I5E&THA 
 CLi/ 
 
THE EAGLE SERIES 
 
 STREET & SMITH 
 
 PUBLISHERS ? RETAIL PRICE, 10 CENTS 
 
 THIS famous line was the original series of ten=cent books. Its success 
 * was instantaneous Millions of copies have been sold, and an increas= 
 ing demand for the entire series continues. The full line of titles is 
 in print, and can be supplied by all newsdealers. 
 
 -.176 Jack Gordon, Knight Errant. By William C. Hudson 
 
 (Barclay North) 
 
 . . 175 For Honor's Sake. By Laura C. Ford. 
 . . 174 -Wild Margaret. By Geraldine Fleming. 
 . .173 A. Bar Sinister. By the Author of Dr. Jack. 
 . .172 A King and a Coward. By Etfie Adelaide Rowlands. 
 . . ! 71 That Dakota Girl. By Stella Oilman. 
 . 170 A Little Radical. By Mrs. J. H. Walworth. 
 . .169 The Trials of an Actress. By Wenona Gil man: 
 .. 168 Thrice Lost, Thrice Won. By May Agnes Fleming. 
 . .167 The Manhattaners. By Edward: S. Van Zile. 
 . .166 The Masked Bridal. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon. 
 . . 165 The Road of the Rough. By Maurice M. Minton. 
 . .164 Couldn't Say No. By the author of Helen's Babies. 
 ..163 A Splendid Egotist ' By Mrs. J. H. Walworth 
 . .162 A Man of the Name of John. By Florence King. 
 . . 1 (I I Miss Fairfax of Virginia. By the author of Dr. "Jack. 
 ..160 His Way and Her 'Will Br Frances A> mar Mathews. 
 . .159 A Fa.r Maid of Marblehead. By Kate Tannatt Woods. 
 . .) 58 Stella, the Star. By Wenona Gilman. 
 . .157 'Who Wins ? By May Agnes Fleming 
 . .156 A. Soldier Lover. By Edward S. Brooks. 
 . .155 Nameless Doll By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon. 
 ..154 Husband and Foe. By Effie Adelaide Rowlands. 
 . .153 Her Son's Wife. By Hazel Wood. 
 . .152 A Mute Confessor. By Will N. Harben. 
 ..151 The Heiress of Glen Gower. By May Agnes Fleming. 
 ..150 Sunset Pass. By General Charles King. 
 . . 149 The Man She Loved. By Effie Adelaide Rowlands. 
 ..148 Will She Win. By Emma Garrison Jones. 
 . .147 Under Egyptian Skies. By the author of Dr. Jack. 
 . .140 Magdalen s Vow. By ^lay Agnes Fleming. 
 . .145 Country Lanes and City Pavements By. Maurice M, 
 
 Minton. 
 
 'orothy's Jewels. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon. 
 ii . 1 43 A Charity Girl. By Effie Adelaide Rowlands. 
 
. . 142 Her Rescue from the Turks. By the author of Dr. JacK. 
 
 . . 1 41 Lady Evelyn. By May Agnes Fleming. 
 
 . . 140 That Girl ol' Johnsons'. By Jean Kate Ludluin. 
 
 . .139 Little Lady Charles. By Eliie Adelaide Rowlands 
 
 . 138 A Fatal Wooing By Laura Jean Libbey. 
 . . 137 A Wedded Widow. By T. W Hanshew. 
 . . 136 The Unseen Bridegroom. By May Agnes Fleming. 
 . . 135 Cast Up by the Tide. By the author of Haifa Truth. 
 . .134 Squire John. By the author of Dr. Jack. 
 . .133 Max. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon. 
 . . 132 Whose Was the Crime ? By Gertrude Warden. 
 . .131 Nenne's Second Choice. By Adelaide Stirling. 
 . . 1 30 -A Bitter Bondage. By Bertha M. Clay. 
 . . 129 In Sight of St Paul's. By Button Vane. 
 . . 128 The Scent of the Roses By the author of Half a Truth. 
 . . 127 Nobod) 's Daughter. By Clara Augusta. 
 . .126 The Girl from Hong Kong. By the author of Dr. Jack. 
 . .125 -Devil's Island. By A. D. Hall. 
 . . ] 24 -Prettiest of All. By Julia Edwards. 
 . . 123 -Northern Lights. By A . D. Hall. 
 . . 122 Grazia's Mistake. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon. 
 . .121 Cecile's Marriage. By Lucy Randall Comfort. 
 . .120 The White Squadron. By T. C. Harbaugh. 
 . . 119 An Ideal Love. By Bertha M. Clay. 
 . . 118 Saved From the Sea. By Richard Duffy. 
 . . 117 She Loved Him. By Charles Garvice. 
 . .116 The Daughter of the Regiment. By Mary A. Denison, 
 . 1 15 A Fair Revolutionist. By the author of Dr. Jack. 
 . . 114 Half a Truth. By a popular author. 
 . .113 A Crushed Liiy. By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller. 
 ..112 The Cattle King By A. D. Hall. 
 
 .111 Faithful Shirley. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon. 
 . . 110 Whose Wife Is She ? By Annie Lisle. 
 . .109 A Heart's Bitterness By Bertha M. Clay. 
 . . 108 A Son of Mars. By the author of Dr. Jack. 
 . . 107 Citrla; or, Married at Sight. By Effie Adelaide Rowlands. 
 . .106 Lilian, My Lilian. By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller 
 . . 105 When London Sleeps. By Chas. Darrell. 
 . .104 A Proud Dishonor. By Genie Holzmeyer. 
 . . 103 The Span of Life. By Sutton Vane. 
 . .102 Fair But Faithless. By Bertha M. Clay. 
 
. . 101 A Goddess of Africa. By the author of Dr. JacR. 
 
 . . 100 Alice Blake. By Francis S. Smith. 
 
 ; .99 Audrey's Recompense. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon. 
 
 . . .98 Claire. By Charles Garvice. 
 
 . . .97 The War Reporter. By Warren Edwards. 
 
 . . .96 The Little Minister. By J. M. Barrie. 
 
 . . .95 Twixt Love and Hate. By Bertha M. Clay. 
 
 . . .94 Darkest Russia By H Grattan Donnelly. 
 
 . . .93 A Queen of Treachery. By T. W. Hanshew. 
 
 . . . 92 Humanity. By Sutton Vane. 
 
 , . .91 Sweet Violet By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller. 
 
 . . .90 For Fair Virginia. By Russ Whytal. 
 
 . . .9 A Gentleman From Gascony. By Bicknell Dudley. 
 
 . . .gg Virgie's Inheritance. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon. 
 
 . . .87 Shenandoah. By J. Perkins Tracy. 
 
 . . .86 A Widowed Bride. By Lucy Randall Comfort. 
 
 . . .s5 Lorrie; or Hollow Gold. By Charles Garvice. 
 
 . .84 -Between Two Hearts. By Bertha M. Clay. 
 . . .83 The Locksmith of Lyons. By Prof Wm. Penry Peck. 
 . . .62 Captain Impudence. By Edwin Milton Royle. 
 . .8i 'Wedded For aii Hour. By Emma Garrison Jones. 
 . . .80 The Fair Maid of Fez. By the author of Dr. Jack. 
 . . .79 Marjorie Deane. By Bt rtlia M. Clay. 
 
 .78 -The' Yankee Champion. By Sylvanus Cobb, Jr. 
 . . .77 Tina. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon. 
 . . .76 Mavourneen. From the celebrated play. 
 . . .75 Under Fire. By T. P. .James. 
 .. .74 The Cotton kii:g By Sutton Vane. 
 . . .73 Tne Marquis. By Charles Garvice. 
 . . .72 Wilful Winnie. By Harriet Sherburne. 
 . . .71 The Spider's Web.' By the author of Dr. Jack. 
 . . 70 In Love's Crucible. By Bertha M. Clay. 
 ... 69 Mis Perfect Trust. By a popular author. 
 . . .68 -The Little Cuban Rebel. By Edna Win field. 
 . . .67 Gismonda, By Victorien Sardou. 
 . ..66 Witch Hazel. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon. 
 . . .65 Won By the Sword. By J. Perkins Tracy. 
 . . .61 Dora Tenney. By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller. 
 . . .63 Lawyer Bell from Boston. By Robert Loe Tyler. 
 . . .62 Stella Sterling. By Julia Edwards 
 . . .61 La Tosea. Ly Victorien Sardou. 
 . . .60 The County Fair. By Neil Burgess. 
 . . .59 Gladys Greye. By Bertha M. Clay. 
 . . . 58 Major Matterson of Kentucky. By the author of Dr. Jack. 
 
 . .57 Rosamond. By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller. 
 . . .56 The Dispatch Bearer. By Warren Edwards. 
 . . .55 Thrice Wedded. By Mrs' Georgie Sheldon. 
 . . .54 Cleopatra. By Tictorien Sardou. 
 . . .53 The Old Homestead. By Denman Thompson. 
 . . .52 Woman Against Woman.' By Effie Adelaide Rowlands. 
 
 . . 5J The Price He Paid By E. Werner. 
 
. . .50 Her Ransom. By Charles Garvice. 
 
 . . .49 None But the Brave. By Robert Lee Tyler. 
 
 ' iiother .Man's \\ <H\ By Bertha M. Clay. 
 . . .47 The Colonel By Brevet. By the author of Dr. Jack. 
 . .46 -Off With the Old Love. By Mrs. M. V. Victor. 
 . . .45 A Yale Man. By Robert Lee Tyler. 
 . . .44 That Dowdy. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon. 
 . . .43 Little Coquette Bonnie. By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller. 
 . . .42 Another Woman's Husband. By Bertha M. Clay. 
 . . .41 Her Heart's Desire. By Charles Garvice. 
 . . .40 Monsieur Bob. By the author of Dr. Jack. 
 . . .39 The Colonel's Wife. By Warren Edwards. 
 . . .38 The Nabob of Singapore. By the author of Dr. Jack. 
 . . .37 The Heart of Virginia. By J. Perkins Tracy. 
 . . .36 Fedora. By Victorien Sardou. 
 . . .35 The Great Mogul. By the author of Dr. Jack. 
 . . .34 Pretty Geraldine. By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller. 
 . . .33 Mrs. Bob. By the author of Dr. Jack. 
 . . .32 The Blockade Runner. By J. Perkins Tracy. 
 . . .31- A Siren's Love. By Robert Lee Tyler. 
 . . .30 Baron Sain. By the author of Dr. Jack. 
 . . .29 Theodora, By Victorien Sardou. 
 . . .28 Miss Caprice. By the author of Dr. Jack. 
 ...27 Estelle ? s Millionaire Lover. By Julia Edwards. 
 . . .26 Capttiin Tom. By the author of Dr. Jack. 
 . . .25 Little Southern Beauty. By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller 
 . . .24 A Wasted Love. By diaries Garvice. 
 . . .23 Miss Pauline of New York. By the author of Dr. Jaok. 
 . . .22 Elaine. By Charles Garvice. 
 . . .21 A Heart's Idol. By Bertha M. Clay. 
 . . .20 The Senator's Bride. By Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller. 
 . . . 11) Mr. Lake of Chicago. By Harry DuBois Milman. 
 . . . J8 Dr. Jack's AVife. By the* author of Dr. Jack. 
 . . .17 Leslie's Loyalty. By Charles Garvice. 
 ...16 The Fatal' Card. By I! addon Chambers and B. C. 
 
 Stephenson. 
 
 ...15 Dr. Jack. By St. George Rathborne. 
 . . . 14 Violet Lisle. By Bertha M. Clay. 
 . . . 13 The Little Widow. By Julia Edwards. 
 . . .12 Edrie's Legacy. By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon. 
 . . . 11 The Gypsy's Daughter. By Bertha M. Clay. 
 . . .10 Little Sunshine. By Francis S. Smith. 
 
 9 The Virginia Heiress. By May .Agnes Fleming. 
 
 8 Beautiful but Poor. By Julia Edwards. 
 
 . . . .7 Two Keys. I'y Mrs. Georgie Sheldon. 
 
 ' 6 The Midnight Marriage. By A. M. Douglas. 
 
 5 The Senator's Favorite. Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller. 
 
 ! - i'or a Woman's Honor. By Bertha M. Clay! 
 
VIOLET LISLE. 
 
 BY 
 
 BERTHA M. CLAY, 
 
 AUTHOR OP 
 
 'ANOTHER WOMAN'S HUSBAND," < 'ANOTHER MAN'S WIFE," 
 
 "A HEART'S IDOL," "IN LOVE'S CRUCIBLE," "FOR 
 
 ANOTHER'S SIN," "A HEART'S BITTERNESS," 
 
 "MARJORIE DEANE," "GLADYS GREYJL" 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 STREET & SMITH, Publishers, 
 
 31 Rose Street. 
 
.Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1892, 
 
 Bv STRKKT <fe SMITH, 
 ID the Office of the Librarian of CQUgresa.UitJWashiugton, D. <X 
 
VIOLET LISLE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A VILLAGE LOVE. 
 
 " Will you forgive my presumption, Miss Violet ?" 
 
 *' I have nothing to forgive, Mr. Jenkins ; the love of so 
 good and true a man as you must be an honor to any girl." 
 
 The two speakers stood under the spreading branches of 
 a great oak. Near by stood the ruins of Penarth Abbey, 
 its ivy mantled walls gilded by the glowing rays of a 
 warm autumn sun, and the long shadows cast by the 
 famous Penarth oaks falling in fantastic shapes over its 
 uneven contours. It was plain from the sketch-book in 
 the girl's hand that she had been there with an artist's 
 purpose. A glance at the man told that he was a curate 
 a fact betrayed no less by his air than by his garb. 
 
 There was deep distress on her sweet, fair young face, 
 and bravely subdued agony on his. It was more than 
 man could bear to lose all hope of ever winning the pre- 
 cious prize of her love, even though he had battled man- 
 fully against giving hope a foothold in his breast. 
 
 "And it could never be?" he asked, after a painful 
 pause. 
 
 " No, for I do not love you. I respect you, like you 
 very, very much, would wish you for a friend always. I 
 am so sorry, Mr. Jenkins,' 1 and the ready tears of sympa- 
 thy fille^ her de, p blue eyes. 
 
 " Oh, < ' n t, please don't !" he cried. " I ought never to 
 
 M65756 
 
6 A VILLAGE LOVE. 
 
 have spoken to you. I knew very well that you could 
 never be for me ; but I loved you and and please don't 
 cry for me, Miss Violet. I am not worthy of you I knew 
 that. Please don't think I ever fancied that I was worthy 
 of you. " 
 
 " You are worthy of any woman," she said, earnestly. 
 
 It is like you to say so, but 1 know all the distance be- 
 tween us. We are not of the same social caste. I am 
 the son of a tradesman ; you are in the line of dukes and 
 earls." 
 
 wouyiever havered rto/speak to you, but I thought- 
 no, I/did ftofc -tflink. : I iaSe'd-to think that perhaps if I had 
 some wealth to offer your father he might forgive my 
 birth if you could find it possible to love me. But I knew 
 (town m my heart, that you could not love me No we 
 should never have fitted our lives. You are destined for 
 
 something great, and I for " 
 
 fie turned away and suppressed a sob as he thought of 
 tne life with her that could never be anything but a 
 rudely disturbed dream. 
 
 She laid her hand gently on his arm. The touch was so 
 pitiful that he turned and tried to laugh. 
 
 'Don't think I have gone mad, Miss Violet," he said 
 *i7r r n j alk of wealth ; bu <> I would like you to know 
 hat I have not been so daring as to let my heart tell its 
 secret without some justification. I was not going to ask 
 you to share the poverty of my curacy. Not that I be 
 leved it would make any difference with you, for I am 
 sure that if you loved me you Would have me in my pov- 
 erty as readily as in my wealth ; but your father is a, 
 ud man, as he has a right to be, and he might have 
 considered me even in my low origin if he had known 
 I was not poor. The death of a distant relative has 
 ?ft me with twenty-five thousand pounds." 
 
 Oh, Martin Jenkins !" cried Violet, -joyfully "Is it 
 really true ?" 
 "Quite true." 
 " And you can get away from here, where Mr Svlvestre 
 
 can no longer treat you like a-like a 
 
 curate '" he fill PP Ji ^ for her, laughing 
 
 Mr. Sylvestre was the rector. 
 
 " Yes, " she assented. " And you really are a rich man ! 
 
ilLLAtitiLU* 7 
 
 glad ! You will go away from here, won't 
 you ?" 
 
 "Are you so anxious to be rid of me, then?" he asked, 
 sadly enough, for he ^knew that wh'ile she was thinking 
 only of his happiness it was the most perfect proof that 
 si 10 did not and would not care for him in the way he 
 asked. 
 
 "Oh, no," she answered, quickly; "but I have been so 
 indignant at the way Mr. Sylvestre treats you." 
 
 " He won't treat me so now. I think I will stay. I 
 may be of use to you some day who can tell ? You will 
 let me be your friend, will you not?" 
 
 She gave him her hand frankly. 
 
 "I could not ask a better. I am glad to have you for a 
 friend." 
 
 "Then let us be friends, pud I will never trouble you 
 with my love again. But if you should need a friend at 
 any time will you call upon me ?" 
 
 "Gladly." 
 
 "Then good-by. And don't feel badly for me. I am 
 happier for having loved you, and I shall never regret it." 
 
 He held her hand for a moment, and was gone. 
 
 " How good and true he is I 1 ' she murmured to herself ; 
 "but I could not love him, and I should have made him 
 unhappy. I am so glad he is rich. To think of Martin 
 Jenkins being rich !" and with half a sigh and half a smile 
 she turned in the direction opposite to that which he had 
 gone, and sauntered leisurely through the great oaks of 
 Penarth toward home. 
 
 No one could look at Violet Lisle and wonder that Mar- 
 tin Jenkins, the poor curate, or any other man, should 
 love her. She had hardly passed into womanhood yet, 
 and the free, careless grace and simpliicty of her child- 
 hood were still visible in her every movement ; but withal 
 she was endowed with suc'h a charm of beauty as seldom 
 falls to the lot of mortal. 
 
 It was a beauty that bewildered by its frankness. One 
 looked at her and wondered if she would not presently 
 vanish as a dream creature, so impossible did it seem 
 that such fairy-like beauty could be real. But there was 
 nothing unsubstantial in her charms, for the slender, yet 
 rounded form was the embodiment of that lissome grace 
 which belongs to perfect health ; and the milk and roses 
 of her complexion were rendered more delightfully at- 
 tractive by the cherry lips and violet-blue eyes, so clear 
 and sparkling 
 
6 A VILLAGE LOV& 
 
 Her merely physical beauty must have been a joy, 
 though it had been soulless ; but when to it was added a 
 nature so pure that it sweetened all the life about her, and 
 so full of hidden depths that one forgot the outer in the 
 inner woman, there resulted a, creature so wondrous that 
 she became known only to be worshiped. 
 
 Even her father, so poor in his rich descent, so proud in 
 his poverty, so cold and haughty in his self-isolated life, 
 worshiped while he ruled her. As he said himself some- 
 times in his bitterness his income was not enough to de- 
 cently starve on, but he had always sedulously taken care 
 that she should never see the grinding side of his pov- 
 erty. It was as if he would have her life as care-free as 
 if she had belonged to that richer branch of the Lisles 
 who wrote earl and countess with their names, and who 
 had lived as if Melville Lisle had no existence. 
 
 He would have isolated his peerless daughter from the 
 common herd had he -been able, but there was such a joy 
 in her very living that seemed to draw life to her, and 
 from her childhood she had mixed with the village folk 
 as freely as any low-born maiden among them, and yet 
 there had always been a distance between them only 
 partly of the father's making. It had been in the very 
 nature of things. 
 
 She could not have been one of them, for with all her 
 frankness and simplicity and gentle humility of soul, 
 there was always that in her which gave to her manner 
 the graciousness of a queen rather than the equality of a 
 comrade. But no one resented it, and everybody loved 
 her. 
 
 Martin Jenkins, urged on to an avowal of his feelings 
 by the overmastering, devouring love that gave him no 
 peace, would himself have been shocked had he been told 
 by her that she would marry him. He would as soon 
 have thought of being linked to an angel, and yet he could 
 not but ask, as yeoman and squire had tremblingly asked 
 before him. 
 
 She had never told her father of these offers of mar- 
 riage, for she knew he would look upon them as so many 
 insults to his cherished name and proud blood, and would 
 have fallen into a passion of impotent anger over them. 
 Only Goody White, .once her nurse and now the maid-of- 
 all-work, was her confidante, and that dear old soul, even 
 while she had the disdain of the father for all low-born 
 suitors, was nevertheless delighted with each new offer- 
 ing laid at the shrine of her darling. 
 
GUY DARLINGTON. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 GUY DARLINGTON. 
 
 It was a charming afternoon, and the poor gentleman's 
 beautiful daughter enjoyed it with all the zest of perfect 
 health. After the first sorrow for Martin Jenkins had 
 passed away on the crisp autumn air she tripped along 
 more rapidly, now warbling the snatch of some old ballad, 
 now stooping to pick a delicate shrub, or reaching up to 
 pluck a leaf of richer coloring than she had seen. 
 
 She passed out of the oaks into the open sunshine of the 
 road, and that delighted her as much as the flickering 
 shadows of the woods had done. Everything was a 
 source of pleasure to Violet. She looked up laughingly 
 at a squirrel that sat watching her from his lofty perch ; 
 she called a merry u good by" to a rabbit that dashed in a 
 panic across the road into the shelter of the woods. 
 
 At the little bridge over the brook she stopped and 
 leaned on the rail, searching the dancing waters for a 
 darting trout that had its lair under a rock there, but the 
 trout would not come forth, and she started on again. 
 
 Then she noticed a plank in the bridge loose and likely 
 to be misplaced dangerously by the next crossing horse. 
 It ought to be put in place. She looked around for some 
 man, but there was no man in sight, and she looked in- 
 quiringly at her gloved hands, and from them at the 
 heavy plank. 
 
 Then she smiled rather gleefully, as if it were a very 
 pleasant thing to have the opportunity to do a thing 
 which no man in Penarth would let her do if he had 
 known it. She pulled off her gloves from her dainty 
 white hands, with their tapering fingers and pink nails, 
 and began studying the plank. 
 
 k ' I suppose," she said to herself, "that a man would just 
 take hold of it and put it in its place. Now, I 
 
 She turned her head to listen, for it seemed to her that 
 she heard the gallop of a horse. Yes, it was quite certain 
 that she did. Should she try to put the plank in place, or 
 should she merely warn the horseman of his danger? 
 Woll, it was very likely that the horseman would be some 
 acquaintance, and it would be a pleasure to ha^e accom- 
 plished it without hia help. 
 
 She immediately stooped and did as she supposed a man 
 
10 OUT DA RLING TON, 
 
 would do, "just took hold of it," but the plank was heavy, 
 and it was caught in some way, and well, the horseman 
 was coining around the turn while she was still striving 
 to do something with the refractory plank. 
 
 She ceased her efforts then, and stood up, a flush on her 
 round cheek, and a smile on her lips. She stood in the 
 center of the bridge and raised her hand to stop the rider ; 
 then she realized that he was a stranger to her, and the 
 flush of exertion deepened into one of confusion. 
 
 The new-comer was a stalwart, handsome young man, 
 who sat his horse like a centaur, and brought him to his 
 haunches by the suddenness with which he checked him 
 at Violet's gesture. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, 1 ' said Violet, "but the bridge is 
 dangerous. A plank is loose, and I was trying to replace 
 it." 
 
 For a moment the young man stared at her out of a pair 
 of handsome dark eyes, with an eager, incredulous sort of 
 admiration. Then he recollected himself, and lifted his 
 hat, saying, confusedly : 
 
 "You are very kind." 
 
 She dropped her eyes before his ardent but in no wise 
 bold gaze, and said : 
 
 "If you will wait a moment I will have it in place," 
 and she stooped again. 
 
 But he, with a low cry of dismay, sprang from his 
 horse and cried out : 
 
 "Oh, I beg of you, do not think of it. Don't touch it 
 with those little hands. Let me. Wait until I have tied 
 Dick. Please, please, do not." 
 
 He was so earnest, there was so much beseeching in hi 
 mellow x r oice, that ghe desisted and watched him as li/ 
 tied his horse to a sapling. 
 
 "This is it," she said as he came forward, and again sir 
 found her eyes drooping before his. 
 
 He bent, and she admired* the easy strength with which 
 he tossed the plank out to disengage it, and then tossed it 
 into its place again. 
 
 "It must be pleasant to have such strength," she said, 
 with a frank admiration that made him flush with pleas- 
 ure. 
 
 "To be told so by you is the pleasure," he said, quickly. 
 
 She blushed more at his ardor than at his words, and 
 turned tr. 
 
 for helph 
 
-V<7TOA T . 11 
 
 <ion't go I mean don't go with your hand 
 ng you," he stammered. 
 
 laughed with the frankness of a child. 
 " My hand doesn't hurt me," she said. "Why should 
 
 Then he smiled with a frankness equal to her own, and 
 noticed involuntarily that his face was handsomer 
 i ban ever when he smiled. 
 
 " I was afraid a splinter might have run into it. No ?" 
 -he shook her head, still smiling. " Well, it might, 
 know. Don't think I'm rude ; hut do you live here?" 
 u Yes, in the village." 
 
 "hesitated, looked embarrassed, then said, boldly : 
 
 rhaps you saved my life " 
 
 fthe laughed merrily. 
 
 h, no." 
 
 ' But," he persisted, with a twinkle in his eye, in spite 
 u effort to seem very serious, "my horse might have 
 his foot into the crack, I might have been thrown, and 
 never can tell what the consequences of a fall may be. 
 i sure I owe you my life. I am very grateful" there 
 !d be no doubt of that "and I would like to to call 
 upon you if I may. Now you are going to say no. I can. 
 see it in your face. I know it is awfully bold of me ; but 
 really we should become acquainted in time anyhow, for 
 I have come here to live." 
 She looked her surprise and interest. 
 "Yes," he said, in answer to her expression, "I am Guy 
 Darlington." 
 
 " Lord Darlington !" and she shrank back a little. 
 "Yes," he answered, noting her slight action with won- 
 der ; " and won't you tell me now who you are ? I thought 
 at first that you were a nymph of the woods, but you are 
 mortal, are you not ?" 
 
 She laughed again, and then, with an air of reserve and 
 dignity that sat well upon her said, quietly : 
 
 "I am the daughter of Melville Lisle, a poor gentleman 
 of the village." 
 
 The "poor" he ignored, and demanded, eagerly : 
 "Of the Lisles of G-ranthorpe ?" 
 "Cousins, I think." 
 
 "Then we ought to be friends, for we have two lawsuits 
 with the Lisles of Granthorpe." 
 Violet laughed. 
 
 " Is that a good ground for friendship ?" 
 "The very best. Mother and I may call, may we not?" 
 
12 GUY DARLINGTON. 
 
 Violet would have given anything to have answered the 
 promptings of her heart, and said yes to his question, but 
 she stifled the desire, and looked at handsome, winning 
 Guy Darlington bravely and earnestly. 
 
 "It is better to be honest with you, Lord Darlington," 
 she said. "My father is a poor man. Of as good blood 
 as your own, he would tell you ; but so poor that he has 
 hidden himself in this little village, to be away from his 
 kind. He would not welcome your coming, and he would 
 be made unhappy by it. I am sorry, for I would have 
 been glad.' 1 
 
 In all his life among the beauties of England and of the 
 gay centers of Europe, Guy Darlington had seen nothing 
 like the wondrous beauty and charm of this pure and 
 noble young creature who said to him so frankly and in- 
 nocently that she would have liked to know him if it had 
 been possible. He could not have told why he revolted 
 against the fate that would prevent his ever seeing her 
 again ; but he knew that he could not let it be so. 
 
 "But that is cruel," he exclaimed, "and I will not sub- 
 mit to it." 
 
 She looked at him wonderingly, and a little thrill of 
 happiness, which she did not comprehend, stole over her. 
 
 "Why," he went on, vehemently, "should you and I not 
 know each other ? It may be very little to you, but to 
 me " 
 
 He suddenly stopped, aware that he was saying strange 
 things, considering the brief time of their acquaintance. 
 She was too unconventional, too unconscious of the nature 
 of her own heart-throbs to realize all that his vehement 
 words meant, and she answered his broken sentence with 
 a sweet gravity : 
 
 "It is not very little to me, Lord Darlington. I" would 
 like so much to know you ; but don't you see that it can- 
 not be ? My ancestry is as good as yours, the name is un- 
 stained ; but we are of the branch that has nothing but the 
 name and the blood, and we can never mingle with you, 
 because we are poor. To try to bring it about would be to 
 cause misery to my father." 
 
 "I do not wish that," said Guy, with an unmistakable 
 earnestness. "Then I am not to call? It shall be as you 
 say ; but at least you do not regret saving my life ?" 
 
 Violet smiled, but she was thinking of the strangeness 
 of the fate that had put a sordid barrier of money be- 
 tween the acquaintance of two persons, who themselves 
 
Q UY DARL1SG TON. 13 
 
 scorned it. She was frankly sorry that she was to see no 
 more of the gay and handsome Guy Darlington. 
 
 " I do not regret telling you of the loose plank." 
 
 " And you do not regret the time you have wasted talk- 
 ing with me ?" 
 
 u No, I am glad to have met you. You are the first 
 gentleman besides my father I have ever talked with, and 
 it has been very pleasant." 
 
 How innocent and pure she was ! 
 
 "Will you tell me your name?" he asked, in a low 
 voice. 
 
 "Violet," she answered, and looking up their eyes met. 
 
 "Violet," he repeated, softly, "and my name is Guy." 
 
 "Guy," she repeated under her breath, and his heart 
 gave a great leap. 
 
 He wondered ever after why it was that he did not then 
 cry out the words that crowded to his lips "Violet, I 
 love you !" 
 
 As it was he was dumb, and wondered at himself for it. 
 It seemed a long time that neither of them spoke, for she, 
 too, was as if under a spell, though the words had not 
 come to her as to him, and she was in a sort of maze at 
 her own tumultuous feelings. 
 
 "Good-by, then," she said at last, and slowly as if she 
 did not like to go. 
 
 Then he sought about for some excuse to detain her 
 longer, and his eye fell on the sketch-book, and he said : 
 
 "Have you been sketching?" 
 
 "I have begun a sketch of the old abbey," she answered. 
 
 "May I look at it?" he asked, and she frankly handed 
 the book to him. 
 
 He turned the leaves slowly, looking at each sketch 
 and seeing none of them, for his mind was full of her. 
 When he came to the last page and saw only a broken out- 
 line a light of joy jumped into his eye, and he said : 
 
 "You will have to go again." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I shall go every afternoon until it is finished. 
 I did not accomplish much this afternoon ; I was inter- 
 rupted," and she blushed when she thought of what the 
 interruption had been. 
 
 The thought of Martin's offer of his hand had not made 
 her blush before, and she found herself wondering 
 vaguely why it should do so now. But Guy thought 
 nothing of the blush. He gave her back her book, and 
 took her hand, and said good-by with such a look of hope 
 in his eves that she wondered at it. 
 
H A SUDDEN WOOING. 
 
 Then he leaped on his horse, and was gone, and she 
 walked home with a feeling of sadness in her heart, for it 
 seemed to her that he had gone off with less care to meet 
 again than she had, though how a meeting qpuld have 
 come about she did not know. 
 
 She said nothing to Goody White of this meeting, for 
 what would be the use? And she said nothing of it to her 
 father, for again what would be the use ? 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A SUDDEN WOOING. 
 
 The next afternoon Violet did not go singing and trip- 
 ping the way to the abbey. She was strangely quiet, yet 
 not unhappy. She went as she had returned on the day 
 before, and she found herself lingering on the bridge and 
 thinking of the very words that had been spoken there. 
 
 And when she had seated herself and begun her sketch- 
 ing her pencil did not mote very swiftly, and it came into 
 her mind that the ruins before her belonged to Guy, Lord 
 Darlington. That was a sort of pleasure to her, and she 
 wondered why. Strange, too, how she would think of 
 him as Guy, instead of the more formal Lord Darlington. 
 
 Then there came a crushing of the leaves from a dis- 
 tance behind her, and she knew some one was coming. 
 Some one from the village, she said to herself, but her 
 color was coming and going, and her heart was beating, 
 and she would not look around. Then, whoever it wt*s 
 stood over her and looked down, and she felt the blood 
 forsaking her face ; but she looked up only slowly. 
 
 It was Guy Darlington, and it had been in his mind to 
 seek her there and say something to show that he was sur 
 prised ; but when she looked up at him, and he saw into 
 her eyes, that little deceit of pretending he had not ex- 
 pected to see her, passed out of his mind, and his face was 
 as white as hers, as he said, softly : 
 
 "I hoped to find you here, Violet." 
 
 tl I did not hope, 1 ' she said, "but I am glad." 
 
 He made no answer to that, but sat down not far away, 
 and looked at her, she trying to use her pencil as if he had 
 not been there, and at last putting it down and folding her 
 hands in her lap. Then she turned and looked into lii.s 
 face, and saw what she had known without seeing, that 
 he was looking at her. She looked a while, and 
 dropped her eyes, 
 
A SUDDEN WOOING. 15 
 
 u Violet," he said, and there was a faint sound as if it 
 were difficult for him to speak. She looked up at him 
 in, and saw on his face an expression of pain and 
 almost of fear. 
 
 " What is it?" she asked. 
 
 " I find I must say something to you, and I would like 
 you to hear me through. Will you?" 
 
 Something of the fear that was on his face rose up to 
 hers, but she answered that she would. 
 
 wi When I left you yesterday I intended to come here to 
 lind you. I told myself that I would come here to-day 
 and every day until perhaps, if it was to be, I could make 
 you love me as I love you. Please don't look frightened, 
 dear. I will not say a word that I ought not to say ; 1 
 will stop when you tell me to stop ; I will go when you 
 say to go. I knew that it was riot usual to love in a mo- 
 ment, and I could not expect you to feel as I felt you 
 might never feel so. I had no right to hope it no reason 
 to hope it. I would have liked to go to your home and 
 have the sanction of your father to our acquaintance ; but 
 you explained that to me, and I knew you were right, and 
 that it would be the death of my hopes to try to woo you 
 in that way. I had it in mind to come here until you 
 could love me, if it w r as to be ; but when I come near to 
 you, and feel your purity and innocence, I feel that I can- 
 not deceive you even that much, and so I say to you now 
 that I love you, and ask you to be my wife. Don't answer 
 too quickly. Don't say no to me. Think it over, and try 
 to find some hope for me in the future. I know it is sud- 
 den and unusual, but I will wait until you can learn to 
 think more calmly of it. I will leave you now, and I will 
 come to-morrow." 
 
 He rose to go, and her eyes followed his face, and when 
 he looked down into them he saw a strange beseeching in 
 them. 
 
 "What is it, Violet?" he asked. 
 
 "Don't go, Guy." 
 
 The next instant he was by her side, and was holding 
 one of her little hands in his. They sat for many minutes 
 in silence, and he was not yet sure of what she was going 
 to say to him, only she did not take her hand from him. 
 Presently she spoke. 
 
 u It is all very strange, but I think I love you, Guy. " 
 
 He had not the boldness to do more than kiss the little 
 hand he held. There was a long and happy silence, and 
 then Guy spoke. 
 
16 AT FBNARTH CASTLE. 
 
 " What shall I do, dear ? Shall I go with you to your 
 father and tell him what we have done ?" 
 
 " If that will be the best way, yes." 
 
 " Perhaps, since he is proud and sensitive, he would like 
 it better if my mother and I were to call on him and re- 
 quest the honor of your hand," and Guy smiled proudly 
 on the wonderful face upturned to him. 
 
 " It shall be as you say, Guy. I have only one fear." 
 
 "And what is that?" 
 
 " Could anybody understand how we could know each 
 other for the first time yesterday afternoon and v 
 
 " Love each other like madness to-day ? No. But do 
 you, Violet, now that you have had time to think of it, do 
 you love me so that to lose me would be to lose the dear- 
 est thing in this world ?" 
 
 ''Yes," she answered, gazing up into his eyes, "if I had 
 not loved you so I could never have bidden you stay." 
 
 "I think that is so," he said, and bent over her and 
 touched his lips to hers, and let them rest there in a long 
 contact of ecstasy arid bliss. 
 
 "What will be best co do?" she asked him, after a long 
 silence. 
 
 "I ttish to do what is wisest," he answered, "and I do 
 not know what that is. Let us think it over. Meet me 
 here again to-morrow, and we will say what we have 
 thought. Let us think of ourselves now." 
 
 That at least was the easiest, if not the wisest, thing to 
 do, and the afternoon slipped away in the blissful talk of 
 newly found lovers. There was so much to say. They 
 knew so little of each other. And each revelation was a 
 delight. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 AT PENARTH CASTLE. 
 
 The Countess Darlington was such a woman as one 
 would have expected the mother of Guy Darlington to 
 be stately and beautiful. Dignified to the verge of 
 haughtiness with others, with Guy she had always been 
 the tenderest and most indulgent of mothers. 
 
 She had watched his growth from boyhood into his 
 perfect manhood with a pride that knew no bounds. He 
 had been a little wild, but never vicious ; had made her 
 his confidante and companion as much as a young man 
 very well could ; but in the abounding health of both his 
 
AT PENARTH CAUTLE. 17 
 
 mind and body there had never been any confidences wor- 
 thy of the name to make. 
 
 She had told him to go see the world, and he had gone 
 as a young prince might have gone, scattering his gold 
 right and left, meeting everywhere with a welcome that 
 was most royal a welcome that was accorded partly to 
 his wealth, partly to his title, and very much to his joy- 
 ous, manly nature and his extremely good looks. 
 
 Perhaps he had unintentionally broken some hearts 
 his own had never been seriously touched, though he had 
 been the object of many a well-calculated attack from the 
 combined forces of designing mamma and guileless 
 maiden. All such assaults Lady Darlington had either 
 ignored or smiled at in her own lofty fashion. In her in- 
 fatuation she believed the chief reason of Guy's insensi- 
 bility to ba the failure on her part to urge him to the 
 selection of his life's partner. An infatuation uncon- 
 sciously fostered by him, who knowing nothing of love 
 but as he had read, talked so rationally of it with his 
 mother that she could not help but think with him that 
 he would marry as a matter of course when the time 
 came. 
 
 It was the coming of that time that was the cause of all 
 the trouble. The time had already come when both 
 mother and son were ready. He had met Violet Lisle ; 
 the countess had chosen a mate for him from among his 
 peers. It was to bring the lady of her choice and her son 
 together that she had urged the visit to Penarth Castle, 
 where they so seldom went, and where, under the pretext 
 of a little shooting, Guy could be free to meet her with a 
 very few select friends. 
 
 Lady Sibyl Coldenham had every attribute which the 
 daughter-in-law of the Countess of Darlington should 
 have. She was beautiful, accomplished, gentle, of irre- 
 proachable lineage, rich, and willing. At least her father, 
 the Marquis of Coldenham, said she was willing, and the 
 patrician mother of Guy looked no further. She had 
 married as her parents had chosen, she had been as happy 
 as it was necessary for one in her position to be, and, 
 moreover, Guy would marry as she chose an argument 
 in itself. 
 
 The days after that first meeting in the abbey woods 
 ha 1 multiplied into weeks, and still nothing had been said 
 by either Violet or Guy to inform the father of the one or 
 the mother of the other of what had happened. Each 
 shrank from doing what might by some chance interrupt 
 
18 AT PEN A R TH OA STLS. 
 
 "r happiness. They were both secure jn the innocence 
 >f their motives, and there was neither lack of moral 
 courage, nor of conviction that both parents would ap- 
 prove to deter them from speaking ; but there was a sense 
 of the uncertainty of the temper of Violet's father, and in 
 the happiness of the moment neither was anxious to dis- 
 turb the cloudless sky of their love. 
 
 Had Violet said one word to betoken uneasiness Guy 
 would have hastened to tell his mother or her father of 
 their intention to link their fortunes ; but she felt no un- 
 easiness, and said nothing, being more than content that 
 Guy should exercise his own better judgment, and reveal 
 their soft secret to the world when and how he chose. 
 
 Always gay and joyous of temper, Guy in those days 
 was so overflowing with happiness and good-will toward 
 everybody, that all around him were infected by his spir- 
 its, and the visit of the noble party at the castle was 
 voted by them all to be a supreme success. Even Lady 
 Sibyl, who had bowed meekly to the decree of her father, 
 as to a thing there was no gainsaying, but who secretly 
 mourned another lover, yielded Guy the homage of 
 respect and liking, and found it easier than she had sup- 
 posed it would be to contemplate a union with him. 
 
 She was the only young lady of the party, and partly as 
 host, and partly from liking for her, Guy paid her a great 
 deal of attention, devoting his mornings to her, so that 
 no one should think to question the propriety of his soli- 
 tary afternoon rides. Perhaps even his manner had some- 
 thing of affection in it, for he was in a mood to love all 
 the world, and it never occurred to him that his brotherly 
 gallantry could be misunderstood. 
 
 Something seemed to tell him that Lady Sibyl received 
 his advances in the spirit that he made them, and he was 
 so full of his dear love that more than once he had been 
 tempted to share his happiness with the sweet-tempered 
 girl, who was so much more natural with him than it ^ 
 customary for the British maiden of high rank to b<>. 
 
 And Lady Darlington, looking on, saw with delight that, 
 again, and in this important matter, her dear Guy was of 
 his own accord ratifying the choice she had made fo him. 
 She let the companionship continue without interruption 
 by word or sign, and secretly congratulated herself and 
 the marquis on the happy issue of their plan. And the 
 marquis, who was a thorough man of the world, and who 
 was overjoyed at this opportunity to dispose so brilliantly 
 
A7 PENARTH CASTLE. 19 
 
 Is daughter, smil; <1 r i ; placently at the countess, and 
 Jonioally to himselt. 
 
 To him the candor and frank manliness of Guy worn 
 
 only proofs of his callowness and inexperience, and he 
 
 laughed in the privacy of his dressing-room as he thought 
 
 how the young earl would some day surprise his doting 
 
 her by the way he would scatter the rich revenues of 
 
 Darlingtons. How any such development of the vices 
 
 ::is kind might affect his daughter he never thought, 
 
 for the very simple reason that he did not care. Love and 
 
 happiness "might do very well for the vulgar herd, but 
 
 for those who lived on the social heights they did not 
 
 exist. 
 
 Lady Darlington was in no hurry to announce her ap- 
 proval and delight to Guy for it did rejoice his mother's 
 heart that Guy's happiness and duty lay together but 
 one day the time happened opportunely for it, and she 
 took advantage of it. They were sitting before the fire 
 alone in her boudoir, and Guy had been telling her of 
 some merry escapade with Lady Sibyl. 
 "I am glad you like Lacfy Sibyl, Guy." 
 " Like her ! Why, of course ; how could I help it ? She 
 is so free from affectation and prudery." 
 
 "She is an accomplished and gifted lady, and her line- 
 age is as good as our own. Guy." 
 
 "Yes, I believe so. Goes 'back of the Conqueror, I 
 think." 
 
 There was silence for a few minutes, during which Guy 
 himself up to thoughts of one whose ancestry was 
 quite as good as his own ; but whose virtues lifted her to 
 heights he could never hope to attain. He was thinking, 
 however, that he would at least strive to be worthy of her, 
 when his mother, who had been proudly watching his 
 handsome face, said : 
 
 "I have been thinking, Guy, that it was almost time 
 for you to take a wife." 
 
 Guy blushed through the bronze on his cheek, but 
 looked up with a joyous air at his stately mother. 
 "I have been thinking so, too," he said. 
 Lady Darlington laughed at the little touch of happy- 
 embarrassment in his manner, and leaned forward to 
 >ke his cheek with the back of her white, delicately 
 ned hand. The Beresfords, from whom she came, 
 for their hands. 
 
 3m#S 
 
20 MOTHER AND 80 N. 
 
 " You noticed it, lady mother ?" 
 
 It was so he always called her when he was especially 
 pleased. 
 
 "Did you think I was blind, Guy?" 
 
 "No, mother," he answered, with an affectionate earn- 
 estness, "not where your Guy is concerned. You are 
 never blind then." 
 
 She flushed with the pleasure of his words, and for a 
 moment fondled in silence the hand he had put into hers. 
 
 "I think she will be a good and worthy wife, Guy." 
 
 "Too good for my deserts, mother, but I love her so that 
 I do believe that I shall grow more worthy as I know her. 
 Oh, mother, I am so glad you approve, though I was sure 
 you would. I did not mean to keep it a secret so long. 
 Indeed, it has not been so much a secret as a silent enjoy- 
 ment of a happiness so great that it seemed to me I could 
 not speak of it." 
 
 Lady Darlington smiled sympathetically. 
 
 " I did not know you loved so deeply as this, Guy, but I 
 am glad. And does Lady Sibyl reciprocate this love?" 
 
 "Lady Sibyl, mother ! Did you think I spoke of Lady 
 Sibyl ?" cried Guy, staring at his mother. 
 
 "Why, yes," answered Lady Darlington, a startled ex- 
 pression creeping over her face, "of whom else?" 
 
 "Lady Sibyl!" exclaimed Guy, with a short laugh. 
 "Why, mother, I would never think of marrying her. 
 I spoke of Violet Lisle." 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 MOTHER AND SON. 
 
 The words that Guy uttered to his mother were simple 
 ones to him, and he spoke them without either heat or in- 
 decision He had DO thought of opposition from her, and 
 if he spoke decidedly he also spoke calmly. But to Lady 
 Darlington the words were a shock, and almost involun- 
 tarily the question rose sharply to her lips : 
 
 "Who is Violet Lisle?" 
 
 Then a low laugh broke from Guy, and he looked 
 dreamily at the fire. 
 
 "True, mother; I ought to have known that we were 
 playing at cross purposes. How could you know who 
 Violet was? Ah, mother, it is less who she is than what 
 she is." 
 
 He was so serene, so certain of her approval, as she 
 
MOTHER AND SON. 21 
 
 could see, that it was difficult for her to know how to take 
 the startling confession which had been made to her. 
 
 "But who is she, as well as what is she? 11 she asked, in 
 a low tone. 
 
 He studied a moment, clasping his hands over his knee, 
 and rocking slightly as he dreamily pictured Violet to 
 himself. How should he describe her to his mother so 
 that she should gain some faint notion of her perfection ? 
 No, there were no words adequate to the task ; he would 
 tell her who she was, and then his mother should go with 
 him to the abbey woods and see Violet with her own eyes, 
 as he had so often seen her. 
 
 "You know the Lisles of Granthorpe?" he said to his 
 mother. 
 
 A little sigh of relief broke from Lady Darlington's lips. 
 The Lisles of Granthorpe had larger estates and a bigger 
 rent-roll than the Darlingtons even. The estates joined, 
 too. The two families had long been in litigation over a 
 large and important estate, but such a union would heal 
 any divisions, and make the future Earl of Darlington 
 and of Granthorpe one of the most powerful in the United 
 Kingdom. But 
 
 " Is there a daughter, Guy ?" 
 
 "Oh, not of those Lisles," said Guy, carelessly. "Vio- 
 let belongs to the younger branch. Very rich in blood," 
 he added, with his sunny laugh, "but poor in money. 
 Fortunately that will not matter." 
 
 "Will not matter?" she repeated, sharply almost 
 angrily. 
 
 But he did not notice the tone. He was thinking of 
 how little value money was in comparison with Violet's 
 wealth of purity and loveliness. 
 
 "No, it will not matter, thank Heaven! Ah, Lady 
 mother, you will so love her ! I never valued our wealth 
 so much as since I have thought how much happiness she 
 would derive from it. She has been reared in poverty, 
 mother oh, real poverty ! but she is like the flowers 
 that come up through th'e snow all the purer and sweeter 
 for it." 
 
 "Poetical !" said Lady Darlington, with that little sneer 
 which so often precedes the outburst of suppressed anger. 
 
 Guy laughed, unconscious of the storm about to burst. 
 
 "So it was, eh? Violet's influence, mother. I am so 
 anxious for you to meet now that it is out. I ought to 
 have let you share my happiness before. I don't know 
 why T didn't." 
 
jfg MOTHER AND SON. 
 
 "Perhaps that was Violet's influence," sneered Lady 
 Darlington. 
 
 u Oh, no. She said I was to do as I thought best. The 
 truth is" he laughed happily "I haven't thought about 
 it at all. How could I, with Violet to think of?" 
 
 "And how long have you known this paragon?" 
 
 " Eh?" ejaculated Guy, suddenly turning on the low 
 stool upon which he was sitting. "Not angry with me, 
 mother ? Why, mother mine, I did not mean to make a 
 secret of it with you. Do not feel hurt at that. I wish 
 now I had told you, as I first intended. " 
 
 " I wish you had, Guy ; but I hope it is not too late 
 now." 
 
 " Too late ! Not if you feel all right about it." 
 
 " Feel right about it ! Oh, Guy, my honest, guileless 
 Guy, can't you see why you kept from me this secret? 
 why any other man than you would have gone on to the 
 end, keeping the secret?" 
 
 "Not so painfully guileless, mother," said Guy, with a 
 slight smile; " but what do you mean? I don't under 1 
 stand." 
 
 " No, but you will when I bring my worldly wisdom to 
 bear upon it and explain it to you." 
 
 Guy smiled again. The superiority of his mother's 
 worldly wisdom over his was one of the things he had 
 heard a great deal of, and had always accepted as one of 
 those harmless delusions which could not injure his 
 mother, nor him. 
 
 " Then let us have the worldly wisdom, mother," he said, 
 gayly enough. 
 
 'Let us be serious, Guy." 
 
 "Yes, mother," he answered, earnestly, for he could see 
 that she was more moved that he had supposed. 
 
 " How long have you known this Violet Lisle ?" 
 
 "Not 'this' Violet Lisle, mother, please," he said, seri- 
 ously. " I have known her three weeks three weeks in 
 time ; but we do not reckon time by days Violet and I. 
 It seems as if I had always known her, mother.'' 
 
 "And how far has it gone?" asked Lady Darlington, 
 with a compression of the lips. 
 
 "How far has it gone!" he repeated, looking at his 
 mother with a puzzled expression. "I do not quite under- 
 stand." 
 
 "I mean," said Lady Darlington, letting her anger have 
 more play, as his serenity continued, "how much have 
 you Committed yourself to this this person?" 
 
MOTHER AND SON. 23 
 
 There could be no mistake now, and Guy looked at his 
 mother with a flush growing on his cheek, and the color 
 deepening in his dark eye. 
 
 " Why do you speak so, mother ?" 
 
 " How else should I speak when my son comes to me 
 and calmly tells me that he has entangled himself with 
 some unknown person ?" 
 
 Guy rose from his stool and looked at his mother in a 
 way that might well be incomprehensible to her, for never 
 re had he had toward her the feeling that animated 
 hi m then. But he did not lose the calm, even tone that 
 become more pronounced since his discovery of his 
 mother's anger. 
 
 "You are speaking of Violet Lisle, mother," he said, 
 gravely, " but I must forgive you, since you do not know 
 her. Jn future I bee: you to avoid such words as * person' 
 and 'entangled' in speaking of her. Say what you will, 
 ask me what you will of her, but do not for a moment for- 
 get that you are speaking of my future wife." 
 
 Lady Darlington looked up at her tall son, and saw in 
 him the man she had never before realized. There was 
 something startling in the sudden change in him from the 
 gay, pliant son to the grave, dignified man ; but the 
 mother clung to the belief which had grown up with him, 
 that he could not gainsay her. In all these years she had 
 not come to know the man that was hidden under the lov- 
 ing son, and to her this betrayal of dignity was but a pass- 
 ing phase of emotion, and she went on in the path she had 
 mapped out, and which was to lead her whither bitter sor- 
 row abided. 
 
 "And you, Guy," she said, sternly, "do you forget that 
 it is to your mother that you are speaking ?" 
 
 " No, I do not forget it. Had I forgotten, my words 
 would have been different." Then his manner suddenly 
 changed, and the old affectionate look darted into his 
 eyes. " Come, mother, do not let any difference come be- 4 
 tween us. Think cf all these years since ever I can 
 remember, when until now there has not been a word ex- 
 cept of love and kindness from each to the other." 
 
 He knelt by her side, and took her hand and smiled at 
 hor in his own sunny way, and she could not but soften 
 ami smile back at him. But the pride of ^aste and of 
 authority, that ruled her, would not let her yield to him, 
 but rather she would interpret his loving grace to mean 
 weakness, and that mado her firm to go her way, when 
 for the last time she might have turned and kept the sun- 
 
24 MOTHER AXD SON. 
 
 light of happiness shining on the faces of both of them. 
 
 "No, Guy," she said, stroking his chestnut curls, but in 
 the voice was not all sweetness, but some imperiousness, 
 u let there come no difference between us. There never 
 has, and shall this girl, whom you have known but three 
 weeks, and whom I know not at all, be the first to cause 
 it?" 
 
 " Violet cause the difference ! Oh, mother, if you but 
 knew her ! Go with me to her see her but once. How 
 can you comprehend her, not knowing her?" 
 
 "Guy, I am older than you ; I know more of the world 
 than you. It is not necessary that I should see her or 
 know her to understand what you, poor boy, cannot un- 
 derstand. It is not you and your loving heart that she 
 cares for it is your* wealth and your title." 
 
 " Mother ! mother !" he cried, in pain ; u do not say such 
 a thing of Violet. Fire might freeze and ice burn, but 
 that could not be true of her." 
 
 "It is true, Guy, and you shall not marry her." 
 
 " Shall not, mother 1" and he rose from her side, a cold, 
 hard expression chasing away the softer one from his 
 face. 
 
 " Yes shall not ! You shall never link yourself to a 
 designing adventuress !" 
 
 "You have said enough, mother. Listen to me. I 
 hope I shall not forget that you are my mother. I have 
 told you that Violet Lisle shall be my wife, and so she 
 shall !" 
 
 There was that in the deepened tones of his voice, in 
 the glowing darkness of his eyes that thrilled and shot to 
 the heart of the mother, and the woman quailed before 
 the man, but she could not believe that he would not still 
 be the puppet which, in his loyal, affectionate yielding to 
 her she had grown to believe him to be. 
 
 "She shall never be your wife, Guy! I am your 
 mother, and I command you to put from you this boyish 
 infatuation." 
 
 " Boyish infatuation !" he repeated, more sadly than 
 angrily. " Mother, look at me, as you never have looked 
 at me not at my height and breadth for my manhood, 
 although they ought to be enough ; but at my face. Is it 
 that of a weak boy ? Can you not comprehend that I 
 have loved you so well that since I have grown to man's 
 estate I have done from pure affection what in my boy- 
 hood I did from duty? And now I come to you, saying I 
 love a woman so good and so pure, so uplifted beyond 
 
GUY'S PLAN. 25 
 
 anything I ever dreamed of, that she is a thousand times 
 too good for me ; and you will not even see her. Is this 
 the love of a parent, wishing the best for the son who has 
 never before conscientiously caused her a pang ! Will 
 you not see Violet, mother ?" 
 
 "I will not, and I forbid your doing so." 
 
 He turned away sorrowfully. 
 
 ;t Well, mother. I will not multiply words with you. 
 I shall marry Violet, and I hope that you will receive her 
 as your daughter." 
 
 " Never, Guy ! never ! And let me say to you here and 
 now," and she rose passionately from her chair, "that if 
 you marry that woman I shall disinherit you, and you 
 know what that means." 
 
 A faint, sad smile passed over his lips, and without a 
 word he left the room, that so few minutes before had 
 been echoing with his infectious mirth. And even then 
 the imperious mother could not comprehend her more 
 haughty son. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 GUY'S PLAN. 
 
 Guy knew his mother better than she knew him, and 
 that knowledge told him that she would never yield her 
 position as long as there was any hope that he would 
 yield his. And he felt that she misjudged him so much 
 that she would not be convinced that he was in earnest 
 until he had put it out of the reach of doubt. 
 
 But how was that to be accomplished ? He had already 
 told his mother, as emphaticalty as he knew how, that he 
 would marry Violet in spite of her opposition, in spite of 
 her threat to disinherit him, and still he knew that she 
 believed he would finally yield. 
 
 The threat of disinheritance brought a faint smile to his 
 face as he recalled it. It was his mother's last card, and 
 the manner in which she had played it was evidence that 
 she considered it a strong one. How strange it seemed to 
 him that his mother could think for a moment that money 
 could have any weight in the balance against the love of 
 such a one as Violet. 
 
 Lady Darlington's fortune was an immense one, and 
 was all that made the earldom of value, for the income 
 from the estate which went with the title was not much 
 over five thousand pounds a year, a sum quite inadequate 
 
96 GUTS PLAN. 
 
 to the proper maintenance of the dignity of the earldom. 
 But if the income had been one half of what it was, and 
 the fortune of Lady Darlington twice what it was, Guy 
 would still have clung to the love of Violet as incompar- 
 ably the most precious thing to him. 
 
 The truth was he told himself that Lady Darlington did 
 not know Violet. He was as serenely certain that Lady 
 Darlington would love Violet when she knew her as he 
 was that he loved Violet. But how should he bring it 
 about that his mother should know her? 
 
 It never entered his head to give up Violet not for an 
 instant, and although he did not argue the matter with 
 himself there was a feeling down in his heart that he 
 would give up everything else in the world first. 
 
 He knew it would be an uncomfortable day at the cas- 
 tle, so he made some matter of business at Houghton his 
 excuse, and rode away there, timing his return so that he 
 would be just in time for his tryst with Violet. 
 
 The ride in the crisp air exhilarated him, and there was 
 not even a trace of the unpleasant effects of the morning's 
 interview in his manner when he rode up to where Violet 
 sat sketching. She dropped her pencil at the first sound 
 of the horse's hoofs, and sprang to her feet with a glad 
 smile of welcome. 
 
 "Dick looks tired," she said, stroking the arched neck 
 of the intelligent animal. " Have you been for a gallop ?" 
 
 "I come from Houghton. How well he knows his 
 future mistress !" and he leaped from the saddle, and bent 
 over to kiss the blushing face turned up to him, and so 
 they stood together for a minute, his arm around her 
 waist, her head on his breast, and Dick tossing his head 
 and champing his bit. 
 
 Then Guy threw the bridle over a convenient branch, 
 and led Violet to their favorite seat under the oak where 
 she had first known her own and his love. Guy let her 
 sit while he stood before her, gazing with enthusiastic 
 admiration on her beautiful face. 
 
 "Could anything make you give me up, Violet?" he 
 asked, suddenly. 
 
 She looked up with a startled air. 
 
 "Give you up, Guy? I do not understand." 
 
 "Do not look so frightened, love," he said, sinking be- 
 fore her to one knee, that they might be nearer. "I 
 would not give you up no, not for anything this world 
 had to offer ; but I have been wondering what you would 
 
QUY'S PLAN. 27 
 
 do if your father should say that you must not marry me. 
 What would you do in such a case ?" 
 
 Sho looked serious for a moment, and then, with a smile 
 of confidence almost divine to him it was divine she 
 said : 
 
 " I had never thought of it, Guy, but I know what I 
 should do I should tell you and ask you to decide for 
 
 "And you believe that I am wise enough, and true 
 enough, and brave enough to decide for you as will be 
 best for you leaving myself out of the question?" 
 
 She put her hand in his hand and looked with angelic 
 trustfulness into his eyes. 
 
 "I believe you are all these things, Guy. 1^ know that 
 you would do as I would do sacrifice yourself to my 
 happiness." 
 
 "Yes, Violet," he answered, his voice shaking with 
 
 tion, "I do believe that I value your happiness so 
 
 much above my own that I could decide unselfishly. And 
 
 yet I love you so I do not know Pray Heaven, I 
 
 shall decide as is best for you." 
 
 There was an earnestness in his manner that troubled 
 her now, and she asked, with a tremor in her voice : 
 
 " Has anything happened, Guy ?" 
 
 "Yes, my dear love, the most unexpected thing has 
 happened. At first I thought I would not speak of it to 
 you, and then I felt that it would be wrong to conceal 
 from you even what might make you unhappy. Was I 
 right?" 
 
 " Assuredly, my Guy. It seems to me that you could 
 not do wrong. What has happened ? You do not seem 
 much troubled." 
 
 " No, and I am not ; but I fear that you will see more of 
 importance in it than there truly is." 
 
 "Tell me," and she smiled as one who is not afraid. 
 
 "My mother forbids me to marry you." 
 
 " Forbids you ! Oh, Guy !" and her face suddenly 
 blanched 
 
 " Yes, she forbids me ; but why do you look so fright- 
 ened, my darling? You did not seem so greatly troubled 
 at the thought oi your father's displeasure." 
 
 She paused a moment, as if doubtful of her own 
 thought, then said : 
 
 kt was different. I know my father, and I am sure 
 
 say no r Cor- 
 
 : Po you 
 
28 GUY'S PLAN. 
 
 what. I mean ? He is so consumed by his pride of blood 
 that while he would forgive nothing to my love for you 
 he would forgive anything to your title. Is it wrong for 
 me to speak so of my father ?" 
 
 "I think not, Violet. And what you say of your father 
 I can say with a difference of my mother. She does not 
 know you, and she will not know you. I know her that 
 well. As long as you are Violet Lisle she will refuse to 
 see you ; but when she knows that you are my wife, and 
 that she is powerless to have it otherwise she will yield 
 and take you to her heart." 
 
 " Are you sure, Guy ?" 
 
 "As sure as that I live." 
 
 " Why should she forbid you to marry me ?" 
 
 " Her heart is set on another alliance for me one that 
 will unite my own coronet with another." 
 
 " Perhaps she will never forgive me for standing be- 
 tween her and her will." 
 
 "When she knows you she will love you." 
 
 " And how will you bring us together, since she refuses 
 to see me ?" 
 
 " She refuses to see Violet Lisle. She will not refuse to 
 see Lady Darlington." 
 
 Guy spoke in a low tone, and took both of Violet's 
 hands in his as he said this. For a moment she did not 
 comprehend ; then a deep flush suffused her face and she 
 rather gasped than said : 
 
 " Oh, Guy !" 
 
 " Does it startle you, darling ?" 
 
 " Oh, Guy, Guy ! it seems to me that I could never do 
 that." 
 
 " Does it shock you so much ? It is the only thing I can 
 think of. We cannot go to your father and say that we 
 wish his consent, but that my mother refuses hers. 5Tou 
 know he would then forbid you to have anything more to 
 do with me. My mother will not yield. What shall we 
 do then ? I will not ask you to consent to a runaway mar- 
 riage if it makes you feel so badly ; but I despair of any 
 other plan." 
 
 "It seems so unmaidenly a thing to do," she said, 
 tremulously. 
 
 " Yes, if it could be accomplished in any other way, but 
 I will not urge you, darling. It shall all be as you will." 
 
 "How good ! how unselfish you are, my Guy. Perhaps 
 I am wrong to feel as I do. Tell me how you have 
 planned it, and I will try to accustom myself to the idea, " 
 
LADY DARLINGTON'S PLAN. 29 
 
 " You shall not force yourself tc agree with me, my 
 dear one. 1 ' 
 
 She smiled lovingly at him. 
 
 "Already it seems less to me," she said, bravely. "A 
 new thought is always startling. Tell me how you had 
 planned it, for I know you have planned it all out. " 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 LADY DARLINGTON'S PLAN. 
 
 The shock to Lady Darlington of Guy's determined 
 stand against her authority was so great that although 
 she would not permit herself to believe that he would or 
 could hold out, she could not for some time recover suffi- 
 ciently to think of the matter calmly. 
 
 She saw Guy ride out of the court-yard on Dick, and 
 knew that he was going to see Violet Lisle. His message 
 that he was going to Houghton did not deceive her, but it 
 did rouse her to action. It was quite evident that the girl 
 had a strong influence over Guy, and for the first time a 
 feeling of alarm mingled with her other emotions. Sup- 
 pose the girl should persuade him to marry her ! 
 
 The thought was a poignant one to the hauerhty aris- 
 tocrat, who could see in Violet only a designing girl, 
 alliance with whom could Only be degradation for the 
 Earl of Darlington. She was not a hard woman in the 
 ordinary affairs of life. She was haughty and proud, but 
 kindly and considerate with her inferiors and always 
 ready and glad to do a deed of kindness. 
 
 Now, however, she felt toward the unknown girl who 
 had come between her and her son, a bitterness and anger 
 that would have enabled her to crush her remorselessly to 
 the dust under her feet. But what should she do? It 
 was a question she felt powerless to answer, and after an 
 hour or more of futile struggle with the vexing problem 
 she suddenly rang the bell. 
 
 "If Lord Coldenham is in the castle," she said to her 
 maid, "ask him if he will be good enough to come to my 
 drawing-room. " 
 
 The Marquis of Coldenham was a good type of the 
 English nobleman. He had a fine presence, a faultless 
 manner, a face as calm and emotionless as that of a mar- 
 ble statue, and he was dressed in perfect accordance with 
 the prevailing fashion. He was curious to know why he 
 had been sent for by Lady Darlington, but that and every 
 
30 LADY JlAKLlNGTON'ti 
 
 other feeling was carefully hidden under an elaborate 
 courtesy of manner. 
 
 " I wish to consult with you, Lord Coldenham," said 
 Lady Darlington, with an absence of conventionality that 
 proved to him at once how much disturbed she was. 
 
 "It is an honor, Lady Darlington," he answered, with a 
 low bow. 
 
 "I have taken the liberty," she went on, "as much be- 
 cause you are an old and tried friend as because you are 
 the father of the girl I would have my son marry." 
 
 Lord Coldenham was on the instant full of anxious at- 
 tention. This was a matter that touched him more 
 closely than even her ladyship imagined, but his manner 
 never lost its indifferent courtesy. 
 
 "Whatever service I can be to you, Lady Darlington," 
 he said, "will be an obligation laid upon me." 
 
 "You are kind to say so. I spoke to Guy to-day of 
 Sibyl." 
 
 "Yes?" and the tone was perfectly even and uncon- 
 cerned ; but there was a sudden light in the eye of the 
 noble marquis that told of an interest he would not be- 
 tray. 
 
 "Yes, and he told me that he was entangled with some 
 adventuress." 
 
 " Not already married !" exclaimed the marquis, with 
 rather more quickness than comported with his justly 
 celebrated repose of manner. 
 
 " No, oh, no ; but determined to marry her. It is the 
 first time he has ever refused to listen to me, and it shows 
 that the woman has gained a strong power over him." 
 
 The marquis smiled. He had a supreme contempt for 
 Gkiy, whose character was quite incomprehensible to him. 
 
 "If he is not already married, and you know tho 
 woman, there can be no reason for distress," he said. 
 
 "Do you, think so?" said Lady Darlington, with a sigh 
 of relief, for the worldly wisdom of the marquis was a 
 thing that even she might bow to. " I know the woman 
 at least I know who she is. Her name is Violet Lisle,J 
 and she lives in the village with her father, who belongs 
 to a younger branch of the Lisles of Granthorpe. ' 
 
 "Poor?" 
 
 " Wretchedly poor, I judge from what Guy said . He 
 could not see it, but it was immediately evident to ftiQ 
 that it' was his money and title that attracted her." 
 
 "Does the father know?" 
 
IADY DARLINGTON'S PLAN. 
 
 "I suppose so. I have no doubt he is fostering the in- 
 fatuation of my poor Guy." 
 
 " And you wish my advice ?" 
 
 " If you will be good enough to give it to me. I should 
 have asked it even had not the marriage of our children 
 been involved." 
 
 u It appears to me quite simple, Lady Darlington. I 
 agree with you that it is Guy's money these people care 
 for more than anything else. It seems to me the best 
 plan would be to go to the father and ask him frankly how 
 much he will take to call his daughter off." 
 
 "I, had thought of that, but if I let him think he has 
 any power he may endeavor to extort almost any sum of 
 money." 
 
 " Not if you first tell him that Guy is dependent on you 
 for his income." 
 
 " That is true. And you think I ought to go in person ?" 
 
 " It would be the most effectual plan. Of course I am 
 perfectly willing to go to him for you ; but you see he is a 
 tenant of yours, and, no doubt, a shabby genteel fellow 
 who will be more overawed by you than by any emissary 
 you could send. You might indeed send for him to come 
 to you ; but I should incline to the idea that it would be 
 better for you to go to him as you would to any of your 
 tenants, and assume with him that tone which you would 
 naturally assume with an inferior who had presumed to 
 do so outrageous a thing." 
 
 This advice fell in so well with Lady Darlington's own 
 feelings that she accepted it without a moment of hesita- 
 tion. 
 
 " You are right. I will go to this man this afternoon, 
 for I shall be uneasy until I have freed Guy from this 
 entanglement. You can imagine, Lord Coldenham, what 
 a hold it has taken upon him, when I tell you that in'the 
 face of my direct command to him to relinquish her l;o 
 told me that nothing should prevent his marriage to her." 
 
 "Is she beautiful?" asked the marquis. 
 
 "Guy speaks of her as if she were something worrier- 
 ful ; but the poor boy is so infatuated thrt it would rot 
 surprise me to find her something the very reverse of 
 beautiful. But it shall be ended at once, and then he and 
 Sibyl must be married at as early a day as possible. Do 
 you not agree with me ?" 
 
 "Entirely," answered the marquis. 
 
 The conference ended with some further desultory talk, 
 and that afternoon Lady Darlington ordered her carriage, 
 
32 TWO ARISTOCRATS. 
 
 and was driven over to the ^illage, feeling quite at eas< 
 with herself, and with no premonition of the reception she 
 would receive from Melville Lisle, a man whose life of 
 poverty had only accentuated his pride, so that it stood 
 out the one feature of his otherwise monotonous existence. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 TWO ARISTOCRATS. 
 
 Looking at Melville Lisle it was easy to see where Vio- 
 let got her beauty ; but the same glance would also betray 
 the fact that it was not from her father that she received 
 her sweet and wholesome nature ; for on his face was set- 
 tled the expression of an an^ry, discontented pride, draw- 
 ing down the corners of a well-cut mouth and lengthening 
 the curve of the nostrils. 
 
 Too proud to do anything to lighten his poverty, he yet 
 had a brain too active to be content with sloth, and so he 
 had long since turned his thoughts to literature as a field 
 in which he might without disgrace exercise his faculties. 
 Nothing so frivolous as a tale of love ever came from his 
 pen, however. ' It was a thing he could not understand, 
 nor could he tolerate it as a factor in a properly regulated 
 life. His great work was a disquisition on the correlation 
 and conservation of forces a work that would have 
 doubtless created a revolution in the thought of the world 
 if it had ever found a publisher, which, for some reason, 
 it never did find. 
 
 The cottage was a small one, but if it had been half the 
 size it would have found one room for his library, if Vio- 
 let and Goody White had slept on the roof. Melville 
 Lisle's books were for the most part a portion of the over- 
 flow from the library of Granthorpe, which had been given 
 to his father by the then earl, and which typified to Mel- 
 ville Lisle the aristocratic pretensions to which he clung 
 as to the most precious thing of his life. 
 
 He was sitting in his library, adding a thought or two 
 to a new work on " diaphragmatic propulsion of impalpa- 
 ble particles," when Goody White, in a tremor of intense 
 excitement, burst into the sacred room without the cus- 
 tomary knock of respectful deprecation. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Lisle !" she gasped, "Mr. Lisle !" 
 
 "What is the meaning of this intrusion ?" demanded 
 Mr. Lisle, with a coldness that should have had its effect 
 on Goody, as it usually did, but in this case did not. 
 
TWO ARISTOCRATS. 33 
 
 41 Lady Darlington, sir," whispered Goody, shaking her 
 two hands at him in a most impressive manner. 
 
 " What about Lady Darlington ?" demanded Mr. Lisle, 
 haughtily. 
 
 " In the parlor, sir, she is, with her own carriage waitin' 
 outside. An' she asked for you, sir. I was that dum- 
 founded, sir, when I see who it were to be sure " 
 
 "That will do," said Mr. Lisle, with dignity. "Tell 
 Lady Darlington that I will be with her presently." 
 
 And Goody White went from him, marveling at the 
 composure with which he could receive so startling an 
 event, and beginning to comprehend that her master was 
 really one of the great ones of the earth. Else, as she 
 said, "he would 'a been more flustered like." 
 
 it would not be true to say that Melville Lisle was un- 
 moved by the announcement that Lady Darlington had 
 come to visit him at his humble cottage "hovel" he 
 called it but he had cultivated an aristocratic repose of 
 manner too long to be betrayed into any expression of 
 feeling even when brought into unexpected contact with 
 such a piece of intelligence. 
 
 He changed his (Dilapidated smoking- jacket for his coat, 
 and put himself into as good trim as lay in his power with 
 the wretched means at his command, and then, with the 
 air of an aristocrat to the manner born, descended the 
 stairs to the little parlor, which was pretty and sweet 
 with the little refinements bestowed upon it by Violet, but 
 which to him looked especially mean and poverty-stricken 
 now, as he entered it and made a quick contrast between 
 it and the richly clad peeress who sat there waiting for 
 him. 
 
 But if he felt the poorness of the little room he did not 
 betray the feeling ; but rather the more he felt it the 
 higher mounted his pride, and he bore himself with pre- 
 cisely such an air as the Earl of Granthorpe would have 
 done in his great drawing-room at the castle, insomuch 
 that Lady Darlington was fain to rise to leturn his 
 courtly salutation, whereas she had intended to put him 
 in his place at once by remaining seated. 
 
 "Lady Darlington does me a great honor,*' said Melville 
 Lisle, but said it with a grand air of rather conferring 
 than receiving an honor. 
 
 "This is Mr. Melville Lisle?" inquired Lady Darlington, 
 endeavoring in vain to throw into her manner an air <>f 
 patronage. The stately, haughty courtesy of her tenant 
 compelled her to a like courtesy. 
 
34 TWO ARISTOCRATS. 
 
 it- 
 
 'It is. Pray be seated," and he waved her to a chair. 
 
 Much as he hated the shabby little parlor he would not 
 have uttered a word o'f apology for it, acting with Lady 
 Darlington as he had always acted with others, on the as- 
 Humption that Melville Lisle had nothing to apologize for. 
 He wished her to understand that that wretched room, 
 with a descendant of the Lisles in it, w T as all that could be 
 demanded by the most fastidious. 
 
 Lady Darlington felt all this, and it angered her that 
 instead of being borne down by her presence he dared to 
 hold himself to all appearances even higher than herself. 
 It put her in not the best mood for the conference, and 
 made her perhaps more icy than she otherwise would 
 have been. She felt, in fact, that the man before her 
 knew her errand, and assumed his manner to force her to 
 better terms. It was on this assumption that she began : 
 
 " I presume you know why I am here, Mr. Lisle ?" she 
 said, haughtily. 
 
 "Indeed, Lady Darlington, I am utterly at a loss to 
 know." 
 
 His answer was as haughty as her own, and tinged with 
 an exasperating indifference that stung her to say : 
 
 " At least you will understand that it is not a visit of 
 pleasure." 
 
 It was by this time quite plain that Lady Darlington 
 had not come in any amicable spirit, and Melville Lisle 
 was always only too ready to accept a slight to let this go 
 unnoticed, and yet his overweening sense of what was 
 due to himself was too great to permit him to commit an 
 overt act of discourtesy to a lady. He could not, how- 
 ever, let this pass. He bowed politely. 
 
 "It becomes a gentleman to agree with a lady," he said, 
 ironically. " There can be no doubt that this is not a visit 
 of pleasure." 
 
 Lady Darlington bit her lip. 
 
 "You have a daughter, Violet Lisle," she said, abruptly. 
 
 He merely bo\ved. 
 
 "It is of her that I came here to speak," said Lady Dar- 
 lington, determined now to plunge at once into the sub- 
 ject. 
 
 Again Melville Lisle only bowed. Lady Darlington 
 was exasperated. 
 
 "I presume you know," she said, "of her relations to 
 my son." 
 
 Melville Lisle rose from his chair, his face white with 
 ang- 
 
ARISTOCRATS. 35 
 
 "Lady Darlington, you are speaking of my daughter/ 1 
 
 It was his proprietary interest in his daughter that was 
 touched not his daughter, but his dignity; but Lady 
 Darlington could not appreciate the distinction. She only 
 remembered with angry suddenness that she had been re- 
 buked by her son more than once during her interview 
 with him for speaking lightly of the same Violet Lisle. It 
 was that that made her say : 
 
 " I am speaking of the girl who has entangled my son 
 into a promise of marriage." 
 
 For a moment the fury of the man was almost beyond 
 control ; then he drew himself up proudly, and said, with 
 a disdainful quietude : 
 
 "It would have been well, Lady Darlington, to have as- 
 sured yourself of the identity of the person of whom you 
 speak/ My daughter does not know your son. I trust 
 you will pardon me if I wish you a very good-day." 
 
 He bowed with ceremonious slowness, and would have 
 left the room, but Lady Darlington, staggered by his quiet 
 assurance that she had made a mistake, hastened to say : 
 
 " One moment, sir. If I have made a mistake I shall be 
 over glad to offer you an apology." 
 
 "An apology is quite unnecessary, Lady Darlington, 
 whether you have made a mistake or not. It will be a 
 waste of words to pursue this matter. Your son has not 
 the honor of my daughter's acquaintance." 
 
 Again he bowed, and would have withdrawn, but Lady 
 Darlington would not have it. 
 
 " 1 beg your pardon, but are you not of the younger 
 branch of the Lisles of Granthorpe?" 
 
 "lam." 
 
 No Spanish hidalgo ever showed a haughtier pride in 
 his ancestry. 
 
 "And is not your daughter named Violet?" 
 
 "She is." 
 
 "Then, sir, whether you know it or not, there is an en- 
 gagement between your daughter and my son a marriage 
 engagement." 
 
 Mr. Lisle smiled with a sort of weary disdain. 
 
 " Upon whose authority do you say such a thing, Lady 
 Darlington ?" 
 
 "My son told me of it this morning." 
 
 " And is your son in his right mind ?" 
 
 "I never doubted it until this morning," was the quick 
 retort. "I told him at once that such a misalliance was 
 
3fi TWO ARISTOCRATS. 
 
 not to be contemplated for a moment, and he answered 
 me by saying that he would marry Violet Lisle." 
 
 Melville Lisle hardly changed color, but he answered 
 with cutting deliberation : 
 
 u Your son's dementia has assumed a singular form 
 but you need not be alarmed for my daughter. If he 
 should .present himself to me to ask for the hand of my 
 daughter for I presume the loss of his reason has not 
 blunted his consciousness of his duty as a gentleman I 
 
 "THE DARLING-TONS TRACE THEMSELVES ONLY TO ONE HUGH 
 
 DARLING. " 
 
 should tell him, as you have done, that such a misalliance 
 is not to be contemplated." 
 
 I am glad you can see it in that light, Mr. Lisle " 
 
 b would indeed be strange if I could not. Do you 
 think I can forget, Lady Darlington, that the Lisles were 
 trusted counselors of the Norman William while the Dar- 
 
TWO ARISTOCRATS. 37 
 
 lingtons trace themselves only to one Hugh Darling, who, 
 in the seventh Henry's time, rose by dishonorable prac- 
 tices from the bake-shop to the peerage, to the scandal of 
 the gentry of that day T 
 
 Lady Darlington turned scarlet. She could not deny 
 the truth of what was said to her, but it seemed the very 
 madness of pride in the man that gave him the audacity 
 to say such a thing. She rose from her chair with a 
 stately ignoring of what he had suid. 
 
 '' Then I may count on you to aid my efforts to prevent 
 this unfortunate affair going any further ?" 
 
 "You have my assurance, in the first place, that the 
 affair has no existence outside of the disordered brain of 
 your unhappy son, and in the next place that I would 
 never permit my daughter to contract so damaging a mis- 
 alliance. I would be chary of offering any advice in the 
 matter, Lady Darlington, but since you have done me the 
 honor to consult me I would suggest Sir William Doyle, 
 of London, as an expert in nervous disorders. You have 
 my utmost sympathy for the unfortunate young man. I 
 trust he will evenutally recover his mental balance. 
 Good-day, Lady Darlington." 
 
 Lady Darlington had had the worst of the encounter, 
 and was going away with a singular hatred of the inno- 
 cent cause of it. Even the stinging sarcasm and fanatical 
 pride of the father she could forgive, because she could 
 understand it, but the power of an unknown girl to cause 
 her to be the participant in two such interviews in the 
 same day she could not forgive. It was therefore more 
 with a threat against her than against Melville Lisle that 
 she turned at the door of the cottage, and said to the 
 latter : 
 
 " Perhaps it is unnecessary for me to say if by any un- 
 foreseen contretemps my son should marry without my 
 consent I would disinherit him. His title, with the small 
 income that goes with it, would be of little value to a 
 woman marrying him for wealth and position." 
 
 "It is extremely gratifying to be taken into your con- 
 fidence about your family affairs, Lady Darlington, and if 
 your poor child should come to me I will not fail to repeat 
 what you say. Soothing measures, however ah, I wish 
 you good -day," and he bowed courteously as she stepped 
 into her carriage and was driven off. 
 
 He closed the door gently enough, but when that was 
 done all the pent-up fury burst forth in an angry sum- 
 
38 TWO ARISTOCRATS. 
 
 mons to Violet. Violet, however, was not at home, and 
 Goody White, looking very fearful, appeared in her stead. 
 
 U I wish to see Violet," he said. 
 
 "She is not home, sir." 
 
 " Where is she ?" 
 
 "Out sketching, sir." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 Goody White, who was usually very voluble, even with 
 the master, in such awe of whom she stood, could not for 
 the moment answer the question even in a few words. 
 She hesitated and stammered until Melville Lisle de- 
 manded, harshly : 
 
 "Well, why do you not answer?" 
 
 "She's sketchin' the abbey, sir," faltered Goody. 
 
 Melville Lisle looked at her with rising anger and sus- 
 picion. 
 
 " Woman !" he said, wrathfully, " you heard what 
 passed between me and Lady Darlington in the parlor" - 
 which was quite true, though it made the good creature 
 almost jump out of her skin to be so suddenly accused. 
 "What do you know of the matter?" 
 
 "Nothing, sir; not a word, which I would have known, 
 sir, if there'd been any truth in it, sir. Leastwise she 
 
 always has told me when if It never were her 
 
 fault, sir " 
 
 " What do you mean ? Is it possible that my daugh- 
 ter - Serd her to me when she comes. Stop 1 How 
 long has she been sketching the abbey ?" 
 
 " It may be goin' on three weeks, sir, or the like o' 
 that." 
 
 "Why did you hesitate when I askd you where she 
 was?" 
 
 "Yes, sir yes, sir. Hesitate oh, yes, sir. Why, you 
 see, sir n 
 
 'No rambling story simply the truth." 
 
 " Yes, sir. I was all struck up, sir, with what Lady 
 Darlington had been sayin% sir, and I s'pose I thought as 
 
 how it might be Bless my soul, sir ! she be as good 
 
 as any Darlington as ever lived, and maybe ' 
 
 "We will not discuss that," interrupted Mr. Lisle. 
 
 But Goody was launched now, and even her fear of the 
 wrath of her master could not check her. 
 
 " Ay, but 'twas a good un you gave her ladyship about 
 the baker man 1 I had to clap my hand to my mouth to 
 hush my " 
 
 ' 
 
P.ARWTS AND CHILDREN. 39 
 
 " Be still !" thundered he, thumping his fist angrily on 
 t.he table. " Send Violet to me when she comes in." 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 PARENTS AND CHILDREN. 
 
 Very much troubled, in spite of herself, by her inter- 
 view with Guy, yet very happy withal, Violet returned 
 home that afternoon from the abbey woods. She wished 
 more time to think it all over, and went around by the 
 village, stopping at a cottage here and there, as her cus- 
 tom was, to say a cheery word to some bedridden inmate. 
 
 She had very little but kind words and little helpful 
 acts to give, but no Lady Bountiful was ever received 
 with gladder smiles than she was, and it was always an 
 innocent pleasure to her to know that with all the narrow- 
 ness of her life she was yet able to do some good. 
 
 And to-day, as she went from one poor hut to another, 
 her heart was filled with happiness at the thought that 
 when she was Lady Darlington she could do many things 
 to brighten the lives that now seemed to have no sunshine 
 in them. 
 
 But already she herself was sunshine enough. Not to 
 the old a ad decrepit only, but to the young and strong, 
 for as she passed through the village more than one heart 
 was lightened by a smile from her, and even the children 
 stopped in their play to look up and greet her. 
 
 When she turned into the lane that led to her own cot- 
 tage she espied Goody White leaning over the gate, and it 
 seemed to her that there was something of trouble indi 
 cated in the attitude ; but she laughed softly, thinking 
 the cake had been overbrowned, or that Speckle had 
 taken to eating her eggs, as Goody had long suspected. 
 
 Then Goody looked up and saw her, and with a furtive 
 look behind, to see if she was watched, opened the gate, 
 and hurried 'down the lane to meet her darling. And 
 Violet gayly fell into an old childish trick and ran skip- 
 ping to meet her. But when they were quite near and 
 Goody cried out, in a woeful tone, "Oh, Miss Vi'let 1" she 
 stopped and waited. 
 
 "What is it, Goody?" 
 
 "Your father. Oh, he is " 
 
 "Not ill, Goody?" 
 
 **No, but that ragin' ! I never see him like it before, no 
 
40 PARENTS AND CHILDREN. 
 
 never. And you, my blessed lamb, the cause, of it ; and 
 you never told me a word." 
 
 A sudden consternation seized Violet. 
 
 "What do you mean, Goody?" 
 
 "He's found it all out, every bit of it, and she's been 
 here, too. But he give her as good as she sent, and bet- 
 ter, too. The Darlingtons, he said, came from a baker 
 man, and she couldn't deny it. But he's that ragin' !" 
 
 " Who's been here, Goody ? What is papa angry about ?" 
 
 "YOUR FATHER'S RAGIN'." 
 
 "Lady Darlington, and he wants to see you at once. 
 Oh, my poor lamb ! Why didn't you tell your Goody all 
 about it?" 
 
 Through the incoherence of the good creature Violet 
 could determine that something affecting her happiness 
 had taken place at the house that afternoon, and that her 
 father was angrily awaiting her coming. It was always 
 
PARENTS AND CUlLDLiEN. 41 
 
 easier for Violet to face a trouble than to shirk it, and she 
 quickened her step at once, soothing Goody with caresses 
 and kind words. 
 
 She removed her hat as she ran up stairs, and held it 
 dangling as she entered the library after knocking and 
 being bidden to enter. 
 
 Her father had evidently been pacing the floor, and his 
 face was dark with anger as he turned and looked from 
 her dusty boots to her hat hanging by its ribbon from her 
 arm. 
 
 " You wished me to come to you, papa ?" 
 
 " Where have you been ?" he sternly demanded. 
 
 u In the abbey woods. " 
 
 "Doing what?" 
 
 " You are angry with me, papa ; will you not tell me 
 why ?" said Violet, with a sweet dignity. 
 
 u Yes, but tell me first what you were doing in the abbey 
 woods. 1 " 
 
 "Sketching the abbey part of the time." 
 
 " And the other part ?" 
 
 Violet flushed at the tone, but answered, slowly : 
 
 "Talking with Lord Darlington." 
 
 "And may I ask," he said, with a fury hardly concealed 
 under an elaborate attempt at irony, "how long- you have 
 known Lord Darlington, and what you talk about ? I am 
 only your father, but I would like to know." 
 
 The little tremor of dismay which Violet had felt at 
 first had passed away now, and she found herself wonder- 
 ing at her own calmness. 
 
 " I have known Lord Darlington a little more than three 
 weeks." 
 
 " And what is it that you talk of together ?" 
 
 "Papa," she said, with gentle deprecation, " please do 
 not speak to me in that way ; please do not be angry." 
 
 " Angry 1" he repeated. " I wonder that I can restrain 
 myself at all. Is it really true, then, that my daughter 
 has brought such a shame and disgrace upon the name she 
 bears ?" 
 
 " Papa !" she cried, in a sort of horror. " How can you 
 say such a thing. How can you think it ?" 
 
 " How can I say it, miserable girl ! Is it not true that 
 you have clandestinely met this Lord Darlington these 
 past three weeks Heaven knows how often ?" 
 
 "It is true, papa," replied Violet, with exquisite dig- 
 nity, "and it is also true that I have promised to be his 
 wife." 
 
42 PARENTS AND CHILDREN. 
 
 "His wife I His wife you shall never be !" he cried, 
 furiously. "Let it pass that you have held your duty to 
 me so light that you would meet this young man clandes- 
 tinely ; that you held your own reputation at so cheap a 
 rate. Forget that if you can. But how could you forget 
 what you owe to me to yourself in laying yourself open 
 to the charge of inveigling Lord Darlington into a mar- 
 riage with you ?" 
 
 u Who can have said such a thing ?" demanded Violet. 
 "Who can have said it? Do you know what has hap- 
 pened while you were meeting your lover ?" 
 "I know that Guy's mother has been here." 
 "Guy! Use no such familiarity. Yes, Lady Darling- 
 ton has been here, to warn me that she will not have her 
 son marry you ; that she will not permit him to form such 
 a misalliance. Misalliance ! do you hear ? To me, who.se 
 blood was noble five centuries before her beggarly ple- 
 beian ancestor knew his father's name. I tell you, girl, I 
 have suffered such an insult this day as I shall never for- 
 get, and all through you and your lack of proper modesty." 
 " I am sorry, papa, but I did not mean to deceive you. I 
 met Guy Lord Darlington accidentally, and loved him. 
 He loved me, and told me so, asking me to be his wife." 
 
 " His wife ! Well, there is an end of that. I will write 
 to him this very day, and you shall inclose a note releasing 
 him from any engagement he has made with you. It 
 shall never be said the Melville Lisle\s daughter obtained 
 a husband by intrigue. Go ! write the note now, and let 
 it be brief and formal." 
 
 " But, papa, he does not wish to be released, and I love 
 him." 
 
 "Not a word. Do as I bid you. It is the only way ID 
 which you can recover my respect." 
 
 "Papa," said Violet, her face white with the emotion of 
 the moment, " I cannot write as you bid me. I love Guy, 
 and I have promised to be his wife." 
 
 "You refuse ! Do you dare to disobey me?" 
 "I do not wish to disobey you, papa. Oh, papa, dear, 
 listen to me for a moment. Do not ask me to wreck my 
 happiness for life for a mere whim for the gratification, 
 of a foolish pride. You do not know Guy. If you didl 
 you would gladly accept him as a son. He will win hisn 
 mother to see it as he sees it, and then we should be so 
 happy." 
 
 uld have listened to her any* 
 
PARENTS AND CHILDREN. & 
 
 how, out after her words about his pride and his whim he 
 was only more furiously angry. 
 
 lk Let us have no more words about it," he said. " Go to 
 vour room, and do as I bid you. Write that note, and 
 never again either look at or speak to him. You shall 
 not I say you shall not drag the name of Lisle in the 
 mud." 
 
 " J cannot write that note, papa." 
 
 " I SAY YOU SHALL NOT DRAG THE NAME LISLE IN THE MUD !" 
 
 u Go to your room, shameless girl !" thundered Melville 
 Lisle, and Violet left him with indignation in her heart. 
 
 Rendered more than ever furious by the opposition of a 
 daughter whose hidden strength of character he had no 
 conception of, Melville Lisle sat down at his desk, deter- 
 mined to write a letter to Lord Darlington that should at 
 onro forever disabuse him of fche thought that Violet Lisle 
 i-ould. ever be his wife. 
 
44 PARENTS AND CHILDREN. 
 
 It was not easy to be satisfied in such a case, for before 
 everything he was determined to put his own dignity and 
 pride ; and however angry he might be with Violet and 
 Goody he could not permit a descendant of the Lisles to 
 do a thing that could ever be called in question. 
 
 So he wrote and tore up sheet after sheet, as lacking 
 in one or more of the essentials to a letter from Melville 
 Lisle, until at last he had produced an epistle, which he 
 believed might be put to any test and come forth triumph- 
 ant. In all his vain fretting there had not once intruded 
 a thought of the happiness of his daughter. It was all 
 Melville Lisle. 
 
 He had given up the intention of compelling Violet to 
 write a renunciation, for it had occurred to him that it 
 would be a more dignified course to ignore even any sus- 
 picion of right on her part to any voice in the matter. 
 Melville Lisle was the one person injured, Melville Lisle 
 was the arbiter of her fate, and he alone needed to speak. 
 
 A fc the castle Lady Darlington was as yet the only per 
 son distu) bed by the events of the afternoon. A sense of 
 humiliation and complete defeat rankled in her heart, 
 even though she now felt safe as to Guy. She would not 
 tell him that she. had been to see Mr. Lisle, though she did 
 not doubt that he would learn of it in some way. 
 
 He did, just before dinner, when Mr. Lisle's letter was 
 handed to him by a footman, who said it had been brought 
 by a village lad, who said there was no answer. 
 
 Guy opened it wonderingly, but with a light heart, for 
 it did not matter to him now if the whole world opposed. 
 He had Violet's promise to elope and be his wife. He 
 had no suspicion, however, of what was in the letter, and 
 nobody was further from his thoughts than Melville Lisle. 
 
 He had come down from his room, and stood in the hall 
 as he read the letter, Lady Darlington watching him with 
 a feeling that the letter was from -Melville Lisle. She saw 
 his brow knit as he read ; she saw him re-read the letter. 
 That was all. There was no sign of distress or of anger. 
 He shrugged his shoulders almost imperceptibly, and 
 entered the drawing-room. 
 
 She felt relieved. But if she had known what thoughts 
 had been sent flying through Guy's brain by that perfect 
 letter of Melville Lisle she would have eaten no dinner. 
 Guy did not eat a great deal, but he was so full of jests 
 and merry talk that no one noticed that he ate so lictle. 
 
 After the long, ceremonious meal was over Guy made 
 an excuse for leaving the guests, and went to his room, 
 
PAfiEZTH AXD CHILDREN. 
 
 where he passed some time in an occupation very 
 Melville Lisle's before dinner. He wrote several letters 
 before he could settle upon one to suit him. That letter 
 he directed to his mother, and put on his writing-table. 
 His valet he dismissed for the night, and then dressed 
 himself for a journey, and left the castle. 
 He did not order a carriage, but had a horse saddled, 
 
 LADY DARLINGTON SAW HIS BROW KNIT AS HE READ AND 
 RE-READ THE LETTER. 
 
 and rode out of the yard on it. He rode quietly a,t first, 
 and then broke into a gallop and went toward the village. 
 
 % 'It will seem sudden," he said to himself, " but I think 
 she will be willing." 
 
 Lady Darlington meantime knew her son had taken a 
 horse and left the castle, but she only smiled ana said to 
 herself : 
 
46 A HEROIC REMEDY. 
 
 "I think he will not enjoy his visit to the descendant of 
 the Lisles any more than I did." 
 She thought he was going to plead with Melville Lisle. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A HEROIC REMEDY. 
 
 The evening meal at the cottage it had been a very un- 
 comfortable one was over. Melville Lisle was in his 
 library, endeavoring to forget the occurrences of the day 
 in his great work on Diaphragmatic Propulsion, Violet 
 had retired to her own little room, and Goody White was, 
 in the kitchen, discussing, with the dishes she was wash- 
 ing, the difference between aristocratic and plebeian love 
 making. 
 
 Another view of the same idea was occupying Violet's 
 thoughts, as she sat by her one window, looking out at the 
 stars as they one by one crept up to the dark canopy of 
 heaven and peeped through. Why should Lady Darling- 
 ton object to her marrying Guy because she was poorer 
 than he ? And why should her father object because Guy 
 was richer than she? for, after all, those seemed to be the 
 only reasons. 
 
 At least she could not see that there were any others 
 outside of her father's wounded pride, and it had been 
 that very pride of his that she had considered most of all. 
 When she had consented to an elopement with Guy hor 
 chief reason had truly been that Guy wished it, but her 
 second reason was that she felt that her father would for- 
 give anything to Lady Darlington. She had never 
 counted on his affection, for he had taught her never to 
 think of that ; but she had believed she could count on his 
 pride, and now even that was in arms against her happi- 
 ness. 
 
 It was all so unreasonable to her, and think it over as 
 she would she always seemed to come to one conclusion 
 that Guy was the only one who thought of any one but 
 himself. He thought of her first, and found his own hap- 
 piness in hers. And this was not in her case merely the 
 self-interested fancy of i crossed girl. It was really nmrc 
 true than she knew. Lady Darlington and Melville Lisla 
 were playing with the two young people as if they had 
 been senseless pawns on a chess-board. 
 
 What wonder that all her thoughts centered on Guy 
 
A HEROIC hEMEDY. 4? 
 
 Turlington, and what he would have her do ! Her father 
 
 Iwid nevi'T had her confidence, had never wished it, and in 
 
 worldly ignorance it seemed to her that the man who 
 
 lover, and surely would be her husband --a warm, 
 
 py flush suffused her faee at the .mere thought was 
 
 the one. who should guide her. 
 
 And so she sat, with her elbow resting on the w r indow- 
 
 ledgo, and her dainty chin in her shell-like palm, thinking 
 
 <> and more of Guy, and less and less of the trouble 
 
 compassed them; listening, unheeding, to the 
 
 notorious click and rattle of'thfi dishes down stairs, 
 
 . smiling with the sxtf^t serenity that belonged rather 
 
 er childhood than to the womanhood she was entering 
 
 im in such a stormy way. 
 
 And down in the kitchen indignant old Goody White 
 
 3 risking the soundness of tho china in many an un- 
 
 essary fling, each risk representing her emphasized 
 
 opinion of a man who would interpose between two 
 
 lovers, particularly when the one of them she was most 
 
 interested in was to gain so much ; for even old Goody, to 
 
 whom Violet was the dearest thing in the world, saw the 
 
 worldly advantage most clearly. 
 
 Of course she believed that her Violet, with her beauty 
 jiud ancient lineage, was good enough for anybody outside 
 the royal family, find she was not entirely clear that the 
 Lisles were not better in the matter of old blood than even 
 the royal family. Then she chuckled gleefully as she 
 rested from rinsing the dishes, and repeated with all 
 possible unction that the Darlingtons came from a baker 
 man. 
 
 Still Melville Lisle, with all his wealth of blood, was a 
 poor man, and it was like flying in the face of Providence 
 for him to lift a hand to keep two loving hearts apart 
 especially when one of those loving hearts- brought 
 with it a title and a good income. Of cours3 it was a 
 ^roat thing to be a Lisle, but it was not by any means a 
 Had thing to be Lady Darlington ; and Goody, for one, 
 was for letting the poor young man have his own way. 
 
 Everybody said, too, that he was a very proper vomit; 
 gentleman, handsome, kind, and good-tempered. She juso 
 wished she had something to say about it. If she would 
 not put Violet's hand in his and say, u Take her, and 
 Heaven bless you both !" 
 
 : that I would,' 1 ' muttered Goody, taking up a pile 
 of <; rvirry thorn to the cupboard. " And what a 
 
 Lady Darlington she would make, to be sure ! A 
 
48 A HEROIC REMEDY. 
 
 beautifuler they could not find, no, not at the court itself, 
 if I do say it. Mer'*y me ! what's that?" 
 
 She pushed the dishes on the shelf and listened. Surely 
 a low knock at the kitchen door. Now, who could it be 
 coming to see her at that time o' night? And Goody 
 stopped at the cupboard to think it out instead of going to 
 the door. But whoever it was might be modest enough to 
 knock softly, and yet not be over patient, for while Goody 
 was still wondering who it could be there came another 
 knock. 
 
 Then she opened the door, and was about to exclaim 
 aloud at the sight of a tall young man standing there, but 
 the young man laid his finger on his lips and said " Sh-h !" 
 and smiled, and so Goody retreated into the room and 
 stood ready to flee if need were. 
 
 " I know you must be Goody While," said the young 
 man, so pleasantly that Goody answered in the same low 
 tone that he used. 
 
 "So they call me that have the right. Mrs. " 
 
 " It was Violet taught me to call you so," said the young 
 man. 
 
 Goody started with a sudden thought, and stepped 
 nearer, that she might have a better look at her visitor. 
 He smiled and took a step irside* 
 
 " Body o' me ! I do believe it's Lord Darlington." 
 
 He nodded his head and smiled. 
 
 "You know all about it, don't you, Goody? And you 
 are our friend, I am sure," he said. 
 
 "A very pleasant spoken young gentleman as ever 
 was," thought Goody, and she answered him : 
 
 " I nursed Miss Violet from a baby, your lordship, and 
 the very first blessed word she ever spoke and that not 
 so her own father could understand, even if he'd cared to, 
 which I must say he didn't, bein' taken up with other 
 things always that word was 'Dood, 1 which she meant 
 for Goody, and the same I've always been to her. Her 
 friend I am and all that's her true friends, which I hope 
 your lordship are." 
 
 "So Violet has always told mo, Goody, and that is why 
 I come to you to-night, when T think you can help us 
 both." 
 
 "And help she needs, poor lamb !" 
 
 "Well, I'm sure, Goody, that you and I will do any- 
 thing in this world to make her happv. She has told me 
 so much about you that when I found how crooked every- 
 thing was going I made up my mind to come to you. 
 
A HAR01C REMEDY. 49 
 
 You knew her father had written to me to say that Violet 
 released me from my engagement to her, and did not wish 
 ever to see or speak with me again?" 
 
 " Nay, I did not know that, but a wicked story it is, to 
 be sure, for I heard Miss Vi'let, with my own ears her 
 voice bein' raised a little in consequence o' her feelin's 
 bein' worked up," explained the good woman, recalling 
 how she had happened to hear. "An' she said right out 
 plain, 'I love him an' promised to marry him,' which if it 
 was my last word I would say she was a blessed martyr." 
 
 "Then you will help us, won't you, Goody?'' 
 
 " Only tell me how, your lordship. " 
 
 "Bring Violet here, that I may say a few words to her." 
 
 "So I will, for he can't no more than kill me for it," and 
 as if killing was too much a trifle to consider a second 
 time Goody went softly out of the room without another 
 word. 
 
 Then Guy, standing there, could hear the movement of 
 feet over his head, and a few minutes later Violet, with 
 radiant face, was standing before him. 
 
 " Oh, Guy ! 1 know now why I was not more unhappy. 
 My heart knew you would come to me. You know all 
 about it, then ?" 
 
 k Yes, my darling, my mother has been here to tell your 
 father that I must not marry you, and your father has 
 written to me, saying a number of things, all of which 
 only mean that he will not let you marry me. " 
 
 4 'But you seem happy, Guy!" 
 
 "Well, for that matter, so do you," laughed Guy. 
 
 "But that is because I am here," said Violet, looking up 
 from his breast. 
 
 " And do you think that is not also enough reason for 
 my happiness? But there is another reason, dear. I 
 knew you would not be affected by what had happened. 
 I know my mother, and I know Miat I could not make her 
 happier than by marrying you. She will not believe it 
 now ; but she will afterward. As for your father, dear, 
 what else could he do than to say you must not marry me 
 after mother had come to him ? But I am sure he will be 
 glad when it is done, and cannot be laid to his charge." 
 
 Violet was ready enough to accept anything Guy might 
 say about his mother : but she knew her father better. 
 She shook her head. 
 
 "If I take you, Guy, I must give up papa." 
 
 "And yet you would b willing, my darling?" 
 
 "Is it wrong, Guy, to love you the better?" 
 
50 
 
 A flKKOW 
 
 "How can it be ? Is it not said that the wife shall leave 
 father and mother to cling to her husband ? And are we 
 not already pledged to each other before Heaven ?" 
 
 She clung to him without answering. It was so sw<-.vo 
 to have him love her so ; and yet down in her heart there 
 was something she could not help hearing, saying to her 
 that it was wrong to defy their parents. But, after ail, 
 
 "OH, GUY ! MY HEART KNEW YOU WOULD COME TO ME !" 
 
 the strongest feeling was her love for Guy, and if he said 
 do this it should be done. If only it were best for him. 
 
 "You are silent, darling," he said, gently. 
 
 " I was thinking, Guy. I have a feeling that it may not 
 be quite right proper I mean perhaps but I can hush 
 that feeling and do what you wish me ; but, Guy, darling, 
 suppose it should be wrong and should lead somehow to 
 your unhappiness. I do not mind for myself. I would 
 
A HEROIC REMEDY. 
 
 be glad to suffer unhappiness for you, but I could not bear 
 iiink that you were unhappy and I the cause." 
 
 ''Dear little 'Violet ! How like you that is. No. I, too, 
 have thought it out. I have tried to see if it could bring 
 unhappiiiess to you in any way ; but all I could see wa?s 
 that I was not at all worthy of you, and that that might 
 make you unhappy some time ' 
 
 " When I found it out," she interjected, with a soft lit- 
 tle laugh of incredulity. 
 
 He pressed his lips to her forehead, and stroked her 
 hair. 
 
 " Of course you do not believe it, and I suppose I am 
 very glad of it ; but it is so. I am not worthy of you, 
 darling ; but I do think I would give you up this moment, 
 and let you think me base even, if it would conduce to 
 your happiness. I would give you up, though I know, as 
 I say it, that it would ruin my life to do it. You believe 
 that, don't you, darling?" 
 
 "Yes, Guy," and she wondered, as she said it, if she 
 could be as noble as that. 
 
 "Then, darling," went 011 Guy, "let us take the risk. 
 See ; it is quite certain that it will make no real difference 
 to my mother or your father ; but it w r ill make all the 
 difference to you and me. We love each other, and there 
 is no good reason why we should not marry they only 
 say, * You must not. ' Why, even if we were to give up 
 our own happiness what would it benefit them ? I would 
 marry no one else but you. Would you marry any one 
 but me?" 
 
 "I could not." 
 
 " Then, see ! We should all be unhappy in that case. 
 But if you and I make each other happy then they will be 
 reconciled in time." 
 
 "It is so easy to think as you do, Guy. I will do as 
 you say, dear, for I trust you more than I do myself." 
 
 "May Heaven bless you, my darling, and guide me to 
 do. that which is best for you. Let us go away to-night." 
 
 "To-night! Oh, Guy!" 
 
 "It is sudden, darling ; but if it is to be some time why 
 not now ? It -rvill save all the wretchedness of opposition 
 that is sure to be our lot if we wait for it. I have made 
 all arrangements to go. We will walk over to the station, 
 take the ten o'clock train to London, have a, delightful 
 ride together, and to-morrow morning make you Lady 
 T>arlington, and me the happiest man in all the world." 
 
 She l ;i> at him and smiled, but she shrank from 
 
52 ^A PURSUIT. 
 
 taking such a step ; it seemed like taking a leap over the 
 edge of a precipice, for in all her life she had never been 
 fifteen miles away from Penarth. And yet it seemed to 
 her that if Guy had stood oy her side on the edge of a 
 veritable precipice, and had said, u Let us step over 
 together," she would have done it. 
 
 "Will you do it, darling?" he asked. 
 
 If he had not bent his head until his cheek rested on 
 hers ha could not have heard the faintly whispered "Yes." 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 IN PURSUIT. 
 
 At the castle Lady Darlington endeavored, with some 
 success, to make her guests forget the absence of Guy. 
 It was singular that she should have felt so certain chat 
 Guy would obtain no sympathy from Melville Lisle ; but 
 in truth she was able to do complete justice to a character 
 like that of the poor aristocrat. 
 
 It was only toward the daughter that she felt any 
 anger ; toward the father she found herself leaning with a 
 growing admiration. It pleased her to see the precious 
 possession of birth so highly prized, and she found herself 
 planning that when Guy was safely married to Sibyl she 
 would take up the Lisles, or and she actually smiled at 
 the thought she would let Melville Lisle take her up. 
 At any rate, he was a congenial spirit, and worthy of a 
 better fate than had fallen to his lot. 
 
 She listened during the evening for the ring of the hoofs 
 on the paved court-yard which should announce the re- 
 turn of her son from the defeat she knew he would experi- 
 ence, and as the time went by, and she was disappointed, 
 she became uneasy. But at last, somewhere near ten 
 o'clock, she heard the sound of hoofs clattering over the 
 stones, and then waited expectantly for Guy to come in, 
 something like pity for him stirring her heart. 
 
 He did not come, however, and she felt that it had been 
 a hard blow for him. He had probably gone to his rooms 
 at once, unable, perhaps, to face the guests in the drawing- 
 room. Poor boy ! as he grew to know the world better he 
 would have more fortitude to bear a disappointment such 
 as this. And with this she dismissed the subject from 
 her mind, and gave her whole attention to her guests un- 
 til she retired, when it occurred to her again, and she 
 said, casually, to her maid i 
 
IN PURSUIT, $8 
 
 " Lord Darlington went to his rooms at once OH return- 
 ing, did he not, Haskins ?" 
 
 "I don't think he's returned, your ladyship." 
 
 "Oh, yes, I heard his horse about ten o'clock." 
 
 " It was one of the village boys brought that, my lady, 
 I am quite sure. I suppose he brought a message, too." 
 
 Lady Darlington started up in alarm, but instantly com- 
 posed herself, and said, in her quietest tone : 
 
 " The groom must have forgotten the message. Send 
 no, go yourself, Haskins, and find out about it." 
 
 So Haskins, with an inkling that something was wrong 
 at the castle, hastened out to the stables and roused one 
 of the grooms to inquire about the horse and the message. 
 
 u There weren't no message," said the groom, sulky at 
 being roused from a sound sleep. 
 
 u You didn't take the horse and let the boy go without a 
 word, did you ?" demanded Haskins, with the sharpness 
 of one who is near enough to the throne to assume some 
 authority. 
 
 " I ain't a fool, am I ?" growled the groom. 
 
 "I am not so sure about that," said Haskins, amiably. 
 
 "What did the boy say ?" 
 
 " 'Lord Darlington's hoss,' said he. 'How come you by 
 it?' says I. His lordship give it to me to bring home,' 
 said he. 'What message?' says I. 'None exceptin' it's 
 all right,' said he. An' that's all there was of it." 
 
 And with this circumstantial account of the conversa- 
 tion the groom looked triumphant. 
 
 "You ninny!" exclaimed Haskins, scornfully. "No 
 message, excepting it's all right. What is that but a 
 message, I'd like to know ?" and leaving the man crushed 
 and bewildered, she returned to her mistress and made 
 her report. 
 
 Lady Darlington listened with vague alarm, and said, 
 quickly : 
 
 " See Robert, and ascertain if his master has returned 
 yet." 
 
 Haskins returned after a considerable absence. 
 
 ** Robert has gone to Houghton, my lady. Lord Dar- 
 lington said he would not need him to-night." 
 
 Quickly as a flash it came into Lady Darlington's mind 
 that that could only mean that Guy had not intended to 
 return home. 
 
 "See if Lord Darlington has come home. Go to his 
 rooms yourself." 
 
 "I have been* my lady, and knocked, but did not receive 
 
64 IN PURSUIT. 
 
 any answer. I did not like to go in without your order. '~ 
 
 Lady Darlington was greatly disturbed, but she con 
 trolled herself, an<L said, composedly : 
 
 " I will go to his room. He may have had some sudden 
 call to London, and gone without disturbing me. There 
 may be a note for me." 
 
 She said this to prepare the way for any freak of his- 
 lordship's. It was quite conceivable that the boy in his 
 passion had gone off to the city to plunge into dissipation. 
 That would not have worried her ; for she was a woman of 
 the world, and could have found excuses, enough for that 
 sort of thing. She hurried to his rooms with a fear in her 
 heart that she would not give words to. 
 
 The bed was empty, and had not been occupied, the 
 rooms were silent with a sort of desolation. In the dress- 
 ing-room were signs of a hurried sorting of clothing, and 
 on the table was a letter. A glance showed that it was 
 addressed to her, and she tore it open and read it as she 
 stood. 
 
 She read it to the last word, then, for the first time, 
 showed the agony it had caused her. She crushed the 
 sheet of paper in her hand, and sank back into a chair,, 
 crying, as any human mother would have done : 
 
 "Oh, Guy, Guy!" 
 
 The note was not a long one, but it told everything the 
 mother had dreaded. 
 
 "DEAR MOTHER'" it ran, "I received a letter this evening from Mr. 
 Jnsle, telling me of your visit to him, of his irrevocable refusal of my 
 suit for his daughter's hand, and of her concurrence with his decision.. 
 He said Violet released me from a pledge which had been made with- 
 out the concent of either parent, and that she wished never to see mo 
 again. 
 
 "All this seems to me so unreasonable on your part and on his, that 
 I have determined to take such steps as will prove that Violet and T 
 are not to be molded like senseless putty, nor to be blown about like 
 feathers in the wind. By the time you receive this, Violet and I will 
 be married. 
 
 "I am more sorry than you, in your first anger, will be likely to be- 
 lieve, and I shall look forward with the keenest solicitude for the word 
 from you which will say that you are ready to receive my wife and 
 share" with her the great affection which has always been mine. Lov- 
 ingly your son, GUY." 
 
 It was the mother who had received the first blow, and 
 it had cut her to the heart to know that her son had done 
 *his thing with no further attempt to win her willingin 
 out as she thought of it her anger grew, and the feeling 
 that Guy had made so little of her authority rankled deep 
 
IN PURSUIT. 55 
 
 in her breast. The woman of the world overpowered the 
 mother, and she began to think if there could be no way 
 o! escaping what she was pleased to cajl "this disgrace." 
 
 Married ! Why, they could not be married until the 
 morrow. The Marquis of Coldenham might suggest some- 
 thing to prevent the marriage. She started up quickly 
 and sought the smoking-room, where it was quite prob- 
 able she would find the marquis yawning away the time 
 over his cigar. 
 
 - The marquis was not one ever to trouble himself about 
 the affairs of others, but there were several things that 
 conspired just then to make him very willing to do service 
 for the Countess of Darlington. In the first place it was 
 very dull at the castle for him, and any excitement could 
 only be a relief ; he was much more concerned in the mar- 
 riage of his daughter to Guy than Lady Darlington had 
 any notion of, and he was desirous that the marriage, or 
 at least the announcement of the betrothal, should soon 
 come. 
 
 He turned his head at the sound of Lady Darlington's 
 footsteps, and when he saw who it was drew himself up 
 from his lounging attitude and would have uttered some 
 commonplaces^Df conventionality, when he checked him 
 self as he caught sight of the expression of her pale face 
 
 " Something has distressed you, Lady Darlington," he 
 exclaimed, with real interest, for his thoughts sprang at 
 once to Guy as the cause. 
 
 "Something, indeed. Read this letter, marquis." 
 
 He took the letter from her and read it at first hur- < 
 riedly, and then over again more carefully. Then he ' 
 looked up at the countess, the hard set of his lips showing 
 how much he was affected by what he had read. 
 
 " What are you going to do about it?" he asked. 
 
 " Anything, everything. I have come to you for help, 
 marquis. Advise me." 
 
 " You would interfere to prevent the marriage ?" 
 
 "If it be not too late. There is nothing rothing I 
 would not do to prevent this dreadful thing." 
 
 The marquis mused. 
 
 " The marriage cannot take place until to-morrow. Guy 
 must have counted on your not receiving this until the 
 morning. When does the next train leave here for 
 London ?" 
 
 "Not until five o'clock in the morning." 
 
 "That would get me there at seven. Early enough, go 
 
p IN PURSUJT 
 
 far as that is concerned. Tho trouble would be to find 
 khem." 
 
 "You could telegraph to have the marriage stopped," 
 said the countess, with a sort of fury at the thought of 
 being outwitted, as she supposed, by the girl who had 
 taken her son from her. 
 
 "That would never do, 1 ' said the more cool-headed man. 
 " Guy would only be angry, ana insist. What could you 
 
 ''WHAT DO YOU SUGGEST? OH, MARQUIS, SAVE MY SON!'' 
 
 do, then ? The girl is probably of age, and they would be 
 married in spite of you. Permit me to suggest that some 
 subtlety must be practiced in this instance." 
 
 "What, do you suggest? Oh, marquis, save my son !" 
 "I will do \vh<ft I can, believe me. I will act as if it 
 were rny own case. The father of this girl I are you 
 satisfied chat he knows nothing of this ?" 
 
IN PURSUIT. 67 
 
 "I had thought so, but now now I do not know what 
 to think." 
 
 The marquis, now that he was roused, was full of 
 energy. He had said that he would act as if it were hie 
 own case. It was very much his case, in fact, and he was 
 disposed to sacrifice a great deal of energy and comfort to 
 prevent the marriage that would not only make Lady 
 Darlington unhappy, but, what was of more consequence 
 to him, would let loose on him the money-lenders, who 
 were only holding off because of the prospect that his 
 daughter might become Lady Darlington. 
 
 " How far may I go in the matter ?" he asked. 
 
 "Any lengths. If Guy should do this thing I will disin- 
 herit him and disown him." 
 
 " And you will be willing to pa^' something for a re- 
 lease?" 
 
 ' * Anything anything. " 
 
 " Say five thousand pounds ? That will seem a great 
 deal of money to a girl of her sort." 
 
 "Ten thousand, if you will. Save Guy. I don't care 
 what it costs. Save him !" 
 
 " I will save him if I can. Depend upon me to do all 
 that lies in my power, Lady Darlington. I think I will 
 go now to see this man Lisle. I do not hope for much 
 from him, but I cannot get away until five o'clock, and I 
 may learn something. Will you have a carriage ordered 
 for me ?" 
 
 Less than an hour later the door of the cottage was 
 opened to him by Melville Lisle himself. He had not yet 
 retired, and a loud summons at that hour of the night 
 excused the unseemliness of the act. Even a Lisle might 
 open a door at that hour. The marquis, with Lady Dar- 
 lington's description of the man in his mind, had no diffi- 
 culty in recognizing him. He bowed to him as he would 
 have done to the Earl of Granthorpe. 
 
 "Have I the honor," he said, "of addressing Mr. Lislg?" 
 
 "You have." 
 
 "Permit me to introduce myself. I am the Marquis of 
 Coldenham. I know the earl, your cousin, very well, and 
 I am delighted to meet you, although the circumstances 
 are rather peculiar for a first meeting. I come on the 
 part of Lady Darlingt n." 
 
 Even Melville Lisle's pride was satisfied with the tone 
 and manner of the marquis, and though inwardly wonder- 
 ing at the nature of his errand he asked him with stately 
 courtesy to enter. The marquis did sorand having read 
 
IN PURSUIT. 
 
 of 
 
 his man so well was too acute to make the mistake 
 beating about the bush. 
 
 u My errand to you at this unusual hour is a peculiar 
 one, Mr. Lisle, and I think that between .us, as men of the 
 world, the frankest statement of it will be the most ac- 
 ceptable. I represent a distressed mother, and I trust 
 you will bear with me for that reason. Her son, Lord 
 Darlington, has left home suddenly. A letter found in 
 
 "FROM THIS MOMENT MY DAUGHTER is DEAD TO ME !" 
 
 his dressing-room says he has eloped with y our daughter. 
 I cannot believe it, sir, but it seemed due to you to in- 
 form you of it." 
 
 Melville had changed color, and even started, but he had 
 not attempted to interrupt his visitor. When the mar- 
 quis had ceased to speak he said, coldly, but with perfect 
 courtesy : 
 
IN PURSUIT. 59 
 
 "It is impossible that my daughter can have done as 
 Lord Darlington says, but it is only right that Lady Dar- 
 lington's solicitude for her should receive the courtesy of 
 disproof. I will speak to my daughter. Pardon me for a 
 lew moments." 
 
 He was gone more than a few moments, and when he 
 returned his face was hard and set. He held an open let- 
 ter in his hand. 
 
 "Will you thank Lady Darlington for me," he said, 
 without a tremor in his voice, though it was low and 
 harsh, " and say that a letter from my daughter confirms 
 the report you bring me. Will you be good enough to say 
 also that I reject all responsibility for her act, and that 
 from this moment the girl is dead to me, whether as the 
 wife or companion of Lord Darlington." 
 
 Even the Marquis of Coldenham could find nothing to 
 say to this stern message, and he went away convinced, 
 as Lady Darlington had been, that there had been no con- 
 nivance on his part, and that it would be impossible to 
 learn anything from him. He bowed low and left him. 
 
 The five o'clock train carried him to London, but when 
 he stepped out of the car he was as much at a loss to know 
 where to go as he could well be. As he stood hesitating 
 a sleepy-looking porter caught his eye, and stepped up to 
 him inquiringly. 
 
 " Anythink I can do, sir ?" 
 
 The marquis was about to wave him haughtily off. 
 when a thought flashed through his brain. 
 
 14 Were you on duty when the midnight express ar 
 rived ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "I'm looking for a friend of mine, who came on that 
 train, and I forget what hotel he was to put up at. He 
 had a lady with him. He is a young man, tall, dark, and 
 fine-looking. Do you remember them?" and he slipped 
 half a sovereign into the man's hand. 
 
 " Was the lady closely vailed, sir, and about mejum 
 height?" 
 
 "Yes," said the marquis, on a venture. "Can you help 
 roe to find where they went? It'll be worth another half 
 sovereign." 
 
 " I can't, sir, but I know the cabby as took 'em, an' he'll 
 tell you. He's waitin' on the stand now, sir." 
 
 The marquis followed him, though not certain that he 
 was on the right tra<'V ;y } 
 
GO 
 
 IN PURSUIT, 
 
 gave him hope, for the man's description of Guy was 
 
 perfect. 
 
 "Take me to the hotel," he said. 
 
 "Which one, sir? Where the gent went, or the lady?" 
 
 This was better than the marquis had hoped. It was 
 
 only Violet he wished to see, and it began to look as if he 
 
 could accomplish that. He did not seem to hesitate, but 
 
 answered, carelessly : 
 
 THE FIGURE TURNED, AND HE WAS FACE TO FACE WITH THE 
 MOST BEAUTIFUL CREATURE HE EVER SAW. 
 
 u To the hotel the lady went to, for the gentleman will 
 surely be there the first thing, and I might miss him." 
 
 The man dropped him at the hotel, a small but very 
 respectable one in a quiet part of the city, and the mar- 
 quis rang the bell, wondering if his luck had been good 
 only in seeming. 
 
PUT TO THE TW1. Cl 
 
 Is Miss Violet Lisle in?' 1 he asked, in as matter-or- 
 .(3 a way as he could. 
 
 '* Yes, sir, she is," answered the pert housemaid. "Who 
 shall I say r 
 
 " Is she up yet ?" 
 
 a She's in the parlor, sir." 
 
 "Then you needn't announce me. I will go right up." 
 
 He still felt that there might be some mistake, but when 
 he reached the parlor and saw a lonely figure looking out 
 of the window where only thick fog could be seen, he felt 
 quite sure. 
 
 "Miss Lisle," he said. 
 
 The figure turned, and he was face to face with th? 
 most beautiful creature he had ever looked at. His first 
 thought was that he could understand Guy's infatuation 
 now. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 PUT TO THE TEST. 
 
 It was the surpassing beauty of the young creature that 
 stood before him that first struck Lord Coldenham, but as 
 he looked at her he became conscious of the patrician re- 
 finement of her features and the unstudied dignity of her 
 manner, and it came over him as a revelation that here 
 was the fit mate for the highest peer in the realm. And 
 so great was the charm or winsomeness of her fair, in 
 nocent young face, lighted up as it then was by an expres- 
 sion of wondering inquiry, that even his calloused heart 
 was touched, and he felt as the hunter often feels when 
 the unsuspicious fawn looks up at him from fche dead 
 mother's side as if he could not do the thing he had 
 come to do. But, as the hunter steels his heart and 
 plunges the knife into the palpitating side of his quarry, 
 so did the man of the world set himself to his task. 
 
 If he had been disinterested he might have brought 
 himself to let matters go on as they had begun ; but there 
 was too much at stake for him to let him pause, and he 
 studied her to decide the best way to accomplish his 
 object. 
 
 " Did you speak to me, sir ?" asked Violet, in her softly 
 modulated voice. 
 
 "If you are Miss Violet Lisle, yes." 
 
 " That is my name ; yes, sir." 
 
62 PUT TO THE TEST. 
 
 "I suppose," said Lord Coldenham, with his usual 
 courtesy, " it will be best for me to speak frankly to you, 
 Miss Lisle." 
 
 A frightened expression sprang into Violet's blue eyes, 
 and her cheeks paled. 
 
 " Nothing has happened to " 
 
 She stopped, and looked piteously at him. 
 
 "To Guy?" he said, gently,, for it was not in his nature 
 to be unnecessarily cruel to this fair flower. "No ; he is 
 well. But I do not come from Guy ; 1 come for him." 
 
 " For him ?" repeated Violet, wonderingly. 
 
 "Yes for him, and for you." 
 
 "I do not understand you, sir ; and " she hesitated, 
 
 for fear of giving offense " and I do not know you. " 
 
 "'Pardon me for forgetting," he said, in his most cour- 
 teous manner. " I am the Marquis of Coldenham. You 
 may have heard Guy speak of me." 
 
 " Oh, yes, sir ; Guy has often spoken of you, and of 
 your daughter," she answered, smiling sweetly, but with 
 a faint frown that denoted that she was puzzled* 
 
 Lord Coldenham bit his lip. How much had Guy said 
 of Sibyl ? Did this girl know that his daughter hcd been 
 set aside for her ? Certainly there was nothing to indicate 
 such a knowledge in her expression, and he could see that 
 she was altogether too guileless to be dealing in innuendo. 
 
 ''Can you not guess," he a^ked, after an imperceptible 
 pause, " why I am here ?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "I have come to ask you to help me save Guy." 
 
 " Save Guy !" 
 
 " Yes, my dear young lady, to save Guy to save him 
 from himself." 
 
 She looked at him with wide-open eyes, into which the 
 pitiful look of fear had crept again. 
 
 "I do not understand you, sir," she said, slowly, shak- 
 ing her head. 
 
 " I might have said, to save you, too, for if this mar- 
 riage takes place you will suffer as well as he. " 
 
 A softly spoken, "Oh!" issued from her lips, and she 
 drew herself up with a pride that reminded Lord Colden- 
 ham of her father. 
 
 " You understand me now ?" he said. 
 
 " Yes, I understand you, and I must ask you to discue* 
 this with Guy," she said, with a quiet dignity. "I hop* 
 you will excuse me if I leave you. Guy will be herr 
 presently. " 
 
PUT TO THE TEST. 63 
 
 She bowed, and would have withdrawn, but he stopped 
 her. 
 
 " 1 beg of you do not go until you have heard me. It is 
 to you, not to Guy, that I must appeal. Guy would not 
 u to me he would not listen to his mother, who now 
 ill because of this act of his." 
 
 w 'ill !" repeated Violet, in a low voice. 
 
 '' Yes, ill, and I fear it will kill her if this marriage 
 takes place. Put yourself in her place." 
 
 ki In her place ! I think I should wish him to marry 
 wheie he loved and was loved. I think when she knows 
 how I love Guy she will be satisfied. Guy says so." 
 
 The manner in which those three little words were 
 uttered told the astute man the strength of her devotion 
 to Guy. 
 
 " Guy says so," he repeated, with a sad smile. "Guy is 
 self-blinded. She will never accept you as his wife, and 
 it will kill her." 
 
 Violet twisted her little hands together in acute distress. 
 
 " It does not seem possible, and Guy says she will learn 
 to love me, too, I should try so hard to make her love 
 me. Don't you think that when she knows that I do love 
 Guy she will feel better? And Guy loves me." 
 
 She looked at him so pleadingly that his heart almost 
 betrayed him, hard man as he was, but he felt that he 
 was gaining. Guy might come at any moment. He must 
 go on for his own sake. 
 
 u Yes," he said, "Guy loves you I can believe that it 
 would be impossible not to, but when the first glamour of 
 your beauty has worn off, and he remembers what he sac- 
 rificed for you then what ?" ' 
 
 "Sacrificed? what?" 
 
 " Has he not told you, then, that he will be disinherited 
 by his mother ? He has nothing, or almost nothing, of his 
 own. Not enough to support his title, and he is dependent 
 on his mother's fortune." 
 
 A faint little smile flitted over Violet's face. 
 
 " We do not care for money. That is nothing. We love 
 each other." 
 
 -Speak for yourself, my dear young lady," said Lord 
 
 Colaenham, with such an assumption of deep sadness as 
 
 would have been a credit to any actor ; - but do not think 
 
 you can judge for Guy. Remember that you have 
 
 n accustomed to poverty, while he has never known 
 
 anything else than affluence. For a while he will not 
 
64 J'UT TO THE TMST. 
 
 care, but by and by he will long for what he has been 
 accustomed to, and what can you do then ?" 
 
 "Love him, 1 ' answered the poor girl, with a simplicity 
 that was divine. 
 
 "And he will hate you," said Lord Coldenham, 
 solemnly. 
 
 " Oh, no no no !" cried Violet, vehemently. 
 
 "Yes, "said the man of iron, "he will remember the 
 mother he has lost through you, and the money. Do you 
 think, in your innocence, that he will be indifferent to 
 money because he has you. Remember your own father, 
 and see how poverty and privation have soured him and 
 made him sad and discontented ; and yet I do not doubt 
 that the time was when he was as bright, as gay, yes, as 
 handsome as Guy." 
 
 The poor child listened to him with a growing fear that 
 what he said might be true. She could not understand it, 
 could not believe it, but there was a sort of inexorable 
 logic in what he said that appealed to her in a way she 
 could nob escape from. 
 
 " What shall I do ?* she moaned. 
 
 "Think, too, of the mother broken-hearted, ill, dying 
 perhaps. Can you believe any happiness will follow a 
 marriage that will cause such sorrow." 
 
 "Oh, stop! in mercy stop ! How can I give up Guy 
 when I love him so ? How can I?" 
 
 "Ah," said Lord Coldenham, shaking his head, "better 
 to give him up now than to puffer the pangs by and by of 
 knowing that you have ruined his life. Think of that. 
 With a wife suited to him by wealth as well as by birth 
 and education, what is there that he cannot accomplish ? 
 What is there that he will not accomplish? He is gifted, 
 and he is ambitious, and he may take a foremost place in 
 the affairs of his country if the chance be open to him, 
 but bind him to inaction by an injudicious marriage, and 
 all the avenues to his ambition will be closed, and instead 
 of happiness there will be nothing for him but misery and 
 discontent." 
 
 "But I should help him, encourage him," pleaded 
 Violet. " 
 
 " Would it help him to impoverish him? Would it help 
 him to shut him away from the friends who would help 
 him? Would it help him to make a soured, discontented 
 man of him ?" 
 
 Violet clasped her hands and looked piteously at her 
 tormentor, but she did not speak, and he went on. 
 
PUT TO THE TEST. 65 
 
 v Are you seeking his happiness or your own?" 
 
 "His, 'his !" she murmured, fervently. 
 
 "Or is it true ?" he went on, as if she had not answered 
 him, "that you are marrying him for his station and the 
 wealth you hope will be his?" 
 
 "No one could believe that," she said, looking at him 
 with strained eyes. 
 
 " No one !" he repeated. u Every one will believe it, and 
 in time he will come to believe it. He will look back 
 upon what he might have been and done but for you, and 
 he will come to think that you cared only for your worldly 
 advantage in marrying him." 
 
 u Guy would never think that," she said, with a melan- 
 choly smile. 
 
 " You do not know what a man will think when he sees 
 the bright hopes of his young manhood wrecked on a 
 woman's selfish ambition. Remember you bring him 
 nothing but beauty, which will soon wither under the 
 misery of your life, and you make him forfeit his mother's 
 favor, perhaps her life, the means of living as he always 
 has lived, and the opportunity of gratifying the ambition 
 which a man of his abilities must have." 
 
 He spoke with an earnestness which was genuine 
 enough, for it was inspired by the fear that Guy would 
 come in at any moment, but she could not sound the 
 depths of his cruel nature and know that, and she was 
 deeply affected. 
 
 " If I thought that " she said, in a strained voice. 
 
 " My poor child !" he said, with a kindness that was not 
 at all affected, "it gives me pain to have to tell you these 
 things, but it is for your good, too, though I will frankly 
 confess that until I saw you I thought only of Guy. I 
 believed, as his mother believes, as every one will believe, 
 that you have entrapped him into this thing. And, oh, 
 think of the day when he, too, will think so ?" 
 
 " He never will, he never will !" sobbed Violet. 
 
 "Then, "said Lord Coldenham, sternly, "you will not 
 give him up? You will persist in killing his mother, in 
 ruining his life all that you may gratify a miserable 
 ambition to be Lady Darlington. Come, then ! Lady Dar- 
 lington was right. I had thought when I saw you that 
 you would be one to think of his happiness before your 
 own. I see I was mistaken. Let me appeal to that 
 selfishness. Give him up, and Lady Darlington will give 
 you five thousand pounds. Surely that will be compen- 
 sation enough." 
 
66 PUT TO THE TEST. 
 
 Violet's eyes flashed through her tears, and she waved ' 
 her hand, but she could not speak. He affected not to 
 understand her indignant gesture. 
 
 "Then take ten thousand pounds," he said. "With that 
 you could perhaps do even better." 
 
 k *Oh, Guy," she moaned, "why do you not come !" 
 
 He almost stamped his foot in his angry impatience, 
 and yet he could see that he was gaining his point. Oh, 
 how he hoped that Guy would only be detained until he 
 had persuaded her to leave. 
 
 " And this is your love !" he said, contemptuously. 
 " You are bartering his happiness against a larger sum 
 than I have offered you. What, then, is your price?" 
 
 "Oh, Heaven guide me !" wailed Violet, as if uncon- 
 scious of the other's presence. " What' shall I do ?" 
 
 "Come," he said, harshly, " name x your price. Oh, 
 that Guy could hear you bargaining thus !" 
 
 "Forbear your insults," she said to him, with a sudden 
 calmness. "I do not know whether you are rigM or 
 wrong, but I remember that Guy said he would give me 
 up for my happiness, and I can do as much for him." 
 
 Then her calmness gave out, and she broke down, and 
 burying her face in her hands sobbed piteously, as a child 
 might have done ; but the woman in her nature was de- 
 veloping in the agony and misery of the trial, and 
 presently she checked her sobs, and with a sad, pitiful 
 composure said : 
 
 "I do not know why Guy's mother should hate me so, 
 but I will do as she would have me, for Guy's sake. 
 Whnt is her wish?" 
 
 " She does not hate you, and I pity you from 
 
 "Spare me your pity," she interrupted, with a certain 
 sad scorn that echoed in his heart through many a re- 
 morseful day. "The victim does not look to the execu- 
 tioner for anything but the mercy of haste. Tell MIC what 
 I must do, and let me go before Guy shall come and melt 
 my resolution in the glow of his generous love. Oh, Guy, 
 my darling Guy ! will you ever know the love that m, 
 me do this thing?" 
 
 It seemed even to Lord Coldenham that he no lmiir"r 
 saw the child of the minute ago ; but he had no time to 
 waste in such a thought, and with a quickness t 
 showed he had prearranged his plans he answered : 
 
 u Without a final word from you Guy will not be; 
 that you have left him." 
 
PUT TO THE TMT. 
 
 1 am glad," she said, sadly, "that you are willing fccf 
 admit that much. What shall I do?" 
 
 " Write him a note, leaving it here for him." 
 
 " What shall I say ?" 
 
 She spoke calmly, but any one must have seen what she 
 was suffering. Her soul was on the rack. 
 
 "You must say something that will turn him from } 
 you," he replied, with a furtive look at her. "Say that \, 
 you have learned that he will forfeit his mother's wealth,. 
 and that without that you cannot marry him." 
 
 "No!" she cried, indignantly. "That would be in- 
 famous !" 
 
 "It would prove you to be in earnest," was the answer. 
 
 "Oh, Heaven !" cried the tortured creature, "is there no 
 way to his happiness but through my agony? Must I lose 
 him and the only thing else in the world that I care for 
 his love ?" 
 
 "If you seek his happiness you will not quarrel with 
 the means to it." 
 
 "Oh," she cried out, as if it had been forced from her 
 torn heart, "have you no pity? I will not write the in- 
 famous lie ! Write it if you will, and I will put my name 
 to it, and I pray Heaven it will not wreck his life. I can- 
 not see my way it is all darkness to me," and she covered 
 her face with her little hands. 
 
 Lord Coldenham waited for no further permission, but 
 sat down at a table on which were pen, ink, and paper, * 
 and began writing ; but his pen had hardly touched the 
 paper when he heard a noise at the street door. He 
 looked quickly up, and saw Violet listening with an eager 
 expression on her face. 
 
 "That may be Guy," he said, quickly. 
 
 " It is Guy !" she said, with a ring of joy in her voice. 
 
 "Remember your promise," he said. "Here! I have 
 not had time to write. Sign your name at the bottom of 
 this sheet and I will fill in the letter." 
 
 She hesitated, and there was a wild look of hope in her 
 eyes. 
 
 ^Think of Guy and his happiness ! Forget yourself ! n 
 he said, desperately. "Sign this quickly, and when he 
 comes be true to your promise !" 
 
 He had hardly hoped to effect anything by his appeal, 
 but a sudden look of despair chased every other expres- 
 sion from the beautiful face, and she sat in the chair he 
 had vacated and signed her name, breathing a prayer at 
 
68 DEALING THK 
 
 the same moment, as he could see by the convulsive 
 movement of her pale lips. 
 
 She stood up as she threw the pen down, and he could 
 see her looking at the door with such an expression of 
 Titter woe as the condemned soul might wear at the judg- 
 ment seat. 
 
 "You will be brave," he said to her. 
 
 "You must help me," she said. 
 
 u He will not believe me ; you must tell him that you 
 will not marry him. Think of him ! think of his mother !" 
 
 u No, I cannot meet him I will go away. You must 
 deal this blow. Oh, I love him love him, and I cannot 
 give him up ! Let me go away." 
 
 She took a step toward the door, but recoiled as she 
 heard a buoyant step on the stairs. She staggered back 
 a pace, and murmured : 
 
 " He is coming with love and happiness in his heart, 
 and I must stab him. Oh, Heaven ! what have I done 
 that this must fall to me ?" 
 
 Lord Coldenham was pale, but his lips were set. He 
 had hoped to accomplish his mission before the coming of 
 Guy. He hrd no wish to meet the young man, but with 
 so much at stake he could not shirk the encounter. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 DEALING THE BLOW. 
 
 No one had told Guy that anybody was with Vioiet, and 
 he had run up the stairs with bright anticipations of the 
 sweet face that would meet his longing eyes as he entered 
 the little parlo r in which he had said good -night to her. 
 
 Lord Coldenham stood in the shadow of the room, and 
 Guy did not see him at the first, but only Violet, who 
 stood in the middle of the room. 
 
 " My sweet one !" he cried, springing toward her, " have 
 I seemed long ? I could not make those prosaic folks un- 
 derstand how important it was that you and I should have 
 
 a license What ? Oh, I beg your pardon !" and, with 
 
 his arm already around the shrinking form of Violet, he 
 followed the direction of her glance. " Lord Coldenham !" 
 he exclaimed. 
 
 Tt needed no power of divination to tell him that the 
 visit of the nobleman boded no good to him, and he turned 
 with a quick, questioning glance to Violet, and then he 
 
DEALING THE BLOW. 69 
 
 realized that her shrinking was not due to the natural 
 shyness of a maiden in the presence of a stranger, but 
 was the result of another and deeper emotion. He looked 
 into her eyes, and before they fell before his he saw in 
 them an agony that caused him to turn almost with 
 fierceness to the marquis, saying, peremptorily : 
 
 u Lord Coldenham, what is your errand here?" 
 
 It has been said that the man of the world held Guy in 
 no littTe contempt for what he was pleased to call his 
 weakness meaning his lack of vices ; but at this moment 
 he saw something in the eyes of the younger man that 
 sent an uncomfortable thrill through him, and made him 
 realize that his task was even more unpleasant than he 
 had anticipated. 
 
 "I am here to do you a friendly office, Guy," he 
 answered. 
 
 "I thank you most heartily, my lord," said Guy, coldly, 
 "for your kindness. Pray tell me what your errand is." 
 
 u Certainly, Guy ; but it were better if we were alone. 
 If the young lady would retire " 
 
 Violet made a feebly frantic effort to free herself from 
 the encircling arm of her lover, but with an instinctive 
 feeling of something being wrong he refused to release 
 her, saying : 
 
 " It is unnecessary, quite unnecessarv. Remain with 
 me, Violet." 
 
 "Let me go, Guy, let me go," she panted, thinking that 
 if she could but get away from him, and out of the imme- 
 diate influence of his loved presence, she would fly where 
 he could not reach her, where she could not witness the 
 agony she knew he would suffer. 
 
 " No, my darling, you must not go. Lord Coldenham, I 
 have but little time to listen to you, and you had better 
 speak quickljkor postpone what you have to say until I 
 have made this lady my wife." 
 
 "The lady will never be your wife, Guy," said Lord 
 Coldenham. 
 
 Violet had now free(* herself from Guy's restraining 
 arm. She had not left the room, however, for he stood 
 between her and the door. She had caught the back of a 
 chair, and was supporting herself by it, or her strength 
 would have been insufficient to sustain her weight. At 
 Lord Coklenham's ominous words Guy flashed a glance at 
 Violet, and another at Lord Coldenham. He did not ask 
 the meaning of the words 
 
 " What have you been saying to her, Lord Coldenham ? 
 
70 DEALING THE BLOW. 
 
 Remember you arc answering to the man who by his posi 
 tion has the right of a husband to demand an explana- 
 tion." 
 
 " I have told her, Guy, what you should have told her 
 before you enticed her away from her home." 
 
 Violet's eyes were fastened hungrily on his face, study- 
 ing with passionate love every phase of his emotion ; but 
 when he turned to her with a reassuring smile her eyes 
 fell hopelessly, and he turned haughtily to the marquis. 
 
 "You have taken an unwarrantable liberty, my lord, in 
 telling anything to my future wife without my permission, 
 and I find it the more difficult to excuse you, that I can 
 see plainly that you have caused her distress. Let us 
 understand each other. You come, no doubt, on the part 
 of my mother if you came on your own behalf I should 
 throw you, despite your years, out of the window and 
 you have, unfortunately, had opportunity to make this 
 lady unhappy, but there is no need of any further words, 
 and I will tell you frankly that I shall be obliged to you 
 if you will leave us. Violet, my darling, forget whatever 
 he may have said to you." 
 
 Lord Coldeiiham was quick enough to see that he had 
 made a mistake in his escimate of Guy, and he wished 
 most heartily that he had finished the affair before the 
 young man's return; but . he still depended on the girl, 
 who had not yet said a word to indicate her own position. 
 
 " It hardly becomes you," he said, with a very good as- 
 sumption of dignity, "to threaten a man of my years ; but 
 I can forgive that to your passion. I must refuse to leave 
 here, however, until you have heard what the young lady 
 has to say." 
 
 "Oh, 110, no ! I cannot do it !" rather gasped than said 
 Violet. 
 
 Guy turned to her with an infinite tenderness, and 
 despite her efforts to prevent him put his arm around her 
 arid drew her to him. 
 
 "You are disturbed, my darling," he said, in a low, 
 caressing -voice. " This shall never happen again." Then 
 to Lord Coldenham, "The best answer to your strange 
 demand will be the departing from here of this young 
 lady with me. Come, Violet. I see your bonnet and 
 cloak are here ; put them on, and we will leave this gen- 
 tleman, since he will not leave us." Then Violet made 
 a supreme effort to command herself, and do' the thing 
 which was worse than death to her. She pushed IP 
 
DEALING THE BLOW. 71 
 
 away from Guy, and with bosom heaving painfully said, 
 
 in a low, shuddering tone: 
 
 "Ho is right, Guy ; I cannot be your wife." 
 
 "Cannot !" and Guy glanced with a short, angry laugh 
 
 at Lord Coldenham. "Do you think, my darling, that 
 
 there is any power on earth to prevent you from being my 
 
 How handsome, and noble, and loving he looked to her 
 at that moment, and it seemed to her as if she could not 
 the words that would make him hate and despise her. 
 She lifted her eyes appealingly to Lord Coldenham, who 
 stood watching her with an anxiety he would not have; 
 betrayed for the world. He answered her glance with a 
 cold frown. 
 
 "I cannot be your wife, Guy," was all she could say. 
 
 Guy looked at her as she shrank before him, and a 
 great pity for her welled from his heart, for he knew she 
 must have been sorely tried. And his anger toward Lord 
 Coldenham was fierce and hot. 
 
 " What vile thing have you done to this angel, whose 
 innocence and purity might have appealed to the arch- 
 fiend himself? What have you said to her? What lies 
 have you told? What base thing have you been guilty of? 
 I will not ask her to tell me, but you ; and, by Heaven \ 
 if you do not tell me I will tear it from you, though your 
 age were double, for falsehood and treachery are even 
 viler in old age than in youth,' 1 and Guy's eyes blazed 
 dangerously as he took a step toward the older man. 
 
 But wicked though he was Lord Coldenham was no 
 coward, and Guy's attitude gave him the spirit to answer 
 boldly : 
 
 "I told her the truth, and only the truth ; and if you 
 have needjbo ask me, instead of obtaining the inform 
 from her, it is only because your violence fright*' 
 I will tell you, not because you threaten me like a willful 
 boy, but because you have rendered that poor girl 
 bio of telling you. I said that your mother would disin- 
 herit you if you married her." 
 
 Guy turned from him with a gesture of contempt that 
 seemed to say that he understood and fathomed the small- 
 ness of his character. 
 
 "My darling, will you not put on your cloak and bonnet 
 and go with mo? It is easier for your husband to protect 
 you from insult." 
 
 "But it is true," she moaned; "what he says is true. 
 
72 DEALING THE SLOW. 
 
 That is what he told me, and I cannot cannot marry 
 you." 
 
 He smiled pitifully and incredulously. 
 
 "You are unnerved, my darling." 
 
 "No, no," she said, wildly. "You must believe me 
 you must. I cannot will not marry you." 
 
 A look of perplexity crossed Guy's face as he looked at 
 Violet. Her agony was so great that he could not mistake 
 it ; but there was a settled despair in her refusal to marry 
 him that sent a chill to his heart. 
 
 "Do you realize what you are saying, Violet?" he 
 asked, in a low, beseeching tone. 
 
 "I know I know," she answered, looking wildly about 
 her, as if seeking some mode of escape. " I said I would 
 not marry you. I mean it, Guy. Let me go do riot 
 speak to me again. I I am not not worthy. I oh, 
 tell him, tell him, for I cannot." 
 
 "Yes, I will speak for you," began Lord 'Coldenham, 
 but Guy interrupted him in a hoarse, menacing tone. 
 
 " As there is a heaven above us, Lord Coldenham, if 
 you interfere by so much as a word between her and me 
 I will do you a mortal injury. Violet, tell me what this 
 means. It is so few hours ago that I left you and you 
 clung to me, saying you loved me, and now you say 
 what do you say ?" 
 
 She shrank before his burning eyes, and her soul burst 
 forth in a wail : 
 
 " He will hate me, he will hate me !" 
 
 Then his love burst forth, and he caught her in hia 
 arms, crying : 
 
 " My darling, my darling ! will you let anything come 
 between us ? Have we left father and mother for love of 
 each other, to be parted now? No, no, my darling, no." 
 
 Ikwas so good to be there, after the agony and woe that 
 had possessed her soul, that for a moment she let her 
 head rest peacefully on his breast, and he felt that he had 
 regained her; but of a sudden her promise came to her, 
 and with a sobbing moan she broke away from him, and 
 let the unhappy lie find its way to her unwilling lips. 
 
 " No, no, Guy. I thought you would be rich I did not 
 know that your mother would disinherit you, I I can- 
 not marry you if you are poor." 
 
 Guy stared at her as if he had gone mad. 
 
 " It is a lie a lie !" he saul, hoarsely. " I do not believe 
 it. My Violet care for money ! Oh, Heaven, she is mad ! 
 And you" he turned to Lord Coldenham with such an 
 
MARTIN JENKINS FORGETS JUS CLOTH. 73 
 
 expression distorting his face that the nobleman felt him- 
 self in danger "you have done it. Violet, my darling, 
 come here here to 1113' arms, and forget all that has been 
 said to you." 
 
 Then Violet looked at him with a terrible agony in her 
 2 yes. 
 
 "I am not mad, Guy. I know what I am saying. I 
 will not marry you since you are poor. It is money, as 
 well us station, that I want." 
 
 "You are not mad, and you say this?" and he passed 
 his hand over his eyes, as it' he hoped thereby to remove 
 the vail that hung between him and the Violet he had left 
 a few hours ago. "Then I must be mad. You want my 
 money money ! If the angels had told me this I would 
 have said they lied ! And your own lips say it your 
 own lips. Violet Violet ! Is it true ?" 
 
 " It is true. Now let me go." 
 
 "No, I will go," and he went reeling from the room. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 MARTIN JENKINS FORGETS HIS CLOTH. 
 
 No one can tell how ill news travels, but certain it is 
 that it travels so fast that good news seldom overtakes it 
 if there should be any to go after it. It would have been 
 impossible to say who first told the story of Violet's elope- 
 ment with Lord Darlington, and perhaps it would have 
 been equally difficult to say what the story originally was, 
 for, by the time it had gone through the hamlet, it had 
 taken on a dozen different guises. 
 
 A few affected to believe that Violet had gone to her 
 ruin, but the faith of most of them was so great in Violet 
 that it was the common expectation that she would be 
 with them presently as Lady Darlington, and the sick 
 and needy looked forward to that event a sort of mil- 
 lennium. 
 
 The news spread all through the neighborhood, too, and 
 many a young farmer and yeoman who had looked at 
 Violet with eyes of love and longing, passed a heart-sick 
 day in consequence. But it is to the credit of human 
 nature that for the most part they wished her all the hap- 
 piness in life, and those who knew Guy as well had no 
 hesitation in saying she had found a mote as near to being 
 worthy of her as could be. 
 
74 MARTIN JSNKIXS FORGETS HIS CLOTH. 
 
 Here and there was one who, in his disappointment at 
 being robbed of the hope of ever obtaining the sweet 
 flower of Penarth, vented his ill-temper in saying the 
 most spiteful things of the two runaway lovers. 
 
 Only Martin Jenkins, the good curate who had wor- 
 shiped at Violet's shrine, did not give a thought to the 
 elopement. He thought of Violet, for that was in the 
 very nature of things with him he was always thinking 
 of her. Not with any hope that she might one day be his, 
 but because he felt that to have loved her was a happi- 
 ness quite equal to his poor deserts. He did not think of 
 the elopement for the reason that he had work to do that 
 had kept him isolated indoors all the morning, and he 
 had not heard it spoken of. 
 
 It was not until the afternoon that the news came to 
 him, and then it came in a way that marked an epoch in 
 the life of the simple curate. A simple soul Martin Jen- 
 kins verily was ; simple, with a meekness, an honesty, 
 and a loving kindness that made him loved by the very 
 folk who believed they looked down oh him for his sim- 
 plicity. 
 
 There had been a little change in him recently. The 
 coming into five thousand pounds had had something to 
 do with it ; but he knew that loving Violet Lisle had had 
 more. The love had given him a litle more of the respect 
 for himself which he had lacked, and which he had 
 needed, and the five thousand pounds had given him a 
 little touch of independence, which folks had felt rather 
 than noticed. The rector, particularly, found it less easy 
 to browbeat Martin than he had done. And yet no one 
 knew of the legacy, for Martin, with a praiseworthy mod- 
 esty, had been disinclined to speak of it to any one lest he 
 should be thought guilty of worldly pride. 
 
 Happiness the money certainly had given him, for it 
 enabled him to give his old mother a home, such as the 
 meager savings out of his scanty pay had never enabled 
 him to do. He had at his first coming to Penarth wished 
 to have his mother with him, but the rector had very 
 promptly told him that he didn't want any old woman to 
 make mischief in the parish, and though Martin's meek 
 soul had boiled with wrath at such a suggestion he had 
 said nothing, and had nearly starved himself in order to 
 save enough to keep his dear old mother comfortable. 
 And now lie had ha,d a tiny cottage near London fitted up 
 for her, quite unknown to her, and he was going down to 
 see her and take her to her new home. It was in order to 
 
MAHT1A' ,11. //y,S' CL'tTH. 
 
 get ahead of his work that ho had spent all the morning 
 indoors that day. 
 
 In the afternoon lie buttoned his thin coat about him 
 and haste lied out to make some of the visits that could not 
 I, and to notify those who looked for his daily 
 visit that it would be lacking for a day or two. He 
 noticed at the blacksmith's a knot of the young farmers 
 lie neighborhood, and wondered why they were con- 
 gregated there ; but it was not until his visiting carried 
 him toward them that lie discovered why, for he had been 
 so hurried in his talk with the cottage peo; le that none of 
 them had had any opportunity to discuss the latest sensa- 
 tion with him. 
 
 He nodded to the young men when he saw that they had 
 noticed him, and would have gone his way, but one of 
 them halted him. 
 
 " Hello, parson ! what do you think of the news ?" 
 
 " What news ?" 
 
 "The news, man. Is there more than one thing to tell, 
 I'd like to know ?" 
 
 "You'll have to tell me the news," said Martin, with his 
 pleasant smile, 
 
 " Tell it to you ? Where have you been all the day not 
 to hear it? You'll never tell us you haven't heard about 
 Violet Lisle? 1 ' 
 
 Martin paled at the thought of possible evil to Violet. 
 
 "I have heard nothing. What about her?" 
 
 "Run away with Lord Darlington." 
 
 Martin paled with generous anger this time. 
 
 "A sorr3 T joke, young men," he said, with a new dig- 
 nity for him, and turned to go away. 
 
 "No joke at all, parson," said one of them, earnestly, 
 "but the truth, as all the countryside knows by now. 
 She went away with him last night." 
 
 Martin looked at them one by one with a growing fear 
 in his heart. He said nothing, however, and one of them 
 went on ; 
 
 "Some say she'll be back as Lady Darlington; some 
 say not." 
 
 Then Martin Jenkins spoke quickly. 
 
 "No one who knows Miss Lisle will doubt her, and 
 shame be to the man who will give voice to a suspicion 
 against her." 
 
 John Broad, the brawny young farmer who had spoken, 
 flushed deep at this rebuke, and was the more angry that 
 he saw that the others were very much of Martin's way 
 
76 MARTI M JEMilM FORGETS HIS CLOTH. 
 
 of thinking, though his brawn and muscle had kept them 
 from open remonstrance. 
 
 " It's well known, parson," said he, with angry sarcasm, 
 " that you would speak the devil well, let alone a young 
 woman who has jilted you." 
 
 A little laugh went around at this, but Martin gave it 
 no thought. His mind was full of Violet. 
 
 " It is an ungenerous act, John Broad, to twit a man 
 with such a thing," he said, warmly ; "but I do not blush 
 to own that I have offered myself, all unworthy of her, to 
 Miss Lisle. It will always be a happiness to me that it 
 has fallen to me to love her. Any man who truly loved 
 her would be the better for it. I have never talked with 
 Lord Darlington, but I do not doubt that he is as good as 
 the least of us, and I have faith to believe that he, no 
 more than one of us, would try to wrong Miss Lisle. Suc- 
 ceed in wronging her he could not, and I will take that 
 stand before the whole world, in the face of all that may 
 be said." 
 
 "Parson's right," said one. 
 
 "That he is," said another, and those who did not speak 
 nodded their heads encouragingly. 
 
 John Broad spread his legs, tapped his boot with his 
 whip-stock, and exclaimed, with a sneer : 
 
 "You do well to take the part of the half-starved whip- 
 pe.r snapper because he's bayed at the same moon with 
 you. For myself I am not afraid to say and maintain 
 that Violet Lisle is no better than any other girl, and it is 
 more than likely she's gone to town with Lord Darling- 
 ton, preferring to be the mistress of a nobleman rather 
 than the honest wife of a common yeoman." 
 
 The other young men stood silent, chiefly perhaps from 
 not having words ready, but Martin spoke up quickly : 
 
 " Shame on you, John Broad ! It is a coward's act to 
 defame a woman !" 
 
 John Broad took a step forward toward Martin, glower- 
 ing on him in his anger. 
 
 "Sniveling puppy !" said he ; "parson or no parson, I've 
 a mind to shake yon into manners. And if it weren't for 
 your shabby cloth I'd lay you out in the dust." 
 
 "When I defend a woman," said Martin, "I do it as a 
 man, not as a priest, and no man shall speak ill of that 
 lady in my presence." 
 
 "What'llyou do then, you whiffet?" demanded John, 
 contemptuously. " I say it again, and stand by it Violet 
 Lisle has found her price." 
 
MARTIN J EX KINS FOUUETS HIS CLOTH. 77 
 
 "Say that again," said Martin, " and I will knock you 
 down, so Heaven gives me strength." 
 
 "Say no more, John," growled one of the young men, 
 uneasily. 
 
 "Enough has been said already, and more," ventured 
 another. 
 
 But John was angry as angry with himself as with 
 them, probably and would not stop where he was. 
 
 " That for her virtue !" said he, snapping his fingers in 
 the face of Martin, but looking at the others who, he 
 thought, were more likely to take it up, for who would 
 believe that meek Martin Jenkins, the bullied curate, 
 would ever carry out his threat. 
 
 But he did, with a passionate anger such as he had 
 never felt before toward one of God's creatures. He 
 jumped at the brawny young farmer and struck him such 
 a blow in the face as laid him with all his length in the 
 dust of the road. 
 
 Then up .jumped big John Broad, and with a roar such 
 as they say the bull of Bashan was wont to utter, rushed 
 at brave Martin Jenkins, who stood waiting, knowing 
 what was likely to happen when the great fist struck him, 
 but disdaining to flinch an inch. There was a strange 
 exultation in his soul at the thought of doing battle for 
 Violet, and Heaven knows that he would hutve died right 
 there if the need had been ; but it was not to be. The 
 young men who had 1ft all this happen without knowing 
 quite what to do to stop it now interposed and put them- 
 selves between the furious giant and the defender of 
 Violet. 
 
 " 'Tis enough, John Broad," said one, very sternly. 
 " You shall fight us all first. It was a shame that we 
 ever let the parson take the brunt of it. Go your ways, 
 John Broad ; and for myself, I wish to say it that I stand 
 ready any time- to take up the quarrel for Miss Lisle." 
 
 "And what Oliver Hawkins says I say, too," said 
 another, and then they all said or showed that they were 
 of the same mind. 
 
 "He has struck me a blow," roared John, who would 
 willingly have assaulted the crowd, but for that remain- 
 ing grain of common sense that told him it would be 
 foolish. 
 
 " "Well, "said Oliver Hawkins, sturdily and uncompro- 
 misingly, "it was what one of us should have done, and 
 what I honor him for more than I ever thought to honor a 
 parson for anything. I think there is no man in tho 
 
78 MARTIN JENKINS FOEGETS HIS 
 
FATHER A XI) DAUGHTER. 79 
 
 is true, then? She is Lady Darlington?" said 
 
 True ? Yes, it are, which I don't mind admittin', sir, 
 to you, that I never knowed a word of it till yesterday, 
 fur the first time, when Lady Darlington the dowager, I 
 think, we will call her henceforward " said Goody, with 
 an air of knowing aristocratic ways, "the dowager came 
 . nn' had a talk with Mr. Lisle. Excuse me, Mr. Jen- 
 kins, it' I smile, which I can't no more help when I think 
 :e baker man he gave her as good and better every 
 . The Lisles, Mr. Jenkins, were gentry when the 
 Darlingtoiis was bakers,. which Mr. Lisle told her, not 
 mincing matters no more than I would talkin' to you, sir, 
 winch you know ain't necessary." 
 
 " I judge, then, that the parents were unwilling, and 
 that tho young people took the matter into their own 
 hamlsJ' 
 
 u \\aiich I couldn't have expressed it better myself. 
 And her father, sir, mercy me ! IK; be that proud, says he 
 to me, or words in substance the same, 'Vi'let's left my 
 house, gone A ne'tlier know nor care whither. You will 
 never speak her name to me. She ceases to be a daughter 
 of mine.' -v hich it was like as if it come out of a book. 
 But, Lor' bless you, sir ! I knowed where she were gone, 
 an' why." 
 
 'I could, wish," said Martin, slowly, "that it had hap- 
 
 d in a more regular way ; but when you hear from 
 
 I/uly Darlington your mistress, I mean will you say to 
 
 that no one rejoices in her happiness more than I do. 
 
 ; s happy, is she not, Mrs. White?" 
 
 "He worships the ground she walks on, Mr. Jenkins. I 
 know it, for I see it." 
 
 u I am very glad. I was sure she must love him and he 
 her. Thank you, Mrs, White ; you have been very kind 
 
 -nfide in me." 
 
 " Which it were confiding, Mr. Jenkins, an' only be- 
 cnuse I know how much she thought o' you." 
 
 "Thank you for telling me that. Thank you. Good- 
 by. I am going away for a day or two." 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 
 
 Violefc walchpd ('iiy disappear through the door with 
 Btaring, strained eyes, ard if she could have found her 
 
60 FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 
 
 voice she must surely have called to him to come back to 
 her, for a sort of frenzy of defrauded love overwhelmed 
 her, and made her clutch at her throat and gasp inarticu- 
 lately after him. 
 
 Then she ran, or rather staggered, to the door, as if to 
 go after him, but Lord Coldenham, who had been watch- 
 ing her, laid a restraining hand on her arm, and said : 
 
 " You have done nobly. Do not undo it now." 
 
 "Oh, Heaven! what have I done ? what have I done?" 
 she moaned. 
 
 And then her senses failed her, and she would have 
 fallen had not Lord Coldenham been there to catch her in 
 his arms and support her. 
 
 She had not fainted, but rather fallen in a numb de- 
 spair, which, with her exhaustion, had made her utterly 
 nerveless. 
 
 Lord Coldenham placed her gently on the so^a, and 
 waited until he saw that she had recovered somewhat, 
 when he said : 
 
 "You must not remain here. Come with me." 
 
 She looked at him, and obeyed without a word. She 
 seemed to have lost all wish to think for herself, and he 
 was not a little alarmed at her dreary apathy. She 
 donned her cloak and bonnet at his word, and followed 
 him down stairs, waited while he paid the landlady's bill, 
 and followed him into the street, leaning passively on hie 
 arm until he could call a cab. 
 
 His intention had been merely to get her out of the 
 hotel, believing that Guy would return after a time to see 
 her once more ; but now that they were out, and he saw 
 that she continued in the stupor into which she had fallen, 
 he was alarmed and embarrassed. 
 
 "Rouse yourself, my dear young lady," he said; "do 
 not give way so. Tell me where I shall take you." 
 
 " What does it matter where I go now ?" she answered, 
 and he feared that her mind had been unhinged by her 
 agony. 
 
 A sudden thought came to him, and without further 
 words he walked on until he found a cab, when he had 
 himself and her driven to a hotel. There he remained 
 with her until evening, when he ordered a carriage, and 
 was driven to the station, where he bought tickets for 
 Penarth, without consulting his passive charge, v, ho, dur- 
 ing the whole day, had not spoken a word without being 
 first questioned. 
 
 The world, indeed, was all a blank to her. She had 
 
FATH/SR A\D DAUGHTER. 81 
 
 gone to the limit of her endurance in the interview with 
 Guy, and all she could feel was the recurring agony of his 
 
 ok when she told him that it was his money she de- 
 sired ; all she could see was his face when he turned from 
 her and ran out of her presence, which she told herself 
 must have become hateful to him. She followed Lord 
 Coldenham, careless of where he should take her. 
 
 More than once the hard man of the world had looked 
 at his victim with a shuddering sense of having done a 
 worse thing than murder in destroying the happiness of 
 such a guileless, innocent creature, but each time he had 
 driven the feeling away with a forced assurance that she 
 would get over it in time. He remembered that her 
 father had said that he renounced her as daughter of his ; 
 but he was inclined to shrug his shoulders at that as a bit 
 of heroics. At any rate he knew of nothing else to do 
 with Violet than to return her to her home, and that was 
 what he purposed doing. 
 
 Possibly Violet was conscious in a way of where she 
 was going, but it did not impress itself on her mind, even 
 when he led her out of the compartment at Penarth sta- 
 tion, and she stepped as apathetically into the carriage 
 that stood waiting as she had done everything else. 
 
 Lord Coldenham gave the driver his order in a low 
 voice and then threw himself back in the cushions, con- 
 gratulating himself that his charge would soon be off his 
 hands. Violet sat listlessly in the carriage, thinking, 
 thinking, thinking of Guy. " When the carriage stopped, 
 and she was assisted to alight, she noticed for the first 
 time, with a shock of sudden consciousness, where she 
 was, and she turned with a sort of terror to Lord Golden- 
 ham. 
 
 u You would not leave me h ere ? I cannot go to him 
 my father." 
 
 " There is nowhere else to go," said Lord Coldenham, tak- 
 ing her by the hand and leading her almost forcibly to the 
 door of the little cottage, where he knocked and waited 
 until the door was opened by old Goody White, who had 
 heard the carriage drive up and had hastened with 
 proudly beating heart to welcome the new Lady Darling- 
 ton. 
 
 "My sweet lamb !" she cried, taking her in her arms, 
 "you came to old Good}' fir^t, then, did you? You will 
 r,;u-er go, Lord Darlington," she cried out to Lord Colden- 
 ham, who had hurried back to the carriage. 
 
 He made no answer, but gave the order to drive to the 
 
FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 
 
 oastle, and stepped into the carriage. Goody looked a 
 moment in amazement, but concluded it was by some ar- 
 rangement with Violet, and turned to her once more. 
 
 "Oh, but he's angry," she said, in a whisper, drawing 
 Violet into the little dining-room, "but mercy me ! he'l] 
 forgive anything to you now. My blessed lamb ! a 
 countess you be now, sure enough. Why, whatever are 
 the matter, my lamb, my lady I should say, now? 1 ' 
 
 " He is gone, gone !" moaned "Violet, finding in the 
 familiar presence of old Goody the charm to loosen the 
 bonds in which her soul had been tied. 
 
 'Gone! Ay, but I'll be bound he'll be back pretty 
 quick. Don't fret about that, my lamb, but pluck up 
 your heart to see your father. Speak up to him bold and 
 fr^e, as a countess should. You be a Lisle like himself, 
 an' no cause to fear him. An' if he don't like it so mud] 
 the worse for lie.'" 
 
 U I am not married, Goody," said Violet, holding the 
 good creature off from her and staring into her eyes like 
 a hunted animal. "I have come back just as I went 
 Violet Lisle. If I had known," she went on, dreamily, 
 " that he was bringing me here I would not have come, 
 but I think I have been dead since he left me." 
 
 "Not married !" cried Goody, shrilly. "Come back as 
 you went ! The villain, the wretch !" 
 
 " Hush, Goody, you do not know w r hat you are saying. 
 It is I who am the wretch, I who have ruined arrd deso 
 lated his life. Oh, why did I do it ? Was it necessary \ 
 Oh, I shall go mad !" 
 
 Here was something quite beyond the good woman's 
 ken, and she could only try to comfort the terrible dis 
 tress of her young mistress by incoherent, soothing words. 
 Suddenly Violet stopped her. It seemed as if a complete 
 realization of her position had come to her in an instant. 
 It left her preternaturally calm and cold, and in aftei 
 times she could recall that she even then wondered at her- 
 self for being calm when she was near enough to madness 
 to feel that she might plunge into it the next moment. 
 
 "You say my father is angry, Goody ?" she asked. 
 
 " Terrible angry. Not in a fury, but like I never see 
 him afore.'* 
 
 " What did he say ?" 
 
 "I wouldn't worrit about that now, my lamb," said 
 Gi-oody, dreading to tell what he had said. 
 
 "Tell me what he said, Goody. I must know." 
 
 " 1 was never to speak of you again, and " 
 
FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 83 
 
 " He said I should no longer be his daught not 
 
 'that it, Goody?' 1 asked Violet, with an awful calmness. 
 
 "Something like that, my lamb, but dorft you think o 1 
 feat. 1 ' 
 
 "Yes, I must think of it. I have sinned against my 
 
 father, Goody, but I arn punished. I shall not stay here," 
 
 ishe went on, wearily, but with the same dreadful calm- 
 
 : "I will go to my father, and ask him to forgive me ; 
 
 but I have no right to stay.' 1 
 
 " Yon will not stay here !" cried Goody, wringing her 
 Is. u She doesn't know what she is sayin', poor lamb ! 
 t say a word to your father to-night, my darling. 
 >ur room, and lay your tired head down and 
 i. To-morrow's time enough for that." 
 So, I will go up to him now. He is in his library, is 
 he not? 11 
 
 " Don't you go don't you go I" pleaded Goody, in a 
 paroxysm of despair. 
 
 But Violet put her gently aside, and went up the stairs, 
 down which less than twenty-four hours ago she had 
 -stolen so stealthily to go meet her lover the man she had 
 told she did not love Guy, to whom she had said that she 
 
 ! only for his money. 
 
 She knocked at the door of the library, and entered 
 iwhen her father's harsh voice bade her enter. Had he 
 ;>ected who it was that knocked that his voice had 
 taken on such a harshness, that he stood in black silence 
 'in the middle of the room when she entered and looked at 
 him with such a look of pleading?" 
 " Father* forgive me I' 1 she sobbed. 
 "Why have you come back?" he asked. 
 "Not to ask you to take me back, but orjly to ask you to 
 forgive me," she answered, brokenly. 
 
 "You might have spared yourself the trouble," he 
 answered, with iron calmness. 
 
 14 You will not refuse me that, father," she pleaded. "I 
 
 know now how wrong it was to go contrary to your will, 
 
 but. T will take the consequences even though they he 
 
 t.h. That would be welcome. But forgive me,* forgive 
 
 If you knew what I have suffered, father." 
 "I am not your father. It is nothing to me what you 
 have suffered. You waste breath asking rne for forgive- 
 
 1 ha\'e nothing to do with it or you." 
 
 lie looked so cold, hard, and unrelenting thni as she 
 
 :illy in his fare for one sign of fatherly lov 
 
 heart grew cold within her, and she turned with droop- 
 
84. TWENTY THOUSAND POUNDS. 
 
 ing head and went toward the door. There she paused, 
 and looked again to see if there might not have come one 
 softening line into the rigid i'ace. 
 
 "Father, your forgiveness I' 1 she pleaded. 
 
 "You have marked out your own path follow it," was 
 all he said, and turned to some books that lay on his table, 
 as if every thought of the fair creature he had once called 
 daughter had been driven out of his brain. 
 
 Violet hushed a moan, and crept from the room and 
 down the stairs. 
 
 Goody stood at the bottom, her old eyes running over 
 with tears. 
 
 "You shall not go alone, Miss Vi 'let," she sobbed. "Not 
 while old Goody lives shall you be alone in the world. 
 Let me get my things. He can shift the best he can the 
 monster !" 
 
 "Hush !" said Violet, wearily. "He is right. Stay with 
 him, Goody. He will need you more than I shall. Stay 
 with him for my sake. Perhaps the time will come when 
 he will think kindlier of me ; then you will ask him to 
 forgive me. I have done him a great wrong, Goody I do 
 wrong to everybody, it seems. I don't know why I do, 
 but so it is. It will be better when I when I am dead, 
 Goody ; then you must seek Guy, and tell him from me 
 that I did what I did because I loved him so well. Good- 
 by, dear.' 1 
 
 She kissed the old woman and fled out of the house into 
 the darkness, Goody crying out after her to come back. 
 But Violet Lisle never crossed the threshold of the cot- 
 tage again. * 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 TWENTY THOUSAND POUNDS. 
 
 In all his life Lord Coldenham had never had such a 
 day as this had been. He would not have believed that 
 the suffering of another could have affected him so much 
 as the dumb distress of Violet had done. If it had not 
 been for his own necessities he would never have persisted 
 in his cruel course, but he had carefully weighed his own 
 interests against Violet's happiness, and there had been 
 no chance for his victim. 
 
 With Violet constantly before him during the day he 
 had needed all his strength of purpose to remain firm, and 
 
TWENTY THOUSAbD POUNDS. 65 
 
 there had been little opportunity for thought of any sort, 
 but when he had rid himself of her, and was driving back 
 to the castle he drew a breath of relief and settled himself 
 back to calmly contemplate the whole affair. 
 
 He went over all that had occurred ; his own action, 
 Violet's self-sacrifice, and Guy's agony and anger. Then 
 it came to him for the first time in a form that he could 
 grasp, that although he had succeeded in alienating the 
 two lovers from each other he had not thereby helped 
 himself at all, since it was unlikely that Guy would ever 
 forgive him for his part in the affair. He had taken Vio- 
 let from him, but he had not put Sibyl any nearer to him. 
 
 That morning he would have scoffed at the idea of what 
 he had done making any real or permanent difference to 
 Guy, for then his opinion of him had been that he was too 
 weak, too ductile in the hands of his mother for anything 
 -to make a lasting difference with him ; but now as he 
 looked back the impression on his mind made by Guy's 
 conduct of the morning was that Guy was a strong, pur- 
 poseful man, who would be led by none. 
 
 Was this to mean, then, that he had wrought his cruel 
 work for naught ? Was nothing to corrie of it all but the 
 misery of the sweetest, noblest woman he had ever met 
 he admitted that to himself and the hatred of a strong 
 man, as he now realized Guy to be? He pressed his 
 hands to his head, and thought and thought all the way 
 to the castle, trying to comprehend how he could work 
 some good to himself out of the despair he had wrought. 
 
 It never once occurred to him to undo his work and 
 pour balm on two torn and bleeding hearts. All his sym- 
 pathy for Violet was fading away in the thought of the 
 little that was to corne to him for his day's work. Then a 
 sudden thought came, and when the carriage drew up at 
 the castle his face was deathly white and his eyes furtive ; 
 but no one saw the look on his face but the footman, and 
 he did not give it a second thought. 
 
 It had been Lord Coldenham's intention to seek Lady 
 Darlington at once on returning, but now he went 
 straight to his own apartments, sending word to Lady 
 Darlington of his return, and asking her to see him. Then 
 he went to his dressing-room and sat at his wri Mug-table, 
 writing and re-writing until he hit upon the words to suit 
 him. 
 
 Lady Darlington's eager message that she would see 
 him in her own parlor came to him. but he did not heed it 
 until he had finished his work. Then he looked in the 
 
TWENTY 
 
 J'OUNDS. 
 
 mirror, composed himself as an actor might before goL 
 on the stage, and went to meet Lady Darlington n 
 Coldenharn should meet her. 
 
 But Lady Darlington was too anxious to be cereinoi 
 ous, and the marquis was no sooner alone with her thj 
 she leaned forward in her chair with clasped hands, di 
 manding : 
 
 "What has happened? 1 ' 
 
 "I found them 
 
 "Yes, yes." 
 
 "And they are separated." 
 
 "Oh, my Lord Coldenham ! how can I ever thank y< 
 enough for what you have done done for my boy as w< 
 as for myself ?" 
 
 "No thanks are needed, Lady Darlington. I suppose 
 may be said that I was thinking of Sibyl as well as 
 Guy. I felt that I had a common interest with you." 
 
 " But I must thank you. And you have had a hard dai 
 of it. I can see it in your face." 
 
 Lord Coldenham started strangely, and a chill ran ov< 
 him. 
 
 Yes," he answered, in a low tone, as if his voice hi 
 suddenly failed him, "it has been a hard day. I had 
 looked for so much opposition." 
 
 "From whom?" demanded Lady Darlington, sharply. 
 
 "From both. Guy was infatuated, Lady Darlington] 
 You were right in saying he was, and I think he will 
 never forgive me for my part in it, but I did what wt 
 best for him and us." 
 
 Lady Darlington did not notice the hesitation witl 
 which he spoke, nor the way in which he avoided ^ 
 
 into the particulars of the meeting ; but he noticed it hinii 
 self, and his effort to conquer the feeling made his tongiu 
 lag in its office. 
 
 "You do not know Guy, Lord Coldenham," said Lad; 
 Darlington. "He may be angry now. He would be morel 
 than human if he were not ; but he will soon have for- 
 gotten this girl, and you need have no fear that he wi 
 remember your kindness against you." 
 
 "I fear that it is you who do not know Guy, Lady Dar-i 
 lington at least the Guy that I met this morning. I wasi 
 astonished. I am sure that if I had not by good fortune! 
 had the opportunity to see the girl alone first sho would 
 never have been persuaded to leave him. He would not] 
 have permitted her to listen to me." 
 
 "It was an interposition of Providence that you saw her! 
 
TWENTY THOUSAND POUNDS. 87 
 
 alone," said Lady Darlington, who found it easy to com- 
 prehend that the assistance of Providence would naturally 
 be with her. "But where has she gone? Where is Guy? 
 But you must be weary too weary to talk. I can see 
 that you are. 1 ' 
 
 "Yes, 11 answered Lord Coldenham, "I am weary, but 
 now I will tell you briefly what has happened. After- 
 ward I will tell you everything." 
 
 u Do not tire yourself," said Lady Darlington ; but he 
 could see that she was eager to know the details of what 
 hud happened, and for reasons of his own he did not wish 
 to seem loth to tell them to her. 
 
 "The girl," he said, slowly, u is at her father's. T would 
 not trust her out of my sight. I thought it would be 
 wiser not to. I do not know where Guy is. He went 
 from us, and I have not seen him since." 
 
 Then the mother's fears triumphed for a moment. 
 
 "You do not believe that he has done anything rash ?" 
 
 "No. I think it is quite likely that he will take to dis- 
 sipation for a time to drown his grief. I jihink that is the 
 usual way," be added, with a hard, cynical smile. 
 
 "Not with Guy," said Lady Darlington. "I sometimes 
 wish he was more given that way. No, he will return 
 lere, I am certain." 
 
 Lord Coldenham smiled at the infatuation of the 
 mother.