UNIVERSITY or C IFORNIA RIVERSIDE \^^^^ Ex Libris ISAAC FOOT < < MADCAP VIOLET MADCAP VIOLET BY WILLIAM BLACK NEW AND REVISED EDITION LONDON SAMPbON LO^V, MAKSTON & COMPANY l,JMJ7J-JD &t. Dunstan's Jijoust 1892 [Ml right'! rfitrved.'] M36 n2. I.ONPON : PRINTKTI BT WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, STAMFOIIU STUEET AND CHAKINO OROaS. CONTENTS. CttiP. PAGR I.- -"You Devil I' 1 II.- — Cakpe Diem .... 7 III.- —A Suburban Philosopher 1.5 IV.- — Flutterings near the Fi.ajie . 2.') V.- —Subterranean Fires 40 VI.- -Crabbed Age and Youth 52 VII.- —A Summer Day's Drive . 61 VIII.- —England, Farewell I 80 IX.- — Ccklum non Animam . , 84 x- —A Message Home 88 XT.- —Home ..... 100 xn.- —Walpurgis-night 112 XIII.- —Fire and Water 127 XIV.- — " Like getting Home again " 134 XV.- —Mistaken Guesses . . 142 XVI. — Abiono some Pictures . l.W XVII. —From North to Solth . 105 XVIII.- —Castle Bandbox, N.B. . 171 XIX.- — Abra .... . 192 XX. —Setting out . 198 XXI.- —"Rain, Wind, and Speed" . 206 XXII.- -The magio Merganser . 214 XXIII. —A Crisis .... . 233 XXIV. —Love went a-Sailing . 244 XXV. — FoRKBOniNGS . 252 XXVI.- — L0(;H CORUISK . . 265 XXVII. txvnL- —Under the Black Coolins -Cross Currents . 272 . 276 VI CONTENTS. CHAl'. XXIX. — Homeward BorND . XXX. — Challenged .... XXXI.— " Farewell ! Farewell!" XXXII. — In London .... XXXIII. — TuE Laurels at Wombley Flat XXXIV. — An Encounter XXXV.— Tidings XXXVL— In a Theatre .... XXXVII.— An Epitaph .... XXXVni. — preparations for Flight XXXIX.—" Soul to Soul ! " . XL. — Uninvited Guests . XLI. — A Bringek op Evil . XLII. — Eepentanoe .... XLIIL— At Last! .... XLIV. — Joy and Fear .... XLV. — " O gentle Wind that bloweth Soith " XLVI.— Hope's Wings XLVII. — Du Sciimekzenreichb ! . . . FAGK 280 301 310 316 328 339 846 353 359 366 381 3«5 394 401 415 423 428 433 440 MADCAP VIOLET. CHAPTER I. " YOU DEVIL I " There was a 'great silence in the schoolroom. A young girl of sixteen or seventeen, tall and strikingly handsome in figure, with abundant masses of raven-black hair, dark eyes under darker eyelashes, and proud and well-cut lips, walked up to the schoolmistress's table. There was scarcely anything of malice or mischief visible in the bold careless- ness of her face. The schoolmistress looked up from some accounts she had been studying. " Well, Miss North ? " she said, with marked surprise. •' I have a question to ask, if you please. Miss Main," said the handsome young lady, with absolute coolness and deliberation (and all the school was now listening intently). " I wish to ask what sort of society we are expected to meet when we go abroad, and whether foreigners are in the habit of using language wiiieh is not usually applied to ladies in this country. Half an hour ago, when we were having our Cerman conversation with Dr. Siedl, he made use of a very odd phrase, and I believe it was addressed to me. He said, ' You devil ! ' 1 only wish to ask, i\Iiss ^lain, whether we must be prc])ared to hear such phrases in the conversation of foreigners." The schooliuistress's thin, grey, careworn face grew red with mortification. Yet, what could she do ? There was nothing openly rebellious in the demeanour of this in- corrigible girl — notiiing, indeed, but a cool ini]iertineucc which was outwardly most respectful. B 2 MADCAP VIOLET " You may rctiu-n to your seat, ]\riss North," she said, risinef, " T \\\\\ in(|uirc into tliis matter at once." Miss ]\Iaiu, ^vhu was the proprietor as well as tlic head- mistress of the school, was greatly perturbed by this in- cident ; and she was quite nervous and excited when she went iuto the room where the (Jcrman master still sate, correctiui,^ some exercises. When he saw her enter, he rose at once ; he guessed from her manner what had happened. Tlie young man in the shabby clothes was even more excited than she was ; and why ? Because, two years before, he had left his home in the old-fashioned little fortress of Ncisse, in Silesia, and he had bade good-bye then to a young girl whom he hoped to make his wife. England was a rich country. A few years of absence would put money in his pocket ; and he would return with a good English pronunciation, which would be of value. So he came to England ; but he did not find the streets paved with gold. It was after long waiting that he got his first appointment ; and that appointment was the German mastership at Miss ]\Iain's school. At the jn-esent moment he believed he had forfeited this one chance. He came forward to her ; and she might have seen that there was something very like tears in his pale l^lue eyes. " Yes, she has told you, and it is quite true," said he, throwing out his hands. " What can I say ? But if you will forgif it, I w'ill apolochise to her — I was mad — I do not know how T haf said soch a ting to a young lady, but I will apolochise to her, Meess Main " Miss ]\Iain had pulled hereelf together by this time. •' Really, I do not know what to do with her. Dr. Siedl," said she, in a sort of despairing way. " I have no doubt she irritated you beyond endurance ; and although I am afraid you must apologise to her, I can (juite understand how you were maddened by her. Sometimes, I do think she is a devil ; that she has no human soul in her. She tliinks of nothing but mischief from morning till night ; and the worst of it is, that she leads the whole school into mischief, for all the girls appear to be fascinated by her, and will do anything she asks. I don't understand it. You know how often I have threatened her with expulsion : ''YOU DEVIL!'' 3 she does not mind. Sometimes I think I must really get rid of her ; for it is almost impossible to preserve the discipline of the school while she is in it." The German master -was so overjoyed to find his own position secm'ed and his offence practically condoned that he grew generous. " And she is so clafer," said he. *' Clever ? " repeated the schoolmistress. " During the whole of my twenty -five years' experience in schools I have never seen a scholar to equal her. There is nothing she cannot do when she takes it into her head to do it. You saw how she ran up her marks in French and Gennan last term — and almost at the end of the term — merely because she had a spite against Miss Wolf, and was determined she should not have the two prizes that she expected. And that is another part of the mischief she does. Whenever she takes a special liking to a girl, she does her exercises for her in the evening. It costs her no trouble ; and then she has them ready to go with her in every frolic. I am sure I don't know what to do with her." The schoolmistress sighed. " You see," she added, with a frank honesty, ** it is naturally a great thing for a school like mine to have the daughter of Sir Acton North in it. Everybody has heard of him ; then the girls go home and tell their mothers that a daughter of Lady North is at our school ; then the mothers — you know wliat some people are — talk of tliat to their friends, and speak of Lady North as if they had known her all their lives. I do not know Lady North myself, but I am sure she is a wise woman not to have this girl in tiie same house with her." After a few words more, !Miss Main went back to the schoolroom ; and we must do likewise, to narrate what had befallen in her absence. First of all it was the invidious duty of a small, fair-haired, gentle-eyed girl, called Amy AVarrener, to take a slate and write down on it the names of any of her comjjanions who spoke while IMiss ]\raiM was out of the room, failing to do which she was deprived of her marks for the day. Now, on this oc(^asioii, a consider- able tumult arose, and the little girl, looking frightened, nn'l pretty nearly ready to cry, did not know wlmt to do. 11 '2. 4 MADCAP VIOLET " Yes, you mean, spiteful little thing 1 " cried a big, fat roseate girl, called ({eorgina Wolf, "put down all our names, do ! I've a good mind to box your ears ! " She menaced the little girl, but only for a brief second. With a rapid " ILive you really ? " another young lady — ■ the talk'st in the school — appeared on the scene ; and Miss Wolf received a ringing slap on the side of her head, which made her jump back, shrieking. The school was awe- struck. Never had such a thing occurred before. But presently one girl laughed ; then another ; then there was a general titter over Miss Wolf's alarm and discomfiture ; during which the tall young lady called out — • " Amy Warrener, put us all down, and me at the head ; for we are going to have a little amusement. Young ladies, shall I deliver a lecture to you on Old Calabar and our sewing-class ? Young ladies, shall we have a little music ? " She had suddenly assumed the prim demeanour of Miss Main. With great gravity she walked over to the door, locked it, and put the key in her pocket. Then she went to her own desk, smuggled something into a light shawl, and proceeded to the mistress's table, behind which she took her stand. "Young ladies," «jhe said, pretending to look at them through an imaginary pair of eye-glasses, " you are aware that it is the shocking practice of the little boys and girls in many districts of Africa to go about without clothes ; and you are aware of the Camberwell Society for helping the missionaries to take out a few garments to these poor little things. Now, my dears, it is a useful thing for a seminary like mine to gain a reputation for being charitable ; and if we manage amongst ourselves to send from month to month parcels of beautifully-sewn garments, everyone must get to know how well I teach you, my dears, to handle your needle. But then, my dears, you must not all expect to join in this good work. You all get the credit of being charitable ; but some of you are not so smait Avith your needle as others ; and so I think it better to have the sewing of these garments entrusted to one or two of you, who ought to feel proud of the distinction. Do you under- stand me, my dears ? Now some of you, I have no doubt, ''YOU DEVIL r' 5 would like to see what sort of young people wear the beautiful dresses which your pocket-money and your industry send out to Africa. I have here the little pink frock which you, Miss MoiTison, finished yesterday ; and if you will grant me a moment's patience — " She took the pink frock from the table, and for a second or two stooped down behind the table-cover. When she rose, it appeared that she had smuggled a large black doll into the school ; and now the black and curly head of the doll surmounted the pink cotton garment with its white frills. There was a yell of laughter. She stuck the doll on the edge of the table ; she put a writing-desk behind it to support it ; she hit it on the side of the head when it did not sit straight. An indescribable tumult followed : all possible consecjuences were cast aside. " Now, my deara, what hymn shall we sing to entertain the little stranger ? Shall it be ' Away dowi south in Dixie ' .? " The school had gone mad. With one accord the girls began to shout the familiar air to any sort of words, led by the tall young lady behind the table, who flourished a ruler in place of a baton. She did not know the words herself ; she simply led the chorus with any sort of phrases. "Oh it's Dixie's land tliat I was born in, Early on a frosty morning, In tlio land! In tho land! In the land I In tho land ! " " A little more spirit, my dears I A little louder, if you please 1 " ** Oh I wish I was in Dixie, oho ! oho i In Dixift's land to <;ilcf my stand, And livo and dio in Dixic'd land, Oho I Oho ! Awny down Koutli in Dixie!" " That's Ixttcr. Xow [lianisHuno — the sadness of tliink- ing al)out Dixie —you understand ? " They sang it softly ; and she jjretended to wipe the eyes of tho negro doll in the pink drcBS. " Now, fortissimo ! " she cried, flourishing her baton. 6 MADCAP VIOLET " Going, going, for the last time. Take the word from me, my deare 1 " "Oh I wiah I was in Dixie, Olio ! Oho ! In Dixie's land to take my stand, And live and dio iu Dixie's land, Olio 1 Olio ! Away down South in Dixie I " But the singing of tliis verse had been accompanied hy certain strange noises. " Open tlie door, ]\Iiss Xortli, or I will break it open ! " called the mistress from without, iu awful tones. '• My dears, resume your tasks — instantly ! " said Miss Violet North ; and with that she snatched the doll out of the pink costume, and hurriedly flung it into her private desk. Then she walked to the door alone. The hubbub had instantly subsided. All eyes were bent upon the books before them ; but all ears were listening for the dreadful interview between Violet North and the schoolmistress. The tall young girl, having made quite sure that her companions were quiet and orderly, opened the door. The mistress marched in in a terrible rage — in such a rage that she could hardly speak. " Miss North," she cried, " what is the meaning of this disgraceful uproar ? " '* Uproar, Miss IMain ? " said she, with innocent wonder. " The young ladies are very (juiet." " What is the meaning of your having bolted this door — how dare you bolt the door ? " " Yes, I thought tliere was something the matter with the lock," she answered, scanning the door critically. "But you ought not to be vexed by that. And now 1 will bid you good morning." Thus she saved herself from being expelled. She coolly walked into an adjacent room ; put on her hat ; took her small umbrella ; and went out. As it was a pleasant morning, she thought she would go for a walk. CARPE DIEM 7 CHAPTER II. CARPE DIEM, This girl was as stnught as a dart ; and she knew how to suit her costume to her fine figui'e, her bright and clear complexion, and her magnificent black hair. She wore a tight-fitting, tight-sleeved di'ess of grey homespun, and a grey hat with a scarlet feather — this bold dash of red being the only bit of pronounced colour about her. There was no self-conscious trickery of ornament visible on her costume — indeed, there was no self -consciousness of any sort about tlie girl. She had a thoroughly pagan delight in the present moment. The past was nothing to her ; she had no fear of the futm-e ; life was enjoyable enough from hour to hour, and she enjoyed it accordingly. She never paused to consider how handsome she was, for she was tolerably indifferent as to what other people thought of her. She was well-satisticd with herself, and well-satisfied with the world — especially when there was plenty of fun going about ; her fine health gave her fine spirits ; her bold, careless, self-satisfied nature took no heed of criticism or reproof, and caused her to laugh at the ordinary troubles of girl-life ; not even this great fact that she had practically run away from school was sufficient to upset her superb equanimity. Imessit reijina. There was nothing of the gawky and shambling school-girl in her free, frank step, and her erect and grticefid carriage. AVhen she met cither man or woman, she looked him or her straight in the face ; then ])robably turned her eyes away indifferently to regard the flight of a rook, or the first blush of rose-colour on a red hiiwthoru. F(jr, on leaving school. Miss Xorth f'unnd Ikt- self in the higher reaches of Camberwell Grove, and in this richly-wooded district the glad new life of the S})ring was visible in the crisp, uncurled leaves of tlie chestnuls, in the soft green of the mighty elms, and in the white and pin-ple of the lilacs in the gardens of the (juaint, old-fashioned houfica. Never had any spring come to us so (|uiclsly as that one. All England had lain black and cold nndrr (li(> 8 MADCAP VIOLET t;rili of a liard and tenacious winter ; oven the end of ^larch found us witli hitter east winds, icy roads, and leailoss trees. Then all of a sudden came south winds and warm rains ; and the wet, grey skies parted at times to give us a brilliant glimpse of blue. The work of trans- formation was magical in its swiftness. Far away in secret places the subtle fire of the earth upsprang in pale primroses, in sweet violets, and in the glossy and golden celandine that presaged tlie coming of buttercups into the meadows. The almond trees, even in suburban gardens, shone out with a sudden glow of pink and purple. The lilac bushes opened tlieir green leaves to the warm rains. The chestnuts unclasped their resinous buds. And then, with a great wild splendour of l)lue sky and sunlight, the bountiful, mild, welcome s])]'iug came fully upon us ; and all the world was iillcd witli the laden blossoms of fruit-trees, and the blowing of soft winds, and the singing of thrushes and blackbirds. To be abroad on such a morning was better than sitting over an Italian exercise in Miss Main's schoolroom. *' What sort of tree is that ? " Miss Violet North asked of a little boy : a particular tree in one of the old-fashioned gardens had struck her fancy. " Dunnow," said the boy, sulkily. " Then why don't you know, you little donkey, you ! " she said, indilferently passing on. She crossed Grove Lane, and went along the summit of Champion Hill, under the shade of a magnificent row of chestnuts. Could leaves be greener, could the sweet air be sweeter, could the fair spring sunshine be more brilHant in the remotest of English valleys ? Here were country- looking houses, with sloping gardens, and little fancy farms attached ; here were bits of woodland, the remains of the primeval forest, allowed to grow up into a sort of wilderness ; here were rooks flying about their nests, and thrushes busy on the warm green lawns, and blackbirds whirring from one laurel-bush to another. She walked along to the end of this thoroughfare until she came to a lane which led abruptly down hill, facing the south. Far away below her lay the grceu meadows of Dulwich ; and beyond the trees, and looking pale and spectral in the glare of the heat, rose the towers of the Crystal Palace. That CARPE DIEM 9 was enough. She had nothing particular to do. Walking was a delight to her on such a morning. Without any- specific resolve she indolently set out for the Crystal Palace. There was indolence in her purpose, but none in her gait. She walked smartly enough down the steep and semi- private thoroughfare which is called Green Lane ; she crossed the pleasant meadows by the narrow pathway ; she got out upon the Dulwich road, and so continued her way to the Palace. But she was not to reach the goal of her journey without an adventure. She was just passing the gateway leading up to a large liouse when a negro-page, very tall, very black, and wearing a bottle-green livery, with scarlet cuffs and collar, came out of the garden into the road, followed by a little terrier. The appearance of this lanky black boy anuised her ; and so, as a friendly mark of recognition, she drew her mnbrella across the ground in front of the terrier just as she was passing, and said, " Pfst ! " But this overture was instantly rejected by the terrier, which turned upon her with voluble rage, yelping, barking, coming nearer and nearer, and threatening to spring upon her. For a second she retreated in dismay ; then, as she saw that tlie negro-boy was more frightened than herself, she became wildly angry. " Why don't you take your dog away 1 " she cried ; " you — you stick of black sealing-wax ! " In this moment of dire distress help came to her from an unexpected quarter. A young gentleman (piickly crossed the road, approached the irate terrier from the rear, and gave the animal a sharp cut with his walking-stick. The I'apidity of this flank movement completely took the terrier l)y surprise ; with a yelp, more of alarm and astonishment than of pain, it lied into the garden and was seen no more. Violet North looked up — and now her face was con- sciously red, for she had been ignominiously caught in a fright. " 1 am 8on-y you should have been alarmed," said the young man ; and he had a ])leasant voice. " Yes, the nasty little brute ! " said she ; and then recol- lecting tliat that was not tin; manner in whicii a stranger should be addressed, she said, " I thank you very much for driving the dog away — it was very kind of you," lo MADCAP VIOLET " Oh, it was nothing:," said he ; "I am very glad I hap- pened to 1)0 by." lie lilted his hat, said, " Good morning I " and passed on in front of lier. She looked after him. Had she ever seen so handsome, 80 beautiful a young man ? Never ! Just at the ])resent moment several of our English artists are very foud of painting a particular type of feminine beauty — a woman with a low and broad forehead, large, indolent, sleepy blue eyes, thin cheeks, short upper lip, full under lip, somewhat stpiare jaw, and magnificent throat. Tt is a beautiful head enough — languid, unintellectual, semi- sensuous, but beantifid. Now this young man was as near as possible a masculine version of that indolent, beautiful, mystic-eyed woman whose face one meets in dusky corners of drawing-rooms, or in the full glare of exhibitions. He was no mere roseate youth, flabby-cheeked and curly-locked, such as a school-girl might try to paint in crude water- colours. His appearance was striking ; there was some- thing refined, special, characteristic about his features ; and, moreover, he had not cropped his hair as our modern youths are wout to do — the short wavy locks of light brown nearly reached his shirt-collar. For the rest he was sparely built, perhaps about five feet eight, square-shouldered, light and active in figure. Was there any harm in a school-girl admitting to herself that he was a very good-looking young man ? Walking about the Crystal Palace by one's-self is not the most exciting of amusements. The place was very familiar to Miss North ; and she had lost interest in the copper- coloured aborigines, and in the wonderful pillar of gold, lint she had one little bit of enjoyment. She caught sight of a small boy, who, when noljody was looking, was trying to " job " one of the cockatoos with the end of a toy-whip. Well, also when nobody was looking, she took occasion to get behind this little boy, and then she gave him a gentle push, which was just sufiicient to let the cockatoo, making a downward dip at his enemy's head, pull out a goodly tuft of hair. There was a frightful squeal of alarm from the boy ; but in a second she was round in some occult his- torical chamber, studying with becoming gravity the lessons taught us Ijy the tombs of kings. CARPE DIEM II Then she became very hungry, and she thought she would go and have some luncheon. When she entered the dining-room she was a little shy — not much ; but she was speedily attended by a friendly old waiter, who quite put her at her ease. When he asked her what she would take, she was on the point of answering, " Cold beef, if you please," as she would have done at school, but she suddenly bethought herself that, being in a restaurant, she might have something better, and so she asked for the bill of fare, scanned it, and finally ordered an oyster ^7«/e and a couple of lamb cutlets, with green peas and tomatoes. " And what will you take to diink, miss ? " said the old waiter. " Some water, thank you," she said ; but directly after- wards she added, " Wait a moment — I think I will take a glass of sherry, if you please." So the waiter departed : and she turned to glance at her surroundings. The first thing she noticed, much to her surprise and mortification, was that she had inadvertently sat down at the table at which, on the opposite side and further along, the young man was having lunch to whom she had spoken in the morning. She was annoyed. What must he think of a young lady who went wandering about the country l)y herself, and coolly Avalked into restaurants to order cutlets and sherry ? It was rather a strange cir- cumstance that Miss North shoidd be troubled by this con- jecture ; for she rarely, if ever, paid the least attention to what people might think of her ; but on this occasion she began to wish she might have some opportunity of explain- ing her conduct. The opportunity occurred. That friendly old waiter had apparently forgolien the order ; anyhow, the girl sate there patiently, and nothing was brought to her. She wished to attract the attention of the waiter, and made one or two attempts, but failed. Seeing the plight she was in, tlie young gentleman on the other side of the table made bold to address her, and said — " I beg your ]»ard(jn, but I fear tlioy are not attending to you. Will you allow me to S]x,'ak to one of the waiters ? " "I wish you would," she said, l)luHhing a little liit. The young man walked off and got hold of the manager, 12 MADCAP VIOLET to wlioiii he made lii;^ coinplaint. Tlicn he came back ; and Aliss North was more anxious than ever to justify her- self in his eyes. Tlie notion was becoming (|uite desperate tliat he nii_ti:ht go away thinking she knew so httle of pro- priety as to be in the habit of frequenting restaurants all by herself. *' 1 am very much obliged to you — again," she said, with something of an embarrassed smile. " I believed they meant to punish me for going away from school." " From school ? " said he, doubtfully ; and he drew his chair a little nearer. " Yes," said she, resolved at any cost to put herself right in his opinion. " I ought to have been at school. I — I walked away — and one gets hungry, you know. I — I thought it was better to come in here." " Oh yes, certainly," said he ; " why not ? " " I have always been left a good deal to myself," said this anxious young lady, leading up to her firaiid coup. " My father is always away looking after railways, and I dislike my stepmother, so that I am never at home. Of course you have heard of my father's name — Sir Acton North ? " Now she was satisfied. He would know she was not some giddy maid-servant out for a holiday. She uttered the words clearly, so that there should be no mistake, and perhaps a trifle proudly ; then she waited for him to with- draw his chair again and resume his luncheon. But he did nothing of the sort. " Oh yes," said he, with a respectful earnestness, " every- one has heard of Sir Acton North. I am very pleased that — that I have been of any little service to you. I daresay, now, you have heard of my father too — George Miller ? " "No, I have not," she said, seriously, as though her ignorance of that distinguished name were a grave blot on her bringing up. "Well, you know," said the handsome young man, meekly, " he is pretty well known as a merchant, but better known as a Protestant. lie takes the chairs at meetings, and gives big subscriptions, and all that kind of thing. I believe the Pope can't sleep in his bed o' nights on account of him." "i — I think I have heard of him," said Miss North, CARPE DIEM 13 conscious that she ought to know something of so import- ant a person. At this point she was distinctly of opinion that the con- versation should cease. Young ladies are not supposed to talk to young gentlemen to whom they have not been intro- duced, even although they may have heard of each other's parents as being distinguished people. But George ]\Iiller the younger seemed a pleasant young man, who had a frank smile, and an obvious lack of stiffness and circumspection in his nature. They had brought her the oyster j;a^e ; now came the cutlets. " That was the mistake you made," said he, venturing to smile. " When you are in a hurry you should not order out-of-the-way things, or they are sure to keep you waiting." *' I never came into a restaurant by myself before," she said, with some asperity : would this foolish young man persist in the notion that she habitually ordered luncheon in such a fashion ? " What school was it you left, may I ask ? " said he, with a friendly interest in his eyes. " Oh ! " she answered, with a return to her ordinary careless manner, "]\Iiss Main's Seminary in Camberwell Crove. I knew she was going to expel me. We had had a little amusement when she was out of the room — a little too much noise, in fact — and though she has often threat- ened to expel me, I saw by her face she meant mischief tliis time. 80 I left. What a pleasant morning it was for a walk ! " •' Yes," said he, looking rather puzzled ; " but — but — wliat are you going to do now ? " " Now ? Oh, 1 don't know 1 There will be plenty of time for me to settle where I am going when I get back to town." " Arc you going back to London all liy yourself ? " " I came here l^y myself : why not ? " " Well," said he, with some real anxiety, " it is rather an unusual tiling for a young lady to be going about like that. I think you ought to to go home " " My father is in Yorkshire ; I would rather not go to ROC my stepmother. We should have ratlicr a warm even- ing of it, 1 imagine," she added frankly. 14 MADCAP VIOLET "Where, then ?" "Oh, I know where to pfo 1 " she said, indifferently. " There is a little girl at the school whom I am very fond of, and she is very fond of me ; and she and her motlicr live with her nnclo in Canihorwcll Grove, not far from the school. Tiicy will take me in, 1 know ; they are very kind people." By this time she had finished her luncheon— the younff man had neglected his altog'ether — and she asked the waiter for her bill. She certainly had plenty of money in her purse ; she gave the old gentleman who had systematically not attended to her a shilling for himself. " Would you allow me to see you into a carriage," timidly suggested Mr. George Miller, "if you are going up by rail'?" " Oh no 1 " she said, with a sweet smile. " I can take care of myself." Which was true. "Then," said he, "Miss North, I am afraid I cannot claim you as an acquaintance — because— because our meet- ing has been rather — rather informal, as it were ; but would you allow me, supposing I were introduced to your father " , „ " Oh, I should like you to know my father well enough, said she, honestly. "That was not exactly what I meant," said he. "I meant that if I got to know your father, that would be a sort of equivalent — don't you think ? — to a formal intro- duction to you." The girl very nearly burst out laughing. " I think we are pretty well introduced already," said she, " by means of a terrier-dog and a stupid waiter. Thank you very much for your kindness. Good-afternoon ! " 8he was going away with her ordinary erect carriage and careless bearing, when he suddenly put out his hand to shake hands with her. She had risen by this time. Well, she could not be guilty of the discourtesy of a refusal ; and so she allowed him to shake hands with her. " I hope tliis is not the last time we shall meet," said he,' with an earnestness which rather surprised her, and which she did not fail to remember when she got into the quiet A SUBURBAN PHILOSOPHER ij corner of a rail-«-ay carriage. Did he really wish to see het again ? Was there a chance of their meeting ? "What would properly-couducted people say of her advent lu-es of that morning ? She did not care much. She got out at Denmark Hill Station, and placidly walked up to the house of Mr. James Dnunmond, which was situated near the top of Camberwell Grove. CHAPTER III. A SUBUEBAN PHILOSOPHER. This house was rather like a toy-cottage— a long, low, rambling place, with a veranda all round ; ivy trained up the pillars ; French windows ; small peaked ga])les ; some few trees and bushes in front, and a good garden behind. Miss North did not wait for an answer to her summons. She bethought herself that she would be sure to find Mr. Drummond, or his widowed sister Mrs. Warrener, or his niece Amy Warrener, in the garden ; and so she made her way by a side path to the back of the house. Here, indeed, she found ^Ir. Drummond. He was seated in the veranda, in a big reading chair ; one leg was crossed over the other ; he was smoking a long clay pipe ; but instead of improving his mind with a book, he was simply idling and di-eaming — looking out on the bushes and the blossom-laden trees, over which a dusky red sky was now beginning to biu'u. He jumped up from his seat Avhen he saw her, and rather unwisely began to laugh. He was a tall, thin, somewhat ungainly man, with curiously irregular features, the ex- pression of which seldom remained the same for a couple of Beconds together. Yet there was somethiug attractive about this strange face — about its keen, vivacious iutclli- ffencc and its mobile tendency to laugh ; and there was no don1)t about the fine character of the eyes — full, dear, (|uick to apprehend, and yet soft and winning. Violet North had a great liking and regard for tliis friend of hers ; but sometimes she stood a little in awe of liim. She could not altogether follow his quick, playful humour ; she was always suspecting sarcasm behind liis drolleries ; it was 1 6 MADCAP VIOLET clear to liov tlmt, whatever waa heiiii,^ talked about, lie saw I'ar more than she or anylxxly else saw, for he would suddenly buret into a prodii^nous roar of merriment over some point or other wholly invisible to her or to his sister. The man, indeed, had all the childish fun of a man of <,amius ; and a man of fjcnius he undoubtedly was, though he had never done anythinsj to show to the world, nor was likely to do anything. Early in life he had been cursed by an inheritance of somewhere about GOO/, a year. He was incurably indolent — that is to say, his brain was on the hop, skip, and jump from morning till night, performing all manner of intellectual feats for his own private amusement ; but as for any settled work, or settled habits, he would have nothing of either, lie was a very unworldly person — careless of the ordinary aims of the life around him :, but he had elaborated a vast amount of theories to justify his indolence. He belonged to a good family ; he never called on his rich or distinguished relatives. At college he was celebrated as a brilliant and ready debater, and as a capri- cious, whimsical, but altogether delightful conversationalist ; he was fairly studious, and obviously clear-headed ; yet no one ever left a university with less of glory surrounding him. He had a large nmnbcr of friends, and they aU loved him ; but they knew his faults. He had no more notion of time than a bird or a butterfly ; he was scarcely ever known to catch the train for which he set out : but then, what ill-temper on the part of a companion could with- stand the perfectly happy fashion in which he would pro- ceed to show that a railway-station was an excellent place for reflection ? Then he had a bewildering love of paradox — especially puzzling to a certain ingenuous young lady who sometimes sat and mutely listened to his monologues. Then he was very unfair in argument ; he would patiently lead his opponent on in the hope that at last this un- principled controversialist was about to be driven into a corner — when lo ! there was some sort of twitch about the odd face, a glimmer of humour in the fine eyes, and with some preposterous joke he was off, like a squirrel up a tree, leaving his antagonist discomfited below. He led his sister a hard life of it. The pale, little, fair- haired woman had a great faith in her brother ; she A SUBURBAN PHILOSOPHER 17 believed him to be the best and the cleverest man that ever lived ; and no one with less good nature than herself could have listened patiently to the whimsical extravagances of this incorrigible talker. For the worst about him was that he made remarks at random — suggested by the book he was reading, or by some passing circiuustance — and then, when his puzzled interlocutor was trying to comprehend him, he was off to something else, quite unconscious that he had left the other a continent or a century behind him. Some- times, indeed, he made a -nild cifort to show that this or that abrupt observation was a 2^)'opos to something — which it never was. " Do you know," he Avoidd say to his patient sister, " I fancy I see something in Fawcett of a sort of political Shelley." A moment's silence. "Yes, James," his sister would say, seriously, "but in what way ? " Another moment's silence. " Oh, about Fawcett ? Well, I was thinking, do you know, that if the House of Commons were to introduce a Bill securing universal suffrage, this little terrier here would die of despair and disgust. That is the one weak point about dogs — you can't convey to them any impression of moral grandeur. It is all line clothes with them, and gentlemanly appearance — the virtues hidden beneath a shabby costume are unknown to them. Frosty, here, would wag her tail and welcome the biggest swindler that ever brouglit out sham companies ; but she would be sus- picious of the houest workman ; and she would snap at the calves of the most deserving of beggars. Sarah, you really must cease that habit of yours of indiscriminate almsgiving — fancy the impostors you must be encouraging " His sister opened Iht eyes in mild jirotest. " Why, it was only yesterday you gave that old Frenchman half-a- ero wn " "Well," said he, uncomfortably, "well — you sec— T tliouglit that — that even if he was shamming, he looked such an unfortunate poor devil — but that is only a single ca.se. There is a systematic outrage on your part, Sarah, of the common principles of prudence " l8 MADCAP VIOLET " You do it far more thau I do," she said, with a quiet lau2:h ; and so she went her way, only she had got no infornuitiou as to how IMr. Fawcctt resembled a political Shelley. Only one word needs to be added at present to this hasty and imperfect descriittion of a bright and sparkling hiunan individuality, the thousand facets of which could never be seen at once and from the same stand-point. There was no jealousy in the man's nature of men who were more suc- cessfid in the world than himself. He had a sort of pro- fession — that is to say, he occasionally wrote articles for this or that review. But he was far too capricious and uncertain to be entrusted with any sustained and continuous work ; and, indeed, even with incidental work, he frequently vexed the soid of the most indulgent of editors. No one could guess what view of a particular book or question he might not take at a moment's notice. Of course, if it had not been for that fatal 600/. a year, he might have been put in harness, and accomplished some substantial work. Even if he had had any extravagant tastes, something in that way might have been done ; but the little household lived very economically (except as regards charity and the continual giving of presents to friends), its chief and im- portant expense being the cost of a long and happy holiday in the autumn. There was no jealousy, as I have said, in Drummond's nature over the success of more practical men ; no grudging, no detraction, no spite. The fire of his life burnt too keenly and joyously to have any smoke about it. " Mind you," he would say — always to his consentient audience of one, " it is a serious thing for a man to en- deavour to become famous. He cannot tell until he tries — and tries for years — whether there is anything in him ; and then, look at the awful risk of failure and life-long dis- appointment. You see, when once you enter the race for fame or for great riches, you can't very well give in. You're bound in honour not to give in. The presence of rivals all round you — and what is stronger still, the envious cavilling of the disappointed people, and the lecturing you get from the feebler .Jabberwocks of criticism — all that kind of thing must, I should fancy, drive a man on in spite of himself. But don't you think it is wiser for people who are not ►-■ A SUBURBAN PHILOSOPHER 19 thrust into the race by some imnsual consciousness of power to avoid it altogether and live a quieter and more peaceable hfe ? " Sarah did think so ; she was always sure that her brother was right, even when he flatly contradicted himself, and he generally did that half-a-dozen times in the day. " Well, Miss Violet," he said to the young lady who had suddenly presented herself before him. " I hear you have rather distinguished yourself to-day." "Yes," she said, with an embarrassed laugh, "I believe I have done it this time." " And what is your next step ? " " I don't know." " And don't care, perhaps ? " " Not much." He shrugged his shouldei-s. But at this moment his sister came through tlie small drawing-room into the veranda ; and there was far more concern visible on her face. ilr. Drummond seemed to have but a speculative interest in this curious human phenomenon, but his sister had a vivid affection for the girl who had befriended her daughter at school and become her sworn ally and champion. Both of them, it is true, were considerably attracted towards Hiss North. To him there was something singularly fascinating in her line unconscious enjoyment of the mere fact of living, in her audacious frankness, and even in the shrewd, clear notions about things that had got into her flchool-girl brain. In many respects this girl was more a woman of the world than her gentle friend and timid adviser, l^frs. Warrener. As f(jr .Mrs. "Warrencr, she liad almost grown to love this bold, frank, sincere, plaiu-spukcu compaTiion of her daughter ; but she derived no amusement, as her brother did, from the girl's wild ways and love of fun, which occasionally made her rather anxious. To her it was not always a laughing matter. " Oh, Violet," she said, " what have you been about this time ? "What can wi; do for you ? " "Well, not very much, i am afraid," was the rueful answer. Apparently Miss Violet was ratlier ashamed of lier ex- ploit ; and vet there was a curious, half-concealed, comic 2 20 MADCAP VIOLET expression about the face of the penitent which did not betoken any p-eat self-abasement. " Shall I take you home ? " said James Drummond, " and get your parents to come over and intercede for you ? " " No," she said, " that would be no use ; my father is in Yorkshire." " But Lady North ? " " I should like to see my stepmother go out of lier way the length of a yard on my account ! She never did like nie ; but she has hated me worse than ever since Euston Square." " Euston S(]uare ? " " Yes," continued the girl, " don't you know that I am a sort of equivalent for Euston Square ? " " This is becoming serious," said Mr. Drummond ; " if you are about to amuse us with conundrums we had better all sit down. Here is a chair for you. Sarah, sit down. A;. J so you were saying that you were an equivalent, Miss Violet ? " "Yes," she observed, coolly folding her hands on her knees. " It is not a very long story. You know my step- mother was never a very fashionable person. Her father — well, her father built rows of cheap villas in the suburl)s, on speculation ; and he lived in Highbury ; and he told you the price of the wines at dinner — you know the kind of man. But when she married my father " — there was always a touch of pride in the way !^Iiss North said " my father " — " she had a great notion of getting from Highbury to Park Lane, or Palace Gardens, or Lancaster Gate, or some such place, and having a big house and trying to get into society. Well, you see, that would not suit my father at all. He almost lives on railways ; he is not once a week in London ; and he knows Euston Square a good deal better than Belgravia. So he proposed to my stepmother that if she would consent to have a house in Euston Square, for his convenience, he would study her convenience and comfort by allowifig me to remain permanently at a boarding-school. Do you see ? I can tell you I rejoiced when I heard of that bargain ; for the house that my stepmother and I were in was a good deal too small for both of us. Yet I don't think she had always the best of it." A SUBURBAN PHILOSOPHER ' 21 This admission was made so modestly, simply, and imconscioiLsly, that Mr. Drmnmond burst into a roar of laughter, while his sister looked a trifle shocked. " What did you do to her ? " said he. "Oh, women can always find ways of annoying each other, when they wish it," she answered, coolly. " Well," said Mr. Drummond, " we must see what can he done. Let us have a turn in the garden, and talk over this pretty situation of alTairs," They descended the few steps. Mrs. Warrencr linked the girl's arm in hers, and took her quietly along the narrow garden path, James Drummond walking beside them on the lawn. There was a strange contrast between the two women — the one tall, straight and lithe as a willow wand, proud-lipped, frank, happy, and courageous of face, with all the hght of youth and strength shining in her eyes ; the other tender, small, and wistful, with sometimes an anxious and apprehensive contraction of the brows. By the side of those two the philosopher walked — a long and lanky person, stooping somewhat, talking a good deal of nonsense to tease his companions, ready to explode at a moment's notice into a great burst of hearty and genuine laughter, and ready at the same time to tender any sacrifice, however great, that this girl could claim of him, or his sister suggest. For the rest, it was a beautiful evening in this still and secluded suburban garden. The last flush of rose-red was dying out of the sky, over the groat masses of Ijlossom on the fruit-trees. There was a cooler feeling in the air ; and the sweet odour of the lilac- bushes seemed to l)ecome still more prevailing and sweet. "Don't look on mc as an encumbrance," said Miss Nortli, frankly. " I only came to you for a bit of advice. I shall pull through somohow." "We shall never look upon you as an encumbrance, dear," said Mrs. Warrcnor, in her kindly way. " You know you can always come and stay with us, if the worst comes to tlic worst." "I think that would be the worst coming to the best," said the girl, demurely. " My notion," said Mr. Drummond, trying to catch at a butterfly tiiat was obviously getting liomc in a hurry—" is 22 MADCAP VIOLET that yon onftlit to give Miss Main a night to cool down her Avrath ; and then in the morning I will go ronnd and intercede for you. I suppose you are prepared to apologize to her." " Oh yes," IMiss North said, but not with the air of a conscious sinner. " j\liss j\lain, I fancy now," continued tlie philosopher, " is the sort of woman who would be easily pacified. So far as I have seen her, there is little pretence about her, and no vanity. It is only very vain people, yon will find, who are easily mortified and implacable in their resentment. The vain man is continually turning his eyes inwards and addressing himself thus — ' Sir, I most humbly beg your pardon for having brought discomfiture and ridicule on so august and important a personage as yourself.' He is always worshipping that little idol within him ; and if anybody throws a pellet of mud at it, he will never forgive the insult. A vain man " " But about Miss Main, James ? " said his sister. She had never any scruple about interrupting him, if any business was on hand ; for she knew that, failing the interruption, lie would go wandering all over the world. " Oh yes — Miss Main. Well, Miss Main, I say, does not appear to be a morbidly vain person, likely to be implac- able. I think the best thing you can do is to stay with us to-night, and to-morrow morning I will go round to Miss Main, and try to pacify her " " I hope you won't laugh at her, James," his sister suggested. " My dear woman, I am the most diplomatic person in the world — as, for example : we are going in presently to dinner. Dinner without a fire in the grate is an abomination. Now, if I were to suggest to you to have a log of wood put on — a regular blazer, for the night is becoming chill — something to cheer us and attract the eyes, just as you always see the eyes of infants attracted by flames. And where is Amy ? " he added, suddenly. " I have no doubt," said Miss North, with humility, *' that Amy is being kept out of the way, so that she sha'n't meet a wicked person like me." " Indeed, no," said ]\rrs. Warrcner, though sometimes A SUBURBAN PHILOSOPHER 23 she certainly did not consider Miss Yiolet's conduct a good example for her daughter. " Amy is at her lessons ; she is coming in to dinner to-night." " Oh, do let me go and help her ! " said the visitor. " And I promise to tell her how bad I have been, and how I am never going to do so any more." So, for the time, the little party was broken up ; but it met again in a short time, in a quaint little room that was cheerfully lit, round a bright table, and in view of a big log that was blazing in the fireplace. The banquet was not a gorgeous one— the little household had the simplest tastes — but it was flavom-ed throughout by a friendly kindness, a good hiunour, a sly merriment that was altogether delightful. Then, after the frugal meal was over, they drew their chairs into a semi-circle before the fire — ]\Ir. Drmnmoud being enthroned in his especial reading-chair, and having his pipe brought him by his niece. Violet North was pretty familiar with those quiet, bright, talkative evenings in this little home ; and though at times she was somewhat perplexed by the paradoxes of the chief controversialist, she was not so much of a school- girl as not to perceive the fine, clear, intellectual fire that played about his idle talk like summer lightning, while all unconsciously to herself she was drinking in something of the charm of the great unworldliness of this little house- liold which promised to be of especial benefit to a girl of her nature. She did not always understand him ; but she was always delighted with him. If the quaint humour of some suggestion was rather too recondite for her, she could at least recognise the refiection of it in his face, with its curioas irregular lines. Sir Acton North was not aAvarc tliat bis daughter was attending two schools, and this one the more hnportant of the two. Here she saw nothing but gcntlcncsfl and tender helpfulness ; here she heard nothing l)ut generous critif^ism, and Inunorous excuses for human faults, and laughter witli no sting in it ; here she was taught nothing l>ut tcjlcration, and the sinking of self, and the beauty of all good and true things. Tlicn she did not know slie was bfing tanirht any more tlian her tcarhcrs knew they weru teaching her ; for one of them spoke to her only by way of her own example, which was that of all 24 MADCAP VIOLET sweetness and charity, and the other was so little of a lecturer that he shocked his own pupil hy his whimsical extravagances and incorrigible laughter. If, as Miss Main was convinced, this girl had no soul, she could not have come to a better place to get some sort of substitute. Next morning James l)rummond went iround and saw ]\Iiss ]\Iain. That patient, hard-working, and hardly-tried little woman confessed frankly that she herself wonld be (|uite willing to have Miss North come back, but she feared the eil'cct on her other pupils of pardoning so great an offence. However, Mr. Drimimond talked her over ; and an arrangement having been come to about the public apology ^liss North was to make, he went back home. Miss North had just come in breathless. She had run half a mile down hill, to the shops of Camberwell, and half a mile back, since he had gone out : she would not tell him why. Well, she went round to the seminary in due course ; and in the midst of an awful silence she walked up the middle of the floor to Miss Main's table. " Miss ]\Iain, I have to beg your pardon for my conduct of yesterday, and I wish to be allowed to apologize to the whole school." " You may go to your seat. Miss North," said the schoolmistress, who was a nervous little woman and glad to get it over. ]\riss North, with absolute calmness of feature, but with a suggestion of a latent laugh in her fine dark eyes, walked sedately and properly to her seat, and opened her desk. "With the lid well up she deposited inside a curious little collection of oddities she had taken from her pocket — including a number of little paper pellets, a small tin goblet, and a wooden monkey at the end of a stick. The pellets were crackers which she could jerk with her linger and thumb to any part of the room, and which exploded on falling. The toy goblet had a bit of string attached, and was intended for the cat's tail. The wooden monkey was an effigy to be suddenly presented to the school whenever Miss Main's back was turned. FLUTT BRINGS NEAR THE FLAME 25 These had been the object of Miss Violet's sudden race down to Camberwell and back ; so it was sufficiently clear that the young lady's remorse over her evil deeds was not of a very serious or probably lasting character. CHAPTER IV. FLUTTEEINGS NEAR THE FLAME. A SECRET rumour ran through the school that Violet North had not only got a sweetheart, but was also engaged in the composition of a novel. As regards the novel, at least, rumour was right ; and there is now no longer any reason for suppressing the following pages, which will give an idea of the scope and style of j\Iiss North's story. The original is ■WTitten in a clear, bold hand, and the lines are wide apart — so wide apart, indeed, that the observant reader can, if he chooses, easily read between them. " It was a beautiful morning in jMay, and the golden sunshine was flooding the emerald meadows of D , an ancient and picturesque village about two miles nearer London than the C P . Little do the inhabitants of that great city, who lend themselves to the glittering follies of fashion — little do they reck of the verdant beauties and the pure air which are to be had almost within the four-mile radius. It was on such a moi-ning that our two lovers met, far away from the haunts of men, and living for each other alone. In the distance was a highway leading up to that noble :::s*itution, the C P , and carriages rolled along it ; and at the front of the stately mansions high-born dames vaulted upon their prancing barbs and caracoled away towards the horizon.* Onr lovers paid no heed to such ])om))S and vanities ; they were removed above earthly things by the sweet companionship * This sentence, or the latter half of it, may rocnll a passage in n famous novel whicli was pwKliHlicd two or three years a;;o ; and I hasten to say tliat MIhs Nortli iiad really never reacl that work. The brilliant and diHtingni.shed autlmr of tln' iu)V(;l in ([McHlion Iimm so frequently heen acfused of i)la;^iari.'im wliirli was ahrioHt certainly unconseiouH, that I am sure ho will Hyiii|ia)liizo with this young aspirant, and acquit her of any intontiunul theft. 26 MADCAP VIOLET of congenial souls ; they lived in an atmosphere of their own, and breathed a delight which the callous votaries of fashion conld neither understand nor share. " Virginia Northbrook was the name of the one. Some would have called her rather goodlooking ; hut it is not of that we mean to boast. We would rather speak of the lofty poetry of her soul, and of her desire to be just and honourable, and to live a noble life. Alas ! how many of us can fulfil our wishes in that respect ? The snares and temptations of life i beset us on every side and dog our footsteps ; but enough of this moralising, gentle reader, we must get on with our story. " She was the daughter of a baronet, not a man of high lineage, but one on whom the eyes of the world were fixed. He had accelerated the industries of his native land in opening up stupendous commercial highways, and from all parts of the globe his advice was sought. Alas ! he was frequently away from home, and as his second wife was a ■wretched and mean-spirited creature, Virginia Northbrook may be considered to have been really an orphan. " The other of our two lovers was called Gilbert Mount- Dundas. Neither was he of high lineage ; but a grand nobility of nature was stamped on his forehead. His father had attained to great fame through his labours in the cause of benevolence and charity ; but it is not necessary to import him into our story. Gilbert Mount-Dundas was yet young ; but his mind was fired by great ambitions, and what more necessary to encourage these than the loving counsel and worship of a woman ? Ah, woman, woman, if you could understand how we men are indebted to you when you cheer us onward in the hard struggle of life ? A ministering angel thou, truly, as the poet writes. If thou couldst perceive the value which we place on thy assistance, then thou wouldst never be capricious, coy, and hard to please. Maifi revenons a nos moutons. "It would be a difficult, nay, an invidious task, to describe the manner in which our two lovers became acquainted with each other. Suffice it to say that, although the world might look coldly on certain informalities, their o^m souls informed them that they had no cause to blush for their mutual acquaintance, an acquaintance which had FLUTTERINGS NEAR THE FLAME 27 ripened into kno^vledge, esteem, and love ! Not for these two, indeed, was the ordinary commonplace history of a comtship and marriage ; which, as the gentle reader knows, is an introduction at a dinner-table, a lot of foolish conversation always under the eyes of friends, an engage- ment with everybody's knowledge and consent (induding the hiwi/er''s), and a marriage to be advertised in the newspapers ! Xo, no ! — there is still some romance in this cold and heartless world ; and, whatever harsh critics may say, we, for one, have no intention of blaming Gilbert Moimt-Dundas and Virginia Xorthbrook simply because, forsooth ! the whole host of their friends did not happen to be present. And yet — for who knows into whose hands these pages may not fall ? — we must guard against a misconception. We are not of those who scorn the ceremonies of our social life — far from it ; and wc would not be understood as recommending to the youth of both sexes a lofty contempt for the proper convenanres. Tout cm contraire. In our opinion a young lady cannot be too particular as to the acquaintances she makes ; and in fact the way some girls will giggle and look down when young gentlemen pass them in the street is shocking, and perfectly disgusting. They ought to remember they are not servant- maids on their Sunday out. A schoolmistress is not doing her duty who does not check such unladylike conduct at once ; and it is all nonsense for her to pretend that she does not sec it. I know very well she sees it ; but she is nervous, and afraid to interfere, lest the girls should simply deny it, and so place her at a disadvantage. "We will recur to this subject at a future time. " It was, alas ! bnt to say farewell tliat Virginia Nortli- ])rook and Gill)ert >Mouut-J)uudas had met. Such was the hard fate of two who had known the sweet companionship of love for a period far too short ; but destiny marches along with an iiiipitying stride, and wc jioor mortals are hurried along in tlie current. Tears stood in the maiden's eyes, and she would fain have fallen on her knees and besought liiin to remain ; but he was of iirmer mettle, and endeavoured to be cheerfiU, so that he might lessen the agony of their farewell. *" Oh, my Gilbert I' she exflaimed, 'wlun sliall T sec 28 MADCAP VIOLET you once more ? Your path is clouded over with danocrs ; and, scan as I may the future, I see no prospect of your retiu-n. Do you know that beautiful song which says — • ' Sliall wo walk tio more in tlio wind and tho rain, Till tho sea gives up her dead?' " He was deeply affected ; but he endeavoured to conceal his ^'rief with a smile. " ' What ! ' said he, in a humorous manner, ' when we meet I hope it won't be in wind and rain. We have had enough of both this spring,' " She regarded him with surprise ; for she saw not the worm that was corroding his heart under this mask of levity. And here it might be well to remark on the danger that is ever attendant on those who are ashamed of their emotions, and cloak them in a garb of indifference or mockery. Alas ! what sad mistakes arise from this cause. The present writer is free to confess that he is acquainted with a gentleman who runs a great risk of being misunder- stood by a hollow world through this inveterate habit. We^ believe that no truer-hearted gentleman exists than J — ■ — D , although he is not what a foolish school- girl would call an Adonis ; but how often he perplexes his best friends by the frivolous manner in which he says the very opposite of the thing which he really intends. It is very annoying not to know when a person is serious. If you make a mistake, and treat as serious Avhat is meant to be a joke, you look foolish, which is not gratifying even to the most Stoical-minded ; whereas, on the other hand, you may treat as a joke something that is really serious, and offend the feelings of persons whom you love. No, youthful reader, if I may be bold enough to assume that such will scan these pages, candour and straightforward speech ought to be your motto. Mcujna est Veritas, said the wise Roman. " How sadly now shone the sun on the beautiful meadows of D , and on the lordly spires of the C P , as our two lovers turned to take a last adieu. He was going away into the world, to conquer fame and fortune for both ; slie was about to be left behind, to nurse an aching heart. FLUTTERINGS NEAR THE FLAME 29 " ' Take this sixpence ; I have bored a hole in it,' observed Virginia. " He clasped the coin to his breast and smothered it Avith a thousand kisses. " ' j\Iy beloved Yirginia ! ' he cried, ' I will never part with it. It will remind me of you in distant lands, under the flaming skies of Africa, in the mighty swamps of America, and on the arid plains of Asia. Our friendship has been a brief one ; but, ah ! how sweet ! Once more, farewell, Virginia ! Be true to your vow ! ' " He tore himself away ; and the wretched girl was left alone. AVe must pursue her further adventm'es in om" next chapter." Here, then, for the present, end our quotations from Miss North's MS. work of fiction ; it is necessary to get back to the real facts of the case. To begin with, the relations between Violet North and the young gentleman whom she met on the Dulwich Road were much less intimate, tender, and romantic than those which existed between the lofty souls of Virginia Northbrook and Gilbert Mount-Dundas. Miss Main's young ladies were not allowed to go wandering about the country unattended by any escort, however brightly the sun might be shining on the emerald meadows, and on the towers of the C P . Those of them who were boarders as well as pupils were marched out in pairs, with Miss Main and ]\Iiss North at their head ; and no one who saw them would have imagined for a moment that the tall and handsome young lady was only a school-girl. When they were allowed to go and see their friends, their friends had to send someone for them. But to this rule there was one exception, which seemed innocent and trifling enough. Miss Main knew of the intimacy between Violet North and the inoLlur and uncle of little Amy AVarrener ; and she very warmly approved of it, for it promised to exercise a good influence over this incoiTigible girl. Tlien Mr. Drumiiiond's house was only about a dozen doors off; and when Miss Violet chose to go round and visit her friends in the after- noon, as she fre(|nently did, was it necessary that they should bo at the trouble of sending for her for such u 30 MADCAP VIOLET short distauce ? Mr. Drmiimond himself invariably accom- ]i!inicd her back to the school, and on those evcninc^s Miss .Main found that slic had less trouble with this dreadful pupil of hers. So it came about that George Miller on one or two occasions had the n'ood fortune to run against Miss North when she was actually walking out alone. On the lirst occasion she was just going into James Drummond's house, and she had turned round after knocking at the door. For a second the young man stopped, embarrassed and uncertain as to what he should do ; while she, looking rather amused, graciously and coolly bowed to him. He took off his hat ; and, at this moment, as the door was opened, his doubt was resolved, for, with a frank smile to him, she disappeared. On the next occasion he caught her a few yards farther down the Grove, and made bold to address her. He said rather timidly — ■ " "Won't you recognise our acquaintance, Miss North ? " " I do," she said, with her colour a bit heightened. " I bow to you when I see you. Isn't that enough ? " "If you were as anxious as I am to continue onr acquaintance " said he. " I am not at all anxious," she said, rather proudly, " not at aU anxious to continue it like this, anyway. You must get to know my friends if you wisli to know me." She was for moving on : but somehow he seemed to intercept her, and there was a great submission and entreaty in his downcast face. " But how can I, Miss North ? I have tried. TIow can I get an introduction to them ? " " How do I know ? " she said ; and then she bade him " Good afternoon," and passed on. Her heait smote her for a moment. Was it right to treat a faithful friend so ? But then she was not herself very sensitive to injury ; she did not suppose she had mortally wounded him ; and she speedily was rejoicing over the thought tliat tlie most faithful of friends ought to be put to the proof. If he was worth anything, he would bear wrong, he would overcome obstacles, he would do anything to secure and- perfect this idyllic and Platonic FLUTTERINGS NEAR THE FLAME H acquaintanceship. If he was only an ordinary young man, he had better go away. Mr. George Miller was only an ordinary young man ; but he did not go away. He had not been suddenly inspked by any romantic attachment for the young lady whom he had met in the Dulwich Road ; but he had been greatly struck by her good looks ; he was rather anxious to know some- thing more about her ; and then — for he was but twenty- two — there was even a spice of adventure in the whole affau-. She did not know how patiently and persistently he had strolled all about the neighbourhood in order to catch an occasional glimpse of her ; and how many after- noons he had paced up and down beneath those large ehns near the head of Camberwell Grove before he found out the hour when she generally paid her visit to Mr. Drummond's small household. It was some occupation for him ; and he had none other at present ; for his father was then looking out for some business a share in which he could purchase and present to his son in order to induce him to do some- thing. Mr. George Miller was not averse to that proposal. He had grown tired of idling, riding, walking, and playing billiards all day, and going out in the evening to dull dinnei-s at the houses of a particular clique of rich commercial people living about Sydenham Hill. It would be better, ho thought, to go into the city like everybody else ; and have a comfortable private room in the office, with cigars and sherry in it. Then he would have himself put up at one of the city clubs ; and have a good place for luncheon and an afternoon game of pool ; and make the acquaintance of a lot of blithe companions. He know a good many city men already ; they seemed to have an al)iindance of spirits and a good deal of time on their hands — 'from 1.30 onwards till it was time to catch the train and get home to dinner. Meanwhile this little adventure with a remarkably pretty girl piqued his curiosity about her ; and lie was aware that, if he did succeed in making her acquaintance, the friend- ship of the daughter of so distinguished a man as Sir Acton North WHS worth having. He did not go much furllur than that in his speculations. He did not, as eoino imaginative youths would have done, plan out a rorniintic marriatre. He had met, in an informal and curious way, a 32 MADCAP VIOLET siu.uiiliii'ly liiiiulsonic girl, whom he could not fail to adinire ; aiul there were just those trifling ohstaclcs in the way of gaining her friendship that made him all the more desirous to secure it. It does not occur to a somewliat matter-of-fact young man of twenty-two, who has good looks, good hcaltli, and ample provision of money, that he should sit down and anxiously construct the horoscope of his own future. To-day is a fine day in spring, and the life- hlood of youth runs merrily in the veins : to-morrow is with the gods. Yet he was vexed and disappointed when he left her on this second occasion. She was, he thought, just a little too independent in manner and hlunt of speech. He did not at all look at their relations from her point of view ; if she had told him that he ought to be her knight-errant and prove himself worthy by great sacrifices he would scarcely have understood what she meant. Indeed, a consciousness began to dawn on him that the young lady was a school-girl only in name ; and that there was a more definite character about her than is generally to be discovered in a young Miss who is busy with her Italian verbs. George MiUer was in a bad humour all that evening ; and on going to bed that night he vowed he would straightway set off for Wales next morning, and Miss Violet North might go hang for aught he cared. In the morning, however, that wild resolution — although, indeed, there was more prudence in it than he suspected — was abandoned ; and he somewhat listlessly went into town, to see if he could hunt up somebody who personally knew Sir Acton North. His inquiries had to be conducted very cautiously ; and there was something of interest in the search. Eventually, too, that day he failed ; and so, as he had to get back to Sydenham to dress for an early dinner, he thought he would go out to Denmark Hill station and walk across. He might get another glance of Violet North, and it was possible she might be in a better temper. AVell, he was going up Grove Lane when, turning the corner, he suddenly found himself in presence of Miss North and another lady. He felt suddenly guilty ; he checked his first involuntary impulse to take off his hat ; and he endeavoured to pass them without any visible recognition. FLUTTERINGS NEAR THE FLAME 33 But that was not Violet North's way. " Oh, Mr. :Miller," she said, aloud, " how do you do ? " He paused in time to prevent Mrs. Warrener observing his effort to escape ; he took off his hat, and rather nervously shook hands with ^Sliss North. " Let me introduce you," said the young lady, boldly, " to Mi-s. Warrener. ilr. Miller — Mrs. Warrener." He received a very pleasant greeting from the little fair- haired woman, who liked the look of the young man. " What a beautiful afternoon it is ! " said he, hastily. " And how fine those fruit-trees look now. We deserve some good weather after such a winter. Do you — do you live up here, Mrs. Warrener ? " " Oh yes. You know the cottage with the thatched roof near the top of the Grove ? " she said. She began to think that this young man was really handsome. " Of course — everyone about here knows it. What a charming place ; and the garden you must have behind ! Well, don't let me hinder you ; it is a beautiful evening for a walk. Good day, Miss North." He ventured to shake hands with her again ; he bowed to Mrs. Warrener, and then he turned away — scarcely knowing what he had said or done. " A friend of your father's, I suppose ? " said Mrs. Warrener to iliss Violet as they passed on. " N — no, not exactly," answered the girl, looking down. " Oh, I daresay some friends of yours know him." " N — no, not exactly that, either." Then she suddenly lifted her eyes, and said, frankly — "Mrs. Warrener, I suppose you'll think me a most wicked creature ; l)nt — but it is better you should know ; and — and I never saw that young man till the day I left school over the disturbance, you remember — and he knows no one I know — and I was never introduced to him by anybody." Each phrase had been uttered with increasing desperation. " Oh, Violet," her friend said, " how could you be so thoughtless — and worse than thoughtless ? You have been concealing your acfjuaintance with this young man even from your best friends — I — I don't know what to say about it " 34 MADCAP VIOLET "You may say about it anything you please — except that," said the girl, indignantly. " I deserve everything you can say about me — only don't say I concealed anything from you. There was nothing to conceal, I have only spoken a few words with him ; and the last time I saw him I told him if he wanted our acquaintance to continue he must get to know cither my father or some of my friends. There was nothing to conceal. I should be ashamed to conceal " At this point it seemed to occur to her that a self-con- victed prisoner ought not to lecture the judge to whom he is appealing for a merciful judgment. " Well, Mrs. "\^'arrcncr," she said, in a humble tone, " I hope you won't think I tried to conceal anything of importance from you. I thought it would be all cleared up and made right when he got properly introduced. And just now, when he did not wish to compromise me, and would have passed without a word, I thought I would just tell you how matters stood, and so I stopped him. Was there any concealment in that ? " " But how did you meet him — where did you meet him ? " said Mrs. Warrener, still too much astonislied to be either angry or forgiving. " I saw him on the road to the Crystal Palace," said Miss North. " I was attacked iby a ferocious dog — such a ferocious dog, Mrs. WaiTcner ! You've no idea how he. flew at me ! — and Mr. Miller came and beat him and drove hina away." " Then you know his name ? " " Oh yes," said Miss North, quite brightly. " I am sure you must have heard of ]\Ir. George Miller, the great merchant and philanthropist, who builds churches, and gives large sums of money to charities ? " " I have heard of him," Mrs. Warrener admitted. " Then that is his sou ! " said Violet, triumphantly. "But you know, Violet, Mr. George Miller's philan- thropy is no reason why you should have formed the acquaintanceship of his son in this manner. Where did you see him next ? " " At the Crystal Palace," said Violet, and the burden of her confessions seemed growing lighter, " I was very FLUTTERINGS NEAR THE FLAME 35 hungry. I had to go and get something to eat at the restaurant. I couldn't do anything else, could I ? Well, the waiters weren't attending to me ; and Mr. Miller was there ; and he helped me to get something to eat. Was there any harm in that ? " Mrs. Warrener was not going to answer offhand ; but as she felt that she almost stood in the light of a parent towards the gh'l, she was determined to know exactly how matters stood. " Has he written to you, or have you written to him ? " " Certainly not ! " " He knows your name, and who you are ? " «' Yes." So far the affair was all clear and open enough ; and yet Mrs. Warrener, who was not as nimble a reasoner as her brother, was puzzled. There was something wrong, but she did not know what. By this time they had got back to the house. " Violet, just come in for a minute. James will take you down to the school by and by." "Oh, Mrs. Warrener," said the girl, with sudden alarm, *' I very much wish you not to say anything about all this to Mr. Drummond ! " "Why not?" " I would much rather you said notliing 1 " " Well, I cannot promise that, Violet, but I will not speak of it to him just yet." They entered the parlour, which was empty, and Violet sat down on a chair, looking less bold and dcliant than asual, while lier friend, ijuzzled and perturbed, was evidently trying to find out what she should do. " What I can't understand is this, Violet," she said, liitting by accident on the kernel of the whole matter. " What object was there in his or your wishing to continue an ac'juuintance so oddly Ijcgun ? That is what I can't uiidei'stand. ^len often are of assistance in such trifles to ladies whom they don't know ; but they do not seek to become friends on the strength of it. AVhy does he wish to know you, and why should yon tell him to go and get some proper introduftion to you 'i " "1 did not tell him anything of the kind," said Miss D t 36 MADCAP VIOLET Violet, respectfully, but very proudly. " I told him that if he wished to speak to me in the future he must go and get some proper iuti'oduction. But do you think I asked him to come and sec mc ? Certainly not. AVhat is it to me ? " She was obviously much hurt, " Then why should you continue this — this— clandestine acquaintance, Violet ? " Mrs. Warrcner asked, timidly. " There is no such thing as a clandestine acquaintance," the girl answered warmly. " But if Mr. Miller wishes to add another person to the circle of his acquaintance, am I to forbid him ? Is there any liarm in that ? Don't you sometimes see people whom you would like to know ? And then, if he could not at the time get anyone to introduce him to me in the usual way, his getting to know you was quite as good ; and now, if you clioose to do so, you can take away all the clandestine look from our acquaint- ance. You have seen him. You could ask him to call on you." Mrs, "Warrener seemed to shrink in dismay from this bold proposal. But before she could answer Violet North had hastily, and with some confusion, corrected herself. " Of course," she said, quickly, " I don't wish you to ask him to call on you — not at all. But when you speak of our clandestine acquaintance, here is an easy way of making it not clandestine." " No, Violet," her friend said, with unusual firmness, " I cannot do that. I could not assume such a responsibility. Before raakbig such an acquaintance in this extremely singular way you ought to ask your mamma." " Haven't got any," said Miss North, with a toss of her head. " Or some one qualified to give their sanction." " I don't know anyone so well as I know you," said the girl ; and then she said : " But do you think I am begging of you to patronise that young man ? I hope not. Mrs, Warrener, I think I had better go down now." At this moment James Drummond made his appearance, an old brown wideawake on his head. " Ah, well, Miss Violet ; no more singing of Dixie's Land, eh ? You have never been in Dixie's Land, I suppose. But were you ever in the Highlands ? Have FLUTTERINGS NEAR THE FLAME 37 you ever seen the mountains and lochs of the West Highlands ? " " I have heard of them," Miss North said, coldly. She was very far from being pleased at the moment. " Now do sit down for a moment till I open out this plan before you. That is better. Well, I think we shall take no less than two months' holiday this autumn, August and September ; and I have my eye on a small but highly romantic cottage in the Highlands, connected with which is some little shooting and fishing ; plenty of fishing, indeed, for there are a great many hsh in the sea up there. Now, Miss Violet, do you think you could persuade your father and Miss Main to let you come with us part of the time ? It must be very wretched for you spending your holidays every year at school." " I beg your pardon, ^Ir. Drnmmond," said Miss Violet, with great dignity. " It is very kind of you ; you are always kind ; but if my friends are not fit to be introduced into your house, then neither am I." He stared in astonishment ; and then he looked at his sister, whose pale and gentle face flushed up. ]\Iiss Violet sat calm and proud : she had been goaded into this declaration. " What do you mean ? " said he. " Oh, James," cried his sister, " I thought Violet did not wish you to know ; but now I will tell you, and I am sure you will say I am right. It is no disrespect I have for the young man. I liked his appearance very much — but " " What young man ? " Then tlie story had to be told ; and if ]\Iiss North had been in a better temper she would have acknowledged that it was told with great fairness, gentleness, and consiclcration. James Diiuninond put his hands in his pockets and stretched out his long legs. "Well, Violet," said he, in his quiet and kindly way, " I can understand how you should i'eel hurt, if you suj)posc for a moment that my sister thinks you wish us to ask tlie young man here for your sake. But you are quite wrong if yon assume that to be the case. We know your jiriile and self-resjiect too well. On the other hand, migliL not this ^Ir. Miller consider it rather strange if wc asked him to come here to meet you ? You sec " 38 MADCAP VIOLET u I don't wish anytliinp: of the kind," she said hastily. *' Do you think I wisli to meet him ? "What I wish is this — that you shoukl not talk of clandestine acquaintanceship when I offer to introduce him to you, and Avhen you can get to know him if you please." He was too cfood-natured to meet the gWs impatience with a retort. He only said, in the same gentle fashion — " Well, I think you have tumbled by accident into a very awkward position, Violet, if I must speak the truth ; and I would strongly advise you to have nothing further to do with Mr. ]\lillt'r, however amiable the young man may be, unless you should meet him at the house of one of your friends." " I go to so many friends' houses ! " •' How can you expect to go ? You are at school : your whole attention should be taken up with your lessons." " I thought even school-girls were allowed to have friends. And you know I am kept at school only to be out of the way." She rose once more : tlie discussion was obviously profit- less. " I don't think I need trouble you to come down with me, Mr. Drummond," said she, with much lofty courtesy of manner. " I am going with you, whether you consider it a trouble or not," said he, laughing. She somewhat distantly bade ]\lrs, WaiTener good-bye ; and that fair-haired little woman was grieved that the girl should go away with harsh thoughts of her in her heart. As for Mr. Drummond, when he got outside, he was deter- mined to charm away her disappointment, and began talking lightly and cheerfully to her, though she paid but little heed. "Yes," said he, "you always disgust people by giving them good advice ; but you wouldn't have us give you bad advice, Violet ? Now, you will be a reasonable young lady ; and by to-morrow morning you will see that we have acted all round in a highly decorous and proper fashion ; and if you try to gain ]\lLss Main's good-conduct prize this session I vnW ask her to put you down a hundred marks on account of certain circumstances that have come to my knowledge, though I can't reveal them. That is settled ; is it not FLUTTERINGS NEAR THE FLAME 39 now ? So your father has come back to London : I see lie was in a deputation at the Home Office yesterday. How tired he must be of railways ; or does he languish when he has to stop in town three days running ? Do you know, I once heard of a boatman at Brighton — one of those short and stout men who pass their lives in leaning over the railings of the Parade — and somebody went and died and left him a public-house in the Clapham Eoad. You would think that was a great advance in life ? I tell you he became the most miserable of men. He got no rest ; he moved about uneasily ; and at last, when the place was killing him, he happened to put up a wooden railing in front of the public-house just where the horses used to come and drink at the trough, and quite by accident he found it was a capital place to put his elbows on and lean over, I declare to you he hadn't lounged on that raihng twenty minutes when all the old satisfaction with life returned to his face ; and any day you'll see him lounging there now, looking at the horses drinking. That shows you what custom does, doesn't it ? " Of course, there was no such thing — no such boatman or public-house in the Clapham Road ; but it was a peculiarity of this talker that when once he had imagined an anecdote lie himself almost took it to be true. He did not mean to deceive his listener, \i this thing had not happened, how did he know of it ? The creations of his fancy took the place of actual experiences ; his sister never could tell whether he had really seen certain things during his morn- ing's walk, or only imagined theni and stuck them in his memory all the same. It was a fine, (|uiet evening up here among the green foliage of the sjjring. It was a grey twilight, with a scent of the lilacs in the cool air ; and the mighty chestnut-trees, tiic spiked blossoms of which looked pale in the fading light, seemed to be holding these up as spectral lamps to light the coming dusk. It was a still, calm, peaceable evening ; but even the unobservant ^^Ir, Druinniond could remark that his companion was not at all attuned to this gentle serenity. Her moody silence Avas ominous. " You will come round and sec us to-morrow afternoon ? " Raid he. 40 MADCAP VIOLET " I am not sure," she said, with her baud on tlie open door. " Now be a sensible j^irl, Violet ; and believe me that we have given you good advice. Don't forget what I said to you ; and come up to-morrow evening to show me that we are all still good friends." So Mr. Drmnmond walked away up the hill again, whistling absently ; one hand in his trousers pocket ; his hat rather on the back of his head ; and an unusual gravity of thoughtfulness in his face. Miss Violet, on the other hand, went indoors, and up to her own room. She was the only boarder in the place who had a room all to herself ; but on this Sir Acton North had insisted. She threw open the window, and sate down : far below her they had lit a street lamp, and there was a curious light shining on the lower branches of the chestnuts. The sound of footsteps in the distance seemed to increase the stillness of the night ; and one woidd not have been sur- prised to find the first faint glimmer of a star in the darkening heavens. Peace enough without ; but a fierce fire of wrath within. " They have done it now," she was saying to herself. " Yes, they have done it. I gave them the chance, and wished to be as proper in my conduct as anybody could be ; but now they have driven me to something very different. I don't want to see him — I dare say I shall hate him when I see him ; but 1 iviU see him ; and I will meet him whenever he likes ; and I will Avrite letters to him till two in the morning ; and if they won't let me make friends in the ordinary way, I will make friends for myself in some other way. And that is what they have done ! " So the wildl winds of folly and anger and unreason blow us this way and that — that the gods may have their sport of us 1 CHAPTER V. SUBTERRANEAN FIKES. A SUDDEN change came over the tone and style of Violet North's novel. It had opened in a gentle and idyllic mood, deaUng with the aspirations of noble souls and the pathos of SUBTERRANEAN FIRES 41 lovers' partings ; it was now filled with gloom, revenge, and detestation of the world. The following brief extract may suffice to show the artist's second manner — and has other significance as well : "When we bade farewell to Virginia Northbrook in a previous chapter she had been up to that moment supported by the companionship of one of the noblest of men : but now, when she turned away, with the wild tears glittering in her eyes, she felt, alas ! what a bitter mockery the world was, and her young and ardent nature was shocked and wounded by the cruel selfishness of her fellow-creatures. All around her was gloom. No longer did the cheerful sun light up the emerald meadows of I) . Nature sympa- thised with her stricken heart ; even the birds were silent, and stood respectfully aside to see this wretched girl pass. The landscape wore a sable garb, and the happy insects that flew about seemed to be crushed with the dread of an impending storm. " For why should the truth be concealed ? That cruel parting which we have described was wholly unnecessary ; it was the result of malice and selfishness on the part of those who ought to have known better ; they had deter- mined to separate our two lovers ; and their cunning wiles had succeeded. Alas ! when Avill the heartless worldling learn that there is something nobler and higher than the love of mammon and the hypocritical gloss which they call, for- sooth ! respectability ? Why should not two young hearts fulfil their destiny ? Why should they be torn asunder and cast bleeding into an abyss of misery, where hope is extin- guished, and the soul left a prey to the most liorriblc horrors ? " But the present writer must guard himself against being misunderstood in describing Virginia Northbrook's desolate condition. She was alone, and the cold world was against her; but did she succumb? No! ]Ier spirit was of firmer mettle. It was a singular point in the character of our heroine that whereas, with kindness, she was as docile as a lamb — and ?//«.s7 (jniifful to those who were kind to her — cruelty drove her into desperation. AVhen she parted from Gilbert and took her way home to C (J her soul was more dauntless than ever. 4i Madcap violet " ' i)o they think thoy have conquered me ? ' she cried aloud, while a wild smile broke over her featui-cs. ' No ; they will learn that within this outward semblance of a girl there is the daring- of a woman ! ' " Poor misguided creature, she was deceiving herself. She was no longer a woman — but a fiend 1 Despair and cruelty had driven her to this. "Was it not sad to sec this innocent brow plotting deadly schemes of revenge on those who had parted her from her lover, in deference to the idle prejudices of an indilferent world ? " Yes, reader ; you will judge as to whether she was or was not justified ; and, oh 1 I appeal to you to be merciful, and take into consideration what you Avere at her age. We will reserve for another chapter a description of the plot which Vii'ginia invented, together with the manner in which she carried it out." At this point of her imaginary life, there occurred a considerable hiatus ; for her real life became more full of immediate and pressing interest, Violet North dispossessed Virginia Northbrook. The details of the plot mentioned above must be put in, therefore, by another and less romantic hand. First of all, this proud, wilful, impetuous and mischief- loving girl suddenly showed herself obedient, attentive to her school duties, and most clearly respectful and courteous to the chief mistress. Miss Main was at first jDuzzled and suspicious ; then she was overjoyed. " Perhaps," she said to the German master, *' it is only to spite Miss Wolf that she means to take the good-conduct prize, as she took the French and German last term ; but if she makes up her mind to it, she will do it." Then all the girls understood that Violet North meant to have the good-conduct prize ; and they, too, knew she must have it if she seriously meant to gain it. Two or three days after this abrupt reformation, Miss Main said to the girl, in a kindly way, " Miss North, why don't you go up to Mrs. Warrener's as you used to do ? Amy has not told me they were from home." "No, Miss Main," said the girl, with great respect, " they SUBTERRANEAN FIRES 43 are at home. But — but when I go up there, it seems a pity I should have to trouble Mr. Drummond to come back again with me. It is such a short distance : he must think me very timid or foolish." " Oh, I am sure," said the schoolmistress, " that need not bother you. The distance is very short indeed. You might easily run down here by yourself." " Oh, thank you," said Miss North, very calmly. " That is very kind of you, Miss Main ; for one does not like to be a trouble to one's friends." There was less of calm respectfulness — there was, on the contrary, a proud and defiant determination — on her face when she went up stairs to her o^vn room. There she sate down and wrote out three copies of the following mysterious announcement : " Violet.— Is G. M. ever about Champion Hill atfivep.m. ? V. would like to apologise for rudeness. ''"' She must have contemplated beforehand sending these advertisements ; for she was already supplied with postage- stamps for the purpose. It was on the third day after this that Miss North met Jlr. George IMiller ; and their place of meeting was the Champion Hill mentioned above. " How odd you sliould have seen the advertisement 1 " said she, frankly going forward to him. There was no sort of embarrassment in her manner. " What advertisement ? " said he, amazed. " Oh," she said, fjuickly altering her tone, " it was nothing — a mere trifle. I thonght I liad been rather rude to you ; and I wished to apologise. So I put a line in the papers. Now I have apologised to you — " " Yes ? " said lie, rather puzzled. "Well, there's no more to be said, — is there?" she remarked. " J)o you mean that you wish to bid me good-bye ? " said he, rather stillly : he considered that this young lady's manner of treating him was just a tride too dictatorial. " Oh, I don't rare," she said, indilTerently. "AVliat were you coming about here for, if yon did not see tiic advertise- ment ? " "I thouglit I might see you." 4+ MADCAP VIOLET She smiled demurely. " At the head of the school ? " " Any way. Even that would be better than nothinp^," said he ; for she was very pretty, and he lost his head for the moment. " Well," she said, with a burst of good-naturp, " since I'm not at the head of the school, I will walk down with you to the foot of Green Lane. I suppose you are going home ? " " Y — yes," said he, doubtfully. " I wanted to tell you something, if there was an opportunity." " Pleasant, or not ? If not, don't let us have it, please ; I have enough of worry." " You — worry ? " said he, with a laugh. " You talk as if you were a woman of thirty. And, indeed, I think all this farce of keeping you a school-girl ought to be broken up. It is quite ridiculous. You ought to be at home, or in some one's hoi;se, where you would meet people and be allowed to make friends — instead of slipping out like this, and probably getting us both into trouble — " " I know," she said, shortly. " What was it you were going to tell me ? " " I have found out a man I know in the city who knows Mr. Drummond," said he ; " and he proposes to introduce us to each other — in an accidental way, you understand. Now, will that 'satisfy you ? " " Satisfy me ? " she said, turning her proud black eyes on him with an air of surprise. " Have I been anxious to be satisfied ? " ; " I did not say you were," said he, testily. " You seem bent on a quarrel." " Oh no, I'm not," she answered, with one of those quick smiles that could disarm even the awful anger of an out- raged schoolmistress. " But you must always bear in mind, if you wish to see me at all, that the wish is on your side. As for me — well, I have no objection." " You are very proud." " No ; only frank." " Well, about Mr. Drummond — won't that satisfy every- body ? I have been introduced to that lady — what is her name ? " SUBTERRANEAN FIRES 45 " "Warrener." " Then I shall make his acquaintauce ; and if he is a friendly sort of man, I will ask him to dine with me ; and very likely he will do the same by me ; and I am snre to meet you at his house. Now is that all right ? " " Xo, all wrong," she said, with a charming smile. " They won't have anything to do with you." " Did you tell them .? " said he, with sudden alarm. " Oh yes," she remarked, speaking very distinctly. " I told them that I had accidentally made your actjuaintance ; that you seemed to wish to continue it ; and that, if they chose, they could be friendly and take you under their charge." " And what did they say ? " " They refused — too much responsibility." " Then what do you mean to do ? " said he. " I ? " she said, with a bright laugh, " I mean to walk down to the foot of Green Lane with you ; and then go back to the school. Is not that good-nature enough for one day ? " " And after that — are we to consider our acquaintance at an end ? " " As you please," said she. " Do you mean that you propose to continue this hide- and-seek way of meeting — this slinking round corners so as to avoid being caught ? Of couree it is very romantic, but at the same time " " At the same time," said she, wiih a clear emphasis which rather startled him, " I mean to say a word to you that you must not foi'get. I cannot allow you to assume for a moment that I care a lialfjxnny whctlier I meet you or whether I don't. Do you think 1 wish to play at hide and seek ? Now please don't talk like that again." "Well," said lie, rather Imnibly, "I no sooner propose one way of putting an end to this state of things than you immediately say it is of no use, and seem rather glad. Perhaps you could t(;ll me another ? " " Oil dear, yes," said she, with groat cheerfulness. " Why should we ever meet again anywhere, or anyhow ? WouM hot that solve tlie dilTicuIty ? " "Very well I " said he, driven to anger by her ineardod friend put on his hat and came out. " Who is th«; man ? " said Drnmmond carelessly, as they went along. *' Who wants to be introduced to you ? Oh, a young fellow called Miller." "George Miller?" said Drummond, suddenly stopj)ing on the pavement, with a frown of vexation coming over his face. 54 MADCAP VIOLET " Yes. Do you know anyfchiug of him ? " said Harding, Avith surprise. " Yes ; I do. Did lie tell you why ho Wished to he introduced to me ? " " No, he didn't." " Well, I'll tell you what, Harding, it's — it's d — d imper- tinent of this fellow — " " IMy dear hoy, what's the matter ? You do know him .? If you don't want to meet him, there's no reason why you should. We can have hmch elsewhere. He asked me in an offhand way if I knew you — asked to be introduced, and so forth. But there is no compulsion." " On second thoughts I will go with you," said Drummond with sudden determination. " I tell you, man, there is no compulsion.- Let's go else- where." " No, I want to be introduced to him." "All right — the same as ever: flying round like a weathercock, jumping about like quicksilver." They went into a spacious restaurant, where a large number of men, mostly with their hats on, were attacking large plutefuls of rather watery beef and mutton. Harding was known to many of them ; as he passed he encountered a running fire of pleasantries which he returned in kind. This was an ordeal which Drummond, who had frequently been with his friend to the place, regarded with a mild wonder. There was no one more ready than himself for fun, for raillery, for sarcasm even of a friendly sort ; but this sort of ghastly wit, with no light or life in it, but only a crackling of dry bones, rather puzzled him. Then he noticed that his friend was a trifle embarrassed in replying to it ; apparently Harding had not got quite acclimatised in the city. There was neither humour, nor drollery, nor epigram in this sort of banter ; but only a trick of in- version, by which a man expressed his meaning by saying something directly the opposite — a patter, indeed, not much more intellectual than the jabbering of inarticulate apes. It should be added, however, that the young men were very young men. " Miller hasn't come yet," said Harding. " What is the matter between you two ? " CRABBED AGE AND YOUTH 55 " Notliing : I never saw him. But I know why he wants to be introduced to me. What sort of a man is he ? " " Oh, well, he is a nice enough young fellow, who has unfortunately got too much money in prospect, and con- sequently does nothing. But now, I believe, he is going into business — his father means to buy him a partnership." " But — but — -what sort of fellow is he ? " said Drum- mond, who had no interest in the young man's commercial prospects, " Well, he is fairly educated, as things go — much better educated than the idle sons of rich business men ordinarily are. He sometimes rather gives himself airs, as to his gentlemanly appearance and instincts, and so forth, if strangers are too familiar with him in the billiard-room up stairs, where they generally have an afternoon pool going on. He is inclined to look down on us poor devils who are in commerce ; but that is natural in the son of a business man, lie is free with his money— that is to say, he would give you a gorgeous banquet if he asked you to dinner ; but it would take a clever fellow to sharp him out of a sixpence, and yuu don't catch him lending sovereigns to those hangers-on about billiard-rooms who are always ready to borrow and never remember to pay. I think on the whole he is a good sort of fellow. I rather like him. You see, he is very young : and you can put up with a good deal in the way of crude opinion, and self-esteem, and all that, from a young man. ... 1 suppose other people had a good deal to stand at our hands wlieu we were of the same age." "You don't think he would do anything mean or dis- honourable ? " "I tliink hisown good opinion of himself would guard against that," said Ihirding, with a laugh. "Self-esteem, and not any very liigh notion of morahty, keeps inany a man from picking a pocket." "And he does nothing ;it all? Uo Ima no partimlar occupation or hobby ? " "No ; I think he is an idle, careless, good-natured sort (if fellow. Not at all a focjl, you know — very shrewd and keen. Hut what in the world are you so anxious to know all about George ]\Iiller for ? " Drummond did not answer ; he seemed to have en- 56 MADCAP VIOLET coniitcred some dilliculty in the cutlet that was before him. At length he said, withonfc raising his eyes from the plate — and just as if he were naturally continning the conversation, — "AVcll, Harding, I was thinking the most miserable people in this country are the lads and young men who are devoured by ami )ition— there are thousands and thousands of them, all hungering for the appreciation of the public, all anxious to have their stupendous abilities recognised at once. They cannot rest until their book is published ; until they have been allowed to play llamlct in a London theatre ; until they have had a chance of convincing a jury and astonishing a judge. By Jove ! if they only knew, wouldn't they be thankful for the obstacles that prevent their making fools of themselves ! When they do rush into print prematurely, or get all their friends to witness their failure on the stage, wliat do they do but lay up in their memory something that will give them many a cold bath in after days ! But I wonder which you should admire the more, the young fellow who is tortured with ambition, and would make a fool of himself if he were allowed, or the young fellow who is much more sensible — probably from a lack of imagination — and lives a happy and free and easy life ? That is your friend Miller's case, isn't it ? Now, don't you think that the young man who — " There is no saying whither this speculation might not have led, had not Drummond been interrupted by the appearance of George Miller himself. Mr. Drummond's quick, brilliant, observant eyes were instantly directed to the young man's face. It was a refined and handsome face. There was something pleasing in the modest blush which accompanied the simple ceremony of introduction. So far the first impression was distinctly favourable ; but James Drummond remained silent, grave, and watchful while the younger man chatted to Harding, and explained the reasons for his being late. Then young Miller turned to Drummond, and rather timidly began to talk to him. As Drummond was never known to remain in the same mood for five minutes at a time, he was least of all likely to do so when that mood was one of a cautious and critical severity ; so that almost directly Harding saw him, in response to some chance and CRABBED AGE AND YOUTH 57 modest remark of the young man, suddenly brighten up into a laugh, while he retorted with a joke. George Miller was, indeed, relating some stories he had heard as to the tricks of the manufacturers of spurious wines, a subject on which he seemed to have acquired some knowledge. He went on to make a few remarks on the constituents of this or that wine — remarks diffidently made, but obviously based on accurate information. His talk interested Drummond, who, by the way, was profoundly ignorant on the matter. He neither knew nor particularly cared how a wine was produced, so long as it was pleasant and wholesome. If it was pleasant and proved to be wholesome, he drank it ; if not, he left it alone. He would as soon have thought of inquiring into the constituents of this or any other wine as he would of inquiring into the application of the money he paid in taxes. He never knew for what purposes he was taxed, or who taxed him ; but he paid the money, and was glad to be relieved from responsibility. He lacked the parocliial mind altogether ; but he was altogether grateful to the vestries, or boards of guardians, or whatever other and occult bodies took upon themselves the task of local government. Now the great respect markedly paid to him by young Miller rather flattered Mr. Drummond, who began to be interested in the young man. jSIoreover, was he not in a position of advantage ? He knew Miller's secret aim ; Miller did not know that he knew it ; if there was anything suspicious or underhand about the young man, he would have an excellent opportunity of finding it out. He was on the whole glad that he had resolved to come to the luncheon ; he would not allow the young man to make use of the acquaintance unless he considered that advisable ; while he was now in a better position to aid and counsel Violet North. After luncheon they went up for a brief joeriod to the smoking-room ; and then Harding had to go back to his ofTice. "Mr. Drummond," said fJeorgo ^lilhr, rather shyly, "I believe you live over Denmark ilill way ? " "Yes ; Camberwell Grove," said the elder man, amusing himself by watching the artless tricks of his companion's diplomacy. 58 MADCAP VIOLET "I live afc Sydenham Hill. I — I was tliinking — you know you were speaking of old books — ■well, my father has what is said to be a very good collection — it was left him by a friend who went to India some years ago. Now, if you have nothing better to do, would you — would you — come out with me now aud have a look at them ? You might stay and have a bit of dinner with me too. Unfortunately our people are all down at the Isle of Wight just now ; but the servants will get us something. I — I wish you would." Mr. Drummond could have smiled. The poor young man ! — he was working away at his little plot, unconscious how the master mind beside him was looking down on all its innocent involutions. He would humom' the youth. " All right," said he, " I shall be very glad. Only I must send a telegram to my sister." So these two oddly consorted people went away down to Sydenham to the big, gorgeous, solemn, and empty house ; and young Miller was as anxious for his guest's comfort as if he had been an emperor. And how respectfully, too, he listened to the elder man's monologues, and jerky witticisms, and chance I'cmarks suggested by the various volumes. Much of it all was quite incomprehensible to him ; but he did not cease to listen with great attention. Drummond came to the conclusion that George Miller was a very igno- rant lyoung man, but decidedly intelligent, and laudably anxious to be instructed. Never had any prophet so humble a disciple. He stayed to dinner too ; and accepted with an amused condescension the young man's apologies for a banquet which was certainly varied and abundant enough. None of the wines seemed sufficiently good for so distinguished a visitor. The youthful host bitterly regi'ctted he had not a better cigar to offer Mr. Drummond — the fact is, the box he produced had only cost ll. 10s. the hundred. They went out on to the terrace to smoke ; and sate down in easy chairs, among fragrant bushes, under a clear starlit sky. If the young man had any prayer or petition to pre- sent, was not this a favourable opportunity ? " I suppose those lights over there," said George Miller, looking across the black valley to a low hill where there were some points of yellow fire, " are about where you live ? " CRABBED AGE AND YOUTH 59 " Yes, I should think so," said Mr. Drummoud. " I — I happen to know a neighbour of yours." " Oh, indeed," said his wily companion, with an apparent indifference, though he knew what the young man was after. " At least not quite a neighbour, but a young lady at a boarding-school — I — I believe you know something of her — ^Miss North is her name — " " Oh, yes, we know her," said Drummond, carelessly. " Yes," said the other, with greater embarrassment, " so — so I have heard." " You know her father, of course ? " said Mr. Drummoud, lightly — which was certainly not the remark that might have been expected to follow such a good dinner, such an excellent cigar, and so great an amount of attention. " N — no, not exactly." " Her friends then ? " Young ^liller got out of his embarrassment by a bold plunge. " The fact is," said he, " Mr. Drummoud, I made her ac(iuaintance in a curious way ; and I have been anxious to get somebody who would do all the formal and society business of introducing us, don't you know ; for she is a very nice girl indeed, and one likes to know such a sensible, such a frank, good-natnred — " " Oh, I see," said Drummond, apparently making a great discovery ; " and so you got Harding to ask me to go into the city ; and so you have asked me to come out here ? " There was no anger or impatience in his tone ; he seemed only asking for information. The night concealed the colour that had fired up into the younger man's face. " I hope you don't think it was inipertincnt of me," said he. "lam delighted to have made your ac(|uaintan<'c in any case — I hope you will believe that. I thought Miss \orth had probably mentioned my name to yon." ile made no answer to that ; he said it was a beautifnl night, and rose to stretch his legs. " To tell you the truth," stammered young Millar, " I thought that— that if you and I hcoanic fricindly, \ niiirht liavc an opportunity, some time or other, of being intro- duced to her under your roof." Go MADCAP VIOLET " Oh, iudecd," said ]\rr. Drnmmond coolly. " And with ■what puvjiose ? " " "Well, ouc -wishes to have a pleasant acquaintance — that is natural." " I see," said Drummoud, carefully hrcakiuf? the white ash off his ciuar. George ]\liller waited for a second or two ; surely this was a most unsatisfactory answer. " You have not yet said — " " Oh, whether I would ask you to meet Miss North at my house ? Well, I see no harm in that. You only wish to make her acquaintance — there is no harm in that. But — but I will see about it." " Oh, thank you." Not very long after that Mr. Drummond took his leave, declining at the last moment half-a-dozen cigars about as big as walking-sticks which George Miller declared to be necessary to his comfort on the way home. When he reached Camberwell Grove he said to his sister — " Did you see Violet North this afternoon ? " " No," she said ; " the Kennaways came over and stopped the whole day with mc." *' Don't go and call on her just yet then. We must con- sider. I have met that young ]\Iiller, and a very decent young fellow he is, but much too young to be allowed to flirt with Violet North. Now if they were allowed to see each other occasionally, she is a shrewd enough girl to find out that he is rather a commonplace young man ; and I think we ought to let them meet here." " Oh, .James, how dangerous ! " cried his sister. " Only think what we may be accused of I Violet North will have money." " That young fellow will have twenty times as much. ITowever, I am sure the question will never arise. We will talk about this thing to-morrow." Now " to-morrow " was Tuesday — that Tuesday on which Violet North had determined to put the whole world to defiance. " Just my luck ! " said young Miller to himself after Mr. Drummond had gone. " Confound it ! why was she in such a hurry ? He would be willing to have us meet as A SUMMER DAY'S DRIVE 6r friends at his house — that is quite certain ; and everything would go smoothly enough ; and now comes this pretty adventure of taking her away to Hampton ; and there's no escape from tliat now. And a very nice mess we are likely to get into, if anybody sees us or finds it out, as somebody is sure to do." CHAPTER VII. A sumiER day's diuve. The eventful morning arrived, and at an early hour Yiolct North went to the window of her small room, and, with rather an anxious heart, drew up the blind. Behold ! all around her and beneath her a world of green foliage, lit up by the early sunshine ; a million flashing diamonds on the glossy ivy-leaves of the old red wall ; black shadows from the broad laurel-bushes falling on the brown earth below ; the white and purple lilacs, the tremulous yellow l>lossoms of the lal)urnum, the upright, cream-hued mina- rets of the chestnut-trees all basking in the sun ; and two tall poplars, rustling their leaves in the light wind, leading the eye up to the wonderful expanse of clear blue above, where there was not even a white flake of cloud. She was satisfied. She heard some one passing her door ; she went to it hurriedly ; and one of the servants turned on the stair and regarded her. "Elizabeth," said she, "here is a shilling for you ; and you miLst at oui-a run away down to Camberwell, and go to Mrs. Cooke's, the milliner's, and don't you come away until you've got my hat, done or uudone. Now, do you under- stand, EIi/.a]>eth ? " " Lor, miss, they was to send it up at eight o'clock, and it is only lialf-past sev(,'n yet." " But I am sure they won't send it. Don't waste time, Eh'/.a])etli, Init go and do as I tell you ; and don't be argued out of the shop." When the two or three boarders came down to l)reakfa8t, they all knew tliat Violet North was going away for ft hohday, and th'y were all anxious to sec her costume. She 62 MADCAP VIOLET was continually surprising tlicm in that matter, for she had some skill in dressing herself ; and yet many a poor girl, Avlio faithfully copied this glass of fashion, could not under- stand how these costumes seemed to suit no one so well as they suited Violet North. They could not even say that it was the larger pocket-money of a baronet's daughter which gave her greater latitude in adorning herself ; for her dresses were devoid of every sort of ornament. They were the simplest of the simple ; no tawdry flounces or eye-dis- tracting hunches of ribbons ; their only peculiarity was the studied tightness of their sleeves. But that which made Miss North's dresses seem to fit so gracefully was something outside and beyond the dressmaker's art ; the workmanship not of any man or woman milliner, but of God. She was in capital spirits. Anxious ? Not a bit. There was more anxiety in the breast of a young man who, at that moment, was coming along the Dulwich Koad in a carriage drawn by a pair of fine greys. He almost looked as if he were going to a wedding. "Yes, ]\Iiss Main," said Violet North, going calmly to the window, " here is the carriage ; and I see it is young Mr. Miller who has come for me. I would rather have introduced the father to you ; but as it is, will you come down and see him ? " " Oh yes," said Miss Main, gTaciously. The young man stood, hat in hand, in the parlour ; and, if the truth must be told, with his heart for the moment throbbing rather quickly. lie looked from the school- mistress to Violet North as they both entered ; the young lady was composed, smiling, and courteous. " Let me introduce Mr. Miller to you, Miss Main," said she. " Your father is very well known, by reputation, to Miss Main, Mr. ^liller ; and she almost expected him to come for me this morning. But I suppose he had some other engagement." " Y — ^yes," stammered the young man ; and then he added hastily : " Are you ready to go now, Miss North ? " He was desperately anxious to get out of the house ; he knew not at what moment he might make a blunder. That there was some mystification about was evident from Miss Main's innocent helplessness in the matter. A SUMMER DA Y^S DRIVE 63 " Good morning, Miss Main," said Miss North ; " I dare say I shall be back about sk." "When she stepped out into the sunlight, and saw the two grey horses before her, she could scarcely refrain from smiling — it was very hke a runaway marriage. And so thought the girls upstairs, who were all at the window ; and who, when they saw the young lady in grey and dark brown velvet — with her grey hat now adorned with a bold white feather — handed into the carriage, could not help admitting that a handsomer bride had never been taken to church. And was not he handsome, too — the slender, square-shouldered young man, with the straight nostrils and finely-cut mouth ? They drove away in the clear sunshine ; and the girls were of opinion that, if it were not a mar- riage, it ought to have been. George IMiller heaved a great sigh of relief ; he had not been at all comfortable while in that room. " How did you manage it ? " said he. " Oh," said she, with a revengeful triumph in her manner that he did not quite undei-stand, " the easiest thing in the world ! That dear good schoolmistress thinks we are going to some flower-show or other where your father, and my father, and everybody else's father, are all to be together. Coachman ! " The man turned round. " Would you please go through this lane and up Grove Hill ? " She did not wish to pass in front of ]\lr. Drummond's house. " And did you tell her all that ? " said he. " Not I. She inferred it all for herself. But never mind : isn't it line to be off for a holiday, and what a holiday too I I never saw this place looking so lovely." They were driving along the crest of Champion Hill ; and as there was a bank of heavy cloud all along the southern sky, against this dark background the wonderful light greens of the Spring foliage seemed to be interfused with a lambent sunshine. Here were young lime-trees, with slender and jet-black branches ; tall and swaying poplars ; branching and picturesque elms ; massive chest- nuts and feathery birches; and now and a'jain, looking 64 MADCAP VIOLET into a bit of wood, they saw a strange green twilight pro- duced by the sun beating on the cauojjy of foHage above. It was a Spring-day in look — the heavy purple in the south, the clear blue above, with glimpses through the lofty elms of sailing white clouds blown along by a western breeze. " AVhere are we going ? " said she, though, in i)oiut of fact, she did not care much ; it was enough to be out in freedom, in the cool air and the clear sunshine. " I thought of Hampton," said he, timidly. " The river is pretty there, and we must have luncheon." " Are there not a good many Cockneys there ? " said she, with an air of lofty criticism. " Don't they call it 'Appy 'Ampton ? " "You'll scarcely find anybody there on a Tuesday," said he. •' Ah, you thought of that ? " " Yes." " Thank you." She was quite gracious ; but somehow he was never sure that she was not joking. Was it not with some hidden sarcasm that this school-girl said " Thank you," with the high courtesy of an empress ? Suddenly she burst out laughing ; and then he knew she was natural enough. " If Miss Main should hear of this," she cried, " I do think she'll have a fit ! It will be worth all the money to see her ! " " I don't see anything to laugh at in it," said he, " for to tell you the truth I don't see the necessity of your going on in this way." She stared at him for a moment. " Tell the man to stop," said she, with sudden decision. " I don't sec the necessity, cither, of our going on like this. I have had enough of the driving, and I can walk back." " Now please don't be foolish," said he, in a low voice. " Why won't you wait until I explain ? I said it was un- necessary, for thci'e is no longer any reason why we should not meet each other just as ordinary people do. Mr. Drummond dined with me last night." The announcement did not startle her as he had expected. " I don't care," said she. A SUMMER DAY'S DRIVE 6$ " But what is the use of riskiusr trouble ? " " They goaded me into it," said she. " Theu do you mean to refuse ? " " Xow," said slio, " what is the use of arguing on such a morning ? I said I would go with you for a nice drive ; and here I am ; and now you begin to talk about difficulties and disagreeable people. Why can't you let well alone ? " He was etfectually silenced ; and that was not the lirst time he had found himself unable to cope with the pro- nounced character of this mere school-girl. Of course, he did not like it. There was a frown on his handsome face ; aud he sat moody and silent. After a bit, she looked at him, and there was a mischievous look of amusement in her eyes. " Have I offended you ? " she said. " No ; but you have been rather rude," said he. ""Well, that is pretty language," said she, with a good- natured laugh, " to address to a young lady. By and by I shall find you following the example of Dr. Hiedl. He called me a devil the other day." " I don't wonder at it," said he ; and this confession so tickled her, and pleased her, that she got into a fit of laughing, which eventually conquered his surliness. He could not help laughing too. " Do you know what an exasperating person you arc .' " said he. " Well," she candidly admitted, "one or two people have hinted as much to ine ; but I always considered it jealousy on their part — jealousy of my superior sweetness. I do assure you I consider myself very amiable. Of course, if peo})le choose to be disagreeable " " That jiieans, if ]x,ople don't give you your own way in everything, you will take it." " Well, there is something in that. However, let us say no more about it. I forgive you." She settled herself comfortably in the carriage, the sun- light just catching the fine colour of lur face, and the light breeze stirring ends and tattera of her niasscs of dark hair. \i she was a runaway school-girl, there was little fear about her. She was criticising the apiK'arance of the houses on Denmark TTill and Herne Hill as th(!y drove past ; she was F 66 MADCAP VIOLET calling attention to tlic pale pni'plo blossoms of the wistaria hanging in front of thb snnlit ^Yalls ; or to the light, snuny, velvety green beroniing visible on the npper side of the black and shehiug Ijranches of the cedars. What sort of people were they who had these houses ! What was their income ? Would I\Ir. Miller like to live there ? Then for a time they got away from the houses ; and behold ! here were beautiful green meadows yellowed over Avith kingcups, and hedges white with the may. Past some houses again, and into the long broad avenues of Cla])ham Tark. Was }iot this Clapham Conunon, with its golden gorse, and gigantic birch-trees ? They dip into another hollow, and rise again ; and by and by they get well out into the country — the perpetual road of sunlit brown, the green fringe of hedge, the blue sky with its long Hakes of white, and the musical, monotonous patter of the horses' feet. " So you saw Mr. Drummond last nig^it ? " said Violet, " Well, what do you think of him ? No — don't tell me ; for unless you admired him very much — very much indeed — you auast the Eobiu Hood gate and were di'iving along the valley. A woman was coming in the opposite direction with her two children — • one in her arms, and one whom slie had allowed to lag far behind. Now tlicre was a cart laden with timber in the way, and as ililler's coachman drove to the right of the road to pass it, it unfortunately happened that the child, a little girl, stumbled at the edge of the pathway, and almost rolled against the carriage. .She was not run over ; but she struck her head against the hind wheel ; and when Violet North, (piick as lightning, opened tiie carriage door, jumped down, and caught up the child, blood was llowing from a slight scalp-wound. Tiic girl, who had got hold of the child long before the mother could reach it, and who did not know that the wound was not very dangerous, was frantic in her indignation. _ " YoH a driver ? " she said, with her eyes flashing. "Why didn't you stop your horses ? You — you— you're not lit to — oh, my poor child, I think we've murdered you ! " She ran with the child back tolhe public-house ; there — the mother not seeking to relieve her of her burden — she got water, and washed the wound, and tied it up as well as she could witli linen tiiey Ijrought her. The coachman 1- 2 68 MADCAP VIOLET came ill — he was explaining; to the pt'oplo that it was not his fault at all. " Hold your pwice ! " she said. Tiicii she tiinied to the mother. "Where do you live? Give me your address — I will come and see you — " She quickly pulled out her purse. All this time her face was very pale and determined. George Miller interfered, and said — " Hero, my p;ood woman, is a sovereign for you." "She shall have ten sovereigns — she shall have twenty sovereigns ! " the girl said, almost with a stamp of her foot, and with abundant tears rushing into her eyes. " Here, mother, is all the money I've got — I'm sorry we can do nothing hut give you money. But I will come and see you — my father will come and see you ; you go to a surgery when you get up to Wandsworth, and get a good doctor, and I'll pay him — now don't you forget ; I will look after you." " Thank you kindly, ]\Iiss," said the poor woman ; and the men standing l)y, when the girl went out, said to each other, " There now, that's a real lady, that is ; that's none o' your fine, stuck-up gentry as is too proud to step down from their carriages ; that's a real lady, that is." The carriage was outside, and the coachman again on his box. She went up to him. " I beg your pardon," said she, distinctly. " I believe I Avas wrong. I don't think you could have helped it." "Well, Miss, I don't think I could," said he. "But there's no great harm done — no bones broken It'll only be a scar." And so they drove on once more ; but Mr. Miller was not at all pleased at the way he had been treated in that wayside public-house. " How do you propose to get your father to go and see that woman ? How will you explain your being here ? " " I don't mind that," she said. " He could do no good. How much money did you give her ? " " Three sovereigns and some silver." " So she has got over four pounds on account of that cut.- A SUMMER DA Y'S DRIVE 69 I don't think she'd miud having the whole of her family treated in the same way." " If you [had your head laid open," she retorted, " I ■wonder how much your friends would think a proper com- pensation." They drove on for some distance in silence. "I think," said he, "we are having a fair amount of (piarrelling for a single day." "But that," she answered, with a charming smile, "is only to show what good friends we are. Of course, if we had met each other at a dinner party, and then at a ball, and then at another dinner party, we should be excessively l)olite to each other. "Would you rather like that ? Shall we try — from here to Hampton ? Shall I begin ? 1 hoij your 2Mrdon, my dear Mr. Miller, hut icoiild you hare the goodness to tell me ivhat o^clocJc it is ? " The abrupt change of manner, and the air with Avhich she made the in(|uiry, caused him to burst out laugliing ; and this effectually put both into a good humonr, which lasted, with but few interruptions, throughout the rest of the day. (Jn through Kingston and over the high-arched bridge — on by the wall and trees of Bushey Park — past the entrance to Hamilton Court Palace — underneath the shadow of some mighty trees — and then round to an open green, to the river, and to a big old-fashioned inn, its walls all hanging with the blossoms of the wistaria. " Have you courage to have luncheon in the ordinary cofTee-room ? " said he — as if she lacked courage for any- thing. " Certainly," she said. " I like to see people ; and I am not afraid of meeting any one 1 know. Oh, I say, if Miss Main could only see me now ! " "When they went into the cofTee-room they found there only two old maiden ladies, having ])read and cheese and lemonade, a l''renehnian and his wife, who was ninch older than bimself, and an (tlell. Her heart was beating violently. " Is Sir Acton at home, (ieorge ? " "Yes, Miss," answered the man ; anil (lien she walkcil in and through the hall. She found her father in a room tin; walls of which were almost covered with plans and maps, while the tabh; was littered with all manner of papers. When he looked up it was clear that his nniid was deeply engaged on snme project, for he betrayed no surprise at finding her standing there. "Well, Violet, well?" he said, abs«'ntly. "I will see you at dinner : go away now, like a good girl." If he was not surprised to find her there, Ik- was suf- ficiently startled by what followed. Before he IMS". novel ; and these she deliberately tore to ])icces. " Yon sham stuff, that is an end of you ! " she seemed to say. " You nmst pack olf along Avith plenty of other n.msense. I have done with that now ; you were good enough as the amusement of a school-girl ; the school-girl casts you aside when she steps into the life of A avoman." CHAPTEU VIII. ENGLAND, FAREWELL 1 " WiiKX does she go ?" asked James Drummond of his sister : he was rather moodily staring out of window. "To-morrow they go down to Southamjjton : and I think they sail next day. All the school is in a terrible way about it ; Amy has been having little fits of crying by lierself these two or three days back. She says that the whole of the girls came and asked Violet for some little keepsake— and of course she would part with her head if it was asked of her— and now they mean to present her with some book or other, with their names written in it. Dear, dear me, what will our Amy do I I am glad she had sullicient sense not to accept Violet's watch — the notion of one girl coolly offering another a gold watch ! " "We shall miss her too," Mr. Drummond said; he was apparently not overjoyed at Violet North's approaching departure. ENGLAND, FAREWELL! 8i He turned impatiently from the window. "Do you know," said he — with a look of anger which would have frightened anybody but his sister, who knew his ways — " do you know what mischief is likely to be done the girl by this two years' trip ? Look at her now — a wild, headstrong, audacious school-girl just entering the period in which her character as a woman will be formed. And at this moment, instead of letting some soft womanly hand smooth down the angles of her character — instead of sub- mitting her to all sorts of gentle influences, which would teach her something of the grace and sweetness of a woman — they carry her off among a mob of raihvay directors, with their harsh, mechanical ways, and their worship of money, and their loud and bragging self-importance. Why, the girl will come back to England, if ever she comes back, woi-se than ever " " Do you think her so very bad at present ? " Mrs. "WaiTener remonstrated, gently. " I thought you were very fond of her." " And I am," he answered. " And there is a great deal about her that is to me intensely interesting, and even fascinating ; while there is much that can only be tolerated in the hope that years may eradicate it. It was all very well to be amused by her rude frankness, her hapi)y thoughtlessness, and that sort of romantic affectation she sometimes played with while she was a school-girl ; but would you like to see all these things in the woman ? " " She must grow wiser as she grows older," his sister said, fighting a losing battle in defence of her friend. " Xo doubt ; l)ut will she grow gentler, sweeter, more womanly ? llcr father, I dai'e say, thinks he is doing her a kindness ; he is doing her a great injury." " You don't like to part with her, James," his sister said, with a smile. "Certainly f don't. I had some notion of asking her father to let her come and stay witli us when she left Koiiool ; a?id she was ])oiind to leave it soon. If we could have got her with us to the Highlands, and kept her there for a couple of months, she would have got familiarisel with us, and stayed on indefinitely." Mrs. Warrener wasi (piite as impulsively generous as lier G S3 Jr.WCAP I VOLET brcitlKT ; but she liiul to do with hou.sckoqHiit,' books ;iud tradi'sini'ii's Uills ; und she vnitnrcd to hint tliat the addition of another menibci' to their household would alTcct thfir expoiidiLiire to a certain deL,freo. lie would not hear of that. The frui^al manner in which tlu^y lived surely left tlu'in some martj;in for acts of friendliness ; and if Violet North were to come to live with tliciu, she was not the sort of <;irl to expect or a])preciate expensive living. " lint there is no use talkiinj: of it," he said, with a sigh. ** "When she conies back, we shall see what sort of woman she is." "Thut is ]Kirt of your regret," said his shrewd sister. "You were always interested in the girl — watching hei-, questioning her, studyiiig her — and now, just as the study was about to reach its most interesting point, she is seized and carried otf. Perhaps it will not turn out so badly for her after all — I am sure I hope so, for I cannot help loving the girl, thongli she has never been a good example to set before our little Amy." " I think," said Drummoud, suddenly, " I should like to go down to Southampton and sec her off. The poorest emigrant has friends to go and bid him good-bye. 1 dou1)t whether she will have a single creatm'e to shake hands with her the day after to-morrow." " Won't ^Ir. Miller be there ? " his sister suggested. " Xo : when he learned that she had promised neither to see him nor to write to him before leaving, he very fairly said that he would not try to get her to do either. And it was very straightforward of that young fellow to go up to her father and ask his pardon. I think wc must get him over to dinner in a day or two.'' " Yes," said his sister, laughing, " now they have taken Yicdet away from you, you can begin and dissect him." ''There is more commonplace material there," said Drummond, indilferently, as he went away to get a railway time-table. And now the hour came at which Violet North had to leave that tall house in Camberwell efore ; and he had always been looking forward to a winter's serious work ; but somehow the big project generally dwindled down to the dimensions of a magazine article, and even that was sometimes too whimsical and perverse for the most patient of editors. However, this time he was resolved to get the thing done ; and so he went to a publisher whom A MESSAGE HOME 89 he knew, carrying with him a few slips containing the ont- lines of his projected book. The publisher's face grew more and more puzzled as he looked at the following title and table of contents : — On a Pkoposal to Whitewash the Outside of "Westminster Abbey. Stilj-IIead 1. — TJie General Properties and Ilidorij of Whitewash. Section I. On Expiatory runishmcnts. Section II. Remarks on Modern Estimates of Judas Iscariot, Nero, Henry VIII., and Torijucmada. Section UI. 'WLitccross Street. Section IV. On those retrospective marrias^e laws which clear the character of illegitimate children. Section V. On tombstone inscriptions. Suh-IIcad 2. — The Interior of Westminster Abbey. Section I. On Exploded Reputations. Section II. Three questions propounded: (1) Is it possible for the disembodied spirit to lie present at the funeral of his own body ? (2) Is it possible for a disembodied spirit to blush ? (8) Is it probalde that, on several occasions, disembodied spirits may have been present in Westminster Abbc^y, and blushed to tind tlieir own bodies being buried tliere? Section III. On the Dean of Westminster as a collector of curiosities. « Section IV. On the possibility of a Dean of Wesfniinsfer be- coming possessed of tlie evil eye, and tlicrcforc al»l<; to secure celebrities for liis collection before the proper time. Section V. A jiroposnl for a Junior Wcstiniiister Abbey: this oecujjantB of the jjresent Alibcy to retire l)y rotation: vacancies to be lillcd up from tlio Junior. The piiblisliCT got no further than that. Ilis brain was ill a whirl, and he sought safety by getting back to tho initial point of his perplexity. 90 MADCAP VIOLET "Cod bless my soul I" ho crktl, "what do you mean, Druuiiuond ? To whitewash "Wcstni luster Abbey ? Why, the ])ublic wouldn't hear of such a thiut!^. It would be an outrage — a ])arl)arism — I never heard of sueli a notion !" A (juick, strangle, bewildered look came into J)rummond's eyes ; he looked at the puldisher in a puzzled way. "You don't — sec — that it is a joke," said he. " A joke ! Is all this meant to be a joke ? Do you tliiidc the public wt)uld read a joke cxtendin;^- to live hundred jta,<:es ? " "Confound them, they read many a five hundred pages without any joke visible at all," said Drummond. "My dear [fellow ! " said the publisher with a friendly and condcscendiug smile. " AVhy, (!od bless my soul ! who could be amusing for five hundred pages ? " "There are many folks anmsiug all their life long," retorted Drummond, though he was rather disapjiointcd. '■ AVhat they are afterwards, goodness only know's. Perhaps they have the fuu taken out of them llteny " Take my advice, Drummond," said his friendly adviser. " Don't waste your time over this. If it were a real piece of history, now, you know — something nice and picturesque about the Abbey itself, and the great heroes there — with a good dash of patriotism, and religious feeling, and that kind of thing — then the public would look at it. But a joke — and a joke about AVestminster Abbey of all places in the world ! " "I meant no disrespect to the Abbey, I am sure," said Drummond, humbly. "No, no," said his friend, " don't you waste your time on, that." James Drummond went home crest-fallen to his sister : he was sure of sympathy and admiration from his unfaihug audience of one. " Tlicv won't have it, Sarah." " And why :- " " Because the public wouldn't sec it was meant as a joke ; and then, if they did, they would take it as an insult. By heavens," he added savagely, " I wish all the publishers were buried in the Abbey, and that I had to write an inscription over their common tomb ! " A MESSAGE HOME 91 " AVlifit would YOU say ? " He stood uncertain for a moment. " I think," lie said, slowly, " I cannot do better than go and compose that inscription. As a great favour, I wijl show it to any publisher who makes the application. It is not everyone who can tell before his death what his tomb- stone is going to say after that event. Sarah, don't come in and disturb me until I have finished my eulogium ou the departed race of publishers," So that was all that came at the moment of Mv. Brummond's great project ; and Mrs. Warrener was once more defeated in her desire to be able to write out to Violet North that her friend had become famous. For, of course, whatever 'My. Drummond's own notions on the 6ul)ject were, his sister was convinced that he was failing in his duty so long as he did not achieve a great reputa- tion ; and of his capacity to do that she had no doubt whatever. Events had moved in a more marked way with Mv. George Miller — "Young ]\Iiller," as Drummond now familiarly called him. In the iirst place his father had bought for him a comfortable partnership which did not make too severe a call upon his time ; and the young gentleman having thus started in the world for hiiiiself, preferred to leave the paternal roof and take up his lodging in Half ]\Ioon Street, where he had a couple of sutlicicntly pleasant rooms. Then he had gained admittance to a small but very gorgeous club in Piccadilly, the mere stair- case of which would have justified his paying double the entrance fee demanded. This, about the most westerly in position of the well-known clubs, was about the most easterly in the character of its members. It" used to be Bald that the lost tril^es of Israel had suddenly turned up in that imposing l)uilding, and that, as a consequence, the steward had to excise bacon from his daiJy bill of fare ; but these rude jok(;s came with an ill grace from the young gentlemen of the Stock Exchange whose ancestry was much more tlioi'oughly missing than ever the lost trilxs had been. Oi course these two classes did not make up the membership of the clul). Ear from it. There was just as large a proportion as in other clubs of gentlemen 92 M. IDC. I J' VIOLET who could iu)L have earned a ]H'iiiiy (except at poo'') to save tlieir lives — if that coidd fairly be reujarded as an iiidueeiiient ; treiitlcineii whose ancestors had condescended to do notliin'j: for live centuries, and wlio were in consequence resrarded with c^rcat rrspcct. There were lawyers, doctors, bill-discounters, cierufynien — iu short, all the ordinary constitncuts of a nou-political club ; and there were one or two authoif?, who were occasionally asked at the last moment to join this or that little dinner-party, because they were devilish amusing fellows, and good for no end of jokes, you know. Now ViX. Georijje Miller had become very friendly with James Drummond ; and on several occasions the latter had been induced to dine at thi'5 club — let us call it the Juda'um for distinction's sake — with his newly-made aecjuaintance. IMr. Drummond, during these evenings, grew more and more to wonder at the extraordinary knowledge of the world which this young man had picked up. It was not a knowledge of human nature ; but a knowledge of the facts and circumstances of the life around him — of the petty ambitions of this man, of how the next made his money, of the fashion in which the other impecunious person contrived to make both ends meet by shifting his lodgings from time to time. Mr. Drummond ]X'rceived that young i\liller was an ingenuous youth ; but how had he picked up this familiarity with the ways of the world, which after all had its value as a species of education ? Drummond was well content to sit and listen to the young man. "What he heard did not edify him ; but it interested him in a way. ^loreover there was no arrogance of superior knowledge about the young man. On the contrary, he was still the humble scholar and disciple of this wliimsical master ; and was greatly pleased when Gamaliel invited him to spend an evening in the solitudes of that southern mountain, where he meta])horically sate at the feet of the teacher, and listened with nmch apparent interest to monologues, not one-fifth part of which he could in anywise understand. They were an oddly assorted couple of friends. But if ]\rr. ^liller found himself at a marked disadvantage while his teacher was idly roaming over the fields of philosophy, T A MESSAGE HOME 93 art, and letters, culling a flower here and there, and ex- pounding its hidden virtues, he, on the other hand, was much more at home than Drummond was in railway- stations, restaurants, hansom cabs, and w^hat not. Young Miller " knew his way about," as the saying is. When he paid his money he got his money's worth. He smiled blandly at the pretences of begging impostors ; he was not born yesterday. If there was a crush at a train, Mr. Drummond would give way to the noisy and blustering person who hustled past him — would stand aside, indeed, in mild wonder over the man's manners : but young Miller did not see the fun of being imposed on in that fashion. His elbows Avere as sharp as any man's ; his head as good a battering-ram as another's ; if it cost him twenty hats he would not be deprived of his just rights. One evening they were dining together in a quiet way at the Judaium ; while they were talking, the waiter had opened a bottle of champagne, and filled their glasses. The moment IMiller tasted the wine, he perceived that it was wholly different from that he had ordered, and summon- ing the waiter, he asked him what the wine was. The man remembered the order, and saw his mistake in a moment — he could only look in a helpless fashion at the destroyed bottle, " Take it away and bring what I ordered." When he had gone Miller said, "Now- tliat will teach the fellow to be a little more careful ; that's eight shillings he has lost by his blunder." Tlie waiter, not looking very radiant, came back with the proper wine, and tlie dinner went on. " What wages will tliat man have ? " said Drummond— he, too, seemed a little depressed. " I don't know ; jjrobably a guinea a week, and his board and clothes." " He may have a wife to keep, perhaps ? " " Possibly." " Perhaps slie may have children and a small household to sup])ort on that guinea a week ? " " Very lik.;iy." Drummond remained silent for some little time ; he was not getting on well with his dinner. At last, be fairly Hung down his knife and fork, and pushed away his plate. 94 AfADCAP VIOLET " ^lillor, this diniKr sticks in my throat 1 " The yountjcr man looked up amazed. '* What is it ? " "I can't sit catiiii,' and drinking- hero, uilli tliat un- fortunate devil rt)l)bed of more than a third of his week's earninijs — I can't do it " " Is it the waiter ? "Why, my dear fellow, I will put that riglit in a moment," lie would do anythinfif to please bis friend, of course. Tie called the waiter and told him to have the rejected liottle of wine added to the dinner-hill ; the man went away with more gratitude in hfs face than he dared express in woi'ds. " l>ut it is Very wrontr," said younir Miller, gravely, " You see you don't understand these things, Drummond — you don't like to have men treated like machines — and yet if vou let line feelings come into the management of a club, you'll simply have bad, and careless, and even impertinent servants. There's nothing like letting them suffer the conse(iuences of their own mistakes. Haven't we to do the same ? And who pities us ? Now isn't there common sense in that ? " " Oh, yes, there's a deal of common sense in that," said Drummond, in a dry and serious tone which always irritated his companion, who never could tell whether it did not conceal some trace of sarcasm. "^ly dear fellow," contimied IMiller — he was pleased to be able to play Gamaliel himself at times — " the moment you break in on strict discipline it is all over with the servants in a club. I remember a pretty instance of what follows from familiarity and friendly feeling, and that kind of thing. AVe had an Oxford parson here — one of the new school, you know — felt hat, thick walking-stick, long tramps, a bail-fellow-well-met sort of fellow, you know, and a devil to smoke pii)es — and he used to interest himself in the affaii-s of the waitere, and chat with them about their wives and families. Well, look here. He was in the smoking- room one evening- Thc face of George !Miller had grown properly solemn ; he was really anxious to impress on his friend the true principles of governing waiters. A MESSAGE HOME 95 " He was iu the smoking-room one evening, and we were all round tlie fire, and he wanted a light. A waiter had brought up some things, and he asked this waiter to bring him a light. There were no matches on the table ; and what does the fellow do but take out a match-box of his own, get hold of a wax-match, strike it on the heel of his boot — on the heel of his boot — and hand it to the parson ! " " Good heavens ! " exclaimed Mr. Drummond, with an awe-struck face. "And what happened ? Did the earth open and swallow up that fearful man ? " " Oh, you think it a joke," said young Miller, rather nettled : " I don't, anyway. If one of my father's servants did that to me, I can tell you he wouldn't be three minutes in the house. And no servant would do it, mind you, if he hadn't been made careless and cheeky by over-familiarity. By the way. Lady Xorth is an uncommon good one to look after her servants." " Lady North ? " said Drummond, with a stare. " Yes," said young Miller, with complacency. " Oh, I forgot to tell you, I fancy, how I ran across them 'at a picnic at Twickenham ; and the girls are very plain, don't you see ; and nobody was attending to them much ; and so I l)ecame very good friends with them, mother and all." " "Was this another of your deeply laid schemes ? " said Drummond, with a smile ; thinking of the ingenuous way ill which the young man had made his own acipiaintance. " Xo, it was not, uiuni my honour," said Miller. " I knew they were to be there ; and pito])ably I should not have gone if I had not known ; but the invitation was sent to me without any asking or arrangement on my part, and Lady Nortii is not a bad sort of woman. I dined with the family and one or two friends the other evening. She is rather cut and dried, you know, and slie has remarkably sliarp grey eyes —by Jove, 1 can tell you, the servants won't have much of a fling in that house. The girls very plain — very ; the eldest, Anatolia, has taken rather a fancy to me, I believe — oh, you needn't laugii, it is no great compliment, I assure yon." And 80 he let the gan'ulous boy run on, not more anuised by In's iiigcinioiiH confessions than liy th<; slinswd, l«'en, practical estimates of men and things he had by haphazard 96 MADCAP VIOLET formed. If Mr. Diummoud had had the honour of Lady North's acquaintance, he would ]n'ol)al)ly liavo taken a couple of months to form a jmli^iiK'iit al)i)ut her ; and that jud^nnent would have been founded on all sorts of specula- tions with ro,i,Mrd to her birth, education, temperament, early life, and ]n'esent ambitions. Young Miller, on the other hand, had seen her but twice or thrice ; he positively knew nolhiui^ aljout her ; but he hit on a very shrewd {ifuess as to lier ways ; and he managed to convey to his friend a jrretty clear picture of the short, fair, dignified, stupid, but well-meaning woman, whose excessive literalness, and consequent suspicion — for suspicion is the substitute employed by people who lack imagination and clear per- ception — had almost driven her stepdaughter crazy. " And what about Vi ■ about Miss North ? " said James Drummond, rather hesitatingly. " When do they expect her home ? " "I don't think the lovely Anatolia is anxious for that event, for the chances of her ever getting married won't be imprbved ; but she says her eldest sister, as she invariably calls her, is coming home very soon now. Why, it is nearly two years since she left ? I wonder what she will be like." " What she will be like ? That is easily answered. What she will be, tliat is of more importance," said Urum- mond, and for a second or two lie sate silent. " She will have grown a woman since you saw her." " P)Ut you don't suppose anyl)ody changes completely in a couple of years ? " exclaimed .Miller. " Oh no, not completely," said his companion, in an absent way. " What will she be like ? Well, in appearance very much what she was — a little more brave and self- possessed in maimer, probably, as becomes a woman. And doubtless she will be handsomer than ever. But as to what sort of a woman she has become by this time — -who can tell ? " " Oh, I don't suppose there can be nmch difference," said young Miller, impatiently. His friend smiled. " You boys ! " he said. " It is always the one notion you have got into your head. You hope she has remained the same, that yon may resume that ])iece of romanticism that was so cruelly broken off. Isn't that it ? " A MESSAGE HOME 97 " Well ? " said the young man, ingenuously and modestly. "You think the school-girl is coming back to play at sweethearting again ? I am afraid you will be disappointed. A girl grows so terribly — in experience, in character, in aims — between seventeen and twenty I Do you know, MiUer, that you will have to introduce yourself to a new Miss Xorth ? " " I don't believe it," said the other. " How can you tell ? Because she has written clever letters ? But every- body is formal in letters ; and I don't suppose she talks hko that." " I don't suppose she does," said Drummond, apparently thinking of something very far away from that dinner-table, and so the subject dropped for the moment. As they were walking along Piccadilly that night. Miller said : " I hear that Sir Acton North is a very rich man." " I suppose he is," Drummond answered. " He has got an uncounnonly line collection of pictures ; at least so one or two of the people there the other evening were saying. I'm not up to that sort of thing. By Jove, if I had his money, I shouldn't spend it on pictures and live in Euston Square. How much do you think he will give his eldest daughter when she marries ? " Drummond burst out laughing, " What an extraordinary question ! Do you think life is long enough to let one speculate on conundrums like that ? What possible interest could I have in making guesses as to Violet North's fortune ? " But he suddenly recollected himself. He looked at his companion with a sort of surprised curiosity in Iris eyes. " Oh, I see : you — do you expect to have an interest in that question ? " " I say nothing about myself," said the younger man, rather ])eevislily. " What harm is there in asking what money a girl is likely to have ? Of course I expect the girl I shall marry, whoever she may be, to have some money. I shall have some. There is no great mercenariness about that, is there ? It apj)ear8 to me reasonable enough. You seem to think that anyone on this side of thirty must have bis licad stuffed full of romance and trash. Well, 1 don't u qs madcap violet make any imtinco of tliat kind. I tliink it is a fair liar^ain -you briii;^ so }nuch inoiu'y into the alTair, aud I doii't SCO why the girl shouldn't also — just as the women of the poorer classes bring a chest of drawers and some blankets. It makes a wt)man far more independent too. She can indulge in exi)ensive tastes, and charity, and so foi'th, without feeling that she is drawing too hard on her husl)and. Xow what do you say to that ? " " Oh, nothing," said Drummond. " It is reasonable." " Yes, I think it is reasonable," said young Miller, rather warndy. " And don't you think a reasonable woman would have the same ideas ? A school-girl, of course, is all for love and love's sake alone, and moonlight, and rope-ladders. A sensible woman knows the cost of a house in Hyde Park Sijuare, and is ]>reci(jus glad to have two incomes instead of one for her family." " And then, you see, Violet North is coming back a sensible woman, not a school-girl," remarked Mr. Drum- mond, kindly bringing these various statements to a legitimate conclusion. " Oh, I didn't quite mean that," said the younger man. " Xot at all. I was only saying that when I married I should not be at all oflcndcd if the girl had a little money of her own. I don't suppose I am more mercenary than other people ; but I see what the effect is of starting a house and family on the income that was all very well for a bachelor's rooms." " Quite right ; quite right." Xow there was nothing that Mr. Miller disliked so much as being dismissed in this fashion when he was trying to engage his newly-formed acquaintance in talk. James Drummond scarcely e^er agreed with anybody ; and when he briefly said, " All right," or " Very well : quite true," it was a sure sign that he simply would not take the trouble to enter into the subject. Fortunately, at this moment they had just got to the coi-ner^ of Half Moon Street ; so they separated, and Drummond got into a hansom and made for home. It was about a fortnight after this evening that young Miller found himself the guest of Mr. Drummond ; and the small circle — which now included little Amy Warrener, A MESSAGE HOME gg who had become almost a young lady — was listening to the disquisitions of a philosopher who shall be nameless. He was labouring to prove — or rather, he was dogmatically asserting — that the happy man was he who could forget the past and disregard the future, fixing his attention on the occupation of the moment, and taking such joys as came in his way with a light heart. Why think of the long drive home if you are at the theatre ? Why think of the next day's awakening and work if you are spending a pleasant evening ? The philosopher in question maintained that this banishment of anticipation was a habit which could be cultivated : and that a wise man would resolve to acquire so invaluable a habit. " And then," said he, contradicting himself with happy carelessness, " v>'hat are the joys of the moment to your expectations of them ? Put them well on ahead ; give yourself up to imagining them ; and you will reap the valne of them twenty times over before they arrive. We, for example, mean to go up again to the Highlands this autumn " Here a young lady clapped her hands with joy. " — and at the present moment the Highlands arc a greater delight to me than they will be then. I can defy those rushing Ijutchers' carts, those inhuman organ-men, the fear of formal calls, by jumping off into the Highlands, and becoming a savage — a real out-and-out savage, careless of wind, and rain, and suidight, and determined to slay all the wild aniiiKils I can lind in a day's ti-amping over the heather " "Have you nuicli game in that place?" asked the practical Mr. ^lillcr. " Plenty ! " cried ^Frs. Warrener, with a cruel frankness. " Ikit he never hits anything. I believe we should never liave a Ijird or a hare except for old Peter." " Libels — mere libels," said the philosopher, returning to his subject. " Xow just think of the delight— here in this howling wiMcrncss of Tjondon — of taking out your gun, and seeing that it is all well oiled and polished ; of trying on your leggings to take the stiffness out of them ; of hauling out your old shooting-coat and finding in it a bill telling you at what hour the coach staits for the .Moor of II -2 lOO MADCAP VIOLET Tvannocb. Now this is real delifrlit. I snap my fingers at liOudou. I become a savage " Just at this moment the maid tapped at the door and brouirht ill a k-tter. Surely he knew the handwriting ? " You will excuse me," said he, hurriedly breaking open the envelope, " when I tell you— yes, I thought so — Violet North is, by Jove, in London ! " The Highlands were forgotten in a twinkling. " Oh, uncle, when is she coming over ? "cried Miss Amy, with piteous eyes. " Alivady back in London ! " cried IMrs. "Warroner. " And where is she Uving ? " cried young IMiller. !Mr. Druniniond stood out in the middle of the floor, holding the folded letter up in the air. " lla, ha, my young people, there are secrets here ; who will bid for them ? A thousand mines of Golcouda the first offer ! No advance on that ? — why " "Well, he stopped there — and all the merry-making went out of his face — for some one at the door said quietly, " May I come in ? " Amy AVarreucr ^\ as the first to answer ; and that answer was a ijuick, sharp cry of delight as she sprang to the door. Then the door was opened ; and a tall young lady walked into tlie room, with wonder, and gladness, and shyness on her handsome face. CHAPTER XL For a second or two she was smothered up in the embraces of the women ; then she turned, with heightened colour, and with a glad look in her eyes, but with a wonderful grace, and ease, and dignity in her manner, to^Ir. Druniniond and his guest. Amy "Warrener, herself " laughin' niaist like to greet," became aware in an instant that, although this was Violet North come back again, she was not (piite her own Violet of former days. There was some new and inexpli- cable quality about her — a sort of gracious self-possession that bespoke the development of womanhood. And yet it was with all a girl's vivacity and eager im- HOME loi pctnoiis curiosity that she began to pour out questions. Slie wanted to know all at once what they had been doing, where her school-girl friends were, how Miss Main was getting on ; and then she suddenly cried out — " Oh, you don't know how nice it is to be home again, and I could not feel at home in England until I came over here." " And don't you notice any changes ? " Drummond asked. " Oh yes," she said, looking more particularly at him ; " I scarcely understand it all yet. It is like a dream as yet — such a change from what I expected." " Two years make a difference," said he. " "We have not kept stationary any more than you have— and you ! — why, you have grown a woman." " Oh, but it was exactly the reverse of that I meant ! " she said, anxiously. " You look all so much younger than I expected — except Amy. Why, I used to look on you, IMr. Drummond, as — as rather " " As rather an old fellow ! " he called out, with a shout of laughter over her embarrassment. " AVell, I am old enough, Violet, to warn you not to make people such comi^iiments as these. And so you think we have grown younger ? " " You especially — oh, so much ! " " And I also ? " young Miller made bold to ask, though he cast down his eyes. Now these two had not spoken before. "When she came into the room, she had glanced at him with some surprise ; then, from time to time, she let her eyes fall on his face with an expression of a half-shy, half-hnmorous curiosity. Now she mustered up courage to look liiin straight in tli(! face ; and a trille of colour mounted into her checks as she answered, in a somewhat low and embarrassed way — • " 1 am arniid I scarcely can recollect well enough. You know our — our ac(|uaiiitance was very short." So she hiid not even taken the trouble to remember him I " I suppose," said he, rather curtly, " you made enough friends out there to pass the time with." " I forgot none of my friends in England," she said, gently. The reproof was just : 1h: Imd no right, bIio plainly I02 MADCAP VIOLET intimated, to put himself on a level with tlicse old friends of licrs. By this time the little party had got better shaken too'ether — tlie lii'st eap:er curiosity buino; over — and now Miss Violet began to tell them something of her wonderful adventures and experiences. But the strange thing was that the recital mainly proceeded from the lips of ]\lr. Drumraond. It was l)y the exercise of a curious, swift, subtle sympathy that ho seemed to divine what would be the notions of a girl in that new country ; and as she went on, mentioning one circum- stance after another, he took the parable out of her mouth and made himself her interpreter. No one noticed that he did so. It seemed to be Violet North herself talking. " Precisely," he would say, " I quite see how tliat half- civilized life must have struck you. Don't you see, you were getting tlun some notion of how the human race began to fight with nature long before cities were built. You saw them clearing the woods, making roads, building houses, founding small communities. You saw the birth of villages, and the formation of states. You saw the beginnings of civilization, as it were ; and the necessity of mutual helpfulness among the settlers ; and the general rough-and- ready education of such a life. Don't you think it must have been a valuable experience to find out how thoroughly new life can be ? Here in Loudon, I have no doubt, you got it into your head that the houses and shops must have existed there for ever ; that the trains to Ludgate Kill and Victoria were a necessary part of the Avorld ; that all the elaborate institutions and habits of city life were fixed and unalterable " " And then it was so interesting, in these places, to find out what sorts of food they had — I got quite learned in crops " " Ah, yes, precisely. There you saw food at its fountain- licad, not in blue packets in a grocer's shop. And of course every man would have a pride in his own fields, and ask you what you thought of his crops ; and you would come to see something else in a landscape than the mere colours that an English young lady would see. The cattle — did you begin to learn something of the points of the cattle ? " She had to confess her ignorance in that direction. HOME 105 *' Then the wilder and fiercer cattle, Violet — go on and tell us of buffaloes, and grizzlies, and mustangs — I have loved the word mustang ever since I was a boy. Gracious me ! how I used to long for the life of a savage — for prairies, and war-trails, and squaws, and mocassins : Violet, did you ever snare a brace of mocassins when you were meandering about the Rocky Mountains ? " " If I were you," she said, with a sweet sarcasm, " I would say, ' mocassins,' not ' mocassins ! ' " " Thus it is she crushes us with her newly-found know- ledge. But we are willing to learn. Violet, you shall teach us all about assegais and boomerangs — but those don't belong to America, do they ? — and we Avill admire the noble savage." "You were talking of the delights of a savage Hfe — in the Highlands — just before Miss North came in to surprise us," said George Miller. " Oh," cried Miss North, suddenly, " why didn't you go to the Highlands last year ? I thought you had determined to go every year after your first ex[ierience the year before last." "The truth Ls — " said Mr. Drnmmond, with some embarrassment. Young Miller broke in — proud to be able to convey information, " He won't tdl you, ]\riss North. The fact is he went and gave his holiday-money to a clergyman's widow to take her family down to the sea-side ; and if you ask my opinion about it, I think it was much too much of a good thing. I don't see the fun of — ." " Violet, what did you think of New York ? " said Drum- mond quickly. The girl laughed : she knew he was not anxious to know her opinion of New York, " liub you arc going this year to the Highlands ? " she said. " We hope so." " I wish 1 were going with you," the girl said, simply and naturally. "AVhy shouldn'L you ? " said (Jeorge I\lill(r, boldly. It \\a8 a pretty project that he then and there formed. Miss North would go up to that shooting-box with her I04 MADCAP VIOLET friends ; mid pleiismit indood would lio tho pnrtios tlicy would have in Llie evcniiij,^ when the toils of tlic day were over. And if a certain young man should happen to be in the neijxhbourliood — by the merest chance, of course — could so hospitable, and generous, and kindly a fellow as Mr. Drummond was, refuse to ofTer him a few days' shooting ? Then there would be odd moments now and again for clamlxrings up the hills, in order to sit on the sunlit rocks and listen to the humming of the bees, or for quiet and pensive strolls along the valleys in the cool of the evening with the mountains losing the last fire of the sunset, and a white mist gathering along the bed of the distant loch. 3Iiller looked anxiously for an answer to this proposal " Why shouldn't you ? " echoed Mr. Drummond. "We will make you welcome enough." "• You are very kind indeed," she said, with a smile ; " but I am under proper government now. Jjady North means to try to put up with me as well as she can ; and my sisters almost succeeded this morning in making me believe they liked me. So I am to stay on there ; and I suppose in consequence we shall move westward some day soon. That will be hard on poor papa ; for he will shift his house all for nothing — ." " Why, Violet ? " " Oh," said the young lady with her ordinary cool frank- ness, " Lady North and I are sure to have a fight — (piite certain. I think her a mean-spirited and tricky little woman ; she thinks that I have a frightfully bad temper ; 80 it will be just as it was before." " There you are WTong," said ]\rr. Drummond quietly. " It will not be as it was before ; but very dilTercnt. Do you know what people Avill say of you now if you and Lady North don't agree ? — why that you have such a bad temper that you cannot live in your father's house." " Perhaps that is true enough," she said, with great modesty — and Amy \\'arrencr saw something in her mis- chievous smile of the Violet of other days. " And then," continued her IMcntor, " formerly, when you had a quarrel, you could live at iMiss Main's school. Where would you go now ? Not to school again ? " *' Ab, well," she said, with a bright look, " don't let qs HOME 105 t.ilk of all those nnplcasr.nt things now ; for I am so olad to get back and be among you again that I am disposed to be humble and obedient even to my stepmother. And she is really tiying to be very kind to me just now. I am to keep the brougham to-night till eleven o'clock, if you don't turn me out before then. And Lady North is coming over to call on you, Mrs. Warrener ; and she wants you all to come to her next ' At Home ' on the 30th. I think you have got a card, Mr. ]\Iiller ? " "Yes," said he, with some ' embarrassment. "Do you think your father would object to my going ? " " Oh dear, no," she answered, confidently. " Papa never keeps up old scores ; and as well as I can recollect, you — you — seemed to have pleased him by going to him frankly. How silly we were ! " she added tjuickly, and with a return of the warm colour to her cheeks. They got away from that sul)ject also, however, and no other reference was made to it. The girl was altogether delighted to be with her old friends again ; and the changes she had noticed on her entrance became less prominent now. She submitted, just as she had done in her school-girl days, to be alternately lectured, teased, and laughed at, by ;Mr. Drummond ; and she did not mind his continually calling her Violet. Slie made ]\rrs. Warrener promise to ])ring them all to Lady North's party. She would have Amy come with her for her first drive in the Park, where, as her father had consented, she should herself drive Lady Nortli's victoria and pair of ponies. ^Ir. ^Miller got the least share of her attention. Tliesc two rarely spoke to each other, and then never without a little embarrassmcTit ; but very freciueiitly she had a ffuiet, curious look at liim, apparently trying to discover something. As for liim, he simply sate and stared at her — watching her every movement, fa8cinat(;d by her voice, her smile, the l)riglit frank look of tliose darkly-laslied eyes. I'ut a great joy wiis in store for him. For some jjurpose or other, she took from her pocket a small pencil, but found it was l)rokcn. "Oh, do let me g"t it mended for y'»u," said he eagerly. " I know a man who is capital for that." " Is it worth it ? " said she, handing it over. His reply was to take from his pocket a beautiful little. io6 M.mC.lP VIOLET ]tcii ami }t(.iicil-casc with a knife attached ; and this he bc.irsxcd her to aeco}it in cxchauj^c, as it was l)ettcr lilted for a hidy than for him. " In cxchanjjc ? " she said, with a smile that was wortli to him more than a thonsand pencil-cases. " That would l>e a ]n-otital»le exchant;'e. This one is gold ; mine is aluminium ; thank yon, but I could not rob j'ou." " AVell, at all events, you can keep it until I return you this one ? " " Oh yes," she said, " if you Avill be so kind." lie put that humble little pencil-case — worth al)Out five shillings — in iiis pocket with as much pride as if it had been made of ivory and diamonds ; and he secretly vowed that she should never see it again, even if she lived for a thousand years. Then, in the old familiar fashion of spending the evening which Violet knew so well, Mary the maid-servant came in with the frugal supper ; and there was great amusement over her wonder at seeing IMiss North. " How are you, Mary .? are you quite well ? " said that young lady, who was a great friend of all maid-servants and folks in humble capacity. " Oh yes, !Miss," stammered Mary ; — ■" I mean ma'am — I am pretty well, thank you." " Xow there is but one question more I have to ask," said A'iolet, as they all sate round the small white-covered table, " and I am almost afraid to ask it. Have they built over (irove Park yet ? " " Certainly not," was the answer. " And the big cedars are still tlicre, and the tall elms, and the rooks' nests 't " *' Not a thing altered since you left." " Ah, well ; do you know," she said, " when I used to think of the happiest time I ever spent in England and the most beautiful place I could remember, I always thought of those Christmas holidays I spent with you, and of our walks at night in the snow. Do you remember how we used to wander out when it was late, with the hard snow crackling beneath one's feet, and the gaslamps shining on the trees, and then we went away into the Park, under the shadow of those big cedars ? Then I used to think of the silence we HOME 107 got into — by the side of the meadows— one seemed to be up close to the stars, and you could not imagine there was any- body living iu those two or three houses. And as for Londou — though it lay quite near — you know, you could see or hear nothing of it — there was nothing all around but the white snow, and the black trees, and the stars. Do you remember all that ? " " But where is it ? " said young ]\Iiller, looking puzzled. Could she be talking so enthusiastically about some place in Camberwell ? " Over the way," she said promptly. " Five minutes' walk off." " And that is the most beautiful place you can re- member ? " said he. " And you have been to Chamounix ? " " Yes it is," she said, boldly. " I like Camberwell better than Chamounix, and therefore it is more beautiful. But 1 was speaking of the BuoAv-time, and the stars, and the (|uiet of the frosty nights. Perhaps you have never been into Grove Park ? If you walk round that way now " " I propose we do," said Mr. Drummond, " as soon as we finish supper. I am anxious to discover what it is iu the place that makes it the rival of Chamouiiix." " Don't you remember ? " she said, with great disappoint- ment visible in her face. " I remember the wonderful star-light nights and the snow, certainly," said he. " Very well," said she, " weren't they worth remembering ? As to Chamounix — well, as to Chamounix — what can one remember of Chamounix ? I know what I remember — crowded taUca dliolo, hot walks in stifling valleys, firing cannon and looking through a telescope, and all the ladies trying who could get up the most striking costumes for dinner. To go alwut a place like that with a lot of people you don't like " Here, for some occult reason, ViX. Drummond burst into a most impertinent fit of laughing. " Oh ye«," she said, with her colour rising, " I am nob ashamed to own it. I liked tlic people with whom I went walking about (Jruve Park, If that has anything to do with it, I am very glad of it, for the sake of the Park." " And they were very fond of you too, Violet," said her ,o8 MADCAP VIOLET old pclioolfi'llow. Amy, with unoxpoetcd decision. "And you arc ([uiLc rif,dil. ' And I woulil — I would hate Cha- nionnix, if I were you." ""Why, child, what do you know about Chamounix?" her motlier said, " I don't want to know anything about it — I hate it," So that closed the discussion, which had ended in a unanimous decision that Chamounix was a miserable and despicable place as compared with a certain chosen spot in Camberwcll. Now if ]\riss North's love and admiration for Grove Park were largely based on the romantic conditions in which she remembered to have seen the place, surely Mr. Miller's impressions were likely to be equally favourable. For when they went outside in'to the cold night air there was an appearance in the sky overhead that told how the moon was visible somewhere ; and they knew that when they got round into the high and open si)accs of the Park a vast and moonlit landscape would be unrolled before their eyes. Miss Violet and Mrs. Warrener led the way ; naturally the dis- coverer of this wonderful place was pioneer. There was scarcely anyone about ; the footfalls of the small party were ])laiuly heard in the silence of the Grove. They reached the gloomy portals of the Park — gloomy because of the cedars about — and then they left the region of bright gas- lamps and passed in and through the darkness of the over- hanging trees. llie night was indeed a beautiful one, though as yet they had not seen the moon. The sky overhead was clear and full of pale stars ; in the south a lambent planet was shining. How solemnly stood the great trees, their spreading branches of a jet black against the far-off vault of blue, not a rustic of their leaves breaking the deep stillness. There was a scent of hay in the air, one of the meadows adjoining liaving just been cut. Wiieu at length they had reached the highest portion of the Park, and got by one or two tall and silent houses, they came upon a wonderful spectacle. No dramatic surprise could have been more skilfully arranged ; for they had become accustomed to the clear and serene darkness of the night, the twinkling of the pale stars, and the still black- HOME I09 ness of the lofty trees ; and they had no further expectation. But all at once they found before them, as they looked away over to Sydenham, a vast and moonlit space ; the air filled with a strange pale glamour that seemed to He over the broad valley ; while the yellow moon herself hung like a great globe of fire immediately over a long low line of hill stretching across the southern horizon. These heights, lying under this glory of moonlight, would have seemed dusky, mystic, and remote, but that here and there glittered bright spots of fire, telling of houses hidden among trees, and overlooking the wide plain. It was a wonderful pano- rama : the burning stars of gold on the shadowy heights, the full yellow moon in the violet-grey sky, the pale light over the plain, and the black trees close at hand, the south- ward-looking branches of which were touched here and there by the mild radiance. Then the extreme silence of the place — as if that were a pageant all lit up in an unin- habited world — the cold, sweet night air — the mystery and sadness of the stars. " Ah, well," said Drummond, with a sigh, " it does not matter whether it is Camberwell or Chamounix ; you get very close to heaven on a night like this." Young Miller felt that in his heart too ; for he was standing beside Violet North ; and as she was gazing away down into the south, with absent and wistful eyes, he could watch with impunity the beautiful outlines of her face, now touch'jd with a wan and mystic light. He wished to speak to her, and yet he was afraid to break the strange stillness. She did not seem to be aware of his presence ; but it was with a secret thrill of i)leasure that from time to time his lingers were touched by the corner of the light shawl she wore. " Is tliia as fine as what you remember ? " he said to her, at length, in a low voice. She seemed t(; try to collect herself. She looked at him and said " Yes ; " but ])resently he saw her turn her head away, and lie liad just caught a glimpse of the great tears that stood in her eyes. "Young Miller, said Mr. Drummond, as they walked Vw:k, " we have beaten down your Ciiamounix ; we have destroyed .Mont lilauc ; the (Jlacier des Uossons is no more." r:o MADCAP VIOLET "Quite right," sakl the young man, humbly; "I give in." Xow when Yii)let got hack to the house, she found her father's brougham at the door, and she would nob enter with them. JUit she said to Mr. ]\liller, who happened to be her companion at the moment — " I have some little presents for my fricuds here ; would you kindly take them in for me ? " There was after all some school-girl shyness about this young lady ; she had not bad the courage to oifer them the presents herself. And how gladly he undertook the com- mission ! — he was proud to have her confidence in this small matter. Then she bade good-bye to them all. She was a little silent as she left ; it was like going away once more from home. '- Then I shall see you on the 30th," said George Miller, looking at her rather timidly. " Oh yes, I shall be glad to see you," she said simply ; aiul then she drove away. lie curried the parcels into the house ; they were all neatly wrapped up and addressed. He undertook the busi- ness of opening them and displaying their contents ; and lo ! there was on the table a wonderful assortment of gifts, with the fancy of a girl apparent in them. For she had brought strange Indian pipes, decorated w'ith silver and colours and silk, for ^\x. Di'ummond, and a little case con- taining a couple of revolvers with ivory and silver handles ; aud there were fans and a marvellous shawl for Mrs. AVar- rener ; and there was an extraordinary necklet of pale coral, with In-acelets and what not, for her daughter. James Drummond, gazing with astonishment at this goodly show, pronounced an oration over them. " There was once upon a time," said he, " a company of poor folk sitting very disconsolate in a room together, and they had grown rather gloomy, and tired of the dulness and greyness of life. And all at once there appeared to them a fairy princess, with a beautiful smile on her face ; and she came amongst tliem and talked to them ; and all the sad- ness went out of tbeir hearts ; andslie cheered them so that they iK'gan to thiidc that life was quite enjoyable aud lovely HOME 1 1 1 again. And when she went away, what did they find ? AVhy, she had left behind her, without saying a word about it, aU manner of precious and beautiful things, and the poor folk were ahuost afraid to touch them, in case they shoukl crumble away. But they didn't crumble away at all ; for she was a real, live, human fairy ; and hadn't she promised to come back, too, and cheer them up a bit now and again ? Young Miller, I am sorry she did not expect to see you too." The young man pulled out the aluminium pencil-case proudly. " Look at that," said he, '* ami that belonged to lierselfy " Xow, James," said IMrs. Warrener, with a kindly smile, '' what about her being hardened by all the railway-people r" " And oh ! how pretty she is ; and she is more beautiful than ever I " cried Amy, rather incoherently. Young !Miller was silent for a second or two. " I sup- pose," said he, rather gloomily, " if she stays with her father now, she will be going about a great deal, and seeing lots of Eeople. If she drives in the Park, every one will get to now who she is. How easy it is fur girls to have their heads turned by the attention they get." "It will take a great deal to turn Violet's head," said ^Irs. Warrener, gently. " There is plenty of shrewdness in it." When ^Fr. ]\Iiller set out to walk over to Sydenham Hill that evening, the notions that went whirling through his brain were alternately disijuieting and pleasing. Had he not this treasure of a pencil transferred from her pocket to Ills ? She liad breathed u]ion it many a time ; she had held it in her white, small lingers ; perchance she may in an absent moment have put it up to her lijis. It was a fair, still, moonlight night ; he took out the bit of aluniiniuni as if it had been a talisman, and kissed it a hundi'cd times. Then had she not ailmitted she would be glad to sec him on this ajiproaching evening ? and already another day was about to begin, to lessen the long ])roct'Ssion of dates. It was true that she was very beautiful and very proud ; slu; would have lots of admirers. Lady North was fond of society ; Violet would meet all manner of strangers ; they would know tliat her father was a rich man ; and they would 112 MADCAP VIOLET be eager to win the afTcctious of a girl who had beauty, money, everything to bestow. The wonderful moonlit land- scape was not BO lovely now, since she had driven away. The orange points of fire on the heights were almost extinguished. The world generally had grown less fairy- like ; but still he was to meet her in less than a fortnight's time. CHAPTER XII. WALPURGIS-NIGHT. Ox the very next afternoon Lady North and Violet paid the promised visit to ]\Irs. "Warreuer. Unluckily James Druinmond was not in the house ; but his sister had enough of his shrewdness of percei)tion to see how little likely it was that this stepmother and stepdaughter would ever agree — the one a in-ini, dignified, matter-of-fact little woman, who had a curious watchful and observant look in her cold grey eyes, and a certain affected stateliness of manner ; the other a proud, impetuous girl, who had the bitterest scorn of all preten(;e and an amazing frankness in showing it. Lady North, so far as her formal manner would allow, was profuse in her apologies to ]\Irs. AVarrener for the short notice she had given her ; and now it appeared that Avhat Violet had modestly called an " At Home " was in reality a fancy dross ball. George ]\Iiller had also been modest in the matter ; and had not told his friends of his having received an invitation. " It is so shoi't a time," said Violet ; "but I am sure you will come, !Mrs. AVarrener — and Amy too ■" " Not Amy, at any rate," said the gentle little house- mother, with a smile. " My only doubt, Lady North, is about my brother. I am afraid a fancy dress ball would not quite fall in with his habits." " My dear Mrs. WaiTener," said Violet, with the air of a woman of the world, " it docs not accord with anybody's habits ; but it is merely a harndess piece of fun, that even very wise people like. You have no idea how pleased he will be by the show of beautiful costumes. And I know he will come if you say that I particularly asked him. "We J FA LP URGIS-NIGHT 1 1 3 shall have finite a party by ourselves, you know — Mr. jMillcr is coming." "And what will be Im dress ? " asked Mrs. Warrener. "1 don't know," said Violet ; and then she added, with a sort of mischievous smile : " Tell him to come as Romeo. AVould he not look well as Eomeo ? Now do, Mrs. "War- rener, tell him that I wish him to come as Romeo." " Very well, A'iolet," said Mrs. Warrener, with a smile ; but she shook her head all the time — the school-girl had not wholly left this young lady. Now, strange to say, Mr. Drmnmond accepted the in- vitation with eagerness and delight — it happened to strike some fancy. In a second he was full of schemes of costume. He would go as this, he would go as that ; his sister must be Pharaoh's Danghter, must be Consuelo, must be Lady Jane Grey. In imagination he tumbled all the centuries together ; and played hop, skip, and jump through history. In the end he was forced to confess that he did not know what to do. There came to his aid a practical young man. "The simplest thing in the world," said George ]\Iiller, with a superior air. " You come with me to a man in Bow Street ; he will show you coloured plates ; you can have a dress made for you ; or you can see what he has. I will go with you : he will charge you ever so much too much if you let him." "And you — have you got your dress ? " asked Drummond, with a modest air, of this experienced jxirson. " It is being made," said he, carelessly. " I am going as Charles I." " I have a message for you as regards that," said INfrs. "Warrener, looking at him in her quiet and humorons way. "Violet was over here yesterday. She bade me tell you you must go to tlie ball as Jiomoo." All the carelessness went out of Liie young man's manner in a second. " No ! " said he " Did she really ? It is not a joke ? " " I have delivered the message as I got it." " I*>y Jove ! Then I nuist telegraph to them to stop the Charles I. dress — oh, I don't care whether I have to pay for it or not I — in any case I will go as Romeo." And then he I 114 MADCAP VIOLET added (luickly, Avith a flusli in liis f;icc : " Don't you think the joke a ^ood one ? She was making fun, of course ; lint ubat a joke it will be to surprise her ? " Forthwith it was arranged that these three should make up a little party to go to Bow Street ; and on their way thither it almost seemed as if Mr. Drummond had gone out of bis senses. Young Miller did not understand this kind of thing. Im;iginary conversations between discarded cos- tumes about the character of their successive wearers ! Ghosts getting into a cosfumicr^s repository, and having a fancy-dress ball by phosphorescent light ! He treated such nonsense with impatience ; he would rather have under- stood clearly what dress ]\Ir. Drummond proposed to wear. Then, even in presence of the grave and puzzled costumier, also ! Young ]\Iillcr, as a shrewd and practical person, per- ceived that tins was a matter of Inisiuess, and not a subject for all manner of whimsical absurdities. AVhere was the fun of bewildering a costumier, when that worthy person was patiently turning over the coloured plates ? "Mercutio," said Drummond. " Is that Mercutio ? How plump and well favoured he is. I always loved IMercutio — but I did not know he was so good-looking. They say ►Shakespeare killed him because he could not keep up the supply of jokes that IMercutio needed. They might as well say that God took and plunged the rivers into the sea lest there shouldn't be enough water left on land for a long river-course. That's why the rivers always take the nearest way ; and that's why poor old IMercutio was killed." Now what was the good of talking like that to this puzzled tradesman and artist ? Y'oung Miller had con- tinually to keep saying : " And how much would that be — in blue satin and velvet, for example ? " It was indeed very lucky for these two that George Miller had gone with them ; for, in the end, when they had finally made their choice, he suggested an arrangement which lessened the proposed cost by more than one half. The costumes were to be made according to sketches which Mr. Drummond was to supply ; but they were to remain the Eroperty of the costumier ; and only their temporary use to e charged for. Not only Mr. Drummond, but also his WALPURGIS-NIGHT 115 sister, ^dlO liad more to do with accounts, was quite im- pressed by the business-like way in which Mr. Miller drew up and ratified this contract. One evening that little garden in Camberwell saw a strange sight. It was nearly dusk ; under the cherry and apple-trees there was almost darkness. And what was this tall and silent figure, clad from head to heel in a cloak of sombre red, with a sword thrusting out the cloak behind, Avith a peaked black cap coming down on the forehead, the cap surmounted by a tall red feather that here and there brushed the leaves of the trees ? What manner of man was this, with ruddy shadows under the strangely vivid eyes, with cadaverous cheeks, with pointed beard and curled moustache, and with a iiendish grin on his lips ? Then a younger man stepped do^vn from the balcony ; and behold, the youth was bravely clad in blue and silver, with a cape of velvet hanging from his shoulders ; and there was a soft yellow down on his upper lip ; and a look of gay laughter about his handsome face. He, in turn, was followed by a beautiful and gentle creature, who wore her yellow hair in two long plaits behind, and who appeared in a simple dress of white, with its tight sleeves and its satchel touched here and there with blue. Strangely enough, as the three figures v.alkcd here and there through the twilight of the garden, Jilcphistopheles, Romeo, and jMargarct spoke the same lan- guage, and laughed with the same light laughter. It was their dress rehearsal : the solitary spectator being a young lady in the balcony, who said they looked like ghosts, and hoped she should not dreani of them that night. I'he important evening at length arrived ; and George ^Miller had arranged to dress at ]\rr. Drummond's house ; for he was quite sure that, without his supervision, Mcpliis- topheles would Ije found lacking in iiendish eyebrows and moustache. James Drummond was not accustomed to these things ; he was a mere child in the hands of young ^Miller, who dealt with this matter in a serious and didactic fashion. The big house in Euston Square was all lit up ; Chinese lanterns were hung along the covered way leading down to the gate ; and on the pavement a ]arg(; number of people liad assembled to wateh the arrivals descend from the I 'i ii6 MADCAP VIOLET i-arriiij^es aiul walk up tliat lane of diiiily-coloiired li^lit. TlicTo was a inuriiim- of surprise when a tall, piuut lij^ure iu sombre red stalked hy ; with a wliisi)er of " The Devil ! " Ronico was a little bewildered ; he was wouderinj? how Violet would b(> dressed ; whether she Avould be kiud or jiroud ; whether she would dance with nuiDy people. He resolved that he would not stay in the room if she danced with any one other than himself ; and he already hated that unknown stranger. lilore brilliant lights ; a sound of distant music ; Bomc servants, with staring eyes and anxious manner. Mr. Drimimoud laps young liomeo on the Bhoulder. "You arc in the way." He stands aside ; and two strange creatures go by. "Thank you," says one of them, courteously. "You have allowed two centuries to pass." As yet they are but encountering the outward ripples of the great whirlpool within. Cleopatra, proud and dusky, with golden ornaments pendant over her forehead, comes out into the cooler air of the hall ; she is attended by an executioner, draped in black, and masked. Whose are these enormous scarlet feathers sweeping back from the cowl ? — surely they and the long slashed cloak belong to a High Baron of Germany ! There, at the foot of the stairs, Mary Queen of Scots is chatting pleasantly with a tall youth dressed as chef de cuisine ; beside them stands the redoubt- able Jean Sansterre, the lights gleaming on his suit of chain-mail, his huge shield and battle-axe. Harlequin whips by ; the solemn IMaster of Ravenswood appears with Ophelia on his arm ; the mighty-hearted Barbarossa and the Fille du Regiment, laughing and talking together, are making for the ball-room. " ' Art thou not Eomeo, and a Montague ? ' " At the sound of that well-known voice our three strangers turned instantaneously : what wonderful vision was this ? — not the Violet North they knew, but Juliet herself de- scended in all her beauty fi'oni the moonlit balcony — her face a trifle pale, perhaps, but that may have been the reflected light of her robes of white satin — her magnificent black hair looking blacker because of this gleaming dress — WALP URGIS-NIGHT \ 1 7 her dark eyes full of fire, and light, and gladness — the proud, sweet mouth partly opened in the excitement of the moment, and just showing a glimmer of milk-white teeth. Young Romeo was altogether overwhelmed, blinded, be- wildered. What great condescension was this — or was she but toying with him : she, the full-grown woman still fancying that he was but a youth ? There was more of the girl than of the woman, however, in the delight of her face, in the eager fashion in which she insisted on showing them where Lady North was posted. " Violet, how lovely you look in that dress I " Mrs. AYarrener could not help saying, in an undertone. " Can we get up the stairs ? " the girl said. " Lady North is on the landing. Mr. Drummond, shall we lead the way ? " Surely Romeo and Juliet should have gone together. Romeo was rather silent when he saw that beautiful crea- ture in the white satin and pearls pass on with the tall iigm-e in sombre red. For a few seconds the crush on the stairs kept thorn jammed in and motionless at one point of the ascent. Violet turned round ; Romeo was just beneath ; and she said to him, with a tender sweetness — ■ "'IIdw ciim'Ht thou hitlier, tell me I and wliercTore? Thf! orchard walla arc higli, and hard t(j climb; And tiie place death, considering who thou art, If any of my kinsmen find thee here.' " He could not answer — 'his face flushed red with embarrass- ment ; but fortunately another upward movement on the pait of the crowd carried them on again and hid his vexation. " She has studied her part better than you have," said Mrs. Warrener, with a (|uiet smile. " Uow could I know ? " said he, almost angrily. " T did not know she would be Juliet. I sujjpose these are tiic speeches Juliet makes. And one looks such a fool I " " I'nt surely you know the pretty tilings that Romeo says to her ? " said his companion. " No, I don't," lie said gloomily. " Poetry was never much in my way. But-- ])nt if you know, Mm. Warreuer — couldn't you give me a hint or two " iiS MADCAP VIOLET '* 1 think uiy brother hiis takeu up your mrt," said she ; and then, indeed, they heard that IMephisiopheles and Juliet were addressing; oacliotliev in very beautiful language. (ieor<;e !MilKT leapt to the conclusion that there was a rrreat deal of exaggerated and tawdry scntinxeut about Shakespeare ; and that, in any case, theatrical stuff should be kept for theatres. On the landing, and in a recess so that her guests could pass by her into the ball-room, they found Lady North, who was very dignilied and veiy courteous. Her eldest daughter, Anatolia, stood by her. What made young Miller ask this rather plain young lady, so that his companions could distinctly overhear, for the next waltz she had free .'' He had not asked A'iolet to dance. They looked in on the wonderful assemblage of picturesque figures — certain groups of them here and there in motion — the sound of music all tlirough tlic place — the brilliant colours and diverse forms almost bewildering the eye. The fair Juliet, her hand still on the arm of the tall and sombre ^fi-phistopheles, showed him a certain little pink card. " I have not given away one dance yet," said she. " Do you wish me to ask you to dance ? " he replied. " Yes." *' It is Romeo Avho ought to dance with Juliet." " I wish to dance with you — or what is the same thing, I want you to engage me for one or two, that we may keep together, and see the people." " Give me your progranmie, Violet." He took it and managed, with some difficulty, to put certain hieroglyphs on it. " "Why you have put J.D. at every one 1 " cried Juliet. " Yes," said he, " that is what I should prefer. But I am not gi'cedy. Whenever you wish to cheer up the drooping spirits of your Romeo, I will set you free. What have you said to hijn, Violet ? " She turned round and regarded the young man with some wonder. He was certainly not looking well pleased. "Come," she continued, "I will take you all round by another way to the balcony, and you will see everything from there. That will be better than fighting across the room. But i»erhaps you wish to dance, ]\Ir. Miller ? " WALPURGIS-NIGHT 119 " No, thank you," said he, gruffly. She would take no notice of his manner. She said gently— " If you will follow us, then, we can go round to the balcony and have a nice cool place almost to ourselves. Shall we go, ]\Ir. Drummond ? " " I am no pilot," said he, in a tragic voice. " ' Yet wort thou as far As that vast shore washed with the furtliest sea, I wouhl adventure for such merchandise ! ' " " ' 'Tis 1)ut thy name that is mine enemy ! ' " she retorted, with a hght laugh, as she again took his arm and led him away. " ' Thou art thyself, though Mephistopheles. "What's Mephistopheles? It is nor hand, nor foot. Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part Belonging to a man. Oh, be some other name ! ' " " We appear to have got behind the scenes of a theatre," said young Miller, with savage contempt, to his companion. " Don't you think it is very amusing," said jMrs. Warrener, in her quiet way, " to see the gM play Juliet so well ? How delightfully gracious her manner is ! " " I think when you are on the stage, you ought to be on the stage," said he, bluntly ; " and when you're in a private house, you ought to be in a private house. I don't see the fun of all that tomfoolery." " Do you mean the fancy costumes ? " Mrs. Warrener asked, with gentle sarcasm. " (Jh d(jar no — I mean that poetry and nonsense." Certainly the small room through which they were now passing was, in one respect, like the gloomy corridors " behind the scenes." It was dark enough, l)ut they could at all events see that in the centre of the room a table was ])laced which had a white cloth on it. "Isn't I-ady North kind?" said Violet. "She has given me this room for us four, so that as soon as the others go down t(j supjier we can have ours in here, in (juiet and coolness." '"By whos(; direction fouud'st thou out this place?'" asked her companion. 120 AfADCAP VIOLET " Please, Moitliistuphelos-Roiiu'o, to keep to your owu s]">eeflios," sho observed, with some dignity. " That one beloni,'s to me." From this small room they went out on the balcony, whieh was hunt,' round with jiink and wliite, and lit up with Chinese lanterns ; and, passing,' alon«?, they came once more in sijrlit of the brilliant ball-room, at the open windows of which they now stood. Two or three others had discovered this quiet retreat — opportune for conversa- tion as well as atjreeablc on account of its coolness ; but somehow these dusky figures loved the darkness rather than the li>;ht, and Violet's party, assembled in front of one of the windows, was left pretty much to itself. She set to work to exorcise the demon — was it of some ridiculous jealousy ? — that had <(ot possession of this young man. She had not much trouble. Who could have withstood the l)right frank smile, and the friendly look of her beautiful dark eyes ? Besides, was he not iu Juliet's own balcony — not looking np to her, but actually with her — while there was no petulant nurse to call her ? " Don't you mean to dance at all to-night ? " said she. " No." " Not even with me ? " " Your card is full," said he, shortly. " That is but a joke," she said. " I asked Mr. Drummond to make sure I should have plenty of time to spend with my especial friends ; and he took the whole night ; and I am not sony. I fancy, ^fr. Drummond, you think that dancing would not accord with the dignity of Mephistopheles, don't you ? " " Nor yet with his age," said he. " Dancing is for young Romeos. Young Komeo, why are you lounging idly here ? " The younger man was looking rather wistfully at Violet. He was beginning to be sorry for his sulkiness. Would she forgive him ? Was her kindness real .'' Or was she only making fun ? " AVill you dance this waltz with me ? " said he, in desperation ; and she assented at once. They passed into the ball-room. " I thought you were to dance with Anatolia ? " she said, with a smile. WALPURGIS-NIGHT 121 " She had to stay by Lady North," he answered. " I — I am very glad." " You ought not to say such things : she is my sister. And why did you ask her ? " " I don't know," said he ; and presently they were lost in the whirling crowd. .Tames Drummond and his sister had watched them enter the room. They were a sufficiently handsome couple, these two young people, as they stood there for a moment together — the slim, square-shouldered young fellow in blue velvet and silver, with his fine features all lit up now by a new gratitude and pleasure, and the tall, shapely, proud- featured girl, whose hair seemed blacker than the raven's Aving in contrast with the gleaming white of her dress. After that they were visible but from time to time in the whirl of wonderful shapes and colours that moved to the light, rapid, and harmonious music. " That is the beautiful time of life," Drummond said to his sister, as they watched these two go by. " Youth, health, bright spirits, the joy of living — and yet there is some sadness about the spectacle. Not to them, of course ; only to the looker-on. They are not thinking of to-morrow, nor yet of middle-age, nor of any doubt or disquiet. Look at them — don't you wish you could make this moment eternity for them, and prolong that deliglit of rapid motion for ever and ever ? " " I do not," his sister said, promptly. " I don't know what you mean, .lames ; but you are always coupling these two together, as if they must necessarily marry." "AVhy not ? " said he, rather absently. "You know very well: the notion of a proud, high- spirited girl Hke Violet marrying a young man like that — ■ who has got no more imagination, or feeling, or mind, than a block of wood ! " " You are never fair to young Miller, Sarah ; he is quite as intelligent as most young men ; and he is far more willing to improve himself than any I know." " He sha'n't marry Violet." " You used to like him well enough." "Yes ; because I never dreamed that anything serious would come of tliat foolish adventure of theirs. But now I am sure 1Z2 MADCAP VIOLET lie means to marrv lior if she will marry liiin ; and I think she huH a, sort of half-tLudcr, half-romantic; interest in him at whieh she lanijhs, but which is likely to make mischief." " That is how yon describe marriai^^c ? " said he. lint at this moment the two yonu«f people came back — ilnshed, eager, gay in spirits ; liomco in especial being delighted, and showing his delight by being auxions to share it. INFrs. AVarrener nnist really go in and dance. The Hashing by of the dilVcrent characters was wonderful. Had she seen Henry VIII. go down ? AVhat was this perfume they were burning ? Then he was anxious that Violet should give him the next dance, and the next dance, and the next again. But slie refused. She was not going to desert her friend?. When this present dance was over, she invited Mej^his- topheles to walk with her through the room that they might look at the crowd together ; and llomeo and Margaret followed, the former quite glad and contented now. It is true that he had more rivals than ever. Violet North was known to but few of her stepmother's guests ; but the appearance of the girl was too striking to escape nnnoticed ; and there were all sorts of applications to Lady North for an introduction to the beautiful young lady dressed as Juliet. That young lady was exceedingly courteous to these successive strangers ; but how could she promise them a dance, seeing that her card was full to the very last line ? 80 the night went by, in music, laughter, and gladness ; and they had supper all by themselves in that little room, the fair Juliet being queen of the feast ; and Lady North sate with them for a time, and said some pretty things about ^Margaret's dress ; and Violet's father looked in on them, and said to young Miller, " Well, sir, been running away with any more school-girls lately?" As for the young lady herself, the light on her face was something to look at ; it seemed to one sitting there that youth had nothing more beautiful to give than such a night. " AVhat do you think of it all ? " she said to Mr. Dmmmond, when they went back into the ball-room, to look on at a slow and stately minuet that was being danced by a few experts. " Don't you thiidv it is lovely ? " WALPURGIS-NIGHT 123 " I am trying to think what you thiuk of it," said he. " To me the chief delight of it is the delight I see in your face. I have never seen a girl at her first hall before ; it is a good tiling to see." " Why do you speak so sadly ? " " Do I ? " " Yes. And when I am not by, I see you looking at the whole affair as if it were fifty miles away. I -wish you would dance with me, instead of merely standing and looking on like that." " It is for young Romeos to dance," that was all he would say — and he said it very kindly to her ; and indeed at this moment young Romeo did come up and claim the next dance, so that she v/cnt away with him. A little time after, when the loud music ceased, and there was nothing heard hut a newly-awakened hum of conver- sation and the shuflling of feet, young Romeo said to his partner — " Shall we go through that little supper-room, and surprise them in the balcony ? " " If you like," she said : she was ready for anything. They got out and round to that small room ; the candles were still burning brightly on the talkie. She was leading the way, for there was room but for one to pass, when he jjut his hand on her hand to detain her. She looked round in some surprise. " Just a second," said he, and she could not understand why his eyes should look so anxious. " I want to speak to you, Violet — I have something to say to you •" Then she understood him in a moment ; and she drew back, afraid. Her first impulse was the school-girl one, to beat a sudden retreat into the balcony ; her second [the woman's one, to implore him to spare them both the unnecessary pain of a request and refusal. But she had miscalculated his intentions. "Only this," K;iid he, in nervous haste, "will you promise mo not to inari'y anybody for two years to come 'i " It was a stninge re(iuest ; a dcclarution of ji'alousy rather than of love. The girl was rather pali', and she was certainly frightciKJd : had she had more self-possession sho would have laughed. 1 : 4 AfADCA P VIOLE T " I don't (piito know what you mean," she said. " I am not likely to many any one— I don't think of marrying any cue " "All I want is a chance," he said, and lie put hoth his hands over that one tliat he still held, while he looked in lier face. " You will let me hope that some day I may l>orsuade you to he my wife " " I cannot i>romise — I cannot promise," she said, almost wildly. "1 don't ask you," he said. "Violet, now don't be hard." She looked at him — at the entreaty in his eyes. " What do you want me to say ? " she asked, in a low voice. " That you will give me leave to hope that some day you will marry me." " It is only a ' perhaps ' ? " she said, with her eyes turned to the floor. " It is only a ' perhaps,' — that is all," he said, eagerly. " Very well, then." In his transport he would fain have kissed her ; but he was afraid ; ho kissed her hand passionately, and said she was an angel of kindness. " And then," said he, " Violet, you know I must ask your father's permission " " Oh, no, no ! " she cried instinctively, feeling that that would pledge her more and more. " But only as between him and me," tlie young man said, with the same impetuous haste. " You have nothing to do with it. You are not bound by that. But of course he sees already why I have become so intimate with the rest of the family ; and this would only be putting everything straight and above-board " " Oh, very well," said she, rather quickly. "There must be no stupid secret this time. And you will tell my father that I have not promised to marry you — that it is only " " I will tell him everything. Violet, how kind you are ! " " Come away," she said hurriedly, and her face was pale. " You must dance with Mrs. Warreuer." WALPURGIS-NIGHT 125 What bad sncldenly raised the spirits of this young- man to the verge of madness ? He seemed drunk with delight his face was afire with pleasure ; his laughter extravagant ; bis speech rapid and excited. "Violet, on the other hand, was pale, concerned, and silent. When George Miller took Mrs. Warrener away into the room, Yiolet, left alone with Mr. Drummond, said little, but that little was said with an unusual earnestness of tone. He would have been surprised by it but that he knew how anxiously kind she always was to her old friends. He drew her attention to a strange blue light that began to be visible even through the ruddy awning of the balcony. It was about time they were getting home. " And I am so glad that you have been amused. I sliould have been miserable if you had taken all this trouble and been disappointed." " Do not fear that," said he, with a smile. " To look at your enjoyment would have been enough pleasure for any one." It was, indeed, the cold grey of the morning when these strange ligurcs issued out of the ruddy hall and made their way home in the new and pale light. Of what were they all thinking, now that another day had come, and the hurry and excitement of that Walpurgis-night over and gone for ever ? One young man, in a four-wheeled cab, making for Piccadilly, was communing with himself thus : " How handsome she will look at a dinner-table ! In her case, any way, a man might fairly be proud of taking his own wife out for a drive. I wonder what my father will do for me — sur(;ly soinetliing handsome ; and then, if her father gives her anything at all decent, w(! shall get on very well. Jiy Jove, wliat a i)reciou8 lucky fellow I am ! And she sha'n't have to fear any neglect or unkindncss from me ; I see too much of tliat going on." In anotlier vebicle, going in another direction, a tall, thin, middle-aged man, looking rather sad, worn, and tired, was talking to his sister. But surely not of I be fnncy-drcss IniU ? " I suppose," lie was saying, in his absent and dreamy way, "that iloland, the brave kniglit Kolaml, never existed. 126 MADCAP VIOLET I don't much care about that ; for the man who imagined such a perfect type of manhood — wlio, among all the trivialities and conimonj^lacc of the life around him — the lircakfasts, dinners, and sujjpers, the rising in the morning to wash your face — the wretched details of one hour after another — well, I think the man who managed in the midst of all that to imagine such a splendid figure as Roland was far gi'cater than the Roland he created. Don't you think so, Sarah ? I don't care whether King Arthur ever lived ; because a greater than Arthur lives now, and tells us about him. And yet I tliink that Tristram is the bravest knight, and has the most picturesque story, in the 3lorte d\irthi(r." And again — but surely this had nothing to do with the fancy-dress ball ? " I wonder if the wise men of Egypt wished to teach the people a lesson in humility when they made the beetle an object of worship ? Or was it a challenge to faith ? Fancy what an imposture the owl was as a symbol of Minerva — ■ the biggest fool of a bird you can find. I suppose owls don't eat grapes ; but no bird but a half-blind owl could have been such a fool as to peck at Zeuxis' painted grapes." And again — but what on earth had this to do with the fancy-dress ball ? " What a line thing it must have been to carry about with you a sword — the sort of consciousness, I mean, of having the power of life or death with you. If you were weak, the sword became part of yourself, and gave you strength. Now they go to war with engines and machines ! — and I suppose you seldom know you have killed a man. But don't you think that a great war must leave behind it, in thousands of human Ijosoms, a secret consciousness of having committed murder ? — a suspicion, or a certainty, that a man must not even mention to his wife ? — the half glimmer of a dying face, the horrid recollection of a splash of blood ? " In the house which these three people had just left a young girl sate alone in her own room, her face bent down, her hands clasped on her knees. " Have I promised — have I promised ? " this was what she was thinking. " How anxious and pitiful he looked — and tliat is the time that foincs Ijut once to a girl, to be FIRE AND WATER irj kind or to be cruel to her first lover. I could not be cruel ; and yet I am not deeply pledged. "\Vc may find out it is all a mistake, after all ; and when we are old, I dare say we shall laugh over our youthful romance. When will he speak to my father ? " Her thoughts took another turn — fled southward with the speed of lightning : " Oh, my good, kind friend," she would have said, if she had translated her fancies into speech, "why were you so sad to-night, and silent, and far-away in your look ? You said you were pleased — only to please me. Have you no one to ask you what yon are thinking about, when you look like that ? And don't you know there are some who would give their life — who would willingly and gladly give their own worthless life away — if that would brighten your sad eyes and make you cheerful and happy ? " CHxVPTER XIII. FIRE AND WATER. If George ]\riller had any hope of winning Yiolet North for a wife, he set about the tiusk in the most wrong-headed of fashions. A little more imagination, and of the perception that accompanies imagination, would have shown him the folly of prematurely brandishing in the face of a high- spirited girl, who dearly loved her liberty, those shackles of matrimony which ought to have been kept in the back- ground, or altogether concealed. He would have seen that his best chances hung on his fostering that sentiment of half-humorous, half-tender lomance with which she was disposed to regard her youthful lover ; he ought to have let the gentle ])roces3 of time strengthen this sentiment ; he ou^ht to have accustomed her to the notion of losing her liberty by slow and insidious degrees. The matter-of-fact young man missed all that. He wanted to know exactly how they stood. He could not understand why they should not be engaged like other people. "What harm was there in a ring ? In a word, he was anxious to take jiossession of a beautiful wife ; while she regarded his claims uj^on Iwr with suqjriso and distinct aversion — hence all manner of 128 MADCAP VIOLET lovers' (lUrtiTcls, wliich were excitint,' cnon,i,'li, l)iit rather danijorous. First of all, he had ^ouc to 8ir Acton North, wlio re- ceived him with much friendliness. " What ! " said he, when the young man had told his story, "you run away with a girl, and then you come and ask her father for iK-rmission to court her ! That is putting the horse behind the cart, isn't it ? " ]\Ir. ^liller was very nervous ; but when liis proposed father-in-law was good enough to make a joke, he was bound to laugh at it ; so he grinned a ghastly grin. " "What does she say, eh ? What does she say herself ? That is the point." Indeed the great railway engineer could have no objec- tion to the young man as a husband for Violet. He was of a rich and reputable family ; he was young, good-looking, apparently good-tempered ; his business prospects were excellent. There was another point to be considered. Sir Acton had a suspicion that the truce between his wife and her stepdaughter was dangerously hollow ; at any moment the gu'l might have to go ; and whither could she go ? If she wanted to marry this young man, why should she not ? Moreover, he knew he would be paying a compliment to Lady North in rather encouraging the attentions of this young man ; so that, while he pleased himself by rendering Violet's future more secure, he would make his consent a favour granted to his wife. This is always good policy on the part of a husband. " Well, sir," young Miller answered, " I have asked nothing definite. I thought it better to come to you first." " Quite right, quite right. AVell, you must question her- self, you know ; but be cautious." George ]\Iiller was rather puzzled by the twinkling light that came into the grey eyes of this big, white-bearded man. " She wants dealing with," said her father, frankly. " She won't be mastered, ilowever, she has been very (juiet and good since we came back from Canada — perhaps that will last." These cautions were rather ominous ; but then a young man is always convinced that he knows a dozen times as FIRE AND WATER 129 mucli about the iiatiu'e of his sweetheart as her owu father or mother knows, who has only lived with her for a matter of twenty years or so. " There is another point," said George Miller, pulhng his courage together, and proceeding to talk with a business- like air. " Of course I don't know what she will say ; but it may be better if I tell you how my money matters stand. I hope shortly to have about 'JOU/. or 1,000/. a year from this partnership. Then when I marry, I expect my father will give me 20,000/. I don't see how he could give mo less than that, because he gave as much to my sister, when she married, and I am the only son." " When you get it, don't put it in railways," said Sir Acton, briefly. " Oh dear no," said young Miller (though he would have liked half-an-hour's chat on this matter Avith so competent an authority). " If I can't get two or three good mortgages — and I suppose it is difficult to get them now-a-days at live per cent. — I mean to spread the money over half-a-dozen of the best foreign stocks ; and that way you can average nearly five per cent, without very much risk." " Very good — \'ery good," said Sir Acton ; " but keep it nearer four. Four is quite enough ; there is never any great safety over four." "And then," said the young man, nitlier hesitatingly, " I suppose I shall have about 2,000/. a year." " Very good ; quite enough to live on," was Sir Acton's basiness-like reply. " Too much, I should say, for young jjcople. You ought to save on that." Young Miller waited for a second ; he seemed to expect that Sir Acton would say sonicthing more. AVaa there to JKJ no mention — not even th»; least hint — of the possible dowry on the other side ? A servant came to say the carriage was below. " You will excuse me, I am sure," said Sir Acton, shaking hands witli the young man. " You will go into the draw- ing-room, I suppose — 'the girls are sure to be there." " Sir .\clon," ]\Iillfr said, stopping him, " 1 haven't told you bow grateful J am to y(ju for — for " "No, no, not at all," replied the other, as he hurried away. "You settle it all with her." I30 MADCAP VIOLET i\Ir. jMillor crossed the passage, and entered the drawing- room ; the music ceased as he did so, and one of Lady North's daughters left the piano. Altogether there were four girls in the room ; one of them being Violet, who, knowing that George Miller was in the house, and guessing the object of his visit, had taken refuge with her half- sisters, so that he should not find her alone. It was a large and soml)re apartment; for Lady North and her daughtere aJVectcd high art in the matter of house- decoration. What with the dark painting of the ceiling, the bottle-green paper and brown panellings of the walls, the deep unrelieved red of the carpet ; the black cabinets, and the stained windoAvs, the spacious and melancholy chamber looked like a great sepulchral vault. It used to be said — but the statement was not true — that Lady North's daughters, when they happened to be at home in the evening, sat in a row in this solemn apartment, all of them silent, all of them dressed in white, each holding a tall white lily in her hand, and having a silver star in her hair. At the present moment, at all events, they were not so engaged. They seemed singularly disturbed, restless, and embarrassed when Mr. Miller entered — all except Violet, who, to tell the truth, looked a little impatient and angry. First of all, the young lady who had been playing said she wished to find some music somewhere ; and left the room. After a second or two, another came to the conclusion that Sally would never find the music ; and so she set off to look for it. The colour in Miss Violet's face deepened. Then the tliird and remaining sister sprang up and said, — " Isn't that the postman, Violet ? Oh, I must go and see what he has brought." This was too much. " You know it is not the postman," she said, hotly. " I wish, Anatolia, you would stay where you are." " I shall be back directly," said Anatolia ; and then she went quickly, leaving these two in solemn silence, both embarrassed, and one inclined to be vexed, angry, and rebellious. "Why should you wish them to stay in the room, Violet '( " he asked. " Because I don't like to be made a fool of. They know FIRE AND WA TER 131 quite well why you are here to-day. And they believe — they believe — I cannot tell you what nonsense they believe ! " "I know," said he. "The girls are sensible. They believe we are engaged, or about to be. Why shouldn't we be engaged .' " " Because I do not choose to be engaged." " Everybody approves of it," said he. " Yoiu' father has no objections ; I am sure Lady North would have none ; and I can answer for my people that they would be delighted. And that is another thing, Yiolet — I should so like to introduce you to my family." " You are very kind," she said ; " but I don't see why I should be introduced to them any more than to other families whom I don't know." " Well, that is rather strange," said he, " considering our relations." " I was not aware of any relations existing between us." " Oh, indeed." " No." " I think you arc in rather a bad temper to-day." " I don't wish to offend you," she said, " but it is better to tell you the plain truth. When you talk about an engagement, and about being introduced to your friends you make me wish I had never seen you -, you do, indeed. Look at those girls going away — because they think we have secrets to talk over." In her impatience she got up and went to the piano. " What would you like me to play for you ? " she said, coldly. He was quite as much inclined to be angry at this moment as she was ; but he was afraid of the consequences. She was in a mood that might work mischief if she was provoked. "Violet," he said, "do be reasonable. You are too ])roud. You dislike the notion of people imagining that you — well, that you care enough for me, or for any man, to think of marrying him. But every girl has to go through that ; and if the truth were known, other girls don't laugh at Ikt — they envy her. T do not wish to force you to do anything you don't like ; t say I K- -J 132 MADCAP VIOLET oxpn-lcd a little better treatment wlieu 1 came here to-day." " I don't wisli to treat you badly, or goodly, or any way," she said, with indignant incoherence. " AVliy can't we l)e friends hke other people ? I wish to be kind to you — I do indeed. All the time I was in Canada there was nobody in England I thought more about than you — at least there was next to nobody. And when I saw you over at Mr. Drummond's I thought it would be such a nice thing to be friends with you. And now you want to drag me into engagements and interviews •" "Well, you are a stupid girl," said he, with a sudden burst of good humour. " Don't you know that you are so pretty that I am bound to try to secure you for my wife ? You might go and marry somebody else while that nice friendship was the only bond between us. Come, Violet " He took her hand ; slie drew it away. " What shall I play for you ? " said she. He suddenly regarded her with a suspicious look. " Perhaps," said he, with equal coldness, " you have reasons for not wishing that we should be engaged ? " " Plenty," she said, frankly. " Perhaps there is some one else to whom you would rather Ijc engaged ? " A mischievous notion got into her head at this moment : she answered nothing. " Am I right ? " he said, with an affectation of lofty calmness. " What if you are ? " she said, looking down. His calmness Avent. "Then 1 consider," he said, warmly, " that, if that is so, you have been treating me shamefully — letting me come here on a fool's errand ; — but I don't believe it— I tell you I don't believe " " You don't believe what ? " " That you are likely to be engaged to some one else ? " " I never said anything of the kind," she said, with provoking sweetness. " I thought I had been telling you how I abhorred the notion of being engaged to anybody. If you choose to imagine a lot of foolish things, I cannot FIRE AND WATER 133 help it. I wished to be very friendly with you. I dou't see why you should get into a temper. You have nut told me what you wish nie to play." " Thank you," he said, " I think I must go now." She rose, with great gentleness and dignity, and offered him her hand. " I am sorry you are going so soon," she said. He stood looking at her with irresolution, regret, anger, and disappointment, all visible at once in his face — disap- pointment most marked, perhaps. " Some men," said he, calmly, " would call your conduct by an usrly name — they would say it was the conduct of — a flirt."" The word seemed to sting her like a horsewhip. " I never flirted with any one iu all my life," she said, fiercely. " Xo one would dare to say such a thing to me ! " " Why not ? " he said, forgetting all his calmness, and becoming as vehement as herself. " You allow a man to ask you to marry him " " How could 1 prevent that ? " "You allow him to go to your father, and make arrange- ments, and have everything understood, and then you turn round on him, and say there is nothing understood, and hint that you would rather be engaged to somebody else, and all that — and that is not the conduct of a flirt ? I wonder what is ? " " Then," said she, with flashing eyes, " if that is your opinion of me, you had better go." "Yes, I will go," said he ; and he crossed the room, took up liis hat, bowed to her, and went out. Siie sat down, with flaming cheeks, to the piano, and tried to ]»lay. That was not of much use. She rose, and, hastily going to her own room, flung herself on the bed, and burst into a flood of passionate and angry tears, vowing to herself a thousand times tliat she would never again liave anything to say to any man of woman born, not if she were to live a thou^aml years. ,34 MADCAP VIOLET CnAPTER XIV. "like getting home again." The Clip of her sorrows was not yet fnll. When she had quite exhausted her iudiguation over the perfidy and \m- reasonableness and bad temper of mankind, and when slie had (juite resolved that she would never marry— no, not if a king's son were to entreat her— she got up, and washed her face, and arranged her hair, and went to Lady North. In a humble and submissive tone she asked the little, dignified grey-eyed woman to let her have the brougham for that evening. Lady Xorth was surprised and offended. Her daughter Anatolia had run quickly to tell her that now there was no longer any doubt about Violet being engaged ; for Mr. Miller was in the study in confidential talk with Sir Acton ; while Violet, silent and embarrassed, sate in the drawing- room, and would answer no questions about the young man. When, therefore, Violet now presented herself before her stepmother, that lady naturally concluded she had come to inform her of the engagement. In place of that she only asked for the brougham. " Violet," said Lady North, coldly, " I do not think that this excessive secrecy becomes a young girl.'' "I don't know what you mean," the girl said, with a sudden flash of indignation in her eyes. " What secrecy ? " " I do not wish to inquire, if you do not wish to confide in me," said the other, in her slow, precise fashion. "I should have thought I was the proper person to whom you ought to have come for advice. I have no doubt you want the brougham to go over to your friends in Camber- well ? " " I am very glad to have friends in Camberwell," said the girl, proudly. " It is something to have true friends anywhere. But what is the secrecy ? What have I con- cealed ? " " You appear not to know," said Lady North, fixing her cold, keen, grey eyes on the girl, " that I was aware of Mr. Miller being with your papa ? " ''LIKE GETTING HOME AGAIN'' 135 " And what is that to mc ? " Violet said, rapidly, and with hot cheeks. " Why shoidd I come and report to you what does not concern me ? If you were anxious to know what my father and !Mr. Miller were talking about, why not ask themselves ? There is something quite as bad as secrecy and concealment — and that is suspicion — constant suspicion, watching you at every turn, when you have noLhiiig at all to conceal " She suddenly altered her tone ; drawing herself up, and speaking with a certain proud indifference : " I suppose you don't wish me to have the brougham ? " "Your papa won't be home till late this evening. Ecally, the responsibility " " All right," said the girl, turning towards the door, " a four-wheeled cab will do as well." " Ah ! Yiolet," said her stepmother, with a sigh, " no one seems to have the least control over you." " No, because no one has ever cared to have," said the girl, bitterly, as she left the room — " never since I was born." When she got outside the house, she seemed to breathe a freer and fresher air. Adventuring out by herself in this fashion did not seem to concern her much. She had no difficulty in getting a four-wheeled cab : and she bade the man, before crossing Waterloo Bridge, stop for a few minutes in the Strand. She went into one shop, and bought a huge flagon of lavender-water, or some such scent : that was for IMrs. Warrener. She went into another shop, and bought a beautiful little kerchief : that was for Amy. Then she went into a bookseller's shop. " I want you to give me a book on philosophy, if you please," said the handsome young lady, in her gentlest way. " Certainly," said the bookseller ; and then he waited further instructions. " Oh, but I don't know what," she said, obsei-ving this. " You must tell me. It is for a gentleman who has studied nearly everything ; and it must be a very good one. What LS the best one you have got ? " " Really I don't know," said the bookseller, with a smile. *' Here is John Stuart Mill's " 136 MADCAP VIOLET " Oh, he won't do at all," said Violet, promptly ; " he is alive." The booksclliT beuan to bo interested and amnsed. " I beg your panlon," said he, respectfully, " but you do not mean that your friend is ^viser than anybody alive ? " " I did not (juite say that," she answered, simi)ly. " However, you nnist give me something he is not likely to have read — something very dillieult, and first-class, and good." Now if this customer had been a fussy old gentleman in spectacles, or a wrinkled old lady in black satin, the book- seller would have politely declined the responsibility ; but there was a good deal of persuasive influence in the presence of this tall and handsome girl, with the big dark eyes and the sweetly-parted lips. He did not even laugh at her. He was most kind and patient in making suggestions, and in taking her round the shelves. And at last she pounced upon the proper Ijook in triumph ; for she remcnibered to have heard Mr. Drummond complaining that Mr. Darwin's last book had not arrived fi'om the library, and here were the two green volumes of the Descent of Man staring her in the face. " I am sorry to have given you so much trouble," she said, with one of her most charming smiles. " I am sure it is no trouble at all," said the bookseller, with quite unusual emphasis ; and then, when the glass doors had shut behind that beautiful vision of youthful grace, he could not help wondering who was the ha])py man who had won the admiration and reverence of so lovely a creature. So Violet and her treasures were bundled into the ancient four-wheeler ; and once more she set out on her journey. By this time the lurid and sultry evening had died down into a gloomy and thunderous darkness ; and by the time she had got near to Camberwell Grove night seemed to have come on prematurely. The lamps were being lit as the first low rumble of the thunder was heard ; and presently the people began to flee from the pavements, where the splashes of the rain were leaving marks of the breadth of half-a- crown. The cabman stopped in order to pull out a water- proof ca]K', ''LIKE GETTING HOME AGAIN'' 137 "Why don't you drive on and get underneath the trees ? " she called out to him ; for they were now near the foot of the Grove, "When at length he was forced to pull up under the thick hranches of the tall elms, the rain was coming down in fierce straight torrents, hissing out in the middle of the road, and rushing down the gutter in a brown flood, x^ll the ominous stillness of the evening had gone ; the wind had risen and was blowing about the sununits of the elms and poplars ; there was an echo of the distant thunder from time to time ; the dark green branches swayed and creaked. By slow degrees, however, all this noise and tumult ceased ; there was a pattering of heavy drops in the trees, but less hissing of rain in the road, as the cabman resumed his journey, and proceeded to urge his patient steed up the steep hill. Now when Violet stepped out of the cab, up there near the top of the hill, all the world had grown clear and sweet after the rain. There was a look of lingering twilight in the sky ; and one or two stars were becoming visible ; while the high black branches of the trees seemed to delight in the wet, as they stretched up there into the pale serenity of the heavens. As she walked round and into the garden some quaint fancy struck her that she was herself like tliis sultry and sulky evening that had at last burst into torrents of rain and then become calm and serene. A great peace- fulness stole in upon her heart as she passed through the small garden -gate ; it seemed to her that now she was at home, and at rest. And clear and still as the sky now was with its pale stars beginning to twinkle, it Avas no more cleai", and still, and i)lacid than tlie light that shone in her eyes when she went furwai'd to greet her friends. Thffy had come out directly the sliower was over, to breathe tin; sweet fresjiness of the air and the scents of the IJowers, They, of conrse,'were almost in darkness ; l)nt the Rinall cottage was lit up ; and wlnit could be a more cheer- ful ])irtnre than the open French windows of the ]ai-lonr, all aglow with orange liglit, and showing the bright, warm snugnrss within ? 'i'liey were compassionating her on having encountered the fierce storm ; she felt as though she 138 MADCAP VIOLET \\o\M tiladly liavc encountered a dozen sucli storms to reach this haven of shelter and |x;ace at last. " Ah ! you don't know," she said to Mrs. Warrener, with her arm linked in hers — " yon don't know what it is to feel like p;eltini,' home again." "Bnt I know how glad I am to hear you say that, Violet," her friend said \ " for sometimes I think you are snre in time to go away and forget all about us." " Yes— whcu I am dead," said the girl. " Not before then." They went indoorj^, and, when Violet had put her hat aside, she sat down to the piano, and asked Amy to sing to her. She suggested the song too, for she began to play " Home, sweet home ; " and then the companion of her school-girl days sang, in a simple, tender fashion, the old familiar ballad. What was James Drummond doing mean- while ? lie was lying back in his easy-chair, regarding rather wistfully the figure at the piano, and saying to himself — " Is it possible, then, that this girl has never had the sensation of being at home and at peace except in the house of people who are little more than strangers to her?" She came away from the piano, and sate down on a stool which was lying on the hearth-rug. " You don't think it a very clever song ? " she said to him, timidly : it was a sort of apology for asking a person of his superior culture to listen to school-ghl sentiment. " I don't think cleverness has much to do with it," said he. " Did you ever carefully read the words of a song that pleased you ? Does anybody ? No, no. A chance phrase of tenderness touches yon ; and you give up all the rest — you are fascinated by some note of farewell, let us say, at the beginning of the lyric, and you forget afterwards to look particularly at the despairing sighs, and the raging main, and the usual stock-in-trade of the song-writer. That is how I look at it, anyway. The song-writer has only to catch you with a bit of melody, or sentiment, and you don't search for sense subsequently. "But indeed, I have always had a suspicion of rhymed poetry " ''LIKE GETTING HOME AGAIN'' 139 Here slie clasped her hands over her knees. She had started him off. She was happy. " I have always a sort of suspicion that the man has been led to overstate, or understate, or invent a new theory alto- gether, at the diabolical temptation of a rhyme or a par- ticularly catching phrase. I cannot be sure of it ; but I always suspect it ; don't you see ? I believe that the suETgc'Stiou of a happy rhyme is responsible for many a brilliant flight of fancy and for many a poetical assertion that is now taken to be full of a deep philosophy. Oh, by the way, about those lyrics : don't you notice how many of the Scotch songs consist of nothing but one or two catching phrases continually repeated ? The phrase is something to sing, something a mother could dandle a baby to ; there is no sense in the repetition, no story to tell, nothing in fact — but the song passes muster as a fine song for all that. But talking about songs is like scraping a rose-leaf to see where the colour is. AVby did you leave the piano, Violet ? AVon't you sing something now ? " " Ah ! no," she said. " My songs are all wicked songs — they are all about drinking and fighting ; for I used to wish I could be a student at a German university — that was about the only ambition I ever had — and be able to drink flagons of beer, and fight with broadswords, and sing the Burschenlieder. IMy songs are mostly Burschenlledcr now — they are too stormy for such a quiet, pleasant evening. I proi)Ose that we go on chatting : Mr. Drummond — do you really think there was ever such a person as Ossian ? " But this bid for the higher criticism was too obvious : Mr. Drummond burst into a fit of laughter. " Miss Violet," said he, "you sliall not induce mc to talk your head off. !My dear friends, we will ])osti)one our lecture on Ossian until we can look across to the blue bills of Morvcn — more esjx'ciiilly as T li<:ir the Immble but useful Mary rattling the supper things ahoiit the jjjace." At this moment, indeed, ]\Iary came into the room, and began to lay the cloth. "You were speaking of the Highlands?" saiil Violet, timidly. "Yes," said he, "I fear we arc discounting all the ])leii- r4o MADCAP VIOLET sin\s of tlie expedition l)y cunt imially dreaininu; and dreaniiiisi; ol it. " oil, 1 nni sni-e not," slie said, rafclicr wistfully. " It will l)e most enjoyable for you, 1 know." " But do you know this also," said lie," that I am taking- it for granted you are coming with us too ? " " James," his sister remonstrated, " Ivcfore you can take that for granted you must s])eak to Lady North." " I should hke to go," Violet said ; and thereafter she was rather silent for a time. There were but two things on which James Drummond prided himself — his judgment of landscapes and his juethod of making a salad. On the present occasion this latter task, as well as that of preparing some claret-cup, kept him busily occupied for several minutes, during which time nothing further was said about that projected journey northward. But by and by, as they all sat comfortably round the white little table, he began. It is highly probable that he himself imagined a general conversation was going on about the sea, and the hills, and shooting, and sailing, Avhercas, as a matter of fact, not a human being spoke but himself, the others being only too delighted to listen. For, as he rambled on it seemed as if there Avas a sound like the lapping of sea-waves in his talk — just as there is in the ]\Iermaid's song in Oheron ; and his mute audience saw, as he himself seemed to sec, a succession of pictures — the early morning, with the scent of sweetbriar in the garden, and the grey mists rising from the far shoulders of Morven — the glad days up on the hills, with the ring of the blue sea all round the land — the idling in the big boat with the long lines over the side, as the red sun went down in the west and all the water became as fire — the delightful walks at night-time, by the shore, with the sea plashing, and the cool winds stii-ring the scents of the bushes, and the stars trembling overhead. These were pleasant things to think of and to hear of in the hopeless wilderness of London. They forgot the gas-lamps, and the crowded hovels, and the squalor and din ; for they were looking into an enchanted land, filled with clear sunshine and the fresh winds from the sea. And somehow or other, whether intentionally or not, ^Ir. Dnimmond did take it for granted that Violet ''LIKE GETTING HOME AGAIN" 141 North was to be with them. She would see this, and go there ; she would have to hear this, and be prepared lor that. At last she cried out — " Oh, I wish it were all true ! I wish I were going with you ! " "And so you are," said ho, promptly. " Lady North is going to A^enicc," Violet said, with a sigh. "Let her," he exclaimed, recklessly. " But I am afraid we must all go — unless she aud I happen to have a light before then ; and then she would be glad to get rid of me. It is — a great — temptation," she added, thoughtfully. " What is .^ " he asked, though he guessed her meaning, for he saw a mischievous smile al)out the corners of her mouth. " No," she said, witli sudden decision, " it would not be fair to get up a (piarrel in order to get away. She has tried to be very civil to me ; and I must try to be civil in return. But it is hard work to be civil to some people." They had some further talk about this northern excursion however ; and it was easy to see how anxious the girl was to go with them. She seemed to cling to them somehow, as though they were her only friends. When she was told that the cab was at the door, she rose from the tal)le with a sigh ; she was tearing herself away from the one place in the world where she found peace, homeliness, unworldly friends, and gentle guidance. By and by that jolting vehicle was rattling along the noisy streets, past tlie glare of ligiited shops and past dingy groups of human jjcings. Already it seemed to her that she had left far beiuud her all tluit she knew of kindness, and (|uiet, and tender companionshijx That small house- hold with its generous consideration, its unworldly ways, it^ helpfulness, and chanty, and wise counsel — that indeed was home to her ; and as she thought of it, the refrain of an old Ocrnian song — not one of the Burschenlicder — seemed to sj)eak to her, and the speech was sad enough : "/'rtr awaij — in the bcauliful meadows — k the house of mi/ home. Miini/ a time T went out from it into the valleij .- /) i/ou lieaufifnl vnllei/ — / (jrrrt i/au a thousand finies — Farrwell — farewell / " 142 MADCAP VIOLET CTTArTKR XV. MISTAKEN GUESSES. On the same eveninsc George Miller hurried along to his dub to dress for a smiill diimer-party to which he had been invited liy one of his fellow-members. He was angry and indignant, lie would no longer be subject to the caprice of any woman. Of course it flattered a girl's vanity to sue for her hand, and meekly submit to any conditions she might impose ; but he would have no more of that. It was an unsatisfactory bargain in which the concession was all on one side, liid she imagine that he would enter upon the duties of a long courtship, without the least intimation from her that anything would come of it ? Was he to pledge himself, while she remained absolutely free ? His host on this occasion was a certain Arthur Headley, a gentleman who had somehow or other made a large fortune in Australia, and come home to spend it. He was a singu- larly handsome man, six feet two in height, muscular, lithe, with fairly good features, and a magnificent brown beard. A maid-servant conversant with current fiction would have called him a demigod. It is true he was rather a fool — in- deed, his brain seemed to have undergone but little modi- fication in its transmission from the microcephalous apes ; l)ut then he was a very amiable and good-natured person. There was but one spice of malice in his nature ; and that declared itself in his treatment of the secretary of the club. He generally spent the day in worrying that harmless official. All his literary faculty was employed in composing essays of complaint to be laid before the committee. There was ordinarily more writing on the back than on the front of his dinner-bills. When he walked in the Park, in deep meditation, the chances were a hundred to one he was trying to invent some peculiarly cutting phrase to describe the dis- gracefully shabby appearance of the ash-trays in the smoking- room, or the shamelessly careless fashion in which the evening papers were stitched through the middle. Even demigods of six feet two must have an occupation. They dined in a private room, and the talk was general. I MISTAKEN GUESSES 143 If George Miller ^vislied to forget the fickle race of woman- kind, here was an opportunity. The table was brilliantly lit ; the service was quick, silent, efficient ; the conversation was of a simple and ingenuous character. Indeed, under the presidency of Mr. Headley, the talk chiefly ran upon the internal arrangements and comparative merits of other clubs, and was directed to show that no institution was so badly managed as the Judasum. One admired the white and gold of the morning-room at the United Universities' ; another rather preferred the ecclesiastical gloom of the Junior Uni- versities' ; another lamented the absence of a good entrance- hall ; and a fourth, when the steward's tariff was under discussion, suddenly exclaimed — "Why, God bless my soul ! do you know they give you cold beef and a pint of claret at the Reform for one and twopence — one shilling and twopence for your lunch ? " after which there was a pause of awestruck silence. By and by, however, when a little wine had been drunk, everybody wished to talk, except one ; and so the conver- sationalists inadvertently split themselves up into small groups. That one was George Miller. He was rather f^loomy. He did not seem to take much interest in what \vas going on ; he listened, in an abstracted fashion, to this or that controversy about wine, or yachts, or bookmakers ; and heeded but little. Suddenly, however, he heard something that made his heart jump. " Who is that tall girl with the white feather," asked a gentleman on the other side of the table, some one having been talking of the Park, " who drives the pair of greys ? " " Oh, don't you know ? " said their host, carelessly. " She's a daughter of North, the railway-man." "She's an uncommonly good-looking girl, that's all I know. She has only come quite lately into the Park." "She's all very well," said the other; "but you know there's no one conies into the Park to compare with Lady " "lleatlley," broke in young Miller, with intenijierate wrath, " we will drop this, if you please. I ha])pcn to know Miss Xorth.'^ 144 MADCAP VIOLET There was an t'luliiirrasijiHl ]iause : the {innounccmcnt of the price of cold beef at the Reform Club could not have excitcvl move surprise. " ]\ly dear fellow," said ITeadlcy, with much good-nature, " I beo; a thousand pardons ; and I envy you." So tiie little incident passed off (|uietly enough ; hut was it not apparent to every one present that there was some special reason for the high colour on the young man's facie ? Of course, if they had known that he was acquainted with !Miss North, they would not have spoken of her ; but had they said any harm of her ? Would he have been as angry over the mention of the name of the Princess of Wales, or Tiady Dudley, or Baroness Burdett-Coutts ? They drew their own conclusions. And as for him — this chance mention of A^iolet did not increase his happiness. It was evident, then, that she was attracting attention, as was natural. Whatever imagination he had was inflamed by a sadden and secret fire of jealousy ; and a thousand devils appeared in the smoke. He hated even the innocent person on the other side of the table who had betrayed interest in Miss North by asking her name. He hated the idle, lolling crowds in the Park, who stared, and criticised, and — worst of all — admired. Well, as soon as dinner was over, and his companions went up to the smoking-room, he stole off for a few minutes, and sate down to write a letter to Violet North. It was a very penitent letter. He confessed that he had been impatient and unreasonable. If she would forgiv'e him this time, he would not again ask her for any pledge or assurance. 8he should be perfectly free. He would be content if she in the meantime would give liini only her friendship, and would take his chance of the future. And Avas she going to the flower-show at South Kensington on Thursday ? This letter he sent up to Euston Square by the club commissionaire, so that Violet received it when she returned in her four-wheeler from visiting her friends in the south. Now she was in a very gentle frame of mind — she generally was after seeing them. It was evident the young man was grieved about their quarrel ; and she was sorry to have given him pain. She did not sit down to answer the letter MISTAKEN GUESSES 145 there and then ; but she resolved that the reply should bo a kind and friendly one. He received her note the following evening ; he had been early at his rooms to wait for it. It was the first scrap of her writing that had come into his possession : a thrill went through his heart even as he looked at his own name outside written by her hand. He opened the envelope quickly ; his eye seemed to catch the sense of the page before he had time to read the lines ; he knew at least she was not deeply offended. He read the letter, and then got up and went to the window, and stared down into Half Moon Street. He read it again, and kept staring at the paper, mechanically noticing the curious fashion (apparently French) in which she formed her capital /'s. He read it over two or three times, and yet seemed possessed with the notion that he ought to discover more from these simple words. There was, indeed, a studied simplicity about them. She told him, briefly and plainly, that she hoped they would remain good friends ; that the cause of this recent disagree- ment was well known to both of them, and could be avoided ; and that she was very glad he had pointed out to her the necessity of guarding against misconstruction. He was very soon to find out what this last phrase meant. Violet went with Lady Noith and her daughters to the flower-show, and there, naturally enough, was Mr. George ^Milli.T, very smartly dressed, a trifle self-conscious, and obviously anxious to be attentive to the whole party. The bright sum.mer-day, the rich masses of colours, the sweet and ever-varying perfumes, and the cheerful music outside — all tliis was ])leasant cnougli ; and Violet, who was not sated with the ordinaiy sights and occupations of London life, was enjoying the whole thing thoroughly, and was most friendly in her treatment of him. A rumour that some royal personages had airived, and were going through one of the tents, caused a g(!ntle rush of tlio rrowd in that direction ; and with the crowd went Lady North and her daughters ; so that inadvertently Violet, and Oeorge Miller were left by themselves, if not quite -aVaw. That, did not make any alteration in her manner — she was (lee|ily in- 146 MADCAP VIOLET tcrcstod at the moment in a sensitive-plant — but it did in his. " Yiolct," said he, in a low voice, " I have nothing of yonrs that — that I can keep by me ; will you give me a flower ? " She turned round with something of coldness in her manner. "That would be flirtation, would it not?" she asked, with some little dignity. " What is the use of raking up an old quarrel ? " he said, in an injured way. "I thought that was to be forgotten." "Yes," she answered, in the same measured and clear fashion, " but not the lesson of it. I think it is better we should have a distinct understanding about that. I do not wish to do anything you can reproach me with afterwards ; for who can tell what may happen ? " Her meaning was clear enough. She was determined to give him none of that " encouragement " on which he might presume to found a claim, or to substantiate a charge of fickleness and treachery. It came to this, then : if he liked to have their present relations continue, well and good ; but it was distinctly to be recognised that she was not responsible. Now this was an intelligible position to be taken up by a young woman who did not find that she cared about a young man to that degree which would warrant her in encouraging his hopes ; but it could not be expected to recommend itself to the young man. " I think you are very hard on me," said he rather gloomily. " Oh, don't think so ! " she said, quickly, with an anxious kindness in her eyes. "I don't mean to be so, at any rate. But it is not fair to you, nor to myself, that —that " " I sec how it is," he said, bitterly. " You cannot for- give me for that one phrase." " Indeed I have," she said, earnestly. " Only it opened my eyes. Perhaps I was wrong in letting you go to papa. But you know you told me that I was absolutely unpledged — that it was all a ' perhaps ' — that you were quite content to wait and see " " And so I am 1 " he said, with unusual decision of MISTAKEN GUESSES 147 manner, and bis voice was low and rapid. " I don't care what happens ; I am too deeply pledged already ; you can be as free as you like. Men have done more foolish things for smaller prizes. I will take my chance. And yet, I don't think most girls are as hard as that " " I will give you a flower, if you wish it," she said. She looked around, and at length descried a bit of blossom that had fallen or been cut off. " Will that do ? " she asked. He took it from her, threw it on the ground, and kicked it aside. " I don't want it from you in that way. I will wait until you can give me a flower without looking as if I had put you on the treadmill." " Ah, well," she said with a sigh, " I am sorry we should quarrel so. Shall we go and see where Lady North has gone ? " "Violet!" he said, "I — I beg your pardon. I don't wish to quarrel ; but yet it seems bard that you should be so proud and indifferent — and I get angry, that's a fact — but I am very sorry. Come, let us be friends again." " Very well," she said. " Give me another bit of flower ! " She began to laugh. " Isn't this just a little too childish ? You make me think I am back at Miss Main's again, and quarrelling over a bit of slate-pencil. The flowers don't belong to me." " It may be childish, and very ridiculous, to you ; but it isn't quite so to me. However, I will wait for that flower. Perhaps you will give it to me some day ? " " I suppose you mean to tease me until I do ? " " If I thought that would get it for me, I would." " I have heard of girls being teased into an engagement — giving in through sheer weariness. I think it is rather dangerous. I should fancy the man would take his revenge out after the marriage ; for of course lie would look on her previous disinclination as mere perversity." " I wish you would give nio the chance," he said, with a 1 (right look on his face. "You would sec what revenge I should take," L 2 ,48 MADCAP VIOLET The aspiration was au honest one. Yonng IMillcr had a fair and moderate notion of his own merits. He knew he could not paint line pictnres of his sweetheart, or write poetry about her, or do anything particuharly romantic or imaginative ; hut he liad heard in his time of these dilettante fellows marrying the objects of their adoration only to neglect them for flirtations with other women. He, now, was a plain and practical person ; but he could assure his wife an honest and attentive husband, who would work hard for her, and see that she lived in good style. If he oidy had the chance, as he said, Violet would see what a husband he would make. Unfortunately this remark of his only alarmed her. It seemed as though, whatever she might say to him, the con- versation always led up to this one point; and the girl naturally blamed herself for so " encouraging " him. She immediately became rather reserved in manner, and insisted on going off in search of her friends. They found them easily enough ; but in strolling about the grounds, young IMiller had plenty of opportunities of talking to Violet by herself. " I suppose you are going to the Royal Academy con- versazione ? " said he. " Would it be making an appointment if I said I was ? " she asked, with gentle malice. " No, it would not ; for I haven't got a card." " Then I am going. Lady North will take Anatolia and me ; papa doesn't care about it." " I should like to go," young Miller said, wistfully. " I suppose Mr. Drmnmond would let me have his card for once ? " " I hope you Avon't ask him," said Violet, sharply. " Why not ? " he said, innocently. " It is no novelty to him. lie knows all those artist-fellows. What is a con- versazione more or less to him ? He does not go to one- lifth of the places he is asked to." " You have no right to demand such a favour," she said. " Besides, the cards are sent to particular people ; they are not to be bandied about like that. And I know that Mr. Drummond is going." " Oh, you know he is going ? " MISTAKEN GUESSES 149 " Yes. But I know he would give the card to anybody who asked him — if that is allowed — so I hope you won't ask him." " You seem very anxious to see him." " Yes, I am — at least, not anxious, but of course I hope to see him." " Oh, well," said Miller, carelessly, " I can easily get a card if I want to go, without asking Mr. Drummond. I know a twopenny-halfpenny sort of fellow called Lavender, who is good at anytliing but earning a farthing of his own money, and he will get me a card. I suppose a hundred will go to look at the distinguished folk, and one to look at the pictures." " Then I hope you will be that one," said Violet, sweetly. " You know what I shall go for," he said ; and she turned away at that — the conversation had again led up to one of those awkward climaxes, which seemed to pledge her more and more, however definitely she protested. So the days went by at this time ; the young man paying her very nearly as much attention as though an engagement had existed between them ; she secretly fearing, and yet sheltering herself behind repeated explanations that she was absolutely free, and unprejudiced by any of his hopes and aspirations. Occasionally, of course, she could not help being kind to him ; for she really liked him ; and his patient devotion to her moved her pity. Many a time she wished he would go ; and then she hesitated to inflict on him the pain of dismissal. It was altogether a dangerous position. 'J'hc days going by, too, were gradually bringing the London season to an end ; and people were talking of their autumn tours. Yiokt had not ventured to ask liady Noith to let lier accompsiny Mrs. Wurrencr to the Highlands ; but she had spoken about this trip ; and hinted that she would rather be going tliither than to Venice. ]\Irs. Warreuer liiul not ceased to entreat her to come witli them. One brig'ht morning a ])air of small greys were being driven briskly up ("amberwell Grove by a young lady who seemed jilciiscd enough with her task. It was a fresh, clear day in July ; the yellow road ascending Ijefore her was I50 MADCAP VIOLET burred across by tlio p:roy sliadows of the chestnuts ; here and there a Ihne-tree sweetened the air, for there had been rain in the morninc^. Her only companion was the man beliind, wlio wns doing his best to watch over a number of potted fuehsias which gave him the appearance of being an elderly cupid in a grove of flowers. The phaeton was pulled up at the gate leading to a certain boarding-school ; and the groom, struggling out from among the fuchsias, jumped down and went to the horses' heads. Now this was rather a tall and shapely young lady who went into the boarding-school ; and she wore a tight- sleeved and tight-fitting dress of chocolate-coloured home- spun, with a broad-brimmed hat and bold feather of the Sir Joshua Reynolds' fashion ; and altogether she presented so fine and commanding an appearance that the small schoolmistress, on coming in, was overwhelmed with astonishment, and could only say — • " Oh, ]\Iiss North ! " Yet Miss North was not an apparition — at least appari- tions do not ordinarily shake one firmly by the hand, and say, with a bright smile — • " You remember me ? Have I grown ? Oh, Miss Main, it is very strange to call on you ; for the moment I came into the hall I fancied I was going to be punished — I suppose you remember " " Oh, yes, I remember," said the schoolmistress, with a shrewd smile, and yet she was still puzzled by the alteration in this old pupil of hers, and had scarcely the presence of mind to ask her to sit down. " But I thought I would bring something to propitiate you," this handsome young lady continued, with the greatest self-possession and cheerfulness, " so that you won't give me twenty pages of Minna von Barnhelm to translate — it is some fuchsias — they are outside — will you please to ask I'llizabeth to fetch them in ? " " Oh, that is so kind of you, Miss North," said the school- mistress (she had not even yet sated her wonder and curiosity over the young lady's dress and a]jpearance and manner) ; " but I suppose you don't know Elizabeth has left us. She left to got married more than a year ago." "I thought she would," said Miss North, calmly. "I MISTAKEN GUESSES 151 used to write her love-letters for her. How much of Minna von Barnhelm should I have had to translate if you had found that out, Miss Main ? " " Indeed," said the schoolmistress, frankly, " I think you were the wickedest girl I ever had in my school." " I am afraid you are right," said Miss North, meekly. " But what a change there is, to be sure ! That's what I often said — I often said you would never be brought under proper control until you were married " " But I am not married yet, Miss Main," said the young lady, with heightened colour. " It will not be long then, I dare say," replied the school- mistress, " Indeed it will be a very long time — it will be always and altogether," said Miss North, promptly. " You mean never to get married ? " " Certainly." After that Miss !Main thought she might as well send for the fuchsias ; and when the flowers were brought in, she was greatly pleased by this instance of friendliness on the part of her old pupil, and she would have had her sit down and have some strawberries and cake. But Miss North could not wait to partake of these earthly joys. " I am going on at once to Mr. Drumraond's," she said. " Mr. Drummond is not at home," said Miss Main, hoping to have an opportunity of showing Lady North's daughter to a later generation of scholars ; " I saw him pass hero about an hour ago." " I know," said Violet ; " this is the morning he goes to that Society in Jermyn Street. It is Mrs. "Warrener I am going to sec." So, with many a friendly word, and promise to repeat the visit, she got into the pliaeton again and drove on up the hill. She f<;uii(l Mrs. Warrener alone, as she had expected. She took oft' her hat and put it on the table. Then she jiropoKcd they should go out into the garden. " For I have something of great importance to say to you," she said, solemnly. " Indeed ! " remarked Mrs. "Warrener, expecting to hear of another quarrel with Lady North. " Ob, it is no laughing matter," Violet said at once. " It 152 MADCAP VIOLET is siniplv this— Am T or am I not to get engaged to Mr. INIillor ?'" " Yiolct 1 " exclaimed Mrs. AVarreuer, astounded by the giiTs direct haltit of s]ieecli. "You cannot be talking seriously. AVhy siiould you ask such a question of me ? " " Because I have no one else to go to for advice," she answered simply. " But surely that is a matter on which no girl needs advice. It ought to be determined by your own feelings." "If that were all, I should have no difficulty," said the young lady, not without some pride in her tone. " I don't wish to marry anybody. I would rather be free from all the — the bother and persecution " " Then why should you suffer it ? " " Well," said she, looking down, "perhaps you may have partly brought it on yourself by your own carelessness — and you don't wish to — to appear — unkind " They had now got out into the garden. "Violet," Mrs. AVarrener said, distinctly, "this is the question : Do you really care for him ? " " N — no," the girl stammered. " Then why not tdl him so ? " " You cannot go about insulting your friends in that way." " All your friends are not asking you to marry them." " Oh, that is a different matter," said Violet, earnestly. " He does not ask me to many him — not at all. This that he is always asking for is only an engagement — and I am not to be bound by it in any way " " Now, what do you really mean ? " her friend said, seriously. " Or what can he mean by such proposals ? AVhat sort of an engagement is it that binds him and leaves you free ? And what sort of an engagement is it that does not involve marriage ? " " AA^ell, that is what he proposes," said Violet, doggedly. " lie knows quite well that I will not promise to maiTy him ; for I do not wish to marry anybody. And he does not even talk of that now." They walked about for a bit ; ]\rrs. AVarrener saying nothing. At last she spoke : " I think I see how it is. The notion of maiTiage o^ MISTAKEN GUESSES 'JO frightens you ; or you are too proud to like the idea of the submission and surrender of marriage ; and Mr. Miller, being a shrewd young man, has found that out ; so he wants you to enter into a vague engagement — which will not frighten you. or alarm you about the loss of your independence — and you apparently don't quite understand what it means. Take care." " Oh, but you don't know, j\Irs. Warrenor," the girl said, quite humbly, "you don't know what I think about these things, if you fancy I am so proud as that, or that I should like to be always independent. If I were to marry any man I should like to feel myself quite helpless beside him — looking to him always for guidance and wisdom — I should be his one worshipper, and everything he might do would be right to me. I should be ashamed of myself to even dream of independence. But then — but then — " she added, with her eyes still cast down, " the men you can admire and trust like that are not often met with — at least, for my part, I have only " " You must have met one, anyway," said Mrs. "Warrener, with a kindly smile. " Oh, no, not necessarily," the girl said, almost with alarm. " It is a fancy of mine — you know the nonsense that gets into a school-girl's head." !Mrs. Warrcner, with such ability as she possessed, and with a wonderful and friendly patience, was trying to understand this girl and her odd and apparently contra- dictory sentiments. The only key to these that the wortliy little woman could find was this — Here was a proud self- willed girl, who had a swcetheait whom she regarded with a more tender affection than she cared to disclose. Like most girls, she chose to be very reticent on that point ; if questioned, she would answer with a stammering " N — no." On the other hand, the sweetheart is impatient of these mystifications, and wishes her to promise to marry him. Slio rebels against tiiis jjressure put upon her ; probahly tn-ats him with undeserved coldness ; but all the same comes to a friend to see what the world would think of her entering into some sort of engagement. 8he wishes some one to tell her she can enter into this engagement without exposing herself to the suspicion — against which 154 MADCAP VIOLET she revolts — that her secret afTcctiou is stronger than her pride. Sucli WHS Mrs. Warrcncr's theory. It was ingenious enough ; and it was but a natural deduction from what she had seen of the conduct of many girls in similar circum- stances ; only it was altogether wrong in the case of Violet North, and it was the parent of a terrible amount of mischief. " Violet," said she, in her kindly way, " it is no use my advising you, for a girl never quite tells you what her real feelings are about a young man. You said you did not care about Mr. Miller " " Perhaps I ought to have said that I like him very well," she said, looking down. " There is no doubt about that. I like him far better than any of the young men I have met, for he is less languid, and he does not patronize you, and talk to you as if you were a baby ; he is earnest and sincere — and then, when you see how anxious he is to be kind to you " " Ah, yes," said Mrs. Warrener, with some little show of triumph, " I thought there was something behind all that reluctance of yours, Violet. It is the way with all you girls. You will admit nothing. You don't care for any- body. You positively hate the notion of being married. But all the same you go and submit to be married, just like your mothers before you, and there is an end of pretence then." " I hope you don't think, Mrs. "Warrener," said the girl, with flushed cheeks, " that I have been asking you to advise me to get married ? " " No, no, Violet," her friend said, gently. " You wouldn't do that. But I think I can see the end of all this hesitation." " What end then ? " " You will marry Mr. Miller." " I am not married to Mr. Miller yet," she said, almost coldly ; and then she abruptly changed the subject. Another part of her mission was to deUver an invitation to her two friends in the south to dine at Euston Square on the evening of the Royal Academy conversazione. Sir Acton would be up in Yorkshire ; perhaps Mr. Drummond AMONG SOME PICTURES 155 would kindly assume the guardianship of the small party of ladies. Mrs. Warrener could not, of course, answer for her brother ; but she was sure he would do anything to please Violet. Then the young lady went her way. Why did she drive so fast ? — her mouth proud and firm, her figure erect. " I am not married yet " — this was what she was saying to herself — " they will have to wait a little while before they see me married 1 " CHAPTER XVI. AilONG SOME PICTURES. This almost seemed a small family party that was met round Lady North's dinner-table ; and it was in any case a sufficiently merry one. Mr. Drummond was in one of his gravely extravagant moods ; and Lady North, following his whimsicalities as far as her fancy permitted, was amused in a fashion, though she was very often puzzled. For who could tell whether this bright-eyed man, with his discui-sive talk, his impossible stories, his sham advice, was in jest or earnest ? Violet was delighted ; perhaps the occasional bewilderment of Lady North did not lessen her pleasure. " But did you never hear," said he, when his hostess was complaining seriously about the way in which certain groceries or other things were adulterated ; *' did you never hear, Lady North, of the man who starved himself rather than be cheated ? " " N — no," said she, with wide eyes. Violet smiled to heraelf. She knew there was no such person. Tliei-*; n<;ver had been aiiy such person. He was continually lugging in imaginary men of straw, and making them toss their spectral arms about. " Oil, yes," he continued, calmly ; "he was a very strict and just man ; and he was so indignant over the way tliis tradesman and the next tradesman cheated him, that he cut off the suj)i)liefl, one afU^r the other, to revenge himself on them. First the butf:her went, because lie was always sending in short weight. Then the baker went, because of 156 MADCAP VIOLET aliun and olher tricks. At last this i)oor man was living on nothinfr but milk, when it occurred to him to have tlio milk analysed. There was about oO per cent, added water iu it ; and that went to his heart. His last hope was gone. To spite the milkman, he resolved to cut ofT the milk too ; and so he shut himself up in a room, and died ; — his ])rotcst could go no further than that. You see, Lady North, we must make up our mind to be cheated a good deal ; and to take it with an easy temper. An equable temper is the greatest gift a man can possess. I suppose you have heard of the duke who had everything he could desire, and who died of anxiety ? " Violet nearly burst out laughing this time. Of course there Avas no such duke. " Oh, yes ; he was so afraid of having his iiicturcs, and rare engravings, and old jewellery burned, that he set about getting them all in duplicate ; and he had a duplicate house built to receive them. But of course it was no use. He could not get complete sets of the engravings ; and he used to wander about Italian towns searching for old glass and jewellery until he grew to be a haggard and awful skeleton. Care killed him in the end. If you keep brooding over all the possibilities of life, you cannot avoid being miserable. I once knew a man " Still another ? Violet began to think of the dozen " supers" in the theatre, who are marched round and round the scenery, to represent the ceaseless procession of an army. " who used to be quite unhappy whenever he ate a herring ; for he used to wonder whetlier a herring ever had rheumatism, and then he considered how dreadfully a herring must suffer in such a case, from the quantity of bones it had. But of course you cannot always command your fancies, and say that you will be free from anxiety ; and the most helpless time I know is early in the morning, if one has wakened prematurely, and cannot get to sleep again. Then a touch of hoarseness in the throat conjures up visions of dijjhtheria ; and if you cannot recollect some trifling matter, you begin to look on the lapse of memory as a warning of comjjlete mental breakdown and insanity. Everything Is bad tiien ; all your affairs arc going to the dogs ; you have oiTended your dearest friend. But at AMONG SOME PICTURES 157 breakfast-time, don't you wonder how you could have been so foolish as to vex yourself about nothing ? The increased vitality of the system clears the brain of forebodings. There are other times, too, in which the imagination is stronger than the reason. I once knew a very learned man " Another ! " who declared to me that sea-sickness was in nine cases out of ten a matter of apprehension ; and that he knew he could argue himself into a quiescent mood that would defy the waves. But just as we were going on board the boat, he looked up and saw a cloud sailing smoothly along ; and I could see he was thinking with a great longing how hue it would be to lie down in that cloud and be taken quietly across ' " AVas he ill in crossing ? " demanded the literal little woman at the head of the table. Mr. Drummond started. He had conjured up the incident 80 far ; but he knew nothing further, " I don't know," he said ; and Lady North wondered how a reasonable person could tell a story and leave out its chief point of interest. That evening a young man was flitting rather restlessly about the entrance-hall of Bm-hugtou House, watching the successive carriages arrive, and the successive parties of ladies, with their long trains flowing on the stairs, pass up to have their names announced above. He kept looking at his watch ; then at the next carriage ; and was altogether anxious and dissatisfied. At length, however, a particular caiTiagc came rolling into the courtyard, and he swiftly went down the broad stone steps. He himself oijcned the door. Who was the first to step out into the ligiit ? — a tall young girl, who had apparently had her dress designed by an artist, for it was all of a radiant lemon-yellow silk, the sleeves alone, near the shoulder, being slashed with l)lack velvet ; while in her jet- black masses of hair were intertwined leaves and blossoms of theyeUow-wliite jessamine She looked surprised. " Then you have come after all ? " she said, when he was assisting lier three coinf)anions out of the carriage. "Yes," he said; adding: "How fortunate T should meet you here, Lady North. You Lave no one witii you ? " I5S MADCAP VIOLET " Oh, yes," said Lady North. " Mr. Drummond is coming directly, in a hansom." " I think wc had better i^o in," said the young man ; " he uill lind you readily enough when he comes." " Oh, no," remarked the young lady with the pale yellow flowers in her hair — and she spoke with some decision — • " we shall wait for him here. I particularly wish Mr. Drammond to take Lady North through the people, because he knows everyone." Well, the young man had no objection to that ; for, of course, he would be left in charge of the others. Then ^Ir. Drummond came up, light-hearted, buoyant, and care- less ; and indeed it seemed to the younger man that this tall and good-humoured person, when he undertook to escort a party of ladies to the Royal Academy conversazione, might at least have taken the trouble to tie his necktie a little more accurately. They passed up the stairs. They caught a glimpse of many faces and bright lights. Their names were announced. Sir Francis, standing near the door, shook hands with IMr. Drummond as with an old friend : then they made their way along the narrow lane that had been formed by people curious to see the new arrivals. Which of this party attracted most attention ? Mrs. Warrener, who was by the side of A^iolet, knew well — whether or not the girl herself was aware — how all eyes followed her as she passed. If she was aware of it, she was not much embarrassed. They had scarcely got into the miscellaneous crowd when she suddenly caught her companion's arm. " Listen ! " ' There was a sound of soft and harmonious music, the deep voices of men, and the playing of instruments ; and then high above that, rising as it were to the vaulted roof, the clear singing of boys — singing as with the one strong, high, and sweet voice of a woman. " "WTiere are they singing ? " Violet asked ; and then she led her companion to the central hall, where, with all manner of busts and ligures looking strangely down on them, the crowd stood in a circle round the Artillery band, the boys in the centre. By this time Violet and her companion had got separated from Mr. Drummond and Lady North ; AMONG SOME PICTURES 159 Mr. George Miller was paying compulsory attention to his friend Anatolia. But this division of the party did not last, of course, the whole evening. Its various members met and parted in new combinations, as various objects of attraction suggested ; this one lost in admiration of the music ; the other fasci- nated by particular costumes ; a third anxious that every- body should see his or her favourite picture. On one of these occasions Mr. Drummond and Violet together happened to be looking at a picture based on the tragic death of Helen of Kirkcounell. It is now two or three years since this picture was exhibited, and I must not hazard overpraise of its merits ; but, at all events, it endeavoured to give visible form to what (as it seems to some of us) is the most passionate and pathetic utterance of human emotion in all modern literature — if this wild, sharp cry of anguish is to be called literature. ]\roreover, it dealt only with one episode in the brief tragedy where Helen of Kirkcounell — Burd Helen she is called in some of the versions — is walking with her lover in the evening, and suddenly throws herself before him to receive the death-shot fired at him by his rejected rival : it does not deal with the fiercer portion that follows. "O think na but my heart was sair" — — this is the pathetic introduction to the wild, glad deed of vengeance — "When my love fell and spake nae mair; I laid lier down wi' mciklc care, On fair KirkconneU lea. I laid her down : my sword did draw, Stem was our fight by Kirtloshaw : J hsiced him down in pieces sma'. For her that died for me." " It is a sad story," Drummond said, absently, when he bad told it to her. " I do not think thiit," she answered quickly ; and he was surj)rised to see that her face was (juite pale, and her dark eyes full of tears. *' I think these arc the two very happiest people I ever heard of in the world." i6o MADCAP VIOLET She stopped for a moiucut ; he dared not look, for he guessed tliat tlie proud li]is were trembling. "Don't you ? " she said, boldly. " A woman who is able to die for the man she loves, a man who has the joy of Icining the man who slew his sweetheart : I think they have had everything that life can give. But — but that was in the old time ; there is no more of that now ; when people care for each other now, it is a very gentle affection, and they are more concerned about having a good income, and being able to drive in the Park " " But people who drive in the Park may love each other," he ventured to suggest. " I don't believe it," she said, and then she abruptly turned away. George Miller came up. "Violet," he said in a propitiatory voice, "do come over here and look at this picture. I think it awfully good." She crossed the room, proudly and silently. Miller led her to a very nice and pleasing composition, which had rather won upon his heart, and which — who knows ? — he may have thought would have a similar influence on her. It represented a quiet nook on the Thames, with a long pleasure-boat moored in at the roots of the trees ; and in the boat were two very pretty young ladies and a good- looking young fellow — he was not unlike Miller himself — in boatin.ti-llanncls and a straw hat. The picture was called " Meditation." There was a luncheon-basket, half-opened, in the stern of the boat. " Now, that is what I call real life," said George Miller. " That is the sort of thing you actually see. Just look at that swan ; you would think he was going to open his mouth for a biscuit." " That is the sort of picture I hate," she said with unnecessary vehemence ; and he was considerably startled ; " and I hate the people quite as much who could live such a trivial, dawdling, purposeless sort of life. I wonder what they are imditatimj on 1 Very pretty meditations they are likely to have ! On the advisability of eating lobster- salad ? On the sweet poetry the curate quoted on Sunday ? On the chances of their winning gloves at Goodwood ? AMONG SOME PICTURES 161 And as for him, a tailor's window would be the most suitable place in the world for him ! " He was astounded by this outburst ; he could not imderstand what it meant. " You are rather savage to-night," said he, coldly. " I don't see that the man has done you any harm by painting a pretty picture." " I detest such pictures." " Well, you needn't look at them, if they offend you." "I must look at them when I am asked to do so, and when I am told they are beautiful." This was rather a cruel remark ; but George Miller unexpectedly showed good nature. " Well, there is no accounting for tastes," said he, pleasantly. I admire pictm'es like that, because I under- stand them. They are the sort of thing one sees in real life. Now I have no doubt that the solemn and mysterious business — an ugly woman with her face painted against a .green sky — is very fine ; but I can't see the beauty of ugliness myself." " Where is Lady North, do you know ? " she said. "I saw her go into the next room a minute ago," ho answered. Now, if Violet had been put out of temper by being asked to look at a very harmless and innocent picture, she was restored, not only to her usual serenity, but to a quite abundant gracioasness, l)y the news she heard when she again encountered her stepmother. "Violet," said tlie little woman, " IMr. Drunmiond has been pressing me very hard to let you go with his sister and himself to Scotland. Would you like to go ? " " I should like very much to go." "Well, I dim't see any objection," Lady North said, " except that it is rather presuming on their liospi- tality— " "Ah, they dun't think of such tilings," said Violet, quickly. " They are not very ricli, you know." " Tliiit is just it," the girl said, rather proudly. " It is bccaiise they are not rich that they are generous and kind to everyone ; tiicy have not a thought about nioncy " i62 MADCAP VIOLET " Well, well," said Lady North, " they seem in any case to l)c very kindly disjmscd towards yon ; and yon lunst go and thank them now for the invitation. There is Mr. Drnmmond over in the corner." " I — ^wonld — rather p:o to Mrs. Warrener," said Violet, with some hesitation. " "Where has she gone with Ana- tolia ? " Lady North was in all simplicity surprised to sec the effect of this concession of hers on Violet's friends. Was it really possil)le that they could so much enjoy her society ? They seemed to be quite grateful to her for allowing Violet to go with them ; whereas she herself had been looking forward with very considerable anxiety to the necessity of taking that young lady to Italy. It was well, she thought, in any case, that the girl had taken this fancy for people who did appear to have some control over her. Naturally enough, when all the splendour of the evening was over, and the brilliancy of the rooms exchanged for the rainy squalor of the streets, Mr. Drummond and his sister, who went home in a cab, had much to say about this visit to the north, and Violet's going with them. After they got home, too, they kept chatting on about this subject ; the time running away unheeded. James Drummond seemed highly pleased about the whole arrangement ; and he was already painting all sorts of imaginative pictures of Violet's ex- periences of Highland lochs, moors, sunrises, and wild seas. " And then," said his sister, " we must ask Mr. Miller up for a time." " Oh, certainly." " I see," she said, with a smile, " I must get over my ob- jection to that young man marrying Violet." He raised his eyes quickly. *' What do you mean ? " "Well," she said, with a sort of good-natured shrug, "I believe it is inevitable now. Either they are engaged or about to be engaged." A quick look of pain — so sharp and rapid that she did not notice it — passed over his face. " Has she told you so ? " he said, calmly. " No ; but she came to ask my advice about it the other day ; and she talked just as a girl always talks in these AMONG SOME PICTURES 163 circumstances — pretending to care nothing for him — treating his advances as tiresome — and yet showing you quite clearly that she would he very much disgusted if he took her at her word." " And what did you say ? " " I told her to be governed by her own feelings." " Yes, of course," he said, absently ; and he seemed to be deeply occupied in balancing a paper-knife on its edge. " I am glad her people know of Miller's expectations ; that relieves us from responsibility. It will be a pretty spectacle — those two young folks in the holiday-time of their youth enjoying themselves up there in the Highlands." " I wish she had chosen somebody else," Mrs. Warrener said, ruefully. " I suppose he is a good match ; and he is very fond of her ; but he is so dreadfully like every other young man." " You must wait and see, Sarah," her brother said, gently. " Give him time." " I would give him everything else in the world — except our Violet," she said. " However, if young people were quite sensible, they would always be finding out defects in each other, and they would never get married at all. He is a very well-iutentioned young man : I think if you advised him to become a Buddhist, he would try. We shall see what influence Violet will have on him ; perhaps she will conjure up something in him a little more out of the commonplace." ►She bade him good-night now — though it was very near morning — and left him alone. He sate there, lying back in his easy-chair, with his ordinarily quick and piercing eyes grown vague and distant, as if they were trying to make some mystic words out of the meaningless symbols on the wall-paper. The clock on the manto]])iccc ticked gently, the slow progress of the hands l^-ing unheeded. He rose, with the air of a man who has been in a dream, and looked round. His attention was caught by l)ars of bine appearing through the yellow shutters of the window; the new day was drawing near outside ; almost meclianicaliy ho passed round into the hall, took his hat, and let himself quietly out. ]Iow still it was, in the half-revealed darkness 1 Only the topmost leaves of the tall poplars, far away up there in the n '2. I64 MADCAP VIOLET Llue-c'Tcy, seemed to be having a low and rustlinc: talk top:cthcr ; down here, amid the darker foliage of the chestnuts, all was silence. He walked on, quietly and aimlessly, past the voiceless houses and the gardens. Suddenly a sound made his heart leap — it was only a thrush that had burst asunder the spell of the night with tlie first notes of its morning song. And now there was a more perceptible light in the sky ; and the stars were gone ; and at last there appeared a strange violet colour, tinted with rose, that shone on the windows of the eastward-looking houses. The dawn had come — after the rain of the night — clear, and coldly roseate, and still. " So the new days come," he was thinking to himself, *' and the years slip by, and God takes away our youth before we know that we have it. And if all the imaginative longing of youth — that seeks satisfaction in the melancholy of the twilight and in the murmur of the sea, and does not lind it there, but must have some human object of sympathy — if that romantic wistfulness of youth clings around the form of a young girl, and endows her with all the poetry of early years, can it ever be repeated again ? Love may come again, and love of a stronger, and purer, and less selfish kind ; but the wonder — perhaps not : and so I imagine that the old mystery of first love never quite goes even when the love goes, and that in after years, some sudden view of the sea or a new sweet scent in the air will bring back a throb of one's twentieth year and all the half- forgotten dreams. But if a man knows all that, and has mijjsed it, can he have even a glimpse of it in later life ? There are some of us who have had no youth — only hours, and days, and years ; the wonder-time of love has never reached us ; and we have learnt physiology instead. I suppose all that must go. We can see the pretty pictures that young love makes ; we can smile sadly at its un- reasonable caprice, its wild follies, its anger and tears of repentance. Happy youth, that knows not its own happiness — that would impatiently curtail the wonder-time — that is so eager after enjoyment that rose-leaves are dashed down of roses that will never bloom again. But after all, to live is to live ; and it is only those who are outside and apart, who are but spectators of the youth of others, who know how FROM NORTH TO SOUTH 165 youth should be spent, and how grateful it should be for God's chiefesfc gifts." He was neither sorrowful nor envious, to all appearance, as he walked on and communed with himself, listening to the full chorus of the now awakened birds, and watching the growing glory of the sunlight come over the green and rain-washed fohage of the trees. The tall, thin man, who stooped a little, and who walked briskly along, with one hand in his trousers-pocket, sometimes whistled absently as he went ; and he had a quick attention for the flying birds, and the growing light, and the stirring of the leaves. He was all by himself in the newly-awakened world ; not another human l)eing was abroad. And when he had tired himself out with his walk, he returned home with something of gladness in his worn face ; for it almost seemed as if he had got rid of certain mournful fancies, and had resigned himself to the actual and sufficiently happy life of the new day — the new day that was now shining over the plains where the cattle stood, and over the orchards and farm- steads, and over the glad blue seas all brealcing in white foam around our English shores. CHAPTER XVII. FRO.M NORTH TO ROUTIf. The pronunciation of the word allegro is not a matter of very gra\e moment. A man may make a mistake about it and nevertheless be a good Christian and a loyal subject. All the same it was this trifling affair of a wrong accent that suddenly and unexpectedly changed the wliole course of Aliss Violet Nortli's life. The girl had an impatience of pretence of all kinds which she carried to an extreme. AVhilc she was at l\Iiss i\rain's school ncjt one-, of the girls dared to wear a bit of sham jewellery. Now Lady North was not a highly accomplished woman, and, like most persons of imperfect education, she Lad the habit of adorning her talk with scraps of languages with which she was Ijut scantily acijuainted. The resent- ment of Violet North against tliis species of afTcctation was i66 MADCAP VIOLET impliieable. It was no iise telliug licr that human nature had developed more deadly crimes than that. It was no use urging that the diiferencc between allegro and allegro was not a matter to keep one awake o' nights. " AVhy should she use the word at all ? Why should she ]n-etend to know a language tliat slie doesn't know? I hate the meanness of that perpetual .shauuniiig ! " And of course Lady North, again like most imperfectly educated persons, was deeply incensed when she was cor- rected ; and out of this small matter — a long c or a short e — sprang up a quarrel which pointed to but one conclusion. The hollow truce was broken. Stepmother and stepdaughter could not remain in the same house. Neither wished it, so it remained for Sir Acton North to say what was to be done. Sir Acton was, as usual, quite submissive. He could not understand why two women should quarrel over an Italian word ; l^ut then he had long ago given up the hope of understanding anything about women. He asked his wife what she wanted him to do about Violet ; Lady North refused to intermeddle in that young lady's affairs in any way whatsoever. He went to Violet herself, who told him that she did not care what happened to her so long as she got out of the house. She also hinted that she was quite able to earn her own living, at which Sir Acton laughed and went away not much enlightened. In this extremity he bctliought himself of that small household on the south of the river, in which Violet had often taken refuge, as if it were her natural home ; and it occurred to him that as ]\Irs. AVarrener and her brother had been good enough to offer to take Violet with them for their autumn holidays, they might perhaps be inclined to extend their hospitality further, provided that some proper recompense were made them. Violet, he knew, would be amply satisfied with that arrangement ; and it was an arrangement, moreover, which could only be but temporary, for, of course, the girl was sure to marry. Sir Acton found Mr. Drummond busily engaged in greasing a pair of enormously thick shooting-boots, while a pair of very old leather leggings lay beside him on the table of the small dining-room. FROM NORTH TO SOUTH 167 " I can't shake hands with you, sii"," said he, laying down his wooden pipe. " You see, we are just preparing for our phmge into an absolutely savage life, and you never can trust anybody to grease your boots but yourself. I hope Miss Violet quite understands the sort of life she will lead when she comes with us ? " " It was about her I wanted to speak to you, Mr. Drum- mond," said Miss "Violet's father ; and then he sat down and told Mr. Drummond the whole story, as well as he could make it out. This was a delicate mission on which Sir Acton had come, and several times he seemed rather embarrassed ; but the quick, direct speech of Mr. Drummond helped him on. "Do I understand you, then, that Violet is without a home ? " " She has none in prospect — that is to say, of course we could aiTange about her staying Avith some one " '* She can always have a home here, and a hearty Avelcome — my sister will assure her of that." " I expected you would say as much — the girl is indeed fortunate in having such friends," said Sir Acton, who was really touched with the frank, unhesitating way in Avhich the offer was made ; " and I will confess that I had some notion of this when I came over to see you. Still, it is an awkward thing for one man to ask another man to take his daughter off his hands — - — " " Don't speak about that. If Violet will come and live with us we shall be glad to have her. Of course she knows what she must expect. We are very plain-living folk, and we are not rich enough to alter our ways in entertaining a guest, although we might like to do that." "I don't think she has found your ways unsuited to her," her father said, with a sniile, "to judge by tlie readiness with which she always comes here. No, she has more sense than th;it ; thoi'e is notliing of tlie petted child about her. I'nt on the other hand, i\Ir. Drummond," continued Viultt's fatlier, with obvious embarrassment, " you will forgive me if I suggest that — tliat tin; obligation you jait me under would be too gi'cat if you did not allow me to make you — some recompense — a sum might be stated " He was in great dread of offending this shy, capricious, i6S MADCAP VIOLET strange man, niul lie was greatly relieved to find Mr. Dnim- nioiici, instead of drawing himself up and looking hurt, breaking out into a hearty laugh. " No, no, Sir Acton, we don't take in boarders — and to think of our being paid for having Yiolet North come to live with us — But I must tell Sarah about it — excuse me for one second, Sir Acton." OIT he went, leaving the worthy and practical-minded baronet very much puzzled. It was true, he knew, that Mr. Drummoud was a gentleman ; but was he not, also, very poor ; and had not the offer been made with great dehcacy ? and surely it was most unreasonable that this family should bear the expense of supporting a rich man's daughter ? His sister returned with him. They were both of them apparently greatly delighted over this probable addition to their household. When would she come over ? Would he remember to remind her of her music ? Ought Mrs. Warrener to come and help her to move her small belongings ? And would he make her promise before she left not to do all Amy Warrener's lessons for her, seeing that that young lady had now got out of her child-period ? Sir Acton North began to wonder less over his daughter's liking for this quiet little house and its occupants. There was a wonderful sense of homeliness about the place, and a bright humorous frankness about this tall lounging man and his gentle sister. But, before Sir Acton left, Mr. Drummond took him aside, and said to him, with more seriousness — " There is one point, sir, about which we ought to have a clear understanding before your daughter comes over to live with us. I believe that that young fellow Miller is in a fashion paying his addresses to her ; that is with your sanction, I presume ? " "Why, yes," said Sir Acton, rather staggered by the directness of the question, and also by the calm observant look of thoHc singularly bright and inteUigeut eyes. "The young man saw me — that nonsense was all explained away — and indeed it was a thoughtless frolic that may be for- gotten now. If the girl likes him, I see no reason why they should not marry. Do you ? " '* J ? " repeated Drummond, almost with a start. " What FROM NORTH TO SOUTH 169 have I to do vrith it ? It is lier father who must give his consent." " Do you know anything against the young man ? " " Nothing in the world," was the hearty answer. " Well, then, he is a fairly shrewd, practical-headed young fellow ; he will have quite enough money ; his family is respectable — I really don't see any objection." " That is very well. Sir Acton ; I merely wished to be entirely clear from all responsibility " " Mind you, my dear sir," broke in Sir Acton, as if he had suddenly remembered something, " don't imagine that I am anxious to get rid of my daughter — by marriage or otherwise — merely because she and her stepmother don't agree. No, no ; rather than see her uncomfortable I'd — • I'd — confound it, I'd send the whole pack of 'em flying. Violet's a good girl — she's worth twenty dozen " But here Sir Acton thought he had said enough. " I understand you, then, sir," said Mr. Drummond, (]uite calmly, " that you have no objection to young Miller meeting your daughter while she is under my care ; and if they should engage to marry each other, good and well ? " " I see no objection ; but why do you speak of that as if it were something to be feared ? " *' Pardon me ; I am sure I had no such intention." " Good-bye, Mr. ])rammond," said Sir Acton, at the door, "you have done me a great kindness ; I will try to rejiay you some day. Oh, by the way, I suppose I may get a saloon-carriage reserved for you when you go North ? " " No, thank you," said Mr. Drummond, quietly. "We\ always go second-class ; and I don't think ]\liss Violet will expect us to alter our ordinary habits." Next day a young lady burst into the room where Mi's. "Warreiier was sitting sewing, and threw herself down on her knees, and put her hands in her friend's lap. " And oil ! is it (juitc true ? — and am I to live with you always ? " she cried ; and the line, frank, handsome face and the dark and eloquent eyes were full of joy and gratitude. " You are to stay with us as long as you please," said Mrs. WaiTcner, much more gravely, as she kissed the girl. Violet looked up quickly, and scaimcd her friend's face. I70 MADCAP VIOLET " Arc yon displeased with me ? " There was a gentle hand laid on her head. "Yiolet, yon are no longer a girl. You ought not to give way to your temper, under whatever provocation. And it docs not look well to see any girl so glad to leave her home." " I have not left my home," said the girl, in a low voice, with her head bent down ; " I have come to the only home that I ever have had." No woman could resist that speech ; there was an arm round her neck in a moment ; and she was hstening to many a protestation that that home at least should never be wanting to her as long as she lived. But the girl freed herself, and looked up again. " And Mr. Drummond," she said, " what does he think ? Docs he think I have done wrong ? " "Well, he regrets what has happened, of course, althougli it has brought you to us. He thought you had resolved to be a Uttle niorc patient, and gentle, and obedient " The girl rose quickly, turning her head aside ; but all the same her friend had caught sight of the sudden tears tliat had sprung to those long black lashes. " Violet ! " " I can go back." " You shall not go back, Violet ; listen to reason " " Oh ! you don't know — you don't know the life I had to lead in that house," the girl cried passionately, with the tears running down her face ; " and you think that I am proud and ungrateful, and perhaps you are afraid to take me ? But I am not ungrateful to those I can love and respect — no — you will not find me that — and there is nothing I would not suffer for my real friends, as you may lind out some day. But 1 have had no friends — you know I have had no friends — but the friends in this house ; and what would I not do for tliem ? Only to be in the house with you I would be a kitchen drudge for you — indeed I would — I would work my eyes blind for you — there is no patience and obedience you w'ould not have. But I must respect and love the people whom I serve, and then I am ready to become their slave from morning till night " Mrs. Warrener strove to hush the wild, piteous words. CASTLE BANDBOX, N.B. 171 "You must not take so much to heart Avliat I said, Violet," she remonstrated, gently. " And you won't have to do all these things in order to please friends. Only be true to your own better nature, and you will be a constant delight to them." The girl took up her friend's hand and kissed it : then she left the room. Mrs. Warrener understood the mute promise of obedience. CHAPTER XYIII. CASTLE BANDBOX, N.B. The great white mists of the rain had lifted ; and all the world behind stood revealed — a strange, new, dream-like world, colourless, still, its various tints of grey shining with a suffused and mystic light. The grey sea was like glass ; the grey islands had but a faint glimmer of green along their shores : the grey mountains were pale and distant ; and in all this vague and phantom-like picture that had Ijeeu so suddenly disclosed there was but one sharp and definite object — a coasting-vessel lying motionless out there on the shining grey water ; its hull as black as jet ; its brown sails throwing perfect shadows on the mirror beneath. It was as yet early morning ; no one could say whether that luminous glow throughout the grey would turn to clear sunlight, or whether the slow, soft lingers of the rain-clouds would again pass over the world-picture, obliterating suc- cessively Liland, and mountain, and sea. Early as it was, a young lady had managed to write the following letter, which she was just putting into an envelope : — "Castlk TJandbox, tn the Wkstern IIi(;in.ANUS, YlUi Aurjud. "My dkar Papa, — You have known foi- many a year that I am the most dutiful of daugliters ; so here is the account I ])roniised you of our exj)lorations in this wild couutiy. It was on the evening of the 10th of August, in the present year, that we effected our disemliarkatiun, and were most hospitably received by the inhabitants of this 172 MADCAP VIOLET coast, two of whom willinut it is raining," responded ]\rr. Drummond. The wiry little man cast a glance aroimd, at the grey skies and the still grey sea. " Na, na," he said, " it'll no rain the day." " But, confound you, it /.s raining 1 " cried Drummond. " What do you call that ? " He pointed to the rain-drops formed by the drizzle that had fallen on the well-oiled barrels of his breech-loader. " Well, and if the gun iss to come to harm with that," said old Peter, testily, " you will better be for leafing it at home. It iss the gentlemen now they will tek sich care of their guns ass if the guns wass no for shooting at all. Yon should hef brought a gun that wass good for this country." " You will have to clean this gun very carefully, I can tell you, Peter ; and every night too." " I will not," said the old man, sturdily. " There iss no man will know more apout guns as me ; and cffery Saturday night, that will do ferry well. It wass Mr. Maclean of Cam-Sloe, he used to say to the gentlemen at the house, ' Kott, what would we do without ta Sunday effery week ; our guns would neffer be cleaned at ahl.' But the Sunday CASTLE BANDBOX, N.B. 175 it wass made for other thiugs as the cleaning of gnus ; and the Saturday night that will do better for me." " Then you won't clean my gun every night ? " " There iss no use of it." " Then I must do it myself, I suppose ? " " Ferry well." The two girls now came down stairs, fully equipped for the expedition ; and the oddly assorted party now set out. " Is that dog of yours any better behaved, Peter ? " " He's a gran' good dog, a ferry good dog," said the old Ilighlandman. " There iss just nothing that will pass the nose of him. Bit I will say this, that sometimes he is a something too eager in the rinnin' in — ay, just a wee thing too eager." " Yes," said ^Ir. Drimimond, " he has no fault at all — beyond a fancy for eating every bird you shoot." The old man was nettled ; but there was a hiunorous twinkle in his eyes all the same. " Ay, sir ; but even then he will not get too fat when he iss out with you, sir," "Confound you, Peter, you are more impertinent than ever." " Na, na, sir ; I will only speak the truth to you, ass you will speak it to me ; and there iss no harm in tliat." " I think, Mr. Peter," said a certain tall young lady, with great asperity and dignity ; " I think you might speak the truth a little more respectfully." The old keeper gave her a side glance as he trudged along. " Ay, I am no in the use of hcffiug leddies come out to the shooting." " Peter an