy ! Boy ! " he said soothingly, " what has come 
 over you .? Don't say a thing like that. You are my 
 dearly loved son ; nothing can alter that." 
 
 " It is a lie ! " cried Jim, furiously. " You ! calling 
 yourself an honest man, have brought me up never 
 to tell a lie ; and all the time you were living one, 
 and letting me live one. Letting me masquerade as 
 the son of a gentleman, when all the time I am a 
 nameless nobody. Letting me win Mildred's love 
 under false pretences. Oh, God ! " 
 
 He threw himself down again in his chair, and 
 buried his face in his hands. Mr. Lucas tottered 
 where he stood, and feebly passed his hand across his 
 eyes as if to brush away some delusion. He had 
 grown ten years older in as many minutes.
 
 200 TKEVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 " You are my son," he repeated stubbornly. " My 
 dearly loved son." 
 
 They sat there, as they had sat so often, on either 
 side of the familiar hearth, they who, in spite of 
 the disparity in their ages, had been such friends, 
 such pals, divided now by a gulf of misery which 
 yawned at their feet. The clock ticked the leaden 
 minutes with slow deliberation, until sixty of them 
 had been recorded. Neither spoke. Then Jim 
 rose. 
 
 " Good-night," he said formally, and walked tow- 
 ards the door. 
 
 " Jim ! " cried the old man. " Jim ! don't go like 
 that ! " 
 
 For a second the ghost of a smile crossed Jim's 
 face, such a wan, heart-broken attempt at reassur- 
 ance, but he spoke no word, and the door shut with 
 a dull, hopeless reverberation. 
 
 He passed up the stairs, and entered his room. 
 Without turning on the light, he flung himself face 
 downwards on the bed. Then something gave way 
 in his brain, and in the quiet of the dark room there 
 came the dreadful sound of a man's uncontrollable 
 sobbing. Where were his dreams for the future ? 
 Withered and dead as last year's roses. What of 
 that little house which had filled his thoughts (al- 
 ready it seemed years ago) ? already it had fallen to 
 its very foundations, as a house built upon the sand.
 
 A BOLT FROM THE BLUE 201 
 
 He had been so proud of his father, so proud of his 
 line of sturdy, North Country ancestors not nobly 
 born, it is true but honest, God-fearing gentlemen, 
 such as have been for centuries the backbone of Eng- 
 land and he had no part or lot in them ! Only one 
 thing stood out clear among chaos, and that was 
 that in honour he must give up all thought of Mil- 
 dred. He had not even a name to give her. He 
 might even be base-born ! he ground his teeth to- 
 gether at the thought. No, they must part his 
 dream was shattered ; he must get used to the idea. 
 Her love must be put on one side, with all the other 
 precious things of the past. Her beauty was not 
 for him. Those sweet intimacies of married life 
 which he had dared to picture could never, never 
 be. He must see her once more, he must hold her 
 once more in his arms, and then he must go out into 
 the darkness alone. 
 
 Mrs. Lucas came to the end of her pleasant task, 
 and, glancing at the clock, discovered that the hour 
 was past 'eleven. Hoisting herself to her feet, she 
 proceeded to the library door, where she listened for 
 a moment. She did not wish to disturb a private 
 conversation, although in her opinion it had lasted 
 long enough. There was no sound to be heard, and 
 she walked in. 
 
 " Why, Father ! " she cried, at the sight of her hus-
 
 202 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 band; "are you ill? And wherever is Jim? My 
 dear, my dear ! whatever is the matter ? " 
 
 The old man slowly raised his lined face. 
 
 " I have told him," he said simply ; " and he has 
 taken it badly." 
 
 "Told him what?" 
 
 " Told him of his adoption." 
 
 Every trace of colour faded from Mrs. Lucas's 
 large, round face. 
 
 " You have told him ! " she stammered. " How 
 could you be so cruel ? " 
 
 " It was right to tell him," protested the old man 
 feebly ; " and it can't make any difference." 
 
 " What did he say ? " enquired his wife in a fright- 
 ened whisper. 
 
 " He said, i I wish to God you had left me in the 
 gutter where I belonged.' ' 
 
 Mrs. Lucas gave a moaning cry. Slowly her eyes 
 filled ; the large, fat tears coursed one another down 
 the terraces of her many chins, and splashed, un- 
 heeded, on her black satin bosom. She raised no 
 hand to wipe them away. 
 
 " You have done a cruel thing," she moaned, in 
 broken accents. " Oh, Frederick ! Frederick ! he was 
 mine, my very own ; and you have taken him away 
 from me. He knew no mother but me ! I have 
 nursed him, and fondled him, and prayed for him, 
 and reared him. The other woman only bore him !
 
 A BOLT FROM THE BLUE 208 
 
 What is a year or two of babyhood against all the 
 precious time of childhood and boyhood ? He is mine 
 - my very own ! " 
 
 " I did not know he would take it like this," said 
 Mr. Lucas, in a quavering voice. 
 
 The two old people gazed at each other through a 
 mist of tears. 
 
 "I shall go to him," she said at last. "He has 
 always wanted me in his little troubles." 
 
 She pulled herself up the stairs with infinite diffi- 
 culty one step at a time. It was the first time she 
 could remember for years that either Jim or Frederick 
 had not helped her up in the evening; and all the 
 while she was thinking thinking. 
 
 She turned towards her boy's 'room, and then 
 changed her mind, and entered her own. " The 
 beads are prickly to the face," she murmured, as she 
 divested herself of her elaborate dress, all satin and 
 bugles and jet, and arrayed herself in a soft old 
 wadded silk dressing-gown. It was very unbecom- 
 ing, but it had associations ; trouble and sickness had 
 always been comforted in the old red dressing-gown. 
 That tear on the breast, which showed plainly in spite 
 of careful darning, had been made by Jim's teeth, 
 when they had set his leg four years before ! He 
 had, as she had said, always wanted her in his little 
 troubles. 
 
 All the mother love was fiercely awake in the heart
 
 204 TKEVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 of the woman, transfiguring her plain, homely face 
 with a new power, which was near akin to the Divine. 
 
 The inscrutable wisdom of God had ordained that 
 she, endowed beyond most women with the capacity 
 for maternal affection, should be barren; but to her 
 starved heart and empty arms He had sent this little 
 child. If she had borne him, he could not be more 
 hers ; she had told herself this over and over again in 
 the first great joy of his possession ; for had she not 
 been singled out of all the women in the world to 
 mother him ? 
 
 He was her baby ; no one should take him from 
 her. She would fight the world for him, if needs be, 
 but she would keep him. God give her strength to 
 keep him ! She was praying with all her soul as she 
 made her slow way along the corridor, and without 
 knocking, turned the handle and entered his room. 
 She turned on one shaded light, and glanced towards 
 the bed where Jim was lying, motionless, inert, spent 
 with the storm of emotion through which he had 
 passed. She did not speak, but struck a match and 
 lit the fire ; the nights were chilly still, and she knew 
 that what must be spoken between them could not 
 be said in an hour, or even two. When the blaze had 
 fairly started, she pushed a sofa up near the hearth, 
 and having thus completed her preparations, she 
 moved towards the bed. 
 
 Jim's face was hidden on his folded arms, and she
 
 A BOLT FROM THE BLUE 205 
 
 laid her hand on his head, gently stroking the rumpled 
 hair with a loving touch. Presently he moved a 
 little. 
 
 " It is mother," she said softly. 
 
 He raised a drawn, white face. 
 
 " You are not my mother," he said huskily ; and his 
 face went down again with a groan. The iron had 
 entered deep. 
 
 The old lady did not reply. She was praying that 
 she might be guided in her choice of words. She con- 
 tinued the soothing movement with her hand for a 
 while, and then she said : 
 
 " You are cold, dear lad ; will you not come to the 
 fire ? There are things I must say to you." 
 
 Gently, and with loving words, she roused him, and 
 drew him to the sofa, where they sat down side by 
 side. 
 
 " Boy," she said, reverting to the old name of child- 
 hood, " we have done you wrong. I see it now ; but 
 will you hear my story before you turn from me? I 
 had been married nearly twenty years, and we loved 
 each other truly, my husband and I ; but we had no 
 child. Night and day I stormed the doors of Heaven 
 with my prayers, but without avail. I do not know 
 how much you have been told, so I will tell the 
 story in my own way. 
 
 "Soon after we arrived in England from British 
 Columbia I saw a doctor, who told me I could never
 
 206 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 have a child ; and I think I went nearly mad with 
 grief. One night, when I was lying worn out in my 
 bed at the hotel, I heard a cry of l Fire,' and started 
 up in fear. Father woke, and we ran to the window. 
 We could see a house blazing a little way away. I 
 could not tell what drove me, but I had to go ; even 
 Father could not stay me, though I was weak and ill; 
 but when I saw you carried down the ladder from the 
 blazing house, just as the roof fell in, I knew that 
 God had sent me in answer to my prayer. Father 
 told me afterwards that I fought my way through 
 the crowd like a mad woman, until I had you in my 
 arms, and my empty heart was filled. 
 
 " We thought you were about four years old ; and 
 you were very ill for a long time, but gradually you 
 grew strong, and brave, and beautiful. I had only 
 one terror, and that was, that some one might claim 
 you ; but it faded as the months went by without a 
 word. Father thought it right to advertise, but no 
 one answered. You could not speak, and seemed 
 to remember nothing; the doctors said it was the 
 shock. 
 
 " We taught you from the beginning, from your 
 first lisping word ; and ever since then you have been 
 my own child, my very own God-sent child. Can you 
 understand that, my darling ? " 
 
 Jim said no word, and made no movement. 
 
 "When you went to school," she continued, "your
 
 A BOLT FEOM THE BLUE 207 
 
 father wished to tell you, but I begged him not. I 
 had almost persuaded myself that you were mine in 
 very truth, and he gave in. He would never have 
 told you to-night, but that he has grown feeble of late. 
 I have noticed it in many ways ; he is not the man he 
 was, and he did not understand. 
 
 " The wrong to you was not in keeping silence, but, 
 having kept silence for so long, to have spoken now. 
 Father did not understand; he thought it could make 
 no difference." 
 
 " Make no difference ! " said Jim, suddenly. " No 
 difference ! Oh, no, only the difference between 
 Heaven and Hell ! " 
 
 " Why so ?" she asked quietly. 
 
 " Because I have lost everything I held dear my 
 love my name everything. How can I marry 
 Mildred now ? " 
 
 " You must tell her, of course ; but having told her 
 honestly, it will make no difference to her love. You 
 may be sure of that." 
 
 " But how can I, in honour, ask her to share my 
 life, when I don't even know who I am ? " 
 
 " You are not going to proclaim that upon the 
 housetop," was the shrewd reply. " You will have 
 the same position as you have always had ; the same 
 position you had when you won her." 
 
 " Oh, no ! " interrupted Jim. 
 
 " And anyway, you are a gentleman ; that is plainly
 
 208 TREVOR, LORDSHIP 
 
 to be seen on the face of you, an honest, upright 
 gentleman, as God made you." 
 
 " I cannot marry her until I have at least a name 
 to offer her." 
 
 "You have a very good name which was given 
 you at your baptism ; it is your own." Mrs. Lucas 
 was fighting every inch of the way. " Mildred loves 
 you, and all will be well." 
 
 " I will find out the truth," Jim broke out hotly. 
 " There must be some clue, some means of finding out." 
 
 " I am afraid not," she said. 
 
 "There was a desk, wasn't there? Can I see it? 
 Does it tell you nothing ? " 
 
 " I will fetch it," she said, rising. 
 
 She returned presently with it in her hands, and 
 seated herself as before. It was an old-fashioned box 
 of inlaid rosewood, bound with brass. It opened to 
 a slant. Mrs. Lucas unlocked it. 
 
 "I had the key fitted," she explained. "It was 
 empty and broken when it came. The fireman said 
 it was in the room where you were found." She 
 took out a bundle of newspaper cuttings. " These 
 are the accounts of the fire ; they are very short ; you 
 can read them by and by. There was one piece of 
 writing which I didn't find until a long time after, 
 between the blotting-paper. I said nothing about it, 
 for it seemed unimportant, and also perhaps I dreaded 
 the whole discussion should be renewed. Here it is."
 
 A BOLT FEOM THE BLUE 209 
 
 It was a single sheet of thin foreign note-paper, 
 bearing some lines of writing in a fine feminine hand. 
 The ink was faded, but the words were legible. 
 
 November 20th, 1880. 
 
 MY VERT DEAR HUSBAND, I must add a few lines to my 
 budget. I have reached London safely, and went to an Hotel, 
 but left at once, as I heard they had a case of smallpox. These 
 lodgings will do very well for two or three days, until we go 
 West. The new nurse is pleasant, and Baby seems already 
 better for the change of air. I think of you always, dear 
 husband ; the days of separation are so long. I long to hear 
 from you, but know it is impossible. All these letters will be 
 sent so as to reach you when the . . . breaks. 
 
 Good-night. 
 
 " I can't read the word before ' breaks ' ; can you ? " 
 said Jim. 
 
 " No; I have never been able to make it out. You 
 see, there is nothing that can be called a clue." 
 
 " My mother must have written this." 
 
 Mrs. Lucas winced. There had been times when 
 jealousy of the unknown woman had eaten into her 
 heart's core; she felt the old wound even now, but 
 she answered steadily : 
 
 " Yes, that must have been written by your 
 mother." 
 
 " Was there no mark on my clothes ? " 
 
 " You had only a flannel night-gown. I have it 
 now; there was no mark." 
 
 He unfolded the papers, and read the contents.
 
 210 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 The accounts were meagre; the affair had evidently 
 roused no particular interest. It mentioned that 
 through the kindness of a private gentleman, the 
 dead had been interred and the sole survivor provided 
 for. There were three women burnt, presumably 
 the mother, the nurse, and the landlady, Mrs. Wil- 
 liams. The servant slept out. The bodies could not 
 be identified. 
 
 "It was nearly twenty years ago," said Mrs. Lucas. 
 " if it was not possible to find out anything then, it 
 will be doubly impossible now." 
 
 " I must find out," said Jim, grimly. " All my 
 happiness depends on it. I have lost everything. 
 You don't understand." 
 
 The despair in his voice broke down her self-control. 
 
 " Oh, Boy, Boy ! " she cried, in passionate appeal, 
 " never doubt our love whatever happens, never 
 doubt our love. We are the same as we always 
 have been, and always will be, Father and I. 
 All our hopes and all our love are centred in you. 
 My dear ! my dear ! don't turn from us now ! " 
 
 Her words pierced through the fog w^hich seemed to 
 be clouding Jim's brain. It was true. He knew it. 
 She had given him a mother's love ; no mother could 
 have loved more fondly or have been more fondly 
 loved ; and she could never change. Here was one 
 piece of solid ground among the chaos. He turned 
 with a quick, boyish gesture, and threw his arm
 
 A BOLT FROM THE BLUE 211 
 
 round her, while from his lips came the word for which 
 her whole heart was hungering. 
 
 " Mother ! " he cried. " Mother ! " 
 
 She drew his head down until it rested on her 
 breast. 
 
 " My son ! " she murmured, with infinite tenderness. 
 " Always my dear, dear son." 
 
 The first pale gleams of the dawn were stealing 
 into the room before they rose. Comfort had come 
 to Jim's soul, such comfort as only a mother can give. 
 He felt calm and strengthened. 
 
 They had discussed the matter from every side, 
 over and over again, quietly and systematically. He 
 saw his way clearly before him now, and in the dis- 
 tance, the very far distance, gleamed one little ray of 
 hope. He was unaltered in his decision that he must 
 give Mildred back her promise ; that he felt bound in 
 honour to do ; but in his heart of hearts he knew that 
 love would triumph over difficulty, that some day the 
 clouds would break, and the sun would shine again. 
 How, he did not know ; but he would live for that 
 day, in the present darkness. 
 
 " Dear Mother, you must go," he said at last 
 tenderly. "I cannot, will not, try to thank you for 
 what you have done for me to-night. Let me help 
 you to your room." 
 
 He did so, and she kissed and blessed him sol- 
 emnly as they parted, for she knew that he was hers.
 
 212 TKEVOR LOEDSHIP 
 
 in very truth he was hers, but with this difference : 
 he was a man now, a boy no longer. And while her 
 whole soul was uplifted with thankfulness that all 
 was well between them, and she rejoiced in the 
 strength of the man ; yet, woman-like, she wept a 
 little for the boy whom she adored, and who was 
 gone from her, never to return.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE MISSING WORD 
 
 " White as a white sail on a dusky sea 
 When half the horizon's clouded, and half free," 
 Fluttering between the dun wave and the sky, 
 Is hope's last gleam in man's extremity." 
 
 BYRON. 
 
 " HAVE you heard from Jim, Mildred ? " asked Sir 
 Henry. 
 
 It was after dinner the next evening, and they 
 were all seated in the drawing-room. 
 
 " No ! " said Mildred. " I thought I should have 
 had a telegram. He said that perhaps he might not 
 be able to come until to-morrow." 
 
 " You will have a letter in the morning," said Miss 
 Price, consolingly. " Engagements are a great source 
 of income to the Inland Revenue ! I'll be bound you 
 wrote to him to-day. Now, didn't you?" 
 
 Mildred blushed happily. 
 
 "Well! Yes, I did." ' 
 
 " Then it would certainly be a pity if he had come 
 to-day, and missed the letter ! " laughed the old lady. 
 
 Her merriment was a little forced, but it passed 
 unnoticed. She was racking her brains to find a 
 reason for a certain change which had taken place in 
 Eleanor. It was rather a subtle change, but plainly 
 
 213
 
 214 TEEVOE LOKDSHIP 
 
 visible to her loving eyes; for instead of the new 
 brightness and animation which Eleanor had shown 
 of late, she had relapsed into something akin to her 
 former state of chilly, self-controlled calm. She 
 seemed to be putting a strong restraint upon herself, 
 as if she were determined to act in everything in her 
 usual natural way. If anything had occurred to 
 distress her, and Miss Price felt sure that this was the 
 case, she was evidently forcing herself to disregard it. 
 Her friend could not form any idea as to the trouble ; 
 she had asked if she felt indisposed, and had received 
 the answer, " Thank you, I am perfectly well," given 
 in such a tone as prohibited further enquiries. Miss 
 Price was not a woman to force confidences, and had 
 perforce to contain her anxiety as best she might. 
 
 Eleanor had seemed both surprised and relieved 
 when Mildred had told her of Sir Henry's consent to 
 their engagement.' She could not understand his 
 volte-face after his words to her, but that did not 
 prevent her being very thankful at the course events 
 had taken. 
 
 Sir Henry and Captain Maitland, who was dining 
 there that night, were indulging in political argument. 
 The radical ideas which the former had held in his 
 young days had been considerably modified by the 
 passage of time; but he laughingly refused to enlist 
 under the banner of any party, and this attitude was 
 the cause of many a hot discussion. The Captain
 
 THE MISSING WORD 215 
 
 called himself a staunch Conservative, and was al- 
 ways ready to do battle with any one who could not, 
 or would not, accept his views en bloc. 
 
 " You want to throw all legislative power into the 
 hands of the masses," he was saying. "It won't do, 
 Trevor ; it won't do." 
 
 " It is only fair that the larger proportion of the 
 community should have a large share in the manage- 
 ment of it," said Sir Henry, good-humouredly. 
 
 " Not a bit of it ! " was the retort. " They don't 
 know what to do with power when they have got it. 
 They've never been used to it; they weren't in- 
 tended for it; they don't know what to do with it. 
 Why ! my dear fellow ! you've only got to look 
 round you. If you were a large employer of labour, 
 you'd be able to tell me how many men, out of, say, 
 six hundred, were fit to wield power over their fellows. 
 Promote a man from the ranks, and he is either weak 
 or a bully." 
 
 " History contradicts your statements," argued Sir 
 Henry. " How many leaders of men have been of 
 humble birth and extraction ? " 
 
 " I grant you there is always the exception that 
 proves the rule," replied the Captain. He was con- 
 stitutionally unable to acknowledge defeat. " But 
 their number is so small that it would never warrant 
 throwing the country into the hands of the populace. 
 If any are endowed with sufficient brain to rise from
 
 216 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 the ruck, let them come to the top. We'll be glad to 
 acknowledge them when they arrive. Oh, no, no! 
 the ambition for personal power, and the love of 
 wielding it, is the curse of England to-day. It breeds 
 a class of agitators." 
 
 " I don't think I should mind them having power 
 if they didn't use it in such a disagreeable way," said 
 Miss Price. " But they do like to show off. Only 
 last week, in London, I was hurried down a long flight 
 of steps at an underground station ; the train was just 
 coming in, and I had ample time, but just as I got to 
 the bottom, the man shut the door in my face. There 
 was I, caged, the train standing opposite, and the man 
 grinning in triumph ! I wouldn't bandy words with 
 
 him, but when a gentleman beside me said, ( D ,' 
 
 I turned and thanked him effusively. I really couldn't 
 help it!" 
 
 "Insolent!" fumed Captain Maitland, while the 
 others laughed. "There was the petty official ex- 
 hibiting his power; he had got us, and he knew it." 
 
 " He must have been a disagreeable person, but 
 that does not condemn his class," said Sir Henry. 
 
 Captain Maitland was bringing reserves to the 
 attack, when the door opened suddenly, and Jim 
 entered. Mildred jumped up with a welcoming cry. 
 
 " How did you get here ? " " Have you had some 
 dinner ? " " Why didn't you send a telegram ?" were 
 the questions which greeted him.
 
 THE MISSING WORD 217 
 
 " I bicycled from Larnham," Jim said quietly. 
 "I am sorry I did not let you know. I could not 
 get away until this afternoon." 
 
 " Well ! What did your father say to your good 
 news ? " asked Sir Henry. 
 
 Jim hesitated. For a moment his eyes went from 
 one to the other, as if seeking for help. Miss Price 
 rose. 
 
 "If you will come into the morning room with me, 
 Captain Maitland, we will marshal our arguments so 
 that our concerted attack will rout Sir Henry next 
 time," and they walked to the door. 
 
 " No ! " said Jim, suddenly. " Please do not go. 
 There is no need. You have been very kind to me, 
 and I should like you to know." 
 
 Sir Henry and Eleanor had drawn closer, a deep 
 anxiety to be seen on their faces. 
 
 " Tell us, my boy," he said kindly. " What is it ? " 
 
 " I am not my father's son. I have come to tell 
 you and to give you back your promise, Mildred," 
 he added, turning to the girl. " I have no name. I 
 do not know who I am." 
 
 For a second she looked at him, all her heart in 
 her eyes, then she ran to him, and, throwing her arms 
 round his neck, " Jim ! " she said, " you stupid old 
 Jim ! As if that could possibly make any difference ! 
 Uncle Henry ! Aunt Eleanor ! Help me to make 
 him understand that it can't make any difference ! "
 
 218 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 Jim gently released her, and put her away from 
 him. 
 
 " Wait until you have heard all about it," he said. 
 
 " Come and sit down, dear child," said Eleanor. 
 " Let Jim tell his story in his own way." 
 
 She took the girl's hand, and held it in a reassur- 
 ing clasp, as she drew her down on a sofa. 
 
 And Jim began slowly at first, but gathering 
 courage as he went on. He recounted the story of 
 the fire, and the part Mr. and Mrs. Lucas had played, 
 leaving out nothing. He told them of the desk, and 
 the letter, and of the absolute mystery which sur- 
 rounded his parentage. No one interrupted him. 
 When he had done, he said : 
 
 " I should like to explain one thing. You may 
 wonder why my father" he spoke the word dis- 
 tinctly " told me now, when all my life he has kept 
 silence. He is getting an old man; his powers are a 
 little feeble, and he does not see things clearly. He 
 said it could not make any difference in my life or 
 prospects. He did not understand. My mother had 
 no idea he would speak. She had always begged him 
 never to do so, and had entirely dismissed the matter 
 from her mind. Indeed, I think she had forgotten 
 it ! She was as unprepared for it as I was. I should 
 not like you to have an unjust thought towards 
 them." He paused, and Mildred was about to speak, 
 but Sir Henry prevented her, and Jim continued.
 
 THE MISSING WOKD 219 
 
 " I am, of course, in honour bound to break off my 
 engagement. I cannot ask Mildred to marry me 
 now ; you will rightly withdraw your consent. I 
 shall devote myself to the task of finding out who 
 I am and then I shall come back again." 
 
 Mildred rose, in spite of Eleanor's restraining 
 hand. 
 
 "Am I not to be considered?" she said quickly. 
 " It is not a question of your asking me to marry 
 you ; you have asked me ! The thing is done ! You 
 are willing to release me ; but what if I refuse to be 
 released ? And I do refuse ! Uncle Henry ! please 
 help me! " she cried, with tears in her eyes. "Don't 
 you see Oh, Jim! " she sobbed, "how can you be 
 so silly?" 
 
 Jim stood perfectly erect in the centre of the room 
 
 -he made no movement to goto her, only his hands 
 
 clenched and unclenched themselves in his efforts for 
 
 self-mastery. His eyes were fixed upon Sir Henry. 
 
 Then Sir Henry said slowly : 
 
 "I am only one guardian ; there is Lady Vernon to 
 be considered ; but so far as my consent is concerned, 
 I shall not withdraw it. I think Mildred is per- 
 fectly right." 
 
 In two strides Jim cleared the intervening space, 
 and in a moment had taken her in his arms before 
 them all. Sir Henry deliberately turned round, and 
 poked the fire.
 
 220 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 " Bravo ! " said Miss Price, softly, rubbing her 
 hands together. 
 
 " We haven't seen the letter yet," said Eleanor, 
 suddenly. " We must see that." 
 
 " It seems incredible that there is not a clue of 
 some sort," said Captain Maitland. 
 
 "There is more inducement to find it now than 
 there was then. I don't suppose that Mrs. Lucas 
 wanted to give up the boy at all." 
 
 Presently Jim and Mildred joined the circle round 
 the fire. 
 
 " Will you write to Lady Vernon, Sir Henry ? " 
 he asked ; " or shall I do so ? " 
 
 " I will write," was the answer. 
 
 " Will you tell her that I shall do my very best to 
 find* out the truth before we are married ? I am 
 determined to do this." 
 
 " What steps are you going to take ? " asked 
 Captain Maitland. " What is the exact information 
 you have got to go upon ? " 
 
 "I have no information beyond the date of the 
 fire, and of course the example of my mother's 
 handwriting." 
 
 " You have not shown us the letter. May we see 
 it?" asked Sir Henry. 
 
 Jim handed it to him. He read it through care- 
 fully. 
 
 " There is one illegible word in it, but it does not
 
 THE MISSING WORD 221 
 
 seem of any great importance," he said, as he handed 
 it back to his wife. " What about the desk ? Is 
 there any possibility of a secret hiding-place in it ? " 
 
 "I don't think so," replied Jim. "It is very 
 simply made, with hardly any fittings. I can, of 
 course, have it examined by an expert. There is a 
 little mark like a star cut on it; it looks as if a 
 child had done it with a knife ; but that is no clue. 
 There are no initials, or crest. We must begin by 
 trying the advertisements again, I suppose." 
 
 Miss Price read the letter in her turn, and then 
 gave it to the Captain, who carried it to the lamp so 
 as to obtain a better light. The others were listen- 
 ing to Jim, and did not notice that after a few 
 moments he fetched a magnify ing-glass from the 
 writing-table, and studied something very carefully. 
 Then he said : 
 
 " You are wrong ! There is a clue here, and a 
 very strong one. The word is ice." 
 
 " Ice ! " echoed Sir Henry, in surprise. 
 
 " How is that a clue ? " asked Jim. 
 
 " i These letters will reach you when the ice breaks. 1 
 This sentence can only have one meaning," continued 
 the Captain. " The man was in the Arctic regions, 
 or possibly the Antarctic, but that is not so likely." 
 
 " An Arctic expedition ! " cried Mildred. 
 
 " Yes ! " he returned. " When I went out in 
 1874, we got our mails at Hammerfest. The letters
 
 222 TKEVOR LOEDSHIP 
 
 for this expedition would naturally have been sent 
 to the first point at which they were expected to 
 touch on their homeward journey, in the hopes of 
 catching them there. Although, of course, your 
 plans are apt to miscarry up there." 
 
 " Then," said Jim, and in spite of himself his 
 voice shook a little, " we have only to find out what 
 expedition was there in 1880." 
 
 " Yes. I can't remember off-hand, but Markham 
 went for the second time in 1879, and Leigh Smith 
 in 1880. Of course there were others. You could 
 find a list in the library, I should think ; and of 
 course the Royal Geographical Society would give 
 you any information." 
 
 " It's a clue ! A distinct clue ! How clever of 
 you to find it," cried Mildred. 
 
 " Indeed it is ! " said Jim, eagerly. " I am full of 
 hope now." 
 
 " Wait a bit," said Sir Henry, laying his hand on 
 the young man's shoulder. " I don't want to throw 
 cold water on your little spark of hope, but we 
 mustn't forget how long ago it is. Many members 
 of these expeditions may be dead. Some never re- 
 turned at all. However," he added, more cheerfully, 
 " some did, here's our old friend here to bear wit- 
 ness to that, and we will all do our best to aid you 
 in your search. Stay a few days, at all events, until 
 I have heard from Lady Vernon ; and until we have 
 got authentic details of the various expeditions."
 
 THE MISSING WORD 223 
 
 " I shall go to town to-morrow, I think," said 
 Captain Maitland. " I have one or two old friends 
 who will be able to help us considerably, men who 
 have kept up their interest and connection with this 
 exploring work." 
 
 " It would be awfully good of you," said Jim, 
 gratefully. 
 
 " Not a bit of it," said the old man, stoutly. " I 
 mean to help you to worry this out. Will you take 
 a partner in the search ? " 
 
 " With the best will in the world," replied Jim, 
 heartily. " Your help will put new heart into me." 
 
 The Captain took his leave soon after, and 
 Mildred and Jim disappeared. 
 
 "They have plenty to say to each other," said 
 Miss Price. " What a curious story it is ! " 
 
 " Of course, the husband being out of England 
 might be the reason that the advertisements were 
 not answered," returned Sir Henry. " I imagine 
 some of these parties stay away for years, and no 
 doubt, if he ever did return, he could find no trace 
 of his wife and child." 
 
 " Dear little Mildred ! " said Eleanor ; " she was 
 very brave about it." 
 
 " Yes ! " agreed Miss Price, " she has plenty of 
 good sense. I thoroughly applauded your decision, 
 Sir Henry." 
 
 " Thank you," he replied. " It would have been
 
 224 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 hard if their happiness had been destroyed suddenly, 
 by something unforeseen and unavoidable." 
 
 He looked at his wife as he spoke. The desire to 
 do what would please her had influenced his action ; 
 and he was hoping she would express her approval, 
 but he was disappointed. Eleanor rose. 
 
 " I think it is time to say good-night," she said 
 rather stiffly. " I will go and call Mildred." 
 
 Sir Henry's two letters to Lady Vernon had fol- 
 lowed so soon the one after the other, that he re- 
 ceived one reply to them both, and that reply came 
 as a blow to Mildred's often repeated assertion that 
 their marriage might still take place in July, as had 
 been originally intended. For Lady Vernon's atti- 
 tude towards her wards was apparently very different 
 to what it had been when they were alone and 
 friendless. She had been prepared with equanimity 
 to see Mildred earning her own living then, but 
 now that they had been virtually adopted by Sir 
 Henry and Lady Trevor, they had assumed a new 
 importance in her eyes. So much was evident from 
 the tone of her epistle, for she stated plainly that 
 she was at a loss to understand how Sir Henry could 
 think so lightly of his responsibility as guardian 
 as to give his consent to Mildred's engagement with 
 a young man who, by his own showing, was nobody 
 at all. His birth was unknown, therefore he might
 
 THE MISSING WORD 225 
 
 be, and probably was, of humble parentage, and 
 quite unsuitable to be for one moment considered as 
 an eligible suitor. She hoped Sir Henry would see 
 the advisability of discontinuing the acquaintance, 
 and make it clear to the young man that any further 
 attentions on his part would be considered an imper- 
 tinence. She suggested that Mildred should come 
 to London, where she proposed to introduce her into 
 society which would enable her to find a husband 
 for her. Some one suitable in birth and fortune to 
 Mildred's beauty and position ! 
 
 The whole letter was pompous to the point of vul- 
 garity, and the possibility of Mildred's affections being 
 already given to this ( nobody' was quite ignored. 
 
 Mildred had cheered Jim in her pretty, hopeful 
 way, and even now would not acknowledge this to 
 be a crushing blow. 
 
 " It only means waiting, dearest," she said. " In 
 a little over two years I shall be of age, and can do 
 what I choose. Uncle Henry says we must not 
 be engaged; but that does not matter, because we 
 shall write to each other, and love each other, and 
 long before that you will have found out all about 
 everything." 
 
 And what could Jim do, with her arms round him, 
 and her cheek against his, but assure her of his 
 undying devotion, which neither time nor separation 
 could alter ?
 
 226 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 Sir Henry had, man-like, been irritated at the idea 
 of Lady Vernon presuming to hint that his interpre- 
 tation of Duty was not all that it ought to be, and 
 had stoutly declined to follow her instructions. 
 
 " I repeat," he said, " I do not withdraw my con- 
 sent; but under the circumstances there can be no 
 formal engagement. I shall be pleased to see Jim, 
 whenever he cares to come ; and if letters will help 
 you both to get over a period of waiting, I shall say 
 nothing to prevent your writing as much as you like. 
 My affection for Jim remains the same." 
 
 And now all their attention was turned to the great 
 problem of how to discover the secret which circum- 
 stances had hidden so carefully for so long. Captain 
 Maitland and Jim had agreed to make London their 
 headquarters, for a time at least. It was considered 
 advisable to be on the spot in order to consult records 
 and interview authorities. 
 
 " We must not expect events to march quickly," 
 said the Captain to Eleanor. " The search will take 
 time, of course. I have heard from my friend, 
 Gervase, who is a great man on Polar exploration. 
 He will have a list of names ready for us when we 
 arrive in London." 
 
 " I don't know what Jim would have done without 
 you," she returned gratefully. " I don't know how 
 to thank you." 
 
 " I will do my best for the lad," he said heartily.
 
 THE MISSING WORD 227 
 
 " I want- to see the young people happy if it is 
 possible." 
 
 "Do you know," said Eleanor, gently, "for a 
 moment I half hoped that you might be the man 
 we were seeking ! " 
 
 He smiled. 
 
 " Ah ! your search would have been quickly ended if 
 that had been the case. No ! I had a son once but 
 I lost him and his mother. He would have been 
 about Jim's age now. I think that is why I am so 
 fond of the boy. My life's romance was very short, 
 but I have not lost the memory." 
 
 He spoke with deep feeling, and Eleanor laid her 
 hand on his arm. 
 
 " Forgive me," she said ; " I did not know." 
 
 " How should you, dear lady ? That's all right. 
 And now, to turn from the past to the present. Our 
 course is quite clear. It is slow and sure does it 
 slow and sure ! " 
 
 The old man was entirely hopeful, and the others 
 could not but be infected by his cheerfulness; and 
 finally he and Jim started off in good spirits to com- 
 mence their search. How long would it take, and 
 what would be the result ? No one could tell. 
 
 Miss Price took her departure soon after, with a 
 heavy heart. Since the evening of Mildred's engage- 
 ment she had had no intimate conversation with
 
 228 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 Eleanor, and she was forced to leave her without 
 ascertaining the cause of her altered demeanour. 
 
 And so life settled down again much in its old lines 
 at 'Trevor Lordship'; outwardly, at least, for the 
 inward changes were hardly apparent on the surface. 
 Mildred was learning that hardest of all woman's 
 lessons, 'how to wait,' and Eleanor was doing her 
 best to piece together the broken fragments of a 
 dream.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE ROSE FADES 
 
 " Mais, elle e"tait du monde ou les plus belles choses 
 
 Ont le pire destin, 
 
 Et Hose, elle a vecu ce que vives les roses 
 L'espace d'un matin 1" 
 
 FRANCOIS DE MALHERBE. 
 
 THE words which Sir Henry had spoken had, so 
 far as Eleanor could see, given her no choice but to 
 believe that he regretted his marriage. This must of 
 course mean that he had no love for her ; and yet, as 
 the summer came, and the days lengthened in all 
 their splendour and sunshine, she knew that her 
 own love was only growing stronger. And little by 
 little, there grew with it a tiny flower of hope ; hope 
 that, as all great things influence their surroundings, 
 so the very strength of her affection would compel 
 his in response. At the moment, at all events, she 
 was content to wait. 
 
 Sometimes she reflected with incredulity that it 
 was only a year, or even less, since she had deplored 
 the lack of human interest, so full of it were her days 
 now. She had grown to lavish on the invalid at 
 'Rooks' Nest' a very tender and deep affection. Her 
 companionship had done much for the girl, and, in- 
 deed, the gain had been mutual, for their long talks 
 
 229
 
 230 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 and intimate discussions had greatly assisted in Elea- 
 nor's awakening. Her mind had been broadened, her 
 intelligence roused, by the constant contact with one 
 who, whatever her limitations, had certainly lived her 
 short life to its uttermost. 
 
 And, in return, her friendship was a stimulus to 
 Constance's feeble vitality, and the new interest had, 
 for a time at least, seemed to strengthen her frail 
 hold on life. Mrs. Mollison and Eleanor, however, 
 who watched her with the eyes of love, could not fail 
 to notice that the sands of life were surely running 
 down. 
 
 And during all these months their conversation 
 had never once touched upon the forbidden topic. 
 Constance's past was still a sealed book to Eleanor, 
 who, in her turn, talked of literature, politics, history, 
 any possible subject rather than her life, her doings, 
 and her friends. She felt that if she gave her confi- 
 dence, it would seem as if she were demanding con- 
 fidence in return. 
 
 But one afternoon, with her mind full of Mildred's 
 affair, she found herself mentioning it before she 
 was aware that she had broken through her rule. 
 And Constance was most interested, and asked many 
 questions. 
 
 " How old is she ? What is she like ? How long 
 have they known each other ? " 
 
 " They have known each other for five or six years,
 
 THE ROSE FADES 231 
 
 ever since they were children, in fact, for they are not 
 very much more now. She is eighteen, and Jim is, 
 I believe, twenty-two or three." 
 
 " That isn't so very young," said Constance, slowly. 
 " I was only seventeen." Then she bit her lip, as if 
 the words had escaped her unthinkingly. Eleanor 
 did not seem to notice. 
 
 "And I was thirty-three," she said, smiling. 
 " There is a difference ! But, after all, they will 
 grow old together ; they will not waste their youth." 
 
 " Youth is only a term," replied Constance. " Some 
 people's youth lasts all their lives, and others doesn't 
 last more than a few months. How good you are ! " 
 she said suddenly. " You have never asked me any 
 questions you know nothing about me ! and yet 
 look what you are to me." 
 
 " I don't want to know anything," declared Elea- 
 nor, stoutly. 
 
 "No!" said the girl, slowly. Then she stooped 
 forward and kissed her. " Dear," she said, " if there 
 could be anything that would hold me here, it would 
 be you; but even you can't do that. And I don't 
 think you would wish to if you could. It won't be 
 very long now. I know that. No ! hush " (as Elea- 
 nor tried to speak) ; " and I want to tell you some- 
 thing a little." 
 
 "Don't, dearest!" said Eleanor. "I don't want 
 to know."
 
 232 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 " Ah ! but you must listen, and afterwards you 
 shall know everything. It is due to you, my friend. 
 Listen ! My father was St. John Fortescue, and my 
 mother died when I was fifteen. We were never 
 very well off, but after that, my father sold our little 
 home in Cheshire, he couldn't live there without 
 my mother, and we went abroad. When I was 
 just seventeen, we were at Wiesbaden, and my father 
 became very ill. He lived two months, and two days 
 after his funeral I married a man who had been very 
 kind to me during his illness." 
 
 She paused, as if desirous of choosing her words, 
 and then continued : 
 
 " The end came four months later, and Nannie 
 came and took me away to her home in Scotland. 
 She was my nurse, you know. It has been very 
 hard on poor Nannie. My baby died, and after a 
 while they said I couldn't live in Scotland, so we 
 came here. That is three years ago And that is 
 all ! " she finished, with a wan smile. 
 
 What had been the end ? Not death, surely not 
 kindly death, with his mantle of forgiveness. But 
 something infinitely harder to bear ! Eleanor kissed 
 her in silence, and presently she continued: 
 
 " I think it was my baby's death that broke my 
 heart. If I had had her, I should have had some- 
 thing to care for ; but she only lived a month. 
 But after all, it was best for her, and I shall see her
 
 THE KOSE FADES 233 
 
 soon very soon now. Don't cry ! " as the tears 
 rose in Eleanor's eyes. "Don't you see there is 
 nothing to cry for now ? It is all joy now. And 
 looking back from where I stand to-day, I see the 
 past so clearly, and somehow it was worth while ! 
 i I should live the same life over if I had to live 
 again/ because whatever happens, afterwards, what- 
 ever breaks the dream, one has the memory, and the 
 memory is better, oh ! so far better than nothing. 
 It is love that makes everything possible except for- 
 getfulness. And who wants to forget ? Not I ! 
 The memory is my delight. You will know what I 
 mean, Eleanor, when you have a child. You will 
 know how it repays all, and makes everything worth 
 while. To carry love under your heart, and in your 
 arms ! " 
 
 She lay back on her pillows, and Eleanor rose quickly. 
 
 " You mustn't talk any more, dear child. It is too 
 much for you." She poured out a dose of medicine, 
 and gave it to her. " Lie still, dear one ! " 
 
 After a while Constance recovered a little. 
 
 " I did not know I had so much energy ! " she 
 smiled, faintly. " But I feel I must speak to-day. 
 We may not have another opportunity. Dear 
 Eleanor ! you will remember, won't you, that if you 
 have love, you must guard it, and cherish it, and 
 hold it fast. Neither trouble, nor sorrow, nor separa- 
 tion, nor coldness can take it from you ; even if it
 
 234 TEEVOE LOEDSHIP 
 
 is only a memory, it is riches. You are troubled 
 now, I know, I can see ; but it will pass. All will 
 come right. I don't know how I know it, but I do 
 know it and when it does, you will think of me, 
 won't you ? r 
 
 Eleanor could only hold her closely in speechless 
 tenderness. 
 
 They parted soon after, for the last time, as it 
 proved. For the next morning, very early, Nannie 
 found her bairn lying asleep as she had left her but a 
 few short hours before, but with the light of the ever- 
 lasting love on her cold little face. 
 
 Later in the day, as Eleanor sat holding the faith- 
 ful woman's hand in deepest sympathy, she heard the 
 whole tragic story, just as Constance had told it, but 
 with added details. 
 
 " I came to London when she wrote me her babe 
 was coming," said Mrs. Mollison, brokenly. " She 
 was much alone, although he came sometimes. She 
 never guessed, but I felt there was something wrong. 
 And one fine day we knew. I'd have cut off my 
 right hand sooner, but she found it out through me. 
 I had been out to do some shopping, and I brought 
 her home a picture paper, thinking it would cheer 
 her. I gave it to her without looking at it, and 
 presently I heard a cry. Ma'am, dear, I can never 
 forget it ! There was his picture, and a bit of print-
 
 THE ROSE FADES 235 
 
 ing about him ; 'twas something to do with Parlia- 
 ment, I think ; and they gave a bit of his life. He 
 was married had been married for years, and it 
 mentioned who his wife was, and how they had come 
 to London. It was easily proved, too, for I went to 
 the address, and saw them at the door. Aye ! and 
 he saw me too, though I never stayed a moment, 
 nor spoke a word. I took my bairn straight to my 
 home in bonny Scotland, and there I will take her 
 again, me and my man, to lie with her babe in the 
 auld kirkyard. Don't ask me his name, m' lady, for I 
 told her I'd never name him, and I never will." 
 
 "Did he ever try to find her?" asked Eleanor, 
 gently. 
 
 " He would never have found her," said the woman, 
 grimly. tf But I don't think he'd have tried. He'd 
 tired of her, you see." 
 
 Only that ! a man's pastime and a woman's 
 life. Well, it was finished now, and the rest was in 
 the hands of God ! 
 
 A few days after, the house was closed, only to be 
 let later to a couple with a sturdy family, whose 
 laughter echoed through the rooms where tragedy 
 had brooded so long but the blank in Eleanor's 
 life was not so soon filled. The fragrance of the 
 gentle soul lingered like the essence of the rose leaves 
 after the flower is dead.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 MINNIE COMES AND GOES 
 
 *' Speech is but broken light upon the depth 
 
 Of the unspoken." 
 
 GEOKGB ELIOT. 
 
 "I REALLY felt I couldn't stand London another 
 minute. I simply had to get away," said Minnie, as 
 she threw off: her cloak, and sank down on a sofa. 
 " I hope you did not mind me telegraphing ? " 
 
 " Of course not," replied Eleanor. " It's so nice to 
 have you." 
 
 " I hope nothing is wrong?" asked Sir Henry. 
 
 " Oh, nothing ! I was only hopelessly tired." 
 
 " I thought perhaps you might have had bad news 
 of your husband," continued her brother. " How is 
 he?" 
 
 " Oh, Hugh's all right," said Minnie ; and then 
 after a slight pause, she added, " he's coming home." 
 
 " How glad you must be ! " said Eleanor. " Is the 
 regiment coming, or has he got leave ? " 
 
 "He has got leave. He is rather seedy, nothing 
 much; he said he would be home some time in the 
 autumn." 
 
 Minnie spoke with rather elaborate carelessness, or 
 so it struck Eleanor. 
 
 236
 
 MINNIE COMES AND GOES 237 
 
 " How did you leave London ? " asked Sir Henry. 
 
 "Hopeless!" replied Minnie, wearily. "It's been 
 a horrid season, and I shall be thankful when it is 
 over. Every one is thoroughly dull. I haven't even 
 heard a good story for months. I hate the 
 sight of the place, and wish I might never see it 
 again." 
 
 " Was this Minnie ? " thought Eleanor, in sur- 
 prise ! Something must be seriously wrong to put 
 the world thus out of joint for Minnie, and make her 
 leave town when the season was at its height. But 
 she made no comment. 
 
 " How is Mrs. Trevor ? " she asked. 
 
 " Mamma is quite well, but she worries me. She 
 keeps on saying I look ill, which is only another way 
 of telling a person they look ugly. I suppose it's the 
 truth, because no less than four people told me the 
 same thing yesterday. Heaven save me from can- 
 did friends ! " 
 
 " Well, stay here and have a good rest," said Sir 
 Henry ; " only I'm afraid that, as far as dulness goes, 
 you'll find it worse here." 
 
 " I met Jim Lucas in Bond Street, a day or two 
 ago," said Minnie, presently. 
 
 " Mildred will be interested. How was he ? " 
 
 " Oh, quite cheerful. He said he had had four differ- 
 ent interviews this week ; all useless ! He was rather 
 funny about the last one. He and Captain Maitland
 
 238 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 went to see an old lady who turned them out of the 
 house. She seemed to consider they were casting 
 aspersions on the character of her late husband. He 
 said they tried in vain to get her to answer a few 
 questions. But he seemed quite confident that they 
 would find the right person presently." 
 
 Roger Bolding came in a little later with Joan and 
 Mildred, and greeted Minnie with cheerful surprise. 
 
 " How did you manage to tear yourself away from 
 the gay city ? " he asked her. 
 
 "It isn't gay ! " she replied, rather pettishly. " It's 
 a dull hole, and fearfully depressing." 
 
 " Is the shadow of Kruger's top hat veiling the sun 
 of society ? " he asked lightly. " We even feel it 
 here ! Nothing will persuade your brother that the 
 country isn't going to be plunged in bloody warfare ! " 
 
 " Have you read your paper to-day ? " put in Sir 
 Henry, gravely. " You were so certain that this con- 
 ference was going to straighten things out, and now 
 Milner has had to leave Bloomfontein, having achieved 
 nothing ! " 
 
 " Oh, it's all bluff. If we stand firm, they'll climb 
 down." 
 
 " Half the world says there will be war, and the 
 other half ridicules the idea," said Minnie. 
 
 "I don't ridicule it exactly," replied Bolding. 
 " But I don't believe it will come. I rather wish it 
 would. I should like to see our chaps knock those
 
 MINNIE COMES AND GOES 289 
 
 Dutch fellows into fits. It would be over in a fort- 
 night. Teach them a jolly good lesson ! " 
 
 " You're wrong, my dear fellow, you're wrong ! " 
 declared Sir Henry. " If it comes to war, as person- 
 ally I am afraid it will, it won't be over in a fort- 
 night, nor yet in six months. And it won't be such 
 a simple matter for us as you imagine." 
 
 " Oh ! do stop, Henry," cried Minnie ; " and talk of 
 something more cheerful. Of course there won't be 
 war. It's absurd to suggest such a thing. Will 
 there, Monsieur Alphonse Daudet ? " 
 
 Alphonse sat up, and looked unutterably wise, but, 
 like wiser folk than he, volunteered no opinion. 
 
 " Please don't feed him any more, Aunt Minnie," 
 said Joan. " He's been visiting the butcher, and had 
 a lot of scraps. Mr. Green does spoil him so. We 
 didn't see Lavender, Aunt Eleanor ; she had gone to 
 Bessie, who has got a bran-new baby ! I do hope we 
 shall see it soon." 
 
 " Mrs. Giles was looking after the shop," said Mil- 
 dred. " She heard Bessie was going on all right." 
 
 " Poor Bessie ! " said Eleanor, softly. 
 
 " I did have such fun this morning," cried Joan, 
 suddenly. " I got such a rise out of Ma'mselle ! 
 Oh ! she did get baity ! " 
 
 " Baity ! " repeated Eleanor. " Where in the world 
 did you get that expression, and what does it mean?" 
 
 " Same as shirty," explained Joan. " Waxy, you
 
 240 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 know. Well, she's fearfully keen on French history, 
 and is always bragging and boasting about it, unti] 
 it's perfectly sickening. She gave us a lesson to 
 write, and the first question was, 'Who was Joan 
 of Arc ? ' So I put i Mrs. Noah ! ' You should have 
 seen her face when I showed it up ! " 
 
 " Oh, Joan ! it was naughty," said Eleanor and 
 Mildred together. 
 
 " Well ! what is the use of learning all about a lot 
 of people who have been dead for hundreds of years ? 
 They can't be any possible use to me ! Now, if she 
 would teach about present-day people who really did 
 something, there would be some sense in it. Joan 
 of Arc was a silly girl who went and got burnt, and 
 there was an end of her. Who wants to remember 
 her?" 
 
 " The crime of non-success," said Bolding. " Where 
 do you get your worldly wisdom, Joan?" 
 
 "Who would you like to learn about, Joan?" 
 asked Sir Henry. 
 
 " Oh ! I know lots of people ! Lord Roberts, and 
 Nelson, and Queen Victoria, and Oom Paul." 
 
 " Shades of the top hat, even here," ejaculated 
 Bolding. 
 
 " You see what I mean, Uncle Henry, don't you ? " 
 asked Joan, anxiously. " Dead people aren't half so 
 important and interesting as live ones, are they ? " 
 
 " They are certainly not so important at the mo-
 
 MINNIE COMES AND GOES 241 
 
 ment," he replied, laughing. " But I am bound to 
 confess that, personally, I find them sometimes more 
 interesting. Only sometimes." 
 
 Minnie cheered up after dinner, and was more her 
 usual self during the evening ; but as they walked up 
 to bed, she put her arm through Eleanor's, and drew 
 her into her room. 
 
 " Stay with me for a little," she said wearily. " I 
 hate being alone." 
 
 "You are thoroughly tired out," said Eleanor, 
 kindly. "Let me help you into bed. You'll be 
 much better after a night's rest." 
 
 " I didn't bring Walker ; I left her to look after 
 Mamma." 
 
 " Well, let me help you. You must get to sleep as 
 quickly as you can." 
 
 But Minnie, when her hair was loosened, and she 
 was wrapped in a comfortable gown, declared she 
 was not sleepy. She was sure she couldn't sleep if 
 she did go to bed and then, suddenly, she flung her- 
 self face downwards on the sofa, and burst into a flood 
 of tears. 
 
 Eleanor felt really alarmed. Minnie in tears ! It 
 was unbelievable. But she soothed her as best she 
 might until the worst of the storm was over. She 
 had grown very fond of her gay little sister-in-law, 
 and somehow felt a little indignant that life should 
 have shown its shadow side to one so obviously in-
 
 242 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 tended only for the sunshine. It seemed an error of 
 judgment on the part of the fates who hold the strings 
 to which we puppets dance, to have assigned Minnie 
 a tragedy role, when she was only suited for the 
 lightest comedy. And this was exactly what Minnie 
 felt herself ! 
 
 " Dear Minnie, do tell me what is the matter," 
 Eleanor said at last. " I want to help you, and per- 
 haps I can if you will only tell me what is worrying 
 
 you." 
 
 But Minnie made no reply, except a fresh burst of 
 tears. Eleanor tried severity. 
 
 " Now, Minnie," she said firmly, " stop crying at 
 once, and tell me all about it. I can't do anything 
 when I haven't the vaguest idea what is the matter." 
 
 For a moment she thought her policy had suc- 
 ceeded, for Minnie sat up, and dried her eyes with a 
 wisp of sodden lace handkerchief. She opened her lips 
 to speak, but no words came. Eleanor felt hopeless. 
 
 " It's no use trying to talk any more to-night," she 
 said at last. " Perhaps, after all, you are worrying 
 yourself about nothing. Your husband will be home 
 soon, and then everything will be all right." She 
 spoke consolingly. 
 
 For a second, a gleam of honest fright shot through 
 Minnie's childish blue eyes ; then she rose. 
 
 " I'm a fool ! " she said, in rather a hard voice. 
 " A silly fool ! You're a dear, kind thing. Don't
 
 MINNIE COMES AND GOES 243 
 
 trouble about me. I'm tired, that's all. I shall be 
 all right in the morning." 
 
 And in this unsatisfactory frame of mind, Eleanor 
 was forced to leave her. 
 
 The next day was Eleanor's birthday. She remem- 
 bered it when she was dressing, as a fact only impor- 
 tant in that it recalled to her that the years were 
 passing. It was not a pleasant reflection. She would 
 gladly have arrested time, had it been possible. She 
 felt she could ill spare it, for every empty day now, 
 meant one more gone beyond recall, one less to live 
 when she had gained her heart's desire. She refused 
 to acknowledge to herself that her hope was slowly 
 growing faint and cold. It seemed impossible to 
 break through the wall of habitual routine which 
 stood between her and her husband. Sir Henry had 
 certainly joined more in their daily doings, of late ; 
 but she seldom had opportunity for private conversa- 
 tion with him, and if she had, it was occupied with 
 the small affairs of business or household management 
 which needed discussion. She longed to be alone 
 with him more ; but he had never again asked her to 
 assist him with his work, and she was too shy to ven- 
 ture into his library uninvited. 
 
 Sometimes she found herself wishing that Mildred 
 and Joan, and Roger Bolding, and a few other inti- 
 mates of their family circle, were at the world's end ;
 
 244 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 and then she took herself to task for the selfishness 
 of the thought. 
 
 It may have been the effect of Minnie's emotion on 
 the previous evening that depressed her this morning, 
 or it may have been that the brilliant sunshine and 
 the glad song of the birds were at variance with the 
 chill she felt at her heart; anyhow, she was sensible 
 of being a little out of tune with her surroundings, as 
 she descended the stairs, and entered the sunny din- 
 ing-room. 
 
 Mildred and Joan flew to her with good wishes, and 
 each had a little present for her. She thanked them 
 fondly, wondering all the while if her husband would 
 remember, and then telling herself that the thought 
 was ridiculous. In all probability he did not even 
 know of the anniversary. 
 
 But after a few minutes the door opened, and Sir 
 Henry walked in. 
 
 " I have come to offer my congratulations. Many 
 happy returns of the day ! Here is a small offering 
 with my respectful compliments !" 
 
 In spite of his laughing manner, there was some- 
 thing in his tone which brought a flush to Eleanor's 
 cheek. She took the packet, and, opening it, found a 
 really beautiful watch bracelet ; a thing which she had 
 repeatedly expressed a desire to possess. So he had not 
 only remembered, but had spent time and trouble on 
 obtaining the very thing which she most desired. The
 
 MINNIE COMES AND GOES 245 
 
 thought was so delightful that she found it hard to 
 control her voice sufficiently to thank him. Sir Henry 
 stepped closer to her. 
 
 " I should like to wish that it will only count happy 
 hours for you," he said gently. 
 
 Then Joan broke in excitedly. 
 
 " Oh, I do hope you are pleased," she cried. " I 
 said it was what you wanted, and we were so dread- 
 fully afraid it wouldn't come in time." 
 
 A cloud blotted out Eleanor's new-found joy. So 
 it wasn't his own idea at all ! He would never have 
 thought of it if it hadn't been for the child. 
 
 " Thank you very much indeed," she said in a voice 
 which tried to be natural, and only succeeded in being 
 cold. She did not look at her husband as she took 
 off the bracelet, and laid it back in its case. " How 
 clever of you, Joan, to find out just what I wanted." 
 
 Mildred, who was looking at Sir Henry, saw a cu- 
 rious expression pass over his face; then he murmured 
 something about being busy this morning, and left 
 the room. 
 
 " Don't you like it? " asked Joan, sorrowfully, after 
 a moment of rather awkward silence. " Oh, I did 
 think you would like it ! Won't you put it on ? " 
 
 " Indeed, I like it very much," Eleanor said lightly. 
 " And I will certainly put it on, only it really seems 
 too beautiful for daily use. Ah ! here is Minnie." 
 
 Minnie declared herself perfectly rested, and as fit 
 as possible, as she kissed Eleanor affectionately.
 
 246 TKEVOR LOKDSHIP 
 
 " I must have been tired last night," she said apolo- 
 getically. " Oh, what a heavenly morning ! " 
 
 " Here's a letter for you, Minnie," said Mildred. 
 
 " I did hope I was out of reach of letters for one 
 day at least ! " 
 
 A long letter from Miss Price claimed Eleanor's 
 attention, so she failed to notice that Minnie's face 
 grew curiously white as she read. Then she folded 
 the paper again without a word, and made a silent 
 pretence at breakfasting. 
 
 " Do have something more," said Mildred presently. 
 " You have eaten nothing ! " 
 
 " I'm not hungry ! " 
 
 All the weariness of the previous evening had re- 
 turned to Minnie's voice ; and no sooner was the meal 
 over, and they rose from the table, than she said : 
 
 " Oh, Eleanor, I'm sorry, but I find I must get 
 back to town to-day." 
 
 " To-day ! " cried Eleanor, in surprise. " Oh, surely 
 not ! I am sure you had much better stay a few days 
 quietly here. It isn't worth while to come all this 
 way for one night ! " They walked to the morning 
 room, and she continued : " Dear Minnie, do tell me 
 what is troubling you. Have you had bad news ? 
 Does your mother want you back again ? " 
 
 " No ! I haven't heard from Mamma but I must 
 go. It's important business." 
 
 " Won't it keep a few days ? "
 
 MINNIE COMES AND GOES 247 
 
 " I must go to-day," said Minnie, obstinately, and, 
 mystified as Eleanor felt, she could do nothing more. 
 
 But just as the carriage drove round to take her to 
 the station, an hour or two later, Minnie turned and 
 kissed her impulsively. 
 
 " Thank you, dear old thing ! I'm sorry to be such 
 a trouble." 
 
 " Do let me help you," Eleanor said again. " I am 
 sure there is something wrong." 
 
 " Perhaps there is," was Minnie's answer. " But I 
 think I can manage it myself. If I can't perhaps 
 I will ask you." 
 
 So, much to Sir Henry's surprise, when luncheon 
 time came, Minnie had departed. 
 
 " I can't think why she came at all. I never knew 
 any one so erratic. Only last night she expressed 
 her intention of staying some days. Did she give 
 any reason for going ? " 
 
 " She said something about important business," 
 replied his wife. 
 
 Sir Henry laughed good-humouredly. 
 
 "What in the world has Minnie got to do with 
 business? What are you going to do this afternoon?" 
 
 " We are going over to Larnham, to tea with Mrs. 
 Wickham," Eleanor answered. " They have a tennis 
 party." 
 
 " Why don't you come, Uncle Henry?" said Mildred. 
 " Leave your work for once."
 
 248 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 " I don't think I could face it ! I haven't played 
 tennis for years. No, I'll be industrious instead," he 
 added, after a pause during which he waited for his 
 wife to speak. " It is wrong to be tempted to idleness 
 by this perfect weather." 
 
 Eleanor wished to suggest staying at home with 
 him; but the sense of the morning's disappointment 
 was still strong, and the words did not come easily. 
 It was the first time he had suggested the possibility 
 of laying aside his work to join them ; a very little 
 encouragement, and he would have done so. Mildred 
 remarked on this later with some surprise, but Eleanor, 
 who had deeply regretted her silence, did not reply.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 DARK DAYS 
 
 "Oh ! dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon." 
 
 SAMSON AGONISTES. 
 
 THE glorious summer days contained no hint of 
 brightness for old Mrs. Lucas, for things were going 
 badly with her boy. He was living in rooms with 
 Captain Maitland, and, although the old lady recog- 
 nized the necessity for this, it did not cease to trouble 
 her. Jim in sorrow was bad enough, but Jim in 
 sorrow, and away from her, was hard to bear. Her 
 husband had failed rapidly since the evening of his 
 memorable conversation with Jim. His attitude of 
 mind was that of a child, who is blamed for some 
 entirely unintentional fault ; he realized that he was 
 in some measure blamed for the present state of 
 affairs, but failed to understand why. He would sit 
 for hour after hour in his library, his head sunk upon 
 his breast, lost in gloomy reflection. 
 
 Mrs. Lucas did her best to rouse him, but any con- 
 versation on the subject was invariably brought to a 
 conclusion by the old man's often repeated cry : 
 
 " It can't make any difference ! All I have will be 
 
 249
 
 250 TKEVOK. LORDSHIP 
 
 his ! I can't understand what all this pother is 
 about ! " 
 
 It seemed impossible to explain, so Mrs. Lucas was 
 obliged to avoid the topic. For the first time in her 
 life, the matter nearest her heart could not be shared 
 with " Father." She followed every detail of Jim's 
 search with the keenest interest. He did not forget 
 her ; he wrote constantly and fully, but her fond eyes 
 could read between the lines, and there she saw 
 plainly the signs of the heart-sickness born of hope 
 deferred. 
 
 The months were slipping by, and, what was 
 worse, the seekers were getting to the end of the 
 information upon which they based their researches. 
 Only two more names remained upon their list, only 
 two more people to hunt up, as likely to be able to 
 help them. When this was done, if these two people 
 failed, or were ignorant or uninterested, they were at 
 the end of their resources, pulled up in a cul-de-sac 
 from which there seemed, so far as they could see, no 
 possible outlet. They had consulted every authority, 
 tapped every possible source of information. After 
 the names on the list, they could hear of no one likely 
 to be able to help them. 
 
 At the moment, they were waiting in enforced 
 idleness, owing to a delay in obtaining the addresses 
 of these last two men. 
 
 All this Jim had written in his last letter, and
 
 DARK DAYS 251 
 
 she was longing to hear more ; schooling herself to 
 patience as best she might. She had not Mildred's 
 buoyant hope to help her, for she told herself over 
 and over again that Jim was attempting the im- 
 possible. Was the secret of twenty years ago to be 
 suddenly disclosed at Jim's call ? How could it be ? 
 But in spite of this conviction, she never said a word 
 to dissuade him, and more than that, did all she 
 could to help him. Time enough for him to know 
 that his quest was vain when it failed; as fail it 
 must, alas ! 
 
 So she ordered every book that she could hear of 
 on the subject, and she waded through them, in search 
 of she knew not what ! A name she did not know ! 
 Did she expect to find the description of a man who 
 sailed away in 1879, or thereabouts, leaving his wife 
 and the most beautiful boy in the world behind him ? 
 Hardly ! But the fact remains that she toiled 
 through the heavy volumes, jotting down every 
 name mentioned, and any date which seemed im- 
 portant, and posting the lists off to Jim with unfailing 
 regularity. They were not much use only once 
 did she send a name with which Jim and Captain 
 Maitland were not already familiar ; but she felt she 
 was doing something ! 
 
 But it took time. She couldn't get through the 
 books very fast. They were dull reading, most of 
 them, and the hot summer days were very trying.
 
 252 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 The afternoons which began in serious attention to 
 the business in hand often ended in placid slumber. 
 The volume would slip from the old lady's knee to 
 the ground, her spectacles from her nose to her lap, 
 and her mind would drift away into a region of 
 dreamless peace, where icefields and dangers had no 
 being, and even sorrow was unknown. She would 
 wake with a start, resume the book and the glasses, and 
 begin again with honest effort ; with the same result. 
 This afternoon, however, her attention did not 
 wander. If she could only send Jim a few more 
 names before these last interviews were over, it 
 would give him something to go on with, and she 
 read and compared with feverish industry. She must 
 consult so many previous lists ; it would never do to 
 send Jim the same name twice over. 
 
 Meanwhile, in a small, close room in London sat 
 Captain Maitland. The blinds were drawn down, but 
 the pitiless sun seemed to laugh at such feeble de- 
 fences, and to penetrate into every corner. Outside, 
 the very street itself seemed to flicker in the heat 
 haze. The horses trotted dejectedly, the few pedes- 
 trians slouched wearily. The heat was overwhelming, 
 no coolness anywhere. Inside the room a blue-bottle 
 buzzed irritatingly. Its activity only seemed to em- 
 phasize the prevailing lethargy which hung over 
 everything.
 
 DAEK DAYS 253 
 
 Captain Maitland sat erect in an armchair, his 
 hands clasped upon the arras ; every now and then 
 he would raise his handkerchief, and mop the heat 
 from his forehead, and then relapse again into immo- 
 bility. Only his lips moved from time to time; 
 hardly forming words, but with a pathetic move- 
 ment beyond his control. His eyes were clear and 
 grave. The tropical weather was sapping all his vi- 
 tality ; unused as he was to cities, it affected him far 
 more than it would a Londoner; but he would not 
 acknowledge even to fatigue. 
 
 Presently there was a sound of a step on the stairs. 
 The captain raised his head, alert in a moment, but 
 shook it slightly as he noticed the step was slow 
 and languid ; not swift and young as he had hoped it 
 might be. 
 
 "Well! " he said, rising, as Jim entered. "Have 
 you got the addresses ? " 
 
 Jim flung his straw hat on the table, and, walking 
 to the sideboard, mixed himself a drink. 
 
 " Yes ! " he said, with a curt laugh ; " 3567 Kensal 
 Green Cemetery ! " 
 
 " Dead ! " ejaculated the Captain. 
 
 " Dead ! " echoed the younger man. 
 
 "And the other?" 
 
 " Alipur, Elm Road, Putney." 
 
 " Oh, that's better. That's one, at any rate," said 
 the Captain, briskly. Then, laying his hand on Jim's
 
 254 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 shoulder, " Don't despair, dear lad," he added kindly. 
 " Who knows, the luck may be with us yet ! Wait 
 until it's a little cooler, and then we'll be off." 
 
 Jim dropped his head on his hands for a few mo- 
 ments, and then raised a wan, white face. The 
 last few months had aged him double the number of 
 years. 
 
 " I'm very near chucking it," he said huskily. 
 
 " Oh, dear, no ! " was the cheerful rejoinder. " The 
 weather's a trifle trying, I confess but give in? 
 not a bit of it, my boy ! I'm not ready for that for 
 many a long day ! I tell you what we'll do ; we'll 
 go along to Putney this evening, and who knows but 
 that we may happen on the man we're hunting for. 
 If not, we'll go away for a bit, and make more plans. 
 Somewhere out of this furnace. A week in a cool, 
 shady place will put new heart into us ! I want to 
 see the green trees, and hear the rooks calling." 
 
 "I shan't go to ' Trevor Lordship.' I can't face 
 Mildred with failure." 
 
 " There's no failure to be faced yet," retorted the 
 Captain, sturdily. " But never mind, we won't go 
 to t Trevor/ then.' Let's go down the river somewhere 
 for a week, and gain strength for new efforts." 
 
 Jim sat on, in gloomy silence, until, about an hour 
 later, the Captain rose. 
 
 "Come on, my boy, we'll have another shot. 
 Heaven send we meet no more women ! Jove ! we
 
 DAKK DAYS 255 
 
 raised a hornets' nest about our ears last time ! I 
 never saw such a virago ! " 
 
 Jim smiled at the recollection. Then he drew 
 himself up with some of his old boyish fun, and, 
 putting on an exaggeratedly pompous manner, he 
 declaimed in staccato tones : 
 
 "I would have you to know, gentlemen, that my late 
 husband was a man of the highest honour ! He had 
 no wife but me, and I certainly never had a child! 
 I bid you good-morning ! " 
 
 Then they both had a good laugh, and felt better. 
 
 The stairway was dark and fairly cool, but the 
 heat rose to meet them like a solid wall as they 
 emerged upon the street. 
 
 " The top of a 'bus, I think," gasped the Captain, 
 unfurling a huge linen umbrella. " We may get a 
 breath of air there." 
 
 They crawled along through the baking and almost 
 deserted streets, odorous with the pungent smell of 
 hot wood pavement, until they reached Putney 
 Bridge. Here they alighted, and, after making 
 various enquiries, found themselves in Elm Road; a 
 locality of staring red villas. Passing these, they 
 came upon one or two houses of an older type, and 
 on the gate of one of these was clearly printed 
 "Alipur." 
 
 The door was opened by an elderly maid servant, 
 who invited them to enter. " Mr. Wheeler was at
 
 256 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 home," she said; "would they please to walk in." 
 They did so, and found themselves in a low, cool 
 room, looking out on a shady garden. 
 
 " Ah ! this is better," said Captain Maitland, grate- 
 fully. " A pleasant change from outside." 
 
 A minute later, a man entered, and greeted them 
 cordially. He was short, and rather stout, with a 
 cheerful cast of countenance, and a merry twinkle in 
 his eye. 
 
 "Very pleased to see you, gentlemen," he said 
 heartily. " Come into the garden ; it's cooler there. 
 I've been in the tropics half my life, but have never 
 been hotter in the past, and humbly trust I shan't 
 be in the future! DRINKS!!" he roared, in a 
 stentorian voice, as they left the house. 
 
 The elderly maid looked out of a door at the other 
 end of the corridor, and nodded. She was accustomed 
 to his tone, it would seem, for she showed no surprise, 
 and appeared presently, bearing a tray of various 
 liquids, syphons, and an ice bowl, which tinkled 
 seductively. 
 
 " I suppose you've come for something ! " said Mr. 
 Wheeler, chuckling. "Everybody wants something 
 in this world ; paupers to prime ministers, all alike ! 
 grab ! grab ! grab ! But don't talk about it till you've 
 had a drink. Here, young man, what'll you take ? 
 You look a bit crocked up. You haven't sampled hot 
 weather in Calcutta as often as I have, I'll be bound.
 
 DARK DAYS 257 
 
 Not but what this is worse. You could lambast the 
 punkah coolie there if you felt too sultry ! " 
 
 " We came to you for a little information," began 
 Captain Maitland, pleasantly. 
 
 " If I've got it, you shall have it," said Mr. Wheeler, 
 jovially, winking at Jim. " No charge made ! Good 
 advice and information free to all." 
 
 " You have been, I think, interested in Arctic 
 exploration ? " 
 
 " Thunder and lightning ! Not a bit of it ! " was 
 the astonishing reply. " You've come to the wrong 
 shop, sir ! Never could abide the cold, and am only 
 interested in ice when it's in a tumbler ! " 
 
 " You are Mr. J. H. Wheeler ? " asked Jim. 
 
 " James Herbert Wheeler, late Indian Civil Service. 
 Son of one Thomas Wheeler, born at Long Stratton 
 in the County of Norfolk, age sixty-one, weight 14 
 stone 6. Anything else ? " he enquired pleasantly. 
 
 The Captain consulted a note-book. 
 
 " I am afraid we have made a mistake," he said. 
 "We are seeking a Mr. J. H. Wheeler, who, as I 
 understand, joined an Arctic expedition in 1880." 
 
 " Ah ! I have it," exclaimed their host, slapping 
 his knee. "John Henry Wheeler, born September, 
 1847, died October, 1887. My brother, sir." 
 
 " And he is dead ? " asked Jim. 
 
 " Dead as a door nail these ten years or more," was 
 the cheerful reply. " Good fellow, John Henry, but
 
 258 TKEVOB, LOKDSHIP 
 
 a bit too scientific for me ! What did you want with 
 him?" 
 
 " My young friend, here, has reason to believe that 
 his father took part in an expedition between the 
 years 1879 and 1883, and we hoped your brother 
 might have been able to assist us." 
 
 " What was your father's name ? " 
 
 Jim gave a short account of his circumstances, 
 and the search on which they w r ere engaged. 
 
 " Oh ! want a father, do you ? Well, you may 
 take it from me it wasn't old John Henry. Couldn't 
 abide women never spoke to one in his life. And 
 he'd have told me ! We lived together five years 
 before he died, and we were very good friends. But 
 it might have been a shipmate of his, of course." 
 
 " Is there any record of his journeys ? " asked 
 Captain Maitland. 
 
 " Oh, yes, bless me, of course there is ! You shall 
 have it I'll get it," and he rose and went into the 
 house. 
 
 "We may perhaps find some fresh names," said 
 the Captain, trying to speak hopefully, as Jim sat 
 miserably silent. He had built so much on this last 
 .interview bringing them luck. 
 
 " Here are the diaries, my dear sir ! " vociferated 
 Mr. Wheeler, as he returned. " Four of 'em, chock full 
 of writing. Take 'em with you, and let me have 'em 
 back when you're done with 'em. Ever been in India, 
 -sir?"
 
 DAEK DAYS 259 
 
 " No," replied Captain Maitland, absently. 
 
 Then his interlocutor started off at a tangent. 
 
 " Ah ! great country, India, but spoilt since the 
 good old days of John Company. Those were the 
 days for making fortunes. Why, my father, sir, 
 he had a fleet of ships that traded for old John 
 Company all through the Islands, and the money 
 rolled in, positively rolled in ! But things are altered 
 now. Very polite to the wily native nowadays 
 educate him dress him flatter him and what 
 will be the result? It'll be the Mutiny over again, 
 my dear sir, only ten times worse, if possible. Have 
 another drink, sir, have another drink ! " 
 
 They left the garrulous old man at last, standing 
 at his gate, and still shouting after them, as they 
 walked away homewards. Not a word was spoken 
 on their return journey, and later in the evening 
 they sat, still in silence, each perusing different 
 volumes of the diary. Occasionally they made a 
 note, or referred to a note-book, but no word was 
 spoken. They each examined two volumes, and the 
 clock of a neighbouring church was striking the hour 
 of midnight before they had finished the task. 
 
 " No luck, my boy ! " said the Captain, sadly. 
 
 " None at all," agreed Jim, as he swung himself 
 round to the table, wearily, and rested his head 
 on his folded arms. 
 
 " Don't give in, dear lad ! Don't give in," urged
 
 260 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 the old man, kindly. " We haven't got to the 
 bottom of it yet, but we shall ; I'm sure we shall 
 We'll go away to-morrow and get cool, and start 
 afresh next week." 
 
 He looked at the lad anxiously as he spoke, but 
 for a while there was no answer. 
 
 Suddenly, Jim raised himself, and sprang to his 
 feet. 
 
 " I'll be shot if I give it up ! " he cried. " I'll be 
 damned if I do ! " 
 
 " Hear, hear ! " said his companion, softly. " Now 
 come on to bed."
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 A VISIT TO LONDON 
 
 " For half the evil on earth is invented 
 
 By vain pretty women with nothing to do, 
 But to keep themselves manicured, powdered, and scented, 
 And to seek for sensations amusing and new." 
 
 ELLA WHEELER WILCOX. 
 
 IF the weeks that had passed had been hard for 
 Jim, experience taught him that fate held others in 
 the future which were harder still. It had been bad 
 enough while, even if there had not been success, 
 there had at least been action; but now came a 
 period of enforced inaction, when he could do nothing 
 but sit with folded hands, eating his heart out with 
 disappointment and longing. The week for which 
 he and Captain Maitland had originally left London 
 had lengthened more and more. While there was no 
 possible clue to follow, the Captain judged it better 
 to stay where change of scene oiled the clogged 
 wheels of time, and relieved, if ever so slightly, the 
 pressure of their heavy thoughts. For a while this 
 seemed to serve the purpose ; then Jim became rest- 
 less and mutinous, and they returned to London. 
 
 August and part of September had dragged out 
 
 261
 
 262 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 their weary days. A cloud hung, not only over this 
 circle of friends whose happiness seemed buried with 
 a secret in the past, but over the whole of England. 
 For the clouds of war, which had been massing on 
 the horizon, were just now drawing nearer and 
 nearer, ever more threatening as they advanced. 
 Even the most optimistic began to acknowledge that 
 those who had held a contrary opinion to themselves, 
 whom they had ridiculed as croakers, might be 
 correct in their gloomy forebodings, after all. A 
 feeling of suspense was in the air. 
 
 Sir Henry, who had, as we know, never been 
 optimistic, watched keenly every symptom, and noted 
 every beat of the national pulse. Even his books 
 appeared to have lost their attraction, in the absorb- 
 ing interest of the daily papers. 
 
 Eleanor strove hard to combat the depression of 
 spirit which was weighing on them, one and all; 
 with the exception of little Joan, who, childlike, was 
 unaffected by it. She watched Mildred growing 
 whiter and more silent every day, with deep concern ; 
 and at last, feeling that the suspense was affecting 
 the girl's health, and that some change was impera- 
 tive, suggested that she should go to stay with 
 Mrs. Lucas for a time. The old lady was delighted, 
 and, although Mildred was very loath to go, Eleanor 
 insisted that it was best. And she was proved to 
 have been right. The two women, old and young,
 
 A VISIT TO LONDON 268 
 
 had but one thought, one name trembled ever on 
 their lips, one face was ever before their eyes. This 
 common sadness proved a bond to draw them to- 
 gether, and they were able, in a measure, to console 
 each other, as Eleanor had hoped. 
 
 Meanwhile, in addition to her concern on Mildred's 
 account, Eleanor was full of anxiety with regard to 
 her sister-in-law. Since her hurried visit to ' Trevor 
 Lordship ' in the summer, Minnie had seldom written, 
 and had never mentioned anything which might 
 account for the distress she had shown then. And 
 her silence seemed to Eleanor very unsatisfactory. 
 She had repeatedly written both to Mrs. Trevor and 
 Minnie, inviting them to pay her a visit, but had 
 only received excuses in reply. Minnie either could 
 not or would not come. After her last invitation, 
 she had heard nothing for some weeks, but at last, 
 one morning early in October, the long-expected 
 letter arrived. Four sheets of note-paper, of the 
 latest fashionable shade, covered with Minnie's large, 
 sprawling handwriting, thickly underlined. 
 
 Eleanor found it very difficult to make head or tail 
 of the sense it was intended to convey, but here and 
 there a phrase was comprehendible. " I could not 
 have believed he would behave like this " ! ! "I have 
 been a fool " ! ! lt Come to me at once, but whatever 
 you do, don't tell a soul " ! ! "Who ' he ' was, and 
 how ' he ' had behaved Eleanor could not imagine >
 
 264 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 but one thing was clear, she must go to Minnie with- 
 out delay. 
 
 Sir Henry was standing in the hall, reading the 
 newspaper, as she came out of the dining-room. 
 
 " Things look bad ; very bad ! " he muttered, as 
 his wife approached. 
 
 " I am afraid you will be surprised," she said ; " but 
 I must go to London to-day." 
 
 " To London ! " he repeated, in astonishment at 
 such a sudden departure from the quiet routine of 
 their days. 
 
 " Yes ; I have had a letter from Minnie. She asks 
 me to go to her at once." 
 
 " Does she give any reason for the summons ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Eleanor, hesitating ; " but she 
 binds me to secrecy. I do not know very much, but 
 what I do know, I cannot tell you." 
 
 "Ah ! I understand. It is very good of you to go. 
 Shall I come with you, or would you rather go alone? " 
 But before Eleanor could reply, he added, "Perhaps 
 under the circumstances I had better not come." 
 
 u I think I had better go alone," she agreed. 
 
 " You will want to catch the express," he said. "I 
 will go and order the carriage." 
 
 When Eleanor was ready to start, about an hour 
 later, she found him at the hall door. 
 
 "It is very good of you to go," he said again. 
 " When do you think you will be back ? "
 
 A VISIT TO LONDON 265 
 
 "To-morrow, I hope. Or perhaps the following 
 day. I will let you know." 
 
 "Send me news of your safe arrival," he said ; and, 
 as he helped her into the waiting carriage, he added, 
 in a low voice, "Come back soon. We shall miss 
 you so much." 
 
 Eleanor repeated the words over and over again to 
 herself, as she was driven quickly down the avenue. 
 If he missed her, as he said, perhaps they could draw 
 nearer to each other on her return. The thought 
 almost consoled her for going away. She dreaded 
 the interview with Minnie. She wanted to help her 
 if she could, but she had an inward conviction that 
 to do so would entail something distasteful, some- 
 thing to which she would feel unequal. She had no 
 confidence in her own powers of managing anything 
 outside her own sphere and experience, and Minnie's 
 mode of life and surroundings were, she felt, an un- 
 known quantity. The whole affair seemed vaguely 
 full of disagreeable possibilities. When she arrived 
 at the railway station, she found she had twenty 
 minutes to spare. 
 
 " Go to the post-office, and ask for the second post 
 letters," she said to the footman. " Bring them to 
 me here." 
 
 She entered the train, which was standing at 
 the platform, and in a few moments the man re- 
 turned.
 
 266 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 "Those are yours, m' lady/' he said. "The rest 
 are for Sir Henry." 
 
 " I will telegraph if I wish to be met to-morrow," 
 she said, as she dismissed him. 
 
 As the train drew out of the station, she looked 
 absently at the letters she held in her hand. There 
 were only three or four, and a small parcel bearing a 
 Scotch postmark, and addressed in Mrs. Mollison's 
 handwriting, with which she was familiar. After 
 opening the letters, which proved quite unimportant, 
 she locked the parcel up in her bag. She could at- 
 tend to it later. Then she established herself in a 
 corner seat, and gave herself up to her thoughts. 
 
 Every turn of the wheels seemed to carry her fur- 
 ther from all she held dear. She wished with all her 
 heart she had allowed her husband to accompany her. 
 What in the world could Minnie want? Any one 
 more worldly wise would have jumped at once to 
 the conclusion that Minnie's difficulties were financial, 
 but Eleanor was too unsophisticated. Before she 
 married, her small allowance had been sufficient for 
 her wants, or rather, perhaps, her wants had been 
 regulated by her allowance. It would never have 
 struck her that it could be otherwise. If you couldn't 
 afford a thing, you did without it ; it was quite 
 simple to her ! A society where the fashion of the 
 garment is in no way dependent upon the quantity 
 of material available was unimagined by her.
 
 A VISIT TO LONDON 267 
 
 Honest poverty among the working classes, and even 
 among the gentry, she of course understood ; but she 
 had never met with that poverty which comes from 
 living above your income. So this possible solution 
 of the riddle never entered her mind. 
 
 Mrs. Trevor was dozing in the drawing-room when 
 Eleanor was announced. 
 
 " You !" ejaculated the old lady, in surprise. 
 " Where did you spring from ? " 
 
 Eleanor was taken aback for a moment ; then she 
 understood the part she was expected to play. 
 
 " I have come to London on business, for a day or 
 two," she replied. " So I thought I should like to 
 come and see you and Minnie." 
 
 She tried to speak naturally, as if a flying visit to 
 town was a mere trifle. To her it was about as seri- 
 ous an undertaking as St. Petersburg or Constanti- 
 nople would have been to most people. 
 
 " Where are you staying ? " 
 
 " I thought perhaps you would be so kind as to put 
 me up. I ain sorry I could not let you know, but I 
 was obliged to come at a moment's notice." 
 
 Eleanor felt she could not give Minnie away. Mrs. 
 Trevor had evidently been told nothing; but it was 
 too bad of her sister-in-law to let her in like this. 
 
 "Of course we can put you up," said Mrs. Trevor; 
 and then she continued, in much agitation, " I can't 
 understand what is the matter with Minnie. I haven't
 
 268 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 seen her since we came back from Lady Seymour's, 
 two days ago. I have been to her door, but she 
 won't let me in. I begged her to see a doctor; I'm 
 sure she can't be well ; but she won't answer me. 
 The maid tells me she says she wishes to be left 
 alone. I'm quite distracted about her ! " The old 
 lady sniffed tearfully. " I wish you would reason 
 with her ; but I'm sure she won't see you." 
 
 At this moment a maid entered. 
 
 " Mrs. Ross heard Lady Trevor arrive. She says 
 will her ladyship please go to her at once." 
 
 " I can't understand it," said Mrs. Trevor, feebly. 
 " She won't see me, and yet she will see you ! What 
 does it mean ? " 
 
 Eleanor followed the maid upstairs. As the door 
 opened, and she entered, Minnie rose from the depths 
 of an arm-chair where she had been crouching miser- 
 ably. 
 
 " Oh ! you have come at last," she said, in a tone 
 of great relief. " I thought you were never 
 coming." 
 
 Her face was disfigured with crying ; she looked 
 worn and wretched. The tea-gown she wore was 
 crumpled and disarranged. For the first time in her 
 life, Minnie was past considering her appearance ! 
 
 " I came as quickly as I could," replied Eleanor. 
 " I only got your letter this morning." 
 
 " Oh ! you don't know what I have been through ! "
 
 A VISIT TO LONDON 269 
 
 Minnie cried wildly. " But now you are here, you 
 must help me. You simply must ! " 
 
 " I will if I can." 
 
 " How was I to know Toby would behave like a 
 cad ; a perfect cad ! We have been pals for years, 
 and then he turns on me like this. He must know 
 why I can't have any more to do with that odious 
 man ! " 
 
 " Do you mean Mr. Vane-Talbert ? What has he 
 been doing?" 
 
 " He declares he'll show the letter to Hugh, if I 
 don't do what he wants," sobbed Minnie, desperately. 
 " And you know what Hugh is ! It would kill me ! 
 Hugh is most awfully straight. He wouldn't under- 
 stand it at all." 
 
 " My dear Minnie," said Eleanor, breaking into 
 this tirade, " how do you expect me to understand ? 
 What letter is he going to show to your husband ? 
 Is it yours ? " 
 
 " Yes ! I never thought anything of it when I 
 wrote it ! I've always been very fond of Toby, and 
 I thought he was fond of me. But of course, if Hugh 
 reads it, he will see it in quite a different light ! " 
 
 "What was the letter about?" asked Eleanor, 
 sternly. 
 
 " About old Brandt ; but I didn't mention his 
 name." 
 
 Eleanor was still completely at sea. She began to
 
 270 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 feel at the end of her patience. Rising from her seat, 
 she took the younger woman by the arm. 
 
 " Get up from the floor, Minnie. You are behaving 
 like a perfect baby ! Stop crying at once, and try 
 and tell me the whole story." 
 
 Minnie rose, and stood with her elbows resting on 
 the mantelpiece, and her face hidden in her hands. 
 Seeing that she was trying to control herself, Eleanor 
 did not speak for a few minutes. 
 
 " I don't like to tell you. I have been a perfect 
 fool ! You will be fearfully shocked," said Minnie, 
 at last. 
 
 Eleanor thought it was extremely likely, but she 
 said nothing. She felt a sensation as of cold water 
 running down her spine. 
 
 " Well, you see," began Minnie, speaking very fast 
 and low, " all last year I was very good friends with 
 old Brandt. Of course, he's not a gentleman, or 
 anything like one, but he was very civil and very 
 useful. He's one of these South African finance 
 people, and he used to give me tips. I made a heap 
 of money. And then, three or four months ago, he 
 insulted me, and said the most awful things, and I 
 simply couldn't have any more to do with him. 
 I didn't dare ! And Toby has been furious ! " 
 
 " What has Mr. Vane-Talbert to do with it ? " 
 
 " He went in with me, you see. I hadn't got the 
 money to start with, and Toby and I went shares.
 
 A VISIT TO LONDON 271 
 
 Of course Brandt didn't know. And when I couldn't 
 get any more tips from Brandt, Toby was furious, 
 He says he is hard up, and wants the money. But 
 I daren't ! " Minnie turned round passionately. " I 
 simply daren't." 
 
 " Do you mean that Brandt took your money and 
 speculated with it ? " 
 
 " Sometimes. And sometimes he would say he 
 had bought shares for me, and he'd let me know the 
 result. But they always went up. Never down. He 
 was awfully clever. Sometimes generally he'd 
 tell me what to buy, and then I used to tell Toby." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Of course, Toby was a pal of mine, and I was 
 very glad to do him a good turn. But when Brandt 
 got impossible, I had to stop." 
 
 " How do you mean, impossible ? " 
 
 " He tried to make love to me. Oh, Eleanor ! we 
 had an awful scene. I had been dining with him at 
 the Savoy, of course I was a fool to go, but I wanted 
 some money badly just then, and he told me the 
 last transaction had gone wrong, and I owed him two 
 hundred pounds. I felt pretty sick, but I didn't say 
 anything much. Then he said he'd drive me home 
 in his brougham, and as soon as we started he tried 
 to kiss me, and insulted me. I was furious, and 
 showed it. Dirty beast ! And then he said the 
 most awful things ! "
 
 272 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 "What sort of things?" 
 
 " Well, he virtually told me I was no better than I 
 ought to be ! That all I wanted was to get money 
 out of him without paying for it, and that as soon as 
 he suggested an honest bargain, I said he insulted me ! " 
 
 Eleanor's face had grown whiter and whiter, but 
 she did not speak, and Minnie continued: 
 
 " I told Toby we couldn't make any more money, 
 that I couldn't speak to Brandt again; but he said it 
 was nonsense, and that I'd got to. Nothing that I 
 could say would make him see that it was impossible. 
 At last I wrote to him. I never thought of what I 
 was writing. That was when I came up to you. 
 The next morning I got a perfectly brutal letter from 
 him, saying that if I didn't do what he wanted, he'd 
 send the letter to Hugh, and tell him all kinds of 
 things ! " 
 
 "And since then?" asked Eleanor. "That is 
 months ago." 
 
 " I've only seen him once. He's been yachting. 
 And when I did see him, it wasn't any use and 
 yesterday morning I got this ! " 
 
 Eleanor took the paper which Minnie held out. 
 It was only a few lines. 
 
 I will come and see you on morning. This matter 
 
 must be settled once and for all. I don't want to be disagree- 
 able, but if you won't be reasonable, I have no alternative. 
 
 C. V.-T.
 
 A VISIT TO LONDON 273 
 
 " You're shocked, I know," said Minnie, miserably. 
 
 " Shocked ! Of course I am ! We won't talk 
 about that now. Do you remember what you wrote 
 in the letter ?" 
 
 "Only vaguely. I said, 'If you love me, you 
 won't ask me to speak to that man again. I'll do 
 anything in the world you ask me, except that.' ' 
 
 " How did you sign it ? " 
 
 " l Your loving Minnie,' I think. That didn't mean 
 anything. I have often done that to my pals." 
 
 " Have you heard from Brandt ? " 
 
 "No." ' 
 
 " Have you paid him ? " 
 
 " Oh, no. How could I ? I haven't got the money. 
 Besides, he doesn't want it ; he's got plenty. I don't 
 believe he ever lost it ! " Minnie added viciously. 
 
 Then she flung herself on her knees beside Eleanor. 
 "You will help me, won't you? You are the only 
 person who can help me." Then, as Eleanor did not 
 answer, she added under her breath, " I'm sorry, you 
 know I'm sorry ! " 
 
 "What are you sorry for?" asked Eleanor, suddenly. 
 
 Minnie was startled. 
 
 " I - " she faltered, "I am sorry to bother you 
 over this wretched business. I'm sorry I've been such 
 a fool." 
 
 Eleanor rose, disregarding the crouching figure at 
 her feet.
 
 274 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 " You are sorry/' she said sternly, " because you 
 have, as you call it, got into a hole ; but I don't be- 
 lieve you are sorry for the degrading part you have 
 played in the whole thing ! I don't believe you have 
 ever thought about that." 
 
 Minnie rose to her feet, and gasped ! Eleanor 
 was standing very straight, her hands clenched at 
 her sides, her face flushed with the force of her in- 
 dignation. 
 
 " Have you thought of it ? " she demanded. "Brandt 
 was right when he said you were not an honest woman ! 
 What could be more dishonest than making friends 
 with an impossible man, for no other reason than to 
 make money out of him. Taking money from him, 
 for that is what it comes to in plain English ! I don't 
 wonder he asked what you were prepared to give in 
 return ! What could be more degrading than to al- 
 low a man to be on such terms that the very idea of 
 your husband looking at one of the letters, frightens 
 you ? I don't wonder you were frightened when you 
 thought Hugh was coming home." 
 
 For the first time since Eleanor could remember, 
 her temper was getting the better of her. The whole 
 sordid story had so sickened and disgusted her that she 
 was filled with hot indignation. Then she paused for 
 a moment, as a thought struck her and she asked: 
 
 " Do you care for Mr. Vane-Talbert ? " 
 
 Minnie began to cry again.
 
 A VISIT TO LONDON 275 
 
 " I don't care if I never see him again. He and I 
 were very good friends. He liked to go about with 
 me, and he was amusing." 
 
 " Amusing ! I think amusement is the only thing 
 you care for in the world. Your husband's honour 
 doesn't seem to have the slightest value for you!" 
 
 " I have never " began Minnie, hotly. 
 
 " I daresay not ! But do you think your husband 
 would think it was consistent with his honour that 
 his wife should be seen alone in all sorts of places 
 with a common money-lender ? Or to sign herself to 
 another man as ' Your loving Minnie/ and to appeal 
 to his love for her as the strongest argument she 
 could use ? " 
 
 " I didn't mean it like that ! " 
 
 " You wrote it, whichever way you meant it." 
 
 " I didn't mean any harm," pleaded Minnie. 
 
 " My dear Minnie ! are you a child, or a full-grown 
 woman? You can't plead thoughtlessness, because 
 you had no business to be thoughtless. Of course 
 you don't think ! You don't think of anything ex- 
 cept enjoying yourself, and you see the result!" 
 
 There was silence as Eleanor stopped speaking. 
 She felt a little sorry she had spoken so strongly. 
 After all, Minnie's surroundings were as much to 
 blame as she herself. Her life had been spent in 
 the society of people who cared for money and 
 amusement only. They had been, as it were, her
 
 276 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 only education. Eleanor felt the blame rested partly 
 on Hugh Ross. He must have known the sort of 
 woman he had married. He was years older than 
 she was. Why couldn't he look after her ? Why 
 didn't he insist on her staying with him, or come 
 home, and prevent her getting into these abominable 
 situations? Eleanor herself was trying to think what 
 was the best thing to be done. Her first idea was to 
 send for her husband ; but no ! she could not do that. 
 She knew enough of his character to know that he 
 held extremely strong opinions on matters like this. 
 He would be just as disgusted as she was. 
 
 She looked round the room, which, as rooms do, 
 reflected so plainly the mind of its occupant. The 
 dressing-table, loaded with costly silver and fashion- 
 able aids to the toilet. The bed, with its silken 
 hangings, and exquisite embroidered coverlet; the 
 comfortable chairs, the piles of scented cushions, all 
 seemed to her to tell a tale of indolence and luxury 
 which could only breed laxness of moral fibre. Photo- 
 graphs were everywhere on the walls, on the tables 
 on the mantelpiece quantities of them, and all, 
 with a very few exceptions, of men ! And in the way 
 a trivial thing strikes you even in your most earnest 
 moments, Eleanor found herself wondering how Min- 
 nie could undress and go to bed in such publicity, and 
 then blushed at the thought! 
 
 " You will do it, won't you ? " said Minnie, at last.
 
 A VISIT TO LONDON 277 
 
 "Do what?" 
 
 " Get my letter back from Toby ! He is coming 
 to-morrow. You will see him, won't you, Eleanor ? 
 He would give it you at once, if you asked him." 
 
 " What makes you think that ? " 
 
 "I am sure he would," said Minnie. "He would 
 not dare to refuse. You are not the sort of woman 
 a man would dare to threaten." 
 
 " I will try," said Eleanor. " I don't know if I 
 shall be successful." 
 
 Then she rose, and left the room ; returning after 
 a few minutes with a cheque for two hundred pounds, 
 which she handed to Minnie. Minnie looked at it in 
 surprise. 
 
 " Pay this into your bank, and draw a cheque to 
 Brandt for the amount," said Eleanor, quietly. "That 
 is the first thing to be settled." 
 
 " Oh, Eleanor ! How can I take it ?" 
 
 " It is not Henry's ; it is some private money of my 
 own. You need not mind taking it. You cannot 
 remain under an obligation to Brandt for another 
 day." 
 
 Eleanor's habitual calmness of manner had re- 
 turned to her, and she dictated the few words to be 
 enclosed with the cheque. Then she rang the bell, 
 and desired the maid to post the two letters herself, 
 without delay.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 ELEANOR INTERVENES 
 
 " Foul deeds will rise, 
 Though all the world o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes." 
 
 Hamlet. 
 
 IT was very easy for Minnie to say that Eleanor 
 would have no difficulty in obtaining the letter from 
 Vane-Talbert, but Eleanor herself was not at all of 
 the same opinion. 
 
 When, at last, after a most trying evening spent 
 alone with Mrs. Trevor, she gained the welcome soli- 
 tude of her own room, she was overcome with the 
 most acute nervousness at the thought of the inter- 
 view. In vain she paced up and down, trying to 
 think what words she should use, what arguments 
 she should bring to bear, and awful thought 
 what she should do if he refused her demand. 
 
 She had a constitutional horror of anything ap- 
 proaching a scene. If Vane-Talbert proved unyield- 
 ing or insolent, she was sure she would be much too 
 frightened even to argue with him; she had no 
 means of compelling him to restore the letter, and 
 cease his persecution of Minnie. Of course, if he was 
 a gentleman, he would at once see that the proper 
 
 278
 
 ELEANOR INTERVENES 279 
 
 thing to do was to hand it to her at once, and go ; 
 but gentlemanly conduct was hardly to be expected 
 from a man who could stoop to use a woman's folly 
 as a means of making money ! She had not the 
 slightest intention of shirking the encounter, but she 
 felt as if she were going unarmed, and hampered by 
 inexperience and fright, to meet an opponent who 
 would be armed at all points. If only she had some 
 weapon with which to meet him ! Never had she so 
 longed for her husband. She ha$ only to send for 
 him, that she knew ; but she could not do so. No ! 
 she must manage this by herself. In the first place, 
 she could not betray Minnie, and in the second, she 
 could not cause him the pain he would suffer through 
 the knowledge of his sister's folly. How in the world 
 a woman could act with such a lack of dignity, of 
 common sense ! The whole thing was so vulgar, so 
 degrading. 
 
 At last, conscious that her thoughts were whirling 
 in a circle, and to no purpose, she sat down and tried 
 to control herself to a period of quiet, before going to 
 bed. She took off the necklace and brooches she was 
 wearing, and opened her bag, which was on a small 
 table beside her, in order to lock them away. As she 
 did so, she remembered the packet which had come 
 by post that day. She would open it now. It would 
 serve to distract her thoughts from the unpleasant 
 subject upon which they were centred.
 
 280 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 Inside the outer wrapper, she found another packet, 
 tied with ribbon, and endorsed, " To be given to Lady 
 Trevor," in Constance's handwriting; and a letter 
 from Mrs. Mollison, to the effect that the enclosed 
 had been found in a desk which she had only just ex- 
 amined. She apologized for the delay, but she had 
 not had the heart to touch it sooner. She had not 
 known that it contained anything for Lady Trevor. 
 
 Eleanor untied the ribbon, and opened the little 
 packet. All that was left of a life's tragedy ! A 
 pitiful little collection ! The tears rose in Eleanor's 
 eyes as she looked. A baby's knitted sock a soft 
 curl of dark hair pinned to a card bearing the dates 
 of the child's birth and death a few blades of grass 
 gathered from the little grave and some papers. 
 The first Eleanor opened was a certificate of marriage. 
 She looked at the signatures, remembering the words 
 Constance had spoken at their last meeting : " After- 
 wards you shall know everything." " Constance For- 
 tescue and Charles Vane." So that was the name of 
 the man who played the traitor to an innocent, trust- 
 ing girl ! Who was he ? Where was he now ? Still 
 waiting for the grinding of those everlasting mills, 
 which must surely, in this case, grind exceeding small ? 
 Eleanor wondered. 
 
 The next was a few lines in a man's writing; 
 merely an intimation of the hour at which he might 
 be expected, signed " C." She glanced at them
 
 ELEANOR INTERVENES 281 
 
 without attention ; she was thinking of Constance's 
 love for this man who had so utterly betrayed her. 
 God grant she might never meet Charles Vane ! 
 
 Then a page torn from an illustrated paper. 
 She unfolded it. Two portraits side by side, joined 
 by a meaningless ribbon looped in many bows, and 
 underneath, a few lines of printed matter. Eleanor 
 gazed at it ; first in abstraction, then in wondering 
 incredulity, at last in horrified certainty as the 
 truth dawned upon her. A wave of burning heat 
 seemed to rise and envelop her, then slowly ebbed 
 again, leaving her cold as a stone. 
 
 For a long time she sat, frozen, immovable ; but 
 at last a shudder passed over her, and recalled her to 
 herself. With shaking hands she folded the papers 
 into a neat packet as before. She dropped it into 
 her bag, and turned the key. Then slowly, thinking 
 deeply all the while, she undressed and went to bed. 
 
 The morning came, wet and stormy; the air was 
 heavy and full of menace. Sleep had only come to 
 Eleanor's aching eyes at the hour at which it was 
 her usual habit to rise, and it was nearly ten o'clock 
 before she awoke, to find a maid standing by her 
 side with a tray in her hands, who informed her that 
 Mrs. Trevor and Mrs. Ross were breakfasting in their 
 rooms. Mrs. Trevor had a headache; and would her 
 ladyship please excuse her? 
 
 It was nearly noon before Eleanor descended to
 
 282 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 the drawing-room. She walked to the window and 
 flung it open, feeling suffocated in the close, heavy 
 atmosphere. At intervals she heard shouting in the 
 street below, saw some boys with newspapers under 
 their arms running past, and one or two people 
 stopping to purchase from them, but she paid no 
 attention. She stood, schooling herself to quiet, 
 trying to control the nervous movements of her 
 hands. She did not notice a cab draw up, and a 
 man alight from it, and started when the door opened 
 and Mr. Vane-Talbert was announced. He did not see 
 her for a moment as she stood in the window recess; 
 then she moved slowly forward. 
 
 "Ah! Lady Trevor!" he said airily. "How do 
 you do ! I didn't expect to see you. You've heard 
 the great news, I suppose ? " 
 
 He held out his hand. Eleanor apparently did not 
 see it. 
 
 " You have come to see Mrs. Ross," she said 
 quietly and clearly. " She does not wish to see you, 
 and has deputed me to do so." 
 
 " I hope she isn't ill ? " queried Vane-Talbert, 
 solicitously. 
 
 Eleanor did not reply. He began to think there 
 was something unusual in her manner. For a second 
 he wondered how much she knew. But no ! Minnie 
 wouldn't be quite such a fool as to tell her anything. 
 
 " When did you come to London ? " he continued.
 
 ELEANOR INTERVENES 283 
 
 " Is Sir Henry with you ? He will be very much 
 interested in the turn events have taken." 
 
 The sound of her husband's name seemed to give 
 Eleanor courage. She drew herself up with an almost 
 imperceptible gesture of determination, and spoke 
 again : 
 
 " Mrs. Ross has commissioned me to ask you for 
 the letter which she wrote to you. Will you please 
 give it to me ?" 
 
 She held out her hand as she spoke. 
 
 " Letter ? " he repeated, with a puzzled smile, which 
 was really very well done. " I have no letter ! I 
 wrote to her to say I was coming. Did she write to 
 me ? I never got it ! " 
 
 Eleanor did not withdraw her hand. 
 
 " Will you please give it to me at once." 
 
 Vane-Talbert hesitated. There was something relent- 
 less in her calm, even voice, which convinced him, 
 even against his will, that Minnie had 'been fool 
 enough,' as he put it. He assumed an air of engaging 
 candour. 
 
 " To be quite frank, I hardly know what to do ! I 
 will confess I do know what letter you allude to ! 
 but Minnie has so bound me to secrecy, I can't give 
 her away, can I?" 
 
 "Mrs. Ross has asked you for the letter repeatedly," 
 said Eleanor, coldly. " You have refused to give it 
 to her. Please give it to me at once! "
 
 284 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 " Oh, no ! my dear Lady Trevor, you are wrong ! " 
 he said earnestly. " The matter has been a little 
 joke between Minnie and myself. Surely she could 
 never have taken it seriously ! Of course I will give 
 you the letter. Here it is. I could not bear you to 
 have such a poor opinion of me as to imagine for a 
 moment that it was anything but a little jest between 
 friends. I should be far too severely punished if such 
 were the case ! " 
 
 Eleanor took the letter between the tips of her 
 fingers, glanced at it to see that it was the right one, 
 and then laid it on the table. 
 
 She was greatly relieved, but there was still some- 
 thing to be done. If only her knees did not shake 
 so ! Her hands were clenched at her side in a grip 
 that drove the nails into the white skin ; her heart 
 was pounding so loudly that she wondered how it 
 was he didn't notice it ; there was a lump in her 
 throat which prevented her speaking. 
 
 " You do forgive me for my idle jest, don't you ? " 
 said Vane-Talbert, in a playfully pleading manner. 
 
 Eleanor's blood suddenly boiled. 
 
 " Mr. Vane-Talbert, you will go out of this room 
 and out of this house, and you will never enter it 
 again. You will never again speak to any member 
 of my family, or frequent any house where they are 
 in the habit of going." 
 
 Vane-Talbert looked aghast. " Deuced handsome
 
 ELEAXOK INTEBVENES 285 
 
 woman," he thought ; " but what the devil does she 
 mean by dictating to me like this ? " 
 
 " Come, come, Lady Trevor, if this is part of the 
 joke, you are carrying it a bit too far, don't you 
 think ? And you can't be in earnest. What earthly 
 reason have you got for such a preposterous sugges- 
 tion? If I have thoughtlessly offended Mrs. Ross, 
 I apologize. I can't do more ! " 
 
 Eleanor met his look unflinchingly. 
 
 " You will understand my reason for speaking, 
 when I tell you that Constance Fortescue was my 
 dear friend," she said slowly and distinctly. 
 
 " I don't understand you ! " he stammered ; but 
 his words were belied by the ugly purple flush which 
 crept over his face to the roots of his sleek, black 
 hair. 
 
 " Do not lie." 
 
 Eleanor hardly raised her voice, but the words cut 
 like a whip. 
 
 Slowly Vane-Talbert turned, and walked a few 
 steps towards the door. Then he paused, hesitated, 
 and finally turned towards Eleanor again. She was 
 standing perfectly still, with an inexorable expression 
 in her eyes which his own did not care to meet. He 
 hung his head for a second. 
 
 " Where is she ? " he asked, in a husky whisper. 
 
 " I decline to give you any information." 
 
 Without another word, Vane-Talbert left the room.
 
 286 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 Eleanor tottered to a chair, and almost fell into 
 it, spent and nerveless, shaking all over as with an 
 ague. So Minnie found her, a few minutes later. 
 
 " Eleanor ! " she cried. 
 
 Then she ran from the room, to return with a 
 glass of wine which she administered ; and then, 
 kneeling beside her, she held her hand in silence. 
 
 Presently Eleanor recovered somewhat. She 
 pressed Minnie's hand slightly, and her eyes trav- 
 elled to the letter, which was still lying on the table. 
 Still without speaking, Minnie rose, and taking up 
 the letter, carried it to the fireplace, and dropped it 
 into the heart of the flames. Then she returned to 
 her former position, and kissed Eleanor tenderly. 
 
 " Listen ! " she said. " I have heard from Hugh 
 this morning. The doctors say he must break the 
 journey in Egypt. I shall go to him at once. I 
 can't thank you " 
 
 And somehow, Minnie's silence satisfied Eleanor 
 much more than any protestations could have satis- 
 fied her. Words came so easily to Minnie, as a rule.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 HOME AGAIN 
 
 " War ! War ! War ! 
 Heaven aid the right, 
 
 God move the hero's arm in the fearful fight I 
 God send the women sleep in the long, long night, 
 When the breasts on whose strength they leaned 
 shall heave no more." 
 
 E. C. STEDMAN. 
 
 As Eleanor drove to the station later on in the day, 
 she realized what had been the news that Vane-Tal- 
 bert had mentioned, and that the boys had been shout- 
 ing in the streets. It was placarded on the hoardings. 
 It was printed in large type at the railway station. 
 It was WAR ! Sir Henry had been right in his fore- 
 bodings ; it had come. 
 
 She bought all the latest editions of the afternoon 
 papers for her husband, but, somehow, it didn't seem 
 to interest her. Her mind failed to grasp the true 
 significance of it. 
 
 She leaned back in the railway carriage, utterly 
 exhausted by the events of the last two days. The 
 strain on her nerves and on her emotions had been 
 great. To a gentle character there is nothing so ex- 
 hausting as anger, and she had been roused to the 
 fiercest, keenest anger. 
 
 287
 
 288 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 She had liked Vane-Talbert ; he had stayed more 
 than once at ' Trevor Lordship/ and had always been 
 pleasant and courteous. She had met him first at 
 a time when her interest in her fellow-creatures had 
 been newly awakened, at a time when she had been 
 ready to like every one, to see the best in every one. 
 He had represented a new type, modern, sociable, and 
 tactful. So far as she had judged, he was a man who, 
 while perhaps not doing a great deal of good in the 
 world, would certainly never do any harm. 
 
 She had read in books of girls betrayed and ruined, 
 and when she had heard Constance's pitiful story she 
 had quite unconsciously accepted it, as if it had been 
 in a book. That is to say, it had never dawned upon 
 her that any gentleman she had ever met, or would 
 be ever likely to meet, any gentleman of birth and 
 breeding, who was received as a guest in her house, 
 could ever stoop to such a thing. She would as soon 
 have suspected Sir Henry, or Roger Bolding the two 
 men she knew best of deliberate murder ! She had 
 met with one or two distressing cases in her parish 
 work, but, there again, that was among a different 
 class, presumably less refined and less intelligent. 
 Crime was committed, of course, but by people one did 
 not know, not by people whom one knew, and liked, 
 and received. There were monsters of iniquity, she 
 supposed, in every grade of society, just as there 
 were maniacs ; but where exactly they pursued their
 
 HOME AGAIN 289 
 
 evil courses, she was ignorant ; only, it was not where 
 she and her friends lived and moved and had their 
 being ! Some people enjoyed vulgar and sordid in- 
 trigues and questionable dealings with their fellow- 
 creatures ; at least, so she had heard, but she had 
 been thankful she had never met them. 
 
 This comfortable but fallacious theory had been 
 rudely overthrown. She had received a severe shock. 
 In consequence, she felt as if she had touched vermin, 
 as if she had trodden in some unspeakable filth, 
 and had been herself soiled by the contact. This 
 feeling was partly due to her present bodily weak- 
 ness ; the normal balance of her mind had been dis- 
 turbed by her sudden collision with the seamy side of 
 life. 
 
 "Was it only coming events that threw shadows? 
 Did the hideous past throw no shadow ? It was in- 
 credible to her that a man could appear so entirely 
 free from care, with an ugly story like this in his life. 
 Surely it must have dogged his every footstep. And 
 he had shown no sign of it ! His manner had been 
 so particularly candid and courteous. Had the Psalm- 
 ist spoken only the truth when he made his hasty and 
 comprehensive statement, "All men are liars ! " Had 
 most people some dingy corner where lurked their own 
 private skeleton? Her faith in the whole race of 
 mankind was overthrown ; perhaps even Roger Bold- 
 ing was not all that she had imagined ! Had he trifled
 
 290 TKEVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 with some girl's affections, or made love to his neigh- 
 bour's wife ? 
 
 Then, realizing to what an awful pitch of suspicion 
 her morbid reflections had brought her, she pulled 
 herself up with a jerk. Such thoughts were unwhole- 
 some and evil ; she would have no more to do with 
 them. She would dismiss them from her mind. She 
 had a physical longing for a bath, as if the material 
 washing would help to cleanse the moral dirt which had 
 defiled her. With the thought of her familiar room 
 came the thought of her husband ; she would soon be 
 with him again, and, who could tell ! perhaps they 
 might meet a step further on that road she so yearned 
 to tread with him. She gave herself up to the delight- 
 ful vista into which that road would lead them, and 
 presently relapsed into a refreshing and dreamless 
 sleep, which lasted until she reached Larnham. 
 
 Sir Henry and Roger Bolding came out of the hall 
 door as the carriage drew up. 
 
 " Here you are at last ! " said Sir Henry. " I hope 
 you are not too tired ? It is delightful to have you 
 back again." 
 
 " I assure you, Lady Trevor," said Bolding, " it 
 has been a piteous spectacle ! I came over this 
 morning, not knowing you were away, and found 
 your husband disconsolately wandering about, as if 
 he were looking for something he could not find. I 
 joined him, and all day long we have been disconso- 
 late together."
 
 HOME AGAIN 291 
 
 Sir Henry nodded. 
 
 " I assure you it is true," he said. " Please don't 
 smile." 
 
 Eleanor laughed. 
 
 " I hope you will be happier now ! " Then she 
 remembered, and added seriously, " But I have bad 
 news for you both." 
 
 " What is it ? " asked both men together. 
 
 " War is declared." 
 
 " Never ! " said Bolding, incredulously. 
 
 " Ah ! " said Sir Henry, gravely. 
 
 " I have brought you all the papers," she continued. 
 " They were in the carriage." 
 
 Bolding went in search of them, and Sir Henry 
 turned to his wife. 
 
 " Did you get through your business all right ? I 
 have been thinking so much about you." 
 
 " Yes ! " she replied, with a little shiver of recollec- 
 tion. 
 
 " Satisfactorily ? " 
 
 Eleanor hesitated. 
 
 " 'Absolutely ' is perhaps a better word. It is all 
 over now." 
 
 Then Bolding returned, and both men plunged into 
 the absorbing topic. 
 
 " Volunteers are coming in fast. They are being 
 enrolled at the Cape already ? I see," said Bolding, a 
 little later.
 
 292 TEEVOE LOKDSHIP 
 
 " We shall want every man we can get," said Sir 
 Henry. " The Boers have the advantage of fighting 
 in a country they know, every inch of it. We 
 shall not be able to outmanoeuvre them. If we beat 
 them, it will be by sheer force of numbers." 
 
 "Do you think so?" asked Bolding, slowly. 
 
 " I am certain of it," replied Sir Henry, with 
 conviction. 
 
 Bolding sat in silence for a time. 
 
 " If that is the case, I shall go," he said at last. 
 
 " You ! " cried Eleanor, in surprise. " They will 
 never send the Yeomanry out! " 
 
 " I shan't wait for that," he said. " I shall go, 
 on my own at once." 
 
 " Will you be able to get out there, do you think ? " 
 asked Sir Henry. 
 
 " Yes, if I go at once, before there is any rush. 
 If what you say is true, and it is going to be a big 
 job, there's sure to be a rush presently. I'll get there 
 first. If it proves only a flash in the pan, I can come 
 back again. If not, why! I may give a knock for 
 the old country." 
 
 Eleanor was speechless. For the first time, War, 
 and what it means, was assuming its real importance. 
 The call to arms had come. Men would go, like 
 Bolding, without hesitation, without fuss; leaving 
 home, kindred, friends, hardly even aware that they 
 were answering the voice of duty; proving that
 
 HOME AGAIN 293 
 
 patriotism, although dormant during the stagnant 
 years of peace, woke in an instant throughout the 
 whole land at the nation's need. 
 
 Sir Henry held out his hand. 
 
 " God bless you, old fellow ! You are right." 
 
 Bolding looked at Eleanor with keen scrutiny. In 
 her eyes he read a frank, friendly anxiety. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " he said, with a slight touch of bitter- 
 ness, " I'm just the chap to go ! No wife, no ties ! " 
 Then he pulled himself together, and added, lightly, 
 " Quite unattached, in fact. No encumbrances ! " 
 
 At this moment the dressing-bell rang, and Joan 
 came running in. 
 
 " Oh, Aunt Eleanor ! I'm so pleased to see you ! 
 I'm so pleased you've come home ! " 
 
 " Mr. Bolding, you'll stay to dinner, won't you ? " 
 asked Eleanor. " Do stay." 
 
 " If you will forgive iny costume, I shall be de- 
 lighted." 
 
 " It's pouring with rain now," said Sir Henry. 
 "If it doesn't clear, you had better stay the 
 night." 
 
 " Aunt Eleanor ! " said Joan, " Dobbs says there's 
 war with old Kruger. What does it mean ? Does 
 it .mean we shall have to make barricades, and live in 
 the cellar?" 
 
 Mademoiselle's instruction in French history had 
 evidently made a strong impression !
 
 294 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 " Oh, no ; the war is in South Africa, thousands of 
 miles away." 
 
 Joan's face fell. 
 
 "Won't there be nothing exciting? Won't the 
 women have to load the muskets, and fetch the water ? 
 Nor nothing?" 
 
 Sir Henry answered her. 
 
 " Yes," he said slowly. " They will have to give 
 their husbands, and their fathers, and their sons, and 
 their lovers, and stay at home and look as if they liked 
 it ! Which will be, my dear Joan, by far the hardest 
 part of all." 
 
 It was not until some hours later, when he and 
 Sir Henry joined Eleanor in the drawing-room, that 
 Bolding remembered the errand which had ostensibly 
 brought him to 'Trevor Lordship' that day. 
 
 " Have you heard about poor Bessie ? " he asked. 
 
 " No ! " said Eleanor, quickly. " What is it ? " 
 
 " I am sorry. I ought to have told you before, but 
 the war news drove it out of my mind, for the time. 
 Her husband has been caught at last. He nearly 
 killed Broughton's under-keeper, and Bessie is 
 dead." 
 
 " Dead ! " echoed Eleanor. 
 
 " She died of the shock of hearing of his arrest." 
 
 " Poor, poor Bessie ! And the children?" 
 
 " Old Lavender brought them home last night. 
 Bessie was buried yesterday."
 
 HOME AGAIN 295 
 
 " I heard nothing of it," said Eleanor in surprise. 
 
 "You would not be very likely to. They were 
 right away at the camp at Bunton Heath." 
 
 " I knew that Lavender went back to her daughter 
 again about a fortnight ago, but although I saw her 
 before she went, she did not tell me Bessie was worse. 
 She had never really recovered. Two little chil- 
 dren, what a burden for Lavender's old age ! " 
 
 " I don't suppose she'll consider them a burden," 
 said Bolding, gently. " They'll be a comfort to her." 
 
 " We must see what can be done about the cottage, 
 Eleanor," said Sir Henry. " I heard not long ago it 
 was for sale. Perhaps you would like to buy it, and 
 let her off the rent. That would be a little help." 
 
 " I doubt if she'd do it," said Bolding. " She's a 
 good woman, with a sturdy, independent spirit which 
 you don't see too much of nowadays." 
 
 " I'll see her to-morrow," said Eleanor. " Thank 
 you very much for the suggestion, Henry. It is very 
 good of you." 
 
 Then the conversation turned again to the war, and 
 Bolding' s departure. 
 
 " I can't believe you are really going," said Eleanor. 
 " It is horrible. We shall miss you dreadfully." 
 
 " Shall you take any horses ? " asked Sir Henry. 
 
 " I'm not sure. I've two which might be useful, 
 if I can get them out. I can't really tell until I get 
 to London, and see how things are."
 
 296 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 " You'll come back again before you really start ? " 
 she asked. 
 
 " No," he said slowly. " I don't think I shall. Oh ! 
 I'll come over again before I go to London ; I don't 
 mean that. But once I get there, I shall stand by 
 for the first passage that comes along, or I may 
 miss it." 
 
 " I can't bear to think of your going." 
 
 " Can't you ? " he said, with a little smile. 
 
 Sir Henry was looking at his wife. 
 
 " Eleanor," he said suddenly, " you look dreadfully 
 tired. All this talk has been too much for you. I 
 will take Bolding into the library." 
 
 Eleanor rose. 
 
 "I think I will go to bed," she said. "I have 
 had rather a long day." 
 
 "I must be getting home too," said Bolding. 
 " May I order my horse ? " 
 
 " I wish you would stay the night," said Eleanor. 
 " Just listen to the wind and the rain," as a gust 
 shook the windows violently. 
 
 " It won't hurt me ! I feel rather in the mood for 
 a tussle with the elements to-night." 
 
 " Good-night," she said, as she held out her 
 hand. " You'll come over and say good-bye, won't 
 
 you?" 
 
 " Yes," he answered. " I will come to say good- 
 bye-"
 
 HOME AGAIN 297 
 
 Sir Henry walked with his wife to the foot of the 
 stairs. 
 
 " You are not ill, are you ? " he asked anxiously. 
 "You look fearfully white." He took hold of her 
 arm gently as he spoke. 
 
 " Oh, no ! I am not ill ! " she answered quickly. 
 " Only tired." 
 
 "I hope you will be better in the morning. If 
 not, I shall send for the doctor ! " 
 
 " That won't be necessary, I assure you," she said, 
 smiling. " Good-night ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 LAVENDER'S BABIES 
 
 " Here the heart 
 
 May give a useful lesson to the head, 
 And learning wiser grow without his books." 
 
 "An! m' lady," said Lavender. "What a rain, to 
 be sure ! Tis no fit weather for you to be out." 
 
 The old woman closed the door with difficulty 
 against a gust of wind, as Eleanor stepped into the 
 little shop. 
 
 " I waited until this afternoon in the hope that it 
 would clear, but there seems no sign of improvement. 
 I wanted so much to see you. I have been so sorely 
 grieved to hear of your sorrow. I was away yester- 
 day, or I should have come sooner." 
 
 " I heard you was away, m' lady. Aye ! it has 
 been a sad time ! I had no means of sending you 
 word from the Camp, or I would have done so. You 
 were always so kind in wishing to hear of my girl." 
 
 "Poor Bessie!" said Eleanor, softly. Then, laying 
 her hand on the old woman's shoulder, she added 
 kindly, "You must not grieve for her." 
 
 " No, m' lady, I do not grieve for her. I have it in 
 
 208
 
 LAVENDER'S BABIES 299 
 
 my heart to thank God that she's spared more sor- 
 row. He was no good, her man she never would 
 see it, but it's the truth. There could never have 
 been any happiness for her, and she always took 
 things bard. So it's best as it is." Lavender wiped 
 the tears from her eyes with the corner of her apron. 
 " Ah, well ! " she added, " there's more to do in this 
 world than fret." 
 
 " Yes," replied Eleanor. "You will have so much 
 to do now. May I see the babies ? " 
 
 " Come into the back room, and welcome, m' lady. 
 The little one, she's asleep, but Willie, he's playing 
 with his toys. You'll excuse a muddle, I know." 
 
 " I don't see any muddle to excuse ! " said Eleanor, 
 smiling, as she entered the cosy room. 
 
 In the centre of the floor a small boy of three or 
 four years old was sitting, playing with a battered 
 wooden horse and some empty reels. A sofa was 
 drawn up near the fire, and on it, in a warm nest of 
 shawls, lay the sleeping infant. Old Lavender drew 
 aside the coverings with a gentle hand. 
 
 " Isn't she a beauty ? " she said proudly. " I had 
 a bit of trouble with her at first. She wouldn't take 
 to the bottle. But to-day she's doing fine." 
 
 Eleanor bent over and looked at the babe. She 
 put her finger into the little hand lying curved like 
 an exquisite shell, and immediately the tiny fingers 
 tightened over it with the clinging confidence of in-
 
 300 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 fancy. Somewhere in Eleanor's heart a chord, hith- 
 erto untouched, tightened in instant response. 
 
 " Tis time for her bath," said Lavender. " Will 
 you mind, m' lady, if I get the things ready ? " 
 
 With a gesture of assent, Eleanor drew up a low 
 chair, and sat down beside the couch. Not for the 
 world would she have withdrawn from that little 
 tender clasp. Old Lavender bustled about, clearing 
 away the tea things which lay on the table, setting 
 the kettle to boil, and hanging little garments to 
 warm in front of the fire. And all the while she 
 kept up a little ripple of conversation. 
 
 " That do seem terrible news about the war ! Ah ! 
 that'll bring sorrow to many a poor soul. Mrs. Giles, 
 she's wonderful put about. She's got two boys sol- 
 diers. And Mrs. Kogers, she's got one, and my sis- 
 ter's got a grandson he's in Africa now." 
 
 "It will be a terribly anxious time for them," 
 agreed Eleanor. 
 
 " Aye, so it will ! 'Tis but human nature. It 
 didn't ought to be, but so it is." 
 
 " How do you mean ? " 
 
 " Well, m' lady, 'tis this way. Seems to me we're 
 here for a time, and at the end of our time we go, 
 be it soon or late." 
 
 "But this war must mean many lives cut short. 
 It seems so dreadful." 
 
 " Ah, but that ain't so, really. 'Tisn't a matter of
 
 LAVENDER'S BABIES 301 
 
 a life, 'tis a matter of a job. When our job's done, 
 we go. But no one goes, not before." 
 
 Eleanor smiled at the simple statement. 
 
 " Well, then, this will mean the end of many poor 
 men's ' jobs.' ' 
 
 "Then they'll get their penny," said Lavender, 
 sturdily. " Whether they've worked for an hour, or 
 whether they've borne the burden and heat of the 
 day. They've done their job, that's all. Who knows 
 but that God's got another for them in another place ? 
 I like to think that maybe He's set my girl to mind 
 the babies ! She was wonderful fond of little ones, 
 was my Bessie." 
 
 " Think of the poor sad hearts left behind," Eleanor 
 urged gently. 
 
 " Ah ! there you're right, m' lady. Sad hearts 
 there will be. But look at it which way you will, 
 sorrow is always for the poor ones left behind. 'Tis 
 mostly a selfish feeling, when you get to the bottom 
 of it. I'm sad because I'm a selfish old woman. I'd 
 fain have kept my maid. My old eyes are sore 
 for the sight of her. But if I wasn't selfish, I'd 
 praise God who took her out of it all. And I do," 
 she added stoutly. " I thank God for His mercies. 
 Now, if 'tis His will to spare me till the babies are 
 ready to do for themselves, that's all I ask. If He 
 doesn't, well, 'twill be all for the best, I've no doubt 
 of that. 'Tis wonderful the blessings He sends ! "
 
 302 TKEVOR LOKDSHIP 
 
 " You are always so thankful," said Eleanor, hesi- 
 tatingly. " And yet you have had so many troubles 
 in your life ! " 
 
 " Aye ! I've had troubles, for sure," was the answer. 
 " But praise God I must, and will, m' lady ; I've not 
 done praising yet along of my redemption ! 'Tis a 
 matter some folks seem to forget but not I ! That's 
 a great matter for sure ! Now, Willie boy ! " she 
 added, cheerfully, " out of the road ! Where's that 
 old gee-gee ? Bless me if that head ain't off again, 
 and only stuck on this morning." 
 
 " Poor gee-gee, no head," lisped the boy. " Willie 
 cry ! " 
 
 "Not much use crying! That won't mend it. 
 Grannie'll stick it on again to-morrow. Where's the 
 box ? Put 'em all to bye-bye ! " 
 
 The little fellow obediently gathered all his play- 
 things, and carried them to his grandmother, who laid 
 them away in an old soap box. Then she went to the 
 larder, and returned with a large slice of bread and but- 
 ter, and a cup of milk, which she placed on the table. 
 
 " Here's your supper, Willie boy," she said, lifting 
 him into a chair. " Say your grace like a man." 
 
 Willie folded his hands, and murmured a few un- 
 intelligible words. His pious intention, however, 
 appeared to satisfy the old woman, who allowed him 
 to attack his simple meal, which he did with evident 
 relish.
 
 LAVENDEK'S BABIES 303 
 
 " Baby is waking, I think," said Eleanor. " She 
 has opened her eyes." 
 
 Old Lavender caine and lifted the child from the 
 sofa. 
 
 " Eh ! my beauty," she said fondly. " Show the 
 lady your pretty eyes." 
 
 " May I stay while you put her to bed ? " Eleanor 
 asked eagerly. 
 
 " And welcome, m' lady ! I'm proud for you to see 
 her! " 
 
 With tender dexterity, Lavender laid the child on 
 her knee, undressed it, bathed it, and caressed it with 
 the foolish nursery endearments which have survived 
 the wisdom of the ages, which originated probably 
 with Eve herself, and have lasted until now. Surely 
 Eve must have played ' This little pig ' with the pink 
 toes of her offspring, or, at all events, the antediluvian 
 equivalent for that historic game. Because poor, ill- 
 fated Cain was doomed to sin and sorrow, there is no 
 reason to suppose that he was not a most attractive 
 baby ! How many mothers' hearts since then, alas ! 
 have ached with the same bitter grief for their first- 
 born ? 
 
 At last the baby, washed, fed, and contented, was 
 placed in Eleanor's willing arms. Maybe old Laven- 
 der's shrewd eyes noted the loving interest with 
 whi h she had watched the simple ceremony, and 
 divined something of the strange emotion which was
 
 304 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 playing a new and sweet music on Eleanor's heart- 
 strings. 
 
 " Sit you there, by the fire, m' lady, and nurse her, 
 while I run up and tuck Willie boy upstairs. Never 
 you be afraid, m' lady, she's a wonderful good child. 
 She never cries. Say good-night to the lady, Willie, 
 my lad!" 
 
 Little Willie obediently approached Eleanor, to 
 proffer a rather sticky hand. He skirted carefully 
 round the bath, and the other paraphernalia of the 
 baby's toilet, but his walking powers were none of 
 the steadiest, and in spite of Lavender's warning cry, 
 " Eh ! mind the fire ! " he gave a lurch forward. 
 Eleanor caught him as he fell, and exactly how it 
 happened she could not tell but a stream of boiling 
 water from the half overturned kettle on the hob 
 poured over her arm. In the moment of intense 
 anxiety she hardly noticed it ; the boy gave a scream 
 of terror, which was smothered on Lavender's breast. 
 
 " He isn't hurt, is he ? " asked Eleanor, quickly. 
 "I think it must have caught in my sleeve." 
 
 " There ! there ! my fellow, that's all right ! 
 There's nought to cry for," said the old woman, 
 soothingly. " But you, m' lady, did it scald you ? " 
 
 " No, not a bit ; and it didn't touch baby. See, it 
 has not even damped her skirt! " 
 
 " That's a blessing ! " said Lavender, heartily. " I 
 was af eared for you both for the moment."
 
 LAVENDER'S BABIES 305 
 
 Left alone with her drowsy burden, Eleanor sat on, 
 gazing with entranced eyes at the little rosy face. 
 She drew the babe closer to her bosom, and as she 
 laid her cheek upon the downy head, her whole heart 
 went out to it in yearning love. Constance's words 
 returned to her mind. ( To carry love under your 
 heart, and in your arms ! ' Ah ! if God in His infi- 
 nite compassion would some day give her such a 
 treasure to have and to hold ! Her child and 
 Henry's. Her face flushed, and her eyes grew misty 
 with longing. The babe raised one hand and laid it 
 against her face. She pressed it to her lips. All the 
 latent mother-love welled up in her heart, and over- 
 flowed in her eyes. Some day perhaps. Some 
 day! 
 
 Outside the wind howled, and the rain fell in tor- 
 rents, beating against the latticed window, but Eleanor 
 never heeded. She was lost in a vision which floated 
 before her, radiant divine ! Closer and closer she 
 drew the babe to her breast, and rocked it to and fro 
 in a very ecstasy of love. 
 
 Old Lavender put the boy safely into his bed in 
 the old raftered room overhead. Just as she had 
 done so, she heard the sharp tinkle of the shop bell. 
 " Coming ! " she called, cheerily. But it was a few 
 minutes before she had folded the child's clothes, 
 kissed him, and extinguished the light. Then she 
 moved slowly down the narrow winding stairs ; they
 
 306 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 were dark and uneven, and her old knees were stiff. 
 As she reached the lowest step, she stopped suddenly. 
 Sir Henry Trevor was standing, gazing into the inner 
 room, where, all unconscious of his presence, his wife 
 was crooning to the babe in her arms. Lavender 
 could see her from the stairway. Her face reflected 
 the beauty of her thoughts, her eyes were fixed upon 
 the little face. Her gaze was not more intent than 
 Sir Henry's, as he watched her. For some seconds 
 there was silence, broken only by Eleanor's low, 
 soothing murmur. No one moved no one spoke. 
 Then, Sir Henry drew himself up, and slowly as 
 if unable to tear himself away he turned and left 
 the shop, as he had come without speaking. 
 
 Whatever may have been old Lavender's thoughts, 
 she made no comment as she busied herself with 
 simple duties. Presently, the little lids closed over 
 the blue eyes, the little thumb fell away from the rosy 
 mouth the babe slumbered, sweetly and soundly. 
 Eleanor rose ; she laid the child on the sofa, and 
 drew the coverings round it with lingering tender- 
 ness. 
 
 " Good-night, Lavender," she said. " Thank you." 
 
 " 'Tis no fit night for you, to be sure, m' lady," 
 said the old woman, as she opened the door, but 
 Eleanor did not answer, as she stepped out into the 
 darkness. 
 
 She walked swiftly homeward, unconscious of the
 
 LAVENDER'S BABIES 307 
 
 rain which beat upon her uncovered face. In her 
 heart was sounding still the strange sweet music. 
 She felt still the caress of the tiny hand upon her 
 cheek, and the warmth of the tender form within the 
 hollow of her arm. 
 
 It was not until she reached her room that she 
 became aware that she was suffering acutely. The 
 exaltation of her mind had overruled all physical 
 sensation for the time. But as she took off her coat, 
 the pain of her scalded arm became almost unbearable. 
 
 " I have had a slight accident, and burnt my arm, 
 Wilson," she said to her maid. " I think you must 
 bind it up for me, and give me the lace gown with 
 the long sleeves." 
 
 " Oh ! m' lady ! what a dreadful burn," cried the 
 woman, aghast, as she stripped off the sleeve care- 
 fully. " If you will wait a moment, I will fetch some 
 ointment. Mrs. Johns has some which she made for 
 one of the servants a few days ago "; and later, when 
 the dressing was complete, she said, " Will you not let 
 me arrange a sling for it, m' lady ? " 
 
 " Oh, no," said Eleanor, decidedly. " I do not wish 
 any fuss made about it. It is better already, thank 
 you." 
 
 " Did you get very wet ? " asked Sir Henry, as his 
 wife entered the drawing-room. " It is a wretched 
 night." 
 
 " I don't think it was raining much when I came 
 in. I didn't notice it."
 
 308 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 " I hear the floods are out all round Larnham, and 
 trees are down in many places. Two have fallen in 
 the Park. It is the worst storm they have had in 
 this part of the country for years." 
 
 As Eleanor took the arm he offered, he laid his 
 other hand on hers, for a moment, and seemed about 
 to speak, but he did not do so, and they passed into 
 the dining-room. 
 
 During the meal they talked of Bolding, whom 
 Sir Henry had seen that day, and of his preparation 
 for his departure ; of the war, and its probable dura- 
 tion ; and every now and then Sir Henry's eyes would 
 seek his wife's with a curiously intent expression. 
 When dinner was over, he walked with her into the 
 drawing-room. 
 
 " I do not want to smoke," he said. " May I come 
 with you?" 
 
 Eleanor nodded. There was something unusual in 
 his manner to-night, and an inflection in his voice as 
 he spoke which made her heart beat more quickly. 
 She sat down in her chair, and took up some knit- 
 ting, but, finding her arm too painful, laid it down 
 again. 
 
 Sir Henry stood leaning against the mantelpiece, 
 with his eyes fixed upon her face. 
 
 " It is nice to have an evening alone," he said 
 slowly. " I don't often get you to myself." 
 
 A pulse in Eleanor's throat began to throb with
 
 LAVENDER'S BABIES 809 
 
 almost painful rapidity. She could not meet his 
 eyes. 
 
 " You are happy ? " he asked, almost roughly. 
 
 " Yes," she answered rather unsteadily. 
 
 " Could you be happier ? " he asked again, but 
 much more gently. " Look at me," he said, as she 
 made no reply. He moved a step forward as he 
 spoke. " Could you be happier ? " 
 
 The feeling in his voice compelled Eleanor to raise 
 her eyes. Then, overcome by a blind instinct to 
 escape, she rose hurriedly, and turned away. In a 
 moment she felt his arms round her. He drew her 
 closer to him. " Eleanor ! " he said, in a low, tense 
 whisper. 
 
 She tried in vain to smother the scream of physical 
 agony which escaped her lips. 
 
 "Oh! Don't !" 
 
 Sir Henry released her instantly, and stood look- 
 ing at her, as she sank into a chair, white and 
 trembling. 
 
 " I beg your pardon ! " he said stiffly. Then he 
 walked to the door. 
 
 Half stupefied by the intense pain of her arm, 
 which had been crushed in his embrace, Eleanor 
 could not speak. Another moment, and it was too 
 late, for she was alone.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 " The storm is up, and all is on the hazard." 
 
 JULIUS CJESAR. 
 
 THE next morning, under the care of Wilson, Joan 
 departed for her weekly music lesson at Townborough. 
 The child showed signs of a considerable aptitude for 
 music, and Eleanor had arranged for her to have a 
 course of lessons from a good master. It was the 
 rule for her to drive to Larnham every Thursday, and 
 then go by train to Townborough, returning the same 
 way in the afternoon. And to-day, Eleanor was glad 
 to be alone. 
 
 More than once during the morning she had found 
 herself at the door of her husband's library ; but she 
 had lacked the courage to enter. If only she could 
 go to him and explain the cause of her action of the 
 night before ! but every time she reached the door, 
 shyness overcame her. 
 
 At last, feeling restless and overwrought, she put 
 on her hat and coat, and started to walk, hoping that 
 the exercise might soothe her nerves. On all sides 
 she saw traces of the havoc wrought by the storm. 
 A large bough of the cedar lay across the lawn, the 
 scar of its wrenching showing like a white seam on 
 
 310
 
 AN ACCIDENT AND A STORM 311 
 
 the rugged trunk of the parent tree. About fifty 
 yards from the house, a giant elm had broken off 
 close to the ground, leaving only a few feet of splin- 
 tered ruin to mark the spot where it had stood in its 
 pride and strength a few short hours before. 
 
 For the moment the rain had ceased, but low, inky 
 clouds scudded across the sky, driven swiftly by the 
 force of the wind, which had not abated. As Eleanor 
 battled against its sudden onslaughts, her mood was 
 in tune with it, for in her heart there surged a fierce, 
 wild joy. What mattered a few moments of mis- 
 understanding? When next they met, surely that 
 could be easily explained easily put right. Surely 
 his action could only bear one interpretation he 
 loved her he wanted her ! He had not been in the 
 house at luncheon time; that was not unusual, and 
 she had been glad of it. When they met again, she 
 hoped so much that they might be alone together ; 
 just he and she that there might be no witness to 
 that meeting which was to alter the whole of life, for 
 her and for him. 
 
 Absorbed in her thoughts, she did not notice how 
 time was passing, nor that the clouds were becoming 
 every moment more threatening, until a few drops of 
 rain recalled her to the present. On looking at her 
 watch, she found it was half past three, and hurriedly 
 retraced her steps. At the hall door she found the 
 butler waiting.
 
 312 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 " Has Miss Joan returned ? " she asked. 
 
 " No, m' lady, not yet. The carriage went to meet 
 her as usual." 
 
 " The weather looks very bad. I shall be glad when 
 she comes in." 
 
 " Very bad this afternoon, m' lady." And then the 
 man added, " I can see the brougham now, m' lady, 
 coming in at the gate." 
 
 Eleanor turned to look, and as she watched, she 
 noticed that the coachman was driving quickly, al- 
 most recklessly, very different to Dobbs's usual sedate 
 pace. With, a sudden premonition of evil she ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 " Something is wrong ! What can be the matter ? " 
 
 The horses pulled up with a clatter, and Dobbs said, 
 quickly, 
 
 " I beg your pardon, m' lady, Miss Joan has not 
 come ! The train was delayed. There has been an 
 accident." 
 
 "An accident?" 
 
 " Yes, m' lady. They say the line broke down with 
 the water, about a mile out of Townborough ; but I 
 couldn't get to know any particulars. I came back as 
 fast as I could for orders, m' lady." 
 
 The man's voice was full of anxiety, and the end 
 of the sentence was lost in a sudden gust of wind and 
 rain. 
 
 " An accident ! Little Joan ! " Eleanor flew to
 
 AN ACCIDENT AND A STORM 313 
 
 the library, and for the first time in her life entered 
 without hesitation. Sir Henry was standing by the 
 fire. 
 
 " Henry ! " she gasped. " Joan ! There has been 
 an accident ! " 
 
 " Where ? " he asked, turning quickly. 
 
 " Near Townborough. The line is under water ! " 
 
 " All right ; I'll go ! Try not to be anxious." He 
 was half-way across the room as he spoke. " Turner ! 
 order the mares and the phaeton, at once ! " 
 
 Turner ran out to tell Dobbs, who drove quickly to 
 the stables. 
 
 " I must come ! " said Eleanor. 
 
 " Very well," replied her husband. " It will be a 
 rough drive, but it will be better for you than sitting 
 here." 
 
 Eleanor ran upstairs, and returned in a very short 
 time, ready to start. Sir Henry was just buttoning 
 his coat. He looked at her as she approached. 
 
 " Are you well wrapped up ? No ! that's no use. 
 Turner ! where is my fur coat ? Put this on," he 
 said, when the man brought it. "And take off that 
 hat. This cap will be warmer. The wind is stronger 
 than you think." Then he took a lace scarf from 
 Eleanor's hand. " Let me do it," he said. Neatly 
 and expeditiously he wound the scarf round her head 
 and neck, tying it firmly under her chin, and tucking 
 the ends inside the coat, which he buttoned with care.
 
 314 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 "There ! " he said, " that is better. Try not to be too 
 anxious ; I am sure the child is all right." 
 
 The pair of young, half-broken mares were kicking 
 and plunging as Dobbs brought them round. A stable- 
 man ran to their heads. Dobbs got down. Sir Henry 
 walked round, examining the harness with a critical eye. 
 
 "Take up that curb two rings," he said sharply. 
 Then he mounted the box. " Come, Eleanor," he 
 said, holding out his left hand. " Whoa ! my lass, 
 steady ! " Eleanor scrambled up as he steadied the 
 horses with voice and hand. " Now Tom ! No, 
 Dobbs, not to-night. This is no job for you ! " 
 
 The old servant ventured on a word of protest. 
 
 " Oh ! please, Sir Henry." 
 
 " No ! " repeated his master, kindly but decidedly. 
 "Up you get, Tom, and don't get down till I tell 
 you ! Remember that ! " 
 
 Once their heads were released, the horses changed 
 their minds, and appeared as anxious to stand still 
 as they had previously been to depart. Sir Henry 
 raised his whip, and brought it down heavily, twice. 
 With a rear and a plunge they started at full gallop. 
 Through the gates they flew as if pursued by furies. 
 
 " It's all right ! " said Sir Henry, shortly, without 
 turning his head, and for the next half mile he was 
 fully occupied in keeping the excited beasts under 
 control. He was absolutely cool and collected, and 
 apparently perfectly confident.
 
 AN ACCIDENT AND A STORM 315 
 
 Eleanor watched him with astonishment. This 
 side of his character was entirely new to her. In 
 spite of her anxiety, she felt an excitement which 
 grew stronger every moment. The pair steadied 
 presently into a trot, which was interrupted every 
 few paces by an excited plunge, or a shy at a puddle. 
 
 "They're all right," said Sir Henry. "They're 
 young. I've been breaking them in the early morn- 
 ings. They're not quite fit for a lady yet." He 
 stooped over and arranged the rug more securely 
 over Eleanor. " Frightened ? " he asked. 
 
 "No," she answered quietly. 
 
 That's all right." 
 
 All went well until, as they turned sharply to the 
 right along the Larnham road, they met the full 
 force of the gale; wind and rain straight in their 
 faces. The nervous mares pulled up short, hesitated, 
 and swerved. The groom rose from his seat; then, 
 remembering Sir Henry's words, sat down again 
 abruptly, casting anxious glances over his shoulder. 
 Crack ! Crack ! Down came the whip, in an instant 
 raising weals along the sleek bay flanks. The mares 
 evidently considered the weather the lesser evil, for 
 they threw themselves into the collars. The roar of 
 the wind and the rain drowned the rattle of the pole 
 chains and the wheels ; it screamed past like witches 
 let loose, it tore at Eleanor's wraps, and stung like 
 needles against her face. After a while, Sir Henry 
 shouted :
 
 316 TKEVOR LOKDSHIP 
 
 " I shall go across the fields. It will save a couple 
 of miles." He moved forward on his seat. " Stoop 
 behind ine, I can shelter you a bit ! " He raised his 
 arm, and she crouched close to him. 
 
 All thought of their errand was gone, all anxiety 
 swept away, torn into ribbons by the exhilaration 
 which possessed her, body and soul. The fury of the 
 elements, the excitement of her nerves, the closeness 
 of physical contact, set her pulses throbbing with a 
 mad delight. Her husband stooped again. He 
 looked into her eyes, and she met his fearlessly. 
 
 " All right? " he asked tenderly. 
 
 Eleanor laughed. A low laugh of absolute content. 
 Then the gale was on them again, and drowned the 
 word he spoke. On and on they went; the mares 
 going well, with long, raking strides, which threw the 
 miles behind them. Hedges and trees slipped past, 
 indistinct and ghostly. At last Sir Henry pulled up. 
 " Gate ! " he shouted, and Tom leaped from the 
 carriage. Down fell the whip again, and they were 
 cantering over the grass meadows, which even here, 
 although still on high ground some miles from the 
 river, showed patches of gleaming water in the 
 gathering dusk. There was a splash as the near 
 mare lost her footing on the marshy ground, but she 
 was up again in an instant, and, snorting with terror, 
 the pair dashed on. On and on first grass for a 
 bit then more water then a sharp pull up along
 
 AN ACCIDENT AND A STORM 317 
 
 a hedgerow. " Look out ! " cried Sir Henry. 
 Eleanor crouched behind him, as a low bough 
 swept over their heads a lurch a small bank 
 a thump and they were on the high road again. 
 A jerk over a branch lying in the way threw her 
 forward ; in an instant her husband's arm was round 
 her. He held her for the fraction of a second 
 did he say " Nell " ? or was it her imagination ? 
 She hardly knew she hardly cared. Had death 
 itself faced her with unspeakable torments, she would 
 not have flinched ! As she leaned against him, she 
 could feel the strong muscles of his arm working as 
 he controlled the horses every fibre of her being 
 thrilled in response. 
 
 On and on ; the mares were going slower now - 
 sobered by the familiar feel of the road under their 
 feet, their spirits chastened, but not subdued. Tom, 
 behind, began to draw his breath more freely. Never, 
 in the whole course of his rural life, had he had such 
 an experience. He ceased to repeat the grace before 
 meat, which had been the only prayer he had been 
 able to remember, and began to think of the story he 
 would tell later. His opinion of Sir Henry had been 
 high before ; he had seen him handle the mares from 
 the first, but, as he expressed it later, " Lord ! you 
 should have seen him handle them fillies that night ! " 
 
 The lights of Townborough twinkled in the dis- 
 tance ; the wind lessened as the road passed under the 
 sheltering side of a wood.
 
 318 TEEVOE LOEDSHIP 
 
 "Don't be anxious," Sir Henry said consolingly. 
 " We shall soon be in now." 
 
 Eleanor sat up straight. The spell broke. The 
 nearness of human habitation necessitated composure, 
 and with some degree of calmness came again the 
 thought of little Joan. How could she have forgot- 
 ten her ? 
 
 They clattered up the street, and into the station 
 yard. Tom jumped down, and ran to the horses' 
 heads. 
 
 "Wait here," said Sir Henry; and he got down 
 quickly and went into the station. After a minute 
 he returned. " It's all right," he called cheerily ; 
 " we shall find the child at the hotel." 
 
 He helped her down ; they walked across the yard ; 
 and in another moment, Joan was in Eleanor's arms. 
 
 " Oh ! Aunt Eleanor, it was such fun," she cried, 
 dancing about. " We were all in the 'water ! They 
 had to get a boat before we could get out ! " 
 
 " Oh, m' lady, it was dreadful ! " said Wilson, tear- 
 fully. " Did you get my telegram ? I kept telling 
 Miss Joan we could not expect you for another hour. 
 She is so excited I can't keep her quiet." 
 
 " Oh, Uncle Henry ! it was a sort of bump, and a 
 shiver, and then we fell on to the floor ! " 
 
 " Did the carriage turn over ?" 
 
 "No, not ours. Only the engine and the front 
 one. It was such a bump ! "
 
 AN ACCIDENT AND A STORM 319 
 
 " Hush ! hush ! " said Eleanor, soothingly. " Try 
 not to think any more about it." 
 
 " We must try and get her home as quickly as we 
 can," said Sir Henry, leaving the room. He returned 
 after a few minutes. 
 
 " Broughton is here," he said, " with his motor. 
 " He's going to send you back in it." 
 
 Eleanor rose. 
 
 "And you ?" she faltered. 
 
 " I must drive the horses back ; but you'll be best 
 in the motor. You'll have to go some way round to 
 avoid the water, but you'll be back in half an hour." 
 
 He carried the child to the waiting car, and they 
 sped away into the darkness. 
 
 Two hours later, Eleanor was pacing up and down 
 her room. She had undressed, and put on a loose 
 white gown ; her long hair fell in two shining plaits 
 far below her waist. She had left Joan asleep at 
 last, with a maid to watch her. Now, at last, she 
 was alone alone with her joy, and her hope ! 
 
 She had been disappointed at not returning with 
 her husband ; but of course it was necessary she should 
 come with little Joan but he would come 
 surely he would come to her. He would take her in 
 his arms as he had done last night and she would 
 tell him of her love and sob the last trace of her 
 longing away upon his breast !
 
 320 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 Listen as she might for the sound of horses trot- 
 ting, she could hear nothing but the howling of the 
 wind. Wilson knocked at the door. 
 
 " Can I help you, m' lady ? " she asked. " It's get- 
 ting very late, and you are so tired." 
 
 Eleanor dismissed her kindly, but the faithful 
 woman was not to be denied, and in half an hour she 
 came again. This time Eleanor could not refuse her, 
 so she went to bed to satisfy the maid, who attended 
 to her requirements, and arranged the room for the 
 night. Then she turned off the light, and Eleanor 
 was alone again. She lay perfectly still, perfectly 
 rigid, with every nerve strung tensely to its highest 
 pitch, one question repeating itself over and over 
 again, " Will he come?" 
 
 After a long time, was it one hour ? or was it ten ? 
 she could not tell, the door opened softly. Eleanor 
 did not move she could not move. Then she heard 
 the rustle of a dress she could have screamed, but 
 she made no sound. The woman crept to the bedside, 
 and after standing a moment, went out again, and 
 shut the door softly. 
 
 Eleanor sprang up; she could lie still no longer. 
 Surely that was the sound of horses at last 
 but no it was only the frenzy of the gale ! Up and 
 down the room she paced listening listening 
 At last she heard a door bang, somewhere in the 
 house, and footsteps, soft, but unmistakable, coming
 
 AN ACCIDENT AND A STORM 321 
 
 up the stairs. In the passage they stopped for a while 
 Eleanor strained her ears in vain. Then slowly 
 they came nearer and halted outside her door. She 
 made no sound, only her hands clasped over her heart 
 to still its wild beating; every second seemed a thou- 
 sand years. Her eyes were fixed upon the handle of 
 the door. They were shining like stars her whole 
 face transfigured with the greatness of her love. 
 
 "Surely " 
 
 Then slowly lingeringly but unmistakably 
 the footsteps moved again receding this time until 
 they died away. 
 
 For a minute Eleanor stood, unable to grasp the 
 truth, unable to believe that her ears did not deceive 
 her. Then she sank down on the floor, and buried 
 her burning face in her hands. 
 
 Sir Henry had been delayed at Townborough ; one 
 of the mares had cast a shoe. It took some time to 
 have this matter put right, and then he started on his 
 homeward drive. It was impossible to hurry; the 
 strength of the young animals had been heavily taxed 
 already. Eager as he was to arrive at his journey's 
 end, he was forced to let them take their own 
 time. 
 
 At last he reached the Lodge, and turned into the 
 avenue. His eyes scanned the house, only to be dis- 
 appointed. There was no light in Eleanor's window.
 
 322 TKEVOR LOEDSHIP 
 
 How he had counted on seeing that light he did not 
 realize until now. 
 
 He drove into the stable yard, and after a word to 
 the waiting coachman, he entered the house by the 
 side door. Divesting himself of coat and cap, he 
 walked quickly, but softly, up the stairs. Wilson was 
 standing like a faithful watch dog at the open door of 
 Joan's room. 
 
 " All right ? " he asked, in a whisper. 
 
 " Yes, sir ! Miss Joan and m' lady are both asleep. 
 I have just come from her ladyship. She seemed so 
 tired that I was anxious, but she's in a beautiful sleep 
 now." 
 
 Sir Henry said nothing. Stepping very softly to 
 his wife's door, he stood listening listening. 
 Once his hand moved to the handle, but he drew it 
 back. He could hear no sound. Then, slowly, he 
 retraced his steps, and went downstairs. 
 
 It was the next morning. Sir Henry was standing 
 in the hall, ostensibly reading the newspaper. If any 
 one had been there, however, they would have seen 
 that his attention was elsewhere. His eyes turned 
 constantly in the direction of the staircase, and he 
 was evidently waiting for a sound that did not come. 
 There was something expectant in his whole figure, as 
 he stood there listening. Presently he threw down 
 the paper, and took out his watch. It was nearly
 
 AN ACCIDENT AND A STOEM 323 
 
 eleven o'clock. Then a door opened, and Turner 
 came in. 
 
 " Dobbs has sent in, Sir Henry, to say that he would 
 be glad if you would come round to the stables at once. 
 Something wrong with one of the mares, sir." 
 
 Sir Henry hesitated for a moment. 
 
 " Very well," he said ; " I will come." 
 
 He picked up a cap, and walked out of the front 
 door. About five minutes later Eleanor came slowly 
 down the stairs, and entered the morning room. 
 Her face was very white ; blue lines under her eyes 
 told plainly of her vigil and her tears. The listless 
 droop of her whole body spoke of hope departed. 
 She walked to the window, and stood staring out 
 into the sullen greyness of the day. The wind had 
 fallen ; there was just enough now to send an occa- 
 sional shiver, as if of pain, through the tree-tops; 
 just enough to echo with a sobbing murmur through 
 their shattered boughs. The rain had ceased, but the 
 skies were dull and heavy. The elements seemed 
 spent after their passion, weary and desolate. Grey 
 world grey skies and before Eleanor's eyes there 
 seemed to unroll in front of her a long, straight road, 
 seemingly endless. Far, far into the future she could 
 see it and always she walked on it alone. No 
 flowers no trees. No strong arm to shield her 
 from the stones upon the way she could feel the 
 strength of it now against her own, as she had felt it
 
 324 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 last night was it last night, or was it centuries 
 ago? . . . 
 
 A sound made her turn her head, as Roger Bold- 
 ing walked into the room. 
 
 " Good-morning, Lady Trevor," he said. " I have 
 just left your husband in the stables. He said you 
 weren't down yet. I was so sorry to hear of your 
 anxiety last night ; I hope you are none the worse. 
 You look dreadfully tired." 
 
 " I am tired," she replied ; " but nothing more. 
 Joan will be all right in a day or two. She is suffer- 
 ing from the effects of the excitement, so I am keep- 
 ing her in bed." 
 
 " It was a narrow escape. I saw the engine in the 
 water this morning as I rode past. The rails had 
 slipped. It is lucky no lives were lost. It is sad 
 about the mare ; she seems in a bad way." 
 
 " Oh, I am sorry," said Eleanor. " I had not 
 heard." 
 
 " Your husband seems to think she may pull 
 through. You had a thrilling drive last night ! " 
 
 " Yes ! " she repeated slowly. " I had a thrilling 
 drive last night." 
 
 Bolding looked at her keenly ; she seemed changed 
 somehow. For an instant a wild thought shot 
 through his mind, only to be as instantly dismissed. 
 
 " Well," he said, after a pause. " My preparations 
 are completed. They didn't take long."
 
 AN ACCIDENT AND A STORM 825 
 
 " When are you going ? " 
 
 "I am going to-morrow. I have come to say 
 good-bye " 
 
 "So soon ?" 
 
 "Yes. I have had a telegram from a friend I 
 wrote to at the War Office. He thinks he can help 
 me if I'm on the spot. I'm taking a couple of horses, 
 and my man. He has been with me for years a 
 good fellow he insists on going with me. You can 
 imagine me sitting on the wharf at Southampton, 
 waiting for a boat ! " 
 
 " It seems so very sudden," said Eleanor. 
 
 The war, South Africa, and even Roger Bolding, 
 seemed quite remote, outside the compass of her brain 
 this morning. 
 
 " It is not sudden, really," he answered slowly. 
 " My going, I mean. I have been meaning to go for 
 some time. It is better that I should go. Then 
 when the war came, it gave me my chance." 
 
 "I am sorry you are going." 
 
 "Are you?" he said, with a faint smile. "I 
 wonder shall I tell you why I go ? " 
 
 He turned and walked across the room, and con- 
 tinued speaking with his back towards her. 
 
 " You asked me months ago why I didn't marry. 
 Shall I tell you ? There is one woman in the world 
 for me, one woman whom I love, and we met too 
 late. That is all. That is why I am going."
 
 326 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 What did he mean ? Eleanor did not understand. 
 She could only think of Mildred. Was it possible 
 that he had loved the girl ? He came nearer to her. 
 His face looked drawn, his eyes very sad. 
 
 "Did you never guess? But there why do I 
 ask ? I know you never did ! Well, I'm going now ; 
 we are going to say good-bye we may never meet 
 again; and before I go, I will tell you the truth. I 
 love one woman ! I am hers, utterly body and 
 soul, and she doesn't want me, doesn't even know ! 
 Don't you know ? Can't you guess that I love 
 you?" 
 
 Eleanor put up her hands as if to avoid a blow, his 
 words were so absolutely unexpected. 
 
 "Oh No, no!" 
 
 " Don't be frightened," he said more quietly, as if 
 under a strong restraint. "A man's honest love 
 never hurt a woman yet. I would not hurt you ! 
 And I did want you to know. You do not love me 
 I know it. Perhaps I might have made you love 
 me," he added, with a touch of grimness in his voice. 
 " I never tried thank God ! Only ! " and he gave 
 a little laugh which was very sad to hear, " I can't 
 be with you any longer, and hide it. A man gets to 
 his limit some day and then well, I might hurt 
 you without wanting to ! " 
 
 Eleanor had sunk into a chair; her hands were 
 gripping the arms, the knuckles showing white with
 
 AN ACCIDENT AND A STORM 327 
 
 the force of her grasp. Her eyes dilated 
 frightened were fixed upon his face. 
 
 " And so I go ! Thank you," he said gently, 
 " for many happy days, many words of good counsel, 
 many friendly actions. You have given me all you 
 could more, far more than I deserve. Don't look 
 like that ! There is no need ! I'm going willingly 
 gladly ! I may do something useful who knows 
 something more worthy of your friendship, than this 
 idle, useless life." 
 
 " You will come back," she faltered. 
 
 " Who knows ? " he answered, with a slight shrug 
 of his shoulders. " I might almost say I hope not ! 
 Don't trouble about me ! Give me a thought some- 
 times, just a happy, careless thought that's all I 
 ask." 
 
 Eleanor rose to her feet, and held out both her 
 hands. He took them in his and gazed into her 
 eyes. 
 
 " Ah ! my dear ! my dear ! " he said brokenly. " If 
 things had been different ! " He pressed his lips 
 passionately to the hands he held. " Good-bye! " he 
 said. 
 
 " God bless you, my friend ! " she whispered. 
 
 Bolding did not speak, only his grip tightened on 
 her hands with a painful intensity. Then, he released 
 them and without looking back, he left her. 
 
 Eleanor dropped back into her seat, and, laying her
 
 328 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 head upon her folded arms, burst into a passion of 
 weeping. For one moment she wished desperately 
 that she could have taken this man's strong, honest 
 affection for such she knew it to be, she could 
 not doubt it. How she longed to be loved like this ! 
 
 Truly she was brought very low, she thought bitterly. 
 How often had she condemned women who had 
 turned from their husbands to the love of another. 
 And now ! If, as he had said, things had been dif- 
 ferent, she could have cared for him, deeply, truly. 
 As it was, with her heart half broken with a love that 
 seemed to her unreturned, undesired she had nothing 
 to give him but if things had been different ! Ah! 
 If! 
 
 She was physically worn out with her emotion of the 
 previous night, and she lay there her whole frame 
 shaking from time to time with heavy, shuddering 
 sobs. She was lost to her surroundings. She did 
 not hear the door open, or see her husband enter. 
 Sir Henry walked in, quickly, eagerly. He stopped 
 abruptly when he saw her. For a long moment he 
 watched her, the colour slowly fading from his face, 
 leaving it ashen grey. Then he turned, and with his 
 head bent upon his breast he walked slowly to the 
 library he entered the key turned sharply in the 
 lock and there was silence.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 EUREKA! 
 
 " That power 
 Which erring men call chance." 
 
 MILTON. 
 
 PATIENCE and courage were undeniably qualities 
 sorely needed by many sad hearts in England, during 
 the months which followed the events recorded in the 
 last chapter, for the optimists who had cheerfully as- 
 serted that " it would be over in six months " were 
 destined to find themselves very much in the wrong. 
 Who can ever forget the cloud of anxiety and sorrow 
 which brooded over the whole country in the early 
 part of the year 1900, when reverses and loss met 
 our armies at every turn, when the sound of running 
 feet in the street, and the newsboy's shrill cry of 
 " SPECHUL EDITION " made the heart stand still with 
 fear, lest one beloved name should be among those 
 who had answered to a more powerful call than that 
 of patriotism ? 
 
 Roger Bolding, contrary to his expectations, had 
 not been able to get out to South Africa for many 
 weary weeks, which time he spent, with many other 
 good fellows, in worrying a much harassed War Office, 
 and in eating his heart out with impatience, 
 
 329
 
 330 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 Poor Jim had at length been persuaded that it was 
 useless idling away his days chasing phantom gleams 
 of hope, which had invariably ended in darkness, and 
 was now working at his business in London. Whether 
 the business gained greatly by the very half-hearted 
 attention he bestowed upon it was another matter; 
 as Captain Maitland said, "It's better for the lad ! 
 Better for the lad." So Mrs. Lucas had her boy at 
 home in the evenings, and was almost happy in con- 
 sequence. She would have been quite happy if she 
 had been able to make him see that it would be far 
 better to give up his foolish notions of forcing the 
 dead past to reveal its secret, and to wait patiently 
 until Mildred was of age, when they could marry, 
 and live happily ever after. It was all so simple, if 
 he would only look at it in the right light ! Mildred 
 was quite of this opinion ; she had ceased to question 
 him as to the results of his investigations, and fre- 
 quently wrote and spoke cheerfully and naturally of 
 plans for their life together two years hence. 
 
 Captain Maitland, who up to the present had re- 
 fused to acknowledge defeat, continued to search and 
 to enquire ; but even he was forced to admit (to him- 
 self alone) that it could not go on forever. "Let 
 the lad alone," he would urge constantly. "Don't 
 worry him. It will all come right," but in what 
 way, even he would have been sorely puzzled to ex- 
 plain. In fact, he admitted as much to Mildred one
 
 EUKEKA 331 
 
 day early in March. They had just finished lunch- 
 eon, and he was standing with his back to the fire in 
 the hall at ' Trevor Lordship.' So thoroughly had 
 the old man identified himself with his friends in 
 their trouble that the strain of the past months of 
 disappointment had left their mark on him. His 
 shoulders were more bowed, his hair was a little 
 whiter on his temples, but his kind blue eyes were 
 just as clear and alert as ever. 
 
 " I can't understand it," he was saying. " I am 
 perfectly certain that we have searched the history 
 of every member of every expedition. Who in the 
 world could the man have been? He can't have 
 gone absolutely alone ! " 
 
 " Perhaps he died out there," said Mildred. 
 
 They were never tired of discussing the matter, al- 
 though every inch of the ground had been gone over 
 many, many times before. 
 
 " Possibly, very possibly. But for some reason, 
 which I don't attempt to explain even to myself, I 
 can't believe it. I can give no reason for the faith 
 which is in me ! " he added, smiling. 
 
 Mildred returned his smile affectionately. 
 
 " No," she said. " But that doesn't matter. For 
 my own part, I am quite sure that I don't care one 
 way or the other. If I could only make dear old Jim. 
 see it in the same light ; but I can't, so there's an 
 end of it ! It does seem so awfully hard on him ! "
 
 332 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 Meanwhile, Jim was riding along a country lane in 
 Hertfordshire, thinking, as he always did think, of 
 Mildred, and the waiting and hoping of which he was 
 so utterly weary. Before people, oh, yes, he could 
 appear cheery and courageous; but directly he was 
 alone, the dark thoughts that hovered over him like 
 birds of prey settled down upon him in a trice. He 
 would do his level best to wrench his mind away from 
 the subject, but seldom succeeded for more than a few 
 moments at a time. 
 
 He had been down in the country to transact some 
 business with a friend who was incapacitated by the 
 result of an accident, and, as the weather seemed fair, 
 and the roads hard and dry, had decided to ride the 
 twenty miles or so back to London on his bicycle. 
 The afternoon did not, however, look so promising as 
 the earlier part of the day. Great masses of dark 
 cloud swept up from the horizon, and the wind in- 
 creased, rattling in the bare tree-tops with a menacing 
 sound, sure presage of coming storm. 
 
 "Nevermind!" he said to himself; "I'll push on 
 to Barnet, or perhaps to Finchley, and go on by train 
 from there. I ought to get to Barnet, with luck, be- 
 fore the rain comes." 
 
 But luck was apparently not attending him on 
 this occasion, for he had hardly gone half a mile be- 
 fore he felt a sudden jerk, and became aware that there 
 was something wrong with his machine. On exam-
 
 EUREKA 333 
 
 ination he found the damage to be beyond his power 
 to repair. 
 
 " What rotten luck ! " he muttered angrily ; " miles 
 from anywhere, of course, and the nut gone ! " 
 
 But since there was no help for it, he proceeded on 
 foot, pushing the offending bicycle. At this juncture, 
 the fickle jade Fortune seemed to have repented of her 
 previous neglect of him, and decided to atone by giv- 
 ing him a little of her personal attention, for at the 
 first turn of the road, he found himself entering a 
 straggling village street, where several women stood 
 chattering together. In reply to his question, one of 
 them stepped forward. 
 
 " Young Tom at the forge, sir ! He'll put it right 
 for you. No, there ain't no bicycle shop here; but 
 young Tom, he knows all about it. He's handy with 
 them things, he is. Not that I hold with 'em myself, 
 that I don't ! My man, he got one, he did, and what 
 must he do but go to fall off the very first time he 
 rode it, and break his leg! Spiteful things I call 
 'em ! " 
 
 Talking volubly, she led the way to the forge, 
 where young Tom proved equal to her opinion of 
 him. 
 
 " I can do it, sir," he said civilly ; " but it will be 
 a matter of a few minutes. I have got plenty of nuts, 
 but I expect they won't just fit without a bit of coax- 
 ing."
 
 334 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 Jim lit a cigarette, and was leaning against the 
 doorpost idly watching the blacksmith as he laid out 
 his tools, and prepared for work, when a form rose 
 from a bench at the back of the low building, and a 
 voice said : 
 
 " Maybe, sir, you'd like to see the church while 
 you're waiting ? " 
 
 " Now, now, Grandfather," said young Tom, laugh- 
 ing. " You let the gentleman alone. He don't want 
 to see no churches ! " 
 
 " There be some fine monnyments ! sir, and that be 
 but a few steps ! " 
 
 " Certainly I'll come," said Jim, cheerfully. 
 
 " He's that set on the church as never was," put in 
 the woman. " He's been grave-digger for years and 
 years, and now, being stiff with rheumatics, he can't 
 dig any more, so Rector, he lets him sweep the yard 
 and keep the place tidy." 
 
 Jim followed Grandfather's feeble footsteps through 
 the gate hard by, and up the path. The little church- 
 yard under its spreading elms was very tidy and well 
 cared for, and he stopped once or twice to read the 
 inscriptions on some of the older headstones. 
 
 " Sacred to the memory of Mister Joshua Roberts," 
 so ran one of these, as if the deceased had been anxious 
 that his name should be announced with all due for- 
 mality at the Resurrection. 
 
 " See that there ? " said the old man, with a chuckle.
 
 EUKEKA 335 
 
 " That's queer, that is ! Folks often laugh at that. 
 I mind the storm well ! " On a small moss-grown 
 stone were the words : 
 
 " Here lies Eiched Gotobed 
 Under the sod. 
 Killed by a thunderbolt, 
 Praise be to God ! '\ 
 
 " Do you often have thunderbolts in these parts ? " 
 asked Jim. 
 
 " Well, I never mind but that one. That were a 
 storm, that were. Farmer Terry, he had twelve 
 cows killed down in the pasture yonder. See ! where 
 them two old trees stands, over there ! There was 
 a clump of seven or eight oaks there in them days, 
 and the beasts they was all huddled under 'em. 
 Dick Gotobed, he were a-walking across pasture for 
 to drive 'em in, and the thunderbolt come, such a 
 crack as never you heard, seemed as if the world 
 was afire. I was standin' under the barn, a-watchin' 
 of Dick, and when I looked again, there was the 
 trees down right on top of the cows, and Dick lyin' 
 on his face just where you see that white stone. 
 Then down comes the rain, seemed as if you couldn't 
 hardly call it rain, such as I never did see, nor never 
 will, and when we picked 'im up, one side of 'im 
 were black ! black as a coal that were ! Aye ! that 
 were a thunderbolt, sure enough. I don't ever want 
 to see another ! Seems as if we was goin' for to
 
 336 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 get some rain now," he added, as he hobbled towards 
 the church. " Folks say that seems queer, putting 
 i Praise be to God/ but that were his wife. ' Praise 
 God Jane,' folks called her after that ; not but what 
 he were a good husband, Dick were, but she always 
 would have it as how, whatever come, Almighty 
 must be praised. John Collins, what were carpenter 
 then, he wrote the verse, and Jane said, ' Put what 
 you like, John, but Praise God, I will 'ave on 'is tomb- 
 stone.' Come and see the monnyments, sir; fine 
 monnyments they be." 
 
 He led Jim to the chancel, where two recumbent 
 stone figures reclined in a most uncomfortable attitude 
 on a great square tomb, and a tablet set forth in terms 
 of highest eulogy the virtues of Peter Saunders, Knight, 
 and Dame Elizabeth, his wife. They were of no par- 
 ticular interest, either artistic or historical ; but the 
 old man was so evidently proud of them, that Jim felt 
 it his duty to admire and praise, and then, in obedi- 
 ence to his guide, walked to the other side, where a 
 large tablet of black and white marble was set in the 
 wall. 
 
 The carving represented a ship in full sail, stranded 
 on large and very jagged blocks of ice ; icicles hung 
 from the rigging, and in the foreground a most real- 
 istic polar bear stood with raised head and wide-open 
 jaws. A thrill of interest ran through Jim, and he 
 stepped quickly closer to read the inscription : -
 
 EUREKA 337 
 
 " Sacred to the memory of Gilbert Baine, who, with other 
 intrepid souls on board the Seagull, perished in the Arctic 
 Regions during the Winter of 1880-1881, A.D." 
 
 Underneath was the verse : 
 
 " 'Mid pastures green He'll lead His flock, 
 
 Where living streams appear. 
 And God the Lord from every eye 
 Shall wipe away the tear." 
 
 A black mist seemed to roll heavily before Jim's 
 eyes for a moment ; the letters danced like points of 
 fire. 1880-1881 ; was it possible that here, in this 
 out of the way place, he had stumbled on the clue 
 which they had sought so diligently and so long? 
 Then he pulled himself together. No ! he told him- 
 self fiercely, there was probably nothing in it just 
 another will-o'-the-wisp beckoning to another barren 
 chase ! But it takes very little to fan the embers of hope 
 into a flame, and he was breathing rather quickly as 
 he turned to the old man and asked : 
 
 " Do you know anything about Gilbert Baine ? " 
 " Oh, aye, I knowed 'im. He were nephew to old 
 Mrs. Hamilton what lived up at the Grange. Widow 
 lady, she were. She hadn't no children, and set great 
 store by Muster Gilbert, she did. Lor' ! how she did 
 take on when 'e went away; but then, as I said to 'er 
 young folks'll go same as young colts'll kick ! But 
 'e never come back, and she put up the stone, and 
 then, soon after, she died, and the place was sold to
 
 338 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 Mr. Parker, what lives there now ; come from London 
 way, 'e did." 
 
 " Do people ever come to see the stone, or to make 
 enquiries about it ? " 
 
 " Well, now, to be sure, that do seem queer you 
 should ask that, sir; for last summer there was a 
 gentleman corned 'ere, stayin' in the neighbourhood, 'e 
 said 'e was. 'E corned and asked to see the monnv- 
 
 / 
 
 ments. Sort of interested, he was, like, and when he 
 corned to this un, he just stood quite still for a long 
 time, and then 'e said as how 'e thought pastures 
 green and livin' streams would be just what them 
 poor fellows would be most glad to find. I said as 
 'ow it might have been cold there " he pointed with 
 his thumb at the frozen scene. "'It was,' he said kind 
 of quiet like ; ' I know it was cold, for I was there.' ' 
 " He was there ? " faltered Jim. 
 " Oh, aye, 'e was there ! 'Im and me we 'ad quite 
 a long talk about it. Lame gentleman, he were, and 
 quiet like." 
 
 " How long ago was it did you say ? " 
 " I remember they was carting hay down in the 
 long meadow," replied the old man, pensively ; " but 
 I couldn't rightly say just what day that might a 
 been." 
 
 " But you are sure it was last summer ? " 
 " Yes ; that were last summer, sure enough." 
 " Did you find out the gentleman's name ? "
 
 EUREKA 339 
 
 " I asked 'im what 'is name might be, sir ; 'im and 
 me we 'ad got kind of friendly like ; and 'e give me a 
 piece of paper before 'e went away. Maybe you'd 
 like to see it ? 'E did say as how 'e'd be comin' back 
 one of these days. Seemed to take a sort of interest 
 in the monnyments, 'e did." 
 
 Jim's replies to the old sexton's rambling talk were 
 quite incoherent as they walked back to the forge, for 
 he was hardly conscious of what he was saying. The 
 old man entered the cottage, and from an old willow- 
 patterned jug on the high mantel shelf produced a 
 visiting card, which he handed to Jim. 
 
 It read : 
 
 Commander John Seymour, K.N. (retired) 
 Oak Cottage, Marazion. 
 
 He copied the name carefully on to a slip of paper, 
 and, mounting his bicycle, now repaired by the skilful 
 hands of young Tom, rode away down the lane. It 
 was raining now, but Jim little recked of the 
 weather, as he pedalled furiously along, his head 
 bent, and his hands gripping the handle-bars with a 
 grasp of iron. His mind was a tumult of conflicting 
 emotions, hope and fear alternately striving for the 
 mastery. The last months had been so utterly de- 
 void of hope ! Here was at least a change from the 
 deadly inaction. An expedition of which they had 
 never even heard ! that meant at least a clue to be 
 followed and there was always a chance a chance I
 
 340 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 He stopped at the post-office at Barnet, and sent 
 the following telegram to Captain Maitland. 
 
 Another chance. Come at once, do not tell Mildred. 
 
 JIM. 
 
 It was a recognized thing that all clues were to be 
 followed up together, and the next afternoon found 
 them both seated in a train whirling speedily along 
 on their long journey to Penzance. 
 
 On the seat beside Captain Maitland was a square 
 parcel wrapped in brown paper. It contained the 
 old writing-desk, which always accompanied them on 
 their expeditions, although up to the present matters 
 had never reached the point where the recognition of 
 it might have set a seal upon certainty. 
 
 "Don't build too much on this, my boy," the 
 Captain urged kindly. 
 
 " It's all very well to say ' don't,' " replied Jim, 
 quickly. " I do try not to. That is why I wired to 
 you not to tell Mildred. I try not to think about it 
 at all ; but, old man, it is a chance ! You can't say it 
 isn't a chance ! " 
 
 " Well, well, maybe ! But there are a good many 
 hours to be got through before we know the worst " 
 
 " Or the best," interrupted Jim. 
 
 " Or the best so go steady, my lad. Here, read 
 this leading article ; it's stiff enough to steady any- 
 one ! Read it straight through, every word ! I 
 refuse to discuss personal matters with you any more.
 
 EUREKA 341 
 
 I'm going to sleep Always sleep in the train 
 that's my motto ! " 
 
 He leaned back in his corner and shut his eyes, but 
 sleep refused to come at his bidding, and presently 
 he opened them again, and glanced at the opposite 
 corner of the carriage. Jim was leaning forward 
 smoking furiously; he held the folded paper before 
 him, but it was very evident that he was not reading. 
 Every now and then he would raise his hand, and 
 brush the hair back from his forehead with an im- 
 patient gesture. The Captain sighed. It was ridicu- 
 lous for a man of Jim's age to develop nerves, but 
 there was no doubt that he had got them, and got 
 them badly. " It can't go on," he said to himself. 
 "If this fails," and with the caution of old age, 
 he dared not entertain much hope, " we'll have to 
 tackle that old lady, or dispense with her permission, 
 and get them married. After all, it is a great fuss 
 about very little ! Lots of men have not got fathers, 
 and get on very well without them ! The boy has 
 taken it badly but once get them married then 
 Mildred can do the rest. They can't wait another 
 two years." Two years ! An eternity to the young, 
 but such a short time to the old, who have watched 
 the wheels of time for so long, and know so well the 
 pace at which they travel ! 
 
 They arrived at Penzance at a little before mid- 
 night, and went straight to an hotel. The Captain,
 
 342 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 wise in his generation, retired straight to his bed ; 
 but the younger man spent the remaining hours rest- 
 lessly pacing up and down the sea front, under the 
 starlit sky. After breakfast his impatience became 
 painful to witness. In vain the Captain pointed out 
 that it was impossible to descend upon a total stranger 
 at nine o'clock in the morning ; eleven was surely the 
 earliest hour permissible ! Finally it seemed cruel to 
 restrain him, and they stepped into a fly to drive to 
 the quiet village. 
 
 There was a delightful feeling of spring in the air, 
 the sea was calm and blue, gentle waves just lapping 
 the quiet sands with never a hint of turmoil or fret. 
 In the distance, the Mount rose clear above the azure 
 water, the sun striking golden gleams from the build- 
 ings on the summit. The soft hills on the left were 
 girdled with faint mist which was rising from the 
 marshy low-lying ground where the young osiers 
 shone redly orange in the sunlight. The grey tower 
 of the little church indicated where the village 
 nestles among the sheltering trees. 
 
 The carriage stopped at a gate close to the church, 
 and, passing under a low archway of yew, the two 
 men walked up a short flagged path to the door of 
 an old-fashioned, creeper-clad house. The bell was 
 answered by an elderly woman servant, who said that 
 Captain Seymour was at home ; he was in the garden 
 would the gentlemen step inside, and she would
 
 EUREKA 343 
 
 fetch him. They entered a small parlour with a low 
 ceiling crossed with heavy oak beams ; evidently a 
 bachelor room, for a pair of slippers lay before the 
 fire, and a neat row of pipes was arranged on a little 
 table beside an ancient and comfortable arm-chair. 
 The walls were covered with pictures, nautical in 
 character, nearly all of ships or sea-scapes. On the 
 mantelpiece was a sketch in pencil of a ship impris- 
 oned among ice, and underneath was written, " Sea- 
 gull, 1880." Next to it hung another drawing, very 
 similar in character, marked " Alert, 1875." A large 
 coloured engraving of the battle of the Nile occupied 
 a prominent position on the opposite wall, over a small 
 bookcase containing many volumes on exploration 
 and travel. 
 
 Jim wandered round, feverishly picking up one 
 trifle after another. The Captain stood upon the 
 hearth-rug, carefully examining the lining of his hat, 
 as if it contained some new and enthralling interest, 
 while a clock in the corner ticked slowly and aggres- 
 sively, as much as to say, " Don't be impatient ; I 
 shall certainly not hurry myself for you! " A few 
 moments passed thus, and then the door opened, and 
 a man came in. He was short and spare, and walked 
 slowly and with difficulty, being exceedingly lame. 
 He bowed. 
 
 "Good-morning," he said, glancing at the card in 
 his hand, and moving forward as he spoke.
 
 344 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 "I am afraid our visit must seem something in 
 the nature of an intrusion," said Captain Maitland. 
 " But learning by chance that you had been a member 
 of an expedition to the Polar regions in 1880 or 1881, 
 we have come to ask if you would be so kind as to 
 give us some information." 
 
 " Pray be seated," was the courteous reply. " If 
 you will question me, I will do my best to answer 
 fully. What was it you wished to know ? " 
 
 Jim walked to a small table which occupied the 
 centre of the room, and, resting his hands upon it, 
 leaned forward, and said : 
 
 " I am searching for a man whose name I do not 
 know who sailed somewhere about 1880 on a ship 
 the name of which I do not know leaving a wife 
 and a young child behind him." 
 
 Captain Seymour, who chanced to be standing im- 
 mediately opposite to Jim, lifted his face suddenly ; 
 the light from the window shone full on them both, 
 and Captain Maitland scanned the two faces earnestly 
 for a few seconds. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " When this man whose name I do not know 
 returned to England if he did return he found 
 he could not trace either his wife or child " 
 
 Jim's voice was not quite steady. Labouring as he 
 was under intense excitement, he found it difficult to 
 state his case clearly. Had any onlooker been pres-
 
 EUREKA 845 
 
 ent, they might have thought Captain Maitland's 
 behaviour curious, for after that one long look, he 
 retired to a chair, where he sat down, and proceeded 
 to unpack a parcel he had brought with him. Pa- 
 tiently untying the knots, he twisted the string with 
 care and neatness into a small hank, which he care- 
 fully placed in his pocket, and from the brown paper 
 he drew the desk, and, rising, placed it in the centre 
 of the table. Then he quietly resumed his seat. The 
 other men did not seem to notice his movements, and 
 Jim continued : 
 
 " Do you know have you heard a similar story 
 connected with any one who sailed with you ? " 
 
 "What is your reason for asking?" demanded 
 Captain Seymour, slowly. 
 
 " Because I have reason to believe that he 
 was my father ! " 
 
 The elder man swayed for a moment where he 
 stood ; then, drawing a chair close to the table, he sat 
 down, and covered his eyes with his hand. For some 
 moments silence reigned in the little room, broken 
 only by the ticking of the clock. At last Captain 
 Seymour spoke. 
 
 " I have heard a similar story," he said. " Please 
 tell me the details." 
 
 " On December 12, 1880," Jim spoke more 
 quickly now, his heart was thumping painfully, 
 " two people, Mr. and Mrs. Lucas, were staying in a
 
 S46 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 certain hotel in London. During the night there 
 was a fire close by a child was saved a child of 
 three or four years a boy " he hesitated. 
 "There were no other survivors. They adopted 
 the child, and brought him up as their own. He only 
 learnt the truth a few months ago. I am the 
 boy ! and I am looking for my father." 
 
 The man moved slightly, but did not uncover his 
 face. 
 
 " Proofs ? " he said, in a low, hoarse voice. 
 
 "I have no proofs only this desk, and one un- 
 finished letter." 
 
 Jim opened the desk ; he took out the sheet of paper 
 and pushed it across the table. Captain Seymour's 
 face was ashen white, but no whiter than Jim's, 
 which had grown haggard and strangely old in the 
 last few minutes. With trembling hands he fumbled 
 for his spectacles, and put them on ; then he took the 
 letter in his hand, and read it slowly through. Once 
 twice then a sharp cry broke from his lips. 
 " Mary ! " and he dropped his head upon his folded 
 arms. 
 
 Jim stood as if carved in stone ; his eyes fixed 
 upon the bowed head opposite him. The leaden 
 seconds passed the clock ticked with ponderous 
 deliberation somewhere outside a dog barked 
 furiously. 
 
 Then the man rose to his feet he glanced round
 
 EUKEKA S47 
 
 him as if uncertain of his surroundings then his 
 eyes met Jim's, met them, and held them for one long, 
 pregnant moment. Suddenly he stretched out both 
 his hands. 
 
 " Mary's boy " he faltered. " My son ! My son!"
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 AN OLD STORY 
 
 " One day with life and heart 
 Is more than time enough to find a world." 
 
 LOWELL. 
 
 NEAELT two hours later Jim walked across the 
 lawn at the back of the cottage, and found Captain 
 Maitland sitting in a wicker arm-chair, smoking his 
 pipe in peaceful, contemplative fashion. 
 
 " Old friend," he said, laying his hand on the Cap- 
 tain's shoulder with an impulsive, boyish gesture, 
 " Old friend, it's all right ! But come in I can't do 
 without you I can't try to thank you I can't 
 say what I feel, but God knows what I should have 
 done without you ! Come into the house there is 
 so much to say and to hear. He really is a dear old 
 boy, but he's naturally awfully bowled over by the 
 suddenness of it all. Who wouldn't be? "Wait a 
 second until I send that driver chap back with a 
 couple of telegrams ! " 
 
 He returned in a few minutes, and they walked 
 together into the parlour. Captain Seymour was still 
 sitting by the table ; his face was very pale, and bore 
 
 348
 
 AN OLD STORY 349 
 
 evident signs of recent emotion. He held out his 
 hand as Captain Maitland entered. 
 
 " Come in," he said. " The boy has told me some- 
 thing of your part in the story, but it isn't all clear to 
 me yet. It seems so extraordinary ! A return from 
 the grave after so many years ! " . . . 
 
 " Won't you tell us something of your side of it ? " 
 suggested Captain Maitland. " How was it that you 
 never knew ? " 
 
 " I will try and begin at the beginning. I first 
 met my wife when I was stationed at Esquimalt, in 
 British Columbia. Her name was Mary Robertson, 
 and she was living with an uncle and aunt. Her 
 uncle was an Englishman who had a big ranch near 
 Lytton, but, owing to failing health, he was living 
 down at the coast. When we became engaged to be 
 married, I was on the point of resigning my com- 
 mission ; I was deeply interested in Arctic exploration, 
 always had been ; and it was my fixed intention to 
 join a friend of mine who was preparing an expedition 
 to start from San Francisco. He was an American 
 whom I had known almost from boyhood, and 
 it was an old promise that I should go with him 
 whenever he was ready to go. Mary knew this, 
 and, being full of courage, she did not attempt to 
 dissuade me. We were married in 1874, November 
 26, it was. Our boy was born on December 10, 
 1876, and very soon after that the old uncle was
 
 350 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 killed by a fall from his horse, and his wife died soon 
 after. 
 
 " During these years, I had made several visits to 
 America, and our preparations were almost complete. 
 After the death of the old people, we moved to San 
 Francisco, and finally I sailed with the Seagull 
 expedition in July, 1879. The year before, this 
 cottage had been left me by an old cousin, who was 
 my sole relative ; in fact, both my wife and I were 
 singularly alone in the world, which of course made 
 matters more difficult later. It was arranged that 
 Mary should come back to England, and live here 
 during my absence, she felt it was my home ; I 
 had lived here as a boy. 
 
 " The story of the expedition can be told another 
 time ; it was a wretched tragedy ! We got into 
 heavy pack ice, and were held fast for twenty-two 
 long months. Poor Fisher, my friend, and the leader 
 of the party, died there, and many others ; the Sea- 
 gull was crushed and sunk in June, 1880. We 
 managed to drag our boats over the ice, and those 
 that were left of us reached Bennett's Island about 
 a month or six weeks later. 
 
 " September of the same year found us at the New 
 Siberian Islands, and from there we set out in three 
 boats for the mouth of the Lena. We met rough 
 weather, our boats were separated, and finally only 
 one, with three men alive, reached Irkutsk : Cray-
 
 AN OLD STORY 351 
 
 shaw, the second officer, one of the crew named 
 Dawson, and myself. Dawson died a few days later, 
 and Crayshaw only lived three weeks. I had got a 
 wound on my leg which had been open for months, 
 and when at last I managed to get hold of a doctor, 
 it had to be amputated, and it was a long job. It 
 was six months before I was able to move, and then I 
 fell ill just as I was starting for home, and was 
 raging with fever for ever so long. I had sent re- 
 peated letters to my wife, but had no answer; and 
 my anxiety with regard to her increased every day, 
 and materially retarded my recovery. Then, as soon 
 as I was better, came a rumour that some of the crew 
 of our other boat had been heard of, and I felt bound 
 to wait for confirmation of the report. It wasn't 
 true. 
 
 "At last, but not until the spring of 1882, I 
 reached England. I came straight down here, and 
 found only the two old servants who had lived with 
 my cousin. They had never heard of Mary ! 
 
 " The next few months were a ghastly nightmare ! 
 I hurried to San Francisco, where I found a few let- 
 ters from her, the latest written in October, 1876, 
 when she had left there. Later than that she was to 
 write to a place up north, where we hoped to touch 
 on our return journey. One of our acquaintances 
 had received a letter from her, posted in Liverpool, 
 announcing her safe arrival in England, and and
 
 352 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 after that, they had heard nothing! I went on to 
 Victoria, and there an old friend of Mary's had also 
 had a letter from Liverpool, but nothing later." 
 
 " Did you ever get any letters from the place up 
 north ? " asked Jim. 
 
 " No, nothing ! I account for that by the fact that 
 there was no chance of our being there for many 
 months, and probably Mary thought it would hardly 
 have been worth while posting until later." 
 
 "This unfinished letter mentions a budget," said 
 Captain Maitland ; " so that was probably it. Did 
 you advertise ? " 
 
 " Yes, I advertised ; but I don't suppose that any 
 one but Mary would have understood ; you see I 
 was so sure she was alive for years I couldn't be- 
 lieve that she was dead. Then I came down here, 
 and was very ill again from time to time ill and 
 despairing ! " 
 
 " How was it," asked Captain Maitland, " that 
 this expedition does not seem to have been reported 
 in any of the papers? Nor does it seem to have 
 been mentioned in the reports of the Geographical 
 Society." 
 
 " Well," replied Captain Seymour, " I think I can 
 understand that. It was really a private venture ; 
 Fisher was a rich man, and practically financed it 
 himself, and he was always particular that the re- 
 porters should not get hold of any information about
 
 OLD STORY 353 
 
 him or the voyage. You know what the American 
 Press is ! It ended in his having quite a row with 
 the newspaper men. I know, however, that they did 
 report his death and the loss of the Seagull, and they 
 also had a paragraph about my return." 
 
 " Were there several Englishmen on board ? " en- 
 quired Jim. 
 
 " Only three. Crayshaw, Baine, and myself. The 
 others were American, Canadian, Norwegian a 
 mixed crew. Good men, though ! They deserved a 
 better fate." 
 
 " I can't see now," said Jim, presently, " why you 
 didn't happen to see any of the advertisements. I 
 don't mean the ones in 1880, of course but we 
 have been advertising for months ! " 
 
 " I seldom see the London daily papers. I take in 
 the weekly ' Times,' and the local paper, and one or 
 two magazines ; have done so for years. When I 
 first came home, I hunted in every newspaper I could 
 lay my hands on, but after awhile I gave it up in 
 despair. For years I haven't looked at an advertise- 
 ment column." 
 
 "I can understand that," said Captain Maitland. 
 " I never read them myself until lately." 
 
 "It is curious that you should have traced me at 
 last through that memorial to poor Baine." 
 
 "I only saw it quite by chance," said Jim. "My 
 bicycle broke down, and while I was waiting for it
 
 354 TEEVOE LOEDSHIP 
 
 to be repaired, the old sexton begged me to go into 
 the church." 
 
 "I was staying with an old shipmate of mine close 
 by, last summer. One afternoon we were all sitting 
 at tea, and the conversation turned on Arctic voyages, 
 and some one asked me what was the name of my ves- 
 sel. It so happened that the daughter of the rector 
 of North Mead was there. e The Seagull,' she ex- 
 claimed. ( Why, that was the name of Gilbert Baine's 
 ship.' ' It was,' I replied. ' Did you know him ? ' And 
 then she explained. ' How slight a chance may raise 
 or sink a soul.' ' 
 
 Captain Maitland capped the quotation "'Or 
 that power which erring men call chance,' " he said, 
 quietly. 
 
 " Aye ! " said Captain Seymour, thoughtfully, and 
 for a few minutes no one spoke. He was holding the 
 letter in his hand, and sat gazing at it. Then he 
 roused himself. "This desk was a wedding present to 
 my mother. Do you see that scratch?" he asked 
 with a smile. " I did that with my first pen-knife." 
 Then, rising, he opened a cupboard, and took from it 
 a miniature. " This was your mother," he said, 
 handing it to Jim. " That picture was with me all 
 the time - 
 
 A young face smiled up at Jim from the ivory, 
 gaily, happily, with no hint of tragedy or loss. 
 His mother, and a stranger ! And, as he looked at it,
 
 AN OLD STORY 355 
 
 he thought of another face, older, plainer, it was true, 
 but one whose every look had been loving and devoted 
 the only mother he had ever known ! 
 
 " You have your mother's eyes," said his father. 
 
 " But your face," said Captain Maitland, quickly. 
 " The likeness between you is extraordinary." 
 
 " When will you come, sir," asked Jim, " to see 
 my Mr. and Mrs. Lucas ? " 
 
 "Whenever you will. To-morrow, if you like," 
 was the reply. 
 
 " And Mildred," continued Jim. " I have tele- 
 graphed. I know you will like her I am sure you 
 will." 
 
 Captain Seymour stood up. 
 
 " My boy ! " he said kindly, laying his hand on 
 Jim's shoulder. "Chance or let us be plain and 
 honest in our gratitude God has brought you to 
 me. You have lived many years without me ; your 
 life lies before you ; circumstances of which I have 
 no knowledge have laid it in lines of which I know 
 nothing. Kind souls I do not know have been your 
 parents in fact, if not in truth. Any affection you 
 can give me in the future I will take with thankful- 
 ness, for I am a lonely man, and need it sorely ; but, 
 understand me, I make no claims ! Thinking mat- 
 ters over, as I have thought them over continuously 
 for twenty years, I have come to see that I did your 
 mother and you a grievous wrong. I should never 
 have left her, or you."
 
 356 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 " But she was willing," Jim said, trying to speak a 
 comforting word. 
 
 " Aye ! she was willing, brave soul ! but that did 
 not alter the wrong. It was not as if it was my 
 duty to go merely pleasure the love of adven- 
 ture a purely selfish thing. I did wrong. God 
 knows I have paid the price in years of loneliness 
 and remorse. But now that I have found my son, 
 to whom I have never been a father one thing at 
 least is clear to me. I have no claims no right to 
 advise or direct. I will not interfere." He held up 
 his hand with a gesture of silence, as Jim tried to in- 
 terrupt. " I will not interfere, I promise you, or be 
 a burden in any way. But I must see Mr. and Mrs. 
 Lucas, at once, if may be, if only to make known 
 to them the fact that you must still be theirs for 
 they are old, and need you, and you owe them much. 
 And I must see your Mildred " 
 
 "You left a son," interposed Captain Maitland, 
 kindly, "but now you have found not only a son, 
 but a daughter." 
 
 Captain Seymour smiled. 
 
 " Let us go, then, at once. We will go to-morrow." 
 
 " Are you sure that you are equal to the journey, 
 sir ? " asked Jim, quickly, for indeed his newly found 
 father looked very frail and ill. 
 
 " Quite equal ! " he responded stoutly. " Your 
 coming has given me new life. A lame dog, it is
 
 AN OLD STOEY 357 
 
 true, but a live one for all that ! How I can now 
 thank God that in His infinite wisdom He did not 
 answer my prayers ! For years I have prayed to go, 
 and now I only pray He may grant me a few more 
 years to know my son ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 AFTER THE WEDDING 
 
 " There is a great deal of unmapped country within us which would 
 have to be taken into account in an explanation of our gusts and storms." 
 
 GEOEGB ELIOT. 
 
 AND so, after days of storm and stress, the course 
 of true love did at last run smooth ; and in April, 
 when all the earth had donned her fairest, freshest 
 green, when the daffodils were waving in the sunlight, 
 and the birds were singing merrily, Mildred and Jim 
 were married in the little church at i Trevor Lordship.' 
 
 Spring smiled on them, and the weather was such 
 as permitted the reporter of the local paper to com- 
 mence his description of the wedding with the cus- 
 tomary line, " Happy is the bride the sun shines on ! " 
 The want of originality in this opening phrase was 
 amply atoned for by a particularly flowery paragraph 
 further on, in which he stated that " the bride looked 
 charming in a gown of white satin duchesse, richly 
 adorned with Brussels * point to point ! ' His fancy 
 fairly ran riot in superfluous verbosity over the 
 guests, the bridesmaids, and the wedding presents, and 
 soared to a striking flight in the closing sentence, 
 which read, " The happy pair left amid a hurricane 
 of rice and a storm of vociferous cheers, to spend the 
 
 358
 
 AFTER THE WEDDING 359 
 
 honeymoon at Marazion, the country seat of the 
 bridegroom's family." This elegant burst of rhetoric 
 was read aloud to the assembled party at ( Trevor 
 Lordship/ a few days after the wedding, and caused 
 much amusement. 
 
 Many of our old friends were seated on the lawn, 
 enjoying a foretaste of summer in the brilliant sun- 
 shine which flickered through the young green of the 
 chestnut-tree and fell upon the white carpet of fallen 
 blossoms beneath it. The old house stood bathed in 
 the golden light, which lit up the mellow tones of the 
 ancient brickwork and stone, and fell full on a corner 
 of the wall where the peacock sunned himself in all 
 his arrogant pride. The fountain murmured a gentle 
 accompaniment to the chattering of the rooks in the 
 elm-trees, who, with the return of spring, were once 
 more noisily occupied with the cares of a new genera- 
 tion. 
 
 Miss Price was seated in her favourite wicker 
 chair. The mushroom hat, which apparently defied 
 the hand of time, and survived all changes of the 
 seasons, was firmly tied under her chin, and her 
 hands were clasped round the handle of her stick. 
 Her shrewd, kindly glance rested first upon one and 
 then another, as the ball of conversation was kept 
 merrily rolling; but it always returned to and re- 
 mained longer with Eleanor, who was sitting nearly 
 opposite to her. It appeared that her scrutiny was
 
 360 TKEVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 not altogether satisfactory to her, for invariably, as 
 she watched her friend, a little frown showed itself 
 on her forehead, and twice she murmured testily, 
 " Chut ! Chut ! " under her breath. 
 
 " Certainly," she said to herself, " Eleanor is 
 thinner, much thinner. Not but what it suits her, 
 it really does ; but why should she be thinner ? She 
 looks pale, too ; but perhaps that is because she is 
 wearing white. Now ! why should she be pale and 
 thin ? " Her kind heart pondered over the question, 
 although her cogitations were unobservable. " Is it 
 
 O O 
 
 because that poor man is dead, I wonder ? Surely it 
 can't be that ! No ! it must be because poor Sir 
 Henry seems to be possessed of a dumb devil so far 
 as she is concerned ; and yet he watches her all 
 the time. Look at him now ! His eyes never leave 
 her. I wonder ! I must find out. Oh, dear ! How 
 I should like to shake that man ! He does want it 
 so badly!" 
 
 Joan's voice roused her from her meditations. 
 
 "I did like being a bridesmaid," the child was 
 saying. " But I felt all the time I should so much 
 rather have been the bride ! Oh ! I should like to 
 be married soon ! " 
 
 " You must wait a little while," said Captain 
 Maitland, smiling. 
 
 " Yes, I suppose I must wait until some one asks 
 me," Joan returned, with a sigh. " But I do hope it
 
 AFTER THE WEDDING 361 
 
 will be soon. I should like to have a lot of presents, 
 and cut the cake ! " 
 
 " Wouldn't a birthday do as well ?" asked Sir Henry. 
 
 " No," said Joan, decidedly. " Birthdays are much 
 duller. You don't have orange blossoms or brides- 
 maids, or nothing; and after they are over, you go on 
 just the same as if you hadn't had one. Now, if I 
 was married, I should go away with Jim and live in 
 a teeny-weeny house, and pour out the tea, and have 
 visiting cards, and " 
 
 " Have to order the dinner, and darn your hus- 
 band's socks ! " put in Minnie Ross, laughing. 
 
 " Oh, my husband will only have one leg," said Joan, 
 decidedly. " I can knit, and I can turn the heel, but I 
 can't make two feet the same size ; so I must marry a 
 man with only one leg." 
 
 " I don't think a one-legged husband would be al- 
 together a treasure," laughed Minnie. 
 
 " I daresay not," Joan replied, calmly. " But then, 
 husbands always are tiresome ; at least, so Mrs Dobbs 
 says, and she has had three, so she ought to know. 
 She says they're like clothes. . They give a lot of 
 trouble, but you have to have them." 
 
 Mrs. Lucas, who had been perusing a pile of papers, 
 suddenly asked : 
 
 " Now, which would you choose ? Plain or 
 coloured?" 
 
 The old lady's whole time and attention were
 
 362 TKEVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 occupied with lists of furniture and household requi- 
 sites for the plenishing of Jim's new home, and she had 
 been entirely oblivious of the foregoing conversation. 
 
 " Bless me ! " ejaculated Miss Price, in surprise. 
 
 Minnie's husband roused himself from his comfort- 
 able position at his pretty wife's feet. 
 
 "Well," he said seriously, "opinions vary. In 
 some climates coloured are preferred, black and 
 woolly ; but personally, if I were a young lady, 
 I should choose, not necessarily plain, but most 
 decidedly white ! " 
 
 " What does the man mean ? " asked Mrs. Lucas, in 
 mild surprise. " I was talking of drawing-room cur- 
 tains!" 
 
 " Here comes Captain Seymour," said Sir Henry, 
 suddenly. " Now Joan, no more talk about one- 
 legged men, whatever you do." 
 
 " Of course not," said Joan, loftily. " But I know 
 he wouldn't mind, because I asked him all about it ; 
 a bear had his other leg for dinner ! " 
 
 "Lady Trevor," said Captain Seymour, as he 
 limped into the circle under the tree, " I don't think 
 I have ever seen a more beautiful garden than you 
 have here, or more magnificent trees ! " 
 
 " It is lovely, isn't it ? And this part of the 
 country is noted for its elms," answered Eleanor. 
 
 "Do you live here all the year round, Lady 
 Trevor?" asked Maud King.
 
 AFTEB THE WEDDING 868 
 
 She was a friend of Mildred's, who had acted as 
 one of her bridesmaids. 
 
 " Yes, all the year ; and it is always beautiful." 
 
 " I have loved my visit here," continued the girl. 
 " It has been delicious, but, do you know I don't 
 think I could bear to live in the country all the year 
 round ! " 
 
 " Why not, Miss King?" asked Sir Henry. 
 
 " Well I do love London. You are right in the 
 middle of everything." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " agreed Miss Price. " Skating on the 
 surface, with a strong predilection for the thinnest 
 ice ! " 
 
 " Oh, no ! " cried the girl. " I don't mean that a 
 bit ! It is just the skating on the surface which is so 
 horrid. I want to get right inside ! The country 
 seems such a backwater of life, somehow." 
 
 " I used to think so," said Minnie. " But I am not 
 sure that I do now." 
 
 " Some of us prefer the backwater," said Captain 
 Seymour. 
 
 " Yes," agreed Miss Price ; " some of us do. But 
 life in the country isn't necessarily life in a back- 
 water. It need not be." 
 
 " Ah ! " said Eleanor, quickly. " But it often is ! " 
 
 "It seems to me," said Captain Maitland, joining 
 in the discussion, "that people differ. So much 
 depends on whether you are conscious of the rapid
 
 364 TEEVOE LOEDSHIP 
 
 stream beyond. Everything goes by comparisons, 
 doesn't it ? " 
 
 " One may live for years and know nothing of the 
 stream beyond/' replied Eleanor, thoughtfully. 
 
 " Some of us have known it," put in Miss Price ; 
 " and, as Captain Seymour says, choose the backwater 
 which, after all, need not be stagnant." 
 
 " But others know nothing of it," repeated Eleanor. 
 
 " Yes ! " agreed Miss King, eagerly. " That is 
 just it ! I am not thinking of people who have known 
 life, but of those who live without knowing it ! Per- 
 sonally, I would rather be in the strongest part of the 
 stream." 
 
 " That is the modern spirit," Miss Price said kindly, 
 " and the spirit of youth." 
 
 " That may be. But just think," urged the girl, 
 " how much people miss by never knowing the heart 
 of things. It is difficult for me to explain what I 
 mean; but somehow one would hate just drifting ! It 
 may be easier ; it probably is ; but," she added seriously, 
 " I, for one, would rather have the bruises than be 
 right out of the battle when there are so many to 
 fight for. To do something worth doing, and feel 
 something worth feeling that is the main thing. 
 A friend of mine wrote some lines about it the other 
 day, which are just what I feel. She named them, 
 1 The Cry of the Strenuous.' " 
 
 " Will you repeat them ? " asked Eleanor.
 
 AFTER THE WEDDING 365 
 
 "'If we may not succeed, and attain our ambition, 
 And hear sometime critics acclaim and applaud, 
 We would rather go down 'mid their jeers and derision 
 Than in silence. Ignored ! 
 
 " ' If we may not know Love in its uttermost splendour, 
 To ask all to yield all to find our soul's mate, 
 The Love that nor prices, nor grudges surrender ! 
 We would rather know Hate ! ! 
 
 " ' If we may not know Life, the Life that's worth living, 
 To taste of her fulness, draw breath of her breath ! 
 To steep heart and soul in her taking and giving! 
 We would rather know Death ! ! 
 
 " { If we may not be there where the quick volleys rattle, 
 Take part in the strife, be it triumph or rout, 
 If we may not be ranked in the van of the battle 
 Ah ! Dear God ! Put us out ! ! ' " 
 
 " Frankly Pagan ! " commented Captain Seymour, 
 after a pause. 
 
 "Is it ? " queried Eleanor. " I am not sure ! Of 
 course all that part about ' death ' and ( going out ' is 
 all wrong. No one can throw up the sponge because 
 they can't have what they want but I think that a 
 great deal of it is absolutely true. The part about 
 what we crave for ! It is silence, inaction, inanition, 
 which are unbearable ! One must go for the very 
 best, and when once one realizes what it is, it must 
 be that or nothing. The very fulness of Life and 
 Love I am sure that is what God meant us to have. 
 1 The life that's worth living ' ! ' the taking and 
 giving ' ! that is perfectly true ! That is the thing
 
 366 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 that matters ! Without it we are crippled, and drop 
 out wounded without ever having struck a 
 blow ! " 
 
 Sir Henry's eyes were fixed upon his wife. Her 
 face was flushed and earnest, and there was a note of 
 passion in her voice, very different from her usual 
 level tone. 
 
 " That is not affected by town or country," said 
 Miss Price, rather lightly, rising as she spoke. She 
 seemed anxious to change the subject. " Come, 
 Eleanor, let us go for a stroll. My old bones get 
 stiff with sitting, and it is none too warm." 
 
 Eleanor rose at once. She had quickly regained 
 her composure, and replied quietly: 
 
 " Come along ! Let us go across the park to the 
 beech wood." 
 
 They walked in silence for some moments, and 
 then Miss Price said: 
 
 "You have a large party here, Eleanor; but I miss 
 one face." 
 
 " Ah ! Poor Mr. Bolding," replied Eleanor, quickly. 
 "We all miss him very much; especially Joan, I 
 think. The child was devoted to him." 
 
 " He was very fond of you." 
 
 " I know. I liked him so much, and so did Henry. 
 There have been so many losses lately in this dread- 
 ful war. Yet I think it is what he would have 
 wished himself, he died most gallantly in action.
 
 AFTER THE WEDDING 367 
 
 I think he was one of those who wanted to be right 
 in the van of the battle. But we all miss him 
 terribly." 
 
 Miss Price gave an audible sigh. It might have 
 been sympathy, but it sounded more like relief. 
 
 " You will miss Mildred too, now that she is married. 
 It will make a difference in your life." 
 
 " It will make a great difference to Joan ! But 
 after all Mildred will be happy." 
 
 "What are you going to do?" said Miss Price, 
 abruptly. 
 
 She stopped suddenly as she spoke, and looked 
 straight at Eleanor. For a moment Eleanor's habit- 
 ual reserve failed her, or perhaps she had not entirely 
 regained her self-control. 
 
 " Do ? " she repeated almost bitterly. " Do ? 
 Why, nothing ! What can I do, except go on ? " 
 
 Miss Price laid a hand kindly on her arm. 
 
 "Eleanor," she said gently, "do not allow your- 
 self to get bitter ! Bitterness is the refuge of fools ! 
 It never did anything but harm. You are making 
 a great mistake." 
 
 " I am not making a mistake now," said Eleanor, 
 more quietly ; " I am reaping the harvest of a great 
 mistake." 
 
 "Not a bit of it! " retorted Miss Price. "You are 
 making a mistake now." 
 
 " I have done everything," she said passionately.
 
 368 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 " But it is no good ! However, you are right. It is 
 no use being bitter. I must just learn to do without." 
 
 " You think he does not care ? " asked Miss Price, 
 very kindly. 
 
 Eleanor hesitated. 
 
 " How can I think otherwise ? He does not want 
 any more than he has his home and his books." 
 
 " His books ! " echoed Miss Price. " I have been 
 here a week, and he has never stayed in his library 
 for half an hour at a time ! " 
 
 " There have been guests. Don't let us talk about 
 it any more, dear friend ; and don't worry your kind 
 heart about me. I must just go on, and learn to be 
 content. I am going away to-morrow, after you all 
 leave. I am going to take Joan to the sea for a fort- 
 night. We are going to Renwick. I am sure she 
 wants a breath of sea air; she is growing fast, and I 
 haven't been very happy about her lately. I think 
 she felt the shock of the accident last autumn more 
 than we thought at the time, and just now late hours 
 and excitement have not done her any good." 
 
 "It will do you good, too," returned Miss Price. 
 " I should like to see you with a little more colour. 
 I expect you have been over-tired with the bustle of 
 the wedding, especially after the strain of so many 
 months of uncertainty. It is wonderful to think how 
 things have come out right in the end. It is very 
 hard to have patience, but they do come right." 
 
 Eleanor made no reply.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 PLAIN SPEAKING 
 
 " Truth has rough flavours if we bite it through." 
 
 GEOHGE ELIOT. 
 
 SEVERAL of the wedding guests left early the next 
 morning, but Miss Price was not among them ; she 
 had, so she told Eleanor, made up her mind to go no 
 further than Peterborough that day, as she had a 
 cousin there whom she had not seen for many years, 
 and she thought she would go to an hotel for the 
 night, and pay her a visit on the following day. 
 
 " So, in order to avoid a long evening in a strange 
 place, my dear, with your kind permission, I will 
 not leave here until the six o'clock train." 
 
 "By all means," replied Eleanor. "Only I am 
 afraid I am going earlier. I am so sorry. I would 
 put off going until to-morrow, but I am afraid Joan 
 would be so disappointed." 
 
 " Don't think of altering your plans for me ! " said 
 Miss Price. " I wouldn't allow it for a moment. Sir 
 Henry will look after me, I am sure, if he will be at 
 home, and at leisure." 
 
 "With pleasure," answered Sir Henry. "Would 
 you care for a drive this afternoon ? " 
 
 2 869
 
 370 TKEVOR LOEDSHIP 
 
 " No, thank you," said the old lady. " I will just sit 
 happily in the garden, and you shall tell me all about 
 your new book, and when we are to expect it." 
 
 " I am afraid it has not progressed lately. I must 
 atone for past idleness now that the wedding is over." 
 
 "I wish you were coming to Renwick, Uncle 
 Henry," said Joan. " Do come ! and we will build 
 sand castles, and paddle, and have great fun." 
 
 " You would find me rather a dull playfellow," he 
 answered, smiling. " Ah ! here is Minnie, all ready 
 to start." 
 
 Minnie appeared, looking extremely charming in 
 her smart travelling-suit. 
 
 " Wherever is Hugh ? " she asked. " I am sure 
 he hasn't had his medicine, and I told him he was to 
 take it before he started ! He really is too tiresome ! " 
 
 Sir Henry smiled. Minnie's solicitude about her 
 tall husband was pretty to see. 
 
 " Hugh is really much stronger, isn't he ? His 
 looks certainly do credit to your nursing." 
 
 " Oh, yes, he is much better ; but he isn't fit yet, 
 and I do want him to be quite strong. Oh ! there 
 you are ! " she added, as Major Ross's stalwart form 
 appeared in the doorway. " Come along this minute ! 
 Have you had your medicine? That's all right! 
 Where have you been ? The carriage will be round 
 directly ! " 
 
 Minnie stood in front of him, and, rising on tiptoe,
 
 PLAIN SPEAKING 371 
 
 rearranged the silk scarf which was already folded 
 neatly round his neck, and gave him sundry little 
 pats; at which he laughed, and then put his arm 
 through hers with a gesture of affection and mutual 
 understanding, and said, 
 
 " All serene, eh ! What a fussy little woman it is ! " 
 
 " How long are you going to be in England ? " 
 asked Miss Price. 
 
 " My leave is up next month. I rejoin the regi- 
 ment at Gibraltar ; and Minnie is coming too. aren't 
 you, Min ? " 
 
 " I'm coming," she said, smiling. " I can't trust 
 you alone again;" but there was a tone in her voice 
 which belied the flippancy of her words. 
 
 " Have you broken it to our mother ? " asked Sir 
 Henry. 
 
 " No, not yet. But I shall to-night. Perhaps she 
 will come too." 
 
 " Perhaps ! " echoed her husband, with a deliberate 
 wink, which made every one laugh outright. 
 
 " Here's the carriage," said Minnie. " Where are 
 Eleanor and Joan ? " 
 
 But at this moment they descended the staircase. 
 Joan was clasping a very highly coloured tin bucket, 
 and Alphonse Daudet trotted behind, proudly carry- 
 ing a wooden spade in his mouth. 
 
 " Look at my bucket ! " cried Joan, excitedly. 
 " Look at" my beautiful bucket. Dobbs got it for
 
 372 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 me. Oh, Dobbs ! " she added, as she espied him on 
 the box seat, " thank you so much ! It's perfectly 
 lovely!" Dobbs touched his hat with a smile. "Oh, 
 Aunt Eleanor! Don't you wish Dobbs was coming 
 too ? I am sure he would dig beautifully." 
 
 Eleanor kissed Miss Price warmly. 
 
 " Good-bye," she said. " Do come and see us again 
 soon. I have hardly seen anything of you this time." 
 
 " I'll come," returned the old lady, " as soon as 
 ever you want me. Good-bye, my dear." Then she 
 whispered, "Be of good courage. Remember all 
 will come right." 
 
 Eleanor took her seat next to Minnie, while Sir 
 Henry captured the excited Daudet, who was caper- 
 ing about and barking wildly, and placed him on 
 Joan's lap. Then he turned to his wife. 
 
 " Have you everything ? " he asked. " Where is 
 Wilson ? " 
 
 "Wilson has gone on with the luggage. Yes, I 
 think we have everything." 
 
 " Let me hear of your safe arrival. Telegraph me 
 to-night." He laid his hand on hers. "You will 
 telegraph, won't you ? " 
 
 Her reply was lost in the tumult, as Joan strove 
 in vain to quiet her dog, and only encouraged him to 
 further and yet more noisy yapping. Another mo- 
 ment, and the carriage was disappearing down the 
 drive.
 
 PLAIN SPEAKING 873 
 
 " What a noise ! " laughed Miss Price, as they 
 turned into the house. " Now, if you are busy, pray 
 do not consider me. I have letters to write this 
 morning, and after luncheon I shall hope for your 
 company." 
 
 " Certainly," Sir Henry replied courteously. " Are 
 you sure you will not like a drive, or do you prefer 
 the garden this afternoon ? " 
 
 " Oh, I prefer the garden," said the old lady, decid- 
 edly. " The garden, and intellectual conversation." 
 
 He smiled as he waited for her to pass to the foot 
 of the stairs. "Au revoir," he said; and then he 
 walked away to the library. 
 
 Miss Price retired to her room, but the excuse of 
 letters to write seemed to have been a polite fiction, 
 as she at once took a chair, and sat down by the open 
 window. 
 
 " A hotel in Peterborough ! " she said to herself, 
 with a sniff of disapproval, as she looked round the 
 well-appointed bedroom. " Never mind, it will only 
 be for one night! And it is quite true I have a 
 cousin in Peterborough, but as to paying her a 
 visit ? I doubt it ! She and I have done vastly well 
 without each other for years ; we always quarrelled 
 when we did meet ! But she has been useful for once 
 in her life, and I am grateful to her for the first 
 time. She gave me a valid excuse for a change in 
 my plans. I have succeeded so far, but the next step
 
 374 TREVOK LOEDSHIP 
 
 is far more difficult. Probably I am a fool. I know 
 that, but nevertheless my mind is made up." 
 
 It was Miss Price's fixed intention to act in direct 
 contradiction to the principles of a lifetime. She 
 was going to interfere. She had arrived at this de- 
 cision during the previous night, when she had spent 
 several hours pondering over the situation. She had, 
 up to the present, prided herself on " minding her 
 own business " exclusively, but she realized that this 
 excellent precept may be carried to excess, and can 
 be, as it frequently is, just an excuse which we offer 
 to ourselves for leaving undone something which is 
 distasteful to us. It is one thing to pry into another's 
 private affairs, but it is another to give a word of 
 warning to a fellow-creature who is heading straight 
 for a precipice ; and this was, in her opinion, exactly 
 what Sir Henry was doing. Therefore she had de- 
 cided to delay her departure, in order to have an hour's 
 undisturbed conversation with him. 
 
 " After luncheon will be the best time. There is 
 no sense to be got out of a hungry man. I will just 
 sit here with my knitting until the time arrives." 
 
 The old lady was never one to beat about the 
 bush ; she preferred a direct attack, and never wasted 
 time. Accordingly when, some two hours later, they 
 left the dining-room, and Sir Henry had, with her 
 permission, lighted a cigar, she led the way into the 
 garden, and, also, into action !
 
 PLAIN SPEAKING 875 
 
 " Sir Henry," she said, without any preamble, " you 
 may be surprised when I tell you that I delayed my 
 departure on purpose to have a talk with you. And 
 now, by your leave, we will go straight to the heart 
 of the matter. Do you know what is wrong with 
 Eleanor?" 
 
 "With Eleanor?" he repeated, completely taken 
 by surprise. 
 
 " Yes, with Eleanor ! I am, as you know, her 
 oldest friend, and I am also, I think, old enough to 
 claim the privilege of what some people might call 
 interference. A certain license may be accorded to 
 me, as an old woman who, as an interested spectator, 
 sees very clearly all the points of the game ; points 
 which are often entirely overlooked by the players 
 themselves. I think also that you and I are suffi- 
 ciently good friends for you to realize that I am not 
 acting without a purpose, or without due reflection. 
 Eleanor is not really ill but she is very unhappy." 
 
 " I know it," he said quietly. 
 
 " Very well, then ! If you know it, why do you 
 let it go on ? " 
 
 " I ? I would do anything in the world for her 
 happiness ! " 
 
 " Come and sit down on this seat, and answer me 
 another plain question. This is a time for plain 
 speaking. Do you care for your wife ? Really care, 
 I mean ? Not the tepid, half-hearted affection which
 
 376 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 was all you offered her when she married you. If 
 Eleanor had been wise, she would have flung it back 
 in your face ! But something much more than that ? " 
 
 Sir Henry raised his head, and met her anxious 
 look of scrutiny fair and square. 
 
 " I love her with all my heart and soul," he said 
 slowly, and perfectly distinctly. 
 
 " Very well, then. What is the trouble ? " 
 
 " The fault is mine, and mine alone. Your words 
 are hard, but they are absolutely just. The half- 
 hearted affection of two years ago, and since then 
 I have thought I have feared that I was too late. 
 That she did not care for me at all." 
 
 A sudden light broke upon Miss Price. 
 
 " You mean that you thought she cared for some 
 one else ? " 
 
 Sir Henry nodded assent. 
 
 " And now ? " 
 
 " I do not know. You see when he was killed 
 I thought Eleanor would feel it so much I hardly 
 liked to tell her " 
 
 "And she didn't?" 
 
 " No, she didn't. She was sorry " 
 
 " Of course she was sorry so was every one. And 
 then?" 
 
 " And then I have been waiting " 
 
 " Now, one more question; and then I have fin- 
 ished. You say that you love your wife earnestly and
 
 PLAIN SPEAKING 377 
 
 truly. Well has it ever struck you to tell her 
 so?" 
 
 Sir Henry did not answer for a moment. Then 
 he faltered, 
 
 "But- She must" 
 
 "Listen to me," said the old lady, earnestly. 
 " Eleanor married you after years of waiting ; years 
 .in which the best in her had been stunted and re- 
 pressed by a life of ceaseless monotony, ceaseless 
 unselfishness, and constant thought for others. Then 
 you came along, and what do you do ? You bring 
 her here, to act as housekeeper, which, by the way, 
 she does admirably, you think that, having given 
 her a comfortable home, you have done all that is 
 necessary ! You have gone your own way without 
 any thought for her. "Wait a minute ! " she added, 
 as he tried to speak ; " bear with me a little longer. 
 Eleanor was asleep drugged in heart and mind to a 
 state of inanition but now she is awake ! Surely 
 you can see that for yourself. You heard her speak 
 yesterday ! Of course she is unhappy ! " 
 
 Sir Henry rose suddenly; he took one or two 
 rapid turns up and down the gravel path. Then he 
 stopped in front of Miss Price, who was waiting for 
 him to speak. When he did so, the words came 
 rapidly, in a tone very unlike his usual quiet way of 
 speaking. 
 
 " Can you understand," he said, " that a man may
 
 378 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 come to despise himself so utterly for blind selfish- 
 ness, that when his eyes are opened he hesitates ? 
 You see, I see so plainly now, that I deserve nothing 
 at her hands; and I have been a coward. I could not 
 face the thought of losing what I now have the 
 sight of her face her sweet companionship. For 
 I know that if she cannot forgive me if she does 
 not want me then it means the end of every- 
 thing for me." 
 
 " Well," said Miss Price, rising as she spoke, " if 
 you want my advice, it is this. Go and tell her what 
 you have told me, and see what she says ! " 
 
 " I will ! " he replied quickly. " I will go at once ! " 
 
 " Excellent ! And don't bear a grudge against me 
 for my plain speaking," Miss Price said, smiling. 
 
 "I shall not do that," he assured her, "in any 
 case. I hardly dare to hope but I shall know 
 soon." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! you will know soon ! " agreed Miss Price, 
 with a twinkle in her eye which was more akin to 
 tears than laughter.
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 AT LAST 
 
 "I think we had the chief of all love's joys 
 Only in knowing that we love each other." 
 
 GEORGE ELIOT. 
 
 IT was two days later, and Sunday evening. 
 Eleanor had seen little Joan safely tucked up in bed, 
 and then, wrapping a lace scarf round her head and 
 shoulders, she had strolled out on to the now deserted 
 esplanade of the little seaside town. Here she had 
 found a seat in a sheltered corner, and sat commun- 
 ing with her own thoughts. 
 
 The sea lay before her, calm and serene ; the bril- 
 liant moon was reflected in one straight path of glory 
 to her feet; the myriad stars looked down from the 
 sapphire vault above; and as she gazed up at them, a 
 recollection of a verse of her childhood came into her 
 mind, " Little pin pricks into Heaven, just to let the 
 glory through ! " 
 
 All was very calm and very still. Now and again 
 the sound of voices came from the houses which clus- 
 tered on the cliff just above, or the faint echo of the 
 organ rolled across the silence from the old church 
 where the evening service was just coming to an end, 
 
 370
 
 380 TREVOR, LORDSHIP 
 
 to die away again, and only the gentle lapping of the 
 wavelets advancing and retreating on the moonlit 
 sand remained, an echo of the everlasting music of 
 the sea. Monsieur Alphonse Daudet had exhausted 
 himself by chasing shadows in the moonlight, and 
 now lay curled up in a soft, warm ball, in the folds 
 of her gown. 
 
 Eleanor had, of late, endeavoured to avoid all 
 thought, to erect a barrier round her inmost heart, 
 which even she herself should not pass, to resume the 
 attitude of placid insensibility which had served her 
 so well for so many years, before it had been rudely 
 disturbed by the advent of Love, which had come to 
 her, not gently or kindly, but in a wave of emotion, 
 and stress of feeling, leaving her, high and dry, on a 
 barren and solitary rock, tortured with longing, and 
 racked with vain regrets. 
 
 To-night, however, this barrier no longer existed. 
 The conversation under the chestnut-tree, and her 
 subsequent outburst of confidence to her old friend, 
 had crumbled it to dust, and all the work of months, 
 and all the effort of will which had gone to the build- 
 ing of it, were rendered void and useless. To-night 
 her heart lay bare and bleeding, without veil or pro- 
 tection, and Eleanor was engaged in the painful task 
 of probing and dissecting, with a view to ascertaining 
 exactly its condition, and of finding, if possible, some 
 method of healing. For wounds are unsightly, and
 
 AT LAST 381 
 
 cannot be permitted to remain untended or ignored, 
 lest the whole body suffer, and the very mainspring of 
 life be broken. 
 
 In the last twenty-four hours she had come to 
 realize that, as Miss Price had said, she was making 
 a mistake, not indeed in the way that Miss Price 
 had intended the words to be understood, but a 
 mistake, nevertheless. It was no use trying to erect 
 futile barriers, and trying to ignore facts as they 
 existed. It was merely a position of moral cow- 
 ardice. Life had got to be lived, and faced, and 
 made the very best of, and it was time that she 
 shook herself free from the past, and set herself 
 bravely to pick up the pieces of her dream, lest they 
 cumber her feet, and start out again along the ap- 
 pointed road. If it was to be lonely, well, that could 
 not be helped. Repining was useless and unprofit- 
 able. And so she began to systematically review the 
 influences and changes which had led her to where 
 she now stood, and in the relief of at last letting her 
 thoughts have full and unfettered freedom she laid 
 her soul open to the calming influence of the moon- 
 light and the soothing power of the night. 
 
 She thought first of her brief courtship in far-off, 
 half forgotten days, of Hal's departure, of the busy, 
 monotonous life with her parents in her girlhood's 
 home, and so on, step by step, to Henry's return 
 from abroad. Ah ! it was then that she had made
 
 382 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 the first false step ! But even as she thought of it, 
 she knew that she did not regret it. She had mar- 
 ried without love she had wronged him, albeit un- 
 wittingly and in ignorance; but, suppose they had 
 parted she told herself she would never have known 
 the divine discontent of awakening love. No ! bet- 
 ter, far better, to have known its dawn, even if never 
 for her should its full splendour be revealed. 
 
 And then she thought of her friends. Of Con- 
 stance who had known, and paid the price of 
 knowledge. Of Roger Bolding, lying in a lonely 
 grave under the far-off African sun. Only yesterday 
 the post had brought her a letter from his servant, 
 enclosing an envelope addressed to her in the bold 
 handwriting with which she was familiar. The man 
 stated that his master had desired him to post it in 
 event of his death. It had been on him when he died, 
 shot through the heart while seeking shelter for him- 
 self and a wounded comrade whom he carried in his 
 arms. He had been buried where he fell. Inside 
 the envelope was the half sheet of paper on which 
 Eleanor had written the verse from Browning on that 
 evening months ago, when their friendship was just 
 beginning. That was all. No explanation, no com- 
 ment. A message of encouragement from the grave. 
 Eleanor had shed tears when first she saw it, but she 
 could not weep for him now. Truly he had been 
 one " who never turned his back, but marched breast
 
 AT LAST 383 
 
 forward " and he had given her his very best. As 
 he himself had said, " A man's honest love never hurt 
 a woman yet," and now he was gone gone where 
 sorrow and sighing shall be no more. She could not 
 grieve for him. 
 
 She thought of old Lavender of the lessons she 
 had taught her, Old Lavender, who, in spite of 
 poverty, and sorrow, and loss, was ever hopeful, ever 
 undaunted. She could almost hear the familiar voice 
 chanting the favourite verse : 
 
 " Count your blessings, count them one by one ; 
 Count your blessings, see what God hath done." 
 
 Old Lavender, with the grim spectres of old age and 
 want staring her in the face, shouldering the burden of 
 two tiny, helpless babes, little blossoms from her tree 
 of love; without a doubt, without a fear, trusting se- 
 renely in the Power which worketh all things together 
 for good, to those that love Him. 
 
 Of Minnie, gay, light-hearted Minnie, who had learned 
 her lesson, and was now secure and happy in her hus- 
 band's love and trust. 
 
 Of Captain Maitland, who had been such a tower 
 of strength to some of them in days of uncertainty 
 and darkness. 
 
 Of Mildred and Jim, safe in the haven of their mu- 
 tual affection; and of little Joan, the child to whom 
 she had beome so devotedly attached, who .was almost
 
 384 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 like her own, she drew her breath with a sob, 
 almost, not quite ! 
 
 And lastly, and chiefly, she thought of her husband, 
 and her Ijome, his unfailing courtesy, his undoubted 
 power of intellect, and his absorption in his work. 
 It was true, she reflected, that latterly he had spent 
 very little time in his library. Was it possible that 
 his books and his literary labours were losing their 
 interest for him ? Surely that could never be. No ; 
 no doubt, in his kindness, he had wished to join in 
 the general rejoicing, and assist in the preparations 
 which had preceded the wedding. Now, no doubt, 
 he was thoroughly enjoying a period of undisturbed 
 quiet to pursue his own occupations with renewed 
 vigour. 
 
 She pictured him seated at his table, in the light 
 of the shaded lamp. She had placed a vase of flowers 
 there only yesterday morning could it have been 
 only yesterday ? By to-morrow they would have 
 faded, and she would not be there to replace them ; and 
 although she had anticipated with pleasure spending 
 a few weeks here with Joan, she felt now that she 
 only wanted to get home again. After all, what had 
 she to complain of ? She had more far more than 
 most women : a beautiful home, no sordid cares such 
 as burden many lives, and a husband who treated 
 her with perfect if distant kindness. She had 
 said to Miss Price that there was nothing for her to
 
 AT LAST 385 
 
 do but to go on, and already she found herself looking 
 forward to ( going on ' in a very different spirit. She 
 had been unutterably foolish, she told herself, and in 
 striving for happiness beyond her reach had failed to 
 grasp the many joys which surrounded her on every 
 side. She would begin again, quite afresh and 
 spend no more time in crying for the moon. 
 
 But even as she thus bravely resolved, the thought 
 of the afternoon when they had driven together 
 through the tumult and the storm, of the evening 
 which had followed, of the emotions which she had 
 felt, overwhelmed her like a wave. Again she felt 
 the cutting force of the wind against her face, the 
 strength of the arm which had encircled her for one 
 brief, ecstatic moment, the word half uttered rang 
 again in her ears, and then the utter loneliness and 
 desolation of the hours which had followed. Of what 
 use was her newly found courage now ? Of what use 
 her newly formed resolutions ? They disappeared like 
 morning mist before the sun, at the mere recollection 
 of her longing and her desire. She sank back in her 
 seat, and, half crouching in the angle of the wall, 
 pressed her hands to her face to stay the tears which 
 rose to her eyes. 
 
 At this moment Monsieur Daudet, who had been 
 to all appearances wrapped in dreamless slumber, sat 
 up, and gave a shrill and joyful bark, and in another 
 moment he had flung himself like a wild and woolly 
 
 2c
 
 386 TKEVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 whirlwind upon a man who was advancing out of the 
 shadows. Eleanor raised herself, but before she had 
 time to collect her thoughts, and bring them back to 
 the present, a hand was laid on her shoulder, and a 
 f amiliar voice said, 
 
 "Eleanor!" 
 
 She passed her hand across her eyes as if to brush 
 away a dream. 
 
 " Henry ! " she said doubtfully. Then, coming to 
 full recollection of herself and her circumstances, 
 " Is anything the matter ? Are you ill ? " 
 
 Sir Henry sat down beside her. 
 
 " No, no," he said soothingly. " I am not ill. 
 Every one, so far as I know, is perfectly well. Do 
 not distress yourself. I came to see you." 
 
 " To see me ? " faltered Eleanor. 
 
 " Yes ! to see you, and to ask you of your kindness 
 to listen to something I have to tell you." 
 
 His voice was quiet, almost cold, with the feeling 
 he was sternly repressing, but Eleanor knew nothing 
 of this, and her heart sank at his tone. Had he come 
 to tell her he was going away ? 
 
 " You are not going away ? " she asked, with a gasp, 
 regretting the words as soon as they were spoken. 
 
 " No ! " he replied. " At least not unless you 
 send me ! Listen ! I have come to make a confes- 
 sion, and to ask for pardon. When we married, my 
 love for you was not dead, but " he hesitated
 
 AT LAST 387 
 
 for a choice of words, " but worthless although I 
 did not know it at the time. I was entirely taken 
 up with my own thoughts my own aspirations. I 
 allowed myself to drift on the stream of circum- 
 stances in crass and revolting selfishness. But now 
 
 I have come for pardon ! I have come to tell you 
 that I love you deeply, truly ; " he was holding both 
 her hands in his, and he leaned forward to see her face, 
 which was hidden from him. " Can you forgive me, 
 
 Eleanor ? I am yours ! yours utterly to do what 
 you will with. "Without you, life is nothing to me. 
 With you it might be Heaven ! Eleanor ! Shall 
 we start afresh, you and I? Speak to me, dearest. 
 Forgive me ! Tell me have you any love for me ? " 
 He dropped her hand, and flung his arm round her. 
 " I want you," he said, speaking in a low tone, vibrant 
 with feeling. " Shall I tell you ? When we married 
 
 in my stupidity and selfishness you know how 
 it was; then when I began to feel something of 
 what you might be to me when I began to love 
 you I would not take anything you could not give 
 me of your own free will. Then Oh ! Eleanor, 
 forgive me! I thought you cared for Bolding 
 and my newly found joy lay in ruins ! Now I think 
 I was wrong. Was I wrong, dear heart ? " 
 
 Eleanor nodded ; she could not speak ; and he con- 
 tinued : 
 
 " I should never have doubted you but who could
 
 388 TREVOR LORDSHIP 
 
 have blamed you if another had stolen the precious 
 thing I was too engrossed to value, then ? Now ! if 
 you can give me any love even a little, dearest! 
 you shall see how I will prize it ! " 
 
 " Oh, not a little ! " she said brokenly. " Not a 
 little, for all my heart is yours ! " 
 
 He drew her closer and closer to his embrace. 
 
 "Nell!" he murmured passionately. "My dear, 
 dear wife ! " 
 
 Eleanor raised her face to his and their lips met. 
 The moments passed unheeded. Who shall mark the 
 flight of Time, when two hearts reach that highest 
 point of ecstasy permitted to poor mortals here below 
 a point where surely earth and heaven touch for a 
 while, and radiance, wholly divine, encircles all. 
 
 At last Monsieur Daudet, having vainly tried to 
 attract their attention by fidgeting and yawning, 
 jumped up, to intimate that the cold asphalt was but 
 a poor substitute for a warm blanket, and he wanted 
 his comfortable basket. 
 
 " Come, sweetheart ! " said Sir Henry, raising 
 Eleanor as he spoke. " It is getting chilly for you. 
 Tell me ! " he cried suddenly, " will you come away 
 with me just you and I our honeymoon, Nell ?" 
 
 " But Joan ? " she queried, smiling. 
 
 " We will telegraph to Minnie. She and Hugh can 
 come down ; I am sure the sea air would do him 
 good. We will go to-morrow ! just you and I, dear
 
 AT LAST 389 
 
 wife ! Shall it be so ? Will you come ? " he asked 
 fondly. 
 
 Eleanor leaned against his supporting arm. 
 
 "To the ends of the earth," she whispered. " So 
 that we are together! " 
 
 " Always together ! God grant it ! Always to- 
 gether ! " he answered tenderly. " My dear, dear 
 love ! " 
 
 And so they passed home; for where two loving 
 hearts are united, there is home.
 
 ' I A HE following pages contain advertisements of 
 books on kindred subjefts.
 
 AMONG NEW MACMILLAN NOVELS 
 
 BY RICHARD WASHBURN CHILD 
 
 Jim Hands Decorated cloth, ismo, $1.20 net, by mail $ 1.32 
 
 BY S. R. CROCKETT 
 
 Author of " The Stickit Minister," etc. 
 
 Love's Young Dream Decorated cloth, izmo, $1.50 
 
 BY JOSEPHINE DASKAM BACON 
 
 While Caroline Was Growing 
 
 Decorated cloth, ismo, $ 1.50. (February, zgn) 
 
 BY CLARA LAUGHLIN 
 
 Just Folks Decorated cloth, i smo, $1.50 
 
 BY JACK LONDON 
 
 Author of " Martin Eden," " The Call of the Wild," etc. 
 
 Burning Daylight Illustrated. Decorated cloth, i2mo, $1.50 
 
 When God Laughs 
 
 Illustrated. Decorated cloth, ismo, $ 1.50. (February, 1911) 
 
 Adventure Illustrated. Decorated cloth, izmo, $ 1.50 
 
 BY E. V. LUCAS 
 
 Author of " Over Bemerton's " 
 
 Mr. Ingleside Decorated cloth, izmo, $ 1.35 net 
 
 BY STEPHEN REYNOLDS 
 
 Alongshore Where Man and the Sea meet Face to Face 
 With Eight Illustrations from Photographs by Melville Mackay 
 
 Decorated cloth, ismo, $ 1.50 
 
 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 
 Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York
 
 MR. WINSTON CHURCHILL'S NOVELS 
 
 Each, cloth, gilt tops and titles, $1.50 
 
 A Modern Chronicle Illustrated 
 
 This, Mr. Churchill's first great presentation of the Eternal Feminine, is 
 throughout a profound study of a fascinating young American woman. 
 It is frankly a modern love story. 
 
 a The most thorough and artistic work the author has yet turned out. A 
 very interesting story and a faithful picture of character ... one that 
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 Mr. Crewe's Career Illustrated 
 
 "It is an honest and fair story. ... It is very interesting; and the 
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 The Celebrity An Episode 
 
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 Richard Carvel Illustrated 
 
 " In breadth, massing of dramatic effect, depth of feeling, and rare whole- 
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 The Crossing Illustrated 
 
 "A thoroughly interesting book, packed with exciting adventure and 
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 The Crisis Illustrated 
 
 "A charming love story that never loses its interest. . . . The intense 
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 Coniston Illustrated 
 
 " A lighter, gayer spirit and a deeper, tenderer touch than Mr. Churchill 
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 Record'Herald. 
 
 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 
 Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York
 
 MR. ROBERT HERRICK'S NOVELS 
 
 Cloth, extra, gilt tops, each, $1.50 
 
 A Life for a Life 
 
 " It is fairly safe to prophesy that it will in time take its place among the 
 books that have influenced national thought and sentiment." Living Age. 
 
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 " An able book, remarkably so, and one which should find a place in the 
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 The Gospel of Freedom 
 
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 The Web of Life 
 
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 Jock o* Dreams; or, The Real World 
 
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 Chicago Tribune. 
 
 The Common Lot 
 
 " It grips the reader' tremendously. ... It is the drama of a human 
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 The Memoirs of an American Citizen 
 
 Illustrated, with about fifty drawings by F. B. Masters 
 
 " Intensely absorbing as a story, it is also a crisp, vigorous document of 
 startling significance. More than any other writer to-day he is giving us 
 the American novel." New York Globe. 
 
 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 
 Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York
 
 NOVELS, ETC., BY "BARBARA 
 
 (MABEL OSGOOD WRIGHT) 
 
 Each, in decorated cloth binding, $1.50 
 
 The Garden of a Commuter's Wife Illustrated 
 
 " Reading it is like having the entry into a home of the class that is the proud- 
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 People of the Whirlpool Illustrated 
 
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 The Woman Errant 
 
 " The book is worth reading. It will cause discussion. It is an interesting 
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 At the Sign of the Fox 
 
 " Her little pictures of country life are fragrant with a genuine love of nature, 
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 The Garden, You and I 
 
 "This volume is simply the best she has yet put forth, and quite too deliciously 
 torturing to the reviewer, whose only garden is in Spain. . . . The delightful 
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 The Open Window. Tales of the Months. 
 
 "A little vacation from the sophistication of the commonplace." Argonaut. 
 
 Poppea of the Post-Office 
 
 " A rainbow romance, . . . tender yet bracing, cheerily stimulating ... its 
 genial entirety refreshes like a cooling shower." Chicago Record-Herald. 
 
 Princess Flower Hat just Ready 
 
 A Comedy from the Perplexity Book of Barbara the Commuter's Wife. 
 
 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 
 Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York
 
 A 000127888